#oh look it's me attempting to write Urianger

[dainesanddaffodils]

FFXIV WRITE 2024 DAY 26: ZIP

Estinien helps Cimorene get ready for a club night | modern AU | Rated T | 784 words

(I’ve wanted to do a modern au Scions go clubbing fic for ages now lmao)

They’re crammed in Y’shotla’s flat - which hardly feels like the best meeting place. It’s not a particularly large studio and almost every flat surface is covered with books. Her thesis is on, in her words, opening strange portals in physics and the lengthy titles Estinien is able to read certainly reflect that.

They’re here, the astrophysicist in question had said, because it was closest to the club while also in the nicest area of town. If the twins’ mom was set on dropping them off ahead of their 21st birthday “dinner” the least they could do was make it look reputable.

It had been sound enough logic, but Estinien hadn’t considered that meeting there wouldn’t necessarily mean that everyone was already ready to go. Y’shtola is at her desk, using a ring light mirror while applying the dark makeup he had kind of just assumed she was born with. Tataru and Krile are using stacks of books on the floor as chairs whilst doing each other’s nails. Thancred and Urianger were both ready and are presently lounging on Y’shtola’s double bed with the kind of familiarity that came with all knowing each other far longer than Estinien has.

He’s leaning by the front door, trying to figure out when it would be okay to say he’s going to wait outside for Alphinaud and Alisaie, when the last of their present party calls from behind the bathroom door.

“Could, um, someone out there help me? I can’t get the zipper all the way.”

Estinien watches as no one reacts. Y’shtola continues applying mascara; Krile blows on damp nails while Tataru waves her hands back and forth to dry them; Urianger and Thancred have both found books to read.

Finally, Thancred raises his eyes to Estinien for just a second. Just long enough to flash a shit-eating grin.

“That’s you, mate,” he says, his voice a theatrical whisper. Estinien flips him off.

He’s well aware that his feelings for Cimorene are essentially an open secret within the group - in fact, he was probably the last person among them to actually realize how he felt. Still, in spite of their assurances, and unsubtle attempts at pushing them together, he’s never been able to read anything more than friendship in how she treats him. He’s not going to push his luck.

“Hello?” Her voice comes again. Thancred gives him a small shooing gesture.

“Fuck you,” he mouths to his friend, then - literally jumping over the two on the floor - he raises his voice. “Got it.”

Her back is to him when he opens the door, the partially zipped dress leaving most of her skin bare. The dress itself is unsurprisingly blue, but it’s dark sparkly and skintight in contrast to the frilly, lacy sundresses she usually dons. It stops at her upper thigh, hugging her body like it was made for her. Some part of him can understand why she needs help getting the zipper on it.

Most of him, however, can’t think at all.

“Oh,” she says, looking over her shoulder and meeting his eyes. It’s clear she hadn’t expected it to be him. He isn’t sure what to make of that.

After a too-long pause, he clears his throat. “Did you need-?”

“Oh, yes- yes, thank you.” Cimorene turns around again, straightening and holding herself perfectly still.

Grateful that she can’t see his face, Estinien swallows and carefully rests one hand on the small of her back to steady her while he tugs the zipper upwards. He thinks he hears her breath catch, but whether that’s in response to his touch or just to the feeling of the tight dress tightening further he doesn’t know and doesn’t dare wonder.

He drops his hands as soon as he’s finished, stepping back. “There,” he says unnecessarily.

“Thank you,” she says again. Then she turns around fully. “So, what do you think?”

She’s already done her hair and makeup - glitter adorns her cheeks and the braid that falls over one shoulder. The dress is as dangerous from the front as it had been from the back; the neckline is low and the bodice is boned to look like a corset, or lingerie.

He thinks she is insanely fucking hot.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to move in that?” He says instead.

Cimorene blinks, then shakes her head with a small, almost bitter, smile. “I think I’ll be okay,” she says softly. Then she’s moving past him into the rest of the flat, raising her voice to ask Y’shtola about her shoes.

Estinien, alone in the tiny bathroom for a moment, closes his eyes with a tired sigh. This is going to be a long fucking night.

[anneapocalypse]

Writing Wrap-up and 2024 Goals

It's a weird year to be doing a wrap-up, because I did not post a whole lot this year and I'm not sure I even set any goals last January thanks to having covid and being sick and exhausted for weeks, which still kind of feels like it threw off my whole year even though that sounds dramatic. Whatever. I've moped enough about it being a bad year for writing; now, I want to look forward.

2023 Wrap-Up

In case you'd like to read the one fic I did post this year, it's "Before You Go", a Loghain/Maric fic for Dragon Age (3022 words, rated E), which I am still quite happy with! And though it's not writing, I also made a podfic of RosellaWrites' gorgeous fic "let them not make me a stone (and let them not spill me)" (and if you're not interested in podfic you should still go read Rosella's fic, seriously, it's great).

While November 2022 was the last time I made substantial progress on A Hero Sleeps in Gwaren (my Briala/F!Tabris longfic for Dragon Age), I did make a few attempts to chip away at the draft this year. I didn't keep any records of what progress I made, but lucky for me Scrivener has a writing history feature that can at least give me a ballpark, and... it says I added 17,326 words to the draft this year (all in the first half of the year), which, not gonna lie, seems unreal to me. The first half of this year is mud in my head, so the fact that I did in fact get some writing done is really encouraging.

Over the summer, FFXIV started to really consume me as I had finished ARR by that point and my investment in the story was growing, and I also started taking a more active leadership role in my tiny free company, and so for the back half of the year I've mostly been writing little snippets about my Warrior of Light Ariane and her adventures and relationships, some of which may become part of actual fics later. This totals out to about 19,500 words at the moment.

So I only posted about 3000 words, but in total I wrote almost 40K this year. Is that a fantastic year, no... but honestly, it's a lot better than what my brain has been telling me I've accomplished this year, which is nothing. :P So I'm glad that I sat down to actually find the numbers!

Onward and upward.

So what's next?

2024 Goals

Fandom:

Finish one longfic.

Write and post a one-shot.

Do one exchange.

Original:

Outline an original novel.

Write a poem.

Send out one piece.

Tentatively my immediate plans are to get started outlining and then writing my Ariane/Haurchefant fic. I'm on the fence about February. On the one hand, it would be great to come back to my Briala/F!Tabris longfic for Femslash February, but on the other hand there's a high probability I'm going to be playing Endwalker by that point and I have no hope of keeping my head in Dragon Age during that time, so it's probably best not to commit to it. Dragon Age fic might be best saved for after I've caught up on MSQ when there are (hopefully) a few months still left to wait for Dawntrail and I can take a little break to let it marinate while I work on something else. My enthusiasm for the Briala/Tabris fic has not waned despite the long hiatus, and just yesterday I was reading bits of the draft and getting excited again, so I do hope to finish that this year and get to share it with you.

The alternate candidate for February is either keep working on the Haurchefant fic or in the case of a miracle in which I actually finish it this month (hah!), move forward with the next one I have planned, an Urianger/Moenbryda. That's unlikely but we'll see. I know I still have things to learn about Urianger in Endwalker, which I'm very excited for.

As for what exchange(s) I might do this year, I'm not sure yet! I haven't seen any announcements yet that Chocolate Box is running this year. Black Emporium and FemslashEx are both strong candidates for me. We'll see where I am when those roll around, or maybe something else will catch my eye!

Edited to add: Oh, yeah, also at some point we're supposed to get that final season of Red vs. Blue. I have a few outstanding projects in RvB but the main one that really matters to me is Radio Silence, my Carolina lost years fic. I'd love to use the series' send-off as a kick in the pants to finally finish that one, whenever that happens. We'll see!

Finally, I am making a conscious effort to reclaim my writing time, which traditionally has been the morning between 9 and noon because that's when my mind is the sharpest, but over the past I basically let that slip entirely and be taken over by either housework or gaming, just writing on the fly when something came to me. I'm not morning gaming anymore unless it's for a good reason (timed event I need to catch, etc, which is rare, and finishing yesterday's roulettes is not a good enough reason because the queues are slower in the morning and it just ends up eating more time than it needs to, they happen every day, it's fine).

On to 2024. Looking forward to it.

[driftward]

FFXIV Write 2021 Masterpost

Better late than never. 2021 was the first year I participated in FFXIV Write. A lot of these stories are non-canonical, as I use FFXIV Write events as a chance to feel things out and try to see whether or not some early thoughts of mine will gel and/or stick. They still have a special place in my heart though and I am rather fond of all of them.

Also this is where it all began.

Foster: An early attempt to make an entry point for Nyx. Didn't stick, but is sort~of moving in the right direction.

Aberrant: More Nyx hours. I feel better about this one, and will probably keep it as part of their canon. Maybe in November? But I digress.

Scale: A Dragonsong war haiku

Baleful: A poem about primals

An extra credit day (unused)

Avatar: One of the first things I ever wrote for Zoissette; her speech patterns would change as I refined her, her behaviour and personality only shifted slightly. Also, arguably the beginning of the end for me.

Speculate: And Klynt's (who belongs to @saesama) first appearance. This is a dumb conversation (affectionate).

Adroit: A story in which we take a brief look into a day in the life of the true hero of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

Friable: Urianger knows how fragile all possible futures are.

Heady: Nyx in their element, before they have to fulfill their purpose.

Preaching to the choir: Zoissette deals with the inquisition.

An extra credit day (unused)

Oneirophrenia: An Echo awakening; written for Nyx, but I eventually decided it was non-canonical for them. I still really like what I did here, and may find a way to repurpose it one of these days.

Commend: A short bit between Tataru and Zoissette, cleaning up after a banquet.

Thunderous: Nyx defends their scientists. I swear I keep coming back to this in my unfinished works, refining it, wanting to leave it alone but I can't. This is the first original form though. How it'll eventually wind up, I do not yet know.

Crane: A short bit between Zoissette and Klynt. Despite its shortness, I feel it really helps establish the tenor of their relationship.

Destruct: The arc of the life of Fordola rem Lupis.

Devil's Advocate: I will finish this one day. Zoissette sure is having a day in Ishgard.

An extra credit day (unused)

Petrichor: The first day of the rest of Nyx's life. This one I know I intend to rewrite.

Feckless: Zoissette flirts with danger. I did not know it at the time, but this is where the keel was laid.

Fluster: I feel like we settled on this being non-canon? But this is a funny story we made up to justify Klynt and Zoissette having an in-game wedding (@saesama wanted the two-seater chocobo)

Soul: A glance at Zoissette's particular Echo quirk. A look into all her possible pasts.

Illustrious: Zoissette absolutely hates being the center of attention, and Klynt is not at all helpful about that.

Silver Lining: More possible Nyx backstory, but tangled and mixed up. The scientist names are wrong here.

An extra credit day (unused)

Benthos: Nyx explored the underwater areas around Doma, and delights in what they find. Oh, and maybe delayed an attempted rebellion. This is also where they first pick up the moniker that would eventually become their adopted last name.

Bow: Stephanivien enlists Zoissette to the machinest cause. Unfortunately, I myself never quite took to the job.

Debonair: The Thancred Five Girlfriend Trainwreck Pileup

Abstracted: What is Zoissette, anyroad?

Side Abstraction: I used Nyx's POV to build upon one of @saesama's FFXIV write entries. Nyx wishes people were more predictable.

[makesometime]

51 (or 49) for G'raha tia? 👀

I hope there's enough G'raha in this for you, anon - thank you for the prompt, I had so much fun writing it!

--

She feels the weight of eyes on her as she wades out of the ocean and onto Tuliyollal's beach, finished with her attempts to drown Thancred in the shallows after getting a face-full of salt water that's still stinging in her nose.

(She still won though. No matter what he might be busy telling Urianger.)

The weight is so familiar that she knows it can't be anyone but her love, and she spots him almost instantly, watching her from one of the loungers in the shade. She walks towards him (and if she puts a swing in her step, she doesn't think she can be blamed), perching on the side of the lounger when she gets there and enjoying his open appreciation of her.

“Hello, love.” She grins, squeezing his knee. “Care to join me?”

“Oh!” He startles, eyes tracking back up to her face. “I don't... I mean that is to say...”

Luna waits quietly as he trails off, looking a little stricken as he tries to find the right words.

“Oh, this is so embarrassing!” He breathes all in a rush. He grabs her hand and squeezes it tight, ears flat against his head as he peers at her. “I don't know how to swim.”

She lets out a quiet little sound, shuffling closer and pulling his hand to her chest. “Oh darling. How didn't I know this about you?”

He shrugs a little helplessly. “There hasn't exactly been a lot of opportunity for leisure, lately.”

Luna smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss and then getting to her feet without dropping his hand. “Come, Raha. There's no time like the present to learn.”

He looks apprehensive right up until they reach the water, fingers knitting with hers and squeezing tight enough to give himself away. But he follows her back into the shallows with his chin lifted and his eyes sparkling with pleasure as they avoid the corals and sink a little deeper into the warm water.

“Are you with me?” She asks, watching his confidence grow enough to tip his head back into the water and grinning at the bright flow of his hair.

G'raha nods, flailing only a little when he straightens and floats over to embrace her. “A good start, at least.” He glances over her shoulder and then back at her, barely suppressing a smile. “I feel I should warn you, there is a hyur approaching at great speed.”

Luna gives him a wicked grin. “I love you so much.”

He doesn't have time to reply before she zips away, tugging him with her so that Thancred goes barrelling into clear air.

“I thought you above cheating!” He accuses, hair flopping in his face in a way that makes Luna splutter a bit. “Luna, obviously not, but G'raha Tia! I expected better.”

“And I thought you above being a sore loser.” She says, watching as G'raha guides himself away and back into the shallowest part of the water, safely out of the way. She holds her arms out, cocking her hip. “Want to try again?”

Thancred grins. “Oh, you're on.”

[cattaliatayuun]

Alright, NOW I've done today's prompt >:]

FFXIV Write Day 12: Quarry

No warnings, just my WoL and a bit of Alisaie this time, playing around with some lore :3

CLANG

The sound of pickaxe hitting stone was never fun to listen to. No matter the reward, Cattalia always found it grating at some point or another-- whether than be the instant she began, or a short while in-- the shrill impact grated on her ears like few other sounds could.

CLANG

So, in an attempt to avoid heavily shortened mining trips, she opted for a simple pair of earplugs to ease her mind. It muffled the sound enough to keep her sane, while not completely blocking out everything going on around her.

[clang]

Unfortunately, they did have the side effect of... doing what it said on the tin. The sounds around her were dulled to a similarly soft level, so in her efforts to stay conscious of any one or thing approaching, she could get a bit jumpy.

[clang]

Today, however, had been blissfully uneventful, which was heartening to say the least. Almost all of her last gathering outings had been interrupted by something or other, so she'd been attempting to craft this one set of hanging planters for nearly a week now. She had to finish it-

["-attalia?"]

The once again interrupted miner flinched, hard, and nearly dropped her pickaxe over her head. It slipped a bit as her limbs went rigid, and she scrambled to grab a better hold of it, before spinning around to see who had so kindly come all the way into the desert to bother her.

["Oh- sorry! I thought I'd made enough noise on my way over, considering the sand worm I just took care of, but I forgot about your..."] Alisaie gestured in the general direction of the startled miqo'te infront of her, presumably referring to the earplugs. Cattalia let out a tense breath, shaking off the adrenaline shot with an amused scoff and stowing her pickaxe in its holster her back.

"You're not the first, nor will you be the last. I think I'll manage." She dismisses the concern with a small smile, pulling out her earplugs as she speaks, before crossing her arms with an expectant raise of her brows. "So, what brings you all the way out here? Another urgent meeting need attending?" Her question was lighthearted, but she was absolutely preparing to swallow her frustration to go do "more important scion stuff" agan. Much to Cattalia's surprise, Alisaie shook her head, the mischeviously knowing smile on her face implying she saw right through the Warrior of Light's coverup.

"Wouldn't dream of it-- I doubt Tataru will send anyone for that job but Dev now. Not that I would mind, but I'm not looking to test my reflexes right now. I'm sure you can understand." She assured, a smirk tugging at the corner of her innocent smile.

"I understand that I'm never living that down, that's much is clear..." Cattalia muttered, forever haunted by the time she accidentally threw an unwanted ore at an unannounced visitor behind her. When the memory passed, however, she realized Alisaie wasn't actually here for something work related. Curiosity piqued, she was about to say more when she was beaten to the punch.

"So, I was actually hoping you could get me something. Urianger says it's rarely found for sale, and Dev says he's gotten some, but that you're more familiar with it, hence it seemed a safe bet to come pester you. Think you could get me some aethersand?" Preamble finished, Alisaie finally got to her point, asking her question despite her tone sounding confident she knew the answer. She was perfectly right to be confident thought, and Cattalia couldn't help but laugh at how well Alisaie knew her.

"Finally someone's asking me the right questions."

---

Phew! This is wayyy more fun than J expected it to be, but my head is very empty now lmao. Alright time to chill and go back to grinding DRG levels, thanks for reading! 💙

[mirroralchemist]

May 2022 Writing Update

Word Count: 514 Notes: Another month another update. I’m still handwriting a lot (I paid all this money for fountain pens and inks so I might as well use it) but I try to find time to type stuff up. This is one of my many Camp NaNo projects I’m slowly typing up. Mainly how a sleepless night begins the fruits of friendship between Ami and Urianger. Contains dubious attempts at Uri-speak

“What ails thee on this night?”

“Oh! It’s nothing important. No need to worry.”

“This I cannot,” he said, “It is my Lady Minfilia’s wishes thou comes to think of our order as close at thine own kin. What troubles burden thee, I wish to aid in dispelling them.”

I take a moment to think on his words. I was…unaccustomed to such warm receptions. Always to myself, knowing that strangers could be so kind was a new experience. Slowly, I nodded. Perhaps having an elder member listening might ease these thoughts.

“This is the first time I’ve been away from my family for such an extended period. I’m used to being able to go back home after running tasks, adventuring is a new experience. And for that new experience, I realized comes with much adjustment.”

I shook my head.

“Not that regret deciding to be one! Nor do I regret agreeing to aid the Scions. I pledged my blade to this cause and I want to see it through to the end. I never considered the other effects that my decision brings.”

“Thou art longing for the comforts of home.”

“A little,” I confessed, “It still feels too ‘new’. So I thought that reading would help me rest. Alas, the selection here is so robust, I have nary a clue what to choose.”

Urianger seemed to have stiffened at my words. I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. A silence fell over us, neither of us inclined to speak. The awkward moments ticked by before he stood by my side.

He is…really tall.

I knew that him being Elezen, their height was expected. Just the realization dawned upon me how tall he really is. He rubbed his chin in thought as he seemingly scanned the shelf. His focus honed in on the top shelf. He reached and pulled a tome, smiling as he presented the item to me.

“Given the late hour, dense tomes make for poor company. I proffer onto thee this collection of poems. A variety of subjects lay within these pages, yet concise in words. These readings may aid in they attempts at slumber.”

I opened my mouth to speak but found myself silent. In just the short time he already formed a suggestion. I was in awe of his readied knowledge. I couldn’t even form an answer.

“M-my apologies if I was too forward. Scarcely do I find another whom share mine affinity for fine literature.”

I shook my head again, giving the man a small smile. I took the tome into my own hands. Our fingers had brushed against each other before I held the item close to my chest.

“You were not being too forward at all,” I assured him, “I appreciate it in fact. Thank you for the suggestion Urianger.”

He gave a small flourish of a bow. His smile even more infectious.

“’Tis no trouble. If thou art ever in need of mine guidance, pray do not hesitate to call upon me. My services, be they leisure or duty, are thine to wield.”

[crystalbahamut]

pounds of flesh

FFXIV Write Day 3: Scale

Summary: The Exarch is familiar with tactics used to dodge those most dangerous of creatures (Healers) and offers you his assistance.

Author’s note: Am currently ignoring the fact that there’s no faucet in the Pendant room (that I could find) because that seems inconvenient for such an otherwise nice kitchenette. The prompt started me off with the idea of scaling a staircase feeling on par with scaling a mountain but it sort of veered off from there. I really loved this prompt though; there are so many ways to take it.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified WoL, non-healing WoL (kind of), 2nd person pov, WoL/Exarch, overworking oneself on purpose

Words: 1,876

 ---

You might have gotten a little bit…carried away today. Triffids, hoptraps, wargs, and more; you had carried out a number of quests to reduce the threats posed to those traveling the roads of Lakeland, and that wasn’t even counting the morning spent in Rak’tika helping out the Night’s Blessed with some of their chores. You don’t mind– it’s nice to be helpful, good, necessary even– but now that everything aches and some of the cuts have opened up again you wonder if maybe you took it a little far. All you wanted to do was make sure you slept well tonight, but even taking the intercity aetheryte was too much to ask of your energy stores. You have scaled cliffs and mountains, but right now the thought of scaling the steps to your room is making you want to find a place the guards don’t patrol and just lay on the ground. It’s a good thing the manager is on break right now, or you’d have to field some uncomfortable questions about why you’re just standing around, staring.

“There you are.”

You flinch. Mayhap the manager would have been the lesser of two well-intentioned evils, considering the Exarch sounds…not exactly smug, but knowing. You stand taller and clear your throat. “Evening Exarch,” you say. “Did you need something?”

“Not precisely, though I am wont to worry when you stay out so late,” he says and steps towards you.

That…you almost turn around for that. He worries? You shake your head; of course he worries, you are (supposedly) the one hope for the world’s survival. ‘Tis nothing more than prudence. “Nothing to worry about; I’m quite fine.”

“Oh?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he comes around your side, and you quickly look away. “Should I be flattered that you seem to be emulating me?”

You scowl and pull the head covering down farther. How in the world does he see anything like this? “You didn’t invent hooded robes, Exarch.”

“No, I did not,” he chuckles. “However I have not seen you wearing one, until now.”

“Mayhap I simply felt like it.”

“Mayhap you did,” he says. “Or mayhap you are trying to hide a head wound incurred when a lake viper used its tail to swat you into a tree.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “You know, nobody likes a know it all,” you grumble and try to sink into your shoulders. One of these days you are going to break that damn magic mirror of his.

“My dear warrior,” he sighs as though indulging you in a whim. “What would it take for you to accompany me to Spagyrics?”

You turn to give him a look of incredulity and then realize that probably isn’t very effective. However he sighs and says, “I see.”

“Do you?” you ask. “I can’t see anything like this; I don’t know how you do it.”

He doesn’t take the bait, unfortunately. “Would you allow me to see to your wounds then?”

“I can heal myself.”

“If you could, you already would have.” He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, though right on a sore spot that twinges, and you try not to wince. “I would just like some assurance you are well enough. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can fetch one of the Scio-”

“You,” you say immediately and take his arm. You pull back the hood to see with your good eye and find his mouth partly opened in surprise. “I trust you.” Also, if Alisaie or Y’shtola see you in this state, they will put you out of their misery. But you meant what you said. You do trust him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, as though he’s honored, and the wondrous tone of his voice is enough to give you the energy to make it up the stairs and to your room.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone manage to limp so successfully on both legs before,” the Exarch says and goes to the cupboard where the first aid kit lives.

“It’s not that bad– though I’m going to warn you that I’m a bit dirty so it probably looks worse than it is,” you say and pull off the robe. Gently, as everywhere it touches seems to throb with new pain, or maybe the fatigue is getting to you. While he’s turned around you quickly (ow) change into some shorts and a tank top and sit on the bench by the door.

When he turns around the Exarch actually stops in his tracks. “Wicked white,” he says and sighs. “If Chessamile saw you like this…”

“The Warrior of Darkness would be ended by the wrath of a bypassed healer.” You put a finger to your lips. “But surely now my trusty accomplice will help me.”

He smiles again, though he looks like he’s trying to wrangle it back into a disapproving frown. “Extortion now, is it?” he asks as he starts filling a bowl with water.

“I think your offer belied the feelings of one used to dodging chirurgeons,” you say and give yourself a quick check to make sure anything that needs treating is visible. Thankfully your torso just endured some bruising; it’s your limbs that took the brunt of everything. And your head, you’re reminded as you try to gingerly scrape off some of the dried blood and accidentally reopen the wound, making fresh blood course back down over your eye. “Oops.”

“Perhaps I have, but even my own injuries pale in comparison. I can see why any healer would have their hands full with you,” the Exarch says as he comes over to take your hand, shove some cloth in it, and force you press it hard against the cut. “Pray just hold that there for now.”

Now that you’re able to relax and do nothing, exhaustion courses through your bones and you do as he bids if only because anything else is far too much effort. You struggle to stay awake as he pulls over a chair, the medical kit, and the bowl of water, and blink yourself back to consciousness when he sits down.

“Are there any sprains?” he asks as he looks over the injuries.

“My right ankle feels a bit funny, and I think I pulled something in my left thigh, but mostly I’m just scraped up,” you say. He dabs some of the scratches with the clean water and it’s uncomfortable but not unbearable. You almost start to fall asleep with his gentle ministrations.

But when he presses a new, slightly damp cloth to those scrapes, the stinging wakes you right up. “Thal’s balls!” you hiss and resist the urge to rip his hands away. On the plus side, your head has stopped bleeding again; now it only throbs as you set the bloodied cloth aside and try to quell the nausea caused by pain.

“I apologize,” he murmurs and dabs it more gently. It’s not a good feeling but you can bear it a little easier now that you know it’s coming. He clears his throat. “What were you working on so frenetically today?”

“Huh?” You think about the question. “Oh– nothing much really; I was just taking a few jobs here and there.”

“Are you in need of gil?” he asks and lifts his head. Presumably to look at you. “Surely some of these jobs could have waited another day?”

You take the washcloth and wring it out before you start cleaning your other leg, and then your arms. It will help him get through this easier. And it also makes it so you don’t have to look at him now. “They could have. But I wanted them done.”

“Because you plan to take the day for yourself tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” you say. “Perhaps this is how I want to spend my days.”

“Working yourself to the bone when you already do so much?” He finishes wrapping your ankle and grabs your hand. He says your name gently, without reproach. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” You shut your eyes. “Sometimes…I just want to sleep. That’s all.”

“I see,” he says and doesn’t press for more. If this were Alphinaud you wouldn’t be able to escape without some awkward attempt at platitudes on his end, or Urianger, who would try to make suggestions while also nearly putting you to sleep with one of his lectures, but the Exarch keeps tending to you with hands that are gentler than they have any right to be.

When he starts treating the cut on your head it’s a good excuse to close your eyes, but even without some supposed excuse you don’t think you would do any differently. He’s so…gentle. Healers, even the kindest ones, are all business– as they should be, as they’re always the ones that have to make sure everyone is fighting fit for the next catastrophe. But the Exarch touches you so tenderly, like he wants to put you back together piece by piece, with soothing motions and soft brushes of skin, and crystal that’s warmer than it looks, and it’s all you can do to keep from falling apart in his capable hands.

“One moment, my warrior,” he murmurs and you realize you’re halfway to sleep by the fact that you can’t seem to open your eyes when he leaves, but it doesn’t bother you overmuch. When he comes back and nudges you to stand, you manage to do so, but you still don’t open your eyes even as you shuffle over to the bed with his help. You sit on sheets– the cover has been pulled back already, you realize with delayed thoughts as the Exarch tucks you in. You’ll be mortified in the morning, but for now…

“I pray sweet dreams find you tonight, my warrior.”

You think you imagine the gentle kiss placed upon your brow, but in case this isn’t some lovely dream and he is still around to hear it, you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The next morning finds you sore and a little stiff, but you can recognize that you’re better off than you would have been otherwise.

You also find a collection of medicinal-looking mixtures all lined up in bottles in a neat little row on the table. And, when you go over to investigate, a note from the Exarch.

 My dear warrior,

Though it is not a happy thought, there are many in Norvrandt who share your desire for uninterrupted sleep, as well as your difficulties attaining it. These elixirs each have their own cards describing ingredients and dosage; if you find one to your liking, it would be a simple matter of requesting more, and I should be delighted to do so.

Also, if you ever find the climb to your room to be too arduous, perhaps the smaller staircase leading to the tower itself would be less of a strain. Once inside, there are easier ways to get around that I would be happy to show you.

With fondest wishes,

The Crystal Exarch

 You smile and fold the letter back up. An easier way to the Ocular, hm? You’d like to see that. Perhaps now is a good time to stretch your legs and make the climb.

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Fifteen: “That lucky charm you gave me hasn’t  been so lucky.”

Day Fourteen -- Masterpost -- Day Sixteen

“Ah! One of my <adorable twin saplings!>” Feo Ul cried as Lara froze in the doorway. She’d been expecting Roger in the apartment. Maybe a brooding Ardbert. That she was seeing the pixie that she had bonded with at the start of her journey wasn’t unpleasant just...awkward. 

Luckily she could recover easily enough. With a bright smile, she called out, “Hey, Feo Ul!” Lara looked around. “Is there, uh, anything bad about to happen? King related business that you need help with? I can go get Roger if that’s the case…”

With a boisterous laugh that sent them into a flying loop-de-loop in the air, the red pixie hovered close enough to squish Lara’s cheeks. “Nay, my precious gold-and-fire hair sapling. I’ve already seen my other <adorable twin sapling> and given my latest charm to him. Now I bestow upon you this token of luck!” Feo Ul let go of her long enough to tangle up something in Lara’s hair. Setting themself back far enough to admire their work, the King of Pixies (in their more diminutive piece that mostly interacted with their saplings) declared, “There! A proper charm now for my dearest sapling!”

Lara really hoped that she was allowed to take it out of her hair. “You’re most kind, Feo Ul,” And, since she was seriously trying to get a grasp of the language that the pixies used, she added, “<Adore beauty my branch>.” She winced at the “translation” that her Echo so helpfully provided. It was the most ironic gift ever. She could understand any language and be understood if she needed to be, but actually attempting to learn a language when someone says a word and her head says another…

No wonder Roger declined language learning with Urianger. 

Feo Ul laughed even harder than before. “‘Tis nearly right! A bit more practice and you will be calling for me every moment that you have the need. Be seeing you!” And with that, they turned into a ball of light and flitted out the window. She waited until all of the sparkles in the air had well and truly faded before dislodging whatever it was that the pixie had tied into her hair. 

What she found was a silver bell. There was nothing tying it anywhere, save for the gold strands that were left over from Feo Ul’s work. There also wasn’t anything inside the bell to make it ring. It was odd...but in a cute way. 

“A charm from the pixie, eh?” Ardbert leaned into view, startling Lara. He ignored her reaction to examine the bell closer. “Back in my day it was said that gifts from the Fae could lead to great fortune…” His brown eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Or great despair. All things considered, I say you leave the bell here before you go out again. And whatever it is that they gave to Roger.”

Lara snorted. “Feo Ul wouldn’t give me something that would harm me.” She headed to the platform that contained both hers and Roger’s beds and made a beeline for where her less important things were being stored. “I’m one of her precious twin saplings, like you heard.” With a bit of searching, she turned up a white ribbon that she quickly used to tie the soundless bell to her wrist. “Plus isn’t it also bad luck to refuse a gift of the Fae?” It was a half remembered lesson from when Urianger had spent a couple of days trying to describe all of the intricate rules that the various races of Il Mheg lived by. When it was clear that the two of them couldn’t memorize everything immediately, he’d sighed and gave a few more concise rules of thumb for dealing with the Fae. Concise for his standards, at least.

“Aye, but that don’t mean their gift’s gonna be any good to you either.”

“It’s a luck charm! What’s the worst that could happen?”

-------

Urianger started when he beheld the severely disheveled sight of the Warriors of Darkness. “Oh my. It seemeth thou both hath run into troubles aplenty.”

“You have no idea.” Roger didn’t even bother to clear a spot of books. He marched to a spot on the wall that was the least occupied and slid down it with a prolonged groan.

Lara moved to join him, but hissed in pain. Without another word, Urianger cast a couple of healing spells on the both of them. In moments, the Warriors of Darkness both breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Didst thou fight a horde of monsters?” 

“I wish it had just been monsters.” Lara rolled her shoulders as the soreness faded. “We’ve just had trouble after trouble since yesterday.”

Roger counted the ways on his fingers. “Everything keeps breaking, I’ve been tripping over myself way more than I used to, we pissed off this amaro that used to be real friendly and it dropped us in a lake.”

Urianger froze. “Thou canst mean--”

“Yeah, we almost got dragged back to Dohn Mheg. Thank every single god that we have that water breathing blessing…” She once again moved to sit next to her best friend when her foot collided against a footstool. A crack resounded around the library and Lara’s face contorted with pain again. “Oww…” Her voice came out as a whimper. 

He moved to tend to what sounded like a broken toe (though gods knew how Lara was able to do so when she was still wearing boots). As he used his own aether to heal her again, a card he drew from his star globe brought his attention to the ribbon on her wrist. On it was a silver bell with no clapper. Urianger’s eyes narrowed at it. “When did thou receiveth this bell, young Lara?”

She blinked a couple of times as the magic quickly got to work. “Uh...yesterday, actually. Feo Ul called it a luck charm.”

That was explanation enough. “Didst thou both not listen to mine lecture when I mentioned gifts of the Fae?”

“Er…” Roger scratched at his face and looked away. 

“Uh…” Lara looked upwards before snapping her fingers. “They can cause great fortune!”

“Or quite the opposite.” He indicated the bell. “What were the exact words of thine pixie?”

“Feo Ul...said it was a luck charm,” Lara repeated. 

“Didst they mention good or ill luck whatsoever?”

She stared at him, then her eyes widened with realization as she looked down at the bell. “They didn’t.”

Roger groaned even louder than before. “Why do the Fae do this stuff…”

“‘Tis merely their nature as mischievous creatures, young Roger. Feo Ul, while they hast many duties as King of the Pixies, will still desireth to delight in seeing even their sune yaks contend with the gifts they hast given unto them.” He nodded as the magic faded and Lara was once again healed. “Nevertheless, ‘tis most unfortunate that their gifts hath caused thee such ill luck. ‘Twoud be best to leave thine gifts in thine quarters until such time that Feo Ul forgets they hath given their saplings such charms.”

“And we can’t just...say no to future gifts?” Roger pondered even as he took out the pendant that the pixie had given to him. 

“I’m afraid the consequences of refusing would be far worse than those of accepting their gifts.”

“Well crud.” Lara muttered.

While the two were quietly contemplating their fate, Urianger offered, “Perhaps ‘twould be wise for me to accompany you both back to the Crystarium. Thine healing abilities are quite remarkable, young Lara, however having a second in reserve may be what your ill luck needs to turn back to the good.”

With the voice of someone who hadn’t really heard what was spoken to them, she responded with, “Sounds good.” Then her focus landed on him with startling strength. “Hey can I ask you a question?”

“Whatever it is you wish to know, I will endeavor to answer.” 

“Do you know what cúpla sune yaks means?” Lara’s mouth didn’t move in the correct way to pronounce the words, but Urianger heard the phrase pronounced the way it should be said. He forced the scholar part of his mind to back down from the opportunity to marvel at yet another side effect of one possessing the Echo to go over the phrase she said. 

It couldn’t be...could it?

“Aye,” He answered neutrally. Roger sat up from his spot against the wall, watching the both of them. It didn’t take long for her to start rambling about what she was really asking.

“Okay so…” She tugged at a strand of her hair and twined it around a finger. “Feo Ul always calls us that. And the Echo makes it sound like she’s calling us ‘adorable twin saplings.’ I just want to know if there’s anything significant about it.”

“We’ve been over this, Lara, they just mean that we’re their two saplings!” Roger called out. “The Echo made it sound like that so that we’d understand what they meant better!”

“But we don’t know if that’s true!” She turned her deep blue eyes up to meet his own. “Well?”

Urianger granted her a moment’s pause while he thought of what to say. “...If it beith thine conclusion that the words of Feo Ul meaneth what you say, then that is so. As I do not possesseth the Echo, I can only interpret language by having been taught it. Twin can be used to mean two in many languages.”

“See! I told you!”

Lara continued to stare at him for a moment before looking away again when she failed to find what it was she was looking for. “Okay. Guess I was just thinking too hard.” She sighed and rubbed at a temple. “Let’s get back to the Crystarium and soon.” Roger made another groan as he helped himself stand. 

“We’ll meet you outside when you’re ready.” He said to Urianger as the two left the library.

“I shall be but a moment.”

As soon as the Warriors of Darkness had well and truly exited, he gave a deep frown. 

If Feo Ul had meant to call Roger and Lara their two adorable saplings, they would have called them “a dó sune yaks” in the language of the Pixies. They specifically used the phrase “cúpla sune yaks.” Twin adorable saplings. 

There was only one possible conclusion to be drawn from that. Pixies were the most well known among the Fae folk to use their exact words in order to not lie.

Among other sudden realizations and connections, Urianger couldn’t help but marvel at how this also explained why the pixies in particular all adored the Warriors of Darkness so. The ancient texts described the race as being quite drawn towards twins.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2020 #21: Foibles

(A/N: Another mostly npc focused piece, and again its focused on Lyse and her own mourning. :’D Miqo!Fufu is in the background but I decided not to slip her in here. Prompt focus was mainly based off of Yda, or more Lyse’s take on her, and a presumed characterisation for her based on how Lyse acted. Quirky and fun, I’d like to think.

Set during the trip to Kugane in Stormblood, pre-Sirensong Sea, with mentions of departed characters.

Word count: 1469

@ffxiv-writers)

“Can I ask you something?” Lyse perked up at the question, turning away from watching the sea horizon to look at Alisaie beside her. The girl wore an uneasy frown, and added quickly, “I’ll admit it’s probably not a comfortable question. I’d understand if you didn’t want to talk about it.” 

Curiosity piqued, Lyse tilted her hand and gave the girl a friendly nudge. “Well, you’ve caught my attention now. And it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do on this trip other than talk.” The few weeks onboard the Misery had been uneventful, and with little more to do other than plan ahead for when they reached Kugane’s port, the Scions had often turned to idle chatter between each other.

Sometimes professional, sometimes personal.

“In that case,” the elezen hummed, “what was Yda like? I remember grandfather talking a little bit about his students when I was younger, and he brought her up in passing. But bar Urianger being around the house a lot, I never got to know any of them well.” Lyse frowned, and didn’t answer immediately.

At the far end of the ship, a thin screech broke through the air -- an attempt from Fufu at trying to learn how to play the old flute she had found stored away in a storage room.

“Like I said, I’d understand if this wasn’t something you wanted to talk about,” Alisaie quickly said, sensing the heavy air growing between them, making ready to leave the woman alone, only for Lyse to place a hand on her shoulder and say, “No, it’s fine.” The hyur gave a small smile.

“Talking about her should be fine. It’s been long enough, and this is probably a better way to remember her than the awkward mockery I’ve been taking part in these past few years.” She sighed.

“Yda was…” Lyse started, trailing off as she leaned heavily against the ship railing, staring at the churning waters of the ship’s wake below, collecting her thoughts. Then a smile. “She was a good cook.”

“Not the first thing I would’ve thought of,” Alisaie, said, tilting her head. 

Lyse chuckled. “Bare with me here, it’s the first thing I thought of. But I remember very faintly when we still lived in Ala Mhigo. Father wasn’t always home, being so busy with fighting. But whenever he returned, he’d have some game with him, I can’t recall what now. But Yda always managed to make it taste amazing.”

“What about her fighting skills? From what I heard she was highly praised for that,” the other girl prompted. Lyse nodded, her eyes creasing at the thought.

“Oh she was brilliant at that. I remember her saying that when father finally beat back Theodoric and the Fist of Rhalgr was reinstated, she’d go off and train with them, and leave father to be the one staying at home looking after me.” A frown crossed her features, but she shook it off before Alisaie could think to question it.

“Of course that didn’t end up working out,” Lyse mumbled, sighing before she perked up and continued, “But I’d say getting to study at one of the finer institutions in the world and be considered an archon for her skill is a good second best. But she was always such a handful for her teachers in every other subject she had to take up alongside the physical training.”

She couldn't help but laugh, “So often I recall her just folding up her papers or doodling on them over actual studying. She never did take well to that side of academia, even with Papalymo there to help tutor her.”

“Ah, so they were already long acquainted.” Both girls jumped, spiraling round to see Alphinaud and Tataru approaching. The boy had the good sense to look sheepish at the hard stare of his sister, saying, “Apologies for the interruption, we wished to join you. There’s been no further updates from the Resistance.”

Tataru nodded. “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But you wouldn’t mind…”

“Not at all,” Lyse welcomed, giving the newcomers a warm smile despite the light sheen in her eyes. “We were just talking about Yda.”

“Oh, I never knew her,” tataru sighed, “But from all Papalymo told us, she was a lovely woman.”

The hyuran woman let out a huff, “I should’ve known he would tell people. But I can’t really be mad at him for it. I’m surprised I didn’t give myself up sooner with the shoddy performance.” She averted her eyes from her friends, looking to the sky.

“She always had this quirky thing about her. Saying silly stuff mostly. For all she struggled with books and essays and long lectures with lots of talking, she did get it eventually, but a lot of the scholars still treated her like a halfwit.” 

Alisaie scoffed, arms folded against her chest, “I can see that. Some people back home are too self absorbed, they would dismiss other people regardless of how much effort they put in.” If anyone saw the way she clenched at her own elbow, or the way her own brother’s eyes drifted to the sea behind them, no one mentioned it.

Another shrill flute note rang out in the air.

For her own part, Lyse just nudged the girl’s arm, then continued, “Well, when that happened, she would compensate by pretending to be dim and silly, like she didn’t understand. It amused her to make them have to explain things five times, if they were generous enough, until they got annoyed and left her. It would drive Papalymo bonkers as well, probably even more so when he realised what she was doing.”

The amused smirk she wore fell, as she added quietly, “The house was always so lively. The two of us, and Papalymo when he was tutoring, or Thancred when he came ‘round to study together.”

“Thancred? They studied together?” Tataru asked. 

Lyse nodded. “Well, they didn’t have any classes together, but they did have something of a kindred spirits feeling, I suppose. Two outsiders to the city, being treated as such by the citizens. Oh but I remember how they first met,” Lyse suddenly laughed.

“Yda had gotten into a spat with an older student while I was hanging around on campus. I can’t even say what it was about, it’d escalated so quickly. Whatever he said, she ended up picking him up and shoving him into a wall. Hardly anything too physical but it got at least two professors involved.

“I heard them talking about severe punishments and possibly expelling her, but right as she started panicking, Thancred just slides in out of nowhere and somehow managed to calm the situation down. The student she’d been fighting with wasn’t convinced much, but the professors  were placated at least.”

She snickered, “I’m telling you, the man’s silver tongue is wasted on the ladies. I could easily see him doing well with officials if he wanted to.”

“Then I’m sure Alphinaud’s pride is grateful for the lack of competition,” Alisaie smirked, prompting an offended, “I beg your pardon,” from her brother.

The hyuran smiled, ruffling both younger kids’ hairs and receiving protests from them both.

“I’ll admit though, Thancred was a big help during those days, but he got caught up in a lot of his own work most of the time. It was mostly just Yda, Papalymo and me.” Lyse bit her lip, then sighed, “I’ll always be grateful to him. To Papalymo. For helping me after she...y’know.” Heads dipped in a moment of silence.

“And for putting up with my ridiculous suggestion. For five years I lived a lie under the guise of trying to-- I don’t know. Continue her work? Or mostly just fool myself into saying she was still around. Saying it was a way to remember her when it was just me playing pretend.”

“Oh don’t do that to yourself, we all grieve in different ways,” Tataru exclaimed, patting the taller woman on the leg in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest method,Alphinaud said, “but who are we to judge. It provided you aid when you needed it most.” His words were probably meant to be encouraging, but Lyse looked away, turned back to the sea.

Alisaie gave her brother a harsh glare, then with a pat to the woman’s shoulder, said, “The important thing now is that you would honour her memory properly. Both of them even. And we’ll finish what she and your father started.”

Lyse sniffed, but she bit back the tears to smile at her friend and nodded. “You’re right. I want to be able to say I did this for them, and others like them. However long it takes now.”

A clear flute note sang into the waves.

[efrmellifer]

Acta Diurna

“Deep breath for me,” the midwife cooed. “Now hold it.”

Etien held her breath, biting her lip to keep air stilled in her lungs.

“Good,” came the soothing voice. “Excellent. And let the breath out.”

Now Etien exhaled, settling back against her pillows again. “Did it sound good?”

“It did! I heard multiple heartbeats, but they were so closely synchronized that I couldn’t count how many exactly. However, if you were having triplets or more, I think you’d be more overtly carrying at this point.”

“So twins?” Aymeric asked, finding his voice and looking up at the midwife from where he was sitting.

“That would be my best guess, though be ready for a surprise when the delivery day comes.”

Etien cleared her throat softly. “And am I still free to travel for some time?”

“For now,” the midwife replied, the way she dragged it out signaling that there was a caveat coming. “Though anything risky should be probably be cut out now, rather than any later.”

“So no Diadem,” Aymeric murmured, coming to Etien’s side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

Though her expression betrayed that she was put out, she just shrugged. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Speaking of eventualities…” The midwife looked between the two of them. “I’d say you have about a moon left before you’ll need to be on bed rest. Light bed rest, to begin with. Walking around the forums occasionally would be good for you, I think. But staying close to home and seated or lying down primarily is the goal. As you progress, we’ll see how things settle and if you’ll need to be under stricter rules, but you’re strong and you seem healthy. So I think you should be all right.”

Etien smiled, her nose crinkling a little bit with the gesture.

Aymeric watched tiredness starting to seep into Etien’s expression, and hurried to get things wrapped up. “Thank you very much, I’rixa,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound like he was trying to usher her out. “Is there anything else we need to keep in mind at the present moment?”

“You both need to get enough sleep. You look tired, ser. She may be undergoing the physical process, but you’re experiencing a lot of change, too. Moreover, you can’t take care of her if you’re exhausted.”

“True,” he conceded. “Wonderful, thank you again. I can show you out.”

“I’ll be back in another moon and a half,” she reminded them both, then followed Aymeric out the door and down the hall.

When he returned, he sighed, leaning against the door frame.

Etien was rubbing her temple.

“Have you a headache again?”

As she turned her head, she dropped her hand back to the covers on the bed. “No. I don’t, fortunately.” She shook her head. Then she sighed. “We need to tell the Scions.” It came out in the same tone as any other groan she’d offer up when she had to do something she didn’t want to.

“Ah. That we do. I must admit, I’m surprised they didn’t find out from the Alliance.”

Etien had gone back to rubbing her head in a vain attempt to self-soothe, but she stopped abruptly. “Gods, you don’t think they did, do you? It is odd that they haven’t asked after me—”

“I have never taken Merlwyb for a blabbermouth, nor Raubahn and the Sultana. Kan-E-Senna, I would imagine, has only told the leadership of the Adders, since you cannot do Serpent errands either.”

“I would never speak ill of the Alliance leaders, but that certainly is a lot of trust to place in them.”

Aymeric looked at Etien and remained silent for perhaps a beat too long as he thought. “Etien. The same as you wouldn’t speak against the Alliance, I won’t speak against the Scions. That being said, I do think that if they had caught even a whiff of what’s been going on, they would have marched right into the manor and been interrogating you as if you had returned from Garlemald.”

Etien coughed.

“Well. You know what I mean,” Aymeric corrected, looking away. “Fury help me, the midwife was right. I do need more sleep.”

With a silent grin, Etien patted the open side of the mattress next to her.

“I slept the day away last time I had a day off. And you were much more capable of taking care of yourself back then.”

“I’m still capable of taking care of myself!” She couldn’t help but sound just a touch indignant. Though if pressed, even she wouldn’t have been able to explain why. It wasn’t like she wanted to force herself into not relying on Aymeric, especially when he was offering himself to be relied upon.

“I—that was a poor choice of words, and not what I meant.” He admitted. “What I had been trying to say was, the last time I had a day off like this, where Lucia took over for me so I could be with you and do with the hours what I willed, I was entirely selfish and slept. But now, it would be better if I were to give you the attention you may require, and for that, I would need to stay awake.”

“All right, darling, but I am asking you to get into bed with me. You don’t need to do anything but lie down.”

“And how many times have I heard that?”

Etien clicked her tongue. “This, and I still invite you into bed.”

He settled under the covers when she lifted them for him, and curled himself around her immediately, head near her belly and arms around her hips.

“I find it strange how slow the change is, and yet one day, it will all be unmissable.”

“And it’s not even your body,” she replied. “It certainly is weird.” She blinked slowly, her drowsiness becoming apparent again. “What are we going to tell the Scions?”

“Perhaps the same words we gave Estinien.”

“Hardly seems fair to Estinien,” Etien mused, letting her arm settle around Aymeric’s shoulders. “We’ve taken him for a lover. He should have something so momentous to himself, don’t you think?”

“I do; you raise an excellent point.”Aymeric thought. “As of this moment, what do you want to say to them?”

“Well. Something to the tune of ‘While the road does go ever onward, and I know I cannot—and so I will not—refuse to walk it, I have taken a detour. I am to be a mother, and so I’ll need time, while the kits develop and after they’re born, to hang up the mantle of Warrior of Light. I can’t bear the weight of the star on my back and the weight of my children on my hips.’”

“Well said. How do you propose to tell them this, o will-worker of the star?”

She huffed. “Sounds too much like Minfilia. And I do not want to be compared to her. Though maybe that’s harsh.” She shook her head to clear it. “Regardless. A letter is all wrong. And using the linkpearl is laughable. Nothing for it. I’ll have to go to the Rising Stones and speak to them in person.”

“Dear-heart, please don’t go to Mor Dhona. Think of it—the gloom. The wildlife. Everyone and their brother seeking an adventurer. It’s too dangerous for you right now.”

“What else can I do?” she asked, sounding resigned but genuinely pleading for his guidance.

Aymeric sighed. “I’ll write a letter. In it, I will ask for one of them. They can choose whom to send.”

“Oh Aymeric, do you think that will go well?”

“How could it go poorly? They know and admire you.”

“If they send Alphinaud, he’ll lose his head, Alisaie might just get angry that I’m letting her win, Urianger will load me down with tomes about pregnancy and cross-bred infants, Y’shtola will laugh me all the way out to Falcon’s Nest, and Thancred will be Thancred.”

“What about Tataru?”

“Oh. She’d tut and pat my hand and start sending food over. Maybe shed a tear about how it was only yesterday she made my bridal gown and now she’ll need to make baby clothing.”

“Do you want me send for Tataru specifically?”

Etien was silent for a long time. “No, but I will write her a personal letter about all this.”

When they received word that one of the Scions was on their way, they’d held their breath waiting.

But when the Scion envoy arrived on the Borel doorstep, Etien realized they had forgotten one important variable.

G’raha Tia.

_

G’raha couldn’t deny that he was a little hesitant as he followed the servant down the hall to the sitting room. He’d seen Etien seated here once or twice when he’d peeked in on the Source before (and once, caught her in a nap), but it was odd to now be sitting there with her.

Fighting alongside his hero when she needed his help was one thing. Resting himself in a chair in her sitting room was a whole different matter. It was like he was seated on a live wire, not quite comfortable, even in a plush, well-built chair.

But the room wasn’t really the issue—it could have been part of any Ishgardian noble’s house. It was the still shockingly young woman seated within it opposite that was unsettling him slightly.

He had never noticed how young Etien still looked. But then, it made sense, didn’t it? She was only 25 now, her 26th nameday coming up in the next moon of Halone. Just after Starlight and Heavensturn.

He knew all this by rote, of course. The Tale of Etien: Left home at 19, adventured in the three city-states for nearly three years, ended the Dragonsong War in Ishgard, liberated Ala Mhigo and Doma, and then… well,  he knew all about what came after that. He’d lived through the last year with her.

He hadn’t gotten to properly celebrate her nameday when he would have had the chance, while she was on the First. Because she hadn’t been. She’d slipped home for Starlight, and then stayed. A little hiccup in the time running parallel had her only gone for a week on the First, though she’d spent three on the Source. But G’raha couldn’t then and couldn’t now find it in himself to be upset that she’d gone home to celebrate.

But all that was in the past now. Marked indelibly on time’s surface, and immutable. They’d all come home, and he was in hers, completely too quiet as she looked at him.

“Hello, G’raha?”

She looked well, and he commented as much.

“Thank you. I suppose I should be grateful I still have my appearance, when it’s been a rough last handful of years.” She laughed. “Anyroad. Do you know why you’re here?”

“The Lord Commander—er, Lord Speaker?—Ser Aymeric sent a letter saying that you and he required the attendance of one Scion of the Seventh Dawn to receive and bear a message back to the others at the Rising Stones. Etien, is everything all right with you?”

“I am healthy and happy. But whether the message you take back following that is good news, well, that is where our opinions may diverge about all things being well.”

G’raha tipped his head, ears bobbing with the motion. “How could any news be bad news, if you’re doing well? I don’t think any of us could blame you for wanting a break. Even the most devoted of the rest of us have had days we put our feet up and called for tea to be brought.”

As he said that, a pot of tea was indeed brought, placed next to Etien alongside a dish laden down with a croissant split down the middle, one half smeared with a nut paste and the other with fruit preserves.

“A bit late and light for a lunch, isn’t it?” he asked.

She laughed. “Oh, I had my lunch. This is so I can keep my energy up. And the tea—rooibos tea, if you were wondering—is for the soothing sensation of the warmth. Not to mention, it’s a habit I would be hard-pressed to kick, so we modify it that I may still indulge safely.”

G’raha laughed at the formality of her diction. “You sound like you’ve become quite the noblewoman in the, I’d say, close to four moons you’ve spent here again?”

She snorted. “In my defense, I was quoting Whitecape.”

“A capable chirurgeon.”

“Very much so.” Etien sighed, crossing her legs at the ankles in front of her. “But we didn’t call you here to talk about the head chirurgeon, or to pick apart my changing speech patterns.”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Shh, put it out of your mind. I was only teasing. In any case, this break will be longer than just a day spent reading in bed. I’m about to be under medical supervision while I stay in Ishgard. I don’t need a vacation; I’m taking maternity leave.”

“But you’re the Warrior of Light!”

He watched something darken in her expression, looking much the way clouds passing in front of the sun did.

“G’raha, I ask this with all the love in my heart. Are you aware that I’m a real person?”

“I—what? Aye, I do. My referencing the stories was not because I thought they were in any way made up—”

“No, that’s the problem. You heard the stories, all that time ago, before we met and all that. You read Edmont’s memoirs, didn’t you?”

“I did!”

“So you knew, the day you met me outside the Sentinels, what was waiting for me. Knew already how I was going to bleed and spit and cry, and—I don’t think I wanted you to warn me, that’s not what I’m saying. You know that for all I’ve done on Hydaelyn’s pillar with the star on my shoulders that I’m just a scared little girl?”

“You never seemed that way to me. You’ve always been able to rise to the occasion, always been a hero. My hero.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you you had me afraid that I was about to be very much alone, my companions frozen in a sleeping deathlessness, you dragged me away from my husband mere weeks after our wedding, and you almost got me killed by Zenos so you could have me help the First. Not to mention edging on a Lightwarden when I got there.”

“Oh,” G’raha murmured, seeing the way Etien clutched her handkerchief, the way her tail flicked on the seat, next to her leg.

“I can’t imagine how you managed to do that,” she said, quiet suddenly. “How you never—” her jaw clenched, then relaxed, “—never asked any questions. No, that makes sense now.”

He reached out, and she let him lay his hand on hers.

But she ignored it, and kept talking. “Mine has never been to question, unfortunately. Which you know, having heard the tales of me. You’ve always known me, always been one step ahead of me even as you threw yourself to the foreign country of the past. Knew everything about me before I got to discover it about myself. So you didn’t need to ask anything. Not even if I was willing to help you.” She looked up at him, blinking placidly. It was eerie, how she was usually so animated—had always been—but now she was quiet, movements and voice understated as she explicated. “It’s disappointing. That and painful, that your respect for me would go deeper than the average Eorzean’s, because you knew the whole story root to leaf, and yet you couldn’t help acting just like them. Making me your first and last idea to solve any problem, because I would never fail, not when it all hung in the balance. I had to transcend this body—its pain, its hunger, its exhaustion—because Hydaelyn entrusted me with this curse of a blessing.”

G’raha’s ears had long past gone flat, now utterly downturned. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to give me the ages of nineteen to twenty-five back.” She sighed. “That’s cruel, I apologize. Do the books—not Edmont’s, he was busy telling everyone of the Etien he knew and was living with—do they tell of my grief? That I had finally grasped freedom from my life in the Shroud, to be beholden to the needs of the city-states and the agenda of the Scions? That when I was coming into my own as a woman and a weapon, I was accused of crimes far beyond my most sinister thoughts? That I was shuffled from ushering in fragile peace to being the wedge of war for liberation so quickly I— no, they wouldn’t, would they? They tell of my actions, not my feelings.” She laughed. “Or there would be tomes solely dedicated to me and Aymeric.”

G’raha resolved to show her such tomes—they did exist—another time. But for now, she seemed to be running out of steam.

“I wish you’d asked, G’raha. Asked me what being me was like, when we gathered Aethersand. Asked me if I would join you on the First. I would have told you anything you wanted to know. I would have said yes. Instead, you commanded me because you’d made a giant of a terrified girl who hadn’t been living for herself for six years.”

“And I can only offer my deepest apologies,” he responded, trying to abandon the tone he’d always struck as the Exarch. He realized now that he would never fully divorce himself from that position, to her mind. The damage had been done, the bridge burned. They could only step across the charred remains together.

Etien sighed, closing her eyes, then gave him a smile as she opened them. “I can’t say ‘it’s all right,’ but I accept your apology. Someone needed to do the things I had to do, and I choose not to fault you for ensuring I did them.”

“You… choose not to?”

“If I resented everyone who had ever put pressure on me to be The Warrior of Light and not a living, feeling being, I would be holding a grudge against at least half of Eorzea.”

“Fair enough,” he mumbled, ears drooping again.

“Now, I digressed very far afield from my point. I asked you that not to question your belief in me or the stories you heard. The heart of it is that I’d like to have a family, and frankly, every chance I didn’t take before now was risking never being able to. Whether that was because I died or was rendered incapable of having children. Unfit to parent, I mean, above all.”

“Right.”

“So, do you think you and the others can make like the residents of the First and be Warriors of Light for a while, until I can come back? I’m not turning my back on Eorzea. I’m just doing what I haven’t in six years—living my life.”

“I can tell the Scions. You’re in a delicate state and can’t leave Ishgard.”

“Do you think they’ll deduce your meaning?”

“What kind of delicate state could someone like you be in, other than that?”

Etien laughed. “A fair point. Come, I can walk you out.”

_

The flood of letters from everyone came soon after that.

Tataru’s, full of the well wishes Etien had known were coming (had really hoped for, and kept returning to, between all the other letters that had much more flustered tones).

Alphinaud’s and Alisaie’s, jammed into one envelope, where Alphinaud started fretting from afar and Alisaie demanded to be an aunt.

Urianger’s, packed to the gills with advice—as Etien had expected—though a good amount of it was much more useful than anticipated. Y’shtola’s, Thancred’s, F’lhaminn’s, Mother Miounne’s, for the gods’ sake, all were just as she’d thought they would be, though there was one surprise, delivered by falcon, apparently.

“Congratulations and wishes of continued good health to mother, father, and baby (babies?). Hopefully the parcel of clothing arrives equally safely to this letter. We did not want to burden the falcon unnecessarily with both deliveries at once.  We hope to hear from you soon! With love from Doma, Rin and Hien.”

Etien smiled wide as she read that one. Though as she folded it back up, she was startled by a shout in the streets, a darkening of the sky, and the low thud and rumble of a landing dragon.

She glanced out the window just in time to see a red eye peering in.

Etien stepped outside, eager to greet her Dravanian visitor.

“Vidofnir!”

“Ah, my friend, how long it hath been since I have gotten to speak with thee. A Scion did come unto me bearing news of thy return, and thy subsequent confinement to the city?”

She nodded. “For my health, and the health of my children,” she gestured vaguely toward her abdomen, “I have to stay close to home. The Forelands might be a bit too risky for me, even.”

“A shame. I would have liked to celebrate with thee, had the chance arisen.”

Etien smiled, tilting her head back to meet Vidofnir’s eyes. “And we will! After the kits are born. Then, we can celebrate twice as many occasions.”

“Ah. ‘Tis good to see thee in such high spirits about the matter. I feared the worst when I received word.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“I know not what succor I can offer thee in these times, but know that if thou hast need of me, thy call is all I require.”

Etien bowed without thinking. “I will certainly keep you in my mind and heart.”

“Then I wish thee well until we meet again, Warrior of Warriors.”

She waved as Vidofnir took to the skies again, the dragon miraculously lifting off the stones even with so little room between one building and another to flap.

And then she returned inside, neither dressed for the cold wind blowing down the street, nor prepared in any other way to remain outdoors.

It had been a long few days. She was going to nap, and get back to the letters later. If, Fury willing, Aymeric would help her sort through them and formulate appropriate responses, that was.

And while she had the time, early though it may have been, she wanted to think of names.

[illegiblewords]

8|

HEY GUYS.

GUYS.

THEY’RE ALL LITERALLY ANGELS.

WINGS INCLUDED.

I’ve mentioned in passing before that the Amaurotines were basically angels, but shit man the Ascians are actually fallen angels.

And like, I stumbled into the Elidibus shot but his wings are made of Zodiark my dudes.

Oh shit.

And not just fucking that.

Time to look back at the lyrics to Shadowbringers.

Some quick disclaimers! 1) There will be bits of this where I just go idk. Because sometimes idk lol. 2) I am 10000% sure that this song has layers similar to how Tomorrow and Tomorrow has layers. Tomorrow and Tomorrow I’ve heard people speculate it could be the people of the alternate Source future or the Amaurotines, and if it is the Amaurotines whether it’s directed at the Warrior or Hades or both is also up in the air. So while there is the very, very literal reading where it’s like yes this is the First and the first arc and focused all about things that happened in the First’s plot, I think the secondary meaning might seriously apply to the overarching patch arc/Ascians as a whole. 3) Pls don’t be afraid to challenge me on shit lol I just found this and am flying by the seat of my pants.

For whom weeps the storm, Her tears on our skin The days of our years gone, Our souls soaked in sin These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow

“For whom weeps the storm/her tears on our skin” honestly the most significant point posed imo outside of nice imagery is that the question needs to be asked. Could be either or both, respecting WoL and co. versus the Ascians/dead Amaurot. “The days of our years gone/our souls soaked in sin” again, could be either side here. Depends on what further gets revealed about the fourteenth member of the Convocation and the summoning of Hydaelyn probably, but I think it’s fair to say both sides got stained in shitloads of blood. “These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow” not only is the history painful, having to keep moving forward and figure out some kind of future in light of it just makes it more painful. Also a note, a few other peeps online noted that Emet-Selch reacted insanely strong/negatively when Urianger and Y’shtola commented on his future. And just as another thread, I want to highlight that the Ascians for a good chunk of their appearances talked about things being foretold.

Who fights? Who flies? Who falls?

FALLEN ANGEL MOTIFS. COULD BE WARRIOR. COULD BE ASCIANS. COULD BE BOTH. AGAIN, QUESTION GOTTA BE ASKED BECAUSE BOTH SIDES GONNA HAVE BLOOD ON THEIR HANDS.

One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives On their shadows, away we fly

First two lines are relatively straightforward imo, WoL versus Ascians there. It could be Emet-Selch versus WoL specifically but honestly I’m unsure. Tbh it could be fellow summoners along with WoL versus Ascians or it could be one person versus one person. “Threescore wasted, ten cast aside” IT TOOK ME. A GOOD WHILE. TO FIGURE THIS OUT. There’s a saying “threescore and ten” that existed historically. Threescore is sixty. Ten is... ten. But basically, back in the day seventy years was the generally accepted average livespan for a human being. Threescore wasted = sixty years of a seventy year lifespan in vain, ten cast aside = ten years of a seventy year lifespan. “Fourfold knowing” I think has a double meaning within too. First, there’s an idea in Buddhism called the Fourfold Round that I think is precisely what this is referencing. These come out to direct knowledge of feeling, direct knowledge of perception, direct knowledge of fabrications, and direct knowledge of consciousness. Given these, I suspect that at minimum by the end of patch 5 the three Unsundered Ascians and the Warrior of Light will all fit into roles within this, and we’ll probably be able to tell which is which. Personally I’m leaning toward WoL being direct knowledge of consciousness because especially when you factor in the Echo that gets pretty wild. An additional level though, four in East Asia is commonly associated with death. So no end in sight coming right after FOURfold seems like it’s missing some foreshadowing of the end. Possibly.

The road that we walk Is lost in the flood Here proud angels bathe in Their wages of blood At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

AMAUROT IS UNDERWATER IN THE TEMPEST. SHIT’S FLOODED. ASCIANS ARE PROUD ANGELS BATHING IN WAGES OF BLOOD. EITHER THE SHARDS + SOURCE GOTTA END TO REGAIN THE ORIGINAL WORLD OR THE ORIGINAL WORLD HAS TO END TO MAINTAIN THE SHARDS + SOURCE. And casting off tomorrow, if we jump up to previous lyrics about memories aching with the weight of tomorrow--I think this foreshadows being liberated from pain of past and future both to continue living in the present. Again, could be wrong about how that gets interpreted, but I do think a link is there. Also I mean the world is ending, that’s the point you no longer have to worry about what comes next. There is no next.

One brings shadow, one brings light To this riddle all souls are tied Brief our moments, brazen and bright Forged in fury, tempered in ice Hindmost devils, early to rise Sing come twilight, sleep when they die Heaven's banquet leavened with lies Sating honor, envy, and pride One brings shadow, one brings light Run from the light

First two lines, everyone who exists is gonna tie into the tragedy of how the shards + Source came to be and the conflict between WoL and co. versus Ascians. “Brief our moments" through “tempered in ice” I think is referring to the whole strength born from limitations and facing negative emotions/obstacles rather than avoiding them. Hindmost devils means the devils farthest back are the first to rise, which could be WoL or Ascians depending on reading. If it’s the Ascians and they’re taken as fallen angels I mean devils are fallen angels. But that also mixes metaphors given proud angels earlier. If mixed metaphors are a non-issue though, “Hindmost devils” through “sleep when they die” would more or less translate to the oldest devils are the first to act and seize power. They celebrate the coming of night and do not sleep. “Heaven’s banquet” through “pride” again, disclaimer mixed metaphor going on but I think it might be neat if it is WoL and co. or more specifically Hydaelyn. I don’t think it strictly comes to Heaven/Heroes = evil but that Heaven has hidden corruption that makes people feel better about themselves but is kind of ugly. Then again, all of this could probably be flipped too. This section is tricky. But if run from the light = Hydaelyn that shit’s gonna be fascinating. Also, I do think Zenos whether he just attempts or succeeds in nabbing one of the big two primals is actually gonna go for Hydaelyn. Lots of reasons for this including “she won the first time” and “Zenos dun give af about creation” and “she’s right there whereas Zodiark is super scattered” and “Zenos is basically an opposite to Emet-Selch philosophically and might work as another way of exploring negative light connotations”. But run from the light would be reaaaaal interesting if that goes down.

Authors of our fates Orchestrate our fall from grace Poorest players on the stage Our defiance drives us straight to the edge A reflection in the glass Recollections of our past Swift as darkness, cold as ash Far beyond this dream of paradise lost

“Authors of our fates/Orchestrate our fall from grace” the characters involved created the primals themselves, in so doing being the authors of their fates and damning themselves when shit went out of control. Could precede that too and be broadened to other circumstances probably. I do think it is gonna come up that all the bad shit that happened stemmed from choices made though. “Poorest players on the stage/Our defiance drives us straight to the edge” references some Shakespeare. This being “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/And then is heard no more. It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/Signifying nothing.” Shakespeare bit is saying that life is brief and ultimately not real/an act where everyone worries during the brief span of the story but all too fast it’s over. There’s a ton of passion but ultimately it’s small and petty and meaningless. If we link this back to poorest players on the stage and the defiance, it is basically challenging the idea of a brief life being meaningless. So would apply more to the mortal characters. “Reflection in the glass” I thiiiink might reference the idea of real identity versus not real but idek. “Recollections of our past/Swift as darkness, cold as ash/Far beyond this dream of paradise lost” these lines are prob linked as a trio far as I can tell. Memory comes fast as darkness/the coming of night (tying back to sing come twilight maybe? also the end of the world as it is), cold as ash refers to the dead of Amaurot probably. And I’m not positive on that juxtaposition with paradise lost, but it may be suggesting that the dream of perfection rings hollow and there’s a reason that what is now being remembered as paradise is long dead.

Home Riding home Dying hope Hold onto hope... Ohhh... Home Riding home Home, riding home Hope, finding hope... Ohhh...

Shits both WoL and Ascians here.

One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned One brings shadow, one brings light One brings shadow, one brings light You are the light

One more chapter = gotta get closure for Amaurot and the Ascians. “Want for nothing, nothing denied/Wand’ring ended, futures aligned” this took me a bit, and it feels like possibly a reach imo, but my guess for now is: Emet-Selch was talking before about maybe there being a way forward without so much bloodshed. I still think guy’s gonna come back as a clone and I think/hope that we can fuckin’ trust recruit him (”I may even lend you my knowledge and strength” I AM HOLDING YOU TO THAT EMET-SELCH IF I HAVE TO BEAT MY ENEMIES TO DEATH WITH YOUR CORPSE) and find some kind of middle ground that doesn’t just = fuck Amaurot and destroy Zodiark. That would feel too simple to me. I kind of think some sort of rejoining will need to happen... but not simply Zodiark rejoining into a giant monster primal. I think Hydaelyn and Zodiark gotta become one being.

Also. If that is the case Lahabrea better have some fucking good notes to justify that dumb attempt to fuse with Igeyorhm in a first-time aether experiment while fighting the Warrior of Light. Because then it would be more cool even if the timing was still terrible life choices.

But yeah I think that’s gonna tie into futures aligned stuff.

We fall We fall We fall We fall unto the end

One world's end

Our world's end

Our end

We won't end

I am shadow, I am the light

This bit’s p. straightforward lol.

But yeah I am still super jazzed about this feel free to challenge my readings! I think stuff is there, just dunno if what I found correctly identifies the stuff lol.

[leejafythe]

The Need for Comfort in Dark Times (18+)

FFXIV Write 2022 Entry Prompt: Stress Relief (Free Day) Word Count: 2943 CW: Endwalker spoilers, panic attacks, self doubt, vaginal sex AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42050817

Boots off, gloves off, weapons down. As Leeja looked up at the moon, she saw it in a different light. Metaphorically, of course. She worried for Urianger but was glad he was out of the danger that was Hydal– Etheirys. A knock at her door drew her attention from the moon to the door. She walked over and opened it to be greeted by Thancred and smiled tiredly “hi love, are you alright?”

“Can we talk? I have something I need to say and need to ask before I cower away from doing so” he gave her an uneasy smile.

“Of course, would you like to come in?”

“If I do I worry I won’t leave, and we’re going to need all the sleep we can get.” She nodded, but gave him enough space to enter if he wanted to.

“Don’t worry. Nothing desperate or dire, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not yet. You know, we may have quite literally entered our final days. The ancients went so far as to call it that for a reason” she listened and leaned against the door. “If so, then everything we did for Ryne, for the First… will have been meaningless. And I can’t accept that. I just can’t” she took his hands gently and squeezed them.

“I know, love. I know. She’s been on my mind since all this began” she wasn’t lying. She didn’t have the time to go back to the First in order to check on her and Gaia and make sure everything was okay with them both.

“My mind won’t allow for the possibility… and that could be a problem. When we’re in the thick of it, I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to be pragmatic this time. To run, even if running’s the right choice. The only choice. So if you see me turning a blind eye to the harsh reality… beat some sense into me would you?” he smiled as he made the request, causing Leeja to giggle.

“I’ll go a bit more gentle on you next time” he chuckled and shook his head a little.

“I trust you and the other Scions with my life, and I’d like to think the feeling is at least occasionally mutual. I’d never forgive myself if my stubbornness put them in danger. If I put you in danger” he stepped forward and pulled her close. “Gods, listen to me. I’m beginning to sound like the father I never had.”

“Oh my love, it sounds like you’re just getting older and maturing” she teased lightly.

“So, can I count on you to keep me in line? I can think of no one else more eminently qualified.”

“As long as you don’t pull any heroic sacrifices. I’d have to punish you if you do” she curled her arms around his neck as his went around her waist.

“Oh, well if punishment is in order then I might have to attempt it” he smirked as she giggled and kissed him gently. “Now I can breathe a bit easier. Which isn’t to say I will, given what we’re up against. Let’s keep this little chat our secret, I’d rather not have anyone scolding us for burning the midnight oil and you need some rest” he kissed her forehead as her fingers weaved through his hair. She sighed and pouted.

“You’re right. I’m feeling exhausted and I should rest. You sure you won’t stay?”

“It’s safer I don’t, else neither of us will get any sleep” he rested his forehead against hers gently before letting go. “I know it isn’t a favourable outcome but I promise we will see each other tomorrow, alright? I love you” with one last chaste kiss they finally parted.

“I love you too.”

He began his walk down the corridor until she called him back “Thancred?” he stopped and turned around. Leeja swallowed hard and looked at him “I… I need to get some things off my chest too and you’re the only one I trust with them” she fiddled with her bracelet as he walked back over. 

Thancred closed the door behind them and removed his coat, gloves and chest plate as he perched on the edge of the table. “If you need to talk, darling, I will always make time for you. It must be bad if you need to get things off your chest.”

“I uh… it is. Kind of” she rubbed her arm gently. “You aren’t the only one worried about Ryne. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about her since all of this started. My fear for her safety only got worse after I defeated Zodiark and then to be told that if the Source falls so do the shards… Gods, I thought the pressure to stop the eighth umbral calamity was stressful enough but this…” she looked up at him. “I don’t know if I will have it in me to run either. The weight of several worlds is currently resting on my shoulders but–”

“Come here” he held his hands for her and she took graciously. He sat on the table properly and she between his legs. “Leeja, what are you really trying to say to me?” she swallowed hard and sighed quietly.

“I can’t do this alone. The pressure is too much and if I do it on my own I’m going to break and I don’t think I can pull myself back from that. So, promise me you won’t let me do this alone?”

“I promise I will be by your side every step of the way, I will not leave you” he kissed her knuckles gently.

“You mean it?”

“Every word” he kissed her deeply and held her close. 

Thancred could feel her trembling in his grip and squeezed her reassuringly “Leeja, what’s really bothering you? And it’s not just the future.”

“...What if I’m not strong enough?”

“What?”

“Whatever is waiting for us… What if I’m not strong enough to defeat it? What if you all get hurt or worse?” her panic attack had started and the trembling finally made sense.

“Look at me, darling” she looked up at him. “You are strong enough. More than strong enough. And you will not be alone, not by a long shot” she looked down.

“It seems stupid to worry over. I’ve beaten gods before, hells I took down Zodiark and–” her rambling was cut off as he kissed her quickly.

“You are allowed to worry, you’re mortal, darling. Not immortal” he smiled softly.

“But I’m supposed to be strong, supposed to be able to take on anything.”

“No one expects that of you, at all.”

“But they do though. And I feel like I’m letting people down.”

“Leeja, what’s really going on? I’ve never known you to question yourself so thoroughly” Thancred grew concerned. She scratched the back of her neck hard and bit her lip.

“I’ve heard people… talking… about me. About how Zenos is still alive because I failed to stop him. People are blaming all of this on me not being strong enough and I can’t make them stop. I feel like people are looking at me different and I can’t shake the feeling,” she looked down, “I can’t shake the feeling that they’re right. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Salt and burned his body when I had the chance and I didn’t and because of my indecision people have died, a nation has fallen and people are homeless because I didn’t take the initiative” she whimpered softly as Thancred shook his head, pulling her close and holding her tightly. Her arms curled around his middle as she buried her face against his chest, small wet patches beginning to soak the fabric of his shirt.

“They’re scared, darling. Absolutely terrified and looking for someone to blame. Unfortunately you’re the one they are going to blame. They don’t mean it, you know they don’t. You’re just stressed, you’re scared as well, we all are. You’re also exhausted because these accusations never normally bother you” his hand rested on the back of her head as his fingers combed through her hair. “You need to rest, my love.” It pained him to see her so conflicted in her own actions. The last time she questioned her own judgement was at the loss of Minfilia.

Leeja was silent as she gripped onto him tightly. “Leeja?” he let go of her head and she looked up at him, exhausted. Her body ached, her head hurt and her feet felt like they were on fire. She knew she needed rest or at least a long, hot bath full of relaxing bath salts but that could wait until the morning. “I think it’s time for bed, hm?”

“‘M not tired…”

“Then will you allow me to help you relax?” she narrowed her eyes a little.

“How?”

“Undress and lay down on your front. You’ll thank me for it” he gently pressed his lips to her forehead as she purred softly at the feeling. 

She finally began to remove her armor, painfully. She reached up to unclasp the buckles and hissed painfully “fuck!”

“Easy, let me do it” Thancred stood behind her and began to unbuckle her chestplate, placing it down on the table next to her gloves. The cotton t-shirt she wore to protect herself from the plate armor was damp and cold, a result of how much she had exerted herself during her time on the moon. As he helped her remove the article of clothing, the injuries began to reveal themselves. Various bruises from various hits, cuts and scrapes and slices from weapons. His fingers traced over a hand print on her arm, making him frown, yet she pulled her arm away quickly. “Who did this to you?” Leeja couldn’t answer. Just saying the name made her want to breakdown in a panic attack. “Was it Zenos?” her ears rested flat and she closed her eyes out of shame. Thancred’s anger burned brightly in his chest. He took a breath and sorted himself “it’s fine, darling. You’re not in trouble” he held her close as he hugged her from behind, his warmth filling Leeja with a calm sense of normalcy and safety.

He kissed along her neck and shoulder as his hands worked on unlacing her pants. She gasped softly and rested her head back against chest as one hand moved up her torso slowly, feather light touches leaving burning trails of goosebumps across her skin. Leeja’s hand moved and tangled in his hair as he bit down slowly and carefully, avoiding damaged areas. Thancred’s hand cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers as she whimpered his name softly “shh, darling. Let me look after you tonight” she purred softly and shivered as a gentle breeze blew through the small gap from the window. “Lay down on your front” Thancred reluctantly let go and chuckled as she whined but did as she was told.

Leeja huffed as she heard Thancred moving about and a gentle clink of glass meeting a plate “what are you doing, love?”

“Warming something, do not concern yourself, just relax” Thancred smiled as she looked over. He was hiding something but she knew it wasn’t malicious. She closed her eyes while she waited, humming softly to herself a song she had been taught as a child. Thancred listened and walked over to the bed and ran his fingers lightly over Leeja’s back for a moment chuckling when she shivered at the touch. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know what you’re doin’ so sure” she purred as she kept her eyes closed. Thancred poured some of the warmed oil on her skin, and began to massage her back and shoulders slowly and with a precise pressure and with absolute care. “By the twelve… feels amazin’.” 

“Excellent, that was my plan after all” he continued to massage her back, slowly moving down to the middle of her back and then her lower back, massaging carefully around her tail and earning a soft moan of his name.  

She needs rest. No sex tonight. It’s better for you both to just sleep he told himself over and over, yet it made no difference. His cock had other plans, twitching uncomfortably against his pants with every moan of his name. He swallowed thickly as his breath caught in his throat for a brief moment as he traced her spine ever so gently, feeling her tail curl around his arm as his hand went lower and lower until he gently squeezed her arse cheek, making her squeak with shyness; a shyness that remained for a brief moment until the hand slipped between her legs. Leeja gasped with surprise for a moment and turned to look at Thancred who smirked a little, wiping off the excess oil from her skin. He cleared his throat “how are you feeling now?”

“That was nice” she smiled tiredly at him and sat up to look at him “though, there is one part you missed that could do with being massaged” she smirked a little, noticing the tent in his own trousers. She stroked her fingers over his erection slowly, watching him gasp and shudder at the feeling. “It seems you’ve a spot that could do with its own massage” she purred softly in his ear.

Thancred knew it was a bad idea. He could see the exhaustion writ clear on her face, but at the same time he could also see the need. The need to not think, the need for closeness. The need for distraction, for familiarity. For him. The world was falling apart and there would be no time for familiar come the morrow. He needed it too, though he’d never say a word to anyone, not even Leeja. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Thoughts of the safety of his friends, of the First, of Ryne. The more he thought the more he realised that he didn’t want to think, he wanted the distraction and the closeness just as much as Leeja. 

Without warning Thancred pushed Leeja down on the bed, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head and pinning her down with his body “Th-Thancred…”

“Tonight is just us. Nothing else.” She laced her fingers with his and squeezed his hands gently before leaning her head up to kiss him deeply as she gripped his hands tight for a moment. When he finally let go, she took the advantage of scrabbling at his shirt and tossing it on the ground, hand exploring every inch of his toned chest. 

“Never get bored of this” she mumbled the words just loud enough for him to hear as she traced over various scars from various battles. 

“Despite the many scars?”

“They add to your charm” she grinned for a moment before breathing out suddenly as he rolled his hips against hers. “That, however, is just teasing” she dragged her nails down his back before he got off the bed quickly and discarded the rest of his clothing as Leeja removed her smalls quickly, tossing them on the pile.

Thancred climbed back on the bed and back between Leeja’s legs quickly, making her whimper as he slowly slipped two fingers into the miqo’te, her eyes rolling back and hips bucking without warning into his hand “easy, darling. We have all night” he spoke softly as he curled his fingers and applied gentle pressure as his fingers gently stroked her sensitive spot making her whine and pant softly. She opened her eye and met his gaze, moving her hand to rest on his cheek lightly “are you alright, darling?” she nodded and smiled warmly.

“I am but… I don’t want to fuck, I want to make love with you instead” Thancred felt his face flush and pulled his hand away, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. He pushed into her slowly, both moaning softly at the feeling. 

Slow, somewhat delicate, deliberate movements between them let them go for bells. A layer of sweat, hot, panted breaths mingling together, hands touching and grasping at the other in a bid to be closer. They climaxed together with a soft cry, their breaths coming in short, ragged pants as Thancred rested his brow against Leeja’s as they recovered. Neither of them wanted to move and ruin the moment. “I love you, to the end of the world and back” she whispered the words and kissed him gently.

“I couldn’t put it better myself” he smiled softly. “We should clean ourselves up and rest” he chuckled as Leeja pouted before agreeing. 

They took the time to clean up and change the sheets before climbing back into bed once again. Leeja cuddled up to his side and rested her head on Thancred’s chest, listening to his heartbeat to keep her calm. She laid her arm across his middle as his hand rested on her hip, gentle stroking her skin as she purred away. “Thank you, [Moonbeam].”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Coming by tonight and listening to my rambling but most of all… for putting up with me” Thancred was taken back by the last five words.

“Leeja, darling, I love you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have stayed by your side. I don’t just ‘put up with’ you” he thought for a moment. “You are doubting yourself again. Try and get some sleep, you will feel much better come morning.” He was right, however Leeja’s brain wouldn’t settle. She laid quietly and listened to Thancred fall asleep. Eventually his heartbeat settled and Leeja finally fell asleep.

[mirroralchemist]

August 2022 Writing Update

Uni is starting up soon so I can’t commit to saying these are gonna be consistent for the fall season, but I’ll do my best

Word Count: 438 Notes: Once upon a time I wanted to participate in Wolianger week. But this was back when I was still getting my feet wet writing Urianger heavily so I never did it. But I did attempt something for the prompt “Cards” for my spring Camp NaNo session and only now starting to type it up. So just a little thing there.

He went to the table to start placing the cards back in order. I watched in silence as he did so. It still took some adjustment to see Urianger unobscured by his clothing preferences. It was comforting to visualize his face in full now. He walked up to me, his vibrant yellow-green eyes reflecting the same kindness and warmth I sensed from him. He plucked the cards that were in my hands. His brows rose in surprise before he chuckled.

“’Twould appear the divine looks favorably upon thee.”

He placed the last cards back in his deck before placing them on the table once more. He took a seat, motioning for me to sit beside him. I gave a nod before obliging in his silent request. Being here like this felt more familiar. Reminders of times past of sitting with him when my travels had me in Vesper Bay.

“Curious?”

He laid the cards in a spread face up. From there I saw the intricate designs on each card. I saw how much care Urianger put into each card. They showed use, but was clear he knew how important they were to him. I felt the gentle hum that was his signature aether among the card deck. Slowly I nodded to his inquiry.

“If thou wouldst allow, I could explain the basics?”

“Oh,” I said in surprise, “I wouldn’t want to pull you away from getting ample rest. We do have a long day of exploration ahead of us.”

“Thou wouldn’t be a burden,” he answered, “To speak plain, I could do well with a distraction. I happened upon Thancred. Distress clear in his usually concealed expressions. Mine attempts to ascertain his mental state ended in failure; mine inquiries met with rebuff.”

“Ah, yes. I may have had a hand in that,” I confessed, “We talked the other night and was met with similar results. I may have not taken too kindly to it.”

His eyes widened slightly. It was clear that out of all the Scions, I was most at ease with Thancred. For me to be irked by his actions (as much as my mind justifies that he’s hurting too) was a worrying thing indeed. Both of us stared at Filia’s sleeping form before turning to look at each other. We shared a mutual look. We would keep watch other the two and step in if needed.

“At the current,” he continued, “My mind is too restless to seek out sleep. ‘Twould be for mine own benefit as well for mine offering.”

When he put it that way, it was hard to say no to him.

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy 14 Writing Challenge Day Eleven: Heart of Gold

Day Ten -- Masterpost -- Day Twelve

As devoted to her work as she was, Moenbryda was well acquainted with noticing when others were paying attention to her. Then again, she thought as she gave a sidelong glance through the curtain of her hair at the two who were trying and failing to not be seen, at least they had innocent intentions.

Roger and Lara, the two Warriors of Light, were shoving each other and bickering in whispered tones. Their “hiding place” was just behind one of the bush planters that the Rising Stones had placed around it as more natural dividers. For as young as they were, the two would have to crouch to keep their heads from being spotted. They were too focused on their heated (if quiet) conversation to notice that it wasn’t concealing them at all anymore. From the way they were pointing, clearly it had something to do with her.

She might as well have some fun with them. 

Gently easing herself out of her chair, Moenbryda padded over to the “hiding place” of the Warriors of Light. Neither of them sensed her as she got close enough to hear what they were talking about. “--don’t see what the big deal is, you should ask her!” Roger hissed.

“It’s your question, you need to ask.” Lara whispered back just as fiercely. 

“Yeah but you ask this stuff way better than I do! And! I’m the one that keeps getting scared by him anyway so I shouldn’t have to ask!”

“All the more reason for you to do it, Roger! You’ve got to show you’re braver than that! Sh-she’ll just think it’s stupid if I ask.”

He stared at her for a few seconds before he responded. “...so you’re whole reason why you won’t talk to her is because you think she’ll think you’re stupid. And that’s why you’ve been getting all blushy around--”

“I don’t! Get that blushy around her!!” Lara whisper-exclaimed, whilst her cheeks grew a darker and darker pink by the second. She seemed to be in the process of hiding her face behind her fingers while she rambled. “Moenbryda’s just! Really amazing and strong and smart and gosh all I did right was fight a few nasty things.” 

It was a choice between giving away her position by laughing or giving away her position by commenting on the not-very-secret conversation happening right in front of her. Moenbryda chose the latter, if only to spare the girl’s feelings. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” Both Warriors of Light let out a very squeaky yelp before simultaneously running their backs into the planter they had been hiding behind. This had been the right call; Lara’s face had only become pinker instead of pale with shame. Moenbryda gave the two of them a wink. “Don’t knock what you’ve done, though. Primal slaying is far more impressive than what I’ve been up to.”

“N--you, uh,” Lara mumbled, her voice getting quieter with every attempt at a word. “R-roger wants to know why…” 

Either in response to getting caught or as a reaction to save his best friend further embarrassment, Roger blurted, “Why is Urianger so weird?” Moenbryda blinked. He continued on when it was clear she had to think on an answer. “He talks in riddles and is always so serious and he always scares me cuz I forget he’s in the room half the time so like why is he like that?” His large green eyes stared up at her own silver ones. “The other Scions say you’re the closest to him, so...?”

What a question. “If I’m going to answer this, we’re going to be sitting at a table instead of crouching behind a planter. With some tea, preferably.” Moenbryda reached down and picked up both Warriors of Light by the arm until they were able to stand on their own. Roger had the more defined musculature, but otherwise the two young midlanders were pretty lightweight by her own standards. Lara was stuck in admiration again until the seawolf had sauntered past her quick enough that the girl had to scramble to catch up.

Not much longer after, the three of them sat at the round table that Moenbryda had taken over for her research. Books and papers were gathered up and set aside, far away from the cups of steaming hot tea that she’d poured. After getting settled in, she looked from boy to girl and back before raising a gray eyebrow. “So. You want to know why Urianger is as eccentric as he is.”

“W-well…” Roger couldn’t meet her gaze, instead scratching at the side of his face. “I just...don’t know much about him. All the other Scions trust him so I know he’s a good guy, but…” He trailed off.

“He’s like a really tall brown wall.” Lara finished for him. When the silver gaze came to rest on her own dark blue eyes, she fumbled for words again. “I-I mean, kind of like R-roger said he’s just...just really hard to guess at what he’s thinking. Even without the…”

“Pray tell, whatever dost thou meaneth, young Lara?” She fluttered her eyelids, putting a hand to her chest even while imitating Urianger’s usual tone. “Surely thou canst thinketh that this manner of speech be...obtuse?” That got a genuine giggle out of the girl. Nothing like making fun to offset nerves. “Surely one such as thee can fully grasp the intricacies of language far better than that of thine peers! Oh the youth of today hath fallen in scholarly pursuits! For shame!” The extra drama Moenbryda added got both of the teens to laugh. A success if she should say so herself.

“In all seriousness, though, Urianger has always been more in favor of keeping to himself than spending time with others. I’d say it was miraculous that he’s stayed this long in the company of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, except that our Master Louisoix helped bring them together. And he’s grown fond of them since.” She blew at the hair that partially covered her face. “Ever loyal to those he deems worthy of loyalty is our dear Urianger.”

Lara and Roger looked to each other. There was something of a silent conversation between them before he seemed to lose and so spoke next. “Is that also why he sneaks up on people so easy? Because he keeps to himself a lot?”

She couldn’t stop the grin from growing on her face even if she wanted to. “He’s perfectly capable of making noise while he walks. I suspect he stays quiet around you purely for the amusement that comes when you discover him, though you’ll never be able to suss out that confession from him.”

“What!” Roger stood in his seat, getting dangerously close to spilling what was left of his tea. 

“Did you not think him capable of humor?”

“Yes! I mean no! I mean--” The boy sat back down hard and dug his hands into his red hair as he stared at the table. “Oh my gods he’s been laughing at me this whole time.”

“Now now, he’d never laugh.” Moenbryda pointed out. “Smile, maybe, but definitely not when you could see him.” 

“He can smile too?!” 

“Wonder of wonders, I know.”

“Loyalty and humor…” Lara mused. “Well that’s two things we learned about him that we didn’t know before.” She carefully looked at the older woman out of the corner of her eye. “...Is there anything else you want to add?”

The possibilities of further embarrassing her childhood friend were laid out in front of her like a feast. Anecdotes from their shared past. Hilarious mistakes on his part while they were both under the tutelage of Louisoix. Odd quirks from childhood that he most certainly kept even after having not seen her in so long. Any of that could become ammo for the Warriors of Light to use in order to fluster and annoy him like he deserved after being particularly difficult to understand. 

With a monumental amount of restraint, Moenbryda settled on a far more mature tact. Even Urianger would be proud, were he privy to her current thoughts.

“Loyalty and humor is fine and all, but one must take care if that’s all one knows about a person.” She took a sip of her still-warm tea. “A person of ill intent can still be loyal to their unrighteous cause. Humor can just as easily be derived from cruelty, not just harmless pranks.” Roger looked like he begged to differ, but she continued onward. “It’s the core of a person that one should look out for most of all. What they choose to do, again and again, when there is no reward to speak of or even if they are aware that the result will lead to negative consequences for themself.” 

Looking between the two teens again, she smiled gently. “A concept you two are already familiar with, I’m sure.” 

This time, the quiet was contemplative. 

Lara spoke first. “But...we haven’t seen him doing a lot that involves his core. He’s always so...closed off. Or like he’s hiding, I guess.”

“Well then it’s good you came to speak to me about that.” Moenbryda winked. This time, the girl merely jumped instead of froze. “If I had to say any one phrase fit Urianger well, it would be that he ‘has a heart of gold.’”

“Really?” Roger piped up. 

“Absolutely.” She nodded. “He will always put the wellbeing of others long before he thinks of himself. To his detriment in some cases, but admirable nonetheless.” Pointing a thick finger at the boy, she added, “Even his scare tactics, such as they are, are minor in nature. Enough to make you jump, but not enough for you to go for your weapon, right?”

It took him a moment to think back that far. When he finished, he sounded awestruck. “...yeah. That’s right.” 

“See? You already had some of the evidence in front of you. All you both needed was a fresh perspective.”

Roger stared openly at Moenbryda before turning his gaze back to Lara. “No wonder you like her so much.”

The brief moment of respite for the girl’s poor face died as the pink came back in full force, even darkening into red in places. “Roger!” She shouted at him. 

Moenbryda gave a happy sigh to herself and leaned back a little to drink her tea while the teens argued again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the far more stealth experienced members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn snickering at the scene. 

She might not have known the Warriors of Light for long, but it was good to see that such responsibilities hadn’t weighed them down enough that they forgot how to be their own age. Now if only someone would stop pretending that he was twenty years older than he actually was around her every so often.

[mirror-alchemist]

For the main blog

May 2022 Writing Update

Word Count: 514 Notes: Another month another update. I’m still handwriting a lot (I paid all this money for fountain pens and inks so I might as well use it) but I try to find time to type stuff up. This is one of my many Camp NaNo projects I’m slowly typing up. Mainly how a sleepless night begins the fruits of friendship between Ami and Urianger. Contains dubious attempts at Uri-speak

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