#prompt 1 envoy

[amurr-reha]

FFXIV Write 2023

Prompt 1: Envoy

“My my, what a warm welcome.” The newcomer jests in spite of the situation. “I surely expected him to be joking about how you’d react but here we are.”

The room was as welcoming as any of Isghard’s accommodations for those unwilling to pay a succulent price, absent of the lavish tapestries that the upper echelons surely adorned in their own quarters. The hearth however, was warm, wood sparking and snapping as the flames licked high against the stone, illuminating the room in a muted glow.

The door to the chamber opens without so much as a knock, and the click of a gun is unmistakable, echoing off the stone walls. The form that enters instantly freezes at the presence of a weapon being trained upon them but an amused smile creeps across their face.

“My my, what a warm welcome.” The newcomer jests in spite of the situation. “I surely expected him to be joking about how you’d react but here we are.”

Dagur’s lip curls ever so slightly at the unfamiliar males flippant tone, even more so after their scent gives away that it’s another Viera. Despite the heavy furs and cloth the shorter male wears, he’s still lithe and skin pale, most likely Veena and better built for the colder weather that plagues Coerthas than he. This male however is not the individual that Dagur was expecting to meet today and he is not fond of surprises.

“Says the welp who barged in so rudely.” Dagur snarks, his aim never wavering. “Who are you.”

Before the blonde haired Viera can respond, a second presence comes barreling into the chamber, grasping without hesitation onto the barrel of Dagur’s gun and lifting it up towards the ceiling, forcefully shoving the ochre eyed male back in the process, pushing them farther into the room. A flurry of hand gesturing gets thrown into his face immediately after and Dagur growls in irritation, but lowers his gun at the now familiar pair of eyes glaring at him. He may not be able to see the color of them any longer but the familiar scowl and set stubborn jaw is something he’d hardly forget.

“Tobias doesn’t seem too happy with you, in fact he’s asking if –“ the blonde Viera starts.

Ochre eyes jerk over to the Veena, glaring once more. “I know what he’s saying.” He bites out harshly, all but pushing the Rava away from him, who huffs back in irritation but neither move to engage any further. Dagur doesn’t elaborate either, their past remains buried back in the forest, where it should be, with Her. Tobias resettles into himself, crossing his arms before coming to stand at the Veena’s side, albeit a bit closer to the fire. Ishgard is a far cry from the humid forests of Golmore after all.

Dagur slides his gun back onto his back holster, eyes flickering to Tobias as the other Rava signs a quick sentence.

“Using Garlean weapons still, disappointing.”

Dagur clicks his tongue, signing back, “Not your business rassgat.”

“Well that certainly helps.” the Veena questions in surprise, clearly there is deeper roots to their relationship than Tobias let on, but he remains silent. His partner had always held his past tight to himself. “And with those pleasantries nearly out of the way, I’m Braeden, the one actually here to meet with the joyfully elusive envoy of the Redbills.”

Dagur pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath. “Envoy?”

Braeden cocks his hip as he muses for a moment. “Are you not? I was told by a very reliable source,” emerald eyes amusingly look over at his partner, who turns away as if uninterested. “-that you have good relations with both the Skysteel Manufactory and the Redbills.”

The sandy haired male idly adjusts the virtu goggles that sit just above his forehead before walking over to the lone table in the middle of the room. “Think what you will, but I don’t represent humes, and you’d best bite your tongue when it comes to those who you carelessly name aloud in this place.”

Braeden hums thoughtfully, ears twitching in interest when his eyes land on the unique goggles sitting upon Dagur’s head. A faint burst of magick brushes against his senses before sliding away, a curious thing. The male was stubborn, as are much of their kin he’s has the pleasure of interacting with over the years. He himself might not even realize his dealings with both entities is enough for him to act as envoy in name alone. “Liaison then.”

He grins at the sour look Dagur shoots him, but Tobias shifts next to him and signs something too quick for him to catch, a few unfamiliar signs he hasn’t been taught. Dagur however, has no issue understanding and closes his eyes in what seems like resignation, before tapping two fingers against the table. Whatever transpired between the two is not intended to be shared.

“I don’t care for idle chit chat, leave what you have for the Redbills here and it will be taken care of.”

Braeden huffs in amusement before digging into his coat pocket and procuring a small package, placing it before him. “Tell Mr. Myste with this, our end of the contract is fulfilled.” he claps his hands once in a jovial manner and Tobias rolls his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again. Anything you seek, my trade is likely to find.”

“Let’s go, it stinks here.” Tobias signs, smirking over at Dagur who returns it before walking over to clasp onto the other male's forearm.

“Haltu kjafti welp, leave. Be well.”

[pale-eastern-star]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Original Final Fantasy XIV Characters Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, depressed main character, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Past Rape/Non-con, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2023, Chronic Illness Summary:

A young Raen woman burdened with trauma, secrets, and a tendency to get noticed by the worst sort of people. Chronically ill, robbed of her voice and hounded by enemies and estranged family she has no choice but to assume a new identity as Kawanami Rei and accept a position as a maid for the esteemed Greinsyn family in far-off Old Sharlayan.

Alhdskyf Greinsyn is a sitting member of the Sharlayan Forum renowned for his skills in shipbuilding and knowledge of propulsion. When his Eorzean friend and business partner requests his help with secreting away a treasured lover he cannot find it in himself to refuse his friend.

Can Kawanami Rei find safety from her enemies and time to recover in this new life? Or will tragedy follow her as it always seems to?

[katalinhunter]

Envoy

"i'm late, I'm late!" Katalin was running down the road, leather boots in one hand and a satchel clutched in the other. She wasn't quite sure who she was shouting to but it seemed like a thing that needed to be said.

Her pace slowed as she neared the dock and saw that the ferry was still waiting there, secured. The sound of an argument ahead explained why their schedule slipping.

"Why is this so hard for you to understand? The coachman assured me that all arrangements for this trip were first-class and appropriate for my status. I can bring him up on linkshell if you insist."

The annoyed midlander just stared up to him. "What do you think first-class on a ferry would be? There is no fancy service, no designated seating. If you're lucky envoy then you'll squeeze yourself towards the center and not get splashed when we cast off. Which we're going to do in just a moment whether you're onboard or not!"

"Now see here-!" the Elezen started to reply before Katalin nudged him aside, her satchel banging into him.

"Ah, shut it, take what you get. Limsa has strict laws about delaying a ship's schedule and I don't think you want me to whistle for those Yellowjackets do you?" Katalin gave a sympathetic gaze to the other. "Here's for my passage. If'n you need a bit of security for a minute's work, I'll offer it up for free." She gave the woman a quick smile.

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 1: Envoy

a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

Character(s): Kien Eilath (ARR, 18 years old) CW: None Word count: 483 Notes: Happy 1st day! YAY :3 Short but sweet little drabble with Kien! How far my baby boy has come since this moment :,>

Of all the people to pick as an envoy for Gridania, why him? 

Kien could hardly fathom what the Elder Seedseer saw in him after everything that had led up to this point. Surely, she would’ve thought someone else more worthy of the task, someone who was wiser, older, and familiar with local customs–not someone who barely knew Gridania’s history, or seemed to have a knack for stumbling into trouble, or who just passes out mid-conversation during something important like a Greenbliss Festival he was an emissary for. Surely, this was all a mere jest and she would quickly take it all back...and yet, there was no doubt over the genuineness of her words, something he was not quite used to hearing from people. It was a strange and somewhat giddy feeling to be deemed as worthy.

When he had come to after the ceremony, the Miqo’te was pleased to see his new friend there to greet him but that feeling had quickly turned into dread as Mother Miounne told him the Elder Seedseer had requested his presence at the Lotus Stand. Would she be angry at him for passing out? Would she scold him like his sisters had always done? So many fears and questions circulated his mind as he made his way to his destination; he was practically shaking like a leaf when he came face to face with Kan-E-Senna again. 

She hadn’t scolded him, in fact, she asked how he was feeling after his collapse–she actually seemed relieved to see him on his feet again. That was strange. Even more so when she then entrusted him with the task of traveling to the other city-states as the representative. Her kind-hearted smile and pure belief that he was the right one, and the only right one for this task was enough to wash every fear and doubt away–she somehow succeeded in making him feel as if he was the most important person in the world, even if he saw himself as a bumbling new adventurer.

The two scrolls sat neatly in his bag as he made his way to the airship landing. Despite the slight anxiety he still had over the whole thing, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited to see Limsa Lominsa and Ul’dah in person, knowing the stories his guardian told him about the city-states were just barely scratching the surface. And after all, this was exactly what he had been hoping for when he left Meracydia, wasn’t it? A chance to explore Eorzea and see the sights…the whole envoy thing was merely temporary and he could just go back to being an adventurer after all was said and done, right?

How wrong he would soon come to be, but that of course would be something he’d come to realize and strangely enough, appreciate, much later. 

For now, he just hoped he wouldn’t pass out again.

[unbloomingmoonflower]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 1: Envoy

Shuri blinked at the request that was given of her from Kan-E-Senna. A fresh-faced adventurer, being asked to be an envoy for Gridania? She wasn't sure if Mother Miounne was the one who really put in a good word for her, but the Xaela was not going to be one to object to the request.

Kan-E-Senna was a delegate of Gridania; while Shuri had her own beliefs and traditions, while she stayed in Gridania, she was going to be respectful of the Elder Seedseer and her request.

Kan-E-Senna smiled softly, handing Shuri the rolled-up missives. Even though the parchments were light, for some reason, they felt awfully heavy in Shuri's hands. It was as though they were anchoring her toward events sure to come, events that she surely wasn't ready for.

Yet, the Xaela took these missives with a smile of her own and a bow. "I'll ensure to get these to Limsa Lominsa and Ul'Dah with all due haste, Elder Seedseer," she vowed.

"I have no doubt you will," replied Kan-E-Senna, her smile not once fading away. "Pray, head to Carline Canopy. The airship there awaits."

When Shuri straightened her back, she tucked the missives into her satchel with care amongst her potions and some medicinal herbs she happened to find whilst wandering the Black Shroud. She gave another bow of her head once more before turning to head for the aether shard right outside of the Lotus Stand, to teleport to the main aetheryte near where she needed to go.

This was an important task. She was not going to mess it up.

[nearen]

Prompt #1: Envoy

From the heavens fell scores of stars, blazing their paths in streaks through umber clouds and fiery skies. Rivers ran red, whether as a reflection of the calamity above, or with spilt blood.

Forests burned. Roots wrenched themselves from the earth. Trees with cruel, grasping claws and crowns of fire pursued those who had once sheltered ‘neath their boughs. Meadows were sundered, split and pulled apart as easily as the flesh of fruit. Lakes boiled, and acid rain scoured flesh from bone.

Foul beasts ran amok, preying on and picking off those fortunate enough to have survived the terrors that preceded them. And there was no end to them, no boundary to their strength, no floor to the depravity of their ferocity, no dignity in the death they dealt.

I have dreamt of this.

Where the sun touched the horizon, a grand city was devoured by ruin, illuminated by a halo of fire. Those seeking to escape the destruction poured out into the surrounding lands in droves, only to be chased and cut down by the monstrosities that followed in their wake, devoured by the very lands they twisted beyond recognition around them.

Above all, white feathers soared, observing the breadth of the devastation. Two spirits watched hope perish as one. With a dreadful screech, a terror with claws for wings dove, talons reaching for the delicate bird.

She banked sharply and descended, steering the winds to separate them. There—survivors. Her song called to them, a sweet melody that drowned out screams and cries of despair. Her flight cut through the air, leaving a shimmering trail to be followed.

In her wake, stakes of light rained, piercing the hearts of the aerial fiends that dared stray too close. Yet it wasn’t enough—where a dozen fell, two dozen more rose to take their place. All she—all they—could do was hope that it was enough to earn the survivors enough of a reprieve to reach their bastion.

Far from all else stood a tall spire, their refuge. There, they slept. There, they dreamt. And the manifestations of their fears were insulated within the boundaries of their own mind. While a nightmare unfolded in reality, they warred their own nightmares—handicapped by gambit, a sliver of their awareness sacrificed to their dearest creation, who searched from the skies around their spire. Through her eyes they sought any and all that they might yet welcome into the embrace of their protection.

In sleep, those sorry souls would not be spared from their fears’ grasp. If anything, their terrors would be magnified… yet their apparitions would be confined to their minds, and they would be there to guide and shepherd and fight alongside the rescued—the Dream’s Envoy. Together, they might prevail.

The gates of their bastion welcomed the bleeding and weary. A mother fended off the spectre of her son’s fright, and no one turned back to save her when it seized her and tore her in twain. The child watched over the shoulder of his rescuer as its grinning visage rose from his mother’s body, endless rows of fangs dripping with her blood.

Inside, a spiralling staircase invited them upward, from the summit of which a tender lullaby echoed down. The steps themselves threatened to come alive, yet here, they could only laugh menacingly—shadows and shapes on the walls formed gruesome murals and promised terrible ends for those who sought safety, yet those fierce claws and fatal fangs their foes bared could not pierce the canvas on which they were painted.

The higher they climbed, the more the song seemed to surround them, seep into their very being. At the pinnacle, they stepped out into—a blazing battlefield, a platform amidst the clouds, where terrors beyond counting battled resistance forces in the skies. All around them, burning stones carved fiery paths through the skies.

Their hearts sank… They had believed they would find sanctuary here. Yet—the valiants above them were not losing. They neither gained nor lost numbers or ground.

Before them hovered a serene apparition, their eyes closed, a mandala of prismatic colour and kaleidoscopic intricacy turning behind them like the wheels of time. Dark feathers cascaded down their shoulders, their back in the form of both mane and cloak—stormy plumage adorned with gilded armour formed the wings that folded across their figure, framing a secondary mouth centred in their chest. It ceaselessly sang the sweet lullaby that had lured them here.

They were bleeding heavily, their true form marred by deep rends and savage scars that would never heal. The asymmetry of their flagging flight suggested more than one feathered appendage had been torn away.

“My friends,” they began, remorseful, “You will find no respite here. You will face your deepest dread, and its wrath will be merciless. There will be no awakening from this nightmare. Not until fear itself is conquered.”

They cast an arm upward into the skies, and a glaive of light shimmered into existence, settling into their waiting palm. In the hands of each of the survivors, a weapon befitting their soul coalesced into substance in their grasp. The young boy too: A sword and a shield that felt like his mother’s devotion were his to claim.

A bitter truth of life is that none are too young to fight for their future if the need should arise.

They spun the glaive in their grasp, gripped it vertically before them with two (of many) hands. From above, a resplendent white bird descended, alighting softly on their shoulder as though she weighed no more than a feather.

“Thus, fear itself is our enemy, and we shall not rest until it is overcome. Take heart, though—for as we turn our battle inward, we spare the star from our strife. You are not alone, and we will persist. For those we have lost, and for those we can yet save.”

With a gentle smile, they turned, and their wings arced, then fanned, gathering the winds. They ascended, bracing and levelling their glaive to confront the horde of horrors conjured into being by their petrified charges, twisted beings so numerous that they darkened the skies.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite23 Entry #1: Envoy

FFxivWrite 2023 FFxivWrite23 Masterpost Prompt #1: Envoy

“Does the name Zularti Vensar mean anything to you, m’lady?” Faye’s hands immediately went limp, dumbfounded. She forgot about the teacup she had been holding, fumbling and catching it before it completely upturned, but not without sloshing several drops of its contents onto her gloves and the pink tablecloth to stain the fabric. Had she misheard him?

“I thought it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it…” the Lalafell across the table continued thoughtfully, stroking his snowy white beard. Lord Raisan Arcmantle had been a friend and colleague for nearly a decade, and few could be as steadfast or capable, but perhaps his age was beginning to catch up to him. “Excuse me–I’m sorry, what?” the Midlander sputtered, unable to get any other words out. She took a moment to collect herself, quietly clearing her throat. “Why… why do you ask?” “We had a visitor here at the teahouse by that name a few days ago, and I showed him around. He said he was a member of the Harbingers of Dawn from the old days. I didn’t recognize him, but it’s been a long time, and my memory isn’t what it used to be… But he had his free company badge, and I know it as one I made by my own hand,” Raisan explained, and Faye did her best to keep up her calm veneer even as her head spun, finding little succeed in the endeavor.. “Zularti? That’s not… That’s not possible… He’s…” Her words trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the thought, and she shook her head slowly. He couldn’t possibly be alive, could he? After all this time, all her searching, could he just show up out of the blue? It was the conclusion her heart leapt to, what she wished to be true more than anything else, but she couldn’t allow herself to entertain the idea and set herself up for such grave disappointment. So what was this, then? A cruel joke or veiled threat from someone who knew far too much? “What did this person look like?” The Lalafell continued to run his fingers along his goatee as he tried to recollect. “He was tall… but I suppose everyone is taller than me. My apologies, m’lady. I don’t remember much else that stood out. My memory is failing me.” Faye stared down at her teacup, her hands shaking. It took all her focus to be mindful of her Magitek prosthetic, to make certain she didn’t crush the porcelain beneath the metal digits. The conversation continued, but it felt so far away, the Hyur lost in her own thoughts. Raisan had given the visitor a tour and they reminisced. Raisan offered him a room to stay at the teahouse, but the man had refused. She would ask a question as casually as she could, and Raisan would offer a response that brought her no closer to the answers she truly wanted. Her dismay must have been so apparent from across the room that Drakkaern had taken notice and wandered over to her side to offer his comfort, and while some part of her was vaguely aware of his presence, she was too preoccupied to acknowledge the poor man with his hand upon her shoulder. “He did say he will return sometime. It should be easy to spot him if he does,” Raisan surmised. “We don’t get many Hrothgar around here.” Faye stared at him in disbelief. 

“Hrothgar?”

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #1: Envoy

(Time period is set around the start of Heavensward.)

Nebula wasn't sure what had drawn them to the frozen north after they had set out from their home. Not that they had been drawn to Coerthas right away. That would have been folly. Especially as unprepared as Nebula had been for the frozen temperatures.

Maybe it was the many stories they had heard of Lady Iceheart. Some part of Nebula felt the ones deemed as Heretics by Ishgard were not quite as the stories told. That the whole war between man and dragon had to have more to the story than the side told by man. Especially the side told by the Ishgardian Church of all things. Some part of Nebula felt that the Church painted the picture in their favor but they had no proof. Only feelings. Their feelings were rarely wrong. Fate always had plans and if this is where Nebula was to go, then to the north they would head.

Perhaps it was just their upbringing. They had been raised to be the leader of their clan in time once mother stepped down. Sometimes one needed to be able to see both sides with open eyes and not blindly trust stories being told. Maybe that was what drew them north. To see and learn in order to help them one day be a better leader for their people.

Nebula had picked what had seemed like an old camp to take a break at. Unsure who used this camp but it was long cold. Karma floated about acting as guard while Nebula rested, letting their familiar keep an eye for signs of trouble. Rubbing their upper arms as they tried to ward off the biting cold. Trying to use their magic a little to keep the warmth in their clothes as the logs slowly burned to cast heat from the small campfire.

Ears twitched as Karma froze for a moment before snarling softly. The nixie shaped familiar shifting forms to that of a shadow beast. Nebula stood to face whatever Karma was sensing approaching them. "We mean no harm if this is your camp we have borrowed. You are welcome to join me at my fire."

"You're trespassing. Hand over your belongings and begone."

Nebula sighed softly as they shook their head. They could only assume the trio were either bandits or heretics. None wore the colors or knights clothes of Ishgard and one of it's Houses. Maybe it was possible to use these three if they were indeed heretics. If they were bandits? Sadly Nebula would do what they needed to stay alive even if they did not enjoy killing poor unfortunate souls. After all this part of the world was hard for those with no status. That much they remembered being told.

"I'm afraid I carry very little you would be interested in or that would make your lives better in any way." Nebula shrugged as they forced a smile at the trio. "Though if you happen to be those branded as Heretics, I would like to talk to your leader. I have no ties to Ishgard as I am but a traveler from the deep woods of the Shroud. I would also advise against trying to attack me for that would result in Karma jumping to my defense and I fear that would mean your deaths."

The trio looked between themselves, talking in hushed angry tones. One of them, a mage perhaps judging by their clothes, was pointing towards Karma in warning to their friends. Their expressions did not look happy when they looked back towards the viera awaiting their answer.

"Lady Iceheart is too busy to deal with the likes of you. Call off your beast and we'll take you to Lady Gwyneira. She can decide your fate unless you'd rather die out here instead." The spear wielder snorted as he sneered at Nebula. "Cause I'm willing to take my chances against your beast." His one hand fingering a vial of something on his belt.

Nebula sighed as they waved a hand in Karma's direction. "Then let us go see Lady Gwyneira." Karma letting out one more low growl at the trio before shrinking back down in size from the large shadow beast and becoming once more the innocent looking nixie.

More than once on their path through the ice and snow did Karma growl threateningly at the trio if they tried to touch Nebula.

[kailani-ffxiv]

Prompt 1: Today

It was her last day in the port she grew up near. Last.. that word felt misused, a piece from a different puzzle. It wouldn’t be the final time she saw the warmth of a sunrise reflecting off the stone heart of the city or listened to the gulls circling their prey from the morning’s catch. But for now she needed something these routes couldn’t offer her. She wanted to move on from whispers and shadows. The cool salted breeze obscured her vision as strands of midnight sheltered her face from below a teal brimmed hat. 

Lazy mornings were an unknown concept to him, his day started bells before most. Today was an exception, today was different. Most would opt for a day off or travel away, instead he found himself back in town collecting what he could to help another. Long forged deals and partnerships paid back in double. Winks and lopsided smiles traded for supplies. His warmth was contagious spreading like glitter. A grumbled competition gave in to his charm, his network ran deep despite it being peppered with confections and provisions. With full arms he hugged the offers he had gathered close, this.. this was just the start.

Ink pulled and twisted under the pen, silently painting a picture from a perch. How many days- two. The answer pulled from paging through the last few notes. Two days he had been watching, waiting for the next step. He rolled his shoulders, checking his surroundings letting his eyes scan for changes. A soft sigh eased into the stone that supported his back, fingers drumming an unheard rhythm as the morning air fluttered the pages of his notebook. A familiar crystalline structure scribbled in black, a collection of half finished portraits of passing faces.

[@baxter-ffxiv & @wkiba-ffxiv are my other OCs featured in this piece]

[chocoblep]

#1: Outside

As always, the Light suffused the Rak’tika Greatwood. The shade of the canopies above had always been a buffer, and even though he was used to seeing the full force of it through the shafts that broke through the trees, Kesjaris was not looking forward to venturing out into the open. In the open, Sin Eaters and predators alike would be able to pick out his dark silhouette against the Light-infused landscape. In the open, there were few places to run to, to hide, to use as cover. Hunting would be difficult; ambush was his preferred method, but he supposed he would have to make do with the bow he’d made.

“You understand that I will kill you should you return.” The Viis who crouched beside him on the massive branch of a great tree watched him, his deep, bark-colored skin throwing his light blue eyes into stark contrast and the faint age-lines on his face the only mark of his veneration. His expression was a mixture of wariness and question, as if he wasn’t quite sure that Kesjaris would leave. 

“I do not wish to go, but Halje, I must. We have lost two villages to the Light-touched. Warders are going missing. Territories, abandoned. We knew this when the unfamiliar Warder sought us out.” Kesjaris frowned, looking in the direction where they had found the ghostly shell of their home village.

“And yet, you abandon your own.” Halje’s words dripped with disappointment.

Kesjaris sighed. “No one else will.”

“We do not need outsiders fighting our fight.”

“It is not only our fight. I have seen the edge of the Greatwood. I have climbed to sit above the canopy and look out over the world that we can see from our place among the trees. There is no end to the Light, anywhere I look. It was not always this way, as you know.”

“I have been alive long enough to remember the Greatwood before the Light took us, yes,” Halje said carefully.

“Then you know that this problem–this encroachment of Light-touched within our territories–began as a manageable incursion, and has steadily gotten worse. Soon, there will be none left to fight it. We will lose ourselves.” Kesjaris paused, looking into the eyes of the Viis beside him. It was not long ago that he had been just a jack, taken away by Halje to train. He would have fought the man soon, to determine if he was ready to take on the territory. Halje was an elder, even among elders, and Kesjaris had no doubt that he would not be alive much longer. “Take another jack, Halje. Train another Warder.”

“You were my hope,” the man said, and then looked away, toward the village they knew to still be occupied. “But if you insist upon leaving, I will not stop you. You are likely dead either way.”

“Then I die finding help to fight this blight,” Kesjaris said stubbornly.

They watched each other for a long time in silence, the stillness of the moment only disturbed by the cry of a bird or the rustling of critters below. That, too, had become less frequent. If he could take a guess, he would say that the Viis would die two-fold: The Light-touched, and the hunting growing ever more scarce.

“Take this with you,” the other man said, pulling a small pouch from his sash and handing it over, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Kesjaris took the pouch. When he opened it to look inside, he spied a gold Ronkan coin about the size of half his palm. “This is yours–” he began, looking up to find that Halje had vanished. No goodbye. No words of wisdom. Simply gone.

Disheartened, Kesjaris began his journey to the edge of the Greatwood, preparing to take his first steps out into the great unknown. Perhaps it was better this way, with no one to watch him go.

[tricksterfiction]

Prompt #1: Envoy

The way the wind moved and the air felt was always heavier, heavier than it would have been before a terrible rainstorm. Rich in mystery, steeped in time, glowing in abundance through the mirrored surface of a portal - Sen Urabe pushed through fingertips first to the other world. Begrudgingly meeting on the branches of an old old canopy beyond the star she knew. Even if the kitsune she represented were most often fighting among themselves, they still had plenty of time to trade favours with others.

Where light struggled to break through, creatures were darting between the shadows, floating through the leaves - but to the spirit world traversing raen she looked positively bored. It turns out even the ancient spirits beyond their realm found mundane things to fight over, and this was one of many kind of meetings to come.

On her heels belly low to the ground was an shimmery orange likeness of a red coat fox, in the breaks of light one could see the multiple tails swaying behind them. Beady black eyes stared ahead, ears scooping about with alertness.

They walked along thick branches, winding pathways to the surefooted. Arms floated out to keep balance on the narrow branches, moss was growing thicker with each step and eyes were on their backs...they were getting close. Stopping suddenly near the end of a branch as it curved into a circular opening, peering down all light disappeared.

She tossed her focus up over the open space, the crystal glowed a bright red.

Sen's lips puckered with thought, "Remind me, what exactly do you have to offer these folks?"

Kaze her spiritual patron by contract replied, their voice harmoniously pitched both high and low, "You are offering extermination detail, potent and precise extraction of a certain invasive species."

"Really? Is that what we're all the way out here for - clean up duty?" She complained, "I've done my time cleaning bed pans, massaging bunions, disinfecting-" Fingers coming up to count off all her examples but not before getting cut off by a mean little hiss from Kaze.

"These spirits...!" Kaze hissed then pulled back from snapping, "Are not equipped to such a thorough cleansing as a mage with fire. You can handle that can't you, little breeze?" Calm condescension, as usual.

Hanging her head back with a groan she crouched low offering Kaze the crook of her elbow to climb onto. Her focus floated back to her hand and hooked to her hip, the light holding steady.

Fearlessly she hopped off the ledge falling straight through, green streams of aether poured from the focus down her legs and surrounding her feet. What little light was above quickly became a pinhole the further they fell. From her shoulder Kaze was tethered, and announced their arrival with shrill barks in an ancient language.

Blinking past several unfamiliar creatures both big and small, Kaze's call was answered and the darkness took shape and the clearing came into view their descent slowed, gently landing like a feather floating down. The very tip of her boot first then settling.

Greeted by tall - far taller than she stalks of fungi, waxy in texture, deep frills, colourful array of the under canopy's dark network of a forest. Bio-luminescence provided just enough light to see the small eyes hiding among the mushroom caps, in the deep folds. To Sen's desensitized nose, the musty aroma was earthy and pungent.

Turning at her waist, she was surrounded by the spirits she came to help. Slowly scanning, she cleared her throat, "Our services ain't gonna come cheap but I can promise what needs be done will be done."

[thesithdiaries]

Prisoner (Part 3; FINALE)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were offed, major character death, talks of forced marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

(Part 1) ; (Part 2)

“Get up!”

A rough voice boomed through the quiet chamber. You jolted awake, disoriented. As you tried to rub your eyes, you saw multiple Kingsguards entering in haste. “What’s happening?” Instead of answering, the knight grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. “What is the meaning of this? You’re hurting me!”

They rushed you to the Throne Room, and without a second thought, the knight pushed you, prompting you to fall to your knees, grimacing at the sting of the cold floor.

“You!” You lifted your head and saw Aegon. “This was your doing!”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking at Alicent and Otto, who stood next to Aegon. “I-I have no-”

“You killed my son,” Aegon growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at you. “You had him murdered in cold blood. Now I will do the same to you.”

“I would never hurt Jaehaerys,” You managed to say before Aegon took a step toward you.

“Son…” Alicent warned, noticing your appearance. Your skin was gray and lifeless, cheeks sunken, and eyes red.

“Perhaps we should let her speak,” Otto suggested, motioning for you to continue.

“I do not know what you’re talking about. I have been in my chambers all day, the one I have been locked in,” you reminded him.

“Liar. You did this as revenge because we are keeping you here.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Jasper interrupted, “the princess has not been seen leaving her chambers. There are guards in front of the door at all times.”

Deep down, Alicent knew you were innocent. You could not have done something like this.

“Take her away,” Aegon ordered the Kingsguard, annoyed. The knight grabbed your arm and pulled you up, dragging you from the room. Your whines of pain echoed through the hall.

---

“My daughter sits captive in the Red Keep. Did you consider her while you schemed for revenge?” Rhaenyra interrogated Daemon.

He sat there, rather annoyed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I could not get her myself.”

“Did you think it would be easier to rescue her while they dealt with a dead child?”

“At least I did something,” Daemon argued back. “What have you done? You left for days, searching for Luke, while she remained a prisoner in King’s Landing after you decided to leave her there, unprotected and surrounded by our enemies. Why not ask Rhaenys or Ser Erryk why they left her behind?”

Rhaenyra scoffed, “How dare you.”

“She is also my daughter,” Daemon reminded her, “and I will stop at nothing to bring her back to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys stood outside the chambers, listening to their argument. The guilt felt asphyxiating. His brother was gone because he volunteered them as envoys. His sister was a prisoner because he did not fight hard enough to make her leave with them after dinner.

“I cannot trust you, Daemon,” he heard Rhaenyra say. “You sent two assassins to slay a child. How can I trust you with her safety?”

At that moment, Jace made a decision. He would go to King’s Landing to bring her back.

He sped through the castle, gripping the hilt of his sword. Vermax would have to stay behind if Vhagar was guarding the city; he could not risk losing his dragon. If he did, his mother’s side would lose a valuable asset, and his sister would also suffer.

Jacaerys ran down the stairs, seeing a Velaryon ship in the harbor. Surely, someone on it would help him reach King’s Landing by nightfall. He saw many knights and servants walking up the path. More allies, he thought.

A weak grip on his arm stopped him.

His heart beat erratically as he recognized the person in front of him.

“Sister,” Jace gasped, his eyes darkening at your state. “What did they do to you?” He softly caressed your cheek.

Jacaerys hastily lifted you, not entirely convinced you could walk up to the castle on your own. You laid your head on his chest, tears of relief flowing down your cheeks. You were finally home.

“Your Grace!” Elinda, Rhaenyra’s loyal handmaiden, called out. “The princess has returned.”

Rhaenyra stumbled into your chambers, seeing Maester Gerardys tending to you. “My sweet girl.”

“Mother,” you whined.

“How is she?” Daemon asked.

“There are no notable injuries, apart from a bruised arm and scraped knees. She has noticeable weight loss. I will prepare a remedy for the princess myself,” Gerardys bowed and exited in haste.

Rhaenyra made her way to the bed, sitting next to you and cradling your face. “I am so sorry.”

You closed her eyes, happy to feel your mother’s warm and soft hands. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I wanted to return to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra assured you. “But some things happened here, forcing me to stay.”

Jace stood at the foot of the bed, while Daemon stood next to Rhaenyra. “How did you get out of the Keep?”

“A man helped me,” you informed them, furrowing your brows.

After being forcefully taken to and from the throne room, you sat at the edge of your bed, wondering what had happened to Prince Jaehaerys.

The door burst open, startling you. “Come on, Princess. We need to hurry.”

It was a strange man, someone you hadn’t met before. “Who ar—”

“We do not have much time,” he urged. “Prince Daemon sent me. Put on this cloak.”

You perked up at the mention of your stepfather. Ignoring the ache in your bones and stomach, you got off the bed and put on the cloak.

You ran out of the living quarters, moving through hidden passages. Before you realized it, you were outside the Keep. The man stopped, not too far from the castle, to meet with someone else. “Are you sure this is her?”

“Yes. Go on, get out of the city.”

“Come, princess.”

As you reached a small boat away from the harbor, you noticed the man was carrying a sack... a leaking sack. “What is that?, you questioned him, but he did not provide an answer. “What. Is. That?”

“Nothing,” the man hissed, holding the sack tighter.

“It’s leaking,” you informed him.

“Be quiet.”

You sat on the boat next to a sailor. As the man was about to get on, Gold Cloaks stopped him. They ripped the sack from his hand and opened it. Screams echoed through the night, and swords were pointed at him.

The sailor began rowing, wanting to get some distance before they noticed who you were. The knights grabbed the man, paying no attention to the boat. Your heart sank as you realized what was in the sack.

“Was it your doing?” You asked Rhaenyra.

“It was an accident,” Daemon replied instead. “I instructed them to find Aemond, not Jaehaerys.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jace murmured, and you shook her head.

“A Kingsguard held my arm tightly when Aegon demanded to see me, that’s the reason for my bruises,” you admitted. “I was locked in my quarters. I only saw a maid and Alicent. She… she told me about Luke.”

At the Red Keep, Aemond had decided it was time to finally face his future wife. But his plan was spoiled.

You were gone.

“How did that bitch princess leave? Where was the knight in charge of her?” Aegon fumed at the continued lack of security.

Aemond, however, was furious. In a fit of rage, he destroyed everything in his path.

You were supposed to stay there, forever, with him. He regretted not having you confined in Maegor’s Holdfast.

All he wished to do was fly to Dragonstone and have Vhagar burn it to the ground. But now, he’d have to be strategic about how to get you back to his side.

[oschonseleven]

Glamtober - Days 1-3

On the road |Autumn | Match your mount

well, I'm a lil late but I thought it'd be nice to hit all three prompts in one to start things off :)

---

glam details below!

Neptune:

Head and Legs: Wayfarer's Barding

Body: Isle Pioneer's Barding

Utha:

Head: Valerian Archer's Hat (Loam Brown I think?? legit forgot before I logged out ;_;)

Body: Moonward Vest of Aiming (Mud Green)

Hands: Augmented Lunar Envoy's Gloves of Aiming (Mud Green)

Legs: Ivalician Sky Pirate's Trousers (undyeable, GP Dark Brown approximate match)

Unseen:

Feet: Moonward Boots of Aiming (General Purpose Dark Brown)

Ears: Palaka Earrings of Aiming

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Prompt #1: Envoy

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/ixGUFKnYqKLz64Cw5

#FFxivWrite2023 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number! Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access. Reminder: The 24-hour deadline does not go into effect until September 8th at 12:00 pm PDT. More about single word prompts here Check you entries here in the Public Spreadsheet

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2023 || kofi

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #1: All Work and No Play

Prompt: envoy || Master Post || On AO3

--

A rapid, staccato knocking on the door to her solar dragged Minfilia back to full awareness. She groaned, quietly, rubbing her face with one hand and shoving the report in front of her off to the side of her desk. Two sennights in Revenant’s Toll and they were still unpacking their new headquarters, but that didn’t mean the usual business of running the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were put on the wayside. The solar currently looked as if Galette had torn through it while channeling a Downburst spell, and that was being kind.

Minfilia had been awake since before dawn, and it was almost noon, now, trudging through the necessary paperwork of keeping her people fed and watered and armed. She was alone today; she had banished Tataru from the Rising Stones since the poor secretary had been working herself even more ragged than Minfilia herself, and most of the rest of the Scions were scattered about Mor Dhona or the rest of Eorzea on various errands. And still so much more work to be done…

…she should probably eat something.

The knocking picked up again, and Minfilia jolted. “Come in!” she called.

The heavy door swung open, and Rereha sashayed inside. The lalafell bard was dressed down today, in cream canvas shorts and a linen top in her favorite shade of sky blue; even her usual stockman’s hat with its jaunty feather was missing, in favor of a pair of sunshades currently pushed up to rest atop her head. Rereha kicked the door closed behind her, and put her hands on her hips. “Girl, what is wrong with you?” she drawled.

Minfilia propped her cheek in her hand. “You know, unlike some ladies,” she said in the same tone, fighting back a smile, “I have a job.”

“Ladies, where?” Rereha made a show of looking around. “Oh! You mean me? Honey bunches, I’m not a lady, I’m a degenerate.”

This time, Minfilia didn’t bother hiding her amusement. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

The bard made a derisive noise and sauntered across the solar, weaving her way through half-unpacked crates and unsorted furniture and stacks of books waiting for their new homes. She swerved around the desk, coming to stand next to Minfilia’s chair and forcing Minfilia to twist her head around and down to look at her.

Rereha crossed her arms and tsked. “If you’re going to give Tataru time off, you should take it, too.”

Minfilia huffed. “I’m the Antecedent—”

“Nuh-uh!” Rereha stood on tiptoe and shoved her index finger right into Minfilia’s face. “Not today, sugar cube! Today, you are the pretty shining star of the Toll, and you are going to take some time to rest your brain from the nonsense that’s keeping us in the black and have fun. The books won’t suddenly all go to shite because you take one day for yourself. Also, you should eat.”

On cue, Minfilia’s stomach growled, and she sighed heavily and rubbed her face again. Her friend was, shockingly to anyone who knew the bard, actually correct. Minfilia had burned herself out before, years ago, and climbing back from it had been awful, never mind the setbacks it had created for the Scions. She should take a break, even if only for a day.

To the hells with it.

Sighing once more, but this time fond and resigned, she gave Rereha her full attention and a wan grin. “All right, all right,” she said. “I assume you’re the one who volunteered to talk sense into me; what did you have in mind?”

Rereha cheered and clapped. “Nothing strenuous, and you’re already dressed for it,” the bard said.

Minfilia glanced down at herself—a pink blouse, simple trousers, and woven sandals today—and relaxed a hair. Well, that was a relief; Rereha’s idea of fun or a good time wasn’t always tame, after all, but it was probably safe to assume that a bar crawl through Limsa Lominsa wasn’t on the table if she didn’t need to tart herself up.

Her friend held out her hands and Minfilia took them automatically.

“Trust me?” Rereha said, golden eyes shining.

“Always,” Minfilia said.

Blue and white aether gathered around their joined hands, and in a moment, Teleport whisked them away from the Rising Stones.

--

By unspoken accord, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn rarely called on Synnove at her house in Cedarwood, the better to allow the Warriors of Light a modicum of privacy and keep work more segregated from their private lives. Not that some of them hadn’t been invited or visited before, but today most of the Scions had been collected from across the realm by their four meddling Warriors of Light and shoved into Synnove’s yard for a La Noscean clam bake.

(Or the best version of it, when the beach wasn’t available. Synnove’s old advisor from the Arcanists’ Guild was in attendance, overseeing the firepit steaming the bounty of seafood Alakhai and Synnove and Tyr had hauled from the Red Rooster marketplace, and in between her grumbling about proper traditions and shoving Ivar away from trying to nap amongst the hot stones, was arguing with Y’shtola and Urianger about spell theory and the latest journal out of the Studium aetherology department.)

Minfilia propped her chin in her hands and grinned at Thancred across the table in the yard she had claimed as Rereha returned with frothy mugs of ale for all three of them. “And just how did you get convinced to come?” she said, claiming a mug and pulling it close to her chest. “You’re a worse workaholic than I.”

Thancred snorted. “I would think that the answer should be obvious with how I arrived,” he said, voice as dry as the Sagolii. “I was in a meeting with the Sultana when Heron barged in and threw me over her shoulder without even a by-your-leave. I’m fairly certain it was planned, too, the Sultana just waved to me with the most smugly innocent grin I’ve ever seen.”

As Minfilia threw back her head and laughed, Rereha raised her mug in a toast. “Y’all workaholics needed a damned intervention and we were happy to provide,” she said. “When was the last time any of you had a day off?”

“What’s a day off?” Thancred said, deadpan. And then, lips curling in a familiar smirk, “Can you eat it?”

“How dare you, I have that trademarked!”

Minfilia laughed all the harder, half-wheezing, as the two bards cheerfully tore into one another.

This, she decided, should be something they did more often.

BEGIN! || NEXT

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Prompt #1: Envoy

When I heard I'd been made an Envoy,

I just couldn't stop jumping for joy,

Until the Elder Seedseer,

Said "'Let me make myself clear,

It's a nice way to say Errand Boy..."

The silliness has begun...