#q'yala

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 24: red skies at morning

The moon is red.

The moon is red, and Menphina’s hound is growling.

And the Puk tribe of Thanalan, they of the rock-cut tombs and the aldgoat herds and the long memories, can do nothing. Mothers clutch their children close. Aldgoats’ milk runs dry. Cheese spoils before its time. There are voidsent sightings in Drybone, mass goobbue migrations towards Ul’dah, rumblings that the Garlean Empire is truly preparing for another war. Amidst all this, how is Q’yala Terret supposed to concentrate on her own duties?

But she is a priestess of Azeyma, and the sun does not stop rising because the moon is filled with blood. So she rises with it, singing as she goes. At noon, she dances, flinging dried flower petals in the air with each swirl of her skirt. In the evening, she is the first to light the braziers. Her aunt, the current head priestess, narrows her eyes in that way that lets her know she’s being overzealous, but she doesn’t care. She has a duty. And she will perform it, because—

Because the alternative is to still be awake when the moons rise. First silver, and then red red red—

Red as her aunt’s eyes. Red as the fire flickering in the braziers.

The red moon is getting closer.

Closer.

And then—

—One day—

It falls.

Dalamud cracks open like an egg, shards raining down on the defenseless land below. By some miracle, their tribe is spared, but their southern herding grounds are simply...gone. Only twisted loops of violently orange crystals remain. She hears that Louisoix Leveilleur and his organization are the only reason it isn’t worse, that the dragon-god Bahamut would otherwise have destroyed them all. She believes it.

Her tribe is divided on the question. Her father thinks they’ve done all they could, and they should simply thank Azeyma their tribe was spared. Her uncle Tenbe thinks the Garleans were somehow in league with the Amal’jaa—none of them have seen Bahamut, after all, and who else summons primals except beasts? Her mother keeps her mouth shut, and nobody knows what she thinks.

“It is done, Yalila,” she murmurs as she helps Yala brush out her long red hair, the same way she did when Yala was very small. “There is no use assigning blame. We are alive, are we not? And so the goats must be milked regardless.”

She finds she is not much interested in milking goats anymore. Neither, it seems, are most of the rest of the tribe. Tempers flare brighter than the sun, each of them rocked by the wake of the Calamity and seeking to cling to what they can control. Knowing what’s going on doesn’t make it harder to swallow, especially when her sisters and little mothers and aunts are all at each other’s throats and she can do nothing.

Well. She can do something. She can leave. If there’s one less position to fight over, one less point of friction, maybe things will be better. And they get a lot of news, here so close to Camp Drybone and the church. The Scions are wanting someone to deal with the beast tribes. She can do that. She can do that well.

And so, six months after the Calamity, Q’yala Terret arrives in the Waking Sands.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 7: noisome

“So what,” Gan demanded of no one in particular, “is th’ Eorzean fascination with chocobos?”

It had been a very, very long day of battle on the Bozjan plains. Her comrades—Vivian, Q’yala, the taciturn viera Pavo who’d fallen in around her campfire at some point—mostly didn’t bother looking up. She was actually pretty sure Pavo was asleep.

Vivian wrinkled their nose, though whether that was at her words or at the gore they were wiping off their staff she couldn’t tell. She was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to use the ancient and powerful weapon of a half-forgotten black mage as a bludgeoning implement, if for no other reason than all the fiddly bits made it a right pain to clean. “I have no idea. I can’t imagine willingly sitting on anything that smells that bad.”

She nodded fervently, warming to her topic. “Aye, you’re tellin’ me! And I grew up with horses an’ dzo an’ sheep, which do not smell like a bed o’ roses, but there’s somethin’ just—worse—about horsebirds. Acrid, like.”

Pavo lifted his head slowly, “...You are saying my Inkbrush smells worse than all that...magitek you carry around?”

He said magitek like it was a dirty word, and she grit her teeth. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t start another fight. Alan would be disappointed, if for no other reason than he’d probably want to get a few hits in himself. But he was across Eorzea, and she was here. “Different kind o’ stink. Horsebird stink gets up in your nose and stays there, and you can’t even open a window about it.”

Q’yala snorted, evidently amused. “Never let my brother hear you say that. Do you know what he named his?”

“...I’m not gonna like this, am I.”

“Q’seris. Like she’s family.” Q’yala rolled her eyes. “Chocobos aren’t so bad, though. They are fluffy and fast, live perfectly well on tough grass and insects, breed readily, and when they are done running they are still perfectly edible.”

Gan considered this. “But in the meantime, you gotta deal with the smell. And the fact that they bite and have knives on their feet.”

“So do horses,” Q’yala pointed out.

She opened her mouth. Thought about the kind of injuries she’d seen horses dole out. Closed her mouth.

And, finally, said, “But they still smell better.”

[ffxiv-swarm]

🌻… a suggestion @ Q'yala

“Hmmm. How to say this...politely...Eirk’a Demau, while I of course recognize your talents in battle, do you suppose it might theoretically be possible for you to, ah...not dive headfirst off every tall building like some sort of imbecile who thinks he’s immortal?!”

[ffxiv-swarm]

@Q'yala - 6: Eating habits and sample daily menu?

Yala loves Ul’dahn food! Lots of little plates of vegetables, meat, fruit, flatbread, etc. She gets especially nostalgic over aldgoat and roasted tuco-tuco, even though she insists they never make it The Right Way outside of her tribe. Given the chance, she’ll pick fruit over cake and meat over fish; Thanalan river or lake fish tend to be somewhat muddy, so she’s never developed a taste for it. She also doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth.

Breakfast: Flatbread, slices of fresh fruit, tea Lunch: More flatbread, smoked aldgoat, cheese, marinated eggplant, more tea Dinner: Pickled vegetables, smoked meat, Guess (it’s tea and flatbread again) Snacks: Dried fruit slices, a handful of roasted nuts

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@ Q'yala - What has your character almost done that made someone talk them out of or convince them not to do it?

Yala has absolutely wanted to either a) execute prisoners or b) kill people who have surrendered. Or both. Probably both. Imperials aren’t really people to her. If this was pre-ARR, it probably took Minfilia herself to sit her down for a Stern Talking-To, with the end result that she’s still slightly scared of the woman. Since then, she’s at least focused her executions on the tempered, which can be argued as a mercy killing.

[ffxiv-swarm]

@Q'yala: What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

...On one hand, it’s probably her judgemental attitude. On the other hand, it could be her snobbery...or her impatience...or her bad temper. Really, Q’yala Terret is just not good at interpersonal relationships, which can probably be put down at least partially to having grown up as one of her tribe’s sun priestesses, communicators with the divine. Had she not left to be an adventurer, she almost certainly would have taken over for her grandmother in time (with the strong backing of her mother and aunts) -- and she knows it. Even when she’s trying to be nice, patient, and/or considerate, it doesn’t come easily to her, and she secretly envies her brother Sevet’s cheerful, fun-loving attitude.

The fact that she hasn’t told him that goes some way towards explaining why he thinks she can’t stand him. No, Q’yala Terret does not have a lot of friends.

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“where are your parents?”

@crowsaerie-rp started this and I’ve been meaning to do it for like a month))

Ritanelle: “...Still in Gridania, so far ‘s I know. Da was a bookkeeper at the Ebony Stalls and Mum kept house. They--I don’t know if they still do.”

Evrard: “They are dead.”

Gantsetseg: “Mama and Papa and Da are all still with the tribe, tending our herds and riding our horses. I get a lot of letters from them!”

Rrisya: “My parents run a general store in Gridania with my father’s clan, such as it is. My sister will inherit it.”

Portia & Tiber: “...Our father was the second tesserarius of the first cohort aboard the Agrius. Our mother runs a hair salon in the capital with her sisters and sister-in-law. She...probably thinks we’re dead.”

Shinju: “Running a jewelry shop under the Ruby Sea, in Sui-no-Sato. When I left--to study, you understand--they were doing well.”

Q’sevet & Q’yala: “Our father is nunh of our village, and remains there. Our mothers are a potter and a priestess.”

Hoelun: “They’re all with the tribe! Second Papa is a wonderful weaver, and Mama makes the best khuushuur. I know they worry, but I try to write back when I can.”

Erasmus: “...Dead. They died when I was a lad. That’s life in the Brume, y’know?”

Pavo: “My mother is a huntress in our village. I don’t know who my father is.”

[ffxiv-swarm]

UNSOLICITED ASK PROMPT: Temira - Dedication

Q’temira Leiwo’s tribe has done nothing for her. Terret is strong as a buffalo, but his heart is weak; her older brother cares more for his wives and children than he does for the duties of a Nunh to lead his people in war with the Amal’jaa. Tenbe is more clever and she’s always been fond of him, but her younger brother will take no actions that do not benefit him. Neither of them understand or care to learn about womens’ things, about the work she and her sisters do thanklessly each day.

Weave the clothes. Bathe the children. Sing the sun to rising and the dead to their graves. These are holy things. Good things. Important things. Things that the priestesses of Azeyma must do, for the proper order of the tribe. She’s never wanted to weave or herd or bear children or throw pots, and she supposes she should be proud when her mother says she will lead the priestesses some day. That she should be proud to be remembered in the genealogies beyond a list of Q’leiwo Nunh’s get.

The Imperials come upon her and her brother’s wives gathering herbs for medicines too close to one of their castra, and she bows her head and goes without a fight. To spare us, Q’yaanhari will tell her daughter years later. (To betray us, Q’shaness will growl to her son.)

She is trained, fed, sheltered. She takes a name, one she has chosen. She takes harder and more dangerous missions, earning her rank by more than the simple magic that any woman of the Puk tribe ought to be capable of. Her tattoos fade, nearly invisible on her dark skin. And finally, the day comes.

In the wake of Baelsar’s Wall, Temira eir Harenata returns to Eorzean soil.

[ffxiv-swarm]

Q’yala Terret, seen here Judging You.

[ffxiv-swarm]

UNSOLICITED ASK PROMPT: Q’yala - schadenfreude

Castrum Meridianum was burning, and Q’yala Terret walked through the fire. She leapt over rivers of blood and molten metal, waved aside enemy attacks with a gesture. The Imperials couldn’t touch her. She was a blessed daughter of the sun, and she burned.

She remembered A’aba. She remembered Aulie. She remembered the sylph Noraxia. She remembered the Waking Sands silent and cold and bloodstained, the deaths she’d arrived too late to prevent. The castrum burned, and she sucked in a breath of clear air.

Above the gunfire and spellfire and the screams of the dying, she threw her head back and laughed.

[ffxiv-swarm]

“My turn!” - Tiber and Vivian

Tiber bas Gallius and Vivian Capsari join your party!

Starting line - “Let us be about our business, then.”Assisting - “I did promise to protect you.”Being assisted - “I...thank you.”Witnessing Vivian KO - “...Vivian...?! Viv! Nonono--get up! Get up, I can’t lose you!”Upon revival - “You’re safe. You’re safe.”Witnessing Vivian LB - “...Oh. Oh, you are magnificent.”Finishing line -“It is an honor and a pleasure to fight by your side, Capsari.”

“I don’t have a crush,” Tiber says, like a liar. Though he strives for professionalism, his attitude during combat says otherwise; he’ll cast Cover on cooldown to prevent Viv from taking damage or having to move out of their leylines, and will position boss mechanics so that they have maximum uptime. He’ll pull wall-to-wall on trash, so healers should be prepared; if he dies, Vivian will scold him roundly (as will Q’yala, if she’s in the party). Garlean-style dungeons cause him to fondly reminisce about the capital and ask whether Viv would like to go to this or that place, only to be shot down. If they’re the last ones left after a boss is down, he hands Viv a handkerchief to clean their glasses with.

[ffxiv-swarm]

me: yeah I have enough characters

me, a damned liar:

anyway, this is Q’yala Terret, who I will not be leveling but who exists ingame on Balmung if you want a very annoyed healer. She’s Sevet’s sister, and thinks her little brother is an idiot.

Eyes by Mimi, face paint by Jayzon

[ffxiv-swarm]

Tiber: 📬

📬 - A mysterious letter has just been found in their mailbox.  How does your character react?  Who would it be from? 

I know who you are. I know what you did. Griffins’ eyes see all.

Tiber stares incredulously at the attempt to intimidate him someone--an Ala Mhigan with some sort of grudge, most likely--has shoved into his mail cubby at the Rising Stones. “Really? Really? Is this necessary?” If they’re going to fight him, they could at least face him.

Q’yala pauses in the middle of reading her own mail. “Well...”

“Rhetorical question!”

Still, it rattles him. Time for a smoke break.

[eorzeanfool]

“I mean, it’s worked out pretty well so far for me though???”

🌻… a suggestion @ Q'yala

“Hmmm. How to say this...politely...Eirk’a Demau, while I of course recognize your talents in battle, do you suppose it might theoretically be possible for you to, ah...not dive headfirst off every tall building like some sort of imbecile who thinks he’s immortal?!”

[ffxiv-swarm]

*distant healer screaming*

Gan, cupping her hands around her mouth: DO A BACKFLIP!

🌻… a suggestion @ Q'yala

“Hmmm. How to say this...politely...Eirk’a Demau, while I of course recognize your talents in battle, do you suppose it might theoretically be possible for you to, ah...not dive headfirst off every tall building like some sort of imbecile who thinks he’s immortal?!”