#seiro malkavi

[avampyone]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Master list

I held off on creating a master list initially since I wasn't 100% certain I would be able to finish these. I was going through stressful RL situations last year and wasn't able to complete it then- I'm glad to be in a better place to do so this year!

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Prompt #1: Steer - A New Path

Prompt #2: Horizon - In His Snare

Prompt #3: Tempest - Of Love and Duty

Prompt #4: Reticent - The Wingman

Prompt #5: Stamp - Letter from the Lost Days

Prompt #6: Halcyon - A Visitor at Dusk

Prompt #7: Morsel - Serendipity

Prompt #8: Brain rest day

Prompt #9: Lend an Ear - The Outsider

Prompt #10: Stable - Synthesis Failed

Prompt #11: Surrogate - Never Forgotten

Prompt #12: Quarry - Promise

Prompt #13: Butte - The Prime Suspect

Prompt #14: Telling - Haunted

Prompt #15: Brain rest day

Prompt #16: Third-rate - Wayward Son

Prompt #17: Sally - The Night's Embrace

Prompt #18: Hackneyed - Unexpected Meeting

Prompt #19: Taken - A Little Warmth

Prompt #20: Duel - The Dreamers

Prompt #21: Shade - A Long-awaited Reunion

Prompt #22: Brain rest day

Prompt #23: On Cloud Nine: The Last Waltz

Prompt #24: Bar: More Mezcal

Prompt #25: Perpetuity: Aesthete

Prompt #26: Zip - Camouflage

Prompt #27: Memory - Beguiling Dark

Prompt #28: Deleterious - Rendezvous

Prompt #29: Brain rest day

Prompt #30: Two Heads Are Better Than One: Serenity

[avampyone]

For the endless skies-

[avampyone]

Prompt #23: Last Waltz

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Emet Selch, mentions of Shiramune, Haurchefant and Zenos.

Synopsis: If only for a moment, Seiro relinquishes his duty to create one last memory.

Setting: The Tempest, Amaurot.

Warning - none

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‘Quick and painless. A clean strike through the heart to end his pain.’

Such was the chant of words that had drifted repeatedly through Seiro’s mind this past hour like a desperate prayer. But did he seek to end Emet Selch’s pain or his own? The thought of his loss burned with white hot agony deep in his chest, more so than the corruption of light that sought to consume his will. Shiramune Mol, Haurchefant Greystone…Why must he add another beloved’s name to the death ledger?

Everything that passed by his two-toned eyes felt like a blur of deep blue and black – like a picture of melancholy. He ran with labored breathes throughout the recreated city of Amaurot populated only with the slow motions of the Amaurotine shades that strolled by, seemingly unaware of the foundations of their existence.

Already, the others had begun to sense his hesitation no matter how he sought to compose himself. And every evening that man awaited him upon a bench, gloved hands clasped together, and head lowered with a knowing little smirk near the front of the Pendants Suite. Every evening, unable to deny the rapturous company, Seiro had invited him in.

“Enough! I know what I must do...”

Seiro had a dagger hidden in the length of his long boot. A surprise attack with everything he had left him in would surely work the best. He took in a sobering breath with brows furrowed and determination set in him when he burst through the double doors of the tall building. Only earlier, Seiro had seen Emet heading towards this place in an unsteady gait.

Suddenly, everything felt twisted in the sweetest of dreams and all his senses swallowed up in an inviting haze of rich gold and emerald. A grand ballroom filled with such a grandeur that he could not adequately wrap his mind around, wishing he could recall the freedom of open plains and the high inclines of mountains to explore. The soothing sounds of his father’s morin khuur.

The ballroom lay filled with a lively plethora of those same Amaurotine shades all dressed in lavishly decorated suits and long dresses spinning in perfect flow to the music and rhythm to the elegant waltz. Without fail, that same feeling occupied Seiro as it did on any special occasion – feeling out of place and unwilling to approach those set to the rhythm of the motions.

From the corner of his eye, Seiro had seen the dashingly handsome man make his way over with the outline of a black mask around his eyes, bedazzled with a glittering arrangement of ruby stones that were set in a glyph-like pattern, outfitted in black velveteen robes much like his own.

Resolutely, he had turned to escape through the double doors from wince he came – To look him even once in the eyes would be his undoing. But it was not long before the firm hand closing over his shoulder stopped him. As usual, Seiro felt as if caught in quicksand in emotions that sank him ever deeper with every moment passed in his presence.

“We *cannot* continue like this. Let me go.”

“Please, give me this. One last dance together…” The unexpected plea from Emet, quite unlike all he had seen so far, spoke volumes to his deep-seated anguish.

Unable to deny him, Seiro turned slowly to meet with the warmth of those hands he had come to know so well and crave beyond all reason, “I do not know how to dance. Not like this.” Zenos had been right about him. Seiro only felt the temptation of dance swell with a blade in hand and the promise of blood to spill-both he and his opponent teetering on the edge of life and death.

“You do know. You remembered after all.”

Emet spoke the words in such a sense of comfort like that sentiment alone was a relief to him. And this too was true – the moment that the air filled with a slow and sensual rhythm; he began to feel the steps come so naturally to him.

Seiro placed his left hand over to slink over his right shoulder with the firm press of a palm along his back in guidance. Their free hands came to interlock together to let the ascian take the lead, the xaela's long black tail swaying behind him all the while.

A swirling bliss of sights and sounds that cast away all his doubts and the painful throb in his chest from earlier subsiding. All that mattered was in the here and now in a moment they shared alone. Seiro lost himself in the elegance of the movements when they finally took their place amongst the dancers like the missing piece of a puzzle that should have been there from the beginning.

A part of him wished to never leave this little piece of cloud nine, but it would never leave his memory.

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Going off from - https://www.tumblr.com/avampyone/761482702511849472/prompt-12-promise?source=share

[avampyone]

Prompt #1: A New Path

Characters: Seraphine Desmarais (Hemlocke), Seiro Malkavi

Synopsis: While recovering from hemlock poisoning under the care of the Vath, Seraphine meets a new companion that presents him with a life changing opportunity.

Setting: Dravanian Forelands near Loth ast Vath.

Warning to mentions of death and domestic violence.

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The night reined on with not a cloud in the sky that gave away to a clear view to the moon and stars on high, emitting down a dim soothing light in the clearing of the Dravanian Forelands. A river cut right through the smoldering wastes, offering a gentle hum from the safe spot they settled in nearby. Although greenery was sparse in this part of the land, it had taken no time at all to gather fallen branches amidst the remains of ruins nearby to build up a fire. 

Seraphine had been in awe at the ease of which his companion had set fire to such. Now, he sat rapt upon every word with his legs folded under him. There was a plain gray woolen blanket tucked comfortably around him, his features reflecting an unhealthy paleness and dark shadows under his dull red eyes.

The cool wind lightly ruffled his short black hair with a tired but appreciative smile lining his full lips, “...The Azim Steppe sounds most beautiful to behold. Describing it the way you do, I feel as though I have had the pleasure of traveling there myself.” He paused, taking a fresh steady breathe inward as if all the fresh information took him far away from his present troubles, “The thought of seeing the rising sun there on a foggy morning...I wonder if I might have the chance to see it myself one day.” His regal tone lowered in uncertainty. His slender fingers covered in ash remained tightly gripped around an ornate silver dagger in this lap.

The man in question named Seiro, a Dotharl hunter, sat perched atop a long since abandoned wooden log, watching the skewered trout cooking atop of with a few helpful pointers from Seraphine who had witnessed his earlier struggle. His roughened hand covered in a layer of black bandages reached out to turn the skewer to the other side of the roasting fish with a proud grin set to his features, “Yes, beautiful as you say and worth the journey there. And you? You do not seem keen to speak of yourself.” Seiro’s peculiar gaze with one dark violet eye and the other outlined in a limbal ring of bright red lay unwaveringly as if searching.

Tearing his gaze away so suddenly, Seraphine fidgeted uncomfortably under the blanket like something agitated him far worse than the affliction he was still recovering from, “I must be honest and say that it would all be quite unpleasant to hear. Even now, I... I still cannot believe it. All this time...He had killed her...I forgot...How much did I forget?” His words turned into a soft babble mixed in with anxious breathing.

With a soft worried chuff, Seiro shifted upward on high alert to watch the smaller man to come to his aid if needed. His brows knitted together and a gleam of understanding in his depths tinged with an unspoken sorrow, “Life unravels differently for all. A weaving of sorrows and joys – It makes us all who we are at our core. You need not trouble yourself.” There was a natural deep rumbling to his voice that sought to calm his new companion.

Seraphine’s form had grown tense under the heavy blanket, the fingers of his free hand shaky when they went to grip one of the ruffled sleeves of his linen shirt appearing burnt along the edges. His bloody depths lowered with shame like something in him crumbled in the light of Seiro who peered without judgment, “Well...there is nothing to return to. Tis simple as that. I-I killed him...the man who I thought was my father. And something strange happened. It hurt too much, and I became angry; something came out of me...and I burned it all down. Everything. The whole manor is gone...” It all came out in a quick breath of rushed words and lowered voice like he was at confession, still unable to lift his eyes away from the bonfire between them.

“It might be true. I received a missive on my eighteenth Namesday about my true father that I ignored until now, you know...A monster or a devil. I may be like him.”

With a long steady gaze over Seraphine who spoke this in a pained whisper, Seiro took another leisurely swig from the bottle of ale he had dangling in one hand with the label far since faded from a constant barrage of different elements encountered during travel. He hummed thoughtfully, his curved shiny black horns gleaming with the gold of the trinkets that bedazzled them, “Say this is true? I argue the origins of birth do not deserve death. With those bruises, you only sought to survive, no? I would do no less in your place.” His low tone chimed out without hesitation, gesturing his hands out like he knew not what else he could have done.

The dark haired Ishgardian came up to absentmindedly touch at the pale length of his neck that bore outline of black and blue hand imprint with brows furrowed in confusion, “Do you really think so...? All this time, I wondered if something may be wrong with me. But I have spent so long trying to be someone else...to become a perfect partner in marriage. I cannot even be sure of who I really am. But all I know is that I never wish to return home.” The hand at his neck gestured out uselessly, uncertain where he was going with this.

Finally, he managed to lift his gaze back towards the general direction of the Loth ast Vath with a softness that hadn’t been there before, “The Vath were exceedingly kind to care for me in my time of need. I find comfort in hearing stories of their lives and culture. But I still fear I could prove a danger to those around me. Something awakened in me then... I cannot ignore it either.”

A warm grin spread across Seiro’s features when leaning forward that he came to grip his shoulder in a manner that was surprisingly gentle for one of his apparent strengths. Such was one that Seraphine didn’t attempt to flinch away from the brief touch before Seiro settled himself back with his long shining black tail swaying gently behind him, “Think of it this way – You are free to steer your life as you desire now. You do not have to remain as you are. You can become who you wish to be, mm? To journey where you please. There are none that you owe that now apart from yourself.” He reached to take ahold of the skewer now, offering a bite to Seraphine that he declined before he began to blow lightly to help cool the still steaming fish.

“I travel to the lands of Thanalan for a place called Ul’dah for my own purposes. You can come with me if you like. I have heard there is a guild known for their unusual techniques with funerary rites. The many tomes they hold there could help you find answers. This could give you time to think about what you really seek and forge a new path for yourself.” Seiro added in a deep lull of an ever-carefree tone, finally taking a bite into the piece of plain fish with a delighted hum of satisfaction while he chewed.

“Become who I wish…” All these words skillfully shocked Seraphine to the point of silence until then, his soot covered hand finally easing off the hilt of the dagger ever so to relax in his lap in front of him with slender fingers clasping together in thought. There was a long reluctance in him when he peered downward, “I suppose all I really want is to be...important to someone. And not as a possession to have. Not for a title, riches or looks.”

A soft sheepish laugh escapes him, finally looking up to the hunter with a sense of his strong composure coming back to him, “But, I have digressed long enough. Please accept my apologies for conveying all this to you so freely...It felt...troubling to hold back all this time. You have certainly given me much to think about. I shall give you an answer soon I assure you.”

[avampyone]

Prompt #4: The Wingman

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Haurchefant Greystone, Hemlocke

Synopsis: Even drunk off his arse, Hemlocke attempts to provide helpful advice to his friend.

Setting: Coerthas, Camp Dragonhead.

Warning for adult situations and suggestive themes.

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The clash of steel against steel rang out whenever the curved edge of a worn-down scythe hit against shield blow by blow in perfect succession. With a deep grunt leaving him, Seiro whirled the long rod of the scythe around like it weighed nothing at all, flinging himself into the air with his long black scaly tail waving behind him, leaving the soft chime of the trinkets that adorned such in its wake.

His eyes blazed with a heated excitement, grinning wildly, “Try to dodge this!” As surely as he sought to bring down the blade upon his opponent from the air, the shining sword lifted upward to meet him once against with the momentum flinging him back easily. He agilely landed on the ground of the command room with a heavy huff, causing the nearby tables and chairs to rattle as he did so, all due in part to the fall.

His chest rose and fell wildly to his breathes, chest straining against the thick black leather straps that bound him when he lifted his two-toned eyes to the man he’d been clashing with. After sheathing his sword, Haurchefant made no hesitation to come join him with a few steady claps of his hands and lovely blue eyes that shared the same excitement as he, “You never cease to amaze me, Seiro. Long have I wished to cross blades with you. Our styles as different as they are match perfectly with one another, no?” He was intent on holding the gaze, but Seiro’s own eventually broke away to the sight of Hemlocke sitting nearby at a table alone with a mug between in his slender hands.

The smirk on Hemlocke’s features was much like that of a cheshire cat and crimson eyes glittered mischievously when he stared at the pair of them. Seiro fought hard to keep a reticent expression, giving small incline of his head in gratitude towards Haurchefant even if he dares not to fully look his way, “It was an honor to do so. Your movements hold a graceful elegance I have not seen in many moons from another warrior.” With that, he spun on his heels to turn away back to join Hemlocke in the drinking festivities, but found a gloved hand grasping at his own to stop him, “Will you not join me in my chambers tonight? It can get very cold by oneself. I can make a cup of hot chocolate for the both of us.”

The sudden touch caught Seiro entirely off guard when he paused in his step in time to catch himself from stumbling. The Xaela could hardly register a thought for a few moments before he found himself bumbling a series of small nods, his rough hand curling to squeeze lightly, “Yes- the night is still young. Why not...before sleep, yes...? Right...I should go and check on my companions before this.” Every word spoken with a gruff awkward note before he let go, looking all but ready to rush back to the table before Haurchefant headed off looking positively satisfied.

With a heavy swallow back and looking much like he may be sick, Seiro took a heavy seat beside Hemlocke and skipped his mug entirely to go straight away to take a few long gulps back from a fresh bottle of ale nearest to him. The hunter’s tail twitched in agitation behind him. Meanwhile, Hemlocke took no time at all to nudge his friend meaningfully with an elbow and the smug smirk still plastered to his features, “Well, well~ I daresay there is going to be a lot more shared tonight than a cup of hot chocolate.”

“H-hey! Keep it down. I think- We head north tonight. Right now, even, we gather our companions and go north…”

Slender brows furrowing together, Hemlocke’s mouth parted in shock to hear Seiro’s sudden request to leave, “What?!...Are you really going to leave him there waiting without a word? Come now, there is no reason to be so nervous. Unless…are you a virgin?” The dark haired elezen gave him a once over in pure disbelief in this when Seiro looked aghast and like he might smack Hemlocke at any moment to the question. The liquid in the bottle of ale was disappearing at a steadily rapid pace, “No, of course not! It has been a long time though… And we are so vastly different from one another.” He kept his deep tone in a whisper, “Should I… walk in and tell him I wish to lie together?”

“Are you serious, Seiro? You need to, you know…build up the tension a little before you get to that. Look here, love~” Amidst his chuckles, Hemlocke’s words were a little slurred no doubt feeling the affects of the many drinks he had had. It did not stop him from bringing a hand to the buttons of his own shirt to undo one by one at the top and trace his fingertips along the length of his neck to the bare hint of his chest shown with a teasing slowness.

His ruby eyes grew half lidded gleaming at their depths with a mixture of pure heat and mischief, framed by thick black lashes with an enticing smile painted across his full lips, “’Oh my dear, Ser Haurchefant, let us skip the hot chocolate and jump right back into talk of our blades crossing again ~…’” His voice changed to a low and deep timbre of a rumble that eerily matched the hunter’s own. With a waggle to his brows, Hemlocke burst out into a fit of laughter after all the seriousness and began to slouch over on the table.

Thinking only of his current dilemma, Seiro blinked a little and peered down with his thick fingers feeling at his neck a little with a soft grunt of uneasiness, “…But I wear no shirt. How should I do this…? Do I move my hand like this?” His fingers curled in a bit to grip tightly at his own neck, giving off more of an appearance of choking himself while he rapidly batted his eyelashes at Hemlocke in his attempt to look appealing, “Hahahah! Well, admittedly, I have heard some are into that...you know what. Never mind you that. Let us focus on the basics. You should at least show off some of the goods~”

“Absolutely not!” As much as he weakly tried to swat his clumsy hands away, it didn’t keep Hemlocke from reaching over to adjust the tightly fitted straps a little to make the appearance of Seiro’s muscular pecs underneath to bulge a little more at the top, “Now, there you are. Run along and have a lovely night, my friend. Tis…very well deserved. I think I may…rest my head here just a moment…”

Leaning forward with his arms curling about the mug, Hemlocke laid his head down to rest and not moments later that he appeared all but lost to the grips of a deep sleep. Seiro made sure that he had a blanket nearby to drape before he hoisted himself up to his feet, attempting to grip at his own neck again, “Thank you, friend...so, like this? It seems easy enough...”

[avampyone]

Prompt #13: The Prime Suspect

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Arazul De'fleur, Yiazmat.

Synopsis: Seiro and Dr. Arazul join in on the hunt to find a kidnapped man, but only find agony, sorrow and annoyance at the end of it all.

Setting: Ridorana Lighthouse, The Clockwork City of Goug.

Warning - Blood

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Always keen to set off on another adventure, Seiro had signed up for the expedition to find a missing man rumored to be spirited away to an ancient, fabled city. It had been a great surprise to him that Dr. Arazul had been so insistent upon coming along with him.

Several months back, he had saved him from drowning in the Yaxian seas. But even then, the Xaela had not thought he would recover when he had remained so long in the state of a death like sleep for a few months more under the compassionate care of a farmer there.

Despite his initial objections, the doctor had proven to be a valuable ally here in knowing how different machinations of the lighthouse worked to clear the path ahead and math problems to solve. And although they succeeded in finding the beautiful city nestled above the clouds with the lazy turning of old windmills in the distance, horrors awaited them there.

Whispers among their companions about the Bangaa male in pursuit transforming into something called ‘Lucavi,’ seeing how the bright light consumed him to evolve into something else entirely. A bone dragon meshed haphazardly together with light- or it was all Seiro could make sense of it.

“What a terrible beast he has become… I have never seen anything of this likeness. We have no choice but to fight him.” Seiro murmured aloud to Dr Arazul standing in a perfect posture beside him, eyes covered with a thin white bandage with a thick grey hood that covered his features to purposely keep out the light.

Although he had been completely bereft of hair when he found him, fresh new growth curled shortly at the top now – pure white fading to tips of a light purple hue. He said nothing, only brandishing his great broadsword fashioned from an unusual polished black metal with runes to balance on his shoulder to prepare for the fight ahead. His brows set together as if determined. The doctor had not seemed too surprised at all – like this creature was something he had borne witness to before.

As the unnatural transformation had claimed him, so did too powers beyond Seiro had ever seen. Scythe gripped steadily in hand and long tail whipping back behind him when he sprinted ahead, poised to jump atop the massively reconfigured male to find a weak point to hit. Every attempt thus far had been like trying to carve through diamond. It was not much later that Seiro squirmed in midair in an attempt to hoist himself towards a left-over assembly of ruins nearby when he found himself swirling through the air.

The strength of such powers beyond him created those tornado-like winds until suddenly thrown off to the side like he was nothing in a heavy roll across the platform. A cloud of dust kicked up around him when a painful groan came from Seiro.

He slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, ignoring the bloodied scratches and gashes, reaching for his scythe – at his side, the doctor offered him a hand to stand up, “Blasted creature…All those new powers and all he can do is yell about it. The puppet master must not be all that impressive...” The doctor observed duly, with a light shrug to his shoulders.

Seiro huffed out about that, standing back up to his full height with a sway when he pressed his callused hands to his bared hips to give himself a breather. It was quite a sight to see the way all others scattered about when the odd ‘dragon’ stomped about the platform, “So says you. It will be many weeks before my scales grow back. I prefer the company of the dancing automaton. A pity we could not keep him.”

The hunter ignored three deep lines of claw marks left along the length of his tail, faintly bleeding, to whirl his scythe back and ran back headlong into the fray. Arazul thrust the sharp point of his blade into the earth, letting a blast of pure darkness released unto a dome around him that created a thick miasma- one that sought to pull this creature in.

“Like a knife through butte-r!”

[avampyone]

Prompt #12: Promise

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Emet Selch

Synopsis: Caught up in an unfamiliar land, Seiro contends with temptation beyond reasoning.

Setting: Lakeland, Crystarium.

Warning - Adult situations, some NSFW.

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Dark skies returned to the Crystarium, and all praised the warrior of darkness for such a feat. The horrors that the light had wrought, wars, ascians, shards, visions – Seiro was but a simple hunter that sought out adventure in lands unknown. A part of him wished for simpler times, thinking of the Azim Steppe and the faces of his family left behind. This was a place not even his companion Xil had been able to travel to, unable to benefit from his guidance.

He found himself in need of advice more than ever with this new quarry – One with such a charming smile and lovely golden eyes that possessed a touch of sadness to them. Seiro had been attracted to many men over the years, weak as he was to their smiles and pleasures of the flesh – This went deeper in a way that was maddeningly frustrating.

A plethora of trees outlined the courtyard of the Rotunda in the Crystarium that Seiro had already become quite acquainted with. He sat now, long tail curled off to the side atop tree stump with a set of tools laid out neatly in a dark cloth alongside him. One by one he sought to lose himself in this – it was a process of filing, hammering, and grinding the blade back to keen sharpness.

He was shirtless and unashamed of baring his muscular form with tight leather trousers worn low on his hips. Black scales shined in the moonlight and his lavender flesh showing off the scars and even burns of many battles fought, long straight auburn and amethyst locks trailing down his back.

The xaela did not think anyone would see him there nor think to find him there, but there was one who did, “…It bodes you ill to stare at one who means to kill you. After this cooperation ends, I will hunt you down.” He murmured, carefully bereft of emotion. He had not lifted his head from his current task.

“Oh, will you now? But why wait..? Are you not keen to seek violence? As is the universal constant among these fragments I find.” Emet-Selch strolled out of the shadows at such an unhurried pace slowly but surely towards Seiro’s spot among the green until he cast his great shadow over him – such that sought to swallow him from the light of the moon above.

The shadow brought forth a hazy vision to Seiro’s mind eye in a quick succession of images. An elaborate marble ballroom decorated with lavish effects as such he had never seen before. The swirling of dancers in their fine robes of black and white. He was new there and felt out of place. The shadow of a handsome man standing before him offering his hand out – asking to dance.

“…You remind me of him though. Hard and soft all at the same time, so stubborn. A paradise as it was – He never turned a blind eye to suffering as others did.” Emet Selch’s voice held a purr that he had saved for him to hear alone, inspiring a betraying heat in the pit of his stomach. A jarring ring let out when Seiro firmly pressed the surface of the grindstone to the sharp edge of his scythe harder than he intended, “You…have me confused with someone else…”

Emet-Selch said nothing as he stepped forward until he was but a few Ilms away. The ascian’s gloved hand sought to pull aside the curtain of the hunter’s long silky tresses in an affectionate caress over one shoulder, fingertips tracing along ever so slowly over the hardened scales.

The dense scales peered even more sensitive than his bared flesh from the way he trembled, “But I confess. Sometimes in sleep, I see a place I have never traveled to in the whole of my life. A dazzling city. Beautiful marble..Everyone is dancing...” Seiro’s deep quiet voice whispered distantly.

“How do you know of that place?! Are you not just one of them? Do you remember the promise that we made..?” Emet Selch’s thick brows drew together in sincere confusion about to lift his gloved hand away, but so suddenly the grinding stone and scythe dropped from Seiro’s rough hands to coax that arm to embrace him.

An unspoken loneliness existed in the xaela that longed for a connection he could never quite grasp- it remained his companion at home, with his family, during his travels, with his dear comrades.

There was no escape, but even a fraction of that eased in the closeness of the ascian – even if he wished not to admit it, “It does not matter who I am, does it? I have felt your burning eyes since my arrival here, so please..” His broad chest rose and fell with breaths of heightened arousal with a generous bulge already straining the tight confines between his legs. Seiro’s head tilted back against Emet Selch’s chest with two toned eyes distant as if immersed in a dream.

Emet Selch’s pearly white teeth bit onto his full lower lip at the sight, letting the glove slip off his hand in a gentle whisper along his flesh. That bare hand trailed now down the middle of the long length of Seiro’s abdomen, dipping into the hard grooves he found there. Further still, he deftly freed the button at the front of leather pants and slowly zipped down. A desperate chuff left Seiro to feel the ascian’s beguiling voice reverberate against his horn, “After such a long hunt, I have found you at last..”

[avampyone]

Prompt 11: Never forgotten

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Hemlocke, mentions of Pierre Beaufort and Olivia Desmarais.

Synopsis: Seiro tries to speak with a withdrawn and temperamental Hemlocke.

Setting: Mor Dhona, Rising Stones.

Warning - Grief, mentions of parental death and crime.

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After waving off his comrades who disbursed into the town above with chatter of the daily tasks they meant to take care of that day, Seiro himself remained seated comfortably on his bar stool alongside the non-descript bar before him with no one presently to serve. It was unnecessary. He reached over to grab a full bottle of ale to relax in the quiet of the evening with only the rhythmic sound of the clock ticking off in the distance. Although, he knew he was not alone.

In the open space, he found Hemlocke quietly seated off by himself as he had been for some time. He stared off to the side to something hidden from view under the drape of a thick white cloth. From the shape, it was likely to be a pianoforte. The ornate silver dagger lay sheathed on the table in front of him, beginning to look increasingly worn from the first time they met. Yet, Seiro personally had never seen him use it in their adventures. He had stormed off from their party earlier on when they questioned him for his snappy and temperamental behavior – Quite unlike him.

The hunter waited there, letting the quiet linger on, to remain if anything was needed if nothing else. Suddenly, Hemlocke’s hand careful of his clawlike nails wrapped about the dagger when he stood up with near enough force to knock back the chair with features cast down and appearing intent to quietly make his way out with quick strides much like a restless cat seeking to roam.

“Sometimes running away is the right choice, but not always.” Like the sudden burst of flame giving light to a short fuse, Hemlocke all but turned on him. His slender brows furrowed in a fit of anger, but oddly there was nothing more than a menacing smirk to his features like trying and futilely failing to keep the appearance of a gentleman.

A gentleman competing with the ticking of a bomb, “And so, what If I want to?! Come off your damned high horse already...I see how it is.. You will start telling me what to do? You wish to act like you own me now?!” A deep fury lit up in Hemlocke’s gaze when he spouted off so suddenly. Seiro’s two toned gaze watching him calmly with a gentle sway of his tail behind him with an elbow easing onto the bar in front of him. He knew the mage well – knew well that none of these angry words were meant for him.

“Do you feel better, my friend?” With his hands clenched so tight around the dagger, those slender digits slowly eased to some degree with a heavy breathe of air escaping him and lowering his partially covered features in shame, “I-I am sorry – “The softly spoken apology came out between another labored breathe. The au ra did nothing more than scoot up a little to reach for the nearest bottle of gin to bring out, tear off the cap and pour heavily into an empty glass to place on the bar. He gestured to the spot beside him – yet, not in any demand if he still wished to leave.

A few long moments passed before Hemlocke eventually came with much hesitation to settle in that spot even if he still gave off a distrustful aura of cat that might reach out to claw any who approached having lived in the wilds for far too long. His shaky hand reached out to wrap around the glass even if he made no motion to drink it.

“Do you wish to speak of it...?”

There was a general heaviness to Hemlocke’s demeanor that he found it hard to lift his gaze, nor would be meet Seiro’s own, “…It is my mum’s nameday today. The man whom I learned later was my surrogate father was never present for hers ever. She never asked for much…Only ever asked that I play for her while my mentor, Pierre, sang…”

With a careful breathe, Seiro took another deep swig from his bottle of ale all the while with a tap of his callused fingers along the bar as if affording himself a moment to think, “But, she has…passed onto the next life?” There was a heat that he could feel emanating from Hemlocke as if spurred by the weight of memories he typically was not one to divulge.

Hemlocke’s hand clenched and unclenched about the filled glass of gin not so unlike how he did the dagger in troubled times while he shook his head adamantly, “She has not passed on. It…the circumstances…” Even if he remembered why now, there were blanks when he felt naught more than the wispy ghost of a child wandering the manor during that period. Pierre’s heated insistence for Olivia’s death to be investigated further. The sudden disappearance of the body. An empty coffin buried.

“An unnatural death then...” Seiro deduced, lifted his free hand to fetch the hat atop his head to lower to the bar top careful not to snag them on the curved horns near his features. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully – like he had an idea, but he didn’t speak of it.

Even if he knew in his heart of hearts, Hemlocke had trouble accepting this fact. He stared down in the appearance of wide shock, a glassy look to his red eyes, but no tears ever came, “It was…easier to pretend. I left small mementos around the manor – the items she carried. That way – it was like she could walk in through those doors anytime. Like it never happened…”

Hemlocke’s lifeless words trailed off and shook his head with a firm close to his eyes like to seal it away again. He didn’t wish to see anymore. With his toned arm lifting to gently brace about the mage and a light squeeze to his shoulder, Seiro’s warm reassuring smile emerged, “Do not push yourself so hard. If you need time, be honest with us. And yourself. In time, it will be easier little by little...” The deep melancholic rumble lay steeped in all too much understanding of grief and loss – that everyone processed this differently.

[avampyone]

My FFXIV OC blog ☠️

Feel free to call me Pharos. Chill, non-binary (any pronouns), pan goth with a love for vampires, RPGs and horror games! I may reblog content from other fandoms I adore.

I go between content and occasionally rping or visiting RP venues in game - venue recs welcome! I'll be posting primarily gpose (mostly Hemlocke) on here but will include gpose/story snippets and writing when I have the time and energy to do so.

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Hemlocke:

Former Ishgardian noble who’s come to Eorzea searching for a specific black mage cult. A workaholic - Hemlocke is usually busy with bartending or working off his debt to the Thaumaturge guild. Confident and reckless, you’ll rarely find him without a smirk on his face no matter what situation he's facing. A mysterious elezen who's easy to talk with but difficult to truly know. Unfortunately, his supernatural constitution affects his ability to wield magic effectively, and he's likely one of the worst cooks you'll ever met. Hemlocke has a pet bat named Bruce.

https://hemlockevamp.carrd.co/

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A relationship chart and alt OC Info below the cut:

An OC + important figures relationship chart:

Dr Arazul De'Fleur:

A renowned doctor born of the De’Fleur family of Old Sharlayan - quiet, enigmatic and calculating. Like his father, he excels in medical practice and alchemy. A run in with the Garlean empire and surviving Black Rose changes the course of his life forever. He awakes with an odd mark over his eye, silver hair and lips stained with a purple hue proving remnants of the poison lingers, unbalancing his aether. Worst of all, he develops a ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality’. Will he ever find a way to cure himself completely?

Seiro Malkavi:

A WoL and a skilled hunter of the Dotharl clan from the Azim Steppe. His stoic demeanor hides a softer interior, unable to ignore a cry for help. He's honest, straightforward and generally warms up to others quickly. After a tragic incident involving a friend of the Mol clan and in disagreements about war, Seiro leaves his homeland to become an adventurer. The lust for battle and desire for stronger opponents consume all sense from him, and he finds the thrill of the fight in hunting monsters.

Cerys La'Sorciere:

An eccentric sorceress from the Churning Mists who wields a powerful command over the elements and plant life. She has a knowledge of herbal remedies and potions. Merciless to her enemies and seen as a trickster to many – At her core, Cerys carries an ancient secret that none would believe. Unwelcomed in Ishgard, she is the last of the long line of the La’sorciere family whom have made the mists their home for many decades. She allies herself with the Moogle tribe, dragons and the RedBills.

Amaranth Vyce:

A Dhampir priest in training from Ishgard. Trained from his youth at the orphanage, Amaranth primarily fights against the packs of the feral undead and aids Hemlocke when he can. He seems cold, vicious and detached, but he truly doesn't want to harm anyone unless he has to. One of his strengths is the strong connection to spirits and ability to see/talk to them. As a dhampir, he naturally struggles with less than priestly thoughts and hopes fervent prayer to the fury will overcome this.

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Alts profile carrd below:

https://pharosgremlins.carrd.co/#

FFXIV NPCs:

Carvallain De Gorgagne, considering Deryk.

[avampyone]

I need more screenshots of him, but a few my Xaela Seiro. He's partly inspired by an old OC, Geralt and Drax. Born of a Dotharl mother and Malkavi father (The Malkavi was a small shamanic tribe who could commune easily with spirits. Only his father survived out of them all.) He's the youngest of seven siblings with two fathers and one mother. Although he hates war, he finds the thrill of the fight in monster hunting and adventuring.