#set during the start of endwalker

[littledrawsandwritesstuff]

Next Sickfic is up and to no one's surprise, it is Final Fantasy XIV. OC-centric, handles sea sickness, so expect some vomiting. That was the prompt Dizziness/Vertigo from @sicktember

[siderealcity]

More Dawntrail narrative thoughts, this time about the Golden City. Spoilers below.

There are several layers to the Golden City as a plot device in Dawntrail, and I think they're interesting enough to just unpack them all and look at them.

The first time we hear the term, it's from Hades in Endwalker:

"Tell me, have you been to the ruins beneath the waters of the Bounty? Or the treasure islands beyond the frozen waters of Blindfrost, in Othard's north? The fabled golden cities of the New World? The sacred sites of the forgotten people of the south sea isles?"

It's telling that he groups that with the sacred sites of the south sea isles. The plot later tells us that they are explicitly connected to one another, but why does it call them "citiies," plural? Where's the other one, Hades?

(Also, we haven't yet been to the treasure islands in the north, but every one of those locations in the quote above has to do with cross-rift travel. Every. One. So, that may be something we see again later.)

But apart from their lore and plot significance (and potential foreshadowing), the Golden City is, from the first time we hear of it, a lure. Bait, dangled before an explorer, enticing them to go onward. It is, for lack of a better word, a promise of things to come. In the specific case in Endwalker, it's a promise that your story isn't over yet, there's still more to come. Even though you are, at that moment, standing in front of the amassed dead of countless worlds. Death is not the end, it's the beginning of new life.

The second time we hear the term, it's from Wuk Lamat. Who is, again, using it to entice us to join her. We don't know at that point that her actual title is, in fact, Promise. And that is significant.

It is, likewise, the bait for Krile's involvement in the story. The thing she knew her grandfather had been asked to study, the secret he'd kept out of the records of the Students, the promise of a connection. To the past, to someone she loved who is now gone.

But then there's the Rite of Succession. And it changes the meaning of the plot device entirely.

The Rite is structured to follow the Tulliyolal saga--the journey Gulool Ja Ja undertook, over the course of who knows how many years, to unify the peoples of Tural into a single nation. A journey which notably has nothing to do with the Golden City. To the Turali, it's a fairy tale. It is so detached from the story of Gulool Ja Ja that Koana immediately has to ask if the city being the final goal means his father actually has some proof it exists.

The Rite itself, as Gulool Ja Ja later admits to us, is meant to be instructional for his children. They are not meant to simply find and cross the finish line, they're supposed to be learning how to be the rulers of Tural.

As we complete feats in the rite, we are awarded stories of the Golden City by each of the races in Yok Tural. And they all follow a significant pattern: The Golden City was the literal dream of the Yok Huy. The conquerers of every single people in southern Tural. The stories we are given are the stories shared by colonized people of their oppressors.

The conquest of Yok Tural is mentioned repeatedly. Every group we meet was displaced and enslaved by the giants during their empire, and the ultimate goal of that empire was to find the Golden City--a paradise of eternal life without pain or suffering. It is at this point that the Golden City becomes a warning. It is the promise of self-destruction. Searching for it ultimately toppled the Yok Huy empire and changed the giants forever. It displaced and disrupted numerous cultures and started centuries of war.

It is, ultimately, the reason why Gulool Ja Ja ever had to play the role of peacemaker and unifier in the first place. The divide-and-conquer tactics employed by the Yok Huy created every problem he set out to solve.

Why did he choose to make it the final goal of the Rite of Succession? A place he famously did not find before becoming Dawnservant? Was it, perhaps, as a lesson to his children, his Promises? Especially his son Zoraal Ja who had dreams of empire?

But interestingly, the Golden City was also set forth as the specific goal for Erenville to find by his mother. Cahciua wasn't present in the flashbacks to Galuf and Gulool Ja Ja and Kettenram viewing the gate, but we know that she met them afterward, and had Erenville with her. Was she with them the first time they'd found the gate? I have to think she was. The only people who seem to have known for sure about it, among Gulool Ja Ja's circle of friends and allies, were the explorers. The ones who would have been interested in searching for it purely for the joy of discovery.

I think it's safe to say that for Cahciua, at least at the time that she gives her son his quest, the Golden City is the Almost Impossible Dream. One that can, in fact, be found, but crucially, not alone. The Yok Huy, who searched for it for generations, and crushed everyone around them trying to get inside, had it in their possession all along. But they never even saw the gate. It took Gulool Ja Ja, who had friends to help him, who actually discovered the way in. It is the promise of discovery through love and fellowship, for her only son who was withdrawn and antisocial.

And then we actually find it.

It is not an accident that the way to reach the Golden City is through a cenotaph of lost hope. We literally pass through waters littered with the bodies of children who were never born--promises never fulfilled--to get to its gate.

And it's eating the Yok Huy ruin. The electrope spreads out from the gate like an infection, over-writing the Yok Huy stonework, erasing their culture.

And it's still... oddly beautiful? But in the way a poisonous mushroom is beautiful.

And it's closed. We don't go through it at this point, though we walk right up to the seal on the doorway. Because we're alive.

We're told by Erenville that many people have sought the Golden City, never to return. And of course they didn't.

Because this is the gateway to death.

Zoraal Ja is the first person we actually see go through it. The False Promise. Just to reinforce that this is, in fact, Zoraal Ja's role, Sareel Ja leads him to the gate and hands him the key with a speech that is wholly constructed of the same false platitudes about Zoraal Ja's magical birthright that have driven Zoraal Ja to be this self-destructive and miserable in the first place. And we can see how much the speech upsets Zoraal Ja, who just lost the contest to both his siblings. He knows every word of his inherent greatness and destiny is a lie. Sareel Ja hands him the key, and he grips it like it might be a bludgeon without even looking at it. And the second time Sareel Ja makes a "Resilient Son" speech, Zoraal Ja literally stabs him in the back.

Having skipped all the lessons and warnings about the danger of pursuing death and destruction, Zoraal Ja walks through its front door.

And I don't think it's accidental that the dome appears in Xak Tural, even though the gate itself is located in Yak T'el, far to the south. Xak Tural is the land that defeated the Yok Huy advance without a single battle. The unconquerable land. This is the part of Tulliyolal that Gulool Ja Ja didn't have to fix because it was never broken in the first place. They very notably do not live in the segregated societies the people of the south do, because nobody imposed that on them. The towns we see are a mix of races living together, and probably served as the inspiration for Gulool Ja Ja to build Tulliyolal in the first place, differing people pursuing communal and sometimes conflicting interests together. These are the people Zoraal Ja has been rambling about nonsensically, "teaching the value of peace by the misery of war." The ones who don't need Tulliyolal, but merely want to be part of it.

He can make his mark here because his father never did.

When the dome appears over Yyasulani, we, the players, know it's Zoraal Ja's passage through the gate that caused it, but the characters don't learn this until after he's brutally slaughtered people. We players see the sequence of events as: Zoraal Ja, the Promise of Death, walks into the land of death and carries it out with him. But the characters are instead following the trail of death back to the land of the dead. We don't enter Alexandria through the Golden City. Not at first. We enter it through a swathe of destruction and desolation and a storm that never ends. That's our first view of it. The promise of ruin. We do not see the paradise that led the Yok Huy to their doom until after we know that Sphene, like the Yok Huy, is willing to lay waste to the lives around her to have her Golden City.

And then we have the vision.

I don't think it's an accident that the only people who have ever seen anything come out of the gate to the Golden City are the Warrior of Light, Gulool Ja Ja, Kettenram, Galuf, and indirectly Cahciua. All characters who inherently understand that life comes from death and the balance between them is vital. And it's symbolically significant that it's a child who is delivered from the land of the dead. Her parents don't come with her. The dead don't get to return, we get new life instead.

And then we go there. And it looks like Amaurot.

We call it Living Memory, but the resemblance to Amaurot, and the knowledge of what's actually here means that we immediately understand the lie. The Golden City, the cloud, the twelfth level of Everkeep, all of it has always been a false promise. Zoraal Ja, the False Promise, walked into the land of False Promises and became its king.

And Sphene, the Queen of False Promises, has always had the impossible task of keeping the dead alive.

As we make our way through Living Memory, it's notable that what we actually do is remove the beautiful, golden veneer from the land of the dead. The city is still there when we're done with it. We walk back outside through its gate. We do not have the power to remove death any more than we could destroy despair. But we take the lie out of it, we free the stolen life force to become life again. It's now just dead. No more promises of paradise or ruin to fulfill.

[castellankurze]

ok but for real FF14 fans we gotta talk about the next 20 years in Eorzea cause it's gonna be wild

*There's gonna be some general Shadowbringers & Endwalker spoilers in this post.*

I'm making this now because something in 6.5 reminded me of this idea - no spoilers for 6.5 in particular though.

------------------------------------

So first, quick refresher: the FF14 setting has a pretty standard for the genre afterlife wherein souls of the dead merge with the planet's lifestream, they beat about for awhile, maybe ruminate on their past life, and then they can either merge with the greater whole or be reborn as new people. This got outlined all the way back in the 2.x patch series and became a major part of the plot for the Shadowbringers expansion, wherein the Warrior of Light is revealed to be a reincarnation of the ancient soul of Azem, or how the character Gaia is also a reincarnation of one of the Ascians.

Also a major part of the Shadowbringers plot are the revelations about the secret history of the world. How in forgotten ancient times, civilization threatened by a calamity called the Final Days offered up hundreds or possibly thousands of souls to create the god that would be known as Zodiark who would preserve the world, and how in time the goddess Hydaelyn would be created as an opposition to Zodiark's power. And that she ultimately sundered him into 14 pieces - and because Zodiark's nature was fundamentally tied into the essence of the world, when he was broken so too was the very planet and every living soul upon it, divided into the singular 'Source' and thirteen 'shards.' As part of Shadowbringers' plot, the character of Ardbert is revealed to be the First-shard part of the soul of the Warrior of Light, reuniting near the end of 5.0, and to villain Emet-Selch, these sundered souls are a pitiful shadow of the powerful, vibrant beings they once were in ancient times, unworthy of life.

Now here's where things get interesting.

During the course of our Endwalker adventures, we reach the lunar prison where the body of Zodiark is held captive. Due to some villainous machinations, the ancient god's bonds have been partially broken and his essence is leaking out, taking the form of ancient shades wandering about. One in particular we speak to is named Hythlodaeus. We had previously met this character - sort of, in the form of a memory conjured by Emet-Selch. This is the true Hythlodaeus, an ancient soul sacrificed to bring Zodiark into being. Despite joining the multitude of souls and the long slumber in imprisonment, he's coherent and holds a conversation.

Unsurprisingly, as the main character of a Final Fantasy title we go on to kill our setting's oldest god, and in so doing get a good look at the effect of the sundering on Zodiark: namely that in his case it was pretty literal, splitting off pieces of his body. However the interesting part of the Endwalker's implications is that while Zodiark was sundered, the individual souls that made up his being were not - after this confrontation we see and speak to our old new friend Hythlodaeus again, and again, both in a journey to the distant past and as we call up his soul for aid at the climax of the story...and he's the same person every time.

This...strongly hints that the myriad of ancient, unsundered souls which made up the bulk of Zodiark's essence have returned to the lifestream, and while major characters like Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch and Venat seem content to leave the cycle of reincarnation for good and pass the world on to us modern folk...is that going to be true for everyone?

Are there, in fact, dozens - hundreds - thousands of Ancient, unsundered souls milling about in the aetherial sea, contemplating a return to the living world? Will the world of Etheirys over the next few years see a sudden wave of children with incredible power as these souls start to be reborn? Will the Warrior of Light, a soul merely eight times rejoined, be eclipsed in sheer strength by the might of a new generation?

The story will probably never go to such a place - after all it would essentially undo the themes of its two biggest expansions, and besides which, the story of FF14 as a whole will probably not venture so many years down the timeline to explore such a possibility.

But still. They say everything old is someday new again.

[aotopmha]

Being too exhausted to play has made me think about the Dawntrail story again.

I wanted to take a break, but it occupies my brain too much, turns out and I engaged with takes on the internet again.

(Some of it is really dumb and a negativity void with zero substance, which is, in fact, unfun and exhausting, as it is designed to be, so it probably is better to not engage with, but I also do very much enjoy discussing what I love and it offers fantastic springboards for that.)

Spoilers for the Dawntrail story!

You know the complaint that it's "not as good as Shadowbringers or Endwalker"?

Well, I think a lot of people have actually echoed this, but I really like that Dawntrail is not trying to one-up them.

It's really good that it's not only pulling back the scale, but also lightening up the tone.

In particular, there was a complaint I saw that said HW, ShB and EW were these "deep and dark" stories and had issues with DT not being that kind of narrative and I think a story being Endwalker all of the time would become boring in its own right.

If all you see is positivity, eventually it means nothing, but this is also true in the opposite sense.

If all you see is misery all of the time, at one point, it doesn't mean anything anymore.

Eventhough I myself mostly enjoyed it, I can see the argument that it went too far in the other direction and handled some ideas too simplistically, but I think the general idea to do this is a really good, refreshing move.

It's similar thematically (which is actually my biggest issue), but I really like that it mostly focused on new stories with new characters.

I also like that the Scions are taking a backseat.

I saw an opinion that "you can't have your cake and eat it, too" in regards of the Scions being minor roles and you should either write them out completely or entirely focus the story on them, but personally I don't see any issue with this.

They were set up to be support and behaved as such. I don't understand the take that they were "teased" too much when the setup was that it was not their story to begin with.

Now, I do think the friendly rivalry aspect was underutilised. I feel like getting to fight Thancred and Urianger in good fun would've been great, for example.

I love the vibe of adventure we haven't really had for such a long time, and I really think the mystery of the City of Gold might be one of the best ones in the entire narrative because many of the mysteries so far at least have some aspect of retconning to them.

The gate and everything with it is entirely new and didn't need any retconning to fit within the current concepts of the story, whereas you could always tell they had to slightly tweak everything with the Ascians once in a while.

I think the fact that most of the characters that people do like from this expansion are entirely new or characters we knew fairly little about before Dawntrail says it all.

People actually do want new stuff. I think the mostly positive response towards the actual gameplay content says this, too.

So I hope they don't give up on what they've built here despite some of the really loud negative voices.

Don't start trying to do Endwalker or Shadowbringers again before building a new bigger picture.

We've talked about legacy and memory and loss a bunch of times already; evolve from this and do something *entirely* new with new characters and ALSO entirely new theming.

Don't give up on making content just a little more engaging.

That's my worry in light of these very loud complaints.

And the thing is, during the Endwalker patch cycle and even before, these are things so many people wanted.

People wanted a break from the Scions. People wanted the story to reset and relax after Endwalker because it had been within that dark tone for so long.

People wanted us to go back to being an adventurer.

People were tired of the increasingly same-y encounter design (and lack of stuff to do during patch downtime, which you can also see improved in terms of certain rewards; thing is what I've seen is people loving the new content so much they just like playing it and I feel the same way, so it isn't always even more grinds or rewards people actually want).

And that's exactly what they gave us.

Again, I don't know the overlap between audience groups here, but in terms of sentiment, that's the craziest part to me.

They kind of gave us exactly what we asked for.

And I really hope they stick to their guns and get braver from here because new is fun and even if it doesn't always succeed, you can look at what people like and don't like and go from there in a more nuanced way, rather than leaning on overcorrective decisions as they have in terms of certain aspects of the game. It just stops the game from stagnating and getting boring in all aspects.

[myreia]

Desiderium

CHAPTER THREE: HAUNT

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Thancred Waters Pairings: Aureia/Thancred Chapter Words: 2,682 Notes: Set during early Endwalker, spoilers for the start of the expac. Summary: After arriving in Old Sharlayan, Aureia wants to see Thancred’s old haunts. He could not be happier to oblige, but his thoughts are occupied by something else entirely. Prompt: ii. hands | blush Chapters: one • two • three • four • five Read on AO3

Thancred picks up the pace as he heads up a steep incline. The Baldesion Annex rises at the top, its elegant windows alight with a golden glow. If the others have returned, there’s no sign—its doors are silent, no residents entering or exiting. For a moment she thinks he’s headed for the Annex itself, but then he turns sharply to the left and walks right past it.

“Where are we going?” she asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingertips brush her earrings; the constellation of silver rings in her upper ears are cold, a raw sting against her flesh. She hates removing her piercings, but she should do it before she regrets it.

He glances over his shoulder, eyes alight with mischief, his hand still in hers. “To say would ruin the surprise, fair lady,” he says, pulling her down a narrow path between buildings.

“Don’t ‘fair lady’ me, we’re married.”

“All the more reason to, no?”

“You know I don’t like pet names.”

“As you say, Aur.”

“That’s a nickname.”

“I’m certain that though it is lost on me, the difference is, indeed, significant.”

“If you keep teasing me like this I will turn around and go right back to the Annex and leave you on your own to—”

Aureia whoops in surprise, a short, sharp gasp escaping her as he suddenly shoves her off the path and into an alcove. He gives her no time to breathe, no time to take stock of their surroundings—his mouth is on hers and up is down and down is up, and she is lost in the swift spontaneity of it all. She clings to him, her hands tangled in his hair, her back sliding against smooth marble as he pushes her against the wall. He kisses her—hot and open and careless in his rush, easily encouraging her to part her lips for him.

Mirth bubbles in the back of her throat and she trembles, laughing as she kisses him back. He grunts, seeking more—demanding more—his body pressed to hers, a hand at her waist, the other gripping the fabric of her shirt. He tugs the hem free from her trousers.

Her heart pounds. He has no qualms here in the dim light of this out-of-the-way nook, this moment of passion slipped easily between two buildings like a bookmark between the pages. Her thoughts wander distractedly, floating away even as he kisses her again, fervent and urgent, his overwhelming need for her breaking free. Long days of even longer study must lead to finding creative ways of unwinding. She can imagine more than a few lustful and dissatisfied Studium students sneaking off to alcoves like this one.

Did he once, in his youth? A self-proclaimed bard, a rogue, hopelessly pursuing anyone who caught his eye with half-baked song and poetry. Some would have fallen for the act. He has his charms, after all. And his desires.  

Her hand slips from his hair and falls to the side, palm against the wall, her fingers brushing the ivy. “Thancred,” she murmurs.

He draws back, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers.

“Please tell me your haunt of choice has a little more character than the four fulms between two walls?”

Thancred shakes with laughter, grimacing as he tries to hold it back, and rests his forehead against hers. “The things you think of sometimes, Aureia, I swear…”

The enchantment in his voice makes her heart sing.

“Well?” she replies, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckles and takes her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “A little to your left and up. See if you can find it.”

She frowns. Her fingers comb through the ivy, seeking, searching—and then finally slide across the fine grooves that demarcate a door or opening of some kind. She cocks her head, perplexed, and he flashes her a grin. Reaching over, he pulls ivy out of the way and rams his hand against the wall. Stone scrapes against stone and the wall rotates inwards, revealing a passage beyond.

Aureia shoots him a sideways look.

“You wanted to open that while you were kissing me, didn’t you?”

“Me? Such a thought would never occur to me.”

“Overdramatic fool.”

Thancred laughs. Brushing hair from his forehead, he nods to the passage behind her and gestures for her to go ahead. Planting a swift kiss on his cheek, she turns her back on him and slips inside, eyes wide and heart alight with curiosity.

To her surprise there is nothing in the passage—a few old boxes, tucked away in a corner and forgotten years ago, a hefty wood ladder with broken rungs, worn-out tables and chairs stacked together. Her best guess is that they are rejects from the Studium, furniture that has seen more than their fair share of students and have since been retired to rot. She finds a flight of stairs a few paces from the threshold, spiralling upwards at a steep angle. A service staircase of some kind, judging from how tight it is. They must be in one of those spires that sprout off the sides of some Sharlayan buildings. She noted a number of them when their ship pulled into the harbour this morning; now she’s going to find out what is at the top.

She sets foot on the bottom step and begins the climb. The light is soft and dim, spilling in through the large greenish-blue windows that line the stairwell. The aura tinges the worn marble steps—typical for Sharlayan buildings, yet she finds it reminiscent of the northern lights. Her heart quickens with each step, following it round and round, passing arched windows as she ascends. It isn’t long before her calves are aching, her breath comes in pants, and sweat drips down the back of her neck.

“What is this place?” Aureia asks, her voice echoing strangely in the tight yet empty space.

“Nothing of import,” Thancred replies. “At least to Sharlayans. A place to eat and study and write reports—and to catch a wink or two if time allows. There are plenty more of those nap rooms G’raha is so fond on the first and second floors.”

“Is that where we’re headed? For a nap room?”

“Heavens, no. Do you doubt my taste in haunts so much?”

“For you, now? Never.” She draws abruptly to a stop and glances over her shoulder at him. “For you in the past? Hm. Well. That’s quite a different question altogether, don’t you think?”

He sighs wearily. “You never get tired of this, do you?”

She flashes him a grin and spins around, ignoring the ache in her legs as she takes the steps two at a time. A moment or two later, she reaches the top of the stairs and bursts through the threshold. She slows to a stop, mouth open in wonder, and surveys the little chamber.

Hazy coloured light streams in through the windows on all four walls, dancing lazily across the marble floor. It has been some time since anyone has been up here, judging from the dust. What few furniture pieces have been collected here are covered in large swathes of protective white cloth. A bookcase stands in a corner, its tomes worn and their spines broken, the titles faded with age. Some do not even have titles, as far as she can tell; they may very well be journals. Ivy creeps in through the cracks in the stonework, spreading across the inner walls like cobwebs and dangling from the ceiling. How it survives here—or why no one has cleaned it up—she will never know. 

“It has been many a year since I’ve been here,” Thancred calls as he reaches the threshold. “And here I thought it may have changed. Perhaps I should consider myself a fool for thinking so.”

She passes through the chamber, the heels of her boots echoing against the floor. Click. Clack. Click. For a room so small, the sound is so vast. “Did you come here often?” she asks.

“Aye. I did say it was one of my haunts, did I not?”

“What did you come here for?”

“To think, to sleep.” He exhales a long sigh and takes up position in a corner, where the windowed walls meet a slim line of marble. He crosses his arms. “Perchance to dream, even. In reality, Aureia, this was an escape. From my master, from my mentor, from Fourchenault, from the stressors imposed upon a street urchin who had known nothing better. From the sights and sounds of the city. A place where I could take vigil on my own terms.”   

She nods and casts and eye out of the nearest window, peering through the green-blue and gold glass to observe the city below. With all four walls windowed in like this, there is an excellent view of all the major landmarks—the Studium from one side, the Rostra from another, the Noumenon and Scholar’s Harbour. She can’t help but notice that the furniture has been shoved aside in such a way that Thaliak’s statue is easily visible—and to the churning waters of the sea beyond it.

A reminder, perhaps. Of the meaning behind the surname Louisoix gifted him.

Her heart pangs. Despite this tower’s central location and its view of the city, she’s struck by how lonely it is. To be surrounded by so many people, and yet…

Aureia loops a long lock of loose hair behind her ear and runs her fingers over a white sheet. A chair beneath squeaks, its legs unstable. She frowns, shrugging out of her jacket, and throws it over the back. “Did others ever come here with you?”

The question is pointed, the double-meaning clear. She doesn’t know why she asked it—curiosity, perhaps, about who he was in his youth.

He makes a face. “I… why do you want to know about that? Must we go through my whole sordid history?”

“You know I don’t think about it that way.”

“Then you are a rare specimen in that regard.”

“I don’t ask because I’m jealous. I ask because I know so little of your time in Sharlayan. You never speak of it, but it is as much a part of you as anything else. You don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to put up some pretense that I’m the only person who ever mattered in your life.”

He falls silent, his expression unreadable. She pauses, cursing inwardly—was she insensitive for phrasing it as such? Likely. This wouldn’t be the first time she put her foot in her mouth. There have been many others in his life, for good or for ill. Some who came before her, and others who came after. He seems embarrassed—hesitant, even—to admit it front of her. But the truth of the matter is that she doesn’t mind the acknowledgement; if anything she prefers it.

“You had a life before me, Thancred,” she says quietly. “Just as I had one before you.”

He raises his head, his gaze finding hers. She pauses, heart thundering in her chest, uncertain what to say next. She has never broached the topic with him—not really—but she has sometimes wondered how awkward she has made his life. Unlike him, her sexual history is short and brief, and he is already too familiar with it. How strange have Alliance meetings become for him, knowing that Aymeric will always be in attendance? Or visits to Ala Mhigo, where there is always a chance of running into Fordola? To say nothing of Sidurgu, who is still very dear to her, with whom she shares a deeply personal connection she cannot explain, and thoughts she cannot easily express to the Scions. Not even her closest friends. Not even her husband.  

For him to know the others who have known her intimately… It’s not easily accepted.

She knows what this is like too well. She counts Hilda among her closest friends, and she has not forgotten the relationship that sparked between her and Thancred. Or the hurt it caused her and how their actions pushed her towards Aymeric.

All in the past now…  

There is no space for jealousy.

“Then yes,” he says finally, meeting her gaze. “I have had other lovers, and some of them have been here. Does that sate your curiosity?”

He pushes off the wall, the air prickling the back of her neck as he strides past her. His brow is furrowed, his mouth tight, all sense of the intense confidence and certainty he has before all but evaporated. He places a hand on what she suspects is a desk, his fingers twisting the white cover.

Aureia presses a hand to her chest, toying with her necklace. A simple silver chain, thin and delicate—a gift from Ryne and Gaia. “I’m sorry,” she says, regret twisting in the pit of her stomach. She should have left it alone. As with many things, she has ruined this by speaking out of turn. “I didn’t mean to push. Are you all right?”

He doesn’t answer. He simply stands—observing with the room with equal parts reverence and melancholy, as if mourning something he lost long ago. “Aye,” he says finally. “I am. I merely thought…”

She swallows the lump in her throat. She waits, her dark hair shining in a swath of blue-green and sliver light.

“This tower was disused for years by the time I stumbled upon it,” Thancred says finally. “A part of me hoped that others would find it, too. That it would have been re-purposed somehow. That it has not leaves me questioning… either my master did not want others to interfere out of sentimentality, or no one else has thought to come this way.”

She takes a step towards him. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No. I suppose it is not. I simply hoped that…”

He trails off.

She takes another step. “Home is not often how you remember it.”

His grip relaxes and he releases the cloth. Disturbed by his touch, it slithers to the floor, dragged down by the unstoppable pull of gravity. The desk beneath it is strong and sturdy, its surface still covered with brittle journals and yellowed papers. Was he the last to leave them here? Or someone else?

“It’s been over twenty years, Aureia,” he says, his voice cracking. “I was seventeen when I left for Ul’dah, when I failed to save Minfilia’s father. The age Ryne is now. Too young to be making such difficult decisions.”

“Aye,” she echoes. “Too young.”

He meets her gaze. “Do you remember where you were when you were seventeen?”

“Yes. Proving my worth to Garlean legatuses in a trial by combat. Proving the strength of my abilities to a certain crown prince.” She dares not breath Zenos’ name. Not here. Not now. “My mother staked not just the lives of my brother and myself on it, but her and my father’s as well.”

Her words are not bitter. She has no bitterness left to give. Kallias and Ariv may be alive somewhere in Garlemald, but Elgara’s death in Bozja closed the chapter on her birth family forever.

He pauses. “Too young,” he murmurs.

Aureia takes one last step, closing the distance between them. She places her palm against the back of his hand, her fingers entwining with his. He doesn’t flinch or move away. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she says. “Do you want to leave? We can head back to the Annex now, I’m sure the others will be waiting for us.”

He doesn’t answer. The chamber is silent, its stale air somehow both warm and cool, the light a haze, the distant sounds of the city little more than a distant hum. Somewhere, there is a trickle of water. Somewhere, a tick of a chronometer. Below, above, she does not know.

His hand grips hers.

“Then let them wait,” Thancred says roughly and pulls her into him.

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIVWrite Prompt 9: Lend an Ear

Rating: T

Word Count: 431

Summary: Persephone suffers her grief alone. [Takes place in Unsundered Azem AU, during Endwalker.]

[Master Post]

Persephone bid the Scions, her friends, goodnight before retiring to her room at the Annex.

As the door closed, the signature smile she wore always as Azem slipped from her face, leaving behind a visage of grief that she could not fully destroy, no matter how much she wanted to. That she could not share with anyone else. For who else would understand her grief and feel her pain the same way? Who among them was not happy that the threat to the star she had loved so dearly was dead?

She pulled her crystal from her pocket, the lovely orange that reminded her of sunsets, that he had said so long ago matched her eyes, seeming to sparkle less now. Persephone dragged herself to the nearby bed, still fully clothed and thoroughly incapable of even taking off the long robe-like coat she wore, and curled loosely on her side, hauling the blankets over her as if to hide from the rest of the world. She touched the crystal, and it spoke once more, the only words she had left.

“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler.”

A voice that would never speak new words to her, preserved in its original perfection in cold crystal, speaking words she had long since memorized. Some days she was tempted to stay in bed and only listen to them, again and again. His voice was the only thing she lived for now.

“Shepherd to the stars in the dark.“

That, and the reminder that she still had a job to do. A people to save. And once she did…when her purpose was complete…

She would have earned her rest, would she not? And then, then, she would deserve to see them again.

“Though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift,—“

Persephone slipped the purple crystal, with the constellation of the seat of Emet-Selch, from her pocket, placing it with hers, as if she believed that if she just put them close enough together, it would ease the loneliness in her heart.

But they were just stones. Beautiful and sparkling, but they did not ease the ache that had become her constant companion.

“—where you walk, my beloved, fate shall surely follow.”

Persephone did not recall when the tears started falling, but she made no move to stop them as she touched the crystal again, closing her eyes as if to imagine the voice was murmuring her to sleep rather than intoning an age old recording that was now all she had left.

“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler…”

[tainbocuailnge]

garlemald was inevitably going to be hard to write about in endwalker bc it started out being the cartoonishly evil empire but i think the writers also made it even harder for themselves during stormblood bc the tone was more serious but the empire still evil so the list of crimes got more detailed and heinous. and ala mhigo liberation arc isn’t really the right time to start humanizing the oppressor but the longer they put that off the harder it got to pull off and now i have people in the notes of my art saying wol is completely justified in massacring garleans actually. helping garlemald is the right thing to do because the people dying out on the streets are not the ones who signed off on the imperialist policies but the more nuanced takes on garlean imperialism and propaganda came so late in the game that all the garleans who don’t immediately denounce the empire's evils look like fucking idiots for taking pride in cartoonish evil, even though given the premises set up in universe their stance is understandable if unsustainable.

it would've gone a long way if there were some garlean deserters in the ala mhigan resistance or something bc until maxima and his populares in stb postgame the only garlean we meet who's not a raging imperialist is like. cid. nero is a deserter but not really for moral reasons he just wants to bother cid and gaius in stb postgame still believes in imperialism just not the ascian kind. all the others we see desert were forced conscripts to begin with. typical scrambling to recover from stormblood botching its execution situation tbh. i also think ew postgame is resolving diplomatic tensions with garlemald way too easily but that's more personal preference for complicated and difficult situations than an actual failure to write the story they're trying to write here.

[meepsthemiqo]

Ship: Meeps x G'raha Tia

Status: Failed. This ship failed to set sail.

Like many people, I chose to ship Meeps with G’raha Tia. I took a different approach, however. Meeps is not his “inspiration”. She is not his hero. This is more of an enemies to lovers trope. Meeps started off HATING G’raha Tia. HATING. For good reason, too. Firstly for dragging her to the First and separating her from her children for a long period of time. Then there was his involvement in Elidibus’ death. Not only did Meeps have confusing romantic feelings surrounding the Ascian, but he was the father of Fae’a, her son.

Their “romance” starts post-Endwalker. Meeps is in a very dark place, mentally. The death of Elidibus hit her HARD. His death triggered memories of her past life as Selene to resurface, confusing Meeps by making it hard to distinguish her own emotions from Selene’s. Not only that, her relationship with her son had become strained. As Fae’a grieved his father’s passing, he blamed his mother for not being able to save his father.

During the events of Endwalker, when G’raha mentions that Elidibus is “Not alive as such…but not quite dead…” something in Meeps snaps and she attacks G’raha, fueled by the grief and rage of her ancient counterpart. G’raha does not fight back. Meeps isn’t trained in combat and so G’raha isn’t in any real danger. He lets her vent her anger until she breaks down and holds her whilst she cries. 

It was in that moment that he realized that his actions, however justified, had consequences. Elidibus was a threat that needed to be stopped. He could no longer be reasoned with. G’raha did what he thought was right at the time. Yet in doing so, he caused harm to Meeps and her son. G’raha vowed to make things right in whatever way he could.

G’raha begins helping her around the house and with her children as a way to repay her for the hurt he caused her. Over time he begins to develop feelings for Meeps as he gets to know her and her family. Despite how obvious it is to everyone around him, G’raha does not voice his feelings out of fear of how Meeps would react.

Over time, Meeps does learn to forgive G’raha. His presence  helps her tremendously in her journey of healing. She learns to accept his help and that she doesn’t need to do everything herself. Needing help whilst she battles her depression does not make her a bad mother. 

I like to think that Meeps does eventually develop romantic feelings for G’raha. She comes to see and appreciates how hard he is trying. He is around so often he is almost part of the family. That being said, I do not think a romantic relationship between them would be healthy.

G’raha Tia killed Elidibus. That fact will ALWAYS be looming over his head. It is a fact that he cannot outrun. Even if Meeps is able to forgive him and even love him, Fae’a might not. Fae’a is still young and entering his teenage years. Being a teenager is hard enough without the knowledge that his mother is in love with his father’s killer. It would feel like a betrayal and destroy their relationship completely. Meeps would never do that to her son, nor would G'raha. It would likely be a mutual agreement between the two that a relationship cannot be.

I think the only way they could theoretically be together is much later on in life when Fae’a is an adult. Right now he isn’t mature enough to fully understand the reasoning behind his father’s death. Once he has grown up however, I think he would be more open to Meeps and G’raha being in a romantic relationship.

[ahollowgrave]

There was a post asking RPers with moon-worshipping characters how they handle the moon's revelation, especially with Endwalker. But! I am too shy to reblog that with my actual answers so instead I will post this two page rambling under a cut. (:

Okay, so I look at it through two lenses: 1) How much does your average citizen know about the big wide star and everything our beloved Warrior of Light gets up to in saving it all the time?

There are things in the real world I don’t know and things I am shocked to find out other people don’t know!

The history of the Star is vast and dense and no one can possibly know every crumb of it. 

2) Faith requires a sort of peace in knowing you don’t and won’t know certain things. If you have all the answers to all your questions, you don’t need faith.

The asking of questions is vital, here. If you are not curious about the world around you how can you possibly come to love it and those it shelters? If you believe for a second that you have all the answers to all the questions then your curiosity dies. 

That said with Odette and her convent it really boils down to:  They don’t know!

Odette is young, she may not have been alive during Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s defeat. I’m not really sure because time bubbles and I’m very vague with her age because time is my mortal enemy. When the moon started its fall the convent probably took it to mean: gods mad. Who wouldn’t? Even the faithless might pray under such a thing, no?  But the convent is secluded and news is slow to reach them and what does reach them is often embellished or outdated or just untrue. They must pick through the stories they are told and find the truth of the matter - which is subjective, as well! What is true for one might not be true for another. 

It is a bit of a chore, is what I am trying to say, and unreliable narrators are aplenty.

Currently, the Convent believes that earlier scripture naming Dalamud as Menphina’s Loyal Hound were written by Spoken who were trying to make sense of the world around them. They got it wrong, but no doubt there are things we get wrong even now with all our knowledge. 

The point of their faith is not to get things 100% right all the time but rather to meet the star and her denizens with hearts full of love. They don’t allow dogs at the convent, however.

The news out of EW is another matter since it still feels very fresh and new. Odette has stepped into the role of Nun Errant and she does relay information back to her Convent, either in person or via letter. I don’t know if the news of the WoL fighting the 12 made papers and so far it seems that most of the Loporrits that stayed star-side are in Old Sharlayan to learn! A big ship did go beyond the moon but that was… beyond the moon! So, like the nuns, I don’t know! They are but Spoken creatures, they question, yes, but it is difficult for them to see the grand picture being as small as they are.  It should be noted that Odette is not the warrior of light. I try very hard for her to not know everything the warrior of light gets up to in the MSQ because she, realistically, would not know. She’s just some nun! What I CAN say is that if Odette knew everything that I, the player, know she would still worship the Moon and Menphina. Imprisoning Zodiark before more needless death, setting the Loporrits to building a fallback and escape plan, reincarnating her closest and most trusted allies to serve as deities and make sure he cannot be freed? That’s love, baby. Of course, Menphina, the deity of Love, would be the keeper of the moon and its secrets! Also, almost none of this answered the secondary questions but… This is already very long but I could go on about the dark side of the moon, what it means to love, and all that but I’ll end it with this: It is okay for your characters to be wrong and make mistakes, IC! Let them have harmlessly bad and factually untrue opinions. 

BONUS: I recall a question about how a manmade moon might effect a god or goddess who is tied to it! But -- prayer and belief is were deities get their powers.

Well, the 12 as we know them are kind of ‘manmade’ themselves. Yes, Venat sort of reincarnated her most trusted allies, however… It was shown that prayers have the power to change them! We know that this altered Halone in some ways and I believe that it altered Menphina the same. Basically: Enough of her worshippers thought Dalamud was her ‘loyal hound’ and so she got a loyal hound. So, why should the moon(s) be any different?

[ramius-xiv]

Mare you kidding me

All right, now that Endwalker is officially behind us and since there's nothing better to do at the moment, it's time for a good old fashioned family fun science nerd rant! Today's hot take concerns Mare Lamentorum. This zone makes no damned sense! And no, not just because it has a breathable atmosphere and normal Earth gravity and is peopled by diminutive lapine homunculi and cactus Slendermen.

To illustrate my Internet Beef with the moon, let me start with a picture I'd like you to study before answering a question:

Based on the above picture, where would you say the sun is located? The moon's surface is in sunlight, so we must be on the daylight side of it i.e. facing the sun. Ramius' shadow is being cast directly behind him, and it's a long shadow. That tells us the sun should be low in the sky directly in front of him, right? Yet there is no sun! Not where it should be and not anywhere. In fact, there is never a sun in this zone's sky, at any point during any day or month, despite the fact that the surface of Mare Lamentorum is seemingly always in daylight. And the shadows cast by objects there always point in the same direction, so this invisible sun also never moves.

It gets weirder. Take a look at Etheirys over there on the right. Look at the direction the sun's light is shining on it from: somewhere off camera to the right and behind Rami. That's a totally different location!

In theory there should only be one primary source of light illuminating both of these heavenly bodies: the sun. And we're not on Tattooine, so there's only one of those.

It gets weirder still, because we always see the same face of the planet from the moon, i.e. it doesn't appear to be rotating! And the shadow the sun is casting on the planet changes in a way that's totally inconsistent with any cycle we know! Now you're beginning to see how truly bizarre this affront to rational orbital physics is, my friends.

We know from what's observable in all the other zones down on the planet's surface that Etheirys' planetary characteristics are roughly the same as Earth's (albeit simplified in ways I won't go into). It has twelve hours each of day and night, and has both a sunrise and a moonrise daily, which means it rotates on its axis once every twenty four hours. Its moon has an observed lunar cycle of about twenty eight days, which means the moon orbits Etheirys monthly give or take, just like ours. And since we always see the same face of the moon from the surface, we know that the moon's rotation is tidally locked with the planet, i.e. it rotates once for every full orbit, like our own.

So here's what we should see over time in Mare Lamentorum:

There should be a sun in the sky!

Since the moon makes a full rotation once a month, the zone should have a "daytime" of about two in-game weeks. During those two weeks the sun would rise on one horizon, slowly cross the sky above, and then set two weeks later at the opposite horizon. The shadows cast by objects would slowly reverse direction during this lunar day.

Then for the next two in-game weeks it should be "nighttime" in Mare Lamentorum, with the whole surface shrouded in moody darkness.

Etheirys should have a phase cycle (the revolving orientation of the shadow on it) one in-game month long as the moon we're standing on orbits around it and our vantage point on the planet changes.

Etheirys should be rotating in the sky fully once per day.

Now before anyone says anything (assuming anybody is even still reading this), I know that the devs will always prioritize gameplay over realism and that there are various likely reasons why they didn't model the solar cycles accurately in this zone:

It's not practically or aesthetically ideal to have players new to the zone showing up for the first time and playing through the entire zone cloaked in shadow for two whole in-game weeks. Spoils that big reveal from the Watcher's balcony.

A monthlong period of movement for the sun in the skybox may not be easily done in the game's code.

They couldn't model a rotating Etheirys because they hadn't yet modeled the entire world map including where Tural is (but they could've just covered the Tural hemisphere in clouds!).

A lot of creative artistic choices go into the decisions around how a zone is lit, and things like the Watcher's Palace or Bestways Burrow may not look as impressive shadowed differently. (Though you could make this same argument for other zones and those change constantly during every in-game day, to say nothing of the fog that often spoils a new vista in cutscenes).

The devs just might not know or care deeply about these important astronomical considerations the way you and I do!

They may know and care after all, but decided that having the shadow on the planet work in whatever way it works was the most important thing, and omitted the sun from the sky so it wouldn't draw attention to the inconsistencies.

And to all this I say: Whatever! Welcome to the party, fun police.

Enjoy Dawntrail, everyone.

[windup-dragoon]

FFXIVwrite 2023

Prompt - Fish out of Water A person away from his or her usual environment or activities

Content Warning: Mention of Pregnancy, Endwalker MSQ

Word Count: 1549

Set during the months between finding a new route to the void, Kiri asks that Zero and Estinien accompany her to Doma to pay Hien a visit. Although out of place, Zero is never too far away from Kiri.

Zero was truly a fish out of water if there had ever been one. From Radz-at-han, Garlemald, and to the warm climate of Doma, all an exciting, if not exhausting new experience.

She could manage well enough with her fellows beside her, namely Kiri who could talk her way out of a paper bag with a laugh and a charming smile. Estinien too was never far behind, mindfully watching Kiri throughout the months they spent together. With them, Zero felt it a little easier to breathe. They never expected her to be anything else but herself.

This week, in-between talks of how best to reach the 13th again, they were given pardon to a little field trip of sorts. A short visit to Doma at Kiri’s request which no one seemed inclined to deny. Vrtra would stay at Radz-at-han in case news developed in the meantime, the trio sailing for Doma the next morning.

“You are attuned to the aetheryte in Doma, are you not?” Zero asked abruptly as they filed off one ship in Kugane only to greet another, smaller, boat to take them further. “Surely you could have gone ahead.”

“Aye,” Estinien, hauling a small bag of goods, climbed the boat first before offering a hand to the warrior of light.

Kiri accepted happily, a smile brightly painted on her face as she gave Estinien a pat on the cheek. “And miss this sorta attention? Never.”

Since having met her in person, away from the shadow of Zenos, Zero had noticed a change in the silver haired woman. Always smiling, always a hand close to her stomach. She had begun to wonder if the food at Radz-at-han was simply too rich for Kiri. Excessive eating of, albeit delicious, food would certainly have an effect.

But when Zero thought to bring it up, Kiri would simply smile and hum with her melodious laughter.

“Truthfully,” Kiri began once they had taken off from port, her hand gliding on the water's surface. “Using the crystal to travel upsets my stomach.” She gave a soft pat of her belly, looking dreamily out at the Ruby sea. “And the fresh air is nice, ain’t it?”

From the Ruby Sea to a small village named Namai, the trio traveled with light, idle banter. Estinien and Zero would clear the path of monsters or the ilk while Kiri diverted their attention to point out flora she liked or to show Zero tiger cubs watching them from the brush malms away. The scenery itself was colorful to Zero’s eyes, different from Radz-at-han certainly, but still appealing. Now only if they serve spicy curry…

At Namai they were greeted by a woman, Yugiri, who seemed well acquainted with Kiri. Small of stature but strong of presence. Politely she introduced herself and in typical Zero custom, a tilt of her hat was given in return.

“I apologize on behalf of Lord Hien,” Yugiri started once they were on their way again. “He is otherwise occupied in a meeting with G'raha Tia at the moment.”

“G'raha?” It was in unison that Kiri and Estinien replied, making Zero look them over curiously.

“It was at Lord Hien’s request that they meet.” Yugiri continued, a small smile on her lips. “He was eager to meet the famed G'raha Tia that you speak so fondly of.”

Kiri and Yugiri shared a light chuckle that had Zero feeling as though she missed some context. Partly she wondered what tales Kiri had told them of G'raha, and partly wondered if Kiri spoke of her as well.

Kiri had a way about her storytelling that always felt like a vivid dream. Zero found herself wanting to hear everything about Kiri; especially the stories where she could hardly speak without breaking into a rumbling fit of laughter. Did she weave stories about their time together as well? Nothing funny particularly stood out in Zero’s mind, but deep down, in some unknowable place in her heart, she hoped Kiri told extravagant stories of their shared experiences. For what purpose she did not yet understand, only that she hoped Kiri’s face lit up for her the way it did for everyone else.

Reaching Doma wasn’t particularly interesting for Zero. She silently took in the landscape, recognizing acts of war that had ravaged it with a heavy heart. But yet the villagers of Namai had been in high spirits, working toward a brighter future. And the enclave was no different. Children raced down the streets while adults went about their daily chores, turning to smile as they made their entrance from the pier.

There was hope to be seen in these faces. War wasn’t eternal to them, not like the conflict that made the void so dreadful. Would she one day know this feeling? Or hear children laughing while playing in patches of warm sunlight? Was there hope for the 13th?

“Kiri!” A voice intruded on Zero’s thoughts as two men emerged from the manor before them. G'raha tagged along behind the first, giving Zero and Estinien a brief wave.

“Oi, havin’ friends over without me, eh?” Kiri laughed. The man, while practicing an air of sophisticated calm, practically raced up to the group and indulged himself in lifting Kiri off the ground in an embrace.

Together they danced, laughing and teasing each other with small, fluttering kisses on the cheek. Zero, much like Estinien, turned away as if she were the one intruding on their personal time.

This was the man that Kiri spoke so frequently about, Hien. Zero recognized him from countless descriptions she had been told as she and Kiri ate bowls of curry in Radz-at-han. Seeing them together now only made it easier to see why Kiri enjoyed talking about him. Like watching sunlight on a summer afternoon. They felt bright and warm.

Hien put Kiri back on her feet before kneeling, his hands carefully placed on her rounded stomach. Zero cocked a brow, again feeling as though she shouldn’t be watching.

“Hello to you too, little one. I’ve missed you both.” He spoke so softly Zero thought perhaps she misheard him.

To Estinien, Yugiri, and G'raha, Zero turned, head tilted slightly. “She is with child?”

The group exchanged a wide eyed look, Yugiri being the first to smile before the men. “Yes she is.”

G'raha cleared his throat, attempting his best effort not to laugh. “Her stomach wasn’t nearly so round when she first met you, was it?”

Zero shuffled in place, crossing her arms as she gave it some thought. “…The food at Radz-at-han is very amenable… And she is never far from a plate of fruits…”

At this Estinien howled and G'raha choked on laughter.

“What? It isn’t too abstract to believe, is it?”

Yugiri gently placed a hand on Zero’s shoulder, smiling in a similar manner as Kiri would have. “You’re absolutely right about that. If there is one thing Kirishimi loves, it’s good food.”

“What’s this ‘bout food?” Practically deserting Hien where he stood, Kiri eagerly stepped closer to her fellows. She wore the look of a cat who had heard the dinner bell. 

A light flutter of laughter echoed amongst the party while Zero steadied her attention to Kiri. She truly was a fish out of water. When you exist in a world without reason to celebrate such things as new life, a world that had no use for newborn children, what then did one do in such circumstances? 

In any other situation, Zero would approach Kiri about it, asking for clarification of customs. One should be happy to hear the news of a child, right? Perhaps say something pleasant, like … good job? You did well? None seemed to suffice, at least not in her mind. 

Briefly she wondered about her own mother, and all the other mothers and newborn children that existed in her world before it was torn apart. Before darkness swallowed any sort of happiness or joy. A heaviness filled her chest as the thought expanded. How warm had her mothers embrace been? Was this what it meant to trust and love someone? The trust one held for their mother, the very reason for her existence. 

“Zero?” Kiri’s voice chimed like a bell beside her, drawing her away from the bitterness that tightened her throat. The Warrior of Light had moved closer, her head tilted in her typical curious fashion. “Everythin’ alright?” 

Everyone else had started a new conversation, a discussion of a planned dinner, of course. But for once, Kiri hadn’t been a part of it. Zero looked away, crossing her arms again. “..What does one say when you are happy for them?” 

Kiri blinked in response. “What’cha mean?” 

“To you. I want to say I am happy for you but I don’t know how to express it. Certainly there is a custom for this, right?” Zero never met Kiri’s eyes as she spoke, but the gentle hum of a laugh was more than enough for her. 

“Ohhh.” Her laughter grew, bright and contagious as always. “Oh Zero, you can say ‘Congratulations!’ Or just sayin’ yer happy for me is more than enough.” 

Before Zero could repeat the chosen word, a pair of arms wrapped around her. She stammered a hushed ‘congratulations’ before pulling at the brim of her hat. 

“Thank you, Zero.”

[angryaurikhori]

Smash or Pass FFXIV Edition

Not actually tagged by anyone, but I saw @sunderedazem and @calico-heart do it and figured I should do one too featuring my train wreck of an au ra!

Khorijin Iriq

Quick Facts:

Age: 28 (start of Dawntrail)

Height: 4'9"

Gender: Cis woman

Sexuality: Demisexual/Pansexual

Pronouns: She/her

Pros:

excellent hunter and forager from growing up on the Steppe and training in Gridania. You'll never go hungry, even in the most remote locations!

trained as a bard when she came to Eorzea. She knows all the best songs and stories.

quite playful and silly once she warms up to you.

also very romantic and physically affectionate. Loves to cuddle.

very loyal to her people and will gladly defend them to the death if needed.

she's quite easy to pick up and carry around due to her small stature. If you're close, she won't mind this at all.

Cons:

you might hear her talking to herself. Except she's talking to the manifestation of all her rage and grief. Or the dead guy who was a shard of her sundered soul. Either way, she's got some quite literal ghosts.

tends to shut down and soldier through tough situations, which is great until she realizes what exactly happened and begins to spiral. It's not pretty.

willingly puts herself into situations that are detrimental to her health, physical or mental. Cannot be talked out of it if it's for the good of the Star.

not quite over her past self's ex from the pre-sundering times.

somewhat touch-averse after everything that happened to her on the First. She's working on overcoming that, but it's a struggle. She has to initiate to feel comfortable.

Details to know:

Khori has many battle scars, some from previous Naadams before she left the Steppe, but most were from her time with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. She's not ashamed of them, but she does look a little patchwork.

this includes her time on the First when she stopped the Eighth Calamity at the source of the problem. The change she's most self-conscious of is the change to her scales.

for quite a while after the First, Khori felt like anyone who touched her risked "contaminating" themselves with any residual light aether that may have remained within her. She was very paranoid the first few weeks after the events in the Tempest, but shes slowly managing to overcome her aversion to others touching her.

prefers tea as her morning beverage of choice, so strong it's almost bitter.

didn't believe in the Twelve until certain events during Endwalker. Even then, she's still not particularly religious, save for habitual prayers to her patron deity, Oschon, at the start of every journey. It's more the ritual itself that calms her than believing a god is protecting her.

she absolutely loves spicy foods. Be prepared for this, especially if she's doing the cooking!

Romantically - Khori is an attentive partner and doesn't shy away from tame PDA, like coiling her tail around her partner as they walk or cuddling. Her love language skews towards doing things to help her partner, whether it's melding materia into their crafting sets or helping them look after the chocobos. However, due to lingering fear from nearly turning into a Lightwarden she tends to shy away from any touches that she doesn't initiate. Despite this difficulty, she's very dedicated to any partner.

Sexually - despite being touch-averse, Khori is game for just about any fun in bed. Just let her initiate. She's versatile, but prefers being in charge, just in case she has a bad reaction to something. Despite her hang-ups about touch, she's more than willing to try anything at least once!

As for tags, if you see this and haven't done it yet, feel free!

[siderealcity]

LRT I really like a lot of the analysis of Y'shtola and Matoya there, and I don't want to append a bunch of speculation/interpretation onto it, but there's just... so much about Matoya as a character that lives in the margins and background of the story that I feel is worth examining.

To start with: Her conflict with the Forum.

This is the very first thing we learn about her, and no one ever goes into any details about it, but there's enough we can kind of piece together from the MSQ to paint a picture. A few of the things she says to you if you visit her cave after the MSQ.

Post-Heavensward: I don't care much for politics. Too much talk and not enough action. (After: For those we can yet save) Noble causes, hmph. I can't count how many times I've seen what began with the best of intentions be twisted into something altogether different in service to a “noble” cause. Post-Endwalker: Like old Louisoix, you lot set out to save the world. Like him, you believed in your cause with all your heart. And like him, you succeeded. The spineless wretches of the Forum could stand to take a cue from your example.

We know that she was charged with designing a weapon to use against the Garleans that the Forum decided wasn't worth developing and then opted to flee the continent and abandon everyone there to die. That this--the refusal to act, even in their own defense--is the philosophical difference which keeps her from returning to the motherland seems pretty clear.

I suspect that this is the core of her rivalry and disagreements with Louisoix, Galuf, and Montichaigne, as well. But I'll get to that more later.

The second thing we know about her concerns the Crystal Eye.

How and why she obtained it is never explained, but I am an old-school FF player. I know that she has it because Matoya in the original Final Fantasy game had a crystal eye that was stolen. However, in this case, the eye has a lot of interesting implications.

She tells us that it's an old crystal of light, and therefore we know it is implicitly connected to Hydaelyn. The only person who can use it (aside from Matoya herself, presumably) is Krile. Who has the Echo and the gift of hearing the soul. And then, of course, we soon learn that Matoya is the last keeper of the Antitower, the Sharlayan device for speaking to Hydaelyn. The crystal eye was probably used as part of the Antitower originally.

Matoya, therefore, is an oracle. We can assume she, too, has the Echo like Claudien in Old Sharlayan, and occupied a position like his during the days of the Sharlayan colony. She was the researcher responsible for managing their studies of the Aetherial Sea and for trying to communicate with the Mothercrystal--a thing only those who have the Echo can do.

Which means that, in all likelihood, she knew about Hydaelyn's warning of the Final Days to some degree or other.

This sets her up, in many ways, like Zero. She's effectively meant to be a Warrior of Light, but nobody around her will do anything. She's alone. Watching things fall apart.

Her frustration with the Forum--with her entire culture--was probably not limited to their policy on Garlemald. That was almost certainly just the final straw. Her closest friend/rival seems to have been Louisoix, Sharlayan's foremost expert on prophecy. Followed by Galuf (we know that she kept in touch with him enough to hear about G'raha from him) who dedicated his life to trying to stop the primal Eureka from destroying everyone. It's not hard to imagine that this group of archons, all of them interested in stopping calamities, clashed with the Forum in different ways, but also with one another over how to act on behalf of the star.

When the moment came, and the Forum decided to give up on Etheirys, Louisoix followed the order and went home. Galuf stayed on his island prison. Nobody stood up for the star.

Louisoix thought, perhaps, that he could change things from inside. That seems to have been the root of his many arguments with Fourchenault. He tried for too long to get Sharlayan to take action, and was forced, in the end, to make a desperate last stand. Galuf and Montichaigne seem to have had similar stances. Trying to work within a broken system to achieve change. It didn't work. Galuf follows Louisoix in making a desperate sacrifice to avert calamity. Montichaigne would have gone along with the Exodus.

I think her refusal to return to Old Sharlayan was also her way of saying that she unequivocally rejected the Great Exodus, as well.

And then Y'shtola left.

She would have been a child at the time, she couldn't have had much say in the matter, but nevertheless, she obediently went back to the motherland to finish her education with the fools who wanted to sit around debating over whether or not it was worth trying to fight for their own lives. No wonder Matoya felt bitter about it.

And just look at how often this is the point over which Y'shtola clashes with others.

When we are busy doing ridiculous fetch quests for the Company of Heroes, she's furious about this. Why do you need a test? Someone needs to do something, doing nothing serves nothing, you idiots! Thancred's indecision about Minfilia, Urianger's waffling and deception over even telling the WoL something is wrong with them, she has no patience for this. Act. Stop being a coward. No amount of thinking about it will make the problem disappear. This is Matoya's influence, through-and-through.

It's ironic, but oddly fitting that Matoya, keeper of the device for communicating with Hydaelyn, struggles to communicate with her apprentice. But so much of her anger and frustration with her friends, colleagues, leaders, and nation stems from their propensity to talk too much and act too little. They heard Hydaelyn's warning and took the exact wrong approach. What good is knowing without doing? What good are words without deeds?

And we see her act. Every single time Y'shtola comes to her for anything, she complies. The plans she locked away forever? Of course you can have them. Keys to the Antitower which nobody should ever use? Go ahead. Her precious older-than-antique Crystal of Light? Fine, borrow it. Something bad happens to Shtola? She will leave her cave for the first time in twenty years and come take care of her. Oh, you're making pigs fly? I'll open up the evil magic lab.

She is the most ridiculously doting master in the entire game, she just tries to cover it up (badly) with crochety remarks.

[forgotten-contract]

Added proper Tags for Silvaire Content that will split all posted [non-thread content, they will get their own unique tags past the first posts/starters]- copied from the Verses/Tags page;;;;;;

Silvaire’s Narrative is REALLY. REALLY LONG. (Hence having a whole novel about that history) but I have sorted each of these ‘Arcs’ into different tags, as each one can be treated as a different ‘characterization’ he had at the time. (All the same person of course, but they vary drastically in personality or tone due to the events around him.)

[Arc - Odysseus] ;;; Silvaire’s Ancient self. This is not largely explained on the blog, but it is fully explored and he is an ally of Azim - Originally held the seat of Deudalaphon ((Appraiser of architecture and patron of invention)) within the convocation; However once they prompted the summoning of Zodiark, he left his seat in disagreement to the choice. 

[Arc - Warrior of Crystal] ;;; This is set within FF11, before the Flood of Darkness ((Do note all Sil Lore was written a literal decade+ ago before the 14 Raid Series)). His lore is a mix of canons that most likely don’t match with 14 version [as of time of writing raid is not out yet] so some reading would be needed for interactions.

[Arc - Voidsent] ;;; Mephistopheles within the Void. This is set wholly in the 13th and is fully primal-voidsent form. ‘The worst he can be’ is at this time.

[Arc - The Hound] ;;; Argenti van Nullus, This is set during his time as The Hound of Garlemald as he was in service to Solus/Emet as an instrument of war in a Voidsent Contract (This lasts from the founding of the empire to ARR)

[Arc - Mephistopheles] ;;; The Longest stretch of his narrative and most content written with him thus far. After his banishment/escape from Garlemald the voidsent creates a place for himself within Ul'Dah and pretends to be mortal - eventually 'assisting’ the WoL/Scions for his own hidden agenda (As well as assisting enemy factions/Ascians in the background to further that selfish need) This covers all MSQ content from ARR > Start of Shadowbringers. He is not a good person.

[Arc - Guilt] ;;; From events within Shadowbringers (Emet-Selch pulls back the curtain of Silvaire’s lies and deeds to the Scions and thus breaks their trust as well as them learning his voidsent affliction/Ascian knowledge that could have helped/saved people in the past) He has to contend with the fact he has started to care about them and what he’s done to them (this is due to multiple factors but can be summarized as his 'Balance of Aether’ is no longer purely umbral/Voidsent. He starts he road to recovery here lasting from Shadowbringers > Post Endwalker

[Arc - Recovery] ;;; This is Current Narrative Silvaire! Dawntrail onward! He is making active changes to be 'a person again’. Thus far only the WoL and Krile [due to her echo knowing he’s honest] have offered an olive branch. Personality wise he is growing far closer to the person he was originally (in Arc-WoC) and he is recovering at a nice healthy pace! [Due to DT Spoilers this will not be fully explained for some time! But do know, Good!! Healthy!! Love it for him] -- Within this Arc he has gained more control over his own aetherwell, compared to it being connected to the voidsent/Sins of Promathia/Mephistopheles, thus his visual design within that state changes!

[aotopmha]

Woopsie. Forgot I haven't finished MSQ yet and wandered into spoiler territory.

Luckily it's something I kind of suspected/was still vague enough. So a kind of semi-spoiler, maybe? I don't know, and that's good.

But, spoilers for level 97 MSQ.

So, in typical FF14 fashion, the reality of the situation is fucked up, but also incredibly compelling.

I think you could explore some really fascinating ideas with the foundation built and everything revealed during the 5th zone.

The "immortality" aspect, the memory "manipulation" aspect, the commodification of souls and how that is tied to the entirety of the story that came before, including Endwalker, is really solid thematic writing.

Once again, a simple foundation is given depth by later reveals.

And I'm really enjoying Wuk in this section because she is becoming savvy.

The losses have really pushed her to be serious when it matters and the lessons she learned are really being solidified here.

She is trusting, but not too trusting.

Willing to learn, but also out of her depth, while also being aware of this and her shortcomings and thus leaning on those who know better than her.

But also giving confident input when she truly believes in something; like her perspective of her brother.

I think her willingness to learn and budding true confidence are becoming my favourite part of her character.

In short, she is becoming a leader.

I think I'm now also firmly on the side of people being pretty terrible at reading comprehension when considering some of the criticism I've seen of her character, especially if they've claimed they've made it to the latter half of the story.

In general, I've seen people say it's fine to skip unvoiced cutscenes, but I think this is absolutely not true.

Please, at least skim it. Some important connective tissue is in there, at the very least.

But of course, all of this said, there are still a few levels left to the story, so issues might turn up here, so we'll see.

For some other highlights, Erenville's mom is fantastic, as well, though I am expecting tragedy there.

I also think Sphene probably ends up being a villainous character. She seems *too* sugary sweet, especially when considering the reveals that were in parallel with her first substantial appearance.

As I said, though, I adore this entire thing so much thematically above all I think. You take all of these simple concepts you introduced in the first half and combine and complicate them in the second half.

What if that unknown culture you're facing is truly nothing like what you've seen before? What if that culture is fundamentally opposed to your beliefs?

What if the family you love so is responsible for a lot of suffering?

In fact, something that has been obvious to me from the start is that all of these areas are so different from each other to enforce the culture shock theme. And Heritage Found took it to the logical extreme.

It's the point for it to feel off/strange and I love that because it kind of comments on the tone and setting shifts Final Fantasy games tend to go through.

The entire point of them is to explore different "perspectives" isn't it? From settings to concepts and other elements.

And all of the voice actors used from different regions of the US enforce this theme. I don't know if this is true for the original jp cast, but the eng cast enforces this theme well.

Not all of them are flawless performance-wise, but it makes me happy they went through the effort to give this talent an opportunity to get more experience and exposure.

I'm excited to learn more and extremely gripped right now, though. Only stopped because of being tired.

[myreia]

Desiderium

CHAPTER ONE: THE LIGHT IN THE DARK

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Thancred Waters Pairings: Aureia/Thancred Chapter Words: 2,927 Notes: Set during early Endwalker, spoilers for the start of the expac. Summary: After arriving in Old Sharlayan, Aureia wants to see Thancred’s old haunts. He could not be happier to oblige, but his thoughts are occupied by something else entirely. Prompt: ii. hands | blush Chapters: one • two • three • four • five Read on AO3

Grey clouds gather above Scholar’s Harbour as the sun slips below the horizon, a silent herald to a change in the weather.

Aureia observes the sea from the Last Stand, forgoing a seat to instead balance on the railing that lines the café’s perimeter. She turns her mug in her hands, warming her palms against it, and raises it to her lips. For her first night in a new city, she feels a surprising amount of calm. The others have all retired for the evening or otherwise disappeared—G’raha and Y’shtola to the library, the twins to the home of some old friend from the Studium, Urianger to wander the Agora, Krile back to the Baldesion Annex, Estinien to some private place to swing his lance around… They agreed to reconvene in the Annex’s main hall later to discuss their plans before bed, but she can’t bring herself to venture indoors yet. After two moons on a ship, the wide, open boulevards of Old Sharlayan are more than welcome.

The trip was fine, all things considered. One day in and she was jokingly referring to it as a much-needed holiday; out on the open sea life came a standstill, all emergencies put on pause while the wind and the waves carried them to their destination. By the end of the first week, it was less of a joke, the cramped space and lack of activity putting unwanted stress on her mind. By the end of the second, it was no longer enchanting.

Her friends were well-meaning. Estinien tried his best, talking the captain into letting them attempt a training regiment adjusted for the ship’s deck. That ended the day Alisaie joined them and almost knocked him overboard. Alphinaud sought an alternative route, advocating the merits of engaging one’s mind rather than the body. He manifested several tomes on summoning—she doesn’t know from where—and encouraged her to sit and read, arguing that this was as good as any a time to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

Weeks of study and she has yet to summon a simple carbuncle.

With little to do but sit, read, walk the deck—sit, read, walk the deck—and cycle through the same conversations again and again, it’s no wonder she was beginning to feel a little loopy by the end of it. The suffocating stale air of the lower cabins, the endless rock of the ship, the inability to pick a direction at random and take off… She once thought sailors had the most freedom out of any, but now she thinks it an illusion of choice. The ship may go where she pleases, but the people onboard? Trapped.

At this rate the vision she saw this morning may have very well been a hallucination. Hydaelyn has been silent to her for years, her presence a faint whisper around the edges of her mind at most. The woman she saw—tall, proud, ancient, observing her with kind eyes and an even kinder smile—was little more than an echo, fraying at the seams. It is strange to finally put a face to the voice after so many years, and she can’t express how wrong��it feels.

Those eyes… She can’t get them out of her head. Intense blue, sharp and passionate and unyielding. She saw them reflected in Minfilia once, then again in Ryne. Love that does not need to be spoken, love that is as enduring and boundless as the sea.

The love of a primal. The love of a god.

Love that can as assuredly drown as much as it can soothe.

A part of her wishes she had never seen it.

Perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she made it up.

We shall meet again… and soon.

The promise echoes in the corners of her mind. What does it mean, they will meet again? Hydaelyn herself? Or this mortal image of her? Both? She wants nothing more than to tear it free and let it go, casting it to the winds like a fallen leaf ripped from her hands on a cool autumn day. Lost and forgotten. 

“Is it to taste?”

The sound of Thancred’s voice snaps her back to the present. She blinks, the warmth of affection washing over her as she notes the familiar trudge of his steps and senses his presence behind her.

Aureia rests the lip of the mug against her mouth, hiding her smile. “It’s fine, I suppose,” she replies. “A bit too dark and bitter. Not even a healthy dose of milk can save this. Over-steeped and scalded with boiling water, if I were to guess. Sharlayans seem to have many areas of expertise, but brewing tea is not one of them.”

“Always a critic, I see. You could ask for sugar, you know.”

“And ruin it even further? Please. You know sugar in my tea is an offense I take personally.”

He snorts with laughter and sidles up beside her, resting his folded arms against the railing. The wind plays in his hair as he looks outward to the harbour, hazel eyes bright and observant in the dusky rose light. “You know, Aureia darling, you were never this opinionated in Ul’dah,” he says. “I don’t recall you caring much about your tea.”

“I may have picked up some opinions in Doma. Hien and Yugiri’s influence, of course.”

“Hm. I think not.”

“You think not?”

“The change began sooner than that. Ishgard, if I recall correctly, with a certain Lord Commander, no?”

“Aymeric may have changed my tastes in some regards, but certainly not with tea.” 

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “If you say so.” 

Together they fall silent, observing the shifting crowd. A scattering of people makes their way across the piers—gleaners and merchants, most like—moving with purposeful intensity. The city is busy in a way other major metropolises are not. Ul’dah’s streets are cramped and congested, sticky with suffocating heat and the scent of crime. Limsa Lominsa’s are open and chaotic, her people as unpredictable as the seas that surround her. And Ishgard wavers between the stately judgement of the Pillars and the brazen instability of the Brume.

But here in Old Sharlayan, everyone seems to have a purpose. A goal. United in their diligence, content with their place in society. She is certain there are the outliers—those who do not fit, who are not so easily shoved into a convenient box—but they seem few and far between. Twelve hours in the city and she has never seen anything quite so… harmonious. Even the Crystarium was not this cohesive.

It’s a little uncanny.

Aureia takes another sip of tea and glances sideways at Thancred. What does he see, she wonders? She’s an outsider to Sharlayan, her observations clouded by her limited understanding and her experiences with the abandoned colony in the Dravanian hinterlands. But he was raised here, educated here—a home of sorts, though he has never referred to it as that. He is in tune to the rhythms of the city, its complexities and intricacies. He will see something she does not.

“You didn’t get anything?” she remarks, testing the waters as she searches for a lead into her real question.

He shrugs and adjusts his coat, tugging his collar high enough to hide his tattoos. “Dickon had some grandiose idea about fine wines to follow up with after a fine meal. I had to extricate myself before his suggestions became too tempting.”

“Hm.” She taps her fingers against the side of her mug, recognizing the weary irritation in his voice. They both have not touched alcohol in years but leaving it behind was far from an easy thing to do. A few years ago, she would never have batted an eye at how present it is in the lives of most, but now she cannot have it… It is inescapable. 

A knot twists itself in her stomach. Not wishing to dwell on where her thoughts have taken her, Aureia turns sideways and proffers her mug to him. He takes it without question and sips quietly, brows drawing together with distaste.

Or perhaps it’s not the tea at all that is bothering him so. Perhaps it’s the couple he is staring at, eyes fixed on their passage as they walk through pier, smiles bright and laughter ringing across the harbour. A Miqo’te and an Elezen—students, by the look of then, content to be done class for the day. They pause halfway down the path, the Elezen sweeping the Miqo’te to the side to kiss her. 

“You were not wrong,” Thancred says with a grimace. “That is… awfully bitter.”

Aureia raises her chin in challenge. “You can have it, if you want.”

“I think this is more to your taste than it is mine.”

He looks her dead in the eye and takes another sip.

She snorts with laughter and shakes her head, turning back to watch the passersby. The air is grey with the promise of snow, the wind still as if it is holding its breath. Boats creak in the harbour, bobbing up and down on gentle waves, their mariners returned to land for the night. Shadows flicker down the street as the lamplights ignite one by one, preparing the city streets for evening.

“Is it strange?” she asks after a moment. “Returning here after so long…”

“Not at all. Or… aye, perhaps it is.” He lowers the mug, swishing the remaining tea back and forth. “Time will pass—and faster than you expect—yet the haunts of your youth will remain uncannily the same. Were I to recall the tale of every misadventure that has befallen me since I left these shores, we would be here well into the early hours of the morning. And yet when I look upon this place, it has both been years and none at all.”

The wooden railing creaks beneath her as she shoves herself a little closer to him. “Any charming stories to share of your misadventures here?” she asks, crossing her ankles, her feet dangling in the air.

He chortles and raises the mug. “Aye, though I doubt you would consider any of them charming. Questionable, on the other hand…”

“Oh? Embarrassed to share the highlights of your rambunctious youth, are we?”

“Embarrassed? No. Restraining from making a fool of myself by speaking openly of them in public? Yes.”

She catches his eye, noting the sly smile hidden behind the mug. He is unexpectedly playful this evening, his spirits high, all the grumbling and the groaning he did about their time at sea vanished the moment he stepped foot on land. Good ol’ Sharlayan, he called it as the ship pulled into harbour.

His gaze is trained on her with an intensity she hasn’t seen in moons, as if they are a step out of time with the rest of the world. The Last Stand may be crowded with its evening rush, but in this moment, she is the only one who exists.

Aureia pauses and rests a hand on the railing, her fingers brushing against his elbow. She breathes a sigh and turns back to watch the harbour. Though it is now absent of workers, the wanderers have emerged—people there by choice to enjoy the promenades, some alone, some together. There are more than a handful of couples roaming arm-in-arm, bundled in thick cloaks and heavy coats.

Her heart pangs, aching unexpectedly at the sight, and she shoots a sideways glance at Thancred. The desire to be close to him flares in her chest. They had weeks of proximity on the ship, but it was different in such confined quarters. Close, yet far away.

Not that she can imagine them strolling through the streets or being so outward with their affection. Especially in public. They would rather not have more eyes on their relationship than necessary. Even the Worldly Affairs official wasn’t told of their marriage, though she suspected it would have made passing through immigration easier. She wasn’t keen to leverage her weight as the Warrior of Light or the Champion of Eorzea here—big, important titles with an even bigger and more important meaning, and exactly the kind that fall flat on the ears of tired bureaucrats chained to proper procedure.

And yet defining herself as his spouse—as an Archon’s wife—left her feeling odd, as if she were dependent on him. They are a pair, true, but their partnership does not cost them their independence. She can handle her own problems. Besides, she needs to stand with Estinien as the only other non-Sharlayan washing up unasked on its shores.  

Aureia wrinkles her nose. She is still annoyed at how easily the Archons among them breezed by—and how close Estinien was to being ejected altogether if Krile hadn’t shown up. Damn Sharlayan and its closed borders. After seeing the remnants of their colony, she carries some disdain for the nation. To prop themselves up as cultivators of knowledge, only to hoard it and file it away, shutting out the outside world. They could do so much good with what they have learned. And yet they keen to keep their neutrality, tucked away safely on their little island, away from calamity, away from strife…

Let it go, Aureia. You barely know this place. Reserve your judgement until you have seen more, yes?  

“Gil for your thoughts?” Thancred asks after a moment, observing her with concern.

She arches an eyebrow, leaning in close. “Think you can afford them?”

“We share finances, Aureia darling, if I can’t afford them then I know you’ve spent an outrageous fortune on another gaudy replica of a weapon you are never going to use and I may have to ask Tataru to stage an intervention.”

“…I thought you said you wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“You drag me through the dirt on a daily basis, I must return the favour now and again. Considering you and Urianger have such easy access to ammunition for attacks on my character, I have precious few defenses on which to fall back on. I’m not going to give this one up so easily.”

She grins, her laughter disappearing into the breeze as the wind picks up. It tugs at her ponytail and chafes her cheeks, blowing a strand of hair across her face. The scent of brine washes over her, crisp and salty and fresh, and the first few flakes of snow fall at last.

The cold of the Northern Empty is a different, kinder cold than what she knows. The frozen wastes of Garlemald are harsh and brutal, as eager to conquer and dominate as the empire that rose there. The snows of Ishgard and lonesome and severe, their saving grace the warmth of Coerthan hearths and the way they push strangers together. But here in Old Sharlayan the cold is light and airy, as magical as the northern lights winding their way across the heavens.

Thancred grunts in protest and lowers the mug.

“Something wrong?”

He looks away, expression soured as he observes a pair of Viera. Gleaners, by the looks of them—the uniform is unmistakeable, as are the packs on their backs. They could have been any couple—friends, colleagues, something else—if not for the small touches. Brushing hair off the collarbone, a hand on an arm. A lingering look, a small smile. An affectionate laugh, wholesome and private.

His eyes flick away, staring listlessly into the middle distance as the couple passes the Last Stand. “Bitter tea I can stand,” he says finally. “Bitter and cold tea, I could do without.”

She reaches for the mug, her fingers brushing the back of his hand as they pass by. Neither of them has had time to change; they are still in their travel clothes, which in his case means his usual kit—heavy coat, boots, armguards. The metal and leather are cold to the touch, but she can sense the warmth beneath. He tenses, stirred by her touch, an aching yearning hanging in the passing seconds before—  

The moment breaks.

Aureia exhales as her fingertips touch the porcelain, summoning a gentle ball of fire-aspected aether. It warms the mug in a brilliant blaze and puffs out. “There,” she says, lowering her hands and folding them in her lap. “Better?”

He catches her eye. In answer, he tilts his head back and drains the rest of the mug, finishing it off. He sets it on the table behind them (ignoring the mumbled protests and dirty eyes of the couple seated there), places two hands on the railing and leaps over it. He drops down the far side and lands on the stone walkway, his white coat flaring out around him.

Her mouth twitches. “Must you always play the part of the overdramatic fool?” she grumbles. “There’s a perfectly reasonable set of steps over there, you know.”

Thancred glances over his shoulder at her and smirks. “If we’re discussing dramatics, you’re not one to talk. Besides, this is the best avenue to avoid Dickon. I… suspect I may have caused offense. Earlier.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” He proffers a hand. “Shall we?”

She snorts with laughter, grinning from ear to ear. With an affectionate sigh, she pushes off the ledge and lands beside him, ignoring the strange looks they attract from passersby. Taking his hand, she loops her arm with his and allows him to pull her away, steering them down the path and away from the café.