#shiokaze hostelry

[sirensongsea]

Brunch with Dad

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Twenty-Four

Prompt: Bar Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Primam Chorus Word count: 545 Notes: Continuation of my 'What If' scenario

Master List

<- Previous (Taken)

Another excursion to Mount Rokkon, another day that meant being in Primam’s company. Nomin had come no closer to feeling like she learned much about Primam and her origins outside of the Echo she experienced, but she supposed that was fine for now. What had really been the most important part is that Primam’s rather unique usage of magic had saved Nomin’s hide more than once.

And so it was when they were back at the Shiokaze Hostelry that Nomin, while sitting at the bar, kept looking at the small bag that was slung against Primam’s side off and on. She was curious.

“You know…” Nomin started. “I don’t think I’ve seen someone use magic like you do.”

“... No?” Primam asked, thanking the tender as she was handed off her drink. Another glass of something non-alcoholic. After she took a small sip, she continued, “Is my brand of magic really that interesting?”

“In more than one way it feels like…” Nomin admitted. “I mean, it’s not often I see people able to use magic without a conduit or focus unless they’re healers of one kind or another. Even when I use my own red mage arts, I use a focus to channel my aether into. But…you don’t even use vocal components.”

Primam tapped a nervous finger against her cup for a moment, keeping up a pleasant expression on her face the best she could. She, too, also utilized the art of Red Mage. Much like Nomin, she also bore a Red Mage Soul Crystal that imparted upon her varying skills that Red Mages before her had developed over years -- that her mentor developed.

“More interesting are the flasks you use,” Nomin’s attention went again to Primam’s bag. This time it lingered.

Of course, noticing this, Primam moved her arm in a more guarded fashion upon her bag. She held it rather close, the contents within clinking lightly against one another. Loud enough to be heard faintly.

“What kind of Red Mage are you, exactly?” Nomin asked.

“Not a Crimson Duelist,” Primam replied. She seemed like she was about to let slip something else, but she kept her mouth closed.

“That much was obvious.” For a moment, Nomin’s tail flicked as she forced herself not to laugh. She returned her attention to her own copper cup, sipping the chilled water from it. “But…everything about you is a bit…” Strange. No, don’t use that word. “Well, it’s not common upon the star that I’ve seen. Can I ask how you do it?”

Primam relaxed her grip somewhat, a mild look of surprise on her face as she seemed to scrutinize Nomin. Returning her hands to the bar counter, Primam ran her thumbs over her cup’s surface as she held it. Only the soft murmur of chatter and the waves lapping at the docks filled the air for a time.

“Elemancy…” Primam began.

Nomin looked back over at her.

“It’s…It’s called Elemancy. And it’s a lot harder to do here than what I’m used to. But I can try teaching you.”

Was that a sliver of trust?

Nomin supposed that they had been helping Hancock with the Mount Rokkon excursions for a fortnight now.

Smirking to herself, Nomin took another swig of water. “I look forward to it.”

[astrology-bf]

The Pathos of Things

Chapter 1: In Spring Sunlight

General | WoL/Hancock | ~4.2k words | CW: Stormblood Spoilers

AO3 | Index | Next Chapter

“In these spring days when tranquil light encompasses the four directions, Why do the blossoms yet scatter with uneasy hearts?” Ki no Tomonori, ひさかたの Hisakata no

In the employ of the richest man in all Eorzea (and possibly all Hydaelyn) there was among the many gentlefolk a man who, though he was not of any noble birth, was favored beyond all the rest.

So great was the confidence invested in him by his master that the man was given charge of his affairs in the far lands beyond the eastern seas. They had their methods of communication, naturally, but the vast distance between Ul’dah and Hingashi meant the gentleman often had broad discretion when it came to executing his employer’s star-spanning plans.

If Lolorito Nanarito was something of a merchant-king, then young Hancock Fitzgerald was no less than a prince. And the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company was ever-dutiful when it came to securing the advantage of its chairman.

Such was the reason for his present heading: to the Shiokaze Hostelry, down by the docks of Kugane. It was a fair day, and though the last remnants of winter had faded into memory under a warm spring sun, the air still carried a light chill brought by a southwesterly over the Ruby Sea. Some of the city-goers found it pleasant, others muttered that it had no right to be so cold given the season... but all thankful that it kept the clouds over the Ruby Price from staining an otherwise pristine blue sky.

Ordinarily, Hancock liked to take his time on days like this. It was perfect for a stroll down to the markets, or through the gardens, or even simply taking in the salty air from the great bridge spanning the city’s center. But the direction of the wind ensured that those he had been tasked to greet on their arrival in Hingashi would almost certainly make port in timely fashion, and it was critical that Hancock be the first to greet them when they made landfall in the Far East. Haste was necessary.

Even so, the merchant chose to make his way on foot; taking a brisk but steady walk down through the market of Kogane Dori, rather than traveling by aetheryte to the Tenkonto Plaza. He’d left sufficient time for it, being easily able to calculate the time it took to disembark down to the minute (and the gil); and even if it was a bit of stolen pleasure, Hancock could justify the walk as giving him the chance to think.

It was an opportunity to run over the many facts that his nearly eidetic memory had gleaned from his employer’s dossiers regarding the Scions of the Seventh Dawn; facts with which he’d need to arm himself, if he had even the remotest chance of making his master’s hospitality more attractive than holding on to grudges - which were admittedly quite justified, if everything he'd read was true.

Hancock’s pace was even and his hands hung loosely at his sides as he passed by the clustering of people at the city's market boards. His eyes were hidden by his red-tinted spectacles, as always, masking his habit of frequently glancing to the sides with the occasional lingering of his gaze on passing folk of possible interest. To onlookers he merely had a calm and thoughtful look, though a few faint furrows could be seen etching his brow as he reviewed what might be useful.

Names, dates, places… even banal facts like preferred foods and what entertainment might be pleasing to them. They were certainly a curiously diverse group, based on the files: two Elezen prodigies from Sharlayan and grandchildren of Louisoix Leveilleur himself, an Ala Mhigan woman who had until recently been masquerading as her departed sister, a Lalafellin woman from Ul’dah who Hancock had been warned not to underestimate, and…

No less than the Warrior of Light, himself.

Hancock’s chin rose slightly as he crested the red-painted arch which bridged the two halves of the city. To his right, the graceful spire of the Tenkonto gleamed in cyan crystal as it acted as a beacon for those traveling by magic, while to his left the statue of Lord Zuiko shone with burnished verdigris under Azeyma’s radiant face. It was a sight he’d seen more than a hundred times before, but now it seemed a little fresher to him. Less a familiar vista, and more a sunlit prelude to an uncertain but exciting meeting with a myth made out of flesh, rather than carved in crystal or sculpted in bronze. A myth... but also a man.

The merchant’s mind began to loop upon the dossier of Ifan Kaleid as he descended from the bridge’s peak, lingering upon the details of his early life in Thanalan. An early life which coincided with his own, in terms of years, and though Ifan was raised outside the city proper he was for all intents and purposes Ul’dahn… just like Hancock. And, much like the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company, the Warrior of Light had within his calling obtained favor beyond all the rest - despite having no blood family to gift him rank or fortune. What he’d earned, it seemed, were the dividends of his own virtues, hard work, and a willingness to take a risk when the rewards were worth it. In short, Ifan’s life read like that of a man who Hancock Fitzgerald was more than a little keen to meet in person.

So keen, in fact, that his eyes began to drift away from where he was going.

Not far, but enough that his attention slipped and he failed to take notice of a man leaving the hostelry who paying even less attention to his heading than the gold-haired merchant. Hancock caught himself at the last moment, but he couldn't prevent his right shoulder from lightly colliding with the man's bicep.

The stranger let out a rough grunt, then turned an irate gaze towards Hancock.

“Watch it!” he snapped, issuing an irritated scoff. He was a local, by his garb, and one a little far into his cups if the color in his cheeks was anything to go by.

Hancock straightened up immediately as his expression shifted to a calm, respectful smile. He gave the man a polite bow at the waist, choosing not to point out that neither of them had been paying attention.

“Apologies, my good sir,” he said.

The man merely returned a sneer. He leaned towards Hancock with his lips parted, an insult clearly ready on his tongue… then paused as caught sight of the pair of sword-wielding men standing near the hostelry’s entrance. The blood-red cloth of their haori, made all the more vivid by their white hakama, was enough of a reminder.

Instead he gave a simple huff, and let his cursing go unvoiced as he eyed Hancock up and down contemptuously.

“…Ijin.” The word was dripping with barely concealed derision, made even more obvious by the curt nod the Hingan gave him before turning and departing.

Hancock bowed again, but both it and the brief frown which twitched its way across his face both went unnoticed. He didn’t dwell on it too long, however; he took in a slow breath, spared another moment to make sure his irritation wasn’t showing on his features, and then turned to make his way into the large, open entrance of his destination.

Shiokaze Hostelry was as busy as could be expected given the season and the time of day. The air was filled with both the smells and sounds of folk from nearly every corner of the Three Great Continents taking their ease, set against the salty breeze and distant cries of gulls wafting in from the establishment’s harbor-side entrance. Though most patrons went about their business on the hostelry’s ground floor, the upper floors were still busy with folk seated or standing… watching, too, from the high vantage point - as if the inn were in truth a disguised theater in the round.

But it was the group of foreigners who stood by the harbor-side entrance who immediately caught Hancock’s eye. Five of them, speaking among themselves as they gaze up in wonder at the hostelry: a pair of adolescent Elezen twins with pale hair and a preference for red and blue respectively, a Lalafellin woman wearing a red cap, a blonde Highlander with strong arms and scarlet attire, and a bearded, brown-haired Midlander arrayed in white.

Hancock let out a quiet sigh of relief and indulged a faintly smug cast to his smile at his good timing, before he descended to the ground floor of the hostelry and made his way towards the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

The Lalafellin woman - Tataru Taru, Hancock assumed - had her back turned towards him as she was speaking to one of the twins with an airy, teasingly dismissive tone.

“-and a tavern is a tavern, Alphinaud, here or anywhere else!” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to do what I do best.” Then she turned and, without looking, began to run at a brisk pace that almost took her directly into Hancock’s shins before she skidded to a halt.

Hancock’s smile vanished for a moment as he blinked behind his spectacles. His lips pursed, but then smoothly slid back into a polite expression as he once again chose not to dwell on nearly being run into for a second time that morning.

“A thousand pardons, my lady,” he apologized, offering Tataru a short bow at the waist before he straightened up. “The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I presume? I hope your voyage was not too trying.”

He followed his greeting with a light smile as he cast his eyes over each of the Scions, observing them in greater detail. It was simple enough to put names to faces, even if only by written description: besides Tataru, the Scions’ “receptionist”, the Highlander was certainly Lyse Hext, while the twins were obviously Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur.

Hancock was about to speak again, but the air escaped him silently as he laid eyes on the man in white standing beside Alisaie.

The Midlander - who could be none other than Ifan Kaleid, the Warrior of Light - stood with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised as he wordlessly stared back at Hancock. His bearded face was set in a faintly distant expression despite the obvious signs of curiosity at the merchant’s unexpected appearance. The other details went largely unnoticed, however, as Hancock found himself unable to avert his eyes from the dark blue of Ifan’s irises.

Yet ‘dark blue’ seemed insufficient to describe them. The color edged on grey in the same way as the vast expanse of the Ruby Sea directly behind Ifan; like indigo desaturated in white mulberry paper, or glazed cobalt overlaying porcelain. It had a mournful quality, however, seeming more likely to run into a stain of tears than remain coldly affixed upon ceramic or a page.

The grin on Hancock’s face widened by a fraction of an ilm as he watched Ifan’s eyes drift over him. That sodden well within his gaze was briefly stirred into a bright eddy of interest, and the prince of the East Aldenard Trading company felt a slight tightness in his chest at the way the Warrior of Light tilted his head… as if he indeed liked what his wine-dark eyes beheld.

It was Alisaie, however, who broke the awkward silence.

“…And you are?” she asked, cocking her head inquisitively.

Hancock nearly jolted as he blinked behind his spectacles, and sharply shook his head. “Ah, yes, of course! Forgive me,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hancock Fitzgerald, of the East Aldenard Trading Company, at your service. On behalf of Chairman Lolorito, I bid you welcome to Kugane and invite you to take refreshment at our local offices.”

He followed his greeting with another deep bow at the waist before he stood upright, and gave the Scions of the Seventh Dawn a rather fox-like grin; one made all the wider by the slightly horrified confusion on all of their faces.

“Lolorito?" Alphinaud said, nearly exclaiming. "I was aware his interests extended beyond the borders of Eorzea, but not so far as Kugane." The disbelief in his expression soon receded, however, and he frowned sternly back at Hancock as he crossed his arms. “Regardless, I am disinclined to accept the hospitality of grinning merchants,” he said, crisply. “Especially those who serve a master with whom we have such a difficult relationship.”

There was a pause as Hancock’s grinning eased into a teasing smile. He lightly threaded his fingers together in front of him, and gave the Elezen a respectful half-nod. “My my, such naked suspicion! I do hope that business with the Crystal Braves did not rob you of all faith in your fellow man," he said, airily. Then he tilted his head, and wiggled his chin faintly. "Or do you really think the chairman is plotting to drag you into another one of his grand schemes?”

Alphinaud blinked rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. He began sputtering, but Hancock’s attention was instead caught by the smirk Ifan was doing a poor job of hiding - much like Alisaie, who was whispering to him with equal amusement.

“I daresay Alphinaud has met his match…” Alisaie muttered, earning a barely audibly snicker from the Warrior of Light.

“I… beg your pardon?!” Alphinaud uncrossed his arms and glared up at Hancock indignantly. “If you are trying to win my trust, you are failing quite spectacularly.”

Hancock’s eyes returned to the young Elezen, and he was unable to conceal the chuckle in his voice. “Oh dear, have I offended you? Once again, I must apologize. Too much time in the Far East, you see. One is compelled to talk in circles around everything here, and one finds oneself longing for the invigoratingly candid speech of the Ul’dahn markets… though I see now that this is neither the time nor the place to indulge said longing.”

His words carried an air of affected wistfulness, though one which became genuine as his eyes went again to the magician. He saw now that Ifan wore a ring on his right finger, bearing the sigil of the tipping scales of Ul’dah. Hancock was sorely tempted to spend precious moments trying to recall if it had been recorded where the ring had come from, but the crest of Nald’thal’s city was itself a sufficient reminder of his task. So he straightened up, and gave Alphinaud a much more conciliatory nod.

 “…Might I suggest that we continue this conversation at the company offices?” he suggested. “Too many eyes and ears here, you understand. ‘Twould be decidedly reckless to say any more.”

He followed this with a quick canting of his head towards the upper levels of the hostelry, but the gesture and the warning seemed a touch too subtle.

Alphinaud answered with an imperious sniff. “If I may favor you with the invigorating candor you apparently crave,” he said, curtly, “it would be decidedly reckless to follow a man I neither know nor trust. Give me one good reason why we should accept Lord Lolorito’s invitation.” He crossed his arms again, and tilted his head while looking at Hancock expectantly.

Hancock grinned again. “Now there’s the young diplomat I was told to expect!" he laughed. "Very well, then, I shall explain.”

His grin settled, and he took in a slow breath as he stepped forward towards the Scions. When he spoke again, the coy amiability had been replaced by casual seriousness.

“You understand that you are come to a most reclusive and secretive nation, yes?” he asked, lowering his voice just a hair. “One whose borders are closed to foreign trade save at this single port?”

“Only the one?” Lyse asked, lowering her voice in turn.

Hancock nodded sagely. “Indeed,” he said. “So it should come as small surprise that a great many parties have vested interests here. Merchants like myself are a given, of course, but for every one of us you may be certain there is also an agent of a foreign government.”

He paused to let his words sink in. The indignation in young Master Alphinaud’s expression receded under realization, mirrored by the sudden shift to wariness in both Lyse and Alisaie’s faces. But Tataru seemed less surprised, and more sternly resolved; as did Ifan, who had closed his eyes in a look of weary frustration.

For whatever reason, Hancock felt his chest tighten again… though unpleasantly, rather than the headiness of when Ifan seemed interested in something. Nonetheless, he took in another breath before finishing his explanation.

“Many notable nations and empires have embassies here, you know. Including a certain Empire with whom you have such a…” Hancock paused again, searching for suitably diplomatic phrasing, then hummed mirthfully before mirroring Alphinaud’s earlier words. “…difficult relationship.”

After another long and awkward pause, it was Alisaie who again broke the silence: this time, with an irritated clicking of her tongue against her teeth.

“To paraphrase,” she said, as delicately as she could. “Kugane is teeming with Imperial spies, one or several of whom could now be listening to our every word.”

Hancock chuckled once and nodded gracefully at Alisaie. “Something to that effect, yes. Beneath this veneer of bustling trade a war for supremacy is being waged between world powers. One might say we are standing on the front lines… just not in public.”

Alisaie inhaled quietly through her teeth as she began glancing around, mirroring the wary looks that Alphinaud was trying not to be too obvious about.

“Imperial spies everywhere,” Lyse said, letting out an aggrieved sigh. “Great. Just… great.”

Though the ambiance inside the hostelry had barely changed since they’d begun their conversation, there was a distinct frostiness tainting the otherwise pleasant air. The Scions had their faces set in varying looks of watchfulness; all save Ifan, who had his gaze cast thoughtfully off to the side.

After a brief silence, he gave a nod before looking back at Hancock with a polite half-smile. “Would you give us a moment to talk it over, Master Fitzgerald?” he asked.

The smile Hancock returned was just as polite, but he couldn’t stop a slightly boyish tilting of his head at the look Ifan was giving him. “But of course.”

With that, he took a few steps back and turned to idly look around… but not quite far enough that his excellent hearing couldn’t pick up the Scions’ whispered conversation.

Ifan was the first to speak. “What do you think, Tataru?” he asked. “You deal with merchants the most out of all of us.”

“I don’t trust him one bit, and neither should you.” Tataru’s voice was nearly a hiss, making her displeasure evident.

A concurring hum left Ifan’s chest. “Not saying we should,” he agreed, “but we may not have a choice when it comes to accepting help. We’re at a disadvantage.”

“Indeed,” Alisaie said, voicing her agreement in turn. “I still have my doubts, but he may have a point. I say we accept his invitation… for now.”

There was a lapse in conversation, and Hancock spared a glance towards the Scions to see Ifan was looking at Alphinaud with a concerned frown. The young Elezen had his arms crossed again, and was looking at the floor with a pinched grimace on his face.

“…You all right, Alphinaud?” Ifan asked.

Alphinaud blinked as he was stirred from the mire of his thoughts, and looked up towards Ifan sheepishly. “…Forgive me. The mere mention of the East Aldenard Trading Company is enough to-“ The next few words came out as a mumble before he uncrossed his arms, took a breath, and then nodded up at the magician slowly. “I am fine, truly. You need not worry,” he said, offering a strained smile.

Ifan smiled back, though Hancock noted it was similarly strained. “Nothing to forgive. What do you think?” he asked.

The Elezen gave a quiet hum, mulling it over before issuing a resigned sigh. “At the very least, I cannot see the harm in at least hearing him plead his case. Alisaie has the correct idea,” he answered, nodding at his sister.

“Right, then. Seems we’re in agreement.” Ifan took in a deep breath and straightened up before looking at Alphinaud fondly, and reaching over to give his shoulder a light pat. “I’ll take the lead for now,” he said. “Just take a break.”

Alphinaud blinked, seeming to hesitate, but he voiced no protest. Instead, he gave Ifan an equally as fond and very grateful smile as he reached up to squeeze the back of the magician's hand and nodding back at him.

Ifan’s smile widened, and expression remained warm as he glanced at Lyse, Tataru, and Alisaie in turn before it settled back into that casual yet slightly distant look Hancock had first seen him with. He turned to face the merchant, casting his eyes over him once more, and then approached before giving Hancock a polite bow at the waist.

It was a far from perfect gesture, by Hingan standards, but Hancock nonetheless felt an irrepressible grin begin to creep across his features.

“Hancock, was it?” Ifan asked. His gaze settled on Hancock’s grin, and his cheeks rose in a soft look of mirth as another interested gleam danced through his eyes.

Hancock’s grin grew even further, and he indulged another moment of staring at Ifan from behind his spectacles before he returned an equally deep bow.

“At your service,” he greeted, his voice surging with enthusiasm. “And you must be Ifan Kaleid! Slayer of Gods, Rider of Dragons, Savior of Ishgard…”

The thrill within his voice started to fade somewhat as that unpleasant tightness pinched within his chest again. Every title seemed to cause the mirth in Ifan’s eyes and face to ebb away, so on a whim the merchant took in a light breath and gave the Warrior of Light a coy, teasing smile.

“… Stealer of Pants, if some of the more puzzling rumors are to be believed,” he finished.

Ifan blinked. There was a pause, and just as Hancock felt the urge to swallow nervously… Ifan snorted, and chuckled as he tried to hide a grin.

Hancock inhaled audibly as the pressure in his chest released. A giddy warmth began to prickle on his cheeks as he took in the sight of the magician’s face when it was lit up with humor, matching the light tingling in his ears at the musical but rough-edged sound of Ifan’s laughter.

The magician took in a slow breath to compose himself. He was still grinning slightly as he eyed Hancock up and down again, and his expression took on a teasing edge as he returned a sagely nod. “When they have pants to steal,” he replied.

Hancock blinked behind his spectacles as he tilted his head curiously. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Ifan returned a noncommittal hum before his face settled again. “You’ve the right of it, but just ‘Ifan’ is fine,” he said, inclining his head in a more casual greeting.

The merchant’s grin eased back into a polite smile as he nodded in turn. “Of course, Ifan. May I say what an honor and a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. I just know you and I are going to get along famously,” he said.

Ifan gave another chuckle. “Likely so,” he said. “You do seem fairly interesting, Hancock.”

Much as earlier, Hancock’s lips twitched briefly as he fought back an expression: but rather than a scowl, he struggled to hold down a dizzy half-grin at the way his name sounded with that rough edge to Ifan’s voice accentuating it. To say nothing of being called interesting by such a man.

But unlike earlier, it didn’t go unnoticed. Ifan’s eyes flicked downwards to Hancock’s lips, and the grin began forming anyway.

And it kept on growing, as the Warrior of Light began to smile at him in turn. That distant look, which had been weighing down his handsome face, now seemed itself far distant. The lightness in his eyes was as bracing to Hancock as seeing the expanse of the Ruby Sea from atop Kugane’s airship landing, and he felt ten thousand questions about Ifan’s life and thoughts start running through his head.

But his excitement soon found itself tempered. A light breeze from the hostelry’s port-side entrance drew his attention, and the sight of the four other Scions in his peripheral vision served to remind him that he had a task of utmost importance. Though it was difficult, the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company managed to pull his gaze away from the Warrior of Light's

Hancock composed himself with a light clearing of his throat, before casting his eyes at each of the Scions from behind his red-shaded spectacles.

“Now, then…” he said, gesturing towards the hostelry's city-side entrance. “Without further ado, allow me to escort you to the company offices. This being your first visit to our fair city, I shall make an effort to point out various landmarks along the way. If you would be so good as to follow me.”

[donovannovak]

Donovan Novak - Unearthed Courage [4.1]

Communication is hard. "Donovan, I don't understand what the issue is." Self-confidence is hard. "What if they look at my face funny?" Believing that everyone sees you as not a monster is hard. "What are you talking about? You're a good-looking man! I'm even talking to you, and that's saying something!" The ferryboat at the Shirogane docks swayed back and forth, waiting patiently for its one passenger to board. Donovan stood perplexed, running his finger over his stitched wrist, furrowing his brow as he wrestled with his mental block. The briny scent of the sea filled the air, cool against his skin, grounding him even as his mind raced. Pacing back and forth slowly, he turned toward the ferryskipper, "You're just one person. Kugane is another beast. It's an entire city of people." The skipper sighed, stepping onto the boat and gesturing towards the entrance. "Donovan, get on the boat."

It had been a month and a half since his revival at Tsch’s hands, and even now, talking to anyone else—anyone other than her or the ferryskipper—brought its own inner challenges. At home, he would look himself over. It was still him, yet somehow not: different skin tone, stitches across his entire body from head to toe. The most obvious of them all was his face. The thing was, people didn't care about appearance as much as he made it out to be in his head. Yet in the battle against his own thoughts, they always seemed to win. "Are you sure? I just... am concerned. Plus, I don't want to worry Tsch if something were to happen." He leaned against the ferry's mast, watching as the city came into view, sighing in conflict. "I... shit."

"Listen, kid, you're not some scary monster. Yes, you're very tall. Yes, your face is stitched together from god knows what, but who cares? Eorzea’s got every race and species under the sun, and Hydaelyn herself would bless every single one of them." The ferry pulled into the dock, and the skipper tied off the boat, stabilizing it before setting down the plank for him to cross. "Now, do whatever it is you got to do, but keep your chin up, kid. People here are nicer than you think." The skipper gave him a curt wave before turning back towards his ship for pre- and post-inspections, leaving Donovan to disembark on his weekly exploration of Kugane.

His feet carried him toward the Shiokaze Hostelry and up those fateful stairs to the plaza. His beanie brushed against his tousled hair, keeping his head warm as the chilly autumn breeze swept into the city, carrying fall leaves and the aroma of cinnamon in its midst. The city bustled to life, passersby carrying antiques, fragile cups, and miniature dragons towards the shopping district. His mind began to wander, unaware of his surroundings. "I should get her something... as a thank you."

Ever since that fateful night when the storm rolled in, Donovan's thoughts had been tangled with the memory of Tsch’s arms around him, her soft words breaking through the thunder's rage. He could still feel the faint traces of her warmth against his skin, the soothing circles she’d rubbed into his back as he clung to her. She’d whispered reassurances that the storm would pass, her voice low and steady in a way that struck a chord deep within him. It wasn’t just the comfort that lingered, though—it was the vulnerability she’d shown, a side of herself he hadn’t expected. For someone as fiercely independent as Tsch, it had felt monumental.

Now, every glance she spared him, every quiet moment they shared, seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t ignore. He would catch himself watching her—her nimble fingers at work, her graceful movements in battle or crafting—and wonder if she was aware of how often she crept into his thoughts. She had become the anchor tethering him to this new existence, her presence as constant as the rising sun, and yet he couldn’t help but feel undeserving of it.

"Oh!" What was that? Pulling him from his thoughts, his eyes darted left and right before traveling down to see a woman he'd bumped into. His face flushed. "I- I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I hope you can forgive me," he stammered, reaching his hand down to help the lady up from the ground.

A chuckle left the Kugane woman as she took the hand, dwarfing her own in size, and stood up from the floor. "It is quite alright! I wasn't paying attention myself." Dusting off her yukata, he saw a woman of short stature, with flowing red hair and piercing brown eyes. With a gentle smile, she leaned over to pick up her bag. "Apologies if this is forward of me, but you're extremely handsome. I hope to see you around more in Kugane, stranger." For a split second, her words hung in the air like a delicate, impossible thing. He couldn't help but laugh quietly to himself, unsure of how to process such a thing. "Did she mean it?" A sudden warmth spread across his cheeks as he turned and walked in the opposite direction, heading towards the Kugane Dori shopping district. "Good-looking, huh..." Maybe the skipper was right about the locals of Kugane after all.

The interaction continued to play in his mind as he made his way toward the bustling stalls lining the streets. Trinkets, delectable snacks, and stories filled the air. Wagemen left their shifts for a drink, children ran around playing tag, and older couples strolled leisurely, enjoying the day. The lively atmosphere tried to ground him, but the passing eyes from earlier lingered in his thoughts, sharp and pointed. "Are they staring at me?" His eyes grazing over the people that passed by, wondering what they thought of him. The words felt like an anchor dragging him under. The compliment faded as the usual insecurities rushed in. Were they laughing at him? Judging him? He could hear the bustle of the city, but it all felt distant, muffled. Furrowing his brow, he walked up to a nearby stall, his fingers absently fiddling with the trinkets.

Hovering by the stall, not really seeing the trinkets in front of him, but instead, feeling the weight of his own thoughts, his fingers grazing the objects in absent-minded patterns. Was he really looking for something to buy? Or was it a distraction, something to hold onto in the midst of his spinning thoughts? His gaze flicked to a small trinket before him—a small green plush lizard. Its eyes looked at him with such innocence, a softness that matched the way she had treated him. Something small, something unique, something that yelled Tsch. The negative thoughts tried to push back but were quieted by her, filling that space. "I think that she would like this a lot," he thought, his mind drifting back to her, surrounded by her army of stuffed animals.

A smile graced his features, deciding that this would be a good gift for her. It's small, yet it symbolized so much. Wanting to return to her side to give this to her, he paid for the plush and began making his way back toward the docks. As he crossed the bridge, the thoughts in his mind began to grow, widening his smile. "Oy! Donovan, was it?" A hand reached out, grabbing his arm to turn him toward whoever was calling him. "Oh, it is you! It's easy to pick you out of a crowd. It's me, Eric! I did your piercings a few weeks ago. I see they've healed up nicely." He adjusted his arm from the grasp, noting how close the man was to him.

"They have. Thank you again for taking time out to do them, even when you weren't on schedule." He gave Eric a curt nod, his smile fading as they continued to talk on this busy bridge. "Oh yeah, no problem! Hopefully this favor will put me under your friend's good graces. I've been trying to ask her out for months—always turns me down." Eric sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "She is a beauty though, isn't she?" His smile slipped entirely, replaced by a discomfort that knotted in his chest. The words sank in, and an unsettling feeling began to eat at him. Uneasy, he shifted his weight, eyes scanning the crowded bridge. "Yeah... she's very beautiful." It seemed as though everyone in Kugane knew her. He’d overheard her name countless times in the past few weeks—spoken with admiration and intrigue—and now… this.

What was this feeling?

The man continued to drone on about who knows what, but Donovan paid him no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind swirling with the words that Eric had casually tossed out. As the one-sided conversation dwindled, Donovan gave the piercer a stiff wave and turned to walk toward the skipper. Why did his words bother him so much? It wasn’t as if he was jealous… right? A scoff escaped his lips as he turned off the bridge, passing under the Shiokaze Hostelry once more. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in frustration. No, it couldn’t be jealousy. But what, then? What was this feeling gnawing at him?

His thoughts drifted to the time he'd spent with her since officially moving in. How she now brought him along to help gather materials or fight monsters. Even the quiet moments they shared, simply relaxing on the patio overlooking Shirogane beach, felt different now since that night. Lost in thought, he realized he had walked far without noticing, finding himself standing in front of the skipper. The plush was still clutched tightly in his hand, an odd comfort in the midst of his confusion. "You're back already? What happened?" The skipper's voice broke through his thought as he lowered the plank, but Donovan barely heard him. He boarded the ship in frustrating silence, the weight of his emotions feeling even heavier still.

With a push off the dock, the skipper turned the boat towards Shirogane, casting a quick glance at Donovan, clearly hoping for some insight into the noticeable change in him. "...I hate to ask this," Donovan said hesitantly, "but I'm curious. Has she ever brought anyone home before?" This question stunted the skipper as he shifted his weight, slowing down the ferry. "Aye, she's brought people around but never seen her fully commit to anyone." A beat passed, and Donovan turned his gaze toward the foggy mist covering the water, his mind struggling to process the skipper's words. "Very popular, that one is. Almost all of Eorzea knows about her. Even heard she's talked about intergalactically. Can you believe it? Other species on a different planet know about her. However, when she's back in Shirogane, she always seems to herself. Alone. Always wondered why."

Silence settled between them as the skipper steered the ferry slowly toward Shirogane. Donovan kept his gaze fixed on the sea, the soft rocking of the boat gradually soothing the storm inside him. As the dock came into view, his eyes fell to the plush in his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he tucked it into his pocket, deciding now wasn’t the right time to give it to her.

The skipper's words lingered in his mind: popular, well-liked, and admired by so many. It felt almost ridiculous to imagine he’d ever stand a chance if he tried. But since that night, something undeniable had shifted in him. She wasn’t just the remarkable woman who had brought him back to life—she was the center of every thought he couldn’t ignore. Her quiet strength, the way she carried herself with an effortless grace, made his electrope heart falter every time. He wanted to unravel her story, to uncover the small, hidden pieces that made her who she was. Yet no matter how many steps closer they seemed, she still felt untouchable, like a star just out of reach.

The ferry docked with a hard thud, jolting him from his thoughts. As he waved off the skipper and made his way across the dock toward the house, his mind buzzed with questions. "…Hmm." His voice was barely a whisper as he asked himself, "Do I even have a chance if I tried?" Slowly, he opened the front door, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the quiet. Inside, Tsch sat in the living room, calmly stitching something together. The storm of doubts in his head stilled the moment her gaze lifted to meet his. "Oh, welcome home, Donovan," she said softly, a small smile touching her lips before she returned her focus to her work.

That smile. Could it really be all it took to ground him? Closing the door quietly behind him, removing his beanie as he approached her tentatively. "Thank you. Can I ask—what are you working on?" Curiosity nudged aside the lingering doubts as he watched her hands glide effortlessly against the fabric. Those hands that had healed him, held him… drew him back from the fear that threatened to consume him. "I’m making a dress for a friend," she replied, her tone calm and measured. "Sadly, it won’t be ready in time for tonight, but that’s alright."

Before he could respond, the stuffed animals seemed to sense his presence. The sentient creations wandered up from downstairs, padding toward him like eager children. They circled his legs, nudging him with soft, almost affectionate prods. Tsch glanced up at the sight, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. "It looks like they’ve really grown attached to you since you’ve been here." Something about being in her presence eased the tension that had gripped him moments before. He couldn't deny the subtle, magnetic pull she seemed to have over him. "Speaking of this evening," she began, setting aside her work briefly, "I got invited to a party by one of our neighbors. I was wondering if you'd like to come along."

A party? Donovan hesitated, the idea turning over in his mind. This could be an opportunity—a chance to get better at talking to others, to start seeing himself as someone worth knowing, worth desiring, rather than something to be feared. After a moment, he nodded. "I’d be willing to go with you... but I’m worried." The shift in his tone caught her attention. Tsch shifted on the couch, crossing one leg over the other as her amber eyes studied him. "Worried about what?" He stepped closer, careful not to tread on the stuffed animals weaving around his feet. His hand rose hesitantly, pointing to his face. "What if people see me as a monster? As... scary? What if they don’t like me?"

Tsch tilted her head, her gaze soft as it traced the stitches lining his face, down to the ones holding his neck together. "Donovan, I can promise you, no one will see you as a monster. You're unique in your own way." Her voice was calm, steady, as if she were trying to root him in the certainty she felt. "Take me, for example. I have a tail and all these scales, yet no one in Eorzea thinks twice about it. This star is home to so many different kinds of people—diverse in ways you can’t even imagine. I once felt just as you do, but I can promise you, they won’t see you in any negative light." She offered him a small, reassuring smile, hoping her words could ease the weight of his fears.

Reassurance wasn't her strong suit, but she could see how his tone shifted when he spoke about his appearance. How his shoulders tightened. How he avoided her gaze. She wanted to help, even if she wasn't great at it. Standing up to meet him halfway, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I promise. And if they do? I'll fight them for you." A soft laugh escaped her lips, easing him even more than the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. "I believe you would," he said, his smile playful, "but please don't fight on my behalf... though I wouldn't mind it." He gave her a smile that was unexpectedly inviting, and she found herself looking at him a little longer, as if noticing a change in him—something subtle, yet undeniable, stirring quietly in the back of her mind.

"No promises on that one." Pulling her hand away with a chuckle, she moved back to the couch to finish her work. "Oh! Just to let you know, I made you a set of clothes if you were planning to come tonight. I hope you like them. They're in the bathroom." He nodded, offering a quiet, "Thank you," before excusing himself to go change. But instead of heading straight to the bathroom, he lingered in the hallway, his gaze drifted back to her as she worked on the dress. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her—those hands that he seemed to idolize, working meticulously yet effortlessly against the cloth. She seemed so focused, the world around her fading away. With a deep breath, he turned and slipped down the hall to the bathroom. As the door clicked shut behind him, he leaned against the sink and let out a quiet chuckle. "You've got it bad, Novak," he muttered, shaking his head before peeling off his clothes and stepping into the shower.

Taking time to linger in the shower’s warmth, he finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He approached the bathroom counter where the clothes she made lay neatly folded. His hand grazed over the meticulous stitching and the metallic chain attached to the slacks, tracing the fine details with quiet admiration. Her craftsmanship was remarkable, but more than that, these felt like more than just clothes. There was something personal woven into them, something that made him feel as though she had put a piece of herself into every stitch, more than he had realized.

Meanwhile, Tsch finished the last stitches of the dress and set it aside for the evening. Buoyed by the pep in her step from their earlier chat, she got up from the couch and made her way down the hall toward her room. She paused at the bathroom door, left slightly ajar, curiosity getting the better of her. Unable to resist, she leaned in for a quick peek—and through the small opening, she caught a fleeting glimpse of him.

For a brief moment, she saw Donovan, his back to her, standing shirtless in front of the mirror, freshly emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. And then—just for a fleeting second—she caught sight of his chest, his nipple piercings catching the light from the bathroom. When had he gotten those? Her gaze snapped away almost immediately, her breath catching in her throat. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and her heart skipped a beat. She quickly moved on, trying to shake the image from her mind, but the warmth of it lingered.

After spending time applying her makeup, fixing her hair, and marveling at her appearance in the mirror, Tsch felt a mix of pride and nervous anticipation. She couldn’t quite place where the nervousness was coming from, but it lingered all the same. Meanwhile, Donovan was doing much the same, standing in front of his reflection as he carefully accented his outfit with a silver Cuban link chain and matching rings he’d bought earlier in the week. This felt like the perfect occasion to wear them—especially with the tailored clothes she had made for him, each piece fitting better than he could have imagined.

With a smile tugging at his lips, Donovan stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a fitted black-striped dress shirt tucked neatly into matching slacks that accentuated his frame. The warm, earthy scent of sandalwood lingered in the air as he ascended the stairs, his steps unhurried. When he reached the top, he paused, noticing she wasn’t there yet. His thoughts began to wander, imagining what she might be wearing tonight. Would it be something simple and understated to avoid drawing attention? Or perhaps something elegant and bold? The possibilities played in his mind until his musings abruptly stopped. He saw her—and suddenly, he had his answer.

The green tones of her elegant dress complemented her soft brown skin, the fabric clinging in all the right ways. Her long, flowing hair framed her face like silk, captivating him as it always did. And then his eyes caught something new—the tattoo on her back, something he hadn’t known about. She looked ethereal. Beautiful. Her steps slowed as she neared him, stopping just close enough to make his chest tighten.

"You look... very handsome, Donovan. The dress shirt and slacks suit you perfectly," she said, her gaze drifting over him in a way that made his pulse quicken. His own eyes traced hers before he found the words. "And you look beautiful, Tsch." It was an understatement. So many thoughts raced through his mind, things he wanted to tell her but couldn’t bring himself to say. Not yet. As she moved past him toward the door, her voice broke the silence. "Ready to go?"

He so desperately wanted to stop her, to pull her back and tell her everything—how he felt, how he saw her, how she had begun to redefine the world for him. But the words stayed locked in his throat, his cowardice weighing heavier than his heart. Instead, he offered her a smile, reached for the door, and held it open for her. "I'm ready indeed."

Chapter 4 Part 2 Here

[diamondangelkitten]

WolStinien Week Day 8: #estinienday

Alinea and Estinien had been having a wonderful time recuperating after Ultima Thule. When she heard that they would be needed to go to Tural, she made certain that she treated Estinien to a day just for him.

She arranged for the journey to Kugane, where they spent the morning roaming the markets for anything Estinien may have wanted. He tried to argue that she didn't have to pay for everything, but he soon realized that she was going to be very stubborn about it.

They made a trip in the afternoon to go to the Steppe and help with some hunts there, before they came back to the city for dinner and the evening. Alinea had arranged for his favorite, dried squid, as well as some other specialities, to be served at the Shiokaze Hostelry.

After talking another stroll and watching the sunset from one of the bridges, Alinea had informed Estinien of the jumping puzzle that existed on the Hostelry. She took him to the start of the puzzle and proceeded to do the first few steps, expecting him to follow. He instead quirked a brow and dragoon jumped all the way to the top. He could hear her curse at him and laughed the whole time while he waited for her to make her own way up "correctly".

After that, she had treated him to the Hot Springs, eventually making their way over to a more private, secluded area. There, they just relaxed under the sea of stars, content in spending time with only each other.

Eek! My brain was not fully working this morning! Huge shoutout again to @halikyon for the text bubbles in the last 3 images! Thank you so much for helping my characters and pictures come to life!! Also, thank you for the carbrary poses.

[dawnslight-aegis]

21. grave

Estinien sighed as he stared down at the list in his hand, comparing the messily-scrawled kana on the parchment to the signs around the market. 'Twould be a great deal easier on his barely-functional grasp of Hingan if the woman who had written the damned list was close at hand to translate the last few ingredients they needed, but Marz had disappeared sometime between buying herbs and arriving at the fruit stalls, leaving him to decipher her handwriting on his own. 

Finally making an educated guess that the last entry was what Eorzeans knew as a mango, he had a few sent to the Shiokaze Hostelry with the rest of the supplies they'd procured.

Why he had been wrangled into accompanying her on a trip across the star for what amounted to grocery shopping, when the twins or Kaede could have kept her company just as easily, Estinien did not know, but it was often easier to go along with Marz's whims than fight them. Besides, Mor Dhona had grown quite dull over the past moon, and he welcomed the chance to stretch his legs, so to speak.

Their task concluded, the dragoon turned his attention to finding his erstwhile companion. Fortunately xaela were not much more of a common sight in Kugane than they were in Eorzea, and he was able to pick up her trail as it led from a flower stall to the nearby waterfront. After that, all he had to do was look down, and he found her easily, small dark form curled in on itself on the edge of a pier, her calves half-submerged in cold salt water.

A single jump had him landing on the wooden slats behind her, but she did not stir at the sound as she stared out to the west, towards the unbroken horizon of the Ruby Sea.

When his shadow fell over her, she finally spared him the briefest glance before returning her attention to the bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Have I ever told you how my tribe buries their dead?"

The morbid question caught him briefly off guard, but then several things began to slot neatly into place – Marzanna's sudden desire to cook one of her family's traditional meals for the Scions, the insistence that it be today, and the necessity of coming all the way to Kugane just for the correct ingredients. Grief was what was pushing her forward today, which made even her preference for his company over the others' make sense.

Very few people knew what it was like to lose both everything and everyone that made you who you were, to be the last person left to remember.

So he sat down on the pier next to her, unlacing his boots and setting them aside with his lance, rolling up the cuffs of his trousers to dangle his feet in the water next to hers, the way he used to do on warm summer days as a boy. "No. You haven't."

She idly ran her fingers over the petals of the orchids, voice quiet. “My people believe that the ocean and the sea of souls are connected, and to return a body to the water is to return their soul to the great flow, as well. And that when we touch the sea, our ancestors are all around us. So to do that, we bind their bodies with reed ropes, adorn them with shells and flowers, say the words, and then take them to rest at the seafloor, weighed down with stones so they do not return to us too soon.”

‘Twas a far cry from Halone’s halls, indeed, but it struck him as kinder, as well. No great deeds or valour required, no fear of the seven hells to separate one’s kin. No graves to visit, though, save the ocean, which was cradle as well.

She paused for long enough that he thought perhaps she was waiting for him to respond, when the words wrenched themselves free. “I ran out of flowers by the time I buried my mama. Orchids were her favorite. I wish I’d been able to do it right.”

The grief in her voice was palpable, painful. It had been bad enough, to find his parents, his little brother, his entire village lost to stone and flame – he hadn’t had to bury them himself. The Temple Knights had seen to that. He’d had somewhere to go, as much as he’d loathed the city at first. There were people who knew his story, if not his face, but Marzanna…

How many dozen of corpses had she had to swim to the seafloor, in the wake of what the Garleans did to her people? How long had it taken her? He couldn’t fathom the exhaustion, the way something so brutal must have become banal in the repetition.

And then to come to Eorzea after, to leave her lost tribe for foreign shores, where there was no one who looked or sounded like home – well. ‘Twas a small wonder she had been so angry, when they’d first met. Angry enough that even Nidhogg took notice, despite there being not a drop of Ratatoskr’s blood in her veins.

Were he anyone else, he might have given her empty platitudes, about how he was sure her mother forgave her for being unable to attend to the rites the way tradition dictated, but Estinien knew better. Such words did nothing to assauge the guilt of the living, only breathing life to resentment. Instead, he nodded. “Next time, we should bring some Nymeia lilies, as well. If you think should would have liked them.”

The Spinner’s favorite flower, which he had left at too many graves – the memorial at Ferndale, the gates of Azys Lla, the depths of Sohr Khai – it wasn’t Marz’s people’s tradition, but Eorzea was part of her now, too. Perhaps if the flowers reached her mother, the woman’s spirit would be gladdened to see that Marz had found herself a new family.

“I… Yeah. Okay. That sounds… nice.” The side of Marz’s head rested lightly against his upper arm, and they sat there in silence for long moments, as the sun disappeared beneath the waves, the crimson of sunset fading into the violet of dusk. When no sliver of sunlight remained, Marz dropped the bouquet into the water with a murmured invocation to Nhaama and a “happy nameday, mama,” before rising to her feet. One small, tattoo’d hand curled around his shoulder as she used him for balance to put her sandals back on. By the time they were secured, the melancholy was nearly buried again, in whatever grave in her heart she normally kept it. “C’mon. We should get back, if I’m going to make dinner. It may be morning in Mor Dhona, but some of the dishes take a few bells.”

Estinien rose, picking up his boots in one hand and lance in the other, shadowing Marz back to the Hostelry. “Dare I ask what you’re making?”

A small smile, not quite one of her usual grins, but more genuine than he’d expected, brightened her face. “It’s a surprise. Though, in case you were wondering – I did buy some squid, just for you. As repayment for coming with me.”

“Oh, aye? You might have mentioned that sooner, you know.”

“What, and miss out on you grousing about carrying my groceries for me?” Her husky voice tilted more towards teasing than anguish, and Estinien accepted the jab with a small, half hidden smile as they collected their provisions and set out for the aetheryte, and from thence to Eorzea.

Home, for both of them.

[rados-things]

Au Ra April day 5 - Your Favorite Place

Rayla could spend all her time at the Bokaisen Hot Springs in Kugane, watching hundreds of travelers coming through the Shiokaze Hostelry.

[ffxivxd]

The Shiokaze Hostelry is a favored location for merchants, dockworkers and foreigners alike. Guests can dine on Eastern seafood cuisine and sip on the fine rice wine of Koshu.

[purple-link]

Alisaie and Purple Link

FFXIV Write 2024 Story Entry

Spoiler: Story takes place after WoL reaches Garlemald in Endwalker, but but before the Tower of Babil dungeon. Story will be largely sfw, but will adhere to FFXIV's level of mature storytelling.

Chapter 15: The Wolf Burglar

The Wolf Burglar was at odds with himself. Not that he couldn’t decide which side to pick in an instant.

If he had to pick between liberty and anarchy, liberty would win hands down. There was no reason for him to be fighting against Lord Hien, and his heart told him he would rather be with him than with Akimitsu.

However, there was one small problem with that dilemma.

He was relatively well known in Doma, and could walk freely. While his thievery did not stop at Kugane, most people in Yanxia, and most of Othard, were spread thin enough that his actions were either not noticed or cared for.

They merely passed it off as an act of charity.

Not that the Wolf Burglar ever stole from the poor. There had been very few cases where those destitute had to suffer for somebody in an even worse state to survive, but such judgement calls were on such a thin slice of blade, either party couldn’t be too upset.

Still, he hated to make those judgement calls, and this one was one of the biggest.

He had to figure out a way to help Lord Hien to conduct a ceremony that would put in yet another good word to the Lupin, while also catering to the Lupin who wanted the ceremony to cease.

In doing so, the conflict can start again, and the Lupin would have a chance to defend themselves, after years of seeming domestication.

But domestication was a matter of perspective. The Wolf Burglar was a pup of nine years before his parents were taken from him.

The thing he remembered most was the love his parents had for him, and how hard they fought to protect it.

His Lupin parents were caring and considerate. He felt his bond stronger because of their race.

However, because of the Garlean occupation, matters were taken into their own hands. He learned enough about his race to make a decision about it, or attempt to be loyal to it, but not enough to care about it.

When his parents died, that was it, there was nothing more for him in Doma.

After traveling despondent for a few months, he eventually found himself in Kugane, and what a sight it was to behold!

The first thing that struck out to him was the size of the Shiokaze Hostelry. While the establishment inside was mildly appealing, with its Hingashi stylings and lively customers, the building itself was stately and gave an intimidating presence.

Only the structure at Heaven-on-High was taller than this, and he had seen no other! That did little to diminish the rest of Kugane’s iconic landmarks.

The airship landing inside Kugane Ofunakura bore and bid farewell to many a traveling airship, large vessels carrying hundreds of people at times.

The statue of Zuiko bore the image of a great samurai riding his loyal steed. The Wolf Burglar cited this as one of the first moments that inspired him to study the katana.

The Kogane Dori, a market with many vibrant eastern cuisines and products. There was no shortage of eccentricity here! Everything was weird, and cool, and he wanted more of it!

The relative price of the items, on the other hand, were a little less appealing. Not only was the gil pricing high, but they were dealing with something called Koban, of which he carried naught.

He soon found it pretty difficult to survive in Kugane.

For him, luck found his way into a home by the way of a kindly samurai.

It had occurred to the young wolf that a beastman like him had not been kindly received, and while many beastmen were around to prove otherwise, not the least of it was those silly catfish-people, the Namazu, his appearance even as a pup was rather intimidating.

His adoptive father considered otherwise. As he found himself the target of prejudice in Kugane, this samurai raised him and taught him the sword, as if he were his own.

By doing so, the samurai had hoped that by treating him like an equal, others would treat him the same, and it largely proved successful.

He was underselling his own Samurai skills; at one point his father mentioned he could survive well enough on his own under the age of 18.

This was such a validation for him, he started to go out and socialize, more and more. People were starting to get used to him, and for the longest time since his parents had died he was happy.

He thought no more of Doma, it’s Garlean occupation, and the will of the Lupin.

He could be happy, living a life of luxury and independence, right here, in one of the most opulent cities in Hingashi.

Unfortunately, by the time he became an adult, his father started to feel his age.

As they traveled, to get a hold of new changes in Kugane, not the least of which was rising prices everywhere, they started wearing their katanas at all times.

Not only that, but a rash of burglaries were starting to pop up.

Unbeknownst to his father, he had been naturally good at picking up skills in lockpicking and sneaking around.

His ability to leap, to hear farther, and to smell scents no human would be able to pick up, it all gave him an edge that didn’t come naturally to hyur and their equivalents across different species.

There was nothing to compare to the beastman.

The Lord Bugyo of the city allowed wily merchants to take advantage of the citizens of Hingashi, and the Sekiseigumi, the city's police force, seemed complicit in their dealings.

The Sekiseigumi dealt harshly with criminals and reprobates, especially if you were foreign. Since the Wolf Burglar was naturally from Doma, this complicated matters a tad.

But he knew, as long as he could help his father to survive in these changing climates, it would all be worth it.

This all came to a head when, four years previous, an unscrupulous merchant by the name of Akebono, who had made a name for himself by collecting rare objects and making suspiciously lucrative profits, took a shine to his father’s prized possession: the Soboro Subehiko.

It was a black-sheathed katana, with an attractive, if not simple, metal handguard, and the silver shape of a diamond inlaid within the black hilt. Nothing to write home about, but in his father’s hands, it was like wielding a paintbrush.

The cost of living for his father suddenly rose to astronimic proportions, to the point where he had to sell his sword to make payments, ones that eventually cost him his life over time.

There was no doubt in his mind that the merchant Akebono was the one responsible for this treachery, and as he discovered more of the underpinnings of the economy of Kugane, he realized a deeper threat that was at play: there was no economic balance in the city.

Lives were at stake, people’s families were spread thinner and thinner by these overinsisting merchants, and any action taken against them would result in unjustly being arrested by the Sekiseigumi.

There was no justice to be had here, he thought.

The realization curdled in his stomach, until he realized the solution was right there, all along, within his furry paws.

He would be the one to bring justice to Kugane.

Years would pass, and the legend of the Wolf Burglar spread, to the point that even the middle class was praising his epithet. He joined a group of bandits underneath Kugane’s city streets that all agreed on one thing: the prosecution of the Sekiseigumi was unjust, and the people suffered for it.

So they all dedicated their lives on giving the spoils to the people. And for years, the Wolf Burglar happily put his life on the line, to give to those in need.

However, there was one prize that the Wolf Burglar treasured the most, and one that he hoped would soon emerge as his most important task yet: the retrieval of his father’s blade.

This meant bending his rules a little, and as the moment of truth arrived, he found himself embroiled in the plot. Eventually, he became the Sekiseigumi’s number one target.

That’s when he took up with the Warrior of Light himself…and a rather daft investigator, but enough about that guy.

With their help, they were able to get his father’s sword back, one that he was now wearing, as they flew above the landscape over the Azim Steppe.

All the work, he thought to himself, all that energy spent, to have a family.

Just for it to be destroyed.

He had no love for his native home, or his adoptive home, and now he was risking both.

How did that make sense?

Why did he feel like he was a pawn, when all he really wanted was to take control of the situation?

Sure his skills with the katana and his occupation as a thief made it pretty easy to circumnavigate the political aspects of living, to enrich those who suffered against it, but it continuously had the nagging feeling like he wasn't even making a dent.

His advice as a guide made it pretty easy to get the artifact from the Garlean ship, but since then, he’d been thrown from one end of the planet to the other, expecting others to understand him and his motivation.

Truth of the matter was, he was still trying to figure that out for himself.

Lord Hien made a pretty good point, but if there was going to be any true justice, something had to be done to ease the burden off of families trying to survive.

His sympathy for the Lupin brought him to Akimitsu’s footpaws.

When he promised him the riches of their robberies, the Wolf Burglar couldn’t help but grimace. Most of this money could have been used for infrastructure or administration, but instead, they’re using it to take advantage of Lord Hien.

But then, what was the point of it all?

What could Lord Hien promise that couldn’t immediately be dissolved by the implication of their increasing crimes?

Was that freedom?

Was that worth fighting for?

When the Kugane merchants took his father’s life, and threatened to destroy other families, that didn’t sound like the kind of justice that Lord Hien was peddling.

Something had to be done, to break the cycle, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of a thing. His mind suddenly went blank as they landed at the edge of the Dawn Throne.

Purple Link hadn’t been watching him the whole trip, but he would occasionally look at him with a sense of worry and caution.

While he didn’t like or understand the implications of the Wolf Burglar still working with them, he couldn’t have been happier for his help.

His mind turned to sympathy as they landed and looked over the surrounding landscape.

“I think…” said Alphinaud, “...if we split up, we can talk to the Mol, while others can look elsewhere for clues, possibly Reunion, to start.”

“Are you okay?” said Purple Link, as he put a paw behind the Wolf Burglar’s back.

He turned swiftly to the big cat, but he didn’t seem offended by the gesture. He anxiously pulled his ears back and grinned meekly.

“Not at all,” said the Wolf Burglar, “But I think I’m fine where it matters. It’s merely personal troubles.”

“I can understand that,” said Purple Link, “Personal matters is part of the reason why I left my home in the first place.”

“You weren’t originally from Eorzea?” asked the Wolf burglar, and then thought about it, “Oh, right, you were previously a miqo’te. I guess it couldn’t have been as easy as if to leave the Hrothgar homeland.”

“That’s partially true,” said Purple Link, “I think, what matters is, you’ve gotta live your own life. If that means keeping your council about your past, that’s not something I’m going to dig into."

“I appreciate the thought, but I know that’s not how you operate,” said the Wolf Burglar, putting a hand on his hip, “You wouldn’t have gotten as far as to be giving aid to Garlemald if you weren’t digging into their past, all gentle-like.”

“You mean, talk to the Qestir, too?” said Alisaie to Alphinaud, “The au ra who don’t want to talk because ‘words are a form of lying at its foundation?’”

“I wish I could dig into your past,” said the Wolf Burglar, “But I’m afraid it would be hypocritical of me.”

“I appreciate that, sincerely,” said Purple Link, kindly, “But if you ever want to bare your soul, I’m here to be a shoulder for you to lean on.”

“We need to talk to everyone,” said Alphinaud, importantly to his sister, “This territory is older than the wars fought in Doma. It will have the most substantive information we can gather, even if it’s merely peripheral.”

“Do you mean that?” asked the Wolf Burglar to Purple Link. The big purple cat nodded.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do,” said Purple Link, “I was never the kind to force my beliefs onto anyone, ever, not even in Garlemald. I only want to see everyone getting along.”

“Ideals like that tend to get one killed,” said the Wolf Burglar, “But I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought that once or twice as I grew up. I’m hoping that I can reignite that within myself.”

He wiped away a tear and then turned to the big cat.

“I will do as much for you, under one condition,” said the Wolf Burglar, “That when it comes time for me to let my feelings out, you do the same, so that I won’t feel like I’m only giving.”

Purple Link grimaced slightly, but a promise was a promise. He reluctantly agreed.

“I…I guess,” said Purple Link, “I think I can agree to that.”

“Don’t think,” said the Wolf Burglar, furrowing his brow, “What is your answer?”

Purple Link didn’t waste any time.

“Yes,” said Purple Link, “I promise.”

“Hey, are you guys going to be looking for this ceremonial grounds with me, or am I going to have to do it myself?” said Alisie, candidly.

To be continued…

[godsgamefreak]

FFXIVWrite2023 - #18 A Fish Out of Water

OCs: Naomi Yukana

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

Naomi has left her home to travel across the ocean and go on an adventure in a brand new land.

“It’s just an entirely different continent you’ve never been to before, how bad could it be?”

Having just disembarked from the ship bearing her from her home of Doma, Naomi looked about the port, a small settlement on the coast. It was covered in sand, but not the sand of the rivers or even the oceans of the Ruby Sea, but a dry and dusty sand. She knew only the name of the port - Vesper Bay of Thanalan - having otherwise no bearings on the strange land known as Eorzea. What she did know was not to trust anyone, having made as many inquiries as possible in Kugane before boarding her ship. One of the crucial things she had learned was that they did not use koban in Eorzea, but their own currency known as gil. As such, she had traded all she had for a pouch of gil, and if there was one thing she could trust, it was greed.

Well, back home, honour would have done as well, but she didn’t know Eorzeans, and it was better to be careful. Much of what she knew came from the Garleans, who called them savages, practically monstrous. Not that she trusted them any more than she did the Eorzeans scattered about the square of this settlement. They had conquered her home nation after all, and had no intentions of leaving them be. It was one of the reasons she had been so insistent on leaving, though she was still surprised her parents had allowed it.

“Enough musing,” Naomi muttered to herself. “I need to figure out where I am… and where to go.”

Crossing her arms, she scanned the settlement, catching someone heading out of an open door that led to a place filled with tables, and no small amount of chatter. In Kugane the best place to get information was either the inn - of which none seemed to exist here in Vesper Bay - or the tavern Shiokaze Hostelry. It was where most of the travelers came through, so those providing services had to know the comings and goings. Determining her logic sound, Naomi confidently strode through the door.

Sure enough, it seemed to be a small tavern of some sort, clearly the place was meant to only host people for a short stop on their way to larger settlements. Behind the bar was a man keeping an eye on things, and in this case, that meant the foreign stranger who just walked through.

“Ain’t seen someone like you before,” he said with a strange and heavy accent as Naomi approached.

“Nor have I,” she replied honestly.

The man snorted in amusement, but couldn’t argue.

“I’m wondering if you could provide either a map or at least directions to the settlements nearby,” Naomi asked when no response looked likely.

The man rubbed his chin. “Well, finding yourself a little lost, eh? Well-”

“Not lost,” Naomi cut in. “Can’t be lost if you don’t have a destination, I’m looking to choose one.”

This time the man laughed. “Well then! Fair enough. The road out of town to the East will lead you up to a large cavern and through that, to Horizon. It’s a big enough place on its own, but if you want something even bigger, you can keep heading past there and on to Ul’dah, it’s our capital city.”

Naomi nodded and dipped her hand into her pouch, producing a few gil. While she didn’t know directly how the currency worked, she could at least do the basic math that happened when she exchanged coins in Kugane. She erred on the side of caution and grabbed a few more, placing them on the bar.

“I thank you, and would ask if you had any further advice to give, since you seem so knowledgeable?”

Eyebrows raised, the bartender swept the money into his own pocket. “Well, to be direct, you might wanna cover up a little. Can’t say people ‘round here will be used to seeing horns and scales that like what don’t belong to an Amalj’aa. Not that you bear them brutes much resemblance, but it may be wise to stay cautious, eh?”

This name was wholly unfamiliar to Naomi, and had no idea what these “Amalj’aa” could possibly be. It disheartened her to consider needing to cover her horns and tail, but she nodded and thanked the bartender regardless. Heading back outside, and getting her bearings, Naomi headed to a nearby stall that was selling fabrics. A few more gil lighter, she had easily found a headwrap that accommodated the covering of her horns, and a robe that covered her tail.

She didn’t have a map, and this place was still strange to her, but she had a path. Vesper Bay, East to Horizon, South to Ul’dah. The capital city. Knowing how wondrous her home of Doma was, what majesty awaited her in a foreign capital? The excitement of her adventure beginning to settle in, Naomi started off, heading into the large tunnel that led up to the rest of Thanalan.

[sylviazem]

FFXIV Write 2023- Prompt #19: Weal

What was the point anymore?

Sakiko often sat atop Shiokaze Hostelry and contemplated the question. With the fall of the Garlean Empire, there was hardly a need for a rampaging vigilante. Revenge had been her driving force for so long, surely this should have brought her closure, yet there was...nothing. No catharsis, no triumphant ending.

Only a dog with no hares left to hunt.

"Sakiko...How many times are you going to come up here and do absolutely nothing?"

"...I", she sighed deeply. "I don't know. It's calming here, at least."

"Saki-chan...I know you don't like my unsolicited advice, but...have you really thought about your feelings? Or are you just wallowing in misery..?"

"...Feelings?"

"You don't have to listen to me, of course, but I'm just-"

"My...feelings", she slowly stood up. "Me. I did it for...me. To have a future, and to be-"

"Oi-", Yamamura was caught off guard by how fast Sakiko bolted into motion. "D-did you figure something out?!"

She feverishly jumped and climbed down the tower, with a landing that elicited gasps from the surrounding passers by. With a singular determination, she sprinted towards her destination: the only door she knew would open for her. Out of breath, she knocked.

"...Sakiko..?" The familiar, kind face of Momoko greeted her when the door opened. "My, it's been a while since I've seen you around...Is something the matter? You look exhausted."

"Momoko, ma'am", she tried to catch her breath. "I...Would you like to go on a date with me?!"

"Oh my!", Momoko covered her mouth in surprise. "This is very sudden, Saki-chan..! I don't really know what to say, I-I haven't...dated anyone for many, many years."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pressure you, of course", Sakiko bowed deeply. "I simply realized...you have been the only weal in my endless sea of woes for the past few years. You've looked out for me, nursed me to health when I've been reckless more times than I can count. I owe you everything. I want to be with you, and see what the future I've fought for holds for us."

"Sakiko...", Momoko lifted Sakiko's head with her hand. "Would you...like to come in for dinner? If that will do for a date."

"...Yes, ma'am!" For the first time in a long while, Sakiko smiled and laughed. "Absolutely!"

[aetherial-seas]

Location: Shiokaze Hostelry, Kugane Zone: Hingashi Coords: 11, 10.2

Notes

Even though it’s a busy area, this hostel makes for a great RP spot for anything from casual meetups to more clandestine deals over a glass of sake.

Tons of tables and chairs over the space of three floors, packaged in the clean minimalism Hingashi aesthetics is known for.

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Nineteen

Prompt: Taken Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Primam Chorus, Tandem Chorus (brief, Echo) Word Count: 843 Notes: Non-canon to Nomin; more of a 'what if' scenario based on RP I had in the past regarding Primam and how I'd imagine Nomin and Primam interacting and really meeting one another.

Master List

Next (Bar) ->

Murmurs and the sound of ocean waves filled the open atmosphere of the Shiokaze Hostelry. An occasional cry of a seagull pierced the chatter.

Nomin stared at the woman before her for a long time, her brow furrowed and her lips pulled taut into a line. She could feel the rising nervousness from the woman. After all, Nomin had been able to tell that the woman was weaving a lie: a well-practiced one, but a lie nevertheless. A lie though it was, however, the thing that struck Nomin was that the woman had no intended malice, simply that she was…lost.

The other thing that was striking…was that her aether felt different. Almost non-existent. Yet, she had a wealth of magic that she utilized in combat…

“I’ve been to Ala Ghiri recently…” Nomin mentioned. The woman in question was called Primam Chorus -- a very Garlean sounding name despite being from Gyr Abania. Her complexion matched well enough, but her explanations left much to be desired. Especially to one that could feel those shifts in aether when it came to emotions.

“H-Have you?” Primam asked, her expression turning sheepish. She drew her hands together over the tabletop, fidgeting.

“Ala Mhigans are returning to Gyr Abania -- to their home. Is there a reason you do not return?” Nomin asked, hoping to press for answers from Primam who accompanied her during their time seeing to Hancock’s want of exploring Mount Rokkon. They had come back, a few extra notes and trinkets to show for their efforts that Hancock was pleased to receive.

“I…have a home here, now. In Hingashi…”

Uncertainty.

“Far be it from me to prod further…” Nomin said, grabbing her chilled bronze cup and taking her waterskin to fill it.

“I was young when my brother and I had to flee.” Primam brought her own cup closer -- unlike Nomin, it was a cup offered by the Hostelry itself, filled with water of her own. “I hardly remember anything about Gyr Abania, let alone Ala Ghiri.”

Nomin took a sip. A lie vague enough to believe if circumstances were different.

A headache formed, one all too familiar as Nomin placed her cup back down and screwed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. She heard the worried voice of Primam, drowned out by the hum of an entirely different scene unfolding before her.

It was like coming up for water when Nomin could finally see the land and setting around her. There were buildings she did not recognize, many of them on the verge of complete dilapidation. The lands had sparse foliage, and most strikingly, the sky was blanketed completely in black skies. It would have been darker than anything she had ever seen before if she had not been to the Thirteenth.

Nomin had the sense that this sky was something that had shrouded the land for years now at this point. Not unlike the First and how light blanketed the land in eternal daylight, and not unlike the Thirteenth bathed in eternal darkness.

A bright orangish-white light pulsed in the sky before it spread.

“What is that?” came a masculine voice. Looking over, Nomin saw someone who was strikingly similar to Primam. Her brother, no doubt.

“I-I don’t know… Nothing like this has shown up in the history books…” Nomin was speaking…or rather, she was an uncertain Primam. Shortly after her words left her, the light soon engulfed them and several others before the feeling of being submerged happened once more. But this was different -- it was Primam’s experience in traversing the rift.

Tumbling… Tumbling…

Nomin gasped, a new scene before her. Though she normally did not experience an actual soaked feeling, she was absolutely drenched this time. Primam had ended up in a body of water, sputtering and coughing. Nomin could feel how the water burned her lungs, the desperation for air as Primam swam to the closest body of land to right herself.

When eventually Primam got up and looked around within the Echo, Nomin realized she recognized the area: Yanxia, just short of Namai.

“Where…am I…?” was the question that left Primam’s lips before the hum and chatter of the Shiokaze Hostelry started to come back, the vision fading as Nomin blinked her eyes and came back to reality.

“Nomin, are you alright?” Primam asked, seeing that Nomin was shaking her head to rid herself of the feeling she just experienced.

“Don’t worry about me…just something that happens every now and then…” Nomin explained, not wanting to get into the details of her Echo. However, she looked at Primam. She realized now that she was a woman taken to a land not her own. A familiar kinship began to bud within Nomin, even if the circumstances were a bit different.

Taking a long swig of water, Nomin thought of all the questions that bubbled in her mind. She wanted to know more about this land -- this place that Primam was from. But…she supposed she would have to save those questions for such a time perhaps a better friendship could be formed.

[faelune-home]

I made an attempt at the Shiokaze Hostelry jump puzzle recently :’D made it about half way up, logged off for that night, and then continuing my attempt the next day was a fumble and i fell all the way back down again

So I didn’t continue :’’’D But i tried, and i have a bit more confidence about trying again another day \o/

(and im glad i took photos of my progress at least)

[the-ninjah-and-the-samuwhy-blog]

[cylixilkey]

Memories of Kugane 

or at least the view from the hostelry rooftop.