#shroudling

[theshroudwolf]

Pictomancer looks cool, Viper has me excited too.

But the sheer joy of this reveal will fuel me for months. Syl finally gets his real job in game. It had to be a limited job too cause if not Syl would be too powerful to roam uninhibited.

[shytastemakerthing]

Please excuse my terrible camera quality, everyone ;-;

Twisted Wonderland is currently consuming my brain now more than ever which led to creating a beloved Shroudling.

Will post more later!

Ask box is currently open ^_^

[octavinellesnumber1hater]

I wanted to make one of those 音mad videos, too bad I dont have access to utaus

mmd credits to Shroudling on YT

[awoohowls-ffxiv]

FFXIV WRITE 2022 // Prompt #10 Channel

The Shroud’s song in the early morning hummed his senses to awareness. Although he did not sleep as normal creatures or people did, there were still resting periods to recharge himself. His fur bristled, the glistening morning dew catching the dim lighting filtering in through the crosshatch of trees of tree roots at the mouth of his hollow above his head. The light also caught the various baubles and trophies hung from those selfsame roots, those splayed rays striking off and highlighting the sharp edges of metal sunk into the walls around him.

A catalog of his collection.

Sharp, glimmering gold eyes flecked in yellow snapped open to the message. Not an immediate danger, but caution. A warning. A whisper of greetings along his hide, petting up across his ears and soothingly under the long curve of his jaw. Paws shifted in the pace-packed dirt and ratted blankets piled on the floor beside one wall of the hollow. Shoulders rolled as he first drug his front end up in a stretch, backend raising slowly after.

His body shook, dislodging the dew from his pelt with soft sounds as the droplets hit the soil walls and his tattered blankets. Ears flapped against the white-bone horns with their numerous prongs protruding up and backwards from his skull with the full-body shake. A ripple of electric sparks trailing across his fur to dry the dampened ends with the sharp tang of ozone hitting his nostrils. His tails unfurled from their coiled rope form, stretching and recoiling together in a thick, fluff-packed braid looking not unlike a normal tail. Paws flexed and pushed at soil below him as drew his claws in the dirt, stretching with a rumbling grumble before straightening.

Both ears pricked up and forward as the song in his soul quickened. The warning was louder, then, than it had been. A growl started low in his broad chest, dark fur glinting with his gold undercoat puffing around his neck.

A stray beast from that wretched tower was in HIS home. HIS world. HIS territory.

HIS hunting ground.

He shifted positions, diving headlong into the soil that parted with a sigh and a murmur of song for him. Ambient aether pulled his form inside the soil to the position atop of his hollow, emerging spotless from the very ground he’d dove into previously.

That growl in his chest bubbled up his throat, hitting the back of his tongue and an eerie, bellowing howl erupted from his mouth. A long length of it whose song and warning bounced off the bark and swaying boughs. A second howl quickly followed the first, the bray of an angry, hungry, hound on the hunt.

The song in his veins straddled his back, leaning forward along his spine to whisper an urgency.

Sharp white teeth bared as the first gurgling snarl hit his ears and his hackles full raised in anticipation and glee. Ozone smells from the lightning glittered across horn and fur alike filled the tree-thick area with the smell as the gangling beast trampled quickly towards his direction.

The beast had heard him.

It was coming.

It was not prepared for the reckoning for disturbing HIS space.

Grom did not take anyone - let alone trespassers - LIGHTLY.

It would pay dearly for its disruption.

[theshroudwolf]

Footsteps of a toddler excitedly ascending the stairs thumping through the hall, echoes into the room. Syl was typically an early riser and Evelyn took after him in that aspect. Destiney was less so a morning person, and it was common place for him to get up and get Evelyn up before she would get vocal and loudly proclaim she was ready to be up.

Today was no different however she decided to thunder back into the room, loudly calling to Destiney. "Mom! Mom!" Her speech was coming in well and her walking was improving daily.

"Wait wait, don't run off yet." Evelyn stopped and toddled back to Syluss and was handed a plate of food. "Careful, no running." Evelyn was on the verge of record speed until she found some restraint to slow down. She did however raise her volume again.

"Mom! Pa-cake!" She made way over to Destiney's side of the bed and would be handed a plate with a pair of pancakes on it. They.... were a solid effort as Syl is a 'roast food over open fire' type of cook and this was a solid second go at pancakes. The first go... we won't talk about those.

"Good morning dear. Someone was excited about pancakes." Syl hefted her high chair up, balancing a tray atop it. Setting it up and sliding Evelyn in, he put on her bib, as the still unbrushed hair of the child hung around her face, pure excitement for pancakes on her face.

"Mom, Dad make pa-cake!" Nearly diving in before her plate was set down, she wasted no time digging into the butter topped pancakes.

Syl sat on the side of the bed and leaned down to kiss Destiney. "I did my best." Evelyn wasn't even using a fork and had a few bites torn from hers. "She likes them so I didn't do too bad." Nothing like an impromptu breakfast in bed.

@cadrenebula

[cadrenebula]

How many OCs do you currently have? If you have multiple OCs then how different are they from each other? How often do you create new ones?

Currently? 13 actual developed OCs. (I've still got to toss together profiles for Nebula and Ronove on carrd tho.)

At least 15 supporting characters. Meaning ones I'm not actively RPing cause they're just supporting cast for my OCs and won't do anything other than help plot things along as needed. Or they were created to avoid retcons. So they are available for a scene here or there as needed but not much beyond that. They're mostly for my own writing (or screenshot) purposes unless I need them for a plot point.

I don't plan on adding to my 13 anytime soon though. But we all know I'm terrible at promising not to. XD Ronove was unplanned but then he said I was keeping him. I don't add new ones too often. If they do get added it's usually because they were originally plot characters that I got attached to. Which is the case for Lancefer, Alexois, Asher, and Ronove. XD So it's only happened 4 times. That's not -that- often. An the first three were added years ago now. Ronove and Nebula were literally the last to be added and I wasn't sure I was even going to list Ronove here for the fact he's a voidal.

An boy do these characters vary! I cover a lot of bases with these OCs. (Okay I'll stop trying to be funny. XD LOL)

Destiney is a Shroudling mother and wife. She's warm and caring and very nature oriented. Very much a momma wolf who practically adopts everyone she likes into her Found Family. Stefan, is practically his twin's opposite. They were meant to be that way. He tends to keep people at arm's length and dabbles in things he shouldn't. He's the darkness to her light. But he'd do anything for his sister. Lancefer is the noble white knight who tries to remain good and kind despite all that he faces as the black sheep of his family. Tries to be a good big brother and cousin. Alexois is a villain in name only, an assassin for hire and hails from the lowest rungs of society who has turned his life around and works hard at being a better person. Valen is a pure ray of sunshine and good cheer who tries to lift the spirits of others without being dragged down by those said people. Traveling minstrel and bounty hunter. Marielle is a dragon stuck in elezen form by a curse and navigating a world she barely understands. Alfarinn is a intimidating looking brute with a soft heart beneath that beserker's rage. Looking for payback for the death of his lover. Keaira is a upbeat spunky ball of pink with a desire to explore the world and help people all while seeking challenges to make her stronger. Adelena is nicknamed the Frost Siren for a reason. She is cold and distant pirate of the Sanguine Sirens but is much warmer towards her sisters than others. Asher is a sky pirate with a weak spot for kids in similar situations to his when he was younger. He's a mischief maker and a tinker of machines. Eventually he's going to have a reckoning with his older brother. Aryn is a gremlin in disguise (not literally XD It's just his general behavior towards his circus family). He's a aerial dancer for a circus troupe and a trained Sage. A bit dramatic and obsessed with clothes. Nebula is a soft spoken mage from the deep woods of the Shroud, next in line to lead their clan when their mother steps down, a descendant from those who survived the fall of the three mage cities. Just traveling the world to learn more about the people outside of their clan. Ronove was my first attempt to make a voidal character. Exploring the madness of what it was like to be fresh from the void and under the control of a stronger voidal with an iron grip on him. Abused and tortured for over a thousand years and trying to find his way in a world that is mostly alien to him now. Now he's Stefan's partner in the plot to put an end to the voidsent trying to see them both dead.

Phew. Yeah they're all pretty different and come from varying walks of life. Thanks for the ask @furys-mercy

[theshroudwolf]

Evelyn Koellian, the child of the Shroud Wolf and his Maiden

[highfireiistarter]

Certo,

There is a small package delivered for Certo with his name on it. Inside is a simple wooden box filled with little trinkets from Ilan’s journey as he learns more about the Shroud. There are some dried flowers and herbs, a few pressed petals and a few rocks he found interesting to look at along the way. There’s even a necklace he made of feathers and rough beads that his uncle no doubt made the mage craft himself. They may not be an expensive gift but symbolize his journey as each dried flower symbolizes something Ilan could have only known through careful study. Friendship, strength, hope, pride, loyalty, love... 

The rocks though. He probably just found those to be pretty.

The small and very brief note in the box reads “Thank you.” and is signed merely with “Ilan.”

(( @the-false-ser-toes - this is his version of a letter for Certo. Though like. Probably not THAT MANY rocks. ))

[awoohowls-ffxiv]

Vargen ylar i nattens skog (The wolf is howling in the forest of the night) Han vill men kan inte sova (He wants to, but cannot sleep) Hungern river i hans varga buk (The hunger tears his wolven stomach) Och det är kallt i hans stova (And it's cold in his burrow)

[astral-flame]

Pamina made her way toward the tent. It was large, too large to not house someone of some importance, and draped in various bright silks. Outside were two tables, both lined in melted candles and various offerings. The tribe saw her as a wisewoman, a seer even. Pamina knew better.

With no hesitation, Pamina threw aside several silks and stepped inside out of the hot desert sun. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but once they had, she found that nothing had changed since her childhood. Various items, mostly of magical properties, lined the walls, some of absolutely no use to the seeker. Really, all of it was useless to her, at least at first glance. It didn’t stop her from moving to immediately rummage through the various boxes, crates, and baskets, throwing artifacts and relics haphazardly to the floor as she went. Where had she gotten half of this junk? Why was she keeping it?

“You won’t find it,” A voice spoke from the back of the tent. Pamina’s head snapped in the direction of the sound. An older, grey miqo’te woman stepped out from behind the curtain, shielded behind a large, yet simple, wooden table. Her skin was dark and tan, leathered with age. Even in the dim lighting and distance, she could see the bright, glowing orchid of one eye hiding beneath the wisps of silver that fell from the hair she’d piled atop her head. She knew that the other was a milky white, its sight lost some time ago and that her hair had never been cut in her seventy-something years on this shard. She also knew that no matter her appearance, the old woman in front of her way anything but frail. “You’ll never find it. That was the point.”

“Grandmother,” Pamina addressed her, tossing a crystal apparatus she’d in her hands to the side. “Long time. Where is it?”

The old woman frowned at the discarded item. “Absolutely no respect for someone else’s things. Little changes.”

“Where is it?” Pamina demanded.

“I knew you were coming. I saw it. I prepared all of them.” She said, moving to sit at the table at the back of the tent. “They told me that I was crazy, that you would never be stupid enough to return, so I prepared them. And here you stand, alive and in the flesh. Just as I told them. Won’t they thank me now?”

Before Pamina could speak, the old woman continued. “Tell me, child, why our people should let you live. Why should I not put you down like the rabid dog you are? Why should the great Azeyma not strike you down where you stand? What penance have you paid for the blood on your hands?”

Her grandmother pushed herself up from the table and began to collect the items that Pamina had tossed around. The miqo’te shook her head. “I can never make up for the lives lost. I came to terms with that a long time ago, and you should, too. But I need it back. Without it, others will get hurt. People I care about-”

“Ah, yes,” The old woman interrupted her, still reorganizing her mess. “The wayward seeker and his unborn son. The harlot from the woods. Yes, I have seen them. These are the people that you worry about.”

Pamina frowned. “Don’t call her that. I-”

“Would they be in danger if you had stayed away from the Shroudling and her companions? Would your seeker and his son still be safe if you’d not ripped them away from the other woman?”

“That’s not what happened, or what I’m doing. How can I take his son away from her? He’s not even born yet. I-”

“Always meddling where you do not belong, U’mina, picking up others’ scraps. That is your lot in life. That is what you have chosen, to lie in the dirt and the mud with the other garbage. Don’t look at me like that, I have seen it. I know how you have chosen to live your life since leaving here. Selling yourself for coin, lying under whoever or whatever will have you for the night. Anything to feel like you have a purpose, yes? But you do not have a purpose, do you? Poor little Mina. No tribe, no purpose, nothing. It is you who should have died that night, I would think, and not the others. Yet you, a useless husk, think you can save the innocent lives you have so carelessly put into danger just to feel a tiny bit alive? Tragic.”

“Because it would have been any different here. At least now, I get paid.” Pamina muttered.

Her grandmother spun around. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” She mumbled, wiping at her eyes. Why was she crying? Since when had she become such a crier? “This is pointless. Give me the stone.”

“And let you put more lives at risk? You’re out of your mind.”

“The only way I am putting anyone at risk is by not being in possession of that stone, and you know it.”

“What I know and what you recall are two very different things, girl. Besides, I got rid of that long ago. I could not help you even if I wanted to. The only thing you will receive from me is scorn. Leave. You are not wanted here. You haven’t been for years. Leave, or you will force my hand.”

Pamina stared at her grandmother for some time, especially as the surprisingly mobile old woman approached her. Her, in her decadent robes and messy hair, and her one blind eye and her shining necklace--

Her necklace.

The dark, purple gem hung from the old woman’s neck, dangling from a silver chain. It seemed cloudy almost, shimmering and swirling with aether and something deeper. It felt like if she stared at it long enough, it would swallow her whole.

“You’re wearing it,” Pamina said finally, staring at the old woman’s collar. “My stone. You’re wearing my stone. Have you been using it? Is that why you’re still standing, you old bat?”

“No, don’t!” The old woman cried out, but it was too late. Pamina snatched the stone up in her hand and yanked, snapping the chain from around her grandmother’s neck. There was a sudden sharp pain that shot through her skull and caused her vision to swim in black lines. All she could hear were screams. She could feel the heat from the flames on her skin. People scattered from the burning buildings, and from her.

“Please!” Pleaded the woman who she held by the neck, eyes wide and hands clutching at her wrist.

“You dare take her from me?!” Pamina bellowed.

“No! I didn’t! I wouldn’t take anything from you! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Please, you’re-” But Pamina would hear none of it. Her claws sank into the woman’s throat and tore it out. Blood sprayed outward and covered Pamina before she simply discarded the corpse in the sand like garbage.

“What are you doing?!” Cried a voice from behind her. Nijah stood there, outlined by the glow of the flame. “Look around you! Look at what you’ve caused! Haven’t you done enough?!”

Pamina gave no warning as she launched herself at her twin, who caught her with ease. What he could not do was fend off her claws from tearing and ripping into his face. She felt his blood, warm on her hands as she tried to claw his eyes out. No… Just one hand. Just one?

“You will not have her!” Pamina shrieked into his mauled face, but as quickly as it had come, the vision faded. The tent returned, and she was staring down into the singular, lifeless, golden eye of her grandmother beneath her. How had they ended up on the floor? She blinked several times before looking over her hands. In one, she held the stone strung on a chain. It shimmered faintly with aether and...something else. What was that? In the other, she held a still-beating heart. A heart? How did it get there?

Fear gripped her so suddenly. Pamina scrambled backwards off of her grandmother’s corpse. It was when she saw the gaping cavity in her chest that she fell to the ground, screaming. Pain wracked her entire body and her head, and after a bright, blinding light overtook the entire inside of the tent, the seeker’s world went dark.

---

Three days would pass before Nijah would see any sign of life from the wisewoman’s home. Truth be told, after the light that illuminated the evening sky several days prior, no one dared inspect the tent. Honestly, he thought his sister was dead.

But as he approached the end of the path leading to the old seer’s home, there she stood clear as day, donning a dark cloak, a scythe strapped to her back he hadn’t seen in years, and some sort of animal skull atop her head.

What the fuck?

“Pamina?” He called as he began to approach her. When she did not reply, his steps became a little slower, more cautious. “...Mina?”

“U’lrinha Melai is dead,” She spoke, her back still turned to him as she stared at the tent from beneath the skull. “Tell your people that she will not be consulting the bones for them ever again.”

Before he could reply, she turned. She shoved a shriveled heart into his hands before she set off down the path opposite of the settlement. As she began to walk, the tent behind Nijah erupted into flames, startling him even further and causing him to drop the heart to the ground.

“And while you’re at it, tell them that I am very much alive and that I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget.”

[ @symbiotic-seeker @the-bloody-prince @straycatte @handofcards for general mentions, @seda-xiv @kimiko-ffxiv @storytellerarin @j-yaya for ‘wood harlot’s companions’ mentions ]

x ./. x ./. x

[theshroudwolf]

[cadrenebula]

💘— What was one of the first things that attracted them to their partner?

Wolves! Destiney and Syluss had met at a tavern setting and she had Tucker with her because he was still a pup at the time. Well they got to talking about the wolves they both own after they moved outside for fresh air and less of the crowd. Yes the fact he was a duskwight and fit her preference of yummy was good but she's not that shallow to let looks be the main attraction. They're both Shroudlings and bonded over their love of animals and the woods.

Sahji's kindness. Stefan was still heavily deciding what he wanted or if he even wanted anything romantic or sexual. He'd only been starting to actually pay attention to what he wanted when it came to someone else. Sahji was the one he was referred to by Corveau over his voidsent 'problem'. And over the course of Sahji helping him, he learned more about Sahji and got to know him. So he fell first for Sahji's kindness.

Lance is much like Stefan, it was Kyna's kindness. She was originally working with him to help him with his survivor's guilt over the fall of the Vigil. Over the time of helping him, he got to know her because her kindness first attracted him to her. Especially since he's demi and doesn't do love at first sight. He's missed out on a lot of the tender loving care he should have gotten from his birth family. Something he gets now with the Loches and Kyna.

Sanagi refused to give up on him and it was that stubbornness that drew him in. Even when he tried to scare her away. Even when she found out he was an assassin. She had come to his Gin Mill fights because he'd wait till the next morning to have injuries tended. He was certain the gods loved to play cruel jokes on him and he was meant to be alone. But Sana stuck around and refused to believe he was as awful as he tried to make himself out to be.

Thanks for the ask @waitingrose

[theshroudwolf]

@cadrenebula

Evelyn, the daughter of the Shroud Wolf and his Maiden. She who is the furless cub in the eyes of the small pack.

[faerie-apples]

I really wanna RP Ash. Where my deep shroudlings at?

[maidenoftime-ffxiv]

.|the rumor mill

“Adventurers, Hunters, Trappers - Beware! White Witch of the Forest Stealing Denizens Away!”

 “It has come to the attention of us at the Shroudling Post the rumors which surround a certain creature living at the edge of the Sylphlands. Of course, many of our readers and residents of the Black Shroud and Gridania alike have likely heard such rumors before, but with the sudden influx of new adventurers venturing out into the forest, we view it as our duty to provide fresh warnings against the dangers within.

 There have been several reports of a creature that takes the shape of a young Elezen woman - no older than her late teens or early twenties - with long auburn hair and glowing white skin luring lost men and women towards a ramshackle cottage via the use of song. Through interviews with family members and investigation, it has come to our attention that these people have never been seen again. Please take extreme caution if venturing out towards the Sylphlands and consider plugging one’s ears with cotton to avoid the forest siren’s song. 

 “Though we have no firm evidence that she uses these people to cook with--”

“...it is believed that is one such use the creature has for lost adventurers, according to Eastern mythology. Gods, do people actually believe this rubbish?”

 Juliette scoffed as she held the newspaper above her face, legs and head dangling out of a hammock strung up between two mossy trees. She popped up into a sitting position and looked to the fawn grazing at grass, slowly blinking its big brown eyes at the huffing young woman.

 “It’s as if these people have never heard of hermits before,” she told the fawn, shaking the newspaper a little before casting a glance down at it. “...Don’t tell Uncle I have this. He’ll be livid if he found out I’m reading their rumors again.” 

 The girl sprung lightly to her bare feet, toes sinking into the soft, cool earth. Long skirts brushed against her ankles as she moved to one of the trees that held her hammock and nestled the newspaper within a small hole in the side of the bark, where she had hidden the rest of her contraband articles. A squirrel sitting atop the pile peered at her as she did, chomping on an acorn and watching the Elezen girl.

 “Don’t look at me like that,” Juliette sighed. “Just keep them safe for me for now, okay? If anything happens to me, this is all evidence that the people of the Twelveswood did it. Superstitions... Ridiculous.” 

 “Juliette!”

 A man’s voice boomed out through the trees, always loud and carrying. The young woman turned on a heel and hurriedly grabbed her shawl from the hammock, tying it tight around her shoulders. The little cottage was in sight, of course - it was rare for her to be allowed to leave its sight. As she trotted back towards it, she wove her way to the side to see the Ishgardian knight wiping his brow and holding an axe, a pile of freshly chopped wood to the side. It was cold that evening, so much so that one could see their own breath in the air.

 “Ah. There you are. Grandmother is looking for you. Did you gather the mushrooms she asked you to get for dinner?”

 “The mushrooms,” Juliette repeated blankly. 

Raphael sighed and put his axe into the stump he used to chop the wood, peeling off his gloves as he gave the girl a flat, tired look.

“Right! Yes. Yes, of course. The mushrooms! I have them. Of course I do.”

 Reaching down, she stretched out the pockets of her dress for him to peer inside, beaming. The man glanced down and couldn’t help but to laugh a little at the overflow of brown mushrooms she had stuffed within. Juliette patted her pockets lightly and nodded firmly.

 “You are a vexing little fae at times,” he told her affectionately, reaching down to ruffle up her hair. “Hurry along, then. And wash your feet in the basin outside before you go in! They’re black with dirt!”

 “’Tis but the color of my soul!” the girl howled, cackling as she ran into the house, leaving the man shaking his head at her and smiling despite himself.

 “...She reads too much. Silly little mustard seed.”

 “Grandmother!” Juliette called as she ventured within the cottage. 

 Overhead hung all manner of herbs and flora to dry them, and the room was warm with the fireplace roaring and the scent of cooking. The old wooden floors creaked as they were walked upon, and a variety of strange and charming knick knacks alike lined shelves and sat upon windowsills and tables. One wall of the main room was entirely devoted to books, from floor to ceiling, some spilling out onto the old but tidy carpet and piled upon the arms of chairs with the stuffing starting to come out of the upholstery. 

 Juliette wove her way through the familiar clutter and padded her way to the kitchen, where pots were boiling upon the stove and spoons were stirring themselves within. A little frog stood on two legs wearing a red hat, holding open a large cookbook for the little old woman in front of a cauldron that was being lit from beneath, the flames moving in time with the idle movements of the wand in her wizened little hand. 

 “There you are, child. You found the mushrooms, I trust?”

 Grandmother Andete peered at Juliette over a pair of half-moon spectacles, sharp green eyes observing the Elezen girl dancing into her kitchen. Her long white hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, rings and bracelets jingling and adorning her hands and wrists. Her long dress, made of silk, nearly resembled a nightdress in its style, and the Moogle slippers upon her feet did not help the old woman’s case. 

 “Of course,” came the reply, punctuated with a kiss upon the woman’s cheek. “There’s even more there this time of year than there was last. The elementals must be pleased about something.” 

 “Likely the fact that this area isn’t being bothered by troublesome people looking to be heroes. I’m assuming you saw the article in the newspaper this morning,” Andete added, raising her eyebrows as she watched the girl chopping up the mushrooms, the latter offering a quiet huff. 

 “They’re all too superstitious for their own good. I can’t even sing by the riverbanks without being accused of being a cannibal. It’s very tiring, Grandmother. What’s so odd about us? Why must I stay here all of the time?”

 “That is a discussion to have between you and your Uncle,” the old woman replied, tutting lightly as she squinted down at the book. “Ah. I’ve used the wrong root. That’s alright... It’ll just be a bit spicy. Hop along, now,” she added, nodding to the frog. He bowed and closed the book before doing as he was told. 

 “Well, now! Doesn’t this all smell delicious?”

 Raphael had come into the cottage after washing up at the basin, a big smile on his lips. He was a handsome man in his mid forties, in a rugged sort of way. His complexion was fair and ruddy, a complement to his dark red hair and bright green eyes. He towered at 6′5″, tall for a Midlander, so much so that he was often confused for a Highlander instead. The man was muscularly built, with a hand as big as Juliette’s face. It was a wonder how he had been born to the tiny Andete, a woman now no taller than four fulms and eleven ilms. 

 “It’ll be ready soon--” Juliette started cheerfully, but she was cut off, gasping at the sudden crack of sharp, searing pain through her head. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed at the counter to no avail. She was falling backwards, but was swiftly caught by the man she called Uncle, his eyes big and concerned.

“Juliette? Lettie? What is it? Is it another--”

 Her eyes had opened, but they were no longer the familiar shade of gray. They had turned to nothing other than pure white, misting silver at either side. The man looked frantically up at his mother, who waved a hand and let the cauldron’s fire burn on its own. 

 “Take her and lay her out upon the couch. It is alright, Raphael -- a minor episode. She’s alright. She’ll come back to us soon. You know the signs of something much bigger,” Andete said, hobbling after the man as he carried the girl out to the sitting room and gingerly placed her upon the bright turquoise couch. Andete reached around him to put a blanket over the girl’s still form, auburn hair over the same shoulder her head was lolling against. 

 “They’re becoming more and more common,” the man said softly, staring down at Juliette. “It’s never been this bad, mother...”

 “We will figure it out. For now, give her a few minutes. She’ll be back to normal shortly. Come-- you needn’t hover. It’s best to give her space in this state. She’ll call for us when she wakes back up.” 

Thunder cracked angrily overhead. Juliette found herself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar forest clearing. Rain was falling heavily, drenching her down to the bone and soaking her hair, but she couldn’t seem to move. Only her head would turn, and her chest felt tight. Something was wrong. Voices were swirling around her, footsteps accompanying them until she could see the group of people walking up the forest path. 

 They were travelers, clearly, with wagons pulled by chocobo loaded with possessions and people alike. Tambourines jingled, lutes played, songs were sung as the group moved by, apparently unable to see the Elezen girl standing stock still in the middle of the pouring rain. At the head of the group was a dark-haired man smoking a pipe, sitting atop his caravan being pulled by a massive yellow bird. Just as he turned his head to address someone within the wagon, an arrow went whizzing past his ear. The tip buried itself into the covering of the wagon, and immediately the cloth burst into flame. 

 Screams replaced song as yet more flaming arrows came to pass and land upon the wagons, setting them ablaze. Juliette tried to cry out, to no avail, and was instead forced to watch the group being attacked. Wild cries had come from the trees, and Keeper after Keeper descended upon the travelers, drawing weapons and chanting spells. Sharp teeth were bared as children wailed, daggers glinting in the faint glow of the moonlight nearly covered completely by heavy, thick rain clouds. A particularly large female Keeper had jumped at the man who had been leading the group, a knife raised above her head--

And then Juliette was being torn from the vision, hurtling back through time at a pace that made her feel as though she was going to be ill. Eyes snapped open, and she found herself panting, staring up at the ceiling with her fingers twitching. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, and she was acutely aware of a fine layer of perspiration that had settled over her brow. 

  “What... no...” she mumbled weakly. “No... what happened? Where...” 

 Consciousness did not last long. The girl was soon passed out once more, though not to see a vision this time; it was simply exhaustion from traveling to wherever she had just been sent. Uneasy rest came, with Raphael pacing in and out of the sitting room every ten minutes to ensure the girl was alright. 

 I don’t want these anymore, she thought in her semi-conscious state. No more.

[eaotheelf]

The mood was already a foul one; stuck outside in the past midday heat, surrounded by Shroudlings, and far too sober. Being bumped into by the strange man was merely something to add to her pile of reasons she wished to finish her errands and be home. She fully expected him to keep walking on, Southern manners being as they were in her head. As the man turned to acknowledge her, however…

Her sight caught his, the ping of something in her head. “I beg your pardon, ser.” She narrowed her eyes in his direction, pushing that vague sense of familiarity far from her mind. “I suggest you watch your step.”

Turning from him, she waited several moments before peaking over her shoulder once more. Who was that man…?