#sidwol

[lavampira]

summon my heart with yours

[headcanons-n-shit]

How about the first kiss the ffxiv boys initiate - bonus Magnai and Artoirel please? 🥺

We're being cute today u_u

First kisses (ff14boissss)

Thancred is quite used to trusting his instincts and acting before he fully finishes a thought. His hands and body move faster than his brain, grabbing at your shoulders, spinning you around, pressing you against the rough stonework. His lips slot against yours like theyre meant to fit together, that nearly-chapped texture, the slight indent beneath your tongue, as though there is a scar across his mouth you never noticed until this very moment. The slight intake of breath as a takes a half step towards you, brings your bodies flush together, one hand curled around your neck, his other arm braced against the stonework beside your head.

The sounds of clanking greaves passes. Thancred lingers, your noses brushing, his half-lidded gaze taking in the blush high on your cheeks. Just to be sure the danger has passed, he tells himself as he forces himself to pull away.

Certainly not because he never wants this moment to end.

Urianger is as meticulous in this as he is in all things. He made reservations at the Last Stand. He memorized the route he was going to take you through the Noumenon. He had an tall, gnarled, private oak tree all picked out.

What he didn't account for was the way a storm predicted to pass just south of the island would be suddenly, violently caught by a high wind and blown over the city. The two of you rush for the cover of a nearby pavilion, your coats thrown up over your heads to protect yourselves from the worst of the sudden downpour. Or, at least, to try to-- Urianger ends up looking like a wet rat, and you not much better. But the sight has you doubled-over laughing, and, not soon after, him as well.

Your first kiss is there, under that random pavilion in the Sharlyan harbor, tasting of rainwater and serendipitous joy.

G'raha wakes slowly in the unyielding cradle of the throne in the Crystal Tower. His body feels... odd. Logically, he knows that he has been asleep for a very long time. His muscles should feel stiff, his eyes crusty. But the preservation of the Crystal Tower is complete-- his neck doesn't even crack as his head rolls.

And then the memories hit him.

He flings himself from his throne, colliding with your at-speed and taking you both down onto the unforgiving crystal floor. The soul vessel cracks with a clear tone. His arms cradle your head, but his knees crack against the floor, but he doesn't care. He's alive. You're alive. You're both alive.

His first kiss misses your mouth by a malm, but on his second you grab him by his braid to guide him better. You're both crying, gasping against each others mouths, but you're alive.

You're alive.

Estinien tries not to feel nervous as you invite him into your room. The two of you. Havent really gotten to talk. After ghimlyt dark, and then you were swept away to The First, and now the world is falling apart again, and. It really does feel like now or never. If he is going to fall at the end of the universe, he wants to do so with no regrets.

Your back hits the door as it closes, and estinien looms over you, his hair tickling your cheek where it comes to rest feather-light against your skin. His eyes are blown wide, and his thumb brushes oh-so-softly against your lower lip.

"If you dont want this," Estinien growls, "then just say the word, and I will cease at once."

But your arms come up around his neck, and you never do.

Aymeric is getting sick and tired of being interrupted during his carefully-planned dates with you. Dragons, primals, assassination attempts, cats. He's trying to be a proper Ishgardian gentleman about this, but there is only so much a man can take.

Today you're wandering the Jeweled Crozier together, ohhing and ahhing at the new leatherwork on display and the new selection of fabrics for the season and even the new selection of lances from the Skysteel. It's a rare sunny day, and it can almost be called warm, and, just as Aymeric is about to slide his hand into yours, your linkpearl rings.

Something or another pulling you away from him again, you try to explain apologetically, though Aymeric doesn't let you get more than a few words out before he is leaning forward and kissing you, gently and soft.

"Come home soon," he says with a smile, and it's a good thing it's nothing urgent because you definitely spend five whole minutes just composing yourself.

Haurchefant tries not to appear impatient as he works through the last bits of paperwork for the day. It's so late it's nearly early again, and you're still not back from patrol. You're competent. More than competent. He doesn't need to worry about you, but. he does anyways.

And he breathes a sigh of relief when you try to slip soundlessly through the door, the crunching of snow caked to your cloak and armor giving you away. He doesn't bother trying not to look eager as he jumps from his seat. The two of you argue, as you shrug your armor in front of the fire and he fixes you a cup of steaming hot cocoa. Youre beautiful and passionate and infuriatingly stubborn when you choose to dig you heels in, and he nearly spills your drink all over your front as he shuts you up with his mouth.

"Dont worry me like that again," he pleads, and you can make no promises for the way he kisses you again.

Sidurgu stares at the empty space where Fray once been and just. Breathes. He expected. Something. Some kind of feeling to twist his chest. Guilt, maybe, or grief, or. something. But Fray and Myste had stood together and smiled as they were swallowed again by the Abyss, tucked again into your soul, and he feels...

relief that you are alive. Happy, to have seen them again, but also to have this whole situation behind him. And when you turn to him, blood spattered on your face and your hair all flyaway and he loves you.

It's easy to drop his blade. To step away from the violence and cradle your face gently in his hands. Less easy to pause there, staring into your eyes, waiting, because he wants this, but, more than that, he wants you to want this. And he feels joy, when your lips meet his. He feels whole.

"Ewwwwwwww," Rielle whines and makes a fake gagging noise, and you and Sidurgu both feel nothing but fond irritation.

BONUS

Magnai can't get the image of you out of his mind-- standing in the light of the ovoo, resplendent and beautiful, Khagan of the Steppe. It haunts him as he celebrates with the rest of the Oronir, drinking far too much fermented mare's milk to try to chase it away.

It doesn't work. Especially not when you're right there, laughing as Hien shakes your shoulder and retells the events of the day, how you turned from the ovoo immediately into scything down Imperials like you hadn't already been fighting all day, and you're impossible, you're--

looking up at Magnai with big, startled eyes as he leans down and plants a kiss on your lips. It's sloppy, and he tastes of fermented mare's milk, and the whole of the Oronir and the Buduga and your friends are jeering and cheering, but neither of you pull away until you're out of breath.

Artoirel is only partially drunk when it happens. It's late, just the two of you and the last two glasses of a full bottle of wine, the fireplace long burned low into smouldering embers, the barely-there orange glow casting your laughing face in beautiful, dramatic shadows. The way your nose scrunches up and you half-hide your mouth behind you hand and it strikes him, then, just how close you two are sitting, your thighs brushing beneath the table, your head knocking against his shoulder as you collapse into helpless giggles.

It's the most natural thing in the world for him to cup your cheek in his palm and tilt your face up towards his. To take in the way your eyes go half-lidded and your mouth parts around the whisper of his name. Your whole body strains towards him as he leans down the last few ilms and lets his mouth meet yours.

Forget whatever preconceptions you even held about this man: there is nothing gentlemanly about the way he kisses.

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 10: Stable

something is sparking between aureia and sidurgu, and they can't seem to see it. but rielle can. sidurgu x female warrior of light (pre-relationship), mentions of aymeric x wol. set during stormblood patches, but after the lvl 60-70 drk quests. rated: teen 2086 words ao3 link

“…when I said you could accompany us back to Ishgard, I didn’t mean for it to become a godsdamned holiday.”

“Resting at an inn is not a holiday.”

“And this isn’t a sight-seeing trip!”

“It’s fine, Sid! It’s one night! Is there something wrong with one night?”

“It’s dangerous, that’s what. For her, for you, for me.”

“Dangerous from whom, exactly? The Empire’s been all but routed from Gyr Abania. Besides, I don’t think many in patrons would consider confronting two dark knights head-on, and those that could would be drunk out of their minds. Please tell me you’re not afraid of a drunkard.”

“That’s not—godsdammit, you can be a right bloody bonehead when you want to be, you know that, eh?”

Rielle sighs and leans forward in her saddle, patting Filo’s neck. The chocobo chirrups, his head tugging on the reins as he leans into her hand, enjoying the feel as she pets his shiny black feathers. The day has stretched on and on, the road getting longer with every step, Baelsar’s Wall shadowing the horizon and somehow never getting closer, the dusty heat growing intolerable in the Gyr Abanian haze.

If she were younger—or travelling alone, let’s be honest—she would have pelted Sidurgu with the oh-so-tempting “are we there yet?” question, but for now she holds her tongue. Though Sidurgu has dragged her from one end of Coerthas to the other, even trekking into Gridania on the rare occasion, this is the furthest from Ishgard she has ever been. Her rear and legs may ache from too many hours in the saddle, but even with Sidurgu and Aureia’s endless bickering, she can’t remember a time she was this happy on the road.

She doesn’t want it to end.

She’s being selfish, she knows. Like a little kid—an actual little kid, thank you very much—asking for another five minutes at their favourite park, or clinging onto a favourite toy that has long since fallen apart. Sidurgu wanted them to return on their own, without company. He didn’t say as much—not aloud—but she saw it in his eyes when tending to his wounds. If he wasn’t stuck leaning against a rock, moaning and groaning and complaining about her fussing over him, he would have taken her and stalked down the road the moment Aureia’s back was turned. So, she struck at the opportune moment, piping up before he could say or do anything, and pointedly asked her—“You’ll come back with us to Ishgard, won’t you?”

She didn’t answer right away. There was a crease in her brow, a downcast turn to her eyes, and in that moment Rielle feared she would say no. But then she brightened, a warm smile spreading across her face, and she said—“I suppose I must. I’m going the same way, after all.”

That was yesterday. They walked for a time, Filo puffing and panting beneath Sidurgu’s weight before it became too much for the chocobo. The poor thing was the runt of his flock—Aureia’s told her the story many times—incapable of carrying an Elezen cavalier let alone a massive Au Ra in full plate armour and with a greatsword to boot.

And so they camped early, finding a spot beneath a single sprawling tree. Leaving Sidurgu to make the fire—he insisted, it was the one thing he could manage without aggravating his wounds—Rielle and Aureia hurried down the slope to the little rippling stream. Rielle wasn’t much help; she splashed in the water, giggling and free, scaring away the fish Aureia tried her best to catch. A waste, maybe, but neither Aureia nor Sidurgu told her off for it. She was too busy enjoying wading in the stream herself, and he… well. Rielle is certain he was looking at her a different way. Or maybe the same way he always has. Or maybe…

They had the last of their rations that night, laughing and smiling around the fire. It did not feel like a rationed meal.

And now today. Aureia suggested she ride Filo instead, leaving her and Sidurgu to walk ahead. Rielle was thrilled—still is, even though she is hurting all over now. She has never properly ridden a chocobo before, and Filo is such a pretty bird. The hands at the Holy Stables call him mean and difficult—he has a legendary grudge against one of the Scions, the Hyur with the white hair Aureia makes weird faces when he’s mentioned—but Rielle thinks differently. Difficult, no. Misunderstood? Maybe.  

She knows what that’s like.

But now the sun is slowly sinking toward the red-brown peaks, and they really are going to have to find somewhere to stay or camp. They’re approaching a crossroads—literally. Up the hill and over the ridge, there’s a little inn with a wide stable for chocobos and warm, soothing lights in the windows. The perfect place for a trio of weary travellers.  

But of course Aureia and Sidurgu can’t seem to make up their minds.

“Happy to be a bonehead, then, if it means someone here has the voice of reason,” Aureia says.

Sidurgu snorts, but Rielle knows better. Even when his back is turned, she can hear him trying not to smile—and his tail is curling. Sometimes she wonders if it’s the same sort of thing as those girls in the Forgotten Knight when they twist their hair around their finger while making eyes at Gibrillont. He only does it around her. Maybe he doesn’t even know it.

No matter how testy their bickering gets, he likes it. He used to bicker with Fray, too.

“You know those are incompatible,” he mutters. “Bonehead. Voice of reason. Not exactly the same thing.”

“What can I say? I’m full of contradictions. A right paradox, maybe.”

“Bloody hells, you can say that again. Here I was thinking you had put aside your greatsword for good when you all but kidnapped us on this little hol…”

“Hm? What was that?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, good. And here I thought you said holiday for a moment.”

He lets out a long sigh and passes a hand across his face. “Aureia…”

She flashes him a grin.

He glares at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Aureia, please. Don’t make me laugh. I’d rather not bleed through my bandages tonight.”

From their position several paces behind, Filo chirrups and throws a look over his shoulder, his dark, beady eyes staring at Rielle. She shrugs and pats his neck. “I know,” she whispers. “I think they’re both being boneheads. What do you think?”

Filo chirps again and shakes himself from side to side in fervent agreement.

“Yes, exactly.”

Aureia raises her arms, her hands brushing the hilt of her greatsword as she pulls her hair back and twists it into a knot. It’s different from the messy, uneven crop she sported when Rielle first met her, long enough to brush her shoulders. There’s a bit of red in it, too, which Rielle doesn’t remember. She didn’t have that when she first came to Ishgard.

“The inn is a good option, Sid,” she says. “Give Rielle a normal night for once instead of sleeping on the ground again.”

“I know that, I simply—”

He pauses, bowing his head to look at her. The difference in height between them would be quite funny, if only height wasn’t such a sore spot. Rielle huffs, making a face. Aureia may be half-Elezen, but she did not inherit their height. Is it a sore spot for her, too? Rielle hasn’t thought to ask her.  

“All right, out with it. Don’t think I don’t know you, Aureia, this isn’t about the inn or Rielle. You’re hanging onto something.”

“I… am I?”

“You don’t want to go back to Ishgard, do you.”

It isn’t a question. An accusation? Something else?

His voice has dropped low, not quite a whisper. Rielle rises a fraction out of the saddle and leans in, straining her ears to catch the conversation.

“Maybe. Yes. Perhaps.”

“Aur.” He rests a hand gently against her shoulder and their pace slows. Their boots scuff the road, a cloud of dirt puffing around their feet. “What’s going on?”

His voice is calm. Firm. Steady. The kind of voice he has after she has a bad nightmare, but not quite.  

“It’s nothing, it’s…” Aureia lets out a long, sad sigh. Rielle tugs sharply on the reigns and Filo hisses in protest, jerking to a stop some feet behind. “There’s someone I must meet with when I return.”

“I see.”

“And I would… rather not.”

A pause. “I suppose the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords and the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights is a difficult man to ignore.”

“He can be, yes. Especially when you’re…” She pauses again. “Fuck. Let’s not pretend I even know what we are anymore. He asked me to marry him and I couldn’t even say yes.”

“Would it be too much to say that I am glad of that?”

“Sid—”

“Damned if I even want to know what you are to him. And I know all too well—very well, in fact—that this is not my place and not my business, but I will say what must be said if no one else will. If you need to hear it. I do not like who you have become with him. I’m sure—Temple Knight aside—he is a pleasant man in his own right. And it would be unfair to accuse him of anything malignant, I know that is not his way. And I do believe you love him, or have loved him—”

“Sid…”

“Past or present, my point still stands. You have chased something with him. Something that has brought you joy, yes, but also great sorrow. From what I have seen, from what you have told me… I believe you must become someone else to remain with him. And I do not believe you will ever be happy becoming that person. If the pair of you were in different circumstances, if you were different people…”

“If he wasn’t the Lord Commander and I wasn’t the Warrior of Light?”

He meets her eyes, his horns casting a shadow across his face in the glare of the setting sun. “If he weren’t a politician and you weren’t the Alliance’s war hound.”

She inhales sharply. “You didn’t have to put it that way.”

“Someone bloody well should have. There are a dozen places you should be rather than wandering the Gyr Abanian wilderness with a surly dark knight and a teenaged girl. A dozen people who need you more than we do. So what other reason was there for all of this, Aureia? A soul crystal cracked? Or an excuse to run?”

A pause. “I don’t think I can talk about this now,” Aureia says quietly.

Sidurgu lets out a long breath. His hand slips from her shoulder. “I’m sorry, that was… harsher than I intended.”

“Don’t be. You were only saying what you thought. And what I’ve thought for some time. Sometimes I think you’re the only person who makes any damn sense.”

“Oh, so is that why you keep finding reasons to come and find me? You’ve long since outgrown the Forgotten Knight.”

Her hand brushes his. “That’s not the only reason.”

He smiles.

Rielle yelps and tips forward, clinging to the reigns.

Filo chirrups shrilly, wings spread wide as if to catch her. She clutches the reigns and pulls herself upright just in time, her cheeks flushing red as Aureia and Sidurgu turn around, both instinctively reaching for their weapons.

“Rielle!” he calls, releasing the hold on his greatsword’s grip. “Are you all right?”

She steadies herself. “Fine!”

“Don’t test the bird. I don’t want you getting thrown out of the saddle—”

“Don’t test your wounds, Sid, I don’t want them re-opening before tomorrow at the earliest if you can help it.” She smirks, proud of herself for the quip, and nudges Filo with her heels. He trots forward, giving the pair a smug look as he trots by. “Let’s go to that inn, shall we? If I deserve a bed for the night, then Filo deserves a stable, don’t you think?”

Sidurgu and Aureia exchange looks, both of them trying very hard not to laugh.

Grinning with triumph, Rielle tucks her hair behind her ears and leads them up the hill and down the path to the inn.  

[twilishark]

Couples who look at you like they're disappointed with you together stay together (after an admittedly long, painful for rielle, 3 expansion length slowburn)

[Image description: Sidurgu and Rino (Viera WOL) stand side by side, arms folded with expressions of annoyance. They are both wearing clothes that could be considered casual or modern.]

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 26 - LAST

(I realized that despite having written several shippy pieces, I hadn't actually written a kiss scene with Rhiki. So, I had to fix that : 3.)

Rating: Teen Genre: Angst Characters: Sidurgu Orl, Rielle de Caulignont, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi) Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light Word Count: 1,248 Content Warnings: Implied Character Death

Dammit! He hoped he had been imagining it but no, the clambering behind them was definitely getting louder. They were catching up.

Fury’s flaming-

Searing pain arced up his side and he stumbled, clutching at the fresh wound just above his waist. Warm blood seeped through his broken mail and between the fingers of his gloves. Not good. He gritted his teeth against the pain. It was bad, but not the worst he’d ever felt. Not fatal. That wasn’t going to matter in a few minutes, though.

‘Stupid! Reckless!’ He could almost hear Fray saying in the back of his mind.

“Sid!” Rielle called from a few steps ahead. Rhiki had stopped as well. No! We need to be moving faster, dammit!

He glanced around them. The corridor had narrowed into something of a bottleneck. Good. He could work with that.

“Here, let me,” Rielle started, taking a step back in his direction, but he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” He growled, which they all knew was a lie. But they all also knew that Rielle had run out of mana ages ago, before they had made a break for the exit.

The cacophony behind them grew louder.

Shite.

He already knew what he was going to have to do. The hard part was telling them.

“You two keep going,” he panted. He could taste blood on the back of his tongue. He must have taken more of a beating than he’d thought. “I’ll catch up!”

“What?!” Rielle demanded, but past her, Rhiki shook her head.

“It won’t matter. We’re not going to make it. You’re not slowing us down that much,”

Fury take her, of course she wasn’t going to let them do this the easy way. The easier way, anyway. There were times when he admired her stubbornness and complete lack of sense, but this wasn’t one of them. Of course she was going to insist on picking one last fight with him.

“You will if I keep them busy.” He replied simply, his other hand tightening around the grip of his sword.

Rhiki’s eyes widened in panic as she realized what he intended to do. He tried to tell her with his own how sorry he was.

“No! No no no! Sid, no!” Fear sharpened each word. She was afraid because she knew he was right.

Rielle looked between the two of them anxiously. “What are you-“ She was a smart kid. It didn’t take her long to figure out, either. “Sid we’re not leaving you here!”

“Yes, you are!” The words hissed through his teeth as the hand that had been gripping his side reached for the wall to steady him. He looked to Rhiki pleadingly, but she was shaking her head again.

“Rielle’s right! You know I hate noble sacrifices!”

He cursed under his breath. “It’s not nobility! It’s practicality!” When he raised his voice he could hear the pain seeping in around its edges. Their pursuers were drawing ever closer, and urgency bled into his frustration. “We don’t have time for this!”

Rielle had opened her mouth to protest again, but he ignored her and looked at Rhiki. She could deny it all she liked, somewhere in her mind she knew he was right. He could see it written on her face. And every second they spent standing there was a second that they were losing in their escape. “Rhiki, please!” He supposed there was no point in sparing his dignity now. He’d beg if it would make her move. “One of us can die here, or all of us can! Take Rielle and go!”

She was frozen, staring at him. He wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. He didn’t want to do this to her. To either of them. He knew all too well the sort of pain he was about to inflict. But if it meant they would both make it out of here alive, he would force himself not to care.

Rhiki was moving back towards him, reaching for her sword. “Fine! Then I’ll stay and hold them off!” She sounded desperate. This close, he could hear the way the distress made her voice hitch, and see the way her other fist shook from how tightly she was clenching it. He caught her raised arm by the wrist and yanked it to turn her towards him so he could look her in the eye. So she could see his own desperation.

“Don’t be stupid!” He snapped.

“Rielle needs you!” She argued, the first traces of tears glinting in the corners of her eyes.

“She needs you too!” Gods be damned! This was taking too long. “The whole world needs you! You’re the bloody Warrior of Light! You have millions of people relying on you to clean this mess up! You have a duty! And I-“ He realized he had been shouting when he heard his own voice crack. His next words were softer, but no less forceful. “All I have is the two of you! You two are the last things in my life worth a damn, and I’m not going to lose you too! I can’t!”

Her tears were falling now, and the sight was more painful than the grievous wound in his side. “Sid, I-“ Whatever she was going to say, he couldn’t listen to it. It would break him. This had already taken longer than it should have. Instead, he used his grip on her to wrench her up towards him and bent down to catch her lips in one last kiss. To shut her up, to comfort her, to tell her all of the things he didn’t have time to say. A silent I love you; the one that he didn’t have the strength to give voice to. It was the first time he’d found the strength to admit it to himself. As they kissed he could taste tears on her lips and hoped to the Fury they were hers.

Before he could risk becoming lost in the kiss, he shoved her away. “Take Rielle and GO!” He ordered.

She looked at him for a moment longer, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He knew that she wanted to argue, that she wanted to scream at him, but he also knew that she cared about Rielle as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t let her anger at him be the death of her. He sent wordless thanks to whatever gods might be listening when she turned and grabbed Rielle by the arm.

Sorry, Rhiki. She’d probably never forgive him for this, but he couldn’t help himself. He was selfish. He didn’t want to be the one left behind again.

“Sid NO!” Rielle, who had been stunned into silence by the kiss, had found her voice again, and he winced. He hoped she knew he was sorry. He was sure Rhiki would tell her. He heard her struggling against the woman’s grip, heard her yelling his name, but he had turned to face the coming onslaught. He was going to need to drag this out as long as he could. If he had to, he could always trip the old failsafe, he thought – the same one Fray had used in his own final battle, or so he had heard. A few extra seconds, paid for in blood.

Rielle’s voice was growing fainter, and he smiled bitterly through the tears he could finally allow himself to shed.

He was so, so sorry.

[anarkhebringer]

Arkhe and Sidurgu marriage lore for y'all

[ysmia]

Beach Episode

[drkmissionaries]

Firelight Calling Off the Abyss

Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light | Rated E | 6863 words

Incredibly self-indulgent fic, in which Wren shows Sid a gentleness he’s never known.

[drk-brain]

Glass Castle

Mature | Ongoing

Named f!wol x Sidurgu Orl

CW discussion of depression, death, and suicide; use of alcohol and implied alcoholism; references to a past sexual relationship involving dubcon

Would it really be the full Forgotten Knight experience if she didn’t leave with body and soul both a little burned?

Anora returns to Ishgard, and some things break. A sequel to Obsidian Heart.

Excerpt:

Crafters and specialty merchants keep their shops here on the Mezzanine, two levels up from the city’s main plazas but still far enough below its soaring spires not to truly fear Halone’s gaze. The average Ishgardian would not wander here, unless in need of a custom-made sword, and even that circumstance would see them venturing in strictly for business and leaving again as soon as possible.

The streets are narrow and uneven, a byproduct of the comparatively little space the area takes up on the city’s precarious outer edge, and as she walks a step behind, keeping intently to Sidurgu’s shadow, Anora can’t help but notice the way the place smells of sulfur and burned leather.

It’s a far cry from the gleaming markets up above. The dirty hands of industry touch every corner, and thick layers of soot cake the walls from billowing black smoke escaping workshops along the alleys, but just as Foundation serves its purpose, so too does the Mezzanine—and, largely ignored by the city's so-called peacekeepers, it feels undeniably safer here than anywhere else.

They walk for a time, ducking around stalls and dodging soot-filled puddles where snow mixed with too much ash and refused to freeze again, and she listens to the bustle of the place and the recognizable sounds of honest work: voices shouting, hammers clanging, the occasional well-timed roar of a forge fire as they pass.

Eventually, just as the last reddish rays of the sunset begin to disappear and leave them in the warm, uneven glare of haphazardly placed streetlights, Sidurgu turns sharply into an alleyway opposite the unguarded edge of a drop-off down to Foundation below.

"Here," he says, beckoning her in.

It's not at all the sort of place she'd have imagined him frequenting, but neither is it a place of lofty standards and prying eyes, it seems. And if he'd found a place he did not loathe, somewhere he could be comfortable, well… She refuses to think too much on the warmth it brings her.

“How did you find this place?” she asks as he starts up a narrow set of iron stairs bolted to the brick.

“Rielle,” he says simply, and she expects he will leave it at that. But instead he stops at the landing, turning to face her as she ascends behind him. “She made friends with a blacksmith’s daughter, caught word when the apartment above theirs opened up. It’s cheap, by virtue of the workshop.” He waves his hand at the building next door where a thick pillar of black stains the stone above a vent and the conspicuous sound of metal striking metal resonates through the alley.

It’s far more information than she’d have expected him to volunteer, up front and relatively unprompted. Still, his words are terse and simple, matter-of-fact, and not exactly an invitation for conversation.

Perhaps two years have changed him, but maybe not by much.

>Link<

[pangolinheart]

aaaaaAAHHHHHHHHHHH

sketch page comm for @pangolinheart ✨😊

[lavampira]

after I have traveled so far we'd set the fire to the third bar

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hello

Your newest post reminded me i had an idea. The bois comforting wol who is having a nervous brakedown from all the stress. Bonus Ardbert.

I really like your stories. Especially the angsty ones.

(TAZ The Breakdown plays in the background)

(Mild shadowbringers spoilers)

Thancred literally (accidentally but still) disassociated so hard from the stress that he gave up his body to the bad guy for a bit. If anyone gets what youre going through, its probably going to be him. Hes not going to waste his time on empty platitudes: hes going to get you a glass of water, a warm blanket, and a hot meal, and let you cry it out on his shoulder for as long as you need to.

(And if that still doesnt help, well. Sex is still on the table. Its rarely a good idea, but hes all out of those.)

Urianger is probably breaking down with you lets be real. Every future my mans has ever read has included world-ending catastrophe, and, sure, youve thwarted it every time (usually with his help) but. What if this time you dont? What if this time you fail???? Its an unreasonable amount of stress for one man to be carrying. He probably does a fantastic amount of fantasy weed to cope and still all it takes is seeing you break down for him to also start blubber-crying.

Graha seems kind of detached and distant at first. "Shower water food" he commands you, in the voice of Lynas grandfather the Crystal Exarch, firm and uncompromising and impossible to disobey, and you might miss the way his voice and smile are strained. The way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Hes never regretted turning back time to help you save two worlds, but. Its times like this that he wonders if he shouldnt try again to give you a happier ending.

Estinien is a firm hand on your shoulder, a steady shoulder to lean on, because he gets it. The feeling of being trapped in your own body, puppetted by powers so much greater than you can imagine, almost greater than you can comprehend... Youre breaking down for the both of you, honestly, because hes spent so long training the iron discipline to resist nidhoggs influence that he doesnt know how to anymore. This is. Cathartic. For the both of you tbh.

Aymeric wishes in this moment, more than anything, that he could just. Just be with you. Out on your journeys, giving you support by your side instead of from a distance. And he knows, he knows, that the support he gives you is important, that his ability to move nations in your favor has helped far more than any single sword at your side ever would. But he bears the weight of a nation while you bear the weight of a star, and that just. Doesnt seem fair to him.

Haurchefant knows that theres some things that hot chocolate cant fix but. Its a good starting place if nothing else. Something warm and sweet right now couldnt hurt, neither would a soft blanket and a roaring fire. He'll sit with you, bundled up together, and just listen if thats what you need. Or he can talk-- he has plenty of embarrassing stories about Artoirel that he hasnt shared yet. Either way, he'll happily help you wipe your tears away when youre done, and then drop a delicate kiss on your forehead.

Stand tall, he says. A smile better suits a hero.

Sidurgu is surprisingly good at this. Or, maybe not so surprising? Rielle is very mature for her age, but shes still a child. He probably does this whole song and dance every other week. And you feel a little bit like a child, the way he bullies you into the shower and then bundles you up in blankets and pushes food at you, but. Beneath the gruff words and scowl you can tell hes worried. Frustrated. This is exactly the kind of injustice that as a dark knight he swore he would fight, but hes just one man, there isnt much he can do about the desolation of the star. But he also needs you to know that he'll always be in your corner. Whether in this little way or if you need him to help you kill a god, he'll always come when you call.

BONUS

Ardbert has never felt so helpless in his life. He cant touch you, cant be a shoulder you can cry on. He cant even fetch you a glass of water. All he can do is stand there and watch as you break apart in your bed in the Pendants, and its. Its torture, worse than anything any ascian could ever conceive.

Still. He does what he can. And if all he can do is sit at your bedside, his hand hovering half-through yours in a mockery of touch while he tells you stories of his adventures, or friendship and triumph and happier times, well. Its the least he can do.

[myreia]

FEBHYURARY XXI: SEASON

In winter, an encounter.

He finds her. Or she finds him. Stumbling her way through the back alleys of the Brume, lugging a greatsword twice her size—Fray’s greatsword—on her back. He is furious with her then, this stranger who burst into his and Rielle’s lives unwanted and unasked, dragging the asinine politics of Ishgard—and the weight of the world—with her. She claims to be a mage, yet cannot spark a whiff of magic. Until her rage takes her. Until she gives herself to the Abyss. Then it comes surging out of her, setting her blade—that blade, cursed blade, holding so many memories—aflame with violet violence. The all-consuming depths of fury and wrath burning, burning, burning, and yet at its core, a gentle warmth. A tender flame. She loves as deeply as she has been hurt, and she is the last to recognize it. This time with her is short. Brief. A moment crystalized in the Coerthan snows. When it is over and she is gone, ascending to the heights of the Pillars with her Scions and her High Houses and whatever other political machinations she has gotten herself involved in, he knows he may never see her again. He wishes he would. For Rielle’s sake, of course.

In spring, a reunion.

It has not been that long. Her hair is longer now, growing out from the shorn cut she told him she gave herself. He does not ask about Ishgard. He does not ask about the Lord Commander, her apparent paramour. Her life has moved on, higher and higher, and the stories he hears of her feel distant from the person he knows her as. They take Rielle to Gridania, soaking in the spring sun and the loamy scent of new growth. In her company, Rielle is happier than he has ever seen her. He is thankful.

In summer, a journey.

It has been two years since he saw her last. She is different now—the fury and the rage diminished to weary numbness. The red streaks have returned to her hair, she is no longer dyeing it. Perhaps she no longer feels the need to hide, to meet the expectations set on her. She is more honest, more raw… He fears something has happened. Something she will not speak of. She puts on a brave face, but inside she is as broken as her shattered soul crystal. As they traverse the scorching russet landscape of Gyr Abania, he wonders how much of this is an escape for her. An escape from her duties, an escape from her role. The further they go, the more she opens up, telling him things in confidence she has not shared with any other. It is on an achingly normal day when the realization hits. A stop by the river, where they set their blades aside and strip down to their underthings to enjoy the cool, refreshing water. As he sits on the bank, pale skin burning in the hot sun, and she looks back at him with that gentle smile… Ah, shit.

In autumn, love.

It starts in an inn on the road to Coerthas. Rielle tucked away for an early night, the pair of them retiring to his room after one too many dark looks from the other patrons. Two dark knights in the darkest corner of the tavern were bound to attract attention. Perhaps drink is to blame for their actions, perhaps not—that first night is a blur of many things unsaid coming to fruition—regardless, the end result is the same. Love that blazes darker than the abyss in their hearts. It’s a poor decision on both their parts. This thing between them—the seed for it sown years ago in bloodstained snows, only to bloom now at the worst possible time—is precious and fragile and must needs be sheltered from the tempest of her life. She is torn in so many directions—Alliance, Scions, Garlemald, friends, allies, enemies, all devouring pieces of her until there is nothing left. He swears he will not place those demands on her. He has become the eye of the hurricane, the calm before the storm. It’s the least he can give her. This happiness is not forever. They know they must relinquish it when they reach their destination. For everything there is a season. And for every season—as certain as the falling leaves—there comes an end.

[twilishark]

Moogle loving void bun and their moogle hating baby girl 

i recently did the lvl 70 DRK quest on my main and i’m sobbing because, within Kiva’s canon, thats when they end up summoned into the first and its just Sid and Rielle having no idea where they are and all they have is their claymore on the ground 

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 28 - BLUNT

Sid can be a little bit indelicate, but Rielle can be pretty blunt herself.

(I swear I don't want to become "The SidWoL Guy" but I went to a movie tonight so I didn't have a lot of time to brainstorm/write and this was such low-hanging fruit. I swear I'll come up with a better ship eventually. Until then, please enjoy Rielle being smarter than Sid and Rhiki combined. And also a teenager.)

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, humor Characters: Rielle de Caulignont, Sidurgu Orl, Z'rhik Irhi (Warrior of Light) (referenced) Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light (implied) Word Count: 876 Content Warnings: None

The door to the Forgotten Knight didn’t need a bell – it creaked loudly enough to signal the arrival of any new patrons. Out of the corner of her eye, Rielle saw Sid stiffen, his eyes flying to the open door, only to relax again when he saw the mud-caked laborer slumping through it. She rolled her eyes. This was getting painful to watch. Sid had been jumpy ever since they’d received word that Rhiki would be passing through Ishgard in the next few days. Well, not jumpy, per se – he wasn’t really expressive enough for that to be accurate – but she could tell he was anxious with anticipation.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited about Rhiki visiting,” she complained as he settled back into his beer.

“What? What are you talking about?” He was trying to sound confused, but doing a poor job. She’d come to realize he wasn’t actually very good at lying. Despite the muted quality of his expressions and mannerisms (well, other than the angry ones), he was quite easy to read if you knew what you were looking for.

“I said I don’t know why you’re so excited. You obviously are: you’ve been watching the door like a hawk for the past two days, and you’ve insisted on going out to wander around more than usual.”

He huffed, frowning and trying to play off his unwillingness to meet her gaze as offense rather than embarrassment. “I am not excited. To see Rhiki, or about anything else.”

Ugh. Why did he always have to be so difficult? “You’re just going to say something stupid and make her mad again.” She informed him in annoyance. The two were always bickering over something. They rarely got into real fights anymore, not like they had in the beginning, but they did seem to enjoy their petty arguments. She had no idea why. It was like they didn’t know how to be nice to each other without veiling it behind playful jabs and affectionate pejoratives. Though he tried to hide it behind a scowl, she could tell that Sid secretly liked it when Rhiki teased him. Usually, anyway. But sometimes he still said things so blunt that they actually upset her.

“And even if you don’t end up fighting, you’re just going to stare at her with that look on your face whenever you think she isn’t watching.”

“What look?” Sid demanded, seeming more convincingly annoyed this time. Probably because he was.

Rielle made a face. “That look that you do. Like an abandoned chocobo chick that’s been left out in the cold. I don’t know what you would call it, but it’s sad to look at.”

“Hey!”

She rolled her eyes at him again. She wasn’t telling him anything that wasn’t true. He wasn’t as subtle as he obviously thought he was. She was honestly surprised that Rhiki hadn’t noticed it – she was usually so perceptive about other people’s feelings. Sensitive to them. Not like Sid, who wouldn’t recognize an emotion if it bit him on the arse. It seemed so obvious to her, but Sid seemed to be something of a blind spot for Rhiki.

“You two should just kiss already and get it over with.” She said, giving him a pointed look.

“What?!” The firelight made it hard to tell, but she thought he was blushing. Rhiki was right, it was funny to see him so flustered. No wonder she liked teasing him so much.

Rielle shrugged. “It’s obvious you like her. So, you should just tell her, or kiss her, or… do whatever adults do when they like each other. I mean, I know what normal adults do, but-“

Sid grimaced, still trying to hide his mortification behind a stern expression. “Well, of course I like her. She’s a fellow Dark Knight and a friend and she’s helped us out more than a few- Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?!” He didn't wait for an answer. “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”

He was so stubborn. Or stupid. Or maybe both. It was hard to tell. “Well, suit yourself then,” she relented in exasperation. “Sit there and pine, or whatever you want to call it. See if I care. I just don’t want to watch you sulk when someone else finally gets up the nerve to admit their feelings to her. It’s bound to happen, you know. She’s the Warrior of Light, after all. And she’s fun. And nice. I’m sure she has lots of admirers.”

Sid looked affronted, but also too rattled to form a quick rebuttal. When he had found his words again, all he had to say was: “I don’t know what sort of books you’ve been reading or what’s gotten the idea into your head, but I do not like Rhiki. Well, I like her, of course, but not, you know….”

“Sure, Sid. Whatever you say.” Fine. He could be that way if he liked. He was only hurting himself. And her, a little, by forcing her to watch him brood. If he wanted to suffer, he was welcome to it. Far be it from her to get in the way of his masochism.

She was definitely still going to tease him about it, though.

[amdapor-keep]

sidwol because its topical. irrepressible thoughts of death barbies