#the ghimlyt dark

[ubejamjar]

Wondrous Tails • Nine • Conflict

"Get up friend, we yet have need of you !"

-> My Wondrous Tails card <-

[keilinkzone]

Long overdue commission for my friend Kruhk Glad I could paint it as my first FF14 commish, had a lot of fun doing it :D

[mimble-sparklepudding]

19. Sprint.

Give them hell, lad. I, for my part, will defend this place to my dying breath.

[sirensongsea]

🂡

[melissa-robin-ultros]

Name: Melissa Robin

Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te

City State: Limsa Lominsa

Nameday: 17th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon

Guardian: Menphina, the Lover

[maelstrom-starcharter]

[sleepymoonlady]

Roevember Day 17: Blood

Storm of blood Born from blood Of our their fallen brothers Borne upon our hands Cradled in our arms Swelling in our hearts

[aethernoise]

wolmeric week day 6. home

[myrfing]

i love so bad when someone falters and just loses the steam to go on and someone else comes and catches them just in time and guides them through the motions hand in hand again it is very sauced

[headworld]

i know i keep talking about it but the post stormblood black rose arc setup is some of my favorite story in the whole game. like, the jaw dropping implications and just the whole uncertainty of it all is comparable to the fear you feel after the banquet, except this time it affects the ENTIRE STAR.

like, this is the setup for what the game has been nudging you towards, "how much do you really know about your enemy? how much do you really know about your allies? and how much do you know about your goddess?" LIKE.

[yloiseconeillants]

@mythandral oh no no i definitely thought that through. by ‚confesses first‘ i mean that he uses her as free therapy sounding board when she’s a captured audience to dump all his trauma on and reup on the Guilt Threshold Meter

Oh you mean „confess affections“ huh - well. Yeah lmao gksckkslxkdlslfk

[ubejamjar]

Wondrous Tails • Eleven Meeting the Family

I have it in my head that Aymeric meets Ajisai's mom during Ghimlyt Dark and she just immediately disregards his height, build, and fancy regalia, and calls him 'kiddo' . Because when you've lived as long as Kana Kawanami, you lose the patience for silly things like propriety and fancy titles.

[tavi-arts]

"Though I walk Menphina's halls tonight, you will not take another step forward!"

Beaten, bloody, bruised, on the brink of death. Her family oblivious only a few dozen malms away. There is only one thing Mina can do. Till she breathe her last.

[cherubicwitch]

WOLSTINIEN WEEK 2023: Day 3 (Blood) Canonically, Estinien saves the warrior of light from her fate at Ghimlyt Dark. If you'd like to read my fanfiction regarding Sariel and Estinien's (unfortunate) experience within Ghimlyt Dark, my two part fanfiction can be found on AO3 <;3 Fanfiction link here <3

[dawnslight-aegis]

wolstinien week day 3: blood

Estinien cast an eye over the battlefield at Ghimlyt Dark, his vantage point atop the region’s tallest structure giving him an excellent view of the battle as it increased in intensity. For a moment, he thought to head to the eastern front, but spied two brilliant flashes of blue, working in tandem – and if Aymeric and Kaede held that line, then the other, to the north, would be the weaker defended.

As he considered where best to put his lance to use, the vestiges of Nidhogg stirred from where they lay sleeping within his soul, speaking more clearly than they had since the wyrm’s eyes had been part of his own flesh.

The other.

The dragoon knew instantly who he meant – there were precious few mortals that Nidhogg had ever bothered to refer to, even obliquely.

Go.

Gathering his lance, Estinien leapt down into the battlefield, allowing the almost imperceptible thread that still linked the remnants of Nidhogg embedded in his essence to that of Marzanna Kimbatuul, Azure Dragoon, to pull him northward. The wyrm’s urgency was concerning, and it mingled with his own until he could not tell if Nidhogg had subsided or if his own will had simply overridden it.

‘Twas easy enough to find her – a massive gap in the Garlean forces at first made him think that they were giving her a wide berth, but the truth revealed itself soon enough, in the hulking form of Zenos yae Galvus. A form that was rising from the ground, shrugging off a wound that, to any mortal man, should have been fatal.

In a moment he took in the cracked and mangled mess of her armor, the twin to the set he wore; the blood that streamed, unabated, from a deep gash in her abdomen; and the way the haft of her lance splintered and shattered as she blocked a blow that she was no longer fast enough to evade.

The concern that flashed through him as he gathered himself into a leap was nothing compared to the pure terror that lanced through him as Marz pressed a hand to her head, staggered back – and then collapsed, boneless and still, into a heap on the blood-soaked dirt. The wisp-thread that Estinien had followed to find Marz suddenly went unspeakably taut and then slack in his mind, like a rope that had been stretched past its breaking point, and the loss of something he hadn’t even been fully conscious of was almost physically painful.

Zenos uncharacteristically hesitated, as if confused, his blade hovering in the air above Marz’s prone form, but not striking the fatal blow. The moment was all Estinien needed, as he launched himself into a dragonshadow dive directly at Zenos, only to miss by ilms as the Garlean leapt backwards, knocked farther away by the crimson energy that radiated from his lance.

Rage pounded through Estinien’s veins, like the beat of wings and the roar of flame, a tide of red rising up to haze his vision as aether welled and pooled and spilled forth, visible, into the very air around him. And when Zenos’s blade came down again, it wasn’t Estinien’s lance that turned it away, but a bright flash of aether, slowly coalescing into a hazy, indistinct figure; one that was, unmistakeably, a dragoon.

Estinien did not spare a thought for the strangeness of the scene unfolding before him. Thinking was beyond him then, sublimated under the surge of fury that demanded he do whatever he must to protect the helpless, broken form of a woman behind him. The whispers that floated up from the depths of his soul – consort-Tioman-mate-sister-Ratatoskr – alarmed some rational corner of his mind that was still wholly Estinien, but the thought was unable to escape its confines, fluttering against the edges of Estinien’s awareness but dismissed as trivial in the face of the need to get Marz away from the terrifying force of nature that possessed the Garlean prince’s body.

Zenos sliced through the aetheric dragoon, face twisting in fury as he watched Estinien gather his prey into his arms and leap clear.

Pure instinct drove him to the eastern front, where he’d last seen Aymeric, rather than the Twin Adders and their conjurers. Rather than locked in battle, as he’d last seen him, the Lord Commander was deep inside his own lines, a crumpled heap of blue and gold pressed tightly against his armor. Kaede, for her part, seemed to be unharmed, but she stirred no more than Marz did.

As his boots met muddy earth, Aymeric looked up, in an instant taking in Estinien – still faintly glowing with draconic energy – and Marz, now nearly covered in her own blood. Dismay flashed into bright blue eyes, and then was shoved down under a layer of cold efficiency.

Raising his voice to be heard above the din of battle, Aymeric shouted, “We need to get them to safety, and the Alliance’s healers are spread too thin. Especially for a wound like that. We should return to Ishgard, immediately.”

Estinien half expected to be relieved of his burden, but instead, Aymeric clamped a hand around his forearm as aether coiled around them both, pulling insistently. For a moment, he thought to resist, to argue that he was of more use on the battlefield than in an infirmary, but the raw fear that lay beneath Aymeric’s carefully controlled expression gave him pause, as did the tightness of the grip on his arm. Closing his eyes in acquiescence, Estinien allowed himself to be dragged under and into the aetherial sea.

The cold air of Ishgard stole the air from his lungs as the teleport spell faded, and as both Warriors of Light were borne into the temple knight infirmary, Marz in particular under the close eye of the chirurgeons, Estinien could feel the rage and fear loosen its hold on his mind, only to be replaced with a feeling of standing on a precipice over a vast abyss.

The last time he had seen Marz, he had kissed her, and she had disappeared the next morning as if she’d never been. He had resolved himself to taking that as an answer to the question that had long hung, unasked, in the air between them – but the moment she was in danger, the most primal part of him had thought of her in terms that he’d never imagined himself capable of.

He could not blame it all on the remnants of Nidhogg, any more than he could truly consider them distinct from himself.

A great and terrible truth lay just beyond his grasp, and he could reach for it… or he could run from it.

With Aymeric’s protests falling on deaf ears, he strode from the Congregation and towards the aetheryte plaza, determined to return to the battlefield to make himself useful.

[arcann]

I want to write cid being sick and tired of nero's stupid ass ideas