#the mad dog of ishgard

[colddsnap]

Delphina Snow - FFXIV RP Profile

(If you'd prefer that format, please head on over to her CARRD, where a more in depth backstory can be found as well as a playlist!)

Name: Delphina Snow, Garleans might remember her as Delphinnia jen Cassius Gender: Female Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Age: 27 Birthdate: 8th sun of the 1st Astral Moon Occupation: Private Investigator Height: 5’10” Build: Very slender, just shy of being considered gaunt, scarecrow-esque Skin: Very pale white Hair: Very long, straight mint-green, either hangs loose or is tied up in particularly fancy styles involving all sorts of fancy braids, twists, buns and ponytails. Eyes: Heterochromia, right - blood red, left - faded pale pink, both extremely large and wide

Notable Marks: 

-Her Garlean third eye was removed and replaced with a false one in the form of a faintly glowing cold white gem that looks to be threaded into her forehead with silver magitek fibers.

-Cold blue tracks run on the undersides of her arms and legs.

-Precise surgical scars decorate her torso and back, and plug marks signify where she was hooked up to machines.

Personality: A decidedly peculiar young woman who claims to hail from Ishgard proper, you would hardly know it to speak to her because she knows frighteningly little of the city or current events, not even those transpiring solely within the walls. Delphina isn't the best liar, no matter what story she'll try to spin you about her mysterious heritage, and it's probably not hard to determine that she's not from Ishgard. And probably not from Eorzean either. But her honesty can be refreshing, and the genuine delight in her eyes to experience even simple joys can be endearing to some people.She's an interesting soul, no matter how you spin it though. Often found staring into space or at something that she finds interesting for whatever reason, Delphina is prone to distraction and daydreaming. She can be deterred from a task simply because something fascinating popped up nearby where she happened to be at the time. All of these things might make her chosen profession of private investigator seem strange, but she can be quite dogged in her pursuit of a task and is something of an unconventional genius in her own right.And, you know, mind the occasional madness... All Garlean science experiments have at least a LITTLE buried inside, right? Motivations: Delphina is motivated by what boils down to a quest for closure to heal from a traumatic past. This manifests as vengeance, but that isn’t necessarily what will be the culmination of her story. The people she has come to love and care for are also extremely strong motivators for her, and she is greatly motivated also by experiencing more new wonderful things about a world she’d once thought was quite bleak. Goals: Delphina would say she has three primary goals.

Vengeance

Finding the truth about an Ishgardian cold case from some years ago that has significance to someone she loves very much.

To try all sorts of new things, meet all kinds of new people and just generally have new experiences that she never thought possible. She particularly wishes to eat every dessert in Eorzea and beyond at least once.

Life goal: Beneath it all? Delphina just wants to know what it means to really truly live. Best quality: Though it can also be to her detriment at times, Delphina’s forthrightness and honesty are genuine and even sometimes unintentionally charming. Worst quality: Her insatiable curiosity can get her into trouble, especially since she’s curious about so much in Eorzea, Ishgard and beyond. Fears: Sleep, her mother Hobbies: Dancing, exploring, sampling desserts Talents: In spite of often poor posture in regular situations, Delphina is actually quite agile and graceful. She’s a very fast learner, when she sets her mind to it, and she has such a knack for numbers that she can do complex math calculations in her head. Because of experiments she was subjected to, she also possesses an incredible talent for ice magic. Skills: Her athleticism and grace were honed in both her personal pursuits in professional ballet and her family’s rule of military service. She displays immense skill in both combat and dance, specializing in gunblades, spears and ballet with a general competency in most common martial weapons and modern dances. She is also a trained combat medic and possesses entry-level lab technician knowledge. Alignment: Chaotic neutral Groups: A research facility called the Aetheric Reliquary, her PI business named Snow Investigations Family: Two Garlean cousins who defected - Gideon Faust (Cato eir Cassius), Odessa Faust (Olessia lux Cassius) and one half-Garlean cousin - Dr. Ilan Faust Best friends: Luri Kai, Ingvarn Oarfist, Enrae Gin Relationship: She’s in an open relationship kinda... Status: …but very much in love with… S.O.: ...Dethiram Andoreth. Enemies: Anyone loyal to the old ways of the former Garlean Empire or her familySecret: Because of how understandably angry some people are toward Garleans, Delphina tends to hide this fact with a circlet or headband.

Discord: fausted You can also contact me through message here, though I don't check it quite as often.

[theworldwalkerswols]

The Warrior of Light and his Loves

A Kyler & Polycule Playlist

Take Me to Church by Hozier, with dance by Sergei Polunin | Aymeric

My lover's got humor [he]'s the giggle at a funeral knows everybody's disapproval should have worshipped [him] sooner

If the Heavens ever did speak [he]'s the last true mouthpiece every Sunday's gettin more bleak: fresh poison each week

"We were born sick" you heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes [he] tells me: "worship in the bedroom" the only Heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well Amen, Amen, Amen

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife offer me that deathless death, O good God! Let me give you my life!

If I'm Pagan of the good times my lover's the sunlight keep the Goddess on my side: She demands a sacrifice drain the whole sea, get somethin shiny somethin meaty for the main course that's a fine lookin high horse what you got in the stable? We've a lot of starvin faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty this is hungry work

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife offer me my deathless death, O good God! Let me give you my life!

No masters or Kings when the ritual begins there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sins in the madness and toil of that sad earthly sea only then I am human, only then I am clean Oh...oh! Amen! Amen, Amen...

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife offer me that deathless death, O good God! Let me give you my life!

Yeah yeah this is cliche at this point but I don't care. Also I HAD to do the ballet video, because of course I did!! It's SO GOOD!!

My interpretation of the Halonic church and Aymeric are deeply impacted by being raised with staunchly Catholic extended family. That is one of many reasons why this song speaks to be so incredibly deeply.

My Aymeric headcanons have always included 1. Aymeric has a contentious relationship with the Fury, and 2. Aymeric has always has a tendency to privately lean into or relish his "sins" of choice cough, gay sex, cough as part of that contention. Both of those headcanons come into play in this song for me.

I also deeply enjoy the bridge for its nod to social strata - "that's a fine lookin high horse / what you got in the stable? we've a lot of starvin faithful ... this is hungry work." It works so well for Ishgard.

[voideater]

I hope you die in a fire I hope you die in a raging inferno of pain I hope you die in a fire I hope you die in a raging inferno of pain

[starswornoaths]

GAME OVER

:3c

Aymeric was absolutely certain that he looked ridiculous, sprinting off after his dog down into Foundation in full Lord Speaker regalia. More ridiculous still because of how he had often spoken of how mild mannered and well tempered his companion was. 

“Vardr!” He called sharply in agitation when he realized the oversized, over fluffy dog was making a mad dash down into the Firmament. 

Exasperated, but at least grateful he had no other sessions to attend to today, Aymeric gave chase. As he trotted down the stairs his stomach sank as he saw Vardr barreling toward a peculiar but spacious looking cottage completely ensconced in a greenhouse. He prayed none of the glass would get damaged if Vardr charged at it—

His stupid, clever, stupid, stupid, too smart for his own goddamned good dog managed to open the greenhouse door with his paws and snout against the door’s handle, and promptly slipped inside. Already groaning in frustration, he picked up his jog again and scrambled to find a polite way to apologize for his dog’s breaking and entering. The door swung open wider when he drew near to reveal a woman in her front yard, tending to her vibrant, verdant garden.

The dread of his dog injuring someone gave way to curiosity when Vardr slowed to a walk at the sight of her, happily circling around her skirts and prancing for her. The woman, still facing away from Aymeric, knelt down to enthusiastically ruffle Vardr’s fur. He seemed delighted, promptly flopping down on his side in the grass and wriggled into the affectionate belly rubs that followed.

(Grass, in Ishgard, Aymeric mused. What a peculiar thought. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen it.) 

“Pray forgive me!” He said breathlessly once he had trotted up to the threshold of the woman’s yard, just outside the open door. “I thought him better mannered than—”

“He’s no bother— I’ve seen him around before.” She reassured him with barely a glance over her shoulder. He still could not make out her face. “Please, come in and shut the door, lest the cold hurt my plants.

Aymeric dumbly obeyed, stepping inside. When the door closed the warmth of the greenhouse enveloped him, there was a peculiar sense of nostalgia with it— a sense of coming home that he was absolutely...almost certain that he had never felt before. Without thought, he stuffed his hand into his pocket and rummaged for a key— 

A key? Why did he think he had a key? He did not live here.

When she lifted her head and turned to face him, Aymeric was bowled over with the peculiar feeling he was familiar with her. With mismatched eyes of blue and green and little pale blue flowers woven into the ebony hair she looked as a spring nymph but for the scars that had carved their way across her lips and down into her neck.

She smiled at him in a way that struck him to his heart. It felt as if she knew him.

Vardr, upset that his pets had been interrupted, sat up with a huff and nosed his head under her palm. Even as she didn’t look away from Aymeric she huffed a laugh and gently pet his head soothingly. 

“Are you well, my lord?” She asked gently— and he realized he must have looked ridiculous, gawking at her so.

“Quite— I beg forgiveness on Vardr’s behalf.” Aymeric cleared his throat and bowed deeply. “He has has never done something so reckless, I have not the faintest idea what got into him.”

The smile on her face turned wincing, and something deep and instinctual demanded he make that better, even as he had no clue why he felt so.

“He’s a spirited boy.” She replied, and he found he rather enjoyed the low alto of her voice, soft and soothing. “But really, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad for the company.”

The way she spoke was so familiar that for a moment he forgot they did not know each other— forgot, at least, until he made to say her name only to find he had no name to form on his lips. Or, rather, he shouldn’t. They had never met before— 

“Where are my manners— Aymeric de Borel.” He held out his hand in introduction.

The faint upset in her expression momentarily grew— she might have thought she had hidden it, and perhaps if he had not been studying her face to see how it was so familiar, he might have missed it, but it made that ache in his heart twinge. What was happening to him?

When she reached out to shake his hand, she instead gently grasped it, turned it carefully in her hold. With her free hand, she traced his knuckles with her fingertips. It struck him as odd, but he found himself unable to pull away.

“You’ll never be allowed to remember me,” she whispered, her smile gone. When she lifted her head again, her eyes swam with tears. “Will you, dear one?”

“Wh—”

His question died on his tongue in a cry of pain when the ringing in his ears started. A light burst forth from behind his eyes. His head felt as though something deeply intrinsic to him was trying to burrow out of his skull. He fell unconscious long before he had felt himself hit the ground.

There was a light overhead. He felt it press against his eyelids to fill him, that stubborn sunlight— and surely nothing more than sunlight. The first thing that struck him as he returned to himself was that he was warm, and lying in...grass? In Ishgard? How curious. When had he last felt grass here?

Aymeric forced his eyes open. When the sunlight streaming through the glass proved too much and he brough his arm up to shield him, it felt made of lead. Vardr nosed at him, and the wet cold of his nose helped Aymeric ground himself better. Despite the bone deep ache in his bones, he sat up slowly—

And his gaze fell upon a striking, heavily scarred woman. With eyes of sea and earth and forget-me-nots woven into her hair, she looked as a servant of Nophica, knelt at his side surrounded by such green and warmth.

“What—” He tried to ask when she graciously held up a hand.

“You were chasing your dog— he got into my greenhouse. You slipped chasing him, my lord.” She gave a nod, though the way she avoided looking at him confused him. “But I’m glad you’re unharmed.”

Vardr sat between the both of them, fluffy tail thumping on either side of him eagerly. Aymeric struggled to recall a time where his dog looked so pleased.

“Forgive me— and my dog.” He threw Vardr a wry smile as he forced himself to stand. “It would seem I could do to train him better. Pray permit remove him from your home and trouble you no further.”

“You’re both welcome over any time. It’s no trouble.” Said the woman. “It would be nice to have you over again.”

“It must have been the blow to the head— have we introduced ourselves? I’ve forgotten your name.”

“We did, Ser Aymeric.” The smile she gave him make his chest ache. 

Before she did, there was a...a moment, a recollection he couldn’t place flickered in the back of his mind, where he saw her— her, she has a name, you know her name, something in him insisted— strumming softly on a lyre, those scarred, full lips forming such beautiful music.

“Remember me, though I have to say goodbye,” that false memory of her sang in aching intimacy.

“Serella.” The woman replied, her gaze locked on Vardr.

Something about the name felt right and not. Correct, but not right. He could not place why. Ella feels better, his heart whispered enigmatically as he took in her radiance.

“A pleasure— though pray forgive me, I must be off.”

She nodded and bent to give his dog a few more pets. Vardr whined, bumping his head against her hand.

“Look after him. He’s a bit lost, but he’s noble and good.” Serella spoke— but still kept her eyes on Vardr.

Aymeric felt as though he were not the one being spoken to, and thus did not respond.

“Come, boy.” Aymeric patted his thigh, trying to shake the fog that was already beginning to filter in his head. The warmth of the greenhouse and the brightness of the sun was making him vaguely like taking a nap. When Vardr whined and tried to press flat against Serella’s leg when she stood, he frowned. Vardr had never done that with anyone before. “Vardr.”

Vardr’s harness and leash were still on— and normally when Aymeric took the leash in hand Vardr was ready to go. This was not normally; with a sad cry as though he were struck, Vardr pulled taut against the leash with everything he had to stay close to Serella— a perfect stranger!

“It’s alright, Vardr.” The woman shushed him, already turning to step inside. “Go on.”

Even after he’d stepped outside of the greenhouse, Vardr continued to whine.

“What has gotten into you, boy?” Aymeric asked sharply as he stuffed his hand in his pocket in search of a key.

Lock up before you leave home, some lost part of him spoke up in reminder.

He froze— why was he looking for a key to an unfamiliar woman’s greenhouse? That was ridiculous. He had never been here before.

By the time he made it back up the stairs from the Brume to Foundation proper, he forgot about the little corner of spring rooted into the very Firmament of Ishgard. Again.

[corpse-weaver-ffxiv]

𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨 - 𝕃'𝕫𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕒 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕦𝕖

► Name ➔  “Just call me Liz… Or come up with another epithet. People seem to like those.”

► Are you single ➔ “What kind of question is that..? I dont like this interview… Who are you again?”

► Are you happy ➔   “…Why do I feel like you just want to take that away from me? … Sorry if Im wrong, but, this? …This is a weird way to start an interview.”

► Are you angry? ➔   “No. Again, sorry, if I come out like that. What’s the point in being angry anyway? It wont change the outcome… More often, it just makes it worse...”

► Are your parents still married ➔  “No, my mom cut her ties to the bastard when she found out he’s been cheating on her. And poor thing couldn’t even take it like a man… Then again… In my experience, men tend to take the easy card out. Or torment those they know cant fight back… Disgusting.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “A traveling caravan in Thanalan, on its way to Shroud, or so I was told.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Used to be black, like my mother’s, but I colored it… Now its purple.”

► Eye Color ➔ “… Metallic red. The only good thing I got from my dad… And even with that, he only gave me one… The other one is foggy and blind. Been since I was born. No heroic tale behind it.”

► Birthday ➔  “ 31st Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon”

► Mood ➔   “… Lonely. My customers are… not too talkative, really. Great listeners they are tough. And longing, maybe? I miss someone very dear to me… We will see again soon though.. We are going East.”

► Gender ➔  “Female. How does this matter to you anyway?”

► Summer or winter ➔ “I like summer. But then again, winter graves are very much calming. And I would love to see the towers of Ishgard one day… They say its always cold in Coerthas.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “I’ll say evening… We good?”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “… Excuse me? S… Seriously, w.. what games are you playing. Me? In love? Uhhh… L.. Love is a strong word.. M.. Maybe? …What? Is it so hard to believe?”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Sounds like a fairytale, but it may occur once in a blue moon… B.. But basically no. I do not.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “I have only had one. So I could say Death did. But death is… a temporary thing..”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “Not to my knowing. You see… I have never been the first choise for people, when it comes for romantic interest. Except for my dear Zole, I guess. For her… I was the first choise.. Its one thing that made her special.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Like… Overall, or are we still talking about lovey-dovey things? Yes! No? …Maybe.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yes. …What? N..Need a picture for a proof or something?”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “Hard to believe, but who knows? Its as… unlikely as a snowstorm in Sagolii though…”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Yes. Does this even require further explanation? I just told you about my late wife’s passing..”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Love. Without love, we are lost. Without love, the lust is empty. Too often people… seem to mistake lust for love though… And that… It never ends well.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea, I guess. I like warm drinks more though… Can I say coffee? Black… Bit of vanilla sugar.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Cats. Im not a dog person. Im little bit afraid of dogs. Got bitten by one when I was young. He was just playing, but still. … Also, I have a pet cat… He’s very dear to me. And only man I ever need in my life.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Well, either is better than no friends, right? Few best friends, I guess… Im not… I dont enjoy crowded places, thats all.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I prefer romantic night in. Some good food… beautiful music, candles.. A bath.. maybe rose petals floating in the tub.. Just hanging around, wearing a bathrobe.. or nothing. Maybe chocolate and strawberries! Like.. for eating. Not to wear them… Then again.. why not? … One can dream, though? Yes? I.. dont know how that would work in reality though… I guess it would just be awkward..”

► Day or night ➔ “Even though I am a Seeker, I prefer night. The air feels fresh and everything is quiet.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Had a habit to sneak out when I still traveled with the caravan.. My… My mom kept telling me nights are for sleeping… But I dont know. I.. I really enjoy going out at night. Sometimes I got caught… But I learned to be more careful..”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “… From what reality are you coming from, if falling up the stairs is a thing for you? When you fall, you go down. There is no such a thing as an uplifting fall. You just fall down.. And land miserably on your face. … So have I? Yes. Got pushed down the stairs though, so… Its not kinda my fault. Or is it? …I guess it may just be.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “…Yes. … And yeah, thats all you gonna get.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “… Countless times, when I was in my teens… Oh, how I did wish I could just turn invisible… Or just disappear completely.. Can.. Can we talk about something else? This is making me uncomfortable.. …Or wait. Was that your plan all along..?”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “… You know you can smile with your eyes? … Eyes. Eyes will show you all the emotions. In some eyes, you see nothing though… Stay away from people with such eyes.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Im not… very tall myself… I think I like taller.. My Zole was a roegadyn.. She… She could just carry me around on her shoulder.. Up until… Yeah. My Xue is also a little bit taller than me.. I mean! … I mean, Xue. She’s not.. mine… I mean… Can we go on?”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  “… I… I think you basically need bit of both for it to work… On like… relationship level..”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “… I have no experience of hook-ups… So I guess its relationship... Even though, I hardly have experience of those either... But the whole idea of hook-up… just sounds unnerving. How can you just put your trust on a person like that?”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔  “Yes. Me and mom do. I visit her time to time. …Its been a while though… Maybe I should pay her a visit.. Maybe with…”, she covers her mouth with a palm, a rosy blush rising on her cheeks.

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Yes. Its not my fault though. People just seem to love to mess with me… If it was for me, I would just like to… live.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Yes. I did when I was in my teens. Did not get far though. My… heart started to act up, as I ran, and I almost died… Mom was so mad at me.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “From home? No… I got kicked out from a band of hunters though… I used to work for them as a medic… Until.. Well, things happened… For some reason, they still see it right to torment me though.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “… One… of my friends? Y.. You know.. If I did hate her, I would basically hate all my friends.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Okai, now.. Now you are just trying to make me feel miserable. Are we done with this? B..Because I am.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “… You know… I think I was right about this from the beginning… You just try to dig some information out of me, so you can take away the few things I still care for. Well, t…thats not gonna happen. L…Leave me alone…”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “…Well, you dont… You dont know anything about me…”

Stolen from beautiful @unatobajhiri​! Thanks, dear! 🖤 

Tagging @xue-ffxiv​ @hangedemperor​ (Darkie) @kyrie-silverwings​ (Erebus) @finishing-touch​ @lydha-lran​ @resistance-ranger​ @isuke-ejinn​ @thefreelanceangel​ @craftramsay​ @yokasaris​ @captainkurosolaire​ @fox-den-xiv​ & YOU! Yes, You.

[elfyourmother]

I guess I used the word intimidating because I was envisioning Gisele's enemies. at least in my experience, up to lvl 30, most of the msq (though far less than other mmo's) is advanced by combat: poachers, titans, bandits, etc. But I while I am so thankful of the description my poor word choice earned (which included a few references def need to advance in the game to appreciate), I do apologize if I offended. Has she felt welcomed by her grand company? Do / did they underestimate her also?

yeah I get what you’re saying but like at the same time I doubt you would have used that word choice for an equally dainty and femme white lady WoL

there is this subconscious thing non black people do w black women (and by extension black female fictional characters) where they read all kinds of aggression and hardness into us that isn’t there or in the case of fictional black women, even when it’s not especially supported by their characterization or the narrative. and it’s actually infuriating that no matter how kind, gentle, unassuming they are, someone will always treat them like they’re some kinda weird dominatrix or a rabid dog waiting to snap and bite someone. “Intimidating” is the even uglier cousin of “articulate” and I’m tired of it. Just like “sassy” ppl’s latent (and blatant) misogynoir ruined it. Find another word for a black woman.

ftr Gisele’s enemies aren’t any more intimidated by her than her allies, she rides a unicorn. side saddle. She talks to voidsent like they’re misbehaving cats. She’s a common adventurer, albeit with uncommon talent and a supernatural gift, but until she starts killing Primals on the regular there’s nothing to distinguish her from any other of the bazillions of common sellswords or mercs of Eorzea except her looks and her fashion sense, both of which can cause ppl who don’t know any better to think she’s just some pretty little brainless thing not to be taken seriously (just like in Thedas). petty thugs and highwaymen always try her bc they think she’s an easy mark, no matter if she’s visibly armed.

of the foes who aren’t small time, Ilberd thought nothing of insinuating she’d slept her way up the ranks of the Flames before shoving her to the ground like a sack of popatos and calling her a regicide in front of the gathered leadership of the Alliance, in Ishgard the Heavens’ Ward utterly dismissed her as a lying foreign witch literally up until she killed them all in Azys Lla, and Zenos was Zenos.

Her comrades in the Flames respect Captain Surana properly because she singlehandedly took down Ifrit. They treat her like a queen tbh and not one of them believed any of the Monetarist slander. If anything they get mad that Ishgard claims her now but they still showed up in force to her wedding there and insisted that she wear Flames colors.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Pastry Picnic 11/16

Mor Dhona was even gloomier in the pre-dawn darkness and he had to follow the map very carefully to ensure he didn’t get himself lost in the Tangle. It was a dreary and drab place, but this unusual outcropping glittered with crystals. Reflecting the sickly sky into beautiful colors and breaking the first morning light into glimmering spectrums of color. Lebeaux Desrosiers approached the designated location, drawing close enough to startle another black-plumed creature that warked and warbled its dismay at the intruder. “It’s far too early for your noise, keep it up and I shall have a new feathered cap.” He noted to the chocobo before he climbed higher still. “What a curious place for a picnic.” He called out to Michaux.

Michaux Vidal grins when he hears Chanteur start squawking, but he places his hand on the hilt of his rapier anyway, just in case it's not Lebeaux. But fortunately, it is. Michaux chuckles. "It's a beautiful place for a picnic, you mean. Also, my old Free Company fought a battle here and won, so I like being reminded of the moment of victory." He takes another sip of tea, and then gestures toward the box and second thermos. "Anyroad, here is what you came for. I don't flatter myself that it was for me." A small smile follows this remark, but it fades quickly. "It sounds like we have some things to discuss, though."

The Ishgardian clasped his hands together in delight as his icy gaze fell on the offering of sweets. A fine variety of selections and judging by the box they sat in, from one of the finer establishments. “This doesn’t quite settle your medical bill, but it is a very good start.” He noted calmly as he moved closer to have a seat. Flicking out the tails of his coat so he wouldn’t sit on them. It was all rather nice, he had to admit. Hot tea, made just the way he liked it, fresh pastries without the taint of aetheryte travel or cold storage, a beautiful location for a perfect sunrise, all nicely orchestrated by the Duskwight beside him. The medic reached for one of the treats and took a small bite, remaining silent so he could savor the taste he had missed so dearly since his exile. Even going so far as to close his eyes to truly bask in it. “Several things, I suppose. You may go first.” He finally declared once he had returned to reality and swallowed that first bite.

"Well, I'm glad to have made a start, at least," Michaux says, amused and pleased. He hadn't done this as a way to pay off his bill, but if Lebeaux chose to see it that way, who was he to argue? His budget is still tight, since he hasn't received a payment from the host club yet. Once Lebeaux opens the box, Michaux looks around for a type of pastry he'd bought two of, and then takes one for himself. He doesn't often even sweet things like this, or even enjoy them much, but he wants to see what all the fuss is about. "Well," he begins after taking an experimental bite and swallowing, "you warned me not to return to Kugane for a while because of Leon. I'd like more details about your meeting with him. Are you in danger?"

Lebeaux’s attention seemed more than a little divided between the serious conversation they were having and the nearly obscene pleasure he was deriving from those delicate little confections. The medic leaned slightly, letting his shoulder rest against Michaux’s as he savored the next bite just as intently. “He came to speak with me. I don’t suspect I’m in any sort of danger from him, at the moment. He believes I would be of use to him or his organization or what have you. It’s all a bit convoluted.” He explained with a casual wave of his hand. “I set a rather steep price for my service so I doubt he’ll be returning any time soon. But.” He smiled sweetly over at the Duskwight. “He did make it clear that he’ll not suffer to see you around Kugane. At least without my supervision. I may have led him to believe that I have seduced you to my will.” He noted, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement at the thought.

Michaux tries not to watch Lebeaux eat the pastry too closely, since the Ishgardian is doing so in a manner that is becoming distracting. It looks like he's having a near-orgasmic experience and… yeah, they have serious things to talk about. He needs to stay focused. He distracts himself with his thermos, drinking more of the bitter tea he likes, and then tries to eat a bit more of his own pastry. Not bad. Very sweet, but not to the point that the sweetness is all he can taste. It has a nutty flavor with hints of spices that he rather likes. He nearly chokes on it, though, when Lebeaux mentions his ruse. "Seduced me to your will? To the point that I'm no threat to Leon? Did he actually believe that?" He shakes his head, grinning, but then he sighs. "You're not going to work with him, are you?"

Lebeaux was certainly ensuring Michaux got his gils’ worth from these. Treating every bite as though it was the finest thing he had ever eaten. He even licked a bit of stray cream and powdered sugar from his gloves once it was finished. “Leon does not seem like the sort of man you say ‘no’ to.” He explained calmly. “At least not directly. That is how you get yourself stabbed.” He glanced aside pointedly at the Duskwight’s belly then smiled sweetly up at his face. “He believed it, after he was struck by a passing migraine. You did mention he has unusual powers akin to your own. Perhaps he saw something.” A shoulder shrugged casually. “Any roads. So long as you feign being my lovesick thrall and I continue to feign cooperation we’ve nothing to worry about.”

Michaux squirms slightly. It's hard to talk to Lebeaux without looking at him, but looking at him is dangerous at the moment. Why must nearly everything the man does be so seductive? He may not be quite seduced to Lebeaux's will, but he's definitely seduced. He sighs and takes another bite of his own pastry. He needs to focus, because Lebeaux is saying something important. Several important things, actually. "Yes," he agrees, "I think he gets visions that let him see memories from people around him. But I don't think he has much control over when it happens and what he sees, which is probably part of the reason my own abilities annoy him so much. If all he saw was that I have feelings for you, you should probably count yourself lucky." He rubs the back of his neck, looking pensive. "One of the reasons he wants to work with you is probably because he wants to learn more about you. He doesn't want an equal partnership - that's not how this organization seems to work. He wants blackmail material. He wants to control you. And you, Lebeaux… You're vulnerable to that."

The medic smiled calmly as he selected another pastry from the box, though he didn’t bite into it right away. “Michaux. I am Ishgardian. I was born to a High House and raised to join the clergy. Kugane may be Leon’s home field but the game he was playing was all but created in Ishgard and it is one I have been playing since I learned to speak.” Even if Leon did seem to be cheating by peeking at other players’ hands. “What does it matter if he unearths my past. It’s spread like wildfire as of late and has somewhat lost the leverage it once held.”

"It's not your past I'm worried about," Michaux says quietly. "It's your 'blessing.' It reminds me of something I've seen before. A tempered mind." His is speaking slowly, choosing each word carefully. Trying to get his point across without triggering immediate backlash. "Most people won't understand its true nature. And if a rumor spreads that you're tempered, you'll be in danger. You could be imprisoned or killed." He lowers his head and rubs at his left temple. Hr can feel a stress headache coming on. "You know I can't help you make any kind of deal with him. For Sol and Idris's sake, yes, but also for yours."

Lebeaux lifted a shoulder into a small shrug. “After you first mentioned that word I did a little research into what it was to be ‘Tempered’. It’s nothing like my blessing.” He explained flatly. “Those who have been tempered tend to gather crystals and hoard materials to summon their false gods. I have done nothing like that.” Yet. Nor did he mention the rest of the symptoms, which were rather close to his own behavior. Extreme devotion. Refusal to listen to reason. “In any case. I am in far more danger if I tell him ‘no’. Then there would be nothing to stop him from lashing out at me. The Kasaigumi and the Tradehouse will not be enough to protect me should he decide I’m of no value.” He finally took a bite of the sweet, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying, it seemed. “Or should he suspect. Isn’t it better this way, buying myself some time to learn more about him as he tries to learn about me.”

Michaux heaves a sigh. Well, he tried, anyroad. And he does wonder about the crystal thing sometimes. Still, everything else fits too well with the tempering theory. Another sigh. "All right. Supposing you're right and you're really not in immediate danger from him. You've still probably already negotiated with him about getting rid of Solenne and Idristan. Obviously, I can't support that." He rubs at his temple again. "I wish you three could call a real truce. Solenne is willing to negotiate with you. She has also been looking into Leon Robinaux's past, and she thinks she may have discovered who he truly is. If you weren't at each other's throats, you could share information."

Lebeaux certainly didn’t hoard crystals. But he did have a penchant for stained crystal windows and items purported to be Halonic relics or sacred items. He wrinkled his nose and set the pastry he had bitten down. The idea of it putting a foul enough taste in his mouth to spoil even that long sought-after pleasure. “I will not ally myself with heretics and cowards.” He declared flatly. “I will stand back and let these mad dogs tear into each other and when only one is remaining, I will put down the survivor myself. If need be.”

Michaux nods slowly, avoiding Lebeaux's eyes. "Right," he murmurs. He doesn't seem angered by Lebeaux's remarks. Getting angry at Lebeaux is usually pointless anyroad. Michaux isn't even sure the man is capable of changing his mind on this point. His disgust and hatred toward Idristan and Solenne tie in too deeply with his religious fervor, and thus is probably influenced by his tempering. There's one thing Michaux doesn't quite understand, though. "Am I not a heretic? Or a heathen, I suppose. Why don't you lump me in with them?"

The medic stared wistfully at the pastries but instead he took a small sip of the tea, washing out the unpleasant taste of heresy with sugar and cream. “You are a heathen. There is no hope of salvation for you, as you were not deemed worthy to be born as one of Her chosen.” He explained calmly. “You may open yourself to Her teachings and learn our doctrine to ease the fate of your soul after your death, but you will not suffer any worse for choosing not to accept Her into your life.” Lebeaux waved his hand lightly. “On the other hand. A Heretic is one who has forsaken Her love. They were born into Her light and chose to turn away from it out of fear and cowardice. They are worse than the heathens, who were never given the choice to begin with. Worse than beasts.” He smiled and reached over to brush his fingers through Michaux’s hair. Non-Ishgardians weren’t ‘people’. That’s all there was to it.

Ye gods, what a belief system. Michaux lets out a quick breath of amusement, but there is pain under the surface. He can only imagine how frightening it could be to grow up with these beliefs. Since even the smallest of mistakes seemed to be branded as heresy under the old system, he's not sure how the whole city didn't go in fear and trembling for their souls. Perhaps they did. Perhaps only a few, like Lebeaux, had the boundless confidence to believe that they were blessed and could do no wrong. Others, like the Marchemonts, only paid lip service to the Fury while paying scant attention to her teachings. Michaux sighs and leans over to rest his head on Lebeaux's shoulder. "So I have committed no wrong. I simply wasn't worthy," he murmurs, trying to puzzle out this logic. "So do you pity me? Is that it?"

“Of course.” Empathy and sympathy were nigh-impossible concepts for him but he could easily pity the poor wretches who would never be able to truly bask in the Fury’s favor as he did. “There is no promise of salvation for you. There is only this life and the Hells that await after. Your actions only determine if it is a lighter or heavier punishment. Though for your magicks I suppose it will be the latter. It’s quite pitiful.” He shifted his arm around the other, allowing him to nestle in against the side of his chest to rest his head on his shoulder, as well as keeping his hand free to continue toying with the Duskwight’s hair. “Now consider those who were given the promise of that salvation, then spat on it. How could they be forgiven.”

Michaux smiles ruefully. "It does seem rather mad, in that context," he agrees. Not that he believes that context exists. Even if Halone does reward her faithful somehow, Michaux has trouble believing that Lebeaux would be one of them. He heaves another sigh, even know he knows it will be misinterpreted by the Ishgardian. "So, when you're in the heavens with the Fury, will you spare a thought for me?"

“Of course.” Lebeaux offered, again. “Perhaps even a prayer or two.” He seemed to be feeling better now that he had ‘enlightened’ Michaux as to the finer differences between your run of the mill heathen and a heretic. He reached for one of the pastries now, able to return to enjoying it without troubling thoughts marring its taste.

@secrets-and-aetherlight 

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

A Walk in Kugane

A backstory for Priscilla bas Scaevola in three parts ( 1/3 )

Sunset approached the streets of Kugane. The paper lanterns that adorned the streets gently feathered over the natural light with their yellow and orange hue. Priscilla strolled down the Kogane Dori Markets with confidence, her wide smile greeting  every local and merchant. She dressed in a fine set of gold embroidered red silks crafted to match and blend the Far Eastern scenery and fashion. She had tied her long auburn hair neatly in a high bun and kept a matching headband attached to her wrist instead of hiding her obvious Garlean heritage.

Priscilla had planned to find the up-and-coming seamstress who had crafted her new outfit. She wanted to commission more of her outstanding work, but it was more of a guise to enjoy a tea house or a nice restaurant. The night life was always more enjoyable with company.

Just perfect! After a few questions around the markets, she felt her hopes rise. The merchants and visitors were a pleasant bunch; the locals were already familiar with her. They told her the seamstress had stopped by to procure some fabrics. The tourists and visitors were harder to approach. Some just avoided her gaze in the hopes of not being bothered, while others carried angry or stern faces, probably hailing from a nation warring with hers. The angry ones never acted confrontational with her, proving Kugane a relatively safe place for those not looking for trouble with groups like the Sekiseigumi to keep the order and the Garlean embassy right around the corner to give her a peace of mind.

Priscilla’s hopes and plans for the night began to sink as she noticed a Garlean officer walking straight in her direction.

“Miss Scaevola, I was asked to escort you.” His voice carried a slight echo within his intricate helm.

Now? But I haven’t reached my cute new seamstress yet! “You know...” Her lips curled a slight smile as she examined his form-fitting outfit, almost certain of the man behind the mask. “I always appreciate the fashion the troops carry in the Far East.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Sc-caevola!” the man stuttered. “I was asked to escort you.”

“Please, Serbius, must you wear that helmet every time? I’d prefer to stare into your blue eyes instead… formalities I guess.” She grinned and stepped to the side with an over-the-top bow, gesturing for him to lead the way. “Is it Eustace again? I am sure it could wait until tomorrow. We could go get some tea instead? Maybe appreciate some of the night life?” Maybe my room later?

“Pris, please-!” the officer pleaded and cleared his throat. Her smile widened behind his back. “Miss Scaevola, let me just do my job. Master Farcia was the one that summoned you. He was quite sour. So-“

“So no jokes, got it. Not like he has a sense of humor anyway.” Priscilla rolled her eyes. “It should be fine, I am his new money-making machine. Oh!” She raised a finger as a thought occurred to her. “The Prima Vista will be in town soon! We should see it! Fine Garlean theater, right here in Kugane. We should gather your whole crew for it!” Her voice was clear with newfound excitement.

“Are they now.” A breathy chuckle finally escaped his helmet. “Yes, maybe we should gather up the crew for that. Most have not been back home in quite a while.”

Instead of  the usual restaurant where Priscilla met with her manager, Eustace cen Farcia, she was escorted to the Garlean embassy building in Kugane. Serbius exchanged salutes and orders with the guards at the gates before they were swiftly welcomed inside.

“So, tonight, then?” she teased Serbius as they parted ways.

“Just stay out of trouble, Pris.” He shook his head as he chuckled again, leaving to continue his duties.

Trouble… I know. Priscilla walked into the building, escorted by a pair of officers once inside. Her destination was a makeshift office: a desk table next to a fireplace and half a dozen chairs. The officers asked for any weapons. She handed over her purse which, aside for some pieces of candy and a small bag of coins, contained a well-crafted gun and a ceruleum grenade. They examined it and kept the purse with them as they stood watch over the door.

Minutes later a man hastily entered the room, smacking the door open with his palm and storming to the desk where Priscilla was patiently sitting. He wore a simple dress shirt adorned with a cravat. His glasses were as crooked as his messy blonde hair and the red of his skin showed signs of stress, anger or both. In his hands were a bundle of handwritten papers, which he tried to loudly throw against the desk between them. This man was Priscilla’s manager and agent, Eustace cen Farcia.

“So I take it you didn’t like it?”

“Priscilla!”

No last names? Oh he really is mad! “Well?”

“Well?! Well?!” Eustace grew more agitated. “You do know what your own manuscript is about, right?!”

“A group of adventurers’ struggle against an overwhelming force. Eikon slayers, the final page of a thousand-year-old war in Ishgard. The inspiring tale of their tenacity, come hell or high water.”

“And you have heard the news, right?” he asked, trying to compose himself.

“Assuming you are not talking about the sales chart of The Wildfire, yes. Garlemald lost some of its territories recently.”

“Priscilla, you are missing the part where the merry band of adventurers you like to write so much about killed the crown prince Zenos yae Galvus!”

Her eyes widened in brief surprise. She quickly pondered how to respond appropriately between her want to ask for more information and the excitement of the sheer stunt these adventurers had managed to pull off. “Good riddance-“

“Priscilla bas Scaevola!!” he yelled, drowning her retort.

“He was a genocidal arse. That man was crazy,” she mouthed at Eustace, out of earshot of the guards.

“Please, dear, do not let people hear you speak so. Your father worked too hard for you. I also worked very hard for you.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We cannot have you writing about enemies of the Empire. At least not like this. They are rather displeased with your stance. There are things we can do, so let me fix this for you. Here is the deal.” Eustace threw the manuscript into the fireplace. He procured a folded letter sealed with the emperor’s insignia and handed it over to Priscilla. “We will forget about these Riskbreakers. In its place there will be something, maybe a biography, about the late Lord Zenos. Write about his prowess, about his face, it doesn’t matter. Write me something our motherland can mourn about. There will be remembrance service in a few months where we will present this. You will be the star. We will be rich. This might be the chance to change your status. You will make your father very proud. ‘Priscilla cen Scaevola’ - think about it!”

Priscilla stared intently at the fireplace for what could be a decade. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. Good thing I never gave the original away. She still mourned the hard work of the second copy that now was working as kindling. The fire burned brighter against a room that had come to feel a bit more claustrophobic. She knew they would come to invite her to participate. To bend the truth and be another cog to the great Garlean machine. But she hadn’t expected it would be so early. To comply or to resist. I don’t have the backing of the Majestic Imperial Theater Company, or half their talent. Maybe I could go to them, not that would get me the freedom I want. Maybe it could be like an internship…

“And if I refuse?” She broke the silence. One could almost hear the strain out of Eustace’s very soul.

“I believe you would lose all the help you have received so far. I won’t be able to sell this, or anything you write after that. Not that I would try. I have mouths to feed, Priscilla; I can’t keep playing these games.”

“And if I publish it myself?”

“That would be very hard. You would brand yourself a traitor to Garlemald the moment your novel reaches the people. When this little revolution ends and these Riskbreakers fail, you will fall right with them. They will seek to silence you and take your head.” Eustace sat down. “Pris, Priscilla, oh please listen to me. Let us do what is best.”

“But you are asking me to lie. To paint Zenos as a war hero, to paint people who only wanted their home back as savages and vile murderers.”

“Just write like you do for your fiction!”

“But it is not the same! This actually happens! We steal and plunder and take their land. We treat them like cattle and cannon fodder! Then when the people bite back, we don’t get to know what happened? To write off Zenos as a godsdamned saint?! He killed hundreds, and he bloody liked it! There’s actual people at the other side of these wars; these are not dogs biting back at their masters. This is not the glorious Garlemald, you know this Eustace! We have the greatest technologies and the greatest minds in all Hydaelyn! We could be so much better than these warmongering zealots, we-“

“Priscilla!” Eustace stopped her. He saw the flames burning deep within her eyes and he knew her heart was set, but he was not going to let her dig her own grave inside of the embassy. “It seems we are getting a bit carried away... His tone became more clear and punctuated. “We may have had a bit to drink, and our business discussion got a bit heated. Dear Priscilla, we do not need to come to a conclusion today. Have some time to think about your new book, and let’s catch up soon about it. I will let your father know how well you are doing. Let me escort you outside.”

Oh. She quickly remembered her situation as Eustace’s diplomacy carried on. I sure am on the Garlean embassy yelling treason. “Yes Eustace-“ She followed suit and stood. “Let me think about this and let you know as soon as I have something. Should we meet in our usual place?”

The two safely walked outside without raising concern. The real conversation resumed when they managed to get out of the soldiers’ earshot as they walked the premises. Eustace took her hand under his arm.

“Scaevola, you might be the literal death of me. Can I change your mind?”

“You are too valuable to them, old man.”

“Watch it, I am not that old.”

“Are you asking me out?” She teased a smile.

“Priscilla-”

“I know, I know.”

“Can I change your mind? Even if you don’t take part in writing for the remembrance, please bury that story away.”

“Not on this. I cannot do that.” Her tone was serious. “Will you sell me out?”

“Pris, Pris, Pris…” He took a deep saddened breath. “You know I won’t. I will make sure the guards that heard you are well fed. But I won’t be able to fund this. If you do not comply, no one will risk to fund this. When you make your move, I will wash my hands of you. I have a family.”

“I understand. Should I leave Kugane?”

“You should be safe here, at least until the moment you publish it. This city is not under our rules, but do watch your back.” Eustace frowned. “You definitely wouldn’t be welcome in Garlemald. Maybe you can find shelter with the Troupe. But don’t expect much from those heroes you love so.” He pointed at his own third eye. “I do hope they don’t execute you on the spot.”

“Charming.”

“You don’t know what to expect from the savages.”

“They are people.”

“Can I change your mind?” he asked a third time, but she just shook her head.

Together they continued in silence until Priscilla was out of the gates to the embassy. They shared a tight hug upon realizing it was the end of their partnership. She quietly parted and walked away, holding back the swirling emotions within her.

Her plans for the night wildly changed - from finding her new favorite seamstress and ordering some new clothes, to sending her life into an unexpected turmoil of uncertainty and adventure. Tears escaped her eyes as she hurriedly passed Serbius on her way back, his plain worry masked by his imperial helmet. Priscilla’s eyes were stressed and worried but her head soared like a bird to the sky. She entered her apartment and quickly prepared a bath as she contemplated a life aboard the Prima Vista. She dreamed of maybe meeting this band of adventurers that had time and time again shed tears and blood for their own safety and homeland. She dreamed of Garlemald, her glorious Garlemald. Not the power-hungry subjugators, but what was at its core: a home of brilliance and ingenuity. She dreamed of a metropolis of commerce and arts. She dreamed that maybe, just maybe, she could have a hand in making her vision a reality.

[voideater]

FFXIV Write 2020 - CRUX

Under cut: Graphic descriptions of mutilation, murder, cannibalism

The corpse left at the gates was baffling to anyone who came across it. Several people seemed utterly horrified, one poor noble had fainted after vomiting into the snow, the sheets that they had placed to cover the corpse sticky with congealed blood. 

“A dragon?”

“Nay, this looks too calculated.”

“By the Fury! Heretics have done this!”

“This is the fifth priest this moon!”

“Kyaaaaa! Save us Halone!”

“All we wanted to do was worship the Fury! Why must she forsake us!?”

The crowd had erupted with fear, as expected. The murderer had gone far with their crime. Ribs had been broken, ripped out with claws judging by the scratches along the bone. The man’s face appears to have been eaten down to the bone, the arms had been snapped like twigs. Organs lay strewn about the snow away from the corpse. Regardless of the body being covered up many had already seen the handiwork. The only clue was one thing painted on the wall in the victim’s blood: “A GIFT”.

A gift? From who? To who?

Only one knew and he was hidden in the crowd, reveling in the chaos he had caused. His ginger hair was covered with a hood, still perhaps risky but the Mad Dog of Ishgard is a master of acting. 

He wants to sew the seeds of chaos for a show and damn is he ever getting what he wants. The mysteries he’s been throwing at them for moons now seems to have been eating away at the small community of dedicated Halone worshipers. Now they’re actually starting to doubt her? Now that he hadn’t expected at all! 

Marvelous...what an amazing game this puzzle he’s created for them is starting to turn into.

[voideater]

FFXIV Write 2020 - MUSTER

3 3 3 

and YOUNG JEAN

Contains: Cannibalism

It took all of his courage to finally speak up but when he did he nearly regrets it. His words still hang heavy in the frigid air of the mountains and his companions just stare at the frail little elezen boy curled in a corner. 

Once more Jean musters up his courage to speak again. “We eat ‘im...” At fourteen he still looks very young, too young, with large eyes that seem deep set in his skull. His malnourished frame can barely even stand anymore, his fellow outlaws had carried him up to the mountains into an abandoned cabin to sleep and lay low after their robbery attempt went belly up.

Sadly one hadn’t made it. Cold and exhaustion had claimed Fred in the night and now the childish looking teenager cralwed towards him on his concave belly. “It’s not so bad I hear...it’s like pork...” The youth croaks, looking up.

“...Jean...” The leader of their failed heist, Gar, says. A strapping elezen lad of nineteen, Jean thought he was amazing and damn near idolized him. His blue eyes glance over at the frozen corpse of the hyur. “...Jean is right...”

“Boss!?” The other two boys yelp, looking amazed. 

“We don’t have a choice. We need energy to hunt, we’re trapped here until the storm dies down....but Jean.” Gar pulls a knife, handing it to Jean. “You’re preparing the meat alone. Your idea, your work.” 

[voideater]

FFXIV Write 2020 - TOOTH AND NAIL

He’s never been one to back down, ever.

Even when faced with an ambush dozen priests of Ishgard, all trained in various forms of magic, he fights tooth and nail. He’s the Mad Dog of Ishgard, a crazed animal who unleashes his forbidden magic at her most pious of residents. 

Pious? Hah. A joke. They were all sinners, just like him. Unlike him, however, they hid their misdeeds under a guise of holiness. It’s enough to make even Jean want to vomit

Their ambush hadn’t worked, and all priests lay dead in the snow. Jean himself looked quite battered as well, blood pouring from a wound on his arm where an allied guard hit him with an arrow. The tips of his hair were singed in some parts from a stray fireball he’d try to dodge (that its caster paid dearly for). His thin leather armor had taken a small beating but that was largely to the aesthetics, mercifully enough. An easy fix for him given his contacts.

This fight is one he just walked out of, irritated, but alive. He used everything he could get his claws on to ward off his attackers when magic started becoming ineffective as they better prepared for a more predictable barrage of fire spells. 

Rocks.

Tree branches. 

Rubble. 

Anything and everything is a damn weapon when you’re used to fighting for your life on the regular.

[voideater]

FFXIV Write 2020 - CLINCH

Contains: more goddamn violence but no death, just a small bit of brawling in a bar, jean loving innuendo 

A fist to the face in close quarters isn’t exactly unfamiliar to him.

It’s a damn bar fight after all, and Jean’s had his nose broken so many times it’s amazing he even has one anymore. The Roegadyn has his head in a lock, trying to throw the deceptively strong elezen out into the cobblestone streets of Limsa Lominsa but to no avail at all. The damn ginger grinds his heels into the floor, going limp as well to let gravity do its job. If he’s gonna get thrown out of the Drowning Wench again he’s making them work for it. 

”You’re into breathplay, ehhhyyyyy? How FUN!” He’s still taunting him.

”W-what? What are you talking about?” He’s struggling to move the slight ginger nightmare. “Gods you’re strong.” “I’m only six fulm and well under 200 ponze, how the hells can you NOT move me?” He taunts, getting a fist to the thin gut as he does. The redhead coughs, grinning. “HARDER DADDY! Fist me AGAIN!”

“IT’S CALLED PUNCHING YOU DAMN WEIRDO!” The Roe still does so, in the chest. Jean retaliates with a powerful kick to the Seawolf’s ankles to break away from the clinch they’re locked in. 

He inelegantly stumbles back, straightening himself out. “Got anymore? Or are you the premature type? How saddddddddddd...” The redhead mocks, blood pouring from his lips where one of his sharp teeth nicked the inside of his mouth. 

“Gods you’re so weird!”

“Eh, I’m bored with this. I’m glad you’re the type to finish quick...even if the bar wenches don’t.” He coughs, holding his swelling cheek with one claw.  Fickle as ever, his mood to fight disappears for the evening. All this started over his cheating at a card game (you’re supposed to dammit!), escalating to insults (it’s Limsa), until he finally smashed a bottle over the head of one of this Seawolf’s crew mates (he was annoying!).

Standard fare for Limsa Lominsa really. Jean just happens to be determined to escalate everything.

[voideater]

his hair’s grown out

[voideater]

“Gods Ren, Ravs, haven’t you EVER been to a beach? You’re dressed like you’re ready for a battle. IT’S A BEACH!” Jean scolds, the only one looking ready for a trip to the shore.

“Wishin’ that Aevis took off your head.”

“I didn’t pack beach clothes, literally walked into Jun’s place and was told we were coming here. DIdn’t feel like heading back to grab shit, so.”

“Want me to lend you something? I have my swim things under my shorts.”

“…No.”

“Probably got some sorta’ weird void worms down there.”

[voideater]

FFXIV Write 2020 - PART

His hair had been getting longer and longer as the days went on. He hadn’t been completely neglecting it, it’s still shiny and full looking but he hasn’t trimmed it in some time. It’s parted down the middle now as he thinks of what to do with it. 

“Huhhhh...” The man leans closer to his vanity, looking the shoulder-length strands of hair over. A recent fight had caused him to take some scissors to it to cut away a few burnt ends and it was then that he noticed how long his hair had gotten. 

Parted down the middle was so bland for such a showman as Jean, he had his own part to play in Ivory and that was as a flamboyant agent of pure, unfettered chaos.

A part to play as an eccentric, capricious elezen until he can show what a true nightmare he truly is at heart. How very fun...

[voideater]

The Lovers

The Devils