#the malm whale

[saranilssonbooks]

I challenge ye, shipmates, to turn this into a Moby-Dick meme! 🐳

[no-living-thing-within]

Blue whale, 1865.

[eidingate]

Roevember Day 5: Stargazing

Excerpt from a letter to a little sister: Do you remember our summer in the Burn, how by day the white sand was piercingly bright, but by night it rolled out into malms of blackness, and the sky in response burst into colorful nebulas that we could have never seen closer to civilization? We would lay on our backs and fashion our own names for the shapes that we saw, inventing constellations and claiming them for our own. You insisted that one particularly vibrant cluster of stars was a whale. Your big blue sky whale.  Even in this dark place, I've caught myself searching for it. Am I looking at the same stars you and I did on those nights? If I gaze at them from the right angle, will I see them aligning? Your sky whale, following me all the way here to the end of things?

[deathmoth-blog]

Baird's beaked whale (Berardius bairdii), also known as the northern giant bottlenose whale, North Pacific bottlenose whale, giant four-toothed whale, northern four-toothed whale and the North Pacific four-toothed whale, is a species of whale from the genus Berardius. Baird's and Arnoux's beaked whales are so similar that researchers have debated whether or not they are simply two populations of the same species. However, genetic evidence and their wide geographical separation has led them to be classified as separate. Baird's beaked whale is the second largest living species of toothed whale after the sperm whale.

Baird's beaked whales were first described in 1883 by American zoologist Leonhard Stejneger based on a skull from a specimen that had been found stranded on the eastern shore of Bering Island the previous fall. The species was named after Spencer Fullerton Baird, the then Secretary of the Smithsonian. A few months after Stejneger's description was published, Swedish zoologist August Wilhelm Malm published a description of a new species in the Beradius genus, Beradius vegae, based on a portion of a skull found on Bering Island in 1879. Beradius vegae was later determined to be a junior synonym of Beradius bairdii.

The species reaches lengths of about 11.9 metres (39 ft) for males and 12.8 metres (42 ft) for females.

The snout, called a beak, is elongated and lacks all teeth except for one or two sets in the lower mandible, which are called "battle teeth" for their use in intra-species conflict. Individuals often bear scars from such confrontations.

Baird's beaked whale can live for up to 84 years.

[gatheredfates]

time and treachery | ashley hawke & koret swan

Do you want to read all of my FFXIVWrite prompts? You can do that here!

JERK. an unlikable person. especially : one who is cruel, rude, or small-minded. TW: There is implied domestic violence here, but nothing super graphic. Please read at your discretion.

“Y’know, you’re kind of a jerk sometimes.”

“Can you just shut your mouth and patch me up already?”

The brush of medicinal alcohol caused Koret to hiss, jolting back as Ashe grabbed a hold of her wrist to keep her steady. It wasn’t common for the brawler to shift into a curative role these days, especially with Shiro becoming a doctor, but the rare times that the captain presented herself to her she found herself compelled, and the most basic of first aid came easy for someone who learned to patch themself up from their own mishaps. She went back in with the wipe, ignoring how the woman growled; twisting her lip into a crooked smile when she retorted, “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.” The wipe came away bloody, a darkened peat-brown like graves dug along the edges of Ala Mhigo, and smelled not too dissimilar to the aftermath of the Garlean invasion — clinical, chemical and rust-wound. She tossed it into the bin and retrieved another, continuing to dab at the wound. “Y’lucky it’s me and not Shiro. Could be a lot worse.”

She knew why it wasn’t Shiro. The two had a shared history; a shared bond, of sorts. Koret Swan didn’t need to explain why she came to her door black and blue — she didn’t need to rehearse the same story, the same twisted chorus or endure the pity fresh in the face of every chirurgeon within a thousand-malm radius.

“What pissed him off now?” Him. Not her. Ashe watched the way Kor snickered, her voice bemused but her eyes bereft of mirth. The side of her cheek bulged where her tongue pressed, like a deadened whale swelling with decay, but the words she might have said were interred to the rot until they sank into irrelevancy.

“When I find something that doesn’t, I’ll let you know.”

She looked at her then, amber-gold to earthen-brown, and Ashe’s chest grew tight. She hated how she couldn’t protect her — hated that, despite the fact they weren’t so different, time, people and circumstance had twisted them to different paths — and that the blood she dabbed away in thickening clots was only one separation away from her own.

“Papa always said he was a little bitch.”

He was more polite than that, but it made Kor laugh. 

Ashe smiled in return, casting off the final wipe before turning back and grabbing a hold of the small sewing kit. Threading the needle, she carefully pushed the skin of her eyebrow up and began to crudely stitch it back together.

“—Always said he had somethin’ t’prove, being the youngest. Said he would whinge like a baby if he didn’t get his way.” They were never things said to Ashley specifically, more… discovered in the night when they first arrived at Limsa Lominsa, bitterly thrown to their compatriots. They were snarled the last time the two men ever spoke to each other, trading blows beneath the Marauder’s Guild after an altercation in the Drowning Wench had the three imprisoned in the small holding cells — Ashe on the outside looking in, swiftly retrieved by the guards the moment she began to scream.

Dimitri was able to pay his way out, but her father remained.

She knew he made it difficult for them. She knew he felt… slighted by that night. Embarrassed. 

He liked Ashe because he thought she was a cabin boy. He scorned the pantomime of gender when he found out proper.

It never bothered her, but she knew it bothered Kor. There was tension in her fingers, her maw set in a hard line. How many times had the two been compared — how often did she wish she could be him, not knowing the him was a farce? 

The few times they traded looks when they were children, her in rags and she in Sunday best, she knew she loathed her. She also knew Lily didn’t know her at all.

Strange to mourn a cousin seen in glances.

Careful not to nick the skin, Ashe snipped the thread pulled to a tight knot. Kor let out the air she held in a sigh, ballooning her through the pain, and reached her hand up to touch her face. The skin was swollen, the outer edges already going blue.

“Thank you,” said after a beat — like it was a forgotten sentiment, a habit she was trying to retrain. Ashe laughed proper now and grabbed a hold of her hand.

“You’re welcome. Still kind of a jerk, though.”

“Blame my father,” she said, though Ashe swore she saw a proper smile there.

“I do! I really think if we knew each other better as kids we would ‘ave gotten along.”

At least they were together now — that was the thing that counted. Time and treachery had carved a rift between them but, even in the stoicism of the captain’s words, she knew the tender sentiment. “I think you’re pushing your luck.”

[kraniumet]

"the malm whale closed because people had sex in it" misinformation and fake news. of course people had sex in the whale. whatever. it has corpse smell and is an antique.

[queer-cosette]

Hey, thanks for the tag!

Last Song: Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne

Favourite Colour: right now it's lavender blue, but it tends to vary between different shades of blue and purple.

Currently Watching: Malcolm In The Middle (Brian Cranston is iconic)

Last Movie: easy A

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: sweet!

Relationship Status: single on purpose (ace-arospec)

Current Obsessions: Heathers (both the movie and the musical) and also whales (lifelong hyperfixation and I'm gonna see the Malm Whale in a week and a half). I'd list more but everything honestly comes back to its roots in either Heathers or whales. OH, I also bought Baking Yesteryear by B Dylan Hollis and I'm gonna get back into baking!

Last thing you googled: Big Blue Bug Rhode Island

@theladyfae @hanaasbananas @noirshitsuji @swxxtcidxr @ralphforleader @multimousenette @private-bryan @lesmiserablol @trail-mx

PEOPLE I WANNA KNOW BETTER

Tagged by @lilstvr thank you babes 🫶

LAST SONG? Jungle- Good Times

FAVORITE COLOR? GREEN GREEN GREEN 🙃

CURRENTLY WATCHING? Nothing really cause everything on Netflix, disney+, & Soap2day is pissing me off, Hollywood needs to stop being bitches and pay their writers what they deserve 😭

LAST MOVIE? Bottoms

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? Mmm idk 😭 specific wise, candy sour, dinner spicy, and everything else savory.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? Single but delusional and taken by fictional men

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? The Do-Over and Better The movies by Lynn painter, ACOTAR (I love Azriel so much😭) I’ve been reading a lot of books lately lol

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? ‘How does one cope after their dog dies’ my dogs not dead I just get sad and I cried earlier because I know that it will happen some day.

tagging: @lovebugcody @raggedyoldwitch @vnusology @theold-ultraviolence @ghostlyloversworld @aislinrayne @biqherosix @certifiedlovergirlsstuff @thelov3lybookworm @auras-moonstone @ang3lik

[etheirys]

I. cross

cw: follows the immediate wake of the Bozjan Incident and may contain upsetting or triggering mentions. big cw for imperialism and apathy around imperialism as a result.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

She remembers what the nationalists forget: it's Garlemald that destroys Bozja, and Garlemald that comes to its aid.

She thinks to turn to her countrymen in the days following her mother's death, but she’s fifteen years old and newly orphaned. She has no food, no shelter, and nothing to barter with save her body. The thought terrifies her and so do the lecherous stares of men much older than she is.

She decides to travel alone and keeps off the roads.

Her hunger yawns wide in the week to follow. At night, she dreams of warm bread and meat so fresh the blood runs down the plate. Sometimes she trails her fingers over her ribs to track how much they jut from her skin, and wonders dimly how many exposed bones equates to death.

Were her parents eating well in the afterlife? She pictures them at a table dressed with finery and every delicacy known to man.

She pictures an empty seat she will soon occupy.

By the grace of the dead, she makes it another day, and then another, and another. The fallen are everywhere, their bodies malformed by poisoned aether. Some carry half-rotten fruit and flatbread not yet swallowed by mold. She thanks them one-by-one at first, but as the days go on so, too, does the process of decay and soon she no longer wants to study their faces at all.

The first Garlean ship she sees is wider than a whale and crude to behold, but in that moment it feels like seeing Faram’s own face. It solicits within her an experience that can only be described as holy. Her body no longer feels strangled by pain and starvation but light so pure it warms her from head to toe. When it lands some malms away, she knows salvation has arrived.

It takes half-a-day to cross the treeless landscape and reach their base. The explosion has rendered the once soft ground into a bog, and her frail legs can only sift through the mud for so long without needing rest. But soon she arrives and finds a line of her people, all with haggard expressions and distant stares. She joins the stragglers in the back and listens as the camp intercoms blare message after message.

“The Emperor offers food, shelter, and suitable employment to any Bozjan who swears allegiance to the throne,” a cold voice rings out. “Please remain in an orderly fashion as we process you.”

“And what of the Emperor’s apology?” cries a man some fulms in front of her. “What of Garlemald’s debt to us?”

Some stir in agreement, but the soldier only reiterates the message: swear allegiance to Garlemald if you wish to survive. A fight breaks out after that, and when the culprits are dragged away, Fadija shuffles silently forward to take their place in line. She would trade her own blood for one hot meal; allegiance is a meaningless word.

The woman at the processing table asks for her name and trade, and when she has no answer, the babushka behind her hisses, “Can you bake? Can you read? Quickly, girl!”

“I can dance,” Fadija whispers, her voice hoarse with disuse. “Ballet, since I was a child.”

The Garlean taps her pen against her electronic book and says, “A performer? Let us see.”

She’s exhausted and weak, but the scent of hot food wafts out from the camp and if she is to sing for her supper, so be it. Fadija remembers the crack of her instructor’s voice ordering her to smile as she dances, so she beams so hard her face hurts. She has not the proper shoes and her clothes are stiff with dried mud, but she takes them through a simple routine and ignores the draw of attention it earns from nearby guards.

One of them says, “The Emperor would enjoy a Bozjan refugee in His theater,” and someone murmurs an agreement.

“Aye,” states the woman before her. “That He would. Your name?”

“Fadija Kapetanović.”

“A mouthful,” she tuts, penning through her glossy tablet. When they’re finished, she is no longer Fadija but Fabia — Fabia aan Cytheris.

[saranilssonbooks]

A Youtuber Ishmael AU for shipmate @plaguedocboi .

[no-living-thing-within]

Dead whales (1865-1987).

[queer-cosette]

cheers for the tag, Hanaa!

relationship status: single-on-purpose

song stuck in my head right now: Seventeen from Heathers (beloved)

I just want them to be happy, your honour

last song I listened to: Frozen by Madonna. It's such a JDonica song and I'm on a kick right now lmao

three favourite foods: orange sesame quorn fillets, raspberry cream pie, and gambas con garbardinas

dream trip: right now I'm super psyched for my trip to Gothenberg in October to see the Malm Whale. New York, L.A., and Florence Oregon are all on the list though.

anything I want right now: for my adderall to kick in nice and quick. I have to leave for work in 20 minutes and I'm exhausted.

if you could be any animal, what and why: I desire nothing more in life than to be a little dutch rabbit in a Beatrix Potter story, wearing tiny denim dungarees and a big bow on my flopped-over ear.

@ralphforleader @swxxtcidxr @private-bryan @miabrown007 and anyone else who wants to!

Tag 10 People You Want to Know Better

thanks for the tag @thesamestarlight!

relationship status: single

song stuck in my head: currently my brain is creating a remix of GO, from Coke Studio and Left Right by Ali Sethi. LR is just such a vibe- when I heard Shae Gill's verse in it for the first time I swear it made me ascend on the bus to work at 7am. and then my brain segues into the bridge of GO because that specific part is ETHEREAL its so so good. yk what, i'm gonna add a clip of it because more people need to hear this:

last song i listened to: Castles Crumbling (From the Vault). Currently OBSESSED with this song and it's giving me such a good fic idea that could potentially be on par with my ml 1920's enemies au but like. a LOT angstier hehe. AND I'll actually have time to write it w the summer holidays starting next week 😈

three favourite foods: hmmm lasagna, bhindi masala, and pakoras

dream trip: Italy! or Greece. I'd just love to go to Europe tbh because most of the holidays i've been on have just been back home in Pakistan, which is fun but I'd love to go somewhere else too. Now that I think ab it though, I'd love to go properly sightseeing in Pakistan. I found out a while ago that the first time I went to Pakistan when I was uh...5? My uncles took us all on a trip to Murree which is a BEAUTIFUL mountainous area of the country but guess who doesn't remember any of it :((( I didn't even believe we went until i saw a video of me there lmao

anything i want right now: burger burger burger. I want takeout so badly lmao but i'm too broke to justify buying anything and too tired to cook so i just had cereal for dinner and that was supremely unsatisfying rip

if you could be any animal, what and why: something that sleeps a lot and isn't bothered by anybody. so...a cat. work has been kicking my arse lately so I am constantly exhausted and would like to sleep for a week straight please. 6 more days until the summer holidays though, woohoo!!

tagging @queer-cosette @2manyfandoms2count @theladyfae @nomolosk @deinde-prandium and anyone else who wants to have a go! <3

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #27: Benthos

(Edited 10/28/2021. Now on Ao3.)

“Your presssence is as welcome as ever, daughter,” Novv said fondly while looking over glimmering shells Seww had brought up from the depths. “We have been approached by Maelssstrom officers about engaging with our fellow sahagin to bring peace. I am proud of the work you and yours have done to make this possssible.” He looked up, watching over his various young sons playing and working on their small rocky shore.

Aeryn nodded, smiling as she also watched the younger clutchbrothers.

“Here are the supplies you asssked about before,” Novv continued, gesturing to a few sacks. “Hopefully your allies will find them of use.” He shook his head in remaining disbelief. “Sahagin on another world, so sssimilar and yet different.”

“Thank you, clutchfather,” Aeryn said. “I hope this helps too; I don’t know when the waters will return for them. I’m afraid we did them great harm in our effort to find our enemy.”

“Better to adapt than to stop exisssting entire,” Novv said. “You will do right by these dissstant cousins.” His frills flexed in a way similar to a smile, needing to say no more.

Aeryn blushed and took the supplies. Novv was soon distracted by Houu and a matter of training the younger brothers, leaving Aeryn to pause and look out over the sea as it stretched past the barrier reefs and beaches of Halfstone.

The waves hushing against the shore were easy to tune out, unless one listened to them; then it was all she could hear, the rest of the clutch fading into the background. She thought of the gleaming shells brought back from the deep and not for the first time wondered.

Wondered if she could take an elbst or manta ray and dive further and further from Vylbrand’s coast, into the darker depths where the sun’s beams did not pierce the water. Where light came from the flora and fauna, some of it deceptive in its strangeness and size, dangerous to mere surface dwellers.

Wondered if, in a place somewhat similar to the Ondo’s home, she would find remnants of ancient buildings. Impossible spires, grand arches, unbroken glass. The silt and detritus might have buried most of them, but something, something had to remain…

Another version of Anamnesis Anyder? One with records that did not falter?

Were there answers, malms below the Indigo Deep?

Or, as in the Tempest in the First, were there only more questions?

She thought again of asking Novv about swimming farther and deeper; he had so far declined, concerned about other sahagin nearer the Indigo City, realm of the Queen, and how they would react to a hyur who now breathed water like a fish. He was disturbed by the distances she spoke of, the questions she had. While he claimed to have seen nothing resembling the buildings she described and drew, she found him harder to read than most, and so often debated with herself if that was true. Or were those possible remnants further down,  more deeply buried?

She realized there would not be an island of air created by a fae whale, nor a shadowy city filled with ghostly memories and the nearly perceptible memory of music and voices. A mirage that made her ache in an almost homesick way, for a place she had never known, a person she had never been—yet knew, somehow. She irrationally hoped that if a sliver of that individual remained somewhere in the Lifestream, they watched and were at least somewhat proud of her.

As the sun slipped lower, the glow on the water reminded her of that strange space between where Minfilia had waited to rejoin with Ryne, though soon enough the light would fade to shadows. The waves lapped at her boots as the tide rolled in, the steady sound of their motion like breathing, or a heartbeat. Aeryn thought, not for the first time, that she could almost—

“Aeryn!” One of the youngest boys ran up to her, webbed feet slapping the wet turf loudly, followed by two of his clutchmates. “Pahh sssaid we can play with the new elbssst hatchlings! You should come too! Pleassse?!”

The moment had passed, and she shook it off with a laugh, letting the young sahagin pull her along to join in their games.

The mysteries of the ancient past would wait another day. The reality of the here and now had far more pressing demands—like playing big sister to a group of excited little boys getting to pick their own elbsts.

She was at least certain the ghost of her former self wouldn’t mind that.

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 14 Months, 24 Days

While outwardly able to hide his interest, Zenos can’t help but feel somewhat awestruck at the city before him.

“It’s made entirely of aether?” He hears you question, Y’shtola nodding in affirmation.

It had been no small feat to reach the depths of the water; having to make a pact with a magical whale and run errands for beastmen. They had wondered if you were “The Ancient Ones”, though he was certain that you were no such sort.

After helping the beastmen, they showed you how to reach beyond the natural shelf that now served as a cliff, the Scions fumbling on slippery rocks and squishy plant life. At the final bend did his great-grandfather’s home reveal itself to you all; an entire city glittering below the sea.

It had looked far more advanced than anything of Garlean, let alone Allagan origin, buildings so tall that they were lost to a fog as they reached to even darker depths below. As magnificent as it was, what caught his attention was not it’s advancement, but it’s structure.

“This city...” he begins, feeling the eyes of the Scions upon him. “It reminds me of Garlemald.” The confusion from the group is palpable, his eyes turning to you as you wait for him to explain. “I do not mean as far as aesthetics are concerned.” Facing the city, he points toward a building. “Forget not that this Ascian is my grandsire. He himself had built my very nation; founded my very existence. That there must be the capitol.” He faces another building area. “The residential district should be in that direction.”

Lowering his arm, he looks out onto the magical marvel before him. “Though I suppose there’s not much to be surprised by. It’s only logical to create a nation in his image.” It certainly didn’t take a scholar to know that his grandsire most likely had some hand in a multitude of events over history; seeing how long lived he was.

“That shortens our trip then. The Warrior of Light can make haste to see what that lift was going on about.” Thancred grumbles, trudging forward through the city. Zenos pays him no mind, merely glancing down at you to see what your next plan of action is. Reaching for his arm you give a light tug in the direction you want to go, and he follows along wordlessly. The eyes of the Scions are like hawks where he’s concerned, your handling of his person not going unnoticed no matter how small. Even though the motion was trivial, he can’t help but throw a smirk over his shoulder as the two of you wander off into the city.

Zenos did not pay much attention to your interactions with the shades wandering the city, given that they all spoke to you as if you were children ambling about without their guardians. It hardly irked him any, but it did appeal to his innate curiosity. What old world did his grandsire hail from, and just how powerful was it in comparison to the way things were now?

“You seem lost.” Zenos raises an eyebrow, turning to the shade that’s approached him. He can feel the Resonant hum lightly in his head, allowing him to understand the garbled sounds the shade speaks.

“I am waiting on my companion.” He shrugs, turning to watch you wander off toward another counter to ask more questions. It bothers him little to speak with a ghost; accepting that there are forces in the world that even he does not know about.

“Ah...so it is they...” The shade muses, grabbing Zenos’ attention. 

“They...?” He prompts, turning to the shade slightly.

He has a feeling the shade would grin knowingly had it the faculties to do so. “I am perhaps the only one here, in this frozen moment of time who can speak to you thusly.” The shade takes a seat on the large, but aptly sized for someone of their proportion bench. “My name is Hythlodaeus. Emet-Selch and I were colleagues, in a time before time. And looking at your soul...you must be his progeny.”

The shade has his full attention now as it chuckles. “I wonder how it must feel, to see history repeat itself.” 

Zenos resists the urge to grumble, seeing he very well cannot threaten a mere specter with violence. “Care to enlighten me then?” He asks, watching as Hythlodaeus tilts his head. 

“Emet-Selch must be beside himself, seeing his own progeny so enamored with them.” Zenos follows the shade’s gaze to you once more, your voice echoing in the large chamber as you struggle to see the large Amaurotine at the counter. “In days of eld were they and Emet-Selch inseparable...such closely bonded friends.” Hythlodaeus’ voice is wistful, but takes on a teasing quality as they stare him down. “Though, it would seem your feelings go far beyond friendship...”

Zenos doesn’t bother to hide his frown. Is he truly that obvious?

“I know not of what you speak.” He growls, cursing himself even though he had accepted his love for you but a night ago. “Is that so...” The shade muses, Zenos able to hear the impish smile that would surely be present if it had a face.

“Forgive my presumptions then...I will take my leave.” That same amusement is present in his tone, making Zenos glare until the shade disappears from his sight. With a sigh does he turn to you, watching as you attempt to scale the counter to better speak to the shade who seems to be working as the clerk. He can’t help but want to smile in his own amusement, stopping himself before his lips can even curl into a small grin.

He finds himself in need of fresh air suddenly, as fresh as one can get it malms below sea level. It baffles him how that a mere shade can so plainly see what the Scions are too blind to notice. It angers him that it is so obvious to anyone at all in the first place.

He cannot deny that that specter provided him with the useful information that in a past life, you and his grandfather were friends. His words upon your defeat make much more sense with this knowledge, leaving him to wonder if it really is hard for him strike down someone he once felt so close to. He gets the impression however that caring little for other’s lives is a family trait, and that it had probably started with him. Would you play the part of the hero through and through, trying to convince his grandfather that your world was worth saving? Or would you actually strike him down?

He moves before your hand can even rest on his arm, your eyebrows raised as if you were not expecting him to move. “You seemed so deep in thought...” you mumble, cheeks slightly red as you avert your eyes. “I was worried. Are you allright?” You ask, meeting his gaze once more. Zenos turns to face you fully, rolling his neck as he does so. 

“I am well.” He answers truthfully, smirking as he offers his elbow out to you. Your cheeks are truly red now, accepting his silent invitation by curling your hand into the crook of his elbow. “I find this place as curious as you do. Have you procured what we need?”

You nod, holding up a simple folder. “The way these shades speak...speak to me...it makes me wonder...” You drift off, allowing him to lead you through the paved streets. He says nothing as he leaves you to your thoughts, your fingers flexing lightly on his arm. “I’ll have to kill him, won’t I?”

His lips press into a thin line, unsure of what to say for a moment. “It depends on the outcome you desire.”

You cease your steps, staring up at him in confusion. “I could have killed you, so long ago. You know this.” He explains, taking your hand in his own. He can feel their rough texture even through his gloves, can feel the trials you endured, the blood you have cleansed. “However it was not the outcome I desired. I would not get a worthy opponent by striking you down so early. You proved to me at our second meeting that me sparing your life was no mistake.” He can’t help but smile fondly at the memory. 

“And now, you are the only one who understands.” He murmurs softly, bringing your hand to his lips to press gently against your skin. He feels you tense before relaxing, your fingers curling around his hand as best they can. “I would not put it past you to find some way to spare my grandsire. You have proven to me time and time again that even the heavens will bend to your will.”

He feels your hand reach to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers lightly tracing his jawline. “So tell me, hero. What is the outcome you seek?” 

You meet his gaze steadily, a light tint of red still floating on your cheeks as you gaze up at him. Your hand cups the side of his face now, your skin on his as warm as the affection he sees reflected in your eyes. “I want,”

“This is all very touching...”

The two of you break apart, meeting the bored, golden gaze of Emet-Selch. “I bid you come to my home to lose your sanity hero not...whatever it is the two of you were doing.” He drawls, arms crossed as if he was reprimanding two children. 

“I’ve no sanity to lose.” You respond, the very picture of confidence as you fully face his grandfather, gripping his hand tightly.

“Such conviction!” He scoffs, clearly unamused. “Your friends await you at the capitol. Don’t keep them waiting, will you?” Through speaking he vanishes into the aether, as fast as he came.

Squeezing his hand you turn toward the capitol, staring at it’s gleaming spires that reach toward the surface. “I suppose we should go.” You huff, giving him a grin. He feels his lip quirk, itching to return your smile. As the two of you make your way towards the capitol, you do not release his hand, even in the presence of the Scions. You clutch his tightly, taking a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you march towards certain doom...or salvation.

[ferrocyan]

i lied i will not be giving only one favorite thing about my wolreeq. the other one is this paragraph from detour:

  He gasped. "Oh, you can't read this one because it's in a different script, am I right? Very well then! This is a beginner-rank bill from Clan Nutsy, requesting the slaughter of three germinants, for the reward of, uh, three sacks of nuts? Is that a currency you're familiar with?" Tart nodded. "Well, if you're sure. I personally doubt that nuts are a valid form of compensation--but I digress. Authorized by the Eulmoran society of--" Lue-Reeq paused, gulped, then continued, "why, the esteemed Clan Nutsy has given indication of the germinants' location, after all! Whale's Breach, now that would be not a malm to the southeast of Gatetown. You can't miss it! Best of luck to you, then, partner."

one of the differences between them is that tart is way too easygoing. reeq as a more headstrong person gets concerned over her sometimes, like is she being used and walked all over like a doormat? why is she working to get paid with nuts?? that doesn't sound right! reeq gets very righteous abt this and insists on standing up for tart despite her being the wol who has way more clout hahaha

I'm so happy to see another wolreeq enjoyer! Do you have a favourite thing or detail about your wolreeq?

HI THANK YOU FOR ASKING I AM SO HAPPY TO MEET A FELLOW ENJOYER i most definitely have one favorite detail ;3 the most basic of which is that my wol and lue-reeq are similar in so many ways.

when i first met reeq in the story and he says that he's on this cardinal virtue hunt to become the greatest hunter of all time, i was immediately like oh, that's just like tart! bc my wol also initially set out as an adventurer and scion in order to become the greatest hero of eorzea, haha. she was really wrecked by the events of post-stormblood, and being transported to a new world presents a chance to start over, so meeting a guy who is just like how she was in the past really rekindled tart's adventuring spirit

they are both also really dumb. i was howling when reeq was like "heyyy bestie it just occurred to me i forgot to ask your name lol didn't we become best friends sooo fast?" like buddy. my man. he is so lucky to have met my wol, who after saving thancred from praetorium thought she should introduce herself to him. bc tart thought thancred had been possessed by lahabrea the entire time lmao. anyone else and reeq would be screwed

they are both prideful people, too. i can't say the biggest example bc i should be writing that for my fanfic (head in hands) but there's also how their pride blinds them to the perils of their quest. tart in being the warrior of light has gotten herself killed multiple times, but still charges ahead and acts as a hero out of pride. she was also completely unaware of how her fame would get her targeted by people like teledji. reeq is similar in how he sees himself capable of facing andreia alone, right? yeah there's that, but also

if you did the lvl 80 role quest before liberating eulmore from vauthry and ran'jit, there's a line of dialogue in the role quest which gets altered to reflect the msq progression

reeq is a skilled archer. he's been passionate at it since childhood, and he is good enough at it to successfully hunt dangerous beasts-turned-sin-eater on his own. he wants to be acknowledged with this skill, so he thought to be the greatest hunter of all time, by defeating the current greatest hunter of all time. but she's now been turned to an angel, and here in angel city the god-king of mankind has declared that angels are not to be killed or defeated. and reeq is somehow completely blindsided by this fact. he's 18, there's little possibility he remembers eulmore before vauthry became dictator... but what he definitely remembers are stories about how hunters were famous and admired. he lets his pride as a hunter blind him to the obvious outcome

these two jumped into their respective quests without thinking, only looking to the eventual outcome that they'd be famous. they're shallow, dumb, too prideful for their own good. they don't deserve to be the heroes. and yet out of sheer dumb luck, tart being hydaelyn's chosen one, reeq being born a male mystel allowing him to avoid being taken by andreia, they're the ones who succeed.

then again, despite their shallow reasoning, they do it all because they find out that this is their calling. reeq says at the end of their adventure that he's never felt more alive than when he's on this journey with tart. that was how tart felt when she joined the scions, too. they grow to have deeper motivations, reeq to uphold the warriors of light's legacy, and tart to support alphinaud's resolve. they find their passions and do their best to be proper heroes

that's not even everything but i'll stop here www i didn't set out to ship my wol with reeq because they're similar, but it ends up becoming one of my favorite things about them! i love finding (and making up) parallels so much. they're both just little guys who are so lame and kinda suck. but they get better wwww

anyway thanks again for your question, i love talking about wolreeq so much especially mine--actually i've made a post about what i love about wolreeq in general too. but i love mine more hehe (i made up a ship name for them: lighthunter) please talk to me about them some more, i am demonstrably so normal and hinged about wolreeq. also have pics

[bhaldstyr-ahtahrmsyn]

If you do believe in the afterlife, what kind of afterlife do you think awaits you? (I'll admit to being acutely curious as to the beliefs you've developed for your character :D )

“Hear this wisdom now, beloved friend.

“Ever you have seen, when watching from the bow of your long-ship, a whale of yalms and yalms without measure? He is white and moves with the fog, and so not seen often by feeble eyes of men – but very rarely, one sailor in ten-thousand will glimpse this thing, and his heart will surely tremble.

This whale is broad-back Swygraet, gentle-heart, who carries all the dead to judgment. And when Ahtahrm’s brave son breathes out his last, Swygraet will carry him also – may his brothers be kind, and give him to the sea. 

Down and down into the depths he will go, where only the tongue of Llymlaen High-Winds ever is spoken. –Llymlaen’s tongue is currents and white sea-spray, you understand; the changing warm and cold of ocean waters. The swishing of silver fish tails in the deep.”

“Now.”

“There, beneath the blue, in Navigator’s watery tongue, must Styr now speak his life before the edge of a vast, black deep-chasm. Is here where down fall the unworthy into endless, empty nothingness, you see – feeding only sharks and scuttle-crabs forever, and never finding peace. 

But here Ahtahrm’s humble son must raise his voice, for time is come to judge his days! And in this liquid tongue, he stands and boldly speaks:

He sings of his man- and woman-loves in the shifting of deep-sea currents, and with lashing of kelp fronds shouts his victories in blood-soaked war.

In the burst of a steam-vent he recounts his many grieving sorrows, and silver fish-scales gleam his many dreams: those won, and those which never the high winds bring forth to him. 

…All of this, and more, he sings to Llymlaen Cresting-Wave in heartfelt ocean-song, that she judges the tale of his life. Those who have made most-glory, their saga moves her galewind heart – and these she plucks up from the chasm’s edge, to give her highest honor after life.

–His brothers have been kind to him in death, and sent him on Swygraet’s back with pike-spear and buckler-shield in hands, you understand. These, Llymlaen gilds now in gold and mother-of-pearl for him, that he is seen in all directions, and for many malms. 

She lifts him from the ocean deep, in hands of whipping wind, and joyously she casts him flying up–! up, and far, to gleam forever in the night among the stars.” 

“…Now always his sons and daughters, and grandsons and granddaughters, they mark his place upon their many maps. They look to him, my friend, to guide their way.

They navigate by him forever.”

“…Many more fates are given to the dead; this is only the highest, and the one which is desired most of all. 

Perhaps still there is time, hm? Time to make more of this saga, so that in his death Llymlaen Vast-Waters is moved beyond measure, and casts him high.”

[unbfacts]