#they really hadn't felt this way since Haurchefant

[iron-sparrow]

and you love me 'till my heart stops ⸺ love me till I'm dead eyes that light up, eyes look through you ♫

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

What if WoL instead meets Emet for the first time in Eulmore? As a former Garlean resident she'd recognize the Emperor's face, but she also knows that there are doubles at this point on the First. The chances of the very old and very dead Emperor being on the First being incredibly slim in her mind.

And this person, whoever he was, was very much not an elderly man.

This HC also requires the Chais to not accept the WoL when they enter Eulmore, precipitating the need for another sponsor or needing an alternative means of staying for investigation purposes.

(wish I had a little gpose to go with this but sadly not)

“How strange, so very few take in the sight from up here.” She hadn't noticed anyone else here when she had come here.

She turned to apologise for disturbing him but when she met his gaze she found she couldn't speak. Something about him was familiar, even more familiar than G'raha felt. It was impossible that they would have met, though she would have said he looked like the late Emperor of Garlemald. She had met other look alikes since her arrival here, not exactly the same as those she had once known on the Source. It was possible there was a reflection of the Emperor here. She didn't even know what year it was here, it could be the equivalent of his youth now here.

She shook her head, trying to concentrate again. She was babbling to herself, trying to justify what she saw. It was simple, really.

She wasn't on the Source and no one here, save those very few from the Source, were their counterparts.

“Did anyone tell you it's quite rude to stare and not introduce yourself?” His brow raised and he crossed his arms, looking annoyed save for the twitch of his lips. For all his seeming annoyance, he seemed to be fighting off laughing.

She licked her lips, trying to breathe. “Forgive me, sir. I did not know this balcony was occupied, I will leave.”

“Must you? Merely make up for your rudeness.” He strode towards her, leaning easily on the rail beside her. “Your name, for a start, and an explanation of why you might be out here, sad and dressed thus. Is this not the happiest place in all of Norvrandt?”

She snorted. “Happy for some.”

“True, there are a number of rather unhappy people below.” His lips curled up in a smile. “Now, will you make me guess?”

There was no way for anyone to know her here, and despite his being a stranger, she felt at ease with him. Far more at ease than she had in a very long time. Not since Haurchefant’s death, anyway. “Mina.”

“Mina.” He repeated, looking amused. “Hardly a common name amongst your folk. I'm sure there is quite a story about it.”

“Nothing so exciting, save I wasn't raised amongst my kind.” She wasn't lying, she hadn't been. She knew what her name would have been, but it did not follow the Mystal traditions, so it wasn't worth repeating here. ��As for why I'm out here, my would be patrons have rejected me. It was but a moment of weakness.”

Also not a lie. It was easier to tell a kernel of truth always.

“Ah, you are new to this fair city. No wonder you do not feel the joy and exaltation so many others here do.” He gave a dramatic wave of his arm and rolled his eyes. “And so, you find solace on…” He peered over the rail, seeing only the sea before them and the crystalized wall of Light. “Emptiness?”

“Perhaps the decadence inside was overwhelming.” She shrugged. “I'll have to return eventually, if only to enjoy what brief time I've left.”

“Hm, you'll give up so easily?” He leaned on the rail.

“Hardly.” She grinned. “I've options, I'm told. Something called the Honeybee?”

He scowled. “Surely not, not you. You would be unimpressed and bored of the seductions that happen there within hours. It's hardly a challenge.”

“Maybe I don't want a challenge, the world's tough, and an easy life sounds…” she had trouble keeping a straight face. She knew exactly what the Honeybee was. She would be bored. “Well, the world doesn't always give us what we want.”

He didn't say anything about that, only tapped his fingers distractedly. She was about to excuse herself, claim she wanted to see the city before her removal or find her father even. She didn't want to, she enjoyed their small exchange, but it was a distraction and she only had so much time.

“I could sponsor you.” She stared at him, mouth slightly open. They didn't know each other, there was no reason for him to. Unless he had taken her suggestion of the Honeybee as a sign she was receptive to other things. She wouldn't oppose it, he was nice enough looking, seemingly well toned for what must be a relatively sedentary lifestyle here and despite the exhausted black rings and other signs of middle age below his eyes, his face wasn't so bad. “I've need of a companion and it would give you some protection against the less savoury types of Eulmore.”

“And in exchange?” She asked. If she didn't like the terms, she could say no. If he refused to accept her answer, she didn't need weapons to defend herself, they only made things easier. What little time she had spent here had taught her that nothing was free, even the food supplement moel came with the understanding of obedience.

[ofdragonsdeep]

28: Deleterious

Harmful often in a subtle or unexpected way.

The fourth Lightwarden exacts an unexpected price.

It had been a dour return from Ahm Araeng.

So far, Ar'telan had been able to assuage the concerns of the rest of the Scions. He was long-practised at putting on a brave face and bracing through the pain, and while they all suspected, only Y'shtola had really known for sure how bad the damage was.

'Had' being the operative word.

He had done a fine job at hiding it himself, he thought. He had staggered when the Light hit him, that was true, but none of the others had heard the sound like shattering glass, the uncanny hum of the Light that accompanied everywhere they hadn't brought back the night. The feeling like shards of glass under his skin, that didn't leave a physical mark. He had stood, he had given them a reassuring smile, and he had seen Haurchefant collapsed on the floor.

Ryne had been plying him with stabilising magic for the entire return journey, and she did not leave his side when they returned to the Crystarium proper. At Ar'telan's insistence, he had been taken to their room rather than the Infirmary.

"Is there something you'd like to tell us?" Y'shtola asked, watching as Thancred lay Haurchefant upon the bed.

"No," Ar'telan replied. There was a long moment, before she sighed.

"Keep your silence, then," she said.

"H-he said no," Ryne said, and that only made Y'shtola's frown deepen.

"There we go," Thancred said, stepping back from the bed to let Ryne dart in. "I don't suppose anyone has any theories as to what in the hells just happened?"

"Our companion was stood well behind the most of us," Urianger said, a contemplatitive tone in his voice. "Though the Lightwarden put up a fierce fight, he was surely spared the worst of it."

"But it was the moment it died that he fell," Alisaie said, one of her hands clenched into a fist. "It had to be that. What else could it have been?"

"Even freed from the complications of his corporeal aether, he is not of strong constitution," Alphinaud disagreed. "It could well have been simple exhaustion."

"With that timing?" Alisaie shot back.

"It's the Light," Ryne said. Her voice was quiet, but it cut across the argument all the same. "I can feel it. It's almost like what happens after an attack… but…"

"Can you contain it?" Y'shtola asked. Ryne nodded.

"I can. It's… It's not progressing like an injury would," she replied. "I felt it surge after the Lightwarden died, but it hasn't moved since."

"That's all well and good, but how?" Thancred asked, clearly bemused. Ar'telan made a noise, and all heads turned towards him.

"It's my fault," he said.

"How in the hells could it be your fault?" Alisaie all but snapped back. Ar'telan flinched at the force of it, and she relented, concern and worry clear in her eyes.

"I fear I must ask the same," Urianger agreed.

"Oh," Alphinaud said, understanding hitting him. "Oh. I… see."

"Share with the class, perhaps?" Alisaie demanded. Alphinaud glanced at Ar'telan, who closed his eyes and sighed.

"At the Vault…" he started, walking across the room to where Haurchefant lay, still as the grave. Ryne scurried out of his way, watching as he put one hand over where the spear of light had hit him, all those moons ago. "I… had to save him. I had to. Everything else, it… it didn't work. The wound wouldn't heal. The magic wouldn't touch it."

"Light-aspected aether acts as a potent paralytic of magic force," Alphinaud said. "It wouldn't have mattered how much we tried to heal, it wouldn't have made a difference."

"So I…" The memories were still overwhelming, even now. The Echo, replaying the moment over and over again. Holding Haurchefant's lifeless body in his hands, time after time. Fate pushing back against all his attempts to fight it. "I used my own aether to fill the hole."

"Your own aether?" Alisaie repeated, dumbfounded. Y'shtola, without context but smart enough to piece it together, narrowed her eyes.

"It would not have been a small effort to heal so grave a wound like that," she remarked. "It would have taken a noticable portion of your soul. Years of your life, and if you were lucky, that would be all it took."

"It was the only thing that worked," Ar'telan said, shaking his head. "I tried… I tried so many other things, but the Echo…"

"But if it's your aether in the wound, then…" Thancred began, swinging back around towards the bed. Nimble fingers unded the clasps on Haurchefant's armour, pulling up the chainmail beneath it at a speed that the knight would have appreciated, were he conscious.

The scar was hideous to behold at the best of times, a cracked network of tendrils like lightning fanning out from a clearly fatal wound, jagged and angry. Ar'telan had appreciated it as proof of healing, proof that Haurchefant had survived something that should never have lasted to scar to begin with, but now…

The lines, once carved by magic, were lined with gold. In the centre, where the spear had pierced his flesh, pure, alabaster white.

"Twelve preserve," Alisaie muttered, averting her gaze with a hand to her mouth.

"I-it's stable," Ryne said, though she did not sound certain about it. "I don't believe it will progress any further than it has. Given time, I might be able to contain it, bring him back around again."

"Ar'telan," Thancred said, his voice sharp.

"I'm fine," Ar'telan replied. "I'm not the one unconscious on the bed."

"You are a poor liar," Alphinaud said, folding his arms.

"I'm fine," Ar'telan repeated. He reached a hand out towards the mark, almost without thinking, and felt the tips of his fingers start to tingle.

He heard Ryne shout NO! with a force he had never heard her muster, felt Thancred tackle him to the floor. It should have hurt when he hit the floor, he thought. Those things should have hurt. But when every step felt like walking on glass, when every movement felt like breaking, he didn't register it. Just the feeling that it should have been his.

It was his. It was a part of him still, if he could only.

"Ar'telan. Ar'telan!" The sound of Y'shtola's voice snapped him back into the present. He felt the weight of Thancred, sat on him to hold him down, one hand- one hand on his gunblade?

"He needs to leave. Now," Ryne said, her voice shaking. Thancred glanced down at Ar'telan, and flinched away from him when he looked back.

"Yeah. Up with you, let's go," he agreed, shifting backwards and hauling Ar'telan to his feet after him. Ar'telan staggered, a dizziness in his head at the motion, and offered no resistance as Thancred escorted him out.

What was happening to him?

---

Thancred took him out of the Pendants entirely, leading him over to the Wandering Stairs with a hand at his back the entire time. Ar'telan watched, still shell-shocked, as Thancred pulled a chair out and sat him down in it, before easing himself into the one opposite and motioning to the barmaid for a drink.

"So. When were you going to tell us?" he asked. Ar'telan blinked.

"Tell you what?" he asked in return. His fingers felt stiff, barely moving at his command, but he fought through it. Thancred heaved a sigh.

"That you're dying, Ar'telan."

"I'm not."

Cylva came over with a tray, a flagon of ale placed in front of Thancred, and a mug of water in front of Ar'telan. She gave them both a long look, but said nothing before retreating back to the bar. Thancred gave her a nod of appreciation, and took a long drink.

"You're still a bad liar."

Ar'telan pulled the mug of water over and stared down into it, no intention to drink. The distorted reflection made his eyes look golden, and he grimaced.

"I'm fine. I can handle it."

Thancred leaned back in his chair, giving Ar'telan a long, measured look. It was rare to see such a serious look on his face, and Ar'telan had a hard time meeting his gaze.

"Alright. Sure. So we'll pretend that everything's fine and dandy with you. What about Haurchefant?" Ar'telan flinched. "His aether is your aether, apparently. A reckless move that puts even our resident sorceress to shame, by the way."

"None of you were there to dissuade me, in my defence." Thancred cracked a slight smile at that.

"Paragon of good decisions, me," he agreed. "But you can't pretend that it's ok. That you can carry on ignoring the consequences and pretending they'll go away."

"Ryne said he was stable."

"He is. But there's one Lightwarden left. And like it or not, a part of you would make a Sin Eater of him."

The silence was long, hanging uncomfortably in the bustle and clamour of the bar. Rather than stare at his unwanted drink, Ar'telan tried to memorise the patterns in the wood of the table, instead. Eventually, Thancred sighed.

"So. What was your plan?"

"I don't have a plan."

"Bollocks you don't. Tell me."

Ar'telan grimaced again. The motion felt sluggish, like trying to swim through muddy water, and he didn't like it.

"I… didn't have anything concrete," he said, holding up a hand when Thancred started to protest it. "I wasn't sure if it would be too much. I thought… I thought that if the Exarch believed I could do it, then the odds were good, surely. But I did… I did think about it." Thancred waited, arms crossed over his chest. "I thought if it was too much, I could… travel back to the Source. Without a destination."

"And pitch the Light into the Rift with you," Thancred finished, and Ar'telan nodded, once. He got another heavy sigh for his trouble. "Well, that's not going to work, is it?"

"I knew you'd say that."

"Putting aside my own concerns with your plan to kill yourself for the sake of this reflection, which we willbe revisiting at a later date, that is not what I meant," Thancred disagreed. "Because there's one Lightwarden left, and whether you can survive it or not, he can't."

"Ryne-"

"Cannot work miracles, Ar'telan! She's barely had this power for the span of a day, and you'd have her fend off the teeth of an entire Lightwarden?" Ar'telan stared back down at the table. "So I'd say that decides it, doesn't it? No more Lightwardens." Ar'telan took a deep breath. It did not steady him in the slightest.

"Someone must. And I am the only one here who can. You know that."

"Only because you're the only one the Exarch cared to think of!" Thancred exclaimed, before pulling himself back with a shake of his head when Ar'telan flinched away from him. "This can't be the only solution. I won't let it be. Even if I was fine with your idea to be rid of the Light, which I'm not, I won't let you go to your death knowing you've doomed him, too. I can't let you do that to yourself, do you hear me?" Ar'telan clenched his hands slowly into fists as Thancred spoke, wishing he could unhear it. Wishing he could go on not thinking about it. Pretending it was fine. Pretending he was enough of a hero to save this world. Pretending he hadn't failed them all.

"The last remaining Lightwarden is in Kholusia," he said, sidestepping it as if it mattered. "If the Eulmorran army's movements so far have been any indication, they won't let us ignore it. So unless you have some way to deal with them while we wait for a hero that isn't going to come-"

"It doesn't have to be you!" Thancred exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table as he said it. "Every time, it's you. You who suffers, you who survives, you who has to weather the fallout. But it doesn't have to be! We… we can…"

"I'm the only one who can hold the Light. You know that." Thancred's clenched hands were shaking.

"But there has to be something," he said, voice catching on the words. "Something I can do. Anything that isn't just sitting here and watching you waste away."

The sound of Thancred's linkpearl cut through the silence that was all Ar'telan had to offer in reply. Ar'telan put a hand to his ear automatically, but it was only Thancred they were speaking to this time.

"You're sure?" Surprise replaced the pain on his face, just for a moment. "Alright. I'll- yes, I know, I know." He looked over at Ar'telan. "Ryne says he's awake." A hand touched against his before he could even begin to rise from his chair. "And you can't go."

"Don't tell him," Ar'telan managed, and Thancred sighed.

"You know I don't have any choice, Ar'telan," he replied, and that was the end of that.

---

The silence stretched out in front of him like a shroud.

It felt like a particularly capricious kind of cruelty. At least when Haurchefant had lain still and unresponsive in the chirurgeon's bed, Ar'telan had been able to be there. When they hadn't been sure if he would wake again, Ar'telan had been able to be there. When the consequences of Ar'telan's actions had-

No, no, that wasn't fair. Haurchefant had chosen to be there at the Vault - had fair begged his father to be allowed to accompany them. Had chosen to block the spear of his own volition. And, if every cursed Echo-vision he had clawed his way through had been right, had been happy to do it, if it meant Ar'telan lived another day.

Thancred was right. It was always him. Always him surviving, always he who found the bodies, always he who made the final stand, the successful stand. It wasn't fair to punish others for the hook fate pulled him along with. Wasn't fair to damn others by proximity. He had consoled himself with the knowledge that at least this was his choice - that he was leaving so many behind, but it would only be him that had to die. And he wasn't even allowed that simple solace.

"You look stiff as a corpse," Ardbert's voice remarked from behind him, and he let out a heavy sigh. Of course the ghost had seen all of that. Of course he knew what Ar'telan had done by proxy. Of course. If he had simply died back there in the Bowl of Embers like they'd wanted, would it have saved them?

No. Elidibus had sought a Rejoining, not salvation. It wouldn't have achieved anything other than further suffering.

"Not having the best day, I take it."

Ardbert couldn't sit in the chairs, but he stood where Thancred had been sat, crouching down to try and mimic the action. Ar'telan watched him with tired eyes.

"You don't have a solution."

No-one looked askance at him for signing to empty air, at least. Ardbert sighed.

"No. I don't," he agreed. "If I did, I'd've offered it long before now." The idea seemed to sit poorly with him - he was just as frustrated as Thancred, what passed for his body tense and unhappy. "If I could take the Light for you, I would. Hells, if I could take it for him I would. It's not like I can get any deader."

"I think you could manage it."

Ar'telan managed a slight smile at that, but it didn't seem to amuse Ardbert all that much.

"I hate to watch it," he admitted. "Back then, she… she said I had a role to play. But if that role is to watch you die, I don't want it!" He tried to kick the table, and his foot went straight through the legs. "But if you want, I… I'll stay with him. Hells only know he won't be going to Kholusia with you."

"I don't think the others are going to let me go to Kholusia, Ardbert."

"Aye, but when has that ever stopped you?" Ardbert replied, the ghost of a grin on his face. Ar'telan grimaced.

"You can't. You're tied to me, aren't you?"

"Sure am. But if there's enough of you in his soul to be turning him into a ghost, I reckon there's enough for me to stick around. For you, if no-one else." He frowned then "Do you think he can see me?"

"Ask him yourself."

"Maybe I will," Ardbert retorted, then sighed. "Look, it's not much. It's barely anything. But it's something, isn't it? Something I can do. Something…"

Ar'telan picked up his hands to reply, but Cylva came over to them then. Ardbert regarded her with an indecipherable look as she picked up Thancred's empty flagon, before turning her gaze to Ar'telan.

"Not a drinker?" she asked, and Ar'telan grimaced. "No problem." She picked up the empty mug, shuffling the other empty glasses on her tray around to accomodate it. "Keep your chin up. Times are strange, these days, but the Crystarium has your back." She put a hand on his shoulder, as if to reassure, and the touch felt real, rather than the horrible numbness that kept haunting him. He blinked.

"…Thanks," he managed. "We'll finish it. I swear."

"Aye, I'm sure you will," Cylva agreed. There was no joy in her voice at the thought. "Best of luck to you."

"If only we'd known," Ardbert murmured, his voice quiet. "I'll be right back, eh?"

And for the first time since he had arrived in the First, Ar'telan found himself truly alone.

---

Ar'telan was not allowed into the same room as Haurchefant, nor even to see him, but even stood outside listening to the Scions talk, he could feel him. Or feel himself, that tiny, pulsing point of light and aether that had bridged the gaps in Haurchefant's own. Saving him to damn him later.

Ar'telan would never forgive the Exarch for the price they were paying.

Ryne explained that Haurchefant had been told what was happening. What it meant. He had immediately offered to take the aether of the final Lightwarden himself, as if that would help matters any, and been roundly denied.

At a time that Ar'telan could roughly match to Ardbert seeking him out, he had gone from "conscious" to "sitting up", and had been forbidden from trying to stand. The diagnosis was grim: he would not survive the final Lightwarden. And, by extension, neither would Ar'telan.

Urianger and Y'shtola had followed this up with an argument that Ar'telan had missed in its entirety, sat wallowing in his own misery in the Wandering Stairs. Y'shtola had gone to seek out the Exarch, and Urianger had retreated to a private room, clearly conflicted. The twins were still with Haurchefant, and Thancred had gone to add his weight to the suggestion that the man didn't move, and that led to Ar'telan finding himself alone with Ryne, stood in the middle of the chaos and entirely separate from it all.

"I have a suggestion," she admitted, after glancing at the door to ensure nobody would overhear it. "But I don't… think they'll like it."

"That doesn't bode well for my approval," Ar'telan said, and she raised clasped hands to her chest, as if to protect it.

"N-no, but… it's all we have," she said. "I'm not… as strong as you. I don't have a soul like yours. But I do have… Minfilia. Her Blessing."

"No."

"I'm not saying I should do it alone!" Ryne said, her voice almost rising enough that she could be overheard. A terrified glance at the door confirmed that she had realised that herself, and she quickly shook her head. "But if I stand there with you, I can… I can take just a little."

"…That won't save us." It felt cruel to sign that to her, to dash her youthful hopes upon the rocks. She took a deep breath.

"It won't save you," she agreed, her fingers tightening. "But it… it might save him." She glanced back at the room once more. "I feel like… there's something there with him. Watching over him. I can't explain it, but he feels a little safer. So I think if I took just a little, it would be enough for him to not be overwhelmed." She bit her lip at that, staring down at the floor for a long while before daring to look back up for his answer.

"But not me," he said. She nodded. Gods, what was he doing? She was just a child. She and the twins both shouldn't have had to shoulder that knowledge - the knowing what he was going to do. Knowing they couldn't save him. For all his vaunted strength, he couldn't even protect those he cared about the most. "Fine," he said. "If it'll save Haurchefant… that's enough." He could see her resolve waver, her uncertainty sink in. Every trembling limb, the drop of blood on the edge of a well-worried lip, the stiff way she stood. She would blame herself for the rest of her life for not being enough, he knew that. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Ar'telan shook his head.

"You are the last person who has to apologise for this."

He had made his choice. He had steeled himself long ago for this eventuality.

He just wished that he could say goodbye.

[anneapocalypse]

I have a few ships for Ariane (she has a big unrequited crush on Minfilia before her disappearance, and a brief but intense love affair with Haurchefant up until his death; yes she has had very terrible luck), but her "endgame" ship is Urianger. They have a long friends-to-lovers slow burn, and Urianger was kind of a slow-burn fave for me as well! It was in the Heavensward patches that I really began to love him and pay more attention to him, and I truly had no idea at the time how well that was going to pay off later with how much wonderful character development he gets. He has become one of my favorite characters in FFXIV, and I find him both deeply relatable and fascinating to dig into in terms of the lore surrounding him. Also he's just an absolute delight to write, and I'm really looking forward to sharing more of what I've been working on.

I mostly prefer NPC ships for my character because I can write what I want for them and indulge as much as I like without having to depend on someone else's interest in the ship remaining as strong as mine. I'm a mostly solitary writer and while I'm not totally opposed to collaboration, or RP, when it's a ship I deeply love, it's nice to have it be my own space.

My husband and I do have an AU where our characters are together, but we haven't done all that much with it; he has NPC ships for his character as well, which I love for him.

I had toyed with the idea of Urianger as a ship for Ariane for a while, but it took some time to figure out how it would happen and when the timing would be right. It definitely couldn't have happened for them any earlier than it did, because neither of them would have been ready for a relationship. Ariane is grieving Haurchefant for a long time, and Urianger is grieving Moenbryda, and they both have a lot of complicated feelings about themselves tied up in that, with Urianger blaming himself, and Ariane blaming Hydaelyn. But in many ways it's that grief that draws them to one another.

Ariane wasn't close to Urianger when Moenbryda died, and felt there was little comfort she could offer at the time. The Warriors of Darkness incident was a sort of confluence of things happening for her. In saying goodbye to Minfilia she accepted that Minfilia had made a choice, had not been taken against her will, and that Haurchefant had made a choice too. And in seeing how long Urianger had labored alone and in secret, she realized he really wasn't okay and hadn't been since Moenbryda, and she thought, maybe somebody better like. Check in with him, now and then.

So from then on, and throughout Stormblood, every week or two when she could she'd take the aetheryte to Western Thanalan and stop in at the Waking Sands. "Just checking in" turned into "Wilt thou stay for a cup of tea?" and they talked about magic and books, and Ariane started bringing little gifts like a new variety of tea or a new translation of Far Eastern poetry, and it turned out they had a lot in common actually: both big readers and students of magic, both inclined toward the healing arts, both fond of poetry, both socially awkward nerds with complicated relationships to their families who treasured deep friendships but did not form them easily, and of course both having experienced great loss and grief in their lives.

When Urianger got pulled away to the First, they both realized how terribly they missed each other, and of course things got a bit complicated in Shadowbringers, and they might have confessed their feelings for each other a lot sooner had the Exarch's secrets not driven some distance between them. Ariane needed some time to be okay about it, and Urianger gave it to her. But they worked things out, and on the eve of the Scions' risky return to the Source, they did finally confess their feelings for one another and have been together since.

What I love about them is that even with how much they have in common as people, I don't think they would ever have ended up together if not for connecting over certain shared experiences. Both of them have loved and lost (my headcanon is that Urianger and Moenbryda were on-again off-again romantic, they definitely loved each other but it was complicated), and those earlier loves were no less real to either of them because they were ended by tragedy. Neither of them could have been with somebody who expected their love to eclipse all others in their life, or to heal all the wounds of the past just by existing. Love, and life, are bigger and more complex than that.

Almost forgot to add pics!

Chatting in the Waking Sands:

Making eyes at each other in Il Mheg:

Staying warm in Garlemald:

Another random WoLQotD/OC question

I thought I'd ask this while I worked on my other questions. :)

If you're a WoL x NPC shipper, what drew you to that ship and why? What makes that ship the pinnacle for you and your oc? Is it that you love the canon character you write them with, you find their dynamic interesting or something in between?

If you're not a WoL x NPC shipper, but you have a ship with another person, how did that come about? What makes that ship fulfilling for you? Has the ship impacted your relationship with that other person? Feel free to gush, I wanna hear it!

Oh, and pictures are a must (if you have them).

[theferalscion]

Caged :3

Caged

Of course he'd be put right back to his usual mundane tasks the moment he came home. No 'welcome back', no 'we missed you'. Emmanellain hardly expected a huge party for the prodigal son, but perhaps a glass of champagne or something wouldn't have gone amiss.

But he supposes he should be glad he got off with a lecture that only seemed to last at most half an hour. He wishes he'd had Alphinaud or Tataru with him at that time, then maybe he would have found the strength to defend himself. To explain why he'd run off in the first place, and tell both his father and Artoirel everything he'd done when he left.

By himself, though, all his courage just withered away, and he felt like a child again, standing there with his head hung and his ears pulled back, taking the tongue lashing silently until he was so overwhelmed with guilt he was ready to do anything asked of him to make amends, to make himself feel a little better.

So, to Camp Cloudtop he went...

Lanaitte was less than thrilled to see him, of course. Emmanellain didn't feel any better seeing her, either. He forces a smile anyway, pretends like it's good to see an old friend, and like it doesn't hurt to notice now how cold she is with him, how often she rolls her eyes even when he says nothing particularly offensive.

He doesn't know how to tell her that he overheard what she really thought of him, or how he'd explain why he isn't as happy to see her as he always used to be, so he just pretends. Pretends he doesn't notice her cold reception and pretends he doesn't realize now that every task she gives him is just an excuse to get him away from her. So he accepts the rather insulting job of standing watch for dragons, not wanting to make a fuss.

Unfortunately, Haurchefant has been spreading word of Emmanellain's deeds in Eorzea, and naturally, the knights are curious to see if there is any truth at all to this. He suspects they think he was lying to his brother, telling tall tales about false heroics. So he doesn't get to just stand watch and go back home with nothing of incident to report. Camp Cloudtop assigns him a slightly more demanding task...fetching water crystals. Delightful.

At least they're not sending him off to fight dragons.

Of course, he's a fool for believing that this would go without incident. He goes off alone, into territory of Camp Cloudtop that he hasn't even explored before, and searches every damn sparkly rock there to find a suitable crystal.

Only to feel a heavy thwack to the back of his head and slumping forward unconscious.

He wakes up in a wooden cage, head throbbing and vision spinning. Just barely he can make out his surroundings, and recognizes the form of Vanu Vanu. It's been ages since he saw one, but he hasn't forgotten. He'd thought that the tribes were on friendly terms with the Ishgardians, however. Didn't they regularly trade or some such thing? Why in the world would they capture him?

When he attempts to inquire as much of the nearest Vanu Vanu, the beastman just...dances threateningly at him. Wonderful.

Shaking his head, Emmanellain searches his side and finds that his weapon has been taken. He's going to have to think quickly to get himself out of this-

Another sharp, splitting pain goes through his head and he winces, curling forward and holding his face in his hands. Oh this is going to be fun...

-

He doesn't know how Haurchefant knew to come to his aid, nor does he particularly care. But his brother frees him from his cage and even gives him a weapon. Side by side they fight their way free, even though Emmanellain nearly topples over at several points from the searing pain in his skull.

It's not an easy fight to survive, even if he hadn't been nearly unconscious the whole time, and of course then there's a primal because why wouldn't there be. His life abruptly decided to never be easy or simple ever again the moment he ran away from Ishgard, and he supposes that's his punishment for not agreeing to be a good little noble lord for the rest of his existence.

"We need to get a healer here as quickly as possible..." Haurchefant insists, helping Emmanellain through the door of Fortemps manor.

"That would be lovely." Emmanellain mutters, not sure how much longer he can stay conscious. "I'm very much not looking forward to being lectured on my failure..."

"You only did as you were asked, my brother."

Emmanellain gives a weak snort. "And I did it wrong. I was careless. I didn't watch my surroundings close enough. I should have brought someone with me. I should have asked beforehand about any threats in the area. 'Should have should have should have'...that's all I'm going to hear...honestly, why do I bother..."

Haurchefant doesn't have an answer for him. He sits Emmanellain down on the couch in front of the fire and goes to fetch a chirurgeon, leaving the youngest noble to face a disappointed father alone.

Emmanellain smiles weakly at the fire as he hears familiar approaching footsteps. "Like I never even left..."

[bloomingscales]

"If...you are comfortable here.. So am I," she admits. Her roundabout way of asking to stay like this. Had au ra a version of purring, she would be doing so. Instead, she continues to stay curled up. Feeling protected and secure in a way she hadn't experienced before. But it was...oddly familiar in a sense.

Tears prick her eyes when the realization hits. She hadn't felt so warm and cared for since Haurchefant so many years ago. When she had really just started her adventure.

Within moments, her arms are wrapped around his neck, burying her face against him and she holds him tight.

"You're not allowed to die on me, okay?" It may seems as if it came from no where, but she couldn't bare to lose another warm soul like his. "I mean, I know the blizzard won't kill us, but.." She settles back in his lap and holds one of his hands in both of hers. It's an odd habit of hers, but one would know if she had romantic intent towards them if she touched or played with their hand.

Now holding his hand in her lap, one of her hands goes to his chest to feel for a heartbeat.

[cold]

Coerthas Central Highlands, Eorzea.

They didn't have much reason to be here other than the fact that A'xivrus had suggested they come to see something that he labeled as dear to him. But, ah... a blizzard was beginning to roll through the area and their current position was not near any form of shelter or suitable cover.

Personally, he was fine. His body adapted to weather conditions, scales moving and adjusting depending upon the temperature. Currently they stacked on top of themselves, a layer across his entire body that provided insulation, trapping his body heat to create a cycle of self-heating and invigoration.

But, Chigusa here... she was petite, holding very little body heat. He could not let her freeze in such weather conditions, as the temperature dropped to dangerously low levels, the wind nipping at their skin through their clothes. Fire-imbued blade met frozen ice as he carved an opening into the side of an ice boulder, a small one that, from the looks of it, could really only fit one person. It certainly wasn't tall enough for him.

He took off his coat and wrapped it around her, pausing briefly, “If this is uncomfortable for you, I apologize, but I will not let you freeze. Bear with me until the blizzard passes.”

He'd place his Paladin shield upon his back as he pushed into the hole, scales readjusting to expose his chest and arms as he guided Chigusa into the tight enclosure with him. The shield upon his back would block any ice that might fall on the two of them. He held the other close, his body heat enough to warm both of them even as his ears flattened and he let out a shuddered breath due to the wind that battered his arm.

As long as she did not freeze... he would be fine.