#though she is a Lightwarden and not a primal

[neoma-eltanin]

Auraugust 2023

Day 4: Primal

Neoma has thankfully never had to deal directly with any primal, however if she had to fight any of them, I feel it would be quite symbolic for it to be one of the opressors of Doma.

[unionizedwizard]

OC asks for Irma: bound, hunt, skin?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

she was made to take part in an attempted primal summoning as a child (as the catalyst), surviving only thanks to hydaelyn's intervention (whisking her away in the lifestream opening cutscene-style before irreversible damage to her soul could be inflicted). sort of like a reverse lightwarden corruption situation (this is a secret tool that will help us later!). her soul was flooded with umbral-aspected aether (lightning, specifically), and she was very notably not meant to survive - the fact that she did, as well as the circumstances in question (the triggering of the blessing of light), were unexpected, but deemed interesting by the ritual's instigator, which is why he let her get away :)

of course, although she lived, she didn't escape unscathed; her soul was stabilised and solidified by the power of stasis that hydaelyn embodies, but it was, as it were, sundered again almost all the way through, so her soul is "cracked". this manifests as an enhanced affinity for black magick & offensive spellcraft in general, but with a rather heavy drawback: she can't wield healing magick (at least not in the traditional way), a condition which she learned about when she tried to train as a conjurer post ARR (whenever she tries to meditate/enter the state that allows the caster to heal, she falls unconscious). (this was somewhat remedied right before EW). also, as a secondary (and minor) consequence, her eyes (which were originally green) turned black. this whole ordeal (as well as the years that preceded it) was wiped from her memory as a consequence of the enormous amount of energy that passed through her body so her earliest (and very hazy) memories are of the aftermath, when she was sent to ul'dah (or smuggled would be the more accurate verb lol), with no idea that the name on her passport was not her original name...

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

two things: the everpresent, looming shade of Duty; and the gnawing belief that she's actually a monster, deep down, because of her combat capabilities (and inclinations). (both are linked and feed into each other). zenos' monologue at the royal menagerie hit her, and badly so, because he expressed his lust for combat in the exact same terms she'd been using - privately, not speaking her mind to anyone, and she's always been terrified of having her most deeply-seated fears be confirmed, and she hates zenos (more than she ever hated anyone) because deep down she's convinced he's right about her, and about the both of them. she's always on the alert and has trouble letting her guard down long enough to fall asleep also :)

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

irma has always favored discreet, highly concealing, multi-layered clothes (fortunately, mage robes are generally fitting for this purpose). she has also never believed herself beautiful so she never really tried to pay attention to her appearance, though she does make a point of personal pride in wearing well-cut, good quality (and more importantly, clean) garments. she owns some perfume but doesn't have many opportunities to use it. if asked about it, she'll say in a very matter-of-fact way that "she knows where her strengths lie and acts accordingly". her only concession to vanity has always been her hair, which is an object of pride and that she takes great care of (as much as she can with the life she leads, anyway...). she almost always wears gloves (worn black leather ones) and refuses to show skin as a rule (she considers it a show of vulnerability). there is a deep, lingering shame about her as a whole, that she masks with rigid efficiency & a stoic mindset

as for the second part of the question: as indicated above, the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of herself has been thoroughly expunged from her memory (until post EW that is). denial and repression ARE her most practised skills at this point!

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  4. 'broken / trust.'

She was a veritable tour de force– an absolute nightmare of a woman. Yet, despite what the bards might sing, she was just as human as any other.

-> part I.

-> cw: suggestive themes.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Wait– Gods– I’ll be sick.”

Overindulging in drink and dancing on bloody feet had left a typhoon of a woman clinging to the bark of a pixie apple tree for a semblance of stability.

He halted his stride with a huff and readjusted his grip on their youngest charge to wait with waning patience. He had half-expected to carry one of them home, but not certainly not Ryne, though he heard Alphinaud and Alisaie had met with similar fates. Y’shtola had done him a service and seen to their care, as well as Urianger's-- and must be thankful, for that was one man he did not want to carry across the Crystarium grounds.

That only left their most important cargo to him– how lucky he was-- and if Tsuna did not get ahold of herself, he feared he would soon find himself out of hands. 

He looked on past the treetops, to the early morning sky peeking through the crystal dome to find a moment to wax poetic. “Destroyer of Primals, Lightwarden’s Bane... but a flagon of ale has not ceased to bring the Warrior of Darkness to her knees, I see.”

Tsuna shot a pointed look in his direction. “P-Piss off,” she droned, half-way between a hiss and a whine. "You're making it worse."

All he could do was offer his own exhausted smirk at her expense. 

It was true. Tsuna Wasaishi could fell all manner of beasts with enough willpower and sheer dumb luck, but the stairs to her chambers seemed her most daunting adversary yet.

Ryne had been put to bed, which freed his attention to better escort the stumbling woman into his chambers on the first floor to circumvent the climb.

She fell upon his mattress in a heap, looking at once grateful for sturdy ground.

“Off,” she mumbled. Her knuckles tapped the hard cage of her corset and drew his exhausted sigh. “Please,” she added, weakly. Even at her wits end she still found it pertinent to be cordial, and he had no choice but to oblige.

Tsuna slumped forward for him, pulling her hair loose and tossing it over her clammy shoulder to better offer her laces. The cotton of the cincher was damp to the touch, her skin still shone with sweat. He thumbed the laces, pulling them free from the centre-outward, and as he broke her free from the busk, and immediately she began to breathe easier.

He had to wonder why one woman would put herself through so much for such pain just to numb another.

She offered him a shy look from over her bare shoulder, muttering something so incoherent he could only barely piece it together. “... stay with me?” she asked.

He was struck by the blunt force three words could bring. It was not as if they hadn’t shared a night in the past. Even so, he stood from the bed, only to prostrate himself before her, if only to make her more comfotable.

“I would not leave you in such a sorry state.” It was the truth, though he chuffed to hide from his own trepidation. “It’s all right. You needed this.”

Tsuna closed her eyes agreeably, and nodded, softly humming in perceived content as he fished for her ankle under her dress’ hem. 

“You’re my dearest friend, Thancred. Y'know that, yes?”

His hands paused. He knew. Gods, he knew. They mapped each other's hurts like no one else ever would.

How many times had he found himself wanting to sit outside her door for that very reason?

Slowly, she picked up her skirts before him, and rose them high to aid in his task. Completely unabashed, she revealed to him the shapely, naked length of her legs for a show. His eyes were drawn down to the map of scales hugging her sides, then up– up to the lazy, amused smile curling her lips. She looked down on him, a supplicant, and a familiar heat rushed through him.

“I could tell you anything,” she whispered, softer. “Couldn’t I?”

He bit his cheek, tilting his chin down, trying to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Of course.”

Thancred’s hands smoothed up her firm calves and carefully removed the battered heel from her right foot. Her soles were angry and blistered from her hours of revelry, and so with the same care he removed the left, though it was there that he lingered. The thumb on her calve began to move in easy circles to loosen the band of muscle grown taut with pain and overuse. Tsuna drew in a sharp breath and squirmed in his hands, and the hem rose higher still.

He crept up past her knee, and settled on her lower thigh before he stopped himself. 

He had broken her trust before, and he would not do so again– even if she were more than willing. 

“Keep going.”

Her hand clasped over his own, and drew it upwards, his thumb reaching beneath her skirts, to dip into the crease of her thigh for a tantalizing moment. He knew what she wanted, and he would visit all seven of the Hells if he admitted he wished the same. The Gods only knew how long he had been bereft. 

It took all he had to retract his hand, despite her protests. “I won’t,” he muttered firmly under his breath. “Not like this.”

“Why?" Tsuna sat upright, lips twisted in hurt. "Gods– Warm me.” He looked away, rueful, only managing to raise her frustration. “You said so: I need this–” Her voice fell soft, desperate. Her hands clasped his face, stroking lines across his cheeks in order to pull him in. 

She was looking for another way to drown, and he would not have a part in it.

“It wouldn’t be the first–”

“All the more reason not to make the same mistake twice,” he interrupted, pulling her hands from him. “Another time. Another place.” And he would.

A kiss was pressed to her palm, and she was struck silent.

He used the opportunity to stand, to begin the ritual of shucking his coat to prepare for his own rest, when without so much as a sound, she reached for his now-naked hand, and despite it all– despite everything– his thumb ran careful circles over her knuckle.

She needed something more than just a warm body beside her, and it was something he could not provide.

[minarcana]

@aetheryic asked:

“I can’t wait to get possessed.” ryne @ laurel ask meme // accepting

Laurel reaches over to plop her hand on Ryne's head and ostensibly ruffles her hair, but more accurately shakes her around a little bit. "Don't let your dads hear you saying that." Barely let Laurel hear her saying that, though Laurel can at least understand where Ryne's coming from.

Thancred and Urianger, on the other hand, are worrywarts. To put it lightly. "The important part of making sure everyone has confidence in your ability to channel primal amounts of light aether is not getting possessed. I can't imagine it'd be pleasant." Light's uncomfortable... while Laurel doubts Ryne's attempts to channel primals through Eden or whatever it is she's schemed up are going to be anything like Laurel's overdose on lightwardens, it was still an unpleasant thing to be chock full of! She sighs. "Want a snack, while we're on break?" It's largely to make sure Laurel isn't low on aether, but it seems that a significant reason is Thancred and Urianger arguing amongst themselves for ways that Ryne will not, in fact, have to get possessed.

[charulein]

Right, I wanted to do like a liveblog of shadowbringers but honestly I kinda forgot

Anyways, it's looking worse by the minute lads

I have cleared the third lightwarden by now, and well, the story continues, does it not? Tbh the lightwardens just don't really do it for me, design-wise. The sin-eaters seem to be such a cool concept and then you blow it on the bosses, making them less than memorable...

Il Mheg was annoying, the dungeon was annoying, and Titania had the most annoying boss music I've ever heard. All in all, I didn't enjoy this at all, and with how the story was weaving by then, and how fake Minfilia correctly assumes that her presence hurts everybody around her because she's not Minfilia - I have an inkling that we won't be bringing Minfilia back, but that this fake one will prevail.

But that is not our decision to make now, is it?

Raktika went off with the music and the bunny guardians and the kinda aztec-y ruins of the Ronkan people, and thankfully the buns didn't bore one with all the history of their ppls and such - unlike the religious group Y'shtola chose to join. I never liked her much, and I believe that I never will. Then she threw herself off a cliff into the lifestream and not five minutes later she was back. Woo. Thanks for that Emet, great job.

Also, the idea of Hydaelin being a primal to destroy Zodiark...? Dunno, either they're both primals or neither are. And this very Ascian-biased story of the evil light? I'm not buying it - Hydaelin was probably summoned because Zodiark would have doomed the world or some shit - though, regrettably, I really don't care about this plot...

Then we see the black wolf and uhhh dragoon buddy talk, and zenos returning..............................................................................................

Then sin eaters attacked, people died, thancred was sad, emet talked too much etc. I'm REALLY hoping we'll bring back Minfilia now after fake minfilia finally saw reason, but I have a hunch we won't.

And so the snoozebringers speedrun continues...

[theoreticalconstruct]

[FFXIV] Clearing the Air (Fic)

AU in Shadowbringers, lv. 74 (An Unwanted Proposal). There's no way that Quizzie wouldn't have burst through that door after hearing the conversation. I just really wanted to write something about the four of them clearing things up, at least a little.

Relationship: Thancred Waters/Urianger Augurelt/f!Highlander!WoL/Y'shtol Rhul Prompt: @polyamships June 2023 PolyamShippingDay (Trust)

AO3 link: Here.

---

Quizzie was having a difficult time on the First. She hadn’t expected it to be easy, hunting Lightwardens – she’d figured they weren’t much different from Primals, and going up against one of them was never easy. And the fighting itself, she could handle. It was what came after that hurt.

Since she’d learned to fight she hadn’t had that much trouble with anger; it was her way of staying in control. But she hadn’t felt in control since she’d felt Philia’s Light make her its new home, permeating her flesh and crowding out her soul. She would look at her reflection over and over again, sure that she must look different, that there must be light shining through cracks in her skin. But no, she couldn’t see any sign of it.

But she could sure as Hells feel it. Like cold fire, simultaneously freezing her solid and burning her alive. Made her feel like she couldn’t take a step at times, like it just wanted her to freeze in place, let her mind go empty.

It hadn’t been an easy conversation, not after overhearing Y’shtola talk to Urianger about her. She’d known that Urianger was keeping a secret; she’d learned his tells after his last big secret, and after their last night together she’d told him so. The only reason she hadn’t tried to twist it out of him was because he’d said it wasn’t his secret to tell, which didn’t leave a lot of options as to whose it could’ve been. Nor had Y'shtola's revelation been a surprise - she had only described how Quizzie had felt in her own terms, how could be not believe it?

It was the anger and pain in her voice that had hurt Quizzie, though she couldn't rightly say why she'd burst through the door to confront them. Maybe she'd just been tired of the tension between the three people she loved - Y'shtola and Thancred had barely tolerated each other, and now she was fighting with Urianger as well. She couldn't help but worry about them - about losing them all, somehow or another - and so she'd tested the door, and found that it opened.

The two of them had had hard words to say to each other, now that they knew she was aware of their arguments. And when Thancred came to see why the three had not yet left, he joined into the argument as well, with gusto.

“Why would you not tell us this from the start?” Thancred sounded more hurt than angry; she had a feeling that he and Urianger were closer now than before, which didn’t surprise her, considering that Y’shtola had gone her way not long after arriving. Maybe he'd thought Urianger wouldn't keep any more secrets, or maybe he'd expected he would be the exception.

Urianger was in despair - she knew he could be dangerous when he was angry, and the anger and pain were there, right below the surface. But he hid it well. “If thou wouldst try to understand my position, mayhap t'would not be folly for me to attempt to explain -”wouldst try

“How can we trust any explanation you would give?” Y’shtola interrupted him, glaring up at him - she was just as terrifying in rage as she remembered. “I honestly thought that we were past this -”

Quizzie hadn’t said much to that point. That light twisting inside of her... it was going to make her say something she couldn’t take back. She just knew it. But seeing them tear at each other like that hurt her soul, the part that hadn’t been scorched by the light.

“I wanna trust you,” she finally said, the words coming out before she could stop herself. “Every one of you.”

That stopped all three of them mid-sentence, made them all turn to look at her.

“It ain’t that I don’t get it,” she said in a small voice. “I do. I remember when we ‘ad that talk, Urianger – ‘ow I wished you’d understand what it felt like fer me, to not be trusted.”

“How couldst I have forgotten?” he said softly - more like the Urianger she remembered from the Source, always hiding himself away.

“Aye,” she said, giving him a small smile. “I might’ve been sloshed that night, but I ain’t forgotten it neither. Why did ye think I could see through ye in Il Mheg so easy?”

“You... knew he was hiding something?” Thancred looked at her, dumbstruck. “I didn’t even know -”

“Thancred,” Y’shtola said, more gently than before, “you had... other concerns on your mind. You can’t expect to keep track of everything.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Even so, I should have...”

“Thancred.” She walked up to him and took his hand. “She’s right. I’m pretty sure we’re all outta our depths ‘ere – I didn’t even know how much til now.” She smiled sardonically, looking down at her hand as if it would shatter at any moment.

He looked between the two of them, from Y’shtola to Quizzie, then closed his eyes. “Yeah. We are.”

“So we need each other. It’s that simple, aye?” She looked at Y’shtola, her blank white eyes – how had she not realized for so long that the Lifestream had blinded her? She’d been with her for weeks after, and nothing had seemed off. “It ain’t like I’d do any different if I’d known how this would feel. Hells, what else can I do? Not the first time I’ve risked me life, and I ain’t dead yet.”

Y’shtola heaved an exasperated sigh, but she could hear the worry behind it. “I am well aware,” she said calmly. “But I am sure you cannot blame me for my concern, Quizzie. If you could see what I see now, I believe you would understand.”

“I do understand,” she said, turning serious. Her explanation had validated the strangeness that she’d felt, the stillness, the desire to stop fighting and let the Light remake her. It was quiet for the moment, but she had the feeling it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. “Still, that’s what I signed up fer when I threw in with you, ain’t it? An’ with all we’ve been through, well, I think I can trust ye all have m’ best interests in mind, even if it ain’t always perfect.”

“Of course we do,” Thancred said, and she saw Urianger nod as he looked back up at her.

Y’shtola smiled, but only for a moment. “And our would-be patron on his lofty perch,” she asked softly. “Do you trust him as well?”

“I trust th’ man’s actin’ in his own best interest, like everyone else does,” she said bluntly. That had been her first impression of the small man who’d come out to greet her – well, that and that he was a short, overbearing know-it-all who definitely wasn’t telling them everything. Finding out Urianger was keeping secrets for him hadn’t exactly been a surprise. “But... I saw th’ way he treated his people, too. I think ‘e wants what’s best for ‘em. Dunno if that’s exactly what’s best fer us, but at least he ain’t a heartless bastard who apparently ain’t worried ‘bout the body count. Unlike some people I won’t name,” she added, glancing up around them.

Nothing. She thought that would at least get a laugh out of the bastard.

Thancred was shaking his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t antagonize the Ascian. He might come out and start talking again.”

Y’shtola snorted with laughter, apparently despite herself, and Urianger smiled. That was something.

“All right,” Y’shtola said. “I still want to know what the Exarch’s hiding. If you’re willing to follow his plan for now, I’m with you. But if he causes you harm, I will not be pleased.”

“Oh, I think he knows it.” She chuckled darkly. “But seriously, thank you. This ain’t been easy on me. If I ‘ad to stand around an’ watch you fight much longer, I think I might’ve lost my damn mind!”

“If thy mind has not yet fled thee after all you have seen,” she heard Urianger say, a bit more strongly this time, “I cannot imagine thou wouldst lose thy grip upon it now.”

“Aye,” she said. She bloody well hoped he was right. “Come on, then. Runar’s going to be askin’ why we let th’ soup get cold -”

Quizzie’s request - along with her cheerful mood – was gone the moment she heard someone shout outside. Her eyes widened, and she looked back at the others with steely eyes, reaching for her spear to hold it ready. “Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

The Light twisted in her, not wanting her to struggle, but she ignored it as she made for the door. The trials of this place continued, she thought tiredly. But at least now she knew they all had each other’s backs again, and that was worth more than she could say.

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - #9: Lend an Ear

idiom

— to listen to someone with sympathy

“So there's a light sealed inside you, is there? You wouldn't know it from the outside. You look the same as you ever did to me.”

“‘I must stay the course. For the others.”

“True enough. Packing up and going home isn't really an option, is it. If you don't face the music here, it'll only come and find you there.”

Estrild closed her eyes, counted to five, and exhaled. The little situation she found herself in with the first Warrior of Darkness was one that had taken quite some time to become accustomed to, but despite her initial misgivings, Ardbert had proven himself nothing short of respectful of her privacy. If anything, she’d come to appreciate it. It was odd, having a confidant instead of being one, but in moments such as these, she was grateful for it.

More than once, she’d wondered what it was about him that made it so… easy for her to talk to him, to let him see her vulnerable, especially considering how, when they first met, he and his friends had been trying to kill her. Perhaps it was just that she could be certain that there was nothing he could do anything about her moments of weakness as, as far as she knew, he was the only person who could see and hear him.

Perhaps it was simply because she knew he understood having weight of the world upon one’s shoulders.

“Ardbert…”

“Hm?”

“Y’shtola told me my… aether appears tainted to her. No different from that of a sin eater. When I defeated that last Lightwarden, the light was did not vanish, but was absorbed into me. I still look the same now, but what if that changes? What if… it overwhelms me?” She sighed. “There are two Lightwardens left. ‘Tis not as though I can stop now.”

“Damned if I know.” A blunt admission, but true. “It's not as if I can lift a finger to help myself, much less you. Have faith in your friends. Look out for them, and hope that they look out for you. What more can you do?”

Friends looking out for each other… She had worked with many an adventurer throughout her career, but there were none she trusted more in the heat of battle than those of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. They were her friends, weren’t they? So why didn’t she think they would reciprocate. “Was that how it was with you and yours?”

Ardbert let out a laugh, a sound that conveyed equal parts joy and grief. “It certainly was. We all looked out for each other and took care of one another. Wouldn’t have made it without them. Any of them.” His voice then became somber as he asked, “It was different for you, wasn’t it?”

Estrild nodded. “Of those brought here to the First, I am the only one who bears the Echo.”

“That’s right. You fought those primals alone.” He snorted. “Thank the heavens you were on an entirely different world when my friends and I set out. We never would have made a name for ourselves if we had been in competition with you. Though I suppose if we never made a name for ourselves, we wouldn’t be in this mess now, would we?”

Ah… Estrild could still clearly remember the words that had won them her sympathy even when they had been fighting just moments before. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this!

Perhaps that was what she was afraid of as well.

Ardbert did not seem eager to linger on his past mistakes. “...Think he was telling the truth? Emet, I mean. All that rot about Hydaelyn being no different from any other primal... If so, what would that make Her ‘blessing’? Are we just slaves to Her will?”

Another matter swirling with her mind. She supposed this one only pertained to her as the other Scions did not bear Her blessing. “I remember my first encounter with a Primal,” she whispered. Burned into her memory forever. She would never forget the heat, the scent of ash in her lungs. The flames that demanded she kill a god or die. “When the Lord of the Inferno failed to Temper me, one of the Amalj’aa said my soul already belonged to another, but…” She remembered the members of the Immortal Flames that had been captured alongside her. How the sergeant, so ready to die an honorable death in defiance of the beastmen, had knelt in reverence to Ifrit once he had been bathed in those infernal flames had instead been put to the sword.

Estrild did not know if she could fairly judge herself or her actions on this matter, but… she could judge Ardbert’s. “You were turned against Her for a time and allied with Her enemies. Surely you would not have been able to had you been but slaves to Her will?”

“Hmm… That is a fair point…” He remained in thought for a while longer before he evidently decided to shrug it off. “Ahh─let's pay him no mind. Lies are the Ascians' stock-in-trade.”

He would know that, wouldn’t he? Estrild did not fault him for believing those lies once upon a time. When all hope seemed lost, did it not make sense for one to search for some glimmer no matter how untrustworthy the hand offering it seemed to be?

“It certainly would not be wise to take his word at face value,” she agreed for Ardbert himself had warned her to not repeat his mistakes. “I just wonder if there is some truth to it is all. It is always easy to point out hero and villain in our children’s tales, but ‘tis never that simple in reality, is it?”

“Villains, heroes─all a matter of perspective, they'd have you believe. One man's fond memory another's waking nightmare...” Ardbert’s gaze turned to her open window. “Me, I'm no saint or savior─just another sinner. And I know damn well I'm in no position to judge... When I saw the people of Slitherbough look up at the sky and celebrate the return of the dark...felt good. It was moments like that that I cherished─much more than the thrill of adventure. The quiet after the storm.” He turned back to her, smiling. “I always took comfort in that.”

She smiled back. “As do I.”

The storm will always return, eventually, but those quiet moments were why she will always brave it when it did.

And this was no different.

[tenuuchlegch]

Shadowbringers HC's part 2

-Cue dramatic drumroll- And now the moment you've all been waiting for... Shadowbringers Headcanon dump! Part 2!

Odtsetseg already had a low opinion of Vauthry, when they first encountered one another. However the attack on the Crystarium is when she truly saw him as someone who needed to be disposed of. No one that mad should have that amount of power, in his twisted hands. Additionally, the ruler's sway over the sin eaters and unusual appearance/behavior made her suspicious of his humanity, but she said nothing as she had little evidence to confirm anything, at the time. Luckily, the Exarch's observations were more than enough proof.

Odtsetseg did really have sympathy for Lyna's situation. As it reminded her of the first time she faced Ifrit. Sure many of those who were engulfed in the primal's flames were scumbags, but there was also innocent people in the mix too. The difference between both situations however was that au ra had no closeness like Lyna did with her soldiers.

By the time the attack came around, Luu the Rathalos was in his adolescent stage and actually helped Odtsetseg to take down a few sin eaters. Unfortunately one of his wings got injured in the battle, making him unable to fly for some time. He got better after Kholusia though.

When I tell you that Odtsetseg was uncomfortable/borderline seething at Emet Selch commentary, during the tower. The worst part about it though? Is that she knew he was right and au ra could not deny that Thancred was somewhat harsh with Ryne sometimes.

Speaking of the situation with Ryne, it was such a hard pill for Odtsetseg to swallow, the possibility of loosing her... in favor of Minfilia. While the au ra did not dislike the latter, the former was merely a child. One who was unfortunately born during an apocalyptic era.

Though not adamant with it Odtsetseg was lowkey on Thancred's behind, concerning his emotional constipation towards Ryne. While she understood that the guy had been through a lot, it was no reason to treat the girl so coldly even if she did have a connection with the one he lost. During their time outside of the mine, reminiscing about Minfilia auri actually talked about the death of her father with him and how it affected her life. It was the first time she ever opened up to him about... well, anything really. Her reasoning for bringing it up was this: Despite the sweetness to his parting words, she deeply wished he had the gull to say them sooner. This and other factors left such a bitterness inside xalea, that it was hard to shake off and she hoped Thancred would not hold his own feelings back to Ryne forever.

Urianger was right to step up, otherwise she would have kicked Thancred in herself.

She also would've thrown hands with Ran'jit too, but there really was not time to argue in that situation.

Being a shard of Azem, Odtsetseg felt Arbert's pain the most, in the vision of Minfilia's sacrifice. The agony of being a survivor, is a heavy burden indeed.

When both girls reunited with Minfilia Odtsetseg responded with "It's good to see you again," and she meant it. Even if it was for a fleeting time, they were like friends... once, so rather than burden her soul with regrets. She simply greeted her warmly, as if nothing changed.

She was so relieved that Ryne had chose her own path and was given the blessing. Much as she liked Minfilia, au ra would have felt wrong if otherwise. Additionally, she was happy that the girl finally got her own name as well. Through au ra's perspective "Ryne" suited her.

All this happiness was ruined by the startling realization that "oh no, she may not be able to contain the light" when absorbing Amh Araeng's lightwarden. While she did not doubt it would happen, actually going through it was painful, to say the least.

Despite this, she didn't want to worry anyone too much so she tried to put on a brave face. Y'shtola was right to send her to bed.

Because of the little incident she had in her quarters and Ardbert's interference, Odtsetseg begin to suspect that, should all other plans fail, she may need to rely on this ghost for a boon, when the time was right.

When having the Echo of the "Black Rose timeline", Odtsetseg was partially worried that it was showing her what was happening in HER world while she was away. Au ra was informed that time worked differently there after all, so who knows how long she had been gone. She even requested to Feo Ul to send Tataru a letter asking how everyone is. She would have gone back herself, but there was simply too much at stake to find out.

Emet's power point presentation, was regarded with fascination [though Odtsetseg will never admit it], it did explain much of their world and the others after all. Plus it added a bit more insight into the Ascians' motives. That being said, she was FURIOUS at Emet Selch's conclusion. However that was quickly replaced by with a shiver down her spine when the guy said he had the "highest expectations" for her. She honestly wanted to pull Y'shtola aside and ask if she had a void gate or something ready yet.

The moment the butt bread contents were revealed, it all clicked in Odtsetseg's head on what Vauthry TRULY was. She didn't even need Ryne to confirm, and was disgusted when he grew wings and fled.

She did want to chase after him, but luckily Alphinaud was there to remind her of the people in need and knowing his compassion, Odtsetseg accepted it without a complaint.

She felt proud of Alphinaud for his speech. He had come a long way, from the... entitled kid auri woman used to know.

It took her a while to count the planks at the dock. Odtsetseg is good at many things, but math is not one of them.

Now for the Emet conversation. Naturally, Odtsetseg was tense when he approached her. I believe her thought process was "of all the people, why me!?" Throughout all this journey, she really was uncomfortable with how... softly(?) he was regarding her. But with this interaction, the gears in au ra's head began to turn and dots were starting to get connected. It really made her pose the question... did he know a previous incarnation of hers? Not only that, but there was some... sympathy evoked. She knew what it was like to not only loose your friends and family, but also your entire culture. Your world, so to speak. Regrettably this was not enough to move auri to try and comfort him, though loss was abundant in her life she imagined it paled in comparison to an immortal. Additionally, she could not ignore what he was and his cruel goals. Even if they understood each other to some extent, she would not dare hope to see themselves as friends. Ardbert's words of advice served to encourage this mindset.

Even though au ra feared she might be seen as insane, Odtsetseg gestured for Ardbert to tag along anyway. Mainly because auri felt like she understood him better and wanted him to be included.

She thought the Chai couple's antics were adorable... if not back-breaking.

There was some concern at the Crystal Exarch's arrival, but it quickly dissipated during their dwarven adventures.

The conversation with the Exarch before the Talos was erected was... difficult, mainly because Odtsetseg was not certain she would make it. She did return his question and that was when the realization of who he was really sunk in. Truth be told, she scarcely remembered his name at first, but she did remember HIM. His confession also struck a chord with the auri, and she realized how sweet he truly was. Thus was she more determined than ever, to stop this madness.

She was practically awestruck by the Talos they made, and grateful for Feo Ul's help.

The moment Vauthry fell and said to Odtsetseg "I am your god!" Au ra coldly responded with, "Afraid your not. That would be the Dusk Mother and she has come to snuff you out."

She wasn't surprised that the Ascians had a hand in Vauthry's creation. The fact that Emet Selch was the one who orchestrated it didn't phase her at all.

It broke her heart, seeing G'raha after so long and about to sacrifice himself to boot. Luckily, she remembered his name at this point called out to him. She never forgets those who give their lives for her sake.

This was ruined when Emet shot him of course, and if she wasn't preoccupied with trying not to turn into a monster Odtsetseg would have tried to fight him right then and there.

His talking mostly remained unnoticed by Odtsetseg, as she was busy imputing all her focus into containing this light. The most terrifying thing with this situation was that if auri woman fell she would turn against her friends- her family and become some horrid monster that would threaten all life in the first. Emet's words expounded on those fears. I even hc that he tilted her chin, just to keep her focus on him as she refused to look into his eyes. What made her confused though was his invitation? Why should he care whether she turned to madness with dignity or not? She didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts though, as darkness overtook her,

At least three days had passed, before Odtsetseg woke up and the thought of somehow summoning a gate and throwing herself into the void was definitely on her mind. She had talked to Y'shtola about it at Rak'tika, but xaela understood the reluctance behind such an endeavor. Either way, it appeared that everyone was trying in vain to prevent that and auri just... did not wish to burden them anymore.

Her vision was constantly going in and out being normal vision to eater vision at this time and she could even feel a strange craving on occasion.

Feo Ul's and Ardbert's interference kept her thoughts from becoming muddled. Luu also did not leave her side, intent on being there for her. Additionally, finding out about the Exarch's past was a great thing to keep her occupied.

Seeing the conversation betwixt Urianger and G'raha, Odtsetseg was for the first time in a long time moved to tears. Because honestly despite all the work she did, au ra did not think her works or deeds would amount to much. So many people died for her and it is so frustrating that she has to be the survivor in all this sometimes. Whatever the case, it was clear that what plans everyone had to stop this weren't going to work. So with a fiery heart: Odtsetseg set her sights on one goal: Defeat Emet Selch in one final battle. If she was going down she was taking him with her.

She honestly planned to leave on Luu, as he was now big enough to ride at this point. Plus he would not leave her alone. Unfortunately the Scions caught up to her.

I've mentioned this before, but Odtsetseg really did not hold any grudge against Urianger at this point. He didn't need to ask for forgiveness as it was already given. Alisaie's words however were enough to make Odtsetseg realize how much she was cared for in this found family and how much it hurt them to see her like this.

She was surprised by the Bismark of the First, even more so with how they entered the tempest.

She really wasn't into abiding the locals at this time, but it was not like she had a choice. However, the architecture and discovery of those ancient buildings did get her attention.

What really got her focus on though, was Emet Selch's creation of Amaurot. Beholding it with her own eyes, there was this strange feeling... almost akin to a distant homesickness. Time was ticking for her though and she needed to move.

The conversation with shade Hythlodaeus practically confirmed her suspicions. Her past self was close to Emet Selch once, and now they were enemies. She wasn't even shocked that the remaining sundered would be sacrificed to revive the dead, as Ascians were always a shady bunch.

The confrontation with Emet Selch went as expected, with xaela making crude comments like "You can shove my chakrams up your-"

Now for a little tidbit on my Azem. Her true name is Ananke, who is the Greek goddess of fate, inevitability and compulsion. She apparently, was something that even Zeus feared in greek mythos. Thus, Emet had every right to be concerned.

Despite all the pain, all the generational trauma, all the hatred she had towards the man though, her nod was sincere in the Ascian's final moments. In spite of everything, Odtsetseg could not deny that he had a life full of sorrow. He had endured much, beyond her capacity to comprehend and in the very least, au ra figured she could at least assure that they will not be forgotten.

She was taken aback that combining with Ardbert and the fight managed to heal her soul. It even made her question if Emet had this planned from the start.

G'raha was greeted warmly, as she figured he could use some light-heartedness after everything.

Luu definitely helped Urianger get to the surface. Don't worry.

After returning to the Crystarium, Odtsetseg collapsed on the bed to get some well-deserved rest.

[tk-duveraun]

If you character were to be any boss in the game, whether it be a dungeon, trial, guildhest, etc., what would they look like? Can you give some ideas as to what their boss music would be like? Maybe mechanics? What might be the story as to why some adventurers would face them?

I have 2 boss encounters!

The first one is Prime Lightwarden | Forgiven Murder

Appearance: Lian's torso is attached to a dragon's body. The scales on her torso, arms and face have all spread until only small areas of skin remain. Her hands are full claws. She has four, curling, ram-like horns on her head. Her eyes are fully red.

Phase 1:

Fratricide: 6 items marked “Supplies” will spawn in a circle. Fratricide is cast 6 times, approx every 6% health. The cast duration is 4s. ONE person must pick up the supplies, enabling the “carrying” debuff per cast of Fraticide. They will die when the cast ends and be unable to be rezed. The recommended order is: Offtank, dps, dps, heal, dps, dps. If no one picked up Supplies, it’s a wipe.

Patricide: Reduces aggro target’s health to 1.

Matricide: Distributed damage. This does decreased damage as party members are lost to Fratricide.

You want to end the phase with a tank and healer, but dps and healer will do in a pinch. You must healer LB 3 in the phase transition to move on.

Phase 2:

Sickness: Purple fire on the ground that applies a small DoT when standing in it.

Exile: Knockback. If you fall off the arena, you cannot be rezed.

Robbery: Full party reduced to 1 health.

Tank Lian in the center. Don’t get thrown off, don’t stand in the fire.  Phase 2 ends when you drain her health bar.

Phase 3:

MASH MASH MASH (Active Maneuver)

Warrior of Light: Medium-sized circular AOE. Shadows warn for position before the circle appears.

Warrior of Darkness: Gaze -> confusion.

Savior of Ishgard: Large frostbite AOE

Hero of Ala Mhigo: After the cast bar, Lian will teleport around the arena, backstabbing three people at random before returning to the original position.

Champion of Eorzea: Unmarked, one of Raging Bull, Grace of the Elementals and Captain’s Orders. Raging Bull: Frontal cone Grace of the Elementals: Gaze, applies debuff preventing heals from skills Captain’s Orders: Second on the aggro table becomes first on the aggro table and is put to 1 health

For Champion and Hero, healers should make sure everyone is topped off.  It’s harder than it sounds like because Warrior of Light is more frequent than you think it will be. Make sure the DPS focus on not getting hit by Warrior of Light more than on DPSing.

Music: Oldest Daughter Syndrome (a fast-paced bop, with an eerie chorus doing call and response)

The arena is concentric circles with golden twin carp motif and is positioned outside of the false Amaurot!

I also have a Villain AU!

Lian is approached after her village is destroyed in the 7th Calamity. They ask if she would bring back her people at any cost, the answer is yes. She doesn't ask for details because she's so broken at that point.

Ascians collect the keystones that sustained the protective bubble over her underwater village. They then use the stored aether & dynamis to transform Lian into a primal a la Tsukiyomi. Lian is an Eastern dragon aspected to water, but still red and yellow highlights like her hair

Her monologues call the WoL/Scions an infection, accuses them of cultural Imperialism, calls the Eorzean gods blights upon the world and equates Hydaelyn to a ghost king, destroying the world in her own image. Early in the campaign against her, Lian can still maintain an "au'ra" form, though she has substantially more scales than the typical au'ra and her footsteps leave behind a trail of water wherever she goes. Her scales are also wine-red.

Attacks: Bloody Depths Boundless Sea Riptide Midnight Tsunami Whale Fall (enrage)

Her campaign comes between 4.1 and 4.2 and takes place Southeast of Kugane in the Glass Ocean

The song is demure, with trailing flutes and wails between stanzas. The arena is sectioned by a Dharmachakra pattern on the floor and ringed with falling water.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

the first introduction we have to primals, at the start of the game, tells us that they're:

gods

summoned by the beast tribes

using crystals aspected to the deity's element

and a specific summoning ritual

that are unilaterally aether-hungry and destructive

and then almost every primal after that spends its time going no, actually, that's a really narrow and kind of inaccurate definition. shiva and shinryu demonstrate that anyone can summon a primal, if they know how to and they have the ingredients. the game also implies, though doesn't really outright state, that primals aren't actually the gods they claim to be and don't even really have. a single coherent consciousness. they're more of an influx of aetheric energy defined by the circumstances of their summoning. as evidenced by the summoning of bismarck acting nothing like how bismarck would rightly act, and hraesvelgr flat-out telling ysayle that she's never actually communicated with the real shiva, she's just tricked herself into thinking she did, and then also the fact that when the kobold child gets in the way of titan's summoning it throws the entire consciousness out of whack.

the final summoning of garuda, and then shinryu and tsukuyomi show that you don't even need specific belief in the primal you're summoning for it to work. any kind of fervent faith will do, though it's arguably easier to use a deity as a focus because if you don't know in advance that it's possible, "i'm going to create a big monster with my mind" is sort of a difficult jump. you don't even need it to be the belief of people in your immediate vicinity, because yotsuyu uses the history of the mirror she's given to do it all by herself.

also, you can use yourself as a vessel for a summoning, and still retain your consciousness and survive the primal's dissolution, as shown by shiva, and both shinryu summonings, and tsukuyomi. and then there's susano: a kami who arguably effects his own summoning once you bring the three treasures together. and all of those circumstances, along with ramuh, show that primals, while needing a constant influx of aether to sustain themselves, are capable of retaining a consciousness beyond hunger.

so okay, to recap, our new list of primal understanding is:

they're beings formed of a massive concentration of aether

created by some intangible force of united belief

and a single focal point with a desire to create a primal

so to jump back to my original point, the climactic emet-selch fight. at the point right before the battle, the protag is like, beat. the entire party has been comprehensively stomped, and the WoD can't even muster the strength to take another step, consumed as they are by the light within that's finally winning against them. y'know, the massive amount of light aether that was enough to create five lightwardens and change the entire sky.

also, as the talos-building and then your departure from the crystarium showed, at that point, nearly every single person in norvrandt believes with their whole heart in the Warrior of Darkness. maybe not you, specifically, not everyone, but they believe in the nigh-mythic hero bringing back the night, and they believe in the person who's gone toe-to-toe with the lightwardens, beings who can't even die without perpetuating themselves and destroying their attacker, and everyone in novrandt wants you to win, motherfucker. they believe in you.

so we've got aether. and we've got faith. and we've got a single focal point to channel both those things. the final rub is element. the game isn't really... 100% clear whether the primals have to match the elemental energy you use to summon them, (or if it is they care little enough about it that i don't remember), but it definitely influences them, and if you want a specific thing to be created you're probably gonna want to go with the elements that match it. also, dumping a bunch of light into most things fucks it up, like, a lot, as the sin eaters/lightwardens and the whole of the empty demonstrate. the only exception to this that you're aware of at this point is the WoD, who was already primed and able to hold a whole bunch of light via hydaelyn's blessing. (true, you fell apart at the end there, but you were doing really good for three or four wardens, which is three or four more than anyone else can claim!) so even if you do have everything else you need for a summoning, you're gonna need a focus that can actually sustain it without turning into a mad monster.

and what do you have but ardbert, the spirit shade tied to your being, who's been following you around inarguably extant but unable to act without a body. a mother fucking Warrior of Light.

do you see what i'm saying!! you summon him!! you pour all that Light into his spirit, taking everyone's faith in you and turning it into a net for him, using your single fractured body and soul as a focus, passing the torch on to someone who can hold out against the light for a little bit longer. just long enough to see the job done. you bring the fallen hero of the first back for one last dance.

it's arguable that this is actually exactly what happens and it just would've been really fucking cumbersome to show in a cutscene but if shb ended with the WoD summoning ardbert like a primal it would have been a really epic and perfect climax of all the stuff they've been building up about primals throughout the rest of the game

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #20: The Precipice of Ruin

Prompt: anon || Master Post || On AO3

Bismarck dives, dives, dives, and Synnove sits in the shade of one of his trees, leaning heavily against Dancing Heron, her big sister’s arm cinched around her waist, with Tyr burrowed into her opposite hip. The rest of the Scions are arrayed around them, sitting quietly, watching through the protective bubble as they descend into the depths of the stagnant sea.

Whatever Ryne has done to contain the rampant Light within her seems to be working, though she can still feel it roiling through her veins, salt-stained and hungry. It’s only a matter of time before it breaks loose and finishes consuming her, twisting her into some eldritch monstrosity. At this point, she can only hope if-when-if the time comes, her form is abstract, like the Lightwarden in the depths of Malikah’s Well, rather than something with recognizable features.

It'll make it easier for her sisters to strike her down.

(She hasn’t shared that thought out loud. She isn’t going to. It’s the kind of thing that would drive Rere to tears, and if Rere is crying, then she’s broken the spirit of the whole damn party, guaranteed.)

Her only regret right now is that she hasn’t yet finished the equations that would give her carbuncles a full, self-sustaining aetheric power loop. It’s the one thing that has eluded her for years: making the summoning arrays so that it doesn’t need to draw on even a thread of her aether to power the spell. But the thread is still needed, as the only alternative that was viable was linking it to ambient aether, and that skirts far too close to how primals function for anyone’s comfort.

If Synnove has to struggle through this to some sort of victory, at this point, it is purely for the sake of her carbuncles, and if she thinks of everyone else left behind, here on the First and home on the Source, she will shatter into the glass that echoes in her mind unceasing now. Instead, she buries her hand in Tyr’s ruff, focusing on scritching rhythmically until he begins his deep, bone-rattling purr. It’s one of the few comforts she can still feel, this deeply saturated with Light.

Gods, at least it hasn’t spilled over into the carbuncles.

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and even that action seems to drain her, leaving her slumping into Heron’s side.

She is tired.

She is so fucking tired.

Bismarck dives, dives, dives, and one way or another, in whatever forsaken ruin it is that Emet-Selch lairs, this nightmare will be over soon enough.

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[sarenhale]

If it ain't a fuss to answer, how did you come up with the echo abilities for your WoL's? I've got 8 FFXIV characters and three are echo users, though only 2 are actually WoL, I'm trying to figure out what would be most useful for two of them. One being a traumatized healer with trust issues and the other being another traumatized man with big dad energy.

The one I did figure out, if you're interested, can tell where you've had a previous injury and can exploit it if it's still painful/will affect your performance in a fight.

First of all, I'm so sorry I'm so late to answer this, I'm getting to answer asks now!

As for the echo abilities, HMMM, I think I got inspired to create them when I started getting more into brainstorming my character's stories, families, and abilities.

Aydee's Emerald Eye ability is a rare type of Echo that has been passed down from Seers in her family for generations, especially prevalent in women keepers of the moon. I think I got inspired by the way keepers of the moon culture/society is organized, how much importance and emphasis is put on women, and I thought that it would be really cool if Aydee's great grandmother was a powerful seer that could see into the past, and being a guide to her Clan. The standard Echo ability you get in ffxiv, where you can see into people's pasts and see what happened to them, inspired me to do something similar but a little different and more coherent to Aydee's family traditions, where the difference is that they see actual ghosts and traces of the past in forms of aether shades. I really liked Aydee's Heterochromia, I thought it was a pretty unique aspect for her design, so I just suddenly thought 'what if this physical detail is actually connected to some kind of power she has?' And then, I thought about this emerald green eye being present in her family for generations, and actually symbolizing the presence of the Echo they only possess, like some kind of precious gem:

For Arihel's Blood of Azim, I was more inspired by Warrior's abilities of self-heal and regeneration. Since Arihel is a warrior, I thought that kind of very reckless type of combact would suit him and the way he approaches injuries/the possibility of getting hurt, where he doesn't worry about his well being that much, since he's able to regenerate super fast, close wounds, and also regrow limbs. His father cut off his arm during their fight post Stormblood, and Arihel was able to regrow it by using his Echo. It has its limits, of course, but the limit basically being cutting off his head. Everything aside from that is fair game, really. His father has the same Echo, and survived getting cannon blasted in the chest and having his whole chest and ribcage blasted open, he was able to regenerate it all. Doesn't mean it's not painful or traumatic- I can't even believe to imagine what that would do to your head and pain tolerance, honestly - but it works, and kept him alive a lot of time where he could've died, especially when Nergaal was infesting him as a voidsent corrupting his body from the inside. His regenerative Echo was able to keep him alive and stop his body from getting eaten from the inside.

I think generally speaking, I got inspired by both aesthetic and the different classes in FFXIV and the way some abilities work!

There's a lot of possibilities there to create your own Echo abilities or personalize some things you like in the game (like the standard Echo the WoL gets, but make some details your own to make it more unique and original to your character!). Maybe you could study how some classes work and their abilities, and create something based off that, or some funky stuff that happened during the story (god knows that, between aether/lightwarden corruption, ascian fuckery, primals, Hydaelyn and shit, our WoLs got subjected to A LOT of stuff) and create something inspired from that! I always found that going off from something that's already present in the story/game/worldbuilding, even something small like a physical detail or class ability, is way easier than creating something from nothing.

I hope this was useful some way! Have fun brainstorming !! :D

[raelly-writing]

Friendly Concern - Y’shtola&Thancred

Y’shtola having a chat with Thancred about his relationship with WoL while the Crystarium is celebrating the defeat of the Lightwardens.

I dunno, I love the Scions familial relationships. This have been sitting in my WIP folder for a while, but I needed a distraction from wallowing in the misery of a cold, so tried to finish it up.

---

“Behave, Thancred – I would be most cross with you were you to make her feel uncomfortable with any unwelcome advances.”

“Y’shtola! My dear, sweet Y’shtola; you wound me. As if I would do such a thing! Besides, were I to overstep, judging by that axe your new friend swings around, it would seem that she is quite capable of throwing me head first into the harbour with nary a trouble if she so felt like it.”

-----

“With the way you are looking at her, half the Crystarium will catch on to the two of you by night’s end.”

To his credit, Thancred did not startle when Y’shtola spoke up just before approaching the table he had taken to momentarily occupy.

Though some of the finer details of his form were lost to her aetheric vision, she saw him turn his head to give her an incredulous look at her as she gathered her skirts around her and settled down in the empty chair next to him. “I have not the slightest idea what you’re speaking of.”

“Feigned ignorance suits you ill,” she rebuked him.

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “I’m merely keeping an eye on Ryne and the twins.”

Y’shtola snorted. On her way over she had caught sight of the young Oracle’s bright form, flanked by the familiar shapes of the twins, in the opposite direction of where he had been looking. “Yet your gaze and steps trail after someone else, looking for all the world like a lost puppy.”

“Hey now, Shtola-”

“You’re even drinking water,” she observed, the lack of alcoholic scent directly from his vicinity a dead give-away.

Thancred shrugged. “Thought I’d change things up for once.”

“I’m certain Urianger’s needling has naught to do with your decision.”

There was a sour look on his face as he gave her a sidelong glance, then his eyes softened slightly and the corner of his lips curled with a teasing smile. “Won’t Runar miss you, master Matoya?”

Clicking her tongue, she tapped his arm. “That’s enough cheek from you, thank you.”

Snorting, he shook his head. “You’re the one who came over here and began interrogating me.”

“Not interrogating,” she replied as she crossed one leg over the other and rested her elbows on it while letting her eyes sweep over the throngs of people celebrating the night’s permanent return. The familiar bright blue hue of Viana’s aether, no longer obscured and overwhelmed by the searing Light, was easy enough to spot, shining brightly amidst all the other shapes - perhaps a bit brighter than what Y’shtola could remember from the Source. “Merely thought I’d take this opportunity to voice some friendly concerns in regards to our dear friend.”

She could all but sense Thancred grow tense and still next to her. His voice was even and neutral as he replied, “Here to voice your disapproval, are you?”

“Not unless you give me a reason to.” She glanced at him, but he kept his eyes trained ahead.  It wasn’t the same flighty young man she had known for most of her life that sat next to her, the one who had always had sweet words at the tip of his tongue, ready to woo whatever pretty person that caught his attention, be it for information or to seek a companion for the night. One who’d played games and hidden behind his extravagant cover persona. He had changed, the pain of losses and hardships stripping away some of the facades he had put up over the years.

Always pretending not to care, when he truly cared too much.

“Really now? Not going to lecture me about responsibilities? That there’s grander things to be concerned about? That it is not my place to be with her?”

A bitter note crept into his voice towards the end, a small but perceptible crack in his calm facade.

Y’shtola’s eyes followed the bright blue shape that was Viana as she moved amidst the people flocking to her. The celebrated hero, the mantle of an age old legend draped around her shoulders by those around her. If Y’shtola knew her, she was most likely yearning to slip away and catch a moment of peace, away from all those tugging at her for a brief moment of her attention.

How far away that day they had first met there in La Noscea felt, fending off a rampaging gobbue together. By the time she’d realized that this upstart adventurer she kept encountering possessed the Echo, it’d been simple pragmatism that’d prompted her to keep an eye on her - as per her mission as a Scion to find others possessing that gift. Far had it been from her mind then, that she’d found a dear and trusted friend that day. How small it’d all seemed then… just another adventurer, one with the combat skills to deal with the primals without fear of being tempered.

Yet Viana had never wavered from whatever tasks they set before her, even as they grew and grew in scope.

Always the figurehead, shouldering the hopes and burdens of those around her, barely willing to take a moment to rest.

Clearing her throat, Y’shtola glanced at Thancred.  “Knowing her, and you, I wager you have already had a discussion about your responsibilities as Scions.”

There was a brief pause before Thancred shifted in his seat, the belts and buckles hanging off his coat and waist clinking with the movement. “We have, yes.”

“Good. And I trust you’re both responsible adults who won’t let your work slip.”

“Seven Hells Shtola, we’re not some Studium students shirking our homework in favour of a dalliance in a dark corner of the library.”

The indignant tone of his voice made her laugh softly, her tail curling with amusement. “Well, I’d hate to give you both extra homework as punishment.”

Thancred huffed out a laugh of his own. “I dread to imagine what extra homework would constitute from you.”

“Mhm, master Matoya could get quite creative.”

When he did not respond, she looked back at him properly. He was staring straight ahead, not meeting her gaze and his expression carefully schooled into something neutral. When he finally spoke, his tone was even and measured, “You truly won’t object to this?”

Y’shtola rested her chin in her hand, regarding him for a moment. He didn’t move, just waited for her to speak, like a condemned man waiting for his final judgment. “Perhaps I once would have,” she responded quietly. Once, when duty was far more important, and her work came before any personal attachments. But what was life, if one did not cherish the people around you and the fleeting joys there were to be had?

“I just have one thing to say about it,” she continued, “and then I will gladly return to pretending to be oblivious to what’s going on between the two of you.”

“Well, let’s hear it then.”

Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a serious look. “Don’t hurt her.”

For all the years that she had known him, and knew how well he could conceal his expression when he wanted to, there was nothing in the serious look on his face that made her doubt his utter sincerity when he spoke, “I have no plans to. For however long she desires to have me at her side, I will be there.”

A small smile quirked the corner of Y’shtola’s mouth as her tail curled in a subtle display of satisfaction. It was not that she had doubted him - though they’d all been distressed and worried after the events atop mt. Gulg, there’d been something more intimate and personal to his restrained anger and concern that day - but she felt finally more at ease after hearing him declare his intentions out loud. “I will hold you to that.”

The grave look on his face softened into a self deprecating smile. “You, and many others, I wager.”

“And don’t forget it,” she snorted. A bright form in her peripheral caught her attention, and she looked up to see Viana approach them.

“This is looking rather tense,” she observed, the light-hearted tone of her voice marred by a hint of worry. “You two alright?”

“Yes,” Y’shtola replied. “We were merely having a bit of a heart to heart, and are all good now.”

“Aye, as Y’shtola says,” Thancred added with a small nod. “Managed to slip away from your admirers?”

Viana’s expression softened as she laughed. There was something unguarded in the way the two of them looked at each other while speaking, giving Y’shtola the distinct sense that there was a wordless conversation going on between them.

Well, she’d made her point. Saying farewell for now, she left them in peace, feeling more relaxed and at ease with the conversation behind her. She was happy for them. They both deserved someone they could lean on and confide in.

A sudden, fleeting thought that she should visit Y’mithra once she got back to the Source, crossed her mind.

Runar and the rest of the Night's Blessed eagerly called out for her to join them once more, drawing her back to them like a moth to a flame. Ah, the night was yet young.

[herssian]

i don’t usually post my writing on here but i was sent a few asks about my WoL and shadowbringers has officially ended and it kicked my ass, so i chose to inflict this upon you (～￣▽￣)～ set right before 5.0 ends

『♢』『♢』『♢』

It was Minfilia who had first called you the Warrior of Light.

Well, maybe. You’re not certain if that’s true if you’re at all honest with yourself. You think, if you stop and ponder hard enough, that some other soul named you before she even met you, someone in one of your myriad quests helping strangers across Eorzea. That was back then, when tomorrow meant little and the learned motions of every new day, repeated heroic acts of slaying primals, helping city-states, bringing a small modicum of order to faces you didn’t know and would never meet again, was all that mattered.

All that was, in all fairness.

You still help strangers now, that much hasn’t changed, but it’s different. You’re not fresh-faced, for one. Minfilia is gone, for another.

But it matters little because it was she who first uttered it like she believed it in her very soul and it was she who allowed you to finally feel at ease that maybe, just maybe, people weren’t wrong to call you that. That they didn’t see what they longed for in a feeble attempt to bring hope and order and a speckle of safety in their lives no matter the truth of your own limits. Maybe, you had started thinking after one of your first few meetings with the Archon, you were a Warrior of Light. She believed it so vehemently and, to your untold relief, left no room for doubt.

Looking at Norvrandt’s night sky speckled with stars more welcoming that you ever thought a sight to be, you think of her. You often think of Minfillia, the loss a low constant thrum always present in your body ever since that night in Ul’dah, after she urged you to leave, after she stayed and died, but you’ve been thinking of her more often lately, more actively ever since you arrived in the First.

Undoubtedly, Ryne’s presence has a lot to do with it. Even so before, when she was still called Minfilia and the anxiety was clear as day in her features, wanting something more but never daring to admit it to herself, both the Oracle and someone else, both to save and help, but to also simply… be. It’s the reason you took to her so easily, why you began keeping an eye on her during your adventures—sometimes even more so than Thancred, of all people, when he was lost in thought, too trapped in his own silent agony.

Ever since your friend’s final departure, ever since Ryne woke up with bright red hair and lighter shoulders, you stopped hurting as much. The dull ache dulled even more and even though you’d always miss her, always long for her guidance, at least you could sense her peace. Minfilia could rest now.

One day you might too.

“One can only hope, no?” you mutter to yourself with a mocking smile, eyes still upwards.

Your room in the Pendants, you decide, is too spacious. Too big for one person, even if they’re a hero, a savior, Hydaelyn’s beloved child and warrior. You do appreciate the view, however, so you spend many nights by the big window, staring up at a Lightless sky you gifted to all instead of resting as you should.

You don’t want to rest. You want to keep going, one foot in front of the other, until exhaustion overtakes you and forces you to stop. Doing so before that point would only bring you unneeded guilt; you’re alive and breathing so you should be fighting and helping and saving. You’re not good for anything else.

You don’t want to rest but nobody has to know that.

The Warrior of Light, then. The Warrior of Darkness too, now, and you’ve started getting used to that as well. You don’t feel that much like a warrior at all is what you should have told her back then, in the Waking Sands, when things where slightly less perilous, slightly less all-consuming and terrible and bad. It’s not you they should be placing their hopes on. You’ve made a mistake and it’s someone else who should be here. Someone else’s Echo burning bright with power and potential. Given time, you will let them down and it’ll be too late by then, the consequences too great to rein in.

It’s only because of Ardbert’s ghostly aether making its presence known some paces behind you that you make the effort to turn away from the starlit heavens. Even then, he too will join by your side to look at the First beginning to slowly heal, one Lightwarden at a time. One darker sky at a time.

He says something and you almost miss it amidst the cacophony of your thoughts but you manage to quiet it down before you begin one of your many night-long conversations.

[voidsentprinces]

Every bit of Shadowbringers is the Scions it corresponds with.

Amh Araeng Prt 1 is very Alisaie. Mirroring her decision in A Realm Reborn, Alisaie wanders off to the outskirts of civilization. Choosing to observe the powers of the world and figure out a way to stop coming tragedies. We’re introduced to the threat and aggressively fight against it but in mirror the loss of Ga Bu and Louisoix. Alisaie loses someone dear to her by Tempering. Louisoix became a Primal and Ga Bu was tempered by Titan. (Though honestly I wish Alisaie would stop losing people dear to her cause after Requiem for Heroes it feels like the story likes to kick her while she’s down at this point)

Kholusia Prt 1 is very Alphinaud. There is a semblance civilization, a rule of law in the area, there is even a function in which the society works. Mirroring Alphinaud remaining well within spitting distance and very much in the middle of the comings and goings. He uses his diplomatic maturity, which once was made for personal gain with clever wit and scheme. He has learned from the Crystal Brave betrayal, corruption of Ishgards, the result of those who choose might means right and what it results in from his time in Ala Mhigo, Hingashi, and Doma respectively. Applying himself to better comes to grips with the peoples plight. Upon seeing how Eulmore treats those chosen but then thrown away and then coming face to face with Vauthry. Rather than turning a blind eye and just being, “That’s just how it is.” as he was with the Monetarists and Refugees of Ul’dah. He pushes back against the system, damn the consequences, leaving an easily position to effect the politics of Eulmore and even gets a bullseye placed on the back of his head.

Lakeland is very much the Crystal Exarch’s Domain. It is the place of mystery, where life heavily clings on and every time we venture out to it. We come into conflict with either Eulmore or the Sineaters, Vauthry is controlling. It is in Lakeland, we fight through the Holminster Switch. Come face to face with our first Lightwarden and see where there was once furtile farm land, peace, and people. Now chaos reigns and an apocalyptic wave of disaster has struck. Mirror the world, G’raha had woken up to after the Eighth Umbral Calamity. This is where our foot hold is. Where we first bring night back to the First and his plan for saving the Source is put in motion. There is also a sense of myth about the place, Bismarck, a fae being in this shard slumbers in the Lake aptly named the Source. And it is only by bringing together to allies we made that we allowed to travel to the Tempest when he is spirited away. Just as G’raha gathered allies and people to himself to build the Crystarium.

Il Mheg is Urianger’s realm and reflects the game, he has agreed to play with the Warrior of Light at the behest of the Exarch. It is full of beings, who make deals out of innocent furvor at the determent of all who are around them. Pixies trick travels and fellow fae a like. The Nou Mou live to serve mortal kind just as Urianger serves the realm as a whole, no matter what light history might cast him in. And the Amaro dream of comrades lost, wishing to feel the comfort the adventurers and merchants they once wandered with. Grieving in their own way just as Urianger did after Moenbryda’s passing. Il Mheg is the land of faeries, it is steeped in myth and legend just as Urianger always had his nose in a book. Titania lays at the center of the realm. Once the pinnacle of the fae, forever corrupted by the Lightwarden’s energy. A horrific mirror of what should happen is G’raha’s plan should fail and the paragon of heroism, his friend: The Warrior of Light. Could also become a monster wearing the skin of a kingly figure should his mask slip. Yet when we enter his abode in the middle of Il Mheg, the Waking Sands/Rising Stones music plays. Reminding us of home and the Scions, he calls family and he welcomes us as he ever did, cryptically.

“Unto a hero weary of heroes, a heroes wends [their] way...”

Rak’tika is Y’shtola of course. She has turned away from her light magics of conjury to the dark magics of thaumaturge. The great boughs rise up and block out the sun light of the Great Wood. Reflecting the living style of her mentor: Master Matoya. A person who prefers their solitude, away from the dealings of the world, but with great knowledge to progress the plot forward. Thancred and Y’shtola get into an argument on how each other has changed. The two of them stood side by side after the Bloody Banquet and were both flung into Aetherstream by her Flow spell. While Y’shtola adapted to her blindness and halfened life force. Thancred had to push against the constrains of no longer having access to his aether and briefly losing sight in one eye. His last moments were the thought of protecting Minfilia. Only to wake up in Dravania and find out that Minfilia is no more. Y’shtola rejects Master Matoya and Thancred’s choice of solitude. Making friends with the Night’s Blessed. Even though, she knows she might have to leave them behind all too soon. She becomes a pinnacle of the Night’s Blessed community. While Thancred wanders hither and tither unfocused with Ryne at his side. Slipping easily into her role as a Scion, she researches the clues left behind by the Ronka Empire and makes allies with a civilization who has also closed themselves off from the world. Y’shtola is the first one to recognize the faults in G’raha’s plan and is immediately suspicious of the Exarch’s intentions. We see Y’shtola never truly changed however as when it comes time to get the item that will save the world and protect her friends. She readily uses Flow once more. Damn the consequences. Her sacrifice for the greater good is, as always, her charge which she never hesitates to grant. She even bonds with Runar seeing him as a little brother despite his obvious want for something more, just as she has a sister back in Gridania with whom she has a friendly relationship with. Just as Y’shtola’s connection to Matoya opened up the path to Azys Lla. Her run in with Emet-Selch opens up the path to learn of the Ancients and Amaurot and the true nature of Hydaelyn and Zodiark.

Amh Araeng Prt 2 is Thancred. Its tedious, its nearly empty, full of the smallest hopes. Each challenge is made to be tougher than it should be and despite us being able to compliment Thancred when finding a Voebrite coin. He shrugs it off as he is wont to do at this point. We get Ryne’s inner turmoil deepening. Thancred comes face to face with another individual wallowing in their own grief for those he loss and suddenly after coming face-to-face with Ran’jit again. Thancred throws away his misgivings and brings Ryne into the fold as shoe horned and bad written as possible. So lets just skip this area and never talk of it ever again okay? Cause the story never really does save for the Fatebreaker Eden section

Kholusia Prt 2 is Ardbert’s story or what it once was. We gather our group together and besiege Eulmore only for the villain to escape our grasps. But we triumph in liberating Eulmore from Vauthry’s tyranny for a moment. Alphinaud gets his heroic speech, Alisaie gets to combat the threats of the Lightwardens, Y’shtola and Urianger work together to make a massive Talos, Thancred and Ryne keeping tabs on Vauthry and Mt. Gulg. We meet face to face with G’raha. For all intents and purposes our Cylva. A person with a schism coming to a head. We come together as a team for the first time since coming to the First and each shows their worth in their connections to the realm. Mirroring Ardbert’s journey, we are faced with multiple seemingly insurmontible odds and come out on top. Vauthry’s Sineater Guard fall, he himself becomes the last one. The night returns to the First. And. We. Fail. We fail due to the machinations of Ascians just as Ardbert’s group did. The Warrior of Light is brought low by the combined aetheric energies of all Lightwardens. G’raha’s plan fails when Emet-Selch appears and leaves us for dead. Sure the enemy was vanquished, Vauthry and Ran’jit for us, Loghrif and Mitron for Ardbert’s group, but the First still falls to a Flood of Light as the eternal day returns and we are left on the cusp of despair. For all our triumphs. For all the schemes. For all the fighting. We fail. And just as Ardbert learns to protect his world with the aid of the Word of the Mother. The Warrior of Light only survives due to the aid of Ryne. An Oracle of Light who has come into her own and not died on the battlefield. We wander the Crystarium afterwards listening to the tales of the people and what they think of the Exarch. Then immediately find our courage to plunge into the depths. Ardbert giving us the strength to move forward, that he didn’t have when he met Elidibus. No more desperation. Just courage in the face of oblivion.

The Tempest is Emet-Selch. We are bridged there by the mythical Bismarck and find a dwindling but prospering Sahagin alternative. Living and getting by the ruins of those who stood before. The one part of the world far, far, far way from the light of the First. From the people and things, he used to care for. We find he made a city out of nostalgia and even the ghosts become almost too real. He is at the depths of his grief in a world, he cannot forget and will not forsake. It is here, the one clinging to the past the most falls to those who look to the future they yet have. He covets the Exarch’s use of rift travel because he knows if he can harness it, he has a chance to go back and save EVERYONE! But, he can’t and he won’t. He can no longer go home and knowing Elidibus’s memory and personality has been slipping since he left Zodiark’s breast. He asks us:

“Remember us...remember that we once lived.”

The Crystal Tower is Elidibus. It is the shining beacon of hope, he wished to become as Emissary. From the day, he chose to become the heart of Zodiark. To every motion to move for or against his breathren. The Allaghan Empire’s greatest achievement. But ruled by an Emperor whose death dropped him into Nihilism. Conquest was nothing but ashes in the mouth of Xande and he wish to consume the Source in Void. Elidibus wishes the return of Zodiark. For it is his duty, there is no solace in memories he can no longer recall. A being frozen in time just as Amon had the Crystal Tower’s previous inhabitence. Telling us repeatedly that no matter what our Echo shows us of his past. It will not avail us to his present. So he takes on the image of the Warrior of Light, playing pretend at the role of the hero having possessed Ardbert’s body before. He speeds up the Heroes Journey. Has us actively fight against our own memories and in the end, his own brother reappears amidst the clash to grant the last Unsundered Peace in his fall. G’raha sealing away his essence in the Crystal Tower to become part of the beacon of hope and light. Though perhaps in his final moments, his true duty was that he was waiting for someone to return to him. Someone he looked up to in his younger years. A shadow in his memories he has clung to and taken into being the example off in their absence.

“The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it.”

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt #28: Bow

((Note: A completely "what if" bonkers AU story based on the idea of, what if Il Mheg had gone very, terribly wrong?))

One always seemed to have an innate sense of their own doom -- it was a unique aspect to those who were mortal.  No matter how intact you seemed, how little pain you were in, or how much you were assured it would all be fine...sometimes, you just knew.

Sylnan knew.

He and Titania had dealt final, devastating blows to one another, and as the fae king had faded and the rush of Light filled him Sylnan felt as though he was...overfilled.  Splitting at the seams.  Dissolving and about to burst, like a shoddy dam.  And were he to burst, everyone here with him would be bathed in the deluge of released Light aether, and turned into sin eaters.

Urianger and Y'shtola, and Minfilia too -- they all knew immediately something was wrong beyond his visible wounds.  It wasn't often that Sylnan saw Y'shtola using the healing arts but she and Urianger rushed over to lend their strength to Alphinaud as the younger man desperately tried to close the deathly deep gash across his chest; Sylnan wasn't able to speak but even if he could he wasn't sure if he'd tried to soothe the boy (it wasn't his fault, after all) or begin screaming for them all to run, but then he wasn't certain if he'd be heard over Alphinaud's sobs and pleas, and cursing at the wound that just would not close and stay closed. ((Continued below cut))

A flutter of red in his peripheral and there was Feo Ul, alighting on his shoulder and placing a tiny hand against his brow.

"Oh, my poor sapling...my most darling, my little mortal..."

He tried to purse his lips, to gently shush them, but it seemed all he was capable of at the moment was just breathing (for however much longer he could manage that).

"There is a way..." Feo Ul whispered.  "You've defeated our king... The one who strikes the king down takes their place.  It could save you - that which isn't mortal can't die, after all."

If he fell here...not only would the Scions fall with him, and compound the problem of the First a hundredfold, but everyone Sylnan had ever known back home would fall as well; Urianger's horrific prophecy, that terrible vision of a world dead to Black Rose, would come to pass.  ...what was one mortal soul, weighed against the lives of hundreds of thousands?

He nodded to Feo Ul.

They disappeared from his line of sight and then came back with the crown in hand; the sudden eruption of argument from his friends was fading into so much background noise, and he wasn't certain whose hand it was that reached out to seize his wrist as he weakly tried to lift his hand to take the crown.  A different arm swatted at Feo Ul and drove them again from his sight but they were back just as quickly as they'd disappeared, and now their voice joined the jumbled argument taking place over Sylnan's head.

"Do it."

There - he'd managed speech.  Not the worst final words, but...enough.

He closed his eyes and waited, and felt the weight of something settle upon his brow.

At its touch he felt the sudden rush of power filling him, and in an instant he knew:

Something is wrong.

With the searing energy filling him and beginning to alter his body Sylnan surged up and shoved away those on either side - who had he shoved?  He couldn't tell - his vision was blinded by a blank white nothingness.  He was filled to the brim with conflicting powers that waged a war over who would claim what the elezen would become.

Again, Sylnan knew.  Deep in his soul, he knew.  And he was about to become more dangerous than ever.

Away.  I have to get away. Before I lose control.

He staggered to his feet and began to run blindly but only made it a handful of steps before he was seized from behind and halted.

"No - get away!  GET AWAY!"

GET AWAY-

"I would counsel you to listen."

He kicked out and connected with something, or someone, and then couldn't hold back the energies anymore; the nothingness of white gave way to a nothingness of black and moments before losing all senses Sylnan wondered why, of all people, it had to be Emet-Selch's voice he heard last.

----------------------------------------

"I'm FINE, Alisaie, but I really should return to-"

"NO!  Stop it! DON'T mention him, not again!"

"Stop it, BOTH of you!"

Y'shtola could only just tune out the twins and Thancred behind her; her attention was on the castle looming in the distance, and for once she was at a loss as to what to do.

Sylnan had leapt up as though the crown had burned him, and she'd been able to watch with growing horror as whatever power the crown possessed reacted with the Light aether he'd been carrying from the slain Lightwardens.  It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to say it had immediately been too much for the man to hold, and in his final moments he'd tried to run away -- to spare them.  A noble, and desperate, sacrifice...and for nothing.

While she couldn't say what had happened, exactly, to cause the magicks to react as they had, one thing was for certain:

Sylnan was now Titania...king, and primal, of the fae folk.

Frantic to escape Sylnan had kicked Alphinaud away and yet the boy had still ended up tempered -- he was still sound of mind, but all he wanted was to return to his king's side.

And Urianger...being as he'd been holding Sylnan at the time...

"Quite a fine mess... Not even I could have predicted that."

Y'shtola didn't turn but could sense Emet-Selch's sudden arrival before he ambled into her view.  "Does it not serve your purpose?" she hissed.

She could hear the smile in his tone.  "Is that any way to thank me-"

"-does it not serve your purpose?" she repeated, louder.  "Have you come to gloat?"

He shrugged.  "Gloat?  No...no, for this does NOT serve any purpose that I can immediately see.  This may in fact have dire consequences for our plans going forward...as I'm sure you're pleased to hear."

"How?"   Minfilia came to stand at Y'shtola's elbow, eying the ascian warily.  "Didn't...you want Sylnan dead?"

"Dead?  Yes.  But that?" Emet-Selch gestured at the castle, chuckling.  "That...is something truly remarkable."

"What happened?  Do you know...?"

"Dear girl," the ascian sighed.  "Do you not know how primals are made?"

"She may not but WE do," Thancred snapped.  He came to stand on Y'shtola's other side, staring the ascian down.  "That was unlike anything we've encountered before.  That should NOT have happened."

"No, it shouldn't have...were it not for the minor detail that as the crown touched your dear friend's brow, it alerted every fae within the First.  In one instant, they all knew their old king's suffering was at an end and a new one was ascending to the throne.  All their delight, their sorrow, their relief, their faith...  It all came rushing as one for your friend, and with all that excess aether he carries..."  

Emet-Selch trailed off with another shrug, and Y'shtola closed her eyes for a moment before glancing to her companions.

"...why did you save us?" Minfilia asked then.  She looked between Emet-Selch and the castle, and then glanced back to where Alisaie had a tight grip on Alphinaud's arm.  "Why didn't you let him temper us too?"

"And let you all share in the sudden power he holds?  I'd really rather not contend with that particular outcome...it shall be interesting enough to plan around THIS one," came the reply, along with a smile.  

Share in the...  Y'shtola felt her stomach twist; it was a known fact that heavily tempered individuals -- their forms began to change, to take on aspects of the primal that had enthralled them.  Urianger had been so close to Sylnan...

She turned to eye Alphinaud as Emet-Selch sauntered away; at the very least her eyes couldn't detect anything drastic, though she could see that now he too carried a Light tint to his soul's aether.

Alisaie turned to Y'shtola.  "What do we do now?"

------------------------------------------------

It had been nearly a month since...

It had been nearly a month.  They'd resorted to keeping Alphinaud locked in a room even though, lately, he'd been insisting that Sylnan wanted him to stay with the Scions; the boy had never sounded happy when he told them that, but so far he'd not tried to sneak away as he'd been doing in the earlier days.

The fae were willing to let them travel within Il Mheg but every time they'd tried to approach the castle they found themselves staring down a wall of stubborn pixies who refused to let them pass.

The King's orders, they'd insist. No mortal was welcome within the castle.

They weren't interested in telling them WHY they weren't welcome, only that they weren't.

Minfilia knew if Thancred caught her she'd be lectured and dragged away but...there didn't seem to be any other way of getting a straight answer to the pixies' behavior by asking THEM, so...

The lock on the door to Alphinaud's room was simple to pick so it'd be just as simple to secure again when she left; when she carefully cracked the door open with a small knock she found Alphinaud standing in the middle of the room staring at her, his hands clasped behind his back and an expectant smile on his face.

"I wondered how long before someone came to check on me again.  Am I allowed to leave this room yet?"

Minfilia shook her head and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it. "No...  I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course - ask me anything you care to."

"...the pixies won't allow us into the castle, and say the King has denied us entry.  Do you know why?"

Alphinaud nodded.  "He's afraid."

"...he?  The- Sylnan is...afraid?"

He nodded again.  "He's afraid he might temper someone else.  I can hear him, you know, here-" Alphinaud touched a finger to his temple.  "He didn't mean to do this...there was no safe answer that day.  Had he died there-"

"-we would have all...y-yes, I know," Minfilia interrupted with a shudder.  

"And yet, no one - not even Feo Ul - knew he'd become a primal either.  He just...didn't want his death to cause so many other deaths.  It's not a simple thing, to suddenly become a god...he's actually quite cross about it," he laughed.  "But!  Given time to learn and gain control over his newfound powers, he'll be back to saving the First in no time at all!"

"He still thinks he can help?"

Once more Alphinaud nodded.  "He does.  And I know he can -- with my king's help, we WILL save this world still.  You'll see."

His earnest tone unnerved her in a way she couldn't quite explain, and she quickly left the room and re-locked the door behind her.

It seemed, then, that there was still some part of Sylnan within...whatever he'd become, if his first cohesive thoughts had been to keep them away so he didn't accidentally temper them all.  She needed to tell the others -- she would have to tell them how she'd learned this which would mean enduring Thancred's silent disappointment but this was too important not to share.

---------------------------------------------------

The crown sat upon his head and in one hand he held Titania's staff; rather than a gown he wore a long tunic of gossamer white that hung open to show his chest and the matching pants he wore beneath it.  He had opted to remain barefoot; his hair was long and flowing (still white but more radiant), his wings a black and white ombre with stark black lines in the pattern of a butterfly's markings, and as he lounged on his throne with Urianger sitting at his feet it was easy to see how large his form had grown as well -- at least twice as large as he'd been as a mortal man.

Urianger too had been changed; when they'd first taken in his appearance they'd feared that he'd been changed into a sin eater as he now bore a pair of glittering gold wings and a deathly pale complexion.  But, Minfilia and Y'shtola were quick to notice that while his aether matched the same Light that Sylnan's did it wasn't the exact same that twisted a person into an eater.  It was a small comfort.

Another small comfort was, comparably?  Alphinaud's tempering hardly registered next to Urianger's.

"Ah, my friends..." was Sylnan's greeting. "I...I beg your forgiveness."

His voice rolled over them like a gentle breeze - Titania had also had an otherworldly voice but Sylnan's bore an extra weight to it that settled in one's chest; you could feel as well as hear the sorrow in it.

"...whether you earn it remains to be seen," Thancred spat into the silence.  "How do things stand, as they are?"

Sylnan unfolded himself from the throne and with the flickering of his wings echoing in the chamber, glided down to stand before them; Thancred's hand went to his gunblade but Sylnan made no other moves.

"I am...not myself.  Not anymore.  But I remember the man I was, and the promises I've made.  I will not shirk my duties."

"How can we possibly trust you?"

Sylnan smiled sadly.  "What choice have we?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Tataru knew she didn't need to whisper - the Scions weren't there to hear her - but it felt too unnatural to speak normally around people she perceived as sleeping.

"How are they?"

Krile looked as exhausted as ever and could barely muster a smile.  "...I believe I have them stabilized again, for now.  But...if they aren't returned soon..."

Tataru nodded, sighing and looking over the still forms of the Scions.  "We have to-"

Trust in them, was what she was about to say, when the door to the room was thrown open and a figure clothed in white was revealed.  

Whoever it was didn't walk, they glided, accompanied with a soft fluttering sound; once they were out of the doorway and no longer silhouetted Tataru gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

Sylnan.

What...?  How...?  

"Excuse me, dear Krile, darling Tataru," the elezen said - no...no, not an elezen.  No elezen was that radiant, no elezen had wings.  "I will not linger long."

"Who are you?" Krile asked, narrowing her eyes at him.  "You wear the face of a friend but you are NOT him."

Sylnan stopped at the foot of the bed that held Alisaie and removed something from within his tunic, leaning - he was so impossibly TALL - to place it near the woman's head.  "I come to restore our Scions, and to right a few wrongs while I am here."

Krile and Tataru moved together to huddle out of Sylnan's way as he moved to the next bed that bore Y'shtola; Tataru noticed a glint of white and red, and as his hand moved away she could spy a strange crystal resting on the pillow beside the miqo'te's head.  He placed one at Thancred's head and then lingered at the foot of Urianger's.

"What...are those?"

"The vessels with which I return our friends to their bodies...save for...well, them.  At least, for now,"  Sylnan sighed, gesturing first to Urianger and then to Alphinaud.  

"What?  Why?"

Sylnan bent, nearly standing on his head, to place himself at the same level as the two women.  "The others can explain far better than I can...  Now!"  With that he straightened, his head scraping against the ceiling.  "Tell me...has there been any movement around the Crystal Tower?"

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While he hadn't been expecting a hero's welcome it still stung to have every hand extended to him be holding a weapon.

Sylnan had become exactly what he'd struck down before without a second thought, and Eorzea had no kindness to offer for that sort of enemy.  No one cared that he had saved two worlds with his sacrifice, and no one cared that he'd brought a host of fae with him to the Source to assist the Grand Alliance in driving out the remaining pockets of imperial resistance.  No one cared that he still felt he was who he said he was.

Sylnan was a primal, therefore he was an enemy.  There was no nuance or understanding or forgiveness.

While his little fae army wrecked havoc with the imperials he had awakened the Scions, and G'raha Tia -- everyone save for Alphinaud and Urianger; Alisaie was needed to attempt the tempering cure so he had to wait until she was awake and recovered before he restored her brother's soul - Beq Lugg had tried explaining something about a possible disconnect or issue between body and soul since Alphinaud hadn't been tempered when he'd been called away but for the life of him Sylan couldn't recall the reasonings...all he knew is, the less time Alphinaud was within his body, tempered, the better it would be.  Thankfully, with Sylnan's assistance, Alphinaud was freed quickly and while he wasn't immediately hostile toward the fae king it was clear he was traumatized by his presence so Sylnan continued to withdraw to solitude as often as possible.

Urianger was... Too far gone.  Upon returning his soul to his body his form had instantly reverted to the white-skinned, golden winged figure he'd transformed into on the First, and no outpouring of aether even from Sylnan could make enough of a difference to cure his tempering.  Sylnan had been forced to whisk the man away before Thancred convinced the others to put him down, and was careful to keep him always within arm's reach -- his presence brought more scorn, fear, and calls for violence, and Sylnan knew his time on the Source was reaching its end and thankfully of those things Sylnan had hoped to accomplish while he was here there was just one thing left.

Zenos had once asked Sylnan to accept him; now it was Sylnan who offered the question to Zenos, and lured in with a promise of an eternal hunting ground the man had accepted.  Beq Lugg had assisted in repurposing a soul vessel so Sylnan could carry the madman back to the First with him.

He had absolutely no intention of ever setting Zenos free but a willing victim was easier to manage.

And now...all he'd intended to do, was done.

There were no goodbyes to make, because there were no more friends here.

There was nothing to collect, nothing to enjoy one last thing of - even if there were it wasn't likely he'd have been allowed to.

There was just...this.  A sunset, the rays reflecting off the Crystal Tower, the gentle glow of the portal that stood open but would soon close forever behind him.  His people gathered 'round him, loud and rowdy and feisty with the excitement of having been set loose, fully and ferociously, on new "playmates" and he had Urianger's hand clasped tightly within his own.

This was it.

Sylnan looked around one more time, and then deeply bowed toward the setting sun.

"Farewell, Eorzea... My final song has been sung, even if the audience found it a sour one."

Immediately there was a rise in the chatter of the fae - what song did he mean?  How could anyone not like HIS songs?  HE was the King!  He'd know the BEST songs!

Sylnan smiled into the sunset and flew through the portal.