#wol writes

[improvised-finish]

Is your character particularly philosophical? Have they ever pondered the way of the world and their place in it, for better or worse? Are they happy with where they're at or do they aspire to change things? What thoughts keep them awake at night when they're trying to sleep?

"Philosophical? Don't know if I'd go that far, but sure, I've thought about the way things are in general and the way my life has gone. When your partners are both esteemed scholars it's kinda hard not to get around to talking about that kind of stuff eventually." She laughs, her pride in her partners showing through.

"Even before I was in a relationship, though, I'd spent time thinking about how I should use the overwhelmingly large amount of power that had been placed on my shoulders. I think I was such an ardent pacifist early in my journey almost as a reaction to it. It was a small way to resist that fate, I guess. A way to say that even if I was forced to become a weapon, I would not take lives indiscriminately." She looks down and to the side, trying to figure out how exactly to continue. "Unfortunately, I pretty quickly had to learn that pacifism can only go so far. I still believe in it, in the broad strokes. I aim to incapacitate if it can be helped, but being on the front lines against a foe who will not hesitate to take your life in the blink of an eye... hardens you, if that makes sense."

"But back to the question: my place in the world. It's never really the same for too long, I've found. I've been a weapon to be wielded, then a symbol for liberation, then a beacon of salvation, and now just a citizen of Eorzea. I think I'm happy with where I am now, but there were many points along the way where I had to figure out how to change, how to become myself. Fortunately I'm surrounded by partners and friends who've been there to help and support me as I do, and now I think I've found a 'me' that's comfortable, so to speak. Beyond the titles and all that, I just want to be known as someone who wants to help, and I think I've managed that."

"As for what keeps me up at night... Mostly irrational fears. Losing the people who mean so much to me. Not being able to be there to help when it's needed. Being too late to save anyone. Some of these were things that we confronted when we battled against Meteion's song of oblivion, but... I think there's still some small shred of worry inside me somewhere, even though we overcame it in the end. I don't know. I guess I fear being alone most of all. That isolation kept me from becoming who I truly wanted to be for so long, even though it was somewhat self-imposed, and now that the day has been won and we can simply enjoy each other's company, it hurts to know that someday will be the very last day I'll spend with my partners, with my mother, with Beau and the rest of the Scions." She pauses, tearing up a bit at the memories of those she was unable to save. "I'm sorry, I just... Loss has never been a stranger in my life for too long, and I... well I wonder what it would be like if those people had survived. If Ysayle and Haurchefant had lived to see what became of Ishgard, to see humans and dragons joined to save the star. If Moenbryda and Papalymo had lived to learn all of Etheirys' many secrets. If Conrad had lived to breathe the air of a free Ala Mhigo. If Tesleen had lived to gaze upon on the beauty of the night sky, stars twinkling overhead. I try to carry their memories with me as I travel, to give them bits of the world they might've liked to see themselves, but it does get to me sometimes. That the good fortune to survive through all hardship can be a sword that cuts both ways."

"That reminds me of a moment that I'm not exactly proud of, but... it's better if I talk about it, I think. As kind of an example. When I'd first gone to Garlemald proper with the relief effort, we'd gone to offer aid to the survivors in one of the train stations, and been taken hostage for our troubles. Jullus, the young man who'd been given the responsibility of making us useful, eventually opened up to me about how he'd come home from his military duties to find his entire family tempered, and how he'd been forced to take their lives to ensure his own survival. It was a chilling story, and the prospect of something like that happening while I was gone haunted me. The first moment after we were no longer held captive, I fled. I couldn't handle the idea of coming home to my mother and finding her under the thrall of the towers. I ran back to camp, grabbed as many warding scales as I could carry, and teleported all the way to Gridania. I didn't stop running until I was on my mother's doorstep. I was a proper mess; to say my emotions got the better of me was an understatement. After she'd managed to get me to let go of her and take some deep breaths, I implored her to take the scales and give them to everyone she knew. To always carry them. She agreed to do it, thank the Twelve, and explaining what had happened when I got back to Camp Broken Glass was... uncomfortable, to say the least, but I just... couldn't let it happen to her too. Maybe that's selfish, that I stole some away for my own ends, but I couldn't bear the thought of having to turn on my own kin like that. I'd endure a thousand more awkward lectures from Lucia if it meant I never had to worry again." She takes a heavy breath, as if she had just run a malm. "It's why I try not to stray too far from those I care about, if I can help it. Leaving home has always felt difficult, and I imagine that fear is probably part of why. And that's also probably why getting to return home to share gifts and stories is my favorite part of my travels. It feels like closing the circle, completing the loop. It feels like a chord finally resolving in a piece of music. It feels like... well, home."

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Been playing FFXIV recently desperately searching for my cunty lil man :)

I love my tiny little friend who insists I come with him for all of his political negotiations where I just sit and nod and occasionally smack a dude senseless

[improvised-finish]

“I was so struck with emotion when I was finally staring my new feathered travel companion in the face (and after no end of chores) that I could hardly think of a name that felt worthy of belonging to such a lovely creature. In my haste to think of something, anything to put down on that blasted piece of paper they make you sign, I thought back to something I’d heard in the Shaded Bower one day as a youth. I remembered a traveler from a far-off land, one which I’d never heard of, was visiting the markets in search of something particular. They seemed a bit lost, so I did my best to point them in the direction of their quarry and went about my day. Not a quarter of a bell goes by when the same stranger tracked me down elsewhere in the market, giddy with excitement that they’d found what they’d been looking for. They grabbed me by the shoulder and exclaimed, ‘Oh, thank you so much, my friend! Truly Felicitas smiles on us both!’

I distinctly remember feeling confused, as I was pretty sure that wasn’t one of the Twelve, though they were so enthusiastic even I was second-guessing myself. Once the traveler released me from a large hug, I asked them who or what this ‘Felicitas’ was. They did their best to explain to me that it wasn’t exactly a god as we imagine the Twelve, more like the personification of good luck and happiness and forward progress all rolled into one. I never quite got the rest of the story or learned anything more from that stranger before they ran back to catch their airship, but the idea of this ‘Felicitas’ stuck with me. I wouldn’t say I worshiped them the way we do the Twelve, but I’d give my thanks whenever things seemed to be going my way.

And with my new partner before me, all I could think was that this was ‘Felicitas’ smiling down on me again. I silently thanked them for my incalculably good fortune on this day, and in their honor, I gave my chocobo companion their name, that their good fortune and happiness might always be with me.”

I've seen a couple of people share their WoL's chocobo's names so far, and they're all ready cute, so I'm gonna take advantage of my platform to ask:

What's your WoL's chocobo's name?

I'll start: mine is Edwin! Because he kinda looks like an Edwin.

[fatedroses]

More than just the Demon.

[asleepinawell]

every time i go through the end of ew and see the cs with zenos in sharlayan i have to stop and imagine his conversation with that customs lady at the docks when she asked what his job was and he would have gone off on one of his typical monologues about living for 'the hunt, the THRIIIIIIIIILL of bahttle the raw pulsing ecstacy of being locked together in combat, teeth at each other's throats, giving in to the huungaahh that can never be sated' etc etc and she would have been like uh huh so you're unemployed hmmm i see

[stars-and-clouds]

You know what makes Aymeric and Haurchefant special?

Despite having every reason to be cold, vengeful, mean and selfish people-being bastards, living in a house they weren't born to, growing up in an environment as hostile as Ishgard, having inherent beliefs different to everyone around them- they still chose to be kind.

I think it takes something away from them if we assume they were simply born with a kinder deposition.

Haurchefant was bullied by all of Ishgard, including his step mother, for being a Greystone. Aymeric was adopted and has really low self esteem because he probably grew up hearing how ill deserving he is of everything he got by being adopted into house Borel. Yet they both made a conscious choice to be better. They wanted to treat others the way they wanted to be treated themselves. They wanted to love and invite change when Ishgard taught hate and stagnation.

This is why the warrior of light would've failed in doing everything they did if it wasn't for Haurchefant and Aymeric. How many warriors of light have tried helping Ishgard before us? Over hundreds of years of war, this revolution can't have been the only one. Yet it was during our lifetime that the stars aligned perfectly to have Haurchefant aid us and Aymeric lead us into changing Ishgard for the better and bring about peace.

Without Haurchefant, we'd have ended up in prison and possibly executed (he saves us again by taking a blow meant for us) and we wouldn't have been let into Ishgard. And without Aymeric's trust over his best friend he wouldn't have let us go to Dravania and afterwards, invite the reality shattering truth about his ancestors' actions and usher Ishgard to peace and unity.

Everyone hails the Warrior of Light as the antithesis to bad with absolute power. That, if they're there, everything is solved. But without Haurchefants and Aymerics, the Warrior of Light would be nothing and would not be able to solve half the problems they have solved.

[lavampira]

golden hour

[viiioca]

[ roevember day 1 - name ]

From the journal of Estelle de Laussienne, 12th of the 5th Astral Moon, 6 7A.E.

Of late, I have been thinking of names.

I am lucky to be one of the few with direct knowledge of a past life. Astarte, they said, was named for the brightest star in the sky, and by all accounts, she embodied this name with precision. ("Demanding" and "vain" were the descriptors Emet-Selch preferred, predictably, though Hythlodaeus had far kinder words.) When she took the seat of Azem, it is no great leap of imagination that she would have brought this certain intensity and clarity of self with her in her wanderings. She -- and those who came before her -- can be tracked as if by game trail, wending the length of the world. Azem, Azeyma, Azim. A sun-stamped coin; a painting on a cave wall; a fixture in the night sky.

I, too, am named after the stars. My parents did not have any ambition of doing so directly, of course; Ishgard has always found it most fashionable to name its children after saints and martyrs, and any meaning beyond that is incidental. Saint Estelle was a woman of high birth who ran afoul of her heretical family, and her devotion to Halone was such that they rushed to condemn her before she could do the same to them. She invoked her right to trial by combat rather than the simple exoneration of the Witchdrop and -- by witness accounts -- channeled the miraculous strength of the Fury Herself, laying a full outfit of Inquisitors low before succumbing to her wounds. That this is considered something auspicious to name a child is a particular quirk of our culture; more interesting to me is how it seems to have come to us from Duskwights fleeing persecution in the Shroud, its relation to Ishgardian's own word for star revealed by squinting. Étoile, estela, Estelle.

One must wonder if a name does not have its own tendency for wandering; if a name, separated from its soul, filters through new lands and peoples, and when it is ready to return to its owner, it is scrubbed of its old shape as neatly as if the Aetherial Sea itself has done it. Azem, Azeyma, Azim. Astarte to Estelle. Is it not appealing?

(G'raha has theorized instead that it's a corruption of a -- of course -- Late Allagan name that means "well-groomed," absorbed into a branch of the Elezen language at some point before the Hyuran exodus following the Fourth Umbral Calamity. It's good to know even his romanticism has its limits when matters of academic correctness are at hand. Could he not simply let me have this one?)

[starrysnowdrop]

“I got 99 problems but I’m going to sleep and ignore them all.” ~ Hali, probably 💤

[zylphiacrowley]

(Making It Official)

<previous - next>

[improvised-finish]

Why did they want to explore Xak Tural? Were they happy to have Erenville along as a guide or would they have preferred to explore on their own?

(sorry this is a million years late, I just got finished with a huge move out of the country!)

“It’s the same reason I go any new place: I want to hear new stories, try new foods, and make new memories. I felt like I'd hardly be giving the region a fair chance if I just didn't visit an entire half of it!”

“And to be honest, I think the other tiny part of my reasoning was because Erenville had offered to be a guide of sorts. I do enjoy wandering by myself, and I certainly have the physical ability to protect myself from beasts or unsavory folks, but it is nice to see a place through the eyes of someone who lived there. As an example, I don't know if I would've insisted on riding the Rroneek if Erenville hadn't been around. I probably would've just ended up walking to town and would've missed that whole experience!”

Her expression fell a bit, remembering how the remainder of their visit had gone. “Obviously, the rest of the tour didn't exactly… go as planned, but I'm glad I was able to accompany him regardless. Twelve know he's supported us through thick and thin, and it's only fair to repay the favor.”

Thank you for the ask, questions are from here!

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  1. 'the first.'

They all knew it was coming. Either their brightest star would claim the last of the Light, or the Light would claim her.

What were they to do but careen to their inevitable deaths? He had sacrificed one lamb for another, and now a third was to be laid upon the butcher's block. How many must die so that another might live?

He would not forget the sight of the woman before him, holding her outstretched hands aloft as the curtain of Light parted one last time to reveal the night sky in all her glory. Menphina smiled down in a smirk of a crescent for their efforts, and just as she had appeared, was the curtain drawn once again.

He didn’t need an aetherometer to see that Tsuna was suffused– the aether was thick, cloying enough to be seen. The ewer of her body failed to contain it, finally splitting at the seams for a means of escape.

Their ascian friend dealt the final blow. The Exarch, in his well-meaning duplicity, left for dead. And then Tsuna slumped to the ground, just as lifeless.

He ought to be angry– furious– for Urianger’s joint deception, for his own empty hands, or for the cards Sister Fate had dealt them time and time again, but the queer feeling roiling within him was not one of anger, but of fear. He stood there, powerless, shaking to his core whilst the twins rushed to Tsuna’s aid alongside Ryne.

Even Minfilia could not wholly extinguish the Light– she could only freeze it in time– and as Ryne sank to her knees beside the supine woman in hopes of doing the same, he could only watch in abject horror.

“Give her room,” he barked, though the twins were undeserving of his ire as he approached. They still took a collective step back.

Brilliant white blood readily trickled from Tsuna’s nose, and by way of her laboured breathing it was evident that she was being torn apart by a force of which a layman could not hope to see. Something within Tsuna was stirring, whether it was brought about by her own will, or by Ryne’s suppression, he couldn’t know.

It began first in her hands as they twitched and grasped for purchase, then her spine as it coiled. Her eyes snapped open, hungry and searching, as she lunged for the Oracle’s throat in hopes of supping upon the wellspring.

Thancred fell to his knees, wrestling the woman onto her back as an inhuman screech tore from her throat. “Don't stop!”  he cried out, harsh with concerted effort. There was an unnatural strength burgeoning within her tiny frame that even as a man grown he struggled to contend with, and if Ryne did not finish the ritual, it would swallow them whole.

Ryne was shaken, but nothing if not determined. The power flowed through her once more, and Tsuna’s struggles came to a head. She thrashed upon the ground against his weight, spitting blood, and gnashing teeth. She would bite her tongue if it kept up-- he could barely hold her steady long enough for Ryne to work in her magicks. 

“In our lifetime, please!”��

"I'm trying!" "Ryne made a frustrated growl of effort as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. The very aether about them seemed to compress, tangible enough that even he could feel it become leaden as it coalesced.

Tsuna cried out one last time, waning to a whine as she pushed wildly against his arms, seizing. Her legs writhed as if a sudden, great pain knifed through her. And then all was silent. 

Ryne immediately flagged, catching herself on the marble. Her power had all but been exhausted whilst he held the aftermath limp in his arms. Y’shtola and Urianger had begun to crowd about, to inquire, to plan, to move, but all he could do was hold the small woman in his arms, and pray to the Twelve, unseen, that the Light did not break through once again whilst their last bastion was too weak to hold.

“Ryne,” he called, softly, intently. Apology was writ together in his tone. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, though he knew she waned, looking close to tears from it all.

He swallowed thickly, realising he shared in the sentiment. 

Adjusting Tsuna’s body in his arms, he felt just how cold she had grown. They needed a chirurgeon's assistance, and to get off this Godsforsaken rock, but more than that they needed a miracle. His hands would not stop trembling.

“Ryne, you know that I would not deign to ask a favour of you.” He breathed for a long moment, hanging his head low in penance. “Gods–” He swore. “You have to help her. I– We can’t lose her to this.”

Ryne stared back at him, having caught her breath, eyes wide, and glassy. She was searching him for something he couldn't know.

She opened her mouth, before aborting the question. Finally, she pursed her lips, looking uneasy in a way that only managed to make him feel worse. 

“I’ll do what I can,” she whispered, and he had no choice but to believe.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

The Etheirycrumb OCs Revisited.

A is for Amon, with charisma in spades, B is for Banri, and his collection of blades, C is for Clara, who’s often confused, D is for Damien, with shadow infused, E is for Estelle, who’s hard to outplay, F is for Feldspar, with his legs on display, G is for Gigi, the safety inspector, H is for Hwyl, the glamour collector, I is for Iris, genteel and refined, J is for Jess, who knows her own mind, K is for Kai, in a tender romance, L is for Lejo, who really can dance, M is for Mizuki, with her tricky upbringing, N is for Nate, and his magical singing, O is for Osric, both wolfish and brooding, P is for Podolly, and the warmth she’s exuding, Q is for Q'ruhka, setting sail through the sky, R is for Rowan, who at first seems quite shy, S is for Saeed, who vowed to resist, T is for Tsukia, a brave altruist, U is for U’lohi, the spreader of joy, V is for Valentin, that flirtatious boy, W is for Wolfram, and his undisclosed bond, X is for Xynal, drawing power from beyond, Y is for Yume, with an un-charming prince, Z is for Zuzunzo, and the skill he'll evince.

By Blake Primping-Muddles.

(With further apologies to Edward Gorey)

A couple of years ago I wrote a very silly poem, in the style of Edward Gorey's The Gashlycrumb Tinies, in order to celebrate some of the wonderful FFXIV blogs and OCs on Tumblr. You can find the original here. Recently I thought it might be fun to revisit the idea and celebrate some more of my favourite OCs...

Hopefully nobody minds me borrowing their characters for further silly purposes! And apologies to the many wonderful OCs I had to leave out - there are an awful lot of characters starting with M and S etc.

How many characters did you recognise? Why not follow their respective blogs and find out more about their stories!

Amon @spotofmummery

Banri @aoife-asturmaux

Clara @confusedau-ra

Damien @damienward-ffxiv

Estelle @viiioca

Feldspar @loldragoon-ffxiv

Gigi @gigifujijifu

Hywl @hywl

Iris @irisopranta

Jess @sasslett

Kai @kaitontenchu

Lejo @naejlas-axe

Mizuki @pumpkinmagekupo

Nate @calico-heart

Osric @osric-giroux-ffxiv

Podolly @roxinova

Q'ruhka @placesyoucallhome

Rowan @tallbluelady

Saeed @stalwart-spirit

Tsukia @tsukiakurotori

U’lohi @humblemooncat

Valentin @cadrenebula

Wolfram @xiv-wolfram

Xynal @qxynalvaleroyantb

Yume @firelightmuse

Zuzunzo @zuzunzo

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[nuclearanomaly]

Hashtag Nailed It

[iron-sparrow]

death is not the end

When storm clouds gather around and heavy rains descend Just remember that death is not the end ⸺ ♫

As Gulool Ja Ja lay dying, his flesh withering, his milky eyes shift their focus to find the champion ⸺ his champion, his Yein of Iron ⸺ knelt in the corner of his vision.

"I see... a sparrow," he rumbles weakly, the corners of his mouth raising half an ilm in a valiant effort to smile. He can hear his children's weeping still, despite his efforts to assuage their sorrow.

Yein returns his smile, as he knew they would. Bare palms normally protected by leather and metal touch his lips, brushing over skin and teeth. It touches him in a way he had come to love.

"We might be too large in size," he muses, "to become one of your little birds..."

A wet sound leaves Yein's scarred lips, letting the dying sovereign glimpse their pointed teeth.

"Maybe you will return as a very large bird," they offer, "with two heads." Despite their forced mirth, their fingers are trembling as they caress him.

"Perhaps," Gulool Ja Ja heaves in agreement. He attempts to see them more clearly, hoping to commit their shape to his final memory. A quivering smile shifts his wrinkled lips against their touch.

"I cannot wait... to introduce you to him. My brother..."

"Me too, dawnlight," the elezen says. As Gulool Ja Ja's eyes drift shut, they mirror his expression and curl forward to press their scarred cheek against the skin between his eyes.

Nearby, Wuk Lamat is screaming one last time for her papa.

For the tree of life is growing where the spirit never dies ⸺ ♫