#yotsuyu is so hard for her

[thevikingwoman]

Mery's thoughts on... *drumroll* Magnai and Yotsuyu? 👀

Thank you, friend! Magnai

Alright, I have bunch of vague head canons around Magnai and Meryta. She didn’t exactly know him growing up, but she knew of him and the Oronir. He’s some years (5-10?) older than her, and as she left the Steppe so young, she didn’t really run in the same circles as him. She did know he boasted he’d be Khagan if the whole steppe one day, and I think he might have tried (badly) to hit on her oldest sister - just like he did so many.

So - it’s really annoying to show up and have to tasks for him. She’s so annoyed. He finds him just as insufferable in person as he is in second hand info.

She’s glad to beat him - that feels good. She’ll be happy if she never had to deal with him again. She’s glad he’s an ally and that he does keep his word. But she doesn’t really want to deal with him other than beating his ass - and though I’ll allow him to grow , I don’t think she’ll see it.

Yotsuyu

Meryta's feelingsaround Yotsuyu are complicated. She was happy to end the Viceroy's reign of Doma, and the initial impression of Yotsuyu's cruelty made Meryta with a very bad impression of her.

As she learned more of her, and of the cruelty done to her, her feelings morphed to pity. Not necessarily compassion or understanding - in Meryta's mind you always have a choice - but some of that is a lack of understanding of powerlessness, Meryta has more or less, always felt powerful, and afforded chances to be powerful without being cruel.

She also pitied 'Tsuyu' - for her loss of memory too, no matter how painful - though she agreed to let her live peacefully if she could have.

In the end she is upset at the circumstances that caused Yotsuyu to become who she did, while at the same time she would not have chosen differently, had she known earlier. Ultimately, in her mind, both the monster, and those who created the monster must die.

[tainbocuailnge]

Hey, sorry to send an ask without us knowing each other 😅

But I just saw you in the tags in the post about jrpg translations, saying that FF14 has better translations in other languages.

Can you talk more about that?😊

I played in English before and it was okay. I tried German too, but was a bit disappointed. So hearing you say that, I'm genuinely curious to hear more!

I've been replaying msq in german and wrapped up tsukuyomi just yesterday and it's insane the extent to which german is more thematically consistent and has stronger and more nuanced characterisation than english. i think the german script is more poetic too, despite english trying so much harder to sound flowery and important. I've been translating bits and pieces to my friends and I keep feeling like I'm presenting them with that botched jesus painting restoration because I just don't know how to convey how beautifully constructed some of these sentences are. the german translation team are genuinely very good writers.

as an example of what kind of differences we're dealing with here, and since it's what I finished most recently, in german from the start there's a lot more emphasis on how it was systematic mistreatment from the "good old" doma that lead yotsuyu to where she is, and that her cruelty is specifically retribution for the way doma has failed her (as opposed to english trying to frame it as in large part to satisfy her personal sadistic impulses). gosetsu is repeatedly shown to be sympathetic towards her for this even while she's actively trying to hurt and kill him (as opposed to english having him be sarcastically dismissive of her), which makes it make way more sense that he'd take tsuyu in his care later even without the "also she reminds him of his dead daughter" bit (that they do still tack on at the end but doesn't feel like a handwave excuse as much because of aforementioned consistent sympathy).

in english hien has several lines showing he's hostile to and wary of tsuyu and waiting for the right opportunity to kill her, but in german hien brings up killing tsuyu one (1) time and when gosetsu argues for her right to live hien agrees, and the difficulty in keeping her around is not his personal dislike but that it's hard to guarantee her safety when the doman people will want violent retribution in turn (in clear parallel to lyse trying to keep fordola from getting lynched without a fair trial). because german hien is not constantly talking about how he wishes he could just kill yotsuyu for her crimes, it doesn't read as pathetically incompetent of him to let her sneak out of the mansion multiple times because he was treating her as harmless citizen of doma instead of an enemy of the state (because german in general emphasises a lot that she SHOULD have had a place in doma), and her backstory is taken seriously as part of his motivation to create a better doma that she perhaps could've had a peaceful life in

there are many cases like this where german displays a nuance that english doesn't, and from very early on. in english arr cid ran away from the empire out of moral disagreements, in german it's clear that he also holds a complicated resentment over losing his father to project meteor and then his replacement father figure gaius to a similar mad search for power, something that in english doesn't come up until all the way in shadowbringers with bozja. in english castrum meridianum livia says she's going to kill you because gaius is hers, in german she's mad at you because you killed her friend mr cape westwind and is going to kill you before you can take gaius from her too.

in german heavensward thordan sounds much more convinced of his principles. when you defeat him in english he's horrified of how you could possibly overcome the amount of faith he's powered by, in german he's horrified that the future of ishgard will be thrown into chaos in the name of your pursuit of truth. gaius sounds more convinced of the ideals he spouts too, and it feels more plausible that he has people willing to die for him and his ideals. in german the similarities between nidhogg and estinien are clearer, and when nidhogg possesses him he insidiously frames it as an act of kindness.

in german, many random moments of misogyny in the english script outright don't exist. matoya doesn't make fun of alphinaud for looking like a girl. alphinaud isn't dismissive of alisaie in binding coils. most of the lines in english that insult or dismiss yotsuyu as an evil whore don't exist in german, and lines that weren't about her at all in english turn out to express sympathy towards her in german. in english hydaelyn had minfilia fuse with her by force, in german it was minfilia's idea. in english i was bothered by lyse being made head of the resistance because she sounds so unsure of what to do and think right until the end, in german she's full of conviction and clarity of purpose. I'm sincerely convinced the english team hates women.

because german doesn't go out of its way to sound like some kind of ancient wizard prophecy at every turn, several scenes which in english were confusing convey their information clearly in german (I'm particularly thinking about the minfilia anitower scene here). characters talk clearly and with a lot of personality that english fails to achieve because everyone has to speak faux old english. and because most characters talk like real people instead of ancient wizards in german it's extra cute that urianger does in fact talk like an ancient wizard.

as a more personal gripe, I have noticed several moments where the english script centers the warrior of light and their importance and struggles, while in german those scenes where about, like, the character the scene is about. german wol is still hydaelyn's favourite freak of nature and everyone loves them obviously, but as the example most fresh in my memory there's the scene in early post-stb where you visit fordola in her cell and she unwillingly looks into wol's past thanks to her fake echo. in english, she asks wol how they can bear all the suffering other people have put them through. in german, she asks how wol manages to stay sane when the echo makes you so deeply aware of the suffering of others. in the flashback of her past you see in that scene the german script also mentions that her face tattoo is an ala mhigan design, which makes it clearer than it was in english that she was specifically trying to rise the ranks of the imperial military as ala mhigan and makes her motivations more coherent - namely wanting to prove both the ala mhigans who hated her for being garlean and the garleans who hated her for being ala mhigan wrong by achieving success as both (and the power to lash out at both).

there have been very, very few moments where I actually thought the english script was better (shiva's trial lines and like, one line hien says at the steppe, that's it), and the vast majority of the time german is anywhere from about the same quality as english to just insanely better. the english script is so concerned with sounding cool and important that it becomes scared of letting characters be motivated by emotion. it's plagued by the kind of insincerity and insecurity that plagues so much of western media and leads to movie superheroes making fun of their own costumes. the english script will write one good line and then keep repeating that line ad nauseam and yet still fail to achieve the amount of internal thematic consistency the german script has, because english is relying on this handful of cool lines to carry its emotional core instead of actually letting the emotional core drive the characters. combined with the consistent pattern of dumbing down and/or vilifying female characters frankly I want to beat koji fox with hammers.

I'm actually very curious what about the german script disappointed you. the german voice acting is not good so if that's what turned you off I completely get it (I play with jp voices myself) but that's separate from the actual writing. these kind of things will ultimately always come down to personal preference so i won't judge but as you can tell from these several paragraphs i feel very strongly about the quality of the german script so I find it hard to imagine why you think that

[viiioca]

ok i gotta ask does estelle have any particularly strong feelings or judgments on hien? i know a lot of people find him pretty one-dimensional but im imagining estelle would have something to say about the way he views his duty, specifically when he agrees to destroy doma castle. just the contrasts and parallels between ishgardian and doman nobility.

oh that's a great question that i haven't really thought much about (SORRY HIEN I LIKE YOU I JUST DONT THINK ABOUT YOU OFTEN). apologies to doma & hien fans who have a strong grip on them because i'm not going back to check lore and dialogue and thinking about this super hard so we're flying by the seat of my pants. we are in vibes town. long ass answer under da cut

i think estelle certainly has some strong opinions about doma (she has strong opinions about mostly everything) that would transfer over to hien as the presiding head of state. it's a high-context society that is strongly conservative, patriarchal, hierarchical, and standing very much at the precipice of significant social and political change, so it's easy for her to draw parallels between the two. and i think that while hien is similar to aymeric in both personality and role within the state, there is a passiveness to hien's politics that she would find frustrating as well, because the state has subsumed a significant portion of hien's identity, which is partially cultural (the expectation that a good and honorable leader submits wholly, body and spirit, to the needs of his people) and partially personal (being raised under a garlean boot means that identifying as doman and being as doman as possible was critical to resisting oppression).

it makes him reactive rather than proactive, and while he can rise up with a ferocious set of teeth to protect his people, he seems to be leaving matters of social & cultural rebuilding up to the people themselves, who are struggling for stronger guidance beyond their immediate material needs. the people are his foremost concern (in a way that is genuinely quite progressive for a conservative culture, sacrificing tradition and artifice for continued human life and spirit), which is an admirable and genuinely desirable trait in a leader, but it comes at the expense of a coherent and cohesive vision for the future that he can lead his people towards.

which is to say: when it comes to droving the herd, he is more of a sheepdog than a shepherd. that temperament works fine (??) for established city-states like gridania and ul'dah, but as we see with ala mhigo and ishgard, states in active recovery require a willingness to aggressively pursue solutions. (i think it helps ala mhigo, too, that raubahn is balanced with lyse; like hien, raubahn is very much a sheepdog type of leader projecting strength for ala mhigans to look to, but it's lyse who has a genuine vision for ala mhigo's future that she actively pushes towards. hien doesn't really have a similar council he can look towards for the same sort of perspectives and division of labor, which is possibly why he taps on foreign contacts for guidance, e.g. the side-story where he invites g'raha to doma to discuss corvos & its recovery from garlean rule.)

estelle likes hien, so she would be diplomatic about this. but her concerns are plain. doma produced yotsuyu; it was not strictly an act of particularly villainous individuals (though they were), but also a culture that is perfectly complicit in the abuse of women and children, and a state that afforded no protections for them. what are his plans for this, then? how can he use his power and status to enact policy to minimize the chances of this happening again? what are his plans for future governance now that the threat of garlean reinvasion has passed? for a man who loves his people, and for a people who have spent the last few decades with no voice in government nor any power over their own futures, would it be proper to restore the monarchy and its layers of nobility where the smallfolk again have no hands on any lever of power? -- not quite needling, but more than clear about her Certain Political Opinions, and her displeasure about particular injustices that might find themselves repeating without a stronger plan. she's certainly not shy about her own politics and would absolutely press hien to become much more certain in his own.

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group A, Round 4, Poll 2:

Propaganda under the cut

Jin Guangyao

Out of a desperate attempt to scrape out a space where he belongs, feels safe, and gets what was denied to him. ...He does not succeed at this and instead racks up an impressive body... not that anyone would believe it for a long time on account of all the aforementioned gaslighting

ancient Chinese equivalent of an underpaid retail worker. also the illegitimate son of a powerful sect leader, who rose to power and became leader of that very sect while murdering all the people who have ever wronged him along the way. with a manipulative smile and a knack for looking like a pitiable weakling, he participated in the genocide of an entire sect to earn his father's approval, he led on his best friend in order to better solocit his protection, and he tricked this same best friend into murdering their third friend for revenge. he also used sex workers to kill his shitty father AND murdered his own son, and then played the mourning son/father facade to perfection. right up until the moment he gets stabbed to death and everything falls apart is he relentlessly manipulative, dishonest, and corrupt.

I hate this man but his entire life is him gaslight gatekeep girlbossing. He made it to the top by killing, lying, torturing etc. all while smiling and acting like the sweetest thing since sugar. He killed an old friend wjo didn't trust him and kept his decapitated head in his closet Wiped out an entire clan Killed his son Killed his father Sent his half brother into a dangerous situation that got him killed, because he was jealous Found out his fiancée was his half sister, didn't tell her and married her anyway. When she found out about that and him murdering their son he tried so hard to convince her she was crazy and being manipulated by someone that hated him, and when that didn't work he sedated her, locked her away and drove her to suicide His other half brother was the subject of a lot of horrible rumours. And Jin Guangyao kicked him out, back to his mother's abusive family. I don't think the rumours are confirmed to be from him, but it's certainly suspicious, especially since he didn't like his half brother and saw him as competition Traumatised sex workers then killed them Worked with a serial killer, then tried to kill him Kept an undead man who was fully sentient sedated in captivity to experiment on him And many other things. He even died trying to make his friend feel bad. It worked. Despicable man

Yotsuyu goe Brutus

She was sold to a brothel by her shitty aunt and rose through the ranks to become a highly sought-after courtesan, eventually meeting up with one of the big bads who was impressed by her hatred for her home country of Doma. A lot of murder later and she got put in charge of Doma, exacted her revenge by basically torturing the citizens, and absolutely getting off on it.

propaganda by @mosthuggableffxiv:

Yotsuyu goe Brutus was treated like shit her entire life and girlbossed as hard as she could as revenge (more detail below). Her response to an extremely shitty childhood and early life was to become a spy for the Garlean Empire, which was occupying her home country, Doma, and apparently be good enough at that that she ended up as basically in charge of the country (as the dude from the empire who was actually in charge could not give less of a shit about governing--sorry Zenos fans, but it's true). Having harbored a lifelong hatred for her countrymen, she took advantage of her position to make them suffer--the player first sees her in a scene where she's trying to force a man to prove his loyalty to the Empire by shooting his own parents, for example. Later, when the player character has allied with the Doman resistance and confronts Yotsuyu in a decisive battle, she begins to dump her traumatic backstory… in order to delay her death long enough that she can bring a building down on the player character and other people important to the resistance, including the rightful heir to the Doman throne. She seemingly dies when the building collapses, but later comes back with amnesia, having completely forgotten her past and all the atrocities she committed. A significant amount of time is spent trying to figure out if this is a trick, because she would do that, but it turns out that's actually what happened… at least until her brother shows up and forces her to remember her past by re-introducing her to her shitty abusive parents. Newly herself, but now feeling guilty for the war crimes, she kills her shitty abusive parents and summons a primal (a godlike being) inside herself to either re-take Doma or die. The latter ends up happening, perhaps not surprising given the number of primals that the player character has personally slain, but saves the last of her strength to murder Asahi and thus dies with her need for revenge fully sated.

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 7. Morsel Characters: Yotsuyu goe Brutus Rating: Teen Summary: Yotsuyu is feeling hungry Notes: None

Yotsuyu was enjoying her dinner immensely.

Being governor of this shithole nation had its perks, and she would be enjoying this particular perk quite a bit. Laid out before her was a sumptuous feast that had been prepared for her by those most loyal to the Garlean empire. The kitchen staff for tonight were either loyalists who had served even before her ascension to power, or those who had had the good sense to bow their head before their betters.

They had worked hard and diligently, and the feast they had provided her delighted the senses, scents that meshed will with one another, the wafting smells teasing the nose before one indulged the palate.

And it was a feast. A singular feast, for she was not entertaining guests or dignitaries, and she did not deign to have anyone eat with her this night, no, this was a feast for her and her alone. Overseen by guards, of course, it was always prudent to have a few of those around, clad in Garlean iron, now standing at ease around the perimeter of the room, keeping an eye out.

And her servants for the evening. None of them looking even slightly in her direction. Pitiful peasants, recently brought into her personal service here at Doma Castle. Their families still lived back in their home villages, but if they did a good enough job, perhaps a small stipend would be sent back home to help support them.

They would need it. The Garlean war effort was a hungry one, and wouldn't you know it, Doma just couldn't spare enough for their overlords and themselves.

Necessary, the sacrifices of war.

These peasants could make those sacrifices, of course.

And now these ones could watch the fruits of their labors as Yotsuyu helped herself to them.

Large fatty slabs of pork, served in a rich broth, with noodles of perfect firmness. Sizzling cuts of delectable meat on beds of green onion and rice. Fish, fresh fish, perfectly cut, perfectly deboned, perfectly plated. Delightful wine. Fragrant vegetables. And she took her time with every bit of it, savoring almost every morsel.

Almost. Most plates, she left a little bit behind, as though she had had enough of it and wished to move on to another course. She slyly watched the servants out of the corner of her eye, noticed when they swallowed, as they shifted their weight carefully. Noticed when they paused to take a particularly deep breath in, tilting their head every so slightly as though to gain just an iota more of the delightful smells. Noticed how hard they were trying to maintain their composure, to not look at her, to stand until needed, to bow and scrape appropriately as they delivered warm towels for her to wet her fingers between courses, as they poured more wine for her, as they very carefully attended to her every need.

As they pointedly never looked at the food left over on the plates, ready to be taken back to the scullery to be disposed of.

The kitchen staff had, of course, per her exacting instruction, been sent home for the night. She would need nothing further from them. And all the food, all the prep, had been carefully secured and was now under guard. The servants would have to wait until they got home to share their meagre rations between them. They had not served near long enough for her liking to warrant an increase in such.

At last, she was done with her meal, and she lifted a hand, to wave for the plates to be taken away. The servants all moved in, politely but swiftly, to take away the plates, each of which still had just a little bit left on them. A choice cut in the broth there, a good corner of a flank there, a decent helping of fresh fish there.

But as they got close, she flipped her hand around the other way, a motion meant to halt them, and each of them did stop, standing stock still, one with her hand on a plate ready to whisk it and its remaining contents away.

"On second though, stay near a moment. I find I feel a bit faint, and should perhaps have a bit more," she said, reaching first for the plate that the one servant had already grabbed the edge of, ready to lift it away.

The servant stood stock still and released their grasp on it immediately as Yotsuyu delicately took it from them. With great, deliberate slowness, she brought the plate to herself, and carefully, deliberately, with great and obvious enjoyment, savored the last morsel, making small pleasant noises to herself as she consumed it.

She set the now empty plate down, clean of any speck of food, and reached for another. And then, another. And over the next half bell, neither dismissing the servants nor bidding them further, Yotsuyu ate, the servants close, obviously nervous, in nearly intimate distance from her, but no closer, and each of them equally obviously uncertain if they should be further, back in their posts to wait for instruction along the wall.

At last, however, she was done, and she lifted her hand again. The plates, the bowls, the saucers, the cups, all were spotlessly clean of any scrap of food. This time, she sat back in her chair, and dabbed delicately at her lips, as the servants whisked the plates away, and each of them cleared the table, cleaning as they went, until the table was empty, and Yotsuyu was...

Well.

Empty, but unsatisfied.

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

Such trifling entertainments were not enough to sate her soul, but it soothed the gnawing for a bit.

[fisherrprince]

I’m gonna try something to see if I like the format before Shadowbringers proper. 🌖🌘🌑✨4.3-4.5 livethread ⤵️

every time a female VA is allowed to go RAAAAAHHHH and snarl and growl and roughen her voice for a line I cheer and clap and go YEAAAHHH YAY YAY YAY YAY (yotsuyu)

what is alphy nervous about. is it ghosts. it may be jhosts but every time he hides something it turns out bad

LIKE THE CRYSTALS

BNNUY

buny

why are all the videos like you can just get an apartment Bno i can’t they’re all FULL

sorry I have to fight miss bunny after work but I’m thinking about xiv always. I really like how so so many times there is not a right answer to the questions it poses there is only how do we fumble through dealing with it

A SUFFERING BAR IS SO MEAN

i had no idea what I was doing that whole time I died thrice. Thank you to the healer he was very nice to me. What was THAT. I’m upset

ohhhh I was accumulating stacks… by standing in one spot… blm curse. I should move my status effects where I can see them better

UNACCOMPANIED MINOR????? AT LEAST TAKE SOMEONE WITH YOU ALPHINAUD

he died but he got better

ZENOS BODYSWAP POSSESSION?????? ?? ????? HE HUH. and there he goes flying away like peridot stevenuniverse

IM ALPHY

???!!!!!!!!

Oh no now I have to decide where I want an apartment. Thank you everyone. Now I have to decide where to live

i have come around on Yotsuyu. She has two Very good ends and though the middle bits were a touch grating to me she did in fact make me cry

hab apartment

GREAT. GOOGLY MOOGLY. how many ascians has this guy killed????

wgere is my son

ari, watching alisaie pace: ah anxiety also runs in the family

every so often I run into a boss that is widely known as a problem that my party carries us through easily and I go Why is this the hard one? And look up why and go oh i get it. I get it. Mist dragon I get it

MAGNAI. BROTHER………

[rydiathesummoner]

Ranking the shittiest moms in FFXIV

#6: Matoya

"Mentor" my ass. If Thancred is Ryne's dad, Matoya is Y'shtola's mom. Matoya made this list for the sole reason that she made Y'shtola grow up in a damn cave. Why? Why a dark cave? It's ok if Matoya didn't want to go back to anything related to Sharlayan. There are plenty of other places to take your protegé. That said, even though she speaks harshly she loves Y'shtola. She gripes, but she always helps Y'shtola and her friends. She's never like "you're an adult now, piss off." She worries about Y'shtola's health. It could have been worse.

#5: Julyan Manderville

She's a loving and doting mother, until someone indicates she's old. Then it's lights out. With a frying pan. Have you ever held a cast iron pan? No wonder Gilgamesh went through the wall. Girl is slinging brain damage left and right for the sin of assuming she's over 21. Even though she has an adult son. She booted her son over a continent. No really, a literal continent. I'd call that terrible abuse except... you know, Hildebrand and all that... not like he can die.

#4: Cahciua

There's no doubt that Cahciua loves Erenville. However, she was the mom who dumps her kid on friends and relatives so she can maintain her pre-baby lifestyle. Lady you chose to have a kid. You have to adapt. A kid-free lifestyle is unattainable when you have a kid. She strikes me as the type to have a kid for the "adventure" of raising a kid, then they don't do any of the work but still go on about how hard parenthood is.

#3: Teeshal Ja

This lady. She genuinely thought she could baby-trap Zoraal Ja. Bitch, how dumb can you be. I still want to know if for her "boon" she actually asked to have sex with him, or just requested his splooge and made a clone. Either way, Gulool Ja was a means to an end for her, not a beloved son. That said, she didn't toss him in the trash when Zoraal Ja left, and she made an effort to hide him from danger so she's not as awful as she could have been.

#2: Athena:

Holy hell where to begin. She had a kid with a guy she used for power. While most parents want the best for their kids, Athena very deliberately made her son wimpy and compliant. She never loved Erichthonios. To her, he was a specimen. Had she achieved godhood, she would have tossed him in the trash without a second thought. Her last moments were spent telling Erichthonios "ew, you're so useless." Bitch. You deserve to spend eternity in a room full of voice #4 lalas.

#1: Asahi's mom/Yotsuyu's aunt

I started this list thinking Athena would be the obvious winner. But then I remembered this sack of shit. She sold her adopted daughter into prostitution. She didn't feed her. At the end, she had absolutely no remorse about how she treated Yotsuyu. Hell, her last words to Yotsuyu were like "ugh, why don't you just die already? That would be so much more convenient for me!" And it's not just Yotsuyu. She also raised Asahi. You know, the little shit. She raised him to be a little shit. She taught him that abuse and neglect are fine. She utterly failed at both kids she raised. Here's why she's worse than Athena: the Athenas of the world commit "big" crimes that get talked about. This bitch doesn't even get a name. No historian will look at Yotsuyu's crimes and mark down the actions of the woman who raised her. Her cruelty is insidious and silent in comparison to big world events, and because of that this kind of cruelty is widespread and goes unpunished. The Yotsuyu's Moms of the world have caused more collective harm to humanity than one-off psychos like Athena. This cunt deserves to spend eternity in a room full of voice #5 miqo'tes. All bards. All going WAO! WAO! WOOOO! WOO! like a damn police siren. All day. And when they are not waoing, they are playing shitty off-key midi songs, and all of them are slightly out of sync in the song. You deserve it.

[dualcastimpact]

dawntrail impressions pt. xii

In this installment: the sins of a people and—what's this? A mother who's not dead in FFXIV????

Spoilers below the cut, as always:

I'm being a little cavalier about the whole mothers thing but if you really think about it, fathers (or grandfathers) play pretty significant roles throughout all the expansions. There's:

Louisoix, who kicked the whole thing off in ARR;

Heavensward which was almost completely about fathers: Count Edmont de Fortemps' and his foil Archbishop Thordan VII, with one dedicated to bettering Ishgard's future alongside his sons and the other dedicated to preserving Ishgard's past in direct conflict against his son, and Midgardsormr—the father of all dragons—giving his children wake-up calls;

Lyse's relationship with her father helping her understand the Ala Mhigan spirit of resistance better, Gosetsu's adoption of the amnesiac Yotsuyu because of how she reminded him of his dearly departed daughter, and Jenomis cen Lexentale's obsession with Ivalice impacting his children in Stormblood;

the Crystal Exarch and his granddaughter Lyna, Gaius and his adopted children, and that one questline about the young woman on the trail of her father who'd committed suicide in Shadowbringers;

Fourchenault's entire fucking deal in Endwalker;

and finally the well-meaning and doting father Gulool Ja Ja, the father who gave up all rights to that title Hunmu Rruk, and the asshole dad Zereel Ja in Dawntrail.

There's a lot to be said about (grand)fathers in each expansion like I've highlighted above, but very little about (grand)mothers. We don't know jack about Louisoix's wife. The only thing we know about Count Edmont de Fortemps' wife is that she's dead and hated Haurchefant. We don't know anything about Aymeric's mother. Presumably Curtis Hext's wife is dead just like Gosetsu's is, but we don't know anything about her in the context of the resistance against the Empire (unlike Gosetsu and Jenomis' wives whose only role is to be their Lost Lenores). Even in Dawntrail there isn't any mention of Gulool Ja Ja or Hunmu Rruk's wives; maybe Mamool Ja can reproduce asexually so there's no need for a wife in Gulool Ja Ja's case, but surely Wuk Lamat would have a mother?

It's why Miilal Ja is such an interesting character to me; living mothers are very rare in FFXIV, and she's not like the typical living mothers we've seen so far either. Barring Athena, F'lhaminn (as per my knowledge of her from 2.0 onwards), Dulia-Chai and Ameliance are all loving mothers who are in relatively good places—F'lhaminn is supported by the Scions, and Dulia-Chai and Ameliance are rich with loving husbands—while Miilal Ja is living in an abusive society (more on that later) with a very clearly abusive spouse. It makes her taking the initiative to reach out to Wuk Lamat and ultimately reveal the darkness behind Mamook all the more meaningful—it's easy to take action when you're a woman of action (F'lhaminn) or in a position of power and privilege (Dulia-Chai and Ameliance), not so much when you're beaten and downtrodden like Miilal Ja.

———

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "...What, couldn't wait to laugh at the failure?"

It's not an uncommon shōnen trope, the secretly-insecure braggart who blusters and boasts and bullies his way to hide and overcompensate for his perceived failings, who's later revealed to be facing intense pressure and abuse from a domineering patriarch. It doesn't excuse everything he's done, but among the four claimants it makes him a far more relatable character than the others—even (especially) stock shōnen hero Wuk Lamat. It's easy to dismiss this line as part of his egotism, but this is simply a boy hiding away and licking his wounds after failing to do the one thing he's supposedly good for. Maybe it's just my own experiences, but it's hard not to relate to that or at least feel a little sorry for him—especially after Zereel Ja's very public display earlier.

———

Miilal Ja: "The Third Promise seeks to learn about Mamook. She may be our chance to finally end what we have been powerless to stop."

Miilal Ja: "Talk with her. Tell her...what we have done."

And now we come to the truth of the matter: the darkness within Mamook's heart.

———

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "Fine. Perhaps it's only right that we be the ones to speak of it. "Blessed" as we are..."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mystic: "Do you know how blessed siblings are made?"

Krile: "I heard that they are born to Hoobigo and Boonewa parents."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mystic: "Such unions between clans were originally arranged to stop infighting. The war between the Xbr'aal was going poorly, and we needed to be united."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mystic: "Then one day, a child was born. One blessed with two heads...and tremendous power."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "When this child grew old enough to lead our army, we became unstoppable. The Xbr'aal had no answer, and we drove them all the way back to the trees above."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "That taste of victory awakened our greed. We became obsessed with conceiving more and more of these superior children. No matter the cost..."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "Of the countless born, most die...trapped in their shells."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mystic: "Only one in a hundred survive."

Remember what I said earlier about how it's all the more meaningful that Miilal Ja is the one who takes the initiative to bring Wuk Lamat into the fold, in hopes of ending that which they "have been powerless to stop"? Even this shows her limits—as the Autarch's wife, as the one who gave birth to the blessed siblings Bakool Ja Ja, not only she would have not been exempt from having to conceive as many children as she could in hopes of one of the children being a two-headed Mamool Ja, she would have been expected to contribute the most. We don't know if the Autarch's wife plays a role within Mamook society—if she was seen as a guiding matriarch for the womenfolk—but if she did, she would have not been able to console those grieving for their lost children, or defend those suffering from what is essentially sexual slavery.

Because that's one thing that I don't see people talk about when it comes to this particular revelation/plot point—it's sad and tragic that so many children are conceived and die in their shells, essentially stillborn, but nobody talks about what it does to the men and women involved. If we're going by the idea that Mamool Ja can reproduce asexually, that might not have been an issue but! Blessed siblings are explicitly said to be born from the union of Hoobigo and Boonewa parents, therefore it's unlikely for them to come from asexual reproduction, which means sex is involved, and treating the men and women of Mamook as a never-ending baby factory is no different than subjecting them to sexual slavery.

Miilal Ja is so tied to this pervasive cycle herself, it's to the point where it's not she who reveals the darkness within Mamook's heart to our heroes—it's Bakool Ja Ja who's telling this story. And yet she's the one who reaches out to Wuk Lamat and acts as the bridge between her and Bakool Ja Ja—the hope of Mamook. Without her, there could be no reconciliation. There could be no hope for Mamook.

And it all began with the words of a weary, downtrodden mother and wife. That means a lot, I think.

———

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "If we are "blessed," it is only because we yet live. Unlike our brothers and sisters who were sacrificed for the glory of Mamook."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "Of course it's horrible! It's an atrocity we can never take back!"

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "Those children died so that we could live! So we had to succeed, no matter what! To fail would mean it was all for nothing! ...Nothing!"

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "...But I did fail. I squandered their sacrifice."

And there we have it. It's not just pressure from the overbearing, domineering, abusive patriarch—it's the weight of all the dead children before him, born to die for the sake of Mamook's glory, so heavy on his shoulders to the point where he's internalised the sins of Mamook as his own.

———

What will you say? > I sympathize with your pain, but... > Don't use them as an excuse.

There comes a point where as much as I enjoy seeing my Warrior of Light take center stage, I don't really like how the game shoehorns the Warrior into reacting in situations that don't involve them. Dawntrail has several of these instances, and they're all the more aggravating considering Wuk Lamat is supposed to the main character—so why is the Warrior of Light chiming in when it doesn't involve them? Remember, the Warrior of Light is only acting as a mentor, an outsider providing a third perspective, a neutral party there to assist their chosen claimant. They're not here to judge, what the heck.

———

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "I...I should never have been born."

Now that's just fucking sad, man.

———

Of course, since Dawntrail is basically the shōnen manga/JRPG tropes expansion, we can't have a scene between the stock shōnen hero and her bully of a rival without a rousing speech from the hero!

Wuk Lamat: "You're wrong."

Wuk Lamat: "You didn't ask to be born as you are, and—you aren't responsible for your siblings' deaths."

Wuk Lamat: "The people obsessed with blessed siblings are. They made their choices...but they don't make yours!"

Wuk Lamat: "Since when do you let others push you around, Bakool Ja Ja? What do you want? Say it!"

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "I...want it to end."

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "I don't want any more to die."

Wuk Lamat: "Then you have my word. We'll put a stop to this madness."

———

Can't forget the bully turning over a new leaf and apologising...

Bakool Ja Ja the Mighty: "I'm sorry. For what I've said...and done. I don't expect your forgiveness."

Wuk Lamat: "You had your reasons. I'm glad I could know them."

...and a heart-warming scene of the two putting aside their differences to work together for the betterment of all.

———

Aaaaaand finally the stock shōnen hero derails the tension with a cheeky, juvenile joke—that's always a classic!

Wuk Lamat: "Which is to say...you're not a complete alpaca's ass."

(sighs)

I have Thoughts™ about this whole plot point, most of which I've outlined re: Miilal Ja and the inherent sexual horror of Mamook's obsession with the blessed siblings, but also I know, I know the premise of so many stillborn children being birthed to the point where it's said to be countless is supposed to be horrifying in itself, but a good degree of that horror is diluted by the sheer fact that the Mamool Ja are, well, non-human. They're very distinctly reptilian-coded, they would have been (and were!) known as beastmen before FFXIV did away with that terminology, Bakool Ja Ja states that the infants die in their shells which means they're born from eggs... and I get that a life in an egg is a life regardless but people don't really think of eggs that way! You don't feel sad when you see a smashed bird egg, or mourn the loss of potential life in that egg. Yes, it's very likely Mamool Ja eggs don't quite work that way but it doesn't really register; there's so much distance from the reality of that horror that it doesn't really sink in. We know so little about how Mamool Ja reproduce and procreate and the exact circumstances surrounding a Mamool Ja's birth—do they lay eggs? do the women keep the eggs within them until the embryo inside reaches infancy like a pregnancy, or do the eggs mature outside the mother? is laying an egg as painful a process as giving birth?—to the point where that horror doesn't really connect for us. I can't help but wonder why they made this a plot point with the Mamool Ja—was it a clever way to create conflict around the existence of two-headed Mamool Ja, or was it because if we applied this same concept to a more mammalian or human-like race, it'd be a thousand degrees more traumatising? Imagine women constantly getting pregnant and giving birth to stillborn babies, again and again and again and again—

It's the stuff nightmares are made of.

I'd usually say I'm happy to hear your thoughts on this matter, but 1) I'm STILL at level 95 MSQ so would appreciate no spoilers regarding the Mamool Ja since I know we learn a little more about them in the later stages of the MSQ; and 2) it's frankly too disturbing to think about.

[c0rpseductor]

in some ways i do think the narrative is a little hard on yotsuyu in that other characters do not express much sympathy for her really horrific abuse history, but in others it’s a bit too afraid to lay the blame for her own actions at her feet, and feels uncomfortable with the idea of this sort of like “idealized feminine” woman having the agency to do as she has done. personally what resonates with me about yotsuyu is this sort of friction, wanting to sympathize with her but also to hold her to account. there are a lot of fumbles with yotsuyu imo bc the writers just seem really unsure about the territory they wade into with her, but what resonates with me about yotsuyu’s story as a narrative about surviving sexual abuse is that like. she’s a bad fucking person and chose to be that way. her abuse contributed to that in huge ways but what she chose to take away from it was ghoulish and horrible. it just hits me a lot bc i recognize so much of it; victims of abuse sometimes develop a sort of entitlement that leads them to be actively cruel to others as if their suffering is all that matters and has absolved them of all future wrongdoing. as ugly and uncomfortable as that is in a culture where i think there’s a tendency to sort people into “perfect, convenient victim” or “not actually a victim at all” it’s true, and despite all the messiness i like seeing that in yotsuyu. ultimately i think it’s a constructive message too, like if you have to choose to be horrible and cruel to others you can also choose to dig yourself out of the pit and be kind. you’re not doomed. and yotsuyu wasn’t doomed, really. so much of it was not her choice, but so much of it was, too. yknow? it says a lot to me that at that critical juncture where she’s finally being shown kindness and given a chance and could, theoretically, try to be better, she rejects that chance. she never had to. idk. love her a lot terrible evil woman

[meximango]

Day 30 - Two Heads Are Better Than One - Tibby + Luvon - PG

Summary: Two adventurers have a chat from their jail cells. Takes place during Stormblood.

A bit silly, but this one is inspired by alternative versions of these characters lol. I could see it happening to their ffxiv counterparts, thus this was born! Their first meeting. I imagine Tibby goes on to join Ironworks after Luvon tells her about it in conversation after the events of this fic. The fic is a nod to my bg3 playthrough where Luvon ended up in jail about 20 different times despite being a goody two shoes, because he was bad at talking his way out things lol. And then in my dnd campaign where I play a version of Tibby, she ended up in jail through a series of many consecutive bad rolls recently… But hey! These characters are great at jailbreaks, good for them.

--

“Hello there! Is this your first time getting arrested?” The soft, warm voice broke up the monotony of nothing but the faint whistling of wind above her and the steady drip of water from a broken pipe somewhere nearby. Tibby startled, cursing as she placed a hand over her chest. She paused in the thorough examination of her dingy cell so that she could look around for the source of the voice. There were at least eight cells, and she hadn’t noticed or heard anyone when she was escorted here, so she hadn’t expected company. By her estimations, it had been about a bell since she’d been brought down here. After a few moments scanning the dim dungeon, she saw a tan, pudgy hand poke through the bars of a cell across the room diagonally from her, about twenty fulms away. It waved at her from about torso level. A lalafell, then. Must be why I missed him. “What’s it to you, and who’s asking?” She meant to come off as casually curious, but it ended up coming out sharper than intended. Well, she was stressed, so sue her! She didn’t have time for idle chit-chat, not when she had to get out of here, and fast. Her ‘trial’ would likely be hastened due to just who she’d crossed. If the man in the other cell caught on to her attempts and was a snitch, she was fucked.  “Just trying to make conversation. I was meditating before, so I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I was awoken when the guards delivered our evening…victuals, that they were so kind to prepare.” He had paused just long enough before the word ‘victuals’, that Tibby was sure he had been searching for a kinder description than what she would have called it: ‘an affront to nature and completely inedible slime’. When that earned him a little snort of laughter from her, he added on, “My name is Luluvon, but just Luvon is fine.” “Well, ‘just Luvon’, you can call me Tibby. The slop they deigned to bring us should be arrested for impersonating food; eating it might kill me faster than the hanging I’m sure to have earned myself.” Luvon shuffled in alarm. “Certainly not? It is rather uncommon to be sentenced to death. Hard labor, fines, or banishment are the usual punishments.” “Not when you’ve slighted the viceroy herself…” she confessed quietly, bonking her forehead against the cool metal of the bars in front of her.  The pause was rather long, as Luvon seemingly processed her words. Most likely he was trying to calculate how huge of an idiot she must have been to go against the acting ruler of Doma. “You certainly are brave, to anger Yotsuyu,” Luvon finally responded, aiming for forced levity. It didn’t work. Tibby grabbed the bars of her cell in the tightest grip possible, as though she could break out of here with pure force. Unfortunately, she wasn’t gifted with a muscular body, only a muscular mind–and what good was intelligence when she had no worldly experience to go with it, no wisdom at all! Her arms shook with the effort of trying to wrench the bars apart, but they were made of a strong alloy, not a hint of rust. The bars didn’t rattle or creak, not even a little. 

“That certainly is a word, but I wouldn’t choose it. I’m really, really not. I just thought I was good enough to get away with it, or that everyone else would be slower and stupider than me and get caught instead, if things went awry. But nope. I'm the only one who ended up getting caught. The sad thing is, I was pretty close! Then a series of poor calculations landed me here.” She groaned in frustration, willing the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes not to fall. 

Why did this have to happen to her? Why not one of the others? She would have thrown one of her group under the carriage instead, if that had been an option to save herself. Instead, they were likely malms away by now, with no intentions of springing her free. She hadn’t even caught their names, so there would be no providing intel for the hopes of a lighter sentence. “A group effort, then… It must feel hopeless, having to take the fall for the actions of multiple. What exactly did you attempt to do? Or were you successful?”

Tibby bristled a bit at that. No need to rub it in that she was completely alone! She wasn’t going to give up just yet. Stepping away from the bars, she went back to examining her cell elsewhere for weaknesses. 

“Well, I needed to make some quick gil. High risk, high reward. I didn’t realize how high the risk, but it’s too late for that. Some people are willing to pay a great deal to pull one over the viceroy, and she sounded like a monster, from everything I’ve heard. I was all too glad to screw her over. So I agreed to try stealing something important from her personal quarters… And I did steal it! The plan was flawless. We got through the security, the locks, the traps, the navigational issues, distracted the guards and her secretary, and I was just about to crawl out the window when she came back–far earlier than she was scheduled to, I might add. One particularly astute guard was all it took to ruin my clandestine visit and departure.” Tibby didn’t offer further detail than that, and the lalafell didn’t ask, seemingly satisfied with her answer. This near stranger didn’t need to know which shady underground company she’d gone to for work, nor what item they’d wanted, and how it would have aided in a lot of forgeries, tax fraud, and who knows what else that didn’t concern her. So what if a criminal wanted to impersonate a nation’s leader? He certainly couldn’t have been more evil than Yotsuyu herself, and he’d kept up his end of previous deals they’d made, so she didn’t bother thinking about it too hard. It was supposed to pay well. It was supposed to be her ticket out of here! Boat rides to other continents were so expensive, and stowing away only worked on short trips.  

“To plan so far, try so hard, and still come up short… I know what it is like.” Luvon’s voice lacked pity, despite her dire straits. It resonated with truth–with understanding. Tibby appreciated it. “You must, if you’re stuck here too. So, what are you in for, then? It’s only fair.”

“Of course! While my crimes weren’t quite so personal as breaking into a government official’s residence, the law enforcers still viewed me as enough of a danger to the line of rule so as to lock me away.” Luvon tapped his fingers against the bars absentmindedly in the semblance of a song. “It was not necessarily my intention, as I do not enjoy endangering others, but I may have given a few impassioned speeches that incited a large group of farmers into rebelling against their oppressors,” Luvon admitted sheepishly. It seemed to be for show. He did not sound particularly guilty about it, as though this was par the course for someone like him. 

Of all the people to meet in jail, she didn’t expect this. A drunkard who pissed on a guard’s boots by accident, maybe. Maybe a horse rustler. A stab-happy murderer, perhaps. But not a foreigner who stirred up the hearts of the working class. 

It made her feel a little bit better, discovering his crime was on a grand scale as well. A little less lonely, facing certain doom knowing someone else was in the same shoes. 

“Huh. Maybe we’re both doomed, then. That I wasn’t executed on sight was a surprise, but I probably only have until dawn so they can make a public example of me in daylight–which were the guards’ words by the way, not mine. I don’t think they were bluffing.”

Do they really do that here? Kill criminals in front of the entire town? That’s not how I wanted to leave this mortal coil. I never should have left home. Mom and dad, you might have been right. 

“They told you that?” “Yeah, they laughed about wishing me sweet dreams for my last night on the star, as they took all my stuff. I clawed one of the guards in the face for that. And if they’re going to kill me over some attempted thievery, I can’t imagine anything less pleasant for you either.” “I suppose. In my case, though, making a public martyr of me would have the opposite effect they’re aiming for.” “Oh, so just me up on that stage, then. Goody.” “You will not be dying tomorrow. This I believe,” Luvon said with such blunt certainty, such conviction, that for a moment Tibby almost felt she could believe it. 

Tibby wasn’t an optimistic person, though. Unless she did something to get herself of this, she was on a ship set to sail straight into the waiting maw of death. Best to keep working on her jailbreak, before it was too late. She began quietly disassembling her bed, hoping its raw components could be fashioned into something helpful. Luvon hadn’t asked or mentioned anything about what she was doing. That combined with what he’d done to end up here made her doubt he was about to flag a guard down to tattle on her. The floor wasn’t something she could hope to dig through, and the walls didn’t have any loose paneling either. Why couldn’t this cell have shoddier construction? 

Might as well keep talking to keep her mind off the rising panic. 

“So…How did it go? Did the farmers get put back in their place, or were they able to overthrow their leaders?”

The lights were too dim to make out his facial expression from so far away, but there was a definite smile in Luvon’s voice when he answered. “Let’s say that specific town will be running on its own terms, for a while. So long as they are still willing to sell their produce as usual. They will be getting paid fairly, finally, though. While proceedings are a ways off from reclaiming Doma Castle or anything close to being a blip on the radar of neighboring countries, it’s a step. Terms are being negotiated under the table; there are a lot of efforts to keep it hush-hush, away from the newspapers, lest neighboring towns get the same idea in their heads. Luckily casualties were kept to a minimum. I tried to keep it so–the minimum bloodshed and sacrifice for the maximum effect. In the end, I turned myself in so they had a ‘big bad orchestrator’ they could blame, lock away, and consider the problem taken care of. One city down, countless more still under their thumb.” Tibby blinked a few times, processing that. “You weren’t caught. You willingly gave yourself up?” “Mhmm. And here I am. It was a good trade!” He sounded…proud? That couldn’t be right. He was joking, right? Or was he a righteous fool? “Are you an idiot?” She couldn’t help blurting out. There really was nothing else she could think to say. A good trade?! This man needed to learn some bargaining skills! Luvon laughed, like what she said truly tickled him. “It depends on who you ask, but I fear a majority would be on your side. It is all part of the plan. I’m glad it’s working.” “You’re going to rot away here at best, get murdered quietly in this dank basement at worst, and you’re glad?!” She was incredulous. He was insane. Had to be. What was he getting out of this? A sense of accomplishment and self importance before he jumped into the aetherial sea? “You must be wondering why I would do something like that, with no gain for myself and no guarantee of a future.” Woah! And now he can read minds? You have to tell me if you know what I’m thinking. The square root of 625 is…? Luvon had no reaction to that, even though the answer was obviously 25, so it must have been a lucky guess. Maybe her own brain was starting to unravel from this baffling conversation. She went on autopilot a bit and started assembling all the bits and bobs she’d found around her tiny cell in a row in front of her. The guards had taken all of her tools and gear, leaving only her underclothes and an itchy frock of thin material. Hopefully she could build something stable out of this junk, but her hopes were not high. It would have to be small. “Well, yeah. Nobody does selfless stuff like that, not even heroes. They’re not allowed to go to jail or die for their deeds, not unless the stakes are much higher than one town full of farmers.” One dinky town full of farmers. Who would even notice? What did it matter? Luvon chuckled at that, supposedly amused by her answer. “To that town, that may be their entire world. It’s relative.” Tibby gulped back emotion, suddenly incredibly homesick. Her thoughts had been so callous, but Luvon was right. Her own hometown of Sui-no-Sato had seemed so large, growing up. It had been everything she’d ever known for so long. When she left, she realized how tiny and isolated it really was. That small bubble under the sea was insignificant and completely unknown to the majority of the star. If it popped and disappeared, who would care or notice? Just like that town full of farmers… To them, Luvon had saved their everything. That was all nice and dandy for someone with a big heart, but did he even know them? Was it personal? He couldn’t have been from there, not with his accent. Maybe Tibby would do a lot for her hometown, but not for some random people. “It still doesn’t make sense to me,” she admitted quietly. What could his motivations possibly be?

“The truth is, I was forced to live under the Garlean empire’s heel, my life threatened on the daily, for years. After escaping that hell and still keenly remembering what it was like, having to suffer in constant fear–I can’t help but do what I can so others can get out of a situation like that. To show them how strong they are together, so they can better help themselves.” He still remained so calm and serene, and his voice was so gentle, it nearly hurt. But there was a somberness to him, especially as he continued. “Someone very, very dear to me had made the greatest of sacrifices to return to the lifestream so I could gain freedom and lead others out of the empire as well. I am willing to see to it that others who are subjugated get that chance too.” Tibby couldn’t imagine someone dying for her, a debt that could never be repaid. If she fought so hard for escape, she’d never risk getting trapped again, not even to help others gain a chance of autonomy. 

“Seems a big waste, you throwing away your freedom like that to give it to others. Wouldn’t that be like spitting in the face of the person who sacrificed for you? Dishonoring their memory?” She felt angry on behalf of that so-called dear person to Luvon. What was he doing here, wasting that gift? “That is the last thing I would want to do.” He didn’t sound wounded by her accusations, but rather the thought of hurting someone who was already long-dead, pained him. “He believed the lives of many were worth more than his own. I was upset by his decision, but I would have done the same, in his position. I believe the same, regarding myself–but I am not one to so easily give up. Only if no other options existed, would I give up my life to save the many. It is called a greater good, after all. But my life is something he viewed as precious, so I try to honor that when I can.” This wasn’t adding up. Tibby felt she was on the cusp of an epiphany with this guy, but it was out of reach. She pondered on it as her hands kept busy. She finished making a very poor reconstruction of a lockpick that she hoped would hold up against the padlock on her door. It was a skill she found she had a natural talent for, which came in handy as someone constantly low on funds but rich with hair pins. She began the process of picking the lock. Methodically, she focused on setting the tumbler pins in place, one at a time. Halfway through this process, it came to her. 

“There’s always another option. You could have left the farmers to take equal blame, or attacked the enforcers more ardently. You wanted to avoid too much loss, but you don’t consider yourself ending up here a great loss, despite cherishing your own freedom. Which means…you wouldn’t have given yourself up, unless–you were certain that you could gain your freedom again!” That had to be it, right? And with that, she also got the last pin in place. The lock clicked open. Eureka! She could finally open the door and figure a way out of the rest of the building!

“Correct. A most excellent deduction!” Luvon praised. His voice was much, much closer to her than it had been, which nearly had her flailing backwards in surprise.

Tibby had been so busy thinking his logic through and openly escaping her cell, that she hadn’t noticed him making his way to her cell. He opened her door, motioning for her to exit whenever she was ready. “When did you get out?” She hissed quietly, but she did exit and started following him toward the stairway that would lead up toward the guard station and the locked chests containing their belongings. “This is not my first time locked up. Once you have escaped one jail cell, the guard patterns and steps do not change much. It gets easier and easier. I took the key off the guard when he first locked me in here, and I returned it when he brought my first meal. I didn’t know I’d be joined by a guest, or I could have kept the key for you. Nice impromptu lockpicking, though! If you had been unable to get it, I would have punched the lock off the door for you. Quite noisy, that option–so thank you for letting us avoid the ruckus.” 

Incredible. This strange fellow kept finding new ways to surprise her. How was he so casual about this and helping a fellow criminal escape? He seemed to enjoy helping people, so she’d take whatever help she could get, while it lasted. “I can’t believe you could have left at any time. Why didn’t you?”

“There is a better chance of success when the guards are less likely to pay attention, and the cover of night makes stealth easier too. Their security is most lax at the evening shift change, which starts in approximately…oh! Now, actually. Perfect timing.” Distantly, Tibby thought she could maybe make out a clock dinging. His hearing must be sharper than hers. This all came together far too smoothly. No way. Just how experienced was Luvon at getting out of these types of situations? Tibby was not about to squander this good luck. 

  “Well, two heads are better than one. Since you’re so experienced at this, I’ll let you lead. Ready to get our belongings back and bust our way out of this place?”

Luvon rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles in preparation, taking on a stance that seemed vaguely familiar…Oh. He must have been a monk! That certainly explained the comment about punching a lock. Was he a traveling adventurer? She had so many questions for him, her curiosity not in the least bit sated. That could wait until they got out of here, though. “Ready. When we get up there, you can start picking the locks to the chests with our belongings, while I knock out the guards. From there, I know a safe path that will lead us out of town. “Got it.” Against her usual judgment, Tibby trusted this guy. She had the strangest feeling this wouldn't be their last time working together. 

Nodding to each other in understanding, they snuck up the stairs toward freedom.

[souridealist]

FFXIVwrite day 3: 'Tempest'

[I took the obvious bait. Anticipation of death, mentions of suicidal tendencies in the past.]

---

The watery half-light of the Tempest is cruel, Alphinaud decides: it only makes Elilona look worse. She’s so wrong now: her freckles gone, her hair and lips and nails all bleached the same dull grey as her skin. She’s as colorless as a statue. And with the blue ripples playing over them all, it’s hard to tell if that plain gray is bleaching white, or if it’s just Alphinaud’s own fear.

Her eyes are still the same, luminous and gold. He tries to hold to that.

“Alphinaud,” she says, and he jumps, caught fretting. Or not, in fact — she’s holding a slip of paper, turning it over in between her hands. “I’ve… been trying to write to my mother. It’s not very good, but — can you make sure that she gets it? If you just bring it to Feo Ul…”

“Elilona,” Alphinaud cuts her off, trying to remember a single eloquent or useful word. “This isn’t over. We’ll find something —”

“If we do, that’s good,” she interrupts him. “But we may not have much time. So, please.” She holds out the paper; it’s tied with a plain, unassuming cord, unsealed. He’s not sure she has a seal, in this world or any other.

“If I may ask, what are you planning?” She looks away. “Elilona, please.”

“What… the Exarch planned,” and Twelve help them both, of course the name is the only place she hesitates. “You and Y’shtola and Urianger should be able to open something enough. I take the Light through.” She spreads her hands.

“No.” His hands shake; for a moment he can smell too many perfumes and the Ul’dah desert, worlds away and under fathoms of suspended water. “No. We are not going to sacrifice you.”

“It’s not as if it would be any better for me staying here,” she says. “This is two worlds, Alphinaud. If that sacrifice isn’t worth it, then what ever could be?”

There have been too many sacrifices. He doesn’t need the Echo — for all he’d do to have it, all he’d give to stand beside her — he doesn’t need the Echo to know that she’s seeing them all: Papalymo, Minfilia, her beloved Ysayle, Haurchefaunt, Y’sthola’s eyes and Thancred’s magic, all the way back to Noraxia and to G’raha the first time, back when Alphinaud wasn’t even there and wouldn’t have been welcome if he were. Even their enemies’ sacrifices — Ilberd, Yotsuyu, the Warriors of Darkness, Rhitatyn, the Knights Twelve, Livia, every brave and nameless soldier who Garlemald marched against them. Even Zenos, in his way. All those bargains.

The phrase clangs in his head like a bell: one life for one world.

He realizes he’s cracked when he sees her realize it.

“I’m not giving up,” he says, taking the paper. “None of us are. But, yes, I’ll make sure… I’ll make sure that this gets sent.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze drops to the seafloor sand. “There’s something almost funny in it. I hadn’t realized how much I don’t want to die.”

He knew it. He knew he was right not to leave her alone, in those dark days after Thordan’s fall.

“You won’t,” he says. “Not here.”

[stxrmnight]

Fandaniel's Rencor - Where were you?

For @applesyrcusweek Day 4 - Free Day Thank you @/marshberries for the idea and Fandaniel dialogue help This supposed to be brief headcanon piece turned into a full pov fic from Fandaniel towards my WoL in Endwalker, so I decided to add it to the week. I linked the WoL lore details referenced but there is should be no need to read them to enjoy this fic

Since Nemi managed to be let go by Hermes from Kairos' spell, the memory of her last words to Hermes was one of the memories most seared into his soul. Her declaration of a brighter future would be a vague memory in Amon's dreams, a motivation between the indifferent states he labored and performed for. This wouldn't be the only memory made clear by the ascension to the Seat of Fandaniel though: Meteion's report and the truth of the Final Days would flood his mind as well.

After all his efforts to improve Allag were rendered pointless by Xande's revelations on death, this felt like a slap to the face. After his hard work to improve life, his Emperor's turn to nihilism was echoed by the universe itself. The whispers of some bubbly elezen with cheap enhacements were making him waste his life all along? Even if she is from a more distant better future, why couldn't he have it? Is he less deserving? Where is this hero when Allag needed her?

Regardless of the truth, Fandaniel now has eternity and a daunting judgement of life with more evidence than the other. He would forget the elezen while vying the possibilities to bring back the Final Days, up until the Ascian Convocation gathered to ponder her defeat of Lahabrea. She had none of her odd traits from the memory, and the suffering she's to survive could be the Ascians' attempt to stop her. Bidding his time, Fandaniel saw his hypothesis be proved correct: the causes she supported brought harmony and freedom to so many lands, and she brought down the three unsundered Ascians in order to protect these efforts. A Bringer of Light and Hope opened the door for him to set the End in motion: It was only fitting to the truth of the Universe.

This benefited him, yet he felt an intense bitterness seeing her come back from transmogrification. A seeming clone of herself and a party of true comrades ventured to save her from Light's corruption, while Noah and the other would have ditched him like every poor fool on their operating tables. He too had tried to help everyone, and this is how he ends? Seeing this memory live and fare much better than he did? Why did does she get to succeed where he failed?

For a scientist like Amon, this merits study. He would peruse any trails of information on her persona on public records. Trails of her greener days were not an interesting picture, but when he acquired Asahi's body an intriguing hint slotted in his mind: the Ragger Ghost and Witch ghost murders in Doma. If the Yotsuyu phantom seen by victims and survivors was the woman herself, someone had to be the green-wrapped murderer described with elezen-like proportions he would recognize anywhere. Coincidentaly, a report on the death of the whole Corpse Brigade long ago reported the Warrior of Light to be in the area, or Nemi as he should call her. The battered state of the bodies matched the modus operandi to a degree non-scientists wouldn't catch. If he were to confront her with the facts, would she match Asahi's gut instincts' perceptions?

But before that, he got the Crown Prince as an ally and inquired to him about Nemi... which proved to be a waste. All aside from battle sounded nothing like his research at all; Introducing himself to Nemi at the Royal Menagerie solidified that further. He was glad to not cause that sort of obsession on the Crown prince.

Locating her apartment, he opted for the civil way of teleporting through the main entrance. A Projection Module tried to encase him but he knew its unlocking code from memory. Waltzing in, he bowed and attempted to greet her as a fellow person in a neutral space, claiming the loss of the Paglth'an towers has caused him to deliver bad and good news to her before ducking a teapot to the face. "Oh, this is how you treat your visits?"

"You're just trying to be a coward and poison me or something. Get out before I bite your throat! You made very clear you didn't want to talk," the pineapple lashed out, holding a tray like a weapon.

"Oh, then you entertained Emet before grabbing the heart out of his chest? How vicious!"

"NO! I hate that guy! Where are you even getting your intel from? Zenos?" she paused and grimaced. "...This is not for material for Zenos to masturbate over, is it? I didn't cross you for that kind of creep."

Fandaniel blinked with a stupefied frozen grin. "What."

"Oh, then you don't know of the virgin who confessed to coming in his pants without knowing that's what he was saying at the cusp of the Revolution. Well, sorry to burst your bubble! That's the kind of pampered shit you've allied yourself with."

Cringing and melting over a Rattan sofa, Fandaniel sighed heavily. "Oh, I shouldn't be encoumbered by my Lord's banal proclivities, but that is even beyond pathetic. I resent this mental image."

He heard her steps tentatively close on the chair in front of the window. "Well, I can't think of other connections if you're not here to kill me."

Fandaniel flipped over the sofa and laid on it, taking and biting the head off a candy Tanuki from the table. "My lord said I shall not harm you no matter what, for you are his prey alone."

Nemi now stood by the chair warily, eyebrows lightly scrunched. "That really was a reassuring thing to say. If you dislike him so much, why even bother with him?"

Fandaniel brushed his face like a wet towel. "His fixation seemed to chalk on pride to my understanding, and his passive agreement put the meat in my plans I wouldn't find elsewhere. If you wanted to strike the Warrior of Light down, wouldn't a whole army of a proud empire be the best knife on your palm?"

Nemi tilted her face with doubt, "If you could more easily get them in line to be tempered, sure. What primal does Garlemald even have by the way?"

Biting the last candy bit, Fandaniel tapped his lips with one finger. "Tsk tsk. We're not at that act yet!"

Nemi just sighed. "Why am I even talking to you?"

Fandaniel stretched his arms and turned to sit proper. "Cause you're actually nice it seems! Extremely so. Even a man of my caliber finds it easy to talk to you."

Scoffing, Nemi slapped a hand reaching for coffee biscuits. "Bullshit. You're just trying to find an easier way to kill me."

Feigning offense, he kissed his hand knuckles. "Not quite. I do find some interesting oddities in people. And you know what's fun about you?" He waved with a flourish, leaning his elbows on the table and propping his chin with a familiar mocking grin. "Your whereabouts during the serial murders reports before Tsukuyomi was summoned."

Nemi visibly stilled, blinking carefully into a confused squint. "Are you trying to imitate Asahi just to rile me up?"

"So he did suspect you of involvement at the time," he smirked, spinning upwards in levitation, "This body doesn't lie in its sense of apprehension... He heard rumours on Jifuya's death, one moved from the enclave after a conflict of interest. Another had seen you and Yugiri near him in the One River." He stopped spinning in a half lay position, resting his face on his hand.

Nemi stepped back, frowning with confusion. "Uh, yes? Hien asked me to accompany her on questioning. Are you really this desperate to make up a narrative?"

"No little hisser, I'm on the trail of a motive. Nothing indicated any motivation to dislike that pig except for the real reason of his transfer, which a select few including you know... well, at least before his corpse had it mangled all over his skin."

Nemi frowned at the new moniker, staring with more disbelief. "Any of his victims could have recognized his face, and I doubt they'd factor in your grand plans for you to care so much about it."

"Oh please, don't get so boring my darling host! You can't help but be curious too if you're innocent, hm?" He floated backwards, drawing cookies cutting into familiar shapes near his fingers. "It can't be another pimp since you, Hien, Yugiri, Gosetsu and Alphinaud isolated in the Doman Enclave mansion to keep dear Tsuyu a secret. Even if she left at night to procure a contact, who would want to help the Wicked Witch of Doma?" He let the cookies drop, and waved a shape of dark aether as described: "Not to mention the height, slenderness and shape of the head rags. Why extend so much if not to cover long ears no native possess? I'm quite intimate with elezen anatomy you see."

Nemi groaned disgusted, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Like glamours don't exist to look more intimidating. You're still grasping on air. Are you sure that twink isn't clouding your mind?"

Suddenly lurching front, Fandaniel backtracked Nemi against the window. "No my dear, he didn't know you wield a claymore! He could see your viciousness, but he had no scientist mind to match the wounds with the right tool, which I see you use plenty." With a giggle, he whispered in her ear, savoring how cold her blood ran. "Tell me, is that why you killed the Corpse Brigade too? I know you were nearby, and the size of bone crushing matches no weapon of the regular Ul'dahn but a claymore fits perfect." Standing back on the ground, he tilted right with interlocked hands. "Now hero, what is your alibi?"

After too massive breathe-ins, Nemi closed her eyes and sighed. "If you know that much, I have no reason to hide it." In the window behind her, clouds unveiled the moon. Her gaze half-lids with a gold eye, voice distorted with another as she towers over him. "Yes, I am the Ragger Ghost. Happy with your circumstantial evidence a dead face can't deliver?"

"Haha, nothing!" He cackled bending over. "Just with the sheer satisfaction the Warrior of Light is not as pure and inspiring as everyone says she is! You must be so proud of yourself-"

Clawed fingers gripped his collar and tossed his shoulder to crash with wood, hissing as tomes tumbled behind him. He scrambled to look up as she advanced slowly, huffing and chuckling. "My, what stoic brutality! Nothing like that silly teacup show you were pulling earlier. But there is no need to put a mask around me." He pointed with his toe "What are you covering with the possessed look? That you enjoy the rush of guts and gore?"

Nemi's widened to incredulous staring, the spell seemingly broken.

"Is it not?" He continued crossing over his legs. "But then why bother with so brutal torture? Some Allagans would like you-"

"Did you read the report files or not?!" She screamed, voice breaking. "Then you would know what all of them did in common. I don't kill cause I just want to!"

The naked honesty froze Fandaniel, but he leaned on his elbow quickly to recover his cool. "Then why do you cover your steps? Any of those fools know you could crush them under your foot."

She grabbed her temple, clearly trying not to tear up. "You wouldn't understand. You clearly don't want to live with everyone else. I do," she sighed with an empty gaze, "and I know I'll never be truly understood."

Fandaniel swallowed dry. The air was getting too thick for his wind-void cavernous chest. He should leave before another organ in him jolts to this mirror of himself. "My, getting off the pedestal would surely do you good, Hero-"

"DID YOU READ THE REPORTS OR NOT? LEAVE."

"As you wish, hero." He spoke unamused before teleporting away, heart hammering in his chest. He knew this would strike a risky chord, but the reciprocity caused by her naked emotion and pain threw him in a whirlwind of confusion. Did anyone in Allag or the Ascians suffer so plainly and open to the eye? He could only remember his own tears, no one else's.

He hadn't thought in so long to want to say he understood more than she would know. He shouldn't feel this now.

Later in the Tower of Zot, Fandaniel found himself deigning the truth of his persona to measure the Hero's truth of her words. Would she catch on how similar they are? Disappointingly, she just asked if Allag's hubris was really for the rest of the world to suffer, finding the acceleration for one necromancy blunder excessive.

"Yet again, my words appear to be lost on you." He lowered his eyes, "I utterly despise watching you and your companions' gestures of hopefulness and solemnity when all you know is bound to ruin. What is it that you hope to achieve in the end? Covering your ears and digging your head deep into denial?" He scoffed rounding the platform around her, stopping for a deep breath. "Emperor Xande revealed to me an absolute truth of the Stars, of life itself, and even now it remains uncontested. I hoped for your comprehension given your tendency for the unconventional realities of life, but conformity is your choice in the end. This was meaningless..."

The hero frowned and looked away fist on her chin. "You are mad cause we're positive and persistent, while your world fell into disrepair despite your efforts?" She looked at him with a softness in her frown he despised. "You know the troubles of the present took a long time to resolve, right? It was not one singular event or the other. You are just one man," she sighed. "What you said at my apartment and this... What were you thinking or, expecting from me? No one's truly noble."

The lack of contempt or condescension, it was truly infuriating. Fandaniel just rose his chin with disgust after all that. "What did I just warn you to not do? It's like you listened to nothing I graced you with. Very well, I shall focus only on your destruction."

"But you didn't answer my question!"

No matter. She couldn't know of a distant past lest he might want to destroy it, which would supplant his very existence from the root. But toying with her resolve should not be beyond the order of time. Maybe he is the executioner of the trials she comes to survive and endure? Aulus' technology had inspired him a way to ensure the Tower of Babil's launch and play his role in cracking the hero's shell.

Except, he cracked more than he bargained for.

The hero almost tripped off that shining dog, holding her scythe with trembling hands as she watched the brand being destroyed. the mere sight of Zenos seemed to paralyze her, which is at odds with the actual experience that should have been a struggle. Did he overestimate her?

But as he silently walked to the precipice satisfied, he heard a dry cough of pain and aether zoom that ticked him too late to the hand now grabbing his shoulder.

"Hey."

He could only turn quickly and stare despectively, like he wasn't in great danger of not making it to the brand.

"Hey"

But she looked all but ready to bite. Her panting was slow, and her eyes struggled to stay open to the blows she gave to her possessed body on the snow. Did she not heal herself?

"Did you, did you really have to do that?"

He huffed undignified. "And who is grabbing my arm? A hero or a shaved dog? The brands' destruction is nothing to the trials you've already survived."

Her jaw gave away as her eyes widened, clawed fists shaking into erratic waving. "No! You don't think it's anything?! To let that, let him !" she exclaimed pointing at Zenos, "worm and squirm in the recesses of my mind?! And force me in corners of his? I don't understand how that would help you unleash the Final days!"

At least Fandaniel's confusion and mute realization seemed to calm her, wide eyes dropping to the floor with quietening limbs. "Oh, you, you did not mean to do that... ha... ha... hahahahahahhaHAHAHAHAHAA!!!" She pulled her bangs with her fists, completely useless as laughter madder and painful than his racked her frame. She hissed in a language he could not understand when Zenos bleeted about enjoying it, and yellow seemed to try to flash in eyes that grew more and more lost. This wouldn't do for the end of his act. He had to get her back on script.

But he wondered, could this culminate in total despair... like his dear emperor fell? Was this a spiritual death done at his hand?

"So Aulus' design had a flaw?" He spoke softly at first, touching her head until she brusquely stood back up and nearly tripped. "How unfortunate, I never intended for such a thing to transpire." Taking a step back to the edge of the chasm, he raised his arms with a wicked grin, "But you are still a hero, are you not? Will you wallow away as the villain claims his prize, or will you follow my lead until the end I wonder?" Stepping onto the precipice, he revels on the shock in her fully present eyes as her hand reached nothing. "Come, let us bring an end to our suffering."

Even with the frazzled look on her eyes, she fought fiercely and desperately. Truly, her candle could not be fizzled out by horrors he couldn't understand. As he saw her mistake dawn on her, he contemplated what he'd lost in his first life, all that he would pass on to the woman who thought her home truly safe and sound. Having been torn so violently, would the memory of her promise change? When it didn't, the dying primal frowned at her bitterly. No matter what happens... "You did your best." That bitterly passed his lips before nothingness.

Now he was floating with no desires, needs or full awareness... Such bliss. He could turn up and glance at the world wherever and whenever he desired, and shut it away in an instant. The tumultuous chaos remained distant to him, though the twist of the people themselves turning did make him frown. That's not how it was recorded to happen, but it made sense mechanically. The horror of it increased the effectiveness at which people perished....

But, their souls did not enter this realm of nothingness. Where did they go? What could they sense wherever they ended? And to make matters worse, The living had banded against the blasphemies extending their futile suffering. He almost wished to avert away, but Nemi's disappearance from the source puzzled him enough to keep his attention in many places. When she reemerged from his precious Crystal Tower, he could not look away. She went to the First... for what exactly? Far more puzzling that her sorry band descended into the Aetherial sea itself, which he couldn't let be so easy. It was time for this show to end!

...and it seemed it would be his show. Of course, of course his soul and real self alone couldn't stand a chance. But he did the most out of what he got, and he wouldn't have to watch the same tired struggle over and over across millennia... but then Nemi said the name of the lost little girl that was caught as the mechanism of the end, a name only existing in his dreams.

"How... how do you know that name?"

"Would you believe me if I told you the First's Crystal Tower comes from a future where time travel was harnessed? Elidibus' soul was still stuck inside and he had a vision of me and where to send me so... hey, I'm one of the reasons we're all here now, I guess, and I mean to make justice of the tragedy that started the Final Days. If you know Meteion, you probably remember what she is and Hermes' intentions, right?"

Amon could do nothing but laugh bitterly. He knew the woman in her dreams had to be Nemi, but for her to straight up say it means she promised to end inscrutable energy echoing the death of several lost worlds. She found the truth herself and, still refuses it? With no fight left in him, Amon disclosed the memory dreams that haunted him before his ascension, and the doubt that licked at the heels of his own resolve to end everything. With a last sigh , he looked at Nemi in the eyes and whispered. "There is just no other end in sight. I can't see another end in sight... how, how did you see differently knowing the root of the Final Days, and everything you have after your suffering being prone to fall to them? Where your words to Hermes true, or just a bluff to perish here and not alone?"

He detested the worry in her grimace, how it could not be discarded as cheap pity. "Amon, I really meant it. Not just Meteion's plight but Hermes' loneliness needed experiences and openness their time just didn't have, but I know and have lived it deeply. Even if the odds are the worst, what's the point of not trying still? That kid shouldn't be stuck in that cage, not even understanding all or any about the world she's hurting. I'm not abandoning anyone if I can find them! Besides, a classic fight against a big powerful entity isn't the worst thing that's happened to me if I'm being frank."

Amon didn't know if to laugh or cry. "Maybe the times of Allag just needed more bleeding to a fault people like you. At least you have no fear to waste your breath."

He only heard steps before his feet lost ground pulled by the scruffs (souls can be touched here?), but the green eyes punching his view were more pouty than anything. "Listen here you little clown: just cause you made a god explode doesn't mean you get to keep sniveling and looking down at me for persisting. Do you want to be open to more bright answers or not?" Putting him down, she fixed the necktie and dusted his pauldrons before crossing her arms. "That said, having a static thought cycle in your head must have been annoying. I'm sorry you had my voice in repeat against your will."

Amon scoffed under his mask. "You're smiling, but I concede you have the right to that sarcasm. But what import are my opinions to you?"

Nemi's mouth quirked up a little. Somehow, he hated her even less. "You did upend everyone's lives for your hypothesis, so I'm going to defeat you in your own camp," she leaned forth with a lopsided grin, "I'll prove you wrong by going to the end of the universe and getting Meteion out of there, proving your answer wrong. Then you'll have to think again and make a new, answer."

"Did you mean hypothesis?" yelled the black-robed m'iqote from afar.

"Y'sthola! I'm trying here!" she turned with a flustered and annoyed voice. To this he had to chuckle. To sound so normal after how utterly disturbed she wheezed before his death... at least she's sincere and consistent.

"Very well, I've heard enough of your prattle. All of you out there, you are proper scholars like the old age? I expect you to collect proper evidence if by some odd twist of luck she succeeds. I doubt she has the training to do so."

"Hey!"

And with this he dissolved his perceivable form, floating away from the coming god clash to collect his thoughts. Much as he did wish for a better truth for life deep inside, what would that make all of his actions? It mattered little to him as a dead person, but if life is worth the sorrow then many have been lost for... no, if he had not labored with what he knew best, they would not have a fighting chance if the Song of Oblivion got through Zordiak's fading presence eventually, and Garlemald would still be a thorn on the present world's side. It is another of Emet-Selch's vanaglorious constructions after all. And he?He as Fandaniel was part of the sorrow and misery inherent to life, and no one could fault him for playing his part.

Then why was he being summoned by the Traveler's stone?

He opened his eyes to vibrant blue skies, crossed by familiar stones and markings of his seals now broken. My, and with such little grace. The offending caller was not visible, which forced him to turn and see his Crystal Tower behind her. Ugh. What is her point?

"Did you think this would make for a nice gesture? You couldn't even call for me in the real face of my soul." He rose an eyebrow quizzically, feeling the lighter fabric of Fandaniel's cloak too well. Fitting for the mask he committed his actions in this life, he supposed. "Are you in the habit of rubbing your domination to every person you defeat?"

Nemi rolled her eyes with one hand on her hip. "I'm sorry? Did you want me to go through Sharlayan regulations to look through that whole blue sea? That'd be hopeless!"

"Tch, the fact you are alive and the skies are blue is enough of a statement of you proving your point. You hardly need me present to know your own victory."

"Well, that isn't all of it!" She leaned over, making him hiss missing his real height. "Your hypothesis is wrong now, so you have to make a new one right this moment, oh great scientist of Allag-"

"I vow, if you don't cease this weak copycat I'll haunt your life unfinished."

Nemi stepped back with hands raised. "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I really thought you were invested in the act if you had no one to impress unlike your Allag times."

He sighed deeply before looked at the summit of the tower, gleaming and colorful reflecting the sun. "Regardless, you shouldn't put so much stake in the words of the dead. If life is not pointless then, I have no answer and that's the end of my lines."

Nemi fisted her clawed hand under her chin. "Are you really this repulsed to attention? I just thought it'd be nice to hear a better answer is right, even if it's not quite defined. Would you really be happy if you were right?"

Amon sighed. "Truly, I admit to be at a loss after all this time... and I'm a poor referral with the life you know I have lived. I'm the worst, the worst individual of this star to formulate a new sentence of life," he shrugged waving to her. "You should know that, as the one who defeated despair."

"Whoa... that had no veneer of mockery. What is wrong?"

"Nothing, just returning your transparency in our first chat alone. No one in Allag would admit to their pain and isolation so openly, nor slap me with the impulse to speak with a similar truth."

For the first time in their conversations, Nemi's mouth dropped in realization and, turned away with a smaller voice. "What did people do if they were found and, hurt so deeply then?"

Amon took the chance to chuckle. "Swap your head for a dog in your sleep, and leave it at that."

She took a step back. "Y-you have to be kidding!"

For the first time in forever he laughed sincerely. Oh, modern humans. "Maybe that insufferable sincerity of yours would have served Allag better. My time wasn't really like that..."

Nemi opened her mouth when a chirp flew overhead, and a blue blur soared around Nemi's cape and shoulders. She brightened surprised and extended a hand as perch, letting the form settle and preen under her pets. Amon finally caught on her tail and the blue hue of her feathers, and he needed no more for tears to pool his dry eyes. Almost on its own, his hand approached shakily and froze when she poofed at the sight of him. Could she recognize his soul? What did Nemi tell her? "I..." I'm all that's left, I used his memories to make nothing better. I

Soft feathers pressed with the bunt of her head, chirping a song rocking his throats with sobs that almost rode the melody... His hand finally pet her, wrecked by the gentleness and softer chirps accepting hims as well. This might not be who he loved and lost himself, but knowing her hope and how it was dashed and forced out of her, much like he was robbed of a normal death... He kept petting in fervent silence as his form turned blue, not looking up until Nemi gasped and stared stunned back at him. Looking up he felt longer hair strands brush his sharper nose and his ears strain against the fabric. Oh, I'm wearing my face again? Then my face was not her design but, mine. My soul speaks my truth as I'm, finally seen.

"Thank you..." Was all he whispered as this temporal form fully faded, back to a rest filled with pure peace this time.

[jdtrashman]

Countdown To Dawntrail Week 3: Yotsuyu

Week 3 of @voidsentprinces' countdown to dawntrail series. About damn time I got around to Beloch

---

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee.

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skies of November turn gloomy.

Beloch Bluesail stood up and back from the corpse of his father, blood dripping from his still-clenched fist. For a while there was no sound but the creak of the wood as the seas wrapped against the walls of the great barque they rode aboard. The Maritime Maiden. The only home Beloch had ever known for 19 years.

The pirates had found him as a baby off the coast of Doma, the lone survivor of a shipwreck. The au ra's small, scaly blue body had been wrapped in a blue sail - hence the name - as a final, desperate act by his birth father to keep his son warm. Beloch was raised by the captain of the crew as his only son, and for 19 years, things were good. Or at least he thought they were.

The truth was, in the past year, there had been signs that the captain had been hiding things from him. More money had been coming in, whose source was unknown. Then, earlier tonight, Beloch had come to bid his father goodnight and heard...strange sounds coming from his quarters. The door was cracked open, from which the sound of strangled sobs and heavy breathing could be heard. Against all better judgement, Beloch inched closer to the door and peered inside.

The next thing he knew, he was standing over his father, dead. He slowly turned to the girl. No older than he was, clothes torn, body curled up and shaking with sobs, a single terrified eye gazing at him through long black hair. Twelve only knew what he looked like to her.

Beloch's mind began to race. How long had this sort of thing been happening? He slowly walked over to his fathe-to the captain's desk, and began rifling through the drawers. What he found chilled him to the bone. A while, turns out. A long, long while. For the past year and a half, this ship had taken up the business of smuggling people. With the captain clearly getting to enjoy some of the goods himself. This latest...shipment, was from a bunch of raiders who kidnapped half a village's worth of people. Nothing in the papers spoke of anyone else being bought, just this one. Which made things simpler.

Beloch made his way back over to the young woman. Gently, slowly, he crouched down on one knee and held out the hand that wasn't covered in blood. "Come with me," he said. "we need to get you off this ship."

With a load of iron ore, twenty-six thousand tons more

Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,

That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed,

When the gales of November came early

13 years later, Beloch found himself back in Doma. Last time he was here was the day before he burnt his life to the bottom of the sea. Now he was here to help set it free from Garlean occupation. Not quite what he had signed up for when he accepted Minfillia's job offer 2 years ago, but whatever.

"There she is," growled Gosetsu. Beloch peeked over Allie and Rhea to get a look at the "Witch of Doma". And when he saw her face, no longer twisted in fear, but now stretched into a contemptuous sneer as Garlean soldiers at her flank bullied the helpless villagers, his heart sank into his knotted-up stomach. His head felt light and woozy, and he almost fell over from the shock.

"Beloch?" asked Allie, placing a hand on his arm. "Yo, babe, you okay?" Rhea perked up at Allie's concern and joined her in checking on him. It was here that he finally noticed how hard he had been breathing.

"I-I uh, I just," he sputtered, trying to stay calm and quiet. Now everyone was looking at him. He never liked sharing his past, so burdened with shame he had been for the past decade. But Musosai's wisdom rang in his head: it was time to tell them. If not now, then when? "I...I know her."

The ship was the pride of the American side

Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin

As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most

With a crew and a captain well seasoned

Concluding some terms, with a couple of steel firms

When they left, fully loaded, for Cleveland

Then later that night, when the ship's bell rang out

Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

Later that night, Beloch did indeed tell them everything around the fire. Ophianne didn't look surprised, but she was clearly relieved at him finally getting this off his back. Q'ihnn remained stoic, unreadable, but relaxed. Maybe that was compassion, maybe not. It was hard to tell with him. Mitnu tried to remain stoic, but it was clear that she wasn't expecting it. The twins looked horrified, and Lyse looked pissed. Neither emotion seemed directed at him, though, which was a good sign.

Allie and Rhea, meanwhile, stayed close to him, even as he curled in on himself when the story reached its bloody end. The look in Allie's eyes...he had never seen her make that face before. It was like the girl she used to be had come out and put the beast away for just a moment. If this wasn't one of the most uncomfortable nights of his entire life, he'd commit the face to memory. And Rhea, his Starshine, just held his hand and kept her gaze firmly on him as he talked. He definitely did not deserve even one of these girls, so what'd a lunkhead like him do to get two at once?

"So you saved her?" Lyse asked with an edge to her voice. Understandable, given what Yotsuyu had turned into.

"Yes." he made no excuses. He was the reason these people were suffering, no covering that up.

Lyse crossed her arms and breathed outward, hard. "Good."

"Good?"

"Good. You saved a girl being brutalized, even though it cost you everything."

"You did the right thing, Beloch," Rhea chimed in softly.

"Yeah," Allie added. "what she did with her life ain't your bill to foot."

Beloch wanted to believe them. But something in his mind held onto the responsibility.

No, it had to be him that ended this.

Well the wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound

When the wave broke over the railing

And every man knew, as the captain did too

T'was the witch of November come stealin'

The plan was to assassinate Zenos and Yotsuyu both in one fell swoop. It would be done quickly, cleanly, under cover of night.

And according to Q'ihnn, it would be done without him.

"I get it, I do," Q'ihnn said with arms crossed. "But you're too close to this, too close to her. You and her meeting won't go well, and we're only going to get one shot at this."

"Golden boy, do not fuck me on this, I swear," Beloch growled down at the miqote.

"I'm sorry, Beloch, but you know I'm right on this." With that, Q'ihnn left to join up with Yugiri and Allie.

There was no way that he was convinced that that was going to keep him away, was there? He didn't even lock the door. Honestly, Beloch was disappointed more than anything else.

He waited until they were far enough ahead that they wouldn't notice a trail, and he found a hiding spot out of their sight.

And he waited.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait

When the gales of November came slashin'

When afternoon came, it was freezin' with rain

In the face of a hurricane westwind

By the time Beloch got there, the fighting was already well underway. Allie and Q'ihnn had Zenos handled - well, better handled than they did back in Ala Mhigo - while past them laid...her.

"Where is my brute?!" she demanded. "Honestly, of all the times."

"Yotsuyu." she stopped, and looked to her right, and found Beloch standing there. It took a moment, but recognition finally dawned on her, summoning a look in her eyes that lay somewhere between shock and rage.

"You..."

It began to rain.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck, sayin'

"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya."

At seven PM, a main hatchway caved in,

He said, "Fellas, it's been good to know ya."

"What are ya doin, Yotsuyu?" he asked. The rain picked up speed, great sheets of water blowing across the land. The clangs and booms of Allie and Q'ihnn's battle with the prince battled for dominance against the whoosh of the winds.

"What am I doing?!" she asked, growing angrier. "How dare you! How dare you ask me that!!!" from her kimono, she pulled a revolver and pointed it at him. Sadly, he drew his sword. "I am learning from the lessons you taught me! The lesson I learned the night a man tore my abuser off of me and beat him to death with his bare hands. The lesson I learned as that man proceeded to slaughter an entire ship's crew. The lesson I learned, watching that ship burn and sink from my dingy bound back for Doma."

"...alright, kid," he muttered, readying his blade. "What did I teach you that led to all this?"

"That the world only makes sense, when you FORCE IT TO!!!"

She fired.

The captain wired in, he had water comin' in

And the good ship and crew was in peril

His sword, and a bullet. A move Musosai taught him. A move he had pulled off a thousand times, requiring total focus and center of self. His focused eyes caught the bullet, his senses slowing time for accuracy, and he swung.

And the bullet shattered his blade, and struck into his chest.

And later that night, when his lights went outta sight

Came The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald!

His consciousness drifted in and out after that, only the loudest noises making it through the haze. He faintly remembered Allie screaming as he fell, the feeling of his body being moved, the sound of Yugiri screaming for a table to be cleared. After that, all went quiet.

Does anyone know where the love of god goes

When the waves turn the minutes to hours?

The searchers all say they'd have made whitefish bay

If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.

Allie and Rhea stayed by Beloch's side for the week that followed, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Occasionally he would wake up, but not look at them. Judging by his eyes whenever they opened, it was out of shame.

Rhea gently held Allie by the shoulders as she watched their lover sleep. "He'll be alright, darling," she said softly. "C'mon, you need to sleep."

"Not until he wakes up for good," she said. She took one of Rhea's hands in hers. Off to the side, Ophianne sat and quietly read. Somehow more certain than either of them that he would wake up any minute. "At least this time I'll be here to greet him when he wakes up."

They might have split up, or they might have capsized

They may have broke deep and took water

And all that remains, is the faces and names

Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

For a moment, Beloch is back in that horrible night, watching his life burn from a dingy, the girl he burnt it all for sailing away in her own boat, growing harder to see with each passing moment.

He looked down at his hands. Bathed in firelight, the blood practically glimmered. Or perhaps that was simply the tears?

The young Beloch's face fell into his bloody hands and sobbed loudly. But no one was there.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings

In the rooms of her ice-water mansion

Ole Michigan steams like a young man's dreams

The islands and bays are for sportsmen

And farther below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go, as the mariners all know

With the gales of November remembered

Beloch awoke at last. Everything hurt, but nowhere more than his heart. Whether it was because of the bullet wound, or having to admit that Q'ihnn was absolutely correct in his assessment.

He looked around, saw Allie, Rhea, and Ophianne, all asleep. That was what he had expected. What he didn't expect was all the others, and even a few Namai villagers, all sleeping as well. It was late at night, and no one, clearly, had expected him to awaken until morning. Yet they were all there anyway.

Beloch gazed up at the ceiling. That night, he had considered going with Yotsuyu. Make sure she got to shore safely. He had let her go alone, concluding that she didn't want to be around him. Maybe if he had insisted, things would've turned out differently. If he had just let go of his stubborn pride for one minute, these people wouldn't have suffered. Maybe.

He was too weak still to wake them, and Allie in particular looked like she was overdue for sleep. So, he just stared at his two favorite girls. kept his eyes firmly on them, to keep himself going. He needed to keep going.

He needed to settle things with Yotsuyu.

In a musty old hall, in Detroit they prayed

In the maritime sailor's cathedral

The church bell chimed, til it rang twenty-nine times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down,

Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee

Superior they said, never gives up her dead

When the gales of November come early...

[snow-system-wol]

With Yotsuyu's reappearance messing with him emotionally, S'ria finally finally realizes that he's not the only one in his head. (Perhaps it's time for a chat?)

Ao3

[typical contextual warnings for: some DID general things (dissociation, memory gaps, denial, panic attack symptoms) + implications of CSA ]

S'ria  had been… struggling with “Tsuyu”. Not in the ways some of the others were – she was most assuredly not lying, he just knew. She truly had been granted the luxury of forgetting it all, able to exist in the moment again without being afraid. How odd, but perhaps kind, to her after all of those years of distress.

That seemed to be what was causing S'ria to react, but it was in such a vague and confusing way that he wasn't sure what part of the concept was setting him off or even why.

He just had felt bad ever since becoming aware of this situation, bad in some visceral and uncomfortable way.

Normal circumstances didn't help, the frustration of that “peacemaking” ambassador besides, but that didn't account for much of how he felt. He was constantly exhausted, and everytime he thought about the situation it just made him feel nauseous. Nothing about interacting with Tsuyu was directly unpleasant, but he found himself with a throbbing headache whenever he looked at her – the sense that there was some thought just out of reach that he was unconsciously straining towards.

(Towards and away, both wanting the truth and intentionally closing his eyes to what hunches he already had.)

And with that distress came…something else odd. Often when S'ria was having a rough patch, his thoughts became difficult to deal with, to put it lightly. Simply prone to spirals and paranoia and going to dark places. So why, then, did these truly acute near-breakdowns bring out a far kinder inner voice instead? 

It wasn't something that was entirely new to him, there’d been times before that his mind had been so surprisingly gentle with him. He remembered it several times these last few years, as recently as his near-panic with the Buduga. S'ria supposed it was just a way to soothe himself – imagining a woman's calm voice saying supportive things to him, melodic and loving. He wished he could be better at it more often, it made him feel much better, but he didn't seem to be able to control it very well.

S'ria was almost afraid to ask others what their internal voice was like when they talked to themselves, because at times it felt like… like someone entirely separate from him.

Now more than ever, really. He feared slightly that they may be hallucinations, not his own thoughts, for how oddly foreign they felt now. It'd never been so consistent before.

Any time S'ria thought too hard about (Yotsuyu?Tsuyu?)’s life a shaky panic crawled up in him and he knew there was something, something that if he just focused a bit more – and then there she was again, as quick and anxious as a mother catching their child about to touch a hot stove. Shh, it's alright, breathe. You're safe. You don't have to think about that, Ria – focus on something less painful.

There was something wrong with that. That inner voice had only ever validated his feelings before, never discouraged him from pursuing a line of thought so insistently. Any other time he'd used this odd calming technique he'd understood how it was helping, felt like it could have been his doing, but this time he had no idea what the purpose of all this was. It was – it was not his thought, it didn't quite belong.

As much as it made him feel as though he was losing his mind, what he planned to do next only intensified that feeling.

“Who are you?”

He even said it out loud, alone as he was, and that truly felt the most idiotic part of it. The voice suddenly fell… conspicuously quiet.

That was somehow the worst response. If he was just talking to himself as a coping mechanism, surely he could've come up with some gentle answer to give himself? The silence felt intentional and autonomous, and S'ria repeated the question with more trepidation in his voice.

She spoke again then, her voice the least calm he'd ever heard it. “Are you certain that you are ready to think about this?”

S'ria realized that actually – no, he was not. He instead wandered back to where he could find anyone else to speak to that was real.

It was about a week of ignoring it entirely before the fear of not knowing overwhelmed him, surpassing the fear of the possible truth.

S'ria laid curled up in an unfamiliar-feeling bed. Hien had been providing this room for a number of days now, but it still just didn't feel right. Even the mattress was a completely different feeling than what he was used to in Eorzea, the way it shifted under him. He accepted that he wasn't likely to sleep soon, but still remained neatly wrapped into a circle with his eyes closed for a while longer in denial.

The odd thing that'd happened still loomed over him, with him not feeling quite alone in his head at random points over that week. There hadn't been any specific voices intruding in his thoughts or actions, just an uncanny feeling that was…familiar now that he noticed it, but also extremely eerie.

There, in the middle of the night, he faltered on ignoring the situation entirely. The room felt strange and dark and stifling, and this needed to be dealt with somewhere else. The chance of wandering out into the halls and running into someone else would just be more discomfort than it was worth, but luckily – there were other options than the door.

Stepping out from the dark room into gentle moonlight was already a relief, even if not quite enough. Still, despite the relative freedom of this tiny balcony, he could still feel the abyss of the bedroom looming right behind him.

Even a touch clumsy with fatigue, it was a simple matter for S'ria to hop onto the railing and pull himself up onto the overhanging section of roof. It was much easier to climb than anywhere in Limsa Lominsa, that was certain.

It took several minutes to find a perch that seemed a stable place to settle himself – facing the moonlight-speckled sea and taking in the familiar salt-tinged breeze… while staying well away from any other balconies or windows that belonged to occupied rooms.

It was odd. A number of times over that last week, thinking about this situation had led him to shaky breathing and quick heartbeats and pounding headaches – but now, he felt very still. He didn't feel alone during the climb, but it was more like he was sneaking up here with someone instead of being haunted by an unknown presence or the like. It felt like having a co-conspirator, or a friend even, not like an entity latched to his soul.

(At least Lyse had mentioned that the Scions already made sure very early on that he wasn't possessed because of his odd behavior and blackouts – else he would have truly worried about that.)

(But that was about another matter – whoever he was when he lost track of himself in battle. This unknown woman, she was seemingly unrelated to that problem.)

S'ria was fairly certain that he didn't have to speak, but it felt wrong not to. As alarming as it felt to speak into the empty night, the idea of just thinking back and forth with himself felt even worse, like it wouldn't really prove anything.

He still kept to barely above a whisper, though. This wasn't for anyone else to witness.

“Are you there?”

It was a simple question to ask, if he already knew the answer. He could feel that she was.

Yes. Are you…truly prepared this time?

It was an odd feeling. He could hear the cadence of her voice speaking, but he also understood the question immediately at the speed of thought, far faster than words could be sounded out. It was enough to make him hesitate.

“If I am having these thoughts faster than I am hearing you speak – am I…not just thinking of what you might say and then imagining a voice saying these things?”

She paused, and there was a near-tangible sense of concern conveyed from her. S'ria wondered – if she was real, had she planned out how she might expect this conversation to go? Was he immediately going off script?

This is not verbal conversation – I'm afraid doing otherwise is just not possible like this. This is how it has always been – no matter who I'm talking to.

S'ria quietly snorted. “No matter who – what, are you telling me there's more people in my head?”

Silence.

It was too much to process, S'ria's mind still trying to understand the existence of just this one person.

“Oh, no, talking to myself is one thing, but that is damned excessive.” An unpleasant feeling took root in his chest, a strange ache at the thought of how anyone else may perceive something like this. There was rarely kindness afforded to those that were very publicly…unwell. “What in the hells am I doing – I think going back to bed is a better idea than this.”

In his haste to push himself to his feet, S'ria's hand slipped on the rough edge of a tile, shallowly cutting his palm. He drew his hand back with a hiss – it wasn't much compared to his usual combat injuries, but it was an inconvenient place to be injured as a fighter.

Something a bit odd happened then. It was the sense of foreign muscle memory, of expecting to fumble and executing something strangely perfectly. His body felt slightly distant and detached, but his movements were perfectly clear and practiced. He watched the process almost passively, drawing his hand close to look at the injury with a gentle hum of concentration and soothing most of it away in a warm wash of light. 

That wasn't…that – S'ria didn't know how to do that. But it felt so natural for his body to perform the action, as if it'd done it hundreds of times before, despite never being successful when he tried to use magic.

He quietly sat back down on the roof.

Might we continue our conversation?

S'ria nodded, still bewildered at the feeling of channeling aether so competently. Eventually, he got his head a bit clearer.

“Who are you, then – to me? If not possession…? Why are you in my head?”

Forgive me for answering your question with another question – and for asking something I already know the answer to. What is the first thing you remember?

S'ria tilted his head, trying to sort out the details. “A few flashes of things and then Jacke helping me get used to the city. Nothing before then.”

Yes. The memories of the time before that do still exist, but kept…safe. How do I put this gently? You were young and needed distance between yourself and your life, until eventually you simply slept while your mind allowed someone else to handle it, creating someone new entirely. And then, next, making someone to help that person with their burden.

There was a sense of a wry smile, suggesting exactly which of those she may be.

And then it kept doing that, whatever made most internal sense at the time. Those parts still remain in your mind, their own people with their own memories and experiences.

S'ria frowned. “Couldn't I just have all of those memories back and have my head be my own?”

She winced, a detail S'ria somehow knew despite the lack of visual.

I do not mean this unkindly – but if you were emotionally prepared for that, it likely would not still be a complete blank. Your mind is only trying to stay safe.

He couldn't decide if that sentiment was sweet or patronizing. He tapped his fingers in a pattern on the roof, the recently healed skin still tingling strangely.

“So…if there's you, how many are there? Why are you the only one who talks to me like this?”

Why indeed. Different levels of disconnect with you, I suppose – I don't believe Fray and you can communicate at all, the way you don't retain any of their new memories... leaving you with missing time.

“Any of their…”. S'ria's eyes narrowed. “Wait, my little ’combat episodes’ that have had everyone so concerned really were just someone else entirely?! Why?”

Her voice remained gentle despite S'ria's outburst, fond even.

In the beginning, you didn't think yourself strong enough to slay Primals, so they took care of it until you gained confidence. Recently? They do have a bit of a hard time staying away when it comes to the Garlean military.

“Zenos. They wanted another try against him.”

There was no question, but she made a confirming noise all the same.

“And I don't even get a say in the matter? They can take over from me, just like that?”

She was quiet for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually she offered, Your writing is good enough now that you could leave a note asking Fray about that, see if they leave a response for you?

S'ria buried his face in his hands in response. “Oh gods, this entire situation beggars belief. Why not indulge it a little further?” He lifted his head and shook it lightly. “You never answered my question about how many.”

Hm… five, not including yourself. Two teenagers, one young child, Fray, and myself. She paused. I do have a name, by the way – Menphina. She sounded amused at worst, but S'ria still cringed at the hypothetical misstep of not having asked.

“Okay. Five.” He sighed shakily and fixed his eyes on the horizon, where the bright path of the moon on the water faded into the sky. “Tell me about the others.”

Menphina felt…pleasantly surprised, perhaps. S'ria wondered if she knew he was getting these flashes of emotion, if that was another form of communication – or if it was an accident. He wondered if it was mutual, if she could feel his emotions. Gods, he was trying so hard to accept this conversation without panicking.

I won't give you too many details when you are already getting overwhelmed, but – yes, of course.

(Ah, so she did know how he felt. Good to know.)

Fray and myself, I believe you have a decent sense of, for the moment. The youngest… he's very much a snapshot of you a bit over two decades ago and shares your name. He is distant for long periods of time, but – there are most definitely things that have brought him forward at times.

S'ria brought his knees up to rest his chin on them. “And I suppose I'd be acting like a young child to any who saw me? That's…disconcerting.”

Perhaps. It can be more subtle than that – maybe a thought that feels like it wasn't yours or a strange panic that you don't understand the cause of.

S'ria did not need to think long to start listing many examples of him emotionally reacting in ways that seemed entirely inexplicable given his own memories.

“What does that one remember of when I was younger?”

Everything. Menphina sounded oddly hoarse for a moment.

S'ria thought it interesting, given the lack of a throat to make that necessary. Dwelling on her answer itself was more uncomfortable – it was hard to separate terror from jealousy and he abandoned any attempt to do so.

“And the teenagers?”

Both very young teens, only a bit over their first decade. S'chaim – he was formed not all that long ago. Your mind still knows how to do that, after all.

S'ria tilted his head a bit at that, but chose not to question it for the moment. It was a bit of an odd and concerning prospect.

He's a bit morose, but normal for his age. He's rarely active and doesn't have control over your actions – I wouldn't worry about him. The other, her name is Rose. She…hm. How to…

Menphina's hand wringing over how to explain it to S'ria was rendered somewhat moot by the flickers of her thoughts that were so loud that S'ria couldn't help but catch bits of them. The anger dug into him immediately, ears flattened and teeth bared in a snarl.

“Tell me that I misunderstood that.” She conspicuously avoided saying anything. “Tell me that the incident I am still embarrassed and confused about to this day wasn't this mystery Rose person pushing me into propositioning Thancred – who was rightfully and thankfully concerned enough to refuse before anything got too out of hand.”

Menphina stammered, completely off balance, for several moments.

I am sorry, you are right to be upset, but she wasn't – she didn't mean any harm, it was the best way she could think of to distract him from his grief. She only wanted to help .

“And what about me? I felt horrible about just kissing him for a few minutes, could you imagine if he'd let things go further?! Why would she…” S'ria froze. “I thought you said she was on the young side of being a teenager.”

I…yes.

“Why would having sex with him be her first idea to help?” S'ria's breath caught in his throat. “W-why… why would she be like that.” He shook his head, feeling his pulse rattle his skull. “Menphina, I – my head hurts.”

She immediately began radiating an anxiety that not even her attempt to sound calm could cover up.

Do not worry about that, just know that Thancred was clear enough with her that she'll never try that again with him.

It was as if she hadn't spoken, for all that S'ria reacted. Instead he wrapped his arms more tightly around his legs, his breathing barely under control. “What happened to her – what happened?”

Menphina sounded well and truly panicked.

Please do not try so hard to remember, it is not safe for you – Ria, let this go –

–

–

–S'ria's first thought was that he felt uncomfortably disoriented.

He was sitting in his bed, still fully dark outside. His hands stung as though he'd made his way back down to his balcony clumsily and nearly slipping with his hand holds, without his practiced ease. That was fair enough – he didn't actually remember getting back down and going inside, so he must've been pretty out of it. The terrible headache lingering in the back of his skull probably had something to do with that dull haziness.

Then enough memory filtered back in to put the pieces back together. The realization that someone – Menphina or another – had all but shoved him out of his own head made him briefly want to put a hole in his wall, apologizing to Hien tomorrow be damned.

(It wasn't Menphina, he could feel that somehow.  Actually, he wasn't so sure it'd even been intentional at all so much as instinctive of a thing, to make sure he stopped looking immediately.)

(It felt as though she was giving him space perhaps, but he didn't really have anything helpful to ask her anyway.)

When Menphina had all but begged him to stop digging, S'ria had thought the only barrier to understanding was an easily ignored ‘no trespassing sign’. Perhaps danger lay that way, but it was his own choice to proceed. After that though – it rather felt like an electrified fence, meant to stop him in his tracks the moment he made any real effort to pass it. Immediate penalty, enforced with or without conscious intervention perhaps.

Perhaps his much earlier comparison of her being like an anxious mother with a child intent on getting their hands near a hot stove was more apt than he'd realized. Do Not Touch indeed.

It was easy to hope that morning would reveal this all to be a dream, that this wasn't a new and complicated thing for him to navigate – but a few minor scrapes and a mostly healed-over cut suggested otherwise.

And besides, as he reminded himself – it was not new at all. It was quite an old problem, now that he was acknowledging it, but perhaps with an explanation now. A terrifying explanation, but one all the same.

S'ria was tired. Hopefully sleep would come more readily now.

[sezja]

88% for Nerise?

Battery Percentage OC Asks

88%. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?

For a while, she thinks it's what's happened to her - being taken from her friends and loved ones, leaving them to wonder what's become of her.

As she moves past that - and gets out of her own head, and begins to see the world she lives in now as real and not just a sort of "bad future" she needs to return to her own time to avoid - she begins to think the worst thing that can be done to a person is anything that sends them so deeply into grief that they're fundamentally changed as a person.

She sees it in Emet-Selch, she sees it in Hermes and Meteion, she even sees it in Yotsuyu by the end; she sees it in "Golbez." She sees it in Gaius, who at least channeled that grief into trying to become a better person. She sees it in Ardbert, and mourns for the adventurer he and his friends used to be. She sees it in Elidibus.

It's why she's trying as hard as she can to move on, before grief turns her into something she doesn't recognize.

[tsunael]

What does Tsuna think of Fordola?

describe your OC's feelings/relationship to an NPC.

Oh man, Fordola!! Good pull.

It's been a long time since I played Stormblood so I may not be able to answer this as objectively as I want to. Mostly because I don't know how I feel about Fordola, either.

Tsuna is pretty unempathetic to Garlean sympathizers due to her past. Her mother's death is a huge driving force for her righteous anger and want for retribution. While I think Stormblood would definitely be about her reconfronting her past, I think Tsuna would stubbornly hold onto her prejudices about them well until after 6.0.

I'm genuinely not sure yet if knowing Fordola's past would absolve her of any guilt in Tsuna's eyes. Fordola has killed in the name of the empire, and has attempted to kill Tsuna and her comrades, too...

In some ways, Tsuna feels the same for Fordola she does for Yotsuyu, but in Yotsuyu's case she never felt regret for what she did. Yotsuyu is Tsuna's foil in that way-- she's a woman Tsuna could have become if she gave into hatred. She's a kind of cautionary tale.

I think her stance on her would definitely soften come 6.0. I think Arenvald is a huge driving force in that change because he was one of Tsuna's first friends in the Scions, and if he trusts Fordola, then Tsuna would be hard-pressed to deny him. His crush on her is also very obvious, and very cute. It also seems like she takes care of him once he becomes disabled, so Tsuna is thankful he's being looked after if he ever were to need it.

TL;DR it's very complicated for her, and she doesn't have a totally positive opinion on her.

Fordola is a very complicated character. She's a such a rare case of an antagonist being shown to be able to be rehabilitated, to change, and to make up for wrongdoings. Clearly, she holds a lot of guilt for what she did, and she felt it was out of necessity.