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yzareenxiv · 4 years ago

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FFXIVWrite 2020 Prompt 30: Splinter

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwLvcaDMhU8&feature=share

CW: Torture, blood, sexual themes, violence

Slender, strong fingers pressed against each other, steepling under the King’s chin as he stared down at the lump of flesh that he rested his feet upon. With it’s handless arms and footless legs bound to the torso, it made an acceptable footrest. One that he could easily turn around at this body’s whim and use to make himself cum in any one of a number of orifices. It almost made him feel nostalgic, for the days when furniture such as this was littered about his home. The footrest was attractive, too, with it’s tanned skin.

The problem was, it wouldn’t stop weeping. Even with it’s tongue cut out, it wouldn’t stop making that damn noise. What was worse, insult upon injury, was that it hadn’t worked.

SHE hadn’t come. His Orchid with her heart apparently made of stone. He had been so damn meticulous- finding the whore sister in the vastness of Garlemald, ingratiating himself with the Empire, spreading information and gil and ale and other pleasantries, taking the girl, then slowly, carefully, weaving the wires that should have wrapped around his Orchid’s very being and brought her swiftly to his arms.

What had gone wrong? What was he not accounting for? WHY HADN’T SHE COME?!

He heard the shriek of pain before realizing that he’d viciously kicked the side of the footrest. The sound grated on him, it wasn’t the lovely screams that Y’zareen (dare he call her Zareen, even in his mind?) would give him. This voice was harsh, breaking every time it went high-pitched, it was all...just…wrong. He kicked the footrest again, knocking it over on the side, then rose to his full height and glowered down at it. A kick at the head, that would shut it up.

One kick became five, became ten, became a madness filled with hatred-fueled stomping and kicking and beating until splinters of bone cut open his hands and his immaculate attire was soaked in sweat and blood. Still, the thing breathed. It didn’t scream, but it breathed, bubbling breaths full of foam and phlegm and all the disgusting evidence of life. His body was aroused, so hard his pants were uncomfortable and he had to adjust himself to find some relief. Somewhere in the madness, he had cum, and the Crimson King found himself feeling utter revulsion for the physical form he was bound to.

Sweeping his hair back out of his eyes, leaving a streak of gore in the dark strands, he stood up and tugged at the dripping sleeves of the once-white shirt. He’d played this game for long enough. It was time to try something different. If Y’zareen was going to play the cold-hearted bitch and reject the ties of her own blood, then it was time to tug at the ties that he knew bound her. It was a shame her husband was dead, that would have made it so much easier- but there were others. Her Pack. Her ‘Family’. A dozen or so people that she trusted, that she loved. It was a risk- they had taken down one of his creations already, and had plenty of experience fighting against voidkin. Still, he had connections now. Connections they wouldn’t expect.

The question was, who first?

As he mused, the bleeding, dying woman that had once been a Jaguar miqo’te, the last living sister of Y’zareen, the last living daughter of Serhan, breathed her final breath.

The Crimson King stormed out of the room, snapping sharply at the guards that stood at either side of the bedroom door. “We’re leaving.”

“Yes, milord.” came the reply. One of them glanced into the room, moving just his eyes, and felt his gorge rise. Perhaps that is what gave him the courage to ask a question. “What about the… her, milord?”

“That?” The King flicked bloody hair out of his eyes with an insolent gesture and shrugged. “Why should I care? It’s just a broken piece of furniture.” He turned on his heel but something...something tugged at his senses.

Something wasn’t right.

Walking back into the doorway of the room, he concentrated so he could see the flow of aether. The body on the floor still glowed and as he watched, the glow faded, and faded, and -there.

Oh….now that was curious.

The Crimson King, thoughtful now, turned and headed for the bath, leaving his two men confused and green around the gills as they tried to decide which of them would deal with the mess in the room.

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

Shirogane

A gemstone, slightly flawed, set in a golden bracer, made a nearly inaudible crack as a small splinter flaked away. The nearly invisible hairline fracture that marred it’s surface widened minutely, new fractures spreading across the surface.

Aether, pulsing through a woman with every heartbeat, slowly began to bleed from the fracture, as the dam that had been crafted by faith and prayers and crystals in a place that no longer existed splintered and began, slowly, to dissipate.

A voice, sad and soft, whispered in her dreams.

“What happens to a god when it is forgotten?”

Zareen woke up screaming.

#ffxivwrite 2020 #ffxivwrite #cw: torture #cw: blood #y'zareen serhan #stories #the crimson king #shits happening yall #hold on to your butts

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talesfromthegameff14 · 5 years ago

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Truth is a Blade

[Warnings: Mentions violence, nothing graphic]

The door closed behind me, leaving the warmth of the sun dappled couch and the pervasive scent of flowers and spice behind. It was colder out here, or at least I assumed it was as I felt the gooseflesh rise up along my arms. My thoughts occupied all of my awareness, in particularly Arha’s words over and over.

“...sometimes you're really hypocritical...”

“Many people are loose-lipped... Saying things they don't mean, in the spur of the moment...”

"Always... been the one sent to die...?"

"But you still feel like you're the one sent off to die?"

"I wouldn't send you out to die."

youtube

It’s been a part of my life for so long I’d forgotten how deep that truth went, how much blood was spilt along that sharpened fact. It was like a piece of shrapnel left in a wound, sitting, festering, waiting for the impetus to shift and break open flesh, spilling infection into veins, tainting blood and body with the unseen disease that it’s carried for so long.

Her words were the lance and I was the one to suffer for it. I didn’t blame her, she spoke a Truth I needed to hear. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ready. Truth doesn’t care, it simply exists waiting to be acknowledged and learned. I could see it for what it was, could feel it in my bones, but I quaked from it. I wanted to run, needed to try and outrace what was coming, but? That would be to deny the truth and I owed my sister too much to run from what she said.

Azim’s damned eye above I wanted to anyway. ��However, there was no outrunning truth. Just like there was no outrunning the nothingness that was hard on it’s heels. Easier to forget, let that fog take it and have it be gone. I, couldn’t. Not now, I didn’t have the time to fall.

The harsh laugh that escaped my lips startled me enough that I turned my attention to what was about me instead of within. Still Ul’dah, quiet and cool with the promise of Starlight in the coming weeks. This wasn’t safe. Home would be safe, but I wouldn’t be alone. No, somewhere else.

Aether flowed and brought me elsewhere, back to the abandoned Ilho on the Steppes near the caves where it all started. I could see the Dawn Throne from here, seeming to float above the grasslands in all of Azim’s splendor. It was from his lips that I first heard it, the laughing and jeering as the other hunters commiserated with him over his worthless son.

“Can’t even die properly when he’s sent out to do so, keeps limping back to the tribe as the sun comes down.”

“Maybe he’ll grow into his strength?”

“Hah! Better to give him to the Buduga. At least there he’d be of some use warming bedrolls.”

Raucous, derisive laughter drowned out whatever came next. I remember running before I could hear more, back away from the tribe so I could lick my wounds alone, in the dark.

That was the first time I heard it, but it wasn’t the one that cut the deepest. No, she was the first to do it, sending me to the mines with an untended wound and allowing no one to help me. I only survived because someone dared to find a way around her orders, teaching me how to tend to my own wound without healing me herself. By the time my feet trod upon Doman land I almost expected it. By the time it did come? I didn’t just expect it, I felt like I deserved it. I was xaela after all, savage to the core. Hadn’t I proved it in the blood of those I was supposed to serve? Elder Ikue made it clear to me that all I was belonged to her and in turn to Doma. I was a weapon to be used and nothing more.

I clearly remembered each time I was sent out, the surprise in the Elder’s eyes that I came back battered but alive grew less and less each time I did so. Soon enough it was myself and four others that were called to do the impossible. I hated all of them, but I trusted them with my life. We knew each other's flaws and strengths better than our own, when to come together to fight and when to scatter to the winds to survive. We were all so different except in one way, we’d all been marked to die. Marked, yet refused to do so.

But now? Now I have a family. I cut and can be cut and bleed. I am more than a weapon now. Was, was I more than that then? Was that all a lie?

I’ve felt what it’s like to want to die, want it enough to actually go through with the act. I left that behind over a decade now. By the time I was healed enough to be the Elder’s weapon I realized I wanted to live despite how she sent me out to do the impossible. It was as I told C’arha, I survived because I wanted to.

"I'm glad you did."

“Me too, Khti, me too.”

I was surprised by my voice, the harsh croak breaking the silence as if I’d been screaming or crying. That’s when I felt the wetness under my fingertips on my cheeks and noticed the sun setting off to the west behind me. When did that happen? How long had I been standing here caught up in the past? Hours, it had to be hours. It couldn’t have been longer than that, could it? No, hours. I was only thirsty and not overly so. If it had been longer it would be worse, I knew that too well. Still, it was dangerous to lose you’re sense of self here, I should go home.

Yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the shadowy force that was the Dawn Throne. Even in the dark you could still see it from up on high in the western mountains. I knew he was there, saying the end of the day prayers to Azim, thanking him for another day. I didn’t want him to have another day. I could feel the rage try to shake loose at that thought, it would be so easy to give into it. Another savage giving into baser instincts that were so terribly reviled, considered uncivilized, beneath those that prided themselves on being better than that. It’s the thing that chased me in Doma, and still does. Horns and tail and scales marking me as less and more. Even now, despite the tournament I won being acknowledged and blessed by the Temple Guardian, some whisper about me being not good enough.

Will I ever be? Can I ever be more than a weapon sent to my death for Doma? What more can they want from me to prove my loyalty? They don’t even know of my mistake, anyone who knows that is dead, soon to be dead, or I know that they will hold the secret to their grave.

They would never know, wouldn’t care what I did out in the steppes. But, I’d know, I still felt regret over Odtgerel even though it needed to be done. Some would call it justice, it kept her from hurting others. I knew in my heart what it was though, simple vengeance, a blood spilling to try and find some peace from her words that still stung and taunted every time I made a mistake.

I, I didn’t see my family as savages even if so many in Doma and elsewhere would call them that. Yet, I still tried to hold myself to that elusive standard set by hyur civilizations everywhere. I had to be better than where I came from, better than others that wear the same horns and scales that I do.

“...sometimes you're really hypocritical...”

But, is it khti? Is it hypocritical to want to be better? To improve yourself? But, is this something that has to be improved? It was beaten into my body and mind that I would always have to be better than those around me to get anywhere. If I wanted to lead I needed to be more disciplined, be faster and stronger, be more skilled, do everything I could to inspire confidence in those around me so they would see the man first instead of the horns and scales.

I’ve always wanted so much, so much that I gave up on long ago. Now I almost have it all, almost. I have family, I have a place I belong, I have friends and loved ones that see the man and not the scales and horns. Yet, I still want more. I thought I could find it in Eorzea, but they follow Zareen despite... all of it. For how much longer it’s impossible to say, but I can’t take it from her. It would break her and as much as I want what she has I won’t do that again.

Here? Doma? I could find it in both places, I think. Here, the ones that made me would haunt me. Constant weight and comparison despite how little each of them gave me past the rutting where I was conceived. Doma, too many would still see the savage, if two decades hasn’t changed it then nothing will. Though House Sakanoue, that would be worthy. I trust her, that.. That could work. At least I wouldn’t see his shadow every sunset and I’d still have the sky.

There were no easy answers anymore, I knew that. That was one thing about being a weapon, it was simple then. Eat, slip, kill, survive, heal, sleep, go to the next. I won’t ever tell anyone, but I do miss it sometimes. Not often, but times like this? I miss it. [ C’arha belongs to @ala-mhinyan Zareen belongs to @yzareenxiv House Sakanoue belongs to @vibrantstillness ]

#first person weirdness #i never write this way but i got a wild hair #been sitting too long just posting this fucker and calling it done #half edited and who cares #okay i care a little but i'll never post it otherwise #ayanga uyagir #also Khenbish #OC stories #tenses are wonky but i blame first person madness

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eyespywithmyoneeyegtfo · 6 years ago

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The Last Hunt

This story is a possibility. It is not a story of what will be, merely a story of what could be.

The old man dozed in his chair on the back porch of his house.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the pleasant weather combined with the comfortable cacophony of children playing about in the water relaxed him to the point of drowsiness. Were he capable of more than just nodding off comfortably in his chair at the moment, he might grump about how even as little as five years ago he would have been eagerly joining in their play. But such was life, and such was the harsh mistresses that were Time and Age.

At eight-and-sixty, Arden Tide had surpassed his own life expectancy by a good three decades. Many of the people he’d called friend had preceded him into whatever came after, precious few still lived, and they rarely visited anymore- mostly due to their own infirmities in dealing with their dotage. It didn't bother him. They still communicated by pearl when the mood struck them. He knew everyone had their hands full these days.

“Tell us a story, Gran’papa Tide!”

The abruptness woke him with a start, and the old man cursed up a storm that had the dozen miqo’te children that had scampered up to the porch giggling in amusement. Arden couldn’t help but curl his lips into a wry smile.

“Come on now, children,” came a voice from behind him as the mesh-screen door opened and out came a miqo’te woman- lovely, statuesque, far taller than a normal miqo’te, standing at just a shade over six fulms in height, with jet black hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of chocolate. “You leave yoah Gran’papa to rest, don’t botha him none!” she said in an admonishing tone of voice.

Arden couldn’t help but chuckle indulgently as the cubs before him looked abashed. “It’s fine, Arha,” he said at length, shifting in his seat. “Nap time was almost over anyway,” he deadpanned. “What story do you li’l troublemakers wanna hear this time, eh?”

“The one about the creepy house!”

“Unka Dunrai’s battle in Bahdam’s Mettle!”

“The great morbol hunt!”

“Gran’mama Zareen’s last hunt!”

All became silent at this last one. That story was a favorite, and it showed as many young cubs’ heads all rapidly nodded in a rare show of solidarity. Gran’mama Zareen, the last of the Jaguar Tribe, and also Mother of the Jaguar Tribe. A legend. A myth that had lived and breathed, whose memory lived on in the Shroud, where the new Jaguar made their home.

She, the love of his life.

Everything that this iteration of the Jaguar was they owed to Y’zareen Serhan. all of the stories, all of the laws that the Jaguar followed had been set down by her, at first so that the Jaguar would not be forgotten… but then so that her cubs- their cubs, her and Arden’s- would have something to go by, a blueprint to follow.

Y’arha was the eldest of them, the mistress of the hunt, the teacher, the mother either in fact or in spirit to a whole generation. And it was her hand which came to rest on Arden’s left shoulder. Another warm sensation came to rest on his right- another hand, this one belonging to their youngest, Y’sarang, the one who most closely resembled her mother- the same build, the same height, the same color eyes, the same color hair, the same facial features and sometimes even the same expressions. She, too, was a huntress and a teacher. And a Sin-Eater, like their mother had been. But unlike their mother, she had not been shunned for her duty. The new Jaguar learned from the mistakes of the past, after all, and she was honored and revered for her sacrifice like Y’zareen should have been.

Y’ravin, their son and middle cub- who like his elder sister inherited his unusually large size, his hair and his eyes from his father- carried his own young cub on his shoulders, grinning as he approached the gathering. He’d never shown interest in becoming a leader, or challenging for the position of Nunh, but he supported his family in all things- in his case, along with Arden’s sister Ravija’s children, he kept the family business, the Aldenard Protection Agency, alive and well decades after its inception. “Hah, they’re all so quiet. Must be tellin’ that story again, eh, Pop?”

Arden smirked at his boy- no, he wasn’t a boy anymore but a man grown with a cub of his own. “Near as I can remember, a certain someone who’s gotten too big for his britches used t’sit just as quiet-like.”

“Hey, I still do! Just making an observation- sic ‘im, Y’zareen,” he said as he set the toddler down, and the little girl who was his great love’s namesake ran right towards her grandfather, all but crashing into him like only a young cub who had just learned how to run could.

Arden laughed and picked the cub into his arms and set her down on his lap. “Well now, someone’s happy to see me,” he grinned.

“Stowwy!” the girl said, patting the old man’s chest playfully.

“Oh, I see how it is, just like these little heathens over here, ya just want me for me words,” he play-grumped. The little girl giggled.

“Awright, awright, gather in close, I ain’t gonna yell it out for the lotta ya,” he said, smiling when all of the cubs sitting near his feet- his son included- scooched closer.

“Let’s see now...It was nigh on ten years ago,” he began, and slowly lost himself in the familiar cadence and rhythm and words of the story. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore, so well-practiced and well-memorized was this story. It was, without a doubt his favorite story to tell. The one that stung the most, yet filled him with the most pride. The story of his Jaguar, his mate, his fire, his shadow, his storm. His Zareen.

And it was a complete and total lie.

The story was as much a dramatic retelling of their final hunt together as it was an exaggeration of the things that Zareen- and now Arha- had tried to instill in the young ones. Discipline. Duty. Ferocity and implacability against your enemies. Letting your emotions run free but not letting them run away from you. Keeping a level head. Doing what you must. Making the hard choices and living with them, or dying by them

But he never told them what actually happened during that precious hour that Sarangerel’s bracelet gave her, the hour to decide exactly how she wanted to end her life after she finally succumbed to the Void within. And Twelve willing, he never would. That bittersweet pain was all his own and it always would be.

They knew from the beginning that they were on borrowed time, but neither of them expected to spend twenty-three glorious years together. More than enough, yet not nearly enough. She had been careful over the years, and the signs of her inner void taint took a long time to develop. Discipline. Self-control. The will to resist temptation. Considering how Zareen loved to live life to its fullest right to the end- dancing on that razor’s edge, playing with fire and shadow, becoming that storm that Arden loved so intensely, hunting her prey until the very last moment, spending all those years burning in her fire were as great a gift as the three cubs that they made together. Year after year the taint inside her changed her outwardly, but she was still the same. Her hair became closer to a mane. She grew downwardly curved horns. The tattoos on her body came alive, spreading and covering her arms. Her hands became larger, her claws stretched and became long, wicked razors that she could retract at a whim, and near the end of their time together, whenever she called upon her aether a nimbus crown of blue-black void energy floated above her head- as if they needed more confirmation of what she was slowly becoming.

But even though every second they spent together was as precious as the rarest of gems, that last day- that last hour- was the most precious of all.

They had known going into that day, when the veins in her body and the blood within them grew black, that it was almost time. And so they hunted one last time, together. They went to the ruins of the ancient city of Mhach, which were still infested by powerful voidsent. And it wasn’t long after they began their hunt that Sarangerel’s bracelet finally activated- the dull metal disc finally opened and revealed the arcane pattern of gems that blazed with power which it hid.

They both knew what that meant- Zareen’s mind would no longer be her own in an hour’s time. She would become that which she had hunted and destroyed for decades.

And so Arden wove a fanciful story.

A story of a frightful battle against a voidsent he didn’t actually know existed or not, against hordes of creatures that never actually happened. Of Zareen deciding that it was finally time to end her last hunt, bolting on ahead to the heart of the city and detonating her soulstone, like a star itself being born before his eye, burning as brightly and as furiously as her heart always had.

His children knew the story for a lie, but they allowed him this one thing- this one lie- because they saw how happy it made him to share this story with the cubs. They heard the fierce pride in his voice when he spoke of how they battled their way through the hordes of minor voidlings to reach their target, and they saw the painful longing in his eye when he spoke of his great love: Y’zareen Serhan, their mother.

They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t have to know it. No one but his old friends Khenbish and Dunrai knew the truth, because they were the ones he went to after Zareen’s hunt was over.

No one else needed to know what happened in that last, precious hour. No one needed to know about the tears and the screams, about the anguish and the terror. No one needed to know exactly how much a man and a woman could do with one another or say to one another when there is literally no time to waste. No one needed to hear about the gentle retellings of their favorite moments together, about the fierce, loving pride they felt at all they accomplished as partners and mates. No one needed to know how badly Arden wished to follow his mate to the Lady’s side, but for his need to stay. Ravin and Sarang were young yet, and needed their father’s guidance, and Arha was yet too young and unproven to lead the reborn Jaguar on her own.

But for them- for the three beautiful, strong, courageous, intelligent cubs created from Arden and Zareen’s love, fire, shadow and storm- the story would have ended before it was ever told.

And so Arden watched his beloved go, before the void claimed her forever, and watched as the voidsent swarmed her. And she fought them, roaring in defiance the entire time as they wounded her time and again, until that brilliant flash of light and power from her exploding soulstone claimed them all along with her.

Arden stayed rooted to the spot long after the marsh had reclaimed the crater that had been the center of the ancient ruin, and he hardly remembered returning to the custom mana-cutter he’d had built for traveling on their tandem hunts. He hardly remembered getting in and flying his way back to the Shroud, to Khenbish and Dunrai’s home, where they had so often welcomed his and Zareen’s cubs when they went out to hunt, where their own procession of adoptive children had come and gone. He hardly remembered collapsing to his knees in front of them when they greeted him. There were no words exchanged- no words needed to be exchanged, they knew immediately why he had come.

And his brothers held onto him, kept him together when the shattered pieces of his heart threatened to fall and disappear into the nothing where they had been hidden before Zareen had walked into his life. They kept him together for this, he thought to himself as he brought the story to its conclusion, smiling at the awed, joyful expression in each cubs’ face, at the way his son’s eyes glistened with emotion, at the fierce pride in the smiles of his daughters.

He wouldn’t have known any of this without Zareen. He wouldn’t have seen their cubs grow and thrive and have cubs of their own. He wouldn’t have known the bittersweetness of raising his own family, with and without his beloved.

*********

The old man dozed in his chair on the back porch of his house.

Vah’an...

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the sun’s rays had slowly begun to dip down and darkness filled the Shroud combined with the comfortable cacophony of children playing about in the water had relaxed him to the point of drowsiness.

Vah’an…

Were he capable of more than just nodding off comfortably in his chair at the moment, he might grump about how even as little as five years ago he would have been eagerly joining in their play.

It is being time to awaken, my vah’an…

But such was life, and such was the harsh mistresses that were Time and Age.

It is being time foah one last hunt, yes?

The gentleness of the call woke him with a start, and the old man cursed up a storm. Arden looked around and saw that the moon’s light was the only thing illuminating the clearing behind his home. Where were his cubs? Where were the grandcubs? He forced himself to calm down. Something had to be wrong- they wouldn’t just leave him there, asleep. Abruptly he shot to his feet when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

A cat.

A large one.

A jaguar, sitting at the edge of the treeline, as slight blue-white corona of aether surrounding it. Arden gasped, rubbing his eye and blinking rapidly. When he looked again the jaguar was trotting away, into the forest.

Arden didn’t think- he simply gave chase, all thoughts of his children and grandchildren flying away like startled birds, because he knew this had to be a dream. The rapidity with which he ran out of breath and his muscles protested the sudden activity after such a long time without it quickly put paid to that belief.

Arden panicked as he lost sight of the jaguar, and he spun in place, gulping air as he tried to find it. Find her.

Because it had to be her.

“My vah’an…”

Arden turned abruptly at the sound of her voice.

“Zareen,” he said, breathless, eye wide in wonder as the very image of Y’zareen Serhan as she had been on the day they met stood before him, shrouded in that blue-white light.

“Ahden, my mate,” she replied, her smile as dazzling and her eyes as brilliant as he remembered them. “Long have I missed you,” she said, lifting her hands to his cheeks. They felt warm, with the familiar calluses and the very tiny pinpricks of her claws that he’d long ago committed to memory.

It felt like an eternity before Arden was able to speak. “I’ve missed you too. Every damn second of every damn day.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eye glistening with unshed tears as he touched one of her cheeks with an aged, well-spotted hand.

“I know,” he said, her smile turning sad, “I am being sorreh. But I am also being proud, my vah’an. Proud of what you and ouah cubs have built. It is being theah time, now. It is being time foah you to come home, aftah one last hunt togethah, like befoah,” she said, and leaned up to kiss him on the lips.

Instantly, the old man felt that rush he hadn’t felt since the day she died- that fire, that shadow, that storm.

And in that one moment, Arden Tide was no longer an old man.

He was as young, as happy and as full of vigor as the day they met, as the day she said she loved him for the first time, as the day she told him she was carrying their first cub.

“One last hunt,” she smiled. “One last hunt, and then we return home to The Rivah- to be letting it take us wheah it may, so we can find each othah again in the next life, yes?”

Arden’s response was simply in the kiss he gave her in return.

********

The tiger and the jaguar padded away together into the forest.

Y’arha, Y’ravin and Y’sarang wept tears of joy as they saw their parents reunited for the last time- the perfect end to their imperfect love story.

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lemecdeliott · 1 month ago

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🎧💖🪄. —Eso suena... peligroso —exclamó Zareen al escuchar a Oriona explicarle un plan bien trazado y algo malévolo de parte de su amiga. Seguiría a la contraria a todo lo que le dijera, pero tenía que pensar muy bien lo que harían—. ¿Cuándo quieres hacerlo? —Susurró, en confidencia. Sería mejor no involucrar a nadie más. Quizá... Harsh, pero no, no pertenecía al aquelarre estrictamente y... Bueno, eso lo pensaría más tarde.

💖 para mi Campanita bomnita : @lemecdlucas

#;; zareen byrne #zareen & oriona #sí se llamará oriona? jajaja #okey; en este tengo varias dudas: 1) si oriona tiene su magia o sigue sellada sin poder usarla #en cualquiera podría ser que necesiten un objeto del aquelarre para que la tenga (por completo)#también se me ocurrió que kendall tenga como un grupo de estudio mágico para los más jóvenes (?#y ellas estén ahí jaja; pero tengan que engañarla para acceder a ese objeto y ahí está lo difícil jaja #me dices *

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loominggaia · 4 months ago

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sirenc0re wow, this is very much cyberpunk dystopia... as fertility rates plummet with no change in sight, it's not such a stretch to say that in the far future only the rich will be able to have children. i wonder what that would do for such a capitalistic society? without an eternal underclass to exploit, it's only a matter of time before another one is created to fill in the gaps...

This is basically just Zareenite history repeating itself...Long ago, their population was too low to meet their exploding labor demands, so what did they do? They enslaved the Boanningwad elves.

Eventually the pollution and harsh labor conditions tanked their slave population, so what did they do? Replaced them with automatons.

Now the pollution is so bad that it's tanking their citizen birth rates. What will they do now? I can imagine several different "solutions" that would be characteristic of the Zareenites:

1 ) Subsidize Mechaskemas, forcing them on as many citizens as possible to extend their lifespans.

2 ) Replace the entire underclass with automatons.

3 ) Encourage an influx of healthy immigrants and oppress them to make a new underclass.

Each of these solutions is horribly dystopian, but then again, "industrial dystopia" is Zareen Empire's whole theme.

At some point I'd like to see something radical happen in this empire, like it suddenly pivots into a brighter "solar punk" direction. This is the future that innovators like Ojio and Jeimos are trying to create, but the Zareenite status quo keeps kicking them down.

Stranger things have happened before. Anything is possible!

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#ask #askculture #askzareen #askwhatif

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lemecdeliott · 1 day ago

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🎧💖🪄. —Está bien, ya me acostumbré —le sonrió, divertida. Su papá solía levantarse temprano, parecía acostumbrado a hacerlo desde hace siglos. No lo culpaba. Así podían observar las caricaturas juntos desde temprano—. ¿Ah, sí? ¿Ni siquiera tendré que lavar los platos? —Ese solía ser su trabajo y tampoco le molestaba. Todavía sentía que le debía todo a Frey—. Mmm, entonces es invierno en ese lugar —lo que reducía bastante la lista de sitios al cual podían ir. Zareen se puso en modo investigadora, a pesar de que su padre no se lo había pedido—. Bien, bien, sólo empacaré un poco —saltó de la cama para abrir su clóset. ¡Tenía que decirle a Harsh y a Oriona! —Sí hay un problema —dijo, intentando sonar seria—. El problema es: ¿por qué siquiera lo preguntas? —Se acercó a su papá para abrazarlo—. Y el verdadero problema es que no estén casados, que sepan que estoy siendo paciente con ustedes —bromeó.

🌾 ❛❛🪄🦋Era como un pequeño ángel. Había crecido tanto que Frey se sintió enternecido de lo bien que había crecido Zareen se sentía tan orgulloso de ella. —Bueno, tal vez mucho—Sonrió dejando un beso en su frente.—Està bien, no te preocupes por ello, serás la consentida—Le guiñó con una pequeña sonrisa. —Así es, una sorpresa—Se rio al ver como aquello la había despertado en segundos. —Una cómoda y tal vez algo abrigador porque en esta época del año ese lugar es algo frío—Pensó aunque si hacia falta podría comprarle algo allá—De cualquier forma solo empaca poco, podemos comprarte algo allá si hace falta—Aclaro para que no se presionara sobre ello. —Por cierto, cariño...me tome la libertad de invitar a Kellen para que nos acompañará en el viaje ¿no hay problema?—Casi conocía la respuesta pero, quería estar seguro porque Kellen era parte de la familia quería que estuvieran juntos.

#;; zareen byrne #zareen & frey #claro que se va con sus apas!#pero para cuándo la boda eh??

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loominggaia · 2 years ago

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How is obesity seen and handled in each of the great kingdoms? Which nations are the most and least fatphobic?

This is very difficult to answer because opinions on obesity differ greatly even within the same kingdom, in most cases. Most Great Kingdoms contain many different cultures, and how one culture views fatness can be opposite to another, even if they are geographically close to eachother.

I would say that overall, Seelie and Mogdiri cultures are the most fatphobic. Elven supremacist attitudes run rampant in these areas, and since it's so hard for elves to gain weight, they are naturally thin and see the most beauty in this body type.

Strangely enough, Zareenite culture is quite fatphobic too. You'd think that wouldn't be the case, since the majority of Zareen Empire's population is overweight, but its fatphobic attitude can be traced back to capitalism.

Here's the situation: Half of Zareenites are dworfen. Dworfs put on weight easily. Zareenite's automation tech leads to sedentary lifestyles and shitty food. This has all led to a lot of overweight citizens. Capitalists saw that and thought "hey, we can make a lot of money off these people if we make them insecure and ignorant enough!" so begins the Zareenite diet industry, a storm of stupid fad diets, gimmicky gyms, snake oil supplements, and so on. Meanwhile the citizens remain ignorant about how to actually lose weight because they're bombarded with so much bullshit information from the media...so they keep spending money on crap that doesn't work, they stay fat, and spend more money. Rinse and repeat for centuries. The point is, the media has convinced Zareenites to be self-loathing and insecure about their fatness.

Matuzan cultures generally revere fatness, as plump body types are associated with the wealthy. But this can be toxic too, because in some cases, elves and other species who naturally struggle to gain weight are holding themselves to impossible beauty standards. They end up comparing them to plumper species and feeling bad about themselves.

Evangelites also generally favor fatness, but you'll get some mixed opinions here. Rural Evangelites see fatness as a positive thing, but only for women. If a woman is fat, it means her husband works hard and puts plenty of food on the table, which allows her to stay home and do sedentary domestic tasks. If a man is fat, it means he isn't working hard enough, because Evangelite men are expected to do "outdoor" tasks like farming, which burns lots of calories.

Urban Evangelites feel a little differently. They tend to work less physically demanding jobs than rural folk, so being fat just means you have a desirable job in an office and plenty of money to put food on the table, whether you're male or female. Big muscles or a sinewy body aren't considered very attractive here because it means you probably dig ditches or something.

The Etiosi also appreciate some fat on both men and women, but only if it's accompanied by plenty of muscle. Obesity is not considered attractive because it impairs health. For the Etiosi, being built like a fridge is the height of beauty. Children are also expected to be a bit overweight to protect them from harsh winters and possible famine. If your children are stringy or average sized, you are considered a bad parent.

Meanwhile the traditional trollish cultures of Gaia, particularly those in Wokina and Serkel, revere extremely obese women. I mean really obese, to the point that these ladies are immobilized by their weight and must be tended to by a caregiver (usually her children) to survive. But the same cannot be said for trollish males, because if they are fat, they're seen as lazy and not providing for their families. Male trolls face a finicky standard of beauty because they are seen as lazy/broke if they're either too fat or too thin. They are expected to be well-muscled with a healthy layer of padding, but not too much! Who knew people who live in dung-houses could be so picky?

As a general rule, you'll find the "fat women good, fat men bad" attitude is quite prevalent across Gaia. Ogrish cultures are an exception, because female ogres are naturally bigger and stronger than males, so they don't take domestic roles like other species of women tend to do. Thinness is considered ugly for both men and women in these cultures. The most beautiful ogrish women are the biggest, burliest ones. If she's built like a heavyweight pro wrestler, she's the real hotness in the eyes of traditional ogres. Male ogres are more valued for "softer" body types, maybe a little chunky but not obese.

There are just too many different opinions to get into. Overall it really just depends on the species, their lifestyle, and the culture around them.

As for obesity as a societal issue, it's a real problem in Zareen Empire as I stated, but is also becoming an increasing concern in Matuzu Kingdom and the urban cities of Evangeline Kingdom as well. Matuzu and Evangeline are responding with education campaigns and produce vouchers, among other solutions. Meanwhile Zareen Empire is just throwing diet pills and surgery at the problem to make more money and not solving anything.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

#ask #askhealth #askculture

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loominggaia · 3 years ago

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What was traditional Dworf culture like, and do any Dworf’s today make an effort on being green and respecting Gaia?

All modern dworfs descend from just two groups of dworf, both located in the northern mountains of Noalen. Because of their close proximity and similar environments, these two cultures were nearly identical.

Both groups primarily dwelled in caves. The caves protected them from the elements and kept a stable ambient temperature despite the harsh cold outside. Dworfs were well suited to this environment because they can see well in the dark and their course beards filter out dust particles before they breathe them in.

Of course, that doesn't mean they never went outside. They left their caves quite a bit to hunt, forgage, and gather materials like wood. From the caves they mined ores, which they smelted into refined metals.

Both dworf cultures centered heavily around metal. They were well ahead of their time in terms of engineering. They understood the properties of different metals and minerals better than any other culture on Looming Gaia at the time, and they could do amazing things with them. They took this knowledge with them to Evik and that's how Zareen Empire got such a big boost in technological advancement so quickly.

As for green energy: yes, there are many dworfs employed at the World Athenaeum's engineering division who are working on developing eco-friendly technologies. Dworfs are also credited for inventing Zareen Empire's water purification system, and if it weren't for this system, the whole empire would have died of poisoning long ago.

(Note: this system purifies just enough water to satisfy the empire's water demand. Zareen Empire is not interested in actually using it to purify the oceans they've polluted, as that would be extremely expensive. Plus it wouldn't work, because the system is not without its flaws. It uses chlorine to clean the water, which also kills necessary nutrients in the water that other creatures need.

The water produced by these systems is potable, but it's not "healthy", if that makes sense. It lacks vital nutrients that natural clean water has, which is why Zareenites rely on vitamin supplements to survive. Even if they ran all the world's oceans through their purifiers, the new water that came out could not support diverse ecosystems.)

#ask #askdworf #asktechnology #askzareen

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loominggaia · 4 years ago

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Wow Evangeline is dedicated in being the most deplorable kingdom possible. What exactly in their history made them the backwards, homophobic, speciest slave owners they are today? And is there anything semi decent about them?

Evangeline Kingdom wasn’t always like this. In fact, there was a period in its early history where the native species got along relatively well. It was the Skylind humans that started causing problems, and only because they kind of had to in order to survive.

As the Skylind expanded their civilization (as commoner species tend to do...aggressively), they began encroaching on other species’ settlements. Sometimes they got along and assimilated, sometimes not. But the point was, the Skylind saw that they were the squishiest, most vulnerable peoples in Noalen, so they had to take drastic measures to keep their territory secure.

They had already mastered dragon-taming, which gave them a huge advantage. They were also adept at farming and boasted advanced siege weapon technology for the time (mostly thanks to the native dworfs who they stole the tech from). The royal family of the original Skylind clan (which would later become Evangeline Kingdom) decided the best way for humans to survive was to achieve social cohesion. They all had to be on the same page and cooperate with eachother to reach a common goal. So, the family founded the House of Humanity and aggressively pushed a corrupted version of Lindism onto the people, a religion centered around commoners and human-supremacy.

This was very successful, and the effects just kind of snowballed from there until they ended up with the authoritarian nightmare they have today. The reason they’re so violently misogynist, homophobic, speciesist, etc. is because by restricting the Evangelite peoples’ lifestyles tighter and tighter, they keep them undereducated and loyal to the kingdom. No one does patriotism like the Evangelites, you gotta give them that. Backwards as they may be, most of them are on the same page about most subjects and therefore they’re really good at thought-policing themselves so the government doesn’t have to.

There are positive things to be said about the Evangelites though. I think Evan mentioned in one story that despite all their flaws, Evangelites do have a healthy respect for Gaia and heavily frown upon disrespecting the land. If someone catches you littering in this kingdom, you’ll probably get your ass kicked. So the cities are always quite clean and eco-friendly compared to, say, Yerim-Mor or Zareen’s cities. Likewise, they’re respectful of the local nymphs and the nymphs are respectful to them right back.

Also, Evangeline Kingdom does take good care of its people...as long as you’re a commoner, of course. Food banks and charities are everywhere. It’s almost impossible to starve to death in this kingdom, and school and healthcare are always free. (Granted, the schools are full of propaganda and the healthcare is not very advanced, but it’s something).

There are basically no homeless people here. You really have to choose to be homeless, because the Evangeline govt will do everything in its power to house you, especially if you’re human you get top priority. Can’t find a job? The govt will find one for you, and if they can’t find one, they’ll make one up for you. Probably won’t be an enjoyable or high-paying job, but again, it’s something, and it makes the kingdom look better to have high employment.

Drug problems are minimal in this kingdom. Alcohol abuse is still pretty rampant, but Evangeline Kingdom doesn’t struggle with hardcore drug epidemics like Zareen Empire and Matuzu Kingdom do. The drug trade gets nipped in the bud pretty quickly, it just can’t get a good foothold here.

This may be a pro or a con depending on the case, but sex crimes do get taken very seriously here. Rapists and child molesters aren’t just let off the hook like they are in a lot of other kingdoms, they’re aggressively investigated and face extremely harsh punishments for their crimes, often just put to death. This can sometimes be a bad thing though, since same-sex relations are also considered sex crimes here, no different from pedophilia or rape. Evan mentioned something about this in one of the Eclectic Extras shorts.

Evangeline Kingdom is a mixed bag, honestly. The thing about it is...if you can fit inside the govt’s little box and be a good citizen, life is really good here. Clean air, healthy food, comfy social safety net, no worries...but if you deviate just a little, things are going to get real hard for you real quick.

I wouldn’t even consider it the cruelest government on Gaia. Honestly I’d place the Empire of Damijana way above Evangeline Kingdom as far as that goes. Damijana literally traps its citizens in a big iron cage and then screws them over indiscriminately. At least Evangelites are free to leave if they don’t like it. The Damijani have to fight like hell to escape their oppression. Evangeline Kingdom is just like “oh you don’t like it here? There’s the door, fucko. Get out.”

#ask #askpolitics #asksocial #askevangeline

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lemecdlucas · 19 days ago

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🌾 ❛❛🐦‍⬛⭐🌈Harsh estaba sumamente agradecido de la familia que le había tocado. Siempre se había sentido amado y querido, tanto también como consentido. Era un honor ser un Mikaelson, no podía tener mejor familia—Eso de otros países me agrada. Zareen y yo hemos hablado de eso, ella no está en desacuerdo en que podríamos estudiar en el extranjero—Compartió con su tía pensando que sonaba maravilloso ir y conocer otros lugares. —¿No es allá en europa donde están las mejores escuelas de arte?—Preguntó ilusionado. Harsh amaba el arte tanto como su madre. —¡Sí! quiero que me acompañes, tú mejor que nadie sabría cual es la escuela perfecta—Eliezer era de sus tías la más culta.—¿Lo harás, tí Elie?—Harsh la abrazó y le lleno el rostro de besos—¡Eres fantástica! gracias por convencer a mamá y papá, aunque sinceramente ambos solo te escucharían a ti—Replicó con una risita. —Es que no sé por cuales empezar, tía, todas lucen fantásticas ¿cual crees que podríamos ver?

🧛🏻‍♀️🖤🎹. Correspondió a su toque, sintiéndolo cálido y afectuoso. En definitiva, la vida de su sobrino era lo más valioso que tenían. Incluso había un cambio en ella, quien parecía haber renunciado a cualquier tipo de afecto o sentimiento. —Busqué las más importantes, también hay en otros países —aunque la segunda opción sería más complicada. Sin embargo, no quería restar ninguna opción si Harsh la elegía. Después resolverían el tema de la residencia—. Si así tú lo deseas. —Prefería hacerlo, a dejar la tarea a otra de sus hermanas—. No te preocupes por tu Kine, yo me ocuparé. Además, Hayden está de acuerdo —informó—. Elige las que desees visitar.

#awwggsss ssiii 🥰🥰😍😍 entonces ya tenemos la profesión del esperancito 🥰#✨-eliezer #✨-harsh

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yzareenxiv · 5 years ago

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Fire Burns

Zareen sat in front of her vanity, braiding her hair and humming softly to herself. The quiet sound of Arden singing the twins to sleep was sweetness in her ears and she smiled with a soft and genuine joy, glancing into the nursery to catch his eye before rising and heading to the stairs.

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

She’d gone downstairs, he’d watched her go, the way her hips moved under the fabric of her long skirt. He’d caught her look, the way her eyes shone soft gold as she smiled at him. That smile that lit her up from the inside. He’d smiled back, unable to stop himself. He kissed his daughters goodnight and laid them in their cradle, watching them for a long time before stepping out of the nursery and over to his workstation. Resting his hands on the desk heavily, he bowed his head and his eye moved to his wedding band; thumb running over it, turning it slowly on his hand so it caught the light and shone gold as her eyes.

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

Zareen was in the kitchen, crouched down and looking through the cold-box, considering a snack. The sound of Arden coming down the stairs made her ears twitch and she gave a bright and sweet smile as she turned to ask him if he’d like a drink- then she saw the way he was looking at her and her heart became a stone in her breast, her smile and the brightness behind it wiped away.

One cold, empty, ice blue eye fixed on her, predatory, emotionless. The miqo’te had only that brief warning, that one look, before he closed the distance between them, the Void in his aether slamming into her like a physical force. She gagged and he took advantage of that split-second to flip the table and lunge for her, hands extended for her throat, moving far too fast for a man of his size. A lifetime of training and the instincts of all her ancestors made her drop to the floor, avoiding his grasp by an ilm. She rolled and he lashed out in a kick that barely glanced across her ribs. Fetching up against the side of the cabinet, Zareen pulled herself into a crouch, tail lashing as she tried to keep the snarl from her voice, tried to keep her voice steady as she reached a hand out to him in a calming gesture. “Ahden, come back. Ahden, don’t...don’t do this!”

She was forced to dart to the side as one of the chairs crashed into the place she was crouched, breaking the cabinet and shattering the glass above it. Arden stalked her and she retreated, giving ilm by ilm as they danced around the overturned table in the small space. As soon as he was cornered against the stove, she leapt forward and flipped the table back towards him, fouling his steps with the broken wooden legs. It bought her just enough time to vault over the railing of the stairs and leap up to the landing, then to the second floor, her fingers fumbling for the linkpearl at her ear.

“Someone- please! The cubs- get them out--”

His frustrated roar goaded her to move faster and she came to the door of the nursery at the same moment that he rounded the first landing and came flying up the stairs at her. No time for subtlety, Zareen sliced open her hand with a claw and slammed her palm flat against the door post of the nursery just as he hit her in a shoulder tackle, all nearly 7 fulms of Highlander slamming into her side. Wards shimmered into place around the nursery just before the pair hit the wall of the house hard enough to crack one of the studs and break Zareen’s ribs. Arden drew back his fist to continue the assault only to be met with a burst of lightning that threw him bodily across the room, back slamming into his desk and smashing it apart, shattering the security monitor.

Zareen stood propped against the broken wall, one arm cradling her shattered ribs.

“Ahden...please...” Her voice was very soft, hurt singing through it and fear making it shake. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and shook her head, pleading. “Don’t make me do this. Not again. You promised...you promised everehthing would be okay.”

The big Highlander pushed away from his desk and threw a hand out at her, bolts of void energy slamming into her, one after another, driving her into the tatami mat.

There was silence for a moment, an eerie stillness.

What rose from the floor was barely a miqo’te anymore. Fire and storm and darkness, the Jaguar stood and lifted her head. Blood smeared over her chin as she wiped it away from a split lip with long-clawed fingertips, gold eyes blazing and inhumanly crazed. Her enemy sent a wave of Void energy at her as she stalked towards him. She staggered, a single step, and the look in her eyes was full of mad sorrow, then she threw herself at him with claws already in motion and aiming for his throat. He blocked her, arm sliced to the bone, then drove his fist into her jaw. They traded blows, his fists thudding into her broken ribs, her kidneys, her core, her claws slashing across his chest, his belly, his arms, his face. The false eye he wore was torn away, landing and rolling across the room. He was fast but she was just a little bit faster and when he swung a hard left hook she snapped out and grabbed his wrist then threw herself backwards, pulling him forwards as she fell until she kicked out with both feet and drove them into his hip, launching him back over her head and down the stairs. There was the harsh crack as bones broke then a sickening series of crunches as he hit the landing and kept falling. He screamed, rage and pain in the sound, and the Jaguar let out a roar in reply, twisting herself around and leaping forward, careening off the broken wall to throw herself in a dive at his chest as he started to stand.

She hit him hard enough to send them both to the floor but his hand snapped out and grabbed her by the back of her neck, flinging her away from him as they fell. She hit the post of the small brazier in the center of the room and cried out as it broke, the wood gouging her side deeply with splinters before she hit the couch. Her claws sank into the soft cushions, blood soaking her thigh and the fabric beneath her, then splattering the wall as she gathered herself up and launched herself at her enemy again, coming in low with her shoulder and hitting the side of his knee so it buckled before he roared and slammed both fists down on her back in a hammer blow. She hit the tile so hard she nearly bounced, wind painfully knocked out of her and something in her upper back screaming. Pushing aside the pain, the Jaguar twisted out of the way just in time to avoid having her chest caved in with a stomp, the failed blow making the Highlander wobble on his feet a little as it shot pain through his injured knee.

Taking advantage, she spun on the blood-slicked tile and drove both feet up into his belly, only to have him grab her by the ankles and throw her bodily to the side and directly through the wall of windows above the couches. Glass exploded outwards and showered the lawn and the Jaguar hit the cross-beam between the windows, something in her shoulder letting out a stomach-turning crunch and pain searing through her, making her gasp for air, wide- and wild-eyed. She lifted her head and for the briefest moment, they caught each other's gaze, the Jaguar and the man, before a bolt of unformed lightning and fire and darkness slammed into Arden and sent him flying backwards through the air until he was forcibly and suddenly halted by hitting the wall just above the stairs. He slid down slowly, legs not quite catching him, landing on his hands and knees. His blood pooled on the tile, running down his arms, his chest, his face. He tossed his head to keep it out of his good eye and looked up to watch her.

The Jaguar pulled herself out of the windows and back into the house, clawing forward on her hands and knees. Her right arm dragged useless at her side, collarbone shining very, very white as it jutted through her dark and bloody skin, unheeded in this moment. She stumbled over the torn cushions of the couch, through the coals of the brazier, feet sliced open and crunching on broken glass as she forced herself to stand and stalked towards the kneeling man, stopping a few fulms away and out of reach. Arden pushed himself up onto one knee and they regarded each other across the destruction of their home, the scattered coals of the brazier beginning to ignite the stuffing of the couch.

He threw his hand up, streaks of black flowing through his veins, and shards of the void were flung towards her, slicing her open in a dozen places. Her hand lifted at the same moment, tendrils of dark aether lashing at him, tearing at his mind with every fear he’d ever known. The twin assaults could not continue- Arden’s hands went to his head as he screamed, the Jaguar went down to one knee as she bled, mirroring the man, and again they stared at each other and an eternity stretched silent between them. A little more than a year. A thousand lifetimes, remembered and forgotten. Love and loss and love. Broken promises. Shared laughter. Sweetness and joy. Pain and blood.

A heart beat.

The Jaguar moved before Arden realized it, instinct making him wrap his arms around her as she came at him. She hit him hard enough to send both of them sliding down the stairs together. They hit the upper landing with her lying atop him, cradled against his chest with her head bowed.

The collar around his throat glowed red, pulsing rapidly in time with the bracelet around her wrist. Wild gold eyes lifted, filled with an indescribable sorrow, then lowered to the three ilms of broken glass that her sliced fingers were still wrapped around, the rest of the long shard driven through his heart. Blue gaze met gold and the rapid red pulse slowed.

“Why?”

And slowed.

“I love you.”

And

“I’m sorry”

Slowed

“I love you.”

The solid red glow held steady and Zareen bowed her head, sluggishly bleeding out, whispering in her lover’s ear the words to absolve him, pressing her lips to his to grant him last rites, drinking in his final breath. Fire crackled above her, the flames still small but spreading, consuming the wood and fabric of the main floor slowly and steadily, and all she had the strength to do was to pray, pleading with the Lady that her family would save her cubs. ((Tagging: @eyespywithmyoneeyegtfo ))

#y'zareen serhan #Arden Tide #napalm #fire burns #stories #ffxiv rp #finale #tw: violence #tw: blood

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loominggaia · 6 years ago

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LINDE LUMINA

(more under cut. WARNING: the following text contains spoilers for the Looming Gaia series.)

Name: Linde Lumina

Place of Origin: Zhoulcha of Dryad’s Wood, Serkel

Date of Birth: Summer, 5960

Species: Elf

Occupation: Mercenary, Fashion Designer

Known Relatives: Riona Lumina (mother), Nemeto Zasawan (father), Carbrey Lumina (maternal grandfather), Elanora Lumina (maternal grandmother), Dannae (maternal uncle)

First Appearance: Steel Knuckle Squad

History: Linde was born to Nemeto and Riona, a wealthy couple living in Zhoulcha. Her father Nemeto was a Matuzan native who bought and sold ships for a living. Her mother Riona was a seamstress from Umory-Ond who made upscale dresses.

Linde wished to be a dressmaker like Riona, but her parents pushed her to study hazard magic from a young age. Because Linde was born with albinism, they worried that she would be a target for slavers and other miscreants, and thought her frost spells would protect her.

Unfortunately that was not the case. One night the Lumina home was raided by corrupt mercenaries. The mercenaries murdered Linde’s parents before kidnapping her, trafficking her all the way into the Serkel Desert.

They were hired to smuggle her to a noble in Evangeline Kingdom as a “designer slave”, prized for her rare condition. She was rescued by the Steel Knuckle Squad, however, and decided to join their crew. Later on, the Steel Knuckle Squad was absorbed by the Freelance Good Guys, a gang of self-proclaimed “righteous mercenaries”.

Personality: Linde’s wealthy, sheltered upbringing left her with a snobbish and demanding attitude. In her youth, she scoffed at all but the highest quality things and often rudely snapped at those around her.

However, the experience of being kidnapped by thugs and dragged around the harsh desert humbled Linde greatly. She learned to understand true hardship, developing a strong sense of justice in the process.

Linde walked away from the experience a completely different person. Once a selfish snob who was quick to whine about the slightest inconvenience, she is now a hardened battle mage, a loyal friend, and a hero to those in need.

Linde still enjoys the finer things in life, especially fashion. She designs and makes clothes in her spare time, even designing armor for the Freelance Good Guys. She can’t stand injustice in any form. She will always stick up for those less fortunate than her, even to her detriment.

Though her obsession with equality can annoy those around her, there’s no doubt that her heart is in the right place. She boasts powerful frost spells and proves a dangerous foe to all who oppose her.

TRIVIA

Favorite Food(s): Honey cake. Sweet wine shrimp. Iced coffee.

Favorite Color(s): Light blue.

Favorite Animal(s): Swan. Pitterfly.

Hobbies/Skills: Floemancy. Fashion design/tailoring. Ice skating. Knitting.

Religious Affiliation(s): Agnostic.

Likes: Fashion. Celebrity gossip. Volunteering for charities. Miliko. Collecting buttons and perfumes.

Dislikes: Injustice. Bigotry. Bright sunlight. Zareen Empire. Littering.

Gender Identity/Pronouns: Woman. She/her.

Sexual Orientation: Attracted to males, but questioning.

Medical Record: Albinism. Impaired vision.

Other Trivia:

-Linde studied magic at the World Athenaeum, the same school Lukas and Jelani Fanaka attended. However, she left the school by the time they enrolled.

-Her skin is sensitive to the sun due to her albinism. She always wears a large-brimmed hat and long sleeves to protect her from the sun.

-She has impaired eyesight also due to her albinism, but compensates with reading glasses and tinted contact lenses.

-She inherited her mother’s surname, as is tradition in many elven cultures.