felques

[felques]

270 comments into this slow-burn thread and they're into their second kiss. Second. So impressed by our patience.

Of course, nine comments later, Vil is kissing every inch of Rook's face, so uh. I'll chalk it up to them getting as impatient as us.

[felques]

Me and RP partner: /agree to do a slow burn Rook/Vil thread

100 comments later, they are making out on the forest floor.

Me: Hm. So was that the slow burn?

70 comments later, they haven't brought up the kissing again.

Me: Ahhh, there's the slow burn.

(This thread has gone all over the place and I legit love it.)

[felques]

Vil: Heh, you think you could break me? My hunter, you should know that I'm made of tougher stuff than that. Rook: Oh, I know you are pure steel under a coat of velvet, Roi du Poison. It is why I can relish the sight of you on the battlefield. But I have been breaking things far longer than you have been developing yourself.

Flirting!!

Vil could appreciate Rook's precision on any other day, but right now, it has him letting out a holler as the arrow hits his back. It doesn't knock the wind out of him, but it does make him stumble, and it makes him angry. It's a white hot flash, mixing with adrenaline and stress, and he is furious. It doesn't matter that Vil asked to be hunted, Rook shot him!

Flirting??

[felques]

Written almost a full month ago; just now getting around to editing it into something semi-presentable.

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Though Gaius would be hard-pressed to call Wingul's general mood pleasant, he still spent more time with the younger man than any other in the country. Today was no exception, a break from meetings leading to a respite in Gaius' quarters.

"The chimera is an apt metaphor for us." Wingul had been smiling thinly, golden eyes focused on Gaius over the cup of green tea he had been sipping.

"Yes. The creature is steeped in the mythology of Auj Oule. It makes sense to carry those feelings forward into the next era of the country, does it not?"

Wingul's lips disappeared behind his cup as he took another sip, though his eyes remained on the older man sitting across from him. Without any sign of that smile, Gaius could focus on the fact that there was no humor in those eyes.

"What are you thinking, Wingul?"

"Nothing of import. I find it amusing how shallow your use of the metaphor ultimately is. But you never struck me as particularly poetic."

Gaius frowned, unsure what to think of what was potentially an insult. "Care to share, then?"

Setting down his cup, Wingul slipped a bun from the box to his side and plated it, sliding it across the table to his king.

"You know, of course, that we took our names after elements of the chimera. Its wings, its horn, its stinger, its fangs."

Gaius nodded, carefully taking the dumpling and considering whether or not to eat it while Wingul continued speaking.

"The chimera is a creature of war. While some myths claim it to be a natural creature, most describe it as manmade. How, we do not know. Special artes? It hardly matters. The fact of the matter is that it serves a purpose as its individual parts and as a whole. Upon the chimera's back, a new country arose -- that which we call Auj Oule."

Wingul drank more of his tea, watching Gaius not eating his food.

"Don't be fussy with your food, Gaius. We've been over this."

Gaius wrinkled his nose at the sudden switch in topics. "I am not being fussy. There's no spice in this, right?"

"Of course not. Now eat."

When he realized that Wingul was not going to continue with whatever expansion on the metaphor he had planned, Gaius shook his head and began eating.

Wingul reached for the teapot, his voice wry as he refilled his cup.

"It's for the best that you are not so poetic. Someone needs to be grounded and keep looking forward."

"That was what I vowed to you and the others, yes."

Wingul hummed his agreement but said no more.

* * *

The chimera can lose its horn, its stinger, its claws, its wings. It can and will fight regardless, with all of its strength. Yes, it is powerful with all of its tools, but each aspect of it can be broken, can be taken away.

Gaius grimly looked across the room, watching Wingul as he ordered away a number of soldiers and spies. They had much to deal with, now essentially in charge of both Auj Oule and Rashugal. First had been Jiao, and now Presa and Agria. The Chimeriad was reduced to one member -- the first to have taken on a name in honor of the creature of war.

"I want you to return to Auj Oule and continue running operations out of the capital. Or whichever city you find will allow for easier communication with our forces stationed here in Fennmont."

Wingul did not look over as Gaius spoke, his eyes scanning over written reports. "And what will you be doing, Your Highness?"

Gaius frowned at the lack of confirmation. "You know what I will be doing. Maxwell and her group will undeniably be making their move soon."

Wingul set down his papers and scoffed. "And you intend to meet them with that spirit that has taken a liking to you? That is folly and you know it, Gaius."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Wingul. She is an acceptable partner in battle. Her power is undeniable."

The mention of power brought about a cross look on Wingul's face that Gaius was surprised to not see fade from sight a few seconds later.

"The truth of the matter is that she is unpredictable. Her loyalty is questionable. What if she were to turn against you?"

"It's not like you to sow dissent, Wingul."

The younger man scoffed, golden eyes flashing as he allowed his annoyance to properly surface.

"You don't know what I have done for you and this country, Gaius. It's already foolish how much you have been doing alone -- including going to that other world by yourself."

"What would you have me do? We cannot lose this momentum."

Wingul's silence was sour and utterly poisonous. With an abrupt shake of his head, he coldly responded. "I want you to think on what you are saying, Gaius. For as long as you live -- hopefully a long time, given your decisions at the moment."

"I disagree that this is a bad course of action, Wingul."

It wouldn't be the first time they reached an impasse.

"As you say, Your Highness."

But it would be their last.

* * *

Robbed of its horn and stinger and claws, the chimera stands with only two options before it: fight or flight.

The option to fight is the obvious choice to the steadfast creature, taking to the skies for every advantage it can still use against its enemy.

But wings are fragile. They break more easily than any other part of the chimera.

Wings broken, the chimera plummets to the earth. A stalwart protector of the land. A beast of many battles, always sensing war on the horizon.

A remnant of an era best left in the past.

Upon the dead chimera's back, a new country would rise and flourish.

The people would call the unified land Rieze Maxia.

[felques]

I am a WHORE for “the love is requited, they’re both just idiots”

[felques]

You were cursed to “die the next time the sun sets on you”. That was 10 years ago. You’ve been racing the sun ever since.

[felques]

I often wonder what happened to authors of unfinished fanfictions.

[felques]

When will creators of famous and beloved franchises realise that no fan in the history of fandoms has wanted the sequel with the new generation to have higher stakes and more angsty drama than the original.

A Fan: Wow, can’t wait to see the heroes’ children living in a world that has been made better by the original heroes, having a loving and respectful relationship with the hero I loved and respected as a child, and dealing with their own adventure that might not be as high stake as saving the world, but is important for their own personal journey. 

A creator: How about the world is ending again, the new generation hates the heroes, who have become major assholes for no reason, and everything is bigger and goes more boom.  

[felques]

yume-x-hanabi replied to your post:

oh wow, that's quite an interesting concept

Hahaha, I have A Lot of specific ideas for this Xillia 2 AU. They unfortunately get buried behind this mindset of “I need to finish this idea and this idea and this idea before I can get to this one.”

The references are light, but this piece is tied to some other Xillia 2 AU snippets I’ve posted in the past.

[felques]

yume-x-hanabi replied to your post:

oh my gosh this was intense o_o This AU is so interesting!!

I’m glad you continue to think so! While I have a general idea of where the story goes (mostly major story beats), connecting them together has always been a challenge. Thus the jumping around.

I hope it was clear who Wingul was fighting. :)

[felques]

A second day accomplished?! Amazing. This is already better than some previous new year resolutions. :|

Canon: Tales of Xillia (Indispensable AU) Prompt/first line: “The attack was over in seconds.“ (taken from Squibler)

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The attack was over in seconds.

That was what it felt like, at least. 

Disoriented and feeling ill in the aftermath, the prolonged pain of having struck the far stone face pulled his senses in all directions. What was happening? Were there other people around? He snarled with a gasping breath, wrenching his head out of the dirty snow and willing his body to respond. Fingers clenched into fists. Toes scrunched down in his boots. His wrists trembled, aching from the sudden loss of weight of his blade. Had it flown from his grip? He couldn't remember. He couldn't concentrate on that fact. Discard that thought. Focus on moving. 

Pain. Everything ached. He had to keep moving. If his opponent did not kill him, surely the cold would. Pull painfully cold air into his straining lungs. Yank his shoulders out of the snow sloping down in its descent to the ground. Drag his knees up. Pain. More pain than he had ever felt in his life. Did he break something? That had never happened before. He was supposed to be... He was supposed to be indestructible.

No, that was a ridiculous notion. He shoved the thought away before negative feelings arose to permeate his senses. His knees ached. The joints refused to move at first, locked in the icy embrace of stone and ice.

Breathe deep. He had to move. Now. Now. Now.

With a roar that was more a strangled scream than anything else, he forced his knees to fold enough to kick against the stone face, his torso and hips disturbed from where they were equally buried. Another kick. He shook his head and huffed, his head feeling dizzy. Was a Frenzy overtaking him? Was this from his injuries? He couldn't tell. Everything was disorienting and nothing quite made sense.

And then he was falling. Cold wind burned against his exposed face in his freefall. Time stretched into something he could not discern as measurable. Seconds? Half-seconds? Snow against his face. Engulfing his body.

No. No. He had to get up. There was a threat. He had an opponent. He couldn't stop now. He couldn't. He had to fight. He had to win. He had to... 

He had to bring glory to his king.

A shuddering laugh passed through chattering teeth as he dragged his face from the mass of white around, below, and above him. How ironic. Or was it really ironic? He did not know. But he had made this decision. To fight. To stand at the side of a would-be king. Because there were few who still looked at him like he was a person.

Like he was worth knowing. Like he mattered.

He groped at the snow blindly for a moment before dragging his attention to what he is attempting to find. His weapon. His sword. He had dropped it in the shock of hitting the stone face. There. There it is. He had to drag himself over. No. No. There is a distinct thump in the snow not so far away.

Run. Run. Move. Move. 

His knees shook as he forced them to bend again, barreling forward into a roll through the snow just in time to dodge the monstrous swing where he had been resting just a moment again. Snow scattered, though it is difficult to tell in the growing storm. He gasped for more breath as he struggled forward, booted feet sinking in the deep untouched snow of the valley. His blade thankfully stood out against its surroundings, and he was for once glad for the deep purple that has been associated with his clan for centuries.

Another snarl and he lunged for the half-buried sword, bearing it against his chest as he rolled further away from his lumbering opponent. That giant hammer of his... It was no wonder why he had been struck senseless after taking the full breadth of the hammer's broad side against his body.

He couldn't take another strike like that. No. He wouldn't.

There was a shout rising from beyond the storm. Or perhaps within the heart of the storm. He could not make out the shouts, given the natural sounds around him and the sheer distance -- and perhaps his ears were also aching from that strike. He doesn't know. He can't assess right now. Move. Stumble forward. Use your free arm to sweep snow out of the way.

He had to get more distance. Anything resembling distance. But the gigantic man was bearing down on him again with that monstrous hammer.

The earth shook with the channeled assistance of gathered spirits, the hammer imbued with power to cave the nearby earth into a crater. Arcane. Earth and fire. Just enough fire to cause the crater to smoke with melted snow.

He gritted his teeth and bore his sword against his extended arm. Not his usual stance; his body ached too much for him to muster up the energy to conserve his pride. Curses dripped from his lips as he dragged his tattered concentration together.

Fury. My sword is lightning. My scream is the following thunder.

Thunder Blade.

The spirit arte tore through the air, searing snow into water vapor around him. The glowing energy of wind and fire spirits working in tandem burns a bright violet against the stark landscape, a beacon that cracks ice and earth.

His head ached and it was all the more difficult to tell if it was a matter of an oncoming Frenzy or his injuries demanding his attention. Breath deep. Feel everything dissipate as the spirits gather close.

He could feel his hair rise from his neck as his eyes found intense focus. When he exhaled, the warmth to his breath had been renewed. His feet found better footing as their spirit artes affected the nearby surroundings. He crouched low and swung one leg back, taking an aggressive stance.

Rend the air. Tear through existence. Let this breath be your last. 

Plasma Tempest.

He was Wingul. The wing of the legendary chimera that would revolutionize Auj Oule. 

Through the clash of snow and fire and earth and wind, he flew.

[felques]

I’m challenging myself to write more for 2021. I challenged myself to 1000 words any day I didn’t have kendo activities. It’s... I have no idea how well this will go, considering this first day was still really tough to do. I’ll try to post any that are fandom-related.

These likely won’t be edited; aside from format, this is just how I wrote this prompt.

Canon: Tales of Xillia 2 (AU) Prompt/first line: “He was at a crossroads and whichever path he chose would ruin someone's life.” (taken from Squibler)

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“He was at a crossroads and whichever path he chose would ruin someone's life.”

Troubling. He had no way to know what the world would think of his decisions. Did he truly care, though? The fact of the matter was that, without these made decisions, there would be no world in which he could have critics. And he was by no means a weak enough man to think that destroying the world was worth it to get rid of any critics he may have. He waged war for another man's vision, after all; he knew very well what it took to shoulder the burdens of eyes and tongues and sneers. In the past, his allies -- his coworkers, his subjects, his followers -- were men and women of different tribes scattered across the the whole of Auj Oule. Now, he could count his allies on a single hand, and that fact alone should probably have troubled him more than it really did.

When one man could shatter the existence of an entire world, did he really need more than a few people beside him?

He thought of the Chimeriad, to whom he had entrusted the protection of Gaius; he knew them to be a strong group, even if Agria was still lacking in experience that he would prefer she had. Perhaps that was why he was glad to give them the opportunity to do different things, even if he suspected there was no little amount of resentment that could grow out of his "abandonment." He did not think of it as abandonment. Perhaps a type of self-exile, if he was feeling particularly self-deprecating. A time of necessary self-reflection, if he was feeling charitable to himself. The world had changed with the coming of the Advent (or the Second Advent of Maxwell, if one truly wished to be accurate to Milla Maxwell's exploits), and he still struggled to make sense of it all.

He admired Gaius' ability to accept this new reality, even as a festering anger within him resented him relenting in the face of Jade Mathis and Maxwell's goals. But perhaps Gaius' strength was only superhuman -- nothing that could withstand the shared dream of a human and spirit both. That in itself was at least progress from how he thought of their win in the weeks following Gaius' loss and the dissolving of the Schism. He was changing and accepting the new reality of the world.

Good. It took over a year, but he was catching up to the others at last.

He grumbled to himself, thrusting his GHS in his pocket and instead reaching into his other to pull out the foreign accessory he had only recently received. The wary look he had received when he picked up the strange pocket watch spoke to the mysteriousness of its existence and the extent to which others were not supposed to know about it; it was only through stern prodding that Julius finally relented and explained what the pocket watch was supposed to be for the Kresnik Clan.

Their strength. Their curse. Their fate.

Horrifying.

He had idly thought of the spirits possibly having cruel intentions in the past, but there had never been proof one way or another until the recent happenings with Maxwell. Now this trial by the Great Spirit Origin seemed to spit in the efforts made by Maxwell and her predecessor, using a tiny sliver of humanity to act of representatives and judge their worthiness to exist.

To exist.

He breathed deep as his head ached with the throbbing feeling of intense disgust that sometimes plagued him. A symptom, Julius had said. A symptom of the end of their world that few could actually see, let alone feel. The wariness with which Julius had explained this “symptom” soon morphed into sympathy.

Feelings that were his own, but not. Warped and twisted into something that could explode should the right person come along with the trigger.

So this intense anger and hatred had some basis in his own feelings, but were exacerbated into something that felt downright murderous at certain times.

As the headache left him, he focused on that fact. No matter how he was frustrated with how things had turned out for himself, he did not place the blame at Gaius’ fault. He did not hate him, let alone want to murder him for his decisions. It was his decision to step away, to allow Ilbert to step up and bring Auj Oule and Rashugal together as best they could.

Even if he was no longer at his side, everything he did was still done with his king’s goals in mind.

The pocket watch in his hand stirred with a power that was undeniable. When he had spoken to Julius of the pocket watch, the chromatus, he had reluctantly explained that the watches were “gifts” from the Great Spirit Chronos that were rarely given to members of the Kresnik Clan at birth as a means to undertake Origin’s Trial. Chromatus bearers were rare enough that the extended Kresnik Clan manipulated each other to better position themselves to be in control of chromatus bearers, with Spirius Corporation being the most recent incarnation of that control.

Chromatus bearers could also use multiple watches to amplify their powers. The pointed way with which Julius divulged that information had led to accusing him of wanting the watch for his own uses. At the time, Julius had not denied his words.

Slowing his breath, he listened to the pocket watch tick. A murmured word, and the ticking increased speed.

Haste.

Another word, and the ticking slowed down dramatically.

Delay.

He was no stranger to the assortment of spirit artes that existed. Some of the spirit arte names seemed to exist as long as spirit channelers did, carried down through the ages through written or spoken word. Some were given names at the discretion of the channeler – usually when the spirit arte took on unique properties apart from those usually taught.

The chromatus told him the words. Channeled the energy to turn the words into reality.

When Julius witnessed the chromatus’ reaction to his words, he rescinded any plans of taking it away. Before his eyes, the other man’s face pinched with concentration as his mind raced.

Channeling artes from a chromatus watch. Impossible. Completely unheard of.

A partnership no one would see coming.

[felques]

Tales of Xillia AU: Indispensable ~ Desiccation

Just a little scene that’s been in my head from the Indispensable AU.

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The silence following Lin's frenzy was unnerving.

Nils always thought that way of the unfortunate things, but this frenzy--so much more catastrophic than anything he had seen in his time with the young prince--was followed by a silence that made him question if Lin was still ... there.

Lin was listless in this state, sitting against the wall of their shelter (housing? cell?) with a blank expression that seemed to never change. It was only the occasional blink and shifting of his head that assured Nils that he was not dead.Not dead, but maybe broken. Like a puppet with its strings cut.

At his most worried and insecure, Nils would hug the younger boy to his chest and rock him, trying to take any level of comfort in his steady breathing and slow pulse. Lin's hair, strange to behold in its paleness, was still soft and sleek against his chin as he held him close. But there was no resistance in his limbs. No exasperation on his face.

No light in his eyes.

He spoke to him, in quiet common tongue and in the few halting phrases he knew of the high tongue--always with a wary eye out for eavesdroppers, knowing the precarious nature of their presence in these rebels' camp. There was no reaction. None at all.

Concerned observations and tentative reports carried him from day to day. Fearful confessions buoyed him in the blackness of night.

This had to stop. Something had to give.

Nils could not rightly say if his resolve or sanity would be the first to go.

[felques]

tag your results!

[felques]

Someday I’ll be back to writing fics or doing something else with my free time. (FFXIV drops its next patch next week, so I’ll be disappearing into that for sure.) But for now, I’m enjoying getting to RP dumb soft things with wonderful people.

[felques]

Over a dozen threads developing these two on the long road from friends to lovers ... and the longest thread is a 400+ comment (and still going) sprawling aphrodisiac trip because Hendrik thought it was a good idea to leave an experimental love potion (casino-bought) where Jasper could accidentally ingest it.

I am a serious RPer. /face in hands

[felques]

I’ve been reading a lot of Japanese Dragon Quest XI Hendrik/Jasper fanfics lately, and it finally made me curious to go back and look at what might be around on the GaiWin front. There’s certainly not as much, but... It’s there. Waiting to be read.