#FFxivWrite entries

[dressuparley]

FFxivWrite 2024 Day #4 - Reticent

03/12/2024 - Oh hey, no Arley mention in this one, so I don't even have to edit the names. Neat!

---

(I always knew J'ahden had a brief fling with Y'mhitra when he arrived in Gridania, but until now I hadn't been able to put anything about it in words. So have this little tidbit from Y'mhitra just before the breakup.)

05/09/2024 // 555 words // Y'mhitra POV // J'ahden x Y'mhitra // ARR 2.0

Summary: Y'mhitra reflects upon her relationship with J'ahden, and on how it seems to be nearing its end.

---

Y'mhitra sighed and closed her book. Her mind refused to focus, occupied as it was with thoughts of the mysterious Miqo'te charmer she'd been going out with for moons now. He was no doubt away from Gridania at present, off on one of the Serpent patrols that kept the birdmen at bay in the Twelveswood, but her mind refused to let go of him that easily.

J'ahden Kaji was a very courteous, gentlemanly, and just generally lovely young lad, of course. Tall, dark, and handsome in spades, he'd always offer to walk her home from the Carline Canopy whenever they spent an evening there drinking and making merry. He would accompany her on her expeditions with the Sons of Saint Coinach when he was off Twin Adder duty. And he'd also demonstrated a surprising aptitude with arcanima, sitting next to her as she solved difficult problems, discussing complicated things with her and helping her think them through in a methodical manner to arrive at a satisfactory solution.

But he remained as reticent and reserved about his past as ever. And, more concerningly, about their future together.

"So, you're from the J tribe in Vylbrand?" she'd asked him once. "Although the name 'Kaji' is certainly unusual. Was it your father's?"

He'd flashed her one of his disarming grins. "Ah, but to just tell you would be to ruin the mystery, my lady. Besides, why talk about me when we could be talking about the gift from Menphina that you are?"

She'd found a sort of appeal in the intrigue, at first. He'd been an enigma to be unraveled, a riddle to be deciphered, not that different from one of her arcane problems. But now it was starting to grate on her.

He'd dodge any and all questions about his origins every time she'd venture to ask them. Worse, he kept hedging whenever she broached the subject of the next stage in their relationship. Were they serious and exclusive, or was this meant to be just a fun adventure for the skilled archer before he moved on to the next one? Y'mhitra would have been fine with the latter, but she hated not knowing for sure.

"Why worry about the future, when the present has so much to offer?" he'd say, and though it had been endearing once, lately it had started to annoy Y'mhitra's ears off her head.

Sometimes, answers were to be found in the lack thereof. Sometimes, when the question of whether there was a future stretched on too long, that in itself meant that there was no future at all.

It had been an exhilarating little affair, and Y'mhitra had enjoyed it immensely, but now the time had come to call it off.

Y'mhitra swapped her book for some parchment, ink and a quill. She would write to her sister Y'shtola and ask her for advice. Shtola would know best what to do in such a situation. Years ago, back in Sharlayan, hadn't she broken up with that self-satisfied fellow—Thancred, his name was—for similar reasons, and amicably enough that they were still colleagues working together to this day?

She'd seek Shtola's counsel on how best to close this chapter of her life, that, gods willing, she might embark upon the next, equally-exciting one, whether it be one in her personal life or professional.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite24 Entry #22: Taken (You Pick)

FFxivWrite 2024 Prompt #19: Taken Prompt #22: (you pick!)

“‘S’this seat taken?” The words stole her attention away from her half-emptied glass of wine and she peered up at the man who had approached, her gaze roaming over him from head to toe, assessing her prospective company before she settled on an answer. She apparently decided she was pleased with what she saw, the corners of her lips slowly curling into a coy grin and an easy, “I suppose not,” slipping past them. One gloved hand lifted lazily to gesture to the empty barstool next to her, inviting him to join her.

The man seemed equally pleased by her response, judging by his wolfish grin, and he took the offered seat. He didn’t bother to flag down the bartender for a drink. Instead, his focus was fixed wholly upon the beautiful woman beside him. “What’s a gorgeous lady like you doing here all alone? Ya ain’t got somebody at home?” She shook her head, another sly smile playing on her face. “I have a husband at home, but it seems he has decided not to join me tonight.” “Oh yeah? Sounds like a real fuckin’ asshole.” A noise better described as a flirtatious giggle than a laugh escaped her, and she propped her chin upon her palm, gazing over at the charming stranger. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ve found far finer company tonight, haven’t I?” Her free hand crept toward him, daring to rest over his own. At her touch, his eyebrows lifted into a look of surprise more feigned than genuine. “That how this is? Bored, lonely noblewoman lookin’ to lower herself for a good time with some commoner for a night?” “It doesn’t have to be just one night,” she cooed, threading her fingers through his. “Why? Do you have any objections? I venture I wouldn’t be your first.” “Nah, ya wouldn’t be. And not at all, gorgeous. Some other prick might leave you all alone, but I ain’t dumbass enough what not to ‘ppreciate a beautiful woman’s attention when I have it.” “Good. It sounds like we’re on the same page.” She offered his hand a gentle squeeze, her opposite grabbing her glass of wine so she could down the last of its contents before setting it aside on the bar. “Should we get out of here and head somewhere quieter, then?” “If that’s what you want,” he obliged, helping her down from her barstool with their still joined hands. “Ya sure your husband ain’t gonna be pissed? He gonna come beat my ass?” “He can be rather possessive. I hear he’s quite formidable, too.” Only then did Faye dare to lean forward and steal a kiss from the man’s lips, the taste of wine still lingering fresh on her own. Her eyes met with his, a slitted pair of blue and gold. “But I’m sure he can make an exception, just this once.”

@its-the-val-pal

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

Prompt 11 - Surrogate

Oh, he was here. Finally, finally, he was here.

He even looked a bit like her Erichthonios.

And when this man inevitably reached out for that black stone - for her - Athena reached back. Just a touch completed the embrace, and the Heart of Sabik swallowed them both in loving, umbral black.

–

The moment Athena staggered into that glimmering river of souls that was the Underworld, the body that housed her collapsed like a doll with its strings cut. 

A few mental prods from Athena determined that, for the moment, this vessel would no longer obey her because it simply could not. How inconvenient. It was clear its capacity had atrophied over the eons without her hand to mold it. But it certainly was the one she had made, had pulled from her own body like a rib or a bit of organ.

No matter. She just needed a little more clay for it to hold her essence and bend to her will, and such clay existed in abundance in the river all around her.

The Heart of Sabik anchored her against the pull of the Underworld when she left the protective confines of her mortal anchor. Drawing upon the Heart’s power made an easy task of pulling enough aether to stitch together a temporary body of her own.

And how good it was to be able to move of her own volition once more, to finally again wield the masterful tools she needed–her own two hands. Athena lifted them, stretched her reach unto the heavens as she flexed and curled in her fingers one by one.

She had never been one for idleness.

– 

Athena flicked through the memories of her vessel-to-be. It called itself Claudien and was a researcher of somewhere called Sharlayan, but what mattered was that his recollections were tremulous and easily overwritten–a pale moon to her radiant sun. No need to potentially harm the integrity of the body by purging it of memory and will; Athena could merely etch herself overtop them. 

Behind Athena, the aether shifted, trembled, and settled. 

“Yes?” Athena said, tilting Claudien’s chin up as it started to droop. His eyes were half-open and his pupils were subtly trying - and failing - to bring the world into focus. 

“Athena,” her visitor said. “I have delivered your message, as you bade.”

“And more besides, hm?” she replied, tucking some of Claudien’s hair behind his ear. “I have been open and honest in my intentions from the very start. There was no need to play the harbinger–just the herald.”

“You did not forbid me from doing otherwise,” Themis observed.

Athena smiled into her vessel’s vacant face. “No, I did not. Precise work requires a delicate touch. Something as uninspired and brutish as attempting to bludgeon you into full compliance would have been a waste of time and energy for us both.”

She began to circle behind the vessel, her fingertips brushing one shoulder. “It is important to give a caged concept sufficient freedom for it not to test its leash—or, ideally, for it not to be aware one is even ‘round its neck.” 

A shadow fell over Themis’s face. “A technique you have employed on those around you, and on Erichthonios in particular.”

It wasn’t quite a glare, that look her displeased accomplice gave her, but it was close enough to spark a small thrill for Athena. Every little tell was information she could potentially use, each little give in his expression possible leverage in the future. She cataloged it all. 

“Forgive my bluntness, Athena, but his life is his own, and not yours to do with as you please–to say nothing of Claudien.”

Athena smiled condescendingly, as she would at a naive child. “I created Erichthonios. I suffered the agonies of childbirth to bring him into this world. It is my right.”

“He has his own soul, his own mind.”

“And? As shapers of this star, we tinker with such things all the time.” Athena appraised Themis archly. “You are not ignorant of this—and if you were, your journey through Elpis on the way to Pandaemonium should have enlightened you.” 

She returned her attention to her vessel, adjusting his posture - the set of his shoulders, the turn of his head - with brisk little movements. “Erichthonios would have become reliant on you. A dull, clumsy, witless burden. And here I am, willing to relieve you of him.” 

Themis fairly bristled with reproach. “Never was he a burden. Erichthonios deserved naught less than to be free from the shackles of his own self-doubt - a self-doubt you fostered and let fester - and allowed to live his own life.”

“Shackles. What a curious word choice,” Athena purred back, her blue eyes as cold as a frozen sea. “I knew his heart, I knew his soul. A few encouraging words, a tincture of your aether, and you were well on your way to undoing the influence I had over him. But he was still far too meek to divulge his feelings.”

It reminded Athena of a dagger’s blade cleanly separating meat from bone, the way Themis’s lips parted. He looked startled. For the supposed embodiment of the star’s neutrality, he could be read quite easily, and Athena pursued the opportunity as a hound would a hare. 

She snaked one arm across her surrogate vessel’s chest, placing her hand just above the left pectoral. “Such a fire you lit in his breast. Right here,” she tapped over its heart, dimpling the white fabric, “I could feel it. He would’ve done anything for you, and had no small attachment to that ‘familiar’ as well.” 

Athena rested her head on the vessel’s shoulder. “He was beginning to hunger for your praise, your presence, your smile over mine.” Her lips pulled back in contempt. “Witless fool.”

Themis said nothing. His lips were set back in a firm line.

Athena sighed and lifted her head from the vessel’s shoulder. 

“I could not allow that to continue, you understand,” she said. “A few whispers that surely he would be rejected were he to speak his feelings were sufficient.” 

Ah, and there it was–another waver in Themis’s face, too fast to solidly identify with any certainty except that it was most assuredly vulnerable. With the luxury of time, she would have picked it apart and learned what exactly those feelings were and how deeply they ran, but she was a busy woman.

Instead, having found its original mark, the hound sunk its teeth in a little further. 

“It was by design that I made Erichthonios susceptible to flattery and manipulation,” Athena said, stroking Claudien’s hair. It was as unruly as it had ever been, and a bit longer than Erichthonios would’ve worn it. “But his weakness must serve my purpose, and no other’s.”

“That shadow Hythlodaeus sensed…”

“Merely a little imprint on Erichthonios’s soul, so we could find one another again. How troublesome that it was observed and excised,” Athena placed a tender kiss in straw-colored hair, “and yet no matter. The soul crystal Erichthonios made to preserve his memories did just as well.”

“You truly have never seen Erichthonios as aught but a surrogate for your ambitions. What a terrible disservice to you both.”

Themis didn’t even seem aware that he had taken a half step forward. He remained there, but the aether around him subtly agitated. Athena shook her head–to think that he had been chosen as a neutral party for the star’s state of affairs. She would do far better, once all was said and done.

“I will carve myself onto his soul, supplanting all else,” she told Themis, enjoying the way his gaze burned in response. “Let that fuel your fight—the desire to save him. I need you at your very best if I am to learn what I require.”

[crystal-verse]

Day 5 - Stamp

[more in the same verse as the previous two entries]

'Tis foolish, the Exarch knows, but he cannot help the flare of jealousy at the easy way that the Scions all walk beside K'pheli, sling an ar. around his shoulder or grab onto his arm to tug him this way or that, the way they talk to him so easily.

The Exarch does not miss the distrust directed at him by some of them, either, but that he expects. Thancred trusts him in battle, at least, and Urianger in his identity, but Y'shtola makes her dislike of him known, the Leveilleur twins both seem not to not know how to feel about him, and Mehka -- well, she seems to view the Exarch with a suspicion that is. . . not unfounded, when the Exarch recalls just how much of K'pheli the Source's leaders had asked.

The Exarch does not want to do that to K'pheli, though. 'Tis foolish of them, but even now, a century and more later, there is still the part of them that is G'raha Tia, that had so deeply fallen in love with K'pheli, with Sae'pheli'ehva, so very quickly, and so. . . the Exarch watches, and waits. The situation in Norvrandt, in all of the First is desperate, 'tis true, but they will not push K'pheli Tia to be their vaunted weapon of light. No, the Exarch will do what he can to fight the Sin Eaters himself, with the aid of his people. If it means more rest for his guests from another realm then all the better.

So. He breathes. He stamps down on the jealously creeping through his veins. And he hopes -- oh, how he hopes -- that the Crystarium can be a place of refuge and rest for this Warrior who had done so much, and was so often ill besides. 

He brings soup broths and soft cheeses, bland crackers and other things, and when K'pheli smiles at him softly and says in a quiet, strained voice that he may call him Sae'pheli'ehva, the Exarch feels something warm in his chest. Chesamile shares the same pride in the way the warrior slowly heals, putting on more weight at a glacial pace, sleeping better. Oh, Sae'pheli'ehva is in the Spagyrics half of the time, but the other half he is found either in his room or seeking out the Exarch, and -- it is easy, like that, to pretend for just a bit longer that he will be able to stay in the softness of these moments.

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 05 - Stamp

“What are you reading there?”, a familiar voice pulled A'viloh from his thoughts as he browsed through the notebook in his lap. He looked up to find Rael standing beside him.

“Ah, Rael! There you are! Did Rowena have what we need?”

“Fortunately yes!”, the Viera said and tossed a small bag with crafting materials to A'vi while they said down on the stairs beside him. “What kind of book is that?”

“Oh, that!”, A'viloh exclaimed, closed the notebook and handed it to Rael. “Zhloe’s little sister gave it to me while I waited for you!”

Rael took the book an turned it over in their hands. It was a rough leather cover with one leather cord to keep it closed and another one threaded in at th back to keep some rough paper sheets fixed inside. It was clearly self-made and although the workmanship wasn’t the best it seemed to do what it was supposed to do. Wondrous Tails was written in uneven letters on the cover and Rael had to smirk about the funny spelling mistake.

In the inside of the notebook Rael found lots of uneven pages divided by colorful pieces of papers. Most pages were still blank apart from empty grids consisting of wobbly lines and a few words scrawled here and there in the handwriting of a child.

The first few pages however had some notes on them already, written in a familiar small handwriting, that looked at least a tiny bit more clean and practiced, and a few tiny doodles here and there. The content of these texts surprised Rael.

“This one describes Ifrit? Did you write that, A'vi?”

“I did!”, A'viloh nodded. “Zhloe told her sister about us and so Khloe asked me for help because she thought there must be lots of adventurous stories we have to tell! You know, there are quite a few orphans here in Idyllshire and Khloe wants to cheer them up with exciting stories. I found the idea very cute, so I decided to help her. I mean, if it makes these kids happy I can afford a few minutes to write some things down in here, right?”

“Hmmm…”, Rael made and browsed a few more of the pages. “That sound like a very sweet idea to be honest. I just hope our stories are not too exciting for them…”

Excitedly A'viloh’s ears twitched up. “Our? So you want to help too?”

“Maybe”, the Viera shrugged. “Why not?…”

A'viloh beamed. “Great! She’s going to be so happy about this!”

So much excitement made Rael smile faintly too. After a few more pages they paused and pointed to another of these wobbly grids, just that this one wasn’t empty but instead had a few colorful stamps on it. A tiny yellow chocobo baby in one corner, a dancing green cactuar in another and also what looked like a birthday cake on one side of the grid.

“Oh these!”, A'viloh added and pointed at the colorful stamps. “See, for each story we write down Khloe will give us one stamp and once we have a certain number she promised me a reward!”

“A reward?”, with a disbelieving smirk on their face Rael raised an eyebrow. “What kind of reward would a little girl have to offer? Seashells and pebbles?”

“That’s rude!”, the Miqo'te scolded. “She says she sometimes gets some things for free from Rowena, which she wants to trade for stories.”

The look on Rael’s face turned even more incredulous. “Rowena doesn’t give anything useful away for free, you know that A'vi. Better don’t expect much…”

But A'viloh just shrugged. “I would be fine with a pretty pebble or seashell. It’s not really about the reward. I just wanted to help these kids…”

Thoughtfully Rael nodded and browsed back a few pages to look at A'viloh’s entries. On one page they paused and pointed a small doodle that looked like a particularly wrinkled potato with tiny legs and arms as well as an angry face drawn onto it.

“What’s that?”

“What? You can’t tell?”, A'viloh asked and folded his arms in front of his chest. “That’s Titan of course!”

“Titan?”, Rael replied and began to laugh. For a moment A'viloh just stared at them angrily but then he had to laugh too.

“Maybe I will leave the doodles to you next time…”

[cerbaros]

FFXIV Write Prompt 14 : Telling

Fourth Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon

What's with all these monologues I keep having to listen to recently. Every time. Every bloody time someone decides they need to start a big plot to destroy one or 2 worlds, they just start spilling all the beans when they see me. And its not even a conversation, just one sided info dump.

Where's the fun in that. What happened to giving small context clues so I can piece the puzzle together. Maybe i don't want you to tell me everything. Maybe I want to figure it out myself. And even if you do tell me, at least let me reply in some way. Please, for the love of Hydaelyn, stop interrupting me.

What if I thought your plan was bad and I just want to help you make it better. Maybe give you some ideas on how to cause even more chaos and torment. What if I don't always want to be the one saving the world. I want people to save the world from me once in a while. Ever think about that.

With all the failed attempts I've witnessed, I could probably come up with an easy way to take over the world. Shouldn't be that hard. A primal here, orchestrate a civil war there. Play the role of the hero so nobody suspects me. And even if someone figures it out. It wouldn't be because I spent forty minutes talking about the why's and how's.

It would most likely me a meticulous path paved with small pieces for them to see who was behind it all. Small burnt notes that may mean nothing alone, but together form a book with the entire story.

Maybe I'm thinking too deep into this. Maybe that's what they want. They don't care about the ending, they just want someone to know what they did and how. Not gonna stop me from thinking it's dumb though. And that i could absolutely do a better job. And maybe i should.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

Also while I was looking up stuff for my previous post... I found the name of M'naago's pet griffin! It's "Obda". One of M'naago's sisters mentions it in the Custom Delivery quests! :3

[talesfromeorzea]

Captain FFXivWrite2024 Make up Entry for Day 20 Prompt: Duel

"Ye think ye can just waltz on 'ere and take me ship?" The old Roegadyn snarled looking Ryna in the eye, "Well ye got another thing comin cause I aien't afraid o ye 'are."

"And I aient gonna let ye sell these folks like chattle so aye I'll waltz 'ere and where'ever I please when folks be sufferin."

The Roe spat on the deck and snarled, "Then we settle this the old way cause I aient surrenderin me ship or me cargo to ye 'are."

"Captain don't," his first mate begged, "Ye know the 'are aient never missed a shot…"

"Nor 'ave I Siward so shut yer yap n get the pistols!"

The Hyur sighed and went below eyeing with no small amount of fear the Viera standing there before his captain her demon of a beast perched on her shoulder looking to most to be an innocent creature. Siward new better he'd heard the stories about that long eared menace lighting entire ships up in an instant.

Moments later he returned to the deck and opened the box holding two pistols equal in dignity and let both the Crimson Hare and the Captain take one. The pair loaded the pistols then squared off before going back to back as Captain Elildraga growled, "Five paces then we turn and fire, survivor is Captain and decides the chattle's fate."

"Five paces," was all the Viera said and then they both stepped out.

At four steps the Roegadyn turned intending to shoot the Viera in the back only to have her whirl and fire before he had a chance to pull his trigger. Red blossomed on his breast and he stumbled backward before slamming into the rail then dropped overboard dead before he hit the sea.

Turing to the remainder of the crew Ryna called, "Ye 'eard 'im I'm yer Captain now an ye got this one chance surrender and save yer sorry lives or fight te the end and face me, don't think I need an introduction do I?"

Several of the crew simply ran to the rail and leapt overboard choosing the mercy of the Rhotano over hers. The first mate simply asked, "Can we take at least an away boat?"

Ryna nodded, "Aye take one and whatever trash ye have aboard but." she looked at the remainder there standing on deck, "No funny business wi the folks below. Ye leave them there or yer life is forfiet ye savy?"

He gulped and nodded and began prepping an away boat as others of the crew followed one or two decided they were going to try her and he heard the dreaded words, "Light em up Amber!" Followed by pained screams as those who had rushed her erupted into flames and bolted across the deck before leaping into the sea below.

Several of her crew seeing what was going on boarded and began watching those that remained to ensure they followed her orders. Others of her crew went below presumably to unlock the poor souls chained in hull there Siward didn't care his life meant more to him than some coin for folk and she had proven to be as ruthless as he had heard. After a few moments he launched the boat with several of the crew within as well and murmured, "Well lads dunno bout ye but I don't wanna cross the 'ares path again. Lets get the hells outta 'ere."

He then began to row away and not long after he saw the people who had been in the hold being moved to the Briar seen to by the crew of that ship. Once the old Sahagin was cleared he watched as once again the woman's demon glowed with a terrifying red and orange light before the ship erupted into flames the heat still felt from the short distance he had managed to get the away boat to. He watched his old home burn as he continued to row silently vowing to never trade folks again for fear of not escaping that woman and her demons fiery wrath a second time.

[genderdotcom]

ffxivwrite2024 day 14: telling

the scions play cards (post-shb, but with barely any spoilers)

“Alisaie has been notably quiet, I might add.” 

“Oh, really!” 

“Play your card.” Alphinaud instructed with no small amount of smugness. “Then we shall see.”

The pile of cards slumped precariously on the uneven surface of Thancred’s bedsheets. Two days out from their triumphant return to the Source, and Krile was still unwilling to free them from strict bed rest. 

“Cups.” Alisaie announced, placing her card face down on the pile.

“Liar!” It had hardly left her hand before Alphinaud snatched it up. He turned it over- to reveal the Four of Cups.

“Am I now, dear brother? Whatever gave you that idea?”

All gathered on the bed burst into laughter as Alphinaud gathered the cards into his hand. The fruits of his failure secured, he had the heftiest hand of them all- Thancred was not far behind, despite his talent in subterfuge. Y’shtola and Urianger were quite evenly matched, with only a few cards each, while Tataru… 

“Wands.” Said Urianger. 

“Wands.”

“Wands.” 

“Slow down, Thancred. Others need an opportunity to object. Wands.” Y’shtola placed her second-to-last card. “Liar.” Tataru’s voice sliced through the chatter. “Flip it over, Y’shtola!”

She grimaced. Indeed, there it was- the Eight of Irons. The cards went back into her hand.

“Tataru- while I don’t mean to complain, have you at all considered going easy on us? Our infirmity should be cause enough.” “And beating us in this state four times in a row should rightly be considered abuse of your poor, ailing patients.” Thancred fanned out his excessive hand of cards to demonstrate.

“I am going easy on you. We’re not playing for money, are we?” 

“What use would that be? You’re in charge of payroll…” Thancred mumbled. “Well, it’s not my fault you all have such obvious tells. I mean, really! For all the secrets and spy business you get up to, I’d say I’m doing you a favour. Alisaie, it’s your turn.”

“Oh, right. Crowns.” She placed down a card, then stiffened- “Wait, don’t tell me that’s your last-”

“Crowns.” Tataru smirked, laying down her final card.

“Liar!” Desperation bled into her voice. But her fear and horror could not change the facts. From the bedsheets arose the Two of Crowns, and all who gazed upon it knew despair.

“Five-nil for Tataru!” She cheered for herself, accepting the others’ cards back into the deck. “Now, who wants some more tea?”

[reassambled-dragoon]

10: Stable

   Storm Dancer was many things. A daughter. An identical twin. A mother. A grandmother, now. A master goldsmith. A “former” Scion. The Warrior of Light. Savior of Ishgard. Azure Dragoon. Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo. Warrior of Darkness. Champion of Eorzea. Champion of Eitherys. Slayer of gods and primals. Inheritor of Azem’s legacy. The Traveller.

   …and fucking hated ocean sailing.

   “Why in the seven hells did I agree to this, again?” she muttered under her breath as, across the cabin, Wuk Lamat was fighting a losing battle with seasickness. Again. Twelve bless the girl, but it was clear that her stomach was about as stable as a drunkard trying to walk a highwire.

   Storm sighed and rummaged in the small pack she always kept on hand. Thanks to her father, it was stocked with not only her pain management vials, but other useful supplies as well: bandages, suture thread and needles, and, as this was a sea voyage, anti-nausea medicine. Blessedly, Storm herself didn’t get seasick, but it never hurt to hand on hand. She withdrew the correct vial, then caught Erenville’s attention, pointing at her vial, then the miserable young Hrothgar.

   Erenville flicked a long, black ear, then handed Storm Wuk Lamat’s forgotten canteen instead. The Roegadyn mouthed her thanks, upended the vial into the water bottle, and gently swirled the contents for a moment. She moved closer to the younger woman, rubbing her furred back lightly.

   “Darlin’, at this point, you’re not bringin’ anythin’ up save for bile. Y’need t’sip some water.”

   Sad green eyes peered up through tangled reddish hair. “S-Storm, I don’t know if–”

   “Yes, you can, kid. Here, I’ll drink with you. I’m a bit thirsty myself.” Storm passed over the doctored canteen, then pulled her own out and took a sip. Erenville followed suit, his dark face a bit difficult to read.

   Wuk Lamat forced herself to sit upright, though the gentle rocking of the ship caused her to lose her balance. Storm casually looped an arm over her shoulders, coaxing the girl into leaning against her. Wuk Lamat mumbled her thanks and slowly raised her canteen enough to take a cautious sip. She perked up, just a hair, and took another swallow. “It–it tastes like mint! And other things, too. Or maybe I was just very thirsty.”

   Erenville eyed Storm and gave a slight smile. “Perhaps. At least you are getting something into your system. It would be a poor contest if you wasted away before we landed in Tuliyollal.”

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite24 Entry #21: Shade

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #21: Shade

Darkness. Darkness and hunger.

It was all she had known for so long that she had lost track of how long she had been trapped within the Void. Time had no meaning and no measure. Devour or be devoured was the only immutable law of the Thirteenth. Death was a fate she could accept–embrace, even–but to live on as a fragment trapped in another’s body as a conglomeration of forgotten souls was not. So the succubus disposed of the few Voidsent foolish enough to challenge her without prejudice, devouring their lives and growing more powerful with each one. So what if she lost a bit more of herself each time? What did it matter? Was that really such a bad thing? What use was sanity here? What good in being herself? At least it was a brief, hollow relief from the hunger. But the darkness, there was no relief from that. Not until, without warning, that fateful day came. Light, blinding and brilliant, burning and insufferable after so long in the pitch, a portal tearing itself through the blackness. Something unignorable called to her from beyond, beckoned and invited her to come through, tugged at her body and soul. Or maybe it was just the ravenous hunger within her, drawn to that world shining with aether on the other side, so instinctual it moved her body without her own volition. She couldn’t be certain. There was very little she could be certain of anymore. The only thing she did know–had decided–was that the portal was for her. Other creatures were drawn to the light like moths to a flame, starving and desperate, clambering for escape from their eternal Hell. But she fought them tooth and nail, and as always in the Void, the superior demon triumphed. She clawed her way out over their bodies, through the rift and into a dizzying, overstimulating world of light and life and sustenance. Where or when she was didn’t matter. No such thoughts occurred to her now. She only had one drive, one urge: Feed. Whoever had been foolish enough to open the Voidgate stood before her, brimming with aether like a beacon in the night. She pounced on him without hesitation and she was intent on making sure there would be no fighting back, her vicious claws swiping toward his face, rending flesh and leaving his visage a bloodied mess. The mage crumpled to the floor with her atop him, straddling him and siphoning the very lifeforce from his body to sate herself. So lost was she in the hedonistic decadence of a proper meal of aether at last, she was not prepared for what came next. But the mage, he had been prepared for her. He had managed to recover from his mauling just in time to spring his trap before his fate was sealed. She was so focused in her single-minded, feral pursuit of her prey that she had failed to notice the arcane circle and sigils carved into the floor beneath her. He triggered his spell, incorporeal bonds of aether winding around her limbs and ripping her off him, holding her in place. She struggled, thrashing and baring her sharp teeth like a wild animal, but she could not break free, and he wasn’t going to wait long enough to afford her the chance. He pushed himself to his feet, the lifeblood seeping from his face dripping to the floor and pooling into the ritual circle etched there, triggering the spell. The runes glowed to life with aether, and she instantly knew what was happening, but it was too late. The Voidsent was bound to her new master, their aether and destinies irrevocably interwoven. “You…” he began, voice dark and deep, one hand pressing to his wounds and covering half his face. “What is your name?” he commanded, and she was powerless to disobey.

@shadiyah-ffxiv @of-darkness-and-dreams

[velnica]

FFXIVWrite2024 #5 — Stamp

How does one encourage a slacking housemate to complete his part of the chores? Sanson was determined to figure it out. Pre-relationship.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52464214/chapters/149839648

[sexybritishllama]

Do you have a side blog for FFXIVwrite? :3

nope! debated on it but ended up deciding to put my entries up on ao3 instead. i actually started just submitting google docs at first but then i decided i needed to get over the fear of Being Perceived and just post stuff

[without-school-or-style]

02 - Horizon

Word Count: 769

Today’s Card: The Enchanter, Upright (Deception, Trickery—helpful)

Joey stood atop a roof overlooking Lydha Lran and gazed through the rectangular space between his outstretched hands. Il Mheg’s lush flower beds amid the greenery found its way through Joey’s approving view finder. Nodding, he sat down and pulled out a dip pen, a vial of homemade ink, and slightly worn sketchbook.

He opened his sketchbook from the beginning, taking his time to briefly admire the pictures he had done so far:

Ishgard. Kugane. A handful more locations from the First. Old Sharlayan and Radz-A-Han. Seeing his work over such a long passage of time made him smile a little proudly though he quickly pushed that smile away into a frown lest anyone see his shameful act of pride. He was here to sketch things, not pat himself on the back.

He dipped his pen in the jar, then brushed off excess ink on the nib. The last thing he needed was an unceremoniously and accidental blotch of ink, as he had learned the hard way from earlier attempts. Starting with the horizon line, Joey’s pen glided across the smooth surface of his sketchbook’s paper. As lines formed on the paper to indicate shape, that small smile from earlier returned, and his face slowly relaxed to a state of contented bliss. His focus saw nothing except the subject in front of him and the picture before him.

And the sounds of pixie giggles breaking his immersion.

Joey’s ear perked in the direction of the sound. Somewhffere down below, it seemed. He peered down to ground level to see a couple of pixies surrounding a hapless hyur, who clutched the sides of his head, trembling. One pixie gestured to their friend and pointed to the hyur as though to say watch this! A flick of the pixie’s hand and poof! A puff of smoke completely enveloped the hyur. Once the magical cloud billowed away, only a shrub remained where the hyur once stood. Its eyes and mouth—if they could even be called that—were as wide and darkly vacant as a cactuar’s. More giggles erupted from the two mischievous pixies.

At the very least, seeing the spell in action allowed Joey and his strange magical sense to see exactly what kind of silly spell was cast and how it was casted.

And how to break it.

Joey snapped his fingers. Almost instantly, a cloud of smoke erupted from the shrub. When the dust settled, the same hapless hyur from before stood in his place, a shrub no more.

The spellcasting pixie folded their arms. A wave of their hand and before the hyur had the sense to run away, he turned into a shrub once more.

Joey snapped his fingers again. The hyur returned to normal.

The pixie stamped its foot in midair. An even bigger cloud of smoke erupted and the hyur transformed into an even bigger shrub.

Who transformed back into a hyur with Joey’s help.

Then back to a shrub.

Then back to a hyur.

Shrub.

Hyur.

The pixie flailed their arms in frustration. From the greater buildup of magic, Joey guessed that said pixie finally had enough. Waving their hand once more, this cloud of smoke was the biggest yet. When the dust settled, the hyur had transformed into a truly spectacular object d’art appeared with a rainbow arching over its head. Small sparks exploded into shimmering lights to indicate fireworks.

And yet, all that hard work was for naught as Joey reversed the spell once more.

Immediately, the two pixies looked up at the roof and glowered directly in Joey’s direction. Joey sensed a small build-up of magic within the one pixie and quickly recalled how pixies didn’t take to being slighted all too kindly. He surrounded himself with a reflective barrier, anticipating that the pixie was about to fire its ire directly at him.

A smart move. Just as predicted, the pixie fired off the same transformation spell directly at Joey. Thanks to the barrier, the spell bounced away from Joey harmlessly and beelined back to the pixie. In a puff of smoke, the pixie transformed into a shrub of their own making.

The other pixie pointed and laughed. Some friend they were.

At the very least, the other freed their friend from permanent shrub-dom. Then, glowering at Joey one last time, the two pixies flew off to find fun elsewhere.

Joey couldn’t help but have a chuckle. But perhaps the pixies had the last laugh, for once Joey added watercolour paint to his picture, his composition finished with a rainbow at the top.

[shroudkeeper]

26. prompt / last

He was a walking maelstrom, destroying all that was set upon his path; anything that he could overpower would be made undone by his hands. These bodies are evidence of his carnage and lack of sympathy, of how dangerous one man could be when his mind is set on a particular goal.

Lately, his behavior has been erratic. He is off alone, going on missions and not informing the clan of where he is heading off to. If not for my contacts, and falconer, delivering the details of his most recent destination, I would have never known of the malice he unleashed here.

Unfortunately, I arrived too late to do anything but to access the damage caused, though I could care less for the fates of those who side with the Empire, he would not have killed them without reason.

The people who would have known the explanation as to why he journeyed here, and for what objective, were discovered already. Unfortunately, they were dead and could not offer me much in the way of answers. I would need to find something among the corpses to tie him to this location, to the deaths littering this shore.

Nothing appeared out of place, their weapons, primitive as they were, were untouched, within their coffers I found small keepsakes that did not appear to have been rummaged through, and from the looks of it, it would not appear to be anything that would have caught my brother's eye.

However, something did catch mine.

Under the fading light of the heavens, at rest against the stone, a pair of familiar, rose-tinted glasses was kept away from the scattered bodies against the beach. The foreigner had a hand in this? I doubt it, he cowed at my presence alone, I can't fathom him handling himself in combat, let alone know how to use a weapon.

But if the foreigner was here, then that would have been incentive enough for my brother to try add him to his body count, to get him out the way. I had suspicions about him lately and had others keep a vigilant eye on his behavior as his intentions slowly came to the surface regarding my betrothed and the man who had captured her attention.

I didn't think a merchant would rouse such loathing to settle within his heart, but it festered and spread much like a disease through him until it mutated into an obsession. Did that sick delusion lead him here, to try and put an end to the merchant? Which means ..he would need to destroy all the evidence of his involvement in the entire affair. This would cause more harm than good for our lady, which I will not allow.

Either way.. this only creates more questions than answers: why was that man here, and where is he now? Did he last this ordeal?

[memoriesofgelmorra]

FFXIVWRITE Day 1: Steer

Welp, here's my first entry into #ffxivwrite this year! Spoilers for the Island Sanctuary questlines, so if you haven't gotten to 'An Ideal Marriage', don't read.

Moments in time like these reminded Chantelle why Emmanellain and Sicard got along so well, despite their differences. Bicker like a married couple they did, but they wouldn’t pop up so often together if they didn’t get along in some degree… The Ilsabard Contingent had been good for the privateer and her favourite second son of Ishgard, for all she had wanted to box her beloved ear’s after Emmanellain had proclaimed Artoirel’s wish for his younger brother during the grand introductions. Honestly, you would have thought Artoirel would know the worth of different battlefields when she was fought with her words as often as her bow…

The memory of her reunion after the Final Days (and indeed, the tugging of Artoirel’s ear as she gave him a right talking to) brought a smirk to her face, and it was one Sicard caught in the midst of bickering still with Emm. “Oi, Chantelle, what’s got you grinnin’?”, his gaze was skeptical, but it was said with all the rancor of lazy, younger sibling. So no rancor at all.

“Just reminiscing, dear Sicard!”, as she turned to look at Emmanellain. “I doubt Artoirel told you, but I gave his ear a right boxing for that comment he passed to you on sending you to the Ilsabard Contingent! ‘Making a name for yourself, honestly!’, as if you hadn’t already proved yourself quite the connection-maker in Ishgard and beyond already!”

A flush spread across Emmanellain’s face, as he clearly hadn’t expected the comment. For Sicard, who knew of Chantelle as the Warrior of Light, the context was left unsaid. “Artoirel bein’ his elder brother.”

“Indeed!”, Emmanellain exclaimed. “The Count of House Fortemps since the end of The Dragonsong War!”-

“And my beloved.” She said, cutting off him before his true, but odiously long ramble began. “We’re betrothed in all but name at this point. Luckily both of us are busy with tasked deemed righteous by the highborn of Ishgard, so we have a little leeway. Still, it means I can give him a lecture when he deserves it. And he’ll damn well listen to it, by the Fury.”

Emmanellain took a more pensive look at Chantelle, “I-I hadn’t realized you cared so deeply about that…”

“Artoirel is my beloved, but that makes you my future brother-in-law. So of course, I care, silly Emm.” She heard a snort from Sicard at his side, but only rolled her eyes as a response.

“Besides, you two remind me of myself, when I returned to The Shroud, five seasons after The Calamity. ‘Twas 25 myself then. Barely knowing what path I would take as an adventurer, where it would lead. Nary the faintest clue what my fate had in store, with The Scions. As ‘The Warrior of Light’. And even then it took a good, long time to understand where I wanted to steer my path. The Dragonsong War was the start of said path, but it took Doma and Ala Mhigo to learn what I wanted the Warrior of Light to be for Eorzea. For the star.”

“So, what yer’ sayin’,” Sicard replied, in a contemplated tone. “Is that if the Warrior of Light had to find yer’ own path, then it’s unavoidable for anyone.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it might be at times…”, concurred Emmanellain quietly.

“Indeed. But on the bright side, any advice I can give, I give happily. By the Twelve, at least being the Warrior of Light means I have lots of experiences to take lessons from. I can’t help you learn to breathe underwater though. You need the blessing of the Kojin for that.”