#ffxivwrites2023

[akirakirxaa]

FFXIVWrite Prompt 15: Portentous

Rating: M

Word Count: 1493

Warnings: Descriptions of illness, major character death

Summary: Persephone meets her fate. [Vampire AU, Hythazemet, Continuation of Prompt 14.]

Master Post

Persephone cracked open eyes stuck together with sleep and a portentous stinging that she knew normally would herald the coming of a terrible fever. Throat dry, she struggled to push herself up, only to jump in surprise at movement in the dark.

“Shhh, it’s just me,” she heard Hythlodaeus’ voice, and a moment later a dim lamp on the side table clicked on to reveal him looking drowsy in the desk chair.

“Why are you just sitting in the dark?” she croaked as he poured some water into a glass and passed it to her.

“Well, you were asleep, and I was starting to doze off, so I thought-“

“No, no, I mean, why are you watching me sleep?”

“Oh,” he shifted a little. “We figured since we don’t know how long your transformation will take, that we should stay nearby in case you need something.”

“I thought the goal was for me to die,” she said, more conversationally than if she’d been fully awake.

“The process is unpleasant enough without having to suffer through it with no care at all,” he took the water cup back from her, setting it on her side table as she settled back into her blanket.

“I didn’t feel this bad before,” she mumbled, already on the edge of sleep again, but uncomfortable enough to keep her awake.

“Like I said, there are a lot of factors in how fast it goes.” Hythlodaeus pulled a few blankets out of a nearby dresser, setting them across the foot of the bed. “I hope it continues to go this quickly. It’s bad no matter how long it takes, but most tend to agree the less time it takes, the better.”

“Oh? Anything we can do to speed it up?” she asked blearily. He chuckled quietly.

“No, it will take as long as it takes,” he shrugged, touching his hand to her forehead. She leaned into it, the coolness a relief.

“Ah, that’s nice,” Persephone mumbled. “Just stay there, would you?” Another huffed sound of amusement as he reached over with his other hand to turn the lamp back off, but he didn’t move his hand. Or she didn’t think he did. It wasn’t long before she fell back into unconsciousness.

The next few days were an ocean of symptoms; each time one receded, another rose to take its place. If the fever subsided for a time, a cough would emerge, or her eyes would water and itch, or she’d struggle for breath. It was like her body knew all the attempts to rid herself of this infection were futile and desperately was trying everything it had to rid her of it.

The worst was day three, the day her body attempted to purge itself of everything she attempted to eat or drink. The two vampires fussed the worst over that, insisting she keep drinking more and more water even as it continued to come back up. Said she needed to stay hydrated. She pointed out if the point was dying, why were they trying to keep her healthy? They both tried to explain, but her head was so fuzzy she couldn’t grasp the concepts.

Hades fussed just as much as Hythlodaeus, she learned, just went about it a different way. Instead of kind smiles and friendly conversation, he was all scowls and angry admonishments of foolish behavior. The day she tried to go get her own food when her legs shook with chills, he lectured her the whole time she ate the bowl of soup he made for her. But a smile and a thank you seemed to be all it took to crack through the harsh exterior and spy something a bit more bashful just behind. But before she could prod further, he fled the room, switching out with Hythlodaeus.

During the good moments, when she could fathom doing anything but curling up in bed and waiting for it to be over, she asked for her phone. She knew she’d had it with her during the attack, and it hadn’t been on her person when she awoke in the aftermath. After a couple of days, Hythlodaeus approached with something small in his hand.

“So, good news. We finally found your phone, but um, there’s also some bad news,” he presented to her, and she grasped for it only to be filled with disappointment as she realized it was in a sad state. The front was shattered, the metal body bent almost to breaking. The port appeared as if someone had tried to jam something inside. She sighed in disappointment and set it aside.

“I guess the last thing I need right now is people blowing my phone up looking for me,” she mumbled, though it was clear she was far more let down by the news of her phone’s fate than she was letting on.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find it before it got like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. Things can be replaced,” Persephone shrank into her blankets (the chills were almost constant now, so she slept with two thick quilts that did almost nothing to relieve the cold). “You must be hot; go cool off for a while.”

“In a little while,” he always answered her concerns, which she knew to mean only when Hades appeared to swap out. Despite his prickliness, Hades had refrained from complaining about the heat in the room when she was so cold she felt she would never be warm again. She appreciated it. Persephone felt guilty enough about it already without his barbed comments being directed at it. She rested only slightly easier knowing they’d closed off the room as much as they safely could, to keep the rest of the house cool. Not just for their comfort, but her future comfort soon enough, once this heat was just as unbearable to her.

But for now, in the midst of a fever that seemed to just get higher, it was as if she couldn’t get warm enough, the warm air around her still cool on her skin.

~*~

Everyone knew something was off on day seven, when the two vampires realized mid morning that Persephone had yet to stir for water or food. Hythlodaeus woke her first, with great difficulty, food and drink at the ready. She sniffed just a little at the food, a breakfast spread with just about anything she might want, but ultimately refused to eat any of it. The water she choked down clearly only to make him happy, then dozed back off, either unwilling or unable to pull her blankets around her as she had before.

She slept most of the day, the two taking turns watching her like a hawk, abandoning the pretense of keeping busy in her vicinity. Persephone’s occasional shivers and puffs of breath stirring the hair in her face were the only signs of life for hours. Late in the evening, however, Hades looked towards her to find her fever bright brown eyes watching him.

“Would you like some water?” he asked her, clearly deciding that she was far enough gone that insisting she stay hydrated was pointless. She nodded weakly anyway, and he carefully helped her sit up before helping her drink. She took a few sips before pushing it away, and he settled her back before placing the glass back on the table.

“…I’m scared,” he heard a small voice, almost too quiet to catch, and he turned to see Persephone still watching him, tears slowly dripping down her face as she tried to keep them in.

Goddammit, he thought. This is really more Hythlodaeus’ strong suit. He took a breath and pulled the small chair he and his companion had been practically living in for a week closer to the bedside. Hades reached across the blankets to take her hand in his. She clutched it with what seemed to be as much strength as she could muster.

“What’s it like?” she asked, and he could only assume she meant the act of dying itself.

“I don’t rightly remember.” He ran his thumb over her fingers. “It was a long time ago for me. I barely remember the sickness. But I do know Hythlodaeus has assured me over and over that this part you’re going through right now was by far the worst part. So I think you could say that it’s all downhill from here.”

“You do know that has two meanings, right?” Persephone’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk.

“I mean the good one.”

“You better,” the smile faded again, and she stared into nothingness for several moments before Hades tried taking back his hand. Her eyes snapped back to his, and she redoubled her grip.

“Please stay?”

“…Of course.”

And so he did. He stayed when she drifted into sleep again. When her shivering subsided and her fever spiked higher. When her grip loosened around his. When her breathing faded.

And when her heart stopped.

[minti-tales]

FFXIV Write, Day 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Minti Chocolate spends time away from The Knightly Mother.

I need time away from you.

From me? Is our compromise not enough? Colour me surprised.

We made our peace with each other. I don't need you to hold the reins right now. Let me breathe.

And what, pray tell, will you be doing with all your time away from me? No more running away from our villains? Please tell me you plan on doing something constructive.

Oh, I do. I have a list. "Things that Got Away from Me."

A list, she says. I am doing my best to fight the urge to critique it, I assure you. Since, as you said, you need a break from me.

First, I'm going to Costa Del Sol.

The beach? Whatever for?

I promised someone a dance. They're at the beach in Costa Del Sol, waiting for me.

In all my time with you, my Warrior of Light, I have heard naught more strange than that. Go. I will be here if you need to call on me.

-----

Lightning cracked across the sky at Costa Del Sol, a fierce accent to the driving rain that turned the usually beautiful locale into a miniature monsoon. Even from out here, up by the hills with wild cattle huddled together for warmth, Minti Chocolate could see specks of glittering reds and golds, and feathers tossed about on the wind. Troupe Falsiam was here, that was good. They must not have moved about much since the last time she was here. Hopefully Minti would not be recognized in the rain, and could just slip through the musicians without recognition. All she needed to do was find Ranaa, and surely, surely her extreme tardiness would be forgiven.

Right. Here goes.

With every step Minti took, came the threat of being sucked down by soaking wet sand. Perhaps wearing her knight's armor in a torrential rain storm wasn't such a good idea. Upon further reflection, yes, this was a terrible idea, especially since the Troupe's musicians, all seated by one of the seaside bars, were beginning to stare at her. One of them gave a sharp whistle and wave towards the quieter part of the beach. So much for sneaking by, right?

I would love to give you the solution to this little problem, but, I am afraid that I am not available right now. Oh, and do look behind you, Minti.

What?

I warned you. Good luck.

Minti felt her shoulder being tapped, rather sharply at that. A quick turn around revealed a hyur woman on the older side, with greying brown hair and black glasses that were rapidly getting wet. She might have been on the smaller side, at least compared to Minti, but that didn't make her any less intimidating.

Nashmeira, the principal dancer and leader of Troupe Falsiam, looked up at the armored Viera with daggers in her eyes. At least, that's what it felt like. "Miss Chocolate," she said with quiet authority, looking her wayward performer up and down. "It has been *some* time since I've seen you. You look well."

"You're looking wet. Ma'am." Minti turned her head in the direction of the bar. A drink would be just perfect right about now. "Fancy finding you here! Isn't it...great..."

"As I recall, and I do recall correctly, you mentioned that you needed to assist the Scions with some business regarding primals."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And then you did not return, for some time." Nashmeira brushed rain drops from her hair. "Until today."

"Until today, yes ma'am." Would the sand just hurry up and swallow Minti already, please!

No authority over the elements, dear.

You don't need to take this embarrassment. Tell her off and leave. Are you really going to take this dressing-down, bound soul to mine?

I know you're afraid, Marget. Make an excuse and go. You don't need to be here if you're going to fail again.

"I take your returning to mean you still wish to stay in the Troupe? That you want to re-learn how to dance our ancient arts?" Nashmeira gestured over towards an umbrella, away from the pouring rain. "We can talk more where we won't catch our death of cold. Come."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two dancers - one principal, one up-and-coming - spent the rest of the storm catching up, talking about all the accomplishments Minti had made since the day she left Costa Del Sol. It became clear that Nashmeira wasn't angry, more just concerned that she had done something to drive a dancer with such potential away. There would time for forgiveness, if Minti wished for it. "I know that Ranaa would be overjoyed to see you again," Nashmeira said. "She has talked ever so much about you, in your absence.

Now, I've said my piece, Miss Chocolate. What of you? Will you come back?"

-----

The next morning, along the beach at Costa Del Sol, a beautiful viera dressed in fiery reds and golds, with two silver chakrams at her side, spun in joyful partnership with the rising sun.

The dance had begun again.

[zeloinator]

my FFXIV writes 2023 Prompt 1; Envoy entry! Posting them on m Ao3 account and then here as well! Trying to force myself to share my writing and not immediatly delete it.

Heavensward / Endwalker spoilers

Zee goes to Ishgard to delivery several important messages.

[sohkatani]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt #3: Silence

Reverent.

There was no other word for the silence that lingered between the two of them, amongst tender, slowly exploratory kisses. And yet, were she to close her eyes, she knew his mouth as well as she knew her own. His lips slid across hers, warm and wet, his tongue teasing, tasting, his long hair tickling her bare shoulders, clad only in war paint and cloth straps.

There was nothing awkward about this silence. The little shaman didn't feel the need to fill the void with flirty words or sassy teases, as she normally would have. It had taken them so long to get to this point, but this was right. It felt right. The bridging of their past lives as lovers to the present - not just lovers, but as soul mates. Khel.

Dear Khel, who had waited half a lifetime to find her again. To find his little Sunspark.

He kissed her throat and she lifted her chin, gathering the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. She stared at the stars through the little vent-hole at the top of the yurt and thought about how much she loved him, in so little time. Her heart had known what her head hadn't. Her heart had known just how it fit inside his, so perfectly, how her body molded to his, as if she had been made for him.

How could it be that she could love three, so deeply and steadfastly, all so different in their own ways? Strong, brooding Altan, sweet, kind Ganzorig, and now Khel, who had brought memories back to her that she knew in her heart were true of their lives together on the Steppe.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he inhaled deeply of her scent. He'd told her no, but what she hadn't realized was that it hadn't been a no. It had been a not yet. This rejoining of bodies and hearts was going to be a soft thing, a sweet and poignant thing, one of coaxing past lives to the surface, one that wouldn't be complete until he knew every inch of her body again, and she of his. It was to be a reawakening. "I love you," she whispered, barely a breath, gripping his hair to make him look up at her. "I love you."

These words that he'd only heard for the first time in this life moments ago, these words, she wanted to impress upon him. That she, in this life, loved him. He smiled, and it was perfect. Just for her. Just as it always had been, just as it always would be.

[pulse-oflife]

Prompt #1 // Envoy

Slamming into her inn room with a scowl on her face, Keryn furiously started packing, mind racing with the request Kan-E-Senna had made of her following the ceremony at the amphitheater. First, she was still processing the Greenbliss festival - her being involved, the vision she'd seen, and the fact that she had passed out afterwards. As someone who had traveled within the Black Shroud rather extensively prior to the Calamity, the idea of her doing anything remotely like appeasing the Greenwrath or the Elementals was absolutely absurd. Her father had been a merchant, a Gridanian born Elezen, but had the misfortune to be born into a Duskwight family. As such, her experiences in Gridanian had been tinged with something more personal than the typical distrust of outsiders that the city-state was known for.

These days that distrust had faded if not into outright welcome, at least to a grudging acceptance by all but the most hard-line members of society. It made her feel out of place and off kilter to have people not sneer at her as soon as her back was turned, to walk openly on the sun dappled paths through the city. This experience was proving to be almost as disorienting as her initial realization that five years of her life and memory were missing, and if things continued, it would easily take the top slot.

Where else could she go, however? Any paths to Ul'dah that she remembered were sadly out of date, as her knowledge predated the Calamity which had reshaped the land in ways both small and large. Merchant caravans were less inclined to hire unknown sellswords with the proliferation of adventurers, directing her back to the Guild when she asked about hiring on as a guard. Limsa Lominsa may as well have been on the moon for all that she could easily travel to it with airship travel being so restricted.

And so she had put on the mask and stood quietly at the ceremony, stomach twisted at the spectacle of it, of the honor she had received and not wanted. Stomach churning at the memory of her father having to take hidden paths to trade with highborn Gridanians who would not even deign to see him in person, some of the same ones who had stood in the crowd chatting with outsiders. It galled her, that the carriage she had chosen to get on had been Gridania bound instead of Ul'dah.

The honor now presented to her made it worse, in a way. Granting her an airship pass so long as she accepted being an envoy for Gridania. It had made her want to scream - the child of a merchant caravanner who traveled freely now tied to the whims of the city-states.

Instead, she had swallowed her anger, smiled gratefully and accepted the role. It would get her away from Gridania, away from this place that bruised her anew with every moment spent in the shadow of her past. Perhaps it would even allow her room to search for answers about her family. Her inquiries in Gridania had yielded nothing, which was not overly surprising, as her information about her parents caravan was 5 years and a radically different landscape out of date. Her brother's name had sparked no memory in any of the Adders she had spoken to, which was disappointing but somehow about what she had expected. 

So here she was, packing her meager belongings so that she could vacate the inn room she'd been staying in for the past few moons. It had been generous of Mionne to let her stay so long at such a reduced rate and surely she would be glad to have the room back. Shoving one last undershirt in her pack, Keryn realized with a start that she'd finished. There truly hadn't been much to pack - a few changes of clothes, a handful of supplies. Living out of a bag was something she had learned early in life and it seemed the habit would continue to serve her well. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she slung the pack over her back before picking up her lance.

Time to go see if that airship pass was actually any good and finally - finally - get out of Gridania.

[margarettelizha]

Prompt #2: Bark

“Bastion, darling, we must figure this out before Papa gets home, he won’t appreciate such a lack of decorum.”

Bastion - who was entirely unconcerned with decorum, lack of it, or otherwise - was doing his level best to lick every square ilm of Maggie’s face he could reach.

Olivier, despite the hesitation he had displayed in Lord Angelique’s study, had indeed prepared an entire room for Bastion’s nursery. It was a much smaller room, perhaps once dedicated to housing a pianoforte or similar large instrument for practice. Any remaining furniture had been removed, sans a small well-locking cupboard that held the supplies one would require for puppy rearing. Large windows and mostly unadorned drapes filtered a rare sunny sky in beams of golden light to where their little party was assembled on the floor.

The normal operations of the household had been put on hold, Maggie and Edith entirely devoting their time to Bastion’s acclimation. He had gone for little adventures around the estate, encountering all manner of mysterious and interesting things — he was not particularly fond of the suits of armor on display. They had toured the grounds, met the staff, and spent lazy afternoons in the greenhouse for naps when his energy had been expended.

The books Maggie had requested on puppy rearing had been quite adamant about exposing puppies to as many sights, sounds, and smells as possible to produce an even temperament in adult dogs, and she was entirely committed to the education of her new charge. Cosette, one of the laundry maids, had been asked to invite her sister’s family for tea and cakes and playtime. Having no children of her own yet, Maggie was grateful for the borrowed little ones, and it had been hard to tell who enjoyed the experience more — pup or toddlers.

The cheerful chatting with Cosette’s sister as they carefully supervised little hands and little teeth had lifted Maggie’s spirits tremendously. She was grateful to have such a grand distraction. If she had been without mothering duties, she might have started a long lasting feud with their cook with the number of dishes she would need to prepare to keep her mind occupied while Olivier… while he…

“My lady, would you like to take lunch here, or in the greenhouse today?”

Edith’s warm voice found her through the fog, Bastion having fallen asleep in her lap again where she was mindlessly petting him.

“Greenhouse, if you please. He’ll sleep like the dead now, it won’t hurt to move him, and when he wakes we’ll have a nice walk.”

She followed Edith out, little collar and leash in hand, Bastion tucked sweetly into her arms. Her progress through the house meandered, trying and failing to keep her mind from wandering with her steps. The intrusive thoughts of what Olivier could be doing at that very moment lurked in the back of her mind, a thing with half-hidden eyes that waited relentlessly to strike.

“When Papa gets home,” she said to the dust motes in the corridor, to Bation’s soft ear with softer curls, to herself, “We shall have a lovely time, just the three of us. We have to get you all fit to travel if you’re to come with us. Airships can be quite scary the first couple of times, but I think you’ll take to it quite well.”

‘Papa’ was something she kept trying on like a hat, undecided whether to bring it home. She supposed that with their own children, it would be a choice Olivier would have to make for himself, but every time she spoke the word it curled into the corner of her mouth. It felt warm, as though she had just pulled it from the hearth, soft on her tongue, quiet and steadfast just like him.

She was letting the idea of motherhood in as a cautious acquaintance - unfamiliar, and full of possibility.

”You know what they say… puppies are good practice for children.”

The door to the greenhouse swung easily open, and Maggie pressed a small kiss to the top of Bastion’s sleeping head. Her little world was changing so quickly, with the season, with the times, with every sun — best not to rush.

[miyakosora]

Day 1 - Envoy

--- --- ---

She didn’t mind the extra company…really… --- --- --- Just a cross-world trip with her three best friends...that is...if they could ever get out of the city limits. --- --- --- Azem(Oc/Persephone), Elid --- --- --- Word Count: 790

--- --- ---

Day 1

Envoy - a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

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

“Are you sure you're ready to travel this far? Once we leave the city it’ll be safer to keep a low profile.”

She should be grateful that this was her ‘punishment’ instead of another censor. It would be nice to finally get out of the city and back on the road. To travel towards the endless sky towards destinations unknown…but…

“Of course! We don’t want to attract unwanted attention. No grand feats of creation magic while on the road!” Elidibus was already bursting with enthusiasm. “Our trip will be passing by the island with the grapes, I do hope we have time to stop by and taste them.”

She didn’t mind the extra company…really…

“I’ll say, I’ve been looking forward to these grapes since I first heard of their existence.”

“She should have left the damned island to its destruction as the Convocation desired.”

Hytho shrugged while Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.

Really she didn’t mind the company per say…

…but this was exactly how she expected the trip to go.

She had been placed in charge of escorting Elidibus as an envoy to another city. I.E. the other members of the Convocation saw this as a perfect opportunity to dump their youthful member onto her. 

Jokes on them, she much preferred his company to the others.

…speaking of the others.

Naturally, Hades had decided the trip would be too long and treacherous for the two of them to take alone. He ‘convently’ had work to do in the area, and needed to make sure she was held accountable for her previous actions. 

She’d almost preferred to be censored.

Finally, their darling Hythlodaeus had joined on a whim. Though she assumed he wouldn’t be left out of the chaos that was about to ensue. 

“Alright, gentlemen when we reach other towns outside the cities we should reframe from our titles. People from outside Amaurot can be hesitant to the Convocation. I don’t want to stir up too much trouble for them, I can’t image how frightened they’d be by three members showing up unannounced.”

“It’ll be a fun vacation, throwing titles and pretense to the wind.”

“As if they wouldn’t recognize the Chief Architect.”

“And the illustrious Emet-Selch doesn’t have an ounce of fame to his name?”

Kore let out a nervous laugh before clasping her hands together trying her best to regain control of the situation. 

“Okay gentlemen, let's settle down.” Trying to take a calm approach this time. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. We should head out while those spirits are burning bright.”

After all, they hadn’t even left the city yet. 

“Our first course of action is getting Themis to his destination. After that if and only if time allows will we make stops. The Convocation will be wanting a full report, and they expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” 

“Does that include you, or is that a veiled threat at our dear Kore.” 

Oh for Star’s sake Hytho.

The vein in Hade’s forehead threatened to pop. A perfect summary of how this trip was going to go. The two started bickering like the old married couples she’d met on her travels. 

“Boys, we’ll never make it to our first destination before dark if we-” She didn’t bother wasting her breath as the two continued. She dropped her shoulders with a sigh and turned towards Themis. Fixing the bag on her hips she kneeled down. “Come on Themis, I don’t want to sleep on the ground and Lahabread will have my head and my seat if you don’t arrive on time.”

He motioned to move in before pausing. She glanced up at his apprehensive face.

“...Aren’t I getting a little old for you to carry me, Kore?” 

She tried not to be taken aback by the question. Sure he was a growing young man, but he still had several years before he’d reach up to her in height and stamina. 

“Nonsense, and I’ll put you down as soon as we’ve reached a safe distance from those two. Now come on, I wouldn’t mind stopping by that island for some grapes.”

“If you say so Kore.” 

It took a little more effort for her to hoist him onto her back. Perhaps he had gotten a little heavier since their last trip together…how long ago had that been? Nevermind. It wasn’t important. He was a growing boy and it wouldn’t be much longer before he would be trusted to make his envoys alone. 

She’d certainly miss his boyish optimism.  

“Kore, is it okay to just leave the two of them behind like that?” 

“Don’t worry they’ll catch up in a little while. I just wanted to spend some quality time with you.” 

[minti-tales]

FFXIV Write '23, Day 5: Barbarous

An ambush in the woods is thwarted.

CW: Implied violence.

"Please, I haven't got anything a' yours, I swear. Please don't kill me."

He couldn't have been more than sixteen summers, the hyur boy in the leathers and black shoes. The knife he held in his right hand was quivering, shining in the evening moonlight. The black cloth mask he was wearing was slashed in half, and lying pathetically on his lap. He wasn't bleeding, not yet, but the reddish sign of a blade touching skin could be seen, now that his shirt was cut open. "I got no friends out 'ere, I promise, I swear. You're a nice lady, ain't you? You'll be nice to me?" A mixture of sweat from his raven-colored hair and tears from his brown eyes rolled down his cheeks.

Look at him, begging for his life, from a trained warrior. He should not have tried to put that knife to your throat. Novice move for a would-be bandit, if you ask me.

Evil like his should be treated like how the gardener regards a weed that chokes the rose bush. He is weak, Minti. You know what voidsent do to the weak.

Her katana was still in its sheath - there had been need for only one good swing of the blade. Minti Chocolate, samurai, had simply been walking towards Gridania's Lavender Beds, in the moonlight. The intention was to go home, but this boy thought it best to interrupt her. That was a mistake. And now he was at her mercy, scared half out of his wits, crying out to the open air. "I'll scream, and the Wailers will come fer me. Not a good, not a good look for you, miss?"

She put a hand to the blade's grip. This could all be ended now, and nobody would come calling for this boy.

But killing is not what Master Musosai would have wanted for her.

"From this moment forth, do you solemnly swear to be a changed lad? To never do a foolish thing like this again?" Minti pulled the blade out a bit more, letting it shine far greater than any hunting knife.

"Yes, miss! Whatever you want! I'll say my prayers, and eat my vegetables, and whatever the hells else you want."

Minti's blade came forth, then snapped back sharply into its sheath. "Then, by my blade, I cleanse the evil from your heart. Go home, and pray that I don't see you play bandit again."

If you didn't know better, and were passing by Quarrymill, you might have thought you'd seen a boy being chased by voidsent, from the way he was hollering about a mad-woman with a blade in the woods.

Minti hoped that scaring him was enough. Master would have been proud.

[sohkatani]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt #1: Envoy

Upon the vast plains of the Azim Steppe, a small footnote in the history of ever-again went unobserved by the world at large. A small gathering of three tribes commenced, the Dotharl, the Chaghan and, overlooking the affair to ensure that it did not turn from a diplomatic event into a hate-fueled battle, the Oronir.

Khaltmaa of the Dotharl lifted her head and closed her eyes, listening to the snap of the flags proudly flown, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. They had been instructed by the Oronir to limit their delegation to ten, just as the Chaghan had been. Compliance with the order had been reluctant and untrusting; to say that the Dotharl did not get along well with either tribe was to vastly understate the political atmosphere of the day... but the Oronir were, at least for this turn, the rulers of the Steppe. If they were to double-cross either tribe in a peaceful assembly, all of the tribes of the Steppe would rise up against them.

Opening her eyes, she surveyed the field and the forces arrayed before them. The Oronir had brought fifty warriors, clad in bright yellow, some of whom remained on horseback, others relaxing on foot as they watched the proceedings. The Chaghan had brought their allotted ten, dressed in red and black, marks of war drawn in thick greasepaint upon their faces. They were not so calm as the Oronir, pacing and muttering among themselves, holding tightly to their weapons. All but one. One man stood entirely still, one massive brute of a man, even for their people; one man who the whipping winds didn't seem to touch, who stood in the eye of the storm of tension around them and did not flinch. Terkhembaatar, of the Chaghan, stared Khaltmaa down with a terrible calmness, a sense of inevitability, as if he knew the count of her days. Khaltmaa repressed a shudder and straightened her shoulders proudly, the small, elder Auri woman striding forth. She planted her feet in the dust of the plains and called forth in a strong voice untouched by the trembling she felt in her hands, hidden in her warkilt. "Terkhembaatar of the Chaghan, I come here today to make a claim for reason, and for peace. You and your tribemates have pursued my daughter and her mates for the last three moons without cease, sending wave after wave of your brothers to fall before them. This all began because of your tribemate's actions! Your brother in blood chose to slay my son, Sohkatani's brother, in a shameful ambush. He was alone! He was no threat to your tribe or your brother. But your tribe took his head and sent it to me. Is this not a declaration of war? But the Dotharl abided. Sohkatani returned to the Steppes with her mates and slew this man that killed her brother, as was her right. Instead of letting it end there, you and yours have tried many times now to cut them down. End this foolishness."

Khaltmaa fell silent, her heart pounding in her chest. She had fought to be named envoy for these talks, arguing the no other had any more right than she, as it had been her son that had been slain and her daughter that the Chaghan sought to kill now. Standing here, her entire body shaking with rage, fists clenched at her sides, she wondered briefly if another should not have been named to speak. Control, she counselled herself. It was her fury that directed her words, the only emotion that the Chaghan even acknowledged, so far as she knew.

Terkhembaatar did not move for several moments, allowing the wind to carry the last of Khaltmaa's words away. Finally, he took one step towards the tiny, quivering Xaela who stared up at him with so much rage - and the Oronir watching rustled their weapons in warning. Ignoring the taut sound, he fixed his gaze upon her.

"You have much to say, Khaltmaa of the Dotharl, but little to offer. Your daughter owes my brothers a debt of blood. In her thirst for vengeance, she slew five, not one. Four lives are owed to the Chaghan. You ask us to end this. This is my offer to you. She has four mates. We will take the lives of these mates but spare your daughter and the infant." Khaltmaa's heart sank. She hadn't approved of Sohkatani's choice in choosing not one, but multiple mates outside of the Dotharl. Upon meeting two of them, Altan of the Angura, and Ganzorig of the Avagnar, however, she had seen them for honorable warriors who returned her daughter's steadfast love. She'd been unaware of the third and fourth mates, but if she knew her daughter, knew that her heart had been given freely and completely.

The fact remained, however, that none of them were Dotharl. She could not extend Sohkatani's protection to them without officially declaring war between their two tribes. She had no doubt the crafty Chaghan knew this, damn the man. Loathing every word that left her lips, Khaltmaa spoke again, her voice heavy.

"Your terms are accepted by the Dotharl. We will not go to war with the Chaghan over the deaths of Sohkatani's mates, so long as she and the child live."

With that, Terkhembaatar simply nodded and turned away. Khaltmaa followed suit. There was nothing more to say. She had betrayed her daughter to save her life and she knew that Sohkatani would never forgive her, as long as she lived. But she would live, for the sake of her child.

[sohkatani]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt #5: Barbarous

Many years ago...

Sohka could not have been more uncomfortable had she been a fish unceremoniously plucked out of the water. She'd only just arrived in Thanalan from the Azim Steppe a moon ago. One night, only a few suns ago, she'd met a charming, kind gentleman who had introduced himself as a lord of Ishgard. She wasn't certain what all that entailed, but it certainly sounded important with the emphasis he'd put on it. He didn't seem to mind her rugged furs or broken Common, and had invited her to dinner at his home in Ishgard, this very night.

She'd bathed in the river, dried her hair in sunlight and braided it, cleaned her leathers and furs, and had arrived just in time to meet him outside of Ul'dah. There'd been a flash of pleased triumph in his dark eyes that she hadn't been able to discern the reason for, but soon disregarded it, as it hadn't lasted.

They'd teleported to his home in Ishgard, leaving her queasy and dizzy - oh, but she hadn't liked that method of transportation. It had been her first time using that sort of magic and it hadn't agreed with her. Nevertheless, she drew herself up and, arm in his, entered the dining hall... where approximately two dozen other silk-clad guests were seated at the table, all of the staring in utter shocked and cruel delight... right at her.

She'd thought they would be alone. The moment the whispers began, however, she recognized what this had been - a set-up. From the first hello. "Look at her clothing!", "I bet she doesn't even know what a soup spoon is, how barbarous!", "Look how she clings to his arm, it's pitiful!" The whispers began, along with tittering laughter... and to her shame, Sohka - with tears welling up in her eyes - turned and fled. Everywhere she looked, there were more shocked stares, until finally, a kindly young woman took her by the arm and led her to a tavern, paid for a room for her and travel back to Thanalan the next day.

Present day...

She'd never forgotten that lesson. Why she'd dreamt of it now, though, she had no idea. Waking up groggy, still in chains, still on the furs at the feet of the Chaghan, she pondered the dream while trying to orient herself. They had to be close to the Steppe by now, they'd been sailing for days. What she did know was that she'd never run away from anything before then, and would never do so again, even if she happened across the opportunity.

[zeloinator]

FFXIV Write 2023 DAY 2; Bark!

I couldn't get this dumb idea to leave my head all day~ Zee's love language is cooking weird sweets for those she cares for and in this case it is weird candy from tree bark <3

Endwalker spoilers (kinda, but of course i try and tag in case)

[miyakosora]

Day 2 Bark

Azem(Oc/Persephone) x Emet-Selch/Hades

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Work Count: 523

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“Why do you always do this!” He was upset, naturally. Usually, his bark was worse than his bite. He paced around the room like a caged animal, only he wasn’t trying to escape. The veins in his forehead threatened to pop. She wondered if Emmerololth had anything to help him with his stress levels.

She poked around her salad, trying to maintain some level of composure though her appetite had vanished.

“If the situation stresses you, then you don’t have to be a participant.” It hurt to see him like this. The burden of his position weighed on him more and more. The stress pressed his shoulders down, threatening to grind him to dust. She didn’t need their soul sight to see how his ached. “I don’t remember asking for help. Wash your hands of this whole mess and go home Emet. I can handle this myself.” 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The others in the Convocation are planning on censoring you. This isn’t just a minor infraction Persephone!”

She flinched at her given name. Hating how it hit his tongue like acid only to be spat back out at her. There was once a time when that name was a source of comfort that only he spoke. An age that had passed during her travels with Venat. They had grown up, and now it seems they had grown apart. 

“I’m not a child Emet. I don’t need anyone hovering over me with lessons of right or wrong. Not you and not the Convocation. None of you were there, and it’s easy to cast judgment from a distance.” It had always been that way when Venat was Azem. Her verses the Convocation. Kore had watched as her mentor faced every battle headfirst with a smile. 

That’s who she wanted to be.

…but . . .

She tried to look Emet in the eye, but he continued to pace back and forth worrying a trench into the floor of her dining room. With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the table. Rising without a word she walked past him, doubting he would even notice. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be back in a little while.” 

The air was cold in the city tonight. Winter was on its way to the city thanks to the hard workers and the leadership of the Convocation. 

It was so…stifling.

Like most of her travels, she didn’t have a goal in mind. The thought of returning to her home for another unwanted lecture made her stomach churn. Finding a quiet corner in the park she sat and watched as the others went about their evening. 

The night was cool, parents and young children had already headed off to bed or settled in for the night. The only company in the night were pairs or groups not ready to abandon the day together. Sometimes they’d be huddled together, lips whispering soft words to one another. Others would be in groups giggling or laughing about some event. 

At the end of the day they were together. They were whole. 

It made her ache from the inside out.