#project crystarium

[haila-wetyios]

WIP Wednesday

HAA HAAAA, so tagged by @alexissero to post whatever WIP I got cooking.

It's been... a few years since I've had this in the backburner. But there's a long term RP arc I've wanted to run for friends that I ended up dubbing Project Crystarium. Which is a project Haila leads using her experiments and research on the soul to pretty much create a digital database recreation of the Crystarium itself (reasons why she knows this are some pretty nifty lore I've done through the years). Which is just an excuse for scholars to document memories/lifestyle of a whole city.

But of course, people are needed for stress tests, and the most unlikely of individuals involved in it will take this theoretical chess table and flip it upside down, forcing Haila's hand into dragging more people into it.

My WIP for it is sadly a beautiful empty blank doc outside of XIVWrite snippets or recent RP logs. But I've accumulated art commissions from some sneak peaks I wanted to have at the ready for the future. So VAGUE ART GALORE IT IS WITH NO CONTEXT (and because due to not starting this arc, I haven't been able to share this the entire time):

I really wish I could continue with this and also work on some brief trailer/cinematics for it. But unfortunately the last long arc I ran during the beginning of Endwalker had a very sour end due to someone deciding to be a dipshit personally to me the moment I posted a conclusion and thanked everyone. Which was a bit discouraging but also brings the worry of how open the arc should be and who and who not to involve in it

Added to this, as of right now, a few friends and also OC's that were very important and brought the beginnings of this are currently retired from RP. Which would make this a bit less fun if those instrumental aren't much around or just mentioned and I don't want to force people to come back just for this

MAYBE someday it'll come to pass, I keep telling myself to just organize small scale events for a buildup but boy do games take my attention from that away

[remma-demma]

:) N’ephele gives G’raha a flower before he goes to sleep. G’raha plants / propagates it to remember him. By the time N’eph makes it to the First the Crystarium is absolutely covered in them.

He cross pollinated with, like, Il Mheg flowers to vary the color so it’s less suspicious, but he keeps the original plant in his office.

For aesthetic reasons I pick rhododendrons because 1) I love big ass flowers 2) they make huge bushes that don’t stop growing, some hundreds of years old the size of small trees 3) they’d fit right in in Lakeland.

If propagating an entire plant from one bunch of flowers is unrealistic… Allagan technology beam. The tower has already proven cloning technology, it can manage a flower.

[unionizedwizard]

ok so i've been thinking about ffxiv housing. the in-universe explanation for the housing districts is that the city-states want to attract adventurers because they are a valuable demographics, in terms of spending power, social networks, and martial power. this makes sense, especially in the wake of the calamity; the states have all been considerably weakened and currying favor with (otherwise mercenary) powerful individuals in hopes of stimulating the economy and protecting their own citizenry and property is a rather sound prospect.

this makes even more sense for limsa lominsa in particular, considering merlwyb was the one behind costa del sol - the land being unfit for cultivation, she sold it to gegeruju who turned it into a luxury resort (and kicked out the locals who are now forced to resort to poaching! yay), and was behind the island sanctuary project. she wants to be an economic power using tourism as a means for colonization sooooo badly

it makes sense for ishgard, too - considerably weakened by their own war and isolationism, similarly unable to push for self-sufficiency (considering the environmental disaster that was the calamity for coerthas), they have (imo) correctly identified that one of their avenues for development lies in the brokering of trade agreements and tourism development (ishgard has a unique and strong cultural identity and beautiful vistas that make for a sound touristic opportunity).

it also makes sense for kugane to have a housing district - kugane being the only place that's open to foreigners, and catering quite extensively (not to mention expensively) to tourists' tastes, and being practically the only trade point between hingashi and the rest of the world.

that being said, the game itself acknowledges how unfair this system is, since unlocking access to every housing district involves you watching some poor local citizen's hopes of homeownership getting brutally dashed by the "foreigners/adventurers-only" policy. (except for ishgard, since there is another citizens-only housing district?)

that's very obviously a case of gentrification (textbook definition even). worse, the sprawling suburban hellscape, literal-gated-community-full-of-gaudy-mcmansions that is the housing district is an inefficient use of land + very resource-intensive + creates an entire domestic service economy (labor-intensive to maintain). in other words, the opposite of a community & incredibly alienating to the people living there!!

you CAN'T create this kind of dynamic in the crystarium (first of all there's no room and most importantly the entire concept is that they're a communist city). you can't recreate the kind of exploitative class dynamics they had in EULMORE in there!!!!! that makes no sense!!

now it would make sense in eulmore but the resource availability in the First is still limited, i would say, not to mention it would be an extremely scummy move lmao

as for sharlayan, the same applies; theyre not communist at all (lol) but they would not benefit from tourism or creating this kind of class at all, and anyway they already manage their (limited) (island) land scarily extensively and i don't see how or why or where a housing district could be located anyway (and can you imagine the paperwork??)

now obviously the actual option for a new housing district would be mare lamentorum. it was quite literally made for that. no idea if they will ever go through with it but it would make sense and be physically possible, i think

[uldahstreetrat]

Im trying to take note of real world influences in XIV for some projects going forward, like languages used in areas (French names in Ishgard, Roman terms in Garlemald) or like in aesthetics I suppose (like Radz-at-han in particular reminds me of Istanbul), and I'd like to hear others' thoughts about those kinds of influences that they've noticed

(little more context on things im working on under the cut)

right now this has a lot to do with things like stamps lmao I have in fact gotten kinda into stamp collecting now and I'd like to design some for XIV areas based on similar irl counterpart countries? like regular stamps and stuff like a sort of Garlean version of US postal war savings stamps? so having irl countries to reference for stamp styles would be helpful to like figure that stuff out

and honestly all of this is just part of making a physical copy of Q'ihnn's journal more complicated than it needs to be but never let it be said that I dont have a love of unnecessarily dense world building

plus by having a list of reference countries I can also build out other kinds of like, souvenirs? in the journal from the places visited across msq - a lot of things I see people keep in journals, especially travel ones, are stuff like wrappers or other packaging, pieces of maps, receipts (that's its own rabbit hole ive gone down), ticket stubs, and other various little paper things along with photos and drawings (which are much easier to manage in comparison)

cause a lot of this shit doesnt extensively exist within the game often beyond a mention in a stray line of dialogue or two so there's advantages to having irl cultural and historical reference to make something that feels real - plus im often off in lala fantasy land in my head because im stuck at home a lot, im not exactly well traveled, so im sure its easy for me to miss especially like language use in certain areas (I didnt even notice how French Ishgardian names were until someone else made a joke about it, it just doesnt occur to me)

like some of these influences are fairly obvious, right, like Doma and Kugane being Japanese inspired and Greek influence around Sharlayan (which the Greek/Roman dichotomy that Sharlayan and Garlemald have going on is its own whole thing I could go into btw they're so similar yet different in such interesting ways) - but places like Ul'dah?? not a clue. Ala Mhigo? no idea. The Crystarium and Eulmore in the first??? oh I'd put my head through a wall trying to thing of a real world counterpart for reference

granted now having said that someone is going to point out something obvious that I just entirely missed some way or another lmao but like that's why im asking, right? anyway if you have nerd ass thoughts too just hit me up

[the-storm-chaser]

🖊

Munday asks

🖊 — any tattoos?

//I have 3 sets!

The first, the Ionia symbol.

The second, the Crystarium Aetheryte (from the Shadowbringers trailer)

The 3rd set are DnD flowers. What started out as a character building exercise turned into one of my favourite projects to date, and I got this done as a surprise for last year's dnd trip!

I want to add to the flower sleeve, but that will need to wait until I'm in a more stable position.

[velvet-dusk]

echo - outtake

(This little scene is an outtake from a fic I'm working on polishing. It didn't fit, because the flow of the conversation meandered pretty far from the way I needed the scene to go, and eventually I cut this section entirely and replaced it with one that worked better. But I liked it enough to want to share it, even though it's short enough that I'm probably not going to post it on AO3. Shadowbringers spoilers.)

Once it had become clear that G’raha had fumbled and was continuing to fumble his summoning spell, he had told himself sternly that the Scions were not his friends. Not because he had any reason to dislike them—far from it!—but because he knew them far better than they knew him, and moreover he had stolen them from their rightful lives. No matter how useful their skills, no matter how generously they offer their help, the fact remains that he had done each and every one of them a painful disservice by bringing them to the First.

After their return from the ruins of Amaurot, though—after the second return of the night—G’raha is startled to realize that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn seem to regard him as… a friend?

“Of course we do,” says Thancred matter-of-factly, as the two of them examine one of the Crystarium’s shield generator nodes. Thancred may be no mage, but the generators are also partially mechanical, and with the Facet of Forging staff busy working on some project they refuse to tell G’raha about, he’s the next best choice for repairing fiddly machinery in the entire city. “Our inauspicious arrivals aside—” G’raha winces. “—you were doing what you needed to in order to defend the people under your care. We all understand that. Indeed, we all respect that.”

“I’m surprised to hear you dismiss your arrival so quickly,” says G’raha.

“Me, of all people?” asks Thancred with a shrewd sidelong glance, and G’raha’s ears go flat with embarrassment. “I won’t pretend it was an easy thing to get over. But, well, I like to think that all of us, I’m on the more pragmatic side of things. It was the right choice, and that’s what matters in the end. Wrench, please.”

G’raha hands over the wrench. “Knowing that someone is in the right and thinking fondly of them for it are two different things.”

“They are,” Thancred agrees, and smacks something in the generator’s guts with the head of the wrench. G’raha yelps in protest, but then the generator buzzes to life, and Thancred grins and tosses the wrench back. G’raha fumbles the catch and has to duck down to pick it up. “But the first can lead to the second. And luckily for you, it has. Though, if I may offer a word of advice?”

“Of course,” says G’raha, slotting the wrench back into its rightful place in the toolkit. 

“Y’shtola in particular dislikes feeling like a piece on the chessboard rather than a player. If, in the future, you ever come up with a scheme that you think might involve her, ask her for assistance in the planning stage and not a moment later, even if you think she won’t be interested, or won’t be able to help. She may have forgiven you for this one, but she’s better at holding grudges than I am.” Said with a playful wink, it would be easy to dismiss as a joke. But G’raha can tell that it’s a real warning—and, also, a real invitation, to be a part of the group and its various social dynamics, rather than an outsider looking in.

“I shall,” says G’raha, with sincere gratitude.

[likemosaic]

@aurouze ; continued from here.

victory did not turn out how he wanted to be. the exarch wishes he had thought to distrust emet-selch more--but he had been fooled, much as he is loathe to admit it, by the projection the ascian had put forth: that of a lazy jungle cat with nothing better to do than pester and smirk. the exarch had taken pains to hide his identity, but not enough. alta's victory had been more joyous in his mind when he had envisioned it, less sorrowful. she was meant to return to the crystarium with victory on her heels. he was not meant to survive this.

nonetheless, here they are. in emet-selch's city of nostalgia, twinkling lights and all. when he looks out the window, he can see phantoms on each floor of the neighboring building, moving as if alive. some are doing chores. some are conversing with others. a select few are playing with their children. if he did not know better, he would believe this vision, this false society created by a man driven mad by solitude. how often, the exarch wonders, did hades look out upon these false lives from his window and feel comforted?

he looks at alta. she would have died here, in this shrine to nostalgia. drowned in the light held inside her body at best; turned into a colossal lightwarden at worst. i don't feel as if i've had a choice in a long while. his face contorts in sympathy, understanding. then surprise (and fear) when she touches his clothing.

"no, please, i-" the exarch pulls away, instinctively, grabs at his robes to wrap tighter around himself. he does not know how to be touched kindly anymore, but even if he did, he cannot stand to let her (of all people) see the ugly thing he has become. to see the way the tower has began to eat his body alive. he feels the crystal in his joints when he moves, in his lungs when he breathes, and he knows it will only progress over time. what is not being consumed by the crystal, meanwhile, is bruised and damaged from his time with the last unsundered ascian.

"...forgive me. it is...still tender, i believe." the exarch fingers at the clasp of his robe, unable to meet her eyes. without the veil of mystery surrounding his identity, he feels naked, even when fully clothed. "i will be well. do not worry for me." he is used to lying for the sake of others, by now.

[eorzeanpages]

Crystarium Aetheryte Converse

I have finished it's done!!! My first big embroidery project I have been picking at these off and on for 15 months and I'm proud and excited and relieved all at once Hand embroidered by me, EorzeanPages

[reap-the-game]

I wrote this for a small WIP project but I'm sharing it already 'cause no one can stop me. Behold, Simona's story arc. Vague-ish ShB spoilers ahead.

Gia's shard on the First, Simona was a true force of nature in her earlier years. Born after the Flood, the destroyed realm was all she knew, but what were minor details like that to bring her down?

Though she was raised in the traditions of the Viis in Fanow, Simona had a rebellious streak from the beginning. Everything she was told, she questioned. There was no rule she did not challenge with a why that would take nothing but a proper explanation for an answer, and from a young age she took it upon herself to decide whether a given order of things was one she wanted to follow.

Unfortunately for her, children can be cruel. Her few approximate agemates didn't fail to ostracize her for her oddball attitude, and as such, Simona learned well to rely on herself from a young age. Independence became half of her personality while the other half continued to be rule-bending, that habit of hers never ceasing.

Quite unsurprisingly, all of this drove Simona to abandon the traditions of her people not too far into her adulthood and she left the Rak'tika Greatwood in search of her place in the world. Becoming a lone adventurer, she took to killing sin eaters and other dangerous creatures alike, and it was upon one of these outings that she met him.

Their initial tryst didn't remain as a one-time thing, and over time and many friendly—if quite serious—fights later, her and Seba fell into a more established partnership. She let him in, he let her in, and after a point there was no denying they had found love in each other.

She was happy, and for the next decade they were a party of two, continuing what they had both done alone before, but now together.

When do good things ever last, though? Her happiness didn't last either, when one entirely routine encounter with some eaters saw Seba struck by one with the ability to turn.

Her joy, her love was turned into a sin eater right in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do. All she could do was cut him down afterwards, only to regret the act right after. It would be so much better if she had died, if she had just let him kill her. At least then she wouldn't need to live without him.

But her warrior's instinct had acted before that thought, and now he was dead. After crying herself into numbness, Simona wandered the land aimlessly, guilt her only companion—self-blame spinning as a carousel in her mind. If only she had paid more attention, if only she had acted faster, maybe he would still be alive–

Seba had left her with one last surprise, though, when Simona slowly came to the realization she was heavy with child. Oh, how conflicted she was, how terrified, how mournful that he was not there to see it, that she would never know what he would have thought of this revelation... But it gave her enough of a push to keep living. Traveling to the Crystarium one last time, she settled there and learned the trade of a baker, giving birth to a little Viis some months later.

That precious last creation of Seba she named Adem. Simona continued to work as a baker to support them both, watching the child grow and begin to resemble his father more and more. How it hurt her to look at him, every glance a reminder of what she had lost due to her own failures, but she did her best to provide the growing boy with everything he needed. How successful was she? Well, at least he grew into a fine young man.

Indeed, she stayed in this world long enough to see him reach adulthood, long enough to watch him find himself a date, long enough to witness him marry his sweetheart... But her heart was breaking more and more with each passing day. All of this she had had with his father. All of this she had lost, and she had no one to blame but herself.

How she missed him.

But she lived long enough yet to watch their son become a father himself, when his wife gave birth to the next generation. That Simona saw, and little more.

Age didn't do her in; she was still young by her race's standards. It was sorrow that stopped her heart peacefully in her sleep. Her son would find her long gone when checking in on her after no one could get a hold of her—a smile frozen on her face.

He could only hope she was finally reunited with the long lost love she had never stopped mourning.

[remswrites]

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV (Shadowbringers spoilers) Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Minfilia Warde Rating: T+ Wordcount: 10,675 (complete)

"Even with her gift, she cannot hold them all. So I will do what must be done." He is a relic of a darker age. If he stays he shall be consumed by the tower… and he made it that way. The only decision left to him is when, and for once he would like to play the hero… or the villain, so the Warrior of Light will not save him. Minfilia shakes her head, ever so slight. "Exarch." He smiles. "I must." - Anointed by fate, guided to a dying shard that isn't theirs to save, to endure for the one who one day will. To change a past and safeguard a future. Many hands that put them there, but it will always be their choice to make. In the Crystarium, the Exarch receives a periodic, generational visitor.

Preview:

The early years are particularly perilous.

He is more limber then: his body not yet bound to the tower, and although he has taken to spellcraft, not a paladin yet. The young Crystarium newly risen on its plateau above the lilac woods of Lakeland as fragile as its namesake, a final observance rather than a nation, in need of every advantage he can give if they are to survive.

He arrives at the southern gate to find the sin eater recently perished. Already its overabundance of aether dissipates and a mauve hood covers the slayer's face and carefully shadows eyes, the barest hint of hair escaping past an expressionless mouth and they seem resolute, if not kind.

"I wish to speak with the Crystarium's leader," the stranger – they sound feminine, but he will not presume – says, and he catches the quiver of a gentle smile along with it. "Do you think this will serve that I mean no harm to his people?"

It's not why they did it. A convenient parlay, nothing more. The lowered shield bears the emblem of Eulmore – one less secret in the web of possibilities as to who they are for him to untangle, and the Exarch realises his own precautionary stoicism, that perhaps it is off-putting.

He clears his throat. If they do not know him by sight, a guard he shall be. "The Crystarium is open to all," he says, gesturing. "Although I would ask any traveller whence they hail."

He expects an island and gilded halls and a high tower. Perhaps allusions to further overtures and partnerships to ensure their two states flourish.

Instead the stranger speaks of other places. Of painted hills, and flowers. Of commerce, and hope, and loss. So much loss. Of places he knows as they should be.

He pictures it: as it used to be, when he closes his eyes.

"Home," he manages, the weight of its departure lodged in his throat, sounding more like the man he once was than what he has become. And recognition. "Minfilia."

She lowers her hood to empty blue eyes, forever marked by Her passing.

"Hello, G'raha."

She has wanted to meet with him for such a very long time.

[darthsassacre]

Hmmm...Lyna, for the ot3 with Khadgar, if you're so inclined :3

It had been another long day, but well worth it, as always. The captain of the guard always had to be on alert and prepared for whatever may come, and that meant her days were filled with training exercises, reports, and patrols. The last step was to deliver her daily report to the Exarch before she would grab dinner and fall into bed, to start it all over again the next day.

It was arguably the most fulfilling way she could dream of living her life, in defense of those who called the Crystarium home. And she loved every single second of it.

She opened the door to the Ocular, a smile already on her face.

“Papa? I have the report ready.”

It was empty.

That wasn’t unusual, it just meant he was in his office again. Naturally.

So, she headed for the office just off the Ocular itself, stepping in and freezing.

Long ago, a low couch had been placed within, usually strewn with books and papers, various little bits and pieces of research projects that built up until someone, usually Uncle Emet, got tired of it all and dropped it on the floor somewhere to allow new piles to build up.

This time, however, there was a new reason for the piles to have been dropped on the floor.

Emet sat on the couch, his usual fur-lined overcoat set aside, thrown over the desk chair. One of his arms was around Uncle Khadgar, who was leaned against Emet’s shoulder, sound asleep, looking far more peaceful in sleep than he had in the recent months since that strange arrival that Papa had summoned from… elsewhere. Emet’s other hand was occupied stroking Papa’s bleached red hair as he laid across his lap, purring softly as he slept. Lyna had almost forgotten that Mystel could make that sound.

“Lyna, dear, just leave the report on the desk,” Emet greeted her, voice almost a whisper. “These two forgot what the concept of sleep was again.”

“What about you?” she replied, voice similarly quiet.

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine. I actually enjoy sleeping, like most sane people. Now shoo. I know you’ve had a long day. Sleep well, dear.”

She set the report down, making sure to leave it in a visible location, and then left silently, taking a moment to grab a last look at the trio. Emet winked at her and she had to hide her laugh as she closed the door silently so as to not wake either of the other two.

[hqmillioncorn]

If there comes a time where you are falling down-I'll be your Savior

Cherrypit looked down at his current project and then up at the Crystal Exarch. “Hmm…I think the hood needs work…” He mumbled to himself. All it would take is a few things to fix. Nothing to worry about.  Currently the Crystal Exarch had no idea Cherrypit was in the Ocular. The power to turn invisible came in handy for a lot of things. One of them being sneaking out of the Crystarium and the other was to spy on the guy he was trying to make a doll out of. Despite how Cherrypit behaved he really did appreciate everything the Crystal Exarch had done for him. He was like some sort of weird pseudo-dad and annoying big brother who thinks he knows everything at the same time.  Of course that also included knowing Cherrypit was in the room.  Cherrypit turned behind him, looking at his supplies and dolls. “Lulu can you hand me that thread? And Verty? Can you hand me that snack I packed?”  Both dolls happily attended to their tasks.

ffxiv write day 25: perpetuity

cherrypit loves babycorn!! cherrypit loves cake!! cherrypit loves...

There were a lot of reasons that Cherrypit liked dolls. 

Dolls are fun to play with and fun to hug too! That’s what Cherrypit thought. Everytime he and Babycorn would come across a place that sold toys he would go through all of them and if he happened to make a connection to one he really liked then there was nothing Babycorn could do to keep him from taking it home.

No way in all of the seven hells she could ever resist Cherrypit’s pleading look. 

His giant eyes staring right at her, the way he would wiggle his big ears, the big smile on his face that told Babycorn that he believed with all of his heart she was going to buy it for him because she loved and cherished him.

Babycorn would always fold immediately. 

When Cherrypit wasn’t buying his dolls, he was making them. 

He learned how to make them when he was the tender age of two-years old. The same age he had been for the past twelve years or so. The dolls Cherrypit made weren’t professional by any definition of the word, but it was still pretty impressive. 

The weaver’s guild had given him all the supplies he needed and in a short time Cherrypit had made a stitched rag doll. Giving it the name ‘Bebe.’ The name of the person he loved the most in the entire world! Babycorn was flattered, and a little mad that some doll had stolen her name but if it made Cherrypit happy it was fine. 

There weren’t a lot of places Cherrypit didn’t take his dolls to. 

He would take all his dolls, especially the Calca and Brina dolls, to all sorts of places. Like the kitchen, B’ig Nunh’s room, the very top of a tree and to the doctor’s office. The last one in particular was very important. Cherrypit needed all the support he could get to stay brave in there. 

Another scary place Cherrypit would take his toys was into battle. 

They wouldn’t fight but they would be there when the battle was over, ready to play a fun game with him. Then when night would fall he would sleep in a big pile of his dolls. Then they would have a nice rest and sweet dreams together. 

Playing with his dolls was so much fun!

The truth was that Cherrypit has a special secret talent! That you can’t tell anyone about! 

Cherrypit can bring dolls to life! So they can talk and walk and do a lot of things on their own. All Cherrypit needs to do is think it, and the dolls do it. So many of his dolls would clean up around the mansion. His dolls would also make sure that all his friends were safe and sound. 

Ready to let Cherrypit know if something was wrong. 

Of course Cherrypit didn’t just bring his own dolls to life. He would bring life to any toys that his friends had. Like Linnet and Pancake’s stuffed toys. They would mostly run around when both girls weren’t looking, cleaning up the messes they left behind and helping with their homework. 

There was something else Cherrypit loved about all his dolls.

Unlike so many things whenever dolls broke or got ripped apart–Cherrypit could fix them easily! 

All it would take was a few stitches here and there, maybe some replacement stuffing and they would be as good as new! Different dolls could also be fixed in all sorts of different ways. He could use glue for porcelain dolls, tape for paper dolls and a thread and needle for the rest. 

That way Cherrypit’s dolls would last forever.

His friends would last forever. 

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Bebe would

Cherrypit looked up, he had been resting his head on his knees for who knows how long. 

His room was a mess. Torn up drawings and pieces of broken furniture were littered everywhere. There was a sign that something had been on fire recently. It still smelled a little like smoke. 

Cherrypit wiggled his feet around, they had fallen asleep. He had fallen asleep too. How long had he been asleep for? There was no one in his room anymore except for him. 

There was a mirror leaning up against the wall next to Cherrypit. He ended up startling himself when he looked at his own reflection. 

Different colored eyes were staring back at him. A blank white and and a piercing blue one. 

Cherrypit’s eyes were stinging. Maybe it was from the crying or from how long he was exposed to black rose. His eyes were red and puffy. He had been crying for a really long time. It was dark when he got back to his room and now there was light outside. A beam of light was softly shining its way inside. 

As it turned out–Cherrypit wasn’t as alone as he thought. 

The sound of rustling papers caught his attention. It was coming from the other side of the room. Cherrypit stood up and slowly walked towards the noise. He didn’t really have a plan of what to do once he found out what had made the noise. It felt like there was just something pulling him towards it. Something familiar. 

When Cherrypit got there he looked down to see a small doll, sitting where he had left it when he left the day before. There was a teacup in front of it. The last time he was in this room Babycorn had promised him she would play with him when they both got back. 

Cherrypit picked up the doll in his tiny hands. It was a doll he had once made himself. 

“Bebe…” Cherrypit hiccuped out, his breathing becoming faster. Something in his chest was hurting. 

The doll wasn’t moving anymore. It wasn’t looking at him. 

Just like all the people Cherrypit had seen. Standing and fighting one moment then in a flash they were lying on the ground, unmoving. No matter how hard Cherrypit had yelled at them to wake up nothing would happen. He had run through the battlefield trying to find anyone he recognized. Nobody woke up. Nobody.

No matter how loud he yelled. How much he shook them. How much he used his magic to heal them. How much he wanted them to wake up. 

Cherrypit gripped the doll in his hands.”Bebe…” its old stitches slowly began to tear themselves apart. 

Babycorn had stayed awake more than the others. Cherrypit could still remember. She had said something to him, he saw her mouth moving but it was so loud around him he hadn’t heard a word before she

Cherrypit let out a scream and tore Bebe in half. 

Stuffing of all different kinds and from different times came spilling out. He kicked the stuffing away and threw the remains of the doll against the wall. Cherrypit let out a sob, crying louder than before. The pain in his chest wouldn’t stop, his heart just kept going and going. 

He cried out for his sister, saying her name over and over again. Hoping that she would be able to hear him and come running back to get him. 

There were no tears for his broken doll. He didn’t care. He barely remembered it had existed. Who had the time to care?

When nothing lasts forever after all.

[laspocelliere]

Day Twenty-Four: Bar

“You do know, hero, that you’re meant to drink at a bar.”

The Ascian had appeared at her elbow suddenly and without a sound, but she didn’t flinch. She raised her small glass instead, turning it in her hand to show off the gently rippling amber liquid within. 

Emet-Selch did nothing but raise his eyebrows, and didn’t leave.

The Wandering Stairs were nearly empty at that hour. With darkness restored to the land, residents of the Crystarium had discovered very quickly that their bodies naturally responded to the ebb and flow of daylight and evenings. Children began to find regular bedtimes, and adults found themselves yawning over late-night projects that had never had them bat an eye before. In the latest hours of the evening, the usually lively bar space was almost deserted, save for a few poor souls hunched over their drinks, or slumbering gently at one of the nearby tables.

The Warrior of Darkness had no such attitude. Spine straight and eyes dry, she sat unmoving on one of the unoccupied stools, slowly sipping at a drink that almost reminded her of the whiskeys she was accustomed to on the Source, save for a slight tanginess that lingered on the tongue and kept drawing her attention.

She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Rather focus on that than the Ascian currently standing at her side, perfectly at his ease as he slouched against the bartop next to her elbow.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he examined her, a small piece of theatrics that she didn’t appreciate, “if I didn’t know you better, my dear, I would say that you almost seemed melancholic.”

Cold in her calm, she pressed her glass to her lips. “You don’t know me at all.”

If she’d been looking, it was possible that she could have seen something soften in his eyes. “I know you far better than you think, hero.”

When she glanced over, his impassive expression was back. “You would have enjoyed the drinks in Garlemald, I think. None of this flavoured nonsense to seduce fools into thinking they’re enjoying what they’re drinking. Proper, spiced brews that will keep you warm in your chilly climes.”

That, at least, kept her sharp gaze on him unflinchingly, and he at least had the decency to smile. “What, you think I haven’t done my research on you, Warrior of Darkness? Seems only fair, since you have entire history books about me.”

She didn’t reply, but he didn’t seem to expect one. Instead, he reached out and plucked the glass out of her unresisting figures. “Seems a pity to waste, though. I should have expected they would only serve you from the top shelf.”

He took a swig, exactly where her own lips had once been on the glass.

She resisted the sudden urge to smash the glass out of his hand.

[unionizedwizard]

going through endwalker MSQ on my 2d character and there's something crazy going on about corvos like

-> garleans claim to be originally from corvos (that they call locus amoenus. which is a whole thing that would deserve its own 10000 words essay but anyway) before they got "kicked out" by "the corvosi" (?). to this day they still dream of "going back" and the infamous radio song/national anthem is a reference to this project (even though corvos is currently under imperial rule...?)

-> g'raha is from corvos. his tribe has been living there for centuries after the fall of the allagan empire, in order to protect the allagan ruins and artefacts from being used by a new aggressive imperialist nation (hence the allagan eye), and was sent to sharlayan as a safety measure when garlemald invaded corvos (within his lifetime)

-> according to a researcher in meryall agronomics, labyrinthos was modelled on corvos, because its unique, favorable and varied climate was deemed ideal for experimentating on different biomes and growing/creating new types of plants (also it's clearly supposed to be italy (and rome). g'raha italian-coded confirmed)

-> according to g'raha himself (and very obviously), the crystarium and its various locally-grown crops/greenhouses meant to breed and safeguard new strains of plants (necessary endeavor for survival in a post-apocalyptic world) was directly inspired from sharlayan, including labyrinthos

-> while this was, as far as i know, not directly confirmed in canon, i'm pretty sure we can assume that labyrinthos was modelled on elpis (aka the original locus amoenus) thanks to hydaelyn's intervention & her orders to the loporrits

conclusion: ???? everyone is weirdly obsessed with the mysterious and secretive fantasy italy to the point it's literally haunting the narrativeTM and a major reason for the plot to keep moving. and so i'm pretty sure we'll have a corvos-themed expansion soon enough

[crystal-verse]

Day 17 - Sally

[this one is shorter but just. plants. plants are good]

The Crystarium Guard had sallied forth, that day, rushing this way and that, fighting fiercely. The Sin Eater attack had been -- not quite devastating, but still destructive. Buildings damaged, grass and trees and flora all torn up . . . it leaves a mark, on Lakeland. It will take time, to repair, to rebuild. The process is slow, not helped by the chaos of the past month -- the construction of the giant talos, the Exarch's kidnapping, and the realm settling into its new place as the Light has left at last.

Still . . . it is slow progress, slow repairing, but you don't mind it. It's not a lot, pulling up dead trees, carefully planting little seeds into the earth, but it's. . . helpful, you think. It's nice to add little pockets of new life. (You like plants. It's hard to take care of them, some times, but it's nice.)

The work is more tedious than hard, but you're not the only one working on the repairs. There are plenty of other Crystarium residents who spare the time to work on it -- most are members of the guard, really, though there are the occasional members who're simply civilians, or those who live in Lakeland rather than in the Crystarium properly.

(Raha helps too, of course. It is not as easy for them as it is for you -- the crystal hand makes for more difficulty, a slight dissonance between the precision in the two, more stiffness from the crystal -- but they simply smile and say that they do not mind helping you with this project. It reminds you -- Lakeland is his home, too, as much as he has made it yours, and it has been his home for much longer.)

Perhaps you'll start a garden, when you eventually return to the Source. The Rising Stones could use more flora, you think. Some plants would do the place well.

[thungerstorm]

i started seeing people around with new and interesting fishing poles (i have contracted fish madness) (must catch all the fish in the game) (needed a project) (you know how it is) and realized there must be a new step of the crafting and gathering relics at the crystarium. i was correct. back at it again at the krispy kreme, grinding my trophy glamours.

i must make my stance known. i do not enjoy expert crafting.

expert crafting is a fairly recent addition iirc, they added it with the ishgardian firmament stuff in shadowbringers. it's why i never did the skysteel relics (past the +1 skysteel frypan) (it sits shamefully on my retainer forever). too much of a headache. if you don't craft in this game, first, god i wish that were me. second, expert crafting is like normal crafting except they removed poor and excellent conditions and added a fuckton more conditions that all do random shit.

no debuffs. all buffs. cool. all the expert crafts in the game right now are for cosmetic stuff like the water otter fountain and the crafting relics. not needed to progress the game, purely endgame level crafts for turbo nerds. i can get behind this. i understand and support increased difficulty activities for those who are interested.

i also understand that there may be some desires from the devs to remove macros as a fundamental part of crafting in this game. i don't know if i agree with that, but i can understand the motivations behind the sentiment.

and like. i'm still learning. i only just started figuring this shit out today. but yall, it's SO reliant on rng. to a degree where it honestly doesn't feel like i have much control over the crafts. i'm struggling to find the fun. when i'm doing normal-ass crafting, i can see the fun because for me, it turns into dominoes. like where you set it up and then knock them down. it's satisfying to ready the gear, the melds, the food, the juice, the macro, and then watch it go. maybe i'm alone in that, idk.

like, i'm interested in the psychology of game dev as a hobby. when a new system in my favourite game comes out i enjoy studying and rotating it to try and backward engineer what the devs were trying to do when they designed it. i think we all do this to a degree. it's easy to tell what they were trying to do in this case: endgame level stuff for turbo nerds. exactly what was requested from crafting turbo nerds on the forums years before expert crafts were released.

but the nature of the crafting beast in this game is already so toothsome. there's already so much to learn. it's already a fucking ordeal for a new player to get into (but this ain't about them, i know). if there is a way to make endgame-ass endgame crafting more enjoyable, i'm not sure what else could be done. i'm sure rng would have to come into it somewhere, but i can't help but feel like rng is the easy answer, even in an mmo. not difficult to see why they've been having such a time with crafting systems over the years.

also i fucking suck at crafting because it's all MATH, GOD DAMNIT

i don't know if i'll finish my crafting relics, but i'll definitely finish the gathering ones. turns out i fucking love a routine. who would have guessed.