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[aetherolinguist]

She is finally done :D

Between weather, work and initially buying the wrong supplies ( don't be like me, know the difference between wood glaze and varnish) getting the wheel set up took way longer than expected but now I am quite proud of the outcome.

She is an Ashford Traveller 3 if anyone is interested :3

[aetherolinguist]

lizzardbird

[aetherolinguist]

you’re sitting across from me in a shitty diner in anywhere, america, and i watch you pour too much creamer in your coffee and i think “i love you.” you look up, catching me staring, and for a moment i think i’m brave enough to say it, but i take too long and the moment passes. i take the balled up straw wraper and flick it at you, pretending that was my plan all along. you laugh. i never want to go another day without hearing that laugh. i think i will have all the time in the world to say it.

[aetherolinguist]

soulmates but not in a soft romantic way soulmates in a destined to change each other for better or for worse, cannot be who they are without each other, unstoppable together but they’re also the only ones who can defeat each other, equals, existences undeniably tied to each other way

[aetherolinguist]

FFXIV Write - Prompt #4 - Free Pick (”Recite”)

Link about FFXIV Write.

Link to official Prompt.

*Original poem, “Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name” by Edmund Spenser (1552-1599)*

“You may kiss me whenever and wherever you want,” Niamh had promised, laughing, “Would you like me to write it down for you?”

And Galvjn had looked like he might appreciate it, even as he had struck back with the stinger, “Is there a rule on how long you must wait before repeating? I know how Sharlayans love their rules."

He wasn’t wrong about her. She bundled herself up in rules and decorum and manners and pretended that it was her idea, that it was comfortable to be restricted in such a way. And it was, to some degree. And there was a certain skill that had to be respected in learning to express yourself despite the confines society put on you.

There could be great beauty in order and rules. For Niamh, the voracious reader, poetry immediately sprang to mind. A creative work born from twisting language and its conventions to suit the speaker’s raw emotions and needs.

She recalled her classes on recitals and presentations–her public speaking lessons. Required courses for anyone anticipating forum work, or needing to request funding in their future. Her classmates had dreaded the hours spent with her elocution and rhetoric professor, but Niamh had taken to it like an otter to the sea, like a duck to water. She’d stood before her peers, in her element, and recited poetry and it was fun.

“One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away:”

Her final recitation surfaced in her memory, unbidden as her subconscious mind made connections between her past and her present.

“Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.”

Niamh took to her writing desk, practicing her penmanship for a moment before retrieving her good rolanberry inks and a small rectangle of thick, cured vellum.

“"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay, A mortal thing so to immortalize;”

“As of the third sun of the fifth astral moon, under the guidance and blessing of Azeyma Herself, Mr. Galvjn Djt-Setlas, currently of Empyreum, Ward 23, Plot 20 in Ishgard, is hereby authorized and encouraged by to kiss me, Miss Niamh Bivaidonas, Junior Aetherolinguist, Student of Kind Aurochs, formerly of East Journey’s End in Sharlayan, by my own personal and willing consent, whenever and wherever he so wishes and chooses.**”

Niamh waited patiently for the ink to dry, before turning over the little card to add the caveats. “**Permission is assumed barring any malicious motivations, or moments of dubious legality or obvious illegality, save such illegality as is necessary to protect and pursue the greater good for the people of Etheirys, of which we both are included.” The print was immaculate but tiny, and Niamh was pleased. If he didn’t have to squint–if she didn’t make him work to read the whole thing, what was even the point?

“For I myself shall like to this decay, And eke my name be wiped out likewise."”

The thick calfskin that she’d scrawled this out on was stiff and inflexible–really, more like a square of shoe leather than a fine parchment, which suited her purposes perfectly. She wanted this message to last in a pocket, in a wallet, on a walk, in a book–wherever he took it with him, if he liked it enough.

“"Not so," (quod I) "let baser things devise To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:”

“Let baser things devise to die in dust, but you shall live by fame,” Niamh repeated to herself softly, bringing the poet’s words from memory into moment. The little card would not last forever. If she had wanted true longevity, she should have had the message engraved into some sturdy metal and even then, time would take its toll on this gift. Again, that wasn’t the point. The point was–the point was…

“My verse your vertues rare shall eternize, And in the heavens write your glorious name:”

The point was…it was…

“Where whenas death shall all the world subdue, Our love shall live, and later life renew."”

The point was, even in the same breath that this was a very silly gesture, it was still a gesture that took Galvjn’s interests and desires seriously and clearly dictated the terms of her consent. It was a work of language-art almost poetic in its precision and Niamh would be happy to recite it to Galvjn ad nauseam.

[aetherolinguist]

FFXIV Write - Prompt #3 - Temper

Link about FFXIV Write.

Link to official prompt.  

The concept of opposites attracting was very interesting to Niamh. People spoke of it as though it were some great rule that applied anything beyond magnetic forces and little charged lodestones. As though this science applied to Spoken people as well.

How could something that was true of some esoteric-yet-physical science be expected to be true of people, socially? How did that transference of principles in the collective unconscious even happen?

Oil and water did not mix and did not become something better, together. Yet it was a common assumption that children being mean to each other were doing so out of misplaced love, not common, basic hate for another person.

Niamh, then, wasn’t certain how or when she’d learned to embrace the differences in the people around her. Well, for the most part. There were some principles that it was important to stand firm on, if you could. It was a point of confusion and contention in her mind–that she had never bought into the unequivocal assumption that the wilder the difference, the greater the friend, and yet of all the people she knew, of all the Sharlayans she associated with on the island, Niamh was the one who sought out and celebrated differences the most. The same people who made knowing glandoll in her image that they were imagining with love in her heart and not simple competition on the brain– could not accept the different, the other, the outside despite the ideals they constantly espoused.

And so it was with an oblique surprise that Niamh had found herself increasingly besotted by someone so intensely different from herself. Someone she, from the outside, would not have thought she could have any common ground with.

Galvjn was foreign, even by Eorzean standards. He was quiet and reserved and private, where she was loud and exuberant and invasive. He was older and wiser and filled with an enviable, inexorable patience where she was young and inexperienced and could not sit still without something to stimulate her mind. He was–she was—

They were opposites, they were attracted.

They were oil and water in the same glass, entered in a dance not unlike those of the celestial heavens, like the way the moon and Etheryris moved in silent tandem through the aether–making space for each other, but always there. Their actions caused rippling, butterfly effects in each other. The fault of magnetic forces, no doubt.

There was a subtle difference, though, between lodestones skittering away from each other, of liquids of different viscosities refusing to truly mingle and…the two of them. Galvjn and Niamh, in Niamh’s opinion, became something better when they were together.

The outward coolness of the blue-haired viera was like a balm on Niamh’s fiery mind. And when they spoke, she could hear the warmth and gaiety that laced every carefully chosen syllable that he uttered. And when they really listened, sitting in silence together, they communicated more secrets than Niamh was willing to express aloud with look and touch alone.

Galvjn’s proximity tempered Niamh. Not like a primal, or an eidolon, but like a masterful smith. He caught her attention, drew her in, and brought balance to her mind. He assuaged her fears with quiet certainty, but was not afraid to ask questions when clarity was needed, and he never felt the need to say something to fill the silence–so he said what he meant to, when he meant to and that was of some comfort to Niamh.

When the two of them were together, Niamh was more resilient, and able to bend instead of break. Like Galvjn’s support helped sift the chaff of Niamh from the meat of who she really was, helped tune her inner flame to burn away impurities of the self, instead of consuming her from the inside.

It was Niamh’s fervent desire that she could offer the same to him.

[aetherolinguist]

FFXIV Write - Prompt #2 - Bolt

Link about FFXIV Write. Link to official prompt.

It was the wolf or her. That was the choice.

The warm-yet-crisp summer-into-autumn air of the North Shroud bordering on the Coerthan Highlands had sung a beckoning siren song to Niamh since that morning. It was a beautiful day with fair skies and just enough of a breeze that one might need a sweater, but not a jacket.

Niamh wanted to go for a walk.

An unusual urge for the bookworm, who almost always preferred to be cloistered indoors with said books, or good company. The outdoors had bugs, and bugs were bad. But on a day like today, even Niamh felt the urge to feel the sun on her skin and frolic in the grass, or whatever it was that outdoorsy people did. She’d have to ask Galvjn, later.

Bundled up in a sweater and scarf, her breath ever-so-slightly fogging up her glasses, Niamh packed her nouliths in her pink, fat cat patterned messenger bag and headed out from the Teahouse to experience the Outside and lose herself in her thoughts somewhere new, for a change.

And get lost she did. And wandering around looking for the path had only led to a dead end before her and the wolf behind her. A creature with a slavering maw that looked hungry and feral and like it weighed twice as much as her in pure muscle.

Niamh turned slowly, making an effort to make no sudden movements near this apex predator who looked ready to pounce. Examining the small clearing she was trapped in, Niamh saw a small game trail a little ways to the side of the wolf. The animal was still blocking her way to it, but if she could knock it away…

The connection between Niamh and her nouliths flared to life with her fear and the tips of her Sharlayan weapons turned towards each other, focusing unaspected aether into a ball that grew quickly while Niamh stared down the wolf. And then–images of the wolf laying on the ground, bleeding out with a fist size hole bored through it flashed in Niamh’s mind–and she lost the spell. The offensive aether bled away into the ambience from whence it came.

When she became aggressive–and then faltered– the wolf saw its chance and pounced towards the midlander woman, claws sharp, and covered with the muck of the forest floor and whatever previous grisly kill it had committed as part of the cycle of life.

Only just coming back to awareness, Niamh lurched out of the way, gaining a deep gouge in one arm as her gorey daydream cost her precious seconds. But the wolf had miscalculated in lunging at her: it was no longer guarding the little path, the game trail that Niamh so desired. And as the wolf recovered from its lunge, Niamh bolted.

Crashing through the woods with her forgotten nouliths trailing her like little ducklings, Niamh ran down the path, praying she would find civilization before her weak, scholarly lungs gave out. Prayed for a strong wood-wailer to help her, for someone to be able to do what she simply could not: be aggressive.

[aetherolinguist]

FFXIV Write - Prompt #1 - Cross

Link about FFXIV Write. Link to official prompt. A curious cocktail of emotions bubbled up within Niamh. Normally, a negative comment about her Sharlayan heritage would be brushed aside with dignity. She was not proud of being Sharlayan.

At least, not for the reasons most Sharlayans were. As an Aetherolinguist, Niamh had long borne the brunt of the scorn of her Sharlayan peers and her parents for choosing such an unusual and notoriously unfruitful career path. And now, coming to Eorzea, she began to bear the scorn of the native people for her homeland. A homeland that she held very little love for.

It was a complicated situation. They could at least insult her for something that was relevant to something she had done. And while they weren’t wrong about Sharlayans at large, they were wrong about her.

Niamh’s hands reflexively balled into fists before she could do anything but notice. What are you going to do, Niamh? She asked herself in an inwardly scolding tone. Are you going to hit them? Really? You, who can’t bear to hurt anyone or anything is going to hit someone in a moment of anger? Does that sound right?

It didn’t sound right, she agreed with herself, taking a deep breath and relaxing her fists. Instead of decking the person who had insulted her, the hyur smiled politely-yet-vaguely at the instigator, doing her best to look bland and non-threatening.

Even if she couldn’t win, there was no point in breaking her code to prove them right.

[aetherolinguist]

Prompt #3: Temper

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/SxFpwkKPLqnUwAYD9

#FFxivWrite2022 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!

Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access.

Reminder: The 24-hour deadline does not go into effect until September 8th.

More about single word prompts here

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2022 || kofi

[aetherolinguist]

Prompt #2: Bolt

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/SxFpwkKPLqnUwAYD9

#FFxivWrite2022 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!

Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access.

Reminder: The 24-hour deadline does not go into effect until September 8th.

More about single word prompts here

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2022 || kofi

[aetherolinguist]

Prompt #1: Cross

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/SxFpwkKPLqnUwAYD9

#FFxivWrite2022 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!

Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access.

Reminder: The 24-hour deadline does not go into effect until September 8th.

More about single word prompts here

Public spreadsheet to check your entries is coming soon!

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2022 || kofi