eorzeanfool

[eorzeanfool]

“You need to stop.” - Evrard

“You need to stop.”

He keeps his voice gentle. Quiet. Calm. Like soothing a wild beast, which isn’t far from the truth. A part of him hates himself for it, wants to pick Alanais up by the scruff of the neck and shake some sense into him, but he’s intelligent enough to know that wouldn’t help. Even if it would make him feel better.

The Garlean is curled up in bed, facing the wall away from him. He’s been Evrard’s guest for nearly two weeks, reeling from the injuries to his body and spirit. It had been heartwrenching at first, but now it’s just irritating. He doesn’t respond to Evrard’s words at first.

Undeterred, he puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re alive. Are you going to waste what the gods have given you?”

Alanais snorts bitterly. “The gods? They didn’t give me shite. And don’t say my life, because you know damn well I shouldn’t be alive. I don’t deserve it.”

He sucks in a breath, fingers twitching. The urge to slap the man upside the head is briefly overwhelming. “It is not for any of us to say whether we deserve the gods’ gifts or not. Only they can decide that. And you--while you’re alive, ser, you can make amends for what you’ve done under the Imperial yoke. No such chance exists beyond the grave.”

“I--”

A dog barks outside, and Evrard freezes. For the first time, Alanais jolts upright. “Macchia?!”

[eorzeanfool]

“I mean, it’s worked out pretty well so far for me though???”

🌻… a suggestion @ Q'yala

“Hmmm. How to say this...politely...Eirk’a Demau, while I of course recognize your talents in battle, do you suppose it might theoretically be possible for you to, ah...not dive headfirst off every tall building like some sort of imbecile who thinks he’s immortal?!”

[eorzeanfool]

"one chance"

In another world, Evrard Briardionne rides past the tattered, bloodstained man crumpled in the snow, judging him too far gone to help.

In another world, that man never even makes it to Coerthas, cut down by an adventurer’s blade for his sins.

In another world, the illness that takes Evrard’s parents sweeps through the Scholasticate as well, and he dies before ever being ordained.

In another world, Alanais Venditor is never assigned to the XIVth; he rises safely through the ranks in far-off Othard, never questioning his path in life and the rightness of subjugating the savages.

In yet another world, Evrard listens to each sharp-edged word preached in each Mass until his fear and hatred outweigh his calcified heart, and he spares the frozen corpse of a heretic not even a glance.

But in this world, Evrard halts in snow that is rapidly becoming a blizzard, snow crusting his robes, and stretches out a hand to help Alan Vesper to his feet again.

[eorzeanfool]

WoL: what doesn’t kill me makes me real cocky about the next thing that tries

[eorzeanfool]

30 Day WoL Challenge 20: Laugh

It had taken her an entire bell to find Eirk’a Demau in the maze that was Kugane. When she finally did, she had to fight back the urge to scream. She wasn’t sure her voice would carry that far, anyway.

He was really high up. Worse, he was waving at her. “Come on! You have to see this view!”

She stared up at him—fifty feet above the ground, arm wrapped lazily around a support beam and tail coiled around his perch like a drop from that height wouldn’t kill him, Echo or no. “…You’re bloody joking, aye?”

He flashed his fangs in a grin she could see from where she stood. “The climb’s not as hard as it looks, I promise!”

She eyed the decorative molding that wrapped around the spire, which he must have used to make his way up. Some of it had his claw marks in it. “You’re mad.”

“Am not! Come on!”

Honestly, she’d done stupider things in the heat of the moment, and she could probably use her magic to float back down if she lost her grip. And if the view of the city from above was as lovely as he said, it would probably be worth seeing at least once. Sighing, she summoned Garuda-egi and started to climb.

She made it roughly ten feet off the ground before she started regretting her life choices. She made it twenty before she started really regretting her life choices, starting with leaving the Shroud and going through every one that had led her here, in Kugane, trying to climb up the side of Shiokaze Hostelry in the middle of the night. Bloody…swivin’ hells…my arms are killin’ me, Eirs, how do you do this every day?!

A clawed hand reached down and pulled her to a ledge. “Here.”

She immediately flicked his ear. “This had better be the kind of view people write poems over, mate.”

“See for yourself!”

The rest of the climb went much easier when she had help. After another small eternity of aching muscles and suffering, she and Eirk’a sat together near the top of the tower, him leaning against her with his tail curled loosely against her back. It was comfortable here, in the silence.

And the city spread out below them, still brilliant with its lanterns in the darkness. Words failed her.

“…You were right.”

“See?”

She elbowed him. “Wait until Gan gets back from the Steppes and sees this. We’ll never see her at ground level again!” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at the thought; the third member of their squad was exactly the sort of person who’d never stick to the streets if she could jump from roof to roof instead. It was how she and Eirk’a had became friends.

Eirk’a chuckled. “She was the one who showed me!”

“She didn’t. Are you saying someone actually beat you in your quest to be the first to climb every tall thing in Eorzea?!” She was laughing even as she spoke; it was increasingly difficult to retrain her natural squeaks. Sound carried.

He sighed, ears drooping exaggeratedly. “She did. While I was dealing with Hancock.”

Apparently, there was someone even Eirk’a’s Echo-granted gift of empathy didn’t make it any easier to deal with. This time she didn’t stifle her laughter, and it rang out across Kugane.

[eorzeanfool]

30 Day WoL Challenge 16: Hello

It starts off as a day like any other day. For assessors, mornings in Mealvaan’s Gate mean a hasty breakfast, double-checking their assigned patrol routes, and setting off to the docks with their carbuncles. As an aetherophysics student, Ritanelle technically shouldn’t be out on assignment without a senior assessor, but they’re short-handed at the moment—something about a bad stomach bug going around—and so she’s trudging down the pier alone. Her emerald carbuncle trots along behind her, proudly displaying the collar that marks it as a creation of the Arcanist’s Guild.

Her first ship is a tall Lominsan galleon, the crates of cargo stacked neatly on the docks. The captain, a wiry hyuran man with a downright explosive beard, nods politely at her approach. Her gaze is on the cargo.

“This is it?”

He sounds half-asleep. The sun is warm enough that she really can’t blame him. “Aye.”

She pulls out her clipboard, frowning at the unopened crates. “Hmmm…” The ship’s declared two dozen crates of Ul’dahn wheat, and she waves a hand to set her carbuncle on alert. It leaps into action, sniffing around in a sparkling blur, while she tries to figure out if she’s going to need to open anything. It looks alright so far, and she relaxes a bit at a good start to the day. Maybe her streak will hold until her lunch break.

And then the carbuncle freezes, tails slowly rising up as it focuses on an unassuming crate near the back, and she sighs. Well, so much for that. “Sorry, sir, it looks like—“

The crate springs into the air. She has a moment of terror before realizing it’s launching itself behind her, making a break for the rest of the docks. “Mimic! After it!”

The sailors and dockworkers don’t need to be told twice; mimics are more than capable of wreaking havoc anywhere they can camouflage themselves, and the longer they hide the bigger (and hungrier) they get. She’s heard of mimics large enough to swallow a roegadyn whole. Somehow, she finds herself at the head of the furious pack chasing after the bouncing crate, legs pumping and lungs burning as she tries to keep it in sight. Beside her, the captain is hurling some spectacular insults; she tries not to let it distract her as she frantically attempts to pull out her grimoire and run at the same time.

“Get—back ‘ere—ye great bloody bastard!” Her carbuncle is keeping pace with her for now, but she can’t even think of commanding it; if only the mimic would slow down so she could breathe! She prays it’ll head into the alleys. If she can get it against a wall, they have a fighting chance of subduing it.

She sees the flash of sunlight off steel a moment before the knife finds its mark, and has just enough time to stop herself from tripping over the suddenly inert mimic. The miqo’te who springs down from an upper story window to retrieve it is a head shorter than her, dark-skinned and dark-haired, and his face splits into an easy smile as he picks the mimic up. (With his hands. Granted, it’s at arms’ length, but is he insane? Really?)

“…Is this yours?”

She blinks down at him, feeling distinctly wrong-footed. Her heart is still pounding painfully. “Well. Uh. Technically it’s his…I guess…”

Unphased, the man holds the mimic out to the captain—who by now has caught up, and is eyeing them both with a sort of horrified suspicion. “Congratulations, you have a mimic.”

“I don’t want it!” Grumbling, the captain turns to stomp off, leaving Rita looking from him to the miqo’te in despair.

“So…I’ll be leaving that out of my report, then?” Gods, I hope I don’t get in trouble for this. This is gonna look so bad on my grades! He ignores her. “Hey, wait!”

Belatedly, she realizes the miqo’te is looking at her with clear concern, ears twisting this way and that. “Are you alright?”

She’s still a little out of breath, but she’s not telling him that. “Oh, aye. Thanks for that, mate. You’re with the Little Sisters?” They don’t have anything like a uniform or a badge, but after living in Limsa Lominsa she’s learned to recognize the Little Sisters of the Edelweiss by their stance. And their eyes; like every one she’s met, this miqo’te’s eyes are never still, always scanning the area around him.

After a moment’s hovering around her left ear—he probably wasn’t expecting to be marked out—they focus on her. “…Ah…yeah. I am. Name’s Eirk’a.”

“Rita.” She’s sure to bow before he offers a hand to shake; the uniform of an assessor doesn’t include full gloves, and she’d rather not have another attack. She’s gotten good at predicting what will trigger them by now, and unexpected skin contact seems to be a big one. She does not want to ruin a decent first impression by passing out on the boardwalk. Accordingly, she smiles at him. “You free around noon? I’ll buy you lunch, I owe you for that.”

He smiles back. “Deal.”

[eorzeanfool]

“you’re kind of annoying" 

kind of? kind of??? excuse me. excuse you. i am fully annoying. i am very annoying. there’s nothing half-assed half-hearted “kind of” about it

[eorzeanfool]

[eorzeanfool]

Red pandas looking shocked to see each other! https://ift.tt/38cGvMF

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[eorzeanfool]

Odysseus Elytis, tr. by Athan Anagnostopoulos, from “Maria Nephele: A Poem In Two,”

[eorzeanfool]

Lady Iceheart. A god clad in flesh. Heretic.

Another print for AX! Come find me and @did-you-reboot in artist alley i54 please it’s going to be so lonely in the back

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Pacific Northwest Musteloids

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diversed / following back similar

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[eorzeanfool]

sexual tension is out, platonic tension is in. I need enemies who have fought each other so many times that they've developed a mutual fondness, realized they have a lot in common, and have to stop themselves from slipping into friendly conversation when they're supposed to be kicking each other's asses.