#@ magna glacies

[etheirys]

'I've a Garlean heart more pure than the Emperor's,' she tells herself again, a mantra against the lingering looks. Not even the eldest of Garlemald remember the southern climes they were driven from. For her, it's fresh; Bozja is the little ember in her chest the cold cannot reach.

When she slips on her boots and scarf to make for the corner store, she imagines the first Garleans crossing the Magna Glacies eight hundred years ago. They, too, once slept with open windows and no more than a sheet on their bed — how long had it taken them not to cry for their lost homeland? For the sun and the summers? Did they stop once their tears froze on their cheeks, like she had?

In her loneliest hour, their ghosts become her kin and whisper their welcome with every gale wind.

(prelude.)

[mythriteshah]

The Diamond Truth Part 1: Silver’s Promise

The day seemed to go as typical as any other in the Ilsabardian mainland: freezing temperatures, blistering winds, and a whole slew of ruthless fauna looking to make any unfortunate soul their next meal.  Compounding all those worries are the occasional voidsent incursions that have begun to increase in frequency thanks to the involvement of a certain savior from another shard.  But time and time again the people who eked a living out of this region persevered against all that would see them cast off from the world.  And now, with their glorious empire in shambles, the Garleans - whether pureblood or loyalist - face a tempestuous future, albeit made less so with the arrival of the Ilsabardian Contingent and other willing allies to the cause.

It was daybreak, and the skies were clear over the Magna Glacies.  The winds were still and the main highway which led to the capital was currently free of dangerous predators, making it ideal for travel.  So it was that a large convoy of supplies led by Garlean troops began making the long march towards Laterum - what is now also known as Camp Broken Glass.  A platoon of Garlean soldiers (which is essentially a half-century, or 50 troops) from the IVth Imperial Legion arrived from Dalmasca to reinforce the 1st Imperial Legion in the transport operation, which was uncommon to see given the situation surrounding Bozja.  To make things even more peculiar, however: they were blessed with the further company of two particular individuals - garbed in the #55 uniforms worn by the erstwhile XIIth Imperial Legion stationed in Yanxia, which means their faces were completely obscured.

Bringing up the convoy’s rear, the shorter of the two seemed to be an unassuming female Hyur standing at about five-and-a-half fulms, but was distinguishable by her pink scabbard she proudly displayed on the left side of her waist.  The taller one was clearly a Highlander woman by her strong build, but no weapons were seen on her whatsoever; her gloves were definitely not the same tekko that her fellow soldiers would employ, displaying a strange mechanism of levers and magitek.  The others quietly questioned their choice of weaponry - or lack thereof - at first, but given the person who once led them also being an eccentric in his own right (“eccentric” being an understatement), they eventually digressed and welcomed their assistance.

The convoy’s contents seem standard-issue, with the typical supplies and provisions one might expect within the crates, but what caught the two women’s eyes were specially-marked containers of such size that it would require two adult Roegadyn to carry.  Upon closer inspection these containers bore the national flag of Bozja upon its surface, which surprised them both.  The two made eye contact before nodding and made a light jog ahead of the convoy to inquire one of the Decuriae about the contents…

“Excuse me, sir!” uttered the Midlander, slowing down to match the Roegadyn soldier’s pace, “My comrade and I were wondering what exactly is in those crates?”

“Not too sure meself, soldier,” replied the imposing man with a shrug.  “All we were told was that our countrymen were movin’ supplies from Werlyt over to the capitol.  Then we were given orders by the newly-appointed Tribunus Urbanae to join up with the Ist to add this special cargo to the convoy.  But after all the shite that’s happened down south, I’ll gladly spend a turn o’ the sun trudgin’ through snow and ice if it’ll get me away from them stinkin’ trenches…  The Silver Valkyrie’s already livin’ up to her reputation.”

“‘Silver Valkyrie’?” spoke the Highlander with a cant of her head.  “Can’t say I’ve heard of her.  Everyone knows the White Raven and the Black Wolf, but…”

“Aye, but this one’s bound to make a name for herself at this rate,” the Roegadyn decurion continued, “Got her moniker for showin’ up to an otherwise losin’ battle - shield and sword a-gleamin’ - and spiritin’ away the survivors, that they live to see the morrow.  Like somethin’ straight out of a bedtime story!”

The sentiment alone was enough to beggar inspiration from those within earshot, but the idle banter kept their minds off the cold, so several others joined in on the conversation.

“Sir’s right,” spoke an Auri male, “We’ve not seen what she looks like or even who she is, but she definitely fits the description as he stated.  We know, however, that she’s part of the IVth Imperial Legion - or at least was.  Reports said that she was given special recommendation by someone who vouched for her service in recent years.  Now she’s part of the IIIrd Legion, and is helping oversee the public peace.  We’ve even been given orders to assist her in the efforts of rebuilding Garlemald proper as a sort of change of station.  If we’re fortunate, we may even meet her at the end of all this.”

The two XIIth Legion soldiers pondered over this new information, but it all seemed so strange to them that this undisclosed Tribunus would appear so suddenly.  While it was true that some of the legions remained active, it was uncommon for others to provide support from distant theaters as each was tailored to be self-sufficient.  Of course, that would be the case if events did not turn out as they did - the myriad civil wars and the Final Days, not least of all.

The convoy went uneventfully well for some few bells, and it would not be too long before the now-dormant Tower of Babil loomed over the distance.  While it no longer posed a threat to the surrounding region, it was no less imposing to behold for many.  Heartened by the site of civilization, the convoy quickened its march, but the Garlean Samurai halted abruptly, grasping her scabbard with tensed muscles.  As she was now at the van alongside her comrade, the other decurions took note of this and gave a hand signal to hold position, alerting the rest of the convoy.

“What do you sense?” the Highlander asked in a hushed tone.  After a brief moment of concentration, the Samurai scanned the area - nothing seemed out of place, but she felt a disturbance in the ambient aether.  The wind had also begun to pick up in a matter of seconds, unnerving some of the guards.

“We’re not alone out here,” she answered.  “I can feel the aetherial currents shifting… Something’s on its way here.”

“Ahh, bugger it!  Weapons at the ready!  Don’t get caught unawares!” barked the Roegadyn, taking heed of the XIIth Legion Samurai’s words.  “Can’t leave naught to chance; if what ye say is true, then–”

Before the decurion could finish his sentence, an orb of malignant energy flew through the air, blindsiding one of the equites at the rear guard.  At that same instant, a winged creature resembling a gargoyle swooped in and struck at one of the hoplomachii with its claws, disarming it.  Thankfully the convoy did not come without some hardware: a reaper pilot zeroed in on the beast and fired its main cannon at the arc of its turn, blasting it out of the sky before slowly dissolving into a purplish cloud.  This alerted the rest of its ilk as inky tears began forming and surrounding the convoy, unleashing a small host of ahrimans and dahaks.

“Voidsent ambush!  To arms!  You two - protect the supplies!”

“Sir!” acknowledged the two as they hurried to support the guard.  The four-legged beast was closing in fast upon a magitek claw, which dropped the cargo it was holding in reaction to the nearby dangerous entity, and held it back with its outstretched palm.  The seemingly-unarmed XIIth Legion soldier punched her fists together, causing an audible clicking noise to be heard as the mechanism on her gloves was triggered, unleashing a teal-blue aura of water and earth energy around her appendages.  With a mighty leap she would bring her fists forward, spinning in her descent as she became a living drill, puncturing the attacking dahak’s body as she created a breaching wound that would down the beast in a near-instant.  She failed to stick the landing, however, as she fell on her back as she exited its body from the front, chuckling to herself and calmly remarking that the technique needs more work before getting back to her feet.

Her Samurai companion opposite from her, meanwhile, had to contend with a trio of ahrimans who were assailing a small unit of signifers.  With cackling grins, the voidsent’s eyes began to glow a sinister red, channeling a petrifying spell that would render them defenseless.  As the Imperials shielded themselves as best they could, the Samurai slid across the snow, clutching her blade as she closed the distance.  Once arriving between the two engaging parties, she would unsheathe her katana at breakneck speed, the resulting force releasing from its scabbard a tiny storm of… cherry blossom petals…?  That would dazzle and confound the ahrimans, breaking their concentration.  Taking advantage of this window, the signifers gave the order to attack, simultaneously channeling a barrage of fire to incinerate their winged cyclopean foes.  

“Impressive technique, I must say!” complemented one of the signifers - no doubt their leader.  “You must have learned well from Lord Zenos to adopt such deftness with Far Eastern blades!”  The Samurai cringed with a shudder in response, despite the praise.

“Pray never compare me to that…” she began before catching herself.  After clearing her throat, she replied, “I mean, yes.  He was… ruthless, but he had some measure of grace.  [Kami strike me down for giving that madman praise…]”

“Keep it up, men!  We’ll show the Eorzeans we can still hold our own!” ordered the Roegadyn from the front, chopping down a few vodorigas with some effort.  The battle, thanks to the Samurai’s forewarning, seemed to be going in the Garleans’ favor.  Their prior experience against battling voidsent paid off as the bulk of their forces were outmatched by the two XIIth Legion soldiers who ensured the cargo was mostly unscathed.  Just when it would appear that the day would be won, a massive void fissure would appear at the rear of the convoy, and out from it shot several large fireballs which would incapacitate a good ten soldiers and one of the magitek armors.  “Bugger it - what now?!” the Roegadyn shouted in response to the series of explosions.

“Large void fissure, sir!  From the rear!” cried a medicus.  An earth-shaking roar would be heard from said fissure, leaving the convoy shaken with fear.  The cry also appeared to have compelled the lesser voidsent into retreating, taking the most expeditious route back into their respective fissures which left them open to easy attacks from opportunistic soldiers.

“Medicii - tend to the wounded!  Those injured fall back to the van!” ordered the decurion.  He then turned towards the two XIIth Legion soldiers who hurried to his side.  “I hate to do this, but you two are the best we’ve got.  We can’t fail this mission, so I’m afraid this’ll be where we part ways.  Hold off whatever the hells is comin’ outta there long enough for our wounded to be treated!  We’re gonna continue on to Laterum to deliver the supplies!”

“Yes, sir!” they both acknowledged, popping the Imperial salute as they did.  With the plan thus set in motion, the two sprinted at top speeds to face the approaching beast.  The convoy had already resumed its march as the Garleans - ever the sticklers for efficiency - triaged their casualties before joining up with the others as best they could.  Another roar would be heard as footfalls pounded from within.  Out from the void fissure came a large, purple paw which landed with such force as to make the earth tremble.  Another paw would cross the threshold before three snarling maws could be seen - low growls from each as the cold air expelled created a small fog.  Were the two’s mouths visible they would be agape in astonishment as they beheld the foe that now challenged them.

Now coming into full view, the menacing voidsent beast hardly needed an introduction, for it made one of its own as it reared back and gave a mighty swing of its tail, kicking up a great wall of snow that would send the two flying and skidding across the frozen ground.

The convoy was still in view, and the beast was intelligent enough as to not let its prey escape.  Thus it would slowly open its three maws and begin gathering fiery energy within them, preparing to unleash a salvo of flames at the convoy.

“Oh, no…!  The convoy!” grunted the pugilist, trying to get to her feet.  The Samurai wasn’t doing much better, her blade being several yalms away from her after being caught off guard by the powerful tail swipe.  One of the soldiers would notice the beast charging up as he warned everyone to brace for impact.  Even if the Samurai could reach her blade in time before the attack went off, it would avail her little as she and her comrade were not the beast’s intended target.  “If that thing unleashes its flames upon the soldiers, the convoy’s –!”

“Dammit… Get up…!  Get… Up…!!” the Highlander said, groaning with effort.  The snow hampered their movements, atop the damage they sustained from the hit they previously endured.  It was all they could do as they watched and awaited the inevitable…

But a whistle would then be heard upon the wind.  The voidsent beast was nearing completion of its charged attack as it became louder, clearer, until each of the three heads suddenly jerked in random directions, interrupting their individual attacks that each fireball blew up in their faces as a result.  Three arrows with aetherially blunted tips found their marks on each of the creature’s three heads, successfully canceling their fell blast and ensuring the convoy’s safety.  Gasping in awe at this stroke of luck, the two XIIth Legion soldiers looked around for any signs of newcomers.  After a brief moment, a figure would appear within a copse of trees lined with shrubbery: a Veena Viera with hair and skin both white like the snow, who cut an impressive figure within her battlegear befitting an archer from the Dalmascan Resistance.

“Blunt Arrow: just used it!” she declared suavely with a wink.  The beast, angered by the sudden disruption, turned westward, each head snarling and gnashing their teeth at whatever invited its ire.  This served as the ideal distraction for the two soldiers to regain their footing as the Pugilist brought her palms together, incanting a phrase beneath her breath as waves of restorative aether exploded outward, rendering herself and her companion more susceptible to restorative gestures.  The Samurai would follow up on this, concentrating on the aetherial currents via the utilization of Mudra, and drew upon the powers of wind, granting her the alacrity to dash at her weapon and back in a burst of speed before channeling the strength of earth into her blade.  Stabbing it into the ground, an aura of yellowish-green pulsed around them, healing and outright reversing the damage they had previously sustained.

The three-headed canine monstrosity, picking up the third intruder’s scent, began to charge at the copse of trees.  With quick thinking, the Samurai would halt its advance by causing an aetherial blade to skid along the ground, grazing the leftmost head.  This would cause a schism to form as one of the heads now barked at its attacker whilst the remaining two kept their gaze focused on the Viera, who was preparing another barrage of arrows.

It was then that the beast would detect the unwelcome sensation of something tugging at its tail.  With questioning growls, the left and right heads looked behind them to barely make out the image of the pugilist, who had kept the beast restrained with a powerful grip… or so she would think.  With some effort, it would lift its tail up, the helmeted secutor going with it as she would now find herself being flailed around as it tried desperately to shake her off.  

“[You silly Fist of Rhalgr…!]” the Samurai cursed in the Doman tongue.  The Vieran archer would unleash her salvo of Empyreal Arrows, all landing directly onto the creature’s body, temporarily stunning it, which would cause the creature to involuntarily fling its tail upward with great force, sending the hapless secutor high into the air as she exclaimed in fright.

“Whoops…” sighed the Viera, her eyes following the soldier’s body as her ascent continued.

Meanwhile, barely a malm’s distance from the site of battle, another individual would be seen walking ever so slowly along the highway.  Her steps were calculated, moving with  a queer sort of grace that was eerie, yet sinuous.  The top half of her face was obscured in a whitish-blue veil bejeweled with sapphires, her white shoulder-length hair billowing against it in the frigid breeze, and she was garbed in the type of gown one would be seen wearing at a Ceremony of Eternal Bonding.  The outfit was in good condition, save for some tatters along the bottom edges, and she was equipped with a floral Ritter Shield and a single-bearded Sparth.  In her arms she cradled what appeared to be some sort of feline creature with twin tails, petting its snow-white fur and sky blue tail as it rested comfortably, giving off adorably soft cries in response to her affection.  Accompanying her along the ground was a snake that was barely three fulms in length, with pallid scales of greyish-white and green, bearing a spear-like tail that glided along the pavement.

“Dalmasca, home so beloved… Doma, pride of the Far East… Ala Mhigo, citadel of the western mountains… Yanxia.  Nagxia.  Bozja.  Werlyt.  That an empire would sprawl the Three Great Continents in a manner of decades… and in a matter of moons, would see its own nation in shambles.  Such a sad end for Garlemald; the sins of the empire have weighed so heavily upon it, and succumbed to it as a result… We who have perpetuated the cycle of hatred have much to answer for, whether we joined under the ivory standard out of survival, hope for a better tomorrow, or unconditional obeisance… Forgiveness will not be easy to obtain…”

Her tone was soft like a dove’s coo - barely above a whisper; her speech was slow and articulate, and a constant grin was made apparent on her features.  She appeared to have been idly musing over Garlemald’s bloody past that led to its present, but in truth she was speaking to someone else - different from her creature companions…

“I know this well,” replied a female voice ringing in her ear, “for I have dealt with my own fair share of clashing ideals in recent moons.  But I was fortunate to make alliances with the right people, and my view on things far differed from that of those still adherent to the late Emperor’s will.  I’ve a vow to fulfill; a promise to uphold.  And this mission will be a stepping stone towards fulfilling that promise.”

The eerie Hyuran woman chuckled, amused by the sentiment.

“That outlook is why I now serve under you… old friend.  Which is why I – hm?”

Her reply would be cut short as she heard a loud cry echoing in the distance, followed by the silhouette of a person ascending into the heavens.  “Oh… That is in the direction of the convoy.”

“Reinforce posthaste!” commanded the individual.  “The ones left behind to contend with the voidsent are no less vital than the cargo they are escorting!”

Without hesitation, the Hyur nodded, brandishing her axe and letting down her pet, whom would let out a fierce growl as it and the woman would be wreathed in bluish flames; the cute beastkin was no longer such, and instead became a large and majestic saber-toothed feline with ghostly white eyes and blue sclerae, as azure flames danced around her feet and twin tails, bearing the visage of a feline demon or auspice.  At that same instant, the scalekin on her left grew into an impressive ten-fulm cobra, the sword-like tip of its tail now more pronounced and sharp enough to cut steel.  A viscous, white fluid dripped from its silvery fangs and agape maw as it gave off a proud hiss, seemingly happy to be transformed after apparently long bells of travel.

Hopping on the great cat’s back, the eerie Dalmascan beauty pointed her axe forward…

“Shirara.  Sseris.  Kishlek: Your wait is over.  Dinner time…!”

Roaring with renewed vigor, the large cat that was Shirara kicked off from her rear legs to race down the highway, with the scalekin that was Sseris gliding across the snow with alarming speed, gathering the ambient aether around its scaled body as though gathering strength…

The then-unknown third entity - this Kishlek - was in fact a vilekin: a behemoth of a wamoura with body and great wings of white, and antennae, eyes, and proboscis of violet.  With a great beat of its wings it surged forward, taking to the skies to chase after the hapless soldier doing some impromptu Dragoon training.

Back at the site of battle, the three-headed beast would let out another roar, calling forth a venerable host of voidsent blackguards and tauruses - ten of each respectively - to overwhelm and surround the Samurai.  Whilst she prepared herself for the fight of her life, the Viera cursed under her breath and nocked two more arrows, charging up golden energy at their tips to provide more support fire.  Drawing back the bowstring, she would take a deep breath and prepare to loose them upon her foes.  Her concentration was found wanting, however, as something caught the corner of her eye.  Something was fast approaching from up above, and it seemed as though it intended to make an easy meal out of the now descending secutor.

“What now?!” she gasped as she watched the unidentified flying creature make its flight over.  Unexpectedly, it would swoop below the helpless pugilist, catching her on its back as it shook its body rapidly, releasing a cloud of greenish-blue dust, the results of which were made apparent to the voidsent below as it caused confusion sufficient enough for the Samurai to avoid any errant strikes at her person to relocate to a better position - though not without slicing through two of the blackguards in the process.

“Huh?  Am I safe?  Th-Thanks, I guess!” the pugilist spoke to its timely savior, uncaring if it could even understand her.  She would hop off the winged insect once it was safe enough to do so; now descending onto the battlefield, the wamoura would divebomb at and catch one of the tauruses in its clutches, wasting no time to put its proboscis to good use to partake of whatever precious lifeblood it contained.  “Not sure what a wamoura is doing this far north, though…”

Before the XIIth Legion soldier could piece it all together, more sudden arrivals complicated things further.  This time a slender figure was seen gliding along the snow, its body glowing pure white as it made its way towards the three-headed beast, who attempted to strike at it with its massive front legs.  To no avail, of course, as its serpentine assailant proved too slippery, heading straight for the void fissure it was guarding and preened its body, discharging the aether it had gathered in a blast of light which destabilized and ultimately closed it, effectively cutting off their exit and further reinforcements.

Finally, a guttural snarl would ring in everyone’s ears as a mighty feline creature pounced upon the minor host, wildly slashing and biting at the small army that tried to retaliate.  Those fortunate enough to land any telling blow would instead be met with the rebuttal of bluish flames that would scorch at their darkened flesh.  The two soldiers would regroup and join up with the Viera as they watched in awe, and in the distance, that eerie woman in white would be seen - her gait slow yet smooth, and her axe and shield drawn…

“A triple-headed canis dirus…?  Almost like what Master Albeleo had experimented with in Castrum Lacus Lictore…” she mused before shaking her head.  “No, this one is far fiercer… And perhaps a potential addition to my menagerie…”

“A Cerberus,” the voice in her ear corrected, “and another great prize indeed, but I’m afraid it will not be intended for you.”  The woman in white frowned, but maintained her cumbersome approach.

“I will admit I am wounded by this news… but surely you’ve a good reason…?”

“Yes.  I know of only one person with the knowledge and skill capable of controlling such a creature.  The objective remains, but you must now assist in subduing and taming the Cerberus.  It will remain in your care as you await further instructions.”

“Understood…”

“What in the seven hells are these beasts doing here?” asked the pugilist.  She would then notice three glinting objects in the air, heading their way as it came within view.   As she pointed them out to the others, each of them would catch their own individual item, and upon closer inspection, it was…

“A neurolink…?” the Samurai uttered.  “Does she intend to tame this beast?”

“I never imagined she of all people would undertake a task as daring as taming a voidsent, let alone a Cerberus…” the Viera spoke.  The Cerberus was busy contending with the three creatures, now without its void-touched minions to assist them as they had all been devoured or destroyed by their coordinated assault.  Three beasts; three heads; one for each as they worked to wear down the voidsent’s endurance.

“Your aid will be much welcome… Petaldancer.  Twelvefist.  Coldgaze,” spoke the eerie Hyur, now within earshot, raising her voice so that she could be heard.  The three exchanged looks, with the two helmeted women finally taking off their kabuto to reveal Kaori and Himmeya, two of the Higuri Regalia’s Enforcers, which meant that the Viera was none other than Isja.

Knowing better than to question current matters, they refocused and charged at the Cerberus, who had been able to break free from the three creatures’ hold, scattering them in different directions.  Himmeya, adopting the Fists of Wind stance, dashed at the leftmost head to deliver a strong jab at its nose, causing it to respond with a swipe of its paw, to which she would slide under to avoid its attack, and struck at its underbelly with a rapid series of punches.  Growling in pain, it attempted to crush the Hatheliyon Sifu under it as it hopped into the air to perform a body slam.  Ducking out of harm’s way, Himmeya would emerge from the other side, now engaging in a contest of strength with the Cerberus’s left front paw as it attempted to swipe at her.

Kaori was up next, approaching from behind to draw its ire.  Though the beast was intelligent enough to guess where her unseen opponent was with its tail attacks, Kaori was able to avoid or deflect them with her katana, until eventually she would also find herself in a deadlock.  Her Geomancer abilities granted her an edge as the power of earth surged through her, providing improved stability in the form of a yellowish aura.  Isja, redoubling her previous attack, drew her bowstring and released her two arrows, which would then explode and fragment into a volley of golden pinions, resembling a facsimile of the Sagittarius Arrow technique.  The attack would damage the Cerberus a great deal as it was now struggling to stay upright.

Sealing the deal was the veiled woman, who called back her pets with a whistle before bringing her axe head down upon the snowy ground, sending a shockwave of ice that would crash upon the Cerberus from behind, knocking it off-balance, its strength failing it at long last.  Thus subdued, the Angels would each apply their respective collars to each of the three heads, the Allagan mechanism springing to life as it worked its magic to bring the voidsent beast to heel.  Still alive, only weakened, the Cerberus would lie on its belly, its soft panting making tiny clouds of mist.

“Objective complete, madam…” the woman reported.  With the threat now taken care of and the convoy’s danger assuaged, the trio formed a line behind the pacified beast, staring down the eerie woman whom was now seen with her own trio of beasts, poised to strike.  “Shh, shh… Easy, my loves…  Easy… Shh… Now, now… Be calm.”  Obeying the quiet tones of their master, Shirara and Sseris would revert to their normal forms, now sitting before the woman as their gaze was fixed on the Angels.  “I thank you dearly for this –”

“Why are you here?!” Kaori interrupted, hand gripped at her blade’s hilt.  “Your assistance, while welcome, does not absolve you of your deeds in Bozja!”

“Wait a tick, Kaori,” Himmeya butted in, “I still want to know who exactly is this woman before we start the angry exchange of words.”  The Dalmascan Hyur maintained her grin, silently deferring the honor of introductions to the Angels - by which Isja would oblige:

“She is Sylla pyr Kahin: a Dalmascan native who serves under Noah van Gabranth, Legatus of the IVth Imperial Legion that still occupies the Desert Sapphire; an Eschva eccentric even by her own people’s standards, and a Beastmaster whose stomping grounds and eerie mannerisms has earned her the epithet of ‘Belle of the Burn’.”

“So ever at your service…” Sylla replied, culminating the introduction with a low and graceful curtsey.  “Though I must correct you slightly: I have been promoted to the title of sas, for I now serve under my superior’s tribune.  And I must say that we have so dearly missed our fun bouts in the Southern Front and Zadnor…  I truly must thank you for sparing us, Miss Isja.  Miss Kaori, for I had never in my wildest dreams imagined our reunion to be so soon.”

“An eerie Beastmaster of the IVth Legion, you say…?” Himmeya pondered.  “She must know Miss Youmei, then, if she’s from the IVth!”

“You would be correct in assuming this, Master Monk,” Sylla replied again, “for we were quite the team, she and I… and often would we come to blows with Miss Isja and Miss Kaori; the duels we engaged in were naught short of… spectacular.”

Himmeya was definitely intrigued by this knowledge - so much so, in fact, that she was nearly compelled to inspect Sylla’s pets further.  She would only be able to advance two paces, though, until Kaori brought an arm in front of her with a furrowed brow.

“Look, hear me out: she came all the way out here from Dal-bloody-masca Superior for a reason.  Maybe we can convince her into joining us.”

“That is precisely what I intend on doing.”

The voice coming from Sylla’s ear was heard by all present now, as the three Angels gasped, turning their collective gaze towards the woman.

“Wait… Was that who I think it was?” said a male voice.  Turning back around towards the north revealed the Roegadyn decurion with several of the mages from the IVth Legion escort, who broke off from the convoy to ensure the area was secure.  “S-Silver Valkyrie, ma’am!  It’s a pleasure to hear from you!  A-And even Mistress Sylla…!”

“You flatter me, good soldier,” Sylla lightly remarked, tilting her head to the side somewhat as to show embarrassment.  The voice, now confirmed to be the Silver Valkyrie speaking via radio, would speak once more:

“Yes.  This is the Silver Valkyrie speaking.  It was I who sent for the detachment of our own IVth soldiers to assist in the convoy escort; the two XIIth Legion soldiers you see before you are actually Himmeya Twelvefist and Kaori Hanabira of the Higuri Regalia.  The Viera is named Isja, who also serves the same company.  They were to reinforce you to ensure the precious cargo from Dalmasca would safely reach its destination.  Its contents, however, are classified, and under the IVth’s jurisdiction.  The pacified Cerberus will also be added to this, and will be kept under close scrutiny by sas Kahin.  The Angels will be joining you for the remainder of the trip as they are also assisting the Ilsabard Contingent.  Lastly, they are under my protection; should news of any harm or misconduct come to them from our own soldiers, I will personally see to exercising my powers as Tribunus Urbanae.  Is that clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am!” the IVth Legion soldiers acknowledged, popping the imperial salute before calling back the magitek loaders to assist in transporting the Cerberus.

“Shall we get going, then?” spoke Sylla.  “I hear the lord you serve is quite the impressive man - one of power and beauty.  I would be so honored as to meet him one day…”

“You’ll get that privilege in due time, Sylla.  For now, let us proceed with the operation,” the Silver Valkyrie restated.  The Beastmaster and the Angels would fall in before catching up with the rest of the convoy, keeping a close eye on the Cerberus as it slumbered in its subdued state.  

At the heart of Garlemald, a lone figure stood atop a large hill overlooking Laterum.  Clad in silver armor that shone in the sunlight and bearing wings of gold that were displayed proudly behind her.  Her gaze was fixed upon the ruins of the imperial palace, where now stood the Tower of Babil.  So many fond memories rushed through her mind as she ruminated over all that has transpired, but her most puissant of recollections was of a recent event in her career: where she stood proudly alongside many other sons and daughters of Garlemald, all of whom were led by a woman she idolized: the White Tigress.  She was torn when she had to leave her post, having made so many friends in so short a timeframe.  But her home and her people needed her now more than ever, and thus she would be called back to assist in the restabilization efforts as its people would forge a new future for themselves and for their nation.  In her heart of hearts she wanted to be reunited with them more than anything, but with every meeting… comes the inevitable parting.  The woman kept her undaunted gaze upon the tower, shedding a single tear that rolled down her fair-skinned face, her eyes brimming with determination…

“...I still have a promise to fulfill.”

[ravendas-xiv]

A Flame Kindled

(Sanji's first kiss and my first published FFXIV ficlet. Please be gentle!)

“Are you cold, Sanji?”

The red-haired woman’s query was cast over her shoulder on a puff of icy breath as she leaned against the railing that surrounded the compound of the place the Garleans called “Victor’s Spoils”. The foreboding building overlooked the icy plains of Cerulea Ingens in one direction and the looming tower dominating the city of Garlemald in the other. Hyperia kir Quinntus, however, seemed quite unbothered by the frigid temperatures and the snow flurries that swirled upon gusts of wind that seemed to constantly blow across the icy landscape, her form clad in an Imperial-issued coat, thick pants, snug fur-lined gloves and boots.

Of course, she wouldn't be cold, Sanji Oronir thought with no small amount of jealousy as the Xaela huddled upon one of the worn metal chairs set up upon the raised deck overlooking the icy wastes, the frigid winds ruffling his shoulder-length black hair. She was born and raised here. This is probably a mild spring day to her.

As Sanji curled even further upon himself, almost as though to burrow within the heavy coat he’d been issued, he fought to keep his teeth from chattering as he managed to mumble out petulantly, “Of course I am. It’s freezing out here.”

Hyperia turned to furrow her brows at his snappish tone. Sanji had always been one to try and keep up a cheery demeanor, no matter the hardship. For such obvious irritation to slip through in his tone, he must have been truly suffering. Offering a sympathetic smile, she gestured to the faint path worn in the snow that led back to the Ilsabard contingent’s home camp, the border gateway town that had been had deemed “Camp Broken Glass”, but that she knew as Laterum.

“You could’ve gone back with the others, you know.”

Sanji’s gaze followed her gesture to fix briefly on the faint welcoming glow of the distant aetheryte…and the reminder of the warm cots and hot food that awaited them there.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone here”, he murmured quietly, regretting the words even as he uttered them. He knew how much she hated feeling “coddled”, but instead of offering a brusque retort, Hyperia pushed from the railing to settle in next to him on the bench, leaning her back against his arm.

It took every ounce of willpower for Sanji not to slide an arm around her, wanting to avail himself of the added warmth she offered, instead choosing to rub his hands together briskly, silently appreciating the thickness of the fur-lined gloves they had been issued.

For several long moments they remained this way, together just watching the faint hazy glow of the sun as it began to settle behind the rugged peaks of the Magna Glacies, until Hyperia’s voice quietly broke the calm, “What’s wrong? Aside from the cold, that is.”

Another long stretch of silence drew out between them as Sanji mulled over the answer. Ever since they had departed Ala Mhigo and headed into the icy wastes of Garlemald, they had been forced into close quarters, nearly everyone huddled together for warmth, during the first few days here before Hyperia and the other technicians could get the heaters working again. Not that he was complaining, but he knew there was a part of her that still mourned her failed relationship with her former betrothed. A relationship that he’d had a hand…though inadvertently…in ending. Though he was astute enough to realize at the time that her former lover had written her off long before Sanji had ever entered the picture, the younger Xaela's presence had apparently offered him the perfect excuse to finally cut her off for good. It mattered not that Sanji had saved her from a fiery death and had done everything in his power to deliver her safe and whole back into the man's arms...only to have him accuse her of running away to have some illicit secret affair with him. He had watched her heart shatter at the rejection and the accusation...and felt his own twist in sympathy even as she had thanked him before sending him away. Though he would not admit it to himself at the time, he had come to admire her deeply…her strength, her stubbornness, and her intelligence. She didn’t deserve to have all of that crushed and tossed aside by someone who had found those qualities to be a threat to his ego. And so, when they had found themselves unexpectedly reunited for this expedition into her homeland, Sanji had vowed to do whatever he could to support and help her nurture those qualities again. But how could he tell her that what had once just been “friendly support” had begun to bloom into more? He knew she’d always thought of him as more of a “little brother” than anything else. Did she still feel that way? He really didn’t know.

“Sanji?”

Her gentle query stirred him from his thoughts, and he turned to see her eyeing him with a mix of concern and faint amusement. Even in the bitter cold, Sanji could feel his cheeks warming under her scrutiny. “I…I’m um…sorry”, was all he could manage to stammer out as he flicked his gaze away from hers, feeling the weight of that golden-hued stare upon him.

“For what?”

“For everything”, Sanjit muttered as he began picking at a stray thread that had begun to unravel from the forefinger of his left glove. “It’s all a mess and it’s my fault. You should be back home, planning a wedding, not here in the freezing cold, dealing with all of this.” As he felt her tense against him, then abruptly pull away, Sanji couldn’t help but wonder if she’d sensed the lie in his words…that he was glad she was away from all that and here with him. But was it where she wanted to be?

“Sanji…”, he turned as she spoke his name once more, an unexpected tenderness underlying the firm tone that forced his gaze back to hers, to find she’d shifted to face him, a gentle smile upon her lips as she lifted a gloved hand to lay upon his cheek. “That is not something for you to be sorry for. Is it your ‘fault’ that I escaped a relationship that was falling further into ruin by the day? Is it your ‘fault’ that I am finally able to return to my homeland and offer what aid I can to them? Is it your ‘fault’ that, despite everything, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in many moons? If so, then accept the blame…and my thanks. Because you are honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Sanji felt a numbness take over his body…and not from the cold, his tongue thick as he tried to form a reply only to have the words stick in his throat. For a long moment all he could do was stare incredulously at the woman who had unexpectedly taken over his life and heart, as he tried to reconcile the affection he saw reflected in her eyes. “Truly?”, he finally managed to utter, the word a faint whisper, “You mean that?”

“Every word”, she replied in a tone that was somehow both tender and fierce before she closed the distance between them, her lips claiming his.

At the unexpected kiss, Sanji froze, his mind awhirl. She was kissing him…and not the chaste kiss of a friend or “big sister”, but something passionate and almost desperate. Though kisses were not a normal part of Xaelic affections, he had witnessed enough of them between the other races to understand this. However, never having been kissed...or having initiatied one himself…Sanji had no idea what he was supposed to do. There was a puckering of lips, he knew this, but Hyperia’s seemed to cling and move softly against his in a manner his mind raced to understand the subtleties of.

But as soon as he’d finally mustered the courage to try and replicate it, he felt her pulling back, leaving a sort of void that he ached to fill. Blinking as he fought to catch his breath, he noted the flush that colored her cheeks and the defeated look that flickered across her face before she turned away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”, Hyperia murmured, now her own hand dropping from his face to clasp with the other upon her lap, her demeanor seeming to crumple beneath the weight of her…disappointment? Embarrassment?

“Oh Nhaama, does she think because I didn’t return it, that I don’t feel the same?”, Sanji’s mind raced in panic. She’d been hurt so much…faced so much heartache and disappointment. To see her starting to sink back into that again, he just couldn’t…

“Hyperia…”, this time he did slide an arm around her, drawing her back to him, though the tension in her body was still there, no doubt interpreting the gesture as merely a friendly one to comfort her. “Hey…”, gently he cupped her cheek in his palm, turning her to face him once more”, “Maybe you shouldn’t have, but…I’m very glad that you did.

He saw her eyes go wide in surprise for a split second before he closed his mouth upon hers, hoping to imitate the passion and need that she had conveyed through her kiss. Though most of his concentration was focused on the softness of her lips against his and the electric sensations that seemed to shiver up his spine at the way they clung to his, he thrilled at how her body seemed to meld against his, and the quiet moan that vibrated from her. As his hand dropped from her cheek to entwine around her waist and pull her even closer, Sanji felt the tip of her tongue gently probing at his lips. Almost as through pure instinct, his lips parted to allow her in, his own tongue lightly dancing with hers, a soft, contented rumble echoing in his chest.

He had no idea how long they remained like this…it seemed both a blessed eternity and an all-too-fleeting instant before they eventually parted, their breath misting in the cold and mingling together before dissipating into the chill air. As Sanji’s eyes finally opened and found her face once more, a surge of relief and joy overtook him to see that the defeat that had clouded her features before had since fled, replaced with eyes shining with affection and unshed tears.

Considering Hyperia’s aversion to showing any form of weakness, Sanji never ceased to be amazed at how many times he had seen the seemingly-indomitable woman cry. Though initially it was mainly from frustration, rage, and despair, she had slowly started to allow herself to open up a bit more in his presence and Sanji couldn’t help but be honored by her trust. While the rest of the world saw her as a stubborn, callous, often-abrasive woman, he had begun to see the vulnerabilities that laid beneath the mask she had forced herself to don to protect her wounded heart, mind, and body.

As a single tear slipped free, he caught it on his thumb, tracing it gently over the line of her cheekbone. When Hyperia leaned into the touch with a quiet sigh of contentment, Sanji pulled her closer, resting his forehead to hers. “Are you…was it okay?”, he murmured hesitantly.

Hyperia brows shot up, mirroring the amused, yet surprised expression she wore at his query. Taking his hand in hers, she chuckled quietly, “Was that…the first time you’d ever kissed someone?”

Sanji’s face went bright scarlet, his eyes flicking to their conjoined hands, “Was it that obvious?”

“No…well, maybe a little. I just…when you didn’t return it, I thought maybe I’d…overstepped.” As she spoke, her thumb slid lightly over his knuckles, her lips pursed.

Lifting her hand to his lips to press a light kiss upon her fingers, Sanji sighed, “I’m sorry. It just…it took me by surprise. I never realized you felt this way. I always thought I was just a friend…a ‘little brother' to you’”

Hyperia let out a quiet snort of laughter before nestling against him, her head coming to rest upon his shoulder, “That’s what I told myself…told everyone. You were…are a friend, probably the first and only true friend I’ve ever had. But after that day…when you saved my life”, she sighed, eyes closing at the memory, “you just…it’s like you opened my eyes to what friendship, caring and love was supposed to be. Not what I’d been settling for all that time. But after everything that had happened before, I...I was scared to open my heart again. So I thought I could convince myself that what I felt was just a...platonic affection and nothing more.”

With a sigh, Sanji settled his chin atop her head, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry. I hate that my presence made things difficult for you.”

There was a sudden tug on his horn as Hyperia fixed him with a stern glare, “Stop it. Your presence is the very reason I'm here, alive and breathing. I was a stupid, lovesick fool back then, but still not so much of one that I would've rather died than go through all of that. Besides, all of that just served to show me what his true colors really were.” As Sanji’s expression fell with contrition, her own demeanor softened, “And how many times have you told me to stop dwelling on the past? So maybe…take your own advice, eh?”

“Yes ma’am!” Grinning, Sanji pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before turning at the sound of footsteps crunching on the icy ground. Both tensed, attempting to untangle themselves from each other as the familiar figure of Maxima quo Priscus and a pair of soldiers from the contingent, all bundled against the cold and looking about the area warily, climbed the stairs onto the deck.

“Ah, there you are…”, the Garlean Populares breathed in obvious relief, “When you didn’t return with the others, we began to worry. But…”, Maxima smiled, his lavender eyes twinkling with knowing amusement at the pairs flustered state, “I see we needn’t have done so. However, night is falling, as are the temperatures, so you’ll want to start heading back sooner rather than later.”

Sanji blinked, turning his attention the horizon where the sun had finally sunk beyond the mountains, “Oh Azim…I was supposed to help with the dinner this evening! Esugen is going to have my hide!”

Laughter echoed through the gathered group as Hyperia offered Sanji a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll understand, Love.”

A little thrill raced down Sanji’s spine at the endearment, his arm sliding over her shoulders to guide her towards the trio awaiting them, “We received a shipment of rolanberries in from over the border and I was going to make pie. I suppose I still have time if we hurry.”

“And if not, that’s all the more for you, right?”, Hyperia winked as the younger Xaela let out an indignant huff, swatting her lightly in the rear with his tail. “I wouldn’t be that selfish…maybe.”

Once more, laughter ran out across the icy plains as the group made their way back towards the relative warmth and shelter of the camp, whilst Hyperia and Sanji basked in the warmth their newfound relationship had kindled….

[blackestnight]

While most prefer avian mounts, Hanami opts for motorcycles instead—her G-Bike is a Garlond Ironworks special, a one-of-a-kind combat bike developed in collaboration with Cid (much to his chagrin; Hanami’s rough handling meant that the first half-dozen models met tragic ends in the scrap heap. Her response to his pleas to stop crashing into walls or driving off cliffsides was to suggest he “Build better shit.”) On top of the buit-in weapon mounts and the option for hands-free steering (using pressure sensors under the handles to allow the rider to change direction with the knees), it’s faster and sturdier than even the best-trained chocobos, which allowed Hanami to use it to run down warmachina and blasphemies alike on the flats of the Magna Glacies. However, due to the monstrously heavy chassis and extensive customization to make it viable for mounted combat, the G-Bike isn’t feasible for mass production, or for transport across rugged terrain.

The Garlond GL-II, by comparison, is both smaller and cheaper to manufacture, being specifically designed for off-road driving across treacherous wilderness. Cid stripped the concept for the G-Bike down to its barest bones, then gave it a lighter frame for agility and control in order to create a vehicle meant for adventurers and civilians to get around the furthest reaches of the realms (at Jesse’s behest). While Hanami doesn’t get as much use out of it as she does her combat model, she enjoys using it to zip through the Thavnairian jungles or the rocky hillsides of La Noscea on leisure trips.

[snakeofgarlemald]

❄💋

Send me ❄💋 for our muses to kiss in the snow.

Even bundled up in the snow, Menenius had to at least agree that this weather wasn't the deathly cold of the Magna Glacies during the worse of the weather, nor was it Coerthas' unusual snowy weather, this was at least tamed in comparison. But breathing out as he watched his breath get taken away by the air, as a child he loved the weather to a point but now that he was older..... he was starting to get behind the idea of an all warm location. Definitely would need to tell Lyon that he would be right...again. But with the snow falling all around them as they had been searching for a tree, he had been lot in thought as he bumped into Lyon, blinking as he could see the other was worried about him in this weather.

But apparently something worked in that brain of his, usually a good idea or two, and next moment, he felt the elder kissing him as okay, this took his mind off of the weather and he did feel surprisingly warmer as the kiss went on for a bit longer before parting. Being asked if he was better, Menenius nodded before a softer smile emerged onto his face.

Perhaps the snow wasn't so bad after all as long as he had the hyur with him.

[autumnslance]

Metal Gear Scion

"We're in Garlemald!"

(Technically IC, Dark & C'oretta did accompany WoL Aeryn to Garlemald. Also Behemoth Heir minion FTW as Violet's winter weather model. Violet did NOT go to Garlemald IC, however, she stayed with Iyna elsewhere.)

I really love the intro to Garlemald and the long duty for it. Everyone gets a good moment in the battles to protect the caravan or to face off with Vergilia; A-Ruhn, Emmanellain, and Sicard command their units well, holding off the hexadrone with axes and sheer Marauder stubborness. Then we get Pippin showing he is his father's son and unleashing Tizona's fiery power, and Sadu gets to show off her Ritual of Falling Dusk.

Magnai gets to be the butt of the joke as Cirina ignores him to gush over Sadu. Sorry, Sun Bro.

The Scions get their moments, but this is Thancred's show. Despite having Maxima, Rostik, and other elite members of Lente's Tears and the Bozjan Resistance, he "lone wolf" stealths into the supply depot for one of the more fun solo missions in the game.

Seriously, slightly more of this, slightly less of the "sneakily follow a target" quests please. Variety is good and this is the only mission we get like this so far. I actually did worse on it my second playthrough, due to impatience--fitting, as I was on Aeryn--but this time, I took the time to play in Gpose and also took my time in the stealth mission. There's more than enough time to get through the depot, cutscenes, and then the combat duty.

The stealth mission almost makes up for not getting a single accompany quest with Thancred (yet). Everyone else and the beavers, sometimes more than once, but not--

*the blogger is handed a bowl of chocolate ice cream as mollification...and incentive to get on with the post*

Anyroad. We actually have to do one of the side quests to do get the original name of this little town on the capital's outskirts; it was Laterum, but the Eorzeans call it Camp Broken Glass, thanks to the sound of shattering, crunching ice underfoot.

Emet-Selch gets a particularly long introductory narration here, in three parts; the first is a short bit as we travel by air to the Magna Glacies. The second, about the Garleans driven to this hard land, sounds arrogant and angry, harsh in its delivery. The third focuses more on Solus's rise to power, sounding more smugly amused. At least until the end.

Emet-Selch: Ilsabard…divided in twain by a vast mountain range. Those who would traverse its jagged peaks face peril at every step. But why go by foot when one can simply fly? On the outskirts of the Imperial capital, in the frozen wastes of the Magna Glacies…The winds howl in icy protest, as if to warn against further trespass…

Emet-Selch: “So cold and unforgiving.” Thus spoke Emperor Solus as he gazed upon his barren domain. Eight hundred years it had been since the Garleans first set foot here. Bested by the Corvosi after centuries of war and driven from the fertile southern pastures into the blasted northern wastes. In that garden of desolation, they clung to one another for warmth. Freezing, hungry, desperate. Hated. The chosen forsaken.

Emet-Selch: In the year 1513 of the Sixth Astral Era, a young legatus named Solus single-handedly sparked the magitek revolution. How did he conceive the machina that feed on ceruleum? Once a common, soft-spoken soldier—how had he so quickly ascended through the ranks? Like so many others, those who knew the truth are gone. Taking in the capital with his eyes for the first time, I recall thinking to myself…”Far colder on the earth than in the heavens.” Yes, far colder indeed…bitterly so.

[snowbird-down]

Prompt 27: Hail

Contrary to popular belief, Garlemald had a plethora of seasons.

There was Winter, of course – that was the easy one. Winter lasted about six months on average or, if you were really unlucky and got a wet year, closer to eight. It took about a week for Winter to start and somewhere in the vicinity of two months for it to end.

Those two months were called Brown. It was a period of time where the chinooks came in over the Magna Glacies and melted all the snow but it was still freezing balls outside, so nothing dared to grow yet. The grass was flat and dead, the trees pallid and skeletal, and the city caked with dried mud from back when the snow was melting. It still snowed occasionally during Brown of course, usually right after you washed your car to rid it of corrosive road salt, just as the occasional fuck you. Brown also returned for two weeks at the end of Autumn, which itself lasted two weeks, which was all the time it took for the trees to panic and ditch their leaves before the first snows fell.

At last, came Spring. Spring also lasted two weeks. That’s when the vegetation all around exploded into life. Green unfurled and flowers bloomed and it pissed rain like the end of the world.

After Spring came Construction. Construction lasted the two and a half months when everyone else was having Summer, wherein the crews would descend upon the city with their magitek en masse and hurry to repair all the roads and rails from plow damage before it started snowing again. New buildings also went up at this time, so with the end of Winter also came the end of sleeping in, as every crew started bright and early at 6AM. Learning which roads were closed on any given day was a constant game of discovery, especially downtown where the answer was typically “half”.

But there was another part of Construction that made it an especially lively month.

“Ooooh.” Marcus grimaced as the fist-sized hail stone smote Dad’s car, crumpling the hood in. They’d all gathered in the window to watch the storm, but apparently were just in time to witness a murder instead.

“That’ll buff out,” Dad said.

In response, a second stone obliterated the windshield.

“That won’t,” Laelia replied.

[the-littlest-kojin]

If you want a prompt, I’m tossing out liht and Monroe caught in a snowstorm

Ilsabard was a freezing hellscape at the best of times.

During winter, it felt like Menphina herself was gazing down upon the travelling pair - and was angry.

"How are you not freezing?" chatters Monroe, her arms tight about her body as the snow swirls.

Surrounded in a cloud of steam as the blizzard pelts her mostly-bare skin with snow, Liht shrugs and continues to try to shift the bits of fallen stone - the remains of some outpost on the Magna Glacies, likely - into some kind of shelter for the pair.

"Had a fling with a snow spirit once. This isn't too different. Bleeding hells, she would be useful now."

Watching the taller woman finish making a crude structure and hurriedly crawling into it - barely big enough to fit them both, but out of the biting wind - the hero breathes into her cupped hands, husbanding her warmth carefully. "A snow spirit? I don't believe you."

As Lihtbryda joins her in the enclosed space, the difference in temperature is immediate and shocking. Watching the mercenary take the metallic bits of her scant armour off and letting them fall to the ground, the Warrior of Light edges closer.

"No joke, a snow spirit. Body made out of snow and everything. Could make the weather jump rope for her, too."

Scoffing in disbelief, the Viera gets to work lighting a fire - taking her four tries in the sight eddies of wind that work themself past the stacked stone, but eventually managing it.

"You should rest, little bun. I'll keep watch. Not that it's likely to be needed - these kind of storms generally last a couple days, minimum."

Feeling her eyelids already starting to droop from the warmth, the engineer tries to protest, even as sleep slurs her words. "Don't call me... Lil bun..."

"My apologies. We can talk about it when you wake. Rest."

And then, blackness claims the hero, slumping against Liht's biceps.

[tahri-nhupuju]

I do genuinely love how every FFXIV trailer lies to you in some way or another.

Like, unless you played in 1.0, the characters in the ARR trailer just fucking die.

Heavensward shows what appears to be Hresvelgr attacking Ishgard, when he's the number one anti-"attacking Ishgard" dragon.

Stormblood shows the WoL fighting Garleans in Kugane. Where you're not allowed to fight anyone and Garlemald has an embassy. (Bit of a stretch, but bear with me)

Shadowbringers takes this to the next level by straight up showing you shit from an ALTERNATE TIMELINE! Like iirc this trailer dropped pre-4.55, so the trailer starts with you beating Elidibus at Ghimlyt, and then you get to that scene and YOU LOSE!

Finally, Endwalker goes HAM on this by showing a scene set in la noscea starring the WoL, but it actually takes place in the magna glacies and stars G'raha instead. It also shows the WoL fighting Terminus on the moon, when the Final Days never spreads there. Not to mention the fucking logo isn't even the fucking moon!

I unironically love this to be clear. The overall arc and vibe matches and it keeps you on your toes.

Plus it's fun going back and spotting the differences.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #29 - Fuse

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under cut.

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

The storm was a vicious one.

Nights in Garlemald were so cold that one could hardly call them pleasant but this one seemed to fling all its fury into the teeth of the Broken Glass encampment, with a wind so fierce it shook the windows and blew debris into stone walls, and knocked several outdoor pavilions askew. Even the most stalwart of the Ishgardians had fled into either the infirmary or the command pavilion.

Vahne supposed the streets would look as eerily deserted as they had upon the contingent's arrival, had the streets actually been visible. All she could see out the thin panes of glass - radiating a cold that no heater could dispell - was a wall of white.

Most of the time the infirmary was deathly quiet save the loud moan or scream but just now it was alive with the bustle of a moving camp. Grand Company soldiers and steppe warriors and Resistance officers filed in and lifted bed frames and rolls alike, helping conjurers and chirurgeons make room for those seeking shelter.

Something shifted in her peripheral vision and she startled, suddenly enough to make the tray in her hands jump and one of its contents rattle alarmingly. She felt quite foolish when she turned to look and saw only a tall Xaela man helping an Ala Mhigan in a snow-dusted fatigue jacket to haul one of those ceruleum-powered heaters from the pavilions into the room.

Thank the gods, finally!

At their back stood Ser Lucia Junius, commander of Ishgard's Temple Knights. The woman's gauntleted hand lifted, pointing to the corner closest to Vahne and her patient, and she was saying something to the two men that was just barely out of earshot. If Vahne listened very carefully maybe she could...

Her ears swiveled forward even as she pretended to busy herself with the tray.

"...should have enough fuel to keep these running through the storm," Ser Lucia was saying, a frown knitting her brow. The tall, beautiful Ishgardian knight was possibly the most formidable woman Vahne had ever met. She spoke even less than Aurelia did but her presence managed to fill a room regardless of her reserve, and her voice - quiet and even as it usually was - always held the air of unquestioned command. Her men all deferred to her without question, as did most of the contingent. Even that loud black haired noble boy who was always picking fights with the pirates. "We'll want to make certain the airships and tanks are secured. The last thing we need is for all our fuel to be scattered across the Magna Glacies because of these straight-line winds."

"Ma'am, I don't know that there's room for the crates in here," the Ala Mhigan man said, expression openly apologetic. "There's barely room for us and the heaters as it is. Could we not draw them up next to the building and lash them down with rope, or summat? On the leeward side?"

Ser Lucia crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the floor in silence, clearly puzzling it through. "We'll secure the crates outside against that lamp post," she said at last. "Bring three tanks inside for each location and three days' supply of rations. A-Ruhn-Senna will make it work."

"Yes'm. What about the other units? Across the plaza?"

"Relay the order to the others by linkpearl. Do what you can to shield the rest of the supplies from this wind, but make sure you take partners and don't stray from each other's sight. And don't attempt to cross the plaza. It's too dangerous right now."

She didn't sound particularly concerned about the storm, in all honesty, but it was probably for their benefit. Ser Lucia had lived here once and then in Coerthas so Vahne had no doubt she was used to weather like this and knew just how nasty it could get. She couldn't even see to the street from here and that wasn't exactly encouraging but she figured her job was to help keep the patients safe and comfortable.

Having decided to leave the matter in the other woman's obviously capable hands she turned her attention back to her patient. As they were currently short handed the chirurgeons had shown her how to change out the bag hanging on that little metal stand next to the bed when it started running low. Vahne was not a little fascinated to have found out that it was... not food exactly, but it was doing something to sustain him while he lay comatose, and that was the important part.

As always Vahne kept her eye on him while she worked, looking for any change at all. These last two days he had started to make small sounds in his sleep and she was quite sure she'd seen his fingers twitch against the coverlet a time or two, but she still wasn't certain the latter hadn't been a trick of the light. So she hadn't reported it to A-Ruhn-Senna. Not yet.

A sudden gust screamed around the warehouse and rattled the glass in the windows.

The lights flickered overhead. She heard alarmed cries from the other room, and someone a few fulms away muttering curses-- one of the two men who'd brought in the heater. The Xaela had excused himself, and the Highlander was struggling to get the heater working. There was a tall, thin man in the blue and white of the Garlond Ironworks now alongside him; Vahne hadn't seen him come in.

"We've got to get the pilot light going," he muttered. "Before it gets worse out there."

"You would think the Garleans would have better ways to deal with this weather."

"I don't think there's really much dealing with it, unless by 'deal with' you mean 'survive,' " the engineer said with a shake of his head. "It's the same in Coerthas. The weather is what it is and you do what you can to live, and in a storm this bad all bets are off."

"Odd that you lot can't get the lights on in the buildings. I thought I saw a fuse box near the door."

"Aye, and without knowing where the power grid for this town is located those boxes might as well be wall hangings for all the use they've been, mate. Our generators on the other hand... now if aught happens to them, we'll--"

I'm not going to listen to this anymore. No sense in worrying about problems I can't help solve, she told herself.

Her patient, of course, had nothing to say, still locked in slumber two days after his last tempering treatment. His still, drawn features -- the blue-black hair and long sooty eyelashes that flickered against his cheeks, the prominent nose with the slightly curved slope from its bridge -- had become a familiar sight to her over the past handful of days. What surprised her was how young he appeared to be, despite the marks of rank she'd seen on the sleeves of his heavy military coat (now tucked and folded neatly in the small box by his bed along with the rest of his uniform).

Vahne gently picked up his hand and winced. Cold as ice, and his fingertips were red.

Close proximity to the window had worsened the chill in this corner. She set it down on the mattress and reached for the fur-lined gloves in her pocket. They were warm, she noted, as she slipped them on with a relieved sigh.

With another glance at the blind white of the blizzard outside she wrapped her two hands about his fingers and started to rub as carefully as she could. She didn't want to hurt him on accident but perhaps the friction would help. Until the engineer got the heater in this corner working, there wasn't much else she could do but at least she could keep the poor man from getting frostbitten while he lay senseless.

"Hells," she grumbled after a few minutes of it. Her arms were starting to feel strain from the effort and his hands didn't really feel much warmer than they had been when she started.

A frown knitted her brow as her eyes scanned the room. Aside from the men setting up the heater most of the people in here were patients who had been moved from the other side of the partition and the small handful of chirurgeons and conjurers weaving their way through the makeshift ward. The people in the middle of the room appeared comfortable enough-- as much as it was possible to be in a field hospital in the middle of Frozen Arse-End, Ilsabard, at any rate. She could probably get an extra blanket from someone over there.

All of a sudden there was a sharp, bright sound like a snap and the room was plunged into darkness. Startled shouts erupted from the other room.

"What happened?" That was Ser Lucia.

"Blown fuse," someone else called- one of the other Ironworks folk, Vahne supposed. “We've been running the bleedin' things nonstop, 'twas bound to happen sooner or later.”

“I assume you’ve parts on hand to repair it.”

“Aye, Commander, we’ve spare parts on hand. It’s a simple fix. Half bell at the outside."

The rest of the conversation wound onward, and amidst the orders and the rising sounds of restlessness from the other end of the building, Vahne tried to think while she held that limp, chilled hand. Keepers had good night vision and the dark that impeded everyone else's ability to move about posed no particular problem for her. The engineer and his... assistant? had found a tiny light somewhere, maybe that penlight thing like Aurelia had, so they could keep working on the malfunctioning heater, but in the meantime she had to do something to warm her patient up again.

Sighing, she gently squeezed his cold fingers, then patted the back of his hand. "It's bloody freezing over here. I'm going to go get you another blanket," she told him. If this doesn't work I'll just... I don't know, I'll try and see if my gloves will fit him or something. I can go without them for a little while.

Vahne moved to stand up.

The cold fingers draped over her palm spasmed, then gripped hers in an answering squeeze.

[high-and-away]

FFXIVWrite 2022, Prompt #1: Cross

The Magna Glacies stretches into frost-bleached eternity ahead of her.

So do the dead.

Burned-out hexadrones, treads locked in churns of once-broken ice. Reapers and predators, tilted and blasted away at the knee or ankle, fallen cockpits scorched and smoky. The occasional juggernaut, brought to earth by luck or malfunction.

But above all, men, an endless scattered sea stabbed or slashed or shot or burnt, frost blooming on armor and locking the fur on coats and ushankas into stiff glassy spikes, torn flesh leached of color and bloodstains black in the cold.

Above her the distant tower, piled skyward like a barbed and twisted spine.

Below her, the gory aftermath of Garlemald tearing off its own head.

Victoria spurs her horse into a gallop and rides on towards the end.

[magitekhearted]

It was cold, as always, with malms of snow as far as the eye could see -- but Menenius expected nothing less of his homeland. The bitter chill was a welcome sensation as it cut across his cheeks and stung his eyes. After months in the arid deserts of Dalmasca, and the stale wastelands of the Bozjan southern front and Zadnor, he had secretly longed for this cruel and unrelenting weather.

His home: Garlemald. Tentatively speaking, anyway.

The former Tribunus had heard the horror stories of the capital's state, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing it with his own two eyes. The collapsed buildings and piles of rubble where houses had once sat, now only skeletons of the city that had once thrived, and of a society that had been suddenly and inexplicably silenced. Beyond the whistle of the wind and the rattle of rogue magitek units, there was nothing, nothing except a deathly quiet and stillness amongst the streets.

He wondered if things would have been different had he gone against Noah's wishes and ordered the IVth Legion to return here.

Lyon had been perfectly clear that they must keep their distance, lest they gain the attention of the now-leaderless sentries. The Elezen noble had no intentions of arguing -- if his scrape with death at the hands of the Diablo Armament had granted him anything, it was a newfound wariness of sentient magitek. But above all else, the imposing sight of what had become of the imperial palace kept him at bay. It was, in a word, intimidating.

"Hey, boy," the familiar gruff voice of his companion yanked him out of his thoughts, and his head snapped up and over to look at the beastmaster. "You gonna make it to that camp they mentioned? 'Cause I ain't about to carry your arse."

It was still odd to see the older man fully clothed for a change, but the weather necessitated the decision, and Lyon wasn't quite fool enough to risk hypothermia for the sake of showing off his physique. But it was Menenius that was bundled up most, from a thickly padded coat that betrayed no trace of scars or burns, to gloves that hid the trembling of his calloused hands, to a scarf wrapped firm around his neck by none other than the beastmaster himself in a display of surprising tenderness.

'Laterum' was what the hub of commerce had always been known as amongst both the military legions and the civilians -- but he wouldn't expect outsiders to know that. With a slightly indignant huff, he shook his head and added, "Worry not, I have endured far worse." Which wasn't a lie, all things considering.

As the Garlean gazed out from the entrance to the underground train station, a conversation with a few of its denizens returned to his mind: refugees and soldiers alike, save a small group who had opted to stay behind, had been relocated to a camp that had been established in the Magna Glacies. 'If your mother is still alive, she would likely be there.'

Despite his previous claim, the Highlander's arm eased its way behind Menenius's back to support him as the two stepped back out into the open. They walked in silence initially, letting the crunching and cracking of the snow and ice beneath their boots act as conversation between them while they wound their way carefully around the beasts that otherwise would have attacked on sight. There were so many dangers in the northernmost reaches of Ilsabard, but if it was any comfort to them, the latest blizzard had all but abated before their departure. The lancer could only hope that the same good fortune had extended to the evacuees, and that if his loved one was among the number, the journey had not been too taxing on her. She was by no means frail, but even by Elezen standards she was quite up there in age, and he couldn't help the part of him that feared the worst.

"Hey." As if on cue, Lyon once more interrupted the peace, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant to breach the heavy subject. "Try not to get your hopes up, alright?"

Pale peach eyes once more sought the other man out, catching the beastmaster's light blue set, before returning to the empty expanse ahead of them. The former Tribunus didn't reply, but the resumed silence between them said enough: that he understood that the probability of her death far outweighed the chance of her survival.

When next someone spoke, it was Menenius's turn. "... Laterum. The outpost was called Laterum, and Lucius would often take me with him there when I was still young."

"Yeah?" Lyon mused. "I knew Garleans to be proud of their military, but I did not think that the concept of a park was beyond them."

"It was his hope that I would bond with the common man as much as those of higher status," was the simple explanation. The Elezen felt his companion shrug.

"Couldn't he've taken you out fishing or something instead?" Menenius didn't have to say anything -- Lyon immediately realized the stupidity of his own question, given Garlemald's environment. "... Ice fishing," he went on to grumble.

The outpost came into view, its buildings peeking timidly over the hills of pristine white. The salt-and-pepper-haired man's pace quickened, but was almost immediately slowed again by a tug from Lyon.

"Do you think I want to dig in the entrails of one of these overgrown plants for the fun of it? Or for you to exacerbate your injuries? Slow your enthusiasm, boy, or you're bound to make a wrong move in your haste."

The camp wasn't going anywhere, at least, and presumably neither were the remaining refugees. Whether it be to appease Lyon's concern, or because he was genuinely being mindful, Menenius continued trudging onward at their previous pace -- though he couldn't help noting how much tighter Lyon's grip around him was.

The sun was beginning to set when they finally reached their destination. The snowfall had ceased almost entirely, and through gaps in the clouds, they could see an array of oranges and purples bleeding into a darkening blue. Soldiers from varying armies were standing around chatting or keeping a lookout for approaching beasts, and if the situation had been any different, Menenius would have been worried -- but as it stood, he and Lyon were mistaken for just another pair of displaced civilians looking for succor.

It didn't take long to spot the triage building and tents, and he set to work weaving through the beds of sleeping patients, eyes darting from one face to the next and so on as he searched. Lyon, for his part, broke away to do the same, keeping in mind the description he had been given of the woman in question.

Five rows in, there she was: gray hair swept into a now-disheveled bun, experience and knowledge etched onto her slumbering face in each line and wrinkle, and he knew that if her eyes had been open, they would have mirrored his own pair. And in that moment, it was as if a massive weight had lifted off of Menenius's shoulders. Every hardship, every loss, every injury, and every count of guilt for the lives consumed for Noah's cause, they all melted away, albeit temporarily. Even his grievous wounds at the hand of the Diablo Armament couldn't bother him, pain replaced with gratefulness that he was able to see his mother at least once more and know that she was safe.

Had Noah sent word to her of his supposed death? Or had she been left to wonder this entire time, caught in a purgatory of emotional turmoil, with him unable to contact her himself to assuage her fears?

Slowly the lancer sank to his knees at his mother's bedside, and his hands grasped one of hers with such gentleness, so as not to disturb her. "..Here..." He breathed out, head bowing. "... I am here... I am home. Forgive me."

[mythriteshah]

Gratitude Be to Garlemald

There was commotion abound in the Imperial Palace. From within its glowing halls of blue and grey echoed the rhythmic footsteps of Garlean soldiers. From without, the muffled roar of warmachina could be heard, mixed with shouting commands from officers and soldiers alike. For a regular citizen of Garlemald, this would be a normal day.

The Empire had especially been in high spirits in recent days since news of Ala Mhigo's annexation spread, and whispers amidst the citizenry and nobility could be heard from every corner. One such official was a young girl of sixteen summers, with fair skin, hazel eyes, and tresses of platinum blonde. She stood quietly and tall outside an ornate set of double doors, her hands folded at her waist. Whenever a noble would cross her path, she would bow low and greet them with a gentle "Glory be to Garlemald" or "Ave Imperium".

While it was not her business to intrude upon whatever was going on behind the doors she guarded, she could not help but overhear the discussion at certain points - apparently some sentiments regarding a treaty, the royal family's ambitions, and a "Regalia". Some bells would pass and the din of shouting and machinery would subside. The sound of metal chairs scraping along the floor could be heard from behind the doors, and a moment later, they would slowly creak open.

The young Garlean pureblood had little trouble standing for long periods of time, for she had been trained to serve among the Palatinus. Her head was already bowed as the magistrates and senators began to pour out from the room...

"Are you certain parting with that woman was wise?" spoke a magistrate. "Though a savage she may be, the Duskwight has proven herself to be a Magitek genius rivaling that of House Asina - perhaps even that of Garlond's!"

"Even that may be a stretch," replied a female praefectus, "but there is no mistake that she served us well; she had even earned her place among us as a citizen through said genius alone. What is one mind to spare, when we've but thousands? Not to mention the coin paid was far greater than negotiated - generous, even..."

The hushed conversations continued until they were no longer within earshot of the girl, and the committee had all but vacated the area. The last to exit the room were an unexpected sort: a pair of Dunesfolk Lalafell, garbed in habiliments from the more tropical, southern regions of Ilsabard - specifically Thavnair. The male was turbaned and had a well-kept goatee of ice blue, and always had an intrepid aura about him. As for the female, she had hair as white as the snow which fell upon the Magna Glacies, and orbs of silver. She was elegant and graceful in her mannerisms, never wasting a single movement in her steps.

Following them were several other purebloods who bore the colors of the Populares faction. As the doors behind them closed, she would raise her head and turn towards the departing guests...

"Lord Higuri?" she uttered. They would coast to a stop to acknowledge the girl. "I... wanted to extend to you my family's gratitude for your deeds. Though we also wanted to warn you... to not get your hopes up. With recent events unfolding as they are, the movement for your Ilsabard Branch may not be likely to pass."

The male chuckled and approached the girl, stroking his facial hair as he did.

"My dear girl - Miss Youmei, was it?" the Lord Higuri - also known as Fafastima - replied, to which the girl nodded. "We are well aware of the history of your people, and understand that their obstinance is well-founded! But even Garlemald cannot deny generosity when it is presented to them! And even should the door close on this deal, our time in Ul'dah has taught us that there are always more opportunities to be made! But thank you for your kind words, Miss Youmei, and give our own regards to House Kyria! Make no mistake that this will not be the last you see or hear of House Higuri!"

A fade to white, and time fast forwards to the present day. An older Youmei snaps back to reality as she takes in her surroundings: she is within an airship, bound for the Near East. After spending so much time on the home front, she was finally given leave to relax as she awaited new orders. Look off the starboard bow she would shield her eyes from the bright afternoon sun which loomed above, and the port of Yedlihmad came into view. The heat was a welcome sensation to the Garlean shieldmaiden - a stark contrast to the heat and humidity to which she was accustomed by necessity.

As the ship made its descent, she caught the glimpse of some sort of cart or carriage approaching the port town from the west, being pulled by what appeared to be hippos, and some strange bipedal... marid...? holding the reigns. Taking in all the colors and vibrancy, the only familiar sight was the emblem on the hood - the emblem of the Higuri Regalia. When it arrived, a Lalafell of amber-malachite hair and dressed to the nines in gold jumped from out of the carriage to approach the pier.

Stepping cautiously out of her ship, Youmei had safely arrived at her destination, having stepped foot upon Thavnair for the first time. While her tenure in the militum took her to places far and wide, she never had the luxury or fortune to venture so far south.

"Welcome, Miss Youmei, at long last... to Thavnair!" the Lalafell greeted with a bow, sporting a posh accent that only a noble could possess.

"Baroness von Suna!" was all Youmei could get out before the locals swarmed her, gasping in awe as they barraged the Garlean pureblood her with questions and requests alike - some questions involving Magitek, and others pushing to have their wares sampled. Youmei could only chuckle sheepishly as she was out of her element, but the Lalafell was quick to scatter the crowd with her bladed cane, lightly brushing away the ambush so as to give her breathing room once more. "So sorry about that, dear. Shall we proceed?" she said as she gestured to the cart.

As they embarked, they would begin their journey outside the port town and into Thavnair proper, with the Baroness catching Youmei up to speed about general knowledge surrounding the region. As they were bound for Radz-at-Han, they had plenty of time to pass away, and the carriage's leisurely pace extended it considerably.

Making a brief stop at the Hippo Riders' headquarters in Svarna, Youmei would be introduced to the little meyhane they had established, partaking in the local delicacies - the most popular among them being lassi. Her roots as a merchant allowed the Garlean to become fast friends with the Arkasodara Matanga, and after a warm meal and rest, they were on the road once more.

"Baroness," Youmei began, "There's... something that has been on my mind that I must divulge." Von Suna arched a curious brow at Youmei, silently gesturing her to continue... "Though it's obvious that I share a past with the house you serve, there is no mistake that my people are yet seen in a negative light. I've served under the yoke of several imperial legions, and have bore witness to many of the atrocities inflicted by each. Each fight I came out of secured a better future for Garlemald - at least I thought so until the grand deception and purpose of the Empire was revealed. There are a small number among us that wanted our fight to actually have meaning beyond bending all to the will of the ivory standard. I've witnessed Othard's unique and majestic mountains; seen the vast lakes and plains of Aldenard, and even found beauty in the Dalmascan Estersands. Though I grew as a soldier, so too did I grow as a person, hoping that our hunger for conquest and Eikon extermination would one day subside. I remained loyal to Garlemald, but knew in the back of my mind that there was a chance to make things better for us - I just never imagined it would involve the devastation of our homeland."

The delicate features upon her face tensed as Youmei's hands balled into fists within her lap. Staring at the Baroness, she continued:

"Because of the magnanimity shown by House Higuri years ago, my house and several others began to foster hope for a better Garlemald. By the grace of the non-aggression treaty were Lord Fafastima and Lady Mimizo even able to step foot into the capital to discuss trade matters; we had even voted in favor of them establishing their Ilsabard Branch Headquarters... But we knew better than to be sure of the movement passing. The Higuri's beliefs differ vastly than the stories I've heard regrading those from Ul'dah's society - the ones who only seem to be drawn by the allure of profit. As a merchant by trade, we respected such ways of thinking, but greed often gets in the way of their train of thinking..." She paused and inspected the gown the Baroness wore and her cheeks would flush a bright pink. The gown worn bore an esoteric symbol that denoted the selfsame greed of which Youmei spoke. "N-No offense. I know you've made your own strides towards Garlemald's restorations in recent moons -"

The Baroness could only laugh in response to Youmei's sentiments. Then, she would begin to loosen her updo and remove her shaded spectacles, revealing her onyx orbs as her hair trailed messily down her neck, stopping at her upper back.

"None taken, Miss Youmei!" she replied. "I was never Ul'dahn by birth anyway!" What struck the Garlean as odd, however, was the sheer fact that the Baroness's accent dropped, now giving way to a more traditional, Near Eastern dialect. "The Baroness is an alter ego I've assumed when the Regalia had risen to such prominence that even those serving House Higuri knew the delightful sting of opulence! While Baroness von Suna - the dangerous lady with gil in the pockets - may be Ul'dahn, Susuna Suna is Thavnairian, tried and true! We adapted fast to the ways of Ul'dah's upper class, and establishing the Baroness persona was done to help better spread the influence of His Eminence! My sisters do it as well, and it has worked in our favor for some time!"

Youmei blinked her eyes at the revelation. Then blinked once more before bursting into laughter herself, having been had all this time.

Their conversation would seem to have teleported them a great distance as it did not take long for the Wakeful Torama to come into view - the towering gaja statues that guarded the entrance to the Gate of First Sight which led into Radz-at-Han proper. Their destination was slowly approaching, but there was yet sentiments to divulge - which the Baroness - or Susuna Suna - would gladly do.

"You're absolutely right about one thing, Miss Youmei," she started, "Our Lord Thiji could've taken that route; he could have been counted among the many other Monetarists whose hands are in the pot of Ul'dah's politics - driven only by profit and maintaining the status quo; he could have likewise been lauded in a similar light to the so-called 'goddess of merchants' Rowena, with the Regalia having identical mannerisms to her 'House of Splendors'; he could have easily betrayed what it truly meant to be a noble worthy of the name and status; he could have forsaken it all to be led only by that most deadly of sins: greed, greed, greed... But he didn't. Somehow, some way, he had been enlightened by Nald'thal and the Sisters that a far greater destiny awaited him and those whom he could evangelize into the ways of prosperity - a true prosperity that could only be had if it was shared. He always said that, 'the rich must get richer, but those riches mean naught if not used for good.' He found that balance: where he could share his wealth to aid those less fortunate in his own way while still having pockets deep enough to beggar the predatory gaze of the Syndicate. It swayed even I - the Apsara of Greed - the one Angel blessed by the Mythrite Sultan to embody all that is avarice - to embrace its more... benevolent aspects. The hunger to want more turned into a force of good, and I used that greed - that drive to make richer the rich - to further my lord's ambitions."

As they approached the gated checkpoint, the two ladies would disembark from their cart. Susuna - quickly re-assuming her guise as the Baroness - tipped the Radiant guards for their service before leading Youmei down the bridge into Thavnair's capital.

"I thank you for helping clear my mind... Baroness," spoke the Garlean maiden. "I see knew that our gratitude in Lord Thiji was well-founded, but your words have proven to me that the Regalia is more than just a fashion emporium - it is a beacon of prosperity and opulence, achieved through the cooperation and generosity of others."

Pleased by her words, the Baroness twirled her blade-cane happily in the air before lowering her shades to shoot Youmei a wink.

"And in due time, my dear..." she had also retrieved her posh accent, "...Garlemald will know opulence once more. And whilst you await your new orders, you are long overdue for a tour of the city... Lady G!"

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 19: weal

Today was her nameday. She’d just woken up, and she was dreading it already. The summer solstice was a feast in honor of Azim, and amidst all the roasting of dzo and chugging of kumiss, not too many people had ever bothered to remember it was also one girl’s nameday. Her parents had always set aside the choicest bits of lamb for her, but if anyone else noticed it was only to paint her face with gold paint and parade her between two bonfires, crying to the Dawn Father that one of His acolytes had come. It had rather put a dent in her desires for feasting and dancing.

When she’d washed up in Eorzea, at first she’d resigned herself to being the only person who even knew she was a year older. Except then Rita had asked, and she’d answered, and on the next solstice—and the next, and the next—there had been a little round chocolate cake all for her, with candles on top shaped like the numbers of her new age.

(It hadn’t been the only reason she’d stayed with the Scions, but it certainly hadn’t hurt. The Steppes had never heard of chocolate.)

But she’d been in Garlemald for a year now, and there were no little chocolate cakes. What there were instead, still, were her fellow Xaela, and after the winter solstice bonfires word had gotten out that she was Dawn-touched. A quiet day was definitely out of the question, she thought sourly as she finished applying her face paint.

Someone was knocking on the door of the yurt. While Theo barked frantically as though they’d somehow missed it, Alan got up to open it.

“We need to borrow Gan—”

“No, you do not,” Alan snapped, and slammed the door in the Mol woman’s face.

Gan almost blinked, but that would have messed up the lines. “Not that I’m not thankful, but...” What was that about?

Alan flashed her one of those soft smiles over his shoulder, the one that said without words, I love you, and I’m so glad you’re here. “It’s your nameday. You deserve to be left alone.” He paused, looking oddly guilty, and then added, “I...made sure you’d have time off, too.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Not all alone,” she shot back, just in case her man got any ideas about blending into the wallpaper. Today of all days! “You’re here, aren’t you? And...” She swept her gaze up his body, taking in his fine fur-trimmed coat and snug trousers, and then back down just to linger on those shoulders again. And those thighs. She was a weak mortal woman and it was her nameday, sue her. “Seems you’ve got plans.”

He was blushing. They’d been together for years and he still went red when she looked at him like that, it was adorable. “...Aye,” he muttered. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I thought it would be nice to just...take Theo for a walk. No expectations that we’ll bring back game, no formal patrolling. Just us. Does that sound good? I—I mean, if it doesn’t, we can just—stay in. Do whatever you want.” He was bright red by the time he finished speaking.

“That sounds amazing.” It really did. Once, the merest flake of snow had sent her into shaking fits. But Garlemald had forced her to confront her old, vicious memories, and now...well, she’d never like snow or the cold, but it was incredible how much Alan’s presence warmed her up. Besides, summer in the Magna Glacies was almost bearable if you didn’t mind mud. “Lemme get my coat...”

As she started assembling her various layers, Alan added, “But we have to be back by sundown.”

So there was a time limit. Interesting. Her tail flicked thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Breakfast was tea, piping hot pancakes—with chocolate syrup, and when had they gotten that in?—and well-wishes from her fellow craftsmen. Theo bounded around their feet and then ahead of them as soon as they set out on their leisurely stroll around the perimeter, but she didn’t play tag with him like she normally did. That would’ve deprived her of Alan’s hand at the small of her back, Alan’s quiet laughter against her horn. And if she stopped, overflowing with love, to kiss him breathless behind a tree—well, she didn’t have anywhere else to be.

They made their way back to Laterum eventually, footsore but smiling, and then Alan announced he had another present for her—he’d arranged for private use of one of the baths for two hours, just for them. “So I can take care of your scales for you,” he murmured, but there was a flush to his face and a heat in his voice that let her know her scales were definitely not the only thing he was hoping to take care of.

Gods, she loved this man. Grinning, she breathed, “Lead th’ way.”

He did. And he was very, very thorough.

It was sundown by the time they finished. Alan hurried her past the commissary, which was odd. There was light shining under the door of their yurt, which was odder still. She was aware of quiet voices within.

More importantly, Alan was saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but...” as he opened the door.

“Surprise!”

As far as she knew, Rita was in Thavnair and Hoary Boulder was in Gridania—and yet here they were, grinning at her. They’d been joined not only by most of their other coworkers but Hoelun and Evrard as well. Avery and Thancred had even forgone their usual brooding in corners, though that might’ve just been because yurts didn’t actually have any. Portia was beaming as she joked, “I’d imagine you’re probably bloody sick of seein’ half our faces, but you couldn’t think we’d miss out on your nameday! And the cake!”

“There’s cake?!” she blurted out. And then, “’Scuse me, that’s mine—”

“Not this one,” Rita informed her. She was clearly trying for ruthless, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Your Alan had it special ordered from the Bismarck. It’s a mocha ice cream cake with chocolate ganache frosting and serves about a dozen people. Even you couldn’t eat th’ whole thing by yourself!”

All of a sudden, some of the overheard conversations—alright, overheard threats—Alan had been hissing into his linkpearl made sense. She felt a grin split her face. “Aww, honey...”

He turned lightly pink. “You deserve it.”

She did.

Maybe this nameday would be worth celebrating after all.

[blackestnight]

otp meme: 15. Who does the driving on road trips? & 22. Do either of them like rollercoasters and other thrilling experiences?

15. Who does the driving on road trips?

in a modern au? whoever can fend off the other long enough to get into the driver's seat. they both like driving more than being stuck as a passenger, so driving shifts are decided in ritual combat (aymeric holds the keys up where hanami can't reach them, she elbows him in the gut, etc). the fact that the driver picks the music is also a significant contributing factor to the ongoing struggle. it's hilarious when they end up driving each others' cars, though, because aymeric (who is used to his little four-door sedan) does not know how to handle turns in hanami's hulking monstrosity of a truck, and hanami (who is the proud owner of a decrepit pickup that should have died a slow death a decade ago) isn't used to brakes that aren't filled with actual mud. also, hanami can afford a new car. people used to tell her she needs a new car. people stopped telling her she needs a new car because they swiftly discovered that she has Opinions about modern-manufacture pickups and their pitiful hauling capacity. no one wants to get her started on that again.

in canon, hanami "drives" (when they aren't walking everywhere, which they usually do) because she has vastly more experience with mounts of all types, except for chocobos, which she refuses to ride because the smell makes her sick. she's taken aymeric falcon riding before, and can't help but tease him every time they get on a horse, because don't you people have unicorns? it's just like riding a unicorn. what kind of rich ishgardian hasn't ridden a unicorn? also, i invite you to share in the mental image of aymeric (like 6'7", certifiable giant) sitting behind hanami (barely 5'2" in her boots) on her magitek bike. she keeps offering to teach him how to drive it, but honestly with the stories he's heard of her using it as a literal battering ram on the magna glacies he's not sure he wants to take her up on the offer.

22. Do either of them like rollercoasters and other thrilling experiences?

hanami's first instinct when she sees a cliff is to take a running leap. she's an adventurer, being an adrenaline junky is part of the deal.

aymeric likes thrilling experiences, just not life-threatening thrilling experiences. rollercoasters? sure. ziplines? yeah! bridge-jumping? no thank you, he'll be over here.

[engravedinaash]

Memory

Part 2 - Adolescence

CW death, violence, blood mention

Lore Masterpost

It’s a long journey. He barely makes it by with the gil he earned from trading in what he foraged near his home before his departure. From airship to boat to chocobo, he finds a way to continue his journey. Few parts of the coasts of Ilsabard welcome him, but they do not hold answers for him there. No one is certain about the settlement his family belonged to even existing anymore due to the Garlean Empire’s conquest. He is warned against going into the Magna Glacies- the frozen wasteland surrounding Garlemald, but Senka’ir is not deterred from it having come this far. He would much rather die trying, but he keeps that to himself.

    He manages to climb up near the peaks without stopping, until his legs burn and he cannot move them. He stops to rest, but unaccustomed to the cold he does not know the dangers of traversing deadly weather. He nearly freezes and thinks the heavily cloaked older Hyur man approaching him is an apparition of death until he finds himself being pulled away into a small settlement nestled within the snowy mountains.

    He distantly hears voices and whispers as he is shuffled from a small room to an ornate hall, and only becomes fully conscious of where he is, knelt on the floor, when he feels a presence at his side. A hand cradling his own. Warmth. Like he has never felt before. And he looks up, eyes that resemble the turquoise he saw from the jewelers stalls from the many markets he had passed yet these eyes are more beautiful. Cool like that welcoming water on Ilsabard’s coast. Senka’ir never knew he could like a color so much in that instant.

    “–you okay? You must have been freezing. You are safe now.“ Says the boy before him, a hyur no older than himself.

    Senka'ir’s world centers on the smile the boy gives him. He has never had a stranger smile at him. He sees no pity in this young man’s eyes. He forgets his scars, dirt and sweat coated face if even for a moment.

    Emrys is his name. He is the youngest of a family of mages who are highly revered in this displaced community. This settlement once resided on flat earth at the bottom of the mountains, but the Empire’s increasing invasions had them quietly and slowly move themselves where they would not be easily reached. The oldest living member of the family is Emrys’s grandmother, the most powerful of the mages; she has dedicated the last of her days to maintaining a concentration spell that keeps a specific vicinity of the mountain (where the village is) under a temperature regulated dome invisible to the naked (and Garlean) eye. Without it, there would be no chance of survival in the Glacies. This spell is only passed to those in the family capable of performing it. The next in line happens to be Emrys.

    Through the kindness of his heart and persuasion of his words, Emrys convinces his father that the miqo’te is no threat to them and should stay however long he needs. The old man who initially found Senka’ir, Darek, offers to take the boy under his wing in the meantime to help him mine ceruleum and ore for their greenhouses. With nowhere else to go, being warned of the state of Garlemald and the Empire, Senka’ir agrees to offer what he can.

    He’s asked of his name. He didn’t think of giving it. Perhaps he’s tired and knows it will be mispronounced, or perhaps for a moment he wants to forget the reason for this complicated journey. A nobler reason would be to protect his family. He tells them: Sen.

  •·················•·················•

    Sen spends most of his days now waking early, going to the dig site Darek carved out, and working long hours. He finds himself enjoying the repetitive, simple task. He would not admit it easily but he likes to be useful. He may be cold to the old man at times (Darek brushes most of it off for the boy being well into his teenage years) but Sen looks forward to the praise he receives for a job well done.

    His work also gives him an excuse to avoid the overwhelming sensations he feels when he sees Emrys out and about. The hyur smiles at him each and every time, even when he knows Sen struggles to return it. Now that he is not half dead and freezing, Sen feels dormant insecurities starting to break the surface. Things that normally would not bother him. Is my smile ugly Is he making fun of me Does he feel bad for me Where did these thoughts come from?

    A few months into his stay, a man that was in charge of guarding the room that Emrys’ grandmother resides falls ill one day, and Emrys immediately volunteers Sen for the role. Again, Sen assumes he must be testing him, or playing a joke, something cruel like his brothers would do. But immediately he would regret thinking those things when Emrys brings him a warm meal during his evening shift on watch with a timid smile, admitting that while he had no hand in the original guard falling ill he did have an agenda to keep Sen in one place so he could get to know him.

    It takes time. Emrys’ simply brings food for Sen and a book for himself as he sits quietly in the hallway. By day 3 Sen quietly asks if the book is good. Emrys enthusiastically launches into a detailed description, more than happy to have the miqo’tes attention. Even though Sen struggles to keep eye contact, Emrys does not miss the rhythmic swish of the inky black tail and the turning of his ears whenever he speaks. He had read about miqo’te in the small remaining library in his family’s quarters, but had never met one.

    By the end of the week, Sen is more verbally responsive and can meet Emrys eyes when he talks. By the time the guard fully recovers, Sen works up the courage to offer him evenings off to spend time with his family–and so he himself can keep this routine with the other boy that he finds himself eagerly anticipating. He has not had anything to look forward to in every day life in ages.

    Eventually, Sen and Emrys are close enough to where they are comfortable sharing personal stories together. They make games of asking questions. Emrys asks what led Sen to Ilsabard, and when he tells him the young mage offers to research whatever he can to find any information on the Keeper’s ancestors. Sen also admits he did not know what he planned on doing after getting there, and that there is a part of him that does not want to return to his family in the Shroud. Emrys sympathizes, and wishes at times he could leave the village behind and at least travel down the other sides of the mountains to see the water of the coasts he had read about. Together they promise that one day, they will go on that journey together. To make good on that promise, Sen entrusts Emrys with his full name–asking it only to be used between the two of them. He finds he likes how it sounds coming from his friend’s voice more than he should.

•·················•·················•

    Sen hates how perceptive Darek is sometimes. The old man makes sure to comment on how good of a mood he gets in after returning home at night for the past few days, and Sen quickly learns that he hates how expressive his tail is. The hyur says something about “young love” with a smile, asks who the lass is…much to Sen’s confusion. While there are plenty of girls in the village he considers pretty, they never want to glance at him too long. They might have even caught his attention if he had not already become entranced by a pair striking blue eyes that make him forget the pain he has carried if but for a moment. They make him feel safe, understood, and loved.

    Sen realizes he’s fucked.

    The breaking point happens on his 17th nameday, something Emrys had asked him about many moons ago and nearly had trouble answering since it hadn’t been celebrated since he lost his brother. Emrys must have also gotten Darek in on it, because the man basically forced Sen to take the day off. Emrys showed up at his door with lunch and various treats Sen had alluded to enjoying as a child in the Shroud (a lone book in Emrys’ library on Eorzean cuisine and customs became most helpful to prepare for this). The two spent the day together, eating in the greenhouse amongst the flora there and playing in the snow. Sen’s face hurts from smiling so much in a day–he doesn’t think he ever has before today.

    By nightfall, the two are watching the stars when Emrys gives Sen his gift. It’s an enchanted embroidered cloth made of the softest material Sen has ever touched that can be used multiple times before needing to be cleaned–perfect for days that Sen does not have the energy to wash his face or needs to wipe the coal off his hands before a lunch break. Sen is nearly overwhelmed with the feelings he gets from receiving such a nice gift and being given such a lovely day to celebrate his life it brings moistness to his eyes. Emrys does not mock him for it, doesn’t even say anything; he simply brings the cloth to Sen’s cheek to catch the tear that falls. Their hands find each others’ after that, and they don’t need to say anything else. But Sen knows he would do anything for the young man before him. He already has his heart.

    Thankfully, Sen doesn’t have to wait very long to even think of confronting those feelings. Emrys is the first to confess properly not many moons after, admitting he could not wait any longer to give his feelings voice. He knows how his father disapproves only on the basis of preparing his son for a future of solitude like his grandmother is facing–relationships only bring hurt for both parties when one is locked in a room for the rest of their years. He knows it could be selfish, but he holds hope that with enough research in their lifetimes the village could be relocated again to a more habitable environment without fear of the Empire looming ever closer. His hope and bright outlook on life shake Sen to his core, and whether he admits it or not he loves him all the more for it.

•·················•·················•

    Over the next few years, Sen becomes very proficient in mining, blacksmithing, and combat with spears. He makes regular treks outside the domed village to forge a clear path for future passage of the people once they can coordinate a means to migrate down the mountain.

    Emrys continues his studies on maps and surrounding cultures, offering any monetary or magical assistance he can to Sen as he travels further to the coasts seeking aid in their mission. It takes a lot of negotiating, errand running, and earned trust to secure a ship that can be cloaked by the very same invisibility dome to get everyone to safety elsewhere in Eorzea. They begin to plan a day that they can present this idea to Emrys’ family and the rest of the village. Sen allows himself to be hopeful.

•·················•·················•

The last trip down was a success. All that’s left is to gather more ore, more ceruleum, anything else that is left remaining on the payment for the ship and can be brought to trade..wherever they end up. Nightfall is when it is decided Emrys will deliver the news to his family first–and if all goes well the rest of the village will know by tomorrow. Sen is hoping this is a risk that will be rewarded. But who could say no to Emrys? Who could not be swayed to his decision when he speaks with those eloquent words and gentle voice? His path is to not be a vessel but a leader, if he so chooses.

As long as Sen gets to remain at his side, he would take any role. He looks to the sky slowly being lit with stars he remembers explaining to Emrys Menphina’s tale. Though he had long since removed his trust in the Twelve, Sen finds himself distantly praying as he remembers his mother did. And in the back of his mind he wishes at the very least he could be the Dalamud to Emrys’ greater brilliant moon.

A few more steps up freshly laid snow, a path his feet remember without thought. Though it is getting dark, there is a shift in the air. The constant buzzing of magic and aether is replaced by  a quietness that Sen has never heard before even this far out.

He drops what he carries and runs.

•·················•·················•

He’s late. He’s too late.

The village guard is staining the snow with red. Sounds of life are not heard as his legs carry him through the village. He can’t even hear the soldier–Imperial soldier it has to be–spitting words and barking orders at him as he runs inside the mage family’s quarters. He barely makes out Darek among the faces of the other village people huddled into the back corner of the hall. His ears are ringing when he sees the bodies on the ground–the father and and grandmother both, they aren’t moving and

Everything is red, everything is red until suddenly there is bright blue.

Emrys

He’s looking at him as two soldiers restrain him, dig their dirty disgusting hands into him he’s in pain don’t touch him and he’s battered and Sen nearly lunges like a beast–two more soldier’s restrain him before he can make another move. Their leader says something about the weak mages serving no purpose to the Empire, the bounty of ceruleum will be of use, but anything else is not heard over the pounding in Sen’s own ears and Emrys’ weakened voice.

“Senka’ir”

   “Save them..“

        “Always.. I will love you, so please…”

The leader steps over, their weapon comes down

Sen is clawing, kicking, thrashing, cursing his smaller build and these giant Garleans. He may be yelling but he can’t hear himself. He can’t take his eyes away from Emrys, if he does he isn’t sure what will happen. Its happening too fast, he can’t move-

A soft look despite trembling, tears crystalizing the blue of his eyes. A shaking breath, a final word

                                “Live”

A booming sound Sen has never heard. Loud and awful. The ringing comes right after. He doesn’t see the aftermath because everything is red again. Red and blurry. Something claws out of his skin and his throat. He cries, he claws, he roars.

Something lets go.

He’s weightless but heavy.

   Everything

                                      goes

                                                     black.

•·················•·················•

Darek in all his years has never seen anything like what Sen had done moments before. For the 5 years he has known him, he knew the boy could be prone to anger, usually at himself more than anyone else. He also knew he was stronger than others might think him to be. But never did he think he would see something like this. He had no other word but rage. Consumed by it. As if those feelings overflowed and heightened his physical ability until he could no longer stand. 

Sen massacred the entire lot of Imperial soldiers, not an entire army but enough to make resisting impossible. Everything from his spear, the soldier’s own weapons to even his bare hands. He left no witness for the Empire, no soldier to escape and call for backup. Though this would only buy them a bit more time before more come looking. Sen must have had some sense left to know this, or Emrys’ words rang like an order, because he staggered to Darek bloodied with pupil-blown eyes and managed to growl: West. Path. Coast. Boat. He promptly collapsed.

The rest of the villagers gathered what they could carry and began heading down the mountain, following a trail Sen had marked beforehand. Darek helped usher them out, and by the time he returned for Sen the half-conscious miqo’te had dragged himself over the pile of corpses to Emrys. Darek’s heart ached at the sight.

It was difficult to make Sen let go of the lifeless body. 

•·················•·················•

When Sen became fully conscious, he was on the boat. His body ached terribly. He kept to himself for the remainder of the journey and was not responsive to Darek checking on him and patching him up. He heard vague whispers, questions without answers–how was the village found. How did the magic fail them. Was there a Garlean spy? Something bad happened. Only when he pulled out his magicked cloth dirty with blood did everything come back to him. What he had done. 

He felt the stares of the villagers, varying from wary to afraid to pity. He hated it. But it was what he knew from home already. He stared at his hands caked in blood. He truly deserved nothing better. The only thing he could feel was numbness. He had run out of anger to give if but for a moment. Exhaustion took its place.