#Aetheryte Series

[wickedfuncrafts]

April's limited scent release is Forgotten Knight; inspired by Ishgard.

Forgotten Knight combines the scents of crisp air, frosted woods, and embers.

[ecosystem-administrator]

the road to Horizon

I was watching a video recapping someone's journey through FFXIV and it made me think back on the start of my own, so I have some thoughts to ramble here, on my departure from Azeroth and arrival into Eorzea. From the perspective of a WoW refugee who arrived before the big waves of exodus, who left before all the bad news broke at Blizzard.

I don't talk about it much. At first it was because I was still grieving what I'd left, adjusting to the new normal I'd found for myself and trying not to be that person who compares everything to their only other experience in the genre; then, it was because the news had broken about all the things broken in Blizzard behind the scenes, and suddenly it no longer felt cool to have ever enjoyed what they were doing. But I started playing WoW during Wrath of the Lich King, and I continued to play until somewhere in the patch cycles of Battle For Azeroth. 2009-2019, a full decade of investment in the lore, of anticipation and disappointment, of theorycrafting my way around plotholes so I could keep enjoying the things that were enjoyable.

At some point, there was a news announcement coming, and I found myself anxious, dreading the possibility that the plot would focus on some of the characters I'd come to like, and in doing so wreck the stories I'd been building in my head. I had to stop and replay that moment for myself: I was dreading my favorite characters getting spotlight time, because I was afraid of what the writers would do to them. This is, I had to finally admit to myself, no way to live. I had reached my limit. My trust was broken, years of disappointment having finally dismantled my hope. I had to walk away. I wouldn't uninstall, not yet - but I would instead try out that beautiful Final Fantasy game my fiancee and some of her friends had started playing. I had watched over her shoulder one time a good while back as a tiny pink cupcake of a girl drank a goblet of poisoned wine, and at the time I had envied the power of the scene on display. Perhaps starting fresh with a new story would help ease the grief of finally stepping away from a decade of giving my heart to a game that was simply no longer giving back.

It takes time to adjust to a new game, of course. New controls, new abilities, what do you mean crafters are classes just like combat classes, wait what's the difference between a class and a job, how do I know whether I'm where I'm supposed to be, what do you mean dungeons aren't optional content, etc. I stumbled my way through the start of ARR, increasingly enthused to be learning a whole new set of lore but still anxious about how new I was. In FFXIV, we call new players 'sprouts' and tend to them; but I hadn't yet learned that mindset. I had to be told not to remove the sprout icon that flagged me as new and learning, because to me it looked like a 'kick me' sign on my back, a bright waving flag that said "Fresh Meat". That's what it would have been, where I had come from. I didn't know any better yet.

I made my way out of Gridania, around the capitals, through the baby dungeons, back to Ul'dah to get my invitation to the Scions, doing my best to absorb new lore, new controls, and new attitudes simultaneously. So it wasn't until I was leaving Ul'dah and headed out into Western Thanalan toward the Scions, on foot because I hadn't unlocked mounts yet, because I hadn't yet gotten the Horizon aetheryte, that I suddenly had a series of revelations.

I couldn't see player levels just by looking at them. I would have to click on a player and examine them in order to identify what level they were. Conversely, no one could see my level unless they went to that effort. They couldn't tell at a glance if I was overleveled or underleveled, if I was out of place in a zone or where I was meant to be.

The plot I had been through so far had gradually converged on this point in a way that suggested the story was melding with the starting storylines from the other two cities. In WoW, there are overarching plotlines for zones sometimes, but the presence of a Main Plot is a very recent development. Players rarely take the same path from starting zone to max level; but here, we were all walking the same road.

There were no factions. We were all walking the same road, and this was what struck me the hardest. From level 1 to level 70 (at the time I started lmao), every single player around me was somewhere on the same plotline. No one was a threat. There was no world PvP. I would never be ganked, griefed, have to wait for critical NPCs to respawn after max-level players from the other faction had come in and killed them.

Me, to me, at level 15 as the light began to dawn:

This is really how it felt, after all those years of WoW. The road to Horizon was the place where I finally realized I wasn't a soldier anymore, an erstwhile mercenary trying to dodge getting drafted back into a forever war. Of course there were still enemies, but all of the enemies were NPCs. I didn't have to worry about enemy PCs coming in raids, about staying out of their way or deciding to stand and fight. There were no such thing as enemy PCs. The war was, finally, over.

And so I trod onward lighter, still on foot until someone saw fit to give me a chocobo, my faction tabard abandoned in the dust of Thanalan, only an adventurer at last.

[nyxvaledoeswriting]

Here is another FFXIV drink I made based off Aetherytes! Delicious blue aether jelly drink, best drank while still cold!

Part One of the drink series

If anyone has any drink recommendations based on FFXIV, send me an ask! I'd love to get back into making these silly drinks!

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #10: Stable

(A/n: Another entry into the role quest rewrite series, this time beginning the melee quest with Estinien. At first I just defaulted to Estinien cos he is the token melee in the Scions in EndW, but once I sat down to write, I realised Limsa had a bit more in common with Ishgard than I remembered.

While it's more small scale compared to Ishgard's two thousnad year long war, the idea of breaking agreements and continuing old wars and blaming the other side for what one group started is still very applicable. In the end, the melee role quest is still more focused on the Sahagin than the Kobolds, but its a way to establish a beginning with Estinien and set his relationship with the Admiral/Limsa from the start.

Used the prompt to talk reference Limsa's stability as a nation, even if it's more specific to the city/more of a facade when they're still rebuilding relations with the other factions. It also feels ironic that the pirate nation is more put together out of everyone.

Word count: 955)

“You’re not much familiar with Limsa Lominsa are you?” Fhara asked, glancing up at Estinien as he cast his eyes over the crowded aetheryte plaza. Merchants moving to and fro, clusters of locals standing around chatting and enjoying the sunshine, and even a small lalafellin band was playing for a crowd.

“Not particularly,” he finally answered, “I’ve passed through to utilise their port, but as for the city of the rest of the island, I haven’t seen much.”

“Well, we’re here on official business, but I hope it’ll give you the chance to see a little more then,” she said with a smile, then gestured for him to follow. It would have to be the long walk to Maelstrom command if he wasn’t attuned to the aethernet in the city. A small blessing that Limsa always being so busy meant they both crept under the radar, and were uninterrupted on their way.

The Admiral was waiting for them with one of her officers, the latter of which offered a sharp salute upon their arrival.

“My delegate informed you were bringing assistance,” Merlwyb hummed, looking Estinien over.

“Estinien Varlineau, former Azure Dragoon, if it would give you any reassurance to my capabilities,” he introduced, offering a polite nod. The reactions were stark, the officer gaping in shock to be in the presence of an esteemed warrior, while Merlwyb barked out a loud laugh.

“The Azure Dragoon? I’d fear for your reputation then if you don’t manage to kill this beast in one hit,” she grinned.

“They’re surprisingly resilient. But should I have it in my sights, I’ll try and land a definitive blow.”

“I have no doubt. But let us discuss the matter at hand.”

“From what we’ve learned so far, people will turn into blasphemies when they’re overcome by despair and apathy. Have you seen any signs of that here?” Fhara asked, well aware that the city itself seemed full of cheer, without any sign of dissonance.

“Nay, our problems haven’t laid within the city. But instead with our neighbours, the Sahagin,” Merlwyb said, with the officer beside her taking over to add, “It all started with reports from men patrolling the borderline at Skull Valley, and then when we reached out to the factions there for more information, the Sahagin confirmed their numbers were mainly affected.”

“I suppose that makes sense, if you don’t mind me saying Admiral. Limsa’s long had issues communicating with both its neighbours on this island, and while discussions have helped with the Kobolds to smooth over past disagreements, I can see some of the Sahagin still being wary of any peace talks,” Fhara nodded, thinking over what she knew of Limsa’s conflicts.

“Aye, we’ve had a steady peace building between us and the kobolds, and even with the Sahagin. But as you say, some factions aren’t quite ready to trust us, even as we’ve assisted in curing their tempered,” Merlwyb said with a frown. She spied the curious look in Estinien’s eye.

“For you ser, since I know you may not be aware of our history - before now, Limsa Lominsa has long been at odds with both Sahagin and Kobold on Vylbrand. The Sahagin were only recently involved in our conflicts, pushed to our shores as they were for breeding grounds, but our longest conflict was with the Kobolds. Tis only with the aid of the Scions that we have finally reached an accord with them.”

“What manner of conflict was this?” He asked.

“Land, of course, same story as any other. When our pirates first reached these shores to call them home, they didn’t care a whit that the Kobolds already had it. Fighting ensued as it does. At one point an agreement was reached for peace…but pirates do as pirates do, and they take what they please. We broke the agreement and restarted the conflict, all of our own folly.”

Estinien was silent, taking in her tale with a quiet contemplation. When he finally responded, it was with a heavy tone, like that of a world weariness that had seen it all before.

“You say it is as pirates do, but I would argue that pirate or no, man is ever the culprit in their own folly. Man will always take as they please, whether it be land, or power. They may blame it on a desire to feed their people or a sense of fear of the other side, but it wouldn’t change that their actions cause harm to all, and they wouldn’t give a damn who suffers.”

A single blink was the only hint that Merlwyb was thrown by how easily Estinien had responded, her face otherwise a picture of professionalism.

“You speak from experience.”

“In a way. Your tale isn’t too dissimilar from Ishgard’s own. Far be it for me to overstep when I’m not here as a delegate on behalf of Ishgard, but I would advise you and yours mind those ties with the Kobolds from here on, lest you make the same mistakes again,” he said.

“Duly noted.” The two continued to regard each other carefully, leaving the other two present to share an awkward look before Fhara finally coughed to break the tension.

“I know this means we’d be well to check in with the Kobolds factions in case they’re affected, but right now you said the Sahagin were the main concern?”

“Aye, that they are. Though I hope the history lesson allows Ser Estinien to understand where we stand now on this island with all factions,” Merlwyb said, finally breaking into a polite smile.

“That it does. While the Sahagin are our primary focus, I’ll be sure to keep the Kobolds in mind, should we fear their turning as well.”

[viper-mulligan]

FFXIV Write 2024 Prompt 05: Stamp

Summary: Viper writes a letter. Takes place in ARR Patch Quests, three weeks before the banquet.

Rating: T (profanity)

Word Count: 700

A/N: This is part of an ongoing series. Read part one here!

When the gloves arrived in the mail, Viper slid her fingers over the soft fabric and gave an appreciative sigh. Then she lifted the note, and examined the graceful loops and whorls of the Lord Commander's handwriting.

Though no gift can repay Ishgard’s debt to the Warrior of Light, I pray these express the smallest portion of our gratitude. Your friend Haurchefaunt informs me of your interest in clothcraft, so I have included some additional materials for your use. I look forward to our continued alliance, and, as always, am at your service should you require aught else.

Aymeric de Borel

Lord Commander of the Temple Knights

Viper rooted deeper into the package, and found bolts of fabric and spools of thread under the gloves. Her face heated with pleasure.

Thoughtful.

She rushed to her desk and pulled a fresh piece of stationary from the mess of papers and miscellany. Then she sat and began to write. 

Growing up in Little Ala Mhigo, Viper had little opportunity for education. Though she knew her letters, her unpracticed handwriting looked sloppy next to the elegant script of Aymeric's letter. She chewed her lip, hand already cramping from her careful effort. The nib of her pen stabbed through the paper, and she growled in frustration. 

Putting aside her ugly handwriting, what should she actually say? Aymeric was so composed, and she was so… messy. She looked over the few words already written, and rubbed her temple.

Maybe she could ask for help. Who would be best at letter writing? Not Anshul. His writing was worse than hers. Lyra was busy with the Flames. T’kash? Hm, perhaps not. 

She could think of one person who would be excellent at letter writing. With a grimace, she gathered her things and headed to the aetheryte.

—

The door inside the Waking Sands swung open, and Viper marched through. Inside, Urianger slumped over a tome, looking more haggard than ever. Dark shadows hung below his eyes, and his wan expression made Viper's chest tighten.

“I need your help,” she said, plopping a sack onto the table in front of him. “And you need to eat.”

“Thy ministrations are appreciated, but I do not hunger.”

“I don't give a fuck, Urianger,” Viper said, taking the chair opposite him. “You're going to eat, and then we're going outside for a walk. You need air.”

The man opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

“Thou speakest as she would...”

Viper's chest ached again. 

“Yes,” she said softly. “Because she would want you to thrive, even in your grief. Even when we hurt, we still must eat. I brought you meatballs.”

Urianger ducked his head, hair falling across his face to hide his expression. When he spoke, his voice hitched.

“What aid didst thou seek?”

Viper pulled food from the sack, and slid the steaming container toward him. 

“Can you help me write a letter?”

—

Amidst the endless requisition orders and combat reports came an envelope stamped from Ul'dah. Aymeric slit it open, and unfolded the letter within. He studied the messy script, occasionally re-reading the less legible words.

Lord Commander,

Thank you for the gloves and materials. Ishgard's debt to me is, of course, insurmountable, but these will do for now. Perhaps you could tell me about the Holy See? Do you have a favorite place there? What are the fashions like? And the food?

I look forward to seeing you at the celebration banquet. Have you ever been to Ul'dah? I would consider it a payment toward your debt if you would allow me to show you the best places in the city upon your visit. (Are Temple Knights allowed merriment? If not, I think you should make an exception. I am greatly skilled at having fun.)

Until we meet again, 

Viper Mulligan

Aymeric found himself smiling at the letter. For some reason, a few “thou”s had been crossed out and replaced with “you”s, and misspelled words similarly corrected. 

Merriment was scarce these days. He wondered if he could make an exception. 

After re-reading the letter again, he took a piece of blank stationary and began to write.

[rivenroad]

Further Dawntrail MSQ thoughts

I've been thinking more about my overall view of Dawntrail, and going back over a few parts of the MSQ that I wasn't entirely sure what to make of.

While I do like many things about it, I feel that there's something missing from every part of it. I wondered if it was the pacing, which was a huge problem for me in Endwalker and hampered my enjoyment of much of the story, but I'm not sure it's that simple. Giving each part of the story more time might help, but I feel that depth is actually the key problem.

A number of characters could have done with more active, noticeable development. Wuk Lamat, despite having a lot of on-screen time, was relatively static as a character... I don't think she necessarily needs to change, or go through something huge, but perhaps there should have been something to challenge her more, or develop her relationships with others more deeply?

I think there were things that were supposed to achieve this, like her relationship with her brothers and with Sphene, but somehow it didn't leave as much of an impact as I felt like it should.

And then there's the Scions... who... I didn't really want to be there to begin with, but if they were going to be there - and with the idea of "conflict" between them being a major part of the game's pre-release trailer and advertising - I would really have liked to see something of substance. I already said it in my previous post, but please... if there isn't a good reason for the Scions to be there, if they aren't actually significant to the story in any way, please give them a rest...

While I wouldn't exactly say the story felt rushed to me, again there were just so many moments that seemed like missed opportunities to deepen the impact of certain events or characters. Some things felt like they outstayed their welcome, and others felt like they were over too quickly, or just scraped the surface of something that could have been an interesting idea, but didn't go far enough.

One of the things I really enjoy about XIV's story is its unpredictability - even if I don't agree with every decision made with Endwalker, it was not predictable to me, and unfortunately Dawntrail was at several points. The situation with Alexandria was perhaps the only big revelation of the whole thing, and I did like that a lot - but it was followed by a rather formulaic series of events.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I recently experienced a major loss in my life and thus I would expect a story dealing with that subject to be impactful, but aside from one or two moments that I appreciated, most of the time it didn't make me feel much. I think perhaps if you are someone who hadn't thought much about the ideas that it addresses before, it might be more meaningful, but... we already had a much more impactful examination of dealing with loss and grief in this very game. I'm not sure if Sphene's similarity to Emet-Selch was supposed to be a meaningful callback, but unfortunately it just read as "we've already been through this".

I also wonder if the set structure of the game is hampering the story, both the way dungeons and trials are laid out, and the strict patch release schedule. Both good things for a game, but less so for allowing a story to take an appropriate form. I think pacing was handled very well in Shadowbringers, so it is possible for it to work out, but in my opinion every other expansion could be better from this angle. Might just be something we have to live with, though, because I don't see that changing any time soon.

Then again, sometimes they do away with formulae. I'm glad the zones in this expansion no longer followed the same split-level concept that was getting a little old at this point. I'm also glad they didn't reuse the "second city aetheryte inaccessible" thing yet again. That was very effective in Shadowbringers when it aligned with the narrative, but less so in Endwalker...

There's also the matter than we now have mimicked the final MSQ dungeon concept twice in a row since Amaurot happened. I found that a little tedious in Endwalker but with Alexandria, I actually quite enjoyed it... I can't really say why it's different, maybe it's just that my overall dissatisfaction with Endwalker contributed.

But anyway, the future remains to be seen.

[papalo-palo]

WHM 51, MSQ 34 - Lord of Crags

I could not sleep. My failures in Dzemael Darkhold would not permit me to settle and my fears that I am inadequate for the role I have chosen gnaw at any comfort the inn bed was providing. It was far too late at night to make my way to Stillglade Fane for consultation with my betters in the Conjurer's Guild, so I attempted to meditate and commune with the elementals instead.

I sat with the whispering rod that I brought back from Dzemael Darkhold. It reminded me of the one that A-Ruhn-Senna bears, which is equally as dark in appearance, but hums quietly with power even though it is resting upon the Seedseer's back. When he bore his whispering rod in battle during the Quieting, I saw it shake and shimmer in his hand as if it were partaking of the aether he was channeling through it.

I did not realize how empty the whispering rod in my hand was until I attempted to use it as a focus for communing with the elementals. It was as if I was trying to fill a cracked cistern with a tea cup. I stopped trying to activate the rod and just sat still with the awareness of the elementals around me in this place.

All too soon, it was dawn. And with it came Y'shtola's missive. Her preparations at the kobold aetheryte were complete and a small cadre of Scions had volunteered to join me in facing Titan. I placed the whispering rod in safekeeping, took up the omnicrafter's gift, and went to face the navel of O'Ghomoro.

I did not understand the appeal of a free company until I met the Scions that would be accompanying me. It was the same marauder, thaumaturge, and lancer that ventured with me into Haukke Manor and Brayflox's Longstop! They failed to hide their relief that I would be their healer just as I failed to hide my relief that I would have trustworthy and predictable companions. Even though we have worked together only briefly, we knew each other to know our respective limits. I knew I would not be saving the lancer from the siren's call of causing maximum damage like I have had to do to other melee players more determined to finish a chain of strikes as they were trained to do than to survive the encounter as they are supposed to do.

If joining a free company meant becoming part of a steadfast group of adventurers that one could learn to depend on and be dependable to, then I see why the Company of Heroes became the legends that they did. But I am also reminded of the cost they paid to bring Titan low the first time, and the degree to which Wheiskaet tested me, and the constant background cacophony around the Gridania aetheryte of gossip and adventurers begging for free company signups and… well… I have the Scions to help me train and grow stronger so what happened in Dzemael Darkhold will not happen again.

Once we face Titan.

I had scarce finished nodding to Y'shtola at the kobold aetheryte when I had to blink at the sudden pressure of overheated air squeezing me. The Scions and I struggled to breathe in the navel of O'Ghomoro. We were now standing on a solitary pillar in the heart of the kobolds' mines, and not very far from the heart of the volcano itself. However, we stood alone, with neither primal nor kobold to take to task, and no means of leaving the pillar for the platforms surrounding us.

A series of screeching called my attention to focus. We turned to face the source and saw a large kobold wearing the gear and mask of a kobold patriarch. The patriarchs are the high priests of the kobold society, and as such are capable of summoning Titan and his power to lord over the lower ranks. The patriarch was calming the kobolds that had witnessed our entry and realized that their aetheryte had been compromised.

"Brothers and sisters, fear him not! His fate shall be decided by the Lord of Crags!" I saw the scepter he waved over his head and realized that behind him were crates of crystals. When the kobolds silenced themselves, the patriarch then addressed me and my fellows. He detailed how the Lominsans had broken the peace treaty that had been mutually agreed upon, how his people were being slaughtered and forced from lands that were theirs by right. No more would the kobolds permit any overdweller to reside on the island. They would be taking back what was always theirs by right.

"You shall be the first to face judgement! Then Limsa Lominsa and her oathbreakers–liars, betrayers, oathbreakers!"

A flicker of doubt chilled me. This was not the first time that I had heard the allegation that the Lominsans were the aggressors against the beast tribes. Alphinaud spoke politically about it during the memorial, and Y'shtola braved the wrath of the Admiral when she spoke plain and direct. But now to hear the charge being laid by the affected peoples made me wonder if we were right to undo Titan. Were the kobolds really just defending themselves?

"Make ready!" I heard the marauder's grip tightening on his axe before I realized what words were being blown across the chasm to the pillar. I looked up and saw the patriarch and other kobolds were now in positions of prayer.

"O Great Father, Lord of Crags! Titan, we summon You! Titan, we summon You! O Great Father, Lord of Crags! Titan, we summon You! Titan, we summon You!"

The very air was pulled in from all directions to a point over the center of the pillar. I could feel the aether being drawn in from the crystals next to the patriarch, from the magma in the chasm below us, and from the great masses of rock surrounding us. If it were not for our training, the summoning ritual would have pulled aether from our very bodies, weapons, and gear, tempering us in the process. But we held fast, each and every one.

I did not need to hear the kobolds' loud chittering to know what the bright flash and pressure wave from the center of the pillar meant. "He is come! He is come! The Lord of Crags, Titan is come!"

Where the form of Ifrit is all taut sinew and lean musculature, Titan at first glance, resembles an outcropping of rock. Stubby legs that are short in proportion to his body and thick clubs of arms that appear to be too massive to move, Titan ground his teeth and looked down on us with complete contempt.

With an eloquence that unnerved me, the primal laid out the charge against the Lominsans, before being specific with his ire against us. I do not know how he knew we had unmade Ifrit already, but he added that action to the list of crimes that he will be sentencing and executing us for. Having exhausted his patience for speech, he roared his murderous intent.

I don't know why I cast my air spell onto him. No, I do know why. Because that is what I have been trained to do. My air spell is admittedly weak and is as effective as a chigoe on a banemite, but over time that damage does add up. However, the spell called Titan's attention to me. His massive form moved much faster than I thought it could and in two short steps, he was one step away from crushing me.

But for all his speed, the marauder moved faster. The axe swept up from the floor and gouged deep in Titan's leg. Now extra furious, the primal turned his attention away from me and towards the metal encased Lominsan that dared to laugh at the underground god. The marauder led Titan away from me to the other side of the pillar with the same ease as luring a child with a piece of candy. The lancer followed closely behind while the thaumaturge remain standing beside me, already hurling globs of fire at the primal's back.

The tumult of Titan's presence caused the heat of the pillar to strike us. Even though the lancer, thaumaturge, and myself were never hit by the primal's direct strikes, we all were damaged by virtue of being in the area. Rather than wait for everyone's health to severely drop before trying to address the matter, I attempted to cast one of my recently learned spells, a blessing of health that would also infuse our bodies with the ability to continue to heal for a short time after the initial blessing. But I couldn't. The primal's presence was so oppressive, that even though we weren't tempered, we were still restricted by what we could do for as long as the primal was standing. It was like what happened in Haukke Manor and in Dzemael Darkhold, where our foe had an advantage over us just by existing.

Fortunately, I had not forgotten my initial lessons as a white mage and shifted my strategy to match. I called upon the elementals and found that despite being in the presence of a primal, I could still call upon the aether of the land itself. Entering into an almost-meditative state that one could call lucid dreaming, I was able to keep my mana reserves full even as I kept one eye on the marauder and one eye on the rest of the scions. As such, even after a direct strike, no one's health dropped to critical levels and everyone remained on their feet and functional.

Though, it was not as if we could stay standing in one spot for very long. Titan may be massive, but he is as quick as he is eloquent. We all had to move quickly when he whirled to pummel the land and create a landsliding wave that threatened to knock his target (and anyone else in the way) off of the pillar. He would call out the land to avenge the sins we were accused of, and if we were not paying attention, the very ground under our feet would assault us to great damage with its weight. At times, he even shook the pillar with such intensity that the edges began to crumble and we found ourselves with less and less room to maneuver and dodge.

The worst was when he would call the land to seize one of us, imprisoning the scion in a granite gaol that the free scions would have to swiftly dismantle lest the trapped scion be crushed by the solidifying rock. Titan would gaol one scion as bait, wait for the rest of us to move to free them, and then strike the ground to throw the rescuers off of the pillar.

But we each knew our abilities, and more importantly, we each knew the limits of our peers! We played our roles to the best of our abilities such that little by little, the great mountain primal was worn down and eventually undone. As his body fell, he called out to the kobolds, exhorting them to flee in fear for their safety. This touched me and made me again wonder if we were in the right.

As if to echo my worry, as the kobolds obeyed their god's last words, the patriarch that summoned declared that our actions were just more overdweller crimes, and that they would never be forgotten. He called out again that it was the others, the Lominsans, that broke the covenant. That the kobolds were acting only in defense of their lands.

While my fellow scions cheered the demise of Titan and the retreat of the kobolds, I stood in thoughtful silence and remembered my uncle's friends. How battle-weary they were. How grateful they were that my mother never asked them to repel any beasts from the woods around the farm. How they could sit at the table without worrying that someone would attack them from behind. I used to wonder why would they fear such a thing happening.

As the patriarch took up the rear of the retreat, I understood and closed my eyes in silent prayer that all I do be done for the good of, and in the light of, the Crystal. I opened my eyes to see a yellow crystal shard, of the same hue as Titan's heart, of the same hue as boiling magma, sitting still at my feet. The moment my attention fell upon it, it activated and power came from it to engulf me.

I found myself standing in the center of the ornate seal again. Around me were the three crystals of light that I had already encountered, each one attuned to a different element. The earthen crystal of light took its place upon the seal and showered me with a light and power that I felt healing my body and restoring my soul. I knew then, that while I was being used as a political tool by the Admiral for the immediate sense, I was following the path that had been set for me since birth. Hydaelyn's grace soothed my doubts.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Y'shtola teleporting from the above-ground aetheryte to the pillar. She noted that the battle had ended and that she could feel the primal's presence cease even from her station at the aetheryte. Noting that the kobolds were in disarray, she noted the obvious that this was not the time for a debriefing, but for the scions, one and all, to leave before the kobolds came back for revenge. I agreed and asked that she teleport the others out first. She tilted her head, half in agreement and half in curiosity, but said nothing as she worked her magics and cleared the area. Before sending me on my way, she said that there was something that she had to investigate before we could speak further. Once back on the surface, she would rendezvous with me at Camp Bronze Lake.

I don't have the habit of arguing with any person capable of teleporting me into the middle of the ocean, so of course I agreed, and I was sent on my way. After seeing to the repairs of my gear and saying goodbye to my fellow trusted Scions, I did meet up with Y'shtola in Camp Bronze Lake. She tasked me with reporting to the high commander of the Maelstrom forces while she took care of another matter. Quite exhausted, I hired a chocobo porter to ferry me to Limsa Lominsa rather than take the risk that I fall asleep and direct Sable off the nearest cliff. The chocobo is far too young to take to flying just yet.

Once at Limsa Lominsa, I reported to the Storm Commander immediately. She had already heard the news but wanted it confirmed in person just the same. While she saluted me, the other soldiers were less formal in their cheers and salutations for removing the primal threat. I realized then that destroying Titan was the right thing to do as the primal would have destroyed everything perceived as a threat to the kobolds. He would undo homes and farms with the same ease as directing lava flows and landslides. I will leave it to more savvy heads to consider the actions that brought the threat of Titan to Limsa Lominsa now that the threat has passed.

As I left Storm Command, Minfilia contacted me by linkpearl. Y'shtola had told her of what happened in the Navel and Minfilia could not wait to congratulate me for not only felling Titan, but doing so without injury! I thought of all the healing spells I had to cast during the fight and quietly wondered if there was a different word for all the wounds that I had sealed up in my and my fellows' bodies. She promised me a hero's welcome when I returned to the Waking Sands, and made it clear that I was required to report to the Waking Sands at once.

I wanted to comply. I really did. But my first thought after she closed the linkpearl connection was to go back to the Carline Canopy and take a nap. And by a nap, I mean a rest. And by a rest, I mean, as I sit in the Carline Canopy writing these words, it is my intent to sleep for a week. There are no further primal threats known to the Scions. Between Yda and Papalymo, Urianger, Thancred, and Y'shtola, there are many better eyes and ears paying attention to the social and political goings on of the world than me. Minfilia herself is capable of leading the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and any army or company besides. There is no emergency so great that they require me, specifically, to attend to them at once. I may call myself a white mage, but I am no A-Towa-Cant who is able to commune with the elementals as if he were one himself.

And so here, I will finish my ale, finish my slice of eel pie, finish my entry in this diary, and then finish my day. Once I wake up, I will return to the Waking Sands and see what a hero's welcome looks like.

May you, dear reader, ever walk in the light of the crystal.

[alannah-corvaine]

How does your OC make money? Do they have a respectible profession or work a series of odd jobs? Are they a criminal? Or do they get creative in the pursuit of coin?

GET TO KNOW THE OC ASKS

So Alannah gets a monthly stipend from the Scions that covers her basic needs (as do they all, in my mind) such as food, inn rooms, aetheryte travel, and repairs.

She also gets a lot of gifts and donations from people that she's helped, but most money gifted to her goes back into investing in the rebuilding of destroyed or impoverished communities.

On top of that, she also receives fees for her work purifying corruption if she's specifically hired to do that, which she often is (though she'll just as often do it for nothing at all if she happens to randomly run across places that need help). A portion of those fees is tithed back to the Conjurer's Guild as a matter of respect and support.

And then after all that, Alannah unknowingly has a large inheritance waiting for her when her grandmother dies. She's the favorite grandchild of Fayre Harlow, who happens to be married to the very wealthy trade baron Fasshon Fuqushon. She gets a sizeable portion of their estate when they die, so she'll eventually be set for life, but for now she has no idea and lives a relatively modest lifestyle.

@parfaitpuffballpanic thank you for the ask!

[daughterofdoma]

Returning Home: Limsa Aethryte (Part 3)

This is part three of a series of Post-6.0 but Pre 6.1 Gpose stories I’ve created for Akiko’s journey back to Doma to say farewell to her family who perished in the razing of Monzen.  In Ultima Thule, G’raha asked the WoL to take him to Ishgard properly, as well as embark on other adventures, so this is my version of that promise fulfilled. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Current Post) Part 4

This one was way too fun.  Imagining how G’raha Tia would respond to the Aetheryte Plaza was enjoyable.  Of course, he’s been through Limsa before, but apparently trusted the advice of other travel companions and avoided to the Plaza itself.  Not this time, as Warrior of Light took him straight through it.  Whoops!  It’s old news to her, but to him... BOOTY.  Booty EVERYWHERE.  Clutchin’ pearls. Also spot the easter egg!  Only certain people will get it!

[khepri-sunscale]

An Interlude in the Desert (Find me if you can!)

So my brain was nice enough to pop out a new outfit idea for Khepri and I wanted to record it before I forgot. Disclaimer that I am in no way a writer, but it does share a bit of what Khepri has been up to since Endwalker.

Khepri breathed in the dry dusty air around him. It was such a change from the wet humidity of the island but refreshing in it's own way. He wiped at his sweaty brow, heavy fringe having gotten longer. His hair had some wave to it now, bits and pieces braided with bright threads (Raha's doing). He had been loathe to leave their quiet island paradise but the time had come. At first it had just been Raha, Nai and him but over time their friends had trickled in. While friends were always welcome, their various requests for assistance were not, not to mention the messengers that had come with the same. He knew he was still the Warrior of Light in his own way and he had a calling to serve the greater good…but he deserved a break. So he'd left the island in the care of the mammets and headed out towards Rhalgr's Reach. It was time he paid an old miqo'te friend there a visit, not to mention Lyse and M'naago. He just so happened to be taking the long way on foot from Ul'dah. Carby had quite loudly protested this the day before, happy to take a perfectly good aetheryte. Khepri had resisted, telling his vulpine companion it had grown spoiled over their months on the island. Thus Carby was ignoring him somewhere in the aetherial rift while Cheeto happily trotted behind him. Cheeto being a chocobo and all had missed the wide open expanses as much as his caretaker.

Khepri was thankful for the coverage of his newly acquired cloak to block out the brightness of the sun. He'd asked a favor from Tataru a while back for new traveling clothes. The ones he'd worn at the edge of the Universe now brought back too many memories. Too many almost losses. She'd delivered tenfold as always, it was like she'd reached into his own head.

The cloak was an off white with a large hood, shades lighter than his own horn and scales. It was embroidered with golden suns and moons along the edge and cut into bell sleeves gathered at the wrist. Circular cutouts along his shoulders and arms provided ventilation over a crop top of the same off white. Around his neck sat the same simple necklace of moons and stars in silver and gold his mother had given to him all those years ago. Passed down in his family to honor Azim and Nhaama. Around his hips sat a heavy brown leather belt with pockets for a series of vials on his left hip and his grimoire strapped to his right.

Below that was a pair of white shorts covered by a skirt over it that hit half way down his thigh. A slit inched up the left hand side to reveal the shorts beneath and allow for easy movement. Brown lace up leather sandals completed the look, a surprising sidestep from his former heeled boots. Tataru had taken his concerns into mind when he'd said breathable and he appreciated it. Ahhh and not to forget a twisted wooden staff that doubled as both help on rockier terrain and to hit any enemies with if they came too close. The ensemble felt like a good start to a new chapter.

He continued onward at a steady pace, he could tell it was only a few hours from sunset. When the messengers inevitably found him at the Reach he would probably visit the First. Ha! He grinned to himself, see if they could follow him across shards. He thought not.

[morocosmos]

Returning - Epilogue

Intro chapter | Thancred | Urianger | Y’shtola | Alphinaud, Estinien | Tataru | Alisaie, Krile | G’raha

Warrior of Light & Erenville

Takes place during Endwalker, just after the end of 6.0. This is a series of vignettes on each of the Scions’ relationships with my Warrior of Light, Moro’a as he’s recovering after the end of the Final Days.

We made it to the end! Thank you to anyone who’s enjoyed these, whether you read one, a couple or all of them :>

It’s a chilly morning, early enough that some of the market stalls in the Agora have yet to fully open. Moro’a takes his time, walking slowly as he takes in the sea air and the quiet bustle of Sharlayan scholars and students, out procuring supplies and sundries. From across the plaza, he sees a small group of Ironworks engineers hurrying past the aetheryte, and even a handful of Gridanian conjurers at the benches, gawping at the sights around them.

Change, Moro’a thinks to himself, suppressing a yawn and wrapping his scarf around his neck an ilm tighter as a breeze rushed through the Agora, before settling on an empty bench.

The Scions had agreed to embark for the Rising Stones by the end of the sennight, giving Moro’a ample time to rest and build up his strength before the voyage. In an effort to do just that, he’d been going on walks such as this around Old Sharlayan. He’s growing a little stronger every day, but still has to be careful not to overexert himself. Dawn has proven to be the best time for walks; while he doesn’t entirely wish to be left alone, less attention from passersby means more energy for walking, and he much prefers appreciating the simultaneously quiet, yet bright atmosphere, watching as sunlight gradually bathes the city’s white stone buildings in a rosy golden hue.

But change is still on his mind, as it had been for several days now, and with it the certainty that it would come about soon for him and the Scions. Estinien would sooner or later embark wherever the wind took him. Thancred had already mentioned his and Urianger’s plans, while Krile and G’raha spent more and more time in the Annex these days, and Y’shtola in the Noumenon. There’d also been murmurs between the twins about Garlemald, wishing they could do more there, and Tataru has her business to run. Each Scion’s desires had begun to draw them along different paths, some converging and others not.

It was bound to happen, now that the mission that brought us together has concluded, Moro’a thinks to himself. He’s not sure how to feel about it; happy and upset are far too extreme for the precipice they stand upon now.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A low, musical voice brings Moro’a out of his reverie, and he turns around to see Erenville approach from behind.

“Erenville.” Moro’a finds himself glad to see the gleaner. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” Erenville wears a light, warm smile, and he hesitates before adding, “countless people were concerned for your well-being when you returned from your mission…myself amongst them. But if you are here, I trust your recovery proceeds at a welcome pace, then?”

Moro’a nods, briefly explaining his treatment and how the Scions would be leaving for Limsa Lominsa within the next few days. Erenville takes it all in stride and without comment, until he poses another question. “What next, then?”

What next, indeed? The Scions may well not be needed anymore, which leaves me free to do just about anything, he considers saying. He’d told Thancred he’d like to go adventuring, but he hadn’t quite expressed how impatiently eager he’s become to do just that – to take the unknown road and venture forth to wherever it might lead him. The same desire that’d led him to Eorzea in the first place, more than a decade ago now.

“I’d like to go somewhere new,” he answers, looking out towards the ocean. “Or perhaps someplace I can see with new eyes. But not as some champion or saviour. I’d like to just be myself – just any other adventurer, if you would. Find some stories that don’t revolve around being a hero.”

Erenville doesn’t reply immediately. In fact, the viera appears to be deep in thought, as though suddenly thrust into some sort of internal debate. There’s a sparkle to his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as though Moro’a’s words had done something to capture Erenville’s own spirit, and it makes him wonder. What's your story?

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was simply distracted by, ah, a quandary of my own,” Erenville responds at length, shaking his head. Upon seeing Moro’a’s curious expression, the viera tilts his head ever so slightly to the side. “That being said, while gleaners go wherever we are needed, it does result in a healthy amount of travel. Not that much different from the life of an adventurer, in some respects.” Erenville taps his chin. “Should our paths happen to align…I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a means to contact you? Depending on where my work takes me and the timing thereof, I might just appreciate having an experienced travelling companion.”

Oh? It’s Moro’a’s turn to consider the other’s words. Erenville had worded it as a suggestion, and yet something about the way he said it made it sound more like an invitation. It might just be the adventure Moro’a’s looking for, and he can’t say he’s not interested in getting to know the gleaner better. “I can pass you a linkpearl before we leave for Limsa Lominsa – find me here at the same time tomorrow if you can make it,” he replies, and Erenville nods with a smile.

“Excellent. Well, I’d best be off for now. Can’t make good on my offer if I don’t take the necessary steps to make it happen,” he says, more than a little mysteriously. They bid each other goodbye, and as the viera heads off in the direction of the Annex, Moro’a turns his attention back to the horizon.

Days and days spent confined in the Technon had sprouted seeds of wanderlust in him like never before, eager to bloom. But Moro’a knows that much and more have served to propel him on the path he wishes to walk now: an old friend’s footsteps. Cryptic parting words from an enemy turned ally, and the sun-coloured crystal he keeps close by. The words of the tireless woman who’d beseeched him to champion her cause, but who had celebrated the spirit of adventure in him as well, long before they would meet in this life.

Has your journey been good? Has it been worthwhile? It has, he thinks to himself, but I’m not done yet. And whether or not the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would still exist in the days to come, it’s comforting to know that they would continue to be there for each other, come what may.

[wickedfuncrafts]

January's limited scent release is Salt Swept; inspired by Limsa Lominsa. No better place to start The Aetheryte Series than where your WoL started their journey!

Salt Swept combines the scents of sea ozone, marine waters, & coastal musk.

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2022 Prompt #28 - Vainglorious

Hien had many titles, all of which he claimed proudly. Hien, Prince of Doma; Hien the Builder of Doma; Hien the Generous; Hien the Peacemaker; Hien the Great.

There were those that griped that was exactly the issue with this man, this ruler. His father's son indeed. Kaien watched as Hingashi sold the Domans out for its version of peace, and let its undesirables run amok in the Doman countryside. Kaien watched as the Garleans captured and subjugated their neighbors to the south in Nagxia, Bozja, and Dalmasca. Kaien watched as the invaders came in and took more and more land for themselves and let Doma fall to ruin. Kaien had many titles for himself too. The Great, The Wise, The Generous...

All of these titles, and none of the work.

But that was Kaien.

Hien was determined to not walk in his father's shoes, despite the long shadow the king cast. In his father, Hien saw a man who wanted nothing more than to fight and perhaps die gloriously in a grand war, but was shackled to the state, humbled by the need to feed ten million mouths and govern two thousand square malms of territory. In a prosperous time, perhaps Kaien would have gotten his wish, and the people would remember him better. But his fate was chained to a series of disastrous harvests and the sudden withdrawal of trade and industry from all of his neighbors. It was not as if Doma going to war would have fixed things. Doman iron and arrows would do next to nothing to Garlean steel and magitek. And he could not abandon his duties and leave his young son to rule while he warred abroad.

Hien laughed bitterly at the relative luxury he had claim to now, lush and fertile summers and calm and kind autumns, aetherytes to Eorzea, consistent trade and aid from across seas, even airships landing in Doma! Hingashi's determined isolation was Doma's boon as the Eorzeans exchanged goods with Domans and not their wealthier neighbors.

Things were not perfect, no. Eorzeans were shrewd traders and took advantage of the Domans' relative poverty, he found himself often torn between the Eorzean Alliance's needs and the needs of his people, and now his neighbors were asking for aid as well as they started to throw off the shackles of their Garlean oppressors. But more and more Domans were able to eat until they were full now. More and more villages were rebuilding. His people would soon be able to hold their heads up high again.

He spent many a long week traveling the lands he was to govern, handing seeds to farmers and tools to craftsmen personally. He ate at their tables, humbly sitting on the same floors that they sat on, partaking in the same fare. He refused feasts and brought his own freshly caught fish or freshly hunted fowl. He heard stories from the last thirty years of pain and agony. He made promises to improve, and saw to it that his promises were fulfilled. He helped defend against bandits and even spoke with them as well once defeated or captured. He settled disputes and squabbles as best he could. He was not perfect. But when they saw him as not a prince, not a king, not a noble, but a person willing to listen to them and the will of the kami, he changed minds, slowly.

There was much still to do. Many fields still lay fallow where they lay and needed much weeding and tilling to be reclaimed from nature. Many parts of Yanxia were still lawless, left to neglect by his father and the Garleans both, and he had warlords to address. Some villages were abandoned, wartorn or disaster struck, and cried for revival. There was interest in renovated abandoned magitek to reuse as farm equipment, but no ceruleum reserves in the country to do it. But there was absolute improvement.

So it was that Hien took on those titles, but considered them aspirational, goals to meet, not things he was.

[satora-lhansi]

Day 2 - Horizon

Fufulupa’s irritation was only intensifying. Today had been a fairly quiet day in Horizon… at first. It all came crashing down when Eorzea’s heroes, the five Warriors of Light who had toppled the Praetorium and driven off Gaius van Baelsar, starting rushing back and forth through the settlement.

Their first trip through town was standard. They arrived via aetheryte and descended into the mine shafts to the west, presumably heading to the former headquarters of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to pick something or other up for their new base of operations. But then they came back not a few minutes later empty handed and left via the aetheryte. It’s not as though it were the Brass Blades’ business what the heroes were up to. Their demeanor did seem considerably more… confused if anything, but if they were departing it surely wasn’t anything too important. The Brass Blades would just have to go check the area later, make sure the region was still secure.

The Warriors came back, grumbling at a book. Fufulupa’s curiosity was piqued, but not enough to interrogate the quintet. Off to the west they departed, only to return again a few minutes later without the book harboring an even deeper cloud of confusion. They ran up to Fufulupa’s fellow Brass Blade stationed in Horizon, discussed something with him, then rushed over to the aetheryte and teleported away once more.

Fufulupa couldn’t help himself, the Warriors of Light were behaving rather oddly and he needed to know that Horizon was safe. The town was otherwise quiet, so he made a move across the plaza to speak with his fellow. “Giselberdus! What were the Warriors asking you about, might I ask?”

“Ah, nothing too important. They were asking after Memenugu, and I happened to know he was in the vicinity of Fesca’s Watch so I directed them there. They were rather cagey when I asked what they needed him for, mentioning only something about him knowing some steps?”

“How curious… well, as long as it was nothing we need to concern ourselves with, I suppose all is well.” With that, Fufulupa returned to his post, just in time to witness two merchants beginning to scuffle.

Another bell passed, and the Warriors returned once more. Their mood had soured considerably, with the Miqo’te hero (“Satora”, was it?) arguing with their Lalafellin companion. Fufulupa recognized him, Coconori and his adopted sibling Sibold had been common sights amongst the residents of Pearl Lane for years until they vanished and reappeared moons later as part of the Scions. Their Viera companion was scowling at the two of them, bopping them on the head as they exited town again into the mines, while their Hrothgar member released a howling cackle. The only words the Brass Blade managed to pick up were something about “moving forward and back”.

This continued into the next day. The Warriors would appear at the aetheryte, depart through the mines with ever worsening moods, only to return minutes later with confusion plastered all over their faces. Finally, Fufulupa had had enough. When they returned once more from the mines, Fufulupa marched over to the aetheryte to intercept them. “Just what has had you five marching in and out of Horizon for the last few days, causing disturbances every time? Is there something we need to know about?”

Confusion replaced instantly with startlement and shame, the heroes glanced at each other before Sibold spoke up. “My apologies, sir. We discovered a series of riddles left behind by the adventurer Winebaud and we sought to solve it. We had thought he may have left a treasure trove behind, but we just solved the last riddle and… well, the treasure was certainly not what we expected. The riddles were excruciating and it may have worn our patience a tad thin. I promise we will not let it happen again.”

Laughter. All of Horizon was made to know the laughter of a very stressed Brass Blade finally releasing days of tension. The Warriors of Light made it a point to avoid Horizon for the next several moons.

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #3: Tempest

(A/n: Another entry into the mini role quest rewrite series I'll be trying to do this month. This time its Alisaie in Ishgard for the magic quest! Cos she didn't really get a proper experience in Ishgard when she rejoined the story, so it'd be neat to give her the chance to see it here while dealing with the blasphemy. Especially since the magic storyline is focused heavily on the Chruch and old zealotry in the nation and how cast aside it all is in the wake of it all.

I'm also taking advantage of this being a light rewrite, cos I'm so used to the regular quests sending you directly to Aymeric's office to talk to him so much, I forgot how the role quest actually started and automatically wrote it at the congregation rather than the on the spot aetheryte meeting with Artoirel it actually was. And I didn't feel like re-rewriting to fit the quest layout. Welp.

It doesn't have to be 100% matching in dialogue and actions, just enough to be recognisable as the storyline with a new character involved. That's my feeling on rewrites and POV changes at least.

Word count: 1490)

Alisaie shivered as the frigid wind picked up, blowing snow into her face. While Ishgard certainly wasn’t as cold as Garlemald, to the point that she didn’t need as many heavy layers to handle Coerthan snowfall, it was still bitterly cold, especially coming from the humid Thavnair.

Her old coat was definitely better suited for this than her current attire, but she didn’t think to sidetrack back home to grab it when Fhara had asked her to come along and answer the Ishgardian delegate’s request for aid. And they were already outside the Congregation to meet Ser Aymeric for more information.

“I can’t imagine how Alphinaud managed here when you three fled from the Crystal Braves. He’s awful with the cold,” she huffed, already appreciating the warmth as they stepped over the threshold into the main hall.

“I think he tried to stay indoors as much as possible before Tataru made him the travelling gear that was better for the weather. Lord Fortemps gave him a little office in the manor to work in while he took on paperwork favours for folk,” Fhara said, a fond smile on her face as she recalled.

“Of course he did all the paperwork. I remember our Studium days, he was always working on papers and reports and all sorts. At least when he wasn’t engaging in some debate or flattery with his peers.” Alisaie rolled her eyes to the memory, already imagining him sitting surrounded by towers of books and papers. Perhaps it was unkind to him as he was now, long since grown from the experience, but if she had to imagine him at the time…

“I think he mainly wanted a distraction from everything that happened back then,” Fhara replied, no defensiveness in her tone, but it made Alisaie frown all the same, opting not to respond.

At that time, the nearby guarded door opened, a knight slipping out and trotting along to an officer by the large desk central to the room. The guard beckoned them over, saying, “Ser Aymeric will be free to see you now. Lord Artoirel is still engaged but should be joining you in due time.” Both ladies offered polite nods of thanks as they entered into the hallway and along to the meeting room.

As assumed, he was already waiting for them, and upon their arrival, he looked up from the paper he was reading and immediately broke out into a broad, warm grin at the sight of Fhara. Alisaie couldn’t help but feel overlooked as his gaze didn’t even seem to glance over her.

“Fhara, tis good to see you again,” he greeted, stepping round the table to meet with her. He stopped just short, a little bit close but made no move to touch or offer his hand. Just a polite bow, eyes never slipping.

“And you, though of course the circumstances aren’t…well,” Fhara coughed in an awkward greeting, ears lying low upon her head and eyes looking away from the man, shuffling back a step. Alisaie couldn’t help but tilt her head, confused at the response. Fhara then perked up again to continue, gesturing at Alisaie, “But I’ve brought Alisaie with me- you remember her? I figured she’d be a better help with any arcane skills since it isn't really my forte.”

Alisaie nodded, keeping steady eye contact now that she was finally being acknowledged by Aymeric. His welcoming smile was no less warm, but definitely more tempered compared to how he’d approached Fhara.

“Lady Alisaie, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Properly, I might add, given the circumstances you first arrived here all that time ago.”

Alisaie flushed and fought the urge to pout like a child over the reminder.

“Aye. I’ll be glad to show my appreciation for the treatment, and make a better show of myself in general.”

“I don’t doubt it, based on your brother’s tales,” Aymeric nodded. 

“Knowing my brother, I’m sure he’s only painted me in the finest light,” Alisaie frowned, ignoring the twinge of concern buzzing at the back of her mind. All the more reason to try and leave a good impression while she was here then.

Aymeric couldn’t help the bemusement that curled his lip ever so slightly, but before he could respond to it, the door behind them creaked open once more, to which he instead replied, “I’m sure Lord Artoirel could reassure you of what he’s heard from Master Alphinaud’s time here. Good to have you here at last.” Artoirel wasted no time on introductions save a brief bow of acknowledgement to both ladies.

“Indeed, forgive me for the delay. The reports on the Blasphemy’s appearances are more numerous every time we investigate, and despite the fact that it never attacks, the panic left in its wake causes more and more people to turn,” he said.

“Tis passing strange indeed, but no less dangerous for the impact it leaves on the people here,” Aymeric mumbled, “Ishgard is still recovering from the wounds of the Dragonsong War, both physical and mental. It will take many years and most likely many generations before people are truly comfortable with dragons, but to have a beast in the form of a dragon lingering and causing havoc with but a single appearance, even without taking action, it could risk tensions rising once more, even if people weren’t turning due to the fear.” He cast another glance at Alisaie, a curious look in his eye that she immediately knew how to read.

“You needn’t worry about catching me up on matters here. I was aware of the broad facts of your long war from books at the Studium, and Alphinaud updated me on the tale once I rejoined the Scions. I’m aware that in the wake of drawing the war to a close, there was much unrest - not only people lacking trust in their draconic enemies truly ending the war, but also much internal distrust and concern, such as between the high- and lowborn, and toward the Church.”

“He certainly did well to apprise you, my lady,” Artoirel said, sounding somewhat impressed, “But indeed, Ishgard is still internally shaken. We have much debate over how to move forward and where best to allocate resources, and our class divisions cause much difficulty and moving forward, especially where dragons are concerned. But faith in the Church is still at its lowest. Understandably so given the power it held with the Archbishop in charge and the many thousand years promoting misinformation and zealotry.”

“I could see members of the Church being particularly vulnerable to this blasphemy’s influence with the current atmosphere,” Aymeric said, “To which end, I would speak with a clergyman to gain insight into the beast. He supposedly witnessed the man that transformed into our now wandering dragon.”

“A witness that didn’t then transform himself?” Fhara gaped, sharing a glance of equal surprise with Alisaie.

“Miraculous as it may be, we shan’t overlook the opportunity it gives us to find out who this beast may have originally been. If we can learn that much, we can maybe find out why they may have turned in the first place.”

The group nodded at Artoirel’s declaration, and Fhara proceeded to follow him out of the room, Alisaie being halted by Aymeric for a brief moment.

“I should hope that if your brother told you much about the war, he’s also warned you of our people’s tendencies. I would be the first to admit that we are a pious city to the point of blind zealotry, and it can make many here…difficult to contend with. And the attitudes toward outsiders still haven't truly been lost, even with all Fhara has done for us.”

Alisaie regarded him carefully, turning the warning over in her head. Then she finally crossed her arms and tried to look confident.

“My brother has shared some other stories of his time here beyond the journey into dragon territory, so I have some idea of what to expect. But I take it you wouldn’t warn me if you didn’t think it’d be needed. So I appreciate it. And I shall try my best to keep a cool head, though I’ll warn you in turn that I’m not the diplomatic type like Alphinaud is, if you need someone more delicate with their words.”

“Duly noted,” he replied, though he had a dark look in his eye despite the friendly smile he tried to hide it with, “But I can handle the more delicate exchanges, my lady. Perhaps at this time, we may even need someone willing to be blunt enough for people to fully understand what’s happening and where we’re going from here.”

The implication in his words almost sent a shiver through her, before she chased after him back out the building. At least then, she could attribute it to the cold from the building storm as they made their way to the Cathedral on the upper levels.

[sunderedazem]

Hello! I'm back haha, hoping you guys haven't gotten tired of me yet. Just reread alone amongst the wreck again (sorry I keep talking about that series, I adore your unsundered au too but I have too great a soft spot for the old men) and that one line where emet selch says he wasn't quite sure if he was loved at the end hit me like a brick to the face. You guys have many lovely bricks but oooooh this one. I know his fallout with Helios was covered in the first fic, but I was kind of wondering what Helios would think of Emet Selch now, after all these centuries exhausted and alone? Would Emet Selch have said/agreed to any of those things untempered? This old man definitely needs hugs and I'm so glad he lets G'raha give them (for now).

Speaking of G'raha, can I confirm that he's not a shard of Hythlodaeus? I know some other authors have done that and despite liking that trope I've always found it slightly tragic. It feels like in your story G'raha's Ancient form never met the polycule? I'm curious if Emet Selch had met him before, would they have become involved? Or would it be a 'right person, wrong time' kind of situation?

Thank you so much to you and your co-author for writing these fics and continuing to write them in the future, they always make me happy-squeal and kick my feet when I read them XD. I hope you guys are having fun with dawntrail despite the wonky writing I've heard it's had, and thank you for taking time out of your days to answer my asks! Take care of yourselves :D

we are NEVER tired of you! I am giving you the biggest wettest cat eyes of held-back tears - thank YOU for sending us such sweet asks! Literally highlight of the week, lol!

So, with regard to that first paragraph of questions - we actually have an AU or two where Helios passes out on leaving the Convocation like that and gets taken home to sleep it off, and the *first* thing he realizes when he wakes up is that none of the Convocation are themselves - they're all tempered, though he doesn't have that word for it yet. The only reason he doesn't realize it on that first meeting is- because he is exhausted and sick, and he's barely on his feet. This is also why he's horribly irritable and snaps at Emet-Selch so cruelly.

So, in short - if he'd even waited just a little longer, let alone after the centuries and millennia that Emet-selch has endured - he would be clinging to this man, and trying to find a cure, and essentially just. a very tearful koala, because he would feel responsible for what Emet-selch became, since he wasn't there to stop it, or see the descent of the Convocation.

And on that note- we think that Emet-selch would have agreed, mostly, to the plans proposed by Elidibus as Zodiark, and when we (lol unsurprisingly) unfridge him, we do have him still agree with most of what he's done. But the biggest part of it, the planning to resurrect their fallen brethren through mass sacrifice - this is what he wouldn't agree to, untempered, and without that the rest of the plan kind of falls apart. We think he'd see this as a perversion of the Lifestream it's his job to monitor and watch over the souls of the dead/those using aetherytes, and- as Younger!Emet-selch says in Elpis, it would be an insult to their memory to do something like recreate Amaurot. Which, of course, appropriately fucks him UP when he realizes that he *was* tempered and therefore so was the rest of the Convocation and etc. G'raha really DOES need to give him hugs, lmao.

(There will also be a line, probably, from Corrain or G'raha or both, about how he built the empire that gave them the technology to cure tempering. In a way, he made his own cure)

And then, G'raha- he is not a shard of Hythlodaeus. We actually do have a shard of Hythlodaeus OC for use in some AUs- an all-lavender Viera named Liokki. But anyway, in my own headcanons, G'raha doesn't actually have an ancient counterpart- he was one of those souls formed by the Lifestream after the Sundering, and as such he's a little *less* well defined, and more able to be layered back into his own younger body and soul as he is at the end of Shadowbringers patches. I have this HC mostly because I think it's very crunchy for Emet-selch to fall in love with someone who literally has never existed Unsundered, hehe

thank you for the questions! I'll tag lee in in case xey want to add anything? @azems-familiar pspspspspspsps