#FFXIVWrite 2024

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #18: Hackneyed

---

Mathye inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled and closed his eyes. Exhaled and opened them. No luck. He was still staring down Ran'jit's chief flunky and assorted minions. Halone was quiet--the Greatwood was still filled with the tainted Light. Priming was out of the question--even more so that Ran'jit had figured out a way to temporarily block their Eikons. Mathye didn't trust that Eulmore's general wouldn't come flying out of nowhere to hit him on some vital energy point. Which meant he had to do things the old fashioned way.

As if you mind. A whisper from Halone, quiet mirth in her tone. Mathye smirked. She was right, of course. His goddess knew him well.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" He addressed the Chief Flunky. Names were irrelevant, he was either going to scare the bastard absolutely shitless or kill him. Both were preferable.

"I have heard every single hackneyed insult under the sun when I was home. I doubt there is anything here on this world that would stick, and based on your particularly...inspired insipid performance, I'm inclined to think that I'm right! 'Monster' is not going to get any sort of rise out of me. I've heard it before. I'm going to continue hearing it. Demon? Also heard that one before too. Darkness-damned? That's new but it doesn't have the bite that you think it would have!" The flunky and assorted minions were starting to back away in fear at the expression on the healer's face. Mathye hummed, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Let's see...I've been called frost-gash manwhore, I must admit that one was creative! The one who said it got disemboweled a few moments later. Unfortunate for him, my baby brother was in the room with us. He's very good with a sword, I'm quite proud of him." Mathye took one step forward, and the Eulmorans took one step back.

"Stay away!" The Chief Flunky got out, panic in his tone.

"Mmm..." Mathye pressed his lips together, thinking. "No."

[lady-protector]

18. hackneyed (make-up)

“What are your plans for Starlight?” The question slipped out before Aymeric had the chance to think better of it, and he winced at the flat stare Estinien sent him in response.

They hadn’t known each other terribly long, and been tentative friends an even shorter period of time, but even so, Aymeric knew how sensitive the other man was to any even oblique mention of his family.

He cast about for a follow-up statement that wouldn’t sound completely trite, and settled on a peace offering: “My mother makes an excellent holiday roast, if you’d like to come by. Far better than anything we can afford on our pay, and I wouldn’t wish the Congregation’s idea of Starlight dinner on my worst enemy, much less a friend.”

A grunt was his only answer, and Aymeric sighed internally. He hadn’t expected much, honestly. The dragoon-in-training was recalcitrant on his best day, but he was also unfailingly loyal, and completely unconcerned with social status in a way that was incredibly refreshing. Aymeric liked him a great deal, even with his sour attitude – and if Estinien accepted the invitation, maybe it would stop his mother from fussing about him being lonely, which always inevitably led to her trying to persuade him to live at home rather than the barracks.

Aymeric had not had many friends in his youth, and truthfully, joining the Temple Knights had been as much an attempt to find somewhere to belong as a place to prove himself and serve his city. He had hoped that his fellow recruits would judge him on his own merits, but the highborn gave him a large berth for the same baseless reasons they always had, and most of the lowborn sneered at the idea of another noble son playing knight – especially one who was his father’s heir. Spending his nights in the comfort of his childhood home would only make that problem all the worse.

Most days he attempted to distance himself from his parentage – both the truth and the rumor – but no one, not even his detractors, could begrudge him going home for Starlight.

And so he was sitting at the dining table, regaling his father with only slightly embellished stories from his recent forays into the highlands, while his mother put the finishing touches on a meal she still insisted on cooking herself, when there was a dull thud against the heavy wood of the front door.

His father always dismissed their meager household staff to their own family homes for the holiday, so Aymeric rose and hurried to the door himself, trying not to be too hopeful. Perhaps it was merely a group of carolers, or a friar accepting alms for the children of the Brume.

Opening the door revealed a rather disgruntled young elezen man, hair released from its customary tail, and clad in linen shirt and calfskin trousers that looked nice, if a bit rumpled, and entirely unsuitable for the season. Aymeric stared at him in shock for a moment, before his face cracked into a wide grin. “Estinien! I did not think you were coming!”

His excitement was met with a glare. “Are you going to let me in or not? It’s bloody cold out here.”

Aymeric stepped aside just in time to avoid being pushed aside as Estinien shoved himself through the doorway without waiting for an answer.

“My apologies. What made you change your mind?”

Estinien folded his arms across his chest, thin mouth set in an irritated line that Aymeric was beginning to suspect was partially embarrassment. “I never said no. And you were right, what they serve at the barracks tastes like chocobo’s arse,” he declared loudly, and Aymeric could hear a soft snort of laughter from his father in the dining room.

As they walked towards the dining room, Aymeric murmured a quiet, “mind your language in front of my mother, please.”

Estinien’s ears turned a bit pink, and suddenly he went from looking like a man of two and twenty to a boy of fifteen. “I’m not a bloody imbecile, I know how to behave,” he hissed back, and Aymeric very politely did not point out the hypocrisy in his word choice.

As they entered the dining room, so did the Lady de Borel, heavy silver platter held in delicate hands that had begun to shake more often than they did not. Leaving Estinien to stand in the doorway, Aymeric darted over to his mother and took the platter from her, ignoring her protests as he did so.

“Well, who’s this, then?” asked his father, peering at Estinien over his spectacles, and Aymeric smothered a laugh at how uncomfortable the man looked. ‘Twas uncharitable of him to find amusement there, but the man looked as if he had stepped onto a battlefield filled with dragons, rather than a friend’s home with his elderly parents.

“Estinien Varlineau, ser,” he responded, awkwardly, shifting his weight as if unsure of his welcome. “Aymeric invited me.”

As Aymeric put down the heavy platter of food, he decided to throw the poor man a lifeline. “Father, you will remember that I mentioned a young dragoon who saved my life two moons ago? That was Estinien, who has since become a good friend of mine. As he is unable to return home for Starlight, I invited him to ours.”

His mother gasped and walked over to Estinien, taking his hands in her own. “Oh, of course! Thank you so much for looking after our boy. Come, sit.” She tugged him towards the table and Estinien followed, looking a bit overwhelmed as she ushered him to the seat next to Aymeric’s own. His father rose and pulled out her chair for her as she walked back around the table, sinking into it gratefully, and Aymeric squashed a twinge of worry for how unsteady she seemed.

Estinien sat as he was bid, casting a slightly bewildered glance in Aymeric’s direction as he carved the roast and deftly transferred it to plates. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, isn’t it? As I recall, it was you saving my damned fool hide. Twice.”

Aymeric shot him a warning look, then shook his head, face falling back into a pleasant mien. “Ah, but if you had not wounded that dragon as you did, it would not have fled the battlefield, and instead finished what it began with the rest of our company. Thus I owe you my life, and my thanks.”

Ducking his head and fidgeting, Estinien didn’t say much throughout the dinner, only speaking when spoken to (and without any more swearing, praise Halone), save to compliment the cooking, which made Aymeric’s mother glow with pride. They had scarcely finished eating when his parents excused themselves, his father gently guiding his mother up the stairs as she leaned on him in exhaustion.

Aymeric sighed. Clearly she had overtaxed herself today – ‘twas likely that this would be the last Starlight dinner she cooked herself.

Turning to his guest, he held up the half-empty bottle of wine, then refilled only his own glass when Estinien shook his head. “I am glad you came. They worry too much, and I think you being here eased that somewhat. Or at least made them less likely to openly fuss over me.”

A faraway look came over Estinien’s features, doubtless thinking of his own parents, and he shook his head. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Fancy house aside, you actually live like people.”

“Glad I am to have disabused you of the notion that I am some spoiled little lordling, playing at war,” Aymeric responded, a faintly bitter twist to his words.

“Oh, have no doubt, I still think you’re spoiled. Just in a normal way, not the highborn brat way.” Estinien grinned and tossed back the last dregs of his wine as if it were a mug of ale.

Aymeric laughed and shook his head. “’Tis better than the alternative, I suppose.”

Wood scraped over stone as Estinien shoved his chair back. “I should be getting back, I’m sure they’ll have us doing drills in the morning.” He turned away as he stood, then paused, not looking back. “Thanks,” he muttered, then tromped towards the front door without another word.

Whether he meant for the invitation, or for the arrow to the eye of the dragon that nearly killed him, or for the offer of friendship, Aymeric didn’t rightly know, but it warmed his heart as surely as the wine did.

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 4. Reticent

Characters: Y'zel Tia, Y'shtola Rhul Expansion: Dawntrail Rating: G Summary: Y'zel is made to hear, feel, think Notes: No smoochies here. Are you proud of me?

“You are changed.”

Y’zel didn’t look up as Y’shotla stood before him, lazily separating his research notes from his students’ homework assignments. “Hm…have I?”

“I suppose it’s a mixed blessing. I don’t readily miss your mewling over your paramour’s, but I do feel the absence of your company,” Y’shtola said, pouring them tea before sitting down across from Y’zel at his desk. “Though, I suppose being the Doman Consort does keep you far from home.”

Y’shtola closed her eyes as she lifted her saucer so that she could take a cautious sip of her tea. Meanwhile Y’zel mostly ignored the gesture for a moment, straightening his paperwork before removing his glasses and leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “Home is it now? I cannot think of any one place I’ve stayed long enough to dub ‘home’.”

“And here I am the romantic one with the sentiment of home not being a residence but where the people they care for are. Perhaps, I too, have changed,” Y’shtola said, absently brushing her ear, or more accurately the earring upon it.

Y’zel didn’t respond, eyes attempting to avoid his cousin’s gaze as he idly fingered at the paperwork on his desk, only focusing upon her out of habit and necessity to read her lips. He opened his mouth briefly, almost finding himself rudely asking ‘Is that all?’; however, he decided it was best not to hurry her off and give cause to worry. “I am as I always have been. My mind is just full and my responsibilities continue to stack up before me.” 

Y’shtola shook her head. “I cannot, nor care to, imagine what mental gymnastics it takes to maintain your dual lives and keep your sanity. I can only ask as someone who cares for you to ensure you’re taking care of yourself. You’ve always had a way of…contorting yourself into a situation rather than seeing how or if you can fit into it naturally.”

The notion hung in the air, Y’zel flicking his ears back a little in annoyance as he was given unsolicited council. Still, he could not dismiss the observation made. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair he sat up and finally moved to nurse his tea. Y’shtola tapped her finger lightly against her mostly empty cup as she looked around the small office before setting it on the table. “I’ve interrupted enough of your time checking in. I should get back to the Annex and see what more Krile needs of me before she departs for Tural.”

“Tural?”

“Yes, Tural. It seems the New World has taken a keen interest in our friends. Tural’s Dawnservant has opened its borders to us to observe their Rite of Succession. My interests keep me here so I’ve not made plans to join the envoy, but I imagine it should prove enriching for those curious of distant cultures. At the very least it’ll help foster global citizenship post Final Days.”

With that, Y’shtola stood then walked from the room, leaving Y’zel to turn to a map of Hydaelyn and think.

[kannedia]

FFXIV Write - Day 2 - Horizon

Momodi helps a new adventurer. And the rumor mill of Ul'dah spins as it is wont to.

"In any case," Momodi kept her eyes on the letter in her hand, the corners of her mouth slowly curling. "I thank the Twelve you were there to help them."

It was funny. She had been working this job for many a summer, and she had seen a wide variety of a wide variety of things. This would ever count as a first for her.

Before the guild counter stood a stringy boy of an Elezen in full armor, this part was not odd given her profession. His gaze read of innocence and his stance was open, which was.

His name was Oscar Moreau. One of many new adventurers to grace her counter of late. A good lad. Though clearly one lacking a working internal compass.

"There's just one problem, Oscar." Momodi continued, stifling her laughter and exasperation both.

The lad all but froze.

"Is something wrong, Miss Momodi?" Oscar questioned, brow raising.

"You were supposed to report to Black Brush station, in Central Thanalan." She pointed out.

For a mercy, the lad was smart enough to look guilty at hearing this.

"You went so far to the west, that it's a wonder you didn't wind up in Horizon."

She would give him a second chance but the lad would never live this down. She could assure him of that.

[aerialsquid]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 17: Sally

(Continuation of this scene.)

Author Note: This fragment has a content warning for nonconsensual aether feeding that might tangentially resemble an assault. Idk how to tag this besides 'fantastical violation metaphorically resembling real world ones' but like. Make your reading choices accordingly.

--------

It didn't hurt, was the problem. Even with his chronic anxiety Martyn took far too long to realize something had gone terribly wrong. Dollmaker had put the weird mouth embedded halfway down its neck on Martyn before, after all. No reason to not assume this was more of its wet kisses. Whatever strange stilling of the aether that Dollmaker did to disassemble and reassemble its dolls meant there was no pain when the teeth sank into Martyn's shoulder and the vast, dark maw began to feed. 

There was an odd tugging, a sense of dizziness, a feeling of cold creeping along his arm and then a feeling of emptiness that even someone who'd touched every magical discipline Eorzea would allow had no vocabulary to describe - not just emptiness, but an active, sucking void, a whirlpool that he was being pulled into.

His weary mind frantically battered the pieces of his thoughts together with the strange sensation until finally, by a mercy, the answer snapped into place.

The voidsent was devouring his aether, bite by slow bite.

This wasn't – I didn't agree to this, stop this–

"My doll, precious doll, sweet doll," Dollmaker moaned. "And how delicious your essence. Sweet and potent, fluttering with purest life. Just a taste, doll, just a taste, you owe me that much, you owe me…"

The oddly comforting locks around his limbs now revealed themselves for the chains they had always been. Martyn couldn't move, couldn't scream as the teeth dug into his flesh. The massive tongue laved at his arm, drawing his essence in deeper down the voidsent's throat.

Nonononono

His cane was across the room, as useless as if it were in remote Thavnair. Nothing to channel with. No focus. Incredibly unsafe, incredibly ineffective, but good gods he couldn't even cry for help. With that monstrous mouth across his vision, all Martyn could think of was the rotting undead goobue wandering the ruins of Amdapor, its hunger so vast that its own stomach had opened a maw of its own. The Gourmand, they'd called it. 

Spectral teeth bared in the dim light of the tunnel and snapped down on Dollmaker's gluttonous neck. The monster jerked, body wriggling at the impact. "What is this? What–" It slapped the teeth away. The slow drawing in of aether continued, but it had broken Dollmaker's focus just long enough.

By force Martyn ordered his body to flinch away, his neck to turn inch by agonizing inch. He pulled in what precious aether Dollmaker hadn't already devoured, coiling it, sharpening it.

Don't touch me don't touch me you can't touch me

Protection to harm his enemies, to make any hand that touched him suffer. The sharp edges of a thousand sabotender needles exploded from Martyn's body. Dollmaker screeched, dropping Martyn's body from its arms as it clawed at the tiny spines embedded in its dark flesh. Another burst and spikes of ice slammed into its mask, leaving a crack along it. Glowing blue seeped through the crack and the eyeholes of the mask, shimmering in tune with the rising rage in its voice.

"Fiend, how dare–how–!"

Later, Martyn would realize the moment the rage turned to horror and regret in the voidsent's glowing gaze. Right now, he just wanted the vile thing to burn. 

Martyn shook himself, rolling up to curl on his side. His clumsy arms folded around himself, a protective gesture for the blue mage's last resort. When you couldn't win a fight, you made it a draw. Fire aether channeled between his palms. The dripping voidsent reached out for him again, its voice high and piteous.

"Wait–doll, please, Martyn–"

There was the reek of sulfur, the crack and roar of flame, and then nothing at all.

--------

Credited as the source of the “bomb” voidsent family's name, Self-destruct, when used by blue mages, converts the entirety of its caster's energy into fire-aspected aether to cause an explosion. The application of oil has been observed to make it more effective─though likely also more painful.

[winddragonart]

FFXIV Write 2024 #16: Third-Rate

Title: Madman Duelist

Lombard and his cabal were down, but K’ome watched the bodies as Arya tended to X’rhun Tia. once the Crimson Duelist was back on his feet, he walked to stand next to his apprentice, Arya joining them.

They stood, looking down at the body.

“I normally do not speak ill of the dead…”

“But…?” K’ome prompted.

“Lambard was a first rate madman, and a third rate duelist.”

[blueberryaesthetics]

FFXIV Write 2024 #6: Halcyon

They have no plans this morning. They often do, considering how busy she's made herself with work, but this morning is different because they said it would be. They wake late, and she manages actual pancakes that look more than half decent, but then they simply retreat to the sunlit sofa with a book.

They have no plans, and she has never felt better about such inaction.

It might be called a lazy sun. They feast on leftovers and whispers and kisses. Khu's fingers tangle into her hair, and she doesn't bother to twist it up. There's no pinning the greying strands into place. There's simply no need.

Adelle merely lets herself enjoy their time together, in the fading warmth of summer, in a home that is his as much as hers now, in his arms.

There have been peaceful times, to be sure.

She used to be able to name the suns of joy on one hand.

Now she needs two.

@ffxivtribehydrae (Khu!)

[hqmillioncorn]

Let me Show you my Pure Maiden's Heart!

“Wow…How could this happen?” B’ig Nunh shook his head, the supposed corpse of Hildibrand lay at his feet.  “He’s not dead!” Babycorn stomped her foot on the ground. “I could tell! Sin eaters smell a certain way when they die!” It was sort of a mix between a campfire and corn chips. Unfortunately it did smell a little delicious.  At that moment an echo vision began to ring in everyone’s ears. Everyone hunched over, holding their heads in pain. Babycorn tried so hard to keep her eyes open and her mind clear to make sure that Hildibrand didn’t go anywhere. But it was no use. Hey. …Why was it just static?

ffxiv write day 29: Soulmate with @windupnamazu 's lunya and butter and coco cocoda whos also @bobacupcake 's and @windupiceheart 's vertical and big nunh

somehow further hildibrand adventures! what unfortunate event could have befallen out beloved inspector?!

Tragedy had struck in Radz-at-Han! 

As if by divine happenstance, or in everyone else’s cause, an evil coincidence. It turned out that the portal that had once swallowed Inspector Hildibrand, Nashu and Gilgamesh up way back when had apparently dropped them off just an entire continent away. 

It was a fact that filled Babycorn with joy and Butter with dread. 

Pancake was also confused, surely the curse/spell she cast with Linnet should have lasted longer than this? Maybe they just needed more of Hildibrand’s hair? She knew she should have just taken the entire locket. Cherrypit had been practically pushing it into her hands. 

As soon as the gang ran into Nashu and she explained the whole situation, not even the scariest crate full of fish could stop Babycorn from following her all the way to where she had told them the Inspector was. 

True to Nashu’s word the Inspector was there, they had both escaped the scary portal they had fallen into relatively unscathed. For the most part. Nashu had also explained that Hildibrand had seemingly fallen into a deep slumber that he wasn’t waking up from.

“I’ve tried everything!” Nashu lamented, “Someone had told me to try using something called a cymbal but when I did-they broke into pieces! And they weren’t loud at all!” Unknown to everyone there Nashu had actually just grabbed two ornamental plates and banged them together thinking they were cymbals. They looked remarkably similar. 

Taking a break from her groveling Babycorn’s pom spiked up, she had an idea. “Have you tried breaking a plate?! That’s pretty loud!” Of course she spoke from experience. 

“Oh!” Nashu’s eyes widened, “Why didn’t I think of that?!” Babycorn was always so resourceful. 

At this point Lunya had to step in. She grabbed Babycorn and carried her to what basically was the other side of the room. “I swear to god we can’t let you near each other like this.” Something about Babycorn even being near Hildibrand and Nashu in a close vicinity made the stupidity of the room increase tenfold. 

And that was the last thing they needed right now. 

Ideas began to bounce around the room and that was enough of a distraction for Babycorn to sneak back across the room from the corner Lunya had placed her into. Literally everyone noticed her doing this but Lunya was too lazy to carry her back and Butter didn’t want to make Babycorn sad.

Babycorn stopped right next to Vertical and looked up at her. “Hey! Hey! Vertical! It’s me!” 

Vertical looked down and smiled. “hey babycorn we’re just about to explore hildibrand’s body do you want to help?” 

Babycorn made a face that looked like a surprised baby chick. 

In the matter of a split second, Lunya was right behind Babycorn, covering her very long ears with her hands. “Don’t say it like that in front of her!?” Not that Vertical was wrong but it was a dangerous game talking like that in front of Babycorn. “She’s going to start saying that around people and then what will people think…?”  

Vertical grinned, “hahahahaha.”

Butter was seconds from death, or from smothering Hildibrand with a pillow. Whichever came first. 

Somehow even after that Babycorn was allowed to climb onto the bed. She sat on her knees on the edge of the bed and looked at Hildibrand with her shimmering eyes. “He looks just like a sleeping prince…”

“Or a corpse.” Lunya chimed in. 

“If only…” Butter whispered under his breath. 

Babycorn poked at Hildibrand’s arm. There was no response. Babycorn thought about something familiar about this entire situation. “I think someone read a story to me just like this once….” It was either somewhere between a long time ago or just yesterday. “I remember now-! It was a story about a cursed princess that was stuck sleeping for a long time.!”

“Oh I love that one!” Nashu exclaimed, “My favorite part is the part where the princess falls asleep. A nap actually sounds really nice right about now…” 

“That’s the one!” Babycorn hopped off the bed and ran around the bed to be closer to Hildibrand. “Which means if this is like that-! Then we can wake up Hildibrand with a kiss from his true love~!” Of course Inspectors Hildibrand’s true love had to be no one but her!! “I’ll kiss him and wake him up from his eternal slumber!!”

A wave of dread washed over everyone. Especially Butter. 

It kind of looked like he had just died then and there. 

“Doesn’t my idea sound great?!” Babycorn stood up on the bed and looked at every one of her friends, expecting them to call her a genius and praise her on her ingenuity. And then they would all come to the wedding between her and Hildibrand where there would be lots of cake and-!

Lunya walked over and picked Babycorn up, carrying her back to her corner. “Alright that’s enough. We’ll figure something else out before you kill my son.” 

“But it was a good idea! Let me try at least once!?”

“Absolutely not!”

It was decided, they were all going to go to the First and get Hildibrand’s spirit back to his own body! Preferably in one piece! And if not in one piece, then they would just put him together when they got back.

Of course not everyone could go to the First. One of the ones to stay behind was Butter. He was very sad about it, more worried that Babycorn would find herself hungry for a snack and he couldn’t be there to give her one he had packed. 

Reluctantly, and while waving an embroidered handkerchief, Butter saw everyone off. 

Meanwhile back on the First, clues of where Hildibrand could be lead them to the middle of Lakeland. With help from familiar faces (specifically named Theyler and Vonard) they were all able to find the elusive Gentleman. In a form none were expecting to find him in.

“A SIN EATER?!” Babycorn wailed so loudly that even Lyna, who was back at the Crystarium, heard her. 

“Wow…” B’ig Nunh looked up at the tree above them, most everybody else was pretty much speechless. “Kind of majestic if you think about it.” 

“It’s really not.” Lunya tiredly sighed. 

Babycorn ran up towards Hildibrand, almost placing herself right under the branch he was standing on. “Hildiiiii! It’s me! Babycorn! I-I know I look different but you have to remember me!!” Tears were streaming from her eyes, “Even if you’re a sin eater I promise I won’t eat you like the other one! I promise! Even if your wings look really yummy from here!” 

“What did she just say?” Coco was getting scared. 

Hildibrand looked down at the group of people under him. He swore he could recognize some of them. Something in his mind was trying to remind him of that. It wasn’t until Hildibrand’s eyes fell upon the lalafell most familiar to him. 

“Ah-! If it isn’t Lunya Lanya! I’ve heard you and the ‘Crystal Exarch’ were married recently. I offer my congratulations!” He struck a most gentlemanly pose. “I’m glad you were able to find happiness and I trust your pursuit of me has come to an end?”  

All eyes were on Lunya–fearful of what she would do next.

Her eyes were closed and there was a smile on her face. “Ahahahaha…” She stepped back and in an instant pulled out a comically large hammer from basically nowhere. It was triple her size and adorned with jewels. “I’ll handle this.” 

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Babycorn sobbed. She was on the ground holding onto Lunya’s leg. 

“Verty?” Lunya looked up at Vertical with a smile still on her face. “Do you still have the present Nashu gave us?” She had been entrusted to hold onto it for some reason I don’t care to explain. “uh yeah.” Vertical pulled it out and showed it off. It was a bomb, thankfully still unlit. For now.

“Great!” Lunya beamed, “Throw it in the air and I’ll hit it towards him and then give him a few bonks to the head! That’ll fix him!” She paused. “Or kill him. We’ll just have to see!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Babycorn sobbed even louder.

Coco looked back and forth from everyone in a panic. There was a lot happening. “Are we just going to ignore what Babycorn said?!”

[biff-adventurer]

FFXIVWrite2024 Prompt: Reticent

It didn’t seem to bother Biff that the dark knight did not name himself. Ever mistrusted it. While she was not intimidated by him, finding it hard to be intimidated by a Lalafell shut up in black armor, she did not trust him. Miss Pudada, for her part, easily followed him in the darkness. Perhaps her encounters with Eyrisunn and H’zula had emboldened her, but Ever could not be sure. With a cool-headed healer and an adventurer eager to pierce through the mystery of the manor, she need not completely vilify the knight. Ever had her spells at the ready for any foes that would come their way. And any so-called friends that might turn their coat.

“It’s quiet,” said Pudada. “I expected the house to sigh a little more, I’ll admit. It’s so large, and…”

“I bet me whole family could fit in here,” said Biff, waving his arms. “Me own, me da’s sister’s, me da’s aulder brother’s. That’s, like, fifteen grown children with families of their own!”

“A veritable dynasty!” Pudada laughed. “I’m not sure it could fit quite that many people, but it could certainly house half of them.”

“Not that anyone would want to live here,” spat Ever. “Anyone who tries will end up choking on cobwebs before they meet any of the beasts that have made this place their home.”

“It’s curious we haven’t seen any,” agreed Pudada.

“Oh, they’ll come out!” Biff did a cartwheel down the hall. “They always do! They could be stalking us right now and we wouldn’t know it!”

The conjurer gasped. “You don’t think we’re being stalked by a void-sent, do you?”

The dark knight, who had been walking at the head of the party, only glanced over his shoulder at this. He’d not spoken a word since they’d entered, and barely mustered a syllable when their party had come together. Was he not afraid, or was he being a plain, old jerk?

“We’d be dead by now,” said the knight.

“Here, here!” cried Biff, performing yet another cartwheel. “Cheers tae not bein’ dead!”

Ever grumbled to herself. What was it her mother always said? Ah, yes. “If you have nothing nice to say, you shouldn’t say it at all.”

[veliara]

FFXIVWrite20224 Day: Reticent

The night looked down from the sky at the short youth who sat on the city wall, dangling his feet. Ishgard's icy wind ruffled his blond hair and was threatening to freeze off the reddened tips of his short, pointed ears. He silently looked up at the stars, as they glittered reassuringly from the sky. Tiredness that had taken root in the soul of the young half-breed could be clearly read in his huge green eyes. Tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't.  Above all else, he wanted now to take that ancient artifact off his ear and cry. Cry nasty tears, loud and ugly. So loud that the whole town would startle at the sound of that scream. A woman's scream. 

He was sadly thinking about the fact that in his own thoughts he had already forgotten who he really was. When was the last time a girl Ciel put on her favorite dress and heels and proudly walked down the street, giggling sweetly or just simply having fun? The real Ciel never existed in Ishgard. There was only the well-designed image of a boy walking the streets, created by the mother to keep her daughter safe.

Sometimes he rubbed his bruises from training with the knights, and a barely audible commented that he wasn't a fighter and didn't need such training. It was tough for him to play the boy all the time, in a purely male group. Tough and just a little bit terrifying. The past couple of days had been especially hard on his soul. He longed for someone who could share the burden with him. Someone he could trust.

The boy who everyone thought was quite reticent continued to gaze at the stars and only the night knew how much he wanted to talk to someone.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #1: Steer

-----------

"How the fuck do you steer this thing?" Reinhardt asked, looming over the skyslipper's passenger side. Then he grunted as a hand seized his collar and pulled him back.

"Absolutely the fuck not." Augustine commanded. "I'm driving." Climbing past Zurvan's Dominant, the paladin dropped his bag next to the skyslipper's driver seat.

"Since when the hells do you get to drive?!" Reinhardt demanded.

"Since I don't trust you, don't trust my brother, and I especially do not trust Sebastian." Augustine bent over to adjust the pedals for his height.

"Halone take the wheel." Sebastian cracked, placing his own satchel into the skyslipper's carryon. That done, he dropped into the first passenger seat.

Would rather not. Came the snarky reply.

"How long is it going to take to get to..wherever the hells we're going?" Mathye asked, climbing on board.

"Whenever Ryne says 'stop' apparently." Augustine replied, settling down in the driver's seat. He started to flick the slipper's control switches as Reinhardt tossed his bag into the carryon hammock.

"Where's Riven?"

"First slipper. And I tried to get her out of it, but she said no." At least Riven was with Thancred, which mollified Augustine somewhat. The scheming of the Exarch and Urianger was still raw amongst the tight-knit group--despite explanations and apologies. As a tactician, Augustine could understand why the pair had done it--even more so when the Exarch had revealed all other ways had failed. But as a Dominant, as Riven's friend, as one of her brothers...

Augustine. Halone murmured. The paladin started. Inhaling, he forced himself to let go of the wheel--he'd been gripping it to the point where he was starting to crush the metal.

"Sorry." He whispered.

It's alright. Halone let a gentle touch of frost brush over her First Dominant's fingers. It...will take time for things to settle. Time for wounds to heal, time for trust--if it could be recovered--to regrow. The Scions could not afford division amongst themselves, nor could the Dominants afford quarrels with their keepers turned friends/allies. The goddess of Ice and War hoped that the...expedition into the Empty would begin the healing process.

"I am not sitting next to this dumbass." Mathye declared, breaking into Halone's musings. "Sebastian, switch with me."

"No."

"What's wrong with sitting next to me?!" Reinhardt demanded. Augustine rolled his eyes, slipping the key into the skyslipper's ignition.

"Mat." He called out warningly as the machina coughed and rattled to life with a loud roar. "All of you. Behave!"

"I have an idea for a game."

"I will fucking kill you." Augustine sighed again, turning around so he could start backing up.

"Why did I even volunteer to do this?" He asked the air.

Reinhardt is not to be trusted with anything mobile, my Dominant would probably drive all of us into a ditch whenever his patience snapped, and do you honestly want your brother behind the wheel? Odin countered.

"We crashed one time!" Reinhardt protested.

Once was enough. Zurvan rumbled.

"I should have gone with Zoissette and the others." Augustine sighed.

[lady-protector]

6. halcyon

Estinien sat on the edge of a bluff overlooking the ruins of a town, blackened timber poking out of snowdrifts, perfectly desolate and serene. He had been back here before, but not for years, and never with company.

The small, dark-haired xaela next to him pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them, arms loosely wrapped around her legs as she looked down. “This is it, then? Ferndale?”

“Aye. Or what’s left of it, at least.”

The ruin bore no resemblance to the home of his childhood, devoid of the rolling green hills where he’d wandered with his family’s flock, the ponds frozen solid, no scent of braised mutton on the wind. What Nidhogg had not taken, the Calamity had, and left naught but his own fading memories behind.

Without preamble, he raised a hand, pointing out landmarks. “There, and farther to the east, were the grazing fields. ‘Twas not so damnably cold then, but grass was still sparse, so we had to range far, even with the small handful of karakul we had. My father took me with him until I had seen seven summers, and after that, it was my duty alone. There is the river where we fished on warm summer days, and the pond in which I learned to swim. The market where my mother sold the clothes she made from the wool we sheared in the springtime, and the spare milk from our goats. The church, where we gathered on Iceday mornings, to hear the teachings of the Fury and learn our letters.” He let his hand fall, sighing. “I was far afield the day Nidhogg came, and did not arrive until he had gone.”

Weight settled against his arm as Marz leaned into him, a comforting reminder that he was not alone. He knew he need not explain what came after, not to her, who had seen his past through his own eyes. Who had lived through her own version of that hell, though her tormentors were garlean, not dravanian.

“What were your parents like?” she asked, her voice uncommonly quiet and gentle.

Estinien felt his mouth twitch into what might have been a small smile. “My mother was kind. She was a weaver, and a seamstress, and a damned good cook. She helped us make ends meet by doing whatever needed doing in the village – mending clothes, washing them, birthing lambs… I believed she could do anything, when I was young. And my father was… Gruff. Distant. Not given to idle chit chat.”

A snort shook through her whole body. “Sounds familiar.”

He grunted noncommitally in response, and she snickered at him so neatly proving her point.

They both lapsed into silence for a while, looking out over the landscape, until Marz spoke again. “What about your brother?”

Estinien’s jaw clenched and he breathed out slowly through his nose, riding the wave of grief that the mere mention caused, until he had steadied enough to speak again. For so much of his life, he had refused to speak of him at all – but this entire trip was meant to make it so someone else would know that his family had lived, so that when he died in battle, they would live on. He would not deny his brother that.

“Hamignant was… nothing like me. Quiet. Kind. Well-mannered. He misliked violence, even when it was necessary. He named every lamb, no matter if it was destined for the market, or the flock, or the cookpot. Read every book he could get his hands on. My mother wanted to send him to Ishgard someday, to the Scholasticate. He told me he wanted to join the priesthood, so he could come back to Ferndale and teach other children, more than one day a sennight.” Once he started, the words came tumbling out in an awkward rush, heedless of if he meant to speak them or not. Only narrowly did he bite back the words that would have followed – that it would have been better if Estinien himself had perished in Nidhogg’s flames, if it meant his little brother might have lived in his stead.

Such black thoughts spoken aloud would only serve to sour both their moods. Not that it was particularly good to begin with, but…

“Did you know that one time, my brother convinced me that one of our clan elders was a wavekin? He was so old, thin and bony and covered in scales, so that barely any skin could be seen. I believed him for two whole years. My mama was so angry when she found out, but my papa thought it was hysterical. He was always playing pranks on me, always acting as if I was so annoying, but he’d stop and help me with anything I asked. Taught me to dance, and how to braid my hair, so he wouldn’t have to anymore.” Bright green eyes blinked up at him, and her fingers laced through his. “I know what it’s like to have a good big brother. And I’m sure you were one.”

A reluctant smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. “One time, Hami wanted to pick flowers for our mother. I thought myself too old for such things, so I spent the day lazing about, not minding what he was doing. That night, there was mysteriously a frog in my parents’ bed – they thought I did it. I ended up taking the blame for him, and he felt so bad that he snuck me extra sweets for days after.” Estinien sighed, but the weight in his chest – everpresent, even after so many years – felt a little easier to bear. “I have not thought of that in ages. I could not respond to the happy memories with anger, and I had no wish to fall to grief, so I simply… did not think of them. I have done my family a disservice in this, I think.”

Marz shook her head. “No one can judge you for what you have done to survive. And living is always harder than the alternative, isn’t it?”

“Aye. It is. But it is worth it, I think.”

He had not always. Had long counted his life as simply a delayed death, determined to take as many enemies with him as he could before he finally succumbed to the fate that should have awaited him that day in Ferndale. That man had died on the Steps of Faith – and given a second chance at life, he had taken it, even though he knew not what to do with it. Still did not, at times.

All he had known was that he wanted it, and Marzanna had been, alongside Alphinaud, the one to give it to him. It seemed only right he share it with her, past and present alike.

[crossroadsdimension]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 11

Prompt - Surrogate

(FFXIVWrite 2024 Masterpost)

Cross wasn’t sure why her feet took her up the ridge past the Amalj’aa encampment. Her mind hadn’t been entirely focused since she’d run from Vesper Bay all the way to Camp Drybone, even after two days of staying curled up in one of the church’s beds like a sickly invalid.

Being forced out of bed that morning with the suggestion she take a walk had, somehow, driven her to make the trek to a ridge above the encampment.

Her mind fully focused as she stared at the familiar, sun-marked eye carved into the surface of a stone.

The young miqo’te’s legs gave out underneath her, and she collapsed with a wail that echoed off the stones and likely all the way to the Burning Wall.

“I’m — I’m no good at this!” Cross wailed. Her ears pulled back against her head at the sound of her own voice. “An adventurer? Me? Working with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn? Azeyma should burn me for not being able to bring justice to those who desecrated the Waking Sands with our blood!”

The wind didn’t stir. The sun didn’t drop in the sky to reach her, nor did a fireball descend from the heavens.

But it didn’t stop Cross from letting her tears fly.

“Dad, why didn’t you come home?” Cross wept. “The Scions deserved an experienced adventurer — they deserved an actual Warrior of Light, not — not his horrible substitute of a daughter. You would’ve been able to get back to the Waking Sands in time to save all of them. You could’ve saved Noraxia, and — and Minfilia — and —”

Words failed her as another choked noise forced its way out of her lungs and up her throat. The blood-stained stones of the Waking Sands flashed through her mind again, accompanied by a barely-remembered explosion of fire and flares from the moon as it had opened, before her mind was turned into a flash of white that left her feeling confused and alone.

And without a father to remember.

“I’m just a faulty substitute,” Cross sniffled towards the earth. “I can’t — if I can’t defeat a primal and get back in time, then what kind of adventurer am I?”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and wept, tears dropping onto the dusty earth as the sun beamed down on her from its lofty perch, neither searing her, nor offering comfort. Neither did she see anything from the symbol of Azeyma that could offer her the same.

Further down the path, at the Amalj’aa encampment that Cross had walked past, the pair of guards standing at the entrance stared up the ridge at the weeping slayer of Ifrit and exchanged startled looks.

“It takes much to bring a slayer of gods low,” one of them said. “Should we bring her lower while we still can?”

The other shook his head. “No. To fight a warrior who begs for death is not a fight of honor. Godslayer she may be, Ifrit would find no honor in this. The hyur from Ul’dah who march in immortal flame rise to meet Ifrit with heads held high and do not fear death — I would see this one do the same with us.”

The first guard frowned, in a way that only Amalj’aa could, but he remained at his post, and listened as the miqo’te’s wailing cries turned into sniffles, then fell silent.

[eorzeaisnotcrash]

Day 1: Steer

Next time she’s just playing DDR.

“Player 2 wins!” the machine announces with a flourish of light and music.

Zenos turns his head to the left, the better to see his friend’s reddened cheeks. Her character, were it a real person and not an assortment of zeroes and ones, would be equally ashamed, for its vehicle has been directed right into a rocky wall.

“This is your fifth loss. Did you not say you were fond of games such as this?”

Joceline snorts. “I said I liked games in general. I usually stick to rhythm games and beat ‘em ups and that godsdamned crane. This one’s just too hard for me.”

Now Zenos looks to the right, where an identical machine stands. An Elezen child of ten or eleven summers is racing against the computer, turning his plastic wheel with aplomb.

“If you truly find this game difficult,” he says, looking left again, “perhaps you ought to… become better.”

She takes a sip of her pearl ginger beer. “The saying is ‘get good,’ Zenos…”

[aerialsquid]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 16: Third-rate

"You're even going to Populares meetings now or something?"

"They make some good points. Representative leadership is important for pureblood Garleans too, and there's nothing treasonous about discussing ideas openly and fairly."

"You sound like one of their pamphlets."

Akitsu had spent a lot of time watching Victor, for reasons that were none of anyone's business. He could now see the slight changes in body language that said Victor was trying to politely rush someone out the door, the way his fingers tensed as he picked up a stylus and clasped it tight to his palm to calm himself. 

Akitsu also pretended to be cleaning the examination tables, falling into that quiet 'part of the furniture' routine that meant Garleans forgot you were in the room.

"Little puppy finally knots a woman and suddenly you're a whole different person? I'm only here for two days, don't leave me suffering alone here."

The other man, a full foot and a half taller than Victor with his sandy hair brushed and oiled back from his forehead to emphasize his third eye, leaned over Victor, their hands just barely touching.

"I'm a father now, Marcus. I have to be more responsible." Victor kept finding reasons not to look Marcus in the face as he rearranged his medical files. "I don't fool around like that anymore."

"Even papas get to have fun, you know. Come on, puppy. I know you still like your men dangerous." Marcus leaned in closer, whispering just loud enough that Akitsu could still hear. "I could put on a pair of horns for you, if that's what you like now."

Akitsu saw the flash of Victor's bared teeth reflected in the curve of a bedpan, the reflexive way Victor glanced at the back of Akitsu's head. Marcus may have forgotten Akitsu was here, but Victor clearly hadn't. "Can we not have this conversation here?" he offered, the steel in his voice changing to a wheedling plea.

Marcus grinned like a tiger. "Sure, sure. Let's go off somewhere alone and chat about it. I saw a broom closet down the hallway…"

Akitsu looked up to the big wire rack of supplies and sanitizing fluid. His lips pressed together, firm, before his fingers latched into the gaps in the rack and in a single smooth movement pulled the entire shelf down on his own head.

"Fuck!" The sound of crashing metal sent Marcus flinching so hard he nearly knocked Victor's desk over. 

Victor dropped his stylus and rushed to Akitsu's side, wide-eyed, already checking him over for injuries. "Oh shit, Ryuo–"

"Oops," said Akitsu flatly, from among the pile of wet metal.

"Sorry, I need to clean this up." Victor stacked the bedpans emphatically, muttering about how that shelf had been unsafe for weeks and he'd been telling them to replace it.

Marcus scowled. If he suspected anything, he didn't have the courage to let it spill from his lips, but his expression was dour as he left. "Yeah, yeah. We'll talk later."

Victor let out a soft breath as the door slammed behind Marcus. Akitsu did the same, but only when Victor wasn't looking.

"Sorry. Former colleague of mine from when I was stationed in Werlyt. I guess his unit was passing through. I'm sorry you had to - that wasn't really your. Uh."

"Not my business," Akitsu grunted. He went for the mop while Victor stacked up trays and pushed the shelf back into position.

"I don't do that sort of thing anymore, anyway. I can't now."

"Of course." 

"Not that - I don't mean with men. There's nothing wrong with that, you know. But not men who are…" Victor looked on the verge of swallowing his own tongue, which was probably the only thing that would stop him from babbling.

I know you like your men dangerous. 

Victor sat back on his knees, hands folded before him. "It would have to be someone I could trust. I can't take risks anymore, not with Tina around. I haven't since she was born."

"And there's no one here you trust?"

Victor's eyes went up to him, round and soft. Something about them seized Akitsu's heart and squeezed it tight like a fist around an egg, sending aching cracks shooting through it. Then Victor looked away and the sensation faded. 

"Well, you know how it is," Victor said. He did not elaborate on the statement. Akitsu felt he did not, in fact, know how it was, but continued mopping up the mess regardless.

Lying in his bunk later that night, still smelling faintly of rubbing alcohol, Akitsu still did not know how it was. If anything, he felt that he knew even less about how it was than he did earlier that morning. 

[constellariums]

FFXIVWrite Day #1: Steer & Wolchefant Week Day #1: Holiday

Rating: T

Pairing: Warrior of Light/Haurchefant Greystone

Description: Starlight is nearly upon Coerthas, and Haurchefant learns that this is the Warrior of Light's first time celebrating the holiday and endeavors to whisk her away for a celebration.

Extra Info: This is the same wolchefant as the one in A Shelter from the Storm although it isn't strictly canon for that story!

Two prompts in one!

Read on AO3 here!

It was perhaps later than he'd hoped to be leaving the city, but when Haurchefant Greystone finally escaped a series of lengthy last-minute meetings at the Congregation, shed his armor at the manor and found his way behind the reins of the chocobo carriage he'd prepared for the occasion, he still breathed a sigh of relief. The sky was beautiful this day, clear and painted in dusky tones of indigo and orange; and the crisp, clean mountaintop air of Ishgard filled Haurchefant's grateful lungs as his feathered companions carried him across the Steps of Faith, towards where the Warrior of Light awaited him outside Camp Dragonhead.

Oh, the Warrior of Light, his dearest friend, and... well. In truth she was much more than that, though neither of them had yet admitted it in public, for propriety's sake. Yet ever since her arrival in Ishgard, their meetings had predictably but regrettably become more infrequent -- far from the weeks spent inseparable when he'd had the Scions sheltered in his camp. But that made this occasion all the more exciting; a chance to see her, to be alone with her, for a full weekend at that!

Thank the gods for Starlight. A wondrous season, where even in these perilous times amidst a thousand years of war, those in positions of high command and those with family were granted a measure of leave to spend time with their loved ones. Haurchefant himself only took this leave infrequently, often taking the opportunity to entertain those of his men who didn't have the fortune of a loving hearth to go home to, but, this year...

He sighed longingly, resting his chin on his hands as he rode across the flagstone steps. Oh, this Starlight he had the most wondrous surprise planned for her, and he could not wait to see the look on her face -- to make memories with her, even start new traditions with her perhaps, though that might be getting ahead of himself... but he couldn't help it. He was always getting ahead of himself when it came to her. It was impossible not to. Either way, he dearly hoped she'd like what he had planned.

After all, a few weeks ago...

---

"Oh!" The Warrior gasped, still clad in her morning lounge robes. She stood in the entry hall gawking as a group of stewards brought in boughs of fresh pine, handing them to other workers who began to hang them along the walls. The usual floral bouquets that adorned the room had been replaced with crimson poinsettias and young saplings of pine and cedar, decorated in baubles of red, green and gold. "Is it that time of year already?"

Haurchefant had already taken an early meal and was getting ready to depart; but upon seeing her in the hall he strode over to her side, joining her in watching the house stewards decorate the place. He had to admit it did make the manor feel cozier, more welcoming. "Mmm, it surely is. Do you like Starlight, my friend?"

"I do... well, I like what I have heard of it," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "In truth I don't believe I've ever partaken in a Starlight celebration, though I understand it has something to do with giving gifts to children in need, yes?"

Haurchefant gaped at her, utterly shocked. "You haven't celebrated Starlight before?"

She flushed a little, looking a bit embarrassed -- he nearly brought a reassuring hand to caress her arm, before remembering where they were. Right. She seemed to notice the halted gesture and looked reassured nevertheless.

"Ah, no... it wasn't observed, where I come from. These decorations are quite lovely, though, and they smell wonderful."

"I see..." he answered, suddenly in deep thought, placing a hand to his pursed lips. "Well, then we shall have to rectify that," he declared, looking up sharply and meeting her with a wide smile. "I swear to you, my friend, this season you will be shown all the delights and joys that a true Ishgardian Starlight -- we began the tradition, in fact -- has to offer."

"Oh, Haurchefant, you needn't trouble yourself--" she'd begun, but he'd waved off her polite objection.

"No, no; it will require little effort on my part, I assure you. House Fortemps has its own wonderful Starlight tradition, and I am certain that your presence will be sought after for it. But..." he looked around the room to make certain everyone was occupied, then back into her curious eyes, adding in a low whisper, "I may call upon you before then, for our own little celebration?"

She flashed him a sly grin, as quick and secretive as it was thrilling. "I might be persuaded," she allowed, reaching over to rub a mark out of his pauldron with her thumb. A casual excuse to get closer to him for a moment, perhaps?

"Splendid," he'd returned with a grin of his own, before politely taking his leave, wishful thoughts of festive celebration filling his head.

---

The Warrior of Light's first Starlight..! In the days and weeks since he'd learned of this, he'd been planning a surprise getaway, on the more romantic side of Ishgard's Starlight traditions. Charitable works were of course the heart of the holiday, and something he greatly looked forward to every year, but he had always wanted to spend a romantic Starlight night with someone he loved. And now he had not one, but two nights ahead of him to do just that.

His chocobos' feet touched down onto the snow-covered paths leading to Camp Dragonhead, the festive bells at their necks softly jingling with their steps, and he couldn't help but feel utterly giddy.

About three-quarters of the way down the path to their meeting place -- a little alcove in the outer walls of Camp Dragonhead -- Haurchefant passed another carriage apparently leaving the camp, some of House Fortemps' knights -- his men -- riding in the back along with the cargo, for protection.

Ah, ingredients for the Starlight feast, he thought excitedly as he recognized the look of the crates, though as he took the reins and steered to the side of the road to let them pass, he locked eyes with one of his knights in recognition -- ah, Ser Yaelle, he realized. It made sense; his second-in-command was always heavily involved in his house's efforts this time of year, volunteering for all kinds of Starlight tasks. Yet the expression on her face, looking him up and down in his alpine coat and meeting him with a grin -- what, what was that about? Surely she didn't know where he was off to --

A deafening thump sounded from below, and suddenly Haurchefant found himself jolted by gravity and flung from his seat, warks of alarm coming from both his chocobos. When he came to, he was face-first in the fresh snow, his carriage askew and his chocobos stamping their taloned feet in distress.

"Lord Haurchefant!" came the distant, worried cry of his second, along with the sound of several pairs of armored boots crunching on snow. "Your carriage -- you were unarmored -- are you alright?"

Haurchefant lifted his dazed face from the snowbank, and let the Elezen woman help him up to his feet -- he... seemed to be intact, although the impact had scattered his mind a bit and left him somewhat unsteady on his feet, adrenaline still rushing through him.

"I... I think so," he said, meeting her concerned face with a placating smile as she sat him down on a boulder, which was... much like the one he now saw that his fine carriage had apparently run into, hidden underneath what had seemed to be an ordinary snowpack. His heart sank. Even if all was well, this repair would take hours, and... and his plans with his dear Warrior...

"...Someone send for a tradesperson, and a fresh chocobo," Yaelle instructed to her knights, and a pair of them nodded firmly and ran off in the direction of Camp Dragonhead. "You have Starlight plans, yes? I have it covered, milord," she whispered to him, and he drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. "Are you certain you are alright? I daresay you flew."

How... how did she know? He hadn't voiced any of his plans to anyone, only announced his upcoming absence to his men -- but the knowing twinkle in her eye spoke volumes.

Well. He supposed she was certainly clever enough to figure it out, and he was more than grateful to have her eager help. He nodded gratefully, patting his body to make sure everything was indeed intact and in good working order. "I believe I am unharmed -- and if not I shall see a healer posthaste," he assured Yaelle, and the fact that he said healer and not chirurgeon seemed to make her eyes light up in knowing glee.

"That is most reassuring, milord. I am sure she -- that is to say, a healer -- could put you right in no time." She smiled at him, looking every bit a proper knight who had said nothing she shouldn't have, then turned to speak with her men, who were unyoking his birds and making them comfortable.

Oh, Halone, what a turn things had taken, he thought with flushed cheeks -- but Haurchefant yet held on to hope. It was Starlight season, a time for miracles; and it seemed the stars had already granted him an ally.

The Warrior of Light rubbed her gloved hands together to keep them warm as she waited for Haurchefant to arrive. It was a beautiful evening, but it was edging into night and she'd been told he'd rendezvous with her shortly before Camp Dragonhead's evening meal bell. Said bell had rung out quite some time ago, and she was beginning to feel a bit hungry and rather concerned. Had his business with the Congregation kept him longer than he'd expected? It certainly wouldn't have been the first time, though every time he wound up late to one of their meetings he'd always pull her aside and rather sincerely offer recompense in many kisses that left her giddy and flushed.

She could use some warming up right about now, she thought, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her winter coat. She hoped it was just a simple delay; he knew he was sorely looking forward to his time off with her, and what with how tirelessly he served his people every day he certainly deserved a well-earned break.

When she saw a pair of knights running breathlessly towards the gates, she started in alarm and thought to make her way to them -- but, no, she would be too far away to meet them before they reached the gates. Moments later what looked to be a carpenter nearly flew out of the same gate on a chocobo, and, now rather anxious, she fiddled with the sword in its scabbard at her hip. Just when she'd resolved to see if the Camp had any spare chocobos and go to investigate, she caught sight of someone cresting the hill -- it was Haurchefant, she realized, his pale hair catching the last golden rays of dusk as he bobbed on chocoboback.

"Haurchefant!" she cried out as he reached her, his yellow steed coming to a stop only fulms away.

He said her name with a tone of considerable relief, dropping down off his mount and spreading his arms wide to invite her into an embrace. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, sighing at the welcome warmth as he squeezed her tightly in greeting.

"Is everything alright? It's awfully late, and I saw a bit of commotion, and..."

Haurchefant sighed, nodding knowingly. "There was a bit of a mishap... I had a romantic carriage ride planned and everything, you should have seen my finely dressed chocobos," he laughed, though she could tell he did seem genuinely disappointed. "All is still well, though, 'twas only a minor accident and I was sent on my way. May I have the pleasure of having you ride tandem astride my -- less festive, but still rather fine -- mount?"

"Oh, Haurchefant," she sighed, reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his face -- he looked as if he felt rather a mess, although he did look terribly handsome in the fine coat he wore... this was the first time she'd seen him in proper nobleman's attire. Had he gone to all this effort just for her? "You were in an accident? Are you well? You don't have to push yourself on my account."

"I am whole and hale, I assure you -- aside from having to dig some snow out of my ears," he chuckled, and the smile he gave her put her at ease. He took her hand in his and planted a kiss to her knuckles, and she felt herself flush. "Come, my lady, your chariot awaits."

She rolled her eyes playfully at him, and he grinned and helped her up onto the saddle with him -- the bird was just large enough to hold both of them without undue effort, thankfully -- and with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Haurchefant took the reins and they sped off together into the starlit Coerthan night.