#FFxivWrite2023 Results

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

7,935 total entries were submitted in 2023!

This includes all entries that were submitted via the Google Form, including late entries (and excluding duplicate entries).

Which brings us to 50,656 total recorded entries since we began this challenge in 2017! 

And, we had 109 volunteer artists in 2023!! Which means that there are 109 prize-winners!

A breakdown of the stats + announcement of the Participation Prize winners are below the cut ~

Want to see all public entries? Here’s a link to the Master Spreadsheet. This omits entries that people requested to keep private between them and I.

There's a lot to be gleaned from the data this year. Firstly, this is the first year where we see a real dip in participation, numbers dropping to the pre-2020 range. There are a couple of probable causes for this dip: this year, I chose, a) not to promote the challenge in any discords, b) not to repost any prompts to twitter, and c) not to post reminders throughout the challenge for folks to submit their links.

I was curious to know how much my own direct participation effects the challenge these days, and the numbers seem to point to "quite a bit!" So, that's good to know.

Secondly, we have finally approached the "data visualization salad" limit in which there are enough data points to confuse the visualization of the data overall, rendering them a little tough to understand at first glance. So, next year will probably see some fine-tuning of the data so that it's easier to digest.

Now, onto the good stuff!

Total Participation Year to Year:

Prompt Participation by Year:

NOTE: The big dips are Make-up / Extra Credit Days. Lots of folks choose to take a break over writing Extra Credit. Legit!

Prompt Breakdown by Week:

Submissions by Day:

NOTE: Day 7 was the day before the 24-hour deadline went into effect. Hence, the big ol’ spike.

Submissions by Platform:

Participation Prize Winners

Winners were selected via a random raffle dice roll made by Moen and span all online writing platforms, including Tumblr, Ao3, Google Docs, and others (like Twitter). This writing challenge is not a contest - no one’s work was being judged for length, skill, etc. The prizes are based on participation only! The more entries that you wrote and submitted within its 24-hour deadline, the higher your chance of winning a prize.

Prizes are a simple black & white portrait of the winner’s character. Most are shoulder up but the artists are free to take liberties if they’d like. Prizes are not commissioned work, so ultimately it’s the artist’s choice for what they’d like to do for the piece. Some artists (not all) accept commissions and might be open to colorizing a prize piece, after it’s been posted, at their normal rates.

Due to recent changes in Discord's username format, this year (and this year only) all winners will be notified by yours truly (MoenMoen) via a friend request and message in Discord. Next year I'll be teaming up with some folks to find a better, more streamlined process for informing and connecting winners with their volunteer artist.

So, keep an eye out for me in your Discord friend requests/inbox over the next week or so (it will take me a minute to get to everyone):

As always, there are a few winners whose artists may need to drop out for personal reasons, and that’s ok! In those cases, the winners will be carried over into 2024′s pool of winners where another artist will pick up their prize and complete it.

Congrats to all 109 winners, and I'll see you in September 2024 when we do it all again!

[neoma-eltanin]

Prompt #11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

For FFXIVWrite2023 Character: Erjon Sjadarwesfv Warnings: None

Love.

He knew what that word meant. An intense feeling or deep affection, for something or someone. He had experienced it himself. That binding, gripping, tearing and overwhelming sensation of your heart swelling and aching and oh it was a most wonderful and terrible thing. A pleasure, a pain that shifted between being the only thing he wished to ever feel and the thing that tortured him more than any other.

For a moment he felt like he was in heaven, even as his feet stood firmly in the ashes of a hellscape. The smell of death so distant it might as well be the scent of a meadow. Sapphires so brilliant, so perfect he might cry for how blessed he was that they even offered to meet his pallid gaze. Warm locks of red, soft like the feathers of a swan for his weary hands to feel. So soft that he forgot the cold, hard metal that ever grazed his fingertips.

In this nightmare he would endure. He had hope. He had love. He wanted to protect it, hold it close and never let go.

And suddenly, everything was gone.

He screamed. He wailed. He begged. The meadow, the sapphires, the feathers. Come back. Come back.

His hands reached for nothing. His voice received no answer.

Never again. Never again would he dare hold on to what so easily was ripped away from his heart, what so easily crumbled into dust in the wind. He would seal it inside a shell, hard and unyielding and out of reach.

Love.

He knew what that word meant, once. He knew what it meant to lose it. The feeling of it withering in your arms and the warmth leaving your soul in the bitter, cold dark.

He lost it. And it never returned.

He would make sure of it.

[nalukahvi]

FFxivWrite2023 Participation Prize - Esredes

Another year of folks giving writing their all, and another year I have the joy of drawing something for one of the winning entries! This year my winner is @crimsonfluidessence with their character, Esredes! Their writing really got to me and 100% inspired the finished result for the art.

Huge thank you as always to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organizing FFXIVWrite! And a big thank you to @crimsonfluidessence for the great food (the writing)!

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 8: Shed

The GALL of this man, Amon thought to himself as he stared at his red-masked visitor. What does he MEAN, “my methods leave something to be desired”?

Yet even as he boggled at the man’s presumption— “I have come to claim you”, honestly—he could not help but feel morbidly curious. ‘Twas a bold soul indeed who would question his methodology to his face. He could not remember the last time anyone in the imperial court had done so. 

Which, he supposed, did mean the stranger was paying attention, and not just having a lark. And he had been unable to deny Amon’s results, which had to count for something.

“...As fortune would have it,” the man continued, in a tone Amon immediately recognized as dripping with guile, “the seat of Fandaniel—your rightful seat—lies vacant and waiting. Take your place amongst your peers, rather than die a pointless death amidst the ashes of your doomed nation.”

Amon remained uncharacteristically silent as he considered the words, unmoving on his seat, fingers steepled in front of his masked face. Such claims were extraordinary, and to any other individual, they would stretch the limits of credulity to the breaking point. A whole civilization that not only existed aeons before Allag, but had surpassed it in every respect? The star itself shattered into fourteen pieces that must needs be reunited? Amon himself, living a previous life, as a previous man—but a more whole, complete version of him? Surely this was all too much to be seriously entertained.

But still, he was given pause. 

The way the stranger had apparated into the room in a dark swirl of magic was certainly a mark in his favor. These “Ascians”, as he had identified himself, must be people of respectable power.

But for another thing, Amon could not disagree with his forecast of Allag’s demise. He had recognized the decay that was setting into the empire. It was, in fact, that very thing which had prompted him to do the unthinkable: to resurrect Xande, their greatest emperor, that he might steer them to better things.

It chafed him that the people spoke of it with the same irreverence as an unusually impressive parlor trick.

It destroyed him that Xande’s own post-death perspective confirmed his very worst fears.

This was all for nothing. 

It seemed not just that the Emperor could lose the war, but perhaps, he did not wish to win it.

Yet it took more than that to earn Amon’s attention. Anyone with half their wits—which excluded most of his countrymen, he assumed—could see the writing on the wall. Allag would not be the first great people to crumble, and presumably, neither would they be the last. Such pointless cycles littered history and required no soothsayer to predict.

Amon may well have laughed the stranger out of his laboratory, were it not for the dreams.

Those dreams were hazy, fragmented things, but they had haunted him as long as he could remember. They featured… a garden? No, a testing ground. Somehow both. It was beautiful. It was vapid. It was peaceful. It was a nightmare. It plucked at the mystery of creation itself, and yet there were no answers in it. He was himself, and yet he was not. He was surrounded by masked faces he did not recognize, whom he somehow knew. And there was a sense of something in the stars above—something grave, something hopeful, something existentially important. But he knew not what. None of it made sense to him. Every dream saw him disoriented and confused, a question in his mind he could not shake, reverberating louder and louder within him as the dream went on: “Why…? Why? Why? WHY??” until he woke up with a desire to scream.

But of course, it was just a vexing dream.

Unless it wasn’t.

The mask the Ascian wore was not like the masks he saw there. …But neither, he supposed, was it so very different. If there was any truth to his words…

A satisfied smile curled upon the visitor’s lips as he sensed Amon’s reluctant intrigue.

—

Within a fortnight, Allag’s foremost technologist disappeared from the empire—though no one really noticed, as his clone took his place. He found himself in a dark, formless space between worlds, adrift on an isle which floated in the nothingness. He had no inkling such a place existed before today, and it set his mind spinning to consider the ramifications. He no longer doubted the Ascian, at least not about this part. 

Shadowy robed figures surrounded him. Most of them were formerly men like himself, he was told. People who had realized that their feeble existence was but a pale, warped imitation of what could be. Of what should be. Above them towered a deific statue, imposing, haloed, and wrought from dark metal. He knew precious little about this “Zodiark”. He had been assured all would become clear in due course.

Amon looked down at the carved red stone in his hands. It was etched with a celestial design. Fandaniel. He turned the word over in his mind, trying to get used to it. As unfamiliar as the language was, he clung to what Emet-Selch had taught him it meant: pursuer of extant phenomena. He could live with that. Or die with that, whichever this counted as doing.

“Now,” Emet-Selch told him, jarring him out of his thoughts. “Focus on that stone. This process will suffer no distractions.”

“Your wish is my command,” Amon replied with a flourish, hoping it managed to cover for his slowly rising panic. He rebuked himself inwardly for his cowardice. After all, ‘twas not as if he had anything to lose at this point.

He could not see, but rather felt, the Ascian roll his eyes. “Are you ready to begin?”

“No time like the present,” he answered. Even if this were to be his end, he must admit it was a fascinating way to go.

Emet-Selch paused incredulously at the man who wore an outward nonchalance hardly befitting someone on the cusp of shedding his mortal frame. He extended his hand towards him, and then announced, “I advise you brace yourself. This will hurt.”

Amon barely had time to second-guess his decision before he felt a veritable explosion in his skull. The pain was like nothing he ever felt. It dropped him to his knees. A language he did not know—he could not even make out words—resonated in his mind, as he felt his very essence being crushed, stretched, extracted. The last sound Amon’s corporeal form would ever make was a protracted, piteous cry of agony.

And then it was over.

He stood there, a tangible soul without body, staring agape at his own crumpled corpse on the ground. The stone. He was meant to be focusing…

The memories contained in it all flooded him at once. 

Ever had he been a man of science, but it was one thing to learn information, and another to just know it. He reeled from all that he suddenly understood. Those masked figures around him—he did not know most of them. But of course he wouldn’t. They were not of The Fourteen. The Fourteen? Yes, of course. Emet-Selch had introduced himself already, but even apart from that, he knew him. He recognized that self-congratulatory smirk that he saw on his face even now.

And those two others in red masks—one wearing black robes, the other in white. “By the Emperor,” Amon gasped. My, what an absurdly weak oath that sounded like anymore. “Lahabrea. Elidibus.”

The former Ascian gave no reaction he could discern, but the latter offered a nearly imperceptible smile. “Welcome back, Fandaniel,” he replied.

He could not remember anything prior to swearing his oath of office. Well, that, and his life as Amon. That was fine. He had been warned of as much prior to accepting the Ascians’ offer. But he wracked his newfound knowledge for context for his dreams—something, anything to confirm that this was not a colossal mistake. A testing ground that was a garden… ah, of course. Elpis. He knew that place. He had worked there. He was overseer there.

He was Hermes.

He staggered under the weight of the realization. How could it—but he was. He was. This was his soul. It was all true. It was all real.

He resisted the unseemly urge to cry at these newfound memories, although it briefly occurred to him to wonder if, in this form, tears would even flow. He dug through his own mind like his now-past-self had once dug through tomes of research, relieved that at last he could untangle the mystery that had stalked him nearly every night. He would be able to understand. He would…

He…

He felt his gut twist at the yawning void where he expected answers to be.

The stone held no memories of that time, but he had not expected it to. That was not the problem. But that confusion? That dissonance? That primal scream of “why”?

Those were not Amon’s.

They were Hermes’s.

Darkness take me, he thought, swearing by a deity he only just now understood.

…What have I done?

[windupnamazu]

the gentleness hidden in the night

ffxivwrite2023 #08: shed lose (hair) as a result of molting, disease, or age.

Lunya/G'raha. Howl's Moving Castle AU. 244wc. ⮞ You found me in the future, and now it's my turn to find you.

When she finds him, stumbling from the darkness of the very same door she and Cola followed her ring through before, he's uncomfortably still.

Blood drips from cuts she can and cannot see, hitting the ground like the aftermath of rain, an iron twist on petrichor. The once-pearlescent feathers overtaking his form are ragged and clouded, ruffled in every direction; they cloak him like a funeral shroud, weighing him down til he's haggard and nearly shapeless. Lunya parts the feathers veiling his face and her heart breaks—his sanguine eyes, though bright as ever in hue, stare dully into nothingness, looking straight past her. He is almost unrecognizable like this. But Lunya has learned hope, and she knows this: human or wizard or monster, G'raha Tia or the Crystal Exarch or Noah whatever else he would call himself, she would know him anywhere.

"I'm sorry I've kept you waiting," she murmurs, cupping his blood-stained face. She runs her thumb over his lower lip before she kisses him chastely and whispers, "Can you take me to Feo Ul?"

With no change in expression, not even so much as a blink, G'raha rises, revealing elongated talons as he spreads his wings. His form seems to get bigger as Lunya steps towards him, delicately balancing herself on his foot as Cola leaps on beside her, and with a burst of iridescent feathers they soar over the broken valley towards the last surviving piece of their castle, their home.

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2023 14. Clear

Characters: Lucia Junius, Artoirel de Fortemps, Jannie Eyradoux, Honoroit Banlardois, Emmanellain de Fortemps, U'rahn Nuhn, Aymeric de Borel Expansion: Endwalker (No Spoilers) Rating: T for Nuhn Notes: N/A

“Ser Junius, we have come at your command. How can House Fortemps assist you?”

The Temple Knight commander didn’t look up at Artoirel and Jannie as the two approached her desk. Her fair cheeks were flush, eyes unable to meet the young couple as young Honoroit giggled in a chair behind her. The elder Fortemps shot a glare to the boy, getting the pageboy to be silent as Lucia composed herself.

“There was an incident in the Jeweled Croizer, involving your younger brother and U’rahn Nuhn.”

Jannie sighed, while Artoriel cursed under his breath. Lucia was taken aback for a moment by the lack of initial concern for the two’s well-being. Clearing her throat, she moved to stand then looked back to Honoroit, “Anyroad, it seems they were victims of a rather juvenile prank which resulted in…indecent exposure.”

“Indecent…The Fortemps name is sullied isn’t it? This is the end of our great house…” Artoriel breathed out, looking up to the ceiling.

Jannie gently took Artoritel’s arms against her to comfort him as she looked to the Commander, doing her best to comfort him as he reeled. 

“What were the circumstances exactly?”

“I think young Honoroit here should explain the details,” Lucia answered sternly, stepping aside so that the couple could focus on him.

The teen was stifling his amusement, swallowing his laughter with a deep breath. “I offered to treat Master Emmanellain and Master U’rahn to a meal with the royalties from my recent publication. In a moment of youthful indiscretion I thought to play a prank upon them. I should have known better, seeing who they are.”

“Out with it! What did you do, “Artoriel demanded.

“Well, Master Emmanellain fancied himself a new coat and we found ourselves in the tailor. I happened upon an empty hanger and then inspiration struck. I held it out before me and told them what extravagant fabric I had found. Of course they were perplexed at my findings, yet their nature prevented them from being entirely skeptical. I proceeded to explain it was made from a rare plant in Coerthas that once harvested and spun into fabric, only the most heroic of men could perceive it. Well, of course they then proceeded to proudly proclaim they both could see it.”

“Seven hells..,” Artoriel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Surely they didn’t,” Jannie started before letting out another sigh,, “Of course they did. Oh, Honoroit. This is mischief worthy of Violet. Why did you not stop them!?”

“I did try. Honest Ms. Eyradoux! Before I could step in they were fighting over a hanger and making a scene. I offered a second hanger to resolve matters and in a flash they’d paid the confused shopkeep then disrobed and pantomimed putting on their ‘heroic’ vestments before running out into the street.”

“Where we then in turn swiftly apprehended them and brought them to their cells. As you can imagine we’ve had a bit of trouble convincing them they have been victims of mischief,” Lucia sighed.

Artoriel glowered at Honoroit while Jannie shook her head. The boy shrugged, “I cannot help that I’ve built up a reputation as the straight man to Master Emmanellian’s antics. It made for the perfect storm of hijinks.”

“It seems it has,” Jannie hummed, unable to prevent herself from cracking the slightest of smiles. 

“Don’t you dare give this any life. Commander, where are the idiots?”

“Right…this way,” Lucia answered, cheeks flushing once more, leading the two down to the cells. 

Approaching, both smallclothed clad men hurried to their bars, looking up eagerly to the couple. U’rahn’s tail danced around behind him with excitement as he looked up into Jannie’s eyes while Emmanellain did the same toward his brother.

“Great tidings my brave, heroic brother. Please tell the Commander here that surely there has been some mistake and you can see the dazzling coat I am in,” Emmanellain begged.

“Yeah Yeah! You’re a Warrior of Light light me! Jannie! C’mon C’mon! Tell her there’s a mistake.

Jannie simply smiled, letting Atroriel put his head against the bars, eyes burning with rage to the point that both men cowered, “Lady Commander, I do not see my brother here. Nor Master U’rahn. These miscreants should be left in here to never again see the light of day.”

“If you’re sure Lord Fortemps,” Lucia answered with a light bow.

Jannie and Artoirel exited, leaving the two duped fools to cry and beg. Hours later when Lucia broke down and brought down the Lord Commander himself to flusteredly assure the two they were indeed half-naked, they finally began to doubt themselves and see through young Honoroit’s ruse. 

[morocosmos]

FFxivWrite2023 Day 4 - Off The Hook

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Original Female Character(s), eventual OCxOC (F/F), Sanson Smyth, Guydelot Thildonnet, Sanson/Guydelot Rating: Teen & Up (may change) Additional Notes: Deipo is the younger sister of my WoL, Moro'a, and his only surviving family. You can read about how they were unhappily reunited here.

“You were supposed to ensure she stayed within her accommodation.” Sanson looked tired, too weary to put any real steel into his voice. But still determined to hold Guydelot accountable.

As any good captain would, Guydelot reasoned to himself, in resignation. It was late in the day as they stood in Sanson’s office. Sanson had returned from Quarrymill about a bell ago when Guydelot called him, and he’d been none too pleased to learn that their charge had been allowed to make a run for it, resulting in further injuries. Their superiors had received the news not long after, and Guydelot knew Sanson would’ve already received a word of warning.

“They have only permitted our unit to watch over Deipo because Moro’a put his trust in us, Guydelot. Champion of Eorzea or otherwise, even his word can only go so far.” Guydelot didn’t care a lick about what the top brass thought, but the thought of making things harder for Moro’a stung, and he scowled. “Aye, I get you. No more injury-defying escape attempts,” he replied. He knew what’d gone wrong; he just wanted this to be over with.

Sanson sighed, and at last he sat down on the couch. Guydelot watched as the hyur’s tense shoulders relaxed by an ilm, feeling the urge to press his hands over them, massage the rest of the stress out. “I wasn’t just letting her off for no good reason,” he said, after a moment. “She was going to try sooner or later — I figured she’d find no reason to run once she’d seen why for herself. I meant to catch up with her before she could hurt herself, but Matron’s teats, she’s fast.”

Sanson nodded; the smallest of smiles curved his lips. “I figured that might have been the case,” he said, softer now. “And I trust you to make the decisions you deem right…just, be careful. Deipo has been through much as it is, and we must proceed as best we can if we are to gain her trust.”

Guydelot grinned, safe in the knowledge that Sanson had let him off the hook. “I will do, Chief,” he promised. Satisfied, Sanson nodded again. After a moment’s hesitation, he patted the spot on the couch next to him. Guydelot didn’t hesitate to join the hyur, and it wasn’t long before they were huddled together, Sanson ensconced in the bard’s arms. It’d taken moons just for him to allow for such affection in his office, and even then only when no one else was around; they were still on duty, as Sanson never forgot to remind him. But they’d gotten this far, and Guydelot was more than happy to take it.

“I do make good decisions sometimes,” he insisted playfully. “Just unorthodox ones.”

Sanson chuckled quietly. “Would that they didn’t raise the hairs on my neck so often,” he said, without any real complaint.

[ffxivtribehydrae]

#14 Clear

For FFxIvWrite2023 Characters: Chimeg Uyagir, Zo'ogai, Zo'tall Warnings: Dysfunctional family

It was so obvious, wasn’t it?

Yet she had clung to the hope that it wasn’t as it appeared. It was just a phase they needed to get over. After all they had both been thrust into such a big change in their lives. He just needed time to get used to it, and she’d be patient.

And Chimeg had been patient for many cycles. Endured the loneliness of whenever her supposed husband turned away from her at night, only knowing his back when she sought some kind of connection. Struggled to keep up the façade of a happy family, raising his son essentially on her own, as leaving the boy with his father had just resulted in displeasure from the man she thought she had feelings for. Comforted herself with the idea that things would change as their son grew older, perhaps he simply struggled with small children or was shy to get close to her as their first meeting to being married happened so fast.

Zo’tall was about to turn four when she began to doubt any change would ever occur, that perhaps her husband had untold feelings about her he did not share. Did he change his mind about them being together, and when, in that case? No, she wouldn’t lose faith that easily, Nhaama wouldn’t lead her into such a cruel fate as this.

She tested him. She sought the touch of another, as discreet as she could, having learned the ideals of this tribe that were they caught, they’d both be in for punishment. The man was not of Hydrae blood, married into the tribe just like her, which was all she cared about knowing of him.

Would he be jealous? If he truly loved her surely her announcement of being pregnant would incite some sort of feelings, which they could hopefully speak about, and make amends for her conspiring. Even if anger was what greeted her, she’d take it.

But Zo’ogai said not a word while the tribe congratulated them both on the family expansion. He’d just looked at her. Her husband and supposed love had nothing to say about her sin, even if they both knew the last time they shared an intimate touch was far before their son was born.

Even Zo’tall was more interested when his half sister was born. It left the mother lost and confused. She didn’t allow herself grief; she was too far gone into this life to turn around now, wasn’t she? But no longer did Chimeg try earning Zo’ogai’s attention, and no longer did she force their son to spend time with an uninterested father.

Then when her partner in crime sought her out with the suggestion of a second sin, she agreed, there was nothing left to lose. A final few moons when she suddenly saw their relationship for what it really was, unobstructed by her feeble hopes and dreams. He wasn’t even present upon the birth of her second son. It had been so obvious all these years, in his every action- or lack thereof. Why had he brought her here then? Did the time they spent together in her home, among the Uyagir mean so little? Clearly he had played her for whatever selfish gains he held.

And so she decided, it was better to take the risk starting anew, take the risk fleeing alone into the night. Yes, in the morning she’d take her children, grab what provision she could carry and leave. While all lay asleep, she cradled a baby boy, held her daughter tight by the hand and gazed down at her first born.

As time passed she had seen more and more of the boy’s father in his features. From the blue eyes, to the unruly hair, to the pinkish highlights. She saw the man who brought her so much pain so clear in the boy that she couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him with her. Lest she wanted to be constantly reminded of the face whom stolen so much of her life already.

Before the sun’s rays had illuminated the forest, she ran. In the hopes she could reclaim her life somewhere else. She did not care for the fate that awaited her now ex husband and abandoned child. Perhaps it was cruel, but for once in her life, Chimeg chose herself.

[hiraethwyl]

FFxivWrite2023 #2 Bark

Kuni had been right of course. There were a plethora of hidey holes and quiet corners in Priarch where one could get away from things and work, if one wanted. Right at this moment he'd commandeered Spider's alchemy lab. Spider could be upset about it later if he chose, but in his defense the Keeper was a tidy intruder. At least once he was finished.

For now the long table was cluttered with bottles, both squat and large and small, though all amber in color to keep out the light. To one side of him a stack of thin reedy willow cuttings lay stacked like kindling. To the other a slightly less formidable stack of freshly stripped twigs. The table top in front of him was piled with strips of willow, both the outer bark and the soft creamy flesh just beneath-- the part where the medicine he wanted lived. If he were being particular he could scrape away the thin outer bark. But he was not being particular, he was being efficient and the bark didn't hinder the end result. His grandmother hadn't taught him to be picky, she'd taught him to get things done. There was a kind of silent almost grim satisfaction in going about a task with single minded devotion. He'd never been especially good at meditation no matter how hard he tried. He needed to be doing something, moving his hands, allowing his mind to focus and then wander until it came back to stillness. Maybe that was his meditation. He paused his task after a long while, glancing over at the tall jar that was to serve as the willow pickling vessel, for lack of a better term. And next to it the pickling solution: alcohol. Clear, strong, and probably not top shelf, but it would be fine enough to make a tincture. Reaching for the bottle he put it to his mouth and took a healthy swig. Then made a face once he'd finished. Definitely not quality. His hand went to the cuttings and he grabbed up a healthy handful to set aside. Just enough to make tea with later. Later like when he woke up with a raging hangover. After all the alcohol he'd drank tonight he had a feeling he'd be needing it.

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #28: Blunt

FFxivWrite2023

"You look more grumpy than usual..." Glancing to her twin, Shurenn could see the frustration in her sister's eyes. "You're mad at Jagodai again huh?" Seeing the small twitch of Dalain's tail, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "You know.. If you want to having a bonding ceremony that bad, you're going to have to just tell him... He's pretty dense, so you have to be clear, direct and blunt about it." Scowling Dalain did not respond for a moment, mostly because she knew her sister was absolutely correct, and because much like her mate, Dalain could be just as dense and she knew it.

"So what then? I just walk up to him and go, 'hey I know we've been together a bit, want to make it really official and have a bonding ceremony?' and just hope he says yes?" She huffed and stared at her sister, who sat with wide eyes. "What? At least say something?"

"You want a bonding ceremony? Sure..."

She froze as the voice of her partner cut through the quiet. It seemed the direct route, while not intentional, had yielded at least a positive result. "J-Jagodai... I didn't hear you... Approaching..." Immediately she became flustered and her tail would shift with agitation. The large Xaela simply stared down at his partner and her sister, seeming a bit confused as he did not register her tone as mocking towards her sister and simply took the words at face value. "So you want a ceremony right?" He paused waiting for a confirming answer. Ultimately Dalain could only nod. "Okay." With a shrug the warrior simply accepted it and motioned to Shurenn. "Go talk to Sadu and it can be arranged, just tell me when to show up." His direct nature was not unusual, but it seemed the shock of his easy agreeance had rendered Dalain mute.

"We'll get it sorted out." Shurenn cut in, the silence too awkward and uncomfortable to be allowed to continue. "Anyways... Shall we start prepping for dinner?" For the moment, it was best to change the subject, letting her poor sister recover and compose herself.

"Yeah, I'll go help the hunters." Jagodai flashed a grin and reached out to pat both girls on the head, then headed off without a concern in the world. Left on their own, Dalain seemed to visibly deflate and finally come out of her shock. "That really happened huh...?" She muttered, but all her sister could do was laugh a little and shake her head.

"Told you it was best to just be blunt with him."

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #26 - Last

"Oh Venat, I was expecting you."

Azem was at her loom again. The clicking and clacking paired with the movement of the wooden frames that made up the half room sized device came across as an alien string quartet.

Venat paused. That indeed was Azem's usual greeting, but why was it all of the sudden so... sinister? Venat had gotten used to just barging into the apartment that Halcyone shared with Hades and Hythlodaeus because Halcyone always had the door unlocked for her.

"Hail, Halcyone, you're certainly busy."

She smiled in the harried way of someone with too much on her plate. "Well, I just got back to Amaurot, and I'll be leaving once again in the morning. So I'm hoping to get a bit more of my weaving in before I must leave."

Venat was also recently returned to Amaurot after quite the eventful trip.

"Such a pity that my better thirds are still occupied with Hermes. But you at least were able to spend some time with all of them?"

For a moment there was only the clacking sound of wood on wood.

"...Indeed. I wasn't aware that Hades and Hythlodaeus had an appointment in Elpis, otherwise I would have gone to greet them upon their arrival."

"Strictly speaking, Hades had the appointment. Hythodaeus was simply the plus one "expert second opinion" that went simply to sight see and enjoy the scenery. Alas, if only I could have gone, but I was halfway across the Star when they first left, and I'll be halfway across the Star once more before they return!"

"Did you weave that in?"

"The set up, yes. the end result, not yet." Azem jabbed a finger into the broad tapestry she had been working on for years. I shall be sure to add in the consequences once they debrief with me."

Venat wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Azem angrily. She needed to know how much of the trip to Elpis was guided by her hand, how much she shaped directly or indirectly.

Instead she said, "Ah, if only Hythlodaeus could be convinced to seek more fresh air and green grass in a less grandiose manner."

"Alas, but his lust for the grandiose knows no bounds, and I dare say that Hades and I both agree that we fell for him partially because he was always little bit too much."

Hythlodaeus was the light that brightened Hades's grumpy little existence. Conversely, Azem felt his presence as calming and his voice as wise. On his part, Hythlodaeus played both roles extraordinarily well, sometimes switching without missing a beat, sometimes catering to both his lovers with the same turn of phrase.

Venat could only groan in mock disgust at how perfect the three were for each other...

It was indeed strange that Azem was consistently in the right place at the right time, especially as her gift was the ability to weave fates, not change them per se, but guide them in a manner that she found more palatable. In each and every tapestry that Azem finished was another chapter in the grand story of the Star.

Venat did not wish to doubt her handpicked successor, (Ah but why did she handpick her in the first place?) but Elpis had her on edge.

"I'm curious, Halcyone, you've been working on this particular tapestry here for moons now, on and off. Will time itself outpace the speed of your weaving?"

"'Tis why I labor tonight, desperately trying to keep my work from becoming yesterday's news today." Of course, she could not alter the past, only the future yet to come. But it was important to have the recent past set down as well to continue the threads.

"Does your aetheric influence extend forever had you the time? Would you weave the story of the Star five thousand, five hundred thousand, years from now, could you?"

Azem blew a low whistle and looked up from her work to see Venat's nonchalant smile.

"I suppose, had I the time and resources, yes, But my works are only as strong as the cloth that is woven. Doubtless, one day the sides will fray and the weave will become undone, and any prophecy yet to be fulfilled would no longer hold."

"So, a good while, but not forever."

"Perhaps if someone were to maintain the tapestries and keep them tidy in perpetuity they would exist for much longer, but Venat, I hardly can imagine what will happen one year down the line, let alone five hundred or five hundred thousand." She looked out at an invisible length of tapestry that had yet to be woven, stretching on for malms, "'Twould be imposing work, even the mere skeleton of a plan would surely take years to create."

With this, the cloud on Venat's mind lifted, "Ah, so you have no such grand overarching plans."

Azem laughed, "Ah, but therein lies the rub, I do. And yet years later, after so much weft in warp and so much dealing with the responsibilities of Azem, I have barely started planning out my notes for this plan. Mayhaps I will fill my days with just weaving and leisure once I have passed on the title of Azem myself."

Venat smiled again, cheerfully, but hollowly, "I look forward to the day."

So it was a matter of outlasting Azem's imagination, holding out further and longer than her grasp on her shuttle and the length of her thread. She would free herself from Azem's influence simply through perseverance.

"...'Twould be interesting to perceive a Star in which the power and influence of the Convocation had waned so utterly as to be forgotten, would it not? I wonder how it would look then to wander the world."

Venat looked back at Azem, her goodbyes forgotten.

"Pardon?"

"Without a direct connection to the present day, there would be no guarantee that I weave true, but now that I think of it, I could weave a bit of a tale..."

"Halcyone, forgive my intrusion. I really should get going. Never mind my silly aside when you have so much work yet to finish!"

Azem nodded and waved as Venat left as suddenly as she had arrived. But even as she passed the shuttle, weft over and under, her mind wandered.

Who would it be that saw the end of the Convocation? Who would outlive the rest of them, the last of their kind?

[ffxivaltstars]

FFXIVWrite2023 - Prompt 26 - Call it a Day

Every time was the same as the last. R'ianto knew that no matter how many possible leads he uncovered, or how many places he tried to look, he was always going to find the same results: absolutely nothing. He knew it as well as he knew that the sun would rise the next day. And yet he continued regardless.

Someone had joked once that that was the definition of insanity; doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. The hard thing for R'ianto, though, was that he didn't expect different results. He knew that every time he tried to track down any whiff of what may have happened to his mother, his search would turn up fruitless. But it didn't stop him from doggedly searching.

R'ianto had only been a child when his mother had vanished without a trace. One day he'd woken up to her smile and her bear hugs, only for her to never return from the day's hunt. The tribe had searched for her. He didn't blame them for their failure, especially considering his own lack of results, but it had left a festering ball of rage in his chest where his heart should have been.

Once again, R'ianto walked away from the hunt with nothing to show for it. Another day, another shot in the dark, another disappointment.

[neoma-eltanin]

Prompt #28: Blunt

For FFXIVWrite2023 Character: Neoma Eltanin Warnings: None

Thankfully it was not as terrible as it could have been. Blunt force trauma was serious enough, and could even be a matter of life and death. In this case however, all it resulted in was a bump on the head and a bruised ego, perhaps.

A little healing magic went a long way to mend physical wounds, but it could do little in regards to wounded pride. And from what Neoma could tell, the embarrassment was clear with how the body language of her unexpected patient acted.

Dusk's tail swatted across the sand, staring grumpily at the ocean where he sat on the beach. A complete shift from his eager behavior just minutes ago. The confidence was replaced with a nervosity to even step foot into the water again.

Perhaps he would think more carefully about chasing crabs around sharp, wet rocks surrounded by high waves in the future.

In any case, Neoma would keep an extra eye on him. As she often did.

(Dusk Hydrae belongs to @ffxivtribehydrae)

[pyxisfelixhaven]

ffxivwrite2023 #12 ;; d o w d y

In the comfort of their home, there was no chance for prying eyes to gaze upon the mess that Pyxis was creating.

Purple eyes bore holes into the fabric strewn upon her lap, feet perched upon the lip of the hanging wicker chair to draw the makeshift table closer to them. One hand held the fabric taught, the other a dull needle with thin off-coloured thread as originally neat backstitches evolved into wider running stitch. It had started as an interesting side project, something to wile away to late-afternoon hours when they got some time to themselves, but had now evolved into a chore. She hated the thought of leaving it unfinished, even more so with the lingering threat of friends wanting to see the end result, but she had once again bitten off more than she could chew.

A few pieces of their existing wardrobe had small adjustments here and there: patching up a hole torn in the midsts of battle, hemming a skirt to be just above the knee rather than below it, and one time even embroidering a few stars into their favourite pair of loungewear shorts for a little embellishment. Small things that no-one would notice unless pointed out, and people seemed to be impressed enough. But she was friends with some amazing crafters, the likes of whom could overhear someone's lament for a specific piece of clothing and have it completed in what felt like a snap of their fingers. She wasn’t jealous, per say, but if she could do small adjustments on existing pieces, then clearly they could just put all of those small skills together and create a brand new item for themselves.

After all, what was the difference between mending a person’s wounds and repairing some clothing?

The fact they couldn’t conjure assistance from the elementals was a big one.

Squinting harder through silver armed glasses, it had taken them until that moment to realise the sun was on the verge of settling underneath the horizon, and the natural light that had once streamed through the balcony window had shifted to a dim blue haze. A grumble emerged from her core, looking down at the almost completed stitchwork. Was it worth breaking off to light a candle, to risk burning the fabric by bringing it too close (again)? No, they huffed, it was nearly done. Just a few more stitches and it would finally be done.

A lingering scent of freshly baked goods drifted through the early evening air, their stomach growling in response. There were some amazing culinary residents in her ward, and neighbours often shared leftovers on nights they saw the mage returning late or after long periods away. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, but hells right now they wished it was. The light snacks prepared at the start of this final session of stitching had run dry hours ago, and their mug had just about dried out. But they were nearly done.

Just one last thing to hem, and it would be finished.

Putting aside the complaints from their weary physical form, Pyxis continued to focus on the last adjustment. The more distractions tried to tempt her away from finally finishing this annoyance, the bigger the stitches got. As long as it stayed in one piece, then it didn’t matter how loose the thread was, how rough the edges were. No-one would examine them as closely as they were doing right now after all.

Stars had formed in the darkening sky by the time that one last hem (that had turned into one last seam repair, one last snip of loose thread, one last neckline adjustment…) was finished, and the Au Ra could finally stretch out their legs with a sense of accomplishment. By the twelve they ached. They couldn’t remember the last time she’d moved her lower half; even her tail seemed to have cramped up and pricked with an annoyance of static, and they swore they felt their neck crack as it tilted back to allow them to stare at the bare ceiling. Bare feet twitched as they felt the soft texture of a plush rug underneath them, freed from the hard edge of the wooden chair at last, and knees stretched to full lock as they held the body’s light frame once more.

Piling the no longer required tools of their labour onto an already filled side table, Pyxis carefully shook out the tailored dress to reveal its full form, placing it up against their body. It felt like it would fit, but trying it on would be the true test. Of course, they’d taken it on and off many times before; pinning the waist to be more form fitting, repinning when she’d pulled it in a little too much, finally remembering to mark out an opening for their tail (that was the simplest task, having adjusted pieces to accommodate for this in the past), and most importantly making sure they hadn’t cut off too much fabric at the length to make the whole project unusable.

“It’ll be fine,” Pyxis reassured themselves, closing the balcony doors and drawing the curtains before starting to remove their shirt. “I didn’t make any changes to the fit so it’ll just be the same as before.” Worry crept into their whispers despite their words, pulling the dress on and tugging it down to sit on their hips. She worried when it felt a little loose on one side, but relief washed over them as they remembered the hidden zip that was still undone on one side of their ribs - she had been elated about how it had worked on the first attempt for days. Pulling up the zipper to secure the clothing in place, excitement started to overtake the worry. It fit, and from where she was staring down it looked like everything had turned out the way they had expected.

See, it wasn’t that hard!

They walked with a bounce in their step towards the full length mirror tucked in the corner of their small bedroom, having been brought out of storage to assist with the gradual completion of the project, twirling in front of it before standing poised for the grand reveal.

There was more than just a moment of silence as she looked over their form.

Pouring a cup of tea with a mouthful of toast, the pile of fabric lay crumpled atop the offcuts that had been created to make it. Better just to stick to small adjustments in the future.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 15: Portentous

The waiting was the hardest part.

Back and forth across the tile floor he paced, hands clasped behind his back, eyes narrowed in concentration. The hourglass on the display stand taunted him. It felt as if an eternity passed between each falling grain of sand. He was half-tempted to throw it across the room—but no. He still needed it.

How irritating.

With a groan of impatient frustration, he went over his notes for the umpteenth time, mentally rehearsing every step he had taken in sequence. Was he sure he had done everything? Had he triple-checked? Quadruple-checked?

Many moons of painstaking research had brought him to this point. It had taken him to libraries, universities, and to the very best experts he could find. It had produced trial after error after trial after near-success. Yet his goal forever eluded him.

He could not tell which drove him more mad: the attempts that had been abject failures, or the ones that had fallen just shy of success.

Could his life’s work at long last be within reach? 

No, he dare not even think it. It would not do to tempt fate this late in the process.

In the adjacent room, his colleagues were gathering. Workplace gossip spread here with a speed so dizzying it could make lightning envious. And thus no few peers were milling about, casually “just happening” to linger in the facility where they had most definitely not been invited. 

He had driven them out of his laboratory once already. Not that he could blame them for wanting to bear witness to history; but the history would only be made if they made way and let him work. 

Assuming he had perfected the formula, of course.

He stalked back over to the hourglass. It was close now. So very close. It took every fiber of his being to muster the self control not to touch it before the appointed time. But soon… just a few grains of sand more… and NOW.

His gloves were already on in readiness, so he whisked the cauldron off the fire and carefully withdrew its contents. He took a deep breath. Gently. For the love of everything good on this star and on all its reflections, don’t drop it.

Was it right? Had it worked? He examined his creation closely, scarcely daring to breathe. It looked right, anyway…

The assembled crew of his peers were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, but snapped to attention when his voice rang out over the din: “I THINK THIS IS IT!”

A collective gasp. A spontaneous half-circle as they crowded around—but not through—the door.

They parted like windswept wheat before him as he made his way through their midst. All eyes were on him as he carefully, reverently, set his miracle down on the table before them.

“Friends… colleagues. It is done.” His words were solemn and portentous. They all breathlessly awaited his conclusion.

“We have done it. No, actually, being honest, I have done it. But I could not have done it without you… probably. Although I have been quite motivated, I must say. Ahem.

“But fellow associates, I present to you…”

You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife—or perhaps in this case, with a spoon.

“THE MOST PERFECT PUDDING ETHEIRYS HAS EVER SEEN!!”

The crowd of loporrits raised a cheer—and also their spoons, head aloft in the air—at Puddingway’s long-awaited breakthrough. 

Gleefully, they descended in a swarm to peer-review his results.

[jasleh]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt 9: Fair

character: Rrahna time period: 6.4/Pandaemonium

...

Since Pandaemonium had appeared in the Aetherial Sea, barely a day went by that Rrahna didn't drop in to pester Fourchenault, Ruissenaud, or Nemjiji about the investigation. Had she any way to reach the place without help, she would not have bothered waiting on the Forum's ever so lengthy discussions. Through it all, one thought tormented her: was Eric in there? After falling for him hopelessly, knowing it was doomed from the start, was he somehow, impossibly still alive? Did he need help? Would he be as tall as the Watcher or the shades of Emet-Selch's recreation? It was impossible to get a sense of scale from within the bounds of the Aitiascope.

The disappearance of the Professor, in all honesty, was not high on her list of priorities. Oh, she'd pull him out of whatever fire he'd crawled into if she could, that was what she did, after all, but the only real impression he'd made on her was of someone enthusiastic and distractible. More bothersome was that he'd taken the memory crystal when he'd disappeared. Rrahna would have liked to have gotten Lahabrea's thoughts on it, odd as that felt to her.

When at last the response changed from "nothing new to report, investigation still ongoing" to "Fourchenault has uncovered something new and will meet us in the Aitiascope to discuss it," Rrahna was about ready to shake it out of the man. She had not anticipated just how crushing it would be - how much hope she had had - until Fourchenault's words stripped that hope away.

It was not Pandaemonium, somehow cast adrift from the flow of time. It was just a chunk of Azys Lla, relocated and reshaped. When she went into those oh so familiar halls, it would not be to search for Erichthonios, but Professor Claudien. Rrahna felt grief transmute into rage. Claudien, I swear, when I see ye again, I will punch ye for gettin' me hopes up. Was it fair to him? Probably not, but she didn't think this situation was terribly fair to her either.

Somehow, it never occurred to her to wonder what exactly Claudien had gotten up to that had resulted in such an effect, or the sheer volume of aether it must have required, or even how he had managed to make such a perfect replica of a place he had never seen.

Finding Athena was behind the reconstructed edifice was both unexpected and yet somehow not surprising at all. Finding out she held Claudien and had some manner of use for him likewise, although what exactly that use could be was a mystery. The true contents of the memory crystal and what Athena did with them, on the other hand…. Well, it distracted Rrahna thoroughly enough for Athena to escape with ass unkicked, that was for damn sure.

Erichthonios…. even with Lahabrea right there, even knowing he wasn't actually real, just memories made solid with the aid of a wandering soul…. it took every ounce of self-control Rrahna possessed to not run over and hug him. It hurt, seeing him here like this. It hurt so much, and yet it felt a blessing too.

Yet the moment everything seemed to shatter around her came after she had to fight Themis, almost had to watch him fade away for a second time. The moment Themis said he thought he knew why Athena needed Claudien… because he'd heard her call him by a different name. Erichthonios.

Erichthonios. Eric - or the memory of him - was confused, but Rrahna understood instantly, and it seemed Lahabrea had already suspected. Claudien was Eric's shard. Rrahna felt numb with shock, but knew that saving him had suddenly become a much higher priority.

…..

The time had come at last to fight Athena. Before heading into the unknown, Rrahna surveyed the three reconstructed Ancients with whom she had gotten this far. She would not trust Lahabrea with her precious scythe. Nor did she trust whatever plan that he'd come up with for Erichthonios, better not to give him something additional to worry about. She went up to Themis and pushed the scythe into his hand.

"This be very important to me. Do no lose it." He took it, giving her an oddly knowing smile. She started for the strange gateway into Athena's realm.

"Athena is not a foe to be underestimated. You will need your weapon." Lahabrea spoke up behind her. She did not even turn her head to answer.

"I hit harder without it."

…..

The last sight Rrahna had of Erichthonios was not of the reconstructed memory that Athena had made, but a projected one as Claudien projected his last message from the memory crystal.

"I leave this memory for you, the future of our star. The Final Days have come, and the creation magicks we have so relied upon now hasten our downfall. But despair has not yet won out. Lahabrea and the others of the Convocation are working to stem the chaos which threatens to engulf our star. Their plan requires great sacrifice. Elidibus - Themis - has already offered to give his life for our salvation. Yet there is another problem which must be dealt with: Pandaemonium…"

Rrahna watched the image, heart in her eyes and tears streaming down her face. With no one to witness save Themis and Claudien, she felt no shame, nor any need to hide.

"Alongside my warning, this memory shall carry a wish. Rrahna…may we meet again. Now listen well: If anyone receives this message, you must come to Pandaemonium. Please make haste. I repeat…"

With eyes only for the image in front of her, she never saw how Claudien watched her more than the message.