#Full Miqo'te Alchemist

[toadeyes-miqote]

I may have saved us all

I know I'm usually uncomfortable with praise. But in calming Meteion, I may have saved us all from a life time of vile tasteless bread and variations of anything carrot. This one time, I willingly accept the praise.

If I were to meet Fourchenault and he brings up food again. I would have to remind him he owes me big time.

What have you Sharlayns done to yourselves?

Imagine if you will. a life time or even generations of folks eating something like Archon bread and washing it down with carrot juice throughout their lives.

This might even cause a mutiny if Namazu were to be slaughtered for the sake of variety in taste. Or the Loporrits. Or even any of the bird folk who chose to flee with us.

A life time of everything carrot. Fourchenault. I saved us all from a worse fate than Meteion but no one will know of it. Unless you somehow figure it out from the plates of carrot nibbles constantly being sent to you.

Everything carrots

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

Congrats Fourchenault somehow you triggered her vindictive and petty nature. Spite is 99 servings of carrot nibbles to hand in as leves

[eikonoklast]

Day 11 (Surrogate): The Mirage

   The emerald carbuncle chased its three tails around and around, little sparkling traces of aether in its wake. The arcane creature was vibrant and full of life as it rolled around on the ground, tussling with itself. Chiteni called his familiar Chesan, but Gosetsu had once misheard him, thinking he had said cheese. Of all things. The surly warrior had been annoyed by the misunderstanding more than Chesan's owner had - who was just as disgruntled - but the name had caught the interest of the twins, who decided a new name was in order. 

   So it was that Cheese the carbuncle trundled amicably from table to table, pawing at legs and begging for scraps and introducing itself with a cute little flourish. The Meyhane was fairly busy this afternoon, so there were plenty of victims to fall prey to the familiar's puissant charms. Chiteni watched his charge carefully in case the aetherial kit caused any trouble. The two certainly couldn't be further in disposition. 

   “Thank you for waiting.” Chiteni's ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice. The miqo'te was a powerful mage, but fairly pedestrian when it came to controlling his vast reserves of aether with any sort of precision. And with the bustling crowd and vibrant colors of the Meyhane, he knew it would stimulate his vision overmuch. Everything too bright, too layered - the physical and aetherial. To amend this, he often wore a blindfold while using magicks, especially ones that required more focus. Thus did he see his companion's unique aether, bright as a warm sun underneath even the darkness of his covering. The luminous smaragdine hue swirling about the form of a young boy.

   “Varshahn,” he got up from his chair, offering a small bow. The colorful outlines of the people in the Meyhane shimmered out of the corner of his vision, but none burned so fiercely nor so beautifully as the great wyrm's. Even in his simulacrum - a vessel for his will - his aether was too unique to conceal perfectly. 

   “Please, sit. I hope I am not interrupting your meal.”

   Chiteni had been sitting alone at the table. He hadn't come to eat in the first place: his presence was simply requested by the satrap. But the friendly server Mihleel wasn't one to listen, especially not to those who had saved her beloved city. She had first come out from the back with water. Then again with some fragrant and warm reddish tsai. Upon her third visit she seemed disgruntled that Chiteni had not ordered anything - enough so that she had returned with some simple slices of the Meyhane's honeyed dragonfruit; the snow white flesh covered in a sweet, lemony coating. He had eaten a bit simply to satisfy her - and Cheese had as well though not necessarily for the same reason.

   “This? No, no; your people just have more hospitality than I can handle.” He smiled. “You had need of me?”

   “Yes, there has been some trouble of a more…arcane nature. My alchemists are perplexed - it is not a chemical reaction. Perhaps it is best I show you.” Varshahn's voice was commanding but still gentle at the same time. Chiteni couldn't see the finer details but he imagined those vibrant red eyes staring back into his own with a measured intensity. “There is no need for concern, I do not detect any problems arising. But we would have peace of mind if you would visit and give your opinion.”

   “Chesan,” the little creature turned from the table where it had been nibbling bits of food a dissatisfied child had generously donated. Quickly running up to him it pounced into the air, morphing into a blueish corvid and alighting on his shoulder. Chiteni followed the satrap out of the Meyhane, happy to be away from the heat and press of bodies - alongside the noise that accompanied them.

   “I was not aware you used familiars in your spellcasting,” the great wyrm said as they flew over the violet hills of Thavnair; the sun sinking below the waters of the coastline and setting the sky on fire with vibrant reds, lavenders, and turquoise. 

   “Not normally, no. But they help with focus. And you mentioned this wasn't a very dangerous situation, so I simply imagined explosions weren't necessary.” 

   “Indeed,” the great wyrm shook his head gently. “I have need of your sight.”

   The two flew over the Shroud of the Samgha, its tropical trees waving calmly in the faint ocean breeze. There was a hush over the dark forest below; the sound of Vrtra's great wingbeats pounding in gentle rhythm with the distant crash of the surf. As they approached their destination, Vrtra gently landed in an open stretch of grass, his wingbeats causing animals to scatter back into their trees and holes, their eyes lighting up the shadowy forest with myriad shining reflections as they watched curiously.

   Chiteni recognized the stone structure that lay before them. A large rectangular pool stretched out for several yalms, its waters emerald yet clear. In the fading light he could make out the bottom as well as the surrounding gaja statues that lined the sides, their tops covered with soft green moss, the stones weathered and smooth. The statue of a gaja-headed deity Chiteni did not know adorned the far side of the pool; its six arms both raised and lowered, stern visage watching over. The Font of Maya, the people called it. A place of illusions. 

   Vrtra bade Chiteni go to the water with a gesture. The miqo'te approached calmly, his familiar still perched upon his shoulder and bobbing its head curiously to and fro. 

   “What doest thou see? In the pool?” Vrtra's voice was…unknowable. His intention difficult to ascertain.

   Chiteni looked down into the water. With his blindfold on, all other things fell away into an inky darkness. But the surface of the water was as it had ever been: tranquil.

   “Nothing, at present.” 

   “Soon, then. Let us wait a moment.” 

   Vrtra beckoned Chiteni to come sit beside him for a time while the sun continued to dip beneath the waves. The stars began to appear in the sky, twinkling through the descending darkness like pinholes in its dark mantle. Out of his peripheral vision, Chiteni noticed something around the water. A strange aura began to emanate from it, the air above awash in soft shades of mauve and cobalt. It was hard to see in his mask while looking directly at it, so he kept turning his eyes away while he sat, cocking his head to the side. 

   “You see it, yes?”

   “Yes…I guess I do. One moment.” Chiteni got up, approaching the water as the air shimmered above it, dancing with all the colors of a rainbow. The light rippled as though it were water in the sun; streaks of white interlacing greens, reds, yellows, blues, purples…It shimmered in an intangible way. As if the colors themselves were liquid. Looking down into the water below, Chiteni saw no such activity. Nothing arcane of any sort, nor any living thing that might be causing the strange phenomenon. 

   “I can't say I understand what is causing this,” he admitted, perplexed. “I see no lingering enchantment - nor any evidence of an object of arcane origin nearby.”

   “What would you see if you removed your blindfold?” Vrtra asked simply. “I do not mean to pry, if it is of a personal nature. I have heard that you have need of it to dampen your senses. What if you did not do so?”

   “No that's…a reasonable observation,” Chiteni reassured him. “Generally everything is too bright. I cannot channel my aether properly when it comes to many things - my sight included. When I am using magicks everything becomes overlayed with energy. Like…staring at the sun.”

   “What if you used your energy to see through my eyes?” Vrtra asked. 

   “I don't understand.”

   “Channel your energies and I will do the same. We will act as one. I will show thee.” Vrtra walked over to the waterside, the air above still shimmering beautifully. He lowered his head. “Place thy hands.”

   Chiteni placed a palm on Vrtra's horned snout gently. He could feel the hum of the wyrm's incredible power beneath his fingertips - like a wave barely suppressed before breaking onto the shore. 

   “Now. Feel me. Reach for my mind with your own. I shall help thee.” 

   Chiteni considered this carefully, and he opened his mind to the possibility. He felt Vrtra's massive, powerful wings, his senses guiding him down the length of his body. His mighty tail swished with calm restraint that belied a formidable power, and his strong legs led down to wicked talons. Chiteni felt their grip on the ground as if the grass was under his own bare feet. Vrtra's chest rumbled with each breath and Chiteni could feel his own breaths syncing - the two in time with one another. As if they both breathed through these great bones. He could feel the spark of the fire deep within as they exhaled, and Chiteni opened his eyes.

   They were many feet off the ground, head pressed into a small human hand. They lifted their neck with some effort, gently swinging their mighty head towards the waterside. Through the great wyrm's eyes - their eyes - with the arcane abilities of his human form: they saw. The light was no longer blinding. The colors were visible even without the contrast of darkness. The lights swam and spiraled through the air, forming into shapes for the briefest of moments before fading away; too quick to grasp their true meaning. 

   Shocked by the strange sensation, Chiteni fell back into himself with a rush, tumbling onto the ground and panting like he'd been running for his life. “What- how did you do that?” he gasped.

   Vrtra turned his head towards the man at his feet. His eyes shone with amusement. “What did you see?” asked the great wyrm, ignoring the question.

   Chiteni slowly sat up, thinking deeply. “I saw-”

Author's Note: As much as I'd like to ACTUALLY put something here, that's gotta be it for the night. I'm tired and there's sleep to be had! The prompt is pretty obvious in this one, so I'll just leave it up to your imagination for now :)

[wyrathevioletmage]

Pinned Post - Meet Wyra!

Hello! Wyra Dakwhil, also known as the Violet Mage, at your service :)

[ooc]

This is @catsidhesilvie's FFXIV RP side blog for my main, Wyra Dakwhil!

Feel free to ask questions and get responses from Wyra's perspective. Light RP okay, nothing explicit.

I'll include a gpose or illustration with each response bc why not!

This will also be where I post art of her and chronicle Wyra's journey through NG+ via screenshots and GPOSE! So expect full spoilers, at a slow rate. I'll tag by expansion for the NG+ stuff.

Wyra is a moon/sun miqo'te from the North Shroud who specializes in offensive magic, though her roots were in archery until she sustained an injury to her eye. She has both a WOL and non-WOL/NPC backstory, so feel free to specify which you refer to. By default, posts/answers will treat her as the WOL unless noted.

Wyra's carrd with more history and info than anyone will ever need to know (but there so I can keep my own lore straight): violetmage.carrd.co

Basic intro below!

NPC Wyra:

Arcanist and alchemist

Demi/bi but taken

Has the echo

Eternally bonded to another arcanist who is primarily an onion farmer and only studies magic in his off-time

Carbuncles are her favorite thing ever and she spends a lot of time studying them and teaching people how to work with them

Founded the Rosebriar Coven free company and works to provide potions and magical support to the Dravanian/Coerthas area, where her father's and brother's tribe is located

Has goals to visit Old Sharlayan and Thavnair to study more magic/alchemy

Doesn't know the WOL but has heard of them and admires them/does NOT want to be them

WOL Wyra:

"Violet Mage" custom all-rounder WOL job based on her knack for learning spells from everywhere but also fighting with a sword like an RDM

Demi/bi, seemingly single

Has an unusual gift working with animals that are not rabid/mindless

Azem's source shard

Most of the canon events happen to her

[meowww-ffxiv]

Thinking about what Liios told Venat when she asked about his travels.

He'd start with Sharlayan first. The first place he called home when he and Ptolemy stepped out into the world, isolated as it was. He told her of his brother, and of the miqo'te healer who adopted them both. This second mother's kindness, her singular drive to afford her new sons a future they had the health and the means to enjoy...

He would tell Venat of her garden, which to him was like a miniature of Elpis's beauty. It should be much too cold for most flowers-bearing plants to grow naturally this far north, but because Ptolemy's bedroom afforded him full view of it from the window, their mother recruited the help of the Leveilleurs' expert gardeners and botanists from the Studium to grow beautiful, fragrant plants there.

Then there was Coerthas. Green hills of grass, bears behind every other tree but the fragrance of wildflowers was so overwhelming in the short, beautiful springs. The swamps, the sea, the wind roaring on the cliffs. Marbled halls and blue-tinted walkways. Students pouring in from every corner of this war-torn land. Liios told Venat their names, their hopes, their dreams. What they'd shared with him. The wonder in their eyes as he showed them how far they could take the knowledge they thought was simply "common sense", enriching and honing it until it became a tool for discovery.

Thavnair, too. The humid and evergreen jungles. The complexity of commerce and cultures. The fruits and the honey, sweet and varied. The people, the music, the colorful pieces of their lives he bore witness to. The way the sun lit up the hills as it set. Alchemists' consummate dedication to their craft. Their joy of discovery and learning.

Eorzea and its climes. Its bloodied history, its stubbornness, its peoples' differences bridged as destruction swept through the realm. How their faith pushed them through the ashes of Dalamud's fall, how the love of one old man resonated with many and birthed a miracle.

He told her of all the friends he made, and the ones he lost. He told her of each place he visited. He told her of Yotsuyu and Ilberd. Fordola and those lost to primals or occupation.

In the end he said, "And there is so much more. No man might see every corner of this world. Our lives are short, our strength fades with age. We aren't like you. We can't choose when or how we return to the star. But in knowing our end and passing on our story, our legacy, I think we find a great joy in that. To put our faith in those who follow after. It's a great comfort, and one last spark of excitement as we pass into oblivion."

She took his words to heart. So the world became the way it was.

[voidtouched-blue]

( defend ) : Cyra finds Kaleh'a unconscious as the result of a fight

Cyra wasn't sure if Kaleh'a's quick acceptance of her offer to travel by foot from the Shroud to Thanalan was in understanding or mockery of her dislike for travel by Aetheryte. It wasn't something she was direct or honest about considering how common it was used. In fact, it was a rather touchy topic for the Keeper. For someone as skilled in healing and aetheric manipulation as she, the idea that traveling by magic made her ill was embarrassing. Even stranger still was his quick response to her proposal of taking the longer path to their destination.

He had expressed an interest in her method and process for crafting potions, salves, and poultices to aid in traditional healing when magic was either unavailable or unwarranted. In her mind, anyone willing to learn to give quality aid to themselves or others were more than worthy of being granted that knowledge free of cost. Her only stipulation was that he seek out a true master of the craft, which would require him to enroll in the Alchemist's guild at least for a little while until he understood the basics. The next step after that would be understanding how the different extracts of herbs and binding mediums interact to form the life-saving ointments.

There is always a chance for infection, but quick action and the right medicine can save life and limb.

It was something she learned rather quickly the first time she spent a full day healing wounds from a training accident among the Wood Wailers. She would be damned if she allowed another to make the same mistake and approach first aid without the proper tools.

The trip to Thanalan was relatively uneventful. Perhaps a few territorial creatures along the way, but Kaleh'a was more than happy to take the time to show off his hunting prowess. Cyra didn't doubt his skill in defending either of them from a monster or two. He seemed quite delighted to be able to protect her, even if she didn't really need it. Once they had reached Black Brush Station, it seemed as good a time as any for a brief respite before continuing on to Ul'Dah. Having traveled for the better part of the day in the drying heat, the two of them could use a few moments' rest before attending to business.

The healer had taken her time to check with the chocobo porter on the availability of birds to aid them in their last leg of the journey. Not even gone for more than ten minutes, and her keen ears had picked up the sound of conflict from the local bar. As she stepped through the doors, she felt concern rise in her chest in tandem with her eyebrows at the scene before her.

Not even a full moment to pass, and of course he's on the floor.

By the looks of it, he had entered, not even finished his first beverage before either instigating or jumping into a scuffle already in progress. It wasn't until she knelt by his side, gently hovering the back of her hand over his open mouth, that she heard the rather crass comment on her appearance and choice of clothing that she understood what had happened.

As he was always quick to point out, Kaleh'a was a gentleman first and foremost. To hear a patron of the establishment he was visiting commenting inappropriately about his companion was a violation he could not tolerate in silence. So, the bard had likely clapped back with an insult or two of his own to even the ground. And he probably hadn't expected the sucker punch that struck right in that sweet spot of the jaw.

That will leave one hells of a bruise, but he'll be all right, she thought.

Standing back up to confront the man who had knocked out her friend, she politely asked if she could lean her staff up against a nearby table. Stepping around Kaleh'a's nearly-limp form on the floor, Cyra pointed at the proud man sipping on a mug of ale and called out wordlessly to grab his attention. He turned from his cup to look at the small Miqo'te approaching him and began to laugh as he looked to his own companions with a cockeyed smile.

Just like all thugs spending their first gil from each job on spirits to celebrate, he made a mistake in paying her no mind. Cyra may have been small, but she knew how to throw her weight around. She slapped the mug out of his hand, and right when he held his arms out in protest she swung with a closed fist, targeting the same weak point in his own mandible in revenge.

"Learn to hold your tongue next time," she spat as the Hyur collapsed in a graceless flop from his stool to the floor.

It wasn't often that she could get in a good hit, but drunkards were the easiest to strike. Of course, none of the idiot's companions would step up to fight a woman half their friend's size who just took him out with one hit, and if they did they were incredibly stupid to think they wouldn't get the same treatment. She turned to return to Kaleha's slowly waking form on the floor, unsure of how much he was able to process with his current dazed state.

"Can you hear me? Kaleh'a?" Her hand gently cupped the side of his face, checking for any further damage.

[lesenbyan]

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet, named WoL (Eve) Triggers/Content warnings: violence, blood >mentions of: torture, kidnapping, and murder,

alt pov from: 1, 2

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She can't stop the mantra in her head berating herself, even behind the red hot anger coursing through her veins keeping her moving. It was stupid to think her loved ones were safe when she was as well known as she was. It was stupid to assume no one who could get to them would wish her harm. Stupid to trust. Stupid.

They had left a body trail, and not even, necessarily, a hard one to follow now that she was looking. The first she hadn't even remembered the name of. They had spent a night together and, apparently, that had been enough for whoever this was to start their trail. And she followed it with more desperation and fervor with each person she found, each person she had known, however briefly, turned into nothing more than a disfigured corpse. A few survived, but not without substantial effort and willpower on their part, remembering enough to give her details about these kidnappers.

There were two of them, one seeming to delight in all things violence, another an immaculately put together alchemist. Or poisoner, truly, from the sound. And they has Sanson and Guydelot now. She didn't want to imagine what was being done to them, she didn't want to know- she had to know, she couldn't turn away from the injuries they bore for her- but she would see them anyway, if this intel had been correct. If she was lucky.

She doesn’t think about the serpent private barely clinging on, dumped for dead and found quickly enough to speak to before his passing. Doesn’t think about the horror and guilt in the man's eyes when he looks at her. She doesn’t know what her face said then. She doesn’t begrudge the man any information given away in a haze of pain and fear, she truly doesn't, but her blood ran cold when she heard Sanson and Guydelot hadn't returned from their last routine mission. They could take care of themselves. But if they had been captured together…

Eve could only hope whatever information they spilled would save their captors enough to keep them alive.

I'm a healer now, I can heal. But it's far from her main, it's far from her best, and it's far from her first priority, running full tilt through Gelmorran ruins. She had already tripped and fallen hard once but had simply gotten up and kept running, barely registering any concern uttered by Ibakha or Cynthia at her flanks. She didn't feel it. She would feel it later.

She hears them before she sees them and thinks that's careless of them. Amateur. She doesn't register words, but she does voices, she hears Guydelot and she hears a fire still in his tone and relief washes over her like a current leaving only the rage that has motivated her through these twists and turns, that told her she couldn't and wouldn't wait for an official search. And rage, unchecked by fear, is a dangerous thing.

As soon as she sees them, she picks up speed she didn't know she still had to gain and screams her rage, running bodily into the strange Miqo'te, desperate to get his hands off Guydelot. She had brought her bow, a quiver of arrows on her hip, but she didn't take the time to draw it. She had been a pugilist first, and it shows; the moment the shock of hitting the ground wears off, Eve's punching. She's not paying attention to where, but she feels her first connecting, and he punches her face, breaking her nose, angling to knock her off of him. She screams and tangles her hands in his hair, lifting his head and slamming it against the stone below it. It stuns him, for a moment, long enough for Eve to wrap her hands around his throat, nails digging into his skin as she squeezes.

But then the moment passes, and even as he's choked, the man bucks his hips and throws her off of him and she rolls across the dusty ground, trying to get her feet back under her.

She sees a gleam of steel and distantly notes their battlefield, Sanson and Guydelot safe, guarded by Ibakha, axe drawn but idle, not needing told. She sees nothing of the Elezen stranger she had seen on approach- nor her sister and assumes they must have disappeared together. She doesn't have time to worry about them, however, as her opponent dashes at her, lightning quick and she rolls away, just in time to dodge his blade and kicks his feet from under him. She pulls her bow, now, but not for its intended use, tucking it under his chin as he wobbles but doesn't quite fall, and pulls. She hears his choke as he stumbles backwards until his back is pressed to her and she doesn't loosen her grip.

"Must be real gods damned stupid to think you can take me," she growls in his ear, voice marred by the broken nose and blood on her face. Her hands slide across the wood of her bow, grip coming closer to his throat and becoming firmer for it, pulling harder. Ready to fight to the last, Eve feels a knife sink into her thigh and she screams, grip loosening just long enough for him to drop out of her choke hold. She discards her bow, and doesn't bother to remove the blade from her leg before charging and knocking them both to the ground again. She had the weight advantage- he was muscular but lean- and she wasn't afraid to use it to stay upright. Nails tear her skin and she screams again, half rage, half pain, as he once again tries to dislodge her. Sinking her claws into his scalp again, she bashes his head against the ground once more. She doesn’t give him time to regain his senses this time, however, bashing his head over and over and over until she feels the rage subsiding and she's left with little more than a bloody mess of bones and hair in her hands.

The red leaves her vision and she's left in a haze, vaguely untethered to reality as she looks up and around, her eyes refocusing to take in her surroundings. Ibakaha was still standing over the boys and Eve stands unsteadily and stumbles towards them. Ibakha catches her around her waist before she falls and Eve presses a bloody kiss to her cheek in thanks before sliding down to her knees beside Sanson and Guydelot. She hadn't taken time to look at them before, not with any true attention, and now that she was, all she could see was the split and weeping skin of Guydelot's hand, bright white bone peeking through deep red in parts. Without a thought she focuses magic into his hands. It's a new job and she's far from experienced in healing and right now, she hates that. She should have picked up healing sooner, should know better, should have more practice-

But there's no time for that right now.

She asks Sanson for a list of injuries and he lists Guydelot's- his hands mostly, and potentially more if anything lingered from whatever fight he may have given before their capture- claiming himself to be fine. She eyes the bruising on his neck dubiously, but it's nothing urgent. If he can breathe and speak, there's likely nothing worrisome under it. Certainly nothing half so bad as Guydelot's hands, nothing so worrisome as the fact the man had passed out nearly the moment she began healing.

She's not sure how long she's focusing on it, inattentive to Sanson's babbling- was that an apology?- but she notices when Cynthia returns, empty-handed, an angry fire in her eyes about prey having slipped through her claws. "We'll find him," Cynthia promises Sanson and Eve nods. She wouldn’t rest well until Fenumin was captured. Preferably by her hands.

[ythealleycat]

ABOUT Nhe'a

The Basics <><><>

Age: unknown. No documentation, only vague rage.

Birthday: currently at five options

Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te

Gender: no (he/him)

Sexuality: greyromantic asexual

Marital Status: taken

Server: Balmung (Crystal)

Physical Appearance <><><>

Hair: ashen, dyed blue at the tips

Eyes: yellow-green

Height: 183cm (a little over 6 fulms), a very long cat

Build: lanky, angular, noodle. Proportions ever so slightly too long; enough to seem off, but not immediately obvious. Has started building some muscle after becoming a Dark Knight, but is still mostly a squishy mage.

Distinguishing Marks: facial markings of both male and female adult miqo'te. Lynx brushes. Scarred hands. Doodles on his arms and legs like an overenthusiastic toddler first discovering sharpies - but with more skill.

Common Accessories: ring worn as necklace on a darksteel chain (heavy two-tone band, recovered from deep within Syrcus Tower; conducts aether, but doesn't seem to do anything)

Personal <><><>

Profession: used to work as a customs clerk with the Arcanists' Guild at Mealvaan's Gate in Limsa Lominsa - which went about as well as could be expected from an angry teenager. Nevertheless, he was diligent, reliable, and too invested in continuing his Arcanima training to really act up. Has since moved on to full-time adventuring for a living, which mostly means odd jobs, but had also lead him to participate in the NOAH survey as a test subject for Allagan summoning.

Hobbies: vaguely obsessed with the Allagan Empire, and swamp dragons. Is a self-taught alchemist, and will make up new and exciting substances to test on himself for...""""science"""" (read: "no other reason than that he can") if sufficiently bored and left unsupervised. Has poisoned himself many times, with varying degrees of severity. Knows botany, and is enlisted with the Botanists' Guild. Low-key fantasizes about having a garden.

Languages: Common Eorzean, Huntspeak, some sign language

Voice and Speech: having spent his formative years in the Lominsan bureaucracy dealing with pirates and other sea-faring folk, his mode of speaking is typically standard Common, but he sometimes slips into this weird mix of harbour Lominsan and backwoods Gridanian accents. His """"scientific experiments"""" left him with scarring in his throat, which limits him to low speaking volumes, and makes regular speech quite taxing.

Residence: a house in the Mist

Birthplace: somewhere in South Shroud

Religion: no

Patron Deity: Menphina, The Lover, being the goddes of the moon, is said to protect all Keepers. Nhe'a is too out of touch with Keeper culture to have an opinion one way or another.

Fears: This boy is so thoroughly marinated in casual existential dread that he isn't really sure what fear is. Sure, he's been afraid before, but all of his worst nightmares have come and gone, and the world didn't even notice, and he's still alive. He thinks. Probably. What is real anyway? Please tell him, he needs to know. On the mundane side of things, oversized arthropods such as Yarzons and Gazelle Hawks toss his Murder With Fire instinct into overdrive.

Relationships <><><>

Partner: Sonja Rysti (@crafting-illusions-ffxiv)

Children: none

Parents: unknown

Siblings: Vila and Asher Tadmhe (@twin-moons-ffxiv)

Other Relatives: unknown

Pets: Vee, a Yafaemi swamp dragon - which, despite the name, are entirely unrelated to True Dragons (the brood of Midgardsormr), but are instead an example of convergent evolution native to Hydaelyn. Swamp dragons are, in essence, simple winged lizards with the temperament of a cat, and do ungrandiose things such as chewing on shoes, getting stuck between furniture, and exploding if they're unlucky.

Traits <><><>

Extroverted / In-between / Introverted

Disorganized / In-between / Organized [He knows where everything is. He swears.]

Close-minded / In-between / Open-minded

Calm / In-between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In-between / Agreeable

Cautious / In-between / Reckless [Hopelessly reckless concerning his own safety and well-being. Otherwise careful and overprepared.]

Patient / In-between / Impatient

Outspoken / In-between / Reserved

Leader / In-between / Follower [Prefers being neither.]

Empathetic / In-between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In-between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In-between / Modern

Hard-working / In-between / Lazy [Not so much "hard-working" as "terminally responsible".]

Cultured / In-between / Uncultured [Has adopted some posh aesthetics and mannerisms, but never had anybody to teach him, so he's really just half-assing it.]

Loyal / In-between / Disloyal

Faithful / In-between / Unfaithful

Additional Information <><><>

Smoking Habit: no

Drugs: if ethers and """"science"""" count

Alcohol: no

RP Hooks <><><>

Coeurl Ink. Following his research on aetherconductive ink and tattoo arrays, Nhe'a has established a laboratory, where he offers his services as a tattoo artist and alchemist.

Odd jobber for hire. Need something found? Need something lost? Need a bodyguard? Need something murdered? Rare plants? Potions? Uncanny relics you wish you hadn't dug up after all? Give Nhe'a a call.

Those bloody Allagans. Are you a Summoner? Been involved with the Sons Of Saint Coinach? Maybe you live in Mor Dhona, and Syrcus Tower is figuratively or literally your back yard? Know anything of tomestones? A Garlean scientist researching Allagan magitek? Nhe'a obsessively seeks out anything Allagan, and will gladly listen to anything you might have to share. Particularly, perhaps you can help him figure out what that ring of his is.

Of Heretics and Dragons. Are you from Coerthas or Dravania? A heretic, by chance? Don't worry, Nhe'a won't tell. All he wants is for folks to stop harassing his pet dragon, and if threatening said folks with a Very Large Sword is what it takes, so be it. (He might also be involved in a shady school of magic, but who's keeping count anyway, right?)

Associated with Thaliak's Codex (@thaliakscodex).

OOC <><><>

I'm Y, </checks smudged writing on hand> 21+. GMT+2. Am nocturnal, and work a wonky schedule, so peak activity is typically evenings and nights on my time.

Dark and mature themes welcome as long as you are 18+ OOC, but let's talk about it first.

Contact Information: in-game (Nhe'a Koh), Tumblr (here), Discord (upon request).

Near exclusively in-game RPer.

[desertdragon]

FFXIV Character Sheet

Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: no one Tagging: open!

Name: (full, nickname/s) Vaste Valescoere (self given) | U’ralhana Odh/Osha Tayuun (birth names) Age: 22 Pronouns: She/Her & He/Him Birthdate: May 8th | 8th Sun of the Third Astral Moon

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~ Race: (Hyur (Midlander or Highlander? Ala Mhigan refugee or born in Eorzea/Doma/other city?), Elezen (Wildwood or Duskwight? Shroud-born or Ishgardian?), Miqo'te (Sun Seeker or Moon Keeper? Both What tribe/family name? U Tribe + Tayuun clan), Lalafell (Plainsfolk or Dunesfolk? Mercantile, farmer or mogul?), Roegadyn (Hellsguard or Sea wolf?), Au Ra (Xaela or Raen? What steppe tribe? From the sea or a family of service?), Viera (Veena or Rava), Hrothgar (Hellions or The Lost))

From the First: (Hume, Elf, Mystel, Dwarf (Tomra or Komra?), Galdjent, Drahn, Viis, Ronso)

Interracial heritage: (Do they have any traits from either side that are more pronounced?) 

She is an almost dead ringer for her mother with Moon Keeper-like fangs, same bright hair/eye color, same fair skin, etc. which are more endemic to Moon Keepers as a whole; the rest of her is akin to her father and Sun Seeker traits such as slit pupils, sharper eye shape, builds muscle easier etc. 

Hometown/city: (From a city or an outlying town?) 

Forgotten Springs, Southern Thanalan, the traditional home of the U Tribe for centuries as masters of the Sagolii Desert once their ancestors crossed to Eorzea millennia ago

Current residence/popular haunt: Shirogane/The Goblet/Limsa Lominsa & the greater La Noscea area, especially the ‘Star Dancer’ tavern with friends, the Calderon Family Apartments in Ul'Dah have also been semi taken over as a crash pad for her and her friends too (Weyd doesn't mind as long as no one disturbs her Research Time)

~~APPEARANCE~~ Eyes: brown | blue | green | gold | red | purple | multicoloured | other (…)

Hair: brunette | black | blonde | red (ginger or crimson?) | grey/white (aged or natural?) | multicoloured | none | other (blue + black)

Hair type: straight | curly | ringlets | wavy | wiry | frizzy | voluminous | thin | other (…)

Hair style: (In-game style? Mod? Unachievable with either?)

It's an in game style because my dying $300 flat laptop goes into cardiac arrest if I play even games that can fit on a PS Vita/iOS like my Danganronpa trilogy collection, I've tried XIV mod programs only for them to literally shut down my computer at the system requirements so I'm forced to use in game resources

This is fine though because I've loved her current hair for 4 years it's very Her and I have HCs

Body type: beefy | curvaceous | fat | lean | muscular | petite | skinny | stocky | other (…)

Height: short | tall | specific measurement (5′2 | 157 cm)

Skin: ashen | caucasian | dark | fair | freckled | olive | tanned | other

Facial features: birthmark | beard | face paint | fur | scales | scars (nose bridge) | tattoos (huntress marks) | other (…)

Body features: birthmark | beard | ears (anything unique about them) | face paint | fur (her ears + tail) | missing limb/s | scales | scars | tail | tattoos | other (…)

Favourite/commonly used clothes (In-game clothes? Mods? Include pictures if desired, keep it to simple profiles)

Screenshot tag my beloved

~~SKILLS~~ DoL/DoH Botanist | Fisher | Miner | Alchemist | Armourer | Blacksmith | Carpenter | Culinarian | Goldsmith | Leatherworker | Weaver fun | profit | self-sustainability

~~COMBAT~~ Main discipline Gladiator/Paladin | Marauder/Warrior | Dark Knight | Gunbreaker | Astrologian | Conjurer/White Mage | Arcanist/Scholar/Summoner | Thaumaturge/Black Mage | Blue Mage | Red Mage | Pugilist/Monk | Lancer/Dragoon | Rogue/Ninja | Samurai | Archer/Bard | Machinist | Dancer

Secondary/Tertiary/Extra Classes Gladiator/Paladin | Marauder/Warrior | Dark Knight | Gunbreaker | Astrologian | Conjurer/White Mage | Arcanist/Scholar/Summoner | Thaumaturge/Black Mage | Blue Mage | Red Mage | Pugilist/Monk | Lancer/Dragoon | Rogue/Ninja | Samurai | Archer/Bard | Machinist | Dancer

Fighting style aggressive | cautious | hard-and-fast | tactical | defensive | protective | all out | wait-and-see | charge in headlong | reckless | self-sacrificing | party-oriented | loner |

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines? (Are they physically too weak to engage in close combat, or just rich in magical talent? etc)

She is awkward with magic having not relied on it or used it during childhood to adolescence so she is very hands on; her magical ability exists but is limited in practice with success only taking to the Astrologian arts after extensive training and some success using her natural aether as aura-like defense if consciously concentrated 

~~PERSONALITY TRAITS~~ abrasive | abusive | accepting | aggressive | analytical | anxious | arrogant | assertive | brave | bossy | calm | caring | cautious | cheerful | chronic liar | confident | controlling | cowardly | creative/inventive | cunning | curious | determined | disinterested | envious | fearless | frosty | frugal | generous | greedy | gullible | honest | humorous | impatient | impulsive | indifferent | insecure | intelligent | irresponsible | jealous | just | kind | loyal | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | meek | modest | money-driven | naïve | narcissistic | oblivious | overbearing | patient | passive | perceptive | possessive | prickly | quiet | relaxed | religious | sarcastic | secretive | self-assured | self-conscious | self-deprecating | selfish | selfless | spiritual | strict | stubborn | tired | thoughtful | unpredictable | virtuous | vocal | wary | wise | other

~~LIKES~~ Environment: forest | city streets | markets | the beach | open sea/on the water | mountains | jungle | battlefield | being at home | surrounded by books | other (open fields, plains, deserts)

Weather: wind | snow | rain | sunshine | storms | cloudy days

Flavours: sweet | salty | sour | bitter | spicy | tart | gamey | spiced | fruity | nutty | leafy greens | other (everything but bitter + tart)

Textures: silk | velvet | cotton | metal | leather | water | spongy | dry granules (sand, sugar, etc) | other (…)

Favourite Dish: (in game meals or not) Everything not bitter or tart | softest of soft spots for Sour Pork Belly Stew Favourite Colour: Orange Favourite Sound: Her friends voices Favourite Smell: Food is one of them, girl can eat Favourite Place: With loved ones Favourite Holiday: Moonfire Faire

Other: (Personality traits in other people, etc)

Kindness, sensitivity, thoughtfulness, goal driven, independent thinker, willful, courageous, truthful

~~DISLIKES~~ Environment: forest | city streets | markets | the beach | open sea/on the water | mountains | jungle | battlefield | being at home | surrounded by books | other (cold/freezing places, formal meeting halls, eerie and desolate places devoid of life)

Weather: wind | snow (the coldness of snow) | rain | sunshine | storms | cloudy days

Flavours: sweet | salty | sour | bitter | spicy | tart | gamey | spiced | fruity | nutty | leafy greens | other

Textures: silk | velvet | cotton | metal | leather | water | spongy | dry granules (sand, sugar, etc) | other (…)

Least Favourite Dish: (in game meals or not) Anything bitter or tart though she can tolerate it if needed Least Favourite Colour: Bright Greens Least Favourite Sound: Scraping/The collective noise of crowds when she's teetering on a mental breakdown Least Favourite Smell: Something burning Least Favourite Place: Ishgard (she's threatened to kill every noble family, clergyman, and corrupt knight and she would if need be) Least Favourite Holiday: The Rising- just because it's more depressing than happy

Other: (Personality traits in other people, etc)

Dishonest, violent, manipulative, greedy, stubborn, humorless, thoughtless, excessive sarcasm, cowardly

~~HOBBIES~~ art (what medium/s?) | adventuring | cooking | fighting/sparring | finance | gardening | golden saucer attractions (Lord of Verminion, chocobo racing, Doman mahjong, triple triad) | hiking | hunting (game or hunt marks) | lacks hobbies (sort of- she has poor conception of hobbies nor had time to think of them for a while due to constant warring and campaigning with the Scions and in tribal life there wasn't much variety) | music | physical sports | reading (what kinds of things?) | running | scrapbooking | sewing/knitting/other needlework | sightseeing | socialising | swimming | training | writing | other (…)

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~ Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother (absent, alive) | father (disowned, alive) | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other

Siblings: (How many? Older or younger?)

Over 12+ from both sides of family, she ranks among the middle average range

Children: At present none but 3 in the future within 5 years

Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated | other (…)

Friends: (do they surround themselves with many acquaintances and a few good friends, a few friends they trust deeply, or are they lacking for true friendships? Who are their notable best/closest friends?)

She went from figuratively losing family (really really close with a sister and brother especially) to no friends to suddenly a whole group of people who look at her for who she is and for the first time put the idea in her head that she's good and valuable just for being herself and it was a huge shock to be perceived that way; she's tightest with her core group of six but that foundation is what gave her the confidence to start seeking out friends beyond them and to be more social again

Rivals/Enemies: (How? Were they once a friend? Are they The Nemesis? Someone that can never be forgiven? Who holds the grudge, or is it mutual?)

She despises the Scions for using her as a tool of war and robbing her sense of humanity in how she viewed herself and the world, they dehumanized and spiritually debased her for so long in all manner of ways physical and mental by pedestaling and lionizing her for both killing and strict service to them that even with the good feats she accomplished working for them it still feels dirty to reflect on because of how horrible she felt, was treated, and the atrocities she committed and saw others commit, how they took advantage of her naïveté after becoming Hydaelyn's champion and of her selflessness (I am not a fan of Clean Military myths especially given my History background- it harms and is a form of propaganda therefore I write any militaries as never being blameless, for XIV this goes for Garleans & Alliance but also any regimented fighting force)

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life? (Sharing food, inside jokes, etc)

If she's willing to be touchy with you, give gifts, chime in instead of predominantly listening etc. then she likes you a lot, she's absolutely one to share food and have inside jokes and to remember things about you without asking or even announcing it like preferences or health needs and care, even bathing with others which is something she was used to during her tribal years- this is important to me given how PTSD has eroded her ability for memory so when she makes an effort to recall information out of love...broe 🥺

~~HAVE DEALT WITH/IS DEALING WITH~~ abuse (ongoing or recovering, verbal or physical) | acceptance | a new relationship (unlikely friendship, step-sibling/parent, etc) | a new romance | betrayal | broken heart | budgeting | bullying | caution | confidence | crisis of faith | depression | grief | health issues | how to trust | learning from a mistake | loss | love | new people | new place | opening up to someone/others | parenthood | physical changes (loss of a limb or other sense, inability to do things previously able to) Getting used to a godlike body and constant death rewriting how she perceives bodily pain was Terrifying | politics | PTSD | poverty | racism | reconciling previously held beliefs | responsibility | sacrifice (self or of another) | self-acceptance | self-esteem | to value myself | to value others | trauma (medical, mental, emotional) | war | wealth | other (…)

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their in day-to-day life, if at all? (Therapy, confiding in a trusted friend, avoidance, denial?)

At first not at all, she internalized every trauma, grievance, dislike, even general thoughts because no one post becoming WoL cared to hear anything she actually had to say or how she felt if it wasn't surface level commentary/agreement on what they wanted from her thus she went from talkative to largely silent whenever she wasn't alone because nothing she said was paid attention to so she may as well do nothing too, she was and sometimes still is very good at being ignored

This has changed after meeting her friends who make up the Guardians of Time and the shift itself had started once she and Yugiri developed feelings for each other then got together, but one person alone can't shift Vaste's entire perspective- her friends shes made even after the GoT all help her understand that she is mentally ill and she can be ok and she can take back her life and have a voice, it gives her perspective on the grander world too because she finally has a life to live and goals and responsibilities not dictated for her, she can be introspective in a positive way for once (alongside Weyd financing what little Eorzea has in way of what we'd consider therapy for her as she's done with Lewena)

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~ Notable Weapons (Any special bond with a weapon?)

Her spear Long Fang/Izinyo Elide (Zulu speakers feel free to correct my grammar as always) has remained since she trained at the Lancer's Guild in Gridania; it is exceptionally worn and used so thoroughly in single engagements that at times it's become a pole of red and gore, she used to glamour it over the better spears that later came into her hands but eventually preferred it so much as a symbol of her few days of restarted life before becoming WoL that she maintains and continues to use it

It's doubly significant as a marker of post tribal but pre WoL life since her original tribal spear carved of wood and Sundrake scale gave out when she reached the comparatively freezing Shroud and Coerthas area from hot and dry Thanalan and snapped under the new weather during her first winter in Gridania

She received Long Fang shortly after and committed to it as she did the resolve to live on her own before it all went south

Notable Mounts (Company Chocobo/Black Chocobo or maybe an EX horse/bird/dog/dragon? Do they have a name? Is there a story behind their meeting? Favourite treat? Affectionate or wary of strangers? What kind of combat style if company chocobo? Did they go to the First with their rider?)

Her company chocobo Alba is a light in her life always there to keep her company and putting up with her taking him every which way and back in exchange for love, treats (he loves carrots and apples and sugar cubes) and care- I imagine if he could talk she and him would have an Ardbert & Seto relationship, they took to each other like peas in a pod and can sense when either is in distress or their mood changes which is also helpful during riding because she can sense what's wrong around them faster by reading his movements and vibes, however while he is bound to her and curious of strangers he won't take to people as easily as she does but rather needs to get acclimated to new people one at a time, he dislikes being crowded and overwhelmed with new scents, faces, voices etc. bothering him if he's not in Riding Mode (HC him curling his big chocobo neck on her shoulder if she's sad or he wants to rest and she scratches his feathers)

There's also Ikhoza her wolf familiar mount gained after vanquishing Lakshmi that she loves riding because he makes her feel powerful and free with his appearance and feel soaring through the sky or blitzing past on flat terrain or over hills, she's not sure what spirit dogs eat but she's tried feeding him jerky before and it seemed to work, he is very fluffy and she may summon him to fall asleep on if she's not pressed in his softness while riding, she took Yugiri on a joyride with him once before she'd confessed her feelings and it was possibly the gayest sky ride anyone's ever been on in all of Hydaelyn, being bonded to her his flames don't burn her either nor anyone she wants to make an exception for

Notable Minion/s (Do they take this minion everywhere, or are they safely kept at home or an inn room? Any story behind them?)

Nothing in character wise but I do have my Dress-Up Yugiri out at all times in game because:

Keepsakes/Mementos (Akin to the Fortemps Shield. Anything particularly special they hold on to at all times?)

See this post for more on that at this time

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities (arthritis, asthma, bronchitis, scoliosis, celiac, allergies or intolerances, any vision or hearing impairments, etc)

PTSD qualifies as a disability in my state at least and since I have it IRL I agree with the sentiment, it's genuinely awful; I've covered it before to an extent in a combat Hc meme I did but Vaste's symptoms effect her ability to remember events and information correctly or at all especially if she disassociated during the event, she feels emotionally numb when overwhelmed easier, she can be prone to mental breakdowns during stress and anxiety amplified by crowds, the sounds of many people talking/shouting/yelling at once, startle response from loud noises or unexpected touching, hyper vigilance impacting her sleep and leaving her more open to paranoia, flashbacks, riskier behavior without regard for safety etc.

She is also prone to disassociating during moments of stress be they big or small but especially during battle due to the extreme anxiety inducing environment which has at times even caused her to snap into one of her panic attacks and flee in desperation while feeling she Needs to claw out of her own skin to get to safety- this can also happen outside of combat if the situation goes wrong enough, her voice is also more monotone than the average persons further due to the damage PTSD has on the brain (there was a recent study exploring if voice recognition tech can be used to identify PTSD in war veterans | it was able to detect mental illness in patients vocal patterns and speech with 89% effectiveness from the sample pool) which makes emoting a bit difficult at times though not impossible

How do they deal with these? (Prosthetic leg? Helper familiar, like a seeing-eye dog or a purpose built mammet? Three spare sets of glasses because they know they’ll break one before the week is through?)

One of her coping techniques is to stop either physically or try stopping her train of thought, breathe in and count each second, fixate positive thoughts or desires in her mind and concentrate until the bad feeling ceases or lessens- having a familiar sensation or person close by also helps deescalate which is one of the reasons I decided Yugiri would probably give her an Ojuzu to wear on her wrist or anywhere she wants expressly to be used as an anchor point and be associated with good memories

Other methods include seeking out her friends and spending time with them doing anything, confiding in them about what happened this time and how she feels but not always, sometimes it's good enough to be with loved ones, other times sleep or writing out how she feels also help as does shopping as well as countering her negative thoughts and self perceptions with remembering positive qualities about herself and trying to pull away from self deprecation

Education Level (Did they go to an academy? Did they decide to specialize in something? Did they even ever go to school at all?)

Her first time at a formal school happened upon arriving in New Gridania once she choose to learn Eorzean Common properly and how to read and write their system (largely thanks to Mother Miounne's connections and help) then later she advanced to the local Lancer's Guild to expand her martial skills already built from her huntress days; the experience changed her life beyond leading to becoming WoL, it introduced new moral problems to navigate and taught her further the value of patience and diligence and the fact that no one in life can predict anything- just be prepared for whatever comes as best you can

She deeply respects her LNC/DRG teachers and those friends she's made through the art

Before this her education was practical and based in survival but also free form in the way only street smarts can truly be and without any shackles formalized education systems will impose on thinking and rationalizing, which has proved to benefit her in understanding things she can't touch

She's a fast learner but even better she Likes to seek out learning, and she's certainly not stupid (she's reckless, that's it's own kind of stupid but it's often willingly) just because she was raised a different way from most people and while she might not be able to calculate taxes or do heavy science like whatever the most elite rich schools might teach, she's no less sharp and hates being perceived as lesser for this background

She's also an accomplished student of Head Chef Lyngsath over at The Bismarck in Limsa; he was the first to teach her modern Eorzean cooking along with his staff and she remains emotionally indebted to them and will do favors (like filling in as a server girl) or pay them visits, either on business or for pleasure, they have her back and she has theirs- winning them over as a whelp of a newcomer was its own amusing challenge too that furthered her understanding of Limsan life

The same is true for life lessons the Fisherman's Guild gave her and she's friends with Wawalago and Sisipu, often visiting them and fellow guild members to discuss everything from catches and techniques to small talk to dilemmas and feelings (not counting her friends in the Maelstrom- she knows a lot of people from all backgrounds and learns from every one)

Im trying so hard not to ramble more about her AST training and Leveva Bryde's group because omg was that also a formative experience that helped renew her belief in humanity but I will expand it in its own HC meta

Habits (Do they leave their windows open, leave a little bit at the bottom of every glass, scrape their plate clean, are they superstitious? etc)

She enjoys walks (and riding Alba!) especially to help clear her head and can be found wandering about much to the awe of any who recognize her for what she is, doubly so if she ends up playing Triple Triad with someone (and gambling on said Triple Triad game)

Often times wherever she's fished she'll leave a mark on a nearby stone if the spot had exceptional catches leaving those who come after her to wonder who's the stranger aiding them when they'll likely never meet

When it comes to food she will always clean her plate, in fact to see her not do so or worse yet not touch her food is a clear sign she's unwell be it mentally or physically

Speaking of plates she will often wash the dishes or offer to help clean up after a meal because it's polite! By the same standard she does her best to thank the store clerks whenever she buys something or gets a service done out of courtesy ingrained from childhood

She is very clean and keeps up on hygiene, another instilled habit from childhood due to U Tribe culture; so much so that again to see her neglect it is a sign she's unwell and she feels so icky during months of hard travel causing times she's just unable to clean or bathe as much as she'd like- it drives her nuts (but also she isn't shy about bathing/soaking together with friends or Yugiri or in general, she saw the similarities to her tribe's oasis bathing culture and the hot spring culture of Hinganshi/Doma and fit right in)

There's more but I'm drawing a blank right now lol

Other (Anything else notable about your character not taken into account prior!)

Her smile's so pretty omg why is she so pretty

Here she is doing a funny little dance!!

[yokasaris]

Prompt #5- Vault

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Hosted by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast "How did you even get in here?" Kas held a finger to her lips as she brushed her other hand against a door opposite the laboratory entrance. Magical wards shimmered to life at her touch and she chuckled. "Oh, they think they've a clever mage..." The lab's locked door had presented no challenge to his sister, and Zhan'a doubted the aetherically sealed vault before her would fare much better. In hindsight, giving her a tour of the research wing earlier in the day probably hadn't been his best course of action. No matter. As long as no one found out, there was nothing to worry about. But, first... The miqo'te grabbed a book from the nearest table. Wouldn't do to return without it. "What's this?" Kas snatched the book from his hands, flipping through the worn pages with interest. She easily sidestepped his attempts to retrieve the tome until a certain page gave her pause. "Research notes? Interestin'..." Zhan'a wrested the book away with a growl, but noted the shift in his sister's demeanor. "Don't get any ideas. It's none of our business. I have to get this to Bethan, so I'll distract everyone long enough for you to get out of here, all right?" "Ha." Her gaze drifted back to the sealed door. "No ideas. Got it. You better get-" With the twitch of an ear, she swung around, fangs bared toward the entrance. "Someone's co-" Luckily, Zhan'a was able to shove her under the table before a figure stepped in from the hall. He held up the tome with a grin. "I found it!" Bethan narrowed her eyes at him. "If I'd known you were going to take this long, I would have come back myself. Why are you talking to yourself in a dark room?" "Oh, well, you know me. I just love the sound of my own voice." The highlander stared, unimpressed, before heaving a sigh. However, she allowed a smile, which for a brief moment eased the weariness in her features. "Isn't that the truth. Come on, I'm dead on my feet, and I want to have at least one bell of sleep tonight." She turned on heel and disappeared. After a beat, Kas snickered, tugging at his alchemist's coat from under the table. "Lucky ya got a full skirt to hide behind." "Stop that, it was a gift." Zhan'a smacked her in the face with the hem of his coat before hopping out of reach. "This is going to be your chance to get out, hear? Now, scram and don't show your face around here again, got it?" She grinned. "I got it. Promise."

[toadeyes-miqote]

Eden Ramuh trial PTSD intensifies

"Levin strikes!!!! NYAAAAAAA!!!!! No one tell Tataru that DOH quests on the First comes with its own dangers. You hear!!!!"

An earlier point in time

On one hand I would wonder if Skip either sense me as the Warrior of Darkness or that its just association with Seto as if Seto left a mark that I'm okay maybe not at Ardbert's level of okay but decent enough? Or maybe it a Fae thing being the King's Sapling?

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

Bonus

[sliptohk]

Prompt#27: Palaver

"You look to be a woman of high tastes, my good miqo'te, so high I would wager most things scurry past unnoticed! Just little ants, well below your lofty standards! But I have something that even you need look up for! Behold, the mechanical star - a marvel of Ul'dah engineering - for those dark nights when you find yourself wondering, 'I sure wish the sun were still up!' Yes, yes, I hear those words starting to eagerly bunch up on the tip of your tongue, of course you pine for just such a device! Who wouldn't? I've heard tell that this is one of a mere handful attempted by a reknowned alchemist and the only one that served its function properly! The others were said to have simply ignited into a grand pillar of light and heat incinerating the poor craftsman where he sat! A sad tale for certain, but that simply means you will own something that none other have crafted before or since! Ah, I see that half-step away, surely you know that such a priceless, timeless creation will one day become the thing of myth and legend, how could you hope to afford such a thing? Well before he died, that is before his total incineration, he said to me personally, 'Tahma, my dearest friend, someday I wish to see my stars gracing the home of every resident of this fine city!' We were good friends, you know, the goodest. Best! And how could I deny his final wish, even if he never knew that it would be his last? Why that would make me a scoundrel! And I am not that, simply a businesswoman looking to ensure that at least one part of his legacy will help light the night of at least one other! Say, for the price of a mere two hundred gil?"

The white-haired Seeker leaned closer to the other woman, her brown complexion warm in the light of the early morning. A hint of a grin on the corners of her lips, concocting a sad tale and mixing it with a dying man's earnest wish had a way of appealing to a good number of travelers within the city! Holding that poorly made sunsphere in her hand, she waggled it toward her would-be mark.

~~~

Fen opened her mouth several times, the grey-skinned Keeper failing to get a word in edgewise as this street vagrant simply rolled onward with some sort of nonsensical story that she had less than an onze of interest in. When words failed, she turned to leave only to be cut short once more when that almost painfully thin girl leapt forward with words still spilling from her mouth! With a low growl at the back of her throat, she pressed her fingers to the goggles across her face and pulled them up at an angle to unveil the rounded-pupil of her left eye. If the elongated canines in her mouth failed to register for the ever-running mouth of the child, then perhaps the tell-tale sign of her eyes would.

"Menphina's ever-loving patience, why would I have any interest in a miniature star."

Freshly arrived and still clad in her hunter's clothes, the inventor knew full well she looked nothing like a woman of class or sophistication, much less means! Not that this seemed to register on the waif, much less the fact that she was quite clearly one of the moon's chosen! She barely even took a moment to breathe before launching into a further explanation of just why Fen would be interested in a device that could do nothing but make her sensitive eyes ache and water.

Why had she come here again?

[themythrilhusk]

The Rebuke (Prompt 13: Wax)

The sounds of unsatisfied buzzards mingled with the toll of the bell. Once, twice, nine times it rang out, signalling the end of another day in the desert of Thanalan. Cactuar scuttled their way into their community huddle to prepare for the usual dropping temperatures, the Qiqirn retreated into their tents, and people the region over followed suit. Such was true even in the gated neighborhood known as "The Goblet"- while not every home would be filled tonight, (adventurers had such a curious habit of spending inordinate amounts of money on the plots just to sleep in the Quicksand, if not outright camp out in the wilderness rather than return from their journeys) the streets were still filled with quite a number of people. All races and creeds, dressed in such a manner that a more common outsider might wonder if they were all trying to outdo each other in terms of eccentricity. As neighbors, they all greeted each other with warmth and bid goodnights here and there... sans one.

Y'ahd Tia clattered and clanked down through the Heart of the Goblet as he manifested in front of the Aetheryte, ignoring those around him. The day had been an especially long one for the Paladin, and it was evident on his metal skin. The Storm Blue armor he took such lengths to preserve was coated in a layer of dirt, dented and outright broken in some rather uncomfortable looking regions. An employer had bid him into the Kobold's deepest territory (quite literally, in this case) of U'Ghamaro; watching over the alchemist as he hunted for rare materials for some elixir or other had proven to be quite the workout. The denizens of the Mine were about as happy to see him as he was they, the only difference was that he was alive to grumble about it hours later. Still, the hefty presence of the sack of Gil in his hand had made it all worth it. Repairs to his gear could be made, his holdings wouldn't be seized, and... The armor found his thought process interrupted, realizing a second too late that he had passed the stone fence securing the border of his own home. Y'ahd turned and made his way back, staring up at the house he had claimed as his own. "And my employees won't revolt for at least another month.", he finished out loud. With that, the Miqo'te pushed open the door and into his home.

Calling it a home was only partially the truth. The Ul'dahn, Gridanian, and Lominsan governments were a shrewd sort: they only built these neighborhoods as a way to try and entrap the adventurers who roamed their lands. It wasn't a bad plan, really. Beyond forcing them to enlist in their respective armies to even be eligible for property, the hope was that by owning a piece of the City-State, the adventurers would feel compelled to actually fulfill their obligations to the military and want to protect their homes. It did come with a rather stifling limit of one house per adventurer, however. As such, Y'ahd Tia had to divide his parcel of land into both an office and a living space. The first floor that greeted him was the reception area; cut down the middle between a waiting area (one of his staff members stood at the ready next to a table with a kettle of tea, and gave him a bright smile he was almost entirely certain was fake), and a trophy display. Various skulls and stuffed heads of impressive looking beasts hung on the walls, along with a full stuffed Gagana. At either side of it stood mannequins clad in older versions of his armor: a decidedly drab, basic set of plate armor that boasted blue paint (Woad, to be precise) rather than a dip-dye procedure in the forming of it, like his current gear. A prominent rip across the torso certainly implied what led to the retiring of this armor. The second was more advanced; a full set of the Ironwork's finest. Like his current gear, it glinted a proud Storm Blue... at least, where what little metal was apparent on it. The main chestpiece was a thick, deep-dyed leathery doublet rather than proper metal armor. Y'ahd remembered the relief he felt when such gear had gone out of style.

He never truly felt it was trustworthy.

The Paladin turned his attention away from his armor's predecessors, helmet turning fully to regard the squat table all the way across the room. Settled below a massive, handsome painting of the Sultana and her former General, flanked at either side with a banner featuring the Ul'dahn sigil, stood the head of this reception area: his secretary, Colala Cocola. She didn't seem to have registered his arrival, her head buried in a book, bobbing her head in time with the drinking apkallu on her desk. As such, when the Paladin snapped her book shut in front of her face, she let out an indignant yelp- scowling up at the perpetrator before realizing who he was, face paling. "I should hope you have not greeted any visitors with such inattentiveness.", the armor spoke, an icy tone in his voice. "Have we any business? Do you know?" was the follow-up. Colala flustered but a moment before retrieving a letter off the desk and presenting it to him. "No walk-ins today I'm afraid, but this was in the mailbox Master Tia!", she squeaked. Taking the envelope, Y'ahd grunted as he took the Gil sack in his hand, produced two more, and poured a modest amount into them. "Very well. Take your earnings and be on your way for today, then. Lock the door behind you." he commanded, already on his way to the stairs below. He didn't give his staff a second glance.

The hallway at the bottom of the stairs was narrow- while he could move comfortably, even in his plate, he would feel quite cramped if he had to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with another individual of the same size. A Roegadyn would definitely complain. Various paintings were mounted on either side of the walls, carefully spaced out so that one could appreciate them fully before moving on to the next. The hallway gave way to a door, and behind it was his personal office. The east and west walls of the room were covered fully by bookshelves, and of course, books. If he were being truthful, he had read perhaps a third of his library: most of the tomes were just for ambiance. Everything in Y'ahd's office had been purposefully designed as such. An atmosphere was carefully cultivated here, and he took some measure of pride in it. His desk, covered in maps and parchment and scales (for those who preferred to pay him in precious metals and gems rather than proper Gil) was a fair bit of a mess but implied he was a busy man. The chair he threw himself in was luxurious and comfortable, quite unlike the pair of simple wooden chairs on the other side of the desk. They had their backs to the fireplace across the room, radiating heat that would crawl up anyone's back. The lamp on his desk illuminated himself fairly dimly, casting the features of his helmet and armor into sharp relief. An oppressive air hung in this office in stark contrast to the bright, welcoming atmosphere of the room above- perfect for leaning on the desperation of those that sought him out, and wring more Gil out of them.

However, he was alone now. And as such (along with the task at hand), Y'ahd turned up the brightness of his table's lamp, dispelling the harsh shadows so that he could read without straining his eyes. Tearing open the envelope with a knife kept at his desk, the Miqo'te read out loud. "'Dear Master Tia.'" Already a disinterested tone was apparent in his voice. "'I hope this letter finds you well this day. It was with utmost condolences that I cannot meet you in person, but circumstances have forced my hand. I am a humble resident of the Silver Bazaar. Perhaps you've heard of this place; we used to be a bustling port, but times have grown lean these past years. We make an effort to improve our lot, but with the markets failing, there are those that would take advantage of the city's disinterest in our outpost and do us harm... and unfortunately, my family has come to be a victim of such ruffians.'" Y'ahd paused to pour a glass of orange juice between the slats of his full helmet. "By Oshcon, does this fellow meander. Alright... 'While our port sees little use these days, due to being too small for the larger fishing boats to make port, several days ago kidnappers docked and under cover of night, broke into my home and spirited away my daughter. What few guards we have cannot possibly be sent out to sea to hunt them down. I cannot give chase- i am no warrior, and I fear that without sufficient strength to subdue these fiends, they will do something drastic. Sir, I do not claim much in this world, but I have a modest savings of two thousand Gil that I would be willing to part with for the safe return of my beloved daughter. Warm regards, Hokotsu Totsu.'" At this, the armor seemed to perk up some- setting down the letter and producing a blank sheet to word his own reply. He wrote with a sense of urgency, before folding the paper up and slipping it into a new envelope. With a flourish, he stamped a wax seal to shut it. A handsome sigil, the Eorzean 'Y' was clearly visible in the blue-tinted wax. Satisfied, he briefly left the house to deposit the letter before heading off for bed.

Hokotsu Totsu's daughter did not return the next day. The only correspondence the Lalafell received was not a ransom note, but a curt letter featuring a single sentence: "You must be mad if you think I get out of bed for anything less than ten thousand gil."

[starswornoaths]

In the Pines

All she wanted was her family.

Or: Myrina wakes up alone, and this is a Very Bad Thing.

(side note if you want an extra dose of sad, here’s a song that reminded me of Serella’s childhood after their parents died.)

The first feeling that Myrina was conscious of was her torso feeling as though it had been set on fire.

She had thought to open her eyes but they would not obey her— not even after feeling the odd jostle or shift of movement around her that reignited the agony that had slashed itself across her shoulders, her chest, her abdomen. That she was being moved by vehicle became clearer to her but by whom or to where yet eluded her.

As she mentally negotiated with her eyelids to cooperate, she tested the rest of her limbs. Slowly, painfully, she flexed her every finger, her toes, and though the pain that raced back from the tip of her every appendage to her core was agony, it was also a relief: she yet possessed control of her body. Her worst fears had not yet been realized.

“Hey— hey, I think she’s waking up.” Called a voice, quietly but near where she lie. Her lips parted, though her throat had long since dried, and all she could manage was a raspy sigh. “Easy, easy,” the voice said again— a man’s voice, soft and trying to be comforting. “You took a thrashing back there, but it’s alright, we’ve got you.”

There was a glow— like the early morning sun’s light passing through the bedroom window, and the nostalgic, soothing rush of healing magic splashed across her torso. A chirurgeon, she thought, rapidly becoming more alert.

“Where—” she wheezed, feeling as though her lungs might explode from the effort of speech.

“Shh, shh,” the chirurgeon tried to quiet her. “It’ll be alright, miss.”

“My husband—” Myrina fought the urge to clutch at her side, even as her arm jerked to do so when the pain flared again. “My children—”

Because she needed to know. Even if she ultimately succumbed to her wounds, if she knew her family had made it, it would be fine. The agony of uncertainty threatened to be her ultimate doom. Her heart hammered against her battered ribs and breathing hurt but she clung to consciousness, desperate to know.

“You were the only one we found alive, miss.” The voice reluctantly said. He laid a hand on her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Though the sobs that wracked her body hurt it was nothing to the heartache; she had failed them. She was their spear, their shield, their arbiter of the Fury meant to protect them from harm because she had to be. Because Hanvesh was too injured, and her little ones were yet too little, and she had sworn to herself that she would keep them all under her protection.

And she had lost them.

“Rest now, miss.” The chirurgeon murmured, and she felt something softly pull at the back of her mind. A sleep spell, her mind distantly remembered from her days as a Dragoon. Her resistance, while valiant, was weak, and she felt herself slip into slumber. “We can talk more when you are better.”

Myrina fell asleep praying she would never wake.

So when she opened her eyes sometime later, blinking back the light filtering in through the cloth canopy ahead of her, she added not dying to the list of her failures. She just wanted her family. She just wanted to go home.

The flames that had licked at her every nerve ending had abated somewhat; movement was still agonizing but she could shuffle about without threat of losing consciousness and breathing was no longer a strain on her constitution, and she could consider that progress, miniscule as it was.

Gaining her bearings, she realized that she was in the back of a caravan— by nothing short of divine providence, a travelling healer and his alchemist husband had been making a trek through the Twelveswood on their way down into Thanalan and had passed through where her village had lie in rubble. In speaking with the healer, he explained that he and his husband had searched for more survivors, but had only found her with a pulse.

She provided him, in breathless desperation, a description of her family, of her little Uthen with silver-blonde hair and bright gray eyes and her little Ella with mismatched eyes and dark hair, and of her beloved Hanvesh, he would have long hair carefully groomed into dreadlocks and eyes blue as the sea.

The chirurgeon told her that though he had indeed seen her husband amongst the dead, he had not seen children of her description at all. Speaking with the alchemist, he confirmed that he had only seen her husband, but that he had passed some time before they had arrived. And that had been enough. As she laid there in silent mourning of her beloved she already began to assess how long it would take for the wounds to close; a few hours, perhaps, and they would be mended enough that she could make the journey back to the village. She would bleed, to be sure, and agony was a guarantee but it was kinder than not knowing where her children were.

She left at dawn the next day.

Dissuasion fell of deaf ears as Myrina had simply limped away clutching a walking stick she had found near where the caravan had been parked. They were still in Gridania, on the road that led to Thanalan were she to travel south. She pushed north: she knew this path.

This was the same road that had led her and her sweet Hanvesh to their final adventure together, the same road that he too had limped along to find them a proper place to call home. This road, with its sluggish winding path was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, and though it took more effort— and time— than she would have liked, she had managed to make it back to the ruins of her home by the time the afternoon sun hung high overhead.

“Halone have mercy on my little ones,” she whispered as she neared the edge of the village. “Guide them home to me. Don’t punish them for my sins. Not my babies.” She felt her throat tighten. “Was my husband not enough?”

She found her spear not far from where she had been flung before she had lost consciousness— still whole, miraculously. It felt heavy in her hand but still she clung to it, abandoning her walking stick to replace it with her favored weapon. Pressing on to the town square, her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

Though she was not near enough to see clearly, she could instantly tell which body was her husband.

He had died near the doorstep of their home, now in shambles and splinters and nothing but a distant memory of hearth and happiness. Lying on his back, his hand outstretched, as though he had been reaching for something at the last. She did not know whether it was better or worse that his eyes were not open. She knew even less what she was feeling other than overwhelming pressure threatening to crush her chest in.

Much as she might have wanted to sink down beside him and wait to join him, she continued her search of the area— anything that could point her in the direction of her children, some inkling as to where they had gone.

Myrina limped around neighbors, friends, loved ones that all lie where they had fallen, their bodies echoes of the horror that had been wrought upon them, unrecognizable from the trauma and blood. Shattered homes and the rubble they made littered the area, impeding her laborious search.

The devastation was too familiar for her to pretend to be fine, though too foreign enough to pretend this was Coerthas and the Dravanians had simply extracted another fine of lives and livelihood for the war effort. There was no fire, no smoke, no smell of burning flesh. Though death surrounded her all she could smell was the life of the forests around her, all she heard was birdsong. The Twelveswood got what it wanted in the end; even as she stood among the dead, the forest lived on with no trace of them or their loss. The wood did not care.

Myrina found nothing— it was as though they had vanished without a trace.

Just as she began to limp back to her husband’s body, her eyes spied a corpse she had not seen before: hiding in the remains of their house, there was a body of an adult she did not recognize, with an arrow protruding from their back.

Jarred from her anguish and fighting against the shock of hope that fueled her movements she made her way into the dilapidated home to more closely inspect the body. A miqo'te male lying face down on what had once been their living room floor— she recognized the leather armor he wore, even through the blood that had long since soaked it through: he had been of the Coeurlclaws.

Turning her eye to the arrow, she inspected the feathers for any significance to their color or their shape; perhaps it was a rival group, or a stray poacher’s arrow, or—

Myrina knew those feathers— Hanvesh had traded with a travelling clan Duskwight that moved through the Twelveswood. He had often commented to her that these arrows were of a particularly high quality, and he always readily traded some of his woodworking for a quiver full for hunting their game. The same Duskwight clan who had a little girl that liked to play with Serella and Uthengentle by the river often, whose family had become fairly close to theirs, insofar as their constant moving allowed them to be. They had come here? After the attack on the village, doubtless interrupting the Coeurlclaws from picking over the corpse of the village.

Now she had to try and divine whether the Coeurlclaws had gotten to her children and either took them or killed them...or whether the clan of Duskwight elezen had taken her babies in. That she did not find them among the dead was encouraging, but left too much unanswered for her to know. All this pain, all this anguish, and still she knew no more than she had before she came.

Her breathing ragged and her heart aching, she hobbled as well as her body allowed outside of the house’s remains. Scanning the forest surrounding the village and straining to hear anything other than the fauna around her she desperately searched for a sign that they were still in the area, that the Duskwight clan had simply taken her babies to safety and they were still close.

“Uthen!” She shouted. Her throat scratch and her body burned but she did not stop. “Ella!” She paused, straining to hear more than her echo and the rustle of the leaves. “Uthengentle!” She screamed. “Serella!” It felt as though her throat was being split open but still she screamed, “I’m here, little ones!”

The only answer she received was her own voice reverberating through the trees.

She continued to scream— her children’s names, screamed that she was there, that she needed to see them, that they were scaring her. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she collapsed beside her sweet, kind Hanvesh’s body. Then she screamed just to scream out her anguish. She sobbed into the earth that had dared to steal everything from them, she shrieked and shrieked and shrieked because her family had not deserved this. She howled because no, actually, the Twelveswood will not pretend her village did not exist. It did. And the wood robbed them of their life. She would remind them all day. She had nothing left to do.

Eventually, her voice left her, too, and she was left weeping beside her husband, her mind trying to figure out where to go after this around the sound of her heart breaking. For how could she find her babies? Who could she even ask- if they were alive, they were taken, and she had no real leads that the Wailers would be able to use- or even want to use, based on past experience. 

For all intents and purposes, she had lost her family all over again.

There was a hand on her back- soft, tentative. A voice speaking in her hear; the alchemist, the husband of the conjurer that had found her. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, miss.” He said. “We...we had wanted to come back, before your recovery. We wanted to give these people a proper burial.”

“Thank you,” she rasped. “That means much.”

“We’ll still see that they’re laid to rest,” he reassured her. 

She nodded, not knowing what else she could say. In the distance, somewhere beyond the village’s main square, she heard the conjurer saying a blessing- he must have already buried some of her neighbors.

“Have you other family you can reach out to?” The alchemist asked. “We might help, if you do-”

“None,” she whispered. 

Even if her brother was still alive or Ser Alberic would even recognize her, she was still a dead woman in Ishgard. She had no business there any longer. Hadn’t for over a decade at that point. No sense in haunting them, ghost of her former self as she was.

“If you have nowhere to go- we were heading home,” he began to offer, “to Tailfeather. It’s in Dravania, but-”

Tailfeather. If she had even a fraction of her heart left, she would have laughed in bitter nostalgia. Of all the places that she might find a chance at rebuilding from the shambles of the life she lost, it would be Ishgard’s easily forgotten Dravanian outpost. If there was ever anywhere that was not beneath the boughs of the Twelve that a lancer might easily blend in, it would be there.

“I...have some hunting skill as a lancer,” she answered distantly. She could keep her name- ‘Arcbane,’ meant nothing in those parts, and no one would care to ask so long as she earned her keep. “If it would help your outpost, I would offer you my lance.” 

“Outpost-? You know of Tailfeather?” The alchemist asked, surprised. 

“In passing,” she said, her hazy mind offering an easy cover, one she hadn’t needed to use in some years, “I was an adventurer, before I settled down.”

“Ahh,” he gave a nod, but even still she could not lift her gaze from her husband’s shoulder; she could not bring herself to lift her gaze higher, to look at his vacant face in detail. She chose to know him only as he was when he was alive. “Let us take care of the burials, then, and we can be on our way.” 

Myrina wanted to insist that she be the one to bury Hanvesh. She wanted to be the one to take him to the tree they had picked out, to bury him beneath the boughs he chose for himself. She wanted to be the one to carry him, to lay him to rest with a kiss to his forehead and a tearful smile but she knew her wounds would only open and add to her agony.

“There was a place my husband wanted to be buried,” she said quietly instead, shame filling her that she had to ask another to do what should have been her duty by right. “The great oak tree behind our house...” she drifted, craning her neck as much as she could to look behind the remains of their home.

When the alchemist followed her gaze he gave her a nod. “I see it- ‘tis a fine tree, miss.” He carefully laid a hand over hers and implored her with his eyes, “we’ll be respectful, I promise.”

She had no choice but to believe him, though he was kind enough to help her pick flowers from Hanvesh’s garden and lay them over his eyes. Her last kindness to him. She kissed the flowers over his closed eyes and waited in heavy silence in the humid, still air of the caravan while they did what she could not.

They were...kind, these two. It took hours and there was no promise of a reward but the conjurer and alchemist laid to rest the half dozen villagers that had yet remained unburied. They had helped her walk to Hanvesh’s grave- exactly as he had wanted it- and let her say her goodbyes. They were kinder still as they offered her a spot in their caravan to take her to Tailfeather. 

Her life had always been a cyclical routine of times of suffering and times of plenty. Of having a family and losing it again- though this is only her third go around the cycle of loss, she felt as though she had lived longer than she had. Too long, but she couldn’t end it now. Now she had to live for her family. For all those she had lost. No one else could live for them now but she, after all.

And so she let the caravan take her away from the life she had build toward the shadow of the life she had left behind.

[endwalkerlore]

Day One

Got through the Unlocking of the Tower of Zot - full spoilers

Hydaelyn mentions a promise made in another age, to be fulfilled when we truly understand what is at stake - a promise made to Azem? -what did Venat promise Azem?   Hydaelyn doesn't have to power to bring our minds to her any longer.

Forum factions Bibliotechs/teqs? - conservatives, want to remain isolated unnamed radical faction - Galuf, Louisoix - supported being more open however, forum vote to deny Eorzea assistance was unanimous of all 99 members

Alchemists in Radz-at-han are part of a different tradition than Ul'dah alchemists

Krile needs an "archon or two" to get access to more reading material - so she's NOT one?

Gleaners use an old currency - the gemstones are something older - a possible dividing point in history then?

Mischievous miqo'te mentions that a "Big Moony" would help her - was "so tall and smart."  Oh... now I made myself sad -she told the girl stories about a powerful wizard friend who could summon his own carbuncle - that's Urianger there.

Albright Manor: lord is a master astrologian, wanted a book on Ishgardian Astromancy by Janniquard

The Ecclesia was the democracy that existd prior to the Forum, elected Thaliak as patron

Thaliak is depicted as an elezen

Pathless Way - the archon "graduation ceremony."  Secret path inside the statue of Thaliak

Babbling book lover has been corresponding with a "Far Eastern contact" who swore by "Into the Yonder" (Honoroit's book).  Suigetsu?

Nyunkrepf was a student of astrology - divined the flood. -teleportation spell landed the ship in Abalathia's spine -Nyunkrepf left with his crew and passengers from his ship to build a new ship at the shore

Corvos: founded by the Allagans, miqo'te were subjugated and brought there as laborers -G'raha's ancestors remained when others left during the Fifth Umbral Era's Ice Age, to keep others from misusing the Allagan tech -Corvos is under Garlean rule, renamed Locus Amoenus -nearby town to his childhood home came under control of House Darnus, who had an interest in Allagan tech; G'raha was the last born with the Allagan Eye, so his family buried the Allagan tech and gave him to a friend in the Students of Baldesion to register him as a Sharlayan (Galuf)

Alphinaud's description confirms that there were "fledgling" souls after the Second Sacrifice

Gleaners collect rarities from around the world.  They've been very hectic of late - as if afraid of losing treasures.

Decision to expand Labyrinthos was made 4 days after Telophoroi declaration, but the plan would have needed to have been made much sooner - they chose to implement AFTER the announcement. -Had to do one of these a few summers back - i.e. 5 years ago or so.   **Theory** This is part of the next arc.  They are using the uncertainty caused by the Telophoroi as a cover.

Gleaner thinks they're migrating south - possibly Meracydia?

Labyrinthos was modeled on Corvos

Heartbloom: flower that responds to emotions, but they don't know how it does so.  low reproductive rate, hard to find younger populations in the wild -the pollen area looks like Hydaelyn's pupil

Sharlayan once was charged with a sacred duty, and now are trying to fulfill it

Hydaelyn ferried someone ELSE to the Aetherial Sea as well as Minfilia's soul - who else? **THEORY** Emet Selch

Society was reshaped to preserve knowledge, rather than knowledge being used to serve society, after a certain event, about 270 years ago -closest event: discovery of what would become the Antitower -when outraged, one of the Forum members became unable to speak -They're all tempred - that's the unanimity.

Montichaigne - head of the studium, friend of Louisoix

Fourchenault was a Sage in his days as a student

Fourchenault only became buried in his work WHEN the twins were born - the Journal Entry?

Moenbryda's parents work for the Confluence The nautilus Aetheryte is experimental - teleports individuals between two aetherytes that are pre-attuned to each other.

Thavnair has two kinds of gods: Manusya - beings of wisdom, forms of man - and Mrga - beings of might, form of beast -were at war, traded heads to understand the other; though now, Manusya are depicted with animal heads, and Mrga with human limbs -Mnga are gods of nature -the earliest Satrap formed a pact with a dragon "deity"

The Great Work is using Dragon Scales to nullify the tower.  Dragons CAN be tempered... but these come from the Dragon "ally" - Vritra most likely -as one of the First Brood, they may be immune to the effects -Daemir family founded the Great Work

The Au Ra came to Thavnair and joined the Arkadosha against the Gajarusa - the ones in the Steppe now The Satrap acts as mediator of disputes needed after hyur came in to area

Fandaniel rememberd someone else trying to do the talisman thing - "Oween" Fandaniel is, as ever, his own worst enemy

Theory: Varshahn is actually the Satrap

Khadga - the sword - the formation in the background of giantsgall - supposedly used by the Mayusa in their war

Supposedly, all others in Varshahn's position have gone to other nations to represent the satrap

Fandaniel's Patrons of Old Fandaniel is AMON?!?  And also isn't sure the memories of Fandaniel fit him right This Fandaniel first remembered being Amon, not Fandaniel Emet Selch had him send a clone to the tower in his stead

Varshahn is a simulacrum that houses one of Vritra's eyes.  Vritra is the true Satrap, hiding behind a puppet to avoid attracting attention

[lilly-snowbird-blog]

A time for change. Persona Whitemage

Lately Mrs.Xophine had expressed a displeasure with body and name. I simply thought she was feeling self-conscious and did my best as her doting wife to reassure her. However it turned out to be full on identity crises.

I consider myself to be a a skilled healer, but even I couldn't ease her heart. It was very upsetting to me to be a so powerless to help. Least of all my love.

Finally we found the answer in a magical potion called a Fantasia. The Alchemist guild gave her the body she felt her soul reflected. And should she find herself unhappy again, another Fantasia could change her again.

She has adopted the name Solarissa Pendragon and and is now a Miqo'te.

We've been through so much together I will always love her the same no matter what name or form she takes. I'm just happy she is comfortable with herself now.

[kilikianity]

Fevered Dreams

[This story is no longer a canonical part of either characters story due to some complications surrounding the issue that lead to this piece of writing. Though it is not canon, I liked the writing done none the less and will keep it.]

The cave was near emptied, the time for moving was close. A lot of the books had already been packed away and shipped off through one means or another. Most large furniture was ready to move. What remained, however, was a table full of alchemist supplies. Beakers and tubes bubbled and frothed as the man worked. Dabbles of chemicals here and there as a figure dipped a red, syrupy liquid into a vial of purple, causing the color to change to a much more sky blue. "Hmm." The red haired man hummed to himself. "Soon." He muttered. "Are you sure this is wise?" Came the sound of hundreds of voices coming together as one. Off to the side, Syzi'k rumbled as his body formed out of the thousands of bugs that crawled along the cave wall. "You are dabbling in a forbidden art." It warned. "I did not contract you so that you could lecture me. As much as I appreciate the knowledge you carry. You do best as a guardian, not as an assistant." Xin spoke in his usual condescending tone, though the words they shared as not in a common tongue. One of the measuring devices on the table began to glow, and Xin would retrieve a mold he had made out of wax and paper. Slowly, carefully, he would dip the waxed tube into the basin until it was fully enveloped by the liquid. He hummed out a pleased sound as the liquid began to glow. The golem lifted and sagged it's shoulders like it was sighing. "I use to be called upon to assist mages, you know. I was a respected adviser at one point." It said in it's many voices. "I had much more dignified duty then simply guarding a cave from intrusion." A single blue eye would turn to the creature as it lumbered over to his side. "Perhaps, but that was then, and this is now." He said, turning back to watch the rubbing in the near clear liquid. "And I can tell you more than any one, that times change. And so do people. Which is why, it is up to us to keep arts like this alive. We practice it, so that those that come after us might strengthen their knowledge. So they might surpass us, and grow that much closer.." He trailed, standing and retrieving a pair of tongs. "You realize, those that have learned, learned because of these magics you are practicing. Entire societies laid to waste under the devastation of black magic. Whole cities being swallowed to the earth by white magic. Simply because you do not believe in the restriction of knowledge, doesn't mean you can control it. Just look at the fate of your own people." "Careful with your words." The man warned. "True, perhaps some of my predecessors were careless, but that is the fault of their teacher. Magic is as much a science as it is an art, and left unchecked, you will encounter unstable abnormalities with any art. An arcanist blowing a hole in her hand from not having a foci, cities being swallowed. A moon being dropped. These are tragedies, yes, but that is no excuse to limit ourselves. Danger is the sign of advancement, and if sacrifices have to be made along the way, then so be it." The tongs reached into the liquid, gripping the tube of wax that had seemed not the change. When it left the liquid, however, it changed, gleaning like a tempered metal, shifting from a brown to a dull steel as it left the basin. "Ahh..perfect. Get me my braces." He ordered over his shoulder. With only a sigh, the golem would retrieve bracers. More like metal arms socketed with arm holes. The brass was dull and aged, running the length of it's side with inscriptions and runes, ending in a clawed glove that covered everything but the palm, talons ran with rivets and tubes that were empty. Wordlessly, he assisted the man in putting the garments over the span of a single arm. Sighing, Xin would flex his fingers in the gauntlet, and reach out to take the tempered metal tube while the other arm was fit. Now fully equipped, he would move to the second room. Once a standing library, this cave was little more then simply that: a cave with torches lining the wall. The only thing that remained was a bed, in which slept a blue-grey skinned man. Upon seeing him, the mages face crossed into a look of frustration. "Why am I helping you? I should be ridding myself of you while I have the chance..." It was late when he was alerted by the sensors at the cave entrance. He could identify immediately who, however. Standing, he was prepared to berate the man for visiting at this hour, and for taking his coat, but immediately when he came into view, the red haired man could hardly get out a word before he was accosted by a hug. The man sobbed drunken tears onto him as he simply held on tight, infant in arms. Xin was disarmed. Despite his resolve, he knew Jikam to bounce back quickly. What ever it was that had him out of sorts merited at least an iota of comfort. Sighing, he put a hand on the man's back. "Please..Xin." He sobbed. "Help me." Despite his best efforts, the mage couldn't help but sigh, putting his annoyance and berating off to another time. "Fine. Come in. Tell me what has happened." Over the course of the next few hours, Jikam explained what had happened, and despite Xin's distaste for how he had gotten himself there, it hardly mattered any more. He was here now, and that is what mattered. "Are you absolutely sure you want my help?" The man asked, folding his arms. "Yes. Yes, what ever it is. Just...help me. I can't take this feeling any more." And so, here they were. Xin stood over the man with a metallic tubing in hand, an old apparatus on his arms, and a look of fascination over his face. He had done this before. But this...this was only something he could have dreamed of. A cruel smile crossed his face as his pet the unoccupied hand out to Jikam's head, fingers spread. Closing his eyes, he began to chant. For a time, there was no effect, but steadily, a steam began to rise from the body of the sleeping man as he gasped. The steam would waver and churn, gathering under the palm of the mage. To the outside, it looked like nothing more. To Xin, however, he has access. The mist flickering with images of times long passed, and some so much closer. Pictures, memories, of the man and his perspective. Xin smiled. It had worked. The golem backed up a couple paces, shaking the visage that was suppose to be it's head. "This is not right. I will not be a part of this any longer." And with that, the bugs would disperse, unfolding from the form of the body to travel along the floor and walls, back up into the fungus that resided on the roof. Xin was unphased. The bronze tinted gauntlet twitched as Xin moved his fingers. One after another, images and scenery would shift. People, places, events. Xin didn't care about any of it. Anything he lingered on too long would begin to draw upon the emotions. All the sadness. The happiness. If the common man could practice such an art, kidnappings would sky rocket, as one person could sit here forever and simply last on the emotional memories of another. But that was not what this was for. No, Xin's vision gazed around at all the different scenes, scanning backwards, jumbled as the synapses in the fried brain might be. Still, too long, and the damage caused by the procedure could be permanent. "Come on...come on." He mumbled. The hand twitch, then stopped, showing a scene of a bronze skinned miqo'te woman holding his child and smiling at him, a soft blush covering her face. The emotion was tagged clearly, perhaps one of the most purest: love, desire, yearning. Xin smiled. "Got you.." He said, beginning to chant again. "H'aku. Commerce. Female." He drew, the man beneath him turning slightly in his sleep as Xin forced these thoughts to the surface. It had taken several days of a steady dosing of drugs to reach this point, and the mage was going to abuse it. "Promiscuity in the face of desire. You will be an interesting observation, Miss H'aku." The images paused once again, the faces of the two stretching to meet each other, and Xin sighed. "Figures." He said. "Love..." He shook his head, and with a violent motion, the tube was raised above his head, and slammed toward the head of the miqo'te in a damning motion. The blow would certainly be fatal..if it had made contact. the pipe smashed into the clouded vision of the memory and pushed. The hand once holding the image capping the end of the pipe as he began to chant. "Bsit-tier-mor-gahs-sal-." He chanted, as the mists under the pipe churned violently, storming as Jikam's body began to seize. Torrents of radical movement sprang from the man as he shook, a gasp escaping him. Still, Xin did not pause, pushing the pipe further as the mist seemed to be absorbed. After a minute of struggling, the pipe resting against the head of the miqo'te, casuing him to cry out as a sizzling sound filled the cave, a smoke rising from the joining. The arm whirled to life, tubbing filling with the smokey substance of the cloud. Once all tubes along the arm where filled, Xin stood from the bed, and cast the pipe aside, the tempered steel spinning across the ground to clatter against the wall. Clenching his fist, the man focused, a bead of sweat producing from his forehead. The holding arm shook, throwing out itself as the hand clenched, threatening to throw the elbow in the wrong direction, or dislodge the arm all together. The display lasted only above thirty seconds before he regained control, and brought the arm back to his front, holding the balled fist in front of him. Slowly, he would open the fist to revealed a perfect sphere of glass. A marble. Inside of which was a cloud. Xin smiled, wiping his forehead with his forearm of the undamaged arm. "You owe me.." He mumbled, glancing at the man who lay upon his bed, the seizing having stopped, and a small, dark ring on his forehead. The Dark Sigil. Shaking his head, Xin looked back to the piping. Dissolved. Turned to a liquid that seeped into the ground. Just in time. Moving back to his room, Xin began to unstrap the apparatus from his arms. Once freed, they were placed back in the wooden trunks from which he came. After taking a moment to look over the damage to his right arm, he sniffed and brought up a finger to his ear. "Violet." He said in his usual, even voice. "I found Jikam. He is well, but would should probably come and retrieve him." Before he let his hand his ear. Turning, he would open the drawer of his night stand, and retrieve a small, leather sack. Opening it, he dropped the marble inside, joining it with a sea of others, each of varying colors, but all the same shape. He smirked. "One down.." He remarked to himself, closing up the bag.