#Green lady of Camp Dragonhead

[toadeyes-miqote]

Prompt #9: Fair

Note – Mid HW spoiler, Light party on a Coerthan snow-covered roof

Fair If you could consider Coerthan weather to be that when it was not snowing heavily and the sky was clear enough to see for malms beyond Whitebrim, then fair it was.

Halone be praise that it was still reasonable enough to consider it an auspicious start to a new life, especially now that she was acquitted for regicide. It seems to him that while she was willing to travel, she was reluctant to visit Ul’dal outside official guilds and Adder business. Wariness had made her cautious enough to wear her paltry rank and what little weight a Fortemps ward had as a shield of sorts.

But that was not why they were up on the roof his office in Camp Dragonhead. It took some convincing, perhaps a bit of guilt tripping to sway her into this silly endeavour. His enthusiasm can be rather overwhelming for the quiet Miqo’te. Though her comrades were still unaccounted for, whatever little victories they can score, take it they will.

So here on his roof, with her in her tabard of black with silver and red trimmings, she looked every ilm a War Bard, He remembered the way she fought, raining hellfire in a small enclosed space to defend her loyal comrade. The tranquil rage of the Fury Incarnate.

Save for the feathery winged bow she now wields. He had requested it instead of the said nefarious and intimidating flaming bow used in the trial. Her elegant winged bow represents hope. Hope taking flight. Hope sprouting for Ishgard. Hope that perhaps they could be something more.

Perhaps. He chose to ignore what his discrete investigations had dug up. It was minor enough, whoever he was, no one had seen him. All that did was draw questions as to why she was travelling alone. As for the Scion rogue, his sources seem to indicate that he was her handler and mentor. Close as they were. Details all minor enough that when the time comes, it would be her choice. Until then, the here and the now is what matters.  

His young painter had agreed to the initial sketching. It was not much of a challenge for him to get the appropriate green shades for her tabard at a later date. The main thing was the sketch. The boy has a good memory and a good hand. All he and their Lalafellan comrade had done was keep the braziers burning and hot cocoa on hand.

------- Garuda would like to put forward a letter of complaint about the amount of feathers she keeps losing every time that Miq'tten slots her fight in for stickers.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: The Color of Home

A/N: *maniacal laughter* Managed to finish just before 5.4 like I wanted to! A bit of fluff before SE has us screaming tomorrow.

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 2598 WARNINGS: Spoilers for Shadowbringers through the end of Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Cross-posted to AO3

Aymeric returns later than intended one night, exhausted and worn from a long day politicking...and something is different about Synnove. Not bad, or wrong, just...different.

No doubt she'll tease him for his poor observation skills later. And the change, once he realizes what it is, is truly lovely.

----

Even with Limsa Lominsa and the western half of Vylbrand a mere bell behind Ishgard, dusk had already fully fallen by the time Aymeric teleported in front of the La Noscea house’s garden gate. He paused as he landed, legs unsteady not so much from aetherial travel as it was from sheer exhaustion. Up since before dawn after a restless night, to try and at least fit in some exercise before meetings had controlled the rest of his day, and not more to eat than a pastry with his breakfast tea and a single sandwich for lunch. He counted himself lucky, at least, that his last meeting of the day had only gone two bells beyond the usual Ishgardian dinner hour; a record, truly, especially for Count Dzemael on a tear.

Hells take that man.

Aymeric closed the gate behind him as he entered the yard, and trudged through the garden and around the house for the kitchen door. The lights on the ground floor were on, a cheery yellow in the darkening gloom, which meant Synnove was still awake, and hopefully nearly done with preparing dinner after her own long day at the Gate. Today was supposed to have been his turn to cook, and thankfully Synnove had merely chuckled at him and told him not to worry when he had claimed a ten-minute break and called her on the linkpearl.

The windows in the kitchen were thrown open, despite the bite of chill beginning to linger in the air; winter came late to Vylbrand. It also let the smell of dinner spill into the yard: buffalo stew, gently spiced for flavor rather than heat, and fresh baked bread. His stomach growled and the reminder of how long ago lunch had been had him picking up his pace until he could press down on the handle of the door, swing it open, and step inside.

The kitchen was pleasantly warm, the smell of bubbling stew even stronger, and Aymeric took a deep, appreciative breath as he shut the door and shrugged off his coat. Norlaise must have said something to Synnove long before he had been able to call her; a stew like this normally took hours of slow cooking to reach such perfection. A niggle of guilt hissed at the back of his mind, but he acknowledged and dismissed it; he would be able to return the favor for Synnove soon enough, after all.

The lady of the house was currently bent over, fetching the bread from the oven, and even as sluggish as he felt, he still shamelessly indulged in the sight of her canvas shorts pulled taut over the luscious curve of her buttocks before she stood back up. The tray with two beautifully crusty loaves was set aside, and Synnove turned on her heel with a grin as she pulled off her oven mitts. “Welcome home, Aymeric!” she said. “A little birdie told me it’s been a long day for you.”

“I believe I know the birdie’s name,” Aymeric laughed. “And it’s good to be home. The stew smells wonderful.”

“Just needs a few more minutes for the last of the vegetables to finish cooking,” his lady said, turning back to the stove and reaching for a wooden spoon to give the contents of her giant pot a careful stir.

Aymeric frowned slightly as she did so, tilting his head in puzzlement and setting his hands on his hips. There was…something different about her. Something he knew he should have caught whatever it was as soon as he had seen her, but Fury take him, his mind was refusing to work.

Synnove turned around once more and frowned herself as she took in his expression. “What’s wrong, love?”

There was no use lying. “Is something different with you?”

The frown turned into a playful smirk, amusement sparking in her eyes. “Darling, do I need to be a hypocrite?” she said, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms, one eyebrow ticking upward.

“Considering how often I’m one regarding your own sleep and work habits, ‘tis only fair.”

Synnove laughed, his favorite sound in all the world, and said, “You work too long and too hard sometimes, my Aymeric. But, yes, I’ll grant you this: there is something different. Can you tell me what it is?” Her tone was light and lilting and dripping with mischief.

Aymeric was running off too much coffee and tea and not enough sleep; he knew his cognitive functioning was next to gone, it being why Norlaise had dragged him out of the office by his ear like he was one of her recalcitrant grandchildren as soon as Count Dzemael had finished darkening the halls of Parliament. He was at least forgiven for not immediately catching on to what was off about Synnove, at least, with a cheery dare like that.

She grinned a little wider at his continued confusion.

Her eyes were still as green as fine emeralds. Her skin was still healthy-golden bronze as it should always be, and not like the wan brown from stress and exhaustion when she had first returned from the First. Her favorite gloss stained her lips a blushing pink, slightly faded from day-long wear.

He dropped his gaze, still puzzled. Her shirt—his, once upon a time—was solid blue flannel, the color faded from true to powder over the years from repeated washings, the fabric sinfully soft, and the sleeves rolled to her elbows and top few buttons undone. Her simple sapphire pendant necklace, one of his gifts to her their first Starlight, glinted in the lamplight, the pendant hanging just below the hollow of her collarbones, and the bracelet upon which each of the carbuncles’ summoning foci was threaded still hung from her left wrist.

His gaze dropped further, his brow furrowing, and he heard his lady giggle as he took in the rest of her appearance. No obvious new additions to the arcanima tattoos, at least the ones visible on her forearms and the backs of her hands. Her nail lacquer was still green from the last time she had applied it, though it was beginning to chip in various spots from work and chores and hand-washing. She had on a pair of those awful, wonderful canvas shorts that were barely decent even by Lominsan standards, and showed off almost every mouthwatering ilm of her long, gorgeous legs. Her house shoes were the old, worn pair with embroidered carbuncles, one of Rereha’s—and Angharad’s, the needlework being hers—numerous joke gifts to Synnove over the years.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

Aymeric raised his gaze back to her face, framed by her favorite style of Gyr Abanian braids. She giggled again and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from her eyes, the mahogany and gree—

His mind skittered to a halt and his eyes went wide as realization finally hit him like a sledgehammer.

No. Not green, not the same color as lush grass in high summer. At least, not anymore.

The dyed ends of her hair were now blue.

“Sweetling, your hair,” he sputtered intelligently.

Synnove laughed at him outright now, low and husky and brushing across his ears like crushed velvet, and pushed off from the kitchen counter to stride the handful of paces forward and cup his face in her hands. As she brushed his cheeks with her thumbs, her eyes sparkling with delighted mischief, Aymeric reached up to gently grasp the end of the braid resting on her shoulder between his fingers, examining the new color of it with shocked wonder.

The green had been one of the first things he had noticed about her as he entered the Camp Dragonhead Intercessory all those years ago. Synnove had been turned away upon his arrival, talking in low tones with Heron, and the brilliant green among her dark brown tresses had been especially eye-catching against the formal grey of her assessor’s robe. Only her eyes had been greener, finer than any Ul’dahn emerald, alight with curiosity and interest as they had been introduced.

Now, the color that had reminded him of fresh spring grass had been replaced by a lovely hue similar to the cornflowers that had once carpeted Coerthan meadows in spring. Unlike the green that had been a uniform shade from both afar and up close, however, this blue seemed to shift beneath his scrutiny: the light caught on periwinkle, sapphire, ice. Familiar colors, that made her emerald gaze all the brighter and more piercing.

“Not that you aren’t as beautiful as ever, Synnove,” he said at last, “but…why?”

His lady laughed at him again, softer than before, and stroked his cheeks one last time before settling her hands on his shoulders. “Two reasons,” she said, wry. “First: I’d been using that shade of green for sixteen years; it was high time for a change of pace.”

Aymeric chuckled and inclined his head in concession. “A fair point,” he said, and brought the end of the braid to his lips to kiss. As he did so, Synnove’s eyes crinkled while a pleased smile pulled at her lips, a light flush dusting her cheeks; the sight caused him to grin in return, pride swelling in his chest. It was always a delight seeing how much joy she took from even the smallest of affectionate gestures.

“As for the second…” Synnove’s expression fell into pensiveness as she sighed quietly and glanced away, brow furrowing while gathering her thoughts. Aymeric frowned slightly, letting go of her braid to wrap an arm around her waist, loosely, but his lady nearly immediately took the invitation, leaning forward to bury her face in his chest with another sigh. Permission thus granted, he tightened his grip on her, and brought his other arm around her to hug her close, propping his chin atop her head, and waited.

Finally:

“I’d been thinking about it for a while,” Synnove said, her voice muffled. “Since we first returned from the First.”

Aymeric’s grip on his lady involuntarily tightened as he went rigid, before he forced himself to relax, drawing a hand up and down her spine in firm, comforting strokes—more for himself than her, for all that she melted into the touch. A lick of fiery rage coiled around his heart, hissing and spitting, not at Synnove but for her, as it had when she had slowly, hesitantly, spoke of what she and her sisters had experienced on the First. Of what she had endured. Of why she had appeared as if she was in the depths of aethershock even a sennight after returning, why she had startled so badly at the sound of cracking ice as they had taken a walk in the Pillars her third day home, why she had steadfastly refused to let salt anywhere near her food. But then, as now, the instinctive, protective anger wasn’t of use.

Synnove’s right hand slid off his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bending her arm in the way he knew she was about to slide that hand between them to rub at her sternum, right above her heart, the surest tell she had that she was remembering the weight of the Lightwardens’ aether. Ceasing his petting of her back, he gently caught her hand in his, and drew back enough to lift it and press his lips against her knuckles, then turning her hand over to kiss her palm.

His lady smiled at him, faint but genuine, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin in turn. “It didn’t feel right to make the change until we brought the rest of the Scions home,” she continued in a soft murmur, “not with so much at stake and so many unknowns. Better to wait, when that chapter was definitively closed.

“But on the First, there were times when I…I just missed the familiar. Everything was so different, in a way that wasn’t even when we traveled to Othard. Not just the sights and sounds and smells, but the very aether of that world, unsettlingly so. As if it should be familiar, but was just subtly…wrong. And I just wanted a little bit of home, even after I adapted to it.”

Synnove leaned into him again, and they resettled their limbs so that they were comfortably wrapped around one another. As Aymeric resumed rubbing her back, she rested her cheek on his heart and gave his torso a light squeeze, a comforting half-moment of pressure and warmth. “I thought about a few different options for a reminder of home when I’m far from Eorzea, even if just on the same star,” she said. “Mementos like a pressed flower from the garden, or a bag of spice from the markets, or a miniature portrait of you or Auntie. But physical items can be lost, or stolen, or destroyed.”

“Thus, the dye,” Aymeric said.

“Thus, the dye.” Synnove turned her head to prop her chin on his sternum, forcing him to pull back once more to meet her glittering eyes, and her slow smile was as radiant as any sunrise. “So that every time I looked in a mirror or a stray strand hung just in the corner of my eye, there would be a little bit of home with me.”

He had a niggling thought about why she had chosen the color—colors?—that she had…but he would rather like to hear the confirmation from her own lovely lips. “And the blue?” he said, voice light, though he wasn’t able to entirely hide his eager curiosity.

Her smile widened, affectionate and knowing, but she humored him nonetheless. “Well, I flatly refused to do anything multicolor,” she said, sly. “That would just be gauche.”

“You’re a hyur, not a bird of paradise,” Aymeric quipped.

“Precisely.” Synnove gave him a broad wink. “So, I picked blue, and with a bit of assistance from Rerenasu, managed to blend a dye that could accurately capture a few different hues. Periwinkle, for Ishgard. Sapphire, for House Borel. And a pale, icy blue,” here she paused to tap his nose with a forefinger, “for your eyes.”

Warmth suffused his chest, soft and happy and more than a little bit smug, and Aymeric found himself grinning down at his lady, charmed by her words, charmed by her, as he ever was. “I admit,” he said, quiet but pleased, “I quite like the idea of a little bit of myself traveling with you on your adventures, even if it’s merely as innocuous as a color.”

“I thought you might,” she murmured, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her lips sweet and velvety. He tugged her closer and returned her kiss with the barest hint of teeth to nip at her, teasing until Synnove’s shoulders shook with laughter. They broke apart only long enough to rest their foreheads together and Aymeric let himself drown in the green of her eyes as she drank in the sight of him in turn, contentment settling over them like a comfortable blanket.

A flash of color came at the corner of his eye, followed by the chorus warbles of five carbuncles. Can we eat yet?

Synnove snorted, and Aymeric snickered, but they finally let go of another, and set to the task of finishing dinner preparations. And if he paused while setting the table, and filling plates, and tucking into his own meal to admire how mahogany now shaded into blue rather than green, well. Synnove, at least, did not hold it against him.

[efrmellifer]

Sapphistry

I’ve been promising some wlw content with Etien for a while so... here it is!

Etien had known for several years now that she would be pleased to extend her affections to more than simply men. Maybe not soon enough to have had any clarity on why she’d felt the way she did when A’beilnah had left the Twelveswood, but long enough that it didn’t come as a surprise to her when she took a stronger interest in the welfare of the Doman refugees.

Particularly their leader.

When she and Alphinaud had sat down for that long discussion about why a boat full of Domans had come to port in Vesper Bay, Etien had been cautiously curious about the woman sitting before them dressed all in purple and symbols Etien didn’t recognize.

The way that Yugiri kept her face obscured, but the hood of her coat gave suggestions of what lay below had further piqued Etien’s curiosity.

Of course, she had other things on her mind—both of them did, in fact—as they stood before the Syndicate so Yugiri could plead her case.

Still, the layers of clothing still worn close to the body, the long protrusions covered in cloth extending from her head, her stance, Etien studied it all with an eye half assessing and half appreciating.

Even as the Syndicate deliberated, Etien’s mind wandered to thoughts of being trusted enough that the Lady Yugiri might remove the mask and let her see who it was that they had been striving to assist.

Her soft manner of speaking was soothing to Etien, too, the way she made her case while keeping her tone level, her voice on the quiet side while still carrying to those who needed to hear it.

It was only as Etien was handing over a sackful of gil-- “to pay the healers, so the young ones could getthat care they need,” she’d explained—and Yugiri’s hands brushed hers as she took the coinpurse that it all properly clicked for her.

The warmth that spread across her back at the realization, like a too-hot coat in the springtime sun, made it all very clear.

She didn’t just admire Yugiri. She liked her.

Well, plenty of the other Scions liked Yugiri, and wanted to help.

No, this was different from that. Etien pushed herself to put the words together, in the din of her mind.

She wanted to trace with her eyes, and possibly her fingers, the curves of Yugiri’s face implied by the mask, to press a kiss to her forehead. Perhaps the lips that spoke so softly.

She wanted to peel away the almost-white gloves and hold, then kiss, Yugiri’s hands.

Etien had caught a glimpse or two of the glossy black hair in braids that hung down Yugiri’s back, and absently thought of running her fingers through it, of redoing those braids after a long day. Perhaps they could drink tea and do each other’s hair, and relax into domestic comfort, after all the fighting they had to do. For their lives, for their livelihoods.

Catching Roaille together, Etien suppressed a thrill at how they walked side by side, bringing up the rear. They were almost close enough to touch

_

When it had all burned down, and Etien feared that she was about to be hauled away for a murder she didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t have committed, it had been a relief that she had been welcomed by a friendly face in the Coerthan highlands. But it had been some other sort of feeling entirely when she’d met with the few of her comrades who had made it to Camp Dragonhead as well.

That is to say, she much preferred the butterflies in her stomach when she recognized the shade of purple to the sickly dread she’d been feeling since she ran from the banquet.

But there was a bit of a shock as she finally got a look at the lady behind the mask.

Yugiri’s hair was neat, two locks hanging down, bangs stopping just above her eyebrows, and drawing attention to her light green eyes. Oh, what a beautiful contrast to the deep purple she always wore!

Etien was aware she was staring, only able to shut her mouth and blush when Yugiri spoke, clarifying the situation as best she could with a “Hm? Ah, yes, my mask—it was lost in the struggle.”

Well, these weren’t the circumstances Etien had expected this first look behind the veil to take place under.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Tataru asked.

“Very,” Etien replied, blinking a few times as if she had looked into a bright light.

Tataru continued the tale of how she and Yugiri escaped Ul’dah and Urianger had disguised the Waking Sands, but Etien was only half paying attention, tracing with her eyes the edge of every scale on Yugiri’s cheek.

As she left, saying that the rest of the Domans would keep up the search for the other Scions, Etien watched her go, a little sad as her eyes tracked the swish of Yugiri’s retreating tail.

There would be a next time they saw each other, Etien assured herself.

And next time, she would not stare.

[avettabendrot]

Layer - A’vett Abendrot

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: "I’m A’vett! It’s an honor to meet you.!

Eye Colour: Green

Hair Style/Colour: Fluffy white hair~

Height: 1,70m

Clothing Style: Long robes/coats and mostly high boots

Best Physical Feature: “Maybe my ears?” But A’vett~~ we all know you’re skilled in baking and magic X’D But yes, his ears are very usuful I guess XD

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: *gasps* “That my knight leaves me.” He won’t leave you my boy <3 

Your Guilty Pleasure: “ That I can never get enough apple strudel!” Did he sneak in the kitched to steal some as child? yes x’D 

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “hmmm I don’t know to be honest.” 

Your Ambition For The Future: “To become a very skilled mage and protect those I love!”  

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: Haurchefant? For sure X’D 

What You Think About The Most: See above LOL 

What You Think About Before Bed: “If I did my best today.” Yeah he wonders if he did everything alright on that day ^^; tztztz He doesn’t have Haurchi always in his mind X’D uhhh

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “Baking!” High quality bread for everyone! 

LAYER FOUR: WHAT'S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “A group date would be a strange to be honest.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Respected by the most and loved by my knight and parents.” 

Beauty or Brains: “I would say brain but all Elezen are beatuiful....” *blushes* Oh A’vett you lil dork XD

Dogs or Cats: “Why not Chocobo or Carbuncles?”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “I did, yes. But I wouldn’t call it a lie if you don’t say everything you know.” 

Believe in Yourself: “Depends in what I’m doing or have to do” 

Believe in Love: “Of course!”

Want Someone: “I don’t want someone. I want the knight of my....! Ah. Someone to love. Y-yes...” 

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Does my shift in the store count?” A’vett and his parents are changing shifts of course XD Whenever, He or Elviane on the cash and Aurifort mostly in the kitchen :3 

Done Drugs: *gasps* No, he never did.

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “I probably will never fit fully in Ishgard.” *sighs* “But I’m respecting the Elezen folk with great honor” 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVOURITES

Favourite Colour: “Green”

Favourite Animal: “Chocobo”

Favourite Food: *inhales* “Apple strudel!” Ok he likes almost everthing with apples XD A’vett also likes beets and potatoes with a good steak >8D

Favourite Game: “I’m afraid that I don’t have time for games. But hide and seek was my fav”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be:  14th Sun of 3rd Umbral Moon (06.13/ 13th June)

How Old Will You Be: I personally don’t count his age XD He fell in love with 18 and they got together with 19. Adult A’vetts story is where he’s 25. Fortemps A’vett is older and married

Age You Lost Your Virginity: *blushes* “By Thaliak! Why should I?!” The answer is around 20 X’D it was Haurchefant ha! 

Does Age Matter: “No.” *holds for a second* And there I just noticed that A’vett never asked about Haurchis age X’DDD 

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

Best Personality: “Someone who’s carring for the weak and helps the poor.” 

Best Eye Colour: “Skyblue...?” I wonder who has blue eyes x’D 

Best Hair Colour: “Bluish...?” A’vett...stop describing Haurchefant x’DDDD  

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Drinking hot chocolate!”  A’vett is a simple man X’D *AU A’vett in the corner with a smile*

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “Reading books and baking bread or cookies!.”

I feel: “Curious for everything new.”

I hide: “oh...uhmmm” 

I miss: “my parents sometimes when I work at Camp Dragonhead.”

I wish: *whispers with a nervos shaking* “To have a tail...”  

I honestly totally forgot about that one here LOL But I saw it at @scholarlostintime​​ and @lady-iseterre​​ and was like....oh damn! I wanted to do that x’D 

[warriorsofhydaelyn]

PROMPT 2: Bargain

September 2nd Prompt: Bargain Vaco’a Yeidsa

@SEA-WOLF-COAST-TO-COAST

It had been quite the trek, making his way from Camp Dragonhead with someone in tow. Thankfully, Vaco’a had a means to call some help, a little whistle that signaled the arrival of a chocobo, golden in color. It was with this bird’s help that he was able to get him and his friend from the frigid wastelands of Coerthas to the arid cliffs of Mor Dohna. It still took quite a bit of time, and with Aeterna’s ailing complexion, it only drove him onward, worry and a touch of fear behind his haste.

Regardless, he has still managed to make it there, arriving to the settlement of adventurers, Revenant’s Toll. He was watchful of the people about, wanting to keep as low a profile as he could. However, it was no more a worry of people know him here. Here it was known; here it was safe. His secret. The fact that the Scions had settled here was a cause, considering how often he came and went, often with the Scion’s company. People were bound to figure it out.

“Hey! Mister Warrior!” came a voice, causing Vaco’a to slow to a stop, letting out a small breath of aspiration. He should have expected this, considering his notoriety in the settlement. He turned his eyes behind him to see one of the Doman children, who rushed up to him with a jump to their step. He smiled sincerely, as anyone should when a child approached them.

“Ah, yes?” He asked, voice low so as to not bother Aeterna to much as she was slumped a little bit against Solstice’s neck. She had turned her head to look to him and the child, watching. That only made him more nervous, letting out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle.

“Where did you come from? Was it that snowy place? What did you see? Were you on a mission?” And there came the wellspring of questions, ever the curious ones he found the children of Doma. He grinned a bit before kneel down, as he towered just a bit over the smaller stature of the child.

“I did, Coerthas, remember the name, it might be of value to you when you too become an adventurer.” He told the young boy, who only grinned to him on the answer, eagerly awaiting the rest from the hopeful gleam in his eyes. “I was not on a mission, I am however am on one now, one I should be completely.” He reached up to tussle the young man’s hair with his gloved hand. “Perhaps when I finish, I will come back to tell you more.” He chuckled before he stood back up to his full height.

The smile upon the boy’s face looked like it would nearly split his face, how overjoyed he was at hearing that. He nearly jumped on his feet as he rushed off, waving back to him and Aeterna. “You promised! I’ll be waiting!” He called as he went back to his gaggle of friends, other children from Doma. Vaco’a frowned just a bit, he wondered just how different… and difficult it was to live here, compared to their home.

He shook his head, it was not something to think about at this moment, he had a task to complete. He had told Aeterna that she would be safe in the Scions’ care, and he would make good on that promise. He smiled to Aeterna as she smiled back to him, finally dropping her silence when the child had been there. “I hadn’t realized you were good with kids.”

Vaco’a let out a bit of nervous laughter at that, turning back towards the road to head down the paved path, towards the aetheryte. “Ah, well it is somethin you sort of learn when they approach you so often.” He muttered, a small blush of embarrassment on his cheeks. It wasn’t long before they made it to settlement’s center, finding their way before some doors which, from the sounds of the laughter and what could only be men shouts, could only be a tavern of some kind.

Vaco’a reach up his arms to help Aeterna down from Solstice’s back, the smaller girl stumbling a bit against his chest as she was still unsteady upon her feet. He held her a moment in his arms, making sure she was steady. At least, that’s what he told himself as he held her, feeling both a sense of warm from her in his arms and a chill from the sensations. It was strange, he almost felt like she was made to fit so perfectly there, right in his arms.

A small shake of his head, he let out a soft cough, moving his hands to her arms, to keep her steady before he let go. He gave her a smile, hoping the small dusting of pink went unnoticed upon his cheeks. “Apologies, I should have made sure you had your footin.” He grinned before he held his hand out to her, for her to take. She had her head turned towards the ground, one hand gently rubbing her other arm in a slow fashion. Had he made her nervous?

He sighed internally, he always managed to do that. Regardless, she took his hand after a time, allowing him to lead her into the tavern before them. He held open the door for her to enter before he took her past all the rowdy adventurers in the room. There was a door in the back, that was his target, he just hoped he could make it before –

“Oh ‘ey, all, tha Warrior!” Came the shout, one of a man with an accent, and clearly drunk from the sounds of it. Vaco’a couldn’t help but sigh, he knew he should have changed his garb before coming here. This armor of his was too recognizable. He turned to the other adventurer who approached him and Aeterna.

It was a big Roegadyn, dark in skin tone, a seawolf, as they were wont to be called. The man’s dark hair made it a bit hard to see the deep green eyes that flitted to Aeterna a moment, who held onto Vaco’a’s arm as she hid a bit behind him. Vaco’a only grinned, as he should, when approached as he was by the rowdy adventurer. “Ah, hello.” He greeted with a small wave, trying to keep the man’s attention off of Aeterna.

“Now, I didn’t think tha Warrior of Light was one to pick up dames. Ye sly dog.” He chortled, letting out a peal of laughter in his drunken state, waving an arm to his comrades at the bar. They all waved him off, obviously more content to stay seated and enjoy their drinks. Vaco’a considered it a mercy that they stayed put. This man however, only reached over to give Vaco’a’s shoulder, the one not being held by Aeterna, a powerful smack.

Thankfully, Vaco’a had steeled himself for such treatment, keeping his feet on the ground and not moving much as it jostled him a little bit. He rotated his shoulder a bit to get a bit of feeling back into it. These Roegadyns, always putting more power into their swings than they aught should. “Well, don’t let me keep ye. Enjoy ye night.” The Roegadyn grinned, tipping his head to Aeterna as he turned back to his pack of hooligans at the bar.

Vaco’a breathed out a sigh, halfway of irritation and relief. He grinned a bit nervously to Aeterna and guided her towards the door that was set in the back of the room. Safely behind its threshold, he closed it behind them, letting out a deep breath. “I… ah, apologize for the men, they can get a little much to handle when they had a few too many drinks.” He grinned.

She merely smiled to him as she shook her head. “It’s fine, though I am finding myself quite surprised by how many know who you are.”

Vaco’a gave a nervous chuckle as he led her towards the inner chambers of the Rising Stones, “Ah, yes, it is a bit hard to keep that under wraps when it is home to the base of the Scions.” He mentioned, nodding to the room around them. There were people seated, and others standing, but they all kept to themselves, talking in near hushed tones. Only one person approached him at this moment, one he expected.

Tataru let out a gasp upon seeing him, rushing over with a worried look upon her little features, “Oh, Vaco’a, I had not expected to see you. What with the, oh, who is this?” She asked, upon her eyes falling to Aeterna at his side.

“Yes, this is Aeterna Hinotori. She… has a condition that I was thinkin the Scions could help with…” His voice trailed there, having nearly forgotten about the Scions’ condition at present. “When they have the time, I mean…” he grinned, though it was slightly saddened, a look that did not go unnoticed by both parties in his company. Tataru had the grace to not pry, patting his hand a bit as she turned her gaze to Aeterna, who looked ready to ask Vaco’a what troubled him.

Thankfully Tataru had been ready to pull her attention from him, “Miss Hinotori, was it, a pleasure. I am Tataru, heh, I suppose you could call me the lady behind the scenes here in the Scions.” She gently took the auri’s hand, leading her away from Vaco’a. “Here, a room for you to rest. I am sure I will get the details about your ailments in due time.” Tataru turned her head for but a moment to look back at Vaco’a, a small knowing grin on her face.

Oh… he knew that look. She was sure to ask more than just about Aeterna’s ailments upon her return. He put his face in his head, he was in for more than he bargained for, bring Aeterna here. But he would have to face it. It was his idea after all. Twelves help him.

[rhymingteelookatme]

Turning

Words: 1638 In which it is a new year, and thus time to turn a new leaf. Even a little one.

Sifting through her pack, Thosinund comes across a creased old envelope.

It seems to have been in there for quite some time. The paper is worn soft with friction, the wax seal somehow only chipped rather than broken. And on the front it bears the phrase- For the Summoning of the Aesthetician. Thosi has to take a moment to recall where she got it. She turns it over in her fingers, slowly, and lets her mind wander.

As long as she can remember, she's worn her hair the same way. Two braids, one on each side, and bangs across her forehead. She didn't for a moment consider changing it after she became an adventurer; she didn't have the time. Then she met the Scions, and, well... it's been a long six years since then. A very long six years.

And, well. She's stuck. In many ways. Waiting, waiting, endless waiting; all the tea-and-sympathy sessions in the world are not enough to get this latest, largest burden off her shoulders. Her braids have begun to feel like millstones, hanging either side of her neck.

So she takes a room at the Hourglass, breaks the seal of the token, and (with a word aloud to the moogle she knows must be about somewhere) sends it on its way.

--

Camp Dragonhead  is almost quiet of late, thanks to a certain adventurer's efforts in the area. One must go further and further afield to find aught on which to sharpen one's sword. Even as far as Providence Point.

To sharpen one's sword, but also to have a bit of privacy.

“Dearest,” Haurchefant says, “have I mentioned I adore you?”

“Once or twice,” Thosi answers. Squeezes his hand.

“Ah, good-”

“Per bell,” she adds. “If not minute.”

“Well, I–” The wind blows her braid into his face, but he only laughs, then catches it and presses it to his cheek. “Oho! A scarf in this chill air. Thank you, love.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she grins. “I can do better than that.” 

--

Thosi’s summons is answered rather sooner than she expected- within bells, there is a knock at her door. The instant she opens it, the knocker launches into a speech complete with all manner of extravagant gestures.

“Where languishing locks hang limp with fatigue, where tired tresses cry out for succor- Jandelaine shall be there! Show! Show me the coiffure in need of comfort, the mop to which I must minister! And I shall create these sad strands anew—” Then he seems to register Thosinund’s presence for the first time. “Twelve preserve us, Thosinund Haldkhanwyn herself asks for my aid! Come, come, dear lady, let us sit.”

The aesthetician sweeps past her into the room for all the world as though it were his own. He draws the chair out from the vanity and bows her into it, then starts to circle her.

“Now what might I do for you today? Have you need of the catalogue? Or shall you consign yourself to my instincts alone?”

Thosi finds herself amused, yet slightly flustered as Jandelaine peers at her head from every angle. “Well…” she says. “I know I want it shorter, but not too much. Beyond that, though, I trust your judgment.”

He lifts one braid across his palm. Studies it. “Hmm. Here?” He closes his fingers round it at the level of her shoulder.

“Higher.”

“Here?” He moves his grip to the level of her chin.

“There,” she agrees. “Have at it, ser.”

Without further ado, Jandelaine launches into action—his tools flashing in the light, his hands moving at blinding speed—until, all at once, he is several fulms away and posing triumphantly. “Behold: a beauty reborn!”

Thosinund blinks, little green spots dancing across her vision. Beyond these, in the mirror, she sees her new reflection.

One hand rises to brush the ends of the hair that now hangs just past her jawline by an ilm or so, aligning precisely with the lowest tip of her chin. Her bangs have been swept to the left, and a single braid has been wrapped over like a headband from the left side to the right. She feels around gingerly to see how it is fastened- there. Several pins secure the end of the braid behind her ear.

“Oh,” is the only word she can manage. She finds it hard to look away.

Jandelaine is almost audibly preening. “‘Twas my pleasure, madame.”

–

Haurchefant finds Thosinund by the fire after a day’s rounds, drying her hair, and the sight makes him catch his breath.

She looks up at the sound, sees him standing there mesmerized, but he cannot help it. Her hair unbound, still slightly damp in places, glows in the firelight like the sun low over the horizon.

“Well hello,” she says, and laughs softly. “Your face is a picture of- I don’t know what. Something the matter, love?”

He clears his throat, comes over to join her. “Oh, no, I’ve simply come into a previously ordinary room and found it occupied by an angel. As one does.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I’d settle for its getting me right here.”

--

Thosi’s head seems physically lighter, now. She goes about in a slight daze for the next bell or so, full of vague thoughts of showing off the new look; her feet carry her to the Rising Stones practically of their own accord. 

Alisaie doesn't seem to realize just who is approaching until Thosi is within five fulms of her—whereupon she registers a double take. “Goodness,” she says after a suspended second. “That’s quite the chop.”

“I told him not to take off too much…” Thosi runs her hand over her head for the umpteenth time. “It’s not too much, is it?”

“No,” Alisaie assures her, almost instantly. “It looks good, I was just- surprised. The Great Vanishing of the Eternal Plaits—well, the Partial Vanishing,” she amends.  

“Whose plaits are vanishing?” This from Clemence, coming over from the far end of the room; she answers her own question in the next breath. “Oh, Thosinund’s—my word. The others will certainly be surprised, won't they?”

That hangs awkwardly in the air for about three seconds. “That is- well, you know. Alianne, Ephemie, the Boulder boys- those others.”

Nope. No. Thosi is not picturing the line of beds right now. That comes later.

“Alisaie, would you- want to come with me for a bit? There's something I think I need to do.”

--

“Why dreadful?” he asks her, after she has called him so for the third time that day.

“Because you are,” she tells him, shaking her head with a grin. “There’s no helping it, you just are. Entirely too much so.”

Haurchefant clarifies. “Tis not the word so much that I question, but the phrase and the tone- I know you never mean it as an insult, yet it is a most singular expression. However did you come by it?”

She seems puzzled by the question, until a mortified look comes over her face. “Oh gods- it, er… It’s something my mother says. When Pa gets, ah. Well, when he acts even a little like you- talking sweet, things like that. I can’t believe I never thought about it before now—”

Haurchefant is sorry to cut her off midsentence, but he absolutely must kiss her for that. Thoroughly. Until she breaks away, saying his fringe is tickling her.

“Look at you,” she tells him. “Look at this,” touching his nose, “and these,” kissing his eyelids, “and this by-gods ridiculousness,” brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You’ve got no business being the way you are.”

“Dreadful?” he asks, smiling.

“Irresistible.”

--

The wind is frosty as ever, perhaps frostier, on Thosinund’s newly bare neck as she and Alisaie trudge up the slope of Providence Point. They're both wrapped in fur-collared coats, and still the cold finds its way to her skin.

When they reach the memorial site, Alisaie seems... unsure. Despite having been briefed as they traveled from Revenant's Toll, as they rode up and through Camp Dragonhead. She remains a step or two behind while Thosinund kneels in the snow and fumbles one gloved hand into her pocket, fishing out a folded handkerchief of a particular shade of blue.

“Hey,” Thosi says softly to the stone. “It's been a while, love. I promised Alisaie I wouldn't take long, but... I brought you something.”

She rewraps the kerchief bundle in her hand. A strand or two slips free from its folds.

“What do you think, hm? I'm sure you’re raving on about it even now. But I held onto this for quite a while without you—maybe too long. So I thought it best to bring it here.”

She digs a little hollow in the snow, perhaps six ilms deep. Nestles the bundle down within, then pats the snow over it again.

“The heavens have turned, Haurchefant. Til next time.”

--

He watches them go. She and the girl who so resembles Master Alphinaud. They wait til they are well out of sight of the memorial before saddling back up. Of course they do not know he can still see them, but Haurchefant appreciates the gesture all the same. 

That night she sits for a few moments at the bedside of each of her fallen friends. She talks a little to each one. Smooths hair off of foreheads, gently clasps hands in her own. His dearest, his love- in this moment neither goddess nor queen, but simply the kindest soul he’s known.

When she goes at last to her own chamber, she lays down her head on the pillow and turns off the light. She does not sleep, though. Not for almost a bell.

‘Be at peace, love,’ he whispers, though he knows she cannot hear. 

He blows her a kiss, and her eyes finally drift shut. 

[n-esryn]

LFRP PROFILE — N’esryn Elizabeth Des’Rosiers

CHARACTER INFO –––

Ethnicity: one forth Midlander & Elezen, Half Seeker of The Sun

Nationality: Ishgardian

Worshiped Deity:  Halone, Goddess of war

Profession: Chirurgeon

Age: 20+

Name Day: First Astral Moon 27th Sun

Height: 5′1′’

Sexuality: Asexual

Hair: Light Honey Brown, mid-shoulder length, layered either in a side low ponytail/braid or in a bun when she is working.

Eyes: Pale Pink (wears red eye shadow along the corners of her eyes)

Complexion: Ivory, with dusty rose lips and a slight dusting of soft pink along her cheeks.

Personality: She often seems like she is in a constant state of solemn calmness or as if she is in mourning.Yet her overall aura projects a subtle hint of a motherly kindness. Choosing to keep her emotions under control, you’ll probably muster out an occasional small smile from her. Be it brief, she’ll offer as much moral support and care she can that is within her power to keep a wounded knight/soldier at ease.  

Scars/Birthmarks: N’esryn has a medium length horizontal deep scar across her left cheek. Its usually hidden by some of her hair that frame her face. As for birthmarks, she has a few small ones that speckle her neck and one along her jawline.

Tattoos: she has one small horizontal white crescent shaped tattoo on her upper right cheek, just below her eye (probably as a tradition of the Aldgoat tribe N’esryn’s mother place that on her).

Apparel: N’esryn can be seen using a full black company tabard in her down time when she is off duty as a Chirurgeon. However she wears the Chirurgeon issued uniform when she is at work (she probably wears the company tabard below the robes). She also wears the full plate and chain mail armor with shield, when she is stationed at the Temple Knight Infirmary or when she is assigned to aid the knights in the front lines. Other from that she wears appropriate outfits suitable for the cold weather in Ishgard or Coerthas.

RELATIONSHIPS –––

Material Status: Single (too work focused to think of getting into a relationship)

Parents:  Father—Cyril Gaspard Des’Rosiers (♰) Mother—N’esryn Larho (♰)

Known Relatives: Great Uncle– Count Baurendouin de Haillenarte, Cousins — Stephanivien de Haillenarte, Chlodebaimt de Haillenarte, Aurvael de Haillenarte,Francel de Haillenarte and Laniatte de Haillenarte.

Acquaintances: Bodyguard/civil friendship with her Keeper of the Moon retainer S’ano.  

Pets: Fatter Cat named Gary

RUMOURS –––

Ward of High House Haillenarte, she is neither spoken of or does not exist within the Family’s ranks. N’esryn was raised in secret along side her cousins of House Haillenarte. Due to so many accusations of heresy put upon Haillenarte, the young Miqo’te’s existence was kept in secret.

Forgotten House, Either little known or not mentioned at all—House Des’Rosiers is a small branch of the once respected High House Haillenarte of Ishgard. While the main branch focused on weapon production such as canons etc.—House Des’Rosiers stood behind the scenes and focused on importing supplies for the production of steel and other goods.

Intermingling among non Elezen, House Des’Rosiers is a lesser or smaller branch off of the High House Haillenarte. Because they are a lesser noble house, martial affairs/arrangements aren’t as strict.

Illegitimate heir? Due to the fact N’esryn was born under rare circumstances—her father’s family were more or less reluctant to care for young N’esryn in his absence. Being called to serve as a knight once again for the protection of Ishgard, he begged his great uncle to care for his child. (a few years before the Calamity and fall of Stone Vigil)

Last of Her House, the only child and heir to house Des’Rosiers.(Her father claimed her as his heir—ultimately legitimizing her to whatever claim to wealth and land was hers by birthright).

Etiquette, as is her birthright, N’esryn was given an education suitable for a lady. Like ways of the court, how to act, how to sit, keep conversation as well as well versed on history, politics, economy and language (she does needle point in her spare time when she isn’t working or knits).

MORE INFO  –––  

Conjurer — While N'esryn is a proficient Chirurgeon, she is a capable to preform Ishgardian conjury in order to heal the knights or wounded soldiers that are out fighting in the front lines.  

You are safe — After losing her father when Stone Vigil was overrun by the Dravanian Horde, N’esryn decided to become a Chirurgeon. Learning what she could about alchemy to provide healing elixirs, or potions for the wounded knights or the ailing poor who wander about foundation. Though she is a qualified Chirurgeon, she is often stationed to assist the main Chirurgeon in different areas of Coerthas (wherever she is needed the most)—wheather it is in Temple Knight Infirmary, Whitebrim, Falcon’s Nest, Camp Cloud top or Camp Dragonhead.

Aether — N’esryn is aether sensitive, and becomes rather weak or sick when she comes across corrupted aether.

An old trinket — N’esryn’s prized possession is a book her Father gave her before leaving her to the care of his great uncle. It’s more than likely a book of either old poems, or Shakespearean stories.

RP HOOKS –––-

DO YOU NEED HEALING? — N’esryn is usually found in the Coerthas central Highlands tending to the wounded. From time to time you’ll find her in Foundation caring for the sick or severely wounded at the Temple Knight Infirmary.

Field Medic --- After the Calamity, Ishgard was left vulnerable to oncoming Dravanian Hoard attacks. Because of this, most of the Chirurgeons capable of preforming healing spells are recruited into the Temple Knights when needed. N’esryn being those few Chirurgeons sent into the front lines to apply emergency healing or first aid to wounded knights.

Eyes downcast — Often when she is able to return to Ishgard for work, she is overlooking the vast snow covered mountain range near The Last Vigil or turned to the direction of Stone Vigil—probably in deep thought or taking in the quiet stillness of the cold wind and snowfall.

Alchemy — She is constantly gathering supplies to create healing potions or elixirs.Or testing to find the right chemical balance to create stronger healing potions. (she is almost always reading or taking notes whenever an idea comes to mind)

Winter Rose — N’esryn very much remembers when Coerthas use to be lush and green. Within a journal she keeps, she has dried pressed flowers between a few pages. They were small wild flowers her father would send her in his letters before the Calamity.

Unknown Origins — N’esryn has very little memories of her mother before she died. All of what she knows of her mother is what her father has told her through letters or from the short time they were together. All she knows is that she shares her mother’s name and that she too was a Miqo’te. With that being said N’esryn knows nothing of the traditions of a Seeker of The Sun Miqo’te nor anything that has to do with any Miqo’te history besides the general history within books.

RPer INFO  –––

FFXIV Server: Mateus

Please note this is a side blog of my personal, if you choose to follow me on this blog I will be following back via pockethealer. <3

I will not do any ERP with N’esryn. I’m still on the fence of shipping her or not, so for right now she is Unshippable unless I feel comfortable enough to see the ship through. I mostly prefer slow burn ships but whatever happens happens.

I will RP dark themes, serious, friendships and funny rps—-oh and just casual fun lighthearted RPs with just banter.

More information can be found in my RULES page within my blog~

[toadeyes-miqote]

KWEH-HEH!!!

Yes I came all this way to show this to you.

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

She do be looking rather intimidating.

Took me this long to realise I have to physically claim achievement rewards from the log.

Wasn't part of Horse Heavensturn 2014 so she was spared the personal steed remark. so some times when the mood hits, she would return to Camp Dragonhead and show off a new mount, glamour or weapon. And then check in on Emmanellain.

Their unfortunate relationship before the Vault? Almost like this. She keeps him at Arm's Length(pun intended) as she wasn't able to go the direction that he would have liked. I think it was liken to giving up her missing mate and accepting that the poor guy might be dead.

If dude survived the Vault and Heavensward, there might have been a relationship upgrade until if and when her mate pops up again.

Oh Maria~~~~~~ Not quite the route that Draco took, So please don't overthink and remember that Hylnyan is Mqio'te And you might end up in her harem~~~~~

The ones with romantic potential - Cid, Hauchefant, Leofard and Hien. That one tall elf over there in a group of medium height dudes. Highest chance of running away with Leofard. Ultimate would be running starting a relationship with Byakko.

Thancred is special but better off as a friend and mentor and is someone her main dude has to learn not to be jealous of. G'raha will only stand a chance if he views her as a person instead of the ideals of Heavensward personified.

[toadeyes-miqote]

Out in the snow

(Backdated to any timespot after Keeping the Flame Alive and In Search of Iceheart)

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat as his eyes adjust to dim firelight, he took in the empty crumpled bedsheets before him. So, he was alone with his dreams after all. It was that ungodly hour that was too early for one to be awake but he was unwilling to go back to bed alone.

Plodding to the window with the blankets over his shoulders, he noted that it was snowing lightly outside, he ignored the blanket when it slid off his shoulders as he cracked open the window a bit. Braving the cold air that assaulted his skin.

The watchfires dotted the courtyard, giving him a decent view beyond. He almost called out her name when he spotted her, leading her chocobo with a few packages strapped to its back. She was taking the road that would lead pass the Gates of Judgement and Whitebrim further down.

He knew full well she travels this early to avoid that godsdammed overgrown one-eyed thing that hunts travellers on the route to Whitebrim.

He heard tales from his men. Of how she fended off that creature as part of a large band of adventurers that was out to make decent coin from well-paying traveling merchant caravans that intend to visit Whitebrim. He smiled, remembering how he had seen her fight on occasions.

Looking no taller than a half grown Elezen maid, fighting with bow or with blades, calling lightning and flame to her aid. Weaving in and out of a hungry gooblue’s reach or the talons of Dravanian raiders. Her courage and ferocity in battle would put a full gown Ishgardian knight to shame if he could not rouse himself to fight by her side

And here he stands like a pining maid for not daring to go out after to her now, wishing helplessly that she would just look back and see him and what he could offer her. But all he could do was watch her trudged out into the night. He made a prayer to Halone to keep his Green Huntress’ aim true and her blades sharp so that she would come back to him safely.

----------

Note – Full height Miqo’te is about a head taller than the resident half grown Elezen maid and lad. My headcannon was that because of how young Miqo’te WoL(+ natural Miqo’te charms, she’s 22 at start of game) tend to look to the taller races, certain folks felt a need to fight by her side or defend her. You can actually blame Estinien treatment of Alphinuad for cementing this notion.

And she kinda fits in a certain folklore way about young maidens following their lovers into battle or seeking someone trapped in the battlefield etc. Ishgard loves their tragic literature(thrown in Monstrous Regiment if you like). Ishgard Weaver quest~~~~

Half grown Elezen maid may be very annoyed with folks using her as a stereotypical comparison by now. And Haurcherfant gave me plenty of these little shots to work with. He has a compilation of his own, would be transcribing a few.

Dude spent a good chunk of his time watching over her and made it his business after the Vault that certain folks on the other side had to throw the rules at him. Mostly Ysayle if not Moenbryda getting him in a headlock.

Headcannon had it that the six of them are hanging out in their private little corner of the Aetherial Sea courtesy of Hydaelyn. And that they're the team from the other side. Just in case.

Am not changing my Chocobo back to yellow just for this.

[toadeyes-miqote]

Duty complete

There will be no song, no claiming of trophies, no glorious tales of battle to tell by the campfire’s light for G’raha, Sadu and her Bard Boys.

He will never be her rival, there is nothing glorious in this fight.

She remained calm as he taunted and postured before her. For one who styles himself a hunter, he was no different from the rogue trophy hunters she stopped in Tailfeathers. No one had the right to turn her into something she is not.

T'kebbe and her late parents’ quest for the elite marks sprang to mind as she avoided his strikes to wear him down. Already she was going through the manoeuvres learned in life for such a situation. he was no different from a rabid beast who had developed a taste for man’s blood.

Ignoring the pain as she returned strike for strike, thoughts of Thancred and his girls sprang to mind. What the young ones had achieved in The Empty. There was so much to look forward to. The pride on his face whenever he read their letters. Thancred can lecture her on her foolhardiness all he wants later.

A certain calmness in knowing that Alisaie will not have to pick up the fight where she left off is good enough for her. Her good kiddo will have a full life of great potential before her.

She thought of her mate and that wherever he might be, Zenos will not be a threat anymore and the rest was easy. It was no different from the one hunt in which she was separated from her Huntsmates and was cornered by a maddened beast that she had to take down.

It would be most heartening to introduce her mate to her brothers and sisters-in-arms and let them feast upon the simple pleasures of forest Miqo’te hospitality.

But for this hunt, there will be no song, no claiming of trophies, no glorious tales of battle to tell by the campfire’s light. Only the duty of a hunter taking down a rabid beast and keeping the forest safe for all. For her it was only a duty to complete, to survive, to go home, to complete …..

-----

The feeling of being back in Camp Dragonhead swept over her. Crackling fire within the warm stone walls of Haurchefant’s office even as a blizzard assaults the fortress from outside, the feeling of his ever watchful eyes on her.

Vaguely she thought she heard his excited sing-song voice calling her name before a twinge of panic took over his voice, pleading her to wake. There were others with him.. familiar to her …. Pleading with someone?...

"...My green huntress.....then live for.... instead... .. The one you seek, isn't here..." she heard Haurchefant whispered in her ear. Why does he sound like he was crying?

“....If indeed you deem her the soul of your late friend reincarnated.... then help her…. Please.... She has done so much and yet ask for so little.” Was he just behind her?

“Oh come now. Surely you did not tease her with all those locations only to let her to shuffle off in this mortal coil? It would be an irresponsible way to hand your duties over to her. Your descendent was responsible for the state she’s in now.”

An annoyed hiss coming from a little distance away was what she vaguely heard, a clear authoritative snap of the fingers followed...

-----

…Vaguely she caught Thancred’s scent and a sense of controlled calm in his voice.

“..Nyan…cred?...” her voice slurred.

“..keep talking….. voice draws…. back…” There was a twinge of panic in G’raha’s scent before a sense of control that took over when he uses his exarch’s voice. Was he summoning her again?

“You can’t leave us….” Why was Alisaie crying?

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

One run! Right hook of Ishgard!! Or is that the Miqo'te uppercut!!. The lady herself as bard. I’m satisfied that I don’t have to gunbreak for this like I did Venat. I don’t have to rewrite! Monk was lvl 50 so yeah. Thank you Sabin Prince of Punch.

I get the general feeling that my Miqo’te has no idea what the hells he’s getting on about. Her values are just different and all he presented was essentially a threat to the ones that surround her.

Satisfy him once and more he would demand. He’s already making threats and doing whatever he doing to make Krile divulge WoL’s location. If Krile dosen’t divulge, who else would he harm to get information? Tataru? What odds that he realise that killing those close to her would allow her to fight him in her full fury?

How many people will die in a futile attempt to to stop him from storming the Mother Crystal. How many are strong enough to take him on and still more or less survive?

That whole hunter-prey thing got turned around in this. He’s naught but a rabid beast that had develop a taste for her blood. It bookends things for me due to the background I gave her.

Oh and cleaning up Emet’s mess, the lady understands this as being a ranger/warden (Added bonus that being Gridanian starter sits well enough for her). Meteor and Ardbert are the fighters, this shard is a hunter who understands balance and a need to cull. 

I can’t even compare him to Gouki who can fight other people when he’s not fighting Ryu. Iori Yagami maybe?

I made my Miqo’te shadowbox him in gpose…. It looks like an uppercut to the nut, since she’s only waist height to him. Not giving him the satisfaction of screenshotting it. Unlike Snake vs Ocelot, didn't get to press buttons.

Had something for the Aetherial sea. but didn't work out so retained fragments. Also didn't get comatose carry ala Shadowbringer breakdown so meh it.

The whole thing was one side with Haurchefant cradling her exhuasted soul and the others surrounding her in the Aetherial sea(don't ask). Pleading with Hades to help her somehow. On the life side Thancred was carrying her off somewhere for G'raha to do the healing, with Estinien lugging Y'sthola and Urianger like luggage to whereever it was they were to do the healing. The quartet are stupidly close to her, it could be a physical fighters kind of thing.

I like the artworks that some folks done but I accept things as is for mine own. she ended up sleeping for a spell when back on old Sharlayan. The return unfortunately wasn't as gloriously as folks hope it to be. She was barely awake and riding piggy back on Thancred(Thancred mount!), G'raha was keeping one hand on her to ease her pain. Not sure why not princess carry though.

And the quartet took turns to watch over her so that she won't wake alone. Thancred would likely be sitting by her bed since he has no duties to report that Alphinaud and the others can't handle. Estinien would be quietly sitting by the door barring entry from unnecessary visitors(anyone not a Scion or a healer unless Thancred says otherwise). G'raha won't leave her side, constantly pumping aether for healing and easing her pain. Alisaie would be staying until Alphinaud has to drag her home and she made the three guys swear not to let her wake alone.

"Lecture me all you want. Papa."

Its likely the tone of his voice being at a very comforting frequency to her Miqo'te ears. that and he's probably the only veteran Scion who acknowledge her as a person and a hero at the same time.

Possibly treating her in the way he hopes Ryne be treated. Having close friends and stuff. Estinien comes close. Alisaie would need a few more life experience. G'raha needs to know her as a person and not the hero he read from the books, else she keeps him at arm's length.

[toadeyes-miqote]

Of books, opera and ballad

For me there are 4 in total.

Heavensward by Lord Edmont

2.

The Green Huntress of Camp Dragonhead (the epic and battle ballad) by the Fortemps lads, Guydelot(miner and bard quest happend during that time) and Tataru(as if she's gonna give up the rights of marketing WoL's name, she was part of the story). The soldiers and boys love this one because of the fights.

Opera version performed by the Majestic Imperial Theater Company requires the one playing the WoL to be highly acrobatic.

The Mujikoza in Kugane would like to adapt this for Kabuki. Guydulot and Sanson had gone over to understand the artstyle and see how adaptation can be done. Meanwhile Tataru is collecting royalties for the Kabuki of The Flooding of Doma Castle

Tataru states that anything involving the WoL, the Scions and now Estinien is her jurisdiction

3.

The Green Lady of Camp Dragonhead (romance ballad written by the same team). the lowborn, women (noble and commoners) loved this one because of its tragic courtship and the fact that a commoner like the WoL caught attention of a bastard lord and knight commander, they identify with the theme.

(almost sounds like Aymeric is looking after Hylnyan for Haucherfant's sake. OMG unintended drama from miswording)

That whole bundling her back to Ishgard because of a conspiracy was seen as a noble not leaving his "paramour" in peril. Extending protection to the half grown Elezen boy was seen as said Lord not forcing a governess to abandon her young charge. Contains the lesser known ballad of Iceheart of the Azure Dragoon.

They also love the fact that House Fortemps adopted her. a ward has more rights than a mere "mistress". Although there were two DOL and three DOH guild links, Adder Officer and Archery Guild ties and guarantee of good behavior, along with Steps of Faith and Lady Iceheart incidents (Aymeric throwing his weight in), that caught the Church’s attention and speeded things up a little in hopes of using her against the Church’s enemies.

Serious marketing drill

"Come! Comes get your Fen Yll-Sunsilk collab souvenir!! Kakarul fleece Miqo'te ears and tail!!! If yours have the Toadeyes Miqo'te emblem, you know the Green Lady herself made one or two pieces in her free time!!! These aren't just any Kakarul fleece, these are 100% Coerthan Kakarul fleece from Camp Dragonhead!! Want more?! Elde of Jeweled Cozier has a collaboration line with the Saviour of Ishgard herself! A line of light weight armour approved by the Temple knights!"

"Still want more?! Take up archery!! The lady herself is a hunter from the Shrouds! Visit the Archery Guild in Gridania for archery workshop!!!"

Want vacation? "Come stay at Fallgourd Float, the area near where the lady might have originated from. Let the Miqo'te scout take you on a tour to see the forest where she might have grown up! Live like a Moon Miqo'te hunter for a week or so! Ride the Etcatl Nine airship to Hyrstmill for the finest kettles!"

And since she does do leves, there are some Camp Dragonhead and Whitebrim folks who do own gear with her trademark. Camp Dragonhead in particular considered it their Green Lady's blessing akin to her fighting alongside them or a reminder to focus.

Her official title is The Green Huntress, some still refers to her as Lady and the term is interchangable unofficially.

4.

The Toad eyes(pool? can't translate cobalt preserves) Huntsongs compiled and partially translated by T. Waters, C. Garlond, A. Leveilleur(Ms), H.Greystone, G.Thildonnet, S.Smyth, L. Aliapoh, M. Molkot.

The one thought to be her journal in hunt song format. Difficult to translate as the translators could not pinpoint the exact dialect other than somewhere off Fallgourd Float. Difficult to compile as the songs were recorded and transcibed by ear without the subject's knowledge or the chief compilers' familiarity with her dialect.

Authenticity to the songs could only be confirmed by the identity of the compilers of said songs. Expends on the ballad of Iceheart of the Azure Dragoon People she considers her huntsmates(as of mid Shadowbringers) and identifiable were given name here. Bow Sister, Keen Blade, Tinker, Mist Blade, Blade Sister, Little Lightning Some others were named - Brother of the Wind, The Elder one, Star bird, Lady of Light, Speaker of Nonsense, Hidden One

A small piece. Which of the lads wrote this in?

To the low born it did not matter if she was Miqo’te or foreign born, what matter was she defied the Church and cruelty of the Heavens ward. It matters not to them that she was the Warrior of Light who faced monstrosities. What mattered was that she was a vulnerable woman targeted by men in power and that she had fought to defend a half-grown boy and a Lalafell who seem like a mere child. Hers was a story that had been oft repeated in Ishgard’s dark history, one with many endings. Like them, she survived. Like her they want to survive and live their lives without fear.

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

Need to get to the story behind how this "painting" was commissioned and who painted it. The three idiots were practically up on the roof and freezing their asses off.

[dragons-bones]

Sweets for the Sweet

It felt good to set foot in a proper kitchen again after walking all over the Coerthas Highlands for a week. Every floorboard was familiar, all of the utensils in their place. She can’t help but smile a little as she sets the bag full of ingredients down, breathing deep to fill up her lungs with the smell of home.

The hearth crackles welcomingly in a few minutes, bringing the warmth back into her cheeks. She leaves her sword by the counter next to her shield, strips off the mail and leather gloves and sets about dragging a step stool over to the higher cabinets. Pulling down what she needs, she hooks her foot around one of the stool’s legs and pulls it along to the counter by the stove.

A pity that no one had been able to keep any liqueur in stock, but Haurchefant had been quick to improvise.

Bless him, Luli thought fondly as she got the stove warmed up. Perhaps if everyone in Ishgard had half a heart so big there wouldn’t be half the problems to deal with in the world.

The thought of the Temple Knights tripping over themselves to be friendly to anyone was enough to make her laugh - a good start to baking, honestly. Always better to start with a smile than a frown. She found the pan and spoons she needed and began to gingerly crush the cookies she’d bought. With a little heated butter she could mold them into a crust and let it cool down.

Hopping off the stool she reclaimed her bag and began digging through It, setting first one, then two, boxes of ice cream beside the pan. Beside it she carefully set the bottle of mint syrup, smiling when Haurchefant’s face came to mind.

She’d have to come up with a way to thank him for all his help at Camp Dragonhead.

Cutting the ice cream proved easier after heating up a knife and she mixed it with some melted chocolate from the stove before adding in a few drops of the syrup. The room felt comfortable now, two fires pushing back the Ishgardian cold and she was very close to humming as she mixed the filling.

A little trill answered the first couple of notes that escaped, making her pause. Turning her head she stared, slack jawed for a moment, at the emerald carbuncle sitting primly in the door of her kitchen. A very pretty one it was - tails all settled around it like a Lady’s skirts. Big lovely eyes that practically begged for attention.

“Hello.” Luli smiled, pushing the bowl up onto the counter. She hopped off the stool and brushed cookie crumbs from her shirt. “Are you lost, luv? Not many carbuncles around here. I bet your mum or dad would miss one as pretty as you.”

The carbuncle trilled again, ducking its head in a way that seemed bashful. Luli strained to see out into the common room, perplexed when no arcanist could be seen. She wasn’t terribly familiar with the art - or the beautiful creatures of aether that arcanists employed as assistants. Glancing at the demure intruder again she tried to pluck up a smile.

“Cold, is it? Well, you wouldn’t be the first to amble in wanting away from the chill.” Reaching out, she offered a hand for the carbuncle to sniff.

Dark eyes blinked, seeming wider now than they had been moments ago. But the little one leaned forward, nose twitching. It’s ears perked and all of its attention went to the counter behind Luli. A quiet little “myaa” emerged, the look in the carbuncle’s eyes turning pleading.

She knew that look. Even if she didn’t know much about creatures of magic and aether, the begging stare was a classic.

Could carbuncles even eat? Did they have stomachs? Surely there might be something she could offer the little one until its master came back?

Luli felt her heart melt a little. “Alright, alright. I’ll find you something. Hop up and you can watch me finish this pie first.”

The carbuncle let out an excited squeak and hopped up onto the highest part if the counter, leaning to watch her with curious interest. Luli grinned, climbing back onto the stool to resume mixing the filling. The ice cream had softened, which made it easier to stir. Once it was done she picked up a tiny spoon to do a taste test, relaxing as the flavor spread across her tongue.

She’d worried about the lack of proper ingredients, but the syrup was a good stand in. Looking up at her guest she dipped a new spoon into the mixture, standing on her tip toes to offer it up to the wide eyed carbuncle.

“A little taste won’t hurt you, right luv?”

Her new friend eagerly lapped at the filling, almost in danger of toppling from their perch. Reaching out with both front paws the carbuncle snagged it from her hand, pulling it closer so every bit of sweetness could be eaten up.

Luli chuckled at the sight, pouring the filling into the pan. She set the bowl and spoon aside, amused when her guest clambered down to stick their whole head into the bowl with the most delighted sound she’d ever heard. Thick green tails swayed excitedly, prouder than any soldier’s banner.

“You must give your mum or dad a lot of trouble, huh?” She asked, digging an ice crystal out of the pouch at her side. A distracted squeak answered her and she laughed. The crystal chilled the pie faster than her icebox would have, which left only making the topping.

Some drizzled chocolate over a layer of whipped cream and she stared proudly down at it, hands on her hips. Her guest emerged from the bowl an absolute mess, trilling happily despite the sticky sugar covering their fur. Dark eyes turned to the completed pie and widened, tails beginning to sway once again.

“Myaa?”

“Oh no you don’t.” Luli gingerly slid the mostly clean bowl away from the carbuncle, setting it in front of the pie like a shield. “You’re a mess and I can’t have you go back home looking like that. You’ve been nice company so I’ll make good on my promise to give you something sweet.”

She raised a finger in warning, “But only if you leave that pie alone. It’s for a good friend of mine.”

Large ears folded, tails drooping at her words. Somehow the little beast managed to look like the very picture of sadness and make her feel as though she’d kicked a pup.

“Don’t give me that.” Luli sighed, leaning to reach for a clean rag. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Be good and I might have a few tarts you can munch on.”

The carbuncle perked up at that. She wet the rag at the sink and carefully scrubbed at glossy emerald fur, marveling over how so much energy could stay in one form. And how that form could get so messy.

“If you come around again sometime I’ll make you a pie all for yourself.” Luli mused, gently stroking the carbuncle’s head. “It’s nice to have someone around that don’t cause trouble.”

A trill like wind chimes answered her and her guest sat neat and prim once more, blinking hopefully. She smiled, tossing the rag into the sink.

“All right. As agreed, let’s get those tarts.”

———–

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUUUUUUUUUUUYS LOOK AT WHAT @glyphenthusiast WROTE FOR ME

oh my god I am dead this is amazing Galette you shameless pig omg so perfect

*furiously cuddles ficlet* THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE IT