#I Bare Words from the Heart and a Will to Speak Them || Starter ||

[equescaeli]

@origami-assassin || 𝐿𝐼𝒦𝐸𝒟 for a 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒯𝐸𝑅

Another day, another report; uncomfortable numbers of losses reaching his eyes as he scanned carefully penned numbers and estimates and with each sentence did his heart fall further within his chest.

When would it end? The overwhelming grief that nigh consumed him become more difficult to ignore with each passing day and carrying further woe into each bout of battle meant his mind was distracted when it ought be focused. Ah- but how could one push it aside? - when one only wanted peace and what was for the best of his people of whom suffered whether they were actively at war or braving the affects back home.

Thoughts that eve were mercifully derailed, however, when the report of an unrecognised figure reached him. He stands from his seat, booted feet quiet to pace across the boarded floors of his tent ere he steps foot outdoors, upon uneven terrain.

It takes him little time at all to manoeuvre his way through the encampment to where the reports were sourced and once there did he ask those of his Dragoons that lingered nearby to leave. Why? Unrecognised figures and people were to be treated cautiously for one never knew what they were dealing with and Dion would rather approach kindly than invoke wrath in which could have been avoided.

Too many had been lost, already; they needed no more.

Thus, he chooses to sit himself upon a rock some short way away, unarmed and for a moment merely watches, choosing his words carefully;

"...are you lost?"

[dryadalismagicae]

@aetherianxarchive / @luna-mxth || LIKED for a STARTER with Vexx

"I ain' slept in nearly three days, I don' have the patience to listen to this bullshit." He yawns, rolling aching shoulders and rubbing at his eyes. The youth scarce knows what to do with himself - so far from his clan as he is - uncertain and yet willing to continue as he is. "If y' want me t' do something- then jus' say so."

[hautevaux]

@poeticphoenix || STARTER-!

"Oh, sweets- how glad I am to see you--" Vaux's hand extends towards his company, head pressed against his shoulder; 't is clear he is riddled with discomfort, uneasy 'pon his legs and lightly trembling; "--- I hate to ask but, do you have time to walk me home? I don't live far... I simply fear I may just fall if I continue alone---"

[milesducemdominus]

@kitty-highball || LIKED for a STARTER with Ferrien

Exhaustion, mental fatigue; not massively new attributes for the Lord Commander given his busy and stress filled lifestyle but ones that had been plaguing him far more lately than they had been prior. Aches and pains belonging to old injuries had begun to worsen, lack of sleep or vicious nightmares near overwhelming and yet onward did Aymeric push himself.

That night had been no different; social gatherings were common, and given his position it was expected of him to attend - - and so he did.

Upon his return home, however, did Aymeric not head straight upstairs to his bed where he would relax but instead paced into the study where he removed his jacket, untied his cravat and simply laid himself down upon the couch in front of the dwindling fire.

The tiredness in which now gripped the very marrow of his bones was overwhelming, the inability to settle into a comforting sleep detrimental to his apparent decline - thus, Aymeric simply sits. He sits and he allows his gaze to fixate upon the flicker of very low flames and their shapes, under the assumption that his two staff members were already at rest but such was proven wrong when the long shadow of a tall male cast across the floor from the door.

"Ferrien." He uttered, raising a hand to rub at his eyes idly; "--I though you'd be asleep by this hour."

[speciosuspoematis]

@starsasunder || ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​ ​🇦​ ​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​ 🇼​​🇮​​🇹​​🇭​ ​🇨​​🇾​​🇻​​🇪​​🇱​

"Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he is only sad." His fingertips brush the notebook within his fingers and turn his pale gaze towards his company - unexpected but no less welcome.

The confines of the Scholasticate's library were beautiful in their own rights- bookcases of great age and decoration laden with tomes but it is the desk in which the poet lingers at where he finally receives a book he had ordered months prior - - excitement clear in his otherwise melancholic features.

"Books, in the very least, offer no judgement." He picks up his selected one and holds it tucked against his chest.

[congregenturanimarum]

@soulsalight || LIKED for a STARTER with Leofard for Jacke

He was always a target for events going sour, wasn't he?

The long and arduous trail that had been left behind a missing shipment that ought have reached the Parrock some days prior had, eventually, lead to what he had assumed to have been a civilian attempting to earn themselves some extra Gil.

Bravado had lead Leofard to travel alone; his journey to Limsa Lominsa entirely uneventful but once pacing the city proper did he come to realise that the fellow in question was not a civilian under the beck and call of a thieving bastard, but instead a Yellowjacket.

Posed upon a crossroads, Leofard was met with the decision to either head homeward and get some backup ere approaching, or he could just throw himself into the situation entirely and not take a blow to his ego.

Choosing the latter, his confrontation came swiftly - -usual cockiness leading his accusations. He'd not betted on the scoundrel being backed up by his equally corrupt surrounding fellows - yellow appearing to draw out of the very stone and woodwork around them.

With all turning sour, swiftly, his consciousness turned quite immediately to an escape plan; already was the captain in far too deep to simply walk off and thus a plan was needed.

Stacia was never going to let him live this down-

A few booted steps were taken backwards, a grin growing across his expression and with immense swiftness did he grab a passer-by by the scruff of his neck and drew his weapon to press to his temple. Hostage taking wasn't usually his style - but desperate situations begged for new attempts and so Leofard stuck to his guns.

"Y' gonna let me go or babyface here'll become compost."

[sanguinepeccatorum]

@phoenixblessing || ＬＩＫＥＤ for a ＳＴＡＲＴＥＲ

Naught is spoken as the stranger approaches and offers forth a waterskin - the vicious sanguine of his eyes briefly turning upward and towards the heavens of which threatened the most ominous downpour of rain.

"You're sick and the road is long - - are you certain you ought be travelling as you are?" He knows not of whom he speaks to, (they were simply heading in the same direction) and though he is entirely reserved, there is concern laced through the low tones of his voice. "The pending rain will be relentless."

[nobilismiles]

@deathlockes || LIKED for a STARTER

"Well, well- if it isn't a familiar and yet entirely unexpected visitor---" He crosses one leg over the other, leans back idly within his chair and offers up a rather cheeky smile. "--and what can I do for you today, hm-? We've some cake if you're peckish-? Unless you've an ulterior motive for coming by-?"

[sanctummiles]

@azure-seadragon || LIKED for a Valentines Starter

Valentione's was one of the many holidays in which Guerrique had never taken much interest in; the knight had spent most of his life thus far locked in his knightly duties- until lately. The decoration had, for the first time, caught his eye that year and although he had absolutely no interest in partaking in any way, his dear little brother insisted he at least try and get in the spirit of things.

"Happy whatever-" He utters as he returns home, tossing a box of chocolates towards his apparent Au'Ra lodger of whom was blissfully lounged upon the couch, before the roaring fire of the study.

There. He had parttook.

[ferrumumbra]

@phoenixshards || STARTER

Not long had passed since heavy rains had ceased falling from the heavens, puddles strewn across cobbled ground uneven and likely cleaner than nearby well water. Folk bustled in and out of stores and inns, their shelter and warmth only offered to those of whom carried coin or the ability to barter with goods - - and those without simply suffered.

Cold, emaciated and far beyond hungry, one particular male sticks to the darkness of an alleyway that poised itself between the rooms of an inn and a warehouse full of grain, seeking a momentary reprieve from busy streets and people who do naught more than glare and judge.

He's lithe in body as he finally sits down, taking his weight off aching feet to take a break but not once does a hand alleviate its grip 'pon the butterfly knife within his pocket, protection always first and foremost within his mind for the streets were unforgiving at best.

"Y' better off jus' movin' on." He utters, voice gravelly, his peripheral vision taking note of another's presence; "Unless y' come t' stare. In which case hurry up n' fuck off."

[captianimarum]

@darksonofsparda || 𝕃𝕀𝕂𝔼𝔻 for a 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋𝔼ℝ

"And what in the fuck do you want-?" The lithe greeting rolled easily from his tongue, eyes and attention fixated upon the firearm within his grip as opposed to the company now standing within his presence. "-My other arm, maybe-?"

[equescaeli]

@flamesofrebirths || 𝕃𝕀𝕂𝔼𝔻 for a 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋𝔼ℝ

“There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.”

[dryadalismagicae]

@aetherianxarchive / @luna-mxth || LIKED for a STARTER with Senreth

"You needn't worry." Becoming injured during a quick skirmish was expected, given the circumstances; the bleeding of his arm rather profuse due to the depths of the slash, pain felt enough to grit teeth, and yet he know it need not be tended for it would heal itself over in days.

'T was not a subject in which he ought broach, however; his condition was the most vicious of secrecy.

"I'm sure I can sort it later, truly-"

[hautevaux]

@draikoeques || STARTER!

"I think I ought head home-"He utters, hands poised either side of his head, cradling it. "Do you have time to walk with me, darling? I'm feeling terribly unwell-"

[milesducemdominus]

@brightblessed || PLOTTED STARTER

It wasn't supposed to end this way - - not today - -

He can feel it, the biting cold that soaks into the marrow of his bones and settles deep within his core. Blurred vision notes very little as armoured boots stagger forward, scuffing against disturbed earth already scorched by nearby magitek fires and the panicked hurrying of soldiers.

Just a little further- The dainty voice within his head whispers, the reassurance falling flat while a hand presses ever more firmly against a wound to his side; blue fabric stained viciously red, the broken nature of his mail clinking as he sways unsteadily. Even now, as his ears begin to force sounds to seem as if they are beneath fathoms of water, can he hear explosions and battle cries, the exclamations of agony and the sudden silence that came mid-scream.

He couldn't help them- not like this.

Eyes, of blue as pale as the sky back home, briefly move to settle upon company as both attempted to trudge forth into the mouth of a nearby cave, to tend to vulgar injuries. Lips parted to offer Roi a small semblance of comfort and motivation but none had time to emerge for the crashing down of an airship not far behind sent a shockwave that took both off of their feet.

Was it seconds or moments that Aymeric was out cold? Was it, mayhap, longer? All he knew when he opened his eyes again was the agony to his side and the radiating pain that came from the woe of broken limbs and burned skin. 'T was almost entirely dark, too - - the cave mouth having succumbed to masses of rubble leaving only the cracks between to let in light. Entombed.

Its nigh agony for Aymeric to roll himself from beneath partial rubble to instead be upon his back; short sharp breaths accompany his short squeal of absolute discomfort, hand immediately returning to the slick surface of his clothing to attempt to slow the loss from his wound - - but he knows it goes too deep and he knows hes already feeling the affects of so much lost.

Even while facing the realness of his own mortality does he attempt to find purpose.

"...Roi-?" So small his voice sounds, still drowned out by the echoes of the battlefield beyond; lacking any command nor strength in which it would usually hold immensely. No- 't is clear Aymeric is scared, 't is clear he is tired and teetering on the very edge of the abyss between life and death and yet - - 't is also clear that he is not yet ready to give up, entirely.

"Are... you still with me-?" He's afraid of what the answer may be, or perhaps more afraid of the fact that no answer may come at all; and so he waits in silence and darkness.

[speciosuspoematis]

@voidtouched-blue || 🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​ ​🇦​ ​🇸​​🇹​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇼​​🇮​​🇹​​🇭​ ​🇨​​🇾​​🇻​​🇪​​🇱​

"I took, calmly, one majestic breath and fell in love with how you stripped away every year that I felt pain." He's entirely focused upon his notebook; reciting, aloud, the words that he has scrawled there in calligraphic script. He's nigh entirely unaware of his surroundings and those within it, his vicinity but a blur when his mind fixated 'pon verse he drew from the depths of his consciousness and dedicated unto paper to be contemplated later.

'T is with one final press of pen to paper that Cyvel finally raises his gaze and immediately takes note of a nearby presence, a softened flush of embarrassment overtaking the very tips of his elongated ears.

"Pray... do excuse me. I meant not to read aloud and disturb."