#It's Era's first time ever and Cid's first time with her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notgonnaedit · 4 months

Text

Healer's Heart

Common Ground

Summary: When Order 66 ushers in a new era, Althea and the Batch must find their place

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: A Separatist senator hires Cid to help him. The Batch, however (mainly Echo and Althea), don't like the Separatists

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, nothing really happens, Echo and Althea mother/daughter hate bonding (If I miss a tag LMK)

Master List

Senator Singh twisted his hands nervously as he stood up to address his people. He knew the Empire would punish him if he spoke out, but he couldn't stay silent. He owed it to his people to tell them the truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"How's the Mantell Mix, kid?" Wrecker asked the girl on his shoulder. The Batch was making their way back to Cid's parlor. Hunter's wound had healed and Omega was back with them, so the worry cloud over their heads and given them a break.

Omega nodded, her mouth full of the treat. "Mm-hmm." She took a few pieces and dropped them in Wrecker's mouth. "Better than ever."

"Yeah, it is." Laughed the demo man.

"So when's the next mission?" The blonde asked as she gave a handful of Mix to Althea.

Tech turned back as they walked. "With two bounty hunters after you, it's be wise to keep a low profile."

Hunter stopped, signaling that they had arrived. "Tech's right." He took Omega's arm and helped her down. "There's too much heat on us right now."

"Ha! That never stopped us before." Remarked Wrecker.

Hunter turned to him, lowering his voice. "The kid's been through enough. She needs a break." First the inhibitor chip incident, Crosshair attacking, and escaping two bounty hunters was enough to exhaust most adults. But Omega was still smiling and full of joy, almost like nothing had happened at all.

She stood by Echo, Tech, and Althea. The older girl was trying to get Echo to eat Mantell Mix. The ARC took a handful, sniffing it warily.

"She seems fine to me." Wrecker said as he looked at Omega.

Hunter knew that Omega looked fine, be she needed time to recover. After Althea had found her brother dead, she didn't talk, let alone eat, for almost a week. Even when she began to get back to normal, she still needed time. Hunter knew that they were different people, but Omega needed a break. They all did.

As they walked into the parlor, they found the familiar Trandoshan with a datapad in her clawed hand, her chin in the other.

"I've got a mission for you boys." She said as they sat down on the bar stools. "A simple extraction on Raxus."

"Raxus?" Tech asked. "That is the former center of the Separatist government. It has since become an Imperial outpost–"

"I'm no interested in a history lesson, Goggles." Cid snapped.

Althea folded her arms, a dark glare transforming her usually calm eyes into an amber storm.

"You're being hired to locate and free Senator Avi Singh from his confinement." Cid continued. "My client will meet you at the given coordinates to brief you. Details are on this–" She held a small data chip in her hand. "–Now get going."

She tossed the chip to Hunter, who caught it. He held it in his fist tightly. "Help a Separatist? Not gonna happen."

It wasn't a secret that all clones detested the Separatists, and not just because they were the enemy. The droid army had killed thousands of them. Echo had seen countless of his brothers dead. At first, it shook him. He wasn't just seeing a dead soldier, he was seeing someone who looked just like him. He saw his own face, cold and devoid of any life.

Over the course of the war, before he was captured by the Techno Union, Echo had lost so many brothers. Cutup, Droidbait, Hevy, 99, and many more. But the one that stuck with him the most was Fives. His brother, practically his twin some would say, had to watch the ARC die, had to go through all that time without him.

When Echo was recovering, Rex had informed him that Fives was killed on Coruscant after attempting to kill the Chancellor. Echo had been devastated, but after the clones betrayed the Jedi, he became enraged. Fives was right, and because of his death, hundreds across the galaxy were suffering at the hands of the Empire.

But Cid didn't know any of that and if she did she certainly wouldn't care. "Your debt's still not paid, remember?" She asked Hunter. "A job's a job."

Hunter stood and walked away, lowering his voice as to not gain his squad's attention. "I am not bringing Omega to a planet swarming with Imperials." He didn't want to bring Althea either, but he knew she could handle herself. Omega had just had a close call. He didn't want to risk losing her.

"So leave her here with me." Cid suggested. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Hunter narrowed his eyes. "I don't exactly trust you either."

"Good. You shouldn't." Cid snapped back. "But if keeping the kid safe means more money in my pocket, it's in my best interest to do so, isn't it?"

The Sergeant couldn't argue with her logic. "If anything happens to her..."

Cid rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Bandana. Just get outta here, will you?" She turned away, but then halted and looked back again. "And would you tell Bright Eyes to stop with the dirty looks? Kids these days, got no respect." She walked away, muttering to herself grouchily.

Hunter turned to Omega. The girl had slid off her seat and was slipping her new comm into the pouch on her bow strap. She looked up at him, a ready smile on her face. "Ready when you are, Sergeant." She said with a salute.

Hunter kneeled down. "Not this time, Omega. You're staying with Cid."

The girl's expression fell. "But th-the mission. I'm part of the squad too."

Hunter's hand rested on her shoulder. "Then following orders shouldn't be a problem. Got it, soldier." He gave her shoulder a squeeze and flashing a playful smile.

Omega didn't reciprocate, rolling her eyes and groaning. "Yes, sir."

Hunter nodded, standing and putting his helmet on. Althea walked by and ruffled Omega's hair, giving her a quick smile and shrug as if to say, "Can't argue when it comes to this. Trust me, I've tried."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Althea sat in the crash seats prepping her medical supplies. A dispute frown had stuck itself onto her face since she learned about the mission. Helping a Separatist. The words sounded foreign in her mind.

It was the Separatists that destroyed her life. They were the ones that killed her family.

A small tap on her shoulder brought Althea's attention to Echo. He stood by her, his expression similar to hers. "How're you handling it?"

The medic huffed as she closed her bag and stood. "Oh, I'm just chipper." She snarked.

Echo looked like he was biting back a laugh at her words. "Yeah, but we'll make it. Somehow."

Together they walked into the cockpit, Hunter and Wrecker behind them. Echo sat in the co-pilot's seat as usual, Althea leaning on the chair behind him. Hunter sat behind them, and Wrecker behind Tech.

"We've never been to Raxus before." Wrecker said.

Tech brought them out of hyperspace, revealing the new planet. "The coordinates from Cid have us landing just outside the capital city of Raxulon, the home of their Senate."

"I can't believe we're helping a Separatist senator." Echo griped.

"Ditto." Althea murmured.

"So you have said." Tech told them pointedly. "Repeatedly."

"I always thought we'd make it to Raxus someday." Hunter thought out loud. "But not like this."

As they entered the atmosphere, two V-wing fighters came on either side of them. "Unidentified transport, this is restricted airspace." Came a reg's voice. "Transmit your clearance codes."

Hunter stood, walking over to Althea and handing Tech the chip. "Input the codes from Cid's client."

Tech did as he said and a rapid beeping filled the tense air.

Althea shifted uneasily. "Hunter," She turned to the Sergeant behind her. "The client is a Separatist. How do we know this isn't a trap?"

The beeping stopped. "You're cleared for entry. Proceed." The fighters flew away, leaving them to land.

"Now are you convinced?" Tech asked.

"No." The ARC and medic synced, folding their arms grumpily.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Raxus was a painfully beautiful planet. A planet that housed Separatists didn't deserve to be gorgeous. Tall trees with orange and gold leaved covered the soft grass outside the capital.

Hunter took point as they exited the Marauder, his and everyone's blaster at the ready.

"I am simply stating that the codes did, in fact, work." Tech said to Althea and Echo. "The client being a Separatist is not relevant."

"It is to us." Echo snapped.

"Forget politics." Hunter ordered. "We're here to do a job."

"I am very pleased to hear you say that." A modulated voice said. A protocol droid walked out from behind a tree, her arms in the standard locked position.

"Who are you?" Asked Althea.

"I am your client."

Wrecker stood up straight, baffled. "We're working for a droid?" As if their day couldn't get any weirder.

The droid nodded. "That is correct. My master, Senator Singh, was arrested for speaking out against the unjust occupation–"

"We don't care." Althea said, squeezing her blaster.

"Just take us to where the senator's being held." Hunter ordered.

The droid nodded. "Right to it. I like you."

The droid, GS-8, led them around the city just outside a manor. They hid behind a purple bush as a walker tank made it's way through the streets.

"We have reached our destination." GS-8 said.

Tech pulled down his visor. "There are six exterior guards and multiple heat signatures inside. Four in the subterranean level."

Echo turned and slammed the droid against the wall. "Why do I get the feeling you're setting us up?"

"It is against my programming to send my allies into danger."

Wrecker came closer. "We ain't allies, tin bin."

"And we don't have a programming to stop us." Althea added as she gripped her blaster.

"Enough." Said Hunter. "We need to take out the compound's surveillance system. Move in."

They slunk around the manor, Hunter using his combat skills. They came to a corner where two guards stood on the other side. Hunter turned to GS-8. "Time to make yourself useful."

"I do not possess a military skill set for a tactical advantage." She argued.

"We're counting on it." The Sergeant shoved her into the view of the guards.

"You!" One shouted. "This is a restricted area!"

"To whom are you addressing?" She asked. "This is my master's residence. I suggest you leave before–" They came at her. "Oh, dear."

GS-8 ran back around the corner. When the guards chased after her, they were met with Wrecker's fists.

They snuck around more, finally reaching the main courtyard. Tech worked his magic at a terminal. "I am tapped into their security system." He said.

Hunter turned to Wrecker, Althea, and Echo. "You three, clear the upper levels. Tech, we'll take the main floor and below. Droid, you're sticking with me."

As they made their way through the halls, Althea, Wrecker, and Echo made quick work of any guard in the hall. The medic scoffed as she passed a tapestry on the wall. "All this wealth and they chose to destroy. It's disgraceful."

Echo looked at the tapestry, and Althea could practically hear his grimace. "If they had used this money to actually help others, there wouldn't have been a war in the first place."

Wrecker shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah...but where would that leave us?" He had their attention, and he continued. "I mean, if, if the war never happened, we wouldn't be here. A-and I know the Seppies have done bad things–" He glanced at Althea. "–But then we never would've met you, Thea."

The medic felt extremely guilty all of a sudden. She never knew Wrecker felt that way. She pulled down her mask so he could see her face. "You're right, Wrecker." She said. "The Seppies have done some pretty horrible things, but I guess some good came out of it." She flashed him a soft smile.

The demo man pushed up his helmet, revealing a grin. "Aw, Thea." He moved toward her, holstering his blaster in his pack.

"Wrecker, no–!" The girl couldn't get out her protest in time. The demo man scooped her up in a spine crushing hug.

She couldn't help but smile, though. The Separatists may have killed her family, but they also gave her a new one.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Tech, how much longer!?" Althea growled as she blasted at regs (using stun of course).

"I need more time!"

"You always say that."

Commandeering a walker was not something any of them planned to do, but then again, when did they plan anything?

Echo and Althea defended Tech and the senator as he repaired the walker. It was struck with heavy artillery and the axle was damaged. Hunter and Wrecker.

Finally, Tech finished the repairs just as Hunter and Wrecker came over from blowing up the other walker.

"Turn down that alleyway." Senator Singh instructed from beside Tech.

The mechanic eyed him warily as he piloted. "We'll be trapped in a choke point."

"You're going to have to trust me." Singh said.

With a glance at Hunter, Tech did as he said. They came to a dead end, and the Senator asked for them to park right next to the wall. He opened the door, revealing a blocked passage. "If you don't mind, please blast a hole in the wall right here."

Wrecker grabbed an explosive. "That I can do." He placed the bomb and closed the door. A small rumble shook the walker. The door opened to reveal a subterranean passage. With a way to escape clear, the Bad Batch, Singh, and GS-8 made a run for it.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•

They were halfway up the ramp when Singh stopped. "What am I doing?" He asked himself. He turned around to look back at his city. "I cannot abandon my people. I must help them."

"You will, Senator," GS-8 assured him. "But not if you are in Imperial custody."

"She's right." Althea said suddenly.

Echo nodded and turned to Singh. "Live to fight another day."

The senator nodded, his eyes no longer conflicted as they left.

•°•°•°•°•

An abnormally large crowd was in Cid's parlor. In the center was Omega at the Dejarik table, Cid's hands on her shoulders.

Hunter couldn't help be feel exasperated. "Of course."

They watched as Omega ended the game, winning what must have been the umpteenth one. The crowd cheered for her, but not for long as Cid shooed them out. "Alright, shows over. No more bets."

Wrecker picked up Omega, holding her with one arm. "Kid, where'd you learn to do that?"

"She's a natural." Cid said with a smile. "I've never seen anything like it."

Hunter looked at he girl. "I told you to keep a low profile. This is the opposite."

"Ease up, Bandana." Cid said with a shove. "Omega made enough money to pay off the debt you boys owe me, so try showing a little gratitude to my friend." Her expression softened as she patted Omega's arm. "You did good." She moved past her to see Singh. "Senator, glad you made it. Let's talk payment."

Wrecker set Omega down as everyone went to join the discussion of money. He shoulder checked Hunter, giving him a look. The Sergeant stared at him, then Althea caught his attention. She jerked her head at Omega and mouthed apologize before joining the rest of the team.

"You really paid off our debt?" Hunter asked.

"I wanted to be useful," Omega shrugged. "Even if I couldn't go on the mission."

"Hmm." Hunter never would have expected this from her. She really was trying, maybe he had been a little harsh. "How about we put those strategy skills to the test?"

He walked past her to the Dejarik table. "One match. If you win, then no more sitting out on missions."

Omega grinned, taking the seat across from him as he activated the board. Hunter looked at her from across the holo. "You ready for this?"

Omega smirked. "Are you?"

Hunter couldn't help but smile. He knew Omega would win, even if he tried his hardest. She payed off their debt while they were gone, something even they couldn't do. If she could be trusted with that, then she could go on missions.

She was a part of their squad.

<- Previous

Next ->

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #oc #fanfiction #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #healer's family series

26 notes · View notes

momojedi · 1 year

Text

Imagine: The Bad Batch Siblings

Crosshair teaching Omega how to shoot a rifle

The Bad Batch playing Poker against Cid at her cantina once Omega’s gone to bed.

Echo telling Omega bed time stories and Wrecker listening along until they’ve all fallen asleep

Tech teaching Omega stuff and giving her homework only for her to trick him into doing it for her by asking him for help.

Tech teaching Wrecker how to sew the tears in his civvie poncho

Echo and Hunter bonding while cooking together

Crosshair and Wrecker playing childish pranks on their siblings (mostly on Tech)

(Clone Wars Era) The Bad Batch wishing each other luck and comfort before a mission, just in case.

Omega being disgusted when she takes a sip from Echo’s caf for the first time and grimacing at it ever since

Hunter always secretly sneaking toothpicks on Kamino for Crosshair

Tech being denied caf because the rest of them know exactly that he’ll use it to stay up for work

Echo and Tech being pretty much the unofficial medics of the Batch

The entire Batch having to pretty much pin down Wrecker whenever it’s time for a shot (and still not being strong enough to hold him down)

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #bad batch #clone wars #the clone wars #star wars clone wars

30 notes · View notes

bearpillowmonster · 7 months

Text

Bad Batch S2

I figured finish 2 before starting 3. 2 just wasn't appealing to me because I didn't like the first one enough, it seemed like it was littered with too many cameos, some enjoyable but some way too pandering, it felt like it couldn't stand on its own two feet. It wasn't bad overall though so I gave two a shot after some many months and while it sounded appealing with them being treasure hunters, I just couldn't get behind it. S2 is like every good episode has two bad ones but they aren't necessarily in order so you might get 4 bad ones before you get 2 good ones.

People pit Dave Filoni as the master of the franchise now but I'm not necessarily convinced because this was all him, as far as I can tell. Picking a successor to lead Star Wars is like picking a quarterback to win your Super Bowl, while Dave has experience and has produced the most enjoyable bouts (especially having Atla under his belt) he hasn't necessarily been consistent in my opinion. Sometimes I wonder if expanding the Skywalker era is even a good idea in the first place because they're at planning retirement for the clones...with pensions and all that junk. They're trying to solve the veteran problem...in Star Wars. While that digs deep into the lore, it treads close to what I was saying about Andor with it showing us too many unnecessary bits. Don't get me wrong, that was one of the good bits, I feel like the Bad Batch sort of started showing the actual transition of clones to stormtroopers and I really like that idea but it's few and far between a lot of the time.

But it feels like you're out of luck if you don't like a character, Cid for example is pretty unlikable for a lot of people, maybe she's meant to be that way, whatever but we see a good bit of her. Organa? We see him almost every Star Wars series now, I get that he jumped the rebellion but isn't there something about bringing about the remaining scraps of the alliance on Alderaan after its demise to take down the Empire in the first place? Now there's a billion rebels, now there's a billion lost jedi, which I've complained about before but I'll do it again. Again, if it's the point of the series, it makes sense, Jedi Fallen Order did a great job with this because it was the point, to get the list of jedi, attaching a number to that could only make it more tense and I believe at some point, it was George's plan was to have a Vader saga where he hunted these jedi down. All those ideas sound cool but if they show up time and time again in a story unrelated, it just seems like you have a jedi there to have a jedi, like it's some sort of propaganda similar to the ending of the Last Jedi. The best episodes here are ones that don't involve lightsabers. It's all overexposed.

With that said, I dropped S2 until I saw S3 was coming and brought back Asajj. So, their propaganda worked in a way. And really, S2 didn't have as many cameos as I thought it might, in fact, I found myself getting attached to one of the characters. I've always liked the crew ever since I saw them in TCW but I thought about who I would be most sad for if something happened, it's Echo. He just has always stuck out in my mind, Hunter too, but Echo has the story. The others were born that way and grew to be brothers but Echo was an accepted family because of his condition and I just find that so loving. I also really love where they leave this season off, it has a lot of potential for this next season, having Omega sort of visit another side of everything, so I can at least say that while S1 didn't get me hyped for S2, S2 got me hyped for S3.

#star wars #sw #season 2 #the bad batch #sw tbb #s2 #tbb s2 #tbb season 2

3 notes · View notes

themosleyreview · 1 year

Text

The Mosley Review: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Season 2)

To tell you the truth, I wasn't looking forward to watching this. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the first season and the journey of Clone Force 99 and how they stayed together despite the betrayal of the new Empire and one of their own team members. I just felt the series fell into the trap of being a few too many episodes and kind of was loosing the magic that the preceding series, The Clone Wars series, had each week. It followed the same formula of adventure of the week and it would eventually show the reactions of planets as Imperial rule was being implemented. That and the team becoming a family and how they survived together was the core of the show and for the most part it was good. By the end, I ended up enjoying it. Now comes this new season and its more of the same, but the tone has shifted into something more bleak and the rapidly growing shadow of the Empire grows as the team tries to make a living in this new era. I actually waited for all 16 episodes to be finished and binged them and it was much better that way for me. There were some really fun episode arcs that were there to entertain and the really heavy ones were evenly distributed this season. I truly enjoyed that we got to see how the lives of the clones became expendable and how they were treated as equipment instead of like human beings by the Empire. The parallels between how the clone rights and benefits are being fought for to the horror stories about the Department of Veteran's Affairs in our world was eerie and sad. The amount of character depth in this show has truly evolved past the fact that it is meant for kids and carries on the deeper themes of life after war, entry into civilian life and so much more. I was shocked by how much I loved this season.

Dee Bradley Baker continues do the heavy lifting of amazing acting and storytelling as Clone Force 99 and many more clones that cameo along the way. As Hunter, you get to see the weight of his decisions come to the forefront. He is trying to be the steadfast leader, but even he is starting to see how the life they're trying to live away from Imperials and doing side jobs, won't last long. As Wrecker, he becomes more of the big brother and less the sometimes comic relief. I liked that he has a small, but relevant emotional journey. As Echo, he shows the level of commitment and love for the cause of defending his brothers and sister against everything. He even tends to be the voice of reason and empathy in many great moments. As Tech, he takes the very logical character to a new and subtle depth emotionally. He may be so data driven and accurately blunt most of the time, but there is a heart behind that datapad and we get to see it towards the last half of the season. He was truly the standout this season. As Crosshair, you get to see his realization that turning on his brothers to serve the Empire was beneficial for a time, but futile. Once he truly sees how his commanding officers treat his clone brethren and eventually himself, you see him truly question that so called loyalty he has toward following orders. His arc was the second best part of the series. Michelle Ang was wonderful once again as Omega and I loved that she leaned into her training and became on par with The Bad Batch. She could handle herself and she was smarter this time around and I loved her chemistry with everyone. She really completes the family dynamic of the team and I loved her connection with Echo and Tech the most. Rhea Perlman was even more despicable and mean as Cid. She truly shows why she is the worst business partner to have in this ever changing world. She was fantastic in her performance and truly was the most untrustworthy character I've ever seen in Star Wars history. Now the award for the creepiest character I have ever experienced in Star Wars, goes to the outstanding Jimmi Simpson as the Imperial Doctor Royce Hemlock. His presence was so shrouded in secrecy and darkness and you truly get see the evil experimentation side of the Empire through his workshop of horrors. He just oozes villainy in his voice and how he carries himself in every scene. I'm half convinced that he's not even human. He is definitely become one of my new favorite villains.

The amazing Kevin Kiner returns to grace us with his magnificent score. It is epic in the best way and very much influenced by the grand maestro John Williams in so many ways. Even listening to it now as I type this review, I can visualize the scenes. The best scored episodes of this season for me are "The Outpost" and the season finale "Plan 99". The range of emotions throughout those stunning episodes were expertly scored by this man. Visually this season was on par with the last season, but had more of an exotic look to it in the first half and a more grey smoky look to it in the second half. The dichotomy between the hopeful outlook and the dark and dreary future was astounding to see in animation. Once again this show has surprised me on how great the storytelling is with a group that I didn't know I would care about this much. It was great to see the turmoil of the clones and the politicians fighting for their rights. I still feel that the show needs to be more focused on the main plot and not deviate so much into the adventure of the week since we're getting close to that point where the Empire takes over everything. This was a great season in the end and I cannot wait to see what happens to the rest of The Bad Batch in the next season and how they recover from the events of the finale. Let me know what you thought of this season or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#star wars the bad batch #dee bradley baker #michelle ang #jimmi simpson #ernie hudson #wanda sykes

6 notes · View notes

mor-and-more · 10 months

Text

I'm having the "rotates G'raha in head like a reheating meal in a microwave", and hcyfifyf

There are actually so many things the catsona would want to discuss with him

Because I made it the history and myth links expert. From the faculty of mythology, which the Students of Baldesion have their connections with. But that's not important now

What important is the fact that the cat's Studium thesis was dedicated to how myths and tales of Allag and unearthed history coincided, and basically laid out the initial methodology and framework for using existing myths to peer into history of the world from the eras past

And then after new discoveries were made about Allag, including the Crystal Tower rising up after the Calamity, the cat communicated with archaeologists, helped with research into found passages and published more papers on Allag

But... All of it was way before it got so desperate for a change that it submitted a full name change petition to the Forum, informed the Scholarch that it needs a time off, unpaid, and can't say when or if it will be back, apologised before Lalah and her mother, and leaped aboard a ship to Limsa. Chancing to encounter the certain Famous Twins while there

But G'raha, being so fixated on Allag, would for sure have devoured any and all research coming from anyone. And as a historian, he'd definitely be on board with the idea

But also then the cat would've been so trapped with the NOAH

There is Rammbroes who was his pen pal for a time a while back, as the cat first sent letters to the head of the dig site around the Crystal Tower. Who the cat is sure doesn't even remember the interaction, because it's convinced EVERYONE was contacting the Sons of Saint Conach about such a promising site

There is G'raha Tia who mentioned its research a few times. But by the Old Name That Could As Well Be A Deadname By Now. The cat wants to participate in the discussion but also is afraid it would be figured out, and it DOESN'T WANT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH *THAT* NAME

And also Cid. Who's treating it as a buddy and is really the only person who's only ever dealt with the cat as just an adventurer. And who loudly proclaimed he feels out of his depth. So the cat doesn't reveal its knowledge of Allag to him either, mostly just so that the guy doesn't feel all lonely and on his own, being the only guy with no Allagan history knowledge

But by Nophica's ample bosom, it really wanted to just TALK ABOUT ALLAGAN HISTORY, TOO

...I really imagine that the cat would pull from its two months of doing lectures on mythology back at the Studium, by giving tours of the Crystal Tower to the citizens and visitors of the Crystarium, talking all about the brilliant faraway nation from ages past that brought it into existence

#shut up kevin #ffxiv ramblings #wol thoughts

1 note · View note

smitten-miqitten · 5 years

Text

So, idk if you all remember my Butterflies chapter where Era had a spot of intimacy nervousness, but thanks to a certain delightfully enabling Discord server, it now has a much saucier lemon flavored followup. This is obviously not safe for workplace consumption (But I’m not the boss of you. Live your best life).

Ao3 Link

Butterflies Scattered

"I've made you wait so long, I think it's only fair you get to decide how we start."

"You've done nothing of the sort. You just needed time; I was never in any rush."

"You've still been waiting though, haven't you? Is there nothing you've been wanting to do? Nothing in particular, I mean? Any fantasies… or, or… you know." Era stammered, gesturing vaguely as if the action would account for words she wouldn't utter. "I'd like to do that first, really I would."

So she said, but Cid was of the opinion that bending her over the railing of the Excelsior and having his way might be just a tad bit too rough for Era's first time. So he went with his second favorite fantasy, one of the first he'd ever allowed himself of her, in fact.

"Well then, if you insist", he laughed, scooping her up and plopping her down on one of the ship's benches. She landed with an "eep!"; her eyes growing wide to see him kneel at her knees. "You want to do that?" She asked nervously, face flushing as he kissed his way up her thigh, his hands gently parting her hastily squeezed together legs.

"Very, very much... but it can wait, if you're not comfortable…" Cid noted her furrowed brow and worrying lips.

"No, no, it's not... I want to try, I do… it's just… I can't return the favor." Era sighed, pointing to her teeth, specifically her canines, in response to his puzzled look. "I've been practicing, on...on fruit and the like, but I can't seem to avoid damaging them with my teeth."

She what?

Cid struggled really, really hard not to laugh. She had been practicing? He was flattered beyond words that she would bother with such a thing for him, truly. But the idea of her doing that to various foods was far too comical an image. Giggling lightly despite his best efforts, he said "My darling, I appreciate the concern but I assure you I'm rather more substantial than fruit."

She flushed to think of his substantiality. "Well, sure, I mean... you're certain I won't hurt you?"

"Short of outright biting me, no, I don't think you will."

"That's… genuinely a relief. I don't like this disparity between us, I really don't. I want to be able to make you happy, Cid. So no matter how silly or undignified it is, I wanted to at least make an effort."

"Era.." Damnit, how could he keep up his suave act in the face of something that genuine? Cid knew he was like putty in her hands, turning to mush at her heartfelt admissions. He leaned up to kiss her, hoping she could feel the love he bore for her as keenly as he did. "We could always try for a practical lesson later", he murmured against her lips. "Without the fruit."

"Cid~…" Heat radiated off her skin, his flirtations never failing to get a rise.

At least I’m not the only one turning to mush, he thought. "Only teasing. Though the offer stands..."

She met his lips again to shut him up, clever tongue seeking entrance and being wholeheartedly welcomed. She had grown very adept at this of late, a quick study, kissing him senseless. For a few short moments their roles were reversed, Era holding all the cards, his heart in her hands. But that wouldn't do. Not for what Cid had planned. Her breath caught as his hands wandered back downwards, slipping underneath her skirt, fingertips coming to rest at the edge of her undergarments. Giving her a quick peck on the tip of her nose and a cheeky little grin, he followed his hands to his prize. He would leave the majority of her clothes on for now, while they were on the deck at least; the chill in the Sea of Clouds was fairly biting. He was pleasantly surprised to find she had not worn her customary undershorts, his only obstacle a pair of lovely blue lace pantalettes (clearly worn with him in mind), already quite damp.

He smoothed his thumb back and forth across her waistband, savoring the feel of warm, soft lace on skin, smile only growing. She had no way of knowing this, of course, and he'd never admit to it, but the skirt she currently wore was the very one that originally inspired this fantasy. It had been the first time he'd seen her wear such a thing, her toned thighs the most glorious display.

"Ready?"

She nodded, hands coming to rest on his shoulders, eyes shut tight and face crimson. Cid, perhaps knowing her too well, mercifully did not leave her much time to stew in her shyness, deftly removing her undergarments and setting to work.

Oh! Ohhhh gods...

His tongue was on her now, moving slowly across her folds, every lap culminating in a little flick at her clit, each one sending what felt like sparks throughout her skin. Era tensed at these new sensations, fingers digging into his shoulders and legs attempting to squeeze shut, ultimately thwarted by his firm hold on her thighs. She could feel…. something building in her lower belly. Something warm, each spark further igniting it, her veins filled with fire. She knew what, of course, but never imagined it to feel... anything quite like this.

Seven hells…oh Cid...

Her breath came out in small, stuttered gasps, uttering a muted moan as he found his pace, quickening as if in time with her racing heartbeat. It was so quiet she thought he might not have heard, thought (stupidly) that she might escape the sheer embarrassment of it. That is, until she felt him smile.

A hand flew to her mouth to stifle the noise, but her attempts at modesty were fruitless. Without looking up from his task, Cid merely raised one of his own hands in response. Holding it out as if requesting something, fingers waving in a "give it here" motion, he didn't need words to say what he wanted. Hesitantly, begrudgingly, Era placed her offending hand in his, the cacophony of quiet gasps and moans that escaped her now undampened.

Heavens above and hells below, if this was him out of practice she couldn't begin to imagine what she was in for in the future.

Her hand grasped his tightly, the other fisting in his hair as she neared her peak. At least, she thought she must be, the tension in her belly growing stronger and stronger. Cid gave her thigh a little squeeze, a wordless "stay put, please". His touch left her for a moment, only to reappear at the entrance of her core. Gently he inserted a finger, crooking it juuuust so, making her back arch in pleasure.

He's... trying to loosen it, right? I read about that..I read..ohhhh, I can't! She could feel herself teetering on the edge, an odd image of balancing on a brick wall coming to her mind. She was going to fall. Needed to fall. But it was too soon, he needed to add more for it to work, didn't he? She had to hold on, to be patient, she had… "Cid, I'm sorry, please, I can't...I need...ah!!" Era came with a shudder, body curling around what of him she could reach, clinging to him.

Huh. Her sudden release had caught him off guard, her cry and sharp tug of his hair startling him out of his reverie. So caught up in the act, he hadn't spotted the signs: how firmly she gripped his hand, the rising pitch of her voice, the thrashing of her tail. He hadn't expected Era to be quite so quiet, and assumed he had more time. Not that it matters, he thought, admiring the worn out, blissful woman before him, her glow more than achievement enough.

She relinquished her hold on his hair, a couple strands staying with her, his scalp stinging a bit with the loss. As Cid kissed the inside of her thigh, Era dimly registered how...damp his beard felt. That's strange...wait...oh seven hells. Cid issued a disappointed "tisk" as she buried her face in her hands.

"There's so much, isn't there?" She cringed at the feel of the cool air on her damp skin. Damp. Urgh….

"Era, no, darling, it's fine." Cid hastily wiped at his mouth and beard, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "See?"

The flavor on his lips was odd, not at all like him. "Oh...do I really taste like that? It's... salty, sort of."

"You taste fine, better than fine." He chuckled as she peeked out at him through her fingers, a little smile unmistakable.

"I ruined your master plan, Cid. Finished too soon, you only managed one finger before I…"

"My plan, my overly self-conscious sweetheart, was to get you off. Having achieved that -- spectacularly, I might add -- I count nothing as ruined."

Oh you silly, awful, wonderful man, she thought, pulling him into a languid kiss, tongue dancing with his, her taste mingled with his own. "Thank you."

"'Thank you'? For what?" Cid pulled a dumb face utterly ill befitting his genius.

"What? You know what!" She stuck her tongue out at him, his clueless, teasing facade cracking into an easy smile. "Oh no… Cid, the bench is such a mess", Era groaned, sitting up, again hiding her face in her hands. They hadn't thought to lay down a towel or anything.

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Ever since her upgrade, the Excelsior's been overdue for a rechristening", he laughed. "This should serve".

"I'm not a bottle of wine!" Era chided, bapping him on the shoulder in embarrassment.

"Could have fooled me." Cid countered, waggling his eyebrows. "Now, the chill on deck does make what I have planned next rather difficult, what do you say we head below? While I must admit I'm very keen to get you out of those clothes, I'll not have you freeze in the process."

Era stood, wobbling slightly, steadying herself against his arm. Cid triggered the hatch release, and the pair descended from the chilly deck into the bowels of the Excelsior. Unlatching a portion of the wall, Cid revealed a small foldout cot. He kicked a number of crates and containers underneath it to aid the rather spindly supports, claiming the bed’s legs would not be up to the task. “Not the most comfortable thing in the world I suppose, but you’re the one that picked the Excelsior rather than a proper bed.” Not that Cid would want it any other way.

They set to removing their clothing, or the rest of it, in Era’s case, smalls long since cast aside. Era saw little point in retaining any articles, modesty all but tossed out the window given he’d already become so well acquainted with her most intimate parts, but Cid continued to wear his smalls, perhaps in a gesture to calm her nerves. He also wore his goggles still, which Era proceeded to yank off his head. Damned goofy, to wear goggles during sex, she thought.

Cid was hardly restrained in his appreciation of her form, eyes wandering, drinking in each and every glorious curve. Era too, was guilty, though she tried to be rather more discreet in her admirations, eyes bashfully roaming his glorious musculature. Era adored in particular the fine, silver trail of hair that grew starting at Cid's navel, travelling downwards and downwards. She couldn't help it, it was fascinating. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of it, her own body hair, where there was any, being fine and sparse, the vast majority being on her head and tail. Or perhaps it was simply the implication; the thought of where the trail led, and the heat that arose in her loins in the thinking, that had her so enamored with this particular patch of hair.

He scooped her up, laying her on the cot with care, drawing her into an impassioned kiss, stealing her breath and leaving her woozy before moving to nibble at her ears. Okay, this is a good place to start. They had done this before, albeit with more clothing. This was familiar, comfortable: passionate kisses, bodies pressed together, hands roaming faces and shoulders and hips and...oh. Cid’s fingers caressed the swell of her breast, Era letting out a little gasp of surprise.

Of anticipation.

Sensing no opposition, Cid continued, his palm enveloping it, massaging as his thumb began to stroke her now pebbled nipple.

How heavenly, how...oooh. A familiar want grew, stronger and stronger as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, ever more so as he took its companion in his mouth, his beard soft and smooth and ticklish on her skin.

More, please…

As if he were suddenly a mind reader, Cid obliged, free hand finding her clit, small circles driving her wild. He was cognizant of her tells now, working her far more steadily as he dipped a finger inside. First only one, Era still too tense, still too tight, but so very wet. A second soon followed, crooking, hitting a spot that made her squirm, stars erupting behind her eyelids. He quite liked that reaction; Era could feel him grin against her chest as he repeated the move.

She tried to reach for him, barely thinking through her pleasure, fingers tentatively following the path of silver that led to him, wanting to do something, anything more than take. Cid groaned as she grasped him through his smalls, voice heady and deep, losing pace for a moment. Growing bolder, her hand slipped underneath his waistband, stroking the hardness she found there. Era hadn't the faintest idea what the hell she was doing, but surely it had to be something right, if his heavy breaths and muttered oaths were any indication. She hooked a finger underneath his chin, luring him to her, nibbling at his bottom lip.

She was close again, the pressure mounting, the tell-tale teetering feeling returning with force. Pleasure driving her to distraction, her hold on his manhood faltered, Era losing herself in his ministrations as Cid took her hand. But this, this wasn't how she wanted it. She wanted...

Era started to giggle, covering her mouth in an ill attempt to quell her sudden outburst. Cid looked up, his smile one part amused, one part confused, and one part a bit hurt.

"Era, dear, if you're going to laugh, I do hope you'll tell me what about." He sounded a touch concerned. She patted at his arm reassuringly, wiping the corners of her eyes.

"It's nothing, I just….hahaha...I just had the most idiotic thought. As lovely as this is, I can't bear for you to stop. And at the same time, I need for you to stop. Isn't that mad? It is, isn't it?"

"I think that depends on what you mean by ‘stop’. Have I done something? Are you uncomfortable?"

"No, no, no. I just...I want to move on. I need... I think I'm ready for the next bit."

Cid grinned deviously with understanding. "Oh? I'm not quite sure what you mean, love. 'Next bit?' I'm afraid you'll need to be a touch more specific."

"Must I? Cid…. I would like to...no, that's too crass, I won't say that. I want…"

"Go on…" Cid was kissing a highly distracting path up her neck to the underside of her jaw, lavishing attention there with teeth and tongue. He shouldn't tease her so, but she really did make it all too easy.

"I want you to...to make love to me." She muttered, shyly leaning away from his fervent affections, breathing heavy.

"Didn't catch that. A little louder, perhaps?" He was going to be in so much trouble later.

"Make love to me, dammit!" She griped, huffy and frustrated. Why must he bully her now?

Cid didn't mind in the slightest, enveloping her in his warm embrace. "As my lady commands", he laughed cheekily. "Perhaps it will be easier for you", he said, sitting up against the curved wall of the ship as best he could, "like this." Cid motioned her forward, pulling her onto his lap. "To give you more control of the pace. Then again, she's not exactly got the roomiest hull. You might bump your head…hmmm."

"If I'm careful", she murmured, leaning in close to kiss him just below his third eye, "it...it should be fine, probably. But I... I think I'd rather you be on top. If you're alright with that."

"Of course." Cid lay her gently down on the cot, hands making their way down her sides to rest at her hips, pulling them flush to his. He bit back a moan at the feel of her against him, wet and ready.

"It's just... I'm a bit nervous, is all." Her heart was racing, pulse pounding at the feel of his length against her core, small rolls of his hips sending heat throughout, shivers following the path of his lips down her neck. "I...ah!...I can't...mhmph!"

Whatever it was she thought she couldn't do was lost as Cid claimed her lips, intent on drowning out her worries. If she wanted him to take care of her, he'd gladly do so; it was no failing on her part. Afterall, isn't that what she'd asked him to do?

Shy fingers trailed their way to the waistband of his smalls, pausing then tugging lightly. Cid broke their kiss, searching her eyes. "You're sure?" His voice was heavy with lust, undeniably eager to continue. But he had to be certain.

Era nodded, flushed but unashamed. "Please."

Removing them with haste, Cid lined himself up, Era bashfully looking anywhere but down at where they were joining. He kissed her once more, the ferocity easing her nervous mind as he entered.

He was much too large, surely. Or she was much too small. Era couldn't be sure which, and she couldn't bring herself to care with him kissing her so. There was no pain, thankfully his earnest preparations had seen to that, but Cid took her slowly all the same, giving her body a much needed moment to adjust to him. The stretch was the cause of some discomfort, unaccustomed as she was, but soon gave way to the oddest feeling. Fullness, warmth. With every ilm the feeling grew, and grew more pleasant for it.

"Cid…" she panted, eyes half shut from the overflow of sensation. "Hmmm?" He had hilted, exercising as much restraint as he could muster waiting for her body to relax, his fingers digging into her hips from the effort. "I love you." She took his face in her hands, thumb caressing his lips. "So very much." "Era..." Words failed him. To be here, with her like this after all this time, he wasn't sure if he was more liable to sing or cry. Instead, he decided to show her. Love her in this way, that the depth of his feeling be undeniable. "I love you."

A tentative roll of Era's hips ushered him onward, starting with slow, intentional thrusts, mapping out her pleasure. Though she had little in the way of leverage in this position, Era rose to meet his every thrust admirably, greedy for the contact, savoring the feeling of renewed fullness with each stroke. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to be lost in him, but found it immeasurably difficult to take her eyes off of his beautiful face. He was a sight to behold, her beloved, awash with joy, powerful muscles flexing and glistening with the sheen of their mutual exertion. A curtain of silver shielded them from all the world as Cid rested his forehead on hers, third eye cooler to the touch than his searing skin.

Cid slipped his hand onto the small of her back, arching her ever closer into him, Era's breath catching as his touch grazed the base of her tail, said limb lashing about in answer. Stroking it, Cid found he could coax from her the most delightful whimpers, tenderly caressing the fine silken hairs to call forth even more of her lovely song.

Era, blessedly, was nearing her peak, hands fisting in his hair and clamoring at this back. Cid too, was struggling to hold on. It had been far too long since he had last done this, and she felt far too perfect around him, squeezing tighter and tighter as she neared release. He refused to be first, reaching between them to work her most sensitive spot, leaving her gasping for air. By his touch she was undone, unraveling around him with a soft cry. He followed after her, oaths muttered into the crook of her neck, having resisted longer than he could bear, spilling over into his love.

Spilling.

And spilling.

… on second thought, he probably should have warned her...

Spent, they separated, fighting for air, basking in the afterglow. Their hands met, holding fast as they came down together. Looking over at Cid, Era thought he looked strangely... sheepish. "Era", he panted, "don't look down. It's nothing bad, there's just, there's a lot of… just let me get you cleaned up."

A lot of what? She wondered, a odd trickling sensation answering her. Oh…

Cid rose from the cot wearily, utterly exhausted, rummaging through a nearby storage crate for a couple clean cloths and towels.

"No, I can do it myself, really, just hand me the towel!" She squeaked. She hadn't braved a look, but it was beginning to cool and she could feel it. They cleaned up in an abashed silence, Cid helpfully passing her another cloth when one proved insufficient.

"Cid?"

"Yes?"

"Is it always like this?"

"What? Ah... yes. Usually. Unless I've been.....Yes." His cheeks and ears were rather pink now. He nearly... there were some activities he'd prefer to keep to himself for the moment.

"Then I don't mind the mess."

"Oh?"

"It felt nice, frankly. It's a part of you. Also you're blushing."

"Am not." He was.

"Are." A mischievous grin spread across her face, as if it hadn't been she who was the blushing, stuttering mess not moments ago. "Do you think Vanu or Bismark or Sky Pirates will find us in the next bell or so?"

"I shouldn't think so, why?"

"I'd quite like a nap, if you'll join me." She patted at the cot beneath her, a towel laid over the worst of the wet spots.

"Good gods, a nap would be heavenly." He flopped down heavily beside her with a huff, pulling her onto his chest, promptly falling asleep. Era laughed, soon to follow.

#lemon #cidera #I don't know exactly how to tag this #It's Era's first time ever and Cid's first time with her #She's a bit shy #I hc Garleans as fairly...productive #these two are dorks and I hope I did their first time together justice #idk what I'm doing ever tbh

11 notes · View notes

chysgoda · 3 years

Text

Commend

AU: Last Dragoon

Spring

Year 06 of the Eighth Umbral Era

Bel frowned as she watched Constaint and Cid yell at each other. She glanced around, Gaius stood to her right and slightly back, Nero was on the far side of Cid being strangely quiet. Near the door Biggs and Wedge shifted uneasily. Bel had caught a glimpse of Carry’s copper hair on the other side of the door frame.

“They could be planning another Calamity and you’re just going to sit behind your walls?” Cid slammed his hands down on the long dining table in the town hall that usually doubled as a community dining room.

“There are children here!” Constaint leaned forward matching the engineer’s aggression. “And before you accuse us of sitting on our hands you’d do well to remember that Defiant’s grain feeds your people.”

“That’s enough.” Bel stood and spoke into the silence as Cid took a breath.

“Ah the Warlord finally deigns to speak.” Nero finally spoke up. “I was worrying you’d picked up only your mother’s most annoying habits.”

Bel curled her tail around one calf to keep it from trashing with the spike of anger that made the dragon blood in her veins call out to echoes of rancor in the dragon song. She took a moment to calm herself before she focused on the discussion at hand. “The simple fact is that there was significantly more infrastructure and resources to support the Warrior of Light and Scions of the Seventh Dawn before the calamity. We do not have the luxury of being able to split our resources, and I will not steal bread from the mouths of my people.”

“So you’ll just let the bastards keep plotting?” Cid turned to make his demand to Bel.

“There’s not really a way to stop that,” Bel drawled. “Our best chance for fighting the Ascians lies in rebuilding so that when there is another Warrior they have what they need; support, materials, tools, food.”

“There is no way to save this Star from the effects of Black Rose.” Nero picked up for Cid, “The only recourse is to turn back time and save the only one that could stand against the odds. Someone who wouldn’t refuse to take up any responsibility.”

“How unlike you to depend on anything other than your own ingenuity Nero.” Baelsar arched an eyebrow at his former second in command. Bel ground her teeth and let Gaius’s comment stand alone. Raising to Nero’s bait would just prolong the argument.

Nero scowled, “the data does not lie.”

“Your data is flawed!” Constaint snarled. he jabbed a finger towards the closed double door, “Children both here and in Idyllshire, along with healthy crops and people. Crops and people you rely on.”

“How long do you think this plan would take you?” Bel fought past the churning acid in her stomach to keep her tone neutral. When Constaint’s head whipped around to her she motioned for him to wait. “How long and what does the world look like if you succeed?”

Cid and Nero looked at each other briefly before turning back to Bel. Nero spoke first and then Cid.

“It would take several generations working off my math.”

“It would look like it did Bel, back to normal.”

Bel watched them letting silence stretch as she took her time considering them. Grief had changed both of them as it had changed all the survivors of the Calamity. Nero’s reserve and Cid’s frantic arguments were not the men she had grown up with. She turned her head to look out the windows beside the double doors. “There have been four children born in Defiant in the last year and a half and you say that this project will require generations of work. You ask me to commend their ultimate fate to you? To abandon my town and hunt down Ascians so they do not interfere with your work?”

“This is no world to bring children into Bel.” Cid's blue eyes scrunched at the corners and distress colored his tone. “Why would you damn any child to be born into this? If you help us we can ensure that none of them have to be.”

“Because they would not be born at all.” Bel let her voice go hard and cold. “Mom would never support this. I think somewhere you know that, or if you don’t than you all you ever saw was the mask and never bothered to understand Art’imis Chysgoda.”

“The Warrior of Light would not have let this happen!”

Bel’s fist slammed down on the table wreathed in agitated blue dragon aether. “EXCEPT SHE COULDN’T STOP IT!”

Only Nero and Gaius did not flinch in the wake of her shout. Bel continued before Cid could find his footing again. “Do not lecture me on what Art’imis Chysgoda would have approved of. My mother swore to protect those who could not shield themselves. She swore to the people she lost that she would strive to help those that could yet be saved. She would not have sacrificed those who could be saved for those that had already been lost.”

“The coward has made up her mind Garlond,” Nero said flatly. “We should stop wasting our time with someone happy to let ruin reign.”

“Get. Out.” Bel stared Nero down. “Get out and do not come back here to convince me to give up hope.”

Nero sneered back at her but left, grabbing Cid’s bicep to drag him along back to Mor Dhona.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #ffxivwrite 2021 #redhead writes a thing #au: last dragoon #eighth umbral era #bel aliender #nero tol scaeva #cid garlond #constaint #gaius baelsar #gods this is rough

7 notes · View notes

chrysalispen · 3 years

Text

a dream in flight (cid/wol)

for @smitten-miqitten. thank you so much <3 i hope you enjoy!

AO3 HERE

fic under the cut, as always.

===

The morning was a rare one, having dawned clear and cloudless - albeit every ilm as cold and bracing as the one that preceded it. The overbright sparkle of a sun with no warmth bit as strongly as any blizzard, but the crystal and stained glass windows of the great cathedral seemed to filter the merciless glare of eternal winter into something gentle and cheerful.

Although a bone-deep chill lingered without the doors as ever, it was stiflingly warm in the nave. Folk large and small had gathered beneath the roof of Saint Reymanaud’s, brought together by the common threads that bound them to the Warrior of Light -- she who had ended the Dragonsong War alongside Ishgard’s greatest knights and heroes. The union was an occasion to celebrate as much as any feast-day, and to that end all present had turned out in their finest: city-state leaders in ceremonial dress, various personages of the High Houses using the occasion as an opportunity to display themselves and their sons and daughters to advantage, Brume folk in their best attire.

Cid Garlond had long since grown weary of observing the still-gathering crowd and now contented himself with staring through a small pane of glass into the body of the sanctuary. Light streamed through the massive arches like golden prayer-ribbons, weaving their way along marble walls and ancient buttresses. The floral wreaths that bookended the hefty spruce pews were a donation from the Gridanian Botanists’ Guild, sprays of color and scent and life (some alterations had been made; he doubted the artichoke flowers lining the steps to the altar dais had been Era’s notion, or Fufucha’s for that matter).

“Hells, you even let them deck the pews,” the sardonic drawl echoed slightly from old stones. “I suppose you really are serious about this.”

That was a voice he knew, and normally one that was wont to cause his hackles to rise- but in this instance the unsettled flutter in his gut left him more inclined to look favorably upon its owner, if for naught else other than long familiarity.

He let his shoulders roll back as he glanced up at the taller Garlean out of the corner of his eyes, then shook his head. “I’m not sure what gave you the impression I would do anything like this on a lark. Goodness knows there were other venues. More discreet, at the very least.”

“Well, I daresay there’s still some time before the festivities commence.” Nero Scaeva’s shameless grin was all teeth and no small amount of mirth; Cid thought to himself with a sort of sour amusement that his colleague and erstwhile rival was quite enjoying his predicament. “You could always abscond with your lady as soon as she arrives. Make for the Dravanian hills. Biggs and Wedge would cover your escape, no doubt.”

“While you simply sit back and watch, I suppose? Or would you help them?”

Nero offered only a lazy shrug of his shoulders, a lift and a drop and spread hands.

“Perhaps, Garlond. Perhaps. I find myself feeling oddly magnanimous this morning, as it happens.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to curtail these passing generous impulses of yours, Nero.” Cid’s lips tilted in a wry half-smile of his own. “I suspect Era would be cross if I let you assault the guests.”

“Spoilsport,” he said. Cid scoffed, though it was without rancor. “In that case, I suppose you are determined to endure, come what may. Stand still, your collar’s gone askew.”

As the other man cast a critical eye on his neckwear Cid fought not to fidget in place. His eyes strayed frequently to the doors of the cathedral, and in the back of his mind he could feel Marques fluttering about like a trapped bird buffeting its wings against an invisible cage. Strange, how the most significant sennight of his life had begun much like any other, and even stranger that he felt so anxious, knowing how long he had felt ready for this very day. He supposed it was public speaking jitters- there were quite a lot of people here, after all: many of them faces he knew as well as Era did.

But then, he told himself, that was the point, wasn’t it? The other ceremony - the real ceremony, as far as Cid was concerned - was somewhere else. This was a sort of… test run, one might say.

Just a test run, he repeated to himself, and he couldn’t say why it was that which served to ground him, but it did. Some of the tension in his muscles seemed to flow out of his limbs, like icemelt into a mountain stream. It hadn’t entirely fled him, and he was sure the second the doors opened and all eyes were upon him it would return. But the fluttering in his head had subsided, and that was what mattered.

He exhaled softly as Nero stepped back to give him space. A frown knitted the other Garlean’s brow: an emotion that looked almost like concern.

“Jests aside, you’re looking a bit pale, old friend. Are you quite sure you’ve not changed your mind?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be fine,” Cid assured him. He glanced towards the entrance to the vestibule. “Once she’s arrived, I’ll be better than fine.”

He didn’t have to wait very long. Three turns about the space later there was a flurry of activity at the doors and a vision in white stepped across the threshold, the long and lacy train of her dress draping the floor at her back like spun frost.

Era looked as stunning as she always did to his eyes, of course, regardless of what she wore. But as lovely and intricate as it was, Cid took little more than cursory notice of her dress. His attention caught itself upon other, smaller details: the shine of her eyes - just slightly too bright - and the tight curve of her smile, and the white-knuckled way she clutched the bouquet of white lilies in her hands. She was as outwardly composed as ever but he knew her tells well enough by now to see that in truth, she was no less unsettled about the prospect of a very public display than Cid himself.

So, he thought, it appears I won’t be alone in this either.

He nudged his companion in the ribs with one elbow. “You see?” he said. “Better than fine.”

“Well then, Garlond, let me be the first to offer my congratulations-”

“Jumping the gun rather, aren’t you? The ceremony hasn’t started yet.”

“-upon your miraculous recovery from stage fright,” the engineer finished. His lips tilted in something that was either a sneer or a smirk, and knowing Nero as he did, it could well have been both. “As amusing as it is to entertain the notion of watching you faint away upon your approach to the altar like some dewy-eyed Coerthan virgin afflicted with the vapors, I suspect the timely arrival of your fellow aspirant to matrimony has just saved me a good deal of trouble.”

“You would actually give up the opportunity to watch me embarrass myself in front of what must be half the realm sitting in those pews? Seven hells, Nero, you are getting soft.”

A derisive snort. “Spoken as if your lovely and more than somewhat terrifying bride wouldn’t simply pluck you from the floor and princess-carry you to the altar herself should it come to that. He'll not escape you that easily, eh, Era?”

The neutral set of her soft lips barely twitched, but the flash of good humor in her eyes was all the answer Cid needed. Her smile took a genuine turn at last - a soft and slight thing that would have been imperceptible to anyone else - and the cloud-like softness of her tail twitched, nearly hidden in the layers of snowy lace and satin. At the same moment, he watched the tilt of her shoulders relax. Just the barest hint, really, but he suspected it to be a reflection of his own selfsame thought process.

“He'll be fine, and so will I,” she said at last. She was responding to Nero but her eyes, luminous and wide, were fixed upon Cid's. "We go together."

“Right. Well. Upon that note, I believe I’ll be finding my seat. Away from the aisles, if it please you,” the tall blond shrugged, making a show of turning his back as he strode towards the exit to the sanctuary. “Do make an attempt to remain vertical for the duration, Garlond.”

Cid managed to suppress a mirthful grin of his own until Nero had quit their presence before turning it upon a lily and lace-bedecked Era.

“He suggested we take the opportunity to elope, but I think that would be a touch impolite- tempting as it might be.”

“Besides which, everyone is already here and waiting,” she said. “It would be a bit rude to elope now. We might as well get on with it.”

He laughed and it would have gone unnoticed were she not looking at him; the sound was swallowed in the ringing swell of a tolling cathedral bell. The sound crashed against stone like an invisible wave, once, twice: the final call for their gathering to take seats.

Era’s ears swiveled forward at the sudden sound before relaxing back into the wreath of flowers woven into her hair, and lifted one hand midair while juggling her bouquet into her right. He tucked her elbow about his much girthier forearm so that her hand rested just above the back of his wrist. The small ring she wore caught the light with a tiny, delicate sparkle -- a mote of light with a deep blue center.

“I suppose that’s our cue. You will catch me if I fall, won’t you, love?”

“Always. Even if I tear my dress doing it.” Smile steady, her soft eyes flickered towards the nave entrance. The slight weight of her hand resting upon his was warm and secure, a silent comfort. “Shall we?”

Cid took the hint for what it was.

“Let’s,” he said, and reached for the heavy wooden doors.

~*~

“Era? Sweetheart?”

By ilms the ache began to subside and with it, the Echo vision faded and passed. Her fingertips fell away from the spot where they had lain pressed to her temple.

The sight that awaited her when she opened her eyes was of quite a different venue indeed: no massive flying buttresses or walls of cold and heavy granite to be found here. The tiny chapel of Saint Adama Landama sat on a high point as did the Holy See’s grand cathedral, but that was where the similarities between the two locations ended. The view afforded here was not that of majestic snow-capped mountains, but a small and dusty lichyard. Beyond the box canyon that housed the old Sunroad waystation of Camp Drybone lay malms of flat scrublands and shallow watering holes, populated only by tuco-tucos and herds of wild aldgoats that had taken advantage of cooler hours to graze and water.

At last the day had dawned upon what she considered the real ceremony.

Today she would in truth marry the man she had loved for so long, in this place which meant so much to the both of them. Of course she had wanted their friends to share in their happiness, and Cid had in turn agreed for her sake. But here, the difference was as stark as night and day. Looking upon the well-worn pews strewn with laurel and desert saffron, the anxiety that had so plagued her in the great cathedral was… well, not what she could call ‘nonexistent,’ not exactly, but there was far more of excitement in it than aught else.

How long had it been, in truth, since they had met? The first time it had been wholly incidental. They had been little more than ships passing in the night -- albeit those ships were ghost-ships, left unanchored and unmoored and empty to drift slow and wide upon deep currents. Newly recruited to the Scions and looking for information, she had instead found him, half-concealed in a solitary corner of the lichyard draped in his borrowed robes and weeding an aged plot. He had been too shy to even look her full in the face while he stammered out a frightened response to her question.

Then, he had only known himself as Marques. Sometimes she wondered about the part of him that they both knew was still Marques, looking upon the world as it was now: the world that Cid Garlond had helped to shape. Be it for weal or woe.

She had forgotten for a moment that he was still watching her. When she glanced at him after the sound of his clearing throat caught her attention she saw his brow knotted with concern, eyes cast in brief shadow.

“Era, is aught amiss?”

“Hmm? No, I’m fine.” Era punctuated her words with a faint smile, hoping it would reassure him. The small bouquet of baby’s breath she clutched in one hand was warm, the simple ribbon that bound it ever so slightly damp where moisture from her palm had started to sink into the fibers. “I was just thinking about the day we met.”

“Mmm.” The furrowed crease that had extended nearly down to the bridge of his nose relaxed. “Good old Marques. I’ll wager he never would have dreamed of a day like this.”

(Sometimes she wondered if he wished he could still be Marques. She would hardly blame him.)

“On a day like this, where would he have been?” she wanted to know.

“Well away from the churchyard.” Cid reached for her, his broad, rough mechanic’s fingers lacing through hers. It was already hot and his hand was as warm as hers, but it was a gentle warmth- one that enfolded her hand much like his steadfast presence had enfolded her heart. His grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “Tending some of those newer plots on the high road, methinks.”

Before she could think about it she had voiced the question.

“You don’t miss it overmuch, do you?”

“What? Being ‘Marques’?” At her nod, that grin turned somewhat wry. “Aye, well... were I to be completely honest, I think I do miss that daft old bugger on occasion. He was a tabula rasa, after all, and that sort of existence does have a certain appeal. Fewer responsibilities, for one.”

“But?” Era squeezed his hand, and his focus caught upon their laced fingers.

“But all other matters aside, I know full well what I would have missed. There are times… well, I have my bad days, and sometimes being Cid Garlond feels a terrible beast of a burden. I’ll not deny it. But days like this? I can’t say I would wish to be anyone else." He paused. "Or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Cid's eyes were the precise grey-blue of cornflower blossoms, as guileless and open to the sun as the Thanalan sky. She had always loved his eyes: windows which afforded her a glimpse into a soul that was both noble and incessantly kind, even in those early days when he had not known himself. The worry she had glimpsed was gone, passed across their surface and moved on like a cloud drifting away from the sun. It left them as lovely as ever, and brighter to her own loving gaze than any crystal would ever be.

Like a crystal, he reflected the light she bore in truth.

Her throat felt suddenly tight, as though there were a lump she couldn’t swallow past, and she blinked furiously to clear the uncomfortable burning sensation that pricked her eyes.

“Come now, darling,” Cid chided her with a soft laugh. “Save your tears for the ceremony, eh? The good Father’s waiting on us, and so are the crew.”

She almost held out through the entire ceremony. Almost.

Motes of dust billowed in the shafts of sunlight that slanted through the windows of the chapel - in truth, little more than a meeting-house - as if in benediction upon the small gathering. Small as it was, Era clutched her bouquet until her knuckles turned white as she tried to ignore the small handful of people in the pews. Her free hand, held in his- it all felt so seen, and fame or no, she had never liked to put herself on display.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught the movement of Cid’s lips, though there was no sound. She blinked at him, wondering if he had said something and she had merely missed it, until they moved again:

Relax. Look at me.

That message was unmistakable, followed as it was by a very slow and deliberate wink and the mischievous tilt of a half-smile. She felt her own lips stretch in response and her grip on his hand relaxed ever so slightly - and she caught his faint grimace and felt the flex of tendon and muscle, and realized she must have been squeezing his fingers more tightly than she had intended.

If old Father Iliud had noticed any of that silent exchange, he gave no outward sign, bless him. He merely looked from the bride to her groom, both in their modest attire, Era in her lace, then out upon the few witnesses sitting upon the weathered and somewhat rickety benches that passed for pews. The smile he bestowed upon them all was very much like the sunlight slanting through the dusty windows, gentle and ever-present.

“My dear friends,” he said, his voice quiet and warm and intimate, as if he addressed only the two of them in the comfort of a private parlor, “words cannot well express what a wonder it is, to see all of you who have gathered here today. To share in a day like this, to celebrate love, is to celebrate joy itself.

“We have all weathered many a storm these past five summers. Yet those who endure hardship and emerge wiser and kinder for the experience are the strongest of us- and the secret to their strength so very often lies in the company they keep on their journey.”

As she listened, she remembered.

There had been another time he had clasped her hand like this. The rift, beautiful chaos, an endless sea of stars and a cold to numb the very soul as they were cast adrift in the vast and unfolding eternity of interdimensional space: her only anchor the softness of chocobo down and the warmth of Cid’s hand, fingers intertwined and grasping like tapestry threads. Era had forgotten many things, some more important than others. It was a circumstance she had accepted long ago; for better or worse, a not-insignificant part of her time had been spent trying to assemble the disparate pieces of her life before and after the shipwreck.

But that she would hold in her heart until she cast away her mortal coil, for the memory of that warmth was also the moment Era had realized she was in love with him. It had been exhilarating and wonderful, that quiet awareness of something that had waited with such patience for her to see it, like the petals of a morning glory unfolding to bask in the full brilliance of the sun.

The company we keep--

Such a long and strange journey it had been, all of it. And Cid had been there with her from the first step.

“Era,” a voice murmured. “The rings.”

She’d been lost in so much reflection she had nearly missed her own ceremony, she thought with a sort of rueful embarrassment. Cheeks coloring slightly, she set the bouquet aside just in time for Iliud to take her emptied hand and fold her fingers into those of her groom.

Iliud stretched his other hand first towards Cid, his palm open and facing upward as the engineer reached for the bauble that lay in his hand and lifted Era’s hand with a reverent touch. They faced each other now; the pews were visible from the corner of her eye if she chose to perceive them, but she barely noticed. Her focus lay upon the delicate white gold ring and the tiny jewel settings, blue as his eyes, as he slid it onto her finger with painstaking care.

“Let this be my promise to you,” Cid murmured. He held her hand high, close to his mouth, and she could feel the damp warmth of each soft exhale as he bent over his work. “Be they clear skies or the darkest storms, I would navigate them all with you at my side.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, grave and earnest, a pilgrim paying homage.

“And Era.”

Thus prompted, she reached for the remaining band. It was a simple piece: the metal brushed and polished to a precise sheen, pleasing to the eye but sturdy enough to withstand much of its owner’s heavy manual labor. Her hands felt clammy with sweat. There was a sort of… no, lightheadedness wasn’t the right word. Giddy, she amended. Reality was asserting itself bit by bit, wondrous and overwhelming-- it wasn’t a fever dream or an Echo vision.

She could blink once, twice, a hundred times, and this day - the fact of her marriage - it would all still be real.

He held his own hand aloft, awaiting her next move in patient silence and an unwavering smile. Era’s fingers trembled slightly, albeit not from any particular apprehension, as she positioned the ring to slide into place. It caught on the wide point of his finger for the space of a heartbeat before moving downward once more.

The chapel seemed terribly hot, or perhaps that heat in her cheeks was self-consciousness-- Era had never been one for grandiose speeches or noble vows. Nevertheless, she bowed her head studiously over the much larger hand she cradled, his fingers curled with delicate care about hers, to seal her words with a kiss of her own.

“Let this be my promise to you,” her words echoed his, a statement bold and simple in equal measure. “No matter the adventure or the quest that leads my steps, you will always be at my side, in word and in deed. We go together.”

The ring shone with the reflected light of the afternoon sun, and she shut her eyes against it just long enough to brush her lips against roughened knuckles. She lowered his hand, still held securely in her own, to see her emotions mirrored in his face. He was still smiling, but his eyes were suspiciously bright and by the knowing tilt to his lips, Era rather suspected she was in the same state.

Iliud’s hands cast small shadows over theirs as he raised each palm to place upon the crowns of their hands, then their backs, in light and careful benediction. Just as Cid had received foreknowledge of this part of the ceremony so had she; her ears flickered back and then forward again in a small, tight swivel. Still, her fingers tightened their grip ever so briefly, and with silent determination she kept her gaze firmly set even as her vision went dim and she blinked furiously.

“What the fates have seen fit to join,” he intoned, “neither man nor nature may cast asunder. By those powers granted to me and the immeasurable privilege to preside over this union, I bid you take your first steps in life across the threshold of this holy house.”

Heedless in truth of the emotion between them - or mayhap perfectly aware of it - the old priest’s hands raised aloft as the pair turned at last to face the pews.

“Era and Cid Garlond, I pronounce you husband and wife, and alongside my fellow celebrants in your shared joy wish long life and happiness upon you both. May you go forth in peace-- and may the Twelve smile upon you now and forevermore.”

Her joyful laugh, thin and shaking and half-tearful, was muffled beneath her husband’s kiss. She tasted salt, but almost as soon as the impression was there it was gone and he was grinning at her, the Cid she knew and loved. Sunlight glittered in bright blue, the tears in them fading like a receding rainfall to be replaced once more with eternally fair skies.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cid whispered, taking her elbow in his. They took their first step down the aisle in tandem. “The airship’s waiting.”

“Airship? I thought we weren't-"

“Aye, you heard right. It's all been arranged. We’ve the whole of the next sennight to ourselves and an open sky ahead.” His wink was all boyish mischief, ceremonial solemnity fled in the wake of what Era saw now was suppressed excitement. “So you just tell me where to go, and I’ll take us there. Just like always, Missus Garlond.”

“But the Ironworks-”

“There’s no less than a dozen folk who have offered to take up projects in our stead,” he kissed her cheek, and she squirmed at the tickling scratch of his beard, “on both ends. This will be just the two of us.” “Not even Biggs and Wedge?”

“Not even Biggs and Wedge.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, then: “...Oh dear. That... wasn’t quite how I meant that to sound.”

Unfazed, Cid tossed his head and laughed. His hair, that beautiful silver-streaked white-blond, shimmered like his wedding ring band in the filtered sunlight and with that single peal of sound she fancied she could nearly see his soul. He was happier than she had ever seen him, and it had made of itself something tangible and incandescent. Radiant.

And reflected light or not, she couldn’t help but find him the most beautiful man she had ever seen. My husband. She thought her way around those two words, testing them.

“I’m sure they’d understand,” he said, smiling. “Right! Well then, my fellow navigator, I believe we’ve a course to chart. Let’s be about it. To the Excelsior?”

Era beamed at him. This, too, was the happiest day she could remember, and it would end with a shared dream, borne aloft and bound for adventure.

“To the Excelsior.”

The chapel doors flew open on their weathered hinges, and with hearts and hands joined, Era and Cid Garlond set forth into the light of a new day.

#cid x wol #era hess #cid garlond #chrysalispen writes

21 notes · View notes

semi-imaginary-place · 3 years

Text

ok doing crystal tower raids again.

garlemald is weird, will expend resources to chase down Drest but wont track down nero or gaius

the royal blood is the key of lost civilization trope has always bothered me. if you take the sci-fi route and there’s like a dna reader looking for a particular allele, then there’s no guarantee any progeny will have it unless both parents are homozygous. so if thats the case, there’s either inbreeding or each generation is genetically modified while still a single celled zygote, because individually targeting trillions of cells in like.... you’re really testing that suspension of disbelief huh. but post fall of the civilization, with that not being maintained, an allele that provides neither benefits nor harm can just hang out in a population or it could through random processes be eliminated or become fixed. but without that deliberate modification, there’s no way to guarantee that the allele will be passed on.

and if its magical, some how tracking lineage. well.... ever heard of mitochondrial eve aka the woman literally every single person is descended from? well uh exponential growth. over generations the amount of one’s descents can be modeled to grow exponentially until many generations later everyone has that person for an ancestor.

and on the flip side, the more generations back you go the number of ancetors increases at an increasing rate. of course real life is more complicated and no some people may eventually have 0 descendants, but this is why being related to historical figures isn’t impressive. everyone is related to at least a few. its also why class systems like nobility often only have 1 child per generation inherit, otherwise the class would grow exponential and the status comes from it being exclusive and limited.

so the royal/allagan eye is magically contacting every person and only choosing one every generation?? i dont believe it. sorry ishikawa i cant suspend my disbelief

i was so busy absorbing the lore dump the first time through that i failed to notice after the plans for sycrus tower that in the background cid runs after nero, calling out and reaching for him, nero turns and i assume responds and then continues to leave, and then cid chases after him. damn cidnero divorce drama continues.

edit: or they could mean literal blood like hiv and other bloodborne pathogens. like maybe not even bloodstream to bloodstream but any skin contact? but then transfer would either have to be matrilineal (birth) or deliberate/ceremonial. but if its any blood then you’d have to be very careful otherwise a lot of people are going to accidentally have it, like any injury could pass it on. so then the G tribe’s been deliberately passing the royal magic blood on for like 1000 years?

im still disappointed nero doesn’t die

wait... what DOES g’raha say at the end? as the doors to the crystal tower close, he turns back and says something but it isn’t subtitled.

gotta say story was better the second time through. 1. i think i have just gotten used to ffxiv's brand of bullshit. 2. i was in the middle of 7th astral era patch content last time and dealing with ishgard had be just about feral to burn the city down so i was in a bad mood coming into the raids.

koh rabntah’s unique dialogue is easily missed. she only appears after completing the crystal tower raids and if you accept the noah quest which in unlocked by the completion of the raids and starts right next to where they end, then by the time you talk to her she’s alreayd possessed and has a different small talk line

#ffxiv #crystal tower

2 notes · View notes

dragons-bones · 4 years

Text

FFXIV: Quantum Shenanigans

Or, Baby ‘Buncles Break Physics (and Mom)

A/N: IT’S DONE AND JUST IN TIME.

Rating: T Word Count: 4009 Warnings: Mild spoilers for 5.1 MSQ and the Chronicles of the New Era side story Sorrow of Werlyt Cross-posted to AO3

“This is an abomination,” Nero snarled, flipping from what little Synnove and Krile had managed to put together of the Arch Ultima to the ones on the ravaged Ruby Weapon on a tablet. He was sitting at a heavy iron table in one of the Ironworks’s myriad workshops, fidgeting back and forth in one of the wheeled chairs Biggs had welded together on a whim one day, the chair swaying half an ilm side to side. “Absolutely repulsive. Of course the VIIth is involved somehow, that legion has always been full of lunatics.”

He was already ducking out of the way of Synnove’s hand, making to smack him upside the head for the pun, but it left him open to Cid’s hard flick against his temple. Nero yelped at the sting and pointed accusatorily at the other Garlean, yelling, “Hypocrite!��

Dancing Heron, knitting a shawl in the corner of the lab, pointedly cleared her throat.

The trio of scientists glanced over at her and then back at the tablet, subsiding into mostly-good behavior—for the time being.

Nero poked at one of the diagrams on the screen with a ferocious scowl, pinching his fingers together and then flicking them wide to expand the tiny line of code to magnification by five. He held up the tablet, nose practically against the screen as he stared at the close up of part of the recovered code from the Ruby Weapon, his eyes squinting half closed and tracking back and forth as he processed it. “Ah,” he finally said after long moments, “there it is.”

Both Synnove and Cid leaned closer—Synnove over Nero’s left shoulder, Cid over the right—and Nero pulled his head back to give them room, pointing at a small section on the screen with his pinkie finger.

“With most the Weapon melted slag and what remains of the code a scrambled nightmare, it’s hard to tell precisely what swiving nonsense they’ve wrought with my schematics of the original Ultima Weapon, but that isn’t anything either the Allagans had or what I added,” said the former tribune, voice grim.

Cid drummed his fingers on the worktable as he stared at the glowing code. “That looks eerily similar to what we managed to recover of Aulus mal Asina’s unique brand of horror,” he said. “Reversed, of course, since it certainly doesn’t seem like the Ruby Weapon’s oversoul system was ever intended for the pilot to survive.”

“Well, in order to implant the memory of an individual, one has to extract it from somewhere,” drawled Synnove. “But it’s similar to the Ultima Weapon’s coding for absorbing primals, as well. So: did the VIIth manage to get their hands on mal Asina’s research; did they reverse engineer Nero’s notes; or did they come up with it independently? None of these options are particularly comforting.”

(Over in the corner, next to Heron, Tyr suddenly jerked awake from his doze, a small *hic!* escaping him at the same time as his eyes crossed. Heron paused in her knitting and peered down at him, raising her eyebrows.)

“Either way, the results are revolting,” Nero said with palpable disgust. “Forcibly downloading and uploading souls at a whim, who would condone such a thing?”

“You would!” Cid and Synnove snapped in unison.

“The Praetorium,” Synnove said, jabbing Nero in the kidney with her finger. He yelped and jammed his elbow into her stomach, or tried to, as Synnove was already dancing out of range as she continued: “I distinctly recall you waxing poetic about adding mine and my sisters’ power to the Ultima Weapon!”

(Tyr reared up from his loaf shape to sit on his hindlegs; Heron, leaning over him, jerked back in surprise. The topaz carbuncle stared down at his stomach and carefully poked it with one paw.

Poke. Poke poke poke. Pooooooooke.

A deeply perturbed little nya? escaped him as he did.)

Nero paused and set down the tablet, then pressed his forefinger against his lips as he searched his memory. “…So I did,” he said at last, grudgingly. “Not my finest moment, descending into full on megalomaniacal mad scientist stereotype.”

“That implies you ever rose from the state in the first place,” Cid muttered. And then wheezed out a curse while doubling over and clutching at his stomach; Nero had taken advantage of Cid’s momentary distraction to ram his bony elbow into the other Garlean’s abdomen.

A ball of shimmering copper wool-and-silk yarn bounced off the side of Nero’s head. Synnove cackled and plucked the ball out of the air, and, without looking, threw it back to Heron. Nero, meanwhile, grumbled wordlessly, but tucked his elbows in and folded his arms across his chest.

(As Heron dropped the yarn back into her bag of sundries, Tyr slowly lowered his front paws to the floor to properly sit, blinking slowly as he did. He looked up at Heron and let out a quiet, very bewildered maow.)

“I am ruthless, not cruel,” Nero growled. “The Ultima Weapon absorbs entities in whole, yes, and I cannot say what happens to those entities while they are held within Ultima. But this?” He gestured to the tablet. “This is—this is using people as little more than batteries, in the most disgusting, agonizing way possible, likely for no other reason that I can discern except that it was likely the easiest way to—to do whatever the sodding hells it is the Legion wants to do. For all the shite I give the pair of you about your standard of ethics, I do have standards, and this is still a gross perversion of science and an unconscionable lack of morality.”

Silence settled on the workshop. Synnove, Cid, and Heron all just looked at Nero with various shades of bemusement.

Nero shifted uneasily, flicking his gaze from Cid, to Synnove, to Heron, and back to Cid to repeat the cycle. Finally. “…What?”

“I’m impressed, Nero,” Cid said. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he leaned back against the workbench to look at Nero with shrewd blue eyes. “You’ve actually matured. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Bathe in ceruleum, Garlond.”

“Choke on a lug wrench, Scaeva.”

HI MOMMY!

Synnove shrieked and jumped a fulm in the air, clutching her chest. Nero shoved his chair back to get away from the flailing Highlander, so quickly he rolled over his own toes, and he made a garbled, choked off sound of wordless agony. Cid didn’t have time to get out of the way himself and ended up taking the backrest of the chair into his already abused stomach, knocking the wind from him with another wheeze. Heron did not drop her needles, despite also jumping, but only because a lifetime of friendship with Rereha had trained her otherwise. Tyr jumped to all four feet with a thud!, fur bristling as his gaze darted around the room for a possible threat.

All five gazes swung around to one of the other iron tables in the workshop, the one upon which Synnove had unceremoniously dropped her gear when she and Heron and Tyr had arrived.

Poking out of Synnove’s ubiquitous hip pouch, the flap still buckled shut so that their faintly iridescent heads were forced to stick out from opposite sides, ears twitching in delight and dark eyes huge with glee and utterly heedless of the minor chaos they had wrecked upon the workshop, were Amandina and Roksana.

“What in the—girls, where did you even come from?!” Synnove said, scurrying over to them. She undid the buckle and, now with room to move, the twins tumbled out of the bag with high-pitched giggles.

Hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy hi Mommy, they chanted continuously, leaping into her arms and snuggling close, their six tails between wriggling frantically.

“Synnove,” Cid said, still breathless as he forced himself to stand upright with a wince, “I know you can be more than a little single-minded when you’re on a tear, but surely even you should have noticed two baby carbuncles that have stuffed themselves into one of your pouches.

“This is the one with the void storage metafold,” Synnove hissed, turning around. She was supporting the twins’ chests with her hands and the rest of their bodies along her forearms; Amandina was in her right hand, Roksana in the left. Amandina gently headbutted Synnove’s chin, while Roksana looked around the workshop excitedly.

Cid’s face went blank in the manner that usually preceded him asking a question he would wish he had not in fact asked at all once he had the answer: “…Void storage metafold?”

“Yes,” Synnove said primly, bouncing the twins in her arms. They giggled. “It’s based on the one Khebi built for Carby, though the structure’s internal area is only about three square fulms instead of…whatever nightmare area Carby’s is. All you have to do to make one is calculate the Cartesian coordinates in four dimensions rather than three, then fold the aether along the proper axes and—”

Cid’s eyes were becoming suspiciously glassy.

“—Nero, kick him.”

Nero, using his non-injured foot, immediately did so in Cid’s shin while wearing a gleefully malicious grin. Cid shouted.

“Such an example to set,” Heron said, deadpan.

“Girls?”

The carbunclets chittered together, When Mommy is being petty, we should use it as an example of poor behavior and not emulate it!

“Good girls!”

Amandina and Roksana cheered.

(Wish Mama would take her own advice, Tyr grumbled. Heron made a sympathetic noise and patted him on the head.)

“What the hells was that even for?” Cid said, leaning back up against the work table to pick up his leg and rub his injured shin.

“Your eyes glazed over as I went on a brief aetherology tangent!” Synnove bellowed. (The twins made oooooooo Uncle Cid’s in trouble~ noises.) “I will not have it! You might be an engineering protoyping savant, but your aetherology theory is shite! You have lived in Eorzea for fifteen bloody years, learn some!”

“Your grand idea for overcoming the first line of aetheric defenses of the Crystal Tower was to throw a bloody rock at it.”

“It has been four years, are you ever going to stop harping about that?”

“No!” Nero and Synnove snapped in unison.

“Tangent!” Heron bellowed.

Nero and Synnove grumbled but settled. Cid began the motion of a particularly rude gesture, stopped, and looked at the twins. The twins blinked at him curiously. Cid dropped his hand and crossed his arms with a scowl.

“In any event,” Synnove said, “I left the twins with Khebi and Rere to babysit—stop looking at me like that, you two, Halulu was supervising—and teleported to Revenant’s Toll directly from my office.”

Now she twisted her wrists to turn the carbunclets around to face herself, and Synnove’s expression morphed into exasperated affection as the babies beamed at her. “I waved to you!” she said to them. “You waved back! How did you two get here?!”

We missed you, Mommy! said Amandina.

So, we decided to come find you! said Roksana.

And we tunneled! the black pearl carbuncle peeped excitedly, puffing out her chest in pride.

Yeah! the white pearl carbuncle said, mirroring her sister.

Synnove’s expression melted into faint confusion. The workshop was quiet for a few moments as they all stared at the twins in various degrees of bafflement.

“…Tunneled?” said Synnove, at last.

Yeah! From Elder Cousin!

To your hip pouch!

Synnove’s face blanked. Nero went white, jaw sagging open. Cid’s eyes widened to practically the size of teacup saucers.

Heron and Tyr exchanged bewildered looks.

“Before I say anything else,” said Nero, voice faint as he turned to look at Heron, “is ‘Elder Cousin’ who I think it is?”

“If you mean A’khebica’s Carby,” Heron said slowly, “then yes.”

“Shite,” Nero hissed.

(The twins gasped and covered their mouths with their paws. Bad word!)

“Carby’s a good boy,” Synnove said automatically, the tone of someone who had made the argument before and likely would again. “He’s strange, but he’s a good boy.”

Cid looked at her incredulously. “Just last week you were screaming about having to rummage in his void storage again for your aether chalk and how he was gnawing on your shoulder in retaliation!”

“Carby is not a good boy, Carby is halfway between a constructor-kit outer entity and an unshackled artificial intelligence.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is!” Cid and Nero snapped in unison.

“At least Carby understands ethics,” Heron muttered under her breath. Tyr snickered next to her. Then, louder, Heron said: “Tangent.”

“Fine,” Synnove hissed. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose slowly; she held the breath for a few heartbeats, then let it out for the same count. When she opened her eyes, she immediately focused on the girls blinking up at her. “You tunneled. From Carby’s void storage metafold to the one in my hip pouch.”

Yes! the girls said.

We got a bit mixed up at first, though, Roksana said, ears drooping.

Yeah, said Amandina. We almost ended up in Tyr instead.

Tyr boofed, flabbergasted, his ears pricked completely upright in shock. That was YOU?

Synnove twitched.

Often as they had traveled through Azys Lla, the quartet of Warriors of Light had come across Allagan nodes glitching, five thousand years of constant functionality having degraded their circuits and systems. One type of cascading error turned the nodes’ vocalizations into a mess of garbled static, the pitch changing mid-word from high and piercing to low and growling, or vice versa. Listening to them had frequently led to the group gritting their teeth as the sounds dug into their minds and scratched like broken orchestrions.

Heron, Nero, Cid, Tyr, and the twins watched the visual equivalent of that noise happen on Synnove’s face. And in the case of Nero and Cid, it was occurring on their own faces, too.

“How?” Synnove said eventually, voice tight with tension.

Amandina and Roksana looked at one another. Amandina flicked an ear, the movement briefly iridizing the black fur on the appendage into deep purple. Roksana shrugged her shoulders, her own white fur momentarily shifting blue and then back. They looked back up at their mama.

We…pushed?

“Pushed.”

Well, first we accessed Elder Cousin’s metafold! Amandina said.

(Nero made a strangled noise of utter horror. Cid slowly slid down the side of the worktable to sit on the floor, knees bent and staring into the middle distance.)

Then we had to orient ourselves, said Roksana. That took a little bit. Elder Cousin’s metafold is very big!

We found Auntie Rere, too, Amandina whispered conspiratorially. We were playing hide and seek earlier. Elder Cousin said he had helped her.

Synnove closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, a snorting snicker briefly escaping her before she regained her self-control. Heron didn’t even bother to maintain the illusion of dignity, merely threw back her head and laughed from deep in her belly; Tyr, meanwhile, simply laid down on the floor and sighed heavily, covering his head with his paws. Nero made another horrified noise. Cid just wheezed.

Elder Cousin helped us, too! He told us about [subspatial aetheric sympathy tension paths].

Synnove froze. Her golden bronze skin had developed a worrying grey cast to it. “Say that again,” she breathed.

Roksana blinked. What? [Subspatial aetheric sympathy tension paths]?

The method by which all of Synnove’s carbuncles communicated with the people they and their mama generally liked wasn’t actual speaking, not with vocal cords and aspirated sounds to form words. Instead, they matched their aetheric harmonics with those of the individuals around them, with the end result being that the combination of the sounds they made, the body language they used, and the intent they held were “translated” into something the Spoken mind translated as “speech.” Most people initially found it odd, but quickly adapted.

This, however, wasn’t that.

Whatever Roksana had tried to tell her mama had…blanked. The concept was too big, too alien, too what the absolute swiving fuck for a meat brain in three dimensions to comprehend without shutting down as a defensive tactic to preserve sanity. But the little carbunclet still spoke, and whatever it was she had said had been further translated into a strange and obvious two-toned overlay of something that wasn’t quite right, but close enough.

Very slowly, Synnove turned her head to look at Nero, practically frothing at the mouth and his hands curled into claws as he grasped at air, and Cid, now aggressively cuddling a wrench he had gotten from one of his pockets like it was a comfort object. Deliberately, with precise enunciation, the arcanist said, “Please tell me I am not the only one who is hearing that harmonic as an approximation and not whatever it is my child is actually saying.”

“I know what those words mean individually,” Cid said. His grip on his wrench was white-knuckled. “I may even know what those words mean together. I am not ready to accept that. And I am most assuredly not ready to know whatever it is they are actually attempting to convey.”

“Blargle,” Nero agreed.

Synnove looked back at the twins. “Continue,” she said. The corner of her left eye kept spasming.

Sooooooo, Amandina began, once we knew where to go and how to sense the other metafolds based on Elder Cousin’s metafold—

“They sensed it?!” Nero yelled, outrage finally returning his ability to use vocabulary. He pushed himself upright and staggered over to Synnove and the twins, raking his hands through his hair. “How in the hells are they able to sense similarly constructed aetheric metafolds when each one is a distinct pocket dimension?!” He suddenly leaned down so he was nose to nose with the twins, frowning severely and blue eyes glimmering with suspicion. In a quieter, but no less manic tone of voice: “How in the hells are you able to sense similarly constructed aetheric metafolds when each one is a distinct pocket dimension?”

Dunno, Uncle Nero, Amandina chirped, wiggling her ears, her fur iridizing back and forth between black and purple once more.

Just can! said Roksana. She reached out and very carefully booped his nose.

Nero’s eyes crossed, staring at the white pearl carbunclet’s paw. He drew back with a huff—but booped her nose in turn, and then Amandina’s. The twins peeped happily.

“And then you pushed,” Cid said from his place on the floor.

Yeah!

It was easy!

It tickled!

And then we were here!

Synnove gazed sightlessly at the far wall, green eyes huge and unblinking. She untwisted her wrists and tucked the girls up against her chest, where they snuggled close. “My babies had a conversation about aetherospatial metaphysics with Carby,” she said in disbelief. “While they were inside his metafold.”

“Before they broke the laws of everything we know about physics and aetherophysics and quantum mechanics and traveled through space-time because they missed you,” Cid helpfully added.

“Congratulations,” Nero said icily. “You have mothered two more constructor-kit outer entities. If the fabric of reality unravels any time soon, I am blaming you.”

Yaaaaaaaaaaay! the twins cheered. The air popped and a bright light flashed between them, and suddenly aetheric confetti in a rainbow of pearlescent hues floated through the air, the pieces dissipating as they landed.

Synnove dropped her gaze to her youngest carbuncles, amused exasperation briefly flitting across her features once more. Nero and Cid also looked at the carbunclets, though without the amusement on their parts. Then the three scientists looked at one another.

And, finally, the hysterical yelling commenced.

Heron let them go at it for a while, finishing up her shawl and casting on a new one with the pretty copper wool-and-silk she had earlier thrown at Nero. After nearly a full bell of non-stop shouting, Biggs and Wedge arrived to investigate, and were dragged into the hysteria once they parsed through the trio talking over one another.

She did not even pretend to understand anything. There was quite a bit about aetherophysics and aetherology that she had picked up simply from knowing Synnove for so many years, but this was far beyond her ken. A few phrases stood out of the verbal melee (“quantum tunneling,” “Keltgeim’s absolutely ludicrous fringe theory about particles,” “aetheric entanglement”), but otherwise it was all Allagan to her.

At the two bell mark, however, with no sign of any of them slowing down, the Hellsguard decided it was time to call in reinforcements.

“Go get Jessie, please,” Heron quietly said to Tyr, “and tell her to bring the hose.”

Tyr boofed, amused. Yes, Aunt Heron! He stood and trotted for the workshop door, disappearing around it with a flick of his tails. The twins waved after him.

Heron eyed the group of frantically yelling nerds and reached up to her linkpearl cuff. She tapped a specific ‘pearl and leaned back in her chair as she waited for the other end to pick up.

A soft click echoed in her ear, and a familiar warm tenor came over the line. “Good afternoon, Heron,” said Aymeric. “What trouble has Synnove gotten into now?”

She probably should start calling her baby sister’s beau for reasons other than ‘come pick her up,’ but today was not that day. “She’s involved in a five-way discussion here at the Ironworks about theoretical physics that may not in fact be as theoretical as previously thought,” she said. “Please come pick her up.”

“Quite a lively discussion, then, as I can hear it,” the Lord Commander said drily. “On a scale of, created a more efficient theorem, to, about to write an “in response to” article rebutting a Thavnairian mathematician, just how manic is she?”

Heron hummed thoughtfully and turned to look over at the yelling scientists. Synnove was alternating with keeping Amandina and Roksana tucked close to her chest and gesticulating wildly with her hands with the twins still in her grasp, the babies going wheeeeeeee! every time with the later. Nero was pulling at his hair and so wild-eyed that she was becoming mildly concerned his eyes would actually pop from his head; her Echo was softly pinging in the way that meant Nero had lost his grasp on Eorzean Common somewhere in his tirade and had slid back into Garlean. Cid had his face in his hands, only raising his head to shout something in incomprehensible technobabble before dropping it back into his palms. Biggs and Wedge weren’t even coherent, with Wedge’s hands flailing so hard they were blurring.

But they all, each and every one but very especially Synnove, had a spark in their eyes that she well knew was going to mean trouble for someone in the near future. Hopefully just Jessie and Thubyrgeim.

“Once she’s calmed down?” Heron said into the linkpearl. “She’ll be at, rewriting the laws of reality.”

Something clattered on the other end of the line—a teacup, more than likely—and Aymeric swore softly, then sighed heavily. “Give me half a bell and I’ll be there to take her home.”

“Thank you,” said Heron cheerfully. “See you soon! Oh, and bring a towel.”

“Ah, hells. At least you warned me this time.” The ‘pearl line closed with a click.

And that was when Jessie entered the workshop, a firehouse braced at her hip. She waved to Heron, and the Hellsguard grabbed her knitting sundries bag and loped for the door.

The twins looked over, pricking their ears, then exchanged a glance. They nodded, and proceeded to wiggle free of Synnove, who was so deep in argument that she didn’t notice her hands emptying. Amandina landed lightly on her feet, but Roksana hit the floor with a soft plop! Her sister grabbed her scruff in her teeth and helped yank Roksana upright, and then the pair were scrambling for the safety of Heron, who scooped them up outside the shop door and dropped the carbunclets into her yarn bag.

With no collateral to worry about, Jessie turned on the hose.

#final fantasy xiv #spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #nero scaeva #cid garlond #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: dancing heron #synnove's carbuncles #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #also yes synnove's hip pouch is basically a bag of holding just with weight limitations #dt's writing

60 notes · View notes

scottymcgeesterwrites · 4 years

Text

Final Fantasy III Review

Year: 1990

Original Platform: Famicom

Also Available on: Nintendo DS, iOS (DS port), Android (iOS port), Ouya (Android port), Steam (Android port), PSP (iOS port)

Wii/3DS/Wii U Virtual Consoles and Nintendo Classic Edition releases are only in Japan.

Version I Played: DS

Synopsis:

Four orphans (originally only named by the player, DS remake gives them names) fall into a crevice after a sudden earthquake. There, a mysterious crystal warns them about the oncoming darkness that will engulf the world. The four orphans must band together to restore the balance between light and dark.

Gameplay:

ARE YOU READY TO GET YOUR ASS BEAT?

YOUR BALLS ROCKED?

I’m warning you – this is the most difficult Final Fantasy game to date.

There are no ethers - only elixirs, which you should definitely reserve for the hardest battles. Also, phoenix downs cannot be found in stores - only in treasure chests and as dropped or stolen items from enemies.

The gameplay returns to that of the original Final Fantasy – turn-based combat and the Job System, only this time the Job System is greatly expanded. Vikings and Geomancers and Bards and Dragoons and the list goes on. Summons are introduced to the series via the Evoker job, which later gets upgraded to Summoner. The expanded Job System allowed for greater customization of your four characters than in the original Final Fantasy.

This game is notable for the Onion Knight. In the beginning of the original Famicom game, the default job is Onion Knight. If you continue playing as an Onion Knight, your stats remain relatively low. However, if you dare to play the entire game as an Onion Knight and reach level 99 – the Onion Knight suddenly turns into the most powerful job in the game.

The DS remake does things a little differently. Instead of the Onion Knight, you start out as a Freelancer – a new job that has a little bit of everything. However, the longer you use the Freelancer job, the weaker you become. This is a good incentive to have players naturally explore other jobs.

The unfortunate feature of the DS remake though is that the Onion Knight is ONLY available after performing sidequests via wireless with friends. This is impossible to do now since the wireless features for the original Nintendo DS (and also the Wii) have been discontinued. HOWEVER. Playing the DS remake through Steam allows you to unlock the Onion Knight by completing at least 25% of your bestiary. You will then receive a message via the Mognet to start the sidequest.

Final Fantasy III is notorious for its high difficulty. The trick mostly lies in constantly switching between jobs and finding the right balance for the right moment. However, changing jobs requires you to level up that job. This means grinding – lots and lots of grinding. Insane amounts of grinding. This is Final Fantasy: Grind City.

In retrospect, Final Fantasy II was hard as well, yes, but more in a stupid way. Leveling up there was annoying but people could find tricks around it like finding weaker enemies and purposely hitting yourself and healing yourself to raise your HP or defense stats.

Final Fantasy III is difficult but it hurt so good. This game turned me into a masochist. There's two types of video game rage - the good and the bad kind. The bad kind is usually because the game's mechanics are irritating or virtually unplayable. The good kind is cursing out loud but then saying, "I'LL GET YOU NEXT TIME!" and actually being pumped about trying again because you see it as a challenge.

The game has an explosively difficult finale. The finale takes place in the Crystal Tower, which is surrounded by Ancient’s Maze. You have to walk through the maze, then through the tower, then fight multiple bosses through other events which I won’t spoil here. The entire ordeal can pretty well take up an entire hour. At least (in the DS version, I don’t know about Famicom) you can save before entering the Crystal Tower. But if you ever need to venture out into the world map again to get something you forgot, you have to go through the Ancient’s Maze. Once you enter the Crystal Tower, you cannot save the game. It’s one long shot to the final of final bosses. In the Crystal Tower, you get to walk around seemingly endless and maze-like floors such as this:

YAY.

Seriously though - I still enjoyed the challenge and thought it was epic. If you're going to hit me hard, you might as well go all out. Nothing in this game is held back. Also, the expanded job system allowed you to try out so many different things.

I tried for the longest time to play Final Fantasy III on an emulator but for some bizarre reason, I couldn't save, not even on save states. When I have the time, I definitely want to go back to that, try a different ROM or something, and experience the original. But I played enough of the original to know how hard it is. I died right away when I ventured outside the first town.

The DS remake mostly retains the difficulty of the original, which I admired, unlike the watered down PSP Anniversary Editions of Final Fantasy and Final Fantasy II.

Graphics:

The original Famicom game definitely has a lot more going on than the first two Final Fantasy games. Battles are still 90% black space but the rest of the game is 8-bit Heaven.

The DS remake is AMAZING. I would argue that Final Fantasy III DS is really the first great Final Fantasy remake. They got a chibi thing going on and it works here. It’s cute without being obnoxiously cute.

The FMV sequence for the DS is staggeringly beautiful.

I also kind of laugh at this one part where Luneth and Ingus are arguing and it’s the equivalent to a stock photo of two people arguing.

I only wish they added an ending FMV. That would have been the cherry on top for the remake.

Story:

Final Fantasy III is kind of like crossing the original Final Fantasy with Final Fantasy II. The story is wider in scope and more epic. The fictional world is much more interesting. The score has a wider repertoire. You fly many different airships. It also begins what I like to call the "Crystal Trilogy." Final Fantasy III, IV and V, as you'll read later, are quite similar in their general plot, which utilizes crystals as important plot devices.

There’s more to the story than people give credit for. You venture into the world and run into secondary characters who have their own stories, such as Cid, Desh, Princess Sara (reference to the original Final Fantasy), Prince Allus, Priestess Aria, and even four imposters of the four heroes of light. You save towns with a variety of problems, from a village cursed by a genie to finding a missing precious stone for the dwarves. Then you discover the truth behind the world you live in. . .

The DS version elaborates on the story by giving the four orphans names: Luneth, Arc, Refia, and Ingus. This sharpens the story by connecting more dots. The DS story starts with Luneth and Arc as childhood friends. They later meet Refia, a runaway who was tired of her guardian's blacksmith trade, and Ingus, a knight of Sasune who protects Princess Sara. I was disappointed by one rather misleading thing in the DS remake. The opening FMV sequence seemed to imply that Priestess Aria plays a wider role in the story – she doesn’t. That disappointed me.

As I’ve said already, the DS version is a wonderful remake of the original. I very highly recommend it. It enhances everything about the original and more. The remake's heroes hardly get any recognition in other Final Fantasy media and that’s a shame.

Music:

As Final Fantasy games keep getting bigger, so does the score. Uematsu shone here. He did some unique things for a Japanese composer at the time. An example is the illusion of having chords in the track Crystal Cave.

Final Fantasy III’s soundtrack is twice as long as Final Fantasy II’s. I’d say that out of the entire Famicom/NES era, this game probably has the best soundtrack. The battle theme has a sexy bass with more drums added to it. Eternal Wind, the world map theme, is definitely the greatest map theme in an RPG. Period. It truly gives the feel of wandering around a fantasy world.

The DS version reinvigorates the entire score. I loved every second of it.

The way Uematsu composed the final of the epilogue is reminiscent of how John Williams does his finales in the credits for Star Wars or Indiana Jones films. In this case, he references the Final Fantasy Main Theme at the end of the credits.

The result is a wholesome feel to the game. Final Fantasy III has a fantastic score that is perfect for closing the 8-bit era of Final Fantasy.

Notable Theme:

I'm split between Eternal Wind and Priestess Aria's Theme. Fortunately, the DS opening cinematic includes both. It has a great orchestrated rendition of the classic themes.

youtube

Verdict:

The hardest out of all the Final Fantasy games (so far). At the same time, there’s so much to enjoy – but it’s not for everyone. Because of the difficulty, I would save this game for last. There’s something about this game that actually gives me a true “final fantasy” feel. The final stretch is so kick-your-nuts-hard that nothing else in the series can compare to it.

If you go for the DS version, however, that can be a tad bit easier. Just a tad. A smidge. Nothing more. It’s one remake that I highly recommend. They did a good facelift on both the game itself and the story. The DS version was adapted into Android and then ported into Steam, so you can get it there.

Direct Sequel?

No.

#final fantasy iii #final fantasy 3 #final fantasy #black mage #red mage #square enix #nintendo #nintendo ds #video games #rpg #fantasy #magic #onvideogames

14 notes · View notes

linelpisffxiv · 5 years

Text

FFXIVWrite2019 13: Wax

“You are quite calm, for someone who does not know when they can return home.”

Lin looks from the mirror to G’raha. “I would not be surprised if I could find a way to prolong my youth should it be needed.”

Seconds. Had it ever been seconds G’raha had to deal with in the past? From what she gathered, a hundred years passed in seven months. She’s not doing that math, though. Not for the average flow of time.

It doesn’t mean she is fully calm. Her tail has too much energy, tip twitching every which way, a toe tapping, hoping that it would speed time on the source up if she looks long enough.

“Might I ask a question?” he says. “I was told of you fades by Alphinaud. Read about them even.”

“My fades?”

She twitches more.

“I don’t know what to call it. The historians of the early Eighth Umbral Era deemed four times you disappear from history that. All that’s known is that they’re tied to a sword.”

She pulls on her chain and shows the three stones there. The pulsing green bard stone, the bright blue and white dragoon, and the murky teal and black of the Dark Knight stone.

Lin clutches onto the last of the three and lets her dress transform into armor. Her bow shift into a crystalline blade as long as she is tall. “This is what you’re asking about, no? My skills as a dark knight?”

G’raha nods his head. “I admit that when I first checked upon you, thinking one of such fades mentioned would be a good chance to call upon you, I saw I was quite wrong. Forgive me that lack of privacy, but I do understand if you don’t wish to talk directly about them, but they always fascinated me.”

She sets the sword aside and moves to the Umbilicus. “Had you asked me when our stories crossed paths again, I would be less willing, but now, perhaps you can tell me some tales of the time you came from, whether you journeyed to gather the data on Alexander and Omega with the Ironworks.”

His eyes narrow in surprise. “A trade, you mean?”

“I often was not in a good place during these... fades. The only one I was fine during was a third, if one lasted moons instead of weeks.”

She starts telling the tale, starting from when she found a corpse the very night her husband died. How she channeled her rage and helplessness at what she witnessed into a personal fight. About the way her soul has fractured before (in hindsight, Emet-Selch’s lecture about sundering makes more sense after she brings that up again). About her companions Sidurgu and Rielle.

“I suppose there’s a new fifth fade I didn’t have in your time. Before I came here, I called upon my sword for a moment, check on Sid and Rie. They’re doing perfectly fine, but I travelled the areas, finding those whose path mine crossed with this sword, and speaking with that side of myself again.”

“And?”

Lin laughs. She returns her armor to the dress she wore before. “They know I’m in a better place. None of that fade was painful. You once told me that I made countless lives better, and what most don’t understand is that the sword may be tied to grief and anguish, but also to love and hope. Seeing those I’ve made better, even if only in a small way, it makes me more powerful and reminds me of the latter.”

She gestures. “Your turn now, Raha. Should the memories not overpower you.”

He obliges her. After he mentions arriving in Dravania, his talk gets overloaded with technical terms she’d expect from any Ironworks employee, but his own excitement of seeing a marvel like Alexander in person makes her heart sing. She remembers quite well that she was much the same during that journey with the Marchers into the metal primal. (Them and Biggs and Wedge and Cid and Mide and... so many others).

He catches himself. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? I don’t think finding ways of replicating the Prime version of Alexander must be interesting.”

She shakes her head. “But looking at your excitement reminds me why I adore you. The way your eyes widen and hands move. I can’t stop watching, even if I don’t understand the technology behind it.”

“We should find a way to preserve you,” he says.

“Let me have a few days, and we can wax philosophic until then. I have all the time in the world to push forward.”

#FFXIVWrite2019 #FFXIV #Crystal Exarch #G'raha Tia #Crystal Exarch/WoL #G'raha Tia/WoL #Post-ShB #Established Relationship

5 notes · View notes

cosmogonyzine · 6 years

Text

STORY OF THE FATHER

« A reckless Prince. A valiant King. The story of Regis Lucis Caelum, 113th king of Lucis, has been seared into the minds of every Lucian after his brave sacrifice for his people—and his son.

He ascended to the throne after his father’s —Mors Lucis Caelum’s — death. Under his rule, Lucis knew wealth and peace, but it was thanks to his wife, Aulea, that Lucis came to know the kindest side of its King. Their story did not live for long, but their love lasted through decades after her death in the shape of their only son, Noctis. As King, Regis was dutiful and headstrong, taking the strain of maintaining the Wall around Insomnia with a grace not many people could have ever accomplished.

Before that, though, Regis got to travel through his land with four cherished friends: Cid Sophiar, founder of Hammerhead; Clarus Amicitia, the future King’s Shield; Cor Leonis, known as the Immortal, and Weskham Armaugh. Using his trusted car the Regalia as a means of transport, Regis and his friends went on a journey that his biographers assure shaped him in many ways.

Later, as father, Regis would show his many facets. After a terrifying accident in Tenebrae that almost took Noctis’ life, Regis threw himself into his role as King, even if his heart was first and foremost with his son. He was a loving father, but their relationship grew cold with age, and by the time Prince Noctis became of age, many historians believe that whatever relationship he had with his son had almost disappeared.

Still, just as many historians believe that none of this matters, for King Regis’ heart was ruled by the knowledge of the Prophecy of the True King. When Prince Noctis was still an infant, King Regis received the Prophecy from one of the Astrals: his soul would be the last to be fed to the Crystal, and it would be Noctis, his son, who would be the True King that would banish the Starscourge from Eos. After the Astral’s words, King Regis found his true purpose: he would make sure his son would have the life he deserved, despite his tragic destiny.

King Regis, The Father, found his end in the signings of a fake peace treaty with Niflheim, in Insomnia. Having sent Noctis on a journey of his own to keep him safe and away from the battle, Regis fought valiantly to his last breath against the Niflheim invaders, not without making sure to entrust the Ring of Lucii to the time’s Oracle, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. It is said that he died without a regret, knowing that, at least, his son was safe for now.

Even as the capital city fell around him.

In the end, Regis Lucis Caelum died not as a King, but as a father. It is why he has been labeled as The Father in the history books for posterity. »

Why choose Story of the Father as an era?

There is so much to tell about Regis that we haven’t seen in game, or have simply gotten glimpses of. He is a very developed character, but we feel that a Cosmogony Zine would never be complete without stories of the King who gave up everything, the one that made mistakes, who was human — and, most of all, the one who loved his son with all of his heart.

Do you want to cry at the thought of everything Regis had to go through, like we do? Turn your tears into art or stories and join us! Applications open on January 8th!

#ffxv #ffxv zine #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv zine #cosmogony zine #cosmogony: eras #regis lucis caelum

16 notes · View notes

danbevanwriting · 6 years

Text

The Ranking of Final Fantasy: Final Fantasy III

Final Fantasy III is the second game that the West didn't see an official localised version until many years later. Initially released a few years after Final Fantasy II in Japan, it was remade with a new localisation and 3D update 26 years later in 2006 on Nintendo DS. This game is important in the lineage of the series as it's the one that set the motifs of the series; Chocobos, Cid as a recurring character, Job specific actions, even some of the designs of iconic jobs that are still used today. But was the game worth the long wait for Western audiences?

The version of the game I played (and will continue to play from here on out) is the version available of Steam, which is itself a version of the mobile port. The only real differences between these versions and the DS remake is the User Interface, which I personally didn't kind too off putting despite looking a bit clunky. The content and graphics are otherwise the same as the DS version. Upfront I'll say that I like the style of the 3D remake. It retains the chibi-esque style for the characters that the series is known for during the NES/ SNES era. The world is colourful and benefits from the 3D modelling by giving the world more character through the use of added details to the floor tiles. The game was no slouch on the NES either though, it definitely improved graphics compared to previous games, with unique sprites for each job that the characters could take and battles looking more impressive than ever. It's honestly quite impressive what Square managed to do with the NES, even if there was a few assets clearly still being used from the original game (mostly world map town and castles looking very similar, and the warrior sprite being literally the same from Final Fantasy I).

Basic gameplay is untouched during the exploration of the world from previous games. You're still walking through dungeons picking up items, fighting random battles, talking to townsfolk to gather clues for how to advance forward. The wrinkle this game provided to the formula is that each character can change their 'job' whenever they want from a growing selection. This means that you're not stuck with the same class set up from the get-go like in the original game and characters more instantly specialise unlike in FF2. Bored of your current set up? Just change that White Mage to a Red Mage, or try an all offensive group of melee brawlers! In the remake the only downside to switching is that there's a 'cooling off' period after switching in which you have to fight a certain amount of battles with lowered stats before becoming normal. Stats don't carry over between jobs either, with the only permanent change being HP, which does lead to an issue where characters who didn't play much as melee characters can end the game with a disadvantageous amount of health (this is definitely something that happened to me). Overall though this is a rather fun system to experiment with, keeping me engaged throughout most of the game's playtime.

Situations that the game throws at you sometimes lead to influencing your party composition. This comes with some mixed results though. The more interesting of these is where you have to go through a dungeon while being mini, meaning that physical attacks are useless. This means that the best way through these dungeons is to bring a party of casters, which definitely mixes things up and is interesting to think and plan around. A situation which isn't as good however is during a part of the game where you're stranded in a town area and the only way to get out is to beat the boss of the area: Garuda. The problem with this part of the game is that if you don't take a party of Dragoons (which the game heavily implies you should do) then you are already dead. Only Dragoon gear is attainable and the boss' weakness is spears but this doesn't make this interesting as there's only one solution to the encounter. A similar issue occurs during a late game dungeon where the only way to get through without pulling your hair out is to bring a party of Dark Knights to stop all the normal enemies you encounter from duplicating themselves. The problem with this is that Dark Knights are basically worthless outside of this dungeon as they don't bring much of interest in terms of their abilities. The 'getting mini or turning to a toad to get in to the dungeon' gimmick also starts to wear thin by the end of the game, mostly because it wastes 2 charges of magic to get the party small or warty and then back again. It's nothing game breaking but it becomes a tired gimmick by the end of the game.

The dungeon design in general is much improved over the last game, however. Gone are the trap rooms that yielded nothing but crushed dreams and a thousand random battles. The dungeons now are a bit more linear with off shoots from the main path that more often than not have some goodies to pick up. None of them are overly complex to the point that you'd get lost and none of them ever really last too long either. Dungeons even have a bit of characteristics with them as they often have unique designs apart from a couple of the optional dungeons which are just generic cave dungeons. Otherwise they're fine, nothing to really complain about or overly praise either to be honest.

Final Fantasy III does not try to tell a story as ambitious as Final Fantasy II's, although it is still more fleshed out than the original game's. In the remake the developers tried to give each of the 4 heroes their own personality and backstory but it's rather thin and doesn't amount to much by the end. It's still more than the nothing you're given in the NES original (although your characters spoke between each other, there was never names attached to lines and they never really said anything profound). Characters in general are rather thin to be honest, there's no character dynamics I found to be memorable and even a lot of the major characters are more plot device than characters. Cid's got a wife in this one though, so that's... nice! What is interesting about the game is the world building that the game does. This isn't any more evident than when you realise that the world map you started on is only a tiny part and is actually just a small floating island in the corner of the map. You get out, and the world is covered in a thick fog that you need to disperse. It's interesting, and the build up to the Crystal Tower at the end is a fun experience as you uncover parts of the world and how the darkness has affected parts of it. The conclusion is rather limp though, with the guy you've been chasing throughout the game not actually being the last boss but actually being manipulated by an even greater threat known as the Cloud of Darkness! Gasp! This is another theme that ends up being carried forward in to the series too. Unfortunately, the Cloud of Darkness and the Crystal Tower, as cool as they are, is where I found issue with the game in general.

Up until the Crystal Tower, the game is not too hard (even with bosses in the remake attacking twice per turn) and seems overall to be well balanced. I beat most bosses on my first or second try and the fights seemed just hard enough that they were lengthy and fun. None of this is an issue until the very end of the game. You climb the Crystal Tower and nothing really poses too much of a threat: usually a good sign that you're in the right level curve to face what's coming. I reached the top, beat Xande rather easily and then Cloud of Darkness shows up and your group follows her to her realm: The World of Darkness. This is a point of no return by the way. Here, there are boss level enemies you fight in random encounters, have to fight 4 bosses with HP pools double that of Xande's, and then fight Cloud of Darkness who has 4 times his health. She has a group-wide attack originating from one of her tentacles that does massive magic damage as well as being able to attack twice herself. It's such a huge difficulty spike and it's completely unfair with it coming after a point of no return, meaning that if you fail you have to go through the whole of the Crystal Tower again, wasting a couple of hours' progress. This is such a sour note to end the game on after it being so enjoyable up until this final dungeon, it's such a shame that the game stumbles so hard on the final hurdle. It doesn't help that the way the story ends involves a contrived event that brings characters from the game with 'pure hearts of light' to help the heroes out of a jam, and for some reason, one of those characters is one of the old men who thought they were the warriors of light. A character that seemed to have been used as a joke in one of the towns. I audibly said to myself 'are you actually serious?' when it happened, it was such a bizarre plot point.

I don't wish to end this review on a sour note, however, as I can more than confidently say that the music in this game is incredible. After the disappointing showing from Final Fantasy II this is a breath of fresh air. The overworld theme has a light airy sound to it that evokes a quiet mystery, the battle themes are exciting and energetic, the boss theme is incredibly iconic. The only tracks that annoyed me were the 'liberated' theme which plays in certain towns and locations after a saving it from a major threat, and a couple of the town themes were pretty obnoxious to the point where I just wanted to get out of them as soon as I could. As it's a NES game the themes are pretty short loops, which does lessen the impact of the good songs and amplify the irritation of the lesser ones. Overall though, a big thumbs up in the music department!

To conclude then I enjoyed FF3 quite a lot overall, to the point where I stayed up late a lot to play it. I would say I enjoyed it more that the previous 2 games even though this game has flaws all of its own. The job system is great and fun but is ultimately a bit shallow, especially when comparing to games to follow (hint, hint). I would still say this is the best of the NES era games though due to it having ambition and mostly hitting the right notes, unlike Final Fantasy II. The series' biggest flaw at this point of it's life is that the plot and characters are still rather underdeveloped but they've given the games their own distinct style and gameplay that is well refined. The old games would probably be best kept to only being played by die-hard fans, even the remakes.

Current Rankings:

Final Fantasy III

Final Fantasy I

Final Fantasy II

#opinion #final fantasy #review #retro #ranking #nes #classic

12 notes · View notes

smitten-miqitten · 5 years

Text

Repost because idk how to desktop but can’t do readmore on mobile :/

Era’s past reveal fic

The Past, pt 1

Ao3 Link

Era had been suffering a series of splitting headaches not unlike those preceding a vision from the Echo. However, no such vision was forthcoming, leaving her to fight against the pain with no relief in sight. Cid worried over her, trying in vain to ease her suffering, but nothing he could do or provide was of any help. After days of fitful ‘rest’, she was finally overcome in her exhaustion, falling into a sleep so deep it in of itself was worrisome. Unwilling to let her alone, Cid held her fast to him, slowly but surely drifting off as well.

….……..

Cid found himself standing alone in a snow laden forest, the cold of which curiously lacked the bone-deep chill inherent to the locale. The edges of the area seemed to blur and fade into nothingness, solidifying only once he focused his attention in one direction or another. Breathing deep, he was overwhelmed not with the scent of the surrounding pines as one might reasonably expect, but of lavender.

Strange.

As he took in the scene around him he spied an odd blue light emanating from the distance, bouncing off the falling snow in a misty cerulean fog. A faint, intoxicating music drifted on the wind, calling him toward it. As ever, curiosity bested him and compelled him forward as surely as the music, his surroundings increasingly bathed in soothing blue. The ground and trees and snow all started to devolve into gradient around him and a great Crystal came into view. The forest and all it held dissolved impossibly into a deep blue void before the Crystal, telling him in full certainty, in the odd way dreams do, that this was far from reality.

A dream. Of course, he was dreaming. Cid berated himself for not arriving to this conclusion sooner, though, given his experiences, one might forgive him for having trouble discerning the fantastical from the real.

He paused to ponder this revelation, only to have a young Miqo'te girl run into his shins full tilt. She was frantic, evidently fleeing the Crystal in the distance. In terror she moved to hide behind him but, growing brave, instead stood in front with arms thrown wide, guarding him from the tendrils of light that pursued her.

The girl, too, cannot be real, as she is unmistakably Era – though she couldn’t possibly be more than 5 or 6. Her head barely reached past his knees, her tiny body all ears and fluffy, stubby tail. Turning her head towards him, large and twinkling periwinkle eyes gazed into his own with fear and determination. She would quit this place, but was not about to leave someone else to fall victim to whatever unearthly intentions the Crystal bore.

But of course she wouldn’t.

Not knowing what else to do and hating beyond reason how the scene made Era tremble, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, making hastily back toward the woods where the scenery carried more of the weight of reality. Tendrils of blue followed for a time, but grew weak and ceased as they passed beyond the treeline.

The pervasive feel of danger fading, Cid adjusted his hold on the child, cradling her so that she might be more comfortable. True to her apparent age, much of her earlier bravado had vanished and her eyes brimmed with fitful tears, though she stubbornly would not suffer them to fall. This youthful Era inexplicably took no issue with her rescuer being a complete stranger, knowing, as (or because) Cid did, that he was no threat.

“Thanks”, she squeaked, in a tiny voice that was both Era’s and not. This voice gave rise to a thought that had been nagging at Cid since he had fallen asleep: This is more than a dream.

Though Cid took great pride in his mind and imagination, he was under no illusion that he could dream up an Era so lifelike. She was here, with him somehow, despite appearance and circumstance. Everything around him smacked of both hyperbole and truth, as if he were participating in some abstract amalgamation of her childhood. As if to punctuate this point, a number of buildings were quickly coming into view in the distance. Her home, he thought with a certainty he could not begin to explain. The buildings gave him uncomfortable pause, however. The architecture and green hued lights were unmistakable; the town before him was Garlean.

“Whatever were you doing all the way out there? You’re from the town ahead, no? ” Cid asked, though he knew he already knew the answer. Nothing and everything felt like a mystery here.

He suspected, as strongly as one does when they know they’re right but cannot definitively say so, that the Echo must be involved. It must be. The telltale migraines should have been his first clue, but when they failed to reveal to her whatever it was they meant to show he assumed she was simply ill. That the air smelled of lavender should have been the second; it was the smell of her, her presence and her influence. How and why the vision, if it even was one, was feeding back to him was utterly beyond his comprehension. The only precedent he had was when she recovered his own memories, but this vision surely had nothing at all to do with him or his memory.

“I was looking for snowflowers and I got lost. Tutor did warn me not to wander but… the big Crystal called me. Like she was my friend, like she knew me. She’s really pretty, all big and blue and sparkly, but the way she looked at me was so scary. I don’t like it.”

“Well, I think we’re well shut of the blasted thing now; I’ll not let it hurt you while I’m here. Let’s get you home, little miss.”

Era nodded, smiling, and snuggled in closer, gripping the collar of his coat.

“Please don’t tell Mama and Papa I wandered. Tutor said not to, and if Tutor says so the Viceroy says so. They’re ever so scared of him.”

“The Viceroy takes personal interest in your family?” A province then. She grew up in a province. Northeastern Ilsabardian, if the surroundings were anything to go off of, in the mountains. Cid wasn’t quite sure how to feel, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of what she must have endured at the mercy of his homeland. A guilty part of him was not unhappy that she did not remember.

“Umm hmm. He thinks I’m clever. Cleverer than the other kids, though I don’t agree. He said that if I stay smart, and be good, that I can go to the capitol when I’m bigger.”

Fat chance of that now, huh. They had reached the streets now, eerily empty, lights lit everywhere but not a soul around. Era pointed an itty bitty finger toward a modest home just off of a large, gated complex undoubtedly meant to house the Viceroy in question. “My lips are sealed. And…and you’d like to visit? The capitol?” Though Cid bore little love for Garlemald, it had on occasion crossed his mind that he’d have liked to show his former home to her.

“Not really.”

She hardly missed a beat. Cid fought back a laugh.

“I study ‘cause if I do he’ll keep being nice to Mama and Papa. I dunno why, but he’s not nice to everyone else. That’s why the other kids don’t like me, I think, but Papa says ‘there’s no help for the jealousy of others’.” She mimicked her father’s deeper voice, failing spectacularly with her much squeakier one.

Cid supposed she was right. “Aye, but you seem pleasant enough to me. I’m sure they’ll come around.” So she’d been but a puppet for other’s convenience since childhood…

They were nearing the doors of the small house, the light emanating from the windows warmer than that of those surrounding it, undampened by the cold metal and dark stone. Inviting. Safe. He could leave her here without worry, he knew, but… to leave her to whatever abuse she was bound to face as the favorite of a provincial viceroy… though there was no avoiding it, he struggled with the thought. To hand her, his very heart, as tiny and fragile as she was now, into such arms…

“Aera! Oh my darling, we were so worried!” a woman’s voice rang out from the hastily thrown open door, the Miqo'te mother rushing toward the pair and wresting Era from Cid’s hold. A stern looking man, the father, followed not far behind. Era was the spitting image of her mother, and her father, though white haired and tan, bore uncanny resemblance to a certain Ishgardian Count.

“Mama! Papa! I’m really sorry.” Era (no, Aera) clung tightly to her mother, ears pressed back and voice sincere in its apology. Looking back to Cid, she smiled at him with a warmth he knew all too well. “I got a little lost on my way back from the library, and this mister found me and helped me home. Can he stay for supper?“

Not wishing to impose upon the family, Cid started to protest, but his curiosity and the cacophony of “Please? Pretty please?” falling from the child’s lips got the better of him. He merely smiled, shrugging at Era’s fervor. She seemed very keen that her newfound friend not vanish into the aether, and given she likely had no others he thought it fair.

Her mother eyed him warily, the center lens of his goggles to be specific, but after a brief, wordless consult with her husband she assented, asking his name and welcoming him. The smell of lavender grew stronger as she ushered him in, mingled now with the familiar scent of ceruleum, of all things. Hardly a common pairing.

Walking through, the scene dispersed into light.

……………………………………….

#ffxiv #ff14 #era hess #cid garlond #character lore #cidera #my self indulgent minifics #idk how to readmore on mobile

8 notes · View notes