#Sights of Eorzea

[leonaquitaine]

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[quad-weave]

"To strive for a dream you will never see--to sow seeds that others might one day taste the fruits of your garden--that is the beauty of your kind."

A picture I did for a Sights of Eorzea Community Challenge! The theme was 'ephemeral'. :)

[agent-jaselin]

I love Astarion's comments on the astral and regular globes.

Like he mentions that he's seen very little of the world, hasn't ever really gotten to leave Baldur's Gate.

But his other comment is "not just a world to explore, but a whole Cosmos!"

and he just sounds so damn exited? About the potential to explore his own world and worlds beyond. Kind of like how excited he is to see a pixie , I love it.

[anneapocalypse]

I have now found one place Urianger's family is mentioned, Encyclopedia Eorzea vol. 3, and only because the fandom wiki references it:

When he was young, Urianger's parents were deeply engrossed in their research into the occult, leaving Urianger often unattended. His neighbor, Bloewyda Uwilsyngwyn, couldn't bear the sight of the young child being alone, and so offered to raise him in his parents' stead. Urianger's parents thanked Boewyda profusely before leaving for parts unknown, and so it was that Urianger was welcomed into the family of Bloewyda, her husband Wilfsunn, and their daughter Moenbryda.

(Quote is from the wiki, not the book, and it might be a paraphrase, but that's what I've got at the moment.)

And Jesus Christ, this is just... heartbreaking to me. You would think that a pair of scholars would be thrilled to raise a kid like Urianger and share their knowledge with him and encourage him in his own education. The fact that vol. 1 references Moenbryda as helping him enter the Studium always needled me because like? Knowing who Urianger is today and extrapolating backwards, I would have needed exactly zero explanation for why and how he entered the Studium and became an archon. If there's any character who doesn't require an explanation for that, it's Urianger! "Scholar" is his entire character concept. You could tell us he was born an archon and we'd probably half believe it. So Moenbryda being mentioned in that way always seemed Significant, for that reason and for the unspoken question, Where were his parents in this? Did they not care about their kid's education? Like I was on the verge of concluding that his parents were gleaners or laborers or otherwise not scholars themselves, and that's why they were so absent from his life.

But nope. They were apparently just so wrapped up in their own research that they functionally abandoned him with the neighbors. "...before leaving for parts unknown." The fuck. I wonder if he even knows where they are, or if they're completely estranged at this point. I wonder if he's ever angry at them, or if he's just so deeply internalized the idea that there was always something legitimately more important than him and his happiness... which he has maybe carried into his adult worldview in a big way. I can't imagine this not having massive implications for why his self-image is... the way it is. Certainly he had love and care in his childhood thanks to Moenbryda's family, but still... you don't forget something like that.

[umbralaether]

miqomarch day 1 — introduction

Eisha Pantera is known by many titles, but is most commonly referred to as Eorzea’s very own Warrior of Light. A Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te hailing from Limsa Lominsa, she is often found enjoying the sea air on her beachfront cottage in Limsa with her husband, G’raha Tia, and two peculiar-looking cactuar she claims to have found on the moon.

In her spare time, she enjoys cooking, reading, and seeing new sights. Rumor has it, she is planning a trip to somewhere far across the sea. Who knows what adventures await her?

[nyxnephilim]

Time for a bit of FFXIV speculation :

I realize that a bulk of FFXIV players have already completed the whole of the story arc ( probably more than one time ) so please don't hold it against this 🌱 while I think-out-loud about my feelings towards the story so far even if I'm still experiencing ARR.

( also pls no spoilers, but I appreciate encouragement and assurance my questions will get answered. Lol )

Somethings have been picking at my brain since I encountered them. One of which is when the Amal'Jaa are surprised we do not fall to tempering stating our "soul must belong to another" and then Ifrit himself says that while he can see we do not already serve a primal that the paragons warned the Primals about the godless-blessed one's aborrent existence. Does that mean that while we may or may not be tempered by a primal we are controlled/ guided by some 'other' thing outside the paragons or the 12. If we are being Guided/controlled by what we don't quite understand but is big enough or strong enough for the paragons & primals to worry about —- should we be worried about its overall motive & can it truly be benevolent and omniscient with that much power? Does it seek to follow through with its own agenda regardless of the plight of others.

The reason I say this is because of another encounter that seems to stick in my mind. A point in which Y'stola chastises Merlwyb for breaking the treaty with the Kolbolds. She basically says and has a solid point (that I had already thought of before this scene) when she tells Merlwyb that this constant war with the Kobolds was of her own doing in letting Lominsans break the treaty. The kolbolds are just defending themselves. Or course there is an a back and forth that ensues but the point being both Merlwyb and the Kobolds are doing what they believe to be right for justice sake and for the sake & safety of their people.

I extrapolated this further. What makes us, the scions, so sure that what WE are doing is right? Because a giant crystal says so? We kill gods/primals and move against another society that perhaps (outside of their military) could possibly be wanting freedom and peace like those of Eorzea do. What of the Garlemald society? They can't be all military. Its not hard to believe that there are some suffering at our hands because of what their military decided to do, not them. I guess essentially what I'm saying is, how are we so certain we are not falsely lead to believe what we do is just and right when what we do is kill gods/primals, murder tribes on sight because of who they are and pushing our agenda on them. There is point where there is a kobold says that those of their community at war with us do not represent the whole of their society. … and I hear that the crafting questline with the different tribes show us that not all of the their race want to fight. So is it hard to reason that perhaps not all Ishgardians hate dragons? That not all dragons hate the elezen. That not all Garleans follow their military and that perhaps what we perceive as right may only be a perspective of one cosmologic being with enough power to have us believe in what they want?

on top of the fact that the Ascians say ' if we knew more, that we wouldn't be fighting with them.... that we would basically understand’ ... leaves me feeling 🤯

What the hell is going on? I know mother crystal is our main guide... but tbh I'm feeling pretty sus about things and honestly the motives of Hydaelyn. I realize they are presenting her as a mothering ‘goddess’ but I’ve always been the type of kid to ask “why”

The answer of ‘just because’ … ‘because I said so’….. ‘because this is how it’s always been done’ ….. ‘because I’m the boss’…..

Has NEVER sat well with me. As a kid or now. With my parents, with teachers, with management or upper level bosses. I need to know the why, the motives, the implications or consequences, the benefits. I need this information because the end does not always justify the means. Especially if on a core level I disagree with it and feel there is an alternate route.

That probably says more about me then I intended but yeah… lol

... anyhow.... thank you for letting me just babble on about the beginning of this ( I'm sure to be ) wild ride we all know and love called FFXIV.

:::: Newbie rant over ::::

[theexiledviera]

Tiefling Glam Run of Dun Scaith

@leonaquitaine hosted an event for a tiefling/demon themed run of Dun Scaith in his Sights of Eorzea Discord. I had a great time meeting everyone who came and we shared a lot of laughs and good vibes.

With @thomaeshawk and @srinityff

[aethernoise]

2. bark

This prompt reminded me to return to a very old WIP idea that I will likely never finish. It may simply be the fic equivalent of writing an angry letter and never sending it - self-care, if anything, in face of grave injustices.

Set in 5.2, inspired by the opening quests of the Sorrows of Werlyt. CW for mild violence.

•

She wanted to spit in his face, but her mouth was dry from anger.

"I don't give a shit about your regrets," she hissed, "They mean nothing to me. They mean nothing to the millions of innocent lives you've taken and the millions more you have ruined forever."

Gaius' face remained stony in the dim light.

"You needn’t list my sins, I know them all full well," he said. "I would never attempt to request your forgiveness, only cooperation--”

"Here is my cooperation, Baelsar," she cut him off. "You are alive at this moment because I will it.”

The corner of his mouth twisted ruefully.

“You would kill an unarmed man in cold blood? It seems we are both a far cry from our former selves.”

“Shut up.” 

"Do it, then, if you must. Say the words, Defender of Eorzea. Prove you're not all bark and no bite. Even if you paint the Royal Palace red with my blood, it will do nothing to stop what is coming."

There was a loud crack and a flash. Gaius grunted and slumped onto the floor. The aether was so loud in Alyx’s ears, she didn’t hear Raubahn’s voice booming down the hall.

“Alyx!”

There was a small singe on the front of Gaius’ coat, leaking a faint smell of burned leather. She remained transfixed on the mark while his chest slowly rose and fell.

“Alyx! Seven hells, what have you done?”

“He’s fine,” she said flatly.

“I cannot say he didn’t have it coming,” Raubahn said with the hint of a chuckle, and Alyx almost gave herself neck strain with the speed she turned to look up at him.

“Nothing compared to what he deserves. He doesn’t even deserve to be here, walking free in our home--” Her fingers clenched, shoulders squared against trembling with anger. “Raubahn, how could you?”

“Do you think I want him here?” His voice was hushed, his enormous shadow tense, black eyes flashing with ferocity. “Do you truly think I welcomed him as a friend with open arms?!”

Alyx had the dim awareness that anyone sane would be completely terrified to be rounded upon by General Aldynn in such a manner, but another awareness reminded her that she could knock him on his arse too if she had to.  

“How am I supposed to know? You certainly looked chummy enough,” she spat, “Standing there next to him like a gods damned diplomat, like he wasn’t the one responsible fo--”

His giant, calloused hand seized her arm. The hold was not ungentle, but the sheer weight of him rooted her to the spot. 

“And what would you have me do?” His voice had lowered to a rumbling growl like an earthquake. “Execute him on sight? Drag him through the streets? He came to us in peace, and with information vital to our survival--”

“And you trusted him!” 

“We have no reason not to.”

“My gods, do you even hear yourself?!”

“We have no choice. I have no choice.” Alyx opened her mouth to disagree, but he continued: “I will not put our borders at further risk out of pride. I cannot afford to refuse help, even from the most hated of sources. If Ala Mhigo is to survive--if Eorzea is to survive--it cannot depend only on you forever, Alyx.”

Her heart hammered in her ears, but she had no rebuttal. The General went on:

"Someday, Rhalgr forbid, you might not be here. What if something were to happen to you? What would become of us? I know full well what you're capable of, but I know you cannot be everywhere at once."

A soft groan from below - Gaius was waking up. As soon as Raubahn's grip slackened enough, Alyx pulled her arm free. 

"Fine. Do what you will." Her voice was low, robbed of much of its former power. "But please, do not ask me to work with him."

Alyx didn't wait for confirmation. Instead she turned to leave before she could regret anything more.

[gatheredfates]

SEA'S COMMUNITY COMPENDIUM UPDATE

I've decided to use this kind of layout for updates going forward! Hopefully it's easy to read / digest for anyone who might be interested.

As of today (02/06) I have added the following communities.

LARGE SCALE

Fisherman's Horizon added

Sights of Eorzea added

FREE COMPANY & COMMUNITY FOCUSED

The Starlight Initiative added (also includes @starlightinitiative).

MISC

FFXIV Event Calendar added (also includes a link to @balmungrpcalendar and patreon).

I have also overhauled the Google Form to be friendlier when it comes to people submitting Large Scale and Miscellaneous resources/servers. The major changes are the clarification around short-blurbs (you can just copy paste a sites' blurb or a discords' about us), the ability to put N/A for a contact, and a tick-box agreement that the community or resource is publicly available and endorsed as such. That way people may not feel as daunted to submit things that aren't theirs. This only applies for these two categories, though; I still require permission from owners/admins for the other categories.

I am still on the hunt for Free Company & Community Focused Servers (including events) and Friend / Casual servers. If you are a part of a server that falls under these parameters, consider getting in touch with your admins to submit to the Compendium! They do not need to be on Tumblr to submit; I just ask that a contact be provided should I need to get in touch about activity/updates. If they're cool with a weird, out of the blue discord friend-request that may or may not happen in the next few months, volunteer them. >:)

I also don't mind if people want to link the compendium in their discord(s). Though my focus is on Tumblr, the main idea is to have a resource that isn't locked behind Discord. If you link this on your discord to find other discords... that's okay with me!

I am undecided on whether or not I want to include mod servers at this point. If I'm being honest, I don't keep up with them, and I know a lot are defunct due to their owners abandoning them or drama around the teams. If there is enough demand, I'll include them. Right now, the only one I'm likely to consider is the Dalamud launcher and I want to marinate on whether it's worth it some more.

I may consider an email or alternative contact as well if the project gets large enough and not everyone uses Tumblr. In the meantime, you can message me here or just DM/@ me on ofsaltandseas on Twitter.

[reap-the-game]

captainqster:

The Shroud was a forest, or maybe a woodland. He hardly knew the difference. Either way it was no jungle. The trees were less sturdy. Their boughs were unimpressive. Still, Ilya made use of them. He navigated the canopy high up in pursuit of a wayward trio of Garleans who had left their station to cause trouble in a small village. They were perhaps a half-day ahead of him, and he’d been trailing them steadily since the late evening before when a hysterical Eorzean woman begged his intervention. They’ve stolen our crops, she cried. They’ve torched our woodshed, she shrieked. Oh, and they gave my husband a good knocking about, she told him with less upheaval. Through this, Ilya had regretted the visibility of his bow with a scrunched-up nose. These people had a sixth sense for adventurers, even if he was only one on paper and not in heart. He finally sighed and agreed to chase this trio of troublemakers back over the Shroud’s border. Or kill them if necessary, though he felt no particular way about it. If asked, Ilya would say that Garleans were a blight, and he’d say it without feeling. It was an old sentiment learned from his mentor who’d had no enthusiasm about anything besides himself. But that was what Ilya had been taught. Garleans were a blight. Just kill them and be done. So he tailed said blight. The moment he saw their backs he meant to send an arrow through each one and call it good. He trotted and jumped from bough to bough, sure-footed and silent, and the knives at his belt were a last resort. A hood hid his Vieran ears, which lay flat against his head, a thing which impacted his hearing to an annoying but not crucial degree. A veil of dark mesh covered his face. The last thing he wanted was to make a name for himself. Who knew who might come knocking if word went ‘round that a Viera of his description was traipsing around Eorzea fixing things, for gods’ sake.

He’d just heard the rumblings, passing through as he was. Garleans, sighted in the Shroud. First there was the familiar feel of his heart picking up pace until it was hammering in his chest, so loud in his ears he was always surprised none of the other races seemed to hear it—he would have bet a Viera would have. His mouth dried, every sense sharpened painfully and every part of him told him flight... And yet, with long practice he hid his nerves to the best of his ability, blinking without care. Ask how many. Not many. No definitive numbers, but maybe three? Good enough. Not too many. Most likely. And even if it turned out to be more than that, he could always turn around and leave with no one none the wiser to his presence. He needn’t commit to anything. So he bid the people good luck with their Garleans and continued on his way after paying them for some foodstuffs. But even if a part of him told him to not bother, what did it gain him– Irrational things, it gained him. Vengeance. He knew the chances of them having anything personally to do with him were abysmal, but that was what reason said. Fuck reason, whispered a more emotional side of him. Make them pay. Here’s a chance. That was the side he listened to. It was a simple enough task to loop back around to check the area where they had been seen last and to pick up their trail. It didn’t look like they were making that big an effort to hide their tracks. Overconfidence or stupidity? Either way, it would cost them. There was no part of him that was at ease, but determination mingled with the trepidation and drove him onward. Sometimes walking, sometimes jogging, at times running outright along the forest floor, always making sure he was on the right path and not losing his heading from where he wanted it to be. His rests were short but enough—not like he could still very well anyway, not from how jittery he was feeling. He wanted this over with. He’d never know peace if he didn’t get them, if he lost this opportunity, but pursuing that goal certainly lost him all of his more momentary peace as well. Better that than the alternative, though. Better this than walking away and forever thinking how he could have, if he just hadn’t been a coward. He wasn’t that far off anymore, Gia concluded after stopping to make certain the incautious tracks he was following were still the right ones. His red-tipped ears turned as he scanned the area with all of his senses, rotating his shoulders against the weight of his scythe at his back. Safely with him, ready to unleash some bloody payback... When the time came. Not yet. He was straightening himself from his crouch when a sound caught his attention. Barely there, just a rustle, really. Was he wrong about how far from his quarry he was? But no, that didn’t add up. Upright ears twitched when they informed him the subtle sound was coming from... Up? That was no animal, was it?

[sasslett]

A Night Beneath the Stars

I got to borrow Rowan from @tallbluelady for my FFXIVSwap partner, and so I made her a lil' drabble and some gpose to go along!

“Pray tell, where dost thou intend to go?”

Rowan merely flashed Urianger a grin, gently grasping his hand and tugging him towards Revenant’s Toll’s aetheryte. 

“You shall see soon enough.” Raising her palm, she channeled her aether, feeling for her destination, a place beyond mortal means, yet familiar all the same. In a flash, the two were gone, their feet hitting solid ground once more upon the white-carved platform of Zenith. 

“The abode of the great wyrm Hraesvelgr…” 

Of course, she hadn’t been surprised that Urianger knew where they were - well, not terribly surprised, for the gods themselves knew the man was nothing short of a mystery, even to her. 

Yet, she loved him all the same. 

She turned to see him staring at the great, white spire in awe, shining in the light of the moon above. But it wasn’t the architecture - nor the great wyrm - for which she’d brought him there that eve. 

“This way.” His hand still safely tucked away in hers, she gently tugged him down the aged, broken steps, away from the aetheryte and through the ruins dotting the landscape, until she reached her destination - the very edge of the land, nothing but clouds beneath and stars above. 

“Look at them,” she murmured in wonder, plopping herself down on the ground - for there was nowhere else in all of Eorzea that rivaled the view of the heavens, each star twinkling so bright, she felt she could almost lift her hand and caress them. 

“A brilliant sight to behold,” Urianger agreed, settling himself down beside her. “Recognize thou the constellations?” 

Slowly, she nodded, her eyes flickering across the sky - admittedly, she was quite inexperienced in the ways of astrology, thus far, yet there were a few clusters which stood out in her memory. 

“That one,” she pointed above, “that is Nymeia, is it not?” 

“Indeed. The goddess of fate, ever watching. And see you Althyk beside?” Urianger motioned above, Rowan’s eyes moving to trace the familiar sigil in the sky. “Her dearest brother, guardian of space and time. Yet thou knowest full well the wisdom of astrology relieth not upon the guidance of the Twelve, but the gifts they have given to the star. To wit, recalleth the Bole - planted by Nophica, raised by Althyk in all their wisdom, to which giveth life to the star.”

This, she knew, of course - the earliest of her astrology lessons, the foundation upon which it was built - yet she was content to let him speak regardless, tilting her head as he continued on, studying his handsome features, illuminated only by the moon above… So lost had she been in his beauty that she’d scarce noticed he’d concluded his tale; only when he cleared his throat did she shake herself from her stupor, meeting his golden-eyed gaze to find him grinning softly at her. 

“Yet, for all their beauty and wisdom,” he murmured, reaching up to gently wrap his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close, “their brilliance pales in comparison to that of thine, my fabled Warrior of Light. For even in the darkest of nights, thine light shines in my heart without equal, and so shall it always, for the rest of my waking days.”

[leonaquitaine]

Virtual Photography Guide: Composition (Part 2)

Let's continue exploring composition with a few more guidelines used in real-life photography, together with some FFXIV examples!

Rule of Thirds

The Rule of Thirds involves dividing the viewport into a 3x3 grid by drawing two horizontal lines and two vertical lines, resulting in nine equally sized rectangles. According to the rule, placing key elements of interest along these gridlines or at their intersections create harmonious compositions and draws the viewer's eye in a visually pleasing and balanced way:

Rule of Odds

The Rule of Odds suggests that using an odd number of elements, such as three or five, tends to be more visually interesting and engaging compared to an even number. The Rule of Odds can be used to create a sense of asymmetry, tension, and visual flow:

Rule of Space

The Rule of Space emphasizes leaving empty space or room within the frame, specifically in the direction that the subject or elements are moving or looking towards. It adds a sense of direction or movement and allows the viewer to engage with the image more effectively:

Golden Ratio

The Golden Ratio, also known as the Divine Proportion or Phi (Φ), is a mathematical concept and compositional guideline used in various art forms. It is a ratio of approximately 1.618:1 and is considered aesthetically pleasing to the human eye. In photography, dividing the frame into sections based on the Golden Ratio and positioning important subjects or focal points along these divisions creates a visually appealing and balanced composition. That way, compositions that feel harmonious and naturally pleasing:

So there you have it! while not comprehensive, these guidelines may help create shots that are engaging and pleasing to the eye.

You can now find this and all the previous guides and reference materials in our Discord server, Sights of Eorzea. Come check it out!

[sezja]

Undercover

"I volunteer to sleep on the floor."

"Don't be daft; have you seen the size of that bed," Guydelot says, thrusting the curtains open to let in the beautiful island sunshine. He hasn't stopped grinning since they'd received this assignment; Sanson's almost sure of it. Under vastly different circumstances, Sanson might have also welcomed the chance to spend three weeks - or more! - in a tropical paradise, with his every expense paid for by the Twin Adder... but despite appearances (and in spite of what Guydelot seems eager to believe), they are on duty.

Matron save me, what a duty.

Sanson unceremoniously drops his bags on the cabin floor beside Guydelot's, and sinks heavily to a seat on one of the generously-upholstered loveseats. Idly, anxiously, he twists the unfamiliar gold ring on his finger, pretending his hands are only sweaty due to the island heat. Fighting nausea. Failing. He struggles with the urge to snatch up one of the pillows that he might scream himself hoarse into it, letting loose all of his bewildered frustration: at this mission, at this entire situation, at himself for accepting it-

"You don't have to be so glum about it." His bardly companion, showing none of Sanson's own reservations, drops himself onto the other side of the loveseat without needing any invitation. "How often do we get a mission someplace nice, eh? At least it ain't Ishgard again. Or Garlemald." Guydelot stretches, draping one long arm across the back of the seat. "Tropical paradise, a proper beach, ocean waves to lull us to sleep-"

"And a serial murderer on the loose," Sanson cuts in, waspish. "You do recall this is no pleasure jaunt?"

Unfazed by his partner's temper - and why should he be, after five years of working together; who knows Sanson's moods better than Guydelot? - the bard grins again, holding his hands up in playful surrender. "Aye, Chief; sat through the same orders you did, didn't I? I'm just saying..." His gaze wanders toward the window again. The warm breeze wafting in carries the tang of salt, and the cries of gulls in the near distance confirms it: they're far from the familiar boughs of the Twelveswood. "I'm just saying," Guydelot continues, letting his hand fall back behind Sanson again, giving a lock of his hair a teasing tug. "The Cieldalaes are a damn sight better than Abalathia."

Some of Sanson's indignation cools. He sighs, resting his face in his hands. Muffled, he says, "I know. 'Tis only..."

Gods, but it's only a dozen things, isn't it? Sanson has never needed to serve undercover before this, nor did he ever wish to do so; he is no actor, and this requires some skill at thinking on his feet...

But the Maelstrom required aid from someone not known to miscreants native to Vylbrand, for a hunt that's left even the vaunted - albeit dubious, to Sanson's rigid view of the law - Rogues' Guild stymied. And so they'd turned to the Order of the Twin Adder, desperate for fresh faces to put an end to the grisly string of gruesome killings happening in a most unlikely place.

A pair of retired adventurers had purchased one of the many desirable Cieldalaes islands... and industriously set about turning it into a couples' retreat, transforming their own considerable fortunes into comfort and luxury for lovebirds all across Eorzea. What had begun as a modest venture had evolved into a truly high-end experience, rivaling that of the Manderville Gold Saucer, or even the most palatial estates of Ul'dah - of a certainty, the sort of accommodations Sanson and Guydelot couldn't hope to afford without the substantial backing of the Twin Adder. It lured in wealthy couples by the hundreds from as far as Kugane, eager to bask in the romantic island surroundings, far from prying eyes...

But something very wrong has happened here.

In recent moons, those couples have been turning up dead - dead and robbed, divested of whatever wealth they brought with them to the island. Distraught, the owners had reached out to the Maelstrom...

And that's where we come in, Sanson thinks, his stomach in knots. A pair of naive Gridanians who, miraculously, haven't heard the first thing about murders happening in our beautiful vacation home.

If it were just that, if it were only that, only the murders to be solved and the murderer brought to justice...

"It's the part where we're supposed to be madly in love," Guydelot supplies, after the silence stretches a little too long. "Am I right?"

Sanson groans in response, still muffled in his hands.

Guydelot, damn the man, laughs, letting his head drop back against the seat. He'd laughed himself to tears when they'd been briefed on the mission, too, all while Sanson stared in numb disbelief at their far-too-amused commander. Surely there had to be a better pair of officers they could have sent - someone better-suited to detective work; someone tried and tested with this sort of thing...

But no, Commander Heuloix had assured him; no, there were no others, and Sanson and Guydelot's teamwork made them ideal for the mission. Which, Sanson supposes, must be a politic way of saying that Guydelot has a knack for getting people to say more than they intended, and that he has a knack for persuading Guydelot to focus on his work. And they do work well together. For the past five years, since their fateful hunt for the Ballad of Oblivion, they've been nigh-inseparable; the best of friends, the most unlikely of teams. They balance one another: the twin leads of Sanson's unit, and together, they've led that unit to victory time and again-

But that hardly makes them suited to pretend to be lovers!

Guydelot stops to catch his breath, letting his laughter trail off into quiet chuckles. He rests a hand on the back of Sanson's neck, gently tugging him back upright. Sanson lets his hands fall heavily into his lap with a sigh.

"I cannot do this."

"Sure you can," Guydelot says, reaching for his harp - of course he didn't leave home without his harp; he could no more leave it behind than he could his head. He strums a quiet, calming melody. "Shouldn't be all that hard, eh? You've just gotta convince everyone we happen to meet that you're in love with the most dashingly handsome elezen they've ever seen. Easiest job in the world."

Sanson casts the man a withering glare - wasted, of course, as the bard's eyes are on his harp. "It isn't so simple."

"Sure it is. You've never pretended to be in love with someone before?"

"No."

"Sanson the Saint," Guydelot sings with a grin, winking at him. Winking. Sanson stifles the urge to kick the man's shin. Guydelot sets his harp aside once more, studying his own hands... and the gold ring on one finger, matching the one Sanson's wearing. "The rings were a nice touch," the bard remarks, plucking his off to study it more closely. "This sort of place attracts honeymooners."

Sanson realizes he's been fretfully twisting his own ring again - he's worn the thing for only a few days, but nervous habits develop quickly. "Honeymooners," he repeats, dismal.

"Aye, but I'm thinking we ain't honeymooners," Guydelot continues, sliding his ring back on. "You and me, we've been married a while; a few years, say-"

"Five years?" Sanson offers the suggestion wryly, but the bard nods.

"Aye, sure, five years. Might as well. You remember what Celaine said; we bicker like an old married couple? We've got it down to an art already. But the spark's gone out, I reckon; we got married too young. And this trip's a last-ditch effort to rekindle the old flame, such as it is." He lifts his eyebrows, eyeing Sanson sidelong. "I reckon it's as good a reason as any for us being a little less cozy in public."

Sanson stares. "That... that's well-considered," he manages. The knot of anxiety begins to unravel. "Still-"

"Still, you're going to have to put in a little effort to act as though you want that spark rekindled." Guydelot drapes his arm behind Sanson again, letting it rest on the midlander's shoulders this time. "And for gods' sakes, Sanson, be a little less stiff," he adds, cheery. "You're meant to be on vacation! If whoever's doing all this killing gets one look at you, they'll see military man just rolling off you like a bad smell."

He wants to argue, but knows better.

Instead, he shrugs the bard's arm away, rising. "Help me unpack," he says. "We'll not be living out of our packs while we're here, and we'd best get familiar with our base of operations, such as it is. We won't want for space." Not with a cabin big enough for a small family - the bedroom suite alone is nearly twice the size of some apartments Sanson has seen, and the kitchen could serve an entire family. Doubtless many of the island's visitors brought retainers to tend to their every whim...

But they've only brought themselves.

And may the Matron help us.

[agent-jaselin]

I like ti think post game Astarion and Calem sort of switch between staying at Astarion’s place in Faerun and Calem’s place in Eorzea. So after a fee visits, someone catches sight of the new mystery “scion” with the Warrior of Light and decides to make a wind up mammet of him.

Tataru intercepts the goldsmith before it can be put in production, and takes the prototype and gives it to Calem, who gives it to Astarion. (For himself to keep if he wants, and to decide if he wants to cut a merchandise deal.)

It has an independent nature and will “fight” alongside you in battle. It’s standing animations are brushing itself off, bowing, and doing tricks with its dagger.

[thefreelanceangel]

An alternate version of Anna that... well... isn't a demonic cannibal would still be heavily invested in magical mastery due to her limited capability to use aether. However, GoodAU Anna learned extreme precision in her spellcasting, focusing on defense and sustainability. Her years working with the Arcanists' Guild paid off when she befriended Mogmi, a moogle she nursed back to health when her husband Seifer found him injured.

Instead of bonding with a fairy, GoodAU Anna bonded with Mogmi, allowing him to augment her spellcasting abilities for greater efficiency. While they enjoyed journeying together, learning about the various cultures on Eorzea, it wasn't until they traveled with the Warrior of Light and the Scions to Ultima Thule that (GAu) Anna really came into her own.

Something in the sight of the stars clicked for her and she rushed to explore every inch of the furthest edge of the universe. When the Endsinger was defeated and travel between Ultima Thule, the moon, and Old Sharlayan became more reasonable, GoodAU Anna opted to return to the end of the universe.

Not necessarily to study astronomy or astrology, as she didn't possess the ability to channel aether in such a way, but to explore and... just maybe... to see what dynamis could accomplish.

Her expertise in botany and alchemy paid off in ways she could never imagine, leading to the building of the Café at the End of the Universe. Guiding the restored members of long dead cultures into rebuilding fragments of their home worlds gave her profound joy. GoodAU Anna opted to establish a small residence in Ultima Thule in order to greet any other star travelers.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #30: Denouement

Prompt: amity || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: I'm a little sad I have to break my streak of "tear out my readers' hearts" with my last prompt fill of the challenge, but alas, the prompt just did not at all work with the idea seed I had on the backburner. Ah well, always next year! Instead, we come full circle. :)

--

Were he still a wet-behind-the-ears sixteen-year-old, Alphinaud imagined he would probably be crediting himself for the sight before him.

Synnove’s yard was crammed with tables and chairs dragged from her house or hurriedly purchased from the carpenters at Red Rooster Stead, arranged in such a way as to ensure the riot of color that was her garden remained relatively unscathed. The core of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were all present—himself, Alisaie, Thancred, Y’shtola, Urianger, Estinien, Krile, Tataru, G’raha, and the four Warriors of Light—and not for the first time, he stifled a giggle at the sight of half their number all bearing white hair. Rereha had a point that they seemed to collect them, particularly after they practically bullied Estinien into joining.

(A pang throbbed in his heart; he missed the acerbic wit of Papalymo, and wondered how the thaumaturge would have gotten along with their newer members.)

There were Hoary Boulder and Coultenet, and Ochre Boulder and the Cockburne sisters, and Riol and F’lhaminn. There were former Scions, too—Lyse, of course, currently engaged in a three-way push-up competition with his sister and Dancing Heron, but also Arenvald and J’moldva and V’mah, cheering them on.

It was the ones who had never been Scions that were the most astounding guests.

Ser Aymeric was the least surprising, though at one point in time he might have been the most shocking one to see, considering Ishgard’s self-imposed isolation. He sat next to Synnove, the pair of them each with a carbunclet on their lap, the both of them deep in discussion with Thancred, Lucia (on a brief leave from the Ilsabard Contingent), Hilda, and Raubahn Aldynn. Nearby, Synnove’s aetherophysics advisor from her student days, Mhaslona, and Admiral Merlwyb presided over the large pit in which the food for the clam bake was cooking, the Admiral not hesitating to shove Ivar away with her foot whenever the ruby carbuncle came over to try to burrow into the coals.

At another table, Nanamo Ul Namo, Kan-E-Senna, and Rereha were introducing Lord Hien to Tonk; Alphinaud wasn’t sure who looked stranger to his eye in such casual dress, the Sultana or the Elder Seedseer. Perhaps the Seedseer; Kan-E wasn’t quite as focused on the cardgame, half her attention given over to a discussion with the Scion mages and Y’shtola keeping her wineglass topped off. And it looked like Nanamo and Rereha were using Kan-E’s distraction surreptitiously teaching Hien either how to count cards or how to quickly reshuffle the draw deck, with the Doman king’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

Alakhai, Estinien, and Yugiri in a knife-throwing competition was probably the least strange sight today.

From his place perched on the fence surrounding the yard, Alphinaud smiled and shook his head. Once, he had thought he had all the knowledge and answers to solve Eorzea’s problems; surely all the city-states needed was to be led in the right direction. His direction.

The arrogance of it.

“What’s got you so maudlin?”

He glanced over and smiled at his twin, who smiled back even as she easily hauled herself up onto the fence next to him.

“The arrogance of youth,” he drawled.

Alisaie snorted, and looked out over the yard. As always, he didn’t need to explain further for her to grasp what he meant; he dearly wished she would give herself more credit for her perceptiveness. “Well, it’s not like we played no part in the fate of the star,” she said.

“True,” Alphinaud said. Without thinking about it, he began tapping out a rhythm against the fence board with his heels. Alisaie joined in a moment later. “And it certainly it turned out far better than we ever dreamed.”

“I can’t believe the Sultana cheats at cards,” Alisaie muttered.

Alphinaud stifled a giggle. “I can,” he said. “She’s always had a bit of a devious streak.”

“And Rereha and the Admiral carefully cultivated it like an orchid in a hothouse.”

There was no stopping his laughter at that.

It wasn’t correct to say that everyone here was the dearest of friends, but the ease with which they all let down their barriers spoke of their mutual respect, that this time was an opportunity to rest and enjoy the fruits of all their labors. It had taken work to get here: Eorzea united, truly united, for the first time in their history, Ala Mhigo and Doma freed from the Garlean yoke, the Ascians gone with Zodiark and Hydaelyn and the Final Days.

And what better way to celebrate than with an old Scion tradition of gathering for food and drink and good company? The Final Days were averted and, most importantly, all four of the Warriors of Light were now declared fully hale and whole, no longer under the baleful eyes of the Sharlayan healer corps.

They were the true lynchpin to this wondrous gathering, the Warriors of Light. Everyone here had played some role in where they all were today, but without the four women around whom they orbited, would they have done it at all? Would they have defeated Gaius van Baelsar, or ended the Dragonsong War, or freed Doma and Ala Mhigo, saved the First, saved all of existence from the grief and loneliness of the Ancients echoing through time?

Alphinaud didn’t think so. It was their tenacity, their compassion, their utter ridiculousness, that truly brought all these people together and gave their star hope for a better future. Not that he’d be able to convince the four of them of that.

Well. Maybe one of them, though even she was more likely to merely play it up for humor rather than actually believe it.

“Oi, Alisaie! Bunny!”

Speak of the devil.

“Not that name,” Alphinaud groaned. It had been years since that accursed nickname had been leveled on him.

Rereha cackled as she bounded over to them. “Baby bunny,” she said, sing-song, “your hair is the same color as the loporrits’ fur. Your favorite color scheme for clothing is the same as theirs. You are ‘bunny’ forever!”

Alisaie threw back her head and laughed as he dropped his face into his hands. He took it all back, at least about Rereha Reha. She was a menace to society and it was a miracle she hadn’t incited an international incident by sleeping with the wrong person.

The pink-haired lalafell reached out with both hands, grinning. Alisaie took her right hand with a matching grin, and Alphinaud let out a put upon sigh—feigned, of course—but took Rereha’s left. Rereha tugged gently, and the twins hopped off the fence, letting her drag them across the yard as she skipped backwards.

“We’re putting a handicap on Heron for the push-up contest,” she said, “and we need both of you for it!”

“Why not just use Tyr?” Alphinaud said.

“Heron still has some limits right now, and Healingway will kill her if she exceeds them.”

Alisaie snorted a laugh, though Alphinaud was certain Rereha wasn’t exaggerating.

As they traversed the length of the yard to the corner where Heron and Lyse were, a flash of iridescent blue caught Alphinaud’s eye. He turned his head to follow it.

A small flock of bluebirds, each with a pair of long, graceful tailfeathers, were flitting above the yard, one with a sunflower bloom in its beak, and if he didn’t know better, he would have assumed they were playing a game of keep-away. The birds twirled and danced through the air before winging their way to perch on the lowest hanging branch of the oak tree in Synnove’s yard, from which hung a swing that currently played host to a napping Galette. The bluebird with the sunflower was in the middle of the flock, and even from here, Alphinaud could see her sharing the seeds with her sisters, as birdsong joined the chorus of chatter and laughter in the yard.

Alphinaud grinned as he followed his sister and their friend, and wondered what new adventures—and new friends—awaited them all on the morrow.

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