#Vierapril Rest

[cadrenebula]

Vierapril - Day 3 Rest

[candycryptids]

Vierapril Day 6: Bloom

So the thing about Tuesday- he’s got loyalty in his bones. He’s also incredibly soft for big women.

And. Peatie is a delicate little flower who he would, and will, swear his undying loyalty to the moment she shows so much as a hint of feeling safe/comforted around him. Everyone be nice to Peatie and her new bodyguard who will blow you up to pieces if you’re mean to her.

[mochigobrrrrrrr]

𝒱𝒾𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓁 𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝟥: 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝓉

Sometimes it's nice being lazy...

[bnuuywol]

vierapril day 3 - REST

[avirael]

Vierapril 2024

Day 03 - Wish/Rest

As many viera Rael doesn’t pray to the Twelve but believes in nature and it’s spirits instead. At special places, like the resting spot of a treant, Rael would pause and not only wish for the Shroud to find peace but also for a sign leading their way.

[impossible-rat-babies]

vierapril day 20--rest

distance sounds of me slamming my head into the wall bc i love them so much

[dalmascan-requiem]

Vierapril 2024

(prompt list from SE_bunboi on Twitter)

(prompt list from liliturgy on Twitter)

It's that time of the year again--time for Vierapril! I've been soooo excited to take this on again. I had so much fun last year, and these sort of events really spark my creativity.

There are two prompt lists again this year, so I'll be picking and choosing which prompts I tackle each day. I'll also be reblogging these on my main FFXIV tumblr, but since all the content will be canon for my boys, the main home for them is here. :)

I already jump around my OCs' timeline constantly, but just a note that during Vierapril I likely won't pop them into the Table of Contents until the month is done. It's just too much to keep track of!

Finally, I'll also be posting the prompts in a Twitter thread and Bluesky thread. Each day will also have the links to all three sites' posts in them, as this is the best way to archive everything. AO3 links will also be listed here when applicable.

Check out the Vierapril 2024 Table of Contents under the jump!

Table of Contents

(green = normal gpose; blue = gpose comic; pink = fanfiction)

Day 1 - Regal - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 2 - Companion - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 3 - Rest - Tumblr, AO3

Day 4 - Clash - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 5 - Color - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 6 - Bloom - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 7 - Pause - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 8 - Alone - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 9 - Damage - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 10 - Free Choice - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

-

Day 11 - Midnight - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky, AO3 (TW: Violence)

Day 12 - Treasure - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 13 - Horizon - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 14 - Embarrass - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 15 - Conceal - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 16 - Defend - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 17 - Meal - Tumblr, AO3

Day 18 - Stretch - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 19 - Showers (moved from another day) - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 20 - Free Choice - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

-

Day 21 - Patron - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 22 - Mercy - Tumblr, AO3 (TW: Death)

Day 23 - Echo (moved from another day) - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 24 - Perform - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 25 - Desire - 🔞 Tumblr, AO3 🔞

Day 26 - Style - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 27 - Past - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 28 - Present - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 29 - Future - Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky

Day 30 - Free Choice - Tumblr, AO3

[twelvesavethequeen]

Vierapril Day 09 - Reflection

"He ruined me! He chewed me up and spit me out and you're what? Out here getting high every night to forget about it? He took my hope, my heart, my name. And we can't let him rest until we take his life."

[scalefeathers]

Vierapril - 18 - stretch

Yeah so in case it wasn't obvious, Bylti (and everyone related to her) is the result of me riffing on if not outright stealing from Revolutionary Girl Utena.

This series has had a grip on my soul for almost 25 years. I first saw it when I was 13 and I have not shut up about it since. Back when I first started FFXIV I was struggling to come up with a character concept because I knew so little about the setting, but then I noticed the viera I was idly making kind of had Anthy vibes, and the rest was history. (Literally, history; I can't believe it's been almost 4 years since then. What is time.)

If you're not familiar with Utena you should absolutely check it the fuck out. It's wonderful and weird and beautiful and gay and will destroy you emotionally but in a good way. The movie is good too but I strongly recommend you watch the TV series first. (Do be aware though that both the movie and the series deal with some intense subjects, including depression, abusive relationship dynamics, sexual assault, suicide, and incest; please take care of yourselves.)

If you are familiar with the series, then I hope you haven't found my attempts to fit these characters into FFXIV's setting to be too tiresome. Maybe you've even enjoyed them; I hope you did. I certainly have.

[mintibunny]

Vierapril '24 - Day 1: Regal

More dramatics with the Ancients.

Endwalker spoilers ahoy.

King Leonides clung to a rock as horrid winds blew, and rain poured down upon his wizened head. His royal robes, once bright purples and golds, were splatted with mud and muck from days of travel. Even his beard, his beautiful beard of hair as bright as fresh-fallen snow, was but matted grey slush.

Ah! To be reduced to a common beggar, to wander and wither away! The barbarity of it all!

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!" The beggar-king howled towards the sky, shaking his fists in righteous anger.

"Rage, blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks. You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires, vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, singe my white head.

And thou, all-shaking thunder, strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world. Crack Natures' moulds, all brotherhood spill at once, that makes ingrateful man!" Leonides frowned, rose to his feet, and raised a hand into the air. With a sharp snap of fingers and thumb, the world suddenly melted around him, leaving only himself, and two masked and robed figures, on a circular marble dais. The wind - the true wind of Elpis - brushed past his chin, sending his "beard" fluttering off towards a patch of perpetually blooming flowers.

"Why did you stop? That was excellent so far, excellent." One of the masked figures, a tall man with dark black hair and striking green eyes, clapped his hands and smiled pleasantly. "I could just *see* you falling into the pits of despair. Couldn't you, Hythlodaeus?"

The other figure, made up to look like King Leonides' long-suffering court fool, grinned from beneath the heavy dabs of powder on his face. "As if our dear Emet-Selch needed any help taking the stage. I'd take my hat off for you, but I fear that would break the spell Dionysos has weaved for us thus far." He pointed towards his foppish silk hat and soiled peasant's clothes, and grinned even more. "Perhaps you take offense at being called 'nuncle', in the next line? I am the King's Fool, after all. It's my purpose to be your advisor, your friend. Even in dark moments as these, betrayed by your daughters and your kingdom."

Having shed the rest of his costume, Emet-Selch moved with effortless grace towards the rim of the dais, crossed his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. "What a poor excuse of a king." he said, after a time. "A true king would never let himself fall to such lows. Wallowing in the dirt, crying at the winds." Turning to Dionysos, he continued, his anger echoed by the stage's acoustics. "I shudder to think if you were inspired by the world below. Is this what you see in it? Betrayal? Loss? Madness?" A step closer. "What we have created - what we have fashioned ever so carefully - is nothing less than perfect. So, with that in mind, I want this rewritten. Understand, this 'play' of yours will reflect what we've worked for. Not some dark fantasy you've cobbled together." Leonides' robes were thrown unceremoniously at Dionysos's feet.

Dionysos could only look on in shock as Emet stormed off into the night, bolts of lightning sent streaking across the night sky, in his wake. Shortly after, fat drops of rain loosed themselves from the fluffy clouds above, threatening to wash the whole production away. I struck a nerve, I take it, he thought.

It took a moment to kneel down and pick up the "king's" robes, to cradle them in the ancient's arms like a mother with her babe. Fine fabric like this shouldn't be left to the mercies of the evening; Phoenix had done too good a job willing the clothes into being. The dirt and muck were but illusions, of course. Is this what I should be doing as Azem, writing about the world as it is? Is that not allowed anymore?

A kindly voice came from behind, and a hand gently placed on Dionysos' shoulder. "You must forgive Emet-Selch. He's still suffering from the effects of the memory loss we experienced. I know it weighs heavily on him-"

"-as it does on all of us." Dionysos groaned and pressed the robes up to his face. "Hermes and his experiments." It felt oddly comforting to rub sopping wet cloth on his face. "Perhaps Hephastus would be more open to my mummery. I'm sure I could find a place for his child, too. What was their name? Damned if I've forgotten."

Of the Muses who flocked to Dionysos, who eternally demanded his attention, there were a few who gave him the comfort and kindness he needed. Calliope (sweet, hopeless Calliope), Ajax (strong, stoic Ajax), and, unofficially, Hythlodaeus. Granted, he wasn't around nearly enough to be called a Muse, but the love was there, regardless. A good love. Agape. The love that could keep a rainy night from not being as bad as it could be.

He was close by, wasn't he. Embracing a beleaguered playwright, putting forehead to forehead. Holding Dionysos just the way he liked it.

"My old friend," Hythlodaeus whispered. " 'Court holy water in a dry house is better than this rain water out o' door. Good brother, in, and ask thy friend's blessing. Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools.'"

"That's not how the line goes," Dionysos whispered back.

"I'd take the hint if I'd your mind."

"I will."

~~~~~~~~

[coolcataetheryte]

Not sure how many i'll be able to do but here's prompt 3 of vierapril: rest

[candycryptids]

Vierapril day 27 - Past/Set

"Oh! Thank you my friend, this will keep me going through the rest of these reports. But please, don't over-extend yourself, you're my guests!" The first experience Tuesday had with Haurchefant was being handed a cup of hot cocoa, which he couldn't personally drink, but he understood the sentiment; you came out of the cold, so come have something warm, to bring your core temperature back up. It was thoughtful, and kind, and the heat was something he could feel. Ser Haurchefant was always nothing but kind and welcoming to him. It left a... lasting impression.

Shaders are Neneko's [Neneko Antique] and [Neneko Jolt]

[snotsloth]

VierApril Day 3: Rest

A sleepy bun.

I used the prompt from this list today: Liliturgy

[sladez]

Au Ra April & Vierapril 2024

VI. Fave Weapon & Bloom

Seishin is at his happiest with dirt under his fingernails.

It is a meditative act, gardening. Tilling the soil with scarred fingers, twisting the roots of a weed around them and pulling it out by ghost-white tendrils. Sowing and reaping, cultivating; creating life with hands that take it.

He sits on his knees in the yard repentantly as he works amid vegetables and sheaves of amber. It’s smaller than the farm and gardens of his youth, but it fits them; it’s theirs. With fists that strike, that kill, he nurtures and protects. His hands are both his weapons and the tools of a healer.

He punches holes in the dirt to plant seeds. His arms bare the tale of revolution. On their surface scars crisscross like river channels. Some tell stories; many are lost to time. There are some he can name: a knuckle where a chisel slipped; a slash from Ran’jit’s scythe on his forearm; a chip on his ivory scales from a woodsaw; a lucky shot from a Garlean soldier whose name he’ll never know but whose life he ended with the same hand. He pats down the soil around the seeds like a grave and grabs a copper watering can to nourish them.

The sun is getting low and the air cool and dewy as he finishes his work planting and weeding. After putting the rest of his tools away he pulls from his belt a kama, the gentle curve of its blade glinting in the evening light, and makes his way to a stand of blooming brightlilies. In genuflection he kneels to them and wraps his fingers around the flower stalks like arteries and pulls them taut, holds the blade against their stems. The petals are vibrant bursts of sunset orange and yellow, and when Seishin cuts their shoots they come soft and willingly.

Inside, the lights are warm and a pleasant aroma hangs in the air. As Seishin removes his sandals in the entryway, a sweet voice greets him from around the corner. “Perfect timing, Seishin! Bertram should be done with dinner soon.” Styrnrael appears, in a sleeveless top and jacket tied around her waist, wiping the sweat from her brow with one hand and holding a broom with the other. “Oh!” she exclaims when she sees the flowers in his hands. A familiar tenderness spreads in Seishin’s chest when she smiles. She rests the broom against the wall and goes to him on the steps, bounding across the wooden floor with the same perfect balance she has on the battlefield. She puts her smaller hands on his as she leans in to smell the lilies. There is a resonance in the way the callouses on her sword hand rub against his scars.

She pulls away from the flowers and Seishin laughs and wipes some pollen that got on her nose, orange upon indigo. He rests his fingers against her horn and the dark scales on the side of her face and pulls her into a kiss. They stay for a moment, foreheads pressed together, smiling against each other’s lips. She holds her hand on his chest, just above the sweeping scar left by Zenos’ blade. Most of Styrnrael's own scars are on the inside, on her heart and her mind. Memories she had lost, and more she doubtless wishes she could. “I think I know the perfect thing to put these flowers in,” she says, and he follows her into the sunroom where she grabs a crystal blue vase from the bottom shelf of his planting bench. Before handing it to him she runs a cloth through the inside of the deep drum to clean out any dust. Her wrist flicks with the expert strokes of a fencer. Many stories have met sudden conclusions by that same movement.

“I’m going to go get changed before dinner,” she says, leaning up to kiss him again before they part. “Don’t forget to wash up!”

“I’ll be there soon,” he smiles, and after she leaves Seishin fills the vase with water and trims the stems at an angle. He peels the ends apart slightly with his fingertips: another little violence in the crafting of something beautiful. He takes his cobalt hair down and washes his hands, and grabs a clean overshirt from a hook next to Styrn’s sunhat.

He heads downstairs with vase in hand and his footsteps are gradually drowned out by the loud sizzle of meat and vegetables in a wok. A familiar sweet and savory smell fills Seishin’s nostrils. He rounds the corner at the bottom and Bertram is in the kitchen with his back turned. Under his apron his white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing his own rosy map of scars of blade and fire. They tell the story of a survivor, against Word, against time, against despair; of pain and rebirth in the flame. He deftly wields a pair of long bamboo chopsticks, at home with them perhaps even more than he is with sword and scythe. One of his tall ears twitches toward the stairs and Bertram turns to Seishin and smiles; Seishin loves the way he ties his hair back when he cooks, revealing more of his face under his shock of red.

The dining room table is of live edge wood that Seishin had chopped and planed and sanded himself. Again and again life replacing death replacing life by his hand. He gently places the vase of flowers on it and joins Bertram in the kitchen, coming up behind the Viera and wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Hot stove, hot stove!” Bertram exclaims anxiously. “Hold on a moment…” He puts the chopsticks to the side and with mitts moves the wok off the woodfire stove onto a trivet. He spins around in Seishin’s arms, planting one hand on the edge of the counter behind him and carding his flamescarred fingers through Seishin’s hair with the other. “Okay, there we go. Honestly, Seishin—” and he pulls him down into a kiss. When Seishin laughs and apologizes Bertram just leans further into his lips, not letting him go. They hold each other for a moment longer before Bertram leans back and looks into his eyes. “If you want to help so bad, you could at least take these bowls to the table.”

Styrnrael emerges from their room in a loose tunic and wraps Bertram in a kiss of her own. Seishin walks past them holding a trio of rice bowls and she briefly reaches with her tail and catches his, the friction of their scales holding them tight. They set the table together: three warriors, three gardeners, three homemakers. And as they sit around the table, filling their home with soft laughter into the night around beautiful blooms of blue and lily-orange, Seishin looks down at the scars on all their hands, these that have created and destroyed and created again, and marvels that three people who have been prized by the world only for their sharp edges can at last find some gentleness together.

[avirael]

Vierapril 2024

Day 21 - Pure / Patron

The sigil of Menphina, the lover, was carved into one of the cairns next to the grave. How cruel, Rael thought. It was the patron deity Miounne had randomly picked for them because Rael had refused to take interest in the matter and chose one for themselves when the elezen had asked about it for her paperworks. Rael hadn’t had a patron deity before or any believe in the Twelve and they had found it useless to start with either of these things now. But what irony had it been that the elezen chose Menphina of all options… Haurchefant on the other hand… if he hadn’t been ishgardian and therefore bound to Halone, Menphina would have been the perfect choice for him. He had been so full of kindness and love and instead of granting him the happy ever after he deserved it had led him here. To rest eternally in the cold pure snow beside the goddess‘s symbol, on a cliff overlooking the city that had been his home, that he had loved and died for.

Well, not quite… Rael thought, as they knelt down to place a white lily next to his tombstone. He had in fact gone to the Vault because he wanted to save a friend and of course also to fight for Ishgard. But died he had to protect A’viloh. The poor Miqo’te hadn’t found the courage to accompany Rael here. Instead he had locked himself up in a room at the inn and barely spoken to anyone at all these last few days. He had deemed himself unworthy to stay at Fortemps manor any day longer. His presence a cruel reminder of their loss. A loss that weighed heavy on him too and tore open old barely healed wounds. His fault. His failure. His weakness. His curse.

All of the confidence he had built up and the thought that he had changed at all since that day had been burned from his mind with a beam of blinding light. A searing blade of light that would have killed him instead if Haurchefant hadn’t protected him. It was to be expected that A‘vi would blame himself for Haurchefant‘s death but he had never been more wrong. It was Rael who secretly thought themselves responsible. They should have seen it coming. No! Actually they had seen it coming! The shield. The crack! They just hadn’t payed attention. Thought they had just imagined it. But it had been a warning. Oh, all of this would have been preventable, if they only had better control of their powers…

But they hadn’t and now a dear friend lay dead, here beneath the pure white snow, never to smile, never to laugh, never to love again.

[impossible-rat-babies]

vierapril day 18--favorite zone

"in the long loneliness of the freezing nights following the calamity--when the dead had all been laid to rest--there was always some small company to be had."