#and then ishgard is hell but MAYBE just a little bit he's accepting that people care for him

[fooltofancy]

Gotta ask about best boy Haurchefant and Ilya

IF WISHES WERE FISHES HONESTLY

anyway, most insufferable bros who also fuck energy, u know, the kind that makes everybody pick up their food and eat somewhere else lmao.

[owlespresso]

Mechanist’s Machinations/Stephanivien

Warrior of Light/Stephanivien Spice below the cut! If you like what I do, consider supporting me via ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/owlespresso

Twice a year, during each solstice, the high clans of Ishgard held a ball of changing seasons. Being new to the civilization, you had yet to experience one fully. Stephanivien both waxed poetic to you about the glimmering atmosphere and fully admitted to the stuffiness of that came with the formality, but even he could not deny the fairytale-esque nature of such events. The ballroom opened wide. Paintings depicting legends of eld spanned across the domed ceiling, prompting you to crane your neck as you stared up in abject awe.

Perhaps you could have committed more of the stunning view to memory had the toy nestled between your legs not twitched and buzzed. Your thighs squeezed and tightened inside of your grandiose dress, gaze snapping back down to earth as you sought your mischievous partner. 

“Keep your eyes ahead of you,” Stephanivien’s heavy palm pressed to your lower back. Amusement was all too obvious, primely displayed in the curl of his lips and the low set of his eyelids. “Lest you bump into Archombadin de Dzemael a second time.”

“The first was your fault,” you hissed under your breath, gently elbowing him as the two of you made your way into the gathering proper. The rich sound of the orchestra bounced off the rounded walls, filling the room with beautiful music. Nearly every one of your senses was accosted by the pure majesty of the scene… except for touch. The presence of the toy between your legs was painfully obvious to you. Your pussy walls clenched desperately around it, your stance stiff as you accompanied your lover into the incredible ballroom. 

You have to pat yourself on the back for deciding not to wear heels to this occasion. If you had, you would be on the floor in mere moments with the stunted penguin steps you’re taking.

“That much I will concede,” Stephanivien replied, a glimmer of fondness in his gaze. His hand spanned across the small of your back, never once leaving your body lest he lose you in the crowd. You fancied yourself a woman who could take care of herself, but if you were to become separated from him whilst this goddamn thing was in between your legs, you would lose your mind. “My deepest apologies, love. Allow me to make it up to you.”

“Oh, you’ll be making it up to me plenty later,” you scoff at him with a small scowl, a pout turning the corners of your lips softly downwards. If he feels any semblance of sympathy he’ll have no problem with you shoving his face in place of the goddamned toy when you get him alone. 

Simply accompanying him to the ball had been enough of a favor, but going along with his hare-brained sex play was another thing entirely. You feel unnaturally naked and exposed despite the lengthy dress you’ve picked out for tonight. It’s a stunning number that hovers just above the floor, the corset laced firmly yet not uncomfortably, supporting your bust without breathing your back. 

Sharply dressed waiters and waitresses wove through the thinning crowds as the guests spread to different areas of the room, carrying platters of hors d’oeurvres and flutes of golden pink champagne.

You plucked one of the slender glasses as one passed by, giving the waiter a kind smile and a thankful nod. Goddess only knew you couldn’t make it through the night sober. You lifted it to your lips, wincing ever so slightly as the cool taste doused your tongue and slid down your throat, the alcohol melting into a slight, sanguine burn. 

The vibration between your legs spiked at that very moment, causing you to gasp and splutter. Your grip on your glass tightened, the back of your throat itching as you worked the liquid down the correct pipe. 

Several passerby jolted at your sudden fit, causing your cheeks to grow warm. 

“I’m fine,” you assured them with a strained smile.

“Are you sure?” At your side, Stephanivien cooed. He looked to you tenderly, sympathetically. His lips curled into a concerned frown. He played the role of the caring spouse to a picture perfect level, from his dewey sweet tone of voice to the strikingly genuine expression he sported. The large hand on your back brought you close, leaving merely an ilm between you… but it also allowed you to see the mischievous glint in his eyes. The smug bastard was shameless, and the need to retaliate in some way gripped you so thoroughly that your jaw clenched.

“One-hundred percent,” you gritted out. One of your gloved hands perched on his upper arm, giving a squeeze. What could be taken as a reassuring squeeze soon turned into a vice-like grip that had him reeling in place, eyes widening as you held him tighter—a silent threat. His partner or not, you were still the Warrior of Light and you could still kick his ass six ways to Sunday. He paled considerably and nodded.

“...So glad to hear that, my dear. Shall we head closer to the dancefloor? I think I see my father entangled in deep conversation with count Fortemps,” he inquired, motioning in the direction of the aforementioned individuals with his shoulder. The sight of Edmont was a welcome one, but speaking to anyone whilst this damned toy is busy tormenting you sounded like a terrible idea. It was practically asking to be humiliated. 

“And let you make me look a fool in front of my adoptive father and future father-in-law?” you inquire, making sure to sound as incredulous as possible. “I think not, Stephanivien!”

 “I think it would help my father grow accustomed to the idea of you as my wife if he were to see you at one of our formal events.” Stephanivien coaxed, gently nudging you with his shoulder. “Taking part in Ishgardian tradition is a sure way to secure a stronger bond with him. And maybe it would help the both of you get along better. If I remember correctly, you described him as ‘stuck in his ways’?”

You gave an exasperated sigh, leaning into his side. As much as you hated to risk it, you had to admit Stephanivien was correct. There wasn’t anything his father could do to separate the two of you, but having his blessing would make the relationship easier. Ishgardians, despite the way their culture preached modesty, were unabashedly nosy when it came to their family members and said family members’ love lives.

Getting close to his father would make the process of courting seem less taboo. The man had already struggled with accepting you, a foreigner, as a proper bride for his son. If there was to be an official wedding in the coming days, having the current count’s approval was key.

“Alright,” you acquiesce (as though you could ever refuse him in the first place). Before he could take the initiative, you pointedly grasp his hand and lead him in the direction of the two. “Come along, then.” They chatter busily near one of the many buffet tables, both wearing relaxed expressions, a good sign at the very least. House Fortemps and Haillenarte have always been close, so you’ve been counting on Edmont putting in a good word for you.

Edmont greeted you with a wide, welcoming smile—the kind that made you feel like you belonged.

The conversation lasts no more than five minutes before the bastard subtly raises the intensity of the toy. You gasp mid-sentence, barely managing to cover your ass with a half-hearted excuse before you scurry towards the refreshment table, readying a slew of insults to sling Stephanivien’s way as soon as the two of you reach private quarters. 

He follows you seamlessly. A few of the noble folk recognize and greet him, whilst others have certainly noticed your presence and make haste in your direction. It’s not everyday you make yourself available to Ishgard’s upper class (with the exception of the Fortemps), so the party’s other attendants are more than likely to interact with you whilst they can. The very idea of entertaining the uppity rich folk nearly sends a rickety shiver down your spine.

Still, you do your best to make a good impression. The steady buzz between your legs only climbs in severity and to your relief, Stephanivien steps in sooner rather than later. He must have noticed your growing fatigue. When he steps forward to brush away the enthusiastic trio of bouncy noblewomen who have done nothing but cling and fawn over you for the past fifteen minutes, he sends you a knowing and apologetic look.

“My deepest apologies, ladies, but I promised the Warrior a dance and I must deliver it to her. I’m sure you understand,” he says with a teasing smile. The women giggle as they bustle away, doubtlessly eager to gossip about the relationship between yourself and the Haillenarte heir.

The vibrant chandelier light catches on his blond locks. His head is absent of his trademark bandana and goggles, hair done in an elegant braid. 

“Couldn’t have stepped in sooner?” you jibe at him a little bit, reaching up and tugging lightly on the aforementioned length of hair. He winches, but you hold no sympathy for him. He’s earned it, after the hell he’s put you through.

“Why? You seemed to be enjoying yourself… and if you’re going to be living here, then you’ll need to grow accustomed to the people,” he says, a palm pressing to the small of your back. He leads you seamlessly through the crowd, heading at last for the exit. You’ve only been here for a little more than an hour, but you’re already exhausted. You only have so much energy to spend talking to the rich and privileged before your brain starts giving out on itself. 

“Regardless, I’m proud of you for lasting as long as you did,” he admits with a small laugh, “Even I grow weary of all the posturing and negotiating and gossiping. The nobility lacks most of the problems that plague the lower class, so they invent their own. Lady Dzemael has been fitting about her supposedly stolen croquettes as of late.”

“I suppose the impending threat of a dragon attack was second to that on her list of concerns,” you remark wryly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the melodrama.

The ballroom, in all its incredible extravagance, disappears behind you. Stephanivien continues to idly banter with you, distracting you from both conversations held inside the ballroom and the toy incessantly teasing your pussy.

The orchestra becomes vague background noise as you head down the winding corridors, too focused on the lone task of returning to the Haillenarte manor to pay much attention to your surroundings. Your panties are near soaked through, cunt throbbing around the intrusive toy nestled inside.

You tense and rub your thighs together every chance you get. If he notices, he does not say anything.

-

Your little secret makes you feel giddy as you scurry down the hallowed halls of the mansion, pressed against him, as close as you can get. His hand is perched on the small of your back, his voice jovial as he shepherds you to his room with tantamount urgency. None of the staff dare interrupt your rushed journey, all likely knowing what you’re about to do. Normally you might muster up some sense of sheepishness, but you’re too hot and bothered now.

Only when the door of his room shuts behind you are you able to feel at ease. A weight lifts off your shoulders… as do the straps of your dress. 

“Eager, are we?” Stephanivien inquires with no small amount of smugness, as though he isn’t also feverishly disrobing. He has an easier time of it. No zippers to fiddle with, no corsets to unlace. 

“Again, that’s your fault,” you accuse with no venom in your voice, beginning to shimmy out of your formal attire. The dress, as lovely and comfortable as it is, has got to go… though you’ll most likely need his help to untie it.

“As humorous as it is to watch you wiggle around like a mermaid on land, I must offer you my humble assistance. It is the least I can do after all I have put you through, tonight,” he offers. When you glance back at him again, he’s disrobed down to his boxers. His suit and pants have been haphazardly tossed to the side of the room. He’s seated on the edge of the mattress, looking up to you with imploring eyes. His arms are open, elbows resting on his knees.

“It really is the very least you can do,” you remark. Even while sitting, he’s your same height, if not a tad taller. It’s enough to send a flush of heat to your already aching cunt. 

You go quiet as you shimmy over to him. As soon as you’re able to, you rest your hands upon his shoulders and make a small jump to stand in between his legs, using him as a baseboard. The force of you pushing down on him makes him give a small ‘oof’, but he’s otherwise unbothered, too large and well-muscled to be bothered by someone of your size. 

His countless hours at the workshop have served him well. There’s definition to his shoulders and arms, to his abdomen that might lead you to believe he’s been training on the side. Your absentminded gaze reaches it to the v of his hips before he grabs you by your own and abruptly turns you around.

The suddenness makes you squawk.

“Hush. You will have plenty of time to ogle me in just a few moments, I assure you,” Stephanivien says. His nimble fingers dance up and down the back of your dress, expertly untying and unlacing the top garment with practiced dexterity. Mere moments later, it crumples to the polished wooden floor at your feet.

Unabashedly, suddenly, he manhandles you to face him again. You prepare another teasing barb to throw his way, but the words fall from your tongue the moment you see his face. He looks to you with unspoken ardence, a worshipful admiration decidedly different from the way anyone else has seen you with. It quiets and humbles you, to the point where you don’t speak even as he hooks his thumbs underneath the sides of your panties.

“Utterly divine, my love,” he coos. He pulls you forward by your hips, gaze slowly traversing down your body. He starts at your chest, admiring the curve of your bust before reaching your stomach. It’s as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, leaving you feeling more exposed and overanalysed than ever… and that’s before he pauses as he reaches your sodden panties. His head ducks, his lips curled into a torrid smirk. His left hand releases your hip and slides across your thigh, long fingers reaching up to caress a single stripe down your still clothes cunt, gently jostling the toy.

The sudden movement inside your already oversensitive cunt makes you jump and gasp, fingers curling tight around his broad shoulders. The shock is instantly replaced with irritation borne of his insufferable teasing.

“Gods, just fuck me already,” you grumble, thoroughly vexed by his sluggish examination.

“Forgive me,” he beseeches, eyes glimmering with untold mischief. “I was so taken by your beauty that I lost myself for a moment. Will you indulge me for the final time tonight, my love?”

“Depends. You’re already on thin ice,” you reply, tilting your head to the side. The hand that teased your cunt navigates around your body, his palm settling over one of your cheeks. His long fingers span over it entirely, giving you a loving squeeze. Your eyes screw shut as you hold in a moan, your cheeks growing even hotter as you realize what he’s asking of you. 

“As rapturous as you are from the front, I believe I can get a better grasp of the toy’s overall performance from the back? Are you feeling up to that, tonight?” The low buzzing in between your thighs is deriving you to the point of incoherence. In the midst of your frustration, you agree with a wordless nod.

“As long as you hurry up and fuck me already,” you try to put extra bite in your words, but any and all threat in your tone is dulled by your currently nude state. 

“Splendid.” Those long fingers tap against your hip, and he gently urges you to the side. “On the bed, my dear. The sooner you get into position, the sooner I can give you what you want.”

You need no further encouragement to scramble atop the blankets, coming to rest upon your hands and knees, sopping cunt and ass presented for his use. A brief sequence of noises behind you, namely the sound of a drawer opening and shutting, let you know he’s suspiciously prepared for this. 

“Lovely. You’re doing so well for me.” There’s jolly humor in his voice and it nearly makes you roll your eyes. He makes quick work of your panties, sliding them down your thighs until they rest in the crook of your knees. Slicked, chilled fingers lightly work their way to your bottom hole, your voice choking around a gasp as he teases it. The toy still buzzes eagerly between your legs, even the slightest bit of stimulation enough to make you push back into his touch. 

“Fuck,” you curse, face pressed to the sheets as he works a single, nimble digit inside of you, working you open. The series of gentle thrusts in and out make you begin to melt, body desperate for any attention he’ll give it. You relax for him, you loosen, gasping and whining, melting into little more than a puddle beneath him. The slicked lubricant chills against your exposed skin, sending goosebumps sprawling over your legs. 

You pay it no mind as you work a hand underneath you, beginning to tease your clit with practiced strokes. Your growing noises of pleasure pitch higher and higher… and then turn into grievous whines as he pulls his fingers away.

“Hush,” Stephanivien soothes, lips brushing the back of your neck. He adorns your unmarked flesh with kisses and nips, occasionally stopping to suck a deeper mark. “I’ll give you what you so desperately crave, I promise. Just be patient. Intricate processes like these require proper preparation.”

The hot press of his cock makes a sudden breath rattle harshly from your lungs as he nears your twitching hole. The tip presses gently to it, beginning a slow slide inside. His fingers are long and practiced, but his cock is decidedly girthier. You don’t realize you’re shaking until he begins to murmur sweet nothings to you, a warm hand stroking up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. The sudden nerves settle gradually, every muscle relaxing around him as he pushes deeper, deeper until his pelvis presses firm against your ass. 

“You are a wonder,” he says into your hair, his shaking voice betraying his rattled composure. Even the scion of an Ishgardian noble house cannot remain unflinching in the throes of pleasure. The thought somehow soothes you as he pulls back… and thrusts in again. The pace he sets is slow and measured, yet deep and thorough. It’s the kind of mind-melting measure that frustrates and defeats you, the kind that makes your fingers tremble on your clit as you struggle to cling to coherent thought. 

The constant, unrelenting pressure he applies is enough to keep you pinned entirely to the sheets. 

“You’re excellent,” he moans and growls his praise, voice muffled against your shoulder. His words are spaced between frantic, wet kisses. “Truly. Taking me so well after all you’ve been through, tonight. Can you cum for me, darling? I think you can. I know so.”

The raw satisfaction the praise pushes through your worn mind is somehow enough to undo the coil between your legs that’s been wound so tight. The constant teasing has had you dangling on the precipice from the very start, so it should be no surprise when you finally cum, howling your bliss into the sheets as your body jerks and writhes. The toy relentlessly vibrates through it, devastating your plush walls until you at last reach to wrench it out. 

Your entire body shakes as he fucks you throughout, pushing you so far into bliss that you begin to squirm away. His fingers curl tight around your hips, pulling you tight to him. His rhythm falters and his words fail him. You only realize these tell-tale signs of his approaching orgasm moments before it crashes into him. His hips still as he spills inside you. His teeth find purchase on your shoulder as he bites, sucking a brutal mark onto the blank patch of skin.

The blankets pull and nearly tear as you grip them, shaking like a leaf in his grasp. The strength has been all but sapped from your body by the physical and emotional strain of the night. Who knew talking to so many of Ishgard’s most powerful people could exhaust you so much? In the stillness and clarity of your post-orgasm, you can’t help but feel immensely grateful that you’re not in that stuffy ballroom, anymore.

“Forgive me,” Stephanivien says against your shoulder. His soft lips press up against the spot he had just bitten, and his grip on you loosens. There will be bruises where he held you tomorrow, but you can’t find it in yourself to be upset about that. Knowing that proof of tonight will still linger beyond this encounter is satisfying in a strange and animal way. “I was too… ahem, drawn into the moment. I should not have been so brusque with you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Your voice is hoarse as you assure him. “It was good. Really nice.” You grasp for more sophisticated words, but your head throbs the moment you do.  

What you will have to do is see how obvious the hickies he left are going to be. As proud as you are to be involved with him, you can’t waltz into your workplace looking like you’ve just been near choked to death. Heavens could only imagine the way Tataru would tease and badger you for the dirty details. Not to mention Stephanivien’s father… though you’re quite sure he already knows the details of your relationship with his son. 

Being the Warrior of Light has its perks, one of which being that not even the staunchly traditional nobility of Ishgard can take issue with you marrying one of their own. Not after all you’ve done for them.

“Ah. Full glad am I to hear that, my dear.” He raises from his close position, gently shifting you to lay on your back. The toy lays abandoned only a few ilms away, and you wince at the sight of it coated in your juices. He’ll be the one to clean that up, you decide. It’s the least he can do after all of tonight’s shenanigans. His little invention causes you more trouble than you surely deserved. He reaps what he sows, as far as you are concerned.

You allow yourself brief smugness, knowing he’ll be helpless to refuse. For as dominant as he can be, there’s very little he will deny you. Whilst you strive to not take advantage of that good nature, there are times where you think it’s only appropriate to seize what you’ve so painstakingly earned.

Perhaps you should take a shower, you muse to yourself, staring up at the ceiling. The warmth of the afterglow settles over your tired body. The day’s anxieties are done and over with, put behind you. There are no balls to dread attending, no high social interaction for you to worry about. Perhaps you should have something to drink, too. It wouldn’t do for you to go to bed dehydrated—

Something hard and hot presses ever so gently against the outer lips of your cunt, causing your gaze to snap downwards. Stephanivien at least has the good sense to look sheepish after his unabashed ravishing of you, his lips curled in a decidedly boyish smile. His cock, however, is not nearly as shy. 

“What.” You say, doubtlessly looking as incredulous as you feel.

“I cannot help my hopeless attraction to you, my dear. I think you should know that by now,” he wheedles, batting his eyelashes. “You’re up for another round, aren’t you? The night is only so young, as are we, and we should enjoy ourselves while we have the chance—”

Your face warms as his gaze roves up and down your body, worshipful and lustful all at the same time. Whilst he rants about the finer details of your physical form and soul, those large palms and long fingers come to cup your hips, thumbs rolling slow circles into your cooling skin. Like this, both bared to each other, you’re hard pressed to say no. The simplest of touches sends another spark through you, your already overstimulated cunt throbbing. 

He’s impossible to resist. Utterly, irritatingly impossible. 

So, you make a show of throwing your head back and sighing, staring pointedly up at the ceiling.

“If we must,” you say, but the upturned curl to your lips betrays you.

“What would I ever do without you?” he says. Those clever hands have already drawn you closer, the tip of his girthy cock kissing your entrance. You’re already plenty slick from the toy’s… loving ministrations. He slides inside easily, yet slowly, still careful to give you time to properly adjust. The toy’s size pales in comparison to his, but the preparation and lubrication are more than enough. You keen as he presses close, hips canting in a desperate attempt for more of that blessed, sanguine contact. “So receptive, as well.” 

Your back arches, your eyes flutter shut as your walls clench and loosen around him. He presses up against every special little spot, touches everywhere you want him. His very presence is toe-curling, mind-melting in a way you have trouble describing. 

“With an attitude like that, we’ll put an heir in you yet.” he teases, voice lapsing into a playful little lilt. “Would you like that, my dear? Would you like to be bred and round with child?” His jesting tone of voice is at odds with the fire that gleams openly in his gaze. A million thoughts and possibilities seize you at once.

Your answer is lost in a jumbled gasp as he sets a faster, rougher pace. You are sent mindless into a sea of bliss, wave after wave knocking the breath and coherency out of you.

The very idea of his proposal, however, sends a very raw abet confusing wave of heat straight down to your cunt. The logical part of you halts completely at the suggestion, any rational thought shut down by the swift gyration of his hips. Your hands grip the sheets for dear life. Your walls clench around him. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

This will be a long night.

[astroellipse]

rambling time :)

Hmmm I realize now why Urianger is actually leaving the party at this point. It’s to force Thancred to actually do something concerning Minfilia. He’s served primarily as her emotional support up until now, with Thancred... idk he gave her a headpat a couple of times. His optional dialogue there was “I will talk to her. When the times is right.” You dumbass the time has been right for an eternity.

Oh and now we get death baited again. I was genuinely afraid the first time that they really killed Thancred. He seemingly had enough death flags for it, unlike with Y’shtola whose apparent death came from nowhere. God... and the hiding his very soul stuff... I wonder if that’ll make a return later. Certainly is convenient, not to mention dramatic. But man this really was bait, he just like, turns up fine later. Kinda dumb ngl.

Wtf I’m tearing up about Minfilia prime again... god...

Oh... OHHHH I understand what’s going on in this vision now! G’raha is reading Count Edmont’s book, and this roegadyn man is Bigg’s descendant... Huh, that’s funny. Two of the stories from Heavensward got muddled. A hero rides in astride a white dragon to save a little girl... The WoL riding into Ishgard on Midgardsormr, and Vidofnir saving the little girl. Fun detail.

?? Did Emet-Selch just SMILE at the WoL? His eyes crinkled. Do his eyes crinkle anywhere else??? Nobody else even saw that I think it might’ve been genuine, even if it’s just to see that the WoL hasn’t fallen apart yet. Like, he smiles in other places. There’s the mocking smiles, and the one last genuine but sad one near the end, but I can’t recall seeing one like that.

Ah. I think this is it. He’s explaining the Sundering.

I love this line and the delivery...

His logic makes sense. It IS relative, in this case. It of course doesn’t excuse the killing of millions and whatnot... it’s simply that the Ascians can’t accept things as they are now. A world without Zodiark is wrong. I wonder if they’d ever accept things as they are now if they weren’t tempered.

It’s silly that the game first explains the true nature of Ascians nowadays in some optional dialogue... the unsundered Ancients can raise fragments to become Ascians themselves, presumably anyone... though only fragments of the Convocation of Fourteen can rise to their respective office, through use of those... memory stones, or whatever they were. I’ll get back to that eventually.

Oh. You can also ask about Emet-Selch’s true name here, and there’s foreshadowing that you may one day learn... mannnnnnnnnn why do they have to kill him though??? The Hades fight is cool, though heart breaking. They bring back every other character, even Asahi to an extent for godsakes... The trailer, iirc, had a voice over from him so... maybe... maybe if we get more into the WoL being Azem... I dunno. I want to hope.

Ohhghhg I regret eating right before this bit with Vauthry downing... meol... ugghyhhh the noises this is awful I can feel my stomach turning :( That whole business... it’s not surprising the story moves past it quickly. Still funny though that they never outright acknowledge that all that was literally cannibalism.

Ah. AH!!!! There’s the line!!!!

So... he recognizes Azem even now. Huh. And what follows... he thinks the WoL would have liked it, Amaurot or however you spell it. He’s being... nice. Oh. That is... a sly proposition. He’s suggesting that the WoL just let things happen, that if they survive they’ll become whole. Of course Emet-Selch would want that, to have his friend back...

And now we come to the silliest plot point in the expansion. Really? Just make a giant Talos? Just like that? Even with an entire nation’s people working on it organizing everything and putting together the materials and all should take an eternity.

Duuuude I hate Mt. Gulg. Also this stupid audio effect they have on Vauthry, the echo is too much it hurts to try and understand what he’s saying, even with the text.

Ohhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy gooooooooooood G’raha’s deception is so bad but... it still hurts....... and Urianger... this is the most intense he sounds in the entire game... that “Do not interfere!”. G’raha!!!! You idiot!!!!! Gggghg. OH MY GOD THAT’S HIS RING HAND! HE’S REACHING TOWARDS HIM WITH THE HAND THAT BEARS HAURCHEFANT’S RING.... UNINTENTIONAL BUT GOOD!!!!!!! And finally his hood..... god.... I’m gonna cry again I can nbarely type./.... his inspiratyion...... and HIM EMET-SELCH!!!!!!!! GGGGGGGGGHGFHGH NO. THIS SUCKS SO BAD@!!!!

Ohhhhhh this story is evil. That it should be able to make you feel bad for disappointing Emet-Selch....... I mean it’s true. You weren’t strong enough, and others pay the price.

Seeing all of this... I wonder if Endwalker will attempt to top this level of relevance the WoL has. Suddenly... they are the existential threat. I mean again I suppose they could if they let the WoL take on Hydaelyn’s power as Zenos suggests. I do still hope that happens.

Ah... and again his ring hand to touch Ardbert..... cute... Hey wait why isn’t the WoL allowed to have any real heart to hearts with any of the Scions. Let them be friends :(

... ... wh. Why have they said the same thing? Emet-Selch says to the WoL before they depart, mocking how the world would react to the WoL’s affliction, “There is no hope. We are finished. Mankind is finished.” And. G’raha says this to Urianger once he arrives originally, to convey people’s reaction to the final calamity that befell the Source. I... suppose... Emet-Selch was watching? But that doesn’t make sense, they discuss other information here he doesn’t know. It’s just to draw a parallel, then? Oh. I see. G’raha then expounds on it and makes it something hopeful.

Oh also. It would have made infinitely more sense for it to have been one of Cid’s descendants to assist G’raha in traveling back in time. I can only assume that SE knows their fans well enough to know there would have been a crowd upset at what that implies with Cid, with how much they play around with the rivalry between him and Nero. Very funny thing to notice.

I can’t get out of my head what must have been the WoL’s original plan to reach Emet-Selch... take an Amaro over open water, then just dive in and swim around until the find him.

Ohhggh... I love Urianger his apology is so cute... he’ll stay by the WoL’s side for as along as he is able, if they’re willing to forgive or at least set aside their displeasure... even if they’re a danger to those around them...

Ohh and Alisaie!!!! This is why ShB is so good they actually CARE about the WoL it’s so nice... Oh right, and Urianger actually acknowledges their poorly thought out plan and thinks it’s silly. I don’t remember this from the first time, that swimming that far would probably make them die from exhaustion anyhow.

I saved this as a draft when my internet was being stupid hoping closing firefox would help. It did not. Anyways i came back to close this up and also note. I have been playing GNB terribly wrong for a while now. You’re granted a bonus damage ogcd after every move of your cartridge combo, not just the last one. I’m so stupid I thought it was like, an option of which one to use, but no. GNB is confusing, the combos are like... barely combos you can interrupt them to do whatever and return to them later. I’m looking at the optimal opener and i can feel my brain melting how the hell do I remember this??? I mean I don’t have to yet, I’m not at 80, but jfc. Idk if I’m ever gonna be able to raid like, properly lining up skills during battles sounds too difficult for me. I have a pea brain when actually fighting things case in point that one raid where it makes you do simple addition and division. It made me think 6+4 was 12. It’s hard enough for me as is to not let too many ogcds drift, at least not too bad...

Anyways. going to keep playing but I can wrap this up.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

10/15

Anselme de Haillenarte was not dressed as nobility nor as a Knight. A soldier, maybe, but the more likely assumption would be adventurer. He was running errands in the Jeweled Crozier and it seems he already had a decent haul judging by the travelling pack that hung on his side well-stuffed with his purchases. At the moment he was finishing up another purchase with a purveyor of food stuffs, yet at the last moment he pointed to an apple nearby. The rest of the food went into his pack but he turned away from the counter and rubbed the apple idly against his sash as he took a look around the somewhat busy street, full of Ishgardians and outsiders alike. It was a heartening sight. Still rubbing the apple against fabric as he started up the stairs to look at the next few stalls.

Ishgard is not exacly a small city, and "he went shopping" is not much of a lead for tracking down a person Michaux Vidal has never seen in his life. But since he couldn't find the Ishgardian at the Academy, here he is, searching for a needle in a haystack. As he makes his way down a set of stairs, he nearly collides with someone and has to side-step nimbly to avoid him. "My apologies," he murmurs, glancing up at the Wildwood, and then he pauses. His crimson eyes widen slightly behind his spectacles as he sees a face that is not quite familiar, but not entirely strange to him, either. "Anselme de Haillenarte?" he guesses in a low voice.

The Knight instinctively turned as smaller body came hurting towards him, putting his pack behind himself and blocking slightly with his hand. Naturally assuming a pickpocket looking to pull one over on a foreign adventurer. Yet the impact where the grab would be made never came and the dark elezen danced gracefully aside to avoid it. “Quite alright.” Anselme offered with a smile, though the expression froze somewhat and shifted to amused puzzlement as the stranger guessed his name. “And quite right. My apologies, this is a bit rude to ask, but have we met before?”

Michaux stares at him for a moment, blinking slowly, and then he lets out an almost hysterical laugh. He lowers his head, covering his smile with a gloved hand and says quickly, "Sorry, sorry. You surprised me." His expression is serious again by the time he lifts his head. "I'm the one being rude. I'm a heathen from the Shroud, so please excuse the fact that I have no manners. We haven't met, but I'm a friend of Idristan's. I was hoping for a chance to talk to you... about your brother."

Thick brows knit in mild concern as the other elezen made a rather unsettling noise. As though he’d said something terribly funny. Anselme’s eyes were the same bright blue as his brother’s, but rather than chips of ice his were closer to summer skies. They darted quickly over the Duskwight, making a brief assessment. Nice coat in a flashy color that almost perfectly matched his eyes, a well-kept looking weapon at his hip. Certainly not Ishgardian. And, oh hells, he knew one of his brothers. The chances of this being a Bad Situation had just increased exponentially. Clear sky blue clouded over as his gaze darkened and the amusement smile left his face. “I have already told Idristan all I can, truly.”

"I don't doubt that," Michaux says grimly, "but I'm not here on Idristan's behalf. He and I… are not exactly of one mind when it comes to your brother, let's say. I was hoping to speak to you and… understand a few things." He grimaces, noting the darkening look in Anselme's eyes. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Full disclosure: I'm really, really good at causing trouble, but I'm actually here in this snowy hellscape freezing my arse off in good faith. Is there somewhere we can talk in private? I'll try to be brief.”

Anselme seemed torn. It was plain on his face as his dark brows furrowed once again and his lips pursed as he bit lightly at the inside of his own mouth. He reached up with the apple-holding hand to scratch thoughtfully at short cropped hair with two fingers. “I don’t know…” He began hesitatingly. “Well. Maybe we can have a small chat. A little discussion over a mug of mulled wine or hot cider can’t hurt, right?” The clouds broke and the sunny grin returned. “I’ll warn you up front that hurting me or holding me hostage won’t flush him out of hiding, just in case that was your hope.” He noted before he gestured up the stairs. “Still want that talk?”

Michaux combs his fingers through his own spiky hair, feeling a bit nervous at Anselme deliberates. The tall Ishgardian looks too much like the knight he is, and his current expression of displeasure reminds Michaux that he's not the kind of man a knight would deign to befriend. He's the kind of man who ends up on other end of their blades. But the mention of mulled wine makes him relax slightly. And the suggestion that he's here to hurt or kidnap Anselme draws out another brief laugh, albeit a slightly anxious one. "I don't need to flush him out of hiding. I know where he lives. And I try not to attack people in the streets of Ishgard when I can avoid it. Turns out the guards don't really like that. Let's go."

The Knight managed a cheerful grin in return at that. “Of course. And I would have to defend myself. It wouldn’t end up well for either of us. Great! Now that that’s settled.” He started down the stairs instead of up and tilted his head into a small bow. “I’ve forgotten my manners again, excuse me.” He apologized as they walked through the chilly streets. “But you already knew my name. Please just call me Anselme, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” If this man already knew where Lebeaux lived yet still came all the way to snowy Ishgard to talk, it was certainly worth hearing him out. “And you are?”

Michaux seems to approve when Anselme leads his away from the heights of the Pillars, where he knows all too well he does not belong. At least here, among the common folk of Ishgard, he feels slightly less out of place. "Oh," he says suddenly when asked for his name. "I warned you that I'm the one with no manners. Michaux Vidal. I'd give you my card, but I have it on good authority that it's dreadful. Besides, I think I forgot to carry one again." He pats his pockets briefly, then shrugs. "Anyroad. Right. Lebeaux. I suppose you're aware that he and Idristan would happily murder each other?"

Along the way the apple was tucked into the safety of his pack and a few gil was handed over to a vendor in exchange for two steaming mugs of hot spiced cider. He kept the mugs in Michaux’s view the entire time as he handed one over. Proving he had no chance of slipping something into it. Instinctively used to dealing with paranoia, most likely. “Yes.” He agreed with a solemn nod. “Which I absolutely don’t want. Idristan and I have fought side by side a few times now against Voidsent, I suspect there’s a good man under the prickly exterior. He doesn’t deserve to die like that.” He explained as he took a small sip of his own cider, enjoying the warmth of the spices and the alcohol. “Lebeaux is family, I plainly don’t want him to die either.”

Michaux accepts the mug and immediately takes a deep gulp. He doesn't care that it's still hot enough to burn his tongue - if he doesn't warm up somehow quickly, he's going to start shivering violently, and he doesn't exactly wish to start shaking like a leaf in front of someone he's meeting for the first time. If he happened to notice the fact that Anselme was keeping the mugs in full view, he certainly shows no sign of it. "Idristan is a good man. A pig-headed one sometimes, but still a good one. But I'm less worried about him at the moment. He's not facing Lebeaux's threats alone anymore. His girlfriend is one of my closest friends as well, but I'm not afraid to say that she is dangerous and ruthless. I made a promise to Lebeaux. Well, more like a suggestion than a promise, but I meant it as one. I told him that if he's ever in grave danger, he should call me. I'll help if I can. But now I don't know if I can keep that promise. Not if helping him means fighting my best friends. Solenne has already told me that she is not afraid to go through me if she has to." His expression is earnest throughout this explanation. In his eyes there's a mixture of weariness, pain, fear, and anger, but also, honesty. His voice is quiet, steady, and just a touch beseeching. "I heard from Idristan that you still care about Lebeaux. Or... I don't even know if that's his real name, but never mind. I just want to know if it's true."

Anselme had found them a quiet spot where an open fire warmed the small terrace and they were afforded an unobstructed view of the Steps of Faith and the Arc of the Worthy. It also gave him something to look at as he sipped his cider and listened to Michaux. The Duskwight sounded earnest enough and honestly there was nothing there that didn’t smack of Lebeaux being… himself. He stole a small glance aside, seeing the strange look on the other’s face as he mentioned a promise. “I can’t control him or influence him, nor can I apologize for him.” Anselme explained quietly, as though the admission hurt him. “He’s my brother. I care for him and want nothing more than for him to return home.” He curled his fingers around his mug and let his gaze settle on Michaux. “That’s why I can’t help Idristan kill him or have him arrested, but why would you want to help Lebeaux? Especially since he has threatened your friends.” He seemed genuinely baffled by that one.

Michaux drinks a bit more cider and then cradles the mug close to his chest. As usual, his lean body isn't doing a good job of holding in warmth. Gods, he hates this city. Then a flicker of dry amusement flashes across his features at Anselme's words. "No one is expecting you to control him, I imagine. I'm certainly not." Then the amusement dies. "That would be impossible now anyroad," he mutters to himself. He gives his head a shake to clear away the horrific impression of the presence in Lebeaux's mind and turns his attention back to Anselme. "Help him? I don't know if I can truly help him. I certainly don't want to play a part in any of his schemes. But I want him to live. And if there was a way I could help him on a deeper level, I would not hesitate. I…" He lets his voice trail off, uttering a wry laugh. His runs his fingers through his hair again and then looks down into his mug to avoid Anselme's gaze. "I care about him. Much more than I should. I often don't like him, but I always care. If he dies, I'll grieve him."

Anselme’s look of bafflement slowly faded as Michaux explained. Whoever this strange man was, he had encountered Lebeaux and rather than be horrified or disgusted, seemed to actually care whether the Knight’s brother lived or died. Anselme smiled at that, a bittersweet look that plainly said he felt for Michaux. It was difficult to tell if it was sympathy or pity that he was feeling, though. “O-oh. I see. Umm…” He chuckled a bit sheepishly and raised a hand to scratch at his hair. “I suppose now as the elder brother, I’m supposed to warn you that should you hurt him I will come to find you. Me and my axe.” He joked lightly as he let his hand fall away. Plain that his whole heart wasn’t in the joke. “But really I should warn you that he will hurt you. It would be for the best that he is left be until he comes to terms with the end of the War, he really hasn’t been the same since. I am… very aware that he can be charming when he wants something. But I ask of you to take care of yourself, Idristan and I believe you mentioned a Solenne. I will mind my brother, as best I can. I can’t ask you to shoulder that burden.”

Michaux can see the rather pitying look in Anselme's eyes, and he offers him a rueful smile in return. "Yeah, I know. I've got great taste. Everyone says so." His expression then falters at Anselme's joking threat, as he can't help recalling the time he did hurt Lebeaux. Anselme doesn't need to know about that, though, because Michaux doesn't need yet another Ishgardian noble finding out about his magic. Of course, without that background information, he can't really explain to Anselme how his overpowering attraction to Lebeaux turned into actual feelings, but hopefully he won't ask.

At Anselme's next warning, Michaux can feel his exhaustion setting in again. His eyes prickle, and he has to blink hard to keep tears from rising. "Thanks for the advice, but everything about this situation already hurts. That's not my chief concern. There's no way this can end that won't cause me pain. But you're right, I can't shoulder the burden of your brother's safety. Not alone, anyroad. Not when it's likely to mean standing against Idris and Sol. If they decide Lebeaux has to die, Sol will keep her promise. She'll go through me to get to him. There's no peaceful way for me to intervene, and given that Lebeaux is a genuine threat to them, I can't actively take his side." He lowers his head when tears begin to flow despite his best efforts. "I came here because I need to know he has someone else who cares."

Anselme’s fingers tightened slightly on his mug of cider as Michaux explained. Admitting that he had poor taste in men and that whatever was going on between him, Idristan, Lebeaux and Solenne was bound to end in misery. Michaux seemed utterly miserable about the entire thing already, blinking hard to keep his eyes clear. “Oh, hells. I’m sorry.” The Knight offered quickly as he stepped closer and gave the Duskwight a few small pats on the back before he rested his hand there to give the other’s chilly jacket a light rub. Here was someone mad enough to risk themselves for Lebeaux, even if it meant standing against his other friends. Something was very strange here, he was beginning to understand that he understood nothing about the situation.

@secrets-and-aetherlight

[progeny-of-the-fury]

Journey to the Twelve: Azeyma, the Warden

Log date: 1/1/18

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the reader’s enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participant’s knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @truth-of-the-warden @pom-friend @notoriousmonsterhunter @ishgardianknightblogging

Dearest Warden, allow for me to confess unto thee my hardships. That you might console me of my greatest lies, and help bring clarity into my muddled life.

Hikari Inamoto takes Akito's hand to stand, then gathers up the material of her tunic to wring it out.

Adelise De'bayle turns back to Killian, spinning the man and leading him into the camp with her covering his backside.

Hikari Inamoto adjusts the brim of her hat to shield her eyes from the blazing sun. "Y...yee-haw..."

Lendroit Gatineaux: "What?"

Akito Saejima: ...What?

Adelise De'bayle smiles lightly toward the woman, shaking her head. "Let us get going."

Hikari Inamoto: "...It--uh...Dalmar told me to say it earlier." Hikari shrugs at Akito Saejima.

Adelise De'bayle and posse, approach the stone as evening begins to settle in, the young woman staring up toward the sky with a faint smile. "Good thing the stars are out. We will be able to see the Wardens heaven."

Killian Waltz shakes his head sharply, as if clearing it.

Akito Saejima: “The Burning Wall.”

Hikari Inamoto: "...It's kind of scary to look at, isn't it?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Killian. You are my Warden. Come closer," the young woman glances back toward the stone, then to the crystals behind it. "It has surreal sort of feeling. That evokes both a sense of fear and calm."

Hikari Inamoto: "The. Uh. The wall, I mean. Not the stone...of course."

Killian Waltz shakes his head again, making an uncertain sound as he steps forward.

Adelise De'bayle: "Is something wrong?"

Killian Waltz: "It--it's distracting..."

Hikari Inamoto takes off her hat and stares up at the sky.

Adelise De'bayle: "Huh... oh," she quickly glances back toward the crystals. "The aether here?"

Akito Saejima reached up to run a hand against the stone's face. "I have not made pilgrimages to any of the stones besides Rhalgr's own, and that was only at the urging of an elder. The Burning Wall makes for a nice training ground, however. The fauna that lurk within are quite formidable."

Jebe Qestir crossed his right arm over his stomach, letting the tips of his fingers tap along the hilt of the rapier that hung at his hip, watching very closely at what was going on.

Hikari Inamoto: "It's beautiful here, but, uh. But it also feels anxious."

Lendroit Gatineaux: "Fauna? What sort of things live in there?"

Killian Waltz shakes his head again in the same sharp motion, though not in response to Adelise. "Huh?"

Adelise De'bayle wraps and arm to Killians, tugging him along with her. "The crystals here are corruption from Bahamut. Back from the Calamity..."

Akito Saejima: “Creatures corrupted by the touch of the crystal. Massive cloudkin with feathers as hard as steel, for instance.”

Killian Waltz shakes his head again. "This is my stone? With all this? Where things are corrupted by aether?"

Hikari Inamoto holds out her hands to try to catch a wayward firefly.

Lendroit Gatineaux: "Hard as steel? Damn." He looks back to the massive crystal structure. "So, what, you need to bludgeon them - or slip a blade between the gaps in that armor?"

Akito Saejima: “I work with bludgeoning.”

Hikari Inamoto: "It's not--I mean, it's not actually yours, Killian. You aren't--aren't really Azeyma."

Akito Saejima: “Technically, none of the Twelve built the stones anyway. I imagine technically, the stone belongs to whomever owns this land.”

Adelise De'bayle: "Mm," Adelise nods, taking a hold of Killian's hand to pat at it. "In Eastern Thanalan. The Burning Wall. One of the few places where the scars of the Calamity still exist," she nods, "Azeyma. Keeper of the sun and goddess of inquiry. She commands fire and is the daughter of Althyk. Sister to Menphina. Often depicted as a noble woman holding a golden fan, She is represented as the radiant sun. She commands the heaven and hell of fire, along side Nald'Thal. Those welcomed to Her heaven are the fair, honest and philanthropic."

Hikari Inamoto: "But it. Uh..." She swallows. "...Dalamud...Garlemald...did this to more than just this place alone..." She trails off into mumbling, holding the caught firefly between her gloved hands.

Akito Saejima: “Scars of Dalamud's fall exist in many places. I have walked the bottom of a massive crater on the outskirts of Ishgard. The crystal is often too dangerous to properly remove, in many cases.”

Adelise De'bayle: "The stone of Azeyma was not always here. It was placed in different location after its previous was destroyed in the Calamity."

Killian Waltz: "Why...why here?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Perhaps because They represent truth. And this place shows a great deal of what came over Eorzea."

Hikari Inamoto closes her eyes.

Adelise De'bayle: "Lenny, Jebe. Come closer."

Jebe Qestir was hesitant but would, eventually, begin to make his way closer though not joining everyone else.

Killian Waltz sways a little where he stands, then shakes his head again.

Hikari Inamoto: "This is...this is one of the things that I have to work hard to help fix."

Akito Saejima: “...I do not think you will be able to do much to fix the Burning Wall, Hikari. The masses of crystal are exceedingly dangerous to try and remove.”

Hikari Inamoto: "I...I know that. Maybe not--maybe remove it. But I mean to...to help life exist after it."

Hikari Inamoto: "I came from people who were responsible for...this happening. I'm not them. I want to help for things to be better after the fact."

Adelise De'bayle: "New life came from the tragedy that befell here. Different, but still life," she shrug, gazing back up toward the sky. "The smaller, red stars. The constellations. That is the Heaven of Fire."

Akito Saejima: “Who you came from is a non-issue, Hikari.”

Adelise De'bayle frowns toward Hikari, her eyes narrowing. "I understand your feeling of responsibility, Hikari. Because of the blood that runs through you. You do not accept the nature where that blood comes from. You are not a Garlean."

Hikari Inamoto: "I...but I am. I'm as much Garlean as I am Doman. Just...just not Imperial."

Akito Saejima: “Garlean blood does not make you accountable for the sins of your sire.”

Adelise De'bayle gestures out a hand, "you are not the Garleans who did this. Right. An Imperial. You are not responsible for their actions. What actions you take to help make the world a better place, should be done because that is the right thing to do, not because you feel you are guilty of their crimes," she nods toward Akito. "As he says."

Killian Waltz steps forward somewhat unsteadily, past Adelise to place his free hand on the stone.

Jebe Qestir would listen quietly, though his gaze did tend to linger, as of now, a bit more on Hikari.

Hikari Inamoto: "It's not--not just for. Uh. For my sake. Someone I loved -was- Imperial. He played a part in this happening, as...as small as it was. It's...part of it is to redeem him, too."

Adelise De'bayle firms her face. "You will never be able to redeem what he did. You cannot save another from their sins, only they can try and save themselves."

Hikari Inamoto: "I don't think--I don't think he would have wanted all this." She gestures to the massive corrupt crystal ahead of them...He...he can't really. Anymore. But thinking that I, uh....that I can do something good in his honor...It makes me feel a little better, at least."

Akito Saejima: “Then perhaps you could absolve him.”

Hikari Inamoto nods to Akito Saejima.

Adelise De'bayle: "I suppose before the Warden, would be appropriate. They are just and fair in their sentencings."

Hikari Inamoto approaches the stone to put her hand on it.

Akito Saejima: “May he find relief by the grace of the Kami.” Akito presses his own hand to the stone.

Hikari Inamoto blinks at Akito, surprised by his added blessing.

Adelise De'bayle reaches her hand forward to place her hand on the stone. “May Hitokiri find the justice he deserves."

Lendroit Gatineaux silently looks to the group for a moment, then back to the crystals once more. He nods, to no one in particular.

Hikari Inamoto: "Please watch over Seros, wherever he is now."

Jebe Qestir looked back over to the others and then looked to Lendroit before shaking his head and then looking back to the crystalline formations.

Lendroit Gatineaux glances to the approaching Xaela. He takes a breath, and gives a slow repeated nod. He looks back to the crystals again, letting out a quiet sigh.

Killian Waltz stumbles aside as rain and wind abruptly picks up, too distracted to catch his hat as a gust of air snatches it off his head and well beyond the cliff's edge.

Adelise De'bayle steps off to the side, to look at the crystals. "Mm. And to think. Shinryu could have caused such destruction had he not been stopped."

Jebe Qestir turned his attention to Adelise in time to see the hat sail off the side of the cliff. He blinked once...then twice...then he looked back to Killian and then to Adelise and then, finally, to the crystals once more and nodded.

Adelise De'bayle: "You are not from these lands, Jebe. Is this your first time seeing the Burning Wall?"

Jebe Qestir looked back to Adelise, shaking his head. He then pointed to the ground and then paused, before lifting his hand to point to the sky and then held up three.

Adelise De'bayle: "Three times. I see," she murmurs. "Have you been to the north yet? The Shroud?"

Lendroit Gatineaux: "This is your third time here, then?"

Hikari Inamoto: "...Kito, uhm." Hikari pauses to glance up at the pouring rain. "...I never thought I'd...hear you pray for an Imperial."

Jebe Qestir thought for a moment and soon shook his head and seemed ready to try to correct but just thought better against it and shook his head. Suffice to say, he had seen the structures in a few places. At the last part of the question, he would nod and then point to the North before stretching his arm further and even leaning forward before looking back to Adelise and shaking his head and finally making a shivering motion.

Adelise De'bayle: "Ah, you have not been to Coerthas. The cold too much?" She shakes her head, "we will need change that in the moons to come. Do you enjoy living out here, in your tent?"

Akito Saejima looks back to the stone. "...Not all Garleans are the same people that took our homeland. Some of them have done some manner of good. Such as..." He trailed off. "...Well, in either case, my family's ruination came from within, without any involvement from the Empire. Our own kinsmen can be crueler than any Imperial."

Killian Waltz turns until he leans against the stone, sliding down to sit and closing his cloudy blue-grey eyes.

Jebe Qestir would first nod in agreement to the cold being too much but, to second, he would shake his head. He'd point to her and then shrug but then, to himself, he would shake his head and make another 'brr' motion again. Next came the signal of the two sided triangle and then he'd nod his head rather happily and with a smile beneath the mask.

Adelise De'bayle: "Would you prefer staying in a house?"

Jebe Qestir would reach down and gently pat the rain-worn ground and then, once more, point to himself again with a thumbs up to end it all. The question of a house came and those brows furrowed. He'd think a moment before he finally shook his head and held up both hands. The fake hand was held horizontal while the real hand used two fingers to indicate walking and then he motioned out in front of him with open arms.

Hikari Inamoto: "...He really liked Eorzea. Seros did. He liked...he liked the people outside of Garlemald, too. Actually liked them. Not in...not in the same way my father liked Doma. Like it was, uh...a toy or a...big store. Or a play. Or something."

Adelise De'bayle: "You prefer open spaces?"

Jebe Qestir nods, reaching down into his pocket and pulled out the pearl she had given him, showing it off and then placing it back into his pocket and patting it before finally pointing to her.

Adelise De'bayle: "I see," she lowers her gaze, "thank you for coming here with us. In time, perhaps some sun we may come with you to see your home." Upon seeing the pearl, Adelise smiles faintly.

Jebe Qestir thought for a moment before looking to the others. He'd seem to hesitate for a bit as she spoke of seeing his home before he raised both arms and nodded before pointing at himself once more.

Adelise De'bayle: "I will have to take you up on that offer some day, my friend."

Hikari Inamoto looks down to Killian and lays a hand on top of his head.

Killian Waltz doesn't respond, perhaps too distracted to notice Hikari. At least he doesn't seem to mind the rain soaking through his hair and beating down on his face.

Jebe Qestir bowed his head once more before looking to KIllian a moment and then to the others before looking back to Adelise. He pointed to himself and then pointed down the path and then pointed to her once more with a quizzical look on those features.

Adelise De'bayle: "Ready to go?"

Hikari Inamoto: "Sorry that. Uh. There's all this mess right by your stone."

Jebe Qestir tilted his head and merely shrugged before pointing at her and then to himself.

Adelise De'bayle: "Do I want you to leave? No, of course not. Why would we want that?"

Jebe Qestir tilted his head before finally just shrugging his shoulders.  He'd look to the others next and dip his chin towards Killian and then back to Adelise.

Adelise De'bayle glances toward Killian as he sat there, moving closer toward Jebe. "He is sensitive to aether. This area is hard on him... which is a shame. This is his stone, as he is my Warden."

Hikari Inamoto: "..." Hikari blinks. "Killian? Are you alright?"

Killian Waltz: "Mmh?"

Lendroit Gatineaux turns around. "I think I've had enough of this rain. I'll be returning home, unless I am needed for anything?" He glances between the group, as if awaiting a response

Jebe Qestir looked back to Killian, a brow arching as he stared hard at the man and then back to Adelise. He'd bring his left hand up like he was holding a shield, then point to Killian and then to her.

Adelise De'bayle: "Do I protect him?"

Akito Saejima crossed his arms, shaking his hood free of rainwater, though it was for naught with the current weather. "...I have met people like your father. People who are interested in... a culture. But not the culture itself. Only how it looks. The surface of it. They do not care for why the traditions they idolize are the way they are."

Jebe Qestir moved his fingers in a circle and then reversed them.

Hikari Inamoto nods as Killian responds, looking quietly relieved and taking her hand from his head.

Jebe Qestir looked over to Lendroit and dipped his chin in a solemn nod before raising a hand to wave to him if he was still about to leave.

Hikari Inamoto: "He used to, uh. To criticize us. My mother and I. For anything that he decided was too foolish." She smiles sheepishly. "You know, uh. He...he didn't like us being friends."

Lendroit Gatineaux waves in turn to the Xaela man.

Adelise De'bayle turns from Jebe to walk back. "I think I will begin back as well. Thank you all for coming," she reaches down to help Killian up.

Akito Saejima: “Hmph. I never liked him. I used to daydream about…”

Killian Waltz is pulled up more by Adelise's strength than his own, making a soft, distracted sound.

Akito Saejima coughed. "...Nevermind."

Hikari Inamoto: "...I. Uhm." One of her hands nudges at his side. "...I don't really...I don't like him, either."

Adelise De'bayle: "Jebe," Adelise motions toward him. "If ever you wish to come and visit us. We live in the Lavender Beds of the Shroud. The first ward, fifth house."

Jebe Qestir would bend at the waist in a bow before turning and walking off down the path.

Adelise De'bayle: "Let us go, Killian."

Killian Waltz stumbles along with Adelise.

[astroellipse]

hhhhhhhghghhh i hate heavensward man i don’t wanna do the vault :(

I’m already tearing up this is so stupid!!! One of the main reasons I’m replaying is to try and figure out why people think HW is good but! It’s even worse the second time around! WHY would Aymeric do something so reckless? He doesn’t even make a contingency plan! It’s ridiculous! Goddammit man. And the foreshadowing. Fucking Haurchefant. I’ve only grown more attached to him this time around, especially because I’ve made a point to talk to every NPC for extra dialogue. He says, right now before The Vault, “My arm will not falter; my shield will not break. I promise you: we shall prevail!” He’s half right. And half literally wrong... the direct reference to his broken shield... this is evil. This is just so so bad. I’m going to sob like a baby a second time when he dies again. I love this dude.

Yes this is me procrastinating. I’m not sure if there’s another time after this when he’s loaded into the overworld. He and that moment in The Vault are perhaps the best part of this stupid expac. Genuinely feels like SB took a bunch of the core ideas but gave them actual depth and made them Good. Or at least Better. At least it all made sense for the most part. And had a villain I had literally any interest in. I do not care about the Heavens Ward. Ok I care about Zephirin but that’s just because I do continue to want his head on a pike. But the rest of them? And Thordan? Completely uninterested. They really should have expanded on Ishgard’s religion more, earlier, maybe instead of some of the silly bullshit we go through on our journey with Estinien and Ysayle. Like, they set it up later, which lets me see what they were trying to do now, but when I played the first time I didn’t understand that Thordan was trying to use his peoples’ faith to turn himself into a primal until I was crossing blades with him.

I just. This sucks. After seeing how good the story can be this undeniably is bad. They should have leaned into the WoL being a tool, because they absolutely are for this entire expac. The reason I love Haurchefant so much is because he actually gives a damn about the WoL as his friend, and not just a capable fighter. That entire journey before could have been so good if the story had at least attempted to create/expand some sort of emotional connection between the WoL and Estinien/Alphinaud, maybe Ysayle though for how quickly she becomes irrelevant it wouldn’t have mattered much. They had the foundation there! They put that seed of doubt in your mind, and then never do anything with it. I swear, they don’t touch on it much in the later expacs either. I’ve talked about this though, how there isn’t really anywhere for that thread to go without serious story implications if the answer is anything other than “I choose to do this, serving as a tool is my will.”

My personal answer, for both of my WoLs, is “I enjoy this.” Much more fun to play around with in my head, that secret selfishness. Both of them could care less about the fate of the star, as long as they’re still around to fight bigger and badder enemies, currently to destroy Zenos and hopefully Zodiark and Hydaelyn along with him. Granted Doran does share a will with Secret, so it’s really just her that wants this. Made ShB really fun, when she was struggling with actually starting to care about the world and her friends, since they... at least sort of appeared to care for her, as a person and not just a weapon. Will also be fun with Doran, who struggles with distinguishing himself from Secret, even as a shard of her, willing himself to care for those around him, to take more than just a passing interest in the world. Although with some knowledge from Secret, he’s seeing some stuff from a different perspective. The big one, currently, is Aymeric’s ridiculous plot here. Where Secret blamed solely herself for Haurchefant’s death, Doran also sees that it was Aymeric’s recklessness that got them into the situation in the first place. He is also, I think, a bit more prepared to accept his death as what Haurchefant wanted, which would give Secret some measure of peace.

Since I know I’ll look back on these eventually anyways, I’ll explain shortly. Secret Dusk is my primary WoL. Doran Stokes is one of seven souls joined to her from a past Rejoining, in addition to Ardbert’s and of course her own soul originating in the Source. Secret has been doing a hell of a lot of reflecting in between action (me writing about her and reading through old quest logs, and doing dark knight stuff), and... sort of unconsciously started to relive things. The world recreated within herself, from the beginning of her journey though a little different, for one of her shards to experience. And Doran, being the first to be rejoined to her, was the lucky winner.

He is, of course, deeply attached to Secret, and is delighted to be able to interact with this world as she did, even if he’s having some separate experiences. He retains some knowledge from Secret, with just enough missing for things to still be dramatic to him. Both Secret and Doran exemplify things I like to imagine of Azem, Secret being primarily their analytical and accommodating nature, and Doran being a carefree traveler. Both are reckless in equal measure, willingly or no, though Doran leans into this a bit more. He keeps up with 3 classes, all DPS: Bard, Red Mage, and Dragoon. All have the capacity to make him fly off the edge of arenas which I think is funny. All have a penchant for wandering.

Bard is his, I suppose, canon class, or at least his most favored one. Dragoon he picked up simply because he started in Gridania and it was there, and kept up with it in HW because when in Rome and all that. And Red Mage is there because he wanted to try his hand at magic, though... I think I’ve realized that I just don’t like playing casters. At least not in solo play. Way too squishy. Love playing DRG in a dungeon and the tank overpulls and dies and suddenly *I* have the aggro, so I pop arm’s length and bloodbath and AoE my heart out while praying the healer can keep up. Feels even better on the off-chance it works!

That was not a short explanation at all. Oh well. Guess I’ll go shower so I can prepare myself to sob about fictional men.