#arr patches

[crossroadsdimension]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 7

Prompt 7 - Morsel

(FFXIVWrite 2024 Masterpost)

The kitchen in the Rising Stones, unlike the one in Seventh Heaven, rarely saw much use. Between access to the bar and the scholars rarely thinking of making their own meals, they spend more time than not paying the chefs at the bar for a quick meal or two. Or asking F’lhaminn for a quick meal, if she was behind the counter in the Rising Stones.

Which made today a little different and very surprising when the Scions gathered in the main space to find the smells of spiced pork coming from their own kitchens.

“What’s this, now?” Y’shtola sniffed the air, frowning curiously. “Is F’lhaminn experimenting with new recipes?”

“Whatever it is, it smells good!” Yda bounced on her heels.

“Oh, this is hardly my doing.”

The Scions turned at the voice, and caught sight of the white-haired miqo’te woman sitting at one of the tables, drinking tea.

Yda turned her head back and forth between the kitchen and F’lhaminn. “If…not you, then who—”

“Cross asked for time to make a few things,” F’lhaminn explained. A small smile settled on her face. “It seems she missed a taste of home and wished to put her culinary skills to the test.”

“I wasn’t aware that she was capable of the culinary arts,” Thancred remarked. “What brought this on?”

“You can thank my mother!” A red-haired miqo’te head poked out from the kitchens, blue eyes bright. “She wanted me to have some skills to care for myself.”

Cross vanished back into the kitchen, leaving the Scions to exchange looks.

“It does make sense that an adventurer should be self-sufficient,” Papalymo remarked. “It should not be that surprising.” He turned and walked towards one of the tables and sat down. “Whether or not she intends to share is another matter entirely.”

“She does,” F’lhaminn replied. “She is currently making a feast of a meal.”

“A feast?” Yda licked her lips. “That sounds delicious!”

“What did we do to deserve this kind of attention?” Thancred asked. He walked up to the bar counter that F’lhaminn often worked behind — and the door behind it that led into the kitchens. “I have to wonder what drove you to do this.”

“Nothing drove me.” Cross poked her head out of the kitchen again. “Nothing except a desire for something delicious from home, I suppose. It’s been some time since I’ve eaten this in particular.”

“I can understand that,” Yda said, nodding. “I like eating foods that remind me of home, too. But…” She frowned, tilting her head. “You’re not that far from home, are you?”

“No, but…well, I’m not inclined to make frequent trips home right now.” Cross ducked back into the kitchen.

“Oh?” Yda tilted her head, frowning.

Papalymo sighed and shook his head. “Best not continue that conversation, I assume.”

“Why not?” Yda turned to look at the lalafell.

“I would assume her relationship with those she grew up around is not entirely friendly,” Y’shtola remarked. “Or, at the very least, that she did not leave with all of their blessings.”

“If Cross wants to speak on it, she will speak on it,” Thancred said firmly. “Speculation will not get us anywhere otherwise.”

The other Scions looked at Thancred with surprised, confused, and curious expressions.

“You know something.” Y’shtola didn’t word it as a question. “When did you come across this knowledge?”

“He found me writing letters home.” Cross stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with two smoking rows of ribs. She stepped around the counter and towards the table F’lhaminn was sitting at. “My relationship with my mother is shaky at best, for the moment. As events in Eorzea settle, I hope that her fears will settle with them. But that is only if the primals will calm down, which I doubt they will in the near future.”

The remark didn’t receive sympathetic winces so much as sympathetic nods. It seemed the Scions did not have the exact same experience with parental figures that Cross did.

“In that case, let us hope her worries are eased in the coming days,” Y’shtola said lightly. “For I have not heard of any summonings in recent days.”

“Nor I,” Papalymo agreed. He leaned forward and sniffed in the direction of the tray. “Now, what is it that you have prepared?”

“Nothing special,” Cross replied. Her voice carried relief — whether it was the confirmation that the primals would not be present in the near future, or the change in subject, no one asked. “It’s a recipe I found in my mother’s stores, but it wasn’t in her handwriting. I do recall it being a favorite of mine. I think Dad used to make them — the pig ribs are meant to marinate in spices for several hours, then be grilled. I did my best, but it’s not like Revenant’s Toll has an outdoor grill for me to use.”

“Well, they smell quite delightful. How do we…?”

Cross picked up the knife on the tray, cut off a rib, and held one end in each hand. She grinned and took a bite of the meat, peeling a long strip off the bone. “Mm! Oh, that’s good. I think I got it right.”

“Oh.” Papalymo blinked, surprised.

“Oooh! Don’t mind if I do!” Yda reached forward and cut a rib free. “It’s not every day we get proper finger food around here!”

“Proper?!” Papalymo reared back. “I beg your pardon — that is going to cause such a mess!”

“All the more reason to lick your fingers!” Yda replied cheerily. She took a bite, tearing the meat off the bone in the same way Cross had. “Mm! Thish ish good!”

Thancred chuckled and shook his head while Cross put down a clean bone and reached for the knife again. “I wonder how well a meal such as this would do in the Bismarck.”

“I doubt they would let it into their kitchens,” Y’shtola replied wryly. “The Drowning Wench, perhaps.”

“Well, regardless, it certainly smells delicious.”

Cross cut the rest of the ribs free of each other and set the knife aside before picking up a second. “Thank you. I feel as though I’ve found a little more of home.”

F’lhaminn smiled, although something about the motion didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is always important to find a piece to carry with you. I’m certain your father would love to see you making this recipe wherever you traveled.”

Cross finished pulling a bite of meet off the bone and nodded. “Mm.” She chewed and swallowed. “Y-yeah. I bet he would.”

[khepri-sunscale]

7: ARR patches entered! Khepri losing it after the banquet. 😭Watching his lover lose his arm and then having to leave his friends behind all within minutes was a lot.

[eolairelycionffxiv]

bro you cant just steal my crystals and turn into a little guy and say foreboding things

[fourfoldfires]

"hey wol did you see my sick flips and dagger throws back there did you think it was cool" thancred PLEASE

[vasheden]

Wolmeric Week Day 5: Song/Music

He had no idea she could sing. She was captivating, delighting the celebratory crowd with upbeat drinking songs and haunting vieran melodies. She was like a different person in Ala Mhigo, more boisterous and open than she had ever been in Ishgard.

Of course. She can be herself here. No nobles or clergy to pass judgement on her.

He should really let her be. Give up his feelings for her as a passing fancy, while she goes off on more adventures and he settles in to life in parliament. It would be the proper thing for a man in his station to do.

Then she turned to him, smiling warmly and directing all of her attention to him for a long moment, and Aymeric de Borel knew he could not be a "proper" man.

[myreia]

— vi. stay | follow

It is an inevitability, she feels, that they are always a little out of step, a little out of sync. One ahead, the other behind, a shadow to the other’s light. Pulled together not by fate nor by destiny, but by a small series of choices that are greater than the sum of its parts. They will always find each other—to the very end.

[wolveragrace]

Asylum

(fic under the cut)

To say it was a cold day in Camp Dragonhead would have been redundant. It was always cold in Coerthas. But going by the sound of the wind howling outside, it was like to be an unpleasant night even for the knights who were accustomed to the unforgiving climate. Luckily for Haurchefant, he was indoors. Wind aside, it had been a quiet evening with nothing to distract him form the ever present paperwork that came with running an outpost of this size. While the least interesting of his responsibilities, it was arguably one of the most important, and he was not want to leave it undone for long. So there he sat behind his desk, after most save the night guards had retired, listening only to the sound of the wind, the crackling fire, and the scratching of his quill. 

Until he was startled out of his focus by a slam on the great doors of the building, which swung open to reveal his favorite distraction. Ayaka Naeuri, the Warrior of Light, his dearest love. His breath caught as he laid eyes on the small Auri woman. While she was usually clad in armour, he was now gifted with a much different sight. She wore fine white clothes in the fashions of Thanalan, her waist accentuated by a tight red sash. Delicate cream colored scales accentuated the bare skin of her arms and chest; while her golden hair, usually tightly contained, was flying loose in the wind.

He was on his feet before she had even made it through the threshold.

“Ma fleur! I did not expect you at such an hour!” His excitement began to wane as he rounded his desk, observing how her scowl stayed firmly upon her face as she stalked inside with unsteady steps. “Are you alright?”

“No.” She did not deign to elaborate, and began pacing up and down the room. The movement would look angry to most, but Haurchefaunt recognized it to be an anxious one. He tried to get a better look at her now that he was closer. She looked exhausted, not to mention filthy, and was that blood on her--

“Lord Haurchefaunt! Oh, it’s most terrible indeed!”

His attention was torn from Ayaka as he realized for the first time that Alphinaud had arrived with her, looking about half as bedraggled as she did. 

“Alphinaud, my boy, what in Halone’s name happened to the two of you?”

“Treachery! Mutiny! The Scions are all scattered or worse, the Crystal Braves have turned on us, and the Sultana--” When the boy choked on his words, Ayaka finished for him, her voice dripping with anger. 

“Dead. That power grubbing bastard Taledji had her poisoned and had the gall to frame me for it!”

“You’re being framed for--” Haurchefaunt caught Ayaka’s arm to stall her pacing, and the sensation of cold skin caused his previous thoughts to die on his tongue. He had expected his hand to pass through a glamor, to be met with chain mail and a gambeson as she always wore, not light fabric and bare skin. “By the Fury! Did you trek through a Corthan storm on foot in- in-  in your desert finery?” He all but dragged her towards the fireplace as he spoke. It was not his intention to be rough, but she was so cold- and even lighter than he remembered bereft of her equipment.

“I’m fine--”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not that cold--”

“That’s even worse,” His tone was much harsher than either were used to hearing from him, but he was successful in silencing her protests. “Next to the fire, both of you. Wet clothes off,” Alphinaud interrupted with an indignant noise. “Off, while I get you dry blankets.” 

“You'll find that I wore my regular equipment to the event,” Alphinaud moved to join Haurchefaunt as he spoke. “I’m no colder than I usually am when we arrive here. I shall retire, and allow you to focus your worries on our dear warrior, as I know you are wont to do.” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he elaborated. “She refused to stop for rest or food, much less to acquire appropriate clothing. While I know it's a poor substitute, I took to healing our extremities once we were in Coerthas proper. By that point in the journey, I don't think she even noticed.” He stepped back again, returning his voice to its normal volume as he displayed his hands between them. “So you see? No danger of losing any digits to the cold.”

“That was good thinking. And thank you for telling me.”

“Yes, well, If healing is the only skill I'm good at, it would be remiss of me not to use it.”

“That is wholly untrue,” Haurchefaunt paused, noting the poorly concealed distress on the boy’s face. “But I'll allow you your rest, and we'll have the whole of it in the morning, alright?”

“Of course.” As Alphinaud made his way out of the building, Haurchefaunt returned to Ayaka’s side where she was staring almost vacantly into the fire before her. She only turned her gaze away as he pressed the folded blanket into her hands.

“If you prefer your privacy, I would inform the guards as soon as possible. It will take but a moment, and I can fetch you something clean to wear besides.” 

“Oh,” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper as she briefly met his eyes for the first time since he arrived. “Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Haurchefaunt.” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he stepped away, leaving her by the fireplace as he ventured out into the cold.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised to see she hadn’t moved an ilm by the time he came back.

“Ayaka?”

“I can't…”

“My dear?”

“I can't, it's all knots, I--” she opened and closed her hands between them, unable to make a proper fist. Thankfully, due to Alphinaud’s interventions, her hands showed no signs of cracking or the black of frostbite. But they were still an angry red, and shaking. Actually, most of her was shaking. He wondered just how long she’d been on her feet.

“It's alright now,” He stilled her hands with his as he knelt, and for once he was the one looking up to meet her eyes. “If you would allow me?”

She simply nodded in response, worrying at her bottom lip as he turned his attention to the offending garment. It was not a terribly complicated shirt, but it was held in place by fashionable sashes and ties which had become tangled and tight.

“As lovely as you look, I must say I'm surprised to see you without your armor.”

“And arms.” She grumbled in response, drawing attention to the fact that she was indeed unarmed. In fact, it seemed she was without anything except a small compact pouch strapped to her thigh, likely designed to not draw attention away from the rest of her ensemble. He suspected it fit little more than her journal, which she was loath to ever let out of her sight.

“Is there a reason you chose to go without?”

“Instead of using a glamour, you mean? As would have been wise?” 

“I did not say that.”

“I- It was a banquet. A peaceful celebration. Tataru- Tataru insisted I should feel pretty, as well as look it.”

“And did you?”

“I- that- well- that doesn't matter!” 

“It does matter. I would not bother to ask otherwise.”

“No, it doesn’t. I gave into this- this frivolity and I was completely unprepared!” “I was empty handed and she’s now she’s dead and everyone is gone and I-”

“Do you think you could have changed the outcome if you had been armed?”

“I don’t- maybe, I-”

“Did you have such an opportunity? You cannot prepare for every eventuality. I’ll not let you punish yourself for the actions of others.”

“I- You’re right.”

“So?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to her temple as he let the sashes drop and he pushed the rest to the snow and sweat soaked shirt from her shoulders. A warm, dry blanket replaced it ere the cloth had hit the ground, or he pulled away. He heard her give a quiet chuckle beneath him, and looked to see a soft, tired smile on her face.

“You can look, you know. I don't mind.”

“Glad I am to hear it. But I would prefer to admire you hale and whole,” He reached out to cup her face in his hand, thumb brushing at a dried tear. “And much happier.”

At the soft gesture her expression changed once again, this time towards tears, as she crumpled into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He held her close as she quietly wept. It was not long until the exhaustion of the day took hold, and she lay still in his arms. There was naught for the knight to do but to wrap the blanket securely around her, lift her into his arms, and carry her safely to bed.

[fooltofancy]

gonna be honest with you, i didn't get through arr the first time until they announced m!viera for endwalker.

[hersheyfont]

Two-parter random audience question!

On your first playthrough of FFXIV, after That Scene in post-ARR, did you...

1) fully believe you would be arrested if you went into one of the city-states

2) go into one of the city-states before your name was cleared

[ofdarklands]

one thing i like about mitr'a is that objectively he should not be particularly nice to be around, however, since the msq keeps making the wol the nicest guy on earth, my only recourse is assuming he's got unbeatable capybara energy when not currently killing gods

[nivienne-grovant]

I'm glad you could make it - it's good to see you.

When Nivienne has been away for long enough, she always has to catch Buscarron up on her latest adventures, and he always has new stories from the Druthers.

[crossroadsdimension]

brandishes Wol's Moogle Trauma like a bat at the back of his head

Now, how hard do these next couple chapters want me to hit him...?

[khepri-sunscale]

7: Thankfully they made it to Haurchefant and the hot chocolate. Khepri's just as concerned for Alphi and Tataru as he is himself. It was a hard path forward in the ARR patches.

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 10

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 227 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin (wol) | ARR patches Rating: Gen. Just chocobo feelings

Stable

Meryta leads Lucida, her chocobo, into the stables in Mor Dhona. The yellow bird chirps, and shakes her head when Meryta untacks her. She finds some gysahl greens and feeds her, then Meryta cleans and hangs the tack.

She goes back to the stall, and rests her forehead against Lucida’s feathers. The bird gently touches her beak against her horn, making her smile. So much is happening. A Royal banquet, a new alliance with the reclusive nation of Ishgard. It’s very much over her head, but she hopes she doesn’t make a fool of herself and the Scions.

Lucida chirps and bonks her again.

“I got it, I got it.”

She finds an apple in her pouch, and a handful gysahl more. She remembers when they first were introduced in Bentbranch Meadows, what now feels so long ago. Meryta was unaccustomed to chocobo, used to the horses of the Steppe and deeply suspicious of the long legged birds. Lucida won her over, though, her demeanor sweet - as long as treats are on the horizon. Meryta checks her legs and claws. Everything looks fine.

“You be good here, while I’m in Ul’dah. We’re travelling by aetheryte.  No need to arrive dusty for the fancy banquet.”

Hopefully everything will go smoothly, and she won’t have to say much. Lucida will be fed and happy here in the meantime.

[shalpilot]

i have a sword and you don’t, so,

[kannedia]

Tataru Week - Day 6 - Goals / Secrets

Tataru would never call herself a morning person. Not exactly. She could function well enough without coffee or tea. And she could focus well enough to tell salt from sugar. Unlike a certain coworker who once made the mistake of putting the wrong one in their tea.

Which meant that, other than Minfilia and sometimes Thancred, she was usually one of the first to arrive and start her work in the morning.

"Ah. Good morning, Tataru. I just started up the kettle. It should be ready in a couple of minutes." Sana greeted with a surprising amount of energy. "Tataru?"

This, if anyone were to ask, would be the reason she would give for how startled she was.

"Tataru? Are you all right?"

"Thal's balls, Sana!" Tataru gasped as Sana helped her up. For a mercy, Sana at least had the decency to look apologetic. "Are you always awake so early?"

"Yes. It's one of the best times for training." Sana answered after a moment, brow raised. "I actually got to spar with Yugiri today." She smiled as she said this.

Tataru merely tried not to picture it as she climbed into her desk chair and started to get ready for the day. Between the growth of the Scions, the addition of the Domans, and the activity of the Crystal Braves, the amount of work she had to do from day to day tended to vary. So she wanted to get things in place as early as she could.

As she did such, she could hear Sana wander over to the kettle, which started to whistle just a few seconds after she reached it. It smelled lovely.

Tataru watched quietly as Sana filled a teacup and brought it over to her desk. "Sana?"

"Yes, Tataru?" Sana answered, a measure of respect in her tone.

Tataru pondered her question for a moment before speaking. She explained slowly her concerns and interest in Arcanima. She knew, or at least trusted, that Sana wouldn't judge. Her friend had mentioned at some point that she had taken up the blade for similar reasons.

"I think you should go for it," Sana noted just as Tataru finished. "I think you would do very well, Tataru."

Tataru couldn't help but grin at her words. Perhaps this goal really was worth pursuing.