#drk wol

[abyssalmermaiden]

...serve...save...slave...slay...

It matters not what they call you

...hero...monster...demon...

[starlit-seadragon]

Day 3 - Tempest

Here comes the edge

Set during early Heavensward, the Warrior of Light -- presently a Dark Knight -- handles the stress of loss and heroics... somewhat poorly. A tempest of the heart.

Spoiler-ish for the DRK quest line

CW: mental instability, hurt no comfort, death

My FFXIV Write Masterpost here.

She stalked as a shadow through the night.

Though covered head to toe in chainmail, and with a sword as long as she was tall, she moved without sound through cobblestone streets. She had no destination, no path, no reason -- she merely walked and waited for the trouble to find her.

It always did.

Someone looking for a victim. A scapegoat. A lackey. A savior. Day or night, they harried her without cease. When they could see her face, she smiled.

They could not see her face now.

She had only wanted to help people. To make the world a little better. To ease the grief that clung to and through her bones like a mold. She hadn't asked for a spotlight or acclaim. She had not asked to be a hero. She had wanted a quiet life.

But no.

Heroes never rested.

Not even in their sleep.

Not even in their graves.

An Elezen man knelt before her, panting with the effort of holding himself upright.

"Strike me down, and you'll know the Fury's wrath," he spat. "No matter whether I live or die, the Inquisition will find you, heretic. Justice will be done."

She tilted her head to the side. The helmet obscured her face, but she wished for but a moment that it did not.

The better for him to see her smile.

"Aye, justice will be done," she echoed, raising her sword. "I will see to it."

Her sword sliced through the moonlight.

The city reeked of blood.

[grimwicks]

[shera-dnd]

Fuck it I'm gonna write a self indulgent DRK WoL x Yotsuyu drabble, because I can't get that sad bitch out of my head!

*ahem*

Swords clattered to the ground, one light, one dark. Tsukuyomi's form lost focus as the aether that comprised her began to wane, leaving behind only the form of Yotsuyu.

"No," she croaked, trying to cling to the fading form of her primal incarnation, "no!"

She felt the darkness approach her, the imposing presence fueled by untold suffering and hate. It was almost bitterly amusing to see the Warrior of Light, cloaked in the very thing she was sworn to destroy.

"Are you well?" the shape in the dark asked, her damned voice coated in the same worry and care she had used for "Tsuyu"

"Save your worry," Yotsuyu spat, dragging herself away from the other woman, "I'm not that poor pathetic thing you so loved to coddle."

The Warrior of Light seemed undeterred. She closed the gap between her and Yotsuyu and began to examine her up close.

"Your aether is fading fast," she stated, looking unflinchingly into Yotsuyu's eyes, "I'll give you some of mine. It should keep you stable until Alphinaud arrives."

She reached out with one hand, but Yotsuyu was quick to slap it away.

"Didn't you hear me?" Yotsuyu shouted, shoving off her would be savior, "I am not Tsuyu!"

"I don't care!" the Warrior of Light shouted back, grabbing Yotsuyu's hand, "you're hurting! You've been hurting your entire life, and I'm not letting this go a moment longer! So let me help you!"

That shocked her. It wasn't like Yotsuyu was physically capable of stopping her in this state, but that declaration left her too stunned to even try.

When the Warrior laced their fingers together she didn't stop her, simply accepting the gesture as what felt like a tidal wave of aether washed over her.

They sat there in silence for a while, simply allowing the aether to flow between them, slowly stabilizing Yotsuyu's strange new form. Though there was still something bothering her, something that kept her from meeting the Warrior of Light's gaze.

"Not enough," she spoke.

"What?"

"I didn't suffer enough," Yotsuyu stated, "even after everything that happened my pain and spite still couldn't hold a candle to yours."

What else could this be? The darkness they both drew on was so much stronger in the Warrior's heart. How else could she gain such power if not through unspeakable pain?

"Do you really believe that?" she asked, her presence growing unbearably close to Yotsuyu's, "that this is all about hate and spite?"

As Tsuyu she had yearned for this closeness. Gosetsu had been a father to her, but the Warrior... she had been a friend, her first real friend, and maybe... maybe even more than that.

Now it felt overwhelming, like the Warrior's presence would consume her entirely.

And once more she felt the need to step away, pulling her hand away from her savior's.

"What else could fuel you so?" Yotsuyu asked, arms crossing defensively.

But the Warrior of Light was undeterred. If Tsukuyomi's might could not push her away, then Yotsuyu's feeble attempts were doomed to fail.

The Warrior of Light cupped Yotsuyu's cheek and turned her face so they'd be looking each other eye to eye.

"Love, Yotsuyu," she declared without hesitation, "the darkness in our hearts, it feeds on Love."

~~~~

Yeah that's all I got. That was like all a stream of consciousness I had just as I woke up, because this woman has apparently caused irreversible damage to my brain chemistry.

Also I'm not editing this, because I guess that's kinda the point of drabbles, so uh now I guess you guys know why I need @greyvs to look over my things constantly

[okolnir]

One of my favourite questlines from ff14 :D I started this draft almost a year ago, and it took a while to convince myself to take out some time and finish it. 

his big chest scar isn’t from battle, but from this inner turmoil being empowered by the DRK job stone ripping itself out of him. most of his big injuries eventually disappear from his skin somehow, but this one doesn’t, as if hoping not to be forgotten.

_________________

Amongst Us | Carciphona | Instagram | Twitter

[of-the-eventide]

The succession of seats. Of shards. Of ideals... Of love. The Warrior of Light's soul could be considered heavy and clamorous if it did not give them a measure of peace as it has.

auraugust 2024 - succession

[granmasaya]

showing tumblr people my son whom i love very much.......

[ghastlyfantasy]

That DRK opener, huh..

[lucien-aventine]

Tank + Healer

[lufdraws]

a bard and their knight 🎻⚔️

[abyssalmermaiden]

Living Dead

"This dark art allows the practitioner to continue fighting through the most heinous of injuries, and exhibit an immunity to pain usually attributed to the shambling undead. Though undeniably effective, abandoning one’s corporeal form to negative energy in this manner, however briefly, is an act fraught with mortal peril."

[from Encyclopedia Eorzea]

[uriangerswife]

In From the Cold

--

Avalan's experience trying to get back to Camp Broken Glass

[candilee-joestar]

This took much longer than intended. I drew each of Scoria's main jobs! Here is a bit about them in lore order.

White mage- Taught some basic healing by her mother who was a well known healer in her area, White magic came most naturally to Scoria and was what she relied on in the earliest parts of her travels. Not being very physically strong, she used it almost as a crutch as she bumbled her way through the primals plaguing Eorzea, often relying on the strength of others to push her through fights. Encountering Lizzy while lost in the wilds of Gridania, she taught her some basic’s about being a conjurer. While this did help guide her, she still struggled through most encounters. She grew to resent her white magic and sought other ways to protect herself on the battle field, though, this was an uphill battle, as she had no real combat experience. It wasn’t until much later in her time on the first where she discovered the true strength of white magics, bolstered by the mass of light entering her from the flood. It was this point where she fell back in love with her roots and looked at it more as a tool in her toolbox rather than a weakness.

Red Mage- A secret love of Scoria’s was always the fights on the blood sands in Ul’dah, growing up and watching match after match with her parents. Her favorite heel, Cemi the Titan, who she’d been a long time admirer of, she became friends with and share with him her insecurities about her strength. Noticing her affinity for white magic and her total lack of strength, he felt a good stepping stone would be Red Magic and even (in a very domineering and heel-ish way, tossing it on the ground at her after besting her in combat) gifted Scoria her first rapier. Despite his non-nonchalant and demeaning disposition, the sword had clearly been hand crafted specifically for her.

She created a “Heel-Sona” for herself. Smooth and smug, dawning a set of circular, red, sunglasses (which were secretly also prescription grade as she is blind as a bat), she called herself “Drake” for her time in the coliseum. It was through this that Scoria found some ability to make her way through the dragonsong war. Touching the Eye of Nidhogg when attempting to remove it from Estinien’s body corrupted her aether with that of the wyrm’s, filling her with all his years of rage and hate. Scoria, never experiencing such feelings in this way, tried to channel it through her red mage magic, but this was not effective and often resulted in her accidentally injuring herself or her comrades.

Even after learning to channel this magic through dragoon, she still enjoyed the color it gave her aether and uses a bit of it while using her ‘Drake’ persona to give her more of an ominous glow. Dragoon- Corrupted by Nidhoggs aether, Scoria often would be doing simple tasks, sitting at home, reading the paper, and objects around her would explode in a cloud of red. She was plagued with migraines and flashes of the hate and rage of the wyrm. Visions and feelings about dragons or people she’d never met, as well as some she had, namely Estinien. After returning from Kugane and to Ala Mhigo, the problem only grew and Scoria sought out the one person who knew Nidhogg best: Estineien himself. After some long talks and begging (and some harassment from Tataru) he agreed to help her channel this rage. It was through this she grew to understand him more as a person and in turn, herself.

It was through Dragoon that Scoria finally found her true strength. It felt almost natural to her, channeling the energy of dragons and releasing it on her opponents on the battlefield. She felt swift and powerful, almost unstoppable. It was through this that she finally found a love of fighting and challenge, no longer the meek woman she once was. Her tall frame now posed to give her an advantage, having the strength to back it up.

While on the first, after being filled with so much light that she nearly became a sin eater, Nidhoggs rage and anger finally dissipated. There was so much white aether, it completely burned out any trace of him left inside her, transforming her dragoon gear and lance a brilliant white and brass color. Dancer- Scoria was never one for sexuality or showing much in the way of skin (or scales). Her parents had made it very clear from a young age how she should present herself at all times, so these desires were often suppressed, choosing to wear clothing that covered most of her body.

After marrying her husband Kahdan, she felt he did so many things for her to make her happy, she wanted to do something for him in return. Hearing about a trope of dancers in town, she went and met with them to learn more. While she didn’t gain too much in the way of sexual confidence, it did help her at least look like she did. Unable to fully commit to the relieving dresses of the other dancers, she did still find an outfit that showed off more skin than what she was used to.

Her husband, supportive as ever, purchased her an outfit in his favorite colors to wear. It was hardly clothes at all, Scoria struggled with the idea mentally of going out and being seen in something like that. Still, from time to time, as a way to help build that confidence, she would go out with him in it, completely red faced and usually hiding behind him as to not be seen. Dark Knight- Ardbert after melding with Scoria’s soul would often stay up at night talking to her. Because they were essentially a part of each other, she would confide her deepest, darkest, fears to him. Sometimes willingly, sometimes because he would find himself wandering in her dreams, unable to escape them. He realized her deep seeded fears about her own inadequacy. That she felt ill-equip to be the savior of not only his world, but her own. That she was tired of always being everyone’s hero. That she missed the days of painting in her flat with her room mate Alha, when she was no one. She even had some resentment for her friends and the common folk for relying on her so much. He helped show these subconscious thoughts to her. He brought them to the forefront, but did not shame her for it, explaining how he went through something very similar and how the hate that his own people felt for him harmed him even after his death. Ardbert guided her to his own dark knight stone, buried and gone from the eyes of others. He had her learn how to channel these dark thoughts and feelings into fighting. Taking the resentment she felt deep in her heart and turning it into a shield to protect herself and others. While these feelings never truly left, understanding them more did help. She would talk more openly about these problems with those she loved and found that she had to carry much less burden that way, literally and figuratively.

Island Sanctuary- No real story here, outside of Im pretty sure this is where she eventually retires. I just really like this glam.

[yhane]

Living Shadow

[urban-caravan]

despite all my rage i am still just an elezen in eorzea

[of-the-eventide]

It weighs as it should, Ito... Now... Get up. You are not welcome to death just yet sinner.

auraugust 2024 - decay