#eorzean fashion

[notallbloodmages]

🛠Crafter's Apron⚒️

Eorzen says "Chocobo Paradise"

Finished up an order of twelve of these! It's something I already had a partially-completed file for, and I'd already created my own Eorzean font! The pattern was done in 2 parts for easier hooping.

Do you think I should add these as a regular item to my store?

[akirakirxaa]

Can't stop the empire if ya ain't cute.

[siderealcity]

So, one of the things I love about Dawntrail is the way the four competitors are introduced and framed.

Spoilers ahead.

We meet Wuk Lamat first. She's the reason we're here. But we'll come back to her.

So then, Zoraal Ja. He doesn't speak a single word throughout his first appearance. Even when approached, the first, and only, thing he does is tell his lackey to talk for him.

Look at what Erenville says about him when he exits the palace to the cheering of the crowd:

Erenville: Zoraal Ja. The First Promise and commander of the Landsguard. Sareel Ja, the palace seer. As he was so careful to remind the crowd, Zoraal Ja is indeed the natural child of Gulool Ja Ja. Alphinaud: And “Resilient Son”? Is that another title, like the First Promise? Erenville: After a fashion. Common knowledge has it that two-headed Mamool Ja cannot sire children… Yet Zoraal Ja was born all the same, with the Head of Resolve's features and the Head of Reason's scales─an extraordinary example of life's unyielding resilience. Alisaie: And a warrior's reticence. He says little, but the way he moves… I know a hardened soldier when I see one. Erenville: He's a natural swordsman─a gift he inherited from his father. Some even say that the son has already surpassed the sire. Should he come to power, the First Promise means to employ that martial prowess in the conquest of foreign lands. For this, he and his supporters have been labeled expansionists. This puts him in direct opposition to Wuk Lamat, who advocates for the preservation of peace. You may recall that she spoke of a claimant who “cannot be allowed to rule.” That is Zoraal Ja─the warmonger.

Zoraal Ja is clearly framed as the favorite by all of Tural to win the contest, but look at how Erenville describes him. Every compliment is instantly returned to his father. He's the Resilient Son, whose impossible birth was a miracle only Gulool Ja Ja could have managed. Look, see how much he resembles both his fathers. His sword skills are great--he inherited them from his father.

He resents his siblings because they, being adopted, are granted nothing by nature. Everything they get from their father is learned. Not innate. Koana's studies and Wuk Lamat's people skills are theirs. He doesn't see Bakool Ja Ja as a threat because they're too similar. All that makes both of them special came from their parents. But Koana, he sees as a threat or a useful tool. Koana has been recognized for what he's done on his own.

He's the perfect example of the pressures of the first-born child, even though we never get the impression that his father puts any pressure on him at all. It's the public who puts the full weight of their expectations on him, purely for a quirk of birth. Everything's expected of him, but if he succeeds it's not because of him, but because he's his father's son. Which is maybe why he refuses to engage with the people at all.

That's… going to come back to haunt us all later.

Then there's Koana. When Bakool Ja Ja insults his older brother, whom he desperately does not want to win this contest, he immediately jumps to Zoraal Ja's defense. The supporters who approach him don't have anything to say about him at all, they just want cool stuff. Bring us trains and airships and magitek doodads! He escapes from them as awkwardly as humanly possible. And note how differently Erenville describes him:

Erenville: Here we have Koana, the Second Promise, who spent time as a pupil at Sharlayan's own Studium. Alisaie: Now that you mention it, I think I did see him in the halls once or twice. There was nothing to suggest he was Turali, much less from a royal family. Erenville: That was by design. He forewent his usual garb and took an Eorzean name to avoid attention. Alphinaud: So it was Koana who introduced the dirigibles. And the railway, too, given what we just heard…? Erenville: In furtherance of his goal: to enrich Tuliyollal with every bright notion he learned of in Sharlayan. He is the hope of those who prize innovation. As aloof as he may seem, Koana and Wuk Lamat actually get along rather well. They bicker and banter as only close siblings do.

He was a student at the Studium, but we don't hear of any other achievements there. No graduating with honors. No inventions of his own. His accomplishments are mostly… being a royal, and therefore in a position to get other people's ideas implemented in Tural. And he seems to feel that. He doesn't want to be noticed, doesn't want to be lauded, won't take the encouragement of his followers, and doesn't promise them anything because he doesn't feel like he can.

He is very much caught in the middle all the time.

Between his love for his brother, who doesn't love him back, and whom he knows can't be allowed to rule, and his sense of duty to his nation. Between his feelings of inadequacy and his fear of failure. Between Tural and Sharlayan. Between his beloved baby sister and the contest that makes them rivals. Between his ideals and reality.

Perfect middle child.

Then we get Bakool Ja Ja. The outsider.

We know from the Dawnservant's introduction of the rite that historically only two-headed mamool ja were allowed to rule. He is set up, then, as the symbol of the old order.

And the moment he steps outside, the crowd goes wild.

He isn't the Dawnservant's son, but he is, as far as most of those onlookers are concerned, the next Gulool Ja Ja. The person who reacts most negatively to his appearance and bravado, tellingly, is a boonewa. A member of one of the clans that actually makes blessed siblings. That's… that's going to be meaningful later. Unlike the two claimants who preceded him, nobody asks him for anything. His supporters don't support him because they think he can help them. They support him because of what he is.

Erenville's description of him is notably brief:

Erenville: The chosen of Mamook, Bakool Ja Ja. Winner of the recent martial tournament, and the only claimant not of the Dawn's Promise. His strength is undeniable, but…you see how he is. A few devoted Mamool Ja are his only supporters. Krile: What would he do with the throne should he win it? Erenville: His policies and so forth? I doubt he's thought much beyond winning the contest itself. But one thing seems certain: if he does become Dawnservant, he will see the Mamool Ja exalted as the ruling class, and all others forced into subservience.

And yet… he's not the one Wuk Lamat was afraid of winning. Which is somewhat prophetic foreshadowing, really. Bakool Ja Ja is the only claimant who has no thoughts of the future. He has to win this contest because he exists. That's it. That's all there is.

He has to win because blessed siblings always win. If they don't… then why should they even exist?

That's… yeah.

And finally, Wuk Lamat emerges from the palace. With her mom.

If it wasn't clear before that she's the baby of the family, the fact that she makes her grand public appearance as a contender for the throne with her nursemaid should be a clue.

We have, at the moment that Erenville asks if we're sure we really want to be part of this, so far seen her wander off distracted in Sharlayan, get panicked by a talking bird, eat her weight in barbequed monster, and get extremely seasick. The one thing we know she wants out of this contest is to stop Zoraal Ja from starting a war the second he takes the throne. She is doing this, not because she wants power or has a vision for Tural, but because she opposes a bad vision.

She is so much the underdog in this contest that most of the crowd left before she appeared, assuming the show was over, and what's remaining is standing within earshot gossipping about how pathetic she is compared to the others.

Wuk Lamat is constantly in someone else's shadow. Her father. Her elder brothers. That random guy who got in here somehow. Sphene, when we get to Alexandria. She's invisible, and she seems to feel like that's just how things work. Even the soldiers who meet us at the docks need to take a minute before they realize who she is.

Erenville doesn't say anything about her, though he has a few words about how her supporters are mostly the elderly who remember the war. (I would imagine that includes a lot of non-elderly shetona, too.) But he doesn't really have to talk her up. The Reigning King of Dry Understatement may have insisted back in Sharlayan that they are not friends, merely long-standing acquaintances, but when she asked him for advice about finding allies for the contest, he recommended a god-slayer. Talk about fixing the fight. Not just recommended, he dropped what he was doing and went back across the ocean to recruit them. He could have pointed her at the Students of Baldesion. He was working with them already. Instead, he came back to Sharlayan and asked the Students to go get WoL. A person he knows is capable of crossing the entire universe to avert the apocalypse and also, for some reason, stopping to catch stray marmots along the way. He really wants her win. He just won't quite say that out loud.

"As you just witnessed, Wuk Lamat has no great army of supporters. Not yet, at least." Oh, Erenville.

[valkariel]

Eorzean Shalltear

Head: Crescent Moon Nightcap - grape purple Body: Spring Dress - regal purple / grape purple Hands: Edenmorn Dress Sleeves of Casting - grape purple Legs: Eikon Cloth Brais of Casting - regal purple Feet (optional): Witch's Thighboots - dark purple / regal purple

For healers: Alt Hands: Edenmorn Dress Sleeves of Healilng Alt Legs: Peacock Skirt | Far Eastern Noble's Petticoat

Earring: The Emperor's New Earrings Neck: Cait Sith Neck Ribbon Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: The Emperor's New Ring Left Ring: The Emperor's New Ring

Main Hand: -- Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: Ribboned Parasol Minion: -- Mount: -- Location: Haukke Manor (Hard) - Red Hall

Shader: Faeberry Bloom

[blackbirdffxiv]

It has been a bad day so... Lore/headcanon dump for Ellie that no one asked for.

Before losing her voidsent, Ellie faced special weaknesses that could be affected by her environment and even something as innocuous as the weather. She often had difficulty using her magic and her powers in the rain, and while submerged in water.

The voidsent that Ellie had hosted was a fragment of one of Hermes' creations; the avian form she took was in reference to his specialization in flying creatures and concepts. After the Final Days, when Sharlayan Scholars were made aware of Meteion's existence and purpose, it was hypothesized that the voidsent born from these fragments could have been one of Hermes' first attempts at creating Meteion and her sisters.

Ellie is actually half-midlander; this is why she is significantly shorter than most highlanders. She is just a bit shorter than your average midlander male (measuring at 5 feet 8 inches, both in-character and in-game)

She's a polyglot; Ellie can speak eorzean common, doman/hingan*, a good bit of old auri (in the same dialect/tongue associated with the oronir), as well as some ESL**. *note: I tried seeing if there was a separate language for doma/hingashi/yanxia/kugane/etc, but had no luck, so if I am incorrect on this, forgive my ignorance >_<;; **Eorzean Sign Language

Ellie frequently travels between Sharlayan and Radz-at-Han as a "scholar", when in reality she willingly subjects herself to their research on void-tainted individuals as well as those who either have hosted or currently host voidsent (i.e. reapers). Her willingness to let them use her for research gives her more freedom to pass between the two cities with ease.

Ellie wears glasses for show; they have no function other than fashion choices, and because "they make her look smarter".

Despite her hedonistic nature, Ellie is actually very soft-hearted, and cares far more than she lets on. She's just bad at feelings.

The father of Ellie's son is still alive. His last recorded sighting was on the Bozjan Frontlines, where he disappeared after the fall of Castrum Lacus Litore. Being a garlean conscript, it was suspected that in the fray, he abandoned his post, leaving the rest in his platoon to die. Few who had survived (that returned to Garlemald) swore seeing a man with his likeness fighting alongside the Ilsabard Contingent when the Final Days had come to Garlemald...

In Dawntrail, Ellie is planning on travelling to Tural in hopes of finding a mentor/teacher; now that her power has been expended, she is finding new ways to fight.

[riftdancing]

The Umbral Udon is a far Eastern dinning hall and Noodle Bar hosted by Siyoh Mari with the intention of introducing foreigners to Eastern cuisine while still appealing to and serving the Doman populace.

I am considering hosting small dining events at the Umbral Udon sporadically and I was curious to see how much interest and what people might prefer out of this sort of venue before attempting to structure any sort of legitimate event.

If you're interested, please take a moment to vote for what appeals to you most.

That being said, I would like to state this venue is open at all hours for anyone to come and roleplay in regardless of an event being on or not. While it may not be consistently staffed, there are plenty of Namazu NPCs who are happy to attend to all of your dining needs when Siyoh is away.

The main room of the Udon is set up in the same fashion as a Street Food stall where you can simply come slurp down some noodles at the main bar!

While I do humbly ask the additional chambers in the FC are respected as private or VIP access roleplay wise, you are welcome to visit out of character and get a feel for what VIP treatment may entail for private dining!

[merlwybs-wife]

LFRP: Mjara Phovent (Marsnek Miret)

Basic Stuff —

Name: Mjara Phovent (Marsnek Miret)

Age: 58

Birthday: November 17th //  17th sun of the 6th astral moon

Race: Viera -> Veena

Gender: Genderqueer (he/they)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship Status: Widowed

Carrd Link

Physical Appearance —

Hair: Purple, layered with fringe; slightly asymmetrical, swooped to one side.

Eyes: Gold

Height: 5′10″

Build: Lissome; Svelte 

Distinguishing Marks: Strikingly feminine figure; wider-set hips, narrow shoulders. 

Personal —

Hobbies: Fashion, Sewing, Embroidery, Dancing

Languages: Common/Eorzean

Residence: Ishgard

Birthplace: ?? 

Religion: Why do you ask? He worships Halone, of course. Like any proper Ishgardian. Halone be praised.

Patron Deity: Rhalgr

Fears: “I am afforded my secrets, dear.”

Tropes: femme fatale, black widow, caged bird

Relationships —

Children: He couldn't even keep a plant alive, let alone a child.

Parents: Status unknown.

Siblings: Older brother- status unknown.

Other Relatives: None he is aware of.

Pets: None. If he could manage it, he'd love a bird-- but settles for visiting a large aviary in a botanical garden.

Traits —

Extroverted / In Between/ Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm/ In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

vivacious. charming. enigmatic. Mjara prides himself on his artistry and intellect, a man of entertainment and hedonism. He wields his wit like a dagger, and isn't afraid to twist salt into any wound he deems proper to leave.

Hooks —

Black Widow: Though there is no substantial evidence to prove the true nature of the late viscount Etienne Phovent's death, it is an unquestionable "fact" within Ishgard that Mjara had a heavy-handed role in the matter.

Jewel of the Crown: Those who might have a finger on the pulse of the underbelly of Ishgard might have heard the Viera's name floated around amongst a particular criminal syndicate, The Crown. again, it seems any amount of proof is lost to the wind.

Burlesque Beauty: Though it would hardly be seen as an infamous act outside of Ishgard, many know Mjara's preferred moniker, Marsnek Miret, of which he dons for his touring, avant-garde burlesque performances outside of Ishgard. he's known to give a private show for interested parties, including some of his peerage-- whatever truly transpires there is something of scandal.

Something Wicked. Those who might be any sensitive to aether would perhaps realize something about Mjara is... not quite right. it's subtle, make no mistake, but undoubtedly curious to those who catch it. (note that this does not apply to void-affiliated characters. i will privately disclose what his aether reads as to such players)

Seeking —

Ishgardian nobles who may have known Mjara prior to his husband's passing.

Ishgardian nobles who would enjoy some criminal ties, such as information brokering. (Or would otherwise rather have a more "pleasant" and "less suspicious" liaison between themselves and a criminal syndicate)

Ishgardian criminals, preferably those who might be interested in playing a role in The Crown.

Those who might be willing to form a connection with him outside of Ishgard, primarily Ul'dah.

NOT SEEKING a romantic relationship, but would be fine with a friends with benefits type thing.

General OOC —

I’m Scully, a 30 year old AFAB agender individual (she/they) who has been writing for… idk 18 years or so.

Please only inquire about RP if you are 21+

Themes I enjoy: occult, horror, drama, romance, criminal, dark, slice of life, & more

I’m in PST, generally available from 9am/10am - 6pm, after which I get too tired to start RP in-game.

Due to my health, I prefer discord RP atm.

My DMs are open! No need to ask.

Reblogs/Boosts appreciated!

[windupiceheart]

ffxivwrite #6 - Ring

wc. 731, B'ig Nunh and you 🫵, pov: you are going on a date with B'ig Nunh

You are going on a date with B’ig Nunh to the Eorzean Moogle Fair this fair day.

He planned it weeks in advance, saying that it was so important that you and him went as it only came around once every couple years. He was super excited about it so you had to say you’d go. Because you love him, of course. 

When you arrive at the fair, there isn’t a B’ig Nunh in sight. Though there are many people wearing hats similar to his moogle hat with a heart pom. You look around, playing a game of spot the Miqo’te in couerl briefs you know he’s going to wear. When you first met him, you thought they were an interesting choice in fashion, but they’ve really grown onto you,   kind of. You finally spot a bright blue spot in the distance, rapidly approaching you. 

“Sorry, I’m late!!!” B’ig Nunh shouts while running towards you. Before he can get to you, he trips and falls and a little kyaa comes out of him. He quickly gets back up. “I’m okay.”

You find this cute for some reason. He’s so funny and interesting and sexy and hot and– you don’t know what came over you, must be the author’s bias. “Hi B’ig,”

“Hi, my sweet snurble,” He says, holding your hands and pulling you closer. You laugh.

“Snurble?” He laughs too. 

“Oh, I made this for you.” he pulls out a bag tied with a very pretty ribbon. “Balls.”

“Huh.” You open the bag and surely enough, those are balls. B’ig Nunh’s homemade chocolate balls that is. You playfully push the side of his head. “You jokester.”

“Let’s go already!” B’ig Nunh pulls you towards the fair. There’s so many moogle themed things here. Anyone who hates moogles must hate this place. Not B’ig Nunh though, how could he hate moogles when he’s been wearing the moogle hat longer than you’ve known him. 

The two of you go on the fair’s attraction rides, whether the ones you ride are like the huge wyrmcoaster or like the moogle-go-round, or both, we will never know. 

“Let’s go on another one!” B’ig Nunh says enthusiastically. You’re actually a bit tired now. 

“I’ll pass, but you can go ahead. I’ll wait here.” 

“What? No, I’d rather stay here with you,” that makes your cheeks flush. The two of you start walking around the fair. 

B’ig Nunh points to one of the stands. “Hey look! Funny hats!” 

He pulls you towards the hats. You both put the novelty hats on each other and laugh.

“Wait,” he grabs one of the headbands and puts it on you. It was a moogle headband with a heart shaped pom. “We’re matching now!”

–

The night sky falls over you. Time flies when you’re having fun. B’ig suggests that you walk along the river with him, a little ways away from the fair. The cool air hits your face. It’s nice. 

B’ig Nunh runs a little ahead of you and crouches, putting his arms behind him. “Hop on.”

“Hop on?” 

“Yeah! I’ll carry you.” You mount B’ig Nunh. He carries you with ease and runs as fast he can along the riverside. This is very impressive or just okay depending on how big you are. Later he puts you down and immediately starts carrying you bridal style. You get a great view of his extremely handsome, hot, sexy face, maybe even the sexiest in Eorzea. You get to a nice area and he finally actually puts you down. He hugs you.

“You know, we’ve been together for,      an amount of time.” He loosens his grip so he can look at you. You gaze into his beautiful hot sexy cerulean and greenish cerulean eyes that glisten in the moonlight. “I love you, Y/N.” 

He takes a step back and bends down on one knee, his bare knee because he’s not wearing proper trousers... Your heartbeat quickens in anticipation. He looks up at you and smiles and pulls an extremely shiny, metallic blue box. He opens it to reveal a silver ring with a heart shaped gem. 

“Will you–”

 “hi b’ig” Vertical said walking downstairs, interrupting B’ig’s reading mid sentence and taking him out of his imaginative delusions. He put down his book and looked up at Vertical from his bed. 

“Hey! B’ig Nunh was just about to propose to me!” he huffed.

“?” 

[headcanons-n-shit]

It is a wager, he will admit, but Zenos has not made it this far in life by taking the safest of bests.

He steps out of the last of his armor, his greaves falling over in a clatter so terribly loud in the quiet. In the distance Kugane is a bright light on the horizon. Yotsuyu thinks him gone, to return to Ala Mhigo and the warfront, and in the morning he will be. But right now he has placed his cards and made his wager, and for the next hours there is naught to do but savor the payoff. 

Doman nights are warm, this close to the coast, but without the weight and heat of his armor Zenos feels gooseflesh prickle beneath the thin lingering layer of sweat. He tugs uncomfortably at his shirt and wonders, should he build a fire? The sun has only just set. 

And then all thought is gone, as Tehpe steps out of the shadows at the edge of the clearing. They have chosen to garb themselves in the local fashion, it seems, a dark grey kimono tunic and loose pants. Like a shadow themselves, or one of the spirits that the Doman so revere. 

Perhaps even a kami, considering their strength. Zenos has an image in his mind, and it lodges deep in his breast, Tehpe in Garlean colors, black and red and gold, and a nation of worshipers at their feet, and his lips curl into a private, indulgent smile.

“You came.”

Tehpe hums as they slowly begin to pace around the border of the clearing. “I did.”

“Why?”

The fabric of their robes whisper as they move. Shrug. They tuck their hands into the wide sleeves of their robes. A nervous habit, Zenos thinks, to hide their hands, and Tehpe says, “If you wanted me dead, you would have killed me already.”

And that there is the crux of the issue, isn’t it. Twice now, Zenos has had the Warrior of Light at his mercy. Twice now, Zenos could have struck down the greatest enemy to the Garlean Empire. 

And twice now, Zenos has stayed his hand.

Tehpe stills as Zenos approaches them, and the differences in their size has always been dramatic, but before shedding his armor Zenos has never paid it much mind. To the breadth of his shoulders, or the way he looms over Tehpe, his shadow in the moonlight consuming the Viera quite completely.

“I believe–” Zenos says, slowly, carefully, catching Tehpe’s wrist and drawing it up to his mouth. The sleeve falls back with the angle, that he might press his lips to the thin strip of skin between that hem and the silk of their gloves. A hunger lurks and twists beneath his skin, to rip and consume, but, softly. “–that I also told you to run.”

With a huff and a toss of his head, Tehpe looks every bit as impetuous as Zenos has come to expect from these Eorzeans. “And yet, it is you who extends the invitation to me. In what direction did you expect me to run?”

That, Zenos has no proper answer to. His teeth ache to taste as he walks his fingers delicately up Tehpe’s arm, savoring the velveteen skin, the shifting muscle as Tehpe struggles to stay perfectly still. Like prey beneath a predator’s gaze. Like a predator with prey in its sights. Zenos hums low and contemplative against the fragile bones of Tehpe’s wrist. 

“Would you run for me?” Zenos asks, and he tries for flat, for boredly curious, but he could not sound more affected. Tehpe’s eyes widen infinitesimally, nostrils flared, chest heaving, and Zenos tightens his grip, just in warning, just short of bruising.

“Would you run so that I might give chase?” Zenos continues, and every breath stokes the flames in his chest, higher and hotter, ‘til he wonders if he might scorch the very air around him. “Run for me. Be my light in this foul world. My one jewel in this mound of filth.”

Wine-red eyes glance away– at the ground, at the undergrowth, into the trees. Anywhere but Zenos, and he growls, further closing the small distance between them.

“Be my beast,” Zenos demands.

Be mine, he almost says, and bites his tongue just in time.

Tehpe’s breathing is measured, long and slow and even, as the seconds stretch endlessly long with anticipation. Impatience rears its ugly head, but Zenos squashes it down mercilessly. The stakes here are higher than that of any battle, the reward more valuable than any treasure or city or stretch of land, and he does not pick battles he knows he will lose. Sometimes, the best strategy is only to wait, with a patience he has had no choice but to learn.

Wait, for Tehpe’s shoulders to unwind, slowly slowly slowly. “You don’t understand what you ask of me,” Tehpe says, but they lean into every point of contact nonetheless.

“I don’t,” Zenos admits. “I understand only that there is you. Only you are worthy. Only you make each day worth enduring, but for the chance to chase you once more. I want only you.”

Only you, Zenos mouths against silvery veins. Only me and only you.

A hand comes up to grab Zenos beneath the chin, so small, with nails so sharp as they dig into the bones of his jaw. Tehpe glares, so beautiful, so baleful, so fiery, up at him, and Zenos feels that flame within him rise into an inferno.

Tehpe smiles, small and secret and sly as they lean up, pulling Zenos down to meet him, and Zenos can hear the soft pop pop pop as his skin gives beneath Tehpe’s claws, blood welling hot and thick.

“If you can catch me,” Tehpe offers, promises, warns.

And Zenos grins.

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2024 | #14: Telling

Word Count: 628

3rd Astral Moon, 15th Sun, 1577 6UE

The city-states of the Eorzean Alliance have all had their particular unique nuisances. But so far, Ishgard is managing to outstrip them all.

We’re still tromping back and forth across the central Coerthas highlands - still trying to find any sort of clue to the location of Cid’s missing airship. The problem is that we are being hamstrung by the most frustrating obstacle possible: noblemen and their politicking. They had been obstinate and off-putting enough when we sought their aid even before the reveal of draconic rosaries stashed within packages trafficked by one of the High Houses; the manner in which the one guard captain had brusquely informed us “your request will, of course, need to be postponed, for it is the duty of every Ishgardian to root out and destroy heretics—all else must wait until this matter is resolved” was… well, if Longhart hadn’t outright stamped on my foot, I likely would have blasted the smug bastard right then and there with a Stone spell (and likely landed us in even deeper trouble, putting us even further from our goal, but come on).

Getting conscripted into defending this frail lordling from these accusations of heresy was also immensely frustrating… if just in the sense of, even when we’re so distracted from our main purpose in these lands, there’s no way I can turn my eyes away when there’s such a blatantly obvious miscarriage of justice happening before them. There was something obscene about the sheer speed with which the inquisitor moved to charge and convict Lord Francel, while simultaneously ensuring that nobody would bother lifting a finger to answer our one simple question. They’re so wrapped up in finding heretics in every lingering shadow that they can’t be arsed to assist a small adventurers’ party with one simple request…

I have many thoughts about what Ishgard regards as heresy and how it levies accusations of such, and none of them are kind—and it is telling how corrupt these structures are if these brazen, careless accusations are enough to nearly murder an innocent man. (And on that note, what the hells kind of justice system is Witchdrop!? Awfully convenient that either outcome leads to the death of those who stand trial atop it. Do they not see how easily a system like that can be leveraged to execute politically inconvenient foes—well. That’s very much the point, isn’t it…)

If naught else, at least Lord Haurchefant, the garrison commander of Camp Dragonhead, was gracious enough for our assistance in saving Lord Francel to grant us hospitality in spare quarters ere we continue our quest. It would turn out that I’d learn some further secrets in those bunks later that night… but if I’m being honest, I don’t fully feel comfortable even writing those revelations in this private journal, as they concern someone else’s past traumas that were evoked by witnessing the farce upon Witchdrop.

However, I still find it necessary to note that, in response, I ended up telling Lily about myself and one of my own past traumas. She’s…the first person I’ve told since joining the Scions that I was born male - a situation I would bet gil on the Holy See finding heretical in some inane fashion. And she reacted in the exact opposite manner from the last person I told; she gave me a great big hug and thanked me for trusting her enough to tell her that.

I didn’t necessarily doubt that Lily would accept me for who I was, but I must admit it’s deeply relieving to actually have that out in the open. Maybe there’s something to the idea of trusting the people around me enough to tell them something like that.

[arakhnesreiyr]

Sheared and Shorn

The sun rose and spilled through the windows of my room, waking me after what only felt like minutes of sleep. The restless night made way to a morning of fatigue, with body aches in places not even related to my wound.

Rubbing my eyes and inhaling my way through the blinding sunlight, I recalled my conversation with Weena just hours before, and I felt eager to speak with Lukasz about Ando and my plans for the rogue samurai's downfall. I peeled away the dressings that covered my wound, wincing at the tenderness of it, but much to my surprise it was well-healed - just sore.

"I could get dressed, honestly," I murmured to myself. "If I had clothes."

I searched my belongings; all I had brought to Hingashi was a knapsack filled with a few coins and other important items - and no clothes. I had not had the foresight to think about a change of clothes. I groaned, wrinkling my nose as I stared in the mirror. Wrapped in the old bandages, with circles under my eyes, my red hair in a stringy rat's nest - I looked positively medieval.

I rushed to the washing station in my room and washed - with the coldest water imaginable - as much of my body as I could reach with the bandages on. I tugged a comb through my hair and cried out from the pain. Five days of being bedbound - there was no hope for my hair. The knots were the length of my forearm - and as much as I tried to comb through them, I was left only in tears and desolation.

And that's when I spotted the sewing scissors on top of the sewing kit in the closet. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I grabbed them and chopped off my hair, letting the knots and tangles fall to the ground. And when I looked in the mirror again, I burst into tears.

It was then that Weena walked in gently, and seeing me surrounded by my shorn hair and scissors in my hand, she rushed to me, gasping and taking the scissors away as I was crying.

"Why?!" she gasped.

"It was too much," I wept. "I couldn't comb it out."

She knelt down and gingerly began to pick up the knotty locks. "Oh Arakhne," she said with a small smile. "You really do beat all."

"Does it look okay?" I whimpered, looking back in the mirror and brushing the baby hairs out of my eyes.

"You can make anything look good," Weena snorted, still smiling a little. "I bet you could make powdered wigs fashionable again," she then added with a mischievous laugh.

"Oh stop," I laughed between my tears. "I'm serious."

"I am too," Weena responded firmly, though still smiling, as she stuffed the fallen hair into a garbage bag. "I'll be bringing you a change of clothes and some food. I see you had the energy to wash up today."

"I feel really good," I said, rubbing my eyes, "outside of my hair."

"This is what happens," she said gently as she brushed my tears away, "when you only get an hour and a half of sleep, Arakhne."

"Please, I want to leave," I whispered, my eyes searching hers for any sign that I would be discharged that day.

"If you eat a full meal and pass a bowel movement," she said firmly, "you may leave. Your intestinal tract took some damage and I want to make sure there are no lesions or infections."

I swallowed and nodded nervously, and then asked quietly, "Is Lukasz coming to see me?"

"The big oaf is already here," Weena responded as she put the sewing kit back in its proper place. "He's been dying to see you for hours, but I told him you needed rest."

"I can see him."

"Well, clearly I can't say no, after you went through a delirious state and cut off all your hair," Weena snorted, felt my forehead, and then pulled away, seemingly pleased. "You healed very well besides the fact, though, I do say so myself."

"Send him in, please."

"After you sit in the bathroom and eat what I bring you," she responded firmly. "No ifs ands or buts." And you're going to wear some proper clothes, too. Eorzean clothes, I think, you'll be more comfortable in." She then sent me a small wink and then headed back out of the room, leaving me standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in a mix of awe and horror.

After time passed, Weena returned with a large tray of food and a bundle of clothing. She helped me into the clothes: simple clothes in what seemed to be Ul'dahn fashion.

On the tray sat a load of delicious Hingashi food, and I devoured it so quickly that by the time Weena had finished making my bed, it was gone. "Well then," she said, pleased. "Go sit on the toilet for a bit. I'll check on you shortly."

It felt like my body was finally used to being alive. The past few days had felt like a blur, like life wasn't really something that could be attainable again - even simple bodily functions felt like a luxury. But today, all of that changed, and I felt like a normal human being once again. The wound was still tender, but I didn't need bandages wrapped around my entire torso anymore - all that covered my wound now was a simple patch.

Weena smiled when she reentered and acknowledged all of this. "Everything looks to be in order. Lukasz is waiting for you down in the lobby; you can sign your discharge papers down there."

Walking down stairs felt strange - my hips were still tender, so it felt like my bones were rolling on raw chicken cutlets. My feet were tender too - it felt like they had been asleep for months. But the second I saw Lukasz's face look up at me from the lobby, I forgot about all of it.

"Arakhne," he said with a small smile. "You look ten times better than yesterday, even if your hair is a bit shorter."

"A bit," I replied sarcastically with a returned smile. "I'm honored that you've come back to see me."

Lukasz nodded as Weena handed me a clipboard of the discharge paperwork to fill out. As I did so, the lancer spoke. "Have you thought about my offer? Join me as my student, and we'll search for Ando together."

"Weena told me everything about you," I said softly, looking up at him briefly.

One of his eyebrows shot up. "Did she now? What did she say?"

"That Ando killed your brother."

He did not hesitate. "He did."

"And that you think all samurai are honor killers."

"They are." Again, no hesitation.

I finished the paperwork, handing the clipboard back to Weena, who took it with a smile and a pat on my arm. "Thank you," I whispered to her before giving her a hug. "You saved my life."

Weena chuckled. "That I did. Use it for good, now, and bring justice to Hingashi. Take care of Lukasz too - we all know he needs it."

Lukasz snorted at that, and then led me outside, where we begun a slow walk to the pier.

"Why do you think that?" I asked him softly after a minute.

He knew I was talking about his opinion on samurai. "Because it's true," he said just as softly. "A dangerous mentality here in Hingashi, isn't it? But you've seen it yourself. Mixing faith into war is dangerous - you begin to see righteousness in murder...when in fact there is no such thing."

"But you want to kill Ando."

"That's different."

"How?"

He looked at me then, stopping in his stroll, and I stopped with him to hold his gaze. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and he said, "Killing Ando would bring justice to the dead."

I knew he was right - but I wanted to play devil's advocate...and also show Lukasz the error in his thinking. "Isn't bringing justice to the dead the same thing as righteous murder?"

A twinkle lit up his eyes for a moment then, and he resumed his walk, I myself falling into place next to him once again. "I knew you were special when I saw you fighting him," he said quietly.

"He killed Yahiro."

"I know."

"And he killed Ehira."

"I know."

"He needs to die."

"I know." When he said that, he looked at me again. "Do you plan to drive the killing blow?"

"If I am the one that can do it, I will," I responded firmly, looking out at the sea that stretched out before us. "Where are we going?"

"Assuming you want to learn lancing - which you still haven't agreed to, by the way - I'm taking you to a place where you'll meet an acquaintance of mine. He says he knows you."

"Knows me?"

He nodded, then reached into his breast pocket and handed me an envelope. "Wrote you this letter, he did, and sent a messenger to Hingashi to get it to you."

I raised an eyebrow. "How did you intercept this?" I asked, taking the letter.

"The most dumb Xaela in the history of ever came to the hospital after I left you last night," he snorted with a small smile. "Said there was a flower attached, but it was crushed in transit."

"A flower?!" I opened the letter, and to my amazement, familiar handwriting was scrawled upon the parchment:

Arakhne Sreiyr,

I do hope this letter finds you well. I wish you could imagine my concern when word of your return to the Far East. Though I am sure you can handle yourself, I pray you find peace with what you find in Kugane, and that our paths cross once more.

I have been given the reins of a small island community off the coast of La Noscea. Slate Burrow Cove, though the locals have begun rebranding it simply to Fellinor. It is admittedly not much to look at, but commerce flows easily here, and it is a fine place to lay low should you ever have need of it. You and yours are always welcome. I do hope my gifts are well received. I anxiously await our next convergence. Until then, stay safe.

Sincerely, Kyantis Dekar

Lukasz smiled a little. "So I'm heading there now. I'm aware of Kyantis, and apparently you are too."

"He was on the Akagi when I sailed to Thanalan," I whispered.

"Then by all means, we'll go to Fellinor. I've heard of it myself - I'm eager to check it out."

I swallowed and looked at him. "Lukasz," I whispered, blowing my new bangs out of my eyes and staring up at him. "I want to learn lancing."

Lukasz stopped, inhaling softly as I stopped and faced him. "I'm glad," he said simply, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Arakhne."

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 6 - Halcyon

Arashi was sulking again. Most likely she had lost her patience with Hana again, or Hana had said something rash and caused offence. Like mother, like daughter. Kaien regarded his darling daughter with a weary smile. Fourteen summers old, still growing into the woman she would become, all awkward, gangly limbs and new and unpleasant sensations. Not a good combination when combined with her fiery temper.

She caught him looking and fixed him with what she likely thought was a terrible glare. It didn’t exactly scare Kaien into submission, but he did have the advantage of having raised her. He raised a pair of mugs, filled to the brim with cocoa. A rare import from Ishgard, and worth an arm and a leg out in Dravania. A bribe, and they both knew it. But Arashi’s tail nonetheless slapped the bench, heedless of its warning creeks.

A few moments later the pair were nestled together in silence, sipping piping hot cocoa and enjoying what quiet they could. Kaien waited, knowing that eventually Arashi would crack. She always did, in the end. Just like her mother.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent!” There it was. Kaien’s tail curled around his daughter’s waist, tugging her closer as she spilled her heart. “Why is it so necessary that I learn the katana? Nobody here uses them anyway! It’s all spears and axes and bows!” Kaien’s spare arm wrapped around his daughter’s shoulders, squeezing gently. It wouldn’t do to tell her the truth, that Hana was more interested in raising weapons than daughters. That she still clung to the dream of liberating Doma, reviving the Washi clan with their children poised to lead it.

“Your mother wants to make sure you understand and cherish our culture,” he said instead. It was mostly true. There was a reason Arashi and Sanda had been taught to speak Doman first and Eorzean second. Not that they had needed much coaching. The pair had a natural grasp of language. And despite Hana’s constant barrage of complaints and criticisms, Arashi had taken to swordplay like a fish to water. In Doma she would have been hailed as a prodigy. But they were not in Doma, and it was never going to be enough for the blood-soaked demon that was Hana Washi.

For a while the two were silent, the cocoa slowly vanishing from their cups. Eventually Arashi spoke. “Tell me about my home.” The anger in her voice was gone now. Instead she sounded like what she was: a girl looking for answers in the past her mother held in such high regard. Kaien smiled, ruffling his daughter’s hair. She took after her mother, deep violet in the roots burning to red at the tips. None of his own grey-white hair made it in there. That all went to her sister, slipping into her deeper purple curls.

Kaien leaned back on his hands, looking up at the thatched roof of their tiny house. “Doma,” he began after a spell, “Always caught the sun on its morning journey. No matter how grey the clouds may have been in the night, the rising rays were always, always enough to banish them.” That was how they had known the Garleans were coming. Their dark cloud of warships laughed at the feeble sun. They had burned and pillaged and slaughtered, all for the imagined crime of Primal summoning. For confusing their auspices for hateful mockeries of the kami. He shook his head, noting the concerned look on his daughter’s face. No good would come from that memory.

“Your mother loved the sunrise. Every day she would slip out of bed, not even a stocking on her, and let the morning sun greet her properly.” She was radiant, her scales reflecting the sunlight in such a mesmerising fashion. The swish of her tail, her upturned face, her…

Well, perhaps best not to linger on that one either. Not with a child present.

Arashi elbowed him nonetheless, apparently catching the lovesick glint in his eye. She looked disgusted as only a girl still growing into a woman could. You’ll understand one day, my little storm cloud.

Still, she couldn’t disguise the smile tugging at the corners of her scowl. “Your mother does love you, you know.” Kaien saw the uncertain look cloud her features. “She acts as she does because she wants you to be the best that you can be.” The best fighter she could raise. A successor to her bloody legacy, but turned to liberation rather than pointless violence. “And she would sooner cut off her own arm than do anything to hurt you. Or your little sister, for that matter.” Quiet, concerning Sanda. Nine summers old and already so serious, so focused on catching up to her big sister. It was plain to see that she idolised Arashi, but she was too focused on chasing her sister’s shadow to seek her own path. Still, she was young. Too young, really. She would find her way, even if Kaien had to talk some sense into her mother to make it happen.

Doma is lost. Dravania is our home. Why can’t you see that, my blossom?

As if summoned, Hana burst in through the door. From the roaring giggle, Sanda was right behind her. More than likely the pair had planned such a dramatic entrance on their way home. “Behold, non-believers! The fiercest blade in all of Doma has returned!” Hana was all bravado and boisterous movements, but she couldn’t hide the relief in her eyes when she saw Arashi nestled against Kaien’s side.

Kaien caught her gaze. There would be words about this incident later, when the children were safely asleep.

But for now, he rose to his feet and opened his arms. Hana leapt into them like she had always belonged there, purring into his chest with satisfaction. Another, smaller weight, hooked itself to his leg. He looked down to see Sanda there, staring up at him with her big, serious eyes. He smiled down at her and her answering smile was enough to banish the darkness in his heart for all eternity.

Arashi, not to be outdone, slung an arm around his back. She did not, he noticed, extend her mother the same courtesy. She’ll get there. Give her time. Hana pretended not to notice. Kaien squeezed her tighter anyway.

Not everything was perfect. Nothing ever could be. But he had the lights of his life clustered around him. For the time being, that was enough.

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Family Ties

The Dotharl don't have parents, as such. Of course Keshet technically had a mother who'd birthed him, and he supposed that one of the older men was technically his father, but it was unlikely even the woman who'd given birth to him knew who it was. "Family" in their tribe just didn't work that way.

Keshet had once overheard someone in Limsa say that "it takes a village to raise a child", but he suspected they didn't mean it quite as literally as his people did. Dotharli children were raised communally, with no stronger ties to their birth parents than to anyone else in the tribe. Keshet didn't even know who his "mother" was, and he didn't particularly care. When you were reborn amongst the same people over and over, tracking those sorts of ties was tedious at best and uncomfortable at worst. When you gave birth to the spirit of your own mother or your mate, you didn't necessarily want any sort of parental tie to be at the forefront of everyone's minds for this incarnation. Family ties within the Dotharl, if you were to try to chart them the way Eorzeans did, were messy and complicated, and the tribe was perfectly content to ignore them altogether. So everyone had a hand in raising any children born to their tribe, and it was the soul deep bonds that took precedence over the flesh-driven ones.

Though certainly the Dotharl's rebirth made them unique, they were hardly the only ones to raise their children in such a fashion. Every tribe on the Steppe had their own values and traditions when it came to family. Plenty of them did follow the same customs as Eorzea, where parental lineage dictated how and by whom a child was raised. But more still had their own definitions of family, utterly different from one to the next, as was so common on the Steppe. The Borlaaq raised only their female children, and left the males behind after they were a year old - a heartless practice, even by Keshet's rather callous standards - and their devotion to matrilineal ties was absolute. The Iriq took in any discarded male children, and raised them as a group not entirely unlike the Dotharl, if somewhat less complicated for the lack of an intricate webbing of bonds. Ties of blood mattered little and less to them, and near as Keshet could tell they all treated each other as one large, rowdy group of siblings.

Which was not to say that all of Eorzea was so beholden to the idea of mother and father and child making a family. Just most of it. (Certainly there was more nuance to it than that, since even the very family-focused nobility of Ishgard had slightly broader definitions of family than that, what with their branches and offshoots and bastard children -- and wasn't that a concept that boggled Keshet's mind.) He could certainly see hints of his own upbringing in Eorzea's Miqo'te tribes, though the entire concept of a Nuhn puzzled him. Why should mating rights belong to a sole person? Keshet supposed that, rather unlike the Dotharl solution of simply not knowing who your parents were, it ensured that everyone was very well aware of their relation to one another. It certainly did seem that everywhere he looked outside the Steppe, people valued parental ties far more than he ever could. The communal family of the Dotharl suited him just fine.

So no, Keshet really didn't understand the intense bond that seemed to link parent and child. But he could certainly see the hurt in Alphinaud and Alisaie's eyes as their father turned from them, not a hint of a quaver in his voice as he announced, "Alphinaud, Alisaie. As of this moment, you shall no longer bear the name of Leveilleur. How you choose to live your lives is no longer my concern. If you wish to walk the path of ruin, I will not stand in your way."

Keshet could feel the jolt that went through the twins like levin shot through his own heart, his nails biting into his palm with how hard his fist clenched. The only thing that held him in place was the grief pooling in Alisaie's eyes and the faint tremble to Alphinaud's shoulders.

Perhaps he did not understand the bond between father and child, but he certainly knew what it meant to be family, and this wasn't it. But fine. If Fourchenault wanted to abandon his children, Keshet would be there for them instead. His "family" always had room for two more members, and to hell with the ties of blood. In truth, Alphinaud and Alisaie had been siblings of his long since they'd been stripped of their own family name. And if Fourchenault didn't like that, he could suck eggs.

-

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[akirakirxaa]

👔 : A clothing headcanon

Despite Persephone's willingness to ignore societal norms and expectations, there was a bit of a culture shock in the Unsundered Azem AU when she awoke in Eorzea. Having lived her life in a world where people were mostly fully covered at all times, even their faces, seeing people willingly baring arms and legs and chests definitely surprised her. Persephone was especially taken aback when she bartered for some clothing that better matched her new surroundings only to find the skirt she was provided was quite short. [Canonically, the hyuran starter gear.] Though she does adjust to Eorzean fashion, she still gravitates towards robes and coats much of the time.

[valkariel]

Amane's Whimsy

Adapted from Amane Maeve's "Eorzean Whimsy - BLM".

I'm such a fan of their work, and this glamour in particular has a wonderfully color palette and cozy feel for black mage. The weapon choice is also spectacular as those colors are echoed on the pattern of the sleeves and the gems of the skirt. Please check out the original look!

Bonus charm point: The color palette works really well with the Dreadwyrm palette, so I made a couple minor tweaks to work for my character's lore.

Head: Archmage's Petasos - shadow blue / dalamud red Body: Turali Traveler's Shirt - shadow blue / soot black Hands: Spaekona's Wrist Torques - default / default Legs: Spaekona's Skirt - shadow blue / metallic brass Feet: Archeo Kingdom Shoes of Casting - default / default

Earring: Manalis Earrings of Casting Neck: The Emperor's New Necklace Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: Epochal Ring of Casting Left Ring: Dreadwyrm Ring of Casting

Main Hand: Anemos Vanargand - default Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: -- Mount: -- Location: Kozama'uka - Miyakabek'zoma

Shader: Faeberry Bloom

[rexharasta]

1. Rex Harasta

2. Au Ra Dragoon

3. Horn piercings made of pale quartz crystals

4. Late 20's

5. Very go-with-the-flow. Tends to act cool and calm around others. Can get caught up in feelings and be dramatic about it, and very much lives in the moment. Can easily swing into bad mood and just as easily swing out of it.

6. Loves Eorzean "cool" fashion, but spent most of his years in little more than a loincloth and won't hesitate to return to that if he feels even a little stuffy.

7. A struggle. Learning how to defty climb sheer cliffs along the Yanxia Bay was a necessity for life for his clan. Tribe leaders were too stubborn to consider an easier path or even open trade with other clans, so most days were spent learning how to be self-sufficient.

8. During the events of ARR-Endwalker, he had little to no time to think about his desire to reunite with his clan, to let everyone know he still lives. Post-Endwalker, he made the effort to return to the Harasta tribe. Pleased to find his siblings alive and the tribe finally flourishing by being more diplomatic and trading with other tribes, Rex also felt he'd grown apart from them and now seeks a new purpose. His excursion to Tural was as much for him as it was for Wuk Lamat.

9. The rewards for his deeds have been more than enough. He hardly stays in one place and doesn't need a steady home and income.

10. Having spent 24 years eating almost exclusively spitroasted fish, anything new and tasty is his favorite dish.

11. Returning home to find his tribe dead from a similar disaster that took his parent's generation.

12. Spearfishing. It reminds him of home. Also loves to climb big city buildings.

13. DPS!!! KILL!!!!!!!

14. Between navigating cliffsides and his lancer and dragoon training, he's an exceptional climber. Can also pound a bottle of mezcal and stand upright. A talent to some, a problem to others.

15. Not an eorzean native. From the Harasta tribe in the most eastern part of the Azim Steppes, along the Yanxia Bay. The clan was once a hundred strong, but more than half died when an unusually strong storm pounded the cliffsides, causing a massive rock slide that fell into the ocean. The clan's elders were in the process of getting everyone deeper inside the cliffside caves to safety when it happened. None survived, leaving the young to fend for themselves going forward. Rex believes it was a primal that caused this.

16. Dead. Gone with the storm.

17. Four of them are all alive. Rex worried about their well-being during his travels. When he mustered up the courage to return home after the events of Endwalker, he nearly wept with joy to see them alive and thriving. Since then, they've left the Harasta tribe to expand their horizons. Rex frequently seeks them out now just to make sure they're safe.

18. In a sense, the rest of the clan is his extended family. But for years after the storm, it's was a competitive environment where they strongest got to eat the most, and some would deprive others of food so they could eat just a little more. Things are better now, but a bitterness lingers as Rex struggles to put the past aside.

19. Has yet to conceptualize the idea of "The One" but loves his friends and siblings dearly. Has experienced a couple crushes but between his poor grasp of the eorzean common language and a little bad luck, he hasnt found someone who reciprocates. He had an arranged marriage with his clan, but all those plans fell apart after the storm.

20. After gaining some renown, he quickly grew uncomfortable with bedding everyone who threw themselves at him. For a while, especially when things were dire, he'd only proposition someone to mutually relieve some tension. After the events of Endwalker, he's been entertaining flings more. Still waiting for romance and sex to make a connection.

21. Gil is an unfortunate necessity since he doesn't suffer from greed. Rarely needs more than what's on his person, let's Tataru handle the money.

22. Once an avid and exclusive believer in Azim and Nhaama, his worldly travels have changed his perspective. All walks of life have their own faith, each follows similar dogmas with flavors of their own cultures. Rex has made his own conclusion this his sun God and another's sun God are the same, and their mythos is catered to the beleiver's culture, and that goes for the other gods. On the other hand, he believes worshipping a primal is dangerous. Even if the worshipper is tempered, he believes they're still partially responsible for the destruction the primal causes. So when he learned Hydaelyn is also a primal, he saw himself as hypocritical and questioned his own actions. This was one of the key moments that led him down a dark path during the events of Endwalker.

23. Zenos, for the longest time. Even now he fears his return. Otherwise he still clings onto old rivalries from this clan, even if his rivals have grown out of it already.

24. He'll never admit it, but Estinien. Rex has been the stronger dragoon since the end of Havensward. But it's Estinien's ability to change, reflect, and walk unburdened that he aspires to. He also envies Estinien's role in the scions. Able to come and go as he pleases, always on the outside of the hurricane while Rex is squarely in the middle of it. Rex would someday like to cast aside his Warrior of Light title and be no more than a traveling adventurer like Estinien.

25. He has old memories of exploring the cliffsides with his siblings, learning how to spearfish with his mother and father. Simpler times. More recently, the brief pauses between adventures are memories he holds fondly.

26. He's slow and uneducated without much desire to learn. He also has issues with vanity and can be caught staring into a mirror at times.

27. Freedom is paradise. And one must work towards attaining freedom through personal training and surrounding ones self with others to help them stay unshackled.

28. Honestly relates to them more than most eorzeans. Rex is quick to feel like an outsider, but with the beast tribes it feels like everyone is on the same level.

29. Not being stronger when his parents died. What remained of the clan needed guidance and Rex got trampled over by more assertive members. It was his wounded pride that led to him accidentally falling into the ocean himself, getting lost as sea and ending up in Gridania. He thinks if it wasn't him, someone else would bear the burden of being the Warrior of Light. Maybe someone better.

30. Rex still can't read eorzean common. He always worms his way out of any tasks that require it, and is always thankful to have Y'shtola around since she'll happily take up the task.