#ffxiv virgil

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

A Test

Collab. drabble w/ @sorrel-haven [Lament].

Virgil continues to experiment.

It started as a burning heat in his veins, followed by a rush of icy shards along his skin. Virgil heaved, gripping the table as he steadied himself. As his vision blurred, he could just barely make out the shifting perception of his hand. The surface morphed and bubbled, afterimages gyrating and separating. Whether he was simply seeing double, or if his attempts at experimentation were successful, Virgil wasn’t able to gather. He passed out on the floor before he could come to a proper conclusion.

Virgil came around again with copper on his tongue and a pounding headache. He moved to sit up, squinting through the dim light to examine his hand. It looked the same as ever. He breathed out a faint sigh through his nose. 

Results of experimentation: Uncertain. He’d note that in his journal, if he had the damn thing. He was fairly certain Miyu got their paws all over it again. Frankly, he didn’t have the energy to retrieve it just yet. 

The steady ache of his mouth and the ghastly taste of blood in his mouth forced him to stand. He made his way out to the kitchen, where he rinsed his mouth out at the sink. He stayed over the sink awhile, holding himself steady as he gathered himself, eyes focused outside the window as he fought off lingering nausea. 

Outside the window, he caught sight of a hawk preening itself at a branch. He stood there, watching it for some time. Lament silently leaned against the counter, observing Virgil as he did the hawk. Though, they were trying to see how bad his condition had gotten. Without a word Lament opened a cabinet behind them to get out a first aid kit. 

It was full of the standard bandages, salves, and antiseptics. This kit however had more than a few vials and bottles of various types of potions that Odetta had made. Lament selected one labeled “For Virgil” and swirled it and held it to the light to check its contents. Virgil’s head tilted to one side upon hearing the clink of a glass. He looked over his shoulder to Lament. 

“Quite the shadow, aren’t you?” Virgil remarked, a subtle slight at Lament’s silent appearances. He straightened up, rolling his head and taking in a deep breath. He took one more glance to the hawk outside.

“I believe a bird bath would make a significant addition to the outdoor exterior,” he hummed, turning to look at them properly.

“You’ll have to let Arabella know that. She is the home maker.” Lament turned to Virgil, and held out the potion. “Here, Odetta made these, she’s an accomplished alchemist among her other accolades.”

Virgil gave a hum in consideration. He walked over, taking the potion and inspecting it. He popped open the cap and gave an experimental sniff. 

“I see. Mayhaps such a feat is covered in your songs and tales?” Virgil jested, though the dry delivery could have made it come off as sardonic. He drank the potion, expression tensing at the taste. Virgil coughed, wincing at the throb of his tongue. The pain began to subside shortly after.

“Ah yeah, shoulda warned you, it tastes like medicine. Because it is.” Lament teased.

“I’ll be taking off later to retrieve a journal taken from me. I believe Miyu once again couldn’t keep their hands off things that aren’t their own,” he grumbled. 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” Lament pulled out the journal from their pocket. “Miyu gave it to me to return to you, something about it being in the middle of a pile of feathers when your mimic exploded?”

Virgil’s eyes widened a fraction. 

“How… generous,” Virgil flatly responded, narrowing his eyes. He held out his hand to take the journal back. “And that was it, no blackmail?”

“Well, I was handed it while it was open. They slid it across the counter at Eolas to me,” Lament said nonchalantly while handing Virgil the book.

Virgil gave Lament a blank stare. 

“And I suppose you kept your eyes to yourself?” he remarked while he inspected his journal, as if to check for any traps somehow. Virgil paused. 

“Eolas, hm? I don’t believe I’ve been there. Across the counter – I presume you work there now?” he inquired, lifting his gaze to the other. 

“Only to help out Aunt Luluci,” they said while leaning back against the counter. “I don’t think you should be going anywhere for a while though. You’re not looking so well.”

“And the location?” Virgil cocked his head to one side in thought. “Perhaps I may-”

Virgil was caught off guard as Lament reached over to Virgil putting his hand on his cheek. Lament’s eyes scanned Virgil taking in all the clues to his condition. Her concern showed through her usual stoic demeanor. Virgil was getting worse and Lament didn’t like it.

His expression didn’t change, but a faint warmth crept across his pallid cheeks. Virgil stepped back, raising his other hand up to brush hers away. 

“I am by no means a fragile creature. And I have alternate methods to go about how I would like. I am only tired today after a bout of research-”

There was a loud shatter as the potion bottle fell to the ground. He glanced down, not recalling the feeling of letting go. Virgil stretched his hand out, peering down as he recalled what he had seen in the haze before he had passed out. 

“...I suppose I’ll attend to that,” he grumbled.

“‘Not a fragile creature’ my ass,” Lament said as they snapped their fingers and a broom popped out of a nearby cabinet and swept up the glass on its own. “These experiments are killing you.”

Seeing as Lament had started cleaning up the glass, Virgil made no attempts to attend to it himself. He stood there, examining his limbs, as if to try and catch sight of what he had seen before. 

“Or bringing me to my next stage. I believe I may have achieved some form of… discorporation. The manner of controlling it, if it is what I believe, should come next,” he murmured, more so to himself than to Lament. 

“No.” Lament grabbed Virgil by the collar. “You can't seriously be considering continuing with your condition deteriorating like this?! You’re dying Virgil. You can’t become something else if you’re dead.”

Virgil made no overt reaction – until Lament made a mention of Virgil’s intentions, which he had never spoken to her about. His expression darkened, and he reached up to grab their wrists to push them off him.

“You pried into-”

“You did the same to me! Don’t act like it was some heinous crime!” Lament snapped. “I flipped through, big deal. I don’t want to watch you kill yourself. Not after I just started to like you.”

Virgil’s jaw tightened. Well, they were certainly right about the journal prying. 

“All but the honeyed words of a minstrel. Save it for those which you treasure, not someone who is but a ward to you,” Virgil sternly retorted, his eyes steady and cold. 

“Gods, for someone so smart, you’re so fucking stupid. I. Like. You. You fuckin idiot. You are a friend to me.” Lament crossed his arms and returned the stare, but his was fiery.

Virgil’s head tilted in the other direction. He was silent for a long moment.

“Then that would make you the idiot.”

“I never claimed to be smart.”

[hythlodaes]

i know you understand this. you and i are one and the same.

[ro-valerius]

[Virgil and Miyu (mentioned) belong to @ffxiv-f13ndish !]

Tofu had been growing more and more uneasy the more time passed without hearing anything from Miyu.

They had promised to be safe, and he was trying to have faith, but he also couldn’t help the pit in his stomach. He knew how people could take advantage of the trust of others. And frankly, he didn’t trust that woman or her captain in any capacity. He tapped his fingers against his arm in agitation. In any case, he wasn’t getting anywhere by standing around. His best lead was to go to the inn room Ro had offered Miyu. With that, he set off to Gridania with steel in his eyes.

Virgil had visited the inn room on occasion, having been sent out quite a few times to not only keep tabs on his assignment, but also keep them distracted. Going inside, however, was entirely new. The investigator let himself inside with a key he had acquired from Miyu. The Elezen poked around inside, going through some of the Miqo’te’s belongings. In particular, he was looking for a specific stone. After some fruitless searching, Virgil sat on the edge of the bed, eyes affixed on the unlocked door as he waited; after all, the stone wasn't the purpose of this visit.. Given the nature of Miyu’s connections, Virgil expected that someone would come. In the waking moments he had been with them, Miyu had expressed a hope for otherwise. Virgil sat there and waited for as long as necessary, patience not once wavering. Finally, he heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps, followed by the turning of a door handle. Virgil didn’t once stir from his position when the door would come to open, body language comfortable and confident despite the potential danger of what was imminent. “Good evening, little rabbit.”

Tofu approached the door, lamenting the heaviness in his boots; he should have come in his warm weather clothing, those boots tread more softly. But he tried anyway to be as quiet as possible as he paused in front of the door, listening for anything that might suggest that Miyu was actually safely inside and he had nothing to worry about. But it was silent on the other side of the door. He tried the handle, and to his surprise, it turned. He frowned. Miyu would not have been careless enough to leave it unlocked, would they? Carefully, he pushed open the door, really hoping he wasn’t about to invade a sleeping Miyu or something equally as alarming. But when he was met with a poisonous “Good evening, little rabbit” he was on edge immediately. His eyes narrowed at the elezen situated comfortably on the bed.

“Where’s Miyu.” It was not a question, it was a demand.

Virgil’s austere gaze followed Tofu with hawk-like precision, his composure eerily still. “I suppose I should have expected a discourteous greeting, given your upbringing,” he icily remarked, discretely inferring that he had been researching the other in-depth. How much he really knew, however, he didn’t specify. His head tilted to one side in a quick, bird-like manner. “Your companion is alive, thanks to myself intervening on their foolishness. Before you twirl your little blades, will you allow me to elucidate?”

Tofu continued to glare at Virgil, a dangerous glint in his eyes. It wasn’t his knives the man had to worry about, not yet. “Explain quickly, or they won’t stay still long.” The tone was even, but held an unspoken threat.

A fraction of a cocky grin twitched at Virgil’s lips. “Patience, little rabbit,” he said, taking a lengthy pause; whether pausing to think over everything that had occurred, or simply to just toy with Tofu, was for him alone to know. “I presume they had told you they were going to see an informant, yes? Well, they are particularly… ah… what do you call it? Easy, you know?” He remarked, putting vague emphasis on the term. “I am a man of my word, and I take my work very seriously. However, I suppose I’m not exempt from my own morals. I intervened and brought them to my own residence. That is where they were,” he explained, though in the manner of how he finished his explanation, it seemed there was more waiting on his tongue. He motioned to Tofu with a slight nod of his head, as if waiting for a response.

It took everything in Tofu’s willpower not to grab the pompous elezen by the collar. He took in a deep breath, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Lot of words for saying nothing at all. You obviously have more to say, keep it concise.” He hadn’t gotten an actual answer yet, he had noted the past tense in the location.

“Ah… of course. I’ll explain more to the level of your capacity,” he casually remarked. His eyes still trained on Tofu, the perceptive investigator made note of the ominous twitch in the Viera’s fingers. He responded by calmly resting his hand across the cover of his grimoire, talon-like nails tapping lightly against the edge of the opening. “In other words, I saved them. I brought them to my residence. And last I heard from my partner, they left. If you believe me to be lying, I do have further proof of their condition. Shall I show you? Or will any sudden movements send a knife in my direction?”

Tofu really was trying to remain diplomatic in order to get information. But this man made it so tempting to just deck him… 

“You said they left, what direction did they head in?” It was taking everything in him to stand still.

While Tofu had not given him a response to his offer, Virgil gave a response. With his other hand, he reached for his chest pocket, plucking out a withered red carnation. “Last I saw them, when they were conscious, they said it might mean something to you, hm?” He let go, allowing it to limply fall to the ground. “As for the direction they went… that, I suppose, is something I will have to figure out soon as well. It is my job, after all.” He gave a cold smile. “Frankly, Mr. Currybun. I don’t believe they wish for you to see them right now.” He tilted his head in the other direction with the same quick, bird-like movement. “Or perhaps they wish not to see you?”

Tofu had decided that was all of the information he would get out of this man. In one swift motion, he crossed the room, grabbing Virgil by the collar and landing a solid punch to his good eye. He had warned him about using that name, coupled with the many other transgressions Virgil had made in the meantime, it was high time he shut him up.

Perhaps Virgil really had spent too much time talking. While his eyes never once left Tofu, the man moved faster than he expected. The moment Tofu stepped forward, the Summoner began to quickly draw out symbols on the cover of his grimoire with the pad of his finger. But Tofu nailed him right in the eye before Virgil could Summon forth any of the more powerful creatures to his assistance. With the swiftness of the other man’s fist, all that Virgil managed to conjure was a simple Ruin spell aimed at his target before the blow startled the book right out of his lap.

The spell hit Tofu square in the chest, but Tofu was used to worse at this point. Perhaps the man hadn’t gotten a full cast out, but it didn’t matter. Tofu swiped the book and the carnation off the floor and straightened, looking down at him with dangerous eyes. And without a word, he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him as if to relieve some of the anger that remained. He needed to find Ro, if anyone could help him, she could.

[sonatanotwo]

We need more virgil, please reprise this fan role !!

More Virgil? XDa Considering how much I see Virgil across my dash, I have trouble believing there's a lack, but lol <3

I... never really specifically stopped as such, but... largely those I played with moved on annnd like... Bro is my Scott... so like... there's no replacement. lol

Never say never, but at least at the moment, my Virgil is kinda shelved for now. Sorry prolly not the answer you were hoping for. ^.^;

[belialdior]

singing, sinking, dying, diving.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[sorrel-haven]

Calm before the Storm: Pirate Attack

another part of the Calm before the Storm Arc! a triple collab between me @ro-valerius and @ffxiv-f13ndish

f1endish characters: Miyu (featured) Virgil (mentioned) Ro-Valerius characters: Hana (featured) Tio (featured) Tofu (featured)

Kore and friends had some unwanted visitors.

---

Kore was pretty sure she made a deal with a devil, but if it got them where they needed she was prepared to pay that price. Her own searches were not getting them any closer to finding Magnus. Virgil probably wasn’t their best shot, but it was as close as they were going to get. She just needed to explain all of it to Tofu and Ro and hope that they understood.

She walked home with Tio and Hana this time. Tio could watch Hana fine but she felt more comfortable being there to watch Tio’s back. Not knowing exactly how close these grounded pirates were made it that much more imperative to stay in numbers. She just hoped Tio didn’t think she was babying him.

Hana grabbed Tio by the sleeve, a bit of exhaustion showing on her face; while she may have gotten better with the stone, she still wasn’t fully able to use it properly. Tio looked down, noting her tired features, and leaned down for her to clamber onto his back. With a light grumble, she put her arms around his shoulders and let him lift her to carry her home. 

“Don’t waste your efforts on that guy, Hana… Especially since you haven’t properly learned how to use that stone yet,” he murmured. She only nodded and pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck. 

“That guy…his aether was…wrong. Like he’s dying by inches. I hate him…” she murmured.

Kore patted Hana on the back. “We don’t have to like him, sweet girl. We just need to use him.” Her jaw set as she spoke. Tio gave Kore a sidelong glance.

“I should hope we don’t have to like him. Whatever it is you lot are up to, let me come with you. I don’t trust that guy at all. I don’t trust anyone who circles around what they mean to say like a vulture after finding its next meal. And I’d rather you and Tofu don’t have to deal with him alone- er, not alone alone, but you get what I mean,” he said, giving as good a shrug as he could with Hana still latched to his back. 

Kore sighed. “I suppose it might be prudent to have strength in numbers. But it’s not my call. It was hard enough getting Tofu to agree to bring in Mina…” that last part came out more of a murmur.

“Ah yes, stubborn rabbit being stubborn again. I suppose we’ll have to see,” he said with another half-shrug. 

Meanwhile, another felt like they were dying by inches. 

With Tofu’s fever down, Miyu didn’t feel the need to hover around the man anymore – and didn’t exactly want to suffocate the guy with their presence. It helped that there were other folks at home, too.  Miyu was much too tired to go out to the cafe, so they settled on going out for a brisk walk around the neighborhood, just to feel the fresh air on their face. 

Now, they were fighting to get some air into their lungs. An assailant’s hand was clamped over their mouth, the other holding a rope taut as it tightened around their neck. The more Miyu struggled, the more it tightened.

“Don’tcha remember me? I was one of yer visitors,” a voice from behind growled into their ear. There was a harsh tug of the rope. “This is how ya tried to take the big man out, wasn’t it? A shoddy job, too. I’ll show ya a better one.” 

There was an exchange between the assailant and another, a woman’s voice. Only words they could pick out between the whooshing and popping in their ears were “dead” and “alive.” Probably one after another in the form of a question. Two voices, perhaps. Three? They couldn’t tell. And it won’t matter if they try and find out if they run out of air before then.

Blood spilled into their mouth as they bit into the hand clamped over their mouth, a sickening crunch erupting under the sound of a pained yell. Startled, the man let go of their face, and Miyu took the chance to run. The rope slipped from the man’s grasp as he collided into his partner nearby, and it fell away from their throat as they bolted, though not without a stinging burn across their skin. 

With splotches of black and flashing little lights swimming across their vision, Miyu wasn’t entirely sure where they were running, or if they were even anywhere close to the house. All that they knew was that they couldn’t stop.

It was nothing short of a miracle that when they did stop, they had dizzyingly arrived at the house they had been staying at. They fell to their knees in the lawn as they finally tried to catch their breath.  Miyu held a hand to their throat, staying hunched over as they caught their breath. Their brows gave a pained twitch when they heard a very familiar set of footsteps. A familiar trio, even. Fantastic. Kore rushed to Miyu’s side, sensing their distress.

“What happened?! Are you okay?” She caught sight of their neck and began channeling aether to heal the rope burn. 

Hana, now alert after hearing Kore’s panic, and seeing the state of Miyu’s aether, launched herself off of Tio’s back and rushed over to them, lifting their face in her hands gently. She blinked slowly, trying not to let the images flash through her mind, her friend’s current state is more important than the how of it. 

“H-hey…why are you pulling a Tofu and coming out alone?” she asked, softly indignant. 

She leaned forward and kissed them softly on the forehead, letting a small amount of healing go into it as well. They wouldn’t have wanted her to see what happened, so she pretended she didn’t see anything, though she wondered if the slow blink might give her away after the last time...

Miyu readjusted to sit up straight, coughing to clear up their airways before they could respond.

“Three of them… not far from here. I think,” they got to speaking, though their voice was still hoarse. They looked down the road, squinting as their vision focused on shadowy figures delving further back into the distant void of the night. They gave a frustrated huff, fingers hastily working at untying the binds at their wrists. “Lovely night for a run, huh?”

“Agreed,” Tio said, immediately bolting in the direction Miyu had indicated before anyone could stop him. 

“Hana! Get Miyu inside!” Kore shouted before rushing after Tio. She trusted Hana to listen.

She dashed forward chakrams out, catching up to the reckless miqo’te. She was not about to let him go alone after he expressed his own concerns of doing things alone. Not that he had the intent to go alone, but he’d be damned if he let the bastards get away from them so easily. He could hear Kore close behind him and smirked. He knew he could trust her to catch up.

Touched as Miyu was that their friends were so quick to defend them, they couldn’t help but give a little snort in amusement at how fast Tio and Kore ran off into the dark. They reached over to Hana, taking her hand to give it a squeeze in thanks. 

“For the record… I was not intentionally pulling a Tofu. I thought those snakes were off in the middle of the ocean still,” they gently rebutted with a weak chuckle. 

Miyu followed Hana inside, and froze immediately at the door as another thought came to mind. 

“Speaking of such… let’s wait a bit on telling him, yeah?” they said in a low voice, not yet noticing the man in question sitting across the room. Tofu looked up from a stack of papers he had been working through at the dining table, a look of suspicion on his face.

“Tell me what?”

Miyu gave Tofu a long stare when they registered his voice. Subconsciously, they held a hand to their throat. 

“Tell you what?” they absurdly returned his question, not quite prepared for an alibi. 

Kore threw her chakrams over Tio’s head, catching the closest one square in the back. They zoomed back, narrowly missing Tio as Kore recalled them. Tio barely registered the chakrams as he leapt onto the back of the guy that had just been hit, slamming the man’s face into the ground with force, before launching himself back towards the other two assailants. Kore aimed at the one that Tio didn’t take, throwing with an overhand one after the other.

A portal opened up in the sky above them, a familiar orange haired viera falling through and landing on the woman that Kore had just attacked, the second chakram just narrowly avoiding hitting him as she recalled it back to her. Tofu pulled both knives out of the woman’s back as he straightened, a dangerous look on his face.

Kore huffed, “A little warning before you drop in would have been nice!” 

She threw her chakrams at the last man. Tio saw the chakrams coming and ducked out of the way, finally noting his brother in the fray and smirking. He figured it was only a matter of time. 

Tofu’s eyes locked on to the last man standing, the one Kore had just thrown her chakrams at. There was a disturbing lack of expression on his face as he rushed the man, giving no time for reaction before both knives were buried to the hilt in the man’s stomach.  

Kore caught her chakrams, and eased up her stance. She rushed over to the dying man and grabbed his face, trying to look into his mind for any others in the area before he had the chance to take the information with him. Tofu turned his attention to her.

“Are there more?” he asked, with even less inflection in his tone than normal.

“Not here. But… In Horizon. We should go,” she said through the pain of delving into the fading memories.She let go of the man, letting him slide off Tofu’s knives to the ground and turned to Tio and Tofu. Without a word, Tofu started off towards Horizon, using the small window of time with the two of them being behind him to press a hand to his chest and wince before burying the pain. Teleportation still sucked, confirmed. After a brief moment of surprise at not being told to stay behind, Tio followed along behind him.

[katewalker]

Iris wanted to showcase your bg3 oc to the roomies, came back to me howling that there was no Pernille and seriously this gal can't be taken seriously (you)

I know she's hot AF but Pernille is FFXIV exclusive. I could try to make her in the BG3 CC to appease the roomies tho lmao.

My barbies are often for one universe only otherwise brain doesn't work. Only exception is Virgil and I can't wait to flaunt them to you 💟

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

bc lestat @macarensesangles asked, here are all the dæmon headcanons i have for the ffxiv characters :)

Thancred - flying squirrel named Torthred. the nutkin that follows him around. Squirrels in medeival times represented industriousness, but also biting off more than you can chew. Thancred is also a spy, and a small, surreptitious dæmon capable of gliding is good for the job. He's warmer than Thancred, and generally has gotten over himself where Thancred hasn't.

Y'Shtola - a king eider named Virgil. She's a witch, and all witches have flying bird dæmons. Ducks are symbols of rejuvination, spring, and loyalty-- they were also associated with Penelope, Odysseus' wife and her namesake. He voices Y'shtola's more ruthless, straightforward side-- he's wont to measure things by occam's razor.

Urianger - a tawny owl named Pruneta. Owls are associated with Minerva of course, as a symbol of wisdom and strategy. Often plays translator for him, hilariously, putting Urianger's flowery language into plain (well, plainer) english.

Alphinaud - settles into a parrot during Heavensward. Her name is Angeleaux. Parrots represented wit and intelligence, but also a foolhardiness-- someone who likes to hear themself talk. Angeleaux was exactly as self-assured and pompous as Alphinaud was too. It was a bad sign that they were so often in agreement. After she settles, she becomes a lot less bossy, but still has an impulsive boyish streak to her.

Alisaie - settles into a wildcat during Stormblood. His name is Aloyscius. Wildcats represented ferocity and nobility, as well as witchcraft. He's a total spitfire and loves arguing with Alisaie. The two are frequently at odds, both desiring to leap into action but not agreeing on how. Through Dragonsong into Stormblood they learn to compromise more, and to look before they leap. He has a girlish sheepishness to him, like Alisaie gushing to Tesleen about the Warrior in The Inn at Journey's End.

Tataru - a cairn terrier, like Toto from the Wizard of Oz. Tataru is a servant of the story, making sure everything runs smoothly. He's a bit more of a warrior than Tataru is, standing up for her and others, and like Tataru he's an all-arounder, good at most things in a pinch.

G'raha - a charming hummingbird named Athanasius. Hummingbirds represent the nobility and warriors of the Aztec empire, as they were associated with Huitzilopochtli, the god of the sun and war. This would allude to G'raha's princely lineage. As the Exarch, since his dæmon would be a dead giveaway as to his identity, Athanasius hides under his hood and the Exarch pretends he is not a person at all, merely a construct of the Crystal Tower. G'raha is already dorky and emotional and vulnerable, and Athanasius makes it all the more apparent. When G'raha wants to be responsible and focused, Athanasius darts around to anything that will interest him, desperate to sate his endless curiosity.

Ryne - A Honduran white bat named Godelieve. Bats are associated with witchcraft and scrying. Honduran white bats are very small with golden wings, giving an impression of a miniature sin eater.

Estinien - a salamander named Yves. They were thought to be born of fire and immune to its flames, perfect for someone tested by the hardships of life and associated with the blood of dragons. Originally I thought a horse would be good for Estinien, but I figured it'd be hard to do those flips with a horse dæmon.

Haurchefant - a turtledove, also known as a mourning dove. Perfect for a doomed romantic such as himself. A plain, common dove is also good for communicating someone locked out of nobility. 

Zenos - a Komodo dragon named Slibinas. The process that made Zenos a resonant severed her from him. :(

Varis - a grey wolf named Sallustia. She's a fucking piece of work.

Emet-Selch - an unsettled dæmon, as all the Unsundered have. Her name is Agesander. As Solus zos Galvus, she took the form of a lammergeier (bearded vulture) and still prefers this shape, though also is inclined towards snow leopard, ewe, the tamarin, and chimera. She also does not have any limit on distance of how far she can travel from him. Lammergeiers are associated with the mythical Huma bird, an immortal bird who was said to never land, and to watch humanity from afar. Agesander is Emet-Selch's shoulder-devil, essentially, taking devil's advocate positions whenever possible. She carries with her Emet's Tempering, and thus expresses priorities related to Zodiark. She's also just as fussy and bitchy, and enjoys a good argument.

CANON CHARACTER MIRANDA FOIGEL - unsettled at the start of ShB, his name is Mulciber. He's much more tender and optimistic, compromising Miranda's cagey and cynical disposition-- the sweet kid that they so desperately try to not be. He tends to take plain, practical forms, and eventually settles as a river otter or a porcupine. Haven't decided.

Venat - Also technically unsettled, it's just-- it's argos, man. You know argos. The only thing more unsettling about this dog was that if it could talk.

Hermes - Meteion is his dæmon :(

Aymeric - he gets the horse. A white stallion, Ishgard's pride and joy. Merlwyb - Bottlenose dolphin Kan-E-Senna - White elk Nanamo - Savannah hare Raunahn - Sable Antelope Ilberd - Barbary Lion Gaius - arctic wolf Nero - common jackal The Chais - lovebirds, the both of them.

[shroudkeeper]

I am the storm that is approaching.

[sparkwithinme]

Two months since finished up SHB msq and everything, and I cannot get this damn cat outta my head. (Not that I want to, mind. >.>) Goodness, do I feel so darn late to this party though... cripes. 😂 Oh well.

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

The Journal Just Opened In My Lap, I Wasn't Snooping-

collab drabble w/ @sorrel-haven characters:

Lament [ @ sorrel-haven]

Odetta, Penelope, and Bea (mentioned) [ sorrel-haven]

Virgil [mine, unfortunately]

If Virgil was going to be trapped in a house with strangers for some time, he might as well make himself further acquainted. It was one of those spare moments where Virgil finally didn’t feel like someone else was breathing down his neck. With most family members out of the house – and Lament working in another room – Virgil took it upon himself to slink into a room and begin poking around. He started with journals, flipping one open to read through. 

The journals in the room were older, but not too old, judging by the yellowing of the paper. Each journal’s first page was blank save for a date range in the bottom corner with a name, Kovir Grimvik on the older journals and Lament Sorrel on the newer. The handwriting was all the same.

Virgil rose a brow. He looked between the two journals, noting the identical handwriting. 

‘Kovir, hm?’ the investigator thought to himself, making himself comfortable in a chair as he continued reading through an older journal. He helped himself to a nearby paper and pen, in case he needed to take any notes of any useful information.

I’ve decided. I’m going to record her story. She’s done so much already, I know she’ll be the stuff of legends! I’ll write that legend, turn it into songs sung for generations!

Virgil’s thoughts roamed back to Lament in the other room, and the music he would occasionally hear coming from the other side. A songwriter? Is that what Lament did? Well, that wasn’t all that shocking. What was worthy of further examination, however, was this talk of an admirable figure. He flipped a few pages ahead to skim through. 

Beatrice has an innate affinity for healing magics. Odetta had taken her camping to start teaching her basic survival skills. Unfortunately she was injured protecting her from a stray voidsent. However; Beatrice healed her! With no formal training just pure instinct! Who better to train this blossoming prodigy than Odetta? Bea will be a force to be reckoned with when she grows up.  

Odetta, Nelope and I will be headed to Gridania to fill out the registration forms for the Adventurer’s guild. We’ll get Bea a training wand while we’re there.

Nel can’t wait to be able to travel with Odetta in an official capacity, I can’t either. The excitement makes it hard to sleep. The question now though… Do I register under the name Grimvik? Or Sorrel?

Virgil gave an intrigued tilt of his head. He hadn’t thought much of Beatrice until reading this passage, primarily since he’s kept to himself while residing with the Sorrels. He couldn’t help but wonder what was it that prompted the change in Lament’s name. Had he missed something a few pages back? Or would it be expanded upon further on?

Then again, it didn’t seem like Lament was actually talking much about herself in these journals. He leaned back in his chair and continued on with reading. 

Lament Sorrel… a bit dramatic, but I just blurted it out when Mother Miounne asked me my name for the paperwork. It made Odetta laugh, she liked the irony of “one so optimistic being named Lament.” Mother Miounne was not as amused, however she wrote it down. 

“I couldn’t be more excited to be able to adventure alongside Odetta, and Nelope of course.” Lament read outloud, next to Virgil’s ear. 

The journal fell from the Elezen’s hands when a familiar voice narrated in his ear the next sentence of the passage. Virgil sat up straight, turning his head to look at Lament with a steady gaze, as if they had interrupted him in the middle of his work… rather than him being in the middle of snooping. 

“And quite the adventures you have had, given the text you have accumulated,” Virgil remarked. 

Lament raised an eyebrow and smiled. He walked over and pulled a few seemingly random journals from the shelf. “Feel free to pry, nothing in those that I wouldn’t tell if asked, but I’ll be taking these few.”

Virgil leaned down to pick up the dropped journal, though his eyes continued to follow Lament as he picked a select amount of journals from the shelf. Virgil stood from the seat, but leaned his hip against the desk to keep himself steady as he adjusted to the change in position. 

“What is it that brings you to believe that the subject you write about has a legendary potential?”

Lament was quiet as he considered the question, “Have you ever felt… Warm? Like a sunbeam coming through the window hits you just right as you’re under a big comforter on a winter’s day? Or that feeling when you take the first sip of a hot drink and it just radiates from your chest and belly to warm your everything? Or even just a really nice hug? She’s all that and more.” 

 “She’s warmth, she’s light, she’s strength. She will bring her enemies to their knees and proffer a hand of friendship to help them back up if they accept. She believes in second chances, but will do what’s necessary if it comes to it.” Lament looked down at the books in her hands and brushed her fingertips on the cover.

Virgil gave Lament a long stare.

“I don’t believe that such an impression has ever resonated with me,” he said after a long beat of silence. “Quite the exuberant soliloquy of romanticism for one who has taken up the name ‘Lament.’”

Virgil walked over, sliding the journal back into its spot on the shelf. He pulled out another to flip through. Lament took one of the journals they had and gently bonked Virgil on the head with the spine.

“Did you not absorb what you read? The name is ironic. I’m a very optimistic person!” 

Virgil made no overt motion following the bonk to his head, only giving Lament an unenthused stare.

“I’d inquire if that was really necessary, but you appear to delight in all frivolity, don’t you?” Virgil said with a raised brow. 

Virgil placed a hand on the shelf to hold himself up, letting it linger there for a moment as he discretely steadied himself. 

“A change of name… on top of being a long way from home, I presume. What brought you all this way?” Virgil went on to inquire, studying Lament like a hawk.

Lament chuckled. “You don’t know much of viera culture do you? I’m an exile, it’s customary to change your name when you leave the village. It’s to symbolize you cutting ties with your former life. Since, well, I can never go back.”

He flopped in the chair that Virgil abandoned, putting his legs over the arm of it. He was seemingly unbothered by Virgil’s staring. Lament looked at Virgil, one hand behind their head. He was studying Virgil right back.

“I can’t say I have had the pleasure,” Virgil said, turning his head to one side in thought. He didn’t move from his spot at the shelf, but moved his body to prevent having his back to Lament. His gaze didn’t waver when Lament decided to stare right back at him.

“You write stories into songs. Do you intend to be some sort of… wandering minstrel?”

“Do not compare me to that man!” Lament sat up, “I am twice no three times the bard he is! Plus he thinks he can just use my sister’s story when I already am recording it? I think not!”

A rare smile crossed Virgil’s features, the corner of the right side of his mouth lifting by a fraction. 

“Feud aside, is that not what you are? I fail to see a difference in both of your endeavors. Do elucidate, if you will,” he continued, stepping closer to stand across from Lament at the desk.

Lament huffed and smiled. They leaned forward, rested their elbows on the table and propped up their chin on their hands. “The difference being is that I am the only one allowed to tell my sister’s story. I will destroy him.”

Virgil tilted his head to the other side. “Really, now? I have yet to see such a performance. It would be a shame if he were to tell your sister’s story with much more efficiency.”

“No he’s a hack,” Lament laughed, “I will say, cute of you to rile me up like this. You do know how to push people’s buttons.” Lament stood with their hands on the desk as they leaned forward, mirroring the tilt of Virgil’s head.

“Is it unintentional or do you find the information people drop in frustration easier to obtain than like say, just talking casually?” Lament asked with a calm curiosity. “Befriending someone, letting them tell you things because they want to, I find that very easy, in fact you get a lot more information from an open heart I find! So, is it really easier to make someone mad or does the possibility of getting your ass kicked excite you somehow?”

“Superficial conversation tends to be futile. Nevertheless, I would not pronounce myself incapable of it. Careful peeling away for an open heart may bear noteworthy fruit, but the information obtained is only what the other wishes to share. Or perhaps, only what they know,” Virgil responded hollowly. But casual conversation was easier said than done. Virgil’s preening and guileful presentation could only take him so far – fact of the matter is, Virgil’s social skills were… subpar. “Chipping away at a person’s frustrations is less about the information which is spoken, but what is expressed.” 

He paused, giving a hum as he thought of a way to phrase it. “The flame either expresses a steam of possible potential, or reveals superficial cracks in the glass. While my methods have never granted me any friends, it has allowed me to survive.”

“As for you…” Virgil moved, side sitting on the edge of the desk. His head subconsciously cocked to the side in the other direction, yet again. “Well, perhaps in all your optimism, I suppose pushing you to express your frustration is… thrilling, to a degree.” He cracked a faint smile. 

“Hm.” Lament looked at Virgil for a moment. He reached over and put the back of his hand to Virgil’s face. “You’re more pale than usual. I’ll ask Bea to tend to you.”

Virgil tensed when Lament’s hand reached out, and the elezen leaned back. He reached up to brush her hand away. “I’d say I am in no danger of collapsing. Though, that would be awfully convenient for you, hm? I’ll attend to it.” He leaned a hand on the desk, using it to support him as he moved to stand. 

“It would actually be the opposite of convenient, I would have to carry you to a bed.” Lament walked around the desk and put a guiding hand on Virgil’s back. “Just because your personality is a bit warped doesn’t mean I wish you ill. I’m here to help you. Accept the help.” Virgil’s expression remained as frigid as it ever was, though the apprehension was sneaking through the cracks in the way he fidgeted with his fingers. He gave Lament a long side eye, then curtly nodded a moment later. Lament helped Virgil out of the study and over to Bea. Once Virgil was being cared for, Lament headed out to the Lemure Headquarters to ask them to hold on to her more sensitive journals for a while.

[nylokim]

A lil late upload because work keeps being a bit much laughsob

These were the last pieces of September’s batch, lovingly sent out and adorning my wall of proud comms :)

They are: Auramire and Cass for @asteriiums , Basch and Anya for @thepartwhere4 on twitter,  Eridanus and Lucius for @MegaGayTM on twitter, Nolanel and Elliot for @furymint, and one cute piece for @MsSidereal on twitter!

If you’re interested in commissioning me in this style, [link is here] The comms masterpost has gone through some tweakings including updated prices and reopening date, go check it out!

[ro-valerius]

Virgil is Fucking Stupid

What? He is...

Collab write with @ffxiv-f13ndish [Virgil and Miyu] and @sorrel-haven [Odetta and Luluci]

Virgil didn’t get to talking about what he came over for right away, giving Tofu more time to readjust – not that he believed that Tofu was fragile enough where he needed the time to rest. Really, it was difficult to discuss business with someone when his sister was fawning over him the whole time. Though she didn’t quite seem as he knew her… This must be the voidsent woman she housed.

Once Tofu was settled, Virgil took a seat across from him, Fa-el beginning to make her way to the stairs now that she was no longer needed.

“Now then, I’m sure you’re aware of Nhagi’s association with voidsents. I have a proposal on hunting it down. I have a method of tracking the voidsent within her – the same which may consume it from her being entirely,” Virgil began, sitting back in his chair as he awaited Tofu’s response. 

Fa-el paused, then turned, making her way back over with slow, calculated footsteps. Seemed something Virgil said had caught her attention. There was something akin to fury in the pools of abyss that were her eyes, and her shrouded hands clenched into fists briefly. She kept her gaze steadily on the deteriorating elezen, a cold expression on her face. She hopped up to sit on the dining table between them, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on her hands. 

“I cannot allow you to let that voidsent be consumed by anyone but me. Nor do I appreciate the implication that you do not believe me capable of tracking down my own… subordinate,” she said, leaning over and hooking a finger under Virgil’s chin to bring his gaze to her eyes. 

“Ah, Fa-el, so nice of you to deign to speak to us,” Tofu remarked dryly. “Do try not to antagonize our guest.” Fa-el turned an impish grin towards Tofu with a shrug, removing her hand from Virgil’s proximity. 

“If you insist, pretty boy,” she said. 

Virgil tilted his head in interest. 

“So you can speak, then. I hadn’t been certain of the nature of your… development,” the elezen remarked. “And it seems you are quite acquainted with the mage’s own little shadow. I cast no disregard to your abilities, though it does beg the question of why you haven’t made your mark yet. Fa-el, yes? A pleasure to speak with you directly.”

Fa-el scowled at him with a near-bored expression. 

“Cannot say it is a pleasure to speak with you. As for why I have done nothing so far, Vira is quite adept at hiding her own aether, and I’m sure that woman that has consumed her has figured out how to use it to her own advantage. The question that I have is how that wretch managed to merge with my beloved so easily… Though that pixie’s revelation gives me something to ponder on that matter,” she said, though most of it was her own thinking out loud, while part of it was ‘I can go on and on, too, rat’. 

“Yes, as far as she presents herself – it appears to be an efficient merge,” Virgil said, voice falling flat just a tad. 

“Aw, jealous~?” she cooed lightly before Tofu smacked her in the arm. 

“Behave.”

“No,” Virgil stated, a pause soon following. “I consider it to be more akin to an inpatient apprehension. I wish to understand her fully. Unfortunately, to dissect her would mean to catch her. As you have mentioned, she is adept at hiding her aether.”

Virgil leaned forward just a bit.

“You wish to consume your beloved. A lover’s spat? Or mere carnal hunger which your type tends to exhibit?”

Fa-el leaned towards him as well, her bored expression remaining.

“It is a mutual desire. We wish to become one, we were merely interrupted when those mages locked me inside this woman,” she corrected, leaning back. 

“And it is good that you are not jealous, you should not be. Their joining… Either Vira will consume that woman, or I will consume Vira, the only uncertainty is which will happen first. While I have come to an accord with Fiora, a mutual understanding, Vira and that woman would not be able to come to a similar accord.”

A quick glance at Tofu could almost be overlooked, if she didn’t have to turn her head slightly to do so. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his expression clearly indicating that he was done with her shit.

“Nothing~” she purred.

“A mutual understanding? And what would that be?” Virgil inquired, unconsciously tilting his head in the opposite direction now. Fa-el held a finger to her lips and winked, a hushed ‘later~’ barely audible.

Virgil stared back with a blank expression.

“You behave as if it is some sort of secret, but your stare at Tofu and this… cheeky response with him in the room infers that he has something to do with it. And from what I presume, there may not be many later conversations to be had, hm?” Virgil responded in an aloof manner.

Fa-el rolled her eyes; really, stuffy men were just no fun.

“Oh, his involvement is no secret, but the nature of it is between me and Fiora. And what makes you presume that there may not be many later conversations? I do hope you don’t think I’m going anywhere when all of this is over. Unless it is you who might not make it to the other side of this?” she asked with a curious tilt of her head.

“Fa-el, if you have nothing of use to say, stop making my sister’s body do things she would never do, it’s starting to weird me out a little,” Tofu interjected. Fa-el rolled her eyes again, though had the decency to give him a sheepish smile before turning back to Virgil, holding up one hand in a ‘go on’ gesture. 

“Fine, then, have you any productive questions for me, elezen?” she asked. 

“No. I don’t believe the concern of what is left and what is to survive applies to me in this situation,” Virgil responded with a weighted stare — not directed at Fa-el specifically, but to the individual the voidsent bonded to. “I do look forward to future conversations. It seems I have yet to bore you. I am not one to engage in games, however…”

“Would it not be a fascinating game to see who is consumed first? Be if you and your beloved, or them and the beast mage — or perhaps, between the maws of the artificial voidsent I have created myself?” Virgil drew out his last words intentionally, perhaps to hold the attention of the voidsent whom he spoke with.

“You insist you are very well capable of finding her. It should be no competition, as you insist — and yet you intercede on my suggestion. Do you not enjoy games, Fa-el?”

The laughter that erupted out of her bordered on the insulting, a hearty bellow that sounded odd in Fiora’s voice. She turned a toothy smile to Virgil, amused at the nature of his assumptions. 

“Oh, you funny little man. There will be no other outcome. That woman will be eliminated, my beloved and I will be joined. When you brought up consumption before, I thought you had some actual, feasible plan behind it, but an artificial void creation?” she said, her voice light with mirth. She leaned towards him again, a glint even within the shrouded eyes. 

“Darling, an insignificant little thing like you lacks the ability and understanding to create any void being strong enough to consume even Vira. And I am stronger than Vira by far. Your toy would do nothing against us, and I do not speak from overconfidence.” She leaned back, expression dropping as she eyed him. 

“You would do to learn more of the source of your own endeavors rather than going about under-educated experimentation. That is why you are falling apart at the edges. That is why you are doomed to fail, and watch people like Fiora achieve the things you desire without detriment to themselves. You think your toy a success, but your toy is also doomed to failure.”

Virgil’s expression remained stagnant as the voidsent spoke down on him, his eyes icy and calculative while he observed Fa-el.

“A creature caught in an endless stream of time – knowing no beginning nor end – lest struck down prematurely. This is my beginning. My fall may be my creation… The timing is unfortunate presently, given prior agreements I’ve taken responsibility for. Nevertheless, I do intend to proceed to my next stage. You’ve had quite the stages to scale, Fa-el. After all, powerful as you may be, you’ve had your fall of vulnerability when you were interrupted and contained in a vessel,” Virgil responded.

There was a moment of softness in his gaze as his eyes fell.

“Dante… he grows stronger by the day. I sense no instability in him. All that falters is his mind. He continues to be my success. There’s promise in him, he just needs time.”

The stone cold wall of his gaze hardened once more as he met Fa-el’s own once more.

“Regardless of needless competition, it would benefit Tofu to have more than one hand on deck.”

“Do you not listen? Or do you lack the ability to comprehend? I am trying to help you. The way you are going about your ascension will cause you to lose the very things that make you who you are, you will lose the reason for becoming."

"As for your…Dante, while his body is stable, it is exactly his mind you should worry about. Lest he become a mindless thrall to the darkness, educate yourself so that you might still make a success out of him, educate yourself so that you might recall what it is you’re trying to become one with the void for once you achieve that goal. If you do not, you will both be lost,” she said, her eyes taking on a sad edge as she stood from the table.

She started to walk towards the stairs, but paused to look back at him.

“For someone who is supposed to be learned, you’re brash and reckless. It would be a shame to waste that mind of yours carelessly.” Then she continued up the stairs. Tofu buried his head in his hands.

“You both talk too much…” he grumbled.

Virgil went quiet in consideration of Fa-el’s words. He never fully evaluated Dante’s mind. What is to become of him? And what is to become of himself now? Virgil’s eyes fell to his hands, which appeared to flicker in his lap. He clutched his hands together and gave a faint sigh through his nose.

“Uh, sorry about her, I think… Thousands of years old and still can’t figure out how to play nice with others,” Tofu said with a heavy sigh. 

He stood and grabbed a couple of cups and a jug of water, setting a cup in front of Virgil and filling it with water before doing the same for the cup in his spot. He returned the jug to its place and settled back down at the table. Tofu eyed Virgil carefully, but didn’t say anything more.

“If you come to live over a millenia, manners and courtesy tend to become purposeless. No sense in obtaining friends – or enemies, for that matter – if you can simply outlive them all,” Virgil said with a shake of his head. He fidgeted for a moment, snapping his fingers with a tense brow.

He picked up the cup set before him with a nod in thanks, then took a sip. The water spilled from the glass as his hand shook. As he went to set it down, the glass passed through his hand and spilled across the table.

“My apologies. I’ll go get a…cloth,” Virgil apologized as he moved to stand. He took one step from the table before he collapsed.  

Tofu was out of his chair and at Virgil’s side in an instant, checking for a fever…or a pulse. The elezen did have a pulse, but he was cold and clammy to the touch. Tofu had to resist the urge to shake his hand as he couldn’t help but compare the feeling to that of a corpse…

With a sigh, he draped one of Virgil’s arms around his own shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged him to the couch, laying him down with a surprising amount of care. The temptation was there to carry Virgil the way Virgil had carried him, but the man was too tall and gangly for that. He tucked a pillow under Virgil’s head then straightened, pulling out the small ceramic bell and giving it a ring. 

Daen Lad was, of course, not there. He had forgotten. After their excursion to the Library, the pixie had disappeared, gone off to find someone for answers. With another sigh, he went upstairs to drag Fa-el - no, Fiora was back - back down the stairs. She followed without complaint, though he didn’t explain beforehand. He gestured vaguely at the couch. 

“Watch over him a moment, I have to make a run to the Sorrel house to get… one of them, I don’t even care which one at this point…” he asked, a weary edge to his voice.

“Do be careful not to strain yourself, you have two new injuries and I’m not dumb enough to believe that you haven’t exacerbated your older ones,” she said, knowing full well she could not change his mind if she tried. He nodded, then stepped outside.

He took a deep breath to brace himself, then teleported straight to Gridania. The blue glow and the gentle hum greeted him as he staggered into the plaza. Odetta barely caught him from fully stumbling as he appeared right next to her. 

“Oh! Welcome to Gridania, Tofu. Are you well enough to be teleporting like this? Dolly was very concerned about your condition, last I heard,” she asked as she looked him over. Tofu offered a sheepish shake of his head.

“Haven’t…been well enough to teleport for several months, but this might qualify as an emergency? I had to find one of you, Virgil’s passed out at the house and feels like a corpse and I can’t get him back to your home by myself…” he murmured, not realizing that he had pressed a hand to his chest.

“Oh dear… Don’t- Uh this will sound weird- but don’t worry about that too much, he feels like a corpse all the time. The passed out thing is a bit concerning! I shall send Luluci ahead of us.” She snapped her fingers and Eos appeared. She looked to the fairy. “Please ask Lulu to go check on Virgil, my dear?” 

The fairy nodded and flittered off to find Lulu. Odetta looked back to Tofu.

“We should have you sit a moment, Lulu will get there quickly,” she said as she guided Tofu to a nearby bench. Tofu resisted with another shake of his head.

“I should get back before one of the others wakes up, Fiora is already going to give me an earful, I don’t need anyone else getting on my case for- I don’t need them getting on my case,” he said, stopping himself from admitting that this was not the first time he’d teleported in recent times. 

“Then we lie! I will take you home in my carriage, my chocobo is very fast. It will not be as fast as teleporting but it will give you a chance to rest and you can tell them that you met me on the road,” Odetta said with a smile. Tofu gave her a surprised look. 

“...You’d do that?” he questioned softly. 

“What, lie? Oh all the time, sometimes you just gotta lie. But like… Little white lies that don’t actually hurt anyone. I mean… Don’t like lie if you’re like dying or something, but-”

“Yeah okay I get it. Uh, thank you. If it’s all the same to you, can we get going…?” he interrupted, noticing a look in her eyes that reminded him of when Hana was about to go on a rambling tangent.

“Oh! Sure, we’ll have to take the ferry to the Lavender Beds, the one by the Lancer’s guild. This way!” she said as she linked her arm around his, tugging him along. Tofu didn’t have enough fight in him to wrest his arm back from her, begrudgingly allowing himself to be dragged along. 

---

Tofu leaned back against the side of the carriage, allowing his eyes to slide closed, though he wasn’t in danger of slipping out of consciousness. He was worn out, but he could keep going just fine. Odetta looked back at him.

“We’ll be passing into Thanalan soon… So… What did you get yourselves into? Virgil collapsing usually follows him exerting himself,” she prodded.

“Virgil did very little, actually. He came over, carried me halfway home until I got out of his grasp, then he talked with Fa-el for too long probably,” he said with a half shrug, not really elaborating on his own adventures of late. 

“Wait… Who’s Fa-el?” she asked with a tilt of her head. Tofu lifted his head and looked towards Odetta. 

“Oh. Right. The voidsent woman that got sealed inside of Fiora,” he said, realizing that he didn’t actually know how much Odetta knew about Fiora.

“Oh! I vaguely remember something about that… Someone must have mentioned it over a shared meal. Lulu insists on us telling stories at the table whenever we can manage to eat together.” Odetta looked up as she tried to recall.

“Ah, I just don’t keep tabs well on who knows what, got a lot of other things to deal with. If you need clarification on anything, just ask, I’ll do my best to provide it,” he said, leaning back against the side of the carriage again.

“In any case, the most Virgil did in my presence to exert himself was try to carry me back to the house. I…don’t know what caused his collapse.”

Tofu’s hand once more rested against his side as he stared up at the sky from under the canopy of the carriage. Big, billowing clouds drifted lazily across the sky through the last remnants of the boughs of the Shroud. There was something…peaceful about the sight. He could almost get lost in it.

Odetta hung the reins on a hook and turned to look at Tofu fully. She watched him silently for a moment before smiling; a peaceful carriage ride seemed like something he really needed. She spied a moogle coming up to the carriage, probably to chat with her, and put a finger to her lips, shaking her head no. The moogle pouted for a moment before flying off to find someone else to play with. 

The Shroud finally gave way to the Thanalan landscape. The chocobo pulling the carriage chirped in distress as the road changed from the soft Shroud soil to the hard Thanalan road. Odetta turned back to the chocobo.

“There there, Squeak, I know you don’t like this road but you’re a big brave boy,” she cooed.

Tofu narrowed his eyes at the more intense sun of Thanalan and pushed himself to an upright position, resting his arms across his thighs. A faint smile flickered at the corners of his mouth at the name she had given her bird. She seemed the sort for cutesy names like that. He was briefly grateful that she was more worried about Virgil than she was him, since she hadn’t pressed him on matters…at least, not yet. But they had a fair bit of distance yet to cover, so he didn’t hold his breath.

“...How’s Lament?” he asked, finally breaking his silence.  

“Recovering from their latest job with Rika,” she said as she turned back to him. “Things went a little sideways, as things are wont to do. But they’ll be fine! Mostly just over extended their limits. Rika almost got eaten though… She didn’t seem too fazed by it.”

Tofu tilted his head. Rika… Rika… Ah, the woman with the white hair and cold demeanor. 

“No, I don’t think that one would be fazed by much of anything. I am glad that Lament is recovering well from that. They’re not going to be too happy when they find out about Virgil,” he murmured, the last part mostly for himself. “Make Lament carry him back like a princess.” 

That wasn’t meant to be out loud. 

“Ah, forget I said anything,” he said, looking away sheepishly. Odetta couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s so specific though! What prompted that?” she said, still giggling. Tofu groaned and rolled his eyes.

“That lanky bastard must have thought it would be so funny, even though I told him I just needed a moment…” he grumbled. 

“Ah, hmm.” She sighed lightly. “I’m glad he’s acting his age. He should be goofing off more like that.” She tilted her head as she smiled at him. 

“Honestly, it’s good for you too. To goof off. You have a lot of burdens, so I hear. Having little moments to be silly, they’ll help you not break,” she said softly. Tofu’s hands clenched in his lap as he kept his face turned away from her, though he had to relax his bandaged hand as it burned.

“I am not so fragile that I would break so easily,” he said, his voice so quiet that it wasn’t clear if he intended for Odetta to hear him, though there was a hard edge to it. 

“Never said you were,” she said with an even tone. “But even the strongest metal breaks with enough pressure. We need to let ourselves be in the moment, let the pressure escape through our laughter. Be with our family in times of levity and times of strife. Stand with our family and not stand alone.”

“Trust me, I know, because I am the strong one for my family. I protect them all the best I can. But my strength does not and should not negate their own. My family picks me up when I falter, and I let them. Because to deny their help is to deny their strength and that’s just insulting.”

“I’m trying,” he all but whispered. “Decades old habits don’t relinquish their hold so quickly. Trust…is hard to give, no matter how much I want to, no matter how much I know that I can, I have spent so long being the only person I could rely on that I don’t know how to…accept anything else.”

He got quiet for a moment, watching the road wind away behind them.

“I-” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. Odetta smiled softly, not an ounce of judgment in her eyes.

“You don’t need to start with trust, start with acceptance. If someone offers their hand more than once, accept it.” Her ears perked up as she quickly added, “I’m not saying to blindly take the hand either, you can be ready to catch yourself if the hand lets go. But typically if someone really wants to help, they won’t stop holding out their hand after one rejection. Acceptance is the first step in building trust.”

Tofu opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught on a gasp of pain as his chest flared aggressively - he really should not have teleported, though it was impressive that he made it this long without repercussions. He gripped his chest tightly as everything spun around him, dropping to his knees on the carriage floor. Blood dripped heavily between his lips as he struggled to hold himself up.

He had made a string of terrible decisions that day and this was his consequence. 

“Squeak, steady ahead!” Odetta prompted the chocobo. She hopped from the driver's seat to the back of the carriage, her expression focused as her maternal instincts took over. She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

She knew better than to try to do anything more than hold him steady, even though it killed her to simply watch. She waited for the worst of it to pass before she pulled a cloth out of her pocket and offered it to him.

As the pain subsided bit by bit, he leaned heavily against the seat he had vacated, still gasping for air as he took the cloth gratefully. His eyes took an extra moment to focus on her concerned expression. One hand kept him propped up as the other went back against his chest. 

“S-sorry, it’s fine, it’ll pass,” he murmured, trying to offer a comforting smile that was belied by the blood still flecked on his lips. He blinked as he remembered the cloth she had just handed him and attempted to get the blood off his face, at least.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I am a mother by choice, it’s my nature to worry, even for those not my own.” She smiled softly. “That is one nasty curse for sure. I see why Dolly was so concerned.” 

Tofu gave a slight tilt of his head. There it was again. The idea that Dolly, who hadn’t cared about him until that point, could get to the point that she was actively worried confused him. Had something changed at the Library? He hadn’t done anything he would consider special.

“Dolly was…?” he asked, sitting up straighter to grip his shoulder tightly. The bullet wound throbbed from all of the commotion. Odetta frowned as she took away Tofu’s hand to look at the wound. She noted there was no exit wound. It must have gotten stuck on bone, or didn’t have enough powder in the round.

“Squeak, pull over boy,” she called over her shoulder. As the chocobo pulled the carriage off to the side of the road, she dug around under the seat for her medical supplies. “I’m going to put a numbing salve on this till we can get you home.”

He offered what he hoped came across as a reassuring smile.

“It's…kind of treated. Blomma and Ro weren't home so Fiora did her best- well, Fa-el had to because Fiora is blind, but that's a long story. I should have let her wake Miyu but I didn't want to worry them…” he tried to assure. But the injury had definitely bled through, he had felt it under his hand. “Blomma should be home shortly after we get there, she should be done with work…sooooon.”

“... Yeah, I’m putting the salve on and then taking a look when we get there.” Her tone made it clear it was best not to argue. Tofu blinked at her.

“R-right,” he agreed reluctantly. 

—

Shortly after Luluci had stopped by to examine Virgil, Miyu had stepped away and repositioned themself to wait at the door for Tofu’s arrival. They remained at the entryway, holding a medical kit under their arm, as they tapped their foot and kept their eyes straight ahead. Fiora cast a look at them from across the room.

“...Do try not to bombard him as soon as he gets home, alright?” she prompted softly. She did not think that he would arrive…rested.

While she was also not happy with Tofu’s choices, she also knew that he did not need to be chastised as soon as he set foot through the door. Or by multiple people. 

Miyu gave a faint sigh through their nose as they rubbed their shoulder, brow in a tense furrow.

“I’ll behave, promise,” Miyu said with a chuckle. They took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let a slow breath out. Yes, they were prepared now. Luluci looked up from tending to Virgil.

“Fiora, Miyu, please prepare a space for Odetta to dig out that bullet left in Tofu’s arm, I can hear her grumbly thoughts from here,” Lulu sighed. Fiora gave a flat look.

“Useless fuckin’ voidsent didn’t even-” she started grumbling before doing as instructed. Her eyes flickered black.

“I heard that.” They returned to normal.

“Good.”

Miyu’s gaze lingered on the door as they let out a soft huff, before moving on to prepare the space. They looked to Fiora and opened their mouth to speak, then reconsidered. Nevermind what they just saw. 

“They’re here, someone go open the door,” Lulu said without looking up. Miyu promptly sped walked towards the door.

“Odetta, good to see you. Tofu… hello, darling,” Miyu greeted upon opening the door. They stepped to the side to allow them in. “Glad to see there’s enough of us now to carry Virgil’s body to the hole we dug.”

They were attempting to lift the mood. Judging by their tense expression, it wasn’t working. At the sound of Miyu’s voice, Tofu moved to walk slightly behind Odetta as they entered the house. He had been really hoping they’d still be asleep…

“H-hello,” he muttered as he passed them. “I sure hope Virgil isn’t a corpse, would be a waste of effort.”

“Yes yes, Virgil’s like a corpse, very funny. Now get over here so I can get that bullet out properly?” Odetta said with a bit of a huff. The mother’s patience began to wane.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming…” he grumbled, making his way to where Odetta was to treat him. Fiora huffed.

“I thought you got Fa-el because she could see?” she said. 

“I did. No one said she was good at medical treatment,” he responded. Fiora shot him a glare before stomping up the stairs, a ‘stupid rabbit…’ making its way down behind her.

Miyu’s hand remained on their shoulder as their gaze lingered on Tofu’s own. They held their tongue and turned their attention to Odetta.

“Everything should be set up now. Let me know if you need anything else,” they said with a nod. They made their way to the kitchen to grab a bowl of water and some extra towels.

On the other side of the room, a corpse-like elezen began to stir. Luluci put a hand on his chest to prevent him from getting up too fast. She watched him open his eyes for a moment.

“Glad to have you back with us. But what were you up to that caused all this, hm?” she asked, peering into his mind as she did so, in case he was disinclined to answer.

Virgil glanced down at the hand on his chest with a small scowl, but nevertheless made no attempt to sit up. He shut his eyes for a long moment as he fought off the pounding headache that had begun to creep in. As he turned his head away to pinch the bridge of his nose, more silvery locks fell before his eyes.

“Ah, of course he alerted you. I-”

“I thought you were dead,” Tofu called from across the room. 

“He didn’t even need to alert me! I told you I would be checking in on you.” Luluci rolled her eyes.

Virgil shot Tofu a glare. Upon doing so, he noticed Odetta was present, as well.

“Ah yes, let us call the masses, shall we? I-” 

“He didn’t ‘call the masses’, I was at the aetheryte in Gridania. Don’t fret, Lament doesn’t know… Yet,” Odetta interrupted.

“And they won’t have to know. I only had a brief fainting spell after neglecting to grab lunch – it’s fine,” Virgil quickly responded. He turned his attention back to Luluci. “As for what I was doing… I had only come here to speak with Tofu. I found him battered and hopeless on the floor outside and had to carry him back to the house. I suppose I spent much of my energy doing that.” 

“Liar.” To Tofu’s surprise, Lulu said the same thing at the same time, though for clearly different reasons. He raised a brow at her.

“That’s not all that you did. You can’t hide your thoughts from me, I am much more practiced at peering than you are at concealing, young man,” Lulu said, crossing her arms.

“And you didn’t have to carry me, you decided to even though I told you I just needed a moment. And I wasn’t hopeless!” Tofu was tired, and perhaps a bit more immature in the face of it. A hiss of pain and a muttered ‘ow’ escaped him as Odetta dug around in his shoulder.

“Well if you wouldn’t fuckin’ move…” Odetta grumbled.

“Well, you certainly appeared so,” Virgil said with a cough. He cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to Luluci. He supposed it was useless to conceal it.

“There was a change… I felt it. I just needed to draw it out somehow. It hasn’t killed me-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘yet’ or anything of the sort like that!” Lulu snapped. “I am not sure you understand exactly what it is you are trying to achieve. Your single minded pursuit is leaving you blind to what you’re actually doing to yourself. You will not live to achieve your goal on this path.”

“May I finish any of my sentences?” Virgil flatly responded. 

“Not until you stop being stupid with them,” Lulu scolded.

Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out.

“My life is not of your responsibility – and before you interrupt me again, I will not be moved from that stance. I know very well what risks come with what I’ve done to myself – I’ve weighed these factors. There is nothing I will stay behind for,” he coldly remarked, voice steady. He opened his eyes again and held his gaze with Luluci’s, but there was a distance in them. 

“Man, you really are, stupid, aren’t you?” a voice from the stairs said. Fiora - no, the shrouded eyes and hands indicated that this was Fa-el - sat upside down on the stairs, hands clasped on her chest. “Doesn’t matter if you die, does it? Does it matter if you remember? What even are you doing this for? To be better? But why? For what purpose? Who are you helping by doing any of this, because this course of yours helps absolutely no one. You won’t even be yourself at the end of this road.”

“Godsdammit Fa-el…” Tofu muttered.

“There is nothing about myself I wish to retain,” Virgil snapped back – for once, he was concise with his reasoning. 

“Not even your mind? Fool.”

“Lament will be so happy to hear you’re willing to sacrifice your memories of them,” Lulu said, narrowing her eyes.

“Okay! I think that’s enough of that for now,” Odetta said as she finally retrieved the bullet. “Miyu, please hold a cloth to his shoulder while I prepare to stitch it now that the bullet is actually out.” Fa-el shrugged as well as one can while sitting upside down on the stairs. 

“I am not medically trained, don’t ask me why he asked me to do it,” she said, no trace of remorse in her tone.

“Could have just woken me up,” Miyu grumbled quietly as they shot Fa-el a look, but they went ahead and held a cloth to Tofu’s shoulder with one hand, while the other fondly smoothed his hair out of his face. They sent a curious glance over to Luluci and Virgil.

Virgil was silent for a long period of time as Luluci’s comment about Lament lingered on his mind.

“...They know what is to occur if they are to be involved with me,” Virgil said, his voice low. He moved to sit up. “Enough of this. I should be heading back now. I’m sure Tofu doesn’t need more of an audience than he already has while being stitched up.”

Luluci rolled her eyes once more.

“Sure, okay. Don’t consider that you are involved with a hopeless romantic that actually hopes for the best,” Lulu said, staring daggers into the elezen. Fa-el sat up, allowing herself to slide down the stairs backwards until she hit the ground floor and stood up.

“Yeah, okay, become a mindless, aether hungry void thrall like the beings that haunt Hawke Manor, I don’t even care anymore. Waste your intelligence, your goals, your aspirations, to become nothing more than a floating eyeball creature with no will of its own outside of ‘consume’. Have fun, moron,” she said as she shrugged and went back up the stairs. Tofu groaned at her as she left. 

Virgil held onto the couch as he stood to his feet. He stared straight ahead. Trouble was, he had considered who he was with. And it was the only reason he hasn’t gone away to pursue his experiments on his own. He wouldn’t say this now, though — especially not in front of everyone. He did, however, show hesitance in his body language by remaining still in one spot for a prolonged period of time. 

“Fa-el…” Virgil began, only to realize she had gone back up the stairs. Never mind that, then. Another time. He continued out the door. Luluci watched as Virgil left and she shook her head.

Stupid child. Whatever was she to do with him?

Odetta meanwhile finished patching Tofu up, with fresh stitches and bandages. She started to clean up the mess of medical supplies she made as she instructed Miyu, still acting as her second pair of hands.

“Oh, and Tofu,” she said, placing a small jar in his hand, “this is that numbing salve. Give it to Blomma as an apology for using her other supplies. It’s very potent so she’ll only need a little. There’s an applicator in the lid.”

Tofu blinked heavily as he took the jar. Numbing salve or not, having someone root around in your shoulder is not the most comfortable sensation, his eyes were still unfocused. He tried to offer a soft smile, but it came out tense still.

“R-right, thanks,” he murmured. 

His hand probably needed to be properly looked at, too, but he would ask Miyu or Blomma to deal with it later, Odetta had done enough already. He made a mental note not to get the voidsent to apply medical treatment in the future.

He brushed his fingers across the bandages around his abdomen; between the incident at the Library and what has transpired today, there was a lot to cover. He couldn't help but think ‘I really am a mess, aren't I?’ as he sighed heavily through his nose.

“Oh don’t think like that,” Lulu said, suddenly by his side, giving his thigh a pat. Tofu jumped a little. “You should have seen the messes Odetta would get in! You would think being a mother might have tempered that, but no.”

���H-hey! Lulu, let's not bring up those stories.” Odetta said quickly, her cheeks a little flushed.

“Well, I’m sure you were able to handle it with a certain grace,” Miyu hummed, though they glanced at Luluci with a raised brow, as if inquiring about what she spoke of.

They absentmindedly reached for Tofu’s hand, but paused upon seeing the bandages — ones which were badly wrapped at that, too. Their brow twisted as they gently took his hand to inspect, though they didn’t unwrap it just yet. They held the back of his hand to their lips for a moment as they gave Tofu a questioning look. 

Tofu tilted his head at their look, then realized the hand they held. Ah, they had already noticed. He looked away sheepishly. He didn't know how to answer their questioning look, so he didn't say anything at all, only shrugging dismissively.

Miyu only gave him a small smile. Rather than taking up a seat to get to work, they took a seat on the corner of the table. They unpacked the medical supplies that Odetta had already cleaned up, and then quickly got to work to tend to his hand. 

“I know Luluci loves to tell stories… I’d love to hear more of them,” Miyu said as a playful smirk danced across their features. Lulu’s eyes sparkled with mischief, as Odetta buried her face in her hands.

“No…” 

“Yes!”

“Shouldn’t you make sure Virgil gets home without collapsing again?” Tofu interjected, hoping to save Odetta some embarrassment. Luluci pouted.

“Fiiiiine.” She stood up and headed towards the door. “But don’t think your stories are only kept by Lament, missy!”

Odetta shook her head as she watched Luluci leave, but said nothing in the hopes of not enticing her to stay. Tofu let out a soft sigh of relief. Mission accomplished.

“I suppose I’ll have to swing by later, then,” Miyu said with a faint giggle, quickly giving a goodbye wiggle of their fingers before returning to stitching Tofu up. Tofu watched for a moment in silence before speaking up.

“You didn’t have to worry about this right away. It would have been fine until everyone went home…” he murmured. Old habits, indeed. He would still rather as few people know about his injuries as possible.

“And leave you opened up like this? No, no. You deserve better than that. And you don’t need a nasty infection,” Miyu said with a tut of their tongue.

They glanced up to him and smiled. For a moment, their eyes lingered on his shoulder again. They averted their gaze back to his hand.

“Besides, I’m almost done here. Keep still for me and maybe I’ll get ya a cookie after.”

“Do I look like Hana to you?” he said with a flat expression. He turned his attention to Odetta briefly. “Thank you, uh, for the ride back.”

“Of course, I’ll be on my way as well. Should uh… get the carriage off your lawn…” She headed towards the door with a sheepish smile. “Take care!” Tofu offered a slight wave goodbye. 

“Take care, Odetta!” Miyu chirped back in response. They turned their gaze back to Tofu and gave him a long stare, squinting as they studied him.

“Hm. Nope, not Hana. Just perfectly you,” they said as they finished wrapping up his hand, topping it off with a quick peck on the knuckle. Tofu felt the heat rise to his cheeks and looked away.

The door swung open as Kore rushed in in a panic. 

“Tofu! I-” She blinked as she took in the scene, “Y-you’re okay? But Virgil said- … Oh I need to go kill an elezen. Be right back.”

She turned to leave again, Miyu and Tofu barely catching a glimpse of rage in her eyes.

“Hi, love! Bye, love! Have fun!” Miyu called out as Kore turned to go hunt down an elezen. 

“Whatever he’s about to get, he deserves.”

[chenria]

I posted 222 times in 2021

169 posts created (76%)

53 posts reblogged (24%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.3 posts.

I added 196 tags in 2021

#thunderbirds are go - 48 posts

#original character - 26 posts

#virgil tracy - 24 posts

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#thunderbirds - 15 posts

#oc: samantha knight - 14 posts

#ffxiv - 13 posts

#scott tracy - 11 posts

#original characters - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 96 characters

#especially since this pandemic has reduced my already minimal social interactions to nearly zero

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

First finished piece of 2021 is Scott Tracy. This is good, right? XD I had different plans with the background but that didn’t work out so I whipped up something else... 

I am actually quite happy with how he turned out. I wanted to try to draw him properly for so long now... I only ever did sketches so far. Not sure if it actually resembles him. My style is not super Thunderbirds-compatible. But well... 

I do believe he doesn’t wear that Kevlar suit all the time. When he’s just trying some vehicles Brains modified he could war just some overall kind of thing, right? 

117 notes • Posted 2021-01-04 21:01:52 GMT

#4

I finished something for myself. The first personal art in 6 weeks... woohoo.

 Anyways... I tried a more simplistic coloring to make it look more Art Nouveau? Idk if it worked. I like it and that's the important part here. 

 It's my FFXIV bard Eferia.

The outlines as well as a high-res version of this picture are available for all supporters on Patreon. 

124 notes • Posted 2021-08-05 20:29:31 GMT

#3

Okay. So now that I managed to draw something for myself in April (despite it being not what I had originally intended) I can resume commissions. But I have this goal to at least draw one picture for myself each month (it’s harder than you might think because my brain does like to be creative in general but not when it comes to personal ideas...) 

Anyways. Have a picture of Scott Tracy just sitting around looking handsome (I hope) because, let’s face it, I have a minor major crush on the guy. And I wanted to contribute to the Thunderbirds fandom after they helped me figure out who signed the book I bought last week. 

127 notes • Posted 2021-04-25 12:20:46 GMT

#2

Finished before the heat wave kicks in and before I head to a minor vacation next week. Commission for the lovely @fianva of her fire mage Gwendolin. I used a picture I took of Castle Wernigerode for the background.

145 notes • Posted 2021-06-16 20:00:21 GMT

#1

Okay... this picture took way longer than I expected... but then I tried like a bazillion of brushes and filters and effects to play around with Clip Studio Paint. In the end I got a result I am mostly happy with, so here we go. 

Regency!Virgil and a random horse... 

182 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 19:43:04 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[childoftheblacksands]

((Mozenrath is my only fully passing, fully closeted trans muse. And i have a few specific reasons for that. I’m a trans man, and as such, i’ve written several characters as trans (including NB and intersex) over the years, including Adrian Tepes, Damian Bloodmarch, Lucemon, Sephiroth, Abbacchio, Virgil, and several OCs both from games (Monster Hunter, FFXIV) and original universes. But in all of those, none of them have ever been both fully passing AND in the closet at the same time. And my reasoning is based entirely on my own experience as a trans person, and being really, really fucking sick of “outing” stories. In this essay, i will...))

So, several friends and acquaintances over the years have asked me to be a sensitivity reader for their stories involving trans people. And something i see again and again is people writing trans characters as having to “hide” the fact that they are trans. This really, really gets under my skin, and not just because it’s cliché and boring.

Something cis people don’t seem to realize is that we don’t just decide to become trans one day, and suddenly pass perfectly. There is no such thing as a “sex change operation.” If someone decides to transition physically-- which not everyone does-- it is a process that takes years and lasts your entire life. Clothing is changed, hormones are taken, several surgeries and planned-- and this is all AFTER at least one year of therapy and living as the opposite gender to “make sure you’re ready.” And even with good doctors, insurance doesn’t like to pay for these things. Many trans people who want to transition are not able to, be it for financial or health reasons. And many people only partially physically transition for varying reasons. I, myself, will always have a vagina, because i do not feel bottom surgery is necessary for my personal affirmation, and i don’t wish to risk the small chance of losing sexual sensation. Transitioning to looking, conventionally, like the gender you identify as is a slow and often taxing process. And you cannot isolate yourself for the entirety of it.

People WILL witness the changes in you. And if you ask people during your transition to respect your pronouns, they WILL put two and two together. i am part way through my transition. i am not passing. At work, or in social situations with people i see regularly, i have to ask to be called he and sir. i still look like a “girl.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what i am.

And then there’s the people who knew you before you came out.

Usually, when you realize you’re trans, it takes time to come out. You will have grown up and been raised as one gender your whole life. Your biological family, friends, coworkers, classmates, neighbors, and so many others will know you as that gender. And very few people get the grace of leaving everything behind and starting a new life somewhere. Not everyone even wants that. Some people have good community support. Some people can’t afford to leave. Whatever the reason, there will be people who knew, and there will be some of those who will talk about it. Sometimes, even the trans person will talk about it, if they don’t feel the need to hide the fact that they are trans for safety or comfort.

All of this is to say, many trans people are not passing, be it physically or socially. “Passing” is a rare treat, and not all trans people even want it. More often, what being closeted as a trans person involves is tolerating being called the wrong pronouns, so that you don’t have to put up with the consequences of asking. “Passing,” for many, means being continuously misgendered. Trans people cannot hide themselves nearly as easily as other queer folks. Our existence is loud, often uncomfortably so, whether we want that or not.

Most of my trans characters are out, be it by choice or circumstance. My Monster Hunter OC is known to be trans to the entire Guild because he was pre-transition when he arrived, and does not fully pass due to limited medical treatment. Morn’star, my FXIV character, is out both to make Ishgardian nobility uncomfortable, and because he didn’t start to physically change until later in his story. Adrian is out because the only people he’s around frequently are the people he trusts. Damien is out because his community has known him for years. Lucien is intersex and proud. Sephiroth is intersex and doesn’t care. I don’t play many pre-transition closeted characters because i lived like that long enough myself; i don’t wanna be misgendered in RP, too. But some people like to touch on that part of a character’s story. And that’s also completely valid.

Mozenrath is slightly different. Moze is, somehow, the perfect storm of circumstances that lead him to this very rare position that you usually see portrayed in media: no one that knew him as a “girl” is still alive or around, he’s been grooming himself in certain ways and wearing certain clothing for so long that he’s learned to make himself look like just a very young man, and he has every intention of keeping his identity a secret.

His mother sold him off. She likely wouldn’t know him if she saw him. Destane didn’t care. And he’s dead. Mozenrath was either a street rat or a slave to everyone else. Very few people would recognize him as he is now-- stolen nobility. And of those who would’ve recognized him... well, he made sure to do away with them. His facial structure and underweight frame means he doesn’t have many prominent secondary sexual characteristics. His clothing covers his proportions. As far as everyone alive knows-- except for Xerxes-- he is a cisgender man. And he has every reason to want to stay closeted. He is in a time period and place where, if anyone knew his status, it could easily spell his annihilation. And he’s got enough reasons for people to want to kill him. And, brushing that aside, considering how well fortified he is, it would also mean everyone around him-- or most of them-- would begin referring to him as “lady” rather than “lord.” He doesn’t want to hear this.

i’m sharing this mostly because i just like talking about queer theory and my trans character headcanons, but also because i want people to think about this sort of thing when they’re writing trans characters. i might do a “reveal” plot one day with Mozenrath, but it’s not gonna be anything like it is in the movies, because i actually understand how this kind of thing goes. If someone is passing and closeted, them being discovered is rarely a matter of inconvenience-- it’s rarely to be taken with as little weight as things like, “My boyfriend left me.” For many, it can be life-ending, because some people who are both perfectly passing and entire closeted are so out of fear. Not everyone, obviously. Some people just like their privacy. But for many, it can mean being openly threatened, or treated with disrespect on the daily.

And for those with the choice to avoid that-- for those who are passing and not connected to anyone who knew them before-- it should be obvious why they’d remain secretive.