#gleaner of light

[fate-bound-in-crystal]

Ziero: Twelve, I don't trust him, gives me the Twelve damned creeps.

Ryde: Aye, he's like a snake, and I feel as though he will strike sooner rather than later.

Ziero: I won't let anything happen to Hien.

Ryde: I know, Z, I know.

[zakifairer]

The botanist and the gleaner

[anipul]

Gevlin can finally follow his gleaner dreams. Also I love how the ears stick out on the back view

[cloudofdarkness]

A few more art fight attacks!

For:

Itzal, @sugoishiba @penultimania plagiiue, @loquacioustarragon @ffxivchester and @reapervows !

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy knew it… it was going to rain again! And very soon now, if he wasn't much mistaken. Yesterday's sunshine had vanished just as quickly as it had come, and although the new day had started in a reasonably bright sort of way, it had soon changed its mind and clouded over, and now the sky was turning darker and darker by the minute.

So Algy flew up into the bushes and wallowed happily in a sea of beautiful hydrangeas, before they became truly awash once more. Somewhere behind him a robin was trilling its autumn song, and Algy knew that the seasons had turned once again. Hoping that perhaps the coming months would bear more resemblance to Keats' famous poem than to the typical West Highland autumn he knew only too well, Algy recited the verses out loud to the bees who were busily investigating the flowers all around him, although they seemed too intent on their work to pay much attention:

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;     To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease,     For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?   Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,   Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,   Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook     Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep   Steady thy laden head across a brook;   Or by a cider-press, with patient look,     Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,   And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn   Among the river sallows, borne aloft     Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;   Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft   The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,     And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

[Algy is of course reciting one of the most famous poems in English literature, To Autumn, by the early 19th centure English poet John Keats.]

[academic-vampire]

“Ode To Autumn”

By John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,

Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

(Pub. 1820)

[this-is-ris]

Fly! Ever-forward starry-eyed, to an open sky!  

A warm smile paired with intense bright green eyes greet each new face with compassion and an open heart. Mere ilms away one could catch scents of flora, woods, and cut grass lingering on the Viera- a scent always true to who she is and a reflection of her passion as an Gleaner. Tall ears stand upright with confidence above a blanket of long flowing brown hair; lovingly weaved with fresh flowers and herbs. Though her height and Viera heritage tends to make her stand out more as a denizen of Sharlayan, she is still outwardly approachable and will always see the light in others and gladly offer her assistance to those in need, stranger or not. Sometimes seen with a tome, or maybe a staff but scarcely equipped for combat. The Gleaner's pack stuffed full of tomes, vials and an array of nearly any herbal or medicinal concoction one could need.

Hello! Welcome to my main blog for my FFXIV WoL Ris Dei-ijla. You can find me logged in on Goblin (Crystal) raiding, achievement grinding, or RPing. I am mostly going to be found logged in on my main, Ris- her carrd can be seen here if you would like to get to know her more in depth:

->⁺₊Ris' Carrd⁺₊

I also have two other OCs I've been working with that you may have come across: Dinky Dinky ⁺₊Dinky's Blog⁺₊ Fia Etoinette ⁺₊Fia's Blog⁺₊

Feel free to ask me anything, I love getting to meet new people and gush over blorbos so the more the merrier!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you around! ☾⋆⁺₊

[elizabethrobertajones]

Ffxivwrite 2024

1. Steer.

“Erenville… Can you teach me how to pilot one of those punutiy boats?”

The former Gleaner narrowed his eyes and looked at the widely eager brown and pink eyes pointed down at him from the huge roegadyn. Frog looked earnest, but the problem was that she always seemed such, and therefore it was impossible to judge how much trouble would follow from such innocent requests.

“Why?” he replied, setting down his book beside his plate of tacos.

Frog immediately lit up with delight and sat opposite him, and, injury to insult, reached over and took a nacho from his plate. Aunt Tii always gave a plentiful heap of them but that wasn’t the point. “Well I was thinking, they must be something like hippos, right?”

He nodded, cautiously, very uncertain about that comparison when it came to anything more than superficial similarities of placid aquatic life for enormous grey beasts.

“And I spent a whole summer working for the Hippo Riders in Thavnair. It must be a similar sort of thing, and who knows what may come – if I spend a summer here working on the river, it could be a really interesting experience. Maybe I could even take back what I learn to Thavnair, because the jungles can flood and if they knew – ”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” He sighed. Rubbed his forehead. “I don’t see any harm in it.”

“Oh, hooray! Thank you!”

“I should warn you, though. The riverboat punutiys are chosen to be very large – the skills you learned with the hippos will only go so far. And they don’t react well if you approach them armed.”

She was nodding eagerly, absorbing everything he said. Maybe she was a good student – wouldn’t she have to be to have learned as many disciplines as she boasted? Perhaps, and only perhaps, this wasn’t a terrible mistake.

“Anything else I should know?”

He shook his head and sighed. “I’ll make arrangements to get us a boat… Maybe a particularly docile punutiy.”

She nodded, took another nacho, and stood. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow, then!”

And with that the Warrior of Light strode away, and Erenville could already feel tomorrow morning’s headache creeping up on him.

[amememightywarrior]

i think i did pretty good on this color/light study of everyone's favorite old man cat who was extremely excited about the back support device he got from the gleaner supply depot

[autumncottageattic]

countryhomemagazine

"To Autumn" by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,

Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

[starrysnowdrop]

Hali Aloke

Just the Basics

B A S I C S

Name: Hali Aloke

Nicknames: Little Star (Her family’s pet name for her) and Snowdrop (Aymeric’s pet name for her)

Age: 29 as of beginning of Dawntrail

Nameday: 31st Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon (April 29th)

Race: 3/4 Lalafell, 1/4 Hyur; Appears Dunesfolk, but has both Plainsfolk and Dunesfolk blood, along with 1/4 Midlander Hyuran ancestry

Gender: Female, Cis

Orientation: Bisexual/Biromantic, Male Leaning

Profession: Adventurer and Scion of the Seventh Dawn

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Bright, rose pink in color, straight, usually looks somewhat messy in a wide variety of hairstyles

Eyes: Large, wide, expressive seafoam green eyes that shine in the light; glass-like Dunesfolk eyes

Skin: Fair, and absolutely will burn with direct sun exposure for long periods of time

Tattoos/scars: No tattoos; For scars, just small ones here and there over the years from battle

F A M I L Y

Parents: Father is Taito Aloke, a Plainsfolk lalafell aged 50 in ARR, and Mother is Lalani Lani, a 1/2 Dunesfolk lalafell 1/2 Midlander Hyur aged 48 in ARR. Both Taito and Lalani are researchers in Labyrinthos and members of the Sharlayan Forum.

Siblings: None

Grandparents: Nanani Nani, Maternal Grandmother, a Dunesfolk lalafell aged 75 in ARR and Jovian Carraway, Maternal Grandfather, a Midlander Hyur, deceased by ARR. Nanani is a retired Gleaner living in Old Sharlayan and is a widow to Jovian, who was an Astrology Professor at the Studium.

In-laws and Other: All in-laws deceased; Hali has distant relatives in Thanalan that have no current contact with Hali’s close family

Children: None; Will have three children with Aymeric in the distant future

Pets: An alligator named Boudreaux who also serves as Hali’s mount, a crab named Beignet, and Aymeric’s black cat named BonBon.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Astromancy, Divination, Dancing, Singing, Cooking, Fishing, and Botany

Hobbies: Cooking, Fishing, Botany, Swimming, Ice Skating, Going to the Theater, Attending Balls, Dancing, Singing, Reading fairytales and adventure books, and Playing card games

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Hali is hope incarnate. No matter how grim a situation might seem, she wholeheartedly believes that things will get better. She tries to have a smile on her face and spread her positive outlook on life wherever she goes. Hali thinks that her hope is probably the only reason she’s still alive after so many years on the battlefield.

Most Negative Trait: Hali sees the best in everyone except for herself. She’s very insecure about herself, especially in terms of her appearance and her self worth. She doesn’t see that Aymeric could ever possibly love her the way that she loves him, and she doesn’t think she could ever be good enough for him. Even after they are officially together, Hali still struggles with being kind to herself.

L I K E S

Colors: Midnight Blue, Lotus Pink, Pure White, Celeste Green, and Lavender Purple

Smells: Ocean breezes, salty sea air, scent of fresh fallen rain, flowers of any kind, and musky cologne

Textures: Rain and/or snow falling on her skin, warm water, fluffy pillows, warm blankets, soft plushies, and Aymeric’s hands and/or mouth on her skin

Drinks: Strawberry Lemonade, Fruit Smoothies, Boba Tea, Pink Drink, Hot or Iced Chai, Hot Chocolate with lots of marshmallows

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Never

Drinks: Only drinks wine and certain kinds of cocktails, but tries to only drink when she’s not busy with her Scion duties the next day, as she is a lightweight and gets drunk easily.

Drugs: Never

Mount Issuance: Hali was never given a chocobo, because she said she didn’t need one! She always used a magical umbrella that allowed her to float above the ground and fly her to wherever she needed to go. Later on, Hali found her pet alligator Boudreaux on her Island Sanctuary and she rides him most of the time now.

Been Arrested: Yes, Hali was arrested for being a fugitive that snuck back into Old Sharlayan after being banished for helping to bring Sharlayan Astromancy to the Eorzeans. She was found sneaking around Labyrinthos in order to discover the secret project that her parents were hiding from the public at large.

Tagged by: @eriyu @paintedscales @elliewiltarwyn @amalthea-felsblood and @zerelth Thank you all so much for thinking of me!! I apologize for taking so long in responding! 🥰

Tagging: @meepsthemiqo @traveler-of-light @reikatsukihana @mimble-sparklepudding @faerieearthangel and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged yet that would like to fill this out! Please tag me so I can read about your OCs!! 💖

[fate-bound-in-crystal]

now does ziero chop all his hair off upon settling into the first?

is it bc his current hair clips with the glamour I want him in and it bothers me? quite possibly

do i think he'd still look hot as heck with the short hair? absolutely

[sparrowsong-7]

Character Dump Time!

Figured I'd keep an up to date primer on all my OCs, since some of their details have changed.

(Updated as of 9/26/2024)

Ayami Ami (formerly Ayami Tsukimori)

Age: 22 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Trans Woman

Jobs: Black Mage, Red Mage, Summoner, Pictomancer, Reaper, Samurai

Born as an Au Ra to the Tsukimori Family, Ayami had a rather rough childhood, something that reached a head when she ran away from her home at the tender age of 11. Her lonesome journey took her to Ul'Dah, where she'd live on the streets until Cocobuki of the Thaumaturge's Guild took pity on the girl, bringing her inside and changing her life forever. Eventually she would hear the call of adventure and set out with her best friend Mel in search of glory.

Throughout her journey, Ayami has gone from a meek, unassuming adventure to a veritable force of nature. She would also transform from an awkward Au Ra to a confident Lalafell thanks to a rather potent Fantasia. Rather than seeking fame and fortune, Ayami instead used her new form to fake her death, leading the world to believe that Ayami Tsukimori perished during the Final Days.

Now going by the name Ayami Ami, she wanders where her heart may take her, taking in the sights and knowledge that she stumbles across.

Memello Mello

Age: 25 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Cis Woman

Jobs: Machinist, Gunbreaker, Dark Knight

A Sharlayan runaway, Memello (often simply Mel) grew up as a magitek prodigy in a family that had no care for the machines. In a fit of desperation, frustration, and fear Mel stole as many supplies and gadgets as she could from a gleaner store house and caught the quickest boat to Eorzea, hoping to start a new life using her skills. While Mel had nothing to her name her prowess made waves that would soon reach the ears of one Cid Garlond, who would quickly offer the young girl a job at the Garlond Ironworks.

She would eventually cross paths with Ayami Tsukimori, irrevocably changing the course of both their lives. Some years later, they would set out together in search of adventure, hoping to strike it big. What they never expected was to be recruited to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, eventually becoming Warriors of Light.

Unfortunately, after Zenos took her leg and her confidence in their climactic battle at the edge of existence, Mel was left unable to continue her adventuring. This, followed by the loss of her love Crescent, Mel spiraled into a deep depression, one that she had only recently recovered from.

Crescent Sparrowsong

Age: 31 (?)

Pronouns: They/them

Gender: Non-Binary

Jobs: Reaper, Paladin

Born to the Seventh Epopt of Troia 31 years before the Flood of Darkness, Crescent was seen as an enigma by their people. Eschewing from the traditional norms of Troian society, Crescent instead took up the blade, spending their life training to one day lead Troia's military. That day eventually came, and with it the Contramemoria...

When the dust had settled and the world was consumed, Crescent took to floating aimlessly in the abyss the their world, their memories slowly fading until one day they stumbled upon a void gate with a voice that beckoned them forward; Hear, Feel, Think

Crescent would find themself in the snows of Coerthas, body formed back into its original shape. From there, they would attempt to pick up the pieces and figure out just where they were and how they wound up here.

L'vinia "Fay"

Age: 1500+

Pronouns: It/Its

Gender: Ungendered (Doll)

Jobs: Machinist*

*L'vinia doesn't fall under the standard job umbrella, drifting closer to being a gunslinger than a machinist.

Dormant for over 1500 years, L'vinia was discovered by an expedition team in the ruins of a Amdapori fringe town just on the outskirts of the Twelves Wood. Its dormant body transferred hands countless time as a curiosity before winding up in the hands of the Seedseers of Gridania. There it would remain until its body came into direct contact with Ayami, stirring L'vinia to life once more.

Once obedient to a fault, L'vinia was freed from the enchantment placed upon it by its former master with the help of Ayami and Cait Sith. Now truly free for the first time in its life, L'vinia chose to steal a Manacutter and fly off to parts unknown, leaving only a note begging its former friends not to follow. Where it's been all this time is a mystery to everyone, though talk has been spreading in Shaaloani of an unkillable gunman who bears a striking resemblance to the wayward Doll...

Corin "Fay"

Age: 27

Pronouns: She/They

Gender: Intersex Woman

Jobs: White Mage, Pictomancer

An orphan left for dead by the mages of Mhach, Corin was found by the enigmatic Lady Fay and brought in to study the arts of White Magic in kingdom of Amdapor. There, she wiled away the hours, growing closer with her fellow apprentice L'Vinia. All seemed right with the world.

But then Mhach attacked, sending legions of voidsent to attack Amdapor Keep during what would one day be called the War of the Magi. Panicked and afraid, Corin was shepherded along by Lady Fay into being the centerpiece of a ritual drawn up to fling her through time. Unfortunately, the ritual put Corin into a half stasis, locking her in the rift until the appropriate point in time had been reached. Now over 1500 years late, Corin awakes in a bed in Mel's cottage, bereft of memories.

[astrology-bf]

An Essay in Idleness

(CW: Endwalker and Dawntrail Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Deadnaming, Explicit Sexual Content, Cactus Piss)

The first meeting between a certain gleaner and the Warrior of Light in Labyrinthos hadn’t been the brightest start to what was now (probably) a close friendship, but in all fairness Erenville had been pushed to his limits by being overworked along with every other gleaner, and Ifan was the sort of man the Viera - Shatona, rather, as he was called in his homeland of Tural - generally disliked: too clever and too slick by half, and nosy but not obvious about it. Erenville expected trouble when the blue-eyed Hyur had approached him, and got about what he expected.

That he’d offered his assistance with ulterior motives hadn’t helped, however privately funny Erenville had found Ifan and the Leveilleurs doing a bad job of pretending to be frogs, but it was offset by Ifan being friendly and the fact that his intent and that of the other Scions of the Seventh Dawn was ultimately to help. He’d regretted showing them a way further down into Labyrinthos when he’d heard that they’d been apprehended, though apparently nothing came of it - Fourchenalt Leveilleur and the Warrior of Light had a discussion by themselves, and then the Scions were taken up to face the Forum where the matter was quite promptly dropped. So he hadn’t given it more thought, until Ifan and his friends ended up saving the star.

Erenville had visited the Warrior of Light while he recovered from the events of Ultima Thule, and was admittedly quite caught off guard by Ifan’s disability: barely mobile, unable to use magic, struggling for weeks with physical and arcane therapy as he fought to recover with the help of G’raha, Krile, and the finest healers the Forum could provide. Ifan had seemed pleased to see him, however, and asked if his workload and that of the other gleaners was lighter now - which had made Erenville roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of Ifan’s selflessness, but also made him smile a little that the man did genuinely want to help, not just ply him for favors. He’d also asked if Erenville would like to spend some time together, but the latter had declined as was his habit. Though he was caught off guard when Ifan then asked if it was alright to leave him letters to pick up between assignments, once the magician had full use of his manual dexterity. Not having precedent, Erenville had hesitated but agreed. And so the correspondence started.

Returning one day from a successful gleaning run around Dravania, Erenville had been surprised to find a letter from the Warrior of Light awaiting him at the postmoogle, having quite forgotten the request. Nothing too involved, just a hello and some curiosity as to if Erenville had seen anything interesting out on his latest glean. He’d thought about it, then wrote an honest reply before posting it: he’d been quite curious about Loth ast Gnath, but had been unable to get a better look due to the danger. He hadn’t quite expected a reply, much less that Ifan said that he’d been there several times and would be happy to indulge his curiosity. And Erenville was curious, so after some hesitation he penned the next letter in what became a semi-regular exchange.

As the gleaner’s long and often distant assignments meant Ifan was usually preoccupied when they were both in Sharlayan, they rarely had the chance to meet again: nonetheless, the tone their correspondence took became more friendly to the point that Erenville got a good sense of Ifan’s progress in recovery, and while Erenville rarely volunteered anything personal he nonetheless appreciated Ifan’s only occasional reminders that he was open to the gleaner speaking of his feelings, if he was comfortable. So he indulged occasionally, telling Ifan how he felt - if he was tired, or in good humor, not really certain why he didn’t want Ifan to worry overmuch but figuring there was small harm in sharing.

Introducing Ifan to Wuk Lamat was a mistake, at least to Erenville. They immediately took a liking to each other in a way that brought out Lamaty’i’s most boisterous aspects, while Ifan found himself enamored of the X’braal’s eagerness and obvious gold heart. It didn’t help that Ifan liked to show off, and Lamaty’i was quite easily impressed: a magician and his ax-wielding assistant, that was the image in Erenville’s head. Irritating in the way only good friends could irritate a man. And Ifan’s involvement with Tural’s affairs gave the Shatona pause, as the Warrior of Light was a man that had the sort of weight that wouldn’t just unbalance things, but ran the risk of snapping the scales entirely - yet Ifan’s cognizance of that ended up pleasing him, as the magician held back save when the situation required it. 

They’d also gotten much more opportunity to get to know each other, both on the voyage to Tuliyollal and during the Rite of Succession. Absent overwork and an impending apocalypse, Ifan’s slickness and Erenville’s acerbity had developed into respectful banter. Ifan would tease lightly and Erenville would roll his eyes, or the Shatona would make some sly comment and the Hyur would would just grin at him and twist his words - in all cases, only needling in ways they knew the other man could handle. Ifan held back with Erenville where he didn’t with people like Wuk Lamat or even Alphinaud, knowing that the man was less comfortable with it. And Erenville appreciated Ifan valuing his comfort, as he did the fact Ifan didn’t push him regarding the mission he’d been given by his mother: he supported him whether he doubted or believed, and said he simply wanted Erenville to find the answers that he sought. 

After Wuk Lamat managed to triumph in the Rite and find the Golden City, becoming Dawnservant and then inviting Koana to join her as a collegial two-headed successor of Gulool Ja Ja, Erenville had been less hesitant than he would otherwise have been when it came to taking a traveling companion. Part of why he liked his job was that it afforded him his privacy, and most people were too nosy or too inconsiderate to hold back from asking questions - not Ifan, though, and Erenville had admittedly been a little curious as to what a road trip with the Warrior of Light might look light absent all his friends.

Casual. Ifan treated the whole affair as downtime for both him and Erenville, letting the latter take the lead and just enjoying his company and the novelty of Shaaloani. It hadn’t been as smooth as the Shatona had expected, with recent trouble in the region disrupting trade and travel, but it was enjoyable enough for both of them. Erenville had talked at length about the local geography and culture to Ifan’s great interest, Ifan ogled Sherriff Kemakka quite blatantly to the extent that Erenville had facepalmed, and all in all despite the snags in what should have been a simple trip to Yyasulani to see Cahcuia it ended up being relatively fun. For the most part.

Erenville expected that Ifan would learn his birth name at some point, having barely cut off Gulool Ja Ja before he’d uttered it. Sadly, Iyaate had less consideration for Erenville’s wishes and had used it openly despite the gleaner’s manifest annoyance. Ifan had glanced at him, but then smiled and shrugged before proceeding to call him what he always had, even when Iyaate referred to Erenville as otherwise. And it hadn’t come up again between them: Ifan accepted Erenville’s explanation that he changed his name to fit in better with Viera in the east, and that was that.

Their journey was brought to an unexpected halt by the discovery that train service to Yyasulani was disrupted by recent tremors, but fortune had provided them a path ahead in that the people at Shaaloani Station were quite eager for assistance and ready to direct Ifan and Erenville as to what they might do to expedite restoring service. They’d even offered lodgings at Sheshenewezi Springs, which was indeed good compensation as nearly every hostelry and inn within Shaaloani was booked up with people waiting for the train, but upon arriving at the lodge in question they’d discovered that the room was quite small, with just one bed. 

Ifan had quite generously offered the room to Erenville and said that he’d be fine with borrowing the gleaner’s tent, and as much as the prospect of making the Warrior of Light have to rough it while he enjoyed a bed appealed to Erenville’s more devious side, he was comfortable enough with Ifan that he’d suggested that they share the room instead, as they were both adults. And that was where they took their rest at present.

It was an unpleasant night: cloudless, but Menphina’s waxing crescent and the stars were both obscured by a dust storm that was kicked up by a foul northerly from Yyasulani as it gusted southwards over Shaaloani’s ruddy cliffs and mesas. The wind was making quite a racket as it blasted through Sheshenewazi Springs, and only those that absolutely had be to were outdoors, while all others were inside either sleeping or drinking - which was what the Warrior of Light and his companion were doing now. Exactly what they were imbibing was a mystery, as the bottle had no label and had been gifted to them by a Highlander at Shaaloani’s railroad company, though Ifan said it reminded him of a beverage that in Ul’dah was known as ‘cactus piss’.

The bottle of the mystery beverage sat on the sideboard as the pair lay on the bed, still clothed but lacking their outermost layers and shoes, conversing as they interspersed discussion with the occasional shot. Ifan’s cheeks were flushed a ruddy bronze, while the Shatona’s cheeks had darkened slightly and his ears looked quite relaxed. Both were more than tipsy at this point, but not racing to get plastered - just finishing the bottle at a steady pace, until one of them threw in the towel and went to bed.

“I’m curious…” Erenville began, pouring himself a shot before he handed Ifan the bottle. “About what you and Fourchenalt discussed, if the rumors are true.” he asked before he threw the mystery beverage back.

“Hm? Oh… I take it you mean that little chat in Labyrinthos? ” Ifan chuckled lazily and shook his head. “I blackmailed him.” he stated.

The Shatona looked at Ifan sharply, one eyebrow and both ears raised. “Dare I ask with what?” he asked, giving a disbelieving scoff.

Ifan snorted through his nose as he poured another shot before handing the bottle back. “I figured out the Forum’s vanishing act with their memories and threatened to make an issue of it if he didn’t back down. I think that’s partly why Montichaigne approached me, Alisaie, and Alphinaud the way he did - giving me a way to talk about it with them without technically violating my agreement with Fourchenalt. Or maybe Fourchenalt asked him to. That man does love his games.” he snickered. Then he paused, and glanced at Erenville. “Sorry for not telling you. I know how frustrated the Forum’s demands were making you.” he added with a sheepish twisting of his lips.

Erenville absorbed this information in silence, then gave a faintly impressed huff. He still rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You continue to prove me right, friend.” he stated.

“Regarding?” hummed Ifan as he looked up and over at the Shatona with a lazy smile.

“My first impression of you: trouble.” replied Erenville with a sage nod, and a slight smirk. 

Ifan chortled and magicked the bottle over to himself so he could pour another shot, before handing it back to the Shatona. 

Erenville paused one he took the bottle, however, smirk fading into a much softer look. “You have always been concerned for the gleaners. I don’t begrudge you necessary secrecy.” he said, nodding again.

“Glad to hear that. I appreciate you giving me a chance.” he replied, warmly.

Erenville returned the smile for just a moment, then looked Ifan up and down. He pursed his lips as his head turned forward, gold eyes slightly glazed with inebriation as he stared into space before he took another shot. The he let out a breath with a slight rasp, and glanced at Ifan sidelong with one narrowed eye. “You have not asked about my name.” he stated, bluntly.

The Hyur blinked as Erenville spoke, raising an eyebrow and glancing at him sedately. Then he smirked and shook his head quite drunkenly. “You told me why you changed it. You want to be called Erenville, then you’re Erenville.” he replied, shifting where he reclined at the Shatona’s side. He raised his hand to gesture, but then blinked as he realized he may be a little too tipsy to not fumble the spell - so he grunted as he reached across the gleaner for the bottle.

Erenville leaned back so Ifan could retrieve it, but continued looking at him. He hummed as his ears brushed back. “I would have expected you to tease me for it.” he observed.

Ifan glanced back at him, then shook his head. “You seemed annoyed when Gulool Ja Ja tried to call you something else. I like annoying you, but not like that.” he said, pouring another shot and throwing it back before he corked the bottle and reached over to set it aside again. “In any case… I’d rather get to know the real you, if he’s called Erenville. If you decide on something else, I’ll call you that. You’re my friend, not my fucking familiar.” The magician finished with a nod, heedless of the crassness of his answer.

The Shatona looked at Ifan again, though his expression was much softer. He pouted for a moment as he blinked and looked away, then his lips twisted as he seemed to consider something. 

Ifan glanced at him when no answer came, but seeing the gleaner in thought he simply smiled and settled back to revel in the buzz as the dust storm howled outside. 

At length, Erenville clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You prefer the company of men.” he more stated than asked.

“No. I am entirely chaste.” answered Ifan sarcastically with a snorting laugh. Then he glanced at Erenville, and nodded to give him a more honest answer. “I thought it was obvious.” he added with a lazy grin and an admonishing shake of his head.

Erenville looked back at Ifan with a little frown, seeming hesitant. “That includes all men?” he asked, ears splaying slightly in an inadvertent display of vulnerability.

Ifan raised an eyebrow, seeming confused. He shrugged. “Not every man, but I’ll give most a chance.” he answered. Then he looked at Erenville with a teasing smirk. “Why? Interested?” he cooed. 

He blinked, however, when the answer wasn’t a denial. Erenville just looked away and stared ahead. He sucked on his tongue, then reached for the bottle and took another shot to steel himself. “...I may not be what you are used to.” he stated.

“I’m flexible, as far as giving or receiving.” replied Ifan, eyebrow still raised and a frown forming on his face. “Or do you mean being with Viera? You wouldn’t be my first.” he asked.

Erenville shook his head. He didn’t answer, his frown deepening as he felt Ifan’s eyes on him. Then he looked back at him quite pointedly, then glanced at his own groin for just a moment before he looked away.

Ifan’s own frown deepened in confusion as his drink-sodden brain tried to make sense of what the Shatona was implying. It took him quite a while, but then his frown immediately faded as he blinked in realization. He stared at Erenville for just a moment… Then smiled very, very widely. Erenville jolted slightly as he felt the Hyur roll over until Ifan’s chin was resting on his stomach, wine-dark eyes gazing up at him with quite an interested gleam. He hummed, then nodded. “You wouldn’t be my first of that kind of man, either.” he answered.

One of Erenville’s eyebrows rose, as did one ear. Clearly quite curious.

The Hyur smirked at him as his hand came up so he could dance his fingers in the fabric of the gleaner’s shirt. “My first bedpartner was such a man. If I am anything close to considerate as a lover, I owe it to him setting a good example.” he explained. Then he hummed again, and grinned. “So if you’re asking me if I would prefer your company, the answer is a resounding yes. Pretty men like you deserve good company.” he added with a flirtatious wink.

The gleaner rolled his eyes and shook his head before he poured another shot and threw it back. Then he inhaled through his nose as his ears flattened for a moment, and he gazed down at Ifan pointedly as his legs shifted apart slightly. That was all the invitation given.

Ifan didn’t heed it right away, his grin settling to a more serious smirk. “...We are pretty drunk.” he stated with a slow nod.

Erenville considered it, then nodded. “Then we should make the most of it.” he said, looking down at Ifan firmly.

The Warrior of Light gazed up into the gleaner’s eyes, giving the latter a few moments to back out. Then he smiled, and gave a nod. “Happily, Erenville. It’ll be our little secret.” he hummed, fingers reaching for the laces of Erenville’s breeches as he lazily undid them. 

Erenville took in a breath to steel himself, then poured another shot. He didn’t throw it back, however, watching Ifan as the Hyur slid his breeches down. There was a curl of anxiousness within his gut, but it faded at the delighted hum from Ifan’s lips - to say nothing of the feel of them upon him. He threw the shot back and swallowed as the magician pressed his mouth between his legs, his ash-brown beard proving quite textured as the man pulled Erenville’s breeches down and off entirely so he could have full access. 

A pleasured huff left the Shatona’s lips as his head leaned back against the wall, ears splaying flat as Ifan’s hands slid under his thighs to push them up over his shoulders so Erenville could lay back and enjoy it. And he did enjoy it: the dark flush across his cheeks had deepened further, and his chest rose and fell with ever-growing depth as his ears twitched in response to the rather obscene noises the Hyur made. He wasn’t lying - he knew his way around, and Erenville reached down to fist his fingers in his hair to force him deeper when he felt his tongue start digging. His head already swimming from the alcohol, it was quite easy to just lose himself: breathing turning to panting as he started sweating, eventually shifting up so he could shed his shirt and grind the Warrior of Light into his groin.

Ifan, for his part, was completely lost within his task: eyes either half-lidded or completely closed, his practice taking on a sloppy edge thanks to the alcohol in a way that made the gleaner shudder, and his fingers gripped Erenville’s thighs tightly as he tried not to pass out from both the alcohol and lack of breath that Erenville’s insistent hands were causing. But the way the Warrior of Light was grinding his own face down indicated that he found no reason for complaint. 

Erenville bit his lower lip for just a moment, then huffed through his teeth. One arm came up to brace above his head, and he adjusted his hips slightly to encourage Ifan to keep hitting the right spot. Then he gave a rough and ragged set of gasps, and panted as he shuddered violently. Ifan chased him as he tried to pull away, hands gripping the gleaner’s thighs as he ground his mouth and beard against him to prolong his peak and leave Erenville shuddering and gasping.

Ifan chuckled wetly as he pulled back, but then gave a yelp as he was grabbed, pulled up, and tossed onto his back. Before he could protest, the other man had climbed atop him with his back turned towards Ifan, then began to pull at the laces of the magician’s breeches. He looked back at Ifan, giving him an annoyed but still quite lustful look as his tufted tail flicked. “You have no objections, I trust?’ he huffed, not pausing as he shoved the Hyur’s breeches down.

The Warrior of Light blinked up at Erenville, then gave an incredulous but happy chuckle and a slight cock of his head. “Do you mind if I touch?” he responded.

Erenville made quite a show of considering it, then gave a dismissive nod: though the pleased breath he gave when Ifan’s hands slid up and down his sides betrayed both his enjoyment and relief. He shifted forward, then slid himself against Ifan in a slow and languid grind that drew a pleased curse and a gasp from the magician. Once satisfied that things were slick enough, the Shatona shifted up and grasped the Hyur and adjusted him before he sank down slowly, joining Ifan in letting out a very ragged groan.

Ifan’s hands remained on Erenville’s waist, clearly understanding that the reins were in the gleaner’s hands. He wasn’t left wondering as to the desired pace for long, however, as Erenville seemed quite intent on getting his full use of the Hyur: the Warrior of Light was more holding on as the Shatona rode him, tail and ears both twitching and his teeth set in a determined grit while his eyes were glazed in sheer relief. 

Given how much he’d drank, Ifan’s endurance wasn’t quite as good as normal: but he held off for Erenville’s sake, trying to focus more on his other senses: how the gleaner looked, smelled, and sounded, as well as felt under his hands. As his lips parted to warn Erenville that he was close, however, he gasped as the Shatona pulled off and turned around before mounting him once more, this time facing him. Looking right at him, those gold eyes daring him to say something. So he did.

“Erenville.” he gasped.

The gleaner glared at him appreciatively, and pulled him up and rewarded him with a deep and rather messy kiss that was the mirror of the grinding of Erenville’s hips against Ifan’s. Then he reached for Ifan’s undershirt and pulled it up and off before he straightened up, and huffed happily as Ifan’s arms embraced him. He threaded his own arms around the magician’s shoulders and then resumed his former pace as he edged them to completion, smirking faintly in the knowledge that Ifan would come first.

As could be expected, however, Ifan cheated. One arm left the Shatona’s back as the Hyur’s hand slid down his stomach, and before Erenville had registered the feeling of the magician’s thumb against him he was driven to his peak. He convulsed, gritting his teeth and snarling as he held Ifan tightly, grinding himself down into the Hyur’s lap and huffing between groans. Ifan followed him soon after, jamming his hips up sharply before the arm around the gleaner’s waist was helping force him down as Ifan cursed loudly and gnawed at his chest, his ash-brown hair plastering to both his brazen forehead and Erenville’s much darker skin from both their sweat.

They remained like that as they climbed down, shuddering and panting. Ifan let out another huff, and then a gasp as he was tipped back by Erenville’s hand upon his chest. The gleaner then dismounted him, heedless of the mess on either of their laps, and returned to where he had lain previously at Ifan’s side. He made no move to put his pants back on, and poured both Ifan and himself another shot.

Ifan eyed him, then gave a weary scoff. “Decent?” he slurred, eyeing Erenville lazily as he accepted the shot. It took him a great deal of mental energy to stop his hands from trembling.

Erenville glanced over at Ifan as he set the bottle down. “About what I expected of you, friend.” he answered noncommittally, though he gave the Hyur an appreciative and quite pleased smirk as he raised the shot to Ifan in a toast.

Ifan grinned at him. “Anytime.” he chuckled, before he slowly shifted up to sit by Erenville again, mirroring their previous posture save that they lacked clothes and hadn’t made a move to clean the mess they’d made. He hummed contentedly with a small and friendly nudge of his bicep against the other man’s. Then he gave a languid and lazy smile, and raised his own shot glass to meet Erenville’s with a small clink. “Cheers.”

[cloudofdarkness]

Attack on @penultimania !!

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 2. Horizon

Characters: V'anille Tia, Wuk Lamat, Erenville, G'raha Tia, U'rahn Nuhn, Koana Expansion: Dawntrail Rating: T Notes: V'anille finds out just how far he'll go to be reunited with Koana

V’anille watched quietly as ships passed one another in the Sharlayan Harbor, the grey seas coming up to the Thaliak Stoa to spray its steps with its salty mist. In his grasp he held onto a red strip of fabric, holding it tightly to his chest as he listened to the crashing waves before looking back toward Old Sharlayan, the only home he’d ever known, and then on to Hrothgar woman being led about by one of the Warriors of Light.

Sighing he pocketed the red fabric then turned to wander away, up past the Last Stand where he regularly shared meals with his family, briefly looking over his shoulder as a seated party grew rancorous with laughter, the Hrothgar among them. A flash of a memory hit him; his parents smiles, gifts on the table, not for him, but for another beside him. He watched the other’s mouth move, eyes on his lips but he couldn’t remember what was said. Shaking it off, he pressed on back toward the Studium.

He passed familiar faces, people he’d grown up with, worked beside, his parent’s colleagues, his own teachers, and those that sought to learn from him. Without the uncertainty of the future looming over them any longer, it seemed most were content to return to the halcyon days of studying. And yet, he didn’t seem to find much comfort in his return to work as everyone else had. 

Perhaps that he’d little to offer when it had come when the End of Days loomed before them. He was no engineer like his mother, and the only chemistry he’d cared to learn from his father had been to learn how to make his own paints. While the two of them couldn’t be more proud of their son, without that missing person around he felt less connected to them. He’d become an adopted son, interested in all things related to Sharlayan progress and technology. The perfect partner for V’anille, who had felt more connected to his loving parents than ever before with this bridge of interest between them.

And then he returned home, leaving little more in his wake than an old ascot and a letter promising he’d write again and explain everything in time. Letters did come, from somewhere far across the sea. Requests for resources mostly that lacked the longing V’anille felt in his heart,  until the last lines which offered riddles to what he might be up to and hoping to be reunited. When he’d been bade to get into contact with a particular pair of Scions, all was made clear as it had become increasingly hard to focus on anything else aside from the sea. Somewhere far beyond where they sky met the sea, he was building toward a life for them…

V’anille let out a nervous breath, finding himself facing toward the ocean again, feet swiftly carrying him back down the marbled pathways toward the Annex and down the stairs toward the Last Stand. His heart raced as he approached the table mixed with Scions, a Gleaner, and the Hrothgar who took notice of him immediately as he stopped beside her.

“Hello there,” she said, brushing sweat off her brow.

“Are you…Are you Wuk Lamat,” V’anille asked, swallowing his nerves.

“What did you do now,” the Gleaner sighed, pinching his brow.

Wuk Lamat tilted her head, “Do I know you?”

“No. Well, perhaps maybe of me. You see…I am…I am friends with…,” he felt himself start, looking at her then to her confused dinner companions. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Woah! Hold on there friend! Come! Sit! There’s plenty of this large bird we hunted to go around,” Wuk Lamat offered.

V’anille hesitated but accepted the offer, taking a seat with the group before shyly playing the one of the tassels on his jacket. “Thank you…,” V’anille responded, lowering his ears.

Wuk Lamat beamed then offered her plate to V’anille before looking around the table. “So then. You seem to know my name. My friend next to me here is Erenville and across is his boyfriend U’rahn who you might know better as a Warrior of Light!”

“Lamaty’i please,” Erenville groaned under his breath as U’rahn waved.

Wuk Lamat laughed then pointed toward G’raha. “And that is the Scion G’raha Tia, though you probably knew of him as well. So then, what is yours friend?”

V’anille straightened up then let his gaze meet Wuk Lamat’s. “I am a friend of your brother’s. V’anille Tia.”

Wuk Lamat’s eyes widened for a moment, jaw opening briefly. “You wrote those letters to him! And helped make his wrist chronometer! It is good to meet you,” she let out before reaching over to shake V’anille’s hand. “I am very sorry if my brother has not written to you lately. We are very busy at home with the coming Rite of Succession, you see. He gets very intensely focused you see.”

V’anille tilted his head slightly. “Rite of Succession? Is that why he reached out for aid?”

Wuk Lamat blinked, “Aid? Did he ask you for help for the Rite?”

“Huh? No. Not me…I barely understand what is going on with him these days and his letters are all riddles when they are not requests. What do you mean ‘Rite of Succession?’”

V’anille listened quietly as Wuk Lamat explained, the pieces of the little bits Koana had given of himself being woven together to give him a more complete understanding of the man he’d fallen for. After she was finished, he lowered his head. “So he is a prince…”

“I suppose that is an accurate description, yes,” Erenville sighed, sliding a glass of milk over to U’rahn after watching the Warrior of Light take a bite of a rather spicy dish.

Wuk Lamat nodded, “If you say so! He’s always just been Koana to me. Hey! I know! Why don’t you come with us back to Tuliyollal! I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you and appreciate you there to cheer him on during the Rite. But don’t get his hopes too high, cause I’m going to beat him and become the Dawnservant myself!”

V”anille stayed silent for a moment, turning to look out toward the sea. His hand rose against his chest, feeling his heart race under it as it called out to Koana beyond where he could see. Beyond where he’d ever dreamt the other could possibly be. “I don’t want to become a distraction if he will be occupied. And inviting myself along would be…”

“Nonsense! He will definitely be happy to see a friend from Sharlayan. He loves Sharlayan. And you are not inviting yourself, I’m inviting you as my guest and new friend!”

V’anille looked back at Wuk Lamat in time for her to nearly topple him out of his chair as she went to put her hand on his shoulder with a laugh. His head spun, unable to catch more than a thought as conversation picked up around him again. Only the waves reached his senses, their ebbing calling to him, beckoning him toward adventure.