in ffxiv, dragons can sense other dragons, and mortals can train themselves to "see" and feel other mortals' aether. there must only ever be a few people at a time in all of coerthas, much less inside ishgard, that can do both, and well. those who might, dragoons and blood-changed heretics, have until recently spent their lives racing towards death or dragonhood. no one knew . . .
which is why estinien is. a bit surprised. a little unnerved. when he wakes up in ishgard after the final steps of faith and something is . . . different about everyone in the city. it's very slight and takes him a long time to even try to describe. like there's a breath of dragon's aether just slightly layered in between their eyes and their mortal soul, but in ways not physical. it's neither mortal aether nor dragon aether. and it's so stretched and thin it should break and yet it's inexplicably strong.
it should not be familiar to him in his mortal shell but it is. nidhogg's memories and estinien's own acknowledgement of the truth of the war (that they do not deserve her) both pull against making the assumption but eventually he has to admit-
ishgard is steeped in ratatoskr's aether.
it gathers strongest in teachers and bards and parents nurturing children. it croons grief, and yes, anger, over the dragoon training grounds but also rejoiced when they drove back dragons that would kill the dragonets children of the nest city. it settles into warm bellies with the bite of fresh bread and twines around thumbs as if amazed. it keens hardest at betrayal and abandoned children. if an orphan in the brume is very tired and lonely or afraid as they fall asleep, they might hear a moment of a lullaby from a voice that isn't real, in a language that doesn't exist on hydaelyn or the dragonstar, but they understand all the same. it delights over the choir in st reymanaud's cathedral and dances over the air let out from the pipe organ. it coils around the soft skin of the elderly on a deathbed and gives what comfort it can for a people doomed to mortality. it is awestruck with every live birth, so painful, so triumphant, so weirdly . . . mammalian.
it is not really her. more like the echo of an echo. nidhogg expected the ascians to try some terrible scheme with her memory, as they had with tiamat and bahamut, but they didn't. perhaps the villains knew the first brood would never fall for that again. no matter how badly he missed her he knew she wouldn't want her life extended unnaturally if her eyes and body were gone. yet midgardsormr and his brood are not mortal, and something of choice remains for them after death. to dissipate into the aetherial sea? or, like midgardsormr resting in the lake, to linger for some watchful purpose after death?
estinien books it the hell out of ishgard with a lot of flowers. he's got a lot of graves to see, and he doesnt plan on stopping until he reaches sohr khai
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If a ttrpg has options for the player characters to be furries, they will succeed. Homebrew can solve any problem, but baked in RAW furry rules are your ticket to fame.
Cyberpunk: Absolute horseshit no one is running around as one those handsome little robot sergal fuckers
Lancer: Deergirl piloting a mech, fuck with me
Monster of the Week: Become Cryptid
DnD: Pirate all of their content, become tabaxi, come aarakocra, become harengon, become leonin
Monopoly: play it in your fursuit you had to pass go fifteen fucking times to afford I guess
SO fucking true. My enjoyment of a setting is hands in hands with how many weird lil fellas there are running around. Like one of my sonas is a kobold I'm not immune to furrybait ttrpgs
Also can you actually play as a deergirl in Lancer because uhhh uhmmm 👉👈
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I’ve never played sonic games so as I keep up with like four separate playthroughs of sonic frontiers I genuinely can’t grasp how people see that fast
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