#i sort of wanted her to have a 'viera face' so she could look a bit more like her azem

[astralflows]

who the fuck gave her a blaster

[tallbluelady]

Your OC, Rowan, is alone in a supposedly haunted building or abandoned ruin.

Rowan had been in an odd mood since she overheard Y'shtola and Urianger's conversation about her aether. That Urianger was hiding aught from her but sought to court her... Well, the ruins surrounding Fannow had called to her to explore just then. Unfortunately, their so-called ally had to taunt her newly improving skills in magic after she cut her hand. She was certain he was left behind, but her skin was still crawling from meeting Emet-Selch. She was a bit surprised that Lahabrea hadn't caused as much irritation while he possessed Thancred, because she did remember Nabriales doing so. Mayhap the Ascians could cloak their aether when they possessed someone. I wonder what Urianger thinks about that...

She sighed at that thought. Despite the fact that he was lying to her, at least by omission, Rowan still felt drawn to Urianger. He sought to be her refuge during this time and with his mere presence and gentle words he was. And whenever he soothed the young Minfilia, Rowan felt her heart melt. There was plenty to want.

If you looked past the secrets.

She supposed there was an irony that the man she trusted the least was being the most forthright with information about the state of her soul. He created the Garlean Empire, and revels in it. Forthrightness means nothing in the face of that.

Rowan then tilted her head. There was a soft hum under the general cacophony of the forest. She pushed a curtain of vines and the hum got louder. She gasped when she saw a figure laid out on a bed of sorts. She tapped on a few tiles with her rapier first - though the weapon was expensive, it would be replaceable - and found nothing strange there. After giving the room a once over for any Ronkan Owls and finding none, she tossed a stone near the bed to see if the occupant would awaken before stepping closer to them. With the figure remaining immobile, Rowan approached.

Twas a male figure, with Viera - Viis, here - features and besides the lime green paint on his face, he was deathly, wickedly white. He was surrounded by dried flowers and small trinkets. Offerings?

"Dead, I hope. Poor bastard looks like he was on the brink of turning," Ardbert said, appearing next to Rowan.

"Tis almost as if someone put him in stasis to prevent that from happening..." she murmured, thinking back to Alexander. She pulled back her hand at that thought.

"Scared to touch the dead, hero?" Emet-Selch drawled from the doorway.

Rowan saw Ardbert give a snarl that she wanted to give the Ascian. She rolled her eyes. "I'm using an onze of caution, Ascian. There could be any number of enchantments on the figure. I only have my one body to inhabit, and I intend to keep it whole."

Emet-Selch raised an eyebrow and sauntered closer. Rowan felt her hackles raise and maneuvered so that he wasn't blocking the doorway. "From what you're doing with the Lightwardens, I'd say that you're doing a rather poor job of it. Or are you saving yourself to be a proper sacrifice?"

"What else is there to be done? I don't see you taking upon the Lightwarden's aether, though mayhap it would do you some good to struggle."

"The defeat of the Lightwardens and the salvation of this world is your trial, hero. I may offer aid, but the heavy lifting is left to you and yours. If you cannot solve that problem on your own, then what use are you to solving mine?"

"I suppose you'll have your way no matter the outcome. You either get a reliable ally, or this shard collapses into a proper calamity." Rowan shook her head. "Anyroad, I've enough of you for the day. I'll return to the others so you don't feel so comfortable bothering me. After I've paid my respects."

With that, she knelt at the dais of the figure and placed a few pressed blossoms she kept in her pack. Though it never felt as if it was enough, she whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods the Viis had in life. Then she felt the rush of an Echo vision.

*   *   *

This wasn't a typical vision, Rowan realized, as she felt she had control of herself. The Viis man tilted his head, studying her. He had dark mahogany skin and black hair in life. And green eyes that matched his face paint.

"Why do you feel so familiar?" he asked in the accent of the Fannow villagers.

Rowan shrugged. "I'm close to you in the waking world."

The man's ears twitched. "There's another familiar presence... and then a putrid one."

"Aye, that would describe my companions at the moment... But who are you? Are you still alive?" Rowan asked.

"They called me Moth Orchid when I was still walking. Though my soul hasn't returned to the lifestream, I can't claim to be one of the living."

She gave a sad hum and shook her head.

"I'll have to release you from this state - you can't be safe with Emet-Selch nearby."

"How do you know it's him?" she asked.

"I met him! A lover of mine became infatuated with him and his secrets. But he cannot be trusted. Even if he says that he wants to work with you, it's... it's not truly you he wants. It's a ghost, a shade he seeks."

Rowan nodded. "Thank you for the clarity. I need every clue I can get to deal with him."

Moth Orchid nodded back. "Anything for a fellow adventurer, Rowan. Were there a way to do aught more than just warn you... though mayhap..."

He reached out his hand and Rowan mirrored him. There was a warmth, then another rush.

*   *   *

Rowan gasped as the world fell back into place. She was still kneeling at the dais but Moth Orchid's body was gone. A whirl of wind floated the flowers and dust, catching on the shafts of light that peeked through the ceiling of the chamber. One of her pressed blossoms settled neatly on her hand, almost as if Moth Orchid placed it there himself.

She turned, and found Ardbert was still kneeling next to her.

"Emet-Selch left as soon as you started praying. Almost as if he couldn't stand your sincerity for the moment."

"Did... did you know who that was?" Rowan asked, motioning to the empty dais.

He shook his head. "I don't think I ever saw him before the flood. And I would remember if I saw him in my listless wanderings."

"His name was Moth Orchid. He was an adventurer like you and me."

"Was he now? Just proves how harrowing this job is. As if my presence wasn't enough."

Rowan shrugged and gathered her possessions. Taking stock of herself, she felt much more at ease. What ever Moth Orchid was able to give would see her to the next step, at the very least.

She never even worried that he knew her name.

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #12 - Quarry

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: None

Summary: Aelita Tirasch finds herself between a rock and a very eager Viera geologist from Sharlayan.

Check it out below or on Ao3:

“Excuse me.”

Aelita had hardly been able to hear the voice over the scraping of the plow she was using to till the family fields. Well, family was perhaps an overstatement. They were her fields, at the very least. 

“Excuse me, miss?” 

There was the voice again, slightly louder. As she continued dragging the unwieldy tool through the earth, it occurred to her that this voice might actually be talking to her, so she paused and looked up. 

Standing in front of her was a person she'd never seen before. They were a Viera, people she'd heard tales of from her parents with rabbit-like features; they were more common in Othard, and by extension Bozja, than they were here. Their voice leaned a bit more masculine, but they also had long green hair and a slightly posh sounding accent. Not from around here, Aelita thought to herself. Like me? Or maybe some kinda academic…

“Ah, hello. Sorry to bother you while you were in the middle of something, but I wanted to ask you if you've seen something before.”

Aelita set the plow down to rest in the soil and turned to face the stranger, subconsciously wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

“Well, what is it?”

The stranger floundered for a moment; clearly they'd been expecting a ‘no’. They dug around in a pouch on their hip, causing the tools on his belt to make a musical sort of clattering against each other. The sound drew her eye to them; they looked similar to what a miner might use, though some of them appeared to have been miniaturized, likely for fine detail work.

“This!” It seemed the stranger had finally found what they’d been digging for, and they held it up to Aelita so she could take a closer look. It was a small crystal: almost transparent, save for the faintest blue tint, as if it had sat outside too long and absorbed some of the color of the sky. “It’s called celestine,” they continued. “It’s often found in geodes, which are these rounded rocks of plain external appearance. But when you break one open with a hammer, you find crystals like these inside! I’ve been studying them as a small part of my thesis, looking at the distributions of certain types of gems and minerals across Eorzea.”

“So you are a scholar,” Aelita interjected, surprised she’d guessed correctly.

“Yes! Not an Archon or anything like that, not by a long shot, but I’m currently studying at the Studium in Sharlayan.” They extended their other hand for a formal introduction. “My name’s Chrysocolla. And you are…?”

Aelita reached out for his hand with a work glove-clad one of her own. “Name’s Aelita. Aelita Tirasch. But just Aelita is fine.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aelita! Now, back to the matter of this,” they continued, once again extending the crystal for easier viewing. “Seen anything resembling this?”

Aelita thought for a moment, reflexively tapping her chin as she did, as if trying to jar a memory in her brain loose. 

“I’ve definitely seen crystals in the rock before, though I’m not sure if it’s the ‘celestian’ that you’re looking for. I think it was close to the Blind Iron Mines down the road, though you’d probably have to go talk to Broenruht if you wanna dig around there.” She pointed in the mine’s direction. “Though there could be some of those rock-things you were talking about outside the mine that would be fair game.”

While she was talking, Chrysocolla had pulled out a notebook and started making notes, which he ceremoniously snapped shut when she’d finished. “One more question for you, and… no pressure on this one.”

“...Yes?” Aelita’s curiosity was piqued, and her raised eyebrows were hardly keeping it a secret.

Chrysocolla’s ears began to twitch slightly, and they grabbed a bit of their long green hair between their fingers to fiddle with. “Would you… be willing to help out by uh… breaking some geodes open for me? You’d be compensated, of course!”

Aelita silently considered the offer, and Chrysocolla nervously tried to fill the dead air. “I just, uh… Well, you looked really strong, and…”

Aelita tried not to let the compliment go to her head, but it seemed that a smirk that she’d no doubt learned from imitating her mother had made its way onto her face. 

“Sure. I’ll do it,” she replied, stopping them mid ramble.

“Oh, thank you! It’s such a relief to find a helping hand so far away from home. And like I said before, I can give you some of my stipend–”

Aelita cut them off again. “Do you need me to get a proper sledgehammer from the house? Or can we make do with what you’ve got?” 

“If you’ve got a hammer you like to use, by all means!”

“Be back in a sec, we can talk details on the road, all right?” she called over her shoulder as she walked back to the small farmhouse.

Maybe ma and papa were right, she thought as she peeked over her shoulder to see Chrysocolla crouched down and pawing through the dirt. Maybe I can make a life here after all.

[dalmascan-requiem]

Drabbles: Taken

-------

Conversations are not Laurent's strong suit.

-------

Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: mention of alcohol

Part of FFxivWrite 2024

------

Poor Laurent lol. Also, yes, that was the inspiration for what Gale said.

This is for FFxivWrite Day 19, Taken.

"Well! Hello there."

Laurent ignores the Hyur that took the barstool next to him, assuming she was talking to someone else.

"I'm talking to you, redhead. Not like there's anyone else here."

Laurent glances over at the girl and notes that there was, in fact, no one else in the bar. "My hair's not red. It's brown. Looks red in the light."

The girl gives a short, clipped laugh. "You'll have to forgive me. The name's Ciel. And who are you?"

Why does she even want to talk to me? Gods… "Laurent."

"Interesting name." Ciel scoots closer to Laurent, a sly smile on her face. "And what are you doing here, all alone in this dingy bar?"

I just wanted a moment to myself. I can't say that though, can I? Why does this have to happ–

"Not much a talker, huh? That's okay, you're handsome enough to get away with it."

Laurent turns away from the woman, the sudden compliment making his cheeks turn red.

"You Viera are too adorable. Acting all stoic and tough but fall apart at a little compliment." Ciel inches closer to Laurent, lightly touching his forearm. "Why don't we get out of here? I'm sure I can make–"

"...taken."

"Huh?"

"I'm taken. Sorry. Need to go." Laurent suddenly stands up, not offering Ciel another glance before quickly retreating out the side door.

~~~

"Oh! Hello, I didn't realize someone was here." Gale walks up to the counter, eyeing the sullen Hyur. "Rough day?"

"Sort of. Never have I ever been so thoroughly rejected…!" 

…Huh? Is that what Reyna was on about… He thought back to a few moments ago, when Laurent suddenly burst out the side door, muttering something about 'a girl' and 'needing a moment'. He never could… well, talk to people, let alone take a compliment.

Gale chuckles. "Happens to the best of us."

"Hm." Ciel lifts her gaze, then smiles, a glint in her eye. "That's fine, you're quite the looker yourself." She leans over the counter to get closer to Gale. "Perhaps you'd like to take a break somewhere…?"

This woman is quite… forward… no wonder Reyna ran off. "You're quite pretty, but sorry, you're not my type." Gale chuckles again as Ciel sits back on her stool in a huff. "But, if you're so adamant to have a companion, I'm sure some of the patrons later in the night will be happy to oblige. So, do you want a drink?"

The Hyur sighs dramatically. "Sure, just give me a glass of ale. Might as well…"

[bitterfates]

FFXIV WRITE 2023; PROMPT 23 // 24: SUIT

The corset, while flattering to her figure, was laced so tightly that it made it more difficult to breathe than she was used to. The bonnet sat on her head in a way that rubbed against her feline ears uncomfortably, lace chafing the tips. The various bits of silver jewelry and other accessories that had been heaped on her were more ostentatious than what she’d pick out herself, but at least weren’t as heavy as the fabric of the dress. 

Speaking of the dress: it was stunning, and perfectly on-theme for the ball she had been coerced into attending. Like all the rest of the main pieces of this outfit, it was dyed the deepest black possible, with hints of white shown through as accents, like in the lace of her stockings and armlets. Even far away, it was the type of attire that one could tell was expensive by eyeing the texture alone.

Zizi felt…certainly beautiful, yes, but like one of the costly dolls that lined premier toy shops’ shelves; fragile and delicate and enchanting. It was a look so unlike her normal wear that when she viewed herself in the dressing room’s floor-length mirror, she hardly recognized herself, especially with her professionally-applied makeup and the way her hair had been styled and primped.

She took a moment to observe her whole appearance, slowly turning both left and right to see more details. She wondered if she should be grateful to receive a gift like this from her high-grade benefactor; if this was just him spoiling her, or if this was meant to be some sort of message for other purposes. 

As soon as that thought passed over her, she abruptly turned to face him, expression deliberately bland. Zizi knew this particular man’s personality well enough to know she must choose her next words precisely. “Your tastes are exquisite as ever, Ajin, but I fear I do not do justice to the image in your mind you must have. Are these clothes really suitable for me?”

He had been waiting for her to say something; she could tell by the way the corners of his mouth curled upward, dark-furred ears lazily flicking the same way. She hadn’t taken a good look at what he had chosen to wear until then, just now noticing that he had on a matching waistcoat and pants in exact fabrics and dye choice as her dress. Ah, she had realized far too late. This is another one of his power plays.

“Do you doubt me, pet? Or do you just have so little pride in yourself as to not believe you deserve nice things?” The Viera’s voice was a suave drawl as he stood up from the chair he’d been reclining in and began languidly approaching her, eyes sparkling with dark promises while he eyed her up and down. “I want both of my radiant gems to shine brighter than any star in the heavens, so I spared no expense. Everyone will know to whom you belong.” 

When he was within an arm’s reach of her, Ajin encircled his arms around her waist in an embrace, compelling her to rest her body back against his own. With a huff of irritation at the possessive words, she crossed her arms and gently turned her head to the side to not mess up her hair. He responded with a breathy laugh and squeezed her tighter, against which she put up no struggle to be released. 

(It was always a dangerous game to play with him; whether he would allow this little bit of defiance or anything but positive emotions and affirmations from her depended on his mood, and it seemed he was in an accommodating one tonight. While he had never been physically violent with her, she had learned well the lesson of how there were actions that could be taken against her that wouldn’t leave a tangible mark behind.)

He spoke again in a low, ominous whisper that had her ears tingling from the closeness and the tone. “Are you not pleased? You will be one of the most desired people in the room, coveted for your elegance alone. Many will attempt to garner a crumb of attention from you, but you will not so much as glance at any I do not approve of. You are mine, and you will not be tarnished by the likes of these beasts.”

A small motion indicating she wished to turn around was all it took for him to loosen his hold on her, allowing her to face him properly and lean up to chastely press a kiss on his cheek. Zizi could never be likened to his so-called soulmate, but she could be the other gentling influence he needed at his most domineering times too. She was strong enough for that much, at least.

“We are both yours,” Zizi responded calmly, sage green eyes locking with silver-blue. “No one will come between us. Haven’t we already promised our loyalty?”

Indeed, she continued privately to herself. Haven’t I thrown away all common sense and dignity for you? You have fashioned us into figures so wicked our own families would swear us strangers now. Are there any others better suited for you than me and him?

[carrera-ffxiv]

Happy Starlight!

She skipped and danced along the stone steps of Ishgard, twirling a dark umbrella in hand tainted a sanguine hue. The snow that graced her skin was indistinguishable from the fair tones, only her face clearly visible. Her dark hair flowed down one side of her visage; she wore a raven gown and a black coat with fur for trim. The tiny woman seemed unassuming, at least in Ishgard. She seemed happy and beaming with energy. An odd sight for one who may have seen her before, as was the situation with Damien. 

The details regarding his trip to Valnain were still being secured. Obtaining a guide that knew the area and was Viera was more difficult than one could have predicted. Alain had left the frozen lands to venture farther south in hopes of securing someone who could assist them. Damien’s purpose in Ishgard was to get additional supplies that they had needed and attempt to bridge some sort of truce between himself and Cordelia. It was, perhaps, a stretch but he had wanted for her nose to be as far out of his business as he could possibly imagine. The only way he could do that was to coax her into some sort of false sense of security. 

The large leather jacket he wore was lined on the inside with thick fur to provide suitable warmth and he wore wool gloves to prevent his hands from exposure to the elements. His honey hues caught the slightly familiar figure out of the corner of his gaze as he examined various produce items at one of the stalls in the market. His frame had shifted so he could obtain a better look at the woman. “Lady Blackheart,” he greeted with a raised brow. Her demeanor was certainly different than what he could recall at Vahalia’s dinner party. 

“Oh Damien! Perfect timing~” she sang off, moving to clutch his arm; there was a slightly uncomfortable clearing of his throat as she took hold. “I know I was a little mean when we first met but now I hear you have eyes for my cousin! How endearing! I’ve recently had reason to mull over and realize that I don’t -have- to be enemies with my cousin’s lovers. As such, I’ve brought a gift. Several in fact!” A pink hue kissed her fair cheeks from the cold, she would tug him away from the market toward the Foundation. “Oh, and Vahalia sends her well-wishes. Come on~” she would whine at him, an almost feminine, vulnerable, and strangely lucid disposition smiling at him.

His jaw had clenched and his visage displayed a stoic reprieve to his previously curious look. “Endearing,” he’d murmur in his response with a slight roll to his golden eyes. “I wasn’t aware that we were enemies in the first place, Lady Blackheart, and your cousin and I are not lovers.” His tone was flat as he offered her the correction. While the first part of her words was arguably true, the latter was a bit of a reach. There was a moment of hesitation as Carrera attempted to lure him farther away from the market and he halted in a statuesque manner. “I’ve no need for gifts.”

Carrera would swing in front of him, “Oh, come, come Damien. Let me present you with the gifts and what you do with them is entirely up to you. You could… take them yourself, or let me dispose of them. Whatever is convenient for you. Or did you prefer the whole path of being enemies? Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be glad to learn what the surprise entails, if nothing else. Did you prefer your women to beg? Mayhap we have that in common?” She beamed a smile at him.

A steadied breath was drawn into slightly parted lips as Carrera continued to beckon him. His eyes did avert at her portion regarding making enemies but Damien simply cleared his throat to recenter himself and took a step in her direction. In truth, the less enemies he had around right now the better. He was well positioned in the idea that Valeria would never directly cause him harm, but he seemed to have a consistent awareness of Vahalia’s duty to protect her family at whatever cost that entailed. Damien wasn’t about to find himself on the end of her ire because of a squabble with her cousin. “Very well, Lady Blackheart,” he offered in a cordial response.

She clapped happily, giddy with excitement, “Perfect, perfect! Come, come.” The lady in black would drag Damien along the Vigil and into the Foundation- strangely a pleasant walk with a striking view only Ishgard could offer, and through it all Carrera almost appeared… normal. Almost.. All seemed fine and well until they started approaching the gates that led to the Steps of Faith; she would take a sharp turn with the Gray man in tow. “Not much longer now. Have you often been down with the ne’er-do-wells and the peasants that don’t live in lofty manors? Such interesting people.”

There was a bit of uncertainty as she led him away from the market area. One of his free hands had casually moved to feel for the hilt of the modest dagger at his waist to confirm that it was still on his person before he released a held breath. “I don’t live within the city, Lady Blackheart, so I can’t say that I make much time here regularly.” He’d shrug slightly to himself after he had finished speaking. There was a brief pause as Damien sighed rather loudly and slightly put an emphasis in slowing his pace. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Oh, really? Is the Gray estate not within Ishgard? I had assumed as much. Shows how much I know.” she gave light shrug, “But then, I wasn’t commissioned to look into you.” Her mismatched eyes met his, a golden hue, and another with an aetheric blue peered into him. “Are you concerned Damien? Can I call you that? Please, call me Carrera. Don’t worry, you won’t have need for your dagger just yet, I wouldn’t let anyone harm a hair on your head! At least until you leave my sight. Just a little further into the Brume. There aren’t pesky Temple Knights or clergy around to bother us.”

“The Gray estate, the one that Cordelia occupies is within Ishgard,” he replied flatly. “Mine, however, is not.” There were few within Ishgard’s nobility who knew exactly where Damien resided. He preferred to leave them with the knowledge that he regularly flitted around and never stayed in one place for too long. The few that did know knew that Ambrose had purchased a modest manor in the Western Highlands for Damien shortly after Ambrose’s marriage to Cordelia. “You may call me Damien,” he exhaled. His patience was beginning to falter. “I’m struggling to find the reasoning for this.” 

The apprehension was apparent on his face as they they had approached the stone building that looked as if it had seen better days. All pretense immediately dropped as her smile faded away. “Business. That’s the reason for this.” Her voice was now terse, a fleeting reminiscence of his sister-in-law’s. A wind and a turn down the stone path, bricks both beside and below damaged and cracked from decades of conflict; they stopped in front of a wooden door, by which a homeless woman sat. Carrera leaned in graceful fashion toward the woman. Did she say something? Did she give the person something?  His lips pursed into a thin line as honey hues observed the interaction. “Come, come.” she waved him into the room, practically dancing with excitement now. 

The sight that followed was in equal measure jarring and unnerving. A spark of anxiety would creep into anyone surprised with the sight: Five people in smallclothes strung up by their necks, whimpering and whining as their life dwindled-- they struggled to keep alive as the very tip of their toes found a measure of purchase on a stool below each of them. What looked like wheat sacks were over all their heads. Two ruffians stood on either side of the room, looking just as homeless and disheveled as the woman outside; their countenance however, betrayed their appearance: Observing, calm and still. Clearly this was not an unfamiliar sight for them and they watched with care and poise as the two guests of honor entered the room. They were met with two deep bows.

Desperate crying, whimpering and the creaking of wooden stools hung in the air until Carrera’s voice broke the silence. “Happy Starlight!” she squeed with excitement.

He was unsure of what had taken place though Carrera’s demeanor had piped up and that had only given Damien more cause for concern. The visual before him had caused his jaw to square as he exhaled slowly. “This your idea of a present?” He asked flatly. 

His golden hues had happened over the strewn up bodies once more. The creaking of the chairs and their whimpering behind gags hadn’t caused as much as an effect as one would’ve assumed with the man. He’d seen his fair share of injuries and people that didn’t pay their bets and debts with the races found similar fates. “What’re we doing here, Carrera?” 

“These men were hired to follow you and report on you… and they did! Where you go, what you do~ Whoever you spend time with. I thought I’d give you the honor of first blood.”

Damien inhaled deeply, his gaze narrowed at Carrera for a moment before he stepped forward. His thick leather boot would carefully press at the leg of one of the chairs though not enough to move it. “Who hired them?” He asked as he turned to face her. 

She spoke with a smug grin. “One Ricard Blythe. I thought this would send a nice message that his …advances are not welcomed. Though, to be frank, it wasn’t all my idea. The execution, perhaps, but the request to handle this was from another.”

“Who made the request?” Damien quipped with a raised brow. His arms move to fold over his chest as he took a step back from the chairs to pace between them idly. “If I recall from the dinner, you don’t travel this way often so it’s clear that this is more than simple work to you.” 

“I don’t often speak on who commissions me for my art. You know how it is. But you’re a smart man, I don’t often take requests personally, and handle them myself. I’m sure you could imagine there are few that could motivate me so. Few that would be rather annoyed if they found out that, during your outings, they made mention of Valeria.”

The connecting of the dots was, perhaps, but he preferred to hear it spoken by Carrera. He already knew that Ricard Blythe had reported to Vahalia that he and Valeria were seen in Tailfeather and at the Starlight Gala, Ricard hadn’t denied his involvement in such reportings. “I presume you were made aware that Valeria was previously betrothed to Blythe?” His tone seemed to be rather amused by the notion as he feigned a slight chuckle. “I’ve yet to discern whether he’s a jealous man or that his intentions run deeper than this.” He sighed. “I also presume that you didn’t anticipate this merely being a quick hanging to prove your point?” 

“Well, luckily for him, he was betrothed. Only out of sparing my dearest cousin Valeria more heartache is why he still breathes. And as for them, I had thought you might lose your nerve and I’d end up cleaning up the mess.” She teased in a tone both teasing and grim. “I care not for their fates, just that a message is sent. There’s still more associates in his little network and they will be rooted out.

 I intended on cutting out their tongues as a gift for the client and eyes as a gift for Ricard. I’m very considerate, you see.” The hostages whined and shifted frantically. One accidentally knocked over their stool and began choking. She paid it no mind, gaze still locked on Damien’s. She seemed proud of herself-- as if somewhere in that mind of hers, she was being genuinely thoughtful to others. Hers was an innocent demeanor without context, but within, it was broken and murderous.

His golden hues exuded a particular warmth when the Hyur looked at someone, but in this instance the warmth felt anything but inviting. He remained fixated on Carrera as the whimpering progressed and the sounds of one of the men on his way to meeting his demise could be heard. After several seconds of silence, Damien turned to one of the large men that stood near the chairs. “Get him back up on it,” he urged with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Carrera nodded and the man complied. Damien paused for a moment before his fingertips reached for the tailored coat he wore and quickly removed it from his shoulders to discard it off to the side. “In many instances, I would’ve just been keen on letting them hang and you collecting whatever mementos you’d like but,” he’d pause as he began to roll up the sleeves of a meticulously tailored shirt. “Valeria has been quite impacted by the actions of Mr. Blythe and I intend to settle that score as best I can with the gift you’ve provided.” 

She blinked, pursed her lips, and canted her head, “Should I take their eyes and tongues now? I need receipts. I mean, if you need them to talk I suppose I could just take some fingers or something.”

“Which one has obtained the most information on my whereabouts? Including those with Valeria?” 

Carrera sighed, slightly annoyed. “The one you just saved apparently saw the events. But they all worked together as a team, in shifts, specifically watching you. Must be nice to be so popular!”

Damien nodded as he hummed to himself. A hand moved to gently tap at his chin. “You seem to be in quite the rush, Lady Blackheart. Here I thought your demeanor gave way to you enjoying these types of engagements.” 

“I like having fun! But I just need to make sure the job is done. If I leave them in your charge you might go soft and let them run away! It’d be too embarrassing.” she replied in a whiny tone and puffed her cheeks.

He’d sigh briskly before he approached the man that had been resituated atop the chair. In a rare occurrence, Damien had to cant his neck to look upwards at the man. “You reported that I disrespected Lady Valeria’s honor in that stable, no?” Clearly there was no chance for the man to answer as Damien turned to face Carrera once more. “I want him to watch himself lose his cock and balls and then I want him flayed. Preferably alive and conscious.”

“I can do that! I mean, or you can take that one. But just one. The rest I need to make sure a message is sent. The more parts the better!” she nodded sagely.

“We’ll save this one for last then,” Damien remarked with a nod as he reached to remove the dagger from the sheath at his waist. “Feel free to send your message,” he’d gesture with his freehand towards the men whose whimpering now began to sound more like the anxious squealing of pigs before slaughter. 

“Oh! Oh, you want to do it here, right now? I thought you’d get squeamish and I’d have to kick the stools out one by one! Okay. I can work with this. Get my tools for him!” she’d demand. A small duffel bag was dropped beside Damien, consisting of cloth packaging revealing cleanly kept surgical instruments.

“Why would we wait?” Damien asked with a half shrug as he stepped forward. There was an obvious flare to his nostrils as he sucked in a heavy breath. He approached the man next to the one identified as the Tailfeather rat and reached upwards to grab the rope so that he could begin to cut it. The man, knowing that his end was imminent, began to flail and squeal uncontrollably; the motions didn’t seem to phase Damien. Perhaps he’d compared it to the slaughter of an animal; Something he had been familiar with on more than one occasion. When the rope had been cut, he stepped back to allow the body to topple to the floor with a loud thud. 

The knife was quickly tucked into his leather belt as he reached forward to grab the end of the rope and pulled it tight and his other hand removed the gag and then clenched firmly over the man’s nose to force his mouth open. “There would be more satisfaction out of taking the eyes first, but this way no one will hear them scream.” His voice was musing, considerate even as he glanced up at her with somewhat of a smile. 

Her visage shifted from the hostage to Damien again, looking content-- “Happy Starlight.” she beamed with a warm grin.

[abeat]

12 - Dowdy

Today, she had done it. She had put on an outfit that had made her so unappealing, so dowdy, that Lavender felt sure she had overcome even the mightiest of curses. She had pulled up her hood to cover her ears and everything. She obscured her face. Her outfit made her resemble a wild woman of the woods more than a trendy dancer.

Surely today and for the rest of the month, no one would bother to hit on her while she wore her spriggan jacket, along with the matching boots and pants. It made her look like a giant child hunting for hatching tide goodies rather than a single woman nursing her wounds and cursing her bad luck. Lavender would almost be willing to bet on it.

Had she made that bet, she would have lost. Spectacularly. No matter how many times the corsage had vexed and tormented her this month, she never imagined that it could possibly work out here, southwest of Black Brush Station, hiding amongst the spriggans that hung out around some subterrane of some sort. All Lavender knew about it was that the Scions had received reports of the Warrior of Light going in there sometimes with a lalafellin lady. Not that it mattered at the moment.

All that mattered was that a lalafell had appeared. Out here. In what could qualify as the middle of nowhere.

"Spriggans are cute, but not as cute as you!" the high-pitched voice proudly declared with a big, shining smile on his face.

Lavender looked down with at the lalafell with a mixture of dread and morbid curiousity. How had the corsage worked even when she had been very careful to not even show off her figure? What could have possibly attracted the lalafell to her?

The lalafell’s demeanor changed then, giving her a seductive look. At least she thought it was supposed to be seductive, it was hard to tell with someone whose face resembled a baby. He even wiggled his eyebrows. "I could just eat you right up, cutie bunny. Want to see my brass blade? I have the brass balls to go along with it."

'What in the name of Menphina's Love is this? Is there some rule that every encounter brought on by this stupid corsage has to be more outlandish than the last?' Lavender thought as she looked around for an escape route. She really did not want to give up her hiding spot again, and she was running out of ideas of where she could teleport to.

A whistle sounded in the air. An actual spriggan appeared behind the lalafell, scooped the tiny baby-faced man into its arms, and ran off. Lavender wondered what was about to happen now when someone else appeared.

"You all right? I saw you looking uncomfortable there and thought you needed some help. I apologise if I got the wrong impression." A smooth, velvety voice asked her.

Lavender slowly ran her eyes up the owner of the voice and did her best not to gape like a fish. The man wore the traditional outfit of other males like himself. They barely seemed to contain his statuesque physique as her eyes slowly roamed up his perfectly formed body and eventually landed on his face.

She could not recall the last time she had laid eyes on such a gorgeous viera man. His handsome face was framed by his sun-kissed blond hair that covered his ears. The most striking feature about him had to be his red eyes that made his pale skin really stand out. Lavender felt the sight of the man steal her breath away.

The viera man waved in her face, eyebrows raised in concern. "Hot desert sun? I have some water here if you want. I didn’t drink from it." He started rummaging his bag then.

Lavender blinked, having been knock off the cloud of her daydreams and back down to reality. As the viera man kept rummaging through his bag, she realized something. No cheesy pickup lines. No longing glances. He had not been affected by the corsage. Why?

-

The gorgeous viera man belongs to @adeat. Thank you, as always!

[diamondangelkitten]

Vierapril Day 25: Desire

It was late one evening in the Rising Stones tavern and the girls were busy having a drink. Annabeth had mentioned her encounter with the masked man outside the town the day before, as well as his noisier companion, and the girls had been debating as to who these men could be. They were now deep in their own thoughts and enjoying each other’s company, when a tall Elezen walked over to Alira and tried to proposition her. She flirted back with the man, but ultimately turned him down. 

Annabeth turns to her companion, “Why didn’t you go with him?” 

Alira shrugs, “Eh, he wasn’t the right level of haughty.” Aurora splutters on her drink and Alinea is quick to pat her on the back before looking at the Viera. “I’m sorry,” Ali begins, “but did you say not haughty enough?” 

Alira nods, “Thanks to the Scions and the Eorzean Leaders we’re a lot more well known now. You either want a guy who is sincere in his affections or someone who thinks he’s all that for a one-and-done… You don’t want someone who doesn’t know what they want.” 

The others all look her over, but generally agree with her assessment. Aurora crosses her arms on the bar, and leans her chin on her arms, “What do you girls most desire in a partner?” 

Alinea takes a moment before saying, “I want someone who is willing to fight alongside me. I don’t need someone to fight my battles, but it doesn’t hurt to have a friend. I want someone who fights for what they believe in and most importantly, would fight for me.” The other girls nod, before Alinea adds in, “It wouldn’t hurt if he were tall either.”

Aurora nods, “All the better for giving hugs and cuddles.” She turns to look at Annabeth and Alira, “What about you two?” 

Annabeth casts her mind back to her village. None of the boys she met there had ever fascinated her, nor the women mind, and so far the only one who had even stirred any sort of emotion was the stubborn, obviously Garlean man she had met the day prior. “I want someone who challenges me. I want them to respect my boundaries, but encourage me to grow as well, if that makes sense?” There are murmurs of assent around the table. 

Alira sighs, “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted anyone as a serious partner, but honestly,” she smiles as she twirls her drink around, “I want someone to have fun with. I want someone who I could be totally myself with, who I could tell my fears and my joys. Who I could dance with in the kitchen and cry in bed with. Someone I could just live my true life with.” She shakes her head, “But that’s just a dream,” she sighs. “Let’s face it, men are idiots.”

Aurora looks at her, “So you’d want a husband?” Alira nods, “I think so. But if I meet a female that meets those requirements, I wouldn’t say no outright either.” 

Aurora nods, “Those all sound like wonderful desires. I hope you find the ones you’re looking for.” 

“What about you?” Annabeth asks. Aurora chuckles, “I’m quite fine waiting to see what I actually want. I’ll enjoy these crushes as they take me, and learn from them. I need to see what it means to truly want someone, good and bad.” 

Annabeth smiles and ruffles her hair, eliciting a squeak of disapproval from Aurora. “Good choice my dear. But for now my lovelies, I desire to sleep. Good night.” 

“Here here!” Alira cheers, winking at the girls, “Have sweet dreams tonight.”

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 18: A Fish Out Of Water

a person who feels awkward or unhappy because they are in a situation that is not familiar or because they are different from the people around them

Character(s): Syren Ligeia and his sis Willow, Bijou Myste, Amora Shimizu (belonging to @tokki-yue and @holy-halone) Cw: mild language Word count: 995 Notes: Just a fun lil one that my sister helped me come up with! Set in early ARR as Syren often let Bijou take the spotlight of Warrior of Light because he didn’t like the attention and she happily ate it up. (This of course doesn’t last but he held on to his incognito as long as he could XD)

Syren let out a sigh as he raised a hand to shield his face from the bright sun. Out of all the places he expected to go today, the beach was not one of them. It was already much too hot for his liking, the sun much to bright that he wished he had a parasol–not only that, but some sort of festival was happening–the Moonfire Faire if he could recall his sister’s excited babbling–and that seemed to bring in way too many people for the Viera’s liking. 

‘Let’s all go to the Beach’ she said. ‘It’ll be fun’ she said.

Except Syren wasn’t having any of it and he was ready to leave even though they had all just arrived. Too bad he was the only one who felt that way in his group and his inability to say no to his sister was what got him in this situation in the first place. 

“Wow! This looks so fun!” Willow gushed as she lead the group down toward the water. “There’s so much to do, I don’t know where to start!” 

“How about you three go have fun, and I’ll be here under the shade.” Syren stated flately to which his sister playfully rolled her eyes and tugged on his arm. 

“Oh don’t be such a grump Sy,” 

“Yeah Sy,” Bijou giggled. “Learn to let loose and have a little fun, will ya?” 

Syren shot her a look. “Aren’t you worried you’ll be recognized miss ‘Warroir of Light’?” 

Bijou shrugged innocently. “Nah, it’ll be fine! I’ve got a hat and sunglasses on–so long as no one draws any attention to us, we can all have a perfectly relaxing beach day!” She stretched her arms up, basking in the sunlight. 

“Even though you’re even the Warroir of Light.” Amora muttered as she crossed her arms and tossed a disapproving yet still amused look over at Syren. 

“Listen, if she wants to have the title and the attention, let her have it.” Syren responded with a shrug. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll be over here.” he tried to stalk away to the shade but both Bijou and Willow pulled him back with grins. 

“Oh no you don’t!”

“Come on, just for a little?” 

Syren let out a huff. Fine. Only for a little.

Except, only for a little turned into the majority of the day. The day seemed to drag on and by the time mid-afternoon rolled around, Syren was hot and exhausted, physically and socially. Amora and Bijou didn’t seem the least bit phased, in fact, if Syren didn’t know any better, he’d swear they were having the most fun because they were watching him suffer. He certainly didn’t miss Bijou’s amused grin every time he tried to retreat to the shade and Willow dragged him back out again, insisting he try ‘just one more thing!’

At some point, Amora and Bijou strayed from the group to relax under a parasol, both keeping watch over the siblings. “He has a hard time saying no to her, doesn’t he?” Amora chuckled, watching as Willow dragged Syren to a crowd of people who were learning some sort of dance. 

“Yep,” Bijou replied, leaning back on her chair to sunbathe. “He’s been like that with her ever since we were little. I’m surprised he hasn’t put his foot down more with her.” 

“I think it’s more of a he doesn’t want to see her upset kind of thing.” Amora responded with amusement. “Guess he can have a bit of soft spot,” she added quietly under her breath, as if still not quite believing it herself.

Meanwhile, Syren was just outside the crowd, awkwardly trying to do the dances move that were being taught, if only to please his sister once more in hopes to be left alone afterwards. He was not catching on as quickly, his movements 1 or 2 seconds behind the beat. 

“Look at Syren,” Bijou had said quietly so that only Amora could hear her, or so she thought. She nudged the other with a sly grin, pointing at the Viera. “He looks like a fish out of water with those bad dance moves. Good thing he doesn’t need those dance moves to be the Warrior of Light, we’d be doomed!” 

Syren stopped dancing, his ears twitching as he easily picked up Bijou’s words. After years of growing up with him, Syren figured she’d be more aware of his sharp hearing by now but he decided to use this to his advantage. She wanted to make fun of him? Fine, two could play that game. 

He discretely slipped out of the crowd with a smirk as he formulated his revenge. His sister was having too much fun to notice him leave and Bijou was still too busy laughing at him. Syren cleared his throat and cupped his hands to his mouth and shouting, “Hey look! Is that the Warrior of Light?” He pointed at Bijou as the crowd of dancers stopped and stared at him in confusion.

“Oh shit,” Bijou’s face fell as the realization of the situation dawned on her. Several people in the crowd turned to look at her, eagerly making their way over to her. She quickly stood, backing away slowly. “Oh come on Sy, it was just a joke!” 

Syren shrugged at her with a smirk, watching in amusement as she glanced at Amora in a silent plea to help but she too shrugged with a look that said ‘you did this to yourself’ Bijou groaned and took off in a jog down the beach to escape the group of eager onlookers. Willow was quick to follow after her, hoping in some way she could help while Amora just shook her head, watching the situation unfold but staying behind.

That should teach her. 

Syren laughed silently at his victory and retreated back to the shade, relishing that he’d get to spend the rest of the day in peace.

[1shepherd7wanderers]

Day 8: shed

Qih'tan stood beside the bed in a room at The Roost, striped down to his small clothes. His purple tail moved nervously about as he drank the potion in with his eyes. The bluish liquid in his hand was called a Fantasia apparently, and everyone had chipped in to buy him one. So he could be comfortable in his own skin. Qih'tan smiled at the thoughtfulness of his friends. With that comfort in his heart, he put down the potion. His feline ears wiggled as he took in the strange flavor of the potion. Not bad but he wouldn't describe it as good either. Just.. strange. After the flavor wore off to memory, he crawled into bed as a Miq'ote one final time.

Strange dreams and a morning later, he awoke. He climbed off the bed as slowly and carefully as he could. Despite his best efforts, he could not gauge his new body and fell straight on his rear. Qih'tan let out a laugh of surprise. He stood back up and looked about himself. His skin had changed from gray to brown and he felt taller. A glance at the glamor dresser had him doing double takes. The Viera in front of him felt so right. Like he had shed off an old, musty jacket three sizes too small. What showed under it was confidence and belonging. This body was his.

Qih'tan quickly got dressed in the outfit Aluette prepared just for this transformation. He smiled thinking of his girlfriend before heading to meet his friends in the Caroline Canopy. They were all there, breakfast stacked before them. Qih'tan walked to their table, chuckling a little to himself that none of them had noticed him yet. Perhaps Aluette would have if her back was not turned to him. "I'm done."

Aluette looked back and gasped, a smile across her face, "You look amazing!"

"I feel it too. I can't thank you all enough."

"Of course," Hohoka smiled, "You look much happier."

Qih'tan smiled back and gazed at Aluette. Her eyes looked hopefully, like words unsaid. "Speechless, dear?" They laughed.

"Well," Aluette lightly played with her hair, a cute nervous habit of hers, "It is a Viera tradition of sorts to change your name when your life changes." She continued, "Last might I thought of a name for you, if you want it."

Qih'tan nodded with tears stinging his eyes, "I would love to hear it."

"I was thinking Quill because you love to write and-" Aluette's explanation was cut short by a hug. Quill. It was perfect. The last part of his old self shed off. And thus was the Viera Quill reborn.

[shadowofroses]

Latina Itsukai

Demon Slayer

Pairing: Reader x Sanemi (not much tho)

Warnings: American Writer who is rusty with their Spanish like es muy malo, Argentinian Reader, Spanish and Japanese Romanji used, main story English. Language as in swearing, Song reference, Sanemi has a hardon in the end.

Note: I usually avoid Writing for Languages/Cultures that I feel insecure about representing. I studied in Argentina, so I do know the language and some culture that was there. Spanish will be Broken I do apologize, and thank you for having patience with me. @minxsane @saneminx can judge me all they want, It's for you~

Song: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee

Summery: Due to a Blood Art, somehow a Latina Reader ends up in 1900's Japan, leading them to eventually their new favorite person to annoy. Sanemi.

Headcannon/story for it:

Thanks to a Demon, somehow you found yourself from the comfort of your home back in Argentina. To the early 1900’s Japan, not just any place, either. Inside one of your favorite shows/manga. Demon Slayer. 

Luckily you were found by Mitsuri Kanroji during a Mission. The Demon she was fighting opened up some sort of portal to escape, however somehow you ended up flying into her arm, face first into her boobs as the demon disintegrated. 

Communicating frayed your nerves, and both of you ended up crying cause you both wanted to communicate easily. You weren’t that great with Japanese yet, “Nani, Daijoubu, Nani desu ka, and Omae wa mou shindeiru.” was all you recalled. Last one you refrained from ever saying. Or at least tried.  

You said it once when you were being grilled by Uzui, and he roared laughing. He learned that your Japanese was highly limited. It amused him so much. You lived and worked with the girls at the butterfly estate, until you were able to hold a decent conversation with most people in Japanese. 

You were entertaining yourself and the girls as you were waiting for someone to come get you so that you could actually talk to the Master Ubuyashiki. 

This is the exact time that Sanemi, Uzui and Rengoku were sent to escort you. 

“Mami, ¿cómo decirte lo que por ti siento? No tenerte sigue causándome sufrimiento, Pero si me vieras con los ojos que te veo, Fueras mi Julieta y yo por siempre tu Romero, Quiero tenerte aquí mi nena en una noche serena, Amándonos bajo la luna llena~”

You had sung out with a grin on your face. Taming down your dance moves. You had finished trying to teach them how to dance a tango. As you were singing your let your feet slide yourself back swinging your hips hard Inadvertently bumping into a body behind you.Turning your head slightly you noticed you had rocked your ass right into Sanemi’s crotch, causing a snicker from Uzui, Rengoku kept his eyes wide and straight ahead. “Estoy cagar…”

Sanemi twitched, “What the fuck I thought you girls were teaching her Japanese! What are you doing slacking!” 

Kiyo stepped forward, “She knows Japanese well enough now!”

Naho nodded, “Yes! We were waiting for you three to get here.”

“I can speak Japanese.” You grumbled turning to Sanemi, regardless of how attractive he was, he annoyed you with his rudeness. “Eres un baludo.” you smirked, KNOWING he wouldn’t understand, Sanemi stiffened blushing slightly as you walked past him, “take me to the Master.”

“YES!” Rengoku exclaimed, as he started to walk off with you. Uzui manhandled Sanemi to turn to follow. 

“The fuck did you say to me?!” Sanemi wanted to be pissed, but Uzui heard his heart rate, causing him to grin down at the shorter Hashira.  

You smirked just staring forward, “Chupar mis huevos Sanemi.” 

Uzui slapped Sanemi’s back laughing, before lowering his head, “You may need to control yourself.” 

Sanemi snapped back at the Sound Hashira, “The fuck are you talking about?!” 

Uzui leaned in more, and whispered into Sanemi’s ear. Behind you you heard a frustrated scream. And you tried not to look behind you at that, not wanting to know what pissed him off. 

[pyrrhesia]

FF14W22 - Miss the Boat

In which Ysabet Sable begins to appreciate the value of opening up.

Felicity is @kdrawssometimes​ ’.

Ysabet Sable had done what she needed to do. Saved the world, sure. The universe. Got out alive and uncorrupted. Said her farewells, and did what she had to... What she thought she had to do. But it had been true, what they said. She never really could go home, again. She always thought, in her arrogance, it would be different for her, somehow. That the world would bend for her. Had she not done enough? No. She had not. She could never. She was no longer viera. The enforcers on Camoa's fringes had been at pains to point this out to her, and her gut still stung from the arrow Kjva put there. The thought brought back the pain, brought her back to the present. She grimaced and rubbed her midriff gingerly. Where was she now... ? Ah. Yes. She'd come back as soon as she could to Limsa Lominsa. It was not home. She did not have a home. But she had lived there for a time. That would suffice, so long as there was a drink - a strong one - in hand. This was her third. Fourth? Fourth. Staring blankly into the middle distance, she didn't notice the familiar face - or, well, that wasn't quite hanging in her eyeline, but that was beside the point - until it had coughed once or twice in her direction. That brought her to the present. Just about. The click, click, click of rounded-off nails brought her eyes up to a smile. Ysabet supposed she said something intelligent, like "Eh... ?" "Ah, so you really are in the land of the living! I was getting worried there for a moment." Felicity swung herself into the seat across, steepling her hands under her chin. The first Eorzean Ysabet had ever met, and the captain of the ship that took her to these shores. "It's been far too long. I wasn't expecting to stumble into you in port, like this." Too long, indeed. For Felicity, two years; for Ysabet, closer to five. The sorceress roused herself to make conversation. "My work took me far." Felicity raised an eyebrow. "The rumours I heard were that you were stretched out on a bed at Revenant's Toll." "Ah, well. You'd be amazed the amount of god-slaying one can get up to, in dreams." She forced a tight smile. "I had hoped to find you earlier, myself." Felicity slipped a flask from her belt, unfastening the lid with her teeth as she kept remarkable focus on the viera. Ysabet wondered if she seemed off-balance or out of sorts. She did. "That so?" "I sought passage to Ivalice." Ysabet shrugged. "Then back. The endeavour was a mistake." "How's that?" Again, the twinge in her gut acted up. "You can never go home again, that's all." "Depends on the home, eh? Guess you'll need to find a new one." "Easier said than done, I fear." "It sounds like what you need, even so." Ysabet wrestled with that for a while. More than she was meant to. At last, she looked up with a crooked smile. "You didn't really come here to trade in philosophy with an old woman, did you?" No. She did not.

Muscle memory took them to a private room and left their clothes scattered across the floor. They left each other a tangle of limbs, slowly unpicked by gravity. Ysabet, in time, tried to roll off onto her back, but she could not muster the energy. Easier to surender to inertia and slump down, pressing her sharp cheekbone into Felicity's soft belly. It felt good to lie here. Listening to the cycling of her breath. She felt present in a way that had been hard to come by, in Norvrandt. She had not stepped across the void in full, but been torn from herself as little more than a ghost. She had been able to walk, and speak, and touch, and most critically, fight. She had consumed food, and felt something akin to hunger. But her body was locked stubbornly into some sort of stasis, and she never quite felt in tune with it, enduring years in a state of low-grade dissociation. No wonder, then, that she had wanted to go back to Camoa, where there was such connection between her and the land underfoot. She had always felt so in tune with herself and the world, there. And now... and here... No, she thought. Stop, she thought. Navel-gazing would get her nowhere. Sitting around and feeling sorry for oneself was for the lesser races. Everyone she knew, it seemed, had taken time to allow themselves to be overwhelmed by their circumstances. Shown it in different ways, perhaps. Aeran had shut down. Cwenthryth had simply vanished for a time, and returned when next of use. Yangir had, memorably, exploded. But not Ysabet. Ysabet was strong enough to cope with being ripped away from her life, dumped in a strange foreign world, and left in a narrowly-wrong parody of the grove she'd grown up in. Ysabet was strong enough to cope with years without her companions. And of course, strong enough to cope when they showed up at last, exhausted and with eyes only for the next step on the way to saving the world once again. After all, what had Ysabet done to be regarded with any warmth? Had she not always asserted her distance and superiority? Was this not what she wanted? So why, now, was she holding back tears? She did not belong. Not with the Scions, not with Norvrandt. She had always - always - known at the back of her mind that none of this was, truly, her place. She could always go home, if it ever got too much. Well, so much for that. But perhaps she could make this her home, still. It was not too late. She just had to start engaging with it. Perhaps with gifts. Perhaps, when given a clear invitation to speak on travels that had been painful to her, she should not blow them off. With effort, Ysabet crowbarred herself up, sweeping her legs across to sit. She reached over with a careful, elegant claw, and pulled stray strands of hair away from Felicity's eyes. "I'd like to tell..." Her words trailed away, as she heard the faint kitten-purr rumblings of a snore slip between Felicity's lips. A wry smile. Perhaps this was neither the time nor the place. But the thought was right. It felt right.

[noodlyfun-blog]

Lost At Sea

The endless night sky of stars beamed over the lone woman writing away on the balcony of the ship. The full moon in the cloudless sky cast its bright light on the dark ocean and gallery; Alaria didn’t need the lantern burning dimly next to her. It was one of those peaceful nights; the only sounds were the ambience of the ship that she had gotten used to over the first moon and her pen scratching away at paper. 

I’m sorry for running off. I hope we can meet again when I return. 

“Ship hoy! Get the captain!” Shouts from the deck pierced through the peaceful ambience and Alaria sighed. She crumpled her paper and buried it into a stack of other incomplete letters piled in her bag. It only took a few ticks for the sounds of more shouts and hurrying feet took over the ship. Alaria added her own to the mix and hurried her way to the deck to see what all this commotion was about. The lalafell Captain Gugo scurried up beside the significantly taller viera Alaria. The captain tried to sort his sleep disheveled green hair to no effect; it stood in a tall cowlick. The first mate Boone was still shouting “Ship hoy!” while pointing his long arm in the distance as the pair made it to deck.

A lone ship, almost identical to the one Alaria was aboard, sat perfectly still in the distance as if it was enjoying a nice slumber in this peaceful night. The viera instinctively looked up to the sky to find four bright green stars lined up like an arrow aiming at the distant ship. The captain stuffed his hat atop his cowlicked head and made way to his boat’s edge; the viera followed close.

“We should board it.” Alaria spoke up. Captain looked up at her before turning his gaze back to the lone ship. “I’m telling you, the stars haven’t led me astray yet.”

“Of course we’re gonna board it. Who knows what loot we could find in those fat holds.” The lala scoffed. It was always the potential for him but why else would anyone ascribe to this life. Realizing that the tall Viera was probably judging him, he quickly added. “And maybe we’ll find some survivors to save too.”

The ship in the distance only responded with silence. There were no lights shining anywhere within or upon it. It just sat there silently and that seemed answer enough.

______________________________________________________________

Alaria gazed into the water as the boarding boat drew closer and closer toward the lone ship. It was clear, just like the sky, save for some dots toward the bottom of the sea. She thought they looked like eyes peering up to the would-be intruders and shuddered as they seemed that maybe they were slowly rising to the surface. But then the rowers stopped as they clunked into the lone ship and she had no time to think of those dots deep below as the boarding party climbed a letter to the deck.

The climb felt long and quiet save only for the heavy breathing of Boone as he tired and sound of boots slapping wood. Alaria was only behind the Captain on the ladder and they both reached deck one after the other. There were no signs of life anywhere above; no crates nor barrels casually sitting around, no bodies or people or sounds. There was only a layer of dust caked on every surface; dust that had time to gather and rest.

“I don’t like the look of this.” Boomed Boone as he made his way up the ladder. The Captain shushed him and motioned with his hand that maybe everyone should speak more quietly. Boone apologized softly but Alaria agreed with him. She didn’t like the look of this at all.

Gugo knelt down to place his ear on the deck floor which seemed odd but maybe his short stature could hear something better than she. Alaria crouched down to a knee and her ear turned ground-ward. There was sound from down there; it sounded like screams muffled through the boards and nails scratching on planks.

“I’ll check the Captain’s quarters..” The crew’s captain quietly said. “Boone, Gibbs, and Sharkey check the hold. Alaria..”

But she was already headed toward the door to go below. He knew that he couldn’t really give the Viera orders; Alaria always followed her own intuition. As she put her hand on the door, the three other crew got close behind, and they all listened. Screams, muffled screams, just on the other side. Boone handed Alaria a lantern as she opened the door and took a tentative step into a hall. 

“Hello?” She quietly called out into an empty hold. The screams were gone; replaced with an oppressive silence. She didn’t know if she would feel better if someone responded to her call or if they had found a source to the screams. Boone and company stepped around her, quietly conversing to themselves about how they wanted off this ship as fast as possible. She couldn’t blame them.

She cautiously stepped her way deeper and deeper into this hall. Every so often she thought she had heard the screams again behind a door but every door she opened only led to an empty room. It was as if the screams only existed in the wood itself. Her lantern illuminated layers and layers of dust caked upon railings, tables and cannons. No life, no people to be found. The Viera was ready to leave this ship more and more as she took steps. 

Then, she found a particular door with gold floral engravings running up the edges. The screams from this door were the loudest yet. Alaria gulped and slowly pushed it open to a silent bedroom. Her feet brought her in and her eyes and hands drew themselves to a bag laying atop the bed. There were letters inside, lots and lots of letters. She pulled one out and unfolded it.

I ran and I’m sorry for that. But how could I face you if I can’t face myself? I hope you understand. And I hope that one day we can talk again.

Alaria pulled out another.

One day we’ll meet again and we’ll have some muffins and we can catch up. I’ve seen a lot since I’ve stowed away on this boat..

Letter after letter, Alaria skimmed through them all as she pulled them out of the bag. Finally there were no more and all that was left was a small box for a deck of cards. It was long and the design on the back was a gold rose on a purple background and inside revealed an entire deck. She fingered a card from the middle of the deck to reveal what looked to be water falling into an urn but she found some words atop the card that were upside down. She turned it over and now the water spilled and the card read The Ewer.

A scream pierced the uneasy silence followed by more yelling from below. 

“Off the ship! We gotta go!” Was being yelled from down the hall and the staccato of running boots got closer and closer. Alaria closed the deck up and turned quickly toward the door. She gasped.

A dark gray hand on a formless body reached toward her. It had no eyes and fingers longer than any dagger. It also had a mouth, wide open and it screeched at the girl. The Viera dove under the specter and rolled into the hallway for a sturdy hand grab her back the scruff of her jacket and pull her up. Thankfully it was Boone with Sharkey close behind. There was no Gibbs.

The trio sprinted through the hall as more and more specters manifested through the walls. Captain Gugo was already at the ladder motioning frantically to his crew. They sprinted, Boone breathed heavy, but hesitated as they looked down at their small row boat. The water around had turned a pale green but Boone practically shoved everyone off the deck down into rowboat because they had to go. 

Boone and Sharkey started rowing as hard as their muscled arms could and Alaria studied the water. Hundreds of pale green faces studied her from just beneath the surface. Their eyes were pure white and their mouths were wide. Thankfully the rowing duo were deft at their task and even more thankfully the faces did not follow them as they neared their own ship.

[eorzean-tale]

FFXIV Writing Challenge Prompt 26: Dream Mist

Part 9 of the Oaksong tale

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine

The magic that had given her darksight had long since worn off, so when he lit the alchemical lanterns in his basement workshop it no longer made her flinch. It bathed the room in enough light to easily read by, and yet still had a strangely cosy quality to it with its candle-like golden glow. They smelled nice as well, she noticed, but perhaps that was to be expected given the man’s profession, or one of his professions, at least.

He tutted playfully at the way she had left the place, even though Nareema was of the opinion that she had left everything the way she found it. The man was either being contrarian for the sake of it, or had a keener eye for details than even she had. To his credit, he didn’t seem to hold any true grudges for what she did to him though. The Au Ra woman supposed that when you live as long as Viera did, surprises like she sprung on him might be a welcome distraction from the daily grind. As long as you survived them, anyway.

It surprised her that he walked away from what she assumed his stores were, and in her haste to follow behind she missed whatever he did to make a secret entry open up in the wall furthest from the stairs. It prickled her professional pride, as she had checked for such but had found no sign of it. “This must open up into the basement next door,” she murmured, remembering the layout of not just his shop, but of the ones adjacent to it as well.

He nodded, not at all surprised by her observation. “It flooded, oh, about 20 years ago? It was such a mess that they just simply bricked it shut. It was easier for them than actually repairing the damage.”

“So you just did that for them?” Nameera wasn’t entirely sure that she believed him as she stepped into the second workshop. This one was just as roomy as the first, and if water had damaged the place there was no trace of it as far as she could tell. A quick glance up did show a bricked ceiling where the stairs should be, but perhaps his neighbour was more aware than he wanted to let on. This was where he conducted less savoury examples of his craft, after all. Maybe he simply didn’t want to implicate them.

The Viera man tapped on the lanterns spread around, bathing them in the same golden glow, before he seemed to forget she was there entirely. His focus was entirely on collecting components, which he neatly organized on a workbench. Doubt gripped her heart for a moment, as she had based her theory of uninvolvement on what she had, or more precisely hadn’t, found in his workshop. Obviously she had missed a few things, though. Was he toying with her?

“Poisons that leave no trace are a myth,” he suddenly said, snapping her out of the mental spiral she had been rapidly plummeting down into. “I know,” Nameera replied. “If you have the knowledge and tools, all of them leave traces. Though those are oft carefully guarded trade secrets, no?” A nod confirmed what she already knew. “I’m curious to learn how you know so much about this topic. It’s clear you must have a background in Alchemy yourself.” His light lavender eyes searched her face, as if he could gleam the secrets from the way she conducted herself. Nameera just smiled, not bothering with a reply.

Seeing that he wouldn’t get any more from her, at least not on that topic, he pointed towards his ingredients. “Any one of these could be mixed into a draught that can kill a grown Spoken, from the smallest Lalafell to even someone as massively built as a Hrothgar. Black Dragon will stop a heart,” he continued, gesturing to the ingredients used to make the dangerous concoction, “But it will blacken the edges of the victim’s nails. I don’t think you would have missed that?”

She frowned as she shook her head, feeling almost insulted by the very notion of having him explain such to her. To emphasize that she really didn’t need him to spell out everything, Nameera pointed to another set of ingredients. “Ishgardian High Tea will leave traces of a minty smell on their breath, and Hemlock Lilly kills far slower and far more painfully.” 

“Wish that you would have led with that to seduce me, a woman who knows her poisons sure gets the blood running hot,” he replied with a laugh, but when she turned to glare at him she saw genuine admiration in his eyes. It took her aback enough to sullenly admit that she didn’t know what the last ingredients were for. With a sharp nod of the head, they were indicated. “Ah, those are from my homeland. Very rare so far from the jungle, and very deadly when ingested. It’s normally used as a mist, to put intruders to sleep.” A rueful smile came to his lips as he continued: “Wish you would have known about it, for they wouldn’t have given me quite such a headache as whatever it is that you did use..?”

Nameera ignored the bait, and just gestured to him to continue. “It does what you describe, in that it kills suddenly and quickly if someone were to ingest it. It’s even tasteless and odourless to anyone who isn’t a Viera. That said, it’s also a closely guarded secret of my people, and not even I would sully their legacy by selling it for profits. I’d need to inspect the body of one of the victims to know for sure, but I find it very unlikely that this is what you’re looking for. None of my stock is missing either. I’m far from the only Viera in Radz-at-Han, mind, but it’s not common for even those still loyal to the Green Word to know how to make it, let alone those of us that… Well.” He shrugged as his hand shot to the pendant around his neck again, regret and longing clear on his expressive features.

“We need to rule it out, just in case,” Nameera told him not unkindly. She didn’t know why the man had left his homeland and his people behind, if it had ever been his choice to begin with, but she understood all too well what it was like to have doors behind you that were closed forever. For better or worse. “To the mortuary then,” he replied, making it sound like they were going on some sort of exciting date. “And maybe then you can tell me about that pendant, hm?”

[dalmascan-requiem]

Dalmascan Requiem: Confessions (Chapter 2)

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With the morning comes many questions... and a splitting headache.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

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I want to strangle Gale ngl, use your words boy please. Granted that failure to communicate is one of his bigger flaws, I suppose. Let's just hope one of them figures their stuff out.

The sun was bright. Too bright.

Laurent groans as he turns away from the window. Gods, my head hurts. My everything hurts. The sunlight streaming into his room let him know that it was well past noon--but Laurent couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed.

Instead, the Viera wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened last night. He remembered waiting at the bar for Gale, and became worried when he was running late. Laurent considered going to look for him--he knew the job Gale was on was risky, and he might have run into trouble. 

Gemna, however, scoffed at the idea, telling Laurent to calm down and offering him a drink. The Rava rarely drank, but Gemna knew that Laurent didn't have much of a tolerance for alcohol, and figured the Bangaa wouldn't have made anything too strong.

The rest of the night was a blur. That's what I get for trusting her…

Laurent figures there's no way he would have been able to make it home on his own, and given how Gemna was, it was likely Gale that somehow got him back to the apartment. I'll have to thank him… but…

Whenever Laurent thought of Gale, he felt apprehensive. He wasn't sure why--he'd never felt anything of the sort toward the other Viera before. Something must have happened last night, but he couldn't remember what for the life of him.

Laurent slowly moves his gaze to the bedroom door. He could faintly hear some sounds outside of it--if he had to guess, given the time of day, Gale was making a meal. His stomach protested at the thought of food, but Laurent knew he needed to eat--as well as deal with whatever happened last night.

~

"Ah, you're awake."

"Yes…" Laurent carefully closed the door to his room--mainly to prevent the noise from worsening his splitting headache. Once done, he turned to look at Gale.

The light-haired Rava was in the kitchen and hadn't turned around. He noticed Gale was chopping something slowly. He's trying to be quiet… I'll have to thank him for the courtesy.

Laurent makes ready to speak, but the dull throbbing in his head made stringing the words together difficult--not to mention the constant uneasiness of his stomach. Instead, the silence stretches on for a moment until Gale turns around.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright?" The Viera makes his way over to Laurent, concern clear on his face. He looks so tired… Did he not sleep last night? 

"I… have felt better…" Laurent gives Gale a small smile, but the other Viera quickly breaks eye contact. 

"I know you feel awful now, but don't you worry--we'll get a good meal in you and you'll start to feel better." Gale offers Laurent a smile, then abruptly turns around. "I-I know you probably don't feel like eating, but trust me, it will help." Gale heads back to the kitchen. "Sit down and rest, I'm almost done."

Laurent leans against the sofa with a small sigh. Eir is acting strange… something must have happened. He rubs his temples to try to ease the dull throbbing of his head, but it's largely ineffective.

"...Do you… remember last night at all?" Gale's hesitant question cuts through the silence of the apartment. Laurent frowns.

"No, I don't, whatever Gemna gave me to drink was too strong."

Gale chuckles, but it seems forced. "That's no surprise, she gave you something I normally drink… and even then it was mixed to be stronger than usual." He turns and offers Laurent a plate of food. "Here, this will help."

Laurent looks down at the plate of heavy finger foods with a deeper frown. "...I appreciate the food, Eir, but I'm not sure if my stomach can handle this."

"Trust me, it'll help more than something like a bowl of soup will. I've nursed my fair share of hangovers, Reyna." Gale looks away, staring out the window for a moment before continuing. "I… must apologize."

"Apologize?" 

"Yes, if I hadn't been late, this wouldn't have happened."

Laurent chuckles lightly. "While I appreciate the apology, you know Gemna would have orchestrated this regardless. She does love causing me trouble."

"Causing you trouble? I'm the one that had to carry you all the way home! Do you know how heavy you are!? You just decided you wanted to stop walking!"

"Did I…?" Laurent thought back once again to the night before, and he began to have some murky memories of what happened. Gale helping him out of the bar, and him feeling too dizzy to keep walking. Thinking Gale was stronger than he let on as the Viera carried him. Asking Gale something once they were home, but he couldn't remember what--only the feelings of apprehension returned.

"I thank you for getting me home safely, Eir. I can't remember much, but I feel like I should be the one to apologize. I've caused you a lot of trouble."

"It's fine, Reyna." Gale flashes Laurent a warm smile. "I'm just glad you're okay… relatively speaking."

Laurent can't help to think about how charming Gale looks when he smiles but quickly pushes the thought aside. "Eir, you look tired, did you not sleep?"

"I did not, I think I'll get some rest now. But do let me know if you don't feel better soon." Gale makes his way to his room but stops short of the door. "You truly don't remember anything?"

"I'm sorry, I do not. If I did or said something to upset you--"

"N-no! Nothing of the sort. I was simply wondering. Don't overexert yourself, Reyna."

Gale rushes into his room and before Laurent could respond, leaving him to stare blankly at the door. What in the seven hells…?

The long-haired Viera looks down at the plate of food. He's acting so strange… He sighs as he takes a bite. I hope I haven't messed anything up. I'd hate for Eir to be upset with me…

This past year has been one of the happiest Laurent's been for a while, now. He'd never expected to see Gale again after leaving the jungle, but now that they were together again, he doesn't want anything to happen that would separate them again.

Perhaps… Did I say something I shouldn't have? Laurent's feelings for Gale had always been strong, but he didn't try to deny them or push them away--the Viera was simply happy to be near him. The occasional thought would sometimes have him wishing for more, but those feelings would pass quickly.

Gods, did I tell him my feelings? Seven hells, did I proposition him? No wonder he's acting so weird, Eir is no doubt looking to avoid me now that--

Laurent shakes his head and takes a breath. No, I shouldn't let my thoughts get the better of me. Perhaps in a few days, I can remember what happened--or maybe it'll all blow over and I have nothing to worry about. He sighs as he takes the last bites of his food. Perhaps I'll talk to him tomorrow…

[chainsofaether]

9. If they could change one part of their appearance, what would it be? (Hi im here to slam you with some more asks <3)

When you first sent this I was a bit stumped. She's pretty, and vain, with a nice side of having a few hundred years of only getting better. It's nice being a Viera. Why would she want to change something? I mean look at her.

Then I did look and it hit me, her eyes. She doesn't really have a complex about them. They just are. But occasionally when the lack of vision in the right is starting to annoy her, or she happens to see someone looking her in face oddly, she has the thought. Just that tiny thought that it would be nice if the red was still blue. But that's tied up a lot in exactly why her eyes are mismatched.

Understandable, if a bit boring.

So something more interesting? One think I've become aware of is I sort of let the game define the way she looks. In a vague sense. She's 6'3" because the game told me that's the tallest a Viera can be. What other trap did I fall in? Probably need to do a detailed write up on what she looks like sometime.

But back to the something more interesting. One thing she often thinks is that she wishes she looked more like her mother. She's pretty sure, but her mother was something else. She feels thinner then her mother. Her hips aren't as wide. She's also a lot weaker. But she can fix thin and weak with the right diet and exercise in a sense, and lots of work. How do you fix hips?

One might ask when was the last time she saw her mother? Oh, over half her life ago? Maybe she doesn't remember exactly right? No, couldn't be.

So for all her vanity she want to look more like a memory of a person she hasn't seen in almost two decades. A memory that isn't very accurate. I mean mostly it is, but mom was twice her size back then. That warps perception a bit.

What she hasn't realized, and may never, is that she is nearly her mother's twin at this point. A bit more muscle from a life in the forest and some weight and she probably would be her clone.

((Thanks for the ask @sirenofdusk! I've still got a number to get to this one just got stuck in my head since it didn't have an answer. So it got worked on first. Also new hair because really she should have long hair I just cut it way back during realm reborn story when a certain attack happened. Seemed fitting with ED to let it be long again.))