#if you think about shadowbringers and the shards a certain way

[cloudofdarkness]

His Own Echoes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning Major Character Death

Category: M/M

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationships:

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light

Hythlodaeus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Characters:

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch

Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV)

14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen (Final Fantasy XIV)

Additional Tags:

Angst

Shadowbringers Spoilers

u ever just sad that you keep losing your lover through every reincarnation

Language:English

Words:1,049

Summary:  This was a quicker, shorter one but have some angst??? We love rewriting a scene to be sadder and gayer

As the final beast was felled and the Scions stood triumphant against an apocalyptic Amaurot, the Warrior of Darkness couldn’t help but sense something off. Everything surrounding them was merely a conjured illusion, sure, but something more pricked at the back of his neck like the smallest of bites from a spider.

The Scions took to exploring the ruins carefully, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t help but find himself being pulled, ushered in a certain direction, as if he’d walked this road before, seen the horrors in front of him. It was familiar, wasn't it? Don’t deny it. He wouldn’t want you to.

A small, side path took him away from his team, and he turned to look over the burning world orbiting below him. He wondered then, how many times the Source had suffered the same damage. He’d been barely present for one calamity, he dared not think of another, greater one. It wasn’t as if he didn’t consider the plight Amaurot had gone through, he felt every world was worth saving, but what was gone was gone. He couldn’t sympathize with Emet-Selch in the way that he wanted nothing more than to destroy this shard, as well as every other to renew what was lost. If some part of the warrior had been present during all of this, he certainly would hope he’d have looked past their dying world for the better.

“You seem troubled, my friend. Are we not putting an end to this, as we promised?”

There was no one around for those words to be spoken.

The Warrior’s ear flickered, stopping his trek down the path to look around for any straggling illusions, but nothing came up. Was this another trick of the Ascian? Or was it another sign that he was losing himself to the light? Either way, he had to ignore it.

“Oh, do not worry about me. My eyes feign melancholy, but I could not be more relieved that we should be bringing such hurt to an end. I only regret it had to come to this.”

Another voice, an almost familiar one rang to his ears- no- echoed around him as if the two speaking were simply out of reach.

This had to be an illusion.

He was growing too far from the Scions, too far into the destruction that was Amaurot. He would deny the fear building in his chest, only because it was overridden with curiosity. This was the ascian’s doing, it had to be.

His eyes returned to the path in front of him, observing the cobblestone turning crystalline, it’s deep shade of violet glowing almost serene and natural beneath his feet. Somehow, he felt away from his worries, as if he wasn’t himself in that moment. The burning heat of light in his chest felt numbed and somehow the world around him seemed...natural. Familiar.

And then he stopped in his tracks.

His chest hitched with a sharp inhale, but the sight of the body just yalms away from him stole his breath just as quickly.

He hardly had time to register it’s lack of movement. And his voice rose out of him in a terrified scream.

“Hythlodaeus!”

It was, and wasn’t his voice, and it confused him ever more. He had meant to speak another name, but he hadn’t even noticed the misspoken words, nor did he care. He rushed to the body’s side, his hand shoving itself under his robes and carefully moving him into his arms.

The Exarch was stiff, cold, motionless- practically a dolly in his arms. His head fell limp against his chest as he pulled him in, and he looked as if he were simply sleeping.

“...Raha…?”

The warrior’s voice cracked under his held back cries, searching his face for any sign of a response, any hope that Emet-Selch hadn’t taken what was left of him. Please gods let it not come to this. He was so bloodied and bruised, a gash on his head and at the corner of his lip, and who knew where else...beaten within an inch of his life, mayhap all of it.

His hand came to cup his cheek, thumb gently brushing the crystal coating his jawline and spiking under his eye. This had to be a trick. This couldn’t be real, not after everything they’d suffered. “Raha...please...please wake up...I can’t lose you now…”

A shaky hand ran itself through faded pink hair, brushing the stray strands from his face, now growing cold with the call of passing. His lover cradled him on the brink of their ruined world. Fires burned and buildings were torn asunder around them, but all that was heard were the gentle sobs of the bringer of light as they held their dear friend in hopes that they would awake once more.

There was little hope in it. He had given himself to save their world. To save those they had lost, that they had loved. Why then, did they still exist in this destruction? Did the light not deem him worthy?! He was worth more than anyone had told him. Why was he denied this now?

“Hythlodaeus...my love, you shall not be forgotten...your actions shall forever scar my heart and I will wear it proudly, I swear!” The light bringer, no longer the 14th, could barely croak their promise through the tears, but he would have him hear his promises. His story would not go untold. “I promise you, you shall be remembered…that I would never be without you.”

The warriors eyes fluttered open, and is if it were a calling, the hand pressed against the Exarch’s back felt the smallest of inhales. It was weak, but thank the gods he was still breathing. He hadn’t noticed the tears of relief flowing freely from his eyes until he watched them drip onto the injured miqo’te’s face. Emet-Selch did this to him, but he would not suffer another ill-willed finger on him. As long as the ascian remained and the light inside of him burned, not another soul would come near the Exarch. He would not lose him again.

He stood then, with him in his arms, and dutifully returned to the Scions.

That he wouldn’t never be without him.

[sezja]

Hi! For your WOL questions, I'd like to know about all of them, for 1 and 13! Or you can pick at random off, whichever you want to talk about the most ❤

FFXIV WoL questions (still accepting!)

1. Why did they pick their first class/job? What about the job they main now?

Coeli Qoet: Started off as a lancer because her mother fought with a spear before leaving the forest with her father. A chance encounter in Coerthas set her on the road to becoming the Azure Dragoon, a title she has attempted to set aside - the events of Shadowbringers lead her to pick up Reaper, as she hopes to bring some sort of harmony between the Void and the rest of the shards.

Ernaswys Lubbloefwyn first learned to fight in the Marauder's Guild (her mother and oldest sister are Yellowjackets), but didn't get far before they kicked her out. She sort of tripped into joining the Rogues instead, and no one's really sorted out the wild series of events that led to her becoming a ninja; no one's quite certain how a seven-foot-tall Sea Wolf in bright pink sparkly clothing who bursts into tears if she experiences any emotion stronger than a 6 qualifies as a ninja, but she's got the knives and can perform the mudras, so no one's looking at it too closely, either.

Ibakha Dotharl is a warrior of the Steppe, and has wielded her axe since she was strong enough to carry it. If you ask her, she's been wielding an axe since before she was born, and has in fact done so for several lifetimes.To watch her fight, it's easy to believe it.

Tajna Ratyasch prefers to fight from a distance, but has no gift for manipulating aether - so she started out as an archer, but when the guildmaster tried to point her toward becoming a bard, Tajna proved too shy to sing. She tried picking up a machinist's flintlock, but didn't care for the loud noises, and the manufactory's sights and smells were a little daunting. She returned to Limsa in disgrace, but happened to sit in on a performance by dancers from Radz-at-Han, and one thing led to another. Where she found herself too shy to sing, Tajna has found she has no such difficulty when it comes to dance, and her size and strength translates to grace with surprising ease.

Furan Banjo joined the Rogues honestly, and worked as one of them for several years before a traveling group of bumbling adventurers caught their attention - Banjo decided to travel with them, just to see what trouble they could get into along the way. They've dabbled in a little bit of everything, but they always come back to the stabbers; they know what they like.

Bjarni Iryut just likes swords, and a gunblade is sort of like a sword, with the added bonus of "I don't have to keep track of where I put my shield yesterday."

[I don't currently have a "why" for Sleeping Smile being a RDM that isn't just "I'm gay," and Silent Fox likes to be a healer because she likes holding people's lives in her hands, that's all.]

13. What are their speech patterns like? more formal or informal?

Coeli: Sometimes overly formal. She's getting much better about that as of Shadowbringers; earlier on in the story, she can be borderline insufferable - part of this is trying to mask growing up in Limsa Lominsa, but most of it is just... Coeli. Ernaswys: Bubbly, informal, very Lominsan. Routinely swears in front of the leaders of nations. Prone to nicknames, prone to saying whatever's in her head, no matter how little sense it may make at the time. Ibakha: A bit stiff; Eorzean is a second language to her, and the Echo makes it even stranger. She tends to always be shouting. Not the best diplomat. Tajna: Quiet, a little halting. Tends to phrase things as a question because she isn't confident enough to try to push things on her own. Repeats things for clarification. Banjo: Doesn't talk much, prefers to watch and listen, only injecting suggestions when they think it'll be funny. Heavy Lominsan accent when they do speak, a little garbled. Bjarni: Also doesn't talk much; usually lets his twin do the talking, which is probably the worst thing he could possibly do. Smile: Very crisply polite, not quite as formal as her teammate, Coeli, but very to-the-point. Doesn't like small talk, prefers to get the job done and reap the rewards. Silent Fox: As the name suggests, she's quiet, but her words are always barbed. She can play a politician's game, though, and (along with her teammate, Rusted Knife) is usually more than capable of handling the more public elements of being a Warrior of Light (moreso than Erna or Ibakha, anyway).

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Pawn No More - FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 13: Check

Spoilers for Shadowbringers and Endwalker | Ao3

-

Even as she bleeds and spews light, sinlessness boiling ‘neath her skin, she refused to kneel. It’s frustrating. It’s infuriating. She's stupidly stubborn.

(It’s familiar, most heart-wrenching of all.)

In his true form, he cast doom and death upon her and her comrades, but her control of the aether is near-perfect. She can switch from filling his body with poisons and vulnerabilities, finding his wounds and exemplifying to crafting shields with strength he hadn’t witnessed in millennia, crackling with light from the run-off of her body. Between the dance of magic, light and dark, he can see her face. It’s hauntingly calm, as if the fates have already promised her victory, and merely needed to outlast him rather than claw her way through this battle for the right to exist like the maggot she insists to be.

(His memories of that face are a blur now. He can remember so clearly the way her rage and happiness once felt, heavy in his chest and mind. This fragment’s emotions, actions. It made his skin crawl at how uncannily similar it makes him feel. As if they were the same.

A trick of nostalgia and longing, he convinced himself. That’s all it could be. Little more than unconscious mimicry of what one once knew.)

“Emet-Selch!” she roared once the warrior and paladin fell. As the others practiced in the healing arts take to tending them, she picks up their mantle. From one perfect job into another, lighting crackling off her warrior stone. He swore he could hear drums of war pounding in the air as an ax fell into her palms.

It’s made of light, dripping red with guilt. He can feel the energy singeing the edges of his corporal form, raw and unfiltered. The pain of corrupting light a fuel and drug now, as she charged. Arch or lightning followed her every step.

(“You’re much too aggressive,” she said once over a board that he’s seen remade in world after world, time after time. “It will be your down-fall, I swear.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make such lofty observations.” He retorted. “At least I do not hide or stifle my aggressive tactics, like a certain someone.”

Her fingers clacked endlessly upon that hand-carved staff of wood and crystal. Her nails painted a similar sheen of crystalline blue as the pieces she guided into battle against his, his army a purple so deep it may very well be the void. Once a sound of deep annoyance, he’d grown accustomed, even enjoying it as it announced her arrival.

She eventually decided her move, nudging one of her few meager pawns ahead. She’s heavily outnumbered, but refused to forfeit.

“I try to play to my opponent. Even if that means playing in ways I’m not a fan of.”)

The memories bleed and blur into the now. The axe isn’t even fully formed, yet it cleaves him like butter, shredding away at his being. That same red hair curls and frames the face of someone he can only just remember, those blue eyes behind glass filled with shards of feelings he can’t decipher as his own turmoil within him. He wanted nothing more than to rip that head off her body and cast it into the abyss. Just so this skin-stealer stopped staring at him with eyes that weren’t hers to have.

(“What good is that if it means hiding who you are? What compels you?” He asked. He took the pawn and cast it with the rest, it falling carelessly onto its side. “I can think of nothing worse than pretending, putting on a persona for every person you meet.”

“And how can you be sure you know the other person well?” Everything about her is kind and soft but her words. Pointed and bluntly true, she spared not herself or him. Her hand hovered over the board, ready to move her king into the line of fire. The game was done in all but formality.

“You say that as if people change who they are on coin.”

“I say that wondering if you can open your one-track mind up to accept the change of others, and the changing of their minds. Or else you might end up lonely, mistaking friends for strangers.” She doesn’t move her king. She moved the pawn into the corner of the board. It reached its zenith, and before their eyes transformed into the mighty queen piece. In taking the previous pawn, he’s right in her line of fire.

He was in check. The game was truly over.

“Or maybe it’s not the change of others I’m asking about.” She pondered as if she were alone, speaking to herself. “Maybe it’s what was always there and no one ever got to find out. Because they are afraid or too blinded to know or want to know.”)

She tried to tell him something that day, and he never figured out what.

The auracite burned. The light burned. Burning, burning, burning. He’s filled with memories that aren’t his, as all of who he was faded. The Warrior of Light of this world, whose axe of light overwhelmed him. The Lightwarden’s his pawn had absorbed. A warrior woman with locks of blonde and a voice of thunder and blood that lusted for battle.

And Halditar. In a flash, he saw her life. He saw pain, and fear, and ills of the Source. He saw her grow, build who she was that stood before him now. The willingness to hear him speak and ask him questions, to know and learn when her scion brethren did not. To seek answers, even if she may not like them.

And for all his pain, almost eternal, he felt no regret or longing in her soul. He felt her peace. How she ebbed and flowed to attain it. It was not perfect. Her happiness was not perfect. Yet it felt as eternal as he knew it.

(“I hope,” she said as she packed their game, treating each piece as gently as the other. “That you can find it in yourself to change your mind, too. With yourself and others.”)

He was suddenly before the Warrior of Light, fading into the aether. She stared at him with eyes kind and regretful because even with every right to rage; she struggled to hate. That’s who she had always been, and who she still was.

Clear as day now, it was not the light that played tricks on him. It was her. How much she changed, how much she stayed the same, and he had been oblivious to it. His chest ached with so many regrets he wished to spill. The opportunity to reunite laid to waste. ‘Forgive me, for having my last moments be selfish.’ He prayed to her. He unstuck his tongue, and asked-.

[buoyfriend]

29 - The Final Days of the Thirteenth Shard

Our world had dragged on for so long. Years after that horrid crack sounded from the earth, we found ways to survive. We found food, we found shelter, we kept each other alive for as long as we could. We had forsaken our gods, praying to one alone. We held parades, we listened to every word, we sacrificed her emissaries to dutifully honor her. Still, we could not forestall the final days.

My village was small, not for lack of trying. I was the last to be born, the very last of my kind. When I was called that, they would not count the one other.

My very first memory was the first of many events where we gathered in the square at the center of town. Every year, our foul goddess would choose to speak to us. Etro's blessing, a young girl, the oracle, trotted out before us to speak the goddess' words to the rest of us. It was never anything of substance, just continued pleas for hope amid the end of things, the final days for us all.

My grandmother told me once before bed about the day they all knew it would be over. For years before that, there was dread. Fighting over resources, petty regional conflicts over land. But one day, a sharp crack met the ears of all. Across our entire world, a crack like a scream coming from the planet itself. Sometime after, the crops began to fail. In a sick twist of fate, it mattered little because there were fewer people to feed.

Children arrived earthside without taking their first breath, many couldn't fall pregnant in the first place. Try and try as they might, no more children were born in our village or any other. I was the very last.

--

I was a small boy, maybe five summers. My mother scraped a comb through my hair to be presentable for the oracle. I scowled, kicked my legs, cried. I didn't see the point of it then, and I would loathe the event more as time wore on. No expense was spared this year. The previous oracle had passed some years before as they are wont to do after seventeen summers. Finally, our new oracle was ready to speak before us.

A band played music too loud for my ears, dead flower petals showered before the priests as they walked ahead of her. Finally, after much fanfare, I spied a palanquin emerging as I watched on from my father's shoulders. A girl, purple haired as all oracles. About my age. She cried and shrieked, frightened by the crowd. She spoke her same speech, a plea for hope at the end of things. Rejection of the final days.

--

My father passed in my fifteenth summer, his body failing him like the world around him. I watched him by the firelight, coughing and straining as he passed from nature into eternity. I didn't cry then, I watched my mother cry for us both.

He trained me with his bow for years before that. I'd had my own, but I took up his after we laid him to rest in the barren fields. I traveled far to hunt. Few animals remained, choosing their odds of survival in the deepest forests away from the ruins of civilization.

It was there that I found the oracle. Purple haired, legs dangling in a rushing river. "You'll get caught up in the water if you're not careful" I said from a few yalms behind her. She shook her head, escaping whatever daydream she had been caught up in. She stood slowly, not breaking her eye contact with me. She was beautiful, her eyes the green of my forests. The oracle backed away slowly as she raised her arms, shaking heavily. "I'm Noel, you must be the oracle."

She wouldn't answer me. She turned to run, but not as carefully as me. She tripped on one of the many traps I'd set, thankfully the least lethal of them. I caught up to her, straining to free her leg from the trap. She shuddered as my skin brushed hers. I wondered if she had ever had contact with a person outside of the temple.

"Let me go!" she cried.

"I'm trying!"

"They'll be angry if they know I left."

"I'm sure. Here, I'll hold it open if you can pull your leg."

She whimpered before her soft sound gave way to a scream as she pulled her limb away from the steel trap. Her leg was absolutely mangled.

"I-I can't go back like this." she stuttered, her eyes welling with tears.

"Here, I'll run back to town and grab some supplies. Let me...hm." I paused to open my bag, but none of my supplies would help in the short term. I took off my sash and wrapped on her leg. She followed my gesture to rest against a tree as I brought her my bag to prop her leg upon.

--

I returned, and gratefully she got to keep her leg! Jokes aside, she returned many times after that. Not immediately, of course. Some months after, she would return to tell me about her ruse to hide her injury. She insisted to the priests that Etro had called her to meditate deeply in silence and solitude for a period of months. She opted to wear long robes in this quest, all to hide her healing injury.

She told me much and more after that. I showed her the locations of my traps, and she found me safely on each of my hunts. I showed her how to use my bow, in return she told me how foul it was to be an oracle. The dismissiveness of her eternal guardian, Caius, the coldness he showed her.

"It's probably not a pleasant experience to raise a child every seventeen years only to watch them die." I told her.

"Certainly. Still, it's so lonely. I wish..." she paused to gaze out at the same river I'd first spied her at. "I wish I really knew anyone. I wish I could speak as myself, not a mouthpiece for some fickle goddess. Even you, you just call me 'The Oracle'"

"You've never told me your name, you just complain about being a pampered prince-oh, forgive me, oracle."

"Yeul. My name is Yeul."

--

Yeul loathed Etro. She loathed the visions Etro showed her, of our skies burning red, of stars crashing into the surface of our world, of every day people becoming foul beasts. She told me her deepest wish.

"If I could end all of this and set the world right, I think I'd live on a beach."

"A beach? How do you even know what a beach is?"

"I've seen them in books. There's a painting of one in my favorite story. I think I'd fish all day."

"I'd fish with you, I'm quite good."

"So I've seen. Would you live with me?"

I blushed at her suggestion. She was truly quite beautiful. Her face was so soft, her eyes so kind. At the world's end, we cast off tomorrow. We had cast off yesterday. I hadn't considered anyone to be a lover, nearly everyone was vastly older than me. I hadn't considered Yeul, she was approaching her seventeenth summer. I knew that she would die, and that she was not mine. She belonged to our horrid little village at the end of the world.

"I would, if you'd have me."

"Then we'd live there, on the beach. And we'd fill the whole house with babies."

My face grew hot. "I-Yeul" I stuttered. She laughed heavily, more heartily than any day past. I softened at the sight of her. "Is seven enough?" I asked. "No, fourteen. Twenty."

--

Our village was small, but not for lack of trying. My visits with Yeul were weekly until they were every few days, until they were daily. She had become skilled at sneaking out of her prison to navigate the forests. We built a small...house is too generous a word. But it was ours. We built a small house in the forest. I met her there every day to insist my love for her, to try to give her all she wanted. I gave her myself, I gave her my dignity as I apologized for my inexperience. She gave me her forgiveness in my fumbles and my overexcitement.

--

Our visits ended with a visit from Caius himself. I proudly marched into our home in the trees to find not my lover, but her guardian.

"Yeul is not as clever as she thinks. Neither are you, boy."

I tensed as I watched the man sit atop our makeshift bed. He bounced slightly, judging the craftsmanship. "I will not tell your parents, nor the priests, nor the village." he said, eyes washing over Yeul's things on a shelf.

"How did you find this place?"

"Like I said, she is not as clever as she thinks. She leaves a clear trail, never thinking how it came to be that she could escape in the first place."

My brow raised, he answered my silent question "How do you think it was that she could leave the temple in increasing frequency? How is it that the windows are left unlocked, that the gate is left attended at the correct hour?"

"Why would you help her leave?"

"Do you really think I'm so cruel, boy? I have watched her live and die. I have watched her take her first breaths and her life a thousand, thousand times. Do you think I wish this? Do you think this was my choice? Do you really think me so stupid that I would choose to be the puppet of a foul god?"

To tell the truth, I hadn't thought much of him at all. He was simply part of the parade that rolled through my town each year, an obstacle to Yeul reaching me. "No, sir."

"Relax, Noel. If you wish to see her again- yes, I would allow you to see her. If you wish to see her again, you must prove that you can do what is required."

"I would do anything."

"I hope for us both that is true."

--

I spied Yeul in the temple. Her eyes widened as she saw me walk with Caius, mouthing words I couldn't interpret. Every day, I trained with him. I thought that I was good with my bow, but Caius proved my inability with knives and swords. I read until my eyes burned, I punched targets until my hands bled.

"When will this be done?" I asked through panting breaths.

"You will receive the Heart of Chaos when you can prove that you deserve it." he replied.

"What does that take?"

"Everything."

I loathed his riddles. When I thought he might not be watching, though I'm sure he always watched from some distance, I explored the temple. I found my way to Yeul's chambers. Incense burned, hanging thick in the air. I found her paintings, paintings of me as I nocked my bow in focused determination. So many paintings of me, of my village. One of a cottage on a beach.

I heard her footsteps rushing towards me as her door slammed shut. She held me tightly, arms wrapping around me from behind my back. "How did you get in here?" she said in a bitter whisper.

"I came with Caius."

"Why?" she begged.

"I'm going to...I'm going to take on the Heart of Chaos. To be eternal like him."

"I-I just...Noel, why would you do something so stupid?"

"To free you from this."

"He's been alive for an eternity and he can't."

"Because he won't, because he hasn't tried everything. Yeul, if I had that kind of time, I would...I would do anything."

--

Our world had dragged on for so long. Years after that horrid crack sounded from the earth, we found ways to survive. We found food, we found shelter, we kept each other alive for as long as we could. We had forsaken our gods, praying to one alone. We held parades, we listened to every word, we sacrificed her emissaries to dutifully honor her. Still, we could not forestall the final days.

I trained from sunrise to sunset every day. My grandmother passed, my mother passed. I vowed that Yeul would not. The sky began to burn red, the laws of nature twisted as the gentle animals of our forest became foul beasts. Soon, our remaining people would find the same fate, our dread made manifest. They grew fearful, descending into madness before they transformed. The land buckled, our village burned, the waters ran red with blood. What little we had left fell away, naught was left but the temple.

On the final day, the beasts began to breach the walls of the temple. I dragged Yeul behind me as we ran to the crypts. I felled beast after beast, friend after friend. Neighbor after neighbor. I begged that I would not fall to my despair, that I could remain to protect her.

It was too late. Yeul had begun to lose control of herself for some time, I prayed that some way, some how, she could hold on longer. Perhaps she was special, perhaps by sheer force of will, I could keep her from the fate that had befallen every oracle I could.

She collapsed as I sealed the crypt's door behind us. I ran to catch her, to hold her as the light began to leave her. I held her tightly in both arms, begging her not to leave. I begged her not to leave me here at the end of the world. The walls of the crypt began to crumble around us, rocks falling from the ceiling.

She looked into my eyes, and I caught hers. Deep forests, piercing through me. She sang softly, "Valhalla is calling me to the end, I can hear now the beating hearts of lost friends" I promised her, I would see her alive again. I would find her. I would break this cycle, and we would find our home on the beach.

A splitting headache overtook me, I lost my vision until I found myself somewhere else. I thought perhaps I'd died, that a rock had hit my head. I was weightless, swimming in a sea of stars before a crystal as tall as the buildings of old. A voice called out to me, "Welcome and well met, my brave little spark. She heard your promise and the gods heard it too."

"The gods?"

"Yes, my poor, suffering dear. I would offer you another chance. Another chance to make good on your words."

I searched for a face, a body, anyone. Anyone to unleash my fury upon. "Another chance? I will not-I will not hear this farce. Now you choose to offer help?" I struggled, to no avail.

"Do not struggle, my sweet child. I will take your soul to the beginning of things, to the days before this madness. l will give you another chance and bear you to a perfect world, a world unsundered. Your souls together, whole, you can stop the Final Days before it ever begins."

I weighed her offer. How could I trust Etro, foul and fickle? How could I trust this god that would birth new oracles, throwing them into the fire since time immemorial? She spoke to me again, "If you fail, the world will be sundered once more. The tragedy that has befallen this star will take place once again. You will be caught in the same cycle of time, like Yeul, like Caius. You will live and die, struggling against fate."

I would not fail, I could not. Even if I tried many times, I had promised her I would break her cycle of death and rebirth. I would give her peace, fishing on the beach, a house full of life. She asked me "What would you do to make good on your promise to her?"

I had trained, I had given all I had. I had given Yeul all of myself. Still, I would do more. I would have done any task Caius asked of me, I would have hoped against hope to give Yeul her wishes.

"I would do anything."

[autumnslance]

Out of curiosity, with the crossover events such as FFXV, DragonQuest, Yokai etc etc etc, I do wonder... how "canon" are they? For example, I was considering my Miqo'te might pick up a rudimentary version of RDM from having done all that warping around with Noctis before getting formal training, but does that seem a bit... eeeeh? Know what I mean?

I think like a lot in this game, they're as canon as one wants them to be!

They certainly take pains to put them feasibly in the world. It's of an interesting note I think that the Noctis FFXV event is specifically "set" at the end of ARR but before HW, given Cid's attire. And funnily, that's about the same time one can pick up RDM--right near the end of ARR, as soon as one is level 50 in another job.

We know that FF chars do travel back and forth all the time for Dissidia; the Kefka minion description even mentions: "Other than a vague claim by Y'shtola that the doll you discovered in Omega's Sigmascape seems 'eerily familiar...'"

Some of these wandering visitors go home; others, like Iroha from FFXI, don't seem to get that chance. In her recently replayed event, I noted the parallels in discussion:

[Remumu: <sigh> There goes the greatest story I'll never get to write. An adventurer from another world, traveling back in time to save her people. Who's going to believe such a silly tale? I'll leave the flights of fancy to Petyr. But for her sake, I hope she finds her way home, wherever that may be.]

Sounds an awful lot like certain Shadowbringers main plotlines and characters, doesn't it? Maybe all the Crystal-related worlds are just shards of each other in some ways, or at least related.

Given that, how far "out there" would such events be as canon, given the actual canon of this Anime RPGMMO? My answer is "not very far off at all" and write what you want concerning picking up styles and knowledge from visitors from other mothercrystals!

[ancientechos]

Emet x Arianna headcanons

Emet-Selch x Arianna headcanons that no one asked for under the cut. Actually a lot of this is mainly how their relationship develops during Shadowbringers. That being said there’s some major spoilers for the expansion, especially the ending, so, like — don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled.

Tried to be as chronological as possible but it’s still rambly nonsense.

Updated as of 9/22/20 with 5.0-5.3 stuff!

Emet was ambivalent of Arianna at first. She seemed like nothing more than a timid woman with far too much power behind her.

As time went on, however, he began to grow curious of her. Especially seeing her write constantly in those journals of hers. She never wants to show him what she writes, but that’s not really any concern of his.

Their first proper interaction, Arianna toward Emet as opposed to being mediated by any of the scions or anyone else, was when she left him a note of thanks for saving Y’shtola. He keeps the note. For no reason.

The next time he visits her room, Emet accidentally spies some of her unattended papers. As he reads, it turns out to be — things about Amaurot, things that she should never know. She writes about Hades, Persephone, and other names that should have never even crossed her mind.

She’s understandably upset when she sees him reading her writing, but he apologises. Asking her where she gets her inspiration, she suggests they use telepathy to converse. He makes a temporary link with her.

Arianna explains she has no idea “where” these ideas come from, specifically…she just has them. Emet inquires as to who she is most drawn to in her writings, and she comments that Hades is rather charming. He reminds her of him.

The bond breaks when Arianna’s embarrassment overtakes her, and Emet leaves. However, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he begins visiting her more frequently.

She makes him herbal teas. They have long conversations on all manner of subjects. She is extremely curious to hear all about Amaurot — his brief history lesson did not sate her. He is happy to hear his own voice and she is happy to listen to him.

Later on, she asks him to renew their link so they might speak further even around others. At first, most of the scions don’t notice due to her naturally spacey and unresponsive nature. However, Y’shtola is the first to make comment of this. She is understandably concerned, even moreso when Arianna explains the link was of her own request.

During their conversations, Arianna not only listens, but answers questions. She begins thinking more critically as opposed to being uninterested in anything else going on around her. She starts participating in conversations with the scions as opposed to simply waiting for others to make decisions for her.

As Arianna crawls more and more out of her shell, her mannerisms begin to remind Emet more and more of Persephone. He’s more and more certain that he’s been interacting with a shade of her all this time. But he can’t afford to admit that he’s fallen in love with a mortal shell.

When she can’t hold the light, he’s disappointed. Because this means she’ll die. But perhaps in the end, it’s better this way. She didn’t have all her potential after all...so better to have them all out of their misery, no?

He brings her to Amaurot with him. With the pain subsiding somewhat, Arianna tries to speak with him, asking if there’s truly no other way. Her questions agitate him, so he leaves; but he doesn’t cut off their connection completely. He simply refuses to respond. That’s when she wanders Amaurot on her own, and meets Hythlodaeus.

Once Emet regains his composure, he returns to her. They speak about Amaurot, and shortly after the scions arrive.

Emet forces himself to put on his mask and tries to goad her into attacking him in the final battle. But Arianna’s pleading with him that she doesn’t want to die, that she wants to spend time with him, cuts through to him, and he ends up helping her withstand the light.

The experience leads to Emet becoming untempered from Zodiark.

Somewhere between patch 5.0 and patch 5.1, things grow a little awkward as Emet retreats slightly out of guilt. However, Arianna confessing her feelings toward him causes him to deflate somewhat, and shortly after their relationship can “officially” begin.

Whilst Emet doesn’t think of Persephone as much anymore, he still needs time to process the changes with the shards and the people within them. He doesn’t make a move in helping Arianna with Elidibus.

Over time during patch 51, he slowly begins to realise that these people aren’t so worthless after all. Even limited, they can still accomplish great things. And perhaps Arianna is right, that there’s a way for everything to go back to normal without all this death. He no longer tries to convince her the rejoining -- as he knows it -- is the be all end all.

He begins to attempt to convince Elidibus of Arianna’s perspective. Elidibus, however, simply thinks he’s grown soft and weak, and that he’s lost all the conviction he’s had over the years.

Concerned  interacting with Elidibus overmuch might result in him being tempered anew, he limits most of his communications with him. Additionally, he’s completely confident Arianna can combat him if it were necessary.

After her first confrontation with Elidibus, he gives Arianna her Uriel crystal and talks to her about the other convocation crystals with Hythlodaeus.

During the Gauntlet dungeon, he attempts once more to convince Elidibus to cease his actions, though this falls on deaf ears. He ends up having to break Arianna out of her shackles after Elidibus seals her away.

[yetanotherfanficblog]

Part

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Pyotyr Ilych (Male Duskwight Elezen Warrior of Light), Y’shtola Rhul

Rating/Warnings: PG (Mentions of Violence and Death)

Summary: Pyotyr considers the ramifications of the battle for the fate of the First, and the marks it has left upon his soul. Written for ffxiv write 2020 prompt #14. Spoilers for the Shadowbringers MSQ.

---

Pyotyr Ilych, Warrior of Darkness, had much to consider. The identity of the Crystal Exarch. The strange and wondrous sight of the ancient city of Amarout, and the combination of fear and of longing, and of mourning for something lost, or stolen, or forgotten, that suffused his chest when he remembered those tall spires. The last words of Hades, of Emet-Selch.

But for now, he focused on his hand, held above him, fingers splayed, as he leaned back in a chair at his kitchen table, in his quarters at the pendants. For a long moment, he held it there, staring at the back of those long, delicate, fingers as if the pattern of scrunched skin on his knuckles might unlock the secrets of creation.

He was only barely roused from his reverie by a knock at the door.

"Come In!" he called, still looking at his hand. The door opened to admit his fellow Scion, Y'shtola Rhul, lately known as Master Matoya of the Night's Blessed.

She looked at the Elezen splayed out on the chair before her, hand in the air, and cleared her throat delicately, "Are... you quite alright, Pyotyr?"

"Oh!" Pyotyr shook his head, as if snapped out of a dream into waking, he lowered his hand quickly, tugging his garments into places as he rose from his chair, "Y'shtola! Come in, Come in! What a pleasant surprise, I thought you were on your way back to Slitherbough!"

"I was planning to be," Y'shtola said, taking the proffered invitation and sweeping into the room, "But I decided I'd best stock up on certain reagents and research materials before I returned, and the markets won't have all of them ready until the morrow."

Pyotyr smiled, "So, one more day in the Crystarium, and you choose to spend a part of it with me? You honor me."

Y'shtola smiled back, with a bit of a sigh, "None of that, now, Pyotyr. You're one of my dearest friends, and I hadn't seen you in years, and only days ago, I thought we might lose you forever."

Pyotyr grinned, "But I am here, and feeling better than ever. Available to brew a potion, heal a wound, slay a monster, or discuss aetheric theory with a dear friend over a cup of tea. Shall I pour you one?" He walked breezily over to the stove, where a kettle had indeed just begun to pipe, and began bustling about grabbing a pair of cups and a small tin of tea leaves from a nearby cupboard.

"Tea sounds wonderful," Y'shtola said tentatively, sitting down at one of the small but sturdy wooden chairs at the kitchen table, smoothing her skirts, "but are you sure?"

"What, sure I want tea?" Pyotyr said, without looking back, focused on packing the leaves into their tea balls, "Of course I am. We've spent too many nights at the Rising Stones poring over old tomes together over a cup for you to doubt that, haven't we?"

"No," She said with a sigh, "Are you sure you're alright? You looked rather distracted when you came in."

Pyotyr turned, now carrying two cups of steaming hot beverage on a small platter, and he smiled a small sad smile as he bought them to the kitchen table, setting one in front of Y’shtola, taking the other in his hands as he sat down beside her.

"Hm," he mused, "I suppose that is a fair question. And a hard one to answer. I feel... physically fine. Without the weight of that extra aether, I feel as light as feather. Yet, I feel more solid, more real, than I ever have before. It... sounds strange, but I feel like there is more of me."

Y'shtola took a sip of her tea, a thoughtful look on her face, "More? Yes, your aether looks repaired, but also... stronger. More solid. I suppose in some ways, you are... more."

"But," she continued, "I have a feeling that isn't all there is to it, is there?"

Pyotyr took his own sip of tea, then nodded at her, "Your instincts have always been sharp, my dear Miss Y'shtola."

He let out a long breath, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing, "When I say I feel like there is more of me, I find myself... somewhat terrified at what that might mean."

"Terrified? You have always been one the bravest, most steadfast persons I know. I know people change, but I cannot forsee that changing about you too soon."

Pyotyr smiled softly, "You flatter me, Y'shtola. But.... no, for whatever I am, I will continue to be loyal to the Scions, a defender of Eorzea as long as people of good will inhabit her land. But... I am, or thought I was, Pyotyr Ilych, Son of Vylbrand, Scholar, Scion, Alchemist, Doctor, and Friend. It was all I ever aspired to be, even if the tides of war and fate have swept me up into larger things than I ever dreamed of as a Limsan street rat."

"Emet-Selch," he continued, after another sip of tea, "seemed to recognize me as someone. I'm still not sure if he wanted me to desperately be his old friend, or hated with all his might that I might be his old friend."

"The possibility of reincarnation has been considered by scholars and believed in by many societies over the years," Y'shtola said, "But most of them believe you are who you are in the present. No matter how you reincarnated, or if you reincarnted, you are still you."

"Perhaps," Pyotyr said, "But It is strange to know who else you might have been... who else you might be, when you never expected to be anyone else... and beyond that. Ardbert."

"He was a part of you," Y'shtola said, a small acknowledgement, a nod of the head.

"Yes. My shard, my counterpart, here on the First. Whoever Emet-Selch recognized, we were both parts of him. And now Ardbert is part of me. Our souls are rejoined, parts of the person who Emet-Selch used to know."

Pyotyr drained the rest of his teacup before continuing, "And now I wonder. Where does he end and I begin? Shall I find myself possessed of that bravado? Of that desperation? Shall memories and thoughts of Braden and Lamitt and Renda-Rae and Nyelbert crowd out memories of Alphinaud and Y'shtola and Thancred and Urianger and Alisaie? And what of the person Emet-Selch knew? Now that I am closer to that person, now that I have come closer to what the Ancients were, what the Ascians are... shall I find myself forgetting myself and Ardbert alike? Will I be seized with a dangerous nostalgia for a past world? Shall I find myself wandering ruins of the past in anger and lust? Emet-Selch asked me to remember, Ardbert and his comrades deserve to be remembered as the heroes they were, and I want to. I want to remember them. I want to remember them. But I want to remember ME, too. How can I make sure I still remember me, that I am still Pyotyr, when I have had so many other people thrust upon me now?"

His hands dropped to his knees, and his face dropped with them, just a bit, as if he might be trying to hide his eyes, and he fell silent again.

Y'shtola closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, then opened then. She leaned across the space between them, and placed a hand over Pyotyr's right hand, then scooped it up gently with the other, cradling it between her palms.

"I have watched your aether closely ever since we reunited," she said, "And I watched it even back on Eorzea, before the Exarch's summons took me. I know you, Pyotyr Ilych, not just as a beloved friend, but on a very elemental level. Ever since you were able to harness the light against Hades, you have been exactly as I remember from Eorzea, only more so."

"More so...?" Pyotyr raised his chin a bit, to look at her with shining eyes.

"Your pattern shines bright against the gaps, but it always has. And it has always been your pattern. Whoever you used to be, whoever you have been joined to. Your journey has tempered you in its own way. You have gained strength. You have gained comrades. You have gained wounds and healed wounds alike. But you have always shown the qualities that shine brightest in you, the compassion, the bravery, the will to fight to protect the weak. In all those ways, You are still  the man I met so long ago, in the Grotto near Summerford Farms."

Pyotyr chuckled at that, "I remember it well. Your little history lesson on the Sailor's Requiem made me feel like I was back in school, then helped me defeat that poor goobbue, then handed me a knife, spoke a few cryptic words, and left me standing there, mouth agape."

Y'shtola smiled back, "See? Just as a sweet and sassy as you ever were, Pyotyr Ilych. And in my defense, I did come back for you."

Pyotyr chuckled, "And swept me up into a world I never imagined. All because I wanted to know why some of my old shipmates had been kidnapped. Despite such strange beginnings, I can't say I would have traded any of it for the world. Thank you, My Mysterious Cultured Conjurer, for noticing such an unlikely adventurer."

Y'shtola chuckled herself at that, and squeezed Pyotyr's hand, "Unlikely or no, I can't imagine anything up until now would have gone as well as it has without you. Whatever else happens, you are still a Scion. We will be besides you, and we will always remind you of who you are: Our hero, our exemplar, and most importantly, our Beloved friend."

Pyotyr now smiled, a true, unguarded grin, as he squeezed Y'shtola's hand back in return, "Alright. You've convinced me. I'll put aside my worries, at least for now. But... I think it will be a few hours before I feel like going to bed. Would you perhaps, stay with me, My dear Miss Y'shtola? We can talk of old times, or you can tell me stories of your time here in the First."

"I can think of no better way to pass the time, my dear old friend," Y'shtola answered back.

And so they sat, the two friends, the two veterans, speaking of all the adventures they had been a part of, past and present, and even into the future, long into the night.

[illegiblewords]

Recent Shadowbringers story has me speculating a bit on Convocation of the Fourteen relative to mythology and I think I got stuff.

Heads up this spoils like crazy.

IIRC it got confirmed that the Convocation members got Greek names, although I don’t remember if they were all named for the pantheon or not.

But since Hades gets referred to using abilities known as Titanomachy in particular I’m gonna lean hard toward YES.

Who is which god though? What’s even happening? I have a few ideas and in order to explore ‘em a bit will list the names and details that strike me as particularly important. A point of note though, Hades is not an Olympian within mythology. One of the original gods born of Rhea and Cronos yes, but he literally drew the short stick that said “congrats you get to live alone among the dead have fun”.

Zeus: Youngest of six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Drew lots with Poseidon and Hades, wound up getting dominion over the sky as king of the gods. Had loads and loads of sex. Strongly affiliated with lightning.

Hera: Hands down has the title of pissiest of the gods, which is fuckin’ saying something. This is like 98% because she’s the goddess of marriage, childbirth, women, family, and fidelity while being married to Zeus the fuckhead. Youngest daughter of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Associated with the peacock. Commonly transformed her husband’s lovers into animals and IIRC had some ties to storms but I might be misremembering. Also notable for having given birth to Ares with Zeus legitimately (who no one likes except Aphrodite) and Hephaestus alone. She threw Hephaestus down the side of a mountain because he came out ugly iirc.

Poseidon: God of the seas, water, storms, earthquakes, and horses. Middle son of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos, when he drew straws with Zeus and Hades he got dominion over the oceans.

Demeter: Goddess of the harvest, fertility, motherhood, agriculture, nature, and the seasons. Middle daughter of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Hades abducted and married her daughter Persephone and she got next level pissed about it, made the world cold and barren (winter) until Persephone was returned.

Athena: Born from Zeus and Metis, confirmed more powerful than Zeus. Metis had a prophecy where any child she bore would be more powerful than the father, so of course Zeus had to stick his dick in that. Later became filled with regret and fear when it turned out Metis was pregnant, turned her into a fly and ate her. Fast forward a bit and Metis gives birth to Athena inside of Zeus, and Athena explodes fully formed and adult complete with armor out of Zeus’ head. Athena has some duality with Ares as they’re both war gods and both technically born from Zeus. Athena is goddess of wisdom, handicraft (like weaving), and strategic warfare. Virgin goddess.

Apollo: God of the sun/light and the arts, also certain kinds of performance including music, poetry, philosophy. Notable in that his golden arrows were not nearly so painful as the silver ones favored by Artemis. Twins with Artemis. Also majorly known for being associated with both plague and healing as well as prophecy. Prophecy comes up in particular through the Oracle of Delphi. Notably the reason to Dionysus’ madness in some philosophy.

Artemis: Goddess of the hunt, twins with Apollo, uses silver arrows that hurt like a motherfucker compared to the golden ones her brother favors. A virgin goddess associated with the moon, wilderness, childbirth, protection, and plague. Worth noting she could be super super pissy and did in fact turn a man into a deer to be mauled to death and eaten by his own hounds because he accidentally caught her bathing.

Ares: God of war as in slaughter and bloodlust, also of violence and “manly virtues” as in his dick r big. Has weird sibling energy with Athena because they represent dramatically different aspects of war. Only loved by Aphrodite, literally no one else likes him.

Aphrodite: Goddess of love and beauty and fucking, top tier manipulator, also affiliated with pleasure, passion, fertility, and desire. Married to Hephaestus but not at all happy about it, has a pretty open affair with Ares. Sometimes she’s a daughter of Zeus but usually she was born from the universe’s castrated dick being thrown into the ocean and making a ton of sea foam which became her.

Hephaestus: Smith of the gods, master craftsman and god of the forge. Also associated with invention, fire, and volcanos. Didn’t really cheat on Aphrodite despite her cheating on him hard. Was rejected by his mother Hera for being too ugly and was literally crippled by her.

Hermes: Messenger of the gods, a trickster, god of travelers and athletes, guide to the dead, has fucking WILD cults dedicated to him to this day including fucktons of alchemists and just Hermeticism as a whole. In other words also the god of new age and magicK. Not magic, emphasis on the k because that’s what the modern magicians in their funny hats do when they’re feeling edgy.

Hestia: Eldest of six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Goddess of the hearth, being fire and the home. Has probably the least amount of drama out of all the gods ever, and while that isn’t necessarily saying a lot she seriously had no drama. Possibly relinquished her seat among the Olympians to Dionysus in some stories. Was notably a virgin and had a major following of priestesses in Rome consisting of the Vestal Virgins.

Dionysus: If there is a god of chaos and insanity besides Eris it is him. God of drunks and performance and opulence/excess/parties, notably has a philosophical contrast with Apollo as the madness to his reason. Top hedonist. Has a group of violently crazy women who worship him called the Bacchantes. Do not understate violently crazy bit they have torn people to shred with their bare hands.

Hades: We know this is Emet-Selch already and have more lore on how he visualizes souls/the Lifestream (interesting term given rivers of the dead in Greek myth, though not exclusive concept to Greek myth)/the Underworld. Eldest son of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos, though he is younger than Hestia.

Another point of note--there are, classically, TWELVE Olympian gods and then Hades. Why then one extra and how suspicious is that with our Convocation of 14?

Normally, like I mentioned Hestia is an original member who essentially gives her seat up for Dionysus. But she’s also a much quieter goddess within mythological stories, so while she could be included it’s also possible that another god or goddess is being used to reach fourteen.

First, I’m gonna go on a limb here and say I think Lahabrea is either Apollo or Ares, but leaning heavily toward Apollo. The orator thing fits, his role within being crazy good/productive in creating concepts makes some sense (I mentioned possibly Ares because he has an affinity for certain weapons too which makes me squint), and with how much the Ascians have referenced things being foretold or prophesized at least one of them is required to have ties with that ability. Additionally, Apollo being tied to plague when there the Terminus event going on and people are speculating that creation magics had something to do with the cause has me unbelievably suspicious.

I am also going to say that I think it’s possible Elidibus is Hermes. Emissary-->Messenger as well as having a pattern of being a trickster or liar makes a lot of sense. Also interesting in that one of his other functions is as psychopomp, or escort of the dead. I wouldn’t be shocked if he was the one responsible for raising new sundered Ascians.

I also think that if Lahabrea is Apollo, Igeyorhm might really be Artemis for that twin thing + their Ascian Prime misadventure. The impulsivity makes a bit of sense for her too, as does the fact that she fucked up the entire thirteenth shard while being tied to plague. If I thought Lahabrea was Hermes I’d have pitched Igeyorhm as Aphrodite purely because it’s myth canon they made a hermaphroditic child together one time, but I don’t think that makes as much sense.

I don’t think the game is putting as much emphasis on the three kings setup for Ascians with Zeus/Poseidon/Hades because Lahabrea and Elidibus don’t really fit into the roles of Zeus or Poseidon either of them. FFXIV associates lightning with judgment in a cool way but it gets stressed really hard that Elidibus is just supposed to be an Emissary and Lahabrea has other gods he fits with better. I honestly think the ones who remained unsundered just happened to be the ones who got missed rather than that particular trio.

On WoL, there are plenty of fans having fun speculating that WoL is Persephone in the name of shipping lol. It’s maaaaaaaaybe possible because she’s goddess of spring, renewal, rebirth, nature, and the underworld. And she also goes back and forth between spending time with Hades and spending time with her mother. So that whole MIA thing might work.

Halmarut being all about plants I’ll bet 100% is Demeter. No one else makes sense.

Nabriales if he does use lightning like I remember might be Zeus, which explains his attempted sleaziness a bit and his inferiority complex being one of the sundered. But I’m a bit doubtful because he seems like he has too big of an ego to have potentially been in charge of Amaurot at any point ever. His personality and eagerness to fight remind me more of Ares. Also no one likes him lol. Dionysus strikes me as most likely overall because it would explain him being pissed at being under Lahabrea as well as his whole attitude.

Mitron is Poseidon. Cannot be anyone else, he is all about oceans and fishes. Strongest case for Elidibus and Lahabrea not being tied to the other two kings--Mitron literally cannot be anyone but Poseidon.

Who is WoL though?

Currently my big guesses are Dionysus if Nabriales isn’t (as a foil to Lahabrea-Apollo), Zeus (mightiest of the gods, lightning of judgment and huge badass), Persephone (the creation and underworld thing is neat and who even knows), maaaaaaaaaaybe Hestia because of the primordial light/fire bit, being oldest, and just not being about the drama.

I know basically nothing about Altima besides her being there but would be more inclined to figure her for Athena than any other goddess purely because SE seems to be going with matching gender stuff and with a name like Altima I’m doubtful about other goddesses fitting better. Hera is the only one beside Athena who could maybe own that.

If anyone else has knowledge/notes on Ascians and can chime in on what seems fitting feel free!