#like its not 'the oracle of light ryne' now its 'ryne the oracle of light' yk

[haunted-xander]

Started this months ago but procrastinated hard bc I didn't want to draw backgrounds </3

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2023 #8: Shed

(A/n: If its been perpetual Light without any other weather for 100 years, surely that means no seasons too? So I have to wonder how the First would feel about the world settling back into its old rhythm and the old seasons once they finally return. It must be so strange if they haven't seen snow or rain or ice in so long, or the changing leaves. So I really wanted to catch this sense of uncertainty, if most won't remember or even know about the concept.

Tho in this case, Almet might know, or she might not, depending on how old she is, but I've erred on the side of caution and assumed she's post-Flood birth.

Part of me just also feels like I miss the First and Ryne, even tho I know the very next patch is gonna have her feature in a way (small or otherwise, we don't know yet). I hope she's doing well, especially if she's still working hard for everyone. ;3;

Word count: 1385)

“Which way was it again?”

The blue flower path was certainly pretty, but it made for difficult travel when one forgot which fork in the road to follow to Fanow. Ryne unfortunately had forgotten, given the long while it’d been since she had visited the Viis town. The dense trees and the darkened shadows from the enveloping canopy didn’t help her bearings, unable to even see into the distance for a hint of life at the forest’s edge. She was travelling with a small guard, though unfortunately none had any experience with the forest as she had. Leaving her alone to shoulder the burden of navigation.

Her role as Oracle of Light had been changed somewhat, in light of the First’s new lease of life - she was something of an Emissary now for the Crystarium, often ensuring good relations between the various surviving settlements across Nordvrandt, both within each region and with the main city as a hub. Slitherbough didn’t have any issues with their neighbours, but she still wanted to check in with Fanow herself as well. If she could find it…

Fortunately for her, she wasn’t left stumbling around for much longer, as a voice broke through the leaf rustling ambiance.

“Hail, Oracle! It has been some time!” Looking up, and hearing the surprised chattering from her caravan behind her, Ryne smiled to see the familiar face of Almet standing upon a thick branch in the canopy. The woman leapt, traversing down the trunk with graceful bounds until she landed upon the petal strewn floor.

“Almet! It is good to see you,” Ryne greeted her, “I hope all has been well.”

“Of course. The forest has never been more peaceful since the night finally returned and the Sin Eaters numbered finally dwindled to nothing. I’m sure you could tell as much during your travels.” Ryne nodded, already breaking into chatter about their journey there and their reason for visiting, and idle introductions to the rest of her entourage.

“An Emissary is it? From one important duty to another, surely you of all of us have more than earned the rest after your deeds?” Almet said, shaking her head in awe.

“Many have told me, but I wouldn’t feel right just sitting doing nothing while everyone else did all the work,” Ryne replied.

“Well, that is your burden to bear, but I am pleased to see you continuing to look after the wellbeing of all on our star. Even coming all this way to check on Fanow, as cloistered away as we are here,” Almet nodded, coming to a stop by a wooden gateway arch. To Ryne’s surprise, they’d already reached the town’s entrance, unaware that Almet had led them along the way as they’d talked.

“Oh! I…Thank you. I’m sorry to say I seem to have forgotten the way,” Ryne said, flushing at her confession. Almet at least worse an understanding smile.

“Tis no worry. With how far you have travelled and how the forest has changed with the Light gone, I would be more surprised had you remembered. Feel free to come in and settle yourselves, someone will come and see you to a hut to rest yourselves so long as you are staying here,” Almet announced to the rest of the group. Ryne’s own nod to encourage them had them wasting no time entering the village, leaving the two alone.

“As much as I appreciate your hospitality, we hopefully shouldn’t stay too long. We wouldn’t want to impose, but we do have other places to visit as well.”

“You are certainly not imposing. We would always welcome you, as the allies of Ronka and the saviour of the star. But you of course have your duty as well. Allow us to at least see you well prepared for your journey,” Almet offered. Slitherbough had already offered to refill their supplies for the next leg of their journey after visiting Fanow, but more would always be nice. Sometimes to pass onto the next village they visited or even to the Crystarium’s supplies and stores when they returned.

They started up into canopy bound platforms, unperturbed at first of the wind that began to pick up – though Ryne did feel her stomach lurch as the boughs around her creaked and groaned from the strain. However they both came to a pause at a mumbling from a pair of nearby guard Viis leaning against the railing.

“It’s so different, how did it change so?”

“I don’t know, but it looks rather beautiful.”

“Ladies, is something amiss? Did something happen on your patrol?” Almet asked, making them both jump. As one of them frowned to see her surprise had crushed something in her grasp, the other held out a pristine leaf to show.

“Almet, it's so strange! The leaves are changing!” the guard stated. Almet took it in hand, brow furrowing at the discovery. Ryne peaked over, confused. The leaf was a bright vibrant orange, with dappled yellows along its lower half. A fan of leaves were thrust into her view, and she gaped at the sight; bright reds and yellows, more orange and faded gradients, and the normal greens were tinged brown along their edges.

“Is it not just from a peculiar tree?” she asked, trying to rationalise the strange appearance.

“Absolutely not, I’ve patrolled these same forests for 75 years, I know every tree in every corner,” the guard insisted, “This is new!”

“Almet, do you think the trees may be suffering an illness to cause this? Are they dying?” the other Viis asked, looking over the crushed remnants still in her hand with concern. Almet paused, still marvelling over the odd phenomena.

“No, I don’t think it is that,” she said carefully, “I can’t guarantee what this is for certain, though I may have an idea. I would like you to keep an eye out on your patrols, and inform the other groups of the same; if any more turn out like this or if anything else changes, let me know. But I appreciate this news.” The guards shared a look, then nodded and rushed off into the town.

The wind grew fiercer, and Ryne found herself shivering in its blast. Almet stood, letting it rustle through her hair and clothes.

“To think, it may finally be happening again,” she hummed, turning the leaf over in between her finger tips.

“What? What’s happening?” Noting the rising panic in Ryne’s voice, Almet smiled.

“Nothing to be worried about…or perhaps we should. But not for the reasons you may think, Oracle,” she said, “Tis the seasons. They may finally be cycling once again. The forest is changing.”

“Seasons? Changing?” Ryne had heard the concept somewhat, from Thancred - he’d mostly explained them briefly, how the sun would grow warmer, or the wind would grow colder at different times in the year. But in a world without shifting weather patterns, the notion didn’t really seem to be understood anymore.

“I remember tales from my mother, from before the Flood,” Almet explained, eyes growing distant as she recalled the memory, “She would talk about how the seasons would change the forest; how the animals would shift and move their nests and families, following their food as it too moved; how the grass would grow thick and green with the heat, and thin and wiry with the chill; and how they had different produce cycles for each passing moon, how they had to plant many crops in one season to keep people fed in the others, as less could be grown. 

“And I know these past 100 years, the Light has prevented any such changes. The temperature may have dropped or risen, but it was never enough, and the forest was still the same as ever, unchanging and silent.”

“So…the idea of these seasons returning is good?” Ryne asked. The wind blew through once more, and this time Almet let the leaf in her hand fly free with the gusts.

“Yes, I think it is. Perhaps we will struggle to adjust after so long without, but I believe we can do that. And it will be wonderful to see the world return to its original self once more,” she smiled, “You may have extra work for yourself now to prepare the world for these big changes to come.”

[tenuuchlegch]

ryne, placing a crown of daisies on odette’s head. she giggles after and crosses her arms. ‘ i like it. i made it for you ! ‘

         The empty had grown into a beautiful place, due to their tireless efforts. What once started off as an ivory wasteland (reminiscent of the burn amidst source) now was teaming with color and life. Would that only Thancred and Urianger could have beheld its splendor; seen their determination bear such a bountiful harvest. Duo would undeniably be proud, just as she was.

         Perhaps one day, when they deduced a way of crossing rift unhindered two men could witness it for themselves. Until that time however, Odtsetseg supposed voice would merely need to explain what details she could to them. These unspoken notions were interrupted, the moment she felt something fall on her forehead. Glancing up to witness the pink, white and yellow petals of blossoms, Ryne’s amusement quietly prompted xaela’s attention; grin evident upon her countenance. Leaning in to look at her reflection in the pond, regalement did not cease. In fact, a giggle escaped her. 

         “They are quite amazing, Ryne. Thank you.” Glancing around at the field, violet pools then espied where she deduced flowers originated from. “You know, I have never really dabbled in the art of flower crown making myself,” she confessed, before giving oracle of light an expectant expression. “Perhaps you can teach me? I promise to return the favor.”

[crossroadsdimension]

Cross couldn’t help but worry about Thancred as they left him behind to face Ran’jit alone. She didn’t like the idea of him putting himself in harm’s way.

At the same time, though, he was currently wielding the Gunblade, and she wasn’t. That extra armor padding would do him better than her Black Mage’s robes, and Minfillia needed someone at her back in case one of the local monsters tried to get the jump on her.

Still, Ran’jit was no joke. Hopefully, Urianger would get the twins and Y’shtola in time to back him up, or at least stall until she could get back and drive him off....

And then Cross and Minfillia were standing in the place the original Minfillia had been, one century ago. The vision Cross received was...at first confusing, then clear -- she’d had a glimpse of it before, on her first traveling to the First.

“Your time is not yet come.” Had been for Ardbert, not for her. Yet why had it come through as something from her perspective at first?

She didn’t get the chance to really ask. Nor did she know who to ask. It wasn’t like Minfillia, standing in that place of light, knew what was going through Cross’ head.

Still, seeing the original Oracle of Light, in the same place as the current Minfillia...and getting to see her, in one last moment.

Her, not Thancred, who had known Minfillia for much, much longer.

And then Minfillia proceeded to give some last-minute advice that Cross intended to hit Thancred over the head with later -- no doing things alone anymore, you do things together. Although, something told Cross the message wasn’t meant with the context of Thancred in mind...there was something else coming.

When Minfillia gave her all to her young successor, and Cross awoke in the sands of the desert, Minfillia looked...different. Her eyes no longer glowed with the force of the Crystal, and her hair had lost its golden sheen, instead turning the red of the desert.

The change surprised Cross, but she found it a good one -- no longer did Minfillia look like the person who could have possessed her. Rather, she looked like herself.

Still, Minfillia was hesitant to walk side-by-side as they made their way back to find Thancred and the others. Cross could’ve insisted that Minfillia ride her chocobo with her, but Minfillia disagreed.

“I’ll be fine,” Minfillia said. “I can handle myself, and I’ll just follow in your wake, where I know it’ll be safest. Go. I know you’re worried about him.”

Something about her words struck a chord, briefly, but Cross nodded and left the girl behind, as much as she hated to.

Thankfully, Thancred was alive and had seen his worst wounds tended to by their recently-arrived companions. Relief abounded when Cross returned, but it quickly turned to amusement when Cross ran up and kissed Thancred full on the mouth.

(”Don’t you ever do that again,” Cross told him when she broke the kiss. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Thancred blinked, looking breathless and startled. “I...ah...”

Alisaie broke into laughter. “Look at the bard, completely speechless for once!”)

Minfillia, true to her word, followed after Cross’ footsteps and finally made herself known.

When Thancred finally, finally showed his love and affection for her in more than just a pat on the head, but a kind smile and relief in his voice, Cross smiled as well. He’d finally come to accept things -- good.

And with that acceptance came a new name for his young charge, one free of the weight that Minfillia’s name carried. Cross chanted the name over and over in her head, making sure that she would call her Ryne when talking to the girl. No name mix-ups, she wanted to make sure of that.

But now -- they had a Lightwarden to find. Ryne said it was underground, and the others had found a point of entrance.

It was time to bring back the night to this light-blasted desert.

[herssian]

i don’t usually post my writing on here but i was sent a few asks about my WoL and shadowbringers has officially ended and it kicked my ass, so i chose to inflict this upon you (～￣▽￣)～ set right before 5.0 ends

『♢』『♢』『♢』

It was Minfilia who had first called you the Warrior of Light.

Well, maybe. You’re not certain if that’s true if you’re at all honest with yourself. You think, if you stop and ponder hard enough, that some other soul named you before she even met you, someone in one of your myriad quests helping strangers across Eorzea. That was back then, when tomorrow meant little and the learned motions of every new day, repeated heroic acts of slaying primals, helping city-states, bringing a small modicum of order to faces you didn’t know and would never meet again, was all that mattered.

All that was, in all fairness.

You still help strangers now, that much hasn’t changed, but it’s different. You’re not fresh-faced, for one. Minfilia is gone, for another.

But it matters little because it was she who first uttered it like she believed it in her very soul and it was she who allowed you to finally feel at ease that maybe, just maybe, people weren’t wrong to call you that. That they didn’t see what they longed for in a feeble attempt to bring hope and order and a speckle of safety in their lives no matter the truth of your own limits. Maybe, you had started thinking after one of your first few meetings with the Archon, you were a Warrior of Light. She believed it so vehemently and, to your untold relief, left no room for doubt.

Looking at Norvrandt’s night sky speckled with stars more welcoming that you ever thought a sight to be, you think of her. You often think of Minfillia, the loss a low constant thrum always present in your body ever since that night in Ul’dah, after she urged you to leave, after she stayed and died, but you’ve been thinking of her more often lately, more actively ever since you arrived in the First.

Undoubtedly, Ryne’s presence has a lot to do with it. Even so before, when she was still called Minfilia and the anxiety was clear as day in her features, wanting something more but never daring to admit it to herself, both the Oracle and someone else, both to save and help, but to also simply… be. It’s the reason you took to her so easily, why you began keeping an eye on her during your adventures—sometimes even more so than Thancred, of all people, when he was lost in thought, too trapped in his own silent agony.

Ever since your friend’s final departure, ever since Ryne woke up with bright red hair and lighter shoulders, you stopped hurting as much. The dull ache dulled even more and even though you’d always miss her, always long for her guidance, at least you could sense her peace. Minfilia could rest now.

One day you might too.

“One can only hope, no?” you mutter to yourself with a mocking smile, eyes still upwards.

Your room in the Pendants, you decide, is too spacious. Too big for one person, even if they’re a hero, a savior, Hydaelyn’s beloved child and warrior. You do appreciate the view, however, so you spend many nights by the big window, staring up at a Lightless sky you gifted to all instead of resting as you should.

You don’t want to rest. You want to keep going, one foot in front of the other, until exhaustion overtakes you and forces you to stop. Doing so before that point would only bring you unneeded guilt; you’re alive and breathing so you should be fighting and helping and saving. You’re not good for anything else.

You don’t want to rest but nobody has to know that.

The Warrior of Light, then. The Warrior of Darkness too, now, and you’ve started getting used to that as well. You don’t feel that much like a warrior at all is what you should have told her back then, in the Waking Sands, when things where slightly less perilous, slightly less all-consuming and terrible and bad. It’s not you they should be placing their hopes on. You’ve made a mistake and it’s someone else who should be here. Someone else’s Echo burning bright with power and potential. Given time, you will let them down and it’ll be too late by then, the consequences too great to rein in.

It’s only because of Ardbert’s ghostly aether making its presence known some paces behind you that you make the effort to turn away from the starlit heavens. Even then, he too will join by your side to look at the First beginning to slowly heal, one Lightwarden at a time. One darker sky at a time.

He says something and you almost miss it amidst the cacophony of your thoughts but you manage to quiet it down before you begin one of your many night-long conversations.

[voidsentprinces]

Every bit of Shadowbringers is the Scions it corresponds with.

Amh Araeng Prt 1 is very Alisaie. Mirroring her decision in A Realm Reborn, Alisaie wanders off to the outskirts of civilization. Choosing to observe the powers of the world and figure out a way to stop coming tragedies. We’re introduced to the threat and aggressively fight against it but in mirror the loss of Ga Bu and Louisoix. Alisaie loses someone dear to her by Tempering. Louisoix became a Primal and Ga Bu was tempered by Titan. (Though honestly I wish Alisaie would stop losing people dear to her cause after Requiem for Heroes it feels like the story likes to kick her while she’s down at this point)

Kholusia Prt 1 is very Alphinaud. There is a semblance civilization, a rule of law in the area, there is even a function in which the society works. Mirroring Alphinaud remaining well within spitting distance and very much in the middle of the comings and goings. He uses his diplomatic maturity, which once was made for personal gain with clever wit and scheme. He has learned from the Crystal Brave betrayal, corruption of Ishgards, the result of those who choose might means right and what it results in from his time in Ala Mhigo, Hingashi, and Doma respectively. Applying himself to better comes to grips with the peoples plight. Upon seeing how Eulmore treats those chosen but then thrown away and then coming face to face with Vauthry. Rather than turning a blind eye and just being, “That’s just how it is.” as he was with the Monetarists and Refugees of Ul’dah. He pushes back against the system, damn the consequences, leaving an easily position to effect the politics of Eulmore and even gets a bullseye placed on the back of his head.

Lakeland is very much the Crystal Exarch’s Domain. It is the place of mystery, where life heavily clings on and every time we venture out to it. We come into conflict with either Eulmore or the Sineaters, Vauthry is controlling. It is in Lakeland, we fight through the Holminster Switch. Come face to face with our first Lightwarden and see where there was once furtile farm land, peace, and people. Now chaos reigns and an apocalyptic wave of disaster has struck. Mirror the world, G’raha had woken up to after the Eighth Umbral Calamity. This is where our foot hold is. Where we first bring night back to the First and his plan for saving the Source is put in motion. There is also a sense of myth about the place, Bismarck, a fae being in this shard slumbers in the Lake aptly named the Source. And it is only by bringing together to allies we made that we allowed to travel to the Tempest when he is spirited away. Just as G’raha gathered allies and people to himself to build the Crystarium.

Il Mheg is Urianger’s realm and reflects the game, he has agreed to play with the Warrior of Light at the behest of the Exarch. It is full of beings, who make deals out of innocent furvor at the determent of all who are around them. Pixies trick travels and fellow fae a like. The Nou Mou live to serve mortal kind just as Urianger serves the realm as a whole, no matter what light history might cast him in. And the Amaro dream of comrades lost, wishing to feel the comfort the adventurers and merchants they once wandered with. Grieving in their own way just as Urianger did after Moenbryda’s passing. Il Mheg is the land of faeries, it is steeped in myth and legend just as Urianger always had his nose in a book. Titania lays at the center of the realm. Once the pinnacle of the fae, forever corrupted by the Lightwarden’s energy. A horrific mirror of what should happen is G’raha’s plan should fail and the paragon of heroism, his friend: The Warrior of Light. Could also become a monster wearing the skin of a kingly figure should his mask slip. Yet when we enter his abode in the middle of Il Mheg, the Waking Sands/Rising Stones music plays. Reminding us of home and the Scions, he calls family and he welcomes us as he ever did, cryptically.

“Unto a hero weary of heroes, a heroes wends [their] way...”

Rak’tika is Y’shtola of course. She has turned away from her light magics of conjury to the dark magics of thaumaturge. The great boughs rise up and block out the sun light of the Great Wood. Reflecting the living style of her mentor: Master Matoya. A person who prefers their solitude, away from the dealings of the world, but with great knowledge to progress the plot forward. Thancred and Y’shtola get into an argument on how each other has changed. The two of them stood side by side after the Bloody Banquet and were both flung into Aetherstream by her Flow spell. While Y’shtola adapted to her blindness and halfened life force. Thancred had to push against the constrains of no longer having access to his aether and briefly losing sight in one eye. His last moments were the thought of protecting Minfilia. Only to wake up in Dravania and find out that Minfilia is no more. Y’shtola rejects Master Matoya and Thancred’s choice of solitude. Making friends with the Night’s Blessed. Even though, she knows she might have to leave them behind all too soon. She becomes a pinnacle of the Night’s Blessed community. While Thancred wanders hither and tither unfocused with Ryne at his side. Slipping easily into her role as a Scion, she researches the clues left behind by the Ronka Empire and makes allies with a civilization who has also closed themselves off from the world. Y’shtola is the first one to recognize the faults in G’raha’s plan and is immediately suspicious of the Exarch’s intentions. We see Y’shtola never truly changed however as when it comes time to get the item that will save the world and protect her friends. She readily uses Flow once more. Damn the consequences. Her sacrifice for the greater good is, as always, her charge which she never hesitates to grant. She even bonds with Runar seeing him as a little brother despite his obvious want for something more, just as she has a sister back in Gridania with whom she has a friendly relationship with. Just as Y’shtola’s connection to Matoya opened up the path to Azys Lla. Her run in with Emet-Selch opens up the path to learn of the Ancients and Amaurot and the true nature of Hydaelyn and Zodiark.

Amh Araeng Prt 2 is Thancred. Its tedious, its nearly empty, full of the smallest hopes. Each challenge is made to be tougher than it should be and despite us being able to compliment Thancred when finding a Voebrite coin. He shrugs it off as he is wont to do at this point. We get Ryne’s inner turmoil deepening. Thancred comes face to face with another individual wallowing in their own grief for those he loss and suddenly after coming face-to-face with Ran’jit again. Thancred throws away his misgivings and brings Ryne into the fold as shoe horned and bad written as possible. So lets just skip this area and never talk of it ever again okay? Cause the story never really does save for the Fatebreaker Eden section

Kholusia Prt 2 is Ardbert’s story or what it once was. We gather our group together and besiege Eulmore only for the villain to escape our grasps. But we triumph in liberating Eulmore from Vauthry’s tyranny for a moment. Alphinaud gets his heroic speech, Alisaie gets to combat the threats of the Lightwardens, Y’shtola and Urianger work together to make a massive Talos, Thancred and Ryne keeping tabs on Vauthry and Mt. Gulg. We meet face to face with G’raha. For all intents and purposes our Cylva. A person with a schism coming to a head. We come together as a team for the first time since coming to the First and each shows their worth in their connections to the realm. Mirroring Ardbert’s journey, we are faced with multiple seemingly insurmontible odds and come out on top. Vauthry’s Sineater Guard fall, he himself becomes the last one. The night returns to the First. And. We. Fail. We fail due to the machinations of Ascians just as Ardbert’s group did. The Warrior of Light is brought low by the combined aetheric energies of all Lightwardens. G’raha’s plan fails when Emet-Selch appears and leaves us for dead. Sure the enemy was vanquished, Vauthry and Ran’jit for us, Loghrif and Mitron for Ardbert’s group, but the First still falls to a Flood of Light as the eternal day returns and we are left on the cusp of despair. For all our triumphs. For all the schemes. For all the fighting. We fail. And just as Ardbert learns to protect his world with the aid of the Word of the Mother. The Warrior of Light only survives due to the aid of Ryne. An Oracle of Light who has come into her own and not died on the battlefield. We wander the Crystarium afterwards listening to the tales of the people and what they think of the Exarch. Then immediately find our courage to plunge into the depths. Ardbert giving us the strength to move forward, that he didn’t have when he met Elidibus. No more desperation. Just courage in the face of oblivion.

The Tempest is Emet-Selch. We are bridged there by the mythical Bismarck and find a dwindling but prospering Sahagin alternative. Living and getting by the ruins of those who stood before. The one part of the world far, far, far way from the light of the First. From the people and things, he used to care for. We find he made a city out of nostalgia and even the ghosts become almost too real. He is at the depths of his grief in a world, he cannot forget and will not forsake. It is here, the one clinging to the past the most falls to those who look to the future they yet have. He covets the Exarch’s use of rift travel because he knows if he can harness it, he has a chance to go back and save EVERYONE! But, he can’t and he won’t. He can no longer go home and knowing Elidibus’s memory and personality has been slipping since he left Zodiark’s breast. He asks us:

“Remember us...remember that we once lived.”

The Crystal Tower is Elidibus. It is the shining beacon of hope, he wished to become as Emissary. From the day, he chose to become the heart of Zodiark. To every motion to move for or against his breathren. The Allaghan Empire’s greatest achievement. But ruled by an Emperor whose death dropped him into Nihilism. Conquest was nothing but ashes in the mouth of Xande and he wish to consume the Source in Void. Elidibus wishes the return of Zodiark. For it is his duty, there is no solace in memories he can no longer recall. A being frozen in time just as Amon had the Crystal Tower’s previous inhabitence. Telling us repeatedly that no matter what our Echo shows us of his past. It will not avail us to his present. So he takes on the image of the Warrior of Light, playing pretend at the role of the hero having possessed Ardbert’s body before. He speeds up the Heroes Journey. Has us actively fight against our own memories and in the end, his own brother reappears amidst the clash to grant the last Unsundered Peace in his fall. G’raha sealing away his essence in the Crystal Tower to become part of the beacon of hope and light. Though perhaps in his final moments, his true duty was that he was waiting for someone to return to him. Someone he looked up to in his younger years. A shadow in his memories he has clung to and taken into being the example off in their absence.

“The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it.”

[warwaged-moved]

Their steps are silent, in true Ascian fashion. They have left their body in the Rift -they still feel it, a very faint tether- and so they walk unseen into the Rising Stones, invisible to all but some few chosen.

There are no weapons in their body, and they wear no cowl to hide their features, nor do their wear their mask of office. It will not be needed, as they approach Minfilia, so many mixed feelings in their heart.

"Rumors claimed you walked among us once more." Azem speaks at last. "I thought I would see for myself."

AZEM // always accepting c’:

There was a time in which the presence of an Ascian would have been cause for terror.

She remembers Lahabrea, who had gone as far as using dearest Thancred to further his own goals ( the disgust at the Ascian’s actions had not lessened, and yet Minfilia can no longer claim a moral high ground; had she not used Ryne and countless others in similar fashion? ). Nabriales, who had cost a dear comrade’s life when she had yet been powerless to stop him.

Many feelings arise within her this time, but terror is not one of them. Minfilia had been warned of what had come to pass in her absence ( had mourned that loss as if it were a life taken ). The Warrior of Light had been more than a hero; they had been a friend. The only one amidst the Scions she had dared allow herself a moment of weakness in front of. The one she had been so concerned for, whenever they were sent in yet another task, and who she had been most glad to welcome back here, home, whenever they would arrive.

When they said their farewells, before she had gone to the First, she had reminded them of that worry, as well as of the relief to see them return. A promise had been made ( Someday, I promise you I shall repay the favor ), though on her own she would not have been able to. If her fate had been brought to be only by Hydaelyn’s intervention after the disastrous banquet in Ul’dah ( so long ago that it feels like a different life -- that in many ways it is, after she had lived and died and lived again through so many others ), so too was her return only possible by Mother Light’s interference. 

Too late, nevertheless. Minfilia wondered if it even mattered for her ( former? ) friend now. She takes a closed hand to heart, as if it would lessen its turmoil. Though part of her cannot help but feel the loss, a different piece cannot avoid some contentment to see the other at all. Not well, no, but she would not disregard entirely that Astraeus could still be reached somehow. 

Faith had never been something she lacked. Her commitment to Hydaelyn had been unparalleled, mayhaps, and not diminished even in light of all she had faced. If anything, that belief had only become less naive, though no less wholehearted. But it went beyond; her faith in others had ever been strong, and she refused to believe Azem, brightest of all, was hopelessly beyond the light.

( How had they taken such opposite paths? )

“ Rumors spoke of the path you had chosen, ” She answered in kind, yet words are tinged with sorrow, as blue eyes ( her own, mostly; no longer the eerie, pupil-less gaze of the Word of the Mother or the Oracle of Light, though their vivid color remained ) looked upon the other. “ But my heart was not strong enough to wish for us to meet like this. ”

“ I promised you I would return, ” Minfilia spoke, softer than one may expect towards a friend turned enemy; it is of heartbreak her demeanor speaks, not hatred. “ Would that I could have done it sooner. ”

[fistsoflightning]

25 - at least i have you

silver lining: a consoling and hopeful prospect; “every dark cloud has a silver lining.” Tehra’ir & audeo, 1.8k words. Shadowbringers, post-Mt. Gulg but before the WoL wakes up.

The world is back at the brink, and seven ghosts (?) have nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs as they wait for something to change. Hopefully in favor of them getting their bodies back...

The light pouring down from Norvrandt’s skies was almost blinding in its radiance.

Not that the sky being too bright was anything new. Tehra’ir had been here for the same five years Thancred had, traveling under the pearlescent colors of those Light-filled skies that had given Ryne sunburns when they raced away from Eulmore with her. It screwed with his sleep schedule and his temper so badly that the Exarch—or were they finally calling him G’raha, now?—basically had blackout curtains invented just so he could go back to his nocturnal habits whenever he was in the Crystarium for long enough. Apparently, the Mystel of the First had no nocturnal inclinations like the Keepers of the Moon of the Source did—that, or the ones who did were already long gone. The sky being too brilliant to look up at was normal.

But Norvrandt had got its first taste of night in a hundred years not over a few short months ago, starting with Lakeland and spreading like ink poured onto parchment to the rest of the land. The sour-sweet colors of the sun rising and setting every day, the near-eternal blue sky full of puffy white clouds, the shade of night and the stars that danced in its return. The change in weather, from eternal stillness to days of sweet rain and nights of cold wind. Tehra’ir and the others nearly cried when Reese brought up the vanguard and tore a rift in the Light they’d been working for ages to vanquish, even as ghosts. In the wreckage of Holminster Switch, Lyna looked up in awe, so childlike for someone who Valdis said might have been nearing a full century of life. Alisaie all but tackled her brother in joy. The other Scions, having already heard the news, weren’t so dramatic in their revelations, but they still took a quiet joy in knowing the skies were beginning to clear, even knowing what the price paid was.

And now the light was back. The Lightwardens were back, slowly taking their friends and turning them into Norvrandt’s doom. All because G’raha’s stupid plan and Emet-Selch’s timely but unwanted intervention led to the Light within breaking free.

Not completely, at least. Tehra’ir tried to tell himself that at least the five Warriors still standing were left with their bodies mostly intact, at least it wasn’t the end yet. He’d seen a fair share of people turn, and seven hells was it not pretty. Ryne, the absolute angel that Zaya and Thancred did not deserve but had as their almost-daughter anyways, had enough of a handle on her newfound strength to keep that from happening.

Enough to keep them alive, but not enough to stop time forever. Not even an Oracle reborn could cure the afflicted—if she couldn’t, then it was likely there was no cure, A’dewah said. He had been looking for a cure longer than Alisaie had been ready to suplex G’raha, forgoing his own wellbeing to chase it, and even with both of the stubborn idiots working for the Inn at Journey’s Head the only lead was Minfilia, the one who stopped the Flood in its place.

The skies were bright, there was no cure, and seven almost-ghosts gathered at the same place they had been for weeks, a clumsy half-oval around Zaya’s bed.

“How are we all feelin’?” Syhrwyda asked this question every two weeks, while they were still (technically) alive and meeting at the Wandering Stairs for whatever meal of the day it happened to be. If the Scions were drifting apart in their search for salvation, all the more reason for the seven of them to stick together.

Beside him, Valdis snickered, biting their lip to keep from laughing as A’dewah sat down on the foot of Zaya’s bed with a squeak that sounded a little like a deflating balloon. Not that Tehra’ir would say that to his face; he was nicer than that, and the poor man was already stressed out of his mind, even as a wandering spirit. “Transparent and intangible as always, Wyda.”

A’dewah, who Tehra’ir thought was having a small crisis (as was unfortunately usual for him), twitched. “If I knew I was going to be—be stuck in one piece of clothing for the rest of my days, I would have asked G’raha if the Crystarium had any better coats. I hate not being able to close this thing.”

Syhrwyda wheezed, watching A’dewah fruitlessly fiddle with the open part of his coat. “I’d have asked for something less purple, myself, but what can ye do.”

“Well, as long as you aren’t feeling any stranger than usual,” Duscha rumbled, lowering himself to sit on the floor. He looked a little silly, but Thancred had dragged his chair over to the window and was currently fast asleep in it, as uncomfortable as the Pendants’ chairs were. Tehra’ir thought Duscha would have looked just as silly trying to cram himself onto the piddly seat anyways. “Not that we can do much about any alterations.”

“Speaking of alterations,” Elwin said, tapping his finger to his cheek like he always did when thinking, “Thancred was smart to watch Zaya this whole time, considering their whole… everything… started right after the Well, huh.”

A’dewah gave a wheezy laugh. “I think, um, there’s a lot more to it than that.”

“You have to be blind not to see it—and even Y’shtola knows,” Syhrwyda snorted. She looked up and over Tehra’ir’s head to the open window of the small Pendants room, where Thancred had finally worn himself out from fretting over Zaya. Tehra’ir had, frankly, been a little worried; the man was too prone to overworking and repressing himself, especially when it came to the matters of Zaya and Ryne. Stupid, soft man.

“They’re really in love with each other,” Valdis said with a sniff. “It’s sort of sickening.”

Tehra’ir reached up to lightly squeeze Valdis’ shoulder, looking over at Thancred with the barest hint of jealousy settling in his chest. “They deserve it, though. Th’ daft culls’ve been through ‘nough.”

“Still wanna shake them a little for giving Ryne such a hard time, even if I get why they were having so many damn problems talking about it,” Lumelle grumbled. Next to her stool, Elwin reached up and patted his sister’s knee, mostly because he couldn’t reach her shoulders.

“If only we could,” Valdis sighed. “Watching them was emotionally taxing. They owe me.”

The reminder that they were practically non-existent was a bit harsher of a wake-up call than Tehra’ir would have used, but their resident black mage had never been one for smooth landings. Syhrwyda’s eternally sunny demeanor dimmed, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So… one to ten,” Lumelle mumbled, fingernails cutting into her palm, “How fucked are we?”

Tehra’ir didn’t have it in him to bring up Lumelle’s swear jar, already full of gil on the counter back home. She owed the swear jar plenty, and somehow so did Elwin, who must have picked up the habit at the knees of the Crystalline Mean workers, but he decided it didn’t count when they were facing off against tasks of Calamity-sized proportions. Let the two kids curse. They might never get to again.

“Fourteen,” A’dewah croaked, the godsdamned pessimist—but if anyone knew just how screwed they were, it would be him. He studied the few records that detailed changes in the Lightwardens like a hawk, spent nearly every second he could at the Inn or at Spagyrics trying to save someone regardless of if they were dying to injuries or on the verge of becoming someone’s next nightmare. It would have driven Tehra’ir insane, the nightmares and the memories. The knowledge that you were feeding poison to someone completely innocent because the alternative was worse. The inevitability of it all.

“We’re already dead,” Valdis said, smiling thinly. She always spoke in a way that made telling jokes and serious statements apart, but she’d never looked so resigned before. “How much worse can it get?”

Syhrwyda laughed, all sharp edges and no warmth. “We’ve all seen Ardbert by now. We know how this ends.”

Familiar enough story. Ardbert and his companions tried to save their world, nearly ended it, jumped to the Source after being tricked by an Ascian to come and kill them by abandoning their bodies. Cursed to wander as ghosts, except the other four gave their aether, their beings to Minfilia in order to halt the Flood. Ardbert was the only one left, now. Tehra’ir couldn’t imagine the years of haunting your home without feeling ill.

It was probably for the best that he couldn’t see them. Or hear them, for that matter.

“At least he got to come home,” A’dewah mumbled into his hands. His face paint would be all smeared, if they weren’t a little intangible at the moment. “Though—well, maybe that’s worse. Forced to wander here without being able to be here.”

Tehra’ir shrugged. “Speak for yerself. I’d consider throwin’ me stabbers to th’ sea if it let me see ol’ Limsa one last time.”

How strange was that, wanting to go home to the city full of pirates and thieves. Far better than the sugary sweet smell of Eulmore and its meol, at any rate, and at least there he could find his sister and the Guild waiting for him. Could expect Jacke to throw his arm over his shoulder and give him something to laugh about—the First was awfully lacking in anything that wasn’t gallows humor.

Gods, he never even got to tell Jacke. Spent so much time futzing about with his feelings that he comes to terms with them on a whole separate world, two years too late to spill all the words he’d been leaving unsaid.

aybe we’re not going to make it home ever again,” Lumelle murmured, knees pulled up to her chest and hair frizzy with knots, “But at least I’m here with you guys. At least I’m not alone.”

“Aw, Mel,” Elwin said, a little teary-eyed. “When did you get all soft and gooey? Did Alisaie do something while I was busy in the forge?”

Lumelle flushed bright red as a mirror apple, nearly falling off the stool as the rest of them started to smile. It’s poetic, in a way and if someone was a shitty, tragic poet; it starts with one person bringing them together to become eight, and it ends with one person losing the other seven.

(“At least I have you,” Zaya had said, in the dark of the Dutiful Sisters as the Crystal Braves stomped past. “At least I’m not alone.”)

“Ye’ll always have us,” Tehra’ir said, even as Lumelle and Elwin started to wrestle each other, a paladin and her pint-sized brother. “No matter what.”

[elfyourmother]

Prompt 10: Avail

Before that ruinous day, Urianger Augurelt believed he knew somewhat of fear.

Until the moment he witnessed the Lady Surana collapse before his eyes, crumbling to the gilt tiles of Vauthry’s palace in the clouds, enveloped by dire, unholy light in all its abhorrent brilliance. For in that singular moment did ragged tendrils near choke the beating of his very heart within his breast, as never before, and of a surety did he know the truest measure of fear.

“No!”

Twas Lord Haurchefant who cried out thus in abject horror, a scream echoing upon the immaculate, shining marble to fair curdle one’s blood. And he flew to her side, falling to his knees beside her prone, lifeless form, with Mistress Dangoulain hot upon his steel-clad heels.

Instinctively, without so much as a second thought, Urianger called upon the stars, shrouded though they were by luminescent flames, the globe revolving swiftly above his graceful hand. 

It was futile, of course, and he was too learned an Archon, too much the scholar of Sharlayan, to know it for anything less. There was naught could be done by an Astrologian’s hand, to soothe this wound. 

Twas not the Archon who so desperately reached to the uncaring heavens, to heal such wounds as were beyond his tender ministrations, however, but the man whose heart had fractured even as did her tattered soul, shattering to pieces as she so did before his eyes.

And so again and again did he lift the whirling star globe, to bathe Lady Gisele in star-kissed aether most benign; again and again, that starry light did but settle and shatter against the searing incandescence which did envelop her.  

Y’shtola’s hand slipped over his own, palsied though he was, and she gazed up at him with colorless eyes as penetrating as ever he beheld, top filled with compassion, and shook her head softly; they needed no words exchanged, not these two who knew one another’s minds so very well and for so long. 

Thus did Urianger lower the globe, collapsing it back, with a heavy sigh.

It was Ryne who made the difference, of course—the power she had inherited at so great a cost did rest upon her slender shoulders with a grace and surety which belied her tender years. Her Oracle’s hands hovered over Gisele’s body, and while Urianger did not possess such second sight as Y’shtola, he nonetheless knew the girl had raised some manner of paling to stay the raging of the Light within her. For a moment, overlong and agonizing, it was not clear whether the girl had achieved her purpose, but in the end, that nimbus of cold and all-devouring Light had faded, and there was only Lady Gisele. 

“It’s contained, at least—but only for now,” Ryne said, her slender brows furrowing. She raised a trembling hand to her heart, bowing her head somewhat. “I...don’t know how long it will last.”

Ysayle reached down to brush an errant silvery curl from Gisele’s brow, tucking it behind her tall, leporine ear, then lowered her mouth to press her lips against her deep bronze skin. “If only I was strong enough, my love, and we could have shared this burden. Saint preserve us all for my inadequacy...” she said, with a creeping hint of bitterness; the line of her jaw tensed, her eyes narrowed. 

“This is not your fault, Ysayle,” Y’shtola said firmly. 

“Isn’t it?” Ysayle countered, and Urianger saw that her icy, silvery eyes were glossy and standing with tears unshed. 

Swallowing hard the lump which formed hence within his throat, till it sank like lead deep in his belly, Urianger pulled away from Y’shtola, slowly crossing the distance to her, and the distraught paramours which kept their vigil. And with each step his gilt sandals clicked hollow against the pristine marble; the only sound which pierced the silence which fell upon them. He lowered his gaze to Ysayle, then. 

“Mistress Dangoulain, if I may...prithee forgive me mine boldness, but even in his subterfuge, paltry though it be, did the Exarch speak with all veracity when he stated that no mortal could ever hope to contain such Light as all the Lightwardens possess, in their totality.”

“If I had not been so maddeningly weak, we could have shared it!” Ysayle cried.  

“No, Ysayle,” Haurchefant said sharply. “And Gisele would not want you to blame yourself this way. Nor do I.”

Y’shtola went to Ysayle, reaching down to place a gentle hand upon her shoulder, kneading it tenderly; with the greatest of care, did she bid Ysayle rise to her feet, drawing her into her arms. They shared a tender embrace, then, with Yshtola’s hand stroking Ysayle’s long, silvery hair. 

“He’s right. Besides, if there is blame to be had, then we all must share in it equally. But there is little point in casting it, for we all knew the risks inherent to such a plan—and so did she,” Thancred said gravely. “Castigating ourselves for it won’t save her. And I, for one, don’t mean to waste the time Ryne has purchased for her. We must regroup, at once. and decide our next steps.”

Haurchefant nodded fervently, and Urianger saw despair shift within an instant, that signature fire within his eyes returned then in full and not by halves. “Indeed. Gisele needs us now, more than ever. As do the people of the Crystarium, for I suspect Kholusia is not the only land where the skies have so regressed, and now they are bereft of their Exarch. We can ill afford a panic in the streets, atop everything else,” he declared. 

“Well said. We must needs maintain order, and settle the people’s frayed nerves, even as we might find a way to save Gisele,” Alphinaud agreed. 

“Then let us return with all haste to the Crystarium. Mayhap there is somewhat within the shining halls of the Crystal Tower which shall prove of use to our inquiry,” Urianger said.

He knelt down, then, in hushed reverence, lowering his sorrowful gaze to Gisele’s silent form, her glorious violet eyes shut in peaceful repose. At the least, she did not suffer any longer, so stricken; he suppressed a shudder within the whole of his body at the memory of her pained cries, at the manner in which she staggered on such unsteady feet mere moments before. “Forgive me, my lady,” he muttered, tensing the line of his jaw, and clamped tightly shut his own eyes against the hot tears which threatened, swallowing it down hard with all the discipline he might muster. 

“What do you mean to do?” Haurchefant made him a questioning glance. 

“Pray, ser knight, but I would bear thy lady wife down the mountain, an it please thee,” Urianger replied softly. 

Haurchefant nodded, clasping his shoulder tightly. “Your aid is most welcome, my friend,” he said warmly, and with no small amount of relief. “Let us away, then; you might relieve me at the foot of the temple.”

But Urianger shook his head. 

“Pray forgive me my trespass, my lord de Fortemps, for I would not overstep in this, but I would not see this most solemn duty so apportioned among us. I beg of thee, permit me to bear this by the whole, and not by halves.”

Haurchefant blinked. “You jest.”

“Nay, my friend—never in so dire a matter as this.”

“Are you mad? Have you forgotten so quickly the arduousness of the climb?” Thancred balked incredulously.

“I beseech thee, gentle friends,” Urianger pleaded. “Permit me this one duty, though I deserve it not for so dissembling. Tis naught when measured ‘gainst the weight of my sins.” He rested a trembling hand upon the crown of her woolen curls, achingly soft and purest white as the driven snows of her beloved Coerthas. And his melancholy heart quickened despite his circumspection, for he could not help but trace with tender eyes the elegance of her features, and dare drink of her intoxicating beauty but for a long moment. For although the vagaries of her sojourn through the Rift had made a polymorph of her Elezen visage, he found her no less comely and alluring as a Viera. Still, her long lashes curled so coyly, still her skin of deep bronze fair gleamed golden as the sun from within, still the abundance of her generous lips rested in the familiar sensuous pout. 

Even so stricken as she was by the Light she scarce contained, was she on life more beautiful than any maid he had ever beheld. Of a surety, in repose did she resemble less the Warrior of Darkness, but rather a princess in the romances and faerie tales of eld, awaiting true’s love’s kiss to break the grievous curse which had laid her low. 

And such beauty was matched by her superior intellect, for not since the halcyon days of his youth in the old country, with Moenbryda, did he match wits with a mage so cunning, so fascinating. He longed to sit with her once more among the tomes in the Waking Sands, speaking of obscure arcane lore and esoterica. And oh how he yearned to gaze upon the brightness of the stars with her, but once more, dazzling as they were in the heavens above the desert, and mark their transits together. He wished her sweet laughter might grace once more within his ears, pealing light as tinkling bells. 

More than anything, Urianger so dearly wished he might find the eloquence which proved so elusive, and for so long, where this most remarkable woman was concerned. 

But this was all he could do. 

Reverently, with the greatest of care, did he slide his hands beneath her legs, her slender torso, and lifted her from the marble tiles into his powerful arms. And he cradled her against him, as one might a babe, with all the tenderness he felt for her. 

Thus did Urianger bear Gisele down the whole of Mt. Gulg. Betimes he wavered with the strain, but shrugged off the proffered aid by Thancred and Haurchefant time and again; he inhaled deeply of the heady scent of roses which clung to her skin, and his strength was readily renewed. 

Hence they returned to the Crystarium, and her room at the Pendants.

And when he laid her down gently upon the soft bed in the corner, Urianger knelt before it a long moment, smiling down at her. His heart was swollen, his body numb and racked with the tears he at last permitted himself to shed. He inhaled a deep and steadying breath, willing them to cease. 

“Sleep well, my lady,” he whispered softly, in the end, lightly brushing her curls away from her closed eyes. 

[raelly-writing]

👀👀

( send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p) )

:3c Well, two snippets! One 5.0 and one somewhere 5.3-5.5.

First one between Y’shtola and Thancred during the celebrations at the Crystarium at the end of 5.0. Got stuck on the dialogue since I haven’t written much of Y’shtola, nevermind from her perspective.

---

“With the way you are looking at her, half the Crystarium will catch on to the two of you by night’s end.”

To his credit, Thancred did not startle when Y’shtola spoke up just before approaching the table he had taken to momentarily occupy.

Though some of the finer details of his form were lost to her aetheric vision, she saw him turn his head to give her an incredulous look at her as she gathered her skirts around her and settled down in the empty chair next to him. “I have not the slightest idea what you’re speaking of.”

“Feigned ignorance suits you ill,” she rebuked him.

Thancred raised an eyebrow. ���I’m merely keeping an eye on Ryne and the twins.”

Y’shtola snorted. On her way over she had caught sight of the young Oracle’s bright form, flanked by the familiar shapes of the twins, in the opposite direction of where he had been looking. “Yet your gaze and steps trails after someone else, looking for all the world like a lost puppy.”

“Hey now, Shtola-”

“You’re even drinking water,” she observed, the lack of alcoholic scent directly from his vicinity a dead give-away.

Thancred shrugged. “Thought I’d change things up for once.”

“I’m certain Urianger’s needling has naught to do with your decision.”

There was a sour look on his face as he gave her a sidelong glance, then his eyes softened slightly and the corner of his lips curled with a teasing smile. “Won’t Runar miss you, master Matoya?”

Clicking her tongue, she tapped his arm. “That’s enough cheek from you, thank you.”

Snorting, he shook his head. “You’re the one who came over here and began interrogating me.”

“Not interrogating,” she replied as she crossed one leg over the other and rested her elbows on it while letting her eyes sweep over the throngs of people celebrating the night’s permanent return. The familiar bright blue hue of Viana’s aether, no longer obscured and overwhelmed by the searing Light, was easy enough to spot, shining brightly amidst all the other shapes. “Merely thought I’d take this opportunity to voice some friendly concerns in regards to our dear friend.”

She could all but sense Thancred grow tense and still next to her. His voice was even and neutral as he replied, “Here to voice your disapproval, are you?”

----

Second under the cut.

I’d hoped I’d be able to finish this one up after 5.4, but Thancred got shooed out the door so swiftly that I’m holding out for 5.5 to give me the appropiate “returns to the Rising Stones in the middle of the night” context. >_> I liked the thought of making AST one of Viana’s canon jobs, but just on a very... basic “Forever level 10 skill-wise”. I mainly just wanted to give her some magic theory, since her other jobs are DoW focused and it fit in nicely for her to start learning some Astrologian skills and magic theory from Urianger due to everything in 5.0 (I headcanon the twins helped out with the Magic DPS and healer role questlines). ... I also like the Neo-Ishgardian healer dress and wanted to write something silly for why she has that particular outfit and Thancred catching her wearing it.

---

Fishing out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket, he quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

Too silent, in fact.

A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen - a gift from someone, she’d once said - that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.

The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.

Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he turned on his heel and was just about to head back out the door for his own room when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. He stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall.

“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.

“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.

Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress. 

A moment of silence stretched out between them.

Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”

Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.

[autumnslance]

Hello! Are you looking forward to 5.3, and do you have any story predictions? :)

I am very much looking forward to 5.3! I am planning to be up bright and early in the morning (6am my time) for the Live Letter and likely a trailer. I also took Patch Day off work so I can just play and not sit and be unproductive and distracted at work all day.

As a reminder: trailers are meant to hype us up and are often cut to be misleading! Incomplete, out of context voiced lines over entirely unrelated scenes/images! Things spliced together to pique interest and fuel theories! Do not trust it!

They may use more NieR music. Or part of the boss theme for the Secret Trial. Or both.

I had a lot to say so here’s a cut!

Predictions? Hrm. At this point I’m not sure. I can think of a few different possibilities, especially with The Crystal Tower raids becoming mandatory (and honestly they should have just done that before Shadowbringers entirely). We also know Our Lady Natsuko Ishikawa is back to lead writing for this finale of the storyarc she’s guided this entire time.

-I do think the Crystal Tower on the Source will become important again, as will its slumbering keeper. There’ve been hints dropped to that regard since the end of 5.0.

-I’m not so sure the Exarch will die; there’s a lot of talk about it and people claiming “OMG death flags!!!” but that just makes me think the opposite; he might come close, but with the way the narrative has relied on second chances and hope, I don’t see it as that likely. Also Her Grace Ishikawa dislikes killing off characters if she can help it, so unless she’s under orders, I feel it’s unlikely.

There are other ways The Queen can break our hears, after all.

-I am ready for a big, teary scene where Ryne says goodbye to the Scions, especially Thancred. There are a couple possibilities for how it can go, though.

-Interrupted by an enemy/event, leaving only last soft looks and things still unsaid but the communication is finally there.

-Thancred (and/or Urianger and/or Y’shtola) end up remaining on the First after all, perhaps to give the others a chance, or to help the Exarch, or Ryne, or similar last minute emergency reasons; unintentional, but they won’t just leave their friends hanging.

-The Archons do get to leave, but it’s difficult getting them back to their bodies; this is where I think Young G’raha comes back in. His blood on the Source can be used to reverse what Exarch does on the First to get the Scions into the souljars and back into corporeal form.

-A big part of me wants Ryne to last minute suddenly have to help us get the Scions back. That’s been my theory the whole time and I won’t let go until this is resolved. Minfilia got the Heroes of the First home with her, Ryne could be able to do the same; she’s as Blessed as the WoL is, after all, and just as Rejoined.

-That last one does leave Gaia alone, though, which is rough, but also she could finish Eden on her own at this clean break point in that story. While Ryne dearly loves and wants to rebuild the First, she is the Oracle of Light--and Light’s time over that world is done. That Oracle’s powers and point of hope are no longer needed, but a personification of Darkness’ changes, well...

-Runar may have a role somehow; there’s theorizing on the focus on him last patch, and him overhearing Y’shtola talk of leaving, might leave him open to manipulation.

-Frankly all the new-minted WoLs are open to manipulation, and Elidibus turning them on the Scions somehow.

-I want Angelo to come back with Alisaie. Barring that, she immediately remakes him. I definitely want a scene or at least mention of her testing her new technique on Ga Bu, but that might take another patch or two.

(I’m pretty sure out of all of them, the twins are definitely getting home; their stories on the First have been neatly wrapped up and their role alongside the WoL keeps them pretty safe, I think)

-I want a stabilized portal with the First. I don’t want the world “cut off” so far as plot goes (open for us to return for leveling/crafting/instanced reasons, but the story there being over). It would negate in so many ways the point of saving the First to let it rot in MMO static world status, but I’m also sure that’s likely to happen. Story moves on, as do the lives there, but the game can’t depict it unless there’s a plot reason for it to update.

-We’ll start working on the still-destroyed other side of the Firmament. It’ll go much like the last patch’s progression did, as that actually worked out rather well. Maybe it’s a new form of player housing. Possibly. They’ve got to come up with something different.

-Anogg and Konog will blow things up. Machine lifeforms will attack the Goggs’ carnival. The Chief will yell and curse a lot. Nines may end up helping protect people from the machine lifeforms and then begrudgingly work with us, and 2B if we can wake her; she’s in promo art still so may get woken up during the story leading into the Bunker. I know there’s at least one other faction in NieR those figures in the art could be, and the gear they hinted will be based on said figures. We’ll learn some, but not the whole story, of what happened to 2B and why Nines was enraged while not infected (his eyes were clear). Maybe we’ll meet A2; as a boss? I doubt we’ll see Adam and/or Eve until part 3, though; they feel like end bosses, if I understand their role in story right (I’ve not played any NieR).

-People will gripe and whine there are no changes to the actual writing, dialogue, or voice acting for ARR, especially in EN, not realizing how much more work that is, not to mention probably legal issues and contractual obligations with that studio and the actors.

-I’m hoping for Class and Job quests for New Game+

(as an aside, I would love for the ARR Beast Tribes to get retooled to be a bit more like HW and later Beast Tribes, and ARR and HW DoL/DoH quests to get updated to be more StB-style; for one thing, it’s an actual test of your gathering/crafting skills, not “buy it from the MB/have a buddy make it” and for two, once contained to story items, it might make it easier to add those quests to New Game+)

-Please give us Hildibrand. Please. I’m begging, SE! Greg canonically has riftwalking powers and used them at the end of StB Hildy. Please. Give us the Inspector, he’s how the WoL destresses from what MSQ throws at them.

There’s probably more I’m forgetting, but this is more than enough for now. I’m trying not to go too hard on speculation, as whatever happens will still surprise me somehow.

I do expect tears though. Lots and lots of tears.

[porta-decumana]

Some Eden’s Promise Thoughts

I have some Thoughts(tm) about 5.4′s biggest quest chains (the MSQ, Eden, and Werlyt) but I’m probably gonna do separate posts about each one because I feel like each one merits a novella at this point.  Let’s start with Eden.

My initial reaction to Eden’s Promise as a whole was pretty positive.  I was surprised by how it ended but I liked that it felt pretty tied-in to the MSQ (particularly the Emet Selch and Ardbert shoutouts).  Any time a quest feels naturally interconnected with another part of the game, I feel like we see FFXIV where it’s at its strongest.

However, the longer I thought about Eden’s Promise, the more I began to remember bits from Eden’s Gate and Eden’s Verse that didn’t really feel like it added up.  The entire Oracle of Darkness business was dropped fairly quickly, despite seeming incredibly important at the end of Eden’s Gate.  Eden’s Gate and the constant parallels between Ryne and Gaia in Eden’s Verse made it seem like they were trying to make a statement and dark and light being able to coexist but the plot turned out to be more “Ascians bad, fight Ascians”, which I’ll admit, is kind of disappointing.  Gaia does not even particularly feel special at this point-- just another reincarnated Ascian.  Which, I did really like the plot with her and Artemis; the notion that they’re constantly been finding each other over multiple lifetimes is really touching in a sense.  I just feel conflicted overall because although I liked that aspect of the plot, I felt like the audience got baited very hard into thinking Gaia was somehow unique through the writing being very intentionally deceptive.  And while that works in some cases, I feel it doesn’t in this case.

Additionally, I thought her fight as the Voidwalker also made very little sense given the context we have by the end of Eden’s Promise.  Although we have fought multiple Ascians at this point and they’ve had different tricks up their sleeves, they have enough recurring abilities to make it evident that you are fighting an Ascian.  Everything about Voidwalker feels unique-- particularly the time mechanics.  And if I know anything about this dev team, it’s that they love reusing mechanics not just for the sake of reusing them but to keep their lore consistent (hence all elder wyrms having abilities like Akh Rhai and Akh Morn).  So why is Voidwalker so different from other Ascians?  I guess that’s the question I would like to ask the dev team.  Because right now, looking at the evidence of everything pre-Eden’s Promise, I get the feeling the story got changed midway through and I’m... not sure how I feel about that. 

Gaia’s time powers are a homage to Ultimecia (E12s Phase 2 basically confirms this) but I’d have to ask why this is the case.  Why not just put Ultimecia in the game?  It’s not like FFXIV has ever shied away from adding in bosses from previous games-- that’s... over half the cast of bosses at this point.  My only theory to this is that Gaia’s name in Eulmore was Ultimecia (or even Rinoa, if you buy into the Ultimecia = Rinoa theory) but they decided to omit telling the players that for... reasons I can’t really fathom, because if that were the case, I feel like they’d HAVE to add it in to solidify that Gaia’s supposed to be a Ultimecia reference.  

Anyways, I’m left feeling pretty divided about the entire thing.  I’m definitely curious to see what they do with Gaia in the long run.  But I’m equally curious if Thancred ever finds out about Fatebreaker.

[tenuuchlegch]

‘ wow ! how do they work ? is it magic ? ‘ ryne is mesmerized by the fireworks, all but tugging odette’s hand to get closer. ‘ so many colors . . . it’s wonderful. ‘

         "Well, there certainly can be illusions of fireworks if one is proficient enough in spellcraft. Additionally, one cannot forget a black mage's infamous ability to rain down meteors onto their foes. Unfortunately however, these pyrotechnics can potentially have the same ferocity of ill effects if one is reckless in their use," Odtsetseg explained to the eager hyur, slightly halting her nigh careless tracks by remaining stagnant despite hand being yanked. Not that the au ra would purposely ruin the red-haired girl’s merriment. No, the oracle had proved many a time that she was capable of handling herself. Xaela merely figured informing younger girl on the potential dangers would be best. It would not do if she ended up being woefully ill prepared, when facing them after all. 

          This Heavensturn was truly a blessing in of itself, as Ryne’s appearance marked undeniable happiness within Odtsetseg. Now that the girl was here, au ra could show her some of the more entertaining aspects from Source. She had imagined the First had holidays of its own prior towards flood, but when pressed with apocalyptic situation which lasted a century dancer had doubts that many traditions survived. Here however, younger lady might get an idea of what such festivities were like and that made adventurer all the more happier.

         “Still, you are correct. They are most certainly a glorious spectacle to behold.” Another one popped off, exploding in the atmosphere brilliant hues of violet and catching au ra’s attention. After a moment, playful hum absconded lips and tail flicked. “You know... I believe I still have in my possession some personalized, eastern fireworks from the last Moonfire faire.” She then shot Ryne an absolutely mischievous expression. “What do you think? After watching this shall I try finding them so we can light them up at midnight ourselves?” She was certain Limsa would not mind a LITTLE unauthorized pyrotechnics just outside of their fair city.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2020

Prompt #17 - Fighting Against the Odds

Fade - ‘an act or instance of fading’

<Warning: Shadowbringers 5.0 MSQ Spoilers!>

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Katsum’s consciousness faded in and out against the white, burning noise of the light that clouded her vision. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before, like the very roots of her soul were being drawn apart forcefully, her body fighting to hold on and very quickly losing the battle. She breathed heavily like her body was weighed down by a large rock on her back, her arms and legs shaking like leaves. The Miqo’te could barely hear what was going on around her, could only just make out the unconscious body of the Exarch - of G’raha Tia - and Emet-Selch pacing lazily towards her with a smug look of pity on his face. She could hear him speak, yet she could barely make out what was said. Only bits and pieces were clear, yet one statement rang clear when he said it.

“What a disappointment you turned out to be.”

Katsum bared her teeth, her fingers tightening into fists. She tried to move, to stand, to fight, yet her body was wracked with pain, and instead, she coughed violently, a splatter of white hitting the ground beneath her. Her mind reeled, trying to think, to find a way out and a way to remain as she was even as her body continued to crumble. Deep within, she felt a war raging and in her mind, she suddenly heard the roar of her Dravanian companion. For a moment, the severity of the pain waned, and she then knew that Raihogg had found the source and was doing what he could to stop its influence.

‘Set us free, Katsum! I must fight it outside of your soul or it shall surely tear us apart!’ Raihogg’s voice echoed in her mind and she clenched her eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try and gain a stable heartbeat.

She felt the shadow of the Ascian fall on her as he knelt in front of her, “Hm,” She could hear him ponder audibly, “You still retain your form and your senses...yet you have all but become a sin eater.”

Katsum hissed as she forced the words out, opening her eyes to glare at him as the Draic necklace around her neck began to glow with the eye of Raihogg, “Not...yet!!” With every ounce of her strength, she had left she cried out, “Raihogg! With me!!!”

The familiar pull on her aether was a comfort as Raihogg’s form materialized, flying out of the necklace with a bright and blinding creature in his jaws. Katsum yelled out in pain as the light beast was torn from her body, yet it still remained connected to her being as Raihogg did, both still a part of her soul. They crashed into the tiled flooring, Raihogg throwing the writhing creature to the ground as he struggled to remain standing. The Scions and the Ascian were astounded by the great red dragon that now stood between Katsum and the creature of light, yet Raihogg’s eyes were focused on the shimmering creature, shaking himself to stand tall again and hiss with fury at his enemy. The beast of light moved unnaturally as it got to its feet, its wings stretching out and folding back as it turned its empty black eyes back at Raihogg and Katsum. Its scales were jagged and uneven, its talons longer than they should have been, and its twisted maw snarling as it too shrieked; a twisted and vile form of a dragon made sin eater.

Katsum gasped for breath as she looked up at the two dragons, her eyes meeting the terrible eater’s eyes as it hissed and moved to charge at her, yet Raihogg was quicker. He stepped between them again and crouched low before lunging at the sin eater’s throat, his jaws snapping closed just behind the beast's skull. The sin-eater howled, the talons on its front feet slicing at Raihogg’s neck, clawing at the soft skin. Yet he moved through the pain and flew up into the air to pull the eater backward over itself, slamming it into the ground with his weight and his own talons. Its assault faltered and Raihogg released his grip on its neck to rear back with his wings unfolded and took a breath of flame. As if it had been waiting for this, the dragon sin eater’s claws lashed out at Raihogg’s soft underbelly, causing both he and Katsum too to cry out in pain. His fiery breath failed him and his strength waned just enough for the beast to push back against him and knock him off balance, sending him crashing to the ground again as the sin eater pulled itself free again, its eyes falling on Katsum again.

“So this is your beast then? The one I heard so much about from Lahabrea,” Katsum glanced around to see the Exarch’s body gone and Emet-Selch floating far above them, looking down at her with an annoyed glare, “It still won't be enough. You do know that, don’t you? You can’t stop the inevitable.”

“You...you don’t...get to say...what my outcome shall be..” Katsum growled shakingly, “Just...watch us...and we’ll show you...how we’ll...survive this!!”

He frowned and shrugged with a sigh, “You’ll never get it, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Yet if you wish to turn into that creature before you in dignity, away from the eyes of the world, you may come and find me in the Tempest.” He looked down at the sin eater dragon as it stalked slowly towards Katsum, its jaws open wide and its wings unfolded, “Well if you survive this that is.”

Then, in a plume of shadow, he vanished. Katsum gasped for breath as she met the creature's eyes again, its shimmering mass towering over her now.

“KATSUM!!”

As it reared back its head, a sparking red blur shot into its side, rolling it off of its feet as Raihogg pushed it back down beneath him with his talons, staying aloft so as to not fall himself. As the sin eater turned his neck to sink its fangs into the flesh of his neck, the red dragon’s spark teeth sank into the shoulder of the beast, bright red electricity covering the two of them. The beast screamed in pain, writhing around to try and get free as Raihogg called out, “Save her! Stop the light!”

Katsum felt a hand on her shoulder suddenly, and she looked up to see Ryne staring at her in fear as she held out her hands and whispered, “Oracle, help me…!”

She felt the light’s pull suddenly slow, the torrent of the storm slowly calming, and the ripping of the tethers that held her soul together froze. Katsum gasped, her entire body violently shaking as she fell to the ground on her side. As her vision again faded in and out, she saw Raihogg drop the limp body of the sin eater and stagger over to her until he too fell before her with his nose touching her hand. His body was littered with gashes and wounds, yet his eyes only stared into hers as he wheezed, “I am...sorry I could not do more, Katsum...Yet I shall not stop fighting it...until its gone. I promise...”

She hadn’t the strength to answer, yet she knew he could hear her thoughts as a tear ran down her cheek. Her vision faded in and out again as the faces of the twins appeared beside the dragon, Alisaie patting the great dragon’s nose as he began to fade back into the necklace while Alphinaud sadly looked down at Katsum, “We’ve got you, Kat...We’ll keep you safe. Trust us.”

She hadn’t the strength to do overwise as her eyes slowly closed and she let go to fall into the darkness of unconsciousness.

[blackestnight]

armor for rest prompts - hanami

with bonus ‘hands’ from the @seaswolchallenge!

Ryne liked camping. It had been terrifying, at first—she had never been allowed past Eulmore’s walls, before, only ever permitted to explore the city’s lower levels under Ran’jit’s watchful eyes. It still wasn’t fun all the time, once she joined Thancred; if they were sleeping under the sky it meant that either there wasn’t a safe town nearby or they couldn’t afford a bed in one. But there was something thrilling about being penned in by nothing but the horizon.

In Amaurot, it was cold, the fathoms of the ocean overhead blocking out even what little warmth the Light gave off, and the churning sea felt more stifling than any roof ever had. Ryne decided she didn’t like it much.

At least they had found a little park to stop in. The big robed shades didn’t seem bothered by them lounging under the colossal trees, and the grass was silk-soft and even more springy than the ground in Il Mheg. Thancred had set up their little camping stove the night before, the one powered by fire shards, and between him and Urianger they’d managed to make a delightful fish soup that tasted even better when they’d warmed it up for breakfast. Now Thancred was fiddling with his gunblade, complaining about saltwater in the mechanisms, and Alphinaud and Urianger were bent over a journal trying to map the phantom city streets; Alisaie and Y’shtola had already left to question more of the shades, though neither of them had looked particularly hopeful when they had gone.

Ryne was wrestling with her Oracle-sight, again, because Hanami was sleeping, again. She’d been doing that a lot lately. 

Ryne knew why. With her new second sight, she could see the way the Light aether in Hanami’s body was slowing her down, clogging her life force like sediment building in a pipe. It helped when Ryne sort of...poked at the Light to move it, nudge it into smaller pieces that allowed her normal aether to circulate again, but the Light was building up more swiftly by the day and it was getting harder and harder to move it. Plus it gave Ryne a horrible headache to look at her for too long; as blinding as the Lightwarden in Amh Areang had been, Hanami was far brighter, like a magnesium flare next to a candle flame.

She wasn’t quite sure of how much Hanami felt when she was doing this. Ryne knew Hanami felt something, it would be impossible not to when she was sticking her fingers in the woman’s aether and wiggling them like she would in a clogged sink. But she hadn’t yet gotten the nerve to ask if it felt bad. When she had asked Thancred, folding her Light-shaping hands into nervous patterns at the front of her skirt, he had given her a sad look and said that maybe it was better not to know, not when there wasn’t really an option to stop.

Distracted, she prodded at a concentration of Light, and Hanami jerked halfway to sitting with a cough. Ryne gasped and withdrew her aetheric senses, blinking back into her physical awareness to find Hanami curling on her side, her hands clutched at her chest and making a sort of wet wheezing noise.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ryne yelped, and pressed her hands against Hanami’s shoulder, patting frantically as she reached out beyond the tips of her fingers, trying to feel—but nothing seemed wrong, or at least nothing besides the Light corruption that she had already been working on. Already Hanami was quieting, relaxing down into her sleep-stupor as the wild flail of her life force settled back into its sluggish pattern. Ryne gave a hurried wave to Urianger, who had already begun to reach for his astrolabe; he sat back with a frown, and Thancred eased his grip on his sword.

Hanami was still shaking, though. Ryne didn’t think she was awake, not really, but she was rolling her head like she couldn’t find a comfortable way to lie, her eyelids fluttering and her mouth pulling down into a sharp frown.

Ryne gave her shoulder a soft pat again, cursing her useless hands. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry, you’re alright now…”

Hanami made a little grumble-groan noise of discomfort. Her breaths still sounded shallow. Ryne fluttered her hands over her arm, folded them in her own lap, and then, finally, desperately, placed her open palm atop Hanami’s head, just like Thancred and Urianger did. She gave an awkward pat to Hanami’s sweat-damp hair.

Hanami’s eyes fluttered open, just for a moment—it might have been the gloom of the Tempest with the light of her limbal rings, but Ryne thought for a heartbeat that her eyes were glowing, the way her own used to—before she reached up and clasped her hand around Ryne’s forearm, giving a gentle squeeze. Then she sighed and rolled over, falling back into her fitful doze.

Ryne swallowed and remained, offering the only comfort she could with her untrained power and clumsy hands.

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.4

I think at this rate Imma forego my monthly writing update for this month since LOOK AT ALL THIS WRITING I’VE BEEN DOING

Notes: Still in ShB spoilers hell. This is after pt.3 and just after WoL and Ryne reunite with the others. That and the Thancred scene(tm) before it are my absolute favorites from the expansion (so far) so it was inevitable that I would write Ami’s feelings about him almost dying. This is just more me being wishy-washy on will they or won’t they.

Also more sad times.

“ ‘Filia, we have to go.” she said.

“But Thancred!” the Oracle of Light cried.

Blue eyes stared at his form. He was ready to fight the Eulmoran general, she could see that. This was a fight that he was adamant on having. His words earlier still ringing in her head. He was going to protect the resolve of this Minifilia with everything he had.

“He knows what he’s doing.” she finally said.

The Warrior of Darkness took a deep breath as she focused her energies into her speed. She nodded towards him before taking Minfilia’s hand and running towards their destination. She didn’t look back. Not even as the sounds of battle began. She couldn’t look back, lest the temptation to fight by his side win out.

He trusted her to protect this child.

That was the least she could do.

‘Don’t you dare die on me Thancred I swear to the Twelve.’

*   *   *

The Warrior of Darkness stopped. She and Minifilia were well on their way to their place. Minfilia stopped as well, seeing her pause. Blue crystalline eyes looked at her in worry.

“Ami? Is something the matter?”

Ami said nothing at first. She could only look down, her hand touching her chest. Something felt wrong. She soon felt a pair of hands reach up to her cheeks, wiping the tears strolling down her face.

‘Tears?’

“Ami, please speak to me.” Minifilia pleaded.

Something felt very very wrong.

She shook her head. It was just the worry coming through, she reasoned. She had every right to be worried. Ran’jit was a foe not to underestimate. The few skirmishes she had with the man well warranted her fears. She knew her Scion couldn’t die. He had cheated death so many times already. When this was all over, they would all meet up again and have a laugh over this.

The pang of emptiness gnawing at her chest didn’t go away.

“I’m fine? We’ve been running for a while, lets take a small break.”

*  *   *

“Your hair, it’s different.” Ami remarked.

Minfilia took a lock of her hair, blue eyes staring at shock. Not only did the Minfilia she had known changed this girl on the inside, to give her full reign over her abilities, but on the outside too. If no one had knew before hand, the girl standing before her now could never had easily figured out as the Oracle. Worry etched on Minfilia’s face.

“Thancred is pr-”

“He’ll be fine.” Ami assured her, “I’ll walk with you to meet him. He doesn’t stand a chance if we double up on him.”

That brought a smile to the young woman’s face.

“You care for him deeply, don’t you?”

Ami froze at that statement. She let out a small sigh. Whether some residual feeling from the Minfilia she knew or just the girl’s excellent observation skills, she couldn’t decipher how she knew. But Ami would not deny it. Not to this girl who shared so much with her.

“I do.” Ami admitted, “He most likely didn’t tell you this, but he was the one who recruited me to the Scions.”

She stared towards the sky, its unyielding light a reminder why they had set out here on this day. A feeling of nostalgia washed over the Warrior of Darkness. Back before all of the battles she would soon face, she was just a novice Pugilist sent to find a noble.

“It feels such a lifetime ago. We have changed in those times since we took down a voidsent together. As comrades and friends we have grown. I can scarcely imagine where I would be in this moment without him.”

She shook her head to will away those thoughts. She soon turned her gaze towards Minfilia, letting a small smile appear on her face.

“The others should be waiting. Let us go meet them.”

*   *   *

Words failed to express what I am seeing before me. We were all together again. But sitting at the steps of an abandoned station was Thancred; and he looked worse for the wear. His pristine white coat caked with dirt and tears at the tails. Dried blood and dirt smudged his skin as well.

I thought back to that moment earlier, where the emptiness had started to hit my chest as he recounted the tale of his encounter with Ran’jit.

He had nearly died.

If it wasn’t for the quick timing of our friends’ healing arts, he would not be standing here.

I took a deep breath as he reunited with Minfil-no, it’s Ryne now. We had said goodbye to a dear friend, one that brought us all together. But we welcomed a new one into our fold.

But it picked at my mind that I could have lost two friends this day.

My hands balled into fists as the realization set in. For the sake of not souring the relieved atmosphere, I kept my emotions hidden. We were so close to the possible location of the Lightwarden here, we couldn’t afford more delays than what we have already. 

I let myself fall back as we traveled through the trolley tracks towards Malikah's Well. Ryne was really taking to her new abilities. Regardless of other events, seeing her with this new found confidence made me proud.

“We’ll have to go deeper.” she said.

We all gathered at the opening to the mining area. It was expansive, so it was ideal that we took a small break to prepare ourselves before exploring its depths. I still couldn’t take my eyes off of Thancred’s current state. It was a harsh reminder of what could have happened.

I dug into my pack and pulled out a bolt of cotton cloth and a vial of filtered water; leftover material from my crafting ventures. I bit into the fabric, making a haphazard strip before pouring the water over it. It was an automatic process as I made my way towards him and began my attempts to clean him up a bit. My hands trembling as I wiped the soaked cloth against his cheek.

It must have took a full minute for him to realize what I was doing before he grabbed my wrists.

“Ami?”

“You look terrible.” I could only say, voice wavering.

There was that smirk that I had come to get used to over the time of knowing him. Any other time, however, I would just play along in a knowing smile too. But I was drained mentally. I dropped the items in my hands on the ground as I lowered my head and the tears pooled around my eyes. It didn’t take long before they soon fell. By some small grace, it wasn’t as obvious I had begun to cry.

It was reminiscent of watching Haurchefant die in front of me; the thoughts of regret and guilt ready to consume me.

Once again, you almost were too late.

How pitiful, you cannot even save those you hold dear.

The stoic mask I had carefully constructed had cracked. The silent tears gave way to muffled sobs, growing louder and louder. The hold on my wrists lessened only to move to my shoulders. Words were being said to the others but I couldn’t discern what was spoken. I was too wrapped up in my emotions to be fully aware of the situation.

“Come now, Warrior of Darkness, no more tears.” a whispered voice spoke.

“I know the others said you are fully healed.” I said, “I don’t trust my healing capabilities but I have some alchemic knowledge. Maybe some of my medicinal remedies could help?”

“Am-”

I shook my head. I was aware that Thancred was speaking to me, but his words seemed foreign in my mental state.

“Your coat is tattered,” I continued on, “I’m no armorer, but the tears should only need a basic stitching. I can do that at least.”

“Ami look at me. I am fine.”

I glanced up at him. The tears still running down my face. His hand gripped my shoulders just a little tighter.

“Please let me do something, anything.” I pleaded, “I can...I cannot-”

His gaze lowered. The concern on him was obvious for me. It would only feed my guilt more. He almost died, and was concerned for me? 

He picked up the cloth and pressed it into my hands.

“If you insist, my dear.”

I nodded before setting to work on cleaning his face with whatever clean cloth I had. The tears still didn’t stop as I wiped down on his skin. Normally I would assure him I was fine.

But I wasn’t.

Something was happening to me with each instance of primordial Light I had absorbed.

The battle at Lakeland still weighed on my mind.

Knowing definitively that Minfilia has passed; someone I felt a kinship to understand my Echo.

All that to top it all off with the realization that I could have lost Thancred too? It was too much. It must have been minutes before the tears eventually slowed. The transition of my guilt to anger coming in as fast as I shift my fighting forms in battle.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you almost died and my weapons are my hands, I would hit you right now.” I admitted.

My hands balled up into fists as my eyes narrowed into a glare. Thancred was surprised at the sudden lowered tone of voice. I took a deep breath before poking his armored chest.

“I don’t know if I should be angry at the fact that you almost died or that you are so nonchalant about it. Godsdammit, this is the fourth bloody time and I don’t think my heart can take much more. I don’t want to keep worrying if the next time I see you is going to be my last. I lost too much to get where I am, I will not lose any more. I...cannot lose any more. If I did, then I-”

I put my arms around his waist as I hugged him. At the time I didn’t care that this was considered out of character for me. I wanted, no needed his presence. I needed to feel that he was here. I felt him stiffen, but eventually he arms circled around my waist too. There was only a head difference between our heights, but I still felt so small in his embrace. Even as the grime rubbed off on the bare parts of my skin, even as the buckles and the metals of his armor dug into me I was content.

If only for a moment.

Regrettably, the reality of the situation has sunken in thus we separated.

Now I couldn’t meet his face.

Sobered up from the crack of my emotional mask, I had come to realize what I had done. I felt myself flush in embarrassment. Whether he took the moment as a response to a friend in need or a different matter entirely, he didn’t comment on it.

I remain hopeful that he is blissfully unaware of what I had unintentionally revealed.

“Ready to rendezvous with the others?” he asked.

“Yes...and thank you.”

I stayed a comfortable distance from Thancred as we walked to the others. Belatedly, I realized that I had cracked in front of them too. I couldn’t meet their gazes as well. 

An apology was right on my lips, for slowing them down. For making them concerned over me and my feelings I should be better at controlling. For ruining a genuine heartfelt moment. 

Almost as if she knew what I wanted to say, Y’shtola put a hand to stop me from uttering a word.

“I take it you have had your fill of making maidens cry today Thancred?” she quipped.

I snapped my head up, shock clear on my face. She smiled at me while having that mischievous glint in her eyes. I didn’t think it was possible for me to blush even deeper. But somehow I was. If it wasn’t for the fact that we had a Lightwarden to slay, I would have hidden away by now. I felt Thancred’s hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly.

“You wound me Y’shtola. I have you know that I am quite used to making maidens cry. Albeit for a different reason.”

“Please, no.” came the dry response, “We need not to enrich the others with that kind of knowledge.”

I snorted at the conversation. The embarrassment giving way to a smile before I laughed. It was reminiscent of old times back home. How, regardless of what mission we went on or how far it would take us, this familial warmth would always be awaiting for us.

“There,” she said, “that’s the look I am used to.”

“Thank you.” I spoke in earnest, “Full glad am I that I am making this journey with you all.”

“Come now, the sentimentality can wait until after we bring the night back.”

“Alisaie is right.” I said, “Let us be off everyone.”