#paper menphina

[astralartefact]

Following the PaperTrail to Tural A Paper Menphina Side Quest

In which Paper Menphina helps Not!Marie NieR Reincarnation retrieve her novelty wine glass of doom and destruction while 2 Pictomancers are just happy to be included for once. i don't know how this always happens but i guess i gave paper menphina a canon story now? hey, and maybe i will reveal it one day!!! probably not

i'm probably doing wuk lamat, erenville and [whoever else i liked] after the expansion just in case somebody gets to change out of his work clothes...

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 12 - Quarry

Quietly he crept through the undergrowth with his bow at the ready, listening for the slightest sign of his quarry. All he had caught yet was one lousy Squirrel and that barely was enough for his own dinner, but certainly not enough to feed a whole tribe.

He wasn’t a bad hunter and of course he also wasn’t the only one of his tribe out and about looking for food. But since Menphina’s loyal hound, the lesser moon glowing red in the sky, had started to behave strangely, the animals of the Black Shroud had become more careful and harder to track down. Almost like they were hiding.

Nhagi’ra agreed with them. Whatever was happening worried him. Something was obviously wrong and the eldest of his tribe had decided to interpret it as a bad omen and spoke of their goddess being angry with them, sending out her loyal companion to punish them. Punish them for what, Nhagi’ra didn’t fully understand but if the wise women said so it had to be true.

But there was no time to worry about this now. The hunger of his family was a more pressing matter and it needed more than a squirrel and a handful of berries to sate it. For a while he had considered going to the city, where the Elezen and Hyur lived, and look for work there, hoping to be able to buy food instead of hunt. On paper it sounded like a good plan but sadly there was nothing other than hunting he was good at which sort of made the whole idea obsolete.

The good news was that Nhagi’ra had spotted a deer about half a bell ago and since then he had tracked it waiting for a good opportunity to strike. He had to make sure his arrow would find its target, this was too good an opportunity to miss.

The bad news was that the animal seemed to have sensed something or someone was stalking it. Always not quite in Nhagi’ra’s field of fire the dear had walked deeper and deeper into the forest and of course the Miqo’te had followed. Now he was no longer sure where he was at all and the deer had disappeared out of his sight entirely.

Carefully he moved through the bushes, trying to remain silent and hidden, but at the same time hoping to catch sight of his prey again. Then he heard a sound further ahead and followed it and finally there the deer was again - standing on a clearing with nothing but a single tree on it. Nothing between his arrow and the game that could feed his family for at least a few days.

He was so focused on the deer that he hadn’t noticed that by now he himself had turned into someone else’s quarry.

Slowly Nhagi’ra stood up and drew his bow, when suddenly a voice appeared behind him.

“Lower your weapon! Now!”, a man commanded.

Alarmed the deer raised its head and leaped away. Nhagi’ra whirled around angrily only to find a spear pointed at his throat. At the other side of the weapon stood an Elezen, staring at him angrily.

“What is it that you think you are doing in this holy place?”, another voice asked and to his left a Hyur woman stepped out of the bushes with a drawn bow in her hands.

Nhagi’ra recognised the armor of the Adders but not yet the situation he was in. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you not just trying to shoot this deer next to the hedgetree?”, the woman asked.

“I was but -“, the Miqo’te started but was interrupted by the Elezen.

“And where are your poacher-friends hiding, mongrel?”, the man scoffed.

“What?”, Nhagi’ra exclaimed as he realised that he was in trouble. “I am no poacher!”

“Didn’t you just admit so yourself?”, the woman asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

“No! I did nothing wrong! I only tried to —“

“Tell that to someone who believes it!”, the man barked and used his spear to knock him off his feet.

Roughly Nhagi’ra landed face first in the mud and before he even realised what happened to him the Adders had shackled his hands behind his back and dragged him off to throw him into a prison cell.

[ahollowgrave]

There was a post asking RPers with moon-worshipping characters how they handle the moon's revelation, especially with Endwalker. But! I am too shy to reblog that with my actual answers so instead I will post this two page rambling under a cut. (:

Okay, so I look at it through two lenses: 1) How much does your average citizen know about the big wide star and everything our beloved Warrior of Light gets up to in saving it all the time?

There are things in the real world I don’t know and things I am shocked to find out other people don’t know!

The history of the Star is vast and dense and no one can possibly know every crumb of it. 

2) Faith requires a sort of peace in knowing you don’t and won’t know certain things. If you have all the answers to all your questions, you don’t need faith.

The asking of questions is vital, here. If you are not curious about the world around you how can you possibly come to love it and those it shelters? If you believe for a second that you have all the answers to all the questions then your curiosity dies. 

That said with Odette and her convent it really boils down to:  They don’t know!

Odette is young, she may not have been alive during Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s defeat. I’m not really sure because time bubbles and I’m very vague with her age because time is my mortal enemy. When the moon started its fall the convent probably took it to mean: gods mad. Who wouldn’t? Even the faithless might pray under such a thing, no?  But the convent is secluded and news is slow to reach them and what does reach them is often embellished or outdated or just untrue. They must pick through the stories they are told and find the truth of the matter - which is subjective, as well! What is true for one might not be true for another. 

It is a bit of a chore, is what I am trying to say, and unreliable narrators are aplenty.

Currently, the Convent believes that earlier scripture naming Dalamud as Menphina’s Loyal Hound were written by Spoken who were trying to make sense of the world around them. They got it wrong, but no doubt there are things we get wrong even now with all our knowledge. 

The point of their faith is not to get things 100% right all the time but rather to meet the star and her denizens with hearts full of love. They don’t allow dogs at the convent, however.

The news out of EW is another matter since it still feels very fresh and new. Odette has stepped into the role of Nun Errant and she does relay information back to her Convent, either in person or via letter. I don’t know if the news of the WoL fighting the 12 made papers and so far it seems that most of the Loporrits that stayed star-side are in Old Sharlayan to learn! A big ship did go beyond the moon but that was… beyond the moon! So, like the nuns, I don’t know! They are but Spoken creatures, they question, yes, but it is difficult for them to see the grand picture being as small as they are.  It should be noted that Odette is not the warrior of light. I try very hard for her to not know everything the warrior of light gets up to in the MSQ because she, realistically, would not know. She’s just some nun! What I CAN say is that if Odette knew everything that I, the player, know she would still worship the Moon and Menphina. Imprisoning Zodiark before more needless death, setting the Loporrits to building a fallback and escape plan, reincarnating her closest and most trusted allies to serve as deities and make sure he cannot be freed? That’s love, baby. Of course, Menphina, the deity of Love, would be the keeper of the moon and its secrets! Also, almost none of this answered the secondary questions but… This is already very long but I could go on about the dark side of the moon, what it means to love, and all that but I’ll end it with this: It is okay for your characters to be wrong and make mistakes, IC! Let them have harmlessly bad and factually untrue opinions. 

BONUS: I recall a question about how a manmade moon might effect a god or goddess who is tied to it! But -- prayer and belief is were deities get their powers.

Well, the 12 as we know them are kind of ‘manmade’ themselves. Yes, Venat sort of reincarnated her most trusted allies, however… It was shown that prayers have the power to change them! We know that this altered Halone in some ways and I believe that it altered Menphina the same. Basically: Enough of her worshippers thought Dalamud was her ‘loyal hound’ and so she got a loyal hound. So, why should the moon(s) be any different?

[the-sycophant]

How does Miss Morning feel about all the other gods compared to how she feels about Menphina?

Apologies this got so long. Lo! A religious character having feelings about religion. ...and me being rambly with Temple beliefs.

Oh well! tl;dr | Oschon is King...for now.

Oschon For many, Oschon is considered to be Menphina's divine lover. Why is that? He is a wanderer of the realm, an explorer of self, and a patron and guide to vagrants. He has wandering legs, wandering hands, a wandering mind. It keeps Him away for who knows how long, and He is sure to be as fickle as a breeze. Maybe He's even reserved and reluctant for affection when He does return, difficult to hold and to talk to. Or maybe He is ravenous for it, immediately diving into the ~divine sheets~ upon arrival. Maybe not even there, taking it instead in the doorway.

Regardless of how He visits or why - He visits, and She lets Him.

Marlowe's Temple believes Menphina loves Him for His unique passion to just be. He loves uniquely and needs to be loved uniquely - and perhaps it's not the same every time. So they keep a constant, they share stories. Stories of shared moments whilst on the move, of the smallest of human interactions, or of finding some small grove no one has laid eyes on in decades. Of singing songs and writing sonnets that declare an anything to an anyone, to a no one, just to do it and put words on paper or in the air even if no one sees or hears but your own eyes and ears. Of crying out joyfully to the birds as a market caravan joins in all off key as they rock down the road, strumming and plucking strings, beating on make-shift drums to pass the time. They laugh and cry together over moments, and She will comfort and love Him in whichever way he might need, gives him a something special He might not get elsewhere. Non-judgmental. They need all not be spoken stories, just felt ones. Scars on the heart or the body that change you, make you grow. It's really all humans can do sometimes, learn as they go, and Oschon is likely the most painfully human out of all of them. So he deals with this pain, again, in his own way. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

And what else can He do but continue onward?

But to bring stories back, He must leave, He must live, and if He wants a bit of lovin' He better have a damned good story when He comes back.

The Temple recognizes that people need to be loved differently, but they try and cater especially to those that follow Oschon's path regardless if they themselves follow Him in their hearts. For many it is a difficult road to walk, willingly or otherwise. It is oft filled with struggles, suffering, solitude. Violence. The manner in which one secures their victory over their own livelihood, to continue living and fighting for one's inner self despite the strife that the outer puts on them is deserving of reward and reprieve. Like Menphina does for Oschon, the Temple provides in a myriad of ways through companionship. Marlowe is one such companion, offering herself to be a friend, sister, lover- a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold, or to merely be a presence in the room, just sharing a space. People change as their stories are written, and loving someone over time, for a long time, can fluctuate.

Marlowe wishes to understand the love between the two gods better, and thus understand Oschon's ward, so she follows in His footsteps when she can. Ultimately she presents herself as a traveling companion. Someone to take with you on your adventures, take part in your stories, and perhaps more if one is keen. She often relies on the generosity of others during on her journey to...wherever it is she's trying to go, carrying and even owning little gil despite appearances. Sharing a ride, a room, a meal - sharing moments of time together until that time is over, regardless of its length. Moments come, moments go. People come, people go. That's life, so joie de vivre! She might even sing one's praises if they make enough of an impression. Albeit poorly.

Oschon is by far the most beloved by Marlowe, deep down even more-so than Menphina. A bit like when people joke that their dog will steal their partner from them, but the dog will still come to heel when called…while making big, sad puppy eyes at their master's lover. How could she not love Oschon as much as Menphina does? Marlowe waits for her own wanderers to return with an ever wagging tail, and sometimes she chases after them if they inspire something more instinctual.

Vagrants also tend to be kind to strays, so that's a plus in her book, too.

Llymlaen While some believe that Oschon is either the lover of Menphina or Llymlaen, the Temple Marlowe is from believes both to be true. He probably has many other lovers as well, but regardless...those that travel the sea are somewhat similar, though they can rely on their crew in times of need. A more adventurous type of travel, where you have to give up a bit more control. You don't have the dirt beneath your feet, can't roll in the grass or hear the birds. A different sort of isolation, at times, but still just as beautiful. Just a bit more dangerous. You are at Her mercy.

Exciting!

Marlowe serves sailors just as much when she is able as they too have wonderful stories. While I mentioned [here] that cats would sometimes go on ships, the same goes for dogs too. A special someone to provide companionship, and to have a bit of a hunt on shore.

Marlowe loves the beach, loves the ocean, water in general. So many great discoveries to find there! (Not to mention the poorly harboured romanticization of pirates from too many steamy romance and adventure books) Nymeia Marlowe has an incredibly sore spot in her heart for the Spinner. Marlowe's primary class is [Oracle], someone with the gift of foresight and incredible magicks. Generally she uses Read Ahead while on the road, providing comfort and care to the groups she travels with, or for merchant caravans to protect them from bandits and highway robberies. It is consistent, useful. The rest is flawed. Incredibly flawed. Her magic does not bend to her will, does not heed her wants or needs. It does what it wants, and it is a gamble every time she casts the magic she's best with. The lack of control makes Marlowe bitter.

It is left to random chance if her magic is to hurt or heal both friends and foes alike, and Marlowe believes Nymeia did it as punishment for being able to glimpse at what she shouldn't. Or maybe it is because Nymeia has seen what the little bitch is capable of. Maybe it was s̶̕ͅo̷̻̐m̷̲̉e̴͓͋t̵̫̿h̵̜̿ḯ̵͜n̷̲̄g̵̮͂ ̷̺̀ else.

Halone Marlowe was raised deep in Coerthas, and though she has been 'out' since the Calamity, Ishgard was not all too kind to Coerthas, and neither was Halone. Those that tried to become perfect found their folly in attempting to imitate the divine when they should have been making their own path. Her and her family have dealt with the Inquisition much. History speaks for itself. Otherwise, She is met with neutrality.

Nald'Thal Marlowe despises dealing with gil, usually doesn't like working with merchants at the top of their hierarchy, fears not for death etc. etc. The entirety of her 'business' is dealing with things. Things that are procured for her in some form or fashion and bestowed upon her for whatever reason, be it because she's ever deserving (she is) or to get something in return (companionship). Things have stories, and for what doesn't she can daydream about it. Where did the item get made? How did it pass from to her companion's hands? To hers? Otherwise the Traders are fine. I guess.

Nophica Marlowe hates the Shroud, but Nophica is...acceptable.

As for The Rest Neutral. Hardly given a thought (or maybe I'm just lazy). She likes the sun, hates reading books. She'd like to meet Rhaglr, though. Bite at his ankles a bit.

------------------------------------ & despite all of the above, all of the gods (even Menphina) are secretly dealt some level of spite. For why is Dalamud not allowed to be raised up amongst them? Because He is a dog? Can not even the most divine, most loyal hound be lifted to godhood?

If she is His Oracle, a mouthpiece for this little god - maybe she can devour the world whole. Grow it anew.

Just for h̸̼̋i̸̟̾m̸̭͗.

TY for the ask, @argentrenard

[tricksterfiction]

Day 9 - Lend an Ear

Time again I find replacements, but they still feel like you

Dolyea Dahkra thrusted the spear head at a dummy, one and two. Three and slash, one and two. Thrust, thrust, thrust, slash. Red eyes focused on mechanically

"I'm feeling slighted, Dolly." Her childhood friend sat on the wood fence, blabbing about her day. Wildly swinging from the gossip generated by career-conjurers, gnarly injuries, and how exhausting it was to keep up with hearing about the workload much less being the one to do it. Dolyea had been training with the lancers in Gridania, following in her older siblings steps. She was completing her reps while Sen Urabe squeezed in a visit while she trained.

"How- so!" Dolyea slashed.

"Well it's Qaor'a again, that - just a step down from me in skill, on paper, catte boy." Sen began, she rolled her wrist to the sky as if the answer to her problems with her rival were to delivered from the Elementals. "Oral presentations he last minute directly referenced my material in a firm rebuttal-"

Dolyea was tuning out, Sen wasn't shy to provide context but gods academia beef sounded dull.

"Uh huh." She said after the long explanation.

"I decided I'm going to seduce his mom."

Dolyea's ear twitched, both scooping at Sen. "Wait, back up. I wasn't listening."

"Do you know her?" Sen carried on, folding her legs up to rest her chin on them. How she was balancing on it was a miracle - her scaly tail was swishing left and right doing the work.

Dolyea's face scrunched up then she laughed, the butt of her lance thumping into the ground, "Are you asking if Keepers all know each other-"

"No, shut up! He said he grew up in the north-ish east-ish end of the Shroud. Near where you used to live."

Sen beckoned her closer, Dolyea leaned in, "Lend me your ear, my friend. Picture it, best case is I blow her fucking mind and I can hold it over his head for the rest of our days. Worst? She just spurs my advances."

"What makes you so confident I know her?" Dolyea was rightfully skeptical, squinting crimson at her.

"You have a mind for faces - let me describe Qaor'a and you'll know, Dolly." Sen went on to describe his features, hair, eye colour - a very biased and unhelpful disposition description. Dolyea's face went from coolly skeptical to dropping with realization.

The Keeper groaned running her hand over her face. "Son of Menphina," She swore, "I do remember his family."

"You do!" Sen jumped down from the fence, slowing pumping her fist.

"Now hold on, I don't want to be implicated in this bizarre pissing contest and the reason I remember her," Dolyea cautioned, "Is because she is an asshole. Qaor'a wasn't supposed to be a conjurer, but no right minded matriarch scoffs at a healer in the family."

Sen made a face, "Ew, mommy issues."

Dolyea smooshed her face with both hands, "You have mommy issues!"

"What are you talking about, I have a great relationship with my Mama."

Dolyea rolled her eyes, squishing her cheeks her sarcasm biting as ever, "Yeah because your relationship is so great and healthy, you totally don't feel like shit every time your mom makes a face or comments about your appearance."

"We're not talking about my mommy issues!" Sen flapped her hands away. "Will you help me?"

"Gods, okay. Yes - you owe me some good moko grass."

"Deal."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A fortnight later...

Sen was shot down faster than a wounded animal bleeding out in a trap.

[xenodile]

So in terms of how I write Byl, hmm how does Dawntrail go for her

Bylgrael had a streak of really bad depression after Endwalker. Scions disband and have their own things to do, she's achieved her lifelong goal of becoming a hero, but now she's without purpose. G'raha is busy with the Students, and the twins are off in Garlemald, which is difficult for her because the events of Garlemald in Endwalker proper left Byl with some very deep emotional scars. Feeling directionless and unneeded, Byl ends up in a very bad space mentally.

She gets into gathering and crafting as a way to distract herself, putting her talents to work doing something creative or productive after all the time she's spent as a weapon, and it helps to a degree, but the core problem is she's lonely and fears that the three people she loves the most won't want her any more now that she's not immediately useful to them.

Tataru obviously catches on to this because Byl is spending a lot of time in Sharlayan and is noticeably crestfallen, so she sets up the whole private island thing and brings it G'raha's attention. G'raha keeps on eye on Byl, and finally things come together when they go through Euphrosyne and Byl fights Menphina, and Bylgrael's thoughts on love get plastered all over the walls. After that, G'raha takes some time to check in with the twins and tell them about how poorly Byl is doing, and they decide to do something about it.

I toyed with the idea of like, the situation being difficult, because the polycule is four people, and two of them are siblings, so I think that Alphinaud and Byl getting married on paper just for simplicity and peace of mind is the way to go. Alphinaud is definitely the type to have been thinking of Byl as "My wife" as far back as when they first had sex in post-Heavensward, so he's the obvious candidate. So the G'raha, Alphinaud, and Alisaie find some time to visit Byl on her private island and just reaffirm to her that they love her and they're not going anywhere, even if their goals take them elsewhere.

That all leads in to Dawntrail as the honeymoon trip. Byl really needs some time with Alphinaud and Alisaie to relax and make happy memories since the they'll be busy in Garlemald for the foreseeable future. Wuk Lamat arriving and inviting Byl to help her bid for succession is the perfect excuse for a trip, and the twins invite themselves along because this is exactly what they needed.

Once in Tural proper, Bylgrael is treating it more like being a bodyguard than anything else. Wuk Lamat's her own person, and Byl's not really interested in politics. She's the muscle to make sure Wuk Lamat stays safe, which Gulool Ja Ja only reinforces with his personal request. She's more relaxed and easy going, but is also a bit more snippy and impatient. She already saved the damn planet and has a happy relationship, she's no longer in 24/7 people pleaser mode and is willing to be a bit more selfish.

As events progress however, she starts getting more and more aggro. It definitely reaches a point where she's eyeballing Zoraal Ja and Bakool Ja Ja as "it's not a matter of if, but when, I'm going to kill you" and starts feeling annoyed when Koana and Wuk Lamat and others insist of diplomacy and understanding. She's not gonna force the issue but it definitely grates on her after a fashion.

Once Wuk Lamat becomes Vow of Resolve and offers her a job, Byl just rejects it from the jump. She likes Wuk Lamat, she's proud of her, but Byl isn't here to be a royal advisor. Bylgrael is a killer, a weapon to be wielded. Wuk Lamat doesn't need a weapon, she needs a mentor and advisor, and Bylgrael knows herself well enough to know that's not her.

When all the stuff with Solution Nine and Sphene goes down, it's almost a relief because THIS is what Byl is good at. This is where she's in her element. Sphene reminds her of Emet-Selch and Elidibus, but for that very reason she doesn't hesitate for a moment.

Going through Living Memory and seeing everyone get closure with their families across the whole adventure however, it does leave her...restless. It's been a long time since she's seen her dad after all, and the family desire has definitely been rekindled. With the key to interdimensional travel in her hands, she's also feeling pretty excited to see other Shards.

Who knows what the future will hold...

[neriyon]

For the WoL ask meme!

9. What's in your WoL's travel bag? Any trinkets? Any vital items they cant go without? Do they travel light and figure stuff out on the fly, or do they bring way too much with them? (Bonus points if you have images!)

Hawu'li's bags (the one on his person and the one on his chocobo) are usually very messy and filled to the brim. Mostly foodstuffs, but also materia, change of clothes, some potions of varying effects (possibly over their best before date), loose change, dyes, a cool leaf he found... There's also a beat up journal and his summoner tome sitting there, as well as some ink and paper for letters. Oh and treats for his chocobo, can't go out without those.

He never really leaves home without his staff (but that won't fit in a bag), and very rarely without the tome, and while they aren't usually in the bag either: his Menphina earring and white lily corsage.

[writeraven]

LOVE IS IN THE AIR — 01

CHAPTERS: [ 01 | 02 | 03 ]

TAGS: [ isorawrites. » Chronogenesis » Tales from the Carnivals ]

LINKS: [ Tumblr » Story, Collection, Project | AO3 » Work, Collection, Series ]

MUSES: Sora Amariyo. NPC: Zhloe Aliapoh (mentioned).

01 — Coerthas Western Highlands.

ET 11:00 PM

“Dashing through the snow On a singing chocobo Under the starlight Grinning with delight—”

“Shut up, Juno.”

No one in their right mind would be out on a night raging with a snowstorm, arguing over petty things at the top of the rocky Twinpools mountains. No one, except a trio of the oddest companions you wouldn’t usually find across Eorzea, all of whom shared similar paleness that could blend in with the whitewashed scenery.

If only they weren’t too busy bickering with each other to enjoy the winter wonderland.

The singer was a wind-up minion in the likeness of the Queen of Shadows, Scathach, with an air of haughtiness that didn’t diminish with its miniature size. The subject of its merry song was a snow-white chocobo that failed to camouflage into the background with its bright red barding, reminiscent of the one given out at the Starlight event in Gridania a few days ago. The leader of the trio, a female Xaela in tuxedo with a monocle eyepiece that didn’t quite suit her, snatched the minion off the air and threw it violently at the icy ground.

“K-Kweh.”

The chocobo shuddered, nudging the Auri girl gently with its beak before moving in closer, ruffling its feathers against her. It clearly didn’t like to be out in the cold, and it wanted to snuggle up to its owner for warmth. The Xaela then turned her attention to the chocobo, ignoring the spluttering wind-up Scathach that finally poked its head out of the snow.

“Come on, you’d never know if you didn’t try! Shiro would make a fine addition to the Chocobo Choir and we’ll have the gils rolling in no time!”

“You only want me to ditch Shiro for the money. Not happening.”

Sora Amariyo gave Juno the talking-toy Scathach a death glare, then she—they—pulled out a letter from their pocket. They could recall the frantic delivery moogle that dragged itself across the stone ground at Falcon’s Nest to pass the juice-stained envelope to them. They also felt a little sorry for scaring the poor fellow when it called them ma’am because of their physical gender. Sighing, they glanced down at the yellowing paper to read its contents for the third time today.

Dearest Sora, How are you? It has been almost a year since the last time you visited the children at Menphina’s Arms. They really missed you—and I miss you, too. The stories of your grand adventures keep them in high spirits while you bring back collectibles and gils to the orphanage. We’re literally thriving here! I can’t thank you enough for all your help—now I don’t have to break my teeth on the frozen pineapple pudding I’ve been trying to save for weeks, and I can share them with the other kids too! Can’t wait to see you soon! With lots of love, Zhloe P.S. Khloe misses you so much that she can’t stop talking about you over dinner every evening!

Sora shook their head, but not without breaking a small smile at the thought of the upbeat (albeit scatterbrained) Miqo’te trying her best for the orphans of Idyllshire to repay the kindness she had received as a child. They didn’t want to admit that they empathized with her cause; they had a similar past, though with more complications they didn’t like to babble to strangers. Unlike Zhloe Aliapoh, their late foster mother, I’suca Amariyo, wasn’t exactly a caring person; they still wondered from time to time what her true agenda was when she saved them as an infant fifteen summers ago.

Tucking the letter into their pocket, they glanced up at the night sky. A hint of disappointment flashed across their face; they wouldn't catch the aurora lights tonight with the snowstorm roaring around them. They shrugged, hopping onto Shiro’s back with a determined look.

“Alright buddy, it’s time for work.”

Support me on Ko-fi — https://ko-fi.com/whyraven. Thank you very much for your continuous support☕

[just-thal]

FFXIVWrite 2022 1. Cross

Shtaareh crossed the threshold to Ul'dah. He looked up at his father and saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes, a smile strained under its own weight. He shone the light back with his own as they reflected the flickering lanterns and luminous windows that lined the streets. There would be hearty meals behind their moth bitten curtains; the family çaydanlık would always steam against peeling yellowed wallpaper. Shtaareh tapped the dried moon daisies his mother hung from every rotting rafter, humming in circles. He sought the city's secrets and kept his own close.

X'shtaareh crossed pluto and blackroot rose—wisdom from the guild. He took in the acrid smoke and took in vigour from it. He crossed somnus and milkroot, even touches of coffee and tea just to see what would happen. He stirred in foam from cactus, ground talons as he learnt from his father. He let the beakers sit under the moon and nourish from it as he learnt from his mother. They cast Menphina's glow at him and he smiled at the rippling liquid.

Moui crossed the strip into Pearl Lane and soon he was known there. He leant on pockmarked walls with arms crossed, surveying so that he would not be surveyed. He learnt to blank his eyes so he could see into others and they couldn't see into him. He found how to narrow them so the manufactured wrinkles painted him stronger than he was. He brought home paltry bags that still rattled with coin; his father nodded and never asked.

Shtaareh crossed the hanging daisies into his room and slammed the door without touching them. He screamed and screamed and hurled colourful bottles to shatter against the wounded walls. They wept in myriad hues and shed scraps of paper. His father knocked and told him it would be okay. His mother knocked and told him they did not blame him. He only buried his head in his arms to wail. He looked down at them and saw his truths etched there.

Shish crossed the bridge to Radz-at-Han, alone. Vivid stone paved his way and bright walls lit it. Pleasant aromas followed him through the baazaar and the bustle opened its arms to him. There was the meyhane, bidding him welcome; there were pleasant faces that offered solace. Shish looked at all this, took it all in with his eyes deep as moonless night, and there was no glimmer in them.

[luck-and-larceny]

Nymeia, the Spinner: 12. Describe an instance where your character experienced a direct consequence of the ‘butterfly effect’. Halone, the Fury: 1. How protective is your character over their possessions and/or loved ones? Menphina, the Lover: 6. How romantic is your character?

OOC: Oh man. This is gonna be a long one. Please buckle in for what amounts to a short story with that first answer. Sorry!

Describe an instance where your character experienced a direct consequence of the ‘butterfly effect’.

"Ok. Sure. Let's think of a fun one.

There is a crooked businessman named Wayward Sun. He opens a ton of businesses and then runs them poorly and treats his employees like trash. My biggest dream is to drain him of so much money and reputation that he can never open another one. I’ve done this a few times and we now have a healthy, mutual, absolutely raging, burning hatred of one another.

So here’s the story:

I needed to get into an exclusive club he started for wealthy socialites. Boring. Those are a gil a dozen. But this one was his and that meant I needed to fuck it up. I knew that he had a safe in his office and that the office was behind the front desk.

The problem was that he had an amazing employee working there named Delilah who he loved to abuse and for whatever godsforsaken reason just let him bully her. She never moved away from the front desk. She was irritating in just how competent she was at her job. No trick I tried would ever get her out of the way long enough for me to get to that door to unlock it.

I figured I’d just have to make do. I’d have to pin my hopes on luck. One evening I decided I’d just have to go in disguised as another employee during a busy period and see if I could figure out another way inside that office or, at the very least, a different, fun way to fuck things up.

I got myself ready. And at the exact moment I burst in the front door in disguise, Wayward Sun had decided to fire Delilah because he said she’d left the safe in his office open. She was beside herself tearfully apologizing as she asked for her last check. He howled at her to leave his establishment and hand him her keys. She politely handed them over (she should have thrown them at his face) and left distraught. And Wayward Sun? He didn’t pay any attention to who most of his employees were. He saw me and told me that I needed to man the front desk for the rest of the night.

And handed me the keys.

And then he left! The front desk was unmanned and the office door was left unattended. And I didn’t even need to use my lockpicks on it because I had the key! I slipped inside to find that Wayward Sun, who had just fired an employee for not closing his safe, had left his safe wide open to do so. Inside was a significant amount of gil (obviously) and more paperwork that detailed other locations he was considering opening up with that gil. Just on a lark, I also decided to also take every important paper off his desk. And wouldn’t you know it? I found on the top a list of all the employees and where they lived.

To make it clear that his real worst enemy was himself, his second worst enemy was me, and that Delilah had nothing to do with this- I carved a beautiful picture of myself into his incredibly elegant and expensive desk with a letter opener I found sitting prettily on that desk. It took more time than I wanted it to, so I was forced to just use ink on the wall to get my point across: “It’s me again! Thanks for the keys!”

And, of course, now that I knew Delilah’s address, I went there to drop off the money. I snuck in and placed it at the foot of her bed with a note telling her to find a way to share it with the other employees at the club if she could and gave her the address of a newly vacated apartment to move into. I knew it was newly vacated because it was mine and I had vacated it, on a whim, just that morning.

How protective is your character over their possessions and/or loved ones?

"My items and the people I love don’t need me to protect them. If you are able to steal my things, I think you should have them (right until I steal them back). If you attempt to hurt the people I care about I imagine they will fuck you up much worse than I ever could."

OOC: There are a few items that if you steal them from her she will lose her shit. I could put what they are here- but it might be more fun if I don’t!

She is pretending like she isn’t often a malicious, chaotic tornado of sheer spite when people she cares about are attacked. What a lie. She isn’t over-protective of people. And she’s not remotely possessive. But if someone does manage to hurt someone she cares about or threatens to do so while she is nearby, that person is in for a world of pain. Perhaps not physically. But she will do what she can to ruin that person and will not rest until she is satisfied. Yay?

How romantic is your character?

“Eh. If you give me roses they're just going to die. I'm not good at caring for things. Or people."

OOC: She's a remarkably romantic character no matter how she might try to deny it. There's inherent romance in believing that things are going to go exactly how they should go (even if that means badly) and that every single thing–even the mundane– especially the mundane– is beautiful. She is passionate about and swayed by music. She is moved by thrills and mysteries. She loves people. Not just as individuals, but as a whole. Everyone has their own story, their own quirks, their own desires, their own motivations…

She's a con artist and often exploits those things she loves about people buuuut-

I'd say the degree to which she secretly is inspired and moved by the world and the people around her is deeply romantic.

Thanks for the Asks! Sorry it's so loooooong.

[melkupo]

Call and Response.

14th Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon.

Would that there were gods of mercy in the heavens above, and that Menphina heard the agonized cries of my wounded heart and took pity on me. Would that the stars could be moved to compassion the way a softened heart can be moved to love. If the gods could feel a tenth the agony that wraps frozen fingers around my throat, would they let me suffer so? And that is how I know that the Twelve are not merciful, and how I know that any higher power is as cold and as uncaring as the edge of a sharpened blade.

You only ever promised me that you would remember. Not wanting to make promises you couldn’t keep, you never promised me what I wanted you to. You never took any oath that I wouldn’t lose you young. You never promised we could stay where we belonged, side-by-side. Only that you would remember. That was the one indomitable promise. No matter what happened, you could remember me. And now what? Now a stranger sits in your flesh, and you’re gone.

There’s nothing to bury, Atvir. I begged you not to force me to bury you. Now I wish you had, because I am going to bed alone all the same, but I will never get a proper goodbye. Dagasi says it’s just like you to leave without a goodbye. I don’t care about that, I just want you to remember me.

You don’t have to love me anymore. You don’t have to like me. I failed you. I promised I’d help you. I promised I’d fix this with you, and that I’d devote every second of myself to freeing you. And I almost did. Until the final two nights. I stopped. You asked me to stop. To just rest. Atvir, I shouldn’t have rested. I should have kept searching, maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I could have saved you.

Maybe if I hadn’t struck the voidsent you summoned with the orb so soon. Maybe if I’d managed to drag you away when you fell to the sand. If I had just done better, tried harder, been smarter and stronger, I could have saved you. It couldn’t have been hopeless. If I were worth more, I could have saved you. Please come back, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

We found your journal, the stranger and I. He was merciful enough to let me read your final entry. Your last words. You have always, alway, deserved my kindness and more. I’ve never loved anything better than I love you. I never will. I have another three hundred years left, and not one of them will be shared with a love as potent as mine for you.

But you don’t have to love me back anymore. Not if you remember how I failed you. I just want you back. I just want to say goodbye, please. Let me say goodbye.

-Mel.

The paper ignited at the edges, fire crackling as it devoured the parchment, carrying wisps of smoke to the unfeeling, heartless heavens above. A tapestry of stars covered the land in the shroud of night. Mel’s hand retreated back into the sleeve of the midnight blue sweater. Its scent was already fading and being replaced by her own, but she clung desperately to what was left. And she found almost nothing to cling to. For nothing remained.

@atviera

[astralartefact]

Paper Menphina and the Paper-thin Apocalypse Anomb, Konomb, 2Binji and 2Pinji

For anyone who missed the first post there is no coherent explanation for this.

[irwinxiv]

Irwin Caldwell

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: Mid 20s

Birthday: 11th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon | Dec. 11

Race: Au Ra - Raen

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Marital Status: Single

Server: -

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Silvery White, short, fluffy, and fashionably messy

Eyes: Green (Bright Green Limbal Rings)

Complexion: Pale/white

Height: 5 Fulms 5 Ilms | 5'5"

Build: Athletic, great arms

Distinguishing Marks: More scale coverage than the average Au Ra, White and sometimes opalescent scales, small fangs, absurdly long and tapered tail, breath sometimes mists up

Common Accessories: Floral adornments on his horns, Sometimes has his Valentiones Feathered Hat

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Adventurer, Messenger/Postman, Scribe

Hobbies: Fishing, Sightseeing/Traveling, Sketching, Singing (he isn't that good at it)

Residence: Ishgard (permanent residence) Usually stays in random inns on the road

Birthplace: Limsa Lominsa

Religion: The Twelve

Patron Deity: Menphina

Fears: Heights

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Parents: Chloe Valentione (Mom) , Kaede (Mom)

Other Relatives: House Valentione

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: Tried it once, almost coughed out his lungs Drugs: Hasn't tried Alcohol: Social drinker

Optional: Irwin does have the echo but isn't entirely aware of what it is. He has an unerring sense of direction. Whether looking for an object or a person, he knows what general area to look for. The more information he has, the more precise his internal compass is.

RP HOOKS ––– –

Good ol' Adventuring! - Irwin has signed on with the adventurer’s guild and takes up all manner of tasks and requests. Perhaps you’ve both been matched to accomplish one such task. Or you have a request of your own?

Services of House Valentione - While he didn’t take up the name, Irwin is ever happy to take part of the House’s duties. After all, love doesn’t just happen during Valentione’s day, it is a constant in every day. Often he travels to distant places to act as messenger delivering heart-felt letters and sweet treats to distant loved ones. Or he acts as a scribe to help those who cannot write put their hearts on paper.

Excitable Tourist - Having picked up the ever popular Sightseeing Log. Irwin wishes to decipher its secrets behind the riddles and see for himself these coveted sights. In cities, he tries to experience what he can. Trying local fare, taking the backroads, visiting bars and inns, exploring the nightlife, you name it- he’ll probably try it. Unfortunately, this also has placed him in compromising positions.

Optional - Bearer of the Echo - Perhaps you see each other in visions past. Some form of contact between the blessing of light. Or you see him experiencing a wicked migraine.

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

In-Game - Irwin Caldwell

Discord - Send me an ask!

More on Irwin in his about page and others!

[psijic-toast]

FFXIVwrite 3: Temper

Ao3 Link if you’d rather read it there! [Cw adult Language... I think] T’ahria didn’t know what Fray was getting at, sending her down to Thanalan at a time like this. She had explained that she was in a similar position to him, right? “Hey, the local authorities of that area want my head on a pike, just like the temple knights wanted yours”. She had told him leaving Coerthas would be a bad Idea.

So, by Menphina, why did he tell her to, and, By Azeyma, why did she listen.

Even without the looming threat of false charges and punishment, she had zero enthusiasm for this trip. She had only just acclimated to the Ishgardian cold, and was now roasting in the Thanalan sun. Her armour did little to help, only being a hindrance, leading her to shuck off what she could; which meant her greaves, cuisses and sabatons clanked about in her pack, irritating her just as much as the bugs.

It can’t much worse than this at least.

“You there! Halt!”

Warden give me strength

Briefly, she wondered how she didn’t spot them; Their blue jackets and hats stuck out like sore thumbs. They appeared to be manning a checkpoint, set up at the crossing between Sandgate and Broken Water. Three Crystal braves took note of her, an Elezen, a Lalafell and a Hyur on the younger side, possibly a teen.

She didn’t recognise any of them, hadn’t met them in person perhaps. Which was good, as while she had styled herself differently -hair dyed, cut and styled, eye patch to hide her echo-touched iris, plate mail in place of a woollen doublet- she didn’t want to test her disguise against familiar eyes.

“What can I do for you, gents?”

“We’re taking record of all who pass this point” The elezen was the one to approach her. In one gloved hand he held a clipboard, in the other a pen. “Please state your name”

“Dawn Lhezenjy” the lie rolled out easily, pre-determined and practised.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Gridania”

“What’s your purpose in Thanalan?”

“I’m meeting my instructor just outside Little Ala Mhigo”

He scribbled all her answers down efficiently, seemingly mulling them over for a moment before nodding. T’ahria took it as a sign to move on, only to be stopped by the Hyur man holding a stack of papers out to her.

“Do you recognize any of these people?”

They were wanted posters. A thick stack of them too. Y’shtola , Thancred, Yda, Papalymo, Minfillia, Hoary, Coultenet, Alphinaud, even Tataru. Her real name was in the stack too, though the picture was of a woman she didn’t recognise: A Miqo’te girl with black hair and two matching blue eyes. Briefly she wondered if she had an ally in the printing press, aiding her by keeping her appearance a secret -or if her name truly did shield her so much.

“None of them, really. Think I saw him at the Quicksand once, but that was a while back”

“These are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, they are wanted for treason against the Sultanate, and the Eorzean Alliance as a whole” the elezen started explaining. T’ahria held her tongue. “All are considered armed and dangerous. If you see them, it’s advised for you to keep your distance and alert the closets Braves squad you can find”

“I’ll keep that in mind-”

“Good for nothing Scions” The hyur kicked off, voice low, like he didn’t want to be overheard, but not low enough. “Dirty fucking traitors, the lot of them. Probably all on the Imperial payroll”

“One of them was revealed to be an Imperial Spy already, wasn't he?” The lalafell now joined in. “And they didn’t do anything about him! How much more obvious could it be?”

“I heard that warrior of light absorbed Primals just like that ultima weapon thing did. That’s how she got so close with all the higher ups; She tempered them”

“Here I just assumed she was sleeping with ‘em. I mean, how do you know the Ultima weapon was even a thing? They could have just made it up! Blew up that Garlean base to hide the evidence”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” The elezen finally cut in. “I was at that battle. I saw the weapon. The Scions served us well then. But they are a power-hungry lot who only want Eorzea for themselves. We are lucky that Captain Ilberd managed to put a stop to it before the Sultana got - Ma’am are you alright?”

No, was the correct answer. Her blood was boiling; She didn’t know whether to yell, cry, or just laugh at the absurdity of it all. She wanted to scream at them - Thancred wasn’t a spy, she didn’t temper people, they just wanted to protect Eorzea - she just wanted to help people! Ilberd was lying!

“No” T’ahria answered. “I think the heat is getting to me. I’m still not use to my armour”

“In that case, you would take a rest” He moved a hand to her shoulder -it burned where he touched her- and directed her gaze over to the shade provided by the outcrop. “Feel free to have some water from our waterskins. The crate’s just there. Someone will come check on you in a bit”

Ten minutes later, when a Brave went to check on her, Dawn Lhezenjy had already moved on, and a large slit had been cut down every single waterskin in the box.

[rebelichor]

Little bit convoluted for Ariadne to genuinely wear the forum uniform so young in her life, but I imagine it was a great ambition of hers.

Her background in FFXIV isn’t well thought out. Partially laziness, partially me never having roleplayed in that setting before, I just play the game and enjoy it for what it is without going too deep. The following is my messy attempt at stringing together an AU background.

Formerly known as ‘Xeha’, Ariadne is a daughter of the Shroud and Keeper of the Moon. ‘Nihilis’ isn’t matronymic. Rather it is considered a shame, because it means she was born not of a Moon mother, but an outsider. Her tail is that of a lion. It is a symbol of ‘possessing great pride’, and once thought of as a noble trait.

She can’t remember the last time she padded as one with the forest. The proud huntress was tamed at a young age, her bow little more than a wall decoration from halcyon days.

Ariadne came to live with her ‘outsider’ family in Old Sharlayan after many years of her mother fighting for negotiating her papers. Savagery removed, she instead walked the path of the learned. It came to her as naturally as breathing. Born beneath the light of a full moon, her guardian Menphina, hers was a soul born to wield astromancy. 

Being of a nocturnal race the sunlight impairs her vision, but she has innate skill over studying the stars.

[ancsthctist-archived]

💭

//. @vierandancer // see a memory from my muse's past // meiko

     It's a portrait painted with dust and smoke. He can hardly breathe for the terror, the chaos and confusion and the noise--oh, the noise. He couldn't keep his ears flat against his hair for long, and the ringing starts far sooner than it ought, knocked off his feet by a blast that came from nowhere. The sun long since set, and Menphina's Hound hung low in the sky, the barriers twixt individual pieces of unnatural make beginning to glow. But his attention is far away from the horror of its descent--long since had it begun its journey from its place beside the moon. Rham'ir knew not what Project Meteor was in its entirety, but the Circle of Knowing had ultimately failed to stop it, and the fighting at Carteneau seemed to only have scarce begun. An accomplished healer he was, but no incalculable amount of training could have prepared him. Not for war.

     Not for this.

     His training as a Marauder had served him well, even as a combat medic. Reflexes and stamina stayed with him, even as he slung spells and dodged blows that no doubt would have killed him. But there was only so much he could manage--as he drew to save one, do five others die, while many more lay dying, screaming in the mud for their missing limbs or bodies scorched by Garlean fire. Rham'ir had seen a good variety of injuries in his training. But these were beyond his capabilities. He grabs the hand of a soldier he assumes was trapped under debris. He soon finds the hand is all that's left of him. He feels himself pulled away--violently--though he knows not by whom, and he struggles to push the shock down, force it down into its bottle at the bottom of his stomach. But all he can focus on is the howling of the battlefield around him--the whirring of machinery and the shouting of men and women giving their lives for their own causes. The roar of fire and bullets, the sickening crack of blade in flesh.

     The screams of the dying. The smell of their blood and viscera painting the soil beneath them. The sizzling aether of Menphina's Hound above them is almost too much for him to bear, and he looks for his partner. His beloved. If nobody else were to survive this battle, he would ensure the two of them did. Together. Just like he promised. They'd put this horrible memory behind them and move, perhaps to Limsa. Retire on a veteran's paycheck. Become farmers. Raise animals, perhaps. Lead the simple life.

     There's an explosion. A hail of bullets. He's sent flying and rolling, and he's winded. Staff sent and broken, splintered into pieces and scattering across the ground. He doesn't move for a few minutes, briefly welcoming the embrace of sleep before he jolts himself back to the realm of the living--Where is he? where is he? he must find him. He must find him, ensure he's okay. Deafened to the roiling chaos, blind to the looming Hound, he crawls towards familiar dirty blond fur, each pull of his arms a scream in his bones. Something's broken. Something's hurt, but he can't stop. He needs--blood. He smells blood.

     he can only focus on the hitched breathing of his partner, as he stares up into the sky, green eyes unblinking with hands over his abdomen, all but spilling out in large gaping wounds. he feels his chest tighten, and a sound not of his own making leaves him, barely heard above the muffled chaos surrounding them. he knows instantly that it can't be fixed. but still his hands go to rip open the fabric, adrenaline forcing open the shredded armor, pierced as if it were paper by garlean bullets. his hands immediately go over h'nhamu's, aether flickering a light blue in his attempt to mend what's been decimated. he doesn't know it, but he's shrieking, throat tight and burning and tears stinging his eyes, and he can't stop--he can't stop.

     that soft, rough voice pierces his ears, a gloved hand grabbing his, a once-strong hand now laboring to squeeze.

     " darlin'--hey, hey-- " fewer things can pull rham'ir out of a frenzy, and it only barely works. his horrified screams only quiet to whimpers, and for the first time he looks to h'nhamu's face.

     " ah, ah need ya tae relax, " his breathing uneven, " j-just relax for me, like we practiced, yea? breathe in, an' breathe out... we... we're gonna get outta this, ye and i, remembr...? i'll... i'll get ye a nice big fancy rock, an' we'll... we'll build a n-nice cabin. jus' th' two of us... an... ah'm askin' ye tae marry me--aye? an'... an' we'll have a little weddin' with all the lads... jus' ah need ye... ah need ye t'relax... yea...? or... or ye'll... " rham'ir cannot listen. eyes squeeze shut as he struggles to stifle a sob, aether flickering in and out around his hand. the wounds weren't mending. they weren't mending.

     " ye'll... ye'll marry me, right? " he spoke up again, voice growing quiet. eyes losing focus. grip... loosening.

     rham'ir can't answer. but he nods. he nods as he continues to struggle.

      h'nhamu forces a smile. but it's weak. barely there.

     " yea... tha's... that's jus' lovely... aye... ah jus' wan' ye... tae stop... ...cryin'... yer too pretty tae... ...tae be..."

     his breath leaves him and he relaxes, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. rham'ir's own breath hitches and he can't control it. he grabs the collar h'nhamu's armor and shakes. he cannot hear his own screaming, nor the cracking of the Hound's shell above him.