#scion life

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 24: red skies at morning

The moon is red.

The moon is red, and Menphina’s hound is growling.

And the Puk tribe of Thanalan, they of the rock-cut tombs and the aldgoat herds and the long memories, can do nothing. Mothers clutch their children close. Aldgoats’ milk runs dry. Cheese spoils before its time. There are voidsent sightings in Drybone, mass goobbue migrations towards Ul’dah, rumblings that the Garlean Empire is truly preparing for another war. Amidst all this, how is Q’yala Terret supposed to concentrate on her own duties?

But she is a priestess of Azeyma, and the sun does not stop rising because the moon is filled with blood. So she rises with it, singing as she goes. At noon, she dances, flinging dried flower petals in the air with each swirl of her skirt. In the evening, she is the first to light the braziers. Her aunt, the current head priestess, narrows her eyes in that way that lets her know she’s being overzealous, but she doesn’t care. She has a duty. And she will perform it, because—

Because the alternative is to still be awake when the moons rise. First silver, and then red red red—

Red as her aunt’s eyes. Red as the fire flickering in the braziers.

The red moon is getting closer.

Closer.

And then—

—One day—

It falls.

Dalamud cracks open like an egg, shards raining down on the defenseless land below. By some miracle, their tribe is spared, but their southern herding grounds are simply...gone. Only twisted loops of violently orange crystals remain. She hears that Louisoix Leveilleur and his organization are the only reason it isn’t worse, that the dragon-god Bahamut would otherwise have destroyed them all. She believes it.

Her tribe is divided on the question. Her father thinks they’ve done all they could, and they should simply thank Azeyma their tribe was spared. Her uncle Tenbe thinks the Garleans were somehow in league with the Amal’jaa—none of them have seen Bahamut, after all, and who else summons primals except beasts? Her mother keeps her mouth shut, and nobody knows what she thinks.

“It is done, Yalila,” she murmurs as she helps Yala brush out her long red hair, the same way she did when Yala was very small. “There is no use assigning blame. We are alive, are we not? And so the goats must be milked regardless.”

She finds she is not much interested in milking goats anymore. Neither, it seems, are most of the rest of the tribe. Tempers flare brighter than the sun, each of them rocked by the wake of the Calamity and seeking to cling to what they can control. Knowing what’s going on doesn’t make it harder to swallow, especially when her sisters and little mothers and aunts are all at each other’s throats and she can do nothing.

Well. She can do something. She can leave. If there’s one less position to fight over, one less point of friction, maybe things will be better. And they get a lot of news, here so close to Camp Drybone and the church. The Scions are wanting someone to deal with the beast tribes. She can do that. She can do that well.

And so, six months after the Calamity, Q’yala Terret arrives in the Waking Sands.

[cloudpalettes]

some scones

[travelling-hydaelyn]

I too would thank y’shtola for teleporting me far away from work and forcing me to live in the wood for a few months

[ahollowgrave]

Tempest (noun):  1. A violent windstorm, frequently accompanied by rain, snow, or hail. 2. Furious agitation, commotion, or tumult; an uproar. A warrior of light and a scion The Pendants, the Crystarium

The storm squatting over the Crystarium does its best to make itself known. Rain lashes the window, wind whistles through the cracks of the frame, lightening presses its luminous face to the glass. Jealous and demanding. Desperate to be acknowledged. But you’re not watching the storm outside. You’re not even listening to it.

No, your eyes track the storm currently rampaging through your inn room. It wears the skin of a girl -- a girl you know very well. Prudence Dubois always paces when she’s truly agitated and now she’s walking corner to corner, back and forth, kicking things out of her way. She’s screamed and cussed and sworn violent, ugly oaths. She’s thrown the same chair from one side to the other, splintering it and now carries one of the legs to further emphasize her many points. She’s beautiful. Her freckled face is usually frozen in a frown of perpetual disappointment. Now it is twisted and red and spittle flies from her mouth as another string of curses leave it. Prudence rakes her shaking hands through her short hair. Sweat slicks it back. An improvement  over all, you decide, out of her eyes at the very least. 

Prudence wheels on you, suddenly, the dark of her eyes burning like coals. You become a target. All her anger and hurt and fear all shaped like you. You’ve never minded. She’s beautiful. Throughout this outburst you have sat quietly, hands folded neatly in your lap -- moving only to nod your agreement or voice some vague sound of sympathy. The catalyst remains a mystery to you. She was already storming when you arrived home and her words come in a flood; you’ve picked out the Exarch’s title and Emet’s name and decided you need not pry further. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the door crack, opening silently, and a white-haired head pokes itself in. Then a second. Two too-curious twins. You expected them earlier. You shake your head and as the door swings shut your shoulders release some of their tension. It all goes unnoticed by the stormcloud. Prudence will tire herself eventually. She will come to you, crawling on hands and knees, lay her head in your lap. She will not apologize. She will not acknowledge the outburst at all. And you will forgive her, threading your fingers through her hair, taking all of her unvoiced guilt and shame in your hands and swallowing it. And she will be beautiful.

[haunted-xander]

You ever think about how Ryne probably got a more honest yet closed-off Thancred while Minfilia got a more disingenuine yet open Thancred?

Like, the Thancred Minfilia knew and grew up with was the one we saw in arr, the flirty, teasing and sassy but friendly man who was clearly not very honest seeing as no one- not even Minfilia- noticed how worn out he was from his constant work. Even just by hw he's noticably more prickly and. not quite rude but. more outwardly cynical? He's always been kinda cynical, but in arr his teasing and banter hides it well, which never disappears but is more. natural? genuine? now. Krile directly points out that he's much more brusque than she expected of him based on how Minfilia described him.

And sure, you could attribute that behaviour to his grief and stress (which is certainly a part of it) but considering he acts much the same in ew, when he's finally moved on and come to terms with everything (and is also post-shb character development), I think it's safe to say that this is the most honest we've seen Thancred be.

But this is all Ryne has known him to be. She's never seen Thancred be flirtatious or as social and friendly as he is in arr, she's only seen him be brusque and cynical but still teasing and kind. But he's also far more closed off from her (and others) bc of That Whole Deal going on. Urianger has told her more about Thancred's true feelings than Thancred himself has. and even that's not a lot, for Urianger is not only not a mind reader and doesn't know everything that goes on on Thancred's head, but also is reluctant to share more than is necessary since it's not his place to divulge these things (and also he himself is not free from the folly of emotional self-isolation).

With Minfilia though, he's open enough that she's never doubted that he cared for and loved her even when he couldn't spend much time with her, and she felt comfortable enough to admonish him when he did his usual self-destructive behaviour (you know, becoming an alchoholic at 17 and All That Entails)

Just. food for thought

[adahlenan]

I'm gonna be evergreen.

[magellanica]

Estinien:)

[nijohirjesyho]

Nijoh'ir was adopted after his parents were killed because a passing Keeper teenager happened upon him. He brought the child back to his moms, one of whom had recently given birth and could nurse Nijoh'ir. Nijoh'a decided to go to Gridania, join the Adders, and advocate for the rights of Miqo'te to try and prevent what happened to his new baby brother from happening again.

Nijoh'ir's older siblings say he's a lot like Nijoh'a. A strong sense of right and wrong, both unwilling to stand by when they could help. A love for archery and song, with well regarded singing voices. Most people who knew Nijoh'a see him in Nijoh'ir, the same passion and willingness to fight for other's and an intolerance for justice.

Nijoh'ir would never know himself. Nijoh'a died at Carteneau before Nijoh'ir left home, preventing him from ever knowing the older brother who'd saved his life.

The Rising is his chance to feel close to that brother, and wonder what kind of hero he might've become if he'd gotten know Nijoh'a.

[withheartsaligned]

a homecoming, of sorts.

[swiftcast-selene]

Day 13: Color

"for someone who likes to blend in, you sure are wearing a lot of colours." "ah, but i didn't tell you what i'm blending in with!"

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 19: weal

Today was her nameday. She’d just woken up, and she was dreading it already. The summer solstice was a feast in honor of Azim, and amidst all the roasting of dzo and chugging of kumiss, not too many people had ever bothered to remember it was also one girl’s nameday. Her parents had always set aside the choicest bits of lamb for her, but if anyone else noticed it was only to paint her face with gold paint and parade her between two bonfires, crying to the Dawn Father that one of His acolytes had come. It had rather put a dent in her desires for feasting and dancing.

When she’d washed up in Eorzea, at first she’d resigned herself to being the only person who even knew she was a year older. Except then Rita had asked, and she’d answered, and on the next solstice—and the next, and the next—there had been a little round chocolate cake all for her, with candles on top shaped like the numbers of her new age.

(It hadn’t been the only reason she’d stayed with the Scions, but it certainly hadn’t hurt. The Steppes had never heard of chocolate.)

But she’d been in Garlemald for a year now, and there were no little chocolate cakes. What there were instead, still, were her fellow Xaela, and after the winter solstice bonfires word had gotten out that she was Dawn-touched. A quiet day was definitely out of the question, she thought sourly as she finished applying her face paint.

Someone was knocking on the door of the yurt. While Theo barked frantically as though they’d somehow missed it, Alan got up to open it.

“We need to borrow Gan—”

“No, you do not,” Alan snapped, and slammed the door in the Mol woman’s face.

Gan almost blinked, but that would have messed up the lines. “Not that I’m not thankful, but...” What was that about?

Alan flashed her one of those soft smiles over his shoulder, the one that said without words, I love you, and I’m so glad you’re here. “It’s your nameday. You deserve to be left alone.” He paused, looking oddly guilty, and then added, “I...made sure you’d have time off, too.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Not all alone,” she shot back, just in case her man got any ideas about blending into the wallpaper. Today of all days! “You’re here, aren’t you? And...” She swept her gaze up his body, taking in his fine fur-trimmed coat and snug trousers, and then back down just to linger on those shoulders again. And those thighs. She was a weak mortal woman and it was her nameday, sue her. “Seems you’ve got plans.”

He was blushing. They’d been together for years and he still went red when she looked at him like that, it was adorable. “...Aye,” he muttered. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I thought it would be nice to just...take Theo for a walk. No expectations that we’ll bring back game, no formal patrolling. Just us. Does that sound good? I—I mean, if it doesn’t, we can just—stay in. Do whatever you want.” He was bright red by the time he finished speaking.

“That sounds amazing.” It really did. Once, the merest flake of snow had sent her into shaking fits. But Garlemald had forced her to confront her old, vicious memories, and now...well, she’d never like snow or the cold, but it was incredible how much Alan’s presence warmed her up. Besides, summer in the Magna Glacies was almost bearable if you didn’t mind mud. “Lemme get my coat...”

As she started assembling her various layers, Alan added, “But we have to be back by sundown.”

So there was a time limit. Interesting. Her tail flicked thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Breakfast was tea, piping hot pancakes—with chocolate syrup, and when had they gotten that in?—and well-wishes from her fellow craftsmen. Theo bounded around their feet and then ahead of them as soon as they set out on their leisurely stroll around the perimeter, but she didn’t play tag with him like she normally did. That would’ve deprived her of Alan’s hand at the small of her back, Alan’s quiet laughter against her horn. And if she stopped, overflowing with love, to kiss him breathless behind a tree—well, she didn’t have anywhere else to be.

They made their way back to Laterum eventually, footsore but smiling, and then Alan announced he had another present for her—he’d arranged for private use of one of the baths for two hours, just for them. “So I can take care of your scales for you,” he murmured, but there was a flush to his face and a heat in his voice that let her know her scales were definitely not the only thing he was hoping to take care of.

Gods, she loved this man. Grinning, she breathed, “Lead th’ way.”

He did. And he was very, very thorough.

It was sundown by the time they finished. Alan hurried her past the commissary, which was odd. There was light shining under the door of their yurt, which was odder still. She was aware of quiet voices within.

More importantly, Alan was saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but...” as he opened the door.

“Surprise!”

As far as she knew, Rita was in Thavnair and Hoary Boulder was in Gridania—and yet here they were, grinning at her. They’d been joined not only by most of their other coworkers but Hoelun and Evrard as well. Avery and Thancred had even forgone their usual brooding in corners, though that might’ve just been because yurts didn’t actually have any. Portia was beaming as she joked, “I’d imagine you’re probably bloody sick of seein’ half our faces, but you couldn’t think we’d miss out on your nameday! And the cake!”

“There’s cake?!” she blurted out. And then, “’Scuse me, that’s mine—”

“Not this one,” Rita informed her. She was clearly trying for ruthless, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Your Alan had it special ordered from the Bismarck. It’s a mocha ice cream cake with chocolate ganache frosting and serves about a dozen people. Even you couldn’t eat th’ whole thing by yourself!”

All of a sudden, some of the overheard conversations—alright, overheard threats—Alan had been hissing into his linkpearl made sense. She felt a grin split her face. “Aww, honey...”

He turned lightly pink. “You deserve it.”

She did.

Maybe this nameday would be worth celebrating after all.

[fooltofancy]

sometimes you're just vibing in a little brainstorming space and it feels good it feels right but then right as you're getting to the crux of the thing u realize you have just written an extended version of the "aren't you tired of being nice don't you just wanna go apeshit" meme.

[scioneeris]

[eorzeanflowers]

"Well, Yasha, you asked me out here... Is something the matter?" Yda asked the serious gladiator turned Scion following her to a bridge near the Sylphlands.

"I.. um.." Yasha fidgeted with her hands a moment. "I thought we worked well together... again." She rubbed the back of her head with a self conscious grin.

"We did, didn't we." Yda grinned. She took a couple of cheerful steps towards Yasha, an arm behind her back. "But that's something you could've said back in camp, isn't it?" There was mirth and a flirty tone to her voice. "But instead you asked me to come to this beautiful waterfall."

"I think you're beautiful!" Yasha blurted out nearly immediately after Yda's words. She immediately went red and covered her face.

Yda stepped close to Yasha, taking one of her hands and bringing it to her face. "I think you are quite beautiful too, Yasha." She nuzzled Yasha's hand, dropping her own to her side.

Yasha, a little dumbfounded smiled a goofy grin. She hummed a cheery little ditty before putting her forehead to Yda's aethermeter with a soft thunk. She pulled back with an embarrassed giggle, which Yda joined in with.

Yasha looked at Yda with dreamy look in her eyes, quietly asking, "May I give you a kiss, Yda?"

"Mmm, yes, I think you may." Yda gave a soft giggle and leaned in close.

Yasha leaned in close as well, and gave Yda a soft kiss. One that missed its mark on Yda's waiting lips and instead was clumsily on her cheek. Realizing her error, Yasha reeled back.

"I'msosorryYdaI'vegottago!" Yasha bolted back towards the Gridanian territory, leaving a confused Yda behind.

"Yasha! Wait!" Yda reached out towards the departing Scion, but with Yasha's embarrassed speed, Yasha quickly vanished into the undergrowth. Yda blinked under her mask a couple of times, before sighing.

"Oh my, I think I'm falling..." Yda muttered as she gently touched her kissed cheek.

Bonus:

A day later, back at the Waking Sands.

Yasha was a blushing mess as she recounted her mishap with Yda in the Black Shroud

"So, let me get this straight. You asked Yda to a private place, attempted to court her, KISSED her, and then ran away at the first sign of something good happening to both of you?" Jana directly and bluntly laid out the bare bones of Yasha's story.

"It was quite silly of you Yasha, I do agree with Jana's reasonings. But I'm sure Yda thought you were still quite cute." Eulanne tried to console the mess that was Yasha.

Jana slammed her hands on the table, roaring, "It's not very the worst that you did that night! You had a chance to actually see under Yda's mask and you messed up your opportunity! I am so disappointed in you Yasha!"

"Now, now, Jana. Yasha is still a fledgling. And frankly, the fact that you haven't seen Yda's lovely eyes is a problem of your own." A'tyla finally butted in with a laugh, turning Jana's attention towards her instead of Yasha.

"Wait, what? You've seen Yda's eyes!" Jana incredulously turned to A'tyla.

"Yes."

"Do tell!" Jana scooted her chair over to A'tyla with rapt attention.

"A lady never gives out her secrets." A'tyla taps the side of her nose with a wink.

"WHY YOU MAGE!" Jana flared up again, reaching for her staff.

All while that was happening Eulanne had scooted over to Yasha and patted her on the shoulder. "You'll likely get a second chance hotshot, just close your eyes after you make contact with her lips."

Yasha just sank even deeper into her chair as she turned an even darker shade of red.

[acasternaut]

looking at the lyrics to 50 ways to die by train and im realizing i dont actually know the words to this song and just kind of had an audio blurb where the lyrics should be in my head.

just a couple lines in which my brain recognized about 10% of what was being sang

[warlordfelwinter]

you know thinking about the fact that there's like radios and microphones and stuff canonically in ffxiv leads me to the thought that fiver actually has a perfect job if he ever retires from heroing which is to go full bard and start releasing albums. who isn't going to buy the warrior of light's cd. who isn't going to excitedly tune in if moon rabbit radio says they've got him performing live in studio. he'll be set for life.