#seventh umbral calamity

[cryoriku]

loveless, act iv

Ao3 link: [x] Word Count: 2,349

Relationship: WoL & Haurchefant

Tags: warrior of light is an OSDD system, set Pre-ARR (during Calamity), Grief, Angst with a Happy Ending, referenced child abuse and grooming, brothers beating eachother up with household items. like brothers do, Friendship

For the first time since they were a toddler, Arkao's parents seemed almost happy with him. While his alter Isa thrived in their social obligations, he was excelling in school, and the possibility that they might marry the favored son of the highest High House was increasing with each passing day.

This hope is lost when the Steel Vigil falls and Chlodebaimt is confirmed to be among the dead.

Whether Arkao liked it or not, Chlodebaimt was all they had. And now they must face their loss while holding fast to Haurchefant, another relationship slipping fast from their fingertips.

Isa, fifteen, a child overgrown, wraps around her mother in her mahogany rocking chair. Her legs dangle awkwardly over the solid, velvet-lined armrest, and the bones of Ameé's lap press uncomfortably into her haunches as she lays upon her, wetting her mother's shoulder with tears.

The news came three days ago of the Steel Vigil's fall. Everyone in Ishgard waited with bated breath for the confirmation of what they already knew. And this morning, Chlodebaimt de Haillenarte was confirmed to be among the dead.

It had taken until the night for the fact to sink into Arkao and Isa's shared, dazed mind.

Ameé had crept into their bedchamber to bid them goodnight and found Isa sobbing. She offered her nymeia tea and they drank it together wordlessly before Isa set down her drink on the low table and came over to curl up in her mother’s lap for comfort. Ameé received her with open arms.

"I know, darling, I know," she croons as they rock. Then, after a pregnant pause, "I'll tell you something I've never told you before. You were not my first angel."

Isa, too numb, cannot navigate her brain around this. She does not respond.

"Before you, I bore three children. A girl. A set of twin boys. None lasted beyond my womb. I understand well that to lose one you love is the hardest trial Halone has to give."

As her mother's fingers trailed through her long, white hair, Isa sniffs and exhales a ragged breath. "I'm sorry, mama."

"But she also gave me you. One day, you will find love and joy again. And just like your mother, you'll hold on tight to it and never let it go!" The arms around Isa squeeze tight and give her a little jostle, as Ameé laughs a warm laugh. Then her mother places a kiss on her forehead. "'Twill not be without struggle or peril. This life never is. But I will always be here to support you, Arkao. You'll always be mama’s baby."

Isa smiles smally.

————

The wind hisses as it blows ice through the towering arches lifting the city of Ishgard into the sky.

After much fumbling around, Arkao's foot finds purchase on the corner of a stone along the walls of House Fortemps. Cautiously he steps off the porch railing. Admittedly, Arkao never was an athlete, his hands are soft. But he is limber and determined enough to claw his way to the balconet encasing Haurchefant's window.

Arkao is lucky; for not a moment after knocking, the curtains are thrown open and the man himself faces him. The look on his face is one of surprise, confusion; for all the times Arkao has found him at his window, he has never seen Arkao at his. When Haurchefant flips the latch and lifts the window, Arkao says to him: "Let's go birding."

In the weeks following the fall of Steel Vigil, part of Arkao has been awash with relief, and he feels ashamed for it. He never truly enjoyed the relationship with Chlodebaimt. He felt pressured into it by his parents and Isa—whom he has only recently begun to recognize as one other than himself, though he did not understand it. He hated when Isa spent time with him. He hated his domineering presence and his politics, and Arkao was insecure of their immaturity next to Chlodebaimt, whose age exceeded his own by eight summers.

People, relationships, moments—they all come and go. Neither Arkao nor Isa are strangers to this. After all, Chlodebaimt was not even the first to take them. But all before him were nameless flings of fancy or some enabled lord's drunken conquest. Chlodebaimt was the only one who ever held promise to Isa, the only one who seemed to truly love her. And he did love her. Isa knows it.

But whether Arkao likes it or not, Chlodebaimt is—was—all that they had. It has become too strange to talk to Francel these days, and Chlodebaimt didn't much care for Haurchefant, who was growing busy with knighthood, anyway—yet another relationship slipping from his fingertips. And Arkao was not willing to let go.

"How have you been keeping, friend?" Haurchefant asks into the silence, once they are on the edge of the city. "It has been a while. Between my training and you…" he trails off. They both know what he means.

"I've been okay. Busy with school.”

There was a period of time, following the Calamity, that schooling had paused to address more pressing matters. Students were due to return a week and a half ago, and of those days Arkao has shown only twice—skipping to read in a corner of the library or wherever else he might find privacy whilst his parents believed him to be in class. The guilt of disobedience ate at both Arkao and Isa, but he couldn’t help himself. Schoolwork has started to pile and he knew, in time, that these secrets would catch up to them, too.

He continues, “How has… your training been?" Halone above, his voice sounds too flat. Awkward. For once upon a time, he would have known without asking.

Haurchefant huffs something between a laugh and a sigh. "Hither and thither. I have an underling, now. Many folk previously unaffiliated with the knights have taken up arms in a passion to avenge loved ones in the wake of the vigil's fall. Meanwhile a fair number of green knights have defected, I fear…"

"I don't suppose you're stirred, though," says Arkao. "You've always had a heart to protect others."

"Arkao, my friend, have I done aught to offend you?"

Arkao's lips part. Foolish though it was to think he might avoid the inevitable, or at least bear some measure of agency over it, he did not expect Haurchefant to confront him. Certainly not like this.

Guilt wells up within his body at his words. Haurchefant has never done anything wrong, ever in his life, besides the grave misfortune of having been born a bastard. "No. It is me who has offended you. And Francel. And everyone I love."

There you go. If you can't have control, take it. Arkao digs his nails deeply into the leather of his chocobo's reins to detach from the voice in his head.

And indeed, it is true. Haurchefant's head turns to him. Arkao keeps his gaze forward, focused on the path ahead where the snow gradually swallows the cobblestone before it gives way fully to the gray, muddy, ugly dirt road. "Francel worries often about you. As do I. You know, it has been moons since you and I last spoke."

Leaning lower unto his chocobo, Arkao mutters, "Chlodebaimt never told me."

"Well, Chlodebaimt never spoke about you to us, either."

Arkao—Isa rather, tears back the reins and forces their chocobo to a halt. As their chocobo squabbles and hackles her feathers in protest, Haurchefant must pull his bird around to get back to where they have stopped.

"How could you say that?" Isa's voice is shaken with emotion. A flare ignites within their body, swelling and swelling. "That cannot be true. You haven't the slightest idea what we had. Of course he would have spoken of me."

"I did not mean to—"

"He loved me!" It bursts out before Arkao could stop it. The two alters grapple to continue speaking together. "He told me that he loved me. He was the only one that loved me and now he is gone. I can never face anyone again!"

Their ribs inflate and deflate with heavy, shaking breaths. For a long stretch of time it appears Haurchefant is at a loss. He makes to speak before stopping, the cogs in his brain clearly working out several conflictions.

Haurchefant draws his chocobo in closer. Close enough to say softly to him, "You did not lose my friendship. Even in this."

Neither Arkao nor Isa can fashion an answer. Sobbing grossly. Elidhu shuffles uneasily in place underneath Arkao and Isa. The huffing and metallic clinking involved are the only noise heard in the silence between their sobs.

Arkao sniffs, "I missed you… the whole time."

Haurchefant drops his reins. He reaches out across the gap that spans between both of their birds and they meet him in the middle. They can not truly embrace, yet still Haurchefant's hands hold firm to their shoulder blades. They close their eyes.

————

It is not possible for Arkao and Isa to stay out long without arising concern and possible anger from their parents. Sitting on Haurchefant's bed, staring emptily into the space between his wardrobe and the door where his riding gear lies in a clump of leather, they reason to make the excuse that they were at the cathedral. Isa agrees only under the condition that they actually visit and do a confessional in the morning. This is easy enough. But Arkao wishes she would just go away and stop fronting for now altogether.

It is unlike him. A lot about him tonight is. Maybe he has just finally snapped, or maybe, he isn't himself at all. Nothing feels quite right, but at least the air is warm.

Arkao confessed everything on the ride home. Everything. About Chlodebaimt, his parents, Isa. Though he had never before heard the extent of it, Haurchefant has long since caught on to Sir and Lady Castillon's treatment of their son, being so close to him and having endured foul treatment of his own. He had already known about another alter, Gils, so to learn of Isa, Haurchefant was beyond understanding. He believed in Arkao that what he said was true. Thank Halone. The discussion of Chlodebaimt, however… Haurchefant's face had shown a struggle restrained.

"You can say it," they said finally. After all that was shared on their behalf, they couldn't take his withholding for even a portion of it. "I know what you must be thinking. Have been, all these years…"

Haurchefant kept his eyes forth. Vigilant as he always was on rides, tracking for any beasts or approaching riders in the distance, the moonlight catching on the sharp edge of his cheekbone and the curve of his nose. It took a moment for him to speak.

"Tell Isa that her heart is admirable. People like her—as yourself—are the reason for which I fight for the betterment of Ishgard."

Arkao was stunned silent after that. Not that Haurchefant would ever lecture him, but he half expected one. For all that he and Isa had done with an adult as yet a child themself. Isa, too, could fathom no feeling of hers into sentences to say. But a few yalms on, Arkao finally mustered, "I will tell her."

Now, Haurchefant is returning to the room with two mugs of hot cider. Neither are frequent drinkers, mind, but they decide if any night called for it, it would be this one. They are determined to loosen up and share camaraderie long overdue.

And not only has he brought the drinks, but he has brought a guest.

To Arkao and Isa, Haurchefant shrugs with a helpless smile on his face. "He caught me on my way to the kitchens."

Emmanellain says to them, "Couldn't sleep! I've been freezing my arse off in this Fury-damned weather these days." His pitiful expression shifts to a grin on his face, raising the mug in his hand. "Well, not any longer."

He crosses the room, and as he sits down on the bed beside Arkao (and the steadily fading Isa), his hand squeezes their shoulder. They get the feeling that Haurchefant may have explained a thing or two, but it hardly matters. Now is a normal night, of brothers getting sottish and enjoying themselves. Haurchefant closes the door, passes Arkao his mug, sits back in a chair, and they get to drinking.

The trio chit chat about recent goings-on; Haurchefant hasn't much more to say about his knight training, having discussed it earlier, but Emmanellain has much to say about the family's courier.

"Manservant, now, dear brother," Emmanellain corrects Haurchefant upon referring to him as such.

Haurchefant waves. "Right! Indeed, it wouldn't do to discredit the boy."

They speak of Honoroit, a young Brume orphan whom Emmanellain took in approximately three years prior. Emmanellain has apparently started instructing him since Arkao last spent time with the Fortemps family, and the boy has been getting along remarkably well. "He can even read some words better than me," sulks Emmanellain.

Arkao grins. It is unlike him to tease, but he supposes, with the warmth of alcohol in his belly, he is simply feeling emboldened. He says to Haurchefant, "I wonder how long before he begins to call Emmanellain ‘papa’?"

Emmanellain scoffs and waves his free hand dismissively. "Please, Honoroit is merely a dear friend to me! Though, I would love to have kids someday. Perhaps with a fair beauty like Marielle…"

Haurchefant sets his second emptied mug onto a side table. Then, tucking a leg underneath himself and leaning back, he says, "It would be nice to raise your own, wouldn't it? To see yourself and their mother in them, to instruct them in chocobo-back riding on their first hunt, to smother them embarrassingly in front of their peers...”

“Now, don’t tell me you would be that sort of parent!”

“And you would not be?” Haurchefant laughs at his brother.

“He would,” Arkao agrees. “Listen to how he already speaks of his manservant.”

Emmanellain sputters, tipsy and outnumbered. “Is it so bad to display affection—in a sincere way? I would be overcome daily with pride were I to have children, as that would not only mean that a truly ravishing maiden had allowed me to… ouch! You swiving…”

Arkao bursts out in laughter as Emmanellain picks up the candlestick he had been thwarted with and begins to assault Haurchefant with it. Arkao’s consciousness fades in and out from here; but he will remember the sight of watching his two pseudo brothers rough-housing on Haurchefant’s bedroom floor, laughing until his stomach ached, warm and happy.

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Send-a-heart? How about three? 💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss, 🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone, 🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

Some bots are menaces. 3 short scenes, what finally came to mind, not maybe what's expected in all cases:

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

The Imperial soldiers were close, having taken note of movement in the alley.

“Swiving—Can you follow my lead?” Iyna asked quietly.

Valdeaulin frowned. “I think so—”

“Then push me against the wall—quick!” she maneuvered herself into position.

He hesitated only briefly, dropping his staff to the ground before doing as she asked, standing close, hands on her shoulders. As the first soldiers came around the corner and shone their light down the alley, she almost startled him by laughing.

“Darling! We’re going to be seen like this!”

“Who’s there?” A soldier demanded.

Iyna pretended to let out a giggly little shriek of surprise. “Looks like you were right, dear,” Valdeaulin said a little too loudly, trying to affect a slightly-drunken stagger while pawing at his partner. He blinked at the Garleans. “Oy, we’re havin’ a moment, here!”

“Ugh, bloody savages,” the soldier grumbled. “Get back to your homes, citizens.” 

“Unless you’re willing to share,” his partner said just loud enough for them to hear as they began to stagger together down the alley, Iyna “accidentally” kicking the “stick” on the ground ahead of them, the Garlean’s light having already turned away.

“Really?” the first soldier said as they moved on.

They sighed in relief. “That was a little too close,” Valdeaulin muttered. “We need to get back to Severa and the others.”

—-

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

“And now, by the grace of Halone, and in the Light of the Crystal’s Blessing, I pronounce you husband and wife!” Comfraire decreed, smiling.

Emelia laughed as Corran dipped her into a passionate kiss, the few gathered friends cheering and laughing with them, colorful spring flower petals falling around them in the soft, warm winds of Coerthas.

—

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

“Go go go!” Howling Rain shouted as the debris from the moon exploded onto the battleground. He tracked Dark Autumn, her long-legged stride taking her from the field; fast enough? Twelve, he hoped so; he had sworn to his cousin he’d watch out for her girl. This was the best he could do now.

He lost sight of Dark, which meant she had no sight on him, and he finally allowed himself to slump and then fall, the wound on his side from that imperial halberd bleeding heavily.

“Howl!” Dancing Lily crawled toward him, one of her legs mangled by magitek. He reached out, hauling her closer as soon as he could grab her armor.

There was an odd second of silence as Dalamud pulsed, fire running up the artificial slides to let loose whatever was inside.

Dance tried to staunch the bleeding on his side, weeping.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said lightly. He tucked his hand under her chin, making her look up. His own face was wet, thinking absurdly how she would never dance again, even if they had the Spinner’s luck in getting out of this hell. “I love you, Dance.”

Sound returned, drowning out her response, but he didn’t need to hear it when he saw the shape of the words in her mouth. He leaned in to kiss her one last time as the moon exploded and fire rained down.

[crimsonmillenis]

Please check your kids' candy this Halloween. I just found the Seventh Umbral Calamity in a Snickers.

[nhaneh]

H'anha Mar came into the world in a remote H tribe village under H'mar Nunh. Nursed by an aunt after her mother died giving birth, the small and scrawny H'anha quickly proved herself both resilient and full of life, despite fears that she might grow up a frail and sickly child - if she even survived at all.

This tendency to be something of a paradox would continue throughout her childhood as she showed to be both a prodigal huntress, yet also a dreamer with her head in the clouds, a stubborn and determined survivor with a lacking sense for resource scarcity or the potential risk posed by strangers - at once both kind and affable with a strong desire to help others, while also withdrawn and distant, preferring to keep her own counsel to that of others.

Being somehow simultaneously both the Nunh's favourite daughter yet seemingly also his greatest disappointment, she would struggle to feel truly at home amongst her village and tribe, more so as she steadily came of age, drawing both frustration and envy from many of her older kin as both her potential as a combatant and huntress, as well as her urge to wander, explore, and aid anyone in need became ever more pronounced.

At some point past her sixteenth summer, she would set out on her own one final time, packing a small measure of personal supplies that no one would miss, never to return.

Several moons later, an unknown seeker miqo'te of short stature would arrive in Gridania by carriage, wander up to the Adventurer's Guild and register under the name of Kea Lurvis. Mother Miounne knew enough of Seeker culture to conclude it likely an assumed name, but paid it little heed beyond an aside remark - and Kea would go on to quickly making her name rather known through a notably meteoric rise as an Adventurer.

[voidsentprinces]

Trying to recreate the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. But I cannot remember if Miqo’te have an elderly model. Like...all the older miqo’te seem to only have like white hair and thats it. Do we even have an old lady catte in this game?

[joiedecombat]

Where were Raine and X’khal when the Seventh Umbral Calamity happened? Did they lose anyone and/or have specific fears born from it?

This one is easy, though unfortunately as answers go it's a little boring.

Raine was safe in Radz-at-Han, and still in something like her mid-teens. It was a frightening time - I imagine most people can't see a moon fall out of the sky and be unmoved by the experience - but they were much less impacted by it than Eorzea and the satrap managed to keep things reasonably calm.

So the Calamity didn't have a life-altering impact on Raine the way it would have if she'd grown up in or nearer to Eorzea. She had intermittent nightmares about Dalamud falling, but got over them in time.

X'khal was in Gyr Abania, a soldier with a resistance camp and also in his teens. He and everyone around him was very much on edge throughout the experience, and they had a rougher time of it than Thavnair did, but still not as bad as people in lands closer to ground zero of Dalamud's impact and Bahamut's rampage.

The Bozja Incident which preceded the Calamity affected X'khal more personally, since that was when he was orphaned. He doesn't really have a lot of clear memories of that, though, since he was quite young and it was pretty traumatic - the experience has a lot to do with his unwillingness to get attached to people.

[lumen-tellus]

the developers sure knew that what any reasonable person really likes abt the game is the story and the characters and thats its only redeeming point (besides general fun gameplay) so they gated the good stuff behind its god awful gear strength calculations to force us to engage with them in order to get to the actually good stuff

[exhumedicarus]

rip to the random viera who had the misfortune of dying in the seventh umbral calamity and immediately having their body hijacked and appearance altered by a barely conscious melpomene

[celestefox13]

So..... can we talk about how Sphene is a foil to Shadowbringers G'raha?

Like, under slightly different circumstances, or if he started to doubt his plan having a chance at success, he could've distressingly easily become like Sphene.

He admits to how he tried everything he could think of to save the WoL on the gondola ride. And the unspoken part, that perhaps even he doesn't consciously realize or want to acknowledge, is that he did everything he could think of without violating his morals. He held onto lines he wouldn't cross.

But what if he hadn't? What if his poor heart finally broke and he decided the means were justified if it meant saving the one person he wanted to save?

Or what if Emet got to him and figured him out sooner and managed to get the idea in his head that an umbral calamity would be a small price to pay if it meant saving the WoL?

The scale is arguably smaller, and much more intimate and close to the heart, than Sphene, but the steps to lead to that alternate timeline where our precious G'raha Tia burns the world and beyond if it means saving us was probably a lot closer than we ever dare consider.

The fact that he managed to endure and save everything that he did while going through all of the research about what leads up to the WoL's death in the world he woke up to, and didn't lose his morals in the pursuit of saving the WoL is an impressive display of mental and emotional fortitude.

But his poor heart. All those years of stress and frustration whenever a wall was hit, or an idea didn't work out when applied even in theory.

Their desperation levels even reach similar points. Because on every try to pull the WoL to the First, there IS desperation in his voice, increasingly so with each attempt. The try that finally works, he rushes to where they land because he has to be sure. He has to see with his own eyes to confirm that this plan that he finally landed on after YEARS of hard work and research is at least working on step 1. That he's finally gained a foothold on his goal.

And what a blessing that that plan didn't end up like Sphene's. That he never hit a point where the thought of "by any means necessary" truly meant by ANY means necessary. But now I wonder and worry about how close he may have been to that edge.

"This tragedy, even greater than the Seventh Umbral Calamity, must be undone. If history must be unwritten, let it be unwritten." - G'raha Tia about his goal to save the WoL

"For them I will do anything. If bloodshed will save my subjects, I will become history's most brutal Queen." - Sphene about her goal to save the Endless

[wlwaerith]

FINAL FANTASY XIV + SCENERY | EASTERN THANALAN.

eastern thanalan borders the black shroud, and is divided north from south by the yug'ram river. from the many dead buried in the church of saint adama landama to the towering formations of corrupted crystal, one is ever reminded of the seventh umbral calamity's devastation in this region.

[wildstar25]

Any ffxiv 1.0 knowledge havers:

Were the ruins of Nym found across La Noscea something that existed on the map back then or were the remnants that we see today something that was uncovered due to the seventh umbral calamity?

[aislingsurrow]

So I got tagged by @archaiclumina AND @ubejamjar AND @sparrowsong-7 to do this like (checks wrist) two months ago and I finally!!! Got it done!! So please enjoy, Aisling Facts!

Since this is also so late I'm not sure who was tagged and who wasn't... I'm gonna make ONE guess! @mist-touched, if you didn't get tagged before, get tagged now!

And if you're reading and haven't been tagged yet, now you are.

Basics

Name: Aisling Surrow

Nicknames: Often called ���Lyn”, “Aisie”, or “little dream” by her father. Her mother will go on and on with such things as “sweet (including both ‘y’ and ‘ie’ and ‘pie’ variations), darling, sugar (and other saccharine additives), pet, dumpling (and a shelf of other baked goods), poppet, pumpkin (and a variety other vegetables), doll, baby, my girl” among others!

The core members of the Scions will casually call her “Ais” (pronounced like “Ash”), and in greeting some of the more military-mind may shout, “Hey, A!” to get her attention. 

After seeing her once again in Il Mehg, Urianger said she was “a vision”, “his vision” in fact��  And found himself unable to stop…

When Estinien first called her “my esk” or “my escape”, it was ironic- a way to mock what Nidhogg thought and said of her. It stopped being ironic rather quickly.

Age: 26 (ARR) 29-30 (Endwalker)

Nameday: The same day as the Seventh Umbral Calamity (And so the date is a little…  fuzzy meta-wise…)

Race: Half Lalafell, Half Hyur

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual, with a preference for tall.

Profession: When not the Warrior of Light, Aisling is trained in the skills of an innkeeper, and is more than capable of manning the shop for as long as she needs. These skills in business serve and are supported by the assignments and work she does for the Arcanists’ Guild. 

She contracts with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn as an Adventurer, doing investigations, deliveries, escorts, and other odd jobs on Vylbrand. The Sleepy Surrow Burrow also provides discounts to any Scion who rents a room during their visits…

When the Warrior of Light- well, she does all that and saves the world!

Physical Aspects

Hair: Naturally curly and thick like her father. Unlike him, she keeps it long. She uses simple tricks of aether to dye the tips a pink similar to her eyes, and will also ‘change’ the length if she is feeling adventurous. This change is more glamor than anything else and eventually reverts back to her usual hair. 

Eyes: A deep pink, and naturally fluorescent thanks to a natural quirk in her aetheric balance. Her eyes are also sensitive to light. 

After the events of Shadowbringers her eyes will lose color the more heavily an area’s aethetic balance shifts towards Light. When a natural balance is restored, or she leaves the Light infected area, color will return to her eyes. 

Skin: Naturally sort of ruddy, but will eventually tan if in the sun long enough. She has freckles on her face that, like her eyes, glow because of an aethertic quirk. 

Tattoos/Scars: She once had scars on her fingers due to slipped hooks and botched knife cuts, but they were wiped away when she grabbed Nidhogg’s eye as it clung to an infected Estinien. While she was able to pull the eye out, she did so bare-handed, and won burn scars that now cover her palms and fingers. 

A rough, gouged hole around her heart from her first bout with Zenos in Rhalhgar’s Reach. His katana nearly went through her, but a desperate barrier at the last moment protected her from being skewered.

Lines and cracks on the back of her neck that trace down her spine, from when the Light nearly burst from her body after defeating Innocence. When she asked Urianger to describe the scars afterwards, he said they were “akin to the remnants of wounds from those stricken by lightning.”

Family

Parents: Aisling’s mother is Cecelia Surrow, oldest of three, and the inheritor and keeper of the Sleepy Surrow Burrow, a long-running family business in Aleport. When she was still learning the ropes of the trade, the devilishly handsome Edvard Volf caught her eye. It took her many a year to woo him and win him, and even longer to get him to settle down into the life of a sailor and innkeeper, rather than be a pirate. 

Many could describe Cecelia as overwrought, but Aisling calls her mother colorful and full of life. She’s a loquacious, eager, and overly earnest woman always looking for an opportunity to do or experience something interesting. While she’s quick to seek a deal and haggles vociferously, she has a keen sense of fairness that cannot be denied. She, like her daughter, has expensive taste- much to the chagrin of her husband. 

Edvard took his wife’s name when they married because Cecelia had the legacy to steward- he didn’t mind. At the time, he was not someone concerned with planning for the future or what his last name was on some legal ledger. He is an intense and silent man, saying little, and oftentimes what he says sounds more… sinister than he intends. Much of his language is still mired in his old pirate career. It’s not that he has bad intentions- only that the life is hard to leave behind. He deeply loves his family and what they have in Aleport, and in the new lens of domesticity his intensity and silence can come off as dreamy and thoughtful; a nature he shares with his daughter.

Siblings: Aisling is an only child. “Though not for lack of trying!” her mother often bemoaned when Aisling was in her teens. 

Grandparents: Edvard’s parents are not in the picture anymore, a fact he doesn’t often speak about to anyone outside his family. Cecelia’s parents are alive and have retired to Costa Del Sol, living out their twilight years in the sun and surf. 

In-laws and Other: Two uncles and one aunt on her mother’s side- no known aunts or uncles on her father’s side. 

After developing a relationship with Estinien, she can’t help but consider all dragons her family and in-laws, in a sense. She often thinks of Midgardsormer as a grandfather- and will call him so to his face quite boldly. He… doesn’t seem to mind it?

Pets: Her trusty carbuncle, Carby, who began its life as a mote of light she practiced summoning as a child. Since then, she has developed its form and concept, each iteration still her delightful Carby. 

The Sleepy Surrow Burrow has two main mousers (that is, cats that live and work within the inn catching vermin). Arturio is a luxurious ragdoll with one eye; which he lost when he picked a fight with a giant rat on his own. It was after this incident that they adopted their next mouser- a raggedy tabby kitten named Anne. While the start was rough, Anne and Arturio are now thick as thieves… which makes sense, as they love to find ways to steal treats and fresh cream from the larder. 

The Sleepy Surrow Burrow also has a small colony of cats that live around it, taking advantage of the many customers, the many pests, and the too-giving nature of Cecelia and Aisling. They just can’t help leaving out some scraps for the poor, sweet things. There are many cats in the colony, including a cat with one ear named after the Gridanian painter, Vangaux. 

Skills

Abilities: Aisling is a capable sailor, fisher, and navigator- readily able to hop aboard any vessel and serve as a rigger, midshipwoman, or surgeon. She is also a whiz at math- quickly able to make complex calculations and estimates in her head, which serves her well when figuring out headings and trajectories. It also helps in her work as an Arcanist- the balances and formulae necessary for the job are no sweat for her. 

She has also always been talented in minor aetherical manipulation. Briefly changing the color of something, the size or shape- small illusions that return to normal not too long after- summoning motes of spirit and light, little drawings made real. Her sense serves her well in any job that requires she deeply connect to aether, its balance, and cast spells and magic.

Aisling is the frequent haver of visions and dreams, and while she has not considered such a thing a ‘skill’ as much, her visions have come to be things to decipher, things that guide her decision making. Interpreting them is a skill in itself...

Hobbies: When not engaged in the equally important businesses of innkeeping and world saving, Aisling takes joy in a variety of hobbies. These include reading stories and myths (adventure, tragedy, and romance stand amongst her favorites), cooking up new and old dishes, singing and dancing with her mother and father and friends, fishing off Brewer’s Beacon (her favorite spot), playing various games of chance and skill (including poker, tarot, various dice games, blackjack, and Triple Triad), and wandering through Eorzea to find places to be and things to do.

Traits

Most Positive Trait: A deep and abiding curiosity for people and the world. She is always eager to listen and observe, and finds it easy to find a niche and make a home anywhere.

Most Negative Trait: A kind of apathy- because of her dreams and visions, things can feel inevitable to her… and sometimes she can treat them that way, which can bring a lack of empathy. 

Likes

Colors: Purple, pinks, and blues- preferably pastels.

Smells: The salt spray. Fresh canvas sails. Bread proofing and in the oven. Rosemary and myrrh. Lavender and spice.

Textures: Cold, glinting jewels. Smooth, sun-kissed wood. Hempen rope. Clean cotton sheets. Soft grass to lay on.

Drinks: Mango lassi. Mama’s eggnog (with a kick!) Chocolate milk. Spicy Bloody Marys. 

Other Details

Smokes: Sometimes Aisling will share a pipe with her father, though it’s not often. 

Drinks: Aisling isn’t shy around alcohol and is happy to be part of the party- she even has expensive taste when it comes to her wines and brandy…

Drugs: She’s got that Primal dank, man. She’s got that shit that causes Rejoinings. It’ll make you nine thirteenths of a soul, motherfucker. 

Mount Issuance: Aisiling has a proper certification for her Company Chocobo, affectionately named Omelette- as for the rest of the creatures and contraptions she rides… Gods only know how she got THEM…

Been Arrested: If you don’t count her brief imprisonments as part of her Warrior of Light journey, Aisling has never been arrested! Though as a wandering child in Limsa Lominsa, she did often get scolded by Maelstrom soldiers who found her where she shouldn’t be.

[ievaxol]

Portrait of a woman, dated sometime during the 8th Umbral Calamity.

A half-finished charcoal sketch found amid the personal affects of one Alphinaud Leveilleur by looters. Through a series of events it eventually reached the hands of the New Dawn Order; a splinter off of Garlond Ironworks working to carry on the legacy of the late Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

The sketch depicts a Hyur woman suspected to be the Warrior of Light, famously known to travel by Alphinaud's side. The subject is sketched from the bust up, with the right half roughly outlined and the left half presumed complete with shading.

Wild, dark hair is laid down with thick strokes of charcoal; a contrast to the delicate lines Alphinaud chose to capture the facial features. The woman in the sketch is facing the viewer, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. She is depicted in armor typical of the Seventh Astral Era, with bruising across her cheek.

Though most known for his work as a Scion, Alphinaud became appreciated in his later years for his many works depicting Eorzea post the destruction wrought by Black Rose. Although not everything survived, the ones that did gives a valuable insight into the the events taking place after the battle of Ghimlyt Dark.

Among all of Alphinaud's art, Portrait of a woman is perhaps his most beloved, despite being unfinished. It stands out among his body of work because of the eyes; despite being known for his great attention to detail in all other things, the eyes in the sketch are a simple flat and dull black.

Many who visit our collection of Scion artifacts here at the Waking Sands Museum report feeling drawn in by the piercing gaze, unable to shake it even weeks afterward.

[lightparty-fullparty]

Can't possibly be me Zenosposting again - what is this a day ending in Y?

Anyway, I've been thinking about the murder boy again. This has mostly spawned from my replaying of the Stormblood patches and seeing Amnesiac Yotsuyu, which sparked a bit of a Nature vs Nuture debate between me and my friends.

Basically, my question for this post is "How much of Zenos' whole deal is Nature (aka He was just born like that) and how much of it is Nuture (aka the enviornment he grew up). Some of you might content to say Nature and leave it at that, which is a completely valid outlook to have. But for me there's just one... teeny... tiny... little detail that has sent me on a wild consipriacy theory of a ride that's resulted in this post. Emet-FUCKING-Selch.

Listen to me, listen okay? I cannot, CANNOT ignore the fact that this absoulete motherfucker (affectionate) is Zenos's cannonical Great Grandfather. Who was very much alive and kicking during his childhood. Emet-Selch or Solus zos Galvus whatever moniker you wanna give the man, is an Ascian. One of THE Ascians. Not only that, he's 'The Architect" the guy who's job it is to design and engineer the calamities meant to rejoin the Shards of the World back together again. What does he do to achieve this? He builds empires, he starts wars, manipulates people and situations to result in untold elemental chaos. Iirc correctly he's responsible for causing all eight calamities that have occured so far in FFXIV. (Eight got undone but I'm still counting it).

Now for this post I'm going to be focusing mainly on the Seventh, Eighth, and Fourth Umbral Calamities. (Which are the ones coincidentally we're told the most about in game). This Calamities all involved Empires. The Allagan and the Garlean, both of which Emet-Selch was responsible for creating. From the Allagans we have the creation of Dalamud, Cyrus Tower, and the Ultima Weapon. As well as an extensive history of biological research. Cloning, Gene Splicing, Mutation and so on. (A sundered mortal's attempts at creation magjicks perhaps?) The Garleans too, have a notible history of biological research, they draw a lot of their modern technology from Allagan design. No coincidence there given Emet-Selch's involvement. But we've seen them use genetic mutation, cyber augmentation, and cloning (Emet-Selch's shadow the hedgehog ass clone bodies because he refuses to look like anyone other than his unsundered self). The also so a lot of research into the Echo. Hydalyn's mark for her champions, and soul maipulation. (Ala Mihgo Dungeon and In From the Cold Duty both points of note for examples of the Soul being manipulated here - physically torn out of the body).

"Now Gengar " - I hear you ask - "What does this have to do with Nature vs Nuture or Zenos?" Well, I tell you, everything really. Hear me out. Emet-Selch designed the Garlean Empire to be the perfect chaos causing conquest force. They have no ability to use either, making them initially vulnerable as a people to the rest of the races. Building up a tasty, tasty resentment and need to feel superior. He sent them marching to 'reclaim their home' and then to 'unify the three contents under their superior peaceful, organised leadership'. The 'Savage Races' summon evil primals and weild evil distructive magjiks. He gave them a perfect cause and reason to hate everyone else. He gave them magitech to level the field and make them supieror at combat. Garlemald as a nation is the perfect war machine. Allagan 2.0 if you would. And Zenos is the perfect 'Champion' to lead that nation into battle. To spark that next Calamity. Look at the guy. Garleans might be on the taller side (depending on the character. Cid is a shorty), but Varis and Zenos are HUGE. Emet-Selch isn't nearly as tall as either of them despite being a blood relation. Which makes me think there was some of that Allagan/Garlean/Ancient playing with genetics and form at work. Make them bigger, more durable, stronger, more intelligent.

It's like Captian America. You want the perfect solider. And a perfect solider for Emet-Selch would also need to be cold, ruthless, manipulative.

There was a post I saw a while again about Mecha Pilots. And OP pondered on the idea of physcially having your brain and body contiditoned to love battle. To love destruction and killing and fighting.

Do you see where I am going with this?

You want someone bloodthirsty enough to cause a Calamity for you, you need them to feel nothing for their fellow man. (Insects all of them. Disappointing. Found Wanting.) You need them to find such overwhelming joy in battle that no other earthely pleasure can compare to it. (Brilliant. Blinding. Trandsenant Moment.)

No attatchments. No emotions, Just violence. I offer to you dear readers, that Emet-Selch carefully modified Zenos' litterally brain chemistry. Making him predisposed to a lack of empathy and his brain releasing those pesky joyous chemicals during battle. Inflicitng and feeling pain. I offer the theory that Zenos has literally been built for combat. If you cut him open, his bones and muscles and organs would be so alienly perfect. Denser, perfectly optimised. Exceedingly perfect. His brain remapped for pattern recognistion and quick skill building, Easy to train in the art of slaughter and tactics. Unable to forge the emotional connections that would only serve to hinder him. (To isolate him from family).

What evidence to I have? Outside of Emet-Selch's known history of building Empires? Easy. I already know he's done this kind of thing before.

Vauthry. The baby Emet-Selch mutated into half a Lightwarden. Able to command the Sin Eaters and ensured would be raised into a tyranically, childish, king. To keep the First from Uniting. To ensure the Eighth Umbral Calamity would continue along it's march to completion.

Why wouldn't Emet-Selch have done as much to Zenos too?

[guavi]

In The Beginning (Good Omens x FFXIV AU) [1-2/8] [next]

In a land still plagued by the shadows of the Seventh Umbral Calamity, before heroes awakened once more to answer Hydaelyn's call and save the world, two strangers (of sorts) meet in a garden (of sorts).

The original page of scribbles that spawned this AU:

This was supposed to be a one-off thing but I keep coming back to it and. here we are I'm back at it again. The rest will happen when they happen I can make no promises

[voidsentprinces]

Coerthas Western Highlands is such a tragic area. The Central Highlands definitely feel like a triumph of Ishgard. They have a couple crumbling vigils but they are entrenched and mostly untested. The Western Highlands though? It all use to be warm green fields, wind mill farms, and the brightness of the Dusk Vigil along with Ishgard's arm to look over it. But when we arrive after the Seventh Umbral Calamity? Hay stacks frost bitten, wind mills frozen to a stop, a ship wrecked in the middle of a now frozen lake, the Dusk Vigil forced into cannibalism and the hauntings of the Holy See's corruption, and whats more, dragon and elezen corpses line the roads and the cliff sides.