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#that's ardbert while he was alive of course
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Ardbert clearly having the time of his life (in spite of complaining that Thancred is not being very sporting)
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laeorinel · 2 years
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FFXIVWrite2022 - Day 2 - Bolt
Minor Spoilers for Shadowbringers
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One bolt. One stray bolt of that foul light magic. That was all it took to root her in place and bring her to her knees. Pain coursing up and down her body, nerve endings alight. She felt as though she could hardly breathe, each intake a struggle. And then came the whispers. Those maddening whispers had been growing louder and harder to ignore with each Light Warden defeated. 
“Kill…Feed...Change”
She could vaguely hear the sounds of her companions. Was someone yelling at her? Her vision was blurred as she looked around. Were more enemies appearing? Thancred was yelling, rage mixed with a hint of fear, cartridge after cartridge being used, likely doing all he could to draw their enemy’s attention away. 
She could feel the wound to her side slowly begin to close, the pain subsiding, but still, she could not move. Ryne was beside her, doing what she could to help Alphinaud tend to her and get her back on her feet. Both of them looked panicked. She could see that they were talking, but she could not make out the words. 
Y’shtola and Alisaie had firmly planted themselves in front of her as a protective wall. They continued raining down spell after spell with Urianger standing just behind them, trying to keep Thancred alive. Staying completely unharmed at this point was impossible.  
It was chaos. Nothing short of unbridled chaos. And it was only getting worse. She heard more and more cries of Sin-Eaters arriving. They would be overwhelmed soon. The Light inside of her was raging. While she had her doubts before, this near enough confirmed to her that her worst fears were realised. The Sin Eaters were drawn to her, much like any Light Warden.
The death grip she had around her axe loosens. She feels the Will of Karash fading from her body and mind, her inner beast silenced. She had failed. She was supposed to protect her friends and allies. Instead, she had become their greatest threat.
She curled up further into herself, the pleading voices of her friends fading away even as they grew more incessant, her vision fading until she saw nothing but her own body and the Light. She looked down at her scaled hands, black scales the colour of the darkest night peeling and fading, changing to a golden hue. Her pale grey skin somehow turned paler, looking almost like alabaster. 
So this was it. This was how it ended. Vauthry still sat upon his gilded throne, Emet-Selch was still out there doing Gods knows what and her friends…they were still trapped here and would now likely die here. She had accomplished nothing. 
“Never saw you as one who would give into self-pity.” The voice cuts through, the one crystal clear thing she has heard since being struck down. 
Ardbert. Of course, he is here. He kneels beside her looking her over with a frown. 
“You look like a right mess, but your friends need you. So come on. Get up.” 
Her eyes remain fixed on her hands. Her claws are golden now and longer, more akin to small blades of their own. It would be so easy to kill someone with these. She had endured for so long against this...
“Enduring against the Light is easy. It’s what each and every soul of Norvrandt has learned to do. But survival means little if you don’t have the strength of will to bring about change.” That causes her to look up at Ardbert, her now golden eyes staring at him. Had she spoken out loud? Or was the connection they shared enough for him to know her thoughts?
“Your friends don’t need your protection. They need your anger and rage. To be the one carving a path through the chaos. A force of nature that will not be stopped.” 
Ardbert places a crystal in her hands. It takes a moment before she feels the connection. The Gem of Shatotto. She swears she can almost hear the original owner scolding her as the darker magics of the soul stone force back the Light. As the Light fades, she hears the Scions again. Her friends. Her family. 
The Scions were corned now. Stuck in a rocky outcropping as they crowded around Samara and Ryne, doing what they could to keep the Sin-Eaters at bay as the young girl was still desperately trying to keep the Light in check. All of them were injured, and each had that steely look of determination but also resignation that this could well be their final battle. But being stubborn was part of the job description when it came to being a Scion, and none of them would surrender even an ilm.
And nor would she. Not anymore. She focuses on the Stone and Ardbert’s words as he fades into the background. 
“So come on. Get up. And show them-”
The sound of thunder rumbles overhead as the rain clouds gather and the contrasting temperatures of fire and ice swirl around in the air. A wall of fire coalesces around the Scions, incinerating some of the weaker or injured Sin-eaters on the spot and pushing the front line further back. 
Alisaie looks to Y'shtola. “Why did you not do that earlier?!”
Y’shtola does not give a response at first. She simply smiles and glances behind her. “Would that I could claim such magic is mine to control..”
All but Thancred followed her gaze to see Samara, now standing on her own, a look of pure rage and venom on her face as her magics coalesce around her.  
“Show them why you are known as the Fury and the Storm.” 
The moment the rain begins, she unleashes all she has to bear and more against her foes. The Sin-eaters are brought low by lightning, fire and ice until nothing but ash remains.
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spinneryesteryear · 2 years
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FFXIV 5.2 Reactions
Jotted these down when the patch came out, but only just now typing them up to get the notes off my phone, lol.
- Just fiddled with my graphics settings and now the game looks fantastic, especially at night. On the other hand, I have 30 fps now. RIP. Gotta find a way to toggle settings before I enter a raid.
- Really, playing FFXIV is like watching a TV series but new episodes only come out every 3 months.
- Gaius’s new model is so hi-def and realistic it just makes that blue-haired girl next to him look even more baby-faced and anime. Kinda jarring, tbh.
- pls let me recruit Estinien to fight the Weapons, I beg you
- Okay, so talking to Unukalhai right before while I was in the Rising Stones and hearing his warning about auracite leads me to suspect something will happen while transporting the Scions home. (Or it’s a reference to Oversoul with the Weapons. Or it’s just his standard dialogue, idk.)
- G’RAHA I’M MARRIED. Or my character is. In my head. To Sidurgu. NOT YOU.
- *mind drifting to odd details during cutscene* Lyna has fantastic winged eyeliner.
- Okay, wild theory: Zenos has possessed Ardbert’s body and is hunting sin eaters for his newest sport, hoping to lure us out.
- Frickin’ fake Ardbert will pop up during this announcement, I just know it.
- ALPHINAUD, DID YOU JUST SIGN ME UP FOR PUBLIC SPEAKING??!!
- I *knew* it!
- Y’shtola, what does your x-ray vision tell you? And why is Ardbert’s beard missing? Did the Ascian shave his corpse for reasons unknown?
- Okay, so it’s probably not Zenos in Ardbert’s body.
- 2nd wild theory: Elidibus isn’t tempered by Zodiark in the same way as the other AScians. Probably quite contradicted by canon, but I can’t remember all his moon monologues. Still, something seems different about him.
- It’s heartening that Beq Lugg disapproves of the Ascians’ careless appropriation of corpses.
- “It is recommended that you set aside sufficient time to view these scenes in their entirety.” HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS, FOLKS!
- Okay, that statue is terrifying. It represents a sin eater, I assume. Also reminds me of some real-life pagan idols. It’s gonna come to life, isn’t it.
- Ah. Yes. Of course.
- It’s less scary when alive somehow. Save for the unfocused eyes. Like the Ronkans’ answer to Allagan chimerae. Or the sphinx from Greek myths. Yep, it has riddles. It’s gonna try to keep one soul, though, I’m sure.
- FIGHT TIME
- so glad I came on PLD
- I’m sure those cubi had nothing to do with the Amaurotines
- “How polite.” - Y’shtola summing up what I think of every FF boss’s insistence on holding fights in alternate dimensions.
- Ah, Tiuna was a fellow WoL. Let me pay my respects at her grave, dang it!
- Four (properly clothed) Roegadyn all standing here on patch day for the cutscene?! What is this madness?1 Maybe there truly are dozens of us out there...
- Is Y’shtola gonna enchant the broom? Yep. She gets more like her mother every day.
- poor Runar, his waifu running off to save the world again
- ngl, Ardbert’s voice when it’s so not Ardbert is really tripping me out
- The WoL is so angry and betrayed over this misappropriation of Ardbert’s body and I’m so, so glad to see this reaction. Ardbert is our #1 best bro. We will not stand for his memory to be abused like this.
- HOLY CRAP THAT’S TERRIFYING
- Elidibus sounds like a tired old man. A tired, bitter old man. Which he is.
- Doing SHB MSQ as tank allows me to relate to Thancred on another level. THere’s a certain bond between co-tanks who trust each other. We view ourselves as hte only responsible ones (especially since neither Urianger nor Alphinaud are competent enough to achieve Troll Healer status) and there’s this silent understanding behind our actions. I can’t describe it better.
- Urianger’s waterwalking was every bit as dramatic and played out how I anticipated. Thancred’s exasperation was on point. And I suspect their dizziness is due to the fraying soul-body connection.
- Urianger is so desperate to not swim, he makes a deal with the Fuath. THat sounds like a spectacularly bad decision, even for him.
- Now Alisaie is signing me up for chores. Good grief. She’s eager to be on our way.
- “It is a minor miracle that we accomplish anything at all.” You got that right, sister.
- Ryne guilt-tripping her dad and Uncle Orange, lol. Oh, wait, and me, too. Did everyone receive a sass upgrade this patch?
- It is nice to just hang out with the Scions, though. Too bad a FATE had to gatecrash. I knew it’d be those guys Elidibus encouraged, though. Am unsure what game he’s playing by encouraging people to be heroic. So far.
- So is no one in the Crystarium questioning why the Exarch is suddenly going around with his hood down? Or did he do that regularly before the WoL showed up?
- Okay, so can Elidibus just conjure up a vision of the sky falling and awaken the Echo within people like that?
- why did Venat and Elidibus have their top-secret meeting sin the same location? Or store the recordings of their meetings in the same location? Were those even the same locations???
- lol, Elidibus bluntly refuses to reveal his plan
- the bit with not being able to sleep and getting up for a drink really resonates with me
- quick, which do I pick? Granson, my edgy little brother, or Giott, my tiny, badass sister?
- on PLD currently and Granson was in the patch trailer so my edgy wannabe DRK bro it is!
- let me go off to hunt Elidibus down with Granson and Giott pls. PLS. I want them for trust.
- uh-oh, why are we staring at the moon? Are we just giving Elidibus and/or Zodiark the stink-eye, or something more?
- so is G’raha steadily getting more and more crystallized?
- and WHO THE HECK is parading around in Asahi’s body????
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traveler-of-light · 2 years
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If they get married, who proposes?
AWWWWWW LET'S GET CUTE (Might do fics for all of those if you are interested)
Arslan and Aren: Arslan proposed during Endwalker actually. "If I get back alive I'm marrying you" "WHEN you get back you better marry me" The proposal wasn't all that cute but they are ok with it, the ceremony was cute enough (Before you ask yes they got Astrid to be the best man) And everyone was very excited to see them getting married. Urianger was also very insistent that he had to be the one giving the speech, since he spent quite some time making Arslan realize his feelings.
Astrid and Ardbert: In that AU where Ardbert stays alive and gets his body back it's very funny cause.... Astrid's self appointed big brother Thancred is not very happy. But Lyse and Y'shtola make sure he doesn't say a word. The proposal is quite simple, Ardbert knows if he pulls a big stunt she will probably run away, not cause she doesn't want him, but cause she likes her privacy. So he plans a beautiful dinner, and tries to cook it himself... Doesn't go well, the food is burnt and also is Ardbert, that has to explain the whole thing to Astrid. "So your plan to ask me to marry you is to get cooked?" "Please don't roast me anymore" "You could just ask me I will say yes no matter what, with food or without it you dummy"
Astrid and Cid: Tricky.... Cid and Astrid end up together after his fiancee (The gorgeous and lovely Yume, the wol of @earthlystar ) left him for G'raha BEFORE the wedding. It's a touchy subject and Astrid knows it so she has absolutely no problem in letting him go at his pace. But if the conversation ever comes up.... Astrid is going to be the one popping up the question, she knows she wants to be with him, and she knows what lack of communication can do to them (the whole fight was a lesson they never forgot) so she will take care of it in a efficient manner before it gets weird. "Cid my sun would you marry me" *Cid.exe has stopped, please wait while it reboots* "Wha-? Where did this- did Nero say anything, I'm going to-" "Cid please answer the question, would you marry me or not? I know the idea can make you nervous so if your answer is no I just want to know so I know not to make you uncomfortable" "But I would. I very much would like to... I just was thinking how to ask you properly" "You just need to ask me and I'll say yes" Yes Nero said to Astrid it was about time they got married.
Cleo and Hades: Hades proposed of course.... After a rather long conversation with Hyth and Cleo's twin brother Kaos. Hyth is tired of Hades using work as an excuse not to marry her and Kaos is tired of Cleo being very sad cause her lover doesn't seem to be interested on her. It was easier than they expected though. "Azem" "Most eminent Emet Selch, what an honor, I have here the repor-" "Would you please allow me a word in private" "S- Sure" "Cleo I thought about something, and it's something that is important for us" "I understand, your work is more important than us and I wouldn't like to be a distraction for you since the convocatio-" "Woman would you stop this? I'm trying to ask you to marry me not to leave you" "Oh?" "Well?" "Of course"
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ahlis-xiv · 3 years
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Sea’s WoL 30 Day Challenge - Jan 7th: Revenant
Her first ‘night’ sleeping in her room on Norvrandt had little to give in terms of actual rest. Sleep evaded her, and while the bed was comfortable and the accommodations more than adequate there was that ever-present sense of foreboding that added to the tension of being on an entirely different world altogether.
She turned to her other side, away from the heavy curtains that covered the window in the center of her quarters, and her mind wandered helplessly. Earlier on she had a “guest” of sorts appear, one that was utterly unexpected given the circumstances of, well, everything. Their parting had been a tragic, albeit a somewhat hopeful one...and yet in light of it all, she had come to see the aftermath of the ill fated world that had been his home.
Not like she expected any sort of happy or warm welcome, of course. Not like she could show or introduce him to anybody either: he was quite dead. Yet to see him there, very much experiencing the same shock at being perceived at all, almost felt as if he was just as real and present as when they first crossed paths on the Source. Ethereal or not, Ardbert somehow felt very much alive.
Which made the sensation that he could arrive whenever he pleased all the more unsettling. Ahlis pulled her covers further up and over herself, desperate to sleep.
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anchanted-library · 4 years
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FFXIV Write Prompt 07. Nonagenarian
A sullen mood had fallen over the group when Olivier finished his story. Thancred, Y'Shtola, Alphinaud, Urianger, and every one of the present Merry Suns were lost in their thoughts, plagued by their bitter memories of the hours and the days and the months following the Monetarist coup. So much had been lost, so much that could never be recovered again.
But worse was the horrified expression on Minfilia's face. She seemed highly distressed by this last tale. She looked about at each of her guardians, finding them all too distracted. By her expression, she looked like she wanted to comfort them somehow. But words failed her and her eyes grew despondent.
Why had Olivier insisted on telling this story? Why hadn't anyone stopped him.
Disquieted, Erika rose and walked to the fringes of the camp under the pretense of wanting to take a look around.
"I can see that it truly was dark days for you," a voice came from her left. A figure with dark messy hair and black Fighter's armor materialized where empty air had been a moment before. 
"The Crystal Braves were supposed to be a beacon of hope" Erika said softly. She hadn't yet told her friends about her silent companion. "Independence, hope. I know that no organization remains clean forever, yet they were tainted almost from the very start. They betrayed us within a month of their formation. And Ilberd..." She trailed off with a snarl. 
"You looked up to him?"
"He was one of the leaders of the Ala Mhigan resistance. I've told you I was from Ala Mhigo, right? He smashed against Imperial forces time and again... and though his people lost most engagements, they always lost so few soldiers. In return, they always took a hundred Garleans down for every one of them they lost. He and Raubahn, they were like two gods of war on the battlefield. It took the Black Wolf—Gaius Baelsar himself—to finally crush their band. But even then they both escaped. Throughout his years as a sellsword, he always continued to speak for liberty. But even that noble goal was corrupted in the end. And my dearest friends paid dearly because of it."
"Ryosen and Minfilia you mean?"
Erika's head jerked up, and she laughed ruefully. "Them too I suppose. But no, I was speaking of a few of my Merry Suns. They were ambushed while on patrol in the hour before the coup, and interrogated before they were killed."
"Oh." Ardbert looked sad. "How many Merry Suns were there? Were you all such a close bunch?"
"Oh, no! At the height of our numbers there were thirty of us. Around the time we began hunting Primals and fighting the Garleans in earnest. At the start though, there were just six of us."
"You, Desmond, Olivier, and E'Nisse among them?"
"Yes, no, no, no!" Erika laughed. "It was me and five of my childhood friends:Tobase Arabase, Marta Talbot, Willahem Ty, Romat Hamat, and Crimson Whale. Tobase was killed by an Ascian, but the rest of them were killed by Ilberd and his thug Yuyuhase."
"And you knew them from childhood?"
"That's right!" Erika sighed. "We formed the Merry Suns at age seven. We were refugees living in Little Ala Mhigo. Play at adventuring. We pretended to spy on suspicious merchants, slay dragons, turn back legions of Garleans. That sort of thing. And of course we took turns being Raubahn and Ilberd. When we came of age, we decided to do it all for real. The name which we had made up for playtime as children, we adopted as our band's official name."
"That sounds so sweet!"
"It was!" Erika grinned. "We had a lot of good times together. Until everything changed." Her smile slipped off her face as she returned to her gloomy mood. "Tortured to death by their own hero so that they'd reveal our safehouses and shief contacts. No one could have seen that coming. Nothing good came of that day."
Ardbert came to face her. "I'm sorry, Erika. I truly am." She nodded. After a while he stirred and looked around. "I hate to say it, but you are wrong about no good coming of that day."
"What?" she glared at him in furious shock.
"Sorry, it's just... look around." He gestured broadly at the land. "This world, what's left of it... it persists because of Hydaelyn; and Minfilia. it may look desperate, sad, bleeding, sick... but it's here. But for Minfilia's heroic sacrifice that day—going back into certain death the way she did—Norvandtr would have been successfully Rejoined a century ago."
"Huh. That is true," Erika admitted. 
"Hey, I'm glad some wisdom came from staying around till I hit the nonagenarian range!"
"Aren't you over a century old?" Erika asked.
"Yes, counting my time alive. But as a ghost, I'm a sprightly ninety-seven!"
Erika laughed again despite herself. He seemed pleased with himself. 
"And speaking of all not being as bad as it sounds," Ardbert said as though something had just struck him. "I don't think it was a bad thing necessarily, for Olivier to bring up that particular story."
Erika arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because it is an important tie to the question of whether to bring Ryosen here. You cannot make that decision without taking such an important event into consideration."
"Oh, I see!" 
"But in any case, it's still a bad story to go to bed brooding over." He smiled at her. "Why not head back over and tell another cute little tale?"
"An excellent idea!" Erika beamed. "I'll do just that!"
*
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katzenkrieg · 3 years
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Headcanon: Cam’s Physical and Mental/Aetheric Changes from pre-ARR through post-5.3
“What should I do today?” I wonder to myself. “I think I’ll stay on task and be produc--no, wait, now I’m writing a six-page overview of all the changes Cam’s experienced over the entirety of his story so far. Hm.”
Spoilers for everything through 5.3; Cam’s full lore document is here. It is currently 103 pages long. No regerts.
Physical and Mental/Aetheric Changes (A Rough Timeline):
The Battle of Carteneau begins - has first Echo flash (doesn’t remember it later)
The Battle of Carteneau ends - while knocked unconscious, has his face permanently tattooed by an experimental Garlean prisoner-of-war-marking device. The device is faulty, and also inflicts electrical damage that leaves Cam permanently mute.
The Calamity takes place and resolves - along with everyone else on the Source, Cam is assumed to have Rejoined with the shard of his shared soul that lived in whichever world was destroyed during the Calamity. The Rejoining took place across the rift/Lifestream, so no memories accompany the Rejoining, though it does increase soul density.
Regularly following the Battle of Carteneau to the present day - has Echo flashes, painful pseudo-blackouts during which he experiences the memories of others. He can’t predict when these will happen or will them to happen; though they can be useful, they’re also a serious liability, since they can (and do) occur in the middle of battle. The Echo also allows him to understand all spoken languages and to be understood when speaking (or, in his case, signing).
5 years after Carteneau, when he arrives in Gridania - first hears Hydaelyn’s voice and sees her in visions. It’s possible he’s Tempered by Hydaelyn at this time, giving him resistance to Tempering by other primals. Sporadically hears and has visions of Hydaelyn from that time to the present day.
Before the final battle with Gaius and the Ultima Weapon - receives the full Blessing of Light. Provides him with some protection against Ascian influence and allows him to summon a weapon of Light at pivotal moments, particularly when necessary to destroy Ascians.
After fighting Midgardsormr - loses the Blessing of Light, apparently due to Midgardsormr’s interference or in response to a bargain struck between Midgardsormr and Hydaelyn. His ability to hear Hydaelyn and call on the Blessing weakens; in particular, he no longer has unique protection against and the ability to destroy Ascians. He’s still able to be understood and to understand others, though, and still has Echo flashes.
Over the course of his time in Ishgard - regains the Blessing of Light.
During his final confrontations with both Thordan VII and Nidhogg - channels the power of both an eye of Nidhogg and an eye of Hraesvelgr. Doesn’t seem to be permanently influenced by either of these experiences, but it’s always possible something will show up in the future.
During his time in the First, prior to the defeat of Emet-Selch/Hades - absorbs the Light of five Lightwardens. Each absorption further disrupts his aether; to people with the ability to see aether, his looks exactly like that of a Lightwarden, even prior to his absorbing the Light of all five. Begins to experience brief painful convulsions during which he emits Light aether and has his vision blurred by Light. Following the absorption of Innocence/Vauthry’s Light energy, he loses control over the Light energy within him and becomes, for all intents and purposes, a Lightwarden in everything but appearance. 
He immediately begins to regain his voice, although it’s no longer one that’s recognizably human--it sounds almost metallic, extremely precise and clear, and seems to come from all directions at once.
Over the next few weeks, his new voice strengthens and sin eater growth forms around his throat; it replaces his damaged voice box. 
Regularly coughs up white ichor.
His hair begins to bleach to white.
His facial tattoos also begin to bleach, turning a very light gold/yellow.
His eye color begins to deepen to a truer red. 
White scar-like lines appear leading down from the sin eater growth at his throat straight down his sternum to the base of his ribcage, horizontally across the base of his ribcage, and across the top of his collarbones. These lines become more distinct over time and a recession starts to appear in the middle of each, as though the skin there is receding/pulling apart.
He begins to develop sharp downwards-pointing scale-like growth lining his throat, similar to pharyngeal teeth in some predators. 
His vision is permanently washed-out by Light and increasingly colorless. 
Any clothes he wears or objects he has on his person regularly also begin to bleach out to shades of white and gold. 
About a week into being a Lightwarden- he collapses during the Scions’ undersea search for Emet-Selch and almost loses control to the point of transforming. Fortunately, he has enough time to call on Feo Ul out of desperation; they answer and inform the Scions that Cam’s starving--he now requires living aether to survive. If he goes without living aether too long, he’ll collapse and transform; with living aether, he may be able to hold out longer against transformation. Feo Ul channels enough aether to Cam that he’s able to recover.
Following his first collapse from aether starvation - at least one aether-rich being stays near Cam (preferably touching him) at all times. Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanoa, and Mochi (his Fat/ter Cat) all help by playing this roll in turns--usually by riding on his shoulder or on top of his pack. Ardbert also offers aether. At night, all of them (including Ardbert) sleep either next to him or curled up on top of him, feeding him aether throughout the night. 
By the time they reach Amaurot - even the combined efforts of the beings feeding him aether are becoming stretched, and Cam has begun to catch himself viewing living things (especially anything very small, like the tidepool invertebrates the Tempest is full of) as food/prey. 
After entering Amaurot - the nature of Amaurot and Emet-Selch’s power there prevents any of the aether-rich beings who’ve been helping Cam from entering the city; only Ardbert is able to accompany Cam into Amaurot. His time in the city is marked by increasingly desperate hunger, to the point that he *does* eat some small creatures alive (but magically stunned) to see if that helps. It does, but only a tiny amount. He tries to conceal all of this from the other Scions. (Cam’s about as sneaky as a box of rocks falling on your head, so this doesn’t work very well.)
During the confrontation with Emet-Selch - loses control entirely and collapses, coughing up ichor, and beginning his final transformation into a sin eater. Ardbert offers to Rejoin with Cam, and Cam accepts, giving them both enough aether and a strong enough Rejoined soul to channel the Light aether within them into a weapon of Light and wipe out Hades.
Immediately following Hades’ defeat - having used the weapon of Light, he appears completely purged of excess Light energy and almost all of his Lightwarden transformations have disappeared, except the mutation around his throat and his sin eater voice. His hair color and tattoos remained bleached; his eyes have returned to their normal color.
After returning to the Source (but before the other Scions are able to return) - 
His hair begins to grow back in darker, eventually darkening to his usual black with blue highlights.
His facial tattoos gradually return to black.
Over the course of several weeks, he weakens again, similarly to, though not as severely as, he weakened due to aether hunger in the First. He returns to the Source briefly to consult Y’shtola, the Exarch, and Urianger about this; they confirm that, contrary to their original impressions right after the fight with Hades, his aether is still over-aspected to Light and it seems as though he still retains some need for living aether. He’s no longer at risk of transforming into anything if he ‘goes hungry,’ but he will eventually weaken and possibly eventually fall into a coma. 
Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanoa, and Mochi all again take up the responsibility of making sure to feed him enough aether that the aether hunger doesn’t affect him; this is much, much easier than before, and he really only needs a small aether infusion each day. The cats, in particular, are around him enough anyway that he rarely notices any deprivation. 
Krile also suggests he and Cid (or other researchers/scientists) find a way to cultivate an extremely aether-rich phytoplankton that’s native to oceans in the Source and make sure Cam keeps several vials of water infused with them on his person at all times, on the off-chance he’s isolated somewhere where Feo Ul, Midgardsormr, Shanao, and Mochi aren’t able to reach him. The idea is a successful one, and he carries this solution with him, in magical suspension so the phytoplankton stay alive, at all times.
His voice remains inhuman and disturbing, and the sin eater growth around his throat proves to be permanent.
Cid adapts an ancient Allagan caster’s torque so that it modifies Cam’s voice into something comfortably human. Cam starts wearing the torque at all times.
Cam has continuous (often several times a day) painful Echo-like flashes from Ardbert’s memories. He assumes (correctly) that this is a result of Rejoining with Ardbert, and just accepts that they’re a handicap he has to deal with and that they may never go away (though he’s concerned that they may mean Ardbert’s soul hasn’t completely Rejoined with his and is in pain).
He has night terrors and intense nightmares, most of them containing flashbacks of either Ardbert’s traumatic memories (particularly his own suicide and that of his friends’ and his time spent alone as a lost spirit) or the moments Cam came closest to transforming into a Lightwarden.
He discovers he can now fight using the great axe and a marauder/warrior style, despite never having trained with/in these.
He finds that he’s more apt to speak (though he still usually signs out of habit and preference, especially before Cid develops the torque that modifies his voice); Ardbert had no experience ever being unable to speak, and this affects Cam’s own tendencies. 
He’s now amazingly good with animals. He was never bad with them before, but he’s incredibly good with riding animals and sometimes even wild animals now, and can calm them remarkably effectively and quickly. This is, again, based on Ardbert’s own talents and life experiences.
After defeating Elidibus and being exposed to Azem’s memory stone:
The painful Echo flashes of Ardbert’s memories disappear, and Cam and Ardbert finally integrate completely. Memories from part of his soul’s time as Ardbert are all there for Cam to access, but they’re comfortably distant and don’t conflict with or disrupt his memories of his life as just Cam or his life after Rejoining; they usually come up to the surface when he needs them or when he runs into something in particular that reminds him of something specific from that time (sense memories, in particular, will trigger for him now and then). He’s able to navigate the First as though he’s lived there for years, and knows a lot more than people who don’t know about his Rejoining think could be possible about the world before the flood of Light.
His night terrors and nightmares become less frequent and severe, though they don’t entirely go away.
He remembers anything that involved Cam and Ardbert being in the same place at the same time from both sides, which *can* be a bit disorienting. One reliable way to make Cam blush is to ask about what that’s like and how much he remembers in that way--since he and Ardbert had developed a sexual/romantic relationship as time went on in the First (which obviously required quite a bit of creativity), he has some two-perspective memories that he’s never going to describe to anyone, thanks.
People ask if it feels like he’s two people or if Ardbert’s still there within him as a separate entity. Cam has yet to successfully explain to anyone, but to him it feels like he’s just always been one person--just occasionally that one person was in two places at once. He also thinks this should feel weird, and like it somehow invalidates his being Cam or Ardbert’s being Ardbert, but it doesn’t. It just feels natural.
Cam’s aether’s settled even more into a proper stable integrated state, more so than it’s ever been post-Lightwarden and post-Rejoining. It’s also more intense and slightly denser, even considering his Rejoining. Y’shtola and Urianger have concluded this, and the complete integration of Ardbert’s soul and memories, must be a result of Cam’s experience with Azem’s memory stone.
He still retains some aether hunger, but it’s extremely slight and even the normal level of exposure to arcanic or aether-rich entities that comes from going about an average day means he rarely even notices it.
His voice, even without the torque, still sounds recognizably inhuman but also less alien. He’s comfortable using his voice unmodified now in certain situations (especially if he needs projection or needs to be heard through a lot of other noise/chaos). The sin eater growth hasn’t changed.
He’s grown several inches. Fortunately, this growth spurt stopped after a few months and doesn’t show any signs of returning. It does mean he went without any clothes or armor that fit properly for a while :| Again, everyone assumes this was a result of exposure to Azem’s memory stone. Cam’s just grateful he hasn’t ended up 15 feet tall…
His hair started to grow in a different color again--this time yellow and orange. At this point, Cam’s just like, “oh, fuck it, who cares anymore” about changing coloration occasionally. This is likely another result of exposure to Azem’s memory stone; Cam’s body seems to have shifted slightly to reflect some of what the Scions assume was Azem’s appearance.
His facial tattoos have also lightened back to light gold/yellow, though they’ll shift rather startlingly to an intense light blue from time to time--sometimes quickly and briefly and sometimes fading into the color and back over the course of days. Nero’s posited that it’s related to aether conditions, either externally or internally, or possibly due to the interplay of both external and internal conditions, but, as usual, no one’s letting him test this theory out by exposing Cam to aetherical extremes. No fun.
After having it pointed out to him that tattoos aren’t *actually* part of someone’s living body and they really shouldn’t be able to change with him like that, Cam’s grudgingly accepted that they’re probably part of him and not just ink scarring his skin any longer. Urianger has also untactfully pointed out that they look remarkably like Ascian projection markings or possibly Amaurotine mask markings, and Cam gave him enough of a look that Urianger shut up. 
Cam can call up a glamour to make both his hair and facial tattoos appear their original colors if he wants to; he can’t do much about the height change, though.
Cam’s sure he’s not Azem, despite the physical changes; the memory stone gave him some general vague feelings about Azem’s existence and nature, but nothing specific. Overall, what he felt from it was rock-solid reassurance that no matter what changed in the future, his life was his own and not Azem’s and that he could be absolutely confident in that. It also seems to have, as mentioned above, strengthened his aetherical integration and smoothed over all of the cracks both becoming a Lightwarden and Rejoining left in his aether and identity.
Experientially, Cam is now the second oldest Scion, behind G’raha Tia. Ardbert was likely in his 20s and Cam is 35 at the end of Shadowbringers; Ardbert also spent a century as a wandering ghost. This brings Cam up to around 160 years old -- 60 if you don’t count Ardbert’s time after death. Thancred is very pleased not to have to deal with being the ‘old man’ of the Scions any longer, now that Cam and G’raha have taken that title and run off with it by centuries. Cid now occasionally emphasizes the ‘old’ when he calls Cam ‘old friend,’ if he really wants to give Cam shit.
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dholwrites · 4 years
Text
Home Is Where The Heart Is
Relationship: Thancred Waters x WoL OC
Rating: E
Note: [Contain ShB spoilers]
Seeing Minifilia again felt like tearing open the stitches on her heart. Fuujin had just barely begun to recover from her guilt, only for the seams to come apart when she saw the signature blonde hair and otherworldly blue eyes. The pain wraps itself around her, like a hand around her throat and a knife in her chest. There’s so much to say, so much to tell her; things they once laughed about over a warm meal, things they would cry about on each other’s shoulders. 
A wave of burning lava fills her stomach, it overflows until all she saw was red. Words threaten to spill out as everyone else around her easily accepts Ryne’s new name. The feeling didn’t go away even when Urianger’s expressed his surprise that Thancred had been listening. The heavy weight of her relationship with Thancred was starting to take its toll. Alisaie casts her a forced smile as Ryne beams at her new name and powers, even hurrying to make herself useful. 
With Ryne leading everyone towards the next Lightwarden, her anger simmers down into a manageable level, only for it to rise back up when Thancred matches her footsteps. With each step, they fall farther behind. A brush of his fingers at the back of her hand, stalling for a moment before he worms them in between hers, curling around them. A gentle squeeze was all it took. Fuujin whips her hand out of his grasp, shaking him off without a second thought, and hurries to catch up with everyone else.
“Fuu-“ 
“Don’t Fuu~ me!” Her own nickname feels like lead on her tongue. The hair on her sleek tail puffs up as she bares her teeth at him. She hisses through them, “if you think that after everything you pulled, that I’ll take you back as easily as her. You. Are. Mis-tak-en.” The Seeker jabs his chest with her finger at every syllable, her blue eyes turn icy despite the fire behind them. 
Thancred staggers back at the force, brown eyes wide, his mouth dropped open. A loud sigh escapes his nose as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fuu, I figured that you out of everyone would understand that Ryne-”
“That Ryne is so helpless, that you need to cater to her every whim,” Fuujin cuts in, her voice lightly wavering as she continues to move towards the well. “So much so that you need to neglect every other problem you have. You didn’t even look at me when we finally saw each other.”
“Of course, I did! I missed you every-”
“Then… why haven’t you said anything to me?” They stop moving altogether, standing just an arm's length apart. A part of her wishes to run back into his arms, her heart aches to soothe and erase the lost look on his face. She wants him back. Yet the pain of their relationship digs its claws into her very heart, caging what love she has. “He told me that you were here for five years. Five long years. While you were stuck in a world that we know nothing about, I visited you every night after you passed out. No one knew what was happening. You were just… gone.”
She remembered it all too well. While his body still had the breath of life, everyone told her that he’s there. There, yet his soul wasn’t. Taken right in front of her very eyes and she could do not a thing about it. Fuujin thought that it would be the end of it. She was wrong. One by one, her family fell around her. First Y’shtola and Urianger; the two had always been a gentle guiding hand. Suddenly gone. Then Alphinaud, sweet Alphinaud came back in the arms of a former enemy. The look that crossed Alisaie’s face shattered the heart that she was still trying to piece together. 
The loss drove her and Alisaie closer together, closer than they had ever been. They started sleeping in the same room, in the same bed. The fear of losing each other too great to even let go of the other’s hands. They swore to never leave. The rest of the Scions did what they could to help. They didn’t feel the same aches, but they could take care of everything else. With Tataru’s help, they kept the Rising Stones alive, took care of primals, and tended to everyone else as the girls huddled away. 
Then it happened. The pain in her mind that was enough to distort the vision of Alisaie reaching out to her. Yet when Fuujin reached out to take her hand, it wasn’t enough. 
It wasn’t enough.
Fuujin shakes her head of the thoughts, hand reaching up to flick off imaginary tears. “You know what that was? The last care I have. Whatever we had was obviously not important enough that you don’t have something to say after five years.”
“Well, you should know that is clearly not true. I- WE have more urgent things to do than to worry about something as stu-” His words stalled as soon as he realized what he was about to say.
“Oh. No. Why don’t you finish that sentence? Just say it. Stupid. It’s so stupid, right? This little thing called ‘Our Relationship’ is apparently so stupid that you’re more than happy to forget about it.” Thancred’s lips have set into a frown, his brow furrowing as he opens his mouth to say something, only for nothing to come out. The words taste as foul as they sound to her ears, but she wants to hurt him as he has hurt her. “All those hours spent worrying over you, searching for an answer. And when you were finally within reach… Nothing.”
He lets out a sigh, turning his face away from her, expression unreadable. Her eyes were drawn to the hand that had reached out for her. The same hand that once took her own and kissed the back of it when they first met.
“I… love you.” Her voice cracks under the admission, all her anger bringing tears to her eyes. Her hands reach up to furiously cover them as she spoke on. A flush begins to cover her face as she bites back a sob. “I still love you. I still do. But you’re making it hard to keep going.”
Using her black hair like a curtain, she shields herself away from him, from the world. He simply stood there as she cried into her hands. Unsure of what to do he slowly wraps his arms around her, pressing her against his chest to allow her to sobs to subside. Pressed against the leather that smells of blood, sweat, and dust, Fuujin forces back her tears and straightens herself. The miqo’te tears herself from his arms, taking shaky breaths to calm the feelings that still threaten to come pouring out again. Thancred spoke up first.
“Let’s talk about this later.” She had never wished for the night to come so quickly than in that moment. It would be easier to hide the evidence of her tears in the dark.
__
Back in the Crystarium, there’s a clear tension in the air. Y’shtola has shooed her off like a mother would a child. Fuujin couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of the other miqo’te taking her over her knee. She looks away only to lock eyes with the man that had brought her to tears, the smile on her lips faltering as she walks past him to her room. Perhaps it was a trick of her mind. He… Thancred looked like he wanted to say something. There’s a lonely, pained glint in his face as his lips press into a straight line. 
Her heart fluttered in her chest, perhaps a spark of hope that they will be able to rekindle this relationship. Yet her mind reasons that there shouldn’t be any, not when she still feels the echoes of disappoint mixing with anger in her chest. The miqo’te took the long path back to her room, watching the excitement as news of the night spread like wildfire. Civilians young and old were quick to flock around and set up stalls to celebrate the Warrior of Darkness. 
By the time she made it back to her room, her body was aching and exhausted. So much so that she struggled to fully enjoy the food and drinks set out for her. Ardbert had even granted her wish for privacy. At least, until someone came knocking on her door. 
“Fuujin, can you let me in, please?” She hesitated for a moment. Should she? Is she truly ready to take him back? The miqo’te wished she could just say no, but instead she clicks the door’s lock. He opens the door just enough for him to squeeze in and slam it shut behind him.
Thancred pressed himself completely against her, his arms wrapped tightly around her small waist as his face nuzzled her long, black hair, careful that the headpiece won’t get caught on his shirt. She could feel his breath on her ears; deep, slow, purposeful. With every exhale, the tension from his shoulders would slip off. All until he was practically clinging onto her like a child seeking comfort. He finally whispers out a reply, muffled by her hair but she can hear it all the same.
“I’m sorry.” He continues to mumble those two words until she finally reaches up to wrap her arms around his waist. Her touch seems to snap him out of his desperation to apologize to her. Thancred pulls away just enough to look into her eyes. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, much less by me. But- but I ask that you have a little patience with me, so I can explain everything.”
“I… forgive you, okay?” The anger that she had for him was washed away with his apology. The Seeker pressing her cheek against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against hers and his breath tickling her sensitive ears. “I ask that you make it up to me from here on out. No more secrets, no more avoiding me.”
She could feel him nod into her hair, breathing out a sigh relief and muttered words. Fuujin pulls away to look up at him, to see the expression fixed on his face. Thancred rests his forehead against hers, their breath heating up space between them. His expression is nothing short of relief, eyes darting back and forth between her blue eyes and plump lips, as if asking for permission. He tilts his head just slightly and she could feel the ghost of his lips brushing against her. So close she could taste his breath, so close she wants nothing more than to pull him down into a smothering kiss.
“Is there a way that I can make it up?” An idea began to form in her head, something to get all the pent up frustration out of them. Something that she has been wishing for before all this mess started. 
“There is… one way you can make it up to me right now. I want you to take my first time.” Thancred nods again, instantly agreeing to the idea. Only for the words to finally register in his mind. The sound that came out of him was a strange mix of a gasp and delightful glee. She taps his lips with a finger, which he quickly presses a kiss against. The Seeker can’t help but soften up at his affection. “But you’re not allowed to have your lips anywhere close to being down there. I want to see your face.” 
Thancred put his dexterous fingers to work helping her out of her outfit, eager to take this chance to rekindle their love. First the headpiece, making sure to press a delicate kiss to her forehead as he untangles the feathers from her hair. Then her gloves, his lips dance across her tan skin as he slips off the rings with it. Only once it’s time to remove her chest wrappings, Thancred slows his pace, tracing the line between the fabric and her skin, admiring the way the silver decoration draws his attention to the area surrounding it. His eyes growing darker and tongue darting out to lick his lips. His eyes raise up to lock eyes with her and flash her a cheeky smile.
“Alright, I’ll admit. I have Twelves’ damn clue of how that thing works,” he raises up his hands, looking away as a sprinkle of red gather on his cheeks from being caught. Yet a cheeky smile crosses his face and turns back to her, Thancred strokes the side of his chest, flexing the muscles that he had gained for the past five years. He cast her a sultry gaze. “Would my lady mind taking care of it while I remove mine? Or would you prefer that I try to wrestle your dress off of you?”
A sound akin to a snort makes its way out of her at his question. The Seeker could only roll her eyes and finish his work for him. She reaches up and with a snap, Fuujin easily pulled it down until the entire dress pooled around her ankles. Kicking the pile of clothes aside, her hands working to add her small clothes to the pile and kicking off her shoes. Fuujin takes a hesitant step towards him, watching as his eyes blow wide at the sight of her bare body. A wave of nerves fills her at the lack of remarks. 
“You’re beautiful.” Breathless, wonder-filled words pour out of his lips. 
His long white coat was thrown off and dropped with little care on the ground. Following with it were his gloves, belt, and thick armor until he was left with his form-fitting small clothes. She could make out his cock through the tent forming. It was the first time she gets to see him so exposed. Her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she eyes it with interest. He toes off his boots, having them slip right off and land on the floor with a ‘thud’ as he climbs onto the bed on his knees, his hand guiding her to lie down on the bed.
While his body moves boldly and expertly, his hand skims tentatively to cup her cheek then down along the curve of her breast, mumbling praise as he kisses her lips. His thumb circles around her nipple, just grazing it ever so slightly to pull a desperate gasp out of her. A hungry look gleaming in his eyes as their gazes lock, with him leaning down to kiss between the valley of her chest.
“I dreamt of this moment for the past five years. I spent the better part of my time wanting nothing more than to be able to see you again, to touch you, to feel you again.” He whispers almost dreamily, before his voice deepens, “more than once did I imagine what I would do when I could finally return to you. The next thing I knew, five years had passed.”
She barely has time to react to his statement before his mouth latches onto her nipple. He alternates between rolling his tongue over the sensitive nib, flicking it, and sucking on it to elicit moans from his lover. Making sure to keep each breast occupied with his hand and his mouth.
Before he could do anything else, Fuujin hesitantly grabs one of his wrists and pulls it down between her legs, relishing in the feeling of his bare fingers stroking the inside of her thigh. She shoots him a desperate look that brought a lopsided grin to his face. Thancred nudges her to spread her legs further apart, situating himself between them comfortably. The anticipation builds up in her veins at every inch he draws closer to her sex. His warm touches only make her ache for him where she needs him most. When he finally reaches it, an undeniable moan of his name escapes her lips. The sound of it only encourages him to tease her even more.
Fuujin couldn’t stop grinding against his hand, feeling her juices coat his fingers as he rubbed his thumb in circles against her clit. Thancred presses his lips against hers when he finally slips inside, kissing away every muffled gasp and moan. Her own fingers grasp the bedsheets even harder, the muscles underneath beginning to strain from the strength. Her entire body growing warmer with each passing moment, the sweet waves of pleasure travel from the tip of her ears to the end of her toes.
She could feel him crook his fingers inside her and rub against a sensitive spot, the strength of her legs draining and what felt like a fire was set at the pit of her stomach. Not even his kisses could stop the sharp gasps and long drawn out moans from her lips, her tail thumping lightly against his thigh as his free hand roams and gropes her chest again.
Her legs begin to quiver as she draws closer to her orgasm, the miqo’te finally letting go of the sheets to grab the silver strands of his hair to pull him back to claim his mouth again. A low groan from him drowns out the sounds she can’t help but make. White completely fills her vision as she unravels in his hand, letting out a high pitched keen as her back arches against him from the force.
Fuujin couldn’t help but feel empty as he pulls his fingers out of her. She can see the juice of her climax covering his hand. He made a show of dragging his tongue over his finger, sucking at them, even letting out a low moan at the taste. “You taste delicious, better than anything I’ve ever imagined.”
She was panting heavily, recovering from his actions. Her eyes turning dark and tongue darting out to lick her lips. But there’s still a fire raging inside her despite what she just experienced. She needs it. The one thing that would finally relieve her of this fire. She needs him to stop playing around and finally fuck her. “Thancred,” Fuujin moans reaching out to trail her hand down his chest, feeling all the muscle he had built for training as a Gunbreaker for the 5 years he was here. Toned, defined, and mouth-watering to see, she couldn’t help but drool at the thought that this was all hers . Her hand makes its way down until she comes into contact with his clothed erection, even brushing her thumb over a damp spot near the top to elicit an unrestrained growl from him.
“I hope that you know what’s going to happen if you keep touching that.” Thancred lightly threatens. All the noise from earlier has stretched his patience thin, practically ripping off his strained smallclothes and tossing them aside. With a nod of her head, he adjusts himself back between her legs, taking his time to stroke himself until he was fully erect. Only when she made a needy plea did he guide himself into her soaking heat. Fuujin accepts him with little to no resistance thanks to his fingers. But they do not compare at all to what she feels now. There is an undeniable stretch as she feels every inch of him as he carefully pries her open in the most delicious of ways. He was so thick, thicker than her fingers, his own fingers. Thick enough that she left like she wall full to the brim. 
They both groan together when he finally settles in her, her legs wrapping loosely around his waist. Thancred stalls for a few moments to allow her to adjust, his hands delicately guiding her legs up to rest them on his shoulders, even giving one ankle a kiss. His hands supporting her at her hips. Fuujin quickly loses her patience as the quiet moment drags on. Despite the way he lavishes her face and legs with attention from his touch, her tail twitching and curling around his leg as if she depended on him to move . Getting the hint, he began a steady rhythm. Slowly and gradually building up until he found the perfect pace to pull light moans, desperate gasps, and sweet sighs from her. With each roll of his hips, the miqo’te gets to watch as his muscles flex, each motion sending fresh waves of pleasure and excitement coursing through her veins. Yet it wasn’t enough. She rocks her own hips to meet his and stars fill her eyes as he brushes against the sweet spot from earlier.
Thancred had to know what he was doing to her. The way his thrusts came harder and quicker, his hands helping her to meet him in perfect unison. She closes her eyes, shutting out her vision and controlling her shaky breathing, yet she can’t help but let out every moan and gasp while underneath him. The flame has turned into an intense heat pooled in her abdomen, hot and frantic, threatening to consume her. 
Then he suddenly stops, the fire taming down but remaining resilient. Before a snarky complaint could come out of her mouth, he starts his hips again, adding fuel to the fire that grows inside her. And then… he stops again. 
“Stop teasing!” She smacks his bare chest as he stalls himself one more time. A light chuckle falls from his lips draws her eyes open to look at his own. A soft smile and gaze full of adoration. Open adoration for her . His thrusting starts again, this time without stopping. The flame finally bursting, her orgasm slamming into her and pulling out sounds that she didn’t realize that she could make. Her eyes grow hazy as he continues to fuck her through the waves of her orgasm. 
The very moment she starts to come down from her high, Thancred reaches down between her folds to stroke her sensitive bud. She didn’t think it would be possible, but he brought her back to the very edge before she could finish the last one. 
“Can you cum? Just one more time, Fuu, just for me.” He whispers above her, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping skin. Before she even realizes, the miqo’te feels the familiar coil between her legs. Throat becoming slightly sore as she screams out his name between ragged breaths. An orgasm so intense that she came close to blacking out. Her back arches off the bed, walls convulsing around him as he continues the punishing pace.  Her eyes finally clear up to watch as Thancred’ face contorts to one not short of pleasure as he reaches his own climax. He drops his head to her shoulders as she feels his hot cum fill her. 
Panting heavily, he pulls out of her and collapses into the bed on his back. Despite feeling the exhaustion sink need into his bones, his hand reach cradles her head. Pulling her to rest her head against his chest as the both of them come down from their high. Thancred took deep, shuddering breaths, muscles flexing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. The thumping of his heart fills the ear pressed against his chest. He presses a gentle kiss above her eye, an arm wrapped around her waist.
The lull of sleep starts to take hold of her. Wrapped up between the warmth of his arms and the gentle rhythm of his heart, Fuujin closes her eyes, slowly slipping into a dreamless sleep, safe and satisfied. Just moments before she loses consciousness, Thancred shifts underneath her. She could feel his hand running through her hair and tracing nonsense patterns on her back. Her eyes flutter close as he wraps a light blanket over them, and whispers softly in her ear.
“I love you, Fuu. And I will love you until the end of time.”
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fheythfully · 5 years
Text
“Paint a picture for me, please.” Between arriving at Top Rung and heading to Mt. Gulg, The Warrior of Light and Emet-Selch have a chat about Amaurot. [big Shadowbringers spoilers, theory-crafting, and WoL/Emet-Selch if you squint real hard don’t worry next one you won’t need to squint haaaah]
She finds him skulking around the gates of the Tower, shoulders hunched low as is his wont and eyes squinting even in the restored sunlight. Hesitation holds her steps, though she knows there is no possibility of him not having noticed her approach. She feels his eyes on her at all times, lately, ever since he deigned to join them for the foray into the Greatwood. Even when he is absent she feels the weight of his gaze on her back: pressing and expectant.
Her stomach turns. She does not want the expectation of one such as him. An Ascian, of all people, with his back turned so casually towards her—not in trust but in dismissal, in the assurance that she will do nothing to him that he cannot do to her tenfold in return. A hundredfold, a thousandfold, if he is to be believed.  She will shoulder the burden of expectation from the Scions, and now from all of the First, but from him?
Never. Not after all that he and his kind have done.
Emet-Selch appears to be picking at the crystalline walls with a finger. The light hits his hair and the pauldrons of the immense, heavy Garlean coat he insists on wearing; in the sunlight, large figure hunched over, he looks as much of a suspicious figure as he truly is. The Exarch’s guard is giving him the side-eye from near the doors, one hand inching towards his sword and Lia does not blame him. She wishes to do the same, though perhaps not as often as before—not after his suspiciously kind retrieval of Shtola from the Lifestream.
She knows why she has sought him out, for once, and not the other way around. Sure, there had been her burning questions and his willingness to answer, but never had it been just the two of them alone and not sequestered with the other Scions and the Exarch in a convenient time and place for questioning. The words they’d shared in Kholusia while waiting for the Ladder burn at her, tumble through her head to the point of giving nightmares. She has woken up more than once throughout the night to find Ardbert’s ghostly form within reach, one hand on her forehead as he told her, quietly, that she had been crying.
She does not remember why she cries at night, or the depths of her dreams. Only the voice of the godsdamn Ascian.
“…and then there was Amaurot…”
He had looked so wistful then, gazing up at the sky. So appropriately ancient and burdened, even more so than she.
“Never was a city more magnificent. From the humblest streets to the highest spires, she fairly gleamed…”
Despite herself, she had tried to imagine it: towers stretching to the sky, shades of white and grey; wide streets made for an eternal population and perhaps greenery, carefully placed by its citizens.
Amaurot.
Amaurot.
She wants, despite herself, to know more.
“Well,” Emet-Selch snaps before her, all annoyance. “Will you keep staring at my back for precious eons, or ask whatever it is you came here for?”
It is a fight to keep the scowl from her lips as he turns towards her, his own mouth down-turned as he takes her in. It is hard to reconcile him with the man at the Bottom Rung, who had appeared almost soft when caught in his memory of a better world. It is unfair, she thinks suddenly and passionately, to see a villain made so human.
“Would you walk with me?” She asks instead of giving voice to her thoughts. Her palms feel clammy, although she does not know why, and so she presses them together behind her back. The straight line of her spine gives her strength to look at him without fear, without worry; she does not fear him, or worry for her life when with him. He has had many chances to kill her or to kill them all, and she does not doubt that a great and terrible power lies within the body he has manifested for himself. Yet still her fingers tremble, her heartbeat erratic to her own ears.
Something within her fears something within him, and she does not know why nor what. She only knows the tremors in her heart giving rise to nightmares and tears she does not understand.
Emet-Selch squints at her now, one finger to his chin. “Alone with you, Warrior? Have you decided to pull more of your heroic duties and attempt to dispose of me? I assure you, there is no perch high enough to throw my body off of here. You would be dead before you thought to try.” The frown on his face turns into a familiar smile, making a mockery of her in time with his words. “And there would be so many witnesses. We would need a truly desolate place for you to attempt your murder.”  
She loses the fight against scowling. The guard eavesdropping on their conversation (not his fault, of course, they are right there) sends her a concerned look, not doubting her but rather the man in front of her—she dismisses him with a hand, all her attention focused on Emet-Selch. He is like a godsdamned magnet to it; she cannot, for the life of her, relax when he is present. And he has promised to be watching always, and unlike Ardbert’s now familiar and comforting promise to remain with her, the idea of Emet-Selch judging her every move makes her skin itch. She cannot focus on anything but the Ascian when he deigns to manifest himself, eyes constantly drawn to his face and the motions of his hands, waiting for the hint of a coming attack.
“Oh,” his voice comes again, lines forming in the corners of his eyes as his smile widens. “I do believe I’ve made you angry.”
Lia pulls back her lips in her own mockery of a smile. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you. I will be flinging no bodies over walkways today, so if it pleases you: a walk?”
Emet-Selch is silent. There is bird-song in the air, curious wildlife coming out to inspect the light of the sun. At last he drops his finger from his chin and gazes levelly at her. The mockery of his smile softens to curiosity in the corners, just a touch but enough for her to notice—familiar enough for her to pick up on.
She hates that she does, has known him now long enough to see the tells he allows her to see.
“You must truly want to know of something, then.” He shrugs a grandiose motion, the same as everything about him: the clothes, the speech, the near-rapport she has developed with him. “Let us away then, Warrior, and you may have all of my attention.”
She makes a derisive noise. “Better me than the Exarch, Ascian. Leave the busy man alone, would you?” She does not look back to see if he follows her, so assured that he will: she has piqued his curiosity now, for once seeking him out instead of the other way around. For once, she wants something only he can give; it is him that she comes to, not Urianger or Y’Shtola or the Exarch.
Many people want many things of her. It is atypical for her to want something of them. She wonders if he knows this; wonders how closely he has followed her journey from adventurer to vaunted Warrior.
And indeed his footsteps fall heavy beside her. “Ascian?” He scoffs, a pout she glimpses from the corners of her eyes. “Are we still not on first-name basis? Not that you deserve such an honour, as lowly as your kind are. But me? I think I deserve more than Ascian at this point.”
She sets to lead him up to the Rotunda overlooking the markets, purely because he made the remark about high places. She knows he recognizes the pettiness of her move by the way his shoulders straighten for the briefest of moments, repressed laughter shaking them into motion. Truly, she would believe his claims to being ancient by his posture alone. How did the Garleans ever decide make Emperor of a man with such bad manners?
Few people mill about this high up. It affords them the privacy she had sought, out of respect for the hint of genuine pain she believes to have glimpsed from him that day at Bottom Rung.
“Very well, Emet-Selch, which, by the by, is not even your name.” He sends her an un-amused look as she stops short, turning to properly look at him. Even hunched as he is, she still has to peer up, up—nearly as bad as an Elezen or a Viera, the Garleans. She wonders what his race had looked like when they had been alive. What traits do they share now, with the races which had evolved and flourished in the wake of their demise?
“The tales of your diplomacy fall short of the reality,” the man drawls. “But ask away anyway, Warrior, and perhaps I will even give you an answer.”
One of her eyebrows raises, incredulous. “After following me all the way here, you still think I do not believe you interested in chatting? Do not take me for such a fool, please.” She continues on before he can open his mouth in reply. “Yes, yes, we are all fools and beneath you, I have heard it all before. But, regardless—“ and here she catches her breath, the hesitation creeping back in, the tremor in her hands suddenly felt again.
She pushes on, puts on the Warrior persona, the expectations of all those around her making her brave, making her false. “You spoke of your ancient city some days ago at Bottom Rung. Of Amaurot. I would like to know more of it, if you would speak.”
Amaurot. Staring at him as she is now, the name tastes strangely of ash and her own shed tears. She nearly misses the flinch of his body at her request, the minute widening of his eyes. But he recovers quickly, and he recovers well—and for one as ancient as he, she knows, control must be as easy as breathing.
The constant smile on his face is back once more, almost too many teeth as he laughs quietly. “You ask to hear of what I’ve lost? Truly, Warrior? Have you no shame?”
“Not when it comes to you,” her response comes rapid-fire fast, chin raised in stubbornness. “If you did not wish for me to question you, then you would not have spoken so freely to me that day. And did you not promise me a talk, on a more pleasurable occasion?” She spreads her arms around her, indicating the scene: the Crystarium at peace, the crystalline ceiling above them bright and blue from the midday sun. “And we are unlikely to get a time more pleasurable than this, Emet-Selch.”
His golden eyes narrow at her words, assessing as always. A moment of silence passes, filled only with the chatter of the markets below. “Very well,” he says at last. “What would you have me tell you?”
Well—she hadn’t truly expected to get this far. He had been forthcoming with his answers on matters whenever she asked in the past, but there had always been a thread of secrecy left, a patronizing gleam in his eyes as he talked as if to a child—nay, one he did not even consider alive. She had expected more resistance, at least, before being offered even a glimpse of his past.
She wets her suddenly dry lips. “Everything. Paint a picture for me, please.”
His gaze is piercing, weighing; will he find her wanting? Or will he find enough—enough to give him a captive audience as he shares a world once whole and brilliant, and forever perfect in his memories?
Her heart beats out a nervous drum within her breast. The thought of unexplored lands, of ancient cities buried to time—those have always given her the adrenaline rush she seeks, but this feels—heavier. This is a time before time itself; before Hydaelyn and Zodiark. Before death. Before the first true Calamity.
Emet-Selch opens his mouth and speaks. His past tone of whining and complaining, of snobbery, falls away and she glimpses the Emperor of Garlemald he had once been—or perhaps even long before that, in that time before time itself. He orates himself eloquently and assuredly, the rise and fall of his voice painting the picture she had so desired in her mind. At some point she closes her eyes, lulled into the fantasy he weaves for her: a city of alien structures stretching high towards a brilliant sky, shining white and unblemished in the light of a different sun. Wide city streets of similar stone are busied by robed figures, laughing and speaking and debating and basking in the feeling of their perfect society. They have not known war, or conflict; there is only contentment in the air. Children play and run from their parents and make flowers burst out of thin air; a figure watches them go, and suddenly the material she had been working on between her hands falters and changes, much to her amusement and annoyance. She gathers it into her arms and begins anew, magic shimmering and weaving around her as natural as breathing.
Birds alight on blooming trees, the likes of which she had never seen before—both bird and tree. Yet still she sees them clearly in her mind for the briefest of moments; vibrant violet blooms and eagles with too long wings and beaks, sparrows with strange colour patterns and a trill so beautiful it aches the heart. Emet-Selch speaks and she sees intricately crafted arches and entire city districts, buildings where citizens gather purely to debate or discuss creation. She does not think she fully understands what he means when he speaks of this strange magic, of breathing existence into a thought as easily as one exhales, but she can see it. Can see the magic in the air, the flow of aether as it winds throughout the city and touches upon everything within: the Ancients are made of aether themselves and everything they make is imbued with it, shines with it.
Her body shakes with the idea of it, of being so in tune with the aether of the world. For the briefest of moments she imagines that she can do it, too—that she can will entire ideas into existence, one careful thought at a time. What wonders would she make, with a power like that?
And at the center of it all, she sees it: The Capitol, grandiose yet modest. Inside sits the Convocation of Fourteen in their dark robes, a sturdy bench warm under her weight and voices familiar as they rise and fall around the topics of the day. Emet-Selch stifles a sigh beside her, the shifting of his crossed arms sending an elbow into her side and she hopes he can feel her amused sympathy. Lahabrea is the Speaker for a reason, but even for her there are some days where she wishes the meetings did not stretch on for as long as they did. She reaches up to adjust the mask on her face, its material as comfortable as second skin, and casts her eyes about the room. Every one of them is near and dear to her, even if they do not always agree on all topics. But that is the perfection of their society; they have an eternity to discuss, to learn, to grow.
Her attention falls back to Lahabrea, who is gesturing with his arms in a familiar performance. The light in the room shifts with the passing of the sun outside and the shadows under his hood change, and—
—and Thancred’s face is staring out at her, twisted with fury and agony, a voice not his screaming at her—
She snaps open her eyes and chokes on air, big gasping breaths as if she had not been breathing this entire time. Wildly she reaches for her throat as if the familiar weight of her fingers will help the airflow, and for a second she’s too big for her body—
A hand reaches out and touches her cheek, sweeping under her eye and the tears she had not realized that had gathered there. The Crystarium blooms into existence back around her: the trees bright and otherworldly pink, its citizens below her loud and at once familiar and so very not. This isn’t right, she thinks for half a second, still trapped in the spell of Emet-Selch’s dream. They’re not right. They’re not—they’re not—
She looks up towards the figure before her. She had not realized Emet-Selch had stopped speaking, or had stepped close to her at some point during it all. For once he stands at full height and still she has the crazy thought that it was wrong, that everything around them was empty and bereft of—
Of—
She opens her mouth to speak but it all escapes her. The emptiness within her has vanished, leaving only an echo of the wrongness and a heart threatening to burst from her chest. Blinking, she stares up at Emet-Selch, still gathering her wits about her.
He makes a tsking sound with his tongue. “Come now, none of that.” Quickly, before she can move away, he reaches out once more and brushes aside the tears falling over her cheeks. “This was not a tale meant to make you weep. Here I am, abiding by your most ardent request, and all you do is cry in response? I don’t know why I bother.”
He steps away from her then and she watches him go, still caught in a stupor. “Forgive me,” she says automatically, voice catching in her throat. The echo of wrongness remains, demanding—something. Reaching up she presses her knuckles into her eyes, and—and she thinks, of all things, of Ascians masks, of what one would feel like her against her face.
How long did you live for? She thinks, staring at Emet-Selch now looking at the markets below. How long did you live for before your Calamity?
“Thank you for your time,” she says at last, once she has composed herself enough. Her hands have not stopped shaking and now also burn with a desire to move and shape things with magic she does not have. It makes her sick to her stomach to think of how deeply she had fallen under his spell. Was that, too, a power of the Ascians? Did he use his magic on her?
She’s floating off again, caught in a thought she does not feel herself enough to follow. She feels too full and too empty all at once, sick and bursting without knowing what she wants. It is a feeling almost like the one she awakens with after Hydaelyn calls her, but something about this makes her yearn in a way she never has before; an ache she does not have a name for, a cause for.
I didn’t want this, she thinks. I didn’t, I swear.
She lies. Lies, lies, lies, because within that dream she was herself enough to recognize the truth: her world was ugly, incomplete, when compared to the past Emet-Selch had so wonderfully described.
And it matters little now, of course; his world is long dead and buried and she is the here and now, the one to stop his Rejoining. She will not rebuild a past on corpses and bones.
“If I knew my words alone would affect you so,” Emet-Selch is speaking again, his stare all too amused and focused for her liking. She feels like burning under his gaze, feels the imprint of his skin at her side for that one brief moment in the strange dream. “Perhaps I should have merely created the city for you, and let you wander at your own leisure. I’m sure there would be no tears were I not to be present.”
She bursts into laughter against her will. It catches him as off guard as it does her; she has not laughed around him before, if ever on the First thus far. She does not remember the last time she laughed this freely. When did she start finding his off-colour comments so amusing and not so irritating?
She laughs to hide the remnants of her tears, of how her face still sparks from his touch, of the things she saw within her dream. She laughs in the hope that now she will not awaken to Ardbert’s concerned and all too understanding face as he brings her back from the grasp of nightmares. Now that she has seen this city as best she can for herself, now—
Now, perhaps, she will stop dreaming of it and forgetting the details come waking. She will make do with this painted image of a civilization long gone and forgotten, known only now to her alone. Perhaps she’ll think of it at times and mourn the ones who came before, who did everything they could for the ones who came after; and not for the Ascians, who work so hard to undo all that time and history have wrought.
When she finally stops laughing, Emet-Selch is still gazing at her. There is an unreadable look on his face, and she does not dare contemplate it further. There is the first sense of—not quite peace, but of armistice between them. She finds she does not want to break it, and asking further questions, seeking out his company even further—
It is not a path she wishes to take. After everything his kind have done to her and hers, she will not follow him further down into his hole of despair and desire. The Warrior of Light, joining hands with the Ascians to reclaim and rebuild their perfect, everlasting world?
The smile still lingering on her face trembles.
No, she thinks. That is not a story written of heroes.
And she is, always, for others—
A hero.
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darthsuki · 5 years
Text
So, I managed to get my butt kicked off the servers just as I unlocked what I believe is the second-to-last duty of Shadowbringers. Now that I’m left to fervently deny the option of sleep, I instead shall take the time to ramble on about all of the characters (new and old) this new expansion has made me love, interested in, and/or just very deeply want to write about
and I’ll likely add to it as I finish sidequests...and when it isn’t almost 4 a.m.
As to be expected, this list is riddled with spoilers for the entirety of Shadowbringers, so read on at your own peril!
it’s also riddled with thirst because of course, this is me we’re talking about
Kee-Satt - A wholesome Miqo’te boy found in Amh Araeng who cares a damn lot about his community. You meet him in one of the Aethercurrent quests, but I was curious enough to keep going for a bit afterwards and I’m happy I did! He just wants to get the materials to make a really useful metal, but he’s dealing with some intense discrimination since he’s the only Miqo’te among Hrothgar in the town (the others left for Eulmore at some point). He apparently has the cold shoulder for literally everyone but the WoL/D and confides his hopes and dreams to make his town better and safer with this ore he’s trying to find and I just love him.
Kai-Shirr - You meet him early-on in the MSQ while in Eulmore and I just...he’s got a cute face, a cute voice, and damn if I almost fucking lost my shit when I thought he was going to die. He was so desperate to be with his friends and I am forever sad that he at some point had to accept the fact that those friends were dead and like, I worry for him. Does he have any family? Anyone?? Please Kai-Shirr for the love of god tell me you’re doing alright let me help you.
Moren - The historian? Librarian? of the Crystarium that you meet early in the MSQ. He is a total dork and I have a total softspot for cuties like him. 10/10 would protect at all times, 10/10 would have him recite all sorts of stories from the First just so I could hear his soft voice more. Perhaps hear his voice in more ways than one.
Quinfort / Valan - Two adorable dorks that are part of an Aethercurrent quest in the Rat’Tika Greatwoods, though there is certainly more content of them afterwards in the sidequest chain. Definitely seem like close friends, Valan is the pragmatic to Quinfort’s exuberance and tbh I’d date both of them.
Chai-Nuzz / Dulia-Chai - A married Miqo’te couple who you meet early on in the MSQ. For a while I thought I was going to loathe them since at first I thought they were going to be written super shallowly, as one might expect from how Eulmore residents were at first glance. They get a bit of growth during the MSQ and, honestly, I love them both--they have the most adorable relationship that’s pretty damn supportive of one another and!! Dulia-Chai is a fat female character that isn’t!! Played off!! Like a joke!! She’s sweet and funny and super encouraging to her husband Chai-Nuzz. 10/10 would date them and I’m not afraid to say it. Let me date these two Square Enix, I swear to god.
Lue-Reeq - He is one of the four or five role quest NPCs in Shadowbringers, specifically for ranged DPS characters. I really enjoyed learning about him, honestly--he’s the child of a rich couple of Eulmore and by god does it show. He’s a bit spoiled at the beginning of the quest and a fair bit naive, but he was never really rude--a young man who had some self-confidence issues that he hid by tossing money around to try and buy friendship from people. It certainly didn’t help that I was playing as Khalja at that point in the game (who is my only top OC to date) and I wanted so bad to just fuck this soft Miqo’te man right out in the middle of the fucking forest after I finished the last battle of the questline.
Ardbert - This man has been through so much shit. He deserves a hug and, if it were me, more than a hug, but spectral kinky times aside I adored that I got to see so much more of his history and connections with the people of the First. The friendship that he shares with the WoL/D by the end of the MSQ is super heartwarming. I honestly think I’d have his whole team on this list if I had the time to go through the multiple role questlines that give you more insight to each of them
Solus [Emet-Selch] - Hello yes I’m too busy crying in the corner for commentary. Jk, but for real the amount of lore we got for the Ascians and their world and the new perspective of all the game’s evens we gained from that was...humbling, to say the least. It’s like, I still gotta kick your ass, but I sympathize with the heavy weight of pain and loss that you’ve been carrying with you for literal eons. A good example of a sympathetic villain. 10/10 would entertain a whole AU where somehow Emet-Selch is convinced to not do the thing, and/or maybe even indulge in a lil cliche concept of him falling in love with someone in the Source, like, for realsies, and eventually coming to terms with the fact that he will never get back the world and people he’s lost so long ago--might as well protect the people in the here and now.
Crystal Exarch [G’raha Tia] - I contemplated just putting a string of ‘aaa’ in here, but I figured it wouldn’t exactly communicate the sweet vindication I felt when I saw that hood get blown off to reveal his face in that absolutely beautiful cutscene. It was fucking cinematic, I fucking almost bawled. There is so much depth and literal years of stuff to wade through because, well, G’raha Tia is fucking alive and he’s over 100 years old and he’s been waiting all of those years for you. I watched those cutscenes, I read that dialogue, he’s so fucking in love with you and holy fuck do I absolutely reciprocate those feelings. 
Innocence - I want you to take everything you know and trust about the universe and just toss it straight out of the window, because that’s what happened exactly at the second phase of the Crown of the Immaculate trial. My love for this character, whom I am considering as entirely separate from Vauthry for the sake of my own sanity, is largely based on aesthetics because....he is.....Big Sexy..... Look, I’m content with having an AU to have my attraction and writing make sense with him.
Thancred - More like Dadcred amiright? But for real, no, Thancred had a lot of emotional healing and growing through this expansion and I fucking loved it. His acceptance of Minfilia’s passing in the end, his naming of Ryne, how the two of them bonded as parent and child...it just brings a tear to my eyes. Also he is fucking hot as a gunbreaker.
Urianger - I’m not sure if it’s because Urianger really had an opportunity to shine with the Pixie quests/Il Mheg area, or if it’s because he totally rocks his new astrologian class, but he is just 10/10 in this expansion. Maybe it’s because he stopped wearing the goddamn eAR COZIES
Zenos - He has become Ultimate Yandere(tm) now. And, gods above, if that’s not one of my most guilty-pleasure Things(tm) to work with in fiction. He was in the game for maybe 10 on-screen minutes at MOST and yet he spawned so many damned ideas I can use.
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canalstreetbaker · 4 years
Text
Prompt #30: Darkness
@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast
I could probably write a book on this scene.  Or at least a third of a book.
Go on and save yourself for someone else.
---
Everything hurt. 
Above her, a twinkling blanket of lights glittered in the yawning void.  Smoking balls of earth and flame descended as if called into being by providence, lazily falling to the sphere below.
Home.  
To hear Emet-Selch describe it, the things C’arliani Khilo was experiencing were portions of the Doom of Amaurot, when the laws of reality became warped and the Star itself decided it would wipe itself clean of the masters of Creation.
These, of course, were things she already knew.  
The Miqo’te lay on her back, staring upward.  The blast from Emet-Selch’s magic had torn open an earlier wound and she could feel her life’s blood ebbing from a new rent in her body - contained, as it was, by her armor.  The rest of the Scions were down, but Holuikhan was making her way towards the Ascian.
Step.  By agonizing.  Step.
It’s nearly time, a voice said.
Indeed, said another.  It is time for our part to be played.
In the periphery of C’arliani’s vision, she could see three sets of feet.  One passed her by, the Hyur they belonged to giving her the barest of nods as he walked to the Xaela who was collapsed in a heap, the Light she had absorbed from the First trying to break free.  Without assistance, she would clearly fail.
She won’t fail, the voice said.
C’arliani could feel her breath catch in her lungs as Fray helped her up.  Shattoto lent her cane - and her power - and the Miqo’te could feel her pains subside.  
“Are we certain?” she asked.
“Yes,” Fray said.  “You know what we must do.”
---
To the Hurricane, the stillness of the Doom of Amaurot was anathema.  
To her empty palm, the grit of dirt and crystal prevented the flow of aether to her chakra.  The slick earth prevented her feet from finding purpose.  
To her sight, the Light that she had been tricked into taking, the Blessing-Yet-Curse that had been delivered to her - blinded her.  
Holuikhan collapsed.  The collective efforts of the Scions had met with failure as their impassioned pleas for survival - coupled with their efforts, as they were - came to naught.  The Ascian would have his due, and for the sins of another this lone Xaela would bring a second Doom to the First - and perhaps to the Steppes from whence she came.  
Such thoughts were enough to fill her with rage, but her body - broken, Light-swollen as it was - betrayed her at every moment.  The saccharine taste of pure Light-aspected aether caused her to choke, filling her sinuses with mucous the consistency of honey inexplicably gone rancid.
And yet, as she lie there with her vision turning white, Holuikhan saw a familiar pair of feet.
Ardbert had returned.  The Shade of the First.had stood next to Holuikhan as she spat up pure, concentrated Light and asked the simplest of questions.
If you could take another step and save this world, would you do it?
“What could I say but yes?” Holui said.
Then let us do this together.
A blinding flash enveloped the Xaela, blinding all who beheld it.  
---
C’arliani took step after confident step towards the Ascian and the Warrior of Light, strength flowing back into her limbs as the shadows of her soul fed her the aether required to remain alive.  There was enough of it in the air, after all - and Light-aspected aether was ideal for keeping things in stasis.
Things such as wounds, for example.  
She stood next to Holuikhan as the Xaela closed her eyes and dropped into the most basic of unarmed stances.  Around her, the Light swelled and twisted, forming great clouds of pure energy.
The Hurricane had come to Amaurot, and Holuikhan Borlaaq was its Eye.
“You yet stand,” she said, eyes still closed.  Ardbert’s focus had given her a keen insight as to the workings of the aether within her, and while it took all of her focus to twist it, the Xaela could see beyond her sight.
Emet-Selch would not take this lying down.
“I do,” C’arliani replied, shouldering her battle-scarred blade.  “What do you need from me?”
“Can you keep him in place for six heartbeats?” Holuikhan asked.
“If you aim for his heart,” C’arliani said, “Yes.  I will give you six heartbeats.”
Holuikhan nodded.  “I will remember this.”
---
Hades was furious.  These upstart things had bested his memories of the Doom.  His friend was a split, shattered thing - and the one beside her was no better! He had shot the one when he took the Exarch, but the cat.  Yet.  Stood.
Even now, as he looked at them both, the spot of darkness and the point of light conmingled, shifting into one and then the other.  Yet, even as he looked, he could see the darkness step forth, formless void taking shape into-
“No,” he spat, horrified.  “It couldn’t be you!”
“Hello again,” C’arliani said, letting her blade fall to the earth.  “Old friend.”
“I can’t believe it!” Emet-Selch thundered.  “I shan’t believe it!”
“Allow me to disappoint you,” the Miqo’te replied, and she moved with a speed unlike anyone considered mortal.
---
While nether one of them held weapons, the Ascian and the Miqo’te battled as if they were heavily armed.  They moved and weaved, seeking and exploiting weaknesses, only to be blocked away as either grew close.  
This will not do, C’arliani thought.  It is time.
“How does it feel,” she asked as she parried another blow, “To murder your old friend?”
“How dare you!” was the response.  “You are nothing!  She died before the very thought of your species’ existence was a speck of imagination!”
“And what will you do about it?” she asked.  “Hades, who carries the false memories of millions?  Hades, who failed?”
There was no response but rage.  Darkness swelled around the two as the Ascian grew two, three, five times in size.  Bare hands grew to claws that grasped for C’arliani, slashed at her, pulled at the armor, and crushed.
Ah. There.
With a burst of energy from a failing body, the Miqo’te slipped through, bursting past the Ascian’s guard, her own arms slipping through the unholy form to find the being underneath.  From the outside, all one could see was a glimmer of light in a swell of pitch black.
It was the only signal Holuikhan required, and with a step, reality shifted.
---
Time slowed to a crawl.  
C’arliani came face-to-face with Hades, eyes locked.  Blood dribbling from wounds too terrible to mention, she could only smile with bloodstained lips, tears crinkling from mismatched eyes.
“Listen to my voice,” she said.
"What is this?” Hades asked.  
“Listen to our heartbeats,” she whispered.
What?  What are you doing? came the response inside.
“Listen,” C’arliani said with a smile as the Light swelled within and without.
Holuikhan Borlaaq’s fist met with flesh, and then passed through.  Augmented with the full Light absorbed from a world out of balance, the energy was forced into a single point, penetrating two beings out of time.
“I forgive you,” she told Hades.
“I forgive you,” she told Hydaelyn.
“I forgive you,” she told herself.
In Hades’ eyes, there was understanding.  And, perhaps, relief.
Light filled C’arliani Khilo, and in those moments she thought of the place her heart called home.
---
A woman appeared on a snowy bluff overlooking the towering spires of Ishgard.  Crafted as if by the Lifestream itself, she was clad in naught but thick hooded robes, though the hood itself was pushed back to let russet hair and furry ears blow in the chilling winds.
Alighting upon the snow, she made her way to the bluff’s edge where an Elezen man sat, gazing in serene wonder at the spires below.  With an exhausted sigh, the woman flopped to a seat next to him, and worked an arm around his waist.
“I’m home,” C’arliani Khilo said.
“The things you do to be remembered,” Haurchefant Greystone said with a smile. “Will you be staying long?”
“I have all the time in the world,” she replied.  
Both sat upon the edge of the bluff, locked in each other’s arms, while behind them were a pair of gravestones, their script long faded.  All that remained, preserved as if by the will of the star itself, was a shield broken by lance. 
And a leather-bound tome of poetry, author unknown.
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starblood · 4 years
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headcanon: survivor’s guilt
               if you ever ask xel what her biggest regrets are, you may be greeted with a moment of silence as she considers. after all, she has many, many regrets, ranging from the monetary to the emotional to the fact that she hasn’t seen her family in a fairly long time. she writes home every now and then, of course, but with how busy she has become, it has grown rarer and rarer. she still tries to send out a letter every week or so, tries, but seldom succeeds anymore. but that is not her biggest regret.
                 in truth, her biggest regret is being a survivor where so many of her friends have fallen in her journey. it began when the coup in ul’dah took place and she found herself fleeing for her life to ishgard. being unable to help her friends escape and not knowing if they were alive or not haunted her profoundly for quite some time. in ishgard, she found herself adopted as a ward of house fortemps, leaving her to travel the city and grow intermingled with the politics at hand. one can say it was ishgard that truly began xel’s understanding of politics, the moves by the great houses catching her attention and leaving her a keen student to try and comprehend what it was she was seeing there. while politics was not something she ever enjoyed, xel knew that to survive, she likely had to learn about such things. she had a capable friend in aymeric and haurchefant both to guide her in such subtleties and it was with their help, ysayle’s help, and estinien’s, that the secrets of the dragonsong war began to unravel for her. 
                 it was at the vault, however, where survivor’s guilt began to manifest for her. they went to stop thordan, make the attempt, and haurchefant took a blow meant for her. xel remembers well the grip she kept on his hand, the words he spoke ( “a smile better suits a hero.” ), and the loss of her friend all too keenly. she remembers how she smiled for him in his last moments. and she remembers how she wept later, only for her to push her tears away when she saw the grief from aymeric. the one thing about xel that she learned over her journey was that she could cry later. others need her more. but alas, that was not the last of it. knowing that aymeric was wounded also gave her regrets anew ( “if only i was faster, if only i was stronger, if only i was--” ) that still haunt her now.
                 months later came the fight upon the bridge as they pushed back against the griffin, months after she learned of moenbryda’s sacrifice to bring the matter of white auracite to her attention, another great loss took her. she had to save one friend at the cost of another’s life and xel was forced to watch as papalymo spent his life to save theirs -- and how he threw her onto the ship when she insisted on staying with him; she would have spent her life to help him. another friend had fallen and that drew a not-healed-over pain back to her. her tears did not fall so easily that time and so she threw herself into her work in those regions with fierce alacrity, only to find herself unexpectedly tangled with zenos. the sight of so many lost at rhalgr’s reach did not help. so she found herself facing him time and time again.
                 and he came to call her friend as well, friend -- and yet she witnessed that end in the menagerie. to see zenos cut himself down? it wrenched something in xel’s heart. it inspired an odd sort of grief. she was one of those whom protected his body against desecration before his burial and xel spent long hours simply studying his face, trying to understand why it would cause grief at all. but it was not for her to say. 
                 events continued onwards and then her friends began to collapse, one by one, out of the blue. the cause was unknown, the migraines caused by a voice reaching out to her, by a soul seeking out to touch her own, and xel felt absolutely helpless as she saw them all falling into that comatose state. it was the worst of timing for they were all prepared to face elidibus in his guise of zeno’s body and that set a certain sense of violation in place for her. had it not been for estinien, she would have perished. more of that guilt piled on when she wondered about her friends, wondering if they were aright, and then, at last -- she arrived in norvrandt by way of the exarch summoning her to that place. xel felt a new guilt in being there, yet she was for the time stuck -- and she found herself connecting with another whom she had not thought to see again.
                 the exarch implored for her aid in saving that world and, with no better option left to her, she agreed. she went in search of alisaie first and met tesleen, but that was but another stone upon the pile of guilt she carried when she saw what happened to her. but there was no time to grieve. they had too much to do. too much to focus on. another moment came when she thought y’shtola had perished once more, and even though there was talk of the Flow, it worried xel for what would that do to her friend? had it not been for emet-selch, they would never have found her again. and xel was grateful to him for that. 
                 and then ... there was emet-selch himself. solus. hades. the building of Light in xel left her crippled and ryne saved her, if only just, just enough to keep going. to keep functioning. she had talked with him several times, taking what knowledge he offered, even if she did not trust him at first. there wasn’t much there -- and after the events on mount gulg, xel had no idea of what to make of his behavior or the exarch’s. she nearly thrust her friends away from herself ( and she knew she was going to give urianger a terrific what for when the time came for it. ) out of anger and frustration and pain - for the Light contained within hurt more than she could say. how could something be so painful? but it was to emet-selch they went and it was the vision of amaurot they found and she found her heart breaking anew. 
                 at that final confrontation, she tried her best to protect her friends. she tried. the light threatened to overwhelm her and it was with ardbert’s help that she managed that final step. ( “if you could take one more step, to save both our worlds ... would you?” ) but it was what came after, in seeing that smile of acceptance and what she would almost have called peace upon hades’ face that broke her heart. her friends were alive, and she knew that she despised the ascians for what they had done -- but that did not stop her from the grief she felt for taking everything he had seen and held and felt for so long and ending it.
                   so it is that if you ever ask xel of her regrets, she is not likely to speak of those she has lost, those she could not save -- but there may be that look of a quiet grief in her eyes, a sadness to her smile, before she answers with something flippant. after all...
                   a smile better suits a hero.
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dholwrites · 5 years
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Omg I just finished the full ShB storyline and it was a ride. I was wondering if you could give us a breakdown of your reactions to the story and what your general thoughts are?
General reaction:
There are so many moments throughout the story that had me so emotionally invested that I often would need to have a moment to look away to not cry. I cried so many times throughout the entire expansion, I could barely keep myself together.
THERE’S SO MUCH LORE AND SO MUCH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. I shed tears at least 10 times over the course of the story.
Crystal Exarch, do you really think that hiding your eyes and hair will allow you to escape me? That actually brings me to something that was I had talked to my boyfriend about at the end of the game.
We got into a disagreement about the Crystal Exarch, there’s plenty of evidence on both sides. One is that this G’raha isn’t ours. As in, this G’raha is possibly descendant of the one that we actually know. When they absorbed themselves into the Crystal Tower, they likely also absorbed G’raha’s appearance and memories but it’s not really their own. The other side says that this G’raha is ours. He had become one with the Crystal Tower and is now just really old.
There’s a lot more evidence towards the latter in my opinion but it’s really up to the player to interpret what we are given to decide what is really happening.
They did Urianger so well with the costume change. Thancred is back to being clean-shaven. Y’shtola still cute AF.
I will admit, it’s strange that the game is actually having us rest in between missions. Then again, we need to retire back to our room so that we could have more interactions with Ardbert. The characters seem more keen on ensuring that the WoL/D is actually getting rest. In previous expansions, it seems to be that they have never really paid a lot of attention before on whether or not their champion is resting. Now it seems that the Scion’s are making sure that they’re actually resting.
It’s not the only thing that has changed either. I think it’s partially due to the new writer, it seems that the Scion’s have become closer. They banter between each other, throw jokes, even call each other out their bullshit (specifically Thancred, but those moments between Urianger and Sthola matters too.) The characters felt so much more alive now.
We’re seeing more things about the characters too! So much character development and details we get to see:
Urianger has a love for fairy tales.
Y’shtola’s thirst for knowledge and her desire to prove herself.
Ryne’s growth from constantly doubting herself into someone who is taking her fate into her own hands.
Thancred finally maturing over the lost of Minfilia and becoming better of a person.  
Ardbert rising above his doubts of himself
The moment of break we had with the Crystal Exarch was both heartbreaking and warming for me. Does anyone else notice that he asked what we plan to do after all this? It reminds me of our dinner with Aymeric, when he asked us what we want to do in the future. What we, as a person, want to do. I believe that the implications are the same. They wish to travel with us to faraway lands, experience things with us, be adventurers with us.
However, it’s a dream beyond their reach.
Emet-Selch is an interesting character (one I consider writing in the future). Truthfully, he’s neither good nor evil. He is willing to give us all the information we would need if we asked and even offered us a private space when we are close to transforming into a Sin-Eater. He’s our complete opposite. Champion for the will of Zodiark, while we are Champion of Hydaelyn. I’m joining the train that there is a chance that we were once someone important to Emet, someone dear that was lost when Hydaelyn split Zodiark.
On the side note, perhaps it was just my character. But after every dungeon and trial, my character looked almost sad. As if she knew the fate that would befall her.
Overall, I love the story!
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