#this takes place around the tail-end of Heavensward

[voidsentprinces]

Think I dislike Stormblood because it gets off on the wrong foot with me. My suspension of disbelief is ruined by Zenos particularly. We fought multiple power primals and wyrms of the First Brood but somehow this one dude waltzes in and is stronger than us. Plus the padding. We cannot save Ala Mhigo now or the story will be over lets go to Doma to save it now back to Ala Mhigo where we got full on movies of cutscenes between various dialogues until finally we reach the end of the weirdest utilized zone of the Lochs. And Doma who went to save so we could get aid with the liberation doesn't show up til the last minute. Then the post Stormblood dances between Gyr Albania and the Far East but feels like it doesn't know what its doing. Until the narrative throws its hand up and is like alright War at a stalemate, your friends are spirited away. Lets move onto Shadowbringers. To this day Stormblood feels like two half ideas glued together and is lesser for it somehow.

So, suspension of disbelief broken, rough pacing, ill use of well talked about lands, a very very weirdly placed last third, and the second third being called into question when we only see the results at literally the tail end. Meandering around for a Post-Patch before the narrative seems to want to wash its hands of the experience and take us to another world instead. Which feels exactly like entering Heavensward which felt like we were starting on a blank slate from the bloat and meandering of ARR. Its like I can FEEL the brick wall of writing being hit in Stormblood's various juggling narratives. While trying to string along uprising, revolution and the breaking the chains of tyranny. But it also feels like no even Garlemald wants to be in Ala Mhigo or Doma as much as both states people want them there.

And then Zenos pretty much sits around for the entire narrative. Until the...very quoteable but lackluster final instanced battle of Endwalker. After he's been dangled as a carrot in front of us for two whole expansions and like one in half post patch cycles.

A Realm Reborn and Stormblood feel ROUGH to me.

While Heavensward feels like gliding across a smooth bed. Shadowbringers has a couple bumps in its bed labeled "Ran'jit" but otherwise feels like a nice smooth experience too. Endwalker...I dunno. Over time I feel less and less enamored with it. It also feels like the first two thirds are meant to be climaxes to Post-Patches but like...form Elpis onward is the actual expansion somehow.

Wonder what Dawntrail will feel like.

[last-flight-of-fancy]

Backstory exploration time for WoL~

WoL: Hallima, he/they Au Ra

Timeline: Heavensward up to Dark Knight Level 50 (Wages of Mercy)

Hallima thought he was some sort of mutation his whole life. There might be some trauma around that.

Hallima was an orphan.

Well, he is an orphan. It's not like this fact has changed- he may have gained some troublesome pseudo-siblings recently, but the fact remains that Hallima spent a great deal of his life until recently hopping from town to town taking odd jobs from whoever would hire him to get by.

He considers himself lucky, in a way. He's hardier than the average eorzean, covered in scales and thick skin, and most illnesses seem to pass him by. It offered him advantages most wandering urchin's simply don't have. That said however, he is not immune to things like exhaustion and hunger, and it was not without the ocassional helping hand that he had made it to adulthood.

He considers himself lucky to have made it to adulthood at all.

People rarely ask him about his past, a fact he is quietly grateful for. The calamity had rendered so many with lost loved ones that it has become considered somewhat gouche to ask after such things unless needed. Perhaps that's why it surprised him so much when Alphinaud- prim, proper, polite, Alphinaud- had done exactly that late one night as they rested in the Fortemps residence.

"Does anyone worry for you?" He asks, laying on his back in his cot and staring at the darkned ceilings. Hallima looks up from the weapon he's doing some maintenance on, lit by only a dim candle on a nearby table.

"Why?" A practiced evasion, though it feels somewhat wrong to use on Alphinaud in particular. To say he's come to care about the kid would be something of an understatement.

"Ah, that was rude, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I just... started thinking about Alisaie and wondering what she's doing... if the Crystal Braves had targeted her too..."

Hallima hums softly to indicate he's listening. A thought spiral, common to these sorts of late hours, and considering everything that has happened... He gets it.

"Then I wondered if she worries for us in turn... And then I realised how silly that was. She sent the carraige for us, of course she worries. Not that she would admit it, mind."

That tracks from what Hallima has seen of the girl. Stubborn and independant, but fiercly loyal besides. He's met the type before.

"Anyroad, the thought crossed my mind and it left my mouth before I could consider it. Forgive me."

"It's fine." The darkness within writhes at the lie, but is mollified with a glance towards Alphinaud's contrition, mixed with his own fear and anxiety hidden just beneath the surface. "... No. No one worries for me."

"I see." Alphinaud sits up then, and the candlelight makes the bags under his eyes all the more distinct, but it does not lessen the earnestness of his gaze. "Well. You may increase that number by at least one."

Hallima doesn't really know how to react in the face of Alphinaud's sincerity, so he gives a generic smile and a thank you before encouraging the boy to try and sleep once more. It's only after Alphinaud's breathing slows into a steady snore that Hallima smothers the candle with a bare hand and lets the mask drop.

-

Hallima grew up thinking he was some form of monster with ideas above its station. Or perhaps a Mi'quote who's fur turned hard and rough instead of soft and downy. Or any number of things that might occur to a child who has never met anyone quite like them. By the time he hit adulthood, Hallima thought that he had come to terms with the reality that he would probably never know.

And then he'd met Yugiri, who kept her face covered at all times, but there was no mistaking the rough texture of her tail or the shape of things beneath her hood which are too stiff and improperly placed to be even the strangest of mi'quote ears.

Hallima had not asked.

She had stared at him, long and hard, and in the end she hadn't asked either.

(or maybe she had, in her own surreptious way. She was an expert ninja and infiltrator after all)

Why hadn't Hallima asked, despite his suspicions? He's still not sure.

He can imagine the scoffing his companions would give if he told them it was fear.

He has no other words for it, though.

-

Hallima looks into Fray's face- their face- and feels at once rage and grief. His face, their face, and one both familiar and not. It tugs at memories long buried, and Hallima doesn't want them.

Reality has never cared much for such things, however.

Fray- or rather, Esteem- falls defeated, and two become one once more.

-

Hallima's earliest memories are of horrible, biting cold and numb fingers that he cannot bend.

-

There's no time for that, not with the war between Ishgard and the Dragons looming ever present.

-

Midgardsormer had called them kin.

-

Meeting Sidurgu was like looking into an inverted mirror, and after their experiance with Esteem there is an undeniable moment where Hallima is sure that their other has somehow made their own form somehow.

This is not the case.

Sidurgu asks their help with Rielle -the girl soft and familiar in ways that Hallima can't quite pinpoint- and they quickly agree. They see the bond between the two easily, one simultaneously fireforged and silk-web delicate, and want to protect it.

(They do not say this. Sidurgu would probably hate the sentiment. but still the sentiment remains).

But then Sidurgu tells them of his people's arrival in Ishgard, fleeing the Empire and seeking refuge, only to be cut down by fearful Ishgardians who assumed them in league with the dragons.

"Everyone." Sidurgu stresses. "Man, woman, child. None escaped the slaughter."

Hallima's earliest memories are of freezing cold, staggering through snow drifts and desperately alone.

They do not ask.

[thelaughtercafe]

FFXIV Elf Boys + Thancred finding out you're ticklish*

Tea Type: Rose Boba

Potential Triggers: Some suggestive mentions of twording causing an aroused response aluded to for both Reader and Estinien!

Pairing: Thancred/F! Reader, Estinien/F! Reader, Haurchefant/F! Reader, Alphinaud/F! Reader (platonic), Aymeric/F! Reader

Length: 4k+

Summary: N/A

A/N: For those that are curious Thancred’s and Alphinaud’s take place in A Realm Reborn and Haurchefant, Aymeric and Estinien’s all take place within Heavensward! 

Please do offer feedback if you know the characters; no-one else had done any tword based stuff for FFXIV really yet so I decided to be the first lmao. 

Hope you enjoy, and forgive the Estinien focus towards the end- I just really enjoyed how cool it was that they all flowed into one another. 

Thancred Waters:

One word for Thancred as a Ler: mean. 

He’s super mean with teases, and how he tickles; his poor Lee is never safe. 

First off how he finds out. 

A squeeze meant to scare you from behind is what makes him catch on. You squeal and give a violent jerk in his arms. When he tightens his grip in an attempt to steady you, and opens his mouth to reassure you it’s just him, fearing he scared you too well, you instead laugh and squirm more in his arms. 

“Th-Thahahancrhehehed!! Cut it ohohohout!”

From then on the poor man is smitten with your laughter and tickling you to bring it forth.

Hearing his name fall from your lips in joyful mirth is just too addictive, unfortunately for your ticklish nerves. 

The perks of Thancred’s roguish upbringing gave him a knack for staying in the shadows. He mainly saved his tricks for unsuspecting enemies. 

Yet he found immense comfort somehow even more infectious than his name falling from your lips in turning his skills which had originally only seen use for espionage and death into something that could bring mischief and laughter. 

Therefore, expect to be tickled constantly. He’s such a brat about it too, popping up at the most inopportune times just to make you mess up. 

He relishes in the way your cheeks flame when you stutter as he innocently blows in your ear on his way past while you’re talking to the grand company leaders

Bribes Alphinaud to have you look after his clingy Carbuncle for a full week, (knowing full well the creature adored lounging around on necks like a bright blue scarf that you couldn’t get rid of, tail swishing happily and no doubt tickling maddeningly wherever it brushed.)

He also, of course gets into a heated debate with Yda on who can make you laugh the hardest. 

You try to run and he admits, it’s adorable that you tried. He wins, by the way. He always does. 

Alphinaud Leveilleur:

He finds out thanks to the Carbuncle incident from Thancred. Twelve above, was it embarrassing but at least he was kind about the whole thing. 

When you come back to return his Carbuncle but 2 days into the week you burst into his room trembling with his beloved eikon around your neck and at first, he worries about your health. 

Until your shaking smile crumbles into giggles you desperately try to stifle in your hand as you bend in two, no doubt mortified. A surprised look graces his face before he smiles softly. He watches you giggle and squirm, desperate not to harm his pet as you hug yourself tightly around the middle, not out of any sense of malice, but pure fondness before he raises his fingers to his lips and whistles. 

Immediately, his naughty Refia perks up and hops over to his shoulder instead, standing on her front legs and decidedly not tickling Alphinaud to death as she had you.  

You pout a little at the realization as you come back to yourself and hear Alphinaud scolding his summon, giggles gradually dying down. 

Even scolding his tone is gentle, and he scratches her chin adoringly. 

“Naughty girl. I know you know better than to toy with people so carelessly! Who put you up to this?”

He listened to Refia chirp and chatter quietly and then sighed. 

“Of course it was Thancred. Cheeky bastard…kupo nuts was it? Hmph.”

He turns to you with an apologetic smile on his lips. 

“Seems my girl has caused you quite a bit of mischief. My apologies. Truth be told, Thancred said you’d be overjoyed to look after Refia…I merely assumed you wished for companionship but clearly he meant to inflict quite a different type of joy. That man is slippery as an eel when he wants to be.”

You blushed and averted your eyes shuffling back and forth on your feet in a way that made him hold back a coo. He understood why Thancred was so smitten, surely. 

“I intend to absolutely end him later.”

Seeing your embarrassment but also the giddy smile tugging at your lips Alphinaud quickly put two and two together and his eyes gained a very different glint as he casually approached.  

“Well, if you’d like to borrow Refia here for some payback; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

It hits you as you turn to face him again that Alphinaud had drawn closer and your smile widened in nervousness as you shyly backed up against the door. 

“Of course; I think maybe hearing some of your adorable laughter for myself would be a good trade off…don’t you?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief and he wiggled his fingers at you, laughing as you turned bright red and then bolted. 

Fine, he’d catch you later. He had a long memory after all. One that would later get you into some trouble. 

Estinien Wyrmblood:

Estinien is nothing if not perceptive. He prides himself on it. The lack of others being able to see his expression, hidden beneath his Dragoon armor ensures he always somewhat has the upper hand in social situations. 

Which was good, given he struggled mightily with them. 

Nidhogg’s influence was a constant, open wound that throbbed at the slightest amount of anger he allowed himself to vent. Better to remain as stoic as possible, to stem the monster’s control as best he was able. 

He found teasing Alphinaud to be too simple, really. He got riled so easily, and trailed after you like a baby chick. When Estinien offhandedly mentioned surely knowing more about the Warrior of Light, the boy’s cheeks puffed up and reddened and he blurted out some very interesting information indeed after a back and forth. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I bet you didn’t know she was ticklish!!”

There was silence for a moment and then Alphinaud was no longer the only one red. You’d buried your mortified face in your hands before trying to appear strong and shooting a half hearted glare, more nervous than threatening his way and Ysayle’s. 

“Try it and I’ll end you!”

Estinien hummed in acknowledgement, still leaning casually against the tree. He propped his leg up and when you flinched his smirk widened enough to be seen from underneath his mask. 

“Somehow I doubt that. Be careful such information does not fall into the wrong hands. ‘Twould be a shame for the fabled Warrior of Light to meet her end being tickled to death.”

His words made both Alphinaud and Ysayle laugh uproariously and you turned a beautiful shade of ruby red. How endearing.

“D-Don’t be mean.”

Ysayle nudged you playfully. 

“Oh come now. You laugh with me at Alphinaud’s flustered reactions at Estinien’s taunts yet can’t take it yourself? I find myself surprised by how much more adorable you become by the second.”

“Ysayle! Not you too-”

“Oh you were laughing at me, were you?”

Alphinaud cut you off, tackling you playfully and wrestling with you as you both fought for the upper hand. 

Estinien watched the tussle in amusement and noted with great interest as you didn’t fight back nearly as hard as you could, quickly left to squirm lightly as the boy pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you.  

“Why don’t I give you something to laugh about instead if you’re so eager hm?”

“Alphie c'mon we can talk about-" 

Your voice was tinged with nervous energy but Estinien swore he picked up on a twinge of excitement just underneath your words. 

”Alphie? Oh my-“

Ysayle cut herself off as she turned away and Estinien quickly had to clamp down on the grin that burst across his lips as she stifled a squeal into her hand, clearly no less than smitten while he snickered openly at the new nickname he pocketed away. 

Alphinaud, for his credit was white in contrast to your red and you were now appearing to genuinely struggle as you pleaded. 

"Oh by the Twelve-I swear I didn’t-”

Estinien could sense the boy’s intentions from his aura alone, if the sadistic smirk on his face wasn’t enough, and snickered coolly, clicking his tongue at you.  

“Tsk tsk tsk. Quite the mistake you’ve made. Seems you’ve put dear Alphie in quite the mood for payback while you’re quite helpless. Hm. A shame no-one appears to wish to offer you aid. If only there were heroes around to offer you the assistance you give to them so freely. A pity.”

Alphinaud snickered darkly as he leaned down to nuzzle into your neck making you swallow nervously. 

“I remember exactly how ticklish this area is. Between my strategy, Ysayle’s nimble fingers and Estinien’s mocking, I wonder how long the great Warrior of Light can last. Shall we find out, my friend? I’ll be optimistic, and vote an hour, if only for my own eagerness.”

You shuddered, opening your mouth to protest but Ysayle had been happy to take Alphinaud up on his offer and began scribbling into your sides, teasing you playfully the whole way and making you blush madly at her coos and compliments.

Ysayle halved Alphinaud’s time, proclaiming you’d surely last 30 minutes.

Estinien was somehow worse than both combined. He claimed you’d only last 15 minutes total, after letting the other two work in silence for 5 minutes and then the Azure Dragoon couldn’t stop talking. 

The teases mixed with degradation on your strength being laid so low by mere tickling was Hell.

 He was merciless. You’d never seen him so invested in anything less than a battle.

By the time he’s bent down to hiss into your ear, voice lowered an octave you had tears blurring your vision. What finally broke you entirely was his final tease in your ear, along with the scrape of- oh by the Twelve- sharpened teeth on your earlobe. 

“You’re not struggling very hard for the supposed mighty Warrior of Light. Seems to me you like this. Do you not?”

His teeth met your ear, voice a primal growl that made you want to cower or keen or both. 

“Kitten.”

“M-Mercy Merchehehehey!”

You gasped as Alphinaud and Ysayle instantly were off you, fawning and making sure you were okay; all but shoving water down your throat and whining at how Estinien cheated somehow.

Estinien wordlessly returned to his post at the familiar tree, posing in a way that reminded you too strongly of Thancred for your liking.

You felt his eyes follow you as you prepped for sleep and you definitely didn’t stiffen when he traded posts with Ysayle and proceeded to make himself comfortable at your back. 

You couldn’t deny you were eager to soak up the warmth he offered though, and when his strong arms wrapped around your waist and you jumped with a mouselike squeal he snickered, warm breath against the back of your neck tickling you enough to make you squirm a little in his unyielding grip. He only pulled you closer in response. 

 "If I pushed you too far today, or was wrong in my assumption…tell me now.“

His voice was calm. Gentle, even. Yet you still should’ve expected it. 

When you remained silent, embarrassed at your wordless confession he was right and hadn’t pushed your boundaries making your face heat he covered your mouth before once again nibbling at your ear, this time at the top, where the cartilage was. 

It was no less hellish and you spasmed in his grip as he snarled in your ear, finally giving you relief as you whined into his hand, trying to keep quiet. 

"You’re going to wish you never told me kitten, I promise you that. Lucky or unluckily for you I don’t enjoy sharing my prey. So no more getting tickled by others-”

A rough skitter of hot fingers underneath your light armor made you squeal again. 

“Or you’ll be punished. Understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond that such a task was impossible(Thancred was a menace and if you tried to convince him to play nice surely he’d do the opposite, or even grow possessive himself in response.) as he moved his hand off your mouth and down to your waist, holding you against him protectively. 

“Good. Now sleep. We depart on the first light of the morrow.”

Haurchefant Greystone:

Bless him the energetic Elezen definitely finds out while sparring. He’s so bloody careful with you that he refuses to use weapons after accidentally injuring you. 

You’d tried to reassure him otherwise but he’s vehement, and Estinien learns not to spar with you in the open, lest mama

Haurchefant appears to challenge him instead, Aymeric typically in tow for good measure to keep the Azure Dragoon in check.

This particular sparring match was going well; you were alone meaning no Alphinaud outing you because he can’t keep his mouth shut, no Thancred to taunt you from afar or Estinien to fix you with a stare warning you to mess up and let your secret slip in his presence.  

Just you, and Haurchefant. Admittedly, you’d let your guard down, too caught up in the fight to do otherwise. 

Big mistake. 

You end up pinned beneath him, both of you panting as you catch your breath. He grins down at you, and you smile softly back, playfully teasing him.  

“Gonna let me up anytime soon, oh great winner of sparring matches~?”

He snickers fondly and moves to lean back on his feet, hovering by your legs, hands on your knees which he squeezes reassuringly. 

“You fought well, you’ve grown stronger yet still.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed you stiff as a board. 

“Are you alright? I didn’t harm you did I? I know I kicked your legs out from underneath you. Is aught amiss? You need not feign strength for my sake.”

You shook your head, quickly trying to cover as you moved to stand. 

“No nothing like that! I’m perfectly fine, you have my word. Shall we go inside?”

Haurchefant eyed you warily but nodded, moving off you to allow you to stand. You managed to make it to your feet but of course, your damn leg had to revolt against you, spasming and nearly giving out before you caught yourself on his shoulder. 

“I’m checking out your leg once inside. Even if you’re fine, spasming like that means you have too much tension. Perhaps you just need a massage.”

You mustered a nervous smile and nodded reluctantly. 

“Alright…if you insist then. As long as it’s just us.”

Haurchefant wouldn’t take advantage unlike the others. You were sure. He was like a puppy, surely he’d tease you a little but no way could he be worse than Estinien, Thancred of Alphinaud. 

He led you to his chambers, and gave you a hot drink you quickly set down. With the way you’d be jerking you didn’t want to risk hurting him or yourself. 

You braced yourself with your hands behind you, looking down nervously as he knelt beside his bed, looking amused. 

“Is aught amiss my friend?”

You shook your head, but quickly bit your lip to try and keep down the grin wanting to break across your mouth at bay. 

He hummed, fingers moving too gently along your knee as he raised your cloth to massage the bare skin. 

The second he dug in you barely swallowed a squeal and looked towards the ceiling, feeling your face flush with a blush. 

“Hmph. Definitely tense. Perhaps if I…”

Haurchefant was ignorant to the torment he was inflicting, bless his heart. His voice was soft as he talked more to himself than you. 

He dug into the back of your knee with his thumbs and you gasped, arching a little.

He stopped immediately, frowning in contemplation. 

“Look at me.”

His hand gently guided your face to meet his as you sighed in relief, recovering. He looked so worried. 

Gods you should just tell him! Rip it off like a bandaid. You could do this!

“Don’t worry it’s not you-I’m not in pain I swear! I’m just um…s-sensitive that’s all!" 

The words were squeaked out quickly but you forced yourself to meet your Elezen friend’s eyes, for fear he wouldn’t feel you were being truthful otherwise. 

He seemed to be deciphering your words and weighing their truthfulness. 

He finally opens his mouth and smiles, eyes kind. 

"Ah. So it’s a pre-existing condition then?”

You groan and fall back against the bed. 

Twelve above. 

He’s gonna make you say it, isn’t he? 

“It’s not like you’re thinking. I’m- forgive my stuttering this is a bit flustering for me but well- I’m afraid I’m t-t-”

You took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling and covering your eyes with an arm in an attempt to cover your blush as you finished in a shy mumble. 

“Ticklish. I’m just t-ticklish okay? No need to worry.”

“Ah, that’s all it is? You had me worried you were hiding injuries. Tataru informed me it was a nasty habit of yours she’d caught you doing more than once and I confess I was concerned.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but his smile was carefree now that he knew nothing was amiss. 

“Oh I-aha. Didn’t realize I was getting caught. Guess I’m in for a lecture. That’d definitely explain why she called me to the Rising Stones tonight.”

Haurchefant watched you flit around his room anxiously, now unable to stop moving until he gently caught your wrist and turned you to look at him. His unusually serious expression gave you pause.  

“You needn’t flee from me. I confess I am bewildered why your confession would fluster you so. There is nothing wrong with being ticklish. I, and many others are as well!”

You shyly looked to the side, now the one feeling shy.

“Well I just-”

There was something so soothing about Haruchefant, and you found yourself confessing before you could think better of it. 

“I like it more than most. It’s fun with friends, a good way for affection and bonding and it makes me feel cared for and loved. With a significant other I’m sure it’d be more…ah…”

You averted your gaze. 

“You catch my meaning.”

The whole time he listened intently, no judgement on his face though you saw the giant twinkle of amusement in his eyes as well. 

He gently released your wrist, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.  

“Mm. And exactly who do you have in your life that has made you realize such an act may do more than fluster you in a sexual context?”

You sputtered a moment at the bluntness and he snickered lightly. 

“Calm my friend, I hold no ill will of course and I make no assumptions. I merely mean to ask you to address this question yourself. If it helps you to talk it out with me then all’s the better, of course. I also must confess I am curious.”

You reluctantly met his eyes, scanning for honesty as you spoke next. 

“…I have your word you won’t speak of this? Not even if you perchance know them? Or run into them?”

His eyes sparkled all the more as he quickly crossed his heart, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and looking at you eagerly. 

“I vow it on my duty as a knight. Now come, don’t keep me in suspense!”

“Well, first there’s Thancred. You haven’t met him yet but he was who gave me my first inkling it was those that I was initially attracted to that I had such an primal reaction to. And while that still holds true for him the one who really awakened it was ah…”

You steeled yourself, scratching your cheek meekly and then squeaked out the one you were sure he’d react to. 

“Estinien?”

Haurchefant’s eyes were wide as dinner plates and he gasped making you rush to shh him quiet. 

“Estinien? Our Estinien? The Azure Dragoon? You’re positive?”

He was all but bouncing on the bed in his excited shock, a positively gleeful expression on his face. 

You smirked in amusement and snarked. 

“Unless you know any other Dragoons whose wit is as sharp as his armor I doubt it.”

His grin grew more mischievous in turn as he saw you relaxing around him as usual.  

“Definitely Estinien then. Oh this is too humorous I truly can’t fathom it. Estinien. Twelve grace me. Is that why you called it a primal reaction too?”

At your confused look he quickly grinned, cheekily.  

“Sorry my friend, you’ll have to ask Aymeric about any further inquiries you may have. I’d say ask Estinien, but while he’d merely shut others down; I have a feeling you’d find yourself in for the session of a lifetime. If you’re truly curious, ask him.”

Aymeric de Borel:

You tried to hold out. You swear you did. But your curiosity really needed to be sated, if only for your own sanity. 

Luckily, Aymeric had been urged by Lucia to take a break, so he was free for the rest of the day. 

“Yes, how may I help you, my dear? My apologies for the wait. It seems the paperwork never ceases flowing these days.”

You waved off his apology with a smile, sitting in the recliner next to his own and taking a sip of the tea he offered before asking the question plaguing your mind. 

“Haruchefant told me I should come to you to ask about Estinien and his more…" 

You hesitated, debating how to word it. 

"Animalistic tendencies.”

You said slowly after a moment. 

Sir Aymeric frowned just slightly at that. 

“He hasn’t done aught to frighten you or cause you harm has he?”

Despite shaking your head vehemently, he was already turning to get to his feet. 

“This can’t stand. I’ll be sure to have a word with hi-hm?”

He turned back at the feeling of you clutching his sleeve, though you quickly released it.

He catches the blush on your cheeks and your near whimper as you pleaded with him not to tell him.  

His eyes narrowed but he reluctantly returned to his seat and opted to answer you, in favor of asking questions.

“…Estinien does indeed have very crude urges now and again. An unfortunate side effect of Nidhogg’s influence he has learned to cope with."

"He typically releases it through the heat of battle but I have seen a few other occasions where his mask slips. It typically only occurs when he is enraged, or otherwise "heated”. Does that answer your question?“ 

Oh, it answered your question alright. You’d never been so gut punched. How could you have missed it? 

You weren’t the only one that liked it. 

You nodded hastily at Aymeric as he repeated your name at lack of answer and then left in a rush after thanking him profusely as he looked after you in bemusement. 

Well then. Seems he has the answer for why you were asking. A glance outside to where he saw you sprint right into familiar armor had him humming merrily as he prepared to return to work. 

He’d drag the story out of Estinien later. It’d make for a fun break. T'was sure to be an enjoyable one, in any case. An uncharacteristically teasing grin broke out across his lips as his eyes lit up with an idea, however. 

Perhaps he could speed things up a bit…

—–

You squealed and rushed to look up as in your haste to escape you had bumped right into hard armor and felt your eyes widen at the sight of Estinien. 

"E-Estinien!!" 

He looked down at you in confusion, hands rubbing up and down your arms already to warm them from where you had left without your coat. 

"I’m surprised to find you out here. What has you so-”

His deep rumble was cut off by Aymeric’s call from above. 

“Estinien; I hope you don’t mind but I filled her in on your impulsiveness since she was curious. Ah and Lightbringer,  I’m afraid you forgot your coat in your haste.”

He was the picture of innocence as he waved your coat in the wind from the window. 

Estinien said nothing and you gaped in shock, quickly followed by a muffled yelp as Estinien suddenly jumped, returning with your snatched coat in his grasp mere moments later. 

He roughly helped tug it on, bundling you up and then dragged you by your wrist without a word away from Aymeric’s estate as you sputtered and searched for words to speak that didn’t come. 

Well. At least you’d die with a smile on your face.

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #6: Ring

Characters: Silva Cataracta and Ricmorn Silverkin (Cataracta)

Rating: Mature

Notes: Scene takes place sometime between Heavensward Patch 3.0 and Patch 3.1

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Alcohol/Drinking, Food, Playful Banter, Anxiety, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, Mentions of Original Character(s) Death(s), Suggestive Themes, Mentions of Groping, Mentions of Biting/Marking, Kissing.

“Did you enjoy dinner, my dear? I was worried I may have gotten a few of the recipes wrong, seeing as I’ve never made traditional Far Eastern food before.”

Silva took a sip from her wine flute, savoring how the bubbles from the white wine popped on her tongue, before answering Ricmorn. “Yes, it was amazing! I’m very impressed!” she beamed, her long tail swishing against the stone floor. The grin full of bright teeth and fangs he gave her sent her heart racing. 

Seeing him happy like this… she still didn’t have the words for it.

She still couldn’t believe after spending the day roaming around Ishgard, The Churning Mists, and Idyllshire together, he spent the last few bells preparing this lavish dinner for her. The sounds of his deep chuckles bounced around in her horns at the shocked gasp when she saw the table filled with her favorites. A platter with crispy assorted tempura that Au Ra devoured. Bowls filled with hot curry, rice, and meat so tender it melted in her mouth. Freshly brewed Doman tea to chase the chill of the wind and snow that paired perfectly with the flaky, sticky baklava. And, of course, the bottle of sparkling wine she loved.

It was a lovely way to end their long day.

“For your first time making dishes like these, you did an excellent job! It was lovely to have a taste of… where I spent most of my life.”

To think after all this time — after almost thirteen long years — she couldn’t call the land of her birth home. Living through the Garelen invasion of Doma, being treated as lesser than others, and the trauma surrounding the death of her parents and being disowned by her mother’s side of the family in Thavnair, still sat heavy with her. These were wounds she didn’t know how to heal herself.

She didn’t know if they could ever heal.

If her beloved caught the stressing of the word, and she was sure he heard it, he said nothing. Instead, he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the small patch of ivory scales decorating her brow. Silva hummed at the sweet gesture.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured, his eyes finding hers. He always loved how those vibrant sea-green orbs sparkled up at him. “Perhaps next time we could make all of this together? I would love to learn from you, Silv.”

She nodded, touched at the suggestion. “I would love that, Ric.”

“Good,” he rumbled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “It’s a date then.”

“At least next time, I will be properly dressed!” she laughed, a pale lilac flush staining her cheeks. A warm blush that wasn’t from the wine. “I feel a little silly and out of place.”

Had Silva known Ricmorn was taking her to his room he used in the Fortemps Manor for a private dinner, she would have worn her usual sleepwear under her silk robe. Not the set of sheer lingerie she was wearing.

Maybe tonight wasn’t the best time to ask if he wanted to sleep with her — if he wanted to finally take that next step in their relationship. What was she thinking?

She snapped out of her thoughts when a low growl sounded in her horns. The pleased sound and the heat of desire burning in his sky-blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Sparks of levin crackled between them, the air growing thick, and the black knew it wasn’t from her magic.

Perhaps…

“I think you look stunning as always, love. You could wear only a popoto sack, and I would still find you to be the most beautiful woman on this star,” he playfully teased. 

Silva snorted, rolling her eyes. “Of course you would say that—”

“I’m not finished.” Her breath hitched when the Auri man gently trailed the tips of his fingers along the flat edge of one ivory horn. “I will admit. Seeing you like this surprised me, but not in a bad way.” The wandering digits ghosted over the stark white scales under her horn, trailing along soft skin until coming to a stop at the juncture of her neck and right shoulder. He smirked when he felt her pulse jump against his knuckles. “Not in a bad way at all.”

Ricmorn wouldn’t say it aloud, but the second he saw her wrapped up in the short midnight blue fabric, he fought back the urge to groan. To force down the sudden need to let his hands over smooth exposed skin and pretty scales, to latch his mouth to hers and steal the air from her lungs with fervent kisses. Only to lower his head and decorate her throat and collarbone in blooming love bites once satisfied, soothing the sting of the marks with his tongue. Oh, how she sang for him during their little moments of intimacy — something she wanted to explore more with him lately.

He still wanted to do those things now. To hear the breathy whimpers and sighs of his name leave her. But it would have to wait until later. The small box hidden deep in one of his pockets that slowly grew heavy as the night went on suddenly felt like a tonze of bricks, and his nerves were kicking in. He refused to let himself back out of this now, not when he was so close to asking the woman who held his heart in her tiny hands for the last four years — even if they hadn’t been in a courtship the entire time — the most important question of his life.

Silva watched as he suddenly straightened himself, moving to add their dirty eatery and teacups to the cart he brought their shared meal on. She sat her half-empty glass down and stood to help him, licking her lips.

“Here— Let me help—”

Ricmorn shook his head, causing some of his snow-white hair to fall into his eyes. “No, no. I got this,” he promised. “This will only take me a few minutes to clean up and find a servant to take the cart away.”

“You could at least let me help,” she sighed. “You’ve done a lot for me today. It wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

“That’s because I love you, silly woman.” He reached over to refill Silva’s glass, placing the empty bottle on the cart before handing the glass back. “Now, relax wherever you’d like with your wine. The second I return, I am yours for the rest of the night.”

He didn’t miss how her long tail quivered after he finished speaking, watching the pale lilac blush painting her light blue-gray skin darkened. “I— R-right, yes, of course!” was her stuttered response. 

She quickly took the glass from him and walked over to the roaring fire burning in the fireplace. The last thing she needed was for her lover to question her stuttering. It would do her some good to put a little distance between them so she could have a chance to center herself and get her heart to stop thundering in her chest.

Chuckles tumbled from him before he left the room with the loaded cart, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The moment she was alone, she let out a deep sigh. Silva was glad he didn’t question her sudden anxiety before leaving, knowing she would be unable to think of a good excuse in her current state of mind. He could coax the truth out of her without lifting a finger. He was always good at pulling the right strings when it came to her, and it drove her mad. Even though, if she played her cards right, she could easily do the same thing with him.

But now that silence surrounded her, and she was alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t help but think about how her fellow Au Ra seemed anxious himself. It was an emotion she didn’t see often with him. Ricmorn was usually stoic and collected when they were around their friends or relaxed and vulnerable when it was just the two of them. But she picked up the small clues he left behind throughout the day. How his hands shook or became clammy when they held hands. The way he was jumpy when she would get too close to his side as they walked. Or how his leg bounced nonstop during dinner.

Silva wondered if something was wrong. Did she upset him? He would have spoken with her if she did — they didn’t keep secrets from one another. Not after they learned the hard way, and that mistake nearly caused her to never return to Eorzea.

She was so lost in her thoughts, her gaze locked on to the swirling orange and red flames as she slowly sipped from her glass. So lost in her wondering mind, she didn’t hear her Warrior of Light counterpart enter the room.

“We’ve been through a lot together over the years, haven’t we, Silva?”

The question made her turn around, tilting her head slightly as her eyes landed on him. “Yes—” she croaked, clearing her throat and swallowing. Her lips twisted into a hesitant smile, doing her best to ignore how her heart continued to thump, thump, thump against her ribs. “Yes, we have. More than what most people see in several lifetimes.”

Ricmorn nodded, sighing. “We’ve been nearly all over Eorzea, fighting alongside our friends — each other. Lifted one another while the other was down, been the other’s voice when words were impossible to find.” He took a few steps away from the door, closer to her, and Silva could see several different emotions flashing in his gaze. “We’ve had our arguments and disagreements, said the wrong things to each other in the heat of the moment, times when we didn’t speak to one another. Eventually, we realized how foolish we were being — how many times I was unbelievably foolish — and we took the time to work through all of it.” He paused for a moment, looking down at his feet. “You… you were patient with me, understanding, when no one else could because I wouldn’t let them. Even after I broke your heart and pushed you away because I feared for your safety, you offered me your horns and kind words. Even to this day, that fact amazes me. And… a-and now we’re—”

A loud growl of frustration left him as he carded his hand through his snow-white hair. The other refused to leave the pocket with the box in it. Silva sat her glass down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and rushed to his side, worried trills and chirps rumbling in her throat.

“Ricmorn, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please—” she pleaded, standing up on the tips of her toes to cup his face between her palms. She was still too short to reach for him comfortably, but he lowered his head so she could.

“I had a speech! O-or at least something resembling one prepared. Can you believe that? Me, giving a speech?” the white mage exasperated, beige tail swishing. “It sounds so fucking stupid saying it aloud.”

Silva threw him a questioning look, getting more and more confused by the second. “Speech? Ricmorn, why would you—”

He shook his head. “Fuck it! Ignore the speech thing,” he said after taking a breath. “I’m doing this my way, and I just have to hope you know what I’m trying to do — what I’m trying to say.”

That did little to ease her worry. “Ricmorn, I—”

“Silva, just— Just listen, okay? Just give me a moment, please?” he whispered. “It’ll make sense, I promise. Gods, I hope it’ll make sense.”

They stared at each other for several minutes, eyes roaming the other’s face as silence fell over them. But Silva eventually gave in, nodding. Ricmorn sighed again, bumping his forehead to hers as he murmured his thanks and stepped back. She let him, her hands falling back to her sides, waiting in a mix of worry and perplexity. But nothing could have prepared her for what he had to say.

Or the fact the words filled with nothing but warmth, fondness, and admiration came out as a song — a love song. He was still a bard underneath his healing robes, after all.

She couldn’t stop the tears spilling from her eyes even if she wanted to. Or the heartfelt sobs bubbling up from her chest when Ricmorn got down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a silver ring fitted with a large blue oval sapphire. But it wasn’t just any ring — not to her. It was the ring her father used to propose to her mother.

She thought it was lost, forever resting somewhere at the bottom of the Ruby Sea. And now it was in front of her…

Silva joined his tune, singing her answer in return through her onslaught of tears as she eagerly nodded. She mumbled “yes, a thousand thousand yeses!” as he slipped the ring onto her finger and sealed his lips over hers, pouring all the love he felt for her into the deep kiss.

A whirlwind of movement happened as he picked her up and carried her over to the table where they had dinner, carefully sitting her on top of it. Bubbly giggles and hearty chuckles escaped the Auri couple between heated kisses, both filled with endless joy to take such a big step together in their relationship. To know their love knew no bounds.

It wasn’t until they got a little carried away with one another, Silva’s hands tangled in Ricmorn’s hair as his hands moved up her thighs, that another question popped up.

“Silva… Wait— Are… are you naked under your robe, Silva?”

[lcstkey]

Trigger Warnings: death mention, murder attempt, murder

When Artemis first heard of the “Voidsent”, it is through rumors and whispers throughout the Caroline Canopy and Old Gridania. From their rumored description, she mistook them for the yellow-eyed creatures that lurked in the shadows and consumed the hearts of the Star and its occupants.

The young adventurer hears of a location where they could be observed and observe she does. She staked out the Haukke Mansion from a safe distance and soon realized that the Voidsent weren’t related to these shadows at all. From what she observed, their preference for the dark and their inhumane shape were the only things that they had in common.

She did suspect that there may be a door that connected wherever Voidsent were from to the manor, but never did find or sense one on its perimeter. She couldn’t see a way inside the manor without alerting the Wood Wailer that stood guard at its front door. So, the young adventurer put that endeavor aside.

Ala Mhigan and Garlean were labels that Artemis had been called before. While she’d still be an outsider to Gridania and perhaps to Eorzea as a whole, she had accepted them without complaint because they meant that she belonged on this Star and the thought of her being from another Star wouldn’t cross anyone’s mind. Perhaps that is why suddenly being called “Voidsent” had caught her so off guard.

Artemis had accepted a request to deliver supplies to Florentel’s Spire in the North Shroud. After the adventurer finished her task and was heading back, she had caught sight of one of those Floating Eyes and chose to give chase lest that they’d trouble some other adventurer. Turned out that the one monster that she chased led her straight toward Alder Springs and into an ambushed group of Wood Wailers led by Carlisle himself.

It's a split-second decision which broke a promise to herself; the promise that she wouldn’t use her power unless it was an absolute must. Artemis forgoes the lance and the bow in favor of Eblis’ power and the keyblade. She told herself that she needed Eblis’ speed to reach them in time. Yet, the power of both Eblis and the keyblade felt comforting.

But the young adventurer couldn’t shake off the shock and fear on the group’s faces as she slew the Floating Eyes with terrifying ease. It had to be okay; they’re alive and lived to survive the horrible encounter. It should be okay.

While she hadn’t been expecting their thanks, most especially from Carlisle himself, she certainly wasn’t expecting their sudden hostility toward her. Even after Artemis lets go of Eblis’ power, the majority of them were furious toward her and her ‘evil’ and dark power. So furious and loud that it scared her enough to take several steps back toward the ledge of the cliff behind her. Her mind filling, eyes wide, with dread, she couldn’t even get a word in as any attempt to explain herself died in her throat.  

“I’d rather die than to be saved by a Voidsent hiding in a mortal’s skin.” Says Carlisle as he roughly shoves her off the cliff with no hesitation and no remorse, then he looks away, back at the group, “We’ll tell them at the Canopy that she slipped off the cliffside trying to save us from those monsters.”

One by one, each member of his group walked off except for a copper-haired Elezen man who stood there and watched the cliffside in shock. He turns around to walk back to the Canopy to not only watch Carlisle start to weave his web of lies but to check on the squirrel and griffin cub the young adventurer had left behind there.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #10 - Heart Beat

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, but no major spoilers>

Heady - ‘having a strong or exhilarating effect’

————————————————————

Katsum hardly even noticed the cold as she fiddled nervously with her chakrams as she peeked around the edge of the tall curtains that hid the dancers from the eyes of the gathered crowd. She recognized many of the faces she saw amongst them. She saw Hilda and people of the Brume and the Watch, and the orphaned children who were talking and laughing together. The counts of the four noble houses were gathered as well; in fact all of House Fortemps was in attendance. Even Vidolfnir and a few of the young dragonets from Anyx Trine had come, the great white dragon laying back behind the crowd a ways where she was talking with Lucia and Maelie, the young dragonets fluttering curiously above her while they chattered excitedly to be in a city of man. While seeing these familiar faces certainly did not help ease her worry, the true culprit of her anxiety was the raven-haired commander that was having a deep conversation with a few of the temple knights; Aymeric de Borel.

Her cat-like sapphire eyes traced the contours of his profile, watching his lips move and his eyes alight as he gestured towards the two knights and they smiled and nodded. The snow flakes in his raven black hair did not go unnoticed either, the bits of ice forming a halo. He looked ethereal, like a handsome prince, and it brought the warmth to her face still to know that he had chosen her. The way her heart melted when they were together was still so strange to her, but the way it had fluttered that night and through that first kiss, she’d never forget it. The only issue is that now she would feel so shy sometimes around him, and she worried about what impression that gave people having only seen her be the stoic and serious knightess of light.

“So…are you going to go and talk to him, or do I need to do it for you?” Katsum jumped at the voice that came from behind her, her tail fluffing up as she turned to see Ranaa standing there, a wide-eyed look on her face before she giggled, “My goodness, I’ve never seen you caught off guard, Katsum. Are you alright?”

Katsum sighed and tried to compose herself and wipe the warmth from her cheeks as she found it hard to meet her gaze, “Yes. I’m alright. Just…seeing how many people had gathered.”

“Aaaaaand looking for a certain someone, yeah? Who is he?” She winked at Katsum before slowly backing off, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

Katsum felt her ears lift from her skull as she realized she’d been glaring, her features softening as she reached out towards Ranaa, “No, no, I’m…I’m sorry Ranaa. I'm not used to my thoughts showing so freely. It's very strange to me.”

Ranaa blinked, but nodded with a soft smile, “It’s because of that man, yes? He’s quite handsome, and very kind and noble from the conversations he is having.”

A breath of a smile graced Katsum’s lips as she nodded, “He is Aymeric de Borel, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and the leader of Ishgard itself…and he is indeed a very noble and chivalrous knight.”

“Aw, and he’s caught your eye, I see! Well, my question still stands, do you need me to introduce you?”

“N-n-no, we are already well acquainted I…” She sighed before she spoke seriously, “He and I know each other very well, I assure you. I just…get nervous around him sometimes lately.” No one knew they were seeing each other as they had decided to keep it secret until the excitement in Ishgard had settled so that no odd rumors could truly gain any traction. Still, it was hard to wear her emotionless mask around him as much anymore, and she could only guess what that meant.

“Probably on account of your feelings for him I’d guess, but that means this is the perfect chance to get his attention!” Ranaa excitedly bounced on her heels as her tail swished with her excitement, “You dance so beautifully and so gracefully there is no way he won’t notice! And as we are lifting their spirits and fighting against the shadows weighing down their souls, he surely won't be able to take his eyes off you!” She grinned and gestured to the Thavnarian style dress Katsum wore, “And with that exotic dress, who could resist looking at you~”

Katsum’s jaw dropped as her embarrassment returned, “Ranaa, please!”

The dark-skinned miqo’te giggled as she started stepping backwards, “Alright, we are ready to start whenever you are, yeah? You look amazing as always, Katsum, and you’ll be sure to chase any shadows with your dance.” She then turned and headed back to the other trope members.

The blonde miqo’te sighed and stood up straight, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself and calm her nerves. Her feelings for him. The fluttering in her chest and the want to be around him and spending time with him.When put like that, it was little wonder it was hard to wear her ‘mask’ as it surely fell off every time her heart started beating out of her chest. There was a part of her deep down that was excited to dance for him too she realized, and so she tried to tap into that feeling as she turned and followed Ranaa so that the show could begin.

— — — — — — — — — —

“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming!”

Katsum gripped her chakrams tightly as she listened to the trope member’s words, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Ranaa placed her hand on her shoulder and nodded with a smile, a quiet affirmation of ‘You got this’ to which Katsum smiled weakly back and nodded. Her heart was still beating loudly in her ears, but she focused on her breathing and then ran through the steps of the dance in her head.

And she planned to lock eyes with him the very moment she could.

“Without further ado, I give you…the dancers of Trope Falsiam!”

In unison, she and Ranaa moved into their starting poses as the curtain began to draw back. Katsum peered through her chakram where it covered most of her face, waiting impatiently to catch the ice blue gaze of the Lord Commander. As the curtain revealed them, the crowd erupted into applause, but the only thing Katsum saw was Aymeric’s widened eyes as he saw her. It scared her for a moment before she noticed the red dusting on his cheeks and she realized he was flustered slightly. That made her heart flutter in kind and spurred her feet forward.

The music began and the two dancers moved and spun to the beat, slow at first as they awaited the rest of the instruments to join the lute, ever moving further onto the stage as they did. Katsum kept her eyes locked with Aymeric as she spun on her foot and sliced through the air slowly with her chakram, willing her body to move more gracefully than she ever had before. He seemed to be locked into place, his eyes following her every move. She blushed lightly at the thought but she smiled warmly at him, which he returned.

The music picked up then and a new confidence burned in her breast as she quickened her steps and sliced through the air. The colored petals and feathers of light began to appear to the amazement of the crowd as she and Ranaa danced on opposite sides of the circle moving clockwise around it. And as the lights grew, the shadows began to take shape, the darkness slithering out of the peoples hearts and into the ring, gathering together into the forms of many-faced monsters. The people gasped at the sight of them but Ranaa and Katsum continued to dance to calm them. As the knightess drew near to one, the shadow hissed and reared back its clawed hand.

“Now, Raihogg.” Katsum whispered and her necklace glowed gently, a new red light of dragon scales appearing around her as she spun and threw her chakrams into the attacking shadow. Again it hissed and tried to advance, but she was far too quick, catching her weapons and throwing them again in quick succession to push it further back. She glanced over to Aymeric again, seeing his eyes brightly shining with amazement as the crowd around him cheered and she grinned and wound up her next step. Crouching low, she called for Raihogg’s strength again to brighten the glowing scales as she held her weapons close and ready for the jump. With a breath, she launched herself forward, spanning a few yalms in the blink of an eye and slicing through the shadow as she passed through it. The beast screamed before exploding into sparks and fading away.

Another scream echoed behind her and Katsum spun gracefully to see Ranaa taking down the other one at that same moment. She grinned confidently at Katsum and they returned to their dance, spinning and slicing the air as they danced the circle and moved towards each other in the center. When they finally reached it, they danced around one another for a moment before they turned back to back and froze their starting position once more facing the crowd, the beat of the music ending as they stopped. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers at their performance, the air about them all feeling much lighter now that the darkness had been vanquished. Katsum and Ranaa smiled at each other as she relaxed and bowed to the crowd with the rest of the troupe.

— — — — — — — — — —

Katsum bowed in thanks as the few temple knights waved their goodbyes and made their way back to their posts. She sighed contently, happy to know their spirits were a bit lighter this day without so much darkness whispering of all they’d lost in the war. It made her happy to know that a ‘simple’ dance was able to help them breathe a little clearer.

“Ah there you are,” She turned to meet the ice blue gaze of the raven-haired commander as he stepped up to her with a warm smile on his face, “I am glad to have caught you before you left. That was an amazing performance. I had no idea you were dancing!”

Katsum smiled shyly, twirling a strand of hair as her tail swished behind her bashfully, a shiver slightly shaking her for a second before she replied, “Thank you, and yes, I’ve been working with the troupe for a few months now and learning their dances. It was they who found me after a storm destroyed my boat as I was sailing away from my home, and they who found Soldier and brought him back to me. I’ve kept in touch ever since, and finally decided to learn the Dancer’s trade.”

He nodded, “I remember when they brought your horse to Camp Dragonhead, and might I say that you have certainly learned the trade well,” His eyes flitted down for a moment and she blushed as she realized he was trying his best not to stare at her exposed skin, “It was certainly a beautiful…and deadly dance.”

She shivered again as her ears dropped and she nodded, “T-Thank you.”

His smile faded as he noticed her shiver and quickly shed himself of his fur coat, “May I?”

She blinked in surprise but nodded, letting him move close and drape the coat over her shoulders. Katsum smiled and wrapped the furred coat around herself, happily breathing in his scent that lingered on it, “Thank you, Aymeric. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Of course. Can’t have the Warrior of Light freezing after her most beautiful display of dance…” Aymeric swallowed thickly then, a bright blush dusting his cheeks as she noticed he was fidgeting and pulling down his royal-blue shirt collar slightly as his eyes darted back and forth from her own to where his coat hid her dress.

“Aymeric, are you…?”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I am just fine, I assure you…I would just like to say…you were stunning and I could scarcely take my eyes off of you, but I also would ask perhaps…could you wear a different dress for your dancing? While this one is…ravishing, it is rather…revealing if you understand my meaning.”

It took a moment for it to truly hit her what he had said, yet the moment it did, Katsum’s ears stood up as her tail fluffed and a deep red blush covered her face. Becoming far more subconscious than she had been, she wrapped the coat around her more tightly, hiding her burning face against the furs of the collar.

She nodded as her entire body burned from embarrassment, “I-I’ll uh…see what I can do…but i’ll also hang on to this one…in case I ever…need it…”

Now it was his turn to blush darkly and they both thanked the heavens no one around to see, “Right! As you should. Never uh…never know.”

She nodded as she coughed and shook her head to clear her mind, and brought up another topic to speak on which he was most gracious for and soon the moment of embarrassment had passed. From afar, Ranaa watched out of the corner of her eye while she was speaking to some of the audience members and smiled seeing them, happy to see that someone was helping Katsum find the parts of herself that lay hidden under her stoic mask.

[whitherliliesbloom]

reflections in crystal

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #30 - splinter ]

[ wol and her found family ]  ★ [ 1,654 words ]  ★ [ post-5.3 ]

all of the shb scions except urianger (sorry urianger i just can’t deal with the way you speak aaaaaa). mentions of ryne, krile and tataru too. 

we may forget ourselves, but we’re ever riding home. and for now and evermore, we will never lose hope.

“I do hope you have a good explanation for dragging all of us out here.” With crossed arms, Y’shtola frowns at the miqo’te as he beckons towards his fellow scions and ushers them out the stairwell and onto the balcony, tail flicking in anticipation.

“It will be worth your while, I promise!” He lets out a boyish grin, the very picture of innocent glee that Y’shtola saw fit not to argue against and merely shrugs. G’raha closes the door behind the party, before moving to the stone railing and gesturing to his lalafellin companion.

“Here, here! A front row seat for our hero of the hour!”

The champion and hero in question flushes, a hue of pink rising up to dust her cheeks and the tips of her ears as she hides her bespangled violet eyes beneath the shadow of pure white bangs. 

“P-please! N-None of that! This isn’t about me right now!” 

But her piss poor attempt to hide her emotions are fruitless - in front of the ones she has spent what feels to be her entire eventful life with, and the lalafellin’s embarrassed state has evidently given the others some amount of amusement, from Alphinaud’s stifled laughter to Alisaie’s smirk - though the latter was quickly wiped away as the feistier of the twins turns her attention to the vista before them. 

“Well whatever it is he dragged us here for, I don’t really mind.” Alisaie’s amiable mood seems to catch the man in question off guard, who widens his eyes at the awestruck expression upon her face. “At least the view’s pretty.”

Pretty would be a sore understatement, really... and there wasn’t a single scion who would think to disagree.

Together, their eyes raised heavensward, where a tower of crystal stood amongst the stars and the full moon in all its radiant glory. 

For a moment there was silence as the scions lined themselves up to look upon that beacon of light - and from within the intense lapis glow of the crystal’s shine they saw glimmers of the past; a past that felt both so distant away, yet vivid in their minds all the same. 

It almost felt like a dream - their adventures in the First, and though they had all just barely recovered from their taxing soul transfer, the scions felt a burst of renewed energy as they reflected upon those memories while their eyes are so nearly blinded by the everlasting light of the crystal tower.

Illya sits herself upon the railing, and from her sling bag she fishes out a jar of oddly familiar cookies, holding them out to Thancred with a smile upon her face. 

“Coffee biscuits baked by Ryne! She said it may taste a little different from the one you’re used to, though. She wanted us to enjoy some while we gathered tonight.” With a raised eyebrow, the man in white takes the jar, eyeing the unevenly browned biscuits through the glass with suspicion, though it wasn’t exactly the biscuits questionable appearance that caused him reservation. 

“Gathered tonight you say? Is this some kind of special occasion?” Thancred asks, and frowns when the lalafell merely shrugs her shoulders, eyes glistening with a well-rehearsed faked expression of ignorance. “So I take that you know what G’raha’s up to.”

She peers up to glance at the miqo’te man beside her who stares down at her in return, and after a moment of contemplative silence, their lips turn upwards into a cheeky grin that causes Thancred’s eyes to almost roll out of his own skull.

“Aha- speaking of what I’m up to.” Vivid red eyes light up at the sight of a distant gleam, and with a raised finger he confidently points up to the shimmering sky. “I believe it’s just begun!”

Upon the darkened night sky, they begin to witness a spectacular shower of lights, falling from the heavens before splaying apart. Like the descent of cosmos, they paint streaks of gold glitters across the backdrop of the cloudless darkness, forming an array of fleeting constellations.  Luminous sheets of blue and purple auroras rise, and their combined radiance fills the hearts of the scions with a veneration and awe that they could not find words to describe. And amidst the astral plane, the crystal tower is right at home, its light shining ever brighter as if taking in the prayers of the hopes and dreams that had been wished upon the falling stars. 

Reflected in their eyes, they momentarily saw fire and ash, and they could almost hear whispers of the past and voices muffled by water. 

It was a star shower not unlike the one they’d witnessed in the First, one that was understandably a sore point of memory for most of the scions present.

“You took us all here.. to see a star shower? After everything that happened?” Thancred asks, tilting his head inquistively, though his eyes never once leaves the spectacle in the sky. 

“I thought it fitting.” With a serene smile, one of an ease that he has not known for the past hundred years, G’raha murmurs, and he takes in a deep breath to calm his hummingbird heart. “So that we’ll remember what we once were.” 

Termination was no pretty sight, and it filled him with no more trepidation than any of the other scions. The sight before them was one of a memory of pain, a reflection of world’s end, and what could have been crippling failure.

But the illusion of no tomorrow was broken, as did the shackles that had kept him prisoner of his own duty. And his heart soars a hundredfold as he closes his eyes for but a moment, and recalls the way he and the Warrior of Darkness fought and cried out against fate with one voice until the very end - until the arrival of another clear blue sky.

And from within crystal, he can finally look back on his reflection with a fondness in his heart, and watch the shower of stars as a symbol of future’s arrival - a future that will ever keep coming so long as they held on to hope. 

“Emet-Selch had once said that we were incomplete - that our souls, sundered and broken as they are, hold no worth in the world.” Alphinaud reflects, leaning forward and resting his arms against the railing with a smile. He lifts a gloved hand, drawing invisible lines across the sky as if connecting the fading trails left behind by the stars. 

“But he forgot that our worth laid not in the weight of our souls, but of the legacy we leave behind. Our souls may splinter and fray.. but they will never truly disappear as long as we fight to live. And through that, the light of a thousand fractured stars is still enough to birth a sun.” 

Like scattered moon dust, the stars continued to hang in the air proudly, and they will ever continue to do so like jewels of the night sky until morning light comes to greet a new day. Their reflection slowly fades into the dark as the falling stars slow and vanish - but as the light of their souls persists, so too will their memories live on, waiting to be relived another day in their dreams.

And upon a mountain of pained memories, there laid a hope for a brighter tomorrow that has not yet died. If even the end of days was not enough to extinguish their light, then what could?

“Ugh.. there he goes again being all pretentious and poetic.” Alisaie groans, folding her arms across her chest as her brother shrugs. “Besides.. isn’t that not fitting at all.. given the Warrior of Darkness and everything..”

“T’was just a metaphor, dear sister. Though I suppose I should be more careful with my vocabulary seeing how some people are too slow to understand.”

The young man’s collar was promptly grabbed, and Alphinaud nearly suffocates helplessly against Alisaie’s death grip as she shakes him violently. Illya lets out a melodic laugh, one that echoes in the air to accompany the soft whispers of the wind. When Alphinaud’s face has been sufficiently paled, Alisaie finally releases him to cough, puffing her chest out with a huff.

“So are we done here? I got places to be, thieves to chase, you know.” 

“I concur, Krile and Tataru have need for my assistance with something and I think I’ve kept them waiting long enough.” Y’shtola, despite the sternness in her tone of voice, flashes an uncharacteristically gentle smile. 

“Well, if everyone’s dispersing I guess I will too.” With a stretch and a grunt, Thancred raises the jar of coffee biscuits up. “I’ll leave these in the Rising Stones for anyone who wants some.” 

If G’raha had been attempting to hide his disappointment, he truly did a poor job at it, as his ears flatten against the top of his head and his lips forms into a pout for but a moment. 

“I had hoped that we’d get to linger a little while longer but-”

The Warrior of Light swivels around, and grabs onto Alphinaud’s hand before hopping off the railing, and from beneath the bangs of her hair that shone with an ever transcending radiance, he catches glimpses in the vibrant lavender hues of her eyes a promise - a promise of an adventure, a future, and a wish he’d kept locked in his heart for so long until recently. 

“Don’t worry. We may scatter now.. but..” Illya’s smile is one of a tranquil, reassuring gentleness, as her long hair sways gently like waves among the starry night breeze. G’raha shivers as the wind howls and blows away any ponze of lingering doubts away for good, and he finds himself mirroring the renewed expression of joy she wore upon her face. 

“We’ll all come home again, no matter how long it takes.”

[sinakakyralih]

It had been a good idea. For her, if for no one else. And they didn’t look like they were doing poorly without her - not that she had ever doubted that. She left someone responsible in charge; someone she watched mature and rise and fall and rise again; they’d be fine. They were fine.

The Keeper smiled as she leaned on the bridge’s railing with her chin in the palm of one hand, her grey tail curling up fondly as a Lalafell threw open the doors of the Mare Tranquilitatis -- er, Shady Boughs -- with an armload of gardening implements. The young woman gently kicked the door shut behind her and dodged around the table on the front porch, maneuvered down the stairs, and dropped the lot of tools in a semi-organized manner on the edge of one of the garden plots in the front yard, made a show of rolling up their sleeves, tugging the brim of their hat into place, and diving in to dig out the weeds and tend for whatever crop they had coming in. 

The sunlight felt good. The breeze off the lake and the sound of the little waves upon the shore were relaxing, tranquil, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of Lavender Beds, of home, though she made no move towards the house across the waters. This feeling was different than before, where home felt like the night, the wind rushing across the roof, the cacophony of the waterfall behind their little cottage; the shouting, the running, the friends bursting in at all hours. Back when they couldn’t afford their own houses. Then, they were constantly in each others’ hair and business and lives. … but those friends were gone now, moved on with their lives and their own adventures, and she’d been trying that too, lately, hadn’t she?

The first to drift had been Kel; it hadn’t been long after moving into the larger house in a different district - this district - that he had taken up semi-permanent residence in Ishgard, setting in motion what would eventually become the Ishgard Restoration Project. She’d seen him once or twice around the city - they had had tea once, but he was a busy man now and while she had thought his talk a little technical before this undertaking, now it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way - in that… well, that nostalgic Kel sort of way. 

Next had been… Cae. Cae had always been the “mom friend”: strong and driven and organized and strict with her expectations, and welcoming, caring, people-oriented. She was a caretaker and a fierce friend and she missed having her influence in her life, but somewhere along the way they had drifted, and while Cae had continued to count herself part of the Pretty Guardians for a long while after, she felt it was more for nostalgia and loyalty than for that feeling of connectedness. She had moved on - she met new friends, started an amazing and flowery business - she was a full-time healer, now, and wandered to collect the best herbs for both her medicines and her tea; her place was very pretty, very soft and pastel, and very much Cae. She seemed happy, and she was glad for her. And for Kal, and L’uana; she didn’t often have a reason to visit Shirogane these days, but she always made a habit of stopping by when she was there, and when the big-hearted owner wasn’t home, she doodled in her guestbook.

During that time was when their influx of new recruits really started to grow; at first, it was just one or two, like in the old days: just picking up strays that needed a home, like Alannah and Kel; but over time their registered numbers really started to climb as individual members started picking up one or two adventurers that needed an affiliation for safety, even if they didn’t really stick around the house all that often. She had been happy to give that: the Pretty Guardians were there to help, even if it were just to lend their name and a hand to their members when necessary. Some, however, stuck around, getting close with everyone, even as the old guard started fading away…

Alannah got married to that rascal Nine from the neighbourhood around their first Free Company cottage - their story not exactly typical in any way beyond ‘they were somewhat neighbours’, but that was their story; she was happy for their happy ending, even though it was sad to watch her move out of Lavender Beds and into a charming little cottage in La Noscea. She wasn’t around as often after that, not that she could blame her. She had a baby, Ash, that she brought back for meetings and playdates with her “aunties”; the little girl was adorable and was fun to teach things to that Alannah may not have exactly wanted her to learn so quickly, but that’s what she got for their free babysitting services. Alannah was still there, welcoming in new members, keeping track of the day-to-day goings-on, connected to the house through moogle mail and linkshell while not there in person. She entrusted her with everything.

But it had always been Adelpha and her that were the fixtures of the house - its caretakers, trainers of new recruits, calling shots, and organizing FC activities, but…

Adelpha’s retirement had been unexpected. She wasn’t that far away - she was back in Gridania, having taken a steady job as a researcher, going into the family business after her father had suffered a fall. She knew her father - they had met through her father; but what she was doing wasn’t just being noble or making a sacrifice for her family, it was what she wanted to do. They had been friends for nearly a decade; she had dragged Adelpha clear across Eorzea and beyond, had pulled her into the Scions, thrown her into dangerous situations and jumped in right after. They’d had fun; they were each other’s backup. Adelpha was her playmate, her grumpy, easily-aggravated-on-the-outside, clearly-enjoying-acting-that-way-on-the-inside best friend. … but adventuring forever hadn’t been her dream. 

It was Sinaka’s. 

And maybe that was what she needed to realize, and to let go of. All of her original friends had moved on, left their adventuring in their twenties or early twenties, and settled down into the occupation they wanted to have for the rest of their lives: occupations that made them happy and fulfilled, callings that they had found and fought for, and while that didn’t align with the dream they had shared nine years ago, it didn’t make that dream any less real. The time they had spent together had been real, and special, and something she wouldn’t forget for the rest of her life, and had to believe that they would never forget, either. 

But still, Adelpha leaving had led to a period of loss for her: the end of an era, and the idea of facing it while still running operations for the new recruits -- a reference she really had to stop making, seeing as how it had been years since most of them had joined now -- left her feeling hollow, unable to give the same lively performance they were used to, so she took time off to travel, to reflect, to see if adventuring was still her calling or if she had been hanging on out of duty and nostalgia and stubborn loyalty to the people of her past… 

It had been five months since she had transferred leadership to Alannah and left in the middle of the night. She had left a letter, sure, but she could just imagine the face the hyur would have had upon reading it. She grinned, taking in a deep breath that smelled of water lilies, and let it out slowly. 

She wasn’t ready to go back just yet, but she would be.

It was good to see the place was still standing, though, and that the symbol above the door still matched the pin she wore on her lapel, even if the house’s face had changed drastically from when she had seen it last. She didn’t know how Alannah was dealing with all the flowers, but it looked nice. 

The Pretty Guardians were okay.

And she was okay. 

She’d be back.

Idk if those mentioned would want to be tagged ^^’ But yeah, feeling nostalgic for the “old days”, of 2012-2016, and when this definition came across my dash this little snippet fell into place and I feel like it explains not only character feelings and development and what’s been going on with Sinaka (wow I haven’t written for her since Heavensward? Waow XD (btw I had headcanoned years ago that her Path Companion, Sol, had traveled not 5 years into the future but to a different shard and man did shadowbringers bring me glee in letting that be a storyline I could wrap up hahahah)) but also give me a little moment to say...

Thank you.

Thank you Cae, and Adelpha, and Kal and Kel and Alannah (♥ still here with me, heehee) and those friends who weren’t part of the FC but were there for me back then (Sieg!). Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for logging so many hours with me doing stupid stuff like racing around zones and playing hide-and-seek and having hours-long hot-tub parties where we did literally nothing productive, just chatted about anything and everything in a basement hot tub through the text chat box. Thank you for the memories and the companionship and the silly stories. 

Thank you for being there.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2020 #15: Ache

(A/N: I say on my last prompt post that I inadvertently have a theme going in my pieces, and this prompt just enables me to keep working with it lol XD

Not every prompt is gonna lean into it, but most of them have halfway into the month now. The only thing I would say is unfortunate it that I’ve said my miqo WoL is a cheery positive character but most of these being focused on loss or sad things has presented her as more weepy or frustrated :’’D I’ll need to balance these out with cheery miqo!Fu fics after the month lol

Well loss and sad feels are the thing right now, so let’s look at heartache! Aka, I’ve written myself into the corner that is no WoLShipping cos my WoL is more focused on her duty and the pitfalls that mean relationships would be a lot harder when you have so many responsibilities :’) All WoLships are anchored for miqo!Fufu. If I ever want to do shippy stuff, I’ll have to AU it off my WoL timeline rip

Mostly smaller spoilers to the end of Heavensward, 3.3/.4 era, but the actual timeline placement of this one, I’m actually not sure, it could just happen after 3.4, but I could have it happening in 4.1 or 5.3 when the game also has story downtime.

Word count: 1953

@ffxiv-writers)

The low attendance in the Rising Stones made for a quiet atmosphere. One could hear a pin drop, or a door creaking open, as happened to the returning Fufu, dressed in a short ruffled dress gifted to her by the Scion’s own receptionist earlier that day. She only hoped to sneak in and hurry to her room, avoid any chatter. But her luck was against her, as a waiting Alisaie and Tataru jumped to attention at her arrival.

“Well, you’re home earlier than expected,” the lalafell giggled, “No-one here would’ve questioned if you’d enjoyed a longer dinner with Ser Aymeric.” The miqo’te flushed, averting her eyes from the grinning girls.

“There was no need to go any longer, it was just dinner,” she said.

“Just dinner,” Tataru scoffed, shaking her head. “Someone as hopelessly smitten as you just shrugged it off as dinner when he’d get to his knees for your any request?” Ignoring Fufu’s cry of umbrage at the suggestion, which itself drew a laugh from the younger girl in the room, Tataru jumped from her chair and declared, “You two wait right here. I will be back with tea and we are discussing the evening events.”

As she marched off for the Stones’ kitchen, Fufu just sagged, grumbling, “But there were no events.”

“She’s not going to take that as an excuse you know,” Alisaie smiled, “And even if you went off to your room, she’d just drag you back here or insist on having the conversation there instead.” The woman sighed, knowing the elezen’s word to be true. Resigned to the badgering to come, Fufu took her seat at the table beside Alisaie and placed her head on the surface, earning a sorry pat on her shoulder.

“I have to confess, I don’t see why it was only dinner,” the red mage hummed, eyebrow arched and a cheeky smirk spreading on her lips, “I did promise profusely not to go off and get shot with another poison tipped arrow to spoil this one like I did the last. With extra reassurances to my brother of course.”

Fufu pouted, but didn’t protest, which allowed Alisaie to continue, “Not to mention all the small tasks and missions were handed to every other soul here, leaving you a free bird for the day. Therefore, you had all the time in the world to engage the man in any affairs. More than just ‘dinner’, if you get me.”

Giving the girl a side eye, the miqo’te mumbled into the table, “Where did you learn about anything like that?” Alisaie simply smiled and leaned back in her chair, content to not answer.

To her credit, Tataru returned at this point, holding a tea tray. As she began setting up their cups on saucers and sliding a plate of bite sized biscuits into the middle, the lalafell said, “Y’know, as well as making sure everything here was all cleared up, we called ahead to make sure he wasn’t busy. Bless the Twelve for Lucia helping to negotiate his work in his stead.”

“I’d say you all have too much time on your hands if you’re this invested in playing matchmaker. You’re taking precious focus away from Ishgard’s workings and the rest of Eorzea,” Fufu monotoned. Alisaie rolled her eyes and countered, “That you say your part is to care for all of Eorzea vs his own single focus on Ishgard betrays that you are far too overworked and you deserved a break.”

The miqo’te frowned, idly running her fingertip around the rim of her freshly poured cup of tea. Tataru finally sat herself down, saucer in hand and declared, “There! We’re all set. Now tell us what happened?”

Fufu took a sip. “We had dinner. Went for a walk around the Hoplon-”

“Oh, that would’ve been nice,” Alisaie interrupted, taking a biscuit and ignoring the sharp look Tataru shot her way.

“...And then I left.”

Tataru coughed on her tea, hissing back a curse at the heat. “Wait, that’s it?” Even Alisaie tilted her head, confused.

A nod. “Yup. Dinner, a walk, then home. I told you nothing much happened.”

“W-well, what did you talk about? Surely you didn’t eat in silence,” the shorter woman stumbled, bewilderment writ upon her face.

Fufu shrugged. “Yeah, we talked. He said Ishgard was adapting well, though a few old guard types were still being stubborn about the change in policies, and the dragons coming and going into the Firmament. He was happy with how that’s been going, and pretty surprised when I said I was helping out there. I figured Francel might’ve brought it up.”

“And as nice as that is to hear, truly, I don’t think that’s what Tataru is looking for,” the girl said, seeing the quivering pout on the frustrated woman’s face.

“You’re absolutely right. Where is the romance? The sweeping declarations of courtship and love? You have had wider mooneyes than any miqo’te for this man since day 1 and now you tell me you had the best opportunity to be forthright and honest with him and you didn’t take it?” Tataru jumped to her feet onto the chair, hands slamming down on the table, making the tea shake. “And as I said before, he is just as obviously infatuated with you right back. Even if you somehow bit your tongue, surely he must’ve said something.”

Fufu carefully regarded the other woman, taking another sip. “I think you’ve been indulging in too much local gossip.” As Tataru near comically brought her head down against the surface, Alisaie frowned and stared intently at the keeper, eyes narrowed.

“You are being awfully cagey about this. Normally you’re much more full of life, or at least trying to be cheery even in a bad situation.” The Warrior noticeably avoided looking at the girl. Finally deciding to put her foot down and see to her friend’s uncharacteristic behaviour, Alisaie put her cup on the saucer, pushed it far away and asked, “What happened?”

An ear flicked. “I already said.”

“And you’re clearly leaving something out. Did he say no? Or did someone else say something? I know you’re not usually the type to let other people’s words bother you, but if it got to you this time--”

“Nope. Nothing like that,” Fufu clipped back, reaching to take another sip of her tea only for Tataru to grab hold of her arm, stopping her.

“Even if people did talk, it’d be more good than bad. At least the good would outweigh the awful, people would be delighted. Imagine the buzz across the lands; ‘The Warrior of Light and Ishgard’s own Lord Commander enamoured toge-’”

The cup slammed to the table, tea sloshed out onto the wood as the woman snapped, “And that’s the problem!”

Both girls jumped back at the outburst. Fufu lowered her head to her hands, letting out a watery sniff.

“You mean,” Alisaie tested slowly, watching for the miqo’te reaction, “the attention?” Her head shook, still buried in her hands.

“No,” she sighed, lifting her head again, her eyes glistening. “The problem is who we are, and what we do. He’s the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and one of the Speakers of the House. Ishgard’s fresh out of a thousand year long war and people still struggle with the shift. There’s dissenters in the ranks and the lowborn people still don’t trust his words even with the efforts of Hilda and the House of Commons. He doesn’t have time for relationships, and neither do I.”

She stood, tail curling and lashing. “I’m the Warrior of Light. I’m needed in so many places and I know you’re arguing that I need a break sometimes, I’m not refuting that, but with how many problems the realm has going on that need me at a moment’s notice, I can’t dedicate any time to another person that wouldn’t already be part of the Scions.” She took in a breath, trying to calm herself.

“Neither of us has the time or the energy. He has his duties to Ishgard, and I to the rest of the realm. When would we even find the time for each other? And I can’t imagine the worries he’d go through whenever I have to go off on another dangerous mission halfway across the star. Even with every promise under the sun that I can handle it and I’d come back safe, I wouldn’t resent him if he worried all the same.”

She finally collapsed back into the seat, sliding down into a depressed slouch. A heavy silence spread over the table, the tea chilled fast in the pot.

“I see,” was all Alisaie could add.

“He did ask though,” Fufu said quietly, making the others perk up, curious. “During the walk through the Pillars. He sent off his guard that came with us for some privacy.”

A sad smile inched across her lips, as she recalled, “And it was so sweet. Calling me things like ‘the fire that warmed Ishgard’s hearths’, ‘the lost sun returned to her highlands’, and ‘his own shining light of hope’.” She giggled when she saw Tataru’s eyes light up.

“But I told him my piece, ‘cos I’ve thought about it for a long time, and I couldn’t see any way for me to commit to him so long as there’s Ascians and Primals and the Empire breathing down our necks,” she sighed, “He took it well at least. He understood. I hope.”

“He should,” the elezen nodded firmly, a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “He’s a reasonable man, and after hearing all you’ve laid out, I’m sure even he can see the pitfalls of such a relationship. But perhaps he has the good patience to wait for you, whenever we finally bring a modicum of peace to the lands.”

“Oh he better!” Tataru huffed, hands on hips, “If he decides whenever you’re ready for some tender love and care that he’s not interested, then we will personally be marching to Ishgard and giving him a piece of our minds.” She thrust an open hand out, and to Fufu’s amusement, Alisaie took it and they shook, such serious looks on their faces that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I didn’t ask you both to be my wingwomen!”

“You don’t ask for a lot of things, so often you have to be told what you need,” Alisaie smirked, picking up the plate of biscuits and bringing them to the slouching woman, adding, “Speaking of which, take one of these. They’re quite good and after that tirade, you look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Fufu smiled, doing as she was told. And as she let out a pleased hum of approval, Tataru gave a shrug and said, “For someone who’s normally not fussed about all the work you have to do as the Warrior of Light, it’s a touch odd to see you complain about this side of it. Oddly refreshing I’d say, but odd all the same.”

Her ear flicked. “I know. But just ‘cos I don't mind the work doesn’t mean I don’t also see the burden in it.”

“Well, we try not to let you shoulder that burden entirely on your own. Just because we can’t help with primal fighting doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t pull our weight elsewhere,” the younger girl smiled, leaving them the plate and taking hold of the tray, saying, “It’s a shame teatime didn’t work out and most of this has gone to waste, but I’m glad for the chat at least.”

“Yeah,” the warrior nodded, “I appreciate you two listening, even if I didn’t want to talk about it at first.” 

Tataru laughed. “But of course! What are friends for?”

[efrmellifer]

FFxivWrite ‘20, Twenty-Three

Prompt: Shuffle, during Heavensward, 1,845 words (this could be considered a non-canon spiritual successor to Entry Eleven from the Wondrous Tails event)

Drinks were already on the table, ready when they were due to arrive, armored and bundled against an especially cold night.

Etien was the first to get to Camp Dragonhead (without already having been there, of course), with no knight’s responsibilities to keep her behind and running late.

Haurchefant had been called from the room to tend to some matter one of the younger knights had needed help with, so when he returned to find Etien seated, spreading out the cards, turning them over and doing tricks, he was a little surprised.

“Eager, are we?”

“Tataru gets the taverns, Alphinaud eavesdrops on the high houses’ gossip, and I get to see what the knights get up to in their free time,” she explained, examining her nails. “Not to mention that I enjoy the company of all three of you.”

“I can only apologize more of us couldn’t join in.”

“Such as?” she asked, folding her hands and resting her chin atop them.

“Oh, I don’t know. Corentiaux, Lucia, maybe some of the dragoons.”

Etien grinned, teeth glimmering in the lower light. “I don’t mind us keeping it small. More intimate that way.”

Haurchefant couldn’t hide the little giggle that bubbled up his throat at that. “You, my friend, must be careful saying things like that. Intimacy. Next, they’ll say you touch a gentleman's hand without gloves.”

She thought about the layers of leather and armor and thick fabric that had been barriers against even the most chaste of touches.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched someone outside of maybe supporting them after a battle.

Nothing came to mind. She wanted to, though, wanted to feel the warmth of a cheek against her palm, or the brush of fingers through her hair.

She had a preferred partner for that sort of thing, if ever she could be so blessed. Despite her intentions not to, she’d looked—stared, even, if the quick, hungry gaze could be called that—at the fingerless gloves giving way to fingertips Etien would give just about anything to kiss even if only once. Though she wondered, didn’t he ever get cold?

Hells, she’d have to kiss his fingertips to stave off frostbite.

She wondered a lot, not just about the kissing issue, but why the gloves were fingerless at all. Did it increase his grip on his sword? She needed her fingers free for bowstrings and lyre-plucking, but even she either cut holes in them or added leather with extra friction.

She didn’t suppose she would ever have a good reason to ask, it wasn’t as though she could simply say—

“Oh, hello, Aymeric.” She tried to keep her voice light as she gathered up the cards she’d been playing with, scrabbling for her drink—oh gods damn, Haurchefant had added port to the chocolate.

Well, this was probably the best group for her to be drinking around; she could trust them even if the drink really was intoxicating.

When Etien had put her cup down, Aymeric greeted her, followed with an “Enjoying that?”

She nodded. “I hadn’t expected the wine, but it’s a nice touch.”

“Ah, I had meant to warn you,” Haurchefant interjected. “Mine apologies.”

She waved it away with a sunny smile. “Estinien coming soon?”

“He was only a few steps behind me,” Aymeric commented, looking towards the door. “So I would think so.”

The door opened, Estinien shaking snow from his hair.

“I would think it would be warmer, if snow was on the way,” Etien said with a little tint of confusion.

“It is not snowing,” Estinien grumbled. “Someone being careless with their Chocobo ran into a tree I was standing under.”

“Is everyone all right?”

“The Chocobo trotted off unscathed, but without its rider. I made my way here as fast as I could.”

“Ah,” resounded from Aymeric, Etien, and Haurchefant.

“So what are the rules tonight?” Etien asked as she lifted the cards again.

The three men shared a look among them. Something had sparked in Haurchefant’s eyes, but Aymeric looked hesitant and Estinien impassive. But no one seemed to disagree with whatever he was suggesting.

“Light armor, no other outerwear,” he said finally.

Etien shrugged off the draping cloak she had on, and unlooped her scarf from around her neck, laying it on the table next to her.

“No helmet, Estinien?” Aymeric asked.

“None of you have one; it seemed unfair if we were playing from armor.”

“Unfair to us, or you?” Etien asked, fiddling with her effects spread around her. She straightened her cup, refolded her scarf, fidgeted with her gloves.

“That depends. I hear you’re becoming a mean hand at cards these days.”

“I’m learning from the best,” she replied.

Haurchefant beamed as he sat down. “Would you like to shuffle, Etien?”

She nodded, scooping up the cards and shuffling them. “I didn’t intend to choose the game, one of you three can choose.”

She kept shuffling the deck as the Elezen debated the merits of a few common card games, or whether specific versions of the games were fair to play with someone who was still so new at the games themselves.

Eventually, they decided on one, and Etien passed the deck over to Haurchefant to cut. He tapped it. “I have no idea where you would have learned to count cards, so I think that won’t be necessary.”

She started to deal.

When she lost the first hand, she shrugged, popping open the clasp of her top, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it drape over the back of her chair.

She was more careful after that, cards close to her chest, playing with caution. And so a few hands passed by, hands she made it through with no trouble.

“I think I prefer this method,” Estinien commented, sipping at his drink while Aymeric tried to slip out of his coat gracefully while still seated. “I don’t lose any gil.”

“Good thing our clothing does not make the pot, then,” Aymeric responded.

Etien laughed softly. “it is, though I would love this,” she added, rubbing the blue material of the shed coat between her fingers. “So pretty. Is it comfortable?”

“I used to find it heavy,” he replied, attempting to be casual. “I have since gotten used to it. Are yours?”

“Comfortable enough. Not too heavy.” She gestured behind her, to the discarded boots. “Getting those on over the bottoms can be difficult, though.”

“It must keep your legs plenty protected,” Haurchefant commented, eyes on his cards. “I fear I must fold this hand.”

He kicked off his breeches, sitting down again. “What have we on, friends?”

Etien piped up first. “My undershirt and my field bottoms. And my socks. And my smalls, of course.”

“Good to know you wear them,” Estinien snorted, huffing harder when Aymeric elbowed him. “Ow. Breeches, gauntlets, my shirt. Everything under that.”

Haurchefant looked to Aymeric. “I still have everything on but my coat,” he responded.

“Guess that would mean you’re winning,” Etien said, draining her mug of port-and-chocolate.

“Certainly, because I would seem to be the least-dressed of us,” Haurchefant said, matter-of-fact. “Play on, friends! I shall watch eagerly.”

The trio laid their cards out.

“That would be impressive, Etien,” Estinien began, “but it doesn’t beat this four of a kind. Aymeric?”

“All I have is a straight.”

Etien stood, shimmying out of her bottoms and taking her seat again. “Who’s dealing now?”

“I’ll do it,” Aymeric said, holding his hand out for the cards. Everyone handed them over, and as he shuffled the deck, letting Etien cut it, Haurchefant stoked the fire.

“We cannot let her get cold, so unused to the Coerthan clime,” he explained, though he hadn’t needed to. All three of them could see Etien starting to shiver in only her shirt and tall wool socks.

Cards spread over the table, chatter accompanying them.

Just as everyone looked up from their cards, Aymeric happened to notice Etien’s ears flatten.

Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention before, but now that he had noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It was unfair to play cards with someone who, no matter how well she coached her facial expressions, would be given away by involuntary body language.

She clearly thought her hand wasn’t good enough to get her through the game still in her shirt. She was already shivering. Something had to be done.

“I-I fold,” he said.

“Surely your hand cannot be so bad that you would drop out immediately!” Haurchefant cried out.

“No, I assure you, it is,” he lied, standing and peeling away his shirt. That wasn’t so bad. It was like training.  Though usually he was a little warmer then...

He ignored the blush rising to his cheeks when he caught Etien’s eyes on him, but at least she looked a little more relieved. And it did serve to warm him.

When she, Estinien and Haurchefant laid their cards out, he scanned over them all before anyone had spoken.

Estinien’s three of a kind would have him losing those gauntlets, especially when Etien’s straight hand had only just edged him into last place.

Still, when she’d handed over her cards, Etien’s hands came to her upper arms, trying to rub some warmth back into them.

“Haurchefant, maybe we should end it here, I’m freezing.”

“One more?” he pleaded. “Besides, I think Aymeric has half a mind to keep you warm. Give her your coat,” he instructed, getting ready for a new hand.

Etien accepted the cards, tucking her tail under her leg and scratching at her ears, trying to disguise any movement they made.

So her sound thrashing with an utter bum hand of only Thordan-high had her sighing heavily, especially up against Haurchefant’s full house (including a pair of Flavien de Fortemps cards, no less), Estinien’s four of a kind, and Aymeric’s royal flush.

That flush became far more literal as Etien shrugged back his coat and her fingers curled around the hem of her shirt.  

She peeled it away, breaking into gooseflesh. “If we go much further than this, we really will be getting in trouble,” she said with a giggle.

“We… would do nothing of the sort,” Estinien replied. “I think I have had enough of cards. Seeing you like that is giving me a chill.”

He had found his voice, but Aymeric had not, eyes practically boring holes into the discarded cards strewn about the table.

Haurchefant was busying himself adding another log or two to the fire, and getting Etien something hot to drink. He had to get her warmed up again, at the very least. And so he occupied himself with that, even though he could tell from the growing tension in the room that he wasn’t only one who wanted to do so, though with very different method in mind.

And he had hoped this would spur Aymeric into action. Especially with how cute Etien looked, all curled up in his coat. She looked good in that shade of blue. Pity.

Haurchefant would just have to keep goading them, then.

[stxrcxller]

Writing for the first prompt of FFXIVwrite, Crux!

Crux

The decisive or most important point at issue

A particular point of difficulty

Spoilers for Heavensward ahead! c’:

The vault… They had made it through, made it past the defences. The young hero followed after the guards, skidding to a halt upon nearing the end of the airship’s landing. Hands clutched at her knees, clawed nails digging into fabric as she paused to catch her breath after all the running and fighting. Even while inviting air back into those burning lungs, she never took her mismatched gaze off of the Archbishop. Ears pinned back and tail lashing, the hero stared the old Elezen down like a hawk.

Her ears perked and twitched upon hearing her friends catching up, a soft whine bubbling in her throat as she saw Aymeric nursing his arm and staggering all the way. The Lord Commander called out to his father, and her ears picked up Haurchefant addressing her. The words were fuzzy, drowned out by blood and adrenaline rushing through every fiber of her being. Regardless, she nodded with a small smile.

The Miqo’te let out a hiss as Aymeric’s plea fell on deaf ears. She clutched a card to her breast, taking a few running steps towards the Archbishop.

It all happened so fast. Aether buzzed in the air, Haurchefant shouting her name and shoving her away.

The most important decision of the knight’s life.

The hero hissed softly, regaining her footing from being shoved aside all too late. Metal shattered and she saw pure, raw aether running through either side of the knight’s body. “No- NO!!” All sound around her became fuzzy background noise as she hurried to her friend’s side.

One hand pressed tight to his wound, the other being taken by a cold, armor-covered hand. She didn’t utter a word, unable to past the flood of tears that cascaded down her features. Eyes squeezed shut as she tried with all her might, begging and internally screaming at the heavens above for the spellpower needed to do this.

No matter how many spells she pulsed into that wound, it didn’t close. Couldn’t replace what the aether had taken.

It shouldn’t be this difficult…

I’ve healed wounds before…

Her eyes opened with a soft gasp as words around her finally registered. Of all the things- of all the things he wanted of her, it was to smile?! Why smile? Why wasn’t his request to end that damned Archbishop, or to pull some miracle and save him, or hells- even to just give final words to his own father! None of that was said, just the request to see her smile.

So smile she did. A very forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. Held in place by sheer force of will until the knight fell still and cold as ice. Then, she screamed. Clawed at her chest and arms until blood pooled and screamed. Saw her vision spotting black from lack of steady air and screamed. Dragged away by that damned dragoon and screamed. Fought him to get back and try again. Screamed until she couldn’t produce any more sound from burning lungs.

The rest of that dreaded day, she may as well have been as cold and still as their fallen knight.

[inviouswriting]

Saccharine

@bluespiritfire​ sent in Saccharine.

Kiya was visiting Lyhe Mheg, she had ran quests for the pixies when she took respite into the dream world. She visited the children of the world, till a group of miqo’te children approached her with a well worn out copy of the book Heavensward. Her eyes soften on the title, and remembered that this world is years ahead of the one she goes back home to.

“Is it true that there was once a white dragon that saved a child? And were there really knights as tall as trees?” One girl asked, while another finished asking questions. Kiya ponders a moment of how to answer.

“Of course there are, and yes it was true.” She answers with a smile, then an idea gets her.

“They’re alot like the elves here. Hold on I’ll return shortly!” Kiya races off back to Il Mheg.

“Feo Ul! Titania!?” Kiya calls out for her friend, and no sooner did she say their name did they appear before her.

“Yes, it is about time you called on me!”

“I know, I know!, I’m sorry. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Say the word and it shall be done.” The pixie smiles appearing tiny and flutters about Kiya’s head before resting on top of her head.

“My husband. I need to send him a message.”

“Another love letter perchance? Need help writing one?”

“Ah, not like that.” Kiya feels a tinge of red to her face. Feo Ul, tilts their head to the side a bit.

“I need to tell him to go to sleep. And perhaps... help bring him to Lyhe Mheg.”

“Ah! Say no more! We’ll get on it immediately!” Feo Ul, blinks out as fast as Kiya finishes her words. Kiya smiles to herself before running back to the dream world, to wait for him at the entrance.

It didn’t take much to get the elezen in question to heed his wife’s words to go to sleep. In fact he looked forward to that the most if it was her request, meant he’d see her.

The world is different than he last remembered it. No longer floating orbs in the sky, it is a world kids would dream of. Even he’d dream of this place. Saccharine.

Aymeric spies his beloved waiting near a candy house. Her back to him for once, and he goes up to her.

“Kiya?” He sees her turn and instantly light up in a smile. He lowers his eyes to her.

“You came, I’m so glad.” Kiya reaches her arms up towards him, and he meets her for a brief kiss. 

“How can I refuse when I get a bold letter saying “Go to Sleep!” on my desk.” Aymeric raises an eyebrow. Kiya’s face is a tinge of pink just slightly.

“Now, you wanted me here for something? Sounded so urgent.” 

“Indeed! Follow me! Please.” Kiya leads him by his hand, his left in hers as she drags him along. 

They approach a section where it was like a paw print in the ground. Where she told the children to sit and wait. As soon as these kids see Aymeric, their eyes light up bright. He was dressed in his regalia clothing.

“It’s him! The one from the book?” Aymeric stares over to Kiya who beams a smile towards the kids then to him, as they begin to promptly climb all over him. Aymeric regards his wife with a stare, until he sees the worn copy of the book Edmont had wrote of their ordeals as Heavensward. He softens his smile and kneels down.

“Aye, it is me. Ser Aymeric.” He confirms for these kids. There is excitement as some of the boys begin to look at the armor he wears, and the azure sword at his hip. Kiya stands back and lets them fawn over him. 

“He really is tall.” One of the young miqo’te girls hangs off an arm, and Aymeric keeps an arm to steady her. He has a look of joy to his eyes, and keeps giving glances over to Kiya. By the end, he has been knocked over at one point and pinned by a few of them. When he sits up one child hangs from the back of his neck.

“Is it also true you married Kiya?” They had found the ring on his left hand, Aymeric looks at it fond and over to his wife.

“Aye, it is true too. I am always happy to confirm that.” Kiya swishes her tail behind her in embarrassment for his words.

“Oh!? What kind of wedding did you two have? Was it a big one?”

“We had three weddings.”

“Why three?” 

“There were so many people that wanted to celebrate with us, and different traditions to keep. Our first one, was with our friends, surrounded by flowers and water in a beautiful garden. Our second was for Ishgard, a little more fancy, Kiya looked gorgeous in her gown we got married there on the first place we had said “I love you” at. Our third was for those of the realm who wanted to see us together.” As Aymeric explained, Kiya came closer to sit next to him.

The girls were more in awe, while the boys were growing restless. The children quickly ran off to do their own thing, giving the two a moment together. Aymeric lets Kiya rest her head against his shoulder while winding an arm around her.

“This was a pleasant dream for me as well.” He admits.

“I’m glad, they wanted to see a knight from the story. Forgive me. I knew only the best of them.” Kiya feels herself tugged into his arms and leaned back, with ice blue eyes staring into her eyes.

“No need to apologize, I’d be glad to do this again.” He lowers his head down to seal a kiss between them.

“Pray, come home soon love? I do get lonely without you at my side.” They exchange a nods and another kiss. Aymeric getting in a few more sweet ones with her. Their time coming to an end at least until she returns to him. She sees him out of the realm through the gate he was allowed in.

 Kiya hugs herself feeling a sense of warmth around her. 

“If only you know how much you have saved my life in.”

[ffxivimagines]

minific | congruence | SHB spoilers

Looking from his tattered copy of Heavensward to the portal and back again, the Crystal Exarch sighs.

They are no more a hero than he is a fool.

Ao3 Link

G’raha has read many accounts of the Warrior of Light’s exploits. It is still jarring to see them in person, many a year aged in countenance and even more so in health of mind and body, when all he reads is triumph. They snarl and snap and sigh with only the last of the three truly hurting him. He feels he is deserving of their anger and anxiety. That he would be the cause of such bone-deep fatigue… it is not a possibility he had quite entertained.

They are not quite how he remembers them and even less so how he reads of them—what with their heroism being a way of life rather than a simple act even when they drag their feet back to the Pendants only to depart after a mere bell of rest. How they do not strain to carry the weight of tomorrow and tomorrow on their shoulders with such virtuosity that he nearly mistakes the tremble in their hands for excitement and not terror. How he watches their eyes catch on drink in memory of a poisoning without choice vigilance but instead clear paranoia— because they are unbelievably real .

The Exarch wonders if they have read any of the stories he has. Maybe they try to be like what everyone expects. Maybe they preferred the outcome that snuffed them out early. Or maybe the accounts he keeps that include sightings of Primals summoned in their distorted image should be kept far from their hands, what with how fiercely they guard what of them they can keep private. G’raha fears them finding out through word of mouth and the not-so-tall-tales he shaped generations ago to keep hearts full of hope and children smiling.

(He is guilty of so many things, least of all spilling secrets in the form of false folklore because they feel easier to swallow than his feelings. He knows the tale of a sleeping king being awoken by a travelling warrior is too thin a veneer to not be seen through at a glance, even if it has become a favorite amongst children and romantics alike.)

He listens to them mutter things about this and not that and how Lyna needs to stop wearing holes in her boot soles, all the while pacing and sorting through crafting materials as if the process is dictated by afterthought. They weave and work with leather and even hammer out some new mugs and bowls (where they keep these variable setups is unknown, his view from the Ocular only showing flashes of crystalline light and interference before they settle down to handle a new piece).

He thinks it’s charming, even if they have a nasty furrow betwixt their brows. They care so much for everyone it is nearly impossible to not love them and he has always been a man of many vices. They are the greatest of them all.

He watches and listens and the guilt eats at him even when he says it is for their safety in the case the Light breaks loose once more. He watches and listens until their hands grind to a halt and they stare at the piece of half-drilled wood in their grip. It takes him a long moment before he realizes that they are crying and that realization only comes at the tail end of a choked off sob.

He has done this to them. Gods… this is all his fault.

What has he done?

But what else can he do if not sit pretty and send them off on more errands and missions and fetch quests come morning?

He made his grave and he would fain lie in it. T’would be more comfortable a bed than the bleached-out husk of the world threatening to drown him from beyond the Crystarium walls.

With a sweep of his staff, the viewing portal fizzles out. He breathes in slowly, the air stale on his tongue, and holds it. Technically, he does not inherently need to breathe. The crystal arcing outward from his arm is proof enough, spidering veins shimmering and stretching like skin even as they chill all that surrounds them, and he wonders if the pains he experiences from crystal slowly spreading through bone is anything like the Light they hold inside.

He should be watching them now, of all times. They are liable to lose their tenuous grasp on wholeness when emotions overwhelm them. Anyone would. He knows it is a fit of madness that made him place a hand on the Tower and demand its might. He hopes they are not driven to such desperation.

Puttering around, he nearly trips over a couple misplaced tomes moved out of storage. He stares at Heavensward. Shoulders drooping and ears following suit, he picks it up from the floor.

This is no time for reading, he tells himself, hands long since familiar with the cover tracing the worn down embossing. He flicks open to the note, something more personal than auspicious, and wonders what it is Count Edmont had seen of them to feel compelled to say, “In memoriam of my children, both of blood and of oath. May Halone guide you to her halls.”

That they were close enough to him to be considered family—and what sons had perished in the wake of the calamity? There are a good few pages left out between their storming of the Vault and Thordan’s demise, the original memoir bearing some carefully cut sections again after the initial sweep of Black Rose—is not something he would have guessed if hearing the stories by word of mouth.

He knows the Warrior of Light died. He knows because he saw their grave and the pile of soulstones left behind because Hydaelyn herself had swept all of their aether back to her bosom to leave behind only what she could not grasp. Their grave is full of baubles. Half-finished crafts. Old tomes. The outfits Tataru made them over the years. Flags from city states and rebellions. The shattered bit of a katana nobody needs to name because it comes wrapped in cloth cut from a crown prince’s regalia.

He had sifted through what was preserved and then─then he found their soulstones. Sitting in a small pile, the stones were tucked between a stubbornly shut music box and a few journals. They were in no way lonely, not a speck of dust to be seen, and whispered in tongues how he could simply take them in hand and Listen. They would tell him of the person he wishes to see.

He did not. He refused to. Or, well, up to the point that the Tower shook with tremors and he allowed himself one solitary moment of weakness.

He takes hold of the smooth, near pearlescent one whose perch on the top of the pile could not have been a coincidence, and watches as the Warrior of Light’s hands rest over his. They whisper in his ear, patient and diaphanous, with words that are no more sound than they are an idea. The transferring of energy, the fracturing of a whole, worlds and being made one so strongly that they would never shatter.

Crystal had consumed him, that day, and he woke on the First with the blue of his arm having spilled from forearm to shoulder and past the bulwark of his heart and lungs.

The memory aches. It eats at him even now, centuries down the line and in possession of his wits. He places Heavensward atop a pile of his favorites, sits down, and opens the portal again.

Staring at the Warrior of Light, the last hope for a dying world, as they lay on the floor and cry softly into the wood… feels soothing. He looks to Heavensward again and then back to the portal. He sighs. His crystal arm seeps cold through his robes.

They are no more a hero than he is a fool, but at least they can be incongruous together.

[itwasalwaysjustred]

prompt #029 - parental

No pairings; it’s a little too late for fathers but perhaps not too late for father figures

Content Warnings: Heavensward Spoilers

It happens, he concludes, quite by accident on Edmont's part. 

They've grown closer in their time together in Ishgard, no longer simply head of the house tolerating the presence of his son's questionable choice in friends. Nhagi'li had thought the opposite would happen, what with how things ended up for them at the Vault, but Edmont has proven time and time again that he is more than just a stuffy Ishgardian nobleman who cannot see far past the end of his nose. He is patient with Nhagi'li, and kinder than he deserves, taking time to visit him and speak with him whenever he has the chance. The Keeper knows he must be a very busy man, and yet he still seeks him out, like he finds something enjoyable about his company. Perhaps it is because Nhagi'li is a fresh new face, but a part of him suspects there is something more going on than just his novelty. 

(There is this conveniently son-shaped hole that's been made in Edmont's life, after the death of Haurchefant, but Nhagi'li tries not to think about that as much as possible. He can never, nor would ever want to, replace Haurchefant for anyone.) 

Regardless of his wishes, it quickly becomes abundantly clear that Edmont considers him more than just a guest, and it is during one of their after dinner talks in front of the fire that everything comes to a head. Nhagi'li barely remembers what he said, only knows that it made Edmont swell with a fierce kind of pride in his eyes, and then the Elezen was reaching out to ruffle his hair. He seems to realize what he's doing the moment Nhagi'li's ears twich near his gloved fingers and he freezes, his nobleman's poise the only thing that keeps him from making a fool of himself by jerking his hand away. Nhagi'li, too, goes very still, peering up at Edmont from beneath his bangs. 

When the count's face betrays nothing, he casts a questioning look at Artoirel, trying to discern the meaning behind the touch. It doesn't feel like it's meant to be a negative thing, but Nhagi'li doesn't possess much, if any, experience in this area. In truth, he's not even sure how he's supposed to respond. This is a good touch, right? But is it going to upset Edmont's sons? He'd always gotten the feeling his presence hadn't been appreciated by the other two young men, even though that too had changed in recent months. Still, this is very new territory, and he doesn't want to impose on the Fortemps household any more than he already has. 

Artoirel gives him a little nod, but the moment has passed. "I hope your father is very proud of you," Edmont says after clearing his throat, drawing his hand away and placing it behind his back. The space where it once rested still tingles, and Nhagi'li can't decide if he likes the feeling or not. He settles for deflection, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind in the most blasé tone he can manage. 

"Doubt he even knows I exist, but it's a nice thought."

He scratches idly at the scar on his chin, only belatedly realizing the can of worms he's opened by the expression on Emmanellain's face. (Gods, that boy is too expressive for a nobleman. He really needs to work on his poker face.)

"I didn't even know the guy. It's not a big loss. Really." He's not being untruthful, really he isn't, but he can practically smell the skepticism coming in waves off of Edmont's sons. It makes his tail twitch against his thigh, and as he opens his mouth to defend himself again Edmont gently clears his throat. 

"Be that as it may... I hope that I am not overstepping when I say that I am proud of you, and all that you have done. For this family and Ishgard both.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts Nhagi’li to the quick and he forces himself to smile and accept the praise like it’s his due, like it doesn’t making something warm and fuzzy curl around his insides, like he doesn’t want to start purring. He doubts that Edmont can read the faintest wiggle of his ears, but something about the fondness in the old Elezen’s expression tells him that he knows how important his words are all the same. 

It’s a little late for fathers, but perhaps it isn’t too late for father figures after all. 

[aspected-benefic]

Prompt #5: Vault

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

As elders often said to the younger folk, "You haven't lived long enough." More in the context of, what Ash had assumed, to be about one's knowledge of life. Despite these heeded warnings, however, Ash felt as though he had lived just long enough to see patterns in behaviours and situations.

One lesson Ash had learned to take to heart since day 1: expect the unexpected.

One moment, Ash Lawrence had been on a leisurely stroll. Quiet, tranquil, nothing but a crisp breeze and the sound of the ocean waves to accompany him. The next thing he knew, he had jumped into the fray of a wild bandit case. Ash's starting contribution? A precise and well-timed shot to the back of one bandit's feet. Said ruffian crashed to the ground, curled up and wincing in pain. While some of the yellowjackets proceeded in bounding up their pray, the other three with their leader included already made off in the grand distance.

"Apologies for getting you caught up in this mess, adventurer," said one of the yellowjackets, "but thanks for yer help all the same."

"Save your thanks until after we catch them." said Ash.

Rather than attack blindly, Ash fell upon his natural instincts and first surveyed the situation and area. One large ruffian in the middle and two gangly, lesser dressed minions on either side. It didn't take a genius to guess that the one in the middle was the target in question. Still, judging by the fact that a couple of the yellowjackets had taken their time to apprehend the injured bandit, the entire gang was the target. Not just the leader. A network, most likely. Ash wouldn't have been surprised if this motley crew had some more hands hiding in the wakes. On top of all this, with the unfortunate positioning of the guards in front of Ash and not the way around, the machinist would most likely fire an accidental few rounds of friendly fire. Standing and aiming was one thing. Running and aiming? Another.

The bandits veered around into civilization. Ash's instincts had proven correct. Not only did the bandits have more options to hide from the plethora of narrow alleyways, had this group possessed more hands in the making, Ash and his his escort of authorities would have an ambush waiting for them. To make matters worse, ever since the bandits lost one of their own, the remaining few suddenly gained newfound speed. Ash waved his hands to summon the wind around him and his allies - an ability he had learned as a Bard. Yet, the bandits had a head start and soon, just as Ash had predicted, both Ash and the company he was with lost sight of their targets.

But not for long.

"Over there!" One of the guards pointed to a narrow alleyway.

To think that these order of events moved just as Ash had anticipated. Predictably so.

And in another predictable moment, just as Ash and the yellowjackets veered around the corner, they caught sight of the bandits, only to see the last of them crawl over a tall, conveniently placed wall. Ash fired at the bandit, but his bullet collided not with his intended target, but the tail end of a rope, which slunk over the top of the wall and beyond.

The yellowjackets came to a halt. The roegadyn marauder clicked his tongue. "Dammit!" he growled. He attempted to scale the wall, but without any significant ledges atop its smooth, brick surface, and with the buildings on either side too far from each other, scaling without a rope was no option.

"Is there any way we can get around this wall?" Ash asked.

The miqo'te yellowjacket - the one who had pointed out the alleway - shook her head. "Repairs be goin' on here. 'n they knew it. Th' only way around be all th' way around th' damn lot, 'n by th' time we do that, they'd be sailin' off into th' great beyond."

Ash looked up at the wall. At least twelve yalms high. No way the group could scale the wall in time. The bandits had predicted this much of course as indicated by the rope. And, in ordnance with the law of the unlucky, all options had been blocked off.

Or, so everyone thought. One option remained: one that Ash thought he would never have to consider again.

He could... jump over the wall.

No...

Ash felt his body twitch. He felt his chest tighten and his heart beat faster. His mind flooded his senses with memories of times before. The past... the father that never looked his way... his failures, his inadequacies...

I put that life behind me. This is my life now. The way of the firearms. I don't deserve to go back to that life, I-

Then suddenly, his fear stopped.

It was as though time around him slowed down to a crawl. All the nervousness, the tension, the hesitation vanished as he felt a blanket of calmness envelop him. For the first time in a long time, Ash had no dots to connect - no trail of patterns and behaviours to follow. Not even a logical reason to what he now felt. Like his mind, which had tried to move into several different directions at once, now all alined to one path straight ahead of him.

Ever since that fated day, I vowed never to run away ever again. If my childish hesitation causes everything to fall to the wayside, I dare not live with myself. There are still things I can do. I can do this.

As though his body had already known what he wanted to do before he had made up his mind, Ash found himself leaned forward and crouched to the ground. His firearm gently brushed against the concrete ground. He took one last deep breath. 'Perhaps there is something in this mess that I can predict: the past does indeed catch up to you, doesn't it?'

He raised his head upwards, not at the obstacle in front of him, but to the skies far above the wall. With no more mental barriers left to stop him, he vaulted into the air.

The wind scorched across his face, a sensation he hadn't experienced in what felt like forever. He soared over the wall and still moved on. Everything below him looked so small - the yellowjackets, the brick floor...

... and the bandits.

Once the trio saw a looming shadow above them, their eyes grew wide and they froze in place, unable to comprehend the image of a machinist sailing over their heads like a flying acrobat or a vaulter.

No, like a dragoon.

Their moment's hesitation was all Ash needed. While still overhead the trio, Ash aimed his firearm directly at them. In rapid succession, the bullets found their marks. The bandits hands now freed of their weapons. Their shoulder blades pierced with hot metal. And when Ash landed near to them, all he needed to do was stand there and aim his firearm at whoever moved until the yellowjackets finally came on scene with more of their members in tow.

As the yellowjackets cuffed and carted off the remaining bandits, the roegadyn and miqo'te who Ash had accompanied stayed behind with the hyur.

"The last time I saw anythin' or anyone go flyin' like that, I shot a cannonball with 12 onzes of gunpowder!" chirped the roegadyn. "Ye ain't hiding any of that in yer boots, are you?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Just some good old fashioned socks." said Ash.

The miqo'te snapped her fingers. "No wonder that accent of yers sounded familiar. Yer from that cold place up in nowhere, ain't ya? Don't they have those... dragoon people there?"

Ash paused. "Yes, yes they do."

The miqo'te looked as though she was about to elaborate, but like her roegadyn comerade, they got called away. The two yellowjackets waved goodbye to Ash, who waved back at them in return until they vanished into the distance. Once they left, Ash exhaled. Closing his eyes, he chuckled to himself. Funny how he often dismissed the wisdom of his elders until experiencing their words for himself. They were truly correct; Ash suddenly felt as though he hadn't lived long enough.

"What will I do now...?" he muttered.

((Entries 2 and 3 were from Ash’s canon story way back in Heavensward. I imagine this one to take place around the Stormblood or Shadowbringers time. So a lot of time has passed since then and now. X3 ))

[0bsidian5ire]

The One Who Commands the Gods: Chapter 1

Summary: Out of all the things you've done as a Summoner, fighting with a Garlean Legatus over what type of control one can have over eikons is certainly one of the weirder ones. Fortunately, the Allagans (and therefore you) have far more experience with eikons then he does. And then there's the fact that Bahamut and the rest of the eikons you know would really like Shinryu to stop copying them and do something original for once...

Originally posted here.

Chapter 1: To Kill an Eikon

There are times being a summoner is annoying. Over time, you've learned to not have the egis of well-known eikons summoned in major cities (The Warring Triad, nobody has a problem with). Ever since you preformed the austerities, you've heard the eikons in your head, and they often make more sense to you then normal people do (you're all beholden to other people's wishes, if simply because no one else could ever hope to do something). You'll never tell the Scions what you're actually doing when you enter the Dreadwrym Trance (except Urianger; he understands unsafe magics, and Ascians and using one against the other). And well... the less said about the first time you cast Teraflare in full view of everyone, the better (Alphinaud and Alisaie didn't speak to you for a week afterwards). So yes, being a summoner often lands you in awkward situations.

Standing in the Royal Menagerie before Zenos and the Omega-bound Shinryu is definitely one of those times. Bahamut roars within you and you know what it is to be curled up in that cage. Wings pressed tight against tail which curls around horns which scrape against claws which can't claw out! The Warring Triad rouse in response and for a moment you know what it is to be caged earth-wind-thunder-fire-ice. Stop it! you roar back, before Ifrit, Titian and Garuda can bring up the memory of Ultima Weapon. We'll get him out. You'll also send him on to the Lifestream and gain his aether, but by this time the eikons know not to argue with you. The fact that you have a tendency to address the very issues that caused them to be summoned in the first place helps immensely.

The only thing standing in your way is Zenos yae Galvus and you know he is weak. Or rather, Ifrit knows. Zenos may be an inferno, one that surprised you in its ferocity, but he's never been though a true inferno himself. It's obvious from the way he began melting into dross when your own tempered power (no, not that kind of Tempered) was finally a match for his. Now all that remains is to let that dross burn away.

You take your attention off of Shinryu to focus on Zenos. He's monologuing again, and obviously thinks he knows what you were doing. "...you are the true architect of our design. You who fought the very soul of vengeance to the edge and watched him fall; you who let slip the Allagan hound to drive this eikon into my arms!"

You nearly laugh. Between Bahamut, Sephirot, Sophia and Zurven you knew exactly what monster Nero was releasing. It wasn't like you could tell anyone what it was without some very long and damning explanations. That and there was no way to get into Shinryu's core like with Bahamut. You do hope Nero appreciates that the only thing you did to him afterwards was make off with his Red Baron; Bahamut really wanted (still wants) you to let him know what the full might of your Dreadwrym Trance feels like.

"...Forgive me, this... sensation is wholly unfamiliar to me." Zenos continues. "A question, then--and I should like very much for you to speak from the heart. If I were to stand aside, what would you do to this eikon?"

Now you really do laugh. "Kill it. Obviously." How else are you supposed to let its aether wash over you?

Zenos looks almost disappointed. "And here I thought you were different. Come now. You obviously have some power over the eikons; you wield their powers nearly as easily as you do your own." He eyes the Titian-Egi that looks like Sephirot-Egi hovering at your side. "How could you hope to bind them to you if they have been slain?"

"Oh please," you scoff. "Since when did killing an eikon and binding it to yourself have to be mutually exclusive?" For that matter, what surer way to gain an eikon's power then to pattern your own aether so closely after an eikon's aether that there is barely any difference between the two?

Zenos raises an eyebrow. "Then I suppose your never did master your abilities?"

You raise an eyebrow back. "What?" You're pretty sure that at this point you are inventing as many new techniques as you are learning them.

The look of disappointment is back. "I speak of the Echo, of course." Zenos looks you in the eye. "Does it merely render you immune to eikonic influence? or is it rather that your influence is far greater then theirs?"

Your jaw almost drops and you find you can't look away from him. All the eikons' presence in the Lifestream is riveted on you (not that it usually isn't anyway) and your internal response. You've never even thought of trying something like that. Why go though all that trouble of wrestling with the Echo when the Allagan summoning arts are so much more reliable and allow you to have plenty of influence as it is? Even if you did know how to have that much influence, you wouldn't use it in that way. You have too many nightmares of looking out of nurolinks, internment hulks and the Ultima Weapon to want that for someone else, even an eikon.

Zenos plows on. "When I read van Baelsar's reports, I immediately saw the boundless potential of the Echo. I saw how it could be instrumental in binding an eikon to one's will. Hence my research and the Resonant--and oh so much more!" You don't let on how much what he could be researching scares you. The eikons know though; they've seen you pour over Allagan research and know you don't see a difference between what Allag did and what you found in Castrum Abania. On and on Zenos goes. Apparently someone in Garlemald knows the danger the eikons really bring. From your experience, most don't.

Garuda's cackles bring you out of your musings. Madness! she shrieks. He calls for the reckoning! Will we indulge him!?

Yes! Ravana answers back. He claims he knows the glory to be found in combat! Let us test him! The rest of the eikons you defeated join in his sentiment in the back of your mind.

It warms your heart to know that they are including you with them. What they really mean is that they'd rather you send them on to the Lifestream when you find them then face imprisonment again. And Zenos has only ever imprisoned people in his own perception of them.

Which is what he's doing to you right now. "...you understand this. You and I are one and the same. Together, we could while away the quiet hours, as a friend and confidant... if you will accept me."

You refuse him easily. "No, I've never understood where you're coming from." Violence has only ever been the means to an end for you. Whether that be freeing people (Eorzean, beastman, eikon, it doesn't matter) or winning the respect of your faithful egis.

Zenos laughs. "... and yet, in doing so, you prove me right. We are warriors. 'Twas plain from the first how it would end." He's right of course, but not for the reasons he thinks. "You live for these moments--when all hangs in the balance... when the difference between life and death is but a single stroke." He reminds you of Garuda before the Ultima Weapon caught her; so drunk on his own power that he can't see another outcome then the one he knows will happen. "I live for them too! This is who we are, my friend! This is all we are! Ala Mhigo and Doma and Garlemald be damned!" He lifts Ame-no-Habakiri up and slices though one of the vertices of the Omega-prison.

It splits in two and Shinryu uncoils himself from the confines. Aether streams from his jaws in an effort to temper you and Zenos, to no avail. "We tower above the gods!" Zenos shouts at you through the aether. "You by your gift, I by my might! And before the resonant the gods shall be made to kneel!" Red-black aether rolls off of Zenos and onto Shinryu. It curls around the eikon and burrows into him before rushing out in a huge shockwave that nearly knocks you over. When you look again, Zenos is nowhere to be seen and Shinryu has a huge crystal growth on his chest with Zenos inside of it. "An ending to mark a new beginning!" the eikon roars in Zenos' voice. Instead of the golden red it used to be, Shinryu's aether is a sickly green. It's one of the worst things you've seen happen to an eikon since you saw Ultima Weapon devour Ifrit, Titian and Garuda.

It's also one of the stupidest things Zenos could have done. I knew he was deserving of judgment before this, Rahmu thunders, but this is nothing but foolishness on his part. You have to agree. Zenos could have bested you before as a man and there are men, Garleans even, you have refused to kill before. But as an eikion? There is nothing you are better at fighting, no eikon you have not sent on to the Lifestream, no eikon who's power you have not earned the right to wield. If there was any doubt you would triumph in this last fight, it is gone now.

You run away from the palace, looking for some place that is large enough to bear the force of a eikon. The entire time you're talking to the eikons in your head and trying to remember what Shinryu's aether felt like when he tried to temper you. It's a weird aether, and you don't know what elements it is. The fact that Nidhogg's aether is mixed in with it is not helping. Louisoix interrupts, which is rare for him; he's never approved of what you did with the Dreadwrym Trance, much less that you have no qualms about summoning Demi-Bahamut. I take it none of us want to deal with Zenos on a permanent basis? Dealing with the Heavensward is taxing enough.

There's an instinctive recoil from everyone, even the Heavensward. The Heavensward are the ekions which still hate you the most.

Nay, we do not. Ysayle pauses in thought. Zenos is only in control of Shinryu. He is not bound to him as you, I and the Heavensward were were bound to our primals before they were sent on to the Lifestream. So long as Shinryu is sent on first, that should not change.

So avoid damaging that crystal growth then? you ask.

Yes, Louisoix says. I believe the reason why Shinryu's aether is so hard to pin down is because it is comprised of more aspects of aether then you are used to sensing in a primal. With that, the regenerating fire of the Phoenix burns down to mere coals.

Shinryu's tail crashes down on the walkway behind you, reminding you of what you need to finish. You turn to look if you can go back, only to find you are stranded on top of a pillar of marble far from the palace. Beside you is Sephirot-Egi. In front of you is Shinryu, wings unfurled, teeth bared and tail swishing behind him like a coeurl. It's good enough. Everyone ready? you ask as you pull out Lemegeton, the most complete collection of Allagan summoning rituals you have found.

Thou sayest Shinryu is modeled in our image! Bahamut roars. Only I am the true judge of that! We shalt test him! And you do.

It immediately becomes apparent that while Ilberd did know how to make an eikon, he had very little knowledge of magical theory. No sooner do you cast Tri-Disaster at Shinryu does Leviathan call out, Tidal Wave! You look behind you and run into the wall of water that sprang into existence. It pushes you toward Shinryu, and you finally get a feel for his aether.

He didn't, Zurven crackles.

He did, you shout back as you dodge around a puddle of water left on the floor. Ilberd really did make Shinryu aspected to all the major magical elements. At least it majorly simplifies things.

At first glance, having an eikon aspected to all the the major elements seems like a good idea. Theoretically, it can attack with all the elements and can absorb them all as well. Practically, it leaves a lot to be desired. Shinryu may be able to attack with all six elements, but each element has only one or two attacks each. It ends up making him much more predictable then he otherwise would be. The eikons with the most complete knowledge of their element are the ones with only one elemental aspect. There are still few things you remember being more terrifying then realizing the first six elemental eikons you fought did things with their elements you didn't think possible. The ones with two elemental aspects often blended them together in new ways, but when they used their elelments singularly, they didn't have that level of mastery. For better or worse, Shinryu has only been able to use one element at a time. He also only seems to use abilities the other eikons have used and only when his aether becomes dangerously over-aspected.

Or it might be Zenos' influence. Whatever the Resonance is, you highly doubt advanced magical theory is something it provides; the Echo doesn't after all.

Well, whoever is in control could certainly be more creative, you grumble at Bahamut. You're half-joking. The most terrifying use of elemental aether you've ever seen was at Bahamut's hand. Or rather, the most terrifying use of aether, period. Tiamat was no fool when she created an eikon in Bahamut's image and gave him only one elemental aspect, that of fire. Only instead of Ifrit's meager Forging Fire or Louisoix's regenerating Fire of Rebirth, Bahamut's fire is the Stellar Fire that fuels the sun. And Tiamat gave him the strength and creativity to take full advantage of it. That's when Shinryu takes a page out of Bahamut's book and combines the elements to cast a black Ahk Morn on you.

Thou art correct! Bahamut roars. Thou shalt show him what a true circle of death looks like!

With that, your aether fully attunes to his and for a few precious seconds, the biggest difference between your aether and the Dreadwrym's is the amount of it that can be used at once. Your power is greater, your spells more efficient, the efficiency of the geometries you can calculate infinitely amplified. You pour the strength of your trance into one of your favorite geometries, (x-π)2+(y-Φ)2=02, better known as Deathflare, and release it. Pure aether shoots up through Shinryu and briefly reduces all the aether in its path to nothing. He roars in true pain before flying away.

Globs of aether rain down in Shinryu's wake and crack open to reveal dragons as misshapen and warped as he is. There are many, too many for you to take care of on your own. "Sephirot, cast Ein Sof Ohr!" you make out. The egi does and wind and earth aether grow into a field of life energy. Energy that heals you and strangles the non-life out of the dragons. Again the globs of aether come down and again dragons come out of them. There's only one thing you know of that can take them all out now: Teraflare.

Sephirot-Egi places a shield of rock and wind around you and you dig down into that reservoir of aether most mages know better then to touch. It's the last limit you have, the difference between being being merely tired and aether starvation, but Teraflare costs more aether then you can cast all at once and you need it now. You take all that aether and bring it into the trance with you. Your aether explodes into the form of the Dreadwrym and if anyone was to see your aether now, you're sure they'd think you'd done the same thing with Bahamut as Ysayle did with Shiva.

For Teraflare is like Deathflare. It can only be cast when your aether is a perfect match for Bahamut's. Unlike Deathflare, it is no simple circle of death. Instead, Teraflare is you diffracting your aether a trillion times larger as if though a giant lens. The amount of the energy you end up producing is monstrous.

For mere moments, it is as if a monster does live within your skin. You are at Carteanaeu again, but you are flying up above it, your wings free for the first time in millennia. You take the store of aether you have and refract it through the geometry of (-(1012)-1) * (-1/Φ-1/π)=1012. Teraflare screams down around you and everything it hits is punctured though with a trillion laser-fast lines of aether. The dragons don't die so much as they disintegrate.

When you come back to yourself, the platform is clear of enemies and Shinryu is before you again. Aether streams from him and begins to coalesce into a star. Sephirot-Egi barely shields you in time before the sickly green aether of the Resonance coils around and fits itself against your aether's vibrations, locking you in place.

Fury fills you. You have seen what it is to be trapped though the eikon's memories, but not like this. Not in nothing but a twist of someone's aether. It's not even like what tempering is; that at least robs its victims of the knowledge they should want something else. Zenos wants you to know he's trapped you. You can feel his delight in the aether surrounding you. Instinctively, you take your fury and shove it against the aether surrounding you. You are not going to let him win here. Not with power not his own anyway. The aether of the Resonance vibrates out of phase with yours and you push again. The two different types of aether grind against each other and you bring all the aetherial force you can muster down onto the Resonance. It shears apart and leaves you gasping on the floor. But Shinryu is gone.

Where is he? you shout, hoping someone saw.

Bismark is the first to find him. In the clouds below you. He's coming up fast.

There's just enough time to get your bearings before Shinryu rams up through the walkway you're standing on. You manage to hold on to one of his scales as he flies up toward the mass of aether-clouds that now surround the star he created.

So that is the Resonance. Bahamut's fury stokes your own. Where Allag usest metal and lightning, he usest aether. I knowest how this ends, Channeler. Summon me! It will not come to pass, not again.

Before you can answer, Shinryu corkscrews over a platform in the aether-clouds. You lose your grip and fall to the platform and barely manage to dodge Shinryu's dive-bomb. Alright, let's see how he likes fighting against you. You've accumulated enough Dreadwrym aether now anyway; it would be waste not to use it. And you love using Dreadwyrm aether.

In theory, summoning Bahamut goes against everything the Scions stand for. There simply isn't any getting around the fact that you are calling on a power higher then yourself to strike down your enemies. Only instead of calling Bahamut out of the Lifestream, you call him out of your own aether and power him with the Dreadwyrm aether produced in the Trance and the aether of your egi. In practice (and the Allagans were all about practice), it's no different then any other magic that makes use of your own aether. The result is a short-lived version of the eikon you base your Trance on that can't consume aether. Instead of merely being the essence of Bahamut given form, it is Bahamut, if one with partial skills. There's a reason you call him Demi-Bahamut and not Bahamut-Egi after all.

Demi-Bahamut coalesces out of your aether and blasts Shinyu with Ahk Morn on your command. Enslaver! Defiler! Wyrmwave after Wyrmwave follows in time with your own attacks. Your memory willt fade into the aether beyond recall!

Fighting with Demi-Bahamut is nothing like fighting with an egi. There is too much personality and no fine-tuned control. Like all the eikons, Demi-Bahamut does what he wants even when it is filtered though the desires of the person who summoned him. Fortunately, the only thing you have ever wanted him for is the extra firepower and Bahamut never has a problem with providing that. He's got a lot of (justified) wrath to get out and being summoned for few moments each fight to rage against something is better then never being summoned at all.

It takes one more Ahk Morn for the aether that makes up Demi-Bahamut to be spent. The demi-eikon collapses back into Sephirot-Egi and Bahamut is back where he belongs. By this time, your aether has attuned to his again and the cycle of trancing into summoning starts all over again.

As the fight drags on, something becomes apparent. Shinryu is modeled after the strength Bahamut displayed when he broke out of Dalamud. You might have grown far stronger then you were when you faced down Bahamut, but you never actually faced him the way you're facing Shinryu now. Instead you faced Bahamut in the eikon's literal heart, his corona. This feels about the same. Shinryu is far weaker then Bahamut was and you've got a feeling you know why. You didn't happen to be about this strong when you first manifested, were you? you ask Bahamut.

Perhaps that is the case. I gorge on the sun's aether for eras! He does not have that chance.

It's as good a confirmation as you will get. Whatever the case, Shinryu is incorporating more of his body into the fight then he used to. You dodge around his claws several times and he even tries to flatten you with his tail. It turns out he really doesn't like getting hit there, especially when it's Demi-Bahamut that's doing the hitting. He also starts bringing out other attacks, but all of them are ones the eikons within you have used before and the eikons he's copying enjoy letting you know what attacks he's using.

Finally, aether starts leaking out of Shinryu. Cracks start appearing and you finally get the opportunity to aim Deathflare at the corona buried deep in the eikon's chest. The aether making up Shinryu shudders before all of it, including the crystal Zenos is in, explodes outward. You eagerly reach out and absorb all the aether you can for later before looking for Zenos. He is falling out of Shinryu's cloud. You decided to take the saner route back and form a Warring Laner construct out of Sephirot's aether. It has no combat capabilities, but it is capable of carrying you back down to the Royal Menagerie.

I was honestly expecting more, you tell the rest of the ekions on your flight down.

Our forms depend on the beings calling on us. Many of us are based on beings that actually existed and are expected to have the same capacities they did. Ilberd hadst no such being in mind and only wanted power in abundance. Bahamut laughs. He wouldst do better to create an eikon in thy image!

Yeah, Bahamut. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? You shudder at the thought and hope nobody ever tries that. Given the types of people most of the eikons are based on though, it is very likely that someone will eventually make the attempt.

Zenos plows into the ground right as you land. Before you can finish it, Lyse and Alphinaud arrive on the scene. "Are you all right!?" Lyse asks you. "We all saw Teraflare and..."

You nod. "I'm fine. Tired, but fine. It's nothing a little sleep won't take care of." You hope so anyway. Aether exhaustion will drive you to sleep like nothing else will, but the nightmares often mean it isn't as long as it should be. Hopefully the memory of being chained in the Resonance won't be among them.

Alphinaud gives you that searching look he always gives you whenever anything to do with Bahamut comes up. Lyse's attention is already elsewhere. "Zenos!" she shouts, fists clenched and teeth bared.

Zenos struggles to his feet and laughs in her face. "The hunter has indeed become the hunted. And yet... there is only joy. Transcendent joy that I have never known. How invigorating, how... pure, this feeling."

Lyse looks at him in a mix of horror and disgust. "Is that what this was all about? All the meaningless death and destruction? So you could feel something?" It's obvious that she does not, can not, understand.

You can't understand either. The very reason why you take action is because you feel (and hear and think). The eikons are no different for all that their feelings originally came from someone else. It's one of the main reasons you can even begin to understand them.

Naturally, Zenos mistakes what Lyse is outraged about. "Meaningless? Men die that others may live. Those who survive are stronger for it." It's the only thing you might agree with him on. "Not that you could ever understand. To have stood upon this great stage of fools... to have played my part to perfection..." He is holding Ame-no-Habakiri now. "Oh, this... this moment... let it be enshrined in eternity." Zenos places the edge of the katana on his neck. "My heart... beating out of time... So clear, so vivid, so real... So real." He slices.

"Coward!" Alphinaud cries out.

Lyse rushes forward. "Stop!"

Mid-slice, so fast that only the Echo can see it, Zenos catches your eye. "Farewell, my first friend. My enemy." Blood pours from his neck and Zenos crumples. This time, for good.

Balance has been restored! Sophia pronounces and you feel the rest of the eikons sigh in relief as the world tilts at the death of one who seeks to control them by force.

You sigh in relief as well, even though you feel uncomfortable when faced with Zenos' last words. You know what it is to make friends, or at least allies, out of your enemies. At its heart, that is what Summoning is.

It it different, Titan rumbles over you, his protective inclinations coming to the forefront. He did not wish to know thy own interests. Not only do thy desire to know ours, but thee hast done something about them when it is profitable for the both of us. Titan's words are a bulwark against your nagging doubts the way a cave is against wind and rain.

It looks like Raubahn and Hein have done the same for Lyse. "...You're right. Thank you." She turns to all of you. She's smiling now. "Without you... Well...you know." You all snicker. The after-battle relief is starting to hit. "So let's do it together. For Ala Mhigo!" She leads you all over to the balcony to proclaim victory.

Behind Lyse, you lean against Sephirot-Egi and take a deep breath. Zenos won't be threatening you again and you've got another eikon's power to experiment with. It's been a good day.

Author's Notes: This entire thing was inspired when Zenos gives the WoL a choice about a primal and I looked at my Job and the choices presented and wondered why I couldn't pick both as the two choices aren't always mutually exclusive for Summoners. Somehow it ballooned into a lot of headcanon and theorycraft on Summoner... go figure, I'm a total nerd...

I couldn't find any lore behind Demi-Bahamut anywhere so I made something up. The idea behind a "demi-eikon" came from wondering if there was anything that would piss the Ascians off more then a summoning method that didn't put strain on Hydalen. Going by the lore book, one of the reasons the Allagans turned on the Summoners was that they thought the Summoners were being influenced by what they were summoning. I just took the idea and ran with it.

Yes, I really did come up with some math for Deathflare and Teraflare. π is the symbol for Pi, which is the key raito for calculating the circumference of a circle. Φ is the symbol for the Golden Ratio which has a lot of fun geometry applications. I figured both would be pretty important for a magic system that is based on math and geometry. The math for Deathflare is the normal circle formula, but it is a "dead" circle whose radius is zero. Teraflare's math is based on the Thin Lens formula.

Ch 2: To Bind an Eikon →