#vesnaint

[crystallineconflict]

bijou elusive jump misadventures.png (tysm to my friend oli for the art hehe)

[cornunut]

some moments from before the ward (for most of them)

[lunarosewood23]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 2: Bark

Set a little after 3.0 in the Forelands. Raven laments over her talons and remembers those lost.

CW: Mentions of Death, Mourning

Word Count: 673

~~~

It had been harder to hold pens and other writing instruments since her inheritance awakened.

Raven stared down at the black talons that extended from her fingers, her once blunt nails that she would bite on when anxious turned into long claws, a permanent mark of what Nidhogg’s blood had done to her. She couldn’t really make a proper fist, though she damn well tried on several occasions, and she needed to learn how to get used to a pen in her hand again.

Still, Raven felt a need to make it to where those lost on Azys Lla were remembered. Their names etched into something to signify that they were people who were loved and were mourned.

So she went out hunting and in addition to her meal for the night she found a huge piece of bark that had come off of a tree and began to carve their names into the surface. It would be crude and ugly, but she felt as though she needed to preserve their names. Preserve them as people, not tools. She felt tears begin to sting in her eyes as she used her talons as her quill, what she knew of them sprung to the forefront of her mind.

Ignasse de Vesnaint - A dragoon, though she wasn’t sure of much else about him other than he and Ser Vellguine were close.

Vellguine de Bourbagne - The oldest among them. Silent, but kind.

Hermenost de la Treaumaille - A man of deep faith and a mage who passed along to her how to imbue magic into weapons as he did with his battleaxe.

Grinnaux de Dzemael - Brutish arsehole who bullied her when she was small, but Raven knew that his fate wasn’t one he deserved. 

Paulecrain de Fanouilley - Raven didn’t know much about him, other than that he was a former knight of House Fortemps that had been dismissed, and that he seemed close with Grinnaux.

Noudenet de Jaimberd - A bookish sort who liked magic. He seemed to be interested in Mingxia’s, and to some extent her own.

Haumeric de Peulagnon - Coronette’s dearest and the one who taught Mingxia Coerthan ice conjury. She remembered how Coronette had passed Serella her sword to do a blow for her when she was told of his fate.

Adelphel de Chevraudan - A notorious flirt and one of the fastest swordsmen she’d ever seen. She remembered the family of older sisters he was leaving behind and her heart squeezed.

Janlenoux de Courcillant - Always seen with Adelphel, the moon to Adelphel’s sun. And a wonderful culinarian. Were he not on duty he would be volunteering in her mama’s kitchen.

Guerrique de Montrohain - A sweet one, if a bit loud. A soft-spoken Raen named Yitsuge liked him. One of Zephirin’s most loyal, and to her knowledge they were close friends.

Zephirin de Valhourdin - Raven knew him to be a noble and just soul. Mingxia’s sister Kaia was in love with him and he loved her. She remembered having a small crush on him as a teen, but he was focused on his own goals to notice her.

Charibert de Leusignac Cross - Raven let out a sob as she wrote the name of her brother. She lost him once already when she was seven summers, and then she hadn’t seen or heard from him for a score. And of course the fates would be cruel to her by giving him back only to take him away again. The one who would sit and teach her words and scripture and answer her questions about the faith. She dragged her talon across his surname and replaced it with her own. Even though he was never formally adopted, he was a Cross, and damn anyone who would try arguing that. She knew he did horrible things, but she wanted to believe there was more to it than pure cruelty. Their mama taught them all better than that.

She set the bark aside as she hugged her knees, weeping for them, as she knew their families would be back home.

[knightstwelve]

navigation post for myself (wip)

series ~aesthetic~

dog days: [wip] softly with teeth: kill your darlings kiss your demons diana's ward otome adventures: dokidokiwardtxt [zephfic, paulefic, adelfic] diana's timeloop adventure: vaultfic

ocs

catherine in general: catherine hart catherine ~aesthetic~: diana in general: diana sawyer diana ~aesthetic~ : we know more about the moon than we do the ocean eve in general: eve bernard eve ~aethestic~: [wip]

specific characters ~aesthetic~ (seperate from general posts)

zephirin de valhourdin: history will vindicate us vellguine de bourbagne: all men must serve each in their own way charibert de leusignac: sickness must be purged grinnaux de dzemael: clever men die just as quick as the rest adelphel: and in turn adored beauty above all else paulecrain de fanouilley: virtue from the poisoned wine haumeric de peulagnon: worm of the dell guerrique de montrohain: ten in our hearts hermenost de la treaumaille: levinlight noudenet de jaimberd: the third son janlenoux de courcillant: naught less naught more ignasse de vesnaint: who are we to deny it

misc aesthetic:

ishgard: guide us o mighty fury

misc media

misc text post: olivtxt coms i bought: coms

[cullxtheherd]

From the Men at Arms meme - "I can’t stand the man, actually. But you were making him look foolish."

hlghlfg hi!!! i hope you are well today my friend!! as always thank you for sending this in, i had a lot of fun answering it!! and like?? this probably isn't exactly what you wanted, but skdjksjdks here u go!

John takes in a slow, measured breath through his nose, expression souring. He isn’t upset per se, “I’m just disappointed, Benjamin.” Watching the gradual spread of crimson across the lapping water's surface he is partially transfixed, “I wasn’t done with that one.”

He hugs the Book against his chest, fingers wrapping the worn edges tenderly. This certainly wouldn’t be the first time a convert hadn’t survived Baptism, but? Just three nights ago Joseph had reminded him of the Gates and their importance and- John had found it increasingly difficult to abstain as of late.

“Very well,” Black denim ruched up around his knees, his toes dig in, disturbing silt, “Retrieve that one.” He gestures with his head and eyes, silent as a couple of missionaries plunge in and abandon their Bliss barrels.

“No more,” He admonishes when they are out of earshot, “I thought we had spoken about this.” Though the role he is assuming as disappointed hen is more than comical he is deadly serious, “I will not have you risking my future beyond the Gates like this, I can’t-” Despite his resolve he can feel the lost and bewildered look take over, eyes welling lightly; he is paranoid about this subject particularly.

Realizing himself the expression is gone; a slate wiped clean in a frighteningly quick and effortless manner. “Unacceptable,” It is all he has left to say on the matter of the Deputy’s behavior and he straightens up, watching the pair of missionaries return.

Never one to let a situation sour entirely John smiles, artificial whites showing, “I do appreciate the compliment, though.” Extending a beckoning palm to the group on shore he embraces the shoulder of the next approaching hopeful, “Very nice of you.”

“God,” He begins, “Sometimes takes us down into dark and troubled waters- not to drown us, but to cleanse us,” Finally he tears his unwavering gaze free of the Deputy, “Of 𝕤𝕚𝕟- to free us of our burdens.” His timbre rises but only with enthusiasm, ready to sell a mandatory rite of passage, “My brothers and I,” John excludes Rachel because he doubts her holiness, “We are living proof of that fact.”

“I can testify that my past was made clean by my Savior and 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻,” Handing off the Book he clasps a courteous hand over his patrons nose and mouth, dunking them into the hallucinogenic waters, “Hand-in-hand,” He is genuinely unable to help himself and he is more than over-zealous in selling himself and his product as the cleansed resurfaces, “The Father will lead us straight through 𝕰𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝕲𝖆𝖙𝖊!”

[honeysidesarchived]

👤 ?

!!!! tysm for the ask lovely 🥺 here is a tiny tiny bit from my enemies to lovers au with varya and roman!

• share a line that shows a character's personality

Roman Sionis might crown himself a man of godly proportions at every opportunity, but he is just that; a man. And Varya knows men.

[strafethesesinners]

Have you ever seen that video of a dude riding a wakeboard in a ditch, being pulled along by a guy on horseback? Because I think that's the kind of shit that would happen if Ben and Cooper were to hang out.

Oh my god, no I haven’t!! But that totally sounds like something Cooper would do with whoever agreed to it lmaoo. Good chance he would be drunk but honestly I think he’d do that sober.

[rhymingteelookatme]

A thought regarding the TMA/Coraline post - maybe the Other Mother would be a manifestation of the Web? Spider motif, control, etc, etc?

Oh that’s true, I forgot the picture showed Movie!Coraline and how they did that whole explicit spider thing in the movie whereas the book version only used spiders as a metaphor. But either way it works... Perhaps the Web is less subtle with kids. I mean, that whole picture book and all. oh my god Coraline was practically literally a Guest for Madam Spider lmao

[elluvians]

Okay, here's a fun fact: armadillos (nearly?) always give birth to identical quadruplets.

Quality ask 💜 (I immediately googled baby armadillos)

[gaarrus]

For the Cyberpunk OC questions - #8 under Personality, #1 and #9 under Favorites, and #13 under Background!

theme song

gasoline by halsey right now (although it keeps changing tbh!)

favorite place in night city

she always loved japan town. but after she met jackie, heywood became a second home to her and so it will always have a place in her heart

favorite radio station

the dirge! but after she buys that samurai bootleg to fuck with johnny she finds herself tuning into morro rock radio more often (and really hopes he won’t notice it....)

what is the biggest lesson they learned growing up?

very cliche but probably that life isn’t fair. bad things happen to good people, and there’s really nothing you can do about it, except to go on.

[starswornoaths]

GAME OVER

:3c

Aymeric was absolutely certain that he looked ridiculous, sprinting off after his dog down into Foundation in full Lord Speaker regalia. More ridiculous still because of how he had often spoken of how mild mannered and well tempered his companion was. 

“Vardr!” He called sharply in agitation when he realized the oversized, over fluffy dog was making a mad dash down into the Firmament. 

Exasperated, but at least grateful he had no other sessions to attend to today, Aymeric gave chase. As he trotted down the stairs his stomach sank as he saw Vardr barreling toward a peculiar but spacious looking cottage completely ensconced in a greenhouse. He prayed none of the glass would get damaged if Vardr charged at it—

His stupid, clever, stupid, stupid, too smart for his own goddamned good dog managed to open the greenhouse door with his paws and snout against the door’s handle, and promptly slipped inside. Already groaning in frustration, he picked up his jog again and scrambled to find a polite way to apologize for his dog’s breaking and entering. The door swung open wider when he drew near to reveal a woman in her front yard, tending to her vibrant, verdant garden.

The dread of his dog injuring someone gave way to curiosity when Vardr slowed to a walk at the sight of her, happily circling around her skirts and prancing for her. The woman, still facing away from Aymeric, knelt down to enthusiastically ruffle Vardr’s fur. He seemed delighted, promptly flopping down on his side in the grass and wriggled into the affectionate belly rubs that followed.

(Grass, in Ishgard, Aymeric mused. What a peculiar thought. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen it.) 

“Pray forgive me!” He said breathlessly once he had trotted up to the threshold of the woman’s yard, just outside the open door. “I thought him better mannered than—”

“He’s no bother— I’ve seen him around before.” She reassured him with barely a glance over her shoulder. He still could not make out her face. “Please, come in and shut the door, lest the cold hurt my plants.

Aymeric dumbly obeyed, stepping inside. When the door closed the warmth of the greenhouse enveloped him, there was a peculiar sense of nostalgia with it— a sense of coming home that he was absolutely...almost certain that he had never felt before. Without thought, he stuffed his hand into his pocket and rummaged for a key— 

A key? Why did he think he had a key? He did not live here.

When she lifted her head and turned to face him, Aymeric was bowled over with the peculiar feeling he was familiar with her. With mismatched eyes of blue and green and little pale blue flowers woven into the ebony hair she looked as a spring nymph but for the scars that had carved their way across her lips and down into her neck.

She smiled at him in a way that struck him to his heart. It felt as if she knew him.

Vardr, upset that his pets had been interrupted, sat up with a huff and nosed his head under her palm. Even as she didn’t look away from Aymeric she huffed a laugh and gently pet his head soothingly. 

“Are you well, my lord?” She asked gently— and he realized he must have looked ridiculous, gawking at her so.

“Quite— I beg forgiveness on Vardr’s behalf.” Aymeric cleared his throat and bowed deeply. “He has has never done something so reckless, I have not the faintest idea what got into him.”

The smile on her face turned wincing, and something deep and instinctual demanded he make that better, even as he had no clue why he felt so.

“He’s a spirited boy.” She replied, and he found he rather enjoyed the low alto of her voice, soft and soothing. “But really, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad for the company.”

The way she spoke was so familiar that for a moment he forgot they did not know each other— forgot, at least, until he made to say her name only to find he had no name to form on his lips. Or, rather, he shouldn’t. They had never met before— 

“Where are my manners— Aymeric de Borel.” He held out his hand in introduction.

The faint upset in her expression momentarily grew— she might have thought she had hidden it, and perhaps if he had not been studying her face to see how it was so familiar, he might have missed it, but it made that ache in his heart twinge. What was happening to him?

When she reached out to shake his hand, she instead gently grasped it, turned it carefully in her hold. With her free hand, she traced his knuckles with her fingertips. It struck him as odd, but he found himself unable to pull away.

“You’ll never be allowed to remember me,” she whispered, her smile gone. When she lifted her head again, her eyes swam with tears. “Will you, dear one?”

“Wh—”

His question died on his tongue in a cry of pain when the ringing in his ears started. A light burst forth from behind his eyes. His head felt as though something deeply intrinsic to him was trying to burrow out of his skull. He fell unconscious long before he had felt himself hit the ground.

There was a light overhead. He felt it press against his eyelids to fill him, that stubborn sunlight— and surely nothing more than sunlight. The first thing that struck him as he returned to himself was that he was warm, and lying in...grass? In Ishgard? How curious. When had he last felt grass here?

Aymeric forced his eyes open. When the sunlight streaming through the glass proved too much and he brough his arm up to shield him, it felt made of lead. Vardr nosed at him, and the wet cold of his nose helped Aymeric ground himself better. Despite the bone deep ache in his bones, he sat up slowly—

And his gaze fell upon a striking, heavily scarred woman. With eyes of sea and earth and forget-me-nots woven into her hair, she looked as a servant of Nophica, knelt at his side surrounded by such green and warmth.

“What—” He tried to ask when she graciously held up a hand.

“You were chasing your dog— he got into my greenhouse. You slipped chasing him, my lord.” She gave a nod, though the way she avoided looking at him confused him. “But I’m glad you’re unharmed.”

Vardr sat between the both of them, fluffy tail thumping on either side of him eagerly. Aymeric struggled to recall a time where his dog looked so pleased.

“Forgive me— and my dog.” He threw Vardr a wry smile as he forced himself to stand. “It would seem I could do to train him better. Pray permit remove him from your home and trouble you no further.”

“You’re both welcome over any time. It’s no trouble.” Said the woman. “It would be nice to have you over again.”

“It must have been the blow to the head— have we introduced ourselves? I’ve forgotten your name.”

“We did, Ser Aymeric.” The smile she gave him make his chest ache. 

Before she did, there was a...a moment, a recollection he couldn’t place flickered in the back of his mind, where he saw her— her, she has a name, you know her name, something in him insisted— strumming softly on a lyre, those scarred, full lips forming such beautiful music.

“Remember me, though I have to say goodbye,” that false memory of her sang in aching intimacy.

“Serella.” The woman replied, her gaze locked on Vardr.

Something about the name felt right and not. Correct, but not right. He could not place why. Ella feels better, his heart whispered enigmatically as he took in her radiance.

“A pleasure— though pray forgive me, I must be off.”

She nodded and bent to give his dog a few more pets. Vardr whined, bumping his head against her hand.

“Look after him. He’s a bit lost, but he’s noble and good.” Serella spoke— but still kept her eyes on Vardr.

Aymeric felt as though he were not the one being spoken to, and thus did not respond.

“Come, boy.” Aymeric patted his thigh, trying to shake the fog that was already beginning to filter in his head. The warmth of the greenhouse and the brightness of the sun was making him vaguely like taking a nap. When Vardr whined and tried to press flat against Serella’s leg when she stood, he frowned. Vardr had never done that with anyone before. “Vardr.”

Vardr’s harness and leash were still on— and normally when Aymeric took the leash in hand Vardr was ready to go. This was not normally; with a sad cry as though he were struck, Vardr pulled taut against the leash with everything he had to stay close to Serella— a perfect stranger!

“It’s alright, Vardr.” The woman shushed him, already turning to step inside. “Go on.”

Even after he’d stepped outside of the greenhouse, Vardr continued to whine.

“What has gotten into you, boy?” Aymeric asked sharply as he stuffed his hand in his pocket in search of a key.

Lock up before you leave home, some lost part of him spoke up in reminder.

He froze— why was he looking for a key to an unfamiliar woman’s greenhouse? That was ridiculous. He had never been here before.

By the time he made it back up the stairs from the Brume to Foundation proper, he forgot about the little corner of spring rooted into the very Firmament of Ishgard. Again.

[beetlebrownleaf]

Smash or pass - Lyse and Aymeric!

“Oh Lyse? Smash, if such an occasion did arise. She’s a very pretty girl, and my dear friend. And it just so happens she is also rather fond of other girls.”

She takes another drink.

“As for Aymeric... my goodness. Does it even need to be said? I mean, after Haurchefant first introduced me to him, I just kept shaking his arm, whispering to him, trying to get his attention, and all he could muster was a very quiet and serious ‘I know’.”

She sighs.

“...We never did get to ask him if he’d like to join us in bed sometime. That could have been... fun.”

Urianger stares off into space, a wistful look on his face. 

“...I mean, I can still ask, Urianger.” 

He sputters.

“S-surely not!”

He buries his nose deeper into his book, his face growing red.

send me “smash or pass” + a name and my muse will answer with 100% honesty.

[tiergan-vashir]

I really dig the hair in the screenshots you just posted! :o where did you get it, if you don't mind me asking?

https://twitter.com/DWmodss/status/1241553831160426496?s=20 Here you go! It’s called Ten Tigers.

[ishgard]

smash or pass - Riol and Lucia!

“Oh, Riol and I almost a time or two, but I suppose you could say cooler heads prevailed. So would I smash? Yes, but I’ve no inclination for it these days.”

“As for Lucia? …I respect and cherish her as friend and ally both, and she is… one of the most breath-taking women I have the honor of fighting alongside, so yes, I guess that’s a ‘smash’. Alas, these days there are any number of factors that would make that difficult and… awkward.”

[Smash or Pass] - thank you frand!! :D

[sodomymcscurvylegs]

I showed my roommate one of your posts, and he spent a couple minutes just saying "bussybussybussy" to himself... then turned to me and asked "is it butt pussy or boy pussy?" I'm dead.

[fletchlingfletcher]

Hands? :o

Also asked by @aether-burn

@trisselle ‘s hands are soft. They’re so soft. And warm. Even in the Coerthas cold, her hands are warm. How she manages it is a mystery. Especially when she’s frequently out and about sketching the world. Her hands never seem to freeze up, allowing her lines to remain smooth and soft and accurate. Like her. Sometimes she manages to track charcoal under her nails that are otherwise well-kept; not ever manicured though, that’s just a bit too luxurious for her life. Besides, it wouldn’t do to chip a fresh manicure- she’s still learning to use the rapier, after all, deft as she is with it. 

Every so often Trisselle will sport a bandage around a finger- perhaps a papercut? Maybe a knick from the sword? But its just about the only imperfection you’d find on an otherwise well-tended pair of hands.

Thanks @vesnaint

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