#wvrs

[hiding-in-the-vault]

Was looking through old arts and found some painting practices from around September 2020! Thought they were neat, albeit unfinished

[sun-3-160]

The amount of times ive rewatched VI youd think i would have picked up that pamela is his sister but i guess not uh

[without-school-or-style]

9 - Lend An Ear

Word Count: 1,088

Today’s Card: The Weaver, reversed

Just as Joey rematerialized by the miniature aetheryte in front of the Weaver’s Guild, his ears caught wind of a conversation.

“T-thank you for o-offering to teach a greenhorn like me, sir,” said the soft voice of a girl. “I-I can never s-seem to get this r-right, no matter how many times I try.”

A long, awkward pause. Joey had expected to hear at least a thank you, but silence. As he continued walking towards the Weaver’s Guild, the voices grew louder.

“I've done this countless times, yet I can still never master the basic technique,” said the girl. “My late mother taught me this since I was young and yet—”

“By the twelve, lass! I'm spending my precious time here helping you, and this is how you treat me? Like your therapist?” growled a deep voice from near the girl.

The area fell into stunned silence—both by the girl, and by Joey, who stopped dead in his tracks from the sheer shock of the gruff man’s callous words.

“Look, lass, I'm not in the mood for your trauma dumping!” the deep voice snapped. “There are countless other endeavours that need my attention. And now, thanks to you, I may have to file a full report on just how much you've been griefing me.”

“I-I'm sorry!” the girl stammered.

When Joey found himself able to move again, he saw a giant blur brush his way. Only thanks to his reflexes honed by countless years of martial arts training did he step aside enough to feel only the wind of the Roegadyn that stormed past him. The tell-tale sound and a brief flash of light later, Joey assumed safely that the Roegadyn had promptly warped away to who-knew-where.

The Viera’s foot brushed against a spindle of hempen yarn. He knelt down to see even more spindles; most likely the Roegadyn “mentor” had been tasked to help this new apprentice. As Joey gathered spindles, he looked up to see the face of the shy girl—a pink-haired Miqo’te.

“You all right?” Joey asked.

Like an emotionally wounded coeurl, the miqo’te yelped and jumped a few inches into the air from her crouched position. A pair of giant green eyes locked onto Joey as though gazing upon an imminent threat. “Y-you heard that, huh?”

“Just the tail end.” Joey took one of the spindles before she did and held it up to his face. “Hempen yarn, is it? You've spun the moko grass quite well. What was it you were planning to do?”

The Miqo’te opened her mouth to speak, then closed. She spoke again only after she shook her head. “N-no, don't worry about it, adventurer. I can handle myself just fine. Don't you worry… worry…” She laughed nervously as she scooped up more spindles over her own arm.

“I'm sorry that person was rude to you earlier,” said Joey.

The Miqo’te shook her head, her pigtails whipping from side to side. “No, i-it's my fault for… what did he call it? Trauma dumping… as he said. H-he was just there to teach me the basics. I-I shouldn't have imposed on him.”

“Does he even know what that term means?” Joey asked. The Miqo’te didn’t respond, so Joey continued. “You weren't trauma dumping. You were sharing your experiences. There's nothing wrong with wanting someone else to relate to you.”

Slowly, the Miqo’te raised her head to look at Joey. At least her eyes weren’t as wide as before. That was a good sign.

“If nothing else, I can help you spin some yarn, so to say.” said Joey. “I, too, am a member of the Weaver's Guild.”

Shifting his weight to allow his right hand to reach deep into his pocket, he procured his Soul of the Weaver to her in his outstretched palm. The Miqo’te’s eyes widened again and she held a hand to her mouth.

“Y-you’re a specialist?! Oh n-no, I can't possibly intrude—”

“I'm not doing anything important at the moment. I'm more than happy to help out with whatever you wanted to do.”

“Ah, um… well, I was just learning to spin some thread to make some of these hempen-related tops in the recipe book…”

And with that, the Miqo’te pulled out a spindle some clumps of moko grass. She placed a large amount of clumps in the middle, most likely accepting Joey’s assistance in her own way.

Joey pulled out his own spindle and took a few bunches of moko grass himself. “You said you learned how to make hempen yarn from your mother.”

“Don't worry about it, adventurer. I've said enough already.”

“Not to me—I mean, everyone’s different, right? Maybe that other person doesn’t care to hear anything but the sound of his own voice, but I’m always willing to lend a… long ear.” Joey gestured to his ears.

The Miqo’te giggled softly. Another good sign.

“Besides, I like to hear people’s stories.”

Joey paused. He still sensed some hesitation from the Miqo’te, if the soft voice he heard in his head was any indication.

He seems nice, but I don’t want to trouble him.

He still sensed that lingering sadness. Understandable. Words cut like a knife and wounds lingered for eternity if left untouched. Not wanting to leave her sadness lingering forever, Joey decided to be the one to break the ice.

“For what it's worth, I don't have a mother myself,” said Joey.

“I'm sorry…”

“No, don't be. I can’t miss what I never had. I do have a mother in a sense—a close friend of mine who looks after me.” He picked up one of the spindles most likely made by the Miqo’te, as she kept a select few close to her. “But I can imagine that your mother would be proud of you to have made work this exceptional.”

The Miqo’te smiled a soft, genuine smile that pushed her cheeks up into her eyes ever so gently. “You think so?”

“I know so. I know quality work when I see it.”

That soft smile turned into a wide beam from ear to ear.

“What kind of person was your mother?” Joey asked. “She must have been an amazing person.”

The Miqo’te nodded and returned to her spinning. “She was. She was the most loving and supportive mother a girl could ask for. She knew everything there was to do about needle point. We raised karakul back at our home.”

Her story continued well past the time they completed her tasks. And Joey hung on to every word.

[starspaceace]

yeah im leveling my crafters how can you tell

[conscious-naivete]

they stole this guy’s car and then killed him an all his buddies. like???

[wye-valley-railway]

First Railway/Line out. This time the Llynfi & Ogmore Railway which operated for just under 110 years sandwiched up a valley between Port Talbot and Bridgend down to the coast at Porthcawl.

[foxferatu]

ummm i think i need healing...

[cyborgpulsebooks]

the nature of ffxiv is that every once in a while you remember crafting and gathering exist before blacking out and coming to 30min before 5am, controller in hand

[lesenbyan]

sudden overwhelming need for thirst art of Cyn in a tank top, sweaty, and with a sledgehammer

[grilledkatniss]

Pot a toe

[captainsaku]

POV: You’re a new adventurer freshly arrived in Ul’dah and in need of proper clothes. Momodi has directed you to “Mom,” a retired adventurer who now spends her time helping clothe those in need and designing pieces for the rich at exorbitant prices.

Little did you know that you would find yourself faced with none other than the Warrior of Light. In her own home, no less, where she keeps one of her workshops...

[hiding-in-the-vault]

Vault! How are you doing on this fine day?

A sinister looking elmhat!! I’m quite well, thank you <3

Actually so busy with a friend staying with me this week and planning a holiday party. Barely any time for rotating the blorbos but I stay silly

How are you :)

[prismbearer]

...Moon Mage...

[ceepycute]

[noxtivagus]

I LOVE THE CULINARIAN QUESTS SO MUCH 🥹

[conscious-naivete]

“12 is too young to stay home alone” um jessi and mallory from the babysitters’ club were 11 and looking after upwards of 4 kids singlehanded i think a 12yo can babysit himself