#you know….you know I think krile might get it

[impossible-rat-babies]

the wanting to write eyrie’s terrible no good very bad grief over redacted v who in the scions would actually listen to them talk about that

[starrysnowdrop]

Why Hali/Aymeric?

This is something that I’ve been wanting to write up for a long time now, and I’ve finally been able to get my thoughts down properly. For those who have been around for a while might be used to my ship by now and can see how their chemistry is, but I know I have some newer followers that might be interested in this explanation. Or perhaps you’re just curious even though you’ve been here forever. Either way, I thank you in advance for taking your time to read this! See under the cut below.

So, you might or might not know that Hali is actually not my first WoL OC, even though she is pretty much my only WoL OC now. Before Hali was created, I had an Auri Hingan Samurai woman named Yume, whom I had created back in 2019, shortly after the release of Shadowbringers. I didn’t realize it at first, but because of how I had written Yume, as a stoic, no nonsense warrior through and through, but also someone who was dealing with a lot of trauma and trying to find purpose in her life, I soon had a hard time shipping her with anyone. Over the years I had tried shipping Yume with Cid, G’raha, and I briefly thought of Artoirel, but before any of them, my first choice of an NPC ship was Aymeric.

Why Aymeric? Well, it took me quite a while to realize that a huge part of me wanting to ship Yume with Aymeric as a first choice was a very personal one. Aymeric was the first character in FFXIV that I completely fell for. Though I enjoyed the characters of Cid, Haurchefant, and G’raha in ARR, it wasn’t until we meet Aymeric that I had gotten attached to the world and the story through finding a favorite character of my own. Aymeric is so special to me, and that made me try to ship my only WoL at the time with him. But as you can see, that ultimately didn’t work out.

It didn’t work out because Yume and Aymeric didn’t vibe well with each other. There was a severe lack of chemistry between the two. I had realized that Aymeric is much too polite and respectful of decorum to break Yume out of her shell to make a deeper connection than just comrades that respect one another, and I didn’t think Yume was the kind of person that Aymeric would come to love either, as she would likely remind him of the many Ishgardian nobles that he was around all the time, for many reasons which I won’t elaborate on here due to brevity. And as I didn’t have any other OCs at the time, continued developing Yume and an NPC ship with Aymeric was discarded. Although I personally was very saddened by that, I thought it was the right decision for both characters.

Yet, I continued having trouble writing any kind of ship with Yume. After a few years, as I kept getting frustrated with the ships I was trying to write for her, I got inspired to make another WoL OC that would be different from Yume in every way. She actually would end up being much more of a self insert than I ever expected, but nonetheless I fell in love with the pink haired, happy go lucky Lalafellin woman who would become Hali Aloke, my pride and joy.

As I got Hali through base ARR and into the ARR patches, I didn’t have any intention on trying to ship her Aymeric and to try a WoL x NPC ship with him a second time, as I actually had intentions to ship Hali with Krile later on in her WoL journey.

But everything changed once Hali met Aymeric in 2.4, the lead up to Heavensward. I saw them in the cutscenes together, and as ridiculous of a height difference they had, I still couldn’t help but giggle and squeal whenever they were together. They just were incredibly adorable, and I couldn’t hold myself back. I just had to try to ship Hali with Aymeric.

So I decided to try to write a few prompts with them together and see how their dynamic was. And it was even better than I had expected. Their chemistry was so amazing, and the dialogue between them flowed quite effortlessly. Not only was I highly impressed and kept getting inspired to write more and more, but I got a ton of positive feedback from so many people telling me that they loved Hali and Aymeric together.

And I guess that was that. I have never looked back since. Hali x Aymeric are my everything (well fandom wise of course); my ship makes me so damn happy. Just looking at them makes me smile and want to write and gpose more. I can’t get enough of them. It’s to the point now that I don’t know if I could ever write a ship better than Hali x Aymeric. And you know what? I don’t even want to try at this point.

I still can’t fully comprehend how a pink haired, bubbly, sunshine of a lalafellin woman and a noble, brave, and charismatic Ishgardian knight could be such a beautiful and dynamic couple that would not only bring me endless joy but also keep inspiring me far more than anything else I’ve ever written. It is utterly beyond my comprehension, but somehow it works. And I am forever grateful that I just followed my heart and wrote what I wanted, and not for anyone else’s approval, but my own.

I somehow hope this helps inspire someone out there to not be afraid and just go for the ship they want to write for, despite what the fandom at large says. Trust me, it’s worth it.

[otherworldseekers]

Waiting for Your Return

A little bit of Severia x Nero writing that occurs during 6.55 setting up things for Dawntrail.

I wrote it for the prompt "return" sent to me by @gatheredfates for a single word fic drive, but decided to make a separate post for it as it got away from me a bit and then I decided to add a few screenshots.

Severia lay on her back on her bed in the Balsesion Annex and made herself comfortable. Beside her next to the pillow was her Cockwork Novus D*. A familiar voice came from inside it. 

“Hullo, darling. Miss me?”

“Of course I miss you, silly boy.” Never mind that they had seen each other just that morning before she had teleported to Sharlayan to meet with Krile. “Did you get much work done without me there to distract you?”

“At the risk of being premature-”

“You? Never.”

Nero laughed. “You tease. Are you sure you can’t come back for the night?”

“Well, of course I could, but we’re headed out at first light for the Isle of Hamm and you know teleporting that kind of distance too often wears me out.”*

“I can think of a few ways to-”

“I want to avoid that!” she protested with a smile. “Anyway, tell me your news.”

“I think I’ve made a breakthrough,” Nero said, smugness oozing from his voice. 

“So that puts you ahead of Cid?”

“I’m fairly certain this puts me months ahead of him in research,” Nero bragged. “He’s still struggling to work out the formula for-”

Severia interrupted before he got technical. It was far too late in the day for that. “Have you decided what you’re going to make him do when you win?”

Nero grinned to himself. Her complete faith in him was always a balm to his competitive spirit. “That is the hardest part of this contest.* I need an idea that is suitably embarrassing while also not technically harmful. But I’m sure it will come to me. Now. Your news.”

And so Severia told him all about meeting Wuk Lamat and what the enthusiastic Hrothgar had come to Sharlayan for. “I’d never considered going to the New World before. I haven’t exactly said I would go yet, but I can’t deny I’m tempted.”

“Indeed. From what I’ve read the continent of Tural is quite vast and diverse. There was some talk at one point among the Legati about what kind of resources would be necessary to mount an invasion.”

“Seriously? Garlemald wanted to invade Tural?”

“The Emperor wanted the whole world under him thumb. Of course that included Tural. It was on the roadmap for the future, but it didn’t get any farther than that before you Eorzean savages started giving us too much trouble.”

Nero’s tone was facetious and Severia knew when he spoke that way his tongue was firmly in his cheek so she took no offense. Their former positions on opposite sides of a war was something they often teased each other about. “Yes, how dare they. If only they’d rolled over and taken it you might have ended up lost in the jungles of Tural one day getting hacked to pieces by Mamool Ja.”

Nero scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It would largely have been an aerial assault. I certainly wouldn’t have been trudging along in the dirt.”

“No, I imagine you would have been mowing down the natives in the Ultima Weapon or such like.”

“Possibly, possibly,” Nero conceded. “So what’s this excursion to the Isle about?”

“We’re all going on a hunt.”

“Again, we?”

“Er, me, Wuk Lamat, Erenville, G’raha and Krile. Wuk Lamat wants to see if I live up to Erenville’s stories.”

“She doubts you?”

“I don’t exactly cut the most imposing figure, you must admit.”

“I must admit nothing. You’re all the more intimidating for your adorable size.”

“Well, you have the benefit of having watched me fight a Primal the very first time you saw me. Also you’re biased.”

“I am only biased in how much your incredible talents made me love you.”

Severia closed her eyes and pulled her blanket up to her chin, smiling in contentment. “I love you too.”

“So when will you return?”

“Tomorrow.” It had been some time since they had been apart from each other for more than a day and she had gotten used to the luxury of it. With a pang she considered how long they might be separated if she went to Tural. The sense of loss that rose up inside her nearly took her breath away. “I’ll be home as soon as I can get away.”

“I look forward to it, with all my heart. Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Nero.”

The following evening Severia walked through the front door of the cottage she shared with Nero in a thoughtful mood. She had all but made up her mind to go to Tural. The prospect filled her with both elation and a dread that she could not reconcile. She wanted to go. She wanted to see new lands, meet new peoples, learn new histories and make new discoveries. But she didn’t want to leave home. Home. A word that had once held no appeal to her had lately become so precious. 

Her ruminations were interrupted when Nero came tumbling down the stairs holding a large duffle bag in each hand. 

“Oh, welcome home, darling.” Without putting down either bag, he gave her a quick kiss and then went to the kitchen and started searching through drawers and cabinets. Every so often he found an item he wanted and carefully tucked it away in one of the duffle bags, which was now bulging with odd corners and bumps. 

Severia watched at a loss. “What are you doing?”

“Hmmmm? Packing.”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know that you were going to come home and tell me you’ve decided to go? Because I know you, love. It’s far too good an opportunity of doing all the things you like most to miss.”

“All right, fair. But you don’t have to pack for me.” Was he that eager to see her go? Was he looking forward to time uninterrupted for his work?

“I’m not,” said Nero, as he weighed two identical spatulas in his hands before picking one and packing it away. “This is all for me.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

Nero gave her the strained look he had when she was being a little slow. “To Tural.”

Severia sucked in a breath of surprise. “You mean…”

“I’m coming with you,” Nero said as if it were painfully obvious. He pointed at her with the rejected spatula. “You don’t honestly expect me to sit around at home once again twiddling my thumbs and waiting for your return while you’re out there having the adventure of a lifetime?”

“I didn’t… I just… I mean, that’s how-”

“That’s how it’s always been,” Nero finished for her and his brow furrowed in irritation for a moment before he released a sigh and relaxed it once more. He set the spatula back down on the counter and went to her, taking her hands in his. “But it doesn’t have to continue that way. Severia, I want to be at your side, you know that.”

“But your work… This contest with Cid…”

“Do you really think those things matter more to me?” He tipped her chin up so he could look in her eyes. Tears were gathering there. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. “Besides, the audacity of you going off on your own to explore an entire continent that may indeed be rife with monumental discoveries none but I are qualified to obtain! No true man of science could allow that.”

Severia laughed and flung her arms around his waist. “I’m so glad. Oh Nero, I wanted to go so much but I didn’t want to be away from you. You’ll really come with me?”

“Naturally. I look forward to sitting on the sidelines sipping refreshing tropical drinks while you slay all the beasties.”

“Absolutely not. You’d better pack your hammer because I won’t save you when you inevitably do something reckless and unleash some kind of great evil on the land. I’ll save everyone else, but not you.”

Nero gave her his best sad puppy dog look. “You don’t mean that.”

“No, I don’t mean it. But adventuring isn't all fun and games, you know. You are going to pull your weight.”

“Whatever you say, my love. Now, when do we leave?” 

“Oh, not for weeks.”

“Hmmm. I’d better unpack the cast iron pans.” He released her and began rummaging again through the duffel bag. 

Severia watched in astonishment as he pulled out an absurd number of cooking implements. “You’re bringing cast iron pans? Are you insane?”

“What? They’re excellent for cooking over an open fire.”

“This is too much stuff, Nero. I prefer to travel light.”

“Can’t you just put it all in your pocket dimension?”*

“Do you think I’m some kind of beast of burden?”

“Don’t be foolish. You know perfectly well anything that goes into that bag of yours is no burden at all.”

“Ugh. Fine! You win. As usual.”

Nero grinned and, still on his knees, pulled her into him for a kiss. “You love me.”

Severia sighed in surrender. “I adore you.”

Notes:

Nero turned the Clockwork Novus D into a long range communication device for he and Severia to use that is more secure and reliable than a linkpearl.

Teleporting large distances too often causes fatigue. A headcanon of mine developed for the sake of narrative pacing.

Nero and Cid have regular contests to see who can solve a specific problem first or make the better device fitted to a client's need. At this point they are tied for victories 11 to 11.

Severia's travel gear includes a pack with a relatively stable pocket dimension inside. A headcanon of mine to account for inventory space and a reference to this post.

[kicktwine]

“Ch’ari. What are you doing.”

The aetheric silhouette that is the Warrior of Light freezes in the middle of hobbling across the hallway. “I am… getting… a drink?” He says. 

“Oh?” Y’shtola raises an eyebrow. 

His aether flickers. The shape inches forward slowly, as if she were a dinosaur and couldn’t see him if he moved really slow. “I am… getting a very specific drink. From… Othard.”

“Are you now.” 

“…You are getting me a very specific drink from Othard?” Ch’ari tries. 

Y’shtola reaches behind her for her staff, and Ch’ari turns and scuttles as fast as his body will take him back into his room where he’s supposed to be. 

-

Alisaie scowls. “I am bored.”

“No kidding,” Ch’ari whines. “When are we allowed to leave?!”

“I am allowed to leave tomorrow. You will be staying here until you have resolved not to be a fool and throw your life away for a victory lap,” Alisaie snaps, and then her expression turns down. “Or at least until you can walk again.”

“Seems hypocritical to me. They’re letting you out early.”

“I’m almost healed!”

“By the loosest definition.”

“It wasn’t even a wound, Ari.”

“Hm.”

“Look—“ Alisaie says, pride in being Not Bedridden stoked by his dismissals, and pushes her way out of her bed at Dawn’s Respite to march over to Ch’ari’s bed, indignant. And still, notably, a bit shaky, after concentrated lightning magic left her too hurt to stand. Ch’ari still thinks they’re all stupid, every Scion, right back at them, for not tending to their own injuries well enough to heal themselves before pouring almost the entire Ragnarok’s worth of aether into him. Stupid, dumb, idiots. They’d already saved the universe at that point. We don’t need eight incapacitated scions when we could have had just the one. 

“You look like a baby amaro,” Ch’ari says, instead of voicing any of those thoughts. “Like a newborn foal. Damnation, looks like you’ll have to stay here and keep me company.”

Alisaie flicks him — gently, even though he’s not even got a head wound. “Ari. I promise we’re not going anywhere. And you know if you asked him to, Alphinaud would stay with you for days reading fantasy novels or textbooks at you for entertainment.”

His ears droop. “I know. But he needs to sleep.”

“And so do you.”

“And so do I,” Ch’ari grumbles in concession. “I am just not used to not moving. I want to kill something.”

Alisaie coughs out a startled laugh, and Ch’ari grins. “Gods, as do I, but we have our orders! Two weeks. No travel, no fights.”

“Sneak a coblin in here when you get out of this joint and I’ll pay for your sweets for a month.”

“Not a chance.”

-

“Not that I doubt your s-sSS-killed hands, Krile, I would never. But do bandages need changing thisoften?”

“In this specific case, yes,” Krile says, clearly not willing to entertain him while he chatters distractingly. “Might I remind you you were falling apart before we got to you with healing magics, and therefore you will be suffering the consequences for as long as a normal wound takes to heal naturally.”

“Peachy,” Ch’ari groans. He should have been better at avoiding that dumb voidsent Zenos summoned, but it always hid right out of his line of sight until it pounced. Clearly, a cheater, even if its master wouldn’t do a thing like that. Nah, he’d challenge him head-on, evening the playing ground until it was just strength against strength, no tricks, no unfair advantage. Pure, untouched adrenaline, bloodlust, the hunger for feeling alive. 

… Ch’ari will not miss him. But he will think of their encounters as long as it takes him to find something like it, if he ever does. Which is exactly what the prince wanted, drat. He should have taken Zenos to the Gold Saucer. Maybe he’d get really into chocobo racing instead of death matches. 

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a sharp tug in his ribs. “Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Krile says, already casting a light soothing glow over the sticky mess there. Ch’ari buries his head further into the pillow with a groan. 

The door creaks. “My, someone sounds grumpy they’re being tended to,” comes a voice, and Tataru trots in with a small box in her hands. Ch’ari’s ears perk up. 

“Am not grumpy, I’m injured. What’s that?”

“Medicine,” Tataru says bluntly, and then gets a sly grin. “And a handful of pastry fish, fresh from the oven.”

“Tataru you’re my favorite. Have I ever told you you’re my favorite? You are. Hands down,” Ch’ari says, already sniffing the air to catch the smell, his tail whacking the edge of the bed. “I don’t even care that it’s bribery to get me to drink that foul tincture, I love you.”

Tataru laughs, bright and open, and even Krile huffs a bit in amusement. 

-

Alphinaud is asleep when he wanders into the main rooms, and Ch’ari considers dropping something onto the table to wake him up, but decides against it. He’s not all that sure how mana works — or mana overexertion, or… well, Lyse called it a chakra, but Ari isn’t a monk, and he’s not sure what straining or breaking one of them entails. He just knows the kid needs to sleep a bunch to get his aether back, and Ari shouldn’t be startling him so bad he breaks something again. If that’s how that works. He’d rather not risk it. 

Instead, he wanders over to Estinien, who is brooding in his Dragoon Corner. Also seemingly asleep until one eye cracks open, trained on his approach. 

“Dragoon,” Ch’ari says.

“…Cat,” Estinien replies in greeting. Ari snorts, the joke he made about having nine lives clearly amusing or at least annoying the Elezen to this day. 

“Guarding your nest, are we? I didn’t think we’d see you stick around this long.”

Estinien grunts. “Aye. Under normal circumstances I’d rather be off by now. But as long as…” he frowns. It’s always difficult for him to differentiate between draconic instincts and his own, and then subsequently translate them into human words, something he and Ch’ari have only spoken of briefly when Nidhogg’s lingering presence wanted to clash with what was left of Hraesvelgr in Ch’ari’s body. Simultaneously feral and overtly made of higher thought, the presence of the dragon is as long-lived as the beasts themselves. “As long as my ward is in need of protection, I will stay,” he settles on. And then his expression squishes, pained. “And… the pink one threatened me if I were to leave without a clean bill of health.”

Ch’ari laughs, then covers his mouth quickly to muffle it. “Ah, the jailer. No escaping that.” 

“Indeed.”

-

“Raha, you need any help with anything?”

G’raha looks up from his books, surprised. The Warrior is standing over his shoulder, swath in bandages and a simple shirt and slacks, his tail swishing. “Do I need any help with anything?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no, I don’t think so… resigned to being monitored as we are, I have no new tasks which require my attention, and so…”

“Let me rephrase,” Ch’ari interrupts. “Please do you need help with anything.”

G’raha blinks. And then splits into a smile, ears giving a quick one-two wiggle. “My friend, I am quite sure we can find something to do. Something very calm and stressless, but something nonetheless. What is your opinion on magic circles?”

[klopford]

My thoughts on the Dawntrail extended teaser

Spoilers, duh, at least through 6.5

First of all I'm disappointed we didn't see Krile's new job. Viper looks cool, but eh it's not for me.

About the division in the Scions: I'm already banking on the female Hrothgar wanting to recruit us for whatever side she's on in the succession thing, while Thancred and Urianger's "client" is the opposition.

Krile is going to Tural most likely to speak with Galool Ja Ja, but we don't know if his side is the one we're supporting for succession or not. Maybe Krile is not on the boat with us after all and she's going separately? Maybe there are three sides to the conflict and Krile/Galool will also be opposing whoever we're siding with?

The Twins are certainly going along as an opportunity to take a break as they were told, and to continue looking for ways to support Garlemald. Alphinaud is definitely going to get involved in politics around the succession and probably try to establish an alliance between Tural and Garlemald. Alisaie is just there to help out and also find her own things to do. Seems she might befriend a Moblin? (I think that's what threw the fruit to her)(edit: nvm it was a Mamool Ja. It was 4am when I watched this lol).

Now... about why we haven't actually gotten a full glimpse of Alphinaud in the trailer yet...

Back when 6.4 happened and Thancred and Urianger discussed their client seeking Archons specifically, I had the suspicion that either the WoL or the Twins were going to be nominated for Archon status. The fact that after 6.5, if you speak to Alisaie hanging around at the estate, she says Fourchenault wants to have a word with you... I started to get the feeling that Fourchenault wants to nominate his children as Archons. Now, I know Archons can only be nominated by other Archons, but one of the wikis says that Fourchenault is one. We haven't seen his tattoo though...

Maybe we haven't seen Alphinaud yet because he's got the mark now? What if, after becoming an Archon, the client recruits him too, and now he has to be a double agent like Urianger was?

Which is actually kind of disappointing because if anyone deserves to become an Archon, it would be Alisaie for discovering the cure for tempering. Maybe she declines the honor? We don't see a mark on her in the trailer... could be the camera angles, could be editing, could be she chooses to have it put somewhere we don't see like her father did, who knows.

...Or we can just go with the more popular fan theory right now that Alphinaud hits his growth spurt first. Which would also be very cool! The other theory is he's actually standing near the female Hrothgar or has dialogue with her in the final trailer. Which is also cool too!

But whatever happens to Alphinaud, I think we're going to see it in 6.55. And then they'll be free to show him fully in the trailer.

Ugh! January can't come fast enough!

[morganali-writes]

Wedding WIP

Filling out a character meme had me thinking about this WIP that I've had sitting unfinished for over a year now apparently. I will come back to it, but this is where it's at so far ✌️😴

“And we definitely can’t just elope?”

Artoirel dragged his hands down his face and sighed, otherwise not moving from where he lay on the chaise lounge.

“As terribly tempting as the notion is, I can think of at least three to four individuals that would be furious should you run off and wed without their knowledge or involvement – to say nothing of my own family and the expectations therein.” Cessalie slumped further into her wooden desk chair with a groan.

Tataru would have my head, tis true – and Alisaie might never forgive me. Gods, what a nuisance.” Long moments passed, with naught but the ticking of the mantle chronometer to fill the space.

‘I have… a suggestion,” began Artoirel, only moving to raise a finger to emphasise his statement. “Chapel wedding, witnesses and small wedding party only, reception for family and close friends at the house afterwards.”

Cessalie looked at him with a thoughtful frown on her face, then rose from the bureau to sit by his head on the chaise. He opened his eyes to look at her as she began threading her fingers gently through his hair.

“That sounds… that might be tolerable.” Artoirel huffed a laugh.

“Tolerable is a good start. I daresay we have the beginnings of a plan.” Cessalie looked down at him with a wistful smile.

“Yes… Yes alright. Let’s make it happen.” She paused a moment and grimaced. “Just as soon as I drag everyone back from the First.”

-----

It had been one thing after another without ceasing. Getting everyone safely home had been an ordeal to begin with, but gladly they had all awoken back in the Source with relatively little incident, all things considered. Hardly had the scions recovered before they were making their separate ways across Eorzea – treating with diplomats and developing cures for tempering, which turned into treating with pirates and kobolds for a united La Noscea.

Not literal moments had passed as that whole business concluded when the towers began to appear across the land – and with them, the Ascian and his pet primal. This heretofore unknown Ascian – Fandaniel – arrived at the palace in Ala Mhigo, announcing his plan to trigger an end to all life on the Star.

After that, of course, things had begun to happen very fast. They treated a millennia-old dragon for tempering. Immediately they were then flung into another conflict to protect the Amalj’aa, and to strike down Fandaniel’s primal pet – Lunar Bahamut. They had won the day, but Arenvald had been gravely injured on his mission with Fordola, and Alphinaud was quietly in a state about it.

And now, at the last, Krile was off on a voyage to treat with Sharlayan directly. For a moment at least, there was naught else to do but await their answer to her petition for aid.

Cessalie was feeling impatient. Perhaps a little selfish. Just for once in her life she wanted something for herself and every moment waiting felt like seconds lost before the next crisis overtook them.

“My, what a dark cloud that is hanging over your head! I’ve never seen such a frown.” Flinching at the sound, Cessalie looked up from where she sat at one of the tables in the Rising Stones – suddenly very conscious of how cross she must have looked, and how far she had slid down in her chair.

“Oh, Tataru. Pay me no mind, I was just thinking…” The scions’ ever diligent secretary hopped up onto the seat adjacent to her. “How long do you suppose it will be until we hear from Krile?” Tataru crossed her arms and her expression turned thoughtful.

“That’s a good question. Krile said it could be a few days for her to get back to Sharlayan, and Gods only know how long it might take her to get an audience with the Forum.” Slowly Cessalie nodded to herself.

“So perhaps there’s time then…” she murmured. Tataru tilted her head quizzically.

“Time?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to do, now that everyone is back home –” Cessalie stopped, and her eyes slowly widened as a thought occurred to her. “… And now I think of it, you may be just who I need to help me achieve it.” Looking around furtively to make sure there were none to overhear, Cessalie leaned in.

“Tataru – I need your organisational expertise. Can you keep a secret?” The lalafellan secretary nodded eagerly, her interest piqued.

“How do you feel about planning a wedding?”

-----

It had been a near thing, corralling Tataru’s excitement before she aroused the suspicions of others – quiet though the Rising Stones was at the present. Expectations now tempered, the two sat in the otherwise unoccupied Dawn’s Respite. There was a decidedly mischievous glint in the secretary’s eye as she began preparing an itemised action list.

“I cannot overstate this enough Tataru, but we do not want a big event. If we could run off and elope without censure, we probably would have done so already.”

“Right, right, not to worry, Cessalie!” she grinned. “I’m sure I can wrangle a chapel and a priest at short notice… Now, have you given any thought to who you want to attend?”

“One or two witnesses. Artoirel’s family of course. Laniaette. Perhaps the twins… I daresay they could both use some levity.” Tataru nodded absently as she jotted down notes.

“Mhmmm. And for a reception afterwards?”

“Ugh. I barely know where to begin. Artoirel suggested something small at the Manor for family and close friends, perhaps?” The lalafell nodded.

“I can work with that. I’ll speak to the Count and get his thoughts. What about a dress?” Cessalie groaned and dropped her head to the table with a light bump.

“I don’t suppose I can get away with my Holy Day best, on this occasion.”

“What Holy Day best clothes do you own? And no, the one dress that you wore to dinner with Aymeric does not count.” Cessalie moaned petulantly.

“Oh, Cessalie, you haven’t thought this through at all.” Otherwise not moving, she raised her index finger in a point.

“No, no, I have – at length.” She grumbled into the table. “And while I do yearn to tie hands with my, ah, lover in an official sense – the rigmarole around doing so drives me well and truly up the wall.” Tataru smiled and gave Cessalie’s hand a sympathetic pat. She turned her head to the side on the table to face the secretary.

“You know as well as I that Ishgard’s stock in propriety and public perception are as ingrained in the nobility and the Halonic Orthodoxy specifically as they are in Ul’dah. For every good man in the city, there is another looking to advance his own station at the expense of someone else’s misfortune.” Tataru nodded in agreement.

“Ishgard is certainly just like home in that regard.”

“I’d just as soon as say hang the lot of them, but I’ve had the dreadful misfortune to fall in love with a Count – so there are at least some token matters of ceremony that needs must be performed to satisfy the powers that be. The old order might be changing, but it is a slow and onerous process.”

“Misfortune? I know you don’t mean that,” Tataru said with a wry smile, and Cessalie huffed a laugh, sitting back in her chair.

“No, you’re right… I’m very lucky, I know it. Bless you for humouring this fit of childishness.”

“On the contrary – I should thank you for opening up and asking for help for once!” she said, a pointed look on her face. Cessalie laughed as she placed a hand over her heart in feigned woe.

“Oh! You wound me, Tataru – but I cannot say that you’re wrong.” Tataru grinned a wicked grin.

“And as you said, you’ve come to the right person – leave everything to me!” All of a sudden, Tataru leapt to her feet, standing on her chair with her hands on her hips. “Just you watch – by day’s end I’ll have everything in place to see you wedded before the week is out – on my honour as the best secretary in Eorzea – No, on the Star itself!” Cessalie chuckled helplessly and Tataru levelled a determined look at her.

“Ready your things, and meet me at the Bonanza,” she ordered, before jumping from her seat and making for the door with haste. “We’re going to Ishgard!”

-----

“Cessalie? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Alphinaud’s anxious queries began the moment she came into earshot. Alisaie stood beside him, arms folded.

“Tataru bustled us out here without a word of explanation, only that you needed our help,” she said with a shrug. “Obviously we’d be glad to give it, but I should like to know what grave and terrible business you’ve roped us into now.” A look of disbelief crossing her face, Cessalie looked to Tataru – who waved back cheerfully from the deck of the Bonanza. Sighing, she turned to the twins with a grimace.

“I’m so sorry, it is hardly as world shattering as what she might have led you to believe – but I am glad you’re both here.” Taking a deep breath, she looked to both of them and took their hands in hers.

“I am… getting married,” she said, with all the weight of someone bearing a most dire missive.

“What? To whom? This all seems rather sudden.” Alisaie’s eyes were round with disbelief – and while her brother was no less surprised, the delight that lit up his face was unmistakable.

“Oh, my friend! But this is wonderful news!” he said, clasping her hand in both of his.

“But who is she marrying?” Alisaie said, gripping his arm.

“Why, the Count de Fortemps, of course.” She squinted at him, confused.

“Lord Edmont? He’s rather old, isn’t he?”

“Oh gods.” Cessalie’s mind raced as she stared into the middle distance.

“No, no, Lord Edmont has retired – Lord Artoirel is the Count now,” Alphinaud affirmed with a knowing air. Alisaie rolled her eyes.

“Oh yes, the pretty one. You’ll forgive me if I can’t quite recall clearly – I was recovering from being poisoned for most of my brief stay in Ishgard,” she retorted with a dry huff.

“If we can focus, please,” Cessalie said weakly. The twins startled to attention.

“Yes of course – my apologies, my friend.” said Alphinaud.

“And mine,” followed Alisaie, sheepishly. “I admit I am a little shocked, but you deserve all the happiness in this world. I am glad for you, truly.” Alisaie squeezed her hand and stared back at her with solemn eyes. “What would you have us do?” Cessalie looked at them both in turn with a wistful smile.

“Truly, I’m just glad you’re both here – you’re so young, and we’ve been through such horrors together. For once, I thought it might be nice if you joined me for a joyful occasion.” Both twins looked up at her with baby coeurl eyes, speechless.

“That being said,” she said as she clasped their shoulders and gently urged them towards the Bonanza before any one of the three of them started weeping in earnest, “I am sure that Tataru has all manner of important tasks for you both – Our chief of organisation is in charge today.” Alphinaud laughed heartily.

“Of that I have no doubt – let us be about it then!” he said, and Alisaie nodded, punching her fist into her hand in emphasis.

“Come on then, you lot!” Tataru called to them, motioning them to board the airship. “We’ll talk about plans on the way!”

-----

Pausing mid-quill stroke, Artoirel tilted his head curiously, wondering at the sound that had broken his concentration. Some sort of commotion on the street perhaps? He shook his head and resolved to pay it no mind, turning his attention back to the missive he had been penning.

Before he could put ink to paper once more, he found himself out of his seat – the sound of quiet footsteps tapping their way ever closer down the hall. He was halfway to his office door before her gentle knock came.

“Cissy?” he breathed as he pulled open the door. Miracle of all miracles, there she was – smiling brightly at the nickname.

“I thought I— ough,” he said as she all but launched herself at him, catching him tightly about the waist. He laughed and brought his arms around her. “And I am very glad to see you also, my dearest. What occasion brings you home so suddenly?”

“Ah, well,” she said, casting about for words to say as her face flushed a rosy hue. “The occasion is you and I, I suppose. Let me explain—” she put her hands on his arms as if to steady him, before he could even begin to process her words. “Have you kept abreast of the latest regarding the towers?” His brow creased in a frown, and he nodded.

“Yes – I was relieved to hear of your victory at Paglth’an, though I admit I have not had a chance to read the report in full.”

“No matter, let me catch you up,” she said, ushering him back across the threshold of his office.

Some minutes later, Cessalie stood before the armchair he occupied (the one she usually favoured when she was home) and regarded him with a thoughtful expression.

“The Sharlayans have ever been isolationists, do you think they will respond favourably to your suit?” She sighed and hung her head.

“It would be a lie if I said I believed they’d lend us their considerable knowledge willingly, but for the moment, there is nothing for it but to wait until Krile sends word.” She stepped into the space between his knees and reached to brush a lock of hair behind his ear.

“It might be a few days, perhaps a week or two before the next crisis is upon us – which,” she gestured quietly for emphasis, “brings us back to the purpose of my visit.”

“I’ve been thinking about your suggestion,” she glanced away, bashful once more. Puzzled, Artoirel reached for her, tracing his fingers along her jaw.

“My suggestion?”

“Of a chapel wedding,” she clarified in a rush.

“Oh.” Artoirel nodded in recognition, then stopped as understanding dawned on him. Oh.

“Every time some new crisis happens I’ve been thinking on it, actually – thinking about when we’ll finally have the time to plan in earnest.”

“Cessalie,” he said, though she did not seem to hear him.

“I know it’s rather short notice, but if the Star should be engulfed in fire on the morrow, I… I should rather like to face it at your side, so to speak.” Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle tug.

“Cessalie, come here.” She blinked and focused on his face, before smiling sheepishly and letting him pull her into his lap.

“You wish us to wed in only a few days?” he asked, a little incredulously, though the corner of his mouth twitched. She looked back at him with those solemn, dark eyes.

“If you would consent to do so,” she replied gravely.

“Dearest Cissy,” he murmured, pulling her close and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I believe—yes. Yes I would.” She huffed a relieved laugh, then pulled him in for a kiss.

“Good. I’m glad. Thank you, Artie,” she said, tucking her head under his chin like a contented cat. Helplessly he shook his head and laughed.

“I can think of nothing I would like to do more, although – the logistics arranging things at such short notice may prove tiresome indeed.”

Cessalie quickly sat up, a mischievous smile upon her face.

“Ah, but I have enlisted help, you see.”

“Have you, now,” he said with a chuckle.

“I have – only the finest receptionist on this very Star, amongst other capable sorts,” she said as she scrambled back off his lap and pulled him to his feet. “Come along, I left my guests at the mercy of your father in order to fetch you – we ought to see to them before they send out a search party.” Artoirel let her pull him out of his office with a wry smile.

“Very well – let it not be said that the Count de Fortemps is a poor host.”

-----

In seemingly no time at all, Tataru had outlined a plan and allocated tasks for everyone – presumably there had been heated discussions with the former Count while she had gone to fetch Artoirel. Had she more time to ponder it, Cessalie might have felt a sudden unease as to Tataru’s own grand schemes – but for the moment, there were a laundry list of things to be achieved.

Artoirel, Alphinaud and Tataru had stayed behind at the house – with their combined organisational and diplomacy skills, as well as a wealth of institutional knowledge, they were committed to arranging the logistical side of things. Cessalie had been given blessedly little to do, comparatively – though, Tataru had insisted, no less important.

As she and Alisaie bustled out the door, she thanked the Gods it was clear day – customarily chilly as Ishgard always was, but otherwise as pleasant a day as was otherwise possible.

“Where are we headed?” Alisaie inquired as they made their way across the promenade.

“The Jewelled Crozier may be the best place to start, though I’ve a mind to enlist another for our excursion.” Cessalie stopped then at the entrance to the Haillenarte manor and addressed the steward there.

“Good morning, may I enquire if the Lady Laniaette is at home today?” The steward smiled at her.

“Ah, Mistress Sombreterre – you are in luck, she has just recently returned from Cloudtop to visit with the family, shall I announce you?”

“Wonderful! If you would be so kind,” she said, face lit up in a smile.

“This way, if you please,” he said with a bow, before ushering them inside.

Minutes later, Laniette came bounding down the stairs in a fashion some might have called unladylike.

“Cessalie!” she exclaimed as she strode across the parlour to wrap her up in a friendly embrace. “Gods, what luck – I feel as if we are always missing each other.” Standing back, she then noticed Alisaie at her side.

“Oh, forgive me, welcome to our home – You have the look of young Alphinaud, but I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet.”

“You have the right of it,” Cessalie said, putting a hand on Alisaie’s shoulder. “Laniaette, I’d like you to meet Alisaie Leveilleur – Alphinaud’s twin sister, and dear friend and associate both.” Alisaie flushed red, then made to bow politely.

“Alisaie, this is Laniaette – she became a dear friend to me during our lengthy stay in Ishgard.” Laniaette smiled brightly.

“Delighted. Now that we’re all properly introduced, what brings you to visit this day?”

“I was hoping to beg a favour, actually,” Cessalie began with a sheepish look. “I’ve been tasked to find a nice dress to wear, and I’d rather hoped you’d join us.”

“Ah, dress shopping, my old enemy,” Laniaette sighed, then looked to her with a wry smile. “Of course I shall – I may not relish the task, but I know a good few tailors, and there is the Crozier besides. Dare I ask, what is the occasion?” This time it was Cessalie’s turn to blush. She tilted her head to the side, considering her words.

“Well…” Alisaie sighed impatiently, rolling her eyes.

“She is to be wed,” she said with a huff. Laniaette blinked in surprise, her mouth parting wordlessly.

“I beg your pardon? When?” Cessalie grimaced.

“Within the week, Gods willing.” Laniaette raised her brows at that. “Which reminds me of another favour I had yet to ask – It is to be a small affair, with very few guests – I was hoping you would consent to be one of my witnesses.”

“Hardly a favour at all, it would be an honour my dear—wait. Oh, no.” Cessalie nodded gravely, as Alisaie regarded them both with a puzzled mien.

“We do have to invite Artoirel’s family, Lani.” Resigned, she hung her head.

“A favour it is then. But you still need a dress – let me fetch a warm coat and we shall be off at once.”

[brineffxiv]

We gather in Limsa Lominsa, awaiting the boat that will take us to Sharlayan, where we will reunite with Krile and set about attempting to solve the many problems that face us.

Hoary Boulder and Coultenet stop by to see us off and to make sure we've got everyone's well wishes and assurances that they'll take care of things while we're gone. And so, with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation, we set off!

Be still my heart! Is that the voice of Emet-Selch!?

It is him, isn't it?? Oh, I have missed you terribly. Are you narrating this expansion? How? You're dead. Oh, I might cry.

Oh no, now I'm definitely going to cry. Why is the sad music playing!?

Goodness, Tataru couldn't spring for a cabin? Even a bunk? We've just got to sleep here on the floor? Maybe I will go for that walk.

Uh...

Oh, my God.

Hydaelyn. I... have some questions. I feel. Somewhat betrayed. More so on behalf of my friends, than myself. For while it is true you have never - that I know of - done wrong by me, I have complaint over how you have treated my fellow warriors of light and your oracles.

A hard choice, to be sure, but I wanted to know more than I wanted to rage.

And now I wish I had chosen the other answer. No, it is not clear to me why now. Why not before, any of the times before? Why not tell us yourself? Why did you not reveal the truth about yourself and the "servants of darkness" ? Why did we have to find out from Emet-Selch what was really going on here? Don't you think that was a little bit important? If you wanted me to trust in you, why have you never been forthcoming with me?

No thanks to you.

And that's another thing. I realize, as a primal, you are bound by the desires of those who brought you forth, from that moment in time. But. What would be so bad about the restoration of the old world? The way we are supposed to be? Why fight so hard to preserve the broken remnants of an accident?

Now, certainly, in the present, we are peoples worthy of living on. But why initially? In the immediate aftermath of the sundering, before we had rebuilt, why not help put the world back together? Was your drive to subdue Zodiark so strong that you could not consider anything that would bring him power?

It seems to me, that as the fight went on, the Ascians became increasingly more in the wrong. But at the start. From where I stand. You were the villain.

Why do you value me so highly. That you would expend the effort to say these words to me when you left Ardbert to languish in perpetual solitary confinement for over a century? When you allowed a succession of Minfilias to fight and die without a word? When your neglect forced the champions of the First to turn to the Ascians for help to save their world? They gave their lives and you wouldn't even speak to them!

I am so mad. I am so very angry with you. I do not understand, and I am furious that you would expend the effort to speak with me just to tell me we're in danger. No duh. We've got a rogue Ascian determined to reenact the Final Days. A problem we wouldn't have if I hadn't gone and killed off the people who were keeping him in line.

If that's supposed to make sense to me I have to tell you it doesn't. How in the world am I supposed to find out what you promised in another age.

I can tell you care about me. You maybe even love me, as a mother should love a child. And I think there is a part of me that reciprocates. That Rhesh'a loves you too. But we cannot see past the injustice of it all. A mother should not pick favorites among her children.

Ahh and now we arrive at Sharlayan. Endwalker is shaping up to be a doozy; I'm already emotionally exhausted.

I am. Unprepared.

Eeee! New city! And Emet-Selch is introducing it to me! Happy happy day!

What happens if we get refused entry? Do we have to get back on the boat?

Right, got it. No talking about the Scions. My lips are zipped.

Ah, yes, I should get around to playing Eureka at some point...

Haha omg. That was... SO long ago. Even longer for G'raha. He went away and lived an entire life and more in the meantime.

I've always wondered what was behind the placements of Archon marks? Clearly the neck is standard, but Urianger chose to put his on his face for some reason? And the pictures I've seen of Louisoix show him with his on his forehead. Hmm... Things to think about.

Trust Fourchenault to have made things difficult. At least Alisaie and Alphinaud aren't precluded from entering. Thankfully it seems that being disowned didn't revoke their citizenship.

I am an Artisan, thank you very much. I didn't level all my DoH/DoL skills to 90 by Stormblood for nothing now.

AHAHAHA! Poor Estinien. He can't think of a job.

Thankfully, Krile arrives to the rescue. Estinien is officially a mercenary. And we are now free to explore Sharlayan, myself with G'raha and Krile in tow!

And here is where I must stop the post, as I have hit my max image allotment, lol. Welcome to Endwalker.

[driftward]

.deity

There is no faith like the faith of a child in their parents. Their love unquestionable. Their word gospel. Her world was theirs, and their beliefs were her truth. A tether between their blood and hers, nigh-unbreakable. It is only as she grew that she learned that they were fallible, their words as weak as any person’s, their ways as imperfect as anyone’s, their world only the same tiny slice all people get. And yet. Still, the bond endured. Still, the words soaked in and lived in her. Still, the hurt stayed.

And so when her self doubt rose like bile, churning in her gut, when self doubt turned sharp and pressed its blade against her neck, when fear pressed down upon her like an oppressive miasma to rob her of breath, when her self loathing flowed from the gaps in her soul where she was supposed to be fed and reared into a monster that is the summation of her fears…

Its form might be as though akin to Halone, but it wore the face of her mother, and the weapon it wielded felt like truth, come to free her from the burden she was.

grounded

Y'shtola had given the remote research team their marching orders, and as she left their company, she could hear them beginning to plan. Y'zel explaining the many things he had heard, G'raha and Krile beginning to consider new locations to check.

She trusted them, and so she left them to it. She had a different task to perform, and was now free to turn fully to it.

"Well, little one," she said to the doll she held in her hand, its soulgem charged near to full by the efforts of its compatriots. She gave it one last burst of aether, and murmured the spell that would bring it fully back to life.

"Tell me," she said. "What secrets do you hold?"

***echoes***

The wings vanished from the deity's form as it strode forward, kicking her down the stairs and following after her as she fell.

"Worthless," came the familiar voices of a dozen people she had known, looked up to, admired, followed. "Irritating. Underfoot. Why are you here?

She tumbled, coming to rest at last in the lowest dais in this strange place. As she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, she swore under her breath. She was freezing. She was hurt. She was alone.

She was going to die down here.

She struggled to her feet anyway.

She forced herself to her feet, anyway.

She would stand, anyway.

And then, she remembered.

Footsteps came up behind her, getting closer.

She was freezing, true. She was hurt, and she did not know when the hurt had started or when it would end.

But so long as she had her memories, she was never truly alone.

grounded

Y'shtola sighed. She was not sure what she had expected from the remnants of the soul of the little fairy. She had hoped it would have some clue as to finding her missing friend, or some memory of what had transpired in the lab. But it seemed confused, trying to orient itself, turning itself about.

Disappointing, but not unexpected. She prepared to dismiss it so that it may rest.

And then she heard it.

A voice, determined to make itself heard.

***echoes***

The monster in front of her did not respond to her outburst, but that was alright with her.

She did not know how to fight back, to defeat it, but that was alright with her.

She might die here, but that was alright with her.

Zoissette had said what she needed to say.

"I am sorry, Lavender," she whispered. "I do not think we will be making it home."

And then, she heard a voice, determined to make itself heard.

grounded

Y'shtola's eyes widened as she listened, hearing a familiar voice as it declared its name, as it declared its determination, as it let her know...

"We can find them! I can hear them!"

***echoes***

"Madam Commander!"

Zoissette heard Lavender call out to her, and she turned her head in time to see her familiar as she swept up to her. Dark energies flowed around Lavender, her form had changed, and there was a weapon in her hand, but Zoissette was overjoyed to see her.

"My strength is yours! We fight, together!"

[voidsentprinces]

I know Ishikawa basically gift wrapped us an entire catboy fan, but what I really want the story to provide at some point is someone I can imagine Warrior of Light walking in a home to. Absolutely wiped, the armor weighing like a tonne of stone, dragging feet, and then you collapse from exhaustion and there is someone there to catch you. Gently lead you to bed, prep you and then tuck you in and snuggle with. And I dunno, currently I can only imagine Urianger and Estinien maybe doing that. Alisaie is knee deep in a sort of hero worship/teenage crush depending how you read it, Alphinaud is still coming into his own despite growing so much, Thancred has his own baggage and would probably follow after us in the same position of being absolutely wiped out, Y'shtola always seems to have her own things going on, G'raha is like ascended fanboy who has learned to control himself but he is still super worshippy and not really healthy helpful, you know? Like, he needs time to work on himself and see us as a person cause he is still neck deep in putting us on a pedastel when he NEEDS to see us as an actual person. Zero might also be a good option, she is coming to understand she can lean on others, but I think she still needs a little time. Estinien and Urianger feel like characters who will picks us up off the ground and care for us when we can no longer go on. Estinien has come a long way since Heavensward and after being possessed by Nidhogg, he seems to of developed a sort of Big Brother/Caretaker instinct with Vrtra and Tiamat both as well as with us in general. Urianger also seems to care deeply about us but is still a bit awkward in expressing it and has his own way of doing things. Like instead of telling us directly at first he was going to reject the Loporrits offer to continue with the Moon ship plan, he wanders off and gets ink and we literally have to shadow him before he comes clean.

So maybe Urianger or Estinien can be that for us. I, personally, cannot imagine any other Scion doing it. Tataru and Krile also haven't been front and center enough to get a handle on them. I know we say Tataru is the heart of the party but I feel bad if we collapsed on the poor girl and she had to carry us to bed, all four feet of her.

[astrology-bf]

Causae et Curae

(CW: Death Mention, Implied NSFW, MSQ Spoilers)

Every healer has their signature.

Alphinaud’s is best described as mise en place; only acting once a plan has been devised based on the facts. Krile’s is quick and quiet: over in short order without a bruise or scar to show. Y’shtola’s style is elegant, while Urianger’s process is inscrutable till the last (at which point you might end up cured of aches you didn’t know you had). And as for Alisaie… Perhaps we should move on.

One might not imagine the successor of Shatotto to have any interest in the healing arts, but the Warrior of Light had endeavored to acquire the skill as a function of his studies - his goal was to know everything of magic, after all, not merely those arts useful for destruction. And while the name Ifan Kaleid might in many minds conjure crackles of ianthine levin or a diamond shoal of arcane shields, his signature as a healer (at least by G’raha Tia’s estimation) was his patience and his gentleness.

Ifan took his time. He made sure that whomever he was healing sat or lay in total comfort while he attended to their wounds. A gentle process, if not quick, guided more by intuition than by rote - more like art, than medicine, if G’raha had to put it into words. But what he noticed most was Ifan always hummed quietly to himself whenever he was healing.

Such was the case where they were at present: a room within the Rising Stones where G’raha sat upon a couch, his right arm raised so Ifan could attend it as the latter sat cross-legged facing him. His injury hadn’t been severe; a few gashes gained by leaping in front of his beloved whilst they dealt with recent threats. A small smile was gracing Ifan’s lips, his eyes were softly focused on his work, whilst G’raha’s ears were perked as he tried to pick the tune from Ifan’s voice.       

…dance with souls afire. May ember catch and red-gold spark rise to new heights. May we want for naught coin can buy. Never see wealth’s river dry…

His ears twitched as he identified the hymn. “In the Balance?” asked G’raha.

Ifan’s humming ceased as he raised his head to meet his lover’s gaze. “Hm?” 

G’raha smiled with a little tilt of his head. “I refer to your humming, dear heart.” he explained.

The magician blinked in realization and shook his head with a faint chuckle. “Oh. Ah… Sorry, just a habit.” said Ifan. 

“Not at all, ‘tis a most pleasing ambience for convalescence.” said G’raha as his smile grew to a small contended grin.

Ifan nodded and gave G’raha a fond smile in return. “‘Aye, I have very fond memories of Sister U’zafye humming hymns to the other orphans and I when we were sick. I daresay that’s where I picked it up.” he explained, a wistful note within his voice.

G’raha’s grin grew further. “As said, ‘tis most pleasing. You’ve a lovely voice.” he said, his ears flicking as he gave a little waggle of his head.

“Don’t think buttering me up is going to get you out of a scolding for jumping in front of me like that.” returned the mage, giving the other man a very pointed look.

The former exarch’s expression settled into something rather regal. “I shall be happy to endure as many scoldings as needed to ensure your safety, my beloved champion.” he stated, authoritatively.

Ifan rolled his eyes. “I swear to Thaliak, I’d let you get away with murder.” he chuckled with a small shake of his head as he returned his attention to his task.

A few moments passed in quiet. G’raha’s gaze drifted to his arm - the right. The one he’d sacrificed in solemn service. The one he hadn’t missed until they had renewed affairs back on the First. “'Tis rather strange, I had already resigned myself to the loss of this arm. Now I find myself quite afraid to lose it again.” chuckled G’raha, mirthlessly. 

Ifan glanced up at his lover with a faint frown on his lips, scrutinizing the miqo’te’s features for a moment. “'Raha?” he asked, quietly.

“Hm?” hummed G’raha.

Ifan paused. “You do know that you were enough for me back then, aye?” he asked, gently.

G’raha blinked, one ear flattening quizzically. “To when do you refer?” he asked.

Ifan paused again. “When we were on the First.” he elaborated, equally as gently.

There was yet another pause. Then G’raha chuckled once. “I had forgotten how well you knew my mind.” His ears settled slightly - not lowered, but enough that showed some trouble in his thoughts.

Ifan leaned over to gently bump his forehead against the other man’s. “I’d like to know it a bit better. Gil for your thoughts, my lord?” coaxed Ifan as he leaned back to continue healing, giving G’raha space to speak.

At length, G’raha spoke. “I confess some guilt over how patient you were with me then given my... limitations. Especially as things progressed.” He glanced over to meet Ifan’s gaze with a glint of guilt within his ruby gaze. 

“I was more worried for you than anything, 'Raha.” soothed Ifan, a sympathetic expression on his face. “And we found plenty of ways around it, I was never really wanting.” A gentle smile danced upon his lips, which proved sufficient to salve G’raha back to some level of good humor.

G’raha felt his lips pull into a small smile in response. “I've no doubt, dear heart. But your happiness is paramount to me, and I simply wish to be able to satisfy you.” Then he leaned over to reciprocate the bump between their heads.

Ifan’s smile grew into a grin. “Well, you certainly have never had that problem.” he snickered as his eyes once more lowered to his lover’s arm.

“And I am exceedingly gratified to hear that.” G’raha answered with a smug waggle of his head, followed by a bout of mutual chuckling. Then they sat in quiet again a little while, though G’raha spoke soon after. “On that matter…” he began, slowly. “The thought did occur to me…” The miqo’te trailed off. His ears settled, his lips began to purse, and-

"Don't clench your fist, 'Raha." 

G’raha blinked, then shook his head. "Heh. Sorry. 'Tis difficult to say..." he chuckled with a bashful note within his voice.

Ifan’s eyebrow rose. "In a good way, or a bad way?" he asked with a slight tilting of his head.

"A good way. 'Tis simply embarrassing." answered G’raha with another bashful chuckle as some color tinged his cheeks.

Ifan rolled his eyes. "Pfft, 'embarrassing', he says. This coming from the man that couldn’t even wait for us to leave the Tower before wanting to f-" He found himself cut off by the fingers of the archon’s left hand upon his lips.

"You are the most incorrigible individual I have met in the course of more than a century!" pouted G’raha, his ears and tail slightly bristled.

"I love you too, 'Raha." mumbled Ifan through G’raha’s fingers with a smirk.

G’raha simply couldn’t maintain his indignation. His fingers came away as he chuckled and shook his head. "And I you, Ifan.” Then he mustered up his courage. “I was curious if you would wish to... share our bed. With others."

Ifan blinked. His gaze had lowered back to G’raha’s arm, but now he raised his head and stared directly forward. Then he turned his head to meet his lover’s gaze. "I beg your pardon, 'Raha?" he asked, a faintly incredulous chuckle wisping in his voice.

G’raha’s cheeks quickly matched the color of his hair. He stammered. "As I said, your satisfaction is paramount to me, and I would not wish to deprive-" he found his words silenced with a little kiss.

Ifan gave the other man a gentle smile of fondness as he leaned back to resume his work. "'Raha, I know I have a reputation, but you are more than enough for me." he said. 

"As you are for me, Ifan.” answered G’raha with insistence. Then he let out a little breath. “Perhaps it is also for myself." he admitted.

A snort left Ifan’s nose. “Ah, yes. Old men and their perversions.” he snickered.

G’raha simply stuck his tongue out, and Ifan did the same. 

Then Ifan smirked and gave a nod. "Well, if you are asking if I'm comfortable with it: yes, I am.” he said, giving G’raha another little bump between their foreheads. “Did you have anyone specific in mind?" he asked.

G’raha shook his head. "Not... immediately. We agreed to be honest with one another, and I wished to be so." he stated.

Ifan paused at this. He stared at G’raha for a moment, and simply smiled with feeling surging in his eyes. "And I wish you to know that I thank Menphina for you every day." He leaned over for another little kiss, then leaned back once more to continue with his work. "I will say I am a little curious as to what started this particular train of thought.” he mused.

G’raha paused in turn. He could recall exactly what had begun that train of thought: their meeting with a certain man in Ishgard - specifically, the former Azure Dragoon himself. While G’raha had himself indulged in a little bout of hero worship, everything went quiet as Ifan had approached Estinien. 

They’d stood and stared at one another in tense silence. Ifan’s hands behind his back, Estinien’s arms crossed tight in front. Then the mage had simply circled the dragoon at a slow pace, eyeing him up and down before returning to his front. Then they’d stared again. It was Ifan who spoke first.

“You look well.” Ifan had said with a softness in his eyes but no change in his tone.

“You as well.” replied Estinien. His expression had not changed, but his eyes had faintly crinkled at the corners.

“I’m told I have you to thank for that.” said Ifan. His head was tilted slightly in Estinien’s direction.

“‘Twas simple service.” stated Estinien, a faintly adamant note creeping at the edges of his voice.

“Ah. You still feel you owe me, then?” Ifan had leaned back slightly, head still canted forward so he had to look up through his eyelashes beseechingly.

“Aye.” A strange, declarative finality, but his gaze had softened by another hair.

Ifan had paused. Then he’d smiled and straightened up, stepping forward to close the gap by half a fulm. “Likewise.” he said, fondly.

Estinien had smiled in turn. And G’raha had then realized he’d just witnessed an entirely different conversation than the one within the words that he’d just heard.

G’raha pursed his lips again. “Mrm..."

“”Raha, what did I say about your fist?”

"Estinien and yourself." he forced out.

Ifan blinked again. A little chuckle of a scoff escaped him as he shook his head. “Heh. 'Raha... We don't have that sort of thing." 

G’raha’s ears stilled in surprise. "Oh. I... I apologize for presuming, it simply seemed-"

The magician shook his head, giving G’raha a strained smile. "You aren't wrong, we have been together. Sometimes I also forget that you can read me like writing, yourself." he chuckled, eyes returning to his work.

"I am merely grateful for the chance to study you.” G’raha answered, though the strain on Ifan’s face made his ears lower slightly in concern. “May I ask what you meant by you and he not having that sort of relationship?"

There was a pause. Then Ifan sighed through his nose and nodded. "You never pick the easy questions, hm?"

"Ifan, if it is too painful a subject-" started G’raha.

"None of that. Especially after you've been so honest with your mighty champion, my lord." interrupted Ifan, giving G’raha an admonishingly teasing look. Then he took a breath, then steeled himself, and started speaking. "...We've only... Just the once. The night Haurchefant died." he said, quietly.

G’raha’s ears fell. "I had no notion…” he said, lips parting in surprise at Ifan’s words.

Ifan’s eyes remained focused on his work. “Fairly messed up, hm?" he chuckled mirthlessly.

The miqo’te shook his head and raised his left hand to cup his lover’s cheek. "Not in the slightest, dear heart.” he soothed. “You cannot be expected to act with a clear mind while in pain. No human can."

The magician gave a sad smile and leaned a little into G’raha’s hand before he spoke again. "Honestly, I feel worse for him. He'd never... I was in pain, but so was he. He'd been in pain nearly his whole life. That's why I took that silly wager during the assault on Ishgard. I did want to learn windriding, but I think I really just wanted to get close to him. Be a friend. He let me in, and I repaid him by…” A deep and ragged sigh escaped his chest. “I’d never really felt the need to pray for forgiveness from Menphina before then. Now I just hope she judges me kindly.” he finished as he pursed his lips and sadly shook his head. 

G’raha smoothed a few strands of the hyur’s hair away from his face with his thumb, giving him a gentle smile in turn. "Might I ask if you have spoken of this with him?" he asked, lowering his hand.

Ifan shook his head. "We don't really... Talk like that, necessarily. 'Tis more..." he trailed off as he failed to find the words.

"Body language?" supplied G’raha.

The hyur chuckled softly. "You could say that, aye.” he answered with a nod.

"Well, based on that, how do you think he felt at the time?" asked G’raha with a slight canting of his head and ears.

Ifan paused as he gave the matter thought. "...Worried, I think. His friend was suffering and he didn't know how to help." he said, at length.

G’raha smiled. "I believe he may have, my love." he said, quietly.

"How do you mean?" asked Ifan, glancing up to meet the miqo’te’s gaze.

"Despite what happened, you remained unbroken. And, based on what you have said, I believe that is owed at least in part to Estinien being a comfort to you when you needed it. Nor does he seem to hold any rancor towards you over the matter. He struck me as being quite glad to see you." said G’raha, his tail curling up to rest over one of Ifan’s thighs. 

Ifan gave a little hum, then nodded. "Well, the feeling is mutual. I’m very glad to have him around, I forgot how safe I felt with him watching all the time.” Then he took in a breath, and gave G’raha a smile. “Not that I don't appreciate the way you throw yourself in front of danger for my sake, my lord, even if it worries me to death."

"As your being in danger worries me. And mustn't a lord take the field for his champion's sake from time to time?” teased G’raha imperiously, a little grin upon his lips salving his beloved in turn.

Ifan chuckled. "As you say, my liege.” He shook his head and stuck his tongue between his teeth in a faintly teasing grin. Then he hummed again. “To be entirely honest, that's partly why I couldn't hate you. You were about to give your entire life away for duty, and... I don't blame you for wanting a last bit of happiness, even if it did hurt on my end."

G’raha returned a smile of fondness. "'Twas a lovely evening. My memories of it remain fond, if a little tarnished by my deeds." he agreed with a soft chuckle.

The healing magic faded as Ifan finished up. He took a few minutes to inspect his lover’s arm, then raised it up to press a kiss against his knuckles. "Well. I've already forgiven you for them, so I will be right here waiting for you when you are ready to do the same." he said, smiling. 

"'Tis appreciated, dear heart. As is the healing." G’raha rubbed his forearm, marveling once more at how painless the entire process was. 

"Mhm. 'Tis no trouble at all, even if I know you are more than capable of healing this sort of thing yourself." said Ifan with a rather pointed grin. 

G’raha smirked and leaned his head to bump his forehead against Ifan’s, his tail curling around his lover’s other wrist in thanks. "Perhaps I simply enjoy your hands on me." he chuckled, looking up at Ifan with a smile upon his lips.

Ifan smiled in turn. Then he stood; partially, only enough so that he could swing a leg across G’raha’s lap to straddle him. "Well... If you enjoy them that much..." he purred, a wicked glint gleaming in his eyes.

G’raha’s ears quivered as he placed his hands on Ifan’s hips. Then he paused as he remembered. "As tempting as the offer is, dear heart, we've that meeting with the others this afternoon." he reminded the magician. 

Ifan gave it a moment’s pretense of thought. Then he cocked his head and smirked, and slid his arms around G’raha’s shoulders as he pressed the miqo’te’s back against the couch. "Ah, fuck it. If they want to come looking, they should just be ready for a show. Besides… Didn’t you say you wanted to keep me satisfied?”

G’raha grinned in turn with a devious chuckle of his own, and purred himself as he slid his hands up Ifan’s back. “‘Tis a tall order, but I believe myself equal to the task.”

[zahra-hydris]

finally finished the msq up to dawntrail last night (after about a week of trying to get groups for the trials lmao)

so I found the whole thirteenth storyline really boring before I stopped playing ffxiv last year and coming back to it... it's still kinda boring. it's not *as* boring as it was, but I think it's helped when you're not playing little bits and pieces in the patch drops.

I just found it hard to care too much about azdaja's fate and zero bounced between being likeable and interesting and then kind of flat. golbez wasn't compelling until the last few quests (and even then it was too little too late - I mean he was actually a kind of emet-selch figure but without any of the character depth emet had). it seemed really lacking in any notable character moments from the main crew. and the humour was missing. it became super earnest, especially re: zero's shift into mini wol. and that was fine and all, but just kind of eh.

things I did like:

learning more about the thirteenth and its fall

the dungeon where you go back to the contramemoria and play through golbez's memories

y'shtola revealing she changed the incantation for her nixie and then threatening wol and estinien into silence about the old version

GAIA ACTUALLY REAPPEARING AND BEING VOICED though right at the end and with the whole 'you should have asked me for help' YEAH WE SHOULD HAVE WOW WHAT A THOUGHT SQUEENIX

that moment when they're talking about the trust and belief in someone displayed by clasping their hand (like a handshake) and wol thinks about zenos reaching out to them as he died (made me a little feral!!!!!)

but the big thing that seemed off to me was that... this kind of felt like a big side quest? I kept waiting for the moment where this would tie to a bigger story and then they were like 'ok all done bye zero'. we didn't even get any significant payoff in terms of establishing cross rift travel? and THEN the dawntrail msq started.

speaking of the dawntrail stuff... I'm also kind of 'eh' about it. I liked that they actually stressed that maybe it's not a great idea to just jump into a foreign country's power succession process and that you know very little about the person whose claim you might be supporting. I like that krile is finally getting a chance to shine (though I am FURIOUS about g'raha staying behind). but I'm not super invested atm. the only thing I am very curious about is what thancred and urianger are up to (besides being unable to stay apart).

and i'm sorry but pictomancer looks kind of ridiculous

[starrysnowdrop]

So I went and made an alt that I will likely ignore for Hali like all the rest of my alts, but I couldn’t help but introduce her nonetheless!

Her name is Lilika Lika, and I’m calling her Lili for short. She is a very distant cousin of Hali who grew up in Ul’dah, and she is a melee fighter, though I haven’t decided on her canon jobs yet. Currently I’m thinking she is going to be a tank and melee dps.

Also, I’m thinking this might finally be the OC that I will ship with Krile! So I’m intending on taking some shippy gposes when I get the chance. Let me know what you think of her!

[otherworldseekers]

They Can’t Take You Away From Me: Amnesia AU part 5

Part 4 here, if you missed it. 

Reminder for those reading from the beginning that I changed Alon’s name to Alecto. 

Some Shadowbringers spoilers. 

Feedback always appreciated!

They find Nero and Alecto sitting together on a solitary bench in a quiet corner of the Toll. Nero’s arm is wrapped around the other man and Severia can’t help the feeling of nausea the sight causes in her. She hangs at the back of the group as they move to confront the couple on the bench. Per their agreement, Cid will do most of the talking. Severia considers herself there to protect everyone, not to get involved. 

Nero frowns as they array themselves in front of him, looks of determination on their faces. But Alecto smiles. “If I’m not mistaken, Nero dear, I’d say your friends are here for a confrontation. Or perhaps an intervention?”

“What is this, Cid?” Despite her efforts to hide behind Biggs, Nero spots Severia. “If it’s what I think…”

“Hear us out, Nero,” says Cid grimly. “You might learn something important.”

Nero looks to Alecto, who nods. “Very well,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Say what you must.” 

“First, Nero, I’d like you to think about how much you know of this man,” Cid says with a pointed look at Alecto. 

“More than you do,” Nero scoffs. 

“Oh I’m sure that’s true,” Tataru pipes up. “You see, even with all our resources, we’ve been unable to find out anything about him at all. Aside from his interactions with you, there’s no other evidence of his existence. Don’t you find that strange?”

“I find it strange that you Scions think it any of your business,” Nero counters. 

“Now, now, Nero darling, I’m interested in what they have to say,” says Alecto, his voice amused. 

“He seems oddly unconcerned,” Krile whispers to Severia so the others can’t hear. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Severia admits. Her stomach feels twisted in knots. The Ascian is certainly acting unexpectedly nonchalant about this, and that doesn't bode well. Cid and Tataru are also looking at each other nervously. Do they have the same feeling?

Alecto stretches his arms out along the top of the bench he sits on with Nero, and smirks. “Or shall I make it easy for you? You see, I’ve grown rather tired of this game.”

Nero looks at his companion and frowns. “Alecto?”

“You see, it was supposed to be a quick mission,” Alecto continues, his eyes locking onto Severia’s. “The accident was supposed to do away with your loverboy. The idea being that when you found out what happened to him, and who was responsible, you’d seek revenge.”

Severia feels chills down her spine. Nero has come so close to being killed because of her. She steps forward. “And who is it that’s responsible?”

“Zenos was ever so worried when he heard rumors about your blissful new life with Nero,” Alecto reveals. “He couldn’t have you being happy. You’d lose your edge before he could hunt you down. So he decided to give you a reason to hunt him down instead. He was so looking forward to seeing your fury.”

“Zenos is behind this?” Severia asks in a voice full of quiet rage.

“I don’t answer to him, of course, but my master does. And it was my master’s plan. But when the plan didn’t quite go as we hoped, my master improvised. The best use of the situation, he said, was to cast you into complete despair.”

Severia clenches her fists at her side. Zenos. Something will have to be done about him. But there are more worrying things afoot here. “Your master? Who’s that?”

“Oh, you’ll meet him soon enough,” Alecto says smugly. “He’s just dying for it.”

Severia glances at Nero, who is staring at his lover in horror. Slowly Nero rose from his seat and turned on his partner. “What are you saying, Alecto?”

“Hasn’t it become obvious, dear?”

“This has all been a mission? Our relationship… Everything about you… and us…”

“It’s nothing personal. It’s just work,” says Alecto viciously. 

“What are you?” Nero asks.

It’s Cid who answers. “He’s an Ascian, Nero.”

“Then… this has always been about…” He turns to look at Severia, his gaze filled with anger and bitterness. 

Severia can’t defend herself. It has always been about her. All the pain he has gone through, all the struggles due to his lost memories, and now this. She might as well have inflicted this suffering on him herself. 

Alecto yawns and stretches. “But I’m so bored. If I hear another word about Magitek I might kill someone. And I think I’ve accomplished my objective. Wouldn’t you say so, Warrior of Light?”

Another truth she can’t deny. The chasm of her despair feels deeper than ever. “You seem quite at ease, Ascian. Don’t you think I might kill you here and now?”

“In the middle of town?” the Ascian asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You think a single person in the Toll will question anything I do?” She is shaking with rage now and there is auracite burning a hole in her pocket. “I think you’re a black mask. Which means you aren’t powerful enough to fight me. Not by a long shot. Did you know that Emet-Selch is dead because of me?”

The smile fades from Alecto’s countenance and he begins to look nervous.

“But I’m willing to let you live for one purpose. Go, and tell your master and his master that their machinations are at an end. Tell them I’m going to come for them.”

“That’s what they want, you know,” says Alecto. 

“I know. Tell them. And then never set foot near this man again.”

The Ascian scrambles to his feet. “Very well.” He glances only briefly at his ex-lover before he teleports away. And just like that it is unceremoniously over. The threat evaporated.

An uncomfortable silence settles on the group. No one knows what to do now. Nero stares at the bench forlornly. Severia turns to him, determined to at least apologize, even if the words are worthless.

“Nero, I–”

“Don’t,” Nero says between gritted teeth. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want anything to do with you. Just stay out of my life.”

Severia watches him walk away with his head bent before she falls to her knees on the ground, tears forming in her eyes. “Nero…” she whispers in anguish. 

Tataru puts her arms around Severia. “Oh, Severia, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

Severia clings to her and lets the tears flow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weeks pass by peacefully for Nero. At first he is confused and lonelier than ever, but he forces himself to focus on his work. Working with his hands has always been soothing to him. He knows who he is when he builds a machine or augments a weapon. Gradually, the heartache recedes enough for him to think about events objectively. 

If he is honest about it, he realizes that Alecto was never really entirely there. And perhaps he would have noticed that earlier if he hadn’t been so empty himself. Surprisingly, he begins to find it easier to face the world alone. No, not entirely alone. He develops a new appreciation for the Ironworks crew, who all offer their support in their own ways. Even if it’s at Garlond’s instigation, he feels more a part of the team as time goes on. He spends many happy days working on fulfilling Ironworks orders and devoting his free time to his own private projects. 

He has made peace with his lack of memory. Though the phantoms of his loss still haunt him. It happens when he says something particularly clever and he thinks to himself, “I must repeat that to…” But he cannot remember who it is he wants to tell. He feels it when he becomes restless in the evenings and he paces his small apartment looking for something he cannot find. And most of all at night when he reaches out and feels only emptiness. 

Nero is not stupid. He has already made the connection. It is likely that those holes in his life were once filled by her. He finds himself more curious about her now, soaking up every mention of her the crew makes, piecing together her nature from the clues. He is fascinated by what he learns, awed that at some point he had won her. But that is all in the past. After the way he has treated her since his accident, and the harsh words he last spoke to her… Though he no longer blames her for what has happened, surely that bridge has long since burned. 

Focus on the work in front of you. The life ahead of you, he tells himself. His life no longer has anything to do with the Warrior of Light. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severia Zetsuen has stopped a calamity, ended the threat of the Unsundered and woken G’raha Tia from slumber. She’s more famous and beloved than ever before, surrounded by friends and allies, and she’s never felt more alone. But Severia Zetsuen is used to feeling alone. She accepts the pain of it as a simple reality of life. 

The months she spent with Nero, the days spent at his side feeling whole for the first time in her life, that was the anomaly. She remembers thinking at the time that it was too good to be true. It turns out she was right. Happiness was never meant for her. 

And so she throws herself into Alisaie’s search for a cure to tempering, a worthy cause if ever there was one. G’raha Tia follows her around like a love sick puppy and she doesn’t know how to tell him that she’s a lost cause. That her heart is broken and she doesn’t think it will ever mend. That she can’t return his feelings or anyone else’s. That she’s given up on love. 

She wishes more than anything that she had never felt love’s embrace. She wishes she had never met Nero tol Scaeva. Because she is no longer capable of not loving him and not feeling his loss like her heart has been carved out of her chest. Was it ever worth this?

More than ever, she is grateful for her friends. It is only because of them that she has not drowned in her grief. Only because of them that she can face the future without giving up. She focuses on the work of the Scions. There is still much work to do in the world. Still many threats out there she will need to face. The world depends on her. 

And so she squares her shoulders and turns her back on that brief shining moment of happiness she once had. That was another life, a different world. It no longer has anything to do with her.

[ximperialknight]

[A date in Old Sharlayan]

It wasn't every day that they get a chance to explore a city they were already in without being bound by duty. Ever since the twins, G'raha and Krile forced dinner upon him and Lantis that one night...the Archon burger was all he could think about.

Asbel pleaded to Lantis before they returned home if they could at least stop to get it. Craved was such an understatement. Asbel didn't know when he would be coming back so he'd thought to try it once more. He wanted to try and learn the recipe so that he could make it back home. His husband could not help but indulge in Asbel's food craving. Thus, they made time for the two of them. Cosette returning home early with the kids and his sister in tow, while the two of them remained for a day or two.

Thoughts of having the burger in his hands once more was all he could think about that his excitement could not be contained. Asbel waited by a bench, eager for his husband to return with food in hand. He was so excited that he started to tap his feet on the ground in anticipation.

"One archon burger, just like you wanted" the small Elezen's head whipped around so fast when he heard Lantis's voice was astounding. A large smile formed his lips and he extended his arms, wanting the burger. He pouted when Lantis wouldn't give it to him immediately. "Do I not get a reward for getting us these burgers??" Asked Lantis, puppy pout on his face as if to tease his husband that he might love the burger more then him.

Asbel stumbled over his wordings "N-No! I love you more then this burger, I promise!" quickly giving his loving husband a peck on the cheek.

Lantis chuckled and handed him the bag "I'm teasing. I love you too" He sat down with a barrel of mead in hand.

"Are you not eating?" Asked the small one as he unraveled his burger.

Lantis shook his head. "I'll eat it later, you eat yours first" He was happy just watching his husband this excited about something so simple that he wanted to take in this moment and just enjoy.

[eriyu]

(From @fourteenthz)

For the npc meme, maybe Thancred, Minfilia and Ryne? You can pick just one too!!

all of them sounds good 👀

starting with Thancred... he and "Yda" are the first Scions Ehryu really feels comfortable with. they're the least stuffy of them all, and then there's Thancred and Ehryu being the slutty bards of the bunch, so they hit it off pretty quickly.

and my first instinct is to talk about how they're super great friends and all, but uh. it's been a pretty bumpy road, because like... for so long, every time they started to get genuinely close, he would go and get possessed, or Flow'd, or summoned to the First, and then by the time they meet up again they've both changed so much. especially Thancred, and especially in the case of getting summoned to the First (five years!!!!).

it's the kind of thing where they come out stronger for it though? they don't ever feel the need to tiptoe around each other, so they might have a fight, but they work it out, and they know where the other stands, and they unfailingly trust each other. and none of the catastrophic events since Shadowbringers have conspired to upheave their relationship again, so they've been really solid for a good long time now.

about that "they might have a fight," i'm mostly thinking of Ryne there loooolll. Ehryu shows up and is aghast at how she sees Thancred treating her, and the fact that he's calling her Minfilia, and as soon as Ryne is out of earshot, gets into a shouting match with him. (and on one hand, she has a point, but she's also making snap judgements without having been there long enough to understand.)

she just immediately feels so emotionally protective of Ryne. big sister mode activate. the first chance she gets to talk to Ryne alone, she asks about the name thing, and Ryne assures her it’s fine and it’s the only name she knows anyway, and Ehryu doesn’t really believe her that it’s fine, but doesn't push it. (well. she goes to Thancred to push it with him instead. 🤷‍♀️) and even though Ryne is dealing with so much self-doubt and doesn't necessarily think she deserves it at first... it feels nice that Ehryu so clearly cares. and Ehryu doesn't really stop worrying about her until after the Eden raids.

she's really good at making friends with teenagers lmao.

going back to OG Minfilia... like I said when talking about Krile, Minfilia was Ehryu's Echo buddy. Ehryu's had the Echo since she was little, but joining the Scions is the first time she's ever gotten any sort of explanation for it (she just thought maybe these kinds of things sometimes manifest when you get a concussion? no?), plus it's the beginning of her experiences with Hydaelyn. so she and Minfilia get to bond and be emotional support for each other over that early on. Ehryu trusts Minfilia so deeply — the only reason Ehryu ever trusts Hydaelyn pre-Endwalker is because Minfilia does. and Minfilia has so much faith in Ehryu in return!!! she knows more than anyone else, even before the Word of the Mother stuff, that Ehryu is destined for great things.

then after losing her, Ehryu started bottling her feelings up a lot more. 8’) plus she feels super guilty for not getting Minfilia out of the banquet safely after everyone trusted her to, even though it was Minfilia’s choice... she was really glad to be able to get closure on the First. :')

[graha-stan-account]

Clear: Day 14

Clear: n. free of any obstruction or unwanted objects. 

Make-up post! 

Present. Self-restraint is not G'raha's strong suit. Still, somehow he's holding himself back from the thing he desperately wants to do. Thankfully, he has an enabler. Post-6.0. 

FFXIVWrite 2023 Masterlist

--- 

If bringing Etheirys back from certain doom seemed like an insurmountable task, G'raha Tia couldn't recall. The events of the past months felt a blur, a flurry of running two and fro, a breathless dream, even. On the other hand, these stacks of paperwork were very, very real. It had only been a few weeks since the Students of Baldesion began to accept new requests, but the speed with which they flooded in stirred dread which not long ago might have overtaken him. 

Part of the problem was the requests which had arrived before the End of Days had been averted hadn't been sorted out. As he and Krile sifted through the missives, it became evident a good amount of them were no longer relevant, given the circumstances. 

But they could not simply be tossed away wholesale. No, they needed to be examined by hand, each and every one. For all the magic he could wield, G'raha lamented he had not studied the art of conjury nearly enough to call up a familiar to help with even these menial tasks. 

He eyed the piles before him, each indistinguishable from the last. One of these stacks had been sorted, though. He was unsure which. 

He picked up a sheaf of paper and skimmed the page. It was not expired, as they'd taken to calling obsolete requests, but was it a priority? No, however... could it be taken care of quickly? Well... 

"Leave already. Go!" G'raha started at the sound of Krile's voice, the sheaf he'd been examining becoming a crumpled bouquet in his hand. He turned to face her a moment later, Krile standing with hands on her hips, staring with wide-eyed scrutiny at G'raha. 

"I-I'm working as fast as I can, Krile." He turned back to his work, wiping the newly-formed sweat from his brow. "Before we can begin to delegate these requests, we must prioritize them f--" 

"You're useless, Raha!" she shouted, her voice resonating up into the rafters. His posture stiffened and she dropped her pretense of anger, smiling knowingly. "Ever since J'napha stopped by you sigh and sigh and reshuffle the same pile. You know which request you ought to prioritize." 

G'raha blinked vacantly at her, tilting his head in lack of comprehension despite the burning in his face. 

"Go and see her!" She shoved at his thigh. "It wasn't an idle invitation. Have you lost your sense?" She paused a moment, and began again softer this time: "Go and see her." Her smile warmed all the way up to her eyes. 

"I..." He cleared his throat. "There is much yet to be done. I cannot bring myself to leave you on your own." 

Krile tapped her chest. "Raha, I haven't been alone. Besides, Ojika agreed to help me." 

"When did he agree to that?" 

"While you were sighing and fretting over that discard pile just there!" She covered the stack of paper with a slap of her hand. "Raha, I know you have simply been out of your head since everyone scattered to the four winds. Do you not think this is difficult for her, too? If she's calling on you, I see no reason to stand her pretending you're not ready to jump out of your skin for want of catching that next airship. Go. See her." She studied him a moment longer in silence, his expression still murky. "I'll file a request myself if it'll get you out of here faster." 

"Your point is made, Krile." G'raha chuckled, struggling to tidy the piles before him with trembling fingers. 

"Bah! All the wild things you do and yet this is what gives you pause." 

"If something comes up, do not hesitate to reach me via linkpearl. I won't be gone long." 

"Consider your schedule cleared!" She pushed him toward the big double doors of the main hall. "Besides, I'll do better with a helper who's not as lovesick by half!" 

"Krile!" 

"Give your lovely Warrior of Light my regards!"