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Ayleth Absconds

Wrote a story. Felt cute. Might delete later.

Based off the Heavensward sidequests relating to the quest of the same name.

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Frigid snow blanketed all that once was, and nothing but the white could be seen for miles. A harsh wind blew through the holes of broken wings attached to well preserved dragon corpses. Save for roaming beasts, this vast and frigid landscape lacked signs of life.

Ayleth heaved the corpse of a small dragonkin on flat ground. Huffing, she wiped the sweat off her brow and scanned the vast whiteness around her. Unbeknownst to her, the silhouette of a winged beast circled above. It waited patiently for the bowman to drop her guard before swooping down. 

“Augh!!”

The wyvern’s landing threw Ayleth off her feet and dusted snow on her. Its thumping made clearer with her ear to the ground, Ayleth docked an arrow to her bow and took hasty aim. The tension on the string released and the arrow shot forward and nicked the beast’s wing. A shrill shriek pierced the cold Coerthan wind, overtaking the wyvern with fury.

Ayleth dropped to her knees, protecting her ears from the deafening cry. The snow stirred around her as the wyvern beat its wings, bringing itself higher and higher. Ayleth took the chance to roll and take cover behind a tree, seconds before the dragonkin smashed its claw at where she knelt seconds ago.

She waited with bated breath, carefully listening to her surroundings. Leather flapped rhythmically in the wind at an unchanging volume. Peeking out from behind the tree revealed that she had travelled a safe distance away from her adversary, who had its attention fully on its deceased kin.

It laid a claw gently on the corpse and wriggled. Ayleth turned her back to the scene for reprieve, letting her head fall into her hands.

All of a sudden, her ears picked up an unfamiliar noise approaching her from a direction opposite her adversary. Alert, Ayleth looked up to see the silhouette of a young man jogging. Her arms desperately signalled to the newcomer to turn back. As his image grew closer, she recognised him. It had been a wanderer who had chanced upon the Convictor's camp a day before.

“It’s not safe here, run!!”

Ayleth’s warning fell on deaf ears as the adventurer unsheathed his weapon. It was too late. The winged beast had noticed the heavy crunch of his footsteps. It did a quick somersault, whipping its tail at the newcomer and used momentum to claw him. The two ferocious attacks caught the man by surprise, yet his axe kept him a safe distance from injury.

With no moment's delay, he shifted his weight to one side then swung the opposite way, swinging his axe at the wyvern's body. The impact threw the airborne beast off balance, and it struggled to defend.

The adventurer made use of the chance to launch an all-out offence, each swing having more weight put into it than the last. Every attack drew blood from the creature, hissing violently. 

Ayleth observed from a distance as she recovered and cussed under her breath. The great beast that a squad of men struggled against, easily felled by a single man of unknown origin.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her face grew hot, despite the blisteringly cold winds, as she stared holes into the man. She had not seen it the first time, but this was not the first time he had slain a dragon. He had brought back the tooth of one as proof that a member of the Horde had been vanquished.

In fact, the corpse that attracted the wyvern's attention was the very same that the adventurer had slain. If only she had his strength, if only she had power, then he wouldn't have to die. If she was a noble, she could eradicate all forms of injustice. If only…

"Margyt was looking for you." The axeman offered a hand to Ayleth, interrupting her thoughts. 

If she was that concerned, she could have come by herself… Although it was probably better she didn't. 

Ignoring his hand, she pushed herself up and sighed. Margyt had taken care of her ever since she found herself in the Convictors.

The environment in Coerthas presently was no friend nor comfort, much less the social environment in Ishgard. The upsurge in attacks from the Horde over the years had destroyed the city's infrastructure.

Those who lived in the lower tiers of the city were most affected by the constant war, losing their homes and their loved ones as a result. Ayleth and her husband once belonged to this camp; the Brume.

That was, until they were exposed to the prejudice of the class. Nobles turned their noses up at them whenever people of their status showed themselves, and the crimes of an individual were extrapolated to the entire group.

Ayleth's love was the closest to the scene of a theft once, and as a result was accused of thievery. The highborn nobles called for a trial, and easily closed the case as a simple 'lowborn blood committing crimes as expected of their nature'. Ayleth's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and her husband was made an example to the rest of the Brume.

It was during this time of despair that she met Margyt. Margyt was a lady of strong conviction, and a loyal knight of Ishgard. Ayleth wasn’t like her, nor the freelancer standing steadfast in the face of danger in front of her.

His hand still awkwardly hanging, Ayleth briefly shook it and praised him. His brawniness aside, the man's tactics in dealing with the dragon's attacks looked as if he already knew how to defeat one. If so, perhaps he would not mind passing the achievement to someone like her this one time. 

"Give me the fang and I’ll hand it to Margyt ."

The adventurer’s eyes shifted from Ayleth, to the corpse, and back to her. His mouth opened for a moment, as if wishing to offer company (or, Fury forbid, protection) to the injured bowman. Ayleth's eyes narrowed, focus shifting to the token of victory in his clutches. 

“The fang, please”, a hint of desperation slipped through her voice. “I’ll head back to report with it.”

The man’s mouth closed and he nodded, wordlessly handing the fang over. Ayleth watched him return from where he came from. If there was anything she would be grateful for this instant, it would be the man's silent acknowledgement of her request. She hated the thought of anyone near her in this pathetic state, much less a stranger.

She made sure his visage disappeared into the snowstorm before burying the dragon fang into her satchel. She trembled, tightening the grip on her bow and bit her lips.

What can a ragtag bunch of false knights do to raise your standing, Ayleth? 

An unwelcome guest invited itself into Ayleth’s mind. A quick scan around her proved the voice to be nothing more than a memory; a memory she had but a few days ago.

Will Dominiac or Margyt grant you status and reputation at all?

Dominiac, the captain of the Convictors. A man who, outside of reports and orders, Ayleth would rarely speak with. He offered her refuge and reason to go on while she was in a state of despair from losing her husband. Dominiac's steadfast desire to keep the Horde at bay resonated with her, and she kept her survival a priority if it meant delaying future attacks that could further cripple the nation.

Many of the Convictors lost their lives at the talons of the Dravanians, but more still died from the local beasts, harsh environment, or unstable supply of provisions. There may not have been many Ayleth knew for long, but Margyt was one she knew as a friend.

A fellow Convictor few months her senior, she shared her opinions on Ishgard's situation fairly often during their group or pair expeditions. At times men from the order would lament the political climate of Ishgard, sharing their woes over drinks by the campfire, lifting nary a finger to lead a cause.

Margyt however never shielded away from the idea of directly taking charge of her future. Right around the period when the wandering adventurer chanced upon their camp, Dominiac started sending less and less orders to go dragon hunting. None of the Convictors seemed to know why; If they did, they would not say.

The one who took charge in the midst of this change was Margyt. She shared her plan with some within the group, Ayleth included, and started scouting for dragons under Dominiac’s nose. All involved knew the risks. Some were waiting to die in this bleak and hopeless future. The worst they thought they could do was die protecting the honour of Ishgard. 

Ayleth had nothing but respect for both Dominiac and Margyt. Both rose up to the occasion and guided her in her grief. She took comfort in that, after the loss of her husband and her plunge from ordinary life to the widow of a convict.

But deep down she knew that this was not enough. Beyond the facade of her steadfast captain was a man afraid of breaking the status quo, and beyond the determination of her fellow Convictor was a single woman who did not question the class system in Ishgard.

No matter how much fighting and risking their lives, none of it would bring her peace. The highborne would live with warm hearths in the comforts of their homes while people like Ayleth must remain happy risking their lives and limbs in the cold for the sake of “keeping Ishgard safe".

Nay, it was not Ishgard they were keeping safe, but noble scum who would slander ordinary people whose homes, families and livelihoods were destroyed in a single night. 

You're smart. It's obvious which would do you more favours, and I believe you know too. Give me the signal and we will meet again at the North Star.

The memory of the devil’s whisper, a tempting offer she had debated long and hard during the past few days, resurfaced. Before she realised it, her legs were already guiding her to the appointed destination.

All she needed to steer the reins of her destiny and rise the ranks to noble status was a single proof of victory over a dragon. After that, she could clear her and her dead husband’s name, and maybe even help her fellow men back into nobility.

The Convictors would understand her decision, surely. This is the only way. Convinced of her decisions, she prepared her journey to deliver the fang.

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These were the words Ayleth last spoke to the adventurer, gripping the key to her salvation so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

Pyu~!

A signal launched into the sky. For those familiar with the snowscape, they would know it had come from somewhere around the North Star. Much like everywhere else in these parts, it was freezing and occasionally littered with well-preserved corpses. A large body of water had frozen over and aggressive beasts who adapted to the climate now called it their home.

Ayleth took shelter in a cave on the underside of a cliff, warming herself up with a campfire. She set down her belongings and sifted through her satchel, fishing for her token of salvation. Her brows furrowed, and her mind was a swirl.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around the fang, and her mind bounced between her desire for nobility and the comradery formed in the Convictors. All through the hours of waiting, she tried hard to reason with herself: that this was not betrayal. 

“I… I’m doing the right thing, right?” She spoke under her breath, a whisper so soft it was carried into the wind and scattered about into nothingness.

A moment of sleepiness almost overtook her when she noticed a signal similar to the one she had launched much earlier. The nobleman who promised her a road into nobility must be here. Ayleth quickly packed her belongings and disposed of her temporary camp, hardening her resolve and making her way down.

Across the frozen lake, Ayleth spotted the man who promised her status and power. In the wide open space, the nobleman spotted her too, waving for her to come over. 

“Let’s not waste time now. Where’s my spoil?” The old man demanded.

Ayleth’s lips curled disapprovingly. “You promised me status, and I will hold you to that.”

She took out the huge tooth, much larger than her palm. Just as it came into sight, so did the pointy edge of a lance. The attack took her by surprise and the dragon fang fell from her hands. 

“You-!”

The nobleman pulled his lance toward him, before swinging it against Ayleth’s side and knocking her off balance. Her bargaining chip was now out of her reach, and inside the nobleman’s satchel.

As quickly as she could, Ayleth swiveled the bow on her back into her arms, docking an arrow into position. Her opponent, however, had power in numbers. When she looked up, she was surrounded by hired lancers charging towards her.

They had immobilized her with their spears, while the nobleman swung his weapon against her chest. Ayleth screamed in pain, losing strength in her body. The nobleman’s guards let her fall, calling their horses to leave.

“Once a pauper, always a pauper.” The nobleman scoffed, stepping over Ayleth’s resolve.

With the job done, the nobleman and his entourage rode towards Ishgard, with not a care whether they may be tracked or not. Because they knew the strong Coerthan snow would likely take care of any evidence  this meeting ever took place, including the only witness to the assault: the victim herself. 

Ayleth’s limp body was left alone in the freezing cold. Perhaps this was simply her destiny. She would die and finally be with her beloved.

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Finally, a triple triad card for him

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good traits gone bad explained

good traits gone bad - Part V

Persuasiveness - While a persuasive person can be a good leader and influencing the people around them in a good way, there is also a fine line between persuasiveness and manipulation. Also, other people could rely too much on the influencer's opinion.

Tidiness - A clean and organized environment can boost focus and efficiency, making it easier to complete tasks. It can also look good for an outsider. But it can also become an obsession, being time-consuming and creating unease, if something is not tidy enough.

Being realistic - A realistic person is grounded in reality, making informed and logical decisions. They are better prepared for setbacks, having already created a contingency plan. But realism can sometimes dampen enthusiasm and optimism, as well as creative ideas. A realist can therefore be perceived as being pessimistic.

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I really just wish they would consistently allow Y'shtola to actually be blind. I loved the moment in Shadowbringers where she asked Urianger to describe the night sky to her. I loved her mistaking the Warrior of Light for a Lightwarden because she can't actually see their physical appearance, just the quality of their aether. But by default the writing assumes that her ability to see aether completely cancels out her loss of vision. She goes to the library and she can just... read print books. You could come up with really interesting and creative technological and magical accommodations for her disability, like mammets or familiars that read text to you! but instead she's just written 98% of the time like she isn't disabled and it's frustrating.

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I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

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Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

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sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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How to plant information elegantly

Say, for example, you’re writing a swimming pool scene and you need to plant the fact that Susan is blonde, because in a few chapters, the detective will find a blond hair at the crime scene.

You want the planted information to be memorable, but at the same time not stand out too much. The ideal is to push the information into the reader’s subconscious without a neon light arrow saying, “You might want to remember this, dear reader. This will be relevant!” The planted information needs to feel natural, organic, but memorable enough so when it turns out to be ✨a clue✨, your reader thinks, “I should have seen it!”

Let’s look at some options.

Susan, who is blonde, took a deep breath and dived into the pool.

This feels forced and awkward. The two pieces of information (pool + blonde) are not connected, the fact that she is blonde feels irrelevant and shoved in. If the reader remembers this, it’s because they noticed how the information is forced upon them.

Elegant ⭐

Memorable ⭐⭐

Organic ⭐

The blonde Susan swam across the pool. / The blonde, Susan, swam across the pool.

This feels more natural, but there’s a danger that only the swimming will stick into the reader’s mind because her being blonde is so unnoticeable. There is also a minor danger that the reader will expect an non-blonde Susan to show up in the first variation.

Elegant ⭐⭐

Memorable ⭐

Organic ⭐⭐

Susan was annoyed. She had just washed her hair with that ridiculously expensive Luscious Blonde shampoo and now her friends wanted to go swimming? What a waste of money.

This feels natural and organic, because both elements are conveyed from Susan’s point of view. They are both relevant and connected, and on top of that you get to build Susan’s character.

Elegant ⭐⭐⭐

Memorable ⭐⭐⭐

Organic ⭐⭐⭐

Her friends were already in the pool, but Susan held up her pocket mirror, making absolutely sure that the latex cap wouldn’t let any water in. She just had her hair bleached and after the debacle of 2019, she would never forget what chlorinated water did to bleached hair.

Susan’s POV makes her blond hair relevant to the swimming, as with the example above, but this time you’re presenting a completely different character. It feels organic and personal, and the fact that she is blonde will be lodged into the reader’s mind without screaming “It’s a clue!”.

Elegant ⭐⭐⭐

Memorable ⭐⭐⭐

Organic ⭐⭐⭐

I hope this is helpful! Follow me for more writing tips or browse my entire collection of writing advice now.

Happy writing!

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The fact that G’raha speaks about the fact that he actively grieves for the warrior of light he knew, despite you, the same person, sitting across from him in that gondola, is so absolutely soul shattering.

G’raha Tia woke up from a hundreds of years long nap to a destroyed world finding out not only that you had died, but that you had died long before your time due to a world ending deadly chemical weapon that nobody could’ve predicted would be launched. He spends years researching the reflections and the rejoinings to pinpoint the exact moment that the calamity of light happened on the first reflection to transport himself there to stop it. Merging his own soul and body with the Crystal Tower to gain enough power to transport through time and space to stop the fall of the first.

A whole century of fighting a losing battle G’raha, the Crystal Exarch, realizes the only person who can win this war is You. The Warrior of Light. G’raha builds a city for you. Saves the lives of a thriving community for you. Summons you (and inadvertently all of your friends) to the home he built for you so you can save the world. And save yourself. All while operating under the guise that he will kill himself in order to do it. And he almost does, but you stop him. You save him and bring him home back to the source to make good on a promise that you will go on an adventure together.

G’raha Tia wakes up from a nebulous amount of time passed nap to see You. But not the you he remembers, but the you He remembers. The you that survived and not the you that died. Two conflicting parts of his memory celebrating and grieving the loss of someone standing right in front of him. So close to touch but a walking ghost that he can’t.

He misses you. You’re right there. He mourns your death still after over a century. You are alive and sitting right across from him. You smile at him. He smiles back.

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stabbing as a metaphor for penetration is great but when are we going to talk about pressing down on where someone is wounded to disarm them or just to be cruel while fighting. does nobody else care about the perverse intimacy of knowing exactly where to touch to overpower someone. the grotesque vulnerability of it. especially if you're the one who wounded them in the first place.

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The myth I think that annoys me the most is “you have to forgive them in order to heal” and when people push back you get “oh no no! You forgive them for you not them”.

Still, a no from me. I didn’t forgive him for me. So many wanted me to to make things easier for them. Me not forgiving was my way of standing up for myself and saying “enough”. I wasn’t going to do things to make myself small. To make things easier for others. Not forgiving was me making my journey about me.

I think it’s so valid if forgiveness is a part of someone’s journey. (Just please make sure it’s because it is for you and not what others say you should do).

But for me? Not forgiving was a part of it.

I just want you to know that you’re valid if you forgive and you’re valid if you don’t. Both are okay.

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Do you think in the omegaverse there’s a new, awful layer to “the talk” that teens get

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I do like characters who do not exhibit any hint of sexuality in any way because they’re too busy being tormented by the narrative. like “yea I might be gay or whatever but the labyrinth is growing so I can’t worry about that shit rn”

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Half Goblin, half Hobbit.

Goblit.

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Cathy Linh Che, from Go Forget your father//Friedrich Nietzsche// Richey Edwards// // Moss Angel, Girldirt Angelfog// Rainer Maria Rilke, Fragment of an Elegy,// Leila Miccolis, till death do us part.

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Frankly some of you should be hornier over weirder shit. The fear of being too genuine is the enemy of art. Be a bit of a pervert. It's good for the health. Doesn't have to be a sexual thing just own up to being a bit obsessed in some cringe shit it's fine.