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punches-and-cream-puffs · 2 years

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15. Row

Her feet had wandered into the Twelveswood, far from the roads. The further she wandered, the easier she breathed. Further still and she'd stopped looking over her shoulder. There was solace out there, deep from the prying eyes and lurking threats that haunted her dreams. Out in woods deep and dark and wild did she find peace.

Boots crunching on leafy ground as she wove her way through the ocean of trees, sunlight dappling the earth through the orange and gold canopy above. Onward until umber and flame gave way to verdant lush, till trees laden with fruit filled her vision, the scent of apple heavy in the air.

The Orchard.

And at it's center, the apple tree had twisted, grown, flourished....looming over the clearing at the center with it's boughs of many colors; golden fruits alongside ruby and emeralds, silently beckoning the passerby closer. Begging them to take a few. A dozen. Fill your baskets overflowing. Feast.

But it was one apple in particular that she focused on, it's golden sheen near metallic. The last time she'd seen it, it'd been large, but now it was engorged, hanging upside down from a cluster of leaves. It hung perfectly still, and had it not been for it's positioning, it may have passed for a normal apple.

But she knew better. She remembered the grin, the rows of woodteeth still stained and splattered red. The gangly limbs.

But still she stood, watching as the gnarled, twisted limbs dropped down in a heap, as the creature pulled itself up. The passing season, it had just been and apple with long limbs, but now a torso was forming, the apple settling in place as a head, splitting into that same wood-fanged grin as it stared down at the tiny blonde that stood in it's territory. She could smell the faintest hint of rot in the air.

"You've grown." Her voice remained light, conversational, but her eyes never left the applebourne creature as it started to circle. Eyeless gaze boring into her, sizing her up. Not many returned a second time. Some never left.

"...I gathered apples here last year without permission." The creature gave a hiss, an acknowledgement. A judgement. Who could say?

"I come offering apologies." The crunching of leaves and twigs around her came to a stop. "I didn't think to stop to see if I should ask permission, and for that I offer my apologies and reparations, if you'll accept." Her hand rose, a wicker basket held out. And subsequently snatched, the creature moving faster than her eye could follow, her breath stilling as she waited for a response.

The basket was opening, the golden fruit tilting towards it as it inspected the offering, before it straightened stiffly. In a blink, it stood before her, gnarled vines lifting a few strands of golden locks as it leaned closer.

Close enough she could smell the familiar twang of copper and rot.

"T͏r̀͡ą̵́͘v̵̴̸҉̸è̢̕͞҉̡ļ͘҉̶̕͠ ̸̢͡͞͝͡ẁ̵̨̢̧͜ȩ҉̵҉̷ļ̨̛͠l̡͡,̴ ̸̢S̵̶͜͟ų̵̸̸͞ņ̸̡͝͞͝l͏̢̀͘͘͞i̶̧̛̛͟͠g̵̶̢̢̀͢h̵̸̛͢͢t̸̸̀͢.̸͏" The breathy whisper made her skin tingle, hair standing on end as she felt the stagnant breath against her cheek and neck. She could almost feel the air crackle, and it was only sheer force of will that kept her in place until the creature stood back, leaping back up into it's throne of a tree, obscured by the leaves as it tore into the honeyed meats.

A soft word of thanks was offered to the grove, and a single apple picked for herself, before her footfalls carried her away, leaving the fruit-fallen to it's feast.

#ffxiv #ffxiv write #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite 2022 #ffxiv write 2022 #drabble #one day apple fucker will have a name #today is not that day #tomorrow aint looking good either

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thebmatt · 2 years

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FFXIV Write 2022 Master Post

Well, I couldn’t finish the final 4 due to getting COVID, but HEY I did the rest!!

1. Cross - Why Franks needs several grimoires 2. Bolt - Look, in their defense, they’re both kinda dumb, your honor 3. Temper - Darkspear is an amusing alias, but she’ll allow it 4. FREE DAY #1 - Veilette 5. Cutting Corners - Franks ain’t taking sides in Nero vs Cid, but he sure will take the benefits 6. Onerous - Does Fearless have a non-shite family member out there? 7. Pawn .- Look, it’s “In From The Cold” the aftermath! 8. Tepid - In which I am sorry for the suffering I inflict on Rheika 9. Yawn - A tired lady tries to stay awake. 10. Channel - Fearless tries thaumaturgy. 11. FREE DAY #2 - Syhrwyda 12. Miss The Boat - Link on this one takes you to my wordpress. The original was deleted from Tumblr after accusations of....stuff that is not me. I revised it over there to more capture what I was going for. Dahkar and Yugiri discuss what might have been and what could be 13. Confluence - How exactly did the other WoLs join Rheika on the First? MAD SCIENCE of course. 14. Attrition - The Warriors of Light end it. 15. Row - A piece of the past is recaptured 16. Deiform - Snowball the carbuncle is a mostly benevolent being 17. Novel - and this is why you research before you shoot your mouth off, Fourchenault. 18. FREE DAY #3 - Brorthon 19. Turn a Blind Eye - What the WoLs did about the Jifuya problem 20. Anon - Fearless, Ranaa, and Makoto discuss the future of their relationship 21. Solution - Engineering can be a mad science discipline too, right? 22. Veracity - I wouldn’t believe this story either! 23. Pitch - Gwen meets the cutest cat-fox-hybrid thing made out of magic she’s ever met 24. Vicissitudes - of COURSE she runs into this asshole 25. Free Day #4 - Rheika (the other one) 26. Break a Leg - The Dog Story

#FFXiv Write 2022 #Master Post

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thedarknesssings · 2 years

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FFXIV Write 2022 Master List

Week One

Prompt 1: Cross - A Thin Line Prompt 2: Bolt - Close Enough Prompt 3: Temper - An Unhealthy Desire Prompt 4: Free Write - So Many Questions Prompt 5: Cutting Corners - Pawn Prompt 6: Onerous - Loup-Garou Prompt 7: Pawn - Liars

Week Two

Prompt 8: Tepid - Snacks Prompt 9: Yawn - Beautiful Moments Prompt 10: Channel - A Night’s Work Prompt 11: Free Write - Letters Prompt 12: Miss the boat - A Bit Dense Prompt 13: Confluence - Sweet as Salt Prompt 14: Attrition - Closing Doors

Week Three

Prompt 15: Row - Sunshine and Roses Prompt 16: Deiform - A Long Time Ago Prompt 17: Novel - The Book Shop Prompt 18: Free Write - The Discovery Channel Prompt 19: Turn a Blind Eye - Handsome Prompt 20: Anon - Revelations Prompt 21: Solution - The Fine Print

Week Four

Prompt 22: Veracity - To No End Prompt 23: Pitch - Sticky Situation Prompt 24: Vicissitudes - Broken Pieces Prompt 25: Free Write - Oil Prompt 26: Break a Leg - Reflection Prompt 27: Hail - Not Far Behind Prompt 28: Vainglory - No Talent

Week Five

Prompt 29: Fuse - Edge of Space Prompt 30: Sojourn - The Meeting Table

#ffxiv write 2022 #Master list #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers

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laeorinel · 2 years

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FFXIV Write: 01 - Cross

(God, I am so rusty at writing, and I may have gotten a teeny tiny bit carried away with this…set post 5.3-ish. Also I regret writing with Urianger in mind with this. I love that man, but my god the way he speaks is hard to write clearly.)

As the crisp air from Coerthas blew down from the mountains to the North, Urianger could not stop the shiver that ran up his spine as he crossed over the threshold of the Rising Stones. Sleep evaded him this night; too many thoughts and theories on his mind to allow him to rest. The late hour likely did not help either.

He and the others had only recently returned from the First, most of them still recovering from their long slumber. Some of the Scions faired better than others in that recovery. He found it difficult to fully gauge the passage of time or the placement of the stars in the heavens. Everything felt different to the First, but not so different as to cause alarm. It was almost akin to seeing the world while drunk. Everything was ever just so slightly off, but you could not exactly explain how.

It made the small moments where one could ground themselves all the more critical, and the Scions devoted Warrior was a large part of that. Not that Urianger was looking for them in particular at this moment. Quite the opposite. He did not expect nor need any companionship right now other than a cup of freshly brewed tea and a good book. A small moment of calm before the oncoming storm broke through.

Or at least…that was the plan. As Urianger moved over to the bar to gather what he needed, he heard something akin to a snarl towards the rear of the rising stones and saw a book flying across the room before smashing into the opposing wall with some force. He heard some quiet yet irritated sounding muttering in a language few could speak, the old tongue of the Auri people.

Urianger cannot help the faint laugh that leaves him before he wanders over to collect the poor abused tome from the floor.

“I see I am not the only one devoid of repose.” he glances down towards the cracked leather of the book, one detailing the history and beliefs of the Twelve divinities, a book commonly given to children in Sharlayan as part of their studies. He glances to his right at the abuser of the said tome, a Xaela woman sitting upon one of the larger crates, looking more than a little bit cross. Her silver eyes glared daggers at the book, barbed tail whipping against the crate every so often. While anger was a common emotion for his friend, this level of vexation at an inanimate object was somewhat rare.

“Might I enquire what this poor tome did to receive such a furious response from you, my friend?”

“Why must all of you scholarly types use such big words in your books? How is a child meant to read that?!” Urianger watches as Samara crosses her arms, black claws half digging into her scales in frustration.

“Ah, I see….” He keeps the book as he walks over to sit beside her, noticing scratches on the wood of the crate she sits on. How long had she been sitting here struggling to read this book that the sharper scales on her tail have left a mark?

Before joining the Scions, Samara was largely illiterate; the Echo facilitated any communication needed in the moment and any reports and the like she would pass over to another, always claiming there was some other important matter that needed her attention. It is a sore subject she dislikes bringing up in front of her allies, even those closest to her. As far as she knows, most of the Scions are unaware of this “flaw” of hers, as she sees it.

As she has told Urianger in the past, the Xaela people have no formal written language; all of their history and wisdom is passed down through tales and songs in their native tongue. While some tribes had started including some form of written language, typically Doman, in their daily lives, particularly those who often deal with outsiders, the majority still stuck to the old ways.

Urianger was one of the privileged few who knew this little detail of their vaunted Warrior of Light. He may well have been the first to notice, though he sometimes wondered if Minfillia knew as well, given she would always have reasons for Samara to leave any reports undone if she could find no excuse to make herself.

Regardless of who discovered the secret first, Urianger was the first to attempt to teach her how to read and write in the common tongue. Progress was mixed. It is hard to teach someone when they are being pulled in a hundred different directions, and that was before his little sojourn into the First.

“I take it thine studies have faltered in recent months?”

Samara lets out a loud sigh of resignation before lying back on the crate, her black hair, which for once is not tied up out of the way, looking more than a little messy. “Of course they have. I hardly have time to learn all your fancy words in between everything else.” Urianger watched the emotions dance across her face, the typical anger is there, but it is closely followed by confusion, frustration and bitter disappointment.

“Does thou wish to learn still?

Samara huffs again before looking up at Urianger and nods. He did not expect any other answer. Samara was frighteningly stubborn at times. A trait that caused him and his companions no small amount of grief but also immense pride when she yet again surmounted the insurmountable.

He places the book down to the side before standing again, reaching a hand down to the woman. “Then might I suggest a change in approach?”

Samara raises a brow before taking the offered hand with a sigh. “Sure. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I doubt whatever you have planned will get through my thick skull.”

Urianger shakes his head at the disparaging comment as he guides her back towards the tables near the bar area. “Tis not a lack of intellect that causes you to struggle so, my friend. Far from it. I fear your struggles are more a consequence of mine own failings.” He gestures for her to take a seat at one as he goes about collecting a few items from the shelves behind Tataru’s desk.

“Come again?” she says as Samara leans back on one of the chairs, looking towards Urianger’s back quizically.

“I taught you as I would teach a child of Sharlayan. A place where there is nought but peace and tranquillity, where scholarly pursuits are the norm, not the exception.”

“Thy people lead very different lives. Thou are driven by a need to perfect skills that will ensure your continued survival. For example, thy preternatural ability to read and harness the flow of aether to learn formidable magics instead of the required scholarly studies thy fellow practitioners depend upon. The tales and songs thy people tell evoke emotion and connection to the past and present, a cultural practice born out of necessity to form close-knit bonds among kith and kin-.

“I still have no idea where you are going with this….” Samara already knows where this is going in part. If she does not stop him now, he will be talking until the sun rises.

Caught out as he was mid-tirade, Urianger pauses and turns to look at Samara, a quill, inkwell and pieces of parchment in hand and that look of eternal patience.

“To speak plainly. Instead of teaching thee the “correct” way, I would teach thee all thou needs to put thine own words and feelings to parchment, pure and true. Thou does not need to know all the “big words” as you put it.” Samara continues looking at him, her brow still arched, as he walks over.

Urianger places down the inkwell and the pieces of parchment in front of Samara, watching her expression keenly. He can see she is still agitated and now looks at the parchment with the same amount of vitriol visited upon the book. “What I propose is thus, through the Echo, thou can speak and understand spoken common. I will help thee transcribe what thou speaks; if memory serves, thou had a relatively solid understanding of the basics of the written form.”

Samara wipes a hand over her face and looks up in the direction of the heavens with a sigh. “I do, though I also seem to remember you struggling to read any of it...”

“I can assure thee, thine handwriting is not the worst I have seen. On the subject at hand, however, I do have a suggestion for the topic of the first letter.” Urianger casually says as he holds out the quill for her. He knew this suggestion could backfire, but something needed to be done. His friends were hopeless at making their feelings known, and he already knew one-half of this budding romance committed their untold feelings to paper.

“Many struggle articulating words and feelings in person, so they commit to parchment what they struggle to say with their voice. Might I suggest thou writes of thine feelings for a particular comrade?” He cannot stop the smirk that spreads across his face when her cheeks begin to turn a slightly darker shade of grey, and she starts and fails to articulate words.

“I…I have no idea what you are talking about, but...it would be nice to do that...you know, as a hypno...hypo...whatever that word is.”

“Hypothetical?” She snaps a finger at him and nods before going quiet. For a few minutes, she stares at the piece of parchment in front of her and the quill in her hand. As he awaits her honest answer, Urianger busies himself with making some tea. He glances back at his student every so often, watching the conflicting emotions on her face fondly. He eventually returns to the table and places two freshly brewed cups down before he makes himself comfortable in the seat next to her, leisurely drinking his own. He is in no rush.

Eventually, she looks up at Urianger. She speaks in a hushed tone, unsure and almost frightened. “I think I would like that, though. Will you help me get it right? To say what needs to be said?”

She hated asking for help. To be unable to stand alone and do something unaided frightened her, even if it was to do with something as unthreatening as writing. Urianger found these moments endearing. Times where the mask of an unyielding warrior Samara Kha donned ever so slightly slipped and showed the woman behind it.

Urianger smiled at her, settling back into his position as her teacher. “With this and more, my friend.”

#ffxiv write 2022 #urianger augurelt #ffxiv wol #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite2022

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leejafythe · 2 years

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Find Me in the Shadows

FFXIV Write 2022 Entry Prompt: Fuse Word Count: 1912 CW: Near-death experience, mention of injuries AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42499767

I can’t keep going. I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. I just want this to be over. “Leeja” Thancred’s voice was soft as he pulled her from her thoughts “a gil for your thoughts?” She gave him a small, tired smile and shook her head.

“Just tired is all” her chest ached from the amount of walking she had done and breathing was uncomfortable.

“Sit down, darling. Slow, deep breaths” he helped her to the ground and knelt next to her and counted her breaths. “There you go. How are you feeling?”

“Cold. Nothing I do warms me up” Leeja wheezed slightly as she spoke, struggling to catch her breath. Thancred removed his gunblade and took off his coat to wrap around her carefully.

“It’s enough for now. We can move when you’re ready.” I’ll never be ready.

Y’shtola kept her distance, struggling to look at the miqo’te. It stung, Leeja wouldn’t hide her sadness for that. “Ryne, how is the Light doing?”

“‘S under control, Shtola” Leeja murmured before coughing hard, covering her hand in pure white bile as she gasped for air softly. Thancred handed her the flask of water and cleaned her hand as the others stood in pure silence, unable to watch.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better” Thancred helped her sip the water carefully.

“How is your pain?” Alphinaud knelt down next to her on the other side, checking her over.

“Manageable. Kind of. Everything just aches and I’m just tired.”

“Let me see if I can help with it” he cast a gentle healing spell and she sighed softly as the pain dulled down.

“Thanks, Alphinaud” the elezen smiled at her.

As each Scion made their will known to Leeja, that they would be fighting by her side whether she liked it or not they made their way into the Capitol building, leaving Leeja, Thancred and Ryne alone. “Well, this has put everyone in a solemn mood, hasn't it? Honestly, we're not even sure this will be the end of it. But I suppose we should speak our minds when we have the opportunity. You taught me that much in Amh Araeng” he smiled softly at her. She rested her head against him gently. “So forgive me this moment of sentiment, Leeja. By dragging me into this sorry mess, you've given me the chance to think and act as I should have. For Ryne's sake. Words cannot express how much this has changed my life, or how grateful I am for your support…” she looked at him, shocked. “...So I shall express my gratitude through action instead. No matter where you decide to go, I will be there, guarding your back” he chuckled softly as she choked back a sob.

“Since when did you sentimental?” Leeja chuckled a little and wiped her eyes.

“I’ve you to thank for that.” Leeja shifted her position and kissed him gently. She pressed her brow to his and forced back the urge to cry.

“Thank you, Thancred. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“You can thank me when we’re out the other side.”

“Thancred–”

“I mean it, Leeja. You will not die today. I will not let you” he stood and helped her to her feet before he headed off to meet the rest.

Ryne was quiet and Leeja could see the conflict on her face. “Ryne, sweetheart, talk to me” she leaned against the wall for balance.

“When Minfilia entrusted me with her power, she warned me that no matter how strong you become, you can still fall victim to despair; you can still feel powerless” the young oracle looked down at her hands “And she was right. After you collapsed on Mt. Gulg, my hands wouldn't stop shaking… If I made a mistake, if I failed to bind the Light within you... I was terrified you would die” she looked at Leeja sadly as she continued to unload. Leeja stood and listened to her, taking in everything she was saying and feeling her heart ache. She understood Ryne’s stress, the amount of pressure on her shoulders. “Even now, you could be moments from turning, and I wouldn't know how to save you!” Leeja opened her mouth to answer her, only to be cut off. “You, Thancred, the others, you've all been there when I needed help. Minfilia surrendered her life to me─her legacy. I should be ready to do the same for you! And I want to, I do! But I just… I'm not good enough. She told me to follow your example, and I've tried, I've really tried…” Leeja dropped to her knees and pulled her into a tight hug. Her body ached at the pressure but she didn’t care.

“Ryne…” she swallowed back a sob. “Listen to me, okay? You shouldn’t hang your head.”

“...I shouldn’t?”

“No, darling. You shouldn’t. In truth, I’m not asking to be saved. I’m just asking to save everyone else” she gave Ryne a sad smile.

“But the Light, it ─ You'll ─ How can you go on?”

“I’m at peace with death. I have been for a while now. And besides,” she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, “Fate can be cruel, but a smile better suits a hero.” With a renewed resolve, Ryne was ready to join the rest.

She helped Leeja stand and allowed the miqo’te to hold onto her shoulder to guide her. Leeja smiled softly and shook her head “it may sound daft but I can find my way to Thancred just by smell.” They made their way into the building and were met by Emet-Selch who began his speech. Leeja’s strength was beginning to wane and she gripped onto Thancred’s hand tightly and leaned against him. The flames from the door he walked though were felt by everyone. Everyone but Leeja and it was a feeling she didn’t realised she missed so very much.

______________________________________

No matter what they threw at the ascian, nothing penetrated his shield. Leeja forced her legs to move toward him, chanting it over and over in her splitting mind you’re so close. Kill him. Finish it! “And you! Why waste your final moments in futile defiance? Weary wanderer ─ you've no fight left to fight! No life left to live!” He taunted her until, in her dulled rage, the Light had other ideas. She collapsed to the ground and felt her very soul begin to tear apart, a pain she wouldn’t even inflict on Zenos. She went to scream but nothing but bile came out as she fell to the ground. She could hardly hear what was being said but she knew Emet was still taunting and teasing, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes burned, every part of her body and soul felt like it was on fire. She saw Thancred rush forward in a bid to give Ryne time but it was no use. She felt to her knees and reached out for Leeja.

“Fight it... You have to hold on!” Bile replaced her voice and everytime she tried to speak she failed until she finally collapsed.

When she opened her eyes, everything around her was white and bright and blinding. This must be my last chance before I turn. When she turned her head, she saw Ardbert, and a sinking feeling set in. “If you had the strength to take another step, could you do it? Could you save our worlds?” She frowned a little and pushed herself up off the ground and looked at him.

“What, by myself? You know I could!” Ardbert grinned at her and held out his axe. She knew what this meant and it hurt her. “Hey, Ardbert? Thank you. Despite our initial meeting it’s been a pleasure getting to know you.”

“Aye. And you, Warrior of Darkness” he smiled warmly as she took the axe. She smiled sadly as he vanished, but she could feel his warmth throughout. The feeling of her soul being ripped apart vanished and she surmised that he absorbed the remaining Light. He saved her life and she could never truly thank him for it, yet she knew he’d be with her always.

She rose to her feet, slowly at first as the Light exploded from her. Her hearing came back, as did her vision and she noticed the look of confusion on Emet’s face as she stared him down, her voice mixed with Ardbert’s and it was a strange sound. “This world is not yours to end. This is our future. Our story.”

“No... It can't be… Bah, a trick of the light. You are a broken husk, nothing more. How can you hope to stand against me alone?” Leeja smirked as her eyes flicked behind Emet. She had seen the flash of red and white of G’raha appearing behind him and looked back at Emet.

“I’m never truly alone, Emet-Selch. You’d do well to remember that.” The Ascian growled with frustration “I challenge you, Emet-Selch. One way or another, it ends.”

“Very well. Let us proceed to your final judgment. The victor shall write the tale, and the vanquished become its villain! But come! Let us cast aside titles and pretense, and reveal our true faces to one another!” He began a cast as a wall of shadow appeared and she came face to face with his true self. “I am Hades! He who shall awaken our brethren from their dark slumber!” Leeja smirked and pulled her chakrams loose from the holders.

“And I’m Leeja Fythe, Warrior of Light and Darkness both and the saviour of the Source and her Shards!” She launched herself into the fight with Hades.

______________________________________

He didn’t relent. He was intense and there were points Leeja wasn’t sure she was going to make it out alive. As the blackness surrounded her, the familiar sound of a familiar gunblade rang clear in her ears as Thancred tore through the veil “enough, damn you!” As he shattered the white auracite into pieces and the found a home in Emet’s body, the rest of the Scions began to channel their aether into the shards.

“Now! Strike with all thy might!” she barely heard Urianger over the sound and began to channel the remaining Light within her and formed it into the shape of Ardbert’s axe. As the darkness began to drown out the last remaining motes of light, she threw the axe as hard as she could and then it was over.

When Emet’s form vanished back into aether and back into the lifestream and naught of him remained, Leeja’s strength and legs finally gave out and she felt herself slowly falling. Only to be caught by Thancred “I’ve got you, darling.”

“Thank you” she gave in and let him take her weight. Both Ryne and Y’shtola confirmed that the invading Light had gone and her soul was no longer splitting apart. Her body ached and she was exhausted, but the First, and the Source, were both safe from another calamity. She was desperate for sleep and Urianger and Alphinaud quickly healed her enough to make it to the surface. Sadly their efforts were no good, the exhaustion and fatigue were overwhelming to the point any healing was negated. Thancred scooped her up and chose to carry her back instead, despite her protests.

They made their way back to the Crystarium where much needed rest was in order, and oh how Leeja looked forward to the sweet relief of sleep.

#FFXIV Write 2022 #Fuse #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #my writing #leeja fythe #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #urianger augurelt #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #Emet-Selch #Ardbert #G'raha Tia #shadowbringers

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pellaaearien · 2 years

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FFXIV Write #8

Prompt: tepid || Master Post || AO3

500 words, 6.2 spoilers

“I shall now lift the seal.”

Varshan’s voice was solemn, as befitted the occasion. Mindful of the Radiant host’s watchfulness behind them, Eyn’ara did not reach for Aymeric’s hand, but instead stood close beside him.

Deep breaths, she told herself. We haven’t even started yet.

The tension that had been thrumming in her bones since Y’shtola had initiated their Void adventure and unknowingly invoked Eyn’ara’s post-Ultima Thule promise to Aymeric had reached a fever pitch.

I give you my word: when there is danger, you will be by my side.

She just hadn’t expected her word to be tested so soon.

She and Aymeric had argued, and trained, and prepared, and now the maw of the Void was opening and the only thing Eyn’ara wanted to do was grab her husband and run far away.

The Atomos absorbed the voidgate, exactly as planned. Shite, they were actually doing this.

“It worked,” Y’shtola confirmed. “We should have no trouble passing through a gate of that size."

Oh goody.

“What can we expect to find after stepping through?” Estinien asked. The note of apprehension in his voice would only have been evident to those who knew him well, and his eyes cast over to Aymeric. Eyn’ara was oddly comforted that she wasn’t the only one with deep misgivings regarding their venture, and Aymeric’s place in it.

“On my previous foray, I emerged in a castle swarming with voidsent,” Varshan replied. “I was hopelessly outnumbered and forced to turn back. But together, I am confident we can hold our own.”

Eyn’ara caught Estinien’s eye. They were in full accord: protecting Aymeric was their primary objective.

“Take heart, my friends, and have faith,” Varshahn continued. “We will brave this broken world and rescue my sister Azdaja!”

Take heart, and protect them well. Such had been her mantra since Vrtra had spoken those words, over a year before. They will be your strength and your salvation.

She and Aymeric were walking into the voidgate, and they would both walk back out. It was the only outcome she would accept.

Varshahn was the first in, driven by eagerness to rescue his sister. Y’shtola went next, fearless as ever. After sharing another loaded glance with Estinien, the dragoon went next, with the understanding that he would hold the line in case they were walking into an ambush. Then Eyn’ara nodded to Aymeric, and they stepped through together.

Immediately Eyn’ara was blasted with a waft of fetid air, and she wrinkled her nose. It clung to her like swamp water, and she felt the urge to brush herself off. The atmosphere was dark and oppressive, sounds echoing strangely. They were definitely underground.

Eyn’ara immediately looked around for Aymeric, blinking in bewilderment as shapes seemed to warp and shift around her. He stood a short distance away, looking as dazed as she. For a mercy, they were not immediately swarmed by voidsent.

Here we go. Eyn’ara swallowed her terror deep down, where it wouldn’t be a distraction. Aymeric turned and smiled at her, and bolstered, Eyn’ara stepped to his side. They had a job to do.

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#ffxiv write 2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #6.2 spoilers #wolmeric #aymeric de borel #estinien wyrmblood #oc: eyn'ara rainshadow #aymeric x eyn'ara #otp: sun and snow #pella writes

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charm-in-spades · 2 years

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(Ʉ₦)ⱠɄ₵₭Ɏ ĐⱤ₳₩

𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙸𝙾: ‘𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜’ | 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 #𝟸𝟺: 𝚅𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜

He had always despised Fate.

It was a fickle and indifferent mistress at best. Oft giving and taking with little regard or purpose for the one in its sights. And yet, at the same time, he held a careful consideration towards Nymeia and her antics. He believed at least, that Fate was real. Not a tangible thing that could be physically felt, but the sensation of knowing it to be a true and working cog against the fabric of reality was no less obvious.

He wasn’t sure when he started believing, only that the belief had always manifested itself in small and bitter ways. In Garlemald, he’d never mentioned his thoughts towards the matter given the consequences of doing so and perhaps in not speaking on it he began to blame the misfortunes in his life upon the greater workings of Fate.

It wasn’t just his imagination or a need to blame his misfortune on anything other than his self. He could feel it working against him in constant motions, like strings tugging on his soul. Each hurdle thrown his way was overcome with blood, sweat, and tears. An optimistic individual likely would say such challenges were to help him improve, but he never thought them as such. Consistent loss was not something he felt most people could recover from. Yet he persevered.

If anything, he felt like a lab rat running through a maze without exit. Something observed and tracked. He always felt like he was being watched by something greater than him. Yet, despite his frustrations he toyed with the idea of Fate and utilized a deck of cards as if they might help him understand his life better. The results always varied and he could give or take them, but today was different.

He stared a long time at those cards. They had stilled him, when he pulled them from the deck and set them before him. There was always something to be said about the cards. It was like a puzzle to be solved. They didn’t speak, but they had a lot to tell if you knew how to look for it.

He’d generally used them as a method for gaining easy information from others. When a card seemed correct in an assessment, people were usually quick to exclaim so, or something changed in their features that gave him something to tuck away. The baseline of an individual began to fade, and they too became something to read. Information was valuable and his scam was an easy one. If someone else had been there to watch him when he’d pulled his own, they’d have seen his features change too upon each revelation he flipped for himself.

The Three of Hearts was the fourth card to pull, but in this spread it represented his present. It meant a number of things but largely, what caught his attention was the aspect of fertility. An embryo. A growing child. It was odd timing, considering he meant to take a boat to the Warmaiden’s homeland and help her through a birth. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to being present during the horrific process of welcoming a newborn into the world, but if called upon, his loyalty was never something to waver.

The fifth card however, the second in his spread of the present was what stilled him. All was well with the first card, but it was marred by the second. The Ten of Spades. This wasn’t a good card to pull. He knew it the moment he saw it. It dictated grief, tragedy and a shadow cast about everything he looked upon. It made him shift in his seat, and squint a little harder. Immediately, his resolve to protect had hardened and instinct took over as he questioned his spread.

Was there a message to unfold with what he had pulled? The puzzle sat before him, and yet he felt like he was missing pieces to its meaning. It hit him though, that odd sense that he should listen to what was on his board though he wondered if it was just paranoia. The hand he had been dealt was a critical one, but he had no proof to back his intuition. Just a deck of cards, that shunned him when they wanted to, and helped in rare moments. In this case, he couldn’t tell which was which. He sighed.

“Fuck.”

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Out of Cards: Another one in my drafts for the writing prompt. Figured I’d get these done with and pushed out.

#FFXIV Write 2022 #stories

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kardions · 2 years

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Bolt (ffxiv write 2022: day 2)

cw/spoiler warnings: characters involved in the reaper & sage questlines are mentioned and/or present. there are 2 character deaths, both of which are described, though not graphically. however, the description may still be uncomfortable for some readers.

Elliot bolted.

Carnage left in his wake.

Though not created by him.

This is the story of how Elliot met Xavery.

Elliot Barton-Tia, better known as Subject 0912 to his Sharlayan scientists, was sitting at his assigned table at his assigned time. He was stolen from his home 5 years prior by Guildivain, a Sharlayan scientist hell-bent on weeding out disabilities. The concrete room had several, small windows aggressively out of reach, metal tables with metal benches attached and a faint whirring sound that never ceased. Elliot sat on one said bench, his rear instantly feeling the cold of the metal through his hospital pants; part of his assigned garb. He placed his plastic cafeteria tray down on the table. The tray was adorned with a paper plate of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, an orange and a box of apple juice. Once seated, the young Miqo’te man sighed.

“Hey, Elli–Oh Nine One Two!,” a young female voice called out.

The voice belonged to his friend Amelia, a late-20-something Viera woman with green hair, currently pulled back into a ponytail. Her overall grace, as well as red eyes, were her most obvious and defining features aside from her picturesque smile… and the 2-year-old Viera child hanging in a holster on her front. An almost-30 Viera man with shaggy wine red hair followed close behind.

“Up and at ‘em, again?,” he asked, though with a forced smile. His already-toned biceps tightened in tandem with the corners of his mouth; his inverted triangle birthmark crinkled under his left eye. Kaden, though good-natured and pure of heart, was always the type to jump into action.

“Mhmm.” Elliot knew the question was codified: what he really meant to ask was “What new tests have they conducted on you?” He waited for the pair to sit and blend in with the hundreds of other test subjects also attending their lab-assigned lunch breaks. Once safe, he quickly glanced around the room, then began a series of subtle hand gestures. Elliot rested his left arm on the cold, metal table, skin almost freezing on contact. His right index finger gently tapped his left bicep as he spoke.

“Oh, y’know, just getting stronger. They say I’m doing better than expected.”

The Miqo’te never broke eye contact with the pair as they, and their offspring, ate their mashed potatoes. Amelia and Kaden nodded in sync, smiles plastered to their faces, understanding Elliot’s code; he was telling them “More beastblood injections. However, I’m not succumbing to the injections like most others. They’re going to run more tests.”

“Ooh, interesting!,” Amelia perked up. “What about,” her right index finger touched her right temple, her head now resting on it, “Oh Six Six Six?”.

The head dude, Guildivain? Ha, he’s still examining my brain and not finding anything new, Elliot thought. Biting his tongue, he responded, “Headstrong… Head very strong.” His whole body ached as he began picking at his food, desperately needing nourishment. The Head is very strong. There’s gotta be a way out of here. It’s been 5 fucking years.

“Hey, uh… speaking of which,” he gestured to his right ear while eyeing Kaden’s right. “New jewelry? What, ya getting ready for a night on the town or something?,” he joked.

“Heh, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice, actually,” Kaden chuckled.

“You know I, of all people, would. I’m,” he rubbed an eye to signal “always looking out for you”, “your friend, Kay,” he whispered.

The Viera man smiled. “I know, Ell,” Kaden whispered before continuing at a normal volume, “Thanks for that. But, yeah. They’ve been awesome about accommodating me. Can you believe that I was the lucky winner of the gift of hearing?”

His sarcasm, while appreciated, cut into Elliot and wedged deeper as he spoke. His friend’s pain was his pain. The Miqo’te knew that when Kaden said “lucky winner” he truly meant it; everyone else was likely thrown to slaughter for being disabled. His friend being present meant that he was temporarily given a free pass to live… and be tested on.

The harnessed child let out a small cry. “Oh, sweetie! Here ya go,” Amelia and Kaden said in sync. They giggled before Kaden allowed Amelia to feed the child lab-assigned formula.

“Have you named the little troublemaker yet? It’s been almost two years,” Elliot asked.

“Of course! He’s Oh Six One Two, silly,” Amelia said through a strained smile. She would love to share the name she and Kaden crafted in secret, but was worried word would spread to the Head—Guildivain.

“Ha, right,” Elliot gently hit the butt of his palm against his forehead, “sorry about that! Minor lapse.”

“No worries, friend! However,” her voice grew quiet and grave as she leaned forward slightly. She placed an index finger between her eyebrows before continuing, “they’re still young. Maybe one day red will come more easily to them than me. He thinks colours are a novel prospect right now.”

Code for “my dyslexia is still present but they need me as a control. They also haven’t been able to test on the kid yet since he’s still young,” thought Elliot. “For sure! Right, little dude?”

The child simply stared at the Miqo’te man and laughed.

“I think he likes you,” chuckled Kaden. He was slightly more at ease now, staring at his child in admiration. He sighed. Being stolen from your home was bad enough, but the pair was also forced to procreate. Guildivain saw the pair as an easy way to create a child to test the passing of disabilities–Amelia was dyslexic and Kaden was deaf in his right ear.

“Ya like me, kid? Really? That makes one of us,” Elliot said wryly. The small rabbit-eared child with green hair and inverted triangle birthmark simply laughed again. “Spitting image of their parents. Sorry this is what you were born into. Hopefully you’ll be out soon and be able to forget about all of this.” A sigh left Elliot’s chest, deflating his body.

Amelia giggled. “Would you like to be their godparent? Should anything happen to us, you could take care of them!,” she exclaimed before whispering, “They can take my life, but not his.”

Elliot’s face contorted from concern, to shock and finally to acceptance. “Of course, friend. You okay, with this, Oh Eight Oh Two?,” he asked Kaden.

“If Oh Eight Oh Five is okay with it, then I’m okay with it.” He smiled at his significant other before turning back to Elliot. “We trust you.”

“And I trust you. Hey, when this is all ov—”

RIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!!

Elliot’s proposition was cut short by the sound of sirens blaring, alarms ringing and guards shouting.

“Amelia, Kaden! This way!,” Elliot shouted. He had prepared several escape routes should they be blessed with an opportunity for escape. “Whoever pulled that alarm—thank you. You’ve saved all of our lives. Please get out safely.”

The trio, with the child in tow, bolted through the throngs of people—a mass exodus. Elliot and Kaden sandwiched Amelia, protecting the offspring harnessed on her front, as they pushed through bodies barreling towards them. A light was seen at the end of the hallway—Freedom. Once all comrades were accounted for, the rabbit-eared offspring was transferred from mother to father. Kaden then began squatting, preparing for Amelia to ride on his back.

“No, you both need your rest,” Elliot said, assuming Kaden’s position, “and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t look out for you two?”

The pair turned to each other and nodded. Amelia immediately piggybacked Elliot. It was mid-afternoon; the group set forth as quickly as possible for the nearest settlement.

They traversed through the immediate sparse forest before nightfall, stowing away on a ship destined for Eorzea. For the next couple of weeks, all able bodies worked to move forward, gather, hunt—survive. They focussed on feeding the child, some nights starving themselves due to lack of food. Soon enough, they reached Gridanian soil.

Kaden panted. “It’s warm. It’s safe. Thank Twelve.”

Amelia was holding the child in her arms and poked their nose. “Their name is Xavery.”

Kaden turned to her, surprised. “Yeah. That still works. I like it and I think you like it, too, little dude.” He joined in on tickling and gently poking the child. The couple gazed into each other’s eyes and giggled.

“Y’know… I’m grateful to have you two here with me. Even though you’re in your soiled hospital garb and look like death, you’re still full of love. Thank you,” Elliot said softly.

They turned to the Miqo’te. Amelia responded, “And we feel the same way about you, Elliot. There’s nobody else we’d want to be Xavery’s godfa—”

“AMELIA, DUCK!,” Elliot shouted.

A black mass of fabric, blood and claws lunged for the group…

No. nO. NO. THIS ISN’T HAPPENING.

Elliot’s warnings were too late. A man clad in what appeared to be a black robe made of skin, a pale visage, red eyes and a scythe began gnawing on Amelia. His scythe was cupped under Kaden’s neck, holding him in place

“T–take them. Their name,” choked Amelia as she slid the baby toward Elliot, “is Xavery. Remember him.” Her eyes rolled back into her head and a tear rolled down her left cheek. She left the world with a smile on her face.

“We—ugh—love them. Ta–ke—guh—care, Elliot,” managed Kaden. His head was separated from his body before Elliot’s eyes.

He grabbed the child, shaking and barely able to move. The man stared down Elliot.

“I’m Orcus. Don’t you dare forget it,” the creature taunted.

Elliot bolted.

Carnage left in his wake.

Though not created by him.

“It’s okay, Xavery. I’m here. We’ll be safe together. I love you.”

#ffxiv write 2022 #ffxiv write #ffxiv #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv wol #unwrittenbones #final fantasy xiv #reaper #ffxiv reaper #sage #ffxiv sage #warrior of light #wol #ffxiv oc #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #ffxivwrite2022 #kardions

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scrollsfromarebornrealm · 2 years

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Prompt #3: Temper

The screaming coming from her father’s study could even be heard from the driveway. Kari burrowed as deep as she could into her grandmother’s side, the door of the mammet-driven coach shutting--and finally, finally, drowning out the noise. A barked order from Astrid and the conveyance was moving, rattling along the driveway and out onto the cobblestone road. Kari closed her eyes, letting her new surroundings calm her--the feel of her grandmother’s furs, the smell of her perfume, the humming of the machinery.

“Kari.” Grandmother’s voice was firm-but gentle. It wasn’t the icy cold that it had been moments before as she’d faced down Kari’s stepmother. Kari didn’t respond, taking in another breath of the amber and frankincense perfume that was her grandmother’s scent.

“Kari. Does that happen often?”

“All the time.” Kari muttered. “If she doesn’t like dinner, she has a temper tantrum. If Papa doesn’t give her money for a new dress, temper tantrum. If her lady’s maid does something wrong, temper tantrum. I breathe, eat, or do something in front of her, temper tantrum.” Above her head, Astrid inhaled sharply, throttling back her own temper. Her granddaughter’s words were bringing back the red haze, and the last thing Kari needed tonight was her giving into her emotions. Forcing herself to inhale and exhale, Astrid lifted a hand to gently rest it on Kari’s head.

“Let’s not think about her and your papa tonight. We’re going to have a lovely time at the Leveilleur ball.” Thaliak, it was so hard to make her voice cheerful for Kari’s sake. Though she could take petty pleasure in seeing that the whore her son had married had more or less been excluded from what was the biggest social event in Sharalyan high society.

“And if any boys come up to you and want to talk, you need to tell me about them right away.” Kari’s head popped up.

“Grandma, ew! I don’t want any boys to talk to me!” She exclaimed. Astrid threw her head back and laughed merrily.

“Oh we’ll give it a few years, if you’re so inclined!”

#ffxiv #ffxiv write 2022 #wol riven #astrid deglass

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mimble-sparklepudding · 2 years

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Miss The Boat

Whilst out drinking with Rhoswen Leach,

I foolishly tried to beseech,

Her to go for a tryst,

Before that boat was missed,

But she pummeled my face with a screech.

Piratical silliness.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ff14 screenshot #mimble sparklepudding #ffxiv writing #ffxiv write 2022 #ffxiv writing challenge

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the-wanted-man · 2 years

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𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞.

𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 | 𝐏𝐎𝐕: 𝐔𝐝𝐚𝐡𝐯 𝐎𝐝𝐡 | 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟓: 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬

Hard work didn't get you anywhere.

It was a convenient lie to be sure, something to make the broken and hunched backed lives of common laborers feel more fulfilling. In truth, it was a myth provided by society to ease the minds of those condemned to toiled bells, and a lifetime of hour by hour labor that ultimately only netted them the bare essentials to live their lives.

The greatest misdirection ever told was that hard work and success where connected products, which wasn’t entirely false. While in some cases riches made their way into the hands of the people who’d worked for it, it was more common that your efforts lined the pockets of someone else who hadn’t. The person at the top. The one you did all the work for.

Ul’dah was notorious for such rackets, and Odh had come to understand that at a very early point in his career. Usually, it was the person at the top who tended to sell that lie the hardest. He’d heard it all. ‘If you work hard enough, you could be just like me.’ Always said with a derisive smile that held the truth between its teeth the same way a dingo’s jaws might hold a fresh babe. Devouring hope with a laugh as if to say ‘Yes, slaving away; That’s how I got here. And if you keep doing it, you’ll get here too.’

The Monetarists had been selling that lie for years, now. As had the sultanate before, and every other collection of wealthy people who wanted to maintain the status quo. Others worked for nothing. The rich more often than not did nothing, and got it all. It was the natural order of a capitalist society.

The real truth was that success was a matter of connections. Of cutting corners, and striking deals. It was about the people you impressed and the people you didn’t. The ones you knew and where, everyone that knew you too. Every bond you had to nurture, and all the relationships one had to keep. It was a heavily rigged game of chutes and ladders. For the rich - endless rungs were available to climb with all the time to do it. For the working class, it was an uphill battle of climbing hand over fist up a slick surface that only existed to keep you down.

Odh despised the very nature of it all. The endless politics and the never ending games of reputation and social climbing, but it was necessary. As an officer, Odh made a decent amount but it wasn’t enough to live a comfortable life. Most Brass Blades understood that, and it was why the organization had its reputation for being so close with the monetarists. Doing little favors for the rich paid dividends over keeping law and order, and in a world where money talked, people listened. That was just the nature of things.

So Odh played the game, despite how much he detested it. His reputation had been sullied more times than he could count, and yet he remained a diligent contestant that knew how to play his cards just right. He knew all the rumors, all the things that were said about him. Particularly when it came to ‘The Outlaw’ and their conjoined history.

Shoddy work, they’d said. An embarrassment, how often the villain slipped through his grasp. His job had hung in the balance on many occasions when the notorious bandit had targeted his associates and the people who paid his bills. Yet Odh had persisted and remained through diligent effort and extensive convincing that he could succeed. Afterall, no one else had managed to get the man either. He had closely pursued the spur-heeled footsteps of the Outlaw like the sweat on one’s back. Obsessively so, in fact. They assumed it was because he’d been humiliated time and time again, that he was upset over a horse and over his pride.

It showed how little that others understood, or even knew and how quietly he played the game. He had his reasons, and the old Blade considered them as his hand gently drifted over an old picture of himself, and his boy and his wife. Ex-wife. When things had been simpler, and his life not so complicated. When he’d had a son that had adored him, before he had strayed so far off the path Odh had tried to lead him down.

It was the only game he had ever played wrong, and in doing so had driven those he’d loved the most away from him. That part of his life was over, but he could avenge it in his own time. The man he’d only recently come to know as Roman Wyld would pay for all that he’d taken from him. That he could promise.

How Leviticus had known so much was a curiosity that he questioned, but didn’t pursue. The Pureblood, for all his irritating qualities was a decent ally and had dropped the Outlaw right into his lap. It was a pity he hadn’t hanged the man, but there were still moves yet to make and he wasn’t blinded by his own endeavors to risk the tenuous station he had finally achieved.

So he waited. Because he had to play the game, and Roman was yet a Syndicate’s tool that had been fitted with purpose and surprisingly, had managed that purpose well which in turn, had granted him a temporary lease on life. For now. That would end in time, and he would have his moment. And when it came upon him he would seize it with both hands around the neck, and squeeze. And squeeze.

And squeeze.

But that moment was not now, and for a time he could utilize this resource and climb the ladder with it. It’s what he would do, but more important, it was what he knew he had to do.

For now.

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝...

#Udahv Odh #FFXIV Write 2022 #Cutting Corners #Playing the Game

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punches-and-cream-puffs · 2 years

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5. Cutting Corners

A good performance required discipline.

A good performance required constant attention. Focus on how you move, how you dance, how you exist. Remember to smile, remember to shine.

A good performance must be thorough if it's to be convincing; the words echoed in her mind. You cannot simply perform, you must become your performance. Live for the audience, be what is needed. Cut no corners, hold nothing back; give your performance your all and you'll be all that you need to be.

But those words rang empty as she sat before the mirror, forcing herself to look into it's silvery surface. It was never something she could really stand long, her own reflection; something she cast a glance at in passing but never lingering.

But she needed to today.

She needed to keep the performance up, she tried to tell herself, her other self in the mirror. She knew she was overreacting, she had to be; she just needed to fake being okay until she actually was. For their sakes, for his sake... she tried to tell herself it was for her own sake, but she couldn't make herself say the words.

She couldn't -be- this performance. Not this time. But what choice did she have? Her forehead slid forward, warm skin meeting the cool glass as she closed her eyes.

She'd put the smile and the act back on once she left the bathroom, but for now? Now she could simply be, simply feel, simply....try to figure out what to do.

#ffxiv #ffxiv write #ffxiv write 2022 #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite 2022 #drabble #she is trying very very hard to hold it together #but old habits and only training can only carry you so far

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thebmatt · 2 years

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FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #2: Bolt

It was a clear, cool night in Doma, and many of her citizens milled about the enclave, enjoying another night of freedom. Freedom to express themselves, to rebuild their traditions, or just to be happy and carefree again.

Inside the southern tower of the Kienkan, two men were likewise indulging in their own freedoms; from the demands of their stations. Tonight, they could simply be friends and indulge in a bit of drink.

Dahkar could not remember what Hien had called the libation, but it was strong and delicious, so in the moment, he simply didn’t care. Despite having his fair share of the bottle, his own prodigious constitution meant he simply felt pleasantly floaty, unlikely to awaken the following morn with any severe hangover symptoms.

Hien, by contrast, seemed to be incapable of holding this particular liquor. His words had long been slurred as the duo simply talked about whatever caught their fancy, mostly stories from before the pair had met.

Dahkar had finished his latest tale when Hien suddenly took another stiff pull, straight from the bottle. “Dahk…..Dahkar…..I gotta question for ya. Itsh personal. Can I ask you a pershonal question?”

Dahkar smriked at him. “Sorry, Hien, this is still not a date. You don’t have enough scales, or pointy enough ears, for my liking”.

Hien stared at him for a long second, processing his reply, before laughing uproariously for nearly a minute. Eventually he clamed himself down enough to reply “Ha….no, but itsh about that. You’ve never…had anyone elsh since Haurchefant, right? I always jusht wondered….why not Yugiri? You two always….sheemed to be close.”

Dahkar’s eyebrow cocked. “Hien, I think you might have had enough of that stuff if you’re forgetting her oath to you.”

“What? What’re you….talking about?”

Dahkar sighed. How deep in his cups WAS Hien? “We actually discussed it, a while back, but she said that her oath to you meant she could not have that sort of relationship, and she did not want to abandon said oath.”

Hien appeared confused. He shook his head, as if trying to will the haze he was in away, and did so hard enough that it seemed like it worked, because his voice had lost some of it’s slurred state. “What? I made no such demands of her. The oath I asked her to swear certainly made no mentions of not having a relationship!”

Dahkar shrugged, leaning forward to grasp the frame of the tower’s open windows. “Well….maybe wasn’t as interested as I’d hoped and she was just trying to let me down easy. It doesn’t matter. It’s enough to be her friend, if that’s what she wants. I’ll…..I’ll get over her, some day.”

“Yes…..yes, I suppose so” Hien said, looking down at the roof tiles. Suddenly he bolted to his feet. “I gotta do somethin’…..I’ll be right back!” He bolted down the stairs and out of Dahkar’s sight.

He chuckled. Guess the liquor had finally gotten to be too much. He’d have to ask Hien what it was called when he recovered, then quietly sneak it away from his stores. Clearly it wasn’t agreeing with him

Hien hadn’t gone anywhere near a privy. He was instead rushing through every room in the Kienkan, opening doors, peering inside, and then rushing to the next. After the seventh, he simply stopped, looked to the vaulted ceilings, and yelled “Yugiri??”

“Yes, my lord?” a quiet voice replied behind him. Only years of association with the shinobi helped Hien steel himself from jumping and yelping in shock. He spun and placed hands on her shoulders. “Yugiri. Do you like Dahkar?”

Yugiri reared back, only a little, in surprise. Hien’s words were a bit slurred, but the clarity in his eyes was something she’d not seen since they had dealt with the Blasphemy, and never directed so potently at her. “…..yes? Of course, my lord. We’ve been friends for a very long time by now…”

Hien chuckled and shook his head, “No no no, Yugiri, are you ATTRACTED to him? Are you in LOVE with him?”

Her expression shifted from confusion to hurt. She tried to turn away, but he held her steady. “My lord….this is cruel. You know it does not matter, because I cannot act on-

“I am SO sorry.” he interrupted. She looked back to him. His expression was downcast, his eyes sad. “I never meant for you to believe you could not have a love of your own when I asked for your loyalty. Only that as long as you kept your oath, you always act in the best interests of myself and Doma. I don’t even remember the words right now, but if I ever made you think that meant never having someone….I am sorry.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “My lord…Hien, I….I do love him. I have for some time, but….what if I am forced to choose between him and Doma? How can I do this? Is it not better to never let myself face this choice?”

Hien laughed “Yugiri, considering the reasons Dahkar has made Doma his new home in the wake of the Scions disbanding, do you truly believe such a scenario is likely? Should Dahkar and I find ourselves at odds enough that you feel you must choose between us, then the likely root is that I have committed a severe error in judgement!”

She had to laugh at that one.

“But if it will put your mind at ease and allow you to finally listen to your heart, then at any time in the future that Dahkar and I have come to an irreconcilable difference of ways, then at that time I hereby decree that your oath to me is released. In perpetuity.”

He stopped and cocked his head, looking upward as if trying to consider if he’d misspoken. “Er. The conditions for the release of your oath are effective in perpetuity. As is the release, should it happen. I think that is correct. I’m sorry, I hope this makes sense. I might be a bit dunk. BUT BUT I make this decree with a clear enough head!”

Yugiri laughed. Her lord could be ridiculous sometimes.

Then his words clicked.

“My lord, I believe I need to go speak with Dahkar now. I have a mistake to correct”

He smiled, released her shoulders, and waved her off. “Go! Kami’s blessing to you! He’s in the-“

“-South Tower, I know!” she yelled back, having already bolted in that direction.

Hien watched her go, pressing his hands together as he giggled happily.

Dahkar had been waiting for HIen to return when he suddenly felt the hairs on his neck raise.

He turned and a purple, white, and black bolt collided with him, knocking him backward.

He managed to hold his footing enough to keep from going down, but whatever it was seemed to be …holding him?

He opened his eyes to see the face of Yugiri smiling in a manner he could only describe as loving. Before he could even contemplate what that meant, she pressed her lips to his.

That lasted for a long while and might have been the best sensation he’d ever experienced. He lips were soft and she tasted of sweetness and spice. When they finally broke for air, she had a sheepish look on her face.

“It has come to my attention that I might have misinterpreted the exact nature of my oath to Lord Hien.”

Dahkar chuckled. “He mentioned something about that. I thought you were trying to just let me down without hurting my feelings”

She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Had I known….I love you, Dahkar. I can’t remember when exactly my heart began to yearn to be yours, but I know it was before you left Doma after liberating it. When you asked me…it took all I had not to say yes. I meant every word I said to you.”

Fear crossed her countenance as she considered her next words. “Do you….do you still feel as you did, that day?”

He smiled and drew her in for another kiss.

#FFXiv Write 2022 #Dahkar Darkspear #yugiri mistwalker #Hien Rijin #my lizard boy deserves happiness again after losing his first true love #Drunk hien playing matchmaker also makes me giggle

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