CRESS Claims

For all of those who know me and who have been engaging with my stories, content, and character, this post is for you!

I've recently separated myself from someone who was a friend of mine and during this friendship this person and I had created the concept of House Cress back in October 2011 before Guild Wars 2 was released. The concept of House Cress is actually older than my son as I was pregnant with him at the time that myself and this other person had fleshed out all the details of what House Cress was to be and that our characters would be -- as they were in other games aside from FF14 -- twins.

For those of you who know me from WoW, I went by Hale Cress and I RPed that character on the Alliance side on WrA for several years after Gw2 and following my leave from WoW I eventually brought my character Hale to FF14 who now goes by Vahalia Cress. It was then that this other person had not wanted to play the game or build the world alongside me since they were into WoW and there was zero interest expressed. So, I started modeling and fitting the concepts of lore and the source material to meet FF14 standards and lore.

I have been RPing Vahalia Cress and the concept I have built for four years now and I have gone above and beyond to facilitate RP for myself as well as my FC and people around me who have interactions with Vahalia and House Cress.

Three years into my RP this person/'friend' would suddenly show up, start talking to me more again and then chose to insert herself into the stories and RP I had going at current without communicating with me at length to see if that would be okay. They chose to skip all the MSQ right up to Endwalker despite being suggested not to, and boosted their jobs. They had absolutely no care for getting to learn of the lore and world of the MMO I've meticulously crafted my story around.

Additionally, coming into the story and actively trying to meet her halfway and try to include her I gave her a position as Vahalia's cousin and we collaborated on a few things only for her to later change parts of her character that are vivid parallels of my character Vahalia from changing her eye color, to having her character involved with the exact type of business Vahalia was in and tried to have the character be a family addition in Ishgard as well. Let's also touch on the fact my URL for Vahalia used to be umbral-flare-ffxiv. I later decided to change that because this person decided to use Umbral in their URL as well and that just sat poorly with me. My friends constantly told me that all these changes and choices she was actively making were looking deliberate.

She would disappear for months at a time and come back around to insert herself into FF14 again only to be around for a little bit then disappear again without word.

Despite the disappointment of feeling like attributes and things were taken from my character, I later read a story where this person's character also somehow inherits a voidsent entity (much like Vahalia and Creature for all those who have read my stories) without her knowing little to nothing about the void, Voidsent, Voidkin or the 13th. That was the last thing that occurred for me to get worked up and have enough of constantly feeling like concepts for stories and aesthetics were being siphoned from her. I had even made the mistake of sharing with her a plot concept I was working on with someone else only for her to turn around and try to write the same with a friend of mine.

Well, as long-winded as this is, I promise I have a point. Because this person and I are no longer friends. The two of us had civilly and amicably came together and decided to go on about our lives as acquaintances because I had voiced to her that the friendship was too toxic and unhealthy. I was tired of her attacking my integrity as a person, making broad assumptions against me that weren't true, on top of calling me a bad friend because I didn't always defend her when she wanted me to or if I disagreed with her. I have been lied to and emotionally manipulated and in a constant state of emotional whiplash with this person.

I cared about them, but things weren't healthy. I was tired of the gaslighting and I had sworn to myself in 2023 that I would continue to advocate for myself and speak up when I wasn't okay with something.

Anyway, We go our separate ways. I felt good about it. I thought "Wow this is nice. We both agreed to this and we can exist in the same space without having to be on a personal level with one another." Because despite everything I still really cared for her and wanted nothing but her to succeed in life and have positive blessings.

I had made the choice to remove her from my Facebook because I believed that if we were no longer on a personal level of friends, her being on my FB or having access to it wasn't adhering to what we had ultimately decided. So I removed her.

The next day I noticed Facebook had her Icon on my dash and I thought to myself, "That's not right I thought I removed her?" so I clicked and went to see if I did, indeed remove her like I thought, and I had noticed she had me blocked.

Then according to my friends and mutuals, they had told me she removed and blocked them and then proceeded to add my new friends from Discord that she's never really interacted with, friend invites. Three have come forward to me in DMs and have expressed to me how left-field and odd it was for them to get those friend requests. Red flag? Pretty sure they thought so too.

To me, a block tells me that that person wants ZERO interaction with you and has chosen to take steps in ensuring that they don't want to see you. Period.

So much for being civil and amicible I guess?

Anyways, I took it with grace and simply just removed her from everything quietly and went on about my business and life. Finally being able to sit at my PC this evening and get to blocking her on my socials, I went to her URL to block her account and I came to find she has a very pointed addition to her details and 'about' on her page claiming that she is the sole creator of House Cress and its stories over many universes.

Hence the reason for this post and the long-winded explanation. I thought it was imperative to give context and a timeline of events. Events in which I have several people who can back up my claims. People who have been in my life for 7 years or more and many who have been in my life for 13 years or within my RP circle for a decade or so. They're people who have also interacted with my characters across all platforms dating back to GW2 and have heard this Ex-friend discuss how House Cress was a brainchild of us both only to now some how claim that its not.

This ex-friend is claiming they're the sole creator, but they're not. It's a project we both worked on in the living room of my 1 bedroom apartment in 2011. It was a project we both had a hand in creating on equal avenues. We did a video about our plans and hopes for Gw2 and even spoke about our characters. It's a project that I've always seen as belonging to us both, and even now.

For this person to make this claim is perhaps one of the most bullheaded lies she's even decided to put into the ether.

For someone to claim "The person I was 8 years ago isn't the same person I am today." and then go around and do this just out of spite and malice tells me that no, this person is very much the same person they were 8 years ago.

Nothing has changed.

I was fine walking away from her and letting her do her own thing as she saw fit. I assumed that us coming together on a decision meant that we'd have no ill will toward one another.

And I had honored that.

Until tonight.

House Cress was not concocted by one person alone, despite what my ex-friend might claim or what she might try to twist. I have text snippets of this person professing to people in Discord in my FC server that the Cress stuff was a conjoined effort from us both and she would always stipulate how long she's known me and she and I would ride on nostalgia and often talk about how long we've had the Cress train going through various different universes.

With all that has been said, I don't plan on telling anyone who this person is because I don't wish ill attention on them by any means. I just wanted to stay in my lane without her sabotaging me or for some reason her feeling that she needed to get her kicks in where she could. So please don't spread hate.

The whole point of this message is to say -- I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here and I'll continue playing Vahalia CRESS as I have been for 4 years.

I will continue to build on Vahalia CRESS'S story and enjoy it. I will continue the story and stories I've built up for House Cress in the FF14 universe and enjoy it. I will continue to bring people in on the stories and help to support and facilitate RP and ideas. I will continue to collaborate with others.

I helped create this and I have a stake here and I won't let someone try to bully me out of a place I have built, earned and socially been a part of on various scenes for years.

I won't be bullied out of what's mine as I've put a lot of hard work and dedication into this, too much for someone who doesn't even have 10 hours of MSQ under their belt or can properly figure out how WHM works.

This is my space, I'll curate it how I wish and I implore all those who want to want to interact or write with me, to do so.

I'm here.

I'm not going anywhere.

Let's write!

Of Implications and Tandems.

As she stepped out of the Northern Cress Manor house, her well-practiced smile vanished from her face. The chilly night breeze brushed against her cheeks and nose, causing her to wrap the fur-lined cloak tightly around her body, trying to preserve any warmth she could. Memories of the conversations she had just engaged in echoed in her mind, much like the ebb and flow of the tides under the moon's enchanting pull.

There came particular luxuries to balls and noble gatherings; the food, the drink, but most importantly the conversation. The tension within the room as the Starlight gathering ended was heavy, which promoted Ondrea’s visit the following day. Ondrea’s experience with Osric was naught, to say the least. They’ve met in passing, twice before if memory served her, and in those moments she hadn’t seen a man befit to carry their name, yet her cousin had. “Do you love him?” Ondrea’s chuckle leapt from her lips in a cold, visible vapor as she recanted such a query that happened to be extended to Vahalia by herself. Ill placed but not ill-timed. The fact that it left her faster than she could control it was surprising enough, yet it was in the company of her cousin Vahalia that caused such unabashed honestly from Ondrea as it seemed to flow from her akin to a river flowing downstream. Vahalia's face displayed a pensive expression that etched itself into her memory. Ondrea could feel the inner turmoil that consumed Vahalia, but she understood that this was Vahalia’s battle, first and foremost. The Cress Lineage’s Northern Sect had distinct customs and separate wealth, much like the Southern house had their own abundant resources and influential connections. Nevertheless, the decisions made by the leaders of the Northern Sect had far-reaching consequences that affected a wide range of people and places.

The distant hum of the aetherite indicated her intended destination, yet she found herself unconsciously straying from it, venturing deeper into the winding streets of Ishgard. The heel of her boot scraped against the stone corridor as she came to a halt, finding ease with resting her weight to the right and listing forward to press her leather clad arms atop a balustrade which overlooked the general scenery. From this vantage point, she could gaze out at the breathtaking panorama that stretched before her. Osric occupied her thoughts once again. She couldn't help but ponder over his face, his demeanor, and strangely enough, his hands. Did those hands possess the strength and determination to dig through soil filled with deadly spikes? Was he the type of person who would extinguish someone else's life in order to safeguard or elevate the reputation of the Cress family? Ondrea acknowledged that he wasn't entirely innocent, but she rarely considered anyone to be truly innocent, and she had to give him that much credit. There were pieces of the puzzle she knew she was missing but then it was Damien’s face who waded among the surface. Unclear but distinct enough for her to recognize it was him. The displacement of Damien and Osric’s personalities was palpable but was one more worthy of carrying the name? Had Damien proclaimed such love for Valeria that he was ready to delve into the throes of marriage that quickly?

If anything, this caused but a sense of relief knowing that such burdens were not in her cards although with it came that crippling solitude, a common experience for individuals with familiar inclinations such as hers. Such feelings were washed away with shake of her head.

Ondrea stood alone and surrounded by the intricate architecture of the buildings coupled with the delicate downfall of snowflakes. Everything was beautiful and for a moment she felt her ancestral pull toward Ishgard toy with the strings of her lineage. Something she felt important to protect. She stood by her implications toward Vahalia---that despite whatever reputation Vahalia might believe herself to lose, it mattered little when it came to the big picture.

Osric was a good man and perhaps that was the essence of his downfall. There were too many good parts that were easily discovered and perhaps just as easy to break. “Good men die every day. It’s the ones who hold power that survive.” A voice dredged from the depths of her mind. A voice she hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was that of her father. He often recanted encouraging sentiments. Ironic that he relayed it to her while on his death bed. “The men of this House are cursed.” Ondrea found herself replying aloud, a soft whisper which kissed the cold ether like poison. Hoisting a hand Ondrea spread her fingers incrementally as to allow the snow to fall within her leathered palm. “They hold the power that was given to him. Given to them by us.” Something strange swelled within the pit of her belly. It nestled and anchored there like an intense purpose. These were the burdens of her cousin and she, in every respect, would support Vahalia. In Ondrea’s eyes, her children would be better suited being raised by those of true blood as opposed to those who merely adopted the name. The contemplation of such thoughts did not inflict any anguish upon her, for her involvement in this matter was not as profound as that of Vahalia's. Ondrea frequently encountered the predicament of certain lenses being exceptionally arduous to perceive, although she acknowledged that they might not be the most suitable ones she also recognized that they were necessary. The pinprick of her eye shifted back toward the portal point and with it did the chill of the evening envelop itself around her. With a quiet shiver, Ondrea pushed herself from her post and proceeded toward the aetheryte to begin her quick yet nauseating trip back home.

Mentions: @vahalia-cress-ffxiv @osric-cress-ffxiv @damien-gray-ffxiv

Through a Prism of Deceit

Rising steam from a hot cup of tea tickled her nose as she held the teacup just beneath her lips, thoughts consuming her being enough to pause her actions. She and Ricard had spent hours in the depths of old documents, letters, books and ledgers, dust decorating their clothes in a thin layer as they read through every parchment. That was, until he hauled her off to her room, urging her to sleep which she accepted only after he tended to her other needs.

Ricard had returned home for the time being, leaving her alone in her thoughts. She had almost every piece of the puzzle to this twisted surprise in her life and yet Cordelia still sought more. Not even sure if there was more to find, her hands and eyes continued scanning the documents, going over new papers they had yet to get to as well as returning to re-read others. Word had been sent to Wren to take on overseeing the inventory and ledgers for trade to ensure all items were settled with Vahalia’s crew. For the time being, she was choosing to keep the Cress’ at a bit of a distance until she figured out what she planned to do with this whole mess. 

With a heavy sigh, she tossed the papers back to the table; nothing new jumped out at her. There was nothing more there this round of reading that wasn’t there the first or second or even third time the words were read. Her room felt oddly empty now as she sat in front of the fireplace, taking up the teacup yet again to sip gingerly from the now tepid liquid which caused her to scrunch her nose and return it to the saucer. She would have Tilly bring a new pot at some point but for now, her gaze fell entranced by the dancing flames, the sounds of the crackling fire soothing her mind. It was then that she realized that the original interaction with Ricard had gone differently than she had anticipated. 

Even now as she sat here, a day or so after bringing her newfound lineage to him, Cordelia was unsure as to why her innate response was to seek him out. Perhaps the smarter choice would have been to keep it close to her chest, let not a soul know and use it when the time was right, and by all accounts she certainly planned to do just that. But the want to involve him still had her curious of her own motives and even further, despite his distaste for the family as a whole, the fact he was willing to look beyond that to offer his aid and seemingly without stipulations. 

A soft hum vibrated from within her chest as she pursed her lips, fingertips move to twist at the ring on her finger before she lifted her hand to remove the monocle from her eye to gently set it down over the papers. It was becoming painfully obvious that she had found all that there was to be found in the information at her disposal here in the Gray estate and that realization brought a slight tightness in her chest at the thought that followed. When her father eventually passed away, just a few years following her mother, Cordelia had seen to a handful of minor possessions moved to her new home but everything else had been left to collect dust. Any documents, family relics or heirlooms, all the furniture, it all remained there hidden in boxes or covered by ghostly drapery which gave even more to the eeriness of Highgate. 

She had not been home since her mother died, little interest finding her to visit her ‘father’ without Elsbeth’s comforting presence at his side. Perhaps now it was time to return, seek out whatever was left behind there and in doing so, bring life back into the estate to be used for future purposes unknown to her at the moment. Cordelia took a deep breath, pushing from her seat and calling for Tilly who remained just outside her chambers in the event something was required of her.

“Yes, Ma’am?” The meek yet spritely woman inquired as she entered to see Cordelia already beginning to ready as if she were leaving. 

“Please send word to Master Blythe, have him -” She paused, gathering her thoughts as she already was preparing herself to thrust open those doors to the dark halls of her childhood home. “ - I am going to be spending a few days in Highgate, please see that he knows of the location and to meet me there at his convenience? Also, ready yourself to join me and have Wren find me once she returns from her business with Miss Slater. Once the shipment is settled I would like her to also be prepared to join us.”

Cordelia was thankful that Damien had gone quiet for the time being, despite her concern for what that meant exactly knowing that he was likely off in his corner of the world planning something, the quiet was aptly timed so that she could focus on this without worrying too much about leaving the Gray estate behind. Tilly nodded once her directions had been given and quickly went about doing as she was asked. She sat down at her vanity, gazing into the mirror and seeing very little in terms of her reflection. 

You are a Corvin and a Gray

Ricard’s words echoed in her mind as her eyes fell to her mother’s ring on her finger. It was time to face some of the ghosts of her past, to find answers. It was time to go home.

[ Mentions: @ricard-blythe-ffxiv @house-cress @sanguinecourt-ffxiv @vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

House Cress

Detailed information of the immediate family of House Cress in Ishgard both living and deceased.

Baron Cress

A hardened man of House Cress with extensive training in swordsmanship and the battlefield, Baron was one of two sons born into the Cress name and was tasked with upholding the traditions of the House along with assisting his brother to oversee the House businesses and the Cress mines that were responsible for providing a significant amount of iron, silver, and copper to the region and even as far as into Othard and into Aldenard. It was during this time that the weaponry business that the Cress Household had been dipping its hands into started to boom beyond what anyone could have anticipated. Within this period of great wealth, the brothers had been in the thick of a quarrel with one another and neither side could decide upon what was the proper course for the family name with opposing ideals. This disagreement eventually twisted into a separation of the brothers and the Cress name had been splintered with bad blood.

Charlotte Cress (Fontaine)

Maiden name Fontaine, Charlotte is the daughter of Camille and Julien Fontaine and the eldest sister to Eleigh Eirwen (Fontaine) and wife of Baron Cress. Her side of the family had been known for their light and mousey colored hair ranging from deeper blondes and chestnut browns and blue or hazel colored eyes. Charlotte is also half Elezen and half Hyur which originally introduced the Cress bloodline to Elezen and Ishgardian ties. It is said that the Fontaine family was also deeply rooted in Sharlayan affairs. Charlotte and her sister Eleigh had a close relationship and their children often played together as they grew up, Charlotte’s only son had become quick friends with his cousin Beau. It is said that Charlotte was a very sweet woman but had a very gracious, gentle and stern nature when circumstances called for it. It was through her family, The Fontaine name that the Cress family had been exposed to expanding their ore and trade business through manufacturing siege weapons for the city of Ishgard working in tandem with the Skysteel manufactory when the Cress family relocated to Ishgard after the Empire invaded parts of the Dalmascan region. It is now, thanks to House Eirwen and Charlotte’s sister, Eleigh, that the Eirwen House remains a staunch contributor to the Skysteel Manufactory after Charlotte’s death and House Cress begun to explore avenues of Trade further.

Adrian Cress

The only son of Baron and Charlotte Cress, Adrian grew up as an avid lover of the outdoors and often partook in hunting parties, specifically with his cousin Beau when time would permit. When his father Baron passed away, Adrian was merely 17 years old and the burden of the family responsibilities had fallen into his lap. Charlotte remained for several more years to help her son lead what was left of the family in the right direction. With the Cress name splintered since Baron Cress and the two sides of the family still living in Valnain, appearance was everything and finding a proper match for Adrian in a life partner would prove to be quite difficult. Since taking on the mantle of patriarch to the family, stressors had begun to pile up and Adrian had grown to become resentful, cruel and stoic and would often scare off all prospects of a suitable match for the bloodline to continue, he even took it upon himself to change the traditional black and gold associated with House Cress and changed the House colors to black and silver once established in Ishgard. Traditionally in the Cress House, family, bloodlines, and reputation were extremely significant to them. Not having a knack for business and acting as quite the poor financial advisor to his own affairs of wealth and being too stubborn to hire another, Adrian plunged the family into debt once the industry in Ishgard became oversaturated. In a shut-in city and plenty of hands in the cookie jar, Adrian began to panic about what would become of the Cress coffers and would then commit an act that would have a lasting, traumatic effect on his two daughters for the rest of their lives. It is rumored that Adrian died well into his late 50’s and that he was murdered in his own study. He was not tombed with the rest of his kin in death and was instead cremated and his ashes were set haphazardly into the winds of Ishgard; to this day, Adrian is spoken about in a negative light for his failure to his family name and the debt he had left them in. One notable quality about him was that the man was skillful with weapons, and hunting and had quite the passion for alchemy and poisons, a ‘talent’ one of his daughters would later inherit. 

Odessa Cress (Blackheart)

A willful woman with quite an ambitious streak. Such work ethics were impressed on Odessa at a young age as she came from more of a Matriarchal family located abroad and within Coerthas, an Ishgardian family living within the high reaches of a noble society. It was Odessa’s lengthy list of languages she could speak, grace, business ethics and go-getter attitude that drew Charlotte into solidifying Odessa as the best choice for her son, Adrian. Odessa was well-versed in literature and the ins and outs of how a proper noble Household was conducted and could even play four different instruments. Over time she would become a valuable asset to the Cress name and even more so with her quick wit, her sharp mind and skills in business affairs. Three years after moving to Ishgard with her husband Adrian from Valnain, Odessa would give birth to two girls, fraternal twins who bore the trademark golden eyes that originated from the Blackheart bloodline. She had given the twin girls the names Valeria and Vahalia as the namesake of the home they once had in Valnain. Once her daughters arrived, Odessa’s role within House Cress shifted drastically from shrewd businesswoman and wife of a mogul to a doting mother. Odessa went above and beyond for her girls and ensured the were both well-educated, self-sufficient and loved since the girls hadn’t received much attention or praise from their father. Still, Odessa and Adrian tried for a son and failed several times. Shortly after the birthdays of her daughters who had just turned seven and ten, Odessa fell gravely ill. Months later after a lengthy struggle with sickness, it claimed her. It was later dragged to light that Adrian Cress, her own husband had been her killer and the reason for it had been to claim her inheritance from the Blackhearts that would have gone to her children, only to save his business from the inevitable ruin that became of it anyways. 

Vahalia Cress

The youngest daughter of Adrian and Odessa Cress and the twin sister of Valeria. Vahalia was proven to be a bit of a prodigy in her younger years, having been taken under wing of a traveling Sharlayan that had taught her and two other students the skillset of what it meant to be a Red Mage. Throughout her extensive training, Vahalia had also excelled in things such as the violin, several languages and having a knack for both numbers and ledgers and poisons. To her dismay, she had followed in her father’s footsteps in that regard but had eventually taken more after her mother in the area of business and good trade practices. Over the years she had built up a reputable circle for herself and began working for Hadriel Isenhart well into her adult years, from there she was given rank and title to go along with the extensive slew of work he had entrusted her with. Coupled with such came new doors that opened for Vahalia that welcomed her into the more lucrative and exotic side of trade and business. From there, she spent a good few years as a staple for the Ashen Wolves and black market trading between organizations and partners. She had taken the opportunity to build up her side hustle for her future endeavors that eventually came to pay off in due course. After the death of Adrian Cress and Valeria’s disappearance (and assumed death for nearly 4 years) Vahalia spitefully sold Adrian’s company and started to rebuild the Cress ancestral home. It took her three years to pluck the Cress name from the brink of ruin and upon Valeria’s return, Vahalia swore she would see the name hold great weight, meaning and respect in the future to come; mainly to spite Adrian but also to give the bloodline the respect she thought it deserved. Since she has become quite an integral part of her partners within the Sanguine Council/Court that was formed between several noble Households (mostly interconnected in one way or another) providing just about anything to increase the wealth and success of House Cress in the North (Ishgard) and to solidify alliances for future generations. She is often seen lurking within and around soirees and events, balls and salons if only to keep up on idle chatter looking for nuggets of opportunity to latch on to. It is rumored that Vahalia had taken the life of Adrian Cress as revenge for what he had done to both her mother and her sister, Valeria. Rumors state that the Matriarch of House Cress in Ishgard has taken a husband and has seized all the remaining assets of House Slater that her (then) husband (Osric) had belonged to, giving House Cress both more man-power, pull within the political sphere of Ishgard and more land within the region. As of currently, she has begun construction on the island she had acquired located in the Bloodbrine Sea which is said to house a port for trade there called Black Water, the surrounding bay of that island owned by House Cress of Ishgard. It is here that transport and trade are linked via the ship known as the Sirensong. As of recent events, Lady Cress and her (former) husband Osric (formerly Slater) had parted ways and after just six months of marriage decided to divorce as there was irreconcilable differences. The pair, while divorced, remain on the same page as one another and have no ill will. Both are focused on co-parenting their children together who while conceived during the time of their marriage, will be born after the divorce has been finalized. Vahalia continues to support her ex-husband's endeavors and still considers him to be a part of the Cress family despite no longer carrying the last name or having a stationary, prominent role and leadership within the family itself. It is said she had offered him housing, gil and properties upon their separation but were adamantly declined by Osric.

Valeria Cress

The eldest daughter of Adrian and Odessa Cress and the twin sister of Vahalia. Unlike her sister, Valeria had been the more docile, quiet and gentle of the two sisters, even into their adult years. Valeria – like Vahalia – also had an extensive education having spent quite a lot of time with the Astrologians in Ishgard and out and about at the Atrologicum. Over time, her interest in books and relics brought her into a hobby and job at which she excelled at in Ishgard itself. Restoring old books and historical tomes of the history of Ishgard as well as artifacts and relics that would be well-kempt and conserved within the city archives. Valeria plays the harp and can carry a tune; she is the first and only in her family who has been said to have a lovely singing voice. At birth, she was born with golden-colored eyes like her sister but due to a recent accident that rendered her comatose for nearly 6 months, her left eye had changed to a soft green color an she now sports a light scar along her left temple. While being bedridden for a long period of time, Valeria’s health began to decline and upon waking, she had soon came to take note of the unexpected ‘curse’ that walked through life with her. Voices in the halls, shadows in the room and the sense of something always looming. She is capable of sensing the dead and otherworldly beings, catching voices from people that are crossing over into the lifestream and having a sensitivity to residual magical effects that linger in either objects or the air. Sometimes, this can be extremely debilitating for her but she has been learning to manage it much better in recent days, learning how to cope and use her abilities to her advantage. She is a slightly meek, demure woman and is often seen with a good-hearted smile and a graceful stance despite sometimes looking unwell. She seems to inhibit much of the demeanor that her grandmother had and is often seen as a nurturing individual. Whether or not she is capable of a mean streak and more malicious intent, has yet to be seen.

.......... ℭ𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

All documentation indicated that Osric was the eldest child of Benedict and Camilla Slater. Rumors indicated that he was the eldest child of Kenward Slater, Benedict’s younger brother and Camilla. The rumor was never confirmed and any documentation that may have indicated that the eldest Slater was sired by anyone other than Benedict was never found. Raised as heir apparent to a house that was raised to nobility due to its military service, Osric spent the majority of his time growing up understanding the inner workings of his house with the understanding that military service would be expected at some point - that point came after the death of his parents. One of the requests listed within his parent's will was that he fulfill his ‘duty’ as a Slater and enlist - and ever the dutiful son, he followed through on their request, despite the arguments from his younger sister, Edalene. Osric quickly rose through the ranks, obtaining the title of Dragoon - at which time he was assigned to the small village of Bleakpoint in the Western Highlands. The village was, at the time, home to ‘heretics’ who turned on Osric after several weeks - he barely survived the attack, but not before slaughtering all who were there - this led to several questions from his superiors and led to him questioning his loyalty not only to the organization but to the city he was supposed to be fighting for.  He left Ishgard shortly thereafter, leaving his house in the care of his sister. After a brief stint as a wandering mercenary Osric joined the Ashen Wolves, where he met Vahalia Cress, and shortly after joining the Wolves a mission led to a return trip to Bleakpoint. Very little is known about the outcome of that mission, only that several weeks later what remained of the village was left burnt to the ground. No one is quite sure how this occurred. Osric returned to the fold in Ishgard within the last year, retaking the reins from his sister as news of his betrothal to Vahalia Cress began to spread. With the marriage then official, all assets had belonged to House Cress and construction beginning on the Slater estate to repurpose the building into barracks, his focus turned towards supporting his wife at the time in her endeavors and beginning to fill the barracks with a worthwhile fighting force. Since the two had separated amicably, the pair had jointly decided to keep one another close and support one another while also living separate lives since their divorce.

A son of the antediluvian kingdom of Dalmasca, Hakan is as the nation itself; scarred, yet unbowed. His life is as much an open book as his past a mystery, one that has been shaped by war, resistance, and a burning desire to survive regardless of the cost. There were no toys for him living and growing beneath the shadow of foreign rule, no companions save the gun and the blade. Where he should have learned to harness the magic that thrummed within his chest at the hands of sages, instead he studied from would-be overlords how to take apart and put together their magitek contraptions. What better weapon to use than that which your enemy used? Thus he is a cynical, calculated, and oftentimes cold individual to those he meets and knows. Yet with the collapse of Garlemald, the source of nearly every woe imaginable to all lands beneath the sun, his priorities have shifted.  With no great enemy to fight or dog his footstep, a recently acquired airship of some speed, and an abundance of time, Hakan has fully put to use what skills he gained fighting in the Far East for his own benefit. For the nonce he has taken to aiding the Ishgardian House Cress, a family whom he has built some relation with, in their burgeoning trade Empire in-between missions he now gives to himself.

Art Heist, Baby! thoughts pt. 7

chapter 19:

1. already crying. james is guard dogging remus after the previous chapters incident. he’s keeping watch by remus’ bed. my babies

2. wolfstar, please work out please please please

3. SIRIUS SAID THAT HE LOVES REMUS DURING THEIR FIGHT GOD DAMN

4. “Remus had already forgiven him for anything he could possibly do the second they first kissed in that museum” THIS GOT ME SO BAD

5. NOOOOO SIRIUS IS WORRIED THAT THE LAST TIME HE KISSED REMUS WOULD BE THE LAST TIME EVER NOO

6. sobbing fr over how regulus is genuinely surprised that james came back

7. sobbing HARDER NOW. james is telling reg to get his gun and shoot him cause that’s the price of love. sobbvijgn wait sobbing cryih fhsjhdksjkakjajsk

8. 😳 this james is also a kinky mf. i wasn’t gonna say anything about him definitely being turned on with a gun to his head, but this chapter confirmed my inside thoughts.

9. regulus using remus as collateral is the ahb universe jegulus version of the 5th year wolfstar prank in canon.

10. JAMES AND SIRIUS! JAMES AND SIRIUS! JAMES AND SIRIUS! THEYRE HANGING OUT! FUCK YEAH

chapter 20:

1. JAMES AND SIRIUS GETTING ON LIKE FIRE FUCK YEAH

2. james still comes back to regulus’ door and it HURTS

3. sirius getting jealous of barty, evan, and reg’s brotherhood is both satisfying and oh so angering

4. dorcas dresses the best, confirmed

5. the black brothers and back and bonding babey!!!

chapter 21:

1. shit, reg and siri are fighting about remus and it’s getting dirty. verbal punches are being THROWN

2. WAIT HOLY SHIT THE BLACK BROTHERS ARE H U G G I N G. GODDAMN

3. this will be reg’s last heist. thank fucking god. if they all get out of this alive, then they can all be happy ever after. (feed into my delusions pls)

4. i too am part of the “having complicated emotions about regulus black club”

5. 😧 shocked speechless. remus joked about marrying sirius

6. james crying at weddings is so canon

The Cress B-31-H kiln. It’s currently stored in my in-law’s garage. I’ll be building a kiln room for it, and updating the electricical controls to electronical.

It has SEVEN control knobbies for SEVEN sets of kiln elements. The most I had seen prior to this is six.

That introduces a challenge in wiring up an electronical controller. They max out at three outputs, and people pair up sets of elements for that.

With this fella, one output will control three elements. I’ll have to figure out which set that will be.

Another mystery are the four sets of wires feeding this beast. Typically kilns have three wires: two 120VAC and a ground. This one must have a neutral, which one would need for any 120VAC loads. No idea what would require that.

I’ll know more once we get it to Slaughterhouse House and take it apart.

The info plate says it draws 53 amps, so it will be direct wired.

norm meets juniper

So remember that multifandom au fic i said i’d do last year? Finally published a chapter of that lol

Also some old art for it because i havnt done anything recently with it fhshfhshfhsj

Every time I hear What Was I Made For from Barbie I fucking sob guys

Pili Cress

Pili was the first of the siblings to start work at The Potpourri. Always having an interest in drink mixing (as well as a side interest in robotics), he immediately applied when he saw that the bar was looking for new bartenders. His look and composure caught Gwain's attention and the skunk hired him on the spot. Not long after were Pecan (as a server/escort) and Pistachio (as a dancer) hired.

The eldest and seemingly the more mature of the Cress triplets. Compared to Pecan's outgoingness and Pistachio's penchant for dancing, Pili comes across as stoic and calm. This also shows in his choice to study judo and aikido opposed to capoeira or kickboxing like his brothers.

That being said, this boy is by far the most perverted of the three. Able to keep this mostly hidden, he's the most likely to picture patrons either in their underwear or fully naked. Really catch his attention and this bartender might ask if you want fresh rabbit cream straight from the tap.

Blood Brier

The family crypts seemed to hold a natural and perpetual night that daylight could never penetrate being so far below ground. There was a raw chill in the air, heavy and stale; such only the dead had come to find rest within. Each still within their stone coffins, unopened and unyielding to the world around them within their small bubble of slumber, aether long since traveled back into the lifestream.

Eternal rest.

It sounded nice in theory for someone to finally find peace after such a hard labor called life. It made Vahalia wonder what each person before her might have struggled with, what ambitions and dreams they had strived to chase and what hand they finally caught up to within their lifetime to leave a mark on the world – the Cress name, the family bloodline and what hers might look like at her own end.

It was the dream of two small flickering lights in a sea of darkness that coiled a thought within her head. They very same singular curiosity that had brought her to the depths below, torch ablaze and lighting the way within the belly and rocks of the manor. Elegant fingers swept over a cold stone plate at the end of a coffin to reveal a name, Baron Cress and beside him had rested dear grand-mere, Charlotte. She had never known her grandfather and was very young when her grandmother had passed, both she and Valeria being the joy in the elder’s life before her passing.

Reaching up with her torch, Vahalia found the very thing she had come into the darkness for in the dead of night. Hanging loose and by an old frail sliver of leather twine, eaten by time, was a dusty and discolored bell. It was small, charming even and while some might have found the little trinket to be adorable, down here it was merely part of the undertow of passing and forgotten baubles of the dead.

Not that they required it now.

She felt the sticky kiss of cobwebs at her flesh when her fingers curved over the swell of the cold metal and she lifted it away, the clapper found the side and the dull din sounded out once with the movement of her hand before she sidestepped to Charlotte’s coffin and reached for hers. Like Barons, the bell was of the same material, modest though hard to tell with the caked debris encasing the pieces.

Like before her fingers found the sound bow of the bell, the leather strap, and then slipped that into her palm as well. Tributes and trinkets of a bloodline long traveled from Dalmasca, eventually through time coming to an end when her Grandfather passed and thus a new tradition had been born through her father and mother – but perhaps now was time to return to old roots, deep seeded connections into rich history.

With nary a word and barely a sound, Vahalia had made her way back from where she came and began the ascend into the warmth of the manorhouse, torch in hand and her family laurels in her grasp. Such accolades would mean very little to her at current but in time, it could mean so much more to others. A breadth of new hope and life into traditions long since forgotten after Baron’s parting from the other branch of the Cress family and in life.

The Return

Ondrea was seated gracefully in a chair positioned in front of a high risen window, offering a panoramic view of the expansive ocean enveloping the city of Limsa. Resting against her was a cello, from which emanated a profound and resonant melody. Ondrea possessed a multitude of talents, yet it was with this particular instrument that she truly excelled. The notes she produced were not merely read from a written score, but rather a harmonious composition crafted within the depths of her own mind.

The impending storm far off in the distance was sure to cast a pall over the city. Ondrea's contemplation was abruptly interrupted by a gentle knock at her door, capturing her immediate attention. She gracefully disengaged the bow of her instrument and set it to rest, then with the utmost decorum, she proceeded to welcome the individual concealed beyond the sturdy oak door of her chamber.

Upon opening the door, she was taken aback to find her brother, Argrin, standing before her, adorned in a complete ensemble of ebony and gold plate armor. He was further embellished with a gold velvet cloak, fastened by an intricate pin crafted in the likeness of a raven.

Argrin was a man who possessed the physical and mental attributes necessary for warfare. He was a contemplative individual who upheld the principles of diplomacy that were associated with his name. Argrin bore a striking resemblance to his late father though his eyes carried a mockery of the brilliant gold of his sisters. Instead, his were deep pools of bottle green waters.

Argrin's countenance softened, revealing a side of him that Ondrea had only witnessed in solitary company. "I had anticipated a modicum of delight from you upon reuniting with your brother after such a prolonged absence," he remarked. Indeed, Argrin had been dispatched by their Uncle to undergo an extended period of training.

His appearance had altered slightly, with his hair grown out and his facial hair appearing coarser and longer. It was apparent that he had only recently arrived at the harbor, as he had not yet had the opportunity to groom or refresh himself. “May I come in?”

Ondrea stepped aside, allowing her brother to enter. Argrin's footsteps echoed in perfect rhythm with the faint clinking of his steel against his dark armor. Argrin's eyes swiftly scanned Ondrea's chambers as he spoke;

"I have been informed that the shipwrights have an immense amount of work ahead of them." Argrin paused by Ondrea's resting cello, gently caressing the strings with a leather-clad finger, while his other hand rested on the pommel of his weapon. "Why is that?" Ondrea's voice carried across the room.

From her vantage point, she could see why he was known as The Bulwark of Limsa. Argrin was formidable in battle, yet there was always a kindness in his eyes—though their sincerity was uncertain, he had always shown Ondrea kindness. The atmosphere around Argrin shifted, the colors aloft about his body was swirling and merging until they transformed from a deep red to a troubling forest green. Something was amiss.

 "The winds carry whispers. It would be unwise to speak of their accuracy, but to ensure our preparedness, we must increase our fleet and recruit more soldiers."  "—And what about The Fallen Hook?" Argrin's mismatched eyes turned towards his sister, his once confident expression now somber. "Your magical abilities are sharp, dear sister." Argrin released his finger from the strings and approached Ondrea, placing his hand on her unadorned mantle he spoke down to her. "Strengthen your security. Perhaps sever new connections to ensure our survival."

Ondrea's golden honey-colored eyes swiftly rose to meet Argrin's gaze. She experienced a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach, as such a look was not one to be ignored.

"There are certain individuals whose absence would be detrimental to our cause, while others would prove advantageous. If you suspect any of our workers of treason, I will personally ensure that they are dealt with severely and with great predacious." she stated firmly.

 Argrin's countenance twisted with mild amusement, which was accompanied by a soft chuckle emanating from his throat. "I acknowledge your inclination towards violence, but such rash actions need not be taken at this time."  "Why wait?" Ondrea hissed at her kin. "We have already lost many of our family members to the enemy. Why continue to follow the same pattern when we can eliminate them ourselves?" Argrin's hand lifted from Ondrea's shoulder and moved to her chin, where he slowly lifted it to gain her attention. This gesture troubled Ondrea, as it was one that their father had employed on her numerous occasions, not to gain her attention, but rather to belittle her.  Argrin was not Hadriel, but his eyes were reminiscent of their father's. "Wait for the opportune moment, Ondrea. Save your violent tendencies for when they are necessary. I require you to be of sound mind and able body. Allow me to handle the pressures of the court."

Ondrea turned her head, freeing herself from Argrin's grasp. Without hesitation, Argrin withdrew his hand and took a step back before circling around her and making his way towards the door. "There is a banquet this evening to celebrate my return. Our uncle expects your presence," Argrin said, a familiar smile appearing on his face. "Invite our cousins. I am certain they would be delighted to experience our cuisine."

Ondrea glanced briefly over her shoulder, exchanging a look with Argrin that only siblings would exchange. "I will attend your dinner." "I would not expect anything less, Ondrea."

With that, the door creaked open and closed gently as Argrin departed. In the distance, the sound of thunder rumbled over the turbulent sea. Something was stirring. The sea winds rarely lied.

Maze of Mirrors; House of Cards

Silence.

It was deafening among the sounds of old crackling parchments being moved about and achy bindings of forgotten tomes. Cordelia’s gaze held firm on the scribbles she read through with distinct detail, nearly aware of Ricard’s presence in the room as he did the same. She was refusing sleep, food, and drink, her mind was set on finding further answers and it would take a force of great convincing to get her to change her mind. There had barely been a word exchanged between the two once they left her room to venture deeper within the estate to settle in for a long day ahead as Cordelia’ headstrong nature took over. 

A heavy sigh escaped her parted lips as heavy eyelids finally closed for a moment, papers tossed aside in the same motion while her head leaned back against the chair she sat in. Doing as she often did in a stressful situation or when deep in thought, her thumb rubbed against the ring on her right pointer finger and still she held silence. 

Ricard glanced over his shoulder for a moment before flipping through a few more papers, setting aside the tome he’d been reviewing before turning around, his arms crossed over his chest. His vest had long been unbuttoned, the top button of his shirt undone, and he looked like he’d been rifling through papers for hours because he had been. 

Something had to give.

“You’re not sleeping in that damn chair, Cordelia. If I have to toss you over my shoulder and drag you back to your room and tie you to the bed to make sure you sleep then that’s what’s going to happen. You’re not helpful to me the way you are at the moment and you damn well know it.” 

He walked over, leaning over the chair, setting his hands on both of the armrests as his eyes narrowed at her dozing form. “Give me one good  reason why I don’t pick you up right now.”

She propped an elbow on one of the arms of the chair, aware now of his hands there as she rested the side of her head against her hand. “You know that is hardly a threat, Ricard.” Cordelia quipped in a playful manner, though her usual quirk and sass was barely present in her tone. Eyes opened to look up at him with yet another sigh as her brows furrowed. “Plus, I’m not sleeping, I just needed to give my vision a break from trying to read all of this.” The hand that held her head now waved around them, gesturing at the mess they had  been successful in making despite her attempts at being organized.

“Trying being the key word. What’s the last thing you actually retained?” He tilted his head, completely unconvinced by her claim of ‘not sleeping’. He knew she hadn’t slept the night before, and they’d been at this wild goose chase for hours with no rest.

“Did you find anything?”  She opted to ignore his question and instead asked one of her own.

His tongue brushed across one of his canines quickly. “A handful of documents - missives between your late husband and that broker of his with the allergy that I absolutely didn’t take advantage of. But I’d still need to find a few missing pieces for the missives to be useful. I still think the pieces are in that pile of papers, but I also think that a rested extra set of eyes are more likely to help me find them than a sleep deprived set. You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends like  this and expect to find anything, Cordelia.”

Steel gray hues usually holding a sort of vibrancy now held his gaze with a tempered and tired look. This hadn’t been the first attempt at getting her to take a rest, all other times before had obviously failed but she was at her breaking point and the cracks were showing. “Give me another hour and I will go lay down after if we haven’t found what we’re looking for.” Absently, her hand now fell to rest on his arm almost as if the touch were second nature. “Deal?” 

His gaze dropped to the hand on his arm and he didn’t fight the heavy sigh that left him. After a moment he straightened up, running a hand over his face before turning back to the papers scattered across nearly every piece of furniture within the room. “Thirty minutes, and if I see you close your eyes or doze off, Fury help me, I will pick you up and carry you to your room myself, regardless of whether or not we’ve found something and I will make sure you stay there and rest. I understand this is important to you, but for fuck’s sake, Cordelia - it’s not worth your health.” 

She simply scoffed in response as she watched him stand as her hand fell away with the movement, unrelated. “Thirty minutes.” Cordelia finally gave in, pushing to stand as well and moving toward a pile of books on a nearby table. Scanning them for a silent moment, she eventually settled on one, reaching for it and lifting it into her grasp as the binding was nothing more than show. Not so much a bound book as it was a folder, a few pages shook loose and fluttered to the floor. Tilting her head, Cordelia narrowed her eyes on the writing before kneeling down and plucking it within her fingers. Her mother’s signature.

“Ricard.” She said his name blankly as she now began looking through the other pages. Letters between her mother and Adrian, but even more important letters between her mother and Ambrose. Unsurprising that he sought her out instead of her ‘father’ to use as an exploit. She hadn’t been weak of mind by any means but Elsbeth certainly had a softer heart and a strong desire to protect her family name above all else. Eventually she came to documents signed by all three parties; her parents and Ambrose. 

“Hm?” Book in hand, Ricard turned towards the source of the voice, still flipping through various financial records and missives and grumbling under his breath about an organizational ‘system’ for a moment before snapping the book shut and setting it down with an irritated huff.

“Find something worth reading?” He moved over, glancing over her shoulder and eyes scanning the pages in her hand with a quirked eyebrow. “A reminder of why, if you’re going to have a scandalous affair of any kind, you don’t keep evidence of it in writing…but what did your parents have to say, hm?”

She held the papers up a bit more so that he could see them more clearly, eventually offering for him to take them if he wished. “Seems my assumptions were pretty close. Ambrose went after my mother, he figured out the weakness and exploited that. I… can’t tell the entire story from this but from what I gather he sought her out first, she likely convinced Archer to sign everything over.” 

He scoffed, taking the offered papers and reading through them with a scowl. “So why not turn the bastard in for attempted blackmail? Why jump through all these hoops - it feels like there’s a piece missing. He goes after your mother, your mother wants to protect…who? Adrian Cress? You? Both? Herself? What’s the payoff here?” 

A low hum rumbled through his chest as he turned on his heel, pacing a few steps as he read through the letters.

A heavy sigh left her as she shook her head. “I don’t know. He consumed my family’s entire livelihood with our marriage contract. My mother likely did everything she thought was right to keep this secret quiet.” As he took to pacing, Cordelia found herself yet again back in the chair she had rested in prior, brows furrowed in thought. “Sweeping this under the rug is the only positive in their direction in this. They lost everything in the end despite them trying to procure an arrangement that would still benefit them as our businesses were still rightfully in my name to some degree.” With a pause, she flicked her gaze up and over to him as her features hardened just slightly. “It was partially why I sought to be rid of Ambrose, to regain control of it all and take what was left as mine as well.” 

“Right - I understand that, but we’ve still got a situation where this man is clearly doing some shady shit to get your family into this marriage contract and they go along with it. Why?” He waved the letters, tapping his chin with his free hand. “What is it about the relationship your mother had with Adrian Cress…or what is it about you that made it so important that people don’t know that you’re a Cress…important enough that it’d be okay to give away an entire business without much of a fight…” 

Ricard turned, pointing towards Cordelia. “You have a child, hypothetically, for the sake of this conversation - and that child is born out of wedlock with the love of your life whoever that happens to be - and you can’t acknowledge that man, but you’d do anything to protect him…what are you protecting him from?”

“I don’t know, Ricard. Everything I know is right there.” She gestured to him with frustration as the slew of emotions and lack of sleep riddled her typically rather sharp mind. “I still don’t even know what I’m going to do with all this. But I don’t think my mother was trying to protect Adrian, I think it was more about keeping our family safe… unless Ambrose threatened Adrian too and then it turned into threats from the Cress side as well…”

“You…lady Gray…are too tired for this. That’s what this is. We’re talking in circles.” He took the letters and carefully tucked them into his vest before moving over to the chair she was seated in and picking her up with little warning. “And your time limit is up. You need sleep, food, maybe a good bath, and then to come at this with a clear head. You’re not going to see shit with fog covered eyes.”

Cordelia retaliated initially with his actions, the movement of being plucked from her seat and into his arms catching her unexpectedly, despite his warning from earlier. With a heavy, defeated sigh, she gave in and settled within his hold with a curse beneath her breath as she allowed her head to lower and nestle to his shoulder as she began to give in to the tiredness she was fighting.

He turned towards the door, cradling her against his chest as he walked. “What, if we’re throwing out ideas, if it had nothing to do with protecting the adults and had everything to do with protecting you from something? Hm?”

Lifting her head to look up at him, her brow rose with question. “Do you think Adrian sought to bring harm to me? After going through the effort and acceptance of allowing me to live in the first place?”

“Adrian? No - I think that letter to your mother…the first one, indicates that he wouldn’t do anything. But that’s not to say there weren’t other adults around that, if they found out about you wouldn’t be more inclined to see you gone.” He shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t leaning against as he moved through the halls - her bedroom coming into view. “All idle speculation at the moment. We need a timeline, we need more information, we need to know the pieces on the board, and you need rest. The papers aren’t going to up and walk away if you get a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll keep looking.”

Her gaze fell from his as he spoke, mind pondering his assumptions and speculations. He had a point, but to get to the truth would be more difficult than she originally expected. .In regards to needing rest, she knew he was right but would die before outwardly admitting.  As they neared her room, she adjusted and pushed from him so that she could try to weasel out to be set down. “If I am being forced to take a break then you should take one as well.” Cordelia scolded, the lack of interest in arguing over the matter extremely evident in her tone. “There’s no need for you to continue wasting your time here.” 

Her squirming was met with a quirked eyebrow, but he set her down nonetheless, tilting his head as he pulled the letters from his vest and moved to set them on her bedside table for her. “Wasting my time, hm? Are you kicking me out, Lady Gray?”

She adjusted the fabrics of her dress, no, nightgown. She was still in her nightgown. The realization caused her to shake her head, judging herself for the lack of preparation in her appearance. Cordelia was, if anything, a bit of a traditional snob, preferring to keep proper grooming and dress habits up at all times and here she was still in her sleepwear from the night before. 

He turned back towards her, walking over slowly, “Let’s keep in mind - I wasn’t the one up all night pouring over papers. And it’s not a waste of time if it’s helpful to you.” If he noted her scolding tone, he seemed to ignore it entirely, as he reached out, fingers brushing under her chin lightly. 

The touch brought a tease of a smirk to her lips as she looked up to him. “No, not kicking you out… but be careful, Mister Blythe, one might think you may actually care.” She taunted, as her head tilted just slightly. “You are welcome to stay, if that is what you wish.” 

Ricard scoffed, leaning down a bit closer. “I can care from time to time. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.” He let his hand fall away, taking a moment to adjust his vest. “But we wouldn’t want people to start thinking it’s a common occurrence.” 

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking something over. “I’ll wait around - make sure you actually fall asleep and don’t just wait for me to leave the room before popping up and getting right back to work. While you are actually sleeping I should be able to start piecing together a timeline of some sort - I hope.”

Cordelia hummed softly as she turned from him to cross the room to a large wardrobe, opening it and reaching in to retrieve a similar nightdress to the one she was currently wearing but clean. “Your secret is safe with me.” She mused out loud, returning her attention to him. Her eyes fell on him, slightly narrowed as the light fabric dress draped over her arms. “I don’t need a watcher, Ricard.” The tone was warning but also somehow it offered something else. 

“Then what do you need, Cordelia?” He tilted his head with a small smirk, arms crossing loosely over his chest as he watched her move about the room. 

The bed had been made, her staff having come in at some point during the day to see that the mess she had left about was tended to. She took the papers he put on the nightstand and tucked them away into the drawer as a show of good faith that she was actually planning on resting before pulling the covers back in preparation to slip in once she was settled. “Now, if you will excuse me,” her arm lifted slightly, gesturing to the new dress to be swapped out. 

He seemed to pause, measuring something in his head for a long moment before the smirk shifted to a wide grin and he motioned towards the nightdress. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go right ahead. I can help if you like.” Now he was just being difficult…or playful, depending on how one looked at it. They’d spent hours digging through papers and being serious, perhaps some light-hearted banter would allow for a slightly different perspective - or perhaps he was simply being a shit. 

Catching his tone and the shift in atmosphere, she decided to call him on his bluff with a chuckle, tossing the gown from her arm to the bed all while holding his gaze. “Hm, I fear that I may not quite get the rest you so adamantly suggest I need if I take you up on that offer,” she began though her hands gestured out to her sides with a grin. “Though, by all means…” 

Ricard’s gaze lazily drifted over her form as he closed the distance between them. “Perhaps not immediately, but you’d be thoroughly relaxed by the end of it. And the rest you’d get would be restful.” He reached out, a hand sliding down her side and finding her waist before drawing her to him. “So let me ask you again…what is it that you need, Cordelia?”

It seemed no matter how many times they came to this, they played the game. The back and forth was endearing, in a sense, it continued to call back to their humble beginnings. Not that they had come so incredibly far from it, but it was a growth of sorts even still. Allowing him to pull her closer, she leaned into Ricard further as she lifted her gaze to stay on his. “You threatened to take me to bed…” her voice had dropped to a lower tone, the seductive melody seeping out despite her tiredness. She needed a distraction, even for a moment, and he was here for the taking. Lifting her chin just a slight bit more so that her breathy words could be felt against his skin. “…so take me to bed, Ricard, and help me forget all of this for a little while.” 

The need stated without being stated, and he wouldn’t let the desire go unfulfilled. “As you wish.” There was a tenderness in his gaze - brief though it was - as he leaned down to lift her up once more, carrying her to the bed and gently depositing her in the middle of it before moving over her, brushing her hair away from her face. 

“By the time we’re done the only name you’ll be thinking about will be mine.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers and intent on doing just that.

Thoughts of Cress, and Gray, of Adrian, Ambrose, Elsbeth, and all others…they could wait until the morning.

[Collab writing : @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

[@sanguinecourt-ffxiv @house-cress]

Okay but why do I love this design so much? It’s so simple, but so fitting for him!

LIKE DAMN, CRESS.

Art Heist, Baby! thoughts pt.3

chapter 7:

1. remus smothering toast in like six different toppings 😌. i smell an atyd reference here (second one. first was when remus mentioned a “grant” looking after the coffee shop for him.)

2. there’s no way in gods green earth that ahb james doesn’t have a praise kink.

3. REMUS DONT FUCK THIS DATE UP (and don’t say motorbike) (but it’s okay cause sirius finds you hot anyways)

4. i’m literally SCREAMING. REMUS PLEASE ask sirius’ last name. make the connection, for the love of god. this is making me so anxious for them.

5. JAMES CONFESSING THAT HE WANTED TO KISS REG AT THE MUSEUM. they’re so in love your honor.

6. and then he goes back upstairs to the party. 😑 both of them are so gone on each other tho.

chapter 8:

1. sirius is a pathetic, pathetic man. he already thinks remus is the one and wants to move in with him. i pray, that just this once, the universe will be kind to them.

2. THE REGULUS AND SIRIUS CONFRONTATION 😳😳

the degas was sirius’ favorite which is why regulus stole it 😭😭😭

walburga and orion are dead. thank fucking god.

regulus left sirius to die that night oh my god. they were both children, but yeah, i’d hold a bit of a grudge too, holy shit.

i wish sirius joined regulus. i’m hoping and praying that he will. please please please be a criminal with him. don’t make wolfstar suffer. reunite with your brother. make james and sirius besties again. please please please.

chapter 9:

1. dorcas my beloved

2. dorlene’s on the record/off the record feelings are just AHHHHH

3. REGULUS CRYING IN THE OVERFLOWING BATHTUB OVER THE DEGAS HE WANTED GO GIBE TO SIRIUS. please end this heartbreak, i beg of you. sirius, please go back to a life of crime.

4. regulus saying that james and sirius would get along really well. PLEASE YOUR HONOR, THEY WERE BEST FREINDS AND BROTHERS IN ANOTHER LIFETIME. REUNITE SIRIUS AND JAMES.

5. REGULUS FLINGS HIMSELF INTO JAMES’ ARM FOR A HUG!

i really said “i don’t write fic” and then dana got me twice in the row with the need to write toh stuff huh