I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)
As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)
He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.
(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)
It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.
(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)
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“why do i miss gem and the scotts suddenly theyre barely even real”
LITERALLY!! like. that team was held together with scott tape and the sheer force of gem’s personality. i don’t think scott and impulse ever actually even talked the entire time. it only worked because for the first time scott was faced with someone who was bossier than he was. they were awesome i should rewatch secret life
they were actually so fucking funny. All three of them promising to remain loyal and stick together until the very end (bc together they can win this!!) only for gem to hunt scott for sport an episode later was literally so based… their dynamic will always be funnier in my head i think but god it was awesome
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Prompt 16: Deiform
FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge
Prompt 16: Deiform
“Never… again,” groaned out Araki as he flopped into one of the chairs just inside the Rising Stones, leaning back far enough his head was hanging over the back. Beside him Arthur grumbled, his own head dropped onto the table in front of them, cushioned on his arms.
“So many moogles. So many,” added Connor, pulling his legs up and propping his head on them.
“And there was music,” Matsu muttered, seeming dazed and lost. He turned his head, the awkwardness of it betraying his exhaustion. “You all heard the music, yes? That cheery, entirely out of place music?”
“They had a bard,” Araki reminded his brother, not moving.
“So do we,” Connor replied, pointing at the lalafell sleeping in Llewellyn’s arms. “We never hear music with him, not like that.”
“Aye, closest we’re usually gettin’ is me singin’,” Brigid agreed. She dropped heavily into one of the chairs, William close behind. Her twin only patted her shoulder and ruffled Connor’s hair (making the teenager huff half-heartedly) before going towards the bar. The sounds of him putting the kettle on and getting bottles from the shelves soon reached the ears and horns of the Warriors of Light.
“What would we do without him,” Connor muttered, drawing a soft laugh from Arthur.
“Have to organize our own shit,” he said, finally pulling his head back up. Matsu’s hand moved slowly towards Arthur, and at his boyfriend’s nod, slowly brushed his fringe out of his face. Arthur leaned his face into the touch, relaxing slowly.
Silence reigned, at least until William brought over a teapot, cups, and a large bottle of whiskey and set them on the table. The assembled family poured and adulterated their tea to their preferences, Llewellyn waking Sammy up for his own cup.
“To Good King Moggle Mog XII,” Brigid finally said, raising her cup. The others did the same, and she sighed softly. “Long may his pom be leavin’ us ‘lone!”
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WoW is still dead to me (unless Dragonflight winds up being okay I guess, there’s definitely a few things I’m worried about happening but eh), but no matter how far I distance myself I can never let go of the Varian feels in the corner patiently waiting their turn for the spotlight again. I miss him a lot but God, I have NOT been able to get myself into the hellgame for anything. This sucks.
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