#ser charibert
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Happy Valentine's Day to all!
Commission I did for @uv-leo for his lovely girlfriend.
Seems like VDay is extra sweet for Mari and Charibert!
#commissions#commissions open#charibert de leusignac#final fantasy 14#final fantasy online#final fantasy xiv#ffxiv#ser charibert#my art#valentines day#pinup commissions#pinup art#pinup#final fantasy
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Thin Ice
Mathye, about a year before meeting Riven and several days out from his ordination as a mid-tier Halonic priest. However due to his aetherical skill, both offensively and defensively, he was given a rather coveted position within the Vault. Much to the displeasure of some of his new coworkers, Mathye would continue to work when he could at the Congregation. This decision would save his life nine months later, when he unexpectedly returned to the Knights Dragoon as a full time healer. Officially, it was a request from Heustinne that was approved by Aymeric--skilled healers were badly needed on the front lines of the Dragonsong War, and Mathye had no problems with the transfer/demotion.
Unofficially...
Mathye was in trouble. While serving in the Vault, his Echo enabled him to pick up on the lingering energies of the Archbishop’s tempering of the Heavens’ Ward. When it became clear that he was the only one who was sensing this particular magic, Mathye attempted--as discreetly as possible, to try and find the source. However a run-in with the High Inquisitor along with a warning from a fellow cleric made Mathye realize that he was in grave danger.
Charibert wasn’t pleased with the younger priest’s sudden escape, but Ysayle and her heretic band--along with the destruction of Ishgard’s wards ensured that the matter fell by the wayside. The two would not encounter each other again--until Riven stormed the Vault with Augustine and Reinhardt, Mathye behind them as their battle-medic.
#ffxiv#ffxiv white mage#ffxiv whm#ser charibert#heavens' ward#ffxiv heavensward#mathye bishop#the forbidden tools#got inspired in FC discord for a younger mathye in medic mode#then this popped out#that meeting put the fucking FEAR of Halone into Mathye#literally it was 'it was at this moment he knew he fucked up'
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SICKNESS MUST BE PURGED
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Heaven's ward knights survived au ( Day 14)
Ser Charibert- My Lady has teeth ~ * Charibert drawls as he smirks*
Kaida- Shut up, one word and I will slice your throat for stalking me Charibert
Ser Charibert- By the fury, your beautiful * queue him imagine torturing Kaida for all the heretical things she may or may have not done*
Among all her knights, Charibert is the one she is always on her guard with. The closest relationship I can think of that describes them is Gon and Hisoka relionship from Hunter x hunter
#yukiotacon#ffxiv#ffxiv fic#ffxiv fanfiction#final fantasy xiv#final fantasy x reader#ff14 headcanons#final fantasy xiv headcanons#ff14 fanfic#Charibert#ffxiv heavensward#heavensward#Ser Charibert#ffxiv gpose#gpose shenanigans#gposers#ff14 gpose#gposing#fun with gpose
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FFXIVWrite Day 14: "Attrition"
[M] Day 14: "Attrition"
Relationship: Cagalli / Aymeric
Characters: Cagalli, Aymeric, Feo Ul, Charibert
Spoilers: 5.0
CWs: Implied torture, PTSD, nightmares, graphic violence and injury, strangulation, death
After reliving the same hellish moments countless nights a year, Aymeric had begun to distinguish reality from byproducts of the scars upon his mind as he slept.
That made each experience feel no less real, however.
Aymeric writhed, tangled in the cobweb of burning chains as Charibert sneered unsympathetically. Every breath burned his lungs from the inside out, and the true punishment had yet to even begin. This Aymeric remembered with excruciatingly vivid detail.
Aymeric fell limp, held upright only by the chains that pinched his exposed skin until it bled and dug relentlessly into the abrasions. He knew he was reliving a lie. The only question was how to escape it.
Somewhere in his vicinity, Charibert made ready to continue, as he always did, by picking through the horrific instruments that lined the rack on the opposite wall.
“‘Tis a delicate art, you understand,” Charibert mentioned in a tone that Aymeric had only heard while discussing the weather over afternoon tea. “Different men succumb to different, ah, incentives. You may be certain that I shall find yours yet.”
Aymeric scowled, retorting with the same response as he always did. “My weakness is my mortality. You will have to kill me.”
Of course, in hindsight, Aymeric now knew he spoke in ignorance.
Charibert turned towards his victim, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so? How curious. I have reason to believe otherwise.”
And what would occur from there was anyone’s best guess.
Aymeric always tried to escape, yet considering the countless times he had tried, only to be denied, he was beginning to suspect he would need a partner-in-crime to pull it off. Every time, he had only been woken in the end by the cessation of his own memories, or his own thrashing in the waking world, which would in turn alert Cagalli (or, more often than not, his cat) of his fitful slumber.
If only he could recall whether such an accomplice was here to help.
Ordinarily, if it were the case, he would be awoken once Charibert began his second bout of ministrations. Yet the mage approached, a flame winking into life in the palm of his hand, and Aymeric’s nightmare showed no signs of abating. He sighed inwardly and steeled himself to the hell that was to follow.
Yet it never came.
A mystic glow emanated from the hallway outside Aymeric’s cell, and Charibert shifted, focusing on the dark shadow that was suddenly cast over the torches that lined the corridor. Familiar footsteps resonated through the dungeons as Cagalli stepped into view, and notably not the Cagalli that Aymeric would have remembered at the time his dreadful memories had been formed.
“My thanks, Feo Ul,” Cagalli said softly. She shifted onto her back foot and leaned gently forward, angling her neck to form an intimidating stance.
An explanation wormed its way through Aymeric’s mind. Feo Ul, of the pixies of Norvrandt, who possessed the power to manipulate dreams.
Ah.
Cagalli raised her right hand above her head and snapped her fingers with a resounding crack. Instantly, the chains binding Aymeric’s limbs unraveled and retreated into the stone wall. The formerly-dim torches flared to life and the walls unfolded as though hinged to the floor, transforming the gloomy chamber into a brightly lit square platform, soon to become the site of a massacre as Cagalli cavorted with the new power at her fingertips.
“Ser Charibert,” Cagalli declared confidently. “I’ve come to bargain.”
The shade of Charibert that yet resided in Aymeric’s subconscious scowled in lieu of knowing what to say, like an actor mid-performance who had forgotten his lines. Aymeric felt grim satisfaction bubble through his gut as Charibert lit his whip with flame and lashed out, knowing Cagalli had matters well in hand, even if it was growing increasingly difficult to fight the instinct to beseech Cagalli to retreat.
The whip snaked around Cagalli’s waist and bound her wrists, yet she did not budge. Angrily, Charibert intensified the flames lapping at her skin, yet still Cagalli did not make a single noise of protest.
“I tire of this charade.”
Forcefully, Cagalli twisted her own body, wrenching Charibert’s towards her when he did not react in time to release the handle of the whip. As he flew through the air, Cagalli tore her wrists free of their bindings just in time to grab hold of Charibert’s neck midair and began to squeeze.
With the rest of her body, Cagalli shook the rest of the whip off herself, only to catch the handle with her free hand and dexterously maneuver the rope around Charibert’s neck. His eyes widened in terror as he realized Cagalli’s intentions, yet the Au Ra offered no mercy, and continued to tighten her grip.
Charibert thrashed fruitlessly in Cagalli’s grasp. She responded by violently slamming the Elezen into the floor and digging her knee into his ribs, crushing his lungs as though her ministrations to his neck were insufficient.
Desperate, Charibert manifested a beam of blinding white aether in his hand and thrust it through Cagalli’s abdomen, filling the arena with the distinct sound of a shattering shield. Cagalli looked down to find a perfectly-carved hole piercing her torso, twinkling at the edges with familiar primal aether.
Even Cagalli recognized the suppressed memory buried within Aymeric’s mind that had birthed this particular development.
Cagalli let go of Charibert’s still-flaming whip to hover her hand over the new wound. Over the fierce crackle of the flames, Aymeric could swear he heard her chuckle.
“After everything that’s happened, you think this will hurt me?”
Aymeric awoke to the sound of Charibert’s neck snapping.
#ffxiv#ffxivwrite#ffxivwrite2022#OC: Cagalli Athha#aymeric de borel#feo ul#ser charibert#cw: torture#cw: ptsd#cw: violence#cw: injury#cw: nightmare#cw: strangulation#cw: death
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When it's the next day, & you remember Tiffanie warned Fujimaru that he would lose Sakura if he doesn't switch his act up.
And like usual, Tiff was right, & in the best way.
#(suck it fuji)#(in the words of ser Charibert)#(*points at Fuji* FILTHY RAT. YOU DISGUST ME)#dash commentary [i see you talkin' shit]#ooc [chaos speaks]
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Been doing a lot of limited color palette pieces as of late!
#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#alphinaud leveilleur#ffxiv alphinaud#ffxiv alisaie#alisae leveilleur#estinien wyrmblood#estinien varlineau#charibert de leusignac#ser zephirin#zephirin de valhourdin#limited color palette
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Fellow Genshin trash: could you imagine Aymeric meeting Wriothesley
#ffxiv#ser aymeric de borel#ser aymeric#genshin impact#wriothesley#neuvillette destroying Charibert in the distance
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Odeline Backstory
CW for sexual abuse towards a minor
Odeline's parents were of the Qerel tribe, exiled for becoming "Taken," and wandered the land for a place they could continue their nomadic tradition, while also avoiding the Garlean Empire. They thus found themselves on the plains of Coerthas, alongside others such as Sidurgu's family...... They were, of course, slaughtered by Ishgardians believing them to be Dravanian, though Ser Ompagne saved Sid and Odeline. Sidurgu, then 11, decided to become Ompagne's disciple. Odeline, only 8, declined the knight's invitation, fearful of what walking the path of a Dark Knight might mean (also. she was 8. what the fuck.)
Ompagne found an orphanage on the outskirts of Coerthas that would take her in despite being Au Ra, though little did he know that her hell started then. Humiliated daily, forced to do hard manual labor, and neglected, this was Odeline's life at the orphanage. Many a time did she seek to run away, only to find herself unsuited to surviving the elements by her lonesome, only to return and be punished horrifically for her actions.
This changed one day when Odeline was 14, when a well off Ishgardian priest sought to adopt her. She was transported from a life of hardship and humiliation to a cushy life in Foundation. He veils her to protect her from unwanted eyes in Ishgard. Upon his recommendation, she begins to study at Saint Endalim's Scholasticate. Unbeknownst to her, in reality, her "savior" is a pervert with a hardon for "correcting" a "dravanian" to be moral and pure and then taking that "dravanian" to bed with him. As she, unfortunately, soon finds out.
She lives like this for 5 long years, taught that being good and obedient will save her from the pain she suffered in her past, all while praying every night for the Fury to punish her "father" for his transgressions........ and every day he is not punished, starting to believe that this is what she deserves as it is the Fury's apparent will. Until, one day, her "father" is persecuted for being a heretic. He and his wife (yes, that bitch was married - he sent her for schooling also as plausible deniability about his intentions for her) are executed as heretics by First Inquisitor Charibert........ though Odeline does not know this at the time. This accusation seemingly coming out of the blue make her believe that Halone really does have a plan. Her trial - not being blood related to the heretic in question - 1. outs her as an Au Ra to the society at large and 2. is a major ordeal for Ishgardian law because it's kind has never been seen before. It's like. A Whole Thing. It cumulates in a trial by combat with Odeline winning with her prodigious magics (also Hydaelyn's favorite child, warrior of light, etcetc)
However, her schooling at the Scholasticate is put into question as her recommendation was written by a heretic....... and besides, she has no money to continue her schooling. Haumeric, a friend of her "father's" as he knew him as a fellow clergyman, and believing his designation as heretic as well as his execution to be an unjustified act of violence by the malevolent Charibert, takes pity on his "daughter," Odeline, and offers to complete her schooling on his recommendation and his coin. She takes his offer and graduates to become an acolyte.
She showed significant potential as an astrologian in her schooling, and so puts up with Jannequard and practices "heretical" astrology alongside traditional Ishgardian astrology in order to "get in good" with one of House Durendaire, constantly fearing for her own persecution should she be anything less than the perfect church Sister.
Even though the time has long since passed for Ishgardians to slaughter Au Ra indiscriminately, her heritage means that Ishgard kiiiiiiiiiiinda wants her dead, frequently ordering her into dangerous places to "chart the stars" hoping she will not come back.
Charibert also wants to persecute her soooooooooooooooooooo badly. She's "the one that got away." His white whale so to speak.
Anyway basically the tl;dr is:
birth-8 traveling with her parents to find a place where they won't be killed
8-14 living in hell orphanage
14-19 hell existence living a "cushy" life but sexually and emotionally (and sometimes physically, if she acted out) abused by her "father"
19-23 finally able to live a "free" life though she's shackled by the trauma of her past and hellbent on 1. being the goodest good church girl she can be bc surely that will ensure her continued survival and 2. if 1. does not work, getting in the good graces of whatever clergy/noble she can will surely save her in that event
arr start
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The Flowers of Fate - Part 1: The Wheel Turns
There be Heavensward spoilers ahead.
tw: Death
The sun glowed a vibrant orange as it was setting. Iris was tired from her fight with Ser Charibert. However there wasn’t any time to waste. They needed to stop Thordan with any means possible.
“Fall back!” Ser Zephirin called out to his comrade. Despite his injuries, Ser Charibert limped away as quickly as he could. With the help of Alphinaud and Hauchefant, Iris was able to get back on her feet. The three gave chase to the two knights. They made it through the spire. Only to be greeted by an air dock. And there he was waiting for the airship overhead.
This all seemed familiar to Iris but she couldn’t place her finger on it. It felt like those heroic tales you would have read as a child. Where the hero makes it to the big bad guy for their final conflict. Is this truly how it all ends? A voice called from behind her, breaking her thoughts. “Father,Please.” it was Ser Aymeric, limbing, surely from the torture that Thordan and the Heavensward gave him.
Estinien and Lucia were not too far behind. “For a mercy, we were not too late.” the gruff voice of Estinien directed his words to Iris.
She nodded at him. “And for that, we shall be thankful.”
“Why must you do this, Father?! Nidhogg is Fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path–to start anew!” Aymeric shouted at Thordan, hoping that his words could get through to him.
“And tear down the very pillars of society–our history, our values–everything we have built over a thousand years?” Thordan sighed “A fool to the last.” He continued onward the airship. Knowing that if they didn’t act then he would get what he wanted. Hauchefant knew what Iris was thinking. The two sprang into action.
Hauchefant took off first with her following him. They were focused on Thordan. They didn’t notice there was a knight up upon the spires behind them. The knight produced a spear of light. It flew through the sky. At the blink of an eye it pierced Iris through the chest. She collapsed to the floor, blood spilling out.
Her sight was dimming. She was barely making out what the others were saying. She felt a bit of warmth. Perhaps Alphinaud was trying to heal the wound. She knows that it won’t do anything. She knows that she isn’t long for this world.
Iris tried looking for Hauchefant. It was faint, but she felt something holding her hand. She looked over. Her breaths were getting heavier. She was able to make out his expression of horror. “I’m sorry Hauchefant, I couldn’t be the hero that everyone needed.” Her hand goes limp in his. She closed her eyes once more, never to open them again as she drew her final breath. Her soul had returned to the aether sea.
The others would join her not too long after her. Ysayle was first. The group continued to pursue Thordan and the knights twelve. While they were giving chase, the Empire also were following them. She gave them enough time to get into Azys Lla by sacrificing herself as Shiva. Then it was Hauchefant, who fell when confronting King Thordan and the Knights of the Round. With his death no one could stop what Thordan was going to do to the dragons.
With all that happened, Aymeric and Lucia were charged with treason against them and sentenced to death in the court of Ishgard. It was made public to warn the rest of Ishgard what would happen if the citizenry opposed their new king.
Estinien, though he tried his best to resist, turned to Nidhogg from the influence of the eye. It was his desire for revenge after Hauchefant’s death that transformed him. His end was similar to the end of all dragon-kind in Dravania. As for Alphinaud, the last that any of them knew was in hiding from the king of Ishgard.
#oc: iris opranta#ffxiv#The Flowers of Fate#ffxiv heavensward#heavensward#heavensward spoilers#That WIP Wednesday gave me the power to finish this part
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Haurchefant in the Vault ;×;
Send A Muse & A Dungeon Name For A Peek At Their Experience
Oh, how he wished that such exhilarating occurrences did not require such dire circumstances. Haurchefant never failed to enjoy himself when permitted to share the field with the Warrior of Light. His joy would never exceed his dedication to whatever duty was thrust upon him, but he could not deny the rush that always followed.
And to think that today they rushed the hallowed corridors of the Vault itself! A part of him may have enjoyed that part a little too much.
He knew not of what forbidden magicks permitted the Heavensward Knights to transform into the larger-than-life avatars they did, but assumed the answers would be discovered soon. For now their mission was the pursuit of Archbishop Thordan and rescue of the Lord Commander.
Knights, clergymen, automaton machines -- all stood against them, and all would inevitably fall. To watch the Warrior of Light on the battlefield was to view a form of art that Haurchefant had long since come to greatly admire, but it was their warming to his father and brothers that gave him the most joy.
Perhaps when all of this was over, his dear friend would not mind becoming a sort of bridge between them. Not even Artoirel could deny their contributions to the Holy See's future now -- and Lord Aymeric's allegiance to peace for Ishgard was inspiring as well.
He could almost see it now: a better Ishgard, a better Coerthas for all. It was all taking shape before him, with the charge led by the Warrior of Light and the Scions at their side. The greatest joy to him was simply be here to witness it.
Ser Charibert cursed them as he fell back at Ser Zephirin's command, and so of course they gave chase. There was nowhere else for the Archbishop to flee.
They had him.
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FFXIV Write '23, Day 1: Envoy
CW: Language.
"Ser Charibert. Father Dumond. How unexpected of you to visit, and at such a late hour. Will you be coming in for tea? I'm afraid that it might take a little while to boil water - we lost our housemaid not two weeks ago. Thought she would be better off with the Fortemps, she did. As if we don't have enough to pay her well!"
The cracked wooden doors of Grandwell, House Treleaux's manse in the Crozier, were wide open, letting in the "damnable cold" the Lady Sabbatine was never fond of. She - her Ladyship, a Duskwright of minor importance - was wrapped up in her favorite purple and gold evening gown, the clothes looking as faded as their wearer. Her snow white hair was a mess, not done up in buns or a weave, like it would've been if there was time to prepare for guests. She thought to portray the role of the matriarch of her House, aloof and unafraid of her very important guests, but the Ishgardian cold knew her better. They knew her better.
The cold crawled up her arms with ravenous glee, feasting, sending her into shivers. It didn't matter that her favorite blanket was wrapped tight and snug against her bodice, her body well sculpted after years of training in the Knighthood. "Won't you come in?" she said, with a touch of urgency in her voice. It wasn't like the Temple Knights, much less a man of the cloth, to stay in the doorway thus. But they always did look at her with more than a modicum of loathing. She was a thief who stole from the shadows of Gridania to make her fortune, after all. A woman who reported directly to the Consortiums in Ul'dah. Everyone in polite society knew that.
Charibert spoke next. The old elf at his side, dressed in simple blue robes tied up with a white cord, nodded occasionally and held the holy symbol of Halone in front of his wrinkled, cracked lips. It swung in the evening wind, spinning like a bird on the gold chain it was suspended on.
"Lady Sabbatine Treleaux, of the House Treleaux, daughter of the late Ser Armone Treleaux," he said, every word pulsing with the rotten fires of faith that burned in his chest. "Pray forgive our visit. It is late, as you have observed so astutely. We are on rather important business, you understand. Concerns sent down from the Holy See, directing us to your place of residence. These urgent matters, I'm afraid, make it that there is no time for you to entertain us." Dumond nodded again, as Charibert continued. "We will, however, come in, by your invitation. It would be rude to refuse a woman of grace, as yourself."
Dumond scurried past Lady Sabbatine, as cockroaches do when they find a warm hearth to swarm in. His eyes seemed fit to pop out of his head and roll around on Grandwell's treasures and antiques, fewer though they were in recent years. Such a toad of a man!
But clever Wards knew their way around toads - humanoid or not - so as to overhear the Lady of the house in a tense meeting with Temple Knights. A Ward, such as the "hyur" Minuet Chocolate du Treleaux, who, despite their youthful appearance, had experienced much since their exodus from the faraway land of Othard. She was so clever as to sneak out of her bed chambers, undetected by any of Treleaux's remaining servants, and press herself right up against a wall that bordered the living room, the wall hollow enough to catch most of the conversation herself.
It wasn't good. Charibert was accusing her Ladyship of harboring a dragonspawn, in addition to being a heretic herself, a Dark Knight. A "Grey-eared witch, with a scaled devil suckling from her teat, has no place in the good city of Ishgard," he said. Someone must have seen Minuet without the shawl she kept over her ears - a way to keep herself hidden from the eyes of the inquisitors. But, it was more than just the accusations of heresy, wasn't it?
"You will be brought to trial, where you will be tried for charges of heresy, and put to death if found guilty, which, I assure you, you will be. You have until the first light of tomorrow morn to settle your business and say your goodbyes. Your heresy will be burnt out of you, my Lady, by all means necessary."
The toad spoke up for the first time. "A-Additionally, House Treleaux is dissolved, as such horrendous witchcraft cannot, will not be tolerated! N-no! H-House Dzmael will be the rightful owner and executor of all their, your, assets. Lady Sabbatine," he croaked. "Vile witch. I s-shall take great delight in seeing your hellspawn burn before Halone's radiant gaze. Mm. Yes."
-----
As soon as Charibert and Dumond left, Lady Sabbatine knew that her candle was nearly out. If Lady Sabbatine was to die - no. She would go out reminding Ishgard of the rot deep inside its heart, sword in hands. Her kingdom had lost its need for gallant knights long ago.
Lady Sabbatine found her ward, her lost lamb in the woods, sobbing in the hallway. The poor girl was slumped against the wall, hand up against the cracking paint in an attempt to steady herself. Not so long ago, her Minuet was ambushed by bandits in the snows near Dragonhead. She would have died a frozen wretch, if not for a knight of Onyx Shade who happened to be riding nearby, and decided to teach her the ways of honorable combat. How much like a storybook...
With armored glove, Sabbatine lifted the girl's chin up. "A squire should not despair," she said with eerie calm, "even when the blade is closest to one's neck. For what is your sword to do, but parry and give yourself room to fight back?"
Minuet sniffled, and reached out to hug her Lady, her adopted mother. It was a warm embrace, in the midst of looming tragedy. "Don't go," she whispered. "We could run away together, couldn't we? Go somewhere, like Limsa, or places East."
"And what would that solve, Minuet? Nothing. All it would do is prove that the Church is right, that we are monsters worthy only of burning in the hellsfire. Monsters who flee at the mention of Halone's grace." Lady Sabbatine brushed tears away from Minuet's eyes. "Cry all you need, and when you're done, Modeste will have a gift for you, from me. But you can't open it until you're ready. Promise?"
Minuet gave a muffled "Yes."
"Good. Then I have needs to attend to, my dear. Twelve be good to you."
-----
If everything went according to plan, Minuet should be far from Ishgard by the break of morn - maybe already on the island if the merchant Sabbatine hired was fast enough. In her packs would be a purse of gil, a fresh change of clothes, and a letter of introduction to the acting guildmaster of the Arcanist's Guild, Thubyrgeim Guldweitzwyn. The guildmaster was to call Minuet by her chosen name, Minti Chocolate, and teach her ward in the ways of summoning. It would have to be enough for her to start anew, away from Ishgardian eyes. Maybe, just maybe, she would never find the crystal in which her Lady's memories were kept. Maybe it would just be a pretty gem in her possession.
Lady Sabbatine, for her part, had a trial to attend. She would give Ser Charibert a rousing defense.
#final fantasy xiv#final fantasy 14#final fantasy oc#ffxiv#minti wol#minti chocolate#heavensward#ffxivwrite2023
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I told no-one of my encounter with Ser Charibert. Was it fear or was it so that I did not burden others? If anyone had missed my presence that night or knew that I had come in late. They said nothing. Talk however, had turned to my upcoming departure to the Sea of clouds with Emmanellain.
I was conflicted between my encounter with the Heavensward and my night with Aymeric, both holding equal implications of consequences in my mind.
As if knowing I needed distraction, that evening Artoirel showed me a new song he had acquired. A beautiful duet, melancholy in words but full of heart. We sang together, like we had often unaware of our audience below.
When our song ended we heard a soft clap, turning we looked down over the balcony to see you stood with the Lord Commander. To say we were surprised was obvious, I didn't expect to see Aymeric again so soon.
We came down to speak properly and address the Lord Commander. He had come officially to check on me after my encounter with Ser Charibert.
#FFXIV#Final Fantasy XIV#FFXIV Screenshots#ffxiv screenies#ffxiv gpose#final fantasy gpose#ffxiv hw#ffxiv hw retelling#ffxiv aura#wolmeric#ffxiv aymeric#aymeric de borel#warrior of light
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[3.0] Unpleasant ball, heart to heart conversations... many events Stellaris and Estinien had to endure, yet that night would be quite long, and the chase was just starting...
[...] By instinct, Estinien grabbed Stellaris to carry her in his arms and jumped high to go up the tile roofs. Two floors above ground, observing carefully.
Some seconds after, Damien, Ser Zephirin and Ser Charibert went out. Stellaris prayed they didn't consider gazing above them.
-The princess and the smelly bloody knight escaped. None of them are nearby. -Charibert looked around.
-You assured to the Archbishop this ball would award a succesful capture. -Zephirin remarked. -Lord Damien, you persevered about the lady not being a grave issue.
-They could not go that far. If you look for them inmediately, you will probably find them soon. Do as you please with the Azure Dragoon when you capture them, but I want my dear niece unharmed. -Damien commanded. -Is it clear?
Once Damien left, the two knights were alone. Then, each of them parted ways to inspect the area.
-Capture me? -Stellaris whispered, gulping. [...]
#my artwork#ff14#final fantasy xiv#ffxiv#final fantasy#estillaris#stellaris mikail#estinien varlineau#estinien wyrmblood#wolstinien#heavensward#heavens ward#zephirin de valhourdin#charibert#damien forestier
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heavensward- encounter
(a year and a half before Riven's arrival)
CW: Illness, more specifically a city-wide epidemic. I also riffed slightly off Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic book 4, Briar's Book, which is a heavy influence on Mathye's conjury.
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For a mercy, the plague currently raging in Ishgard was affecting all levels of society. Otherwise if it had just been in the Brume alone, Mathye knew Charibert would have already been setting the afflicted's homes to the torch. The illness itself wasn't fatal, save for one major problem. The fever that started after the pox cleared was magic-resistant. That had to be fought with poultice and and potion.
Or in Mathye's case-dragonfire. For some unknown reason Hrist's magics could break the infection. And while she and him were willing to scorch the disease from their charges, they had to be careful. Charibert and his minions prowled the sick-houses, waiting for any opportunity to send them up in 'cleansing flame'. And while the Inquistion wanted to question him about the handful of months he'd spent in the Vault, Mathye knew he had some level of protection in being Ishgard's first white mage in some time, plus being a master healer in the Temple Knight infirmary, assigned to the Knights Dragoon. If he couldn't use what power he had to aid those who needed it, then what good was he?
So Mathye had taken a stand, along with getting into a fight or two. He'd shamed several wavering healers and priests into doing their duties, and the misbegotten flames of the Inqusition were now staying away from the Brume sick-houses. And if the poor were recovering faster than their 'betters', well, Halone's eyes were fixed on the most vunerable of her children. That was Mathye's story, and he was sticking to it.
But Fury be good, he wanted to kill Charibert. Wipe him and his ilk from the face of the earth. It said something when he- an apostate!-was more faithful to the Fury than one of the Heavens fucking Ward! Or was it that he was more open minded?
Mathye didn't know.
Or maybe it's because you've seen the rot and swore to have no part of it...
"You've been the one making the medicine here?" Jolted from his dark musings -- he hadn't eaten since breakfast, Mathye glanced at the speaker. Charibert had decided to suddenly pop in, with Haumeric accompanying him. More than likely the other priest of the Ward had also taken offence to the Grand Inquisitor's leanings and had shown up to offer support... if not tact approval of Mathye's stance.
"I volunteered to make this particular batch, aye." Making the feverbreak potion was the best way to add in his dragonfire, and thankfully it didn't require much. But with Charibert and Haumeric watching, Hrist had gone dead silent in his mind. Not that Mathye minded. He was extremely keen on staying clear of Charibert's dungeons. And keeping his baby brother safe...
"Every time you visit a sick-house, the number of patients who break the fever and recover successfully rises." Haumeric continued. His eyes widened slightly as Mathye withdrew a butcher's knife from a wooden block. Charibert remained unruffled.
"Don't know anything about that." Mathye lied, reaching for a clump of chamoille plants with the other hand. With a single chop, he cleaved the flowers from their stems.
"There are many singing your praises." Haumeric was not giving up.
"You mean more like cursing me." Mathye countered. Keep your hands busy. Focus on the plants. He chopped off another bunch of chamoille flowers. Evading or at least muddling a Halonic truth spell required effort.
"In this case, the praises are outweighing the curses. Though for you, that seems to be the norm." Charibert said silkily.
"Is there any reason why you've decided to darken my doorstep, Hot Lips?" Mathye wondered aloud. He selected a Gil Bun to chop next, bowing his head just as Haurmeric choked back a sudden bark of laughter. Charibert's eyes flashed in annoyance.
"As Ser Haurmeric stated, the number of patients who recover when you're present is high. There are... questions."
"Are they about my healing-practice or about the fact that it's the poor that are recovering so quickly?" Mathye countered, lifting his head. "If it's the latter, just imagine how upset the commonfolk will be that the Vault would have preferred them to die in comparison to the noble born-"
"Healer Bishop." Mathye snapped his mouth shut and picked up another mushroom. He could feel Haumeric glaring at him.
"The Archbishop cares for all of Halone's children. Poor and nobleborn." Now the glare was turned to Charibert. "His Emenience would like as minimal loss of life as possible. Which is why the sick-houses were approved and permission to use any means necessary to save the ill."
"You add magic into the feverbreak potion." Charibert ignored Haurmeric, eyes fixed on Mathye. The white mage fell his stomach lurch. However he forced himself to look up and cooly met the High Inquistitor's gaze.
"I do."
"The fever can't be broken by magic." Haurmeric stated, furrowing his brow.
"You're right. What I do doesn't last long, and fades the moment the potion starts to brew." Mathye picked up a handful of the chamomile heads. The petals on some were drooping, while others looked completely whithered. Then suddenly the flower heads seemed to spring back to life, white petals practically glowing around their bright yellow centers. Mathye moved the handful of flowers over to a pot, dropping them inside.
"A revitization spell?"
"We're not so lucky to get fresh herbs and the sort down here." Mathye replied. "Plants hold memories just like man. I just give a little coax for them to remember life, to renew their power." Then mischievously, he added; "A priestess of Nophica showed me this while I was in training. I figure her and Halone would be willing to work together in this fight. Nophica to bless the plant life, and the Fury to grant a body the strength to endure." Oh wow. Charibert had actually physically twitched. Haumeric looked a little worried.
"You are not...practicing hedgewitchery, are you, Healer Bishop?" He ventured. Mathye narrowed his eyes.
"The last time I checked, I wasn't the only one doing such a thing." He began. "Our builders still burn copies of their plans to Byregot for His favor, our martialists blood-pledge to the Destroyer, doubly so since He is Halone's father, and we're not going to discuss all the love-charms made from the snow by Memphina's godstone, she lives in Halone's palace! And I'm certain you don't want to discuss the amount of childless couples who slip away to Gridana in the spring to celebrate the rites of Nophica, and find themselves blessed with babes nine months later. Nobody complains about hedgewitchery then, so why complain now? If a bit of it's helping my charges here, and Halone hasn't expressed disapproval, then I see no problems."
"I see why you're permamently such a low rank in the Church, Bishop. Such a...provencial mindset." Charibert sniped. He tilted his head.
"Ah but by the way, how is your half-brother doing?" Rage-and fear--screamed to life inside Mathye, and he could feel Hrist spasm. It took everything he possessed to not react, to keep his voice level, to shrug casually.
"I wouldn't know. I think he's on out on a heretic hunt. There was a dragon that your Inquisitors were having problems with, wasn't there? I'm surprised you're not out there with your men." A barb for a barb, and Mathye took some satisfaction on seeing Charibert glower. Haumeric glanced between the two men.
"Gentlemen. I see that there's no problems here." He said firmly. "Healer Bishop, I would advise that you keep your...dabbling to yourself. While your points are valid, there are many of your betters that are not as... open-minded as you are. Brother Charibert, there's nothing problematic here, unless we count Healer Bishop's overall attitude as a heresy."
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FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 8
Shed - Dravanian AU, direct sequel to Barbarous
“There’s really no need-” Haurchefant’s tail lifted from Hero’s hands as the Dravanian protested. “I wouldn’t make you deal with my scales, it must seem unsightly to you.”
The viera rolled his eyes softly, “Haurchefant I was adopted by Dravanians. I grew up here in Ishgard. I have like a dozen siblings who are of all different ages and have all gone through molting before- I’ve helped some of them with it even.” He snorted, “honestly, acting like I’ve never touched dead scales before.”
“Well it’s a sensitive topic to some. I didn’t want to turn you off, I wanted tonight to be special. You’ve been gone for so long, my dulcet. Tonight was supposed to be supper and spoiling you and taking you back to my nest to try to have a clutch of my own with you.”
“Well you can still do all those things, I’m here until Aymeric’s guard finishes assessing if Gridania wants war or if the Primal attack was an accident.” It could have just been an accident, it’s not like Nophica herself had shown up to try to turn him into a bloody tree or some shite. Whatever he’d fought didn’t feel like a proper primal either, it was too- dead? No, it was alive, but it felt empty. Like all the energy animating it was somehow inert.
Papalymo mentioned something about pre-Gridanian history, the war of the magi, and was currently researching the Gelmorran and Amdapori ruins for answers. Apparently the primal-not-primal had looked similar to depictions of the stone guardians from the war, but if Gridania was worried about offending the Elementals, that should be the last thing they resorted to. Right? The Flood had traumatized the forest spirits so badly that they refused to allow all but a select few to use white magic in the first place.
So whoever animated that statue was risking retribution from the Elementals. Which would explain why they were agitated and panicked when Hero showed up in the grove in the first place. Right now the only answer he could come up with was someone had a Paragon guiding them, puppeting their moves from the shadows, and Kan-E-Senna thought it was the dragons threatening her people and not the Ascians.
Hero’s mind was working so quickly to try to piece together the puzzle that he barely noticed his hands moving at all. Haurchefant had long melted under the fingers gently massaging lotions and oils into his tail and back to loosen and soften the dead scales to make them easier to remove. He was practically purring his adoration for the massage, and Hero wasn’t hearing a single word of praise.
It wasn’t until Haurchefant flipped over to grab him by the wrist that Hero even realized he’d already finished the job. “Dearheart, are you alright? You’ve been silent this whole time.”
“Sorry, luv.” Hero smiled weakly at him to hide the worry bubbling in his breast. “I was just thinking about work.”
“Thinking about the looming specter of war more like.” The taller man huffed a bit, “You started using the brush over an area you’d already gotten. I will admit, it is impressive what you’re capable of without thinking about it though. My back feels better than it has in ages.” He glanced at the small pile of dead scales and skin beside Hero with a grimace. “I still wish you hadn’t had to deal with it on my behalf.”
Hero shook his head and smiled at the other, “I grew up here, if you think my stomach is so weak I can’t help you with some basic grooming you’re out of your mind. Remember, a dozen siblings? Why do you think I learned how to be so gentle with it? I’d help my fathers with the younger ones, papa taught me how to do it so they wouldn’t cry about how much it hurt. Father’s a little more on the side of speed over comfort but you know how he can be.”
“Ser Charibert isn't exactly the man I would think of when I was considering comforts beyond tea and a warm fire. No offense but your parents are bloody terrifying on a good day, it’s a wonder you’re so sweet and gentle.” He was flinching as he spoke, only to smile a bit when Hero found himself laughing.
“You’re their future son in-law, of course they’re terrifying to you. They’re trying to make sure you’ll treat me right, I am their most fragile child after all.” Not that either of his parents would call him that to his face. His cousin Grinnaux had though.
Once.
Hero still had one of Grinn’s teeth on a necklace to remind his cousin why he wasn’t as fragile or soft as he looked. Like any Dzemael, Grinn seemed to respect Hero more for having the balls to lay him flat on his arse instead of chickening out or backing down. “Alright, help me clean this mess up and we can get dinner. Maybe one of those hand-pies they sell in the market?”
“I was thinking something a little more sit-down and classy. Hopefully they’ll let us in the door, usually only proper house members dine there and-” Hero put a hand to Haurchefant’s chest and smiled at him.
“If they don’t, I will be just as happy to eat a hand-pie and lean against you while you wrap your wing around me. I don’t care about the expense, I care about spending time with you.”
“Of course.” Haurchefant leaned down to take the hand from his chest, still covered in lotion and oils, and kissed the top of it regardless. “Of course, my dulcet. As you wish.”
#ffxiv fanfiction#ffxivwrite2023#Dravanian AU#Dravanian Ishgard AU#Dragonsong war never happened#wol x haurchefant
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