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nights-at-crystarium · 1 year

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Fragments - episodes 12-14 author notes

Hi hello and welcome to yet another ramble about Fragments C: I’m doing these regularly because there’s so much I wanna say about my idiots, and I like looking back and appreciating the work I’ve done.

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

I haven’t commented on any of the ShB episodes yet, so here we go. Chapter 2 is estimated to last for over a year real-time, it correlates to the msq events up to Amity. The name honestly I’m not too proud of, I didn’t wanna spend too much brain juice on it :’> But the cover.....

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning!

- Investigating each other. They’ve become completely new people since ARR.

- Despite what he thinks of himself, our lord and savior Crystal Exarch has the ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ grandeur ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆.

- Vivi’s self-image is similar, he doesn’t see himself as anything grand no it’s not a height joke but Exarch rapidly grows in his eyes as he learns about him.

- He sports an outfit I once doodled and found cute, I’m just being cheeky about his newfound obsession.

- He also appears fragile to Exarch, who’s literally seen a world where he died being this young. Exarch wants to protect him, to say the least.

- Vivi’s perceived helplessness and lack of agency in ShB, although it’s nothing he hasn’t already been through in his other WoL misadventures.

- The Light, of course the wicked white surrounding them.

Episode 12 I’m proud of writing-wise, but not art-wise. Turns out the Ocular is a bigger bitch to draw/paint than I’d anticipated, and, although I’ve mostly figured it out by now (having just released episode 16 for patrons), the colors and light in the episode 12 will forever stick out like a sore thumb to me, probably until I find the time to redraw it. Same goes for the Scions, learning to draw a whole bunch of new characters over a week (roughly, an episode takes 7~14 days to complete), well, I should’ve taken a bigger break and practiced some more.

I’d even apply the ugly word “crunch” to this episode. But ah, the best page wasn’t crunched, hell started breaking loose a bit later. Yeah I don’t work in order, usually I do the most important frames first.

A bit of a sidetrack: even though I sometimes find myself wanting for more time between episodes, I don’t think I can afford making the releases even more sparse, current 2-week cycle ensures that this story WILL reach its finale in some distant 2028 if not later, I’m not kidding, it might take even longer and I’ve only been working on the script for a year. The broad strokes are complete, but I indulge in adding more sweet nonsense here and there. Or sometimes a raw af dialogue pops up in my head and MUST be included in some chapter. In other words, help, this behemoth keeps growing.

Personally I’m loyal to my fandoms, and not in a rush to finish the comic, but my mmo experience bangs on that nothing lasts forever: I don’t know where the xiv community would be in 5+ years from now, and I need A LOT of people supporting me, allowing me to work on this full time. So I’d rather keep a steady pace while it’s still possible.

As I get more xp in painting backgrounds and learn all the ShB character designs, it should become easier for me. Currently I’m fumbling through a new field, so please bear with me :’D

Back to the main topic: I came up with and scrapped at least 2 ideas of the transition between ARR and ShB, the timeskip was always planned, but Vivi needed some more introduction still. Current iteration of Exarch “interviewing” the Scions seems the most fun and creative to me.

Also, tea parties with Urianger and Feo Ul :> They’re his only two friends in my hc, Urianger he purposely revealed himself to, and Feo Ul, merely being a soul in a sparkly shell, can see Exarch’s soul as well, hoods are useless. All while they’re somewhat reliable, truly the paragon of pixies who wouldn’t randomly spill his secrets (probably).

Vivi’s a mirror. Every single one of us is, to some degree. We react and adapt to the way the others treat us, and so does Vivi. Unintentionally, of course. It’s a natural “passive trait”. All the Scions except Urianger (for the same reason he managed to trick the pixies, he’s just a special smartass) see their reflections in Vivi, direct or warped.

Y’shtola is basically this:

Can’t promise equal amounts of screentime for all the Scions, but the twins and Thancred are the closest to Vivi, you’ll definitely see more of them.

He’s 26 now, which is still rather young by the elezen standards, and he’s way too tired (tm) probably like most WoLs at this point in time.

Maybe not of life itself, but he’s definitely sick of the Source and all its inhabitants. For all he cares, this place can go to hells.

His state just so happens to be perfect for the isekai love story that awaits him. How did he get there? I know, you’ll have to stick around until I deem it appropriate to drop some flashback episodes. I’m leery of loredumping too early on: firstly, you current readers will get more invested over time, therefore have more fun learning about him at a later point; secondly, I’m personally not a fan of tragic backstories right in yo face, before the main story gets a chance to breathe. And, mind you, Vivi’s past isn’t even THAT tragic, just, well.. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes \o/

In this episode I wanted to show his practical approach to things. He may possess an Echo, Blessing, soul stone and whatnot else, but gotta stick a good ol’ dagger in a boot just in case. He’s a doubter, just a tiny bit paranoid.

Also he has The Chair (tm) where he dumps clothes on. His room in the Rising Stones looks vague for now because we indeed don’t return there for years in real time, I don’t need to spend my energy on designing this room in detail just yet.

Most items don’t hold any special meaning, he simply prepares for a journey into the unknown. Well, there’s the journal he dumps his cringy thoughts in, and doodles sometimes. The trinket he holds here is a Princess Ai easter egg:

I talked about Vivi’s character influences and inspirations here if you haven’t seen yet C:

Exarch’s glorious meltdown does a good job averting eyes from Feo Ul being right there in the beginning of the episode 14, but yeah they’re present not for no reason :>

Mentally he’s still in the msq cutscene.

Gotta mention that there’s no amnesia, insanity, or other sad brain fuckery ever in this comic. Vivi’s head’s made of dense and sturdy stuff x’D

Just a meme I made because I had to :>

There isn’t much Deep Meaning in this episode, the visuals speak for themselves, and I’m DAMN PROUD of them.

We don’t see Exarch in this moment ingame, so I took my creative liberty to illustrate the range of emotions he goes through in like 5 minutes before finally rushing out to meet his hero in person, forgetting that he can teleport at will (yet another hc of mine) anywhere in the Tower’s vicinity, and doing so on foot.

That’s it for now, thank you for reading this and enjoying Fragments C:

#ffxiv #shb spoilers #ffxiv: fragments #fragment ii: new world old friend #fragments talk #*wheezes* that's a lotta tags #vivien rell #crystal exarch #g'raha tia #wol x g'raha tia #wolgraha #own: next lvl

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azems-familiar · 2 months

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because i have apparently lost my mind: snippet from the Emet-Selch/Crystal Exarch oneshot i'm writing beneath the cut. WHAT am i doing with my life.

“Ah, Emet-Selch,” the Exarch says pleasantly, gaze never moving from his book. There is a streak of dark ink smeared across his right jaw and cheek, vanishing under the cowl - Emet-Selch has the urge to wipe it away, which he, for the moment, ruthlessly suppresses. Such an action would only be appropriate if he could maneuver the shock of it into drawing information from the man. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time? I’m afraid to inform you that the tea has long gone cold - you are later than I expected you to be. Were you held up by sin eaters, or some such?”

Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow, briefly thinking of the pot of tea he’d noticed - so it had not been forgotten but rather left alone in anticipation, had it? Interesting - and crosses the room to the computer display set into the far wall, tapping absently at the interface to adjust the heat in the room up by two degrees. Whether he’s redressed himself in his favored coat from his Garlean days or not, the Exarch still prefers far cooler temperatures than he does.

“I was working,” he says with a dismissive wave. As always, the Tower’s interface locks him out of any of its more intensive systems, but he dedicates a moment or two to attempting to circumvent the security systems anyway - they are enemies, after all, and should the Exarch grow lax then Emet-Selch, with the patience of an immortal, must be prepared to take advantage of it. “I do have a purpose here beyond studying your intriguing secrets, Exarch, though I understand it may pain you to acknowledge such.”

Things are progressing too slowly, with the Oracle of Light’s repeated rebirth and Eulmore’s war against the sin eaters, and Light is the power of stasis, of stillness and complacency and languishing indifference. A Rejoining requires not only the element to be ascendent in the shard to be swallowed, but for its incorporeal aether to naturally tend towards the alignment such element lies under as well - a rather arduous task. Thankfully the city’s current mayor is ill-inclined to be ousted by his unhappy citizenry, and more concerned by maintaining power than by actually making any marginal difference in the state of his world. Convincing him and his pregnant wife to allow Emet-Selch to bind a Lightwarden to the babe in her womb had been, in all honesty, far easier than expected.

Of course he could not attend tea with the Exarch in the armored robes his colleagues favor, either, which had necessitated a brief trip to the rift to amend. Perhaps if they ever formalized what time these little meetings take place - but that would ruin the game.

The Exarch hums, turning a page and tapping his pen against his lips, leaving another little dot of ink behind. Distracting, that. “How honored I am, then, that you should see fit to waste your time on me and my little hidden quirks.” There’s a wryness to his rich voice and one corner of his mouth curls ever-so-slightly upwards, a flicker of amusement betraying the words themselves.

Yes, Hythlodaeus would indeed have liked this man. A shame that for the Rejoinings to continue, for Emet-Selch to restore his home and his people and the family he loves so dearly, the Exarch cannot be allowed to continue.

(He will not think about whether Helios- whether Azem and Seleukos would have enjoyed his company or not. It is difficult enough to think of Hythlodaeus, whose soul yet resides in Zodiark and can be easily restored, who sacrificed himself willingly, no matter how deeply the act had torn Emet-Selch’s own heart out, or what scraps of it were left by then; the other two members of their family had left Amaurot behind in a whirlwind of fury after vicious arguments over Zodiark’s worthiness and capacity for salvation and the methods He required, and they had died out in the wilderness, lost because of Emet-Selch’s inability to convince them to see reason. Lost because of pointless vitriol. And while Zodiark’s power is great indeed, Emet-Selch remains uncertain of if He can resurrect souls He does not contain - a question he has never put towards Elidibus for fear of what it might reveal of his eternal slavery to sentiment.

And thus- thus it is too painful to think of them, especially in such a context. Besides, Azem had made himself quite clear in their final conversation-turned-altercation, and even if Emet-Selch can never not remember him as a lover, he can at least do his best to remember it only in the past.)

He shakes his head slightly to clear it and crosses the study to the desk, nudging the Exarch’s stack of books sideways to give him space to perch on its edge, glancing idly down at the paper. Spell notes indeed, as he had thought - and he recognizes the shape of them, though the method seems scarcely developed at all. “Fascinating,” he muses, trailing a finger over the seven-pointed star. “Now what use could a Sundered soul such as yours have for a summoning invocation? Do you intend to call sin eaters forth from the Empty and hasten your own demise, or do you truly believe your people could make use of this? You will find no method of reducing the aetheric strain to something their pale souls can handle.”

The Exarch goes still for the first time, gaze finally sliding off his research materials to rest on Emet-Selch’s hand and hip, propping him up. He’d sit more comfortably on it but for the fact that that would require disturbing too much of the Exarch’s work, and for everything he is, Emet-Selch was once a scholar of his own. Enemy or no, he respects the Exarch; he can offer him this much consideration.

“A bit of scholarship,” the man says after a moment. He sounds genuine, but there’s something about the tilt to his mouth that has Emet-Selch frowning slightly, trying to puzzle out what he could possibly be doing here. Of course he and Syrcus Tower traveled from the Source at some future point in time - or, more likely, were sent. Sent by someone with enough power to open a gate, which the Tower itself could if charged with aether…and yet who remains in the Source even as it is now who knows its systems so? And what could the Exarch possibly have to gain from a summoning spell? Azem was the only person in existence Emet-Selch would ever believe capable of summoning across the rift between worlds, and little enough of the First remains…

“One never knows when the Oracle of Light will be handy in a pinch, no? Ah- perhaps that’s a sore subject,” the Exarch continues, rousing Emet-Selch from his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes at the mention of Minfilia. What an irritation. “Perhaps I am making it to ensure my favorite teatime conversation partner does not miss out on his three-sugars two-spoonfuls-of-honey steaming cup of black tea. Hm?”

If they had not been performing this song and dance for near five decades, Emet-Selch would take some offense at the easy declaration of his tea preferences. As it is, he can’t quite stop himself from saying, “You would not be the first to think it amusing to forcibly reduce me to my constituent aether and pull me across the Lifestream for a meal.” Azem had had…a particular sense of humor. “Do you intend to flaunt your ill-gotten knowledge of my drinking habits without providing me so much as a drop of hospitality? And here I thought you civilized.”

#ramblings #ffxiv #my writing #emet selch #g'raha tia #do they even have a ship name???

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umbralaether · 1 year

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Eisha returned to the Crystarium later than expected, long hair tangled and a newfound darkness in her aqua eyes. The night sky had returned to Lakeland for the first time in a hundred years, but when she looked at the crystal tower against the glittering sky she did not feel joy— just the ache of loss similar to the very night those doors closed forever on the source.

She tried to put on an act of pride for her work, for her forced heroism, but feared the despair came off more than anticipated. She excused herself quickly, not leaving her room in the Pendants even for dinner. She could sense the Light Warden Philia within her own soul, itching against her limbs as it craved the company of others. She suspected were she not stronger, the first thing it would seek would be her friends.

As exhausted as she was, sleep did not come. Tossing and turning, she did not know why her mind would not settle. Perhaps it was the wrongness of the whole situation, how she and her friends were thrust into a different world only she could save. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that being in the Crystarium brought forth memories of a certain lover she had tightly hidden away into the recesses of her mind. G’raha Tia. How many nights had she dreamed of him, after he sought his destiny and left her behind without so much as a kiss goodbye? Fate was cruel, always taking more from her without explanation.

The Exarch had responded to her inquiries carefully, insisting there was no such person here on the First, and how could he be? This was a separate world from her own. Whatever remained of the Miqo’te on the source, she’d likely never know in her lifetime. She thinks back to their days together at Saint Coinach's, how their late nights spent reading and researching slowly crept into something more; lingering touches when showing each other sections of tomes, heated looks in the dim candlelight. One night he had brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, fingers gentle against her cheekbone and gaze intense as he leaned in slowly and kissed her. The rest of that night had been a blur of lips and teeth and hands searching and claiming and devouring. She'd encouraged every want of his, singing praise as he kissed up along her inner thighs…

The memory is distracting. Lustful images brand themselves in her brain, and she decides to succumb to how turned on she is if she were to ever fall asleep. As much as she longed for his touch now, she knew she'd never have it, but she could imagine.

She could pretend it was his hands sliding down her body, teasing her aching clit and sending waves of pleasure along her core, fingers slick and nimble as they worked their way into her.

She lets out a moan, "Mmm, oh G'raha."

——

He should have stopped watching the moment he saw she was safe in her room. He should not have been spying in the first place, this he knew, yet he could not help himself — she had retired early, before he had a chance to speak with her privately, and she had looked so… defeated. Surely it had nothing to do with his little white lie about his identity, she must've been tired from the days events. Regardless, he had to be sure she was okay either way.

He's about to let the image die down, when he hears her moan out a single phrase, oh G'raha…

Eyes widen in shock when he sees what she's doing. One hand under the covers, the other caressing her own breast; it's clear she was pleasuring herself with him on her mind. He can feel a blush begin to bloom across his face, the heat spreading downwards as he grew more aroused. Look away, you old fool.

He cannot look away, though, entranced by her every soft groan and gasp. How it was him she was thinking of, even after all this time and inevitable heartache. His thoughts become jumbled, part of him ashamed for invading such a private moment and the other now uncomfortably aroused. His cock throbs, straining against his robes, and he gives in—reaching under and stroking up and down. His entire body vibrates with anticipation, having avoided such needs for decades, and as he watches her writhe in her own building pleasure he increases his own pace. Oh Eisha, I have ached for you endlessly. Precum coats his hand as he continues, the slickness causing him to unconsciously thrust his hips towards his own hand as his orgasm nears. She's so beautiful, so kind and brave… and she's thinking of me.

Their moans reach a crescendo as they reach the peak together, and he feels almost weak in the knees with how hard he comes. His breathing is ragged as he rides out his first orgasm in years. Wicked white, I had almost forgotten this feeling.

Through the ocularum, he sees her breathing mirrors his.

——

It feels like floating in a warm pool, blissful and with a joy that has no rival. Her body relaxes bit by bit, the day's trials finally behind her, and she could almost feel him there. She could picture his sweet face now, how he would run his fingertips along her back soothingly -- as he always did when she could not sleep, and she'd listen to his heartbeat as she rested her head against his chest. Her afterglow is not long lasting, tasting bittersweet when the haze begins to clear and she opens her eyes. Fantasy is a nice place to be until the real world calls you back.

The bed is empty beside her, cold and foreboding. Alone once again. She lets out a shaky sigh. There was a reason she had tried to think little about him since that day, and she was paying the price for that now. Oh what I would do to see him again…

Eyes grow heavy, and she drifts off to sleep and dreams of nothing but him.

#fitting for sinday: two fools pining for each other in a ~special~ way #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #eisha pantera #shadowbringers spoilers #wolgraha #wol x graha #wol x graha tia #grahawol #wol x g'raha #wol x g'raha tia #wolexarch #my writing #g'raha tia #ffxiv writing

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pinkafropuff · 11 months

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mayhaps he was in love with her freedom. that would be plausible. it had been a hundred years and he was simply looking for something familiar from times of old- mayhaps she was too, by her interest in him. it could not be anything else. nothing more than longing to return to nostalgic days, when things may not have been simple, but they were not so hard. so complicated and unruly. there was not enough time for that. for those things that could have been possible before, but were not now. things that were left behind.

still, why did she look at him that way? was it something he said? something he did not say? it made him think, more. wonder what exactly she saw. like she was judging or testing him, for something.

i know i am a sinner. you need not look at me so. am i not guilty enough without your gaze?

it was warm, though. too warm. hot to the touch, even. occasionally he fought the urge to turn away, but that would belie some sense of shame that could not be hidden by his cowl. and he had practiced hard enough to rely on it well.

a host, a proper one, could anticipate his guests' needs fairly well, but...he had to admit, hers were little more than a mystery. mostly, she took care of herself- with one exception that he was sorry to have overlooked.

"Hair dresser?"

a minor detail he was not prepared for. still, she did not have a problem with the lack thereof, going so far as to take trips to the Source and come back completely changed, until she defeated the third Lightwarden- and it was around then that the changes began.

restraint was nothing new to him. to her...seeing it upon her, imposed in such a way that kept her apparent wildness in check, was frightening. he had seen her fight before. she always did it gloriously- leaping into battle and launching herself across battlefields to catch her enemies with wide crescents of her blade- but when she returned that time, she was shaken. harrowed. eyes wide and bruised under apparent lack of sleep. a light dusting of white powder- though it was not powder, he knew- across the base of her horns, nearest to her face.

she cut her hair that night. dyed it dark. a beautiful pink, raspberry, but wrong. it reminded him of before. before time went wrong.

the ghost is still stuck to her armor. stronger now. how can she shine so brightly, even when her world had turned so dark? he must be covetous. of that light. or that darkness. nothing more.

"I will not let them kill me," she said once, her voice deep and echoing beneath her mask. It shook him to his very core. How can one decide that? To simply not die? And all the while, to ignore how many times she clearly had. It was evident, too, in the other Scions' eyes. That they could not stop her.

she will fight anything big enough. anything, to save even one person.

"There are far more interesting beasts for her to fight," he admitted lightly, "and I would not point her at my enemies like a weapon," he was sure to say it aloud, when the ever-present thorn in his side made his way into the Ocular again, like a rat climbing into a root cellar.

yes, that was this world now. a root cellar bearing all the fruit of one-hundred years. even one speck of mold would spoil it all.

spoil her, as well.

"Fond of her, are you?" It was mild but damning. The Exarch did not dignify it with an answer. A shame that the silence was loud enough.

#wolexarch #ffxiv #aran #emet-selch #denial??? in MY fanfiction??? more likely than you think #fic #this one was called Denial but tumblr wouldnt let me edit that...so whatever

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endlesscrimson89 · 8 months

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FFXIV Write2023, Prompt 20: Hamper.

Raha only arched his dark-red eyebrows at the sight of the hamper in Senri’s arms and the Warrior took that for a good sign considering his plan.

"What do you have there, Snark?" His lover drawled, closing his pen and elegantly folding his hands on the desk in front of him. The glint in his crimson eyes promised that even if he didn’t know yet his intentions, he would be on board... or so Senri hoped, while a downright wolfish grin stretched his lips.

Pushing the door of his husband’s office shut with his foot, he stepped deeper inside and settled the covered hamper on the free corner of the desk - always empty for when he wanted to accompany his lover’s stay in this room.

Because Raha was sweet and considerate like that - one of the many, many reasons Senri adored him.

"Something I had Tataru curstom-make for me," he admitted smugly after setting his hands on his hips and on purpose waving his tail playfully.

"...oh?" A spark of true curiosity filled his mate’s fiery eyes as he stretched his hand toward the material covering the top of the basket.

"Ah ah ah," Senri chided, swiftly but delicately smacking that hand away and smoothing the sting of it with a wink and and cheeky grin. "No peeking yet, my prince."

"What is your scheme then, Senri?" His husband chuckled, leaning back in his seat and tilted his head curiously.

"A simple one," he stated, wiggling his eyebrows playfully before pointing the door with his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to our bedroom, love, and only after I leave you can look inside. I think when you see it... you're going to know what I want," he had absolutely no doubt about that. He saluted, then spun around, then headed out.

He grinned toothily when right after closing the door his lover’s snort was followed by his downright musical laughter.

Senri whistled as he headed to their bedroom, rubbing his hands together and nearly twitching with anticipation.

Another thing that he loved about Raha was that his redhead was always eager to play, and more often than not, he added easily to Senri’s own ideas.

This time was no different, either, as a short while after he undressed and settled on his knees inside their nest, letting his tail swivel excitedly as he watched the door, he couldn’t help his enamored grin when they opened and he saw the effect of his idea with additional 'tweaks' by his husband’s creativity.

"This you wished for, my Warrior?" The Exarch's perfectly regal tone and calm smile was the only thing visible under the unnatural shade of the cowl, matching perfectly with the rest of the attire... somehow including now the as perfect recreation of the blue crystal covering his right arm and throat, climbing up to his cheek.

"Oh, Azeyma...!" Senri gushed, clapping as his tail went wild and Raha’s gorgeous smile twitched into a smug smirk for a moment as he closed the door of their bedroom behind him.

When he neared their nest, Senri stretched his arm and smiled feeling warm skin under the illusion of the crystal, and reassured, settled his hands on top of his thighs. He inclined his head submissively when his lover chuckled and ran fingers of his 'normal-looking' hand through Senri’s dark hair, before flicking his lowered ear playfully.

"You're so gorgeous, my Warrior," his soothing voice hoarse with want sent a shiver down ink-haired Seeker's back and curled his tail with bliss.

"And all yours, my lord Exarch," he purred in reply, leaning toward him and pretty much rubbing his face against the material covering his stomach. "To do with as you like," he cooed, striving to sound as subdued as he could manage despite mounting arousal.

"Wicked white... Such a dangerous thing to say, my Snark," his lover’s hand curled into fist in dark hair at the back of Senri’s head, then pulled until he tilted his head back with a low groan. Looking into the glamour of the shadow hiding his husband’s fire-like eyes, he arched his back, shamelessly preening while keeping his expression innocent. He was rewarded with those full, plush lips thinning and his lover’s spicy scent growing thick and musky with arousal.

"Use me as you wish, my lord," he dared, letting his voice gruff to gravel, while coyly peering toward Raha’s face from under his jet-black lashes.

"My shameless beast," his mate cooed, smoothing the fingers of his 'crystallized' hand over the edge of his jaw, to stop his forefinger on Senri’s lower lip. Without the need for words, he let his fangs elongate, baring them at his lover with a low, animalistic growl as he flexed his hands - letting his claws extend - before raising his hands to the sound of his husband’s gasp, he tore the front of his red-white-black robe open. "I see you're in need of taming... again," Raha hissed, pointedly pulling on his hair until Senri hissed, whipping his tail with mock-agression.

"Always," he growled softly, and they broke the game briefly, exchanging excited grins.

Enough said, Tataru wasn't very pleased to already next day receive an order of repair of barely made outfit. But - taught by experience - she swiftly resigned herself to preparing a few spare sets - not daring to ask too many questions about suspicious tears in the heavy material.

#final fantasy 14 #g'raha/wol #ffxivwrite2023 #g'raha tia

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linelpisffxiv · 2 years

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FFXIVWrite2022 8: Not what you were expecting

Emet-Selch was mad.

All this time, he had been certain Kore had reincarnated into a decidedly mediocre miqo’te, that he wouldn’t have to worry about them.

Lahabrea had insisted the warrior of Light was one of those horned beings that were usually found in Othard, though this one said they were from Werlyt. It makes sense now.

Kore had somehow awoken in that annoyingly normal miqo’te some time between when he last checked on them, and now.

Unfortunately, while he thought he could deal with a rose-horned Au Ra, he couldn’t deal with Kore.

They had cut him off at every turn. Every chance he had to share his story, and they share their own.

The smirk on their face in Rak’tika.

“What, were you going to leave out the second sacrifice? The amount demanded by Zodiark both times, and the attempted third?”

When he tried to share how he saw these beings, Kore laughed.

“Emet-Selch, forgive me, but I believe Hermes told you that even constructs have value, are alive, even if they lack a soul. It’s still murder if you kill them. Saying it isn’t for us is comparing us to stone, which I don’t think you see us as. We’re definitely at least on the level of Construct.”

It isn’t so much the way they speak to him, the way they use their past together to anticipate him and his arguments.

It’s that they’re right.

And the way their allies look at him through it.

It isn’t anger and disgust. Not after that first time.

They look at him with pity.

He will show them, though. He isn’t some plodding comedic villain the way Terpsichore cuts him off at every turn.

Now, perhaps he should think like them. Use what he knows of them to counter their moves.

What is the deepest thing that can disturb them. What are their own plans?

Their friendship with the Exarch seems promising. He has seen them whispering together, and he doubts Kore is unaware of the growing imbalance of aether within them.

Cut them off from the Exarch, perhaps.

And this shard has remnants of Amaurot in comparatively shallow waters. Seeing their home, their people. Terpsichore would not be able to resist him then.

#FFXIVWrite2022 #FFXIVwrite #Emet-Selch stuff #ShB era #Internal Monologue #Teri really does cut him off of all his big moments #Especially the rak'tika one

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synchronmurmurs · 3 years

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Prompt #29: Debonair

Probably my last attempt at FFXIVWrite2021. 🤣 I had a few other prompts from previous days that I started but sort of ran out of steam on, which... kinda defeats the purpose of the event, but ah well sjfdsf. I think I'm kind of barely just scraping by with today's prompt, but shhh it's fine, I had fun, and that's what matters here.

This one's about Punchy seeing Urianger in his new AST gear for the first time in ShB. 👉👈

———

"Oh you are going to love this by the way," Thancred comments idly, a sly, knowing smile on his face.

Myra arches an eyebrow, not entirely uninterested, but not particularly in the mood for games either, considering all they had put up with since arriving in Il Mheg. Ever since she succumbed to the Exarch's influence and finally made her way to the First, seeking out Urianger had, rather shamefully, taken stubborn refuge at the forefront of her mind. But Thancred seems adamant in remaining vague, throwing a mischievous look over his shoulder at her as they walk the path leading to the Bookman's Shelves.

"Yes!" Clasping both her hands together, Ryne agrees, though perhaps for a completely different reason. "Urianger has such a vast collection of tomes at the Bookman's Shelves, there is bound to be one that piques even your interest!"

Thancred hums, amused. "Not quite what I meant. Did I not tell you? Our friend was once adamant in donning robes that covered him head to toe. Wore the most obnoxious looking goggles too." His eyes trail upwards in thought. "And as I recall, despite being quite fond of him now, Myra here wasn't amenable to that in the beginning. Isn't that right?"

Jaw clenching, lips pursing, Myra makes a noise—a half grunt that almost sounds embarrassed. That was so long ago, it feels as though those memories belong to an entirely different person. Considering how much she has changed since first setting foot in Vesper Bay, perhaps they do. "I thought it secretive back then, as if he had something to hide. It didn't help that his first words to me were a verse from some godsdamned prophecy."

Turning on her heel to walk backwards in front of their small group, Ryne laughs. "Modest robes and prophecy? Yet that still sounds much like the Urianger I've come to know."

"Well, we'll let Myra decide for herself how she feels about this new Urianger, shall we?"

They approach the lonely building on the lakeside, shaded by its sheer size by the time they reach the front door. Thancred presses a hand to the sturdy wood, with its intricate detailing, and sends one final look towards Myra before he opens it and, ever the gentleman, gestures for her to head inside.

She takes a silent breath, her chest puffing in an attempt to clear her stomach of that peculiar nervous sensation. It's ridiculous, she thinks, that she is this eager to see him. That Thancred managed to set expectations upon her that she strangely cannot picture in her head. What did he mean she was going to love this? It isn't as though she hasn't seen Urianger's face before.

And yet…

The heavy door thuds closed behind them, and while Myra peers around the room, somehow warm and cozy despite how vast it is, Thancred calls to the home's current owner.

"Urianger! Are you in?"

At her sides, Myra's fists clench, and despite herself, despite her best attempts to control it, she feels her face begin to warm; flustered already in anticipation forced upon her. Footsteps sound from the back of the room, heeled shoes clicking lightly down a set of stairs. She hears his voice ring out before she sees him, that soothing, dulcet tone, though that really only makes things worse.

"Unto a world weary of heroes, a hero wends her way…" Light hearted, and perhaps even amused, the smile on his face can be heard even in his voice alone. "The Exarch did send word that thou wouldst seek me out, but ne'er did I imagine thou wouldst arrive so soon…"

The barred gate at the bottom of the stairs swings open, and Urianger steps forth, black skirt swishing, jewelled adornments clinking. His hood and robes are gone, replaced by something much more flattering, much more… appealing. Myra freezes at the sight of him, her eyes widening, her body stiffening with tension as her heart rattles and thumps within her chest. For god's sake, she is far too old to be behaving like some lovestruck child, yet she cannot will herself to move. Or think. Or speak.

Or do anything, really, other than just stand there and gawk at how much skin his new outfit now shows.

"Full glad am I to see thee once more, my friend, and none the worse for thy trevails."

A still silence is his answer, prompting Thancred to peer over at her, the tension that's overcome her, the stark shock upon her face… He has to bite his cheeks to keep a bark of laughter contained.

"Gods, Urianger, you broke her."

"Ah…" bashful, wrings his hands, feeling a tint of colour rise to his cheeks, "mine apologies."

#ffxivwrite2021 #FFXIV #urianger augurelt #urianger x wol #Punchy #Punchianger #AU: FFXIV #sync's ocs #Punchy wrt to how much skin Uri now shows: it's free real estate

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elfyourmother · 3 years

Note

Runar for the askbox meme~

How I feel about this character:

He's Baby. Just the sweetest thing. Not just because of the adorable crush on Y'shtola but also in how quietly strong he is. He's been the spiritual leader of his people through so much hardship. The Night's Blessed are honestly one of my favorite if not my favorite factions of the people we befriended in Norvrandt if only because they remind me an awful lot of how I always used to write the Müllenkamp cult and the Dark as religion, to the point I actually toyed with Sydney being the one who founded the sect and Gisele running into him out in the middle of the forest somewhere. But I have a lot of hcs about this group based on that, and Runar is the epitome of Dark is Not Evil.

He's also incredibly resilient. Obviously Y'shtola helped them a ton, but at the end of the day those are his people. He's the caretaker of this beautiful little community of people trying to do the best they can in a really rotten world. He finds beauty in that world despite everything. And he's very clearly the heart of Slitherbough to me.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

I don't actually ship Y'shtola with him even though it's adorable, if only because there's only one way it could possibly end and it breaks my heart too much to think about it; I cried enough in 5.3 about it. And while I think she is very fond of him, I don't think his feelings are especially requited in that way, which also makes me sad. Y'shtola's too pragmatic and I really think that despite her obvious fondness for him, she deliberately kept a certain amount of emotional distance because she had a mission to carry out.

So I would much rather see him end up with one of the Blessed or some nice Viera huntress from Fanow or something. I really love the idea of the Viis opening up and befriending them, especially in light of the beast tribe storyline bringing the peoples of the Greatwood together (man does that story hit different in a Covid world).

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Y'shtola all day long. He's kind and compassionate and while he isn't stupid by any means, he is a little guileless--something that I think throws her for a bit of a loop, because Shtola's used to dealing with clever scholarly types who know how clever they are. There's nothing ulterior about his motives; what you see is what you get with him, and he always has a kind word and is easy to trust. He's incredibly comforting. And after her very pointed conflicts with the Exarch and her understandable frustration over the lies and manipulation and secrecy, I think meeting Runar was exactly what she needed.

I also brotp him with Ysayle, for many of the same reasons. In my headcanon she became a Scion and thus got yoinked to the First and she spent 5 years living among the Night's Blessed with Y'shtola, helping to lead them--she was known to them as Lady Vidofnir. She took it upon herself to train them in the same guerilla tactics she used so well, and that was 100% why they were able to hold their own against not just the splinter sect of evil goths but the Eulmoran soldiers when they came calling. Runar was incredibly grateful of course, enough that he didn't pry about how she came across this knowledge. Eventually she told him though, and he was humbled that she trusted him so much.

Ysayle's whole "hat" was that she was looking for companionship, a place she could truly belong, and the Night's Blessed were everything the Harriers weren't. They weren't fanatics hanging on. They were a bunch of goth hippies. And Runar represented the best of them. On his part, Runar rather astutely saw the quiet sadness in Ysayle. Their friendship was very healing for her, same as it was for Y'shtola, and in ways I don't think either of them anticipated or even realized.

Runar performed Ysayle and Gisele's handfasting, too. They didn't even have to ask him. And long after they leave the First, Ysayle still keeps certain rituals of the Blessed. She finds them a comforting reminder of her time there, and does it to honor him.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Are there even any?? Probably that I don't ship him and Shtola tbh.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.:

That we had gotten more on him, honestly. Was he born into the sect, or did he seek them out to join them?

Also I know it's not very likely but I really do hope at some point we get to check in on our friends on the First, including him. The self-contained nature of that story kinda precludes it though, and it makes me sad. I've kinda resigned myself to just seeing Ryne and possibly Gaia again, though "resigned" is probably a bad term because I love those two and hope to see them again. I just wish we could see the others too.

#askbox memes #character opinion meme #i really need to write more about ysayle and shtola's time there #that's more fic on the backburner #ice wife #cat wife #father beefcat

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nadana-vhet · 3 years

Note

"say's who?"with Ahmi 👀

Rating: PG-13? For a single, lowkey implication. 👀

WoL x G’raha, post 5.3

“Says who?”

“I - I didn’t mean anything by it!” G’raha stuttered, “I simply thought that you shouldn’t have to do all this yourself, seeing that you just came back from the First a mere bell ago!”

Ahmi rolled her eyes playfully, “I’m fine, G’raha. No reason why I can’t wash my own clothes.” she chuckled, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she worked on scrubbing her robes. They were soaked in blood and dirt and grime, as was on par for her duties as the Warrior of Light and Darkness. “If you’re so intent on babying me, at least stay and keep me company so I’m not laboring away and lonely.”

G’raha sat down obediently on the bench beside her, though Ahmi had taken to kneeling on the floor to really dig into the stains she had acquired in her most recent battle. He resisted the urge to apologize again, still getting used to the fact that Ahmi saw him as a friend. She felt comfortable throwing jabs and joking with him, and truthfully, the casual intimacy made his heart feel as if it was going to burst from his chest. “How is Lyna doing?” he asked, trying not to let them lapse into awkward silence.

“She’s doing great. Misses you, of course, but they’re all getting along just fine.” Ahmi hummed, pausing to close her eyes to consider all that they had already accomplished since the ‘death’ of the Exarch, “Thanks to you, of course. She thinks it’s very amusing that you’re always so hungry here, considering that she would always have to fight with you to eat something when you locked yourself in the Ocular.”

“Lyna told you that?!” G’raha’s ears pressed back with embarrassment, plopping his chin into his hand and leaning forward, “...I suppose I deserve it, though, considering how much she went out of her way to make sure I was taken care of.”

“As you did with her, G’raha.” Ahmi smiled up at him, standing and wringing out her robes into the grass before draping them over a nearby railing. She then sat down next to him and dried her hands, which were wrinkled and pruned from being wet for so long. “Speaking of, are you hungry? We can go to the cafe - I’ll buy.”

G’raha’s ears perked up at the mention of dinner - oh gods, is she asking me to dinner?

“Yes! I mean...” he cleared his throat, “I would like to grab dinner with you.”

Correcting yourself didn’t help! They both sound desperate!

“You make it sound so formal,” Ahmi laughed, standing up and motioning for G’raha to follow as they walked towards the other side of Revenant’s Toll. Her laugh sent shivers down his spine, wanting to pocket the noise and replay it over and over in the back of his mind. “I’m not even dressed up!”

It was true, she was only in a button up and trousers, but seeing her so relaxed was just as good as seeing her in a dress. “You look beautiful, Ahmi, as always.”

Ahmi flushed, though she covered it with another laugh. Laugh again please. “And now you’re making it sound as if we’re on a date! What’s next? Taking me back to your quarters and asking me to call you Raha?~” she bumped his shoulder with her’s, a shy grin plastered across her face.

She said my name she said my name she said-

G’raha covered her jest with a painfully obnoxious laugh, “I - of course not! I would never even dare to think I could convince someone as inspiring as you, to, ah-“

Ahmi paused, stopping dead in her tracks and pulling G’raha out of the main walkway, “The man who traversed time and space, built an entire city from nothing, ruled said city for centuries, figured out a way to get our friends back from the First, figured out a way to get himself back from the First... thinks he can’t land a woman who’s simply lucky enough to have one too many souls stuffed inside her corporeal body? Gods, G’raha... you really are hopeless.” Ahmi shook her head with a quiet chuckle, “I think he could easily convince someone like that to, ah,” she mocked playfully, “go on a date with him.”

G’raha turned a shade of red that he didn’t think had existed before, staring at Ahmi wide-eyed as he tried to process what she had just said to him. Was she implying...? No, of course not - but it really seems as if...

Oh.

“A-Ahmi, would you like to, perhaps, consider our dinner plans a... date?” G’raha exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for centuries. He instantly began to panic to himself, wondering if he had interpreted her wrong, or if he was too forward, or-

“I would love that, G’raha.” Ahmi tucked her hands behind her back and beamed up at him.

His heart practically stopped at the sight of her batting her eyelashes at him, playfully or not, before shakily holding out his arm so that he could at least escort her like a proper gentleman. She took it eagerly, locking their arms as well as placing a gentle hand against his bicep. Gods, I could die right now. This is all I could ever possibly need for the rest of my existence.

And so they continued, the entire walk to the cafe taken up by a desperate attempt from a nervous catboy to stop the incessant twitching of his ears as he prepared for what he anticipated would be the best meal of his entire life.

#ffxiv #wolexarch #wol x g'raha tia #faeluria writes #oh my GOD did this get out of hand fast #I did not expect it to go this way but my brain was just #oop here we are #G’raha? it’s time to simp buddy #ask #ask faeluria #cue krile and Alphinaud screeching when they see them walking together #TATARU YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHO WE JUST SAW FUCKIN HOLDING HANDS

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allycryz · 3 years

Text

WOL Challenge #7: Want

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompts Here]

Early Shadowbringers spoilers, companion piece of sorts to Day 4: Outrage

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Nerys x Haurchefant

Summary: Nerys and Haurchefant’s reunion on the first. Sometimes, bodies and minds don’t cooperate and even though you’re horny and can’t keep your hands off your lover.

(Basically–I wanted to write about how things going “wrong” in the bedroom is not an indictment of your relationship. Sometimes there are a million little factors that get in the way.)

They cannot leave Eulmore fast enough.

Neither speaks as they hasten over dirt roads and dry, brittle grass. Gatetown grows smaller and smaller but somehow, the tiered city only looms more. When will they send someone to hunt them? The way those girls in harlequin motley moved–Nerys saw the training in it. Should they need to, that pair can kill. And quickly.

Reason prevails by the third hill along with the chilling memory of the singer. Her patron’s promise of ascension. She’d had an uneasy feeling before and now, after seeing the tame sin eaters in Vauthry’s chamber…

“They don’t kill where others will see,” Nerys says aloud. “Into the sea or fed to their monsters. I think we’ll be alright.”

“...Twelve preserve,” Alphinaud murmurs. “I knew there was something terribly wrong, but I had no real notion. It’s the one place the Exarch hasn’t sent spies.”

“That is telling. About their security and about what could wait inside.”

Alphinaud scrubs a hand over his face. A rare nervous gesture for him, even in front of close friends. He strives to appear cool and calculating in all things. She clasps his shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll figure this out, Alphi. How to help them.”

He huffs a laugh. “Do you know...I actually missed you calling me that.”

“You didn’t like it before? I’m so sorry, I would never have-”

“No, no, please Nerys. I didn’t dislike it so much as...felt it was undignified. But now?” He looks up at her. Smiles. “I’m glad to be with my friend again, and I want her to use it.”

“Alright,” she grins back. Grateful for the spot of warmth after the utter horror behind them. “But if I ever do anything-”

A shadow falls over them.

Nerys’ gaze jerks up as she reaches for her lance. Not a sin eater but something coming from the monstrous cliffs, circling once. Twice. And then it dives down towards them.

Her thighs and calves sing in anticipation, ready to leap. Beside her, Alphinaud murmurs a spell. The dark shape becomes the silhouette of an amaro, becomes a more defined beast, and the rider–

The rider yells something. Unintelligible, and then not. It is her name. It is her name and the voice is–and the rider is–

“Nerys!” He calls again. His blue cape streams behind him as the amaro dives. Unceasing light gleams against his golden armor. To her eye, he looks like a hero summoned out of an ancient tale to offer aid.

“Haurchefant!” She rushes forward and he jumps from his mount, the beast landing seconds later. It’s not clear who touches who first–her arms thrown about his neck, his about her waist. He lifts her off the ground and spins her about, his laughter the purest music to her ears.

Nerys cradles her leather-clad hand against his cheek and kisses him. It has only been weeks for her, but losing him atop everything else had near broken her.

For him, it has been two years. No wonder he kisses her so fiercely, so deeply, the rest of the world falls away. She feels him tremble against her. Tears fall down his cheek.

“My Haurchefant,” she says, wiping beneath his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I’ve ached to see you again.” And then he resumes their kiss, crushing her tight against him. It’s possible he will never let her go again. It’s possible she won’t either.

At last he lifts his head and turns to Alphinaud, eyes bright and shining. The young man pointedly watches the ocean with red cheeks. “Good to see you, Alphinaud. It’s been an age.”

“Yes.” Alphinaud clears his throat. “I wasn’t aware you were around?”

“Mm. Playing the diplomat in the settlements above. You can only get there by amaro.” He gestures to his mount. “Luckily, I’m allowed to partner with Yami when I need wings.”

The amaro in question grants them an unimpressed yawn and turns to sniff at the brush and dirt.

“I was only told you were on a covert mission,” says Nerys, arms staying firmly about his waist.

“And so I was. No doubt Eulmore would be displeased to learn of any alliance that doesn’t funnel more bodies their way.”

At that, Nerys shudders. Does he have any idea how right he is? The grim expression says he might. “But you two seemed set out for somewhere. May I offer my aid?”

“We’re for Cracked Shell Beach,” says Alphinuad. “Our rides await us to return to the Crystarium. It is best that we don’t linger here overlong.”

“It’s safe to say we’re not welcome back to Eulmore.” Nerys tries to keep her tone light. Her right hand clenches and then flexes, directing the tension out of her.

“Say no more.” He brushes his lips against her forehead. “To the beach then. Once you debrief, we will catch up.”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud begins walking again. “If you’ll forgive the turn of phrase, it has been an extremely long day for the both of us.”

“Forgiven,” says Haurchefant with a glance at the undying light above. He clicks his tongue and Yami leaves his foraging to stand beside him. Elezen and beast escort them to the shore.

Nerys feels some of the dread and horror eke away as they walk, their hands brushing against one another.

A long day indeed. Their report takes time, weaving the state of Stilltide and Wright into all the details they might remember from Eulmore. The harlequins, the meol, the singer, the entitled lord surrounded by Sin Eaters. Haurchefant is a steady presence at her side, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

Alphinaud’s findings are more limited, having been occupied with the Chais. But with pen and paper he is able to sketch near accurate renditions of the layout and positions of the guards. He recalls the naivete of some servants versus the abject fear he witnessed in the shopkeepers and merchants. Those people were not beholden to individuals with fickle tastes. How many servants had they seen come and go?

“Tomorrow,” says Nerys. “I’ll find Alisaie. As it stands, I need some rest before I leave again.”

“Of course, of course.” The Crystal Exarch nods. “I’ve arranged a suite for you at the Pendants. Pray, go eat and rest. Just tell the Manager your name and he’ll take care of things.”

She nods. “Thank you. Haurchefant, I’ll tell them to expect you?”

“Yes, love.” He kisses her, chaste and gentle before their audience. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

As promised, the Manager brings her to one of the largest suites she has ever seen. Far larger than some apartments in Revenant’s Toll. She must look like a fish, gaping as she does. He smiles and rises to every inch of his considerable height.

“The Exarch asked for my best, dare I assume you like it?”

“I do,” she says, walking over to the long dining table. Nerys could easily host a supper party here. “May I trouble you for the time?”

Her chronometer is wildly out of sync with this timestream. On her way here, the streets had seemed more empty but a city rarely sleeps. A truth both here and the Source.

The Manager glances at his own device. “Fifteen minutes past the eleventh bell. We keep the shutters closed for our new guests but they are free to open them as they like. Can I get you anything?”

“It looks like there is plenty of food and drink for the next few days. Ah, my companion Lord Haurchefant will come through shortly. He’s allowed to know where my room is.”

“Oh! That’s right, he is another from the Exarch’s homeland…” The man looks thoughtful. “Such a nice man, from what I remember. I’ll point him in the right direction.”

Blessedly, he does not linger. Nerys immediately avails herself of the restroom and then strips off her leathers. She is unbelievably parched and feels dirty, despite her mandatory shower at Eulmore. The perfume they provided is still too cloying upon her. First will be another rinse, and then drinking a carafe’s worth of water to make her feel whole again.

It hasn’t been that long for her since she saw him. Not really. They had been separated far longer–during the campaigns in Ala Mhigo and Doma. But that had been different. She knew he was safe in Thanalan, under Urianger’s watchful eye. He had fought during their final push, that harrowing night with Zenos and Shinryu. Even then–it was different knowing he battled alongside Aymeric and Lucia.

But when Maxima returned with him as still and waxen as the others, breathing but unresponsive…

Something broke in her that day, against the Ascian wearing Zenos’ corpse. It was not one thing but likely a host of cracks and fissures from near-constant struggle and battle. But if there was one moment that started the chain reaction...it was seeing Haurchefant trapped in his own body.

Having him back feels like the day after her harrowing experience in The Vault. Letting herself into his room and finding him alive and, if not hale and whole, at least recovering. The relief of it threatens to send her crashing down if she thinks too long on it.

Sometimes, Nerys wonders if there is something wrong with her. One person is not meant to feel this much, to have emotion so fierce it seems to course all through her. Years of learning to keep it below the surface only does so much. It doesn’t stop her from experiencing it.

She steps out of the bathroom in a robe and Haurchefant is there, slicing up an apple at the long dining table. He still wears the golden armor and cape–a design, she realises, is very close to what the Crystarium guard wear. Though she has seen none with that color of plate.

“You could have changed clothes,” she says. “You still can.”

“Ah but…” He rises. “That would have prolonged returning to you. And maybe I want you to see me in my ‘official’ uniform again.”

Nerys walks towards him, taking in the sight, He is always lovely and she suspects he always will be. Fortemps men age extremely well. The ensemble does add a certain...magnificence to him. He might be a prince in such armor, if they still had such titles in Ishgard. “You look amazing. You said you were forming alliances?”

“Mm.” He meets her in the middle of the room, wrapping arms about her. “The dwarves of Tomra are excellent smiths. I thought to impress them with meticulously crafted armor. Different from what I might use to treat with the Night’s Blessed.”

These are all terms she doesn’t know outside of the Exarch’s explanation of where her friends are. He speaks them with such ease, as if he is a son of the First and not a visitor who arrived two years ago.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” She asks, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

He smiles. “Oh plenty. For instance, I cannot keep my hands off of you.”

“Good.” She releases his cape from his armor and watches it pool on the ground. “Then don’t.”

Thus permitted, Haurchefant kisses her as fiercely as he did in Kholusia. His armor presses against the fluffy white material of her robe, her exposed skin, and she doesn’t care. It is a welcome prod against her fatigue along with the aching need clenching at her center.

He tilts up her chin and presses a hungry mouth to the underside of her jaw, to her throat. She shivers as his gauntleted hands cradle either side of her neck. Haurchefant knows she cannot abide pressure at her throat stronger than a bite or kiss. Cold metal laying atop her shoulders is different.

Nerys doesn’t know what it means that it’s affecting her so. That can be worked out later. She wants him now.

Haurchefant tosses her belt aside and pushes the robe open and off of her. It lays gathered their feet along with his cape. “Give me a moment, love. I’ll have this armor gone.”

“Don’t bother.” Nerys slides her hands to his belt, finding familiar straps and catches. Armor is armor, most of the time. She’s well-acquainted with removing certain pieces for a fuck after a battle. To her disappointment, he does remove the gauntlets but leaves the rest. In the moment he promised, she frees his cock.

“The bed.” He says, voice urgent. Punctuating it with a harsh, brief kiss. “Go lie down.”

“My lord.” She rushes to cross the room. He is like a shadow, just behind her by a step as she moves. Watches her lay down for him. When he adjusts her–draping her legs over the side of the bed and sliding a pillow beneath her–she is breathless.

Haurchefant is often bossy with her in bed. Including one memorable afternoon in Ala Mhigo, when he tied her to the cot and ordered her to be quiet. (Tent walls are thin, after all). What drives him now is as fierce as she has ever seen, a consuming hunger that rages just below the surface.

Nerys swallows, throat still unbelievably dry. Water will wait till after. Everything can wait till after. Her tongue grazes her cracked lips. “I missed you.”

“You…” He plants his hands on either side of her, his greaves grazing her shins. “I wished for your arrival as often as I dreaded it. I wanted to see you and yet, I did not want to drag you across worlds for another conflict.”

Haurchefant shifts his balance to one arm–the non-dominant hand–and slips his fingers between her legs. She has no idea if the scars from the Vault transferred to this body, though she sees the telltale signs of fatigue. The pain must still-

Nerys sighs as he spreads her folds, two fingers easing into her. “You know...I would cross all rifts to find you.”

“I know.” His lips brush her forehead. “And I know you will face whatever comes and win, as you always do. Even so, would that I could grant you a reprieve.”

“This,” she says, spreading her legs wider. “This is respite. This is what I need.”

He creates such need in her, an ache that demands satisfaction. Especially with the intent look in his eyes, the passion trembling just below the surface. The kind of intense, overwhelming desire that keeps her awake at night until she reaches for her toys.

His touch is direct and purposeful. All the right movements, the right pressure–he remembers it all. Nerys tilts her head back, eyes closing as she sinks into the feel of it. The building in her. A slight cramp forms in her left calf and she lifts that foot to rest on the bed, rocking in motion with his fingers.

It’s there. It’s right there. She just needs to push further in that direction and he’ll have her in pieces.

“Haurchefant.” Nerys lifts her head. “I need you.”

It is as much for him as it for her–he is tense with the force of holding back his passion. Relief crosses his noble brow and he nods, slipping his fingers out of her. The sight of his tongue tasting the slick on them sends a new flutter through her.

“At your service,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around himself. He takes a moment to find the notch before pressing in, slow at first and then all at once. The angle is...she shifts herself until it feels right, sighing. Draws her other foot up. Turns out her hip more so her bent outer thigh touches the mattress. Better, but...

Still as a cat, he looks down at her. Holding himself in place, unwilling to move though the need in his cerulean gaze is almost painful. “Is this alright?”

Nerys nods. “This is alright. I’m alright. Let me…”

She lifts both feet, resting her ankles on his shoulders before extending her legs. She is tall but so is he, not much further to go. Much better. This is a position she knows and one she always likes. Especially with him in armor like this, fierce and strong and overpowering.

“Go on,” she urges, rocking against him. "Please."

He requires no further coaxing and begins moving inside her. Nerys grips at the sheets, sliding her hips in tandem with him. There. Right there. If he just drives at that spot...

Even his finger on her clit can't distract from the returning cramp. She flexes her foot a few times, annoyed with herself. She has him back and he is a magnificent, golden knight before her; and her body creates obstacles. The growing cottony feel of the inside of her mouth. The warnings of a headache along the too-tight muscles at her nape and temple.

Nerys bats these annoyances out of her brain and sets her focus to him. The thick, hot length of him sliding into her. The gentle and insistent pressure of his thumb. The blazing blue of his eyes as he looks at her like she is a precious treasure.

It's there. She can see the edge of relief.

She can also feel her body refusing to move past this stage, the artful touch at her clit moving from delightful to numbing.

"A moment," Nerys gasps. "Sorry, can we…"

"Anything. Anything." His voice is a near growl in contrast to his words. He seems liable to fall apart at any moment.

"Just-fuck me right now, no hands," she says. Sometimes the nub needs a brief reprieve before she can come.

The hand at her clit disappears, splays instead on the bed beside her head. His hips snap back into motion and she gasps at the jolt of it.

Twelve. She is slick and needy and has wanted this for weeks now. The feel of his heavy cock. The utter surrender to him, a man who owns her soul and heart and-

"Shit!" The cramp blossoms at once into a throbbing, consuming pain. Too much to ignore. "Sorry, sorry, it's not you, my leg-"

Haurchefant trembles above her, leashing his desire. It takes him some time to speak. "Per...perhaps a different position? And I'll remove the armor."

With other men, this is the point she would have carried on and faked her climax. But he would not thank her for such deception. Too empathetic by half, too much of a gentleman.

"Just...put my legs down and finish in me." She says at last, frustration prickling at her eyes and throat. This is their reunion and she can't even-

"My heart." Reverent, gentle, he slides her legs back down. His breath is so ragged. "I can-"

"Please." She adjusts herself against him. "Let me do this for you? You're trembling."

He sighs. There is a faint shudder as he holds himself back. "I am not so green I can't control myself."

"I know. But I'm saying you don't have to." Nerys tightens around him. "Come for me, please."

Haurchefant shudders as her inner walls clench around him, stuttering out a breathy moan. One nod, then he moves in her again. The leg has a brief spasm and for a moment she fears it will be too much-

And then he slides deep into her, shuddering and filling her and gripping the blanket by her head so tight he might rip it. The feel of him falling apart re-kindles some of the heat in her. It is not satisfaction but it is nice, seeing him like this.

Haurchefant kisses her, a mindless, fierce claiming of her mouth. She groans as he stutters inside her with the aftershocks.

"Nerys, dearest…" He whispers like a prayer. The tone and the care in that settles her. The love in his eyes settles her.

The armor does come off. Another time, they’ll figure that out. It was...well it isn’t funny that she’s had sex when both parties were armored but this was beyond them. But it’s a cousin of humor, at least.

And at least she can smile. Keyed up as she is, it is a blessing to feel some contentment about the whole thing. And Haurchefant is gentle as he cleans her up, warm hands soothing over her until she relaxes. Carefully kneading at the interfering calf.

They lie naked in the cool, crisp sheets. Skin against skin, calmer now. Haurchefant slides a hand through her hair. "By the by; I should have said this, the moment I saw you. You look utterly beautiful with this new cut."

Warmth flares in her cheeks and chest. "You like it?"

"Mm. Exceptionally pretty." He kisses the tip of her nose. "Somehow you are the Most Beautiful Lily in Ishgard no matter what you do with it. As well as other countries and worlds, naturally."

"Oh now you're just exaggerating." She kisses his shoulder. Her stomach chooses then to growl, loud and angry.

"...beloved," says Haurchefant, brow creasing. "When last did you eat?"

"Far too long ago," she admits. "I was going to eat and drink but...well, you put your hands on me and that was that."

He sighs and sits up. "I even cut up fruit for you before I became a distraction. Come, let's take care of you."

Nerys slides her arms around him. "I like the sound of that. Do you have to leave the Crystarium again any time soon?"

Haurchefant smiles, eyes a little sad at the notion. “Likely. Let us make the most of this time, ere we must part again.”

“I can do that.” She relaxes in his grip, curling up against his warmth. For the first time that long, interminable day: peace settles upon her.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #wol x haurchefant #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #alphinaud leveilleur #crystal exarch #///////explicit fic #ally writes

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sparrowwritings · 3 years

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Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Twenty-One: “To succeed in life, you need three things; a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.” -- Reba McEntire

Day Twenty -- Masterpost -- Day Twenty-Three

The courtyard emptied quickly now that the citizens of the Crystarium were well assured that their Exarch, the Scions and the Warriors of Darkness were well. Or, at least, as well as people who had been through a harrowing experience and a long journey back to the city could look like. As usual, no one asked any probing questions. With all of the details that would have needed explaining, such a lack of outright curiosity was a relief.

Y’shotla let loose the breath (and tension) that she had held practically since the final confrontation with Emet-Selch. The other adults were doing much the same. Lara and Roger’s souls were completely fine, even after all of the damage that had been done from the corruption of Light. No aether leaked from their beings, and the brightness they projected was at far more ordinary levels when it came to the two of them.

(She likened the sudden repair of souls to filling in the cracks of a near-shattered vase with more clay, and fusing with heat.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best of metaphors, but it made the most sense to her.)

Even the Crystal Exarch (now known to the Scions by his true name G’raha Tia) had fully recovered on the journey back. Being this close to the Crystal Tower had turned his sickly pale skin back to its healthy color. His aether was also back to levels that she was far more used to seeing it in him.

She still had many a question about his side of the mess, but an interrogation held when the four youngest members of the group were practically unconscious on their feet would be in poor form. Perhaps she would ask later. When she herself was also less weary.

“We should be off to rest,” Thancred suggested. “Now that we know that there will be a morrow, there’s plenty more we can get up to.” He nodded at Ryne. “Not the least of which is seeing what lies beyond the Flood of Light.”

That snapped the red-haired girl out of her tired daze. “Really? You’re serious?”

He cracked a grin. “Absolutely.”

Just before Ryne could give her quite obvious answer, a hand fell on the girl’s shoulder. She stopped to blink and look towards who the hand was attached. The owner was Lara, looking as if she could sleep for a week. Perhaps she would, if given a chance. Still, she smiled back at Ryne’s confused expression before turning to Thancred with a resolute proclamation. “Actually, Roger and I have plans for Ryne first.”

“You do?” “We do?”

Both Roger and Thancred spoke at the same time, with much the same amount of confusion. The young man clearly hadn’t been paying attention--he was just as tired as his sister, and the sudden talk of plans had left him high and dry. Or so Y’shtola could tell just from watching his expressions change.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the Leveilleur twins and Urianger give each other equally perplexed expressions. G’raha Tia’s ears had lifted up and his head tilted in curiosity. A curious thing, to see his full expression. She made a mental note about it before tuning back into what was happening.

Lara, thankfully, was not so tired as to be impatient with her brother. “Remember the other day when we made plans for a day of just us younger folk?”

Roger still had a blank expression.

“Where we wanted to invite Ryne, Alphie and Ali over to our apartment after...?”

It took a few more seconds than it probably should have, but he eventually snapped out of his fugue state. “OH! THOSE PLANS!” His voice echoed around them as he clamped his mouth shut with his hands. A scarlet blush covered his entire face and Y’shtola could help the chuckle bubbling in her chest. The nicknames and the reaction was just too adorable. She managed to cover her mouth with a hand just in time.

Alisaie was the first to respond. “You seriously had to wait until just after nearly dying for the umpteenth time to invite us over to your place?” Her words and tone were harsh, but the quickly growing smile on her face betrayed how pleased she was at the prospect. “You’re not even going to sleep first?”

“To be clear,” Lara held up a finger with the hand not currently on the utterly shocked Ryne’s shoulder. “This invitation is for at least the day after tomorrow. When I lay down in my bed later I’m not getting up for a whole day.”

“Hah, I’m already pretty much asleep…” Roger commiserated.

“So.” She turned her attention back to Ryne. “I know you want to explore what’s out in the rest of the world, but I would like to officially invite you to join Alphinaud, Alisaie, Roger and I on a day of nothing in particular but being friends, followed by a sleepover at our apartment. Want to come?”

“When did this turn into a sleepover?” Alisaie mock protested.

Alphinaud was mumbling to himself. A quick readjustment of one of her ears helped Y’shtola hear the quiet words, “I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to a sleepover…”

Ryne’s entire face, along with some of her neck and shoulders, went about as red as her hair. Her voice was about as quiet as when Y’shtola first knew her as Minfilia. “I...um…”

Seeing the girl’s distress, Lara let go of her shoulder and lifted her arms in panicked surrender. “Whoa wait, you don’t need to--that is…” Her eyes darted around, not meeting Ryne’s. “You don’t need to answer right now! I don’t even know when we’ll get to it! Don’t feel obligated to say yes if you don’t want to go!” Her words were turning jumbled and rambly. The tiredness did not help on top of Lara’s natural way of showing nervousness.

“I thinketh that what young Lara means to say is that thine invitation is open regardless of thine answer.” Urianger smoothly inserted his conclusion as the ramble was becoming too high pitched for even Y’shtola to hear. Lara shut her mouth and nodded quickly. “She only wishes to inform that thine company would be most appreciated whilst also enjoying the company of the Leveilleur twins.”

“Wh-what he said. Sort of.” Lara mumbled.

“And perhaps it would be best to ask and answer when all have been well rested.” Y’shtola announced, giving a significant look to Thancred. He at least had the wherewithal to narrow his eyes back at her. “Not to sound like a mother hen, but it’s well past time for all of you to sleep.” she shooed the children off in the direction of the apartments. “Let’s worry about all of this later.”

G’raha Tia cleared his throat, having spent the past conversation nervously running his hands up and down his forearms. “Fully agreed.” He gave a timid smile. The friendliness he was trying to portray was offset by how nearly flat his ears were on top of his head. “Though when plans of any sort have been finalized, I will be full glad to offer any assistance or supplies that the Crystarium can spare.”

“The offer is seconded.” Y’shtola used her Master Matoya voice to make her point. Only the Leveilleur twins seemed to have been listening. It was only a little disappointing.

“W-we should, probably go. Sleep that is.” Lara still wasn’t looking in Ryne’s direction. “We’ll let you know when the sleepover is happening. C’mon, Roger.” She turned and grabbed her brother with one arm. He was so tired that protesting was out of the question.

“We should be heading off ourselves.” Alphinaud yawned. Alisaie rubbed at an eye and nodded sleepily.

“I shall accompany thee.” Urianger volunteered and followed once the twins had set off for their own sleeping quarters.

Thancred waited until Ryne had recovered before gently saying, “Let’s sleep on that, eh? Give yourself some time to think about what you wish to do.”

“Okay…” She mumbled. Satisfied, he walked ahead while the girl kept a somewhat slower pace. It looked as if she had been handled an overly difficult puzzle to work through. Y’shtola hoped that the rest would help her.

Then it was herself and the Crystal Exarch. His ears were still fairly flat, but they lifted a little as he smiled at her. “I suppose I should bid you goodnight, Y’shtola.”

Instead of returning the farewell, she responded, “You’re no longer obligated to keep the Warriors of Darkness at arm’s length anymore, you know.”

His ears rose as high as they could before falling back even flatter than before. G’raha Tia clutched his staff closer to him, as if anticipating an attack. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” The lie was as obvious as the white in his red hair or the nose on his face. She kept her eye roll to herself.

“If that’s what you wish to tell yourself, then fine. Just replay this scene in your memory when you try to put Roger and Lara on your high pedestal again.” She turned a heel towards the aetheryte. “Blessed night, Exarch.”

She didn’t have to look to know that he was staring at her until the light of the crystal carried her off back to Slitherbough.

-----

Y’shtola didn’t hear much about the slumber party until a while afterword. All of the participants had kept most of the details close to their chest. She didn’t blame them. The whole point of the endeavor was to spend time away from the adults, and divulging would have been against the point.

Still, she managed to glean some information.

Ryne had decided to join. Her reaction had come from being overwhelmed by both the trip that Thancred had suggested and Lara’s invitation. It made sense. The poor girl had been raised as a weapon and a tool. Family and friends hadn’t been a part of her life until very recently. Having a choice between one or the other? Utterly mind-boggling. Thankfully (and wisely) Thancred had postponed their plans to travel past the Flood of Light til after the slumber party.

Lara had insisted that it was to be a casual event, and so made certain that armor and weapons were put away the entire time. When Ryne had brought up that she only had the one kind of dress to her name (she had several copies in case of damage), apparently Lara had balked and then let the girl have a set of her own clothes that she hardly wore anymore. Y’shtola, under the guise of needing to secure supplies from the Crystarium, had even witnessed the girl wearing it. If one wasn’t aware of Ryne’s status as the Oracle of Light, they would know it instantly from how much joy she was radiating at that moment.

More details had yet to be uncovered by her, but the next day after the slumber party all five of the young people sported changed hairstyles that went back to normal far too soon for Y’shtola’s liking.

Other than the obvious moral increase in the young ones, a secondary positive effect happened thanks to that night. After having the Scions meet up with the Exarch for a standard extolling of information, he asked Roger and Lara to stay behind. Y’shtola wasn’t so untactful to stay behind and listen...but if she lingered but a moment as the door shut behind her and so happen to overhear G’raha Tia start to apologise to the both of them, then it was a happy coincidence that such a thing had occurred.

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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faelune-home · 3 years

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(fanfic) “how the guiding light wavers”

(A/N: I’ve had this in the works for a few weeks now. I first brought it up in this long post I wrote to establish character stuff, but this is the work that will finally make me feel a bit more secure in writing for my miqo’te girl. I’m aware it all sounds convoluted and bizarre to fixate on a name like this, but it was something that bothered me, and I’m the one actually doing the writing for my own character, so I do hope that this fic finally makes writing easier.

But alongside the name stuff, it’s also a larger look at where Fhara is emotionally throughout Shadowbringers I suppose. A little bit of where she’s come from and where she’s been so far and where she stands before entering Endwalker, so there’s at least a little bit more to this fic than just name shenanigans. XD

Name shenanigans and heroic title woes and legacy musings. All wrapped up in a complicated bow. Aha. I’ll probably do more Scion interaction focused additions on Fhara’s woes and worries later, especially since I had some in the original fic only to remove them as it was getting way too wordy, but this is the main meat of those feelings here and now.

Strong spoilers for the ending Stormblood patches and Shadowbringers, more so 5.0 and then just fleeting mentions of patch stuff. Set after 5.3.

Word count: 4760

Ao3 link)

When she set out from her home for Eorzea’s shores, she had a goal; to become a hero, and make her name known across the world. To be known as someone great and powerful, with monsters big and small bested at her hand, yet also someone kind and helpful, saving people and making their life a little bit easier. A lofty goal, but one she figured could be done, one small step at a time. After all, every adventurer started small.

Little did she know that her forays in Eorzea would grant her her desires, at a much faster rate than she anticipated; she joined the Scions, with their close ties to the city leaders and their own aims to protect the realm, and in gaining a reputation as a primal slayer, became known as a fabled Warrior of Light. A type of hero normally assigned to legend. It was everything she could have wanted and maybe even more than she could handle. It was a heavy title, but one she wore proudly, all while continuing as she had originally planned.

Yet as time passed, the weight grew heavier. There was still pride and joy in doing the right thing for the sake of others, protecting the innocent from those that would do them harm, but at some point, in the midst of the fighting, torn between Ascians and the Empire, despite doing the same thing she always did, her thoughts would wander to her original purpose in undertaking this grand adventure.

To become a figure of whom stories would be told, for those stories to return to her home and inspire the younger children, much like the old tales had inspired herself. To teach them to do good, to do better, to help others, to be brave, to be kind. An idealistic idea but one she held fast to. And by all accounts, fighting under the Warrior of Light title aided her even further in another aspect of her plans; to allow her to step back from the world once all is done and know peace when she hung up her bow and settled down.

When she set out from her home, she was ‘Fufu’; an old childhood nickname she’d long outgrown in her village, with the exception of her aunt, repurposed for her heroic exploits until the Warrior of Light title seemed to do the job better. Then in Eorzea, in the comfort of those she came to call a second family, she could be Fhara again. And it was nice, comforting even. To know that others knew her as more than just her heroic title, and that the Rising Stones could feel like a home so far away from home.

A home that was always filled with the sound of laughter or chatter, always someone socialising with a friend or partner, or busy working, the Rising Stones had all the energy and joy within its walls that she knew from her home, even with all the group had been through. To find that joy stripped out, the halls empty of people as her dearest friends collapsed into lifelessness and everyone else was left to fill in for their missing teammates…

For Fhara, it left her with no-one. But the Warrior of Light still had work to do.

The Warrior of Light had faced down conquerors, defeated dragons, set free thousands from the shackles of tyranny. But Fhara had never been alone in her feats, always with her companions at her side, or standing strong behind her, keeping the way clear for her, ready to back her up.

The Warrior of Light would go on to face Zenos that day in Ghimlyt Dark, the whispered tales from young inexperienced soldiers speaking how she almost pushed him back single handedly, with the famed Azure Dragoon jumping into the fray to assist her. In truth, Fhara stood alone on that battle field, facing a barely weakened, Ascian possessed corpse, the collapsed figures of her resistance comrades strewn behind her, she kept going until she herself blacked out under mysterious circumstances, only surviving by Estinien’s timely arrival.

Her recovery in Ishgard started her thinking, mixed in with the anxious waves of the mysterious caller’s words. The Warrior of Light would ever be revered for their acts, but as a single entity. Whereas Fhara, while capable on her own, worked best with a team, with her friends by her side. Working out a plan of attack together, or simply knowing they were there with her gave her strength. Yet standing on the field that day, the only thing giving her the strength to fight on was the desire to protect others, for if the Ascian controlling the fallen crown prince made it past her, Eorzea would no doubt suffer.

Then a stray thought...what gave her the strength to start doing all of this in the first place? What was her drive to begin with? It seemed so long ago…

‘Fufu’ had come all the many malms from a small village on the outskirts of Thavnair to become a hero, one that would have bard songs made about her for the sake of children’s tales. But the Warrior of Light had ultimately taken on that role. So what was the point of continuing to call herself ‘Fufu’ to the public? Was it just a habit by that point? A desire to hide herself behind an identity that both was and wasn’t her? After all, it was a nickname that had long been associated with her, and in the absence of any other ideas for an alias to call herself - oft teased as she was for her poor imagination for naming things - she had fallen to the easiest idea of her old childhood moniker.

Maybe it was time to move on from such childish notions? Her thoughts were neither bitter nor certain. The questions merely buzzed in her head as she left them unanswered.

She left the city with her golden hair cropped, a request asked of Jandelaine, met in passing before she left Ishgard behind her.

“It is a shame,” he’d said at the sight of her shorn twintail, the other loose from the hair tie, matted with blood and dirt, “But I can tidy it up and it’s like it never happened. A return to beauty and grace, just say the word.”

She could’ve kept it the same, and continued on as normal. But instead it was all gone. Because maybe a fresh start was what she needed?

~*~*~

The First was not a fresh start. At least not one Fhara was expecting. A land on the cusp of destruction, perpetually bathed in an unnatural eerie light, the people hunted by Sin Eaters, suffering either death or a torturous transformation in turn. She very quickly learned how terrifying, how desolate some corners of the land of Norvrandt could be, and she could well understand why, if people were living in such conditions.

Her first port of call in the strange new land was the oddly familiar gleaming tower, a recognisable pillar even against the hazy glowing sky. And within was the enigmatic Crystal Exarch, ready to greet her with open arms.

She had mixed feelings about the Exarch, on many points; having Called her friends and left their lifeless bodies back on the Source in an uncertain state, or even that Calling them was an accident in itself, since she herself was meant to be the target gave her no end of frustration toward the man. Even then with the knowledge that he hadn’t intended to summon the other Scions, the idea that he had wanted her to act alone in saving the First was one Fhara couldn’t help but balk at.

Of course she was willing to help, she couldn’t stand seeing people suffer while she knew she could do something. But to think she would be able to handle the work singlehandedly was pure folly. In that way, perhaps it was a small relief then that she had the Scions to help her, unintentional was their presence on the First. Even with the uncertainty surrounding their summoning and the state of their separated selves, she at least had her friends and teammates with her.

However it was his first impression beyond his summoning mishaps that stuck with Fhara and kept her uneasy around the man; no sooner had she arrived at the gate, he had welcomed her past his wary gate guard, quick to introduce her and settle her into the Crystarium. A warm welcome for sure, and not one she was ungrateful for, however the mix of familiar and unfamiliar in the man’s demeanor made her cautious.

That he knew her so well, so casually referred to her as ‘Fufu’ before she had even introduced herself, how comfortable he seemed while using it - hand waved away as him learning it from old records stored within the Tower, a name used in tandem with the Warrior of Light title, although it reignited her recent troubled thoughts on her public identity - while she knew nothing about him, that not even his own people could say much of him did nothing to ease her. Every factor together had her wanting to keep the Exarch at arms length. She would do as he asked - save the First, bring back the Light, prevent another Calamity from decimating the Source - and in return, he would return her friends’ home. That was all that was needed.

Of course, things would never be that simple.

In a land ravaged by Light for 100 years, a Warrior of Light was considered a heathen, a villain that had doomed them all. Instead, the people hoped and prayed for a Warrior of Darkness to be their hero. And so Fhara, with the starlit sky returning in the wake of her arrival, would become that hero.

Fhara didn’t want to say she hated it, however the dizzying speed with which the title and the stories spread was a shock to the system, moving even quicker than her reputation as the Warrior of Light had grown on the Source. She couldn’t blame the people for their enthusiasm, especially when the hero of legend’s arrival coincided with the return of the night after a century without.

She didn’t hate it. But she found herself seeking the comfort of her closest friends more often than she used to before. She knew they weren’t looking at a grand hero, but just Fhara, who stood up to answer the call. And they stood with her. As the days would pass on the First, rarely was she without a Scion by her side, only truly left alone in the comfort of her inn room, and even then, the wayward spirit of Ardbert was a presence she didn’t resent.

The days would pass, and the night returned across the land, and beyond the walls of the Crystarium, away from the crowds of people that would revere a hero, through pixie flower beds and dense forests ever shaded from the skies, and into desert ruins of a civilisation long lost-

“Welcome aboard, Ryne.”

Fhara had seen the young Oracle struggle under the weight of her legacy, the expectations of her duty to protect and act as a beacon of hope for the people of Norvrandt, while also living in Minfilia’s shadow by virtue of her name and powers. Fhara could empathise with the young girl, having long known the feeling of so many people relying on her and her own more recent doubts that she could live up to those hopes. She kept trying all the same, as she knew the Oracle would as well, for it wasn’t in Fhara’s nature to give up if she could do something.

But now, seeing the newly christened Ryne standing with a fresh air of confidence about her, her only nerves being about doing a good job for the sake of the team and helping relinquish Amh Araeng from the grip of the Light, Fhara was proud of the girl for her new lease on life.

Yet also a tiny bit jealous, that all it took was a name and a declaration to do better by herself for the girl to suddenly be brimming with courage, whereas Fhara fretted and frayed and languished under a gifted moniker, calling herself by her childhood name and then acting as though it were her only option, that she had no other choice...but was it always that simple? To just announce to the world you could be born anew yet still the same person?

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly the solution Fhara was looking for, but it was an idea towards a resolution for her woes. After all, she wasn’t trying to begin fresh like Ryne, Fhara just wanted to be Fhara, as she always had been. It was just trying to express that to the world at large.

It was only when the Light she had been capturing within herself finally overpowered her and left her weakened and stumbling, sitting at death’s door, did it finally seem to become clear to her. So rarely before had she gotten so close to death that she had never thought so closely about what she would leave behind, or who would remember her and how. The people of Norvrandt knew the Warrior of Darkness, Eorzea knew the Warrior of Light and the Scions knew Fhara. And if she died that day that would be the memory she would leave behind.

Yet she realised, lying in her inn room, she didn’t want to just be remembered as a hero under a title, or by a name that most of her nearest and dearest scarcely used. She wanted to be remembered as Fhara, at least if it were possible.

She’d certainly made the attempt to introduce herself as such during their travels across the realm, but with how quickly people came to know her as the Warrior of Darkness, she feared that her attempts were being drowned out. However before their ascent of Mt Gulg, as the crowds gathered from across the land to assist them, she found that they knew her as Fhara, and they would talk to her, and they wished all the Scions the best of luck. And among a small few, the Warrior of Darkness was not a title solely attributed to her, but to all of her friends.

It was nice. A reassuring gesture that her efforts were noticed. Even as she stumbled her way to the deepest depths of the seas in pursuit of Emet-Selch - keenly aware that if she failed, she would be dooming the First and her fellow Scions along with her - she held onto that knowledge. After all her worries, it was an odd source of courage for her, bolstered by her desire to survive, and the understanding that she wasn’t alone in her duty.

Altogether her feelings gathered, and in the face of death and her desperate wish to live, and her wish to be known for more than her heroic tales, she made her decision. She’d never been afraid to make the first step before, not even into the unknown. She’d come all the way to Eorzea on a whim and a want, and faced almighty foes more powerful than herself with nothing more than the determination to protect those that could not fight back.

If she lived through this fight, she would cast aside her anxieties, and take that first step again.

~*~*~

Fhara wasn’t the type to call meetings, she was the type to attend someone else’s meeting. And yet the majority Scions were gathered in the Rising Stones, with the miqo’te standing at the head of the pack, nervously shuffling her feet. What few Scions that weren’t accounted for were assured to be updated afterward.

She ran her fingers through her hair, no doubt to calm some nerves, although the action drew the attentions of the group members that had only seen her sparingly during her otherworldly adventures; since last they had seen her, she’d left for the Crystal Tower with a short crop, still wearing her tattered and torn bard coat, an uneasy smile on her face as though more to reassure those around her than because she genuinely felt like her hopeful self. Yet each time she returned to report to Tataru with updates, she was a brighter figure, with a spring in her step as she relayed the progress on the First, and her hair would grow out slowly to the feathered bob she now wore. It wasn’t quite the cute twintails they’d known her for when they joined, but she looked all the more confident nowadays with it.

She finally started, with a loud voice, albeit one that cracked as though there was still some anxiety holding her back, “I have something I want to say. Something I’ve been thinking about for a long while now and that I want to be clear on moving forward.”

Any mumbling between parties silenced immediately. Fhara’s tail flicked at the now heavy hush, however some encouraging gestures from the figures at the front most row - some few nods and a thumbs up here and there - allowed her to continue, “Thank you for being here. Truthfully, some people here already know what I’m gonna talk about. But I’d rather make it clear to everyone now. This whole thing might sound rather silly to some people, that I’m worrying over nothing. Some of you might even say that if it means so much to me, then it’s not such a trivial thing. And I appreciate that, I do.”

She hesitated, ears suddenly flattening. “To cut out a long story, when I came to Eorzea, and when I joined the Scions and became known as the Warrior of Light, I told everyone here they could call me Fhara. It’s who I am after all. But outside where people would know the Warrior of Light better, then they should call me ‘Fufu’. That’s still technically me, it's an old name I was called as a child. And it’s the name I chose for travelling because...I suppose the easiest way to put it is that I wanted to separate my private life, if I ever chose to return home, from my adventure life. But lately with everything that happened and with a lot of the dangers getting so much bigger than even the Warrior of Light I just started to worry about who I really was and what I was doing.”

“Like how? You seem the same to me?” Aenor spoke up, ignoring the disapproving nudge from her frowning sister.

“I mean, I hope I do,” Fhara smiled, although it was more wistful looking than pleasant, “I never tried to pretend to be someone I’m not, no matter where I was or who I was with, or what name people called me. But I started thinking I was getting lost with myself, like people were seeing two different people with me.” Her tail flicked again. “I should say now, I don’t hate being the Warrior of Light. A lot of people try to project that I’m frustrated with it or that I could be doing better with a title like that, but none of that is true. I don’t hate it. But it’s hard. People have big hopes and expectations for me when they treat me like that, and I’ll always try to reach them, but it’s not always easy to do alone. So truly, I’m forever grateful to have you all with me at my side.”

Casting a glance over the Archons and the twins, Fhara continued, her voice somehow smaller, “But when the Callings happened, and then everyone else here was stretched to take over the work, and this place was left empty so much, I...well, as senseless as it might sound, I felt alone. But I still had a job to do, but doing it alone was hard. Because everyone else knew this brave warrior that could handle anything, and I didn’t feel like that at all.” The quiet admission brought about guilty whispering rippling through the group, until a sharp cough from F’lhaminn hushed them again.

“T’was never our intent to make you feel as though you had no-one to lean on,” the older woman said, “Especially during such a time when our own were falling out of commission. But then it was precisely such a time that we all struggled to balance the work that needed to be done, and to fill the gaps left behind. If that struggle left you without support, then that would be our failing, and for that we would owe you our sincerest apologies.” The mumblings rose once more, letting out a small chorus of “sorry”s and “‘pologies”.

Fhara gave the woman a grateful nod then added, “I understand, I do. And I didn’t say that to call out anyone here, but I won’t deny that a lot of people across the realm talk about me in such grand ways because of the work and feats I’ve done, and it’s hard to feel like I’ve lived up to their stories. In that sense, being on the First kind of helped; it was a fresh start where I could try again to do the hero thing, but in a lot of ways, it wasn’t, because the same thing that happened here on the Source happened there. People needed a hero, someone to help them, and I just became the Warrior of Darkness to answer that need, and that’s what most people knew me as. But it still gave me a chance to try and start afresh with myself, and now I feel better about where I stand. And I want to bring that feeling and those certainties back here.”

She didn’t mention Azem. Though the suggestion that Fhara may be related in some way to that Ancient had brought her more hazy feelings, she had insisted that none of that mattered. The final insistence had brought her here now, to her certain decision. She was herself, and she didn’t have to worry about being anything more.

She let in a deep breath, steeling herself as she said, “The Warrior of Light is here to stay and she’s the one that will go down in history, and I can’t change that. Not everyone in the world will know the real me beyond the heroes tales, and I can accept that. But at least on some level, I can try to let them understand me. And that can start with a name. A name can be lost to time, so I get that people in the future will never know Fhara. But the people here and now can, and that’s all I want.”

With a final, certain nod, she declared, “So from now on, I’m Fhara. Not just inside these walls, but outside them as well. It took a lot more words to say that than it probably should have, but I hope you all understand it now.” Uncertain of how to finish her speech, she took the skirt of her purple dress, already wrung tight by her nervous hands, and gave a bow. There wasn’t an immediate response. It took another glance at the twins next to her, giving her comforting looks to ease the tension in her shoulders, until another voice spoke out from behind the group.

“‘At was a lot of words to get the message out, but it looks here that it meant a lot to ye to make it sure as sure fer us lot,” the crowd parted, and Riol nodded, looking satisfied, “I think I’ll speak fer us all when I say message received loud and clear.” Fhara’s eyes started to water as she looked around to assurances and smiles, and possibly unnecessary cheers from what sounded like one of the Boulder brothers, but it was acceptance nonetheless.

“Thank you,” she sniffed, trying not to actually cry, rubbing at her face, “I mean it. This all probably sounds really ridiculous and I’m overthinking everything but-”

“There shall be none of that,” Y’shtola interrupted, “None of that self-doubt at least. We’re here for you no matter what decision you wish to make for yourself. You of all people deserve the support, and we are all the more glad to provide it.”

Fhara’s ‘Thank you’ caught in her throat, all she could do was nod. The larger group dispersed, individuals coming up to give her more reassurances and words of comfort as they passed before continuing on to their work. Urianger took G’raha aside for a word, both men departing to Dawn’s Respite, leaving the rest of the archons and the twins by Tataru’s desk with Fhara.

“So that’ll be a weight off your shoulders then?” Alisaie asked. Fhara nodded, letting out a heavy breath and slumping forward with the effort.

“I was more nervous for that than I thought, and it was just in front of the other Scions. But I’m glad. I feel like that is a step towards feeling more like myself, even if I never really strayed from that in the first place...I think.”

Thancred let out a thoughtful hum, looking over her suddenly tired frame. “I’ll say you never changed much, but I can see the ease it’s brought you now. Although if this is you after telling people that knew your little secret, how will you be with others, I wonder?” He ignored the peeved expression from Alisaie next to him as he brought it up, especially when Fhara’s face became a picture of concern.

“Oh, we’ll probably have to tell the Alliance leaders. Or do we? Is this an official thing I have to report on? Is there a process for this?” Fhara asked, eyebrows furrowing. Was there more work needed in this decision that she hadn’t thought of? Was there paperwork?

“Not to worry, I can get some official missives written up and shipped out in a jiffy,” Tataru stated, giving Fhara a bright smile and a thumbs up. Fhara returned it with a relieved look of her own, and the receptionist hopped onto her chair and set to work.

“Honestly, knowing diplomatic types, we could just use your name normally as though it's always been used, and rather than risk a faux pas, the Alliance leaders would just go along with it anyways,” Alisaie suggested with a wry smile.

Alphinaud shook his head at the suggestion. “While I don’t doubt that that is possible, sister, I would prefer if we erred on the safe side and actually updated the Alliance. We don’t have to make a large fuss over the matter for Fhara’s sake, but at least informing them of the change would be better for the Scions’ standing with them in terms of open communication.”

Alisaie rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Of course, brother.”

“At the very least, Lyse is already familiar with you personally,” Y’shtola said, addressing Fhara once more, “Even should the rest of the Alliance falter or take time to adjust, she would be able to take charge on the matter and make the adjustment easier for all. You needn’t worry about being left alone to handle this.”

“Yes, that’ll help,” Fhara smiled, however her eyes then dropped to the floor, a worrisome look on her face once more.

“Thinking now about how many people I’d need to update or inform, it feels daunting already. I’m questioning now why I thought the whole alias thing would be a good idea.”

“Really now, it’s beginning to sound like you’re thinking of telling the whole realm. You’re going to worry yourself like that,” Alisaie huffed. However she then added with a softer tone, “You said it yourself that you won’t be able to change everyone’s perception of you. Many will know the Warrior of Light, and some few will know Fufu. The odds of you coming across every familiar face you’ve ever known after this will be slim. But if it does happen, you don’t have to explain yourself in any great detail. All anyone needs to know now is that you’re just Fhara.”

The words, simple as they were, brought a warmth to her chest. And surrounded by her closest friends, those that had been with her for most of her journey and through thick and thin, the idea of continuing on into the unknown ahead of them didn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“Just Fhara...I like that.”

And that was all she needed.

#My writing #ffxiv fanfic #fufu faelune #fhara laali #my wol #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #stormblood #Shadowbringers #fanfiction #ffxiv writing #how do titles work #fic titles i mean #i mused real hard for this one ahaha

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chrysaint · 3 years

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FFXIV Shadowbringer Flavor Text from background NPC’s

Main Story Quest: Word from On High Location: The Crystarium, The Bridges, Fort Jobb, Radisca’s Round, The Ostall Imperative Excluding NPC’s locked behind side Quests

Just scripts from NPC’s that say something different during certain points of MSQ. Notable amount of non-interactive NPC’s are gone, some NPC’s who said nothing different before are now say something different after previous quest. https://ffxiv.gamerescape.com/wiki/Word_from_On_High

The Crystarium Katliss: We're mustering up all the resources we can to provide relief to our citizens. If there's something you need, just let me know.

Cassard: I saw you, Naonori─saw you fighting the eaters on the front lines. That was impressive stuff.

Irill: I have not been able to stop second-guessing myself since the battle. If only we had been quicker to send supplies, how many more lives could have been saved? I suppose I should take solace that we were able to do anything at all, but that is easier said than done...

Thickeman: You are safe!? Thank the gods! If you are injured, make for Spagyrics at once! The chirurgeons there will see to your wounds.

Rosard: All of our vaunted weaponry, and still we suffered the casualties we did. The sin eaters are a frightening foe indeed...

Valthewyl: I've never seen a sin eater attack of this scale! Medicine, bandages...we are running out of anything and everything at an alarming rate! Gods have mercy...

Emythia: Those who were wounded battling the sin eaters always beg for us to put them out of their misery before they hurt anyone. You can see it in their eyes that they don't want to die, and yet─ Damn it all! If only there was more I could do for them...

Fae-Hann: There are so many wounded that it will be a miracle if we manage to treat them all with so few staff...but it's a miracle we'll need to make happen.

Chessamile: Oh dear, we've never seen so many sin eaters before... We must make ready to receive the wounded.

Wounded Guard: I-I'm all right, I think. My injuries have been tended to.

Lesthil: I am heartened to see you return, friend. Thanks to the bravery and resilience of my comrades, we, too, live to fight another day.

Bethard: I do hope that the wounded make a swift recovery. There were so many... But fretting over it will avail us naught. What might I do for you?

Bragi: Medical supplies are selling as soon as we stock them, but the shelves are still heavy with foodstuffs and clothing. So many who won't be coming home...

Julstan: Lakeland suffered great casualties in the battle. I may be a merchant, but profit is the last thing on my mind at a time like this. I only want to do everything in my power to get the suffering the supplies they need.

Sylgham: Nothing weighs quite so heavy on the heart as cleaning the rooms of those we lost. I see their smiling faces in my mind's eye, and it is all I can do to hold back the tears...

Armilla: Whatever will become of us? My poor little girl...

Heggie: The sin eaters scare me to the depths of my soul. They show no capacity for reason, for mercy... They come, and they take everything from us. Oh, whatever can we do?

Lobarth: My father is big and strong! He fights for the guard! Or at least...he did. They told me he got hurt in the battle, and now he's resting at some place whose name I can't pronounce. They won't even let me visit him. I hope he comes back soon...

Dawkes: The immediate danger has passed, but I fear the future may only hold worse. We have lost too many good men and women today, and there is no telling what action Eulmore will take next.

Glynard: Things seem to have calmed down with the eaters, so the Stairs is back to business as usual. Why don't you stay and have a pint, if you're not too busy?

Leweralth: It was you and your companions who led the defense of the city, yes? I cannot begin to express my gratitude!

Gracine: This is no time for small talk! I must prepare the emergency foodstuffs for shipment at once!

Astrille: I saw you assist the Exarch in erecting the barrier that warded off the sin eaters. I cannot thank you enough for saving our lives.

Szem Djenmai: We witnessed your bravery, Naonori. Full many citizens are alive now thanks to your swift actions. You have our gratitude.

Melboth: Reading these records, one can see the sheer scope of the casualties and damage we have suffered. It is demoralizing, to say the least.

Ilsgor: These are grim times we're living in. And of all the days not to be able to find my what-do-you-call-it! Have you seen it anywhere? You know what I mean!

Leinneil: Improving cultivars for more efficient healing is a time-consuming task. I only wish there was more I could do to be of assistance at times like these...

Evelie: We have already mixed one batch of medicine to deliver to Spagyrics, and are currently in the process of making another. Leave it to us!

Mao-Ladd: I'm working to improve the strains of fruit we grow. There's nothing like a sweet and succulent morsel to lift the people's spirits.

Uilmet: How kind of you to come and check on our safety. We are fine, thanks to the brave men and women who protected us. As a show of gratitude, we're growing a veritable feast of fresh veggies!

Yalard: It is good to see you safe, traveler. When you stopped showing up for a while, I had feared the sin eaters got you.

Moren: We are fortunate that those who came before us had the foresight to record not only their triumphs, but their failures as well. Will you take advantage of their woeful experience...?

The Bridges Philard: Though we survived the battle, our supply shortage has reached a critical level. I have put in an order to the Crystarium, but with all of our outposts reeling, I fear that there is not much they will be able to do for us...

Shira-Kee: We escaped serious casualties in the sin eater onslaught, and suffer only from a shortage of supplies. From what I hear, the other outposts were not nearly so lucky.

Nanard: Much as expected, few sin eaters so much as attempted to breach the Bridges, and we suffered no real casualties. This is small solace, however, knowing what happened to so many of our brothers- and sisters-in-arms.

Fort Jobb Ilthri: The last sin eater attack was more costly than we could have ever imagined, and we now face a dangerous shortage of both manpower and supplies. We must restock and rebuild our numbers, and we must do it with all speed.

Bjorn: We lost a lot of men back there. Too many. But it would have been far more if you hadn't been there.

Grimcogg: Oh, it's─ It's you! I-I'm fine, thank you! Well, not fine, really, seeing as practically everyone's wounded and we barely have any medical supplies left, but...er, how are you?

Chathwick: We are living in turbulent times, but the men under my command bravely soldier on. I have my own anxieties and doubts, but I dare not show them. No, I must remain a pillar of strength for all those I lead.

Fernwren: You, too, fought in the battle against the sin eater horde, did you not? We are fortunate to be alive today, my friend.

Rae-Satt: I was fortunate to survive the sin eater onslaught, but many of the wounded I carried through these doors haven't been so lucky...

Lamlyn: I fear we suffered great casualties in the battle with the sin eaters. Countless wounded have been carried here...many of them on amaro. Oh, how I adore those glorious and heroic beasts!

Radisca’s Round Roi-Tatch: Since the recent sin eater attack, all of our outposts are suffering from shortages of supplies. We have the goods here, but with the roads as perilous as they are, delivering them is another story.

Kristinn: Heh...got pretty scratched up out there, but I'm still standing! I can't very well die now─not with the return of the night, and history being made right before our eyes!

Lewto-Sai: Lost one of my men to the sin eaters. They never even found the body. The hardest part is not even being able to say a proper good-bye...

Varlier: I lost more than a few of my longtime friends and companions in the battle. Yet all I can do is pray that their souls find peace, and fight on so that their sacrifice will not be in vain...

Menther: We suffered great losses in the battle against the sin eater horde, in manpower and supplies both. It will not be easy to rebuild and restock our resources, but we must do what we can. Anyhow, what might I do for you?

Mynes: If we had better anticipated the sin eater onslaught, we might have escaped with fewer casualties. We must be ever more vigilant...and yet, we find ourselves more undermanned than ever.

Bjarni: I've never seen anyone fight the way you did, traveler. It was fortunate for us that you came along when you did. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'd be standing here right now.

The Ostall Imperative Chadine: The sin eater onslaught claimed more than a few of my companions. Sometimes it is hard for me to accept that I am still here, and they are not. But I must soldier on and serve as best I can.

Szeli Vantheu: Those wretched sin eaters... Not even the amaro were spared their cruelty.

Atli: I've lost count of how many good men and women I've lost to the sin eaters. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it never gets easier...

Mosanilde: I hear that while our forces were occupied with staving off the sin eaters, a friend of the Exarch's helped to shepherd the civilians to safety. Whoever it was, I only wish I could meet them face-to-face to express my gratitude.

Seanric: Oh gods, what are we going to do!? We've fought sin eaters before, but never this many!

Tao-Tistt: We've fought back no end of sin eater attacks, but each one leaves us more depleted than the last. If they keep coming at us with such force, I fear we will not be able to hold out much longer...

Seanard: We opened the castle to house the first wave of civilian refugees during the sin eater attack. As they have many times before, the doors stood strong against even the most vicious foe. Those who fled here later we were forced to shelter at Wolves of Shadow. We could not risk opening these doors in the clear view of the enemy.

Teanna: The recent battle thinned our numbers considerably. While we are in no danger of a food and supply shortage, needless to say, I can take little comfort in this...

Cassfort: When the sin eaters attacked, I was tasked with protecting the lookouts atop the castle. As it turns out, few of them paid us any mind. I reckon my halberd would have better served us down below.

Merlath: We were able to spot the sin eaters approaching, but even then... Well, you know how things went. Updating Side Quest Completed NPC’s Pitrig: To think that all of Lakeland would be the target of an attack of that scale... And yet, the barrier will keep us safe. We must do what we can to ensure that our residents stay calm in this time of crisis.

-- After Completing, the Quest NPC’s dialogue changed

Anguished Guard: Mother... I don't want to die... Trembling Guard: I can't... I can't... Dying Guard: <wheeze>

#FFXIV #Shadowbringers Spoiler #FFXIV Flavor Text

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shardweavers · 4 years

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Chapter Five - Questions

Squawk...

Shoto's ears twitched at the sound from above. Yuki blinked, then looked around for the source of the noise. Sumire had drawn his weapon and looked ready to fight. Ice blinked, as the sound had been odd, and Angel took a moment to realize something had happened; his thoughts still suck on the prior conversation. Shoto focused, then turned her gaze upward to the darkness of the vaulted ceiling; she was sure the sound had come from above. A moment later, she spotted it: a mass falling swiftly towards the floor. Her instincts kicked in, and she sprinted off as soon as she'd shoved her cup into Angel's hands; too quickly for him to realize what was going on. He shoved the last of his donut into his mouth to free his other hand for her teacup, but fumbled and missed it. Ice quickly caught the cup and saucer before it could fall to the floor, then looked to Shoto. Angel looked relieved, then finally noticed the falling mass as well... some sort of bird...?

Shoto reached out to catch the bird just before it could impact the floor; a grey-blue one, of medium size. It wasn't very heavy as it lay curled in her arms. The female Miqo'te slid to a stop, then turned back to the group with a confused look on her face. She had seen this kind of bird at least once before... in Kholusia.

"It's," she frowned as she looked down, "It's a shoebill." The healer in her instantly knew something was wrong. The Exarch blinked, then looked up to the ceiling for a moment. He tilted his head thoughtfully, as he looked back to the bird Shoto had caught.

'A bird that large certainly would have gotten my attention,' he looked over to Angel, as the White Mage carefully added his own empty teacup to the pile that Ice now held, then hurried to Shoto's side. The Exarch sighed quietly, then shook his head a little, 'I'm probably just being overly cautious... Lyna would certainly tease me for being so on edge over a bird.'

"It seems badly hurt," Angel frowned, and flicked his ears worriedly. Shoto nodded, then focused for a moment. She ran her aether over the bird's form, but all she could tell from a quick survey was that it had pretty bad internal injuries. She'd have to focus further if she wanted to fix it, and that might be better suited to her room rather than the Ocular. Shoto stopped her aether, then looked over to Angel.

"The poor thing is definitely wounded," she looked down to the bird again, "It must have flown into the Tower to seek shelter." Angel worriedly nodded in response, then the two healers headed back to rejoin the others. Shoto carefully cradled the bird in her arms as she stopped beside Ice.

"Is it dead?" The Warrior asked curiously, focused mostly on the bird.

"No," Shoto shook her head, "but it's definitely in very poor shape." She turned to look at the Exarch; Shoto was very much the archetypal healer, and was always eager to help if she could. Her tail curled happily as she thought of helping this bird fly again, "If it's alright, I'd like to take it with me back to my room at the Pendants. Maybe I can help mend it enough that I can get it flying again." Eos and Selene instantly appeared at the mention of mending the bird, then swirled around her excitedly. Shoto sighed softly, and said, "Not now, you two," which made the two fairies pout slightly, then immediately re-dismiss themselves. The Scholar then beamed a smile to the Exarch and hoped it would be okay. The Exarch seemed thoughtful as he stared at the bird for the moment.

Emet-Selch; or rather, the shoebill; waited for the pain of impact. He drifted in and out as he desperately tried to stay conscious. He didn't immediately realize that he wasn't still falling. It felt warm, like he was being held aloft. Only then did he realize his body wasn't still moving. He partly opened one eye to see the dark-haired, female Miqo'te looking right back at him. He was indeed being held... it was none other than her. The momentary silence was then broken by the Exarch's answer to Shoto's request; at which she looked up from him, to the red-haired Seeker.

"I don't see the problem with it. Just be careful, okay? Injured animals can be dangerous if they get frightened," he held up a finger to make a point, "If you should need any sort of medicine or require further assistance, I'm certain you can ask Chessamile in Spagyrics." He looked up to the ceiling again, thoughtfully, "I just hope there aren't more of his flock injured somewhere."

"Thank you," Shoto nodded excitedly, then looked back to the bird at the mention of assistance from Chessamile. She wasn't as sure about herbal remedies, so she just may seek her advice later. Angel took a half-step forward, then curled the tip of his tail as he looked at Shoto; he had a very similar desire to help out however he could.

"I-I'd like to help too, if you need me, Shoto," he looked to the bird, as Yuki shook her head.

"Must you two always be the ones volunteering to help those in need?" She looked over at Sumire, "Is this just a healer thing?" The purple-haired Miqo'te just replied with a laugh and a slight shrug.

"It's just," Angel shook his head, "it feels like a bad injury," he ignored Yuki's comments, then looked back to Shoto, "Though, I could be misjudging how bad, since it was just a quick glance." He paused, his ears flicked, and a quiet, nervous purr escaped his throat. Ice put a hand on his husband's head to settle his worried thoughts.

Sumire stretched, "I'm sure it's only late afternoon, but we should all probably purchase some supplies from the Markets before it gets too late," he flicked his tail pointedly, "Especially if we're heading out on two separate, long trips."

"Ah, about that," the Exarch took a step forward as he smiled, "I spoke with Bragi earlier when I bought the tea and food. He assured me that you would be welcome at any time to stock up on whatever you may need." He looked to his friends, then the bird. While he had told Lyna to make sure their rooms were ready, he hadn't anticipated the distraction of an injured bird. There would be no harm in waiting until tomorrow to head out. "Perhaps... as late as it has gotten, you should all take your time today, and prepare to head out on your journeys tomorrow morning. Your rooms should already be prepared for you."

"I think taking the rest of the day to prepare is a good plan," Yuki nodded, then looked to Shoto; specifically, the bird in her arms, "Especially with distractions." Her tone wasn't angry, but she'd kept it unclear. Sumire frowned at her, but said nothing about it. Ice's calming presence helped Angel focus. The White Mage still fidgeted a bit nervously, and was still torn on what he should do. He stumbled slightly over his own words, "I-I can... that is... a-afterrr we pick up some... supplies, I can... stop by... to check in? Y-Your rrroom is on the way... to ourrrs," his tail curled.

"That would be great!" Shoto beamed. Ice smiled gently and leaned over to look at Angel.

"You're overthinking it, Love."

Shoto nodded in agreement to Ice, "Sometimes a second opinion is helpful! You should go with Ice to get what you need, and I'll see what I can do in the meantime, okay?" Angel looked a bit relieved that she'd understood his fumbled offer, then nodded in reply; he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. She grinned at him reassuringly, and Ice chuckled at his husband. The Exarch cleared his throat to refocus everyone.

"There's one last thing I wanted to give you before I let you go," he reached into his robes with his crystal hand. He withdrew it a moment later to reveal five small, blue crystal clips in his palm. "With Urianger's help, Beq Lugg and I combined Whisperweeds with small shards of the Tower to create something equivalent to Linkpearls. Although, I couldn't make them quite as small as I wanted to and still allow them to have the range I needed." He stepped forward to allow everyone to take one of the crystal clips as he continued, "Since my assignments are splitting you all up to such distances, I felt it necessary to come up with a way to contact you in case anything happened."

"A way to keep tabs on us, you mean?" Yuki teased as she took one for herself. Sumire grabbed one next, then looked it over to figure out how it was meant to work. The Exarch blushed a little, slightly flustered at Yuki's tease. Angel hopped forward and took two, then handed one to Ice, the other to Shoto; he then took the last one for himself.

"These seem like something the Crystarium Guard could use," Ice commented as he looked over the clip.

The Exarch frowned, "Whisperweeds have a limited range, and require relays among the guards, but they are easily replaced and quicker to distribute. I certainly wish they were much easier to make, but perhaps I can give the plan to Katliss for something more easily mass-produced." He shook his head, "Ah, I'm getting distracted. I have something else I must attend to before I return to work on the vessels. There's not much left in the basket, but you may have anything that's left if you would like."

"What about you, G'raha?" Angel worriedly asked as he held the clip against himself. The Exarch blushed a little, then smiled reassuringly.

"I promise I kept some for myself. I'll have some with another pot of tea this evening before I retire to bed. None of you need worry for me," he flicked his ears slightly, then gave a slight bow. "You're free to go now, my friends. I will speak with you on the morrow, unless something should arise."

The Exarch turned and hurried off. Yuki turned, then tugged at Sumire's sleeve.

"I'd like to drop my things off in my room before I go to the Markets. Perhaps you could do the same."

"That does sound like a better idea than dragging everything through the Markets if we're going to spend the night first," he stretched again, then looked down to his clothes, "Actually the thought of that long journey to Kholusia already makes me feel sleepy. I think stopping by my room first might be a good idea," his tail flicked thoughtfully. Yuki tugged his sleeve a bit more insistently, which got him to follow her out of the Ocular. Shoto had put the crystal clip in her pocket carefully, then readjusted the bird in her arms.

"It's okay, little guy, we'll get you all fixed up and flying again," the dark-haired female Miqo'te turned to head out towards the Pendants, which just left Ice and Angel. Ice sat the cups and saucers he'd been balancing on the cart, then leaned in close to Angel.

"I think this is our cue to get moving," Angel nodded slightly, distracted by Shoto's departure. "Maybe we should check around the Markets first?" Angel just nodded again. Ice noticed his distracted look, and lack of actual response. The Warrior's blonde hair swayed as he took a step around his husband to look more directly at him, "Shall we see what sort of troub--" He swiftly trailed off as Angel looked directly at him. The White Mage pouted disapprovingly before the Warrior could even finish his suggestion of finding trouble, "...I mean~, let's see if we can find... good deals! On supplies. And items. And food." He grabbed the last donut from the basket, flashed a grin, then started to head off.

"H-Hey!" Angel reached for the donut, then hurried after the Warrior with a determined flick of his tail; it seemed like Ice successfully distracted his husband with something else...

* * *

* * * Outside the Tower, it was very late afternoon; early evening; and the lights around the Crystarium were on. The sky outside the crystal canopies was a deep orange as the sun set for the day. Shoto still cradled the bird in her arms as she carefully made her way down the stairs. She didn't want to jostle him too much and risk worsening whatever injuries he had before she could even try to repair them. The shoebill didn't move much, it just continued to rest, and breathe quietly. The female Miqo'te took her time heading down as she felt distracted by the bird; it almost reminded her of someone. It was an odd thought, but perhaps that was why she'd felt the need to help it? She just smirked to herself as she reached the bottom of the stairs, then headed across the plaza towards the Markets and the Pendants.

The Scholar stopped halfway across the plaza, then looked to the side. She stared towards the Aetheryte Plaza; to the stairs where they first encountered Emet-Selch. The party just didn't feel the same without him around. Even after their battle, it still seemed like the Ascian would pop up with that smirk on his face and some sort of quip or remark at any moment...

...but he never did.

"Ah~! Here is the appointed hero of the hour," a male voice from behind her teased. Shoto's eyes widened and her heart hammered in her chest; could it be...? The Miqo'te turned swiftly towards the sound of the voice, but only found an Elf teasing a Mystel who looked to be out of breath; bent over and panting. She seemed to have rushed to meet her friend at the aetheryte shard, only to be teased by way of greeting. That ache that had been with her returned sharply, and Shoto did her best to shake it off; the pain still sat on her face, though. She turned toward the Markets again, then took off with a hurried pace to get to her room.

* * * Angel and Ice exited the Tower only a few moments after Shoto had started to make her way across the plaza. The blonde Miqo'te grinned at his husband, who'd managed to procure the donut somewhere between the Ocular and the front door.

"I'm surprised you didn't take some of the other sweets from the basket," he teased. Angel pouted as he took another bite of the half-eaten donut, then replied in a mumble with the treat in his mouth.

"I like Hanji-Fae's donuts." Despite his best efforts, his comment was still clear to Ice. The Warrior snickered, then stopped only a few stairs down; he'd noticed Shoto was staring at the Aetheryte Plaza. Angel continued to eat the donut, as he tried to finish it before they got down the stairs. Ice reached up to stop him from continuing. Angel blinked, then looked past Ice to take notice of Shoto, as the Mystel ran across the plaza from the stairs to the Amaro Launch and skidded to a halt beside the aetheryte shard.

"Ah~! Here is the appointed hero of the hour," the Elf commented, with a grin. Angel felt a shiver up his spine, which made his tail curl against him. He looked immediately to Shoto, and saw the expression on her face. It put everything together for him, and he frowned. Ice crossed his arms over his chest as Shoto turned to hurry off.

"Maybe you should go check on her after we hit the Markets," Ice flicked his tail, "We could get her something to cheer her up." Angel remained silent, which made Ice turn to look up the two stairs. He seemed confused, "Angel?"

"I think I understand what's been wrong with her," he responded, then gripped the strap of his bag across his chest.

Ice tilted his head, "I mean, I think I get that it has something to do with Emet-Selch. He always called us heroes instead of our names, and I remember that we met him at the Plaza stairs." Angel nodded, then took a few slow steps past Ice. "What I don't get is why she looked like--" he stopped before he finished his thought. Angel noticed the abrupt end to his husband's thought, then looked up, over his shoulder. Ice's expression looked almost apologetic.

"Looked like...?" Angel turned to face Ice, who then took the few steps to be beside him.

"Looked like you did, when we met," Ice frowned, then reached down to take hold of Angel's hand. The black-haired Miqo'te's ears fell to the sides at the wording.

"I'm sure it isn't quite the same," he gently squeezed Ice's hand, "But I think the reason she cried the way she did was because she felt something different than the rest of us in that moment." He looked back to the plaza; to the place they'd first met Emet-Selch. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say she's still not sure what to make of it, nor how to deal with it."

"...Well," Ice spoke quietly, "if that's the case, you may be the best one to talk to her about it." Angel fell silent, and blinked, then looked back up to Ice. The blonde tried to be encouraging; he gave his husband a small smile as he returned the squeeze of his hand. "You're right, it's not exactly the same situation, but wasn't she there when it happened...? She was the reason you were safe in Mist, wasn't she?"

Angel looked back to the plaza, thoughtfully.

Ice sighed softly, "C'mon, let's grab some supplies from the Markets. We can find something for her, then maybe you can keep her company for a while," Ice kissed Angel's cheek. The smaller Miqo'te nodded in reply, then immediately turned to bury his face against the blonde's chest and hugged him tightly. Ice blinked at the sudden hug; Angel shook slightly. He hadn't meant to upset his husband by reminding him of that trauma, he just realized that the two of them might be able to talk better than he could.

* * * Yuki finished putting her things away rather quickly. She took her coat off, then summoned her emerald carbuncle onto the bed. The soft jingle of the aetheric creature solidifying was a reassuring sound for the Viera. She smiled, then leaned down to point at the carbuncle's nose.

"Stay here and guard the room. I'll be back shortly, and I expect things to remain the way they are." The carbuncle tilted its head, nodded, then sat on the bed like a guard dog. Yuki nodded, satisfied, then headed out to pick up some things at the Markets. She hadn't gotten very far from her room when she saw Shoto stop in front of hers. The Miqo'te seemed completely lost in thought, then a moment later, she was crying again; it was the same expression she'd had a few times when she thought no one was around in the FC house. Yuki crossed her arms, then sighed. She turned her head to see if Sumire was coming, and found his door ajar. The Viera shook her head, then went over to his room. She gently pushed the door open, but didn't see the violet-haired Miqo'te anywhere. It was dim, only two small lights had been turned on.

"Sumire?" Her voice was cautious, as she took a few steps into the room. She was greeted with silence, to which she frowned, then looked around again. Nothing seemed disturbed in the kitchenette, nothing was missing or moved on the table, his bathroom was open and dark, the window was still closed, his dresser hadn't been touched...

It wasn't until she got around the screen beside the door that she found him. Still half sitting on the bed, he looked to have just fallen over asleep; he hadn't even dropped his bag. She sighed with both relief and frustration, then hurried over to him.

"Hey. You can't really be that tired, we've barely done anything" she grumbled, then reached down to shake him awake. He didn't stir immediately, which in turn, made Yuki a bit worried. She shook his shoulder a bit harder, then spoke a bit louder, "Sumire, if you're going to sleep, that's fine, but you should really get into bed properly."

"...eh...?" His voice was quiet, and he took a moment to register what happened. One pale green eye blinked open, then he shook his head a little as he pushed himself up. "Y-Yuki...?"

"Really, Sumire, you didn't even close your door," she stood up straight and crossed her arms over her chest, "Are you that tired? We've barely done anything today."

"W-Well, my room," he looked around at the dim room, then turned his head towards the bed he sat on, "My room's just... comfortable." He slipped his bag off and sat it beside his bed, then flicked his ears. He stood up carefully, "I'm fine," then straightened his shirt, "It was just a long trip to Mor Dhona, and the tea was relaxing. We have supplies to get for tomorrow, don't we?" The Dragoon smiled to the Summoner, who still looked concerned.

"Maybe you should stay here and head to bed then," Yuki shook her head, "I can get us both supplies." The Viera turned to head off; the Miqo'te quickly followed.

"But I wanted to go with you, Yuki." The Viera blushed slightly at his words, but continued out of his room, then up the hall without pause. Something about his words; his tone; they reminded her of why she left her village. That fear she felt when she realized the males would be coming back soon, and her mother would find her someone to marry. That life she realized she didn't want, and had run from. Such an odd thing to feel from his words, maybe she was also more tired than she thought.

Sumire felt confused, but hurried after her quickly. She had such long strides, he had to run to keep up with her. She only slowed as they approached the Markets; at which point she stopped to look back at him. He barely skidded to a stop in time not to run right into her.

"I saw Shoto go to her room." Sumire just tilted his head a little in response, it felt random, but Yuki continued, "She was crying again." He suddenly understood why she'd said it, then frowned.

"...Any idea if it's the usual sort of thing... or if something happened...?" He asked, worriedly.

"No," Yuki shook her head, "though I'd be willing to bet coming back here reminded her of a lot all at once. I'm sure she'll be okay with some rest, and Angel will be checking on her later."

"We'll be traveling with her," Sumire looked thoughtful as he looked over to the stairs that led to the Markets, "maybe we could get her something from the Markets to cheer her up?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Yuki nodded, then smiled a little. She had successfully distracted herself from unpleasant thoughts for the moment.

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bloodstarved · 5 years

Text

title: in my head (i do everything right) ship: crystal exarch x warrior of light word count: 1,374

“The Warrior of Light asks to stay with the Crystal Exarch on the night before the climb to Mount Gulg’s peak.”

prompt by @duskspeakers

read below or on google docs

The room in Eulmore is almost insufferably ornate—all plush velvet and smooth silk, rich reds and glittering golds. Delicate incense fills the air, originating from a place in the room that you cannot quite identify. When you move to sit on the bed, you find—to your prompt dismay—that the mattress is filled with water, and you bounce up and down as ripples spread out in all directions from where you are seated. On the eve of the climb, where you and your companions would scale talos and mountain alike to put an end to Vauthry, you are stuck ruminating over the undesirable state of your quarters. Perhaps it is something small to mull over, something to take your mind off of the task to come. To your dismay, however, your quarters remind you overmuch of Vauthry’s throne room, and it drives you to the curving hallways of the Canopy outside.

Only a few guards are posted here and there, and they nod graciously at you as you pass them, waving off any attempts at idle chatter. None of your companions seem to be wandering this night, and it is with a small huff of frustration that you make to return to your horrible room. Then you spot him, through the archway, on one of the outdoor catwalks leaning carefully over the banister. There is no hesitation in your steps as you move to join him, the nighttime sea-air of Kholusia breathing gently across your face as you step outside. The Crystal Exarch turns his head at once at the sound of your footfalls, lips curling into a warm smile once recognition hits.

“Sleep evades you too, I see,” he says in way of greeting, gesturing for you to come join him. “I would ask if what is to come worries you, but I’m sure this seems a small feat in comparison to what you’ve accomplished before.”

You stand at his side, mimicking him as you drape your arms over the banister, leaning forward. Close enough that his elbow is a hair’s breadth from your own, and you can almost feel the warmth of his body.

“...It’s the waterbed,” you admit, and though you cannot see his eyes, you can imagine the Exarch blinking in surprise. Then he laughs, the sound pleasant and easygoing. “How are you?” you ask. “Shouldn’t you be resting? We’re so far from the Tower…”

The Exarch waves you off, a soft smile lingering about him even as he faces Kholusia as it is laid out before you. From here, you cannot see the vaulted Mount Gulg, and for that you are endlessly grateful. “Please. Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I may be old, but I still have some life left in me yet.”

You scrunch up your face, and without thinking you bump your arm against his—the gesture achingly familiar. He notices it too, but you quickly clear your throat and say, “That isn’t what I meant.”

He laughs again, and you realize you quite like the sound, and you realize you have not heard it nearly enough since being brought to this strange and wondrous world. “Strange, though,” the Exarch remarks, and at your questioning gaze, he adds, “My bed is feather. If you prefer, we can trade rooms.”

“I wouldn’t wish my bed on Vauthry, let alone you,” you answer solemnly, and that earns you another soft laugh. You smile daftly at him, and it only dawns on you that you are doing it when he abruptly looks away and covers his mouth with his crystalized hand. Between blue fingers, you can make out the faintest flush on his cheeks. But you cannot be sure, and so you lean closer. “...Could I stay with you, instead?” you ask innocently.

The Exarch suddenly gives over to a bout of violent coughing, and he turns away from you entirely. Hands linked behind your back, you sidle around him, trying to snag a peek at his face. As if anticipating you, he tugs his hood down farther. “I...I beg your pardon,” he chokes out. “I must have misheard y—”

“You didn’t,” you say serenely.

“You…”

Quickly, you put up your hands, his embarrassment quickly becoming contagious as you realize the full implications of your little suggestion. “N-not like that. Just. You know.” You gesture helplessly towards the archway, towards the hallway that leans to the rooms—yours and his both. “It would be nice...not to be alone in a strange place.”

He frowns. “I…” He seems caught, and part of you regrets asking at all. You had meant only to tease him, but he seems pained almost. Slowly, he adjusts his hood and lowers his hands from his face, standing there before you all red-cheeked and anxious. You rub the back of your neck, but before you can say anything—to relieve him of the pressure of answering such a ridiculous question—he says, “Y-yes. I suppose I would...be amenable to that.” He clears his throat. “Let’s go, then, before dawn creeps upon us.”

Without waiting for an answer, the Exarch strides off in the direction of the rooms, leaving you to catch up. His quarters, it appears, are far closer than yours, for no sooner have you reached him than he is opening a door to a bedroom no less ornate than your own. He steps aside so you may enter first, and he closes the door behind the two of you. Though you cannot see him, you can feel his expectant gaze on your back, and he is plainly searching out the bravado you had so callously shown before in asking him. So you laugh—loud and awkward and so unlike him—and walk towards the bed.

When you flop down upon it, it does not bounce and buck beneath you. “So you weren’t lying…” you mutter into one of the deliciously soft pillows, arms spread as you quickly worm your way to the center of the bed. As an afterthought, you kick off the shoes you had hastily put on when walking out of your own room.

Turning to the side, you spot the Exarch standing uncertainly beside the bed. It conjures up a memory of a moment long-past, and you frown at him, his reticence and the way he clenches his hands at his sides painfully familiar.

A man standing upon the precipice of the Crystal Tower, an entire world away, fingers curled tight into his palms as he stares you down. There is something he wants to tell you—something desperate and ill-spoken yet crafted with the utmost of thought and care. But his words ultimately fail him, leaving him hunched and haggard before you, mismatched eyes glittering like the stars framing his face.

A man sitting against a rock on the precipice of the great cliff that bisects Kholusia. Hooded and desperate as he speaks of adventures past and adventures yet to come. The inalienable desire to—always—stand at your side. The words come easier the more he speaks, and he stirs himself up into a frenzy. You listen quietly all the while, sitting close enough to his side to feel his body’s warmth.

“Well...come on.” You pat the spot beside you, magnanimous enough to move and give him space to lay down, and the spell is broken—the memory dispelled. He unclenches his hands and, nodding once, climbs into bed beside you.

The Exarch lays as stiff as a mannequin, his back to you. You do not ask about his cloak, which he has failed to remove, and his hood covers his face still. There is a sadness that grips your heart in its cold fist, weighing you down, stifling the beating in your chest. So you, too, turn onto your side and fling an arm across his body, pulling yourself close to him so that your chest presses flush to his shoulder blades.

He stiffens at first, and you push your face into the back of his neck, feeling his heated skin through the fabric of his hood. “Thank you,” you murmur, curling into him, and you do not elaborate.

The Exarch doesn’t ask, either, and a few minutes pass before he relaxes against you, adjusting his arm so that he might—tenderly, hesitantly—place his hand upon yours.

#my fic #crystal exarch #5.0 spoilers #shb spoilers #i would appreciate reblogs if u enjoyed it!#since linking to google docs will remove this post from the search function :'(

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