It had taken hours, if not days, to make the trek through the forest. Time was all but lost to him beneath the canopy. Sitting on the edge of a ravine, high above the rapids he watched the last rays of the sun flicker and die as it sank below the horizon. He wondered how long it would take for realization to sink in that something was amiss. That he was nowhere to be found, and that no communication had been left behind detailing where it was he had gone. Maybe it would only happen when the chocobo returned without him.
The warm wind of evening brushed over him, the fingers of a lover enticing him into bed. Turning, he let the wind run through his hair and he looked to the tree where he had leaned his Thyrus. The old weapon stood, a testament to the things he had done, next to the neatly folded pile of clothing. White and red were a stark contrast amidst the green. He flicked his ears, listening to the rushing of the water beneath him, the motion oddly silent as the earrings too had been left behind. A small glint of gold atop the cloth in the dimming light.
Turning back, he cupped his hands. Staring down into them at the reflection of himself held within. Emptiness and nothing stared back at him. A small, yawning pit held within his palms, the same emptiness that threatened to consume him from the inside. An emptiness that consumed everything that had ever been thrown into it, and that threatened to consume the one last thing that was good that he had. It was better to end it than to let that pit feed on anything more. His husband would move on, in time, finding something better, something that could be what he himself could not.
He moved to stand, the emptiness in those hands filling with aether as the rest of his body did. Even when the spell was ready he kept pulling, the magic filling every piece of him. Putting his back to the gap in the earth, he let himself start to fall. Gravity pulled him down toward the rocks and rushing water as he let the spell go. His consciousness slipping quickly as the magic worked. A final kindness as he plummeted, letting the darkness take the last thing he would let it. Himself.
The drumming of the music as they spun around was only drowned out by the thundering of blood in his ears. The song around them paled in comparison to how loudly Rinh’a’s spirit sang when he was with Alawi. They had been bound together underneath the light of the Keeper’s Gods cycles ago and they were to be bound again. A marriage of culture; of body as well as of soul.
Najm’s grin was infectious, a smile splitting across Rinh’a’s face as he laughed. He would gladly bind himself repeatedly to the warrior should the Gods ask it of him. Bold markings of red and gold adorned the Seeker’s skin in contrast to Rinh’a’s soft blue hues.
Together they danced, red and blue intertwined like veins coursing with lifeblood, and neither of them felt more alive than when they were with each other. Najm leaned down, their foreheads pressed together and Rinh’a could see nothing beyond the odd coloured eyes of the one he loved more than anything else in Eorzea.
“I sau ilai, rulr ull nirr rfaisaid.” he whispered against the lips of his bonded, “I sau ilai.”
“Wherrre arrre you getting them?” Rinh’a asked as he plucked another feisty chocobo from where it had perched on top of Najm. The warrior glanced at him with confusion. Neither miqo’te had any inkling where the small downy bundles were coming from, but every time Rinh’a removed one from where it was stationed more appeared.
The Keeper removed another chick from Najm’s lap. Placing the bird on the ground he turned only to find another one had settled on top of Najm’s head, with yet another having appeared on his shoulder to tug at a tufted ear.
“Usaus…” the warrior mumbled quietly as Rinh’a plucked another bird from the Seeker. The ranger’s large ears wiggled and he tilted his head, “Yes Giesnaiel?”
“Usaus, they’re-” mismatched eyes glanced down to the warking pile in his lap- “they’re soft.” he said as another chick materialized to settle against the warrior’s side.
OOC Note - This blog is currently a Work in Progress - Leaning towards making this primarily an IC Blog with all OOC reblogs / content kept at @whitemageoasis – As of now, all my posting happens there!
Just a friendly reminder about the status of this blog. “work in progress” mainly meaning ‘I have no idea what to do with it’ and ‘I write so rarely I’m sorry’ and maybe some sobbing. I might tear it up later and re-do the layout, and re-post everything. Rename it to be a catch all for IC things for my MENAGERIE OF IDIOTS I just don’t know yet. Thanks for your patience and sticking around here guys. ♥
The baths of Ul'dah were extravagant. The tile along the floor of the room they had ended up in was a deep blue, and there was gold inlay across the wall and the tub itself proclaiming that this was Ul'dah at its finest.
Rinh'a looked between Najm and the bath and shrugged, a light dusting of colour upon his cheeks. The walk from the room that they had shared was uneventful, the two miqo'te bantering lightly of towels and soap. Rinh'a had only really agreed to a shared bath because of the difficulty such a task would present to Najm.
The Seeker was in the possession of only one arm, the magitek connection cap all that remained of the other after their battle with Ramuh. The lightning had caused an explosion of metal that rendered the limb all but completely useless. Even without the appendage, Najm had continued to act as if it were still there. The Keeper had gotten an almost endless source of amusement from this. The chorus of profanity and flailing from Najm after he toppled over from an attempt to lean on a non-existent arm was enough to send Rinh'a into fits of giggles.
Crossing the room to place the extra towel he had brought upon the rack on the wall, Rinh'a busied himself with perusing the offered soaps on a shelf nearby. Najm remained near the door, stretching lazily before reaching to fumble with his pants. Large speckled ears twisted, Rinh'a turning from the soap with a cock of his head, "Do you... rrrequirrre help with that?"
Najm's ears fell flat, his tail fluffing as he worked his thumb under the hem of the garment he was presently wrestling with. "Should be all right. Did you find a soap that will not kill your senses? Don' think I've seen so many bottles before." He grunted, the garment finally sliding down over his hips. Najm worked the cloth down over his legs where it pooled against the floor, allowing him to step out of them. Kicking the pants to the side of the room, he stretched once more.
"I have not yet found one I like. Too much smell, hopefully therrre is one that is lightly scented. Orrr perrrhaps not at all." As Rinh'a spoke, he watched the motions of the other miqo'te. His eyes catching what looked to be... his ears flicked back before flipping forward again in curiosity and he moved back across the room, his gaze fixed to the Seeker's smallclothes.
"There is hot water and it looks as though the tub is big enough for two." Najm blinked, watching the small Keeper moving back towards him. "It will be a good experience. Previously havin' to bathe in river water..." Huge white brows furrowed as he continued to watch Rinh'a, a twinge of worry settling in his gut. "... somethin' wrong?"
"I am...ah," violet eyes flicked up momentarily before settling once more on Najm's undergarments. "Used to rrriverrrs and..." his voice trailed off as he circled behind the warrior. Large ears wiggling as a grin splits wide across his face. "Therrre ARRRE moogles!" he exclaimed, his hand flying up and a finger jabbing square into the center of Najm's ass.
Najm stared, watching Rinh'a circle around him, "What are y-AAAAH" The warrior yelped, his tail shooting straight up and fluffing completely from the base all the way to the tip, his ears standing tall. "Tha's my ASS you're jabbin'! A-And it's not moogles, it's not! Just.. Just designs!"
There had been a time once, after a long hard battle where Rinh'a had jabbed at the warrior. Something having been said in jest, the warrior never having removed the red and gold armour in any of the time the two had been travelling together. 'Maybe you arrre just a bunch of moogles in a suit of armour' Najm had scoffed at the accusation. 'You arrre always in it, the arrrmourrr. I bet they have moogles prrrinted on them.'
The jab back then had flown over the Seeker's head, and yet here he was, standing before Rinh'a with moogles printed upon his underpants. Rinh'a beamed, his finger tracing to the other side of the butt in front of him before jabbing again, "Forrr not being moogles, they look verrry like moogles!" He gave a nod, laughing.
"You... you quit jabbin' me in the ass, else I start proddin' you with my own fingers!" Najm growled softly, his ears flicking and his tail twitching. "I already told you they're n-not moogles! Not even a lil' bit! Look, see? Just white balls of... of fluff!"
Rinh'a turned his head up, the huge grin still plastered across his face. "Moogles arrre fluff, with poms," he agreed, his finger sliding up Najm's ass from the moogle it was currently jabbing to jab somewhere else. "Poms like these herrre." His large ears wiggled.
"Why the... the sudden fascination in my underwear, huh? Ju-Just... it's just moogles." Najm mumbled softly, his tail still fluffed to twice it's size. "If you're gonna stand there and poke my ass 'bout it, h-help me get them off."
"It is only that you said therrre werrre none. Yet herrre they arrre, as I thought." His ears wiggle again and he withdraws his finger. "Besides," he circles back around the warrior and leans close, his thumbs sliding under the hem of Najm's underpants. "Thairr esa sida, fesenailr essurr irruis saes." Rinh'a stood on his toes, leaning up to place a soft kiss on the warrior's lips, "They arrre cute."
Najm made a soft grumbling noise, his ears flat against his head. "My underwear... isn' cute."
R O L E P L A Y C H A R A C T E R S T A T S S H E E T: ALEXANDER
▌((Tagged by @ffxivfisticuffs))
(( Art by @daggerlionelli ))
▌NAME: Alexander Amari Osais
▌HEIGHT: 5′6″
▌RACE: Hyur Midlander ( currently Seeker of the Sun )
▌GENDER: Male
▌NATIONALITY: Limsa Lominsan by birth, Gridanian by circumstance/choice
▌BIRTHDAY: 26th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon (9/25)
▌SUN SIGN: Libra
▌RESIDENCE: Lavender Beds
▌MARITAL STATUS: Married to Y’ziya ( @cactusgarrus )
▌ALIGNMENT: Neutral
▌DRINK: Tea
▌FOOD: Eggs
▌DAY OR NIGHT: Evening
▌SNACKS: Hard-boiled eggs, cheese
▌SONGS: Rune of Punishment
▌PET: doesn’t have one, but he’d likely have a Dodo, or two, or… more.
▌COLOR: Blue
▌FLOWER: Lilac
▌SEXUALITY: Bisexual
▌ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic
▌BODY TYPE: lean, semi-muscular
▌EYE COLOR: Deep blue
▌HAIR COLOR: Sandy brown
Reblog if it's okay for people to come into your askbox and ask about your OCs
Even if I’ve never spoken to them, even if I don’t know them from a hole in the wall, even if they’re on anon, people asking questions about my OCs make my day.
I just wanted to toss this up and say... Hello to everyone that’s new. (and old, cause I don’t think I’ve ever ACTUALLY done one of these) … there are. There are a lot of you.
I’m Alex! I do the XIV thing and you just so happened to stumble on my rarely used IC blog! This -is- a NSFW space, and posts containing such are marked with the #nsfw tag! I yell about my characters a lot, and your characters, and I ask people stupid questions. Feel free to drop me IC or OOC asks/messages, I talk a lot if prodded (though I am super quiet and shy at first!)
Most of my activity is on my sideblog - @whitemageoasis - I put ALL SORTS OF THINGS there! But if you like to read things, you’re more than welcome to hang out here. There’ll be tea and cakes later. ;3
*Puts a bunch of confetti onto your ceiling fan and waits for you to turn it on*
It had been a long day and the sun was hanging fat as it slowly dipped below the horizon when Alexander finally made his way back home. Weary hands pushed stray hair from his eyes as he pushed the door open and flipped the light on.
The golden glow from the lamp filled the space, followed shortly by the spin of the fan and the flutter of colourful paper. Alex stood in the doorway staring up at the cascade of confetti across the entryway. He groaned, brow furrowed and ears low as his palm came up to slap against his forehead and drag down the length of his face before setting off to find a godsdamned broom.
If you receive this you make someone happy. Go on anonymous and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy, or someone you think needs cheering up. If you get some back, even better, and have a lovely day! [(*≧▽≦) You don't need to send this to 10 people, but I just wanted to let you know you're one of the blogs that make me really happy! Thank you!♡]
bake a cake from scratch* | ride a Chocobo/other mount | drive a Magitek armor | speak a second language | dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | ice skate | unclog a drain | dabble in anything Magitek oriented | saddle a Chocobo | fire a gun | sew | juggle | play Triple Triad | do a handstand | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a witch’s broom | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write | braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | wrap a gift | give a good massage | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle deck of cards | pick lock
* Only if Yiz isn’t “helping” because jfc you wouldn’t want to eat that cake at all.
I’ve sadly been MIA for a while so I don’t know who has or hasn’t done this - if you see this post and wanna do the thing, I tag you to do it! :V
A low hum of voices filled the mess hall of Whitebrim, the sound of fingers drumming against wood accented the din of the room. Waiting. He hated waiting. How long had it been since he had last heard from Zuzeh? A constant in his life despite his best efforts to dissuade the man, only to wake up one morning to find him gone without a word. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but Alexander had grown to enjoy the company of the simple-minded Ala Mhigan, much as he would try to deny it.
The doors to the Crystal Tower had slammed shut, and with that final act it had taken from him everyone that he held dear. His fingers coursed through his hair, pushing it from his face. It had been weeks, stretching into months since the warrior had left. Days ran together as Alexander had once again succumbed to the lures of alcohol and sexual debauchery as a means of escape. All sense of time lost, the pattern repeating itself until a pair of envelopes had found their way to him one morning.
Reaching into one of the pouches at his hip, Alex pulled out the first of the letters that had brought him here. It was crisp, if a little worn in the creases from multiple readings. The handwriting was pristine and showed that whomever had written it was at least academic enough. The penmanship was neat and flowing, but as the letter went on, it appeared that the writer was getting increasingly impatient with the whole ordeal. By the end, the neat looping script was rough and barely legible.
Dearly concerned;
I assume that you will find the contents of this letter both alarming and a bit strange! With that I hope it finds you well just the same. While I pen this letter I find that ... the counterpart one is. Well.
Let me begin by saying I had no idea that an axe-wielding monstrosity would take me, a guide, into a cavern of ice and snow, and try to make a trek through unknown territory without expecting anything to attack or try to maul us. I must say that I am full of the utmost pride to admit that I only started running after the first five seconds and half a scream later.
Back to the issue at hand. There is another Primal, one which I am not familiar with, that has worked her way into the tunnels of Snowcloak and has been directing attacks more recently around the stations of Coerthas. I cannot claim to know all there is to know of Primals, as my duties in the Observatorium focus solely on dragons. But your companion, Zuzeh, has begun regaling me with tales and I've grown ill on the idea of them.
Shiva, as she is more aptly known, was originally the first of her Elezen brethren to bed with Dragons and is the mother of all their ilk. Or so the Legend says, I am not one to agree nor disagree, as I've not seen her with my own eyes. There is much to discuss and very little time to do it within the contents of just one letter.
Though the trick here is to find her, the mass of caves and tunnels are the reason for the delay and I am afraid to admit that I am most ill equipped for a journey of this nature. I've only signed up as guide and can assist through the curling bounds of under passage and snowbanks to find where she makes her lair. I cannot do much more beyond that, as my duties are star charting and penning the paths of Dragons.
So please, I beseech you, come and assist with the destruction of this foul creature? Zuzeh has asked for you specifically by name.
I would ask if any portion of this letter is blurred and misheard, to redirect your attention to the foreword and read again.
Sincerely yours,
Y'ziya Namid
P.S. Zuzeh is crude with work, as I've noticed. He draws not with quill and ink, but instead pens with a lowman's colored wax stick. Or poor man's charcoal. I am sure he'll send along the most riveting letter in this fashion, detailing all that we've managed to do in the time of our meeting! Warm regards!
Tapping his fingers against the wood of the table, Alex read and re-read the letter before him. A primal? If the words penned were indeed true, this was like no primal that he had dealt with before. There had been no word of beastman activity, nor had there been any mention of crystals being amassed. The miqo’te sighed, his fingers running through his hair again to push the unruly strands out of his face.
At least this letter made sense. The companion that he had received with it, well. Alexander pulled out the second letter, unfolding it. The paper was wavy and rumpled as if whoever had penned it had decided to drop the thing into a lake shortly afterwards. Anything of use that the page might have contained had run together into the rough shape of a grotesque smiling face. There was, however, a small unruined portion of parchment and that only contained a rough blue wax drawing of what seemed to be a snowman. With tits.
The longer he stared at the mess of charcoal, the more annoyed he got at the thing. His ears flicked back as he scowled, folding both letters and shoving them back into the pouch he had pulled them from. Flagging down one of the wandering servers, he managed to get a tankard of ale. Back to waiting, his mind wandered as one mug disappeared, and then a second. He was halfway through his third before the door burst open and he was greeted with an all too familiar face.
Alex noted that Zuzeh looked the same now as he always did. Tattooed tribal claw marks across his face, bald and with the same unkempt mess of black beard. The Hyur strode in, and Alexander caught a quick glimpse of a miqo’te following closely behind. His attention quickly snapped back to the massive warrior as he was lifted up in an overly tight bear hug. Arms pinned to his sides hard enough to hinder his breathing, Zuzeh pivoted around with a gruff “I missed you” before placing Alexander back on his feet in front of the miqo’te. “This is Alex.”
Coughing and reaching to smooth out his robes, Alexander paused. Zuzeh’s companion looked far too much like G’raha for his liking. Short, with red hair pulled back into a tight braid. Though that was thankfully where the similarities ended. Alex was certain he couldn’t lift a bow, let alone use one. This miqo’te was bespectacled, covered in freckles, and his hands were clutching tightly at the leather strap across his chest. “A-Alex?” The redhead stammered the name, voice cracking as his eyes darted nervously between the warrior and the white mage.
Alexander’s fingers were in his hair, shoving the unruly strands out of the way as he sighed, “Osais, Alexander. Alex to friends and this particular idiot.” He scowled and waved a hand in Zuzeh’s direction, finally placing what the other miqo’te was wearing. It was allagan in nature, if he was recalling correctly. Yet another reminder of the Tower, and another reminder of what he had lost. His brow furrowed as his eye twitched in annoyance and he turned to move himself back to his vacated chair.
“Isn’t that ... a Hyurian name?”
Alexander rolled his eyes as he seated himself back at the table, his tail flicking. “... yes?”
“You’re a miqo’te,” came the reply.
“Why with your stunning observational skills and Zuzeh’s brainpower, it’s a wonder that I’m even needed here in the first place.” Swiping the mug of ale from the table he raised it to his lips and took a large swig. A quick smack of his lips and he turned his attention back to the miqo’te, “You would be correct.” Alexander gave a shrug and a dismissive wave with the tankard in his hand. “I was careless and let my thirst for knowledge outweigh my caution and-"
He was cut off as Zuzeh spoke, "He read a book wrong." Alexander scowled and flung the tankard at the Ala Mhigan, bouncing it off the man’s heavily armoured shoulder to no effect. Zuzeh just stood there grinning, oblivious to the fresh coat of ale he was now wearing.
“My ... condition ... aside,” he shot a glare at Zuzeh, “You’ve brought me out here for some reason, and I’m not inclined to think it’s a primal.” At this, the other two erupted into attempts at explanation as to the events before his own arrival. None of it was making sense and trying to pick apart the mess was only serving to give him the beginnings of a headache. Alex groaned and dropped his head into his hands, “Zuzeh, be quiet.” His attention fell back to the irritatingly allagan clad miqo’te as he raised his head back up. “You, the one that can speak in complete sentences. What exactly have you two been dealing with?”
(( I have something I’ve been working on off/on for the past week or two as I can - it’s almost done, so if you like to read things I’ll have a giant glob of IC RP related Alex story here within a few days ))
Okay my terrible penchant for wordplay aside… -cough-
Alex was raised in a variety of locales and under wildly varying conditions. His parents were strict, but fair for the most part. They owned and worked a small farm in La Noscea, and once he was old enough he was to help with various assorted things. Planting and weeding, milking goats, and the like.
After the loss of his parents (I haven’t figured if they’re dead or just missing) during a market trip to Ul’dah, he was left to fend for himself on the streets. [early teen years-ish] This didn’t last for very long, nor did it end overly well. He resorted to thievery and really wasn’t very -good- at it. Survived primarily based on luck alone. Ended up getting caught after he got cocky and pilfered from the same stall a number of times. Merchant had ties to the Syndicate and to deter future thieves, it was decided that Alex would be made an example of. He was whipped to near death, in broad daylight, and left for dead in the middle of the streets. Some kind soul took pity on the kid and not only dragged him from there, but also tended his wounds.
Once he was well enough to travel, he was taken to Gridania and left at the orphanage there. Aspired to be a Wood Wailer, was decent with a lance. Quiet and withdrawn after the events in Ul’dah. Exhibited the ability to manipulate aether and was accepted into the conjurers guild. Lots of nature, lots of study. Managed to get them to teach him to read and write, spent a lot of time with books where he could. Gridania instilled a lot of drive in him for study and learning, even if he’s got a huge dislike of actually using magic.
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
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baratheonpilled
