This space is primarily for lore and screenshots of my FFXIV OC, Aeryn Stormwater. Other things that might sneak through: art and writing (when I feel brave), and lore for my many other XIV OCs! If I don't follow back, please forgive me; I'm still endeavoring to avoid spoilers for post-EW content. Reblogging triggers my anxiety, but I'm challenging myself to face that here: @caffeinated-moogle-reblogs.
Relevant tags below!
⋆｡°✩ A E R Y N S T O R M W A T E R ✩°｡⋆
GAME ......................... FFXIV -> Through Endwalker MSQ
TAGS ................. Screenshots | Writing | Lore | My Art
WOLSHIP ............................... Aerianger (WoL x Urianger)
AUs ........................ WHM | BLM | Astro | PLD | Other
AU ALTS ................. Aeron Stormwave | Eiyre Dandelion
PAST ..................................... Aeryn (10th) | Aeryn's Azem
OTHER ...... The Many Other Alts | Reblogs | Art I Like
Myyyyyy heaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrt. ;-; Skies above, I love her.
I just really wanted to share a close-up of Aeryn's smile from this. Brightened this one more than the others so I could better appreciate her expression. It's everything to me. ;-;
I think she looks a lot younger, here—but that's fitting! Seeing Urianger flustered for the first time and learning, in her own reserved way, how it feels to tease someone she cares for, she'd (unwittingly) be the closest she might ever come to emulating the more jovial, playful person she was in her lost past.
Tataru must have talked her into doing this. Aeryn got overwhelmed and covered her face like six seconds into the photoshoot. This is the only workable image they got. (I wanted room to add silly blurbs, so I only listed her canon classes, sans dragoon/rogue since those aren't commonly known in her lore.)
As for tags, I'm not sure who has already done this, so apologies if this is duplicative! (Also, no pressure! Please feel free to ignore!) @diggingforkuponuts @thewitchofelpis @starsoverishgard @ubejamjar @sjofn-lofnsdottr @sometimesitank @tivaphoenix @notarchonzachlol @alixennial @nearsightedluck
Yes, still working at this... although given how laughably overdue I am (and considering there is another WoLianger challenge starting, I think, tomorrow?) I'm going to bow out of using the tag, at the very least.
Reversed prompts four and five so I can share the scenes they fit in chronological order. The teasing is here, briefly, I promise, but (as in all things when it comes to Aeryn) it takes a while to get there.
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The air is dusty and dry, and the wind blows somehow hotter despite the elevation near the aetheryte. Yet in spite of the heat, there's no lethargy to be found about the encampment. Soldiers sporting coats of all colors—and some with no colors at all—move everywhere with purpose. The sound of boots and shouts and the metal clank of armor and weapons in motion all fill the air.
They prepare for the battle to come—for still another fight.
A small group of them loiter beneath the blue glow of the aetheryte, chattering, laughing amiably. The laughter fades as Aeryn nears. They straighten their backs. One in Adder yellow salutes.
She wishes they wouldn't.
She offers them a quiet nod as she passes and resists the urge to hunch her shoulders against the whispers in her wake.
The sun has begun to ilm its way behind Mount Yorn, casting stark shadows that offer some meager relief from the heat. Those shadows stretch toward her feet and overtake the makeshift war room she now approaches: a draped canopy over a large table, behind which Raubahn stands. Some few of her friends have already gathered there with him: Alphinaud, of course. Krile, however, is a surprise. Lyse seems to be shaking her head at something Urianger has said or done.
Aeryn's step falters only briefly.
She's uneasy.
Though their mission was a success by all accounts, something sits ill within, and as she joins them, she finds herself with little time to contemplate why.
"…that would mean these Resonant have been granted the power of the Echo via artificial means."
Krile's voice is small. She likely shouldn't be up at all, let alone speaking of her ordeal, though they none of them have the courage to say it to her face. And they can't afford to go in blind, not after Fordola's ominous words. The fact that Krile won't meet Aeryn's gaze gives her suspicion that the other woman knows it.
"It's a sobering thought to say the least," Krile continues, "and one which makes me wonder what else Zenos has in store."
So Zenos has some facsimile of the Echo. He might be able to predict her every move, as Fordola had. He'll have a greater advantage over her than ever before. Aeryn reaches up to touch her hair.
"Whatever the viceroy's newfound powers, I know of none better equipped to face him." Raubahn's voice is steady and sure. He has no doubts when he greets her eyes, gaze stern. "And face him you must. For there is now but one path forward, and it leads straight to Ala Mhigo."
Aeryn's lips part. Is he truly not concerned-?
"And it's not as if we came unprepared," Lyse says, moving forward with a nudge to Aeryn's shoulder and a wink. "We've got all our friends and allies fighting for the same thing. Honestly, right now, I feel like we could take on anyone and win. And I mean anyone!"
Not one of them seems to doubt the inevitable fight to come, though she herself is filled with apprehension. Zenos defeated her not once, but twice—and abominably so. And he's stronger, now, with abilities that might easily surpass her own gifts. What if she can't-?
There's motion behind her. A familiar scent wafts through the dusty air to her nose. It takes Aeryn a moment to understand that it's come from Urianger—that he's moved nearer to her—and the realization draws her attention back to the voices of their companions.
They prepare for tomorrow, each of them discussing their next course.
None ask for hers, but that hardly matters. She's certain she'll be told.
"One hour before dawn," Raubahn says. His eyes travel across the war table, pausing on each and every one of the others before alighting on her with a tight nod. "Find what rest you might in these fleeting hours, for on the morrow, we march for Ala Mhigo. We march home."
She reaches back just enough that her fingertips brush Urianger's sleeve. She could curl her hand in the soft material, if she wanted, but-
He shifts again, and she pulls her hand away, curling her arm across her middle. Before she can consider why she has withdrawn, Raubahn approaches.
"Naught remains but to notify the Alliance commanders of the hour to commence assault," he says. "If you've no objections, I should be glad to have you do the honors."
She tries to smile and finds she can't, and so she simply nods.
Would that it was enough to agree to her given task, but Raubahn—the general—has more words. Horrid, unbearable words, that make her wish to shrink, to vanish, to fly away headlong into the sharp, hot gusts of air:
"You were instrumental to the success of Operation Archon. You helped bring an end to the Dragonsong War. You are a hero to the people and a symbol of hope."
Her throat is so dry.
"Some might judge it an empty gesture, or worse a waste of your talents, but I know it would mean much to everyone here. After all," Raubahn smirks, planting a heavy hand upon her shoulder, "'tis one thing to hear the tales, and another entirely to look upon the woman herself."
"A fine point, General," says Alphinaud, folding his arms with a half-concealed smile of his own. "The Warrior of Light's worth may be measured not only by what she does, but by what she inspires others to do."
My worth?
"Aye, and now, more than ever, is the time to remind our comrades that they are not alone in this fight."
Finally, finally, she manages to swallow, to wet her sandpaper throat. She nods again, and it's enough to elicit a true smile from Raubahn, who claps her shoulder once.
"My thanks, as ever, Aeryn. And get some rest when you've finished. You, more than any here, are long overdue for it."
She turns and leaves behind the familiar scent and comfort of a tall elezen whose gaze she can't quite meet. She sets about her task, as she has set about everything that came before: resigned to do as she's been told without question.
Just as she will do tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.
Regardless of what is asked of her.
Fight after endless fight.
She's- she's so very uneasy.
And in spite of being surrounded by people whose company she likes and who smile when they see her, she feels so, so alone.
She wonders if they can see it. If the unspoken words on Aymeric's lips, Merlwyb's single raised brow, or the gentle touch of Kan-E-Senna's hand upon her elbow are because they have noticed her discontent.
"We march home," Raubahn had said.
She wonders what that means—what "home" is meant to feel like.
Certainly not like the empty weariness she felt standing champion of the Naadam, nor the inexplicable ache she felt watching the Domans weep with both profound loss and bitter joy amidst the rubble of their enclave. Not the aimless agitation she feels, now.
She dredges up from the depths of her the biting sting of what might have been memories, granted her by the lapping waters of the Ruby Sea: a ship and a storm, neither of them known by her, but by some other version of her in a past she can't seem to grasp hold of.
It hurts.
It hurts, like someone has carved out the inside of her where she imagines sensations of home should be, if only she knew what that felt like, if only she knew how to seek it for herself while she fights tooth and nail for the homes of others.
When she completes her rounds, she has no task before her but to wait. Raubahn had bid her rest, and yet she can't fathom how to rest when every ilm of her feels so very restless.
She roams without direction until her feet find their way to the rear alure, where she can hide behind the low parapet and gaze out across the camp—or more often toward the looming silhouette of the castle in the distance, shrouded by the starry sky.
The night has grown long, and chatter around the aetheryte has quieted by the time motion in her peripheral alerts her to someone coming toward her.
It's Urianger, and she's relieved. If it had to be anyone-
She tries to offer him a smile as he approaches but can't maintain it.
"'Twas mine fear I may not yet find thee ere I depart," he begins, drawing to a halt just as his shadow reaches her. "And yet to discover thee, at such an hour as this, still awake… Wouldst thou not take rest on the eve of so momentous an endeavor?"
Aeryn can't think of any place she might seek refuge, here, and she's still so very uneasy; and so she shrugs one shoulder noncommittally. When he moves nearer, she takes his sleeve, the motion as ingrained in her muscles, now, as nocking an arrow in battle. The tactile realness of his soft robe between her fingers is grounding, in a way so sudden as to briefly disorient her. The buzzing of her extremities, the restlessness, the urge to fly away all seem to flee in the wake of that sensation. She exhales and closes her weary eyes.
He touches the stars on her face, and she leans into the touch.
"Thou art uneasy, Aubétoil. Mayhap it might grant thy spirit some ease to divulge the truth of what discontent doth rend thine heart," he says. "Mine ears should most humbly attend to that which troubleth thee, should you wish to share thy burden."
But she doesn't know how to express all the many truths in her heart, so many of which defy naming.
I'm tired, she might say. Though it hardly encompasses all she feels, it's a start. She's tired. Weary. She would wish to sleep for days and days, if only such sleep would remain uninterrupted by forgotten nightmares that leave her more discontent than she feels even now. But in spite of that, she wishes she could stop-
Her eyes spring open.
She blinks at the hazy light and shadow stretched over Urianger's robe before her.
She- she wishes she could stop.
She really wishes she could stop.
She wishes she didn't have to fight anymore. She's tired. She's so tired, so tired she thinks she might stay right here, immobile, for days and days, if only the fighting would stop.
Can I- can I stop? After this, maybe, can I stop?
She looks up with a sharp breath and opens her mouth. It's on the tip of her tongue, the breath in her lungs ready to expel the plea.
But she can't say it. Her throat stays.
Though Urianger waits patiently, as he always has, for her to find purchase for her unspoken words, she simply cannot say it. She exhales along with a small hum and releases the question she can't voice.
"I'm glad you're here," she says instead—because that's true, and because all other words seem to defy speaking. She clutches his sleeve so tight it pulls. "I'm just so glad you're here, Urianger."
As ever, his face remains wreathed in shadows—all but for a faint highlight reflected off the edge of his hood, both red with flickering fire and blue from the soft glow of the aetheryte. But as she peers closer, she detects the slightest note of surprise on his face: his brows seem higher than usual; his lips have parted slightly.
"What is it?"
He clears his throat and looks away.
"F- forgive me," he stammers. "Thou- 'twas merely- that thou shouldst-"
Aeryn has never seen him this way. She doesn't know what to make of it.
Urianger clears his throat again, reaching up to press his fingers to his goggles as if adjusting them.
"P-pray, do forgive me," he says, stumbling only just. "The brevity with which thou most oft address thine compatriots is not unknown to me. Yet 'twas in this very moment that I didst chance to note a truth most unexpected: that thou had not hitherto made use of my name. To hear it spoken thusly…"
Aeryn freezes. Had she-
Had she really never said his name to him before?
Urianger reaches down to again touch her cheek. Even behind his goggles, his gaze is inescapable.
"'Tis passing strange, is it not? That naught but a moniker uttered in thy unique tone shouldst render me so wholly stricken…"
Aeryn's cheeks warm as the rest of her goes cold with a kind of shame she can hardly own or explain. She grips his sleeve tight and stammers silently for a moment, then hums and dips forward to tuck her face against him. She breathes deeply into his robe, working to calm herself.
"Forgive me," Urianger says quietly. He brushes the back of her head. "I meant not-"
"Urianger," she says—hardly whispers—against him.
He goes very still.
"Urianger."
This time his fingers give a slight twitch in her hair.
She smiles, because she unexpectedly finds herself amused, or happy, or some other such pleasant sensation that, like so many others she has discovered for the first time, seems altogether too complex for one word. It's both familiar and unfamiliar, this. Her insides squirm in an odd way that is likewise both pleasant and discomfiting.
She likes this.
She likes saying his name.
She likes the way it disarms him.
She murmurs his name again and is delighted when his quiet chuckle jostles her head against him.
"That thou, above all, wouldst tease in such a manner."
The words are spoken with warmth and affection, and she presses her lips tight, trying to bite back the grin she can't contain.
After that, they are quiet and still. She focuses on the feeling of his robe in her fingers and his respiration softly stirring him where she leans against him. She focuses on the pleasant tingle along her scalp where his fingers rest in her hair.
She can almost pretend the air isn't dripping with the tension that precedes battle. She can almost pretend there's not another battle to be fought at all.
"Urianger?"
He presses her head just a bit nearer.
"Aye, mon aubétoile."
"I, um- l-like it. Saying your name."
He says nothing immediately, then gently clears his throat. "This knowledge doth gladden me most profoundly. Pray, accept my gratitude, gentle warrior."
When she speaks no further, he slides his hand from her head down her neck and shoulders. She can hardly fathom when it was that his nearness and his alone became an exception to her usual preference for a comfortable distance.
But there have been so many exceptions of late, she realizes. Cid's crushing hugs and Tataru's hand on her arm, Lyse bumping their shoulders together after she's made some silly joke. All have become dear and familiar and even, sometimes, comfortable to her.
But the gentle weight of Urianger's hand across her back is somehow unlike the nearness of anyone else, and she melts into it like she would a comfortable cushion on which to rest.
Her weary limbs and muscles and bones, her aches and pains and fears, her doubts, and all the rest she can't define—it all briefly slides away like water in sheets from the sky, running down hills and through streams to meet a great river that will carry it all away to an ocean far, far beyond what she can see.
"Ere thou didst make sport of me in a manner most unprecedented-"
"Hmmm."
"-'twas mine observation that thou didst perhaps endeavor to speak of that which troubles thee. Though I mean not to invite ill feelings upon this moment of quietude, I do yet wish to be of use to thee ere the 'morrow's ventures."
Aeryn tilts her face nearer, breathing in deeply of his soothing nearness.
"Know that you owe me nothing, Aeryn," he whispers. "But if e're there is aught you wish to share, I shall heed thy words with utmost attentiveness."
She releases his sleeve, then raises uncertain arms to wrap them around his middle. He neither jumps nor stirs, and she exhales deeply.
"I'm okay, now," she says—and she is.
Not because her doubts have gone, nor has her discontent settled. But she knows if she fails, Urianger will speak quietly to her while she clutches his sleeve, and her wounds will be soothed.
She knows if she ever asks to stop, he will listen.
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Going to be honest: I got very, very down in my head about failing to do this challenge as planned. Had the negative emotional ick for several weeks (and still do). I thought about just dropping it altogether. But I did far too much mental prep and layout work for this, and I'm really excited about having this series of ficlets to help cement some of the more notable moments of growth in their whatevership whenever I get around to a proper write/rewrite of Aeryn's journey.
So I'm going to keep at it.
I'm hoping that by dropping the tag, I won't upset anyone for continuing this as a more personal challenge inspired by the original prompts? If it's at all irksome to anyone, though, or seems not in keeping with the spirit of the challenge, I can certainly omit references and prompts moving forward!!
I used to use Google docs, but the white mode only was really annoying me (tires my eyes), so I swapped to Ellipsus (which I genuinely love and recommend), but it was bothering me a bit that I need wifi in order to use it, so now I switched to LibreOffice Writer, which I do like.
It very much has a Microsoft Word feel, but is open source and you need no accounts to use it. It's local on your device, so no AI can scan it, and no wifi is needed.
I still wish it had the Google Docs cards, because, bitch, that thing is so good for easy organizing.
Happiest birthday, @trysta-rider!!! I hope the next few days are full of WoL kisses and joy and many celebrations for you! \o/
It's my bday and I'd love it if your WoL or OC would <emote> blow me a kiss.
Nothing fancy, just pucker those CGI lips for me, baby!
Well, I did ask Aeryn to try blowing a kiss for you, but she's a bit uncomfortable with the idea of kisses (airborne or otherwise) and couldn't quite manage it. She thought she'd blow you some birthday bubbles, instead. Tataru told her they grant wishes when they pop, so she's sending heaps of them your way! ☆₊
Kitoto, on the other hand, has no qualms about kisses! ♥ She asked if you'd like a birthday twirl, too—and then didn't wait for you to answer before launching into three. Hope you don't mind! :D
Been fixated on housing again for the last few days and have (again) redesigned Aeryn's (FC) house! \o/
Upstairs (Ground Floor)
No major changes, here. This floor was always meant to feel like an open landing space for the Scions (or other colleagues) to either gather in or retreat to—maybe like a seaside Waking Sands. I didn't want to change that, so I just added all the windows I couldn't fit before and adjusted some things for coziness.
Forgot photos of the rocking chair area!!! There are some here, sans one extra wood slat partition I added later.
Favorite detail: the mugs and book on the coffee table are set up as if Urianger and Aeryn were recently reading together on the couch. ♥ I'm also proud I finally finagled a window into the front doors!
Stairwell/Downstairs Entry
"Hidden" by the trick bookshelf! (Secret passage! I imagine it's operated by a special mechanism developed by Cid.)
Aeryn's personal space is behind the door on the right. The door on the left is an exterior access door for her use—hidden from view of all but a trusted few by Urianger's glamour magicks.
Favorite detail: the window seat! I wanted lots of cozy spaces for Aeryn to doze off in, given her abnormal sleeping tendencies.
Downstairs/Aeryn's Studio (Basement)
The only area to go through a major restructure! I keep downsizing for her, because she doesn't want much: just a safe place to sleep. (If left to her own devices, I'm not sure she'd have a home at all.)
I headcanon this space was designed for her rather than by her: hence the extra niceties, like that huge bath. It's all very much her aesthetic, though; someone (or rather a group of someones!) were very attentive to her preferences. :)
Most of the art was painted by Aeryn! I might do another post about them and what they all mean to her.
Favorite detail: her sleeping space, forever. I keep doing variations on that same theme every time I redesign. But the window seat here, too, is a veeeeerrrrrrry close second!
Whenever I'm aching for an escape, I give it to her. ♥
☆₊
Wanted to experiment with sizing Aeryn up with the wizarding tools to better fit her interior decor, and I like how it turned out! At first I thought I should have pushed it further, but I do like that the chair is still a bit oversized for her. (She'd want furniture that would be accommodating to visitors of varying sizes, especially upstairs where her friends and colleagues are welcome to come and go as needed!)
Got home to no power today, and it's looking like it might not come back tonight. (Help, I need my emotional support WoL to get through this week aaaaaah!) But since it's the last day for Reverse Asks, I'm quickly dropping this via mobile before my phone loses power!
Thank you heaps and bunches for having the courage to share and organize this fun idea, @diggingforkuponuts !!! I've enjoyed it lots!!
Last drafted ask came from mist-the-wannabe-linguist's Character asks!:
19. What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?
My favorite thing about Aeryn is also my least favorite: she's boring.
I say this having a profound and intense love for her exactly as she is and with no current desire to change her! But viewed through the lens of creative analysis/critique, she's a poorly-conceived protagonist—the kind writers are usually warned against making. She doesn't know what she wants, does little to forward her own plot, and is predominantly reactive for most of her story. Her most defining "trait" is her quasi-amnesia, which could drive her personal motivation... only instead I use it to present her as a blank slate with no notable personality who frequently observes rather than acts.
More rambling below!
This type of character isn't common in fiction, because they're usually not interesting. Most well-written (main) characters take at least some action in driving their story. They have goals and make choices. Their voices are distinct, and they use them. It's what makes reading about and/or watching them compelling.
But the thought of reworking Aeryn to have a stronger voice or take a more active role in her own narrative feels... inauthentic. Stumbling through the unknown as someone without a core identity or voice of her own is essential to her journey. She doesn't understand what she wants until she doesn't need it anymore; and she doesn't figure out what she needs until long after she's already gained it. Her arc is so subtle it's basically non-existent! But it's special to me, and it feels right for her, so I go on clinging to it, even if that means letting the story happen to her and not because of her.
There's probably a more interesting way to do this—to shirk the creative ideal and write a more passive protagonist well. I bet there are heaps of examples out there, and it's likely just a skill issue on my part that she's kind of dull. (Or maybe I'm just being stubborn by refusing to change her!) But it's okay with me that she doesn't have "main character" energy or a very compelling narrative. I like letting the story serve as the catalyst for her more introspective slow-burn growth; and I love exploring things from her perspective!
Eeeee, another drafted Reverse Ask ramble! (I think I have one more trapped in drafts for tomorrow later today aaahhhhh I should be asleep?!? Should have timed these better, oops.) This one's from whump-until-wretched's OC ask game:
10. How does your character feel about people seeing them cry?
(Featuring an older screenshot I never shared for some reason or other? )
Aeryn's relationship with her emotions is a strange one. Starting her story with no memories meant she had no recollection of feeling anything at all herself; so the first time she feels like crying, she doesn't understand what that is. Much of her early story is spent compartmentalizing each new emotion she feels in efforts to better make sense of and define them all. She's not stoic, though. In fact, she wears her heart on her sleeve, but only a small fraction of whatever she's feeling shows through. She becomes known as someone sincere, but not given to fits of strong emotional expression—because she doesn't yet know how to.
When things become too much for her, those deeper emotions start to break containment. Often it's when she's alone, but when it does happen in the company of others, it's incredibly unsettling for her—not because she doesn't want them to see, but because she needs the space to parse what she's feeling and why she's having such a strong physical response to it. She'll try to escape or hide, if possible. If she can't hide, she'll at least duck her head, turn her back, or just try to make herself smaller or otherwise less noticeable.
This happens several times during the early parts of her budding whatevership with Urianger—and not just when she's crying! Any time her emotions become too big or incomprehensible for her, she tends to look away or hide her face from him.
By late Shadowbringers and on into Endwalker, Aeryn has a much better understanding of her emotions and has grown at least somewhat more comfortable expressing them. Especially in trusted company, she's far less likely to hide her tears and will even intentionally seek comfort when she feels like crying—though there always remains at least a small compulsion to duck her head until her tears are spent.
ANYWAY, since that's all quite aldksflasdjflds, here's a sillier answer for Kitoto! Though I haven't given hers anywhere near as much thought (and reserve the right to change my mind), Kitoto strikes me as someone who mostly cries when she's angry. And as that will only serve to infuriate her further...
Godspeed to the source of her wrath. :) Get wrecked. :) :) :)
Just realized there are only two more days for diggingforkuponuts's Reverse Asks, so I'd better start sharing all these drafts I've written, oop. This one's from mist-the-wannabe-linguist's Character asks!:
6. What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?
Aeryn follows a visual "blueprint" I tend toward when designing game avatars: pale, brown hair with yellow highlights, braid(s) and/or pigtails, and some sort of star motif. Her starborn marks ("face paint") and yellow highlights have lore-relevant meaning, now, but they were initially just part of the archetype!
Aeron follows the same model as Aeryn.
Kitoto's color palette was borrowed from one of my oldest (non-FFXIV) OCs. Then I just went with whatever I liked best for everything else!
Tristan is 100% aesthetics. My primary goal when creating him was to design an incredibly attractive elezen, hah! There's a reason for his hairstyle, but that came about later.
Eiyre is, uhh, a bit embarrassing. She started as a self-insert, of sorts? Very quickly veered away from that, thankfully, 'round about the time I connected her lore with Aeryn's. Some of her features are, hm, "close to home" as a result of her origin, though.
Eirwen (my "reborn Azem" character—just realizing I've shared next-to-nothing about her, yet) was based entirely on my design for -> Aeryn's Azem <-. I wanted her color palette to be warm and summery.
Pretty sure that covers all the characters I've revealed here thus far... which is all I will own to for the present, hah. :D
Happy, happy, happiest birthday @feistierermine!!! You bring so much joy and inspiration to everyone else, so I hope your special day (and all the rest of the month, too) is filled with metaphorical mountains of it in return! ♥
"If there's one thing that is most important to me and my bunny boi it is finding reasons to love life and the world. So for my birthday I would like to learn about what makes you feel love for the world around you as yourself, as your WoL, or both."
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"Oh…" Aeryn says. The expression on her face is a familiar one: she's been startled by something new-to-her once again.
Her gaze slides away, but the brief knit of her brow would easily go unnoticed if one blinked, because she looks up again right away with a shrug and a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hm. I- oh. Well, I guess I never thought about it before?"
⋆────⋆
But she thinks about it, afterward. For days and days, she wonders:
What makes me love the world?
It seems like a big question, so she supposes it must require a big answer. Yet nothing will come to her.
It doesn't help that she still hasn't sorted out what love should feel like.
⋆────⋆
Though it's unbearable to speak the question, she tries asking Thancred. He huffs a quiet laugh, then looks away, smiling.
"It's not for me to say, Dandelion."
⋆────⋆
She asks Tataru, who takes another sip of tea, then holds a finger high in the air.
"Like having a whole plate of fresh-baked biscuits to yourself, and a heaping sack of gil, of course!"
Aeryn doesn't know what expression she makes, but Tataru laughs about it for the rest of their chat, assuring her it was naught more than a silly jest, but never offering another response.
⋆────⋆
She asks Ameliance, who grins so wide her eyes crinkle at the edges. She reaches for Aeryn's hand and gives it two soft pats.
"I trust you'll know it when you feel it, my dear."
⋆────⋆
But Aeryn feels a great many things without knowing what they all are.
She cares for so many people—she can acknowledge that, now—but all that caring hardly ever feels the same. How can she possibly know which among them feels like love?
Well, she probably loves Urianger, she thinks, covering her face with both hands though no one is there to see her. She long ago realized that the inexplicable things she felt for him were too big to contain within any of the words or emotions she yet fathoms. And she thinks he loves her, too. (At least, she suspects that's what he says in soft Elezen while twining braids into her hair.)
Yet even that leads to no answers, because whatever it is she feels for Urianger is too big and complex for her to feel about the whole realm.
Maybe that's the trouble. Maybe it's too big, this question. Or maybe-
Maybe she doesn't love the world at all.
She shivers.
Wouldn't she have a ready answer if she did? And she- well, she doesn't always like the world, does she? Even though she goes on fighting for it, never questioning why, there are times she really, really doesn't like the world.
Her thoughts on the matter spiral like dandelion tufts in the breeze.
⋆────⋆
She's half-dozing in a field of dandelions on the La Noscean hillside, watching seeds dance in the wind. She stirs more of them when she sits upright with a small gasp.
Because she- yes, she's sure she really loves watching dandelion seeds floating in the misty sea air.
Perhaps that-
But it's such a small thing, isn't it?
She tucks the thought away. Surely that's too small to be the right answer.
⋆────⋆
A similar thought reaches her at a table in the Carline. Mother Miounne brings her a mug of coffee after a long, restless night. Aeryn smiles her gratitude and draws in a deep breath of its delicious aroma, and then-
It's there, in her first sip. Warmth and a sort of comfortable sensation, like sinking into a soft pillow for rest.
Yes, she thinks she loves this small thing, too.
⋆────⋆
They come to her more frequently after that, moments of intense feeling: all of them small and unassuming, many so fleeting she had never noticed their impact on her before, though their potency seems to steal her breath away with each new discovery.
Pulling on fresh, dry clothes after coming in from the wind and snow. The twinkle in her friends' eyes when they laugh so hard their eyes water. (Recalling how it felt when she discovered her own laugh for the very first time.) Hugs, when she can bear the nearness, from Lyse and Edmont and Cid. Sunlight through raindrops on glass. Flying. And floating. And bubbles. (She seems to like bubbles a tremendous lot.) Ship bells and gull cries and fresh citrus straight from the tree. The way light over rippling water reflects on her skin. Brushstrokes against canvas. The scent of books and candle wax and spices.
...his voice, speaking magic and poetry.
Looking up at the stars.
(Of course. Somehow, she always finds her way back to the stars.)
⋆────⋆
Over time, she finds so many new things to love, and so many old things she has loved without realizing it, each suddenly making itself known to her like a star blinking into the evening sky. Some of them are painful to discover, because the good is frequently interlaced with the bad: lost friends and words unspoken and regrets. But woven together, they are powerful, all these little things she loves.
Woven together, they form something much bigger: a nebulous patchwork of what a bigger love might be.
Aeryn had begun to wrap it around her soul long before the pieces of it came together. Its brilliant colors shimmered across everything she encountered, illuminating each experience and transforming each moment into something more than what it ordinarily would be.
Making the wide realm and everything in it more wonderful—sometimes in spite of itself.
⋆────⋆
If asked again, she might still just shrug.
Though she's found an answer, Aeryn still feels ill-equipped to express it.
Happy birthday, @myreia! Hope you're having a lovely day and that it'll be filled with so, so many fun responses to your prompt and lots of joy, too! ♥
In honour of my WoL Aureia, the theme is 🔥Fire & Ice ❄️
Show me your best elemental action shots or black mage glam, your favourite snowy locale or a character so hot they might as well be on fire. 😎
Paradox for action shot: check.
Current black mage glam: check.
Snowcloak for locale: check.
Character so hot they... oh. Hm.
I personally wouldn't call Aeryn "hot," biased though I may be about her appearance. Hopefully three out of four ain't bad! :D
Another one for Reverse Asks! This time filched from mimble-sparklepudding's Herbal OC Questions.
Rosemary - Memory, Mental Acuity and Recollection of Information.
1. What is your OC's earliest memory? Is it one they would sooner forget or do they recall it with fondness? Do they genuinely remember it? Or have they just been told about it so often by their family or community that they can picture it clearly?
For Aeryn, this changes over the ARR -> EW journey. For a long time, her earliest memory is the game's opening sequence: hearing Hydaelyn's voice, then waking up in the Shroud before Bremondt's cart passes by and offers her a lift.
She has zero memories of her past until StB, when swimming in the Ruby Sea triggers a disorienting series of memory fragments to flash through her mind. Most of them swiftly fade (like waking up from a dream and promptly forgetting all the details); but one that stays with her is being aboard a ship during a terrible storm.
In ShB, during the climactic battle, she ends up with an extended look at that memory via the Echo, during which she both sees and relives the last moments of her life and the death of her star, courtesy of Emet-Selch's having been there. That then becomes her "earliest" memory... albeit arguably, since the memory is both hers and not hers?
It's a violent, horrible memory to have; but it's also cathartic for her to have anything at all when, by that point in the story, she thought her past fully lost to her. It's the catalyst that pushes her to finally, finally let go of the notion that her identity is tied to her missing past (a major turning point in her arc). After so long having nothing at all, I don't think she'd want to forget, in spite of it being so brutal to recollect.
(I sometimes waffle over whether Aeryn will ever remember more. My gut instinct is, though she might make certain inferences based on experiences in Endwalker, she'll never actually regain other memories. It's important to me that the culmination of her journey is releasing the need for her unknown past so she can choose, instead, a future she makes for herself, as herself. Regaining more of her past feels counterproductive to that end, I think... though I reserve the right to change my mind! :D)
