[sanctummiles]

​ With HER, you are stronger than your struggles and more fierce than your fears. THE FURY provides comfort and strength to those who trust in HER. Be encouraged, keep standing, ignore those doubts and find your faith

Indie Rp Blog for a selection of Heavens’ Ward Knights from Final Fantasy XIV, as loved by Lyrieux. Follows back from milesducemdominus. 

|| Rules || Thread Wishlist || Interest Tracker ||

[wyferne]

she notes a tentative wish for atonement, then, none yet guaranteed — if even a speck of his previous self still clings to what appears to be a quiet, guilt-ridden vessel, then he surely won’t like what he hears. what could she do with an apology now? battle trophies have already gone out of… style, she supposes, and a former knight’s fractured dignity means nothing if it comes splattered across a white flag. it won’t patch up the hideous scar across her abdomen.

“ and i am no storyteller, so i shall tell it as it is. ”

blunt and vivid, her tonality almost sweet as the warning comes unmasked, she finds a spot to sit away from the restless crowds. “ it all happened shortly before the archbishop was slain. at the time, i could only assume the holy see thought me too great a threat to let me roam free, even though i had lived well outside their domain. i almost felt honored to find they would send one of their twelve hounds on my heels. i turned to find a pup. ” the pause is telling, a breath and a barely restrained smirk to let him guess who the young knight was. she subtly lifts her index finger to point at him. “ at the gates of judgement, to add. be honest, how many women have you killed? ”

[sanctummiles]

As his company speaks, Adelphel listens as he promised to. His silence is quite telling, his expression evidently trying to force his consciousness to recall anything, but the more he attempted to wade through the fog of his mind, the more it bit back. Perhaps he would never recall, but perhaps he would. Either way, what she spoke was true and thus he felt the weight of terrible guilt within his chest.

"Why did he think you a threat?" Adelphel really did recall absolutely naught from the last months, it would seem - there had been perhaps only a short time while he was within the Ward where he had been right of mind, before all altered.

"...how many-?" He looks absolutely horrified at her question, but he doesn't snap - he doesn't defend; he thinks, instead; attempting to draw through what he could remember to offer an honest answer. "Prior to being invited into the ranks of the ward; none. After... I don't remember. My first few months, certainly none but--- I've so few memories from after then."

[sanctummiles]

Coughs.

[bladeshowers]

"Figured as much." Evan had listened to all the history lessons about Ishgard even if they hadn't been the most exhilarating parts of her journey. Part of understanding other cultures was knowing their history - the good and the bad - the lies and the truths. It was a simple matter to guess a few different things that could have him upset. His actions putting Ishgard into a war without end, everyone he knew and loved being gone, so on and so forth. Honestly the war was the most touchable topic to her and the only one she really knew what to do with.

"It's a long story," the miqo'te warned, glancing his way. With that being said, she told him everything relevant to the story. The Warrior of Light had her own tale woven in, of course, but she left all the superfluous details out as he didn't need them. One thing she did realize though, as she spoke, was that the Ascians were likely part of this far longer than any of them realized. They likely hadn't been as direct as when they were with the last Thordin, as that was likely because of her presence, but she suspected they might have been involved in his father's decision years ago. Or maybe not.

"It hasn't been easy. Both sides still have scars and healing wounds. Time will continue to make it better, for the short-lived races mostly, but the younger dragons weren't there and don't remember. Everyone with good intentions have been makin' inroads, and I've done my best to be around to take care of any... ehm, bad actors. People have a lot of hope for the future now at least."

Evan didn't think his guilt would ever truly be alleviated, but hopefully, hearing everything would help some.

[sanctummiles]

Haldrath neither moved nor spoke as his companion explained the machinations of the war and how it had come to a fierce end. He simply listened, with his eyes focused ahead as if he could physically see the fighting in the streets, and mayhap he could from memories that had outlived countless generations.

Ascians. The explanation of who they were and what they did had him take pause and wonder, just for a moment, if they had been involved a millennia ago when the entire war began. What if they had a hand in fracturing his fathers mind, leading to the vicious mess that followed-? He would have to simply learn to be at peace with the fact he would never know.

"...hope." Haldrath echoed after a moment, his mind evidently still caught half betwixt memories of the past and the motions of the present. "The people need all of the hope and comfort from it that they can get." The path into the future would be testing and tumultuous, no doubt, but so long as the people of Ishgard remained as resilient as they always had been, Haldrath had no doubt they would flourish in the peace that had now settled upon fractured stone and haunted minds. "They deserve a comfortable and content future. I only wish I could have solidified that for them centuries ago."But Haldrath had been but only one man...

"As much as I would like to remain to see the rebuild and contribute to the future, I've a feeling that perhaps my presence shall ruffle more than a few feathers. Especially in the minds of those that can recall the beginning of the war. I would not wish to be the reason the peace is fractured or threatened." A subject that had been weighing heavily 'pon the princes mind, no doubt.

[sanctummiles]

It is his highnesses birthday today.

[bladeshowers]

Fate was an interesting thing. Not that she was sure she’d call this fate. Maybe a strange happenstance originating from magic? Aether? Something beyond most of them? It felt weird regardless, approaching a man she’d previously thought simply a part of Ishgard’s bloody history. The very center of it honestly. Yet, here she was, approaching this man at Aymeric’s request. Haldrath was, as reported, seemingly very alive. Evan wasn’t sure - nor did she care - about the particulars. All she knew was that she was here to help and that her sense of adventure was tingling.

The turmoil rolled off of him so heavily that she could feel it even upon her approach. The miqo’te thus said nothing as she merely came to sit at his side. Her gaze followed his and shifted in recognition. Sohm Al had been…an experience. She pushed aside her memories to focus on his words, resisting the urge to point out that she wasn’t the one here who needed something. Not the time.

“Company,” she offered simply, finally turning to look at him. There were no preconceived notions she had in mind when it came to Haldrath. It was likely she’d seen artistic representations within Ishgard in the past, but the woman had no strong recollections of any. His image in her mind’s eye had always been vague at best - Elezen shaped for obvious reasons - and she assumed he’d at least be reasonably handsome amongst Elezen. In tales, princes were always handsome.

“I believe Ser Aymeric thought I’d be good company for you. There are answers only I can give to questions you possibly have regarding the Dragonsong war. Or rather how it ended.” With a purse of her lips, she turned away to gaze outward, arms loosely crossing in front of her chest. “That being said….” She trailed off.

“You seem to be brooding. So I suspect the topic might be sensitive and perhaps we should discuss something else. Like…lances or dragoonery.” Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she was once again gazing at him. Was that a word…?

“Point is, I'm here to offer you my support in whatever form you would feel comfortable with that taking.”

[sanctummiles]

Of course Aymeric had seen fit to seek company for Haldrath, given how dark of mind he had been since waking. Few had managed to get much conversation out of him, save for the persistence of Aymeric himself - and thus his self-ensured isolation continued with abandon. Stewing silently in his difficulty and grief had become second nature in the few weeks he had been awake, and now granted permission to head outside for short speights of time he only grew worse.

Mentions of the end of the war had his expression change minutely; relief mixed with devastation. His hand was mayhap one of the most bloodied in relation to the start of the war, his people never deserved that suffering, especially not for a thousand years. Hearing all had ended, that a solution had been found after so long... he was only glad that more generations would not suffer.

A thousand years of torture in a state of undeath, beneath the torment of one of Nidhogg's eyes was not enough to atone for what he did. Back then, he knew his father's paranoia would be a gruesome problem not only for the royal family but for their people... and Haldrath had continued to follow orders, regardless. He should have made a stand, and if his father had not given up on his endeavours... regicide. It would have been the best course for his people. But he hadn't done anything.

The city's ruin - - was on his hands.

"...you assume correctly." Brooding was such a bizarre word, but he knew it to be accurate. He was lingering on memories painfully, unable to break himself away - - they haunted his every breath, as did the sight of the city in near ruins as it was. His fault, it was all his fault.

"... the end of the war. How did it come about?" He ought to know, he thought - - it wouldn't soothe his mind, wouldn't rid him of the guilt rotting away in his gut, but it was information he should know. He hadn't been able to do anything about it all those years ago, he had to be thankful now that someone had managed it.

[bladeshowers]

“Yes, and we usually execute the Tempered.” As soon as the words left her mouth her eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut. The wheels in her mind rapidly began spinning in acknowledgement of that one simple fact. Ah. Not this old argument again. The wind left her sails and Amara was helpless to argue against her own logic. Everything suddenly clicked into place as to why she was in this situation to begin with. Why Americ had kept him alive and hadn’t really...done anything other than house arrest. You couldn’t convict someone of a crime twice when they’d already died for it once.

Wordlessly, Amara sheathed her dagger. Tempted as she’d been to throw it in anger at the wall, she found the effort meaningless. They both knew she could kill him. She had once before, with help admittedly, but he was no longer in a transformed state with powers beyond his own. He also, seemingly, agreed with her idea. A numbness washed over her, slowly, but absolute in its existence.

“As much as I would personally enjoy killing you, you’ve reminded me I’ve already done so once prior.” Cold green eyes rolled. “Fate would grant you reprieve despite your crimes against Ishgard. Thank your god, I suppose, though how you managed that whilst worshipping a false one is beyond me.” One would think deities to be the jealous type.

“No doubt there’s no real precedent for this, but I imagine that the decision would be up to…” Her voice trailed off as she wasn’t sure. Their run-ins before had been before the Orthodox church. Amara suspected they would not ask her opinion. Not that anyone actually listened when she gave it. She’d suggested they execute Fordola and yet she was still running around and atoning. The Ul’dahn waved a dismissive hand. It didn’t matter.

“Fact is, if Aymeric wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be discussing this.” Her inability to act now came down to those two simple facts. Zephirin had already faced judgement. Acting on her own impulses would not serve her in this situation. She couldn’t risk being ejected from Ishgard when so many things here mattered to her. Her experiences here had shaped her, good and bad, and she shouldn’t so easily throw it aside.

Oh, how she wanted to though. The anger and pain were still there waiting at the back of her mind, likely to rear their heads once more when she was alone. Amara had thought she’d gotten over all this, but seeing him here alive was like tearing open an old wound. At least for now the feeling were stuffed back down where they couldn’t hurt her.

"Its pathetic, honestly, if you think about it. I can't do it. I came all this way, made such a big scene, and yet I can't shake my leash." What was worse? She knew she was just like him. Just a blade following orders at any given moment. The thought caused her upper lip to twitch upwards in something akin to a snarl as she turned from him.

[sanctummiles]

Usually execute the tempered. He knew as much - Zephirin had never been uneducated when it came to such things. With no way to help those people or creatures affected, it had been a mercy and necessity for so long - - but now, so he is told, there is a cure. Alas, Zephirin being reconstructed by the aether he had disintegrated into in Azys Lla and spat back out had removed that bitter corruption for him.

Some would call it a miracle, some would call it unfair - but it was what it was.

He had died once before, to her hand, and he still carried those scars viciously upon his skin, still felt the aches and pains that came from healing from such brutal, fatal wounds, still felt weak and frail in comparison to how he had once been. Chirurgeons believed he would likely never wield a blade again, and thus his entire life's purpose had been stripped away. Zephirin had always been a knight and naught else.

The mention of Aymeric's name has him turn away - contemplative and quiet. They'd been friends, once upon a time - - but joining the Ward had separated them, driven them apart, and the tempering-? It had only made it worse. Now - - Zephirin knew that friendship was long dead, that those blue eyes looked at him with regret and pain. If Aymeric had signed his death warrant instead of going down the route he was, he wouldn't have blamed him for it.

"I wouldn't call it pathetic." Not that his opinion was wanted or necessary. Zephirin sits himself down, his legs aching from the strain of staying upright for so long. His eyes trained 'pon the fire, how it flickered - but gave him no comfort. "You're better than your anger. It's a trait many would be envious of."

Before the Ward, Zephirin had been a commander, had been in the depths of the ranks at the very height of the war. \he had seen anger consume good people, had watched them crumble to it, commit atrocities because of it. Walking away, no matter how hard... was oft the right thing to do. Was it the right thing for Amara to do? To leave Zephirin alive? He didn't know - - thought it more of a grey area, all things considered.

"If you change your mind or think of another way to torment me, deserved as it is - - I shan't be far." Even considering his current house arrest sanctioned by Ser Aymeric, Zephirin couldn't walk far, didn't have the strength or health.

[wyferne]

depending on whether you were on her good side or not, vianne’s exceptional ability to remember people’s names could be a blessing or a curse of the ugliest sort. her heart held no room for grudges. those were handled swiftly, with hands drenched in fire and vanity too great to keep caring once her offenders breathed their last, though some of them she makes a point not to forget too soon, particularly when they willingly walk themselves before her with clear admittance of where they stand now.

preceded by open recognition, born out of what she hazards an arrogant guess is regret and little else, his name rings clear. stripped of titles or last names this time around — if she didn’t know he once killed in the name of his mad king, she could easily mistake him for a nobody.

“ ...were you at all? ” she’d been careless at the time, a little too confident in her beliefs and newly-gained proficiency over the destructive nature of the elements, her immediate instinct is visceral and none too friendly. the pleasure isn’t exactly hers, but she hears the laughter of the firmament’s children not too far from the statue of halone she helped rebuild, thinks of the prospect of peace lingering along these streets, and decides she doesn’t want to put an end to it too soon. “ hengr, ” she says. “ had i wavered for one second longer, i would have been crushed by a fraud of the holy see. shall i recount that for you? or are you here for a heartfelt apology? ”

[sanctummiles]

"Please do." Adelphel, bizarrely, doesn't flinch at words offered but instead seems eager enough to hear the recollected tale of occurrences he couldn't recall in their entirety. His mind still feels as if it was wading through a thick marshland, in a fog so intense one could barely see their hands before their own nose - memories felt hazy, blurred, distant somehow and the ones he had managed to coax forth felt as if they were not entirely his own, as if he had been but only a passenger in his own body, coerced and compelled by a feeling and a force he couldn't describe.

Even now it was gone, even now that he felt... himself, there was a lingering something that made him uncomfortably uneasy. 'T was a feeling he would have to live with.

"... unfortunately, my memory fails me. So if you are genuinely offering to recount- then I shall listen." In fact, he would even find a wall to sit on if need be. Adelphel had only been told fractured portions by Ser Aymeric, and though he had asked to know more, he had not been told. Thus, if the opportunity presented...

[sanctummiles]

Forbidden feelings thing with Zephirin when he's still in the ward WHEN?

[sanctummiles]

@wyferne || 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐃 for a 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 with Adelphel

Eyes of pure turquoise watch on with no small amount of uncertainty and nerve; the face he sees lingering at the forefront of the Firmament (now almost complete in its rebuild) one of familiarity. It had taken him some few weeks of observation to unearth the memory fully, the clouded haze of tempering forever taking its time to lift in its entirety - the extent of what he had done without resistance haunting the rear of his consciousness.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be much of an opponent this time around." His recovery, miraculous as it had been, had not been without its problems. Adelphel's sight had been affected greatly, as had his strength; scarce able to wield his blade, nor see far ahead or with comfortable clarity, he was not even remotely the knight he had once been.

He knows, too, that his delayed growth spurt and the time that had passed would pose recognition issues, and though he felt nerves deep within his chest regarding showing his identity, he thought that perhaps this would be a good time. There were not too many folk around, and 't was but a name, after all - - - few would make the connection to his previous sentence and the name; but she would. Hopefully.

"Adelphel."

[sanctummiles]

OOC: Made icons of Adelphel after his growth spurt.

[sanctummiles]

Please 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 this post for a 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 - ! If you have a particular muse in mind, please do let me know, otherwise the choice will be completely random! Length will also likely be kept short and the subject will be entirely random, just as the universe used! If you've got a specific idea in mind or perhaps a dynamic you'd like to explore, please let me know!

[sanctummiles]

OOC: Adelphel had a glow-up.

[sanctummiles]

ooc: am I currently designing a post-heavensward survival universe post-growth spurt adelphel? yes.

[bladeshowers]

Amara sat poised like a trap ready to be sprung. It was the complete stillness and composure that didn’t leave her body even as her prey acknowledged her. One knee was bent to her chest, the other stretched out, while her hand idly played with the dagger in her hand. She tossed it hilt over blade, then again, as she merely watched him. This version of Zephirin wasn’t who she expected to find when she let herself into his home. It was one of the few reasons she hadn’t moved from her perch.

“Bold of you to assume I would make this a quick ordeal,” she drawled, lifting her chin. Though it was smart of him to assume she wouldn’t let his past transgressions slide. There were very few ways to keep her at bay and far too many doors open to her in Ishgard to do so. “You should suffer. Like he suffered. Like I did.” The look she sent was feral, but she still made no effort to actually advance on him.

“You sound more pathetic than I remember.” What she remembered of him in her mind’s eye was the picture of arrogance. It was...not what she’d expected. Amara had expected some kind of resistance. Some defiance. Yet all that stood before her was a man who almost seemed broken. Which only irritated her. It also, unfortunately, had given her time to consider the situation she’d put herself in.

Fray clawed and tore at her mind - the truest version of herself - wanted nothing more than to torture and kill him. The logical side knew the consequences of doing so would be severe. Possibly more so than she was willing to deal with. Ugh!

“I loved him.” Another flip.

[sanctummiles]

"I assume naught." Once the entire puzzle had been constructed betwixt what he did and did not recall, what he made knowledgeable decisions upon and what felt as if was made for him - - Zephirin had expected some variety of retaliation toward his actions. Aymeric hadn't been able to meet his gaze when telling him the extent of his actions, the orders he had given while heading the Ward and every waking moment since had afforded him much time to reflect.

If words uttered were supposed to get a rise out of him, Amara would find herself sorely disappointed. He'd always been calm, collected - thought upon every point ere he made a move and now was no different. When he had headed the Ward he had been much the same but somehow colder, more disconnected.

"In all due respect - what you recall of me was tainted, not me as a whole." Tempered; gently, delicately - just enough to ensure full co-operation without question, but not enough to rouse suspicion. Even then, it had replaced parts of him with coldness, with a higher level of arrogance than he would usually house - with the inability to even conceive a thought against the demands of the archbishop.

Zephirin had always been thorough; it was why he ended up as Archimandrite - had he, perhaps, been in his full right mind things may have gone a little differently. Ultimately, however - his job would have remained the same; protect the Archbishop, regardless of the cost. No matter how one looked at the entirety of the situation, there was no clarity. Too many variants.

Did Zephirin remember killing Haurchefant? He did. He remembered seeing the threat to the Archbishop, he remembered needing to stop it - the choice of how to act, however, felt as if it slipped from his fingers like sand. He was aware, he watched everything through his own eyes - - he threw that spear of pure aether and carried on with the proposed mission. Threat eliminated, archbishop safe and moving onward with the needs.

How might he have acted otherwise? Perhaps he would have called out first, perhaps he would have given an ultimatum regarding progressing any further before he did his job - - but alas, contemplating it barely mattered. What was done was done.

"You're here for a reason, evidently. Do what you wish, you've the right of it."

[sanctummiles]

[sanctummiles]