#aran aethersmith

[steel-and-aether]

[the-wanted-man]

𝕆𝕒𝕥𝕙

FFXIV Write 2020 | Fade | tw: blood

There’s a woman screaming bloody murder.

That’s not the part that really bothers me though. What bothers me is that she’s screaming bloody murder not ten yalms from me...and I haven’t done a thing. She’s close enough that I can actually smell the blood as she has her back carved out. I’m...not looking. I can’t bring myself too, but the corner of my eye sees the glint of a blade, and she screams even louder. I’m trying not to think about who’s doing it, or the tall shadow that’s standing there.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I’m kneeling before this tree though, like it’s an altar. It feels...wrong. Almost as wrong as sitting here. Doing nothing. But I was supposed to be doing something, or I wouldn’t have been here in the first place. I shouldn’t be here. I know that too. This is a place that only dead things go. Where living things go to...almost die, because nothing was really dead here, was it?

Maybe I can go out in a blaze of glory. Maybe I can take the tree with me. Something tells me that’s a bad idea though, so I don’t, and I focus on the voices. Not the ones speaking, the ones inside my head. There’s been a lot lately. They argue, mostly. But sometimes, she speaks, and she said I needed to come here. That I would know what to do when I did.

The wind howls out a dying breath and the mud at the base of the tree kind of looks like blood when I kneel in it. I reckon that’s just my head though. These roots though, look like they could come to life at any moment. Wrap around me, and pull me into the earth. I’ve walked to the gallows before. I know what death feels like, and the chill I’m feeling here is similar.

The woman screams again, and she’s still close, still right there but I don’t hear her as loud. I don’t hear anything as loudly anymore, because there’s a whisper in my ear. Multiple whispers. They aren’t the voices I’m used to. It’s something else. Things I don’t understand. I bow my head.

It’s...the first time I’ve ever prayed. The first thing I ever worshiped.

"I, Roman, do hereby swear....”

I hear myself start to say the words. I don’t know where they’re coming from, but they are coming to me.

"...my life to the service of the Dowager of the Irreverent Vulget and Unrent Veils. To carry out her will, to bring to heel all that oppose her, and to bring the justice of death and destruction to all who’ve forsaken her will in raising Elysian.”

There’s more to this. I don’t want to say it, but I do it anyways with a bitter chuckle, because why the hell not? I’ve already come this far.

"My life is yours, forfeit from now until oblivion take me, or my soul is released from service."

That was moons ago and I still feel stained. Marked. There’s nothing on me. I’d checked my whole body for days after. I scrubbed myself raw for bells in a shower. I expected something to show up. Some kind of marr that would reveal the ugliness of what I’ve done, but there’s nothing. She’s...silent. The thing I prayed to. Like all gods usually are. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it was over, that this too should pass. Should fade.

I know better.

Post-Edit | Mentions:

@mother-dearest-xiv​

@steel-and-aether​

@aishathecatte​

[jateshi]

I did some art!

A clothed but still bikini-suited reference under the cut!

If you stare and go “wow those proportions look a little off, it’s slightly too long in places-” I just want you to know that (FOR ONCE) that’s intentional!

I am not sure that the skintone is dark enough so that is likely to get adjusted when I finish the whole bit. ^^

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

⭐️ (what the hecky, why not)

After witnessing Aran’s speech in Ala Mhigo- and increasingly suspicious of hypernationalism- Ojene has likely seen Aran once or twice in the city since then and been nothing but outwardly friendly. She expresses interest in banal things such as the weather and less banal things such as “how is the reconstruction going?”

However, while interacting with her there is still the strange sense of being closely observed, as if she is the bird of prey and Aran is the target of scrutiny. No matter how casual the conversation might be, something of that sensation sneaks out.

@jateshi

[evanyellsartblog]

Cell shaded  YCH commission of Aran for @jateshi, their FFXIV Rogue/Nin character.

[steel-and-aether]

[Crux]

[ Crux ]

Things always changed around for the Ala Mhigan in odd ways.  

She stared at the sky, mis-matched green eyes mostly hidden in shadows as she spotted the dash of white - stars - against the canopy of the deepest evening.  

No moon.

She once had been a mage.  She'd wanted to be a monk.  

Not good enough for the monks, then.  And in revenge and self-hatred, she'd thrown away her magery too.

A cloud passed over the sky, stealing away the winking stars one by one as the darkness ate at the ink-blue sea.

When she finally started to open up and look for love, she'd found someone.  A few someones as her heart had tried, but then ah, they'd all proven to be the things they swore not to be: liars.

One at a time, little by little, she'd tried her hand at making something worthy of her life, looking for direction and a place to put the dedication that were woven in her devout soul.

Her eyes closed and her head bowed, the only light remaining near the red-haired woman was the flickering fire that bathed her.

She would be the ending herald, it seemed.  At least the Destroyer had shown her that.  One final mercy or use?

She wasn't fit to have been a monk, but a murderer - that she was fit for.

[steel-and-aether]

Commission by @equn0x of Aran!

[steel-and-aether]

[What Monster from Folklore Protects you: Aran Aethersmith]

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view.... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." -Atticus Finch Skinwalker: "Yee naaldlooshii" - 'it goes on all fours'. For some, the Skinwalker is very real and very lethal. Even the mere utterance of its name is fated to bring a curse upon you if not the being itself. A skinwalker was once a human, a human who succumbed to the tempting promise of power that only the darkest of arts can bring. As with all magic, it comes at a cost. The sacrifice of someone in their family. Skinwalkers prowl the woods at night, taking the form of an animal to inflict pain and suffering on others. It has the ability to transform into anything... or anyone by skinning them alive and traipsing around in their skin... like some sort of sick costume. For you, change is constant and inevitable. It is in the air you breath, the people you love, and the life you live. However, unlike everyone else, you don't fight against it. You've never seen the point. It seemed futile to oppose a constant like change. This attitude had made you into a very accepting and open-minded individual. Your care-free attitude has attracted the attention of this malevolent spirit. Maybe this Skinwalker wishes to take you on as a pupil, or perhaps something about you just draws it towards you. It will do what it can to protect you if only to figure out what it is about you that causes these feelings. Just be wary of those in your life who encourage change, for one day, you might look back on yourself And not recognise the thing you've become...

Tagged by: @agent-nightingale-xiv Tagging: @bride-and-bride @breaking-from-grace (both!) @jaliqai-and-company @justjaigffxiv @miyuki-mazaki @wandering-heart-ffxiv @renataturner @trc-xiv