#baleful

[mariyagoldoak]

[weepingfoxfury]

Tumblr scrapped my post ... so here's Mr Busterson to stare balefully in the general direction of whatever gremlin leapt in.

Off to the shiny metropolis ...

Edit: Wow! The gremlins gave me my post back! My offering of the something or other that was stuck to the back of the fridge has proved a worthy gift ;-)

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite Entry #4: Baleful

FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt #4: Baleful The Elezen was in a flurry of showy emotion, hands flying in animated gestures, her cheeks puffed and red. “I thought this was a reputable teahouse! I cannot believe I have been so misled! The scones were hard and the tea was oversteeped! Don’t even get me started on the tart! You call that a real Ishgardian apple tart?”

Faye knew it wasn’t true, but as the saying goes, the customer is always right. She offered a polite smile, waiting until there was a lull in the woman’s complaints to respond. “I’m terribly sorry that the tea and food didn’t meet your standards, Madame. If there is anything--” “The tea and food?” The Ishgardian interrupted the teahouse’s proprietress. “Oh, if only that were all! The service was abysmal! And that table next to us, they would not stop talking and laughing! Is a teahouse not supposed to maintain a quiet and relaxing atmosphere? You should do something about such unruly customers!” “My apologies, Madame,” Faye took her chance to interject one more in hopes of halting the tirade. “I’m sorry if your meal was disturbed. In the interest of indeed maintaining that quiet and relaxing atmosphere, if you would like to accompany me to the counter, we can settle your bill so that you may--” “Oh, you will not be getting a single gil from me, no ma’am! Not for this farce of an establishment! Jermaine! Grab my stole! We are leaving!” she barked, stomping one heel against the floor for emphasis before she settled her attention on Faye once more. “You should be ashamed of yourself, calling yourself the proprietress of this dump!” Smile ever frozen upon her face even if not quite reaching her icy blue eyes, the Midlander advanced a step toward the woman, leaning dangerously close. Her voice lowered to only be heard by the Elezen’s pointed ears. “Don’t fall asleep.” “Excuse me?” The woman immediately paled. "Don’t. Fall. Asleep,” she repeated succinctly in a whisper before she withdrew. The Ishgardian huffed, spun around, and hurriedly took her leave without waiting for Jermaine or her stole. And she would not sleep that night.

[reikomizuno]

FFXIVWrite Entry #4: Baleful

The black, wooden comb stopped moving on the fine white hair, fingers holding it clenching for a moment. It got placed on the vanity, littered with the toiletries and make up, two fingers curiously picking them up one by one to organize them. Her pale eyes came to a stop on the reflection though, stumbling upon the empty bed.

It had been some time since she had seen her beloved Yoko, and she could feel the weight of it in her heart.

Distracted from the task at hand, or simply losing the will for it, the woman stood up, walking to the bed, reaching for the illustrated book that was next to the bed. It was in Hingan, with lovely hand painted pictures decorating the pages but it was also the first book he had read for her for she, at the time, could not read or write Hingan.

"I will think on a name. I want it to be good and meaningful. And fitting to your family. Something... hingan."

"I believe so tomes will be in order to see if something mythical catches your eye. For nothing else than that compares to your beauty."

"Not sure my hingan is good enough to read this..."

"Then I shall help you. The language itself you will likely see patterns within. Sometimes certain iconography can end up meaning similar things in the language but it takes time as with everything to get a good basis. I shall see to it you learn to read and write it.."

Long nails trailed on the pages, writings she could half understand now, but she always enjoyed the drawings of these mystical creatures, the kami, and the playful spirits that occupied the lands of Hingashi. Coming to a certain page, she stopped. Her lips curled into a sad smile, thoughts going back to a fateful night.

"... fascinating."

" Foxes are known to while being cunning.. playful.. smart.. yet they as well clever in how they apply themselves to swaying things into their favor. Bewitchment some would even say being taken away by not only her beauty but the way she is as a person. A personality that can enthrall and find one lost as the fox enjoys her mischief.. while a trickster is a much more playful one. One of the more well known ones is Reiko~ A demon.."

"I do have a carved white fox mask..."

"My charming bewitching fox, Reiko."

Her eyes continued to stare at the book for another moment or two, then she left it to rest on her lap, a sigh escaping her lips. It was a wonder how much she strayed from her path just by being here, the once shy, Eorzian healer who travelled, and yet somehow she felt home, at peace and loved.

And this name that she had chosen...? Was now her name.

Picture by IrenHorrors

[thefreelanceangel]

FFXIVWrite2021: Baleful

Every step echoed, every footfall thrown back a thousand fold by the stone placidly observing another sacrifice come for the end.

From the ledge overlooking the pit--which should, by all logic, have been fetid and dank, dark to the eye, smothering with menace--she came into view.

And looked up, the doleful clang of wings echoing like solemn bells against the stone, drowning out the footfalls that proceeded forth, regardless of what waited below.

In absence of darkness, light itself turned baleful, draining all self, all presence, all will until nothing remained but bleached shells, set loose as beautiful traps.

[theshroudwolf]

Prompt 4: Baleful

Blood dripping down his chin, electric energy arcing from his weapon.

Blood running down the scaled ribs of a man turned dragon, intent on facing or dealing defeat.

The sad truth that the blood spilled by one another was of kin. But that was beyond consideration as the newly turned dragon traded blow for blow with the fledgling Dragoon. Each swipe of claw and chomp of fang met in turn with thrust and slice of spear, the sad eyes of a mother watching her son battle his estranged father to fulfill a greedy last request which was to be paid in pain and blood.

A baby, held by a wife and mother, not knowing the significance of his battle watched on with teary eyes, seeing her father exact vengeance. It's a blessing she may not remember the details of this day.

The clap of thunder, flash of lightning, and the silence which follows seemed to last an eternity yet concluded in a near instant.

The Shroud Wolf stood over his foe, exhausted, wounded, but victorious. In that moment, the Wolf was greater than the Dragon.

[thevoilinauttheory]

Long Way Down

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 4: Baleful ]

[ Content Warnings: detailed and graphic torture (losing of body parts), blood, implied racism ]

[ video has flashing lights ]

“Now… just hold still, this will not hurt… much.” It was the only time he smiled, more than a simper, more than some mock imitation of a smirk - when he worked. He knelt down beside the poor incapacitated man, lying flat against the dirt - staring up at the face he would know as death itself; eyes scrunching closed when he could feel the sharp claws of nails drag across his cheek. “Oh, dear. That will not do to help you any - I *highly* recommend you keep them open… it will make the process *much* smoother. With any luck… you may remain alive.”

Those nails positioned themselves around the man’s eye socket, slowly - he made *certain* to move slowly, that was his favorite part of it all - digging them in, through the lids that remained in the way; his smile grew with the hoarse scream of agony followed. “Scream all you would like… there is no one to come to your aid. Your comrades will be next to follow you, to whatever Heavens or Hells your kind believe in.” He rolled his free wrist idly. “You happened to be lucky number one.”

He buried his nails further in, not minding one bit to talk to the man as he screeched. When he was able to reach around, to feel his claws wrap around the ball of his eye - just as painfully slow as going in - he pulled it out, watching the strands of muscle and nerves tear and pop the further out it got. A dark laugh laid low in his throat as he saw the blood pool into the empty socket. “It is good that I had learned my lesson on the robes - rather a pain to clean blood out of white, though if anything were to stain it, it would not be your filthy blood.” 

He set the eye inside of a metal box, idly musing to the man going into shock. “While I have an overabundance of blue eyes already - it does not hurt to be prepared. Yours are quite clear, you know, I may have some use for them.” His eyes turned back down to him, apathy written in them. “And do not think to die yet! I have much need for your aether - and it would simply be a waste of perfectly good energy if you went and did that.” He stood up, searching about for something, and upon finding a decently sized piece of scrap metal, brought it over to rest under his victim’s legs - and as any cruel being, brought a hand over the missing eye and *healed it*, listening to the sobbing chokes as if it were music.

Next was the other eye, where he did much of the same before - this time, immediately healing the wound once it was fresh - the second eye taking its place next to the first. “What to do next, hm…” He tilted his head back and forth in mock thought. “I would do the tongue, but I prefer you screaming, not gurgling. Fingers, mayhaps?” He stood back up, returning to the stark white robes that he had draped over a tree branch to avoid collateral damages to them, shoving bloodied hands inside of a pack that was attached to its belt, digging around dramatically - just for the man to hear several pieces of metal clinking about, giving him some sense of anticipated dread. Out he pulled a knife, not too sharp, of course, to make it all the worse. Even with the wounds and blindness, the man found some adrenaline to run on, trying grasping at dirt and rocks to drag himself away. “Tch.” He had turned about just in time to watch his prey’s feeble attempt to escape and shook his head. “No, no, that will not do. I suggest remaining still - did you not hear me before? What is it with the lack of listening and following directions nowadays? Is your kind not supposed to be excellent at following orders?” 

He meandered back over, slamming his boot into the man’s chest. “Move any more and it will be this heel that finds your heart, not the knife.” He pinned down the first wrist. “For that, I may as well take the whole hand.” And with that, he did. Deliberately sawing through the skin and muscle with the dull blade, all around the edges until there was nothing but the bone left to see - and with several hard yanks towards himself, broke the wrist right off. The smile came back as the body he was tearing to pieces only twitched in response to the stimulation - and still managed to keep him alive through it. “To the other. Save for your actions, you have been doing very well. Perhaps I will not claw out your heart after all. You caught me in a fairly good mood, I may be able to muster some mercy. Usually it is the last I get around to that acts well enough to not draw my ire.”

There were whimpers after that, but even with the wounds, the man still thought of a way to survive - if only so that he could meet a swifter death instead of the torture. If remaining still and letting the reaper take his spoils would grant him some measure of returning home, he stayed that way. He coughed out vain struggles to scream as the other hand was sawed off in the same manner as the last. “Good boy. I will even let you keep your tongue, perhaps you will have time for your final words to your family. Or spread word of me. I care not. Let us hope the rest of your company will be just as cooperative.” He nudged the man’s side with the sole of his boot as he stood back up, all his newly acquired treasures tucked away inside of a metal box. “Ah… almost forgot.” He returned to the man’s side, padded over his uniform for a set of dogtags, wrenching them from the man’s neck, reading over the name. 

“Aureatis.. well, Aureatis, you have been a pleasure to work with today. Let us hope we meet again in the future.” The maliciousness dripped from his teeth as he smiled again, then sauntered over to the next victim; patting his cheek to awaken him from unconsciousness. He frightened at the sight of the blood-splattered grin, strands of pure white hair speckled with red, white shirt stained with the blood of his comrade. “Wh-What-- who are you! Step away!”

“Hm? Oh, you have not heard of me?” He offered a dramatic bow in greeting. “Maximiloix Voilinaut - your worst nightmare. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”