#bard wol

[totallycorrectffxivquotes]

WoL: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to be a Bard?

Luciane: Why?

WoL: I want to stand outside Lolorito's house and annoy him.

Luciane: Technically, you don’t need to know how to play it for that.

WoL: …You have opened my eyes.

[candideangel]

Heart of the Hunt

[stracyart]

I have made another Elezen. I simply do not possess any chill.

This is Jolienne, a Wildwood bard! Ear style #4 is so cute so I bestowed them upon her.

[ffxivimagines]

vōcem | Minific

Music Rec: YT | Spotify

The Warrior of Light has many things to do. Said things include (but are not limited to): slaying Primals, liberating countries, crushing Garlean legions, saving the entire world─you know, regular run-of-the-mill adventuring stuff. They need a break, too, and that is exactly what finds them sitting on one of the boardwalks of Colsa del Sol, plucking a few notes on their (poor, neglected) guitar as they tune each string. 

It’s comforting to be able to play music without intent coloring each note and when had it become so commonplace to turn their craft to an instrument for war? When had they forgotten how lovely the sound of unsullied music could be? They are more than happy to use their skills for the greater good, but they had no intention of departing from using it for all. There is no favoritism in how sound flows forth from their languid ministrations, floating over the water and mixing with the ambient crashing of waves where they struggle over the reef. 

They finish tuning and test each string once more, double-checking that storage hadn’t damaged the old tuners set into the headstock. They cycle through chords with familiar shapes, slowly weaving each sound to song, until they are all but thrumming with the need to do something more, to put their energy to an old tune they had long since begun to ache to hear. So they do. 

It’s the same one they heard when they were first beginning their adventure, passing through Costa del Sol in tacky secondhand gear they thought was the best yet, and it takes a few tries to get right. They miss some notes, nails catching on the nylon of the strings a little too harshly and making them twang instead of hum, but eventually figure out the brunt of it. 

They begin with no less energy than they had before and watch as a few bystanders settle down to listen. The more they play, the more people look their way, following the tune filling the air. A few entertainers on break kick off their shoes to dance in the sand and the Warrior smiles brightly when they call for them to continue. The Warrior does, tailoring the tune to the pattern of their steps, and loses themself to the music. Their eyes close, their right foot taps absently at the surf below as if keeping time, and it is a good few minutes before they surface again. 

Their fingers fly in shifting formations and do not cease their movement even in the face of mistakes. Someone claps in time, another drums, they can feel their aether ebb and flow in response. It is calming, gratifying, healing. They have not felt this at home within sound in what has got to be at least a year. Even on their Nameday they had not been this blessed by the soothing universal language of music as they are now. They never wish to leave. 

They do, eventually, but not until after the sun sets and they have made the tips of their fingers ache from the press of the strings. They are stopped on their way out by some of those who had stopped to listen and asked about their craft, what brought them out to Costa, where they learned to play like that. They smile and answer with honesty before excusing themself and heading home, pulling on the tethers within to teleport back. 

In the silence of their room, the song still echoes. They doubt it will ever leave. 

[ffxivimagines]

bard WoL proposing to Haurchefant?

For the record, I was listening to this while writing the fill!)

For all the things he’s heard of bards and their penchant for telling anything but the truth, Haurchefant finds it difficult to believe the Warrior of Light would kneel before him on a whim. He knows their character better than he knows his own. 

“Would you do me the eternal honor of allowing me your hand in marriage?”

He isn’t sure whether he should laugh it off, turn up his usual flirtations and try to convince them to give up on him in such a permanent way. It’s not for any lack of want that he considers refusing─this is a dream come true, Halone’s best blessing yet─but he worries so terribly about their name being bespoiled once joined with his. The surname Greystone is not given to the trueborn children of the Houses. 

He’s caught up in his worry (uncharacteristic of him, truly) and barely notices them take a deep breath in before they ask again, voice barely above a whisper, “Would you marry me, Haurchefant Greystone, and allow me the greatest honor of mine life to be by your side ‘till death do us part?”

And he has no reason to say no after that, not when he’s already holding them tightly in his arms with all the affection he can muster (which is a lot. An absolutely terrifying amount, to be sure) as he replies in a single, disbelieving breath, “Yes. For forever and a day, my love.”

He was prepared to spend his life moving from partner to partner, allowing himself that freedom when that of a marriage was not an option, and yet the Warrior had crashed into his life like some sort of uncannily-keen comet and sent all his previously-assumed fears to rest with song and speech alike. 

Warrior of Light, they are called, and Haurchefant can see why. They are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, so searingly earnest and loving he can see them behind his eyelids.