Yes, I know I skipped over Day 9. The prompt is messing with me a little. But! I believe I've managed to figure something out for it.
In the meantime -- the prompt for today was "Avail," and I think I came up with a rather fun scene in response!
Spoilers for the Dawntrail Alliance Raid, specifically the second one!
“To ensure I understand the situation: upon defeat, you managed to avail yourself of a different form in an attempt to escape Sareel Ja’s influence.”
“Yes.” The response is curt and irritated.
“Well, tis certainly quite creative of you, but I doubt you were expecting your remaining energy to result in this state.” Cross motioned to the minion-sized figure sitting on the box next to her.
Eald’narche folded his shortened arms and did his best to scowl around the eyepatch he wore over his distinctly changed eye. “It will allow me to walk about unnoticed by you and yours.”
“Only if you stay close. Anyone seeing you would mistake you for a personalized mammet.”
Eald’narche’s expression twisted into something disgusted and angry. “I am not—”
“I know you are not, but others will not.” Cross tilted her head at the miniaturized Zilartian, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “And as a result, you are going to either stay close to me, or you are going to be mistaken for something you are not and more than likely be seen as a child’s toy.”
The sounds the boy made definitely weren’t of Etheirys.
Cross waited until her former foe had worked out his frustrations through words before she spoke up again. “You couldn’t have picked a better adventurer to follow anyway, Eald’narche. I have experience with opponents turning themselves into smaller forms to avoid certain death—” Omega was going to have a field day when they crossed paths again. “—and I have more access to this world than most. You’re going to see the length and breadth of this world and learn more than you would have otherwise.”
The glowering look she got also seemed curious. “How so?”
“I’m like the ‘seasoned adventurer’ the others speak of around here, more than likely. Someone who can and has felled gods, or beings near enough. You’ll get to see a great deal of this world whilst traveling with me.”
The cursing restarted immediately, leaving Cross laughing as Eald’narche had a miniature tantrum at this revelation.
“I am bound to one with equal strength to her?!” Eald’narche shrieked. “Of all the lives to be cursed with—”
Cross had to resist patting him on the head. Eald’narche may be without his weapons, but a minion could still bite. “Oh, relax. You just get to see things from my perspective. Now, c’mon. Might as well talk to an electrope specialist. I want to make sure you won’t fall to pieces in the near future.”
“Hmph.” Eald’narche looked like he wanted to start cursing again. “You would do this for a former foe? Why?”
“Because you’re not the first to do something like this, and if there’s a chance you could learn something, I’m not about to let that slip by. Now, c’mon. Better for you to ride in my bag than try to run and keep up with me.”
So, with the official prompt-a-day event currently on hiatus, a friend of mine made a prompt site using the previous years' prompts in order to give us something to work with! Since last year was my first year, that still gives me a lot of options.
Ergo...here's today's, using the prompt Envoy from 2023!
Spoilers for the end of Shadowbringers and Endwalker below the cut!
Fourchenalt strode into the Lotus Stand with purpose and a plan in his mind.
He is here to check on his children, ensure they are well, and inform the leaders of the Eorzean nations that Sharlayan will not be proffering aid.
Not at this time, at least. If the Final Days were about to begin, as the adopted child of Galuf Baldesion claimed, they had their own preparations to complete. It would not do if they were caught off-guard by whatever dangers were coming, and were left unable to vacate the star.
He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and stepped onto the platform in the middle of the lake.
He saw his children first. Still whole, and unharmed for all the time they had spent outside of their island nation. Good. The letters Ammelianace had received continued to confirm their well-being, but he had yet to read their contents for himself. He felt he didn’t need to now.
Fourchenalt scanned the rest of the group. The Elder Seedseer, Kan-E-Senna, her guard, and…
Ah, yes. G’raha Tia, a member of the Students of Baldesion, and the Warrior of Light.
The reports he’d heard back concerning her appearance were unfortunately accurate. A red-haired miqo’te woman, dressed in the robes of a mage, with a focused gaze that came with one who had seen more than her fair share of combat.
So, this was Cross Sylvan, the Warrior of Light. A mage who had reawakened the practice of the people of Mhach, had halted the advance of the Garlean invasion of Eorzea, and many other things besides.
All these accolades, given to a single mage? It almost boggled belief.
There was no chance someone of this sort could stand against what was coming.
The meeting went as he’d expected — at first. A rejection of their request for aid, and then—“
“Father, you must ask the Forum to reconsider.”
…what is this?
Fourchenalt frowned at Alphinaud as the boy frowned back up at his father, launching himself into a speech that, while impassioned, did not sway him.
He did not miss the way the Warrior of Light’s blue eyes brightened at the boy’s words, determined and…encouraging.
Did she put him up to this? No, them — Alisaie was joining in with her brother as well.
The Warrior of Light had encouraged his children to speak up against him, turned them away from him.
He had a duty to the star, and if that meant turning his children away to keep them safe—
“If you ignore the plight of those you might save, you do not have wisdom,” spoke up a new voice. “You have indolence.”
Fourchenalt found himself meeting the gaze of the Warrior of Light. The encouraging look in her eyes was gone, replaced by something harder, harsher.
It must have been a trick of the light, but for a singular moment, it almost seemed like her eyes were glowing.
And to throw his father’s words back in his face, no less—
“I see your friend shares your misguided ideals,” Fourchenalt said. “But unlike her, you should know better.”
That got a scoff from the Warrior of Light. She thought herself above him? Her, a mere brute given a title because of her penchant for destruction?
He made it a point to not meet her gaze and continued on like he hadn’t been interrupted. “By espousing such barbaric notions, you subvert the teachings of Sharlayan and place all we have worked for in jeopardy. Alphinaud, Alisaie, as of this moment, you shall no longer bear the name Leveilleur.”
Their reactions of shock and sorrow were like attacks on his own heart, but he needed to remain strong against them. He had a duty to fulfill, and soon they would see that and return to his side.
Something like ice bore into his back as he turned and walked away from the meeting place. He almost resisted looking back.
Kan-E-Senna calling out to him, asking to speak with him in a place that they might part on better terms, caused him to look back he spoke his dismissal.
The cold gaze of the Warrior of Light, hands on her children’s shoulders, almost made him freeze.
Almost.
It wasn’t until later — much, much later, well after his return to Sharlayan — that Ameliance came to him with disapproval in her gaze and a letter in hand.
“Did you know that miqo’te will adopt children into their tribe when they are abandoned by their caretakers?” Ameliance asked. The words sounded innocent, but there was a bite to them that Fourchenalt was starting to become unfortunately familiar with after his return.
“A practice to keep families alive when their parents are no longer able to care for them, yes,” Fourchenalt replied. “Something that began when the world froze in ice, and survival was far more important than rivalries between members of tribes. Why?”
“Not only is the practice very much alive, but our children have been accepted as a part of Cross Sylvan’s family after your little stunt.”
That was not what he had wanted for them! “She has no right to—”
“No right?” Ameliance inclined her head at him, raising an eyebrow. “After you denied them any claim to the family name, I think she has every right.”
Suddenly Fourchenalt’s footing felt far more unstable, but he had to remain firm. This was for their own good; he needed to focus on his task, not—
“I hope you fare well sleeping in the guest room tonight,” Ameliance said mildly. “You spend more time in your office than at home, anyway.”
A low blow. “Ameliance—“
“I still love you, Fourchenalt, but I think, in this moment, you have caused a critical blunder that you will not be recovering from in the near future.”
Fourchenalt straightened his back. As much as he and Ameliance knew that was a low blow indeed, he had a duty to fulfill. One that would save his wife and children both.
If he had to endure their hate and silence until the truth was revealed, then so be it.
Posting a day late? Yes, but I was sick yesterday and my brain was blah so some things got pushed back.
I wasn't sure what to do with this prompt (the word was "Crag" yesterday), so I just let my brain wander a little with this one. Not sure if this is "canon" to Cross' story yet or not (mostly because I haven't written that far yet), but it was a good experiment regardless.
Spoilers for 5.0 Shadowbringers!
Cross looked up at the craggy cliffs cutting Kholusia in half, frowning.
“Something on your mind?” Thancred walked over.
“Just wondering how people would travel up and down the cliffs before the Ladder was built,” Cross replied. “After all, tis likely there were other, less safe passages to take to reach the land above the cliffs.”
“Hm.” Thancred inclined his head, looking up at the steep cliffs that rose high above their heads. “It certainly is a possibility. Man’s curiosity causes us to explore to greater heights, after all.” He frowned at her. “I should hope you are not considering climbing these cliffs without support, in an attempt to reach the top before the Ladder is functional. A fall from that height would harm even you, I imagine.”
Cross shook her head at the question. “Merely speculation, naught more. I have little interest in climbing when we have a safer solution before us.”
That, and the growing discomfort in her chest. The pressure that had begun to build after the last Light Warden, and a part of her dreaded what would happen when they caught up with Vauthry. Absorbing sin eater and man at once…that would not be pleasant.
She hoped his soul did not get mixed up in that mess as well. Or, if he did, that nothing of him would linger.
“Well, I am full glad that we have an easier route before us, even if it has been some time since it has seen use.” Thancred either didn’t notice or didn’t know how to comment on Cross’ discomfort. “So take your ease, all right? You don’t need to do any fancy heroics to get the Ladder moving.”
So he had noticed.
“I appreciate it,” Cross said.
“Of course. Now, I believe the others will want you nearby for a first ride up to the top of the cliffs. Shall we?”
The prompt I pulled from the prompt generator was "Off the Hook!" so I went for something ARR-related.
Mostly because of my own experience with the Feast of Famine quest. If you know, you know.
Cross reeled in sharply—
—and sighed heavily at the sight of an empty hook.
“Again the Takitaro eludes me,” she muttered. “And the bait broke on top of everything else.” She reached into the tacklebox on the damp stone next to her and pulled out another wriggling wormand started affixing it to her hook. “Why did I think fishing would be a calming endeavor after everything that’s happened recently…?”
Wawalago had warned her that the Namitaro was a known troublemaker for fishers — and not because of the Namitaro itself, but because of the fish that needed to be caught in order to get the Namitaro’s attention.
The rumbling thunder above Cross’ head faded, but the crawling feeling of lightning remained. She ignored it and cast her hook into the water.
“I’ve faced more dangerous things than thunderstorms,” Cross said to the air. “You will have to do more than that to make me vacate my fishing spot.”
Besides, there was something gently aetherial about fishing in Urth’s Font. Something about the glow of the crystal Odin had been sealed in was…beautiful, in a subdued sort of way.
If there was anything good about fishing for the Namitaro, it was the view.
The air started feeling heavy as the light faded to something dreary. Something tense.
Cross’ line bobbed in the water, then went still as the wind died completely.
Instead of relaxing against the rock wall behind her, Cross’ body only grew more tense. The hair on the back of her neck started standing on end.
Something just out of her line of sight splashed. Heavy, but not loud.
A creature snorted. Metal clinked.
Only Cross’ learned instincts kept her from leaping to her feet, or looking in the direction the sounds came from.
Fishers are quiet. Fishers are still. Fishers are one with nature, one with water.
Deep, calm breaths. Don’t think about the horse-riding primal.
Don’t think about Odin.
The horse snorted again. The hoof falls turned and started to fade.
The tension in the air did not ease.
Cross reeled in her rod, grabbed her tacklebox, and vanished in a teleport.
Eikonslayer she may be, but even she had her limits. And fighting an elder primal with her fishing gear was one of them.
She’d probably be back with a squad of adventurers, if Gridania’s Adventurers’ Guild didn’t send a group out first.
Last day of September, and last prompt for FFXIVWrite! Many thanks to S'milo for his prompt generator!
My final prompt was "Frost." Let's see how well Cross will deal with adapting to Coerthas' cold. Spoilers for the gap between ARR and HW!
No matter how close she was to the hearth, Cross did not feel warm.
She sat on the warmed stones in front of the fireplace, close enough to feel the warmth and far enough away that the errant embers wouldn’t singe the blankets she was wrapped in.
Blankets she’d dragged from bed to keep the warmth tented under them, rather than expose herself to the colder air.
“You are not adapting well to the cold, I see.”
Cross looked up to meet Haurchefant’s slight frown. She blinked at him, then looked away to watch the flames. Tataru had probably sent him to check on her.
“I grew up in Thanalan,” Cross said. “Sleeping here leaves me feeling like frost is forming on the tips of my fingers.”
“Ah.” Haurchefant sounded sympathetic. “Yes, that would have an impact. Even before the Calamity, Coerthas has always been cold. If you had been here five years ago. I doubt it would have felt any warmer than it is now.”
Cross shuddered under the blankets.
“I am sure the difference in climes will ease, given time,” Haurchefant assured. “I have yet to gain permission for entry to Ishgard for the three of you, and any Crystal Braves that may attempt to reach us will be stopped at the Observatorium.”
Cross felt her lungs freeze at the mention of Alphinaud’s failed grand company.
“If any of them do,” Haurchefant added. “My scouts have yet to hear anything about soldiers dressed in that deep blue garb approaching Coerthas, and I doubt they will make an attempt at any point in the future.”
The cold in her lungs moved to her heart. A distant, quiet thought. They deserve to pay for turning their backs on the Scions.
She pushed it away. Buried it deep. Shuddered.
“I don’t want to see any of them if they do show their faces,” Cross said shortly.
A quiet pause. Then—
“Of course,” Haurchefant said smoothly. “They won’t be allowed any closer than the Observatorium, you have my word. Now — how about we get you out of those blankets, hm? I doubt it’s quite your style, but I have a few clothes here that are of Ishgardian make that are far more suited to the weather. I’ve left them on the bed for you to try, but I do expect you to join us for breakfast.”
Cross gave him a slight nod. “Of course.”
Cross waited until Haurchefant’s presence had left her borrowed room before she burrowed herself even deeper into the blankets, seeking warmth.
But the cold in her heart at the reminder of the Braves stole even that comfort away from her.
Prompt today was "Unctuous," which was a rather curious term.
Managed to come up with something, though!
Spoilers for Heavensward below!
The outfit was not something Cross would have chosen. It was uncomfortable, pulled at her in ways it should not have, and was certainly not designed for a miqo’te’s tail.
Tataru’s quick work with sewing a hole into the back had been the only thing to save her tail. But there was little that could be done for anything else on short notice.
“You do not seem to be enjoying yourself.”
Cross sighed and looked at the elezen next to her. “I grew up in a backwater town far from gatherings like this, with these kinds of customs. The only gatherings I’ve attended of this kind were….” She remembered the gathering she’d been forced to flee from and shook her head sharply. “The last one did not end well. I will simply put it that way.”
“…I see.” Artoirel inclined his head at Cross. She didn’t like how he wanted to look down his nose at her. He likely had opinions about this strange woman brought in from the nations to the south, and Cross did not want to give him more reason to look down at her.
“I’m more comfortable in quiet places away from…parties, like this,” Cross added. She nodded towards the gathering of people in the hall — Ishgardian nobility, elezen and hyurian. None of them were familiar faces. All of them side-eyed Cross like she was some new oddity.
To be fair, in a way, she was. But the opulence they displayed in their dresses and coats and the food available to them made her skin crawl.
“I understand that desire, but this is your debut to Ishgardian’s society, and you are required to present yourself, and make a good first impression.”
“At least fighting primals was far more straightforward….”
Artoirel snorted. He didn’t sound like he believed her. “Dragoons likely feel the same way, like as not. But you will have to face this battle in a different matter.”
Cross scoffed. “Easier said than done, as I need to fight with words. I would sooner practice my ability to transpose while meditating.”
That made the man pause.He gave her a long look, then shook his head. “Consider it instead a parry of sorts. You are reacting to them, but do it in a way that reveals little and much.”
“…I’ll consider it.”
Something in Cross’ expression and voice must have made the elezen consider the conversation done. He inclined his head, then stepped away to leave her to her own devices.
Cross watched him go, then shook her head and looked towards the crowds of people again.
Someone met her gaze. Cross gritted her teeth and set her jaw.
Parries, huh? She leaned some Paladin skills from her time in Ul’dah. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
Prompt today was "pitch!" Didn't take long for me to figure out what I wanted to do with it.
Takes place not long after the end of 6.0 Endwalker, so expect some spoilers from earlier expansions!
Tataru sighed heavily and shook her head at the stack of notes Cross had just handed her. The words “Thought the First was an inspired fever dream while recovering from fight with Zenos as Ghimlyt Dark” told her everything she needed to know about this latest attempt.
Judging by the additional notes written and scribbled out on the page, this was Cross attempting to sound nicer than she could be.
“These biography types don’t seem to understand how exactly to pitch their works to their source as proper reading material, do they?” Tataru asked into the air.
G’raha looked up from his pile of Students paperwork and looked down the table at Tataru. “What horrors have been wrought this time?”
“The latest one seems to believe that the First was naught more than a strange dream, believing that Cross was in a coma for the duration.” Tataru pushed away the stack of notes, frowning. “What I wouldn’t give to ask that faerie friend of yours to plague him with dreams until he says otherwise, but I doubt that will be enough to convince him.”
“Perhaps not, but I am sure Feo Ul would delight in doing a number of things to someone who annoyed Cross so.” G’raha put his quill aside. “Implying that they do not exist would be quite the annoying thought for them.”
“It would!” shouted Cross’ voice from down the hall of nap rooms.
“You had better not be getting out of bed!” Krile shouted from next to G’raha. “If you break open those wounds again—”
G’raha leaned away from Krile to lessen the volume in his ears.
“I’m not, I’m not!”
Tataru shook her head as Cross no doubt scrambled back to bed before she could make Krile more annoyed at her desire for movement. “I should have a conversation with some people here in Sharlayan about their choice of biographers. If any more come here with a sales pitch and an excerpt, hoping to not become the next heavily annotated laughingstock, they should do more research than what these last three fools did. The last two questioned heavily the events in the Praetorium, and the one before them implied she was having relations with multiple Scions. Apparently, there was some confusion regarding whether or not she was a Keeper or a Seeker.”
G’raha shuddered violently. “I remember that conversation.”
“At least Emmanellain accepted the corrections with grace and pulled his work from shelves,” Krile said dryly. “Although, I have no doubt he is attempting to re-publish his fictional tale with those involved all under different names.”
“I intend to get him for it if he does,” Tataru replied. “Cross made it a point to acknowledge in her comments that he was trying to fallow in his father’s footsteps. How well he managed it is another matter.”
She’s agreed not to go after him for monetary compensation, but only because Cross had been so thorough in her written lambasting of his work. If it happened again, there was no guarantee the end result would be as kind.
“Let me see if I can find a few colleagues who are more willing to take words and reports at face value,” Krile offered. “At the very least, it will take some mental stress away from Cross if these writing pitches continue.”
Tataru clapped her hands together. “Please do! It will take some of the stress away from me as well.”
“I will see what I can do, then, but no promises I will turn someone up right away.”
“A promise is better than nothing.” Tataru was more than willing to wait for someone who actually knew what they were doing, rather than someone who claimed as such.
Maybe then Cross would be far less inclined rant angrily whilst confined to bed and divert the energy she needed for recovery to emotional outbursts.
