#entry 18

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite22 Entry #18: Extremes

FFxivWrite 2022 FFxivWrite22 Masterpost Prompt #18: (you pick!) Barbariccia Arena of hair; it’s gross Just let me clear it

[tale-of-two-places]

The Artist Formerly Known as Sméagol

Livingston does a great job describing the connection between Tolkien’s experiences in WWI and The Lord of The Rings, especially in the PTSD that Frodo experiences once his journey begins to come to a close, PTSD from Weathertop, the ring, Shelob’s lair, and the journey as a whole. While I think all of this is well-founded and I largely agree with it, I couldn’t help but think of another character who exhibits similar symptoms throughout the story: Gollum.

Try to disagree with me when I say Gollum’s kind of messed up, in the head and probably the rest of his body if we’re being realistic here. As stated by the title, Gollum was once just the Hobbit Sméagol, not much unlike Frodo. And I think that it’s easy to forget or ignore that he is also a victim, a victim of the ring and of Sauron. But specifically, we see this as he guides Frodo and Sam through the Marshes and Shelob’s lair through the mountains and into Mordor. We see it when they encounter the wraith over the Dead Marshes, “Gollum would not move. He stood shaking and gibbering to himself” and by his volatile reaction to actually seeing the wraith (Tolkien, 783-784).

He also seems to have some sort of fear of the sunlight, which is likely just a symptom of his condition, along with his multiple personality disorder that the ring has brought on. But when he mentions his fear of “The Yellow Face” (capitalized no less) which can’t see him in the shadows, I was reminded of the visual of Sauron’s eye, thinking perhaps that’s what Gollum was thinking of (773). We know that Gollum was at one point in the hands of Sauron, or rather his servants. But we don’t know exactly how awful that experience likely was for him, we only catch glimpses of it. But I think he’s clearly experienced some very traumatic things over his life, just not in quite the same way as our friends Frodo and Tolkien.

[grow1ng-gurl]

Entry #18

So, turns out that Jessie’s worries about me eating her out of house and home weren’t completely off. I’ve started getting more and more hungry recently. The two days since my last entry, I ate like twice as much for breakfast and lunch. Oh, and I got fired from my job, but oh well. Evan’s got a good job, so he’ll be able to take care of me.

I think I might start going outside and live there, since it’s getting warmer out and I am fitting less and less inside here. I’m only like a hands-width from the ceiling. Of course, my hand’s a little big, so it seems closer, but I should probably get out soon.

[alistair-phoenix]

Prompt #18: Wilt

Seventh Umbral Era, Six Moons after the Fall of Dalamud A young man with dark hair that was tied and reached mid-back was walking through the Black Shroud. He wore a cloak as green as the grass he walked on and held a staff with a crook in the end with an orb held inside. A satchel hung loosely off of his shoulder, its contents unknown to all but him. [Certainly looks like an Elven Forest...] The man spoke out loud, seemingly to no one. The man had traveled a small distance on foot from where he began. Along the way he had made many observations about his surroundings, finding them to be familiar and yet not. The air felt different to them as well. Eventually, this man had come across a small settlement just along the trodden road. He approached a sign just a ways before and attempted to decipher it. The sign read “Bentbranch Meadows”. The man furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin, perplexed by the characters on the sign. [Odd... I do not recognize these letters.] “There they are, they finally made it!” A gruff voice called out to the man. The wanderer turned his attention to the one calling out to him. It was a Roegadyn, dressed in ragged and worn clothing, a farmer no doubt. “Yer from th' Conjurer's Guild, eh?  We need yer help.” The Roegadyn beckoned the man to follow with the wave of his hand. The scholar stood there, confused on what he was told. He did understand the motion the farmer was giving him and he followed after them. [That is no Elf.] He uttered as he adjusted his glasses. The day becoming much more interesting for him. The farmer guided him through the settlement, speaking in a tongue the traveler had not heard before. He was seeing things he had never seen before as well. Namely the giant crystal looming in the center of the area. What was its purpose? Eventually he was taken to a field of withering and wilting crops where several others were gathered. “We've got our Conjurer. Let's hope it's not too late.” The Roegadyn addressed his fellow farmers. “About time.” An Elezen spoke up. “They can tell us what's going on.” The Lalafell spoke. “Well, Midlander, get to it.” The female Highlander addressed the stranger. The Roegadyn turned to the mage. “Er, don't mind 'em. Times're pretty tough right now.” The man tilted his head, uncertain about what was trying to be conveyed to them. He approached the field of crops and knelt down to check the land. He discovered that some of the land was dry, some of it also bore a strange feeling as well. In fact, everything had felt strange that day. Some had even shown signs of disease. Perhaps a bit of water could fix this issue. Not immediately but enough to soak the land. He assumed these farmers were not providing enough nourishment for the soil. He would then tell them about their crops that were touched by disease. The “Conjurer” returned to the farmers before he turned to their field. “Well? Are they mad or somethin’?” The Lalafell piped up. The mage raised his staff and the orb in the crook began to glow. He then waved his staff, pointing it towards the field. Silence. The farmers looked to the fields, to the man, and then around. “Did it work?” The Elezen asked out loud. [Nothing happened?] The magic-user looked to his staff, befuddled. He raised his staff one more time, repeating the motions, only this time he held onto a light blue crystal he pulled from his bag. The sound of rushing water could be heard behind everyone. The Highlander turned her head and paled at what she saw. The rest soon followed with mixture of surprise, fear, and shock. A wall of water had formed behind them and was in the process of falling on them. The mage was the last one to turn to see the wave. [I believe I have made an error.] He uttered as the wave crashed down on all of them and the crops.

[housealderscorn]

Entry #18: Self Control

Magalie paced back and forth, her eyes never leaving the damnable chest that sat on the stout workbench. She glared at it, her jaw tight and lips drawn in a frustrated pucker as if she could force it to open by sheer intimidation.

And why not? Thus far nothing else she tried had worked. The floor was littered with the tools of her efforts; hammers, pry bars of increasing length, a cutting torch, long depleted of fuel, and a set of locksmithing tools, the picks thrown and scattered in a fit.

The chest, wrought of dark mysterious metal engraved with intricate patterns, was part of an estate lot that she’d bought at auction. She was more interested in the art collection but, once appraised and sold, she turned her attention to the rest. Most of it was trash, of course. Dusty clothes that were decades out of fashion, dolls and toys, cracked dishware and other worthless heirlooms. Among them, however, was the chest.

At first it seemed to be a rusty old footlocker, stashed among the contents of an attic. Something about it caught her attention, though, and she had it brought from storage to the small workshop situated in the corner of the warehouse. It had no lock that she could see, but an obvious hinge. No handles or adornment aside from the shallow etchings that had been revealed after it was cleaned up.

Once the conventional methods had been exhausted, she’d attempted some aetherical manipulations. She had calmed herself the best she could and focused as she had learned, releasing a sharp, scathing needle of aether to no avail.

She tried again, and again, gathering a fraction more energy with each attempt, her anger building with each failure. She could feel herself reach the point where she could no longer keep her emotions reined in and her spells started to become unpredictable. Her aim was beginning to waver and she’d burned a hole through the steel workbench but she continued.

Magalie balled her hands into tight fists, nails cutting into her palms, and growled through her gritted teeth. Breath tore in and out of her lungs, her chest rising and falling in wavering hitches as she pulled greedily at the aether around her. She filled herself with it, forced it, bent it into her shape.

She could not see. She could not breathe. She felt as if she could drown in the exquisite depths of the stolen aether that begged for release. She denied it, bound it to herself, curling her strong fingers around its neck until she could bare it no more.

As the veil lifted from her senses, Magalie found herself on her knees amid smoke and ash feeling the weight of exhaustion on every fiber of muscle. Her silver eyes fluttered open and she squinted through the sulfuric mist.  The chest was gone as was the table and a wide swath of floor. Papers fluttered to the about her, and somewhere a shelf tipped over and spilled its contents crashing to the floor.

Magalie sighed. “Well, shit.”

[hiccup446]

So I’m watching Marble Hornets and Entry #18.... Masky... Dat jump doh.

He fucking sprung off that couch and I screamed i was so surprised....

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite Entry #18: Devil’s Advocate

FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt #18: Devil’s Advocate “I’m just saying--what if what’s happening in the Garlean Empire isn’t entirely a good thing, you know?” the man gestured with one hand as he spoke, leaning back casually into his chair.

“Oh? You mean like you feel bad for the citizens there? Or you’re worried about what might happen to us here?” the woman seated across from him at their table for two asked, her hands clasped beneath her chin as she listened with interest.

Faye silently lingered nearby, waiting for a lull in the couple’s conversation so that she might politely interrupt and drop off the tray of tea and treats she held in her hands.” “Huh? Oh, no, not really. I just mean the Empire wasn’t that bad, right?” “What? Of course they were,” the woman retorted, her expression of rapt interest now edging toward annoyance. “Just--think about it, you know? I’m not saying they’re good. But maybe there’s something to it? You just have to look at it from a different point of view. All those places that got conquered, they obviously didn’t hold their own very well. Just look at Ala Mhigo. They were crumbling and no better under the mad king. At least the Empire is educating people, teaching them to fight, letting them join their armies… I wouldn’t want them to take over Eorzea, obviously, but wouldn’t it be nice if they really could do something about all the beastmen and Primals? Is any of that really so bad?” “You can’t be serious right now.” “What? You know I don’t, like, really believe any of that. I’m just being the devil’s advocate here.” Clearing her throat softly to announce her presence, Faye stepped up to the table, carefully placing the tray down between the two. “Pray pardon my intrusion. Here’s your order.” She moved away to leave the couple to their food and drink, but paused. “You know… ‘devil’s advocate’ is a phrase cowards say when they lack the courage to stand behind their own foul opinions, yes?”

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite Entry #18: Panglossian

FFxivWrite 2020 Prompt #18: Panglossian Masterpost The world was beginning to fade around X’unmei and her limbs were going numb. The cool crisp of autumn’s evening bit into her skin, and she could feel the wetness of blood around her aching wound. But the last lingering, fleeting remnants of the sunset’s light on the cusp of horizon were so beautiful. The birds sounded so cheery as they concluded their songs to wish the world good night. At least nothing would hurt anymore. At least things wouldn’t be so hard anymore. And the animals of the Twelveswood who found her would fill their bellies, and the flowers that grew where she rested would grow a little taller. There was so much left to smile about, if she could only find the strength. @which-can-eternal-lie​