#ffxiv write 2023

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Prompt #28: Blunt.

I once tried a dalliance with Jacke,

But it turned out I don't have the knack,

He said "I'll be blunt,

You're no good at the front,

So perhaps you should try round the back?"

Absolutely innocent and wholesome silliness.

[umbralaether]

FFXIV Write 2023

Prompt: Ring

A pair of ring-shaped stains of hot cocoa left behind on the desk.

That was the first haunted piece of him she discovered after the initial purge of his things from her room. She could not stand to see the remnants, the things left behind after his soul ceased to be, and chose to pack them away and deliver to House Fortemps. “Take them, please, I cannot bear it.”

It nagged, though. A sharp sense of loss, of emptiness.

She forces herself forward, into her duty, picking up odd jobs on the side. She wanted to stay busy, occupied enough to prevent more ghosts from sneaking in, yet no joy was found in helping others. They saw benevolence where she hid her pain— she was only doing it to quiet the noise of blame ringing over and over in her ears. Should have been faster, stronger… should have never let him come…

After the empty, came the numb.

She no longer cared about the lingering stares of others when the lack of sleep formed dark rings under her eyes— a consequent worth the cost, for memories that refused to fade. She begged to forget, not continue to find him in yellow blooms and light blue cloth, in the smell of chocolate and mint, rich and delicate. She swears to never love again, not like this.

But time goes on, as it always does. The loss fades, and wounds heal, the grief now but a small wisp of hurt.

She feels the warm glow of joy in her chest again when helping others. She laughs when Alisaie and Alphinaud bicker, finds fascination with Y’shtola’s theories and Thancred’s attempts at beating her at cards.

She warms, and learns to smile again.

[uncommonsprig]

FFxivWrite2023 Participation Prize

It’s Fink ya’ll!!!!

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Prompt #2: Bark

Haurchefant toed the body of a slain imperial solider, a scowl crossing his features. The Fury had seemed to favor Camp Dragonhead. Some hours before he'd received word of imperial troops having made it into Coerthas under cover of a blizzard. When it came to Garlean encroachment upon his home, the Silver Fuller only had one rule.

Annihilation.

Even more so now, considering that Fortemps' holding was the home of the Fury's chosen vessels--Augustine and Mathye Bishop. The silver-haired elezen exhaled, breath puffing out in white clouds. Behind him he could hear the bark of orders being given, Corentiaux was directing the clean-up effort. The clear weather wouldn't last long, another storm was predicted to move in.

"This is the third anti-magic squad in as many months." He commented. "I feel I need to ask, has the Fury directed you to pass judgement upon the nonbelievers and I wasn't invited?"

"If there was an offensive against the Empire, you would be the first one we'd invite." Snow crunching under his boots, the blue-armored form of Augustine Bishop came up alongside the master of Camp Dragonhead. No longer semi-Primed, he was back to his normal self.

"As for this, you've heard the news from outside. The Black Wolf is on the march." Augustine squatted next to the dead man, patting him down and inspecting his pockets.

"With how he took over Ala Mhigo, it makes sense that he'd look at us. You know how the Vault reacted to my brother's Priming. And Ser Wrymblood's own. We're all just only barely getting along and even then."

"Scouts." Haurchefant mused.

"We're probably not the only ones dealing with this. Ser Borel's contacts have told him that Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda are active. Plus there was word of a unknown Eikon showing up in Limsa." Augustine considered the small pile of items he'd put together. Scraps of paper, a tomestone, a carved figurine of a man in red wood, and a locket. The tomestone was set to the side, along with the papers. The figurine and the locket went back in the dead man's pockets.

"May you enjoy peace on the other side." He murmured, bowing his head. Haurchefant echoed the prayer, watching as Augustine stood up.

"So the Black Wolf is testing for weaknesses then?" He asked. "That makes for ill hearing." Augustine didn't respond immediately, his gaze flicking towards the Nail.

"If I were you, I'd see about getting some men together to investigate Castrum Aquilonis." He said. "Like you said, the third incursion as in many months? They can't be coming from outside."

[eorziapple]

FFXIV WRITE 2023 Prompt 1: Envoy

(( Character: Apple Silverberg, Setting: WoL Apple Mild Endwalker spoilers))

"So we're playing at diplomats?" Apple queried

Thancred flashed her that reassuring smile that always somehow made her worry -more-. "Not entirely playing at that, we mean to get them on board to helping Eorzia, and well, the entire world."

"Thine confusion is quite understandable." Urianger piped in. "Thus is our intended result, yet -not- the approach in which we aim to achieve this endeavor, despite Master Alphinaud's ever optimistic outlook."

Apple chuckled, remembering her first meeting with the young Leveilleur, far too young and far too confident, trying to impress the upper classmen like herself. Very much the opposite approach to her time at Old Sharlayan.

"Precisely." Thancred turns to pack up his pack and furling his long jacket over his shoulders. "We're just old Students visiting home. Can't be blamed if in doing so we discover the source of their reluctance to aid their fellow man and convince them of the folly of their ways."

Apple sighed and began packing, "Curious though, why are we waiting for the others to go first? I figured my cover as an Arcanist would play better alongside Y'shtola?"

Thancred shoots Urianger an amused look, while the latter takes one on himself as he looks down to his young charge.

"My Lady, thou art most esteemed amongst thy peers in both intellect and arcane might. But on the subject of subterfuge and deception...."

"Apple, everyone knows you're a terrible liar. We're here to do it on your behalf."

Another frustrated sigh escapes her lip.

[vulpes-ferus]

FFXIV Write 2023 #8: Shed

Three

Hundred

Years

The world had changed in so many ways - so many wars, so many advancements - and yet, the people were seemingly no different.

'Miyako', so she'd long ago dubbed herself in the tongue of man, had decided it was time to shed her old skin - her old self. The face of a woman who had won the love of a noble... the face of a woman who had gotten swept up in human emotions, only to be caught like the fox she'd actually been.

There was no chance that anyone would recognize her, now - the Doman face she'd stolen all those years ago had been from centuries prior to the lives of these little people. All the same, the East remembered other things - the people of the East knew to be wary of the drifting lights at night. They knew to beware the soft, feminine call for help at the side of the road... they might not know about her - but the legends of her kind had survived. And no doubt, the other auspices she knew were about in the East would eventually sniff her out and take her away somewhere else no doubt far more boring.

And so Akane had taken a new face, as she danced beneath the light of the moon - a more difficult task, with four legs instead of two - but that was the way the ancient deed was done; to become a man, one must first return to fur, and forest: the perfect stick, the perfect leaf, the perfect skull... the perfect dance, the perfect song.

A new face, for a new age.

A new skin, for a new land.

And in her new hand - the soft, white glow of the same soul - the small orb-like pendant still strung on a slip of crimson silk ribbon.

[the-sycophant]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt 04 - Off the Hook

Words | 795 -------------------- The heat was an undeniable burden, the light blouse she wore immediately clinging to skin even after leather gloved fingers attempted to tug at it for a bit of relief. The air was stagnant, quiet, each buzz of an insect or rustling in the underbrush only drawing her lips down further into a frown. She half wondered if she might see her breath in a puff of steam, reminiscent of home, the heat prickling her skin in uncomfortable ways as she fidgeted.

She pinched at the fabric sticking to her breasts, the toe of one boot scratching at an ankle before moving to kick at a sorry root that had been beaten down from the same repetitive motion. Long eyelashes fluttered, irritated by sticky, ash blonde bangs.

Her teeth chewed into the flesh of her cheek, nibbling into it as a distraction from the unbearable boredom of her station, digits now tapping a wild rhythm against her thigh. "I think we've waited long enough." Came her grumble then, hoarse. "There will be nothing for us by the end of this."

"Such impatience." Returned an equally low murmur as her companion moved for the first time in what felt like hours compared to her own constant squirming, the tips of his gauntlets scratching at his throat. "You know as soon as we finish you must return, yes? You do so...rrrarely get out, I'd thought you'd enjoy it more."

Her gloves creaked, palm sliding back and forth over the hilt of her blade, dancing along the engraved ridge of the ricasso. "You know what I enjoy, more so what I have the patience for." She tossed it up, twirling it once in the air, then a second time before attempting to catch it behind her back. "I have been on my very best behaviour and still," the poignard bounced in the grass, thumping softly before she bent to retrieve it with a huff, exasperated with the minimal effort, "and still I am stuck here with you."

"You? Stuck with me?"

She looked up at him up in his perch, frowning at the tone and baring her teeth briefly. It wasn't something she would dare press further into despite the burning need to lash out against the bait dangled so temptingly in front of her. More so with his impassive attitude. "The more quickly we finish, the more quickly we can pretend it has taken us longer than it actually has, yes?" She suggested with a sniff, a hand resting against his tree as she tilted her head to the side. "You could take me into town, you know. I would still be on my best behaviour even for you. I wouldn't tell anyone!"

He hummed. "Mother has a prrroclivity for spoiling you still, I see."

"Such is my nature, is it not? To crave more?" The muscles in her legs were taut, certainly more used to downy pillows and laced stockings than stiff boots and, gods forbid, standing. She couldn't help but squat against the tree, glaring at...everything. Carelessly she ripped out sprouts of budding grass, pouting childishly as her tone dipped into a near whine. "It isn't my fault she indulges me, is it? Not only that, but is that not why you left home? In search for more?" Another sniff, indignant. "She would show you just as much affection were you to stop your travels and visit more often."

An easy shrug. "Perhaps. I can't really say." A flick of long ears, swatting and swiveling at pesky bugs, the thin tip of his tail doing the same. Was he more sweet than she, to have such attention from them? An odd sort of jealousy nipped at her heels. "She certainly does love us equally, though it cannot be denied some children are more needy than others."

She folded her hands around her knees, rocking. "Some like feeling needed, you know." He hummed again, and she made a noise of displeasure. "They do. Is that not why you've brought me along?"

"No."

A long pause, silence meeting her ears once more as she waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. She wasn't sure if he was trying to rile her up, to try and alleviate his own boredom at her expense, as he did. He seemed otherwise content to sit still in silence, but she preferred movement and sound.

As her mouth opened for something witty, surely, they both jerked their heads westward, his ears turning and her nostrils flaring. Blood. Limping. The sounds of an attempted escape snapping branches and rustling leaves. "I am at your ready, sister." He said quietly, and the Keeper was still once more. It seemed he was off the hook for conversation, and she grinned at more interesting prospects quickly approaching.

[miqojak]

FFXIV Write #15: Portentous

She was a portentous little woman - and yet, few could ascertain how much truth to those airs there truly was... or, in reality, few were brave enough to test her, and find out for themselves - which made it true enough, didn't it?

The long-timers in Bluesky could do nothing but shake their heads as young recruit after recruit pushed her, testing the imperious little woman who sat in every seat as though it were a throne, and all those around her were little more than drifting motes of dust taking up her space.

Some lost fingers. Some never showed back up - running for the hills as soon as she pulled their ribs open with no more than mere words, intuiting and exposing their innermost vulnerabilities to all... things that didn't have to happen, if they just showed a bit of respect for authority in the Family.

If there wasn't a reason to test those waters, why find out if all that self-importance was rooted in legitimate power? What else does such confidence spring forth from, if not a legitimate claim?

When she moved through a room, her diminutive size belied the aura about her - the ramrod straight posture, the confident stride, the absolute disregard for anyone or anything that wasn't immediately important to her, or her goals; it was hard to not be either impressed, or... rubbed quite the wrong way by the dismissive, regal nature of this woman, but there was no denying her presence; at least not for those who had chosen to test it - even if few were left who had tried to challenge her. After all - one can run, but a Jackal always collects its due.