#ffxiv2021

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #23 ~ Uebok

Reference - ♫Gotta Run♫

A callus brute drying himself off with a towel presented before a standing mirror. That reflection previously brought him shame, of seeing his own-self. Sending him to strike against it... Now, a strange sensation pulsated inside him. His soul had labor drastic exposures to new sources and foundations. A withering flower... Was being revitalized! Harvesting in the abundance of acquaintances. Recuperating his past with courageousness. It was strange. Half his being... Was devoid, gone. Fragmented, yet. He didn't feel empty like should've. The mightiest forebear of knowledge on his Sea-Vessel. Imparted him on a spiritual journey. For a Captain who's lost, doesn't help following. Sometimes even leader's need guidance, advisement. Hence why those who have excelled, above come in pairs of insurmountable Crew; who in-turn, became new charts, compasses. The series of eyes that punctured fog. Captain had found an Inner-Guide, which hatched. Was the symbolism of him... A butterfly fluttered around his room. Where did the connection lay? The Seeker pondered back. Captain had proved, in his life, those scar's that dressed him. He held wing's but yet wasn't able to fly. These resulted in multiple failures. The Butterfly had many colors, beyond one. It's pattern was unique, diverse, there was no other like it. But the butterfly couldn't admire its own-self... Only others could. It became blind. That it received, compliment's gaze's of genuine, unconditional, admiration for it.

As well, the butterfly ran into dangers, when it finally learned how to fly, it grew too close to being snapped by the jaws of carnage, bigger than it. Captain was tasked to watch over it. As essentially, everything shares with it. If the Butterfly feels pain, so does the Seeker. If the Butterfly becomes corrupted, its poison won't heal. It'll kill. Even all those who hold it fond, no matter how delicate... Every response. It tethered in this world. What you take, has repercussions. A man can be as wicked, as humanly possible. They can go on a genocidal killing spree. Yet, there are those, who may have had a connection with such evil. If that person; died. It would hurt them. Recreating viciousness; on seas If you take down, a Captain of such magnitude. Not all will follow, which is why most Crew's won't abandon ship even if they, go-down. And in the event-some will keep it alive, rebuilding. Loyalty can be undying. The scoundrel, looking over him in this reflection as his Guide, came to shoulder. They stood there and felt. Captain. Recognized, change, comfort, hope. More than prior. His feature's of doubt, the wrinkles that came from stress, were being purged. He felt free. There were many enemies left. The board of a map behind Captain, showed many Red-X's, of travels. Places uncharted, or written too deathly. He turned into a ghost, and hid away. His past brought him into slavery as in being one, or doing the condemning of vile and treacherous unforgivable acts, because the necessity, of feeling like it was required to compare. Unironically. His worst, enemy outside of himself, was a man of nobility. They fought tirelessly but learned, they were alike, especially now. The Pirate had responsibilities, left ungoverned. What he does. Reflects and responds to nature. The Butterflies life held dependency on being maintained by his own core. When things make you uncomfortable; holds the solutions of TRUE healing. We of nature; are inclined to not continue. A trick we create by preventing our growth, nurturing. The Captain... Recalled, everyone, everything. How he presented himself, conducted, would carry his wings. The man felt alive; and he wouldn't abandon it. He withdrew to his dresser and looked through his wardrobe. Then suited up, it felt uncomfortable, too restrictive. Something he disliked. He once felt his Tricorne was a Crown that was too heavy; a burden. There were many heartbreaks, his heart when was born was small, fragile, insignificant. He was abused, crushed, and given into vices of temporal treatments. But now, he had help. The Captain exhaled relief. Seized dressing up. His posture straightened and returned to a bolster of confidence not of something deathly ill! Nothing to mourn! He was above his own mental-anguish. The steps of cure were here. Something to behold, like the wing's of a butterfly. He was living color. The philosophy of nothing can beat me; only me. Awoke.

[crownedcroweprince]

FFXIV Write : Day 6 : Avatar

Character Features: Aki'ya Morro ( @nekokeronyancer )

Content warnings for death, drowning, references to Celtic and Norse bog bodies, and necromancy.

A fog lays thick over the boggy marshes of the South Shroud. The moon lighting the moisture up like a ghost collapsing into and between the trees. Far more fitting an analogy with all the bodies resting under the peat.

One such body is being dragged from below the muddy oxygen deprived waters. Left there long enough to only be somewhat tanned by the preserving processes of the bog. No soap from the fat to be found as a Keeper looks over the body for any damage that needs to be fixed before he can get to work on reviving it.

The body is that of a Keeper woman. From another clan that the South Shroud home. Aki'ya of course doesn't know of it. He prods with his blue grey fingers, tattooed in white. Pale gray skin and white hair on this body under the mud and grime. No damage needing repairs. Seems she fell in and drowned. Lucky for her with how those from the Morro clan can kill trespassers rather brutally to protect their secrets. Eyes still intact of course, but clouded from death. It always makes him a little sad he can't see their eye colors before raising them, but sometimes the surprise is nice.

It isn't long before Aki'ya has the toxic yew wood burning in his hands, walking around the corpse as he mutters prayers. Slowly but sure his walking starts to turn into a dance, all the more when making another loop about the corpse he bends down to pick up a yew staff meant for conjury traditionally. The crystals at the top start to glow a blue, and so to does the corpse. Painted with white runes on it's head, chest, and limbs.

There's a gasp, and the sound of sputtering as the corpse sits up, all a glow. Spitting out water and mud that managed to make it's way into her lungs when she drowned and was sunk into the peat to be preserved for this ritual. A stone circle is around her, the barrier between her and Aki'ya for the duration of this ritual of his. He finishes his dance and prayers. The air now alight with blue glowing spores as he leans down and smiles at the newly risen glowing corpse.

"You'rrrrre awake. This is good. I have an offerrrr to make you. You died. Aki'ya has brrrrought you back. If you want to stay alive, become like Aki'ya of the Morro and help protect ourrrr land and secrrrrets. Or, I can let you sssssleep again. Will you be my frrrriend and family? Will you be a Morro?".

The now risen corpse stares at Aki'ya mutely for a time. Feeling her chest for a heart beat. It's there, but terribly slow and sputtering. Like a flicker of flame trying to live. She remembers dying. The water taking her. Filling her lungs. She gives a broken and hoarsy sob. She's dead now. Aki'ya simply sits and stares owlishly. Waiting for her answer. To see if she returns to the streams Menphina uses to cook the souls in love and send them to what ever comes next, or if she will stay.

"I--... I'll... I'll become a M-... Morro" she finally chokes out. Making Aki'ya grin happily because a new friend is here. He grabs her hand, pulling her up and pressing a blue crystal into her hand. It looks like it's from an aetheryte.

"Swallow that and you can live as yourrrrrself then. Yourrr mind... aether... spirrrrrit will be here until yourrrrr body gives up again. Motherrrr. Matrrrrron will help you become an avatarrrr for Menphina's love. So you can help ussss prrrrrotect ourrrr home. You will learrrrn the Morro ways. Come come. Motherrrr waits".

[adeerinnara-blog]

Prompt 30: Abstracted

Eurynine sat against the back wall of his cell, staring down at the growing stubs of his fingers. Without the elixirs and alembics he drank on a regular basis and the enchanted brass armband, the stone was regenerating relatively quickly. Though he did not dare to look beneath the uniform he wore, he could feel the stone growing upward into his biceps as well. If it reached his heart and lungs, would they function normally? What if it grew up his neck and into his brain? What then? The thoughts chilled him to the bone, a fear that returned after every sweet dream. Curling his fingers, and staring into the flashing fire of opal that had once been bone, Eury thinks bitterly ‘It should have been a quick, clean death. A letter in the mail to the Vivid Union, to Aeluan, and the copy of the will in the desk. The instructions to send out the handful of letters there too. The request ‘If you can, make sure they stay happy.’ 

Abruptly, the drone of the anthem cuts out in a hiss of static and the gears of the locked door clank as they turn, a metallic crashing that bounces off the white walls and leaves him disoriented. The door swings open, revealing first the barrel of a gun, then a pretty older woman with hard eyes. She enters the room with her gun drawn on the ‘wight, followed by a male colleague. Behind them both comes the medicus, Salvos. As the woman growls a command to lay down and cross his arms behind his back, Eurynine sneaks glances at the researcher. Even for a middle-aged man, he looked… hollowed out. Beyond distracted, he seemed haunted. He looks Eurynine in the eye but once before the Elezen’s face is pressed into the ground with a boot, and the male guard binds his arms together. Then the guards haul him up and frogmarch him out of the room, carrying him when he stumbles. The whole thing happens quickly to his bewildered mind. He is lead out into what he realizes are staff quarters when blessed dark washes over his vision, but he cannot maintain a sense of where they’ve gone or how long it took. Eventually, he is lead into a room that looks distinctly furnished for meetings with high-ranking members of the empire. There, legs crossed and sitting back in a plush chair, was the Garlean man Eurynine knew was really Hybris. It was strange to see him in such a form, but somehow not surprising. ‘Perhaps I’m dreaming again.’ With a gesture, the man in the chair who was no man at all raises an elegant brow and asks “And the things he was apprehended with?”, and the male guard turns smartly to go, returning some time (how much? He can’t keep track anymore) with the equipment he’d been seized with.

Haltingly, Selvos asks “Are you certain, sir? This one? You’ve no means of ensuring his obedience and his peculiarities are a promising area of research into the effects of aether-baed magic on living flesh.” He looks like he wants to say more, perhaps warn Hybris of the nightmares -but who would believe him?

“Quite. Have him ready for departure immediately, I am needed in the capital.”

And they complied, securing Eurynine Dyvoire some kind of freedom and making him once again a stranger in a hostile land.

[alphaeus-streamside]

[Extra Credit] Ready As We’ll Ever Be

September 12th, 2021

Alphaeus lay in bed, restlessly curled against Alecalius’s side. Tomorrow was the day. It seemed too soon, but too far away. He laid his hand flat on Alec’s chest, watching the rise and fall of his husband’s breathing. Shadows stretched deep as he listened to the relative silence. 

Sighing, he rolled over onto his back, staring up at the bed’s canopy. It wasn’t that he was particularly nervous about the Mahjong itself. The game wasn’t a threat, he was confident enough with their little crew that they would surely get what they needed out of the tournament. 

No, what bothered him was what might happen. Would there be violence, or would it be peaceful? Weapons were forbidden in the den, but that wouldn’t hinder him too badly. But what of his companions? 

Alphaeus groaned and pressed his face against Alec’s side, the other man mumbling and rolling in his sleep. 

They’d talked about that, of course. Everyone in their circle knew the risks, and had pledged to assist the others should it come to violence. Even Rhys, as shy and generally quiet as he came across, had agreed on that point. 

They were as ready as they would ever be. Alphaeus just needed to stop worrying and get some sleep. 

[luckykilljoyffxiv]

[luckykilljoyffxiv]

[redmatches]

Prompt #16: Crane

CW: Suggestive, FTB.  Slowly, Elise moved from the canvas, craning her neck towards the door. There's the telltale sign of Esen entering her home, shining and bright as always. Elise reached for the glasses, knowing Esen would either command her to put them on, or pout in some form that Elise wasn't wearing them. She can hear the footsteps tumble down the flight of stairs, and an eager greeting, followed by the warm embrace as her arms wrapped around Esen.

It mattered not, whatever Elise was working on at this moment. That could be handled later. For now, though, as always when Elise wore the glasses, she found herself craning her neck to look at Esen, while Esen's palm pushed against her abdomen, pushing Elise's back against the desk. There is no complaint, only a snicker and the desire to follow along to Esen's movements.