#gharl

[soapwyrt]

𝓞𝓭𝓱𝔃𝓪𝔂𝓪 𝓖𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵 - 𝒜𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓅𝑒

I don’t know why, but my Odhzaya here instills something in me that makes me basically live in Gpose when I play her. I just want to take all the scenic photos with her. ♥

[dirt-str1der]

I cant do this anymore just learned that grandpa harley got more pussy than the entire rest of the show combined queen was right the man was a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb about to oh oh oh oh oh explode inside you (deep) and have irl baby crossing

[endangered-liaison]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #9: Lush

The seas around the Crooked Coin are blue, clear, and peaceful.

The steelship does not so much bob in the modest waves as it does sit, squat and strong, as the waves break across its bow. Unyielding and unmoving to this paltry resistance.

Some distance away, a trio of small boats make landfall, their keels breaching the soft, golden sand of the island they've stumbled upon.

It isn't on any of the charts, by the navigator's measure - nor the captain's. Not that the captain knows these seas with any reliability.

This is, in truth, the furthest they have ever travelled from Othard.

The other crewmembers whoop and leap ashore. Two splash in the waves, chasing after each other. Nessuna, the quartermaster, scampers through the sand toward the treeline, where there are bright, lush trees with some sort of huge, brightly-coloured fruit growing from their branches.

All of them seem delighted for this brief reprieve.

The captain simply watches. Breathes in the sea air; the hints of life; the sand; the surf.

After a time, they lift a bag from the boat, and hop ashore after the rest of the crew.

"We stay for two bells!" They call.

They don't stop the others in their play. This is to try and find supplies, for the most part - wood to patch a weakness in the hull, food, water if they can find it. Anything that might be valuable and might sell well. But they know the crew will get to that. They all just need a moment, to burn off the excitement of coming ashore.

They pad through the sand with caution. Intentional slowness. Feeling each step, each crunch. The changing sound and texture and colour as the sand goes from wet and muddy, to crisp and dry and hot.

Once they find themselves on fully dry ground, they hum, and tug their boots off. Their toes, dark blue against the golden sand, wiggle. The sand is warm. Almost scorching, with it so close to noon. The captain likes it. It warms their skin and helps them to feel more alert; more alive.

They leave their boots behind, and start to walk along the beach.

The island is small, they know. Tiny. Little more than a lump of sand sticking out of the ocean. It takes them less than a bell to circle most of the way around. But they're searching for something, and they'll know it when they find it.

Finally, they stop.

The Crooked Coin is framed perfectly with the skyline. The ocean and the sky are one, a bright, vivid blue, with the sun's light sparking from its surface bright enough to blind. The sun's light almost matches the sand beneath their feet, whiter here than the gold on the rest of the island.

The captain smiles, and kneels down.

Here.

This is perfect.

They pull the bag from their back and untie it, before pulling a large jar from the canvas.

It's filled with dark, loamy earth, and they rub their thumb over its glass with care and affection.

Kaira Gharl focuses.

The lid is removed, and the dirt is poured in a circle around them. Against the bright sand, its darkness is even more striking; the deep brown seems almost black in comparison.

Their fingers push into the sand, wiggling a little as Kaira takes a slow breath.

The shore.

The sea.

The sky.

The steppe.

All of it is connected, in an unbroken chain.

This is just another link.

They allow the peace to wash over them, cleansing them of worries and fears. Their fingers curl, dragging sand from the ground and allowing it to slip through their hands.

 A bell later, the rowboats are loaded up with supplies. One of the crewmembers is chewing on some strange plant stem that he swears tastes like sugarcane. Nessuna says that if he gets poisoned again she's not going to give him any of their medication.

Kaira grins, turning the rudder a little to steer them closer toward the Crooked Coin. Its black metal hull paints an ominous picture against the blue, but they aren't afraid of it. They are its captain.

Their ship holds a loyal crew.

Their boats hold whatever supplies they could take from a jungle unlike any they've seen before.

And their bag holds a jar, filled to the brim with bright, golden sand.

Another link in the chain.

[crocutaqueen]

My WHM Xaela in his tiny lizard days. 

[veliona-xiv]

I have often dreamed... Of a far off place.

[ofawitheredrose]

“ NUGAI DORTHAL! After ALL this time--” -Tuya,

“ Eh, what... T-Tuya—you here... of all places...?” -Nugai.

[ofawitheredrose]

Chabi Gharl.

I can't get over how cute she is, this is an honest and pure child. No sin will ever stain her name--or will it? 

[ofawitheredrose]

The Lord and The Lady.