#illyrias

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 4: Failure/Unravel

The Elfgates had fallen. The city was under siege and they just. Kept. Coming. Wave after wave after wave. Illyrias’s arms were exhausted, the shield and sword he held dented and dirty, his face covered with black and red blood - some his own, some from the abominations he had cut down - and still…there was no end in sight.

He was tiring and it showed, every movement was flagging in both speed and accuracy. He couldn't get in enough breath, the hammering of his heart a macabre drum beating out its rhythm to accompany the screaming and the snarling and the unearthly noises coming from the horde before him. It was never ending. It was worse than any hell he had ever imagined. To see those defending the gates get cut down…only to stand back up to attack their own family, friends… it was decimating in a way he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. This was a nightmare that he would never escape from.

There had been others with him at first, but there were far less now than there had been hours ago. A lifetime ago. So few to face down so many…and Light he thought this might be the end for him. He couldn't keep it up. Every wound he'd suffered was pulling at him, taxing him, and he no longer has the strength to try to heal himself - or anyone else for that matter. It was down to brute strength and determination and he was losing that battle on both fronts.

They were losing the battle on all fronts.

They had been pushed back inside the city and the fires that had been set turned the sky overhead into an angry orange haze. And still, people were running and being cut down and he couldn't stop any of it. He could just keep focusing on what came for him next, defending those with ranged weapons behind him, swinging the sword arm that was turning numb.

A hand touched his shoulder from behind and he knew it was no undead that reached for him. He could only spare a moment to look into the blue eyes of the mage he'd come to call friend over the past few years. Sometimes more than a friend. Kalion’s face was pale, deep bruises under his eyes that spoke of his own exhaustion and the depletion of his magical resources. “The Bazaar,” he choked out, gesturing behind them. “Get everyone you can to the Bazaar.” Illyrias didn't question him, knowing Kalion could still sense magic even if he was close to burning himself out trying to use it to shield their small group. Others had to have pulled back, put shields up for Kalion to be telling him to retreat there. It had to have some modicum of security.

Illyrias nodded as slapped his sword against his shield, letting it ring out, his voice booming. “Fall back to the Bazaar! Take as many as you can find and pull back!” His voice rose over the noise and soldiers and civilians began moving that way, even as he and those few who remained with him held the line, cutting down anything that came near.

Kalion shook his head. “Illyrias, you need to go now. All of you need to go immediately.” A shimmer of blue light surrounded them, walling off the advancing undead for a few heartbeats. The mage stepped past Illyrias, brushing his lips against his dirty cheek as he passed. “Go. Now. I'll hold the line.”

Uncertainty warred within him, but there were people behind them - not warriors - but artists and musicians and children. People who needed whatever safety the Bazaar could offer. Illyrias’s jaw clenched as he turned with the rest of their little squad, picked up a child, and began to run. They all began to run.

He looked back only once and would forever regret that he did. If he hadn't looked back he could have told himself Kalion made it out - that he had somehow escaped to somewhere else. That he lived. He could have told himself so many lies - but the hard truth lay there on the filthy marble street, etched into the lines of his broken body as the undead swarmed over him. The truth was, Kalion would stand back up and those lovely blue eyes would no longer see him as they once did. Kalion was gone and what remained was now but a spectre and a horror that wore the face of someone Illyrias had cared for.

But that wasn't the truth he would focus on as he ran, as he and the small band of warriors got those children and citizens to safety behind the shields in the Bazaar. The truth was that his friend had saved his life and the life of so many others.

That was the only truth that mattered.

@daily-writing-challenge

[lukel-sunshadow]

This idiot and his stupid heart shaped glasses.

[the-golden-sparrow]

DWC November 2025 - Serious

Giida had brought her kind-of-uncle to her newest most favorite coffee shop in the Dragon Isles. The same place Marik had brought her all those weeks ago - and still, it made her grin excitedly every time she saw the coffee mages at work. She had briefly considered changing her trajectory in life entirely and becoming a coffee mage. They made coffee! With MAGIC! How cool was that?!

But she quickly righted herself, dragging her thoughts away from becoming the most powerful coffee barista in history, and looked across the table at Illyrias. He had more scars on his face than she remembered, and she wasn't used to seeing the tightness around his eyes. That hadn't been there years ago. He'd been more carefree and open - he'd laughed and joked more. When he did now, well…she tasted the lie. 

“Uncle, are you going to drink your coffee?" She asked, nodding to the cold brew she'd recommended. Illyrias glanced up at her, as if lost in his own thoughts, and quickly took a sip. Luckily, it was cold, so the rushed sip didn't scald his throat. “Uhm…you okay? You kind of look like hell. Lovingly! You…lovingly look like hell.”

Illyrias brushed his blonde hair back with a hand, chuckling at her sweet bluntness. He knew she didn't mean it in any ill way - but she was right. He probably did look like hell. “Yeh, I'm aight. Jus’ been tryin’ to uh…get settled back in th’city an’ ain't been easy. Told you ‘bout th’friend who's lettin’ me sleep in th’old clinic tho? So, tha’s been nicer’n the alleys in th’Row.” Much less stabbing occurred. “Still jus’ uh…not used t’being around so many people.”

This she understood on a deep level. It had been overwhelming to come back to a place so teeming with life and people and voices after having been mostly removed from the world for years and years. “So, you're totally going to let me help decorate, right? We can make it so cute! And you don't really get to tell me ‘no’, cause I'm going to help anyways.” She would. She knew her uncle hadn't touched the family vaults - but she had no such qualms using the gold there. Especially when it helped someone she loved.

He let out a little sigh, taking another sip of the - admittedly - very good cold brew. “Yeh, figured I wasn't really gunna get a say in tha’,” he muttered with a little grin, affixing gold and silver eyes on the young lady. “You ain't gunna tell your dad, right’?” 

She knew the tensions between them had only gotten more strained with time and grief, and that their history was one she couldn't untangle alone. She knew it was serious. But she was nothing if not her father's daughter - stubborn to a fault. “I'm not going to tell him yet. I'll give it time before I start talking to him about it, but Uncle…” her voice was gentle and warm, concerned and colored with love. “I don't want it to be like this forever. You didn't used to be…I mean… it wasn't always like this. I remember you two used to talk? And even if it was…a little strained, it wasn't like this. And I don't want it to be like this. You're my uncle and I love you. I don't want you to feel like you can't be my family.”

He didn't know if this had been a move orchestrated by Lukel, or if it was simply fate that had gotten Giida across the table from him. But he couldn't just ignore her plea. Her honesty. And gods, but did she look so much like her aunt Elenria when she spoke with such undiluted compassion.

“Yeh, aight kid. I'mma work on it.” He didn't know how to do that, really. He didn't know how to move past the anger and the grief and the debilitating loneliness that had made its home deep in the marrow of his bones - but he'd try. For her. For the Aunt she'd never known that Illyrias had loved fiercely. 

“Good! Then I'm gunna get some things for your cute new…uhm…apartment? And we're gunna make it feel like home!”

He could only sigh and smile at her softly, shaking his head. “Aight. Jus’ remember - I like pink.” 

@daily-writing-challenge

Mentions: @illyrias-silversun @lukel-sunshadow @beatborne @varment-fao

[lukelxiv]

Felt like it was time to do this since I am no longer in FFXIV and have moved back to WoW. If you're looking for my current RP blogs, they can be found below! (Maybe more to come? Who knows!)

Lukel Sunshadow - @lukel-sunshadow

Giida Liu Sha'auvrea - @the-golden-sparrow

Keltariel Fossoyeur - @the-grave-keeper

Nedria Norinai Naila (Yeven) - @walker-of-the-middle

Illyrias Silversun - @illyrias-silversun

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 6: Useful

The letter had been sent days ago, and Illyrias was still uncertain if it had ever arrived to its intended recipient. He had hoped, but as more days passed without contact he thought maybe it was for the best. It had been a wild hair to send it in the first place - what the fuck has he been thinking, really? To ask more from someone who had already gifted him more than he ever could have asked for? It was selfish. Or egotistical of him to have even considered himself up to the challenge. Temporary insanity, maybe. 

A knock sounded on the apartment’s front door, and he stood up from the couch to answer. Faolan was off at practice, so it was just Dirt and him. He didn't know who it was but maybe Lukel had decided to come visit…? Which would still be entirely weird. 

He opened the door and was momentarily frozen by who stood there. She was shockingly gorgeous - every single time - and despite him being happily in a relationship, she always seemed to strike him a little stupid. “Uh…hey?” 

The woman held up a letter between her two fingers, unsettling golden eyes affixed on his face. They always appeared to be molten, swirling inside her irises like something alive. Something trapped. “You meant what you said here?” Was her greeting, her smokey voice not gentle but nor was it unkind. It simply was, and he had to swallow at the no nonsense look on her face. 

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I did. Every word.”

She brushed past him and moved right into the overly pink living room, planting her hands on her hips as she watched him shut the door before leaning back against it. “I have never taken on an apprentice,” she began, still pinning him with that molten gaze. “I have never had the desire to and I have never met someone with the correct disposition or intelligence to keep up with my work.”

He didn't take it as a barb - her voice never wavered into unfriendly territory. Just factual information being relayed. “I don't really doubt that, ma’am-”

She cut him off, holding up a hand traced with golden ink, her perfectly shaped nails polished in the same hue. She was a living sunbeam standing here in his living room. “No. That's gross. Yeven. You don't call me ma’am. Ew.”

Illyrias smirked a little, dipping his chin in her direction. “Can I call you Eve? I mean, that's kind of like Yeven?”

Her eyes narrowed at him and he was given the impression of a large cat sizing up their prey. He was the prey in this situation and he wasn't certain he enjoyed that. “You can call me Eve if you last longer than a week.”

“So…that's a yes, then?” He asked her hesitantly. He'd sent the letter because in all his life, he'd never met someone like Yeven. Her engineering prowess and how she approached both magic and technology - it was amazing, the way she blended them together into something wholly different was unique. It was intriguing and kind of scary to see in person, but he'd never been able to forget it. It called to that part of him that wanted to make things that helped people - that were useful and good. To be more than what he was told he could be.

She considered him for another moment, fingers drumming against her hip as she narrowed those living embers on his face. “You built war machines, yes? Things meant for destruction and death?”

He swallowed hard at that question, nodding his head once. “Yes, I did.” To his eternal shame.

“Did you enjoy it?” 

“No ma-...Yeven. No, I did not.”

“But you did it anyways?” Her head tilted to the side curiously, pale golden strands falling against her cheek.

“I wasn't really asked for my opinion or preferences. I was told. And at the time, I did what I was told believing that the benefit outweighed the cost on my conscience.” Truth. All of it was the truth. 

Yeven took a few steps closer, the golden lines on her skin reflecting light that was not at all present inside the apartment, as if they were shimmering under some other sun, some forgotten memory flickering through the living ink. “Do you still do as you are told, Illyrias Sha’auvrea Silversun?”

He hated that name, but he stood up straight, towering over her in height and still…still he felt like she was somehow looking down her regal nose at him. “Only if I agree with the instructions. Only if it doesn't hurt people. Only if it's the right thing to do.”

“And if it is not? If I instruct you to do otherwise?”

“Then, respectfully, you can fuck right off.”

This retort brought a bright, glowing smile to her face, warmth suffusing those golden eyes. “Good boy.” She patted his chest, and despite her slender frame, her hand was solid against him. “We start next week.” She reached for the doorknob and Illyrias stepped to the side, maybe a little surprised by her acceptance.

Her feet paused on the threshold as she looked out towards the street, the people passing by, the life that surrounded them despite everything that had been thrown at this world. “I was built for things other than what I wished to be, too.” She looked over her shoulder at him, that warm smile on her face. “So I'll give you a chance to prove the people who created you wrong, Illyrias.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[illyrias-silversun]

DWC November 2025 - Echo

CW: Alcohol, drugs.

It was three in the morning and he couldn't remember her name. They'd met in the tavern and had gotten to talking when Illyrias was well into his drinks for the evening and she seemed to either not care or that was exactly what she was looking for. She complimented his stupid shirt and slid her hand across his stomach and asked him if he wanted to see hers. They drank more, shared some thistle and then some Dream Dust, which he'd never had before but it certainly held up to its name. The rest was mostly a haze of light and sound.

And it was three in the morning and all he could think was that he didn't know her name. Thandris? Illandra? Something. He was sure she had a name. But he had drowned his conscience in so much liquor and copious amounts of thistle that night that he didn't really care. It was a brief interlude to his misery, a moment of pretending in a different way. Like it could mean anything beyond the press of their bodies into the sheets. Like this poor recreation of something intimate was anything more than an echo of his past. One he was trying to silence even though it lingered in the back of his mind, haunted him through every kiss and whispered word. 

It had interrupted his thoughts for long enough to forget the itch in the back of his throat where that laughter had tried to escape earlier. Real laughter, not the practiced fake sound he could produce at the drop of a hat. But something that threatened true warmth. It had taken him away from that irritating feeling in his chest that told him he cared about what happened to someone - that he cared about someone. And despite how much he drank, he couldn't numb it enough to forget it.

So he did what he knew would shut it off. Even for a little while. 

He slid out of the stranger's bed and gathered his clothing from where it had been discarded onto the floor. He dressed silently and grabbed his sunglasses from the table before he made his way out of the home he'd never step foot in again. More than once and it became a thing and he didn't have time for things. 

He didn't have time for this to be anything more than meaningless and empty. Because he didn't have anything left to give. To anyone. And this was the reminder that he needed. 

@daily-writing-challenge

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 1: Yearn/Couple

It was the simple, daily things that he had come to love the most. A giggle down the hallway, the flash of an impish grin, the genuine excitement for life that radiated from the little elf who had entirely taken him by surprise. Illyrias had been many things in his life, most of them weren't things he was proud of, but being this? Being loved and appreciated and having someone who just saw him, all his flaws, and loved him anyways? That was something new and something he truly treasured.

In the past there had never been the simple things - or even joy, really. There had been a lot of yearning to be noticed, to be given the time of day. Pretending he wasn't in love with someone, having to sneak in kisses where no one could see had become what he associated with love - with a relationship. He didn't dare ask for more because he already knew the answer. He was a Knight. He had nothing to offer but his protection, the blood on his hands and the ability to make more. He wasn't going to claim the title he didn't want, he wasn't going to have the wealth and stability to offer the woman he'd been so sure wouldn't care about any of that.

But she had. And he simply hasn't stacked up, in the grand scheme of things. He was disposable - a fling, a dalliance, a distraction. To be anything more than that would have ruined him in ways he hadn't been ready to commit to.

But the golden-eyed elf who was currently giggling on the couch while a small, overly excited little mutt of a dog was licking his face and eyebrows had never asked him to be anything other than what he was. And he found that he wanted to be so much more for Faolan than he'd wanted to be for anyone else. A protector, yes, but more than that. He wanted to show him new things and bring him new places. Illyrias wanted to experience life with him - all of it - and it didn't even scare him to admit that to himself.

He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to be away from him. He just wanted this easy, happy life, full of laughter and hugs and warmth. It wasn't really something he'd considered he'd been missing out on, but he got it now.

He'd been missing Faolan for a long, long time.

@daily-writing-challenge (mentions: @varment-fao )

[illyrias-silversun]

I'm your Huckleberry.

Illyrias by the amazing @wolfssketches.