final fantasy xiv open post

[faelight]

original characters




npcs





in progress/coming soon

Alderic Lanverlais | unbequeathed

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[fairlyskilled]

[ He's had all of a day to think it over - not even quite that, in fact. A grim afternoon gathered around a table, a heated conversation with Emet-Selch. A long night so far spent staring sleeplessly at the ceiling. But no rest is likely to come to his troubled mind tonight, so after far too long aimlessly thinking himself in circles, he pushes out of bed and crosses the hall to the room where Hermes has tucked away the little familiar. Or whatever they should be calling that familiar fragment of soul.

He hesitates there for a long moment before lifting a hand to rap his knuckles softly against the door, wondering if she were already asleep. ]

[bravekeeper]

[Sleep, it turns out, is in short supply for many, this night. Amri has lost track of exactly how long she's been sitting up, recounting the events of the day— tumultuous seemed almost too kind a word for them. She'd had little idea of what to expect upon coming to Elpis, with only brief glimpses of Amaurot through its replica to serve as a guide to what she might find in the past. She'd thought she was as prepared as one could be for a journey like this— but she hadn't counted on being met with familiar faces, the complications that the strange sense of sentimentality she felt towards those involved had introduced.

Perhaps she should have.

She doesn't expect the knock that comes at her door, and she tips her head to one side as she narrows her gaze, even as she rises from where she'd been sitting cross-legged on the bed to approach it in stockinged feet. She honestly can't guess which of her 'new' acquaintances might be on the other side, and given the possible exchanges she might have with each of them, she braces herself for the worst as she opens it.

In some small show of fortune, she's greeted by the sight of what might be the most personable man she's ever had occasion to meet.]

Hythlodaeus?

[fairlyskilled]

[ The smile that twitches across his lips is small and subdued but still completely genuine. He inclines his head, lowering his hand to his side once more. ]

I didn't wake you, did I?

[bravekeeper]

[She shakes her head in response, stepping back to hold a hand out to usher him in, should he so choose.]

I would have to be able to sleep for that to be true, so no worries in that regard. I take it something's on your mind?

[They all have a great deal on their minds, she's certain.]

im making an executive decision for both angst AND smooches

[bureaubrat]

[ hythlodaeus has always loved mornings. watching the sun slant in, warm and gold through sheer curtains, lying in a warm bed beside someone you love - is there truly anything better than this?

waking up beside hades is, for a moment, like living in a memory. their legs are tangled, hades' breath tickling his ear, and it's just so familiar that hythlodaeus can swear that he sees the skyline of amaurot through the sheer curtains when his gaze flickers open. it is just another beautiful day.

but then the memories begin to tumble back, and he recognizes that this room is not his own, but an inn room, and the skyline outside of the window is gridania's rolling trees. they have been given another chance, another lifetime. the memory is fading.

and yet.. hades remains here, with him, and isn't that all that matters, in the end? their legs are comfortably tangled, their bodies close, and warm, and though it has been eons since last they were able to touch it still feels so achingly familiar that it is all too easy for hythlodaeus to reach forward and brush the hair from hades' sleeping face, as he has done a thousand times before. ]

Wake up, sweet prince.

excellent let's roll also I'm terrified

[convocations]

[It had, perhaps, been the first truly restful night of sleep he'd had in millennia. How many nights had he spent alone throughout those long years? Even when he'd played the role of partner when circumstances demanded, he had always ensured his own company was distant, removed— this, however, was different. Warm, familiar, a memory from a world long gone, a life he had left behind and had at last, after thousands of years, come to reluctantly accept that he would never taste again.

And yet, as always, someone had to meddle.

The morning sun threatens to wake him before the gentle stir of movement, and his upper lip very nearly curls into a sneer as the light threatens to force his eyes open, but it's not until he feels long fingers reach to brush tangles of hair back from his face that he raises his own hand to swat at it, shooing it away.]

I refuse.

[He's perfectly comfortable exactly as they are.]

DONUT BE, IT ONLY ME!!!

[bureaubrat]

[ an easy smile curves hythlodaeus' mouth, a sleepy, rough chuckle in his throat. this, too, is familiar. ]

Mm, are you so certain..?

[ the fingers in hades' hair now trace the shape of his ear, and trail down his long neck, as hythlodaeus sits halfway up to crook his elbow and rest his head against his curled knuckles. eyes hooded, he watches emet-selch's face, his familiar features.. he had never forgotten them, and yet it has been so very long since he has been able to lie abed and simply admire him. ]

It's a beautiful day.

Because one angsty thread wasn't enough I guess?

[fairlyskilled]

[ There's an almost physical pall that hangs over the city. Empty streets and dark skies. A sense of grief. Of impending doom. Of an insidious aura of fear that permeates every corner.

Hythlodaeus enters the tall building and lifts a hand in an absent wave to the figure behind the front desk, bypassing him and heading for the lift. It's only a few moments later that he's stepping out onto one of the higher floors and heading for one particular closed door.

He gives a brief knock on the surface before pushing inside without waiting for permission. It's late enough now that the building is mostly empty, and he senses no one else within the chamber except for the person he's here to see. ]

You lost track of time again.

angsty threads are my favorites, earn your good feelings

[convocations]

[The days have been slipping past more and more quickly; the distinction between day and night has become questionable, at best, as the members of the Convocation have devoted their every waking hour to ensuring this plan of theirs works. It is controversial, at best— but needs must.

There is no time for doubt, no time for anything but to do everything he can to ensure success. If this fails, then without question, every soul on this star will be lost. Failure is, decidedly, not an option.

He hears the door and the footsteps that follow; even without looking up from his work, he recognizes those footfalls without question, and responds without ever missing a beat, writing steadily as he remains hunched over his desk.]

The only time that matters is how little we have left. This is necessary.

rude tbh

[fairlyskilled]

[ Hythlodaeus makes a small, noncommittal noise as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest in a deceptively casual pose. He lets Emet-Selch continue scribbling his notes - or whatever he's working on - for another few minutes before huffing out a quiet sigh and pushing off the wall to approach. Reaching out, plucking the writing instrument from his fingers with a nimble dexterity, he holds it far out of his companion's reach. ]

Emet-Selch. You have prepared as much as possible. Preparations are as prepared as they're like to get. You'll only needlessly tire yourself at this rate. Come home and rest.

[snarkitect]

[ The afterlife is, of course, something that Emet-Selch would consider himself a pretty notable expert on, even if his focus had shifted away from his stewardship as so very much time had passed, and his mission had changed. Even so, there are still many mysteries about it, even to him, about that last journey, about that final step. His is one that should have happened very, very long ago, and his soul is weary in ways that he could not name. And yet, as he drifts to the Aetherial Sea, he persists, until his feet find purchase on something solid.

Color and light begin to coalesce, half-formed like memories as a path unfurls before him. For a moment, he is alone - it is quiet, so quiet, but the solace is an old familiar friend by now.

However, whether it be fate or dynamis or something else, things do not remain that way for long, because no sooner has he taken his first step towards his final destination, than does another figure come into being at his side, like she has been there all along, and he simply hadn't noticed, despite the color of her soul being very familiar to him.

Venat. Not as Hydaelyn, but as herself, the woman he remembered from before The Final Days. Not someone he had expected to encounter here, and ye smeone which he has so much to say, and nothing all at once. He has long suspected the universe had a cruel sense of humor, but this is something else completely.

Or perhaps it is simply the notion that they have unfinished business, that there are things they must say to one another.

Though it takes a great deal of willpower to do so, he schools an unaffected expression upon his features, one hand on his hip as he sighs. ]

Well, I suppose it may as well happen this way.

[herois]

[It seems rather fitting that even here, where the living are unable to tread, where souls are meant to find their way to their rest, Emet-Selch feels compelled to make it known that he is being inconvenienced. At first, Venat says nothing, her bright gaze serious as it remains fixed on him, studying his figure as though seeking to ensure he is still as she remembers.

Then, after a few moments of silence, she lifts a hand to her mouth and laughs, a warm and rich sound that carries through the space around them, lips curled into a knowing smile as she fixes her gaze on him once more.]

Had you something else in mind for our next conversation? It's been some time. I would say we are long overdue.

[It has been, after all, ages upon ages since they last spoke in earnest— since they last were friends.]

[snarkitect]

[ Some time, she says, as if twelve thousand years is a mere trifle, as if they hadn't spent it at odds, even if neither of them were entirely themselves. Long overdue, she says, as if there isn't a laughably infinite number of things they could say to one another. He shakes his head as if here, at the end of things, he is nothing more than put-upon.

It isn't that simple, of course, but he can't make this easy, gods forbid. ]

Oh, I could think of a thing or two, if pressed.

[ And then, in spite of himself, one corner of his mouth curls into a smile. ]

It is good to see you as yourself.

[naturewalk]

I'm sure you understand this already, but all of this is a little unusual, from the gleaners' side. We usually work alone.

[The road from Yanxia to the Azim Steppe is longer than the map made it seem, and the terrain is altogether unfamiliar to Erenville. It isn't his first trip this far east, but it is the first chance he's had to venture to the plains and deserts of the Xaela.]

Then again, without a trustworthy guide, I'd probably not be here at all.

[He lifts his arms in a shrug, then his shoulders, adjusting his pack to settle more comfortably. This assignment might fill him with anticipation, but it is an assignment. Forgetting to treat it like one would be silly.]

So tell me, what should I expect once we reach the Steppe proper?

[bravekeeper]

I would think it would be a nice change of pace, having some company.

[It's been too long since Amri's last visit to the Steppe, though she'd had occasion to reunite with a number of its denizens not so long ago. The nature of this particular venture had been too appealing not to invite herself along on— and, given that Sharlayan was starting to become something like home, it seemed only right that she do something to contribute to the city's continued well-being, now that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had 'disbanded.'

She offers him a bright smile as they continue along the road, the entrance to the Steppe steadily growing closer.]

Well, expect that no two tribes will be the same— they each have their own customs, but come together at the town that serves as their marketplace. Most are friendly regarding visitors at this point, and usually curious, but there are some who may be...

[Hmm.]

They like things done a certain way.

[naturewalk]

My superiors furnished me with some reading material before we left, so I'm not entirely in the dark about all of it.

[He skirts a patch of loose stones with very precise steps, well before actually dislodging any.]

The sheer number of tribes and their differences was no small task to commit to memory, though. The name of that town is Reunion, if I'm not mistaken?

[He's also aware that...well. It may be the first time they've ever seen anyone of his sort. Perhaps Amri's ears have paved the way for him in some regard...]

starlight continuation!

[bravekeeper]

( from here )

[She watches him intently for those moments, searching his own face in turn, looking for any trace of uncertainty and instead finding herself admiring the gentle, smiling curve of his mouth, the delicate slope of his nose and cheeks, his fine brows and bright eyes, his full lips that she now knows the feel and taste of. Some of it, perhaps, is what the remains of who she once was remembers— but the draw feels too strong, too real, too present for it to be only that.

As she'd said, she's not the Azem that he knew— which, she decides, means her curiosities and desires are entirely her own, whatever faint memories may reside within her. She gives him a faint, lopsided smile as she watches him patiently.]

What are you looking for—

[She cuts herself off as he leans down to meet her, to claim her lips, and without a second thought, she is kissing him back just as fervidly. The experimental hesitance that their first kiss had held is now gone, replaced instead with a decisive reassurance of want.

If they both want this, then perhaps they owe it to themselves.

She gently pushes a hand against his shoulder as they kiss, her lips parting eagerly against his, tongue curious even as she nudges him to roll onto his back, easing one leg over his hip with intent as her fingers skim downwards along the curve of his neck and move to trace along his collarbone, shifting herself to straddle his hips.]

[bureaubrat]

[ all at once she is pushing at him, and hythlodaeus is, as ever, always amenable to her wants - it is only a matter of seconds before he is on his back with amri astride him and hells, his want for her is all but immediately noticeable through the very thin fabric of their very silly pants.

beholding her, his breath leaves him. ]

You're beautiful..

[ for as lovely as it had been to kiss her, it is equally lovely to better see her face. without thought his hands begin to smooth slowly over the fullness of her thighs, long fingers splayed, feeling the heat of her skin beneath fabric that feels so thin and yet thick enough to be entirely in the way.

slowly, cautiously, he rocks his hips upward into hers, his lips parting in a shivering exhale. ]

[bravekeeper]

[She could say the very same for him, though finds herself feeling surprisingly embarrassed by the prospect— yet not by the obvious presence of his arousal beneath her; it presses against the inside of her thigh and makes her face flush for a different reason entirely, desire flaring sharply. He rocks his hips upwards, and she lets out a muted, half-swallowed moan of approval as she shifts forward to claim those parted lips in another kiss, denying herself the opportunity to spout any number of sentimental things that might only end up sounding foolish and spoiling the moment.

The roaming of his hands only encourages that intense surge of wanting, and she lays a hand against his wrist to guide him, following his own movement down the length of her thigh before she steers him upwards to lay his hand over her breast— over her tunic for the time being, but likely not for long, at least not if she has her way.]

Touch me?

[It's not entirely a request, though there's a breathless lilt to her voice as she says so.]

now sing with me once more

[meteia]

[ for thousands upon thousands of years had she waited at the edges of the universe, the ends of reality. thousands upon thousands of years and songs and voices crowding her ears, their thoughts. so much pain, misery, suffering, despair. they had taken it into themselves and it had become theirs.

their song.

until the familiar from elpis, the so-called warrior of light, had come along and shown her that things could be different. that there was hope. after so long, it was a strange sensation. hope. perhaps she should have waited a little longer or tried harder for etheirys, but by that point there was nothing but despair, no hope to bring back to hermes, only an empty void.

and she had taken it unto herself.

now, she sees etheirys with new eyes and a new song. hermes is gone and she yearns for the time lost, for the person he once was, and mourns the one he became, the fractured soul full of despair and hatred. in his memory, with hope for a better world, she takes to the winds again, a tiny little blue bird flying through the aether, following the currents, riding the highs.

soaring on hope.

at least until she spies a familiar, yet long-lost to time and memory, head of white hair far below her. someone she had also wronged, who had helped to defeat her, who had suffered alone for these thousands of years. meteion pauses, her wingflaps slowing as she considers her many possible courses of action, before she finally settles on one. allowing her body to drift on the wind, she lights on a nearby bench, her head tilted upwards towards the woman almost in a question.

now to see if venat remembers her or cares to even acknowledge her. meteion... wouldn't blame her if she didn't. ]



[ ooc: lmk if anything needs to change ♥ ]

♥

[herois]

[It is the first time in many long millennia that she has not been simply watching, waiting. The star, now safely delivered, is in the hands of those who walk its surface, her children to continue serving as its stewards, and in her heart, there is as much weariness as there is peace. Her strength is largely spent, but she has not faded away completely, the heart of the star itself still standing after all this time.

Her strength has faded, yes, but her intuition has not. She does not look towards the little bird that joins her, but she recognizes her all the same, and her lips curl into a faint smile as she bows her head in acknowledgement.]

I was wondering if we might chance to see one another again.

[It had seemed inevitable— but she does not seem troubled by this meeting in the least.]

[meteia]

[ the greeting is far more cordial and warm than meteion had expected and for a moment the entelechy simply basks in that warmth. her head bows and her eyes slide closed for just a few moments. how long has it been since she felt this? did she ever truly...? hermes had cared for her as best he could, but with the sadness and oftentimes anger she sensed in him, he could not offer her this. by the time she and her sisters had come into being, hope had become an illusion for him, this kindness something she had almost forgotten.

but now comes the hard part: how does she respond? she could simply speak with her mind, as she had always been best at, but somehow that feels... wrong. as though she owes more to this woman who had suffered so because of her misguided attempts to free etheirys.

and so, with her eyes still closed, she returns to her other form in a swirl of blue light. so small she is that her feet don't even touch the ground, so she leans forward a little, gripping the edges of the bench by her knees for support. her tail curls around her body, flush against one leg, as though it might offer some comfort. her eyes finally open once more and she glances sideways, trying to feel what may be swirling around in venat's mind and bracing against anything negative that might bubble to the surface.

she could say so many things, but the words ring hollow in her mind. so she takes a small breath and offers one small thing: ] Etheirys is beautiful, isn't it?

[ no mention of how sorry she is to nearly have caused its destruction, no mention of regrets. just one simple statement. etheirys is beautiful and for the first time, she can see it.

but of course, being who she is, unaccustomed to politeness when speaking to people, she adds on, ] I thought you had returned to the star.

[ and it's rather a large event that she had said "returned to the star" rather than "died." not that venat had been around for that originally, but meteion is... trying. she's not good at it, but she's trying. ]

Sailing the Aetherial Sea

[songonthewind]

[ The months following her return from Ultima Thule and the Scions immediately "disbanding" themselves in the aftermath had blurred together in a chaos of travel, hard work, and way too many deeply emotional conversations. Highly uncomfortable, if she was perfectly honest about it. But people had needed help and her friends had needed assistance and if throwing herself face-first into task after task to help them out had pushed off some long-overdue soulsearching on her part, well...

Who was she kidding? She was pushing that off as long as she possibly could. But even then, things quieted down some. She grew restless, the lull between matters that demanded her immediate attention growing wider and wider. Which was how she found herself sitting on the docks of Kugane late one evening, watching the sun set beyond the far horizon, nothing on her looming agenda and a melancholy air surrounding her.

Soulsearching indeed.

It started as a niggling thought in the back of her mind. A curiosity that formed into a question and then a string of them. A wondering, as an idea took shape. Probably not a very good idea, in truth, and if any of her erstwhile companions had even been on this side of the star while she was considering such reckless ideas, she's sure their inner trouble alarms would be blaring in their ears in warning. She'd expect Alisaie to immediately ignore it and jump in with her with both feet, of course, but that's beside the point.

Said point being, she was here and on her own with nothing demanding her attention for the foreseeable future. And with nothing looming ahead of her to hold her attention, it instead turned... back.

Which is how, after a scrambled week of intense research and study and a few hair-brained tests with questionable results under her belt, Yona finds herself flinging her consciousness out of her own (safely tucked away) body and following the shimmer of stars and souls and memories into the beyond.

Into the Aetherial Sea.

A soul crystal is clenched tightly in one hand, gleaming and sending out a pulse of warm magic with each beat of her distant heart. A beacon, even if she hadn't intended it as such. But considering she's here to search, maybe that can only aid in her efforts. At least, that's what she hopes. Because otherwise? This is a very large and unknown place and she's not even really sure where to start looking, now that she's actually made it here. ]

[convocations]

[Though he had only recently been guided back to the Source, the aetherial sea had ever been his domain— the 'Underworld,' it had once been called, though the name had long fallen out of favor, forgotten as so many other things had been over countless millennia as divided souls lived their lives without knowing what came before.

As such, it was quite plain to him when someone or something entered the aetherial sea that ought not to be there.

It had happened some months back, as well— as far as he could tell, though the passage of time on the Source was difficult to measure from this place, where it held no meaning— but that time, it had been several souls, aided by Sharlayan tools.

Now, it was only one, and he knew that color well, even dimmed as it was.

Of course it would be her.

There's no telling how long she looks before his voice reaches her, but it pierces through the rolling waves of aether, even as his countenance is nowhere to be seen.]

You don't belong here, hero.

[songonthewind]

[ The voice that reaches out to her isn't exactly a surprise, but it does nothing to slow or waylay her passage. Her expression is one of determination as she propels herself forward through dark waves of a makeup she has no name for. There are many things in this place she cannot describe although it holds wonders she'd love to stop and explore. Understand. Were she not so set on her course, she might have paused to do so.

But Yona is, if nothing else, a very stubborn person. And considering that familiar voice has told her nothing she doesn't already know, she just continues to press on, as if she hadn't heard it in the first place.

...Not that she expects him to take that for the hint it is.

Or maybe she just wants to return the favor of pretending to be entirely unaware of his incorporeal presence this time. Somewhere, she's sure, that will make Hythlodaeus smile. ]