#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #prompt

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|| day one || day two || day three || day five || day six || day seven || day eight || day nine || day ten || day twelve || day thirteen || day fourteen || day fifteen || day sixteen || day seventeen || day nineteen || day twenty || day twenty-one

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day one >> cross <<

mature | 1k words | wol & estinien wyrmblood

She crosses the wide, glittering expanse as the forms of Thordan and his knights return to their original proportions. Her swift stride carries her to the far end where the Archbishop, still in his finery, crawls upon his belly like a wounded hound, keening, “Who are you? What are you?”

Estinien stops to catch his breath, watching the Warrior with curiosity, relief, and elation at discovering the battle already won and the Warrior alive and well.

Then Stelmaria speaks and every syllable buries a sliver of cold fear deep within his brain, “Retribution, your Holiness.”

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day two >> bolt <<

explicit | 1.1 k words | wol/zenos

Many years had come and gone since Zenos found any sort of challenge in the minds and spirits of his prey. It seemed he'd reached a zenith where no other could reach or touch him. The clear path from which he had not strayed now became lost in a shroud of heavy fog, a veil separating his current state from the godhood he deserved.

An emotion sprouted within him, one he had no name for; a great gaping emptiness which chilled his blood the way the Garlean winters never had, a greedy worm festering within the ripened apple of his heart. He floundered there, lost and searching, devoid of the contentment he found only in the ringing clash of blades.

In the end she was the one to name this feeling, and in so doing she gained absolute power over him. In so doing she was named friend.

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day three >> temper <<

teen | 300 words | wol/thancred

“They're dead because you weren't there!”

It feels good to place the guilt on Thancred for a moment but the shape of his lips change, twist and tighten. He's no longer the charming bard but a man weighed down with regret.

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day five >> cutting corners <<

teen | 800 words | wol/g’raha

The odd quartet of two adult miqo'te and two elezen youths is strange enough, but the way they've attempted to hide themselves, together, in the shadow of a single column, is quite another thing entirely. They fit in a shared space the same way a square peg fits into a round hole, or a grumpy housecat goes into his carrier—which is to say they don't fit at all.

Further, all eight eyes are trained on what appears to be an everyday merchant—a blissfully unaware lalafell man some 20 yalms away—watching his every move with the sort of dour intensity far better suited to the inspection of one's shoe after treading on something foul.

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day six >> onerous <<

teen | 1.9k words | hyth/hades & azem/ancient!g’raha

Today, Hythlodaeus’ twin sister ascends to the seat of Azem.

Hades knows of his companion’s sister, but he’s never seen her. This sad state of affairs is not for lack of trying on Hyth’s part—far from it. It’s more to do with the woman’s odd habit of sequestering herself deep within the bowels of the Words of Halmarut for weeks or months at a time.

‘To better focus on her research,’ explains her smiling twin, as if that explains anything at all.

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day seven >> pawn <<

explicit | 900 words | fray!sineater!wol/exarch

They’d drunk too much. That was the first mistake.

Then, the dwarves neglecting to mention the sleeping arrangements until the last moment, specifically how the arrangement—singular—for two non-dwarves requires sharing.

The Exarch did not mind this so much. Stelmaria could be a light sleeper and prone to nightmares, but thankfully after a few drinks she could remain unconscious through a calamity. He’d felt confident she would close her eyes and stay that way until the morning.

Therein lay the second mistake.

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day eight >> tepid <<

mature | 1.9k words | wol/haurchefant ; wol/yotsuyu ; wol/g'raha

Glowing logs crackle and snap, then rustle as the soft piles of ash collapse under their own weight. Flames flicker and dance, casting grotesque and outsized shadows on the walls. The heat spreading from the grate is strong and steady, yet it barely takes the edge off the omnipresent chill.

Stelmaria slouches deeper into the thick quilt, pulling her stockinged feet up off the freezing floor. This unrelenting cold weather makes her bones ache and her nose run freely no matter how many warming tonics she forces down her throat.

Camp Dragonhead is silent as a tomb this late, or this early, depending on your point of view. These bells before the first delicate peach and gold stripes of dawn reach for the eastern sky is the best time to sift through her muddled thoughts.

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day nine >> yawn <<

general | 650 words | wol/wol (felstel)

Not even a yawn so much as commentary on the interminable banality of her modern existence. An existence laced with indignities such as—but by no means limited to—the aforementioned bedtime, a strict limit on the amount of ginger-cinnamon cookies she's allowed to consume in a day, and the time outs she must endure on the rare occasions she succumbs to temptation and chases ma's chickens into a frenzy.

A temptation she'd indulged in today, as a matter of fact.

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day ten >> channel <<

teen | 650 words | wol/g'raha

She swallows hard, every muscle tensing in anticipation as the pressure builds behind her eyes.

“Steady,” mutters Raha, lips slightly parted as if he can taste the heavy air.

He doesn’t touch her, but stands near enough she feels the heat of him on her skin.

A whimper catches in her throat, her knees press together and tremble as she fights to maintain focus on her task as a whirling maelstrom of power roars within.

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day twelve >> miss the boat <<

explicit | 850 words | wol/wol (felstel)

“Stel?”

She tucks her nose beneath the line of his jaw and leaves a kiss, “Hmm?”

He runs the edge of his thumb down the soft skin of her shoulder, so pale as to glow in the moonbeams sneaking in through the fluttering curtain. “Do ya ever think abou'—”

Fel doesn't finish his question. The words seem to have gotten lost in his stomach somehow on the trip from brain to mouth. They linger there, acidic and unpleasant.

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day thirteen >> confluence <<

explicit | 900 words | wol/graha ; wol/wol (felstel) ; wol/yotsuyu/zenos

Time's river bears him onward as he gazes transfixed and helpless at hurtling infinity, the constant undulating threads of fate, the shimmering fragments of unrealized potential mingling with painful memories.

Past, present, and future overlapping, tangling, melting into each other, merging the real and recognizable with the fantastic and strange. He sees them all, bound together like pearls on a radiant webbing, ensnaring his mind as surely as the crystal feasts upon his limbs.

His physical agony shrinks to insignificance against the weight of this knowledge. The mind, beholding the fabric of the universe, can do naught but fray; no mortal can withstand the face of god.

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day fourteen >> attrition <<

general | 800 words | ex libris au

“You said you were gonna play a cleric this time,” complains Alphinaud, for what feels like the fiftieth time.

Y’shtola makes a mark on the board under the heading ‘CLERIC’. It is indeed the fiftieth mark.

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day fifteen >> row <<

mature | 750 words | wol/thancred

“I asked for your help on this because I believed we had an understanding, but perhaps I was mistaken?”

The oars dip into the calm waters of the moat, biting clean through and leaving no ripples to disturb the moon-mirrored surface.

“You are not, though if you expected me to remain silent on the subject then perhaps you were mistaken?”

A soft splash as the oars breach the surface to greet the starry sky. Water trickles off the edge and back into the moat, tears of Menphina, shining bright.

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day sixteen >> deiform <<

explicit | 500 words | wol/graha

He slept two hundred years, awakening in a blasted, desolate hellscape and still he loved her.

It was love that brought him across time and space. A journey that nearly broke him, mind body, and soul.

Love is the reason he did not shatter into a thousand, thousand glittering pieces.

Love is the reason the First remains whole and thriving.

Love is how he can be with her, here and now, holding her hips fast against the shuddering pleasure of his worship.

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day seventeen >> novel <<

teen | 650 words | wol/graha (ex libris)

G’raha turns the last page of the manuscript, setting it aside to rub a hand absently over Tizzy’s sun-warmed belly.

“Well?”

“Well,” he echoes, thoughtful.

The pause drags on long enough to take up not only a substantial physical presence but fully move in and owe one-third of this month’s rent.

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day nineteen >> turn a blind eye <<

explicit | 1.7k words | wol/magnai

The Warrior of Light, a nondescript little creature save her shock of voluminous amaranthine hair, towers over him, mismatched eyes narrowed. Her red dress trails over his armor, the myrrh and floral scent of her throwing his nerves into a maddening buzz.

His men keep to their posts, silent, staring at the walls. “Chain her up and throw her in a cell for the desecration of Azim! She has no authority over your most radiant brother, not even after victory in the Naadam! We sit the Dawn Throne, not she!”

Magnai’s commands fall on deaf ears; the sight of him debased, on blind eyes.

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day twenty >> anon <<

teen | 450 words | wol/zenos ; wol/g'raha

Sparkling dawn crawls over the bare horizon, reaching to caress them with gentle tendrils of golden light.

Stelmaria is beautifully lethal as ever and the picture of serenity, save the white knuckle grip on her elegant epee.

Zenos’ wide smile is pure joy, his boyish dimples making a rare appearance, though incongruous in the presence of wild azure eyes. “My dearest friend. My beast. My only. The day has dawned! The promised ‘anon’ has finally arrived.”

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day twenty-one >> solution <<

teen | 800 words | wol & hydaelyn

On the day she was born, Hydaelyn wept.

From her solitude deep within the aetherial sea she watched. Looked upon the squalling kit encircled by the mother's ghost-pale arms, her little red face squinched against the indignity of the world outside. Heard the father's earnest prayer of thanks to Menphina, coupled with a dedication that all three shall devote themselves to love in Her shining name.

In that moment Hydaelyn bequeathed the traveler's charm to this newest shard of Azem. A gift she knew the child would one day need.

One day was not now, however, and in watching the doting parents cuddle and kiss the tiny kit she was overcome by joy and hope. A sorrow most bittersweet, a sugar confection laced with wormwood. Hydaelyn sobbed at the scene and the Mothercrystal wept along with her.

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