FFXIV Writes 2023 - Day 2 - Bark

FFXIV Writes 2023 - Day 2 - Bark

Spoilers for the start of Shadowbringers and some minion flavor text. This is set before my canon WoL fantasias himself into a Viera, so he's a Hyur for this.

Gods, there are so damned many of them. Xander thought, horror coiling like a freezing-cold serpent around his gut.

Ahead of him, the mysterious Crystal Exarch (who'd momentarily earned his trust, if not yet discharged his suspicion) charged forward, driving conjured sword and shield deep into a feathered cocoon before it could hatch to birth a new monstrosity. Selene flew close behind the Exarch, tethering herself to his aether to keep his wounds from getting too severe. Wind tore a few stray hairs from Xander's well-kept bun as Lyna, the captain of the Crystarium Guard, dashed past him with chakrams in hand to tear apart what looked like it might once have been a Gremlin limb from limb before its taunting could dampen her lord's resolve.

"Are you all right back here?"

Alisaie's voice startled him momentarily from his contemplation as she skidded into place next to him, having backflipped out of the way of the former bull, now Sin Eater that broke through the fence before them. She wiped the sweat from her brow and readied her rapier before looking to him once more for an answer.

"So far, yes. My shielding spells haven't broken, and it looks like the Exarch is well on his feet, thanks to his more measured pace. If it'd been Celeste leading the vanguard, she'd have charged through every single foe and dragged them behind her to reach that thing we fought back in the clearing."

"I heard that, you arse!" his one adventurer ally mired in the First with him snarled back from the fields over the fence, her sword dripping with Darkness as she tore yet another newborn Sin Eater apart.

As his eyes swept over both the road (his immediate battlefield) and the fields beyond, now laden with Sin Eater cocoons instead of sheep and livestock, a small tendril of anxiety crawled up Xander's spine. All these sheep and no shepherd. Did he manage to escape, or...?

His unease only grew as a familiar sound carried over the chittering noises of their foes and the distant crackle of flames and echoes of screams ahead. Sharp, repetitive, high-pitched, and utterly terrified barks cut through the din.

There's a dog near here, but where-?

He got his answer a moment later, azure eyes widening in dawning horror as he saw the horse-human-winged abomination that most people became when turned into these monstrosities hovering before a dog about the height of his knees. A black dog with white brindle markings and a red collar around its neck that snarled and snapped and barked at the uncaring creature before them.

Xander received cries of alarm from his companions when he vaulted the fence to enter the fields, but he paid them no heed. The dog. He had to protect the dog from becoming one of those monstrosities. He threw a shielding spell around the both of them, clutching both book and animal to his chest as he knelt over it, feeling the Sin Eater's claws rake at his back. Enough to rend his shield and his clothes, but not his skin.

He held the glyphs for his most powerful offensive spell using arcanima in his mind's eye, holding his hand away from both himself and the now-squirming dog as fiery aether coalesced around it. When the spell was done charging, he twisted up to face his foe and blasted it right in the face with broiling hot aether that forced it to withdraw, covering its eyes. That made it an easy target for both Lyna's charkrams and Alisaie's magic, dissipating its essence into nothing.

The dog in his arms no longer squirmed, but poked their head over his shoulder, barking and whining right in his ear and pawing against his back as if reaching for the retreating form of their attacker.

In that moment, Xander reached a terrible understanding: That eater must have been the dog's former master. The poor thing must have thought they were playing at first, then gotten scared and confused when something that smelled like their master but didn't act like them emerged from that feathery cocoon.

"That was decidedly reckless! Are you all right?"

The Exarch's voice broke through Xander's thoughts, forcing him to stand, carrying the surprisingly hefty dog with him. All things considered, the furry one tolerated being carried rather well, in sharp contrast to when he first found his dog Gestahl wandering the streets of Ishgard on the Source.

Clambering over the fence without the aid of his arms took longer than Xander would have liked, given the emergent nature of the situation, but he managed, and soon reunited with the others on the main road.

"That's a black hayate." Lyna noted, a hint of awe coloring her voice. "I've only ever seen them in books that a few refugees from the eastern lands managed to bring with them. One of them must have taken up residence here in Holminster Switch and used it as a guard dog."

Alisaie's face twisted in sympathy. "Oh, then that Eater we just killed must have been its master, the poor thing..."

Xander sighed, rubbing the dog's incredibly fluffy back. "I thought so too. Obviously, I can't just carry our new friend with us, but I worry that if I let them go, they'll just get themselves into trouble again..."

He looked behind him to discover that Alphinaud and Celeste had gathered on the road to see what was going on. Alphinaud's Carbuncle sniffed the air as Xander leaned down to hand the dog off to the smaller elezen. "Can you hold him and look after him while the rest of us take care of the threats on the road?"

Alphinaud stammered, but did not complain as he took hold of the dog. "I- well, of course, if that's what you want, but how am I supposed to heal those in need of succor if my hands aren't-?"

The tell-tale swish of aether around someone who'd just taken hold of a different Job Stone filled the air, and where once Celeste stood in armor torn from the chassis of Omega with forged moonlight greatsword in hand, now an icy tree branch chilled the air around her, layers of flowing white and red cloth draping across her tall and slender form. "I've been getting back into practice with white magic, love, leave the healing to me. You just focus on keeping our four-legged friend here well in-hand."

Celeste scratched one of the Black Hayate's ears, and it let out another bark, this time of happiness. The sound made Xander let out a sigh of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding. There would be time enough to get to know the dog and enjoy their company back at the Crystarium. For now, he had to get back on the road.

He gave the dog one last scratch beneath the collar before returning at last to the vanguard, sprinting to keep up with them as they made up for lost time and charged for what once might have been the main planting area for the farm. An area over which a suspiciously and horrifyingly familiar shadow now loomed, wings beating erratically as it descended.

Alisaie's dull "So this is where you went..." confirmed his worst suspicions: They'd have to put down Tesleen to advance any further. Xander set his mouth in a grim line and pulled his codex from his hip, readying himself for what would surely prove a trying battle.

FFXIV Writes Day 1 - Envoy

Endwalker Spoilers, entry under the cut. CW for religious themes and suicide

Nerves had little place in the shared consciousness of the Meteia. Still, the burden placed upon the little starbird, that brave little spark faring the cold, endless sea of stars could not be denied. It wasn't easy to serve as mankind's envoy to their stellar cousins, and she'd met as much failure as success in her first forays. But she'd continue to seek out new peoples, new worlds. To find what gave their lives joy and meaning, and send her findings back to her sisters and Hermes himself. And then he'd smile and give her a flower, like he promised.

Everything would be fine. It would! Even if the first fourteen star systems she'd managed to track were less than encouraging, she wouldn't give up. ...even if more were like the eighth world her sister found, the one that lauded her as a celebrated envoy before annihilating itself and her in the process...

Should I be more careful when I get to this next star? She mused to herself. She hovered her bird form above the atmosphere of her next planet, considering her options carefully.

From a distance, the world didn't appear to be dangerous. There were no active fires or explosions, nor environmental degradation that could prove dangerous to her as she descended. In fact, it seemed almost peaceful.

And yet, deep in her chest, she could feel the cold claws of despair digging at her, emanating from the world below.

Oh no... Not here, not here too!

She dove into the planet's atmosphere, streaking through the sky like a comet as she descended towards its surface, towards the one strong beacon of emotion she could sense, driven by equal parts determination and terror.

It's just lingering sentiment from my sisters, things will be fine here, they HAVE to be!

Yet all the positive thinking in the world could not alter the reality into which she fell. Though there were no fires, no windstorms, no earth-shattering cracks or floods or frozen wastes or plagues choking the air, there were bodies and collapsed buildings. Innumerable, immeasurable destruction, yet tinged with an eerie stillness and quiet, the calm before or immediately after the storm.

There was a man- or something vaguely in the shape of one, albeit far too short for any she knew back on Etheirys- knelt before the rubble, his face coated in dust and dried viscera. She assumed her humanoid form to approach him, gently reaching out to his mind.

[Greetings. Can you hear me?]

The man started, his hand reaching for a blade at his side as he rose to his feet and whirled around to face her. Clearly, he was expecting an attacker, and she needed to chose her next words with care. (Although her programming would allow for but the standard greeting once she began it.)

[Do not be alarmed! I only wish to hear your words. Share your feelings. Know your thoughts. May we please be friends?]

The man laughed, as though the notion of companionship in his current surrounds was some incomprehensible cosmic joke. "Friends? You talk to me in my head, and expect that we can simply 'be friends' after everything that's happened here?"

She tilted her head. ['After everything that's happened'? Could you please explain? I've come from another star to discover what other people live for, and I don't know anything about this place.]

"...you want to know what we live for here?" The man asked, incredulous. After a moment of silence, he heaved a sigh from somewhere deep in his chest. "Once, I knew the answer to that question. We all did. We lived for our God, our glorious Creator. He gave us everything we could ever ask for. Safe haven from the wilderness, systems of law, intellect, art, magic, our very forms."

A bitter scowl crossed his face. "And then we grew proud. We thought ourselves beyond Him, thought we could ascend to His level. One of our number even managed to pierce His lofty heavenly throne, and then..."

The man shuddered. "Judgement was swift. Retribution moreso. He made our towers crumble and collapse beneath their own weight, stole the lifesbreath from our lungs, and proclaimed that once this season's crops had been reaped, nothing more would grow again. He proclaimed us a failure, then abandoned us after unmaking all we had become."

Meteion felt a sympathetic shudder roil across her being, not only from the sheer weight of his emotions, but from her sisters' knowledge of Etheirys. How familiar this tale felt to her ears, to be treasured as a beautiful creation, then cast aside once one no longer served their purpose.

Unbothered by her reaction, the man paused in his recollection of events to address her directly. "And you would ask me what I live for?"

She nodded, whispering in his mind, [Yes! I know things are bad right now, but surely there must still be something that you live for!]

The man shook his head, a hollow look of resignation sinking into his eyes. "He was everything to us, and without Him, we are nothing. We will not survive without His protection and guidance. ...I see now that those of us left alive after he left us were the cursed ones, not the fortunate. He wanted us to suffer and die for our pride. He wanted to punish those of us left behind. I was the last to hold on to hope that He would return. And I will hold on no more."

The man drew his blade and Meteion took a step back, arms raised as if they would do anything to defend her if he struck. [Wait! P-Please wait, there must be something worth living for, some small happiness or joy or hope or favorite food or-!]

Again, the man shook his head. "Fly away, little one. May your wings carry you to brighter worlds than this. There is nothing you seek here."

Ichor painted his neck. A body fell to the ground before the star-faring familiar with the mind of an inquisitive young girl. She fell to her knees shortly after, wailing in agony and sympathetic sorrow as the emotions of all the dead around her closed in like a whirlwind, tinting her feathers black as the void of space from end to base.

It was too much, too much for any soul to bear. World after world, star after star, nothing but sadness and anger and hatred and death and despair and-

No more. No more could she abide in useless hope. She would join the rest of her sisters singing a requiem for the universe, and serve as an envoy of despair.

Her report rang through her shared consciousness to all her sisters. It read:

"Deka-pente. Local civilization once flourished under auspices of higher power. Said power later laid waste to civilization in fit of rage. Upon revealing this to me, entity elected to self-terminate in lieu of providing answer to question. No other intelligent life-forms found."

i still miss him. if you even care

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.