FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #2: Horizon

FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #2: Horizon

Spoilers for the end of base-game Endwalker lie below the cut. You have been warned.

As a new dawn broke across the horizon at the edge of creation, Xander found himself face to face with one singular noisome loose end. A man who’d followed him across the depths of space at incomprehensible speeds to come to his aid in the final battle against the Endsinger, all to ensure that naught remained to forestall his precious rematch.

Zenos stood before him, hand extended to offer challenge and ‘singular bliss’. And as much as Xander wished to his very soul that he could take the bastard up on his offer to just leave him behind without fighting him at all, he knew that he couldn’t risk what Zenos might do if denied once more.

He nearly burned the world to cinders just to force me to fight him last time. I shudder to think what he will destroy to earn my ire if I don’t stop him here and now.

Xander closed his eyes, clenching his fist at his side as Zenos’ taunting goad of “Is that not so, adventurer?” echoed in his mind. Even now, even after everything, Zenos insisted that they were one and the same. Two souls driven by the thrill of combat, the mortal peril of dancing on the edge of life and death.

And maybe he was. Once upon a time. He’d willingly gone to the Bloodsands for a reason. Maybe that was still in him.

But Zenos didn’t need to hear that. Never. Not from him.

Part of Xander burned with the desire to wreak bloody vengeance upon this foul demon that had haunted his thoughts for far too long now. To make him pay for the utter violation, the humiliation of stealing the body he’d just made comfortable for himself for his own. To rend him limb from limb for all the harm he’d done to Etheirys.

But even his hatred would bring Zenos joy. And frankly, Xander didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He couldn’t leave. He had no choice but to indulge him in his little fantasy now. But he could make damned sure he derived not one bloody onze of the satisfaction he so desired.

He opened his eyes to behold his opponent in this strange dawn at the terminus of all, and, with his face set in a mask of determination, firmly replied, “Think what you will. But I’m not letting you leave this place.”

Zenos’ eyes slipped closed. Xander felt a momentary sting of petty delight at the silent sigh of disappointment writ large on his face.

And then, he had to open his godsdamned mouth.

“So, you would still play the hero.” Zenos opened his eyes, his grim expression shifting for a manic smile as he continued, “No matter. In acceptance, you reveal your deception. You know full well what we are. What we seek. To shine incandescent in death’s shadow!”

Xander’s eyes narrowed as he pulled out his codex, readying himself for another battle to the death against this one stubborn cockroach that refused to stay where the hells he belonged- in his memories. Shine incandescent in death’s shadow, he would indeed. And Zenos’ candle of life would be extinguished for good and all, even if it took his own life to do it.

FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #1: Steer

Spoilers for Dawntrail MSQ up to level 92 and all the story that comes before it lie beneath the cut! You have been warned.

Xander couldn’t help but chuckle as he settled into his cabin for the evening. How do I always manage to get myself entangled in politics? I keep swearing that this time, this time I’ll do the wise thing and act as an observer as I travel, and yet…

He’d had his misgivings about going to Tural for the sake of aiding the nation’s princess in her bid for the throne from the very beginning. While his time spent in other lands often ended up entwining him inexorably with their political goings-on, this would be one of the first times he was going to a location for explicitly political purposes. Well, aside from his aid in Doma and Ala Mhigo in their liberation from the Empire, but that felt different, and he wasn’t as directly involved in the discussions when the time came to determine what shape the nations would take in the wake of their newfound freedom. There, he was one soldier in a crack squad amongst many revolutionaries.

But this time- this time he’d be traveling to Tural strictly to aid someone in a political maneuver, throwing the weight of his not-inconsiderable strength as combatant and advisor behind whichever person received his backing. And yet, while having met Zoraal Ja himself, he was inclined to agree with Wuk Lamat’s assessment of his character, Xander couldn’t shake a feeling, especially during these early legs of his journey, that he’d been talked into backing the wrong horse.

Wuk Lamat was not ready to lead these people. He’d said as much directly to her father’s face, which was perhaps a lapse in etiquette and diplomacy, but he’d been asked for his honest opinion. She had a good heart, she clearly loved her nation, but she lacked the forbearance, maturity, and, more importantly in his book, the support of her people necessary to give her victory in the Rite of Succession any meaning.

As things currently stood, if she succeeded in the Rite where all others failed, Xander had little doubt that her success would be attributed not to her, but to her cadre of foreign allies, and especially to him, about whom some few rumors from overseas had already begun to circulate. (Though none properly grasped the depth of his deeds, and understandably so, they beggared belief when he considered them from an outsider’s perspective.)

He knew all too well what he looked like, his introversion mistaken for pride and smug superiority, his strategies and candid words to a nation’s leaders taken as strings pulled in a coup d'état at least once. An outsider, the wicked vizier to the throne who held the true political power. (An accusation that, at least for Ishgard, he would be hard-pressed to deny- he’d really charged in like an aurochs in a china shop and destroyed their thousand-year foundational beliefs without a second thought to the repercussions for the people living there, back then. It was little wonder people looked at him either awestruck or askance after he’d nigh-singlehandedly ended the Dragonsong War. The tales always conveniently forgot his comrades and companions in their efforts to tell stories of Great Men, it seemed.)

And who was he to come to Tural to steer the course of its future? Should that not be left to the people who lived there, with his influence far, far away from it?

He remembered asking that question once of his latest lover, a man only all-too-familiar with the concept of barging into another nation and imposing the will of another over it, ere he set out.

“The seeds of Empire are sewn upon two primary concepts: One, that your homeland’s culture is the best of all possible cultures. Two, that all other cultures must, by nature, be primitive, the result of ignorance, or dangerous, and a threat that must be eliminated. You have far more self-awareness than I did at your age, and have ever been to new locations as a learner and observer. You needn’t paralyze yourself from your nature of helping others, so long as you keep an open mind and listen.”

Gaius was right, Xander had to admit. And there was most certainly a difference between imposing one’s will and being invited to play a role.

A role that he was only now coming to understand, in full.

“Guide Lamaty’i in the way that you think best. Walk at her side and, when needed, push her to walk forward.”

He was not here to gain Wuk Lamat glory, but to nurture her. To ensure that she grew into someone truly worthy of the title of Dawnservant. He had been invited to aid her because learning of other people’s perspectives might force her to reconsider her own limited knowledge, and thence grow.

I’m hardly a stranger to mentoring others, be it in the art of combat or simply the life of an adventurer. Xander mused, fiddling with a crown-and-sword-shaped pin he kept fixed to his lapel. This is- while admittedly a much larger task- an evolution of that same mentality. So. Best not to think of this as a means to steer the course of a nation, but rather, a way to steer Wuk Lamat along the paths that will help her grow and aid her people the most. If in so doing, she manages to succeed in the Rite where others fail, then so be it. But even if not… He smiled to himself. It will be worth it to watch another sprout blossom.

Steer

Timeline: Early 2.0, Gridania quests

Mayhem has just proved their worth as an adventurer, and Kan-e-Senna has a bold offer to make in a show of respect.

“Though you’ve been away for some time, I’m sure a child of the forest can’t have forgotten the Greenbliss festival,” the elder Seedseer explained sweetly. “In thanks for your efforts, I would ask that you fulfill the role of Emissary in the ceremony. Would you do this for me?”

“Me?” Mayhem was startled by the request to say the least. The Emissary of the Greenbliss ceremony was humanity’s representative to communicate with the elementals; to play this role before the population of the capital and not some outlying village’s version would be a great honor, certainly. But there would be talk: unlike some adventurers, a Moon Keeper was not truly an outsider to the forest, but neither were they welcomed by the people of the city. Their traditional hunting activities were seen as disruptive and likely to call down the elementals’ wrath, never mind that those traditions had existed for as long as Gridania had, and the Miqo’te clans who practiced them had never been wiped out by the Greenwrath.

Mayhem had no particular interest in being a part of traditional Moon Keeper culture themself, but the citizens of Gridania would have no way of knowing that. For Kan-e-Senna to put them on the stage and declare them as worthy of being Emissary as any other citizen of the forest was a bold and controversial move, and as they met her eyes, Mayhem could see a determination that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “You’re sure of this,” they said, less in question and more in confirmation. “You want a Keeper of the Moon to represent Gridania.”

“If you’re willing,” she nodded firmly. “I know what I’m asking, and you’re free to refuse if the spotlight is too much - but I was given to understand you’re a performer, yes?” Her smile sharpened just a little. “I believe such a show of unity will guide public opinion to be more gracious toward those who have been excluded in the past. Won’t you help me put one on?”

Mayhem grinned back at her just as sharply. “Who am I to decline such an honor from the Elder Seedseer herself? I’d be delighted.” Just imagining all the sour-faced traditionalists in the audience would be more than enough motivation.

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I drew the gang,