Ffxiv Oc - Tumblr Posts

Light Party 🔥Four characters in my FFXIV FC adventuring together! After all that healing, Mylon definitely appreciates the marshmallows!

Baby Mylon in the hands of his mother, Larissa. 💖🌼 Extra oc lore under the cut!

Mylon was a pretty big baby actually, but his mother is huuuuge, so he looks like a cute little potato here. Also, yes, that's younger Tir in the back, she was in a queerplatonic relationship with his mother! Larissa was her everything, and just seeing her happy with her children every day was enough to brighten Tir's life for an eternity. Larissa had many children as a hrothgar queen, and Tir diligently watches over all of them for her, long after her passing.

I did a unique design for my Ixali girl, Rutali! ❤️ Extra lore under the cut!

Rutali is an apprentice under Amber Apple Witch, another ffxiv oc of mine that runs a guild that doubles as both a school for witches, and a loving home for those Gridania often treats as "outcasts"(duskwights, keepers of the moon, ixali, etc.). Rutali is trying to learn to become a witch under her because she admires her generosity, and also because broom-powered flight would be a dream come true for her!

A celebratory Mylon and Anglea 💐💙 This was a lot of fun to draw! I designed them both unique outfits for this piece! Also yes, Anglea is fully capable of lifting him like this!

For awhile now I have wanted to include Araceli and Kazoh in the "different fantasy world au" that I did for Anglea and Mylon where I made them into a centaur and an elf! And now I have! 💕 Have Dwarf Araceli and Jackal (dog kobold) Kazoh!

A celebratory Mylon and Anglea 💐💙 This was a lot of fun to draw! I designed them both unique outfits for this piece! Also yes, Anglea is fully capable of lifting him like this!

Light Party 🔥Four characters in my FFXIV FC adventuring together! After all that healing, Mylon definitely appreciates the marshmallows!

Kaleh'a was worried. The number of injured as he picked his way through them towards the main building the Twin Adders inhabited was too many. Far too many for a single Blue-Back to have caused. He was almost certain they had specifically said only a few injuries, some serious, others less so, but only a small number. So what had caused all the others?

He was mid-step when he felt her magic bloom behind him, turning in wonder as she concentrated and summoned aether to her staff. The glow of the focus point drew his gaze, and his ears flicked in the wind caused by it, his tail swaying as he felt how the aether reacted, changed, and shifted around them, spiraling in to her and lifting her from the ground. His eyes went wide, unsure if that was normal, his ears up at attention as he watched her float there, and the burst of warm, aether filled air that had his body feeling...invigorated was a sight to behold. His eyes tracked the many different sparkling dots, his smile growing as he watched how they fell, saw and heard how moans of pain and hurt faded into soft sighs of relief, missing her floating back down to the ground, his tail flicking about excitedly as he was reminded, once again, how incredible a White Mage could be.

He turned to her, his blue eyes picking out the exertion on her face, and he nodded in understanding, knowing that such a spell had to have cost a lot of aether, especially since it seemed to be acting over time as well. He quickly hopped up the steps towards the Adders' Nest, stopping before a smartly dressed Marshal, giving them a quick nod and tilting his head towards Cyra as he rapidly explained. "A got the blue-back, and ran across a White Mage while hunting it. She offered to help heal the injured."

He wanted to ask more, but the Marshal hardly let him, quickly waving to Cyra as he spoke rough and quick. "Good, we need as many hands as we can get. Wait out here while I see her to the infirmary."

Kaleh'a looked shocked, his gaze flicking to Cyra and then back to the Marshal, his tail agitatedly swaying behind him, smacking a passing Twin Adder spearman. "Wait here? I was planning on helping her, replacing bandages and--"

"We don't need your kind of help."

Those words had Kaleh'a bristling, his ears laying back, his tail going still, and his boots took a thudding step forward, the long blue-back feather in his quiver drooping back. "Really? I've killed your blue-back, have proof, and am now offering to help your obviously short handed healers, and you throw that in my face?" The Marshal, stubbornly, held his ground, eyes narrowing at the Miqo'te as a hand fell to the blade at his side, right up until a hand landed on his shoulder, and Grand Serpant Marshal Brookstone interjected.

"Now now, we both know we could use the help, and Kaleh'a has more than proven himself now and before." The Grand Marshal's one good eye turned to Kaleh'a, giving him a warm smile. "Forgive my subordinate's...enthusiasm in protecting our weak. He clearly has made a mistake and I will ensure personally he is reprimanded for it."

"But--sir!" The glare the man got shut him up instantly, both from Brookstone and Kaleh'a, the two blondes not giving an inch until the Marshal slunk off, and Kaleh'a let out a little sigh of relief.

"Thanks, sir." He gave the Grand Marshal a wan smile, the mirth never reaching his eyes, as the red and yellow dressed man loosed his own sigh of frustration.

"No, thank you, Kaleh'a. I'd offer more apologies, but we are truly in dire straights. I trust you and your healer are prepared?"

"As ever!" The blonde Miqo'te grinned, and he reached up to touch the feather. "I think the injured will be glad to see this too."

Brookstone laughed, and shook his head in disbelief, but agreed wholeheartedly, while waving the two forward. "Come, I'll personally escort you to the infirmary. That way there won't be anymore misunderstandings."

The Keeper was thankful that she had not spent the day spending her Aether. She very well could have chosen to train the control over her own flow, but the Twelve had made the suggestion that she do something a little more simple. At least, that was the feeling she had at the start of her busy day. She remained quiet through Kaleh'a's questions, analyzing the wounded laid out in the grass outside of the headquarters.

This is more than just a rampaging Blue-back.

She felt her normally round pupils constrict as the thought of a true battle being fought. Gridania and the Black Shroud bordered a nation that provided her with a life full of misery. If there had been a scuffle on the border, she would want to hear of it. However, far more important matters require her attention.

There wasn't time to check them all individually, not with how some had already soaked through their carefully placed bandages. She felt her heart clench in her chest with concern and worry for every life laid bare on the fields.

"I'll join you in a moment." Her hard stare at the bodies laid out in front of them was a good indicator of her intentions. She picked up the pace, nearly joining the blond Keeper in a jog as she trotted up to the center of the field.

Staff in hand, Cyra furrowed her brow as she began channeling her flow of aether into her staff. The point of focus at the top began to glow, and the air began swirling around her. Drawing on both wind and water, the light traveled through her and into her staff. At the height of the concentration, her body lifted from the earth by only a few ilms. And in an instant, the air burst with a warming wind, flecks of aether sparkling as they descended downward from the blanket of magic that covered the area. The spell concluded, and her feet once more touched the ground.

Her efforts granted her a few small beads of sweat as the magic had cost her quite a large portion of her personal well of aether. She took no more than a few seconds to begin getting to work on visually inspecting those laid out on the lawn. Most had relatively superficial injuries, maybe some broken bones, and the worst of them had some relatively deep lacerations. The magic had already begun it's work on them, slowly mending their hurts as they waited to be treated. She had plenty more mana to spare.

In her focus, she continued walking towards the interior of the Twin Adders. She knew they kept their more urgent cases farther in the actual infirmary. No doubt that was where Kaleh'a had been headed, so that's where she too would follow.

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

To the corpse. To the rocks beneath their feet. To the tree, the chocobo eating said tree, multiple things, each time saying the word until such a point he was confident that Bryn got the idea, his hands resting on his hips as he hopped forward to stand close to him once more. “Aether is Life. That is all La’Mellae need.” He patted his body, slender fingers sliding from his core down to his hips as if to motion to all the pieces within; “Only Feast or Breed.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When that clawed hand took his, shifted it, and slowly pressed it to smooth, scaled flesh, Bryn felt his breath come in a little more, a little faster, and then closed his eyes, his palm pressing into that cool chest and feeling...

He wasn't going crazy. There was no heartbeat. It was just a soft, ever present thrum of a core. He could feel it there, under his palm, and feel the hand pressed to the back of his, soaking in that feeling for a moment as he understood that his panic before was unwarranted, just...misunderstanding of how Whillow's body worked. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and let his hand fall away, falling back to his side as he watched the little dragon turn towards his meal. The sharp dewclaw, the way it sliced through flesh and bone so easily, reminded Bryn that the Gecko was dangerous, which would be hard to forget given how he had leapt onto the large beast and just...shredded it. As the petite dragon bent over, his gaze trailed along that tail and over the rump stuck up in the air, his arms crossing lightly as he turned his gaze away, leaving the dragon to eat, but the way he rose up on tip-claw, seemed to hide what he was doing, it was appreciated.

What was not hidden though was the sounds, the wet squelches, gasps, and exhales, which leant enough mental imagery to the soldier to know what was happening, glancing down at his boots, kicking one absently. It gave him time to think, to formulate more questions, and hypotheses.

A core. What was a core? Not a heart, an organ? It had to be. He thought over it, shaking his head, and looking up at the gecko, wondering what it was like. To not feel the beat of a heart... He lifted his hand, pressing it to his chest, feeling that comforting thum-thump, and he closed his eyes as he kept thinking, and realized...maybe that wasn't needed for Whill. His senses...they are heightened, clearly. Maybe he can feel and hear that core, while I struggle to feel it. He tapped a foot absently, accepting that as a good enough answer, and the others he had...well, he could wait on those. For the moment, all that mattered was Whillow would be feeling better after his meal.

The sound of satisfaction drew his gaze, eyes opening...that shiver, the whip of his tail, all of it just drew his gaze in a way, like a predator eyeing a teasing prey, eyes gleaming as he saw that tongue again glide over fingers and clean away any leftover gore. It made focusing on those pointing fingers, the motions to the different things around them, a little harder to follow, but the meaning behind it was not foreign. Aether made up everything, by the Twelve, watched over and managed by Them. He turned his gaze to the little dragon as he hopped forward, right in front of him, hands on his hips, the soldier not backing away, looking down into those slitted pupils with eyes of silver, nodding in half understanding as--

He choked on air, his pupils shrinking to points, hand darting to his throat, swallowing heavily and then clearing his throat with a rumbling cough, slowly letting his gaze slide back to Whillow as he took a slow breath, finding he wasn't choking on those anymore, and managed to get out a weak, "I...see. Was not expecting that..."

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Darkened jaws of ragged metal rose up from the loose earth to snap up at the air above them. The sound made her wince as it cut through the air with a shrieking snap. It was a far more efficient version of the very same traps hunters and poachers used within the Black Shroud. The same things that she often spent her time wandering around to disarm and leave out for the Twin Adders to dispose of on their patrols of the border. The Garleans weren't so foolish as to incite the ire of the Elementals this far into their territory. Using explosives to hide under the dirt would have been a fast track to losing their castrums seated within Eorzean territory. "Think of it as nothing more than an elaborate bear trap, Kaleh'a." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Look for disturbed earth along the ground and you'll come to find them far easier, I'm sure."

Kaleh'a had continued sprinting past Cyra, to a tree, leaping behind it, and peering out as he tried to beckon to Cyra to join him to avoid whatever other danger might lay out there, only to hear the amusement in his fellow Moon Keeper's voice as she seemed completely unphased and rather...used to it. He slowly, carefully, stepped out from behind the tree, approaching as she showed off a bit of her power, his eyes snapping to the stones as they floated and spun, hovering above another trap, eying the thing now that he knew what to look for, his steps light as the stones suddenly dropped, hitting the center of the trap and--

He jolted, jumping again as he hissed in displeasure at the sharp clang of metal as the teeth of it coming together, snapping up just like a giant bear trap, his tail bristling as he shivered at the thought of...stepping on one. It would have taken him out, left his upper half detached from the lower half, and he had to pat his waist to make sure that yes, yes he was still whole. Carefully he approached the triggered trap, running a hand over the metal of it, tilting his head slightly as poked at it, prodded softly, and then murmured, "This would...shit this could kill a Ziz..."

He could only imagine that these things would easily upset the balance of the forest, his eyes slowly scanning around as he worked to calm himself, soft breaths, calming his racing heart, his mind, and finally managing to get his tail to un-bristle and settle down, swaying angrily behind him as he shook his head and angrily growled, "This is...this is terrible! Why are they here? In Gridanian territory? What possible use could they have!?"

He turned to her, right as she wiped her brow, and his expression changed from anger to worry, noting her slightly paler face and beads of sweat, stepping a little closer and quickly asking, "Hey, you okay? I didn't see what you did but...I can tell something has changed." He wasn't completely lying, he could feel the air felt different, the aether more dispersed, and as he looked closer, he noticed her staff, or more specifically the focus, was glowing a lot more than it had before. He reached out, poking the stone softly, enraptured for a moment as he mumbled, "Oh, it's glowing now. Does that mean...its more powerful? Ah! I'm getting distracted!"

He quickly shook his head, and then pointed back to the trap, and quickly blurted out, "We have to tell someone about this! Or find all the ones out here! These are incredibly dangerous! If I had walked into one..." He shivered and his tail swayed unhappily, his ears slicked back. "I don't think even your healing could have helped me..."

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

Cyra still turned her head to snap at the hands that came close to the ties that held the garment closed at her shoulder. Their words had become nothing but gibberish in her drugged state. She answered them with her own spat curses. It wasn't until one of the guards had enough of the primal display, stepping forward with the bite guard he had been instructed to keep on his person by the lead scientist. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and one of her ears, he pulled her head up, handing the mask to the medicus at his side. She hadn't much energy to fight other than shaking her head as best as she could. With the muzzle now secured over her chomping teeth, the man began peeling the bloody garment off of her, and then the bandage. She let out another yell, prompting the guard at her side to release her hair to cover his ears. Cyra would not relinquish herself to their touch without a fight.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn did not sleep that evening.

It was already late when he finished his report, and when he laid down...sleep didn't come. It hovered, on the edge of his conscious mind, his body aching as the events of the day washed over him, and he kept replaying it, over and over and over.

He had attacked a commanding officer, someone who outranked him, had nearly blown his cover over her. Her. Cyra. He couldn't tell why seeing her like that had seen such a guttural reaction from him, scratching his head as he tried to think through it, giving up on sleep as he thought through his...feelings. Protective feelings. Not completely odd, given she was Eorzean, and as was he. But it was more than that. There were other slaves here and he had walked past them, with sadness, yes, with pain for their plight, but not...not the same reaction as with Cyra.

He had spent more time with her. Seen how she reacted to his words, his help, his concern, his little ways to try and help, and he had seen how she feared him, feared his help, feared his touch, his words, his threats. She didn't understand what he was, what he was trying to do. He was just trying to protect her, protect them. And he couldn't protect them by being kind, by making her feel all warm and fuzzy. He had to play his part, his role, the man who would punish her for no reason, would make her fear his clenched fist while offering his open palm with the other hand. He could only hope that she understood, that she got the message. Today though, that would be ten...fifteen...twenty steps back.

By the time the sun rose, he was calmer, controlled, back to his normal stony face as he rose with the sun and slowly moved to dress--he had never undressed, still in his clothes from the day before, reaching down and brushing out his shirt, grabbing the one spare jacket he had, the other with Cyra, or whoever had taken if off her, and finally brushing down his pants before he clicked his boots together and muttered, "Well...at least I am still presentable."

It did not take him long to leave his room after that, the magitek rifle over his shoulder, this time going with his weapon for a bit of extra officialness, turning smartly and heading towards his first stop of the day.

And his least favorite.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"You...attacked...A COMMANDING OFFICER!"

Bryn didn't even flinch, his back rigid, his eyes to the front, staring not at the Commander, but just above him, his lips pursed in a tight line as he took the verbal tongue lashing that had so far lasted a solid five minutes. It was much the same thing repeated over and over, that he had defied the chain of command, had committed a crime worthy of death, and had called into question his loyalty to the Garlean Empire. Which, was all fair. What wasn't fair was giving him the same dry threat over and over.

"I should have you executed! In front of the prisoners! As and example!" Bryn had responded the first time, and he didn't the tenth, just staring straight ahead, waiting, and finally, the Commander stopped pacing, sighed with frustration, and sat behind his desk, pounding his fist against it. "That's what I should do... But not what I am going to do."

We both knew that after the first time you said it...and did nothing. Bryn's mind absently refocused, having drifted from the verbal tirade in front of him to more...peaceful thoughts, but now that it was drawing to a close, he was happier to focus fully and listen in. His silver eyes eyed the Commander as he blinked and waited, no surprise when the Commander met his gaze and finally continued, his voice a low angry tone. "While you did attack me, and threatened my life, you showed you were committed to your training of the slave, and making sure she was ready for my...command. Still, I can't let this go unpunished... So I am agreeing to the testing of the serum on you, the moment it is stable."

"Understood, sir." The first words Bryn said, and they were simple, bland, hardly worth the effort of saying as he still stood at attention. What came after confirmed exactly what the Commander felt about the situation.

"And Sergeant...I am going to enjoy watching the fight drain from you when the serum takes hold." It was enough for Bryn to meet the Commander's eyes, the cold, hard, angry eyes of a man belittled and betrayed, as silver eyes flashed with a threat of their own, before it was stifled. But the affect it had was clear, the shrink back, the fear that flickered across the Commander's face, and the slow press of a spineless back against the too large chair.

Bryn didn't even answer, only turned, and left.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It didn't take long to retrieve breakfast, for himself and his charge, before heading towards the cell block, stepping into the cold air that always seemed to seep through the metal corridor with her tray in hand, opening the cell door, and stepping in, eyes on the floor as he trusted his other senses to warn him if she tried to move towards him, rumbling out, "Breakfast. How's the-"

He looked up, and saw...nothing. There was no lashing tail, twitching ears, angry claws, no Cyra, no...anything. Her blanket lay crumpled in the corner where it was left the day before, ages ago, but she wasn't under it.

Had they moved her?

The tray was gripped in his hands, turning about face on his heels, striding from the cell and snapping to head down the row of prisoners trapped in their cold cells. And he stared at every one of them. In the eyes, if they looked up, a few reaching for the food, but he kept going. There was no blue furred Miqo'te. There was no Cyra.

The tray slammed against the ground, and his rifle was off his back, turning and storming towards the very office he had left minutes before, his eyes blazing as he felt a snarl rising to his lips. If she is dead, if she died, my promise to kill him stands, my promise--the infirmary.

He halted, skidded, his boots clanging on the ground, and he blinked, feeling his control return, as he realized there was one more place to go. To check. And as he turned to head back the other way at a brisk pace, his rifle did not leave his hands.

voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

"Enough! I don't care who does it, but one of you help me! Hold her down so I can finish stitching her back up again." The man turned to look at the commotion by the door. His words had been spat out as venom to halt the conflict and complete the task at hand. Cyra's only response to his added voice in the chaos, was to lurch toward him with a growl. Her tail whipping out to slap at his side while he swatted back at the tufted appendage to keep it from contaminating his tools.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He barely remembered the moments between setting where he was going, and heading there, his heavy boots thumping against the ground and metal, turning away from the exit they had taken the other day, then up a flight of stairs, down the hallway, and rapidly towards a set of white painted double doors, his rifle ready, his eyes gleaming, prepared for anything.

And then he heard her scream.

He was through the door in a flash, the doors flying open and slamming against the walls, the hinges whining in protest, as Bryn saw the soldier turn, yell, and take a step towards him, and then think better of it, the rifle in Bryn's hands half lowered as if ready to bring to bear and shoot, the Garlean man still standing in front of Cyra and the medicus, prepared to stop the supposed threat to the doctor and the Commander's prized possession. Bryn's focus though was on Cyra, on the young woman on the table, blood dripping down her back, squirming in pain and anger, the monitors hooked up to her, the man over her, how she was restrained, arms and legs pulling against the restraints, but unable to move, to pull away, to pull away from the garbed and ready doctor, the silver eyes of the soldier flashing as he felt his teeth grit and he growled out at the soldier in his way, "Step aside. No-"

But he never finished it, the guard turning towards the medicus, his angry yell and order surprising them both, but it was Bryn who reacted quicker, recognizing that it was a mending procedure, the needle, the twine, the classic preparation of a stitching, and he knew that Cyra would be less than pleased about it.

And in one moment, the soldier found himself the proud new owner of a rifle, and Bryn was by the blue Miqo'te's side, grabbing her shoulder and holding it tight, so her back was bared to the medicus, and her face was forced to look at him, his eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded to the medicus, voice low and steady. "Quickly. She's stronger than she looks."

It was true, but his grip was stronger, and he had the advantage of looking into her eyes, seeing her anger, fear, and hatred. He knew with where he was standing, restraints or not, that he was now the target, and that was something he could handle, holding her gaze as one hand held her chin, the other on her shoulder, keeping her focused on him as he shook his head at her, warning her not to move. "It's going to hurt, but your wound is too deep to leave untreated. Stay. Still."

It wasn't like she was going to listen to him, but he had to say it anyways, hoping that maybe, she would listen to him, to a familiar face, if she even remembered him. He had no idea what she remembered after such an experience, if she recognized his face, his voice, or how she viewed him after he had just...watched.

But he could at least try.

13th-dragon-prince--[Prior]

Until Eljth learned the game that is. Pointed ears wiggled as the lizard swayed some with that ever flip-flopping docile mischievousness. A curious point to his reflection as he stared (squinted) to the sun, recognizing the time as a fair sum until true nightfall. Bryn was Hume. Hyur. He did not consume stone or crystal. Whillow pointed to his companion’s stomach unprompted. “Eat.”

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was acutely aware of the tail that wrapped around him, already familiar with what it could potentially do, and he had no desire to see who was faster in rending a spine disconnected. The warning was enough, and he saw the recognition of it, that Whillow understood it was just a playful warning, and a small little promise that he could handle the rough housing himself.

It was an effort though to not think about that shiver, the reaction to it, the way it had felt...good with Whillow beneath him. It was that other half of him, the half that craved the hunt he had just teased, and he had to roll his neck, his shoulders, his body to try and pat it down, to get it to stop gnawing at its leash. It wasn't easy, given that the Hyur was teased by a rattling tail, making him question the heritage of the dragon once again. Snake? Or dragon?

At least he got a laugh from Whill, the Hyur now standing as he stretched, rolled his hips once and making sure the unnatural bend had not messed with his mobility, grunting as he found himself actually a bit looser, taking a step, then lifting the opposite knee high, and pleased enough situated himself back onto both feet. He glanced down at Whillow, the little lizard cross legged on the ground, holding his own ankles, and peering back up at him, and speaking words rather ironic to the soldier.

Night was his greatest ally as a scout, but for what he had planned, it was his worst enemy. As the lizard mocked his motions of brushing off, he snorted at the tapping of dark chitin, recognizing and having to admit that yes, the dragon had an advantage at night, one Bryn would sorely lack. But there were other ways to track tricky dragons.

Especially with silver eyes that saw through the dark better than most.

He was whistling for Featherflame as Whillow swayed and cocked his head, looking at Bryn like a curious subject to study as Bryn took a moment to shade his eyes and also glance to the sky, marking the sun, the time, and the time till night, humming softly to himself as Featherflame slowly trotted over and brushed past the-clawed-one before stopping in front of her master. As he petted her beak, the Hyur absently grabbed something from the saddle bag and bit into it, tearing a hunk of dried and salted meat from a rough cut square, right around the same time that Whillow pointed to him and said Eat.

Holding up the jerky, he lifted an eyebrow and rumbled back, "I thought I was looking after you, not the other way around." He took another bite, nonetheless, and continued to make his way through the jerky square as he glanced back towards Mor Dhona, wondering if they should head back, and a sudden idea hit him.

"Whillow, has anyone taken you to the market?" Bryn had two fangs of deadly beasts that he could turn in, two trophies to earn a fair sum of gil, gil he could use to entice the little lizard into learning about trade and bartering. Skills he doubted the kill-first-ask-questions-later lizard knew how to use. Plus, he could buy some things for the evening. A better coat, darker, and something to hide my scent. He had no idea if Whillow could smell him, or if he could track a prey by aether alone, but if he was going to hunt and be hunted, he'd take any upper hand he could get.

"I wouldn't mind turning in our hunt, getting a bit of gil and spending it. I think half for each of us is fair?"

Ask List of Hypothetical OC Situations.

Your OC has their fortune read and the portents are distinctly ominous...

Your OC slips over on icy ground in front of a crowd - it doesn't hurt much, but it's very public.

Your OC unexpectedly wins a prize in a competition or quiz.

Your OC has a nightmare or bad dream and wakes up others by calling out involuntarily.

Your OC orders food in an inn or restaurant and it arrives cold and (to be honest) not what they actually ordered...

Your OC discovers that an acquaintance - who they view positively, but have no romantic feelings towards - has a massive crush on them.

Your OC must buy (or otherwise obtain) a new and decidedly fancy outfit for a high society event.

Your OC is handed a baby to hold whilst their parent attends to an emergency.

Your OC is out in the wilds and needs to make camp for the night.

Your OC is introduced to someone who they have clearly met before and cannot remember their name in the slightest.

Your OC is alone in a supposedly haunted building or abandoned ruin.

Your OC is teased regarding something that they actually feel very sensitive about.

Your OC receives a mysterious letter accusing a close friend or lover of wrongdoing - or perhaps even something truly heinous.

Your OC is walking along the street and someone runs into them accidentally and apologises.

Your OC is gifted an outfit or costume that is really rather risqué - if not outright brazen.

Your OC has already eaten and is very full, but is offered a generous meal by a hospitable friend they do not wish to offend.

Your OC is called upon to tell a joke or funny story.

Your OC is challenged to contest of strength or skill by someone of surpassing arrogance.

Your OC is approached by a friend or acquaintance in need of advice in matters of romance - or even sexual intimacy.

Your OC loses something important to a partner or close friend - perhaps something of great sentimental value or simply very expensive.

Your OC is doing a silly, and distinctly unflattering impression, of someone they know, when that person walks in on their performance.

Your OC is asked to lead the first dance at a sophisticated society event or party.

Your OC encounters a beggar or panhandler who requests some money to relieve their many hardships - their story seems genuine, but something feels off...

Your OC is asked by a friend or acquaintance if their new outfit (or armour as the case may be) looks good on them. It really really doesn't...

Your OC is bathing naked - perhaps under a waterfall or in a stream - when a stranger interupts them.

Your OC is asked to make a speech or read a poem at a wedding or funeral.

Your OC stubs their toe and it really hurts.

Your OC is travelling by boat or carriage and a stranger falls asleep on their shoulder.

Your OC is getting into bed when there is a sudden (and very insistent) knocking on their door.

Your OC is lost in a gloomy forest and it's starting to get dark.

Your OC wakes up with a thumping headache and no clear memories of what happened the night before.

Your OC is being lectured, or possibly even scolded, by someone in a position of authority.

Your OC has found something funny and cannot, literally cannot, stop laughing.

Your OC discovers that a rather straitlaced and reserved friend or acquaintance has secret and rather shocking habit, interest or kink.

Your OC finds a lost child in the marketplace or commercial district.

Your OC is training or sparring and someone compliments them.

Your OC is mistaken for a servant or domestic by a rather haughty individual of high social standing.

Your OC is forced, due to a series of unforeseen events, to borrow a set of clothes from a friend or acquaintance that is very far from their usual style.

Your OC discovers that they have a fan club - or at least a following of devoted admirers.

Your OC is watching someone attempt to do something at which they are extremely capable. However the person they are watching really isn't...

Your OC is in company when a remark is made about a race or nation of people that is, at best unkind and inaccurate, and at worst downright bigoted.

Your OC is watching a stage performance by a clown or magician and is called up to the stage in the name of audience participation...

Your OC and a close friend are sharing a room, but there is only one bed. A reasonably-sized bed, but definitely only the one.

Your OC is called upon to recount an embarrassing or comic incident in which they have been involved.

Your OC finds a wallet or coinpurse dropped on the street - a very full one with a lot of money in it.

Your OC goes to the baths or spa in a new city and discovers it is very much communal.

Your OC attends a memorial service or funeral and is asked, unexpectedly, to say a few words about the deceased.

Your OC accidentally breaks the law - or perhaps does so in order to achieve some higher aim - and is challenged by the authorities.

Your OC is gifted some rather racy underwear or beachwear by an admirer or partner.

Your OC finds something they though had been lost forever long ago - perhaps a letter from a friend, a picture of a family member or a souvenir of a even many years before.

Day 6 - Halcyon

[Spoilers for ARR, Stormblood and Heavensward]

“What was it like, before the occupation?”

In that moment, Conrad Kemp couldn't keep the surprise from flickering over his face, turning to look at the Ala Mhigo native turned refugee and stare for a long, hard moment. Brynhorn Fiske sat unmoving, gazing out over Rhalgr's Reach with a critical silver eye from their perch atop the outstretched hand of Rhalgr himself. Gentle wind, blocked by the high walls on all sides, gently breezed through the white hair of the older man, and the longer black, more unkempt hair of the younger man, tugged at their coats, and brought a slow realization to the leader of the Ala Mhigan Resistance leader.

“Ah, you only knew the Garlean occupation.” Bryn nodded, shifting the rifle laid over his lap, and a look of soft sadness passed over his eyes. “Yes, and no. They invaded when I was ten. And I fled for my life at thirteen to avoid conscription. But my life before that…” He didn’t want to get into it, what he had seen, how he, so young, was forced to see the darker side of human nature. How even without the Garlean invasion, he would have fled anyways.

“You knew it right as you became a man,” was all Conrad said in reply, and Bryn nodded in agreement. For a long moment, they were both silent, and then Conrad spoke in a quiet voice. “It would be inaccurate of me to say peace existed with the King of Ruin on the throne, but the time before him…” He trailed off, and he smiled, eyes wistful as he tilted his head up into the air. “Halcyonic. My wife and I were together, we were happy, we had not a care in the world but healing, learning, growing. It was all incredibly peaceful.”

Bryn nodded softly, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine a time when the King of Ruin was not in control. When the Garleans were not using his village as a staging ground. When he might have had a normal life. He took a deep breath of the cool air, and let it out slowly, sighing as he shook his head. “I can only imagine.”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Conrad said softly, motioning to the Warrior of Light beneath them, to the small contingent of Eorzean Grand Company members milling about, providing aid or training to the resistance. “For once, Eorzea is taking interest in our plight, the city states are sending aid. They took the wall-”

“-and paid dearly for it,” Bryn’s voice had more bite than he meant, and he saw Conrad’s face fall, the pain evident in his expression.

“Aye, that we did. Papalymo was as much a friend of mine as he was to you and yours.” Bryn was silent in the wake of that admission, and it was many, many seconds before he broke the silence.

“There was a time I was ready to turn my back on my home, to forget I ever hailed from here, to stay in Eorzea and see where it took me. But seeing this…” He gestured to the resistance, and shook his head. “This reminded me there is something worth fighting for here.”

Conrad nodded, in understanding, his eyes softening. “Thank you for agreeing to fight with us.”

Bryn rose, and shouldered his rifle, glancing at Conrad as he grunted in reply, “Thank me after we finish this fight.” And he strode towards the winding path that led back down to Rhalgr’s Reach and his waiting friends, new and old.

Day 12 - Quarry

The Black Shroud was alive with sounds and animal life, the ziz squawking about some meal they had found, bats screeching at each other, and anole running by in small packs as they chased down some small critter.

Trees waved in the air, their thick branches full of leaves rustling with the breeze, casting the customary deep shadows over the forest floor that earned the Black Shroud its name. The myriad of plant life that thrived in the shadows supported a booming scavenger ecosystem, the small and tasty game spread throughout the Black Shroud as they tried to avoid becoming a larger beast's meal. And for the most part, the larger beasts could easily find enough to survive and thrive too.

But every once in a while, one of those beasts got too big. Became too bold. And some lone traveler disappeared, or was injured, or their remains were found. It was a sign that some culling was needed, that the predators had grown too powerful and threatened the balance of the forest.

In those very same trees that swayed in the breeze, something shifted, something dressed in deep brown, blending in with the bark with a shirt of green like leaves. Crouched and still, like he was, a traveler or an animal would be hard to spot them, and in fact, a little squirrel passed right by him without even giving him a second look.

His bow rested on his lap, an arrow already in hand, his turquoise eyes scanning the forest floor about twenty fulm below him, watching the pattern of tracks carefully, the ziz that stormed by, the anoles that followed in their wake looking for scraps, and then finally, as he watched, he saw it.

The anoles, typically, didn't follow ziz around, the larger creatures more likely to turn and eat the smaller pack animal than leave them be. But when he saw what was following them, he understood why. Sometimes, the protection offered by a larger predator drew the smaller predators to them. Because the Alpha Wolf that followed was on the hunt for something tasty.

Only a soft chitter was given as the squirrel by Kaleh'a darted off as the archer raised his bow, drawing back the string with practiced ease as he watched the thin, lanky wolf stalked by, its whip like tail swaying in the air as it lifted its head, scenting the air, pausing for a moment to search for its prey. All the while, above it, the wooden bow Kaleh'a held stretched taut, arrow nocked, sighted, his breath drawing in...

It turned, looking up-

The arrow released with a small snap as the string slapped against the arm guard the archer wore on his left forearm, feather flights singing through the air as that snarling face turned up to look at the archer above, and the archer stared down his quarry. It was a second, between firing, and when the arrow struck, perfectly, finding the fleshy softness of the wolf's eye and burying itself deep into the skull behind. And a second more as the Alpha Wolf keeled over dead, the snarl permanently fixed on its face as Kaleh'a let out a sigh of relief, a shiver running down his tail.

"Didn't expect it to see me... Well, one down, one to go." After all, each wolf pack had two Alphas to deal with, and if Kaleh'a didn't take care of them, he wasn't sure anyone else would.

Day 13 - Butte

"We have to hold this position."

Storm Sergeant, Second Class Brynhorn Fiske of the Maelstrom stood beside the map as his commanding officer pointed out the different positions of interest on the Cartineau Flats, small black markers denoting the approaching Garlean army, while an array of red, yellow, and blue marked the opposing Eorzea one. It was just one legion, the VIIth legion, but the numbers... The colored markers looked small compared to the darker ones on the other side.

"This, here. We can't let them take our flank." His commander, pointing to a short, flat hill, close enough to rain fire on the advancing left flank of the Eorzea force, and Bryn crossed his arms over his red flame jacket and nodded.

"I see it. But we don't have forces to spare."

"Not in the contemporary sense, we don't." When the seasoned soldier's silver eyes lifted, he understood almost instantly what was being asked of him, and he scowled.

"That's a fool's mission," he growled back, gesturing to the butte. "I would need twice the men I have-"

"I'm not asking you to hold it." His commander cut him off, Bryn's penchant to call out stupid plans well known by this point, and the Storm Captain would be foolish not to listen to him. And they both knew it, which was why the Storm Captain quickly grabbed a marker to denote the scouting group Bryn commanded. "Look, your squad is fast. Quick to get into places, quicker to get out. Not to mention, you are almost all ranged combatants. You would see the enemy coming, rain fire on them, slow them down until you could escape and get us a signal to send reinforcements."

Through it all, the Storm Captain played out the scenario on the map with the markers, and Bryn's expression slowly turned from a scowl of defiance to a scowl of pondering. It wasn't ideal, not by a long shot. But the idea itself... "Alright," the Silver Wolf agreed. "Give me ten to prep my men, and we will move out."

"Perfect. Thank you, Sergeant."

"Thank me with an ale after this fight."

And as the Captain laughed, and Bryn ducked out of the tent, he couldn't help but look up at the looming red moon, and silently pray for his small detachment of soldiers, that their lives would burn bright and strong for years to come.

But the gods were silent, as Dalamud fell, and the butte that Bryn and his men made a stand on was wiped from existence.

Day 14 - Telling

"What gave it away?"

Bryn sat flat on the snow under him, the black and detailed helmet of the Garlean Empire resting next to his black armored legs, so stark compared to the white forest around him. He shared the embankment he was hidden behind with an archer, dressed head to toe in speckled white clothes, pants, boots, long sleeve shirt, jacket, even his hat, all built to blend into their environment and keep them hidden. And given how quickly the blonde Miqo'te had shucked the hat off, he did not like the chosen attire.

"This has to be the ugliest outfit I have ever worn. Period. The end." Kaleh'a grumbled a bit more, before he glanced at Bryn and lifted an eyebrow, registering the question a bit late as he hummed. "Gave what away? You've lost me."

Bryn grunted, silent for a moment, as he carefully checked over his armor. Was something out of place? But the entire thing was just as non-descript and intricate as any common foot soldier of the Garlean Empire, a perfect disguise for his infiltration of a Castrum. Blend in, get in, gather info, get out. And as a Hyur from Ala Mihgo, conscripts from his homeland were common enough. After checking all was in order, he asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"Ohhh! That? That was easy," and the message runner pulled out a piece of smoked lamb jerky and bit into it, leaving the ex-soldier flabbergasted as the Miqo'te seemed perfectly fine with not elaborating. Bryn lasted all of a minute before exasperatedly blurting out again.

"But how?"

Kaleh'a paused his snack fest, and gave the older man a look, shaking his head and shrugging. "Well, first, the mask doesn't really hide your eyes. The silver bleeds through, kinda cool actually. Top that off with your scent - which, by the Twelve do they let you bathe? - and your gait, it was all very telling."

Bryn fell silent for a long moment, and then softly muttered, "I have a tell."

"Huh? No! Not at all!" Kaleh'a laughed, finishing off his jerky and pulling out a letter and handing it to Bryn. "Look, I'm a message runner. I have to recognize who I'm delivering to by sight, sound, voice and scent. Sometimes with just one of those things. Throwing armor over your entire body, hiding your face, and changing the way you talk isn't going to throw me off. Anyone else? Sure! Now, hurry up and take this letter so I can get out of this frozen wasteland."

Bryn snatched the letter from the Miqo'te's hand, his short, nearly buzzed hair starting to ice with his helmet off already, and grumbled some more about Kaleh'a's deductions, reading the letter carefully...and scowling. "Should I ret-"

"They both verbally and explicitly told me to not let you return, and that it was mentioned in the letter." The archer rolled his eyes at the undercover man, and snatched the letter back, shredding it and scattering it in the snow. "Alright, now, I'm gone! Good luck!"

And before Bryn could object, the wily Miqo'te was gone, swinging up into a tree and darting along its branches, leaving Bryn to mutter into the silence, "I have a tell..."

Bryn:

"Creative...outlet?" He seems lost for a second, and then it dawns on him, and he lets out a soft sound of realization. "Writing. I...journal my experiences. At first it wasn't for my own sake, but...it turned into that. So yah. Writing."

Kaleh'a:

He strums his lute, and grins, plucking each string individually and then striking a quick chord. "I mean...I think it's obvious as a bard, but, music! I play, write, and sing! Any requests?"

9/16/24

What is your wol(oc's) creative outlet?

voidtouched-blue--[Previous]

Gods, I hope they invent a less uncomfortable method of travel, she thought. Steadying herself with a short walk to the railing in the Gridania Aetheryte plaza, she took a few deep breaths as she smoothed back her ears. She clasped her staff to its holster on her back using a small gesture of aether to fasten it quickly. Hearing the somewhat familiar padding of footsteps approach from behind her, she spoke without looking. "I'm all right. I just don't travel much by Aetheryte."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He couldn't help the mock gasp that left his lips at her admission of her own wayward tail, his hand covering his lips as he gave her a playful, horrified look. "Not the patients! And here I thought all healers took an oath to do no harm!" He laughed, letting the facade fall to reveal his teasing grin, his hands swinging amicably by his sides as his tail responded in kind, flicking like hers as he regarded the strange, striped appendage. Yes, Miqo'te, but he had yet to see one striped. Of course, staring at another's tail was not the most proper of things to do, so he was quick to avert his gaze before she noticed, his turquoise eyes flicking up to her face just in time to catch her blush.

A cute thing, hidden by little shakes of her head, but nothing could hide her small smile, and he hummed thoughtfully at her words, mulling them over as he walked along beside her, tilting his head after a moment and murmuring, "'What is required of me...'" It was an interesting way to view the world, he supposed. Far different from his own. Albeit in ways similar. He let the moon guide his steps, and acted as he himself wanted, not from a higher calling, or at least not yet. Maybe one day he would, and he would understand what she meant by those words, or maybe he already did know, with his penchant to help those around him. But he couldn't get this nagging feeling out of his head that it was an almost dour way to look at life.

The short hop back to Gridania proper was uneventful for the blonde Miqo'te, the little tingle of aether after his travel making him shiver and grin, only to turn with some concern as he realized his blue haired companion was not doing quite as well as he was. He approached her, his tail nervously flicking as she leaned against the rail and clasped staff to her back, his hand unwittingly travelling to her shoulder as he gently placed it there, his eyes full of worry as he leaned out of the balcony to take a look at her face, her words confirming what he saw. "Cyra, I didn't know you suffered from Aetheryte sickness! I would have hired a Chocobo Porter instead!"

And he really would have, to spare her the feeling of sickness, and himself from having to see her struggle so, his eyes softening. "To think you put up with travelling there and back without so much as a complaint... Come on then, first round is on me! As apology for not noticing sooner. And I can handle the report if you aren't up to it." He didn't particularly want to, not with the reception he had received earlier, but he truly wasn't sure if she could make it more than five steps without keeling over. If there was one thing he knew, you took care of the healer! Besides, he could handle a few suspicious guards.