Pursue, unwavering

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Reticent

Timeline: Pre-1.0, Encyclopedia Eorzea 3 spoilers I guess? is that a thing?

The Augurelts have agreed to transfer the care of their quiet young son over to the neighboring family, but adjusting is taking a little time.

i need everyone to consider vivienne and dorian bonding over taking care of the inquisitor after the end of dragon age inquisition as the mark progressively gets worse and worse. vivienne with her past of watching bastien get sicker and sicker and dorian doing the same with felix, and seeing it repeat with the inquisitor. take my hand 🖐,,

now why would you say this to me

“Mask of Melpomene”

“Mask of Thalia” (Sorry for the reupload! I messed up some ordering so might aswell reupload everything together)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Azem/Venat (Final Fantasy XIV) Characters: Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Venat (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), The Watcher (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Angst, Endwalker Spoilers, Canonical Character Death Summary:

In the final hour before everything changes forever, Venat and Azem meet one last time. Venat has told her everything she needs to know about the future - but there’s a lot she didn’t need to know.

Discovered That Place is still accessible in Ultima Thule after the MSQ. Many feels for Rigel.

It seemed to take me forever to finally finish this. In fact, originally there was only the first part of the picture - I wanted to draw something cute and positive.... and I can't really say at what point it went wrong. 😅

OKAY YEAH

Dec 03: Losing Something/Someone Very Important.

Word Count: 611 Summary: A peek into Fynta’s past, the day she became clanless.  A/N: I put the Mando’a translations under the cut since I used more than usual in this one.

Fynta’s knees gave, and she slid to the floor with her head resting against the pilot’s seat of Verin’s can’gal. He’d scraped enough money together last year to purchase the starfighter, but had yet to name it. Her brother claimed that a name had to mean something, and he wouldn’t take that responsibility lightly. A broken sob escaped Fynta’s lips when she realized that her name meant nothing now.  

Verin rushed past after securing the docking ramp and slid into the only seat available on the small craft. His movement bumped the back of Fynta’s skull, but she barely noticed. Even as the engines revved, vibrating the floor beneath her, all Fynta could focus on was the blood splashed across her new beskar’gam. Her father’s blood.

Fynta removed a glove and scratched absently at the now flaky bits of red. She was thirteen, and had just passed her verd’gotten three weeks ago. Now, she was clanless and had joined the ranks of orphans scattered throughout the galaxy. Fynta knew that she was too young to understand the politics of what had just happened, but old enough to understand that she couldn’t go back. Resignation hollowed her emotions, and she didn’t want it to stop.

Suddenly, Verin’s face filled Fynta’s view. Placing both hands, cold and clammy, on her cheeks, he repeated the same phrase. It took her a few seconds to meet her brother’s eyes, and even longer to focus.

“Fynta, say something, damn you.” She’d just interpreted their meaning when his hand struck the side of her face. It wasn’t hard, but enough to ignite her temper.

Fynta shoved her brother away with an angry slur, and Verin’s features relaxed. “Thank the Manda, I thought you’d gone r’utreekov.” He inched forward again, squatting in front of her. “Are you injured?” Fynta leveled him with a murderous glare, then sighed and shook her head. “Just bumps and bruises.”

With a thick exhale, Verin looked around the interior. “We’ll have to dump this soon, they know my ship.” While Mandalorians didn’t cling to worldly possessions like the rest of the galaxy, there was no mistaking the sense of loss in Verin’s voice. He’d worked hard for this starfighter, and had proven himself an apt pilot. Were it not for the unexpected massacre, Fynta was sure her brother would have ended up one of the Mand’alor’s best pilots.

Verin hesitated, staring straight ahead. “It’s just us now, you know that, right?”

Fynta closed her eyes, her father’s unseeing stare jumping to the forefront of her vision, then snapped them open again. She wanted to know why her clan had been attacked at a celebration of victory, but knew the answer wouldn’t satisfy her. Fynta allowed only one emotion to leak through the walls she carefully constructed around her heart: rage. She wanted the traitor’s blood to replace that of her buirbe.

“We need new identities,” Fynta responded, her voice muted in her own ears. There was no way of knowing how far into their clan this treachery stretched, it was beneath her people to act in such a way. “I want to hunt them down, Verin.” She turned towards her brother, only just noticing the cuts along the bridge of his nose and forehead where his helmet had struck unyielding flesh during the fight. “Will you help me?”

To Fynta’s surprise, Verin chuckled. “Skira,” he replied with a smile. That word lit a fire inside of Fynta like she hadn’t felt before. Never again would the galaxy catch her unawares, she’d be ready next time.

Standing, Verin offered Fynta a hand. “Come on, little wolf. Your first lesson it learning how to fly.”

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