𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 , 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄.

     #𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐗𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 :   a mutuals-only final fantasy xiv multimuse roleplay side blog to @unmeiha.   open only to mutuals of my main blog ; extremely low activity ; probably heavily headcanon-based / canon-divergent ; iconless ; references to wol in threads with non-wols/npcs will default to my own wol unless otherwise discussed ; will not hesitate to make masc muses friends-only if they receive preferential treatment over femme muses & main blog. ♡   21+ only as nsfw may be present.

i am the prophet with the answers you seek. time, i've unlocked it: i see past and future running free. there is a world where i help you get home—but that's not a world i know. ( what? ) i see a song of past romance, i see the sacrifice of man, i see portrayals of betrayals and a brother's final stand. i see you on the brink of death, i see you draw your final breath. i see a man who gets to make it home alive...

will these actions haunt my days? every man i’ve slain— is the price i pay endless pain? close your eyes and spare yourself the view; how could i hurt you? i'm just a man who's trying to go home, even after all the years away from what i’ve known. i'm just a man who's fighting for his life. deep down i would trade the world to see my son and wife. i'm just a man... but when does a comet become a meteor? when does a candle become a blaze? whеn does a man become a monster? when does a ripple become a tidal wave? when does the reason become the blame? when does a man become a monster?

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𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 ・ @dawnsung

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He doesn't know how long he's been about his task, seeing to the repair and upkeep of his armor and blade. He'd settled into the familiarity of it with an ease akin to breathing: the slide of whetstone across steel, the light scent of oil as it's massaged into his leathers, the deft repetition of pushing and pulling needle and thread as he mends tears in his coat. Tasks he knows he could leave to Tataru to have taken care of, but Thancred appreciates the simplicity of it, of working with his hands, even if the monotony of it gives his mind too much leave for wandering.

And wander it does, as is often the case when he's left to his own devices. It travels its usual route down memory lane, reminding him of all that he's lost, of all his failures. But where he once lingered on those feelings, now he uses them to fuel his determination to push his journey forward. For those he can yet save.

It is an odd thing, however, for the ever-vigilant Thancred to be taken unawares, even while seemingly lost in quiet contemplation. Whether it be that he's slipping in his age or he's simply been taken in by the unusually relaxed atmosphere of the Rising Stones and found himself in a rare moment where he might let his vigilance drop, he isn't certain—though for the sake of his pride, he's happy to err on the side of contentment.

This is how Daithi finds him now: so unusually preoccupied that he doesn't so much as glance at the Viera's movement in his peripheral until he feels lips on his cheek. He jolts in his seat, swiftly lancing the tip of his finger with the needle and thread he'd been so intently focused on. He mumbles a curse under his breath before turning a scowl—albeit a half-hearted one with no heat at all—on his affectionate assailant. He can't hold it for long; a few seconds at best before he huffs out a sigh and the scowl melts away into a crooked smile.

  ❝ Ever given a thought to espionage? I get the feeling you may have a knack for it. ❞

Setting the half-mended coat on the table before him, he leans back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. An audible pop! comes from behind him and he lets out a small groan of relief, suddenly very aware of how much his back aches from too long spent hunched over.