Urianger Augurelt

An independent & highly selective role play blog for Urianger Augurelt from FFXIV, as written by Tenka. This blog will contain spoilers for Shadowbringers. Endwalker spoilers will be tagged accordingly.

As someone who grew up an orphan ( in my headcanon! ), Urianger used to be alone most of the time - not having experienced much of familial or any other kind of platonic love at all in his younger days.

In general, he had nobody he could speak about his feelings with, which also includes how to process them. What resulted out of it was that he'd keep to himself a lot, being a more closed off person when it comes to his own emotions and struggles, finding ways to deal with it alone instead of seeking another. While this got slightly better ever since he befriended Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn - finally having a friend to talk to, Urianger still struggled to open up about his own feelings, not because he didn't trust his friend, but simply because he wasn't used to it and didn't know how to.

And it is shown when he is an adult as well, as he often prefers to shoulder burdens alone, not revealing his plans until the issue is resolved in one way or another. This mindset of having to manage on his own is no doubt the result of his younger days.

Grief in particular is an emotion that is difficult for him to process as he has lost many dear to him in his life ( his family, his teacher Louisoix, his best friend Moenbryda and other comrades in arms ) and he is more used and comfortable to mourn in solitude. Depending on the person, however, he is also fine to be in company of someone who also mourns ( Louisoix with his fellow Circle of Knowing members ), but will eventually still need the solitude to process the feelings.

However, Moenbryda’s passing in particular was likely the worst one for him ( even worse than his own family as that was long ago and he was too young to truly process it ). As she is his first best friend ( and for many, many years the only one ) and also the one he's known for the longest time. Adding to that a mixture of guilt of never having told her the reason why Louisoix asked her to stay behind in Sharlayan, as well as other feelings he only realized after her passing - it all made it very difficult for him to process his feelings properly.

So what he does in this specific situation is that he models a minion ( Wind-Up Moenbryda ) after her and talks to the minion. He is finally able to say everything - to share all the feelings he never did say when she was still alive. He apologized to the minion countless times. He took the minion out on an adventure, because when they were younger, they talked about going on an adventure together, yet he 'left her behind' when he left for Eorzea with Louisoix and the Circle and he never truly liked that, but respected Louisoix' decision and much like his teacher, he too wanted to see her find her own path.

The Scions - small facts had reached his elongated ears on their presence in Ishagrd, of their help towards ending the war he had begun countless years prior. Many wished to tell him of what had occurred over the years and yet Haldrath had largely declined every offer - the bond he had shared with Nidhogg through his millennia of torturous undeath, trapped- he had been shown ample of the occurrences throughout the region. He needed not know more for his heart could not take it. 

“Curiosity ought never be quenched-” Did he utter, rather quietly; appreciating his newfound company’s honesty if naught else. Thus, t’is with a gentle gesture of a hand does he offer for the other to sit upon the side of the bed, should he wish to.

“A miracle-? Perhaps. I, unfortunately, see it as naught more of an extension of my punishment for the atrocities I committed in the past. Condemning my people to a millennia of war is unforgiveable. I believe myself to have been sent back simply to see the suffering I had caused through reckless actions.” Ones commanded by his father, no less, but ones he had adhered to all the same. 

“What is it you would like to know-?” His heart ached to remember, the guilt flourishing ever stronger within his chest. 

Full glad he was when his thirst for answers were readily accepted and he found the male willing to indulge. The offer to take a seat was accepted gratefully - for he did not know how long he’d stay there ( for as long as his company was willing and had the strength ) and thus, he took the empty chair at the side of the bed.

Expression once filled with gratitude and delight was soon replaced by a frown ‘pon words spoken. Truly, in midst of his sheer surprise of the others’ return ( of such a feat possible without the act of necromancy– ) he had all but forsaken thought of the male’s feelings - mention of the Dragonsong War brought devastating images of battle and bloodshed ‘pon his mind; of the hurt and anguish of both dragon and mortals alike. Naught could be offered to excuse the years ‘pon years of conflict and dread the war brought. 

“Forgive my thoughtlessness - I had not considered thy feelings in this … extraordinary situation. The sufferings, the changes and the feelings of a millennia, ‘tis more than any one ought to experience … yet mayhap thou canst see it as more than a punishment, for thou hast been brought back at war’s end and I know nary a better time of need of a great mind, of a soul willing to sacrifice oneself for the rebuilding of a land broken – one which hath bled for too long, now in need of guidance to a better morrow.” There was no excuse for the harm done so many winters prior, yet he was very much alive in the here and now; a chance given to help guide his ancestors to the right path. 

Though all of his impressions of Urianger were that he was not a man fond of physical touch, Lex couldn’t help but lean against his friend. Not only did he need him emotionally, but a hug would be nice too. He just… needed someone.

“There is so much I want to say that I know not where to begin.” Lex’s shoulders heaved with what felt like a decades-old sigh. “I suppose the issue at hand is that I feel like I’m a ticking bomb. I almost turned into a Lightwarden, for gods’ sake, and I’m so, so scared that it could happen again.” Holding up one of his hands, he showed Urianger his alarmingly white and new claws. “This– This is a scar. A scar that can open up at any time. If Raha is taken from me again after we get him back or one of you all is hurt or heavens fortend that I fail to get him back or Ryne dies like pretty much everyone who’s light-haired and related to Minfilia or gods what if Thancred gets possessed by an Ascian again– there’s so, so much that could go wrong and I know not what could trigger a transformation and put everything at risk.”

With shaking hands, he pulled back into himself again as he fought to control his breathing. “I’m scared, my friend. The fact I was this close to becoming a monster shows how weak I am in the grand scheme of things. And… And it did it in front of Raha too– Gods, what if he hates me now or doesn’t want me to save him–” Try as he might, Lex’s rambling continued under his breath, now panicked muttering like a hermit interrupted.

When the other leaned against him, he all but allowed the simple gesture, the touch - in the hopes to ease his sorrows as much as possible, and there he sat, gaze drawn towards the floor afore them as he listened patiently. 

So many worries plagued his mind – so many burdens and thoughts ( many of which directed to those he cared about rather than the Miqo’te himself ) and so much anguish. Urianger shook his head as if in silent disagreement to the fears he expressed; even when the white claws were shown - visible signs of his nigh transformation, of the Light barely contained within his body; like a dam ready to break at any time. 

“Lex.” He finally interrupted his friend as it seemed like he was all but ready to continue his panicked train of thoughts. “Lex, prithee, thou needest to calm down–” A short break, a moment of wait for the other to listen in turn. “Many and more thoughts plague thy mind, my friend. Thy worries art of viable nature, concern for thy loved ones and the nigh endless possibilities of how wrong all could go. Yet I must needs remind thee – thy burden art not thine alone to carry; thou must needs stop indulging in thoughts of such nature, lest it consumeth thee wholly, rendering thy mind weakened and vulnerable. ‘Tis only then that thou hast failed and lost truly, my friend.” 

T’was not often that many would think to pause and listen to the labelled ramblings of the poet; during the expanse of the war, his work had been nigh ignored in favour of pride and strength upon the battlefield - his simple addition to the newspaper weekly only enjoyed by few. Come the end of the war, however, Cyvel had found that more people had turned to poetry and novels for comfort; written words of grief and woe accompanied by hope near devoured by those that had loved and lost during such vulgarity. 

If his words, once considered pathetic, could comfort those seeking it - then he would always be glad to offer and do his best. 

When complements were spoken, however, he could only stand there with a look of utter bewilderment. T’was not often at all that one offered up kindness willingly and into the open, especially in public. 

“I - - yes. T’was an older one of mine-” A softened nod accompanied words, the gentle yet melancholic smile not once leaving his expression - the sadness spanned as far as his eyes, in fact, and those of whom knew the poet a long time knew him always to have been much the same. 

“I’m a poet, in fact - “ Words remained perfectly tender, tone of voice as soft as the freshly fallen snows outdoors; “-one in the most awful writing blocks and thus sought out the cathedral for inspiration.” A pause, scarce the length of a heartbeat; “And you, my friend? Has aught in particular bought you here today?”

He hadn’t missed the look on the poet’s face, which in turn surprised him – he hadn’t said anything odd, had he? Quietly did he wonder if there were some unspoken etiquette in the Holy See of Ishgard, ones he still needed to familiarize himself with. 

However, his thoughts were soon cut short as his company started to speak and his smile widened slightly at the confession, a nod accompanied his acknowledgement ere he stepped in to close the distance, to stand beside the other. The Archon was no poet of course and neither did he require inspiration for any creative work – yet full oft would one be stuck in midst of research nonetheless; a dead end with no answer in sight and mayhap ‘twas a similar predicament? His head shook slightly at his own thoughts, for it mattered not. 

@ancalagxn​ inquired: Casually hands back a book that he had borrowed from the elezen since he finished it.

Leave an object in my ask and my muse will react to it being given to them. || Accepting.

A look of surprise was ‘pon the male’s visage as the book was handed back -- it had not been that long since he had borrowed it and while ‘twas not the first time, it always did surprise Urianger how quick Anca was able to read despite all of the tasks and work he had to finish. 

“Feo Ul’s a wee bit too much for Hiko. He’s too polite to tell ‘em off, though, so he’d rather just avoid. Though honestly if no one watches him, the pixies’ll make him their pet,” Meiko snorted. She gave a dismissive wave, “But m’not surprised ‘bout you gettin’ along with ‘em all. You could make friends with just about anyone, Urianger. S’a good trait to have when we’re oft so embroiled in war and nonsense.”

And even if the pixies were a bit frustrating, Meiko was glad to hear they had helped Urianger through this entire ordeal. Three years. He hadn’t been gone for that long back on the Source! It was still so hard for Meiko to wrap her mind around it.

“Aye, let’s. But first tell me what’s gone wrong with you and Y’shtola.” She was concerned to hear they weren’t on the best of terms anymore.

An understanding nod was offered at A’kihiko’s sentiments towards mentioned pixie – they were not the easiest to be around after all, especially when Meiko was involved. “Thou hast nary to worry about, Meiko– no matter how playful and mischievous pixies are … eventually they’d let him go, and usually before the end of a mortals life–” ‘Twas all but a jest of course, as the pixies were far from unreasonable once they’ve had their share of fun and games and if naught else worked, Urianger still had ways to make them release their newfound friend. 

“Thy words art too kind, my friend, yet I can’t deny that ‘tis easier for me to befriend beings of all nature – many of which are misunderstood due to the lack of the common tongue or the needed patience and willingness to see beyond.” No matter if ‘twas pixies or the amaros in Il Mheg, Urianger found them endearing and more or less reasonable companions in his years of stay, and ‘twas ever true for the other tribes found within the First and the Source alike. All that was needed was a willing and open mind. 

He was leisurely walking beside Meiko, yet felt a moment of hesitation as she brought up his friend. Archon Y’Shtola - one of Master Matoya’s brightest students with exceptional skills in conjury and magicks, one with a sharp mind and even sharper perception, still. ‘Twas no wonder that she would have been the hardest to fool - the moment she lost her vision, it felt like her remaining sense all but blossomed even more and her hunch ( ever true ) was warning of his secrecy, of the lies he was asked to tell once more. And thus, she chose to step into her Masters footstep – seclusion within the very heart of nature, surrounded by people who shared her cause and visions. 

It had not been Lyrian’s intent to fall asleep slouched against his dear companion; no, he had intended to enjoy the comforts offered, and remind himself that such caring tenderness did exist ere turning to his tea. But it seemed the warmth of another, the security of an embrace and a rhythmic pulse within his ear simply had proven too much and his exhausted mind had buckled beneath the sheer solace found.

There is no doubt that the dalish male would apologise profusely come the morrow when both are fresh from rest, but for the time being - in his restful state, did he nestle closer. A hand rose to gingerly rest upon Urianger’s shoulder, a softened grip following behind: as if fearful he would disappear, as if his dainty grip would do aught. He found himself reluctant to open his eyes once consciousness returned: the characteristic aches and pains of a bod well worn greeting him - the stiffness of fingers, the soreness of his back. All ailments he is long used to, but resents them no less. T'is quietly that he sits up, meaning not to wake Urianger given the early hour and after brushing hair from his own eyes does he reach to tuck the blanket more firmly around his company ere stepping towards the outdoors to see just what the weather was doing: as was his routine.

In his near slumber, he felt the soft grip on his shoulder – from Lyrian, no doubt, yet his mind was too tired to register the happenings any longer and he scarcely remembered his own arms wrapped around the other tighter; pulling him closer ever slightly as if there was any need for such, as if he’d otherwise be lost to him.

Naught was remembered as the first strands of sunlight fell ‘pon his resting features, slowly but surely waking him with the sheer brightness alone, yet linger he did, for a moment longer as he enjoyed the warmth embracing him – and a small frown formed ‘pon his forehead at the realization of something amiss. While the blanket and sun served him well, ‘twas the missing body that was so apparent and made the Archon slowly flicker his eyes open; gaze staring at the ceiling. His hand aimlessly searching for his friend beside him; yet to be met with naught more than emptiness and he finally mustered the strength to sit up then. 

Another moment was needed ere he was somewhat awake enough to be of use, for his brain to function as he lazily glanced around: mugs and pot filled with now cold tea, countless of blankets and pillows all centered in the room with him atop – a sleepy smile on his features at the scenery ere he stretched to relax his muscles and soon decided to search for his friend. 

”Ah - the Misery is in for long-needed repairs and thus we are currently grounded in dock.” Not something they could help, one simply had to bite the bullet every now and then and take the sensible option. While the ship would have been perfectly fine to make further voyages without repair, Carvallain liked to keep all perfectly tended to - and kept the safety of his men in mind at all times. 

“We have but recently returned with some herbs and spices from Doma - you are more than welcome to come and take a look, if you wish. They are currently held within our stockroom below-” There is a pause and a smile; “There is far more in there that may just be of interest, too-” 

A nod was offered at the Captain’s words – surely even they needed a break from the seas, yet ‘twas still rare to meet the man himself - not that he was complaining, truly. Urianger had all but thought to drop by on his way to see if there was aught of interest to him and his, unaware of their latest voyage to the east.

“Doma, thou sayest? A most arduous and long journey, I believe, yet no less rewarding for one such as thyself?” The Archon was surprised to hear of their venture to the Far East - ‘twas exactly what he was looking for, after all. While there was naught in particular he was looking for, he had heard of the herbs they used to brew delicious tea and he didn’t have the chance yet to visit the faraway land. Yet ‘twas not the only reason for his curiosity - he thought of finding inspiration for a sword to be forged ere he found a master goldsmith for said craft. Mayhap he could glance at some fine weaponry from Doma as well?

@seatedsacrifice​ inquired: Ophir wasn’t really certain what the Elezen liked in terms of items, but they leave a woodcarving of a bird left for Urianger to find when he next entered his quarters. 

Leave an object in my ask and my muse will react to it being given to them. || Accepting.

The sheer surprise was visible ‘pon his features as he entered his quarters, finding a delicately carved bird out of wood on his desk. Carefully did the Elezen take the carving to inspect it more closely -- the craft was simple, not overly detailed yet the feelings the gift brought ‘pon no less heartwarming. There were not many Scions who would leave him such an item, nay. He would then place the bird atop one of his shelves - next to the collection of his most prized books. 

“Then let us be ever careful you do not fall to the call of sirens, my friend - if you are already mesmerised by the sea-” Though Carvallain could not fault his company for such for he too oft became lost in the glittering expanse of seemingly endless ocean, especially on eves such as that. When the cosmos above was reflected in the briny depths it appeared as if one was sailing among them.

“You ought be fine- a hearty meal oft’ helps as opposed to hinders; t’will likely be when you settle to gain some sleep that the motions shall become more apparent. You shall either sleep akin to an infant or be begging for ginger come the early hours-” For he had been there and he spoke entirely from experience - whatever happened, however, there would be someone on hand to aid as best as they were able. 

“I do rather hope you shall settle in, however- - my crew tend to be more of the welcoming sort than aught else and I do not doubt they shall press you with curious queries.” As he likely would, too. To have someone of perfect intelligence to ask all variety of questions towards was a rarity and Urianger would likely be bombarded ere long.

“Sirens?” A nigh automatic response ‘pon the mention of such beings, as it would be a first for him to meet such; while his travels had him venture far and wide, ‘twas not oft that one would meet the sirens of the seas. Not that he was sure he wanted to, albeit the curiosity was insatiable as usual. “Thou meanest to say that there’s a chance to meet some–?” Urianger was sure that ‘twas smarter to not engage in case they did run into sirens, yet he couldn’t help himself but ask nonetheless. 

“Naught that can be determined ere the time cometh to pass - I shall hope but for the best nevertheless.” Unfamiliar with the travels on sea, he could do naught more than pray that he’d get used to it lest he spent the entirety of their voyage abed - a shame it would be, for ‘twas rare to be traveling with one as apt as Carvallain. An opportunity he didn’t want to miss and waste, for ‘twas also a good chance for him to learn and to expand his knowledge.

@riddlemancer asked:

❛ don’t worry, i’ve got thy back! ❜

There was still so much Maxima had yet to understand on the intricacies of magic- the healing arts, most of all. How a simple spell could weave the flesh back together, or bring a man back from the brink of death. He stared dumbfounded at the strands of aether working its way through his body, mending a medium-sized cut to his side he had sustained while trying to keep a tempered soldier away from the perimeter of the camp while on patrol.

He had managed to subdue them with the help of Urianger, but not before the man had struck him with transformed claws that tore a decent way through his overcoat- It would need mending once he had a moment to spare.

Using the Elezen’s arm as leverage, he hauled himself back to his feet.

“Many thanks, Urianger. I’d be done for if you weren’t watching it.” Maxima grimaced as his cut stung as he moved, and would definitely leave a scar, but at the very least, he was no longer in danger of bleeding to death.

“Looks like this one was a straggler, I don’t see any others coming. We should be heading back, nightfall is upon us. Should be some hot soup left if we hurry.”

The Archon was wandering around the camp when he saw the other fighting from afar, quick to close the distance to offer aid, yet to his dismay, he had been too late -- watched as Maxima was struck and staggered slightly ere he arrived at the scene; casting spell after spell to assist his friend and ‘twas not long until their foe was bested. 

A shake of a head, a smile as he helped the male up on his feet again; offering support if ‘twas required. “Nary a word of gratitude is required, my friend. Saddened though I am to have arrived belated, resulting in thine injury otherwise avoidable.” Naught to be done now and at the very least, it had not been anything grave - he was sure to recover fully with but a few nights of rest.

“Thine assumption art likely accurate, but let’s not lower our guard ‘till the camp -- caution hath ever been advised and served useful. But aye, let us return anon, lest we miss our supper.” He would not want to be ambushed or caught unaware while his friend was still injured, and while they were not too far from camp, he didn’t want to risk anything. 

at the mention of the syndicate,  a dark expression over his feature briefly marring the cheer,  his brows furrowing as the now familiar anger curls inside his belly.  he still cannot believe that anyone,  least of all one of the nations the scions sought to protect from primal influence,  would mount such a betrayal  ━ but then, he supposes,  he has never truly understood why people let greed and power influence so many things.  that it left master alphinaud so deeply devastated  ━ that it left his dearest friend grappling with such grief and helplessness after having watched their friends sacrifice themselves for their safety when none of it should have happened  ━ and now, watching the same pain quietly hidden in urianger’s features when he speaks ‘pon it. 

he wishes not to impede on the hope that they yet live.  no,  he wishes so hard to believe it as well, for he knows how much joy it would bring to the very people he has come to consider something akin to family himself.  

“ i will endeavor to give you all the resources at our disposal to help you,  “ he informs urianger, pushing down the emotion to focus back on the present. hashing up things that have already happened will do neither of them any good.  “ and i may even come along on your sojourns whenever time allows.  we tend to send scouting parties out at intervals,  to ensure no new wyvern’s nest spawn on locations where we last rooted them out. there is safety in numbers, especially around these lands. “  and none new the beasts nor the signs of the ever changeable weather better than those living in coerthas. 

a smile forms on his lips, dispelling any sign of earlier ire and haurchefant claps his hands together with enthusiasm.  “ as for that,  i would be more than ready to show you around the site, my friend. we can start with showing you to your potential chambers for the duration of your stay and have the cooks bring us some supper.  i can imagine you must be hungry. “

Urianger watched as his expression changed momentarily, yet did not find it in himself to comment any further; his gaze drifting off towards the hearth instead – there was naught more to be said nor done, for ‘twas in the past now and naught they said could change history, change the course the Scions were on. Despite his own turmoil ( his visage barely showing any of the doubt ), he was certain that they would be able to pass this trial as they had so oft in the past. He just had to find them.

“The offer ‘s more than appreciated - only a fool would venture alone past the snowy mountains, and unfamiliar with the land and weather as I am, I’d likely end up a beast’s meal ere I find any answers.” A pause. “... and thy company would be most welcomed, Lord Haurchefant, yet I would not want to rob thee of thy precious time - full sure am I that thou hast more pressing matters to attend to.” Yet he would be more than happy to have the other’s company, truly – curiosity of the other Elezen was soon present and Urianger found himself wondering about his host instead; eager to get to know him better if time allowed.

Another sip was taken then; his hands comfortably resting against the mug as his gaze turned towards Haurchefant once more at the sound of clapping hands. “A good place to start, aye, and thou art not wrong in thy assumptions -- supper and rest thereafter are certainly welcomed … it hath been a long day after all.” One he had himself to blame, really, but that mattered little as he felt naught but exhaustion creeping into his bones; now that he was warmed up once more, the fatigue seeped in, and if not for the hunger he felt, he may have passed out then and there. 

@riddlemancer liked this post for a starter!

❝Good morning, ser.❞ Taking a break from riding in the caraven, Tiaxix was walking alongside with their chocobo that would promptly ignore the newcomer as though he didn’t seem to consider the new one as a threat. They just happened to come across the other along the travels. ❝I hope the day is finding you well.❞

He had been walking leisurely, now that there was naught to do and he had parted ways with his friend momentarily, seeking some tome he had heard of -- no doubt a myth, but who was he to ever ignore the siren call of tales yet untold? ‘Twas the sound of wheels across floor, the familiar sound of chocobos that the Archon first noticed, signaling him to turn to find his new company approaching faster than he had perceived.