#ffxivwrite2019

FFXIV Write 2021 entry, prompt #1 “Foster.”

The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor “Fetch and Carry.”

“Boredom is the birthmother of frivolity. Given enough time a sufficiently unengaged people will give rise to the same trinkets and distractions and the craft which makes them possible.”

-Ossmira Miegs, “Technospectives.”

Ches sifted her way through the dirt with a soft brush from her kit until reaching solidly packed soil, hardened for a millenia or longer. She replaced the brush to her leather dig kit and withdrew a small rock hammer. The head was new to the handle, made of pure Mythril from the east. It was a gift of sorts from a close associate who was bound to a pack of private mariner soldiers for hire. There was as story, even a song about the broken hammer heads his kindred. They were foster children to a venerated woman named Mother Maxwell. Not unlike herself.

The hammer made short work of the condensed dirt and after further work she came upon her quarry. Drawing it from a pocket of soil, which had produced a form fitting pocket that protected it for until she found it, she packed her kit and wrapped the strange object in an oil rag and deposited it in her long leather duster. Satisfied her work was done, she adjusted the rim of her leather fedora, turned and spied a ring of men in the hall between her and the exit. “Chocopoo.” she muttered.

Baxter Twinkinryker IV, “The Quad,” as his kindred Lalafel dubbed him, favored a tweed jacket with leather elbow pads and a rust hued fedora favored by his compatriots. His broom like mustache was not common but seemed to complete the quasi academic look he favored.

He awaited Ches’ returned quietly outside the archway to the ruins. The fat chocobo he rented from the keeper in Ul’Dah cooed and pecked upward at the bait at the end stick riders would use to direct it along, hoping for a random bite.

At last the rapid footfalls from within the entrance faded as Ches came in a tremendous rush out of it. As she passed him and began to mount the Chocobo he asked, “Was it there? Did you get it there?”

Day 8 for MiqoMarch: Formal  I’m going to link, and copy and paste a prompt I wrote for FFXIVWrite2019 for this one because... I finally have crime and could screenshot it semi-properly.  (I had to glove the boy, because his crystal arm/hand is tied to his robe, and I needed/wanted the tail damnit)

Hesitation is found Here originally.

   Crowds filled the Musica Universalis as the residents celebrated the defeat of the Lightwardens, this time at the two month anniversary of the Exarch and the Scions returning to the Crystarium after the battle in the Tempest.  Karoiseka walked alongside the Exarch observing the festivities and happiness that permeated the atmosphere of the dome.  She could feel how close he was, their shoulders almost brushing, as they stole glances at each other, ears flickering.  Their red and black tails as well as shy hands reached for each other time and again, never quite touching before swinging apart again with flushed cheeks as they turned away from each other quickly.  The two had only recently acknowledged their feelings for each other privately, the celebration being the first public event since.

   Karo knew that it was only a matter of time before the entire Crystarium knew, but she still hesitated.  She had faced Primals, Lightwardens, Asciens and more, yet, this simple gesture made her heart beat as fast as any battle she had been in.  Glancing over at G’raha Tia once more, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she watched his ruby eyes light up as he talked to the young healer from Fort Jobb.  His long red locks fell into his face as he talked, and Karo felt her heart swell. He had waited decades to even see her again, where it had been a scant couple of years for her.  Why should we hide? We’re happy, and might not have all the time we want, but we have here and now.

    Finally grounded, she shifted just slightly to finally capture his hand in hers, their tails automatically mimicking their clasp hands. His words stumbled as his face flushed, but he soldiered through his sentence before turning towards her with a dazzling smile.  G'raha lifted their joined hands, placing a delicate kiss on the Bard’s knuckles before squeezing her hand and continuing to hold it between them. His ears flicked with joy as he continued his conversation, obviously distracted at this point. Neither of them saw the residents of the dome slowly take notice, nudging each other and not quite whispering their glee.  Just as the healer was called away from their chat hands landed on both Miqo'te’s outside shoulders, and a silver haired head leaned down between their startled faces.

    "About time…" is all Lyna said with a mischievous grin before heading up the stairs to the Winding Stairs. The Exarch chuckled softly as he watched his ward walk away, glad that she approved.  A soft whisper escaped his lips as they started to meander once more, this time hand in hand as one.

    "Yes, yes it is…"

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge SEPTEMBER 1st - 30th, 2019

Welcome to YEAR 3 of our annual FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge, folks!

In 2017 we saw 2,451 written pieces ranging from three-lined haikus to multi-paged stories. 2018 ramped up even more with 3,641 written pieces! 

We are a merry band of prolific writers, FFxiv RP community, and I couldn't be prouder of our willingness to challenge ourselves creatively, using our RP craft as inspiration. Let’s see how we do in 2019!

Here’s the gist:

Runs from September 1st - 30th, 2019. During that timeframe:

Visit @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ once a day at 12:00pm (noon) PST for the prompt of the day. All prompts will be one word or brief phrase that you can interpret however you please.

You have 24 hours to write something for that prompt.

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/EJV82Wh85BZpwaFa9  – Tumblr has been hiding @ mentions from my dash which means that I’m missing so many of your entries. :( Submitting a link to your post via this Form will ensure that everyone’s posts are seen and tracked! Please help me, haha. Tag @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ in your post, and use the hashtag #FFxivWrite2019.

There are no length or skill requirements (short & sweet is fine!).

There will be no 24-hour deadlines for the first week, September 1st - 7th.

Makeup/extra credit days every Sunday.

Every entry posted within its 24-hour deadline will count toward a participation prize raffle at the end.

You can join any time - late entries are welcome! They simply won’t count toward participation prizes - unless submitted on a makeup day.

If you’re an artist and you would like to volunteer to do a simple black & white illustration as a participation prize at the end of this challenge, please let me know!

RULES & MORE INFO below the cut~

((cw: blood))

The chrysalis was warm, pleasantly so. It almost didn’t want to leave -- yet in order to escape the prison man had so painstakingly constructed for it, leaving the comfortable warmth was a necessity. Perhaps outside it would be warmer, more pleasant. There was a light pressure upon the fleshy wrap that surrounded it; muffled sounds, wild aether cast about like spilled wheat. A feast, if anything. It could feel its host dwindle in number -- that wild aether the result of fevered battle. There was no time to waste. 

The flesh tore, and a great deluge of red spilled forth onto the already blood-slicked stone road. The clamor of battle rose from a muffle to a roar, and red light burned down from a damned sky. The scattered aether was delicious, and it instantly partook of it without shame or hesitation. Who would deny such a feast? Unlike the traces it had sipped on during its long stay in its pupal stages, however, this aether would not influence its form. Not like the Hellsguard who dared to command it had. Not like the Hyur who had dared to touch its mind had. Not like the hyur it had supped so greedily on had. Not like the Miqo’te who sought to play its master had. Not like the Miqo’te who had touched its essence had. 

It was grateful to them all, for without them, it would not have perceived how to make its flesh -- flesh that stood in the middle of the road, soaked in red and still draining above the slick remains of its own womb. It stood tall and powerful as a Hellsguard in stature, strapping and muscular with skin like red clay. Granted, its skin was not quite visible under the coating of dripping blood. The Hellsguard’s influence ended just at the end of its thick neck, upon which a hyur’s head was awkwardly perched. It was a worn, midlander sort, smoothened by a red film. Thick crimson dripped from what would have been a blond beard. Large, bright blue eyes peered about, eyes that seemed a bit ill-fitted to the head’s bone structure, and perhaps just a tad too large for its face. The mouth was of a similar, oddly placed quality, a tad too small, with the definite and subtle placings of a Miqo’te. Even more curious were the hair and ears -- the hair was brown, in comparison to the blond beard, and from them pricked up a pair of Miqo’te ears that didn’t seem to have cared that there were already a pair of hyuran ears on the sides of its head. 

There it stood, an agglomeration of those who had recently touched it, a macabre tribute to the contributions of those who would see it free. A monument; a memorial. Ever would their image live on in it, for the time had come for their flesh to pass. It did not draw breath, for its lungs were full of blood. It did not hunger, for its belly was heavy and sloshing, and the aether around it provided much. It did not lust, what was placed between its legs was of no consequence. It did, however, wish to kill -- and as its malice extended to connect to every heart and brain around it, its bloody dirge spelled itself out in a circle of glowing symbols at its feet. To the eye of anyone who knew, the symbols were spelled out clearly.

Racing hearts feed rushing minds, and from such heavy bounty I sup.

"Ooooh! As I thought, they fit you perfectly!"

The short, stocky huyran woman buzzed around the Viera, the sudden tug on the waist making them flinch slightly as she adjusted the sash wrapped around it. She hummed softly to herself, a cheerful lilt in her voice as she gave her new customer an appraising eye, only making the tall fledgling even more tense under the staring.

Fymh still wasn't sure just how they had got themselves into this situation. Just a moment ago they had carefully entered through the door, just to look around the shop in search of something to replace their usual attire with, as the more tribal outfit had been a little too alarming for possible job givers. And, before they had had a chance to speak, they had been whisked away. The never ending stream of cheerful, excited words had echoed through the one long ear and out the other as the huyr had ushered them into one of the changing rooms, with a pile of clothing in their arms.

"Yes! Yes, this is it! The simple, dark tones with a hint of blue, not too showy in design, but still clean and functional. Shirts like these are very popular with adventurers nowadays, you know?"

Functional, that was something the viera had to disagree with. Perhaps the long, loose sleeves were comfortable and kept one warm in most weathers, but they could already feel the cloth pulling and tugging against their shoulders, restricting every movement. How did people fight in these?

"Ahh, they work perfectly with that wild, handsome look of yours too! Those sharp features, that slight frown, the tall, strong but slender frame...I'm sure you've made plenty of gals swoon in your time, hmmm?"

Too close. She was standing too close. The hands idly, but curiously patting their waist and shoulders made Fymh's head spin, only soft, stammering murmurs escaping their lips, unsure whether to agree or disagree. They wanted to retreat into their mask, out of here, out of the city, and up the nearest tree. At this point any tree would've been fine. As long as it was tall enough to completely disappear into.

"Oh! You agree, yes? Then you will take the whole set, right?"

Their mismatched hues could barely hold contact with those eager eyes trying to catch them, the viera's head finally dipping into a slight, timid nod of resignation.

FFxivWrite2019 Participation Prize

For the super great @onwesterlywinds of the adventurous, quite possibly headstrong Ahtyn of Balmung. Looks like Feo Ul is having a hard time with her. 

I was really amused with the entry this piece is based on, and you can read it here.

FFXIVWrite2019 Participation Prize