Success / Sin ( @daily-writing-challenge @kthalentia )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Steven Lynn - Main Theme

U'tova and Aurant had camped out on this cliff for half a dozen bells, waiting for the searing Thanalan sun to stop pounding on the badlands and disappear beneath the horizon to rest. As the sun dropped, so too did the temperature, with the sweltering heat giving way to the bitter cold. Why anyone would willingly live in such an extreme place is something the Ishgardian could never understand– but to Tova, this place was home.

Aurant had spent his nights in the warmth of seedy taverns that he never learned the golden rule of Thanalan, but he was learning it now. The night chill cut through his light clothes like a hot knife through butter, and it was particularly windy all the way up here from their vantage point. U’tova, on the other hand, simply draped her tail over her legs to block out the wind, with a collar stuffed with chocobo down to keep the cold from creeping down her neck. Her green gaze held a golden glow in the dark, allowing her to see much farther than the Elezen could– even if wasn’t missing an eye. With just a smidgen of moonlight her vision was sharper now than it was midday, and making her the perfect candidate for this trial.

“I see someone…” She whispered, catching his attention. He shuffled forward on the ground to lay beside her, but he couldn’t see anything himself. 

“Describe them.”

“Short black hair. Hyur. Kind of stocky.”

“Scar on his face?”

U’tova inhaled sharply as she focused. He was walking with a chocobo behind him but he turned at just the right angle all the same. “Starts near his lips and goes all the way past his ear.”

“That’s Tigrund Waterstep all right.” Aurant glanced over at the Miqo’te beside him, almost tempted to ask if he could use her tail to help fight off this brutal wind. “Be a dear and take the shot, won’t you? And avoid a headshot… or he won’t be recognizable.” U’tova clenched her jaw as she prepared to take his life. She pulled back the bolt and slid the round into the chamber, flicked the safety of her rifle off, pressed it against her shoulder and took aim.

“Wait…” She muttered, feeling her heart run cold. Behind Tigrund atop of the chocobo was another person– this one considerably smaller. “There’s a child with him… a boy…”

“Don’t shoot the boy. Old Tigrund is the only one that needs to taste some dust tonight.” Aurant replied, seemingly trying to half-bury himself in the warm dirt. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if this was more of his dry Ishgardian wit, but if he was joking he would usually admit it shortly after. “Tova…? You have a clear shot, don’t you?”

“I do but…-” 

“Tigrund is a Black Adder. Wanted for armed robbery, murder, arson, and kidnapping.” He even consulted the bounty note he was using to help warm up his chest. “He helped kill a lot of good people and he’s part of the reason why I have to wear an eye-patch. The bounty on his head is fifty million.” He paused to let that sink in– if only for a moment. “You wanted to join us… this is what we do. We kill Black Adders and turn in their corpses for gil. If anything you’ll be doing the boy a favor by getting that monster of a father out of his life so get your smallclothes untwisted and take the bloody shot!”

U’tova could feel her heart racing– all she could think about was the devastation that boy would endure. Someone killed her mother in a similar fashion, cut down in front of her adoring husband and seven summer old daughter; setting both on a course from which they could not veer from. Yet her mother was not a criminal. She wasn’t wanted for murder, for kidnapping, for armed robbery– none of it. She was just a humble merchant madly in love with a cranky gunsmith.

Her mouth was dry when she took aim. Her ears flattened against her head to help block out the sound, and she closed an eye to better line up the shot without distractions. All it took was a gentle squeeze of the trigger and a handful of heartbeats.

BLAM! 

A cup of dust kicked up from the other side of the man, with the startled chocobo flailing from the sudden sound echoing down the valley. Tigrund took three shaky steps forward as he rubbed at his chest, but he didn’t even have time to look down at the blood soaking his fingers before he collapsed into the dirt.

“Papa…?” The boy asked after getting the bird under control. He jumped off the saddle and ran toward his father, still in shock over what just happened. “Papa…?! PAPA!”

“A clean hit.” Aurant sighed, before pushing himself up to his feet. “Stay here… I’ll get the body.”

Party / Chills ( @daily-writing-challenge @corohveldha )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Clannad - Her and the Sea

Coroh was running ragged.

She had been up since the late afternoon of yesterday making miracle after miracle in the Heartwood Kitchen. The occasional taste-tester would come downstairs every now and then, enthralled by the aromas wafting through the rest of the estate, but she refused any and all help. The free company had been through the wringer these past few moons, both the people living and fighting under this roof and the building itself; cooking for them was the least she could do.

A plump dodo was drained and de-feathered, powdered with spices and drenched in sauces, and now it sat glistening in one of the many ovens at her disposal– the savory flesh would remain crispy but the meat underneath would be so tender it would slide right off the bone. The freshly hunted boar was too large for any one oven, forcing Coroh to roast the heavy beast over a bonfire outside and bring it down into the kitchen to marinate in her coveted honey glaze, piece by succulent piece. Juicy blood sausages hissed and sizzled on their racks, made fresh by hand from Shroud boar, butterbeef, and aldgoat. Ala Mhigan gumbo sat bubbling in a heavy iron pot on the stove, with soft carrots, savory beef, and hearty red popotoes swirling in the mesmerizing brown broth. She even made a crisp salad from island cabbages she bought fresh from the Gridanian markets– with thick Black Shroud mushrooms roasted over an open flame and covered in tinfoil to keep their savory texture and warmth. Well over a dozen pies of ogre pumpkin, sweet popoto, rolanberry, and honey lemon sat cooling on the bar countertops, far and away out of reach of any mischievous children and curious Lalafell alike.

Coroh was finishing up the drinks for the party, mixing fruits of all flavors with crushed ice and salted glasses. They didn’t have much for wine after the rebuilding of the estate, but they had plenty of vodka– with a bottle of cactuar tequila they would surely use for a drinking contest later. She only had a bell or two before they started shuffling in– and her time spent toiling in this place would be displayed for all to see. Make no mistake, she intended to assert her culinary dominance. She was already the greatest culinarian in Heartwood but it was never enough; she needed to be the greatest culinarian. Period.

She blinked as she stared at the pot of gumbo, suddenly missing her babies. Her firstborn Nolas was difficult to spend quality time with since she was nocturnal and he wasn’t, but her daughter Avanta was active for almost as long as she was. She wanted to hold them, to hug them, to kiss them. She wanted to make them feel happy and safe, especially with the chaos they’ve all been through just a few weeks ago. 

Hopefully the Starlight Celebration will be far more peaceful and relaxing.

Dream / Sting ( @daily-writing-challenge @kthalentia @corohveldha )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Space Banjo - Cosmic Wanderer

K’thalen sat in the pavilion outside the Veldha Estate, tuning up an old banjo he had found in storage a bell before. Thunder boomed in the distance, faint but growing louder every time the rolling clouds growled at each other, which only meant it would begin to rain soon; and out here in the Black Shroud, when it rained it poured.

People were laughing and talking and feasting inside, but K’thalen preferred it out here by himself. He hates crowds– always has. They make him anxious and terribly uncomfortable for as long as he can remember. Silence is his safety, solitude, his serenity. Perhaps that's why he can never seem to settle down with a woman and start his own family, even though he has women in his life that would jump at the chance. He's kept his guard up for so long he doesn't remember how to lower them back down again. A part of him was envious of people like Leo and Coroh; it must certainly be nice to have a happily ever after.

He heard the front door open but he was too busy tuning his guitar to pay it any real attention. Yet as he began to pluck the strings, the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet stepping across the yard drew his eyes to his left, and down. Staring up at him with eyes the size of dinner plates was Leo’s boy, wrapped snugly in a thick blanket that was dragging along the grass behind him. His tiny lips stained from his supper, most likely something easy for him to eat yet still messy, like spaghetti. He was still young enough to think tilting his head side to side would help him listen to unfamiliar sounds… K’thalen certainly remembers when he used to do the very same. Or perhaps it was a learned behavior for him since he has been partially raised by lalafells.

“Hiii…” He softly mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a small fist. K'thalen didn't really know how to talk to such a young boy, but he knew he had to be careful; anything he said might be repeated in front of his parents, and the last thing he wanted was to suffer the wrath of his mother.

He took a quick breath before offering him a half smile and a “Howdy.”

“Can I sit down?” Nolas timidly asked.

“This here’s yer home, lil’man.” K’thalen answered, scooting over. “Ya can sit wherever ya like.” He heard no argument from the boy, who shuffled over to the bench beside him and set his sippy cup down, then his stuffed hrothgar plushie, and finally his wooden sword along the bench before clambering up it himself.

“My name is Nolas.” He stated while making himself comfortable. “I am thirteen moons old.”

“I’m K’thalen. N’I’m thirty-two summers old.”

“You’re really old…!”

K’thalen couldn’t help but chuckle. Most folks would get upset from that, but not him– he wore his age with pride. Most Tia never make it past their twenty fifth summer anyroad. 

“Mom told me you know a person named Nolas too.” He continued, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. K’thalen stopped plucking at the instrument but only for a few moments; he still couldn’t believe Coroh decided to honor him by naming her son after his brother.

“Aye… I did. He was me only family.”

“Was he nice…?”

A pained smile flashed across his face as he was brought back to the days when he was barely bigger than this curious little boy. “He was… stern. Carin’. We uhhh… looked out fer each other most days. Spent a lot of time together, aye? But one day…” He had to stop himself mid-sentence– he didn’t know if the boy had a concept of death yet or not. “One day he had to go away…”

“Do you miss him…?” Asked Nolas, leaning forward to gaze up into his eyes.

“Every day.”

“Will I meet him?”

“One day, lil’man. One day…”

Nolas didn’t ask anymore questions once he started playing the banjo again. All around them came the soft patter of raindrops striking the wooden pavilion and the grass, but neither of them seemed to notice; the boy was entranced by the music, and the man was just trying to focus on playing. Yet his mind wandered.

He was there when the boy was born. Pacing back and forth with Augusta outside of the clinic, he had never heard Coroh scream so loudly; when the screaming stopped, and they peeked in to check to make sure everything was okay, he was the third person to hold the baby. Nolas was barely the size of his hand then, but he was still loud enough to hurt his ears while he wailed and cried. Seeing him now, just over a year later, almost brought a tear to his eye. The boy was falling asleep with a full stomach, and slumped over to rest on his leg barely a few minutes into the song. 

He was a good kid, at least K’thalen hoped so. Seeing him wrapped in his blanket with his sippy cup in his lap was enough to make a grown man cry. Perhaps once his business with the Black Adders was over he could settle down and start a family; the prospect of having a son of his own was tempting enough… but was it the right choice? Broken people making broken people was not his intention, but he felt a little selfish believing he could potentially do better. The idea of a K’thalen Jr. around to teach how to fish, or how to step dance, was almost enough to make this cowboy want a son for himself.

Expectation / Selfish ( @daily-writing-challenge @zoronadotatanado )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Andrey Vinogradov - Reverse Dance 

The servants were just finishing up Princess Leleni’s morning routine. They washed and combed her hair until it shimmered like gold and flowed like wheat against the wind. Lotion was carefully rubbed into her round cheeks, her tiny nails were filed down and painted red, and the soles of her feet were rubbed and exfoliated until they were as soft as a baby's backside. She kept her eyes closed when they plucked and shaped her eyebrows, and kept quiet when they brushed her pointy white teeth. For most mornings it would be a time to unwind and relax with a dozen or two books from the castle library until supper, but this was not like most mornings; not for her nor anyone else.

“Milady,” softly called a servant when she peeked through the door. “He is ready to meet you.”

The princess rose from her seat and stretched her stubby arms out to each side. Her flowing silk gown was slipped over her hands and tied along her lower back, with her maiden cowl draped over her head; finally her five-pointed tiara was placed upon her crown to keep her cowl from slipping. When she opened her eyes again, she peered through the slits that concealed her beauty, and with a racing heart she waited for her servants to open the door so she may take her leave.

Today was the day she would meet her betrothed. Her father the king spoke highly of his accomplishments, and her mother the queen mentioned his talents once or twice, but neither of them gave her any details lest she turn her nose up at the prospect and start to fuss. Leleni was a difficult woman to love– she knew it, her parents knew it, everyone knew it; the last arrangement ended in disaster when Prince Gogotago made a joke at her expense, and in response she tossed a glass of wine onto his face, staining his favorite coat. A woman of lesser birth would have ended up in the dungeons for that, but because she was Kol'dini royalty all he could do was flail about and curse obscenely. Begrudgingly the marriage was called off, and King Fafasasho decided it would be best to wait a few more summers until trying with someone else again. As angry as he was, even he could understand– she inherited his temper after all. 

Princes were in short supply in the Southern Isles. All the eligible men were either arranged for marriage by two kingdoms shortly after birth, already married and waiting to take the throne with their wives, or refused to risk Leleni’s wrath and scornful nature. She wanted to make her parents, her kingdom proud… but she was picky– far more than she had any right to be. Even her little sister was already betrothed to the prince of Yuw'nal, and their first meeting showed great promise; yet both were under ten summers old, so that alliance wouldn't be solidified for another half decade at the very least. Perhaps a prince was not in the cards for this princess… perhaps her father had someone else in mind. 

Her heart fluttered at the possibilities. If her father was just trying to get rid of her then she could be arranged to just about anyone with enough status. Maybe this mysterious man was a renowned sailor, or a captain of a worthy vessel! Spending her life on the sea would be a dream come true, but Leleni was not so naive to think that would be realistic; still, living in ports while her husband sailed wouldn't be such a terrible thing. Some of her father's Bulwark Knights have recently retired after forty summers of service. He would be old, and battle-hardened, and even a bit grumpy, but there are no men on these islands or beyond with more honor than them; tending to a true knight, scarred and weary from countless battles would be an ideal life. Yes… it had to be one of Father's knights! The servants at the other end of the hallway opened the door and lifted away the curtains, allowing her to enter the audience chamber. Leleni stepped inside, fully intending to give off as much graceful elegance as she could muster.

Her betrothed fumbled with a ceremonial saber upon her entry, anxiously dropping it and kicking it under the nearby desk before whipping around to face her. He was a mouse of a man, with short hair as green as woodland moss, and he was Plainsfolk with bright silver eyes that– unlike Leleni and the majority of the Kol’dini people– had clear and visible irises. Not an ugly man by any means, until Leleni noticed the wispy whiskers growing across his upper lip; he had not yet fully grown a respectable mustache but that clearly wasn't stopping him from trying. Nervously he bowed after clearing his dry throat, and she in return gave him a most elegant curtsey. 

“Lady Leleni Nar Leni, Princess of Kol'din…” The man said, undoubtedly practicing it while he waited for her to be summoned. “I am Lord Nonobira Vem Rarabira. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” She retorted, also rehearsed. He had no scars so he surely wasn't a knight, and the heavy rings covering his fingers foretold his immense wealth but little else. Yet she couldn’t take the suspense any longer– she needed to know! “Forgive me, but… I do not recognize House Vem. Are you a lord from a distant land? A friend of my father’s?”

He seemed to ease up a bit now that he could boast about himself. “I am both and more, my Lady. I am the Baron of Opals, of House Vem. We come from the Kingdom of Po’lah, but our trade expands across the star.”

“A merchant.” Leleni thought, grinding her teeth together as she listened to him. “This… could work. Merchants roam far and wide to sell their wares…” Her eyes flickered before asking, “You must have many tales of your adventures between the Isles… what is it like to travel so often?”

Nonobira blinked a bit before partially deflating; he could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh! W-well I uh… don’t really… travel that often. As the inheritor of my family trade I can’t risk such dangers. But I have many men under my command that aid in my business and do the sailing for me!”

“Mmm…” Leleni couldn’t hide her disappointment, even while wearing her maiden cowl. She stood there staring at him while he timidly approached, offering her hand when he reached for it. He lowered himself to one knee and tenderly kissed her knuckles, with his mustache brushing against the top of her hand. He was gentle and kind, at least… but Leleni felt like sinking into the rug beneath them. When he rose back up to his feet, he was a few ilms taller, so that was nice– until she realized he was wearing elevated boots.

“Since… we are to be married soon…” He started, drawing her attention away from his feet. “May I… take a peek? And receive a fateful kiss?”

“Father would be very angry if he learned we broke tradition.” Leleni immediately answered, surprised she came up with that so quickly; in truth, the last thing she wanted was that mouse-like mustache against her lips. There’s no telling what the knights guarding the door would do to him if they checked in to see her maiden cowl off her face; not everywhere in the Southern Isles but certainly here on Kol’din, a virgin woman traditionally wears a cowl outside to conceal her face, only revealing her true self to her husband the night of their wedding. Any man who gazes upon an unmarried woman’s naked face is required to marry her or perish– many lowborn girls will intentionally reveal themselves to powerful and wealthy men in order to force them to marry, which is also why the unmarried lords of Kol’din keep their gazes to the ground or travel with a closed carriage to avoid such fates. “Perhaps we should sit? And talk some more?”

“Y-yes!” He released her hand and waddled over to the nearby chairs, pulling one out for her. “Of course!” For the next bell she listened to him describe his job, his accomplishments, and aspirations; none of which impressed her. Part of her convinced herself that this was all her fault– she had a prince locked down but she let him slip out of her fingers. All she could think about was that handsome but rude prince, who in all likelihood was married to another woman by now. Nonobira wasn’t a bad person, but he just wasn’t what she wanted. 

Leleni craved adventure. Heroism. Courage. She wanted her husband to hold any of these traits, but Nonobira seemed to have none. She wanted to make her parents proud and right the wrongs she committed upon her own family, but she also wanted to find true love. Was it too selfish to seek both? Was it so wrong to chase her own dreams? The one saving grace from this fateful meeting is soon she would be free to leave the claustrophobic confines of her family’s castle, which meant soon her father would allow her to choose a dozen Bulwark Knights to protect her for the next forty summers. As Nobobira rambled on about the intricacies of international trade, all she was thinking about were the brave knights that she would surround herself with. 

Perhaps, as she lived in her new mansion far away from her homeland, she could at least entertain the idea of being in the company of true heroes, of distinct men with great and infallible honor.

Strange / Flame ( @daily-writing-challenge @serararku )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Wardruna - Heimta Thurs

S'vahli could no longer feel the warmth of his goddess this far down underground. The shadows choked him with every breath, gripping and clawing at his skin as he descended deeper and deeper into the depths. His heart raced in his dry throat, knowing what he was about to do is considered sacrilegious… but only if he fails.

He could feel it. Darkness most foul permeated up from the cool dirt beneath his boots of bone, iron, and leather. It throbbed like a beating heart against his body, with an unknown presence beckoning him further in. Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to turn away from this claustrophobic place, but the Matron set him on a mission… a mission to save his tribe. Every few steps he had to pause to catch his breath and steel his nerves– but he was the Nunh of the Zu Tribe! Why was he so afraid?!

Because Azeyma could not reach this unholy place. He would not reach Her endless fields eternally bathed in golden sunlight. He would not join the Great Hunt with the legends of old, and he would not fight alongside the Warden and her chosen Nunhs. He would remain here in the dark and the cold, his soul endlessly tormented by Grro’therrik– That Which Burrows; he risked agony beyond his comprehension at the hands of this terrible evil… assuming his instincts were correct about this place. His thoughts anchored to his children to give him fury, drifted toward his tribewives to give him strength, and at last settled on S’era to give him focus.

When he stepped through the threshold he found nothing but misery. Miqo’te wandered along the narrow path in pools of stale cave water. Some stared blankly with eyes glazed over, reaching out at things he couldn’t see. Others were huddled with their heads down, panting loudly and whispering gibberish to themselves. Most of these people… no… all of these people, S’vahli has never seen before; they were either outsiders of the tribe that made their way into what is supposed to be a sacred place for communion with Azeyma, or they are Zu Tribe and have always been down here. Worse, they were all emaciated to the point of teetering on the brink of death, pale as a ghost from the lack of sunlight, and swollen lips covered in a strange black paste. These people were dying, barely clinging to life in a suspended stupor from whatever they were eating down here. This was not a place blessed by Azeyma.

“Enter.” A wispy echo wafted through the dim red haze. S’vahli turned his attention away from the mind-addled wretches and pressed forward, feeling vulnerable without his beloved axe. His hand twitched when he entered the wide chamber, almost blinded by the bioluminescent fungi sprawled across the floor, creeping up the walls, and dangling down from the ceiling. It stunk of filth in here, but of what exactly, he was not certain. Every step seemed to cause the growth to shimmer with a pale blue light– and it was unbearably warm.

There in the center were the Elders. Elder S’janas knelt before an unusually large cluster of the glowing mushrooms, begging and crying and praying in a language he did not understand. Elder S’ershi merely paced back and forth, scratching at the open scabs on her forearms from her long nails. It was Elder S’huuna, however, that looked through her wooden mask and beckoned S’vahli closer.

“The great S’vahli Hrothblood has entered our domain at last.” Her voice stimulated the fungi around her feet, causing them to brighten in outward waves with her every utterance. “It is good to see the Nunh of our tribe has decided to beseech Her will. You are long overdue.”

“Frogs!” Shrieked S’janas, raising her arms and shaking the bells in her hands. “Eyes in mouths come seeing, feeding, feeding, feeding, feeding!” S’vahli gave the woman a concerned look, but he dared not let his gaze linger; instead he pressed his fist against his chest and knelt down, as was the custom for greeting your betters. “The wind decries violence! Wicked wind! Wicked words!”

S’huuna continued as if she didn’t hear her. “We know why you have come to us on this day, at this hour.” The Nunh hid his expression well, but his heart pounded fervently against his chest all the same; if they truly knew his intentions then he was a hair’s breadth away from death. “You have felt it too. There is blood in your future. Blood and pain and misery.”

S’vahli didn’t answer, his face and body both as still as stone.

“We are being punished. The Zu Tribe is paying the price for our defiance. Azeyma will not relent until we correct our mistake.”

“Boiled in wool, the aldgoat bleats and screams!” S’janas chimed in again, before wheezing and coughing. “A night of endless shadow! Sent to swallow the lamb!”

“You will correct this mistake. You will punish this defiance.” S’huuna raised a crooked finger and pointed it at him. “S’era must answer in blood.”

“S’era?” He repeated, opening his eyes to look at the woman’s feet.

“The betrayer! Born in clouds! A laughing curse! Awakened!”

“She is not with a child.” S’huunas decided to explain a little further. “She is a wife, not a warrior. To deny her destiny is to defy Azeyma herself. She spits in Her face. You will enact her punishment or all of the Zu will continue to suffer.”

“Right what is wrong.” S’ershi muttered, glancing over at S’vahli before returning to her whispering and scratching.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. S’era was supposed to be with a child, this is true, but she was the best warrior he’s ever seen. She actively worked to unite the Miqo’te tribes of Thanalan and already proved her value to Azeyma at the Grrangr just a few moons ago when she challenged E’magmi to a Urru’thun and won. S’vahli wanted so desperately to believe the Elders were in the right, and they really were communing with Azeyma; but before he did anything, he had to know their true intentions.

“How will you have me deal with S’era?” He asked, clenching his jaw and furrowing his brow.

“Sins strip the flesh! An offering! Appeasement!”

“She wields her blade in defiance to Azeyma. Take her arm and in return, give her your seed.” S’huunas stood up as straight as the aging Miqo’te could, her frail chest swelling with pride. “She must carry your child. She will do her duty!”

S’vahli closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, almost deflating like a balloon when he heard his command. Purposefully maiming a tribewife was an unspeakable, unthinkable act, and he would have to force himself on her if he severed her arm; she would be a breeding slave, not a true tribewife, living a life of misery. She would be in no condition to properly raise their daughter… and she would no longer be able to do what she loved most– fight. What the Elders demanded was to give her a fate worse than death. What he suspected was true. Grro’therrik has severed them from their connection to Azeyma, poisoned their minds with thoughts of malice, and now seeks to turn him into its disciple. Hatred ignited the blood in his veins, filling him with murderous yet righteous intent.

S’vahli furtively tightened his fingers around the knife hidden in his boot, took in a long breath, opened his eyes, and did what he had to do. For the Zu Tribe… for Azeyma. For S’era.

Attention / Grief ( @daily-writing-challenge @corohveldha )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Caleb Bryant - Field of Dreams

It was getting harder and harder for Coroh to look at her babies. 

Nolas was old enough to hold a conversation with his parents– albeit a fairly simple one. He could run, he could climb, and in those bright purple eyes of his were bottomless wells of wonder at just about everything he saw. He was curious like his mother and restless like his father, always getting himself into mischief and learning faster and faster with each passing day. Watching him grow from her plump little pumpkin into a little man was a blissful agony that she was resolved to suffer in silence. He was already infatuated by Au Ra around his age… if she blinked she would find him with facial hair and babies of his own! It hurt to watch her baby boy grow into a man, and it was unfairly fast. She wanted to hold and cradle him forever, swaddle his wriggling body and listen to his breathing against her cheek. Time never really struck her until she witnessed his first steps… and now the realization has hit her again with her baby daughter.

She found Avanta trying to stand. For days Nolas has been trying to teach her how to, but she just can’t quite get it right just yet. Even using the wall– or her father’s leg– as support didn’t do her much good, but she was slowly progressing with every attempt. The innocent glint in her eyes made Coroh’s stomach sink. Soon she would be talking. Soon she would be walking. Very soon… she would be dreaming of marriage, just like her mother once did.

A shiver ran down Coroh’s back as she tried to fight back the tears. She couldn’t cry in front of her baby girl, she had to be strong for her sake. The last thing she wanted was to get into the habit of bursting into tears, especially when nothing bad was happening; her beautiful children growing up into beautiful people was a thing to be celebrated, not feared.

Coroh plucked Avanta up into her arms and peppered her chubby cheeks and neck with smooches, causing the baby to haplessly resist with flailing stubby arms and small squeaks. It was hard to hold her plump little pudding cup and not get emotional– but she had to resist. Resolved to enjoy her babies while she can, she decided to carry her daughter upstairs so she could read her some stories to help her learn.

She still had a decade of fertility left… and it’s not like her husband Leo would be against making another.

Inspiration / Unresolved ( @daily-writing-challenge @zoronadotatanado )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Tyrian 2000 - Sarah's Song ( Stone McKnuckle Remix )

“Why don’t we settle this with a wager then?!”

K’thalen froze with his cup pressed against his lips. He slowly looked down at the enraged lalafell with a sly smile spread across his lips. “Now yer talkin’ my language.”

“N-noli, maybe we should take a breath and-” Zoronado stopped mid-sentence when she shot him an angry glare; he knew better than to tell her to calm down at a time like this.

“A drinking wager!” She spat, compelling him to put his mug down. “Whoever’s still conscious wins!”

Another condescending chuckle came from the back of the Miqo’te’s throat, filling Nonoli with additional rage she didn’t realize she had room for. “Lil’lady… are ye serious? Challengin’ me? To a DRINKIN’ game? Oooh, heh heh heh… ye must be angry, aintcha? Heh heh heh…!”

It was Augusta’s turn to chime in. “He’s right, Noli… he drinks a lot. Like… a lot…”

“I drink too!” She squeaked back, stomping her tiny lalafeet. “All the time!”

K’thalen leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Pteh… lotsa wine. Gloooorified grapejuice, lass– what I drink on the regular’ll knock ye out flat. Ya don’t want this. Heh heh heh…”

Nonoli was at her breaking point! “Then we choose our opponent’s drinks! My stuff is stronger than your gross whiskey, I swear it!” Both Augusta and Zoronado gave each other concerning glances but at this point the woman was too angry to listen to reason.

Far too long this man has mocked her, ridiculed her, bullied her! He thought he was so clever, so funny– always laughing, always calling her names! The fury of a thousand suns burned in her veins and cried out for vengeance, for justice! Slowly K’thalen rubbed at his chin, unable or unwilling to hide his amusement. “Aight… yer on, Popoto Princess, heh heh!”

“Look at this lil’fishbowl-headed, pouty-faced, barrel-bodied brat, heh heh heh… oooh she’s MAD mad, ha ha! She’s in fer a world o’hurt when she’s facedown in the dirt!” 

“I can’t stand his stupid face! I’ll wipe that smile off if it’s the last thing I do! Mark my words, this rat-faced ruffian is going down! DOWN!”

Both opponents sat down nearby– with Nonoli having to add additional padding so she could actually reach the table. She was furious– perhaps more than she has been in a long time. Augusta reluctantly brought K’thalen’s drink of choice with Zoronado rummaging through Nonoli’s bags for hers. The time for trash-talking was over, now all they did was stare deeply into each other’s eyes while their friends prepared the shots.

Naturally K’thalen went first. He brought the drink up to his lips and knocked it back with one gulp, immediately smacking his lips and grimacing with disgust. “What kinda wine is this shite…? Can’t taste the alcohol under all this damn sugar… ya really drink this garbage?”

Nonoli didn’t answer. She pinched her button nose shut and exhaled sharply before downing her shot; fire ignited in her throat and burned a hole through her barrel-shaped body all the way down, but she didn’t waver. Zoronado and Augusta both stared in awe as the little Lalafell remained unflinching after tasting the worst of the worst– black belly whiskey.

Round two was more of the same. K’thalen clearly hated the taste but downed it all the same, tempted to grab a whiskey shot to wash it down. Nonoli barely blinked but never stopped glaring up at him, repeating the trick she used before to knock back the whiskey with minimal effort.

Round three was when things started to change, however. K’thalen rubbed at his chest after downing his shot, already teetering but without the buzz he longed for. Nonoli coughed and almost sputtered, but she clasped her hand over her mouth and forced herself to swallow. Both of them were beginning to get dizzy, compelling their friends to stand nearby and behind them– just in case they fell over. Yet Nonoli couldn’t lose… she had a reputation to uphold.

“Nono…” Zoronado whispered, rubbing at her shoulders amidst her laborious breathing. “It’s not too late… we can go fishing, or something… just you and me?” She blinked again, and for half a heartbeat her beloved knight was convinced she was considering it. That is until she opened her mouth and gestured for the next shot.

“He besmirched my honor.” 

K’thalen was forced to take off his hat and shake his head furiously to ward off the dizzying stupor on the seventh round. Augusta offered to take his hat from him but he waved his hand dismissively at her before slapping it back onto his head. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and he was struggling to stay upright; surprisingly his smirk had vanished. This little lady was more of a match than he thought. Nonoli hiccuped when it was her turn… and the nausea from so much whiskey was beginning to take its toll on her.

With a trembling hand he slurped down his shot on the twelth round, but the glass slipped from his shaking fingers. Augusta gasped when he slumped forward toward the table, but he forced himself to press on; unfortunately he over-corrected, and the spinning forest around them suddenly lurched forward moments before he slammed his head onto Augusta’s lap! THONK!

“I don’t believe it…!” She stared at the teetering Lalafell with amazement. “You… you actually did it?!”

Nonoli wiped the drool from the corner of her lip and raised a thumb towards Augusta… then she collapsed backwards into Zoronado’s awaiting arms. The Miqo’te sniffed curiously at the drink K’thalen was downing… and burst into an uproarious laughter!

“W-what’s so funny?!” Zoronado asked, startled. 

“Clever girl… HAHAHA!” Augusta couldn’t finish her sentence, slamming her hand on the nearby table. Only after staring at the bottle did Zoronado recognize it– causing him to laugh too.

She wasn’t serving K’thalen alcohol at all… but a sleep potion potent enough to knock out a behemoth. She... she CHEATED!!!

Day 1 - Party / Chills

Day 2 - Success / Sin

Day 3 - Inspiration / Unresolved

Day 4 - Attention / Grief

Day 5 - Strange / Flame

Day 6 - Expectation / Selfish

Day 7 - Dream / Sting