#nymfaia

i will forgo graphics for this ask because that would be a lot of graphics....

leo: night person for sure. imagine big luminous purple eyes watching you in the middle of the night.

kiht'a: also a night person. his blind eye does not glow in the dark, he looks like this:

g'azih: not a morning person by nature, but by necessity. he works in jobs where you have to get up very early, generally speaking.

haurchefant: also not a morning person by nature, would much rather stay up late and sleep in.

thancred: insomnia man. both a morning and a night person because he stays up later than anyone and wakes up earlier than anyone.

g'raha: not a morning person by any means. prone to staying up very late reading and just straight up forgetting to go to bed.

estinien: world's most morningest man.

erenville: morning person, yes. he gets up early to go bird watching.

hythlodaeus: neither a morning person nor a night person, but the fates are cruel and have forced him into being awake early. he hates it.

rielle is bleeding. her expression shifts to horror before chiyo puts together the other clues--the red face, the depressed, hopeless stance--and her mouth quirks. the instinct to comfort him fights with the distinctly fray-like instinct to laugh into her mug.

but she can sympathize, too (despite the bitter, wolf-like chuckling at sid's misfortune that echos in the darkest part of her soul; fray always lingers just out of sight when sidurgu and rielle are around, as if monitoring chiyo for good behavior). halonic chirugeons may be better than doman ones, but only just--the garlean influences on doma's culture and medicinal studies surely haven't helped anything, even under a progressive like lord hien. and like sidurgu, there are few she'd trust with rielle, or any of her young charges. sid himself. the scions, perhaps. thancred, of course. but a halonic chirugeon with old school ideas about purity and womanhood? fat chance.

There are scarce few luxuries left in the world remains - whether from the destruction that Kefka wrought, or from the masses using them up in their fear of the end. They all had lost, and they all would have to start over. But, now and then, peaks of before shone through. Terra refused to believe everything they held dear was simply gone, or would cease to be reforged. And so when she happened upon a traveling cart full of mismatched, scavenged things, she dug through, time and time again. This time, she had struck gold. Or, oil, rather - a single glass vial of roll-on cologne, the smell of it reminding her so strongly of a faraway king that it nearly made her chest ache. And so Terra wrapped it in a silken neckerchief (also from the merchant) and handed it to a carrier Moogle. She trusted few else to be able to track down the wayward king and his rebuilding castle. King Edgar, This reminded me of you. Of home. Happy holidays. May we meet again soon. Terra

Dusk settled on what used to be a fallen kingdom by the time the Moogle arrived, the buildings still only halfway being recostructed but already in a good enough shape. Edgar didn't stop a second drawing projects, helping in the many construction sites that popped up after Kefka's defeat.

Barely time to leave Figaro, barely time to meet with old friends, the King allowed himself a second to sit down and breathe only because his brother forced him to... and because he was yelled at once again for the way he lifted (or tried to lift) a particularly heavy piece of metal, one that would've likely made him say goodbye to his knees if Sabin didn't stop him in time. That's when the small postman waddles closer, surprising the king and standing by as he takes the small package, reads the letter.

And smiled.

"...you mind waiting for a moment?" Edgar said, giving a Moogle a handful of Gils before asking around for a piece of paper and something to write with, taking but a few seconds of the small creature's time before handing him a letter himself, telling him to return to the previous sender.

Dear Terra, Thank you for the gift. I'll cherish it immensly. You'll have to forgive a lack of present in return, but I fully intend to return your favor. The constructions are going quite well, the castle is already fully functional, and I assure you that the door will always be open for you. I truly hope we'll get a chance to meet soon, and I'll make sure to find something worth your beauty and kindness in the meantime.

　　𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. nana forced her glare to soften before she finally turned to look at him. she didn't quite like the looks of the place either, especially now as the sun had gone down completely and a cool fog had started to creep in, but she hadn't trekked all this way for nothing and she was quite sure it was a one person job.

Was this the type of work that was now expected of him as a Scion? Chasing after and watching someone who had the appearance of the town drunk? He couldn't smell alcohol on the elezen's breath, but his demeanor suggested as much. There was a strange sense of knowing as well, as if he had met someone like him before in another place or another time.

That was likely the result of another's memories pressing into his own, begging to be acknowledging while G'raha did all he could to stubbornly refuse them.

"I think you'd find yourself surprised." He had spent quite a few years learning how to wield a bow to defend himself, and he was quite capable at tracking and hunting wild boars. Lifting them was a challenge, but one he had been able to measure up to, and the elezen didn't look like he could have weighed more than one. G'raha was confident he could carry him if he needed to (over the shoulder, of course), though the experience would have been unpleasant for all involved.

a moogle is gunning to cut the thread of g'raha tia's sad life. when he spots it, g'raha's eyes open so wide they might pop out of his foolish, empty miqo'te head. he quickly sets aside his chosen project, not caring that it makes a mess on the table, and holds his hands up in nervous defense. not that it saves him. he looks around for a savior in one of their companions and finds none.

bonk! "ouch!" he rubs the sore spot on his head, ears back, face innocent and sweet--as if he doesn't know exactly what he has done. he shakes his head to clear himself, giving krile his best pleading (and very earnest) look. she's quite the pictomancer and could summon a veritable horde of moogles, if she so wished--and he certainly does not wish for that. best to please her.

"krile, please!" g'raha won't throw alta under the metaphorical trolley--even if her consent was enthusiastic enough to lead to this predicament. again. while he'd like nothing more than to teleport straight to alta and help soothe her nausea (his heart aflutter with hope about her condition), he's too fond of his sister to ignore her concerns. she is a woman, after all, and she shares a comradery with the other women of the scions that g'raha has missed out on due to his gender--but he admires the pact, too.

"her medicines are her affair!" said with no anger, but pleading. "i do not intend to pour tea down her throat, especially when she is too tired to brew it, and so very cold at night, and-" he need not elaborate past that, the circumstances of how this happened becoming quite clear. his face flames, and he avoids krile's discerning eye by looking up, distracted and foolish in love as ever. "ah, but why did she not call for me? i would go to her if she-" it doesn't occur to him that she might be wishing for space, because g'raha has never wished for space from her or their family unit--though he has been wise enough to give it to her, now and then, agonizing as it is. one thing is true: if alta is with child again, she will be suffocated by her companion's presence, ever-lingering over her shoulder as he did the first time through.

how they will manage more than one child, he isn't certain. but g'raha is optimistic, as he always is with alta. and overenthusiastic. again, a trait she brings out in him.

rainbow i didnt study for this test im gonna fail,,,,,,,,,,,

MAJOR SHB/ENDWALKER SPOILERS :

i will admit i don't think about this much (i need to finish out the qitari beast tribes and i'm very garlemald focused because i'm a rome nerd) BUT it is a very good point! society building is clearly a hyperfixation for him, he loves to play civilization with people's lives (the tone is neg). and given the way time works on the reflections, it's entirely possible that ronka was his prototype for the eventual creation of garlemald. though ronka's history is a little bit choice based, i wonder if perhaps ronka went too well? he got too sentimental, he listened to his advisors too much, and they ended up being conquerors/went into assimilation of other cultures as planned...but their society never fell apart quite the way he wanted, thus the very intentional war of succession in garlemald. he wanted them to fight and fall apart from the inside because if the society is too successful, how will the calamity come upon itself? i like the societies he influences being ever-changing prototypes that he tweaks with each generation (see: allag and probably a ton of others). and of course, there was probably an azem shard there who he loved. probably that one we see on the mural who i cannot remember for the life of me. because he can't fucking resist

i don't remember much else about ronka or calamity lore because i'm a bad ascian writer who sometimes is just bullshitting around. so anyone else can chime in on this too (probably felicia when she hops on). if this didnt answer your question rainy feel free to take me out back and shoot me

obligatory post from our dms that feels relevant here with the azem shard in ronka (because that is technically ardbert lmao):