#ruska

What if "Ruska but lost in FF14?"

Oh no! Looks like someone's a little lost? A piece of a demon, arriving upon a crystallized land. How would someone devoid of aether fare on a star like that?

Its a silly but common concept. And instead of being a re-fitted character like before, like that Greyl-variant, it is an actual original piece of Ruska Tjarobullheim FROM Nidus. Due to some kind of strange incident, a little part of her is suddenly thrust upon the soil of Eorzea. Mor Dhona, to be specific. Even tried to make Revenant's Toll as a skyline, although maybe not yet successfully in the recognizability department. Good practice though. Really fucking intense on my nerves though, was nervous drawing that one.

Summer is over

Ruska walked with that easy, long limbed gait of his. He kept his pace slow, to match Flood’s, but there was always the restless energy beneath. He wanted to run. Explore. Never look back. The moonlight made his red coat look rusted gold in places, and the wind tousled his whiskers as he padded up the final dune, then paused. The ocean stretched out before them in endless, rolling velvet, black-blue and shimmering silver under the stars. Waves lapped the sand in soft, steady breaths, and the salt in the air clung to his fur. Ruska let out a low whistle, tail flicking as he looked out at it. It was if starlight itself had touched down and kissed them. “Damn,” he murmured. “Ain’t never gonna get tired of this.” He turned to Flood with a soft smile, digging his claws into the sand to stop himself from taking off like an energetic kit. The sand stretched so far, so eager for his paws to be on it. He yearned for it. But, he would stay beside Flood. He knew the other tom. “There she is, sugar. The sea.” He stepped aside so Flood could come up beside him, brushing their pelts together. “Told you it’d be worth the walk.” He breathed slow, dipping his nose into the sand and flipping a seashell up. Taking the delicacy in his teeth, he tucked it into Flood’s mane. Flood smiles as Ruska tucked a seashell into his fur. "I've been having these dreams," he murmured. "about Starclan. They said something big's coming, to hurt me." he sighed. "I don't know, Ruska. I don't know if any of it's true. But I have to tell you something." Flood moved his fluffy tail off of his pregnant stomach, revealing it. "I.. I'm pregnant, Ruska." He froze mid-step, his paw still half buried in the sand. The tide still sighed in and out beside them, but it felt as if his world has frozen. The seashell still sat nestled in Flood’s chest fur where it was, where he had tucked it moments ago. Now, it felt silly to Ruska. Like a child’s gift before the storm. His amber eyes flicked from the shell to Flood’s face, searching him, then finally down to where Flood’s tail had swept aside. For a heartbeat, Ruska just looked. Not at the bump, not at the sea, not even at the shimmer of wings beneath moonlight. He looked at Flood’s face. At the way he was smiling through the nerves, trying to be brave. Trying not to fold beneath it all. He blinked once, twice. Then his gaze settled on Flood’s stomach. “…That’s why you’ve been tired. And why your scent’s changed.” A breath of a laugh left him. “I thought I was just losin’ my touch.” He bent down, nosing Flood’s side, brushing his cheek against the soft fur there with a kind of reverence. “I can’t believe you kept that secret,” he muttered, voice muffled by fur. “You stubborn little thing.” He blew out a breath, lifting his head. He pressed his forehead against Flood’s, closing his eyes. “You’re sure? I… It’s real? You’re carrying-" "I'm pretty sure. I'm all tender now. Everything aches in a way i've never felt before." he smiled. "I wasn't keeping this from you for too long. I only found out a week ago." flood sighed. "You could never lose your touch. Not with me." he stared at his mate, who was prodding his side. he stared at the seashell in his fur. "Thank you, for being here for me, for being my everything. You're my home."

The dog from the Sea