<art was made by me. Banner on my posts by @the-leyline-directory>
《 HI hello! I'm no good at fancy promos!》
{ I'm Fox. 30+ years old with almost two decades of Rp experience. I prefer not to interact with minors. They/them.}
FFXIV OC RP blog for Cyra Lunastra.
•Multiship- I'm a filthy shipper but I absolutely prefer slow-burn romances than immediate sailing ships.
•Multiverse (Check out the links below for what version of her you'd like to interact with!)
•18+ because no subject is off limits for me as long as it has purpose in the story. However, I do respect boundaries and if there are things you are uncomfortable with, please let me know.
•Novella-length writing. Absolutely no pressure whatsoever to match my length. I an excitable person, and my writing style's purpose is to paint you the exact same picture that I envision when I write. If you want me to write less, let me know and I will accommodate you!
•Moderately active. I do work from home, but most of my free time is on the weekend.
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Sorry for the absence (again). Who knew babies needed so much attention? Anyway, soon I will be making some much-needed adjustments in my personal life and hopefully I will be back to writing before the end of the month.
For those of you who are still here, I appreciate you very much.
I have enough in my for one reply tonight! I will get it out as soon as I can. Last week and a half I've been having some intense pain in my hands (it's just a chronic pain issue, no real solutions yet), so tonight I will take it a little easy and just limit myself to one.
My plan is to spread out my writing to one a day maybe...
I promised myself I would do writing but the Nightreign dlc drops tomorrow and I rediscovered the joy of failing miserably. Sunday will be back to your regularly scheduled writing program.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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For a brief moment, he felt his control shift, slip towards the wolf, and the rush of enjoyment, of sadistic pleasure at letting loose hit him with sickening realization. The switch had flipped, and he was on the hunt. She was skidding to a halt, back exposed, and his claws swung with one simple intent: to kill. Right at her face, her chest, her heart.
And he barely pulled the blow, just barely, his fist instead slamming into her chest, with a crunch of bone, as he wrested back control over his own beast with a snarled, “No!”
(Descriptions of blood, violence, and gore beneath the cut.)
Wrathful claws had been ripped free of their targets. Her sinner's evidence quickly stitched back together, leaving only rubied trails in snow-white fur. The sickening pops of bone separating from socket made the spirit witness in horror as her body had been thrown through the air. The pain struck deep, but the pilot cared not for whatever impairment it may have caused the Keeper. She felt every ignited flame of each damaged nerve burn as her leg wiggled awkwardly through the air.
Her shoulder popped when she landed, she felt joint leave socket as her battered being rolled. Sahm'athiel made no sound through his soulless ventriloquism. That gruesome grin painted the red horror lying wait within. Had he full control over his host, things would be different. This mere annoyance of a pup would have his head disconnected from his shoulders before he even had a chance to strike. With the speed that this bladed kitten could move, if he had just been able to use even a modicum of his hellish power, her lack of strength would have made her a true avatar of death on the field of battle.
Angling her trajectory, the voidsent parasite managed to maneuver her good leg to post into the mud to slide backward. Knowing the damage done to the silver wolf, this gave the creature a moment to recover-
The sound that left Cyra's body had been a mix of air, a gag, and a cough. Stars began to fill her vision as her broken body laid out in the mud. Glittering flashes danced around the edge of sight to obscure the darkened clouds swirling above. It was in this moment, that the pain had finally filtered through the chemicals, control, and the demon resting within her. She coughed, feeling what little oxygen that was left in her lungs escape with a thick gurgle that sprayed from her lips.
With ragged breath, she screamed.
The sound was haunting.
Like the scream of a dying animal, and a wail of anguish ringing out of tune. Dual voices shrieking in rage and terror.
Then it stopped.
The creature's back arched, hands locked in a wicked posture. The concavity of her broken sternum snapped up and back into place. Quickly, her torso snapped up, head still tilted up towards the sky. The dislocated leg cracked and reset in a jolt that raced through the rest of her body. Limbs convulsed, and a new river of red and black spilled forth from her mouth. It dripped down her neck, coating the magitek collar and seeping down into the shredded Imperial uniform forced upon her.
"How sweet of you to hold yourself back for little me."
Rasped words hissed forward from a still blood-flooded chest. Her bladed fingers locked together, curling up to rest her cheek on the back of her hands in a twisted display of flattery.
"You'll wish you didn't, pup." Malicious intent dripped from her lips.
My turn.
It took less time to reach her target than the first charge. Her speed made her slide through the dirt like a fish through water. One hand dug into the earth to change direction as she slashed at his legs to force him down on a knee. Blood arcing through the air as elegant ribbons in a violent dance. With his movement impaired, she spun around dipping and leaping up to cut through the thick fur on his back and slice into the soft flesh beneath. Each howl of pain and grunt of discomfort was music to the darkness beneath blue flesh.
After a few free hits to open targets, Sahm'athiel decided to end this little game. Circling around the wolf, Cyra dashed in towards his front. Muscles snapped as they were pushed past their limit. One foot hooked into the muscle at his hip, and the other dug into his abdomen. Fingers dug into the thick meat at the back of his shoulders.
Vicious teeth sunk into the neck, shredding flesh and seeking the rush of warmth pulsing quickly beneath the fur and skin.
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He had introduced himself as such in the home of alleviating any concerns she might have had, not to exasperate them. If she knew he was a dominant, then perhaps it would be easier for her to trust him; he would have an understanding of the usage of magic like another bearer, but without the baggage that would come from associating with one who had escaped the branding process. Of course it would always be a little more complicated than that, especially considering how he was supposed to be dead, but the thought had been there all the same.
It seemed he may have miscalculated, though, judging from the panic that lanced through her upon hearing his words.
"Please-- please, calm down." There was no hiding her panic and he doubted she had the mind to even try in the moment. Joshua spoke calmly, doing his best to keep his tone even as he tried to reassure her. "I know. No trouble will come to you, I swear."
Lie, all lies. But at least this time the trouble would not necessarily come from him. From the damaging all around them, Joshua could guess that it would chase after her merrily even if she tried to run away from it. He could offer her up some semblance of security though, as there was hardly a safer place to be than in the care of the Undying.
"Cyra." Joshua repeated her name, both to try to put them on more equal ground and to cement it in his mind.
"Call me Joshua. Please, I'm not any different from you." Phoenix or otherwise. If she had tried to pull away in her panic, he would have let her, but otherwise he squeezed her hand again gently to try to keep her grounded in the moment.
It was a dangerous question to ask the very creature that caused the destruction. Yet, the calm that came from his voice was a soothing melody. Combined with the soft touch of his hand holding hers in reassurance, the quickened thumping in her chest had slowed to a steady beat. There was still a manner of fear present within that cage protecting her heart. She had learned that kindness had always come at a cost, even if her Lord had given her shelter and more than her previous master, it was always an effort to gain something from her.
There was a peculiar sound in the way he spoke her name. It was as if he had no knowledge of what she was, or what she was known for. If there was any chance he didn't, and she had truly found a place that wouldn't exploit her for her unique way of using aether...then perhaps his words did ring true.
Only time would truly tell if he meant well.
Panic still glinted in her gaze as she hesitated to stand. Her starlit eyes glancing from Joshua's hand, to the ground, to somewhere off to the side and bouncing back to her own feet. If he hadn't reacted to the sharpened claws that tipped each finger, then maybe it wouldn't hurt to at least stand.
Finally, as she rose to her feet, she nodded in response to his question. It was shaky, hesitant, and the thought of the memory made her shiver. Her fingers tightened against his gloved hand. It was then that she released his grasp. She wrung her hands together, fearing the tremble would cause him harm. As she glanced around at the blackened flora surrounding them, the memory of losing that control let loose a shudder that felt more like an isolated earthquake under her feet. Her tail uncoiled from around her waist, whipping around behind her before the tufted tip swished up into her hands. It was all she had to help her remain calm.
"It was me." She whispered. It felt like a nightmare, but the evidence was clear. Her voice hollowed out her chest, replacing the flesh with terror. "I did this."
@voidtouched-blue liked for a starter from Estinien
Aymeric had made no small number of jokes about how Estinien just seemed to get into trouble if he didn't reign him in. Estinien wasn't beating that assumption today, as he is standing in front of Cyra absolutely covered in mud, dirt, and a questionably red substance that appears to be blood.
She raised her eyebrow at his statement. Part of her wondered why she even bothered sometimes. Not only was the man a whole experience of his own, but one that somehow needed to be watched closely. Whether or not the trouble found him was always to be determined, and not by her. Cyra pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
"Should I even ask?" She crossed her arms and looked back up at him. "It better not be yours, or else you actually need to pay me this time."
Hi friends! If you havent noticed me posting again, then let this be the sign to show I'm back!
My time is super limited so I can only do a reply or two a night, but if we had a thread in the past and you still have interest in writing with me, give this a like, comment, or you can even dm me!
I've still got a ton of replies drafted and just want to gage interest right now.
He wondered if she felt anything behind those black eyes.
He took another step forward, crouching low, loosing another ground shaking rumble. “Do not make…me hurt you.” Halting words, so foreign on his tongue, but better. He could talk, at least, better than before. And that anchored him, as he waited, ready for her, even as that voice whispered in his mind.
Are you really any better than her?
(Depictions of blood, violence, and war beneath the cut. Please read at your own discretion)
"Enough," A voice had said.
Her keen ears had picked up a single voice among the surrounding chorus of war. The demon guiding the crazed Miqo'te commanded her like a puppet, turning his dark gaze towards the rivaling beast before them. Size did not mean strength. The violent grin dripped with ink and blood, flesh dangling from a serrated mouth as the laugh bubbled up again. The beast had been crouched over her victim as the white wolfman approached, demanding her obedience with a threat. The chuckle became an erupting crescendo of shrieking cackles. Much like the demon hiding within the beast, the sound of it set nearby Imperials and Eorzeans alike backing away to continue their fight out of reach. None wanted to get caught in the crossfire.
This is just a dream. A nightmare. I would never actually do this...right?
The creature took a deep breath, no reaction to the blade that protruded from its side. Blackened eyes locked in on the silver glow before her, tongue flicking out to lick bloodied lips as her fingers wrapped around the broken shaft of the spear. Another laugh ripped through her chest and throat as the steel glinted in the flames around them. The biting metal slowly removed from the wound, and her life spilling out onto already bloodied cloth and dirt below. This new enemy was a welcomed challenge. She began to circle him, prowling on all fours, her tail a red whip behind her. As she crawled, Aether flittered out from the gash, knitting the tissue back together.
You rest, dear Cyra. Allow me to play out this dream for you. I'll tell you how it ends when you wake.
Sahm'athiel soothed the woman below the chemical chaos. If Garlemald had done anything for him, it was give him an avenue in which he could wrest some control over her body. It was the very thing he had passed through the veil to do. And after years of waiting, eating, growing, and sinking his teeth deeper into her soul...he finally had his wish. It wasn't where he wanted. He didn't have total control. There was a limit to his influence, but the drug they had given her before this had become his route to success.
Cyra's mouth opened, teeth biting at the air as a warning. Size did not mean strength. The mantra repeated in the demon's voice as she began the charge. In a flash of blue and red, she left only clouds of dirt in her wake. She launched at him like a wild animal, all weapons extended as she leapt up. One bladed hand dug in at the collar, the other swung around his neck with the rest of her body. Her other hand dug into the muscle under his arm, searching and tearing in for a grip. Her teeth sunk into the back of his neck, biting only fur at first before spitting out the tufts and going back in to seek flesh. One foot dug in, kicking at the flesh beneath the white coat to soak it in red.
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Alexis lets out a heavy sigh, limping over to the toppled machine. The battle was over; Gaius was defeated but still breathing. He should have been more focused; he's gotten this close to dying a couple of times throughout the fight and almost killed Cyra as an effect. Alexis turns to lean against the machine before sliding down as he winced in pain once his rear reached the floor; adrenaline was starting to fade away. If it weren't for her, he'd barely be enough to stop this colossus monster. No wonder she was picked for this job; if only her offensive powers could match Y'shtola's, he thought. He'd have to make a report of this, a lengthy one.
That's where it clicked; why couldn't Y'shtola have accompanied him? Clearly from the fight, Cyra's offensive power couldn't compare to the Conjuror's own level, and the usual party that joins him was nowhere to be seen. The fog that troubled him was slowly clearing up while the fire around him stuck out their tongues to taste the drizzling rain; the machine acted as a roof to keep them dry. He kept thinking, kept wondering.
"Fuck," he said, his hands resting on his head.
Was there ever a need for replacement in the first place? Urianger was doing most of the healing anyways; Y'shtola was just providing more offensive aspects. He started spiraling.
Alexis looked at Cyra for a while; his expression turned from confusion as if she'd say something out of pocket to fear as if he'd seen the end of his life. A new color of white had replaced the blistering rage that had left his face moments ago; with brows furrowed, he coughed into his fist as pain started introducing itself to other parts of his body.
"Fuck," he cursed weakly as he pieced this puzzle that plagued him throughout the battle.
Cyra was bait for him to be examined during the fight. To keep him alive long enough to be studied, to understand his physical limit. If only he had better affinity with the Aether, he could detect if anyone was around here spying on them from afar. It's a game now; he shifted his focus onto Cyra again.
His expression softens. But isn't all this just karma? For the sins he's committed until now, the bodies left in his wake. Both the innocent and guilty were snuffed out at the sight of coin, a mere pittance of currency, a mere pittance of his own survival. His stomach grumbled, but there are more pressing matters to attend to than his hunger; maybe she's in on this. No, that can't be. There'd be some kind of sign; his senses would have gone off; he would have whispered something. It was too risky for Y'shtola to let her in on this, he thought, and he's relieved at that thought.
"Rhazt," he says as his eyes slowly stray from the healer and into the fire.
"Don't call me that in front of anyone else," he added. Dejected from his discovery, but grateful to have Cyra, who he arguably trusts more than the Scions, with an exception of a few.
His stomach grumbled again, looking down at it and sighing after.
"Do you still have that pouch? Tataru made something for us." He asked as his eyes scanned her belt, but his vision is thoroughly fucked at the moment.
Keeping herself focused on his well being had been her only saving grace in keeping her mind off of the scene she had witnessed. She knew the Warrior of Light was powerful, but this was altogether something different. It felt more sinister than what she had been made to believe. Such thoughts had to be wiped away with the sweat that beaded on her own brow. It wasn't her place to ask. This Viera was a total stranger to her. Only briefly had they met before this, and it wasn't an introduction. It was more like a glance across a table laid clear with plans for the invasion of the Castrum. Never would she have guessed that Y'shtola would be entrusting the health of Eorzea's up and coming hero to her.
Her ears flicked as she dismissed the thoughts and set her focus towards healing his wounds. She felt the well of Aether within, and called it forward. It flowed forward like a warm summer breeze, engulfing the two of them in a comforting green light. It took only a few moments before the spell completed. The shimmering essence twinkled around them. Turning her gaze back up to him, that was when she realized he had been staring at her. It was brief, but she swore she could see a hint of suspicious curiosity in his eyes. Cyra blinked in response.
"All right...Rhazt." The name came easily to her, yet just the same it felt rude to call him that. Shouldn't a man of his caliber demand more respect than being on an informal basis with someone with as little importance as her? Perhaps it was just the impostor-syndrome possessing her mind. Somewhere within the shock and awe of his frightening power, and her realization that she was in the presence of someone who just took down a world-ending machine entirely alone, his urging caught her attention.
At his question, she wordlessly gasped and patted herself down, dropping her staff in the process. Clawed fingers quickly found the rations made with loving hands at her side. Gently, she handed the pouch to him. Perhaps, in his hunger, resetting the broken bone in his leg would be a little less painful. She didn't have much left of energy as far as casting a deeper spell would go. Yet, that's what her own pack of provisions was for.
"My apologies," she stumbled tiredly through her words. "It is rude of me to stare." The light chuckle was unexpected...and out of place.
"Magitek is the pride of Garlemald, the pride of the Empire, don't forget that...my pet."
The voice echoed in the back of her head, setting her ears to flatten against singed hair. Cyra felt the fur along her spine bristle as she pushed the memory out of her mind. She couldn't afford to lose herself now, not when healing was needed of her.
"I'm afraid I have nothing left in me to cast for your leg. I need to set the foot before we can leave this crater. Let me know when you are ready, and I'll pull it back into place." The Keeper did her best to not think of what happened, and the darkened memories that began swirling up to the surface like the smoke drifting skyward around them.
send 🚢 or ( 'SHIP' ) if you ever considered shipping our characters romantically and want me to fill out the following form for our muses. bold all that definitely applies, italicize what could potentially apply. feel free to add more if you think certain options are missing or you just want to add more.
do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon
would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no
type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes | engaged | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | friends with benefits
tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship
would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )
what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter
anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: ( put whatever you want here )
