Faelith

@faelithurgy.bsky.social

186 Followers 53 Following

(Momo) | 30+ | Jenova Tumblr: Faelithurgy Ao3: Faelith

Flight of an Anorak 8 - The words prove Wilfsunn wiser and kinder than he had known. Urianger fights to be calm. He nearly wins. But what is left can't be called reason, or reasonable. What whimpers out of him, finally, is pitiful surrender; "I want to go home." Even the Dogs - How eager he is to push aside all rough things to get at the softness within. Like shucking a clam. He used to slip them open with a dull knife on the docks to eat them raw, and Morrie kept the gulls away. lambfic - She doesn't remember what she has done wrong but understands that it must have happened. What's worse, she feels no remorse or disgust. Flight of an Anorak 7 - "It is Nymeia who guides us through knowledge's great ironies. She is the gate from which knowledge came; she stands between what can and cannot be known. This was the first lesson taught to man." (unfinished daemon fic) - The world was nothing but cages, one inside another, inside another, until it went all the way down into your heart, and the other way it went out, and out, and up, to the Light and perhaps further even than that.
ffxiv players after beating sugar riot
screeenshot showing the title has been acquired
Miura Naeuri (War lizard) holding an axe
Weekly Performance Campaigns: 8 1st place 4 (50.0%)
a ffxiv player character on the amaro mount
“You’re going to be fine,” Yda promises. But her voice betrays her. Thancred moves. Urianger, Moenbryda watch as he appears a knife from somewhere on his person, a violent silver flash in the summer light. A vivid and sharp thing, the sight of which sets Urianger still. Wordlessly, he reaches down and saws away a little gasp in the tangled fabric, letting the girl free. Yda lifts her immediately. Held to her hip, she drags her sister bodily to the opposite bank. Poor Lyse has a terrible scrape on her chin and arm, and dabs tears shakily on her wrist. Moenbryda returns to get him, and when they arrive at the end of the bridge Y’shtola is administering a weak bit of conjury to the injuries. “What were you thinking ?” Yda demands, half-distraught. “Do you have any idea what I’d do if–” “I’m sorry,” Lyse pleads, snotty and scabbing. “I wanted to...” Yda has no answer. Silence falls over them, besides Lyse’s poor sniffling. Y’shtola looks to Thancred, glancing him over. She too had seen the weapon, he realizes. Just as quickly as it had appeared, he has hidden it again. To Urianger its shocking appearance was less disquieting than the realization none had known it was there.
a sketchbook page from 2026 nature art party; there is a bird, a robot fish, an octopus, a chameleon, a big monster, and some sketches of the coast and waterfalls.
ffxiv players after clearing wicked thunder
Miura (au ra warrior of light)
ffxiv screenshot showing a "misfortune" outcome of the new years omikuji
Cherule's letter from chapter 4 of Flight of an Anorak; Urianger, You are my dearest, and my lasting light in the dark days. I apologize for not writing to you until now. I would do as Jeaulond does, and save my words for kinder tidings, but I am regrettably unlike your father. I so badly miss you, and want to send you my words while I am able. The work I do is difficult; it is the kind that undoes itself behind you. I am lead to believe it will yet take some time. I would be in despair for not the thought of you and the company of your father. Know that were I there I would hold you tight, and sing to you, and kiss each of your cheeks and ears. As many years as my labors take, I will never not wish to return to you. When Urianger unfolds the letter, something small and silver falls out and into his lap. He picks it back up; it is a necklace with a tiny pendant, silver in the shape of a spinning wheel. It is finely crafted; the drive spins within its frame. I give you this; a necklace from my mother’s things. We discovered it in our bags sometime after we arrived in the motherland. Your grandmother was a devout Nymeian her whole life, just as her father was. When she left for Ishgard, I never forgave her, and so we raised you secularly. But when Jeaulond found the necklace and presented it to me I found some peace, as if she had finally come home. If Nymeia will bless anyone in our family I would have it be you. I will start praying again if there is no other way I might help you or be with you now. From the day you were born I worried I was a terrible mother. Now I am certain of it. But even if you should hate me for my insufficiencies, I pray you will allow me this. I love you, my dear. Be well and do not think of me; there is no need. You are immensely loved, here and in the stars, now and forevermore. Your mother, Cherule
Front and Center VI, Triumph in 300 matches in Frontline [210/300]
[Excerpt from Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett.] The two of them were left in their own private gloom. Granny sat staring fixedly in front of her. "You really shouldn't take it so bad, just because people aren't showing you any respect," said Margrat, pouring soothing oil on the internal fires. "They've hardly ever shown me any respect at all. It's not a problem." "If you ain't got respect, you ain't got a thing," said Granny distantly. "Oh, I don't know. I've always managed to get along," said Margrat. "That's 'cos you're a wet hen, Margat Garlick," said Granny. There was a short, hot silence, ringing with the words that shouldn't have escaped and a few grunts of pained surprise from the direction of the bar. I know she's always thought that, Margrat told herself within the glowing walls of her embarassment. I just never thought she'd ever say it. And she'll never say sorry, because that's not the kind of thing she does. She just expects people to forget things like that. I was just trying to be friends again. If she ever really has any friends. "Here we are then," said Nanny Ogg, emerging from the crush with a tray. "Fruit drinks." She sat down and looked from one to the other.
a player character au ra from ffxiv. she wears large pauldrons and carries an axe
ffxiv players that have cleared MS3
A nine square moodboard showing; an outfit with large pauldrons, marbled red tones, a reptile's eye, a protea flower, an image of miura, a crocodile's tail, short red hair, a dry mountainside, and a panel of a comic where miura says "I don't turn down food"
the 2025 Eorzean Symphony vinyl cover, but Urianger is redrawn to be wearing a formal dress.
ff14 characters stand around honey bee lovely (defeated) (we cleared ms2)
Alphinaud says; "Come now, even you have your limits-- but then, so too must he... One legatus ruling two provinces a world apart... Yes-- divide and conquer. We kindle the flames of revolution in Doma once more, thereby forcing Zenos to fight a ware on two fronts."
Lyse stands over Y'shtola's prone form. She says "If it wasn't for her, it'd be me lying there... ...I wish it was."
zenos' katana, broken in half on the sands of rhalgr's reach
a screenshot of an m1s clear. players are posed around the defeated boss (black cat)
Front and Center VI (145/300)
badly pixelated image of an anime girl saying "Never stop killing no matter what"
thancred waters (pixelated) saying "can someone help or kill me please"
conrad (npc) cosmin (jacob's alt) and mimi (mimi) sit after the attack on rhalgr's
There is a carriage parked outside as Urianger and Moenbryda arrive to the estate. A servant hefts luggage bags into its open back; they look to each other in surprise. When they enter through the foyer, there is a commotion in one of the parlors. Urianger is ashamed to eavesdrop, but Moenbryda tugs on the end of his sleeve insistently, trapping him. "You're going to argue with me until the very last minute, aren't you?" It's Fourchenault's voice, strained but low. "I hope for you to remember your mercy, son--" "Do not ask me to be sympathetic, when you should have known better, from the start. For the boy's sake." "Fourchenault..." Heavy footsteps, and the door they both press to suddenly opens. The children flinch back, and Fourchenault blinks down at them in a stupor that seems to snuff out his anger. "...Pardon," he mumbles, surprise changing to irritation before he stows that too away. Fourchenault leaves past them, taking a right into the grand hall, and presumably up the staircases. When they turn back, Louisoix stands by one of the windows. The morning light glows over the regret on his wizened face. Urianger awaits some kind of explanation or comment to emerge in the man's old voice, but none comes. He looks out the window; to the carriage, Urianger realizes. Louisoix is wearing an outer robe and carries a cane, as if he is about to leave.
Raubahn: Per Pipin's plan, we need to turn East End into an imperial graveyard. You're a dab hand at this, and I'd be a fool not to use you.
Meffrid: Recently, the imperials have been swooping into villages unannounced and seizing supplies in order to prevent the people from stockpiling, in case they might be in league with the Resistance.
Miura in rhalgr's reach, wearing a red coat with large armored pauldrons. Her long hair is in a braid, and a gunblade is on her back.
alphinaud, miura, and alisaie standing in the rising stones
"I don't understand why it's taking you so long." Shale looks over her shoulder, up from the terminal. The warrior of light leans against a wall by the door, her gunblade slung to her back. She has come in for a debriefing in the early morning, before the rest of Oblivion has crawled out of their bunks. In her case, before she has seen her bunk at all. A few catnaps on her desk had needed to suffice. "We're doing all we can to trace Calyx," she assures. "If there are any developments, you'll be the first to know." Miura's tail flicks. "He's using the authority of the endless queen, isn't he?" Shale blinks. In her weary state, the suggestion sends a throb of adrenaline down to her chest. "I would have noticed that," she answers plain and slow. There's no telling how much these new strangers understand of their systems, so she keeps her explanations simplified, brief, and inarguable. To her knowledge, Miura is not much of a scholar. "He must have some sort of back door." "Or he's held her strings from the very beginning." Miura looks at her, cool and reptile. Shale hides the shiver that goes down her back, and tightens her grip around the stylus in her hand. "You're really telling me you've never seen anything like this before?" "How would I tell?" She shrugs, ambivalent. "If it was here from the start, it would look like business as usual, wouldn't it?" Miura holds her in her gaze for a while. Thinking. Her tail lashes again. "It would," she admits, averting her gaze once more. "You're anxious," Shale offers. "We're getting run around. He has the advantage. I don't like it." She keeps focusing somewhere far away. "People are going to get hurt." "They already have," Shale corrects, stern.
Ascilia looked into his eyes and considered the implication of his words without prejudice. After a moment, she nodded in agreement. “...Very well. But what name shall I take?” Thancred closed his eyes, thought briefly for a moment, then spoke. “Minfilia,” he said with quiet conviction. “Minfilia Warde.” It was nearly as inspired a name as the one Louisoix had convinced him to embrace so many years ago. A common enough name for a Highlander girl—yet not one so overused as to draw unnecessary attention. A name that would keep her safe in Thancred’s absence. “Minfilia...” she said with a smile. “Yes, I rather like the sound of it.”
A ffxiv screenshot where Y'shtola's dialogue has been edited to say; "I've invented a new spell called "Feminism IV." And I'm casting it on you right now."
Urianger is getting to be a mom, for just a moment. Maybe not even a good one. Maybe one stuck within a passive role. But to be a mother is blessed relief to her compared to the role the Exarch has put her in, which hangs over her dreadfully. Urianger lights up when she addresses Ryne, and buckles over or crumbles to her knees when she confronts her deceptions. Being a mom has its limitations, but it is at least authentic to her and her desires.
the same hrothgal, looking at a quest item (a scroll) labeled 'queer leaflet'.
A hrothgal wol stands in front of Thancred. He has a quest marker over his head
How long have I struggled to reach this point! My countrymen so inured to the taste of defeat, they no longer balk at its bitterness. Shouting my throat raw with rallying cries, only to be greeted with dull eyes and blank faces! My “brothers” and “sisters” in Ul'dah have surrendered to their apathy and their appetites. Were it not for the glint of Lolorito's coin, I doubt even those here now would have answered my call! “Take back our homeland! Free Ala Mhigo!” Hah! They'll happily mouth the words, but they won't spill the blood! You say no mortal should wield these eyes? Then I shall gladly become a demon! I will suckle on the souls of the hopeless, and liberate the homeland they no longer deserve!
Illuminant Jewel (ffxiv femroe warrior of light) in black mage gear; a dark purple outfit with a witch's hat, and a voluminous sleeved bolero jacket over a bikini top.
A screenshot from FFXIV containing a dialogue box. Refinery Engineer: As you may have noticed, we produce a lot of ceruleum here. But did you know that the resin that comes as a by-product can be used to make carbon fiber? From what I hear, outfits woven from the stuff are all the rage over in Ilsabard.
An illustration of Y'shtola (ffxiv) and Miura (warrior of light) in their normal color palette. Y'shtola has her staff leaned into Miura's shoulder, who stands with her hands on her hips. Y'shtola's clothes are primarily black and white, and Miura's are red and bronze/gold.
an drawing (unfinished) in photoshop of miura and y'shtola. the color palettes of the two characters have been swapped.
A panel of an upcoming comic. Y'shtola is sitting across from Miura, explaining the threat of the primals. An illustration of Ifrit hangs above them, non-literal, filling the background at an oppressive size, symbolizing the danger and what it means to Y'shtola's work.
A drawing of Miura (ffxiv wol) with red glasses, head lowered. The glasses only obscure part of her eyes, and where they do, her yellow limbal rings turn bright red. She is wearing a sci-fi outfit from Solution 9.
a simple green aligator that is like 40% mouth. his name (Big Challenges) is written below in red
A ffxiv femroe in a black spacesuit with blue accents, standing on the moon. Machinery and Etheirys are in the background.
Miura, a Raen Au Ra with red hair. She has pale, forward facing horns and wears a cyberpunk jacket, with red lights on the inside of the collar. A sci-fi city sits in the background.
He was winded and shivering by the time they made it to the abbey. The spring had been cold and dreary, and a biting breeze lifted out of the sea and stole warmth from his ears and fingers. Urianger did not mind it. There were far colder darknesses in ignorance and apathy. The building gnawed deep into the stone, and its face jutted out into a wide landing that yawned off the cliff. The pavestones here were masoned into sharp forms and patterned like ripples in a pond, dropping from the columns of the facade's either corner. Its bumpy walls betrayed age, but the steeple towered all the more proudly above the rose window. It did not resemble its architectural cousins upstairs, with their white stone hewn from the Dravanian mountains. Urianger had read rumor that Ishgardian masons had been hired, though he remained doubtful even after seeing the resemblance himself. "I'll wait for you outside, son," Wilfsunn tells him politely. Urianger nods, but doesn't look back. He works the spinning wheel out from under his tunic. Warmed from his skin, it feels like a little ember in his fingers.
Illuminant Jewel (Femroe) in a collared shirt and tie, vest, and a long black skirt. Her black boots have tall heels, and a gold, dark-glassed monocle covers one eye.
a retainer inventory full of crafting scrip turn-ins
Thancred: ...I may have overreacted. But it needed to be done. He was becoming hysterical. I understand the desire to look for reasons. For excuses. To convince yourself you had no choice. But the past is the past, and there is naught to be gained from reliving your mistakes. I know this. I know this. But he...
x-ray cgi render of a human head with a bright orange trex inside
"If thou wouldst forgive, please. Forgive whatever show of weakness would cause thee to think me wavering so. Have I not devoted myself wholeheartedly to our cause, as promised?" "Only after Thancred had to beg you," she exagerrates, gesturing. "And if you really felt that way, I don't think you'd struggle so much with a damn compliment."
two final fantasy xiv characters, named 'dutch vanderlinde' and 'arthur moregan'