malon

@minicactpot.bsky.social

540 Followers 145 Following

malon | they/them | 27 | english + 日本語 i: @sheaparfait.bsky.social • h: @neunian.bsky.social

amaris (a midlander teen girl) looking in awe at a rainbow unicorn (the alsvid)
Summon forth Alsvid, a unicorn whose rainbow hair makes it the rarest of its kind—a veritable unicorn among unicorns. Legend holds that this unicorn, possessed of splendid rainbow hair, is destined to bear a soul who embodies the brilliance of the sun. In seeming confirmation of said legend, the creature spurns ordinary riders, and lends its back only to the Warrior of Light. - In-game description
a happy meal style box with amaris and alphinaud on it. it reads “final fantasy r-eal meal”
a non posed screenshot of three seekers of the sun miqo'te against a black background. to the left is a older woman with pale blonde hair and paler skin. in the middle is a older man with warmer blonde hair and tanner skin. on the right is a younger boy with the warm blonde hair and slightly tanned skin. they are all dressed in clothes of yellows and browns
many stick figures on a piece of paper doing different poses. each of their faces has the names of the characters they are supposed to be
alphinaud in a 3/4th perspective. he is shocked
alphinaud in greyscale (amaris is kissing on him, her hand on the back of his head)
From the moment she set foot inside Alexandria's borders, her axe slashing into sentries with silky precision, he realized he could see her. More notably, when he blinked, the normal darkness had been replaced with a vivid image of her — every feature of her visage seared on the insides of his eyelids like a brand. A girl made of obsolete flesh and bone. An unanticipated and unexplainable variable. Who was she? Perhaps he was careless. In fact, he knows that he was. Moments when he should have been watching his pawn in Endless Sphene - when he should have been watching ber — he instead averted his gaze. Opting for a live view of a street she did not occupy or an equation that required review far, far away from the siren song call of her living, breathing body.
a gpose of amaris (a midlander teen girl) and calyx in his non-plush form. the room around them is dark and his body is half way transparent. he holds her face in his hands by the chin while the other hand pull her arm up by the wrist. she is looking at the ghostly figure in shock and a mix of anger/fear
"So why do you do it if you hate it so?" Hythlodaeus asks. Astraea's body tenses, just so slightly that not even the man next to her notices. "I do not hate it" She replies as her fingers flex. "What I hate is expectation. To be told exactly what I am supposed to do, even if I disagree." She adds as her eyes meet his. "Do you remember that island. The one we saved?" She asked, leaning into his warmth. "The Convocation would have allowed those innocent people to perish in brutal magma all in the name of evaluation.." Her practiced tone of nonchalance dropped "...What was their crime? To be born? To live? Should we have not known about the impending explosion I could have understood but to have known and still chose to sit idly by? It's obscene." She spits out. Hythlodaeus rubs his hand in soft circles against her back. "I remember that day fondly, you know?" He smiled. "It had been many Moons since I have seen you forgo your airs of indifference so openly." His voice smooth as he twists her in his arms. "Vibrance suits you." Astraea presses a kiss against the pulse point on his neck. "Do you mean to change the subject?" She asks, her voice laced with that so called vibrancy that only grows with the laugh that escapes him. "I would never dare." He gasps in false offense. "Conversations usually flow this way, very natural with input from both sides." He chides with an almost boyish grin.
my hand holding an “animators palate” drawing paper of alphinaud in front of the logo
"Alphinaud?" Amaris' voice cuts towards him like their borrowed shallop cuts through Galadion Bay. She can tell he isn't listening, his gaze fixated on the corrupt crystal that stabs through Pharos Sirius as they grow closer to the shores of the Isles of Umbra. She thinks back to the night before. How for the first time since reuniting in the humble halls of the Church of Saint Adama Landama, he was more than happy to not rush the process of facing Garuda. It surprised her, even more so when he offered his reasoning. "I would imagine any truth to the rumors of apparitions on the isle would be less likely under the cover of an afternoon sun. We will make the journey tomorrow...not tonight." He had said upon her prompting that they had more than enough time to at least see the crystals up close, if not excavate what they need in its entirety. Alphinaud did not seem fond of ghosts. In fact, she knows that he is not because this is the least confident she thinks she has ever seen him. She doesn't push it nor does she blame him — a shiver rushing down her spine as she thinks back to her foray into historic Hakkue Manor. Amaris takes in a deep breath before choosing to occupy her mind with the feeling of the icy breeze against her face and the occasional dip of her fingertips in the waters below. They dock with little issue, a bevy of space to do so thanks to the restrictions in place.
Twas you who convinced me the salvation of Eorzea was possible. 'Twas you who taught me through countless acts of bravery-that what my grandsire sought to preserve was not the land, nor its history, nor any single nation... It was the people.
Alphinaud shivers as the cold of Coerthas' summer seeps into his bones; the flames in the nearby fireplace dwindling down to an ember. He relates to it in a way. The boy he is today struggles similarly — he and the muted blaze sharing in the attempt to keep what little fire they have left in them from unceremoniously snuffing out. Both are a sad sight, but at least the fireplace doesn't have feelings. Alphinaud, on the other hand, has many. He feels weak. He feels naive. He feels ashamed. His teeth grit together tightly. A mash of bone that causes his body to shiver for a different reason. There isn't room for him to feel more pity for himself than he already does. If he is going to fix this, he needs to rest. He needs to try. Perhaps it's his nerves that cause him to scan the room - the potential of another harrowing loss lingering in every dark corner. He takes stock of everything and anything in the space, including Tataru and Amaris' sleeping forms, partially hidden by a makeshift divider. Despite the traumas of the previous days, they both seem to sleep as if everything is normal. As if their world has not shattered, only to be precariously held together by fraying ropes. He doesn't understand how they do it. His eyes linger on Amaris. Really, he doesn't understand how she does it.
"It wouldn't take resources to allow the Ixali to live freely in the Twelveswood. The same would be for any of the other spoken races who face similar prejudice. All that's really needed is for there to be a respectful understanding between everyone involved." Amaris says, her words falling into the next with a steady cadence. Behind her own passions, she notices how Alphinaud's eyes sparkle. He's enjoying this. "Just an understanding?" He questions. Amaris hesitates for a moment, her previous confidence wavering before she finds it again. "Yes." "I disagree." Alphinaud leans forward, his forearms dusting the table. "A respectful understanding would be important, 'tis true. Yet you seem to forget that there is more to integrating people into a society than that alone. We've seen it first hand with the Domans. Their struggles met with similar barriers as the Ala Mhigans, who might I add, are as Eorzean as the rest." He is frustratingly correct. Neither her or Alphinaud were alive during the age where Ala Mhigo was free — where it felt truly connected to Eorzea. Though it doesn't feel that way much anymore, Ala Mhigo is just as Eorzean as any other city-state. It and its people should be deserving of respect and aid both, yet they are met with scraps at best.
"Well, I suppose we should be grateful that they have finally acknowledged the inevitability of imperial attack. Who knows, they may even do something about it." Alphinaud whispers to Amaris, his voice gaining closer to exasperation. This is not the first time that he has shared his disenchantment that borders on disdain towards the Grand Companies with her. She has even come to expect it. Her mind harkens back to their first true meeting being just the same as today — Alphinaud ripping delicately precise holes in Eorzea's great city-states' facades while Amaris listens and offers the occasional kinder commentary. It works between them. He loves to talk and muse on how things could be. How things should be. She loves to agree, his ideals often times finding a snug fit next to her own despite the difference in presentation. Amaris nods. "They will. I'm sure of it." He eyes her with a mix of amusement and disbelief at her confidence in them. A subtle hum is his reply before his gaze moves to the sun in the sky. It is a bright summer afternoon sun, one that is want to sap the energy from even the strongest of soldiers who may boast the protection of the Twelveswood's cover. "You'll join me for lunch, yes?" Alphinaud asks, his body already moving. Amaris' sun warmed skin heats up more in an instant. They've shared meals before but being asked feels exciting in an array of different shades and colors.
amaris and alphinaud plushies in front of the disney wonder cruise ship with lush mountains in the background
The bed, if you could even call it that, is not comfortable. The infirmary is all makeshift cots with walls of thick butcher's linen as a means to defend its patients from the winter cold. Despite how those trapped inside the flimsy walls may feel, the space does technically meet the minimum required traits for medical care at the site of a military counteroffensive. Amaris tries not to complain about it. She's not only alive, but she is hailed at the realm's savior and Hydaelyn's chosen. That should be more than enough. Should be. She thinks back to Thancred's words when they first met — that this work wasn't for well-to-do girls. As she feels a shiver run up her spine with nothing more than an itchy throw to protect her, she hates to admit he might not have been all wrong. Her parents have come around often to check on her, perhaps more than necessary for a body that is more tired than it is wounded. The chirurgeons have said as much despite their insistence at her care under their watch. It's appreciated even if she doesn't like the confinement. More so, she doesn't like feeling lonely.
an illustration of amaris and alphinaud in a semi state of undress. alphinaud is in his sage gear, sans blue overcoat (fanon interpretation). amaris is in a white cotton nightgown. they are embracing each other, sharing both of their first kisses. they are surrounded by a sharlayan inspired trim. around them are is the dialogue as follows: “I will see us to the crux of this battle.” “I will find us a sweet and mundane future after, and if one cannot be located I will forge it”
the spongebob meme but “alphinaud”
a screenshot from ellipsus that reads “alphinaud”
"Whatever else Eline..." Minfilia stops short on the name, sucking in a breath. "Whatever else she may have been, I choose to believe that it was her true self with whom I spoke then. She believed in our cause, and I am inclined to do the same." Her voice is resolute in her beliefs, as it always is when she chooses to speak. Amaris nods along, always an earnest student when it comes to the Antecedent — everything she says often carrying some element of a lesson far beyond the woman's years. Minfilia's unwavering confidence in the previous Flame Marshal only serves to remind Amaris of the sour taste lingering in her mouth. She could barely stomach the vitriolic spit of Illberd's words towards Roaille, but it was only made worse by the moral grandstanding that both he and Alphinaud had taunted her with. Her blood crawls as the scene replays in her mind, Alphinaud's words echoing against her skull. It was unnecessary. Roaille was wrong, this was undeniable, but Amaris could not even begin to understand how justice can truly be just when its champions cannot handle a simple arrest without turning to degradation. Her lips pull into a frown when she recalls how Alphinaud did not seem to be happy when she made that observation in real time.
amaris and alphinaud plushies in front of the disney wonder funnel
Alphinaud Leveilleur considers himself a smart person. He knows he is a smart person. So smart, in fact, that his brilliance extends to his choice in something as seemingly simple as companions. In the world of politics, it is always wise to ally yourself with those who can best serve your cause — those whose ideals align with your own. His eyes flicker to Amaris, makeshift Starlight decorations in her hands, and he wonders if companion is the correct word for her. The title Warrior of Light, semi-recently transfixed to her name, is undoubtedly fitting. She wears it well. Humble, good-natured, and bright wrapped in a natural selflessness. She almost seems to good to be true, both to the people of Eorzea and to himself. As the Rising Stones morphs from a comfortable quiet into a crescendo of celebration (In no small thanks to his timely procurement of the finest Starlight dinner ingredients he could buy on short notice), he ponders her like one does the mathematics behind arcanima. She defended the realm from the Ultima Weapon as Garlemald encroached on their boarders with not one complaint. As if that were not admirable enough, mere sennights after — without hesitation — she ventured forth into the depths of the shattered shards of Dalamud at his sister's request.
Her neck is stiff - unyielding in the dull pain that permeates the tendons at each turn of her head. Despite the celebrating all around her, most would say that the reasonable response to such a feeling would to be to excuse herself to her quarters. It is far too late for any respectable young lady to be awake or that is at least what Thancred has said. She, however, has refused to go to bed multiple times with a polite insistence that she wants to stay up until the sunrise just like everyone else. She meant it, too. Unwavering in her decision all the way up until the moment she noticed Alphinaud had excused himself from the common area for his own well deserved respite. After that, she decided that staying up didn't seem all that appealing. Barely half a bell passes and with what she considers a expertly formed false yawn, she finds her way down the dim corridors of the Rising Stones to the small pocket of the building she calls her own. When the door closes, the excitement of the evening closes with it. As she comes down from it all, her hand instinctively comes up to massage at the muscles connecting her nape to her shoulder. How did she end up straining her neck anyways?
amaris and alphinaud (set in their ARR looks) holding a sign that reads “Happy Twinwol Week 2026”. amaris has a bashful look on her face while alphinaud has a sort of smug smile on his face.
a gpose of a roegadyn/hyur woman (mharwyb) and i miqote woman (loonh gah). it is dark out, under the cover of night. the two women are by a campfire that still is burning bright. loonh is on her knees between mharwyb’s legs, pulling her into a kiss by the back of the head. loonh’s face is obscured by the angle, her mask held gently in her free hand. mharwyb is leaning into the kiss, a simper on her face + a light blush. partly obscured is mharwybs free hand holding on to loonh’s upper arm
an ellipsus snippet that reads: His back straightens as the word flashes in his mind. Friend. She is his friend. Not the polite term of "friend" that is used with no meaning behind it, but a true friend. Someone you can rely on. Someone you can trust. Someone he wants to spend time with. He has had "friends" before. Ones who came over to his home after classes only to go slack jawed at the expansive nature of his family's estate. The occasional girl (or three) that hung on his every word from the moment the name "Leveilleur" left his lips. That was the type of "friendship" he was accustomed to outside of one persistent senior during his time at the Studium. Friendship like this — the one he shares with Amaris — feels vulnerable. It feels nice, not that he would ever admit it.
a screenshot of ellipsus with the text “The bed is not comfortable —“
amaris and alphinaud plushies in front of many hibiscus!
amaris and alphinaud plushies in front of a blue sky and tall green mountains. the sun is shining
my hand holding alphinaud and amaris plushies in front of the ocean at aulani in hawaii
a close up of alphinaud’s face surrounded by hearts. he is bashful as he looks off to the side
amaris and alphinaud in swim wear at an undisclosed beach location (it’s costa del sol but dont worry about that right now). he is holding her piggy back style, looking back at her over his shoulder with a bashful smile. amaris has her arms around his shoulders as she smiles brightly at him
a graphic of amaris (a ffxiv warrior of light) in different outfits outfit one: pre-scions attire that is a brown and white dress similar to that of aurora's briar rose attire from sleeping beauty outfit two: scions (standard) that is a canvas tabard with leather details and a chainmail undershirt outfit three: thanalan disguise that is a battered and tattered burlap look outfit four: scions (cold weather) that is the same as standard but with a brown cape and leather gloves
"Have you ever kissed anyone?" She asks and it is nothing but genuine. For the first time since they met, he lies. "Yes, a few times." The words feel like coals on his tongue, and he almost wishes he could take them back. Almost. Amaris nods at this, and her lips open only to close nearly instantly. "Why do you ask?" He asks her, barely holding back the anticipation in his tone. "It's very silly." She repeats. "It is not." The words slip from his lips faster than he can catch them. "I..."' Amaris begins. "If he does kiss me, I don't want to be unprepared." She begins, and Alphinaud nods along as if she is explaining battle tactics against the most vicious of enemies. "So maybe... if you were okay with it...you could show me?" Her eyes look anywhere but his, and despite the way she dances around the topic, he can't help but push it. "Show you?" His voice is breathless and he feels his heart half way in his throat. "Show me how to...you know...kiss?" She spits it out and he swears he can feel the heat radiating off her cheeks more than the fireplace next to them.
a highly edited image of amaris' face put over the dog with a lollypop and a propeller hat. everything is blue. she is in hydaelyn's blue soup
a hand holding alphinaud and fourchenault plushies in front of a monitor
a fourchenault plushie in front of a collection of alphinaud merch
a picture of magearna
amaris in a render-style. she stands with her arms in front of her, clasped, as she smiles at the camera bashfully
a recreation of an official ARR poster with my warrior of light, amaris added in. amaris holds her wrist as she looks at the camera bashfully. on her right is minfilia who has her hand on her chest as she looks at the camera. on her right is y’sthola who holds both of her hands over her chest. above her is urianger who is looking off to the side. next to him is alisaie who is back to back with alphinaud. he is standing with a balled fist looking the other direction. above alphinaud is louisoix looking off to the distance. below him is thancred who is also looking off to the side. below him is papalymo with his hands on his hips as he looks to the side towards yda. yda is next to him standing straight
a screenshot from a timeline that reads: 3U/31/02/7AE A scholar to the last, Archon Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn sacrifices her life to defeat Ascian Nabriales.
"Dealin' with these Garlean bastard's would be a lot easier without the damn scalekin trying to make us their dinner." The sound of a passing Immortal Flame's voice rips Amaris from her thoughts. It is this second mention of the beasts that litter the landscape of Northern Thanalan that causes the guilt in her stomach to flare. Moenbryda is out there alone and yet she continues to sit in the safety of Camp Bluefog awaiting word of what she is supposed to do next — a kind command that inevitably always follows the last of the many before the it. The guilt that sits at a stable simmer in her gut questions her mind in ways she is afraid to face. Did Midgardsormr take away your spirit along side Hydaeyln's blessing? Did the hero's heart grow dim in the guts of the Agrius mechanics and the Father of Dragon's blood? Amaris wants to debate just how helpful she would be should she run carelessly to her side. Yda's complimentary words regarding Moenbryda's skills with her axe support one side while the multiple Immortal Flames concerned words support the other.
"Alphinaud?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, the dwindling crackles of the fireplace in front of them far louder than she could be under the circumstances. It's been one singular sunrise since the day they arrived at Camp Dragonhead, yet it feels that their escape from Ul'dah was over a sennight ago. "Hm." It's a rotten noise that escapes from his lips. Muffled by the palm of his hand, it serves to amplify the guilt that seeps from his very essence. "When I was little, before the Calamity, my parents and I often traveled through Coerthas to visit my family." She began, the tone light as her eyes stared at the flames. "I remember what Coerthas looked like then. It was almost as green as the Twelveswood, if you could even believe it." As she speaks, her eyes crinkle oh-so-slightly, and her lips pull upward just a touch. "And?" He replies — not malice or impatience — but with weariness. "When the Calamity struck, I can only imagine the feelings the people who lived here felt. One day, they lived amongst soft greenery and plentiful harvests. The next, they lived in what most say will be an eternal, unforgiving winter that nothing can grow in." Amaris continues, airy yet distinctly grounded. "Some people left Coerthas. They gave up and decided that it would be better to move somewhere easier. A place where they can be afforded every single comfort they had grown to need." She said before turning her body in whole to face him.
a black and white illustration of alphinaud climbing onto a balcony. amaris is holding him by the head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. they are surrounded by anemone flowers
a screenshot from a written timeline that reads: 3U/29/02/7AE After her attempts at treating with Midgardsormr, the Father of Dragons, Amaris Stiel's blessing of Light is stripped away from her.
a fanmade encyclopedia eorzea profile entry that reads. Name: Rixan Dailemont Quote: "A just world doesn't require anything more than being kind — to believe in the goodness of others whenever you can." A humble young man of even humbler means, Rixan has spent most of his twenty and nine summers aspiring to knighthood. Many have questioned his resolve, noting his parentage — a Hyuran mother and Elezen father — in their reasoning as to why he could not become more than he always has been. Rixan is one to ignore such statements, his noble heart sure that his time will come. In his work towards knighthood, Rixan serves as a custodian to the Temple Knights Hospitaliers. It is thankless work, yet he never wavers in his determination and diligence. While he does not yet bear the crest of the Holy See, it is his staunchest belief that a knight always lives to serve.
"A little girl too busy chasing a pompous brat of a boy who doesn't even want her." Ilberd's words cut deeper than the sting of the ropes against her wrists. "Maybe you would have seen this coming if it weren't for that." Tears well in her eyes and because of them, she can hardly tell if he looks at her with pity or disgust. His voice betrays neither. She doesn't hear the orders he barks at the other corrupted Braves. All she knows is that the bodies that once encircled her like vultures to a discarded carcass now depart to a task beyond her current comprehension. She does, however, feel a gloved hand ghost her ankle before its fingers find purchase on her calf. This is a feeling she not only comprehends but fears. A touch she has been warned to disengage from at all costs. She snatches her leg away in a flash, her body nearly tumbling to the ground on the process. "Don't touch me!" Ilberd merely laughs, a sick laugh straight from the diaphragm, as he dangles a spool of rope in front of her face. "I'm not interested in what you have to offer if that's what you think." He says as he yanks her back by the leg, pulling her ankles tight.
In the Rising Stones' late afternoon quiet, Yda's eyes tug towards the hand carved calendar propped perfectly upon Tataru's desk. One of the calendar's features is a small wooden circle, painted in pink, that can be moved to signity exactly which day it is. Assuming that Tataru had moved the circle already, which is most assuredly a smart guess, she finds that today of all days is the 5th of the 3rd Umbral Moon. Today is her nameday. Or it would be if she did not don her sister's well-loved garb and hard-earned Archon marks. Today is Lyse's nameday. Not Yda's. In the curious case of her, she finds it is hard to celebrate as either woman. Yda would have made a point to send a letter with a favored treat or three to Lyse so that her nameday was appropriately celebrated. Lyse would have made the journey from wherever she was to celebrate with her sister. Neither of these options are possible for them. Yda is dead, and Lyse scarcely exists in any way that truly matters. Yda wouldn't dwell on such a dismaying thought, so Lyse — under a mask both physical and psychological — chooses to do the same. She would have done well in her course, too, if it were not for the sound of Papalymo storming through the doors of their common space.
a screenshot of dialogue: Coph-coodg: In the beginning, the universe was but a tiny particle. Then suddenly, this particle began to expand. Having remained entirely in the bounds of your star, the phenomenon may be difficult for your kind to grasp, but this expansion has since continued unabated. Lah-laakh: Speculating that the universe could not grow indefinitely, we sought to learn what might occur ─ and made a worrying discovery. The stars will continue to spread apart, as will their finite thermal energies. Eventually, all heavenly bodies will grow cold and freeze. No new stars will be born, and the universe will enter unto an eternal ice age. Coph-coodg: In hopes of proving that this determination was erroneous, we scrutinized our research from all angles, even as we sought to avert the everlasting winter. The endeavor proved fruitless. So infamously so, in fact, that it became synonymous with vain effort. The universe as we know it would end, and there is no way to prevent it.
a portrait of g’raha tia in his crystal exarch era. his hair is down and he is simpering. he has WRINKLES….
a screenshot from a timeline chart that reads: 6U/16/01/7AE In the wake of Emperor Solus zos Galvus' death, a war of succession breaks out in Garlemald between Varis yae Galvus and Titus yae Galvus
amaris and alphinaud plushies in my hand as we drive up a mountain. there is a beautiful landscape and blue skies
By her tenth summer, Edda had taken a mental note of the wands the proud Conjurers of Stillglade Fane used in their work and, upon returning home, selected the nicest branch on her family's land to serve as her focus. There is much to be said of the precarious "wand" that rarely leaves her grip — more a stray branch than anything a real conjurer would use in their practice. One may believe that it is slap in the face to those who study the craft, others may note it as a testament to its wielder. As the years went on and more responsibilities found their way into Edda's possession, her once cherished branch had almost completely withered — the bark tender and quick to fall to dust at the lightest touch. Despite its place on her bedside table, Edda did not stop feeling magick within herself and all around her. It is in the loam beneath her boots as she helps her father in planting a crop they pray will bear fruit. It is in the winter breeze that travels from atop the clouds to windburn her skin. It is in the gentle rush of water that slips between her ankles when wading in the creek before returning to her work. The magick she knows is around her, makeshift wand or otherwise.
An audience with an Ishgardian dignitary somehow seems more daunting than the clash of steel against skin. Ishgardians are known for a great many things, paramount above all things is their propriety - their interest in doing things correctly and as expected. She fiddles with her dressing gown as a solemn look pulls at her features. She's afraid that she'll make a mistake that costs more than just the loss of a successful introduction. Sweeping her eyes from the floor to the mirror on her vanity, she sees herself. A picture of a perfectly normal sixteen year old girl. At a simple glance, one would consider her as such. Not a member of a not-so-secret organization. Not a blessed girl with a gift from a God. Not the Warrior of Light. Most would not think such roles for her based on appearance alone. She would not fault them for it. Alphinaud's words float through her mind like some sort of unintentional taunt. The man expressly requested your presence is what he had said, and since he did, she has been unable to think of naught else.