montblanc 🪝 @ estinien search party

@ofthethousandsongs.bsky.social

117 Followers 32 Following

'tis the story of a bard and their faithful knights ✦ 31 ✦ he/they 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 ✦ 7.5 spoilers ✦ ocean fishing my beloved 🎣 ffxiv side acc, main is @lufink 🌊 🎨 i: @pondcell h: @gigasourcils💛

A depiction of the crystal exarch without his hood, bleeding and looking quite pissed off
A depiction of Orpheus, an ancient miqo'te Azem playing a crystalline lyre
A depiction of a miqo wol playing the gittern!
A depiction of emet selch wearing his telltale mask and snapping his fingers, hiding a bloody knife behind his back
As he gazed upon the eerily floating ruins of the Churning Mists, Aymeric de Borel realized he was ignorant of many things—of that bygone time of peace betwixt man and wyrm, long forgotten and drowned in blood, and of the grief-stricken majesty of their abode everlasting amidst the clouds. He had no such time to take in the sights, however remarkable they were—and hoped the Fury would forgive him this sole indulgence. After weeks of travelling the Dravanian wilds with the Warrior of Light and their companions, setting up camp was simple enough. Each set to their appointed task—Alphinaud and Ysayle to the gathering of firewood and edible plants, and Moss to that of meat. Then would Aymeric endeavor to make a fine dinner of it all, whilst Montblanc told the tales of unsung heroes once everyone had returned.
A beautiful illustration of my miqo WoL Montblanc, a miqo WoL named Rose and Haurchefant made by rose💚
A beautiful depiction of my miqo'te wol Montblanc by kay💚
A screenshot of the following text: “We would gladly have you stay with us, Lord Aymeric, if you’d be amenable. I daresay it would do a world of good to some of us here present.” The dragoon pointedly ignored Thancred’s gaze—’twas best not to wonder who else among the Scions had seen through him as well, but by the Fury did he hope Tataru and Krile had not—and focused on Aymeric instead, who seemed to mull over what had been said. Estinien would not let him go without a fight—less so the fabled Warrior of Light, who beat him to it before he had even opened his mouth to speak. “Please, Aymeric,” the bard implored, as if his name had been that of a god, deserving of the utmost reverence—and it was a low blow, to use their silver tongue so. “Stay.” How could he refuse them, when faced with such a heartfelt plea? “Aye,” the Lord Commander answered after a moment, setting Estinien’s heart aflutter as he uttered this simple word. “I shall.”
A portrait of Moss's mother, Vencanja, a Hrothgar woman of imposing stature
Portraits of Montblanc's family: Loetwyb, a fierce roe woman who raised the enfants terribles below R'nara, a red-haired miqo with a penchant for troublemaking Griaffeux, a soft-spoken elezen with long pastel purple hair Jasper, a fem aligned nb menace with bright blue eyes
A colorful depiction of artorias from dark souls
Detail of the miqo WoL playing music!
A depiction of the hw camping trip party: the WoL, Alphy, Ysayle, Estinien and a FFXIV viera oc listening to the WoL playing music and (some) falling / already asleep
And so unnamed his feelings for him had remained, to better conceal them, for fifteen long years—since one morning that rose upon most of their squadron laying dead in the snow, the weary survivors led out of the Coerthan wilds by Aymeric, yet to be Lord Commander but lacking neither in commanding presence nor resourcefulness, a hallowed vision made manifest as the sun piercing through the fog alighted his unwavering figure guiding them towards salvation—and would have for many more, had Estinien not been blissfully allowed this second chance at life. He would not squander it—and kissed him right there, unconcerned to do so in front of so many people, the hand not supporting the Warrior of Light grasping at the back of Aymeric’s neck and at his hair, dark curls coiling around his gauntlet. And, oh, the way Aymeric kissed him back, with a fervor akin to devotion—it silenced all of his doubts, all of his fears, leaving but love enduring to fill his heart as air would needs fill his lungs. As they parted for breath, Aymeric grinned at him, at Montblanc the dragoon still held in-between them—ere long kissing them with the same dedication, till the bard had Estinien next melt against their lips in turn, and back again—and his heart fluttered and swelled and roared in his breast.
A depiction of Haurchefant and an elezen wol embracing each other
A screenshot of the following text: From the robes and masks they donned, he had however surmised they were the Ancients he had heard quite a lot about. The one sporting a red mask, in particular, must have been Emet-Selch; he who had robbed Montblanc of the Thousand Songs of their voice, an equivalent exchange so that he could save Moss, and expose their lies in so doing. Estinien could not feel an once of compassion for him, but the manner with which the bard had spoken of him tempered his misgivings. In saying their goodbyes, Emet-Selch had kissed Montblanc on the lips in a chaste gesture of affection, and the dragoon had to remind himself of his harsh training—of the discipline it had imposed on him—when he yet carried his Eye. He had never been the jealous type, with escapades of his own and the peculiar way his heart had ever worked—but for once in his life Estinien had to fight the urge to keep the bard away from that man, who in his ageless grief had made them suffer unnecessarily so.
A sticker design featuring Estinien in his summer outfit gnawing on a strip of dried squid
A depiction of Aymeric gladly embracing Estinien and a miqo'te wol
A depiction of an elezen oc named Hadelin Guilledoux (a menace)
a chibi depiction of montblanc, a miqo'te wol
A screenshot of the following words: Would that it could have been otherwise; but Estinien had borrowed this life he owed long enough. “I would have followed you to the end,” he whispered, and hoped those simple words would convey all that he felt for them, all that he had ever left unsaid. “I shall help you spread your wings instead.” Estinien came nearer, the space between them narrowing to the beating of their hearts. “Pray tell Aymeric all that I could not tell him myself.” he said at last, laying but the ghost of a kiss on Montblanc’s lips afore fading into naught, a faint breeze blowing in his and Ysayle’s stead.
Emet-Selch with his ancient mask, a bloody dagger behind his back, snapping
A screenshot on which the following text can be read: In the early hours of morning did the heat of the moment slowly give room to a gentle embrace---the three of them entangled together, eyes filled with only the purest adoration, going from one to the other, and back again. At last Estinien spoke, his voice nary much more than a whisper. "I have been an idiot, haven't I?" Chuckles rang clear in the space between them, and none could mistake the fondness it carried for anything else. "Aye," replied Aymeric, one hand fondling with the dragoon's hair at the back of his neck, while the other ran circles on Montblanc's waist. "That you have been indeed." It had taken years, to allow themselves to be loved in such manner---the Fury willing, they would live many more to make up for it all.
Mr Estinien Wyrmblood clad in his crimson armor, pierced by an arrow and a dagger, in a St Sebastian famous pose
A sketch of Estinien carrying a very small Montblanc so they can be hugged by Aymeric
Aymeric tightly embracing a miqo'te Wol and Estinien, a small tear on his smiling face