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|| for ffxivwrite 2021.
10. heady.
fleeting, warm bliss in banter and intoxicating laughter.
a snapshot of two lovers in an ishgard of summers past.
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- Part 4 of ffxivwrite
- Language:
- English
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- 563
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- 1/1
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somewhere in the firmament, a man dreams.
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|| collection for ffxivwrite 2020.
3. muster.
soul's haunted.
fray and ardbert come face to face.
Series
- Part 3 of ffxivwrite
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this is the part that matters: there's red daisies in his hair. they're in the chapel, waiting for the bells to ring out. they're very nervous. listen to the part that matters.
(to the seven hells and beyond with formalities, they say, bending the rules til just before they break. it's perfect in every way.)
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- Part 2 of plucking daisies (i do, i do.)
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if you'll be my star, he recalls, from letters they'd shared out on the frontier, i'll be your sky. And yet, Janlenoux was the one who felt afloat, drowning in light, light, powdered and soft, shaping their universe with gentle hands; Caught in the orbit of a son of the cosmos, of celestial beauty, lost in the constellations scattered across the freckles on the bridge of Adelphel's nose.
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i can still remember your laughter. by azureforest
Fandom: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
27 Apr 2016
- Words:
- 2,161
- Works:
- 2
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Summary
Grinnaux knows that returning to Ishgard was no longer possible. Not while the Warrior of Light was still crowned its champion; not while the Lord Commander and his second-in-command knew who they were; not even while his own family mourned his death in the Pillars.
(When he left that Allagan derelict, only Paulecrain followed.)
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In another life where Ferndale never burned, Estinien Varlineau lives a simple life as a shepherd. One day after a distant battle with the Dravanians goes wrong, he stumbles on an injured knight and has no choice but to nurse him to health, unsuspecting of just how profoundly the stranger will touch his heart in return.
Bookmarked by azureforest
28 May 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
MEN LOVING MEN. MEN LOVING MEN. MEN LOVING MEN. MEN L
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It had not been so many moons since Guydelot had last found himself charging recklessly to rescue Sanson, but unlike those moons ago, Guydelot had no leverage here; no assurance that Sanson would remain unharmed, even for a little time. There were no bargaining chips for soldiers on the battlefield.
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The swordsman had shouldered Estinien onto the ground, onto his back, and he bore down on Estinien with his shield to keep him there. The swordsman demanded victory. “I have you in the dirt,” he said. “Yield to me.” Aymeric craned his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, out of line with the gazes of everybody else who wanted to see the spectacle in full. He strained to see Estinien’s face, his reaction underneath his fellow knight. He watched Estinien cant his head like a falcon and crease his own cheek by frowning in thought.
“He did not like hearing that,” Aymeric said to himself, still angled toward Estinien--the whole shape of him, his body toward Estinien, his line of sight, his thoughts and his faith. Estinien would triumph here. The swordsman’s mistake had been to open his mouth.
--
FFXIVWrite 2021 prompt 16, "Crane".
Bookmarked by azureforest
28 Apr 2022
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By the time his father died, Estinien had only learned to whittle the approximate shape of a boar. He was, in other words, the poorest whittler in Ferndale--or so he had huffed to his father, through the kind of anguish that hurts the throat.
Bookmarked by azureforest
24 Apr 2022