Day 3 - Tempest

Day 3 - Tempest

"The sails! THE SAILS!"

The Maelstrom occupied ship was a flurry of motion, rain beating down on the deck, wind whipping through the sails, and sailors sprinting from one end of the ship to the other, tying down ropes, pulling at the sails, doing everything they could to get the ship ready for the sudden storm they were forced into. Bryn was at the rear of the ship, standing with the captain on the quarterdeck, a frown on the sixteen year old's face as he watched the Garlean flying machines peel off from their attack runs, the winds too strong for them to continue following the ship. A small mercy for the mess they had just forced them into.

Behind him, he heard the creak of wood, the flap of furling sails, and the sound of wooden oars running out into the water from below deck. He turned back, the wind beating against his face and body, soaking through his already dripping pants and coat, striding across the swaying deck with the ease of a practiced sailor...despite it being his literal first storm. Grabbing the railing beside the young captain piloting the ship, hanging on to the helm wheel as he barked orders to men far his senior, but just as with the trip over, they all listened, just with a new sense of urgency now that a storm was upon them.

Well, most listened.

As the ship lilted to the side, sending a few sailors skidding across the deck until they could grab onto something, halting their progress towards the perilous sea, a wave breaking over the deck and drenching everyone on the lower deck. Including those huddled against and tied to the main mast. They were praying, even a few of the Maelstrom soldiers that Bryn had fought alongside hours earlier, screaming and crying and begging Llymlaen for mercy, to calm the seas, to save their boat. The black haired kid, barely old enough to swing an axe well, scowled, knowing full well that for every man or woman tied to those masts, the ship was down a pair of hands. Which prompted him to turn to the captain and yell over the rain and thunder to him.

"Where do you need me?" The look he got was one of annoyance, at first, before the captain recognized the red of his Maelstrom uniform, and his eyes turned thankful, taking a hand off the helm to point towards the foremast.

"We have to keep the sails up! If they unfurl in this wind, it will rip the mast right out of the deck! Then we are-"

"-dead in the water!" Bryn finished, the fresh faced teen nodding, and adjusting the axe on his back, already eying the sail that was unfurling halfway up the mast, nodding to the captain. "I'll deal with that one!"

"Ye better, if you want to live through this!" Always encouraging to hear, he thought dryly, and wiped the rain from his face as another crack of lightening split the heavens above. Slogging down the steps from the quarterdeck, another wave broke over the main deck, a terrified scream filling the air, and he could do nothing but hold onto the stair rail as he watched an unprepared sailor get swept to sea, his crewmates howling his name in fear as he was swallowed by the waves. His boots suddenly felt like lead, his hand white knuckled on the railing as he stared at the main deck, the few sailors still down there scrambling to tie off, to try and survive, forgoing their duties as he saw the captain start to lash down the helm wheel at center, preparing too for the inevitable.

Bryn had to move.

He had to get his feet moving and move.

His gaze lifted to the foremast, staring at the flapping sail, and took a another step down as fear clawed up in his throat-

Blinding light, a crack, BOOM, and splinters peppered the deck, sailor and Maelstrom alike howling in fear and pain, Bryn recoiling and landing hard on the stairs, blinking the flashing lights out of his eyes as he stared at his target. Or where his target had existed moments before.

Now, a creaking, charred, and slowly falling foremast stood, struck by lightening, ropes whipping in the wind, starting to drag itself out of the deck and towards the sea as the ship tilted dangerously with it.

After the fact, Bryn would swear he didn't remember it, but those who where tied to the main mast did. The remembered watching the burly child - a child! - sprint across the swaying deck, barreling through a crashing wave, unslinging his axe and cutting through a giant kraken tentacle, and with one swing, cleared the foremast like chopping a tree, and saved the ship! Mayhap it happened, mayhap it didn't, or maybe there really was only one embellished fact about the entire thing. But when the ship limped back into the safe harbor of Limsa Lominsa, the captain had personally requested to speak to the Maelstrom officer for the expedition.

"He saved the ship, you know." Shaky fingers were packing a pipe, and even shaker tried to strike a match, until the Maelstrom officer struck it for him, and lit the Captain's pipe. "Thanks." He took a deep drag from his pipe, and slowly blew it out, gaze flicking to the young man as he stood at attention a short way away with the remainder of his squad. "That young man...he's brave."

"Or foolish," the officer rumbled out, crossing his arms. The captain jerked his gaze back, glaring at the Maelstrom officer, and slowly shook his head.

"Do you know what the difference between foolishness and bravery is?" He tapped his pipe out, cleaning the half smoked tobacco and looking the officer in the eye. "Fear. Him? He was brave." And he turned, yelling at the repair crew already combing over his ship to "hurry up and get her sea worthy! We've got Garlean ships to raid!"

Reblog this if it’s okay to DM you and shoot the friendship shot.

Day 11 - Surrogate

“You want me to do what?”

Bryn’s face was a mask of displeasure, his silver eyes dull and hiding whatever emotion boiled behind them, his arms crossed over his chest as Y’shtola held up his old Maelstrom uniform, casting her careful eye over it as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I - no, we want you to go stand in as an honorary Sergeant with the Maelstrom for a week or two.” Her voice was calm, matter of fact, collected and with little room for argument, but it didn't stop Bryn from growling softly in frustration.

“No.”

She dropped her arms with a sigh, giving him a scornful look as his old uniform pooled on the floor at her feet, now crossing her own arms as she stared up at him. “Brynhorn Fiske, you knew that this would be a potential ask when you agreed to join the Scions. Why are you so against this?”

“You know why,” he shot back, his silver gaze flaring, and dying down, his face twisting into…trepidation. “I'm not ready.” His voice was soft, distant, and Y’shtola's posture shifted, away from that of a scholarly teacher scolding an unruly student, to that of an understanding friend and confidant.

“Ah, you worry about…” she trailed off, not wanting to voice it, the curse or blessing that plagued the large Hyur, her eyes softening as she brushed back a lock of her white hair. “I get that, truly, but Bryn…we need information about where we stand with the Grand Companies. We are a budding group, and without Louisoix’s connections…”

There was a twinge there, that both of them felt, that empty feeling of the person who had stood so close to Louisoix before the fall of Dalamud, that neither could remember now. That emptiness haunted them both, and left Bryn’s hand curling into a fist. “I get it,” he growled out again, his gaze turning to meet hers finally. “But you yourself said -”

“- that your control is tenuous, yes, but it is control.” She gave him a knowing smile, and gestured to him. “Even right now, when you're mad at me, you aren't in danger of shifting.”

“Because I would never hurt you.” Words, so easily spoken, without thinking, even knowing it would hurt and soothe. He saw her shudder, and turn away, and nod to the corner of the room, anywhere but at him.

“I know you won't,” she said quietly, “but…please, not right now. Not with -”

“I didn't mean -”

“I know you didn't.” She turned back, met his gaze, and smiled softly, but it never reached those beautiful teal eyes. “I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you could do it.” The subtle shift away from that broken bond, and Bryn could only nod, and this time, he turned away, to hide the pain in his eyes as he gritted his teeth.

“Fine.” It was all he could muster, and he heard her bend and pick up his uniform, holding it out.

“You'll make a fine surrogate for the Scions, Bryn. I know you will.” He couldn't meet her gaze fully as he took his uniform, and felt like he was drowning as he held the red fabric in his hands once more, the scar of Dalamud’s fall still fresh in his mind as he turned his back on her, and steeled himself for actually having to put it back on.

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

Heh?

What?

HUH?!

...It's been a year!?!

My mind has been blown...

Well, here is to many more!

Ask List of Hypothetical OC Situations.

Your OC has their fortune read and the portents are distinctly ominous...

Your OC slips over on icy ground in front of a crowd - it doesn't hurt much, but it's very public.

Your OC unexpectedly wins a prize in a competition or quiz.

Your OC has a nightmare or bad dream and wakes up others by calling out involuntarily.

Your OC orders food in an inn or restaurant and it arrives cold and (to be honest) not what they actually ordered...

Your OC discovers that an acquaintance - who they view positively, but have no romantic feelings towards - has a massive crush on them.

Your OC must buy (or otherwise obtain) a new and decidedly fancy outfit for a high society event.

Your OC is handed a baby to hold whilst their parent attends to an emergency.

Your OC is out in the wilds and needs to make camp for the night.

Your OC is introduced to someone who they have clearly met before and cannot remember their name in the slightest.

Your OC is alone in a supposedly haunted building or abandoned ruin.

Your OC is teased regarding something that they actually feel very sensitive about.

Your OC receives a mysterious letter accusing a close friend or lover of wrongdoing - or perhaps even something truly heinous.

Your OC is walking along the street and someone runs into them accidentally and apologises.

Your OC is gifted an outfit or costume that is really rather risqué - if not outright brazen.

Your OC has already eaten and is very full, but is offered a generous meal by a hospitable friend they do not wish to offend.

Your OC is called upon to tell a joke or funny story.

Your OC is challenged to contest of strength or skill by someone of surpassing arrogance.

Your OC is approached by a friend or acquaintance in need of advice in matters of romance - or even sexual intimacy.

Your OC loses something important to a partner or close friend - perhaps something of great sentimental value or simply very expensive.

Your OC is doing a silly, and distinctly unflattering impression, of someone they know, when that person walks in on their performance.

Your OC is asked to lead the first dance at a sophisticated society event or party.

Your OC encounters a beggar or panhandler who requests some money to relieve their many hardships - their story seems genuine, but something feels off...

Your OC is asked by a friend or acquaintance if their new outfit (or armour as the case may be) looks good on them. It really really doesn't...

Your OC is bathing naked - perhaps under a waterfall or in a stream - when a stranger interupts them.

Your OC is asked to make a speech or read a poem at a wedding or funeral.

Your OC stubs their toe and it really hurts.

Your OC is travelling by boat or carriage and a stranger falls asleep on their shoulder.

Your OC is getting into bed when there is a sudden (and very insistent) knocking on their door.

Your OC is lost in a gloomy forest and it's starting to get dark.

Your OC wakes up with a thumping headache and no clear memories of what happened the night before.

Your OC is being lectured, or possibly even scolded, by someone in a position of authority.

Your OC has found something funny and cannot, literally cannot, stop laughing.

Your OC discovers that a rather straitlaced and reserved friend or acquaintance has secret and rather shocking habit, interest or kink.

Your OC finds a lost child in the marketplace or commercial district.

Your OC is training or sparring and someone compliments them.

Your OC is mistaken for a servant or domestic by a rather haughty individual of high social standing.

Your OC is forced, due to a series of unforeseen events, to borrow a set of clothes from a friend or acquaintance that is very far from their usual style.

Your OC discovers that they have a fan club - or at least a following of devoted admirers.

Your OC is watching someone attempt to do something at which they are extremely capable. However the person they are watching really isn't...

Your OC is in company when a remark is made about a race or nation of people that is, at best unkind and inaccurate, and at worst downright bigoted.

Your OC is watching a stage performance by a clown or magician and is called up to the stage in the name of audience participation...

Your OC and a close friend are sharing a room, but there is only one bed. A reasonably-sized bed, but definitely only the one.

Your OC is called upon to recount an embarrassing or comic incident in which they have been involved.

Your OC finds a wallet or coinpurse dropped on the street - a very full one with a lot of money in it.

Your OC goes to the baths or spa in a new city and discovers it is very much communal.

Your OC attends a memorial service or funeral and is asked, unexpectedly, to say a few words about the deceased.

Your OC accidentally breaks the law - or perhaps does so in order to achieve some higher aim - and is challenged by the authorities.

Your OC is gifted some rather racy underwear or beachwear by an admirer or partner.

Your OC finds something they though had been lost forever long ago - perhaps a letter from a friend, a picture of a family member or a souvenir of a even many years before.

I have just become aware that Tumblr will actually show you how many seconds ago a post was made.

I think I'm too fast on the like button.