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shadowbringers
shadowbringers |
beneath the stars It's been a week since our newest expansion officially launched! And, I know, I know... some of you already have a lot of feelings that you need to air out. But canon updating in your games is a struggle! And so is finding PSL partners! Luckily, that's what we're here for.This is a post for you to play out all the Shadowbringers-related content you might be dying to write. Behind-the-scenes nonsense? Between-the-scenes angst? It's all welcome here! 1. Toplevel your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops. 2. Reply to other people's top levels! 3. Have fun! ⚔ Please clearly mark all spoilers in your thread subject lines. Clearly indicate whatever spoiler preferences you may have. We're only a week into the expansion, officially, and there's no shame if you're not far in it or haven't started it yet. ⚔ You are welcome to play characters who are new to Shadowbringers. However, please try to avoid topleveling with icons and descriptions that convey major plot-related spoilers. If you aren't certain about a character's playability, feel free to PM ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small} parser. |
TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs
valoirs
aster arkwright ✦ warrior of light
ardbert would be pretty cool)no subject
it's not like ardbert's the one who banished the light looming over the crystarium's skies, anyway.
still... despite all his encounters with the fabled warrior of light-turned-darkness, he was never really prepared for this particular scene.]
Are you...going to be all right with that?
[he eyes the massive pile of white oak logs accumulating by aster's feet. the man's still tirelessly gathering even more. every practiced swing of the axe suggests innumerable hours as a botanist. everyone had told aster to take a break from the monster-slaying after his hard work so far, but...]
no subject
well, most of the time they aren't trying to kill you, anyway.
so it's better.
in any case, aster doesn't respond right away. the weather in kholusia isn't nearly as hot or as dry as the arid deserts of thanalan, but hard labor is hard labor, and he has to mop sweat off his brow and neck with his sleeve before he feels decent enough to respond.]
All right with what?
[there's any number of things ardbert could be asking about, he thinks. being the warrior of darkness, maybe; the exarch's impassioned plea; anything alphinaud and alisaie have said. the last thing on aster's mind is the impressive pile of white oak beside him.]
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When your friends ordered you off to rest, I think they meant going to bed proper, not this.
[maybe he sounds a little exasperated. but also, how could he not? even he's grown invested in aster's well-being, despite his animosity when he'd first gone to the source. it feels like so long ago that renda-rae had made a show of being the one to nearly kill one of aster's friends. so long ago when ardbert had personally tried to strike aster down, as though a single decisive swing of his axe would fix all of the first's festering troubles.
he moves to carry some of the logs himself—only for his hand to pass through. as if to further illustrate the absurdity of aster's log count, ardbert steps into the pile, and watches as half his body promptly disappears into the stacks of wood.]
no subject
The beds in the Crystarium are a bit softer than I'm used to.
[he can't touch ardbert, either, but aster reaches out and pretends to clap ardbert on the shoulder. his fingers don't quite make contact, of course; it's the gesture that counts.]
I'll be fine, Ardbert. I'll borrow a cart from one of the farmers here.
[another shrug, and he lets his arm drop.]
The wood's for their use, anyhow.
no subject
[the small gesture does bring the slightest twitch to ardbert's lips. with his own point made, ardbert steps out of the pile of wood and comes to stand beside it. he's reminded of the small little errands he'd been sent on when he first began as an adventurer—mundane things like the log-gathering that aster's doing. it makes him nostalgic for those old days, when his greatest priority was just a matter of who he could help next, rather than the greater context of the balance of light and dark.]
If it helps, I'll keep a lookout for sin eaters when you're transporting it.
[he casts a gaze out to the landscape, but thankfully, there are no sin eaters nearby. still, his expression has gone sober.]
Think Eulmore will keep being a pain? As things stand, the farmers in these parts... There may not be much time left for them.
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I know. A handful of new fences aren't going to keep the sin eaters out, either.
[all the same, he turns back to the tree he was logging, and aims a new strike of his hatchet, grunting under his breath as the metal edge strikes wood.]
From what the Exarch says — [one more strike, one more quiet huff of breath] — war between the Crystarium and Eulmore is probably inevitable. And — [another hollow thunk] — some of the people here... They might die in the crossfire.
[a nearly-perfect white oak log breaks clean from the tree, thanks to aster's efforts; with a heave from his arms, so like ardbert's own except metaphysically solid, he rolls the log into place beside its brethren, forming an even stack of two dozen.]
But it's just...
[the source's champion pushes his bangs back as far as they will go. most of his hair bounces back into place, but maybe it tidies up aster's vision just a little bit.]
When you were a hero, Ardbert, and you realized you'd never be able to save everyone — what did you think? How did you feel?
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still, aster has never stricken ardbert as the type to ask cruel questions for sadistic reasons. it's that knowledge that has ardbert pensive instead of anguished.]
I was angry, of course. My friends and I—we all slew ourselves, that our souls might reach the Source. Even that was a final resort. We reasoned that if by some chance, our efforts could spare even a few souls in the First... Perhaps all that we've done would not have been for naught.
[he gives a little shrug. he's had a long time to compartmentalize his feelings. not that it had entirely worked, but the eternity he feels like he's spent walking has at least given him some semblance of blasé poise.]
Not that it matters, when all we did was usher in the end of the world all the faster. I don't suppose it was like that for you. It's one thing to fail to save everyone. And another, to know you are the direct catalyst to the greatest threat in your world.
no subject
heroes die, and aster knows that well. if they don't die on the battlefield, they die in times of peace, when no one cares enough to remember them anymore.
that's not ardbert's problem, though, and aster looks pensive for a moment before he sits on the edge of one of his logs, looking as though whatever he planned to say has gotten stuck in his throat. he looks down, blue gaze falling into his lap, and then he looks up at ardbert again.]
...No, it wasn't like that for me. But you... you didn't do anything wrong, Ardbert. You worked with the outcomes and the choices you were given.
[he's not sure if this helps at all, really. maybe this will only make ardbert all the more angry — a resentful ghost spitting curses in aster's ear. but he's prepared to accept that outcome.]
Given the same circumstances, I might have wound up the same way.
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[it isn't bitterness in his voice, just a sort of weary acceptance. ardbert's spent enough time with aster to wind up doing far too much thinking for his own good, mulling over aster's choices in comparison to his own. logically, there's some degree of luck in how things have turned out, but it's hard not to shake the feeling that if he had done anything different at all, there could have been a ripple effect that changed everything.
wishful thinking.]
You've a point though. [the smile that touches his lips isn't as grim as it could be.] I tried to do what I could. And I'm still here, despite it all, so perhaps I still have some use.
If anything, it's good you didn't. Of all people to wind up over here in the First, I'm glad it was you. [his gaze shifts, making a sweep over the nearby farmlands.] Even if we can't save everyone... We have to do what we can.
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[his voice is soft. maybe ardbert hasn't quite heard what he was trying to say; maybe that's his own fault, but in any case, a hundred years of misery isn't going to be wiped clean in a day. it's the sort of thing you have to tackle one chip at a time.
so saying, aster rises to his feet, dusting splinters and stray pieces of wood from his thighs; then he stretches, arching his back like a cat though he's standing. when he's finished, he rolls his neck this way and that, surveying the landscape for passing beasts and sin eaters.]
Now, then... best of us to find that cart. A hammer and some nails, too, maybe. Those fences aren't going to mend themselves, huh?
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Except this one.]
In need of something to do with those hands of yours?
[You don't just stand around for long in this city. Even if you are a guest of the Crystal Exarch.]
mild 72 spoiler (?)
...my hands get plenty of work as it is might be just vague enough to not win him a chakram to the face.
but he's a good man, mostly, so he's not going to say anything too strange. lyna seems like exactly the kind of overly-rigid and disciplined individual who is therefore fun to tease, but they don't know each other well enough for aster to feel comfortable saying anything like that, and he's not going to toe the line in a strange new world. he clears his throat, awkwardly taps one foot against the ground.
he'll just tease urianger about his weight later.]...Just came to drop off a delivery for some Miqo — Mystel lad. Wound up looking at the way they do alchemy around here.
[gradually, the tension eases from his face, and he turns to look at lyna with an expression that might border gentle.]
The Exarch's a good man, isn't he?
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He is indeed. The very best.
[With a nod absent her tendency to sharpness. Following that, she takes in the botanists and potion-brewers at work herself, never quite losing the air of standing at attention.]
He's given us all we need and more to build a home in what remains of this world, at no small cost. It hasn't been easy.
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How'd you meet him? Or — no, that's not the right question.
[if he's as long-lived as he says he is, surely he's been around since she was a girl?]
How'd you get into this work?
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The Exarch took me in when I was a girl. [She isn't reluctant to share this, exactly, not with someone who knows the man so well. It's just...] When the time came, I thought it best to defend the place I call home. Same as most of the rest of the Guard.
[In some ways, it's a home she helped build with her own hands, and one she thought she'd like as not die defending with them, too.]
I could ask you the same questions.
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If you asked him, I suppose he might say... we played a game, and I won.
[something close to a smile plays about aster's lips when he says that, but he closes his eyes as if to hold fast to the memory, and doesn't elaborate.]
As for my work, I just happened to fall into it. And, admittedly, I believe in helping others when I can.
figuring post-71 dungeon is okay
As much skill as she has for making her voice fill a room with its orders, so too can she clip it to only the space between the two of them - though it's no less firm. She won't be overheard unless someone jostles by close enough to touch.]
You just fell into the sort of thing that happened at Holminster Switch?
[But she isn't really looking for a direct answer there either. Her orders are to keep it quiet. Her next words are at normal strength.]
Well, we appreciate every working set of hands. The ones that want to help tend to get more done, and faster.
ofc!
Hauling crates one day and slaying sin eaters the next.
[aster shrugs, feeling a quiet twinge of guilt — he doesn't play this game as well as the exarch does, and he doesn't exactly like the feeling that he's lying to lyna. he can't possibly tell her about the first and the source, though, and he can't explain what primals are in only a handful of words. best to just go along with the exarch's story that he's a conveniently battle-ready friend and leave it at that.
his gaze floated away, towards the city, but now they light on lyna again.]
Is there anything you need? [he shrugs.] My hands are idle, as you've noticed.
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[For some that may have been a more difficult guess, but Lyna always knows what’s needed at her post, and almost always in the stations around. Might be harder to work out whether she meant the humor in those words specifically.]
I’m here to ferry medical supplies to Fort Jobb. They’ve run low in the wake of helping the villagers fleeing Holminster. Unless you have more pressing business...they could use your attitude as much as your hands.