Art Dump

HoYoVerse-related art can also be found on HoYoLab@Llymlaen the Harpy. Most art can be found on Tumblr@llymlaentheharpy (has more details there for these images).

( Misc )

( Eudaemonia Euphrosyne )

Writing Snippets

I wasn't ever going to post this writing online, but Dreamwidth feels like the best place if any (other than maybe Ao3, but something about that feels a bit too exposed).

Eudaemonia Euphrosyne [Yuyuda Yuda] (Dunesfolk) is my FFXIV WoL, and (the tentatively named) Yoyoberi Momoberi is her twin brother. Other OCs are Sophrosyne (Chocobo), Borlaaq Saikhanbayar (Xaela), and Benitoki Kagemasa (Raen)

None of what I write is particularly... accurate, as my memory of the story is patchwork at best, so they're more character studies and theoreticals than anything. I also haven't written much of anything this year, with anything about FFXIV being from 2024 (ages/dates in titles are of Eudae, not me).

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Canon-Adjacent

Growing Pains [13yo]

This snippet is about their heterochromia, taking place at the 7th calamity.

Breathing slowly in a hazy and cold night’s air, Yuyuda cannot recognise the ground upon which she stands. Not sand, not soil, not rock nor rubble, a land of anxious infinity stretches out into endless shadowy depths, save for the stark red glow of Menphina’s Hound glaring at her from its tenuous place among the stars, no longer sat obediently at its so-called master’s feet. The chill scorches her face, yet she equally basks in the voice beckoning, asking — demanding, even pleading — her to reach out and grasp fate from the vast spaces between distant suns and gaseous clouds of sparks. Drunk on that haze, inundated by slumbering magicks, she speaks words she hadn’t summoned.

“All that play at god shall be sundered, for we are the warriors of-!”

Darkness stirs, disturbed as Yuyuda startles awake, clutching her face wordlessly. Her mouth opens and she can’t sit up and it hurts in a way never once known and it is her left eye or maybe her whole face but she cannot scream amidst nauseating swirls of light barraging her mind directly for fear that would worsen the agony. It is but a million years and nothing scarcely that long before the world quiets and Yuyuda weakly pries open her eyelids. Existence is naught but sharper, more dangerous to the senses in this state, yet softened by an unnatural feeling of power. Closing that pained eye, the world returns to normal, even once she opens it again.

Tired, she is after this ordeal. The sliver of light peaking into her rooms can only signal an extraordinarily late or early hour, so she ignores any alarm and returns to troubled slumber.

---

She awakes at midday from dead unconsciousness alongside Yoyoberi.

Carteneau had witnessed the reddened birth of Bahamut.

…

Archon Louisoix is dead.

---

Time flows ever slow, trickling past like weary travellers. Each and every moment burns dully with embers of fear and grief, embedded deep in the hearts of those who lived past the accursed moon’s descent. Yuyuda, unable to indulge in those pains, looks up at the melancholic sky one sunrise after another, swearing quietly in her heart that thin streaks of light adorn the land of Carteneau when she dares ask to check the flats, barely-glowing currents caught on the staggered clouds drifting by. Disaster wrought upon Eorzea, she gazes on worriedly upon the mourners and the rubble. Youthful faces sag with concern while old hearts pray to not suffer Bahamut again.

“Beri?” Yuyuda whispers into a sky tainted pink and orange. For but a moment, no sound echoes in the open Thanalan air, spare the arid wind of evening. Eventually, Yoyoberi appears, a flash of clean white linen against the drowsy desert.

“Hm? Yuyu? [Does somethin’ worry you?]” he murmurs in slurred Lalafellin syllables.

“I..” With her right eye shut gently, Yuyuda blinks at those fleeting lights seemingly known only to her. “Do you see… [the strange lights] too? With your right eye, as with my left?”

Glancing towards the dry trees and dusty mountaintops, Yoyoberi breathes out, “In the soul of the land, [aye].”

“Not among the stars?”

“[No], not at all.”

Moreso than before, moreso than after, those lights, that aether, as they would learn in time, glittered brightly under the dim light of lone Menphina. Yet, that selfsame night, the aether disappeared completely from their sights, and thus, from busied memory, as if dissipating under the weight of careless acknowledgement from those still yet breathing.

---

A Foe (or Friend) Who’d Chase You Beyond the 8th Calamity [18yo]

Zenos yae Galvus. A man who crushes all underfoot. Ash and sparks dance across Eudae’s memories in a deadly facsimile of the horror of Rhalgr’s Reach. A man who embodies more savagery than his enemies. Not yet dead, she lifts her rapier to dualcast Vercure and wash away the wounds, if not the pain. “… Would the stars have warned me…?” she mutters at Zenos’ assertion that she is worthy of sparing and sparring. Not that it matters here.

The dirt beneath their feet shifts as Eudae rises from her kneel and Zenos takes a step closer, densely-packed soil loosened slightly by explosions and the careless, sloppy slashing of blades. This is a battle she will not lose Yugiri to, and as such, she raises the purple body of her weapon once again. This time, she would not heal.

This time, she would find the crack that allows fate — her own corrosively overwhelming fate — to flow on unimpeded.

“Be honoured,” Eudae breathes to herself, “for this is glory.”

With a Corps-a-Corps, the tip of her rapier pierces through heavy air and catches on the string of aether her left eye senses. Slashing out to the side, she obviously does not do much to Zenos, but even he notices the slightest shift in the flow of energy and ceases his chase of Yugiri for a moment. It’s not much. Still, Eudae seizes the chance to whisk her further away in quick dashes. It seems like help will come in time. It must.

Left eye spasming slightly, she casts Vercure and clutches at dark emotions gliding effortlessly through her foggy thoughts.

---

Well Met and Dully Noted (AU)

On the Basis of Uncertainty [15yo, 2000s-2010s]

Eudae picks at the hem of her skirt as the summer breeze blows secrets into her ears from where she sits upon the large roots of a tree. Not just the gossip of her classmates across the courtyard, but the silent songs of plants, the chitters of animals, the dance of light through the midday air. Her phone dings next to her, screen lighting up with a notification from Saikha.

Friday, 13:22 Saikha 🌸: yuda, what do you think of going to the bakery tomorrow then coming over to my place? kage’s working in the afternoon and said he wants some help with an assignment Eudae: okay i will bring soph and ask beri

With a firm pat on the bark of the tree, she tucks her phone away and stands up to make her way over to class, bag rolling behind her. The bell doesn’t ring for a few more minutes but short legs and being the size of a bowling ball means crowds are like diving into a ballpit with no floor.

“Yuyuda! Do you want icecream?” A friend-of-a-friend wanders over to her as he spots her passing by. His hands are full with various popsicles and icecreams, and each of the members of the group they flitted from held their one of their own. Eudae only really talks to these people for classwork, but being the daughter of a businessman apparently does impact your ability to establish work-based relationships.

Nodding as well as she can with her neck practically craned to Heaven On High, she reaches into her fanny pack for something to trade with. After she manages to find a very pretty embroidered ribbon and ties it around his wrist using her chubby fingers, she picks a mango popsicle and scurries away, little clouds of dust kicking up under her feet and wheels in the dry summer weather. Ringing echoes through the halls just as Eudae comes to a stop at the closed door of her history classroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of pale skin and light blue hair, the owner of which disappears around the corner without saying hi. Absently, Eudae opens the popsicle up and starts eating it, eyes scrunching shut when she feels someone ruffle her short hair. Annoyance compels her to bat the hand away, but she can barely reach high enough over her head to do so. Still, that hand retreats as she peeks at her assailant.

“Hi~ Look who it is, my favourite 9th grader! Eudaemonia, how have you been?” Mister G’raha chirps from where he’s kneeling next to her, smoothing out her flyaways gently. He’s only a TA for history, but he seems to be everywhere, ready to strike up a conversation about his favourite facts at a moment’s notice. Not discouraged by her silence caused by her refusal to stop licking the popsicle, he continues, “Would you like me to take you into class?” When Eudae nods, he pushes open the door to the maths classroom, grabbing her special seat as she waddles over to where she wants to sit for the day.

Said special seat includes adjustable height and table sections to accomodate for her short stature and arms. Every room she frequents has one, courtesy of Professor Matoya’s offhanded endorsement of disability aids a couple of decades ago from when she was a more active member of the Sharlayan research board. Mister G’raha quickly sets it up for her (he doesn’t have to, but she appreciates the efficiency) so she can immediately set up her laptop and water bottle. Class doesn’t technically start for a few more minutes as most teachers take a moment to get to their classes, giving her time to finish up her popsicle.

“Anything else for my liege?” Mister G’raha jokingly bows. Upon seeing the shake of Eudae’s head, he places a tiny origami star on her desk and backs out of the room with a wave. “It’s from Miss Rhul, who probably stole it from Mister Durendaire, I’ll tell her you’re well.” The door clicks shut, leaving her alone with slowly meandering thoughts until her classmates spill in behind her maths teacher.

---

Breathing suddenly evening out but staying deep, Eudae’s hands flex and her stance widens slightly like she’s preparing to grapple the kid in front of her despite their height difference. “Shut your mouth,” she spits.

“Dude, chill. I’m just making jokes, you’re not even a part of this conversation!”

You don’t get to joke about the reason my parents might be dead!

Instinctively checking that her leg braces aren’t on, she jumps at the kid, tackling him to the ground in one move and causing him to scream as he tries to catch himself but fails miserably. Immediately, adult hands reach out and lift her up by the armpits while a commotion breaks out.

“Now now, little executioner, care to explain?” Miss Rhul sets down and soothes Eudae, crouching to smooth out her skirt and blouse. Next to them, a teacher checks on her victim. Eudae’s tense posture and severe frown say everything — Miss Rhul knows exactly what’s happened just by looking. Voice dropping low, she continues, “You can follow me back to the library. I need to retrieve some worksheets from the printing room.”

Gathering up Eudae’s rolling bag for her, Miss Rhul takes long strides away from the scene, nodding briskly to the exasperated teacher dealing with the fallout. Eudae ignores the twinges in her legs and sprints to keep pace. The wind cools off the tears that threaten to bubble up and spill over. Yet, the anger does not care, boiling and burning, only spurred on by the fresh air of life.

Not looking towards her, Miss Rhul casually remarks, “I heard that Mister Durendaire extended an invite to you for his astrology club. Nothing clears the mind like staring into the stars.”

Y’shtola Rhul has always struck Eudaemonia as a woman of the Twelve, as Eudae calls those divine beings that sleep in her dreams. Not for any particular adherence to the principles of said divine beings, but for what Eudae considers the ‘aether’ of the life, the ground and air, the light and shadows of the universe. It would not surprise her if Y’shtola could see far more than the eye reveals.