𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  ;  X.

now that i could reflect on the game's contents here is a ff16 verse. these points are not entirely spoiler free. some built on information taken from the archive, still is going to be tagged as spoilers so read with caution.

members of the fleuret family have their origins in the 'motes of light', the ancestors of most of sanbreque's nobility into which bahamut's dominants tend to be born. few descendants of these peoples migrated out of sanbreque's ever expanding borders and settled in a far eastern part of the northern territories, first given the name 'maniheim' and later simply called 'the dark land', now only separated from sanbreque and its capitol oriflamme by a large lake. though their blood mixed with other lines during the ages, the fleurets still have a high affinity with light magic and bahamut, which is why a lot of their noble blood has ties with the imperial family as both nations fostered an alliance in the past. blessed with divination and a connection with celestial bodies, some of them would even be sent to the empire to become highly valued astrologers to the ruling head and enjoy privileges no bearer could ever imagine.

due to the blight spreading after the collapse of drake's eye, the people had to flee and intermingle with sanbreque's society once more in the last seven to eight decades. while a large portion of the populous was lost, some others established small communities. the fleuret family however, became a controversial noble complex and political tools, ever exploited in exchange for the empire's 'hospitality', exposing biases and double standards in comparison to the treatment of common born bearers. basically, they are useful 'guests'.

similar to eikons manifesting in dominants, some of which already occurred before the downfall of the ancient civilization ( one example being shiva ), so would the power of celestial objects manifest in generations of the fleuret line and their nocturnal oracles, this includes the sun, the moon, and specific stellar constellations, eventually to be associated with deities. it is through this awakening that the myth of metia as a messenger to the heavens takes its roots, and that the moon, embodied by a lunar oracle, answers the prayers metia would bring her.

while lunafreya practices divination, so was she also born a talented medic to sylva, who under mysterious circumstances passed away, yet, the excessive use of that blessing wears on her body. her brother ravus, having joined the military of sanbreque's knights, hoped to ensure the semi-protected position of lunafreya and their sister stella within the empire, nevertheless, with sylvestre's growing greed, even she could not be spared to become an instrument for his wars, likely separating the siblings.

personally i would like her to reach beyond her 20's for once, thusly be around clive's age, and won't meet her end at least until after the second time-skip, if arguably so.

since luna so deeply enjoys gardening, she may or may not nurture an aether-blue variation of the otherwise white or lilac wyvern-tail, right next to a small chapel dedicated to greagor, where she treats the ailments of the poor whenever she is able.

affiliation wise, she is mostly neutral, but would find herself supportive of dion's revolt. for the emperor and the empress she feels nothing but cold indifference. to clive and his party she will potentially be The Cryptic NPC.

Charlotte Brontë, from Villette

* 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 .

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 // you need rest. more than anything, you must allow yourself rest. death is frightening– it is inevitable, it is unstoppable– but, it can also be a thing of great beauty. it is an agent of change. it is the forest fire that paves way for new life. allow yourself this rest, and be prepared for the change to come. brace yourself. it will be hard, it will not be kind, but you are more than ready. you just need to rest first.

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 : 13 𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : endings, change, transformation, transition 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 : resistance to change, personal transformation, inner purging

tagged by : @reginrokkr tagging : @infersang @asterites / @rosefaint @royalarms / @meteorea + anyone who wants to do it !

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 ;    some sacred agonies were simply overbearing, over-gobbling, the cosmos eager to sunder and disassemble.  one side too real, the other too dead.  too holy, too eldritch.  they took root and vine as rotten artery-roads through a gilded body.  though your words rang true, your softness lied.  always, always were there lies. ( like hers, like anyone else's.  ) along with the ghosts you soothed you faded before her, and to this, she was regrettably blind.  oh, what feats she would undertake  ---  moving mountains, parting the seas, bending the skies for her twinkling asteria's happiness !  perhaps, this might have been the reason she shan’t know the hidden meaning. your ailment a secret by volition of cold light.    “ fear does even plague ghosts, it is unfortunate such inflicts those who have yet to meet their end, in turn.  ”   herein the irony manifested between two fleuret women and their empathic attributes, their shared compounds tempering sorrow like a balm to a bruise.  hers, a gift to the living    /    yours, to the unliving.  she did rather not admit her particular understanding of a ghost's reasoning for its lingering obstinacy, and that in her own dismays she would stir waters to tremendous dimensions.    “ even so —  i could not blame them.  the light of yonder is too bright and terrifying, too cryptic for them.  what else will it cleanse aside from memory ?  some may not be able to let go of their pain… ”    and their wailing may never be heard, in silence they must weep. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 for those whose eyes sees the unknown. the markings of a goddess, it’s plague clouding her vision towards a death-screamed spiral. it suffocates her. the desperation of fallen corpses clinging onto her soul : hungry for vengeance, craving for existence, and when they speak it was honey sung words reaped with veiled treachery. the chaos in her eyes is marred with blood stained tears, yet the night star no longer mourns for its injustice. instead, she carries on pretending she is unbothered / pretending she is above the terror which torments the earth. smile, play her role, she has always been good at acting and running away.  ❝  ——  hmm, what do you think they say ?  ❞  look how patiently the stars deflects their response. her dialect spoken with an air of spacious wonder, dancing on the cusp of religious taboo, with falsehood innocence to match.  ❝  the dead who remains... often feels very wronged.  ❞  there will always be some semblance of truth to her words, but because you are her holy sister, she offers you nothing less than sincerity.  ❝  they do not want to part with the living, so they choose to ignore the summoning of the light above. it hurts them too you see, so they hurt others. or at least some of them do. many of them simply hides. ❞

* 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .

i. a little headcanon ( from an earlier post ) with @asterites includes the perfidious lady cousin of the fleuret siblings, cytherea, who, in good old fleuret family tradition, perishes.  but not before turning into a daemon that resembles siren from ff11. if iedolas still had an implied son ( short-haired blondie from the versus trailers ) she probably would have had a scandalous affair with him while they planned to overthrow niflheim together via to their shared greed for power.

ii. while luna has neither a particular eating disorder nor an unhealthy relationship with food, she does have the tendency to self-neglect due to overworking, which results in slight underweight and a bit of hair loss / hair thinning. that does not mean she finds no enjoyment in food or that she consumes with guilt attached, quite the opposite ; she simply finds little time to indulge. if she gave herself the chance to eat regularly, she'd find back to a healthy weight without much issue.

iii. opposite to what little we've seen of the pages within the notebook that luna and noctis exchange, she likes to decorate her entries with little ( bad ) scribbles that go along with her letter-long ( fancy ) texts. of course, over the years have assembled multiple books, filled with smaller or longer notes, insignificant or emotionally charged alike. she lets noctis vent more than she allows herself to, but sometimes even she finds herself writing down what she is feeling in her political prison.

iv.  as much as square enix wants the sylleblossom to be associated with the relationship of luna & noctis because they keep showing the pressed flower in the journal, plus her death scene / the scene with ravus --- the only two times i accept this flower in relation to her and why i think she nurtures them, are : one. a field full with its blue petals appear like a sea and therefore creates a visual dynamic that reminds of the moon and its control over the ocean. two. sylleblossoms highly resemble gentiana’s and are a direct hint towards the connection between the messengers and the oracles, since the flower is native to tenebrae.  other than that i just take the lunar tear out of nier and apply it as luna’s personal flower, because of the fact it grows at a lost shrine ( i oft like to symbolize that the moon as selene's forsaken body is sort of like a lost shrine ) and is said to perform miracles which is a reference to luna’s entire healer image.

  *  𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀 .

i.    selene, in context of ffxv lore, is an astral, but of course, not part of the hexatheon.  given her role as the moon, she is bound to eos and plays a vital part in the planet’s balance. 

ii.    on this blog, there are several categories of astrals, including sub-species to which less powerful divinities and messengers count.  1 )  the main hexatheon that rule the divine hierarchy, are elemental deities and the primary guardians of the planet.  2 )  while the elemental astrals shaped the planet with their resources, they required the assistance of their luminous brethren who provided their light.  sun, moon, and dawn are siblings who contribute to the planet’s creation and of them, eos received the most respect, hence they named the globe after her.

iii.    in parallel to the greek selene’s battle against the feared TYPHOEUS, the astral selene battled against a great manifestation of the star scourge risen in the astral war, and from this wrestle, received scars / craters and fell into a deep slumber.

iv.    now comatose, selene dreams.  and through this, experiences an out-of-body wandering and incarnated into the oracle bloodline.  ironically with the chaos of the star scourge, she would be able to ascend to godhood and return to her lunar body.

v.    all luminous deities have been affected by the scourge in some way or another and have then fallen one by one ever since.  their absence has caused the plague to grow larger with every coming night.

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃.    t’was between sisters where angels fell on deaf ears, where their choirs ceased so abruptly it rendered time breathless, drowned out by humming bird songs.  as seemingly humble nothings meant everything amid cosmic malediction, what else could she do than accept sweet offers, which may, one day, stand still at a moment's notice ?    “ how could i say no ?  i am in the mood for a little adventure today, and this book can certainly wait.  to what wondrous place will you guide me, i wonder ? ”

It’s not the whisper of a hymn or a hallowed prayer, but the breath of a dying melody curled along the oracle’s tongue in a hushed hum.  ❝ Would you have time to partake in a sightseeing walk with me, Luna ?  There’s a lovely spot not far from the town. It is but a short carriage ride away. ❞ — @moonichor

* 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐘 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 // you are the crescendo, a never-ending strength which arouses great power and love within. you feel immensely, intensely, and every surface you touch is laden with love-- but beware, one must not cross you. your ardor knows no bounds and your symphony echoes on. you bring tears to one's eyes when they look at you too long and you inflict hope within tragedy. you are the end-all-be-all, but you are not to be mistaken in fear-- people cannot help feeling everything at once when they meet you, for you are the cosmos which blinds the oblivious and gifts the shadows light. your song : elegies of thule no. 3 by tonu korvits

▬ ❝ On my honour as Oracle, I will not rest until the darkness is banished from our world and the light is restored.

✧ @selenorites asked: Dain kisses Luna so softly it almost doesn’t feel real. “…I’ve wanted to do that since forever.”

Long ago has it been since Dáinsleif has given up on love, or so he thought. Contrary to what many would think were he verbalize this openly, it is not out of a bad experience from which he has not healed yet or if he did, that it touched him forevermore in such way that he doesn't want to subject himself to it. Nor it is not because from some ill belief in love either as a result of bad experiences that did not exist to begin with or because of however his character is. In fact, to this day, he is struck with longing which then morphs into melancholia in few moments when he is witness of the love shared betwixt other couples.

Unlike his peers whom have long since forsaken attributes that makes them human like love, believing themselves to be above it, he is not immune to the yearning of the warmth of a gentle hand in his. Of an embrace to share a sad or happy moment. Of lips dancing with his own for minutes that feel like hours. Of tender touches that lead to gentle love-making. No— to the positive surprise of some or the disappointment of others, he is not above these.

Alas, these acts pale in comparison to a bigger desire yet that was never fulfilled: intimacy. Physical intimacy is soothing and gratifying in more ways than one, but it all ends in the superfluous surface of the waters at best. That which he found out with time that he lacked all along is the growing necessity to speak up his mind unbound by the shackles of the societal context they live in, muted and frozen with the passage of time out of reluctant resignation. To be the safe haven of another who can do the same. To connect sentimentally and spiritually with. To not be ashamed when moments of vulnerability rear their ugly head neither him or his partner.

When he believed he has given up on love, then she came to bring light to his dark night.

Like the moon that no longer hangs in the abyssal sky, she showed him the way to a path he did not consider once to be necessary. One of self-acceptance, of ceasing to look up to others above himself when he, too, shines with a light he's still in disbelief he has —he has been doing better on believing more in himself, he truly has—. Amidst that way, he took notice of the selfless care she poured on him. It was unsolicited, but much eye-opening and needed when thinking about it in hindsight. Lunafreya shared her pale light with him, but just as the moon reflects the light it absorbs from the sun in essence, so, too, she was in need of light. A light that emerged from the humble mote of light he began to believe himself to be in times of need of serious reflection, of finding herself in moments of doubt, of seeking answers to understand her place in this world. A light that, to his own surprise, was more than enough to her.

Upon realizing that he's found in her what he used to long in the yesteryear, he did not pursue her love. Instead, gathering a habit that should've been discarded long ago and in direct opposition with the foundational belief of this kingdom, he became more than her knight— he became her silent devout. Dáinsleif was happy of standing in this position, looking for her closely, being her guide when she needed one. Until one night, that contentedness has begotten something else, fuelled further still with a courage he didn't think he would dare act upon.

Moments of silence are sometimes regarded as moments to be avoided, as they may breed discomfort and awkwardness. It was never so between them, rather finding comfort in it and their mutual company when there is naught to say at that time. Cornflower eyes are locked to the eclipse that now reigns supreme the Khaenri'ahn skies, her semblance neither betraying any thought or sentiment she might feel. Sometimes, when she does that, he wonders if she seeks to find answers that only the moon would give her. Under the dim light that now illuminates the slumbering kingdom and whatever little light reaches from behind them, he marvels in her beauty, star-shaped pupils quivering within sapphire depths.

It is when she looks at him out of the corner of her eye and realizes that he's been staring all along that his heart skips a beat at the mesmerizing sight before him. Surprise melted into happiness, as if she herself is revelling at the notion that he was looking at him. The rosy glow on her pale cheeks and the smile sat upon her soft-looking lips make his own eyes soften in an indescribable look. At that moment, for reasons he didn't stop once to consider, she ceased to be the oracle, the saintess he devoted himself to from strict quiescence. At that moment, he knew: he belongs to her.

Driven by a kindled sentiment does he step forward, eyes unable to peel off from her to engrave that smile in his mind. He wants to protect it. Onyx-gloved hands reach out to cradle her face as delicate as he can get, —for he is just a warrior, after all— and, before confusion has an opportunity to cast its shadow, he allows himself to cave in that which his heart wished to fill in, to dispel the longing that has made home within him for many years. Thus he emboldens himself to lean his face closer still, dares to close his eyes until even more audaciously still, he kisses her. It is just a simple press of lips, lacking in ulterior intentions that aren't that of allowing himself to feel once more, to act upon his own desires as she had always encouraged him to do despite his fruitless denial that he has none.

His forehead presses against hers when the gentle kiss concludes, thumb tracing gently her cheekbone with newfound tenderness he had forgotten that existed in him. And ultimately does a confession slip past his lips, from a man who would sooner bite and swallow it before admitting it aloud not out of sense of pride, but of self-sabotaging thoughts of how worthy he is of her (were she know about this, he would get a scolding, he knows).

◜…I’ve wanted to do that since forever.◞