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+--- Thread: Bulletin Board (/showthread.php?tid=5431)
RE: Bulletin Board - Chip - 04-06-2016
Victory.
Held a distinct taste to the salty winds that drifted through Limsa Lominsa that evening. A palate of prismatic hues splashed across the horizon, where Azeyma’s kiss had yet set. Poised against a white-washed spire, a solitary figure took to admiring the view. One hand firmly clasped a Claw lodged deep into the cracked alabaster surface, while black boots planted firmly against the aged windowsill kept the rogue steady atop his favorite perch.
It’d been quite some time since he’d had a recent success to ponder, and did just that while a smirk toyed against warmly-tanned lips. “Idiots didn’t e’en know wot hit’m.†He muttered to himself, and his stubbed tail wriggled in delight. The operation overall had gone smoothly and without mishap, despite the unexpected early arrival of the Swiftsure and the small window of time available before she departed. The halfbreed’s smirk widened further upon recalling that astonished look of the contact he delivered the sapphires to, having plopped the small pouch into his hands and striding off. Simple, wordless, and with a souvenir to boot.
The fading light of the sunrise danced off the small diamond that the rogue had procured from his belt, and oceanic eyes peered at the many colors that danced off its translucent surface. “Yer a keeper.†He said to no one in particular, grinning wide at the stolen gem before slipping it back into his belt. A gaze was offered towards the colorful horizon once more, before he pulled out his other Claw and slowly climbed down the tall spire, with each moment of purchase provided by the long-bladed daggers. A special form of the popular weapon, designed by himself. Upon reaching the bottom, he jumped down and dusted himself off with another stub-tailed wriggle of amusement. “Time fer vittles.†Proclaimed he, as he stowed his Claws against his belt and sauntered off towards the Wench. Perhaps he might even meet a familiar face there. A face, come to think of it, that had not been seen in quite a while.
“Girlie bett’r be keepin’ outta trouble.†The halfbreed muttered, the smirk alighting once more upon his lips as he walked across one of the many wooden bridges that connected each cluster of spires that made up Limsa Lominsa. It was time for a good drink.
RE: Bulletin Board - Roe Dad - 04-06-2016
Xha walks up to the bulletin board with a flyer and tacks it up before walking off with Asah.
"Looking for brother he is a Keeper Miqo'te may respond to Xha'a. He can look very different now then when he was young. Might have dark green hair and a Cactuar earring he is approximately thirty years of age. If you have seen him or know someone who can help me fing him please contact me Xha'to Lyehga."
RE: Bulletin Board - Kurt S. - 04-07-2016
Allene sat and stared. Studying her open tome, there were clear marks that some of the pages had a little too many errors on them. Newer ink strokes overlapped older ink strokes. She tried, several times, to blow quite the annoying lock of hair that seemed to irritate the already irritable girl that was armed and ready with a quill and an expensive bottle of enchanted ink.
Geometries of the same structure but with slight alterations to them produced the same outcome with various 'complications' in each instance of the structured code. All of them labeled 'half working' by the owner.
Her brown gaze narrowed at the yellow aetherical marmot across her. Lips turning into a slight frown as the simple creature simply stared at the wall. Drooling.
That got her attention. It wasn't the first time it's happened but she couldn't help but groan each time.
"Dogbuncle..."
The yellow marmot turned its vacant expression toward her. Aether dripping out of its stupid simple grin. Dissipating into wherever.
"Well at least your respond to your name now..."Â
She beckoned the construct over, cradling it in her arms. It behaved like a dog too. The massive tail wagging and making a nice little breeze while it tried to lick her face. She squashed his head away trying to keep the affection to a minimum.
"You're also less annoying when you can't talk. Seriously. Don't just blurt out my thoughts to strangers. I don't care if he was hot or that I really wanted to talk to him or even that his smile makes me melt a little. You don't just blurt out, with your aetherical whatever, in my voice, or a bastardization of it 'hey you're hot' then run over to me. That is not cool, Dogbuncle."
She shook her head firmly. It just tilted its head before finally disappearing from the insufficiency of aether.
Allene sighed and got back to work. Dogbuncle was far from a success.
RE: Bulletin Board - Jancis - 04-08-2016
Jancis thanked the retainer once more as she was escorted out of the warded manor, the door closing behind her without another word as she turned away. Viewing over the violet linkpearl she held in her hand, she took a deep breath.Â
Whatever concoction Nathaniel prepared for her to cleanse these wounds was potent. The conjurer realized that she hadn't eaten since early on, a small breakfast after washing up and wrapping her wounds, before the rest of the day was spent escorting back a corrupt alchemist that tried to make a dear friend a test subject.
The details of the day whirled in her head alongside the instructions of how to prepare for this treatment. Sleep most of the day, might experience the sensation of emotion, anger, depression, stomach aches, arousal, vivid dreams, irritation. The urge to drink skin after skin of water was palpable already.Â
Looking around the Goblet, staying there instead of heading back to her own quarters was a far better idea. Thoughts wandered to the halls she knew, faces and buildings where she could possibly rest the night into midday.
Long as this one stone road lead to at least one of them.
RE: Bulletin Board - Star Lin - 04-09-2016
The aetheric shadow pass by the last of the Yellow Jackets, slipping into the sun, and disappearing into the crowd. Once the shadow had found a shadow to hide in, the aether around it drop, revealing a green/yellow hair seawolf. She remain in the shadow, staring at the unbloody dagger in her hand, and thinking over what new information she had learned. Riven had been right, about finding him what Khyran wanted and yet, she had not been able to give him peace. The thin man had not known what he had wanted once he realize what she was truely ask him.
"Looka like you got a bit on ye mind," Jacke said, lips flickering into a smile as she jump. "Ah, ya stabbers aren't bloody."
"Ah, Uncle Jacke," Kest said. "He doesn't know what he wants."
"Ifna he broke the code..."
"Ah know, he needs ta pay." Kestlona hides her daggers. "He wants peace but he doesn't know how he wants it."
"Ye said his name is Khyran Oisin?" He watch Kest nod. "Name sound familiar, though Ah don't know whata code he coulda have broken."
Kestlona sigh. "Well, in a few bells, he either be pay the code or he be clear of it." She push away from the shadow. "Ah be needing to report this. Then, Ah think Ah be paying a visit to his group." She turn back to the shadow. "Sorry for pulling..." and the blond rouge was gone. She shakes her head. "Ye never change, Uncle Jacke."
She arrive at Ul'dah, stopping long enough to leave a quick note to Riven about what had taken place in the cell and that she had not been able to give the man peace as he didn't know if he wanted it of not. Next was to ride up to the place that her old Captain's friend had been going to. Cutting through Central into riding east. She made her way up to the Golden Bazaarr, not as Lona, not as Kest, but by her Dagger Unit name...Slipstream.
RE: Bulletin Board - Star Lin - 04-10-2016
Once the guard had taken the Jacket the boy had handle soundly, he had slip away, before any could thank him, even though he had been one of the loud ones calling for blood. He made it far enough that aetherical travel could not be seen from Lisma court. He arrive at Blackbrush station, mixing quickly with the other adventurers and trades men/women. He grab a bucket, dipping to fill it from the water trough that the Chocobos drank from. He slip into the brushes, washing the dye out as quickly as he could, washing the tears to ran down his face, the stench as his stomach lost what little he had eaten. He could never wash away what he said about his friend, the blood he call for, even as he try to help and keep his family name out of the trial business.
It took him a moment to wrap the daggers, hiding them back into the robe after he pull in back on. He had already free his tail from where he had bind it with ropes, hiding the hat he had used to hide his ears in the pack. He wish he had time to completely wash the black dye from his hair and to change robes. He could only hope that none would be the wiser and connect him to 'him'. John arrive late to the Stone, quickly hiding the daggers in his pack, and pulling out Kit's book, telling her in whispers not to speak about what had happen at the trial. He push away the memories of the trail, what he had said to the Jacket guarding the door so that he would be ignore. He pushed away the memories of the weight of the dagger as it easily slips from it's hiding place, to cut the bowstring when the Jacket had try to kill Fabebe when the verdict clear her and Khyran of the charges. He pushed away the turning in his stomach as he realize that if he hadn't turn the dagger to the handle, he could have easily kill the man.
He wanted to be sick again as Khyran's exhausted voice came over the Pearl, reminding him that he had to keep playing the part or the concern but in the dark friend. That 'John' had been in Ul'dah and did not know that Khyran and Fabebe had almost died at Khy's own brother's hand.
He hated himself for what he had to do in the name of family.
RE: Bulletin Board - McBeefâ„¢ - 04-18-2016
She was having the dream again.
The dream.Â
As always she woke up on that beach, as always it was in a body that was not quite hers. It was was not hers entirely, because she was not her entirely. Part of her had been ripped away, and like water, other things rushed in to take its place.Â
The surf lapped at her bare feet, as always.
Her body lay in the morning sun, aching as body and soul each fought to reject the other.Â
As always.
As always the old fisherman dropped his rod.
As always he carried her to his cottage.
As always she screamed at her reflection, banishing it with a fist.
As always the blood made her retch.
As always...
As always...
As always she awoke, rolling off the bed to her nightstand.Â
Deftly she replaces the cloth mask of sleep with the carved wooden mask of day, and, as always, prepares to face the world.
RE: Bulletin Board - Kellach Woods - 04-19-2016
"Aye, he's been like this for a while. Can't get up, his body's twistin' in his sleep - he'll be dead before a fortnight, way this looks like. Now I'm not one to ask for favors, much less from you people but... Gave a chance to the little lady over there, and she got the right idea eventually. Our remedies just can't fix him, y'see. Please... please help him."
The teenage highander could only groan in pain. A cursory look showed discoloration of the face, heavy breathing, right shoulder dislocated, likely from the unconscious contortions the man had just described.
The cloaked figure merely held her hand out, a simple gesture to soothe the child psychologically. Feeling the sudden appearance of something warm, his left hand reached for the source - Both tiny hands cupped gently, conveying compassion.
"Do not worry. I will save you." she gently said, smile on her face - A face that the harshest winds of the desert could not blemish.
With that declared, she stood. The people watching her stared, wondering where she was going. She dared not answer - Little Ala Mhigo was not the kind of place you stood idly by. It was a place of action, and the less who knew what she set out to accomplish, the better.
There had been corruption in the air surrounding the boy, and she needed to cleanse it before cleansing the boy. While she could have merely healed him and left, this would not solve the problem. It would merely delay the inevitable, and chances are if he got that, others would follow. Especially once he recovered.
Sensing the taint grow as she approached, she began preparations. Sword at her side - this time, faith would be her shield. "Protect!" she chanted. "Stoneskin!" Another one.
Her predictions were twofold - Indeed, the land surrounding this area had a dose of corruption - Corpses unceremoniously thrown in an underground river had floated along the current, which soon went overground. This was the second prediction - The populace would want to come here. Hence, the taint needed cleansing.
The hooded figure calmly began reciting a prayer, or an incantation, or simple words. The corruption took form, and lashed at her. A simple blast of miasma came from the blackened cloud. It was expertly dodged - Blade at the ready, she went through the same maneuvers she had practiced so long ago in anticipation of the Bloodsands. The corruption attempted more and more to attack the little hero, and she endured, until it was tamed.
Sheathing her sword, she reached inside her robe, pulling out a cane. A few waves of the purified wooden instrument later, the corruption was gone. Yet, her job was not yet over. Each body, whether mere bones bleached by the sun, or disease-ridden waterlogged corpses that had finally surfaced, she pulled them out, one by one. Counting seven, she fabricated a makeshift tool to dig graves for the deceased. Only three feet below the sands - she cursed her body's limitations, but it would have to do. Each corpse given a simple epitaph. "May you return to Aether, where the Mothercrystal welcomes you."
She picked up her sword, and walked back to Little Ala Mhigo. A shadow that had merely drifted into town before, to avoid complications, she did the same, using a different entrance. She walked towards the diseased boy, with the same characteristic smile she had given him before. Cane in hand, she finally cast the spell that could cure him, and then, and only then, was her work over.
The man that pleaded for her, seeing the boy start to recover, was shocked that not only the hooded figure did something, but actually succeeded. As though she never saw him, she picked up her equipment, and started walking out of town. He tried to stop her, invite her for dinner, give her Gil for her services. The hooded figure never stopped walking until she was outside the city limits, once she realized the man had followed her.
"Why won't you stop!? I just want to thank you for all you've done!" he pleaded, it wasn't in an Ala Mhigan's philosophy to just give up.
"I do not need thanks. Save them for the boy - He has found a source of water a few malms southwest from here, outside of the U tribe's territory." her smile was genuine. "If you wish to thank me, honor the graves that are near the water source. They did not deserve such cruel a death. Implore Thal to watch over them in his realm, for Nald traded them too soon." she stated in a calm voice.
"I'll, uh, I'll do that. But what should I call you if I need to call you?" the man simply asked.
"Do not call me anything - The less people know of me, the more I will be able to help."
Then, with a gust of wind, the hooded figure left.
"Now, if only all Lalafell were as saintly as that one..." he mused, before returning to his post.
RE: Bulletin Board - Askier - 04-20-2016
Twice as dark and three times the night. Blackness is churning and in the essence of nothing is a void of madness.
In this chaos of nothing was freedom of the never-created. The masses of the many, the souls of the none. Definitions? Here?Â
Impossible.
This was the essence of the immaterial. The never born and the never dead.
Except.
It was not.
Containment. Limitations. Structures at the limits.Â
Someone had been a deceiver. Liar. Trickster.
Survivor.
In the mass of nothing, two eyes opened. One black as the abyss, one as golden as the sun.
Someone had been very naughty.
Hojo jerked up from his nightmare, cold sweat running down his brow as he breathed frantically, his white, alabaster eyes wide.
He placed his head in his hands and moaned.
"Just a drrream." the miqo'te whispered softly as the bell in his left ear trembled softy. The ringing soothed him and he turned to look at the moon through the window of his room.
"Just a nightmarrre."
RE: Bulletin Board - GhostlyMaiden - 04-21-2016
One. Two. Three.
Three times had she escaped from death.
One.
One close friend.
Two.
Two enemies.
Three.
Three Deaths.
It was all numbers. These numbers added to the big picture of Nanagi's life. In the twenty-four years of her life, never did she expect it all to come at her so quickly. Multiple times has she made a fool of herself, multiple times has she made a terrible mistake.
This was her chance to fix it all, to get things back to the way they should be.
Alone.
Only speak to the people she had already befriended and don't allow herself to get so close, prevent the same mistakes from happening. Focus on her Aether research only. With her research, she can help her friends she does have. Right?
Two blood samples.
Valen Stalhart and Kanako Moonweaver. The Void and pure Aether. Both cases were very specific and with each discovery, more possibilities were put on the table. It was hard to narrow everything down, would she actually be able to figure it all out?
The poor Raen has too much Aether and it'll eventually make her ill. The stoic Magitek Knight has a being of the Void, and it'll eventually consume him.
So much to do, such little time. The countdown until it all falls apart begins.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Perhaps there is a way to make the countdown feel like it's going slower? Discover a way to make things not as rushed.
The Sharlayans had so much knowledge, but are too stubborn to share. Perhaps if they saw her accomplishments, they would help her? With the Sharlayans, the time she has increases.
But what if they get too close -- too curious? What if they put her research in jeopardy?
Then the time she did have is suddenly taken away, and she then has even less time to reach her goals.
RE: Bulletin Board - Jancis - 04-28-2016
Jancis shifted the satchel strap on her shoulder, the clinking of unused elixirs as they jostled within.
She had been mistaken.
Moons past when the three of them spoke about training solo and wanting to spar, the conjurer received the wrong impression. Or her own upbringing had molded her, for the woman was certain she would be recovering after a brutal session. Yet all she had was stinging arms.
Seeing Leanne always brightened her mood, the bright shining eyes hinting with mischief and humor. The expression had changed in subtle ways: the humor had gotten more witty, there was some guarding in the warmth, and the carefree spirit was experienced. If there was still pain, Jancis hadn't seen it; it seemed more or less content.
Why had it been so surprising that she, the conjurer, expected to spar? Wasn't that part of the offer to keep her from just training alone? The reason had been forgotten and it was going to be more friendly. Reconnecting with people close regardless of distance and time. They seemed happily surprised, at least.
Drawing straws, Jancis was matched up with Barengar. He asked if she had done unarmed before. A little; she hadn't lied. It wasn't really her forte or tactic to stand there and be punched and stay close enough to deliver one herself. Very rarely had she been forced into a position she couldn't retreat and call for more help. This was a friendly spar though.
It was definitely her upbringing, an unconscious biased that clashed with another, fighting as much as she was holding her forearms up defensively and shuffling about fist to fist with the Ala Mhigan. He was Ala Mhigan, like the guardian that wouldn't stop until she didn't move in their "training", but completely unlike him. And he had shed his armor and weapon, the conjurer's heart-rate increasing from more than the savage adrenaline of battle. The perception of an unstoppable machine was shifting to one that could choose to stop. More man than machine; more than heritage.
She thought back on the images in her mind. Did she see any scars? Nothing new, but it'd been some time since she'd seen him without armor on. There was no attempt the smile that came to her face as she made way to the ferry. He had called it a friendly fight and hadn't even considered breaking her arm or dislocating her shoulder to stop the pin. Even the way he grunted at her comment of it was chiding and she took is as sweet (particularly when his fond memory of his first match was getting beaten down by his father - though probably not broken) and chided her own assumptions.
All the more reason she wished he'd come along with her on the errands she was doing for Nathaniel. What had he meant by his terms. He felt like a tool to be used? No, he had been a soldier - he had to look out for himself. Like she had, her first years in Gridania as the conjurers rehabilitated her attitude.
Mayhaps Leanne would help with the gathering tasks; maybe that would have to have terms. Jancis couldn't simply ask without giving in return. Some kind of trade. The list was fairly long... maybe more would be needed. With their terms?
She could do that.
Name the terms, and I shall do more than meet them.
RE: Bulletin Board - Star Lin - 04-30-2016
(ooc: Just a bit of a set up for John and Paul Desmond meeting tonight.)
John enter his room in the Dusk. "Well, that went well," he said with a sigh, dropping the pack on his bed. He had been able to find the area but hadn't been able to get close to it with investigator still around the area. He wasn't even sure which one of them might have been Investigator Desmond. "I need to get this to Sir Paul."
'He could already know...' Kit said.
Kit was probably right. He could have figure out there was another person there. 'But what if he doesn't realize.' It would not be the first time that he had told something and found out that it was already known. 'But how to get him to meet me.'
"Mom said that the Adders had been offer his services to try and find me while I was being held by the Garleans," he mutter, reaching for some paper and his quill on his desk. "Maybe a letter of proper thanks will bring him by here." He wish that Pick had been here as he wrote, but the spirit was watching the site of the last death, to see if any amoung them might be acting out of character. Pick had been the one that had pointed out that some of the information seem to point to an insider, perhaps helping Viper when Justice did fail.
To Investigator Desmond,
My mother made mention the other night that you had offer to help find me while I was missing a month or so ago. I wish to convey my thanks for wishing to help. If there is a possibility for us to meet in person?
John Waterstrike
Son of House Waterstrike
RE: Bulletin Board - Kellach Woods - 05-03-2016
A nightmare, only a nightmare... just a nightmare.
Of course, it was far less convincing to do so when the wood pressing up against him was not separated by a mattress he'd just repaired, his head resting on a bag filled with books and clothes, and the gentle waves of nightly sailing were cradling the boat. He'd bawl if it served any purpose. The Seven Hells take him if there was any purpose to life other than reciprocating this atrocity on the very people who unconsciously caused it.
* * *
There'd been reports that Garleans had been sighted across the shore, but they never docked. He wondered why - They'd already established that the nation had nothing for them. Perhaps they were waiting to fully absorb the city into the Garlean Empire proper, perhaps they were simply using the waters nearby to stage an assault. None of them knew.
Five more cases of the Surge of Aether, spread out throughout the island. Add to those seven a few days ago, and it felt like something inevitable had finally been set into motion. Dread covered the young man's brow. His responsibilities to the council no longer mattered - this situation required an explanation, and he would get one come hell or high water.
He knew where to go - he'd studied the rarest tomes of the island, listened to the legends. All signs pointed to the cavern he'd discovered so long ago.
* * *
The inside was dank, as always, the remnants of long lost ships still floating after millennia of abandon. The caverns littered with graffiti of a forgotten age. None of this mattered anymore. With an elegant dive, the young man went under the largest ship, finding a box that had been discovered in the early days where the island's inhabitants styled themselves explorers, but were unable to open. Another book that detailed the legend of a key that could open the secrets of life itself held the solution to this puzzle.
Bringing the box to the surface, the ancient alphabet dictating the code would be impossible to decipher. Yet he had a talent for such, and soon saw the box open. Within it, a stone radiating with faint power. Pocketing the stone, he rushed to a pedestal that seemed out of place from both the unnatural color of the rock when compared to the rest of the cavern, with the craftsmanship being much higher than any of the stone cutters he knew. The pedestal, as he surmised, had a groove to set the stone on. Turquoise lines formed from the pedestal, heading towards the ships. The cavern heading towards the sea closed, and water poured in from its side, tiny imperceptible holes forced the water up. The mast itself, a bit off place even assuming the ships themselves had crashed here, soon hit the ceiling, a groove made just for it.
Behind him, a newfound staircase.
At the end of the staircase, the heart of the mountain... nothing.
* * *
"Private, secure the artifact and escape. I don't want anyone to know we've been here." The language spoken was off - Not Eorzean, nowhere near the ancient language he could inexplicably decipher.
The outfits were Garlean, no doubt - He'd seen them enough. How did they make it here? The vision did not show. Still, they soon nabbed the artifact and left.
* * *
"The Negaether will regulate the area's aether. This is how we'll be able to thrive, leaving the past behind." Black robes and masks he'd seen before. The very founders of this land.
"No more. We will die on our own terms, as our master did."
They all silently nodded, leaving the machine to hum.
The next step will be forgetting this ever happened, their master had ordered such.
* * *
The memories flooded in the young man's mind. Things he suspected, things he knew from the amount of researched he'd poured in the island's history. The discovery of an era and unfortunately, the instrument of his people's demise.
* * *
The town had been set on fire - Father had been set against mother, brother against brother, gleefully murdering one another to satisfy a thirst for vengeance against a slight they had done against themselves at the beginning of their history. Each claiming they stole the other's part of themselves they had allegedly lost.
He was too late.
Others, strangers, unaffected by the illness of the isle, soon began preparations to set sail. Unaffected by the overarching insanity, the man asked for safe passage to the only city he knew - Limsa Lominsa.
He stared at the flames, barely even drenched by the blood of his countrymen. Even throughout the farms, men and women had slaughtered livestock, each other, trees. He took to writing a simple sentence :
"Today, my people committed suicide."
The rest was better left unsaid.
With barely a few books to his name, knowledge that amounted to nothing in Eorzea, and the strength of conviction - he set out to find his brother, or at least, anyone who knew him.
Einrich Woods had a genocide to plan.
RE: Bulletin Board - Narai L'Astiel - 06-09-2016
(Expired)
RE: Bulletin Board - Verad - 06-11-2016
“You promised scrap and salvage, Bellveil. This is quite a lot of scrap and not a lot of salvage.â€
“My apologies for that, Miss Uro. Much of the salvageable material from the cache was given to a friend of mine for study. I could hardly say no. But I think you’ll find that everything in there is more than worthwhile for someone keen to study goblin engineering.â€
“Huh! You say that about everything you try to fob my way, but this is good enough just by the quality of the gears, I suppose. Usual trade? Just got a load of things in fell off the back of an airship.â€
“Did they actually fall?â€
“I suppose in a sense they did, yes. Lucky some of those sky pirates were in place to catch them, isn’t it? Go on and have a look.â€
“But of course, Miss Uro. Let’s see … ah, I like the cracked vase, that could be quite popular with some free companies I know who seek that ‘run-down and dilapidated look’. Oh, and - what’s the origin of that statue there?â€
“The totem? Said it was Vanu make. Supposed to be a warrior from ages past.â€
“My word, to think they used to look like paissa! It would be quite a find for the budding beastfolk historian. And - Oschon’s bunions, Miss Uro, what is that?â€
“What, that thing? Bit morbid, isn’t it? Said it was ancient technology or whatever, but you know how it is. Paint a few glowing lines on something and suddenly it’s an authentic wooden coin from ancient Allag or Amdapor or wherever.â€
“But I don’t see any glowing lines.â€
“Yeah, this one’s subtle, you just touch it here and - “
“Oh! My word! Very interesting. Do you know what it does?â€
“Mostly it upsets my customers when they look at it, is what it does, and you can see why. Haven’t tried using it. The people brought it in said it was a rejuvenation device, or preservation, or similar.â€
“Preservation? On what?â€
“People I suppose, but to use it you’d have to get in it, and you won’t catch me doing - “
“I’ll take it.â€
“What, that? It’s a mite large to sell at the Quicksand isn’t it?â€
“Quite so, Miss Uro. But this is for me. Just this. I think that’s a fair trade.â€
“Your - hah - your funeral, I suppose. I’ll have it crated and sent to your estate How d’you plan on using it?â€
“Oh, I don’t know. I could always stand to shave a few years off of my life.â€