Her Highness was as it usually was this time of night; quiet murmured voices carrying through the dimly lit tavern at Fisherman's Bottom. There were still a few souls left willing to drink at this hour and Ruru sat at the bar alone as he'd done for so many moons now.
His hygeine looked lacking as his hair was unkempt and longer than it had been in some time, as he'd not bothered to cut it; though he'd maintained the hair coloring...ensuring it was black. He wore thick unkempt facial hair and and had worked to dye this as well, never breaking who he'd become in the time since he'd been in Limsa.
He was Vivikuso. He was Flit.
The last thought made him close his lone eye and he tapped the bar with the near empty mug. "Another...same as before." He directed this to the elder Hyur working behind the bar. The man sighed. approaching and taking the mug with care before speaking.
"Look, Flit...I've gotta cut ye off, son."
Flit's eye opened and looked up as he scowled slightly. "Cut me off?" He sounded disappointed.
"Aye, son....look I know yer a regular...but....ye still owe from last time. And I think ye've had plenty tonight by the hours ye've been here." He rubbed the back of his head nervously.
Flit maintained his straightfaced stern look at the man who was starting to look a bit nervous. "You know I'm good for the coin. I've a job in two suns that'll cover whatever I owe you."
The man shook his head and grabbed a bottle of wine and handed it over. "Look...just take this...it's on me. I just....I'm afraid I need t' draw a hard line here son. Come back when ye can pay and I'll serve you happily. But for tonight...I think it's best ye head on home."
Flit stared and slowly grabbed the bottle before slipping off the stool and before he turned to leave he said in a cold flat voice, "I'll have your money in two suns." He turned and left, his black and gray padded armor matching his eyepatch and hair. The sword hanging on his side an indication he was no mere tourist.
Limsa had become his city and he thrived in its darkness, its underbelly as his former.....what had she been anyway? It mattered not. She was gone. Had left him as others had done before and he was as alone as he'd ever been. As he walked the darkened docks he recalled when he'd simply played guard here moons ago before he'd been nurtured and taken in as a proper sellsword, a paid killer....his contracts now providing enough for him to drink his fill each night until he needed to fill the coffers again. And the dead men and women who'd fallen to his blade helped fix that thirst.
That thirst for blood and revenge and quelling the anger in his heart if but for a single day. He spotted a poor homeless soul with a small cup jangling some coins and begging passerby for more and half considered running him through, taking the coin so he could pay back his debt at Her Highness then felt the wieght of the bottle he'd been given and knew he could drink at his place freely. He passed the man and smirked as he knew the man had been spared only by the grace of the barkeep.
As he entered his small messy apartment he kicked aside some trash and slumped onto the bed, opening the bottle and taking a long pull on it before stopping and looking at the side wall with his typical scowl. The dusty paladin armor sat half covered with clothing and trash and he scoffed before drinking again, knowing he was close to passing out, his nightly ritual nearly complete.
His hygeine looked lacking as his hair was unkempt and longer than it had been in some time, as he'd not bothered to cut it; though he'd maintained the hair coloring...ensuring it was black. He wore thick unkempt facial hair and and had worked to dye this as well, never breaking who he'd become in the time since he'd been in Limsa.
He was Vivikuso. He was Flit.
The last thought made him close his lone eye and he tapped the bar with the near empty mug. "Another...same as before." He directed this to the elder Hyur working behind the bar. The man sighed. approaching and taking the mug with care before speaking.
"Look, Flit...I've gotta cut ye off, son."
Flit's eye opened and looked up as he scowled slightly. "Cut me off?" He sounded disappointed.
"Aye, son....look I know yer a regular...but....ye still owe from last time. And I think ye've had plenty tonight by the hours ye've been here." He rubbed the back of his head nervously.
Flit maintained his straightfaced stern look at the man who was starting to look a bit nervous. "You know I'm good for the coin. I've a job in two suns that'll cover whatever I owe you."
The man shook his head and grabbed a bottle of wine and handed it over. "Look...just take this...it's on me. I just....I'm afraid I need t' draw a hard line here son. Come back when ye can pay and I'll serve you happily. But for tonight...I think it's best ye head on home."
Flit stared and slowly grabbed the bottle before slipping off the stool and before he turned to leave he said in a cold flat voice, "I'll have your money in two suns." He turned and left, his black and gray padded armor matching his eyepatch and hair. The sword hanging on his side an indication he was no mere tourist.
Limsa had become his city and he thrived in its darkness, its underbelly as his former.....what had she been anyway? It mattered not. She was gone. Had left him as others had done before and he was as alone as he'd ever been. As he walked the darkened docks he recalled when he'd simply played guard here moons ago before he'd been nurtured and taken in as a proper sellsword, a paid killer....his contracts now providing enough for him to drink his fill each night until he needed to fill the coffers again. And the dead men and women who'd fallen to his blade helped fix that thirst.
That thirst for blood and revenge and quelling the anger in his heart if but for a single day. He spotted a poor homeless soul with a small cup jangling some coins and begging passerby for more and half considered running him through, taking the coin so he could pay back his debt at Her Highness then felt the wieght of the bottle he'd been given and knew he could drink at his place freely. He passed the man and smirked as he knew the man had been spared only by the grace of the barkeep.
As he entered his small messy apartment he kicked aside some trash and slumped onto the bed, opening the bottle and taking a long pull on it before stopping and looking at the side wall with his typical scowl. The dusty paladin armor sat half covered with clothing and trash and he scoffed before drinking again, knowing he was close to passing out, his nightly ritual nearly complete.