Prelude to Peril
She pushed the key into the lock. The dank Limsan air caused it to stick. She pushed a little more, hearing the decisive clunk as it slid fully into place. She was soaked to the bone. White seemed such a wonderful Limsan color, and the little outfit had been perfect for a day of vacation and shopping, until an offshore wind brought its rain and chill. The flush of wine was still upon her cheeks from the evenings festivities, but the expression in her features was that of uncharacteristic seriousness.
She turned the key, and opened the latch, pushing the door to C'kayah's flat open.Â
"Perhaps he will be here..." she thought, hopefully. Â
As the door swung slowly open, only darkness greeted her. In the dim streetlight she lit the candle left willingly by the door. "He's not here..." she thought, confirming what she had already known.
Still, as she moved slowly through the apartment lighting the oil lamps one-by-one she entered each room with a sense of hope, suffering repeated disappointment. She had never seen him in this place, but it looked like him, and smelled of him, a scent now mingling with girlish fragrance of perfume and cosmetic from the spare bedroom which she had taken as her own for use during the short vacation.
She let out a deep sigh; rarely would the sight of a trusted friend have been more welcome. A sense of deep loneliness came over her again, a helplessness against the tossing tides of life that she had found no easier to escape despite flight, after flight.Â
"Why would anyone rely on me... I am just a barmaid?" It was a question that had been repeated all evening. Why indeed...
She knew what she wanted to do: go to ground, as any smart fox would. She was already out of sight, the hounds were at bay. Go to ground. Save herself.Â
She stood silently in the hallway outside of C'kayah's personal chambers, mind racing with thoughts of escape. Her fingers knit together, working with a nervous energy as she gazed blankly at the floor. "Go to ground..."
Her voice erupted spontaneously, and without effort, "OSRIC!" she cried, the walls of the chamber seeming first to reverberate, and then to rebel with the mention of their master's oft-time foe. "Osric..." she repeated, more quietly, as she wondered why the Gods would allow Ul'dah's savior to be ripped from her at the height of the city's need.
"Crofte..."Â She had overheard this on her link pearl, but at the time she refused to believe it, only now it could not be denied.
"Kiht..."
Her mind reeled with the thoughts of and fears for so many of her friends, left now tied to a miserable fate, their lives and everything that they loved imperiled.
She moved slowly into his office, her weight falling into his desk chair. Her elbows fell to the desk, and her head into her hands. In the near dark, out of sight, away from public eye, she found herself doing what she never allowed: she broke down. Tears streamed down her cheeks, flowing and dripping relentlessly to the desk below. The crying whimper of her voice was swallowed by the thick brick walls of Limsan construction.Â
It seemed an eternity later when she found herself seated once more at the desk. A sheet of paper before her: her purchase of writing supplies earlier in the day had perhaps been fortuitous, but the paper was a pink, frilly paper with lace edging. It had been meant for lighthearted, and perhaps flirtatious letters to her friends once she had returned home. For a moment she smirked, the upward curl of her lips providing a stark contrast to the cry-weary look of her eyes. "Such a serious message for such frivolous carriage..." she thought to herself.
She set about writing the letter to C'kayah, using the elegant, flowing, and beautiful Ishgardian script that was the legacy of parents who in their foolishness believed it a skill necessary for a girl "of her rank".
When she finished she folded the letter carefully, and slipped it into an envelope just as feminine, affixing it with the heart-shaped seal that seemed so much more appropriate earlier in the day.
She nodded, with fragile resolve. "I have to post this right away, maybe it will reach C'kayah before I can return to Ul'dah."
She picked herself up, grabbing a coat of his as she left for the door. For now he would at least help her fend off the rain. She stepped back into the cold, wet, Limsan Dark. High heels struck rough cobble stones, while rain pelted her from above. Such a serious message; such frivolous carriage.