Entry Ten
Cupcakes & Curiosities
It was a curious sort of day that began in an unexpected manner. Cupcakes.
"A mission of great import," is what the Elezen Wildwood called them upon his arrival. He introduced himself as Irridias Velnyx, an Officer of the Company, namely a Chronicler. Exactly what the position entails I wasn't quite made clear on, but it seems to be a conglomeration of all the various branches; a jack of all trades, yet master of none. Oddly, it seemed to suit him, given the flippant and haphazard nature of his personality.
Yet, there was something that felt oddly morose about him. I'm not sure if it was merely the subtle changes I saw in his countenance when he thought he was unobserved or in some of the more caustic jokes he made, oft at his own expense. It makes me wonder if the flippancy is merely a mask and that some other manner of man lies underneath. Might it be the warrior, scarred by a lifetime of battle? Or the the intelligence agent whose secrets are so layered beneath secrets that finding the truth of him would take a lifetime to unravel?
The flirtation might have been overplaying his hand to disarm me, I think. We'll see how well he follows through with his intelligence gathering.
After that encounter, I spent some hours afield gathering a few items that Raisan Arcmantle, Saint of the Crafting Branch, expressed a need for. Though I've not really encountered the Saint beyond passing him in the halls on occasion or at meetings, the adoration with which Miss Lilia Lia speaks of him gives me cause to trust and like him solely on that. For all the work I do for him, I really should meet the man properly. He just always seems so busy in the workshop...
Spending so much time out-of-doors always makes me loathe to cloister myself away inside, so I took the liberty of fetching some tea from the kitchens to take with me out to the yard. I hadn't expected company, but it still came in the form of Blake Forester, an Au Ra gentleman that continues to both confuse and surprise me. There is a sullenness that seems to be his common mode, as if the world-at-large irritates or infuriates him at turns. Yet, there are moments that seem to glimmer through, like a dim ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a rain. Moments where he almost seems to let his guard down and allow me to glimpse something of the man in turmoil beneath.
There is a... loneliness to him or perhaps a lone-wolfishness. At times he seems to crave company, but at others it's as if he wants nothing more than his freedom and isolation. Both are feelings I know well, considering how oft I still feel them myself. It is hard to reconcile everything I have lived and experienced up to this point: the hatred, the violence, the prejudice and allow myself to let my guard down fully, to enjoy the people of the Company and everything it has to offer. I keep expecting to find those old blood feuds somewhere, particularly among the Wildwoods and the Hyur, but thusfar I've encountered naught. It gives me hope for the world yet. And hope for people like Blake who need some drawing out from behind their cloistered shells.
Still, I worry that something I said or did during the course of our encounter might have upset or offended Blake. At the end of our meeting, I could almost physically feel the way he shut me out and closed himself off again. I would not want to weary him of my presence, but there is a part of me that feels I should seek him out to try and remedy things. If I am at fault, then I have no issue with admitting I was wrong and doing my best to correct myself. Yet, I must needs get to the heart of the matter first and, for that, I must needs find the man himself.
It wasn't long after Blake departed than none other than Erimmont Chevalier came sauntering into the yard as he sometimes does. With his patient living in Lavender Beds, he finds his way to the Harbingers' yard quite often. There was an exasperation to him tonight that was unusual for him, under any other circumstance he is the quintessential gentleman of leisure; needing nothing and no one, seeking only to charm and disarm with his entertaining wit and artful anecdotes from his life as a writer. It was an exasperation that only seemed to multiply when Emeraven Stormrose came upon us, so I did what I thought was best and took a walk with him away from the grounds.
I plied him for the heart of his concerns and I was relieved to find it was nothing more than his patient being unduly difficult. Given the late stages of her pregnancy, I'm sure this is all normal and to be expected, but I find that I have no small amount of pity for Erimmont for having to endure it. Women can be difficult even at the best of times, in such a delicate condition some can become downright tyrannical! So, I let him vent for a time, which seemed to much improve his mood.
There has always been something about Erimmont that sets me at ease, as if I could tell him any secret and he would guard it as closely as he does his own. So, I entrusted him with some of the matters that have been troubling me of late, particularly concerning Miss Stormrose and the odd encounter that I had with her only some few nights ago. It has since left me feeling somewhat frightened and concerned, both for Emeraven and myself for getting involved in such madness. It was no small comfort when Erimmont offered to watch my back, insisting I call for him on the personal linkpearl he entrusted to me, should the need arise.
He noticed the bruises on my neck, left behind by the assault made upon my person by the Ishgardian in Ul'dah. It was only then that I saw something of what Erimmont hides behind his gentlemanly repose. There is something fierce and feral beneath that calm exterior. A caged lion that would leap upon the enemies of those closest to him, rending them to shreds beneath its talons. If I'd known the name of my assailant or what he looked like beneath his armor, I have no doubt that the Brass Blades would have found blood in the streets by morning. Again, he impressed his insistence that I call upon him should I ever need to go to Ul'dah again or anywhere else that might hazard my person.
In retrospect, I am reminded that Blake made a similar offer to guard me during my forays afield to gather herbs and supplies. It makes me wonder what I engender in people to make them want to protect me? Mayhaps it is naught but that I am a simple scholar and botanist with little to no martial skill, a defenseless sort of waif that might lend them a small bit of heroism. I confess that I find it all somewhat comforting, knowing there are those willing to watch my back and ensure my safety. It's a sense of security I have never had before now, relying only on my own wit and will to survive.
Cupcakes & Curiosities
It was a curious sort of day that began in an unexpected manner. Cupcakes.
"A mission of great import," is what the Elezen Wildwood called them upon his arrival. He introduced himself as Irridias Velnyx, an Officer of the Company, namely a Chronicler. Exactly what the position entails I wasn't quite made clear on, but it seems to be a conglomeration of all the various branches; a jack of all trades, yet master of none. Oddly, it seemed to suit him, given the flippant and haphazard nature of his personality.
Yet, there was something that felt oddly morose about him. I'm not sure if it was merely the subtle changes I saw in his countenance when he thought he was unobserved or in some of the more caustic jokes he made, oft at his own expense. It makes me wonder if the flippancy is merely a mask and that some other manner of man lies underneath. Might it be the warrior, scarred by a lifetime of battle? Or the the intelligence agent whose secrets are so layered beneath secrets that finding the truth of him would take a lifetime to unravel?
The flirtation might have been overplaying his hand to disarm me, I think. We'll see how well he follows through with his intelligence gathering.
After that encounter, I spent some hours afield gathering a few items that Raisan Arcmantle, Saint of the Crafting Branch, expressed a need for. Though I've not really encountered the Saint beyond passing him in the halls on occasion or at meetings, the adoration with which Miss Lilia Lia speaks of him gives me cause to trust and like him solely on that. For all the work I do for him, I really should meet the man properly. He just always seems so busy in the workshop...
Spending so much time out-of-doors always makes me loathe to cloister myself away inside, so I took the liberty of fetching some tea from the kitchens to take with me out to the yard. I hadn't expected company, but it still came in the form of Blake Forester, an Au Ra gentleman that continues to both confuse and surprise me. There is a sullenness that seems to be his common mode, as if the world-at-large irritates or infuriates him at turns. Yet, there are moments that seem to glimmer through, like a dim ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a rain. Moments where he almost seems to let his guard down and allow me to glimpse something of the man in turmoil beneath.
There is a... loneliness to him or perhaps a lone-wolfishness. At times he seems to crave company, but at others it's as if he wants nothing more than his freedom and isolation. Both are feelings I know well, considering how oft I still feel them myself. It is hard to reconcile everything I have lived and experienced up to this point: the hatred, the violence, the prejudice and allow myself to let my guard down fully, to enjoy the people of the Company and everything it has to offer. I keep expecting to find those old blood feuds somewhere, particularly among the Wildwoods and the Hyur, but thusfar I've encountered naught. It gives me hope for the world yet. And hope for people like Blake who need some drawing out from behind their cloistered shells.
Still, I worry that something I said or did during the course of our encounter might have upset or offended Blake. At the end of our meeting, I could almost physically feel the way he shut me out and closed himself off again. I would not want to weary him of my presence, but there is a part of me that feels I should seek him out to try and remedy things. If I am at fault, then I have no issue with admitting I was wrong and doing my best to correct myself. Yet, I must needs get to the heart of the matter first and, for that, I must needs find the man himself.
It wasn't long after Blake departed than none other than Erimmont Chevalier came sauntering into the yard as he sometimes does. With his patient living in Lavender Beds, he finds his way to the Harbingers' yard quite often. There was an exasperation to him tonight that was unusual for him, under any other circumstance he is the quintessential gentleman of leisure; needing nothing and no one, seeking only to charm and disarm with his entertaining wit and artful anecdotes from his life as a writer. It was an exasperation that only seemed to multiply when Emeraven Stormrose came upon us, so I did what I thought was best and took a walk with him away from the grounds.
I plied him for the heart of his concerns and I was relieved to find it was nothing more than his patient being unduly difficult. Given the late stages of her pregnancy, I'm sure this is all normal and to be expected, but I find that I have no small amount of pity for Erimmont for having to endure it. Women can be difficult even at the best of times, in such a delicate condition some can become downright tyrannical! So, I let him vent for a time, which seemed to much improve his mood.
There has always been something about Erimmont that sets me at ease, as if I could tell him any secret and he would guard it as closely as he does his own. So, I entrusted him with some of the matters that have been troubling me of late, particularly concerning Miss Stormrose and the odd encounter that I had with her only some few nights ago. It has since left me feeling somewhat frightened and concerned, both for Emeraven and myself for getting involved in such madness. It was no small comfort when Erimmont offered to watch my back, insisting I call for him on the personal linkpearl he entrusted to me, should the need arise.
He noticed the bruises on my neck, left behind by the assault made upon my person by the Ishgardian in Ul'dah. It was only then that I saw something of what Erimmont hides behind his gentlemanly repose. There is something fierce and feral beneath that calm exterior. A caged lion that would leap upon the enemies of those closest to him, rending them to shreds beneath its talons. If I'd known the name of my assailant or what he looked like beneath his armor, I have no doubt that the Brass Blades would have found blood in the streets by morning. Again, he impressed his insistence that I call upon him should I ever need to go to Ul'dah again or anywhere else that might hazard my person.
In retrospect, I am reminded that Blake made a similar offer to guard me during my forays afield to gather herbs and supplies. It makes me wonder what I engender in people to make them want to protect me? Mayhaps it is naught but that I am a simple scholar and botanist with little to no martial skill, a defenseless sort of waif that might lend them a small bit of heroism. I confess that I find it all somewhat comforting, knowing there are those willing to watch my back and ensure my safety. It's a sense of security I have never had before now, relying only on my own wit and will to survive.