Hydaelyn Role-Players

P'rita, returning from a rough day in her dealings, smelling like cheap booze through her clothes checked in on Arala's child, Sogno. The bright skinned child happy to see her 'Aunt' while she was living at her Grandfather until Arala's name was cleared. 

She combed through her short hey black hair for any signs of glass fragments, striping down her attire to clean herself of the smell. The warm bath with a healing salve cleaned her minor wounds up with ease and relieved most aches. Her time in the bath was spent looking up at the ceiling in a trance, her recent spar with the Hyur named Flynt was fun and all, but she could not pinpoint what made her really interested in the guy. 

"...He is a fool..." P'rita whispered, caressing her neck where the visible cut wound remained on her body. Horrible memories she dared not show. The rest of her body had various wounds from burns to slices. All from years of fighting and working. Just seeing such battlescars slowly reminded the Keeper of what she could of been. Her envy emerald eyes dimmed at the thought.

Finally she would emerge from the bath, cleaned from the smell and wearing a more casual piece that was common for Eorzeans and hiding the neck injury with a choker. She noticed the male Keeper before her kneeling at the short table. His moon white eyes and small heard showed his age. His skin as dark as the night as was his hair. Both his arms replaced with metal prosthetics made by someone named Ninifae Nira. The food laid out and waiting of a typical Doman dinner while the other setting was a common place Ul'dah dish with meat.

"Master, you eat meat? Since when?" P'rita asked, kneeling at her side. The Keeper smiled and replied "Since I came to Ul'dah. I had to fool people after all." he said. Cutting into the junk of cooked meat to consume. P'rita meanwhile took her time with small notes of her dishes. Taking much care to eat her rice. It was quiet....and then P'rita asked...

"Am I pretty?" 

The keeper male blinked his eyes in confusion.

"Of course...but why did you- oh. I bet you found a guy you like." the old man chuckled just as a knife whizzed by his head.

"Shut up! I asked because I was given that compliment before and...well...I never had someone compliment me a lot before." the flustered woman admitted. She couldn't speak of his name since she may not know if her master knew him. The old keeper thought for a moment, then said...

"You are interested in this guy. Right?"

To which she replied in a very flustered manner.

"Yeah. I mean, the guy is mysterious and no information exists about him from what I could find on my own. I feel like it gives me a real challenge to find out more. What his favorite food is, his hobbies, what fighting stances he knows....but then again..." P'rita placed her utensils down and in a somber tone added onto that.

"He would never really settle on one girl. I get the feeling he doesn't want one girl. That he may really want a child. That maybe he humors me because of my loss...or he could just be playing my emotions. Acting all charming and swave for his own sick reason." again, she grabbed the choker around her neck like a tick. Painful reminders. 

"I'm useless...garbage...I'm banged up and scratched. I can't bear children. I can't cook the local food well. He is better off with girls his own age." she spent her time stirring her soup and watching the small tofu pieces float about. Never touching each other as the fish based broth settled. The old man quietly sat and listened. He then flicked P'rita's forehead lightly.

"You are an idiot. I didn't train you to be this melancholy. You don't need to be the brightest and vibrant blade in the shop. They shatter in an instant...but honed and dirty blades will be forever cared for. Resistant to harm and endure pain. Beauty is not on the surface. He shows interest in you, right?" 

P'rita was silent. Thinking to how Flynt acted and even chased after her. Sure it was brief but despite what they said, she felt some confidence. It made her determined to find more about him.

"I'll try...but I don't want another broken heart." she said, rubbing the collar on her neck. The old man chuckled. "That is more like it. Be cautious and if he is not into you then so be it."

That night, P'rita wrote a small message and handed it to her tint black Chocobo chick. "Here...give this to the Hyena. It is priority mail." and with a chirp the chick took off into the night. Looking for Flynt. Hoping to find him.

"Write your favorite food and send it back to me. -P'rita"

On a long, pointless walk down the fields of La Noscea, the good Major ambled for something to do. Heckling passers-by can only provide so much entertainment, he needed food, the hungry bastard. Nearing the walled gates of Aleport, a small Chocobo fluttered down to him, bearing a message; "Write your favorite food and send it back to me. -P'rita".


Flynt eyed the note, finding such absurdity in it's meaning that he felt the need to meet it with his unique brand of wit. He led the little bird to tail him into one of the few bars the bargemen have for respite on their long travels. Taking the note and flipping it over, he scribbled:

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---

Feeling proud of his work, he settled over a meal of marmot and ale, despite his harsh distaste for the drink. At this point, he was too smug to give a damn, giving the bird some of the bread placed on the small dish by the main course and shooing it off with a pat over the head and a note in possession.

Perfect, ingenious, he's outdone himself; the perfect reply. Though honestly, it wasn't phenomenal, to Flynt it was. He kicked up his heels and let the time fly by, tipping the barkeep handsomely to assure nobody will bother the eccentric loiterer, biding his time.

It took her a moment to realize how embarrassing it felt to write that. She circulated her thoughts over and over. Was it too forward? Was it vague? Should she of done something else?

Never the less, she waited patiently. Her eyes looking to the window as she waited for the small messenger to fly in any moment now. And he was late at least by her normal calculations. She was worried if the bird was intercepted...but that is impossible. The note she wrote was nothing that was considered valuable to third parties. Just as she was about to go out, the Chocobo chick came in and perched itself on the windowsill. The note in his grasp. P'rita took a look at what he wrote...

"Of course he would write that..." she sighed, tossing the now crumpled note to the side before collapsing on her bed.
 
P'rita knew it would be a challenge but this was something different than she expected. Again, she overthought everything. Was he toying with her to mess with her, or was he seriously trying to get her to speak up more? What would she of gained if he did write his favorite food down? She doubt her cooking skills were of the level to satisfy even a dog, let alone a hyena like Flynt. P'rita was one who liked a challenge, and she will keep trying until she falls on her face and fails hard.

---

And with a turn of time, the dawn came. Early to rise like usual, P'rita would take her time slow and ease herself into the routine. Sharpening her knives, mending any holes in her clothes and grabbing her usual supplies that include such things like flash bombs and decoys. All for emergency intent only. She fixed her hair under the bandana, placed a small hat on her tiny companion and set out on her job. She had a linkpearl connection with former rival clans to help continue the tradition of sharing information and they would talk whenever jobs open up or they needed an extra hand. But today it was more laid back.
P'rita wasn't one to relax like most. In fact, she had no idea how to have fun. It was then she had an idea. With a note in hand, she wrote down another small note. As it stands, this was their only way of communicating without a Linkshell. That and P'rita never trusted the Moogle Mail system.

"What does one do for fun?" - P'rita


Hopefully this time she would get a real answer unlike the last time. Yet he could just write down other responses or mock her for being too serious. P'rita attached the note to the Chocobo and told it to find the same person. it happily took off quickly. P'rita for the time decided to relax on the edge of a building. Letting her feet swing and feeling the somewhat cool air upon the capital of Thanalan. Had it not been for it's castle like structure, it would remind her of her home again.

Over some several hours into his bar-lounging, the good Major thought to himself the time-old revelation of:

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---

Tossing his heels off the oaken tabletop of the Aleport tavern, he meanders back off into the wild. Heading northbound for a refreshing dip in Camp Bronze Lake's springs, it was a few yalms near Memeroon's outpost where a small black bird came fluttering down with another damn note. Nabbing the letter and slip-shoddily unfurling it from it's bindings he braced himself and began reading it;"What does one do for fun?" - P'rita.


Oh, joy, this one's a bit more on the nose, now isn't it? What does one do for fun? You'd assume fun was subjective, my pleasure is your displeasure and vice versa. Then you look at it from a literal perspective of hedonism, to seek pleasure; isn't that fun on it's own? Oh... There it is again, the tell tale notation of when he's thinking too hard on mundane queries:

---

---

Regardless, he fed the annoying little courier more snacks from his bag as he thought over the question on Memeroon's Ferry across Bronze Lake. Looking over the Wanderer's Palace, he found some respite in the visuals, easing his thoughts to a more reasonable pace. He produced a fountain pen from his satchel, taking the note and flipping it over to a blank space, proceeding to pen down:

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---

Like hell he was going to going to give her that honesty she wanted, not that easily, at least. She ambled into Flynt's territory, where answers are scarce and questions are made. In due time, perhaps, but for now, Flynt took pride in his work of ambiguity (and subsequent ignorance through his farce). With a smile, he handed the note back to the messenger, waving it off into wherever it damn so felt like going. Off to Camp Bronze Lake, now, to arbitrarily idle in the springs until somebody tells him to leave or he finds means to move his lazy ass from a comfortable perch in the springs. Such is life for a man like Flynt. He found a fondness to P'rita, through pity perhaps? Maybe her dedicated want of knowledge pertaining to the Hyena was flattering, thus sparking some interest? Regardless, he waited for the next letter in silence, only the sound of rushing water and rolling thunder to stimulate his senses.

P'rita was a patient one, Curious to his reply. Her time walking through Ul'dah, idly ease-dropping on conversations and then some was part of her job. She always seemed uninterested but her ears could hear a lot. The noise of the crowd only turned into selected conversations. Tuning out the rabble and focusing on what was more interesting. That is until she saw her little friend fly down. The note on him was like a small present. P'rita opened it and the reply was at least something.

"Seems like my options are limited now." P'rita gently rubbed the underside of the chick's neck. She kept walking down, heading past the market and into the alleyways inside Ul'dah that the poor and some of the more law breaking citizens would take part in. She wandered with her mind on ideas, she figured she could make her own fun with giving him more questions. In fact, she got right onto the letter and wrote something down for him to read. She could of told him right off the bat but where was the fun in that?

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"My favorite fruit is one that is considered expensive each one. Round like an orb and filled to the brim with tiny red gems. Born as a flower and develops a hard exterior. Find the right fruit and you get a prize." - P'rita

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Surely he would appreciate a challenge as well. P'rita tied the note to the tiny black bird, sending it off as she continued her stroll in the city. Eventually ending up back around. The fruit she craved was meant to be shared in her opinion...but was that a justified reward? No. She might have to do something else instead. For the time she would stroll in the city without a care in the world. Humming a tune she remembered from her home.

Now pruned to an unsightly excuse of a Hyur, Flynt thought it was about damn time to go. His wandering would lead him to the rocky cliff of Outer La Noscea, where lo and behold, the bird came fluttering down. Again. It seems every couple hours the little avian has something to give, enjoyable, sure, but still rather immersion-breaking. Would you want to be assaulted by a miniature chocobo in a funny hat, whipping questions at you like some sort of fantasy paparazzi? Didn't think so. Thankfully, Flynt was a filthy attention whore, and viewed every letter as an ego boost. Reading the note, he felt... Less than stellar. Insulted, almost.

Without much hesitation at all, the answer was clear as day:

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---

His penmanship was a slipshod, conveying the near-reflexive answer with his penstrokes alone. By the density of Thal's left testicle has Flynt ever been so insulted, such a mundane question, read less as a riddle than a test of his wit; something that needs little testing, to be frank. He sat at Overlook, drumming his fingers over his bent knee as he sat on the airship landing, waiting for what she had to say now, if she could control the situation without inadvertently angering the straightforward gentleman.

P'rita once again waited for her feathery friend to return. When she did, the note attached to the bird was a treat. Taking the note, she read it with a little shock. They way it was written down and what words he used gave her the impression of being angry and annoyed.

"I must be annoying him..." she quietly said to herself, keeping the note in a small pouch for the time. She didn't mean to do harm or say he was stupid. Then again, when someone like P'rita, trained to have little interaction with anyone outside of family you bound to get somewhat lonely. The little chick pecked at her shoulder as if waiting for the next note.

"Sorry Incubo. That's all the notes I'm sending for now." P'rita said to the chick as she entered the Quicksand. Ah, the centerpiece of Ul'dah's adventurer's gathering place and the key location for her to learn more about anything at hand. Gossip, news or just innovations. This was the place. However it is not as soothing as say the streets since all the noise bounced off walls and were far louder. It was here that she took a spot in the corner and leaned against the wall. Thinking about how his recent reply made her feel like a pest. Annoying. It hurt her in a way but she didn't show it. 

The chick on the other hand didn't want to stick around. Instead, opting to fly off to find Flynt. Not for bread but mainly to hang around him. No way he could talk or spread anything around through word of mouth. P'rita noticed him taking off and just let it slide. Her time relaxing alone, watching people pass by. Eventually seeing the various women. Their skins so vibrant and unharmed. Their clothes not only stylish but some even exposing more skin than P'rita is use to. How they flaunted their bodies or took pride in their builds. Some with more muscles and others slim but not bone slim. Short hair made to look beautiful and long hair for elegance. It made P'rita jealous.

Jealous that she could of been like this.

Jealous that they were all pretty.

Jealous of how minimal their wound count is compared to her.

Jealous of them all!

P'rita spat on the ground in distaste to it all. 

"Their skins shine in the day and glow during the moon...I bet not even half of these so called fighting women even once stared death in the face and lived to tell about it..." 

It made her situation worse, realizing her age and how she missed out on her own social life. Before arriving in Ul'dah and seeing Arala for the first time and after the Garlean invasion, P'rita traveled a lot. Faced many battles with scars still left to this day. Even suffering depression and loneliness. She grabbed her choker once more.

"No...don't think about that, P'rita..." she quietly told herself. Maybe she should get a pomegranate to ease her nerves?

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Meanwhile, the chick would eventually find Flynt and kweh in joy to find him. Finding a suitable perch to land and inspect him. Curious just like his master. The chocobo's name on the front of his hat yet in small letters for some reason that read 'Incubo'.