Aioux sighed softly to himself, walking the streets of Ul'dah. He'd been walking in circles for hours trying to find a merchant that just might sell him the scorpions he needed. An odd request to be sure, but he had specific plans for the husks of the creatures. Peering through his monocle at the map that the last merchant had drawn him, he wandered the direction it directed. Which led him right through...
Well. If this wasn't familiar. He'd lived on a street like this for years after his ship had gone down, though that one been a bit more damp and smelled of rotten fish and brine. A brief grin crossed his face spawned by memories of the past... but a thought struck him and he glanced around. Why send him to a place like this for 'rare' insect husks, so out of the way and far from any common merchant's tent? To set him up...?
His eyes settled on a group of Elezen standing about the streets, attracting attention with their out of place garb and height. Out of place, to be sure. Hm... that must be what I look like. Forget that he was the shortest Elezen he'd met, his clothing would certainly stand out here and he was a head taller than most Miqo'te. The slurs, though... he knew them, all of them. He'd heard others called by them. Never him. When was a grey not a grey? When he wasn't very grey at all.
The sight of a few waifs turned his head, but it wasn't the children that worried him despite the danger they could pose. Getting mobbed by adolescents with sharp sticks wasn't on his itinerary for the day. No, it was the Midlander man in the shadows, knife in hand watching the woman with the bread. Aioux caught the man's eyes with his own, face deadly still as he stared at him unblinking. The man paused, then offered a snarl of bared teeth. Aioux returned it with a grin, wide and feral. A look of understanding crossed the man's face and he slid back into the shadows and vanished.
Aioux turned and approached the group, a gentle smile on his face, "What an odd place to find so many Elezen..." His eyes settled on Verad. Oh. He knew this one.
Well. If this wasn't familiar. He'd lived on a street like this for years after his ship had gone down, though that one been a bit more damp and smelled of rotten fish and brine. A brief grin crossed his face spawned by memories of the past... but a thought struck him and he glanced around. Why send him to a place like this for 'rare' insect husks, so out of the way and far from any common merchant's tent? To set him up...?
His eyes settled on a group of Elezen standing about the streets, attracting attention with their out of place garb and height. Out of place, to be sure. Hm... that must be what I look like. Forget that he was the shortest Elezen he'd met, his clothing would certainly stand out here and he was a head taller than most Miqo'te. The slurs, though... he knew them, all of them. He'd heard others called by them. Never him. When was a grey not a grey? When he wasn't very grey at all.
The sight of a few waifs turned his head, but it wasn't the children that worried him despite the danger they could pose. Getting mobbed by adolescents with sharp sticks wasn't on his itinerary for the day. No, it was the Midlander man in the shadows, knife in hand watching the woman with the bread. Aioux caught the man's eyes with his own, face deadly still as he stared at him unblinking. The man paused, then offered a snarl of bared teeth. Aioux returned it with a grin, wide and feral. A look of understanding crossed the man's face and he slid back into the shadows and vanished.
Aioux turned and approached the group, a gentle smile on his face, "What an odd place to find so many Elezen..." His eyes settled on Verad. Oh. He knew this one.
