Franz awoke in the morning feeling the same as any other: tired, unamused, slightly grumpy. The sun would be rising soon enough, and if he were to get any kind of exercise done before the heat of the desert caught up, it would be now. Putting on a loose shirt and some slops, the Garlean inspected himself for any noticeable bruises from the sparring he was in the day prior.Â
"None again, as usual."
With that, he began a jog on the borders of the city to warm up, and then his daily training regimen, forever carved into his memory from the time he must have been a Garlean soldier. A couple bells later, he would return,  body aching from the hell it had endured. He may not have needed to go to that extent, but what worth would there be in a man who had already lost everything else, if he left himself go? Keeping himself fit was for himself alone. Afterwords, he would treat himself to a bath of cold water and another lackluster Eorzean breakfast, completing the morning.
In his mind, he was sure if he made a proper meal, Natalie would likely burst through some door of the house and ridicule him for eating too much. Still, as much as she poked fun at him, he didn't particularly mind it. Natalie had been one of the first people he'd really met in Eorzea and he was thankful of that. The lively miqo'te had seen him not as a Garlean, not as an enemy, but as a some sort of friend, and he never understood why. He wouldn't have been surprised to see her saunter in to the house, drunk, the very instant he sat down to eat. It was both relieving and unsettling. A strange calmness, as if the people who lived there were all away. It was still. He paid it little mind, however, and proceeded to go about the day.Â
He would start with perusing through the Arrzaneth Ossuary for anything interesting to read. While the little thaumaturges held high value for their countless books of magic, they did still have have a few on other topics. Perhaps he would find one on the Allags, Amdaporeans, or Nymians, his favorite three destroyed people. Their magic, interesting. Their destruction, beautiful. It gave his view of Eorzea balance. One that showed despite the land's best attempts to rule itself, its own forces would bring its undoing. Besides, a stack of book next to a Highlander-sized man would certainly give the people something to talk about in hushed whispers. A small smile crept on his face from the thought of it. After all, he may not be fighting for the Garleans, but there was still an odd humor in seeing people look at him in fear or confusion.
"None again, as usual."
With that, he began a jog on the borders of the city to warm up, and then his daily training regimen, forever carved into his memory from the time he must have been a Garlean soldier. A couple bells later, he would return,  body aching from the hell it had endured. He may not have needed to go to that extent, but what worth would there be in a man who had already lost everything else, if he left himself go? Keeping himself fit was for himself alone. Afterwords, he would treat himself to a bath of cold water and another lackluster Eorzean breakfast, completing the morning.
In his mind, he was sure if he made a proper meal, Natalie would likely burst through some door of the house and ridicule him for eating too much. Still, as much as she poked fun at him, he didn't particularly mind it. Natalie had been one of the first people he'd really met in Eorzea and he was thankful of that. The lively miqo'te had seen him not as a Garlean, not as an enemy, but as a some sort of friend, and he never understood why. He wouldn't have been surprised to see her saunter in to the house, drunk, the very instant he sat down to eat. It was both relieving and unsettling. A strange calmness, as if the people who lived there were all away. It was still. He paid it little mind, however, and proceeded to go about the day.Â
He would start with perusing through the Arrzaneth Ossuary for anything interesting to read. While the little thaumaturges held high value for their countless books of magic, they did still have have a few on other topics. Perhaps he would find one on the Allags, Amdaporeans, or Nymians, his favorite three destroyed people. Their magic, interesting. Their destruction, beautiful. It gave his view of Eorzea balance. One that showed despite the land's best attempts to rule itself, its own forces would bring its undoing. Besides, a stack of book next to a Highlander-sized man would certainly give the people something to talk about in hushed whispers. A small smile crept on his face from the thought of it. After all, he may not be fighting for the Garleans, but there was still an odd humor in seeing people look at him in fear or confusion.
