"You know, Avis, you're remarkably cheerful for someone all in black for an ex-boyfriend's death anniversary," the merchant Kokoniku Papaniku said, watching his Hyur companion, Ul'dahn exile Avis Inkwood, making tiny noises of glee while running her fingers through a mound of glittering purple. She didn't look up.
"I'm not the one who shows up today, of all days, with a girl's favorite dresses from the weavers." Avis lifted the cloth and breathed in its lace. "A girl's favorite dresses, all wrapped and packaged with a bow to boot, as though it's her birthday."
It was a cool night at Limsa Lominsa, the breezes strong, but the touch of lamplight from near them was warm and light - the pair sat out in the open but felt the setting curiously cosy, as though the night held them snug. It befit the reunion of two long-estranged best friends well.Â
"I bought them, by the way," Kokoniku grumbled. "Your parents had them selling at the Sapphire for the most bewildering prices. I think they comfort themselves for their loss of you by aspiring to make as much money from it as they possibly can."Â
"That," Avis declared, surprised at how little bitterness she felt towards them after everything that had happened, "comforts me. You see, mourning is wasteful. Learning to smell the roses - and the cesspits - is the only way we do justice to the dead. Or the good as dead." She was beginning to realize that this, this relative contentment, was the magic of Limsa Lominsa: the changing winds, the crash and solemnity of the sea that both anchored and drove; she could move lightly, lightly. "We live on their behalf."
She could almost see Kokoniku roll his eyes. "And I was worried about you. I came all the way here because I was worried about you. Anyway, in other more important news, your sister Alexis has come to terms with hair loss and is now sporting an insufferable wig."Â
Avis smiled. If she closed her eyes, did her best, the strains of gruff chatter and clatter from the Drowning Wench, some distance away, could sound like what she was used to and loved at the Quicksand. In an alternate universe, Avis's desires melded into one; he would be here, Jasper, one arm around her waist and a leg up on the ledge, which she would snidely chide off; Jasper, giving a shout of jubilation at his first sight of the sea. Yes, today she would choose to remember and imagine him this way, in his adventure-struck prime, cresting the wind and the waves in his mind - as though he had not really gone under these forces larger than he was.Â
Without warning, Avis pulled the Lalafell into a brief embrace. "Thank you," she told him, "for crossing the skies for me today." Kokoniku gave a squeak, unaccustomed, for Avis was rarely physically affectionate towards her friends. She sensed his embarrassment, saw the faint flush on his face, and felt a deep chuckle of amusement bubbling up from within.
"I'm not the one who shows up today, of all days, with a girl's favorite dresses from the weavers." Avis lifted the cloth and breathed in its lace. "A girl's favorite dresses, all wrapped and packaged with a bow to boot, as though it's her birthday."
It was a cool night at Limsa Lominsa, the breezes strong, but the touch of lamplight from near them was warm and light - the pair sat out in the open but felt the setting curiously cosy, as though the night held them snug. It befit the reunion of two long-estranged best friends well.Â
"I bought them, by the way," Kokoniku grumbled. "Your parents had them selling at the Sapphire for the most bewildering prices. I think they comfort themselves for their loss of you by aspiring to make as much money from it as they possibly can."Â
"That," Avis declared, surprised at how little bitterness she felt towards them after everything that had happened, "comforts me. You see, mourning is wasteful. Learning to smell the roses - and the cesspits - is the only way we do justice to the dead. Or the good as dead." She was beginning to realize that this, this relative contentment, was the magic of Limsa Lominsa: the changing winds, the crash and solemnity of the sea that both anchored and drove; she could move lightly, lightly. "We live on their behalf."
She could almost see Kokoniku roll his eyes. "And I was worried about you. I came all the way here because I was worried about you. Anyway, in other more important news, your sister Alexis has come to terms with hair loss and is now sporting an insufferable wig."Â
Avis smiled. If she closed her eyes, did her best, the strains of gruff chatter and clatter from the Drowning Wench, some distance away, could sound like what she was used to and loved at the Quicksand. In an alternate universe, Avis's desires melded into one; he would be here, Jasper, one arm around her waist and a leg up on the ledge, which she would snidely chide off; Jasper, giving a shout of jubilation at his first sight of the sea. Yes, today she would choose to remember and imagine him this way, in his adventure-struck prime, cresting the wind and the waves in his mind - as though he had not really gone under these forces larger than he was.Â
Without warning, Avis pulled the Lalafell into a brief embrace. "Thank you," she told him, "for crossing the skies for me today." Kokoniku gave a squeak, unaccustomed, for Avis was rarely physically affectionate towards her friends. She sensed his embarrassment, saw the faint flush on his face, and felt a deep chuckle of amusement bubbling up from within.
[sub]Avis Inkwood | Qara Qalli
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