Character: Staelufre Lysmerl
Watching: Oscare Iono
The basement of the Still Shore was a restful place. She enjoyed the cushioned chairs that sat in the library, and the expansive map table that told of all of Eorzea. Not even Valenor's room bothered her, despite how odd it smelled at times. No, she quite liked the quiet little place that no one but the officers seemed to remember. The books were fascinating enough to take up bells of time, while she sat in odd positions on the rugs or in the chairs. Conversation drifted down, but she primarily ignored it. People came and went. That was, until something made her ears prick. An unknown male speaking, saying, "The rancor exists. I hear their screams, the yelps of all those dead that I murdered with my own hands." Intrigued by who was speaking about murder in the common room, the miqo'te crept up the stairs and perched upon them.
His voice kept on, clearer now that she wasn't hidden behind bookshelves and a ceiling. "My lover bleeding within my own arms and sentence of death. The Calamity is the only reason why I'm alive. It allowed me my escape." The Calamity? And who was this unknown man trying to escape from? She leaned against the wall, letting her body go utterly still. Listening, rather than watching this time around. If he did not want everyone to know it, she felt it proper that he should speak of it in a more private place than the lounge of her free company's house.
Then, of all surprises, a familiar voice spoke. Solkeim, the Blessed Violet. Perhaps this should not be so shocking. Solkeim carried great love and care for the whole realm, and it would be well within her capabilities to tend to someone who sounded so torn up about their past. "War and the Calamity have torn many. The few it have not are really the outsiders. Need not carry that burden; many can handle your pain and is much easier to bear with more shoulders holding it." She did not understand, it seemed, to heed the true message of his words. But the sentiment was sweet. She was offering this stranger help with the torments he suffered. Pure, kind Solkeim. Such generosity was rare, and thus Staelufre coveted it as much as she feared it'd be taken advantage of.
"I don't think you understand, the Calamity wasn't what caused all those deaths. My entire cohort... I personally wiped them out, one by one." Cohort. Her ears perked. Cohort was an Imperial term. She knew of no one within Eorzea's continent to assign cohorts of troops about. This man who Solkeim cared for so was of the enemy's allegiance. A Garlean. Yet a traitor to his own kind. Did this make him safe, or only more dangerous? To have systematically destroyed one's own cohort showed a dangerous inability to feel empathy or loyalty. It made him more dangerous, in her mind. If he could not even ally himself to his own nation, what did that mean for him in a land he did not grow up in? She seethed, but remained silently sitting. It would do no good to interrupt now.
"To escape? To leave the duress they pushed upon you? All hate war... 'I hate as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.'... must needs not leave out why." Solkeim was seeking reason for his traitorous behavior. She wished to believe, and Staelufre's heart yearned for her friend. Do not so easily believe a man who could kill his own friends, she begged silently.
"I overstayed my welcome for now. I need to head back to the Agents. Stay safe, and heal nicely..." The rest he mumbled, but she caught "...thank Byregot..." before they both moved for the door. The agents? Staelufre's tail twitched, fluffed up in irritation. She could not trust this shadow of a man. Waiting many breaths, she followed out the door and walked right past them, before rounding parallel to the aqueducts and hiding beneath the wall. They said their farewells, and nothing more was caught. Staelufre couldn't resist. She popped up and asked the ever-yearning question.
"Who was that?"
"Is Oscare, fairly good hunter and something of a friend. Very lost within his own thoughts though, sadly. Is all I can do to try to lead him out of them to the confident man he once was," explained Jancis. Oscare. She had the name now, and knew who to be wary of. She'd seen his face, and his posture. If he was not silent of his heritage, Staelufre felt it only safest to warn those who could protect her home best.
Watching: Oscare Iono
The basement of the Still Shore was a restful place. She enjoyed the cushioned chairs that sat in the library, and the expansive map table that told of all of Eorzea. Not even Valenor's room bothered her, despite how odd it smelled at times. No, she quite liked the quiet little place that no one but the officers seemed to remember. The books were fascinating enough to take up bells of time, while she sat in odd positions on the rugs or in the chairs. Conversation drifted down, but she primarily ignored it. People came and went. That was, until something made her ears prick. An unknown male speaking, saying, "The rancor exists. I hear their screams, the yelps of all those dead that I murdered with my own hands." Intrigued by who was speaking about murder in the common room, the miqo'te crept up the stairs and perched upon them.
His voice kept on, clearer now that she wasn't hidden behind bookshelves and a ceiling. "My lover bleeding within my own arms and sentence of death. The Calamity is the only reason why I'm alive. It allowed me my escape." The Calamity? And who was this unknown man trying to escape from? She leaned against the wall, letting her body go utterly still. Listening, rather than watching this time around. If he did not want everyone to know it, she felt it proper that he should speak of it in a more private place than the lounge of her free company's house.
Then, of all surprises, a familiar voice spoke. Solkeim, the Blessed Violet. Perhaps this should not be so shocking. Solkeim carried great love and care for the whole realm, and it would be well within her capabilities to tend to someone who sounded so torn up about their past. "War and the Calamity have torn many. The few it have not are really the outsiders. Need not carry that burden; many can handle your pain and is much easier to bear with more shoulders holding it." She did not understand, it seemed, to heed the true message of his words. But the sentiment was sweet. She was offering this stranger help with the torments he suffered. Pure, kind Solkeim. Such generosity was rare, and thus Staelufre coveted it as much as she feared it'd be taken advantage of.
"I don't think you understand, the Calamity wasn't what caused all those deaths. My entire cohort... I personally wiped them out, one by one." Cohort. Her ears perked. Cohort was an Imperial term. She knew of no one within Eorzea's continent to assign cohorts of troops about. This man who Solkeim cared for so was of the enemy's allegiance. A Garlean. Yet a traitor to his own kind. Did this make him safe, or only more dangerous? To have systematically destroyed one's own cohort showed a dangerous inability to feel empathy or loyalty. It made him more dangerous, in her mind. If he could not even ally himself to his own nation, what did that mean for him in a land he did not grow up in? She seethed, but remained silently sitting. It would do no good to interrupt now.
"To escape? To leave the duress they pushed upon you? All hate war... 'I hate as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.'... must needs not leave out why." Solkeim was seeking reason for his traitorous behavior. She wished to believe, and Staelufre's heart yearned for her friend. Do not so easily believe a man who could kill his own friends, she begged silently.
"I overstayed my welcome for now. I need to head back to the Agents. Stay safe, and heal nicely..." The rest he mumbled, but she caught "...thank Byregot..." before they both moved for the door. The agents? Staelufre's tail twitched, fluffed up in irritation. She could not trust this shadow of a man. Waiting many breaths, she followed out the door and walked right past them, before rounding parallel to the aqueducts and hiding beneath the wall. They said their farewells, and nothing more was caught. Staelufre couldn't resist. She popped up and asked the ever-yearning question.
"Who was that?"
"Is Oscare, fairly good hunter and something of a friend. Very lost within his own thoughts though, sadly. Is all I can do to try to lead him out of them to the confident man he once was," explained Jancis. Oscare. She had the name now, and knew who to be wary of. She'd seen his face, and his posture. If he was not silent of his heritage, Staelufre felt it only safest to warn those who could protect her home best.
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