It had been a strange week.
Sitting on the beach outside the Harbingers' Estate, Anstarra watched the snow slowly drifting down - an 'aethereal phenomenon', Barb had called it last year, which was the same as saying she had no bloody idea what caused it - and reflected how strangeness really was a matter of perspective. Here, in nigh-tropical La Noscea, snow, real snow, was falling. It didn't linger, but it didn't look to stop either. At least, after last year, people kind of saw it coming, so there was less cursing and doomsday-wailing than there had been that time. The farmers still looked less than thrilled.
To Anstarra, it was a godsend.
"What is it about the cold..." she mused. A snowflake landed in her hand, melted, was replaced by another. She grinned. "Clear, clear. No more yammering. No more bloody dragons. No more Dravanian national anthem. 'Lat dah dah, Dravaniaaa-' no, shut up."
She tapped her lips with her index finger, glanced over her shoulder. The girl with the leaf fan was too busy shivering in her bikini to notice. "Maybe a bit of talking to myself left over," An muttered. She gestured at the girl, who started fanning her again. Anstarra had tried to tell her to go indoors, but no, she refused, so, at least she could warm up by doing her job. Even if the wind blew snowflakes in An's face. The price of charity.
"'tis the season." A curious glance. "For snow. And charity." The poor girl grinned, fanned a bit harder.
Settling back in the chair, Anstarra sighed in relief. Even the minor discomfort of the snow fanned into her eyes didn't compare to hearing voices. A low-rent, ongoing murmur, filled with impulse and suggestion and anger, ever since she touched that bloody relic that the dragon's corpse vomited up after they'd finished hacking its head off. Or before. Or sometime. It rather blurred. All she remembered was that that OTHER fool had tossed it to her, and -bam- it was like the Dragoon stone all over again.
"At least THAT experience prepared me for this..." she murmured. Her head tilted. "I do hope they did something smart with that relic. Like destroyed it. Better ask Verad next I see him." She frowned now. "And I'd better find out where the bleeding thing came from in the first place. If it comes out that I got caught up in a dust-up between Dravania and Ishgard, and a dragon, in THANALAN of all places-"
"Dragons in Thanalan??"
Anstarra glared at the girl with the fan, who yelped and returned to her fanning, cheeks red. "No. That would be ludicrous. Shush now. Or I'll find an even skimpier bikini for you to wear. Maybe a three-piece."
"How would that even-"
A warning finger, raised.
"Eep!"
Anstarra hid a smile as she settled back once more, the red-cheeked girl fanning once again with renewed vigor and admirable silence. The Seeker woman watched her a bit, then closed her eyes, lacing her fingers behind her head. Snow on a beach...
Yes, things were looking up...
It couldn't last.
Sitting on the beach outside the Harbingers' Estate, Anstarra watched the snow slowly drifting down - an 'aethereal phenomenon', Barb had called it last year, which was the same as saying she had no bloody idea what caused it - and reflected how strangeness really was a matter of perspective. Here, in nigh-tropical La Noscea, snow, real snow, was falling. It didn't linger, but it didn't look to stop either. At least, after last year, people kind of saw it coming, so there was less cursing and doomsday-wailing than there had been that time. The farmers still looked less than thrilled.
To Anstarra, it was a godsend.
"What is it about the cold..." she mused. A snowflake landed in her hand, melted, was replaced by another. She grinned. "Clear, clear. No more yammering. No more bloody dragons. No more Dravanian national anthem. 'Lat dah dah, Dravaniaaa-' no, shut up."
She tapped her lips with her index finger, glanced over her shoulder. The girl with the leaf fan was too busy shivering in her bikini to notice. "Maybe a bit of talking to myself left over," An muttered. She gestured at the girl, who started fanning her again. Anstarra had tried to tell her to go indoors, but no, she refused, so, at least she could warm up by doing her job. Even if the wind blew snowflakes in An's face. The price of charity.
"'tis the season." A curious glance. "For snow. And charity." The poor girl grinned, fanned a bit harder.
Settling back in the chair, Anstarra sighed in relief. Even the minor discomfort of the snow fanned into her eyes didn't compare to hearing voices. A low-rent, ongoing murmur, filled with impulse and suggestion and anger, ever since she touched that bloody relic that the dragon's corpse vomited up after they'd finished hacking its head off. Or before. Or sometime. It rather blurred. All she remembered was that that OTHER fool had tossed it to her, and -bam- it was like the Dragoon stone all over again.
"At least THAT experience prepared me for this..." she murmured. Her head tilted. "I do hope they did something smart with that relic. Like destroyed it. Better ask Verad next I see him." She frowned now. "And I'd better find out where the bleeding thing came from in the first place. If it comes out that I got caught up in a dust-up between Dravania and Ishgard, and a dragon, in THANALAN of all places-"
"Dragons in Thanalan??"
Anstarra glared at the girl with the fan, who yelped and returned to her fanning, cheeks red. "No. That would be ludicrous. Shush now. Or I'll find an even skimpier bikini for you to wear. Maybe a three-piece."
"How would that even-"
A warning finger, raised.
"Eep!"
Anstarra hid a smile as she settled back once more, the red-cheeked girl fanning once again with renewed vigor and admirable silence. The Seeker woman watched her a bit, then closed her eyes, lacing her fingers behind her head. Snow on a beach...
Yes, things were looking up...
It couldn't last.
![[Image: MBLxxyE.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/MBLxxyE.gif)
