It was busy at the illustrious Bismarck this sun, though not overly so; just enough to meld the various conversations going on into a sort of incomprehensible din of comment, retort, and the occasional piercing giggle. It almost mixed flawlessly with the sounds of the waves hitting the ivory outcroppings of rock that the Limsa Lominsa had been carved out of. And it was at a lone table tucked away from all the aimless chatter that Gogonji sat with a cup of tea and a length of ticker tape. The former purchased from the Bismarck itself, the latter brought to him by request from the Arcanist's Guild by some stuttering little slip of a Plainsfolk - Oriri or something. The Dunesfolk paid it little mind, though, since he had more important matters to attend to than remembering the name of some timid little clerk who couldn't even wrap her tiny mind around a basic Ruin equation.
Seriously, what kind of dunce couldn't even figure out...
CLANG!
The sound of metal hitting skull was wince-inducing, and Gogonji dropped his hammer in surprise. He confusion turned to worry and then to fear when he heard his younger brother burst into tears. He was away from the forge in an instant, his tongs left to melt away under the oppressive heat within. He fell upon little Chachanji like a mother couerl rescuing her kitten.
"<What happened?>" His question was both terse and yet full of concern as he pried the younger Gegenji's intertwined fingers apart from their protective clasp over his head. Not that he couldn't get a general enough idea - the axe that lay on its side next to his younger brother gave clue enough. There was no sign of blood on the thing, which was comforting enough in its own right, but Gogonji had to be certain.
"<I... I just... I wanted to... I wanted to look! And-and then it... it fell down and... and...>" Chachanji managed to stutter out between choked sobs and sniffles before returning to bawling again. A close glance showed that the kid's tough skull had absorbed most of the blow, and there wasn't any visible damage besides a sizable lump at the point of impact. Didn't seem like it even fractured his skull any. Probably got the hardheadedness from their father, Gogonji thought with a silent chuckle.
Speaking of their father, the Gegenji patriarch would've needed to be near deaf not to hear the wails that little Chachanji had belted out. The boy was supposed to be making up the homework their mother had assigned him, not fiddling around with Zozonji's finished products. If their father found him here like this, he would get a severe tongue-lashing from both parents.
"<Hush... hush...>" Gogonji cooed, gently running his hand through his brother's hair like his mother used to do for him on sleepless nights. While it did little to lessen the pain of the swelling bump, the ministrations at least reduced Chachanji to quiet hiccups and sniffles. "<Here, if you quiet down, I'll show you a magic trick.>"
"<M... magic?>"
Gogonji nodded. After finding a few tattered books on Nym and arcanima, the eldest Gegenji child had been quietly trying to learn it in whatever free time he could manage amongst his hefty schedule of lectures and training. He had been keeping it under wraps thus far, of course - since he was fairly certain his father would be against anything that didn't involve shaping him to become the new family head - but this was not only a chance to put his practice to the test, but to help his little brother as well.
"<Ready?>"
"<Y-yeah...>"
Gogonji immediately went to work, drawing upon his aetheric energies to draw a few symbols on the air between them. It left small trails of silvery light in its wake, which reflected clearly in his brother's wide, violet eyes. The formula was that of a "Physick" - or, at least, a simplified version for beginners of arcanima he had found in one of the tomes he had secreted into the house. Still, considering the look on Chachanji's face, he might as well be about to summon a dragon out of the forge.
"<Pain... pain... go away!>" the eldest Gegenji child murmured in a hokey, faux incantation sort of way as he brushed those silver-dipped fingertips along the bump. Like melted iron, the aether pooled out from his touch and spread over the injury. Within moments, the lump slowly shrank away to nothingness, leaving little Chachanji looking as hale as he had been before the accident. Well, minus the amazed look plastered on his freckled features.
"<Ah! The pain! It's gone!>" He quickly patted at the spot on his head where the bump had been. Once he had fully confirmed that the lump had vanished, he snatched out eagerly at his brother's fingers to get a closer look at the light glow on them as it faded into nothingness. It was only once that silvery light was gone altogether that those violet orbs snapped up to look at his older brother. "<How'd you do that!?>"
"<I told you,>" Gogonji responded smugly, wriggling his fingers in his sibling's face. "<Magic. Book-magic.>"
Any further bragging was cut short by the heavy footfalls of their father fast approaching the forge. Gogonji had managed to deal with one part of the problem. Now he just needed to figure out how to explain his brother's presence here rather than in his room where he was supposed to be. The fact that Chachanji continued to chirp and pester him about his arcanima wasn't helping matters either.
"<Look, if you stay quiet and let me handle this, I'll teach you how to do it too, okay?>" Gogonji hissed back over his shoulder as he stood, ready to meet the dour face of their father as Zozonji shoved open the sliding door. Thankfully, Chachanji was mesmerized enough by the promise to do as he was told. So, the older brother had little issue spinning a yarn about having forgotten his hammer in his room and he had talked Chachanji into getting it. His little brother was let off the hook, and all he got was a tired tirade on the importance of one's smithing tools...
"Refresh your tea?"
The simple question jerked Gogonji back from his memories and he looked about wildly for a moment. That's right, he was at the Bismarck in Limsa Lominsa. Not back home with his brother and the rest of his family. That was gone. They... were gone.
"H-hai," the green-haired Dunesfolk managed, staring down at his long-cooled tea.
"Yes, hello," the waitress responded curtly, she was busy enough without having to deal with a Lalafell intent on greetings. "Tea? Yes or no?"
"O-oh, err... y-yes please," Gogonji corrected himself, turning his attentions back to the ticker tape in the hopes to force back the blush of embarrassment creeping over his features. He needed to focus on the numbers anyway - gathering the necessary funds to construct more Rousers was not a simple process. The more he had, the more of his slowly growing collection of Soul Crystals he could carry with him to adapt to any situation. And he'd need that sort of flexibility for the plan that was slowly forming in his mind.
More Soul Crystals meant more knowledge meant more power, and he would need it all. Every last onze of it he could acquire. All to ensure that he could take revenge on the black-hearted nation that so flippantly took that his wide-eyed little brother away from him. That annoying, clingy, useless, lovable little...
"Um... sir?"
Gogonji blinked. He hadn't noticed his tightened grip had torn the ticker tape in two. Just as he hadn't noticed the wetness that even now dribbled down his cherub-like Lalafellan cheeks.
"N-nothing! It's nothing!" the Dunesfolk snapped. "Just leave me be!"
"Yes, sir," the waitress responded flippantly, more than happy to be away from the weird little Lalafell. A sharp turn on her heel and she strutted away with tea pot in hand. No doubt to go whisper amongst her vapid friends about the midget who started crying for no reason at one of her tables. She wouldn'tve understood, none of the Eorzean Alliance seemed to, considering how they all turned away the refugees one after the other. Why would they care about a bunch of destitute, desperate Domans forced out of their homes, their homeland, by the very enemy that threatened to harm them as well?
He'd wake them all up soon enough, though, and force them to see their mistakes. With his Rousers and his plan, he'd shock them awake from their ignorant stupor and bring about the vengeance he sought. The vengeance he wanted. That he... that his countrymen... that his family deserved.
He looked down at the torn halves of the ticker tape again.
"Chachanji..."
"<Go-nii...>"
~