Life carries me ever-forward, like a leaf borne upon the winds of change. I finally managed to catch up with one of the representatives of the Support Branch, in the person of one Doctor Ireth Vienneau. She broke the ice fairly neatly by scaring half the life out of me with a bit of a joke during our introduction. She asked to see my hands, taking them in her own. I thought she was doing some manner of divination to measure my aetheric energies or something equally mystical. She even seemed to go into some kind of trance – before she squealed like something called out of the void. Gods’ Grace, I don’t think I’ve ever been that terrified, standing in the middle of a prospective Free Company with the possibility of having driven one of their foremost Support members quite mad.
However, when she started laughing it was more than enough to break the ice and ease the awkward tension. All the better for me, considering she is a Wildwood from best I can tell and I’ve never had much luck with Wildwoods. Or at least – not until recently. The last few Wildwoods I’ve chanced to encounter haven’t been like the majority of their high-browed kin, looking down their long noses as if I were some insect to be crushed beneath the boot of their “civilized†natures. First Master Chevalier, now Dr. Vienneau. If this continues, I’m going to need to either pinch myself to wake up or at last relent to the hope that the world is, indeed, changing for the better. That perhaps we Duskwights might stop living in infamy for misdeeds long since past.
Either way, Dr. Vinneau’s first order of business for me was to assign me to work beneath the tutelage of Seiko Murakami so that I might learn what it is to serve the Support Branch and the Company by extension. A more pleasant companion would she have been hard-pressed to find me to learn from, but I very much have a feeling that Seiko will be no light taskmaster. Despite her apparent youth, she has the knowledge of generations of her people at her disposal, so I’ve no doubt that there is great wisdom and skill within that memory repository that will serve to challenge even the hardiest of egos, much less mine.
Beyond that, I keep thinking back to the encounter I had with the erstwhile Erimmont Chevalier just yesterday. While I know that the Twelveswood is a place of fondness for Wildwoods, he’s not exactly the kind of man I would expect to be prayerful. So encountering him at the Lifemend Stump was not exactly something I’d anticipated. It was there that he revealed full well what I was, even made it a point to tell me exactly how he knew. I’ve always known there were some who would know at first-glance, but most others can’t seem to tell one kind of Elezen from another. As I always anticipate with people once they realize what has lurked in their midst, I expected insults, threats, perhaps even an assault upon my person – it is far more common still in this day and age than people realize. Yet, none of it came.
Instead, I found an odd sort of understanding, even kinship. Master Chevalier fancies himself an outcast from his brethren due to his affinity for nature and less for the civilized world. I’m not sure he truly fathoms what it is to be a real outcast; to know that there is little in the way of solace in this world for you and your kind. To be rejected outright for the shape of your ears, for it to be assumed that you are little more than a brigand in sheep’s clothing. No, gentle and charming as he is, I doubt he truly knows the depths to which being a genuine outcast can fall. Still, it is perhaps best to let him keep his illusions if they comfort him.Â
However, when she started laughing it was more than enough to break the ice and ease the awkward tension. All the better for me, considering she is a Wildwood from best I can tell and I’ve never had much luck with Wildwoods. Or at least – not until recently. The last few Wildwoods I’ve chanced to encounter haven’t been like the majority of their high-browed kin, looking down their long noses as if I were some insect to be crushed beneath the boot of their “civilized†natures. First Master Chevalier, now Dr. Vienneau. If this continues, I’m going to need to either pinch myself to wake up or at last relent to the hope that the world is, indeed, changing for the better. That perhaps we Duskwights might stop living in infamy for misdeeds long since past.
Either way, Dr. Vinneau’s first order of business for me was to assign me to work beneath the tutelage of Seiko Murakami so that I might learn what it is to serve the Support Branch and the Company by extension. A more pleasant companion would she have been hard-pressed to find me to learn from, but I very much have a feeling that Seiko will be no light taskmaster. Despite her apparent youth, she has the knowledge of generations of her people at her disposal, so I’ve no doubt that there is great wisdom and skill within that memory repository that will serve to challenge even the hardiest of egos, much less mine.
Beyond that, I keep thinking back to the encounter I had with the erstwhile Erimmont Chevalier just yesterday. While I know that the Twelveswood is a place of fondness for Wildwoods, he’s not exactly the kind of man I would expect to be prayerful. So encountering him at the Lifemend Stump was not exactly something I’d anticipated. It was there that he revealed full well what I was, even made it a point to tell me exactly how he knew. I’ve always known there were some who would know at first-glance, but most others can’t seem to tell one kind of Elezen from another. As I always anticipate with people once they realize what has lurked in their midst, I expected insults, threats, perhaps even an assault upon my person – it is far more common still in this day and age than people realize. Yet, none of it came.
Instead, I found an odd sort of understanding, even kinship. Master Chevalier fancies himself an outcast from his brethren due to his affinity for nature and less for the civilized world. I’m not sure he truly fathoms what it is to be a real outcast; to know that there is little in the way of solace in this world for you and your kind. To be rejected outright for the shape of your ears, for it to be assumed that you are little more than a brigand in sheep’s clothing. No, gentle and charming as he is, I doubt he truly knows the depths to which being a genuine outcast can fall. Still, it is perhaps best to let him keep his illusions if they comfort him.Â
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