Perhaps leaving him by himself was not the brightest of ideas. For a man that had killed three people with relative ease, he was not as volatile as she expected. Still, leaving him alone was a risk, but so was bringing him to the Bobbing Cork, potentially. Maybe time alone to enjoy the beauty of Fallgourd would do him some good – he had seemed rather on edge ever since they had come upon the road. So long as he did not wander far, he should be fine. This is not fanatical Ishgard, Edda reminded herself, nor home.
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Her room was on the second floor of the inn on the north side of the building, overlooking the lake and waterfall. Edda made her way up the stairs as quickly as she could. She hissed as her ankle protested its continued use and gripped the railing tightly. Rather than let it go, it would be better to take care of it now. Limping the rest of the way, she continued to her room and sat down on the bed to remove her boots. Her ankle was red and swollen with pain. Edda frowned at it in disapproval. It was not a serious injury, only irritated, but for such a minor sprain to be so painful was an annoyance, if not embarrassing.
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The woman put a hand to her ankle and furrowed her brow in concentration. It was a trial, to do it in this way. Healing from within still felt more natural to her, but there was insistence from many in Gridania that she cease to – for reasons she both understood, and did not. Edda closed her eyes and concentrated. Do it right. A cool sensation spread throughout her ankle, the pain dulling and melting away. Huffing a sigh, she leaned back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling as the spell took effect. That she should be crippled in this manner was disgraceful.
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Once the pain had resided and the swelling had gone down, Edda stood and began to undress. A warm bath usually awaited her when she returned from her walks, but there was no time for such luxury now. Her skin felt thick, covered in grime and sweat. A change of clothes would be little help, and so she imagined the long bath that lay in her future and began to change. She dressed for the cold – an intricate white coat and hood lined with fur, warm tights and long boots made for the snow. The woman looked about the room in thought. She did not have many belongings here, only those sent from home by retainers, and other miscellaneous items she had purchased while in Gridania.
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Edda knelt in front of a large trunk that sat at the end of the bed, and began to dig through it. Most of the items within she had never used, and began to pull out what seemed useful. A small, but heavy tent with a bed roll and blankets. An empty leather wineskin and a pouch of dried meats that had been pushed on her by a merchant in the city. Edda frowned at a rolled up map of the Black Shroud and Coerthas regions, out of date for six cycles now. Closing the trunk, she bustled about the room for a variety of other objects. Warming potions, a rain cloak and a paltry sum of gil.
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She had learn how to pack efficiently at a young age, and the woman managed to fit most of her items in a large knapsack that appeared as if it had never once been outside. Satisfied with her selection, Edda began to lug her equipment out of her room and back down the stairs. The Xaela could be seen at the plaza as she left the inn, and she sighed in relief. He had not wandered far at all.
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“Any trouble?†Edda asked as she approached, now without a noticeable limp. She scanned the area to find nothing out of the ordinary. It was an eerily quiet day in Fallgourd, but no less peaceful for it. The woman began loading her tent and bag onto her chocobo’s saddle with machine-like practice as she gazed at the man. He seemed quite curious and engaged with the aetheryte. Was this his first time seeing one? It was a bizarre thought to Edda, but one that made her smile in amusement as she tightened the straps on the saddle.
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“Are you alright?†She did not wait for an answer and instead rephrased the question, still smiling.
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Her room was on the second floor of the inn on the north side of the building, overlooking the lake and waterfall. Edda made her way up the stairs as quickly as she could. She hissed as her ankle protested its continued use and gripped the railing tightly. Rather than let it go, it would be better to take care of it now. Limping the rest of the way, she continued to her room and sat down on the bed to remove her boots. Her ankle was red and swollen with pain. Edda frowned at it in disapproval. It was not a serious injury, only irritated, but for such a minor sprain to be so painful was an annoyance, if not embarrassing.
Â
The woman put a hand to her ankle and furrowed her brow in concentration. It was a trial, to do it in this way. Healing from within still felt more natural to her, but there was insistence from many in Gridania that she cease to – for reasons she both understood, and did not. Edda closed her eyes and concentrated. Do it right. A cool sensation spread throughout her ankle, the pain dulling and melting away. Huffing a sigh, she leaned back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling as the spell took effect. That she should be crippled in this manner was disgraceful.
Â
Once the pain had resided and the swelling had gone down, Edda stood and began to undress. A warm bath usually awaited her when she returned from her walks, but there was no time for such luxury now. Her skin felt thick, covered in grime and sweat. A change of clothes would be little help, and so she imagined the long bath that lay in her future and began to change. She dressed for the cold – an intricate white coat and hood lined with fur, warm tights and long boots made for the snow. The woman looked about the room in thought. She did not have many belongings here, only those sent from home by retainers, and other miscellaneous items she had purchased while in Gridania.
Â
Edda knelt in front of a large trunk that sat at the end of the bed, and began to dig through it. Most of the items within she had never used, and began to pull out what seemed useful. A small, but heavy tent with a bed roll and blankets. An empty leather wineskin and a pouch of dried meats that had been pushed on her by a merchant in the city. Edda frowned at a rolled up map of the Black Shroud and Coerthas regions, out of date for six cycles now. Closing the trunk, she bustled about the room for a variety of other objects. Warming potions, a rain cloak and a paltry sum of gil.
Â
She had learn how to pack efficiently at a young age, and the woman managed to fit most of her items in a large knapsack that appeared as if it had never once been outside. Satisfied with her selection, Edda began to lug her equipment out of her room and back down the stairs. The Xaela could be seen at the plaza as she left the inn, and she sighed in relief. He had not wandered far at all.
Â
“Any trouble?†Edda asked as she approached, now without a noticeable limp. She scanned the area to find nothing out of the ordinary. It was an eerily quiet day in Fallgourd, but no less peaceful for it. The woman began loading her tent and bag onto her chocobo’s saddle with machine-like practice as she gazed at the man. He seemed quite curious and engaged with the aetheryte. Was this his first time seeing one? It was a bizarre thought to Edda, but one that made her smile in amusement as she tightened the straps on the saddle.
Â
“Are you alright?†She did not wait for an answer and instead rephrased the question, still smiling.
