It had been three days since the youth had reluctantly taken his leave of Priscilla and Marcella. He knew that they would remain safe from harm given that they were nestled snugly in a place far from prying eyes and ears...but that did not stop him worrying about them all the same. As always, however, he vowed to make the journey to their hideout once more when a few months had passed as they would be in need of fresh supplies at that point in time.
He often wondered if they would be better off hiding out in a wayward village...but neither he or they had much faith in the ability for Eorzeans to turn a blind eye to a Garlean in their midst. It would be a different matter entirely if they happened to be soldiers who had defected to Eorzea's side, of course, but Graeham himself held much contempt for those who bought their way into Eorzea's good graces through selling out Garlemald and her children.
They would be praised as heroes even as the information relayed to Eorzea's troops and 'Resistance Fighters' led to the demise of many a non-combatant and civilian. Though it was all too easy for Eorzeans to delude themselves into ignoring such inconvenient facts. It was much simpler for them to pretend as if their cause was righteous and that any innocent blood spilled was but a grim necessity in war.
Graeham inhaled and exhaled slowly in order to calm himself. He often wondered if he was being naive...foolish, even. Yet it wasn't as though he wanted to save everyone...he simply wished to save those who didn't need to perish on either side of the conflict. Soldiers fought willingly...and even those who were conscripted to fight were expected to die in battle. Yet the civilians in Doma...and the non-combatants who had been working in the Castrum's during the Eorzean Alliance's brutal assault did not deserve to endure such a grim fate.
Yet he was but one man. There was only so much that he could do and at times he wondered if the path he had chosen was the best one. Yet then he would think of Priscilla and Marcella...and how different their lives would have been had he not been there to guide them to safety.
Perhaps he thought too highly of himself? That was another question that served to haunt him. Yet he figured that his conflicting loyalties were only natural for one who had been born out of the union between an Eorzean and a Garlean. Unlike many other half-breeds, however, he was not about to lament his lot in life.Â
Self pity would accomplish nothing. He needed to bring forth change...and get results. He perked up, then, his head held high as he approached Limsa's western gate. He would linger in the city for a day or two and then return to his duties. His main goal would be to secure himself allies...though he knew he needed to be incredibly careful when voicing his views regarding the rising tension between Garlemald and Eorzea.
He did, after all, have quite the aversion to the idea of being thrown into a dank and dark cell.
He often wondered if they would be better off hiding out in a wayward village...but neither he or they had much faith in the ability for Eorzeans to turn a blind eye to a Garlean in their midst. It would be a different matter entirely if they happened to be soldiers who had defected to Eorzea's side, of course, but Graeham himself held much contempt for those who bought their way into Eorzea's good graces through selling out Garlemald and her children.
They would be praised as heroes even as the information relayed to Eorzea's troops and 'Resistance Fighters' led to the demise of many a non-combatant and civilian. Though it was all too easy for Eorzeans to delude themselves into ignoring such inconvenient facts. It was much simpler for them to pretend as if their cause was righteous and that any innocent blood spilled was but a grim necessity in war.
Graeham inhaled and exhaled slowly in order to calm himself. He often wondered if he was being naive...foolish, even. Yet it wasn't as though he wanted to save everyone...he simply wished to save those who didn't need to perish on either side of the conflict. Soldiers fought willingly...and even those who were conscripted to fight were expected to die in battle. Yet the civilians in Doma...and the non-combatants who had been working in the Castrum's during the Eorzean Alliance's brutal assault did not deserve to endure such a grim fate.
Yet he was but one man. There was only so much that he could do and at times he wondered if the path he had chosen was the best one. Yet then he would think of Priscilla and Marcella...and how different their lives would have been had he not been there to guide them to safety.
Perhaps he thought too highly of himself? That was another question that served to haunt him. Yet he figured that his conflicting loyalties were only natural for one who had been born out of the union between an Eorzean and a Garlean. Unlike many other half-breeds, however, he was not about to lament his lot in life.Â
Self pity would accomplish nothing. He needed to bring forth change...and get results. He perked up, then, his head held high as he approached Limsa's western gate. He would linger in the city for a day or two and then return to his duties. His main goal would be to secure himself allies...though he knew he needed to be incredibly careful when voicing his views regarding the rising tension between Garlemald and Eorzea.
He did, after all, have quite the aversion to the idea of being thrown into a dank and dark cell.
