Thread Closed
Simple Plotting
Aya stood on the balcony overlooking the lantern-lit quay below. The longshoremen went about their business around the clock. If a ship needed loading, or unloading, it wouldn't wait for a better time.
This was C'kayah's apartment. Standing empty and idle, it served as an easy and comfortable perch for her forays into the life of Limsa Lominsa: the city of white stone. There was an irony in this that only C'kayah and Osric would fully appreciate.
Between her teeth she clenched a long, slender pipe stem, stained with lipstick marks. Feminine fingers grasped the bowl, smoldering and fragrant, well away from her face.  She hadn't slept. The bag of finest pipe tobacco had been nearly emptied by the night of contemplation. A wispy string of gray-smoke rose lazily toward the heavens in the calm morning air, catching the first ray of rising sun.
It was only the most strenuous moments that brought forth the vice, but none could deny that this evening had struck just such a desperate chord.Â
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one...?"
Osric was in jail. Brash. Foolish. What had he been thinking?
She turned the basics over in her mind once more:
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one..." she wondered aloud in her light voice, the tone of rich Ishgardian accent playing upon every soft, sighing note.
If such a man were to make a grandiose appearance, it could complicate matters for the Admiralty who thought they had the elusive fellow in their cells...
But what of Morris. She sighed. The fate of Morris had not meant much to her - but it clearly meant something more to Osric and their collective friends. Perhaps, she wondered, Limsa Lominsa could not withstand the Garlean incursion if it began by extinguishing those who took first blood on their behalf. But that was all too romantic a notion - still, when they cared, she could not help but care as well.
The mob was angry--furious. She knew such energy was not, quite, directionless, but that it could be channeled more easily than it could be diffused. It was not inconceivable that anger toward the mutineer could be redirected into anger at the Admiralty. An Admiralty that pulled the wool over the eyes of the people of Limsa Lominsa. That obscured the Garlean threat, in a poorly-conceived bid to maintain order in the city. An admiralty that played loyal Officers as pawns, and loyal citizens as dupes to be fooled. It had the added benefit of being true - Haelstyrmm having readily confirmed it during the proceedings.
She shifted the pipe, nearly chewing on the mouthpiece as the familiar taste hung upon her lips.
What Morris could use--what this city could use, is a demagogue.Â
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one...?"
Aya stood on the balcony overlooking the lantern-lit quay below. The longshoremen went about their business around the clock. If a ship needed loading, or unloading, it wouldn't wait for a better time.
This was C'kayah's apartment. Standing empty and idle, it served as an easy and comfortable perch for her forays into the life of Limsa Lominsa: the city of white stone. There was an irony in this that only C'kayah and Osric would fully appreciate.
Between her teeth she clenched a long, slender pipe stem, stained with lipstick marks. Feminine fingers grasped the bowl, smoldering and fragrant, well away from her face.  She hadn't slept. The bag of finest pipe tobacco had been nearly emptied by the night of contemplation. A wispy string of gray-smoke rose lazily toward the heavens in the calm morning air, catching the first ray of rising sun.
It was only the most strenuous moments that brought forth the vice, but none could deny that this evening had struck just such a desperate chord.Â
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one...?"
Osric was in jail. Brash. Foolish. What had he been thinking?
She turned the basics over in her mind once more:
- Morris, accused mutineer. Had acted to resist the Garlean threat.
- Osric Melkire, a.k.a. Dirk Problemsolver, publicly defended him and is now paying the price.
- Both, arrested, standing trial: punishment to be hanged until dead.
- The city quaked, divided on the matter of Morris. Half wished him dead, the other were not so sure.
- Elements of the 8th and 9th Squadrons were already preparing for a joint strike against the island, center of the Garlean foray and its pirate allies.
- The Admiralty was unconcerned with justice, or innocence. Only the well-being of the Maelstrom, and Limsa Lominsa would weigh upon their hearts. The members would act in accordance with their duty toward their charge: no different than if it were a ship, or a fleet.
- But the Captains are prideful men and women. Nothing could sting them more than the threat of humiliation. One weakness. One crack into which a lever-arm could be thrust with enough precision.
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one..." she wondered aloud in her light voice, the tone of rich Ishgardian accent playing upon every soft, sighing note.
If such a man were to make a grandiose appearance, it could complicate matters for the Admiralty who thought they had the elusive fellow in their cells...
But what of Morris. She sighed. The fate of Morris had not meant much to her - but it clearly meant something more to Osric and their collective friends. Perhaps, she wondered, Limsa Lominsa could not withstand the Garlean incursion if it began by extinguishing those who took first blood on their behalf. But that was all too romantic a notion - still, when they cared, she could not help but care as well.
The mob was angry--furious. She knew such energy was not, quite, directionless, but that it could be channeled more easily than it could be diffused. It was not inconceivable that anger toward the mutineer could be redirected into anger at the Admiralty. An Admiralty that pulled the wool over the eyes of the people of Limsa Lominsa. That obscured the Garlean threat, in a poorly-conceived bid to maintain order in the city. An admiralty that played loyal Officers as pawns, and loyal citizens as dupes to be fooled. It had the added benefit of being true - Haelstyrmm having readily confirmed it during the proceedings.
She shifted the pipe, nearly chewing on the mouthpiece as the familiar taste hung upon her lips.
What Morris could use--what this city could use, is a demagogue.Â
"Where is a Dirk Problemsolver when you really need one...?"
![[Image: 21282370099_a814a08664_o.png]](https://farm1.staticflickr.com/590/21282370099_a814a08664_o.png)