Limsa Lominsa's skyline always offered the best views in the city. It also offered the best winds. Drenched in sweat and panting with exertion, those winds were exactly what Zhi was looking for as she rested on a rooftop under Menphina's delicious light. No pursuit in sight and the freedom to wander wherever she wanted under the cover of night: she was pleased. The darkness was where she thrived. Always.
The strange deal she'd worked out with the miqo'te next to her had turned into something personal for her. It was a chance to pit herself against someone who was, as some might reckon, better than her. It was a chance to prove herself. So it was with some mix of jealousy, anger and admiration that she dealt with him, that she doled out pieces of information as slowly as she could. Take as much as she could and give as little as she could: that was how she operated. That was how everyone operated, long as they weren't lackwits.
She'd explained her job with Lalataru to him, how she'd been hired to steal some book, how it required her to play the role of an innocent little thief named Joz, how she was verging on sure that her employer, Galleon, intended to kill her once she was done. She used the telling of the job to teach him more about the role arcanists played in the city's legal system, about how their guild doubled as Mealvaan's Gate. But of course, with her, there was another reason to bring it up.
"I need ye t'hit me," she told him. She wasn't looking at him, she was admiring the way the moon's light bled over the water below. "I need ye t'make it look like I got roughed."
The strange deal she'd worked out with the miqo'te next to her had turned into something personal for her. It was a chance to pit herself against someone who was, as some might reckon, better than her. It was a chance to prove herself. So it was with some mix of jealousy, anger and admiration that she dealt with him, that she doled out pieces of information as slowly as she could. Take as much as she could and give as little as she could: that was how she operated. That was how everyone operated, long as they weren't lackwits.
She'd explained her job with Lalataru to him, how she'd been hired to steal some book, how it required her to play the role of an innocent little thief named Joz, how she was verging on sure that her employer, Galleon, intended to kill her once she was done. She used the telling of the job to teach him more about the role arcanists played in the city's legal system, about how their guild doubled as Mealvaan's Gate. But of course, with her, there was another reason to bring it up.
"I need ye t'hit me," she told him. She wasn't looking at him, she was admiring the way the moon's light bled over the water below. "I need ye t'make it look like I got roughed."
