Kokojo scowled incessantly, bouncing this way and that as they made their way towards 'Ishgard.' The false bottom above her kept threatening to flap open and pour food and water rations down into the already-cramped confines of the traveling pack. With each step the knight took, the pack shook, making matters that much worse.
She sat as best she could: legs tucked in, her body curled as best as she could manage into a ball. Her sword was held against her chest, one hand on the sheath and the other on the pommel when she could spare it; her shield was strapped across her back.
"You know... you're quite damn heavy."
She jabbed back at him with one elbow as they came to a stop. Could he feel that through the leather? She hoped he could feel that through the leather. Ass. Most of the weight came from her armor; she'd chosen to climb into this infernal contraption while in full iron. If anything, he should be thanking her and her heritage for keeping his load light. Now, a Roegadyn... ha!
"I... didn't think Lalafells were this heavy... but between you and I..."
She perked her ears up hard against her celata as they started moving again. That wistful tone in his voice....
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"... I never liked the Brass Blades but you Immortal Flames though... you'll do."
Her expression softened, and she dropped her gaze to the falchion she carried. She hadn't been born to this life, hadn't expected it, hadn't served as long as many of her peers had, her fellow corporals. That fateful family expedition to the Sagolii... the escape that had been Nymeia's grace... the refuge that had been Gridania... the circumstances that had brought her home, at last, to Ul'Dah, in time for her to devote herself to....
Under her breath, Kokojo muttered, "that's because the people suffer before the Blades... the Flames, though... the Flames are meant to suffer for the people."
Would he hear her? Could he? Likely not... but that didn't matter. It was something she felt had to be spoken aloud, be there ears to listen or no. It was something she chose to remind herself of, sun past and sun arising. What she had volunteered for, what she had chosen... and why....
"Look at the bright side, at least you don't get to walk nor feel the bite of the wind. Even if you walked, I think you'll just sink into the snow."
Her contemplative frown - when had she started frowning? - fell away as the slightest of smiles dawned on her face. She chuckled along as his booming voice broke into laughter.Â
The storm must have broken, as the traveling pack jostled less and less as they went on, as the knight paused less and less, as the harsh whine of the frigid wind died down to mere whispers... then, at last...
They arrived at the 'Gates of Judgement.'
She sat as best she could: legs tucked in, her body curled as best as she could manage into a ball. Her sword was held against her chest, one hand on the sheath and the other on the pommel when she could spare it; her shield was strapped across her back.
"You know... you're quite damn heavy."
She jabbed back at him with one elbow as they came to a stop. Could he feel that through the leather? She hoped he could feel that through the leather. Ass. Most of the weight came from her armor; she'd chosen to climb into this infernal contraption while in full iron. If anything, he should be thanking her and her heritage for keeping his load light. Now, a Roegadyn... ha!
"I... didn't think Lalafells were this heavy... but between you and I..."
She perked her ears up hard against her celata as they started moving again. That wistful tone in his voice....
Â
"... I never liked the Brass Blades but you Immortal Flames though... you'll do."
Her expression softened, and she dropped her gaze to the falchion she carried. She hadn't been born to this life, hadn't expected it, hadn't served as long as many of her peers had, her fellow corporals. That fateful family expedition to the Sagolii... the escape that had been Nymeia's grace... the refuge that had been Gridania... the circumstances that had brought her home, at last, to Ul'Dah, in time for her to devote herself to....
Under her breath, Kokojo muttered, "that's because the people suffer before the Blades... the Flames, though... the Flames are meant to suffer for the people."
Would he hear her? Could he? Likely not... but that didn't matter. It was something she felt had to be spoken aloud, be there ears to listen or no. It was something she chose to remind herself of, sun past and sun arising. What she had volunteered for, what she had chosen... and why....
"Look at the bright side, at least you don't get to walk nor feel the bite of the wind. Even if you walked, I think you'll just sink into the snow."
Her contemplative frown - when had she started frowning? - fell away as the slightest of smiles dawned on her face. She chuckled along as his booming voice broke into laughter.Â
The storm must have broken, as the traveling pack jostled less and less as they went on, as the knight paused less and less, as the harsh whine of the frigid wind died down to mere whispers... then, at last...
They arrived at the 'Gates of Judgement.'
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
