Spoiler
Cold spring gives way to colder summer.
The seasons having lost their way.
‘Twas not that sun chose to slumber,
But that the frost preferred to stay.

Whatever spell was cast upon it,
On that remembered fateful day,
Could not be fled, except by permit,
Sooner some escape, than to obey.
To find the world, than to submit.

I once was one that longed to see
To hear, to feel, to learn, and know,
What it meant to be a woman free.
To leave it all behind, and let it go.

Now I know, the taste and feel of sun.
Beach-hot white sand beneath my feet,
In salt-sweet air, and carefree fun,
And endless smiles for all I meet.

But I cannot forget, or cease to care,
From where I came, and who I am.
Embittered cold, that all must bear,
From where I came, and who I am.
The howling gale, hope, despair.

Where cold-capped snow peaks linger still,
Where frost strong-clings to all it sees.
Where hearth and home bring warm goodwill,
Where love exists beneath the freeze.

SpoilerIceborn goddess, for our own heart's solace,
Renew today this sacred trust that binds
Our towers gleaming, your image flawless.
So they together ever will entwine.
We knoweth thee, beneath our frigid plea;
That you alone command hard frostbit cold
And harken not to warm our land with glee,
But narrow lucent eyes on us to scold.
For what is fear of bidden ice-cold rime
Compared with perils of dragon fire.
Learn thee to face the harshest cold, sublime.
Lest fail yourself the test of time, and tire.
But... as she cloaks our land with bulwark cold,
Does she our hearts' goodwill and warmth withhold?

Spoiler
Black sand stands watch, bitter sun
Days hard toil, spirit spent, wages won
Beneath tall spires, that toward the sky stretch on,
Wondering from day-to-day when it will be done,
And who, when it comes, will have won
And what it is, they shall acquire.

Those who cannot shun hard sand blown,
Know what those above have never known,
Where hot air boils, and bakes the bone,
Spirits worn to pound the sand and stone
Yet still are told they must atone,
and stubbornly refuse to tire.

While those in towers watch with scorn,
Upon those lesser, to toil born,
Whose clothes, tools, and hands hard-worn,
Have little, gilded, or untorn,
And know not what it truly means to adorn,
The polished pleasantry of the buyer.

Upon hard dust, where pity breaks,
All are owned or bought by he who takes,
And uses them for all good things he makes,
Reminding each again of the stakes,
The threat that awaits when he awakes,
Should the master, in his whim desire.

Hope, and eyes raised to aspire still,
When rain comes to bring its thirsty-thrill,
Letting all below, devour and drink their fill,
While, showing masters beyond the till,
Who know the truth, and all they will,
Give faith to eyes, and inspire.

The sight of rain that cannot recognize
That doesn't know or seem to realize
That it should know who to penalize,
and who its supposed to demonize,
But instead, seems to emphasize
That none should be the drier.

Spoiler
In those, long past, distant days of yore.
When we learned , our songs of love, and lore
Of Misty wood, and ancient timber,
Of mighty boughs, untouched by cinder.
Where heroes, beyond our ken,  once stood,
Within that dark, that black, that Mirk-wood.

SpoilerWhen each day's new sun grows briefer and wan
The bleak evening moon, will glimmer with snow
And Crystal-like frost will shimmer with dawn
And hoarfrost will end the bright autumn show
And all will soon know, that winter is here.
And all will soon know, that winter is here.

When snow's first fall meets dim evening moonlight
Its falling, its falling, its silent, and still
And glimmers and shimmers to greatest delight
A falling, soft blanket that covers the hill.
We feel the great joy, that winter is here.
We feel the great joy, that winter is here.

Let us be ready, for bare winter freeze
Each stocked and prepared, each stocked and made ready.
An end to all playful diversion and ease.
The season is hardship, fearsome and heady.
For now we all know, that winter is here.
For now we all know, that winter is here.

'Round warm fire sitting, we come and we gather.
To share our good will, and wait for the cease,
Of this cold winter season, would that we rather,
Remember for calm - and remember for peace.
We are together, and winter is here.
We are together, and winter is here.

In its own way, it makes things more clear.
It shows us our love, and what is so dear.
There is no reason for panic nor reason for fear:
It is only the passing, the passing of time
That one true condition, of all that has been:
The dawn is the darkest, at the start of each year,
It still holds such promise, and reason for cheer.
So let us be still, the first snowfall is here.
So let us be still, the first snowfall is here.

SpoilerI will never forget, that shuffle of feet
Those two yellow eyes - that peered in the dark
Just gazing, and gazing, with the aid of his light
Through that long and dark tunnel - to his greatest delight!

[Chorus]
With those cute little hands -
And those cute little eyes -
Those cute little boots!
And that cute little knife!

Dark though it was, I know that he smiled
And gave me that look, that longed for my touch.
How he followed, and followed, no break in his stride.
Through that long and dark tunnel - he chased his new bride.

[Chorus]

I knew it right then! A love like no other
For that little green man, who never gives up!
Just chasing, and chasing, the one he holds dear,
Through that long and dark tunnel - with feelings sincere.

[Chorus]

Some girls want their jewels, and some want their gold.
I'll pass on it all!  I know what I like:
My little green man, with his little green face.
You know what they say: The fun's in the chase!

[Chorus]

Spoiler
O, dear little bird!  Sit and sing now for me?
Tell me what it is like? What it is you have seen?
Just how high can you fly? Just how far can you see?
Of where you have come? And what lies between.
Of fresh breaking Spring, the fall of warm rain,
Of lifting grey fog stirred over the dale,
Of rising sun's light 'cross broad open plain,
Of winter thaw's sound in deep river vale.
Of oceans wide calm and rivers loud roar,
Of frost's nipping cold, which drove your long flight
From where you were born, learned to sing, and to soar.
Now homeward you're bound, after winter's long night
And here just to stay, to rest tired wing.
So lucky we are, to hear the bird sing.

Spoiler
Wind roars while cables snap and sing,
Doused in the dank of chop sea spray.
The few who dare, to battens cling,
Gritting into wind; too proud to pray.

These were the first to ply the sea,
Charting their way they searched, and strayed
Wild as the surf: damned, rough, and free.
They risked it all, to raid or trade.

More would follow, in their wake.
Then softening ways, and routes begin,
The waves were claimed for living's sake,
Organized, to be but merchantmen.

So the wild, raging, waters tamed
Leave men behind, unsure of what to make,
Without their place or name, now shamed,
By this strange new world, in which they wake.

The rules of conduct now are named,
All brought tight, strict and uniform.
What once was theirs, cannot be claimed,
The calm has settled violent storm.

And now, in anger, rage, and grief
They look to search and find once more,
For shred of peace, and sweet relief,
For what was theirs in youth or yore.

Spoiler
Where prow through wave breaks,
Beneath salt spray scour,
When stout hull rattles and shakes,
There you'll find the hero of the hour

Spoiler
((I am writing to help flesh out Aya's character a little more fully.  I welcome anyone RPing with her at the Ul'dahn market or anywhere else she may wander!))
 
The small room, snuggled away on the North side of the Quick Sand where Momodi preferred to place her less desirable customers, sweltered in the burning mid-morning sun. Sweat-drenched, Aya dropped into the formalized pose upon her mat, feeling the stretch burning down the back of her leg. The sun glared down upon her with an intensity, that she thought bordered upon hatred.
 
The long runs in the cool shade of the Black Shroud seemed such a distant memory, a dream that had flitted away in the blink of an eye.  She swallowed consciously, feeling the dryness in her throat as she pressed into the stretch, holding it long, working the tension from her body.   
 
How she missed the Hungry Wolf training regimen: hard though it had pressed her, she now felt tortured by the cramped confines of her present circumstances.  Ul’dah offered little escape, only the desert that loomed so threateningly outside the walls: whipping sand, scorching winds, and barren landscapes.  With one arm supporting her upper body, she lifted her other arm,extending it into the air as she rolled her body to the side. 
 
The cramped spaces, and confinement within the walled city, reminded her so much of Ishgard.  It seemed only natural for her to return to the same routines that she had found successful there; after all, she was no longer preparing for a life of combat, was she?  She pulled her body into a sitting position,legs crossed, and hands resting upon her knees. She breathed consciously, drawing each breath slowly, with measured precision.
 
The routine was meant to calm the mind, and lift the emotions.  Yet, her thoughts, and apprehension, continued to wander without control.  She was rarely reflective, but it seemed hard to avoid when her past had so suddenly caught up with her: why would any Ishgardian care about her?  Certainly any affiliated with the Houses would have found her absence in the city an improvement.  “But Osric had been so concerned…” she thought as a lump firmed in her throat, no amount of controlled breathing able to slow the increasing pace of her heart.
 
She had tried to leave it all behind.  But were things really any better now?  She opened her eyes and looked toward the drawn window shades, feeling the blaze of the sun cutting through them with a merciless persistence.  She had once been a dancer, perhaps even something of a starlet – then a runaway, a barmaid, a mercenary, and a barmaid once more.  How far had she really come?  What had freedom brought her?






























She opened her eyes once more, resolved toward nothing but to carry on accepting the risks of life. At least she was away from there, at least she had a roof over her head, at least she had something of a home, and gazing toward the pouch of her hard won earnings, at least she had her gil, and the vaguest hint of hope for a more comfortable, and perhaps even luxurious, life.
 
She rose to her feet to wash, and dress for the day.  Pulling on a long cloak, she drew the hood over her head, leaving long blonde locks curling down the front of her shoulders.  It was time to visit the market to purchase some choice produce for Momodi, and she wanted to be a little more difficult to recognize.  Snatching a handful of gil she smiled to herself, “And maybe a little something nice for me…”  She thought for a moment of the kind patrons of the Quick Sand, and the tips they left, and then of the jewelry, shoes, and perfume she would buy—if not today, then someday.