Chrysanthemum

The questions were all very straightforward. What did she overhear? When did Nabi leave? Skepticism and hostility met Tserende when he arrived at the stall. While it was an inconvenience that he did not appreciate, he could not bear the woman any ill will over it. He knew that she meant well, and was only concerned at the apparent strangeness of events. It took time. However, with persistence, Tserende felt he would erode some of the mistrust the woman had for him. Fortunate for both himself and Nabi, he was correct in this assumption. The information that he coaxed from the older woman did not leave him surprised. Nabi had left in a hurry to find him somewhere out in the grasslands, incapacitated and shot. Unable to move. It did not take his mind long to piece the parts together. Despite his certainty in the matter, the cold, weighty numbness which took root in the pit of his stomach was unmistakable. Worry? Or the knowledge that he had grown a bit too comfortable, and a bit too complacent. There was no immediate answer for what he could have done different to prevent it. He was certain there was something, though. He had half a mind to interrogate the one who delivered the message. After a cursory glance over the boy, he dismissed the idea. He doubted that they knew any more than he had already learned, much less the true intentions behind the arrangement. It would not have done any good. There was little time to waste anyways, and he made haste towards the sea. The journey to the Steppes was a brisk and silent one, providing adequate time for Tserende's ruminations. None of them brought him any peace of mind. If anything was definite, it was that he was without a doubt his own worst critic. He was also more than proficient at envisioning the worst when it came to things he was uncertain of. None of this eased the tightly wound knot in his stomach, or the white-knuckled grip he held the reigns of the chocobo with. The cold, bitter sting of rain pelting across his face brought him out of his ruminations. Tserende's feathered companion carried them along the river-way of the Steppes. Heavy, plodding, and with all the grace of mammoth. He had spent a fair amount of time over the years traveling, yet there was something which bothered him now. He had never spent the time to learn how to track something. The idea had never seemed as important as it did now, and he was learning very quick to regret neglecting it. He found nothing upon his initial sweep along either path he had expected them to take into the area. He found nothing on the second or third pass, either. If finding Nabi out here was to be a test of his patience, it was doing a fine job of it. Drenched, cold, and tired, he could only imagine the state she must be in by now. It was not until he traveled further up the streams that something... peculiar caught his attention. He had no doubt in his mind over the fact that he stumbled across the clue by mere chance. That fact did nothing to diminish the relief it brought though. The odd, discolored patches across the stones was quick develop into a path for him to follow. First the green coloring, and then the cigarettes which he found trickling down stream -- it may not have been much to some. The fragrant mix within the cigarettes was something he could immediately place, however. Mint mingled with the tobacco. With renewed energy and vigor, he followed the stream to the cavernous cliff-faces, searching them one by one. What he found upon entering the second cavern brought him some measure of relief. There was no blood, and Nabi appeared to all be there -- albeit a bit scrapped up and bruised, and no doubt drenched from the rain. No culprit was to be found on the scene however, nobody to blame for the cause of it all. That was something which he would have to deal with later. For now, his priorities were very simple. Get her back to her home. Once that was taken care of, he would have time to ponder over a solution for the one responsible. While he was not without his immediate impulses, he was all too aware it was something best approached with a clear mind. That was something which would come after a night or two of rest.

2 years ago... Bitter, unforgiving wind swept through the courtyard of the small estate grounds. It cut through even the heaviest of furs and jackets, sapping any semblance of warmth the bodies beneath the attire may have hoped to cherish. Winter was a harsh and perilous time of year, sparing no mercy to any foolhardy enough to travel through it. Harsh conditions tend to instill a harsher temperament in things, some people say. Tserende agreed with them, some of the dreams which plagued his sleep a stark reminder of that fact. It didn't take long for him to recognize which dream his mind had conjured for him on this particular night. He could sense it, deep in the pit of his stomach, that familiar churning and sickening queasiness. For all the life of him, Tserende would give everything to wake up. He knew well by this point he was dreaming, told himself to wake up. Yet, here he was all the same, enraptured, ensnared, a captive audience to the scene he was all too familiar with. It was nothing if not memorable, even if it were for all the wrong reasons. Tserende tried several times to rouse himself from his fitful slumber. With little success for his shoddy attempts, he resigned himself to the experience unfolding before him. He could hear shouting echoing from across the courtyard he found himself in. The noise carried easily across the stone ground, echoing off of the stone ground and ice slicked pillars. The number of voices all talking over one another made it difficult to discern any purpose to the ruckus. After a moment of careful listening however, he was able to pick one familiar sound from the rest. Constantine's voice, calm and resolute, was a stark contrast to the others. Tserende had known the older man, Constantine, ever since he was a young boy. He was, for all intents and purposes, Tserende's father even though they had no relation by blood. The man had taught him everything he knew after taking him in and providing him a place to call home. Things had become a bit precarious of late, and this was only one of the symptoms of such. The anxiety and uncertainty in the air had only become more obvious as Tserende rose to station alongside Constantine. A by-product of success. The situation seemed to be rapidly approaching its boiling point, however, which was something that Tserende had not been expecting. Despite the many times Constantine had warned and cautioned him of this exact thing happening. The resigned tone of Constantine's voice cut like a razor's edge through the still, cold air. "No. I will not." The older man's voice was firm, resolute and deep. The sound of metal hissing the confines of leather was accompanied by the sound of someone sneering. "You brought this on yourself, then. I tried to be civil and accommodating." A voice spoke in reply to Constantine. One of the guard's to the head of the estate, Tserende recognized. A sick, sinking feeling began to take root in the pit of his stomach. He ducked his head around the pillar briefly to catch a glimpse of the scene, and saw them all there. Constantine was surrounded by a semi-circle of four men, each with swords drawn and held at the ready, cornering the man in the courtyard. It was a grim, and hopeless sight. As Tserende stared at the ordeal for a moment, he managed to catch Constantine's gaze. The man gave him a pointed, knowing look, before stepping forward into the four men in front of him with a heavy swipe of the blade he kept slung over shoulder. It was time to go. Tserende let a last, lingering gaze pass over the scene before he turned to slink off, before any of them took notice of him. He wouldn't have much time to gather his belongings and slip from the grounds. The damp, wet sound of blood spattering across the cold ground follow him out as he departed. ~ 2 weeks ago... When Tserende woke with a start, he found himself coated in a light layer of sweat. A shiver passed through his body as he stirred, prompting him to raise a hand. Lifting to his neck, he found the locket kept around his neck, and curled his fingers around the dull metal. The ground was cold under foot as he swung himself from the bed to rise, though it was refreshing in an odd sense. The cool evening breeze that blew in from the open window in his room was a welcome touch, helping to ease him awake. He knew he wouldn't be seeing any more rest for the evening, despite the early hour. Fortunately, early rising was something Tserende had long since become accustomed to. The view of Kugane at this late, dark hour was a pleasant sight as well. Producing a cigarette from his bedside stand, Tserende took a spot against the window. Observing the passage of people below helped his late night ruminations. It also helped to calm his mind after those sorts of dreams. Dreams which tended to leave his thoughts stirring like a hive of hornets. At the very least, he had one thing to look forward to once the sun had finally risen over the horizon. He has promised to take Nabi out flying over the sea, to help her become more accustomed to that mode of transport. It only made sense, seeing as she was more often than not being ferried back and forth by him. Despite all the strangeness and discomfort he felt from being in a land so different from his home, her company brought him some amount of comfort. That comfort seemed to bring with it its own host of concerns, though. Such as the questions she had begun to ask. She's starting to become curious. He thought to himself. She isn't going to like what she finds, when she starts digging. The thought brought a frown to his face, lips twisting into a foul grimace. The thought of driving her away, intentionally or otherwise, was disheartening. His cigarette burned bright in the dark evening, a tiny spark of orange and red. He exhaled, sending a cloud of pale smoke from his window into the city below. I don't want to lie to her. Maybe I should, though.

I. Basic Info Primary character: Tserende Valqirelle: Traveler, recently arrived in Kugane seeking employment. He has advertised his services in various fields, from mining to private guard, and an array of other "muscle for hire" type avenues. Judging by his accent and appearance, one would easily place him as originating from somewhere far abroad -- leaving them to wonder, just what exactly is he doing all of the way over here? For a more detailed overview, feel free to visit Tserende's wiki page here! [align=center][/align] Linkshells: N/A Primary RP linkshell: None, feel free to offer suggestions! II. RP Style Amount of RP (light, medium, heavy): I'd say that I linger somewhere inbetween medium and heavy. I enjoy detailed, lengthy posts so that I can get a proper feel for what is taking place and the characters involved. While I am rather heavily involved in raiding and other PvE elements of the game, I am perfectly capable of setting aside time for story and RP as well! I prefer to handle things that are IC with continuity, and allow things to develop as naturally as possible -- I'm not a fan of retconning things or anything of the sort unless there is some dire need for it. My characters experiences are something which build up and shape him, and that is best done when everyone involved is on the same page and willing to accept the consequences of their actions. Whether good or bad. Mature themes and things of that nature are perfectly fine with me, so long as they make sense with what is taking place. Views on RP combat and injuries: Effort and fairness are key. I enjoy my combat as fluid as possible, and with realistic outcomes -- as in, injuries take time to recover from. While healing may well take the immediate risk of death from bleeding out, it is still painful and requires some time of rest and recuperation. Autohitting and other varieties of god gaming are something I don't exactly appreciate either. It takes the fun out of things, for me at least! As far as systems go, I don't mind dice rolls or simply whatever makes sense narratively. I am fine with Tserende taking injuries, though permanent things are best brought up and discussed prior to the encounter I feel. They should have narrative and reasons backing their infliction, outside of just "He gave me a dirty look at the bar." Views on IC romance: Enjoyable, provided it is allowed to develop naturally. Tserende may be a bit of a pessimist in this regard, himself, though there is always the chance of a meaningful connection arising. Views on non-romantic RP (family ties, etc): While Tserende doesn't have any direct family ties remaining, if someone else's character happens to be from Ishgard, they're perfectly welcome to discuss existing connections. I'd prefer to talk to said person a bit before they just spew characters out that suddenly know mine, of course -- and I do reserve the right to decline. That said, I do welcome the idea if someone has any thoughts. Views on lore: I enjoy the lore and world, though I'm unlikely to pay much notice to someone not adhereing 100% to it -- so long as it isn't something terribly eregious or ridiculous. So long as it is interesting and not absurdly unbalancing or otherwise immersion-breaking, I'm likely to roll with it. Views on chat functions (/say, /linkshell, etc): Say: IC, unless ((specified otherwise)) Party: IC and OOC. Typically for OOC communication, though also used for IC if the area is particularly crowded and cluttered. FC Chat: OOC. Linkshells: Either/Or. Shouts / Yells: Usually OOC, since they're most often just full of spam and nonsense anyways. Whispers: OOC, unless specified otherwise for some reason. III. Other Info Country: US Timezone:EST (though most often available after 10pm EST) Contact info: In Game (Tserende Valqirelle) or via PM here [align=center][glow=blue]~Special announcements can be found in the posts below~[/glow][/align]