Roen

Yessss! I got my hands on the dubious goods! :bouncy:

Roen could feel the searing heat from the stream of fire that shot past her shoulder. She veered sharply left just in time after catching a glimpse of the wyvern's neck rearing back, and that was all that had saved her from burning. She swore to herself. I need to find cover. Goldwind was in full gallop, spurred onward after Khadai’s warning. Roen could not possibly keep her eyes on her airborne pursuer while her mount was in full sprint. And the wyvern's speed and flight gave it much greater tactical advantage. And sooner rather than later. Water splashed wildly as her chocobo raced over the shallow stream, Goldwind’s talons kicking up moist dirt on the bank as she turned him abruptly to race northward. Roen caught the wyvern’s shadow upon the ground pass over her head and the paladin looked up to follow the wyvern’s course as it circled back around in the sky. She knew did not have much time to reach her goal, and her gaze shot ahead upstream. The stone bridge crossing the stream came into view, just south to the last ruin they had passed on the road. The smaller wyvern let out a sharp screech that rang through the forelands, and though not accompanied by any audible Dravanian words this time, Roen recognized the intent of the cry well enough. What made her breath catch was the sound's frighteningly fast approach. She allowed herself only a split instant to glimpse behind her shoulder, and the creature had spread its wings to slow its dive, readying to rear its head. It would only be seconds before another gout of flame came pouring down. Roen flattened herself upon the bird’s back and pulled the reigns lower upon her mount’s neck. As both rider and bird dashed under the stone bridge, she felt another wave of heat behind her, fire bathing the blocks of stone. With a hard yank of the reign, Goldwind dug its powerful talons into the ground, skidding to a half spinning stop under the bridge with a wild spray of water. The paladin leaped off the saddle, her armored boots plunging through the shallow stream as she brought up her shield and sword. With narrowed eyes she called upon the aether, a swirl of stone weaving around her limbs, then body, and fading from view once it had encased her in its invisible protection. The paladin brought her shield in front of her, her other hand testing the grip of her sword. She scanned the ground for a moving shadow of the dragonkin. Goldwind clawed nervously at his watery footing, black eyes wide as he too glanced back and forth. Another angry screech echoed from above, before Roen spotted the beast's reflection upon on the water. The wyvern had been clever to hide its shadow, but she saw its distorted image along the stream as it flapped its large wings hovering in the air. Then a bright glare obliterated the reflection as she felt another blast of heat hit the stones above. But the slabs were too thick. The paladin knew the creature could not get to them from above. The wyvern landed twenty yalms away from the bridge upon the running stream with an angry splash, its sinewy neck slithering low to get a better view of its prey. When the paladin and the dragonkin met each other’s gaze, Roen banged the front of her shield with the pommel of her sword, issuing a wordless challenge. The dragonkin answered with a toothy expression, its sharp fangs almost glistening with the reflection from the water. When it reared its neck, the paladin clucked her tongue, sending Goldwind retreating to the other side of the bridge. She ducked behind her raised shield, just as another wave of fire washed over her. Her shield and armor hissed in protest to the heat, but her stoneskin spell held fast. When she peered over her shield again, the wyvern let out another enraged shriek; its fangs were bared as it opened its maw wide, infuriated with the paladin’s ability to evade certain death thus far. It stalked forward, claws and wings punching the stream and spouting water with each step. The wyvern's lust for blood stood clear in its yellow eyes. Roen was not sure how much longer her stoneskin would hold under the constant onslaught of conflagration, and she was certain that was what the wyvern was betting on as well. The paladin was not intent to wait and find out. As the wyvern ducked its head under the arch of the bridge, Roen let out a loud whistle. She could hear the thumping of chocobo feet darting over the bridge overhead, and the wyvern whirled its head around as the noise did not escape its notice either. But the dragonkin had already approached too close to the bridge, and could not spin about immediately. Roen spotted the flash of deep yellow feathers as Goldwind came to land on the wyvern’s flank. When her mount delivered a somersault kick to the dragonkin’s wing, there was a resounding crack and it let out a painful cry. Now. Roen spun her sword once in her grip, sparks of aether crackling down the blade’s length. She charged.

“Ishgard keeps most of its forces close to the city for defense,” Roen murmured as she glanced behind them for the third time, still finding no pursuers. Only then did she allowed herself a long exhale of relief, finally settling in her saddle. She could feel the lightness in Goldwind’s steps, her bird energized and happy from the unplanned morning run, oblivious to their plight. As she took a deep breath in the cool morning air, she squinted up at the shafts of sunlight spearing through the canopy of leaves above. The trees rustled quietly with the northern wind, and an occasional herd of white clouds drifting across the sky afforded them passing shade. Even though it had been a familiar sight all her life, a wave of nostalgia in seeing that expanse of azure brushed her heart. More than a year had been spent in snow and ice, and Roen had grown used to the somber hues of grey. The recent suns spent in Costa Del Sol felt almost like a dream, and now riding through the forestlands of Dravania, every green patch of grass was a pleasant reminder that the rest of Eorzea was just as she had left it--vibrant and flourishing. Their sprint through the stream was exhilarating, and if it had not been for the possibility that they were in fleeing from soldiers, she would have considered indulging a bit longer near the fresh running water. It had been years since she had reveled in such an exercise. She could tell Goldwind was yearning for more. “Perhaps the knights were on a particular hunt,” Roen wondered aloud, as if to refocus her thoughts back to the subject at hand. For the year that she had been serving Knight Captain Tournes, her squadron was never ordered to venture too far from Coerthas. Tailfeather was as far as she had ever traveled, and that was a rare visit, to assist merchants traveling to and from the outpost. She had never recalled as many as thirty soldiers being commissioned to anywhere in Dravania. But having participated in the dragon hunt near the Convictory along side Ser Vaillancourt, she now had a better understanding of the numbers deployed for such a task, and how they tracked such creatures. The war party that Khadai had described fit such a group. Was there a new campaign to expand further into Dravania? Had the political canvas changed so much in Ishgard that they were willing to extend their resources and defenses this far? Roen shook her head, chasing away the questions like annoying gnats. None of it mattered, as she was no longer serving under an Ishgardian knight. She had not heard from Idristan Tournes since her dismissal from his company, but after having spent much of her time in Coerthas serving under his strict but fair command, she could not help but wonder as to his welfare. But traveling further into the reaches of the Dravanian forelands, she doubted that she would be able to gain any news here. But she also had thought that encountering Ishgardian forces would be a rare occurrence, but now she was starting to harbor some doubts after Tailfeather. Thought to purpose. We are traveling deeper into the land where dragons rule, the paladin reminded herself grimly. Even if they did not encounter any more Ishgardian knights, she doubted that this land would ever truly be free of the reverberations of the Thousand Year War. To even hope for such things would be folly. “What do you know of this Anyx Trine?” Roen called out as she nudged Goldwind to hasten its stride to trot alongside the taller destrier. She gave Khadai a curious glance. “And how do you know that is where we should be heading?”

Sleeping in a stable was not a comfortable thing. The ground was too firm, and the hay, despite the fact that she had put a generous layer of it below her bedroll, lacked the comforts of a bed. Had she grown so accustomed to the luxury of furnishings? Roen wrestled with that thought as she shifted every now and then during the night, trying to quell her pride that if Khadai can sleep under these conditions--sitting up no less--she should be able to get some semblance of rest as well. She would fall asleep, then waken a few bells later, only to try and drift back to sleep again. So it felt like she had finally found a perfect soft spot to doze when a violent shake of her shoulder woke her. “We must leave,” a deep voice rumbled through her consciousness. It was not only those words, but the quiet urgency in Khadai’s voice that made Roen bolt up straight in her bedroll. Her hand was already reaching for her sheathed sword lying nearby, although it was mostly out of habit rather than the Au Ra’s tone. She took a moment to blink away the haziness of slumber from her eyes, but it did not take her long to note the stable doors were still closed and none had entered their particular stall. Khadai had already moved from her side, attending to his destrier. He said nothing more, but the distant sounds of shouting began to filter through the walls of the stables. There was activity beyond, and it had alarmed him. Roen began to equip herself without another word, even as she glanced up to the morning light that was peeking through the windows.Getting back into her armor with haste was something she could do half awake; such was the life of a mercenary soldier expecting attacks in the middle of the night. She could discern from the lighting that it was still early morning, so she doubted that the commotion was that of a typical hustle of hunters getting started for the sun. There were no telltale sounds of battle either. So even as she continued to fasten her gauntlets onto her hand, she glanced at Khadai’s back as he saddled his chocobo. He had a headstart on her in being ready for whatever was walking through those doors, he was already fully armored and saddling his mount. She clucked her tongue to alert her own bird. Goldwind shuffled his feathers; the noise had alway awoken him, but his eyes blinked wide and his head lifted and swiveled side to side at her call. Roughly sliding her sword to into her belt, Roen hurried to her chocobo’s side, yanking the saddle onto his back. Goldwind only bristled slightly at the hasty movements, but a nervous trill that rose from the chocobo mirrored her apprehension. The paladin squinted as she tried to get a glimpse in between the shuttered windows to see what was going on outside, but she could only vaguely make out moving figures. She tilted her head back to direct her words at the Au Ra on the other side of the stall even while she continued to prepare for a swift departure. “So what are we dealing with?”

I am so sorry to hear this. The times I got to RP with Denn, he was always so enthusiastic and fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of exciting player. So full of life and so passionate. My prayers go out to his family and loved ones.

It was as if the clouds were waiting with bated breath for the sun to make its exit. As soon as the last vestige of the warm orange glow sank into the depths of the ocean, the lanky palm trees began to bend to the increasing strength of the winds, its leaves rustling loudly in protest. The darkness came quickly, and rain followed soon after. Khadai went to attend to the fish that were affixed to the rack, just before the storm began in earnest. The rest of the group had left before nightfall, but Roen remained seated by the fire that still flickered, sheltered from the weather by the trees and the crag that arched above. "Figure's such a lovely place would get marred by horrendous weather." Roen recognized Gharen’s voice without turning. She had heard his approach, limping gait shuffling over sand along with the light tapping of a cane that searched for solid footing. “No place is safe from the storm, I have learned.” She regarded him briefly. “You should sit.” "Mayhaps, but tis jus' wind an' rain." He shrugged, but acquieced none the less, lowering himself slowly to the ground with some difficulty. "Miss Jakkya suggested we be locked in a room. I'm inclined te agree." Roen snorted softly. "Kiht can be impatient at times. I think a part of her fears that I will disappear again." "Ye cannae have disappeared fer too terribly long, ye helped them find me,” Gharen reflected quietly. Goosebumps rose along her arms and it was not from the cold. Roen stared straight ahead into the darkness and said nothing as the howling winds suddenly filled the silence between them. "Has no memory of the time that has passed returned to you?" she finally broke the quiet again, her voice raspy. "No, th' last I remember t'was th' bridge in th' shroud.” Gharen shook his head, his untrimmed hair falling heavily in front of his eyes. “Pretty sure'n tha' I was attacked. Tis... fuzzy at best." Roen only afforded him a sidelong glance, taking care to keep her tone and expression neutral. "Has Delial still told you nothing?" He looked back at her curiously. "Only tha' Nero has been put te grass, an' ye've had somethin' o' a hard time o' it." The paladin flexed her jaw and averted her gaze at the name, looking back out to the ocean. She was not yet ready to have that conversation yet. "Though I have th' distinct feelin' they're nae tellin me everythin',” Gharen continued to muse quietly. “Which is gettin tirin' in it's own way... bein' treated as if I may break upon th' slightest provocation." "You cannot blame them." Roen shrugged. When she turned to look at him, her voice had taken a cooler turn. "Who is to say they are wrong?" "I recall believin' tha' ye dispised me an dinnae want anythin' te do with me because I dinnae support ye in followin' Nero." He too turned, meeting her gaze dead on. "Given th' way our previous meetin' an' this one are goin', was I right?" Roen gave him a hard stare. A frown creased her brow despite her best efforts. "Think you so little of me?" The rain pelted the canvas of leaves above and the flames in front of them danced chaotically. "Dinnae know what te think right now,” Gharen barked back. “Because people feel th' need te nae talk te me about it. Given I don' have any recollection regardin' th' past cycle. Tis a bit o' a gap an' alot o' ground te cover. Only learned th' past couple o' suns ago tha' Ishgard has thrown open th' gates te their city." He shook his head as he looked away. "Somethin' I imagine tis old news an' would garner looks like I was a foreigner or a loon fer nae knowin'." Breath… the paladin told herself. Why were they rushing into this discussion already? Was this not what she had feared? And yet… she knew the truth would and should come forth eventually. Her brother was almost chomping at the bits to hear it. After one long exhale, the frown that had twisted her visage slowly faded again. "I understand your impatience,” she murmured. “It is as if you slept a long time. And while you slept, the world continued on." She turned back to the ocean and the waves that were violently crashing against the beach. “Give it time, Gharen. Not all of us are ready or wanting to relive those moons again." That did not quell his ire. Gharen planted his cane into the sand as he rose again hastily, his hand nearly shaking with the effort. "Don' forget th' part about while I slept, some thrice damned infernal dark side ran about causin' trouble an' gods know what else,” he snapped back. Roen shot him a narrowed look. "Indeed. That did happen. I would tell you what you want to know, only..." She exhaled sharply through her nose. "I know not the details. Delial, Kiht, and Kage... they were the ones that were following your trail." Gharen paused, looking at her expectantly. “"An ye were lookin' inte other leads or th' like?" The paladin’s gaze did not waver, although her entire form stiffened. Her fingers curled slightly upon the sand. "Nay." She shook her head slowly. "I only bid them to find you." Gharen furrowed his brow, confusion clear in his eyes. "While ye were doin' what?" Roen set her jaw, steeling herself. "As I tried to forget that the rest of the world existed." A long pause fell between the siblings again. Her brother seemed frozen in time for a moment as he made no sound or movement. Then he swallowed as her words seemed to sink in, and looked away from her. "So what yer meanin' te say... is ye were willin' abandon me te darkness,” he rasped. “Is tha' it, Little Wolf?" Roen felt a chill run down her spine at that name. It was the name his other self had used to call her. The Wolf was what the stranger wearing her brother’s face called himself. And yet he knew all the things that Gharen knew, and used his words against her like daggers that knew where to strike. A part of her always wondered how much of that rage-driven entity was actually a part of her brother’s own personality. Before she had a chance to answer, Gharen turned away and started to limp toward the beach. That brought the paladin to her feet, anger closing her hand into a fist. "I sent Kiht after you. I begged Delial to find you. I pleaded for Kage to aid you. But I was in no condition to do anything for you. Do you understand?" she shouted at his back. "You were not the only one fighting your own demons!" Gharen half turned to look over his shoulder, without meeting her eyes. "No, I don' understand, an' I don' suspect I will right away. Because I'd have moved mountains fer ye if'n t'was required o' me." When he turned toward the water again, the winds were finally beginning to diminish, and the sea was no longer angrily pounding against the sand. His tone quieted with resignation. "But ye are nae me, so I cannae expect ye te do as I would. Too true I suppose, alike but malms apart." "I cared for you, when this happened to you the first time. Have you forgotten already? All you remember is me siding with a lawless pirate. You think I despised you when it was me begging you not to get involved? So we do not stand on opposite sides?" Roen flexed her fingers, forcibly calming her tone. “We had not spoken. You disappeared. And… so did I. Only I did so, for a reason.” She exhaled and bowed her head. “I did not know what had happened. And you do not know what I was going through. Do not judge me for my--” The paladin paused mid-breath when she heard another approach behind her. When Delial let out a long sigh to announce her presence, Roen pressed her lips shut. This was not why she had come. Gharen glanced at the Highlander’s arrival, before he slowly strode further out toward the sea. “I need te think,” he muttered. "One might be surprised how well that tunnel carries.” Delial continued her approach toward the fire. “Why, I could hear you half way up the beach!" She crossed her arms as she came to a stop a few fulms away from the paladin, her eyes flitting between the two siblings. It soon came to linger on the elder who continued to walk away. "I should not have come." Roen sighed wearily. "This was what I feared every time I envisioned us talking." Her shoulders sank; her exasperation had faded with the storm’s retreat. Delial's countenance flattened from annoyed to simply placid, almost resigned. She did not look surprised at all to have witnessed the bickering. "It all sounds so familiar, does it not? Circles and circles of words. I did ask him to be patient with you, but I suppose patience and open-mindedness do not go hand in hand." Roen stared out into the night sky, where the stars were beginning to emerge. "I could have chosen better words. I... understand that he is angry. Frustrated. And hurt." She gave Delial a helpless shrug. "I told him I did not search for him." “He is angry, just as you say, and eventually he will have to come to terms with it." Delial glanced Gharen's way again, her lips pursed. "It ought be plain you two need each other. Just in what way, I suppose, is the question." When Roen did not answer, Delial lightened her tone. “Regardless, I am pleased you came. Your friend, is he...?" Her pale gaze searched the shadows behind the paladin, and her tone seemed to suggest that she was half expecting someone tall and dark and in a strange hat to be lost among the rocks. Roen let out a quiet snort, her mood easing slightly. "Ah, he is attending to his dried fish." She watched a log pop within the flames and followed a single ember as it took flight into the air. "Gratitude, Delial. For all this. Despite my debacle of an attempt, I think… overall it was good for him." Delial nodded as she lowered her hands to her hips. "That you made an attempt at all is important. I can say little on... on positive familial relations, I suppose, but I expect beneath that stubborn skin of his, Gharen understands it as well." She paused as she regarded the man in the distance. "He does not remember a thing. None of it, the year gone by. It must be extraordinarily difficult." "I cannot tell him what happened. I was not there." Roen lowered her head with that admission. "Forgive me that I leave it to you and Kiht to share those truths with him. As for my own... I do not know if or when I will be ready." When Roen looked to Delial, the Highlander wore a warmer expression, although it could have just been the flickering flames. "Kiht even calls what I did... brave,” the paladin continued, shaking her head. “And I see no bravery, or anything of honor in it. Is it wrong that I cannot let it go? She seems befuddled when I refuse to speak of it." Delial gave her an appraising look. "I speak from experience when I say... 'tis far, far easier said than done. Whether it was brave, or honorable, I do not know. But you will wear it all your life." Her words slowed with certainty. "Speak of it. Or do not. Everyone has their secrets. That ought be respected, blood or not." Roen pondered that in silence. It was a gradual feeling, but one that lifted the corner of her lips and lightened the weight upon her chest. Of all people, it was Delial that not only understood, but also accepted her unwillingness to share that painful memory again. “Gratitude,” Roen said quietly as she watched her brother send a small stone skipping out across the waves into the sea. "There is something I wished to ask you... though I am not certain if you would know." It was Delial’s turn to break the silence. When Roen gave her an expectant look, the Highlander began to chew one corner of her lip. “You have been working in and around Isghard, yes? Fighting all manner of things, I expect." “Aye. I have. What is it that you need?" "Voidsent." Roen blinked. She turned to the Highlander wide eyed. "Have you encountered any?" Delial stared right back, a sudden severity settling in her eyes. The paladin narrowed her eyes in thought. "I have not personally, but I do know that there is an underground fortress that was headed by House Dzemael. It is... said to be infested by the Voidsent. I have never been sent to fortify that area, I worked under the Knight Captain of House Durendaire. But all the knights know of the place." "Is that so? I see. I suspect the place I seek is one unknown." Delial did not seem entirely satisfied, her shoulders drooping. "Well, I intend to return whenever Gharen is... settled. Do me a favor and keep an ear to the ground for me, would you?" Roen nodded, when she spotted Gharen returning to the fire. He gave Delial a single nod before turning a stern visage upon the paladin. "I am sure'n ye had yer reasons, an' I may nae like, nor agree with them but above tha' yer family. An tha' takes precedence, tha' does nae change." Anger had faded from his voice. "I am... relieved to hear you say so,” Roen sighed, a small smile touching her lips. "Tha' ne'er changed an' was in question." Gharen looked between the two of them, before he began to shuffling off. "I'll head back te my room so tha' ye two can' catch up, or' gossip whichever t'was ye were doin'." Roen and Delial exchanged looks with each other, both of their expression having softened. Then from around the bend, the rocky tunnel echoed with one loud yell. “And no more pirate boyfriends!” The paladin pressed her lips together, staring off to where her brother had disappeared in disbelief. "Did he just...?" "Best not to question it, I think.” Delial crossed her arms again. Roen ran her hand over her forehead into her hair, still staring after Gharen’s footprints. She did not know whether to laugh or frown. “No more pirate boyfriends,” she echoed dumbly. "Nothing but trouble." Delial smirked. And for the first time, she did not feel as if all the air in her lungs was being choked out at the mention of him. "Nothing but trouble," she muttered. After an awkward moment of silence, Roen cleared her throat and looked back to Delial with a lighter expression in place. "Well, I should go. I shall keep an ear to the ground, for certain." Delial grinned warmly, and this time, the paladin was certain it was not the trick of the fire. "My thanks. I suppose I will be in touch when I return to the area. As pleasant as this has been... always work to be done." "Indeed, there is work to be done." The paladin looked around again. "As soon as I find Khadai..." she muttered, then paused as she gave the Highlander a pointed look. “You will take good care of Gharen, I trust.” Delial’s smile broadened a little more, almost playfully so. "I will try, at least." Roen arched her brow, unsure of what amused Delial so. Perhaps she did not want to know. Besides, Khadai had been out of her sight for far too long, perhaps he had gotten lost again. Or somehow found himself competing in some troublesome contest. The paladin was determined to discourage him from obtaining yet another bizarre trophy. She quickly spun on her heel and began to make her way toward the huts. “Stay well!” Roen paused, waving to Delial almost distractedly. Delial’s strange grin lingered as the woman gently waved her off.

Roen had led Khadai on a long meandering path away from the rest of the party. The conversation along the walk was about little things, the climate, some mundane facts about the region they were in… mostly small talk. It felt strange to just stroll along the coast, surrounded by vibrantly colored flowers, clear blue skies, and a warm sea breeze that washed over them now and then. Had she ever indulged in such a moment of leisure in the past year? Khadai seemed occupied with observing his surroundings, taking in the details of the new environment. He remained quiet as he listened, his usual long legged stride having slowed to an ambling gait to match hers. Roen finally paused when they reached the top of the bluff, taking a moment to look to the vast horizon. She did stay a good distance from the edge, as to not be able to look directly down. Another sweep of the summery winds tossed her forelocks from her eyes and rustled the ring of flowers that hung from her neck. "So this warm weather... do you like it?" she asked as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It has taken some time to adjust to it. The only thing close to such heat was whenever we ventured south into the lowlands." The Au Ra took a seat on a patch of grass and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It had past its zenith in the sky, and was headed westward. "This is a new environment. I have seen nothing like it yet. Although I do not particularly like moving on sand." "I see you have taken on the habit of kicking it every chance you get," she teased as she took a cautious step forward and took a seat next to him. Thankfully he had sat many fulms away from the edge of the cliff. "It is difficult to move in." He sounded consternated. "I pray I do not have to engage in combat in such circumstances. The lack of mobility would be problematic for tactical and strategic maneuvers." Roen shook her head slightly. He was always assessing the situation with practicality in mind, especially when it came to combat scenarios. "I do not think many see this place as a battleground. Most come here for leisure and relaxation." "There are many animals here,” Khadai observed. “The Jungsai would be hard pressed to outdo one another with such abundance." The paladin was starting to commit some of his tribal terms to memory. "The Jungsai... are the hunters?" He grunted. "Not hunters. They are animal caretakers. Sometimes their duties include hunting. The loudest ones will insist that hunting is all that good Jungsai do. But there are also shepherds, and… healers? Healers for animals. They interact with animals most of all." Roen nodded slowly, her eyes roaming to the buffaloes grazing in the distance. "I overheard what you said to the sergeant earlier. That I brought you here under the guise of 'work'." She glanced up at him. "Would you have come if I had not included some work to be done?" He did not answer immediately. "This place is… far from our objective. Had you not managed to impress upon me the practicality of this journey, I likely would not have come unless I had no other directives to adhere to at the moment." "I think they were all surprised that I came as well." She reflected quietly as she looked out to the horizon. "I thought it would do him some good, my brother, for me to be near. And I thought to thank Kiht and Delial for all that they had done. But the thought of just coming here to relax... it felt strange to me as well. Forgive me. I did bring you for company more than anything else." Khadai glanced at her. "Company?" Roen pressed her lips thinly, casting a hesitant glance his way. "Aye. To get some work done if all else failed." She frowned. Not only did that come out awkwardly, but it was not even the truth. "You believed that you would not be capable of accomplishing what you did without my presence?" She wrinkled her nose. "It was such a mundane thing, I know. But I had not seen them, not like this, for as long as I can remember. Have you ever felt nervous about going into a situation all by yourself?" "Hm,” the Au Ra pondered. “Nervous… no. Anxiety is a trait that is not present in any individual selected to be Khadai. But there are moments where I have been expected to act on incomplete information." Roen rolled her eyes. "I know that I was not in any mortal danger. But I did not think I could just show up and enjoy myself." Somehow she sensed that Khadai was not empathizing with her particular predicament, and to try and explain it would be a futile effort. "So you never actually felt anxious? How about afraid?" "Fear is a natural catalyst,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It is common to feel fear during battle. Fear heightens one's reflexes and attentiveness. Yes, I have experienced fear. But… what you call anxiety, no." She stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap her mind around it. "I see." Khadai seemed to sense her struggle as well. "To… hm. Fret, worry, doubt, is frowned upon. Those selected to be Khadai do not feel these things in any great measure, or they learn to quell such misgivings quickly." "Then I envy you,” she sighed. “Doubt and worry often plague much of my thoughts." "The price you pay for such a fluid society, one would imagine." Roen let out a soft snort as she looked back out to the sea. "That would explain many things. Perhaps that is why I seek your counsel. It is not fraught with misgivings." He turned to look at her. "Speak, then, and I will offer what I can." Roen chewed her lip in reluctance. "Kiht asked me what I am now. What I do now." She released a long exhale, trying to expel that familiar sinking feeling in her chest. "Such a question I used to be able to answer so easily before. I could say, 'I am a Sultansworn, sworn to protect the Sultana.' Or 'a free paladin, sworn to protect those who need my assistance.'" She frowned. "I did not know how to answer her today. At least... not right away." She drew her legs to herself, wrapping her arms around her bare knees. "I knew my purpose. Who I was. Or who I thought I was supposed to be. Then... I lost it." She had confessed something similar to Khadai many moons ago, in a basement lit with torches while a snowstorm raged on outside. Only now, her words were not fraught with emotion and she felt more at ease sharing her thoughts. "I suppose... I am trying to determine who I am now. How do you do that, if you believe you are no longer who you thought you were?" "A complicated question." The Au Ra’s face twisted into a wry grin. "Would that a Tsenkhai were present to answer it for you. You defined yourself by your purpose. 'Sworn to protect the Sultana'. 'Sworn to protect those who need your assistance.' Your goal was to protect. Is that no longer the case?" Roen blinked. "It is all I know how to do. And yet… I suppose I have lost my confidence in my instincts.” "You believe that you no longer have the capability to protect those you wish to. Thus you believe that it is inappropriate for yourself to identify yourself by that cause." She merely gave him a sidelong glance, not quite turning to look at him fully. "Perhaps." Khadai still continued to look out to the horizon, his eyes squinting as if to focus on something too far to see. His hand was casually propped upon his bent knee, and his tone was thoughtful. "Aptitude alone does not define one's purpose. Inclination and motivation is important as well. A warrior who is skilled but unmotivated is less preferable to a warrior who is untrained but desires to improve." Roen dipped her head, glancing down as she started to absently straighten the tie of her pareo that fell over her lap. "I thought the want was enough. If one tried their best, then no matter what, they can tell themselves at the end that they did all they could do." Her idle fingering of the fabric stopped. "But simply being good with a sword and shield was not enough. Simply being willing to do all that was necessary was not enough. I have seen others, who have been 'protecting' people far longer than I have. I see some of them hardened. Is that what I was lacking?" "You are overthinking.” He glanced her way. “Does your desire to protect others remain, or does it not?" Her face twisted into a frown. "It remains. But is often struggling against the fear that I will fail them. And it would leave them worse than before." "You have failed before, else you would not have these doubts. I repeat the question. Does your desire to protect others remain?" Roen stiffened, her jaw set. She just nodded. "Then why is it that you can no longer identify yourself by the same label?” His questioning was insistent, but his tone remained unobtrusive. “As one who wishes to protect?" "Because after failing so spectacularly, how could I be so brazen enough to take up such a task again? Has your tribe never deemed someone unfit for their job after they have been assigned?" He pursed his lips. "Mobility is rare, but not unheard of. There are occasions where, for example, Khadai are crippled and can no longer serve in that capacity. Or, there are cases where an individual lacks the interest and motivation, and thus become inefficient. The role no longer fits them." "Then what happens? How do you assign them a new role?" He paused, tilting his head somewhat. "The Tsenkhai are called to investigate the individual. Their peers are consulted. The individual themselves are tested to find both their aptitudes and inclination. And then they are presented with a choice." He stared out back into the ocean, his expression distant. "The process is… extensive. Individuals are a precious resource and must be used efficiently. If an individual cannot find their aptitude or their inclination, then the process repeats with additional variables." "So then your... Tsenkhai are the ones that determine what other options lay before them." "When an individual is at a loss of purpose, they cannot be relied upon to resolve such a dispute by themselves. Externalities are required in order to spur them onward. The Tsenkhai fill that purpose, yes." He turned his gaze back to her. “There are times where the Tsenkhai have been approached by individuals desiring a reassignment, and are turned away. You would be one of those, I imagine." When Roen shot him a questioning look, he was still regarding her intently. “'Recall when we sparred at the Falcon's Nest. We fought one another. Do you believe the effort you put forth into that fight then was the effort of one who no longer had the capacity to protect?" "I am still capable with sword and shield. That is not where I doubt my abilities!" "You do not doubt your capacity to protect others, yet you doubt whether or not you are capable enough to label yourself as one who protects others?" His expression could be called one of bemusement, though the overall severity that seemed permanently affixed to his face remained. Still, a corner of his lip curled upwards. "Why is it that it seems so simple and straightforward when it comes out of your mouth?" she mumbled under her breath. "You do not believe that it is appropriate for you to label yourself a protector. Then do not. Simply acknowledge that I am labelling you as a protector, then. You do not have to believe it. You need only believe that I believe it." He gave a small shrug, as if to say 'it is as simple as that'. Roen stared at him, her eyes narrowing. Her lips parted as if to formulate some retort, but instead she pressed them into a tight line and stared straight ahead. "I hope I do not prove you wrong then," she finally murmured. "The day you prove me wrong is the day that you have obtained a new label that is not 'protector', and should that happen, whether I was right or wrong will no longer matter." Roen blinked, her expression sobering slightly. She continued to stare out into the ocean, as the sun was almost reaching the end of its westward journey. The sea was starting to glitter red-gold, to reflect the turn of the sky above. The paladin narrowed her eyes when she spotted a trail of clouds that seemed to be following the sun’s path, and the palm trees swayed above with more vigor than before. For all the sun and the warmth, Costa Del Sol had its fair share of tropical showers, this Roen knew. The paladin rose to her feet, straightening the silk fabric around her waist. "Perhaps we should go look to your fish to make certain they are drying properly and sheltered from the weather. This place is known for its unpredictable rainfalls." Khadai squinted as he too studied the sky above. "It is quite difficult to botch curing. They have been affixed to the rack. They will survive." Even though his tone was confident, he rose after her, checking his belt to take account of all of his tools. Roen regarded the Au Ra thoughtfully. "Maybe while we travel to Dravania... you can provide some instruction on how you do some of the things you do. Curing fish, for example. Or archery, as you taught those children on how to use a bow." "What do you wish to learn? Though you should be aware that I am barely considered a novice. A few moons of instruction by other castes was enough to prepare me for this journey, so they felt." The paladin crossed her arms with a skeptical arch of the brow. “I have watched you long enough to know that you are proficient in many things. You seemed more well-rounded in your knowledge than you lead others to believe” Khadai glanced at her. "I am an exception. I was trained to be entirely self-sufficient, should it have been required. Necessity is capable of training one in many things." "Hmph." She pursed her lips. "Then perhaps your Tsenkhai should have given you a different name than just Khadai." There was a hint of jest in her voice. "My aptitude in the other fields does not even begin to approach what is required. Khadai fits fine," he returned, the corner of his lip curling slightly. "You even admitted that you are an exception, as I recognize you to be. And yet you are content to label yourself along with others.” She shrugged. “As you say.” It was growing later than she had imagined, and she wondered if the group below had missed them in their absence. “We should return,” she murmured as her gaze followed the coastline to the long piers and the huts of Costa Del Sol. “But perhaps with some refreshments from the vendors nearby.” She had not tried all of the colorful drinks and the desserts that Costa Del Sol had to offer, and strangely she was feeling adventurous. A part of her was even more curious on how Khadai would receive such things. There was a smile of anticipation that lifted her lips as she began to make her way down the bluff. “We can investigate such things,” the Au Ra answered intently as he followed behind. His tone was already hinting that he was starting to critically evaluate those plans.

[[This post is following the events of this post.]] The sun was almost too bright. Roen raised her hand to shade her eyes from glittering expanse of blue in front of her. Both the ocean and the sand seemed to be soaking in the summer warmth as they all glistened under the midday sun. It was such a contrast from the grey snow-covered fields and mountains of Coerthas, that it almost felt like a dream. A silhouette of a lone figure entered her view, sprinting directly for the embrace of the sea. A lean Midlander clad only a loose pair of shorts, leaped into the air as he tucked his knees up to his chest and hit the water with a bold splash. His entire form disappeared beneath a large foamy wave and did not reemerge for a few moments. Roen blinked as she sat up straight, her eyes squinting at the water. Then Osric broke through the surface with a loud yelp. “L-L-Llymlaen’s piss, it’s cold!” The paladin exhaled with a relaxed curl to her lips. She leaned back, her fingers burrowing beneath the blanket of soft sand, as she glanced to the rest gathered on the beach. It was all familiar faces that roamed about, with the ocean breeze lightly carrying their conversations like a distant babble. Delial was by the bonfire, roasting some pieces of skewered meat. This gathering was her and Kage’s idea after all, so the Highlander came prepared to feed the guests. Delial seemed relaxed despite the absence of her co-conspirator; her hair was let down loosely with a flower pinned next to her ear. She hummed quietly as she turned the meat this way and that. The wafting scent of roasting aldegoat had already produced a small rumble in Roen’s stomach, so it was no surprise that the two Miqo’tes of the group were already hovering near the Highlander. Kiht was leaning in and sniffing, her expression one of clear anticipation. The Keeper’s love of meat was no secret, something that she had shared with Roen during one of their first meetings. She was chatting casually with Delial and U’Roh, Gharen’s long time friend. The paladin noted that her Keeper friend was preferring to linger under the shade afforded by the tall palm trees, but even the no-nonsense hunter had dressed for the occasion, with a light camise and a coeurl hide wrapped around her hips. This was as carefree as Roen had ever seen Kiht. Roen shifted slightly to adjust the lei that rested over her chest. Even as casually dressed as Kiht was, the Keeper still commented that she had expected the paladin to come more clothed. Roen tugged on the red scarf that was tied around her waist, tightening its knot as she recalled the heat that rose to her cheeks. "It's a bit late for modesty now, Roen. There's no shame in showing off a bit, you know." A sudden memory flitted before her eyes, with that familiar teasing tone and his icy-blue gaze hidden beneath long orange forelocks. "Besides, I'd wager more than half of Ul'dah's noblewomen would kill to have shapely legs like yours." Nero’s comment had made her blush slightly, and she reflexively crossed her arms over her chest. “Must you do that,” she remembered muttering at him, diverting her eyes from the pirate’s bare chest as he lounged on the beach. She had convinced herself she had grown used to him trying to throw her off guard. "Can't help myself. Besides, you must have picked something like that in order to catch my attention, no?" He flashed a wink at her from the corner of his eye. "To which I say, mission accomplished." Roen squinted at the bright glare from the ocean as the beam of sunlight hit it just right, and the memory of her last time on the beach faded from her view. The melancholy it brought brushed over her like a piece of silk floating upon the wind, leaving just a touch of wistfulness before it disappeared. No longer did such memories take hold of her thoughts like a vice. She returned to watching the three by the fire for a moment longer, before her attention roamed to her brother who was shuffling around the sand with a cane in hand. This beach picnic was to celebrate his return after all, after such a long absence. The past year had been difficult for him as many others, this Roen could not deny, and a beach party was a much needed respite. The paladin began to play absently with one of the flowers that rested just below her collarbone to chase away her sense of unease. She had not known what to say to Gharen when she saw him in Coerthas after he had regained his memory. He had been badly injured, that much had been made certain, and was convalescing under Delial’s care. Not knowing how to start the conversation then, Roen had set about assessing his physical state and doling out orders on what he should not be doing that would further delay his recovery. Gharen seemed surprised in her business like attitude, but did not prod her much. Just how was she to tell him then and there, all that had happened since she saw him over a year ago? And the fact that he did not yet even realize what he had done during that time… Roen was pulled from her reverie when Osric came trotting up, curling his arm around Kanaria who had also quietly taken up a spot near the paladin. Kanaria did not seem to mind her husband’s wet arms wrapping around her very pregnant belly. The former sergeant propped his chin upon his wife’s shoulder, and gave her a soft buss on the cheek. The two seemed happy, Roen observed, and Osric seemed just a little softer around the edges whenever he was in Kanaria’s presence. "How're you holdin' up?" he asked as he turned his attention to the paladin. His tone was casual, but when their eyes briefly met, Roen recognized the sincerity of his question. "I am... better than I was,” she answered honestly, before giving the Midlander a look over. "As you are, I imagine?" He answered her with his usual grin. "We're doin' fine, I think. The latest insanity ain't nearly as insane." "Do I want to know?" Roen arched a brow. "No." The Lominsan’s answer was short and succinct. They both nodded at each other in understanding. "I hope you found a way to eliminate much of the insanities from your life, what with a child on the way." The paladin’s voice softened as she only briefly glanced at Kanaria’s midsection. "I honestly cannot imagine you a father." Osric looked somewhat stricken. "Oh?" Roen paused. She was about to comment on his penchant for violence, his recklessness, and his usually brash outlook. But in each of those instances where she had pictured, him, he was always helping someone else too. "Actually, I can." She shook her head. "You were a protective figure to many, from what I remember." That seemed to please the sergeant as he exchanged a look with his wife. Looking beyond the two, Roen spotted her brother limping in their direction. She had yet to even greet him since arriving at the beach for he was inundated with well wishes from everyone else. And yet when he finally came within ear’s reach, Roen barked out a cool order. "Gharen, you should sit." Gharen grinned as he leaned against a large outcropping of rocks. "Soon enough. I have been bed ridden long enough te want te get about regardless, if'n it means as a man long in years may." Osric craned his head toward the Highlander. "I have two sisters. When they tell you t'sit, you sit." “Technically, I am.” Gharen gave the sergeant a crook of the brow as he shifted his weight to indicate the rock he was leaning against. "At least your stubbornness is a sign of your recovery,” Roen chided him, but her tone did not hold any true reproach. But she also recognized that it did not hold much warmth. She was already feeling tense around her brother. It was then that the sound of feet awkwardly shuffling through sand reached her ears and Roen gladly stood and turned around. She knew it to be Khadai, for their entire walk through the beach upon arriving at Costa Del Sol, his unfamiliarity in coping with such a landscape was made plainly obvious. He had a veritable small whirlwind wherever he walked, his slippered feet kicking up sand with every step. He had left the group for a bit after the initial introductions, having misplaced some of the tools he had brought. It was the only way Roen could conceive of suggesting that he come to such a gathering as this, as an opportunity to study the pattern of aether further south of Coerthas. He had come to the beach wearing a light tunic and shorts, but the heavy tool belt that hung around his waist still marked him out of place. When she noticed that he had not returned for many minutes, she was starting to worry that he had gotten lost. Again. So her mood had already beginning to lighten when she turned, relieved that no man hunt was needed. But when she gazed up at the Au Ra again, only one thing captured her attention. “What… is that.” Osric was first to give voice to what everyone was staring at. Roen, as well as the rest of those gathered, were staring at the roasted dodo that was crowning Khadai’s head. It was an elaborate hat of some sort, with decorative foliage, vegetables, and even a couple of tail feathers, all placed carefully at the base of a hat that featured a glistening, browned, roasted bird. Khadai seemed nonchalant about it as he climbed onto a rock and sat with crossed legs. “It is a prize won in a physical competition. I am told that it is indicative of one’s mastery.” Osric somehow maintained his deadpan tone. “Er… well, that’s technically correct…” “You have a cooked bird. On your head.” Roen was still staring. "I had lost my way.,” Khadai explained. “I was forced to question the natives as to my location and destination. They did not respond to threats and required that I take part in a competitive display. I successfully defeated the enemy in stone-throwing, oyster diving, running, balancing atop a stake of wood, and the accurate destruction of of seed-bearing fruit." Roen just crossed her arms, her eyes slowly narrowing. Khadai gestured to his hat. "This adornment is proof of that… I believe. There remained no surviving competitors." Roen glanced at everyone else first, to gauge their reaction, before she stared back dumbfounded at the Au Ra. "You got lost... and then did all that?" “It was required in order to ascertain my location." While Khadai was looking at her, his eyes did not quite meet her gaze. "Roen, where'd you two meet again?" Osric asked that in a tone of voice that rather implied that she'd picked up a stray. The paladin found herself leaning in slightly toward the Xaela, as if to try and will the right answer out of him. "And what do you mean by no surviving competitors... you left them healthy and breathing after a friendly competition, right?" "Yes,” the Au Ra warrior answered easily. “I was successful in breaking their competitive spirit and ensuring no further conflict of this nature. Peace is hard-earned." He punctuated his statement with a sage nod. Roen could see from the corner of her eyes as Osric released his wife and turned away. His shoulders began to shake first, before he broke into laughter. "You bring honor to your name,” Kiht called out, biting back a smirk. “Well done." Roen let out a long sigh. Everyone else was finding humor in it, so she tried to convince herself that she should as well. "Well… at least you found your way back. With sustenance no less." "It is ornamental. I do not believe it is edible. And it would not be of good conduct to falsely display my prowess." There was not one onze of humor in Khadai’s observations. That made Roen make another befuddled face. "That is not edible?” She stepped toward him and raised herself onto the tips of her toes to study this fashion atrocity. “Why would someone make such a thing?" Khadai frowned. "It is to display one's physical mastery of various competitions. Were you not paying attention?" Anything else that Roen might have retorted was bitten off when Kiht also stepped toward the Xaela. She too leaned this way and that to study the bird on the hat. "Clearly, Roen, it is a symbol of victory and power. Like a hunter returning with game, or a chef who has cooked a fine meal." The amusement in her voice was just barely hidden. Khadai seemed oblivious to it, as he held up his aether compass in the air. His expression turned quizzical and Roen could see the needle still spinning rather unhelpfully. He frowned at it as if it was mocking him. "She is correct. On that subject, I had retrieved these implements for a reason, in any case. Perhaps the fish will be intimidated by my mastery." He nodded confidently to himself. "Approach me should you require me." As the Au Ra walked away to a distant group of rocks closer to the water, Roen gave Kiht a pointed look. The Keeper only allowed her expression to break into an open smirk when Khadai was out of range. "Gods, where did you find him? Not that I do not like him, but I did not expect to see you make an Au Ra friend in Coerthas." The paladin pondered on how to answer that for a moment before she gave a hapless shrug. "How we crossed paths is a long story. He has much to learn about this place. But… he is a good man when all is said and done. If not a bit odd and severe." Kiht followed her gaze down to the coast. "Remember when we were like that? Hells, I thought I was odd until seeing him. Now I feel so... well-adjusted." Roen dipped her head as a chuckle escaped. "He does remind me of you. Khadai. A little." “Sorry to interrupt,” U’roh piped up as he trotted up beside them. In his hands were two skewers of roasted aldegoat meat. “Delivery!” He held out one to each of them. Kiht readily snatched up the offering. "Gratitude! I am now in love with you, bearer of food." The wide grin upon her face was one that Roen was not used to seeing. She was actually teasing him! Neither was U'roh, as his eyes widened, slight color rising to his cheeks. "Y-you’re quite welcome!" He beamed. "Enjoy!" The Miqo’te skittered off, and it was after he was yalms away that Roen turned back to Kiht. Her Keeper friend was already eagerly tearing into her meat. “Now look at you,” Roen gave her a sly grin. “Well-adjusted indeed.” "I will not deny it. I knew naught outside of the Shroud. But Othard is not even in Eorzea. Khadai has even more to adapt to. But…” The huntress paused in her devouring of the aldegoat, her dark eyes regarding the paladin warmly. “You were kind to me as well. Even after I called you a Hyur female like an idiot…” Roen chuckled as she took a bite of her own skewer. “You never sounded like an idiot. Just… new. And honest.” She turned the meat in her hand, allowing some juices to drip down to the sand below. “I think back to those times, now and then. When things were so much simpler.” Kiht took another bite of her morsel and closed her eyes as if to savor its taste. “Mmm.” She peeked one eye open. “And look at you now. Eating meat. I am so proud.” She grinned again. “I claim credit.” "Quite insistent you were about consumption of meat! I cannot say the wisdom was for naught." The paladin sighed as she picked at the last chunk of aldegoat. "I miss the simpler times. I am hoping to return to such suns." She watched from the corner of her eyes as Kanaria joined U’roh and Delial by the fire; Gharen and Osric had strolled off by themselves closer toward the water to hold a private conversation. "Nostalgia hitting you hard then?” Kiht gave Roen a side eye. “Well, I am not going anywhere. If you wish, I can act ignorant of everything again." Roen nearly choked on her meat as she snorted. "Nay! I like you just as you are.” The chuckle that rose was quick to fade, as she kept her gaze on the two men by the sea. “But reconnecting with Gharen and helping Khadai seek out what he needs to find... these should be simple things." "They should be. They can be. I had to work with Gharen when he was The Wolf, now I talk to him, and he is a honey-head by comparison. As for Khadai, treat him like you did me... without the getting captured twice part." To that, the Keeper was rewarded with a withering look. "Apologies.” Kiht blinked. “I am still sharp with my words right now. That was mayhaps a bit too sharp. I jest..." Roen could not hold the look for long, the corner of her lips lifted soon enough. "I shall try my best. I know I worried you so, then." She turned her attention back toward the waves foaming upon the sand. "Is it odd? I have butterflies in my stomach when I anticipate talking to my own brother now. But when speaking to you, or Delial... or Khadai, I have no such hesitation." She glanced to the distant figure of the Au Ra with his fishing pole. "As severe as he is, he makes a unique confidant. Another thing he has in common with you, in truth." "Odd to me, mayhaps.” Kiht looked puzzled. “Family is important to keepers, and naught to be afraid of. But... you did not always know Gharen was family, and before you went to Coerthas, you both were at odds." She gave Roen a long look. "I assure you he wants to talk to you though." "That I do not question.” The paladin shifted uneasily. “But his words, and his tone… he recalls nothing. And perhaps that is why it does not weigh on him even in the slightest." Her expression fell slightly as did her gaze. “But I cannot shed those memories as easily as he has. Perhaps I worry that I do not want to return to him those burdens, but I cannot pretend nothing has happened nor that it no longer matters." Kiht canted her head slightly and there was a look of empathy upon her face. "Talk about one thing at a time. What weighs on you the most? Mayhaps start there." Roen stared at her, before she quickly shook her head. "I cannot talk about that." The Keeper stared at her back with slumped shoulders. She did not bother hiding her disappointment. "Very well, mayhaps start with something light. If it would help, I can stand with you." "You cannot expect me to just bring up the fact that I killed the man that had caused a rift between us?" Roen hissed quietly. "Or that I grieve him still? Or do I mention that while he was not himself, he killed... I do not know how many? I have no idea how would even start such a conversation." The paladin parted her lips as if to continue, then pressed them shut when she saw Gharen and Osric approach the group again. Khadai had also returned, with a hand full of fish on hand. Kiht too gave them all a glance, her voice now barely above a whisper. Her expression had turned somber. "You have a fair point. I just... believe in openness. The sooner you rid yourself of old burdens, the sooner things can become more simple. But start light this sun. I hear his memories might return, and if they do, the conversation will happen. You both have guilt you have to resolve, and I do not want to see you run off again, or he become a monster again." "It has been a difficult year," Delial’s words to Osric floated upon the wind and it made Roen pause. "Anyone would age, given that." The Highlander had not made a single effort to join the paladin, but Roen could guess that the she was keeping an eye on everyone. Osric raised his skewer in salute. "Grimsong, I owe you an apology for ever doubtin' your womanly charms. This is delicious." When Roen was reassured that the others paid her and Kiht no mind, she continued. "Do not worry for such a thing. I am done running. I will not disappear again without word." Kiht’s ears lowered. "I will take your word for it then. But just speak with him on a light matter then." The Keeper glanced from the paladin to the group now gathered near the fire. "I shall.” Roen nodded. “I promise." "Gratitude.” The Keeper’s gaze was soft, but there was now a teasing curl to her expression. “I will accept your moving an ilm as a victory." Roen narrowed her eyes in turn, but also with a twinkle of mirth to her gaze. "An ilm." She held up two fingers, a space of just such between them. Kiht smirked confidently. "All harrowing journeys start with an ilm." The paladin snorted, a smile rising to her lips. "Wise words. And since I know you do keep tabs on my whereabouts from time to time, I may be in Dravania in the near future. Not alone. I will be helping Khadai in his quest." She glanced at the Au Ra, now seated by the rocks again, quietly conversing with Osric. Kiht brightened. "Stop by Tailfeather. Nice place. Depending on when you go, I may be closer than you think." She leaned toward the paladin with a mischievous look. "I promise it is not to watch you this time. I have not done that since you left for Coerthas." “You gave me the time I needed,” Roen nodded in thanks. “And I shall return the favor by keeping in touch this time. Who knows? Perhaps we will run into each other in Dravania if your own path takes you there." She paused then shook her meatless skewer at the Keeper. "And remember your promise. If you need aid that you would send word. We have yet to fight side by side." "Gratitude, Roen." Kiht’s expression warmed. "I have not forgotten. I may find trouble just to fulfill that promise." Roen grinned back. "I will be looking forward to it." "I think we are being watched," Kiht half turned, eyeing Osric and Khadai. "More like waited on!" Osric hollered back and slid off his perch on the rock next to the Au Ra. Roen dipped her head as Kanaria and Osric approached Kiht, and the paladin made her way back to the Xaela. She leaned onto the rock that he was seated on. “I heard you have a new supply of fish.” Khadai glanced down at her, the ocean winds tossing his long locks over his eyes. "We will be remaining here for another sun or longer in order to allow the fish to dry. They will make substantially useful provisions." He seemed to be regarding her carefully. "Has this… been helpful for you?" Not having expected such a direct question, Roen chewed on that for a moment. While she had spoken to him about her brother’s illness, she had not exactly discussed her anxiety in reconnecting with Gharen since his return. It surprised her that he had been astute enough to inquire about her in such a way. She glanced over her shoulder toward the beach where Delial and Gharen had taken a spot on the sands to watch the waves. “It has… in some ways.” She inhaled deep of the salty air, and pushed herself off the rock and looked up at the Au Ra. She smiled at him. “Walk with me.”

Some more IC screenshots!

Yay! I get a chance to compliment Marty! ...Except I have absolutely nothing nice to say. That guy is rotten to the core, a grumpfest, and unfriendliest of the bunch. Only these are things that no one would ever say about Mar. Since the day I approached him for RP, he has been nothing but cheerful, patient, understanding, and friendly. Even when my work kind of threw me out of the RP groove for awhile, he still made the effort to keep in contact with me. Not everyone feels comfortable in sending a simple hello without any other agenda, but he takes the time to do so! He's a stand-up person and a great roleplayer.

Hi Jace! I remember the old days in the Quicksand! Although I think we met in Gridania...? Good times~

1) Blue Bird 2) Moonfire set 3) Rug 4) Tonberry All the hearts for the giveaways! :love::love::love:

Over eighteen years ago. Josette twiddled her thumbs. The study within the Brooks manse was an imposing room if not a bit sparse. The polished floor tiles were made of carefully chosen and expertly carved stones, and they echoed the footsteps of any who walked about with haunting clarity. A vase filled with Halone Gerbera decorated each corner of the room, and the room's sofas and finely crafted chairs were arranged throughout the space to allow for conversations, yet distanced just enough to discourage anything more intimate. The dark bookshelves nearly touched the crown molding on the vaulted ceilings, and stood proudly on either side of the massive desk that was the central point of the room. Each shelf was filled with volumes of written history regarding Ishgard’s Thousand Year War and countless more tomes with interpretations and reiterations of the Enchiridion. A large oil painting of the fully armored goddess Halone hung on the wall behind the desk, her portrait gilded in a golden frame. Lord Brooks had meant for the depiction of the Goddess to draw the eyes of all who entered the room. Lewan had said that it was because of his father’s singular devotion to the Goddess of War that he dedicated this room to Her glory, and also the reason he removed many other decorations once Lady Brooks was no longer present. Josette missed the thick ornate rugs that used to shelter the guests’ feet from the cold tiles, and the rest of the walls seemed barren without the paintings of the rest of the family that used to hang there. But since his wife’s departure, Lord Brooks had dedicated almost all of his waking hours to the duties of the Inquisition, and wanted his house to reflect his unwavering faith. So it was with much surprise that Josette learned that Lord Brooks’ only daughter, Rissalyn, had come under the tutelage of an arcanist within the Scholasticate. It was well known that the Holy See frowned upon arcanima and summoning magic, for the latter was oft used by heretics. But supposedly there were enough proponents who argued for understanding such magic to better combat it, that pockets of research were being allowed. Anything to further strengthen Ishgard’s defenses against those who would threaten it, Josette could hear Lewan say. But still… none within the city would ever imagine allowing such teachings to their children. Surely Lysa would have voiced such concerns to her lord if there was any doubt of this new teacher’s credibility and faith. Rissa’s nanny had become fiercely protective of her ward since her mother’s departure, and such a thing as this would not have gone past her notice. Josette felt a small pang of guilt in her heart that as Rissa’s best friend, she herself did not know how this came about. She knew her friend was quite skilled in calculations and numbers--those things that Josette had no taste for--but when did she express interest in studying arcanima? Josette blamed herself for her ignorance; she had not been spending as much time with her best friend lately, especially when Lewan had some reprieve from his duties as a squire. Rissa would never begrudge me for spending time with her brother. She loves her brother as much as I do. So when Rissalyn asked Josette to attend one of her lessons with her new teacher, Josette accepted the invitation without hesitation. Despite her apprehensions, she greeted the elder Elezen, Emert Fouinon, with her most pleasant smile and bearing perfect decorum, as any well bred lady should. But as Josette watched them carry out their lesson, she wondered if Halone herself would condone the education that was being dispensed just beneath her austere gaze. I am being silly, she chided herself repeatedly. Rissa’s own father must have approved of this and if it has an Inquisitor’s approval, who am I to doubt? She straightened the cashmere silk of her dress as she shifted in her seat, before turning her nervous attention back to the two other figures in the room. Rissalyn was seated on the floor, and was intently combing over the details written in the grimoire that was opened in front of her. Josette could tell from her silence that her friend was in intense concentration, she had not moved or said a word in almost a bell since she was set to task. Sitting on the edge of the desk a few fulms away from Rissa was her teacher, he too with a thick tome held in his hands. He was flipping through the pages back and forth, penning notes now and then. “I am ready, Master Fouinon.” Rissalyn’s quiet voice seemed loud as any midday bell amidst the silence. Both Josette and Master Fouinon looked up at the girl, the latter closing his own grimoire. “Do proceed, Rissa.” The Elezen adjusted his glasses. Josette found herself leaning slightly forward in anticipation, intently watching her friend. Rissa’s violet eyes were narrowed, although her expression remained meek as ever. But her gaze was not upon any particular object in the room, it was staring into the empty air. Her hand began to move, as if of their own accord, and her friend’s pupils darted this way and that as if she saw imaginary shapes spinning in the air. Josette gasped as a shaft of light pierced through the floor in front of Rissa, as if it was cutting through the ground from underneath. She could only watch breathlessly as the thin white beam then grew into a bright column to overtake her vision. Still, in the distance, Josette could see Rissa continuing to trace more configurations. When the white glare faded from her eyes, a creature surrounded in light stood in the room. Its black eyes blinked curiously as it looked about, and its furry blue tail swayed excitedly. It was a creature like she had never seen before; its coat seemed to be made of the clearest blue summer sky. “Very well done, Rissa!” Master Fouinon clasped his hands together. “How quickly you learned those calculations to summon a carbuncle! And with such precision!” The Elezen leaned over to glance at her grimoire, as if to scrutinize her work. Rissalyn and the blue carbuncle seemed to be staring at each other wordlessly, its reflection bright against her glasses. The creature made no noise, nor did it seem affectionate, but it seemed lively and eager as it turned and hopped from one stone tile to the other. Wherever it went, that shimmering glow that emanated from its furry coat accompanied him, lending a gentle illumination to an otherwise dimly lit study. Josette could only stare at the scene, her mouth agape. Her first instinct was to look at the door, to make sure that it was locked. Summoning was forbidden, was it not…? Josette was suddenly not sure. Was Master Fouinon allowed to teach such things to other Ishgardian residents? The Elezen seemed most curious about his studies with an eccentric and almost aloof personality, much like Rissa. But certainly someone from the Scholasticate would abide by the rules with more care than his student who was merely in her teens. The older girl could only fidget her seat, ringing her fingers. Did Lord Brooks truly approve of all this? Josette was now old enough to observe that since the loss of his wife, the Inquisitor had been more willing to allow his daughter to spend her time as she wished, as long as she was out of his way. Not that Rissalyn was the type of girl to ask for her father’s attentions, but since he was away from home on most occasions, it was only proper that his daughter’s education was attended to with some diligence. Just how aware was he of his own daughter’s interests? Even still, Master Fouinon and Rissalyn only kept their lessons to her father’s study, which was strategically located in the back of the estate. The servants were strictly instructed not to interrupt them, and Lysa enforced this without fail and even locked the doors for the duration. All the curtains were drawn to further secure their privacy, and only the flickering candles of the candelabra and the majestic painting stood witness to the practice of arcanima . Josette fought a shiver as she was unsure of what to do. Then she paused. Rissa had extended a hand to the blue carbuncle, her expression still bland. The creature tilted its head and hopped forward, sniffing at her upturned palm. Finding nothing here, it nudged her knuckles with its nose to turn her hand over. When Rissa allowed it, the carbuncle slid its head beneath her palm. The girl’s violet eyes widened at the sudden gesture, her lips parting with delight. The carbuncle stretched beneath her hand, and Rissa took the opportunity to run her fingers through its fur over the length of its back to the tip of its voluminous tail. Josette too, somehow found herself smiling. The carbuncle… despite being a summoned creature, it was an enchanting thing. And it wasn’t some disgusting multi-legged crawly thing that Rissa always seemed to find fascinating. For the first time, her friend seemed somewhat taken in by something that could be considered adorable. Certainly the Holy See would not see such creatures as a threat... “You seem to have a gift for this, little lady.” Master Fouinon adjusted his spectacles again, his expression beaming with both astonishment and pride. “To successfully summon on your first try! I knew you were talented, after learning the first two spells with such ease...” “That was amazing, Rissa.” Josette finally peeled herself off of her chair, approaching the two. She kept a cautionary distance between herself and the carbuncle, but she could not help give it a curious glance or two as she smiled at her friend. “I had no idea your studies have come so far.” “I was not sure she would be able to do it on her first try,” Master Fouinon observed as he stroked his chin. “And the carbuncle has taken to her rather quickly as well! I have seen these things run about unchecked in the hands of an poorly learned caster.” “Can I summon other things?” Rissa looked up at the Elezen, her expression bright. It was a break from her usual subdued visage and it made Josette take notice of it. The question should have alarmed her, and yet the excitement that she saw renewed in her friend’s eyes--that light that had been absence since her mother’s departure--it too made Josette glance to Master Fouinon in anticipation. The Elezen let out a laugh, although Josette thought she saw him glance at the door for an instant. “Ah… not so fast, dear pupil. I still need to convince the rest of the Scholasticate and my superiors that further studies should certainly be sanctioned. But you bring me hope that my research can educate and empower those who are willing to learn.” Rissa said nothing, disappointment clear in her slumped frame. Josette maintained her silence as Master Fouinon gathered his belongings, gave instructions of further studies for his student, and then left the premise. The carbuncle also disappeared with a flash of light, leaving the two girls alone in the dark study. “There are other things that can be summoned,” the younger girl said quietly. “Master Fouinon says that he has learned of a realm of untapped energy and creatures that no one even knows of. One only needs to figure out a way to open a portal to summon them.” Josette had been parting the heavy drapes, letting the orange glow of the sunset wash into the room. She frowned as she turned to Rissa, who was still seated on the cold tile floor. The girl’s shadows were lengthening behind her. “You heard Master Fouinon,” Josette warned sternly. “Do not take this summoning arts lightly. One dances too closely toward charges of heresy when dabbling in such things. If it was not for your father--” Josette stopped herself when she saw Rissalyn’s face lose all the elation it held before. It was in that moment that she resolved to holding her tongue on the matter, at least not voicing her doubts to Rissa. It was clearly something that her friend was excited about, and Josette did not want to put a damper on it if she could help it. Perhaps she would ask Lewan for his council. Certainly, her brother would have some thoughts on this. Tying the drapes with a thick woven cord, she approached her friend and kneeled in front of her. She reached out and closed her hands around that of the younger girl. “I am glad you invited me today,” Josette said quietly, bowing her head slightly to level her gaze with her friend’s. “I feel like we have not spent time in forever, and that is my fault. I am glad you trusted me enough to let me see what has captivated your attention so all this time.” Rissa squeezed Josette’s hand back. “I am glad you were here.” Josette beamed and pulled her friend in for an embrace. “I am certain your studies will go well, you are the smartest person I know when it comes to these... mathematical… things.” When Rissa squirmed within her arms, Josette rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she waved vaguely with one hand. “These things have names. They are intricate configurations and--” Rissa began to protest, although her words were laced with mirth. “Things!” Josette exclaimed as she reached around her friend, her fingers wiggling into spaces she knew Rissa to be ticklish. Soon the two figures fell over onto the floor in a heap and sounds of squeals and giggles filled the hollowed halls. Now. Josette Reeves stared into the air, as equations from the parchment seemed to leap off the page and take flight. But the letters and the numbers would unravel like a ball of yarn undone, into a long thin serpent as it swam through the air, spinning into new shapes. It would form a circle that then grew into a sphere, cut in half by a triangle that then expanded into a pyramid. Then it would all unravel again to spell out a new modified calculation from before. All the while, her gloved hand continued to write upon the pages of the thick tome on the desk in front of her. “Is the rack ready for a new subject?” she said without turning around. Aurelieaux, a Duskwight alchemist from Ul’dah and her newest assistant appointed by the Marquis, sounded nonplussed. “Have you come up with a new formula already?” He stiffened when she paused in her work to turn around and face him. “I may have not been precise enough in my calculations of an Elezen’s blood volume. There are small variables I had not accounted for.” She noted the empty bucket next to the Duskwight’s booted feet. The large laboratory apron that covered most of his torso was covered with crimson stains. “I will correct for these variables with the next batch of heretics.” The Elezen gave a long sigh in response, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his wrist. “But must the rack be pristinely cleaned after each subject? Bloodstains are not the easiest things to eliminate. Surely, the heretics need not the cleanest--” “I will not permit any other variables to exist.” Josette cut him off sharply. “The Dravanian influence is thought to run through their veins. No other blood--not even miniscule amounts--can be allowed to affect the experiment. You know what is at stake.” “Of course, Miss Reeves.” Aurelieaux straightened, his voice sobering. He dipped his head in acquiescence and picked up the bucket again, the coarse brush and bottle of terebinth rattling within. “I have not forgotten the purpose for which I was brought here to assist you. I shan’t object any further.” He nodded firmly. “Nothing must stand in the way of finding a cure to the Dravanian curse.” Josette said nothing as she watched him round the corner, disappearing from her sight. Her gaze began to grow distant as the ghost of a memory came to her unbidden. “Do you know what I ask? Do you know what is at stake?” “I would do anything for you. Tell me.” She spun back around, her expression blank once more as she turned her attention back to her notes. But there was a smallest furrow to her brow.

Your sketches are lovely! I doubt you will ever get this far down the list but if you do... I will add my character too!

Don't forget to check out the Roleplay Events here in the RPC boards for public RP events you can attend!

I am just going to pile on with everyone else here and tell you that I really liked the picture of Rae you drew for me. It was so lovely. Do not let other people's criticisms be the only and loudest thing you remember. Just look at your commissions list to remind yourself that your art is liked! And I know there are plenty of arguments out there about who should charge what... art is all subjective! You charge what you think is fair and don't listen to others. But first and foremost, take care of yourself first, then everything else.

“I want you to be happy, Marcus.” Happiness. What was it? Happiness: an elusive ghost of an idea that pitted everyone’s lives, leaving a void that all felt compelled to fill. The emptiness that existed in its absence was like a distant wail that nagged at the edge of one’s thoughts, oft leading one down a dark alley to despair. Some hunted for it with ambitious precision, desperate in their hope that things like wealth, power, or love would bring them this abstract trophy. It was a lie, like a mirage in the desert. Some might swear to have seen it, hovering just out of their reach. But it was envy that distorted their vision; they would see it upon others like an invisible aura, like the waves of heat burning off the sand. Jameson Taeros could never recall ever feeling truly happy. There was always somewhere else he wanted to be, some other trouble that loomed on the horizon, or some other person that was standing in his way. He had always looked to those shadows of uncertainty and marked them in his mind. They were just obstacles to be eliminated or conquered. He had always prided himself in identifying his place in the world and learning about others, so that he could do what was needed to elevate himself. He enjoyed this game, and even the smallest victories he acquired along the way eventually amassed into what he considered was his peak of wealth and power. So how did it all fall apart? “You have run out,” a sultry voice nudged Jameson from his reverie. A dark-skinned Elezen clothed in nothing but a small strip of silk wrapped around her hips leaned across his leg and sprinkled a pinch of herbs into the small metal flask next to him. Only then did the Midlander notice that the tendrils of heavily scented smoke had given way to withering fibers and he could feel the edges of his senses sharpening again. But once the dried roots were dropped into the ornate vase, a quiet hiss of the burning plant heralded a new fountain of smoky serpents as they began to spill back out into the tented room. “Are you hurting…?” The woman laid her hands upon his bare chest, pressing her breasts against him. “I can replace the noise. This will flush out your head.” Jameson barely heard her gravelly whisper. He tilted his head backwards against the pillows, just as the Duskwight leaned in for his lips. The female only smirked at the subtle rebuff, then proceeded to greet the underside of his chin with her tongue, slowly working downward toward his chest. The smoke began to cloud the air around them, unable to dissipate under the canopy of silks that hung low from the ceiling. The flickering light of a candelabra was further dimmed by the thick air, although it provided just enough illumination to outline the naked curves of the woman on top of him. But the once-renowned Monetarist of Ul’dah paid no mind to his surroundings nor the rousing sensation that rose from the rest of his body. Only the intoxicating scent of burning milk root pushed at his consciousness, sending this thoughts plunging back into the pool of memories and reflection. Lazarov. Deneith. Melkire. Those were the names that ruined him. After the years he had spent carefully navigating through the Ul’dahn maze of schemes and lies, somehow he had let a pirate, an ex-Sultansworn, and an ex-Flame undo all that he had worked for. It was because of her. Jameson wanted to lay the blame on someone else. The thought that he had underestimated Lazarov’s expansive influence upon the seas, Deneith’s willingness to recruit spies and civilians against him, and the Flame’s readiness to commit murder without even a trial… they had all caught him unprepared. He had lost focus. It was likely his paranoia, but it seemed the Jewel wanted to collect all the heat of the Thanalan sun and focus it right upon him. Someone had dared to try and stand up to the Monetarists’ power and it was put upon him to eliminate the threat. At the time, he had welcomed the opportunity: finally a stage upon which he could shine! In retrospect, he should have sent assassins earlier. There were other methods, crueler and dirtier means to accomplish what had to be done. But Jameson thought himself too clever. He had gone the slower, more methodical route. He decided upon a defensive strategy, a lawful one no less, relying upon the Ul’dahn law enforcement to apprehend the outlaws that were threatening Monetarist shipments. The Sworns did not deliver. And the Flames were just employed thugs for Raubahn. Even now those mistakes pained him. But was it his lapse in judgement that soured his pride... or the possibility that he had stayed on that course for the sake of a mere woman? “I want you to be happy, Marcus. You deserve more than a woman who cannot return your affections.” He could recall Melia’s face, the tears running down her cheeks. Her beautiful, sad eyes were framed by her auburn curls as she broke his heart and wedded another man. After Melia, Jameson had sworn never again. Never again would he risk humiliation and failure for the sake of a woman. And yet, he carried her picture close to his heart, hidden within a golden pendant even after all those years, did he not? Was he one of those sentimental fools he so despised all along? "You have given me all I could ever want. I merely wish to meet with your approval." The memories of another woman’s voice and the vision of another set of auburn locks returned to him yet again. The scent of the desert that lingered in her hair seemed to be woven into the smoke somehow, and he could imagine the green eyes that always regarded him carefully from beneath those long lashes. He believed that Coatleque Crofte was a kindred spirit: a creature who had clawed herself out of a pit of misfortune with her eyes directed upwards at greatness. Someone who was made of ambition and grit as he was. It must have taken such perseverance to rise so high from a broken past that was hers. Why didn’t she want more? As he did? She was nothing like me. He remembered his deep disappointment when she admitted that she held no further ambition, that she herself was amazed to have gained such authority. A highly ranked Sultansworn serving the Sultana, answering to Jenlyns himself, Coatleque seemed befuddled as to how she had stumbled upon such a position of power. All the things that drew him to her at the start, had proven false. And yet… She loved me. Jameson hissed as he felt the bite of incisors upon his skin. He took a handful of hair and pulled the Duskwight off of him. Her teeth gleamed white as a hungry smile split the Elezen’s dark face. That look of lust in her eyes, it was one he knew well. He had seen it in so many others, for it was an easy thing to manipulate. And yet, he had no inclination to take part in such a diversion now. “If you like it violent,” the woman purred as she clawed her way up his chest, her nails drawing red lines upon his flesh. “We can play rough and tumble.” The Midlander simply sneered at her. “Just why are you here, lordling?” she barked back impatiently. When he did not answer, she snorted and rolled off of him, grabbing for a thin wooden pipe, taking a deep draw of it. As she exhaled the scented fumes again, her vexation melted off her face. Jameson could still feel the thin rows of welts where her nails had raked against his torso. The Duskwight had not been the only woman to mark him so. I could have come to love her, he tried to convince himself, his eyes fluttering closed. The vision of auburn locks washed away like ocean waves, leaving behind a field of golden hair, one that he had pulled free from their prison of tight braids. He could recall the softness of her bared shoulders, the prominence of her collarbone, and the fullness of her breasts. And yet, there was no stirring of lust within him. “Pity is the death of desire.” In the moons that they had slept beneath the same roof, Edda Eglantine had seen him brought low, trembling upon his knees. The pains of withdrawals from whatever cursed alchemical toxins Banurein had pumped him full of had robbed him of his precious control through many nights. And Edda had discovered him on one such an occasion despite his efforts. He hated showing such weakness in front of anyone, much less one he was engaged to marry. But then that exasperating enigma of a woman would show glimpses of wisdom and strength where he had expected none. "I do not pity you. I do not pity myself. Pity is for those who do not fight." The marriage to the Eglantine was only the first step to his return. After losing everything in Ul’dah, he had come to Ishgard to start anew, empowered by his engagement and invigorated by fresh opportunities. He was ready to play the game again, he was ready to regain what was lost. It was in his blood. “Favor for favor.” Why had he not sent Coatleque away when she found him again? She would have only dragged him down, like links of chains wrapped around his ankles as he tried to swim to shore. Why had he not cut himself free of the woman? He needed to only say the right words. Even when he had returned from presumed death, and revealed his secret engagement to another, the damned Sultansworn refused to leave his side. He told her that he was engaged. He told he intended to make his marriage work for Edda's sake. And yet, he did not send her away. It was then that Jameson rose and grabbed the Duskwight by the shoulders, throwing her down against the pile of pillows. The woman’s smile gleamed with impatience and she arched her back in anticipation. But it was not the view of the woman’s naked form that fed the fire that now burned in his chest. He leaned in, his body knew the motions; but it was another place, and another woman that he saw before his eyes. Was the tease the game or the consequence? Was it worth the fall? He always loved taking risks, playing both sides. He had never wanted to make Coatleque a mistress, and yet the thought of her by his side, it pleased him. Perhaps his past was the weakness. He remembered enjoying the day they had spent in Fallguard. There was an air of comfort, warmth, and familiarity that brought back memories of their time together in the desert city. Flimsy things they were, he thought them unimportant to him, and yet they returned to him all the same to pull at his emotions. “When I first came to you that night at the Bismark. It was not for distraction.” Then she shattered it all to pieces with her confession. All those nights, all those talks, all the secrets they had shared, the violence, the laughter, the intimacy… they were all a lie. She did it to help his enemies break him. He did not think. His past had been war. His reflex had been sharpened by conflict and ambition. And he had learned, painfully so, how he would pay for indecision born of empathy. Never again. There was much blood upon her naked pale flesh, flowing freely from the deep cut upon her neck. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, and even as they began to lose their color, she stared to him. What else could he have done? She had betrayed him. The one woman he thought he could trust above all others, the first woman to whom he had confided in about his past, his insecurities, his plans for the future. They had even spoken of children... What else could I have done? It was with a guttural gasp that Jameson stumbled back, falling ungracefully backwards onto the floor. The Duskwight had been writhing beneath him, but he had been deaf to her moans and cries. His chest rose and fell with desperate breaths like a fish out of water, and his amber eyes stared in disbelief at the naked woman in front of him. There was no blood that soaked the silks around her. The Elezen propped herself upon her elbows and gave him a perturbed look. “Perhaps you have had too much of the milk root, lordling.” “Get out,” he growled. “But we were just getting to the--” “Get out!” he screamed, hurling the metal vase at the Duskwight. She bolted to her feet, cursing at him loudly in a tongue he did not bother to try and recognize. She snatched up the scattered pieces of clothing and left the room in a hurry. For a long moment, no sound rose to the silk draped ceiling except heavy, stuttered breaths. But when the distant peal of the morning's second bell faded to an echo, the quiet muffled sounds of his weeping filled the heavy silence.

I agree with what people have said above! I too am on the side that if you are RPing in public in /say, then 99% of the time it's okay to approach them ICly if it seems appropriate to do so. I say "appropriate to do so" because if say people are having what looks like a very personal or emotional argument (who knows, it could have evolved into such a talk and they happened to be in public) then I would feel awkward inserting myself into such a scene since that is how I would feel in real life. Although that may or may not apply to say a conflict that breaks out in public. It's tricky if you have a character who ICly would try and break up a fight before people get hurt, and yet you are not sure if people who are running the scene want some random person getting involved. I would probably shoot off an OOC tell just in case? Although I have jumped in before into a stand off before without an OOC exchange, and all the parties involved just rolled with it and it turned out well. So I guess it depends on case by case scenario.

“Be careful! That is an authentic replica of a Behemoth’s head!” One of the two Elezens standing on either side of the beastly wall mount gave a dubious look at the richly dressed Midlander who was directing them. “If it is a replica, then how is it authentic?” the Wildwood asked as he paused with a grunt, resting his shoulder against the wall for support. Reese Templeton stared back at him, his hands held frozen in mid-air, palms toward the two Elezen laborers. The Hyur was standing in front of his desk to supervise, while the two Wildwoods stood on step ladders set against the opposing wall. The velvet-cushioned chairs were pushed out of the way while a thick bear rug lay across the well polished floor. The daylight had already begun to recede from the windows, but the hearth crackled with a warm fire that chased away the night’s chill. Reese minded all these details as he continued to watch the two hirelings arrange his new furnitures, although one eye was now squinted in thought. He lowered a hand to rub at his chin and his well trimmed beard. “I suppose you have a point, good man. It was rendered by an artist who worked with a hunter that swore that this was an almost lifelike representation…” When the Wildwood gave him a wry expression in turn, Reese just shrugged it off with a good-natured grin. “It looked frightening enough to send a child running back to his mother in tears, so it was good enough for me!” The Midlander sighed in relief when the two returned to their task of securing the heavy sculpture. It was true, he had no proof that this thing he purchased on the streets of Jeweled Crozier was as authentic as the merchant proclaimed, yet he bought it anyway, since she then took his card readily and repeated his name twice to commit to memory. In his mind, the more denizens of Ishgard that knew his name the better. He also hoped that mounting such a thing--as boorish as it was--in his new office in The Pillars, would impress some of his new clients. Being a newly opened business owned by outsiders, even a well-known company like Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprise could use all the help they can get in building a reputation in this city. And what better to do that with than a trophy of an infamous beast that prowls the Coerthas mountain side? As the enormous bust was hooked onto its final nail and the wall almost quivered with its full weight, Reese leaned back against the edge of his desk to admire the view. But rather than being obviously overcome with pride, the Midlander watched as the flickering light from the candelabra behind him gave life to the shadows upon the horns, the eyes, and the teeth of the demon. “You are looking a bit pale, Mister Templeton. Does it look alright?” One of the Elezens stepped away from the wall, curiously studying his employer. “Yes, yes. I am quite alright.” Reese withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket to lightly dab over his brows. Surely, it will look better in the morning. As long as it helps to reassure our clients that we take pride in all things Ishgard… He could already imagine the scowl of disapproval upon the face of his partner, Jeulerand, and mentally listed the reasons why this purchase was absolutely necessary. But he also found himself making a conscious effort to ignore the lengthening of the silhouette that grew from the horns of Behemoth. Or perhaps I will take it down tomorrow. Reese pushed himself off the desk, his boots shuffling lightly over the soft rug that lay beneath his feet. At least, this purchase was a must! He quickly turned his thoughts around to congratulated himself. The floor decor said wealth, warmth, and welcome all in one package. He believed that all noble homes in this cold city must have it, and if they did, then so should he. “Anything else, Mister Templeton?” The two Wildwood laborers looked to him once they were done replacing the chairs back beneath the wall mount. “No, that will be all.” Reese shooed them out, carefully eyeing that they did not leave any dirt on the plush couch that faced his desk or the thick oaken bookcases that adorned two opposite sides of his office. The Midlander leaned against the door once the movers had left, eyeing his new property. He smiled at the receptionist counter that immediately greeted his view from the entrance, and imagined a proper Elezen sitting there, welcoming his potential clients. A bottle of wine on one side perhaps, he thought. What better way to immediately relax them and warm them from the cold? Perhaps a vase with flowers. Or maybe a statue of Halone? Would a religious symbol sway potential new patrons? But before he could let his imagination run wild with the possibilities, a quiet knock broke him from his reverie. “I tipped you handsomely already--” Reese protested, annoyed, as he swung open the door, only to find that it was not his movers but a younger Elezen youth. The youth was dressed in well tailored coat and pants, and although his garb did not say ‘nobility’, he was certainly employed by a well-to-do house. A squire perhaps? Such was the attention that Reese gave without thought, always assessing any new company. “Well, what can I do for you, lad?” he asked politely. “Pardon the interruption, Mister Templeton,” the young Elezen bowed at the waist. “I was told to deliver this to you, courtesy of Lord Jeaumis. It is to congratulate you on your new abode and office.” He extended both hands, offering of a wrapped box. “It is a tea set,” the youth said even before Reese had a chance to open it. Setting the box on the receptionist counter, Reese bestowed upon the boy a generous smile. “Tell Lord Jeaumis that he is most kind and generous to remember his friend!” The Hyur did his best to hide his astonishment that the Elezen noble was thoughtful enough to remember him, and to deliver such a tiding on the first sun that he had gained access to his new office. But that is Launce after all, generous to a fault, Reese mused. The Elezen noble with distant ties to the House Durendaire, was the only true friend and acquaintance that Reese had when he first came to Ishgard with nothing but hopes and ambitions. Since then, due to the generosity of his friend, he had obtained lodging at one of the deluxe Pilllars apartments and been introduced to a few notable persons within the city. The Hyur smiled suddenly at the prospect of making good on his first business arrangement with Lady Dufresne, and reminded himself to comb through the trade route arrangements that he had been working on since. When the Elezen youth reminded him of his presence with a quiet clearing of his throat, Reese blinked and patted his pockets. “Ah. Well, let me get you something for your troubles lad…” The courier arched both brows then shook his head. “No need, Mister Templeton. I am well provided for by my lord. I was just wondering if there was anything else you needed before I go.” Reese humphed through his nose, impressed that an extra padding of a wanted hand was not what was expected. Does Launce treat his servants that fairly? “That will be all. Thank you.” When the boy left after another polite bow, the Hyur clicked his door closed with gusto. He had a good feeling about this. “I will show Jeulerand that my bid to open an office here was not a mistake,” the Hyur said with a flare toward the empty receptionist chair. “He thinks of me as a lesser partner. He will eat his words when my clientele list balloons in this city.” The Midlander minded not the political tension that hung like a heavy cloud over the entire city. Surely there were needs of services that an Arbitration Enterprise like his could provide in such changing times. Reese rubbed his hands in anticipation. “After all, these Ishgardian nobles cannot be as bad as dealing with Shroud elementals." His smile was ever hopeful. "Let’s see what this city has to offer!”

A silver-grey canopy of clouds had gradually enveloped the sky in an oppressive gloom as the trio lingered at the base of the hillside. Khadai's gathered provisions were now fully piled onto the saddlebags of the black chocobo who, to the Au Ra's apparent consternation, began warbling and shivering with agitation at the new load. But despite the apparent struggles between Khadai and his temperamental destrier mount, they seemed to have gotten at least a little more familiar with each other since Roen had seen them last. Perhaps he is growing on Karadwyr too, the paladin mused. Looking around the base of the hill, she also could not help but be impressed at how well Khadai had learned to navigate within the snowy hills of Coerthas. He apparently had hid his stash of supplies in an unmarked area and returned to it without trouble. Roen wanted to believe that the maps and the compass she had gifted him many moons ago had aided him in learning the landscape. A quiet warble from Goldwind brought the paladin’s attention back toward the skies. The anxious trill in the back in her bird’s throat echoed the worry that was starting to crease her brows, as the sun that had promised them fair travel was threatening to make its retreat. Beyond the western mountain peaks, Roen could make out a distant gathering of darker, more ominous clouds. While Goldwind was a sturdily-built rouncey--a breed able to withstand some harsh conditions--he had grown accustomed to the warmer and drier climes of Thanalan, and made his dislike of the blizzards here well known to the paladin. She lightly stroked the feathers on Goldwind’s forehead just above the beak to soothe the bird. “It depends on what condition we find them in and how,” Roen answered Khadai even as she still continued to study the skies. “If they are in need of further assistance and aid, then we should stay and make certain they will be able to wait for the rescue.” The paladin glanced between Captain Mirke and the Au Ra. “We were hired to guide the captain back to her crew. It would do her no good if we just left them to fend for themselves thereafter.” The Miqo’te captain’s inexperience under these conditions, along with her lack of knowledge regarding the lay of the land, had been made obvious. Roen was not simply going to trust that getting her to the intended destination would be the end of their job. At least, not until she was certain her and her crew could secure a safe shelter to wait for the rescue to arrive. A ship's captain and her crew… Roen had only known one other such group of seamen. Were Mirke's men as tight-knit a group who trusted each other as those on the Second Forte? The question made her pause, though she did not quite know if she welcomed the stirring she felt within. “How many are in your crew?” the paladin asked the Miqo’te, clearing her throat. She could already see the faces that were on the Second Forte in her mind’s eye, and while she only really knew Garalt and Daegsatz, she had at least become familiar with many of the faces there, from young to old. She marveled at how quickly those memories returned to her unbidden, especially in the middle of this frozen wasteland. Roen shook her head deliberately, as if to chase away annoying gnats of memory from her thoughts. “That is… if all of the scouts returned to the ship safely and none were lost?” She hoped the other two did not hear the forced calm in her voice that seemed obvious to her own ears.

I have not posted screenshots in awhile... so I have a few! "I care not if you see me innocent or not. But you did come to me unheeded and offered aid the first time we met. Consider this an equivalent exchange." Delial's lips drew into a thin line. "You have put so much faith in me. You both. The others." She chuckled out a hollow sound and took a shaky breath and only then did she look down at Roen. Just for a moment. "I am trying. I know not what more I can say. It is... a devastating thing. To fail your... to fail. I cannot do it again." "Why do you call me Little Wolf?" "That one is too weak to do so, and this one calls the Little Wolf as such because that is who she is." "You will find I am no longer little." "Perhaps Lady Milburga will come with me? At least to the border. She can tell me what she knows of my past." "I will go anywhere with you." Roen turned as if to leave, but stopped herself. Her hand slid down to her side to the belt pouch that hung there. She reached into it, and withdrew a round object wrapped in a thin parchment and tied with a red ribbon on top. She jutted out her hand, nearly jabbing it into his midsection. "Here," she muttered under her breath. "This is for you." Khadai did not reach out a hand to accept it, only staring at it as her hand was punched against his abdomen. "What is this?" "It is a..." There was a frown that could be heard in her voice, although her head was slightly dipped, and her gaze was fixated on her hand that was now awkwardly held against his stomach. "...a gift. Just take it."

According to a recent reddit post, the powerbank is not eligible even though it is said to be. I bought a powerbank and got my code within the hour via email.