Roen

Clearly, now we know Franz's type.

I hear Morn crying somewhere...

1) Someone looks to be in dire need of help. It has to be a dire need, Roen is currently trying to break her old habit of rushing in to help people. But if she comes across someone who seems to be in imminent danger, or unfairly and unjustly matched against someone bigger, stronger, and badder, well... likely she will be compelled to step in to do something. A part of her can't help it. 2) She was ordered to do so by her superior. She is currently working under an Ishgardian knight who has accepted some sellswords into their ranks, so as long as she is committed to that duty, she will follow the orders she is given. 3) A child in need of well, anything. Another old habit she can't let go of. She still has a soft spot for children. She will come to their aid. No matter what. 4) Chocobos. Roen has a soft spot for these feathered mounts. She enjoys riding and will take note of fine birds and riders who seem pretty skilled. 5) If she thinks the stranger knows someone that she knows. Roen has been away from people she knew and called friends for awhile now. And she has been hesitant to seek them out. But she still is curious about their well-being and may eavesdrop or even outright ask if she thinks a stranger knows someone she knows.

“It is a very small encampment, southwest of here. Its borders are fortified by wooden stakes.” Roen climbed onto the front of the wagon. She stood and pointed in the general direction, even though the Convictory was nowhere in sight. She glanced back at Khadai who had the higher vantage point, although she knew it was too far to be seen. Or at least she thought so. But then again, perhaps the Au Ra had much keener eyesight than she had given them credit for. She learned that the horns on their head served a similar function to normal ears, so perhaps they also had other unique physiology. She had watched the Xaela warrior’s fighting style, even sparring with him, and gained some insight into his physical prowess. He was quick, athletic, and well trained; his dexterity was not found lacking. He used his size to the best of his advantage, although she had fought against larger opponents to know how to compensate for her own shorter stature. Watching him nimbly make his way to the rooftop, the paladin found herself pondering on what else she was ignorant of when it came to the Au Ra. Garlemald was all about subjugation after all, rather than learning the fine details that made each race and culture unique. But Roen had always shared in her mother’s curiosity for such things, and it was with that inquisitiveness that she studied the Xaela warrior that was scanning the landscape. Khadai was taller than most people that Roen knew; his frame was similar to that of an Elezen but perhaps a bit more sinewy. She knew not how his tail helped him in his balance, she guessed it was similar to Miqo'te in that. Compared to the males, the females seemed much more petite in height and frame, that is if that one body that they had come across in Coerthas was any indication. It could explain why his tribe discouraged smaller female members from taking up arms. Roen understood the logic of it, even if she did not agree with the philosophy. “It is… endearing,” Khadai had said to her after their spar, comparing their sizes. It was an observation that had caught her off guard. Roen wondered for a brief moment if the warrior had left someone behind. Was there family? Loved ones? A person he longed to return to? Of course, she told herself. That must be at least one of the reasons why she spied a forlorn expression crossing his features in those rare hidden moments. She had assumed at first that he and his people shared very little sentimentality. But now she was beginning to suspect that perhaps it was just not open and shown readily. It was a practice she had come to know well in the last many moons. “The trek takes no more than a few bells,” she called out, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. “The maps show the rough terrain and the landmarks that can be pointed out as we go. You can show me what knowledge your surveillances have gathered.”

Roen's too busy trying to stay afloat to be consciously thankful. But despite all the horrible things that has happened this year, she still has a lot of things to be thankful for. A brother who loves her. A friend whom she has known for almost two years now, who comes back into her life whenever the times are dire. They have a quiet understanding between them that never wavers. New friends she has made in the last few months who have given her a sense of purpose and a glimpse of who she used to be. An old enemy who is now a trusted ally, who she has come to trust with lives of those she considers most precious. An ally turned friend and confidant. Friendships she has found in the most unlikely places. And old friends who were never forgotten, whose loyalties never faded. Roen would be thankful for all these things if she just cleared her head for a bit.

Updated for wiki, linkshells, alts and such.

Congratulations, Alothia!~ Your baby looks absolutely adorable. Sending good thoughts your way since now this little guy will rule your life!

Indeed! More Roes are needed in Eorzea! Welcome to the RPC and FFXIV in general! Your character seems like a new budding adventurer with a positive outlook to boot! It would be great to see him meet more people and grow as a person as he faces various trials in Eorzea. Have fun out there!

I am not sure what "cut short" means... But if it was a prearranged scene and people had to go to bed or RL stuff took over, then "To Be Continued" is also acceptable, if all parties are agreeable to that. If continuing the scene in the very near future is not viable, then coming to some agreement OOC behind the scenes would be best in my opinion so everyone who was there has a similiar accounts of how it ended. I try to reserve retcon as my last resort, but it is still a choice that can be made. But like Warren said, it does come down to the specifics of the situation.

Roen heaved the harness onto the back of the brown colored chocobo, fastening the buckles and running her fingers between the leather straps and the feathers to check the fitting. She gave the bird a small scratch behind the tuft of its cheek feathers to sooth it, and was rewarded with a pleased kweh. The bird in the next stall answered with another cheerful trill; both birds seemed restless and eager for some activity after hiding out from the blizzard for bells. That quiet warble turned to a spritely chirp upon Khadai’s return, either in greeting or fear she could not tell. Roen nearly chuckled aloud though when she saw his almost-usual pensive look, which was followed by his immediate cessation of it. The towering form of the Xaela did not seem quite so intimidating when caught in such moments. She managed to hide her amusement with a lopsided purse of her lips. “The supplies on the wagon outside are to be delivered to the Convictory,” the paladin replied as she began to lead the chocobos by the reins outside of the stall and through the double doors. The birds fanned their wings and craned their necks as they were both greeted by the cold, and Roen sighed quietly in relief to see that the tarp that was secured over the wagon and its contents had held through the blizzard. She began to hitch the birds to the caravan, speaking to warrior without looking his way. “You need not accompany me if you have other pressing matters, Khadai.” She pulled on the metal hinges to test it, her breaths coming in puffs of white steam as she did so. “I know… you sensed… your objective. You need not delay your search for it on my account.” She walked around the caravan to look over the condition of the wheels. She glanced back to the Xaela from the other side. “Although after this delivery, I am not expected back in the city proper for another sun or two.” Roen took the reins in her hand, but paused before climbing onto the wagon. Even as the cold was already starting to bring a rosy hue to her cheeks, her mood remained placid. “Perhaps we can work together to try and figure out what the next step may be for you.”

“If you are inclined to lend your aid,” Roen gave Khadai a nod, her expression relaxing. “It would be appreciated.” The paladin donned her gauntlets and swung her shield over her shoulder, following Khadai’s example in checking her armor. Her own movements were rather business-like as well, but she found her spirit to have lifted from before the storm. She gave the Xaela warrior a sidelong glance as she clasped her sword on her belt; he too seemed to have lost his unease. The sightings of the rare smiles that grew on his visage usually took her by surprise, although it always seemed to give her a measure of comfort as well. Had she found a purpose beyond helping Khadai? It seemed such a simple goal, at least in concept, even though he already confessed that he knew not where to even start looking for this object he was after. He also had no idea as to what it was. But at least from his demonstration earlier, Roen could see that there was a link between him and this thing that allowed him to sense it. Or know its presence. Even if he could not discern where or how far. The edges of her mind also tugged at her thoughts with other worries. One of her brother. The Au Ra killed at the stake. Edda and her engagement to Taeros. The Brume. Mister North. Crofte. Delial. Kage. Roen paused, taking a deep breath in and exhaling. One thing at a time, she told herself. She was just starting to try and find her path again, and to feel so many things pulling at her all at once, she could feel a part of her turning rigid with apprehension. It was easy to want to fall back into her usual habits, to try and shut out all the troublesome thoughts from her mind by diving into series of onerous tasks. “Find the familiar, and you may find determination to see the next sun.” Roen gathered the maps strewn about the table and tucked it away in her satchel, hooking it over her shoulder. The familiar. What was it? Perhaps she would discover her own familiar thing in time. She gave Khadai one more glance, then tilted her head toward the stairs. “You have been surveying the land for many suns. I can show you some of the landmarks on the map, and you can show me how you have come to know the landscape without them.” She gave him an arch of the brow that hinted at a challenge, then headed up to the ground floor.

She closed her fingers when he pulled his hand away, bringing it back to rest upon her lap. He had withdrawn, and his severe, distant demeanor had returned. Roen remained where she sat for a moment longer, her gaze going to her hands. Heavy oppressive silence fell between them and the middle ground was no more. “Our ways of coming to an understanding with each other, here in this land, it is clumsy.” The paladin finally broke the silence with that quiet murmur; she was no longer looking at him, her head bowed. “It is not like your people, where we can connect on a more intimate level and no words are needed.” “To allow for such a thing… it takes a great deal of trust. And that is something that we all struggle with here. Because we lack such a bond with each other. Sometimes it is like a dance of words between people.” A wry snort escaped her nose. “And some of us are still… very much preoccupied with pride, avarice, and self-interest.” She paused for a moment. “And some of us… do not tell the truth in our hearts until it is much too late.” “So I understand your reluctance to share. To trust.” She inhaled and splayed her fingers over the chainmail that covered her legs. Her voice was kept low throughout her quiet confession. “Sometimes… I too cannot find the words to convey what I feel. And to even try seems like a daunting task. Almost… painful in certain occasions.” She closed her hands again. “But that does not mean that kinship and faith does not exist amongst my people. I had rejected it for some time now, believing it was what I needed to do. But... even now I am trying to regain what was lost.” Roen glanced up at the ceiling as well, noting that her hushed tones were carrying further in their silence. The blizzard was calming, and the howling winds were no more. She inhaled deeply, her expression taking a resigned and wistful turn. “I once said that for a foreigner, your beliefs were not so strange.” She returned her gaze to the Xaela warrior. “I also said that you were not alone in this land for those beliefs.” She rose from her seat, her armor quietly protesting with a few metallic clinks as she did so. “I will aid you however way I can, Khadai. Because I want to.” She curled a small reassuring smile again even though her voice remained subdued. She looked up to the ceiling as the creaking of the wooden beams had come to a cease. “It seems the storm may be coming to an end. Perhaps you can be released from this discourse.”

[[This post follows these events here]] Many months ago... Brynn. I have become a target for an unknown assassin, their patron unknown. Some days ago, I was ambushed in Thanalan and nearly killed once more. It has become clear that as long as I remain in Ul’dah… I, and those I keep close, will be under constant threat. Whoever is behind this, whatever the reason may be, I cannot allow my failings to bring harm upon you. If my only means of protecting you is keep you safe from the demons I have brought upon myself, then I must accept my duty. Please allow me a final redundancy. Take care of yourself. Thank you for everything. -G.N. Brynnalia had to read the letter twice. To say that she found the contents of the missive unexpected was a gross understatement. Of all the men she had known in the past, she could count Gideon North to be one of the most unflappable person she’d known. That was why she often enjoyed teasing him so, her flirtations always daring him to answer her in kind. So for him to suddenly announce his departure in such a way, Brynn had to believe that the valet had deemed the situation grim and saw no other recourse than to run. To drop everything and flee. As if nothing else mattered. ….Or mayhap because it did matter. Foolish man of a butler. Obviously she couldn’t let that stand. Brynnalia never did understand the whole attraction of martyrdom. Too many people seemed so willing to take all the troubles upon themselves and expect others to be just fine with it. Didn’t Gideon not hear one word of the message she was trying to entice him with all this time? To be selfish, to seek pleasures and happiness for oneself, to dare to reach for the forbidden treasures… had he not considered any of it? Her first stop was Drybone. She had received word that he had been treated at the infirmary there after he was attacked for the second time. The man attracts trouble like honey attracts bears. Brynn would never know it just by looking at him. Quiet, reserved, and polite to a fault, none would think him burdened with a troubled past. But he had told her of his murdered former masters and his burning hatred for those responsible. And now with Taeros also having met an uncertain end, the valet was once again without employment. And for a second time in almost as many moons, an attempt was made on Gideon’s life as well. Someone was either looking to specifically end North’s life or lives of those connected closely to her former employer. Considering the deaths of the other three Monetarist nobles, Brynn was guessing the latter. Either way, Brynnalia was not going to let that mystery go unsolved and let North disappear into the wind. The valet was easy enough to track. Even though he had left Drybone without a word of his destination, she found a guard at Highbridge that described a man passing through, dressed in a suit beneath a plain cloak. What he was best remembered for however, was how well he had cleaned the guard’s armor, and the lunch he had shared--a very tasty pair of finger sandwiches. Brynnalia followed the road east, to find sisters near Thal’s Respite who recalled a polite and well-spoken man that cleaned their cabin for a night of lodging and cooked a delicious meal for them before moving on. They recalled a unique spice of mun-tuy that he had added to the dish. At least that gave the bard an idea of where his destination might be. It was indeed at the Mun-Tuy Cellars in South Shroud where she found him bent over crushing beans, tamping and grinding them with a mortar. Wilhelm, his faithful dodo fledgling companion, pattered about aimlessly, pecking at random bags of beans. Gideon did not seem to notice her when she approached. “Wilhelm,” the bard called out to the bird, clucking her tongue. The fledgling waddled toward her, and as she gave its head a scratch, she marveled at how the bird had grown since she had given North that egg as an apology gift after the Starlight card game. “Geoffery, start the churner.” Gideon quietly instructed the other hyur in the room, sending him away. “I think we’ll need a bit of a warm-up.” He then slowly rose as the young man left the room. “I could trace yer trail o’ meals and cleaned armor all the way from Drybone.” Brynn ascended the stairs to the platform where he stood. “And what do you intend to do now?” The valet kept his head bowed, his cowl hanging low over his eyes. “Do I have tae have a plan?” She canted her head, trying to regard the man beneath the hood. “I just wanted tae talk tae ye.” “Even that may be dangerous, Mistress.” He kept his gaze low, his eyes focused on her chin rather than her eyes. Still, Brynnalia took a measure of his face. “Halone’s frozen ass… did ye get yerself looked at?” She stepped closer to him, drawing the hood away from his face as she began to spy the bruises. His face bore more scars when the cover was lifted, and his left eye had a healing wound across it; his iris was slightly opaque. “Ye never mentioned how bad ye were hurt…” she murmured. "The infirmary's staff were well-equipped for their job, and I saw to myself with what arcana I could muster when I left their care. Acceptable damages. I have been dealing with them.” His tone remained placid. Brynn let out a sigh, softening her voice as to hide the misgivings in them. “And what do ye plan tae do now?” “I intend to remain at a safe distance, and make myself useful to those who give me sanctuary.” His eyes flitted to the fledgling who was now pecking at his feet. “Wilhelm. Bed.” The valet clicked his tongue and the fledgling waddled into the other room. The bard half watched the bird’s exit with a patient exhale. “Ye did hear of the other nobles. Our employer’s acquaintances? They too were killed. Someone was cuttin’ off Taeros’ ties with wealth and repute... and mayhaps the attack upon ye was a part o’ that.” “A possibility, Miss.” The valet still did not meet her gaze. “There suddenly be a lot o’ violence goin’ on Ul’dah and it be sweepin’ everyone up along with it.” She crossed her arms. “Ye not goin’ tae take the responsibility fer all o’ that now are ye?” "As long as I cannot confirm the source of my assault, Miss, the possibility remains that I am a liability to my southern associates." He paused as he finally looked at her, expression flat and wry. “This includes you. I would sooner see your face remain unmarred." Brynn snorted. “Well, I not be some helpless damsel in distress who gets no say in the matter.” “I am sure, but…” “And ye runnin’ away only leaves me with a mystery I can’t solve. I’ve come across some people and facts and I need tae puzzle these pieces together.” “I see,” Gideon pondered quietly. “Is that what Miss has come in pursuit of?” Brynn shrugged. “Mayhaps I just wanted tae see ye breathin’ and all,” she admitted quietly. She could not help but curl a wry grin when she was promptly met with a calm stare, where the man before her inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly. “Good.” The bard regarded him for a moment before she continued. “The Aerstorn grave. Was that ye?” When he only answered with a downward glance and silence, she sighed. “Mm. I thought so.” “I had... intended to find the young master, and remove him from Ul'dah along with myself." Gideon’s expression was one of disgust. Brynnalia frowned. Gideon had given voice to his plan before, one where he had hoped to return his dead young master somehow, back to life. She had given not much thought to it then; in truth, she did not think it was possible. But he had such glimmer of hope in his eyes then that she let it be, lest she crush what optimism he held for such an implausible future. She was hesitant to dash his hopes even still but… “Where are ye even keeping him?” She looked around suspiciously. “The young master was absent, Miss.” The bard cocked a brow. “He wasn’t in his own casket?” “It would appear not, Miss.” Brynn knitted her brows in thought. “Well, stranger things have happened in Ul’dah. Stranger than grave robbing, anyroad.” “I am sure miss is doubly familiar with them,” the valet said flatly. “So ye think someone else robbed him from his casket then?” “I cannot think of any other possibility, Miss.” “Hmph,” Brynn hummed to herself. She had researched Gideon’s former masters when he had been hired by Taeros. It was her job to vett those that came under the employee of the Monetarist noble. Especially after she had discovered the curious link between North, Stormchild, and Lazarov, she had to make certain that the valet’s past posed no threat to Taeros. She discovered that the elder Aerstorns were killed at sea by pirates and the young master that Gideon was personally responsible for was poisoned to death. But now the body of the young Sea Wolf noble was missing. She could not shake the memory of Banquo, an enigmatic speculator and a Roegadyn with a hidden past that had emerged from nowhere and expressed a keen interest in the valet. The odd thing about the Roegadyn was that he was constantly imbibing potions, to stave off some effects of poison he had suffered early in his life. This much Banquo admitted to her when she prodded him for details, so that he would get her to trust his motives where Gideon was concerned. Brynn still did not trust him, but he seemed truthful about his physical maladies at least. Now if the connections being made in her mind were even remotely possible… “What are you pursuing?” Gideon was now watching her oddly. “Ah, just a theory.” She flashed him her easy smile. “I’ll have tae look more intae it.” She paused, regarding him. “But the name Banquo does not ring any bells fer ye? Not that I think that be his real name. Ye can call yerself anythin’ if’n ye got enough gil. Were there any Sea Wolf nobles yer former masters worked with that may be so keen on ye?” “None, Miss.” Gideon shook his head. “The only Sea Wolves I believe my previous masters funded would be Guldraetsyn, Wheistymmthota, and Zoerbhirsyn.” Bloody Sea Wolf names... Brynn crossed her eyes as she tried to commit them to memory. “Did any of them have sons that were about yer young master’s age?” "Few of them had children present at the dealings, Miss... and those that did, were quite grown.” The valet closed his eyes, thinking intently. “The only one that comes to mind with children of viable age, would be Ms. Blind Sparrow. But she was a Hellsquard, as Miss may surmise.” Brynn pursed her lips as she studied him, but said nothing. No sense in giving voice to wild theories as yet, at least not until she had some threads of proof. “Well, while Taeros is… indisposed, I got meself a contract with this Banquo.” To this Gideon opened his eyes, giving her a pointed look. "Ye know fer what he be payin' me? Tae insure yer safety." She held up one finger. "And tae find out who ye were dealin' with." She held up a second finger. "It's like he be payin' me tae do what I was thinkin' o' doin' anyroad." “Very… convenient, Miss.” He did not sound reassured. “I thought so.” The bard shrugged. “But I not be foolish enough tae turn down easy gil.” She flashed him another easy grin. “‘Sides, that would only arouse suspicion.” “I suppose. Miss must be sure to ensure her own safety.” Gideon paused as a distant thunder rumbled outside the cellars. “This Banquo is someone else.” Brynn narrowed her eyes, her words sharp despite the nonchalant expression that still lingered. “And he is very interested in ye. If he be the one that be gettin’ ye in danger…” “...then Miss must take care not to allow this danger to reach herself.” He finished for her, his words firm and his gaze intent. The bard rolled her shoulders in a relaxed shrug. “He finds me useful, at least fer now. I am not worried, not yet anyroad.” Her grin turned a shade cooler. “Keepin’ them close and keepin’ meself useful and valuable usually lets me know when I’m safe or... when I should make meself scarce. If it not be ye only they be targetin’ then I best know what be comin’ eh?” “I suppose, Miss. It would be remiss of me to doubt your instincts of self-preservation.” She flashed him a confident grin. “Ye gone too long already that ye've forgotten that?" Gideon shook his head. "I may still endeavor to place you in the best circumstances to get what you want." Brynnalia slid closer to him, her eyes roaming over those bruises and scars that now marred his face. “And if it is just ye they be after and this Banquo be behind it…” Her tone took a serious turn. “Well, mayhap we can do somethin’ about that too.” His eyes followed hers steadily. “No unnecessary risks, Miss. Please.” The bard’s lips turned crooked even though they still held onto her usual mirth. “Don’ underestimate me, North. I got my reasons.” When he cocked his head at her with an unspoken question, she rolled her eyes. “I miss… yer food.” She placed her hands on her hips, feigning a frown. “Ye be goin’ about feedin’ everyone else on the countryside.” She shook her head. “Not right.” “You are welcome to stay for dinner,” Gideon replied with a half-smile. “Mm. After all that ridin’, that is the least ye can do.” Her smile turned toothy. “Besides, I don’t fancy meself gettin’ wet on the road just yet.” “Of course.” He exhaled quietly through his nose before he added quietly, “...thank you, Brynn.” “Fer what?” “For utterly disregarding everything I had to say.” He was staring at her flatly, but she could tell he was quieting a smile. “...I’m glad to see you.” The bard answered with a beaming smile. “Well, mayhap next time I track ye down across the states, I bring ye a handsome eyepatch.” "It is not entirely nonfunctional, Miss. I can still perceive you, albeit as a somewhat distant blur." “Ah, is that so.” She leaned in toward his left cheek to whisper in his ear. “Then ye just be lookin’ dangerous, I suppose.” In that moment, Gideon too tilted his head slightly, his jawline brushing hers just for a moment before she pulled away. "Always looking on the bright side," he murmured. “Now. Shall I see you to your seat?" Brynn clapped him on the shoulder, one hand tapping her belly. "Aye. I am starvin'!" "I hope Miss can handle some spice,” the butler said over his shoulder as he led her down the wooden stairs to the other room. The bard snorted loudly. "Let's see what ye judge as spicy then!"

Welcome back, Eleni! I am glad to hear you are feeling better and returning back to us.

Roen sensed the shift in his mood, his focus. His eyes diverted away from hers and his tone hardened as if water had frozen to ice. His explanation seemed a cold one. The paladin canted her head, as if trying to follow his gaze even when he turned his attention elsewhere. He was stepping back, away from the middle ground where they had met and shared their thoughts. She wondered why he was pulling back so. Was there uncertainty about what his purpose was before? He only had briefly touched upon it, but he too had mentioned doubt, lapses in resolve that could happen even amongst his people. Had he also experienced that lost feeling that had plagued her since Aleport? She watched as his chest rose and fell--the rhythmic breathing that filled the silence between them--as his austere countenance began to fall back into place. Roen wondered if that is how she appeared when she tried regain her own composure in those times that it had faltered. He did not want to fight, but was willing to for the benefit of his people. She was beginning to understand his reluctance in accepting his duty, sacrificing his desires to fulfill a need for the sake of others. Roen felt a sudden stirring blooming within, an urge that did not want to see him withdraw behind his rigid mask again. A hand timidly reached out, her pale callused fingers curling around larger, darker hand of the Xaela. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “It does matter,” the paladin said quietly. “Our doubts and our flaws are also part of who we are… as much as we hate to admit them. It is how we overcome them, that defines us as individuals.” Their discourse until now had been about purpose, resolve. And it was becoming obvious to her that Khadai identified himself by his function--his role in the world. Neither was what she truly wanted to know. Her grasp remained upon his hand. She had turned in her seat, her legs now tucked beneath her. She leaned slightly to the side, as if trying to draw his gaze back to her. She curled a small smile in offering. “You say you are Khadai, those called to defend. And there are others… those who create and those who… nurture? All of you are not just labeled by your function, aye? You are each your own person, still.” “Do you have a name? One that is unique to you?”

Roen listened carefully, trying to absorb the details that Khadai was sharing about his people. She was beginning to suspect that they were much more than just a utilitarian society, from the insights that the warrior had given about his personal misgivings, the trials of his people, and his own philosophy. And yet, so many more questions rose when he spoke of purpose and function, and how they were not the same. “What happens… when you are assigned a function and yet there is a different purpose that rings true in your mind?” She canted her head, regarding him earnestly. “You said you dislike violence. And yet you are Khadai, those who are called to defend. Fight. Have you ever had a lapse in your resolve?” The paladin could see that his stern visage had fallen away a little, and their gaze met and lingered. He always seemed distant before, almost always talking to her while looking elsewhere, or meeting the other’s attention with a severe expression of his own. She had wondered if he did so either due to discomfort or in an effort to keep them away. She was all too well-practiced in the latter, after all. It seemed that this day, they were both willing to meet in the middle, to do more than to just talk to each other, but to also listen. “You said you were not always Khadai. What were you before?”

When the paladin looked back up at Khadai, her cheeks were flushed with emotion and her eyes glistened with the tears she had shed. She found herself at a loss for an answer, especially when she glimpsed the rare wistful expression on the warrior. She stared at him for a moment longer almost dumbfounded, before she hastily wiped at her face to erase the trail of moisture there. “Why.... do I wish to aid you?” she repeated hoarsely. “I…” Roen paused again. Did she know why? She had warned him of the cruelty that existed in this world… because she believed that it would crush his optimism, his belief that people were inherently decent. She knew first hand what that lesson felt like, and she was desperate to spare him of it. But was that not the realization that should be taught to others? That virtue had no place in this world? Was he not headed down the same path of disappointment and regret if he continued to hold onto his unwavering faith in humanity? If she truly believed it to be so… she should be doing all she could to grant him that understanding. So why was there a part of her that wanted to protect him from it? “I… see parts of myself in you, Khadai.” She bowed her head, her voice just barely audible over the creaking wooden beams of the cellar. “How I used to be. Driven with hope. Believing others to be fair. Eager to do what I could to help those who were in need. I… do not wish to see you become like me, as I am now. Lost.” Roen tucked the earrings back under her breastplate, letting out an exhale as she felt the gems come to rest against her chest. Her gaze drifted to the stone grooves on the floor as she spoke. “You said we all learn to leave our path and wander. I have been wandering for sometime now, feeling adrift. I thought that was what I wanted.” The paladin shook her head. “But all I felt was emptiness. I thought if I pushed everyone all away, then I would feel nothing. I was wrong.” She turned back to Khadai, peering up at the warrior. “It was in coming to your aid that some of that hollow feeling was forgotten.” She shrugged with a quiet sigh--an almost a helpless gesture. “I... have no purpose of my own. Not… not yet. But perhaps in aiding you… I can start to find my own way.” Roen regarded him for a moment longer, her expression softening despite the sadness that lingered there. “And you are a foreigner in a land you do not know. You should not go about it alone. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Does it matter?” the paladin replied immediately, her words sounding sharper than she had intended. Was that not the question she had asked herself so many times over? If there had ever been anything she could have done differently? And each time she had recounted her steps, she ran into the same forks on the road over and over again and wondered if she would have chosen a different path. It would have meant not hoping that Nero would be a better man, or trusting Crofte, or others whom she had placed her faith in. Knowing what she did now, would she decide differently? ‘I thought I wanted you to join my side.’ Would she still try and convince him there were other ways besides violence that could prevail? Would she still hold steadfast onto her belief that Nero Lazarov was a good man? ‘But what I wanted was to go over to yours.’ Her hand trembled and she reflexively tightened her grip around the earrings she still held within them. She knew in her heart that if she was given one chance to do something different, she knew which moment above all that she would change. That fateful day, in that warehouse, in Aleport. Roen curled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, lowering her head upon her knees. She no longer wanted to meet Khadai’s gaze. “I cannot change the past,” she murmured. “I cannot undo what was done.” She felt herself shiver and it was not from the cold. She hid a quiet sniffle as she buried her face against her legs. “Would that I could tell myself to still hold onto hope. To take that one last leap of faith… despite all the lies.” She shook her head, her tone morose. “It is too late.”

I kind of LIKE the fact that your display name is the alias name rather than the real name. I've known players who intentionally changed their display name to hide who was disguised underneath the mask/armor/etc. In my opinion, it's opposite of lazy, to go through the trouble of disguising your display name as the person travels incognito. I've also found that people can get upset over the silliest things. I'd just let it roll off and keep on playing!

Regret. Roen did not know whether to laugh or cry at the poignancy of the warrior’s question. It was her guilt and regret that had haunted her every waking moment since that day in Aleport. Would recalling the circumstances, retelling Khadai of all that had happened, would it reopen the wounds? "Their causes are abandoned. Their ideals forgotten. What made them people are left behind, to litter the past like these stone markers litter this hill." In trying to banish her sorrows, was she rejecting all that she and Nero had worked for? Forget all that he was? All that they had hoped to accomplish? The amethyst earrings jingled softly as she laid them upon her palm. ‘May you forever have the strength to defend what you believe…’ “More than I can say,” the paladin rasped. She exhaled, gathering her thoughts. “Many refugees, those who fled the incursion of Garlemald in the north, fled south, and ended up on the Gates of Ul’dah. Only they were not let in. The wealthy ruling class deemed that the city could not support nor aid those people who had nowhere else to go. So they rejected them, left them to live in squalor outside the walls. Within the walls, exotic dancers performed for the pleasures of men, and drinks and food were plentiful for anyone with coin. And nobles walked about dressed in rich silks.” “It is very much like what you saw in the Brume. Only people do not freeze to death in Ul’dah. The refugees and the poor there die from starvation, disease, and misery.” Sorrow darkened her countenance as she continued to stare at the gems in her hand. “He wanted to change all that. To force those in power to take another look at themselves, and to restructure things.” A sad fleeting smile rose. “And I believed him. I tried to help him.” She paused for a long time, as her melancholy slowly gave way to something more sober. Her expression hardened. “But he was not like me, in that he was willing to do anything to achieve that goal.” She closed her fingers around the earrings. “He meant to kill people. Many people. Men, women, and children.” She fell silent, still staring at her closed fist. A deep frown twisted her face; it was almost as if she was glaring at the earrings within her hand. “I… thought I could save him,” she muttered darkly. “I thought I could save the poor, the refugees, but him too. He warned me from the start what he was willing to do. He was willing to bathe the streets in blood, to see the city burn, if it would bring about the change he wanted to see.” “I thought I could save him,” she said again with a shake of her head. “That if his heart wanted to save those people from suffering... that it could not be all black.” Her words shook and she fought to keep the warmth from rising to her eyes. “That I could somehow find a way to help him change his course and still help those in need.” Another long silence fell between them as she struggled to keep her composure. The wounds… they had not fully healed. Not yet. “In the end, I could not abide by the violence he had planned. And… many people died still." Her voice was the barest ragged whisper. "And nothing changed. I saved no one.”

Good thing I had some curry last night, else this thread would make me crave it again! I go with S&B Golden Packs as well. Tried and true! It's a tradition in our household. And I am with Kage, mixing med hot and hot together. As for green curry, I made it once and it was a pain! I prefer to make Japanese curry over green curry, and just order the latter from my local Thai place. What I had trouble finding the most is Thai basil to make it from fresh.

I really like your style! I also agree, if you are going to spend extended amount of time on anyone's characters to draw them, maybe consider a commission? I like your pencil busts. For whatever reason, they appealed to me a lot.

I was going to say that I've never heard of such thing, and you were crazy - but I see that it exists and looks amazing. It IS amazing!! (That picture looks like it is being served with naan. I still like it best with rice though) My first love was Japanese curry though... but green curry has stolen me awaaay~ (okay I actually pretty much love all curry)

Green curry is my absolute favorite curry in the world. And the best one I ever had was in London!

Roen gave Khadai a sidelong glance when he responded. But catching the change in his tone and expression, she found herself continuing to watch him when he brought out the runestone in his hand. Her gaze came to rest on his hand's movements over patterns on the stone. She said nothing as she contemplated his words. “I was so certain, before.” She finally broke the quiet with a soft murmur. “I knew what my path was, my purpose, and what I believed in. About the world, about the people in it.” The paladin paused at her own words. Has so much changed in a year? She idly rubbed at her breastplate, furrowing her brow at the possibility of sharing what had come to pass. And yet, despite her reluctance, a part of her wished to know Khadai’s thoughts on the matter--those odd, brusque, foreign thoughts that were not so strange to her. A heartbeat later, Roen tugged on the chain around her neck, pulling out a pair of amethyst earrings hanging from them. Her fingers carefully traced the elaborate filigrees of silver and gold, and when they swung from the silver chain, they jingled lightly. Her grey eyes watched them for a moment, her expression saddening. “‘Why would a man wear such a thing?’ I thought, when I first saw them. The man wore these flashy jingling earrings that drew my attention. His jokes and obnoxious grins were the same. Just to draw the attention, perhaps to mislead others from what should have been their focus.” She continued to watch the earrings, as the deep purple gem caught the light of the flickering flames in the distance. “He rarely said what was on his mind,” she said quietly. “Even with me... and I was one of the few people that he came to trust. And he did not trust very many.” The paladin shrugged, her expression muted. “He was like me, in ways that we both wanted to change what we saw was wrong. We saw that the rich grew richer, and the poor grew sicker. The gap between the two sides only seemed to grow wider every sun.” “That was how things were…” She paused and shook her head. “How things... are in Ul’dah. It is where coin dictates who rules.” A span of silence fell between them again. “It is not too different from what you saw in the Brume.” She snorted bitterly. “And in that, I suppose I did not really run away from anything at all.”