Roen

“I did,” Roen answered without much hesitation, her gaze also remaining on the far wall. “The reason I came to Ishgard was to run away from my failures.” That much she was willing to admit. And a part of her was surprised that there was not a stronger pang in her chest as she did so. Was it because Khadai was a stranger? She had found that confessing her thoughts was a cathartic and even a helpful thing when she had confided in Ser Heuloix in the Cathedral, because he too was a stranger then. Or was it because she saw fragments of herself in the Xaela warrior’s disposition? “Where I came from, the sun scorched the stone and soil from sunrise to sundown.” Her voice grew distant as she began to recall the bright sandy landscape of Thanalan. “Snow was a miraculous thing in Ul’dah if it ever happened, and often it melted as soon as it hit the sand. It was exactly the opposite of Ishgard in climate. It is also where I trained as a knight and had called home for many years.” The paladin paused, her finger absently tracing the chain links of her armor. “Perhaps that is why I came here. I sought to run far away from all that I knew… to dismiss from mind my regrets, my mistakes.” Roen snorted ruefully and shook her head. “I thought that coming to a land plagued by a thousand year war, where all they hoped for was to survive against beasts that sought to destroy their lives… I thought that would be enough to bury all other troubles.” Long auburn forelocks fell before her eyes as she lowered her head. “I was wrong. I was foolish to think so. You cannot bury your past. You cannot forget all that you have done.” Her voice had dipped and her expression had turned sour. “So aye. I did seek refuge, and perhaps for poor reasons. I came here because I could not stay where I was. And yet here, I am still lost.”

I know what you mean! There are terms that I want to use, but then I pause to ponder if it even exists in Eorzea. In one RP scene, Roen was talking about the waltz. Does a dance like the waltz exist in Eorzea? It is a classical ballroom dance, so I just ran with it. But I likely would not do the same with foxtrot (are there foxes in Eorzea...) or the rumba (latin influence) and or modern faster paced dances like the jive. I would be making up the descriptions for that type of a dance if it ever came to it. Although a "jig" would be okay to use in my book. I also sometimes wonder if I can use the same equestrian terms like canter and gallop for chocobos. A canter probably not... since it is a rhythmic gait, but likely gallop and trot I can? I might be overthinking it a little when it comes to these. So yes, I come across this problem often. I usually avoid terms that I know would break immersion, like a reference to a baseball swing.

Roen stood stock still, her back to the thick wooden doors that still rattled and creaked from the battering of the blizzard outside. She stared at the stairs leading down to the cellars, where Khadai had disappeared only some moments ago. Her hand instinctively rose to her chest, fingers absently rubbing over the breastplate where she could feel the earrings resting against her skin. "If you wish... to have discourse. Then I will offer what guidance I can." She had not spoken of what had happened--what had made her flee to this frozen place so many moons ago--to anyone else since her arrival. And for many moons since, she had not even considered revisiting those memories. They were too painful to bear. But now...? The paladin laid her hand flat, her fingers splayed over her heart. How long has it been since she had felt that suffocating vice there? "You appear well. You have found some measure of faith," Khadai had said. Has she? Well, just standing here is not going to give me any answers, Roen chided herself, feeling foolish at her indecisiveness. Letting out a long exhale, she made her way down the stairs. Finding the Xaela warrior seated in the corner, the paladin crossed the room to the table without another word. She undid the buckles of her gauntlets, leaving them as well as her sword and shield on the table. The Au Ra’s expression remained as stern as ever, but Roen recalled the glimpse of the forlorn countenance that had emerged even for a brief moment during their talk earlier. It did not last long, and it was quickly replaced by his usual austere visage. It reminded her of her own self. Roen slid down to a seat on the floor next to him, both knees drawn to her chest. She leaned her back against the wall, her eyes aimlessly looking about the room. It was after a moment of silence that she spoke again. “Do you wish to go back? To where you came from?”

I do pretty much what Crofte said. I have honestly forgotten to go back and check for replies because I get so easily distracted. Also I do go afk for a bit here and there, and when I come back, I don't scroll back to see if anyone sent me a tell since it usually means scrolling through LS and FC chat. I never try and ignore anyone outright. When I don't get a response to a tell for a long time? I assume the same thing happened on the other end too. I poke them again, and if that fails, I try another day!

Roen grunted as she lifted the chocobo harness, unhooking it from the wagon frame and unhitching the bird. The brown-feathered chocobo scratched at the icy ground, lowering its head to rub its beak against one of its legs. The paladin narrowed her eyes as she spied the bird favoring that limb, one of the talons curled in oddly. When she lowered herself to her knees for an inspection, she noticed a small scratch near one of its nails. “You cannot travel like this, little one,” she murmured as she gently tended to the chocobo’s leg. But both her words and the bird’s subsequent coo were drowned out by a high pitched whistle of the winds that were gaining in strength with each bell. The paladin got back to her feet and studied the darkening skies, her auburn forelocks tossed before her eyes. The storm will hit before I am even a malm from here, Roen thought. The other sellswords who were supposed to accompany her had already left, not wanting to be stranded in the northern Highlands during a blizzard. The mill offered sanctuary in a form of a stable and a cellar, constructed sturdy enough to ride out most blizzards. But aside from walls and some firewood, it offered little in the ways of amenities. Still, the paladin had waited. She had called Khadai on the linkpearl to come join her if he was in the area, in hopes of orienting him to the ways of caravan escorts. He had already been doing well in his hunts as far as she could tell, and his face must have become somewhat familiar with those at the Forgotten Knight that rewarded him for hunt bills fulfilled. Roen was hoping for a similar boon with supply runs. In truth, Roen had ventured out to the Highlands in hopes of getting away from the city of Ishgard. In the suns she had to herself in between scheduled lessons with the Therons, the paladin was starting to look over her shoulder and become restless once more. The lack of news of her brother could bode either well or ill, although she trusted that neither Kage or Delial would not delay in delivering grim tidings. Then there was the matter of Edda’s engagement to Jameson Taeros. The noblewoman seemed cryptic but determined in her decision to see this arrangement through, and it was with great reluctance that Roen agreed to stay away for both Edda and Gideon’s sake. The paladin herself had left Taeros to his own devices after all, believing that he ultimately did not have malicious intentions. The darkening horizon seemed to mirror her mood as the howling gale started to ripple the tarp that was fastened over the supplies of the wagon. Roen stared off into the distance, where she could spot the tombstones of the graveyard where she and Khadai had talked earnestly regarding their ideals. She frowned as worry started to take hold, for she doubted even someone as rugged as he could survive a Coerthas blizzard out in the open. “Why have you called?” a familiar voice rumbled behind her. Roen turned at the inquiry, and gave a sigh of relief at seeing the Xaela warrior standing by the fence that surrounded the mill. She no longer found herself bristling in his presence despite his usual severe disposition. His brusque nature even seemed to hold a softer tone this day, implying comfortable directness rather than impatience. “Ah, Khadai.” She greeted him with a cant of her head. “I had hoped you could help me escort the last of the supply wagon back to the Convictory but…” She gestured to the bird next to her. “This one cannot travel without some rest and the weather is looking bleak. I apologize for calling you out here. I will not be making the trip just yet.” “It is an inconvenience to be called,” the Xaela said bluntly as he looked to the skies. “Can you seek shelter until the storm passes? Have you prepared firewood?” Roen arched a brow, regarding him with crossed arms. “There are some within the mill, for just these occasions.” She jerked her head back toward the building behind her. She paused a moment, chewing her lower lip in thought. “But since I did call you out here, perhaps I can make your time worthwhile, at least a little.” She took the reins and started to lead the bird inside. “Do you have those maps and your hunt bills with you?” “I do.” He began to fish into a small leather satchel as he followed her in. Securing the bird within one of the stalls and dismounting the harness from its back, Roen glanced back at the Xaela. “Has Edda been teaching you letters yet?” Khadai looked from the maps in his hand to the paladin. “She had intended to. We have not yet had the opportunity.” Roen exited the stable stall, heading down the hallway to the stairs leading down to the cellars. “Well, since I had caused you some inconvenience, perhaps I can give you your first lesson.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “At least until the blizzard lets up.” The warrior paused in his descent down the stairs. “Why?” The paladin gave him the briefest of glances. “You need to learn it, do you not?” She was careful to keep her tone neutral as she entered the cellars, taking a candle to light more lanterns. “Unless you rather just study the maps.” Khadai followed her into the room, laying out the maps on the table methodically. “That is not an answer. For what reason do you wish to fulfill a service that has been promised to me by another?” Roen exhaled sharply, turning around once the last lantern was lit. She frowned at the Au Ra. “It is not a service I am fulfilling, Khadai. Not everything needs to be some transaction agreed upon. It is just… an offer of a lesson. I thought you could use it.” Her voice softened as she approached the table. “Knowing you, you would continue to become indebted in exchange for something so simple.” The Xaela warrior regarded her a moment longer, before he too raised his shoulders in something that resembled a shrug. “I do not accept your reasoning,” he said coarsely. “However, I will not refuse information.” The paladin narrowed her eyes at him, but shook her head and regarded the map. She leaned forward and tapped a finger on a mark. “This is where we are now, the mill. Have you had the chance to compare the map to your surveys?” Khadai frowned. “Is that what the symbol means? A residence?” He snorted. “Your maps require a defter hand.” He planted a gauntleted finger on one point near the northern edge, sweeping across a large range. “The environment alters rapidly with and without snowfall. It is different from my land. It is possible for the appearance of the area to change from one sun to the next.” Roen nodded, tapping at other marks on the map. “Aye, that is true. But there are at least some obvious landmarks that can be recognized. The Black Iron Bridge, the frozen river branches below that you can follow… they are detailed here. I can teach you the letters to recognize them.” It was then that she saw the Xaela warrior glancing up, as the strong winds began to rattle the rooftops and the rafters creaked in protest. The paladin paused when she spotted a forlorn, almost nostalgic expression on his face. “The storm increases,” he said quietly. But as Roen watched, the placid, stern exterior returned almost immediately. “I have no need of the names to navigate.” The paladin diverted her gaze back to the map and the hunt bills that were set aside next to them. She kept her tone neutral. “Aye, but learning the letters would still be a useful thing.” She leaned forward again, tapping her fingers over the large, bolded letters at the bottom of the map that denoted the region. “We can start with those.” Roen paused when he abruptly placed his hand close to hers as as she traced the letters on the map. His imitation of her gesture was accompanied with his typical serious expression. “I recognize a number of familiar symbols.” He continued to follow her movements with his fingertip. She gave him a sidelong glance then finished tracing the curves of the letters. “Coerthas...” she enunciated clearly as she went over them. “Coerthas Western Highlands,” she finished the rest of the name slowly. Khadai leaned in, pointing at the first letter. “What sounds do these symbols correspond with?” Her lips curled, satisfied with his inquiry. She began to sound out each letter again slowly. “The ‘th’ here is said as one, not all single letter always represent one sound.” “This is needlessly obtuse,” Xaela observed, even as he nodded. He pointed at the “t” in both “Coerthas” and “Western” and furrowed his brow. “These are identical symbols yet hold different sounds. Are there consistent numbers of sounds for each symbol?” Roen chewed the inside of her cheek pondering that. “I had never thought of it that way. Usually each letter has one dominant sound, but when paired with a certain letter, that pairing can change the pronunciation.” “A written language based upon circumstance in which the symbol is placed with no consistent sound?” Khadai shook his head, looking confused. “How are new words and phrases composed? How do those who have never seen it know how to speak of it?” “It was a system that was organized long before our time. But… there is a system, rules to follow.” She exhaled through her nose, finding her explanation a bit inadequate. “How do your people develop their letters?” He glanced at her. "My people have not used written word for some time." He withdrew from the pouch in his belt an item that he held clasped in his hand, as if hesitant to reveal it. "Transmission of ideas is done with a certain… process." Roen arched both her brows, clearly surprised. "How do they record knowledge?" Khadai frowned. "I am not certain I am equipped to properly explain, and you may not be equipped to understand. If you accept my explanation, it may be incomplete and misrepresentative of the process in question." "Why not try.” She peered up at the Xaela. “Equipped or not. You may even surprise yourself." He sighed. "As you wish." The Au Ra uncurled a hand and within lay a small pebble of polished black granite. It was a simple object, shaped like a rectangular prism, with an elaborate design carved upon its surface. It almost looked more like a natural pattern rather than a carving, so intricate it was, and yet it held a certain controlled quality of artificiality to its presence as well. With his left hand, he took her right hand and placed it upon his own right palm, where the runestone lay. His emerald gaze was unwavering upon her eyes as he did so. “What does your mind tell you?" he asked intently. "My mind...?" Roen flicked a glance between her hand and Khadai. "Is... it supposed to tell me something?" "No. I would be surprised if it did." His right hand fell from hers, the runestone clasped in his grip. "Transmission of ideas is done through stones such as this. The symbol upon it contains a certain… thing. That contains the entirety of an idea." He paused for a moment. "The symbol itself is arbitrary. The symbol is… a vessel. For this… thing. This..." He pursed his lips. "Energy? To flow." "Certain individuals of my people are capable of transmitting idea through touch or eyesight in close proximity." As if to demonstrate his point, he stepped close to the paladin and placed his face close to hers, his intense gaze focusing on her own. A few tense seconds of this and he pulled away, his demonstration done. Roen could only swallow and stare. "With such things, there is no ambiguity to the idea being transmitted, and the learning of symbol as they correspond to sound, and the learning of sounds as they correspond to ideas is unnecessary. If you possessed the capability of recording such information, you would be able to tell me of a thing that I do not know the word for." He gestured to himself. "And I, in turn, would be able to tell you of such a thing in equal measure." The paladin blinked slowly, her lips slightly parted. She was trying to absorb everything he was saying. "So you can communicate without saying a word. Through... just... thought?" Khadai shook his head. "No. We cannot tell what the other is thinking through effort alone. It requires… an exchange of sorts." She stared at his hand again. "But you use a stone carved with a... rune? For this exchange?" She was searching for the right word herself. "The symbol is arbitrary," the Xaela repeated. "It is only used to allow… the flow. Of information. The colour of one's eyes is arbitrary. It is only used to permit one's vision." "I see..." the paladin said absently, trying to process the information. "But the fact that your people can exchange ideas without even needing to speak… is remarkable." "Speech is still necessary for communication. Recorded information, however, utilizes this, and not symbols corresponding with sound." Khadai nodded. "It is a way in--" He paused. When Roen glanced at him expectantly, she saw his entire frame tense, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. Then suddenly he took off in a sprint, darting upstairs despite the sounds that indicated that the blizzard was still howling fiercely outside. The paladin got no chance to call out his name, she could only chase after him. The doors had been practically barricaded with snow. Still, Khadai managed to barrel through, the winds and snow smashing against his face and anyone else who dared to venture outside. Roen ran out after him without question, skidding to a stop upon the icy ground near the door. Even amidst the blizzard, the Au Ra’s viridian eyes nearly gleamed with a sharp gaze, as he looked left and right, scanning for something amidst the veil of snow and frost. The paladin could see nothing but sleet and darkness, having to raise a hand near her face to protect her eyes. Her other hand hovered near her blade, just in case anything posed an immediate threat. It was only after she assured herself that no danger was about that she began to approach the warrior. Khadai stood still, being battered by the storm for several long seconds that felt like minutes, before he turned abruptly around and nearly ran into her. Even before she could speak, he reached out a hand and wrapped his grip around her shoulder, spinning her around to herd her back to the refuge of the residence. “Inside!” he shouted over the screaming wind. Roen did not resist as she was led back in; his hand clasped upon her shoulder and the other against the side of her abdomen were rather insistent. But she stopped once inside of the stables, where it was only mildly less frigid than the blizzard outside, and the rattling of the building’s frame was even louder here than it was in the basement. She turned around and gave the Au Ra a pointed look. "What was that all about?" Hint of an alarm was clear in her expression and raised voice, although the latter might have been to carry above the loud surroundings. "My objective," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder to the door that still shook and shuddered with the force of the gales. "This is the second occurrence. So it is upon the Western Continent. Nearby...? No. But not far. It is..." He trailed off in thought. Roen blinked, wide eyes going from him to the door then back to the warrior. "You... saw it? Felt it? Heard it?" Khadai frowned. "Felt...? No. But that is the… closest description." "Ah. Well then, by all means." The edge of her lips curled upwards, her expression relaxing slightly. "I am glad for you, Khadai. What will you do next?" "I do not know. I have no clear course of action." He sighed, facing her again. "I may stay a while longer." The paladin stared at the door again, suddenly a spark of possibilities sending her thoughts spinning. "Did it tell you in which direction at least? Perhaps we can search through the maps. Or..." The warrior shook his head. "If I had obtained such an indication, I would have known. All I know that it is present." His gaze came to rest upon her. "That is substantial information on its own." "It is something." She nodded and there was new energy about her. She felt her breath becoming lighter and quickened. The paladin looked to the doors again, tapping a finger against her lip. "Although you needed not to escort me back in so quickly. I could have looked along with you or..." she pondered out loud, before the weight of his unwavering gaze on her was too obvious for her not to notice. She flicked a glance or two his way, then exhaling as if annoyed with herself, she squarely looked back at him. "Why are you--” “You appear well," Khadai mused. "You have found some measure of faith." Roen paused. She could not answer right away, instead she turned her gaze back toward the door. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, then wrinkled her nose for a moment before she responded. "I was... glad for you. It is difficult to be without purpose." "What do you refer to?" the warrior asked. She chewed her lower lip then shook her head. "Nothing," she said quickly and turned on her heel back toward the stairs. "We should head back downstairs, it is much more chilly up here. I doubt you can go too far in that blizzard, anyroad." The Xaela clasped her shoulder with an arm, turning her back around to face him. "It is not nothing," he chided. "I wish to know." Roen frowned. Such gestures may have flared her ire if it was a stranger or someone else, but she did not with Khadai. Perhaps she had come to accept his austerity as part of his frank nature. She was more surprised to hear her own candid response to his inquiry. "My history is sordid and not a happy tale, Khadai. There was a reason why I came here. It was to run away from my failures and my ruined faith." The frown had left his face. His expression was a stern one but it was one of approval as well. "There are many things I do not understand of this land. But to begin to regain what was lost, is to never lose it again." He released her shoulder gently. “I will rest, until the storm ends. Then I will depart." He pursed his lips, considering his words in that telltale fashion of hesitation he adopted. "If you... wish to have discourse, then I will offer what guidance I can." He offered her a short nod, and retreated back down into the basement leaving the paladin standing alone and cloaked in uncertainty.

I have met some really great people here. I now consider many of them good friends. So I love the people of the RPC, despite the fact that we have a varied mix here. Some posters have a hilarious sense of humor that actually makes me laugh out loud behind my screen. I will also echo Gwen in that I come here for the FF news. A few posters (thanks Kage and the rest!) make certain that the latest news/live letters/patch notes are posted here and I really do appreciate that. A lot. Stories. There are some really creative people here. I love LOVE reading their stories. I always check the IC section first whenever I come here. And reading IC and OOC posts, it does let me stalk get to know other RPers which opens the avenue for networking! If it wasn't for the RPC, I would have no one to RP with now. And last but not least, the mods and the admin team. I will just echo what Freelance said since it was said so well. So bravo everyone. Keep up the good work of making this place the place to come to for FFXIV RP. Remember, we are the RPC. Let's appreciate it and take care of this place.

Oh yes. Yes, I have. From a vague blurriness to my eyes to "crap I need more tissue" onion mode. It's ten times worse if I actually have sad music going to fit the mood of the scene.

Where is my honorary membership card?? And my super secret decoder ring??

Over twenty-five years ago... “Make certain nothing is left behind. I do not ever wish to return here again.” Maids and valets alike hurried about with nervous energy, eager to not catch the notice of the lady of the house. She stood still and statuesque--an ice queen in all but title at the top of the stairway. Her violet eyes were half lidded as they surveyed the servants scurrying about below, like frantic little ants across the marble floor of the foyer. She gave her orders; her sharp, glassy voice always echoing sharply beneath the vaulted ceilings, her words perfectly pronounced--always with an air of authority that would brook no argument from any who stood before her. The pale white hair that flowed like a ghostly waterfall down her back lent the woman an otherworldly quality, as if she never quite belonged amongst those she was with. Such was Lady Juliana Brooks’ repute within her household. When she demanded haste, all the retainers took notice and responded without question. Lysa Grieve was the one exception. She had been the lady’s personal attendant for years, and she could sense that there was an unease about her mistress. A hint of skittishness had clipped the usually fluid and elegant mannerisms of the midlander noblewoman for the past moon, and Lysa had spied a wariness to the woman’s glance more than once as she looked about her manse. But Juliana Brooks never gave voice to what cast the shadows over her usual unwavering serene expression. Juliana was the mother of two, and the wife to an ambitious nobleman. Lysa had never seen her falter in her composure. But when she spotted the slight tremble to the noblewoman’s delicate fingers as Juliana handed the hairbrush to Lysa two nights ago, the handmaiden realized that the worries that plagued her mistress were more than mere politics and finances. It was after Lord Lyndon Brooks left this morn, endeavoring for a two-day trip, that Lady Brooks ordered all her possessions be packed with haste. “Are you certain about this, my lady?” Lysa approached the noblewoman, her hands clasped deferentially in front of her abdomen. She kept her voice a quiet murmur, as to not be heard by the rest of the household as she peered up at her mistress imploringly. “I know what you will say, Lysa.” Lady Brooks did not meet her handmaiden’s gaze. “But you do not know what I know, and it is for your sake that I do not share my reasons.” Her perfectly manicured hands curled just slightly tighter around the stair railing. “Should I... then prepare for a long journey? Or…” She was instantly answered with a sharp look, Juliana's violet gaze unwavering. “No. You will not be coming with me. You are to stay here.” That robbed Lysa of her breath. She had never been apart from her mistress for as long as she had been in this profession. Serving Lady Brooks and her children had been her sole occupation and livelihood for years; it was something that she took great pride in. She loved the woman who stood in front of her, much as she would her own kin. The Brooks were her family. Lysa felt the blood drain away from her face as she stared eyes wide in shock at the noblewoman. “Am… I being dismissed… my lady?” Juliana turned from the view of the foyer to face her, dipping her head slightly to level her gaze upon the handmaiden. The noblewoman’s expression had softened, as did her voice. “Would that I could take you with me, Lysa. As well as my children. But I cannot. If I am to completely cut my ties with my lord and husband, it has to be only me.” Lysa’s eyes widened even more when she realized what her mistress was implying. “You are… leaving the children behind as well?” She felt her fingers tighten painfully in their grip around each other. She took a step forward, although her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “But what of Lady Rissa? And Master Lewan…” When Lady Brooks’ hand came to lay upon her shoulder, Lysa quieted. “I need you to look after them, Lysa.” Juliana’s quiet yet firm tone would brook no argument. “In my stead.” “But… what will I tell them?” Lysa shook her head vehemently, trying to impress upon her mistress the absurdity in all this. “They cannot do without their mother… I am a poor substitute. My lady, please reconsider…” Juliana exhaled and for a moment, there was a flitting shadow of doubt that crossed the woman’s face. “He loves them too much to harm them.” Those words were spoken forcibly, without conviction, as if she was trying to convince herself. “As long as they all abide by the ordinance set by the Holy See…” “What do you mean, my lady?! Of- of course they… we all abide by the rule of the Holy See!” Lysa knew that to even consider anything even remotely less could bring about the suspicion of heresy--that utmost dreaded word that struck fear in any heart who resided within the Gates. Lady Brooks quickly shook her head, a nervous glance given over her shoulder to the foyer below. She exhaled after a moment, when none seemed to notice their conversation. She turned away from her handmaiden, her focus remaining on the luggage that were quickly piling up in front of the main door. “The children will have to adjust. Change. Adapt. They will be fine.” Her fingers gripped at the edge of the railing again. “But my lady…” “That will be all, Lysa.” Juliana drew herself up and her manicured fingers straightened the hem of her dress. Her violet eyes adapted a cooler hue, and her countenance became porcelain perfect once more. “Take care of the children and serve your lord.” The noblewoman strode by the handmaiden and descended the stairs with quick fluid steps, the long fall of her dress whispering over the carpet. Lysa had naught another word to offer her mistress, to try and plead for her to stay. Within moments the lady of the house was gone through the doors, three retainers in tow lugging her bags and boxes. It was only a few breaths later that Lysa turned, spotting something in the corner of her eye. Rissalyn Brooks sat behind the stairway railing on the third floor, her hands clutching at the wooden bars. She said nothing, and her expression was difficult to discern as the light from the chandelier above reflected off her glasses, hiding her eyes behind the glare. But Lysa knew that she had heard everything. The sullen child was staring out at the door that remained ajar, as the frigid winds began rolling into the house. Two months ago… "So. Y'all were askin'..." Edmund grunted from beneath his helm. “‘About names ye shouldn't be askin' about." The winds were whistling loudly beneath the Black Iron Bridge, tossing the Highlands snow into a chaotic spin around all the occupants gathered there. Lysa tugged on the thick woolen cloak around her form to try and ward off the chill. But her old bones ached and her joints had stiffened, as it always did in the cold. She leaned closer to the thick metal pillar to use it as a partial shield against the gale, even as the voices of the conversation on the other side drifted to her ears. "Ye brought more gil? This only goin' ta happen if there are rewards to be had." She heard Edmund call out to those whom they had come to meet. Lysa moved slightly to her side to peek around the pillar at the people they had come to bargain with. She could see a tall, dark-skinned Highlander woman step forward, her hand spread out in front of her. "The universal motivator, is it not?” the Highlander woman answered languidly. “And there is more to be had, of course. This could be the easiest job you and your friend have ever had. If, of course, the information is sound." Why were they inquiring about her? Lysa frowned. It had been years. She had nearly forgotten about the house she had served. About her mistress who had left the fate of two children in her hands. And the youngest... the one Lysa had failed the worst. It was Rissalyn that these outsiders were asking after. Was it a mere coincidence that she had seen the ghost of her only a fortnight past? Deprived of wealth and opportunity, Lysa had made a humble home in the crumbling areas of The Brume. And once a sennight, she, along with many other residents of Brume, came out to greet those who often brought donations of food and firewood. Such benevolence was not often seen, but Lysa had come to know at least one of them with some familiarity. A soft spoken man who smiled to her when she prayed to Saint Reinette. He had given her an extra woolen blanket and clasped her hands in his in joined prayer. It was with this same man that Lysa had expected to meet when she saw the vision of Juliana Brooks. There she was with her silvery hair straight and sleek down her back, cold violet eyes deep as the darkest amethyst, and the perfect porcelain complexion that seemed untouched by nature. Lysa thought it was the spectre of her mistress who had come to visit her in the darkest depths of Brume. But it was not. The woman had been shorter in stature than the noblewoman Lysa had served over two decades past. And this phantom who resembled her wore a pair of spectacles, something that Juliana Brooks never needed. It had to have been Juliana’s daughter that accompanied the charitable man. Lady Rissalyn Brooks always did bear the strongest resemblance to her mother, though her hair had been black in her youth. At least, when her mother had left. The last memories of Rissalyn’s fate--the horrible memories Lysa had kept hidden away for so long--had made the old woman cringe and flee from the man who brought her food and firewood. The white haired woman did not seem to notice her. "Lysa! Tell them something useful!" Edmund’s gruff voice broke Lysa from her reverie. She found herself staring at a group of strangers--the dark skinned Highlander woman standing the closest to her, with an armored Lalafell bearing an axe next to her. They were accompanied by a Highlander man and an armored Miqo’te bearing a lance. Lysa found herself at a loss for words for a few breaths. It had to be the Spinner’s work. Or Halone’s will, Lysa told herself. It could not be mere happenstance that these outsiders were asking about the young lady she had served so many years ago. "You speak of Rissa,” Lysa said after a long moment's pause. Her voice was hoarse. “How... how do you all know her? I had not seen the girl for many years." "I once knew her,” the Miqo’te answered first. “I talked to her several times in Gridania. I once... protected her before..." She paused and there was clear regret in her face and her downward ears. Lysa craned her neck from her woolen cloak to get a better look at the Miqo’te. She could hear the same remorse in the Miqo’te’s voice that she herself felt in her heart. "Gridania. Ah, yes, she always did love green things. Anything alive really." Some small warmth filled her chest as she recalled their unmarred childhood, the life Rissalyn had led before the Mistress departed. "She needed protection you say." Lysa closed her eyes, her tone growing forlorn. "She needed it here too. Then. I wasn't enough though. None of us were..." "All I knew at the time was that she was an Ishgard exile who may have been hunted by the same assassins after my mentor.” The Miqo’te stepped forward, her words grim. “It was a short alliance born of ignorance." Lysa did not look back up, she just nodded. "Aye. She would have been an exile, then." "Alright, enough." Edmund cut her off. "Any actual useful information is goin' ta cost ya more." "And just what do you plan to do with so much gil?" The other Highlander man drawled. "Ye outsider, eh?” The scorn in Edmund’s tone was obvious for all to hear. “Have ye seen The Brume? What ye think we goin' ta do with gil? Hang it up on the wall?" Lysa paid no attention to the haggling. That was not why she had agreed to come. She had ran away from the vision of her past, and then these outsiders came asking about a name she had long tucked away in the darkest corners of her mind. It could only mean one thing. That the girl she had failed, the daughter she had thought long dead, had returned. "Praise Saint Reinette,” she said with a shudder. Lysa raised her hand to the sky. “That Lady Rissa still lives. And now has brought deliverance upon us!" Lysa hoped that perhaps this would be her second chance to redeem herself, to atone for her failures. To ask for forgiveness from the child she had allowed so much suffering to be visited upon. Her eyes began to well with warm tears despite the icy touch of Coerthas Highlands. She did not hear the subtle crunch of snow behind her, nor the slick sound of metal piecing leather. Lysa did turn at the dull thudding sound as Denston fell to the ground next to her, his body limp. A crimson stain was slowly growing beneath him. Then she felt the cold, cold touch of metal pressed against her throat. "Old one should be a Quiet one,” a growling voice hissed next to her ear. Lysa was never given an opportunity to answer, for the metal blade pressed further into her throat then slid to the side, opening the arteries there. She felt the warmth of her lifeblood as it began to spurt forth, and her breaths quickly turned into desperate gurgles. The surprised cries of the Lalafell warrior and the armored Miqo’te were distant muted echoes to her ears as Lysa fell to the snow. She died before she could draw another breath.

Story screenies! "It is said that two individuals cannot understand one another without sharing action." Khadai heaved the sword over his shoulder confidently. "I wish to understand you. And to grant you an understanding of myself. Perhaps in doing so… you may gain a measure of peace." "We shall spar." The paladin slowly canted her head, the warm glow from the nearby windows giving an odd light to her eyes. She drew her shield then her sword. "If you wish." “Officially...” Martiallais began, his tone taking an almost detached, professional tilt, “Au Ra are recognized as people not creatures, not dravanians.” There was a pause as he repeated, with some emphasis. “Officially.” “But unofficially...” Roen gave him sidelong glance. “Unofficially however... there is little to protect them should a knight or band of knights see fit to put what, by all counts, appears to be the thousand year enemy of our city-state, our people, our very goddess herself, to the blade.” "Edda. He... he must not know that I asked you to employ Gideon. If Taeros knew of our association... he may find out... he would suspect..." The paladin's words came haltingly, as if she was holding back something. "I... I do not wish to put Mister North in any danger. Taeros must not know that his valet and I know each other."

I always level the class that I RP, for aesthetics, gear, lore and etc. But paladin is not my main PVE class. I prefer to play a healer. I did incorporate that into Roen's story though, she has a natural gift for healing/conjury, she just never pursued it earnestly. She took up training with the sword and a shield early in life and never looked back.

- Did you have any of these "roleplayer crushes"? y/n, is it just me, being a creepy nugget? If you mean "crushes" in that I was too nervous to approach them? Not really. When I see someone on the RPC that I want to play with, or hear about a player/character that sounds interesting, I just PM them. Most people seem pretty friendly when they are approached! - How do you handle these? Do you just send an aggressive PM/tell with things like "you, me, RP, 8PM EST"? My PMs usually start off with "Hi! I heard you played a character that was--" or "Hey there! I saw your posts on the RPC and thought--" or some such. I usually let them know a little about my own character and if the dialogue happens, then we try to come up with a hook to at least arrange for that first RP session. I don't just do random walk ups anymore since my character's current arc really doesn't allow her to just hang out and talk to random people. She is just not in that mindset. And with an ongoing plot and such, I would rather that things were prearranged. - Just how excited do you get when plotting with these new people, and realize they love your ideas and bring even more material on the table? I've had mixed experiences, all good though! Some started with just vague details and "let's wing it" kind of an attitude, and others we brainstormed quite extensively before getting started. A few have been "we can figure it out as we go along" kind of a thing. In my history of being on the RPC, majority of the contacts I've made and the people I've continued to plot with have been a result of me contacting them. People rarely contact me for RP although when they do, I am incredibly flattered, and most of the time I am trying to figure out the context and plot hooks and such. (sorry for those who I have yet to actually make it work... >___< ) (you know who you are... I have not forgotten I swear!) There are a few that I also have been wanting to contact but... time and plot constraints have not allowed me to do so yet... But being that so far pretty much every attempt I've made to reach out to others have been met favorably, I am not discouraged in continuing to do so and I encourage others to do the same!

Roen had called Khadai on their linkpearl to meet her at the Falcon’s Nest. Her tone and the nature of her request lacked urgency, and even seemed cordial, and the Xaela had agreed fairly readily. The biting chill of the Western Highlands was as astringent as ever, and though the Twelve had seen fit to spare the Highlands of snow, the sharp gales brought by the cold were as harsh as they ever were. The kitchens of the Falcon’s Nest compound was often open to adventurers, a beacon of warmth and shelter, and it was there that the paladin sought refuge from the climate. Roen pushed open the double doors to the kitchen with a rough shove, shaking off the sheet of snow from her armour. Khadai was, as ever, remarkably easy to spot; the Xaela had his hands contemplatively folded together, elbows upon the table, his chin resting on the brass-coloured fixtures of his gauntlets. A neat stack of hunt bills lay next to him, weighted down on the table with a small but heavy looking purse, and several other purses were spread out in front of him in a neat, symmetrical fashion. A cleaned plate, devoid of crumbs, and a mug of hot liquid lay emitting wisps of steam next to him as he shuffled the purses and coins about in a seemingly random fashion. A momentary sense of satisfaction settled upon the paladin when she spotted the purses and the bills. "You have been productive." When she was answered with a mere grunt, she almost smiled. "Well, I had thought to give you something but..." She approached him as her attention turned to the satchel hanging by her side, her hands fishing for the maps. “You seem to have done well without any aid." "The beasts are plentiful. And aggressive. They came to me more often than not, thus I was not required to hunt for them." Khadai sighed. "The blizzard would have made tracking difficult, in any case." The warrior glanced at her. "Are you well?" The words were spoken awkwardly. Roen paused as she noted his rather clumsy but earnest effort in practicing the norms of social etiquette. It was as if he had never said those words with the sole intent of demonstrating courtesy. It was odd, but also somewhat heartening to hear. "Well enough," she said absently as she set her sword and shield aside, taking a seat next to him. But spotting the deep frown that still creased the Xaela’s expression, she canted her head. "You do not seem pleased for all the hunts and coins you have gathered." Khadai waved a hand at the purses in front of him. "I am not informed as to the denominations of this currency. It is… difficult to gauge success." "Ah." Roen nodded. "I can assist in that. If you wish." The warrior waved an idle hand again, sliding the pouches over to her. "You are welcome to it." With that, he pulled out an immaculate knife from his belt--an ivory handled blade polished to a gleam, fastened around a thick and razor sharp length of tooth or bone. From beneath the table he withdrew a length of rust-red material--a mylodon horn--and applied the knife to it. The paladin watched him from the corner of her eye as she gathered the purses, fishing out and stacking the like coins upon the table. "The currency is gil here. And different pieces hold different values..." She arranged the coins in a neat row from higher to lower values. "There is also currency called Allagan pieces, made of different metals, and they too are all worth different value. Although I suppose what you really want to learn are the values of goods you would want to exchange them for." Khadai’s face twisted in some frustration as the edge of the knife did little to chip at the resilient horn. He barely afforded a glance at the display of stacked gil. "I am only concerned with food and lodging," he grunted. "I do not have particular need of anything else at the moment, and so the rest will be saved." Roen eyed him a moment longer, noting his disinterest before reaching into her satchel. "Oh, I brought something for you." She slid a few rolled up leather scrolls towards him on the table. She opened one to reveal a map that had large bold letters at the bottom. "These are rough maps of the surrounding areas. And the written word at the bottom is the name of the region." She tapped her finger over the lettering. “The Coerthas Western Highlands. This is where we are now.” The Xaela took the parchment from her, his lethargic demeanor seemingly vanishing as he examined the topography carefully. "I thought it might help should you want to explore other regions." She shrugged. "I have not been to them, myself. My patrols did not take me far beyond Coerthas." "Are you a knight?" The Au Ra asked suddenly, looking up from the map. The blunt question made her pause. "A knight," she echoed quietly. "There are many definitions that are put to that title." "You are not a combatant in service to this city? Ishgard?" “Some may assume that of me because I bear a shield and I am trained to be one.” Roen shifted slightly in her seat. Being addressed with the title of ‘Ser’ never quite sat well with her after she left the service of the Sultana. In her heart, she felt that such titles were reserved for those who swore unbending fealty to one who was able to bequeath such a title. “A title of a Knight is one bestowed upon those who take up the oath to protect who or what they serve. At least, in my opinion." "I am no Ishgardian Knight,” she added after a pause. “Unlike Ser Heuloix, who you met a few suns past." Khadai looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I had intended to ask." There was an awkward pause. "Are you female?" Roen blinked slowly, twice. There was an odd and slow quirk to her brows as if she was trying to gauge his expression. "I am," she finally answered, her tone slightly incredulous. "Is that not obvious?" The Au Ra looked truly confused. “But you fight. I do not understand. You appear female. Others appear female and fight as well. You are…” He paused, as if to select his words. "Permitted. To fight?" "No one permits me to fight.” The paladin answered quickly. “I chose this profession. Do your people not allow females to fight?" "Permission is irrelevant. Females do not fight." Khadai paused then corrected himself. "Our females do not fight. Why did you choose?" When the Xaela looked to her for an answer, he was only met with a bewildered silence. "Is such a… choice… accepted here?" It was a moment before Roen was able to formulate an answer. Studying his expression and tone, as well as reminding herself what she had come to learn of the Au Ra warrior, the paladin was able to dismiss whatever indignation that begged to rise at his skewed logic. "You can choose your profession. I wanted to take up the sword and shield for as long as I could remember." Roen watched him carefully as he looked away, brow furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to fully comprehend her answer. She crossed her arms, now honestly curious. "Where you come from, do no females want to try and fight? Take up arms?" "They do not. Why should they desire to do so?" "Why should they not? There is a sense of fulfillment in being able to protect others when it is needed." "Women do not choose to protect. It is not their place." Roen canted her head. The concept of choice just seemed foreign to the Au Ra. She redirected her line of questioning. "Why did you choose to become trained in the martial arts?" Khadai wrinkled his nose at her query. "I do not understand the question." The paladin frowned. "Surely, you had reasons why you took the sword. Why should a female not have those same reasons?" "Reason?" He blinked. "I do not have a reason. This is who I am. Khadai." Roen stared at him for a moment longer, lips parted in confusion. "So you were just born to be a warrior?" She gestured with a sweep of her hand toward him. "With your people, males are the only ones allowed the privilege to take up arms?" “It is not a privilege. It is a responsibility." "I understand the need... the weight of responsibility that is taken up by those who choose this path." She sighed. "But it is still a choice, to accept it. What if I also saw fit to take on such a task for myself? Should I not do so, because I was born a female?" Khadai did not answer right away, his dark brow furrowed in thought. He finally rose from his seat and gave her a curt nod. “Stand.” Roen blinked but complied, rising from her seat. She only stiffened slightly when he closed the distance between them with a single stride, standing close to her, his height allowing him to loom over her. "Take your sword," he rumbled. Roen felt no alarm, regarding the warrior curiously. She reached to her side to draw her sword from its sheath. Then she watched as Khadai carefully pinched the flat of her blade between his thumb and forefinger and placed it against the heavy brass-colored shoulderguard of his armor. "The higher the point of impact, the weaker your strike will be,” the Xaela said matter-of-factly as he then directed the blade and pointed it against his chest. "A thrust upward requires more force to be effective. and you fight against the weight of your blade.” The warrior turned the blade to its side, such that it was adjacent to his abdomen in the fashion of a slash. "A swing with limited angles of effective attack is predictable." "You are telling me all of your tactical advantages." Roen frowned as she continue to watch him maneuver her weapon. "I am not." His gaze bore into her. "I am telling you of your disadvantages. Take your shield.” The paladin narrowed her eyes. As she equipped her shield onto her arm, she watched him walk around her, standing just behind to her left side. "Raise your shield to cover my torso." Roen looked over her shoulder, her expression was already darkening. "Again, more disadvantages due to my shorter height?" Khadai took firm hold of her arm and raised the shield to cover his chest. The stance was awkward, as her hand was positioned to reach towards his shoulder, leaving her almost entirely uncovered. "A Xaela woman would never desire to be Khadai. She understands that to be placed within a role not of her place is to jeopardize all others who adopt that role,” he rumbled without any arrogance in his voice. He did not seem to change his tone when Roen jerked her arm away from his grasp. "You possess inherent disadvantages that make you less effective and less efficient as a combatant in the battlefield. Perhaps your desire to fight fuels your choice. But so too does it place others who may rely on you in danger due to factors outside of your control." Khadai gestured to some Elezen knights who had just strode out the door. "If you were called upon to lend your shield to defend those knights, would you be able to? Would you be able to bear your shield in formation with them? Drag the wounded off the battlefield?" Roen narrowed her eyes. "So your people presume to judge everyone's worth and job based simply on how they are born? Their gender? Their size?" She glanced to the door where they knights had left. "I have fought alongside them against aevis and other creatures that would threaten those who cannot defend themselves. Elezen and Hyurs have fought next to each other throughout history. Success in battle takes more than just brute strength and size. It takes will and commitment. Strategy and training. The fact that Eorzea still remain free should stand as a testament of that. Races come in all sorts and sizes here." "Worth is irrelevant.” The Xaela would not be convinced. “All have worth. All have value. All have function. Would you use your sword to cut lumber? Would you use your shield to dig dirt? It is certainly possible to do these things. It is not effective, practical, or efficient. These items have no place in performing such functions outside of what they are intended for, despite what they may be used for. To accept otherwise is to condemn oneself to inadequacy." Roen scowled. "Some people see freedom of choice as far more valuable to uphold than perfect efficiency." "Is such freedom so valuable if it jeopardizes those you claim to wish to defend?" "No one comes into this world with their path already predetermined." The paladin found her fists tightly closed by her side. "For better for worse, people should get to choose what they want to do. You cannot choose for others." Khadai did not seem to notice her ire. "That does explain why your people are all so backwards," he mused, the corner of his lip curling in amusement. Roen sheathed her sword and set her shield down, her frown still lingering. "It is not backwards to give people freedom to choose what they want to pursue." The warrior just shrugged. "As you say." The paladin exhaled, shaking off her irritation. "You do not want anything else for yourself? You were born Khadai, so this is what you knew you would become? A warrior? Nothing else?" He gave her an odd look. "Why should I desire to be anything else? Should a fish desire wings? Should trees desire legs to move? To attempt to defy role and nature is to willingly invite misery. If I am not Khadai, who shall be? Who shall defend my brothers and my people? Who is more capable than I?" "But you are not a fish. You are not a tree." She crossed her arms, exasperated. "You are you a person, with your own will to choose who you are, what you do. Are all warriors named Khadai? Are you all deemed as one? Fighters?" "We are Khadai. It is all we are. Those called upon to defend." "Just because you were born tall, strong, and capable, you must fight." She regarded him with a hint of sympathy. "If this is what you always had the inclination for, then you are lucky that this is the role that fits you." His austere gaze faltered then, and the Xaela turned his head away from her. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I dislike violence," his voice dipped with that admittance. But there was only a short pause before he added, "I dislike harm upon my people more." Roen stared at him, speechless. That was the last thing she had expected he would say. Not after the manner in which she had first found him. She dropped her arms to her side and her voice softened. "Then your people are lucky to have you to take up such a weight upon your shoulders. Whether it was your choice or not." When Khadai remained silent with his expression somewhat distant, Roen leaned one hand on the table, peering up at him curiously. "Why did they send you? And alone?" “It was necessary," the Au Ra said evasively. "Your people seem to hold adequacy and efficiency above all. At least, from your descriptions." She regarded him intently. "Whatever it is you were sent for... I am not convinced sending you alone was the best choice." "It was… not optimal. But there were extenuating circumstances." "Did you volunteer?" "It was necessary," he repeated neutrally. Roen studied the warrior’s expression for a moment longer before she let it go. "As you say." It was the first time he had not answered all her questions with immediate forthrightness. She was not sure if she was glad that he was not as guileless as he seemed so far. "But you will need more information if you are to succeed in finding this thing you seek." The paladin crossed her arms and lowered her gaze. "From what little you described, I cannot fathom what it could be but... some scholars may know." She shrugged. "Then you can return to your people and put this backwards society behind you." Khadai turned away as well. "I will find it. In time. It would be best to be certain that it is what I seek, rather than returning with an incorrect or incomplete objective." "Will you know when you find it? Or see it?" “I believe so. It will be distinct. It is part of the reason I was sent. I am capable of identifying it." "I wish you success in finding whatever it is you are searching for.” Roen wondered at the wistfulness she heard in her own voice. Perhaps she envied him for his unwavering faith that he would know his purpose upon discovering it. Khadai turned to her, and his low rumble softened slightly. “I am grateful for your assistance, regardless." The paladin did not meet his gaze, instead glanced to the far corner of the room, shaking off sudden melancholy that threatened to rise. "Well. As I said, I do not like people being taken advantage of. And I sympathize with foreigners." She shrugged nonchalantly, although a frown had darkened her expression. "Let me know if I am needed." Khadai’s viridian gaze looked upon her intently. “You seem troubled." "Troubled?" Roen pulled her lips in a weak attempt to look placid. "It is not anything you need to be concerned with." "You have offered me assistance.” The Au Ra dipped his head, still studying her. “I wish to offer the same." There was a twitch to her lips followed by a long bout of silence before the paladin spoke again. "Your words at the graveyard and the armory,” she whispered hoarsely. "They have stayed with me." She frowned and clamped her lips shut, regretting even having said that much. She suddenly turned and gathered her sword and shield, speaking now without meeting his gaze. "And you need not offer equitable trade. The aid I offer is because I want to. I do not expect something in return." "I see." Roen hooked her sword back onto her belt and hung the shield on her back. "You would do well to save your earnings. If you need someone to hold your funds, I am certain Edda can arrange one for you. I should get going." Her tone had hardened with a businesslike edge. The paladin found herself glancing toward the door, eager to leave suddenly. "Do look over those maps and the letters there. You will come to recognize them easily enough in time." That was when Khadai raised a hand to stop her movement by placing it against her shoulder. It was unexpected. "You are ill at ease." His rough voice held the barest tinge of concern. Roen blinked, staring at his breastplate for a moment. When she finally glanced up at him, she gave him a sad smile. "And what if I was?" "Come with me." When the two stepped out through the double doors, the blizzard had settled, giving way to a gray sky and a gentle snowfall. Roen followed him out in silence, and stood still in the middle of the courtyard as the warrior circled her left and right for sometime, before he drew his giant sword. "It is said that two individuals cannot understand one another without sharing action." Khadai heaved the sword over his shoulder confidently. "I wish to understand you. And to grant you an understanding of myself. Perhaps in doing so… you may gain a measure of peace." He stood a few yalms away from her in the courtyard, the cold winds tossing his long raven forelocks over his eyes. "We shall spar." The paladin slowly canted her head, the warm glow from the nearby windows giving an odd light to her eyes. She drew her shield then her sword. "If you wish," she answered quietly. She appraised him up and down and her lips took on a slight curl. She drew her sword and brought the shield in front of her. [align=center]---[/align] A few Ishgardian Knights had given them more than a passing glance as they walked by, their attention drawn to the ringing sounds of blade meeting blade that echoed into the darkening skies. Some merchants paused to watch the taller form of the armored Au Ra swing and spin his greatsword as he assailed the shorter Hyur woman; a couple of them leaned over to whisper to each other ear as the paladin continued to deflect his strikes with her shield, using her size to evade and move in for a counter maneuver. The exertion and brisk winter air had both of them breathing heavily. The flat of the Xaela’s greatsword was pinned against the surface of the paladin’s shield, the crossguard of the large blade having blocked her own retaliatory strike. Caught in a limbo of attack and defense, their waltz of clashing steel had briefly ceased. And then something happened that Roen did not expect. Khadai grinned. It was not the small lip curl of vague amusement, nor the typical stern frown he usually wore. His piercing emerald eyes made contact with hers, and his lips softened and parted ever so slightly upward into a small but noticeable smile, even as he breathed. Her own muscles released its tension in response. It was impossible to tell how long they had been sparring, the snow continued to fall around them, cooling hot skin and burning muscles. After a pause, the warrior stepped back, and heaved the sword over his shoulder again. “You are a skilled combatant," he mused. “I had seen your skills at Dragonhead," Roen eased in her own stance, sheathing her weapon. "You wield that sword with surprising deftness and speed." "Has your mind cleared?" he asked as his long blade slipped into its sheath behind his back. ”There are few cures more wholesome than exercise." "Mm," she hummed. "You surprise me, Khadai. Just when I think your ways and mine cannot meet in the middle... you prove me wrong." "There are things I may never understand. But ultimately..." The Au Ra pursed his lips. "These are things that do not matter. You are deft with your shield." He crossed his arms in contemplation. "Mayhap when used in combination with my sword, a potent pair we would make on the battlefield." "Despite your height," Khadai added after a pause. His lips were curled upward that Roen even suspected he was actually teasing, though his tone was humorously deadpan. The paladin narrowed her eyes at him, but curled a wry grin. "I try to make up for it however I can. Somehow, I have survived thus far." In three long strides, Khadai came to stand just before her. His eyes seemed to be gauging her height as he looked down to her. “It is… endearing," he rumbled, folding his arms. Roen blinked, giving the warrior an odd look. She straightened her expression, remembering herself. "Well... that is..." she started, then trailed off. Roen drew a sharp breath in and turned her attention to the door leading into the kitchens. "Do take care and not leave your coins just laying about." He said nothing, only watched her oddly. "I should go," she muttered, and began to dust off more snow from her armor and murmured under her breath. "I will do so.” Khadai frowned. “With the blizzard clear, there is opportunity to hunt." He turned from her to face toward the kitchens, but paused. “Be well," the Au Ra said somewhat awkwardly and gave her a nod, before walking off to retrieve his things. Just when I think there is no middle ground… The paladin stared at his retreating form until he disappeared through the doors, before she turned and marched away into the night.

“I do not want you returning to Camp Dragonhead as of yet. Lord Theron took well to meeting you. Serve him and his family for now. They are close personal friends of mine. I will send word when you are to return to the regiment. -Idristan Tournes” Roen read the letter one more time, as if reading it again would change the wording somehow, or to even glean some new, hidden meaning from them that she had not before. She sighed and folded the missive, tucking it away in her breast pocket. She tugged at the fringes of her long-sleeved shirt and straightened the leather vest that closed tightly around her chest. She leaned on the counter as she continued to wait for the cartographer to return, her fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood. Was there still discontent amongst the soldiers at Dragonhead after the aevis incident? Did anyone still suspect the Xaela warrior that happened to have arrived the very same sun? Even though Khadai had been an active and essential part in defeating the Dravanian thralls and protecting the aetheryte? Roen knew Idristan Tournes well enough to know that his decisions were solely based on the welfare of Ishgard and its soldiers. So for him to order her to stay away... either he saw her and her affiliation with the Au Ra as a disrupting influence, or somehow he thought it best for her own welfare. “Constantin would appreciate your morals and your passion, I would think,” the knight captain had told her just before he introduced her to Lord Theron, head of a small noble house over a fortnight ago. She had not known then exactly why she was meeting with a midlander Ishgardian noble, but now the reasons were made clear. Constantin Theron and Idristan Tournes had agreed to have her serve as a tutor for the young adopted son of the house, Astidien, in the ways of the sword and shield. It felt strange, being out of her usual armor. But it felt wildly out of place walking around an aristocratic home in full plate just to mentor a youth, and it was even politely suggested by a retainer that she find more fitting clothes for lessons as well as tea. The paladin fidgeted; her footsteps felt lighter and her feet felt more acutely closer to the ground in the leather soled boots. She realized with some chagrin that she had grown accustomed to--and perhaps even preferred--the heavier armor around her frame. The paladin also felt strangely displaced being in the city proper for suns on end. Initially after she had escorted Edda and Khadai across the Gates of Judgement, there had been an unease that preoccupied her mind, as many eyes seemed to look upon the Xaela with suspicion and wariness. But as suns passed without incident, and after fitting Khadai with new Ishgardian armor, Roen’s anxiety for the Au Ra warrior lessened. That was when the paladin found herself starting to get restless. There were still more than a few affairs weighing on Roen's mind. The evidence of the grisly Au Ra killing they had come across... well, she had written to her knight captain on the matter. But she knew she too was a foreigner here and it was not her place to seek out proper justice. And then there was the matter of her missing brother. In Roen's last meeting with Delial and Kage, both seemed intent in their desire not to have the paladin involved. It was something that had begun to have its own weight as more time passed: her refusal to care, her self-imposed exclusion. Deep down, Roen did worry, there was no doubt. But she still did not believe she would bring anything but more despair and ruination if she were to get involved. That had been her recent lessons, had it not? Roen winced slightly at the memory of her final parting words to Delial, when she confessed to killing a good man. It was an admission that still twisted her insides whenever the paladin remembered it. She was just starting to shed some of the suffocating weight of her regret, the darkness that hovered over her for many moons finally allowing small shafts of light to break through. Nero’s face no longer haunted her dreams every night, nor did he occupy her every thought as he had before. Roen was starting to question her true purpose here in Ishgard, that perhaps it was more than just to run away and forget. Or perhaps it was Khadai’s words. Discovering that the Xaela warrior was an idealist, that he held many values that she used to hold dear, it caught her off guard. Even finding one of his own kind speared through the chest and left to freeze in the snow did not deter his fair outlook on the rest of the world. A strange one he, she had yet to meet anyone like him. Efficient to the point of callousness, painfully blunt at times like a hammer on an anvil, and yet with a surprising integrity at his core… he was an enigma that confounded her. So in suddenly finding free time to herself within the city walls, Roen had taken to the task of acclimating Khadai to this unfriendly place as best as she could. He seemed much more at ease in sharing his thoughts when they spoke at the graveyard, and again when she took him to the armory. And both times, he questioned her of who she was and why she had lost her faith in her people. The paladin refused to answer, and he refused to accept. He would learn, as I did, how hard this world can be. How ruthlessly it treats those who want to believe that people are fair and honest, Roen told herself. But as soon as she did so, a cold pang shot through her chest when she realized what she was trying to convince herself to accept. This cruel lesson that she herself had learned, would she just stand by and watch it happen to another? A part of her already knew the answer. "Here you are, Ser Deneith." The announcement broke the paladin out of her reverie as the Elezen cartographer placed a few rolled up leather maps in front of her on the counter. "Drawings of the surrounding areas, with the letters inscribed as you requested." Roen gave the map a once look over, and nodded with satisfaction at seeing the cleanly written letters at the bottom of each region naming the various locations. She had shown Khadai the postings on the board outside the Forgotten Knight. It was at least one sure way he could make some coin while residing in Ishgard. But that was when she learned that he could not read any of the letters on the hunt bills. The renderings of the creatures were easy enough to identify, but he could not read the their names nor the regions where the bill stated the marks to be. These maps would help him scout out the area easier and perhaps learn the regions by their names written on the bottom. He could learn to read the letters on the map and the hunt bills, she could at least aid in that. It was a small step in learning to read, but with practical application. The paladin curled a small satisfactory expression as she nodded to the cartographer and placed a stack of coin on the counter as payment. “The maps should get you to find the roads with ease, and some landmarks as well.” The Elezen mapmaker smiled at her. “Although I thought you were quite familiar with the area already.” “Ah, these are not for me.” Roen shook her head as she rolled up the maps and tucked them into her satchel. “But I am certain it will be well appreciated.” Khadai might not even need the maps at this point, for all she knew. He had been surveying the lands outside the Gates for a few suns already. But it was an idea that had seeded itself in Roen’s mind and she wanted to see it through. She could see that he still felt very much a stranger here, despite the native armor that he now wore. His rigid and silent demeanor when she and the Xaela warrior had accidentally come upon Ser Heuloix and Lady Dufresne was clear evidence that his unfamiliarity with social etiquette made him quite uncomfortable. It was after that meeting that Roen thought perhaps in giving him some freedom to exert himself outside the walls and earn coin, that some of his unease would be lessened. The paladin patted the contents of her satchel idly as she stepped out of the store and into the snow. "It is a thing. This thing will affect… a process. It is a… solution? It is meant to prevent a decay. Reverse it." That was the best that Khadai could do to describe this object that he had come to Eorzea to find. Even as awkward as he was in conversing with the two Elezens, he had answered their questions as truthfully as he was able. Neither Ser Heuloix nor his lady friend were able to glean any idea as to what this object may be, but their eagerness to help was evident. And now Roen had some vague idea of what his assignment was as well. To prevent a regression of sorts amongst his people. "It seems… mayhaps you have found another reason to lift your shield after all, mm?" Roen still recalled Ser Heuloix’s words as he smiled at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. The Duskwight knight from the Cathedral assumed she was starting to find her convictions again. The paladin had said nothing then, and shook her head even now at the memory. She was just aiding a lost stranger in a foreign land. It was easier to aid someone she did not know, rather than risk heartache in failing someone she cared for deeply. She told herself this, and a part of her almost believed it. Letting out a quick exhale to dismiss her restlessness, Roen squinted up at the snowfall and the grey skies above. She was not due at Theron manor again for a few suns, so she would take the opportunity to don her usual armor and head out toward the Convictory. She hoped to find some ease in focusing her thoughts and energy elsewhere outside the walls, and perhaps even deliver a map or two.

Alchemy quests were nice too, a nice tragic romance with a somewhat of a happy ending? (I don't only gravitate towards tragic romances, I SWEAR) And the weaver quests. Yes. Very cute. The game should have more. Like... Ysayle and Estinien. For example. That never happened. :dodgy:

Welcome to both of you!

I do this as well. Although there are plenty of RPers I regularly play with who do not use quotes in /say when they are speaking and I can adapt to them just fine.

I am with Aya on this. Writing style is a personal preference. But as to where the usage of future tense came from... I guess we have this thread to thank for the history! I would have always assumed it was out of courtesy either way. I use either past or present. Lately past tense has been my preference since I find myself writing RP actions like a narrative. But I switch to accommodate whoever I am RPing with since I like for things to be consistent going back and forth!

The dark, imposing silhouette of the Xaela warrior was the last thing that Roen had expected to see when she visited the cemetery. She herself was not sure why she came to this place, an ice covered hill peppered with burial mounds and gravestones, almost forgotten on the northern side of Coerthas Western Highlands. Perhaps she sought the deserted place for its solemn isolation. Not many lived this far from Falcon’s Nest, after all, for the conditions were too harsh. But the deceased still remained here, entombed beneath the frozen earth. After witnessing the Au Ra female left impaled in the wild, her own losses began to weigh upon her mind, and soon the paladin found herself here amongst the dead. Roen had burnt Nero’s body, and she was far from the oceanic coasts of Vylbrand where she had sent his burning remains to float out into the sea. A part of her longed for the view of the horizon where she had last seen the flickering flames die. And there was no where else that the paladin could go to revisit the memories of the those who were lost, except for this abandoned graveyard. With Khadai’s indifferent attitude toward the female Au Ra still fresh on her mind, Roen did not know what to make of his presence here. He stood stock straight--a stance befitting one of martial discipline--his hand straight at his side as he stared at a gravestone. Roen sensed no meditation or melancholy in his pose, so she came to stand a few yalms behind him. “Khadai.” "You have questions," was all he rumbled back without turning. He did not seem startled by her arrival. "I am surprised to find you here." She did not close the distance between them; she did not want to intrude. "I thought you did not care for the dead." "I do not." His attention remained on the headstone in front of him. “But the Western continent's attachment to those who have passed… understanding that attachment is tied to my understanding of its people as a whole." "Do your people not mourn those who have passed on?" “We do." The answer is flat and immediate. "You would not think so if you watched us, though." "No ceremony then?" "No." "But you feel their loss." "We do not feel the need to display it." Roen ascended the small hill to stand a few fulms away, regarding his profile. She still recalled his cold willingness to dismember the body of the impaled woman just to remove her from the stake. It was something she would have never considered. "How do you dispose of the dead then?" "That depends on the circumstances." A passing wind tossed his green streaked ebony locks over his one exposed shoulder, but the Xaela did not seemed bothered by the prospect of frostbite. "If it is an individual, a shallow grave. If it is many, a mass grave." "And if one of your own was found murdered in the wild?" "A shallow grave," he said after a brief pause. "Unless the body is difficult to remove. The Khadai only bury their dead to mask the losses from our enemy. If one passes in camp, they are removed for the health of all. Otherwise, they are disposed of in the manner that is deemed to be the most efficient and least exhaustive. At times, that means the corpses are abandoned in the wild." Only a quick exhale through her nose betrayed her chagrin. "How practical. Are there no sentimentality allowed?" Khadai responded with a sharp glance from the corner of his eye. "You think my people emotionless and cold. Without thought or feeling. A body is merely that. A body. It is a vessel. A dead body is, too, a vessel. One that no longer carries the mind or spirit of the one who inhabited it. One does not mourn spilled water by grieving over the jug." He paused, then corrected himself. "....Should not." “You do seem intolerant of any sentimentality." Her lips tightened. "Everyone grieves differently. Here, in this land, we remember the dead by treating their body with respect. We may burn them or bury them… there are different ways to depart with those whom you have lost." "The dead should not burden the living," the Au Ra spat out. "They warrant no resources, and only as much attention as is required that they do not adversely affect those around them with disease and carrion. The fuel required to burn a body could warm a hundred dwellings for half a moon. It is… wasteful." There was a frown audible in his voice. "This is a land of abundance, without material hardship, if it is to be using its resources in such a manner." His words gave her pause. "Your land must be harsh indeed, if you have to limit yourself from even a batch of firewood or a jug of oil to burn a body." She had assumed from his demeanor that he placed no value in nostalgia, reminiscence, or civilities. But his interaction with Edda, his dedication to uphold his pact with her even if it would interfere or delay his own plans, it at least spoke something about his honor. And now, she was beginning to glean an understanding of how different his life may have been before coming to Eorzea. "I suppose we do spend resources on how we treat the dead." Her mood had calmed, and her tone dipped with melancholy. "Perhaps it is in a way, making up for the loss we feel when they are gone." "By using resources that would be better spent improving the lives of the living?" He cocked his head at her. "Your people have odd priorities. If a body is to be burned, it is for the sake of keeping the environment clean. Otherwise, to dispose of it with fire is as pointless a gesture as dressing the body, or attempting to feed it." "....do your people do that, as well?" he added after a pause. He sounded half mocking and half serious. "Do not mock the culture you do not know." The frown that rose was immediate and her words came quick and clipped. The Xaela turned his head back to the headstone in front of him. "I was told of the Western continent's practices before I arrived. I still understand very little of it. You are a people of contradictions." It was after a long pause that he spoke again. "...I would ask a question." Roen found her ire fading as quickly as it rose. She had not come here to argue of all things. "Ask." Khadai pointed to the faded headstone. Where there once might have been artistic calligraphy engraved into the stone, wind and time had worn away the grooves and cuts into an illegible scrawl. "There was writing there. Do you know what it says?" She scanned the faded markings on the stone and shook her head. "Nay. But it oft holds a message for one who had passed. Along with their name, perhaps the length of their life." "But it says none of that now. It is a simple engraving. It does not wear easily, and when it does it is simple to maintain." He slightly turned, sweeping his arms to the other headstones around them. "These are similar." "If your people possess such respect for the dead, why are none who lay here remembered? Their names lost. Their purposes unfulfilled. To clean the headstone… it is a trivial matter." Roen knew that his words held no fallacy. This place had been forgotten and abandoned to the unmerciful climate. "The headstones, the graves, the burial. They are all symbols of ceremony. It allows for others to surrender to their grief during the process." Her voice quieted. "Then as their sorrow passes... so do the care of the stones, I suppose." Would she forget her own losses in time? Was that not why she had come to Coerthas? To forcibly forget? "When the loss is raw and fresh, we all need..." Roen paused, searching for the right word. "...We all need ways to cope." "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." Khadai shook his head. “Life is meant for the living. That is what we believe." His voice remained stern but without reproach. "We do not waste platitudes on the dead. If those who have passed have earned our respect, we carry on their work. Adopt their ideas. The dead care not for material comforts or verbal expression. To waste moments of our lives giving them what they do not want nor need… that is disrespectful." The Au Ra shrugged. "So it goes." "Sometimes it is easier said than done," Roen murmured. "You burn your bodies here. I have seen the cold areas of your city. 'The Brume'. Why is the firewood not distributed there, instead of being used to dispose of a body?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "The effort to bury, why is that not used to reconstruct? To ignore the living for the dead… I do not expect I will ever understand such a sentiment." The paladin felt her chest sink a little. "The Brume needs much. I... I cannot argue that I too would like to see more resources given to those who are in need. I do not know if you have seen The Pillars. The wealth that is bountiful there. There is a disparity in our society that exists despite logic." "I do not understand. Your people possess resources. Wisdom. Knowledge. This much is evident. Triumphs in architecture. Wealth. Abundance. And yet there are those who are lacking. Those who are sick, and lost. Those who are frightened, hopeless." He shook his head. "This is why I call your people… contradictions." He gestured to the headstone again. "You respect the bodies of the dead, but not why they died, or what causes they carried in life. To be such a people of paradox. I cannot fathom such an existence.” Her frown only deepened. "Not all causes are abandoned. They are just..." Roen had to pause, swallowing the tightness she felt in her throat. "To try and bring equality to all, to try and end the suffering of all who are in need... it is... a dream." "There is greed. Avarice. Pride. All these things are also abundant in our society. Those who have comforts do not want to lose them. Those who lack them, are desperate to do anything to take what they can." "Your people are cynical," he observed. "They have lost the reason and drive both to work towards something better." "Someone once said... cynics are disappointed idealists." Her words did not sound like her own. "There are people who try to work for something better. To help whoever they can. Some even resort to radical means to try and achieve those ends." The paladin dipped her head. "I..." She paused. "It... oft does not end well." Khadai did not answer her immediately, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. "You do not trust the civilization you identify with," he said after a long silence. Roen’s head hung her head low, her auburn forelocks falling before her eyes. They swayed when she shook her head. "I tried," she quietly confessed. "I… we... believed that we could change things for the better. I have only ruination and deaths to show for it." Her frown turned into a scowl. "The world does not want to change. Those who know do not care. And those who care do not know." Khadai glanced at her, a rare expression of sympathy on his face. "There is a parable about such a thing." He shifted his stance, eyes strangely thoughtful. "A priest came upon a blind man who stumbled amid a forest. The blind man would trip and fall, and call for help. In time, the blind man would manage to stand, before tripping once more. The priest asked the blind man what had happened to his eyes. The blind man told the priest, he had lost both of them in battle and been abandoned. He was once a peerless hunter, but without his eyes, the world fell from prosperity to ruin. The priest told the blind man, ‘Change it back’. The blind man became angry, believing the priest to be mocking him, for he could not restore his eyes, nor could he force the world to bend for him. The priest said, ‘Change yourself. You are the foundation for your own world.' And the blind man realized how his senses had sharpened. He could hear every step, smell every scent. And so the blind man became a hunter once more." Roen did not immediately reply. Khadai frowned, and added, "The world is what we make of it. If you change, there is no assurance that your world will change with you. But if you do not change, you may be certain that nothing will." Roen blinked and slowly lowered her gaze, looking at nothing in particular. She stayed silent for a long time. "That is a wise parable,” she finally broke the quiet. Khadai’s gaze upon her was steady and intent. "Do not lose faith in your people." The paladin flicked another glance at the Au Ra, clearly surprised. He was studying her face. "You believed in them before. You must do so again." Roen exhaled, her expression slightly softening. "This is the same people you consider contradictory," she said wryly. He shrugged. "No people are perfect. Mine included. We, too, started with our share of contradictions. We have long since worked past such things. It is easy to close one's eyes and believe that somethings can never change. Easy, and fatal." The Xaela paused, his words slowing as if to carefully deliver its intent. "All meaningful actions begin with a sliver of belief. Belief can destroy armies. Belief can shake mountains and drain oceans. Belief..” he pointed towards the spires of Ishgard. “...is what can create monuments that reach the sky." Khadai kneeled down and picked up a stone. He curled his fingers around it. "One stone creates ripples. Those ripples may become a wave. That wave may drive fish. Those fish may feed fishermen. Those fishermen may in turn care for the ocean." Roen had fallen to silence as she listened, her brow furrowed. "You are an idealist, Khadai. I was not aware," she said softly. "People are finite. Mortality is infallible. Death is unstoppable." He glanced back at her. "Only ideas endure time." The paladin nodded slowly, then once more as if to herself. Her voice had notably softened when she spoke again. "For a foreigner... your ideals are not so strange." The corner of his lip curled upward. "Then I am glad to blend in with at least one aspect, if not the others." A rueful curl twisted her own lips. "Do take care. Such ideas only brought me misery and sorrow." Her expression did not darken despite her words. "But know you are not alone in such beliefs." "I will continue my surveyance." He gave her a slight, almost imperceptible dip of his head, and then turned from Roen and strode away into the snowy fields.

"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." "Know that the man you fell in love with, is not all you want him to be. He is not who your heart wishes he becomes." "... and is Lazarov?" "I am only imparting the lessons that I have learned. I do not wish for you to come upon them as I did. I wish you no ill will, Ser Crofte. But know that the path you walk, and the hope of redemption you hold for someone you love... only sorrow awaits you in the end."

Aya's correct, there are quite a few wonderful Ala Mhigan characters in this community! (and sometimes, people who hunt Resistance sects as well...) I've found people here to be generally welcoming. Welcome to Balmung!

Welcome to Balmung! I also heard recently that The Drowning Wench has become a popular spot for RP as well. And I've ran into some open world RP in Ishgard. Have fun out there!

At any point in time, a character usually has more than a few choices to consider in any given situation. Out of the plausible choices, I often do choose to go down the path where I think it would add to the enjoyment of my RP partners as well as enrich the story. Then there are also those forks in the road where I know without a doubt what my character would do and I usually do not shy away from that. I have yet to recall any incidences where I regretted the RP choices that I made... except for one. At the beginning of No Good Deed, I had no idea where the story would go, only that it would be a clash of ideals between two people. Then as the arc progressed, I began to see a certain recurring foreshadowing. I believe my RP partner was setting it up that way. I still had some hope that it was just one possible end, but not the end that the two would reach. Then of course, when we got to the end of the story, I saw no other path that Roen would take. I do not regret the ending, there is a part of me that loves tragedies. But looking back on it, I do regret that Nero died at the end of it. He was a fantastic character, and still with more layers to discover. And Nero and Roen had barely scratched the surface in terms of coming to truly understand each other. So yeah. While I do not regret the course the story had taken, I do regret that it resulted in a loss of a character that to this day I still would have loved to know more about.

Ishgard’s climate had noticeably chilled since the last time she had walked the cobbled pavement of the city, but it was not the temperature that bit at her. From the wary glances to the nearly belligerent glower that were thrown in the Xaela’s direction, Roen found her hand swinging just a little closer to her weapon as they made their way across the long bridge into the walled city. It was only when they reached the giant aetheryte crystal, where the merchants and the adventurers seemed more prevalent in their mingling, that the paladin allowed herself to relax. Here the inhospitable air seemed to lift, giving way to one of indifference. Had this city-state been so hostile when she first arrived? The paladin could not recall. Perhaps her senses were so dulled then that she had not taken much note of her environment. But the image of the frozen woman’s face still hovered in her memory, enough so that it had prickled her senses and made her more aware of her surroundings as they entered through the Gates of Judgement. Roen stole a few glances at Khadai, and while his expression remained severe as ever, she noted a slight odd shift in his posture; his gaze flitted about and she thought she heard a note of uncertainty that tinged his words. Certainly if she felt like an outsider here, she could not imagine how it must be for a true foreigner like an Au Ra. “Lodging would be good,” the paladin nodded in agreement. “The Forgotten Knight might have some rooms available still. With the influx of mercenaries and traders, it had gotten quite crowded in the city.” Roen frowned. She recalled that despite the fact that the Forgotten Knight shared its doors with the lowborns of the Brume, the inn itself had become quite popular since the gates were opened. It was only because Ser Tournes personally knew the innkeeper that she was afforded a room at a decent rate. Roen pursed her lips and looked to Edda with a conciliatory cant of her head. “The prices for a room may be quite extraordinary, despite the condition of the lodging.” Strangely, she felt the need to lower the noblewoman’s expectations before Edda saw the dark and dingy room for herself. “But it is what is available to the new arrivals.” Roen gestured toward the stairs that led to the tavern, before she paused. She glanced over her shoulder to Khadai, looking him over up and down. “Perhaps a visit to the Jeweled Crozier is also in order. While your furs may have served you well until now, it distinctly marks you a stranger above than the rest. You would do well to try and blend in with the others in the city as much as possible while you are here.” It all may be a futile effort, for nothing would hide his scales and horns, but she did not want to admit that. The paladin looked toward the path that sloped upwards. “If you find yourself walking uphill, likely you will end up in The Pillars. It is the wealthier part of the city.” She gave another sidelong glance to Edda. “I do not know if you have any connections here, but that is where the noble houses can be found as well as the artisans in the Jeweled Crozier.” She turned and swept her hand towards the Forgotten Knight and beyond. “And if you wish, I can show you The Brume as well. The poorer parts of Ishgard.” Her voice dipped as the paladin added with a small frown, “It is night and day, the difference between the two.” She found herself almost reaching for the two earrings that hung from the thin chain around her neck. The amethysts set in their delicate filigrees seemed to press against her chest just a bit heavier beneath the armor. Roen dismissed the wave of melancholy that threatened to take her with a shake of her head, as if she was loosening some snowflakes from her eyelashes. “Let us get you settled in,” she muttered as she ascended the steps with long strides toward the Forgotten Knight.

I don't shy away from sad RP. Matter of fact, if I know there is a potential scene coming up where it can possibly get emotional, a part of me gets a little excited. I love emotionally gripping scenes! But! I can't have them all the time. They are like cupcakes. I need to savor them, but not too often. And if a character was always sad, I think the RP would be quite taxing. I say this even knowing full well that my character currently is still grieving the loss of someone she loved, is guilt ridden over that death, and it is a daily struggle for her to not think about that. But before it led to that, there were plenty of lighthearted moments, heartfelt scenes, and adventures to be had. So the tribulations have to be paced appropriately, hopefully with a compelling story that leads up to the tragedy if there is one, and when it happens, those involved should be dealing with the fallout afterwards. The consequences of the tragedy should be just as interesting if not more so than the actual event itself. Oh how I look forward to the emotional payoff. I sometimes do find myself struggling a little with the pacing though. As exciting as roleplaying can be, and with many different story arcs that happen sometimes at the same time, it is easy to get swept up in all of them because it's fun and exciting! But to do so sometimes can lead to too many things happening to the character in a short span of a time, which realistically could turn anyone catatonic with PTSD. And that's no fun to RP. But getting back to the point of the original post, heartache and sorrow can really be compelling to roleplay and I enjoy it, but it has to be relevant in terms of context of the story and paced. There are also very few things that are more rewarding for me than someone ELSE telling me that they were moved by a scene with my character whether they were part of it or they read about it afterwards.