Roen

Roen sighed loudly as she cupped her chin with her hands and leaned forward. She gave Daegsatz a helpless look and a shrug. “Somehow make the rich think it is in their best interests to spend their wealth helping to banish poverty.” Roen frowned at the premise. It seemed an impossible goal at first. “But if we can find a way to put the people to work through some enterprise which could also profit those who would sponsor it…” she pondered out loud, then groaned. “I know very little about business or any of these sorts of ventures.” The paladin drummed her fingers against her cheeks, looking stumped. She had never thought this way before. But what Daegsatz had pointed out made sense. It surprised her, the understanding the Sea Wolf had of human nature, and the way society behaved. He was right. She did not want people to change because they feared the law or repercussions. Roen wanted the city to reform the way things worked because the people themselves saw that it could work for the better. The trouble was that those who were comfortable did not want to recognize that there was a problem, and those who were suffering, they could very well stand and shout that they were being repressed, but no one would hear them. Roen reflected in silence for a moment longer before she gave Daegsatz a sidelong glance. “Well, you have insights I had never considered before. Do you have any ideas?”

Roen found herself nodding eagerly. “Aye! I think people just need to see that things can improve!” The paladin tapped her cheek in thought. “Ul’dah is where I see the indifference take hold of the populus like an epidemic. But if the culture can be changed here...it can be changed anywhere, I suppose.” She snorted and shook her head with a rueful chuckle. “But one city-state at a time." "I am no bard, I cannot write songs or stories. But I can bring injustice to light. Show people that corruption is wrong. That it should have no place in Ul'dah, that there are people who will fight against it. Perhaps, if enough citizens see it, they too will no longer accept it as a norm." Roen drew herself up, sitting up taller than before. "It sounds like an impossible dream. But...it does not mean we cannot try, no?"

Roen canted her head, regarding the Sea Wolf contemplatively. “To want to survive, thrive, and succeed...these are not what I am trying to change.” The paladin shook her head. “They are not all that dictate the nature of a mortal soul. I also believe that when we are born, there is an inherent need for us to love, and to be loved. That we are born with compassion, so that we can care for others, and we seek the same in return.” Her voice was quiet and reflective, her thoughts elsewhere as she recalled memories of people she had known, children and adults alike, both in Eorzea and Garlemald. She had seen many at their worst, but she had also quietly watched mothers and fathers doting over their children as they played, laughter wafting through the air. Such memories always brought about a wistful smile to her. “I think it is easy to push aside such concerns when we are buried by our own needs, pulled in too many directions by selfish desires and distractions. That we fail to see our neighbor who has taken ill or a stranger who has fallen nearby. Why take notice when we are too busy keeping ourselves warm and fed?” Roen bowed her head and gave a long exhale. “That is when someone needs to show them that it does not take but a moment to stop and do something, perhaps just extending a hand or a kind word...sometimes that is all it takes to make a difference in other people’s lives.” The paladin looked back to the Sea Wolf, who watched her intently as she deliberated. “There are those who do this already everyday. The Immortal Flames tirelessly serve the people. The Sisters of the Church are kind and selfless. I just feel that we can do more, if we are can just open people’s eyes.”

Roen raised both her eyebrows, a sober countenance rising to the fore in the face of the Sea Wolf’s thoughtful and inquisitive mien. She sat down next to him on the cot, her eyes going to the iron bars in front of them. “Ul’dah is a magnificent city. It is called the Jewel of the Desert for a reason. Wealth and gil flow here, like rivers through the plains of La Noscea. But too many are kept from the water. They are not allowed to drink from it, for fear that there is not enough for everyone.” The paladin gave Daegsatz a sorrowful glance. “Surely you must have heard of the tales of woe that afflict Ul’dah--the overflowing wealth of the Syndicate still rejecting the crush of refugees that flock to the Jewel. All the citizens know of it, but no one speaks of it. And too many accept it as what must be. I have even heard it compared to the Nald’thal’s scale. The suffering balanced against prosperity.” Roen shook her head. “To change such a thing... it would be a monumental endeavor. I am still not sure how it can be done. My hope is to change people’s perception of it somehow, to start--to show them that they should hold the Syndicate accountable for their greed, and for the disregard of the people that they take from.” “Perhaps if we can first banish indifference, apathy and greed will follow. And compassion may take their place.”

It was twilight before Roen finally returned to the gaols. The day had been spent in one futile search after another. Nero was nowhere to be found; he was not at his usual safehouse nor at any of the ports she had known him to use. Her search of him had been half-hearted however, she still was not sure what she wanted to say to the man. Ser Crofte, on the other hand, was indisposed. Roen found her at Coffer & Coffin surrounded by friends: a Miqo’te woman named Leanne, Anelia, Franz, and Verad. The paladin’s relief at finding the Sultansworn was short-lived however, when she found Coatleque roaringly drunk. Her usual refined speech had given way to a harsh Highlander accent and she was rambling on about love and loss. Something had happened between her and Ser Castille, but Roen did not prod the woman in her inebriated state to find out what. But it was clear that she was in no condition to consider releasing a prisoner from the gaols. So left to her own devices without an immediate method to get Daegsatz released, Roen contemplated on other ways to at least give him some brief respite from the suffocating cell. She would tell absolutely no one that she actually visited a brothel and considered inquiring about a Sea Wolf matching Daegsatz’ complexion and hair. It had worked for Natalie when she smuggled Roen out of her cell for a bell, to share a luncheon in the open expanse of the airship lounge. Perhaps Roen did not have Natalie’s gall or overconfidence (or maybe insanity) to think that such a switch could work; she changed her mind before she would even knock on the door of the bordello. Then when she recalled the Roegadyn’s mention of a conjugal visit, Roen did an about face and walked away quickly, her cheeks flushed. By the time she entered Daegsatz’s cell, the paladin had brought the only thing she could think of. If it worked for Coatleque, why not for the Daegsatz? She held up a bottle in her hand. “Something different for you today. Mistress Momodi recommended this when I asked her for the strongest drink possible. She said this would even would put a Sea Wolf like you under the table before the bottle is done.”

Roen sighed, a look of consternation quickly chasing away her enthusiasm. “I hope so too. My meeting with the Captain of the Sultansworns now leads me to seek out a good friend, Ser Crofte. She is honorable. I think if I can convince her that you do not belong here, she can get you released from the gaols.” She paused a moment, before laying one hand on Daegsatz’s shoulder--a gesture he has afforded her a few times to comfort her. The paladin gave him a reassuring smile and a nod. “Perhaps I should go find her, hm? Rather than admiring all of your fine works.” Roen rose from her seat, handling the sketch in her hand with care as if it was a prized, delicate thing. She paused by the door after she signalled the jailor, glancing back to the Sea Wolf. “Perhaps when you return to the Second Forte, you can draw one of your captain as well?” she said absently, her thought finally returning to the smuggler. It had been refreshing to visit Daegsatz without a thought given to that tumultuous relationship. But Roen reminded herself that she still had to find him as well. Ser Crofte first, to set his First Mate free. Then Nero, to set my own mind at ease.

Roen took the portrait with care in both hands. She took another moment to admire it, before mirroring Daegsatz’ grin with one of her own. “Nay, I think you are...not like any other I have met,” she said quietly as she regarded him with fondness. Her gaze drifted to the picture again in her lap. “And gratitude, for not drawing me on a ship. I do have some trouble with seasickness. And...lately I have not fared very well on boats.” She winced, but shook her head to dismiss those thoughts quickly. The paladin inhaled deeply as if to imagine herself on the beach. “But the view of the ocean and the sound of the waves...there is nothing else like it,” she said dreamily. “You honor me with this gift. I shall treasure it always.”

Roen held the pose as best she could for what felt like hours. It was not the stillness that bothered her, the meditation training with Gharen had taught her to let her thoughts drift and her muscles unwind. It was the fact that someone was actively studying her features that made her squirm. But all her discomfort melted away when Daegsatz held up the finished picture for her inspection. It took her breath away. The paladin shook her head with a grateful smile. “It is...wonderful,” she said in awe. Disbelief shadowed her expression as she shook her head slightly. Her eyes roamed about the face, the posture, and the scenery depicted within the sketch. While she did not say it out loud, Roen did not see herself in the woman he drew, but she want to be her. She was beautiful, with an air of grace about her and a sense of peace. “I will have to find that log,” Roen said longingly, imagining herself in such a serene moment. She gave Daegsatz a bright smile. “Or you can point out to me your favorite spots someday.”

Seriously!! Share your secrets!! That looks fantastic.

"What matter is this boy, then? You wish to help Ul'dah, that much I understand. There is wisdom in picking your battles. I cannot imagine making bigger enemies of the Syndicate will get you very far in life. You are known to far too many, and not all for the best of reasons." "If the situation deteriorates enough, a war will start. You understand this, yes? The Syndicate is too dependent on the sea trade to simply let go of it, and Merlwyb will not tolerate lawlessness in her city. What you are attempting to do will set up a powder keg. There is no telling if--or when--it will go off." "Anything that you are involved in is having political tension between two nations."

Whatever words of modesty or refusal Roen may have had, she dismissed it when she noted the Sea Wolf’s lethargy. His movements were weighed, and his speech dulled. Her sense of sympathy chased away any reticence, for the idea seemed to ignite a flash of motivation in the Roegadyn. Roen picked herself up and settled to a seat on the cot next to him. The paladin tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly wondering what to do with her hands. She set them onto her lap, then adjusted them twice awkwardly. “I never had someone draw me before,” she chuckled nervously and fidgeted. “Do you just want me to sit here?”

Roen knew that look all too well. The restlessness that seemed to both sap one’s strength and yet make them unable to sleep away the endless bells, the dulling of the senses, and the glazed look that settled over the eyes…she recognized it easily enough on the Sea Wolf. She had spent nearly a moon in the goals herself not too long ago, and even now she sometimes felt the suffocating effects of the thick stone walls and the static air. The paladin did not have the heart to tell Daegsatz that Ser Jenlyns Straightblade had not agreed to set him free. In their short meeting, the Captain of the Sultansworns had listened carefully as she pleaded the First Mate’s case. But as he added his own thoughts on the matter, it was obvious that Ser Jenlyns already knew of the Sea Wolf, either through Ser Crofte’s report or a personal account from Jameson Taeros. While he did not side with the Monestarist, the Captain effectively washed his hands of the case, and told Roen to have Ser Crofte reassess the need for imprisonment. This latter recommendation did give Roen some hope, that perhaps Coatleque would be easier to convince that Daegsatz did not belong in the gaols--especially when she saw it fit to let his pirate captain walk free. But Roen would not speak of it to the Sea Wolf, at least until she had some specific news to share. Instead she withdrew a glass vase from the basket, one that held a small bouquet of chamomile and lavender. She set them onto the stony floor next to the pile of parchments, taking a seat herself. “Lavender always reminded me of home,” Roen offered with a small smile. “And chamomile grows in Vylbrand?” It was her silent hope that the flower’s scent would soothe his nerves somewhat. She took up the sketchings, this time letting her eyes roam over them one by one, pausing to admire the details in them. “Are these of your home as well? Can you tell me about them?” she prodded quietly, her tone coaxing and unassuming.

Roen wrinkled her nose. Suddenly Daegsatz was starting to remind her a little too much of his captain. Roen cleared her throat, rising from her seat. The paladin dusted herself off and began to hastily empty out the contents of the basket onto the cot. She was not concerned about Nero’s health or welfare. Not anymore. Or at least..she should not be. Roen told herself this as she set the wrapped fish and waterskin aside. Wanting to be by his side. Hah! His ever-grating presence…who would want that? It was absurd. So then… Why was she so disappointed? “You are right, of course.” Roen agreed readily with the Sea Wolf, pushing her doubts aside. “I will do just that. Concentrate on my own objectives.” She nodded firmly and rose, empty basket in hand. She made her way quickly to the barred door; a part of her did not want Daegsatz to see the conflict on her face, or notice the regret in her tone. “I will figure things out,” Roen said out loud, as much for the Sea Wolf’s ears as her own. She signalled for the jailor.

“I…suppose…” Roen admitted reluctantly, still hesitant to fully relinquish her annoyance. “Caring about my well-being is…not a bad thing. If that is what this is! And if it is, he is going about it the most aggravating way possible!” It took two more huffed breaths before she realized she was just letting all her frustrations out on poor Daegsatz. His awkward expressions made it clearly plain that this discussion had made him most uncomfortable. Roen let out a long exhale, her anger beginning to deflate. “Perhap,” the paladin said with a defeated shake of her head. “Perhaps it is for the best. As you said, he is not alone. He has the entire crew.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if in protest. “Although even you did not really know what his plans were for that raid.” Roen snorted and crossed her arms. “He might be protecting the crew as well, to a degree.” The thought that Nero considered himself capable of orchestrating everything without trusting in anyone fully...his arrogance piqued her irritation once more. But she forcibly pushed her resentment aside. He's not even here before me. She would punish the Sea Wolf with it no longer.

Roen parted her lips to say something, then stopped. She just stared at Daegsatz for a long moment, incredulous. “For my own sake…?” she finally managed, clearly affronted. It was obvious. She did not understand the smuggler, at all. Or at least... There were so many sides to Nero that as he switched to whatever persona would dictate their interactions, it just left her in a dizzying spin. But if what Daegsatz’s had surmised was true, there was a part of Nero that actually cared about her welfare, not to mention her virtues--the very thing the smuggler had ridiculed and dismissed as impractical since the moment they had first met. Roen found that hard to believe. And yet… "...You can prove me wrong. Change Ul'dah from within. Change Ul'dah with the law on your side. Rub my face in the fact that I had drowned myself in darkness for no reason." Perhaps…there was some truth to the Sea Wolf’s insight. Perhaps Nero was just pushing her away. Roen found it infuriating, truth be told. “Does he expect to do all he hopes to do all by himself?” She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “And I do not need saving. If he thinks me a helpless girl who cannot decide her own fate, well, he is grievously mistaken. I need not his misplaced chivalry.” Even though indignation fueled her sentiments, the paladin felt the shadows of uncertainty starting to diminish within her. She would not yet again let someone else dictate her path--especially not some arrogant pirate who thought he knew what was best for her!

Roen’s face fell. She bowed her head, a hand coming over her eyes, her hiding her grimace. “You are right,” she grumbled ruefully. “Every time your captain does something, I come to you seeking advice. Or an outlet. I should not. I should be asking him.” The paladin let out an exasperated sigh. “But he shares so little! And now he has broken off our agreement. He wishes to work with me no longer. I am too unwilling to bend to his ways, his ideals.” “Our partnership lasted what...suns?” Roen let out a sorrowful chuckle as she glanced back to Daegsatz. “And you are in here because of it.” The paladin sighed, her frustration giving way to regret. She gave Daegsatz a helpless look. “I was wrong to think that he and I could achieve something together.”

Roen absently flipped through the pieces of parchment, though her eyes saw none of the detailed drawings on them. She was trying to keep her hands busy--no, her mind busy--but was failing miserably at it. Daegsatz was not being much of a help, which irked her...but she was forced to admit that it could have been just her own frustrations boiling over that clouded her judgement. The parchment was set back down with a quick slap, the paladin scowling. “It is probably best,” she blurted out without warning. “He and I never saw things eye to eye, anyroad.” She shot Daegsatz a sharper look than he deserved. “Your captain has his way of doing things and will brook none other. No council. No mercy. No reconsideration.” She released a sharp exhale through her nose. “He and I were never meant to work together. We would have never succeeded.” Even as she spoke them, Roen knew these were just words of anger fueled by bitterness. She thought proclaiming them aloud would make her feel better. It did not.

If I never needed a theme song for my bard...

Roen nodded--an empty gesture at best. After an awkward moment of silence she forced a redirection of her thoughts. These visits should not be about her, nor should they be about Nero. She was tired of dwelling on doubts, or on the void of uncertainty that was her future now. She wanted--no, needed--to distract herself with something else. “I confess, this is not the best view of Ul’dah,” she began with a forced but amiable tone. Her gaze drifted from the basket to the stack of parchment in the corner. She was avoiding meeting the Sea Wolf’s eyes. “Despite its faults, the city has a beauty all its own. I will show them to you one day, if you have not yet had the chance.” She rose from her seat, coming to kneel next to the drawings. She was grasping for anything else to talk about. “Your home is Vylbrand, aye?”

"An alliance between us… will not work. I have no use for those who cannot make the hard choices. Protect the people. Provide for them. Guard them from the wolves at the gates." Roen still could not accept the words that echoed in her memory. So...that is it? Nero had ended their accord without warning. He sounded cordial even, and he did it casually, over lunch. It had left her speechless, stunned. She obviously had more hopes invested in their partnership than he had. She felt a sudden emptiness inside, as if some vital essence had been ripped out and left her to bleed out without a purpose. It surprised her--not just what he did, or how he did it, but her reaction to it. When Roen entered through the barred doors of the gaol cell, she said nothing. She just greeted Daegsatz with a muted expression and a nod, making her way toward his cot and setting the basket of goods by his side. She just sank to a seat on the floor, her hands folded in her lap. The paladin stared at the basket for a long time before she spoke. Talk, Roen. Just talk. “I suppose you will be out of the gaols soon,” her voice sounded hoarse. “Either by your captain’s doing, or...perhaps if Ser Jenlyns feels generous.”

“I do believe he is a good man,” Roen replied quietly as she exited the cell. She lowered herself to a seat next to Daegsatz on the floor. “Else we would not be working together.” She wound the music box in her hand and laid it in the Roegadyn’s lap, letting out a weary sigh. She opened the lid again to allow the simple metallic chimes to fill the corridor, to lighten the dark mood that had fallen between them. It saddened her to imagine that Nero’s childhood had been so hard, but despite that he had smiled and laughed freely as a boy. Even though she had only known the pirate for a few suns, she found herself mourning the loss of that bright spirit greatly. Roen peered up at the Sea Wolf, some of the tension ebbing away. “And you do not need to apologize for him. I can take care of myself.” She rolled her shoulders. “Perhaps someday we can unearth what he is so desperately trying to hide.” She glanced at the music box once more, before she rose to stand. “I think Ser Serojon is getting impatient with us.” Roen gave a nod down the corridor to the Lalafell who was glaring at them with arms crossed. “I will leave the box here with you? Perhaps a small respite from the silence.”

Roen’s expression quickly soured at the mention of Nero, though she tried to hide it as best she could. “Ah. Nay. He and I…we do not do things like this.” She chewed her lower lip. The paladin turned toward his cell, crossed the threshold to retrieve the music box that had long stopped playing. She closed the lid, her fingers tracing the ornate metal carvings on it. “We mostly argue,” she confessed quietly. “Then we argue some more. I would think something like this would only bring about more ridicule.” Her eyes narrowed, as if steeling herself against the imaginary barbs that would await her in their next meeting. "He is an angry man, your captain." When Roen turned back around, it was with a forced, cheerful smile. “But I daresay, after today, you might be a bit more refined than he.” “Even though I know you will never speak of it.”

Dammit Nat. The trashy romance novel is Osric's I SWEAR. I am just holding it for him. In my book. Looking over what he highlighted.

Roen gave him a patient, warm smile. She tried to remember how her mother looked at her when she gave her these lessons. “I was a much poorer student at my first lesson,” the paladin reassured him. She stepped forward and lifted the Roegadyn’s elbow and held her own arm opposite his. “Think of it as a sword fight. You are crossing blades, just not quite clashing against each other.” She then changed her hand, and waited for him to do so, crossing her arm with his, like blades in battle. She did it thrice more in slow motion to allow Daegsatz to follow. “And then when the two meet and neither would give…” She held his arm up and hers, wrist to wrist. “Then you circle your opponent, preparing for the next move.” She slowly walked in an arc, and gestured for him to mirror her on the other side. “It is much easier when you are just matching your partner, the crossing,” she said gently. “And it takes discipline not to get tangled. It is about knowing your partner’s movements and countering them. Complementing them. Moving opposite from each other, but together.” The paladin smiled at Daegsatz as she went through the same motion again, slowly and deliberately so he could follow. She cared not for the exact details of his footsteps, only that he matched her. “It was the first dance I was taught, and it is still my favorite today.” She curtsied when they finished their circle.

Roen took both his hands in hers, delicately, and drew him forward a few steps. She matched his grin as she released his hands, although hers still hovered in the air in front of her. “My mother’s favorite dance was what she called salta. It was one of the first dances she taught me when I was old enough.” She could remember watching her mother and father as she hid behind the stair rails as a young child; they danced in the ballroom below, a heady combination of powerful precision and artistic passion. Her mother had moved effortlessly, gliding across the floor, the fall of her light silk gown barely caressing the marble as she spun about. Roen mimicked the movements as she remembered them. Her mother and father would cross their arms as they stepped to the opposite side of each other, their limbs never quite touching. Their eyes remained on each other, always, their heads turning in practiced synchronicity even as their bodies did the opposite. They stepped across and then back, then stepped again in the opposite direction, their raised forearms meeting in the middle--hovering mere ilms away from each other before parting again. Their hands would approach each other again, wrist near wrist, as the dancers slowly walked in a circle. Roen recalled the loving glances her parents shared, here in this: their dance; so public, so private. It seemed so long ago. “And you do not touch," she said, though her voice caught a moment, stranded on an isle of wistful remembrance. She continued, banishing from her mind the ghosts of times she could never bring back to actual life. "It is a matching and opposing movements in proximity without actual contact that defines the dance.” She paused, dropping her arms as she glanced to the Sea Wolf. “Now you try.”