Roen

I am in agreement with Wemrys. Since the lockdown, I have found myself being more proactive about reaching out to people, looking through the Looking For Connections posts here and on tumblr (and recently, thanks to Zhavi, also looked through recent changes in the wiki area). I've always sort of kept an eye out for new folks and poked some for RP over the years, but lately I've definitely taken more of an initiative in doing so. I am still finding plenty of people I've never met or RPed with. And I come across lots of names that I've never seen on either tumblr or RPC either that are RPing out in the world. Balmung is locked down because it is overpopulated. Surely there are plenty of RPers in that crowd that most of us haven't ran into! I do hope that Balmung will open up again sometime in the distant future, but until then, I think we still have plenty of avenues to meet new people here. New to us, not the server. We just gotta put aside our apprehensions (I know, I myself sometimes have a hard time doing this) and just poke people.

Bryn! Good to see you back, despite the fact that you are not going to share yourself with us NA people. :cry:

“This is…” Nabi’s eyes widened as she looked over the ornate fabric of white and red silks woven together. The embroidery in golden thread was exquisitely detailed as they curled and twirled in elaborate patterns throughout the dress. She glanced from the robe in her hand to the man who had gifted it. “This is quite beautiful. But entirely unnecessary.” Elam Grave gave her a pleased grin and shook his head. “But if you are to attend the All Saint’s Wake celebration as my guest, I'll see you properly dressed. You like the costume?” Nabi lowered the robe into the box it had been delivered in, taking care to fold in the sleeves as she did so. “Of course! I’ve never seen the like. I would assume it was just a beautiful dress.” Her hand went to the gloves that were also laid within the box, her fingers tracing the red cross that marked the length of it. The hat that was also folded within had similar design. “You say that this is a costume?” “Not exactly,” the Highlander’s smile was slightly twisted to one side. “It is a very close replica of the robes that are granted to Ishgardian priests.” “Ishgardian priests?” Both eyebrows shot up even as she reached for the teapot to pour her guest a cup. He had come to her clinic with a wrapped gift box and an invitation to an All Saint’s Wake celebration in Shirogane. “Is... that appropriate?” Elam gave her a wide roguish grin. “Why, All Saint’s Wake is all about dressing as something inappropriate. Beasts and creatures of darkness have one night a year to come out to wreak devilry upon the land. Why should our costumes not reflect such chaos?” Nabi chewed her lower lip in thought. She had come to learn the violent reception that the Au Ra received in Ishgard in the years past, and while much of it was a thing of the past, the disfavor she still received from some Ishgardian foreigners by way of subtle glances and avoidance was something that did not go unnoticed. A part of her however wanted to disregard all that historical decorum since it only represented wrongful perceptions and unnecessary restrictions; and yet… she knew religious beliefs held strong sway in the minds of many. Although she did spy some Hingans also taking part in the foreign celebrations and donning masks that would otherwise fly in the face of their worship to the kami. So then what was really making her hesitate in accepting Mister Grave’s invitation? He had been nothing but generous and friendly since he approached her stall many suns ago. “I do not trust strange, 'generous' individuals,” Tserende’s words suddenly echoed in her thought. Despite the fact that it was Elam Grave who told Nabi about the western holiday, and helped her get some of the rarer ingredients so she could attempt to make certain Ishgardian dishes as a surprise for Tserende, the meeting between the two men were cool and distant. The Highlander, who had been nothing but charming yet businesslike during their first meeting, was polite but aloof when Nabi introduced him to Tserende and left quickly soon after. And now here he was, inviting her to be his guest to a party. “No need to answer right away, lass.” Elam seemed to notice her hesitation as she closed the box. His expression was patient and his voice calm. “How goes the potion making?” He gave her a new grin. “Did you have a chance to study the samples I brought?” “Oh yes!” Nabi quickly brightened as she set the box aside. She rose from her seat to retrieve the collection of bottles on the shelf. She arranged them on the table in front of him. “This drug you brought from the west, it’s fascinating. It turns your skin as hard as steel.” She brought one of the smaller bottles up to her eyes for examination. “You say you have all the ingredients needed to make it?” Elam nodded, setting his teacup down onto the table and folding his arms upon it. “I do. The yield by our alchemists had been small and unpredictable at best. The effect is unfortunately short in duration.” He leaned onto the table, his eyes intent upon her. “D'you think you can make something that lasts longer? Maybe even increase the potency?” A slow smile emerged upon her lips at the challenge. “Perhaps. I think so, given enough time and all the ingredients. I can think up a few additional things I might be able to add to it to see if it is compatible.” Elam answered her smile with a broad grin of his own, his white teeth nearly gleaming as he did so. “Had a feeling that you would be one of those rare assets. An undiscovered talent in the East. I'm looking forward to seeing what else you’d be capable of, given the right resources. And if you’re successful with this task, I have many more projects that might interest you. And more rarer ingredients that I have access to in Eorzea and beyond.” Nabi could not deny that her curiosity was piqued by the proposal. To be able to work with reagents she had never seen before! To learn about alchemical formulas that others have created far across the world. “I can’t wait!” She beamed. “I am sure there are ways where both eastern and western medicines can enhance each other as well.” “I'm counting on that, lass.” Elam’s gaze on her lingered with a sly smile. He lifted the teacup to his lips to finish what remained before rising from the table. “Now, try on the dress and see if it suits you. I'll come by later to escort you to the party.” Nabi parted her lips to protest but the man walked out before she could say another word. She pursed her lips with a small furrow to the brow. The Highlander was certainly an insistent fellow, but at least the potions he had commissioned from her came with a generous pay. And he seemed quite benevolent, gifting her with rare figs, and now a beautiful gown. Still, something tugged at her in the edge of her thoughts that made her uneasy. Was it because she wanted to attend the party with a specific individual and Elam Grave was not he? Nabi shook her head and gathered the bottles again. She would just politely decline the invitation when he returned, since she did want to try and distill some of these new reagents he had provided her. But her gaze did occasionally stray back to the dress in the box...

Yes! Thank you to everyone for the great fun! The cast was wonderfully colorful as were the guests! I can also see that plenty of prep when into this. I felt like I was playing Clue: The Eorzea Edition. I enjoyed very much.

Signing up Brynnalia Callae! Who wouldn't want to go to a fancy dinner?

Oh! I am so going to try this out!!

Nabi sniffed the three leaves in her hand. Each one smelled of its own distinct flavor: one with a tinge of spice, another with the deep fragrance of the woods, and the last with the sweetness of molasses. They were whole leaves, pressed then dried but still managing to keep their leathery in texture. While they crunched quietly in protest as she squeezed them, they did not break. She pressed them in between her hands, rolling them thinly. Neatly arranging them diagonally on top of a wrapper leaf, she began to roll it carefully into a fulm-long tube. Finally, she held the finished product before her eyes for inspection, a proud smile rising to her lips. “Why are you even bothering?” Mimiyo broke the silence, her sharp tone wanting to break the Xaela’s moment of delight. Nabi placed the roll next to the three others that she had made. “They call them cigars. A bigger, thicker versions of the cigarettes that I made for Tserende.” She was not going to let Mimiyo dampen her mood. Just recalling how pleasantly surprised Tserende was at her gift, the corner of her lips lifted further. It still brought her joy to see him preferring it over the rest. “That isn’t my question,” Mimiyo scoffed behind the cup at her lips. “Why are you doing all this work for that woman.” Nabi turned from her work table, to face the Hingan woman who was seated in the middle of the room. As per their daily ritual, she had brought afternoon tea for them to share and found the Xaela making the cigars. Mimiyo was flabbergasted to say the least, when Nabi told her whom it was for. “I am not sure that Shael is using the medicines I gave her properly, despite my instructions.” Nabi tilted her head, some measure of concern furrowing her brow. “But I saw that she really did enjoy the cigarette that Tserende offered her, so if I hid the medicines in these cigars, she would never know she is actually taking some of the remedies.” There was smug twinkle to her eyes. The ceramic cup clanked upon the polished wooden table as the Hingan set it down somewhat firmly. “Need I remind you all the things that woman has done to you? And to our stall?” Nabi’s pursed her lips, her expression turning somewhat thoughtful. She rose from her table to come take a seat next to Mimiyo. She slid her hand upon the older woman’s and gave it a small squeeze. “I have not forgotten,” she said quietly. “But all is well. My ankle has healed, the potions from the purbol hunt made up for what was lost. And I don’t think she is ever going to try something like that again.” The Xaela tilted her head, golden eyes peering up at Mimiyo intently. “She has even taken a job with Tserende. Some honest work.” “You mean until her arm and hand has mended. Who else would hire her?” Mimiyo shook her head, disbelief clear in her critical tone. “I don’t know what you two are thinking. She should be in jail.” The older woman humphed and poured herself more tea. “You think she suffered those injuries doing honest work? People like her associate with criminals and the like.” "How do you think her arm was broken?" Tserende’s voice suddenly echoed in Nabi’s memory unbidden. It brought forth a small frown and the Xaela paused. It was in response to her asking him how he had encountered her after the incident at the market. It was such an off handed answer, that in that moment, Nabi’s mind refused to go to the next logical conclusion. Even now, a part of her was reluctant to accept it. “You trust his judgement, don’t you?” Nabi asked, clearing her throat. She poured herself some tea, suddenly the back of her mouth feeling dry. “Hmph,” Mimiyo exhaled as she brought the cup to her lips again. It was a reluctant concession. Nabi fell silent as she took a sip, her gaze lowered in thought. When she was summoned to the Bokairo Inn by Ushitora to help attend to an injured patron, never in a million years she would have thought it would be the very same woman who has been causing her all sorts of trouble for the last moon. But it had indeed been Shael Stormchild lying nearly unconscious on the floor of her room, her arm and hand badly broken. There was only a moment’s hesitation on Nabi’s part, in whether she should explain to the innkeeper of their sordid history. But there was no denying that the woman’s hand was in bad shape, and Nabi was never the one that could ignore neglected injuries. Despite the Highlander’s initial belligerence, Nabi somehow managed to talk her into accepting treatment, and reduced the angle of the broken bones. The Highlander barely sat still long enough for her to put a cast on the arm and hand, and adjust the length of the sling. The fevered look that used to burn in her eyes had given way to a tired sunken gaze, although despite the weariness that seemed to weigh her frame, Shael was determined to not relinquish her antagonistic nature the entire time. The awkward situation was only made more complicated when Tserende discovered that she was treating Shael and insisted on accompanying her for her next visit. There was a certain measure of tension between them early on, this Nabi noticed. She then learned that it was Tserende that had witnessed Shael’s “fall” -- the reason that Shael gave Nabi initially for her injuries -- and that he was the one who brought the unconscious woman to the inn. When all the coincidence of the events were laid out before her, the missing pieces seemed to take clear shape. Even if neither Shael nor Tserende wanted to tell her outright how it had happened, just examining the nature of the injury, Nabi could tell that it was no fall that caused it. And yet, she was still unwilling, not wanting to accept it. After all the scars she had glimpsed upon the man during their time in the lake, and the tales of hardships and injuries he had shared with her, a part of her still did not want to see the violence that was part of his history, and possibly part of his life still. Was she being intentionally obtuse in believing that his new life here would help him shed what was likely an ingrained part of who he was? “What shall you do when you do not like what you learn?” “Well, if this was just your idea, I would call you much too obliging.” Mimiyo’s prattle filtered through her senses again. “Just like your mother,” the Hingan woman added with a soft sigh as she set the cup down on the table. “But I suppose that mercenary of yours can keep an eye on her if she is under his employ.” Nabi flicked a glance at the woman, her pensive expression easing to a soft smile. There were small hints that Mimiyo was starting to approve of Tserende, ever since the Steppe incident. There was notably less criticism directed his way, and sometimes even an implication of unspoken trust. Nabi shook off whatever doubtful thoughts that wanted to linger and gave the Hingan woman another small squeeze of her hand. “Everyone deserves a second chance. A new start, yes?” The Xaela's smile broadened. “I think this will be one.”

There's definitely more people to meet on this server, even if Balmung is closed. I've been playing with the same people for like four years. Has my RP grown stagnant? It doesn't' feel like it, but I definitely understand the want of meeting new people. Everyone I've RPed with, it always started out with me PMing them and arranging a meet up. I think my method of meeting new players is still the same: read IC posts, look through the Player's Directory here, read through Making Connections area, and also combing through tumblr. The latter I should do more of, I'll admit. I'll also make note of those that just walk by with their RP tags on when I am running around. Then try to see if they have a wiki or anything anywhere written about them. I try to see if people are like-minded before contacting them. So there are people to be found! New not because they are new to the server, but because I've never ran into them! I think RP can become stagnant anywhere, whether the server is open or not, if you just stop looking to make those new connections. I will take the advice of joining more RP LSs and combing through wiki! I usually just look through wiki after I find someone interesting to scope out their character, but randomly reading them... I have not done this! I'll give it a try! Do you just... click on random? Go down alphabetically...?

It was the smallest little thing, a round seed pod that had prickly thorns covering the whole of it. Nestled just within the folds of the fabric of her clothes, it could have stayed hidden for many sennights. If left alone, it would have eventually started to sprout out tiny tentacles, possibly crawling out of its hiding place from her shirt when it got hungry. It was a fascinating prospect to consider, but Nabi knew if a purbol actually got loose within the port city, likely the Sekiseigumi would exile her for certain. With a metal forcep, she plucked the small burr from her shirt and dropped it into the jar, adding it to the small pile that she had already collected there. She had rubbed the oil that she had prepared onto both Tserende and Kiyokage’s armor, to make sure any remaining burrs on their equipment were neutralized. She could only imagine their chagrin should seedings with flailing appendages started to worm out of their armor. Their aversion to the tentacled creature was clearly evident, especially on Kiyokage’s face, and who could blame the Xaela? But she could not douse all of her curiosity, so she left one piece of her own clothing untreated, so that she could harvest a few viable pollen from it upon her return. She had counted at least fifteen individual seed pods already in the glass jar. Nabi paused and brought a lock of her hair to her nose, to give it a good sniff. She recalled with much dismay the memory of being soaked head to toe in the purbol’s secretions along with Tserende. The two of them were conversing while Kiyokage charged another purbol that was crawling near by. While Kiyokage denied it, Nabi could not help but think the Xaela warrior turned the beast toward them at the last minute as it spewed forth its plethora of excretions. Nabi made a face even at the mere thought of it, the smell was so foul that it had burnt itself into her memory. Luckily, she had prepared a solution for such an accident, although it had been intended just for the two fighters were putting themselves at risk. Who would have thought that she would be one of the ones steeped in the purbol goo? A soak in the Yanxian natural spring managed to wash it all off, the bubbles effectively cleansing away all the burrs and the unsavory juice from their skin and hair. Nabi bit her lip as she thought back to the scenery that was afforded with the opportunity. Even though she denied that she would be taking advantage of the situation to gawk at their undressed bodies, Nabi could not help but at least glimpse at what was readily in front of her. Kiyokage certainly was not the modest kind. She had already seen him at least half undressed to heal some of his wounds near his ribs. She was rendered speechless though that first time, at least for a few seconds, at the numerous old whipping scars that spanned his entire back. So she didn’t expect any surprises at the lake, but with the Xaela warrior taking everything off to change in and out of his armor, Nabi did turn her gaze away for the sake of some propriety. But it was a concept that Kiyokage clearly did not have any respect for. Nabi also recalled glimpsing Tserende’s body as well. She had told him that the nature of the wounds and the scars they left behind always told a tale, and that she was curious about the stories of the marks that marred his frame. Although as they sat on the top of a tall cropping of an island to allow their washed clothes and armor to dry, his answers to her questions had slowly began to paint the picture of a man who had previously devoted his life to nothing but his job. She asked him if such a lonely life was a conscious choice for him. He had said that it might have been. "Would you... still make that same choice? Now that you are here? Starting over?" It was a careful question on her part, but one that she felt a certain necessity in asking. "What reason would I have to not make the same choice?" he answered her while he studied her carefully from the corner of his eye. "What if someone came to care for you a great deal?” She had blurted it out before she could think. Before she could convince herself out of it. “What if... they didn't want you to leave?" Nabi could not recall how long he had stared at her after that with those steely blue eyes of his. There was a silence that fell in between them, and back then, she thought he would never answer. The corner of his eyes crinkled in consideration, and then without any words, he leaned in and kissed her. Nabi watched as her reflection on the glass jar become clouded over as she sighed. A dreamy expression had snuck onto her face, and her cheek had become flushed with the memory. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, her golden eyes focusing back onto the collection of purbol seedlings. There was a nervous and yet joyous excitement that quickened her pulse. With a renewed vigor she closed the jar and turned to soak her shirt, when a knock came upon her door. It was a messenger, who poked his head in with a friendly smile. “Miss Nabi, Ushitora would like to summon you to the inn. It seems there is a patron who is in need of your care.”

I think the thing that fell off is crawling away... you might want to check on that. Hello and welcome back! There are a few more active RP servers now about. Balmung is still very active, but it is closed for new character creation and transfers. As in, if you choose to leave, you can't come back. Just keep that in mind! Mateus is also a good RP community and I believe there is also a healthy presence on Omega for the European RPers. Most have suggested trying out the various communities by creating alts there, before committing for good, but it's totally up to you! I think all three communities are pretty happy. There are RP in other servers as well, but those three come to mind.

Some more Nabi adventures! "Even the thorniest of cactuars need water now and then." "I think you are unwell. And suffering. And looking for the answer in the wrong places." "Don't patronize me. I know what I need." “You don’t like to rely on anyone, do you?” "It's a dangerous prospect, is it not?" "Well... there they are. Purbols." "Aren't they gorgeous? Look at all those glands on top of their heads! Glowing! Filled with all sorts of things." "...Wonderful."

Wait-- Wha?? Why you mention me here? I've never labeled myself as a para-RPer. Put that label some place else! Although sometimes, yes, my posts during RP can be longer than others. And sometimes I respond with a "...." and nothing else. Whatever the situation calls for, really. And I don't mind long posts as long as they have some kind of a narrative point to them, and it is written out in a timely fashion. I don't like waiting five minutes for a response. I start getting paranoid and start sending tells going "Did you see my last post? Did it get lost...?" Although I doubt (I think) that Warren was referring to my style of RP... As for orbs and hues, yes, they do often make me take note of it, but I have yet to avoid playing with those players for that reason. But if certain personality traits like those that were mentioned above about those players emerge, I run for the hills. It just makes RP no fun! Let's see, to contribute to the original purpose of thread.. I sometimes take a look at their style of combat RP (not that I do a lot of those) if it comes up. It kind of shows how cooperative the player is when interacting with another. I take note when it is a give and take, and cringe when it isn't.

Nabi could feel the raindrops against her face. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, although she could not asleep. She felt each stride as she was carried, plodding footsteps echoing with metallic clatter of armor. It was a sound she had become well familiar with over the last moon. Whenever she heard it approach the stall, she found herself turning around with a smile in anticipation. She inhaled deeply and she could smell the distant scent of the mountains. It was brisk, although she no longer felt cold. There was a tinge of mint and sweet tobacco upon the wind as well. No... that wasn’t the wind. A muted heartbeat sounded against her right horn as she laid against his chest, protected behind the breastplate. The hold of his arms around her frame was strong yet gentle. She felt safe. Calm. “I’ve come to count on you.” She heard her own confession echo in her mind. “I knew you’d come.” Nabi woke from her dream, opening her eyes to squint at the shaft of sunlight that had found its way into her room. It was speckled by the pine needles sprouting out from the gnarled branch that swayed with the breeze just outside her window. It had been five suns since Tserende had retrieved her from the caves within the Steppe, and yet whenever she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine herself back there again. A house sparrow landed just outside her window to peer in, before hopping along the length of the branch to scratch its beak against the bark. She watched it for a moment, as another sparrow joined the first. They chirped and chased each other, before both taking flight again. Nabi rose from her bed as her eyes followed their pursuit. She paused as she noted the extra layer of blanket around her feet, and a teapot and cup laid on a tray nearby. Mimiyo had not stopped fussing over her since her return, and even Yoshinari restrained his usual grumpy demeanor, only looking in on her now and then with his stubborn frown in place. Nabi slid her left foot out from under the blanket, and was pleased to only feel a distant ache there. Her bones were mending quickly, thanks to the mandible powder, and the daily massages loosened her tendons. She was still using the cane for support, but her movement was improving every day. She considered herself lucky that the break itself was not a bad one, and that she had the sense to splint it right away. She reassured both Mimiyo and Yoshinari that she was doing much better, but they hovered still, their regard of her more attentive than usual. Tserende also made it a point to visit her daily, likely to check in on her as well. Nabi did little to protest, even though a part of her felt guilty for it. Was she taking advantage of his concern for her well-being to satisfy her desire to see him? “Your face would be a very comforting thing,” she had said to him when he asked about visiting her in the morning. He seemed skeptical of it, saying that none had ever said such a thing before. But it was true. She had grown fond of the light freckles upon his cheeks and his piercing pale eyes. As icy as they were, she did not believe they reflected the warmth of the man that bore them. "I depend on you, too. Whether I would like to or not, I think." Tserende had quietly admitted to her. Despite the frown that were etched on his face with that revelation, those words filled her with unexpected happiness. Such glimpses were rare, but precious when given. “You don’t like to rely on anyone, do you?” "It's a dangerous prospect, is it not?" Nabi bowed her head, a finger lightly touching her lips in thought. A small smile found its way beneath her fingertip as she recalled how he had embraced her, placing his chin upon her head as his arms wrapped around her. She stayed there, tucked against his chest, as the sun painted the sky in orange and gold, setting into the sea. “What shall you do when you do not like what you learn?” were his last words of caution when she reminded him she still wanted to know everything about him. “I already know what I need to,” she reassured him. “How I see you will not change.” “You will see,” Nabi murmured as she rose out of bed, echoing the quiet promise she had said to him.

Nabi wiggled her toes. The sensation told her her foot was intact, at least. But when she tried flexing her tendons, her ankle immediately protested. Nabi winced as she brought her foot closer, her thumb running over the splint she had made for herself. She noticed that her fingernails were slightly pale from the cold, and she fought the shiver that ran through her body. The heavy rain that had soaked the Azim Steppe all day had weighed down her robe, had plastered her hair to her face. By the time she had found shelter in the caves along the river, she was soaked to the skin. The sun had only peeked out from behind the clouds at sporadic intervals, the herd of rainclouds showing no sign of scattering as they drifted across the sky. Staying within the caves was safe. The warriors on their Yol mounts often took to the skies, and she did not want to be spotted as a lone Xaela traveler wandering the plains. While not all Xaelas tribes were belligerent, there were enough prominent ones -- including her own -- that Nabi knew better than to risk encountering them. Should I have just agreed to her demands? Nabi hugged her knees to herself as she recalled how she had come to be stranded in the Steppe in the first place. The messenger had come to find her in Kugane with an urgent yet cryptic news: that Tserende had been shot and badly wounded, and could not be moved. That he had sent a messenger for her to come to him with aid. Looking back on it now, Nabi knew there were questions that she had not bothered getting answers to, before she agreed to take the transport that was already arranged for her. Who arranged it? Tserende? And when she realized the destination, the plains of the Azim Steppe, she had more questions. Who would shoot him, out here? But by then, it was too late. She had already come too far, and she was not willing to risk not going to his side if he indeed was suffering from a dire wound. But all the warnings in her head proved to be true. There was no incapacitated Tserende at the end of her trip, only the Highlander woman who tried to steal from her at the market a few suns ago. She could tell from her bloodshot eyes, the redness around her nostrils, and the slight twitching to her movements now and then, that things were not well for her. When Shael Stormchild came to her stall over a fortnight ago, she had told Nabi that she had been trying to find restful sleep. While the woman did not relay to her all of what had happened, it was clear to the Xaela that the Highlander was suffering. There was a desperate edge to her that she tried to conceal with bravado and nonchalance. Nabi offered what she could, a special blend of herbs that she had concocted for sleep. But it too had possible addictive properties, especially if it was mixed with other drugs. Shael did not heed her warning. The woman who greeted her on the top of the peaks of the Steppe wore a frenzied grin, and she tried to bargain her a safe trip back to Kugane for more of her medicines. But she did not threaten violence nor did she ever wield a weapon. And a part of Nabi did sympathize with the Highlander, but she could not in good conscience give her more things that would help destroy her body. Nabi tried to reason with her, to offer her help to ease her off of all the toxins floating in her system. Shael refused, became angry, and left her on the cliffeside to reconsider her decision. What happened next was probably not the wisest choice that the Xaela could have made. She tried to climb down the mountain, but with muu shuwuus littering the mountainside, Nabi had to choose a less beaten path. She had never scaled a cliff before, but it seemed less perilous than taking her chances with creatures that would happily rend her to pieces. All in all, a broken ankle and numerous scrapes and bruises later, she still lived. But as she sat in the cave to wait out the rain that poured endlessly, she wondered if Shael would return a bell later, as she said she would. Would she try and look for her? Nabi did not want to face her again. The Xaela reached into her bag and retrieved a small vial of green potion and a wrapped linen package. She had left droplets of the potion along the river as she followed its course to the cave, in hopes that perhaps it would leave not so obvious a trail but a trail nonetheless. She had to leave some clues in case someone came looking for her. Despite all the uncertainty that led her here, and the fact that he was a foreigner and a sellsword for hire… she still did not doubt that Tserende would come looking for her. No more droplets fell as she tapped on the empty potion bottle over the edge of the creek. Setting it aside, she unwrapped the parcel -- something she had carried for over three suns now as a gift. A dozen small cigarettes that she had crafted with a mixture of tobacco and mint rolled in her palm. She dropped one into the river and watched the white bud float down the stream. Would he find them? She had to believe that he would. Another shiver ran down her back and shook her small frame. She curled her arms around her legs tight to try and preserve what heat she could. She could not risk a fire for attracting other Xaela warriors, and she dared not travel out in the open in case she ran into more beasts. She huddled by the river and tucked her head in her arms, hoping that the rain should give some reprieve and the sun would return to warm her even a little bit. She just needed to stay warm until she was found.

Nabi gently plucked one mushroom from the bubbling water, bringing it to her nose. She sniffed it twice before setting it down on onto a wire rack. They are ready. She grabbed a thick folded dishtowel nearby and lifted the pot, removing it from the firepit. She eyed the contents within, as the thin white mushrooms swirled and spun in the steaming water like koi at feeding time. She set the precious cargo down onto a placemat. She rose from her worktable to go light the lanterns within the room, for the sun had set and nightfall had arrived. The door to the clinic opened, and Mimiyo poked her head in. She sniffed the air once. “No brewing today?” The Hingan’s tone was one of surprise. It was true, there was rarely a sun that passed where Nabi wasn’t working on one concoction or another. “I’ve been at it all sun, truth be told.” Nabi gestured to the pot that was set to cool. “But these mushrooms don’t have a scent.” Mimiyo stepped in, her hands clasped behind her back as she approached the table to study the contents there. “It’s dusk and you are not even going outside. What are you working on?” Nabi spun around after lighting the last lantern, with a grin that grew from ear to ear. “They are special mushrooms called shibiretake. One of the rarest, I’ve only read of it before. It is said that they are only grown by a few enclaves of monks in secret, in the peaks of mountains I will never see.” The Hingan woman lifted her brows. “Oh? And how did you get such a scarce thing?” There was a moment’s hesitation, as Nabi pressed her lips together---a look that did not go amiss by Mimiyo. She crossed her arms with a pointed and expectant look, already silently chastising her even before hearing the answer. “I… might have gone to a... black market of sorts,” Nabi murmured. “Now before you start scolding me for it, I am fine! Obviously!” She spread her arms wide in display as if to reassure her. “I knew they had things I would never otherwise come across anywhere else. And I was right!” Mimiyo tsked, clear disapproval on her face. “Those markets are no place for someone like you, Nabi. Criminals, thieves, and who knows what else run rampant in such places! Kami be thanked that you came out of it unscathed!” “You can thank Tserende for it,” Nabi crossed her arms, defiant. “I was not foolish enough to go alone, after all.” The Hingan looked even less pleased, her eyes narrowing into slits. “That’s the foreign mercenary that you hired. You entrusted your safety to him? Have you’ve been keeping his company often these suns?” Nabi bit her lower lip as she gave the woman a small shrug. “And what if I have? He is a good man.” Mimiyo clucked her tongue. “How much do you know about him? He’s a sellsword! And a foreigner. You shouldn’t trust that lot.” “He is most considerate,” Nabi immediately objected, her tone sharper than usual. “If it weren’t for him, I would not even have these mushrooms. He insisted on keeping me company at the market because he knew, better than I, what to expect.” She frowned only momentarily, but her expression eased as she continued. “He is generous, and funny too. I think you would like him. But most of all… I trust him.” The Hingan regarded her for a long moment, her arms still crossed. But soon the lines around the corners of her eyes softened. “Is he the reason you have been even more merrier than usual?” “Have I?” The Xaela blinked, and her hand went to her cheek as she began to feel some warmth there. She did not bother to hide the smile that rose. “Perhaps.” “Hm,” Mimiyo said, her eyes once more narrowing critically. “Well, you will have to tell me all about it then.” The woman spun back to the door. “When I return with tea.” She raised a finger to silence any protest that might arise as she left. Nabi sank to a cushion on the ground, letting out a long exhale. “Did you tell her I am a decent man?” Tserende’s voice rose in her mind as she recalled that they had spoken about this very thing. That both Mimiyo and Yoshinari had been curious about the foreign Hyur who had been seen at the stall more than once. Nabi had made a joke to him in reply, but in truth, she wanted to say he was much more than just decent. She suddenly felt nervous as she imagined what she would tell Mimiyo. She and Yoshinari were the closest thing to family she had. "Do you have anyone you call kin?" she remembered asking Tserende. "I do not, no. I lived on the grounds of my last employer, before I was inclined to leave. I had since I was very young." His answers were very matter-of-fact; there was no hint of self pity or bitterness for what seemed like a hard and lonely life. But that was always the way it seemed with him. He always had a objective and unflappable air about him, even when he spoke of hardships of his home. So when she found out from Kiyokage that Tserende was mentoring him in techniques that potentially drew upon dangerous parts of the mind, his perspective was pragmatic, but reserved. “Mundane martial prowess only takes one so far. I'm not an accomplished user of the other typical measures to enhance or further my capabilities. I'm not an accomplished healer. I had to find something to preserve myself with, and this is what I was left with. I make do with what I can. Besides, I haven't gotten myself skewered thus far. That counts for something, yes?" Nabi suspected that Tserende downplayed the risk of it all, for her sake. It was more likely that Kiyokage was more accurate in hinting at how truly dangerous it could all be. And even he, for all his bluntness, had not told her everything. This was definitely something that she was not ready to share with Mimiyo. Nabi was not even sure she fully understood it herself. She rose and returned to the cooling mushrooms, picking them up one by one, laying them with care on a wire rack. "Would you like to know something in particular?" she recalled the last question he had asked her. "What would you say... if I said I wanted to know everything?" Nabi let out a long exhale. There were a thousand butterflies fluttering in her stomach when she had asked that question, and that same nervousness returned to her now. What was she anxious about? She already knew that Mimiyo would have all sorts of questions. Only she didn’t have clear answers to them. What would she say when she asked about Tserende? Or how she felt about him? A sudden opening of the door without warning made Nabi turn. It was Mimiyo at the entrance, and the woman wore a look of urgency and apprehension. “There is a messenger here for you. It’s about that foreigner.”

The dark lid of the ceramic pot was slightly lifted, golden eyes peering carefully at the contents within. A puff of steam greeted her nose first as the pressure trapped within was released, and Nabi could see the bed of green pollen seeds still bobbing up and down in the water. She set the lid back down over the pot, and bent to add a few more pieces of wood to the flame burning below it. “Do any of your potions ever have an agreeable scent?” Nabi turned from her small fire pit to the Hingan woman who had entered, a tray of teapot and cups in hand. The Xaela rose from her worktable and retrieved two silk cushions that were piled in the corner, setting them down on the bamboo floor next to the table set in the middle of the room. She lowered herself into a seat and patted the silk cushion next to her for Mimiyo. She gave the Hyur a bright smile in greeting, as the older woman sat and poured herself and the Xaela a steaming cup of tea. “It is buckwheat tea,” the Hingan asserted, although she frowned as soon as she took a sniff of the aroma pervading the room. “Not that you can smell it over your concoction there.” Nabi gave a small roll to her shoulders with a sheepish curl to her lips. “You’d think it odd, since the chaochu themselves have a flowery scent.” She paused before bringing the cup to her lips. “Did you know they can move very quietly?” Mimiyo shook her head and tsked at her as she took a leisurely sip of her tea. “Why do you bother going with those people you hire? You can give them pictures of what you need, and then have them earn their coin by letting them do what they do.” “You remember what the last Roegadyn warrior did? The mangled mess he brought back?” Nabi rolled her eyes to the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. “It was such a waste. Hardly anything was useable.” The Hingan narrowed her eyes in disapproval as she took another sip of the tea. “At least the last two hirelings brought you back in one piece, but you looked like a pig who had rolled all day in the mud! Did they have you wrestle one yourself in the rain?” Nabi paused before answering the question with her brightest and toothiest grin, then took another hurried sip of the buckwheat tea. To that, Mimiyo pursed her lips in scrutiny, and many lines appeared around her eyes and forehead. “And the foreigner that has visited the stall more than once…” the woman began with another cluck of her tongue. “Is he still working for you now or--” “Oh!” Nabi exclaimed, setting her cup down hastily. Her eyes were affixed to the window and the grey skies that had descended with the arrival of twilight. “Can you watch the pot and make sure it does not overflow? I will not be long!” Mimiyo did not bother to continue, for the young female quickly rose to her feet even before her plea was answered. She straightened her robe and hurried to her shoes, just giving the elder Hingan a quick bow as she headed on out. The Hyur rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement lightened the woman’s aged visage. It was still the same, even in her twenties, the Xaela’s love of certain things had never diminished. “When the darkness falls, do not be scared. Look for the fireflies, and you will not be alone.” Nabi sat upon the bench, her eyes searching the dimming skies. She released a breath into the night air as, one by one, they appeared: tiny motes of light, blinking idly as they flitted about. She could imagine some of them spinning and dancing, swooping low toward their reflection on the koi pond as if to show off their skills. Then one firefly descended just in front of her nose, hovering there as if to study lantern’s light that reflected off of her pale eyes. Nabi exhaled with a smile and lifted a single finger, upon which the tiny glowing critter landed, and stretched its wings. Its body still pulsed with a soothing green light, as if pleased by the attention of the Xaela woman. A smile found its way to her lips as she brought her hand closer, slowly and carefully as to not scare the perched visitor. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to marvel at the shy yet radiant little thing. It always took her back to the first time she had laid her eyes on them. It was just after nightfall, when the tall blades of grass swayed and rippled like the sea across the plains of the Azim Steppe. She had been crying, afraid and alone, waiting for her mother to return. At first, when the lights appeared all around her, she thought that the moon itself had dusted the fields. But when she blinked her tears away, she saw the countless fireflies rising up from the waves of the meadows and quickly her sniffles gave way to a sigh of wonder. It’s been twenty years since. But even now, in the tranquil embrace of the city like Kugane, watching fireflies emerge to begin their nightly dance always brought her a measure of peace and joy. And it was that feeling that she wanted to share when she had brought Tserende here just a few nights ago. He had commented on the peaceful nature of it, but remained a restrained observer. She recalled him suggesting how she should try and enjoy it more, rather than taking in the beauty for himself. Such a serious fellow, she reflected. Ever courteous but with a certain discerning way about him. Still. There were cracks in that wall of indifference that surrounded him, and she had been fortunate enough to get a few peeks in. Nabi could not help but chuckle though, recalling those moments where certain looks would rise upon his face: when either he was giving her a skeptical eye or a wary glance, or that “wet cat” expression whenever the rain started to fall from the sky. “Can you make certain that the skies are free of rainclouds the next time we meet?” Nabi whispered into her palm, upon which the firefly responded with a slightly brighter twinkle. She smiled wide and raised her hand, her winged friend taking flight toward the heavens with her wish. She watched it spin and twirl, before joining the rest of its kin and the glimmering landscape. She spent another blissful bell of watching the skies slowly darken, countless stars also making their appearance to illuminate the night. Then something began to tug in the corner of her mind, as if she had forgotten something. Something important. Nabi’s eyes slowly widened. The chaochu pollen distillation! She bolted to her feet in a panic. Oh, the scent of it would be thick in her clinic! Would Mimiyo still be there after all this time? A shameful wince twisted the Xaela’s face as she could already imagine the exasperation etched clear on the Hingan woman’s visage. Dusting off what grass lingered on her robe, she darted down the street, veering toward Kugane Dori. Perhaps... the gift of a tempura platter would ease the woman’s ire upon her return.

Twenty-five years ago… The battle was over. Dark red blood dripped from the end of his greatsword as the booming horn sounded in the distance. Chagur Jhungid stared at the Xaela that lay writhing on the ground before him, his hand grasping the shoulder where his arm had been severed. Lifeblood spurted angrily from where it should have been, and Chagur knew the fighter was not long for this world. He had decided at the last minute to relieve the Kharlu warrior of his sword rather than his head, but it had only really bought his opponent a few more breaths to gaze upon his killer, as death’s oblivion came for him. A pity that it had been only seconds later that the battle was declared won. Chagur did not yet know which side was victorious, only that the time for fighting was over. Had he faced this adversary in the middle of the field, perhaps then a healer could reach him in time to save his life. But they were partly separated by large boulders jutting upwards from the ground, where the warrior had retreated to seek higher advantage against Chagur. It would be to no avail. Neither the Jhungid nor the Kharlu believed as the Dotharl did, that they would return once more to this world in another body. The life lost on the battlefield would be their final end. It would be their ultimate sacrifice for the glory of their people. It used to fuel his blood, the impending peril as he faced his enemies, year after year. But as Chagur looked around the battlefield, the bloodied bodies that were littering the landscape no longer represented a scene of a glorious courage. As the cries of feral brutality and agony still echoed through the air, he knew that it would soon be followed by sounds of wailing mothers and lovers, as they came to claim those they have lost. The tip of the greatsword lowered to the ground, as the fallen Kharlu warrior drew his last breath, and his movements stopped. A large crimson pool surrounded his body, as it slowly seeped into the soil that would wear the stain for many suns. “May the Mother guide you beyond this life,” Chagur prayed quietly. It was then that a searing pain ripped through his gut, robbing him of his breath. Only upon seeing the speartip protruding out from his stomach, did he realize too late that he had lowered his guard. The battle had been declared over, although never before had he been foolish enough to assume that the rest abided by it as he did. Many eager young warriors often sought out one last strike against their embittered enemy. Chagur spun around at the same time the spear withdrew, one hand reflexively going to the wound to slow the bleeding there. It was not a fatal wound yet, and he would only need to defend himself for a little longer, before his tribe’s healers would be able to spot him. All he needed was to strike down the spear wielder. But when he looked upon his adversary, something made him pause. It was a vision, for surely it was not possible to see the face that flashed before him now, here, on the battlefield. In a blink of an eye the ghostly visage of a woman faded, leaving that of a fearsome male Xaela instead. Chagur's arm lost but a second with his hesitation, his greatsword falling short of a strike that would have cut across his enemy’s chest. The massive Kharlu warrior leaped back out of reach in that half-heartbeat of a moment, then lunged again with his weapon. And this time, the spear found its mark. Chagur saw his own blood spray out of his mouth as he fell to his knees, then fell back, limbs heavy, onto the dirt. He felt his own lifeblood leave his body in great pulsing gouts, as his killer stepped forward to loom over him. Once more the vision returned even as darkness fell. There were the golden eyes that were so familiar and comforting. As his last breath left him, Chagur could imagine in the distance, her cries of sorrow. He prayed to the Mother to watch over her even as death’s oblivion took him. Years later… “You dare walk out on me, Chanai?” Tugan’s voice was booming, and it shook Chanai to the bone. She was convinced that his rage echoed well beyond his yurt, although none dared to enter the abode for the fear of his wrath. Chanai forced her back to straighten as she turned toward him, her golden eyes rising to meet that of her brother’s. While their pale yet warmly-hued gaze made them easily recognizable as kin by blood, that is where their similarities ended. Chanai was a slight figure with black hair and slender horns slicked backwards, whereas Tugan was one of the tallest of the males, with thick onyx horns that jutted forward. His frame was that of a chiseled warrior, and he wore his battle garment with strength befitting his formidable size. Where she mended wounds and soothed pain, he excelled in the martial arts, relishing especially in killing and violence. He was a highly valued member of the Kharlu for his battle prowess, as anything that gave the tribe advantage over their nemesis, the Jhungid, was given much reverence. None dared cross Tugan Kharlu, especially those of his blood. So when he came upon his sister’s carefully packed stash of supplies, containing cured meats, jars of preserved fruits and dried herbs, he had confirmation that his long held suspicion was true. That his sister had planned to leave the tribe that had been their home for all their lives. And Chanai could see that he could barely contain his anger, and not strike her where she stood. Even when she did not deny his accusation. “I cannot abide by our ways any longer, brother,” she said quietly. She was surprised when she heard her own voice, calm and steady. She had to do this, for her child. “I cannot stay here.” Tugan's nostrils were flared and his lips downturned with loathing. The flickering flames within the tent threw fearsome shadows upon his visage; but his pale eyes remained lit within his dark silhouette and pierced her through like a spear. “You never had the heart for our way of life. You were born a whimpering whelp. If it was not for me, you would have been relegated to caring for the newest captives, as their wet nurse.” He spat on the ground. “Instead you are a respected curer amongst the tribe. And this is not good enough for you?” Chanai clenched her fist at her side, her chin tilting upward. “You had nothing to do with the work I’ve done. You have never worked to preserve a life nor heal what was broken. All you aspire to do is soak the land in blood in the name of Kharlu.” And bask in the glory, she wanted to add. The tribe had their own ideals on why they continued to fight their nemesis, why the yearly war was necessary. But she knew better of her brother. It was a means to quench his thirst for what he enjoyed the most: seeing his enemies fall at his feet. She would not have her child grow up under such influence; Nabi would not take part in the Kharlu’s warring way of life. Her daughter would not know the depths of the sorrow for a love lost. A hiss of breath through his gritted teeth warned Chanai that her brother’s temper was nearly at its peak. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, but she dared not move. She wanted to take flight, like a rabbit who had just caught a wolf’s scent upwind. But she knew if she were to flee now, her brother would draw his weapon and cut her down. The silence that fell between them was nearly suffocating. He took a step toward her, standing three fulms above her head. His fingers opened and closed, hovering next to the short sword that hung by his belt. “Go,” rose a rumble from Tugan’s chest. His fingers had stopped moving. “Leave my sight and never return.” Disgust ran thick in his voice. “I will no longer see you as my blood. You will be a traitor. A deserter.” A stuttered breath left Chanai’s lips, and the woman had to hold herself from collapsing to the ground in relief. She took a slow step back, then another, from the menacing frame that was her brother. She had to be sure he would not change her mind and unsheath his blade when her back was turned. When he remained still as stone, she gave him a bow. “My thanks to you, brother. You will never see me again.” She turned, ready to flee the tent as fast as her feet would take her. “On one condition.” Tugan’s voice cut through the heavy night air. “Leave the child.” That froze Chanai in an instant. The hand that was reaching for the entrance dropped to her side, and the woman turned, new fire in her eyes. “Nabi is my daughter.” “She belongs to the Kharlu. Even if she carries the tainted blood of her sire.” Tugan’s hand was now resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression twisting into one of triumph. Even in this, he would claim his spoils. Chanai was caught speechless at the revelation that his brother had known about Nabi’s father. It was a secret she had never dared to share with anyone. “And you still let me live? All these years?” Chanai whispered hoarsely, seeing her brother in a new light. She had never suspected such familial loyalty. Tugan sneered, his grin gleaming and frightening as it split a white fissure across his dark face. “Half of her carries their blood, and yet she is of Kharlu. She is mine. You tell me, who is the victor?” Of course. Chanai quickly chided herself for suspecting any pity from her brother. It is not about loyalty. It is about power. It always has been. She felt all of her muscles tense, and the Xaela stood there rigid as her thoughts whirled with turmoil and grim determination. She lowered her head, her hands clasping in front of her. “If I leave her, you would let me go? You will not hunt me down?” Tugan nodded once but firmly. “I will grant you this one mercy. Dusk Mother would weep should I would raise blade against my own kin so easily. But your cowardice will not make two deserters of our blood. Carry your own sins with you into the wind. I will see that she bears none of your crime.” Some of his wrath had faded, his voice now only rumbled like distant thunder. “And you swear, you will take good care of her?” Chanai felt herself tremble again, as did her voice. “I swear by the Mother.” Chanai clenched her fists so tightly by her side that she nearly drew blood. She bowed again, deeply from her waist. “Be the father to her that she never had, Tugan. Farewell.” She stifled a sob and spun around, running out of his yurt. Her brother did not stop her. She sprinted to her tent, paying no heed to anyone else staring at her. Loud rebukes coming from her brother’s yurt were not unusual, as was the scene of his sister retreating from it in tears. Others would let her be, and would allow solitary meditation for at least the rest of the night. The fabric to the tent’s entrance was thrown open as she rushed in. She immediately went to all of the little packets that she had been hiding away in different places within her yurt. He had found the largest collection but not all of them. Not the small mementos like a carefully woven bracelet of gold and silver threads, and not the spare clothes that only a child could wear. Chanai had never explicitly lied to her brother before. She knew he believed her; that she would leave Nabi behind. But he knew nothing of true love. Else he would know that her life mattered not if she could not save that of her daughter. Chanai would leave the Kharlu that night. With her young sleeping daughter in tow. Even if it meant a death sentence upon her head for the rest of her life.

Some screenshots time! I thought I'd post some of Nabi's adventures. A hunting we will go! The chaochu should be around here somewhere... "How the hells does something that big get so quiet?" "Perhaps you simply didn't hear it, with that helmet." The ride back was no less harrowing. But all was well, when she returned to her favorite place in all of Kugane.

Yeah, posting questions for the person below you does work. Warren and Firely confused me initially... >___> 1. Elezen. They seem so much taller, surely they have a better view up there. 2. Settle down to a quiet neighborhood in the Lavender Beds with a family of her own. She would not admit this currently. 3. Easy, Voidsent! Garleans can be misunderstood and not all are bad. 1) She decided earlier on that she wanted to be a "knight" that protects people. 2) Before she got her wooden sword and shield (which really aren't toys) it was a wooden carved horse. 3) Taking long leisurely hot baths. She only feels guilty about it because she could be doing something else more productive. She is usually not the type to indulge in anything for too long. She does not do this often. Okay! I will leave the last three questions from Taejin for the next poster!

I think y'all are in a loop EITHER way. o__O How about just ask 3 questions to anyone participating in the thread? Okay I will ask the OP 3 questions: 1) What were your childhood aspirations? 2) Favorite toy as a child? 3) Your character's current guilty pleasure.

Thumbs up for this!

Ooh your style is lovely! Here, have a highlander! https://imgur.com/a/rHT1r

Changed out one of my alts in the list of characters, and linked each name to their wiki!

Welcome back, Tiergan! I always do love seeing your art.

I only left one question.