Ryanti

It was amazing how the pacing of the people aboard the deck slowed down so much in such little time all because of one command. If there was a best example of the term ‘at ease’, this had to be it. It was no question that perhaps the event itself this day would be talked, joked, and bragged about for the next few nights in the mess hall. A lot had happened in that simple drill. The metal plates on Forty-three were sewn to his skin in a manner that was very precise and was probably done at the hands of a sophisticated chirurgeon. Perhaps someone he knew back in Sharlaya. He was too vain, and perhaps too concerned for his scalp to have shaved his head after those plates. So what resulted was locks that hovered over the plates on the side of his skull which hid the pieces of metal over a light Auburn curtain. It was one of these plates where on both sides the skin was welted but the plate was not bent or dented in any way. This was where the Lalafell got smashed in the face. “Oh thank you. But you only did what you thought you had to.” Forty-three said, gently taking his hand and allowing himself the assist to get back up on his feet. He gave himself a little shiver and rubbed up his arms with his own hands to calm himself, glancing up at the two individuals in front of him. “Sometimes I realize just how much more difficult it is to pace yourself with spells when you do not have a channeler. I believe all magi have their moments when they understand how much they rely on their staff or stave or what have you.” Because his head was aching, the lalafell place a concerned hand upon the side of his head. “Perhaps in the past I could be able to stand a blow like this before my … well, these plates see? Magic can always be just as dangerous to the user as to his enemies.” He said quite clearly with a sigh, speaking slowly because of the throbbing pain. “Now then… how about I… make some tea for everyone after my check up? Before I get chewed out by my superior?” Eighty-five was as still as a statue. She had that one arm over her head, and she was completely still right in the spot where Jada laid her out on her ass. Ah well, at least she was able to get in a few hits herself? Yes, that was right! Jada’s face didn’t look the same! Take that you! Still, it wasn’t enough to remove the rather exaggerated frown on her face. Her temperamental mentality of being the best bitch in the business had been overruled by a quartermaster. Sheesh. But she didn’t hate her or anything. On the contrary, she thoroughly enjoyed the contest despite losing in the end. When Jada asked her the golden question, the frown turned into a devilish smirk. “Hmph! Of course I can!” She retorted, swinging the arm off of her face and rolling onto her knees, dusting off her shoulders and giving her a thumbs up. “Your hand-to-hand is like my mirror, like you’re a sister from another life or something! So I’ll declare right now: anytime, anyplace, rematch!” She exclaimed, balling that same hand up in a fist and smiling through the bit of blood on her lip towards the other woman. “And I’ll make sure to keep you alive until that time comes, sister!” The leader of the splinter faction was surveying the scene around him. If it was not for this being Sounsyy's, he would be the one calling the orders. Sometimes it was challenging to avoid that instinct. But he knew his place for now, and kept his mouth closed. Instead of shouting orders, he focused on examining, by visual, the well-being of each member of his crew. It was customary for each member of the unit, when they first meet, to explain to the assigned squad leader of any unusual ailments or conditions they might be privy to, such as the vulnerability of Forty-three’s head. While there were several beads of sweat on him, the man did not seem too tired at all. For him, it was a switch. The warrior came, the warrior dealt, the warrior was gone, and Jonathan was back. His rugged smile reawakened in the presence of the Captain’s flattery. To Sounsyy, his facial expression was radically different from the one she had seen during her fight with him. In subtle ways. “So. We share a common homeland, do we? This is interesting.” He murmured, with a stroke or two of his chin. “You will find that the remembrance of our people will climax with the return of our city to its rightful hands. However, that is neither of our intentions at this moment in time. I was raised from the fire and ashes of war, and was tasked with shaping soldiers into pillars of steel.” He made a thinking hum from his lips after hinting at his past as a drill instructor. “However, this is different from open war. And as you know, sister, it requires different methods of shaping.” Jonathan did not line his men up and scream at them anymore. He did not try to break them anymore. That part of him was mildly humbled after he was captured by the Garleans. After what they did to him and what they made him do. When he had escaped, with nothing to show for it except for hundreds of well-placed permanent cutting scars all over his body deeming from past experiences of torture, he had grown weary of distancing himself from his own humanity. He had turned away from that life after so many years of being molded into an absolute killing machine, until he was called back to serve the greater good again. This time here. “You set an extremely high bar for my men to meet. We WILL meet it. But in the end, that is why Sharlaya picked this crew. It promotes pushing one another to be the best they can be. We will need that practice and encouragement to weed out our flaws. Now you have a much better sense of what those flaws are, Captain. I expect you to assist us in phasing them out.” Meanwhile, the young Veanysus tried to focus his vision until the blurriness went away. It was only the soothing touch of Cwaenlona’s care that finally made his heart rate go down. The blood stopped a minute or two after, and he closed his aquamarine eyes. There wasn’t much to dwell on what happened, as memories during times of strife was one of the more difficult ones to recall in vivid detail. He was tired. Sore. The cuts that had been given to him during the vicious fighting were still burning, and that kept him from becoming drowsy over his fatigue. His breaths were loud, but calm. He was not stubborn to be given care by Cwaenlona like some young men would. He fully welcomed her methods. Ryanti cared much about his body, and never wanted it to forsake it because of pride. He could taste his blood as he swallowed while his head was tilted back. It tasted like warm, salted iron. It disgusted him to a degree, but also let him know that he tried his best. His arms felt very cold being rubbed down, but he didn’t want to see the blood on them again and smell that smell. He preferred not to. “Thank you Cwaenlona. You’re like an angel.” He said to her quietly and with sincerity after she patched up his most grievous wound and wiped the dried blood off of his arms. The maintenance on his cuts had to wait for the infirmary, but the piece of gauze taped to his nose would take care of that wound. A few calm breaths later, and a gust of wind with more energy than usual flung his dampened hair about, but did not affect the stare of his vibrant eyes towards the darkening clouds over the horizon. “A … storm is coming… isn’t it?” He murmured to the medic as several other members of the crew helped him up to his feet with a little bit of help from the young man himself. “I will be ready. For anything that comes my way.” He said after, in a combination of reassuring them, and reassuring himself. Jonathan squinted his eyes and examined the young man from where Sounsyy was after she made the comment about him being sick, which immediately raised a cause for concern in the Ala Mhigan’s eyes. The word sick was not treated by that unit lightly. Rarely did the word sick ever mean a normal illness in their line of work, and one of Jonathan’s important jobs was to make sure the kind of sickness he was thinking of would never happen. “You told me before that he challenged you on his own time.” Jonathan mentioned, and after a brief pause he continued. “He must have done so before he was cleared. Our Keepers are the most vulnerable to the side effects that come with handling artifacts that are thick with the residual energy of the past. Sometimes the aether like to leak into the skin and take refuge within the body. We are only made to carry so much within ourselves. If too much foreign aether takes hold within the body, they become saturated with aether and become aethersick. It is still not fully understood what it exactly does to the body, but what we know, thank the Twelve, is that if one simply spends time away from this occupation, the aether tends to dissipate over time, and the body is able to fully recover. That is the primary reason why we have large gaps of time off, among other things. It is a decent return for how dangerous this is.” Jonathan took the waterskin from the happy little Qiqirn and watched the go-lucky individual hand them out to the group where Ryanti was, who seemed very happy at receiving some water. Of course the person who was the most happy was Eighty-five, who hugged the giddy creature. “He disobeyed orders by fighting you the first time. He was not fully recovered. In most cases, becoming aethersick can drain you of energy if you physically exert yourself. But that is not always the case. Sometimes it is the opposite.” He let out a little snort. “Reminds me of how I was, actually. He values people over governments. Ideals over orders on paper. Most Keepers tend to be that way. They are the only ones in our branch that volunteer to be in it.” The older man watched as Ryanti began speaking to the others that he had fought. He was complementing them, and asking questions about their methods of fighting and tips about how he could do better against them. He was also shaking their hands, making sure to do so to everyone he crossed paths with during the drill before being urged to get to the infirmary, wincing a bit at the pain of his open cuts upon the open air. Jonathan spoke as Sounsyy kept her eyes on him. “You have nothing to fear, Captain. He is not sick. The first sign to look for is if the very blood in his veins become illuminated. When his veins light up. That is the first symptom. I see no such thing on him. It is also incredibly rare for that sickness to return on just one mission. It takes several chains of missions before it begins to come back.” He smirked a little bit. “He just fought a little harder than his body was prepared for. His focus could use some work, and he got really sloppy at the end, but he showed a lot of heart. Did you say something to him earlier?” As Ryanti was being guided to the infirmary, he eyed Sounsyy Mirke one last time. The corner of his lips curled into a bit of a smile, but his eyes had defiance in them. When he turned his gaze away, he became despondent. Softly, he asked the medic as he was stepping down the steps “Am I still just a boy to this crew? Is that all I am to her?”

Ryanti felt a warm embrace take him over upon that mast. But it was not the type of heat welcomed by his body. It was a hot pain, as if he had swallowed fire from a shot glass. It sunk into his stomach and latched onto his innards as if it was a parasite. Empathy was not always a positive feeling to the one suffering from it. Very often it was a painful experience. Like her words. Her words sounded so sad. It was like she was advising Ryanti not to do something. Not to continue to walk on the path that he was. He felt like there was something more besides those dead eyes of hers. He knew it because he felt it. Her body was warm, and her heart was beating. Even in the one place of her body that was most physically ravaged. Was she telling them this because she had lost something and did not desire him to? Was she taken over? Taken over by something to make her eyes wilt and die? Or was she just simply saying it because she thought he was crazy and that she wanted no part of sharing the insanity… He saw her glance at her finger. He glanced at his own. They were healthy and even though there had been a blister or so in the days of hauling rope and rigging sails, they were already healed well enough. He gripped his hand into a fist, hard enough so that blanched white spots decorated the inside of his palm. He was like her now with a spot of blanched white skin. But it disappeared within moments. How would he have felt if he had glanced at his hand and saw a finger missing? But he knew that Sounsyy was not thinking about that. She was staring at her hand. The hand she now despised. Though now… she was staring at nothing. Staring at the past. Not the past that they were both dreaming about though. The young man nodded slowly at the notion of more work. There was always work to be done no matter your state of mind. Every day there was something new. Ryanti also understood that every day had a chance for the same old thing though. He watched the Captain as she made her way down the mast but he didn’t bother to move. Not yet. His eyes followed her form as she gingerly made her way down. Perhaps once or twice more than what was allowed of him. He noticed the itty bitty signs of struggle since she only had one good hand to use. He felt like he could do nothing. Like he was helpless. “What about new memories?” He said, as if she was still next to him but she of course wasn’t. He had instead said it to himself. Almost as if to ask Azeyma herself. Ryanti was not always the most faithful young man. He could not find it easy to believe that he always had someone to go to when he felt like he needed it. He almost never did. His fingertips gripped onto the bits and pieces of the mast that he could get a hold of when he decided to go. As he made his way down, Ryanti felt the emotion from being up there on the pole leak up into his throat. He felt his teeth clench as he began to talk to himself, or perhaps someone else besides himself. “If Azeyma is the Goddess of Inquiry, then can I ask if I am worthy of this place? If there is someone out there watching me do what I do, then please tell me if I am doing it right. If the rising sun across the ocean is the last gift I will ever receive, then what can I do to beg for the gift of strength?” She told him that dreams could be the last thing that makes you you. But what was Ryanti to these people? A number? Was he himself just a number? He did not know who he was, or what he was about. He had clung to this adoration of ideals, a pyramid of values, principles, conviction and pride. But who was he? Neither Midlander, nor Keeper of the Moon. Never at the right age, and never at the right time. He had a significant family, yet belonged nowhere within it. He had wealth and privilege, but the countless hours spent in tutoring when he was a preteen and the cold feeling of gil coins in his hand felt as empty as his identity felt in his heart. Who was Ryanti? A young man that dreamed too much? Wanted too much? Was he just a number serving a cause? His number was for his missions, but he did not want to be known as a number to people. He wanted to be known for being him. But was it okay to be him? -- The day went on for a while like normal. He found himself working by the Captain but felt like he was unable to speak much further. Silence was golden at times. All during the morning, while Eighty-five and Forty-three were yanked upon the deck and joined in seldom idle conversation, Ryanti’s thoughts were mostly occupied on what Sounsyy had mentioned to him atop of the mast. These recent days had placed a lot on his mind. He could afford to do the routine tasks he had been rigorously instructed to do rather well without thinking. He just followed the whim of the Captain. For someone who was learning, he was coming along. While he was far from a natural at it yet, he was able to efficiently predict a lot of the routine procedures. But he noticed just how much quieter things were on the ship. Sounsyy’s first comment to him about heading into hostile waters confirmed his suspicion. So they were in enemy territory now. Outside of the safety of their nations. The open sea was no longer supposed to be friendly, but just another obstacle to overcome. There was no one out here to watch over you. It made more and more sense that it was the case. He hoped he was wrong. He had hoped that Azeyma, Llymlaen, even the willpower of the ancient Allagan aether that clouded their cargo were watching over them. It was as if Nyemia was saying that it was their fate that they see this through. He held onto that hope. He had glanced at his unit working along with the crew in the morning light. In his ears he absorbed Sounsyy’s lecture, his face contorting into a bit of a frown as she mentioned his unit. Fractured group. Danger to her group. This and that. He was beginning to notice a pattern that they were always seemed to be blamed for everything bad that she had to deal with. What the hell was he doing here… Jonathan seemed to have no such thought pattern. To him, he belonged here just as damn much as anyone else on his ship did. In his mind, assignments were assignments, and you were expected to work with your co-workers or die looking like unorganized dunces on the edge of dying from stupidity. He raised an eyebrow to the second whistle, his nose twitching a bit as he stood to attention along with the rest of the group. He was the first, and at wits about himself, the others following not too shortly after. When Ryanti glanced to see the Quartermaster’s strong blue eyes coming from below deck, he blinked. He had never seen her before in such bright sunlight. Based on Sounsyy’s dialogue about their roles and the time that Jada made herself known aboard the deck, nearly all of the unit concluded that this was planned. They had managed to learn from the past; expect something from this crew if something appears premeditated. So Ryanti managed a fair amount of steps towards the rest of the group as they all got closer to one another while absorbing the information the Captain was giving them. When each of them received their swords, Ryanti twirled it a bit in his hand to get a feel for it. Eighty-five grinned in the reflection of the blade in her hand, as if to see if her teeth were clean. Jonathan simply eyed it down with the same kind of excitement a Roegadyn would get from going shopping and picking up a boring can of beans. He neither felt it out nor swung it to test to the weight. He didn’t need to. -- They all expected an attack to come. They were hear to be tested to their roles once more. But none of them expected the kind of fury an entire crew charging in the same direction via a battlecry would behold them. Within that moment, they had felt the weight of the ship underneath them tilt, their center of gravity bouncing away from where they were used to standing. Within that one moment, Ryanti saw the Captain’s dead eyes aim straight for the intention of piercing his heart. His eyes lit up, alive and true, as was his mouth agape at the struggle to maintain his footing. Everyone took steps back. Forty-three almost fell, while Eighty-five and Sixteen held their ground the best. But even Jonathan stumbled for a moment, looking down at his feet to make sure he was in a correct kind of posture. Sounsyy charged and Ryanti took the most steps back to try to adjust in time to parry efficiently, only to be fainted. The battle had begun. Whoever in the midst of their running bothered to look, it was going to be a hell of a show. Eighty-five had brought her arms to match with Sounsyy’s elbow. However, it was intercepted by the elbow of another; Jonathan’s. Both of their bones smacked against one another, causing them both to slightly reel from the pain. Despite that, both of their elbows were locked before Jonathan shoved her back a few steps as the group adjusted their footing. When the first gunshot was fired, it startled near all of them. But they quickly understood what that symbolized. “Eight!” Jonathan called out with a harsh voice. Eighty-five didn’t even respond as she had already broke out in a vicious sprint towards Jada. Ryanti had come in from the Captain’s flank and swung in an overhead blow, only to be swatted away. Jonathan flanked from her other side and his blade found Sounsyy’s on multiple heights within a second before the Captain swatted him away momentarily with a curved swing of her sword that bounced off of his one-handed block. Jonathan spun and maneuvered in front of Forty-three, who had ample time to make symbols with his hand and pressed his palms upon the floor. A sudden slippery gust of wind swatted the two lancers that were now charging towards them on either side of the Captain off of their feet at the same time his cloak blew from the effects of his wind spell. But the movement of the ship thrusted the mage forward. Which landed his legs right into Sounsyy’s sweep. It sent him flipping errantly and landing hard on the wooden deck back first. Before the Lalafell’s back hit the floor, Eighty-five had tackled Jada in a wreckless fashion to the ground as she was about to fire. The ship’s tilt during their grappling had caused the gun to jump from Jada’s hand and onto the floor. Eighty-five had Jada on her back, straddling her. She threw a flurry of closed fists to Jada’s neck, nose, chest, even behind her ear, but Jada blocked all of them in a tangling of arm limbs. Jada hit home with her first strike – a side hook to her chin. Recoiling from the punch, she spun off of her and ended up on her knees. Eighty-five got up to her feet while Jada got up to her knees, grabbing Eighty-five attempted kick to the face, but Eighty-five thrusted her foot forward, landing the mark anyway. Sounsyy’s blade switched from left to right in a flurry of offense, sandwiching her two male opponents on either side who took turns clashing steel with her. The two men were unable to attack in this violent offense, instead defending high, low, and sideways. However, Sounsyy’s effort was hitting nothing but steel. Her offense was brutal and furious, but the two men facing her were seemingly in sync with their idea of strict defense. That was until one of the two lancers reached Ryanti’s flank. The young man was forced to break off his conflict with Sounsyy to swat the spear away from his throat. The Lalafell seemed awkward and slow in getting up. The lancer targeting him wasn’t. The spearmen headed for him with tip point outstretched. It was only after that the Lalafell finally stopped playing possum. His awkward fumbling was actually a clever ruse in disguising another whirling of his fingertips, drawing symbols into each hand. As the Lancer aimed to pin him down to the floor, the Lalafell whipped himself up with another wind spell, twirling his body in a graceful tornado fashion up onto his face like only a mage could, using his other free hand to execute his third wind spell, crushing the might of the air down upon the Lancer’s spear, causing the tip of his weapon to be pressed to the floor. It was then that the Lalafell demonstrated his martial skill by running up the pole and jumping into a violent spinkick, aided by what little potency he had left in the last charm he used, knocking the Lancer onto the floor in violent fashion. The crew ran in the other direction, again shifting the boat. It caused Forty-three and the floored lancer to slide until they hit the edge of the boat. The two girls that had been fighting over the gun in-between them, however, were just getting started on what would end up being one of the high points in the drill. When the boat shifted, Jada jumped up in the air to hit three kicks targeting Eighty-five’s head, but they were all blocks by her swiftly moving hands. They were both sly, slick, and extremely quick, making this a fight between two females flare up in intensity as a rivalry sense of mind began to take form. What resulted was a beautiful show of conflict. Their pace quickened immensely; both girls attempted a high roundhouse kick twice, with each girl starting with a right, then a left, almost as if they were fighting their opposite. Their legs clashed against one other as if they were swords when this happened, and with vicious power they matched each other’s kicks blow for blow that was getting faster and more intense by the second as both girls exerted shouts of exertion and pain from clacking their shins together like rams batting horns. Jada aimed right for the cheek with a spin kick to break the cycle, only for Eighty-five to duck and deliver one of her own damn nearly as fast as hers was. Jada dodged as she did, catching her right in the nose with a direct punch, sending Eighty-five’s face snapping back and her feet stumbling. She caught her footing right when Jada crouched and reached for the pistol, kicking it aside from her hands and, keeping the leg in the air, swung it horizontally around to catch her with a hook kick, heel first. Her first blow to Jada. Then snapped it back for a knee-powered roundhouse to her face. Make that two. The second blow Jada used for momentum on her end, spinning back around as they reached a neutral positioning again. Forty-three was a little dazed from hitting the wall, but wasted absolutely no time in tracing runes from his hands. This time he utilized earth elemental spells upon his hands in runes. Once they were both able to recover, Forty-three used his size and weight to make the spear wielder’s task of putting him down difficult. He dodged a forward thrust by tilting his head, then shifted to the side to dodge another. He grabbed the pole the second time and cartwheeled over it while using it for support, smacking his palm against the Lancer’s leg. It felt like he smashed it with a rock. His hand was like stone. He had skinned his hand to feel like stone. The Lancer let out a yelp of pain before swinging his stick like a bat, smacking the Lalafell upon the head and sending him reeling a few feet backwards. During all of this time, Jonathan and Sounsyy had been fighting. Though this fight was much more methodical than the rest. Jonathan had shunted himself in front of Ryanti and the other to get the Captain’s attention. With everyone else occupied, the Captain found that she had no choice because Jonathan immediately went on heavy offense. He had the same look in his eye as she did. A look that no one really noticed that he had possessed before now. Or was it a different look? A look that would only turn on and off like a switch in the mind? Nevertheless, Jonathan’s face was completely emotionless, and as he swung at the Captain, she found it physically intense to block his advances. He had immense power behind every blow but it seemed to be coming from nowhere. In reality, he had mastered the use of his legs and hips and projecting that energy into the tiny point of impact that he attacked. He had mastered this kind of style with a sword. One of relentless offense. His attacks were incredibly straightforward; he only used a total of ten different kinds of blows. But the order in which he used them were almost impossible to predict. It was a very precise style. An Ala Mhigan style. A style seen often in the war they had with Garlemald. But he was doing it so well that even someone who was familiar with the style would struggle to keep up. To make things worse, he appeared to hit faster and harder with every blow. Like a machine. Sounsyy was finding herself defending each blow with more and more sloppiness as Jonathan began to show his true colors as a warrior. Their swordplay became blurs of steel clashing one another in a display of finesse and precision. But Sounsyy was turning from frustration into desperation, falling back. Even with the ship moved, Jonathan just kept friggin’ coming. It forced the Captain to let out a desperate noise of exertion. It was a duel between the leaders, and she was losing. Fast. Ryanti’s more graceful style of attack initially caught the Lancer that fought him off guard. But the Lancer switched their style to match it by treating the lance as a quarterstaff with a blade on one end. He twirled the spear around his hands masterfully, spinning to create more momentum as Ryanti stuttered back to prepare to block. With a yell, he thrusted his blade into the spear’s offense, clacking against it. Ryanti then thrusted like a fencer would, the side of his blade meeting the defense of the spear. Five clinks sounded as he adjusted the direction of his previous thrust with each block, but the Lancer shoved one end of the long spear after another in a rapid flurry of defense, pushing Ryanti back right after with athletic twirls and spins of his body in another flurry of offense. The lancer grabbed the stick still in the middle of the rush, switching to thrusting again. Ryanti ducked underneath one of these thrusts and wrapped his arms upward and around the stick, pressing it against his shoulder blades and, in a display of strength, used the spear as a pulley and tossed the Lancer upon his back and sticking the end of the spear into his gut, causing him to murmur in pain. He grabbed his sword after and rushed forward. Eighty-five was bleeding from her nose. Jada didn’t care. The two women had been trading punches rapidly, cancelling each other out with their legs by intercepting knees. Eighty-five landed a wild hook to Jada’s face, causing her to stumble over herself, and then landed a beautiful side kick directly to her nose, causing it to bleed. Finally, Eighty-five attempted a running jump kick, but it got grabbed by Jada’s grip and she viciously slammed the girl on her back. She was done. But her hand was on the gun. Eighty-five’s demise happened at the time of the Captain’s desperate yell. Forty-three had been legitimately hurt by the spear’s clubbing hit, as his head was already not what it used to be because of his previous injuries to his skull. But Jonathan’s eyes quickly flashed over because of the Lalafell’s painful moan. It was this that saved Sounsyy’s ass. He ran and shunted the Lancer that was about to get him so hard that it knocked the wind out of him as he hit the floor, out of the fight. He winked at the Lalafell but the hurt man pointed up at the mainmast. There was another gunner climbing the nest and getting ready! Swearing at his lack of foresight, Jonathan began swiftly setting himself up to climb the mainmast. But the damn ropes functioned in a different way than the ones he used to hang from the ship’s sides! While Jonathan was trying to figure it out, Ryanti focused his attention directly at the Captain when his superior left the fight. Sounsyy was a faced with a new opponent, the very young man she sat next to that morning. Not reacting to Ryanti’s sudden advance, Sounsyy instead decided to advance on her own. A swirling overhead strike was countered by ducking and him swiping at her dominant leg, but Sounsyy switched her dominant side and thrusted towards his midsection, forcing Ryanti to back up as she switched back to her usual leg up front. Perspiration was pounding off of the both of them. Sounsyy engaged at a rapid offense of five consecutive side swipes, targeting the mid-section, then the legs. Ryanti countered with three offense moves of his own; a thrust towards her thigh, a high hit, and then a spinning overhead. All three were blocked with steel. They next thrusted at each other, countering and spinning around each other’s blades with their own like fencing pirates before Sounsyy pushed Ryanti further back with a superior offense. Ryanti however broke this offense by changing his style; he switched his thrusts for broad slashing swings with some power behind them, tiring Sounsyy’s arm and forcing her on defense. This was becoming more than a ‘little’ drill. This was becoming a competition between two different units with the same mission. A release of all of their pent-up differences and inner feelings of conflict. They were beginning to understand one another by fighting one another. Jonathan was swiftly trying to catch up to the one ahead of him on the nest. That gunner had reached the top by now, and was beginning to rapidly reload. Though it was a blank, the gunner also counted the time they would take loading the actual round. “Seven!” He called out to him. He knew he didn’t have to give the order. Ryanti’s ears flicked. He was the only one active on the deck now. He had to keep them from reaching Jonathan. He swung one more time at Sounsyy and turned his back to the bow of the ship, backing up to reach a spot where he could defend Jonathan, but was caught in a full nelson by Jada. Ryanti head-butted himself out of the predicament but was caught off guard by Jada grabbing the fifth sword she was pulling out earlier, causing Ryanti to lose a lock or two of hair having barely dodged it. His teeth clenched. Swear was pouring from him now. He was now surrounded by two. His style changed again as he formed a box of defense around his front, moving in a way to keep them both having to face his front, trying to catch a bit of rest by only worrying about parrying thrusts made by them two running. However it would not last forever. After a moment he found his back hitting the mainmast, and he clenched his teeth so hard it hurt as he parried Sounsyy’s strike to his neck and swiftly shifting his wrist to block a thrust to his legs, then finally ducked another swing and spun around the pillar. Only to spin his back to the stern of the ship and the thrust of the Lancer that now had gotten up from the stomach shot he had given him earlier. Ryanti let it slip under his arm pit, giving him a swift elbow to the face. His eyes lit up when he saw the other two run for the mast. He intercepted them by sprinting ahead of them. He knew he couldn’t run anymore. He had to stand his ground. Ryanti’s blade flicked back and forth in his front box, his eyes dilated as his adrenaline caved into its full force and turned him into a being thinking of survival and survival only. He seemed feral as he made his first offense flurry at the two, bouncing his blade off of theirs with one clash every fourth of a second for a whole three seconds before a shoulder thrust by Sounsyy cut through his thread, crimson blood emitting from the wound, causing Ryanti to back up in the burst of pain. The gunner up top had loaded the gun, and let out a shot at Fruhsuun. There was nothing Jonathan could have done. He hadn’t climbed up there yet. This was a very challenging test. That he knew. But he knew that coming out of it, he had done his best. He knew one thing though. That gunner was not going to give up another shot. Ryanti let out another cry as he was nicked by the Lancer from behind. It caused another tear in his clothing, on his ribs, near the bottom right above his waist. The boat tilting again gave him no opportunity to counter attack, but Ryanti was able to adjust this time. He switched his style one last time, placing both hands on his sword if he needed a powerful block, because at this point he was doing all defense. He was fighting with all he had. His blade was all over the place as he spun and dodged the thrusting spear and the hellfire offense of Jada AND Sounsyy. Everything that he had learned, between Ul’Dah’s barracks, Sentinal’s Ark, his time in this unit and even his teenage years learning ball dancing was being applied here. Ryanti starting letting out yells of exertion and to psyche himself up, somehow it made him block even faster, something that his adrenaline could have justified. Then, something happened. Something clicked. He had felt like he hadn’t belonged. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here. But here and now, in the middle of all of the flying steel and the desperation and the sweat and the angst and the pain of his wounds because of the salt in his sweat, everything clicked. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to show them what kind of heart he had. What he would do to protect… and what he would do to see his dreams through. His dreams. One of the only things that could be left when it comes to who you are. He went for a low block of Jada’s, and swiped it away like his ancestor Alexandria would probably had been able to do in Ishgard so long ago. He bent his stomach inward and leaned forward to dodge a thrust from a lance, much like Rei-Sigh three hundred years ago in his bloodline would have done in one of his stage performances. He momentarily gave himself space with a rapid spin of his sword in a 360 degree rotation, much like his brave father probably had done in Cartenau, fighting for his family’s life at a time when everyone thought the world was going to end. But only thought it would end. The world did not end. The dreams of the people came true. And while any of his family’s lineage –probably-, -maybe-, -might- have done what he was doing, it didn’t matter. The people on this ship were not fighting Lorenthian his father, or his ancestors. They were fighting a young man with the blood of all of those people in his veins. They were fighting Ryanti Veanysus, and this was who he was! For the first time in this desperate attempt to not lose, Ryanti began going on the offense. He blocked another spear thrust and pulled the spear in front of the swords. When all of the blades locked, he thrusted his blade down on the first blade he saw that wasn’t his, cutting Jada’s hand and causing her to recoil. He ducked underneath the blades and only undid the blade lock afterwards, positioning himself on the opposite side of the spearman. He blocked two high shots from the women on either side of him, then jumped up above the spear’s thrust in a sloppy way of dodging it but landing on the stick itself with knees and shins, rolling under two low swings from the blade landing him next to the Lancer again in which he elbowed the lancer in the side of his face and then with a backhand, sending him falling to the floor but not without him sticking the pointy end to prick Ryanti’s leg, a red blotch slowly forming in his pants leg. Ryanti was hurting at this point. All of these little cuts were eating away at him. The two made their way for the mast again, but Ryanti stopped them by running in front of them with a calm expression opposite of his feral expression from earlier, but with determined eyes. He made an attack for Jada, but was blocked and got cut again on his shoulder by the Captain, making it two cuts there. He winced in pain but his shook his head violently, not wanting to stop yet. Jada went in for a mid-section thrust but Ryanti parried and spun their blades around in a lock until both blade ends hit the Captain in the upper part of her good arm, forming some cuts of their own, causing her to make a noise. He had now put a mark on everyone. But there was an end to every last stand. At the moment Jonathan reached the Crow’s next, both women started to make the same overhead strikes at the same time, forcing Ryanti to continue to block upwards, but his blocks were getting weaker, weaker, and weaker. His back slid against the pole as another simultaneous hit was cracked against his blade – and finally his blade gave, the metal shattered into one large piece and two smaller ones, crumbling next to him and causing Ryanti to shout in pain from the vibration, letting go of the hilt and shaking his hands while shivering in tension, crouching down to sit on his butt at the mercy of them. Right then, Forty-three blew the two women away from Ryanti with another forceful wind spell. Not enough to push them off of their feet, but enough to separate them. The Plainsfolk mage was glowing with a slight green tint now, having etched a rune symbol upon his chest itself. His fabric was floating in the wind, almost as if it was slightly weightless. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes had a bit of sheen to them as well. “It is… so much harder… to do this… without my staff… “He muttered with his accent flaring with every phrase. He sounded exhausted. But with another strong exhale, gusts of air that he had pocketed within his body left with that aura and settled things down on his end. Eighty-five, knowing that she was defeated, laid on the deck with an arm over her face in a rather frustrating mood. Jonathan had the gun muzzle-up in the air. It had never been fired. He looked down with a bit of a hard expression, knowing that it was finished. Ryanti was in heaps of sweat and there were plenty of small cuts on his body that had torn through the threads of his clothing and stained it with blood. He was hurting from all of the salt being poured into those wounds. He was also breathing very quickly, finding it hard to settle his heart rate. He was tense, so tense his hands shivered. In fact, he was tense enough for one of the capillaries in his nose to burst from the blood pressure. A slow, but thick stream of blood silently fell from one of his nostrils as he felt the burning pain of that wound opening up. That wound was not from the battle, but from stress. Stress of holding that many at once. Of that skill. For that long. He moved a little bit. He was now sprawled out in a seating position against the pole. He had a dazed look in his eye, as if he didn’t know where he was at first. He swallowed. He was so thirsty. His heart felt like it was going to explode. It was normal for him to feel this way. This was the first time in his life that he fought that hard without his life being in danger. It was also the first time it probably would have ended in his death. A moment later, he started wiping at the stream of blood from his nose that had now drooped all the way to his jaw and even his neck with his bare arms. When it wasn’t stopping, he placed two fingers up against his nose and let out a cough. He needed some help.

I don't really lean in the direction of flying chocobos. If anything it's because Ryanti doesn't like the horsebirds. He also would not want to torture the things. But to me it just makes more sense to ride something with a good amount of mass and a good wingspan. Chocobos are supposely to be mostly non-flight birds anyhow. The fat chocobo thing is meant to be comedic I think. I don't think it was initially planned but fan demand probably put that in. It's hilarious but hard to believe. Yay magic! Though with the Chocobos, I am at least pleased that they look like they are really struggling to stay in flight with those tiny wings. I hope 2 mil is enough to construct my own personal airship. If not, I'll be riding a whole smorgasborg of crap. Because yay expansion. But as far as Ryanti's canon mount goes, I'm going to wait and see about the lore before I even try to make a decision. Of course this is assuming I don't have a personal airship by then.

That makes much more sense to me. The date changing being a manmade thing. A political thing. Because to me it felt VERY mission accomplishy lol. I can't believe it is truely an Astral Era yet, and probably never will In the MMO itself. It might even come back to bite those GC leaders in the ass. Umbral Eras seem to last a good amount of years. Perhaps not as long as Astral Eras but I think they definately can be as long as one. You are talking 1500 - 3000 years there. Now, maybe this is the first Umbral Era where mankind prevented the apocalypse (Stopping Bahamut) but does that REALLY mean the Umbral Era is over? What does the Umbral Era mean? To me, it is not about war (that happens in Astral Eras), a cycle of destruction and creation of civilization OR cataclysm. (Happened Sixth Umbral Era and Fourth Umbral Era but other Umbral Eras were slow burns like the Fifth, and we don't know about the others yet). To me, the only thing that is consistant is that Umbral Eras are eras that are full of great challenges and great change. Umbral Eras are eras where civilization and its people have to be strong and face great challenge, and as a result there will be great change. And shit will get worse before it gets better. BUT eventually the fruits of those generations will bear golden prosperity for years to come. Hence Astral Era. Does that sound like 3.0? It does to me. So I think the natural state of the world is still Umbral. Despite the calendar date being used as a tool of hope.

While I don't think that personal airships in the setting will be cheap to the point where any Joe could just get himself one and zoom around in the air, I do believe that Eorzea is on the brink of a technological revolution (Although they are kinda behind). I think that if an "Air Top Gun Faction Sky Pirate Steampunk Possie" were to form, it would probably be groups of early adapters. The majority of flying mounts are still animals, and personal airships are probably gonna be expensive. But don't mind me. I could be wrong as hell. But I think going from a medieval-like society to Last Exile society takes some time. I guess we will see. Unlike how the Ironworks were portrayed in game, Skysteel Industries seems hell bent to change things on every level of society, not just the tech heads. I for one welcome our Airship overlords at the end of the day. I just hope they explain it in a different way than "And then suddenly tech happened!". I'll just interpret it as declassification if that happens.

I think if young Ryanti was to look at his future self, he would be rather shocked and dumbfounded that what he was obsessed with as a hobby to escape his reality has turned into what his career composes of now. I think he would be surprised that his career path has deviated a tad from his father's footsteps. He would not be able to believe that he has crawled out of his shell and unbecome the sheltered, naive privileged little child he once was. Young Ryanti would also be a bit angry at his future self for beginning to lose sight of what young Ryanti values. Young Ryanti, being obsessed with protecting his family's reputation and interested in diving his hands into the wealthy community, would be sutprised to the point of being confused that most people he values now aren't in that crowd at all. He would probably chastize his future self for loosening up and becoming more laid back because young Ryanti is still haunted by the fear of losing the only identity he feels like he has because of being a halfing and that is his family's last name. But beyond all that, Ryanti would just want to know if life is better in the future. And despite all of the backbreaking work that went into building a future for him, the Ryanti in the present would be able to tell young Ryanti that his life is more fufilling now.

I tend to operate with mild vagueness in terms of what the exact dates are. My interpretation is that it is currently year 1 of the Seventh Astral Era. At the same time, I take into account this MMO time bubble. So personally, since Ryanti set himself out in the world at the beginning of 2.0, I generally say that he has been out and about "For a year and some." I generally tend to think that it is not exactly year 2 yet, but it has been year 1 for 'a while'. This is because I heard it being year 1 a few patches ago but I have not heard of a year 2. Because of the time bubble, my character has done quite a lot in a single year. But that is true for all MMO'S. I find it easier to base time on a vague notion of slowly passing over the RP's I have versus trying to be specific about the years passing. Speaking of eras, I do think the declaration of the Seventh Astral Era is reminiscent of the 'Mission Accomplished' fiasco IRL. Premature declaration. Seems kind of silly to me that the Dragons rise again at the beginning of an Astral Era. I was a bit surprised when that was declared, I feel like the Umbral Era was way too short.

Ryanti had seen eyes like those before. The blank stare. He was no stranger to that emotion. He had lived in Ul’Dah after all. He had witnessed the dim, hopeless refugee. The financially broke merchant. The lowest slaves of the low cleaning after people’s messes with zero pay and zero hope for freedom. That look brought upon a feeling of defeat. An image of numbness in a desperate attempt to stop the pain. To treat the symptoms but not the cause. He didn’t want to believe that Sounsyy would be the kind of woman to be defeated like that. That there would be no resolve behind her eyes. He had barely seen her smile or laugh though. All he could see was those dead eyes now. He knew how that was. To be unable to escape the numbness. But unlike Sounsyy’s expression, Ryanti’s eyes were full of life. The aquamarine umbrella of his iris shone brightly in the morning sun, and his window to the soul seemed to be infinite when one would glance into his pupils. They were full of youthful energy, vigor, and resolve. However, there are also something missing from his demeanor. A kind of hesitation. A lack of fulfillment, as if he was seeking to fill a void somewhere. As if he wanted something more out of life. Ryanti’s feet returned to their slow, casual rocking pace as Sounsyy explained to him her experiences and feelings about the dreams she was having. His eyes hinted at empathy and his expression became that way. His ears tightened a little in the interest he had in her wording. He digested her insightful description and her questions as a calm wind bent his locks towards its direction. Sounsyy’s eyes may have followed her hand, but Ryanti’s eyes stayed fixed to her cheek. It was only after she had completely undone her bandage that he shifted his glance down to her injured hand. He pursed his lips a little tighter at the sight of the ugly bruising, and cauterization marks instigated in order to save her. He could not imagine the pain she was in during that moment. Or what had immediately taken place after. A moment or two passed. A sound of the waters splitting from the ship’s bow echoed off of his ears. “It’s very familiar.” He finally said, scooting a half-ilm closer to take up the spot that her hand had been in order to get a closer look at the extent of the injury. He spoke slowly, and very sincerely, pausing between each sentence. “I have those dreams too. As if I am someone else. Swimming in darkness one moment… and falling from the sky in the next. The lights you see – they are neither suns nor torches. But they are real. As real as the world you have seen in those dreams. There was a time where Hydealyn was such a world. Tall, unwavering structures so tall they would touch the heavens scattered the land as far as the eye could see. Lights that seemingly come from nothing, as you see from Garlemald – but in all colors, shapes and sizes, that illuminated the horizon. And the ships. Ships of luminous metal that could not only sail the waters, but the sky itself. Even those that could sail above the sky, to mimic the moon’s journey around our planet. I could not hope to convince anyone unless they saw it themselves. We are seeing it from their eyes. From their time. And I think when I am floating in that darkness, it is where I am to go. Where I must go in order to understand. To be able to understand them… and their story. That is what I think it means, at least.” He fell silent as he continued to examine her bruised and battered hand. “We all get those dreams. Me, my partners. Now you. But you’re not alone. I see the difference, y’know. I see the lack of rest in your eyes. I can tell these dreams trouble you so. Don’t let it. They are not malicious if you don’t let them be. I have not lost much sleep. Some, but not much. Actually the less you allow it to trouble you, the sharper the dreams become. If you do that, you’ll sleep well. Besides… there are no words to describe how breathtaking it can be to see it. To see that world.” He exhaled one long, slow breath through his nose. His right hand inched ever closer to that injured left hand. He said nothing, he just… didn’t want to do anything wrong. He rested his fingers incredibly lightly up against the palm of her hand from underneath, not wanting to hurt her. They were warm, despite still being a bit wet from his earlier duties and gripping the mainmast pole as he did. His thumb gently rested itself right behind the knuckle of her index finger. He very carefully manipulated the hand to tilt a bit, eyeing the bruising and the extent of the injury in her bone. He could feel the pulse emitting from that hand. It made him feel a kind of life coming from her that he could not see from the look in her eyes. “It’s suffocating. It needs air. At least for a little while.” He quietly mentioned, his thumb subconsciously moving a little horizontally across her skin, a little more towards her thumb. He used his index finger that rested under her hand to softly tilt it a bit back to have a better view of her severed finger. “The bone – I would maybe see Forty-three. He mentioned pursuing a physician career. He could probably… help straighten it out. It would hurt, yes, but the bone would need to be straightened out to heal properly… or… “ His words lagged a little, as it was beginning to dawn on him that he was no longer looking at the hand, but at Sounsyy herself. If Ryanti had thoughts in a hypothetical situation, he was either running out of them or his thoughts were running away from him. “… something.”

I was really moved by this song. It echoes the loss you experience as a character in the main scenario, and the loss of good people, and perhaps a more ideal future. Just, continuous loss. It's painful. But yet it's beautiful at the same time. Like a thorned rose. Ouch, but lovely. I thought nothing could be better than Answers for me. But this is just about as good.

I walk among the path that is the most dangerous.

He reasoned that it would be easier on him if he were to just get himself busy with a task right away. After all, he didn’t want to feel guilty just standing still when he had gotten himself up upon the main deck that dawn’s eve. As always, his ears were open to P’welro’s explanations. He had learned so much about the ship’s sails at that point that he could not promise he could retain all of that information. He had no idea that maintaining a vessel required that much knowledge and that much all around work. He would have never guessed if he had not sailed on one of these. But he found knowledge in general to be valuable, and so Ryanti would never truly find a way to thank P’welro for all she was doing. When she mentioned how the sight of the sunrise would be better seen from the Crow’s Nest, Ryanti craned his neck to glance up at the structure, his hands still occupied with what he was doing. He was getting to the point where he could afford to do some of this stuff without actually glancing down at it and quietly determining whether or not he was doing it right. When she had said to hold on tightly, Ryanti smiled in such a warm and legitimate manner that he did not realize. With a chuckle or two, he had made his way diligently up to the Crow’s Nest itself. “I’ll take warning though, I promise.” He had told her. His thoughts were still wandering on what he had said when he made his way up there. They wanted to be like her. The Navigator. Beautiful, yet terrible. He could broaden that description to include all of mankind. All of Hydealyn. The present. It was beautiful, yet he had found out after losing his innocence, terrible. Ryanti would answer her call today. But he was unsure whether or not he ever would again. Seventy-Seven lightly rested the palms of his hands upon the wooden rail that circumvented the Crow’s Nest and observed the Navigator’s fiery awakening shade upon the fabric of the horizon’s peak. He did not squint his eyes but barely. The sun’s rays illuminated his white hair in such a manner that it appeared to glow. He felt his heart rate jump a little as he observed how the colors in the sky changed from red to orange, and finally blue. Everywhere around him felt like it went on forever. Forever was there clear blue water, forever was the sun and forever was he. The young man felt very free and liberated in that moment, finally closing his eyes to allow the warm sun’s rays to glance across his cheeks. It was not like Ryanti could see past the ill omen. But he just put it out of his mind for now. He wanted to see the good in things so badly. It was both a strength and weakness. When finally his gaze retreated, he had seen Marjanie eye him from the deck, and Ryanti gave her a nod, letting her know that he had taken her words to heart and wanted to see this gift for himself. It was his own version of non-verbal communication. He had folded his arms upon the railing and rested his posture and weight upon it in what little relaxation he could get as the Elezen went inside of the Captain’s cabin. A sliver of thoughts went through his mind during that time. They were minor things. About how he had seen so many new things about the world in the last two years. About how he had done things he never thought he would be doing. That despite how stressful and haunting this job was, it did have its fulfillments. He also wondered how the Captain, how Sounsyy was handling everything. He supposed that he had to get out of the Nest eventually. So he proceeded to slowly but surely climb back over the nest, holding onto the outside of it when his ears picked up the sounds of a door opening. It was the door to the Captain’s cabin. He had looked that way briefly before focusing on where he was. As Sounsyy gave her quiet orders to P’welro, he had gently sat down upon the mainmast in the corner. His feet dangled from the air and he allowed them to loosely rock back and forth. He was given no more orders, and so he reasoned that perhaps he could stay up there for a little longer, observing the early morning’s sun for a little while. He did not have to look down to know what was going on when he felt the foundation of the mainmast slightly shift. In that moment, an ear of his flicked as he realized that Jonathan was right. The rate that she was climbing the mast was too quick to be of pure leisure. Perhaps it had come? Everyone else that had been plagued with dreams had not told her a word, had given her space. Was it now the time? His legs still idly rocked back and forth as she sat herself next to him. It was a moment of silence, but yet still felt so different to him simply by the addition of her presence up here. It was… a little heavy, despite how peaceful it was currently. Ryanti remained still as his hair blew about in the wind, though listening to her question intently. A slight hum emitted from the depths of his throat as he immersed himself in thought, and a manner in which to answer her question to the best of his ability. He closed his eyes, allowing the memories of his previous dreams on this vessel to resurface to the front of his mind. He tilted his eyes towards her, locking with them for the first time in a while. Perhaps since that day he had challenged her on the Bloodsands. “Have you ever heard of a man by the name od Saint Coinach?” He smiled a little at the mentioning of the name, it being a man that he had really looked up to after reading about his life. As appealing as he found to keep his gaze intertwined with hers, he had to break it away to stare at the sun once more, so he could think of other things besides. “He was a man that changed the way historians see the world. Before him, it was taught that the civilizations in our time were raised from the ashes of a former era that preceded our own. An ancient, magnificent era that saw an apex of society and culture. An era that waned and collapsed because of their legendary abuse of magic and the exploitation of aether that nearly sucked Hydealyn dry.” He raised his right hand up to his shoulder level, extending his index finger and bouncing it up and down in the direction of the ocean softly as if to emphasize his words in that manner. “Before him, historians believed that the rise of the Fifth Astral Era saw civilization reach a high point, and that was –it-. Before them, there was nothing more or less beyond organized tribes and nomadic hunter-gathers that formed communities and settled down when they realized agriculture bared fruit. But you see, there was a myth during that time. A myth that eons before even the beginning of the Fifth Era civilizations, there was a time in Hydealyn’s history where civilizations reached a pinnacle the world has never seen again.” His pointed finger turned into an upward palm as he explained further, utilizing the inspiration of the beautiful sky before him to allow him to word out his thoughts. “Saint Coinach believed it to be more than a myth. Despite no one believing in him, and despite everyone trying to prove him wrong, Saint Coinach spent the majority of his lifetime chasing that belief. Eventually, he had gathered enough evidence to where once he made his findings public, no one could argue against him. It was found that there was in fact a civilization that took hold before any of the civilizations we ever knew. A one ‘Allagan Empire’ that spanned over most of the land in the three great continents. It was said during Coinach’s lifetime that the Allagan Empire was vast, glorious, and prosperous in the likings that the world has never seen before or since. Then, at some point around five thousand years ago, they just… vanished.” He solemnly rested his gesturing hand onto the wooden pole that he sat upon, tightening up his shoulders in a bit of a stretch. “That is common knowledge to anyone interesting in looking it up. But… what the world doesn’t know is just how small we are compared to what they were. How their technology would make the Garleans look like bronze-age cavemen… or how their mastery of magic would make even the wisest Conjurer sage of this era completely dumbfounded. From what masterpieces of magic we have seen in the Fifth Era and now, and what technology we have beheld ourselves against in today's time was.. nothing compared to them.” He paused for a moment, allowing himself a moment to moisten his parched throat with a swallow. “The artifact you laid your eyes upon is from that era. A very old, very ancient era that has been lost to history. But even though knowledge of them has been, for the most part, lost to mankind, their legacy has not died. They have created things during that era that has survived for this long because it had been built so unbelievably well. That includes what we have on this ship.” He slightly shifted his posture enough to partially face her now, finding his balance as he let both of his hands free of supporting himself on the mainmast pole. He gestured both of his hands palm-up towards her, forming his hands in a shape of a partially open sphere. “That artifact is a product of immense technology and mastery of magic. It is filled with a dormant channel of aether that activated when we set out on this mission. So it… ‘came to life’. It has an attachment to where it needs to belong, which is the objective that we are heading to. When you glanced your eyes upon it, it sensed your intentions. It chose to accept you. It formed a connection with you.” He rested his hands back onto the pole and relaxed himself a bit, locking glances with her once more. “So… it is trying to look for a way to communicate. For a way to reach out to us, and guide us. One of the ways that it does that is through our dreams. A long, long time ago… there were other souls that lived and worked around that object. That key. Those souls either… perished alongside it, or had a strong attachment to it during their lifetime. Their will, their essence, perhaps even their very spirits itself are still here. But they, their era, and their stories have been completely forgotten by mankind for such a long time that they are desperate to call for help. To be laid to rest, and to tell their story. They want us to understand, so that we can be able to do the right thing with handling what they have left behind, and to learn from their mistakes so that their dramatic end may not happen again in some distant future when civilization reaches that apex again.” His feet rocked back and forth for a moment longer. “And I have faith in all of us. Not just because of the faith I have in the people on this ship, or my partners. But also because we are being watched over by them. Y’know, by the Allagans.” He smiled a little. “I may not be the most experienced on this ship, but... I’ve done this job enough times to know that they have picked us. That they are.” His eyes trailed away from hers, down to the injured hand that was closest to him. Talking about this had him think about her more. He stared intently for a moment at the wound, all bandaged up and everything. He had felt a hand of his own move in to lift it up, to examine it for himself, but at the last moment he hesitated. “May I?”

When the Roehmerl skimped a bit along a sandbar, it jolted all four of the members of the Black Label Unit awake from their aether-inspired slumber. After rubbing the back of his head rather painfully due to the bump it took on the side of the wall, Ryanti opened his eyes to the full moon that cascaded down to hover over their side window with its dying light. Dawn was a short time away. Nothing was said between the members of the group.Their dreams had been utilizing them as a conduit on so many different occasions, on so many different missions that they were used to it. Although there was an extent to how used to it one could get. No one dream was the same, and although some could be similar, they were just never the same. There was always either… something different or something more between each dream they had. They were all linked to that object’s wish, and were set out to fulfill it. Four of them knew what they were getting into, but there was a fifth that didn’t. “So you’re going up there?” The white haired Hyqo’te asked the Black haired Midlander. With an unreadable expression and a chiseled face, Jonathan was impossible to read while he was focused on something. Like tying his boots as he was doing now. He let out a dark sigh, one that would betray his tiredness as a man awoken perhaps earlier than he would like and worked a bit longer than he wished. Or perhaps it was because he had slept -too- much. Who knew? “I am going up there. I have nothing to do here. I enjoy being out there.” he mentioned. Jonathan had done an excellent job with the Carpentry the last two days before. He had kept a subtle smile on his face and even mumbled to himself a few tunes while repairing and fortifying parts of the ship, bouncing back and forth on the side of it like a pure natural. It was actually a hobby of his to craft his own sheds and build small, personal rowboats that he would sell to anyone willing to pay. A hobby he would practice while off duty. He enjoyed building things and sculpting things. It allowed him to shed off bad memories and focus on creating things in the world that could benefit people’s lives. In fact, enriching people’s lives is why Jonathan did what he did. Why Ryanti did what he did. Ryanti watched him dress up and prepare as Eighty-five shrugged them off and went back to bed, not really wanting to wake until she had to. Forty-three had shuffled over to her, on his knees and placing a hand upon her neck to make sure she was doing okay. He had been doing that regularly since she had gotten seasickness – a factor that she did not like admitting. Nevertheless, it had been obvious over the past few days that Forty-three was a very accomplished medic. During the last day, he had told Cwaenlona that he had went to school in Sharlaya to become a Physician, but that situations happened in his life that forced him to erase his dreams and start anew after suffering from a serious ‘accident’ that left his face needing plates. He had never graduated, and had nowhere else to go, and so he found himself here. Despite his moping in cleaning the floors, he had done it as requested, and during his rest time he was sure to look over what they had in the Infirmary, and lend his advice. “Though I do have a feeling that I have caused more death than prevented, I am afraid.” He had told her once, in a moment of guilt. Ryanti shifted his focus from him and back to Jonathan as he gathered what he needed to gather and fastened the bandana upon his head. He wondered how he could just get up and go like that, seemingly without being effected by the dream. He cuddled up his knees against his chin and closed his eyes, reflecting upon the last few days. Vivid memories of P’welro’s lecturing and educational tidbits were the first to come to mind. He had found to really enjoy her company. He had tried very hard to keep up with her. She was a sight to see when she was working. Like a reflection of a Captain except… more like a picturebook. He hadn’t told her that yet still. He remembered, though, how he would tease her by pointing out what proper name she did not pronounce correctly. He smiled to himself, showing his teeth, remembering how the simple teasing turned into an effort by Ryanti to teach P’welro something of his own: proper speech. “So if you want to say something like... Vineyard, it is just all about being patient and waiting for the word to say itself. Because you’re rushing to the end of the word, y’know?” He had said to her. It was a good memory to him. How did those exchanges go? Vineyard, V’eyard. No, Vin, like Fin but with a V! Vi- Don’t just give up so easily now! How am I going to ever take you to a ball, P’welro! Would you have to be a mute? He remembered the exchanges being something like that. Twelve, they were constantly talking to one another. Ribbing. He had been caught by P’welro eyes while having his own distracted and focused on Sounsyy wiping the floors below him. Ryanti had looked up and caught her looking up at him. He had coughed a little awkwardly and had to ask her to repeat her last few statements. He made a note to glance only when there was nothing to listen to. He did though, watching the Captain do one of the lowliest jobs on the ship, stealing glances every so often. Wondering if she ever noticed him all the way up there. Probably not. Every Captain should never make an order that they wouldn't do themselves... All in all, despite the backbreaking work, he had a great time up there with P’welro. They talked so much. Smiled and even laughed at some points; his throat was so dry by the end of it that her retiring early was the only reason why he did not beg to sleep with a waterskin because of how dry it made his throat. He had learned so much from her, and even a little bit about her. He had other good memories. He had hummed along with Fruhsuun once, after overhearing him hum so often that he had begun to pick up on the notes of one of his hymns. The next time he began it, Ryanti did it with him. He never questioned his inability to speak. He was beginning to finally realize that despite how different these people were to him in contrast, he was… beginning to really enjoy himself on this ship. He was beginning to really like these people. He knew that would only mean more pain later. More hurt. The worst was yet to come, and he knew no matter how hard he tried he was simply not able to prevent Nyemia from seeing her lovely fate through. He knew that they might not all make it out of this, and it already felt like it hurt him so. But he was willing to put up with that hurt. To grin and bear it and to deal with it. Because for Ryanti, he valued keeping his heart on his sleeve more than any kind of pain could make him believe otherwise. But damn it, that still did not mean he would not fight as hard as he can to make sure none of that happens. It was then that Ryanti took his thoughts off of that matter, and the words of the beautiful Elezen took their place. "When Azeyma shows her face tomorrow morn, we will have reached the Indigo Deep and you will see the curve of the horizon, and it will look as if the very sea is alight." "It is miracles from the Navigator like these that return sailors to the sea. On these waves we are born, here we die. Though Navigator willing, not soon." The miracles from the Navigator... He had heard much of this God from the men and women on this journey so far. What Marjanie had described was poetic and beautiful to Ryanti’s ears. He wanted to be there for that moment, and he did not want to take any chances. He was not going to obtain any more sleep that night anyway. His dreams had spoken to him once more, and when they silenced themselves he knew his night of rest was over. “I am going with you too.” Ryanti said to Jonathan as he too started to dress himself in his meek sailor’s wears that he had become best friends with over the course of days. “It’s not like I am going to ilm myself any more sleep.” “Hmm.” Jonathan murmured underneath his breath, watching the young man wardrobe himself while glancing all too many times out the window to make sure it was still dark. “Something tells me it is not because you are aching to get back to work.” “Perhaps not.” Ryanti admitted, standing up on one tied boot while tying the other. “But… I do not want to just sit here. I was told that Azeyma will show her face when morning comes. That it is a reason why sailors return to the sea. I don’t want to miss something like that when I have the chance to see it.” Jonathan snorted a bit in response to that idea, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow and that same crooked expression he had given to Sounsyy days earlier. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go, go! Get out!” Ryanti raised his eyebrows and clutched his teeth in a bit of a strained smile as his response, dressing up a bit faster than one normally would. “Yes sir, heh.” He told him enthusiastically, hopping unnaturally on one foot as he made his way to the door. They were extra quiet in knocking the door, and informed Berasaem politely that they would start the day early. They were led out the door to the mess, where it was a brief mini-breakfast of La Noscean toast, and some water. Ryanti wanted to eat quickly, and so he did. He did not want to miss that moment on the ocean. It was the first time he would have ever been on open sea in his life. He had remembered how small the mountains in Vylibrand looked from where they were yesterday. What would Hydealyn look like to him now? Would she show another face to him this morning? Azeyma’s? His slow methodical steps could be heard ascending the aft stairs onto the main deck of the ship. He was relaxed and leisurely in his pace, for this was the first time he could truly enjoy the presence of peace and quiet upon the vessel without trying to get some sleep. A brush of air colder than he remembered yesterday swept underneath the threads of his clothing, and caused a mild feeling of discomfort that lasted for but a moment the gust was at its strongest. It caused his white locks to fly about his face, and he used a hand to try to keep those locks from entering his eyes. His aquamarine irises sparkled with life and with the reflections of the moonlight bouncing across the water. Twilight was about to approach in a little while. So he had made it. No one in hell would yank him off of this deck until he had seen the sunrise. And the water. There was so much water! Water as far as the eye could see. Ryanti’s untrained eyes on the ocean could not spot a sliver of land anywhere, though the late shroud of the elderly nightfall kept him from seeing fully. Still, the stars were out as they ever were in the absence of the sun, which had probably awoken at the same time Ryanti himself. It just took a little longer for the sun to emerge from its bedchambers. Besides the initial gust, the winds were calm. He softly swiped the palm of his hand over the thick foundation of the mainmast, looking at his hand as he swiped the tiny bits of dust off of it, along with the crusty feeling of handling wood. “It’s so nice out here, when it’s quiet and the stars are out as they are. It’s so different too. Beautiful. Endless.” He smiled warmly at who he was talking to – the First Mate whom Ryanti was observing from a fair distance as he walked from the mainmast, to the middle of the deck. “Do you need someone to help you with anything, P’welro? I … didn’t want to miss the sunrise. So I’m up early.”

lol, Man.. I tried. But the more I look at it, the more I warm up to it. Here he is with a glass of white wine.

Military Business, first of all. Sometimes he can be assigned to areas or be found in areas on the way back to Ul'Dah. Second of all, could be send on an errand by his mother. His mother owns the family business and her son has to do his part sometimes. Includes traveling to close deals and whatnot. Third of all, if he's not on duty he tends to travel because he personally loves to since he spent most of his life cooped up in Ul'Dah. And Fourth of all, there because his reason is classified. I try to have multiple reasons to justify where I am if I RP. I'm not in the mindset of trying to explain every little thing about why I'm somewhere if RP randomly happens, so I have those four things to choose from if I have no specific explanation.

Ryanti was able to differentiate Pamido’s wardrobe from that of the rest of the crew. His mind wandered about the importance of the middle aged man that had guided them to the mess hall. What facts he gained were that the people of this ship had many stories notched onto their belts. There were centuries of history to experience if all of their stories were combined into one life. He was especially eager to try to learn as much from them as he could. Not just about their lifestyles or any advice they could give, but to also learn more about this vast, all-encompassing world. He had spent seventeen years of his life within a single compound, and another three within Ul’Dah’s city limits. His heart had yearned to find his own path among the vast open opportunities Eorzea provided. To make up for spending so much time alone by learning as much as he could as fast as he could. Were he to have had more time, he would have wanted to pick Pamido’s brain as well. But right now, his stomach ruled his thinking process. Fortythree paused for a moment when he had made his statement of good humor with a dash of threat. “O-of course. Of course we will, yes!” He chimed with a happy smile. Jonathan raised an eyebrow at his compatriot, wondering to himself if he would ever be able to understand the relationship Lalafells had with… other Lalafells. Eightyfive gave herself a huge yawn, stretching her arms and being rather surprised along with Ryanti that anyone decided to wave back at him. He was grateful for that. At least one person decided to wave back. That was something. He had thanked himself prior for being used to the ‘outsider’ role. He had it when he was a child, when he was in the Barracks, and now made himself company among an entire group of them so… this was no different, right? The young man had glanced around him when Sounsyy casted her judgement. Was it really that bad? He thought he looked like a picture perfect sailor! Ah but what did he know about trying to look like something he just wasn’t. Still though, it wasn’t like he never wanted to know what it would feel like to be one. His sensitive ears picked up on the snickering, and he blinked in a rather surprised manner when he returned his gaze forward and found Sounsyy right up on him with that stare of hers. “Oh… “ Ryanti murmured in realization when she placed her hands on his collar. Too proper. He had always been proper, and it was challenging not to be. He did not understand why so many despised it out in the open. To dress nice. To give his body some measure of dignity. He wondered if they would have thought the same about his choice of dress outside of the mission. Probably. Ryanti hid his glance from Sounsyy as she made her adjustments. He was afraid what his expression would look like if he stared back at her being so close, especially after he remembered her face from the night before. Though his aquamarine eye did occasionally steal a glance. His skin was pale, but not in a sickly way. It was his natural skin tone, betraying his family’s lineage from the North and East, as that was what he had inherited. His eyes brushed across the sight of the Lalafell bowing to another round of humor from the crew, knowing that they were getting a kick out of this. That, combined with the Captain’s hands manipulating his neckline, made his ears tighten up a little. He had hoped that the blood would have rushed into his ears, instead of his cheeks. Nice job, noble grape. Eightyfive snickered in a rather evil manner at all this, being the first one to hop onto a bar stool four spaces down from the Captain after she gave them what would probably be their favorite order: eat! Jonathan had been watching all of this with a smug, rough smile. He had a very shell-blasted face like a good amount of Sounsyy's crew did, though he had earned his stripes elsewhere beyond the sea in a place rather more familiar to the Captain than she knew. He grabbed Fortythree underneath his arms and lifted the panicking Lalafell onto a bar stool three seats down from Sounsyy. “Heyheyeheyheyheyheyhe-!! .. oh. Thank you.” Fortythree said in half embarrassment. Jonathan said nothing and quietly sat himself down next to him. Ryanti, having been the closest to the Captain since she had messed with his wardrobe a tad, was given the fate of seating himself right next to Sounsyy. He wiped a hand through his hair and scooted up a bit more towards the bartop, finally meeting gazes with her though right when he did, the four noticed the dramatic entrance of the Qiqirin! “Holy crap it’s a Qiqi- Qique-.... yeah!” Eightyfive mentioned right in the middle of stumbling over her words at the delightful surprise. Pretty much every single one of the four except for Jonathan were either surprised or dumbfounded at the sight of the man. Fortythree ha’d to himself in amusement, while Ryanti could not help but chuckle at the way he spoke, curiously eyeing the coins in his ears. Eightyfive went after the comfort food, preferring starches and meats mostly. Fortythree found his Vylabrand calling with the Lominsian anchovies in particular, and the poached eggs and bred with some turtle meat. He was the one that had the strange tastes. Jonathan and Ryanti went after a healthier pattern, choosing the quiche stuffed with vegetables and the omelettes stuffed with similar veggies and greens. The only meat they ate concerned the dodo breasts and the egg of the omelette. They both had a slice of bread that they ate only with the veggies. They started with the veggies and starch, then ate the meat after. For the protein and to feel full. Both of course would have preferred to eat like Eightyfive, but not while on the job. Eightyfive just had this magical quality about herself to eat –anything- and be just fine. Although all of them generously accepted the water and had themselves all of what was in the bottles. “Thank you so much, Cwaenlona. You’re a lifesaver.” Ryanti mentioned. He had warmed up to her a bit since he had witnessed her tend to others and wave back to him. He could not help but smile fully when everyone else cheered after Susuroon’s mini-speech. He transferred that warm smile in the direction of the Captain, though he was met with a rather odd glance about him and Jonathan that made him think for a moment. After peering at Sounsyy’s dark blots under her eyes and her lack of speaking to the both of them, he sighed a little. It was not long after that he felt a finger tap his shoulder. It was his boss. “So who is going to be the one to talk to her about it?” Jonathan asked Ryanti with a whisper. The young Veanysus turned his attention to his boss by shifting his body to the center of the stool and peering to his right. After swallowing what he had in his mouth, he answered him back. “Do you think she saw it too?” “She chose to see. So she –will- have seen.” Jonathan simply said. “She will approach one of us today at some point. It is natural for her to. She is not yet familiar with the very nature of what we handle.” “Well… “ Ryanti thought for a moment, keeping to himself in a moment of thought as he took a nice healthy swig from his waterskin. “She will probably approach you. After all, you are her equivalent in this joint operation.” “Hmm.” Jonathan mused to himself, taking a small bite out of a single piece of his dodo meat. “Perhaps.” Although the skeptical tone could be heard in his voice, as if the boss knew a thing or two about people though was obviously hiding something from Ryanti. The snowhaired Miqo’te returned that statement with a contorted face. Though spotting the Qiqirin checking on them did take his mind off of the subject. “Hey Susuroon! Where are those foreign currencies from! On your ears?” Few things would take Ryanti’s mind off of something besides wanting to know something else. So there was that question he had wanted to ask him. “Oh. My. GOODNESS! This is SO GOOD!” Eightyfive exclaimed, in the middle of her little food orgasm. It was no question what one of her passions were: eating. She leaned a little forward, putting her arms out in front of her dish as if she was meaning to hug it. “I’m in heaven!” Of course she had spent the last three days eating cold rations, but to the other three, it actually –was- a nice meal. “You make well of what you have here. This is a loving meal for the circumstance.” Fortythree insisted. They all intently listened when Sounsyy gave out their roles for the voyage. Some more than others, as Eightyfive had both cheeks full of … whatever it could be while her tight eyes glanced in Sounsyy’s direction. She was eating much quicker than Ryanti and Jonathan who ate at a normal pace. Fortythree was taking time sampling it seemed, creating a ‘meal’ out of sampling every piece of everything on the cart. “Suddenly, I don’t think I have an appetite… “ Fortythree said solemnly after hearing what he would be doing. A diligent magi having to… sweep the floors? Meanwhile, Eightyfive’s feistiness once again came out over the mentioning of her role. “Helpin’ Sir Noble Grape manage the shite that helps him to blow shite up? Hell yeah!” Ryanti was delightfully pleased at the idea of his role. Wow, so he would be climbing the ship and everything? He did remember enjoying his time with P’welro too. He hoped she wouldn’t mind him starting conversation while working. So he would get to know what it was like to becoming a sailor after all? “I’m excited. I can’t wait to see how it w-“ “-ill be like to spend another day with P’welro?~” Eightyfive chimed while downing the last bits of crust from her quiche. “Will you stop shoving words into my mouth!” Ryanti shouted at her, partially annoyed and a little embarrassed at her making all of these damn rib jokes at him. “Nope.” Eightyfive deadpanned, drinking the last of her waterskin with a complimentary “T-aaahhh!” When it came time to ask questions, all but Jonathan began to open their mouths, but the leader of the group whom had been quietly enjoying his meal set his plate down with a noise that shut all three of them up. He cleared his throat solemnly, and like a mid-thirties farmboy that was pleased with a well-rounded breakfast, he smirked mildly at Sounsyy with a sparkle of thank you in his eyes through the patches of his rough face. “No ma’aaaam.” He drawed out. “My men are ready to work!”

Child characters within the 10-16 range. I have wanted to do it once or twice. Never will come to fruition though. They just come with too much fine print to do it for extended periods of time.

The entrancing silver moonlight that accompanied the group when they slept and watched over them when they had dreamed had faded away to the bright, all-encompassing shroud of the sun. The white light illuminated the room, yet did nothing in rousing the four until a little bit later. They had slept peacefully it seemed. But even though their sleep was deep and solid, their dreams were not. Ryanti suddenly parted his lips wide open with a harsh inhale of the air around him, his eyes shooting open with dilated pupils. He appeared to shake a little bit before letting out an exhale, his blurry vision clearing itself up in moments to witness the others shuffling around upon exiting their slumber. Ryanti’s diaphragm expanded and contracted as a drop of cold sweat traveled down the path of his forehead before he finally calmed himself. He placed his hands upon the floor and sat himself up, as did the rest of the group. They quietly looked around, and then upon one another. Their glances changed into a solemn expression of understanding. It did not take much for them to speak without words; that they had all experienced something that night. It was to be expected. They were much more in the know than the captain, and this was far from their first experience. “You all had those dreams again.” Eightyfive finally mentioned, tiredly reaching for her long hair and banding it up into a ponytail that seemed to jut straight out of the back of her head instead of settle down below it. Ryanti stroked a hand through some of his locks on the side of his head with tired eyes as Fortythree responded. “Trapped in water you cannot feel, in a reality you cannot comprehend with words said to you that you do not understand?” “Yes…” Ryanti trailed off for a moment as he made his own input. “I could almost feel it. Like if I was one of them. Way back when. I saw the door again.” He scratched his shoulder as a melancholy silence fell over the group for a moment before Jonathan spoke up. “This is no coincidence. I believe we all understand what we are to do, and what we are to look for when we get there. We’re getting help from unlikely sources this mission, not just from Limsa. We should be grateful for all the help we can get. Now let’s tell this ship’s crew that we are not lethargic nor lazy, even when offered grace. Get your wits about you and take the clothing that has been given to you. Leave your suits here.” “Yes sir!” They all said in unison, and Jonathan then went to the clothing. Having still had his suit on, he was probably the only person that could get up and do it anyhow. Eightyfive had slept in her underwear, and Ryanti nude. Not to mention the Lalafell. As Jonathan quietly muttered the name of whom the clothing had been given for and tossed them to each individual, Eightyfive felt like she should say something, but she didn’t. She was wide awake because she had slept very well. And she had slept very well because she did not have that dream. That same enticing aurora of the smell coming from the mess hall finally managed to leak into the door and caught the attention of practically everyone. It only served to motivate them to wake up further. It was funny in retrospect that it did not matter whether someone was a simple farmer or a highly specialized Black Label Operative. Everyone needed food, and everyone loved that smell in the morning. When they were ready, they had knocked on the door to let it open. Needless to say, Fortythree was pleased to finally meet the other Lalafell on board. Fortythree was Plainsfolk as well, after all. “Oh, what a lovely morning!” The Lalafell chirped in reaction to seeing him. With Pamido’s own clothing, he could be mistaken for one of them any day at a distance. It was only up close, at viewing his metal plates that had to serve to repair intense injuries to spots on his face, that perhaps it could be surmised that he did not look so Limsa-like. “I do apologize for having to acquire your wears. I do so hope it is not too inconvenient. If I could merely set my eyes on an additional veil, I could hide these... uhh… clumsy metal workings.” He rambled on, almost like a Doctor with too much time on his hands. Eightyfive stifled a giggle. “What he means is that we would like to chow down. Could you lead us to where that smell is coming from?” The pattern of four men and an additional Lalafell’s pacing could be heard from quite a ways away. It was apparent that these Operatives chose to be stealthy when they were and it was not always a natural instinct to hide their steps. Especially when it was early in the morning in the middle of friendly waters. But another reason could be because there –were- no operatives. No, it was merely just another four of Sounsyy’s crew had showed up for breakfast. Jonathan was comfortable in his Shepard’s tunic, which was a dark blue and loam brown in color. He had on him a brown Hempen bandana that he had tied up with rather skilled precision. His grizzled face and look made him fit right in. Eightyfive had on a black vintage doublet vest, her peachy skin on her arms possessing a scar or two of her own, not nearly as much as Jonathan’s insane level of scarring. It was worth noting that Jonathan had chosen to wear the long sleeve. Eightyfive had no hat, still possessing a vanity of keeping her hair looking nice and neat. It was almost if she was made to taunt Sounsyy, though she had no clue about her battle with her hair. Fortythree looked like a splitting image of Pamido. Almost like a cousin. It was normal to think that every Lalafell knew one another anyhow. Ryanti was more comfortable than he expected in his simple Hempen short-sleeved tunic that was a tan in color with a white undershirt. He shared cotton slops of a little darker brown color with Jonathan, and Forager Shoes that were black and a little dusty from being used. Ryanti had not a scar on him, though there was a light blue bruise on his arm. His form fit the Midlander’s clothing very well for a Miqo’te. He was unsure how much of a seabearer he looked. It was amusing to think a Veanysus being a simple sailor. Ryanti wearing this was like if Sounsyy had dressed up for a ball. But still, it felt different. Comfortable. Liberating even. He too had not bothered with a hat. His hair was in a bit of a loose mess. Morning syndrome among other things. He had waved his hand through his hair a few times trying to get it to settle down. Ryanti managed a wave at Cwaenlona, Marjanie, and the Captain, his voice booming through the room. “So!… How do we look?”

Ryanti had lied before. He had told fabrications in his line of work. It was no matter of question that his job often blurred one’s morals and ethics. There was no doubt that he had done things to people, things that would keep a man up at night in order to complete his mission. At least in this line of work. There were indeed words that came out of his mouth during the most critical of times that saved his ass while condemning another. But despite this, Ryanti held onto his values. Despite the additional pain and lack of sleep this gave him, Ryanti did not budge. He could still very well be an honest man to his allies. He could still tell the truth more often than falsehood. He could still be sincere. His heart could still be pure. He did not want to change because of his job. He wanted the world to change because of his job. For the better. The aspiring young man listened intently to her words. There was a large part of him that could believe that Nyemia never spoke. He had become so frustrated with her silence, though he blamed it on his lack of understanding. He had always hoped that her silence was just because Nyemia was watching out for him. That he was not ready to know or understand his fate. That she was holding back because she loved him. She was the only god he ever had faith in. The only one he could depend upon. He invested much of his sentimentality in his fate, believing that he was put on this planet for a very good reason and that he would die satisfied with what he accomplished while he was alive. Ryanti glanced over with tired eyes as Sounsyy shook her head at her situation, and explained to him the reasoning behind what had happened to her. Even though his eyes were tired, they held onto a warm sparkle that reminded anyone bold enough to stare directly at them that they were indeed full of life. Trusting too easily… carelessness. What unfortunate realities of this world! It made Ryanti think about how hard it was to show others his sincerity. He still believed in such things as trust. That any wound, no matter how deep, could still heal. When Sounsyy tried to smile, Ryanti smiled wide enough to show his teeth. His canines were unusually dull for anyone believing him to be a pureblood. He had picked up on the curl of her lips, and it made him feel better. Even in the dampened shade of the quiet moonlight, he could see that curl. It was because he was looking for it. For any trace or clue that she could still smile, or at least try to. Ryanti was an empathetic man; he could almost feel the sensation of Sounsyy’s gears grinding and grinding away. The machine starved of oil and never able to shut down for maintenance or refurbishment. Grinding and grinding away until the cogs and the gears wore out so significantly that they had might as well collapse onto the pool of its own blood, sweat, and tears. He was going to say something, wanted to reach out to her somehow… but then he found himself blocked from her by the Sea Wolf that had been guarding the door. He stroked a bit of his locks away from one of his ears, a little embarrassed that he had been leaning so much on the door, slowly shifting to stand on his own two feet again. Though he did get a word in, as she told him those words that made a wave of reassurance course through his stomach. As she disappeared into the hallway beyond, Ryanti said “Thank you for telling me.” His words faded away as he observed her form fading equally so. His thoughts lingered on her for a moment longer, and Ryanti had to swallow in order to parch his dry throat. It had grown very quiet around him, and he felt like the eyes of the fellow Sea Wolf were beaming down on him at that very moment. Though, because she was the only one around him still awake, Ryanti felt compelled to say one last thing. “Sometimes wounds cannot be healed by time alone.” He mentioned quietly to her, rubbing the back of his neck once or twice with a hand of his, letting out a bit of a sigh right after. “I wish that I could do something.” He decided to say no more, not wanting to become a verbal burden to someone that probably did not desire such a thing in the current moment of peace and quiet she was having before all of this occurred. “Good night.” Was all else he said, and he paced himself into the room he was given, hearing the door close behind him softly after he had made his way in. It was so quiet. The silence was deafening. Ryanti could hear each individual breath from his body exhale and inhale in an uneven pace befitting someone under a spell of heavy thought. His aquamarine gaze bounced off of the rays of the tender moonlight shining through the only small window that provided them light. He walked with the grace of his mother’s blood and the discipline of his training, the result allowing him to be completely silent in a room full of his sleeping compatriots. He placed a hand upon the bottom of the windowsill, his eyes meeting the wondrous moon. For century upon century, his family had all turned themselves in for the night underneath the same heavenly body. Looking up on his own, it was as if he could connect to all of his ancestors that ever looked up to the night sky. It was amazing how he was able to end up here in the first place. Born into privilege, he had made the decision to put his life and well-being into danger, for the sake of following his passion, following his dream. As he experienced that connection to the past, he closed his eyes to the moon, and thought of the distant future. He thought of how people like him, in the far away future, would glance at the moon. Would they view it from a place like this? Inside of a naval vessel sailing the open seas? Would they view it from an inn? From the grassy meadow of a Gridanian riverbank? Or would they view it from an enormous construct of untold height and beauty? And would they be able to do that because of what their ancestors contributed to the world? Because of what Ryanti did? He took three silent steps back, eyeing each of his sleeping compatriots on the floor of the room. The silver moonlight shined down upon them. They slept in different positions. They each wore different amounts of clothing to sleep. They had their blankets wrapped around in different ways. But they were all breathing in the same peaceful rhythm of slumber. It was quiet. Peaceful. Yet Ryanti’s mind was so alive. He had thought of the past. He had thought of the future. Now, as he solemnly began to strip himself of his Sharlayan-issued Black Label uniform, he began to think of the present. After a few quiet snaps and some unbuttoned buttons, the uniform slid off of his body like a veil curtain. He hadn’t a scar on him. His skin was radiant and well-received by the light of the moon. He had been lucky, only sustaining wounds that could heal completely so far in his career. At least on the outside. Where his outside body showed no signs of wear or tear, it was the element of transition that Ryanti was suffering from. A transition from a body drowned in the consequences of handling objects with ancient connections to the world that yet still lingered into the present, to a normal body once more. It was then that he touched his left cheek softly with the tip of his fingers, sliding them down onto the flowing shape of his neck and to his clavicle, remembering a time when it tingled and ached, and when the veins inhabiting that area became saturated with blue, and when he remembered those memories that wasn’t his own. But there were no foreign memories tonight. He had achieved balance once more, and as he became nude to the moon’s gaze and gently pressed himself against the opposite wall of the room, the only memories that he explored were his. Memories of the crew he had just met, feelings of what lied in the not so distant future, anxiety of his mission, an overload of emotion that made him more tired than ever, and of course, the Captain’s smile. His butt gently graced the floor of his spot in the room, and he solemnly tilted his body upon its side. His head rested against the pillow provided for him and he curled underneath the blanket as if desiring to disappear from the reality around him. To enter his own private sanctuary. It was not too soon afterward that he drifted off to sleep. -- [align=center]*End of Day 1*[/align]

Sixteen and Seventy-Seven both locked eyes with one another at the mention of gentlemen, nodding as they turned to face the doorway. They flanked Sounsyy from either side as she opened the barrier between the cozy insides of her cabin, and the wild open sky. The stars were out tonight. There was not a cloud to be seen. The dark evening sky was like a warm blanket that coated the horizon in a velvet sheet of silver moonlight. The slight scent of salt from the waves below them enveloped Ryanti’s senses; his aquamarine eyes blinked once at the sudden gust that came right after. The shroud of the evening coated him and Jonathan also. While Jonathan’s features faded into obscurity, Ryanti’s platinum white hair and light skin felt right at home in the evening’s shroud. His keeper genes from his mother perhaps contributed to that. The young man’s snowy locks twirled and braved around his facial features and scalp as a response to the wind. Before Sounsyy had turned around, Ryanti had leaned himself against the corner of the doorway. He could not help but pause for a moment to observe the tie escape the Captain’s hair. Her brunette hair followed the shape of the wind, and so did his gaze fall upon her. It was the first time he ever saw Sounsyy relaxed. He felt himself hold his breath, for but a moment he asked this beautiful moon tonight to stop moving long enough for him to be able to lose track of time. As there was something else right now more pleasant to his senses than the evening sky. He felt a light tap on his shoulder by Jonathan’s palm, followed by two quiet chuckles from his superior officer. It only took that much to snap him back into the here and now. Ryanti immediately took a step back from the doorway, now outside and holding the artifact close at hand. The two men followed her flank, allowing her space and ample time to continue her duties of keeping supervision over her crew. One that was ignorant of the situation would have thought the two men were bodyguards of Sounsyy’s based on how orderly their paces were. They always kept an equal distance from the captain, no matter how quickly or slowly she walked. Jonathan kept his attention on the Captain at all times, but Ryanti found himself eyeing everyone she addressed. Through the straight by morning? That was an excellent sign. It meant that they would be manuvearing out into the open ocean by daybreak. There was an exciting thought that came from Ryanti; he had never been out in open sea before in this life, and this would be the first time. It will be an adventurous indeed, if the schedule was kept. But there was no question that tonight was unbelievably beautiful from the decks of the Roehmerl. He could not ask for more than this, and he made a mental note to store the memory. P’welro looked straight out of a picture book again, Ryanti thought. She would probably smack him upside his head if he told her that. Or smirk. The moonlight’s shroud over her was like that of the Captain’s; a sight that could very well be a gift from the Navigator. Luckily, both men did not miss the image of the moon as it shone through the windows of the next room they arrived at. At once, they followed the Captain down the aft stairs. Both men were quick to pick up on the nature of the room, but why were they stopping here? Ryanti was the first to find out why, although Jonathan crossed his arms after finding out not too long after Ryanti did. The young Hyqo’te’s memory flashed backwards to the mental image of the Sea Wolf stripping him of his weapons. She had displayed a degree of hesitation in her methods. He knew he was not in a position to try to assume why. He was more occupied with observing Sounsyy’s bare hand that the bandage and gauntlets had kept well hidden. So it was true, her left hand had lost its ring finger. It stung him. He was unsure whether or not her injury had occurred before or after they met the first time in person. He could not imagine sustaining an injury like losing a finger without it causing a certain degree of emotional toil. Yet here she was, proceeding as if nothing important had happened at all but an infected bruise. At least she flinched, enough to tell Ryanti that she was not invincible. He found himself glancing at all five of his fingers on his left hand. It stung again. Jonathan did not bother himself with thoughts like these. He had enough to worry about with his own men. He could not afford to worry about the other side of the fence for now. She did not say anything to him about it, so he returned the favor. Though a smile did escape him when Sounsyy dismissed the idea of an extra pair of hands. Upon following her once more, Ryanti kept his gaze a little longer at the garden the Sea Wolf was watering, mentally noting the kinds of flowers and plants that laid there. It was a better thing to think about than once again witnessing the area in which they first came in and walked themselves right into an ambush by their own allies. Yet the sight of Berasaem cheered him up a bit. He smiled at their approach. Looks like she was doing a good job so far, just like he thought. No fishbacks in sight! So this was when his Superior left him. Jonathan placed one arm upon his breast and bowed politely to Sounsyy’s statements. “I heavily appreciate your pardon from morning’s bell, Captain. Rest assured that when we wake, my men will be fully rested and ready to work.” “Sir.” Ryanti mentioned with a whisper, offering him a parting salute. Jonathan responded with a casual version of their salute – foregoing the leg positions and simply raising his hand affront of his right side and lowering it. Jonathan was almost unnaturally quiet in opening the door – this company was immensely trained in stealth entry after all. “Yes ma’am.” Ryanti replied to Sounsyy’s wordings, with a quieter and calmer tone. He proceeded to follow her. He was quiet at they reached the galley and mess hall, though Ryanti’s working eyes were as observant as ever. He was impressed at the size, for he did not expect one could create such a large room inside of a ship, especially one that was deemed to be smaller than most warships. Ryanti looked slightly less small in this room, being taller than Sounsyy. He found the snoring noise odd but did not question, choosing to just be quiet and follow the Captain. It seemed to be the wise thing to do. He waited patiently for Sounsyy to work her way through wherever she needed to go in order to get to a place where this object could be rested. He was pleased at the technique it took to find it. It would take someone unknowledgeable of the whereabouts to go through a rather long and annoying trial to obtain it, and they would still have to open the damn thing. He felt like he should ask to help her, but… he did not figure that was wise either. “I wouldn’t doubt that their smuggling efforts at least saw some success. This is a good enough spot to place this construct.” He muttered in approval. He got down upon his knees and began to maneuver himself in the semi-awkward realm of positions that could afford him to rest the object down into the hatch without doing any method of harm towards it. A few muffled sounds of stress accompanied this, for it was not exactly the easiest job. But Ryanti did not complain, and he was standing up and dusting off his operative’s suit in no time. Seventy-Seven crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, crossing his feet as well, so that he was able to tap his toes against the floor of the place as Sounsyy placed them away. While Sounsyy worked, the only time she saw Ryanti glance back at her was once. His expression was neutral, though his ears ever so slightly sunk. He was beginning to feel rather oppressed at the idea of not being trusted, even though he understood the logic behind it and the reality he was currently facing at the hands of fate that he had been dealt. Still, he was not prepared for her to directly bring up the course of events that happened when they met for the first time. He still remembered that day very keenly. He blinked and his ears tightened back up to where they normally rested, taking a few steps away from leaning against the wall in order to trail her. His eyes trailed his intuition, and found her gauntlets bending towards the palm of her hand in a slight clenching motion. She was not relaxed anymore, not like she was on the deck of the ship when the sea’s breeze enveloped her. Was he responsible? It seemed that he always was. He had told her before that he would never bring her pain. But he always seemed to bring pain to anyone he knew. “Sounsyy..” He quietly said to himself. Her question hit him in a soft spot, and Ryanti’s demeanor became rather melancholy and lethargic. He had been thinking about that since he had arrived. How bad it looked. How him approaching her on Thanalan’s sands that day and answering his heart’s calling to challenge someone he looked up to fifteen years ago… might have bit him in the ass. In the most unlikely way possible. “I fear that you may only accept one kind of answer, a kind I cannot indulge you with.” Ryanti murmured in response to her question, contemplating his words in his mind as they proceeded towards the chambers. He was beginning to feel rather horrible now. He didn’t know how she would take this. “The duel was no test, or obligation of mine. One thing you need to understand is that our unit’s responsibility is to handle extremely sensitive situations that are kept away from the public and even some of the inner layers of our governments. We are the bogey men. We are faced with certain unalienable truths that are sometimes passed off as legend or myth spoken by mother to child at bed time. That keeps us from being able to afford things like, being able to know who we are going to be working with prior to a mission.” He audibly sighed, and wiped a hair through his platinum white locks. “You did not know who you were working with until you met us, yeah? We can’t just, know. Not in our world. Someone might find out that we know, or you know. They could sell you out, or kill you. They could go after your family, or whatever and whoever you love and cherish the most. While simultaneously comprising the safety and security of the well-being of Hydealyn’s people. We don’t even know our own Fireteam Leader until we all arrive at the location and time specified. We are expected to just organize and get along. It can unusual, fast, and rough, but we have no choice. It is how we have to do things.” He was silent for a moment, before speaking again. The melancholy in his voice was more evident this time. “There are so many big and important factors behind the scenes. My superiors and Sixteen’s superiors. I’m… I’m just an Operative, Sounsyy. Someone who has this as some kind of double life. Someone who chose to accept a proposition brought forth to me because of what I was willing to risk in order to pursue something that I believe in. I don’t… know a lot of the inner workings. I don’t know why people get picked, get chosen for these kinds of assignments. I don’t know where any of my compatriots on this vessel came from, what their stories are or why they got chosen to be on this ship with me. I don’t know why –you- are here either. It was not us that selected you, but your government.” He stopped in front of the door leading to his company’s lodgings. But this time, he took a few quick steps to zip in front of Sounsyy and turned around to face her after doing so. He frowned a bit at her for a moment or so, before solemnly reaching into a small pocket that was sewn onto his pectoral. “I am not supposed to show you this, but…” He murmured with the faintest of whispers. “There is nothing on here that you would not already know.” What he pulled out appeared to be a small document that had been folded tightly into a square shape and stuffed into his pocket. He glimpsed at it for but a moment, before handing it to her. “This is my dead drop document that explains my orders. This is what we acquire if we choose to accept a mission offered to us by our superiors. We have a slang for them: our ‘manifests’. It is a necessity that we burn them prior to reaching hostile territory. Some of us have formulated the act of burning our manifests as a ritual of good luck. However, we have not burned ours yet. If you do not believe that I had no prior knowledge of you being a part of this mission, see for yourself.” With that, Ryanti handed her the manifest.

"Are there any more stunts you could pull off with a wave of the finger?" Ryanti seems to be proficient in James Bond-style puns. Though really, what he would see in front of him would make him curious more than anything else. Perhaps amused at what he saw. He uses humor to mask his fear often as well, he wouldn't want to be seen as someone sucking his thumb after having his life saved. If said black mage hovered around for more than a moment or two, Ryanti would be sure to thank him/her sincerely though. Even in humor he would want to reassure that he is thankful.

That looks like a homicide investigation.

"Boy." "Kid." Or anything else that would be compared to assuming Ryanti is not a capable person.

Sounds very organized, exciting, and above all: lovely. I'll definitely make it if I can. Right up Ryanti's alley.

This works out very well for my character, and his family history. Ryanti's father is Hyur, and his side of the family is Hyur. They have been a mainstay of Ul'Dah for hundreds of years, but they go back to Ishgard before that. However, the family has been out of touch with their ties to the North and their history of them being up there. So basically, Ryanti wants to go up there to fulfill a personal quest of re-discovering his family's history; his ancient lineage is what he wants to uncover. Deviating from personal reasons to business ones, Ryanti wants to get into investing for Skysteel Industries. He also wants to get his family's focus away from Ul'Dah for good especially because of all that's happened recently. Also, Sharlayan remnants are up there, and he needs to follow that too. His superiors for his black label job are up North. All of the arrows seem to point North for him, so North he will go.

Ryanti had placed his hand behind his neck to unkink some of the muscles there. After hearing P’welro’s response, the young man figured that yes, perhaps this entire crew was far from the most virtuous of vocabulary? He had a brief thought going back to how much his entire life had changed over the past few years. Everything still felt so new, breathtaking and exciting. He could label these people he was meeting as such. It caused him to smile authentically. It was a very warm one. After taking a few steps towards the door, a bit of his Halfling blood rushed to his cheeks after Berasaem made her little comment. He handled it well however, choosing to respond to it with a passing wink of his eye towards her. “I’m sure I can handle that ‘scenario’, and I have faith you can handle yours.” Ryanti placed his hands behind his back, speeding up his walking a slight tad in order to catch up quickly. When he cleared the thin hallway, he let out a large breath and pinned his head upwards to witness the majestic display of the bowsprit. In the back of his mind, he marveled at what engineering went into what appeared to be a simple scouting vessel from the outside. His gaze started above him, and then followed the shape of the vessel downward, focusing his attention at the gadgetry and marvels that laid out before him. This was a very impressive arsenal of weaponry for a vessel this size. He had expected less. It pleased him, for he knew that this kind of mission required a good amount of versatility when it came to arms. It was paramount that they could counter any threat should the last resort of direct conflict be necessary. Ryanti had no interest in perishing and if that was inevitable, he would have wanted this crew to take as many down with them as possible. Though he knew that what they possessed on this ship was worth any amount of lives to Garlemald. He hoped that this crew would understand that. He smiled a little at the realization that there was life in this room beyond him and P’welro. He resisted the urge to recite some fancy words of his own at the Keeper’s comment. From where he came from, fanciness was not in lack. He could not really pick out her features from the darkness of her surroundings, but he could tell by her eyes that she was a woman. “A room full of maniacal firepower, accompanied by two women. P’welro, are you meaning to please my inner masculine tapwell?” He murmured in a cheerful mood. Ryanti nodded in acknowledgement of her name. Jada could tell because her eyes were not the only ones that seemed to glow in the dark. Ryanti’s aquamarine eyes were no stranger to absorbing moonlight. “Pleasure to meet you, Jada.” He said, with a tone of grammar and an accent that definitely did not belong to a sailor of the seas. He almost burst out into a laugh before P’welro did at her assumption, knowing his true request for being here was a little odder than that. Ryanti took a moment to place his own elbows on the very desk that Jada had moments prior, watching her turn back to rummage through all of the storage that laid behind her. It was one of the few moments that Ryanti’s tail moved. It stretched a bit with a single fluid motion from one side to another, before once again resting behind him idly. The young man hardly moved his tail unless it was to stretch the muscles that laid stiff after being still long enough. The same could be said of his ears. Was it a posture he chose? Or was it something he could not change? Nonetheless, Ryanti was definitely a people person. He took good pleasure in meeting these people, and observing how their daily lives were. His curious eyes glanced over at what her hands were rummaging through, but he could not pick out anything specific. What he could have done was place on his Sharlayan goggles, which had the ability to allow him to see in the dark. But they were confiscated along with everything else he had on him. He was still nervous about being on this mission without his equipment on him, but he understood that they needed to play the part of the crew. That was right, there –was- no such unit as his aboard. Just the squadron. “The Captain?” Ryanti questioned P’welro as she tended to her linkpearl. For a moment, he was a little taken off guard. But then he remembered that his Superior was still in the Cabin discussing business. As the Keeper of the Artifact, it was his duty to see safe that object until the task was completed. He had to retrieve that object before they all retired, and so he proceeded after the First Mate. He could not help but smile here as he tasted his first breath of the outside air of what would become the water’s domain. This ship was on one of Limsa’s darlings, and it was a new experience for him as well. He gave those aboard what he understood as a casual salute, witnessing Marjanie guiding the ship through its trial, of which it had just only begun. This was the kind of life he wanted. A life of adventure and purpose. He thought about that a little bit longer as his pose resumed that of a professional operative. He waited in anticipation for the door to open. -- Jonathan was late in taking a seat from the conversation they had before, but when Sounsyy began mentioning the extent of her knowledge of one of his men in his unit, he finally pulled the stood beside himself and sat himself down upon it. The rugged man stifled a short smirking laugh at the idea of Ryanti dueling her, and Sounsyy’s assumption. “Ah, do you did time in the Bloodsands, did you? There are a few among us who have as well, though none on this voyage.” He crossed his arms and leaned himself back on his stool. Since there was no backrest, it was merely a gesture to correct his posture. He proceeded to watch her trying in vain to fix her hair. “Though, we do not choose who we work with. We do not know whom we are working with until we see each other in person.” He did manage to comment as she was doing so, but dropped the subject when he brought up her crew. He was not really interested in discussing how his unit worked beyond defending the integrity of his men. He enjoyed her dialogue of understanding what leadership truly takes in order to deserve consistent loyalty from her crew. She was preaching to the choir. Her responsibility was also Jonathan’s. The older man smirked at the idea of a peaceful run-in. Perhaps in an ideal world. With that thought gone, he focused intently on the map, analyzing everything on it. It was becoming a bit of a hint that Sixteen’s ability to analyze and recall information with pinpoint efficiency was a talent that the Overseers valued in him. He placed an index finger and a thumb on his chin in thought as he listened to the Captain lay out the map for him. The hostile possibilities were very plentiful, and the odds were very much stacked against them. “Of course I must consult to you that my Unit’s priorities during this voyage are to stay under cover, and that we desire to avoid conflict if at all possible. Our wishes include slipping under the gaze of every passing vessel out to sea, though we are as fully capable of utilizing your equipment as we are of ours.” Sixteen covered his nose with the inner folds of his elbow as he passed a sneeze. “The weapons that were provided to us are meant to be used at the objective site and are classified technology. To use them on board this ship would greatly increase the capability of our firepower – however, if our Unit is to expose ourselves, every hostile witness of our presence would have to be eliminated. We cannot afford a Garlean witness, or even a bumbling Sahagin, to spread the word about what they may see.” “I will grant you the retreat of our Keeper to below deck if trouble occurs. Each member of my unit is incredibly capable as per my endorsement – as an extension of your crew, myself and my team will follow your orders in battle. If we must bring out our equipment, their orders will fall under my umbrella.” He sat up from his stool and moved it aside as Sounsyy addressed Ryanti and P’welro to come to her cabin. “I assure you Captain that we have slept like babies in much worse – a simple pillow and blanket we are gracious of. Any kind of mattress is a bonus.” Once he placed the stool back where it was before, he maneuvered himself to flank the door leading to her cabin with his hands behind his back and his feet space out in a very specific distance. The case remained on Sounsyy’s desk, silent and nonchalant. Yet perhaps it did not appear to be such anymore after witnessing what was inside it. -- Ryanti calmly observed Sounsyy opening the door. He understood that this environment was professional right now, so all of the thoughts he had about addressing her in a more personal manner would just have to wait. This was still unusual to him though. The very person whom was the Captain of this crew was… her? Of all people, the very same person Ryanti met to test both his and her skill against one another? The very same person he looked up to as a child? He felt unsure of the future. Unsure of what would happen. Was this Nyemia’s doing or a pure coincidence? “Sir Sixteen.” Ryanti addressed his superior with a shift of his feet to face him in a tight and formal military pose, with the palm of his right hand shielding his frontal-right cheek, eye, and forehead. Sixteen responded. It was their formal salute. It was meant to symbolize secrecy. If two individuals were to do it to each other in address, neither would be able to glance upon the other’s face. “At ease, Seventy-Seven. I am dismissing myself for the evening. Return to our lodging when your task is complete.” Sixteen commanded, and Ryanti finished his salute by slicing the air by the gesture of returning his right hand to his side and spun on his heels to face the Captain, easing up after and absorbing the environment of her cabin. He leaned a little more on his right leg and placed the elbow of his right arm on top of the back of his left hand to support it as an idle index finger graced the white locks on the side of his face. “Wow.” He murmured, with a very brief set of chuckles afterwords. His strong aquamarine eyes returned to Sounsyy as she gave him her suggestion of where to place the object of importance. His gaze grew in seriousness as she ended her dialogue. The young man slowly but methodically approached the black lockbox resting upon Sounsyy’s desk. He gently placed his hands upon either side of it. He displayed great care of handling it by lifting it off the desk without shuffling a single thing or making a single noise. “I would elect to use one of your hidden compartments. I need to spare mentioning which specific one I place the VIA in to whoever accompanies me. Therefore I personally request that it is you yourself who takes me there, Captain. If not, I would require whoever accompanies me to stand outside the room while I place it away. I will inform you and only you, and you may choose who to disclose it to as it is your right but… I hope you do only to people you trust with your life. Oh, and VIA stands for Very Important Anomaly, by the way. It is code we use.”