Aya

One of the great beauties of the FF XIV world is how it makes "simple" characters such an easy and natural part of things. There is no need to be grand or glorious to belong, and even modest talent allows such a "mundane" character to fit in amongst the adventurers who travel Eorzea, while maintaining close proximity to those wonderfully poignant and relatable tensions of everyday like (family, social, economic, legal, etc.). Embrace it! Its a wonderful opportunity and part of why I LOVE FF XIV RP.

[align=center][/align] [align=center][A Curious Delivery - The Curious Curio Part Three][/align] Ul'dah, mid-winter. This time of year Thanalan greets traveler and resident alike with its own brand of teasing disdain. One day the sun shines bright, dispelling the chill of night and blanketing the region with a winter warmth that makes the rest of the continent, locked in frost or mist, jealous of it radiant clime. Yet, others remind the weary that it is yet the desert's wet season. When the gray heavens break open in rampant, soaking downpours that fill aqueducts that flow rapidly to refill reservoirs that threaten toward overflowing. It was one of these later days that greeted Aya on her latest return from Gridania. Despite being wrapped in a heavy waterproof over coat, there was no denying the sight of the young women as she disembarked the airship with her steeply heeled boots, and soaked locks of golden blonde hair falling down her shoulders and chest from the front of her hood. Her red lips stood out like a beacon from the gray and brown background, but her expression was not the cheerful smile most are acquainted with, but the downcast look of the drearily exhausted. Not that anyone was there to greet her and take note. With neither sound nor sigh she lifted the single bag of her light luggage and trudged across the dry landing toward the stairs that descended the tall hangar tower. If any of the porters called to see if she wanted her luggage carried, she did not notice. The sight of the rain-filled square at the bottom of the tower was just what she had expected; still it seemed daunting nonetheless. She know why she continued to make the trips north despite all the trouble they were: it was for more than M. Vann's shows. More than the pretty clothes, shared smiles, and handsome pay. It would probably take more than that to find her trudging too and fro in the middle of an Eorzean winter. But something was afoot - this much she knew. Between tho Ghosts and the villain who was loose, she had felt compelled to keep her eye on things. The welcome sight of the Quicksand as she turned the corner drew from her a deep breath of relief. There it was! That scent of Ul'dah. Heady spice, ale, spirits, and warm food. It was home, but more than home still. As she pushed the door open with her slender shoulder she could not help but smile. That subtle little upturn of the lips that spoke of the girl's easy but genuine good cheer even under the such dreary circumstances. It was a little expression; one that she could not resist offering no matter the cloud that hung over her drenched head. Her thoughts turned to a warm bath, and the taste of chocolate and chamomile. The door swung quietly closed behind her. A handful of regular patrons turned toward her, raising their cups in an excited and teasing greeting to the rain-soaked barmaid. She waved back with her free hand, offering that little smile, and declining a fellow's offer to carry her bag. The Lalafel proprietess nodded to her prize employee with a mischievous little smile of her own. But the blonde had no interest in chit-chat this wet evening, and made her way to the stairs that climbed up to the rooms of the Hourglass. As she mounted the first few steps, the call of her name brought her to a halt. "Oi! Miss Foxheart, I've got a package 'ere for you." Exclaimed a Hyur Bellhop. Otopa Pottopa stood quietly behind his desk and addressed the two of them just slightly turning toward Aya, "Ah, yes, thank you. I had forgotten. Yance, if you would do me a favor would you fetch the Miss's mail?" The Highlander had already started on his way to the back room, and answered the request with a wave of the hand completely out of the view of the Lalafel who had not bothered to turn around. "Merry Starlight, I presume, miss." Yance said with a doff of his cap, offering the small package to Aya who had waited in quiet, drenched confusion at the bottom of the stair. "Thank you..." she answered with an unsure tenor in her voice as she accepted the small package. She examined the box, turning it over in her hand as she made the long way to her room. It was not much larger than an envelope, perhaps ten ilm by six, and only half an ilm in thickness. Fishing her key out of her purse, which itself was under her coat, proved a bit of a struggle, she slipped inside to the comfort of her own little room. She set the bag and box aside and let out an audible breath, almost a sigh, as she tiredly removed the wet overcoat one arm at a time. Drops of water splash against the floor with a regular cadence: she'd really gotten into it this time. With a tired hand she pulled wet strands of her hair out of her eyes and began the slow walk through her little apartment that was her home. So badly she had wished for a pot of chamomile tea, but she did not care for any further delay in that warm bath she had envisioned for what felt like hours. She cast a momentary look toward the lonely little bed, and the tiny desk that were the furniture of the room, before turning her attention to her bath. The one great comfort of the entire space: she sat upon its edge, and turned a valve to start the flow of heated water. Into the running water she sprinkled bath salts, then a pearl of oil, and a scoop of soap for bubbles. As the warmth of the bath water filled the room with fresh steam, made fragrant by the oils and salts, she slipped the wet clothing from her drenched figure. She'd been looking forward to this for how long? She returned to her main room as the bath continued to fill - laughing as she took a moment to examine the middle of the mostly bare space of the room. She thought back to the dance of the First Snowfall that she had performed a few weeks prior and she swayed her body to and fro in several of the motions of that dance bringing back such recent fond memories. Almost an afterthought, she grabbed the box and took it with her as she entered the bath. She lowered in first one foot and then the other as she sucked in a breath between grit teeth, her body slowly acclimating to the heat of the water. She allowed herself to slide in up to her chin, her whole form vanishing beneath the silky bubbly, fragrant warmth of the bath. There she lay for whole minutes. Barely a thought in her mind. The troubles and pains of the day slip, slipping away amid a sea of comfort and warmth. Letting out a deep, relieved sigh she finally reached out of the bath to lift up the unexpected package and slipped out the packing label for examination. To: Aya Foxheart, Quicksand, Ul'dah From: Escrow and Sons, Limsa Lominsa She shot up in the bath, the quick motion causing a back and forth wave that sent water pouring over the edge and down onto the tiled floor. She leaned over the edge of the bath, holding the package away from the edge so that it could not fall into the water. She tore at it with her fingers, eyes fixed upon it like an excited child with a Starlight Gift. "They mailed it?" She thought to herself, "They risked mailing it?" In a flurried moment she had it open: there it was. A delicate piece of rock-like crystal. It seemed to shift almost imperceptible from blue to pink - dull hues that refused to shimmer, but were unmistakable to the eyes nonetheless. She gasped, and her body lurched. She extended both arms straight out ahead of her, upper arms resting on the edge of the bath as her head fell lower and lower into the water until just her eyes remained above water: staring intently upon the crystal that seemed to hum silently with an innate power. How long had it been? How many months? Had she given up hope or just forgotten? Escrow was just the sort of man that Limsa was famous for. A sailor, in his youth it was rumored that he had been a pirate. The stories went that he had been marooned for sleeping with the captain's woman, but that he was picked up by a passing ship and charmed the crew into making him their own captain. Regardless of his origins, his specialty now was acquiring whatever it was you wanted. The rare, exotic and esoteric. From the goods of the East, to rare forms of art, and any variety of specialized commodity: if it could be found, he would find it—For the right price. And what had the price been? She couldn't even remember, all she could remember was that sly smile and the shake of hands. Who had charmed whom? Regardless: here it was. Here it was! She scrambled out of the bath, spilling buckets worth of water over the edge as she shot out in an excited hurry. She was even more drenched now than earlier, and the floor of her floor became akin to a shallow pool. She grabbed a cigar box from the shelf over her work desk, and set it down with a forced gentleness that resisted the energetic rush of her excitement. Opening the lid she was greeted by the myriad parts of the watch-locket she had disassembled almost a year ago. She restrained her hand which wanted to lash out and seize the object of her attention. Instead, she reached in with a very controlled, and cautious care. Delicately she withdrew the main body of the watch from amidst the labeled and bagged components. It had been left open and bare all this time. She blew away the very thin layer of dust that had accumulated on its exposed surfaces and pressed the crystal into the slot she had opened beneath all of the clockwork. It fit exactly. The dimensions were just right. For a moment she stared in wide-eyed disbelief. A quiet had fallen over her excitement, punctuated only by the steady dripping of water. A silence, broken at last, when she jumped into the air, letting out a squeal of excitement.

The Master's hopeful smile shifted seamlessly to one of relief. He nodded to V'aleera, "It is a pleasure to meet you at last. My apprentice tells me that you have met his sister? I hope that you have found her well. She used to be a common sight around here, its been rather quiet without her." As the woman stepped back, Dunois' gaze shifted to the other smith. His white eyebrows furrowed with an expression of confusion and surprise. "Ah..." he interjected in Ishgardian with a sudden smile, "Not a child!" he laughed with a quiet heartiness. Extending his hand to Chachanji he turned to heavily accented common, "A pleasure, Monsieur. It has been long since I have known many of your people. Welcome to our humble shop." He turned back to his papers, tapping the stack straight before raising himself from the stool with some effort. "If I understand correctly, it is not just a favor, but an exchange of favors. But you are welcome nonetheless!" The master of the shop stood heads above the other two and politely ushered them from the small office, up a few of wooden stairs to the shop floor itself. The shop was of moderate size, with a heavy and worn planked floor, tiled over near the forge itself. Huge wooden beams of considerable age held up the heavy slate and metal roof over their heads, the trusses supported by two sets of paired heavy poles along the center-line of the shop. Work stations lined the wall, each a workbench several feet long with its own set of tools. One large wooden table dominated the left-hand side of the room as they entered, covered with completed and in-progress works. In other times these may have been rows of bladed weapons, but at this time they consisted mostly of building materials. Bucket after bucket of nails, a crate of heavy steel door hinges, and all variety of iron work for construction. On the right half was the large forge, fired by coal and fed by an auto-bellows that clicked and ground between the steady "whooshes" of blown air. In front of the forges sat a set of anvils, and a variety of tools. It appeared enough for at least two smiths to be working simultaneously on the same project. Osvald, the smith's apprentice, approaching master status himself, had his back turned to the group as they entered. He and a young boy of twelve or thirteen busied themselves shoveling coal from the exterior hopper into the forge. Osvald could be described as a mountain of a Highlander. Chachanji, viewing him from behind, may well have mistook him for a Roegadyn. His broad chest supported massive shoulders that bore the weight of his trade, and the massive arms that would have terrified opponents in either the Blood Sands or the Grind Stone were they not put to more productive use at the Forge. His head was covered by a hooded cap, a pair of goggles apparently lifted to rest on top of the cap. He emptied a shovelful of coal that must have weighed more than twice that of the Lalafel himself into the forge, while the boy's contribution of small shovelfuls seemed entirely an afterthought by comparison. "Osvald, our guest smith has arrived!" The Master hollered over the din of the working shop. The highlander began to turn, his square-jawed and chiseled face turning toward them with a stoic emotionless belied by the sharpness of blue eyes that shone out of the dark grime that covered tho portion of his face not normally protected by the goggles. Despite their glaring differences, the family resemblance to his sister could not be missed by the observant Lalafel.

For Aya's story: Freedom. For Aya herself, it may be: Beauty. In its many forms, but most essentially in the art of performance.

Lol! Happy Beer didn't make the cut?

The Falconer's shirt? :-X You guys are too sweet! I couldn't use any of the others~~~

OOC! I am working on another story post, but first I took some time to build a table of contents for all of my RP posts and threads! In some sense I like having most of my writing focused in two threads (this one and my One Late Summer Limsan Afternoon thread), but this thread especially is also filled with some forum RP so I suspect it is more than a little confusing to find anything, or to "follow"! Anyway, if anyone is ever interested in perusing my RP writings for Aya there's now a handy resource yay! Its in the first post of this thread or: Click Here. Thank you to anyone reading!

Losing RP partners and friends is life . It really cannot be avoided. What really makes the difference is meeting new people and making new friends to keep things going.

Thieves cant? Where can I meet you!!! :-D

This is something that I worry about all the time in dealings with other people. Am I being unfair? Is it just the character who is such a jerk? The IC world needs jerks for it to feel immersive, it also needs outright bad guys: but is that bad guy doing it to explore a different angle and enrich the community itself or is he another sociopath? Is it worth the risk of getting to know him better to find out? We should be thankful for those that do, but it can be so hard to tell. It is helpful sometimes to get that OOC whisper: "I know I am being a jerk but that's just my character". But sometimes you are left never knowing, and in those cases why would you seek that character out for future RP? One of the unfairnesses of life I suppose.

*Jumps Jumps Jumps! - more like Bounces!* Very Belated Welcome to the RPC! Really cute drawing!

Thank you Queenie!! :love::love::love: Still one of my favorite efforts in my MMO experience, and they turned out so well! I still have more out takes I could post sometime! ^^ (I also have commissioned a drawing based on these, will see how that turn out! )

Hmmm... Grindstone After Party? Interesting :-D

The seated figure was that of an elder Duskwight. Though he possessed the expected tall figure, his frame was not as lanky as one usually associates with the Elezen. His torso possessed some width, and the look of his shoulders was one of formidable strength. He had every sign of having once been an imposing figure, though the suffering of his dotage had long ago worn away the veneer. Still, he smiled pleasantly, and extended his left hand, long fingers beckoning the visitors into his office. His right arm was still supported by a sling hung around his neck, though otherwise he did not appear immediately the worse for wear. "Oh yes, yes!" he greeted them with his deep, sonorous voice in energetic Ishgardian. "You must be the Dragoon of whom Osvald spoke?" There was a hint of hope in his voice: none of the alternatives appeared quite as comfortable. The pile of letters regarding missed deadlines only seemed to grow higher upon his desk each day, and a general apprehension hung over the arrival of a representative of the military.

Sorry to hear Nat! I always read a McBeef™ post when I see it! And of course you've been a huge part of my enjoyment of FF! I hope you have something in mind for Friends in the meantime?

Aya is an Ala Mhigan born Highlander Ishgardian (albeit represented in game with a midlander model ). Her family escaped Gyr Abania as the Garlean invasion was preparing, and slipped in ahead of the gates closing as refugees (with relatives in the city taking them in, since I doubt Ishgard took in refugees out of the kindness of its collective heart).

Need for Speed and Mass Effect (in Afterlife) both used this track. What more could you want?

Welcome to the RPC!

HELLO! :-D

Okhi Okhi always makes for smiles! The new art is a nice touch too! :-D

I think it's beyond silly. Leave it to single player games please!

Not supposed to go just to make friends? ^^

I am going to echo what C said (never gonna be Setoh!), that I really prefer RP that comes about naturally. That's not to say that I do not enjoy plotlines, which I do enjoy (and which I appreciate even beyond my enjoyment for all of the effort, work, and creative energy they require), but if it feels like the story is already developed and we are only writing in the dialogue, I tend to lose interest. I also don't care much for real "dark" RP - so often it feels like forced drama meant to make itself worthy of the title; something more akin to a depressed soap opera. It just ends up feeling forced and trite. It has its place: life is full of darkness and negative things, but I prefer to find that in stories and plots that did not set out just to achieve that. Slice-of-Life is my bread and butter. Its what I do to pass time and just have fun, its what I do to meet people, and to try to make our RP community a more enjoyable, more immersive, and more satisfying place to play. Its not the end-all-of-end-alls, but I don't think that you can have a well-rounded, believable character without it. And, in terms of meeting people, I still feel like it is just the best.

Mbajihari is so friendly in her posts, and... finger sandwiches, yes! :-D She knows just what to be thankful for!

Warren, Please rephrase this using the names of wrestling moves. ~Aya