Zhavi

I wish the females were rougher looking.

Fucked up.

I think I could maybe very well get along with you. Welcome to the RPC. (Zhi likes to play with dice too, frequently, preferably while drunk. Just sayin'.)

These types of threads amuse me a bit. Many, many people frequently bemoan how shallow and superficial humanity tends to be when it comes to what gets promoted as physical ideals and standards, all the while actively seeking out the same or similar things that match their own standards. I mean, look at the avatars people choose to use to represent their characters that they personally created here on the RPC! Pretty! Beautiful! Handsome! Hnng! Yeah, the cast is pretty. All of them. Some I'd go so far as to call gorgeous. So what? It sells. Not only does it sell really damn well in Japan, they've proven time and time and again that their western audiences will also lap up that aesthetic with a most enthusiastic "may I have another?" So, yup, until fashion standards change for men in Japan, until they decide their audience is older and past all that pop beauty nonsense, until they decide that the FF series is about more than beautiful people beating up other beautiful people for reasons: expect lots, and lots, and lots more beautiful men and women with weird ass costumes. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in my bunk.

I'm not pagan, but Happy Solstice right back atcha!

...yeah, this will be my first Christmas in 8 years without a SO. It's rough. *hugs* ......I hate Christmas music. I worked in a Santa Clause tourist shop right out of high school (constant, constant Christmas music year-round). Almost ten years later and I still get twitchy when they play for more than a few minutes.

Wheee fun! Last bday. Me with two of my favorite things: sushi and sake. There may have been some tipsyness at this point. Me with Aussie buddy at the hot springs with ex. Near the Arctic Circle climbing on rocks because they were there and why not.

My current SSD was sold to me at the same price the current 250 GB is. And it's only 126GB or less if it was actually possible. I think only HDDs were 80? My SSD is only like 60 some gigs. . .so yeahhhh.

I need to get a new SSD... mama wants more gigs. Thanks for the reminder that prices are a lot nicer now then they were when I got mine. : x

Solitaire wasn't the sort of runner who just let things happen. He was meticulous, orderly, and knew how to play his hand. It was his success at cards, from an early age, that had lead to the moniker he was most widely known by. He played high-stakes games, always: anything less left him bored. He didn't always win. He made mistakes, sometimes. He never made the same mistake twice. Reputation was an important thing on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, and Solitaire had worked very hard to maintain his. Sure, he might not be a big name, but his ascension was never questioned, only delayed. He was sharing a bowl of embers with two of his regulars -- men who needed quick, reliable, and trustworthy runners to move subtle packages and even subtler words -- when he heard the first rumor. Little kitten, broken tail. It didn't register at first; he was busy with his own jobs, and didn't have time to keep track of every whelp that annoyed him. He had ambition, and he was not the sort to get sidetracked by insignificant rumors. But it stuck in his mind to be replayed long after he'd left his customers and made his way back to his bed. And there, in the dead of night, it took root in his brain. An interest in a rivalry that had long ago soured into something worse, into something he only trifled with when he had something to gain. He was curious, but that emotion was quickly squashed. He had some information in regards to the scrag with a broken tail, and if it gained him more contacts then so be it. Solitaire would make inquiries in the morning. _________________ It hadn't even been a bell since she'd docked. The urge to ask if the man who had come to her with the information was serious was strong, but she stuffed it. Only those who were weak needed to hear something twice, and Litha was anything but that. There were many books in Limsa Lominsa. At any given time there were people looking for some of those books, any number of those books, and in some cases they sought books that weren't even in the city. So there was absolutely no guarantee, there was only a small glimmer of a chance, that the whispers currently plaguing the city in regards to a book were in regards to the book she was concerned with. Good fellow. Those two words. Those two rutting words. They were infuriating, and they were the small seed of chance that made her hesitate over chastising the man for bothering her with unimportant information. He was paid handsomely to provide her with pertinent information. It wasn't like he was an idiot. "I need more," she said, staring him down though he was at least a fulm taller than she. "Give me somethin' I can work with, else you're wastin' my time for naught." They wouldn't let her down. They wouldn't dare. ______________ "Hey." Nothing. "Hey." The stool Zhi was sitting on tipped, and then spilled her to the ground. It wasn't the first time such had happened to her, and she awoke with the instincts of someone who expected to be knifed in the next few seconds. It wasn't amusing to the man who'd woken her. "We're closin'. Pay th'ruttin' tab an' get out." Zhi hadn't remembered falling asleep at the bar, nor did she remember the last bell or so preceding it. She'd been happy, she knew that, and as she slowly and carefully righted herself she remembered why. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her purse, and started clumsily sorting through coin. "'Ow much?" "Seventy-nine." She blinked. Looked up. After her night of boozing and spending, she didn't have that much left. The man read her intention a full second too late, and she was scrambling for the door with him hot on her heels. Didn't matter that she was still full drunk -- she'd done plenty of running with a buzz from far worse things. Didn't matter she'd gone just about broke on her all-night binge, neither, or that she couldn't remember exactly where in the city she was. As she slammed through the door and hit the street, only one thing mattered in her mind: she had the names of two of Galleon's rivals. She had a means of ridding herself of the book.

<3s to Ruru for keeping me informed while I was gone, and always being encouraging even when I expressed doubt. He's one of the most staunchest rp buddies I've had, and I very much appreciate having someone like that I can talk to and scheme with -- it makes the rp more fulfilling for me. I also wanted to give kudos to Goodfellow for sticking with me. Eight months ago, I sent him a pm. It was a shot in the dark; I'd never talked to him before. I've done this with many, many people. Some have stuck, and some haven't. When it comes to rp, you have to work with people on some level ooc, and your characters have to mesh ic. That means, a lot of the time, things don't work out. It happens; that's rp for you. We planned a thread. It wasn't the first time. I've planned lots of threads with lots of people. In that month alone I must have sent out at least 10 pms to different people, all planning different things with the hope for a payoff that would give that burst of adrenaline and nerd chills that makes rp my most beloved vice and hobby. Some delivered, some didn't. We had a plot, we had a goal, and for eight months (excluding the two I needed to take a break) we wrote. Back and forth, never meeting in game, requiring more than a few backtracks to make sure that the rp we were writing on the forums didn't conflict with stuff going on in game. It was slow, and sometimes frustrating. I am a forum whore. At any given time I am in 25+ different rp threads, with around 20 different characters. Some of those are fast, some of those are slow, but none have lasted as long with the number of posts as Innocence and Avarice. As of this post, we reached the end of the initial plot set-up. I initially reached out to him because of his character's time spent as Goodfellow. And this line -- gave me those chills. Kudos to Goodfellow, for being such a great writer to play opposite. I look forward to the ensuing chaos. Cheers, and here's to the thread that just won't die.

Zhi is such a dork when it comes to gambling. She knows she's not super good, really, but once she sits at the table she just can't help herself. She wins juuust enough to keep coming back for more.

Zhi's a fan of anything that keeps her up and moving. So she'd get whatever old wives' remedy was making appearances that season, and stock up on her favorite addictions. Then she'd be likely to keep going until she drops. She doesn't like to keep still if she can help it.

Bright, obnoxious, harsh. Green is Zhi's favorite color. She has utterly no sense of fashion, which can be hard for me because I want everything to match. I typically keep at least one item of green (usually shoes, which she has a favorite, beat-up pair she's almost always wearing, particularly because even used shoes are expensive so she's very, very frugal about them) on her, and the rest is random. She gravitates towards blues and neutrals, besides the green, though she's not conscious of this. I wanted to keep her bright, on the edge between cheerful and overbearing. Brightness can hurt as much as it can cheer, and her manic states definitely trend towards obnoxiousness over amusement. And when she's dark, it's more of a muddled orange; she doesn't stay down for long, but while she's there she's still jarring and annoying, with just that hint of liveliness and hopelessness.

Zhavi moved. Every step was a dagger between her shoulderblades, every breath was a knife between her ribs. She felt eyes upon her, and couldn't trust the instinct; she walked the wide slab roads of Limsa, keeping away from places where someone might get a jump on her, keeping to the crowds or the rooftop runways that only those like her knew about or could travel. Sometimes there were advantages to such a light frame as hers. The air was cool, a hint of warmth driven in from the ocean. She didn't like the wind for the scents it obscured. All of them were sampled: her self-discipline for not smoking paid off in spades. Highness was busy, and what fruit it had to offer her was rotten and old. She waited a bell too long, getting drunk and nervous, catching sidelong looks for her troubles and no lack of careless sneers. The regulars, the ones who had exchanged coin with her before, knew when she was off her high, and could tell when she was sucking dry. All but a few left her alone, most recognizing her by build and twitchiness and the way her lips pulled to the side when she was off her game. They wanted to dice with her. She gave them one game, and one loss: it was an expected tax. She might have given them the money without the need to play at a farce, but there was ritual that demanded certain expectations were met. In return, they wouldn't talk about her, would forget she'd been there before the end of the night was over. Zhi left, a cold slimy spot in her gut urging her to go and hide until it was all over. Wouldn't be over until she'd gotten rid of the book. There was a desire to burn it. Brindle's voice haunted her then, asking her if she was craven. Right then she didn't care, because far as she knew she had two sides hunting for her head, and she caught between them without room to breathe. The taverns blurred together as the night progressed, her drunkenness testament to her desires more than her casual addictions. There were tidbits of information that she took and pressed together, trying to make sense of what it all meant. She was sure that Galleon was still out of town, that he hadn't been in town for a long while, and that his flunkies were damn good at hiding. Brindle was in the wind, his whereabouts unnoticed and uncommented on. The certainty that he'd been taken, or that he'd fled, grew stronger until it caught up with her instinct, and her need to tell him how stupid he was was countered only by her own self-preservation. She was screwed. Arranging for a drop was all well and good, but she couldn't trust any proxies left to her and she couldn't very well show up; assassination might be frowned upon between Limsa's citizens, but that didn't mean it never happened. Where there were those specialized in killing killers, there were also those specialized in avoiding the killers of killers. The words tangled in her head, and she paused to giggle, one hand pressed to rough stone and the other to her stomach. She'd too much to drink. When had that happened? Another bar lay ahead of her, one that stayed open late. There were choices, and choices, and Zhavi Streetrunner stuck her fingers down her throat and pressed her head up against the wall, stomach clenching and clenching with her mouth wide open and her breath freshly fouled by acid and booze. She was shuddering when she was done, took a piss while she was there in the street, alone and miserable, still full of booze and her bad decisions. Alternate buyer. She had to. There was no other choice. She stuck her fingers down her throat again, conscious that she'd need to drink and buy drinks else she'd be crowded back out the door; there were some places you could go and buy but not drink, but these were the best shitholes Limsa had to offer. You had to be sloppy and entertaining when you weren't more than some lowly runner. Zhi sniffed, hawked and spat, leaving behind a wretched mess and the dredges of her dignity. She entered the bar with her head up and some feckless grin splitting her lips wide open.

Thus the point of being a bug. ... she needs to make like a mosquito and learn how to carry malaria or something, though.

In my experience (because I joined way back before FFXIV launched, never bought the game to focus on rl, came back earlier this year, took another break to sort shit out, and am back again), what has worked for me is to, as others have said, reach out. People who are well established tend to err on the cautious side of things, and will wait for people they don't know to reach out to them. There's always a chance that people will disappear on you, especially if you're in the middle of a rp thing, and they need to see that you're going to commit before they're willing to commit to you. Yeah, that can make it tougher to get involved, but in my experience as long as you're friendly oocly, make polite overtures to people, and are willing to help push rp forward where needed (because if your character is going to be grumpy or hostile towards others, you need to have a backup plan to keep things moving should other characters take the 'not going to stick around for this' road) you shouldn't have any issues. And I say this as a person who plays a right bitch.

((I would totes play with you but. . . but . . . my arbitrary decision to remain locked to Limsa has kept me out of more rp opportunities then I would like to admit. ))

Deep breaths. As Cassandra said, talking is the first step. Tackling big problems all at once is never a good idea; break it down from easiest to manage to most difficult. If they are significant, chances are you're going to have to search for aid options (possibly more than you may have already done) -- in which case your best bet is to find a friendly, experienced worker who you can sweet talk/schmooze into doing more than just telling you 'I'm sorry, we can't ___'. Generally speaking, there's usually a little more such workers can do, but digging deep into their resources for every person who crosses their threshold burns them out, longterm, so you have to be that special person they're willing to go above and beyond for. But most of all, deep breaths. Write out the things you need to do, or the problems you need to work out, and break them down into smaller pieces. Once you do that, sometimes it feels much more manageable (not everything works for everyone, of course, but feeling like you're doing something is better than doing nothing). Most of all, watch how you think and talk about your problems. Saying things like 'but I can't' or 'there's nothing else I can do' is a self fulfilling prophesy. And I know that yeah, sometimes you do feel like you've hit rock bottom and you're totally and completely stuck -- but it is extremely rare for that to actually be the case. More often than not, it's the feeling of solitude and helplessness that makes people feel that way. So, again, as Cassandra said, share the burden. Sometimes just having one or two other people helping you compile resources and handle problems can make a world of difference. You can do this. Keep trying. Don't give up. <3

It's probably because of the types of characters I make but. . . rp weddings never appealed to me, much the same with rp romantic relationships. It's fun to quietly watch others, when I find a couple I like, but meh, I've always been more interested in robust non-romantic partnerships with my characters.

Busy night. Weren't they all? Zhavi's first stop had been to see Keto'to -- ostensibly for something to carry the book in, something nondescript that could be kept tight to her body and under her hands (wouldn't that be a cruel twist if someone stole the stolen book from her?), but secondary was to see what the old man knew. Guttersnipe he might consider himself, but she'd seen the intelligence that lurked behind his rheumy eyes and shabby exterior. Keto'to had gotten old in a city that didn't like unattached old men whose position kept them in touch with all sorts of unwanted rogues. He touched the book carefully, flipped through it with gentle fingertips. "Ye'll not be wantin' this fer long, no," he said after a quiet eternity. Zhi fidgeted. "I ain't plannin' on keepin' it," she snapped. He gave her a steady look. She flushed: more out of temper than any sort of grace. "D'ye know what it is?" He looked back down at the book. "Nay." She sighed, and reached out to take it. He intercepted her, took hold of her wrist. She tried to yank it back, but his grip was strong. Her ears flattened, and she bared her teeth at him. "This," he tapped the book with his free hand, "is somethin' right strange. Strange attracts greed, 'specially in this sort o' pit o' vipers. I don't know how ye've gotten yer hands wrapped 'round it, an' I ain't carin' t'know. But this goes higher than ye've th'stones t'handle, lass." She hissed at him. He let her go. She snatched up the book and stuffed it down the sack she'd paid him for. He watched her, morose, probably one of the last few scrags in the city who'd treat her like an equal, and she sneered at him in return. "I can handle meself, old man." He watched her carefully. "Ye've a buyer?" The change in topic made her shift. She turned to leave. "Thing like that, no man'd want a trail left behind," Keto'to called out behind her. That was all she'd needed to hear. ______________ Morning saw her drinking long and steady, crouched low in an alley with the bag laid out before her and her head all buzzing with an unnatural energy. Her fingers shook as she capped the skin that held her alcohol, and stuffed it down her shirt to rest against the belt at her hips. She'd sent out three tentative signals: one to Brindle, one to Jager, and one to net the attention of one of Galleon's flunkies. She knew she had to move fast, and had made her decision, for good or ill: she couldn't just hang on to the thing while Lalataru remained out and about. He wouldn't exactly be happy that his book'd been kipped. She wanted to smoke, but resisted: probably the first smart decision she'd made in a full moon. The craving zinged through her, buzzing under her skin, and she ignored it as best as she could as she waited for Brindle to come find her. He made it to her side by noon, and she sent him back out near as fast as he'd arrived, to go listen and come back with news of Galleon's people. She hid all day, hungry and buzzing. She expected him to take time; the city was large and even with his skills it would take time to track down Galleon's movements. By sunset, she knew he wasn't likely coming back. She made the decision to stash the book, praying for all she was worth that it stayed hidden, and tucked tail under her overlong shirt and a hat down over her ears. She'd hit up Her Highness first, and make her way through the sprawl of shady and seedy bars and taverns in her search, conscious that by now Galleon's people had likely scented her blood. They'd be looking for her, and gods only knew what Galleon himself was willing to do for the book. She didn't know why Brindle hadn't come back, and she didn't want to guess. All she could do was avoid Styrm as best she could, and hope not to get caught by Galleon's net.

Zhi heard the clangor, and she was instantly paying heed to the voice that rose, one lifted foot away from heading out to see what had happened. Shit! She started to walk, and then started to climb. She'd go up a level on the spire, double over, and hang low until Flit made his way back to her. Or until she needed to take a leak. Or eat. Or got bored. Her irritation hung about her, ready to latch on to any convenient target; though that damn jack's appearance was not explicitly Flit's fault (not his fault at all, really), she still felt annoyed with him for how spooked she was. She was right tired of hiding and skulking. Suck it up, buttercup.

Zhi rolled her eyes. "Me job's t'find him. If Keto'to wants t'pay fer keepin' him in one piece, then we'll gab a bit further. But 'less ye got some wicked contacts up yer sleeves, seems t'me findin' him's gonna be th'pretty trick." She wasn't sure she liked the idea of a long, extended contract. Those always seemed to end up on the messy side of how-screwed-can-Zhi-be . . . but money was money, and she always needed more of it.

I misread the intent of your post (hence why the edit, I would have had to significantly change it and by that point I realized it was just going to be a derail and thought well, shit, dammit self just ... /cornerofshame), though some of the issues remained the same; in any case what I was arguing was more related to what makes a healthy discussion and what should be permissible in discussion over what you were suggesting. It's a whoooole other can of worms, and I didn't want to totally flip the discussion as it's happened before in a way that caused thread moderation... and I didn't want to do that to this thread because I am enjoying reading it. So, yeah, I let it go.

edit -- I'm a dum dum.