Zhavi

One ear swiveled towards this new direction her name had come from. If she hadn't been right at his shoulder, chances were she wouldn't have even heard the word. She downed the rest of her drink. Turned. Looked up. Her grin was facile, her posture as easy and relaxed as it could be in a crowded tavern. Sweat had formed along forehead and temples; her shirt clung to chest and back. Soon enough there would be pit stains. Without a breeze to move through the doorways, it was getting stuffy. Besides, the air was muggy. There'd be rain in another day or two. Those thoughts were distant. Distracting. Zhi would not show weakness, not in such a crowded place. Not one where she was known to frequent. Running, fleeing -- it would be marked. There would be some who would see her for who she was, and more rumors would start chasing her. Who wanted to hire a runner who couldn't keep her problems private? Someone jostled her, and she bumped into the stranger again. Stranger, not someone she knew. That could mean a good thing. She still tensed, the ghostly sensation of an imagined blade sinking into her gut teasing her belly. Nothing happened, and she pushed back against the press, taking a half step back from him so she could get a better look. If someone intended to kill her, they wouldn't send someone so. . . flamboyant. Zhi didn't rate flamboyant. She relaxed by increments. "Buy me a drink?" She shoved the empty mug into his ribcage.

Finish and get out, Zhi's instincts told her in no uncertain terms. Styrm's changes of mood put her on edge. One moment he was lulling her with his easy manner, and then he was reminding her that in an instant he might turn on her. Another shrug, as lowtown opaque as she could make it. Her grin might have been just side of shaky, but that could be put off on the heat. Seriously, she was dying in it. But she didn't want to look like she was hurrying. Joz surely wouldn't have anywhere to be. Not unless it was to go for the market's leavings -- they were cheapest in the evening, after all the good food had been bought up. "What 'bout yerself? Got somewhere t'be?"

"Ruttin' churl," was her return mutter, delivered with a grimace. They touched land. Her eyes were sharp in the darkness, and she was looking back and forth, careful, before she moved them forward. Didn't mean she didn't catch whatever eyes might be watching, but nothing was going to be precisely perfect. She walked with the confidence of someone with business, not with the sort of sneaky hunch of someone with something to hide; as far as her body language was concerned, she had legitimate interest in the narrow alley between the two stone buildings right off the pier. Legitimate enough, at any rate. Without a backward glance or another word, she started to climb. She moved steadily, pausing every little bit to take another look around. The climb progressed. Slow, yes, but also unimpeded. This was an hour when most activity was conducted inside, and those left out were often as disreputable and miserable as Zhi herself -- except when they weren't. Lookouts weren't uncommon. So long as said lookouts were seen before they saw anything, the run would go smoothly. They hit the upper tier, and Zhi moved along the gentler slope of the uppermost edge of the spire to one of the short towers that rose parallel to it. Here were the cables that kept it secure against storms, connecting it both to the spire that birthed it and the nearest one to it -- the one they needed to climb over to. But they weren't alone, up there. The problem with being so high was that Zhi's main sense of detection, her nose, was all but useless; the air was typically moving, and changing directions. It was only by luck, and by sight, that she caught sight of another miqo'te crouched near one of the cables. She had no idea what the other person was doing, and she didn't care. She immediately flattened herself against the stone, looking behind her to locate Jager and gesture him both down and closer. They hadn't been seen. Yet. Once Jager got close enough to hear her whisper, she spoke. "Got anythin' t'take him down wi'? Quietly?"

Zhi had watched the girl's retreat, stepping back out of the space she'd occupied, and back to the bar. She almost jumped out of her skin when a bony hand shot out and grabbed her by the upper arm. Her squeal was, thank the gods, drowned out by the general din -- at least for everyone but those closest to her. It was the old sailor. Again. This time, however, he had pulled out the temptation. It was in a perfectly folded piece of linen wrapping, secured with knotted twine. Desire to take it surged up in her. She wanted to reach out and snatch it, but she curbed the urge by taking hold of his hand instead. He was strong for such a frail looking old man -- strong, and with a wicked reputation. That was how he managed to keep his stool when it was such prime real estate. "Gunner," she said, teeth gritted, "I ain't buyin'. Leggo." "No?" He held the morsel up closer to her face. She could smell it. Scales, but she could. . .she shook her head, rearing back. Her nostrils flared, and her fingers dug into his hand. "Go bother someone else, ye ol' bugger." He showed her his missing teeth again. "Why? Ye been me best customer, Kink." She narrowed her eyes. "That ain't true." "True enough, lass. C'mon, it's been days since ye last bought." The reminder was so not welcome. Maybe just. . .just one. She shook her head again. Finally, she managed to peel his hand off her arm. She backed away without looking behind her, bumped into someone and then someone else again. "Later, Gunner. Not now." She turned to push through the crowd before her cravings got the better of her, sucking at the contents of her mug as if it was the salvation to all of her problems.

Loud suited Zhavi. So did Azeyma's daily retreat back to whatever hell had spawned her. She was making her rounds. Checking up on rumors, jobs, clients, employers. . .enemies: this was what occupied the majority of her time when she wasn't actively running on someone's business. Every day she did her rounds differently, or not at all; stagnation was the key to death. Pattern was the fastest way to earn a tail. Disguise, subtlety, change: these were the hallmarks upon which Zhi plied her trade. It was why she'd returned to genderless, shapeless clothing. A loose vest made of something that looked like canvas -- and dyed a muddy green -- fell from shoulders to hips in a nearly straight line, caught only by a sagging belt. Every so often Zhi would tug at it while she walked, inching it back up her slim hips. Her pants were undyed, worn, and also baggy. Numerous faded stains and patches covered them. Her shoes had been repaired so often it was dubious as to just how much of the material was original, but they held together. All in all, she was just this side of looking too poor to be in the Wench at all; she could have been a fisherman's brat or some other poor merchant's get looking for distraction in the adult's world. She did appear young in those clothes, but someone really looking at her would see the canny way she scoped out the crowd, would note the way she navigated the room. She was older than she looked, years of malnutrition aside. Having not seen anyone she was trying to avoid (that the list had become long enough for it to become a regular thing was commentary enough on the way things had been sliding for her, lately) she picked her way through to the bar and to the harried barman behind it. It took creative application of elbows, and nimble dodging, but eventually she managed to create enough of a space to actually see the bar, rather than a collection of backs and asses. Tenfingers, having seen her, gave her a nod before she could open her mouth to order. She always ordered the same thing: whatever was alcoholic and cheapest on the menu. Unless someone else was buying, of course. The mob at the bar moved and closed, and she found herself back on the outside. There was an old, crippled sailor on one of the stools: he gave her a knowing smile with more slyness in it than teeth. She shook her head before he could pull anything tempting out of his pockets, and edged away. Tenfingers was nothing if not efficient, and it wasn't long before one of the serving girls came from around the bar with a cry of "Kink! Oy, Kink!" Zhavi found her and plucked the drink out of her hand. She pulled the girl close. "I know ye've longed t'scream out me name, lass, but t'night I was thinkin' somethin' more private." The girl wrenched away, shaking her head. Before a rejoinder could be applied, Zhi said, "jes call me Resin fer awhile, a'right? Tell th'other servers fer me?" Zhi pressed a few gil more than the drink was worth into the girl's hand. With a roll of her eyes and a flounce, the girl disappeared back into the crowd. Touchy. Zhi sipped at her drink, eying the crowd for any signs that someone had noticed the name, and her, by extension. Lately, it was just a smidge healthier for her to do the approaching rather than vice-versa. Knives in guts just weren't her thing. Unless she was the one holding the knife, of course.

>: D

ahhh hmmmmm *coughcough* *quietly makes a few edits* thanks

I think maybe if anyone wants to discuss Mary Sues and stuff it should be done in a separate thread and not in one designed to be fun and silly. In the meantime, more stats! These are very fun to read.

Funtiiimes. Strength: 9. She has the musculature to climb and run, but her strength is not in any way honed. She's light and easily outmuscled. Fortitude: 10. Her biggest detractor from having high fortitude is her bad habits and the lack of nutrition in her diet. Dexterity: 14. Hugely important to her job as a runner. However, the nutrition thing can and has slowed her down (as well as when she drinks and smokes certain substances on a regular basis *coughcough*). Intelligence: 8. She is not book smart in the least. But she is pretty good at coming up with tools to circumvent locks. Wisdom: 15. Street smarts, instincts, and intuition are her thing. While she can do some really stupid stuff, this is what has kept her alive for so long. Charisma: 10. It really varies. Some people will turn their noses up at the sight of her, while others will seek her out and listen to her. This would, I suppose, be the average.

((pssst, you forgot to add your tagline!! >; D ))

......When they announced the restructuring I was expecting something bad. This figures. One way to make Miyazaki retire for good, I guess. EDIT: WAIT! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/film-news/11018226/Studio-Ghibli-Miyazaki-may-return.html . . . I think it might be bad translation again. People thought the studio was shutting down when they announced the restructuring, so this might be one of those things. In the article I linked, it says "brief pause" on the movies. Hope yet remains. edit 2 - also this: http://kotaku.com/studio-ghibli-is-not-dead-yet-1615520289

For those of you watching stuff from this season, give Zankyou no Terror a go. Shinichiro Watanabe is directing, Yoko Kanno is doing the music, Kazuto Nakazawa did character designs. Unless the second half really, really sucks, it's going to be something wonderful. Not the strongest thing ever (the way the riddles get solved makes it feel sorta like an afterthought, imo), but still beautiful and fun. (and no, it's not romance -- that scene might look like romance, but it's not)

Zhi'd been hoping for information -- figured Styrm would go all thoughtful on her now. She shrugged for him. "Takin' th'measure o'someone else 'swhat kept me alive. Sometimes I get it wrong." Another shrug. She returned to her bowl, lingering over it.

"What, showin' how stupid ye are?" There was definitely grumbling in her voice, followed by a growl. "Nah, yer th'one what likes quick. I likes me somethin' good." She very loudly did not answer that last question. But she did take up the lead as if that was the natural order of things. She walked them out of the docks, taking a wide-flung route that toured them away from businesses and homes alike. They passed fishing vessels, day trawlers, and small passenger boats; the route took much longer, but it also kept them away from them what would watch their walk with interest. Their walk took them forty minutes, give or take, and then they were out of dock for the direction they now needed to travel in. Zhi turned them towards the city. "We'll be up soon as we hit th'spire. Stay low. We'll be up, cross by th'big cables up top -- it's high -- then back down on th'side o' the far spire, an' then it'll be th' swim." Her tone went grim. "Next one over, th'one we're crossin' to? Belongs t' Swygahtyn. He ain't a baron, but he's wicked close. Don't like folk walkin' 'round his territory wi'out his say so. Stay quiet, an' hang on me tail."

"Yer sure?" Zhi almost choked on the second word, spat it out the way she might clear vomit from her mouth. Chirp leaned out from the alcove they hung out in. Her exaggerated back and forth look up and down the alley was, as pantomimes went, enraging. Zhi lowered her voice, sure, but the heat was still there. "Ye blasted blary bitch --" Chirp cut her off. "Would I court yer stupid idea of praise if I weren't?" Zhi ran a hand through her hair, nails digging into her scalp. "When?" Chirp shrugged. It was a lowtown shrug. It was never a good thing when enemies overlapped. At least not in Zhi's experience. Nald'thal always tipped the scales the other way when overlap happened. "Days? T'day? . . .now?" Chirp shrugged again. Before Zhi could spout off more curses, she said, "look, ain't as if them who knows Dirk good enough t'recognize him are also dumb enough t'cross intent wi' him. Naw, only one dumb enough fer that is yerself. Half-wit, lately." Zhi glared. "He's made somethin' of hisself in Ul'dah, y'know." The statement didn't change the glare. Chirp frowned. "Ain't like ye t'hold this sort of grudge." "An' the Skites're somethin' I'll jes turn me nose up at an' flounce around like they're wavin' sticks an' rocks at me." Chirp gave her a look. A knowing you-were-the-one-who-trespassed sort of look. "It was a shortcut, a'right?" Zhi flushed, but held firm. "Was somethin'. Shortcut ain't what comes t'mind." "Drop it." "Sloppy, on me other hand. . ." "Shut it. It was a risk I took. Fancy me a cut purse, but yer lips are flappin' fer no juice t'day. Last I checked, I paid ye fer information, not yer idea o' what wrong I done." Chirp considered that, and took her time replying. She chose to trim her nails with her knife instead. When she spoke, her words were measured. "He weren't alone." That gave Zhi pause. "What?" "Yer man Dirk. Had another with'm. Ain't no one knowin' him." The job. Comprehension dawned, followed shortly by a scowl. Rutting bastard! Chirp watched her. "Real strange fer a man like Dirk t'bring a stranger t'town. He ain't done problemsolving here in a good long while. Could be there's more gain in trackin' him, 'stead of yer man Dirk." "Do it." Chirp was silent. At first, Zhi thought the other woman was calculating costs, but when she didn't move Zhi leaned closer. She opened her mouth to offer some invective as incentive. "Ye should put Brindle on it," Chirp said suddenly. "I'm not askin' Brindle." "Ye should." Zhi had a feeling the Bad Day was imminent. ". . .a'right. Why?" "I ain't takin' no more of yer jobs. Not anytime soon." Chirp looked at Zhi and looked away. What she saw there made her continue a little faster. "Ye've been real sloppy. Makin' shit mistakes. Got word ye were beat out in th'middle of daytime, and ye've been spreadin' weird talk -- Unrelenting ring yer bells? Thought so. It's weird. I ain't wantin' no more part of it. Ain't a risk I'm gonna take. Cool yer heels fer awhile. Drop this cockered shit ye got with Dirk. I mean it. No one's gonna wanna play wi' ye if ye keep this up." It took effort to keep her hands from balling into fists. Real careful effort. "Anythin' else?" "Yep. Hawker's. That bit o' information cost, so wi' that, I ain't got no more dues t'ye. Don't go crooked, Streetrunner." Zhi left first. ___ Calling her mood spectacularly bad didn't begin to touch on what was going on inside Zhi's head as she stalked Hawker's Alley. She wore a worn, floppy straw hat, a simple sleeveless vest, and a dirt-encrusted pair of pants. She looked like someone's farmhand. Those tended to be ignored; they usually were good for nothing but hard work, brought into town to shift things and little else. They usually carried little to no money, and had nothing of interest to say to anyone but other farmers. Most who walked Hawker's Alley left them alone. Zhavi'd smeared just a smidgeon of goat shit onto the knees of her pants to encourage that general consensus. The looseness of her clothing kept her genderless and uninteresting; her tail was looped up under her shirt and secured against her belt and her ears were folded flat under her hat. So long as no one got a good look at her face or lingered too long on skin color, she could have passed as a gangly hyur kid. She moved through the Alley, carrying a sack of some sort of grain (filched) over her shoulder to disguise her stride, playing the hapless gadabout -- clueless farmhands who weren't used to the city lost their employers all the time in the Alley; Zhi'd used to bet with her companions on how long the most obvious of them would take to find said employers -- as she looked and sniffed for traces of Melkire. It was her second pass through when someone wholly unexpected caught her eye. Faller. More than that, the older man passed someone else she recognized, though there was no visible contact between them. Raz. Zhavi did not believe in coincidences. She had no idea what Faller was doing, but that he'd breezed past Raz. . . The likelihood of Raz being involved with Faller was low. Very low. Raz was still too fresh with the city to be able to offer anything to Faller that more established and trustworthy runners could. Probably. But if Raz was here, it meant he was working. Probably. For her? . . . no easy way to answer that question. Chance that he had heard a crumb of information about Melkire? Likely. Maybe. Doubt hit her. A choice presented itself: follow Raz, or follow Faller. Which could she rattle more information out of? She chose Raz. __________ Lale had caught sight of Raz again, and from there it had been but a matter of time before he'd caught sight of an interesting transaction, and an even more interesting set of interested parties. These were not highly trained individuals. They were either hired thugs, or those invested in whatever personal acquisition could be gained from tailing someone who so obviously knew how to avoid attention. Indeed, had Lale not been watching Raz, he wouldn't have seen the slip. That was worth something. He'd picked up the end of the daisy-chain trailing after the man who was Jacel's most recent assignment. He saw that moment, the big one, when Osric laid down a daisy and saw the second daisy in the chain. Osric ran. So did the daisy. Lale was not so stupid. He put a hand to his ear. "We have guests," he said, softly, walking forward with his usual awkward amble. "They're heading south-east by way of Cripple's Walk." He paused, slowed to a halt, and took an abrupt turn. "Of course, ser." Another pause. "I imagine this is something Abiga would be very interested in knowing. It is possible the serra could use it, yes." Another pause. Another turn. "Hawk can watch. I will be there shortly."

Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you thought I was stupid or anything in any way -- the people I tend to argue with tend to use it in casual disagreement and with a sense of humor, not as a serious you're-not-intelligent-enough-to-argue-with implication. I didn't in any way mean to imply you were putting me down. And I don't think you're a know-it-all or acting that part -- you did some reading and you own seven cats, so as far as I'm concerned you do know more than my own rudimentary knowledge (the one cat I had with an ex was a manx with that cute little stub). It was a nod of respect for trying to bring some facts into the discussion. The tail-curling thing is, to me, more a matter of flexibility and less a matter of fine control. To stick my arm out in any one direction is an entirely different movement from, say, a bicep curl. But I totally get the not liking it as a cartoony possibility, I just wasn't thinking in that way. I was thinking more 'if I had a tail, how would I use it? How would I want to use it? How could it be useful?' where my train of thought was that I would want to make use of it in a way that fit in with my other natural body language and gestures I make with my hands. Not in place of my hands, but -- to give an example for Zhi -- pointing under the table towards a person you want to steal from while your hands are above table. So not a super dextrous ability, but more of a general sweep of movement. (and as an aside, I reeeeally don't like cartoony either, not in rp)

Zhi sighed. "We ain't swimmin' th' whole way, smartass." She gave her own gesture in the direction they'd been going. "Get whatever it is ye need. Jes th'last hop what needs swimmin'." Ladies, indeed.

Humm, I think this might just be a divide of opinion. To me, miqo'te are neither humans-with-tails nor cats-with-people-biology. They're an intertwined mix of both in a way that are neither cat nor human. I agree that they take traits from both -- you'd rightly think me stupid if I tried to argue against that -- but to simply think them humans with cat ears and tails takes away from the blurbs you can read in character creation. Their biology has to be different from human biology, otherwise they wouldn't have superb olfactory senses or strong leg musculature. But then again, as you said in your first post, we're both having to interpret from a rather vague snippet of information. I guess it isn't so surprising we both think the other is wrong. ehehehe I am ignorant enough about cat biology that I will actually need to get off my ass and look up some studies. I said earlier that I was floofing on the biology, but I'll admit it -- you've intrigued me enough to want to go digging through studies! Soooo. . .I'll get back to you on that when I'm a smidgeon more educated then my current status as ignoramus. To me, the ability to suppress would also mean some ability to control, but then again I'll have to defer to my previous statement. YOU WIN. . .for now. You know, that is a really interesting point. I'd not really thought about it before, though you're right that it makes sense they'd go to some small effort to protect such a vulnerability. Ahhh, it makes me really, really sad that arguments get such a bad rap! I love arguing with people (even the friends who lay the verbal/written smack down on me nine times out of ten) -- it's really a fun thing for me. Usually I come out of arguments knowing something I didn't know before, with a heightened understanding of the different ways other people think. . .which I can then build into characters. (even if sometimes I wind up looking like an idiot. worth.) And, too, I really do think passion gets mistaken for emotional response, sometimes, and people react to that. It's normal -- but should never ever ever be taken personally. Don't fear the arguments! Embraaaaaacceeee. (unless it's just legit not fun, I know not everyone is into that -- just like silly things aren't really my thing, most of the time. To each their own. )

The reminder cooled her eagerness. She abandoned the mug for the bowl. She was well acquainted with bargain-priced fish, and with varying recipes -- this bouillabaisse was not in any way, shape, or form traditional. Except in its dual heat. Cheap ingredients, likely bargain ingredients, had been used. But whatever Zhavi was, it wasn't someone very picky when it came to food. She slurped it enthusiastically, uncaring of the splatter on counter, chin, or clothes. When she put it down, a full third was gone. There was a ring of orange-red broth around her mouth. She wiped at it, again, with the back of her hand. "Can't say I woulda thought him fer that. Figured a man like hisself would go fer practical an' bland."

"Fine words." Parry. But she didn't need to cast doubt on him, didn't need to press him; they'd find out exactly how much he remembered real soon. Zhi let him lead, checking his familiarity against what she knew. True, there were a few spots where she'd have taken other streets or alleys, but she was impressed with what he knew. So he hadn't been idle bouncing whores on his lap the whole time he'd been in town. Even so, she still hungered to see him flat on his ass. She wanted to humiliate him. Hungered for it. "Least a bell from yer ship," she answered, after thinking about it. Limsa Lominsa wasn't an exceptionally sprawling city, but its spires and bridges made certain things. . .complicated. Fewer points of entry meant an easier time guarding against intruders, unless -- "We're gonna need t'swim on th'last stretch." The reason for her clothing, revealed.

That's . . . really cool. Mostly my line of thought was that if you can wag the tail, curl it, lift it, wave it, then you could do simple actions such as point or what not -- I hadn't actually given thought to the idea that it would actually make biological sense for it not to be controlled. On an intelligent person, the idea of not having control over a limb kinda freaks me out a bit, I will admit. Although I will also say that I didn't imagine it being precise either; pointing in a general sense more than a specific -- so I'm with you on that one (not dextrous as a monkey's tail, but able to make simple motions already shown to be in range -- just controlled rather than automatic). Although, if it isn't able to be controlled then there would be a question of whether or not its movements would be able to be suppressed when the miqo'te feels something -- ie, if my character is annoyed by something, would she not consciously be able to stop it from twitching? Ahahaha, luckily for me social etiquette doesn't much come into play. Half the fun of rping Zhi is getting to showcase that rude, ignorant teenager who thinks she's beholden to no one. edit - ah, and I wouldn't count humans-with-tails in the same league as miqo'te. At the very least we can agree that miqo'te tails are far more mobile and expressive than anything humans have ever had.

If you have control over a body part, why couldn't you use it to point, or hit someone with it? Are you saying that miqo'te don't have full control over their tails? It just seems a bit silly to me, but I guess to each their own. (just to reiterate, no one has really claimed miqo'te tails are prehensile if we're going by the definition of 'able to grasp something' )

Yup! Though cats provide helpful examples of things to do when determining miqo'te behavior, I agree with you and Oscare -- they still aren't cats. Miqo'te aren't going to mirror all the things cats do. It's why I tend to try to think of the ears and tail not as exclusively catlike in how they would be used. Zhavi isn't a cat. She's not going to use her tail and ears exactly as a cat does. Iunno, at the end of the day my choice to play miqo'te was purely ooc and not in relation to what I wanted to rp. I could have used any of the species for that, really, as the core would have stayed the same. I think the ears and tail are cute, particularly because I can't own a cat (second choice was a roe, because they are fabulous). I love cats. SO is allergic -- so I cannot become a crazy cat lady (at least not until we're old; if he dies first, all bets are off). So, during rp, I tend to rp the character more as a human than anything else. Then it becomes a game of how a person would use ears and tail, and how closely it would follow animal behavior. It's really loosey goosey, because I don't know much past the google and pet owner understanding of animal behavior. But it is fun to try to work into rp, and it is fun to think about. And it is interesting to see how often I forget Zhi has cat ears and tail, even when I'm rping in game and they're right in front of me. (am I rationalizing my choice? Yes, yes I am. I got irl ribbing for it, too. ;_; )

Huh, I never thought about using it that way. I guess it never occurred to me that the miqo'te tail might be prehensile and not just something that serves for social signaling and balance -- though I have had L'yhta poke people with it to get their attention or tap it on a chair or table to enumerate points. I wonder if there's any other examples of miqo'te tail behavior in the game's storylines? Not necessarily prehensile, but just under direct conscious control. As long as it can be curved upwards, it can carry something (as evidenced by the numerous times I used to hang light toys off my parents' dog's tail *coughcough* ) . If you can move it, you can use it to gesture, or point, or tap things; I don't personally think it would be prehensile, but as long as it's under conscious control why not utilize it?

"If ye think o' anythin' fit fer mentionin', ye just let me know, darlin'." The wench winked. Then someone else was calling for her attention, and she sauntered off. Zhi turned to watch her leave, mug already up to her face. One, two, three gulps, then she slammed it back onto the bar with an appreciative gasp. "Think ye might have a chance there, Chocobo." There was foam on her upper lip. She wiped it off with the back of her hand.