Zhavi

"Sonuva bitch." Zhi glared out the window. The one time when she needed to be taken seriously was the time when she wasn't, of course. It suited her fine to play the part of an adolescent boy or a teenage girl when she was out and about the markets but -- the scrag hadn't answered her rutting question. Useless. Still, it probably wouldn't have worked to her favor if she had managed to somehow intimidate him; Joz might not be a wilting flower in front of Styrm, but she sure as shit wasn't a hardass. Her stones wouldn't be that large, even if Zhi herself was willing to ply the edge and risk getting swatted out of the air. Nothing to it but to empty the pans and move the blankets as far away from the puddles as she could. She'd have to get more pans. She might have to stomach living in shantytown, but that didn't mean she had to let it be any worse than it had to. Gods, hadn't she at least gotten past the point where she was forced to stay in such crap locations? Oh, it was better then huddling up in doorways, but . . . she was probably going to have fleas again by the time she was done with it. No matter. She would have Lalataru's book, eventually, and that would be the end of it. That was the only thing she had to worry about. That and her own rutting notebook. She broke away from the window and went to the pile of blankets. Once she was nestled into them she took up the grease pencil and started working. Until she made progress or ran out of pages, eh? One way or the other, it didn't much matter to her which one she hit first. It didn't.

He was laughing. At her. A shiver passed down her spine and out to the tip of the tail, built of her more typical urges, the kind that tended to roll off her tongue like knives. She wanted, for a moment, to tell him how stupid he looked, laughing like that. How ridiculous, all attention grabbing loudness. Distracting, that type of laugh. Loud enough that it was likely the neighbors on either side had heard him, much less the people in the squat building they were in. Yeah, definitely the type she took drinking and gambling. Not the type she liked to deal with for information. She didn't like the way he towered over her, so she stood too -- not that it stopped him from being taller, but at least she didn't feel like he would stomp her all of a sudden. A very insincere grin contorted her lips. She was a hair off from glaring at him despite the smile, but she didn't insult him. Not yet at least. She stayed silent, arms folded, ears sideways and the tip of her tail twitching behind her. Waiting.

The rain outside had intensified, and the sound of it obscured nearly all else. For the moment it was just her and Styrm; if the couple on the other side of the curtain were present, they were unusually quiet. Besides, she'd paid good coin for them to maintain their silence -- but she still put the food down while she finished chewing. Once she'd done with it, she repacked the food and slid it sideways. She came down from her crouch, tucking her legs beneath her, and placed her hands on her knees. She put the weight of her upper body on them, her head lowering until it drew even with the line of her shoulders. The sound of the rain was loud, especially when she couldn't bring herself to respond to him, not right away. She was lost in her own act. What a joke. "Look," she said, and stalled. She licked her lips. Try again. "I ain't good wi' . . . swappin' straight talk wi'strangers in me home." She glanced away from Styrm as if to reaffirm that was where they were before looking back. "But I'll be straight. I ain't got a good past wi'the jacks. An' . . .y'know, ain't like -- I ain't crossed paths wi'the Gate. But ain't typical fer one like me t'go prancin' up t'their door. Master Lolotaru, well, he ain't called th'jacks down on me head. That's good. That's real good, but it still, well, shit gets taken out o'me every time I tread stone near that guild." She was staring at Styrm, staring hard. "An' I know mebbe it's a risk fer him too, but I still gotta know, y'know. That he won't turn me in. That he won't . . . kill me, on accident or a purpose. That I can. . .trust. . .him." Her voice was low and serious, her mouth working over the words as if she had to chew them to get them to fit on her tongue. There was two of her in those words, a mix of Joz and Zhi that contained things she didn't really want to think about. So she didn't. She pinned that intensity on Styrm: face down and eyes up: a cat ready to strike or turn tail depending on need.

Not all criminals are created equal. Having had a major setting changing rp plot going for the last ...four years on another site (with an original setting open to being changed, not like ffxiv where most things are immutable), I can safely say that I'm happy playing a low key criminal with hopes for low-key criminal infighting that can easily be ignored by the majority of players if they'd rather not get involved, while at the same time being fulfilling for those who do choose to get involved. (so. much. time. investment.) But, eh, the problem with a lot of rp criminal organizations, in my eyes, is that they're so independent of each other and the world they're in, giving them a sort of. . .disconnected feeling. At least for me. It's hard to set them up so they feel organic, harder than it is to fit into the already established policey-type groups that, in the case of FFXIV, is already in the setting and acknowledged. I mean, for a criminal group you have to figure out why they're doing what they're doing (most criminals aren't evil for the sake of being evil or for Big Shiny Evil Doom), how they're doing it, why they weren't heard of in the setting before, who their connections are, and how they fit in with the other various things going on (be it economically or whatever, you know, do they have enemies besides the law? friends? etc). Without thinking all of that through, I think it can get boring to play criminals, because you're alone in the soap bubble, and you're probably getting slotted into generic-bad-guy real quick. Not to say that you can't create a convincing or fun group of whatevers without that, but imo that's why "bad guys" tend to either poof or turn into a trope/stereotype quick. And not to say that I'm an expert on it either, but after spending the past year really amping up both sides in the rp plot conflict and making them both appealing enough for people to want to play characters on one side, or the other, or both (and finding out the hard way that slapping people together into an isolated cell-type group without adequate consideration for who they are as individuals leads to bad, bad things and tossing out several month's worth of work after it just flat out doesn't jive nicely), I've found that the more work that goes into building the connections and reasons behind a group, the longer it lasts and the easier it makes the rp. Problem is, doing all that background and backend stuff takes time, and unless you're an established member of the community who is known for sticking things through and being generally okay with the arpee stuff, you're going to have a rough start to it. Eff that, man, starting stuff in general can be rough. Much less leading stuff. (sidenote: experience tells me that agreeing to become a moderator/officer/temporary-gm-I'll-be-back-in-several-months/whatever is a trap. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it. Who am I kidding. We're rpers: masochists by nature.) Not to say that it's impossible or not rewarding, it's just. . .time investment. Headaches. Then again, I am quite strenuously avoiding research at this point in time and am amped up on caffeine (late night jitters have begun), so er, salt and stuff.

Zhi tipped her head to the side, the smile neatly overtaken by more food as she stuffed her mouth. "Hnn. Pictures, huh?" She seemed amused. "There a puppet show what follows?" She wondered if she should be talking to him. She wondered if she should send him away. She wondered about his secrets, and Lalataru's, and things that could cause her ill.

Zhi had, indeed, opened her mouth to retort to Styrm's comments, but he stymied her. Annoyance set into her expression instead, and she lifted her chin at him in obstinate mulishness. But she let the comment go, brought up instead (again) by the sidetrack he suddenly took with the conversation. "Ye got summat worth hidin' away from me int'rest?" Her tone went cool and coy, the smile deepening between bites.

Zhi tucked her chin and snickered to herself, some inner thought lightening her mien. She didn't share it with him, though her lips turned up in a small, secretive smirk. She reached out and took up the loaf of bread, breaking off a hunk. More crumbs scattered. There was cautious consideration in her as she took a bite, chewed with her mouth open, and let her eyes roam over him and the room at once. "What sorts o'jobs ye work for'im?"

As Styrm started talking, Zhi looked between him and the food before begrudgingly pushing a loaf of dark, dense bread towards him. Sharing didn't come easily to those who suffered the pangs of near-starvation on a regular basis, but neither did talk come cheap. Zhi watched for his reaction. That was put to the side as she paused mid-bite, fingers crammed into her mouth. "Wot?" Mouth full, bits of cabbage sticking out, she stared at Styrm in open disbelief. "'E wot? Yeh -- nuhh." Zhi shook her head back and forth, denying his claim that a tiny lalafell had drunk a roegadyn -- a large roegadyn -- under the table. Oh, she knew well enough not to underestimate one of the small folk, had had that lesson rubbed in thrice for every doubt she'd ever held, but that? She chewed, swallowed, flecks of cabbage falling to land in her lap. Cleanliness wasn't something that seemed to bother her overmuch. "Nuh-uh, yer yankin' me tail." She watched him with the closeness of someone expecting a story; her eyes dared him to prove her denial wrong.

Zhi rocked back onto her heels. She'd uncovered a clay jar packed with salted vegetables, and after cracking its wax seal found it to be cabbage and garlic. She dug into it with her fingers, eyes drifting half shut with the pleasure of it. "Some good," she amended for him around her mouthful. Her chewing stuttered to a halt as he brought up Lalataru, and she went stiff. "As long. . .fer as long as I don't piss 'im off. He scares me some, if I'm talkin' truth. Hey," she looked up, and then paused as she finished chewing, eyebrows drawing close together and forming a small wrinkle over her nose. "Ye work fer'im? Ye know what he's like?"

Zhi immediately bared her teeth in a grimace, though the expression soon faded. She didn't know how she was supposed to act, but . . . surely it'd be more unusual if she didn't act like a streetrat? You'd be chewed up alive if anyone acted the way she'd acted in front of Lalataru. "I ain't," she muttered, taking a step forward and snatching up the bag. She backed a step and crouched, setting to opening it. She was hungry. She looked over at the curtain at his words, and shrugged. "Ain't room t'live alone. Only reason it's by halves here is 'cause o'the stairs. Split four ways downstairs. Ye been t'the Reach before?" Zhi eyed the big man, curious despite herself. Not everyone who was street was destitute, it was true, but if he was . . .. She looked back down, suddenly nervous, and focused on the food.

I think there's plenty of rp on both sides; even if those from Gilgamesh maybe aren't as loud as the Balmung ones, there are still plenty of them around! Sometimes all a rp community needs is a fresh injection of new blood, anyways (I say, while secretly hoping more people come to Balmung). Ahem. Really though, whichever server you wind up on, you can't go wrong. quick edit - also, unless you're going for a very traditional miqo'te of some kind, don't worry so much about looking the part of a fool. With the exception of sticking to established gender roles, even the most different cultures in the world still have common personality types. Miqo'te have become so well integrated into Eorzea that you've got a fairly wide margin for error as far as that goes, imo (unless I missed something, but I've seen a fairly wide range of miqo'te behavior from npcs in game).

Heeeeey, welcome back! (says the one who never bought the game until very recently) A young traveler, eh? How I love breaking in fresh-faced characters, all the better if they're innocent. >: D *coughcough* I kid, mebbe I'll see you in game some time. Be sure to check out the linkshell hall, there are a bunch of fun looking ones in there!

Hey there! My character is not at present able to use magic, but I do know that there are several scholarly magic-using types running about (Goodfellow is one -- he's a kickass rper ). Be sure to check out the wiki too (I usually go for 'recent updates'), as I've seen quite a few there. Buuut, if you ever want to get your character caught up in shady shit down in ole Limsa Lominsa, just say the word and I'm there. Also, kudos to you for speaking up even though you're shy! Even though it's not always easy, it really is the best way to start making some connections to facilitate rp. Don't be afraid of pming (here or in game) people whose characters you like the look of, either! Most people find it flattering when you pm them or show interest, so think of it as sending a lovely little compliment whether or not you're able to work out rp.

From what I've read, it's usually a matter of when -- as in, the earlier in the morning you go, the more likely you're able to get a slot. Pretty much, if you keep trying you will get in! If it doesn't work at one time, try another. Don't give up! Welcome to the RPC, and I am sure you'll be able to find whatever rp floats your boats. Be sure to check out the events for either server, and the wiki for various characters. There's a ton of awesome people hanging out, and everyone is super friendly. What sort of character are you thinking of making?

"Huh," Zhi said, after he'd made it inside. She shrugged and leaned over, carefully handing down the bag. "A'right, back up," was her only warning before she crouched -- hands on the edge of the roof -- and hopped off backwards. She was facing the window as her body came down, and she twisted herself so her legs swung through the window. She let go, and wound up in a crouch on the inside of the little building, one hand shooting forward to keep herself from face-planting with the extra momentum. There was a curtain strung across the room, and a sagging mess of rubble poking up out of a hole to the right of the window, butting up against the wall. The aforementioned stairs, or what had been stairs some time ago. There was one more window facing the direction of what would have been the ocean, but it was long since boarded up -- and with good reason: even with the gentle rain a few splatters had made their way inside through the open window, beyond the mess that Styrm and Zhi had tracked in. And given the rushing wind some storms brought with them. . .well. Shutters that could withstand that cost money. It was easier to board things up. Though, the matter might have been moot anyways; shallow tin pans collected dripping water. One of them was close to overflowing, and there was some dribbles that were left to splat against the floor on the side of the room opposite the blankets. Two small puddles had formed. The interior was dim, though Zhi caught up a small oil lamp (a cheap little clay dish with a small loop to keep the wick from slipping back into the oil) and produced flint and tinder. She struck it up; it stank of cheap fish oil. Light flickered off the interior, showcasing the mean and meager possessions. A small pile of blankets that smelled of sweat and age, a worn crate with a few pieces of dried fish and spotty looking bread, and a stool with three different sized legs. The notebook and grease pencil lay atop the mussed blankets, flipped open to a blank page. That was it. If there was anything of greater value to be had on her side of the space, it was well hidden. Zhi stuck the lamp on the stool and turned to Styrm, demeanor slipping into timidity. She pointed at the sack. "Errr. . . ." she pressed her lips together, expression hopeful.

"Think 'e'd make it this far down? Mebbe if he'd no choice, an' that's th'truth." The buildings on the next level down rose several feet above the street level on their current level, and it was one of these that Zhi stopped next to. She turned to eye Styrm, and then rubbed her hands together as she stepped up alongside the building. "Stairs're out, an' th'ladder's rotted. Don't break me home, Styrmsie." Late to his own familiarity with her assumed name, but a retort nonetheless. Then she was hopping, catching hold of the rough stone of the small, squat building and clambering up to its flat top. "We'll go in through th'window, off t'the side, here." She gestured behind her and to the side. He was likely tall enough to grip the upper edge of the building from the upper street and hoist himself up, but. . .she eyed his burden. "Toss it up, if y'can't manage wi' it." She pointed towards the package he held. "A little more wet won't hurt it none, an' it'll still be better'n rotted husks in th'midden." It had been a long time since Zhi had needed to eat out of the middens, but she remembered well.

Zhi grinned. She couldn't help it. Here was the sort she'd take drinking and dicing with her, the sort that she liked to be around, even if she'd still never trust one at her back. Well, a few off comments here and there wouldn't kill her, would it? "Aye, right atop it." She reached the end of the steps and chanced a glance back at him. It was amusing. Her grin was cheeky as she looked up at him. "I'll be sure t'offer proper praise once we're out o'Azeyma's piss." She walked left. "Almost there, I swears it."

"Kitten?" They'd reached the second set of steps, this one shorter in length than the last. "Ain't no kitten, y'great lump. Call me Joz."

So. . .I guess what you're saying is that the character would purposefully play a drag queen type? I ask this because biologically there is a difference between the way males and females move, due to center of gravity and how the skeletal structure is set up. So I mean, just being raised by females and having female mannerisms is more of a cultural than a biological, and for the rest it'd mean he was err. . .stuffing his clothes. So if that's something that your character would do, then it'd work really well and would do away with any awkward questions pertaining to the model aspects. (or, at least, if it's mentioned during rp then you can just have him in drag, and if it's not mentioned then don't worry about it sort of thing)

I had wanted my girl Zhi to be rather on the androgynous side - I'd wanted her to pass for a boy. Breast slider all the way down. Yet, even with that, the dimorphism is still readily apparent. Hip rolling movement, for one. Even gear that minimizes breast appearance still nips in at waist and tucks under breasts in a way that it wouldn't on a male body. Maybe not a deal breaker, but not gender neutral enough to fool anybody (much to my disappointment). So, take that as you will. As for the genderflip if you go with the chick, I think the biggest problem you will have is confusion. You could play it off as him just looking feminine, but with the way the female model moves and stuff, it will not come across as a biological boy. Which is still interesting, imo, but you know. Imo roll a level one with a trash name and see the movement for yourself. Even I don't strut that much irl, and I have wider hips.

"Yer more th'size of a chocobo. Too big fer any cat I ever seen," Zhi said, before her brain could keep up with her tongue. Ahh, it was easy to remember to be Joz in front of Lalataru, but this man -- well, he was street, like her. For all that Zhi went around sucking up information on a regular basis, pretending to be someone she wasn't for long stretches of time wasn't something she was used to doing. It made her slow as she thought about it, about how likely it was for a street brat to be timid and survive. Authoritative figures, she decided, would get the timid treatment. She'd be a little more of herself around the roe. Dangerous. Yeah. Exactly. It didn't take them many steps before they were abreast of the roofing of the upper tier of buildings of the Reach, and then only a few more before they were on the first street. The tiers were narrow, perched precariously, and typically only one row of buildings deep before cut stairs and ladders lead to the next level down. And where that wasn't enough, little clusters of wood-and-metal hovels had sprung up here and there. But that wasn't it -- the adventurous had cut into the cliffsides. Some of those holes were old, some of them newer: all of them were claimed. But not all of them were full. Even with the rain, people were out and about their business: making trinkets to sell, repairing one thing or another, begging -- some even ate under ragged canopies, peering out at Zhi and the roe as they passed. Children were as prevalent as they were anywhere else, the more energetic among them zipping back and forth, splashing in the runnels of slurry that would take the worst of the accumulated effluvia away. Zhi navigated the Reach deftly, avoiding the streams of water that careened off rooftops and the worst of the muddy ground. Even with the Reach being built upon stone, it could not wholly avoid dirt. Dust and grit from the mainland was swept to Limsa Lominsa by the wind, and it accumulated over time. Someone was playing on reed pipes, accompanied by drums and a high, fluting voice. The reed player was the best of the lot. Zhi smiled to hear it, ears turning in its direction. Perhaps it was because of the music that she spoke to the man she lead, rather than ignoring him the whole way. "What's yer name, then?"

Zhi startled at the voice; she'd been aware of the passage of bodies, the roe's included, but it was a large voice. It tickled her ears, even in the rain, and she looked up. . .and up at the approaching figure. There was annoyance at first, until she remembered that 'Taru' was something those familiar with Lalataru called him. Right. That should have been first thought on her mind. She should have had something to eat. Her ears flicked back and forth, and she adopted an uneasy expression as she rose to her feet. "Taru. . .? Master Lolotaru?" Her eyes lit upon the sack as the realization of food hit. "I'll show ye th'way." With a bounce, she hopped up and turned to the well-worn stairs that had been cut into the rock, leading to the Reach below. "Watch th'steps. Kids take turns scrubbin' 'em, but they're always slimier'n a bottomfish when it rains."

"Six-an'-a-half bells!" Zhi said, in lieu of a proper farewell. It was with greater care than usual that she made her way back to the little inn she was staying at, the one that had been gifted to her rent free by Galleon. She'd told Brindle to make his bunk there, since she'd suspected Lalataru would eventually want to know where Joz was staying, and Joz wouldn't have the money to stay at an inn. Zhi'd paid the little beggar family that inhabited a section of the abandoned house in the Reach to get out of it, and had since situated it with the sorts of trappings that would befit a streetrat-turned-beggar. The inn would be left to Brindle, though she'd warned him against damages, and near spit him on his own blade when he hadn't shown signs of hearing her. After all, her choice to do damage to such items as the table was different from if he chose to. She'd be the one answering to Galleon if the innkeep complained, not Brindle. So, Brindle was there to greet her when she came inside the little room, huddling in her ragpicker's clothes. "Fine day t'go slummin'," she said. The clouds that had evaded her those few days ago when she'd first met Lalataru had finally rolled in, and the air smelled of rain. Sleeping around puddles was in her future, she just knew it. Brindle didn't even look up, he just snickered. He was busy with a game of dice, but he was listening. "I'll be off th'marks fer a bit. I'll drop in when I can. Extra coin fer th'room, if th'paid rent wears thin. If I'm findin' ye've spent it on vice, I'll have done an' slit yer worthless throat meself. Got it?" Brindle rolled his eyes and muttered something. Zhi ignored the insult and continued. "Ain't much time. I've tole ye where t'find Clove, ye know the meetin' times. If ye've need o'more talk, I've paid Chirp extra, so use her. Stay off Thatcher's enemies, they're keen on ye since last time. Ye hearin' me?" Brindle grunted assent, deigning to tear his eyes away from his game to give her an unimpressed stare. "Ye feck up me take, I'll take it out yer hide. Fancy?" "Yeah, yeah. I wasn't born yesterday." "Coulda fooled me. Sell this lot off," she toed one of the pieces of her various get-ups, "keep th'gil. If th'Skites come sniffin', ye pay 'em. Don't haggle on it." Brindle nodded, his expression overtaken by the special sort of boredom only teenagers have truly mastered. Zhi gave him a long look, and hesitated. "Don't get yerself killed, kid. Fair winds." Brindle rolled his eyes at her. She kicked a sandal at him, smirked at the outraged squawk as it connected, and had the door safely shut before Brindle's return sally could hit her. The muffled thump brought a smile to her face, and then she was off for the Reach. _____________ At six-and-a-half bells, it was raining. It wasn't a bad sort of rain, the kind that soaked you in seconds, but a miserable drizzle that fell from clouds that promised further misery. That was spring for you. Zhi was crouched on the side of the street that connected to the Reach, hands tucked into her armpits and tail tucked up between her legs and under the tatty coat she'd kept for just such a purpose. Rain was a given in Limsa Lominsa, and even if the coat didn't keep her from getting wet, it did provide her with a little extra warmth. Lalataru and his rutting kindness were not doing her any favors, that was for sure. She wrapped her arms around her knees in an unconscious pantomime of the day they'd first met (the main difference being her sour expression), and she waited for his man (woman?) to show up so she could get out of the rain and go spend quality time in the old wreck of a building she'd paid good gil for. What fun.

Thank you! Can do. I've got a few end-of-semester papers due by next Monday, so I likely won't be starting on this until next week (but it shouldn't take long after that).

Choking down the derisive laughter was hard. Zhi stayed quiet an awkward few seconds as she worked at strangling the impulse, and then carefully said, "there, ah, ain't no numbers in th'Reach, sir. I'll. . .uh. . ." she made a face, considering. Barnacle's Reach was old, and badly organized. Once upon a time, buildings had names that were well recognized, and the narrow, zig-zagging streets had been also named and counted -- but that'd been before fortunes had turned and the wealth had dried up. New growth had sprung up, built of wood and shoddy hanging bridges and stairways. It was a mess to navigate, perhaps especially because it was vertical as well as horizontal. "I'll. . .meet yer man at th'edge," she concluded, dismissing the idea of a map out of hand. "It's. . .not a place t'wander, Master Lalataru. I wouldn't want yer man t'get shanked. Yeah, at six-an'-a-half bells -- " she gave him the name of the street that brushed along the edge of the Reach, the one that was easiest to find.