Dasair

Dumb announcement thing for anyone who's been / wants to RP with me. Tomorrow I am flying back into the PST timezone, and my schedule will likely get kinda nuts. I don't actually know what it is yet, but I expect I'm likely to be MIA (in game) for a few days at least. Feel free to send me PMs here on the forums if you want RP or anything, but it's unlikely that I'll be in game a ton otherwise! At least until things get more sorted and I'm done moving. *sweats* That is all.

Things hadn't gone as planned. Not that they went poorly, it certainly wasn't wrong either; but things had gone basically in the opposite direction of the plan. Not that he was arguing. The duskwight had come back to the inn room, and he still had the hairclip in his hair. Upon closing the door with his back, Xavarian smirked to himself, quietly amused at an irony all his own, before he decided this was it. That page isn't going without words this time. He didn't even remove his boots, merely sat himself in the chair and took up the pen stationed on the table with another sheet of that swirly-grained paper he had in the room. Surprisingly, though it came to a slower start, he actually did manage to write something down this time. A few reads over later, the duskwight remembered something, a ripple of Aether and a side-eye glance to the door all that was expressing his thoughts, before he took up what he'd just written, carefully placing it into his large, elaborate, tome at his side, then hurried back out the door again. ... However, he didn't go the right way for Avis' room. [align=center]_____[/align] Xavarian returned to the Mizzenmast in a rush, the clip that was in his hair had been taken out and returned again, as he found hurrying about as he was, it was actually quite useful. He darted around like a child rushing to find a hiding place with a friend nearly at the end of their count, smirking and amused. The Innkeeper had let him quickly in, to his delight, and the duskwight was now fleeing down the halls in a quickpaced and light-footed dash; at least as much as his long robes would allow for. He couldn't help but wonder if Avis had gathered where he was heading by his vague answer. She'd find out soon enough indeed~ But by the hells, it'd be a problem if she met him there, wouldn't it? At least he wanted to drop it off before her return; if he was caught, let it be with nothing left in his possession. How embarrassing, to have to hand the roll of pages to her when he'd just seen her. He only got himself turned around once to Avis' door, and a little before he reached it, he'd pulled out the pages in a ring once again. There was a number of different papers here, (sheets of light parchment, more of the swirling sort he used, pages that were gold-leaf-edged, pages with small designs in the corners; each one somewhat different, as he'd just scribe them there when bored for flourish, and so on) all of decent to high quality, and the one on top was the swirling page he'd written on earlier. If there was nothing wrong with his paper, and she wouldn't ask herself, he'd just toss it in her room. She could do what she wanted with it, but she had it then, and maybe if she found herself with nothing else, she'd have little choice than to get more herself or actually use it. He still couldn't help but think of her poor notebook, and gave a quick, silent huff. Drooling on books and ripping pages out of her notebooks, how dreadful. Though even those thoughts didn't wipe the smirk from his face. The pages were all held together by what he called a 'scroll ring'; not quite a scroll case, by any means, but much more durable than a tie or a ribbon, and caused less damage to rolled pages. It was, essentially, a small, wide ring that pages are rolled into. This one particularly small enough to fit under the door, but it also clamps in such a way that can hold a number of pages together flat, and by a corner as well. Not nearly as elaborate as the scrollcase he'd given, these were more akin to a rich-man's paperclip, at least down in the caverns. Still, it was metal with a few small engravings on it, but looked like it'd been used. The roll of pages was slipped under the door, Xavarian grinning amused, before he quickly and quietly bounded back down the hall, not wanting to be caught there... this time.

[align=center]Interlude[/align] Xavarian's mind hadn't stopped swimming. He had so much to focus on, and yet, despite all the practice he took with his Aether, despite the work he'd given the grimoire he'd been commissioned on, despite his nervous organizing and re-organizing of his room, and despite his wandering to places he'd gotten turned around at several times, his thoughts hadn't stopped their drifting to what he was trying to distract himself from. Why was he so nervous? Was it even really nervous that he was? But the thoughts just came back instead as what would she say? every time he tried to come up with an answer. Strange trails of Aether went remarked upon, and several passing apologies were given throughout the night. Still, near the dawn he returned to the Inn. Still, nothing. But what could he expect through the night hours? It was a bit early for him to rest, but he was eager to do it. Perhaps that was what he needed to right his thoughts. Forcing himself to sleep wasn't all that difficult (especially for a thaumaturge) and he eventually drifted off after the unusually worrisome day. [align=center]____[/align] The duskwight awoke slowly the next evening; the kind of slow coming to when you really don't want to wake up, where that dream you can only remember a part of and the feeling it gave seem like an excellent place to remain, and damn consciousness for sluggishly trying to drag you on. He laid in his bed for a while. His head re-hid itself under the covers. Though eventually he emerged from the cocoon of blankets, and he readied himself to exist out in the world. He'd gotten a different elaborate undershirt, some pants, and long socks pulled on by the time he noted the.. note by the door. Lips pressed thin, and the temperature shot up immediately. The letter received a steady stare, and while the duskwight meant to stay still, as though the thing might leap up at him any moment, he couldn't help but shift a bit anxiously. It took but a few moments for him to scramble over there, and nearly lunge at the letter, as though it might escape like a moth or a frog if he wasn't fast enough. The duskwight settled himself on the floor, wriggling around and took in a deep breath that caused him to momentarily sit up straight. He let it out. Then held it again, as he went to unfold the letter- but quickly remembered his scepter and practically flailed to scoot over to the table and grab it where he left it. A few moments more were taken to locate the strap to hold the wand onto his arm. It hadn't moved from the spot he'd tossed it last morning; a chair he'd situated near the bed, just for the things he always tended to keep close to him. Xavarian plopped himself sitting back on the bed, and was briefly distracted by eying the arm in question. A hand ran over the spot where he tended to place the strap; all manner of odd, blotchy scars littered the arm, front and back, but that spot in particular seemed to have a strange, small 'ring' of a mark around it too. It was a weird sort of circular shape, like someone had pressed the rim of a glass hard to it. Lips were pressed together, but the duskwight seemed to generally ignore it, taking the strap, returning to the table, and sitting down at it to place the scepter on his arm, and fit the strap around them both. He blew hair out of his face as the heat and embers around him died down, and then scrambled back over to the spot on the floor, as though the letter had been waiting for his return. The ritual of holding his breath repeated, once he'd wiggled into place, and he unfolded the letter now without fear of either freezing or scorching it. At the very first line he already had a huge grin. She did want to be his friend. He hadn't overreached, hadn't been too bold to say he would be one to her. Words are tricky things, and he knows if it wasn't what she'd wanted to say, then she could easily reply with 'that wasn't meant for you' and it'd still make perfect sense all. He'd half expected it, really. Maybe even more than half. But he was quite glad he was wrong. The little sparks that jumped all over him abound as he continued to read. And soon, they were coupled with a steadily rising heat. Blinks of surprise held as Xavarian read on. He read the letter over and over, covering his mouth at times, a grin hardly able to leave his features, though his brow was sometimes furrowed. Anxious? Contemplating? Certainly 'pleased' was in there somewhere. He found himself getting up and pacing with the page, a free hand running through his mess of hair, him nearly tripping over that chair once. The small room was wandered with barely audible tiny sounds he made to himself in the tumble of thoughts that came from the letter. This feeling. Was he reading this right? Was he? "Hells~" He murmured to himself, a little laugh escaping soon after. "I-" He gestures, letter still in hand as though it were waiting for him to say something. What should he even say? What does he want to say? ... How in the hells is he even going to articulate it? And she wanted a story... Did she mean really? Or did she mean..? Could she mean..? He noted how warm it was in the room now, how the sparks danced all along his arms, and how sometimes there would be this odd.. wave of Aether coming from him. It was a mess. The lines about the mess he and her have ran through his mind again, and he had to cover his face. Pacing continued until the duskwight thought he was calm enough to write something down. Turns out, he wasn't; the paper got a large ink blot on it before Xavarian blurted out some amused expletives, and pushed it away. A second attempt after a few minutes resulted in the duskwight standing, turning away, and rubbing his face with both hands. He didn't know what to do. Maybe he just needs time. Like the hells this would leave his mind, he knew it, it would torment him until he figured it out, him out, them out. But perhaps getting out this.. energy he felt might help it. Thoughts drifted towards seeing her, but - but no, he can't, not like this. He still wouldn't know what to say! And it doesn't work like that, does it? By now the duskwight has already gotten the rest of his clothing on to head out, pulling on boots, messing around with his robes, and returns to the table with the letter. With no small amount of care for it, he slips the page into his tome, before heading abruptly out of the room soon after. His study was the first destination that came to mind, so that was where Xavarian went.

[These notes seem to be written down with some notably degree of haste, despite staying relatively neat.] Gem Visions Mine “There was fire. Roaring, a dreadful, terrible sound that reached one’s core and shook it. Everything was so godsdamned hot that it melted armor to skin, and... It was a battlefield of men shouting, death all around. Fear, exhaustion, blood- until there was nothing.” Sylas' “I felt things--crystals? Bein’ pushed into my body. Couldn’t move. Lots of, uh. Lots of people watchin’. Somethin’ was being chanted.” - May have been pushed out from skin instead of pushed into. - He doesn't know. Lafiaht Found some information on the Sisters of the Red Lotus - “Fuckin’ tracked them, yeah? When I couldn’t find shite in Limsa I went over to Ul’dah. Took a bit—but I found them. They’re exactly what they say in their letter, yeah? Sister of the Red Lotus. Covenant of women devoted to Nald’Thal. An’ I mean fuckin’ devoted. . . But apparently more to Thal. Didn’t stay long, yeah? Would’ve been in poor form to loiter.” - “Ain’t seem much different from any other church, didn’t seem to get many donations but seemed well enough off—Not everyone wore pins but some did. Watched them for a day or so. . . so they might’a seen me but I don’t know how they’d know where I’m at. Granted, how would they know where either of you were at, yeah?” Also something else - "My Carbuncle started sniffin’ further out into the desert, yeah? By the uh. . . the uh—fuck what do they call it. . . Unholy Heir? Now—I’m trustin’ the authorities here which I ain’t usually wont to do but from what they said a body was found round there a couple days ago. Kinda fishy—Considerin’ their scent was lingerin’ round the place. Don’t see why a priest of death would be needed anywhere other than a burial ground, yeah?” - Potentially concerning the Spirit - Something to look into ________ [blot] Nevermind, I [streak, blot; the entry abruptly ends here]

I still wonder if she read them. I mean- I thought she had, the way she [blot] At least some, certainly, and the last time we spoke, before parting, how she [blot blot] but I don’t know. She knows I read hers. [blot] Her letters, I mean. How strange it is, to be stuck in two worlds the way we are. There is the one where we are merely and much more than the words we string together, carefully with all manner of feeling we wish to give to them, their rhythm or rhyme. [spot] By mere mention of those words, implication of the thoughts, I feel that world pull me, the place I feel much more of who I am, despite not really being there quite at all. And then there is the world of bodies and stumbling phrases. The one where Avis nearly slips into the ocean at my every arrival. The one where I can never quite say what I think, never quite speak all that rushes around my mind, as it moves far too quickly; I grab at the thoughts fleeing, and get only a piece, another piece, and then another gets in the way when I try to find the rest of the one before. Even here. Even in my own tome I don't always write what I think, as though [a few spots] they are going to find it. I already saw the result of my mis-matched phrasing. I [spot] I think she understood that I was speaking the truth when I explained. It is really only doubt that keeps me from saying she did; I think my desperate.. word vomit amused her far more than it.. perhaps gleamed real understanding. Though I cannot be so bold ever as to assume what she may or may not understand. I hope, though, that she knew I did not mean what she thought. I take she does. She was kinder afterwards. I [blot] It was just horrifying that she might think that I did not appreciate, did not absolutely cherish, the deliberate truths that she writes. Not even necessarily truths in the common sense of the word, but truths of feeling, of how words fit when in that world, a place I'd thought for the longest time would be only a solitary escape. I couldn't even capture a phrase that would rightly explain how I feel for them, her letters. Knowledge does not hold the same meaning for her as it does for me. But anything less would be a disservice. More than poetry. More than stories. More than tales, or musings, or intimate written soliloquy. It was a conversation between the innerworkings of us both, through a medium of our [blot] I can’t even write the word I was going to, without trailing embers, thinking of what she’d likely say to me if she read it~ Hells, am I to have her quips hovering over my mind as I write to myself, now~? Whatever it is, it is.. so very close to us, something that would never otherwise be known or seen, and I cannot even find the winding phrases to place which would quite purvey the same feeling. [blot] There is so much I am not saying. It all continues to rush through my mind, all of it~ She adored the Eagle and Quill. I was so glad I could show her, that she would now have a place to go and be surrounded with the stories she lives for. Avis said she might’ve been looking for years, and now she has it there and it is so terribly exciting~ I am not sure those who run the shop may necessarily appreciate her sleeping in it, per-se, though. I [blot] I offered she could stay in my study, should that be an issue, and [a few more blots] Well, of course she had something to say about that! It wasn’t- [blot] I mean [a few more spots] Well, I am awake during her hours of sleeping, am I not? I do not see how it would be that strange, if she were to rest while I work in the other half of the room. I mean, if she truly wished to stay there, that would be the logical solution. I doubt they would accept her staying in anyone else’s room. [a few more spots] The next time [blot] How would I even bring that up? I feel I will merely have to storm up one day and [blot] just say it. [blot] Though whatever it is that had occupied her mind in... dissonance when I found her, I hope it is somewhat remedied. [a few blots] I am surprised, though, that she [a few more spots] would take my hand. Even just for a moment. She.. is certainly not like them. [There are some blots on the page, as though the book were hurriedly snapped shut before the ink fully dried.]

Asheloux's Eye Hard to explain what he sees Like a flow of light - certain movements or patterns can be discerned - sometimes recognized as spells - Areas around Dalamud's fall =/= cast fire - Elementals = something of their own He doesn't understand the elements that well, it seems Incidentally, and amusingly, Asheloux was the first to know of my new place of work. He'd caught me once when I was moving, and since came to visit. [blot] Despite reminding me continuously that he can hardly deal with my presence, he did follow me to the Eagle and Quill when I was heading there, and since returned to visit. [a few spots] Oddly, it seems we may have more in common than I previously thought. He'd mentioned that [blot] he hasn't seen much of the world himself. He'd only been able to wander, I believe it was 8 or so years back? I didn't write it down, as [spot] well, my Aether was being.. problematic. Oh, right: Remember that he was after books on Nymian History. He gave no specific titles, but [spot] well, he is researching the topic, so should he not find any on his own, Rachelle may be able to help him if he returns. Anyroad [blot] he expressed some interest in learning more of my Aetherical work at a time when he might be able to .. tolerate my presence~ Though in truth, I've hardly been able to experiment with nor test much of what I would like to. I'm sure he likely has much more Aetherical skill and experience than I, though I [blot] well, I have been a part of some.. interesting things, of course. And [spot] Well, I still couldn't tell him what he wanted to know. But I also couldn't get that far into it without [a few spots] letting something be known I'd rather keep closer. [a few more blots, and the entry just ends abruptly there]

Grimoire Order: Notes Gift for someone getting into Arcanima - Perhaps beyond beginner, but by description, doesn't sound to be yet advanced. A novice? Healer - "can't imagine her hurting someone" Carbuncle - focus - "Stumpy stunted little thing" - Likely something to enhance her connection to it, and its power. "Authoritative figure" - "something with some 'oomph' would put a smile on her face." Lighter palette preference - Something ornate, gleams when used Whites and Silvers - favors extravagance - something that flows and is fancy Complete as soon as possible - 5 day pick-up / check in time Payment: 10,000 gil, and any crystals she may cross. - rather cheap for what she's asking. - though much more would be problematic for her. First Thoughts Elaborate Healing and Channeling Grimoire - Use of Wind and Earth Crystals to augment and enhance a Carbuncle's abilities. - Use of Water Crystals to augment the grimoire to a more healing-sort of aspect. Features - Weight customization - Aether enhancing - High-grade paper, silver-leafed page edges - Travel ready - Easy snap shut, and open - Elaborate metal-work cover - Elementally resistant - May consider others later on.

The Eagle and Quill Bookstore Rachelle Aquilloux - Manager - May be Duskwight? - Her Family name is not familiar to me [blot] - Seems kind enough - Has a coeurl kitten Seeks to hire me as a scribe Agreement - I will split the profits for scribework - From those who come into the store seeking such services, profits will be split. - Outside commissions are my own. - I will take Trades of Knowledge as I please. - However, I will help with mending tomes, or binding new ones for the store as needed in exchange. Thoughts on this - Higher-end gil commissions (of those who enter the store seeking them) I will split. - Lower-end gil commissions (of the same) I will keep, as per to recoup material costs (especially since they have none here, it seems). - Trades of Knowledge are my own, though I will certainly give the Knowledge that I think may help those in the store. - I will pay all manner of 'rent' should it be needed. - I will mend tomes on request of the managers and assistants for nothing in return. - I will create blank books on request for the Quill for nothing in return. - The place alotted to me will be a study for my work. - I will bring in customers to the store on my own accord; typically those who'd enjoy the tomes as much as I~ - It sounds that they will help me advertise as well, somehow, though I know not the details on this beyond what Sanoe already does. Dietrala Verglace - Nervous Miqo'te woman - Seemed to have trouble speaking when she arrived. - pouts often - has a close relationship with Rachelle - one of her best assistants - Apparently one named Khairi is also an assistant Has a crystal stuck in her cheek - reacts painfully to ice Aether (or my shifting anomolies) - has been there for two years - keeps it covered with a bandage - speculates a heated bandage would solve the issue? - needs to keep it warm, perhaps an opposing countermeasure is somehow the solution [blot] Mention of one named Danasorian - would apparently have a 'pissy fit' over something Dietrala is sleeping with Khairi - [blot] Unsure if that is literally, or [blot] - Maybe both, considering. Dietrala doesn't want a proper room - currently resides in storage with Khairi Dietrala showed me about [there is a vague layout diagram here of what looks like two floors of the same building. Certain sections are labled: Physical Sciences, Aetherical Sciences, Geology, Mining, Mythology + Legends, Philosophy, History, Biology, and Anatomy. The second diagram has no labels. Next to it is written 'OLD'] Non-fiction books are warded - Lightning Aether will harm anyone taking them out without permission Map under the desk in the front. Others' rooms Dietrala + Khairi - storage - filled with books - knock if a customer needs attending Meeting room - important announcements held - "usually by our stuck-up financer" - Ishgardian Noble Mira + Lady Micharan Danasorian's room - Danasorian = Financer - "Mich has a bit of a stick up her ass, but she's a good person." - Rachelle - Mira = "a sorta ditzy coeurl" - handmaiden of Danasorian My room - relatively empty for now - I'll need to move everything in soon Previous Manager - "Our previous owner was good, but... she sorta killed a lot of people." - "Raynard was trouble." - "By the way... if you find a book in circulation writ by a Zerayya al Rahal? That's her. I suggest not reading it... or, at least, not trying out what is in her book." Dietrala claims that's 'above my paygrade'. - ... I can't help but be terribly amused by that, considering what my 'paygrade' is on my own. Advice and Request by Dietrala - "If you see a scruffy Wildwood man with a big spear sitting out front or downstairs, that's probably Exantraux. If it's not? Kill him with fire." - Conversation between Rachelle and Dietrala: R: "Please don't do that, love, I need him whole." D: "I said if it's not Exantraux!" R: "They're probably customers then! Don't kill the customers! We had enough killing here!" D: "NYEHHH." (in defiance) The Professor - Professor Fluffernutton, Honored Beast of House Danasorian - the coeurl kitten - Mira's cat Dietrala - called 'Dee' - Refuses to get a room - Or take a bath, apparently. - Dee and Rachelle seem to [blot] bicker like an older and younger siblings. Question (Rachelle asked) - "How good are you at removing ensorcelled ink? One made of spoken blood, specifically." - I mentioned it depends what it was on, but that it could be done. - Reply: "... I'll ask for your help sometime, maybe. Let's just say Miss Reynard left... a lot of things behind." - I agreed to help - She returned to the basement to get drunk with the Professor. I was heading out - heard someone coming in asking about theories of the Void - Titled 'Into the Abyss' - Syrana Nuveri was her name - Leader of Alteria's Breath - The book is within the previous owner's personal collection Note this. [At the end, there is another diagram here, scribed much more elaborately and precisely, of what might be the previous layout. Everything is neatly labeled, and it looks like a valid map and floorplan in itself. There is a note near it with an arrow pointing to it that reads 'Use This One']

Note to self: Lafiaht is going to help me sort out whatever is happening with these gems, and perhaps the spirit as well. [blot] She doesn't seem particularly pleased about the situation, but is rather willing to help with the hunting. Her carbuncle needs things to sniff out. I hope the letter would suffice enough. I've since sent her copies of my notes, and told her about everything I know of the thing gem. [a few spots] I hope to hear from her soon, and [another spot] well, I'm quite grateful for her assistance. She says not to worry about it, that she needs nothing in return... [a few more spots] But she gives off the air of one who is mildly trapped. In some way, I wish I could give her something so she might be able to pursue what she'd like, instead of being held by the other obligations she notes keep her from such endeavors. I doubt she would take it though, even if I did. And it would.. likely be 'weird' as she puts it. Though I hardly see why. [blot] There are times I feel... it is unfair what I have. Though I suppose, of course, there are trade-offs. Other possibilities. I likely would never have survived were it not for my particular... situation. There are likely families that would have left me, being of little use to them in any way. I am always grateful, but I cannot help but feel the wish to somehow give more to those who could really use it. The Family tended to be very... tight about what they would give, and for what price, the Trade being of utmost importance, even though, at times, they would ask for something very 'little' and others something very great. [a few blots] I've written all I am thinking here before. I just cannot help but find myself wishing she had further freedom. Perhaps, though, she has exactly as she wants, what she chose, so really, my thoughts are invalid. I suppose a better thing to say would be, I wish she could have what she's after, to pursue more of it without feeling that it's out of reach. ... If that's what she really felt, anyway. [blot] I didn't mean to ramble here, but look what happened~ I ought to be working on other things.

Spirit Translucent spirit of a woman - wore a white dress - white hair - white eyes and skin - Had a Red Lotus pin on her clothing, that stood out the most Visions - blood - a dagger raised before punging downward - life leaving - water grows red with blood - ...no peace. - whispers, flowing like an unending river - screaming and howling - begging for mercy - cursing the gods - cursing me - "The raven, the Raven, the RAVEN. Why... why WHY?!" She came closer - "Life was given. Life was stolen. For you. For YOU. For the Raven. For the Mountain. For the Bear. For the Oak. For you, You, YOU." I ask what I can do to answer her - She doesn't speak words, though I hear thoughts. - There is anger, wishing for revenge, anguish - "Find me. Find Me. FIND ME." More visions - A splash of water - hulking creatures move through muddy... liquid - A strange tree looming over heat, golden sand, and stone - A knife plunges deep - Life leaves. - Aether streams off in shining strands - Likely the place where she died - And the place she wishes me to find. She then moved elsewhere, back the way she came A Miqote was near me - started stammering about how he got similar visions - asked if I knew what to do or how to help. Got something different - "I saw something again! I saw what looked like some sort of expedition she was going on, perhaps she was a soldier...? She didn't call me anything though, no names... I just saw blood. Lots and lots of blood..." Mentioned an 'Oasis Place' - said he was a dancer and entertainer - not 'cut out' for a murder mystery Oasis Place = Forgotten Springs - Sagolii desert - claimed the setting of the sand and water looked familiar Had not heard of the Sisters of the Red Lotus She wandered by again, and I got another vision - Cold water - ran up to her ankles - a menacing tree overhead - Creatures as large as homes nearby - sands warm from the sun - antlings were too far to be dangerous Looked at us with white eyes - then vanished into a mist The Miqo'te asked why us - I mentioned I thought I knew what it was connected to - showed him the gem He thought perhaps I had killed her in a past life I said I thought it was connected to the stone itself, what it's doing with Aether, or perhaps that she is connected to it somehow. Perhaps 'The Raven' owned this gem prior, or it was created from something of theirs. - Thus she connects me, as the holder, to The Raven Miqo'te thought that she might equate me with the Raven, her killer, and wish me to atone for his crimes somehow. - Is not a scholar - Though offered to help by seeking out information at the Taverns Miqo'te - Waltz Concerto - traveling dancer and entertainer I gave my first name Waltz decided he would help me and needed nothing in return - wished to see the woman at peace. - would contact me with what he learns He would also like to know what I find out - Should send word to him by Moogles with 'Waltz'.

I am still so incredibly glad that Sylas found the grimoire to be perfect. Perfect! I don't think any have said quite a thing about what I have done for them before, and this. This grimoire was of such importance, I am so glad that he finds it so pleasing~ He himself was a rather interesting man. His thoughts on Aether were most intriguing, things that I rather agree with fully, and [blot] it was somewhat... endearing, how often his mind drifted to Lafiaht. She clearly means so much to him, and, well, it was - is adorable the proper term~? To see how much he thought of her, how much everything connected back to her in his mind, and how much grand change she'd brought to him; things he felt he never would've known without her. 'Adorable' is not a term I use very often, I suppose, but I.. I always enjoy seeing when another is truly excited over something, expressing something that they truly.. love. Something that lights their spirit in such a way to have them act as they wouldn't otherwise, so consumed in the moment that they beam and grin, lose themselves in their thoughts, their whims, and are so caught up with the Knowledge, the experience, of what's before them, that they show a bit of themselves that would otherwise never be seen. A glimpse of what truly matters to them. He is a good man, from what little I can tell. I fear at times much of what I spoke of ran its way past him; he is the sort who is.. a deep thinker, but not necessarily 'scholarly', I suppose. Still, I doubt not for a moment that he knows a great many things, especially considering the thoughts he expressed to me. Intelligence fares in all manner of ways, even those - especially those - less familiar to me. I wish him well on the rest of his studies, and hope we may meet sometime again~ Though, I doubt I'll ever find them in the Mist. ... Unless I'm not meaning to, then perhaps~

Sylas Peregrine Lafiaht's mate - practicing Arcanima - blew up a rat Got the Grimoire~ - finds no problems with it - thinks it's perfect Ruin - 1st Offensive spell many Arcanists learn - A sphere of unaspected Aether meant to explode on a target - He cast it by forming the Aether, then smacking it with the Grimoire into a rat - The rat exploded (rather gloriously~) Live in the Mist - Invited to come by sometime

Avis Comes from a family of brutal merchants. - claims the story is rather dull Very curious about my past endeavors - Though such things will not come simply from me. Offered a Trade of Knowledge - She asked what I wanted. - I said: "For the Trade to be at least equal… by all honest measure, what I’d like to know is something about yourself you’d rather keep hidden~ Something you don’t speak of, and wouldn’t speak of, to any but one you’ve a reasonable trust for, because, whether it will or not, this thing feels like its telling could leave you vulnerable.. or even subject to a change that frightens you~ That is what I need to know~ For something of that nature, that is clearly of that nature, that is what you will get from me, hm? As well as, I would hope, a relative respect for Knowledge of this nature to be treated accordingly~” - Conditions: Not to be spoken of to others (both). - She did not yet choose to give anything, as such, for now I have won~ [blot] She also left the 'decision' up to me. - On [a few more spots] an experiment. ___________ [a few blots] She couldn't have been serious. As though I am going to let her get away with that~ Yet... [blot] Well if Avis would go that far, even if I challenged her, at least I ra[a large blot, something scribbled out in a mess of ink] But that doesn't matter. What matters is she can't be serious, and I am going to call her on it~ Eventually. Maybe. She takes such delight in seeing me unable to deal with her words at times, well I can't help but wonder what she'd do trapped in her own phrases. Would she really offer herself as a solution to [blot] those [spot] 'problems'? Would she really go on several 'hypothetical dates for scientific reasons' insofar as to study me further? Subject who she is to [spot] myself in that way? Is the Knowledge worth that much to her? I very much doubt it~ Though..[blot] On a different note! I think I won~ At least on one point. ... Well, I didn't actually win anything, really but anyroad. She is.. [blot] ever curious about me it seems, as I am of her, really. And I do hold any number of Secrets, not all that are mine to give. However she wants to know mine. And. Well, they may not be very interesting when out, they are still bits of Knowledge that are close to me. I can't let them go that easily, and certainly not without something at least equal in value in return~ She wasn't willing to give what I asked for, as I imagined. Many wouldn't. It's .. quite important. Which is exactly the point; I can't help but wonder if others give her such details so freely. Though I know that some would. . . they don't often realize the meaning, the inherent value, of what such things are to the self. ... Then again, they may not matter to others, perhaps. Perhaps she's just met any number of people whom it didn't matter to, which is always possible. Yet. I feel that those who are wise, and have something worth holding, even if it isn't much in itself, but enough to tell about the one holding it... they are the sort to keep such things close. She keeps those things to herself, or even, perhaps, away from herself. Yet certainly not wanting them in the hands of anyone else. To which I respect fully~ ... And also why I think I won~ As curious as she is of me, I have no reason to give myself to any who wouldn't value the knowledge for more than having it. Trade is required. Knowing me for Knowing you; and even that doesn't count for everyone, only for those... well. Who seem worth Knowing. I think all have Knowledge that is worth the time, something one can learn from, grow from, and likewise give in all number of ways. Yet.. Personal Knowledge, Knowing someone is different. It is the place I will choose. Only some will get opportunities beyond what I give in observed action. Even fewer still will take them, have the patience for them, be willing to [blot] show themselves for them. It's the only way it's Equal, and by the hells, for the first time, even in light of being on a surface, a place already bent against what I am, I'd really like to be Equal. I doubt it will happen. But it is the one place I can hold out for it, and I won't let it go for anything less. The vaguely curious, the 'interested but for a moment', the ones who want to know to toss it to the wayside later, like a once interesting feather they no longer care to hold onto.. let them find someone else's secrets to toy with till bored. Even if the Knowledge isn't put above much else, even if it becomes a ghost, shifting shadows in the back of one's mind... I want it to have meant something once. Let it be something to have been learned that really mattered somehow. Something obscure, little value to most but maybe means something to someone, for if they really want it, it will be there. Knowledge has an interesting way of being what you want it, or need it, to be at times. What one puts into it is what they get back. And I'd just really like what I have to be worth getting. But if even an equal trade is too much, not worth the time, the price, not worth to the one asking what it takes for the one giving it in the first place, then I doubt it'd really mean something, hm? I will give... but only what I think will matter. And I can never say what will matter to another, but posing such a trade is a good way to get a closer idea. Not that I really.. actually expect the Knowledge to be that to anyone. That anyone would want it so much. I'm really [blot] just some mess~ But I'd always liked the way some Knowledge really means something, and that what means something can be any Knowledge at all, depending on the person after it. That a key was dropped by some rocks. The name of one's mother never known. The answer to a riddle. The last thing a child said before leaving the other day. A book title. A simple tale from another's life. [spot] It can be among those things too, right? [blot] Anyway. If she wants it someday for something equal back, it'll be there as long as I am. Meanwhile, I'm perfectly glad to be in her company otherwise. She seems to think we don't get along, though she's [spot] I'm fond of her. Even if she seems to enjoy tormenting me, by the hells~ She got one of those gems too, actually, (I wrote the notes on a prior page) so perhaps the both of us can figure out what is going on with these curiosities.

I've been curious about something like this, and while I messaged someone a while back about a Duskwight LS, I heard that it was mostly an IC thing. Might this one be an OOC thing, or might there be an OOC LS out there to help Duskwight players talk or potentially get together somewhere? Does anyone know?

It hadn't been so long as Avis may have thought it'd be for Xavarian's return to the Inn, but when he did, he was rather exhausted. Those days prior, when Avis had left the bookstore unannounced, Xavarian hadn't really thought much of it; in fact, he really didn't expect he'd hear from her again at all, unless he was the one who hunted her down, or she wandered in because she had questions about something or other. She was somewhat of a wild thing in his eyes, and she would do exactly as she pleased when she pleased it with no time for the trifling formalities of greetings and goodbyes. If her whims caught whiff of something to follow, she'd be off in the next few moments. Or so he thought. Not that he found any fault with it in the least, likely just the opposite. Though he would have, in fact, been surprised if she had made pause and given him any sort of farewell. Of course, it may have been just as well she hadn't too, because in those prior days and nights, Xavarian had any number of visitors in his study bringing him all sorts of things, between tasks, information, books, and.. gods know what those damned artifacts were. All of it had been an endeavor in itself, and by the end of it, the duskwight found he was both exhausted from the encounters and his work, in addition to not wanting to be in that room any further. So back to the Inn it was. It was the pages at his feet when he opened the door that lit the duskwight's features up from dreary. "Oh-oh.." Lips were sucked in at the anticipation between gathering the pages, noticing the paper, then heating up to a point where, yet again, he had to drop them and step back. He fumbled to find his scepter and stuck it back into its spot against his arm in his sleeve, before he went to, carefully, collect the pages like small gifts again. Instead of the table, Xavarian found himself wandering over to the bed to sit himself down on it, while gingerly turning the pages around to see if they were all in order. He set them down again, when he found he couldn't just kick his boots off and actually needed to unbuckle them for them to be loosed (what a pain). But once one, two boots were kicked across the room as they were freed, he grabbed at the pages once more, then scoot himself back against the wall behind the bed. Stocking feet and knees were pulled up as he held the pages close to read. As he began, a fond sort of smile crossed his features. A story. What she lived for. That she would give him a story for his riddles didn't slip by him, and he let himself be taken into the world she was presenting for him; though he always considered the writer. A few things caught his interest, but it wasn't until 'sickness' that he really gave pause. At that, his lips pressed together, and any number of other thoughts raced, though he continued to read it through to the end. He caught several other words of his interest as well after that, but gave another pause at the last two lines. Xavarian felt himself warming up, despite the scepter to his arm. In the context of the story, it was a bitter-sweet sort of lost solace. In the context of something for him, though. . . The duskwight took to reading the story over and over. Before long, he'd flopped over on his bed and was laying down on his back reading it. He enjoyed it for what it was. Enjoyed it for what it meant, or what he thought it did. And then he'd looked for different things, certain words, connections, correlations to what he already knew, anything and everything he looked at. And he kept at it for a while. Or what felt like it must've been a while. [align=center]--[/align] Xavarian awoke abruptly the next evening. Blinks prompted him to somewhat pat himself in fear of rolling over and crunching something, but he found the letters still safely laid on his chest from whenever he must've fallen to sleep. By the gods, he was glad his scepter kept him from any strange temperature anomolies, and even more glad that he slept like a deadman; despite his excellent hearing, he barely moved at all when he slept, and was often akin to a rock. He wouldn't have easily forgiven himself if he'd rolled all over and damaged these pages. They too looked like they were from Avis' notebook.. That she would pull out so many for him. With a mostly silent yawn, numerous face rubs, and some wincing stretches, the duskwight pushed himself out of the bed from his unintended (though definitely needed) sleep, to place the papers on the table, and himself in the chair in front of them. Then he got to work. First, he scribed an exact copy of her words, even copying the font, (because he could) and began to underline a few particular things. These caused him to grin. She'd found some of them. Other words, he emphasized, writing over them carefully several times, words that were close, perhaps, but not quite. He also used this to try and determine what he thought may have been her guesses, though these were not the right words. Perhaps they were for the story, but not for what he was considering now. Then Xavarian pursed his lips, the temperature rather warm, following other various thoughts while rereading the last lines several times. Slowly, he pulled some paper from the stack that remained here, and began to write. Or try. He found for a long time he just stared at the page, not knowing how he even wanted to begin, to even try to condense all that he was feeling and thinking into words. Though once he actually managed to start, the rest began to trickle out across the paper easier. [align=center]--[/align] The duskwight made a quick, quiet, yet worried walk to Avis' door. In his haste, he'd somehow managed to go the right direction the first time, and didn't actually realize it until the door was in front of him with the appropriate denotation. That couldn't help but get a smile out of him. Troubled air around him shifted all over in temperature, tiny sparks abound, though much more subtle than usual, with his scepter still in place. He looked over briefly the single page he had. He made faces at it. They were all somewhat worried faces. Faces made when right before taking a leap you don't know you'll make to the other side. Faces made before taking a cared-for test, faces for anticipation of the worst or the best. Bright teal eyes darted between the page and the door, and half of him wanted to stay there. But that wasn't how this World they had worked, was it? What is he even thinking anyway? Huffs are made to himself, almost indignantly, before Xavarian slid a single sheet of that swirling paper under Avis' door. This time, face up. Its script was immaculate in most places, yet there was a small ink blot on the page once. He'd left it. It was, unfortunately, something he did that was a bit telling of him, afterall, and that was half the point, wasn't it? Once done, and a nervous pause later, the duskwight hurried himself off, and likely out into the night air. He needed to do something with himself to shake this.. whatever this is filling his head, as he couldn't decide if he liked it, or found it mildly terrifying.

Books of Xavarian I've been trying to keep his journal up to date, though I'm about 7 or 8 entries behind, currently. I have a lot of the notes though! Just a matter of writing them out onto the forums. Regardless, this thing is still active. It is.. a collection of notes, occasionally riddles, and actual entries based on IC events that have happened to the character. So it is very much a character journal, it's also a real IC item, and something I emote him writing in a lot during conversation. It's much less a collection of additional stories, like what some people do, and much more what my character is actually writing about when he suddenly pulls out his elaborate tome ICly and starts scribbling stuff down. Thus, if you meet my character ICly, there's a good chance you'll show up in there somewhere. ... eventually. Entries aren't correlated to the irl time I actually post them, but they ARE all in chronological order, so at least there's that. *lays down*

Hello again! First of all, this is another nice thread. Though like Ashe, I've also been trying to catch you, but haven't had the best of luck. (Or may have gotten pulled into something some times you were on, alas.) I'd still definitely like to throw Xavarian and Null together sometime though (to see the chaos). :> That said, in my case, I'm actually really behind in writing for my character, a ton of things have happened, and I need to get his journals written, so I'm less likely to actually be in-game without prompting for a bit. At least until I catch up on all of Xavarian's journals, so they don't keep piling up on me, gods. However, I still do jump on occasionally, or especially when people ask me for RP either through the forums, or IMs as well. So if you find you're online for a time, and wouldn't mind playing with a questionable, awkward, knowledge hungry duskwight, you're totally free to poke me with a PM here to sort something out. If you want, of course! I don't mean to put it all on you, I've just not been able to discern your schedule; I, on the other hand, am online all over the place (though typically RP in the EST evenings for now) I also check the forums decently often, and even though I'm not in-game a ton lately, I am online a lot, so I'll likely find a message sent here sooner or later. Otherwise, relying on seeing me in-game is probably a rather small, sporadic window, if I don't log in for any particular reason. So the forums are probably (for now) a better place to contact me personally, unless the both of us manage to get lucky in FFXIV. That said, good luck collecting shady contacts. >u> I hope the RPing here has been fun so far.

How quick the surface is. Things move at such a fast pace, over and over, everything continues to place it's little bits of Knowledge so quickly, that it's hard to keep up. I met with Ellemeare, and some man who'd give not his name. The former [blot] She [spot] she said she considered me a friend. I [a few blots] I mean, I don't know how that happened, especially considering how she explained. She said that I was one of the few things constant in her life, that.. I was there when others had gone, and. [a few more blots] Well, I feel I've hardly been there at all. I think we've met all of four times, perhaps? And I know so very little about her, or [blot] well, at least I feel I do. And she even less of me. And yet. [a few more spots] She seems to trust me somehow. Hells, I don't even know if I trust myself all that much, in a number of situations. Especially where she [blot] well, something more seemed to have occurred as well. Her mentor was accidentally killed by.. some uncontrolled flaring of Aether, and she blames herself for it. That.. must be dreadful, especially after she'd mentioned that she saved his life before. She sounds to have gotten into all manner of messes, but is learning more how to control her power, at the least. [a few spots] She asked if I could give her a hug once she told me. She needed.. something, surely, and [a few spots] I know little of friendships, how one is meant to be a good friend, I'd always thought it was to do with knowing each other, and with that, such things would come. [blot] I write as though I were some emotionless being, lost and unsure of what it is to have such inclinations, and while I'm not the former, I really don't know how to go about showing the latter~ Everything seems so different up here, what if friendship is not the same on the surface? Though, really, I've only read about it, because as I understand it, friends are not Family, and [a few blots] well many would not count Vathen. That really only leaves those of Little Solace. It is perfectly possible though, that all manner of cultures do things differently. I'm not sure it would be appreciated if I gave Ellemeare some poisonous milkroot, and greeted her with a dance, as the Sylphs would enjoy, and I really don't know how else to go about it. Though despite my fears of either freezing or burning her, I did give her a hug. ... I hope I didn't do it wrong. I've never [blot] well, no one really.. ever touches me. Why would anyone want to get close to someone who erupts in Aether every other given moment? It's really just.. [blot] logical sense, I suppose, but. She wanted to anyway. I.. managed to keep it down and not hurt her, and.. well, whatever I did it seemed to soothe her some. She is so incredibly nice to me. Incredibly nice. She showers me with kind words, and trust when she knows me so little, and [spot] It's It sounds odd, but I don't even understand it~ Well, I mean, of course I understand that she's being nice, but. As in just [spot] just why? I'm trying to accept it, it is likely just who she is, but it's still just... incredibly... different. Is it wrong to be worried about someone being kind~? Probably. But I feel like.. I feel like I should somehow be able to return such feelings of, apparently, utmost trust, and I just cannot. At least not in the way that she seems to feel. I trust her enough not to wish me harm, or [blot] ill, and to keep her word when she claims she'd do something, but, there is still.. that doesn't seem like the same trust she claims to have in me. It's not because of her, but because I don't really know her yet. We've not been through enough, I know little beyond her niceness, troubles, and the few choice life details she decides to tell me, and she knows near nothing of myself. I can't help but wonder if this is some [blot] cultural dichotomy, but. Well, I suppose that is part of why I'm about, hm? Not to say that I don't like her, and don't wish to be her friend, I'm.. flattered, and pleasantly surprised, despite not knowing what I'm doing~ But I [spot] I suppose I wish it were more equal somehow, in feeling. I hope I don't disappoint her too terribly. [spot] She did something else, though, that is of note. I believe she attempted to suppress my Aether. Keeping the heat down to a cool, but when she did [blot] I felt [a few spots] It finally came back. The uneven spells of whatever in the hells is wrong with me. It hadn't happened for a long while, quite a long while. Much longer than it had ever stayed at bay Below, so much that I could, of course, move about freely. Explore without issue. It never seemed to come up! And it has been such a treat, such a freedom to be able to move about as I please, but. Then... it surfaced. Not much. Only just a little. And... well I'd been wondering where it'd gone. It was actually more exciting than it was worrying, because then I knew a bit more about it. Whatever sort of Aether suppression she managed, it brought it back; which. Well, I mean, I had been wondering if I should suppress my Aether all along, but this implies I shouldn't. That I should let it be as it is, however it's changed itself, and I'll be able to move about~ By the gods, I can't imagine how it would've gone if I had done something myself in the ways of suppression. It likely would have been much stronger, which may have been much worse for me. And she did a good job of it too! Managed to keep it down to a point that wouldn't hurt her [a few blots] I need to think on this more. But there it is, anyway. She now resides at the Goblet, in the case that I should wish to visit this... family she's staying with. I [blot]

[There is a letter tucked into the pages here.] Letter Paper type - Mediocre; nothing of particularly high, nor low, quality. Script - Crisp, clean, immaculate - feminine touch Page treatments - None Any residual leftovers on the page (blemishes, prints, water damage, etc) - Nothing discernable Gem Appearance - small (palm sized) - crimson - engraved with what looks like a raven - flat - seems benign - has no marks or blemishes; nothing implying it was once part of something else (like jewelery, etc.) Aether - seems to have an Aetherical presence - Seems to draw in outside sources of Aether - My own appeared to be unaffected. - Though it was traced. - Then the gathered Aether heads off to some other location Attempt to follow - Towards the Mist - Then directionally shifted? - Or did I get turned around? - ... Had I been turned around this entire time? Location the 'threads of Aether' head towards seem to move - perhaps - Thus may not be a location, but something clearly mobile. - A particular person? - An item being moved? - Different beacons? [a few blots] When my Aether shifts it tries to avoid mine. - Other than feather touches. - Seems like it's trying to familiarize itself with my Aether Experiments Placed it near a raven (or raven equivalent) - Nothing occurred. Placed it near Aetherically potent objects - Doesn't absorb Aether from them - Appears to be taking in something specific, but not discernable just yet. Placed it near various elements - Does not seem to have any reaction Compared with Avis' gem [*] Her gem had a book engraved into it. [*] Smaller, her palm size [*] Appeared to be doing the same thing as my own, save for I could not feel the 'touch' from hers, nor could she feel any 'touch' herself. [*] We briefly exchanged them and nothing malicious happened. - Though we got the sense that they were made particularly for us, given her gem did not seem to react to me. [*] Avis also received a letter. - seems to be the same. - Why in the hells did we both get these? [*] She was unaware that I had also gotten one until she came to me to ask about hers.

By the gods and the hells, Avis, please. I [a few blots] She started it all! Somewhat. Well, I suppose I chose to partake, so it is really my fault. [blot] ... I should not drink much so strong in their presence. I mean, well- it was for an experiment, but- [blot blot] I nearly melted them. I think. Or myself. ... Maybe? The professor, however, was far worse off, talking about softness, and cuddling things. ... Blowing up those nearby. I only remember somewhat, which, hells. My staff is not [streak, blot] How dreadful. Yes, I certainly just wa I am not even going to write that! Why would she even consider such things? I need to cool off, lest I melt my pen. ... Though I suppose it was somewhat amusing. And no, I am not going to be any clearer about this because the last thing I need is the potential for Soli to snoop through this tome, (which I would be tempted to -[blot] to freeze her for, mark my words Soli, I will know) and then have her asking me questions. Of...[blot] that nature. Which would be highly disturbing, really. [a few spots] The professor did say, though, that we were [spot] like his family. How odd, yet. ... Endearing. Despite him saying he was disappointed I didn't explode earlier, I mean really~ And Avis... I believe I said something I [spot] may have rather not. Still. Perhaps she will forget. Two words don't tend to stick that closely to many, hm? ... For the safety of all Lominsans, please.

The duskwight had made more frequent visits to the Inn that first night. The kind of visits that were like pacing, the ones where you were waiting for something to happen, that you might miss it somehow if you were just a moment late. A strange sort of background-fevered anticipation for something that might not happen at all. That first night was scattered. And frigid. The innkeeper would have seen that peculiar duskwight slide himself along the tavern walls, coming and going with frost trailing behind, a decent amount then, but neither asked any more questions. The second night Xavarian wasn't there much at all. He was instead at his second 'place of residence'. There had been time spent seeing to newly placed shelves, organizing tomes, bothering a wildwood who'd come to visit a bit less than Xavarian expected to bother him, taking an impromptu custom grimoire order from a lost customer, a reminding to himself of how he needed to get better acquainted with the practices of the establishment he'd partnered with, some wandering about the Mist, and then the contemplation on when might be a good time to get closer to the sea. Then would have been the time, perhaps, but he realized his Family robes were not the sort of clothing to be playing around the ocean in. He'd left most of his clothing back at the Inn. Lip pursing and short snorts ensued. This is about when he remembered the Inn. On the third night he returned. --- Opening the Inn-door, the slight waft of air from its swing had nearly scattered all the contents of the pseudo-envelope that had been left for the late arrival. Xavarian's eyes widened seeing it there, that odd folded note with a single frayed edge, and those unrelated thoughts he'd been having on the nature of conjury and its Aetherical possibilities of coming from multiple sources were completely gone. "Oh-oh hells-" Carefully kneeling just to, without any elegance once more, plop himself on the floor, he took up the folded page, carefully looking it over while his other hand gently held the scraps of paper he noticed were cased within. Furrowed brows abound as he read. But then those bright teal eyes shone wide, and he started slowly and carefully, piecing through the scraps. It didn't take him long to realize just what these where, what they were from, and when he did, the temperature sky rocketed and he had to drop them all in a scrap-paper flurry and scootch himself back. The duskwight was stunned. Surprised, and stunned, and all manner of embers attested to it, before he took a small wand from one of his packs, and with it in hand, the embers died down. Was that what he thought it was? ... But that is so...important. Xavarian hadn't realized he'd been covering his mouth with his free hand while staring at the scattered scraps of paper like a precious gift had just exploded... yet left something of value behind. His lips pressed thin as he scrambled back along the floor closer to them to gather them all together like they were delicate, precious things. Meanwhile he stuck his wand into one of his sleeves and through a band over his arm; it was secured against his skin, and continued to help keep him from immolating the lot of the small pieces. "Avis.. why in the hells..?" His face had pulled into something both mildly mortified, but also somewhat touched. Look what she'd given him. Look what she'd given him. He was never one to handle well the small destructions of books. Bending over page corners made him cringe. Placing tomes face down in ways that would harm their spines caused him hissing sounds when he drew his breath. But tearing and cutting up pages. He was glad he hadn't been there to see it done, as there's no way he wouldn't have found it dreadful. And from what he could recall of the times she flashed it at him, they seemed to be from her notebook. Her notebook. He could only hope that she copied these before cutting them up, but the gesture, he felt, was oddly moving all the same. How precious each of these pieces was. He certainly wouldn't let anything ill befall them. Carefully, he read them all. Then gently spread them all out, as his mind slowly shifted gears, and a slow grin crept across his face. Might these be a puzzle~? --- So it began. First he read each little piece several times, and did the obvious, of attempting to fit them together. They didn't seem to quite connect; either pieces were missing, or these were pieces from many different things. Then, he took to a more observational approach; he looked carefully at the scribing. He knew well enough that, even within one's own hand, variations can be seen. One entry might be written one way, while the next day, the script might take a slightly smaller turn. He placed pieces with the closest script variations in groups with others that were similar, trying to discern further anything more, if he could. He also, of course, checked all the backs, how they were cut if any edges fit together, and any other particular differences among pieces he might find. He arranged, and rearranged them for a while, though figured that they may be exactly as they appear; fragments with little direct connection to each other aside from being in the same book. The theme, though.. was a different matter entirely. When he was done with his investigation, he knew he had to do something worthwhile in return. He had to give a part of himself as well. It wasn't long before he had an idea. So he hastily got to work. --- Finally finished and scrollcase in hand, he made his way briskly down the halls, then turned around to walk the right halls (he'll remember the way eventually. Maybe.), and stopped at Avis' room. His steps were light, quick things, though had a tiny bounce to them. They were exceptionally quiet, a quicker sort of sneaking, like when one is embarrassed and trying to edge around a room with some haste to not be stopped and chided. His breath could be seen, but there were Aetheric sparks all over him too, and it wasn't long before the chill around him warmed up some at his thoughts. The scrollcase was then inspected, along with the space beneath her door he'd been using as delivery. He purposely had shoved all the pages he'd written into the slimmest scrollcase he had on him; a slight, though sturdy elaborate thing. It was almost like a wand in diameter, much smaller than the average scrollcase, and engraved with any number of bright golden symbols standing out against the black metal that made the rest of it. The caps designed like a golden maze of smoke trails; it was all very fancy. And really, if she couldn't make anything of what he'd written, at least he could give her the scrollcase. The question was, though, could it fit beneath the door? For all Xavarian's sneaking, if Avis had been in the room, she was sure to realize his presence outside. He attempted to slide the slim scrollcase through the space between the door and the floor, and- it looked like he might be able to do it!- until it got stuck. "By the hells-" He muttered, now awkwardly squatting in front of this door, robes trailed out behind him, as he tried to either shove the scrollcase all the way under, or wiggle it back out. ... He managed the latter, though not without some struggle. With a huff, Xavarian knew he needed a different approach. The duskwight really didn't want to discuss any of it, not right now, he knew his words wouldn't leave his lips the way they would be read on paper, so if Avis did come to the door at the commotion, he decided he'd not say anything. Just hand her the case with a grin, and promptly be on his way. But in the meanwhile, if she hadn't come to the door, he took to taking the fine chain attached to the case, and winding it around the door handle, connecting the clasp in the links, clearly visible, when it was secure. It was a risk to leave it there; it was clearly of high quality, and would likely fetch a hefty price of sold. Nevermind he didn't want anyone else getting ahold of the contents. His hands chilled, though little frost was seen. He waited a short time, almost like an uncertain guard, before he quietly (though to him, rather loudly) knocked on the door, and then quickly made his way off down the hall. He may have, though, peered back down the hall for a little while once he'd rounded the corner, just to see if a door cracked open, before slipping off. --- Inside the scrollcase, there are a number of pages. Two don't have symbols on them; the first is of the same sort of semi-translucent paper that the previous writings have been on. The second, is on a darker variation; instead of having a bright hue, the page is actually a deep charcoal grey, but still swirling translucent like the previous ones. It is written on in bright golden ink. Six of the pages, on the otherhand, do have symbols on them; they don't seem to be in any particular order, but they are all smaller pages of a high-quality dark paper. It is smooth and crisp to the touch, gold-leaf edged, and durable. Everything written on these dark pages is also done in a rather bright, gold ink. The script of all of them is neat, though the dark swirling page seems to have more flourishes to the letters than the rest.

The Salt Strand Formations up the cliffside - seem crystaline - yet also appear to be the mountainside itself - not 'additional', but perhaps a changed form of the Aether? Jigumundo's Visit Melody's Research - She has a Nymian Tome - Non-translated, apparently rare - got it from someone, though who is uncertain - Suspected to originate in the Wanderer's Palace - Note: I believe that is where Lafiaht mentioned previously wishing to visit Believes a way to translate the tome might be found there The Prof. - Already has a team of adventurers - Himself, Melody, those who are more for 'brawn'. Much to do with Nymian Culture - civilization - Tonberries Not allowing us to go with them - Yet need us to help research - We'll accompany him in meeting 'Miss Melody' Will return with findings - scrolls, tablets - wish us to help translate them Melody - specialist on Nymian culture The Prof -help her gather information as experienced explorer Other adventurers for security Theory of Nymian Downfall (according to the Prof) - "Specialists claim that Tonberries are victims of a terrible sickness... Which made them homicidal and agressive." - Also short and green - Prof thinks tonberries = Nymians - civilization fell to some "epidemy". - Led them to kill each other and destroy all else in the process Melody believes that the tome = a journal - attempt to cure the sickness - That is going to be checked Accompany them to Bronze Lake when they meet - may be able to see the tome Tome - not actually certain what it is - may be a grimoire Some inks used in Arcanima - magical properties - made by Ul'dahn alchemists Avis - is noted to wish to stay away from those in Ul'dah [The writing below here is... strange, to say the least. Compared with the earlier notes, this appears to be rather more careless? Unconstrained? The flourishes on the words are quite exaggerated, and the text is bigger than usual.] Avis dances in fountains and lived in the desert city home * all gone now Jigging said something [there's a large blot that sort of trails to a streak off the page]

You're welcome! There's more stuff out there, you really just have to look, but honestly it's not much. At least that I've come across, anyway. And I know how that is too, I really wanted to track down as much lore on them as I could find, and incorporate a number of things, but alas. I suppose there's nothing wrong with a decent amount of freedom though. Anyway, I'd be glad to play with you sometime. :> I'm probably on the forums more often than I'm in game, but feel free to catch me whenever!

Oh gods. That's.. a very difficult question. Mostly because it's like saying 'How exactly should a(n) [insert race of person here] act?' Basically, whatever you want your character to be like. Duskwights in general (if we're talking about the Shroud-born, cave-dwelling ones), though, are portrayed (in lore) as a 'looked down upon' race. They're often eyed for theivery and shady dealings because they don't necessarily abide by the same 'rules' that those in Gridania often make such a huge deal out of following. Though based on some things I've seen, it's been implied that they were never bound to those rules by the elementals like the wildwoods were in the first place, and the wildwoods just "never got the memo" that this was cool. Though, the people who think they are troublemakers aren't exactly wrong; there are some troublemaking duskwight npcs, though most of the time, the ones you see that are clearly noted as duskwights are being admonished for doing something wrong (like stealing) or otherwise being spoken down to. Honestly, there aren't a lot of them to base much off of; it's one of the more lore-lacking races in the game. Edit: I think the Redbellies are duskwights too, but I never actually figured that out? And they are like a group of aggressive bandits, though they help you at least once. SO. *sweats* I also forgot about the scholarly ones who were studying one of the abandoned underground cities uncovered by the calamity. They are basically just a couple of chilling archeologists though, and don't do anything shady to speak of, really. Duskwight culture seems to be mostly off-screen, since they are secretive, reclusive, and live underground. But it's implied that they have various families and clans, and due to this, people take their characters in different directions. In terms of actual lore, it's been said that 1) They don't care much for cities or establishments with lots of rules. 2) They don't usually care for outsiders and thus, probably have close family ties or at least a heavy pride in their own culture (they are still mostly secluded for a reason), however, if you have a duskwight above ground, then clearly there has to be some reason for it. They can't really get away from outsiders once they're above ground. 3) They have super crazy sensitive hearing, and (tend to) live in caverns / underground homes of some sort. The last part had me form headcanons about duskwights always talking to each other in whispers and hushed voices, since their ears are so good, and one more reason they can't stand the surface is because everything is so loud. Another thing I figured is that they'd prooobably be light sensitive, and I thus made mine generally nocturnal. He always talks very quietly, and can't really see that well in light. I know that isn't really much, but there's honestly not a ton to go on, so I'd just say play a personality that you like, and use the lore to shape them into something that fits with whatever story you're going for. :>