Hal

"Your insistence on wearing a helm even in your dressing gown leads me to believe those secrets you mentioned do know your face." Tani studied Isabelle, her eyes narrowed, but accepted the pearl. "I have no sway with the Maelstrom, but if you need help staying hidden, please let me know."

Tani's first reaction was to stiffen, and then to pat at the other woman. After a few seconds, she withdrew halfway; that awkward dance of when to release. "What happened was ... concerning. I wanted to gather information for myself." And it was for herself, no doubt about that, not that she wasn't above showing kindness now and again. "I know of a safehouse in the Goblet. Should you need it, I can make arrangements. How are you on funds?"

Tani licked her lips. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Silence, as Tani stared at Isabelle. She lifted a hand, wiping sweat from her forehead, and then the sweat onto her skirt. Ew. Ew, but much more preferable to deal with than the grand mess to which Isabelle had confessed. "Ah," she said, because she had to say something. Her brow furrowed, and she thought. "Maybe...maybe next time take the pearl away before, ah, kicking..." That was probably the wrong thing to say. "You drowned in the well rather than take a drink, Isabelle," she said, finally. "But it's done, and I'll not condemn you for trying to save yourself; that it was done poorly is merely a consequence. And now..." she pursed her lips. "I've no desire to see you hung or imprisoned for life. Not for such as this."

"Of course I'm not going to die for it," Tani said, frowning, her voice stiff with the effort to stay standing, and present. "If you wanted death in trade for what happened, you would have tried to kill all of us. I'm not Tasa; she has to move in the best interests of the company. I don't. And while I might expect many things from you, this doesn't make sense. I expect it won't until you tell me what happened." She paused, feeling the sweat at her temples, her scalp, down her back: feeling gross with it and knowing her own fear.

Tani took a long, deep breath. One of her hands migrated up to her empty earlobe, and hesitated there before returning to its opposite arm. She hugged herself. "I want to know what happened. From you."

"Isabelle," she said again, the sternness gone, her voice low and filled with a new kind of reprimand. She sagged a little, but stood firm.

She felt her nails bite into her palms, her hands unwittingly balling into fists. She folded her arms instead. "Isabelle," she snapped, and flinched at the severity of her own tone.

It was one of those mornings where nothing was going right. The heat in Ul'dah's walls was stifling, the air dead and stinking with the heat. It seemed like people were moving slow with it, and Tani was no exception -- hurrying anywhere seemed like a losing prospect. She'd come to Ul'dah on business, and business, but ever since she'd stepped off the airship she'd fought the urge to turn right back around and go back to Limsa. If it had been anything simpler, she might have. Then again, probably the urge wouldn't have been so strong. She'd been digging. Carefully, discreetly, and she'd been surprised to turn up what she had. So, she'd dutifully gone and done the errands that were her overt reason for the trip, and then, well, she'd followed the advice she'd been given. Her stomach was in knots. Moreso when she caught sight of Isabelle. She was sweating with more than the heat as she followed the other woman away from the main thoroughfare and into a warren of alleyways. What was worse was that she could smell her own sweat, her own fearstink, and it was a laugh to think that Isabelle wouldn't know it. But things had ended unsatisfactorily, back in Limsa, and knowing that what she was doing wouldn't be looked upon kindly only added to the stress of the venture. But she had to know. She had to ask. When they stopped, Tani said what had been burning on her mind since Tasa had first told her the news: "Tell me what happened." She owed Isabelle nothing. But still, she had to know.

Hello! Yes, it is still active although, currently lacking an admin for the NA timezone. It's a bit harder to get announcements across as an EU player with a job, but there are still plenty of like-minded roleplayers active in the Linkshell! Awesome! When's a good time to catch you on?

Hiya! Is this group still active? I'd be interested in joining if it is.

Tani squinted, her mouth tightening in distaste. "Oh, good eye. What was she thinking? Overthinking, more like. Getting nervous in the mirror, thinking 'oh, this would look good too!' -- for shame, no one dared tell her she looks like the evil sister in a play." Tani tutted, stifling a giggle herself at Minalla's last comment. "She would make the perfect attraction, you must admit."

"At least," Tani mocked, lightly swatting at her companion's shoulder. "More than that, it's fun to speculate on who will be fashionably ostracized by the end of the night." That coeurl's grin had returned.

Tani laughed, signalling for more drinks; her beverages, on the whole, contained far less alcohol than Minalla's. The bartender was busier, and the wait appropriately lengthened. Not that Tani minded, as evidenced by her good humor. Indeed, her fair skin had colored in her excitement. "There are many places to watch the Ul'dahni strut about, and fan their plumage out, but this is one of my favorites. Here, they compete with each other, vying for attention, to command the respect of their peers and -- indeed -- Master Aylwin. Fashion, posturing, music, drink, and dancing. Besides the merchants and their money, such are the most important parts of Ul'dah. At least for me."

"Of course, darling, why else would I bother to tell you my name?" Tani's voice grew musical, and merry; some of her sobriety fell away. "Nor, truthfully, would I have brought you here. It grows late -- it's almost time for the fun to begin." She gestured to the back. Other musicians had climbed onto the stage, and were beginning to unpack and set up their instruments. As Tani and Minalla had talked, the space had become more crowded. And not just crowded, not as most taverns did; there was a range in the clothing, the accoutrements, the stylings of the patronage. Though the light was sedated, it caught on the sparkling frivolity of many of the newcomers, setting gems and cloth alike to glittering and glimmering, their colors bright and bold. "Welcome," she said, her eyes reflecting some of that light, "to the Posh Cosh."