BasedRNG

That sounds like an idea to me! I'll likely send you a message, but I'll keep an eye out in case you're around as well. He might question your decision to not continue thaumaturge training, but he's never been one to consider healing much either. Well, I'm on Diabolos, but I'd love to get a good Discord Rp or even Forum stuff, if you're down.

Hello! Muijh also grew up in the Shroud, and as a conjurer she may not know much about the dark arts anymore, but she was actually raised to be a Thaumaturge for several years. And she's a Keeper as well, so I think these two would get along famously.

Hey, I just sent you a friend request! I'd loooove to be able to interact with a Garlean.

Hey! My Muijh doesn't really have a fleshed out family line yet, maybe we could work something out!

Heya! My girl Muijh is a conjurer who's pretty good at her job, if I do say so myself. Hit me up!

Just as Muijh was opening her mouth to respond to the girl with whom she shared a table, there was a loud yelling from the direction of her host's throne. It pulled her attention almost immediately, and she would have questioned it's source had she not noticed that the Duke was back to speaking with Makeo. Her curious gaze turned to an intensely furrowed brow and she shot out of her seat almost instantly. She started moving towards the Duke and his two current guests with a determined, angered frown. How dare he simply use this 'contest' to get her out of his hair for a while?! Muijh was certain she would give him quite an earful as soon as she managed to figure out the words.

"Well, Mr. Nebih'a, I shall need to set what equipment I have up back at my room at the Wench, so do please drop by with this note when you are ready." Muijh pulled out a pen and a piece of parchment and wrote down a letter addressing the clerk at the inn, then walked away after handing it to the man. It was a simple thing, only meant to keep him from being stopped by the employees of the inn. The note read as follows: 'This man is to be granted access to my quarters, number 313. He is a patient of mine. Signed, Muijh Mewrilah.'

Naranbaatar looked at her bewildered for a tick. "Missy....?" he whispered under his breath. He pondered on this disconnect between the nameplate outside her door and what she said, ultimately disregarding it as a nickname she'd given herself. He obeyed her order and lay back upon the cot, lifting his knee high so as to give his caretaker the proper access. He was not wholly unfamiliar with traditional medicine, but was yet unacustomed to it, much to his delight. It was not an overlong process, but he felt the urge to return to his previous task, and wished to see it to completion as soon as he was able. In his slight inpatience, he began tapping his finger on his chest as he looked up to the ceiling, not even fully knowing of his own action.

"Worry not, Doctor. I can bear the pain. I've been in far worse spots, after all." In saying this, he was only slightly exaggerating. Any worse injuries he'd sustained had all been quickly sealed by a healer's magicks. "As for the pain... It has subsided immensely. My thanks yet again..." He winced only slightly as he attempted to move to sit up. Once up, he gave a gentle smile of his own, if a bit awkward in execution. "I must say, your hands work near as fantastic as my sister's spells, and almost as fast, too. Pray, what is the cost of this visit?" He asked, reaching for his pouch.

Arulaq winced a bit at his robe being pulled so suddenly, his blood having dried substantially to the fabric during his walk to the clinic. "Rrrgh... Aye, ma'am, though 'tis much more painful than it appears..."

"It would appear you would like to make a new wager, Duke. I may be stunning, this much is true, but I hardly pale in comparison to her. Nevertheless, I accept your challenge as you have ours." Muijh turned to walk in the direction he had specified, a slight sway in her hips as she walked. She waited only a moment for him to follow along before she continued on her path. After making her way through the crowd, Muijh arrived at the table of the young Hyur girl, where she politely sat down in a seat not too near so as not to scare her. She began with a calm and polite greeting, quickly transitioning to her reasoning for invading her space, namely that she had been put up to a challenge of beauty and charm against the poor girl, and hoped that she did not mind too much.

"My thanks, doctor..." he said as he was helped to his feet and to the bed. The man, waving the Roe's hand away politely, climbed slowly onto the cot with a groan. It was an agonizingly slow process, and though he was grateful for the assistance, he felt that he needed to try to help himself to receive help. That was how it was, and always had been for him. As Naranbaatar heard Catharine voice her concerns over Dyrsteyn's handling of him, he could hardly help but to laugh, albeit with a pained cough midway through. "Doctor, you needn't worry too much about such things. If I can survive a blast of my own magic, I daresay I shall be all right if I am dropped onto such a soft cot."

Turning back to him, Muijh gave yet another smile. "Muijh Mewrilah, at your service." she said with a slight bow. "Now, won't you afford me the same courtesy? I can do nothing for you without your name."

Muijh could sense that something about that description seemed familiar, but lacked the necessary information processing skills to put the pieces together. As a result, the comparatively simple Miqo'te pushed the subject from her mind and did away with her doubts of the Duke. "Very well. As I was saying, I am simply too pretty to be allowed to slip through one's fingers, never be seen again. Wouldn't you agree, Duke?"

He was only just able to hold himself up on the door, his right hand clasped to his left hip in hopes of easing the pain. "I-I seem to have made a mess of myself, ma'am, and am--" the Xaela let forth a rough cough in the middle of his sentence before continuing. "-- i-in serious need of your care. I have heard... many good things about your c-clinic so I... made my way here..." His words became more labored with every breath, and it seemed he was on the very verge of collapsing. He winced in pain once more before finally succumbing to it, falling with a bizarre slowness to one knee, his hat falling off onto the floor along with him. "I am... N-Naranbaatar Arulaq... A th-thaumaturge... Hailing from the city of G-Gridania" He continued as he struggled back to his feet. "I was... training on the outskirts of the city when-- Ack!!-- one of my... own spells rebounded and I... was c-caught in the blast..."

"Aye, he does seem gifted with an extra pair lungs. But what I find more curious is you, my lord." Muijh passed an inquisitive glare over his visage. "Pray tell what was written upon that paper. I can see no reason why you should keep anything secret from us. And on that note, why send him away so quickly when you'd so clearly asked for him by name."

She gasped as his wound was revealed. She reached over to touch the hole lightly, but wincing back right before she came into contact with it. Muijh closed her eyes and gave a smile when she reopened them. She turned her body away from him without breaking her gaze and began walking back on her path to the Wench. "Of course. Tell me your name, and I will do for you what I can."

On this same day, a tall, black-horned Au Ra gentleman came limping to the doorstep of the Lominsan nurse. He wore a long, sleek robe of blue and red, with the odd tribal marking decorating the body of it. His hat, though extremely damaged, was made of a similar material to his robe, and was dyed to match its color. It was the standard sort of hat one would expect of a mage, wide-brimmed as well as long and pointed. The Au Ra stood, panting, at the door for what felt like eternity before giving it a weak knock. "H... Hello? Miss Catharine? A-Are you there?" he inquired through the door, catching his breath after each question. He waited patiently propped against the doorframe until his help arrived.

Her legs shook at his words, and the rest of her body followed suit soon. Mayhap it was simply her imagination, but he seemed to be approaching ever closer. She needed an excuse to be rid of him, and fast. "M... My brother, actually, is waiting for me back at the Wench... I-I really oughtta be going. If you require my healing arts, you may come to my room and I will treat you there." She gripped her robe tightly as she took a step back without breaking eye contact.

The momentary relief that Muijh felt as Fallstone stopped for another target quickly faded when A'ih redirected his attention again. With a sigh of exasperation she turned back to the Duke to resume her conversation. She debated to herself for a brief instant if she should take a strategic retreat. Perhaps to the powder room? She decided against it as it would look far too suspicious in timing. "That, my good man, is outstanding news. And aye, it does seem a tad short... Such a shame that you won't be seeing much of me after this, eh? I'm simply too pretty to--" She stopped laughing near instantly as the man of her dread had arrived, her face turning sour from its innocent smile. Quickly righting herself, Muijh looked him straight in the eyes. "Greetings. Who might you be? And before you ask, no, I am not interested, thank you."

Muijh stepped back apprehensively and eyed up the man who'd walked up to her, noting his purse-fixated eyes. She immediately thought of how lucky she was that her brother had taught her how to discern those who would steal from her. She put her money in the pocket within her blue robe before beginning her reply. "Oh, hello! Who might you be?" She asked in response, her hands behind her back in a cutesy manner to try to hide her fear. "Is there something you need?"

It had been some time since Muijh had been to the famed marine city of Limsa Lominsa. After all, it was always so confusing for her to navigate, so it was far from her favorite place to go. Nevertheless, she felt it only appropriate to revisit the layered city. She loved its people, after all, and the ones that seemed the least trustworthy were always the ones to pay more generously for her help. She had only just left the house of an injured sailor in vital need of healing hands, and was walking back to the Drowning Wench to pay for a room at the inn. As Muijh walked, she happily bounced the heavy coinpurse given to her.

Muijh's guilty pleasure is reading really awful books, or seeing god awful plays. Anything that is laughably bad, she loves it.

Kupo kupo!

Hey there! I've just sent you a request as well! I really hope we can all work out a fun story, I've been itching for some big adventures.