((Hello, I'm new 'round these parts and just wanted a place to share little F'shra's (Saucy's) adventures.))
A Small Memory
I was thirteen. It was my first time in Limsa Lominsa, and I knew then it was the city I was meant to be in. I went up and down the winding ramps of pure white rock more times than I could count; across every bridge and into every shop and stall and guild I could find. I sat by the docks and waited for my mother, and spoke to the fisherman and the sailors there, and swallowed all I could like the very sea they earned their keep from.
My mother too made her money with the swell of the tide, but it was in things that had wriggled out of Llymlaen’s net and into our own, and she came to the city to trade seashells, glass, and other mostly useless but pretty little trinkets. She would point at people and tell me their names, what they did, and who would buy from her. She was good at picking dreamy women from the crowd, and tourists, and naïve folk who thought the worth of a mudcrab shell was a gil in the hand, rather than the kelp and foam it had been pulled from.
She called me F’shra in the city and it was unfamiliar to me, and amusing to those with lines in the water. “You named him Fish?†A smile and a laugh. My cheeks burned hot under the sun.
A Small Memory
I was thirteen. It was my first time in Limsa Lominsa, and I knew then it was the city I was meant to be in. I went up and down the winding ramps of pure white rock more times than I could count; across every bridge and into every shop and stall and guild I could find. I sat by the docks and waited for my mother, and spoke to the fisherman and the sailors there, and swallowed all I could like the very sea they earned their keep from.
My mother too made her money with the swell of the tide, but it was in things that had wriggled out of Llymlaen’s net and into our own, and she came to the city to trade seashells, glass, and other mostly useless but pretty little trinkets. She would point at people and tell me their names, what they did, and who would buy from her. She was good at picking dreamy women from the crowd, and tourists, and naïve folk who thought the worth of a mudcrab shell was a gil in the hand, rather than the kelp and foam it had been pulled from.
She called me F’shra in the city and it was unfamiliar to me, and amusing to those with lines in the water. “You named him Fish?†A smile and a laugh. My cheeks burned hot under the sun.
