A sharp pain in his head. Blood and ink spilled around the room. Tense relationships and perhaps even more tense feelings.
These were the thoughts that had pulsed through Franz's head before he passed out onto his now-ruined couch. But sleep brought no reprise. Rather, his dreams seemed to only further suffocate him.
The first dream of the night had appeared so benign in the beginning. He was sitting in a room holding a small child. Her mother resting on a bed, clearly exhausted from the day that had played out. Holding the baby had brought him such joy for some reason. But when he looked down at his arms to see the face of the child, she was gone. Panic had spread over his face. Where was she? Was she safe? How could he not have paid better attention? As he looked around, he found the child, held in the arms of her mother. But every step he took, they seemed to get further and further away. There was a feeling as if he had called out their names, but nothing came to find.
In the second dream, he was surrounded by the people who had once hired him as a mercenary. They had all looked as he'd remembered them. Nearly all of them dressed lavishly. Staring at him. Calling him scum. There was a feeling of hunger, and he noticed he was dressed in rags, standing at the streets of Ul'dah. They were throwing gil at him, but rather that catch them, the coins simply burst into flames upon hitting him. Eventually, there were some many coins he was engulfed in flames.
In the third and final dream, he saw his wife, Lydia. A warm smile on her face as he walked closer. More than anything, he simply wished to embrace her. Hug. Kiss. Know that the two of them had found each other again and that everything would be fine. But the nearer he approached, the most twisted her smile became. Mere ilms from her, he reached out a hand to feel a sharp pain in his side. The woman by him no longer looked like his wife, but instead, had taken the form of a younger girl. Blonde hair had been carefully managed, a simple, yet elegant outfit worn. In his side, he saw a dagger that she stabbed him with. "Vile cretin! How dare you think of finding happiness in these lands. All you deserve is to suffer!" A wicked smile on her face as he tried to remove the blade. But he could not. The metal burned in his hand. "Don't you dare touch things that are not yours!" The woman simply screamed louder as he gripped the blade tiger and pulled it out.
But before anything else could continue, Franz was jolted awake with a sudden thud as he fell from the couch. He awoke back in his room, a dull pain in one of his eyes still. His back to the floor, he pulled himself up to reassess the damage the room had endured. An ink bottle had be thrown and its contents had splattered over him and the couch. On the couch itself and the floor nearby, a small trail of blood led across the room and to the door. Likely, some combination of his own and Edda's. He would have to scrub the floors with bleach to remove the stains, but would be doable. Lastly, he saw the now damaged gemscope on the floor. Rather than even try to repair it, he would just replace the device with a new one. Inside a cabinet in his room, he kept a few cleaning supplies for general upkeep.
Taking out a scrubber and cleaning fluid, he began to wipe up the flooring and return it to its former color. He made no effort while cleaning the room to protect the clothing he wore. The sollerets would need to be carefully cleaned and shined, the gloves could be easily replaced, and the tabbard was ruined. A shame really. It had been his favorite. Likely, even if he got the blood and ink out, the material would never be the same. He carefully took it off and folded it as neatly as possible, trying to hide as much of the stain as possible. With the room looking as if the fight had never taken place, Franz made sure he had properly reapplied the glamor and makes his way to one of the baths in the Still Shore. As he filled one of the tubs with near-scalding water and entered, he watched as the once-clear water because murky with blood and ink. An entire bell may have passed by the time he'd emerged, free of ink, redressed in clean clothes and wounds dressed.
But it was over now. He'd cleaned the room and would replace the damage furniture, he'd cleaned himself, and nobody would ever recognize the injuries. After the nightmare of a dream he'd had before the night had ended and now thoroughly exhausted, he promptly fell asleep on his bed as if it were any other night. There was no more worry of having to deal with a certain midlander -girl- with a temper.
edit: Oh god...notified of a beautiful typo. "held in the arms of her money" -> "held in the arms of her mother"
These were the thoughts that had pulsed through Franz's head before he passed out onto his now-ruined couch. But sleep brought no reprise. Rather, his dreams seemed to only further suffocate him.
The first dream of the night had appeared so benign in the beginning. He was sitting in a room holding a small child. Her mother resting on a bed, clearly exhausted from the day that had played out. Holding the baby had brought him such joy for some reason. But when he looked down at his arms to see the face of the child, she was gone. Panic had spread over his face. Where was she? Was she safe? How could he not have paid better attention? As he looked around, he found the child, held in the arms of her mother. But every step he took, they seemed to get further and further away. There was a feeling as if he had called out their names, but nothing came to find.
In the second dream, he was surrounded by the people who had once hired him as a mercenary. They had all looked as he'd remembered them. Nearly all of them dressed lavishly. Staring at him. Calling him scum. There was a feeling of hunger, and he noticed he was dressed in rags, standing at the streets of Ul'dah. They were throwing gil at him, but rather that catch them, the coins simply burst into flames upon hitting him. Eventually, there were some many coins he was engulfed in flames.
In the third and final dream, he saw his wife, Lydia. A warm smile on her face as he walked closer. More than anything, he simply wished to embrace her. Hug. Kiss. Know that the two of them had found each other again and that everything would be fine. But the nearer he approached, the most twisted her smile became. Mere ilms from her, he reached out a hand to feel a sharp pain in his side. The woman by him no longer looked like his wife, but instead, had taken the form of a younger girl. Blonde hair had been carefully managed, a simple, yet elegant outfit worn. In his side, he saw a dagger that she stabbed him with. "Vile cretin! How dare you think of finding happiness in these lands. All you deserve is to suffer!" A wicked smile on her face as he tried to remove the blade. But he could not. The metal burned in his hand. "Don't you dare touch things that are not yours!" The woman simply screamed louder as he gripped the blade tiger and pulled it out.
But before anything else could continue, Franz was jolted awake with a sudden thud as he fell from the couch. He awoke back in his room, a dull pain in one of his eyes still. His back to the floor, he pulled himself up to reassess the damage the room had endured. An ink bottle had be thrown and its contents had splattered over him and the couch. On the couch itself and the floor nearby, a small trail of blood led across the room and to the door. Likely, some combination of his own and Edda's. He would have to scrub the floors with bleach to remove the stains, but would be doable. Lastly, he saw the now damaged gemscope on the floor. Rather than even try to repair it, he would just replace the device with a new one. Inside a cabinet in his room, he kept a few cleaning supplies for general upkeep.
Taking out a scrubber and cleaning fluid, he began to wipe up the flooring and return it to its former color. He made no effort while cleaning the room to protect the clothing he wore. The sollerets would need to be carefully cleaned and shined, the gloves could be easily replaced, and the tabbard was ruined. A shame really. It had been his favorite. Likely, even if he got the blood and ink out, the material would never be the same. He carefully took it off and folded it as neatly as possible, trying to hide as much of the stain as possible. With the room looking as if the fight had never taken place, Franz made sure he had properly reapplied the glamor and makes his way to one of the baths in the Still Shore. As he filled one of the tubs with near-scalding water and entered, he watched as the once-clear water because murky with blood and ink. An entire bell may have passed by the time he'd emerged, free of ink, redressed in clean clothes and wounds dressed.
But it was over now. He'd cleaned the room and would replace the damage furniture, he'd cleaned himself, and nobody would ever recognize the injuries. After the nightmare of a dream he'd had before the night had ended and now thoroughly exhausted, he promptly fell asleep on his bed as if it were any other night. There was no more worry of having to deal with a certain midlander -girl- with a temper.
edit: Oh god...notified of a beautiful typo. "held in the arms of her money" -> "held in the arms of her mother"
