Perhaps in another life, Finono Fino could have been somebody. Born the beloved daughter of a pair of poorly-matched Plainsfolk, Finono's life was uprooted when her parents could no longer pretend their sham of a marriage was working. Finono's mother, a dear woman who was willing to sacrifice what little she had for her child, was forced to let her womanizing husband take away her only daughter when she realized that his wealth might provide a better life for her. The girl had started bright and there was hope that she might take on with a guild proper, learning a true trade and carving a life for herself on her wits and her intelligence.
This was not that life.
Finono's father came into a tidy sum of money in some questionable ways. He lied about it to his wife, of course, claiming a relative had bequeathed the considerable cash on his deathbed. It was true, technically, if said deathbed was the velvety table of a certain Garlean-flavored card game. Pretty pictures gave way to piles of gil and the thought of more gave spark to adolescent fantasies. Truth be told he didn't even want the girl alongside of him for the ride, but Limsa was a land of opportunity for people like him, and how hard could it be to take care of a child? He thought he'd continue to make money by cheating for it and that would be that. He'd spoil her rotten without needing to lift a finger to raise her. That was the plan, but the tricks that are learned by bumpkins are the sort of things true artisans of the craft learn while but children, and Finono's father found out in the literal sense just how cut throat Limsa Lominsa could be.
Finono Fino was one of dozens, of hundreds, of perhaps thousands. The unwanted children of a country with no means or care to provide for them. Fino was smart but she was a child, so when the hyur who had rented Fino's father a dusty, poorly maintained room found her crying and home alone, he did the only thing he thought he could do with a bawling, lonely girl. He sold her off to the highest bidder. Young girl like that fetches a high price, higher than most slum lords would make in a lifetime. The decision was easy, and Finono was forced to grow up far faster than she might've, had things turned out differently.
Wounds of the soul variety don't take to magic healing, not that most in her shoes could afford it. There was an easier way, though. Men with a particular habit oftentimes carry others, and the drugs were a means to an end. Limsa took a lot out of the girl, a woman by her fifteenth year, but it didn't curb her mind too much. She usually just stole what she could while her suitors were asleep, but she made the mistake of being bold and paid for it. It wasn't exactly slavery, no, but when your options are replacing what you stole or paying for it with your life, it isn't freedom either. That's how Finono got her start with an alchemy kit; It was a far cry from the clean and polished tools she might've learned from back in the Jewel but it got the job done. She took quickly to learning how to make and boil and create, and she found herself drawn into the world of cooking terrible things. Didn't hurt that once her keeper got himself eaten by wolves that lurked La Noscea's belly the new owner of the facilities took a shine to her.
Finono had finished the last batch of the new brand. She'd been cooking it for a moon, maybe, special dose by the request of the boss man and his lady. They treated her nice and let her sample the products so she wasn't much one to complain. She tried to tell them once that the toxin contents were too high, that even your most wrung out junkie wouldn't be able to handle something so concentrated, but they told her it didn't matter.
"Just don't touch it yourself. You're much too vital to all of this, my dear."
Not that she needed to be told twice. Naldust was a trip if you touched it to bare skin without even altering it, and Finono made sure to wear two sets of gloves whenever she got asked to brew the new stuff. The last bit was the largest batch she'd been asked for yet, and she knew better than to ask questions. She lingered before stepping out of her "laboratory," the funny little room that might've once been a kitchen or a dining room where she was set up. She had no interest in something that would likely kill her but the night was young and there was plenty of time to enjoy it. She grabbed a small pouch of Brittleback and a vial of Bouncer and double checked all of her kit so she wouldn't burn anything else down. Then she was bouncing out of the door, head in the clouds despite being relatively sober.
She looked up for a moment, letting the door float open behind her on weary hinges. "Oi, who da 'ells are you?" Her eyes widened at the giant Highlander standing in front of her, then darted towards the door.
The highlander peered at the doorway first, craning his neck and looking into the room Finono had just exited. She thought the guy was an idiot for how long he took to notice she was standing under him and goggled at him as he just smiled back.
"Aldes Amrich. I'm here to meet with your boss."
Finono shook her head. People didn't just meet with her boss, even she knew that. Something made her pause, though, and to her relief Baxley was coming down the hallway the next instant.
"Let's go."
Finono felt safer when Baxley was around. The highlander led the new fop down the hallway, towards the room where Mr. Johnes sometimes did meet with guests.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" The hyur asked and then looked at Finono with a lecherous grin. Disgusted, the lalafell spoke up in her own defense.
"Ain't worth my time, bucko. Won' be seein' ya' 'gain anyway." The lalafell turned with walked away, happy to see Basilisk at the door. She knew better than to call him that where he could hear her and it was obvious why.
"I'm off for the night, Ohswyn."
"Right, lovey. Gon' be a straight wave once the helm arrives. By the pick of it, might be shortlin' his ivories out for th' scraps and sup by orange."
Finono smiled serenely and blinked. She never had a head for the Cant, but she picked up just enough to follow up on it.
"Well, sure, but he's gonna feed lotsa' fish, ain't he?"
This was not that life.
Finono's father came into a tidy sum of money in some questionable ways. He lied about it to his wife, of course, claiming a relative had bequeathed the considerable cash on his deathbed. It was true, technically, if said deathbed was the velvety table of a certain Garlean-flavored card game. Pretty pictures gave way to piles of gil and the thought of more gave spark to adolescent fantasies. Truth be told he didn't even want the girl alongside of him for the ride, but Limsa was a land of opportunity for people like him, and how hard could it be to take care of a child? He thought he'd continue to make money by cheating for it and that would be that. He'd spoil her rotten without needing to lift a finger to raise her. That was the plan, but the tricks that are learned by bumpkins are the sort of things true artisans of the craft learn while but children, and Finono's father found out in the literal sense just how cut throat Limsa Lominsa could be.
Finono Fino was one of dozens, of hundreds, of perhaps thousands. The unwanted children of a country with no means or care to provide for them. Fino was smart but she was a child, so when the hyur who had rented Fino's father a dusty, poorly maintained room found her crying and home alone, he did the only thing he thought he could do with a bawling, lonely girl. He sold her off to the highest bidder. Young girl like that fetches a high price, higher than most slum lords would make in a lifetime. The decision was easy, and Finono was forced to grow up far faster than she might've, had things turned out differently.
Wounds of the soul variety don't take to magic healing, not that most in her shoes could afford it. There was an easier way, though. Men with a particular habit oftentimes carry others, and the drugs were a means to an end. Limsa took a lot out of the girl, a woman by her fifteenth year, but it didn't curb her mind too much. She usually just stole what she could while her suitors were asleep, but she made the mistake of being bold and paid for it. It wasn't exactly slavery, no, but when your options are replacing what you stole or paying for it with your life, it isn't freedom either. That's how Finono got her start with an alchemy kit; It was a far cry from the clean and polished tools she might've learned from back in the Jewel but it got the job done. She took quickly to learning how to make and boil and create, and she found herself drawn into the world of cooking terrible things. Didn't hurt that once her keeper got himself eaten by wolves that lurked La Noscea's belly the new owner of the facilities took a shine to her.
Finono had finished the last batch of the new brand. She'd been cooking it for a moon, maybe, special dose by the request of the boss man and his lady. They treated her nice and let her sample the products so she wasn't much one to complain. She tried to tell them once that the toxin contents were too high, that even your most wrung out junkie wouldn't be able to handle something so concentrated, but they told her it didn't matter.
"Just don't touch it yourself. You're much too vital to all of this, my dear."
Not that she needed to be told twice. Naldust was a trip if you touched it to bare skin without even altering it, and Finono made sure to wear two sets of gloves whenever she got asked to brew the new stuff. The last bit was the largest batch she'd been asked for yet, and she knew better than to ask questions. She lingered before stepping out of her "laboratory," the funny little room that might've once been a kitchen or a dining room where she was set up. She had no interest in something that would likely kill her but the night was young and there was plenty of time to enjoy it. She grabbed a small pouch of Brittleback and a vial of Bouncer and double checked all of her kit so she wouldn't burn anything else down. Then she was bouncing out of the door, head in the clouds despite being relatively sober.
She looked up for a moment, letting the door float open behind her on weary hinges. "Oi, who da 'ells are you?" Her eyes widened at the giant Highlander standing in front of her, then darted towards the door.
The highlander peered at the doorway first, craning his neck and looking into the room Finono had just exited. She thought the guy was an idiot for how long he took to notice she was standing under him and goggled at him as he just smiled back.
"Aldes Amrich. I'm here to meet with your boss."
Finono shook her head. People didn't just meet with her boss, even she knew that. Something made her pause, though, and to her relief Baxley was coming down the hallway the next instant.
"Let's go."
Finono felt safer when Baxley was around. The highlander led the new fop down the hallway, towards the room where Mr. Johnes sometimes did meet with guests.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" The hyur asked and then looked at Finono with a lecherous grin. Disgusted, the lalafell spoke up in her own defense.
"Ain't worth my time, bucko. Won' be seein' ya' 'gain anyway." The lalafell turned with walked away, happy to see Basilisk at the door. She knew better than to call him that where he could hear her and it was obvious why.
"I'm off for the night, Ohswyn."
"Right, lovey. Gon' be a straight wave once the helm arrives. By the pick of it, might be shortlin' his ivories out for th' scraps and sup by orange."
Finono smiled serenely and blinked. She never had a head for the Cant, but she picked up just enough to follow up on it.
"Well, sure, but he's gonna feed lotsa' fish, ain't he?"
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
