The refreshing of his cup of tea was greatly appreciated, the heated drink helping to chase away the chill of the air around him. Gogonji had spent quite a bit of time in Coerthas, albeit less so after the assault on his cabin hideaway, but the chill always seemed to find a way to seep its way uncomfortably into his bones. However, the dour Lalafell had little choice on where to hole up now that the Bobbing Cork had been compromised. He would have to make do with this cup of tea, provided by this little hole-in-the-wall tavern beneath the shadow of the Observatorium.
Still, the one thing the tea couldn't chase away was the gnawing feeling of dread and worry deep within his gut. That Miqo'te in the stylish hat had known much. Too much. There had been flaws in her story she tried to spin to him to steal into his good graces, most notably the idea that he had forged the pair of cactaur earrings - the pair he had split when he had left home, leaving one in the care of his younger brother as a memento. Still, the fact that she had known that he had done such a thing was a troubling bit of knowledge.
How did she know that? And he had heard her mention of how he taught little Chachanji about a bit of healing after an accident. No one should have known about that. No one. And yet, it still spilled from her lips so carefree before Annunu had interceded on his behalf.
He paused mid-sip as a thought occurred to him: had... had the Garleans been watching over his family for that long? The Gegenjis had certainly cemented themselves as providers of high-quality weaponry to the people of Garlemald, as could be seen by the number of them who came by for swords and spears and armor during the occupation. Yet, to go so far as to spy on the family itself? Were they really that fearful - that paranoid - of a single family of arms dealers?
Or had they planned that far ahead to raze Doma? Gogonji's blood boiled at the thought as it crossed his mind. Stringing along a subjugated people, using them for their labor and resources just to turn around an discard them into the flames when they were no longer needed? Could Garlemald truly be that inhuman? His grip tightened on the handle of his teacup, the twitches of rage transferred into the erratic sloshing of the tea within.
However the Garleans came about it, they knew much - far too much. Were they watching him even now? Gogonji's violet eyes flitted covertly about the small tavern room. Every other patron was suspicious - a potential Garlean in disguise that had tailed him from his flight from Fallgourd. How many had been in here when he had arrived... and how many had arrived after?
Why were they here? Were they just grabbing a bite or a drink? Coming off a shift within the Observatorium or about to go on one? Or were they here, watching him, ready to relay any tidbit of information to the Garleans... to the enemy? Not enough information, not nearly enough information.
Gogonji couldn't risk it. His plans were too far along now to have them disrupted by a leak in information. He'd have to move up the deadline, he'd have to. Lest Garlemald gather even more information on him and his plot. He would've liked to have the cell's numbers swelled a bit more, but he could still make do with what he had.
He'd have to.
First, though, he'd have to escape this chilly tavern, filled with possible Garlean spies. The green-haired Lalafell set his teacup down as gently and nonchalantly as he could, reaching into a pocket for his coin purse. Everything had to look normal, they couldn't know that he knew. He set a few gil coins down on the tabletop, payment and tip for the unfinished drink.
Should he stay and finish it off, to help maintain the illusion? No no, there was no time. Every second wasted was a second that Garlemald could possibly learn more of his plans. They had to be put into motion before then. Gogonji hopped out of his chair and swaggered his way to the door, practically exuding a forced air of indifference.
His eyes, though, they were trained on all the other patrons. How many turned their attentions onto him as he pushed open the door into the chilly Coerthas night? How many had never left him? How many feigned their indifference, acting as if they weren't watching him? Oh but he knew, he knew their games.
This was his knowledge, and he'd make good use of it.
He almost didn't feel the snow as he trudged out on foot into the Highlands. He couldn't get a Chocobo, the Chocobokeep might tip them off. He'd wait until he was well outside the gates before calling for Annelace, she'd get him where he needed to go. One of his few allies in a sea of suspicion, a heart as pure as her white feathers. He'd had her since coming to Eorzea, she wouldn't betray him.
... Would she?
He shook his head. No no no, she was just a bird. And he always checked for any sort of tracer whenever he groomed her, anyway - he wouldn't let anyone else do it, lest they try and sneak one on. This was just another part of the Garlean's plan - trying to turn him against his own mount, against what few allies he had. He wouldn't let them.
As if to cement his beliefs, Annelace was quick to heed his call, settling down expectantly into the snow to make mounting easier for her rider. Something Gogonji was quick to do, ready to be away from this icy land of traitors and spies. He glanced around suspiciously into the snowy night around him - eyes straining for any suspicious movement. Hints of those who sought to tail him.
But where would he go? They were everywhere. He had to get to his Commanders, had to tell them to gather their forces and be ready to move. He'd held off on passing out linkshells, lest they fall into the hands of the enemy. Now, though, now that caution made this all the more difficult. Gogonji not only had to find a place where he could safely contact them, he needed somewhere for them to meet.
Revenant's Toll.
The answer sung out to the Doman like the alluring voice of the Siren. People of all sorts crowded there, adventurers and refugees and other riffraff. He and his could lose themselves amongst them and he could set the final steps of his plan into motion. That merchant woman had just opened a cafe above where she sold her knock-off equipment not too long ago, hadn't she? They could meet there, it made perfect sense.
And, while he was there, he could pick up his last Rouser - the one for his newly obtained Monk Soul Stone. Then he'd have it, all the power he needed to bring to bear to make Garlemald regret what they did. For oppressing a people they had planned from the start to set to the flame. In fact, once he set things in motion, the Lalafell found himself vaguely hoping that they would get some inkling of his plans - the writing on the wall discovered too late to make a difference. Far, far too late.
As Annelace streaked through the evening, a speck of white lost against an endless sea of white, Gogonji withdrew paper and pen from her saddlebags. He had letters to write, letters to send. By Moogle, not by the hands of Man. He couldn't trust these messages in the hands of Men. Not at this critical juncture.
All the while, wrapped up in his sealed off room in his mind, Gogonji could feel as if something was banging on the door. Something vaguely familiar, something he had dealt with before. A tiny fist pounding against his asylum, his shelter. He might even be able to make out a voice that sought to pierce through and reach him...
<Go-nii! Go-nii!>
No, no time to think about it. No time to dwell on it. The Garlean shadows were grasping at his coattails. He had to act before they found purchase and ruined everything he had worked for.
<Go-nii, let me in!>
So much to write.
<Go-nii, wake up!>
So much to do.
<Go-nii, don't do this!>
So much to set into motion.
<Go-nii, please!>
So little time...
~