There was an intensity in his look that made Edda squirm. To see him roost so easily was unsettling. He was quite unlike the heroes in the adventure novels she had read as a young girl, and she felt somewhat betrayed in her expectations of seeing a hardened frontiersman make camp in the brutal, masculine ways she had read about. Building a fire, hunting game, cutting open a wild antelope and burrowing inside it for warmth - whether or not such feats were greatly exaggerated, the lackadaisical display of the Au Ra left her both wondering and disappointed. He clearly had no mind to commandeer her tent, but would he be warm enough? Perhaps this climate was more agreeable to him, yet it was no secret that body temperature dropped during rest, and no warrior could fight a death of cold. Edda frowned. It would be embarrassing for him to die in such a way, more so for him than anything, though whether or not he intended to stay there for the rest of the night was unknown.
The woman peered at him through the darkening night, meeting his inquisitive gaze. The question he posed was far more personal than she had expected, and found it difficult to answer straight away. The dim light of his green eyes stood out against his dark skin, and Edda suddenly felt very nervous. Eager to escape the sensation, she stood suddenly, and approached him with a few hesitant steps. She held the two vials in front of her in both hands, before squatting down and placing one on the ground within arms reach. She looked him in the eye and did not speak in a wordless offering.Â
To demonstrate that it was not poison, Edda uncorked and drank the contents of her small bottle in one go. It had a sour, burning taste, like her father's brandy mixed with old milk. She grimaced, but it did not take long for the aftertaste to fade. The effects were immediate; a warm, tingling sensation spread from her chest down to her fingertips and toes, warding her body against the cold from the inside out. She had little knowledge of alchemy, but enough to know the potion was more relief than an aid. Its effects were not unwelcome however - the liquid heat that ran through her felt like a small luxury in the harsh wilderness.
"I will not be redeeming your services right away - if I do at all," Edda began. She slipped the empty vial into a satchel at her hip and walked over to Gullinbursti. "If I have need of you in the future, I will seek you out. There is a single, solitary person I would have... removed, before they can do more harm. I doubt there will be much of a fight, however." She giggled softly at the thought, before her expression darkened substantially. Though she spoke with aplomb, there was a wavering in her tone, as if she was sure, but saddened.
Edda retrieved the unlit lantern from her chocobo's saddle, before turning around to face the Xaela. "Perhaps," she began, with a curious spark in her eye. "You should tell me your name, before you ask any more questions." This was, of course, assuming his people had names, a practice that did not extend to every tribe of Auri, as she understood it. It was an innocuous question, at least in Eorzea, and she hoped the presumption that the solemn man had any reason to give his name would not offend him.
Heading back to stand in front of her tent, she gave the man what she hoped was an encouraging smile, before lighting the lantern with a small flame from her fingertip. More a parlour trick than actual thaumaturgy, the flame settled in the lantern, and was enough to illuminate the outcropping so that they would not have to speak in total darkness. She set the lantern down and hesitated, before casting the man a hard glance. Was he really going to stay like that? Would he truly be warm enough? If he made no motion to move after his questioning was done, she would have to offer him something then. Until that time, there was little reason to, and so she resumed her original seating at the mouth of her tent.
"For what it is worth," she said as she placed a hand on her chest. "You can call me Edda, if it suits you."
The woman peered at him through the darkening night, meeting his inquisitive gaze. The question he posed was far more personal than she had expected, and found it difficult to answer straight away. The dim light of his green eyes stood out against his dark skin, and Edda suddenly felt very nervous. Eager to escape the sensation, she stood suddenly, and approached him with a few hesitant steps. She held the two vials in front of her in both hands, before squatting down and placing one on the ground within arms reach. She looked him in the eye and did not speak in a wordless offering.Â
To demonstrate that it was not poison, Edda uncorked and drank the contents of her small bottle in one go. It had a sour, burning taste, like her father's brandy mixed with old milk. She grimaced, but it did not take long for the aftertaste to fade. The effects were immediate; a warm, tingling sensation spread from her chest down to her fingertips and toes, warding her body against the cold from the inside out. She had little knowledge of alchemy, but enough to know the potion was more relief than an aid. Its effects were not unwelcome however - the liquid heat that ran through her felt like a small luxury in the harsh wilderness.
"I will not be redeeming your services right away - if I do at all," Edda began. She slipped the empty vial into a satchel at her hip and walked over to Gullinbursti. "If I have need of you in the future, I will seek you out. There is a single, solitary person I would have... removed, before they can do more harm. I doubt there will be much of a fight, however." She giggled softly at the thought, before her expression darkened substantially. Though she spoke with aplomb, there was a wavering in her tone, as if she was sure, but saddened.
Edda retrieved the unlit lantern from her chocobo's saddle, before turning around to face the Xaela. "Perhaps," she began, with a curious spark in her eye. "You should tell me your name, before you ask any more questions." This was, of course, assuming his people had names, a practice that did not extend to every tribe of Auri, as she understood it. It was an innocuous question, at least in Eorzea, and she hoped the presumption that the solemn man had any reason to give his name would not offend him.
Heading back to stand in front of her tent, she gave the man what she hoped was an encouraging smile, before lighting the lantern with a small flame from her fingertip. More a parlour trick than actual thaumaturgy, the flame settled in the lantern, and was enough to illuminate the outcropping so that they would not have to speak in total darkness. She set the lantern down and hesitated, before casting the man a hard glance. Was he really going to stay like that? Would he truly be warm enough? If he made no motion to move after his questioning was done, she would have to offer him something then. Until that time, there was little reason to, and so she resumed her original seating at the mouth of her tent.
"For what it is worth," she said as she placed a hand on her chest. "You can call me Edda, if it suits you."
