The door closed behind her, set back into place by the weight of the body that remained leaning against it. Delial allowed herself to slump just slightly, sighing loud enough that she could have been heard had anyone been waiting immediately outside. Someone suggested it as an exercise before, that she might clear her mind and relax her spirit after a particularly trying event. It rarely ever worked.
It took them far too long to fish for anyone who held even a passing interest with speaking with them, and then that was swiftly sabotaged by a lunatic with an enormous sword. They were left with three dead bodies but upon reflection Delial began to wish for the fourth: the last of their contacts had gotten away maimed and terrified, and she would be surprised if he had not been telling his peers and others in the Brume to be wary of a group of foreigners with gil and questions moving with a dark skinned highlander woman. Given what she had seen of the populace so far, it would not be difficult for anyone to make the connection to her. Even Kiryuu had been met with open suspicion, and no doubt a lalafell with a white beret and a large axe would be difficult to miss despite his stature.
Delial counted one, two, three, and pushed off to stride across the room. At Kiryuu's insistence they had shared the room, albeit briefly. His generosity was unnerving at times, and she could not quite figure if it was an attempt to make right the slights once inflicted by his then partner in the Sultansworn. She hardly saw him at the inn regardless: her hours were intentionally tuned to be opposite his, that she might have privacy during his waking hours and that might have his during hers. It was simpler that way and he did not complain. Nor did she complain when he moved his things out and took another room elsewhere in the Knight, citing concerns for safety. That the girl's death bothered him was plain, for Kage Kiryuu was not very good at masking his worries.
Early on she had laid claim to the armoire and it was there that she stopped. Her wardrobe shrunk considerably since departing Limsa Lominsa but she still had a few things worth keeping safe. The heavy wood creaked open at her touch and she withdrew something nearly as tall as her, carefully wrapped in burlap and twine. She had hardly touched it since Windsoul and his friends helped her retrieve it from a cursed burrow deep beneath the Shroud. That it was even there to begin with was a travesty and insult, one that she wondered if Hrathi even knew.
The pitiful tome she had relied on for most of her time in Eorzea laid on the bed beside the ones Kiryuu brought with him: studies on aether and the nature of fire, plucked from the shelves of the Ossuary. She gave her prize a few quick tugs and twists, letting its wrappings fall to the floor as she turned to cross it again, and laid that down as well: a black staff of uncertain make, smooth like steel but light as wood. She remembered how it seemed to hum in the Witch's hands, how the black coils and curves seemed to shine in oily shades of emerald and heliotrope.
The girl's neck snapped like a twig in the warrior's hands. Surely she knew she had slim chance of walking away and she put up a surprising fight when it became apparent that the ruse was not quite good enough. Her strikes and blows combined with Delial's spells hardly even made the man flinch. Killing the man would have been the better option than letting him run free but that was clearly beyond their capabilities. It was only a matter of time, Delial was certain, before he ceased to be amused by them. Sooner or later, his blade would be at their throats.
It was her birthright, her key to a power she had not even the decency to devote herself to in her youth when still she had teachers willing to put up with her delinquency. "There is fire in your veins," the Witch was always fond of reminding her though she rolled her eyes and dismissed her wisdom. The staff laid there before her dull and silent, the orb that crowned holding a particular shade of cold grey better suited to tombstones and crypts.
Useless.
It took them far too long to fish for anyone who held even a passing interest with speaking with them, and then that was swiftly sabotaged by a lunatic with an enormous sword. They were left with three dead bodies but upon reflection Delial began to wish for the fourth: the last of their contacts had gotten away maimed and terrified, and she would be surprised if he had not been telling his peers and others in the Brume to be wary of a group of foreigners with gil and questions moving with a dark skinned highlander woman. Given what she had seen of the populace so far, it would not be difficult for anyone to make the connection to her. Even Kiryuu had been met with open suspicion, and no doubt a lalafell with a white beret and a large axe would be difficult to miss despite his stature.
Delial counted one, two, three, and pushed off to stride across the room. At Kiryuu's insistence they had shared the room, albeit briefly. His generosity was unnerving at times, and she could not quite figure if it was an attempt to make right the slights once inflicted by his then partner in the Sultansworn. She hardly saw him at the inn regardless: her hours were intentionally tuned to be opposite his, that she might have privacy during his waking hours and that might have his during hers. It was simpler that way and he did not complain. Nor did she complain when he moved his things out and took another room elsewhere in the Knight, citing concerns for safety. That the girl's death bothered him was plain, for Kage Kiryuu was not very good at masking his worries.
Early on she had laid claim to the armoire and it was there that she stopped. Her wardrobe shrunk considerably since departing Limsa Lominsa but she still had a few things worth keeping safe. The heavy wood creaked open at her touch and she withdrew something nearly as tall as her, carefully wrapped in burlap and twine. She had hardly touched it since Windsoul and his friends helped her retrieve it from a cursed burrow deep beneath the Shroud. That it was even there to begin with was a travesty and insult, one that she wondered if Hrathi even knew.
The pitiful tome she had relied on for most of her time in Eorzea laid on the bed beside the ones Kiryuu brought with him: studies on aether and the nature of fire, plucked from the shelves of the Ossuary. She gave her prize a few quick tugs and twists, letting its wrappings fall to the floor as she turned to cross it again, and laid that down as well: a black staff of uncertain make, smooth like steel but light as wood. She remembered how it seemed to hum in the Witch's hands, how the black coils and curves seemed to shine in oily shades of emerald and heliotrope.
The girl's neck snapped like a twig in the warrior's hands. Surely she knew she had slim chance of walking away and she put up a surprising fight when it became apparent that the ruse was not quite good enough. Her strikes and blows combined with Delial's spells hardly even made the man flinch. Killing the man would have been the better option than letting him run free but that was clearly beyond their capabilities. It was only a matter of time, Delial was certain, before he ceased to be amused by them. Sooner or later, his blade would be at their throats.
It was her birthright, her key to a power she had not even the decency to devote herself to in her youth when still she had teachers willing to put up with her delinquency. "There is fire in your veins," the Witch was always fond of reminding her though she rolled her eyes and dismissed her wisdom. The staff laid there before her dull and silent, the orb that crowned holding a particular shade of cold grey better suited to tombstones and crypts.
Useless.
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