Water sloshed over the side of the tub and Xanadu shifted to reach for another letter. Â The past week had been quite adventurous, and in the process of so much violence and dramatic action she'd gotten behind on her paperwork. Â Normally bathing time was kept for personal relaxation, reflection and a general unwinding, but she was now forced to bring work along with her.
This letter was a politely worded anti-invitation. Â It was one of the rare etiquettes of Ishgardian society for which she was one of the few regular recipients.
Miss Mol,
I must regretfully inform you that your presence is not required at the ball Saturday night. Â The chef has gone ill and cannot possibly feed all of those members of society which might wish to attend. Â In this time of dire need we have chosen to allow other culinarians to support the war effort rather than take away from the front the food that fuels our warriors in their righteous cause. Â It is with this in mind that we have also spared you the social necessity of attending in deference to your position that you too may continue your holy work unfettered by the responsibilities of society.
Sincerely,
Lady Lorianne Montesque
Xan scoffed and held the letter over a nearby candle.  She was in the habit of burning all of her mail.  "She is still bitter about the finger, isn't she?  It was eventually reattached.  What a petty woman to hold such a grudge."
Honestly, Xanadu was rarely invited to any parties, and was quite often, as was the case with Lady Montesque's, avidly encouraged not to attend. Â Sometimes she envied those in The Brume who didn't have to worry about the venom and spite of the higher born, but never for long. Â Being starving poor did not incline their mood much towards tolerance, just changed the target of their hatred.
To the upper crust Xanadu was an abomination, to the lower classes she was an oppressor. Â There really wasn't much of anyone in Ishgard who particularly cared for her company even in her own house.
"Carmine," she called, slouching deeper into the water. Â In a moment a young Hyur servant with broad shoulders and a slightly crooked nose appeared in the doorway. Â Xanadu didn't bother looking up, "Bring me paper and pen, and a dangerous looking spider, would you? Â In a jar, please, you know how I am about bugs."
"A letter for Lady Montesque, Miss?"
Xanadu smiled and glanced up at him, "You are ever an observant man, Carmine. Â Whatever would I do without you?"
"Walk around nude and be unable to find a thing for yourself, miss." Â He bowed his head.
"Ah, but that would be a scandal, wouldn't it? Â Perhaps I should, one day; allow them to count my scales to sate their curiosity."
"A dignified response, miss."
"Quite. Â Go on then, Carmine." Â He exited once more, and Xanadu reached for the next letter. Â This one informed her that the stolen Ishgardian steel had been returned, and that at least some portion of the stolen Ul'Dahn goods that had been discovered in the pirate's airship was on its way back to the merchant princes of the desert.
That, at least, was settled, though she was no closer to her goals now than she had been when she'd started on this foul adventure. Â The next letter was a bill for damages to an airship, Halone's Teats. Â She sighed and tossed it aside before slipping lower into the water. Â Well, there went her portion of the take. Â With this she'd be lucky to break even.
"Carmine!" she shouted. Â "Pray, do catch the spider and don't go buying one. Â I fear that finances may be tighter than I'd like and we can't go about wasting our money on designer arachnids."
This letter was a politely worded anti-invitation. Â It was one of the rare etiquettes of Ishgardian society for which she was one of the few regular recipients.
Miss Mol,
I must regretfully inform you that your presence is not required at the ball Saturday night. Â The chef has gone ill and cannot possibly feed all of those members of society which might wish to attend. Â In this time of dire need we have chosen to allow other culinarians to support the war effort rather than take away from the front the food that fuels our warriors in their righteous cause. Â It is with this in mind that we have also spared you the social necessity of attending in deference to your position that you too may continue your holy work unfettered by the responsibilities of society.
Sincerely,
Lady Lorianne Montesque
Xan scoffed and held the letter over a nearby candle.  She was in the habit of burning all of her mail.  "She is still bitter about the finger, isn't she?  It was eventually reattached.  What a petty woman to hold such a grudge."
Honestly, Xanadu was rarely invited to any parties, and was quite often, as was the case with Lady Montesque's, avidly encouraged not to attend. Â Sometimes she envied those in The Brume who didn't have to worry about the venom and spite of the higher born, but never for long. Â Being starving poor did not incline their mood much towards tolerance, just changed the target of their hatred.
To the upper crust Xanadu was an abomination, to the lower classes she was an oppressor. Â There really wasn't much of anyone in Ishgard who particularly cared for her company even in her own house.
"Carmine," she called, slouching deeper into the water. Â In a moment a young Hyur servant with broad shoulders and a slightly crooked nose appeared in the doorway. Â Xanadu didn't bother looking up, "Bring me paper and pen, and a dangerous looking spider, would you? Â In a jar, please, you know how I am about bugs."
"A letter for Lady Montesque, Miss?"
Xanadu smiled and glanced up at him, "You are ever an observant man, Carmine. Â Whatever would I do without you?"
"Walk around nude and be unable to find a thing for yourself, miss." Â He bowed his head.
"Ah, but that would be a scandal, wouldn't it? Â Perhaps I should, one day; allow them to count my scales to sate their curiosity."
"A dignified response, miss."
"Quite. Â Go on then, Carmine." Â He exited once more, and Xanadu reached for the next letter. Â This one informed her that the stolen Ishgardian steel had been returned, and that at least some portion of the stolen Ul'Dahn goods that had been discovered in the pirate's airship was on its way back to the merchant princes of the desert.
That, at least, was settled, though she was no closer to her goals now than she had been when she'd started on this foul adventure. Â The next letter was a bill for damages to an airship, Halone's Teats. Â She sighed and tossed it aside before slipping lower into the water. Â Well, there went her portion of the take. Â With this she'd be lucky to break even.
"Carmine!" she shouted. Â "Pray, do catch the spider and don't go buying one. Â I fear that finances may be tighter than I'd like and we can't go about wasting our money on designer arachnids."
