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The Missing Member.
It was a favorite haunt of the little blond kitty called Crate, Esquire, Purveyor and Obtainer of Discarded Goods.
The restaurant had a wonderful cook, fair service, and, when the doors were open, an amazing view of the ocean, plus the walkway leading to the front that gave the little kitty plenty of time to jump out a side door in the event he might need to make a quick exit ahead of anyone seeking his head.Â
And that's why he was here now.
He was seated at the far side of a table opposite the great double doors of the establishment's entrance. Before him was the ruined remains of a cooked chocobo, the bones and discard pits piled up as a grim testimony to the enduring strength of the bird's life. Currently he was gnawing on a bone with a feral growling noise as he glanced up at the walkway.
She was late as usual. Typical of a self-important woman. Really a self important person of either gender actually, Crate reflected. In the male's experience, the more important and earth-shattering people viewed themselves, the more they cast punctuality to the side. And this both fascinated and annoyed the piss out of the littlest, blond necromancer as his teeth grated over the bone, picking any remaining meat clean.Â
His blue eyes glanced down as he sought his glass of wine.
"I was under the impression that the savage part of your ancestry was dead in you."
That voice; calm, flat, and female.
Crate pulled the bone from his mouth and spun it through his fingers as he leaned back in his chair and licked his bloody lips. He liked his meat rare after all.
Seated across from him was a black robed figure with a hood covering her face. White hair fell free and he could see the wrinkles around her lips.
"You know, if I was a witch hunter, I'd burn you as a cultist, just on -that- atrocious outfit." Crate snorted in amusement as his right hand picked up a napkin and he began to clean his face. "I mean seriously, could you get any more stereotypical as a cultist. Wait, don't answer that, I already know the answer." Crate paused and then added. "It's no by the by, in case you didn't get it."
The female said nothing as she pulled her hood back to reveal her wizened face and pale flesh. Solid black eyes starred across the table at Crate and the blond grunted at the gaze. Those eyes were dead and emotionless and it made even him somewhat uncomfortable.
"I take it back, put the hood back on. You're killing my boner."
"You are as charming as ever." the old female commented with a hint of sarcasm in her calm voice.
"Why thank you!" Crate said as he giggled. "I try. Play your cards right and maybe you'll be attractive in oh..." he eyed the wine and then scowled. "Actually, I don't think there is enough wine in Limsa for me to ever find you attractive. Which is good, cause I'd hate to accidentally have you ever make kids."
"I'll be sure to tell my sons that." the elderly woman said flatly, not rising to Crate's bait. Crate gagged on his wine as he took a sip and glanced at her.
"The idea of -you- with kids it nightmarish. They little nutcase cultists too? Wait, don't tell me, I suddenly don't care. I'm too traumatized by the fact someone screwed you."
The female folded her hands into her lap and gave an expression that she regarded Crate with a something -just- above outright disdain.
"You really are a delight, Crate. So glad I made time to enjoy your company."
"And you are proof that the Twelve have a sense of humor, Jin." the blond snorted as he put his wine glass down.
"So, before I just get up and walk away, care to tell me what this is about." the elderly woman blinked slowly, clearly growing impatient.
"Oh, does the big, mysterious cultist have a world she needs to be saving? Destroying? Ruling? See, that's the problem with you idealists. Always so busy trying to obtain your goals and change the world, that you never stop and just appreciate the beauty of life and how wonderful the world is already. One day I will finish writing my series of books on psychology and I will dedicate an entire tome to the madness and mental insecurities of the saviors and conquers and social engineers. I'm convinced you all share a mental disease of sorts."
"Crate." the woman blinked and gave a menacing smile with the corner of her lips. "I don't really have time for this. So if you would kindly get to the point, I will leave you to whore and drink yourself to death."
"Oh, like I'm -that- easy to kill." the blond male giggled impishly and then sighed as he leaned back into his chair. "Alright, alright, alright, alright alright. I got it for you."
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"With you?"
"Hell no!" Crate blurted in a chuckle and shook his head.  "I'm not stupid enough to walk around with -that- thing just radiating it's aura. No, it's safe at the moment, and not -here-. But, if you want to pick it up and give me my payment," Crate pulled out a balled up piece of paper from a pocket and tossed it at her.Â
She caught it in a pale, wrinkled hand and opened it.
"Standard graveyard." Crate explained as he took the wine bottle and paused to finish the last third of the bottle, making loud, gulping noises as he did. He slammed the bottle back onto the table. "Find that name on the tomb stone and dig. You can leave the book in the coffin for me to come back by."
"You know, despite your impish demeanor, you do continue to prove you are not worth killing just yet." the female commented casually as she slipped the paper into a pocket. Crate flashed fangs, revealing some chocobo meat stuck between them. The female recoiled in disgust. "Though sympathy killing has never been far from my mind with you."
"Well tell you what." Crate replied as he rose to his feet. "When your little cult takes over the world, you can make me the first victory sacrifice to the god or cause or tenant or whatever you people follow, how's that sound?"
"That a promise?" the female replied.
"Hehe, fuck no." Crate winked as he pulled out his big, foppish hat and placed it on his blond head and adjust the large feather in it. "Oh by the by, thanks for covering the tab. I also got the lobster and three bottles of wine in addition to the bird. None of it was cheap. Be seeing you around, Jin, I'm sure. After all, good help like me is hard to find."
The female grunted and raised a white eyebrow.
"Not if we can help it." As she answered she interlaced her fingers. iI was clear she regarded him like she would regard a service dog that could be put down whenever she pleased.
"Aw, when you say things like that, you just get me so sad. Oh well, have fun saving the world. I have a dinner party to make and unlike some people, I hate being late. Tah-tah!"
Crate gave her a deep, comic bow and then strolled off, humming to himself as he felt the sun on his face as he stepped outside. No matter who ruled the world, the sun always rose and set. Ambition was chasing after dust on the wind. And Crate loved manipulating people with it.
The Missing Member.
It was a favorite haunt of the little blond kitty called Crate, Esquire, Purveyor and Obtainer of Discarded Goods.
The restaurant had a wonderful cook, fair service, and, when the doors were open, an amazing view of the ocean, plus the walkway leading to the front that gave the little kitty plenty of time to jump out a side door in the event he might need to make a quick exit ahead of anyone seeking his head.Â
And that's why he was here now.
He was seated at the far side of a table opposite the great double doors of the establishment's entrance. Before him was the ruined remains of a cooked chocobo, the bones and discard pits piled up as a grim testimony to the enduring strength of the bird's life. Currently he was gnawing on a bone with a feral growling noise as he glanced up at the walkway.
She was late as usual. Typical of a self-important woman. Really a self important person of either gender actually, Crate reflected. In the male's experience, the more important and earth-shattering people viewed themselves, the more they cast punctuality to the side. And this both fascinated and annoyed the piss out of the littlest, blond necromancer as his teeth grated over the bone, picking any remaining meat clean.Â
His blue eyes glanced down as he sought his glass of wine.
"I was under the impression that the savage part of your ancestry was dead in you."
That voice; calm, flat, and female.
Crate pulled the bone from his mouth and spun it through his fingers as he leaned back in his chair and licked his bloody lips. He liked his meat rare after all.
Seated across from him was a black robed figure with a hood covering her face. White hair fell free and he could see the wrinkles around her lips.
"You know, if I was a witch hunter, I'd burn you as a cultist, just on -that- atrocious outfit." Crate snorted in amusement as his right hand picked up a napkin and he began to clean his face. "I mean seriously, could you get any more stereotypical as a cultist. Wait, don't answer that, I already know the answer." Crate paused and then added. "It's no by the by, in case you didn't get it."
The female said nothing as she pulled her hood back to reveal her wizened face and pale flesh. Solid black eyes starred across the table at Crate and the blond grunted at the gaze. Those eyes were dead and emotionless and it made even him somewhat uncomfortable.
"I take it back, put the hood back on. You're killing my boner."
"You are as charming as ever." the old female commented with a hint of sarcasm in her calm voice.
"Why thank you!" Crate said as he giggled. "I try. Play your cards right and maybe you'll be attractive in oh..." he eyed the wine and then scowled. "Actually, I don't think there is enough wine in Limsa for me to ever find you attractive. Which is good, cause I'd hate to accidentally have you ever make kids."
"I'll be sure to tell my sons that." the elderly woman said flatly, not rising to Crate's bait. Crate gagged on his wine as he took a sip and glanced at her.
"The idea of -you- with kids it nightmarish. They little nutcase cultists too? Wait, don't tell me, I suddenly don't care. I'm too traumatized by the fact someone screwed you."
The female folded her hands into her lap and gave an expression that she regarded Crate with a something -just- above outright disdain.
"You really are a delight, Crate. So glad I made time to enjoy your company."
"And you are proof that the Twelve have a sense of humor, Jin." the blond snorted as he put his wine glass down.
"So, before I just get up and walk away, care to tell me what this is about." the elderly woman blinked slowly, clearly growing impatient.
"Oh, does the big, mysterious cultist have a world she needs to be saving? Destroying? Ruling? See, that's the problem with you idealists. Always so busy trying to obtain your goals and change the world, that you never stop and just appreciate the beauty of life and how wonderful the world is already. One day I will finish writing my series of books on psychology and I will dedicate an entire tome to the madness and mental insecurities of the saviors and conquers and social engineers. I'm convinced you all share a mental disease of sorts."
"Crate." the woman blinked and gave a menacing smile with the corner of her lips. "I don't really have time for this. So if you would kindly get to the point, I will leave you to whore and drink yourself to death."
"Oh, like I'm -that- easy to kill." the blond male giggled impishly and then sighed as he leaned back into his chair. "Alright, alright, alright, alright alright. I got it for you."
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"With you?"
"Hell no!" Crate blurted in a chuckle and shook his head.  "I'm not stupid enough to walk around with -that- thing just radiating it's aura. No, it's safe at the moment, and not -here-. But, if you want to pick it up and give me my payment," Crate pulled out a balled up piece of paper from a pocket and tossed it at her.Â
She caught it in a pale, wrinkled hand and opened it.
"Standard graveyard." Crate explained as he took the wine bottle and paused to finish the last third of the bottle, making loud, gulping noises as he did. He slammed the bottle back onto the table. "Find that name on the tomb stone and dig. You can leave the book in the coffin for me to come back by."
"You know, despite your impish demeanor, you do continue to prove you are not worth killing just yet." the female commented casually as she slipped the paper into a pocket. Crate flashed fangs, revealing some chocobo meat stuck between them. The female recoiled in disgust. "Though sympathy killing has never been far from my mind with you."
"Well tell you what." Crate replied as he rose to his feet. "When your little cult takes over the world, you can make me the first victory sacrifice to the god or cause or tenant or whatever you people follow, how's that sound?"
"That a promise?" the female replied.
"Hehe, fuck no." Crate winked as he pulled out his big, foppish hat and placed it on his blond head and adjust the large feather in it. "Oh by the by, thanks for covering the tab. I also got the lobster and three bottles of wine in addition to the bird. None of it was cheap. Be seeing you around, Jin, I'm sure. After all, good help like me is hard to find."
The female grunted and raised a white eyebrow.
"Not if we can help it." As she answered she interlaced her fingers. iI was clear she regarded him like she would regard a service dog that could be put down whenever she pleased.
"Aw, when you say things like that, you just get me so sad. Oh well, have fun saving the world. I have a dinner party to make and unlike some people, I hate being late. Tah-tah!"
Crate gave her a deep, comic bow and then strolled off, humming to himself as he felt the sun on his face as he stepped outside. No matter who ruled the world, the sun always rose and set. Ambition was chasing after dust on the wind. And Crate loved manipulating people with it.
