Reese Templeton stepped out of his office in the Jeweled Crozier, breezily humming a melody he had heard from a bard many years ago. He had forgotten the actual lyrics to the song, though he seemed to recall it involving a dragon, starving children, and some Inquisitors on Starlight's eve. It was in fact the only Ishgardian song he knew, but it had a catchy tune!
(At least he was mostly sure it was about Ishgard; the Gridanian bard performing it at the time assured him that it depicted Ishgardians with pinpoint accuracy!)
He minded not the cumbersome box that he carried in front him, propped up against his chest. The box itself was not a heavy thing, only big enough that it needed both hands and it slightly obstructed his vision. He silently offered a prayer to The Matron to help him avoid any slick ice patches during his journey to the Brume.
The Midlander had only been to the Brume once, accompanying his friend Launce on one of his charitable visits. Despite the crumbling walls and the proliferation of scaffolding that he was relatively certain would not pass a proper architectural inspection, the dark alleyways and the unseemly neighborhood did not scare off the Gridanian. The Brume denizens he had studied (with his ever-subtle side-eye) seemed mostly resigned and destitute. It was, in his view, quite unlike the anger that simmered beneath the surface in Pearl Lane or the refugee camps in Stonesthrow.
So he had no qualms about meeting his friend in the Brume, and certainly not for a Starlight charity event! Launce had shared the news of a Starlight feast being prepared for the residents of the Brume, and any and all were invited. His friend was going to show up with some gifts, and so Reese, naturally, offered to bring his own.
The Midlander’s stride slowed as he began to descend the steps leading down into the Brume. He offered one more prayer, this time to The Builder, that the creaking wood would hold him steady. But his heart was light, and so were his steps. He grinned as he pictured the children peering into his box and seeing a wide array of colorfully woven socks. Who would not want knitted socks to keep their toes warm through the winter?
That thought trailed away when a snowball came flying out of nowhere, hitting him squarely in the face. Reese could only manage an appalled sputter as he heard a distant peal of youthful laughter. He felt his cheeks starting to burn, but he told himself to maintain his composure. They were only children after all. He struggled to balance the box onto one hand while he lifted the other to wipe the snow off his face.
“Can I help you with that, mister?†a voice offered. Reese could not protest; he was precariously maintaining his hold on his gift box as it was. He sighed as he was relieved of the weight while he wiped off the ice and snow from his face with both hands.
“My gratitude, good--†the Midlander began, only to find that the one who took the box from him was an Elezen boy dressed in layered rags.
Or at least the backside of him was, as he was now sprinting away with the gift box in hand!
“You! Hold it right there!†Reese shouted after him, but as soon as he took another step to pursue, his boots came upon another snowball laid at his feet, and the Midlander went sprawling onto the stairs, one foot kicking up in what he imagined was an ungainly sort of fashion while his rump landed painfully on the ungiving wood.
More giggling and shouting could be heard from a distance; Reese dazedly spotted two youngsters running away with his Starlight offering.
By the time the Midlander reached the large tent that wafted with the mouth-watering aroma of meats and meads, he was far from the jovial man that left his office earlier that sun. His well-tailored jacket and pants had been stained with dirt, his hair was wet and dripping with melted snow, and his expression could only be described as a... ruddy sort of glum.
He barely managed a polite yet deflated, “Starlight greetings, everyone.â€
(At least he was mostly sure it was about Ishgard; the Gridanian bard performing it at the time assured him that it depicted Ishgardians with pinpoint accuracy!)
He minded not the cumbersome box that he carried in front him, propped up against his chest. The box itself was not a heavy thing, only big enough that it needed both hands and it slightly obstructed his vision. He silently offered a prayer to The Matron to help him avoid any slick ice patches during his journey to the Brume.
The Midlander had only been to the Brume once, accompanying his friend Launce on one of his charitable visits. Despite the crumbling walls and the proliferation of scaffolding that he was relatively certain would not pass a proper architectural inspection, the dark alleyways and the unseemly neighborhood did not scare off the Gridanian. The Brume denizens he had studied (with his ever-subtle side-eye) seemed mostly resigned and destitute. It was, in his view, quite unlike the anger that simmered beneath the surface in Pearl Lane or the refugee camps in Stonesthrow.
So he had no qualms about meeting his friend in the Brume, and certainly not for a Starlight charity event! Launce had shared the news of a Starlight feast being prepared for the residents of the Brume, and any and all were invited. His friend was going to show up with some gifts, and so Reese, naturally, offered to bring his own.
The Midlander’s stride slowed as he began to descend the steps leading down into the Brume. He offered one more prayer, this time to The Builder, that the creaking wood would hold him steady. But his heart was light, and so were his steps. He grinned as he pictured the children peering into his box and seeing a wide array of colorfully woven socks. Who would not want knitted socks to keep their toes warm through the winter?
That thought trailed away when a snowball came flying out of nowhere, hitting him squarely in the face. Reese could only manage an appalled sputter as he heard a distant peal of youthful laughter. He felt his cheeks starting to burn, but he told himself to maintain his composure. They were only children after all. He struggled to balance the box onto one hand while he lifted the other to wipe the snow off his face.
“Can I help you with that, mister?†a voice offered. Reese could not protest; he was precariously maintaining his hold on his gift box as it was. He sighed as he was relieved of the weight while he wiped off the ice and snow from his face with both hands.
“My gratitude, good--†the Midlander began, only to find that the one who took the box from him was an Elezen boy dressed in layered rags.
Or at least the backside of him was, as he was now sprinting away with the gift box in hand!
“You! Hold it right there!†Reese shouted after him, but as soon as he took another step to pursue, his boots came upon another snowball laid at his feet, and the Midlander went sprawling onto the stairs, one foot kicking up in what he imagined was an ungainly sort of fashion while his rump landed painfully on the ungiving wood.
More giggling and shouting could be heard from a distance; Reese dazedly spotted two youngsters running away with his Starlight offering.
By the time the Midlander reached the large tent that wafted with the mouth-watering aroma of meats and meads, he was far from the jovial man that left his office earlier that sun. His well-tailored jacket and pants had been stained with dirt, his hair was wet and dripping with melted snow, and his expression could only be described as a... ruddy sort of glum.
He barely managed a polite yet deflated, “Starlight greetings, everyone.â€