To the owners of the establishment in Wineport, it must have seemed odd to see the well-dressed hyuran man pay in advance for an extravagant meal and their finest wine, only to get in an argument with the person they presumed he’d invited. Why, the table had only been set with wine and appetizer when he’d left stormed off as well, the table nearly untouched. More peculiar was the bag of -something- left on the table. The shorter lalafellin server never had a chance to run after the man, seeing him at the gate of the settlement by the time he’d nearly tripped over his apron to the exit. “S-sir! *huff* Your belongings!†Defeatedly, he returned to the restaurant, scribbling some details onto a little parchment to be tied to the bag, should the man return. “Let’s see Alko Kulko….he was umm...really tall! Red hair. Fancy braids and some circlet thingy and a beard. Oh! And green-ish eyes. Think I overheard him say he was a soldier too.†Alko tied the small parchment with ‘customer details’ written on it, leaving it in a small box under the counter. “Next time he comes in, I’ll be sure to return it!†The lalafell found himself back at the table to clear away the untouched plates. “Shame they hadn’t stayed. Missed one of the best entrees, they did.†Alko Kulko hated intruding, but he was glad for his curiosity during times such as thing. He was certain the man would come again to collect what he’d forgotten. Alko Kulko had never seen such lonely eyes on a man before. The ones that said he’d lost nearly everything. “M-maybe if I save my wages for a little while, I can afford to have some sweets made for the visiting adventurers.†It never occurred to Alko Kulko that the bag was filled with money, and that neither of the people would likely return to collect it.
As he’d strode out of the restaurant and next the gate leaving Wineport, Franz found himself an emotional wreck. It was usually times such as these he considered attempting to sneak into the nearest castrum. There was even one just slightly northeast of his location. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognize him this time. Or perhaps he could feign ignorance of even being Garlean. Simply feed the desperate soldiers a glint of hope. Something to reignite the war again. Watch the land burn, since the common Eorzean didn’t want saving.Likely, they would just shoot at him again, assuming he was some fearlessly heroic adventurer. Not a preferred pastime. Instead, he followed the path south, into the greener La Noscean landscape.
Walking for some undetermined amount of time, Franz happened upon an Imperial Juggernaut. Likely having crashed years in the past, the former battle airship has rusted away, broken. Its internal parts likely salvaged ages before for anything of use. It was more than the Garlean was equipped to handle. Wading through the water, he climbed into the deteriorating control room before falling onto the floor in a fit of pained emotion. The last few weeks had been too much for the man. The pain from waking up in the cottage, being unable to move. THe amnesia that had followed and the pain it had caused others. Seeing and speaking to the people at the pilgrimage, only to realize he would not be returning with them. Pushing people away for their “safetyâ€.
Franz was not the person he wanted to be. Nor was he the person anyone else thought he was. The pain from the dagger wounds was still there, despite there being no mark. The memory of it etched into his being. The tangled aether that had made him “himself†previously had been reorganized. Used to knit the body he had. Restructured into something to resemble the flesh that was left behind. Whatever separation between the person he had been and the person who had been imprinted was gone. The aether expended instead to make limbs. Organs. A functional body. And what good was it? The strain it took to merely walk. to move. Go through the motions of conversation. Of course a smile was forced out when he spoke to people. Of course he would pretend it didn’t hurt. What good was making the other party worry for his well-being, lest he fall again? He was no more a husk than the remains of the ship he was sobbing in. One fist. Then the other, hit against the rusted floor of the fallen ship. At least the pain meant he’d understood how to connect the nerves correctly. The former soldier, former mercenary, former friend(?) simply lay in the ruined heap, He was no better than the abandoned trash the Empire had left to rot. And he knew as much as well. The hope that he might return to his family seemed impossible. What family could he protect if he could not even hold his own in a fistfight with a cocky Highlander? What people could he rely on if he couldn’t even handle holding a conversation? The arguments with Edda always led to a fault of his. He’d noticed the way it affected her when he couldn’t recall who she was. The way she’d built up another wall to hide behind. The way she continued to act to avoid being hurt again.
An odd rustling startled Franz into silence. From amidst a hole in the hull of the ship, was a moogle. Reaching into its bag, it pulled out a letter. “Delivery, kupo. You were hard to find.†Franz blinked a few times. Perhaps he had finally lost what little sanity was left. In a hoarse voice, “e-er...thank you?†And with that, the creature had dropped the parchment and flown off. A small paper, carefully written out. The words inscribed with feeling.
What could Jancis want? Could it have not come at a worse time for him? Franz picked himself up and dusted off his clothes. He could afford to stop by in Ul’dah for a change, perhaps. Then he would be off. It would still be rude to make her wait, regardless of circumstances.
As he’d strode out of the restaurant and next the gate leaving Wineport, Franz found himself an emotional wreck. It was usually times such as these he considered attempting to sneak into the nearest castrum. There was even one just slightly northeast of his location. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognize him this time. Or perhaps he could feign ignorance of even being Garlean. Simply feed the desperate soldiers a glint of hope. Something to reignite the war again. Watch the land burn, since the common Eorzean didn’t want saving.Likely, they would just shoot at him again, assuming he was some fearlessly heroic adventurer. Not a preferred pastime. Instead, he followed the path south, into the greener La Noscean landscape.
Walking for some undetermined amount of time, Franz happened upon an Imperial Juggernaut. Likely having crashed years in the past, the former battle airship has rusted away, broken. Its internal parts likely salvaged ages before for anything of use. It was more than the Garlean was equipped to handle. Wading through the water, he climbed into the deteriorating control room before falling onto the floor in a fit of pained emotion. The last few weeks had been too much for the man. The pain from waking up in the cottage, being unable to move. THe amnesia that had followed and the pain it had caused others. Seeing and speaking to the people at the pilgrimage, only to realize he would not be returning with them. Pushing people away for their “safetyâ€.
Franz was not the person he wanted to be. Nor was he the person anyone else thought he was. The pain from the dagger wounds was still there, despite there being no mark. The memory of it etched into his being. The tangled aether that had made him “himself†previously had been reorganized. Used to knit the body he had. Restructured into something to resemble the flesh that was left behind. Whatever separation between the person he had been and the person who had been imprinted was gone. The aether expended instead to make limbs. Organs. A functional body. And what good was it? The strain it took to merely walk. to move. Go through the motions of conversation. Of course a smile was forced out when he spoke to people. Of course he would pretend it didn’t hurt. What good was making the other party worry for his well-being, lest he fall again? He was no more a husk than the remains of the ship he was sobbing in. One fist. Then the other, hit against the rusted floor of the fallen ship. At least the pain meant he’d understood how to connect the nerves correctly. The former soldier, former mercenary, former friend(?) simply lay in the ruined heap, He was no better than the abandoned trash the Empire had left to rot. And he knew as much as well. The hope that he might return to his family seemed impossible. What family could he protect if he could not even hold his own in a fistfight with a cocky Highlander? What people could he rely on if he couldn’t even handle holding a conversation? The arguments with Edda always led to a fault of his. He’d noticed the way it affected her when he couldn’t recall who she was. The way she’d built up another wall to hide behind. The way she continued to act to avoid being hurt again.
An odd rustling startled Franz into silence. From amidst a hole in the hull of the ship, was a moogle. Reaching into its bag, it pulled out a letter. “Delivery, kupo. You were hard to find.†Franz blinked a few times. Perhaps he had finally lost what little sanity was left. In a hoarse voice, “e-er...thank you?†And with that, the creature had dropped the parchment and flown off. A small paper, carefully written out. The words inscribed with feeling.
Quote:I have done as you asked, yet still I feel it is not enough. I have news and supplies for you. Shall wait at Nald’s Reflection in hope you receive this note.
What could Jancis want? Could it have not come at a worse time for him? Franz picked himself up and dusted off his clothes. He could afford to stop by in Ul’dah for a change, perhaps. Then he would be off. It would still be rude to make her wait, regardless of circumstances.