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Ver'svesh's logs - Aftermath of RP's (always open to more!)

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Ver'svesh arrived back at the Refugee camp. Her return seemed to illicit a number of questionable gazes from the other refugees. Many had a look of earnest envy, that seemed to suggest a sort of jealousy of what she came in wearing. 

Brown clothes, simple - but clean, and made of a quality hempen. It was soft, and seemed to fit her form well - loosely covering her and showing little to no skin. The new worker's clothes set her apart for the moment from the other begger's of the town. 


"Did you hit it big?" one would ask, of which she would shake her head. She looked around somewhat nervously, looking down at the pile of dirty clothes in her hands. This outfit that she carried was of the same vein as the others of town - a leather vest, cloth undershirt, and long baggy pants. A single tooth for a necklace. 


She seemed to have a sad look on her face as she kept her view down, but once more she shook her head, leaning down, she placed the bag of clothes on the ground. The rattle of the gil would attract just a little more attention to her.


RAising her hands in front of her, she would grasp hold of nothing in front of her, one hand higher than the other. She would made small, sweeping gestures with her hands, and then go down to her hands and knees. 


She places her hand over the floor, making it flat and making circular motions above the ground. and then she tapped at the clothes on her body, as well as the bag of gil to her side. The others seemed to give a nod of understanding - work for gil is not unusual, but it can be hard to find a willing employer. 


"I understand. Then, I believe you have something for us?" One man with dark tanned skin would ask. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared her down, and his gaze danced down to the bag of gil atop the clothes. 


Standing up, Ver'svesh picked up the clothes and gil. Reaching in, she pulls out a majority of the coins. She walks forward to one man, in particular. 


This man had the look of a leader. His hair was kept short-cut yet still bushy, his clothes just as dilapidated as anyone elses. His eyes had a piercing sort of look to them, crimson irises and steady gaze. His eyes moved to her hands as he watched her offer up the money. He gives a simple sigh. 


"We'll make sure it's put to good use." the man would stay lightly, "At the least, the kids will not have to go hungry." He paused, looking over her clothes. "Consider selling those to have more to offer to the others. You do not have a need for them." 




Ver'svesh seemed to give a sad look as she looked down at the clothes. Her head dipped down, her eyes going soft as she looked at the fabrics. A memory plays in her mind as she is forced to shake her head, ever so faintly. Unable to accept such a lot, she denies it. 


"No?" The man would say, knitting his brows at her. "Don't be selfish. -All- of the members of this place need money for food, not just a fancy set of clothes!" He'd demand, but Ver'svesh seemed to be hesitant even then. 


She shook her head again. She patted at the clothes, and motioned to herself. Instead, she reached for the bag, and handed it over. 


There is a moment's silence as the man eyes the money. He narrows his eyes, "You know what this means, right?" He'd ask, glaring at her. "Should you choose to just give up this gil instead of the clothes, we wont' be using it to feed you tonight. You understand?" He'd say, leaning forward a fair bit. "You will go hungry so that others can eat, for your greed." 


She seemed to understand. She nodded her head. This was an accepted inevitability of her greed - to not be allowed to eat. Those who do not contribute in such communities do not eat. That is a simple fact of life. She picked her clothes back up, walking away. 




Later that night, she would already be wearing her own normal clothes. She laid awake within her mat on the floor, an exhausted pillow seemed to offer little protection from the ground. The dirtied clothes seemed to be heavier than her other set of clothes that she had recently recieved - weighing down her shoulders even as she laid out on the ground. 


She glances to the left. The clothes he had recieved from the Pathfinders - more accurately, as a gift from Laproa Bell, for her hard work, it was, in its own way, a treasure. She closed her eyes, remembering it all too well. 


'Consider it a bonus for the hard work.' The kindness shown would not soon be forgotten. And she could not well just throw away something that was given specifically for it.

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The long day was at an end. The familiar bedroll on the ground seemed to call to Ver as she walked towards it. Her arms were a bit slump, and she felt fatigued. But even through this exhaustion, one could see there was a small wag of her scaled tail. The slim limb occassionally tapped the ground behind her as it moved in an excited manner.


The day had been fruitful. The request started by the man - Artorias Zyat - To get a necklace, with her name engraved on it, had yielded a good day to her. With part of the gil he had gifted her, she had met with another kind person. A woman named J'inarah Marad. The woman had guided her, and helped her, and now - the anticipation of the coming days flowed through her. 


She sat on the bedroll, turning her body and laying out flat on it. Her hands moved up towards her chest, slipping into the gap provided by the vest. She pulled out a sheet of parchment. 


'Requested - 

One sky-Azure embedded choker. 

Name Engraved, visible

Black Steel


Paid in full.


Two signatures at the bottom, and the red ink of the seal that bled through the page showed its authenticity. She looked at it, wondering what sort of design the world of the Goldsmith's would bring. Their designs, beautiful and elegant, simple or complex. Brilliant gems. 


'You deserve something nice' made her smile weakly. She blushed a little, and turned her head. Her horn gave a light bump on the ground as she rested her head only semi-sidelong, and she pulled the page in closer to her heart.


A choker to call her own. A beautiful gemstone affixed upon it. And should she ever need it - her name etched out so she could quickly convey her name. The will of two amazing people, coming together in one. She nuzzled the back of her head into the pillow, filled with cheap feathers of local fauna and unwanted wools. Much akin to the outfit she was given, it gave her a warm feeling. 


To her, each treasure was a part of what could only be called a Hoard. Items from people she considered dear and important in her heart.

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  • 4 weeks later...

It wouldn't of been long. After another night at the Fated Inn, she once more had decided to return here. To the little camp site, with all the tents erected - to the little camp site, with that well-used fire and nearby stream for water. It was a good area, safe... just outside the gates of Ul'dah. This was home. There's a few people that come up - particularly, the younger ones, accompanied by a single adult. 


Beaming with smiles on their faces, there is a look of hope in their eyes as they look at the container. One of them missed a front buck tooth, likely from lack of care for their personal hygiene. Stained yellow teeth and dirt-ruffled hair did not, however, deter from the feeling of overwhelming and pure joy.


Ver simply reaches out. She places a hand softly on their head, ruffling their hair slightly. The boy quips quickly, "Did you get food again?" with an audible sound. Loud and enthusiastic. The parentage nearby gives a wry smile of concern as even she glances to the container. While she was more well-kept than her children, she was indeed still just as dirt-stained as the young woman was. 


Smiling, Ver lowers herself down to her knees. Sitting back and letting her legs spread out, she rests the container on her lap. She makes a motion, drawing lines on top of the container so that there were even portions all around. She silently holds it up, offering it to the young boy. 


"Make sure to evenly split it, got it!" He'd exclaim happily, taking the container. He quickly runs back to the camp, to start divvying up the food. It was a feast, after all. Best to make sure eveyone got fed as soon as possible. 


And yet, in that moment, the mother seemed to walk a bit closer. Kneeling down, she rests a hand on Ver's shoulder. There's a moment of quiet and warmth as they watch the kids running off and playing as they prepared to split it up. Ver reaches out, taking the hand of the woman in her own, and pulling it to her lap.


There is no resistance offered. Instead, it is an accepted method - of sharing information, since sign language was not wide-spread in their camp. There was a few people who knew it - like the gentlemen from the Moogle inn, and his wife knew it now, too. That was good. But around here - Sign language was not vital. And so, Ver had this method, for those she trusted or cared for. 


She lightly traces a finger within the palm of the woman, creating a silent dialogue. 


"Another offer to stay the night at a room."

The woman would softly speak the words, to give an audible nature to the very words she could not speak. Soon after, she smiles, "But you refused to bring the food back, hmn?" 

The woman looks concerned, for a moment, "Eventually, we are going to lose little Ver'svesh to the large companies. A talent with Aether will not be bound to a life of Poverty." She'd hum out. 


Ver'svesh looked back to her, making a bit of a face. The woman glanced to her as once more fingers traced in palm, "Not leaving?" She'd make a bit of a worried face, before reaching up and ruffling at hair. "We can not leave - you are right." She'd hum out softly. "Some would be left behind if we took such offers. Some would be left alone. And many would pass away. To stick together is to live." With a standing gesture, she walked away.


Ver'svesh sat there with silence for a moment, letting the white optics gaze upon the back of the woman and the distant camp. At the least, tonight, they would go to bed with full stomaches - this was good for them, and their families.

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