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Reformation of the Damned [Semi-Open]

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It had been some time since Muijh had been to the famed marine city of Limsa Lominsa. After all, it was always so confusing for her to navigate, so it was far from her favorite place to go. Nevertheless, she felt it only appropriate to revisit the layered city. She loved its people, after all, and the ones that seemed the least trustworthy were always the ones to pay more generously for her help. She had only just left the house of an injured sailor in vital need of healing hands, and was walking back to the Drowning Wench to pay for a room at the inn. As Muijh walked, she happily bounced the heavy coinpurse given to her.

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Kiht’to yawned and stretched. After several hours out on the streets, people-watching was starting to bore him. His stomach growled and he sighed, anybody would think that with the amount of people out and about on a warm, sunny day like this he would at least have a few gil to his name by now but the people of Limsa Lominsa kept their belongings close to their person.


He slid his hands back into his pockets and propped himself back against the stone wall behind him, catching the steely look of suspicion from a passing Maelstrom officer. He smiled and waved to the officer, who, flustered, immediately averted their gaze. He smirked, sure that the man probably had some passing recollection of him but ultimately couldn’t place him, it had been a long while since he had last been in Limsa.


He yawned again, eyes heavy, the sounds of the city slowly being muffled out by the pleasantly warm sea breeze.




Kiht’to’s ears perked up at the unmistakable sound of coins rattling against each other. A coin purse he deduced and a rather full one at that. Now alert, he began to scan the immediate area, eventually glimpsing the back of a young Miqo’te girl with deep purple hair heading in the direction the Drowning Wench, bouncing what seemed to be a small bag up and down in her hand.


He pushed away from the wall and sauntered towards her, eyes fixed on the purse.


“Hey there,” he smiled, fangs showing.

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Muijh stepped back apprehensively and eyed up the man who'd walked up to her, noting his purse-fixated eyes. She immediately thought of how lucky she was that her brother had taught her how to discern those who would steal from her. She put her money in the pocket within her blue robe before beginning her reply.


"Oh, hello! Who might you be?" She asked in response, her hands behind her back in a cutesy manner to try to hide her fear. "Is there something you need?"

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“You could say that,” the smile fell off of Kiht’to’s lips as he watched the purse disappear into her robe. His stomach rumbled again as if in protest.


If he was going to eat tonight he’d need to force the matter. He weighed his options, of which he figured he had two: take the purse by force there and then, the riskiest and frankly most stupid plan, or try to lure her away from the eye of the public.


He knew Limsa like the back of his hand, there were plenty of dark and less frequented places to take her. Maybe he could lead her down a stairwell or perhaps the blind spot on the decks outside the Wench. Or maybe he could... He felt the weight of the staff strapped to his back and instantly brushed that thought aside.


“Are...” He began, looking straight into her eyes. He hesitated. Another Keeper? They were rare in these parts. What was she doing here seemingly all by herself? He frowned, “...you alone?”

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Her legs shook at his words, and the rest of her body followed suit soon. Mayhap it was simply her imagination, but he seemed to be approaching ever closer. She needed an excuse to be rid of him, and fast.


"M... My brother, actually, is waiting for me back at the Wench... I-I really oughtta be going. If you require my healing arts, you may come to my room and I will treat you there." She gripped her robe tightly as she took a step back without breaking eye contact.

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“Wait,” Kiht’to began to extend a hand towards her, hoping to stop her from leaving but thought better of it. He let his arm drop back to his side. He was no longer interested in the coin purse, his hunger forgotten.


He hadn’t had much contact with other Keepers or even his family since he had left the Shroud over ten years ago. Maybe this was a chance to rebuild the old bridges he had burnt.


He mused for a moment and slipped his arm out of his coat to reveal an open knife wound on his shoulder, wincing as the rough fabric became unstuck from his skin. It wasn’t healing well on it’s own and he was sure it would become infected if he left it any longer.


“Can you heal this?”

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She gasped as his wound was revealed. She reached over to touch the hole lightly, but wincing back right before she came into contact with it. Muijh closed her eyes and gave a smile when she reopened them. She turned her body away from him without breaking her gaze and began walking back on her path to the Wench.


"Of course. Tell me your name, and I will do for you what I can."

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Kiht’to flinched and furrowed his brow.


“My name, huh?” He surveyed his surroundings anxiously, swiveling his ears in every direction in an attempt to glean anything suspect from the bustle and commotion of the city around them. It was too dangerous to be giving out that information around here, anybody could be lurking nearby. Hells, he was the one lurking nearby not a minute or two ago.


His expression softened when his eyes fell back upon the woman’s smile.


“Why don’t you tell me yours first?”

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He huffed, there was no way he was going to be stupid enough as to give any random stranger his name. There was a price on his head and a fairly decent sum at that.


He contemplated remaining steadfast in his refusal to part with any personal information but she had been nothing but courteous and he was starting to feel a tinge of guilt. He was going to have to come up with something.


“It’s Nebih’a...” he lied, not quick enough to think of a surname.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Well, Mr. Nebih'a, I shall need to set what equipment I have up back at my room at the Wench, so do please drop by with this note when you are ready." 


Muijh pulled out a pen and a piece of parchment and wrote down a letter addressing the clerk at the inn, then walked away after handing it to the man. It was a simple thing, only meant to keep him from being stopped by the employees of the inn. The note read as follows:


'This man is to be granted access to my quarters, number 313. He is a patient of mine. Signed, Muijh Mewrilah.'

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