Pema's Journal

[Pema]

A candle flickers in the dimly lit room and the steady 'drop drop drop'  of the still gently bubbling in the corner keep the diminutive Miqo'te at the desk company in the dark, wind-riddled night.  Pema had been compelled to seek out a room with one of the village's well-to-do's to work.  It had turned out to be a blessing.  The Hyur's study happened to have a large, thick oak table perfect for setting up her equipment.  The fabrication of antidotes can be a tricky and time consuming process.  Thankfully she would work undisturbed, for once.

 

Pema ponders to herself as she remember the last time she made this remedy.  It was almost a decade ago.  Sticky, the snurble that spent years at her side, made a little family for himself one year; half of whom had carelessly eaten a deadly and obscure poison while foraging near a mine.  That year was the second time she encountered the herb known as 'Rumjum', the first being only a few summers after she was first on her own; which made it particularly challenging and memorable.  At least, that's what she had always called it.  It might seem strange, but this innocuous looking fungi, which when dried simply looks like bits of coal, could produce some of the most curious effects on the mind and body she had ever seen.  She began to write in a neat fist, 

 

 

 

A hand moves up and adjusts her monocle as she reads over her words.  This was certainly not how she thought the day would go.  Honestly, her mind had been on a rather unpleasant event of late when she had arrived at the village in La Noscea.  Things were pretty straight forward until Nara asked her to check on some of the farmers who had fallen ill rather suddenly.  Then 'straight forward' went right out the window and smashed into a thousand bits on the cobble stones down below.  Even familiar with this poison she had made quite the error due to the cocktail of other herbs which had been alchemicaly processed to distill the volatile oils into a deadly elixir.  Well, she made that error until she processed a sample of contaminated water from the village well and discovered her old nemesis hiding in plain sight.  

 

This discovery led, thankfully, to a break-through which is currently undergoing a process of distillation in the corner of the dark but cozy room.  Soon the antidote would be ready and it would be time to see what worked on countless snurbles and other critters would work on the people as well.  She might have left that little detail out - about this being the first trials on people.  She had never been unwise enough to think Rumjum was food, she had only watched the creatures suffer; which of course, drove her to discover the antidote.  And though doubt did not 'plague' her, she certainly was hoping that it also wouldn't come back to haunt her later.  

 

Until now she hadn't been around people long enough to generally be called upon for this sort of thing.  Indeed, few adventurers had even learned her name.  Even less had learned something useful about her - and by useful I mean something practical, like this.  That sort of thing takes getting to know someone.  

 

Her quill starts to skid across the page as her thoughts wander.  She drops it quickly so as to not mar the page any more than she already had,

 

"Buggery," she sighs, "Well, I suppose it's time to get back to it anyhow.  Almost time to add the mistletoe extract..."

 

[Pema]

 

The air is crisp this evening in Ul'dah.  Snowflakes swirl slowly, sliding over the slippery steps of the city making for such a soothing sight.  The cold wasn't bothering the little Miqo'te who spent most of her time growing up amid the whims of the weather in the various nooks and crevices of Eorzea.  In fact, she was meditating, allowing herself to become one with the brisk breeze that dances through the stone-cobbled corridors; until of course, a gravely voice broke the silence like a toppling vase past it's breaking point.

 

"My lady, my employer wishes a word with you; won't you please come with me?"

 

She opens her right eye slowly.  Then her left.  Her first impression of the Elezen was confusing, at best.  He was tall with dusky flesh and hair with a rich-looking silk suit; clearly custom tailored to his trim figure.  Even his shoes were polished to perfection.  His hair, however, looked like some he'd gotten into a scuffle with a small critter who bore a deep and abiding disdain for neatness.  Tufts of violet-gray hair stuck out every which way and there was a rather large section on the right side of his head that stuck straight out a good three inches.  A small jagged scar cuts across his right check, making him look most unbalanced.  Yet his piercing blue eyes managed to enthrall her gaze for a short time as she tried to get a read on this 'gentleman',

 

"I'm sorry, and you are?"

 

"My name is Mourechaux.  My employer wishes a word with you; won't you please come with me?"

 

Pema pauses and gives him an incredulous look, 

 

"Yes, I got that part.  However, I'm not in the habit of walking off with strange men just because they tell me I should.  You're going to have to do better than that," 

 

The Elezen remains cool and calm and neatly folds his hands behind his back while quickly making a visual reassessment of the short statured female; whom he was twice the height of.  He regards her carefully, looking her over slowly before speaking once more,

 

"You are the Lady Pema Jawantal are you not?" he inquires curiously.

 

"I am." she replies slowly.

 

"Then I would ask that you would come with me.  My employer, the 'benevolent' Zozoje Zoje desires an audience with you.  Your services are needed."

 

"Why didn't you say something sooner!" she exclaims loudly, flailing her arms as her tail bristles, "What if someone died because I didn't stick around for this nonsense?!"

 

Finally the Mourechaux's face contorts into an expression, this one just so happened to be confusion, 

 

"Died?" he asks over a long, drawn out moment, clearly processing the word as it is said.

 

Pema stops her current flailings and matches the Elezen's expression of confusion,

 

"Then what in the bloody hell are you talking about!?" she exclaims, clearly exasperated.

 

Not knowing that else to do the Elezen points at the embroidery hoop hanging off her belt in a desperate attempt to explain himself better,

 

"Your other skills.  Please, if you'll just come with me, I assure you all will be made clear.  My employer wishes a wor--"

 

"Yes! Yes!  I got it!  Your employer wishes a word with me!" she throws her hands up, exasperated, then gestures to him to lead the way, "By all means!... And keep your voice down."

 

"You know... actually, I need to go home and get some things first... I'll just... catch up with you later!" she turns on her toes and starts to head away from the the Elezen quickly.

 

"Then I shall accompany you,"  Mourechaux catches her arm tightly without missing a beat and holds onto the little Miqo'te tightly.

 

Pema sighs heavily and gives up finally, slouching her shoulders as her ears droop against her head,

 

"Ugh... I'm going to have to move my camp again..." she groans as the Elezen keeps a tight rein on her tiny form. 

 

((To be Continued))

[Pema]

 

There was a rather loud scuffle going on outside of the large oaken doors that preface the way into Zozoje Zoje's office; Pema, a notably short Miqo'te was struggling against Mourechaux, Zozoje's somewhat simple man-servant.

 

"Get... your hands... off of me!" she growls unhappily as she struggles against his tight grip.

 

"No," he says firmly, "You'll try to run away again."

 

"Not when we're right outside of the bloody...door," she strains against his grip again.

 

The excessively tall, in Pema's opinion, Duskwight yanks her unceremoniously through the large heavy doors and drags her up to a large mahogany desk that resides near the perfect middle of the room.  As she reaches up to right her top hat which was dislodged during the struggle she gets a look around the spacious office.  It was rather posh, all told, lovely thick tomes line the tri-surfaced work space which was littered with pricey accouterments - ranging from luscious feather quills to large polished gems held in golden-pronged stands.  

 

 

Pema tugs her perfectly-tailored jacket down sharply and adjusts her monocle as she looks about the room searching for whom she was there to meet.  The sharp slam of the double doors behind her tells her that she's alone once more as Mourechaux has finally vacated the area.  At least, she thought she was alone.

 

"Gloooorious day isn't it?" a scratchy voice echos across the cobbled floor, bouncing the sound all around the stone room.  

 

Pema bristles slightly, she could smell Lalafell, but she couldn't see him.

 

"I am Zozoje Zoje.  You can address me as 'my lord,' 

 

The Miqo'te spins around and looks down at the Lalafell who was standing directly behind her now.  He was short, even for one of the little people, with stark black hair and gentle grey streaks that give him a distinguished air.  His eyes are light and bright and almost glow as you look into his pools of sight,

 

"I will not..." she trails off as she looks him over, her brow furrowing deeply.  He was dressed in a lovely, but mismatched set of clothing.  In fact, as she looked him over she began to realize just why his clothing didn't seem quite right.  It wasn't.  Nothing he was wearing had been made for him.  His blouse was one she made for Susukuna, his pants for Fifili, and the list went on.  She sighs softly.

 

"I see you've noticed my acquisitions!" Zozoje strikes a flamboyant pose, waggling his eyebrows as he shows himself off, "You have no idea how hard it was go get these and track you down.. but it has been and will be worth every cent!"

 

"What is it, exactly, that you want?"

 

Zozoje trots around to one of the sides of the desk and, with the help of a stool, climbs aloft whistles loudly.  Suddenly, several people of all races and creeds pile into the room.  Zozoje turns to face Pema with a bright smile on his face and his arms held high,

 

"Make them beautiful!" he crows happily.

 

 

 

((To be continued...))

[Pema]

 

"Ow!" Pema quickly stuck her thumb into her mouth to soothe the throbbing flesh.  She'd only been half paying attention to her work and had pricked her finger for the third time in just a couple of moments. 

 

Zozoje Zoje saunters up and places a tiny hand on her shoulder, 

 

"Daaaah-ling, I know we discussed red... but I was thinking more of a burgundy," he purrs playfully while flourishing his free hand.

 

Hanging her head in shame, the scholarly Miqo'te sighs heavily,

 

"I'm so sorry, Zozo... my mind just doesn't seem to be where it should."

 

"Ooooo and here I thought you worked better in the outdoors!" he twitters, promptly placing himself in her lap, crossing his legs and looking up at her with rapt attention, "What's his name?"

 

"I... what...?" she looks down at him confused, "No, no, you misunderstand.  I was thinking about a new member of the Order, you see, and it's because I said I would meet them on their return but I'm sure he'll be hungry and..." 

 

She trails off, lost in thought again.  Zozoje watches this for a few moments before poking her sharply in the ribs,

 

"Oi!  What's his name?!" he asks with greater urgency this time.

 

 

Pema ponders the question for a moment before answering; reaching up to tug gently on her right ear as she does, 

 

"No..." she says slowly as she shakes her head, "You're going to do something strange..."

 

Her right brow sinks decidedly and she purses her lips with mild displeasure, 

 

"I don't know what it is you're planning.  But you're scheming.  I can feel it."

 

"Perish the thought..." 

 

((To be continued...))

[Pema]

 

Absolutely livid.  Those are the only words that could possibly describe how Pema was feeling as she sat looking out at the bright, salty waves breaking upon the soft, sandy shores near Cost del Sol.  The salt air and brackish waves brought her no comfort today, nor did the ineffably beautiful sunset.  Nothing brought solace, peace was not to be found.  She had tried to meditate, but she couldn't shake sense of betrayal and pain that had taken root in her heart.

 

She should have seen it coming from a mile away that they would be so insensitive as to place Mara in the same group as herself.  In a sorely misguided attempt to encourage them to become closer and get along, Nara and Kin had managed to do the exact opposite.  

 

 

"Absolutely useless liability and nothing but, is what she is," she fumes, pacing around the soft shell-laden sands.

 

Mara, the one Kin likes to call 'Lady Seer' was headed for a quick grave with Pema.  Her actions had finally managed to snap the peaceful insides of the sage-like Miqo'te.  The day before the Order had been on an important operation; confirming and eliminating the final stores of the processed poison which had plagued several villages in La Noscea and threatened to spread far beyond the reaches of the three city-states.  Mara had been privy to none of the events leading up to this coup, of course, in Pema's experience it was unlikely that it would have changed any of her actions if she had.  As soon as they embarked upon their mission, things went all wrong and all of those things began with Mara.  

 

As she continues to roll the thoughts over and over in her head, her frustration and anger roiling and boiling as she works herself up into a right tizzy.  

 

Mara had been instructed to distract the guard.  As a young, ditzy female this should have been quite the easy task.  Ho, ho, not so!  In fact, Mara had botched things so spectacularly when sent to be a distraction that it put the lives of all those present and the success of the operation in jeopardy.

 

 

"Well at least I didn't tell them the name of the Order," she mocks Mara's voice in an unflattering fashion, 

 

 

"You bloody well should have!  It's the only way you could have possibly made things worse after you just walked up to the bloke and said 'Oh hey.  I'm Mara and I'll be distracting you today while my companions sneak inside your ship, search the stores and then blow it up!" she mocks again before beginning to pace angrily once more, clasping her hands behind her back.

 

 

It had only gone down here from there.  Hard to think that it could get worse than someone walking up and telling a guard everything before walking away to tell everyone what you've just done; yet it was managed.  Right in the middle of one of the holds, Mara decides to insult Pema's honor.  Pema, having no title, no name, no money and no great influence with anyone, relies solely on her word and her work.  Mara saying, in the middle of an operation, that she had no confidence in Pema doing the right thing for the group and keeping them her safe had been the final straw for her.  Any who have worked with Pema know full well just how selfless she is, in fact, in combat there has never been a question for anyone what Pema will do.  Her feelings are immaterial to the task and the welfare of the group.  

 

 

"How dare she question me and my honor!  Especially when she has none!  She, who does nothing for anyone but herself or to feed her own desperate need for attention!" she growls dangerously again, 

 

"She has never done anything to support the group in a helpful or caring manner, she only causes pain and brings us closer to death because of her lack of care!  She should be one of the people we protect, not one of those doing the protecting!  But no one cares what I think..."

 

She looks up at the sky, her fact contorted in anger and disgust, remembering every meeting with Mara.  There had not been a single meeting where she had shown herself to be a productive member of the group or a member of the group at all.  Pema no longer cares about whatever, clearly non-existant, quality that made Nara and Kin keep her around.  Intentions mean nothing, Pema judges others on the only thing she can, their actions.  She sneers and clenches her fists so tightly that she draws blood from her palms where her nails meet her skin and makes a decision,

 

"The next time I'm stuck with her for an important operation... she dies.  For the good of the tribe, there is no other way, lest she cause all our deaths."

 

 

((To be continued...))