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Yet Another Night in the Quicksand (Open - New Night)

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((Open to everyone. This is set to take place after the last Quicksand thread, but before the Love on the Sands Balmung Event. Open to all servers))


It was a few suns since the last time he'd had time to relax in the Quicksand. Between getting back into practice with some tailoring and smithing, Franz had been keeping himself out of trouble, and remembered some of life's simpler pleasures.


Content with life at the moment, he sauntered in to the Quicksand, taking a seat at the a nearby table and ordered a a bouillabaisse and house wine. Two things he wouldn't have normally ordered, but today felt worth it.


Leaning back in the chair a little, he looked around to see if anyone he knew were there today.

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Aya folded her hands together, leaning her hips to the side as she smiled sweetly to the Hyur gentleman.  The girl never did seem to want to stand up straight, always caught in some hip-cocked, flirtatious, slouch, with hips swaying this way or that. 


For her part, she'd seen the fellow before, but she hadn't so much as learned his name yet.


She nodded, with that bright smile of hers, "The fish stew, sir?  You would like the white with that, I presume" 

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He looked up the barmaid who seemed to never take a day off, smiling. "Yes, that would be lovely."


He realized he'd never really made any kind of small-talk with her before. Turning around on the chair, in a carefree manner, he leaned forwards against the back of the chair. "We've never really had introductions, have we? Aya, right?"


He knew her name. It would have been almost rude not to, with all the people that called out to her. He, on the other hand, started coming to the Quicksand with a hidden identity, only later to cause problems. Frankly, it was surprising he was still allowed in. Maybe his recent behavior was to thank for that.

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Aya had started to walk away, she stops as he turns to address her, looking back toward him, smiling over her shoulder, "That's right! Aya!" her smile brightened, she looked happy that anyone had heard her name.


"Oh? So I did hear right! The name's 'Franz' by the way." He wasn't lying, completely. "Franz" was the name he was using, at least for now. If it was a slow day at the Quicksand, maybe they'd actually chat for a bit. Not that he thought there was much he could provide to a conversation. Say too much, and something Ishgardian could come out. Or worse, something Garlean.

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((This is my one and only serious alt, a little OOC background, he is formerly of Ishgard with a semi-strong accent. His speech mannerisms include speaking fast short sentences, talking with his hands, always laughing to himself, and never in a poor mood. Think Rumple from Once.))


The doors facing Nald swung open as the flamboyant Elezen walking in, his arms outstretched as he released the handles of the great doors. With a laugh and a skip, the man skipped down the steps and made his way to the bar. Taking note that the stool on the end was open, and recollecting who normally sat there seemed to take great pleasure in sitting there. Flaring his coat as he sat on the stool, he then spun in the stool several times before coming to a stop facing the bar. Stopping with his fists clenched together as he read the menu on the wall, posing like he had been seriously reading it for sometime. Another thing noticeable was the clothing he wore, covered in sand and dirt, like he had walked the distance of Thanalan.


He spun in the stool again and spoke to whoever was listening, "I would like something wet, but not to dry... I am a religious man after all, make it sweet, but with a..... I don't know.... hint of deliciousness."

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Franz turned back to Aya, "pardonnez-moi", taking a deep breath and clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm....not used to seeing more than one Ishgardian in the Quicksand," as he made a coy grin at Aya.


It was obvious Aya was Ishgardian, but the man who'd entered had flaunted it. It wasn't so much the language as the mannerisms, his dress, and complete lack of any kind of noticeable defense. He thought to himself, "even Frhanz wasn't /that/ bad."


"I don't suppose you know him?" What would he do if the man walked over?

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(( Ah, sorry, I am not feeling well and forgot that Erik was using an alt. I was just trying to get Aya off scene, so just consider her to have left for now please. ))


((Feel better! These QS threads seem to have a bad habit of giving off internet-plague))


Franz let Aya know he'd relocate to the bar area, intrigued by the elezen man, letting her return to work.


Sitting down at a nearby stool, he continued the conversation in Ishgardian. "That was....quite an entrance. I believe I wasn't the only one to notice, monsieur."

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Franz let Aya know he'd relocate to the bar area, intrigued by the elezen man, letting her return to work.


Sitting down at a nearby stool, he continued the conversation in Ishgardian. "That was....quite an entrance. I believe I wasn't the only one to notice, monsieur."


The man smiled, his hands clenched, tapping his index fingers together as he spoke through his teeth, "Well... its like my father always said, make an entrance, leave an exit." The man then stood, "If no one noticed, I would fear I had lost my touch." He then bowed, "A pleasure to meet a fellow citizen of the Unholy See."

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Franz tried to push any memories of Ishgard out. /He/ didn't know the man, and certainly didn't want to know if Frhanz had known him or not. He would though, continue to make use of the vocabulary. He briefly stood up to bow to the man in return.


"Oh, I wouldn't consider myself one of Ishgard's. One could say I've left its way of life, save the language. But if you would prefer another..." Franz dangled the idea of additional conversation. "As for a drink, the house rolanberry wine may be to your taste. It has a tart sweetness. It makes a wonderful aperitif, if I do say so."


Noting he didn't know the man's name yet, "You'll have to excuse me for being rude. Might I inquire your name?"

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The elezen clapped his hands, "No.... no, not rude at all, though I am have just returned to town, and seek to surprise a relation, so a secret it must stay." He sat, spinning again in his stool, "The drink you suggested though sounds lovely, so I shall order two." He reached into his pockets to pull out gil only to gasp, as though he had just noticed his state, "I... AM.... FILTHY! Was no one going to tell me, I thought we were all friends! You there!" he said to a man walking by, trying to ignore the elezen, "I thought we would be friends forever! YOU TOLD ME I COULD ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU FOR THE TRUTH!" He then sighed and seemed to forget the other man who was now running. "Well.... is there blood in my hair?.... Nevermind. Anyway, I did not hear your name... or are you a mystery too." he said applauding with his hands.



((Just a warning to those who may not have noticed, my elezen is f---ing bananas))

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((And here I thought the elezen was just very.....Ishgardian. Who has Franz gotten himself involved with? *wide-eyed stare*))


Franz considered deceiving the man, if only for entertainment, but decided against it. He'd had enough crazy people in his life already. "I won't tell you everything, but I'm no mystery man." He reached out his hand for a shake, "The name's 'Franz'." He'd humor the elezen until someone else came in.


And unlike some other crazy people *cough* Jin'li *cough*, the man didn't seem dangerous to anyone but himself. Sitting back down in his seat, he noticed his bouillabaisse and house white wine had arrived. The aroma of the spices and seafood reminded him how bad of an idea it was to skip a meal earlier in the day.

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"What a fine name." he said with a laugh. I suppose I could tell you a name if not the name, call me Monsieur Morts-Vivants." He uncorked the wine and poured it into a glass rolling it in his hand, a moment of calm washed over him, as he whispered, a sad look in his eye, "So many names to remember." He smiled again, "I must wash up a bit, I will see you again. I plan on staying until my relation returns." He threw back the glass and stood, bowing. He walked to the inn counter, "A room.... and fresh clothing if that is possible."

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Franz awkwardly stared at the man as he walked to the innkeep, eventually refocusing on the meal before him. In the quietest of voices, he mumbled to himself in Garlean "Why the bloody hells did I even talk to him?"


With nothing else to do for the remainder of the day, he'd just lounge in the Quicksand for anything else interesting to do.


((End scene))

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  • 2 weeks later...

To him, it was just another day. One he wasn't working, again.


As Franz went to the Quicksand like usual, he checked a few of the local bulletin boards for any mercenary job listings. Of course, there wouldn't be any. While money wasn't exactly a concern, staying in Kage's house for free was a little strange, especially given the fact that they had had two new residents recently move in, with the intention of collecting rent. Why should he get any special treatment?



He'd have to discuss it with Natalie and Kage later. For now, it was mid-day, and there was nothing to do.


As he sat down at a table, ordering some lunch and an ale, he looked around the Quicksand for any people he knew, or for anyone who looked interesting enough to talk to.

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  • 4 weeks later...

(( Been a while. Jumping forward in time! *magic* ))


Coatleque sat at a table along the edge of the room, just below the rail. It was the same table, in fact, that she had been sitting at just a week prior when her... guest... (yes, he was just a dinner guest) had met his unfortunate end. Had it really only been one week now? So much had occurred since then it seemed a lifetime ago.


She had been taking double posts the past few days to keep her mind off of other things, and this was one of the few times she could sit and relax. Leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed she seemed to be angrily staring at the vacant chair to her left. A single shot of some reddish-brown colored liquid was on the table before her smelling faintly of cinnamon.


"Tae yer̃ so called good health, ye rat bastar̃d.", she muttered as she leaned forward. She downed the shot with a cringe. It burned, more-so than regular whiskey would. "Och, ye knew how tae pick 'em.", she commented before leaning back once again.

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Berrod had struck gold -- of sorts. The Highlander hobbled triumphantly from the doors of the Hourglass, clutching what looked like a large, soft bundle. 


Down comforters.


True, they were used, but yet they were so much better than the worn sheets that currently covered his own bed. He'd managed to get them at almost literally a steal of a price, given that the inn had been about to rotate out old bedding. He didn't know who had done what on it in past moons, but it looked clean and smelled clean (even cleaner than his, from which the slight scent of natural male would never leave). 


The sight of Coatleque Crofte sitting nearby triggered the usual embarrassed urge to flee, but this time he hesitated. Something seemed different about her, something that made him stop to observe for a tick more. 


Berrod nigh recoiled as she tossed back a shot better then many of the dust-babies he'd drunk with. It was a shock to him. She was always so lady like -- shouldn't she be sipping that through a straw or something? 


Nevertheless, the brawny Highlander stood with his bundle, staring a tad too long.

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((This is an alt of mine whom i'm having FAR too much fun RPing! Male Seeker! :D ))


P'azih entered though the Nald entrance, striding with clunking and confident steps as he descended the ramp towards the bar. He looked a little worse for wear, his armour caked with mud the closely resembled the colour of his sun-kissed skin.


There was that same Highlander female again, the one whom witnessed that unfortunate event. While he didn't like seeing anyone in such turmoil, it wasn't his place to pry.


He passed a large Highlander male, who was, by any accounts, gazing a little too hard over at the distressed beauty... or at least he considered her a beauty.


"You're staring..." he said as he passed the male, who was considerably larger than he was, settling just close enough to order his drink. "If you're worried... just go on over, before she catches you staring."


He reached for his drink, an ale with a shot glass of brandy dropped in for effect. "Poor thing's probably still hung up ever since that Hyur got his neck twisted right in front of her a quarter moon ago." He said, with a slight sadness to his voice and looked over himself at the woman.

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She continued to stair at the chair across from her for a moment before her Sultansworn training told her there were eyes burning holes into her hair. Not wanting to risk damage to her pony-tail she slowly turned her gaze right and up to see a large bundle of blankets hovering before her.


"Laundr̃y day already, Miss Aya?", she remarked not really sure who she was addressing. She could think of no one else that may be wandering off with the inn's blankets.

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If anything confirmed that it wasn't Aya, it was the brisk, bass refutal that reverberated from beyond the suddenly quaking wad of bedding. "I ain't worried, I don't care!" The bundle lifted enough to display a large pair of dirty, spike-studded black leather thighboots. 


While Berrod had truly been addressing the fellow near him, the query at the tip of his tongue never made it out thanks to the intervention of Crofte's voice. Someone snapped Warren's neck?


Slowly the bundled was adjusted to reveal at least his head, covered in blood red hair that was shaved at the sides and tied into a tail along the back. Ruddy scruff littered his jaw -- it seemed he hadn't shaved in a few days. "Uh -- it ain't Aya -- S'me, Berrod." 


The emphasis he placed on his first name was most blatant, and served as an unintentional introduction toward the other male nearby.

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P'azih couldn't help but chuckle as the Highlander, named Berrod it would seem looked like he'd been caught red handed doing... something.


"I think she caught you, Berrod." he said taking a quick drink before continuing. "I can only assume you know the lady on first name basis... you should probably go over. Anyone drunk enough to think you the barmaid is far too drunk." he chuckled, tapping his side lightly.


"P'azih. Tia, naturally."

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Coatleque shook her head for a moment. "Maester Ar̃mstrong? I hadn't r̃ealized ye work her̃e now!" Her gazed moved on to the other man as well. "An I'm nae dr̃unk!", she said with a nod.


She leaned forward and poured another shot from the bottle. She had purchased it for the man on that previous night, but he hadn't even open it before his... accident. "It's nae what it looks like!" She leaned back in the chair once more.

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