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"You cannot save everyone." [Open Welcomed]


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((The following is a side story in between where it'll take place in Quicksand, where Anelia has severe drinking problems, and her consistent depression that she is unable to talk to anyone. Anyone is welcomed. - To a point this is rather a story development than a social talk.))


It's been three months since Anelia was haunted by the deaths of her siblings, and it had been five day since she was restless due to load of paper works that were piling up on top of her desk. The only thing you'd see in her office are plenty of empty alcohol bottles around the floor and her desk, and also plenty of unorganized papers.


The one who keeps everything organized, and who used to vow on the sobriety to prevent herself from drinking has broken her personal rules. She takes a deep sigh and picks up her papers from the floor and stares at it.


Cases reported by Ser Natalie Mcbeef, and other cases reported by Ser Coatleque Crofte, and by herself. She narrowed her eyes and frowned at all of the incidents that has happened. She wondered if what she is doing is the right thing to do. She basically had been making severe mistakes as a Sultansworn, and as a leader. In result, there were casualties on both sides. She wanted to protect both sides if she could, but in the end - her decision has been nothing but hurt both sides. She spoke with her superior Captain Jenlyns Straightblade for counseling, and the only statement he gave to her was,


"You are a second base ranked captain, Anelia. You should start behaving like one and show an example to people, not ask lower authorities what you should do."


It probably was true. She isn't a lost child anymore, and she should be making the right decision and stick with it. The idealist paladin realizes that peace between both sides will never happen, and paladins and Sultansworns should endure all the pains and sufferings that will come to them. She closes her eyes and grabs all of the reports and walks down to Quicksand for drinks. 


For considerable amount of thinking, Anelia remembered her friend Mizuho's statement long time ago where she has said along with the line of,


 "You cannot save everyone, Anelia."



Perhaps what everyone was saying is right, about how they have said she has been having childish dreams and not seeing the reality. Is it wrong for Anelia to dream such ideals? Does she really need to see someone die to save another? 


She also has the urge of bloodlust in her due to the wars and battles she encountered, and she realizes that the leash she has set in her will break eventually and she'd be out of control. All the self-denials, and self-restrained emotions will eventually break down. She felt insecure, and she felt distant towards others. 'Would it feel better if I actually didn't deny my lust for battle?' She shook her head after thinking about it. 'No. Anelia, you are a Sultansworn and a paladin. You can get through this restrained emotions.' 


While she's sitting down, she asked for two bottles of Drybone whiskey for herself. She drinks consistently while reading her reports. As she's drinking consistently, she starts to remember her two siblings; Fiore and Aurenn dying in her eyes along with her comrades.

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Another day, another gil. Tarot wasn't the drinking sort of man--drinks cost money, and since they were drinks, it was money he'd never see again. But then, he wasn't here to slake his own thirst but that of his ever unquenchable associate, Moggie-Moglin. Moggie-Moglin, the moogle that Tarot worked closely with and that acted as more or less his enforcer when the need arose, was know for two things--one, his love of blunt instruments that he could use to swing wildly at people he didn't care for, and two, his love of drink. And while the moogle considered himself a connoisseur of alcohol, the trough was, he'd drink anything that gave his little body a buzz.


And so it was that Tarot had found himself sitting at a table near the lone woman with her paperwork. His eyes traced over her a moment, taking in details. Name started with an 'A', and she was a Sultansworn, if he recalled correctly. She seemed to be in a bit of the moody-blues at the moment, and Tarot was bored at the moment, which mean that nothing good could come of this.


Leaning his broad form on the back of his chair, his free hand knocked the salt shaker off the table to the floor and onto his bare foot, catching it and muffling the sound of it falling. His foot then covered the condiment dispenser as he leaned towards the Sultansworn whose name started with an 'A' and grinned, motioning with his hand. "Hey, excuse me, Ser, you wouldn't happen to have a salt shaker on your table, would you? Mine seems to have disappeared."

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Anelia stops drinking for a moment, and dropped her papers to the table after the man next to her asked a question regarding salt shaker. 'Is the man just trying to start a conversation?' 


But then again, she was too drawn into her paper works and her drinks. So she ended up thinking the man probably needed the shaker.


She paused for a bit, but shook her head lightly and grabbed the salt shaker from her table. She lightly bows her head down and hands it to the man with two hands. 


"Here you go, sir. I don't really need it for any purposes, so you can leave it on that table. Do you need other condiments for your food?"

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