The Dodo Lady [ Closed | OOC Welcome | Stories ]

[D'ly]

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[ OOC: After being convinced by my buddy(hi Tier) to post my latest D'ly story thingy I decided it might be a good idea to make a thread to throw both stories and journals into. Cause yayyy organization! OOC comments are welcomed. Please note I am a horrid speller, so if you find a typo or something don't be afraid to tell me in a pm. ]

 

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[align=center]Mind At Sea | One Too Many | Musical Coins | Hair Cut | I Spy | Blanket Covered Lungs | A Visit | Razor | Pearls | Whine | The Shroud | Misty Nightmares | A Letter | Collector

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ONWARD TO STORIES...[/align]

[D'ly]

[To those who frequent The Quicksand on Balmung: I’m totally cool if your character saw or heard bits of the following story.] 

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“Amalj’aa!?”

 

The midday hustle and bustle of The Quicksand helped soften the booming voice belonging to a Elezen male; a Wildwood. The tall, tan, tence man(who had brown slicked back hair and sideburns that framed a soft, yet angular face)  focused his stone hard stare on his company who sat across the table with straight posture.

 

With her wrist balancing her clasped hands on the edge of a rounded table that separated the two, D’ly‘s fingers flexed. “It- it is best not- not to raise your voice in- in this place.” Her words offered a suggestion, her tone was a warning. “Let- let us speak of something else.”

 

She knew how curious people could be; especially the ones who stood up on the raised floor by the railings. They liked to watch and listen. ‘Railing huggers’, she came to call them, and was often one herself. Except for that point in time. Right then D’ly was on the other side along with her company. They were the ones other who were most likely being listening in on. She hated it, but she dared not let her eyes waver from the man in fear of possibly meeting her’s with a railing hugger’s.

 

“Amalj’aa…” The Elezen repeated.

 

“Vorsaile--” D’ly cooed, her face softened.

 

“I hope you do not fight them in this.” Vorsaile gestured to the garments that D’ly wore.

 

D’ly’s gaze fell to her body.

 

What she wore was much dressier than her regular attire. Though her black, high neck, sleeveless top; brown, hard leather choker; and fingerless black hard leather gloves were familiar the long white flowing skirt; off-black ankle boots that flared at the top; and large straw capeline were not.

 

“Do- do you think- think me a fool?” Shaking her head she added, “I- I have perfectly conditioned gear- gear for such excursions.”

 

“A fool? No.” Vorsaile too shook his head.

 

D’ly arched a curious brow. She could hear his words linger. So she waited, fully aware  that there was going to be more to that reply.

 

“Though I can’t help but think...” He leaned against the back of the chair as he spoke. “... that people who do foolish things are called fools.”

 

“You- you are going back- back on your words.” D’ly replied, frowning. She pulled her hands onto her lap where they rested, fingers still clasped together.

 

“Ah-” There was a pause as he concentrated with effort. “- then I go back on them.” He answered shortly.

 

D’ly’s ears that were facing Vorsaile lowered against her head while her tail moved onto the chair next to her leg. “Did- did you come here to- to belittle me or- or to visit?”

 

Closing his eyes Vorsaile sighed. “I mean not to offend-”

 

“You- you are doing a- a poor job at- at it.” D’ly muttered.

 

He ignore her comment and continued, “I simply am worried for your safety.” There was a genuinely concerned tone in his voice.

 

“Then- then find another way to- to show it.”

 

Another pause. It was only when a tall, graceful, blond haired female Hyur came over placing plate of finger sandwiches, a bottle of ale, and two mugs onto the table that the silence in their imaginary bubble broke. Turning toward the female, D’ly also broke their gaze to give a warm smile to the female. “Ah, thank you Aya.” Aya(who D’ly was convinced was the embodiment of happiness), the barmaid returned a smile before walking off to tend to other Quicksand patrons.

 

“I don’t understand how you can eat here.” Vorsaile commented.

 

“Is it- it the noise?” D’ly asked, reaching for the bottle to uncork it by biting down on it and with a POP!, opened the bottle.

 

“It is.” Vorsaile sneered at D’ly as she spat the cork into her hand. Disgusting.

 

“It- it is not- not so bad at night.” She set the cork on the table and began the poor the amber colored liquid into the two mugs.

 

“There is no bad time at the Bismarck.” He replied.

 

D’ly slid the first mug to be filled across the table to him.

 

“It would have been nice to have gone there.” Vorsaile took a pull from the mug. He wasn’t too pleased with the taste; it caused a warm bubbly burn-like feeling on his tongue, however it wasn’t strong enough to have him dismiss the drink. D’ly was kind enough to pay for their drinks and meal. The least he could do was enjoy what he was given, considering his vocal disappointment in her recent activities.

 

 

“I- I enjoy it here.” D’ly finally spoke. The bottle was placed back onto the table after her mug was filled. “There is- is always a story to- to be heard. A drink- drink to drink. Or food to- to be eaten.” With her mug’s rim resting on her bottom lip she added. “The company can- can be interesting…”

 

“And dangerous.” Vorsaile was quick to put in his two gil.

 

“Do- do you think all the- the ones who step- step foot in the Bismarck are- are Saints?” D’ly chuckled. “Ah- haa… Vorsaile. I- I thought I was suppose to- to be the fool.”

 

The corner of Vorsaile’s lips drew up into a smile. Slowly, but surely a chuckle worked it’s way up his chest and out of his mouth… right into his mug which splashed the ale at his nose. He set his mug on the table, lifted his arm up, and while dabbing away at his nose with the end of his sleeve he replied, “I guess the tables have been turned.”

 

“Now that- that they have…” D’ly took a moment to take pull from her mug. A satisfied gasp slipped past her parted lips. “Do tell- tell me,” She smiled. “how are- are things in Limsa?”

 

“The same as always.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Indeed. Why don’t you come back so you can see for yourself?”

 

“I… I can not.” A hint of hesitance shook D’ly’s voice into an unsteadiness.

 

“Why not?” Vorsaile brought his mug back to his mouth and waited for a reply as he drank.

 

“I- I am far to- to busy here.”

 

“With the Amalj’aa?”

 

D’ly frowned. “I- I have family here.”

 

“As well as in Limsa.” Vorsaile tilted his chin up ever so slightly. He carefully watched D’ly. “Or… do you not think of me as family?”

 

Mentally she was eased back toward a corner. She wouldn't have it though. Not in a million cycles would she allow herself to fail where she so many times succeeded. This game of theirs was not over...

 

“Ahh!” D’ly’s face lit up. Her ears perked up. Her head pointed toward the double doors that swung open at the front of The Quicksand. Warm rays from the sun poured into the first quarter of the building and faded into the other lighting that keep the building from falling into darkness. “It- it looks nice out- out!” She exclaimed, raising from her seat which she pushed back with her legs. “Come now, let- let us go for a walk.”

 

At first Vorsaile looked as if to protest, but his expression softened as he asked reasonable question. “What about our food? Are we just going to leave it here?”

 

“Oh- oh no. It- it can be wrapped.” Setting her almost empty mug on the table she turned to look around the room. It didn’t take long to spot Aya. With a wave from D’ly and a nod from the barmaid she soon came over after finishing an order with patron.

 

There was talk, some explanatory hand gestures, smiles, and nods. Without taking hardly any time Aya was gone with the plate of finger sandwiches and back again with them wrapped. She handed them to D’ly and in return she was given payment for the food, plus extra.

 

After exchanging a few more smiles and ‘hope to see you again’s the barmaid was off, being waved down by another patron.

 

From under the table, where the mugs and bottles remained, waddled a sleepy eyed Dodo. He had been there the entire time, snoozing by their feet being a good little bird.

 

D’ly, mentioning giving a tour of the city, slipped her arm around Vorsaile’s in a familiar manner and the three of them walked through the double doors and into the warm daylight, leaving the chatter of The Quicksand behind them.

[Hyakki]

((You have a new elfbuddy :surprise:. Good for you! Get that giraffe action!))

[D'ly]

[Awwww yis. Giraffe. Bet ya love that Mamushi. ♥]

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“You- you look like an- an old man.”

 

White fabric from a spring styled skirt bunched around D’ly’s upper thighs displaying her slender legs. They draped over Vorsaile’s shoulders whom sat in a simple white armchair pushed against a white cocktail table where D’ly sat.

 

…everything in the living room that they occupied was white; the walls, the drapes, the sofa, the shaving cream that covered the lower half of Vorsaile’s face and neck, even the bone handle of a recently cleaned and sharpened straight razor that he held loose in his hands. It all looked so elegant.

 

He chuckled, “Am I not already?”

 

D’ly placed her index and middle finger to the underside of his chin, lifting it up so that his head tilted back and rested in her lap.

 

“Thirty-seven years is not- not that old.” She replied, a-matter-a-factly.

 

“Its not?” He asked, staring up at her with a cocked brow.

 

“I- I  do not- not think so.”

 

Their words fell into silence; into the pure, fresh room that was one of many in the building that Vorsaile called home. He hadn’t call it home for long — only coming into his possession about four years before — however newly made memories that were created in its halls were fond and plenty; everything a new homeowner would want.

 

Memories had continued to be created. At that moment in time they were made with a cool razor securely held in D’ly’s right hand while she slowly, gently scraped it up Vorsaile’s neck, against the grain of the his beard(more so stubble).

 

At any moment the memory in progress could have been cut short with just a flick of her wrist. There was something so intimate about it; to have his life held in the hands of his friend. It sent a tingle up and down his spine. Had Vorsaile been told twenty years ago that being shaved could give him a calming rush he would have looked at the sayer like they had two head. Yet there he sat, relishing her careful movements with both razor and hand.

 

 

 

“I swear I’ve gained more wrinkles.”

 

“Vorsaile!” D’ly cried, removing the blade from his skin as she took a glob of shaving cream from the nearby mug and smear it across his nose.

 

Voresaile let out a bellow of a laugh. He wiped the cream from his nose and reached up to redistribute onto her’s. He missed mear ilms as she jerked away to the wall behind her, setting the razor on the table and sliding it a fulm away to avoid any injuries.

 

“Don’t think you will get away that easily!” He turned around in his chair with one knee on the seat and his opposite foot solid against the ground.

 

D’ly let out a startled gasp which became a squeaky giggle. It was a kind of joyous giggle that your ears followed up and down in jumps. One that only furthered the Elezen’s playful drive to try and put the cream on her nose. But first he had to get in range.

 

With his grip on the back of the chair he used it to pull himself forward before removing his hand, wrapping it around her waist, and sliding her toward him in one fluid motion.

 

She squeaked, her hands pressed against his shoulders as she turned her head. It was no use, he won.

 

“Got you.” He dabbed the cream on the tip of her nose.

 

“Ahh- ahaha!” She giggled at his victory. “I-It- it seems y-you have!” Her head turned, careful not to bump their foreheads against each other’s due to their close proximity.

 

Vorsaile closed the gap as he placed his forehead to her’s. A smile that had found his lips to be a comfortable home grew into a grin.

 

Time around them felt like it had stopped, if only for a moment…

 

Tick.

 

But time never stopped. The clock on the fireplace mantel on the other side of the room reminded them, specifically D’ly, that it never truly stopped.

 

“Ah!” She pulled away from her friend, eyes focused on what the clock read. “Oh- oh! We- we must clean you up!”

 

Vorsaile whirled around to following her eyes to the time.

 

“Sit- sit back down, will you not?” D’ly placed weight on his shoulder as she spoke.

 

He quickly complied.

 

“Your clothing, are- are they clean?” The razor returned to her clean hand while the one covered in cream reapplied fresh to his unshaven face.

 

“They are.” Once more he tilted his head back into her lap to give D’ly better ease at removing his unwanted facial hair.

 

“Good. It- it would not- not be wise to show up in- in dirty clothing.”

 

“Says the one who has never been on a date.”

 

D’ly paused…

 

Vorsaie blinked.

 

The both of them broke into a fit of laughter much stronger than the one before. It filled the entire room, and into the next, and the next as they frantically traveled to the necessary ones(bathroom, kitchen, entrance) to finish the Elezen’s preparations before sending him off.

 

“Do- do be safe.” D’ly stood on her toes in the doorway to his home, her arms outstretched.

 

“I will.” He embraced her, his arms around her shoulders for a final farewell hug for the night.

 

And what a night it was.

[D'ly]

Wine would cover it, right?

 

D’ly stood bare in Vorsaile’s shower with her arms raised above her head. Held in her grasp was a large bottle of wine; the cork removed. She was stiff. Nervous. The unwelcome anticipation of the cool liquid prodded her mind.

 

Get it over with, you fool.

 

She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

 

With a sharp inhale through her nostrils she sharply turned the bottle over. Glug, glug, glug, out the contents went, pouring over her head and down her body.

 

Gods, it was cold.

 

Gods, she hated the cold.

 

Her ears flattened at the first touch of the liquid. Her body hunched as if somehow she could avoid the chill. She couldn’t.

 

What felt like bells of torture was merely a couple minutes before the last dribble of wine dripped onto her head. “…ah.” She gasped, eyes open as she stood there a moment in shock.

 

Did she really just do that?

 

She set the bottle down on the shower’s floor.

 

Would it work?

 

Hopefully her hair wouldn’t become purple…

 

A loud hisssss came from the shower-head as she turned the nozzle. Unlike the cold, the warmth of the water was welcomed as it both removed the chill and the color that the wine had lightly left on both her skin and hair.

 

Time ticked by. The shower had been turned off. The bottle had been removed from the floor and set on a counter. D’ly stood in the bathroom, towel wrapped around her torso as she lifted a lock of hair to get a better look of it’s color.

 

It still held a slight tint.

 

She frowned and left the bathroom in search for her cigarettes… or lavender perfume. Which she found first(hint, it was the lavender perfume).

 

…it would cover it, right?

[D'ly]

D’ly had felt his warmth against her back every time she stirred during the night. However, when morning broke his warmth was no longer there. Only emptiness between her back and back of the living room’s white sofa greeted her, leaving her gaze to lazily, confusingly search her surroundings for clues as to where her friend had gone.

 

Upon the coffee table across from where she laid was a piece of paper; an assumed note, and a single white pearl; an assumed gift. She sat up, vocally stretching her arms toward the ceiling, then let them fall to her lap before she reached for the paper.

 

“You’re awake.” Vorsaile stood in the entrance of his living room with his shoulder leaning against the frame. He held a warm mug tea that he quietly sipped at.

 

D’ly looked over her shoulder at the neatly dressed Elezen, concern in her eyes. “Is- is he here?”

 

Vorsaile shook his head before nodding toward the paper in her lap. “He left before I awoke.”

 

“…shame.” Her head hung, her dejected look fell to the paper.

 

On the paper was what looked to be a crudely drawn… map? She squinted at a cat eared stick figure that held a sword and shield. It stood next to a Cactuar which was next to a house that looked to be in The Goblet style. Beyond the house was a road with the same stick figure who was walking toward a large forest; she easily figured that out to be The Shroud. The last two drawings of a river and a leve plate confirmed it.

 

During those few silent moments, Vorsaile made his way over to the side of the couch. He looked over D’ly at the paper, taking another sip from his mug.

 

“The Shroud?”

 

“Hmm.” D’ly nodded.

 

“You should go.” Vorsaile looked to D’ly.

 

She turned in her seat, eyes focused on Vorsaile’s face with an arched a brow.

 

“You should.” Vorsaile repeated, taking another sip he shifted his gaze to the paper.

 

“Why is- is that?”

 

“He might want company.”

 

“Then why did- did he not- not wake me?”

 

“Why not go and ask him?” He smiled against the mug’s rim.

 

D’ly paused. After a moment she rose to her feet with the paper in one hand and snatched the pearl from the table with her other.

 

“Did your necklace lose a pearl?”

 

“No.” She moved past Vorsaile, exiting the living room, and headed toward the stairs with determination in her eyes.

 

“Where are you going?” He asked, following her to the base of the stairs.

 

“To- to get my gear.” She came to a stop half way up the stairs.

 

Vorsaile’s smile grew as he asked, “What for?”

 

“To protect myself.”

 

“Against?”

 

“The Shroud.”

[D'ly]

[i totally didn't forget post the next three stories. No siree! ;>^>] 

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“Vorsaile.” A soft, strained voice called out with effort.

 

Turning his head, the tanned Wildwood caught the sight of his friend’s silhouette from over his shoulder. She stood in the door frame separating his bedroom from the upstairs hallway from whence she came.

 

“Lyhhia?” Vorsaile turned over in his bed, facing the Seeker woman.

 

“May… may I sleep- sleep with you?”

 

A sympathetic sigh passed his lips.

 

“Yes… come here.” he replied, pulling the covers aside and patting the free space beside him.

 

D'ly sluggishly shuffled over to the bed.

 

Reaching out, Vorsaile took hold of D'ly’s hands which had clung to the end of her black camie.

 

“Tell me,” he began, slowly guiding her into the free spot with his hands and soothing warm voice. “what has you up so late?”

 

Easing onto her side she spoke. “I- I am unable to- to sleep.”

 

“I can see that.” he watched her settle in, sliding the covers up to her shoulder once she had gotten comfortable. “What troubles you?” he reworded the question.

 

“I- I had a nightmare.” she replied, soon followed by a frustrated huff of air escaping her nose.

 

Slipping his left arm under her neck and his right over her torso, he protectively pulled her toward him.

 

“What kind of nightmare?” he asked, gently rubbing her back with a side to side motion while his chin rested against the top of her head.

 

There was a moment of silence as she mustered the courage to speak of the horrid images her dream had plagued her with.

 

“I was- I was in Coerthas.” she pressed her forehead against his undershirt covered chest. It was a means to make her feel secure in her shaken state. “With- with a friend, the- the Seeker from Limsa.”

 

“The captain?”

 

She nodded, brows furrowed.

 

“I- I am not- not sure why she was there…” she explained, confused by the details of her dream. “The rest- rest of the people at- at the camp were- were other adventurers and soldiers”

 

“Dreams…” the word lingered a moment, “don’t always make sense.” he reminded her, then asked. “You said you were at a camp?”

 

“We- we were on patrol near one.” Her ears lowered slightly. “The- the camp was not- not far from where others fought- fought the dragon hordes.”

 

“Did a dragon show up?” he already knew the answer, but asked to coax her to continue.

 

“Yes.” she tensed at the thought. “ We must- must have been five hundred or- or so yalms from the- the camp.” her fingers clenched his shirt as she whispered, “It- it landed in front- front of us and turned- turned its attention to- to one of the soldiers.”

 

Vorsaile tilted his head down with his lips pressed to her head. He asked calmly through her hair, “What happened next?”

 

“I- I yelled at it.”

 

“Yelled? You can do that?” he tased her in attempt to lighten her mood.

 

She puffed her cheeks, blowing the air out soon after to reply. “…somewhat.”

 

“You yelled at the dragon.”

 

She nodded, explaining, “I- I yelled to- to pull its- its attention from the soldier.”

 

“Dream you is brave.” he added, “Just like the real you.”

 

She said nothing, tightening her grip on his shirt.

 

“Did it work?” he asked a moment later.

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not surprised. If I were a dragon I wouldn’t be scared of your squeaky yells.”

 

“Vorsaile!” she squeaked, tilting her head up only to get a view of the front of his neck.

 

He broke out into a hardy laugh at the sound of her squeak, his nose nuzzling the top of her head. “See? How could a dragon take that seriously?”

 

“…it- it can not.” She pouted. “So I shot it.”

 

“Did that work?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?” He cocked a brow.

 

She shook her head. “The- the dragon swung his tail around and hit- hit my bow, then my side sending me to- to the ground covered snow.” she briefly paused. “My bow broke. Part of it- it went into- into my side.”

 

He cringed at the thought and made sure his hand continued to give a comforting back rub.

 

“It- it was c-cold. Everything… hurt.”

 

“I’m sure it did.” he replied with a tender tone.

 

“My- my friend and another came for- for me.” her words started to catch in her throat, to shake at the bloody memory which was her nightmare. “They- they dragged me- me through the snow, away from the- the dragon, towards the- the camp.”

 

Her shaky words fell into silence for a brief moment before, once again whispering, “I- I saw it-it s-snap a person in half with it’s- it’s mouth. That… that is- is all I remember.” She lied about remembering.

 

“Lyhhia,” he cooed, “it was only a dream. Dreams can’t hurt you.”

 

Leaning up, she pressed her forehead to the front of his neck, her hands draping behind it in a form of a hug.

 

“What- what if Ishgard can not- not hold the horde?” she asked.

 

It was the same concern Vorsaile had asked himself many times before, yet never out loud.

 

“Then we fight.”

 

He didn’t want to admit to her that he feared Ishgard couldn’t hold their own. He wouldn’t burden her with his fear. Still, he couldn’t sugar coat the possibility.

 

“Very well.” she slid her forehead down his neck, coming to a halt at his collar.

 

“You should sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” he suggested, returning his chin to her head.

 

“May I- I stay here?”

 

“Of course.” Pulling his right arm out from under the covers he reached over and tucked the sheets under her body. He returned his arm back over her torso, keeping her close to help her fall asleep feeling protected and warm.

 

“Thank you.” she mumbled against his chest, falling asleep not long after.

[D'ly]

A pale light shone through the windows of one of the occupied room at The Roost. Inside laid two friends, side by side and only partially shrouded by thin, cream sheets. The bronzed Tia peacefully dozed, softly inhaling and exhaling with a light murmur accompanying each repetition or respiration. The light, peach toned female Seeker looked on with with an uncertain frown.

 

She studied his features, reaching out slowly, almost hesitantly as her fingertips aimed to thread at the short locks draping over his face, her hand turning at the last moment to use the back of her fingers, only to have him and the room around her disappear a mere tick before making contact.

 

She blinked once, then twice.

 

It was…

 

She was no longer at The Roost.

 

…another dream?

Her hand remained outstretched, looking to gather purchase upon something that was no longer there.

 

“…ah-” She sounded. A disheartened and confused squeak escaped her throat, her ears splaying flat against her head in embarrassment. Her hand, no longer seeking its prize, slowly retreating towards her chest, trying to shield it as if to protect it from some kind of impending hurt.

 

Is it so bad to touch him? She thought to herself.

 

Her brows furrowed, sculpting her features into a visage of irritation.

 

It would have simply been a friendly gesture. She reassured herself, sucking on the inside of her lower lip, a light hiss of air piercing the otherwise silent scene. A moment later her cheeks puffed out in, tinted red with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance

 

That same annoyance fueled the hard grip of her bed’s sheets, wrapping them tight to sculpt to her body, taking on its curves and form. A shuffled turn on spot positioned her facing away from the source of her confusion, staring into yet more… darkness.

 

A soft sigh escaped her lips, slowly drawing her eyelids to a close and pulling the covers high over her head.

 

She hid.

 

From the darkness, from the world, from him.

 

She hid.

 

Until the warm morning light broke and poured through the window.

[D'ly]

For the attention of Vorsaile Cornu,

 

Your discreet assistance has been requested by a member of your firm, a one “P’azih Tia” whom has been under our care at the village of Tailfeather.

 

—

 

Vorsaile sat at his desk, illuminated by a soft glow emitted from a small lamp. He propped his head up in one hand, easing the weight off his exhausted neck. In his other hand he held a letter he was unable to read until the moon took its place among the stars.

 

The low roar of waves rolling across the distant beach gently blew in through the bedroom window. Both rolling sea and cool breeze soothed him, helping him focus on the task at hand; figuring out who and when to send someone to Tail feather.

 

“Vor– saile?” Came a questioning squeak.

 

“Yes?” He asked as he turned his head toward the hallway door at a familiar, however pleasant sight.

 

Between the half open door and its frame stood D’ly, dressed in a black cami and white knee length bloomers that she often slept in.

 

“Are- are you… alright?” Her face held the look of concern. She held the edge of the door with one hand while her other was placed flat against the hallway’s side.

 

Vorsaile blew out a quiet sigh through his nose, “Yes.”

 

“You do not- not look so.” She shifted her foot forward, causing the door to open more.

 

“I can assure you, I’m alright.” He paused, closing his eyes and returning his head to its previous position in his hand. “Minus ‘n achy neck.”

 

D’ly frowned before slipping around the door and making her away across the wooden floor to where her friend sat. “What are you reading?” She asked, gently placing her hands on his shoulders.

 

There was a moment of hesitation as Vorsaile opened his eyes, letting them scan the letter once more before deciding on handing it back to her.

 

With the letter in hand she began to read, slowly backing her way toward the end of his bed where she plopped herself down.

As her eyes ran across each word, her brows furrowed, until she read the Seeker’s name. In an instant she looked up at Vorsaile, questioning both him and the letter with just a look.

 

“This was the only letter.” He gestured his free hand toward the paper. “I don’t know any other details than what it contained.”

 

D’ly’s eyes fell down to the letter, it’s edges crumpling within her tightened grasp.

 

“I will be sending a few men as soon as I’m ab–”

 

“I- I will go.” She interrupted.

 

“Lyhhia…” Vorsaile frowne. He felt helpless, unable to much of anything for his friend who sat there, utterly crushed by the news of her’s. “This isn’t like La Noscea, or Thanalan.” He attempted to persuade her in thinking over her hasty decision. “The creatures that surround Tailfeather ‘n the nearby regions, they’re much more dangerous than what you’ve faced.”

 

“I do not care.” She firmly protested, however swif, being able to get through her first four words without her voice cutting out. “I- I am going. He is my- my friend. I–” She looked up, the light from the lamp shined off her glistening eyes. She whispered, “Please.”

 

He sighed once again, this time loudly(half due to his achy neck) as he turned in his chair to face her. “You’re not to go alone.”

 

D’ly’s ears perked up, her eyes widened with a hint of joy.

 

“I won’t have you running around alone in unknown lands with unfamiliar creatures.” He motioned for her to come closer as he spoke. “So I will be sending bodyguards with you. I’ll contact them tomorrow ‘n we’ll figure out a plan from there.”

 

“What about- about the ‘discreet assistance’ that- that was ask of?” She pushed herself up, off the bed, stepping toward Vorsaile and handing him the letter.

 

“They will be discreet bodyguards.” He took the letter and placed it on his desk.

 

The corner of her lips lifted into a soft smile. “Thank- thank you.” She moved forward, arms out to embrace him.

 

He embraced her in return. “Know that I’m not one bit pleased that you are going.” He said, his forehead pressed against the top of her shoulder to rest to his neck.

 

“I know.” She replied, gently patting his back. Feeling the weight of his head she spoke, “Come.” Her arms slipped out from under his, her hands running down down before her fingers hooked around his and pulled. “You- you must get- get some sleep; you look exhausted.”

 

“I am.” He got up from his seat, dragging himself with the help from D’ly over to his bed which he crawled onto when close enough.

 

“Come now.” D’ly pushed at him, herding him toward his pillows. “Come on, under the- the covers.”

 

As he laid his head upon the plush heaven felt pillows, he pulled his legs up allowing for D’ly to pull down the covers then up over his body.

 

“Get- get some rest, alright?” She asked, looking down at him as she leaned on the best.

 

Chuckling out a yawn, he replied, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

 

D’ly smirked, giving a light pat on his sheet covered shoulder. She soon headed to the desk, extinguishing the light in the lamp, then headed toward the door causing it to lightly creek as she grabbed the handle. “Good night.”

 

“Good night, Lyhhia.”

 

Carefully, she closed the door behind her, disappearing into the dark hallway to return to her room.

[D'ly]

Scorching desert air cast vibrating shadows across the dusty landscape and wooden structures that made up the small trade post known as Scorpion Crossing.

 

Outside it’s walls were wooden dummies, all too familiar to D’ly who stood a few yalms away with a resting basket on her forearm. From under her capeline she stared at their lonesomeness.

 

He wasn’t there.

 

She inhaled deeply as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, wetting the chapped skin before letting it drag back out from between her teeth. She exhaled through her nose.

 

He was never there.

 

What was there, resting on the ground near the dummy was a crude wooden carving. It was the third one she had found in the past fortnight, alongside numerous other items; a belt, a shoe, sometimes food or a drink that her friend often forgot during, what she assumed was, his escape to avoid her.

 

She picked up the sad lump of wood to examine it, brushing away any grass and dirt that stuck to the rough grains with her thumb.

 

A tender smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she folded back the cloth that covered a half a loaf of bread and wine that sat snug in her basket. She set the carving inside; an addition to her ever growing collection in her room, back at the Driftin’ Sol.

 

The smile faded from her lips, as did the carving from her sight as she covered it and the other contents with the cloth. She took a quick glance at her nearby surroundings for any additional items, and found nothing more.

 

As she turned to start her return trip to the Goblet, her green hues passed over the ever presence Lalafell who stood atop the southern wooden structure, behind the dummies.

 

She never had seen the man before the month she started searching for her friend, and she made note of how he never looked directly at her. It was little actions like so that convinced her was a lookout of sorts, hired by her friend to tell him her movements.

 

She frowned at the thought as she made her way up the stone steps, the basket on her arm, though it weighed her chest.