Oh, Ul’dah. It was a city horrible for business, but great for Rei indulging himself in his ever worsening hoarding habits. The sun was low in the sky at this point as the seeker had garnered quite the collection of new wares for himself to take home to Hingashi. He held on to only a handful of those items as he had the rest sent ahead to the airship dock to be loaded on to his transport home. It was a good haul, though to the passerby, he would’ve looked like a very rich man who had just spent an eccentric amount of gil on loads and loads of garbage. A very confusing disconnected from how elegantly he presented himself.
While in Thanalan, Rei always opted for lighter clothes than his usual silks. A sheer scar over his shoulders, much like a shall, did little to hide his exposed arms and shoulders, his tattoos a walking gallery of birds and flowers. The shirt under that was sleeveless in an attempt to keep himself cool, though he could feel the sun burning the skin on his arms. Good thing the sun was setting, no more sun burn or stupid heat to contend with. But in the dessert, as the sun sets, the cold sets in too and Rei was intent on getting inside quickly. His airship wouldn’t leave until the next morning, so heading back to the quicksand wasn’t the worst of plans.
He turned back out of the markets and into the back alley that connected the rich with the poor. He was used to street thugs, living in a household now that was essentially all street thugs. With his hair tied in a loose bun above his neck, it didn’t really surprise him that a drunk man or two called out to him. Or maybe they didn’t care? Either way, Rei kept his eyes forward as he walked, his arms loose at his side. He was oddly relaxed despite the odd sense of tension in the air.
There was a loud thud in a small alley off to the side and Rei turned around to meet the sound. “Don’t go over there…” he commanded himself, his ears flicking as curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t move initially as the sounds of a struggle seemed to grow more frequent. His tail swished excitedly behind him. For all his dark deeds, Rei did consider himself a hero and what a better way to act that part then to go over and intervene. He placed his small bag of junk on the ground, knowing that when he got back, it would probably be gone.
Picking a knife out of his boot, Rei turned around to run into the alley to spot three refugees ganging up on a tall man. Most likely Elezen from the looks of it. Not many were that tall and of that build. He maneuvered himself into the middle of the group. He was much smaller than the Elezen, but he would have the presence of someone whose hands were drenched in blood. His gaze was narrowed with a killer’s instinct, his teeth barred angrily. “Leave, now,” he demanded.
But without giving one of the refugees so much as the chance to back away, Rei swung his dagger upward into a highlander’s face, cutting the man’s cheek open and cutting off some of his nose. Blood poured down the attacker’s face as shock settled in. “Stand down, or I will cut you down,” He said that too late for one man, it seemed. Was this miqo’te really a hero stepping in to help someone?
Rei glanced over his shoulder as the Elezen behind him so rudely thanked his deity instead of him for saving his life. His ears flicked, slight irate, as he stared up at the man. Rei hadn’t realized how tall the Elezen was until that moment. But he wasn’t going to relax quite yet. Not until the armed thugs decided they’d had enough. “One, two…” he began to count under his breath. But he soon found them fleeing, rather than engaging the two of them.
The seeker turned around, nearly whipping the Elezen with his hair as he did so, “There is no deity on this plane who is going out of their way to save you. I just happened to be passing by this mess…” he gestured to the blood splattered on the pavement with his blood soaked dagger. He lifted the blade a bit closer to his face to get a better look at it and then idly began flinging the blood off of it in a sharp flicking motion of his wrist.
He turned back to face the Elezen again, lowering the dagger so it was in a non-threatening position, “Damsel?” he repeated the word, tilting his head slightly, a loose lock of hair slipping from his shoulder. He seemed genuinely confused by that notion, “I don’t care if you’re a man or woman. Scum like that needs to be eradicated,” he glared back at the blood stains on the pavement from the man he had landed his warning shot on. “I’m glad you have the decency to also thank me instead of that Osch…whoever,” he shook his head.
He a came even closer to the man, his feet light on the pavement, almost silent, as he began to examine the man more closely, standing on his toes even to check his wounds, “Did they break your skin?” he asked, reaching out with his free hand to try and take hold of the arm the Elezen had over his own torso to check the wound, “I am not a healer, but I can bring you to one,” he frowned, looking up at the man through his long eyelashes,.
“What did you think you were doing? wandering around out here with nothing but a rusty old meat knife,” he chided and held out his own dagger, “It’s dirty, but at least carry this. I can always get another.” His dagger was of shinobi make. But the man himself was not a shinobi. He held out the knife handle first to the minstrel to take.
Valen would have taken a surprised step back if he wasn’t already leaning against the wall. Quite surprised by the man’s attitude. Plus the fact that his usual charm seemed to have no effect. “Well… Not an easy customer this one.” The words were muttered mostly to himself as he maintained that earlier smile.
“Oschon the Wanderer. He is one of the Twelve gods of Eorzea. The deity that watches over those of us that wander the world.” Moving his arm aside to show there were no open wounds. Maybe a cracked rib but that wasn’t visible to the eye. “I shall be alright. I will contact a healer friend later. The busted lip. Maybe a cracked rib. This is minor compared to the damage I took from a failed hunt a moon ago.”
Valen took a long moment looking at the dagger. As if deciding whether he wanted to accept such a gift. Conflicted but slowly he reached to take it. “I am afraid I might dishonor such a fine gift. My skills are with the strings rather then a blade. Not that my bow would have been much help in this situation. I am a hunter of distance. A player of songs. I never thought to need such a skill before. Nor was it my intention to wander down the wrong road. I was merely rehearsing my music in my head.”
Seeing as the situation seemed safe, the little doman magpie finally flew down from the roof. Landing lighting on Valen’s shoulder and chirping at him. The young man giving a laugh which caused him to wince. Reaching up to gently rub Lily’s belly. “How rude of me. I am Valentin and this is my companion, Lily. But you may call me Valen. Might I ask the name of my savior?”
Spirit of the Warlock 