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?
Valen sucked in a sharp breath at Rei’s poking around his ribs. Less amused now then he had been before but not quite yet angry. After all, remaining calm was something he was good at. Even when someone was mocking him subtly. Tucking the offered knife into his boot just to keep himself from further physical harm since he had a feeling it wasn’t a joke. Not if he went by Rei’s body language. He wasn’t quite as easy to kill as Rei said. Yet he also wasn’t one who was used to physical fights. Most of his body was rather lithe and the muscles were in his arms and shoulders from using his longbow.
There was something foreign yet not about Rei. The word kami was definitely one indicator that the man was not local. Plus the mention of souvenirs. A look towards where had mentioned leaving his bag of trinkets. A shame really, no matter what the items had been. Trinkets or not. Valen lightly scratched his heart tattooed cheek.Trying to put everything he knew together.
“I apologize for the loss of your possessions. I would have likely ended up beaten bloody and left without gil of course without your intervention. Though do not entirely discount me on one poor choice. I can make many shots that are difficult for the average bowmen. I realize that does not help me here but I have not been long around Ul’dah but a few suns. I come from the Twelveswood. The Shroud to most not born there.” Once more giving the charming boyish smile he was so good at. Attempting to ease any tension. “I may not be wealthy but allow me to help replace what I can of your souvenirs. Or maybe offer you some help or entertainment. I shall leave the choice to you, the dashing young man who rescued me.”
Spirit of the Warlock 