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.”
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?”
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?
How many times had he been warned to watch what streets he wandered down in Ul’dah… Of course his mind had been elsewhere at the time. Low and behold he’d picked one of the worst places to walk down alone. Lily had thankfully flown off to sit on a roof ledge the moment the three men had surrounded him. It kept his small feathered friend out of harm. His precious harp was safe in his room at the Quicksands.
A group of refugee thugs that wanted his gil but used the excuse of the small tune he played for a group of ladies earlier. Hiding their true motives behind what they wanted to him to believe was jealously. The sharp-eyed elezen though could see the difference in their body language. They thought him an easy target because he had a pretty face.
The worst part… Valen wasn’t exactly a close range fighter on his best day. Three against one hunter that preferred to keep a physical distance from his prey. Maybe he should rethink learning some close quarters combat mostly to protect himself. Charm wasn’t winning him out of this corner. Valen was quick but not quick enough when outnumbered with little room to maneuver.
Trying his best to protect his face and other vital areas at the men assaulted him. A silent prayer to Oschon that the beating would be over quickly. When the attacks paused as a voice spoke, Valen lowered his arm from his face to see who was foolish enough to step in. Just in time to see the splash of crimson as the small miqo’te sliced open the face of one man.
“Thank, Oschon…” Valen muttered as he wiped the back of his hand across his busted lip. One of them had gotten a lucky punch to his face. Standing with a groan as the other two men seemed to be trying to decide if they wanted to take on the newcomer. Trying to decide if bleeding was worth whatever sum of gil Valen might be carrying. Definitely not as much as they were hoping to get of course.
Valen drew his hunting knife from his right boot. Not that he could fight with it. It was really only for hunting. However it did make him look less appealing of a target now that the odds weren’t so heavily in the refugees favor. The men seemed to finally decide this venture was no longer worth it, turning tail to run off down the alley.
Sharp jade eyes looking towards Rei, assessing the would-be hero of the night. A small smile tugging at the corner of Valen’s lips. Especially when his eyes took notice of the bird in the man’s tattoos. Lily still chirping her distress from the rooftop. Valen wrapped one arm around his middle as he leaned against the wall. “Well, well… The handsome hero come to the damsel’s rescue. Sorry I’m not quite the damsel you’re looking for though.” There was the charming smile the minstrel was known for even if it was a bit strained because of being beaten about. “Thank you for the rescue all the same. Well as long as you don’t plan to finish what they started of course.” Eyes drifting down to the dagger Rei had used.
JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets,the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment,
your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars
above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.
FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.
H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the
vast expanse of never-ending ocean,the silence of three a.m., danse
macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house,
the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you
can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends.
JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.
EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.
Balder was the norse god of light, joy, purity and the summer sun, also associated with beauty. The death of Balder is a great tragedy to the Æsir and a harbinger of Ragnarok. He is married to Nanna. It is said no place is more beautiful than Balder’s hall, Breidablik.
Spirit of the Warlock 