Aodhan Feol (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oftheseventhstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lazybox2023-06-09 05:33 am
oftheseventhstar) wrote in lazybox2023-06-09 05:33 am
hey lyre. hyre.
Aodhan has seen her around enough times, the young woman who hesitated far too long on the question of a name, the one with an accent that doesn't fit in among even the variation of Limsa Lominsa.
(Not that Aodhan has any room to talk. He barely speaks the tongue, and slides by under the grace of whatever power it was that touched him that night - and he knows the man behind the Adventurer's Guild's bar squinted just as much at his Meracydian script.)
She's running from something, he'd bet. And whatever that thing is... Well. The first and perhaps hardest-earned lesson of the Rogue's Guild, of the pirate city as a whole -
It never hurts to have someone to watch your back.
So out of the half-dozen adventurers, she's the one he picks out, practically melting out of the shadows surrounding the cave entrance. And better her than a total stranger - half the reason he's been staying hidden, after all, is that there's more than enough people gawking at his ears already. Viera aren't jsut an uncommon sight here, they're completely unknown.
A lift of his hand - equal parts 'wave' and 'see I'm not holding my weapon.' "I take it you're also for investigating the cavern," he says. "Care for some company? Better than going into the it alone."
(Not that Aodhan has any room to talk. He barely speaks the tongue, and slides by under the grace of whatever power it was that touched him that night - and he knows the man behind the Adventurer's Guild's bar squinted just as much at his Meracydian script.)
She's running from something, he'd bet. And whatever that thing is... Well. The first and perhaps hardest-earned lesson of the Rogue's Guild, of the pirate city as a whole -
It never hurts to have someone to watch your back.
So out of the half-dozen adventurers, she's the one he picks out, practically melting out of the shadows surrounding the cave entrance. And better her than a total stranger - half the reason he's been staying hidden, after all, is that there's more than enough people gawking at his ears already. Viera aren't jsut an uncommon sight here, they're completely unknown.
A lift of his hand - equal parts 'wave' and 'see I'm not holding my weapon.' "I take it you're also for investigating the cavern," he says. "Care for some company? Better than going into the it alone."
hail, nael
(It stings, a little, that a stranger could pick that up from her, but that over a thousand years, the man she loved either never could, or never wanted to.)
She flicks his ears a half curious glance; for a second, up close, the shape had reminded her of the wings of certain Kevesi and her heart had stuttered a song of conflicted homesickness, but then the moment fades and she doesn't want to be rude.
She looks away, and avoids meeting his gaze directly, too. "Aye," she says. "I heard there was commotion around these parts--thought I'd head over to check it out." After all, verbally is how she's picking up most of her jobs, considering she can't actually read the bizarre text of this land, for all that she can understand the spoken word.
"I...wouldn't say no to company," M says, slow but not quite wary--just uncertain. She's as unused to that concept as she is at being spoken to. "I'm...M," she says, and offers a smile but not her hand, except in a little wave of her own.
let's set sail -
Whatever puts her so ill-at-ease isn't something to confront head on in the first meeting. (Even if some part of him wants to - the rest of him has learned better. That never helped, damn it.)
So he continues, "Let's get inside while they're distracted, yeah? Anything suspicious will hear those kids arguing from a mile away."
Re: let's set sail -
She watches the others gathered here with curiosity that he calls them 'kids;' in truth, she cannot help but feel the same--most people here do feel like children to her, though, to be fair--though it's interesting that he says so. He looks of an age with her, roughly, and M herself looks young enough that Baderon, concerned, had called her a kid the first time she'd wandered into The Drowning Wench, wondering if she was lost.
His calm demeanor does betray more experience than those fledgling adventurers, M supposes, and shrugs to herself. It should make it easier to fight beside him, at least.
Her hands rest on the hilts of the twin daggers she has sheathed at her hips; her arrival in Eorzea had been bewildering, but more than the new tail she now sports, more than the fact that she was alive at all--the most viscerally discomfiting fact of her baffling existence in Eorzea is the lack of her Iris, and thus, her Blade. She misses her twin rings dearly, and had searched for similar weapons around Limsa, but the closest she'd gotten to obtaining them had been a nugget of information about so-called Thavnairian martial dance. Troupes travelled, and arrived upon Limsa's shores not infrequently, and that would be her best chance to ask after such weapons, because most Eorzean weapon smiths would have no true idea or great skill in how to fashion her a pair.
Thus, in the meantime, she'd turned to both what was available to her and her long memories of Mios long gone, fighting as Ouroboros and collecting Blades beyond her own. She'd found herself led to the Rogue's Guild, and found comfort in having a weapon in each hand, even if they weren't truly hers.
"I'm good to go," she says softly, taking her hands from her daggers. "Lead the way."