Sideblog for character info and babbling

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

New stuff!

Gail is now on RP Hub! My friends dragged me into it, and it was a lot easier to decide how much to put down about my prickly, awkward girl. If you want to check her out, she's at

https://rphub.co/ch/3817

Gail Dotharl | RPHub

Practical Prickly Awkward Odd

And while you're there, you can also have a look at the other girls I'm bringing out to play, Megumi and Lisette.

https://rphub.co/ch/3844

Miru no Megumi | RPHub

Another busy busy day

https://rphub.co/ch/3829

Lisette de Montaigne | RPHub

Abdicated Baroness

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Cracks

She moved from the dining room to her office. It was familiar, routine, when she didn't need to be at the House of Lords, her office was the place she spent most of her time. Projects. She was writing…what was she writing? She couldn't remember. It must surely be something important, or she wouldn't spend so much time on it, but she couldn't remember. The page in front of her seemed gibberish.

Wait, no, she knows this. A code. Why was she writing in code? Nothing in front of her was secret. No one cared where she went or who she spoke to. What was she doing?

One ear swiveled toward the door, and her body took on the slight lean and sway that kept people from asking the wrong questions as someone she should know tapped on the frame. The woman's words took a moment to turn into sense— "boss". That was her. The woman works for her. "Luncheon." What was that? The word had a meaning once, she knew it did, but it shouldn't be spoken in a too-gentletreble murmur, it was supposed to come from a cheerful baritone, and the person who said it had a different name for her.

She had so many names. Different names to different people, but the one she wanted to hear isn't there anymore. It goes together, name and voice and word and intent and… oh. She needs to eat. Someone went to the trouble of setting out food, it was only polite to eat.

She lurched to the dining room, uncoordinated and stiff, her face trying to hold the pleasant, polite expression she owed the people around her while her body stumbled listlessly to drop into her seat. Not her usual, deliberate gracelessness intended to put people at their ease, but the clumsiness of a marionette being puppeted by a novice.

There was soup, in a dish in front of her seat. Soup, soup, what was it about soup? He was impressed with the soup, with always having soup with a meal, even though it was almost always miso. She didn't like to cook, but he did. Was that why he…oh.

She'd hired a cook. Because he wasn't there. He wasn't there, and the people who live in her house need to eat that's part of the contract she makes sure her people are fed and she hated cooking and the one who loves it wasn't there. The spoon clattered to the table, leaving a spot on the white tablecloth, followed by another as it bounced off her white skirt and she didn't care because she'd remembered she'd *remembered* she'd ***remembered*** — the letter.

The frantic days of travel.

The spine-curling *pity* in the faces of the port authority when they confirmed her worst fears.

Her pleasant, polite expression became a rictus as every nerve in her body went dead all at once, and the Miqo'te noblewoman sat frozen, unseeing eyes staring straight ahead as her forgotten soup grew cold.

After half a bell passed, someone in a uniform took the bowl away without her even noticing. It was more than a bell longer before she blinked a few times, settling her mask back over her face and eyes and went back to her office. Wasn't she supposed to be writing something?

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Melancholia

I've spent more time organizing my pictures these past couple weeks than I think I've spent even looking through them since I started taking them. They were never really for me after all, they were supposed to be for the kits, to let them see the places I went that kept me away from home so often. But then we found out about Grandpere, and I had to clean up the mess, just like always… Maybe he's right, maybe there's some kind of sacrifice to it all, but thinking that way feels like I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I'm not supposed to do that.

I'm not supposed to do a lot of things.

I'll just have to be better. I know my partner says perfect is the enemy of good, but he isn't here and I can't afford not to be perfect anymore. I have to get everything right, first try, never explain why I do things a certain way, not let my scars show. Not burden other people with things that have nothing to do with them. Not talk about myself. Be the perfect listener and ask questions about them and the things in their life and let them think I have no great difficulties. And absolutely never ask for help. Asking for help means explaining what's needed and why and that isn't permitted. And I have to just know how to do everything correctly. I didn't know there's a right way to grieve, but clearly there must be since what I've been doing is the wrong way. Maybe it's that "fake it until it is true" thing I've heard people talk about. If I can convince myself I don't miss them, maybe I'll stop?

It's as good a theory as anything else I've thought of. I've already lost one friend trying to ask for help in not seeing them all the time though, and I'll probably lose another as soon as he realizes that he's the kind of person people like being around, so he doesn't really need me. And it's my own stupid fault, for not asking the right way, for talking about myself. I thought they wanted to know, they SAID they wanted to know, but they didn't. And I didn't even get into a lot of the things really wrong with me. If a couple stupid anecdotes are enough to shut down conversations, I clearly don't need to share anything about myself.

But I still don't know how to stop seeing them at the edges of a crowd. I'd give a lot, to be able to see them— for real, and not just a trick of the light or my mind. When I was sorting my pictures for some to share, I set aside all the ones of my friends, to put in their own album. I knew I had a lot of my partner, but I was surprised at how many I had accumulated of all of them. Enough to fill three books by themselves. I wonder how they've changed, since these pictures were taken. I wonder if I'll even recognize them, if I see them in person again.

[wolquestion]

5/24/26

Does your wol(oc) have or will have any kids? who are they?

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Gail has no children, despite the best efforts of many well-intentioned (and sometimes not so well-intentioned) friends and relatives over her entire adult life. She doesn't want any. She is much MUCH happier being an aunt. As she puts it, she get all the joy of seeing children, plus the vitally important ability to give them back.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Recalibrate

It's funny. I never really think about taking breaks, even though people tell me I should fairly often. A change is a good as a break, or that's what Grandmama always said, and there's always so much that needs doing, or that I want to be doing, that even when I say I'm taking a break, I end up just working on something different. A treatise or dissertation, or accounts for the Estate, or something to do with one or another of the businesses. But…I didn't take any of my materials with me. And somehow, it was alright. No panicked pearl calls at first light with something that needed to be handled immediately, no urgent intelligence reports that need verification before committing a team to field operations…

I was worried about the Agvas not knowing how to live in peacetime, but maybe it's just as true of me. I think… I think I overcorrected, when they told me how many people they ended up needing to cover for me, but in the wrong direction. Instead of handling more, I should have been delegating for years now. I don't need to have my little birds everywhere anymore. Although letting all that work I put in to assemble them— and all the extra work I did to rebuild the web, after everything went to shite— letting it all come to nothing goes against the grain. But… I can still have them watch and listen, without needing to act on every little thing that happens. And I probably shouldn't. Don't want to turn into the next lunatic after all.

All the same, I am what I was shaped to become, and I can't say I hate it. I know my life is incredibly privileged, in so many ways. I've built the wealth and influence to effect meaningful change, to improve so many lives in these homes I was never born to. And I didn't die in a war that never needed to be fought. That's not nothing. I have the space to decide who all the mes who live in my skin will be, and how much of any of them I permit others to meet. The Lady and the Academic and the Warrior and the Intelligencer and the Amateur and the Wanderer… it took me too long to realize it, but they're all me. All true faces, just not all OF the truth. Never all at once, except when he was here. No one else really ever wanted to see it all, they were happier just seeing one or two sides and pretending the rest were false. Masks, of some kind or another. Maybe that's why they all drifted off, one by one. No, that's got to be the paranoia talking. I'm sure it was just a coincidence that they all left around the same time.

I am getting some hints though, that someone who's been missing for a long time might be back in the game. If true, that'll potentially be a lot of fun — it's not that often I have a decent opponent to play against. I'll have to watch for them in the usual circles.

It is strange how much better I feel, even after just a few days. Valnain wasn't like this, and i was there for a whiole bloody moon. Although that was rather ruined by that individual who kept pestering me. There was no pestering. Just companionable silence, and thoughtful conversations. And he didn't get offended, or assume *I* was, when I didn't have anything to say. Even a lot of my best friends don't appreciate quiet like that, it was a good change of pace. Almost makes me wish I could take him up on that offer. He doesn't notice the same kinds of things I do, which would make him a fantastic second mind when I'm investigating something. Maybe for things closer to home anyway…but no, that's selfish. I'm glad we're friends though. It's been a long time since I made a new friend. I was starting to think I'd forgotten how.

Right, that's enough of this. She's at it again, so I think… I thnk I'll take her to find some cafe, and get breakfast. That'll shut her up, if only from the surprise of it.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Meander

He's kinder than I think he realizes. Wrong, but… there's no real need to correct him. The heads of *all* Houses are placeholders after all— here to build on the legacy of those who went before, and prepare the way for those who come after. *Who* holds the title is immaterial, and when we do a good job, no one should praise us because that should be the expectation. When we fail, naturally, we need to correct our errors or be replaced. Because it's a job that needs doing, not for ourselves or our Names, but for the people who look to us for leadership and protection. But who actually does that job doesn't matter, in the grand scheme of things.

It was even kinder of him to suggest traveling with me. Especially with everything else in his life. I certainly can't think of many more reliable people to travel with, not that I currently know how to reach anyway, but I still can't take him away from everything in his life for no better reason than that I want to remember what it feels like to be the only one living in my skin. All the same, it's really nice, that someone would offer to pick up and go, just so I can too without being too terribly irresponsible. Even though my responsibilities aren't remotely his problem. He called me his friend. I've missed having more than one.

I don't really want to go back to the city yet, for all that I know I have to. But if it were up to me, I'd keep going —first to the abandoned library, to gather copies of everything I don't already have in my own collection, then to finish my survey of the Weeping City that kept getting interrupted. Maybe head east after that, see if I can't get clearance to properly investigate Skalla, although that's a whole mess of international red tape, and I'd really rather save that for when he gets home. So maybe not that. Maybe just spend a few days in Werlyt, they're turning into a bit of a tourist destination now, and I didn't get much chance to try any of the local cuisine when the lot of us passed through there a few years back. Didn't they say something about the fish…?

…?

How odd. I think I'm hungry. I don't remember the last time I was hungry. That can't be right though, I just ate.

It might just be the nicer weather. If he were here with us, he'd have caught a fine brace of fish, and probably found some way to grind that wild wheat I found so he could batter and fry them. I wonder if Jourdan has ever had fried fish. He'd probably like it. Although it might be too rich for him, if he doesn't eat much. He's too thin, for the work he does. Hopefully his father can help him get accustomed to eating regularly. I don't worry about him as much as I did, when we first met, but well… just like with my House, repairing the neglect of decades is not the work of weeks, or even months. Fortunately for him, he won't have to do it alone. Kami, just the few days we've been out here, and he's smiling more. Although I can't tell if he's happier, or just mirroring me. I have such a hard time letting my mask go, although I know I've let it slip at least a few times while away from the city. I've been happier out here. I'm almost starting to remember what it feels like to be enough.

I didn't really think he'd be interested in old gossip like that though. I appreciate him listening all the same, even though he was probably dreadfully bored. Or maybe not, I suppose it is the kind of story that catches the imagination when it's not your family it happened to. For me though, it's just a lesson that no matter how much I might love and respect someone, I need to remember they're still fallible mortal beings, and they'll do stupid things for stupid reasons if they let their emotions…or hormones, maybe, do their thinking instead of logic. Because I did love Grandpere. But Kami love him did he make stupid choices for most of his life. Although that's still better than what Kizson did.

I shouldn't say that, I sound like her. He wasn't stupid, he was hurting. They both were. People don't act rationally when they're in pain, everyone knows this. And maybe I also shouldn't judge, since I never lost anything I cared for enough to hurt like that. Maybe I am defective, for not caring that much. Maybe that's why everyone lost touch, because I didn't care enough, or in the right kind of way.

Stop that. Last thing I need is to lock my mind into some maudlin spiral out here. Especially not when things are getting better for the first time in years. This is still the most relaxed I've been since we went to Tural. And I didn't even realize how much weight it all is until I set it down for a while. Which is why I'm writing all this down. I shouldn't spend another couple years before I let myself take a proper break, even if it's only for a few days. And I really need to make sure I keep meeting people. They surprise me every single time. I think I will do the thing I thought of. I don't know if he'll like it, but he deserves someone who's really good at it to take care of it, plus… I already know most of the worst of it. So he won't have to worry about what I might think, the way he would if it's a stranger. Not to mention that I just don't trust the so called training anyone else they might send has gone through. Not after what I saw with that woman.

How many lives have I lived, he asked me once. It still feels like just the one, but once in a while now… not always, but every once in a while… I wonder if maybe I'm living more than one at the same time. If I still need to — or if I ever did. But not the way I think he meant it. I'm just interested in so many things, one life doesn't seem like enough to satisfy myself, if I am to fulfill my obligations as well.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Reflection

Kami, what a day. I didn't expect to have as much fun as I have, and there's at least another day or two before anyone will expect to hear from me. I've *missed* this, being able to set aside House and Name and Legacy for a while and just… be me. No expectations, other than that I be honest about what I can do; no one worrying over my well being… For all that I do love the game of it all, and I'd never want to give it up completely, I understand better why Agva Khu was worried about me when she heard I was to take up this role. It's one more mask, and I wear so many as it is. I think she was afraid I might forget who I am underneath them all. And… I didn't even realize it, but if that is what she was concerned about, she was right to worry. Maybe. Probably.

There's nowhere in Coerthas I can set my title aside, not completely. Even if I don't tell people who I am, I still have to behave in a manner befitting the thirty eighth Lady guarding Ventefort March. And since he left, I haven't been able to set that aside except for short visits with my sister. Not completely. Not even with my closest friends. Everything has a political component, and I don't know how not to consider it, even just for a few minutes. While that's almost certainly a good thing for the people I'm beholden to, it's isolating for me as a person.

Kami love me, I need to just get out of Coerthas more often. Although, I'm not sure where else to go. I need to meet more people though, that's the long and short of things. She's right about that, having ONE friend (who's even busier than I am) and one friendly acquaintance that I speak to with any kind of regularity isn't healthy. Or fair to them. And spending bells every day writing to people who never write back is doing strange things to my mind. I can make up excuses for them— hells, I have been, for years now— but at the end of the day, nothing changes the fact that I never hear from them, or of them. So…. maybe I shouldn't write them, unless something big happens. Something that would affect them. Not my beau, naturally, he told me he wants to know everything. But the rest of them … Maybe it's time to start letting them go. And if we happen to meet once again, that will be a happy event.

And I definitely need to go places I can meet new people. Not 'appropriate social events' tailored to ladies of my rank, but just… places. I need to make more friends. Even if I am prickly and odd, I was making progress there, for a while. I just… I'm not sure why I stopped going places. I haven't had much energy. I don't think I even noticed it, until just now. What a difference a change of scenery and air that doesn't need to go through three scarves to keep from turning to knives in my lungs makes.

When he wakes, I should make a trip back to Tailfeather. I'm pretty sure they have a levemete there, and even if they don't I can get what I need to make proper game bags. And with a couple of those, we won't have to worry about getting everything back. I don't think we should cull any more bears, but there's also fish, and a lot of wild plants that I'm sure would be welcome additions to his stores. Besides, those bags also preserve whatever is put in them, so there'll be less waste. I don't know why I didn't just bring a few from home, I still…oh. Right. It was because they're not at the Manor, they're at home. He would love this. Both the time away from people, in the quiet, and what we're doing it for. And he'd make the most amazing meals out of bits and pieces, make him laugh with his traditional folk songs… they would be wonderful friends. I'm certain of it. One more reason to wish he'd come back soon.

I can't just keep putting myself aside until he does though. I know what I need— a new project. A good one, ideally one that'll let me meet new people. While also doing the things I spent years learning to be good at. And I think I have an idea. It's not perfect, but nothing really is. And…with only a little luck, I might be able to get other people to collaborate, too. It really would be nice, to make more friends.

…Is this what people mean, when they say they're lonely?

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Respite

Always nice to get mail. Especially from someone I know, instead of the usual endless reports and business documents. Even if I'm to see him in a matter of days. For the moment though, it looks like they finalized the contracts for the shop, so they can finally start on the actual construction. That will be an enormous help, once they get at least the sales room and the greenhouse completed the team there can begin interviewing for more help. I'll probably handle the lab myself until she's back from her leave though, since I don't have time to properly vet anyone new. And whoever I hire has to be willing to take her direction anyway, so it'll be easiest to let her find someone herself and only interfere if they don't pass my background check.

More good news, it sounds like that interesting young man has turned a corner in his treatment. Pity I haven't found a reasonable way to speak to him, and a greater one that I don't have actionable evidence to hold those responsible to account, but I HAVE been somewhat distracted. Since it appears that the matter is settling, I can get back to what I do best.

But not until after this brief outing. They're both right, I do need to take breaks, once in a while. Not that I'd ever say so where either one of them might hear, they'd be even more insufferable than they already are even if they do it out of concern for my well being. She should know better anyway, I've always found rest in activity. Well, ever since I was sent out here. But before that, we were children, she can't possibly expect a woman grown to have the same coping mechanisms as a child. And this is what some of my friends would call a "Gail-break" anyway. But it will serve a useful purpose. And to my mind, that is far better than sitting idle with my thoughts. I do too much of that as it is — as evidenced by the state of this journal.

With the Kami's goodwill, I might even get enough of a respite in the coming moons to return to that odd island off the coast of Tural, and see what more may be learned. I know most of the people investigating are there for lost secrets of applied aetherology, but to my knowledge no one else particularly cares about the other kinds of things that can be learned. Which, while frustrating…. It makes ample room for me to publish? A few years ago, I was delighted that there was no competition, but I'm beginning to think that's short sighted of me. After all, it's damnably difficult to get something peer-reviewed when I *don't have any bloody peers*. But… so it goes. If I am to find the time to go back though, I need to finish dealing with things here, and get far enough ahead that I won't be missed if I'm away for several weeks. So…back to it, for now.

[orionbun-wolqotd]

Is your WoL a night owl or a early bird?!

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Both. At the same time. Gail will go *weeks* without sleeping if she can manage it

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Continued correspondence

. . . Dates or times, if he wishes to speak in person once more? Does…does he not understand how written correspondence works? That it takes time for letters to be delivered, and then MORE time for a reply to arrive? Letters are not linkpearls.

I love and honor and respect my elder sister. And I much prefer to love and honor and respect her from three continents and two oceans apart. SHE believes that this lack of specificity is due to eagerness to see me again. How ridiculous. She is the one people seek out for no more reason than the pleasure of her company, and I suspect that distance has caused her to forget it. No one likes to be around someone like me, unless it happens that they need to know something. I'm certain this is the case in this instance as well. He said it himself - the last time we spoke together it was an instructive experience.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Analyze

I am not the best person to assemble this information. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, I am the best available. I am almost certainly biased by my own upbringing and ethics, but despite that I am also the one with the training to assess individuals and situations.

And that never to be sufficiently damned woman… I don't know if she deliberately left information out, that would provide a clearer initial description of the subject, if she is simply so close to the subject after so many years' proximity that her own analysis is compromised, or if she's playing a deeper game.

Because what I'm seeing looks a whole damned lot like what someone might do if they wanted Ishgard out of the Grand Alliance. And they wanted to distract the eyes who might notice before it's too late.

So… begin with the consistencies. He did not dispute anyone the initial dossier. Didn't confirm it, either, but he did say he had expected I would have been provided with a list of the tasks he was set to accomplish. But from what she said, and what I read, the more relevant information is what neither thought to include. The things that were done to him.

I should at least attempt to find out more details, though if the fanatic had those responsible removed once they achieved the results he desired, it will be difficult. If the subject is not willing to speak of it, it will be impossible. But the more I know, the easier it will be to—

To what, I ask myself. I need to remember that the subject is not my friend. He has shown little indication that he even wishes to be, and for all my confidence that he is not one to kill without cause, I am still well aware that I haven't the first idea what he considers to be adequate "cause". Still, there is something… I feel connected to him, for good or ill. It defies reason, and that alone would be enough to mistrust it, but there are other factors as well.

For all my pragmatism, I still try to find a path in times of difficulty that will allow the greatest number of people to simply choose for themselves. People must be free to make their own decisions and handle the consequences — that is the center. When someone cannot decide for themself, or cannot act on their decision, or is insulated from the consequences, they are being treated as things. And that… that is evil. I dislike using that word, it is seen so often it's meaning is diluted, but… with this definition, I will permit it into my vocabulary.

With this definition, I can see that the subject was a victim of those who raised him. Much as others I have observed have been.

…

Kami, what is wrong with me? I have investigated, I have passed on the things I learned to those who have a need to know, so why can I not let him pass from the forefront of my mind and get back to my other projects? Has my solitude made me morbid, that a part of my mind wishes to know all the wretched details? No, not that at least. I don't think. The more I know the more I can use, but I don't think it is needful to pry beyond what he wishes to tell me going forward.

Why would he wish to tell me a damned thing?

He likely will find other, better people with whom to bond, no matter what that idiot woman thinks. The Kami know I'm hardly a suitable person for someone just learning to embrace personhood to associate with. I'm too .. too me. I wish him well, though. And I hope he and his father are able to connect, to build a healthy relationship.

She looked over the ciphered page in her journal with an inelegant snort of a laugh. It was supposed to be an analysis of the man she'd been asked to investigate. How had it turned to an analysis of herself? She considered burning the leaf, but something stopped her. She kept this journal so she could always remember. And even if she didn't know why this was important just yet, Grandmama always said that no knowledge is ever wasted. That surely applied to self knowledge as well, right?

Right?

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

The Other View

After her sister had gone and the children asleep, the little matron sat on a cushion and turned the small wooden figurine over in her hands.

For all its simplicity, it captured her sister perfectly - the illusion of motion that hid a coiled stillness, a readiness to act, rather than react, at the slightest need. And she'd said that the sender had been in her city for a mere fortnight? She was either being observed more closely than she'd realized, or else this stranger was more observant than most. Even those who had known the sisters from their birth often struggled to see the younger clearly, for any of many reasons. Another point of similarity between this unknown man and the missing one, though she suspected that to tell her sister at this early juncture would only unsettle her further.

For a moment, she let herself be drawn into the past. That terrible, terrible spring and summer after they'd turned nineteen, when she'd come home from an extended visit with Lukh-san to find Yuri barely a shell of herself. And everything that had come after. They'd had to postpone the wedding, of course, and Lukh'ir didn't complain, but even years later she couldn't believe that even she had been so blind as to let it happen. When they put her on that ship, she wasn't entirely sure her sister would survive to make port. But she couldn't stay there. And she wouldn't let Lukh'ir touch her, with either his hands or his aether. So they'd sent her off, to the lands Grandpere had called home in his youth, and prayed that they would know her, if she somehow returned.

Then, weeks before her ship could have possibly landed, the moon fell.

Even in Hingashi, half the world away from where it had landed, they'd felt the effects. The tides were unsettled for more than a year, just as a beginning, and many of the effects needed adjusted for, both physical and aetheric. And no matter how frantically she searched, she could get no word of her sister — whether the ship had even landed safely, to say nothing of if Yuri had survived the journey — for even longer. Lukh-san said that if something had happened, she would know, but that had much more the feel of a comforting lie than anything Shida could have confidence in. After all, 'something' had happened to turn her lively, engaged, fascinated-by-everything younger sister into the withdrawn, fearful husk they'd sent off, and she hadn't seen it when it was right in front of her face until there was a corpse in the bedroom. And their father was no help at all, he acted as though she was mad each time she'd reminded him that he'd had two daughters. She sometimes suspected that he'd arranged it that way on purpose, but Lukh-san had insisted that such thoughts were only her own fears and anger talking. It didn't stop her from thinking them.

When she'd finally come home, she was different. Subdued and focused, but she hid it, matching the energy of whatever room she found herself in. She'd had friends with her, but none of them called her by her name. None of them even seemed to know it. And she'd asked her family not to use it either. Chisai tori, little bird, the name Grandmama had called her by, was permitted, but she didn't even acknowledge anyone who addressed her as Yuri. In some very real ways, the twin she'd grown up beside might as well have been dead, and a stranger came home in her place.

"She's come so far," Shida mused, coming back to the present as she ran light fingers over the smooth waves of the figurine's gown. "And still hides from herself as much as from outside eyes." Not everything, of course. Grandmama's training wouldn't let her hide or ignore many things about herself. But she genuinely believed, down to her marrow, that her only value lay in the tasks she could accomplish for others.

Malloy had begun to challenge that misconception, to be sure. The man had pursued her sister with the single mindedness of any bird of prey, and Yuri had begun to heal, as a result. Truly heal, rather than simply hiding the parts of her wounded mind that still bled. Shida knew, even if the man had never realized, just what it cost her sister to so casually let him touch her. To reach out for him, in turn. And then he had gone, off to "somewhere in Ilsabard" to help with the rebuilding, and Yuri had begun to slip away once more. Her friends were scattered, her lover away, and the responsibilities of the title she'd never been prepared for kept her from more than the occasional visit even with what was left of her family. It was little wonder she ate little and slept less, the wonder was that heartsickness had not yet gotten her confined to an infirmary.

And now… now someone new saw her. But did he see her for who she is, or only a reflection of who he wished her to be? Shida puzzled over the distinction for a long time before finally placing the figurine back on the high shelf Yuri had optimistically chosen as suitably out of reach of small, curious hands. The next day would be busy. But the answers she hoped to gain would be well worth the effort.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Reaction

A carving. He sent me a carving. He must have made it since last night, that's a decent approximation of the gown I wore, but… did she put him up to that? Does she know? How could she know, no one knows about that except us. Not even the Agvas know, not even jiejie knows… Is she holding Him somewhere? Is that what's keeping Him from coming home to me???

No, that's insane. It's impossible. The setup is too complicated, she was trained the same as me to keep moving parts to a minimum when trying to manipulate others. It's a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence. If it isn't a coincidence I'll kill her. I'll kill them all. What's six more names in my book? Or even sixty? If I have to add Him to my book, his name will not be entered alone. I do not trust vengeance, but if someone did something to Him… even though he wouldn't approve. I would make an exception. For me. I know it's for me, not Him.

It has to be a coincidence. I'm glad I met with her before this showed up though. I can't be objective, now. One week. One BLOODY week, and I'm seeing Him more and more when I speak with that man. I don't know who I can call on who can see clearly. Everyone's scattered, and the handful here are just as biased as I am. Just in different ways. And worse, there's no one I can tell what it is that's so disquieting to me. Principle says to look at him for himself, and the Kami know I'm trying, but how can I do that when the things he does in my presence are reflections of the one I care most for, above even my own well being? But the others I would trust to evaluate him have already judged him for the results of his actions, rather than hearing his reasons.

I know who to talk to. She'll help me focus. And seeing Them will work wonders on my mind, They always do. But I should write back first. It probably isn't his fault that he keeps making me think of the one I miss like my own breath. That's my own failing. And I won't be so cruel as to exacerbate his self doubts when something as simple as a letter might assuage them.

Now if I can only keep my own mind in order.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Grace

We're so similar, I sometimes forget how very different we are. This is no bad thing, but a recurring pattern I've noticed with many of my friends - we usually get to the same *decision* but the logic and reasons come from wildly different directions.

At least in this matter, I was prepared for a…. vigorous disagreement. Unlike that matter last moon, Kami bless, *that* caught me off guard. He took it better than I was honestly expecting, but I worry that he's focused more on who the man is rather than why. Is this a Coerthan thing, culturally speaking, that parentage be more important than choices, or is there something more personal going on? No matter, I doubt I'll ever find a good time to ask, and it isn't all that important just now.

Of course, I also understand choices made under duress much more…closely, than most of the other people I know. How, if no one ever let you see that you have choices, you miss things that are obvious to people who are accustomed to them. How much more difficult choosing well becomes when the first thing you hear from the ones you turn to for support with *any* deviation from the appointed path is "but why didn't you do *this*?" Because as….well intentioned as those questions generally are, they seldom have the grace to simply accept that you perhaps didn't know their suggestion was even an option. Much less a good one. And when those questions come after the matter is settled, if posed indelicately, they can serve to paralyze rather than to expand horizons.

I hope I'm right, about the man who approached me being one and the same as the one I was asked to help with. I am trying to keep them separate in my mind until I can confirm, but it's bloody difficult when they even use the same handles. No, I have to be overthinking it, they must be the same person. Where else in Ishgard am I going to find someone with "one" skill, who doesn't know how it can be of help to others?

I wasn't going to agree to… what did he call it? Letting him treat me to something? I'd still rather not, if I'm honest with myself - I can more than afford anything I might want or need, but… I get the impression that he's seldom wanted to do things for other people. As long as it's something small, I can swallow my discomfort. But… a small selfish shameful part of my mind does hope that he writes. Not to give me better understanding of who or what he's becoming, but just… for me. I send so…so many letters. To all the people I can't see regularly. It would be nice to receive one, once in a while.

It would serve me right, if he doesn't. I'm not here to be his friend. Not yet, anyway. I'm here to open a door. If he chooses to walk through it, maybe then we could build a friendship. If he wants to, once he knows the truth. I need to time things right. I need to be the one to tell him, before she does. If she panics— panics worse than she already is, I suppose— I don't trust what might come out. And if he turns, if he runs… I don't have enough information to forsee the path.

I hope I can put the pieces together before it comes to that.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Build-up/Release

After her companion left, Gail finished her meal slowly. Certain turns of phrase he had used clicked in her mind like keys, the subconscious recognition of tiny details that she knew from experience would come together hours or days later. For the moment though, she trusted that instinct, choosing caution over convenience.

Instead of following any of her usual routes home with her business concluded, she made her way to the Gates, and from there to Providence Point where she could activate one of the aetheryte tickets she made in her spare time without being observed.

The house was dark when she arrived. No surprise, she'd made sure to douse the lights after she'd cleaned the place up just a few days prior, but with the weight of memory in her mind, it made her feel a bit less like the person she'd become, a bit more the one she used to be. She made her way to the swinging chair in the garden corner and lit a single lamp as she curled her small self into it. The shadows in this home they had built together were friendly. Comforting. If she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself that he was there, baritone singing some local folk song or anything popular he'd heard on the docks while he made dinner, or worked on his book, or carved some beautiful trinket out of a scrap of driftwood. Almost…

She stopped herself harshly. That way lay madness, and she had responsibilities that wouldn't wait. On top of which, this… favor. She'd recognized the blond's desperation, despite the way she'd tried to hide it, but cooperation had been in such short supply before that for the other woman to call on her of all people was suspicious. And something she couldn't identify was bothering her as well.

She fell into a light doze, only waking at the sound of a courier leaving something at the door. She still felt details clicking in her head, sorting themselves into their proper places, and knew that she would have a clearer view once she filled in the blanks. She might be walking into a trap, but she was reasonably confident that the other woman didn't know even a fraction of the resources she could assemble.

It was reasonable, after all. She'd been very good at her work, but not personable. When there was speaking to be done, it was usually Intent or Inspire who handled that. She'd been, quite frankly, too damaged at first, and Instinct too preoccupied. She'd heard someone once say that she had all the charm and allure of a week-dead yarzon, and she couldn't find any space to argue with their assessment. No point in arguing with truth.

But since then…. She'd found her voice. She'd given breath and blood to causes she deemed worthy, and clawed her way back to truly living. And though most of them were scattered like sakura petals at Hanami, she still had… Not allies. Friends. She stretched and made her way to the door, to collect the delivered package.

When she opened the door, the scent of the Sea hit her like a wall. She hadn't noticed it when she'd arrived, but it made her smile in spite of the dark direction of her thoughts. The Sea is always good, she thought, taking her delivery up to the flower-strewn deck to read in the sun.

The blond had been right. And was fortunate to be, presumably, malms away once she'd finished her reading. A massive storm was rolling in, and for once she was in no mood to control herself. She put the slim file in the sealed case her partner had built to protect the few books they kept on the deck from the weather and made her way to the peak of the roof.

With no one to watch her, she began to dance. Not the measured steps of a waltz, or the frenetic pace of a jitterbug, her movements were wilder than either. A primal screech of rage and grief for this man she didn't even know, but with her entire body rather than just her cracking voice. And her aether and the sky above responded, dousing the entire coast as the good west wind blew steady, to bend rather than to break, for hours without relief.

She came back to herself near sunset, and let the storm finally blow itself out. She knew her duty, in this case. She didn't have the first idea how to do it, but at least she knew what to do. Who she needed to tell. Primary and secondary and tertiary. But the coincidence was too suspicious. That she would be called on to help, and the two most urgent people that she needed to tell were both close to her? Another reason to be glad she'd been writing ofuda for years, calibrating the geometries to places both important and irrelevant as the mood struck her. If she needed to break a trail, not many could trace one without the physical object, to say nothing of three to five in sequence. And if that never to be sufficiently damned fanatic could well… she'd deal with that if it came to it.

She cleaned up the house and locked everything away before she left. This wasn't going to be pleasant or easy. But sharing the things people need to know wasn't, always. And if she didn't tell him- both of them, really, but the one was looming larger in her thoughts just now than the other- he would quite rightly never forgive her. Or trust her. She wasn't sure which prospect bothered her more.

It didn't matter though. She would be telling him. Both of them. And she would stay to deal with the aftermath… at least until she needed to go back to her primary assignment. She'd been asked for help after all.

And if that "help" ended up looking nothing at all like what the Lieutenant was expecting? She'd never actually said just what it was she wanted. And in the face of such imprecise requests, well… the woman who called herself Gail would simply be creative.

[murphys-ffxiv-ramblings]

Permutations

As she watched the blonde Keeper walk away, her mind was racing. When she'd first reached out, she had more than half believed it was a copycat, some rogue element trying to make the Fanatic in particular or Gridania as a whole look bad. Possibly an attempt to splinter the Alliance, now that the great wars were over. The original message had been a matter of courtesy, much as she would have offered to her counterparts in any of the other offices, no particular intent than the sharing of relevant information. The Agent had taken it personally of course, she still wasn't sure what the other woman's problem with her was, and since it didn't affect their working relationship she didn't particularly care beyond acknowledging that it existed at all.

But… she hadn't been expecting so much data, or to gain it so easily. She made herself remember that the Agent was far better at manipulation than she herself could claim, and catalogue each point as unconfirmed, at least for the present. Perhaps if she could get a decent conversation with the man in question, she could get confirmation, but he would likely be unreliable as well. So…. Call these details a starting point.

There were six of them, in all. The Fanatic, the Agent, the Target, and three others. Twice what she'd known about, but still a manageable number, particularly if the Agent was the bar for martial prowess among their number. She wasn't sure just how she'd held in her fury when the other woman had described the conditions the target had been raised and kept in, but she was fairly certain if it had been noted, it was underestimated. But she promised herself that if she could get through the immediate situation without painting a target on her own neck, the fanatic would not stain the world any longer than it took her to remove him. The others… would depend on what she learned.

Assuming this wasn't an elaborate trap. She had to remind herself that the Agent did not like her, and this could be a way of trying to put her in the path of their pet killer. But at least some of it was real. The woman was genuinely frightened for her own safety. And she had as much as admitted that all three events were at the fanatic's instigation. To stop another Calamity, she'd said. Far more likely that stagnation would cause it than unethical mining or travelers from distant lands. And if the fanatic's source was genuine, others would be acting as well. That they were not spoke to something else happening.

As the crowd swallowed the Agent, the watcher let out an unobtrusive sigh and chose her own path away from the docks. She had a laundry list of preparations to make, from warning the other one to reinforcing her Household to alerting her allies. That last one was the one that worried her more than anything else. She wasn't about to try and handle this alone, but while there were people she could call on for most matters, this was…more delicate than she often dealt with these days. A light touch…

Once outside the city, she called the great falcon that had been turned loose to hunt the island's plentiful megalocrab while she met with the Agent. She would check on their properties while she was here and wait for the Agent's dossiers. And not lock herself into plans until she knew what she was to be dealing with.

Multiple players working at cross purposes. She hadn't thought about it in years, but she'd missed this. She could feel the darksteel settling under her skin, the way it had when she had first been sent to this strange place, sharpening her mind and reactions and giving her more time to look at all the angles. She knew where to begin, and unlike her usual projects, this one mattered now. That had always made all the difference.

[who-gathers-darkness-as-a-shield]

Cipher

The sun was setting over broken stone blocks lightly dusted with snow. He followed whichever paths seemed the most interesting and the least likely to contain people who would talk to him. He was there only to observe.

At first, he kept to the shadows, as usual. He did not need to interact with the people to study them. Wearing a dark grey cloak that looked a little more natural among the stone walls, he flitted from one safe, dark vantage to the next. But what he saw gave him only more questions.

This was a level of poverty he had never seen before. The Twelveswood had many groups, most engaging in banditry, that were comprised of ‘outsiders’ such as Keeper of the Moon clans or Duskwights who faced too much discrimination within Gridania itself, or others who were too poor to make it there, by choice or by systemic oppression. But those people had ways to provide for themselves, like hunting and foraging. These Brume dwellers seemingly did not.

He had the ability to move soundlessly with the speed and distance that an adventurer might gain in a single leap, and this enhanced his stealth greatly. But it was less helpful in gaining a closer look at the scene. He tugged his hood down over his eyes and hopped down from the parapet to wander the streets proper.

Some things became evident quickly. Few houses had equipment suitable for hunting and fishing. He recalled that Coerthas had once been a temperate land. Perhaps the years since the Calamity had drawn attention away from such activities, especially given the dangers inherent in ice-fishing.

As he walked, he also noted how the city’s walls towered in many places and how the labyrinthine layout discouraged travel. One would have to leave the city in order to hunt or fish, or to grow anything. But if one had no transportation, warm gear, weapons to defend oneself, or even just strength to walk a fair distance, then one was precluded from getting oneself some of the Land’s free food. The cycle of systematic poverty was devastating.

There were tall bins lit with fires that broke the darkness deeper in the Brume and offered the denizens a measure of warmth. Many people gathered around them while warming their hands. Despite the bleak circumstances, the mood wasn't wholly desperate. In fact, some passersby even embodied a sense of lightness. Their lives might be hard, but they were going about them all the same.

Quiet yet firm words flowed from somewhere nearby:

Seeing backwards and forwards, my name's not important

But circumspection is perfection when cruelty is the moment

Your tomephone is glowin', but is you listenin' for it?

The past is whisperin', the future is hidden, but ain't the mission.

He did not move to track down the source of the words. He'd heard similar, if less poetic, ramblings from madmen. But moments after the voice faded, another one picked up the same rhythm, albeit with some stylistic differences.

My future's imminent. The fire's warm but I'm chillin'

But is you feelin' it? I'm bringin' the heat so you ain't illin'

It's clean like penicillin. These rhymes I'm slingin', they'll bring you healing!

Tell me I'm right, we here tonight, I ain't no knight but out here killin'.

The last line earned muted laughter from a few more voices. That meant the group was bigger than he had anticipated. The rhyming was picked up by a third voice, again with slight changes.

What's war without feelin'? Insanity right? And just depravity

Leavin' a hole in my heart, call that a cavity

All this dyin' young for nothin'. If I could change it, we'd all be livin' lavishly.

Or at least livin'. May our souls meet again, sister Chastity.

That was met with some quiet murmurs and heads bowed in respect. No one seemed eager to follow up. Eventually the last rhymer gestured to the only apparent woman of the group, whose voice marked her as the previous Penicillin Poet.

Oh you said chastity? Our sista knew ain't nothin' chaste about a system of caste,

Twenty gil on some bread and you hope it lasts,

Broken legs so you cope with casts,

Last in class, sittin' in back of the class,

Leanin' on walls like you think you passed.

She ended her rhyme with her gaze settled somewhere specific. The others all looked in the same direction.

Indeed leaning against a wall in the rear of the short alleyway, he hadn't realized anyone had noticed his arrival. The shadows thrown opposite the light of the fire should have made him more difficult to see. "'Sup," one of the other guys muttered in apparent greeting. The others waited. He just inclined his hooded head. Surely they did not expect him to offer up rhymes of his own?

A new guy spoke up just moments before the silence grew awkward. He affected a snooty upper-class Ishgardian accent, and the slight drawl slowed his rhythm a bit.

Aah, class, yes. Why, I tell you, of class I have so much!

Would you believe that gold is everything I touch!

You might even say that my wealth is a crutch!

But I've no trouble breaking spines to KEEP THOSE LOUSY BRUME RABBLE-ROUSERS OFF OF MY PROPERTY. UGH.

The entire group was doubled over in laughter by the time the parody was done.

"Lancelin, bruv, you gotta pull that one out more often," the first rapper wheezed.

"Why would I do that? It'd lose its effectiveness, and it's not like I'm as quick or clever as the rest of y'all," Lancelin returned.

"You would be if you actually practiced," the second guy opined.

The young men bickered for a bit before the woman cleared her throat. "Y'all lost the thread? Alright, but we can't quit 'til our shadowy new friend over there gives us some bars."

Everyone looked over at those shadows again, and they were answered with naught more than another head tilt.

"Then you pick it up, Liyah," the first guy answered.

"Sure." She lifted her voice, and it carried itself in gentle strength over the fire and the circle of friends, seeming to bear that same warmth to light the shadows:

It's nice here, I promise, it's ice here but it ain't

Always been cold, though these days the ice is like

All these kids know. But just like these walls wasn't

Always covered in snow, so these hearts have called

To ones who know, with warmth like the fire

Below our palms, these flames rising high

As our lifted spirits, called not by one

Or by five, but by ten, and by full intent.

Ten for the moons between birth and born,

Nine for the Warden who blazes the path,

Eight for the fashion when Eris is in town,

Seven steps upward where the Fury went,

Six in the chambers when you've been forewarned,

Five when you're adding the sweet supreme Math.

Four if I'm wrong and those shadows don't talk,

Three my poor soul from the embarrassment!

Her friends chuckled and scoffed at the wordplay (and number play), and she grinned, though the way that grin pinched at her cheeks did suggest there was a blush dampened by her dark skin.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried.

Two's company when it comes before one,

But three makes a crowd when it's said and done.

Four here in a group to share warmth around,

Five since you count random lurkers you've found,

Six for the elements that make up your heavens,

Consider it a gift that I brought y'all to seven.

There was a thin layer of rasp to his voice, as if it rarely saw use, but this seemed to matter very little to those gathered around the fire. Liyah raised her eyebrows while the men made generally approving sounds.

"Not bad, honestly…." The first one gave the cloaked figure a fresh up-and-down. "Where in hells did you come from? Thought I'd found everyone with an onze of talent or instinct in this hell of ice."

"Everyone with talent, and also Lancelin," the second young man whined. Lancelin shoved him.

Their interloper merely leaned against a wall that was slightly closer to the fire this time. This was why his voice was rough from disuse.

"You gonna give us your name, at least?" Liyah asked. She did not have any better luck at getting a response than her peers.

"Guess we get to name him, them," the second guy said.

At least they met with no opposition on that.

"He gave his own name," Lancelin said. "Seven. Breaker of Cyphers."

"He's gotta show up again and break another one to be called a breaker of cyphers, plural." Liyah answered Lancelin while looking at Seven.

"True that." The first rapper threw an arm each over the other man's and Lancelin's shoulders. "In the interest of fair trade — call me Spire. This one's Braxton, and that's Lancelin. Our sista goes by Liyah."

Lancelin stepped out of the casual embrace and dusted himself off. "I'll introduce myself next time. If I want to."

"Same." Braxton remained where he was, though. "You should know better than that."

"And you should know by now that the cypher only calls those who need it. Or whom it needs. That's how it works. Has it been wrong yet?"

"Not wrong," Braxton muttered. "But your beloved cyphers and maths can bring Chas back any day now."

Spire sighed but chose not to belabor the point. "Anyway—" He turned back to Seven, but the shadow-cloaked figure was gone from sight.

"You sure know how to pick 'em," Braxton drawled.

"I'm more worried about Liyah," Lancelin noted. "You've got the hots for that stranger and his dulcet tones already, don't you?"

Liyah narrowed her eyes. "Jealous?"

"Gods no. If anything, I'll thank him for distracting you off of me if he ever shows up again."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you."

The group's idle banter faded as they left the warmth of their fire to wander farther into the Brume.