[sugar] - What’s their favorite way to be sweet?
In the depths of the Shroud sat a middle-aged gentleman. Even he,embellished in a very distinguished and – dare he say it,sophisticated – sense of style, couldn’t help but to admirethe way the sunlight seeped through the canopy of trees above andaround him, nor the delicate, distant howls and chirps of potentiallydangerous wildlife.
Hewas never one for nature in his youth. He recalled his adventureswith delight! Set, often enough, far above the forests andsongs of nature – which he deemed rightly so, often elevated farhigher than common rabble – much of his life was spent in thedroning, humming confines of an airship. And a beauty she was,indeed. The distinct memory of adrenaline coursed through his veinsjust as much as his mind. Boarding other airships, narrowly escapingseveral bullets and several more daggers… but, alas, he was far tooold for that now, and too refined for it besides.
Heshifted in his sitting position, sighing in contentment as a soft,warm breeze brushed along his skin and rustled his elaborate finery.Finery, he was quick to add, earned from a life of adventure and –
Snap.
Drawnfrom his self-admiration, the Midlander turned with startled eyes towitness a woman approaching with confident strides, crushing erranttwigs beneath her heel. Delightful,he thought. An audience to revel in my elegance.
“Whatho, madam!” he called out, waving in an overtly friendly andwelcoming gesture.
Thewoman drew closer, and the sight of her gave him pause. A heavy coatflowed along with her long steps, exposing the Highlander woman’sstrong forearms. On her face she wore no expression – a flat andmuted mien that quickly brought with it an unsettling atmosphere. Fora moment, he swore he could feel the wind grow colder, but brushed itaside as temperamental Shroud weather.
“Isay, I didn’t expect to see somebody out here!”
Wherehe thought she would stop, she kept going. Long strands of dreadedlocks, blonde and bright in the sunlight, bristled as the Highlanderlurched forward and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. In aninstant, he was lifted, his feet dangling. Despite the evident alarmin his voice, he enforced upon himself a calm expression.
“Nownow, there’s – you can take all of my gil, there’s no need to beviolent.”
“Tellme where she is.”
Thewoman’s voice instantly sent chills down his spine. Monotone, barrenof all inflection or accent – and immediately familiar.
“M-missBlacke, my, you’ve changed your hair! I d-dare say it suits you!”
Hefelt the woman’s fist tighten around the linen of his shirt.
“Surprise!”
Rona grinnedbroadly, offering her wife a few twirls for effect. For moons, theElezen had insisted the woman do something with her hair; anythingbesides the tangled mess of brown and gold it had become. Tel watchedthe long swathes of brown dance through the air as the Highlandermoved – it had been done up in what she knew to be a traditionallyElezen fashion. Beads decorated its curls and braids, all tuckedneatly and precisely into place. She reasoned Rona had gone to greatlengths, and more than likely, great expense, to comply to herwishes.
It more than made upfor their argument the previous night. Tel knew her wife’s hair wasprecious to her, even if she did not understand why. Getting thewoman to style or cut it in any fashion was a nightmare. Knowing Ronadid so freely just for her made the Elezen’s heart skip a beat.
“I dare say itsuits you, my love.”
“Tellme where she is.”
Theemotionless string of words cracked, and beneath them lay anundercurrent of venom. Pure, unbridled rage was what he knew of RonaBlacke, the Black Wolf – once boss. A boss he had, in a slightmisstep, betrayed.
“I-Ihonestly couldn’t say, my dear!”
Thefamiliar shape of a gun barrel pressed against his stomach.
“Tellme where she is.”
“H-honestly,you don’t mean to –“
Thegunshot shattered the peaceful silence, sending birds scattering in asky filling panic, drowning out the sophisticated man’s cry.
“Y-youshot me in the –”
“TELLME WHERE SHE IS.”
“Y-you’lllet me live if I do? Won’t you?”
Thewoman nodded, her golden eyes ablaze with something he dare not lookat for more than a passing second. Could he sell out his closest friend?
“She’swith the Garleans,” he whined, massaging the new hole in his thigh.“I-I don’t know where she’s based but she –”
Heyelped as he was dropped, hitting the twigs and grass of theclearing’s floor. He peered up, quite sure of his safety, to meet theend of the Highlander’s weapon. His eyes grew with fear, and he wasnot able to splutter out even one more word before she pulled thetrigger.
“Goodenough.”
