He could say the same to me, and I won't deny that, but still ... hopefully it doesn't bite him too hard in the ass, given he's got a family, and all.
So, the Pearl is growing, I guess, which means they need more space to put everybody in, which means they had to relocate to a larger building, which means a great big shuffle to get everything moved to a bigger building. You never realize how heavy a couple tonzes of dirt actually is until you watch people try to move planter boxes about.
Coincidentally, I managed to scrape together enough gil from odd jobs and such to move my stuff into an apartment right near the stables Baby's staying at. I still made a point of scooping up one of the company rooms in the new place, but it's on the small side, more of an office you could maybe live out of rather than a proper apartment. Given the dimensions I think it was meant to be a broom closet, to be honest, but it's mine and I've never needed a lot of space.
Baby's doing better, by the by. I've not been writing, with everything going on, but yeah. He got over the bird sniffles without incident, and now he's actually big enough to train for riding, even flying. Right now he can only carry lalafell about, but a year or so and he'll be full-grown. That's not a lot of time to learn everything he ought, and being that I'm not an expert, I'll leave it to the experts.
My cycle came and went, with bad decisions as usual. Probably should just play like I'm deathly ill, bar myself in my room until it passes, but that never seems like a good idea in the moment.
Did you know, there's a word for the kind of magic we do? "Hemomancy," magic relating to the blood. One of the more common uses is to just do what we do, burn it to refill a dwindling wellspring of aether. From what I've heard, it's really common among blackbloods, too - being a dark knight is more about will and martial might than a mastery of magic. It's not impossible for an archmage to don full plate - it's just not terribly likely.
I lured out my stalker, finally. Quiet little thing, for a mandragora - it pretty much takes the fear of death to elicit a cry from it. I think of it as a 'him,' but I doubt seedkin think of gender the same way we do. They've got a language, all squeaks and gestures, nothing I could begin to emulate, but if I listen, I can understand.
Which is disorienting as fuck, when the person I'm talking with isn't even talking.
Cotota was really excited that I could understand what she wrote and what she meant, when she talked all in gestures. It feels shallow, somehow - I still don't know what the gestures actually mean, and I couldn't replicate them if I tried, but when she 'speaks,' if I listen, I can understand. It apparently extends to text, she wrote something in a Xaela script, and while she was writing it, I heard the words as though she were speaking them. She wasn't, though, is the thing - Cotota was Qestir, and they don't talk.
I guess they've got this idea that words are lies, which is only half-right, in my opinion. You can pick out the truth of a person by listening to how they say things as much as what they're saying. Only a fool listens only with their ears - there's more truth in how words are spoken than in what's really said.
Looking back, I remember that Au Ra fellow I met at the Bountiful Chest. He was so angry - he felt the Echo was a really invasive gift, the sort of thing that should be exterminated. He's not wholly wrong, is the thing - without the degree of control I've had to develop ... it's indisputable fact that the Echo does simply erase many of the barriers folk put up between one another. The thing is - those barriers exist for a reason. Many reasons.
No one should know how it feels to die until they've done it - and I do.
Thanks, Hydaelyn. I appreciate your "gift."
Mentioned: @gigantpole ‘s apartment, @blue-berry-lizard and @themidnightpearl
