This one took a bit of thought. Picked one female and one male but you can ignore one if you think she wouldn’t be attracted.
For men, I would choose Buscarron. Amiable guy who shares a good many of her hobbies by needs of his profession. Meets people of both many walks of life and cultures in his bar, so while he probably doesn’t travel much anymore one can still learn much of the world by his side.
For women, Y’mithra Rhul. Putting two scholars together sounds like a solid idea. They already know each other and share interests and hobbies from the sound of things. Who better to learn about world histories with than archaeologist.
Runner up is Carvallain. He’s an intelligent and experienced traveler. They may or may not have a history due to Rowena’s previous job at Mealvaan’s Gate.
Hi hi!! 👋
What an interesting grouping :)c
Alternate Love Interest: Buscarron
He's a stand-up guy, genuinely, but I fear he might be a touch too old for Rowena. She doesn't dislike him, certainly, and they're amiable for the times they meet, but I don't think anything could ever come of it, alas 😔
Alternate Love Interest: Y'mhitra
I LOVE Y'MHITRA....... Rowena's fairly certain she's straight but I love Mhitra so she deserves a chance 🤣 I think they could be cute but it might actually cause some small rift with Shtola because Rowena doesn't quite grasp the family dynamic. As it stands now, though, they're good friends and will remain so.
Unrelated but Y'mhitra deserved voice lines in HW. Just sayin'.
Alternate Love Interest: Carvallain
You are right on the money that there's a ~*history*~ -- which is that Rowena finds him a nuisance who *has* tried flirting with her before but it went straight over her head and after a while he stopped trying 🤣 in another world though, the reveal of who Carvallain is could have been an interesting catalyst, because she does sympathize with him. Not sure if it'd be sustainable, but certainly interesting.
Thanks for such interesting options @kannedia! I really had to think on these!
Send me an OC and an alternative love interest and I'll tell you what I think of the match!
With Igey’s presence, the ghosts of Howler's past had seemed to quiet down. Every corner before her had been filled with shadowy reminders, wisps and whispers, of the dangers that lurked beyond. Of danger that was looming ahead.
But between Pipsqueak forcing Howler to look at the present, Igey’s questions keeping Howler from spiraling, the chance encounters with strangers – Howler hadn’t been able to let themself really immerse into their past.
Until now.
Thunder rumbled far above, making idle threats of rain. Not that Howler needed an audio cue – their arm did just fine job warning them of the incoming cold that would override the ever-present chill in their bones.
And yet, Howler didn’t move from their perch. They waited on Igey – who was inside, negotiating some floorspace for the night. Until the worst of the storm was over, at the very least.
Howler, however, couldn’t step in. Not yet. Not when a memory rolled in, and the Elezen realized they needed a moment alone.
This wasn’t the first time Howler had been here, nor even the second. First time had happened back when both their arms were still of flesh, when the Shroud had gone quiet for the most part – aside from the very depths, where the dead roamed, forever grins on their bleached faces and haunting echoes of their last words were repeated like a broken record. Distorted and warped, like a stretched out recording overlaid with sounds no throat should produce.
They had been traveling with someone who they had shared blood with, even if the quantities were on a smaller scale than their parents. Godfather, was the role the said parents had asked for. Mentor, was the best the man could offer when it truly came down to it.
It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, but the Gyr Abanian dust-storms have forced them to divert and take shelter in a rundown tavern, where the only patrons had been scars on the walls and the soft whispers of the wind for the past few years. Until they had arrived and disturbed the peace, at the very least.
Howler had made a mistake. Not that they thought it as one, being a stubborn teenager at the time who was carrying a legacy far too big for them. They had struck a deal with one most people would’ve called a devil, and Howler didn’t need their powers of empathy to taste the disappointment in the air when they had told everyone at the Station.
But that deal had saved their life, and had given them a new mentor – a mentor that could train them in an art no one else had mastered yet. A weapon that had been carried by Howler's father.
So no, Howler would not apologize for their choice. Not even if it meant their supposed godfather wouldn’t even look at them now – not that he ever did, not without a sharp feeling of pain, regret, loss following soon after.
Howler had always been a reminder of all they had lost, doubly so for him.
But the dragoon hadn’t been the only one to lose people, and Howler was starting to get tired of being the source of people's grief just because of how they looked. Of their blood relative in small ways to cloak himself in all that pain and loneliness like the armor he wore, making it so much harder to try and reach out.
To try and connect.
Howler could remember that night. How they had opened their mouth, to try and talk for once, pour their heart out, get the man to actually look at Howler. Not the ghosts in their face, in their eyes – but Howler.
A sound had alerted both of them before Howler had managed a single word. That was when the two had met the only survivor of these woods – if you could call the aging Qiqirn that. Time and trauma had robbed the poor creature of his wits and memory, but it had not taken away his genuine smile – aside from a tooth or three.
Teteroon, he had introduced himself as. Just a friend of the owner, trying to keep the place clean until ‘Buscaroon’ would return. The two Elezen were more than welcome to stay for the night, seeing one of them used “The same stabby stick to do the stabbings as Buscaroon!” according to the Qiqirn.
Howler had found an unmarked grave with a lance resting against it the next day, in the backyard.
“Sometimes, the memories we carry are a better reminder, than a grave. And we should never forget them for they are all we have left.” Their mentor had said, showing for the rare moment a sign of vulnerability. Maybe even grieving in their own way. Not that it lasted…
Howler had wanted to retort, bitterness on their tongue – but they had to keep the peace.
The duo left swiftly after.
Less than two years later, with more scars and ghosts in their ribcage, Howler had returned to the same spot – with regret and wariness of a soldier thrice their age, and an arm not wholly their own. Not yet. The hum of the ceruleum was foreign, and for a moment Howler had just wanted to return to a place where at least someone would look at them not as a fellow survivor or memory, but as just another person.
There was no warm smile, no wrinkly and twitchy snout to greet them that time. Howler stayed the night, all the same – wondering what would’ve happened if they had spoken up that day. If things had gone differently.
When Howler left the following morning, there were now two graves – and this time, both marked. One for Teteroon. And another for “Buscaroon”, as Teteroon had called him. Howler figured the man wouldn’t have minded too much, if it meant having at least some kind of marker.
Now however, Howler had learned that the man's name was in fact Buscarron. And he was one of the more respectable people in the forest, making friends with everyone who respected the rules of his establishment. No matter your background, or your race – you had gil, a story or service to offer, you were welcome under his roof.
Howler took in a deeper breath, looking up towards the thundering skies. It was odd feeling, being back here-
“Hey kid!”
Foreign voice. Jovial, friendly, if not a little weathered by time. drinking and experience. Howler looked down, towards both familiar and not so familiar faces.
Igey was standing right below, arms crossed, next to a Hyur Howler didn’t recognize right away. Dark hair, eye-patch, smirk that was somewhere between inviting, friendly, and concerned. “The drinks are better indoors! Your friend here already talked me into letting you stay until the worst of the lightning and gust is over, so you might as well join her!”
Igey actually gave a smile, close to one as could be considered, with a quirk of her lips at one corner.
Howler blinked, surprised, confused… but then smiled a little, giving a nod. They still didn't like crowds, but… There was something so genuine in that invite, that caused Howler to drop their guard ever so slightly.
“Sure. Give me just a moment to get down.”
Maybe they could ask their Viera follower to join as well?
She had completed her work for the day earlier than she had expected. It was a nice small victory. One that meant she had the time to work on one of her personal projects.
There was also a lovely melody filling the walls of the Rising Stones. Which was a good sign that the base was near empty of people. Iskra would only bring out his lute to play if there were few people to hear it.
This wasn't always the case. As far as Tataru knew, Iskra used to only play when he was alone or if the rumors were correct at Buscarron's tavern on rare nights. Which was a real shame. It seemed as though he had a real talent for it. She had expressed such to him when she had accidentally heard him for the first time.
Iskra had frozen when he had noticed her. His face had turned odd when she spoke. In hindsight, she couldn't help but wonder how often he had heard such words. So she had apologized for startling him, then repeated her praise.
He didn't play his lute for the rest of the day. Or week for that matter. Then one day, when she was alone with her paperwork, she heard a distant song. It sounded like it was coming from the storage in the back corner.
She didn't investigate. Tataru made no comment and continued on her work. The next time they found themselves alone in the base, the music was closer.
Tataru smiled to herself and turned her attention back to her sewing work. Iskra was just behind a screen now, or so she guessed. She could only hope that one day he would be brave enough to play in front of the others. Until then, she would continue to support her friend as best she could.
Tataru truly loved these types of days. She hoped Iskra did too.
Buscarron set down the glass he was polishing with a frown. ’Back again, Alainaux Revient? Did I not say you were barred for good from Buscarron’s Druthers?’
Alainaux seated himself at the bar. ’I did not know the hospitable Buscarron was in the habit of turning away his patrons.’
’My friend, you are no habit, but a phenomenon all your own.’
’Now there’s a compliment. What have I done to be thus singled out?’
’You know well of what I speak. We are even yet repairing the furniture after the quarrel your last visit occasioned.’
A faint smile touched Alainaux’s lips. ’I was not even present for the brawl you speak of.’
’Nay, you set the whole room a-brawling, and paid your bill and took off into the air again, as cool as you please. Just as you do every time you visit.’
’Their depradations had naught to do with me,’ said Alainaux. ’I’m hardly to blame for the rest of your clientele.’
Buscarron snorted, and set to polishing the bar with great energy. ’A likely story! We’re accustomed to rows and such out here, but I’ve never seen the like of what you stirred up.’
’Be that as it may,’ said Alainaux, ’the night is young, and I see no-one here yet. I have travelled long malms and my throat is parched. Would the Buscarron I know turn a thirsty traveller out into the woods?’
’Very well,’ said Buscarron, in a resigned tone. ’But we’ll have none of your wranglings and philosophisings, do you hear?’
Alainaux looked amused. ’I give you my word.’
Buscarron set down his polishing-cloth and seated himself. ’At any rate,’ he said, ’not once other people come in. I’ll not deny I’ve had a hankering to hear your tales again myself.’
“Aye, there’s been talk of a sylph lurking hearabouts, but I couldn’t rightly say if it be the elder you seek. Those woodland scamps all look alike. Short of painting one red and another one blue, most folk would struggle to tell two of ‘em apart. Stay awhile and eat. You may very well stumble upon this elder of yours.”
Another day, another bunch of deliveries to make! But before Omimi and Peckles head out on adventure, this next part is a secret, and you can’t tell anyone, especially not the Empire!
Okay?
Okay.
So, One Fear doesn't like to talk about it, but he's an Ala Mhigan patriot, through and through, and Odders 'N Ends has supported the Resistance since it opened up! Here we have a super secret rendezvous at Little Ala Mhigo between Omimi and a nice young man named Arenvald!
From the sands of Thanalan to the cool shade of the Black Shroud, time to deliver a shipment over to Buscarron in his Druthers. ...What is a druthers anyway? It doesn’t sound like it should be an alehouse name? But who’s Omimi to question someone’s preference?
That’s another two down! But while she’s here, Omimi’s going to have herself a drink or two. Remember not to drink and drive, Omimi. Peckles will thank you for it. ‘til next time!
