Though scheduling is what got in the way, I was reminded tonight, that the last time I made it to @tea-ffxiv aka The Shroudrose Tea House I met my Lovely Snowcatte, who became my wife. Here we are thanking the lovely @fair-fae and Val for having been there when we met, and for giving The Snow Catte the chance to perform on their stage tonight for the first time.
It was a lot of fun, and it was a very happy memory to be reminded of.
Sketches of friends... C’sami Shekki, Faye Covington, and Nystus Aragosta. I love their beautiful and intriguing characters. It’s been fun to practice portraits here and there since they are nice little breaks from my projects.
Also it seemed like there was a little bit of interest in the last post, if you want a profile for your character (Seekr or Keeper) just shoot me a message with the relevant info/screenshot and I can make a mockup real quick!
There is a violence within you that calls to Us, a sweet song that plays in Our ears. Do you find it difficult to contain or do you let it out whenever you fancy? Would you use it in defense of those you love or would you wield it as a weapon against those who have wronged you? Such talent could be used, could be molded into something far greater. Do not turn from Our sight - let Us come closer. Let Us shelter you from the storm. Let Us save her just for you.
Pain. It was a universal feeling, Val had found. Everyone felt pain. And unless an individual was particularly messed up in the head, everyone largely wanted to avoid it. That was part of why Val lashed out at people. If they annoyed him, he hurt them. It was a ridiculously successful deterrent.
That’s why he was in the midst of leaving one of the darker Ul'dahn back alleys now, a nondescript nobleman laying in its dark confines, its shadows covering him like a thick blanket. Val only vaguely recalled what he looked like, and only because those certain aspects of him annoyed him. His mustache was weird. He had one of those dumb half-eyeglasses things (Faye had told him it was a monocle). His clothing was too pristine and his teeth were too white. Or maybe he just smiled too much. Probably both, really. What had really pissed him off the most is that he had been flirting with his betrothed.
It happened often enough that Val was usually able to ignore it, which was saying a great deal about how often it occurred in the first place. Most people were the same; it’s is why he often found them to be fairly predictable. One individual would see her standing there, seemingly pristine and draped in fine ivory garments. Well-mannered, soft-spoken, polite. They thought she was lost, or didn’t belong, or that they could take her, or that since she was there alone then she must be alone.
Val often watched them talk to her from a distance. A soft touch here or there, testing the waters, seeing what she would let them get away with. She would always entertain them, loving the power she had over simple men. Then, when Val had gotten tired of observing, he would step over and introduce himself. Sometimes, and almost always immediately, the men politely excused themselves. Other times they scoffed at the Seeker and mentioned how they wouldn’t expect a woman like her to be with a man like him. And a Miqo’te, at that! What a waste, they had claimed.
Most of the time Val was able to let it go. The men would wander off and either ignore her altogether or continue to try and contact her while poking and prodding Val, assuming him to be little more than a broken animal that Faye held on a tight leash. They assumed that because he did nothing, he would do nothing. Sometimes, they poked enough that Faye eventually let her wolf off of that leash, knowing good and well that one must be bitten before they realize their boundaries. Other times, Val happened across them on the streets where no one could chastise him otherwise. It also didn’t help that Val was particularly angry as of late.
“Indulge in something you enjoy, or abstain from something you need,” Berrod had told him. Well, Val had always indulged in everything he enjoyed. Alcohol and sex, mainly, but he also loved to fight. He’d lately been tempering his alcohol at his beloved’s request, and he hadn’t found himself in many battles as of late. That left only one thing for him to abstain from, and boy was it difficult.
So difficult, in fact, that he’d forced himself to stay away from Faye. He did not sleep in the same bed as her for fear of temptation and, while they spent time together, he was careful to not get particularly close. He missed her, of course. He always did. And yet, he knew that this was a necessity. He needed to do it in order to get stronger and fulfill his duty. But how much longer would he have to go?
He shrugged off his thoughts as he walked, hands shoved partially into his pant’s pockets as he rounded the corner. He replayed the fight in his head. Truly, the nobleman hadn’t been much. Few of them were, after all. Most lived pampered lives and barely saw any real combat. Even those that did tended to would often beat themselves. They took three moves to do something that could be accomplished in one. A swing of the arm too wide, or doing some weird flip; few seemed to realize that the best way to win was to take out your opponent as quickly as possible. Being flashy didn’t mean anything if it got you killed.
This man hadn’t been much different, really. As he expected, the man’s cane–which was another thing that annoyed Val–carried a hidden blade. He whipped it out as Val passed by and made a few quick jabs, taunting him. Val watched him, those mismatched eyes of blue and gold focused entirely on the man’s chest, backing up with each strike, making the man believe he was scared. He failed to change up his strikes and Val foresaw another jab of the cane. He stepped in, catching it beneath his arm and delivering a powerful fist to the bridge of the man’s nose in a single motion.
Disable the enemy. It was something his tribe had taught him long ago, back when he needed to hunt game in the Shroud for survival. His pack–as they called themselves in honor of the animal they’d taken their namesake from–often fought creatures much larger than them, so they had to work together. Attack when one least expected it, work as a group, and always strike to kill or disable. It was effective, as now the man could scarcely see between the tears that filled his eyes thanks to his newly broken nose. Oh, and the pain.
Val was fairly certain that the man hadn’t felt much pain before. He recalled how he’d begged for Val to stop, apologizing for what he’d done. But the Seeker didn’t care. Not really. He needed to vent his frustrations, and unfortunately Mr. ‘Stache had been the one to tip the scales that day. Val let him keep the mustache, but he took a few of his teeth. Well, he didn’t take them, per se. But he did make sure he’d be missing a few when he regained consciousness.
There is a violence within you that calls to Us, a sweet song that plays in Our ears. Do you find it difficult to contain or do you let it out whenever you fancy?
Val paused, the tips of his ears immediately standing up and satellite-dishing this way and that. His body suddenly grew rigid, the hands in his pockets clenching into fists. He remained perfectly still, a skill that he had long-since practiced as a child and had never left him. He was brash and irrational and angry, but he was also a tempered warrior. He knew when he could play and when he should be cautious.
So for now, Val remained still. It felt as if it were right beside him, and yet he was alone. Cautiously, Val turned his head toward the dark alley he’d left, eyes narrowing out. Yep, Mr. ‘Stache was still there. So who was contacting him? Better yet, where were they contacting him from? Was this just his imagination? Clearly his lack of sex was getting to him and it was all in his he–
Would you use it in defense of those you love or would you wield it as a weapon against those who have wronged you?
A shiver ran down the Miqo'te’s spine and he began to move onward. Typically, he preferred to get the jump on his prey. In times when he knew someone–or some thing–was watching him, there was little one could do aside from move on. If the thing was going to attack him, he couldn’t stop it. He could only hope to draw whatever it was out by feigning ignorance.
Such talent could be used, could be molded into something far greater. Do not turn from Our sight - let Us come closer. Let Us shelter you from the storm.
The voices echoed in his head once again, this time forcing him to pause once more. Were they offering him.. power? Training, perhaps? Moreso than he’d already been undergoing? He’d often wondered where he would go after this. Training with Berrod had certainly been helpful, but what would there be after? When would he reach his plateau? It was a fear he’d often had.
Let Us save her just for you.
Weakness was a cancer. Val didn’t care for most people because he found them to be particularly weak and unable to survive. He didn’t care if they lived or died, or that they existed, but he didn’t surround himself with weak-willed individuals. That was another thing his tribal life had taught him. The Shroud was a tough place to live for those that kept themselves away from society. People that did not carry their own weight in the tribe would not eat, and if they did not eat they would die. Even though he had long since left that life behind, it was something he continued to believe in to this day.
And that is why the Seeker let out a low, guttural growl at the voice’s next offer. Claiming the Seeker to be unable to fulfill his duty had been a mistake. Had They simply offered him a chance to continue to improve, They may have very well been capable of persuading Val to join them. But in claiming that the Miqo’te could not keep her safe on his own, they claimed Val to be weak. And that was an insult on par with what Mr. ‘Stache had done earlier.
