HAIII FELLOW HEARTLWSS DECEITERSSS, I have. created. another. gif. for. u. all. 🍓🍓🍓
mainly cuz it was a petition but omki, that doesn't really matterrrrr (btw if u want a gif of any hd character, TELL ME!!!!!! i. like. creating. hd. gifs. in. picmix.........)
16. "The monsters can't get you when I'm here." Dealer's choice :3
Thank you @lilbittymonster ^^ I borrowed Haname and Raer from @azure-dragonsinger for this because I have 0 chill for Muireann's scariest parental figure ^^; This also got...long úps.
Some post-Stormblood spoilers & timelines might be screwy - I flew through the patches and did the restoration while going through Shadowbringers MSQ as a break from the shrimp emotions.
(And just because names change around with PoV shifts: Miss Hanna = Haname, Ryoma = Raer's Doman name, Ralenne = Muireann's birth name)
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Muireann winced as she pulled on her coat - one day she would make it through a sparring match without having to call it short due to injuries. There was an ominous stillness about the Enclave despite the hubbub from the recently finished foodstalls and the constant bickering between the different craftsmen. Even the return of the refugees from Mor Dhona had done little to ease the uncomfortable presence of the Garlean ship that hung in the sky. The alleged friendly gesture sitting more like a threat.
If she had more time she would have donned something a bit more imposing for this meeting but revealing her aetherburn scars and Allagan aether channelling tattoos would have to be intimidating enough. There was a yell down the hall - not too unusual - followed by several pairs of small feet running towards her room. It seemed the advisor to the junior adventurer’s guild needed to advise.
“Miss Muireann!” The sliding door slammed open and the four, usually bright and beaming, faces of the Doman Junior Adventurers’ Guild were looking intently at her as Hakuro glowered after them. “W-we’re here to help!”
“Yes! The airship means…trouble right?”
“Because that’s what adventurers deal with - trouble and monsters.”
Muireann had to hold back a laugh at their earnest yet fearful declarations - an affectionate laugh, but she knew how even those could sting when one was not being taken seriously. Rokka, as ever, was a bit more cautious.
“They are like monsters…are they really not here to fight?”
Muireann knelt down to be on their level and they immediately huddled closer, their faces an almost comical imitation of the pre-battle focus she had often seen on Match and Raer. Though she knew it most intimately from her own childhood.
***
“Miss Hanna! Miss Hanna! Something sounds bad.” Ralenne scurried out from her hiding nook in a fallen tree.
“What do you mean by bad?” Haname lowered her axe, gazing intently at the young girl that had inserted herself into their lives. Raer, on the other side of the clearing started to usher the chocobo back towards the cart.
“It sounds hard. Like hitting metal together but there’s no smithy or crafters or anything out this way - only honey and Sylphs and moogles.”
“What direction?”
Ralenne pointed off in the distance, scrunching up her face as the unfamiliar noise clanged just outside of what they could hear. Haname nodded, quickly loading up the cart with the lumber while Raer hitched the chocobo to it.
“Here,” he gently pulled a hat over Ralenne’s head, ruffling her hair as he did, “and there are ear muffs if the sound is too bad.”
“How come you’ve ear muffs if you have horn ears? Are they like socks? Papa has to wear ear socks when he takes ill or he says they will fall off but Mama -” she chattered away as she climbed up and wedged herself between Haname and Raer, the latter chiming in with an answer here and there, making adjustments to the route based on the directions of the sound and whether Ralenne declared that the chocobo ‘felt bad’ about veering off the path at any point.
Haname watched the two, rambling on as easy as two that had known each other all their lives. The light had been slow to return to Ryoma’s eyes after Silvertear. It was good that it was back. Hunting, much as she disliked the dangers of it, had done much for his confidence. And Ralenne had been a welcome breath of fresh air from the begrudging tolerance they had received from most Gridanians at best.
They continued further beyond the Hawthorne Hut, beyond the entry to the Sylphlands and as the path began to open up past a foundation for a new watchtower, Haname could hear the bad sound Ralenne had described. Magitech.
As the canopy receded behind them they were greeted by a crystal blue sky, the fluttering greens of the Shroud’s grasses before them and its canopy framing the thick blunt black wall that cut across the landscape between the Twelveswood and Gyr Abania. It was discomforting that they were so close. That there was little defence other than space. And that behind that wall they were building something.
“Miss Hanna what is that?” Ralenne was nervous, the chatter was gone and Haname was suddenly struck by just how small she was.
“Garleans.” Ryoma’s voice was quiet and Ralenne quickly picked up on his fear.
“The bad people?! Why do they have such horrible booming noises?” Both of them seemed to shrink before her, what booming Ralenne could hear was thankfully beyond what she or Ryoma could hear, but Haname knew the fear it instilled.
“They’re monsters.” Ralenne’s eyes grew wide as Haname spoke with such an authority to her voice it almost drowned out the din coming from beyond the wall. “But they are beyond that wall. They do not dare push forward into Eorzea again. And if they ever did, they won’t get to you. Not while I’m around.”
Ralenne gazed up at Haname, who seemed to have to have grown to be taller than Raer even. She was bigger than the wall and its noises. Bigger than any monster or gribbly that she had ever heard stories about. A real and proper adventurer. Ralenne nodded solemnly, relaxing back into her seat with a confidence in her safety she would not feel again for a long time.
***
It had been many years since she had a more experienced adventurer to look to for guidance - reassurance that she was on the right path or that someone else would bear some burden too great for her shoulders and those of her friends. But it was the faces of these four kids - who, like her, craved adventure but were keenly aware of the fact that at the end of the day they were still too young to face down every danger that came knocking - that made her realise that she was the one who was now looked to for reassurance.
She pulled out a ribbon - green to match their guild berets - and held back her winces of pain as she tied back her hair. Adventurers were brave and strong after all.
Muireann fixed each of them with her best impression of Haname’s steely almost-glare, the comfort of the memory warming and easing her aching muscles, “The monsters can't get you when I'm here.”
Numb the pain away.
Don’t feel.
“I will feel it all!”
Why bother, you broken wretch?
“Don’t call me a wretch!”
Tray threw his bottle against the wall, the bottle exploding as it struck. He snarled in a drunk anger as his fists clenched.
“How could she betray me like this!“ Tray hissed, his lone eye narrowed as he shook. “After everything we’ve been through!”
He turned, huffing, before he drew back his fists and began to pummel a nearby tree, each blow cracking bark. Blood began to flow freely as his knuckles were dashed upon the bark but he embraced the pain, using it to help focus his mind and numb the sense of betrayal in his guts.
After nearly a cycle apart, Tray had finally encountered Haname at long last. And the reunion was bitter-sweet. His relief and excitement of her finding him, and the flood of old emotions that had washed over him as he had held her, had turned to ash in his mouth as she berated him for crawling back into the belly of the underworld, and swore that she’d take him down if she had too because she would not compromise her new mantra of a vigilante.
She had said she was trying to make amends for her her sins. Sins, she had reminded him, that she had committed on his behalf. She wouldn’t follow him down again, even though her affections were still strong for him.
Least so she said.
“But if that’s true, why teh hells won’t ye love meh as I am?” Tray hissed, his arms falling to his side, blood covering his fingers, his knuckles raw and shredded. He panted as he felt hot tears running down his face.
Who can love a beast?
Tray closed his eyes and felt the war in his mind. One side, the optimist and former pacifist, raged against the dark, power-hungry shade that had driven him to rise. And then to fall. Neither could overcome, but one must. No soul could feed two dogs.
And Tray had to make a choice eventually: follow Haname down a path of redemption, or continue his plunge into the darkness he seemed addicted too.
His teeth pulled back and his teeth flashed as he recalled his conversation with Frandrin the day his had killed his former mentor and friend:
“Look at you. The perfect image of a barbarian.”
“I am as ye made me.” Tray snorted, flicking his pierced tail.
“You give me far too much credit.” Frandrin scoffed. “This ‘beast’ was always inside of you. I just never saw it.” Frandrin gave Tray a stern look. “I still recall the day I met you. Sobbing and willing to spend the rest of your life in prison for your crime. There was something noble in you once, Tray. Clearly you’ve killed it.”
“I’m still noble.” Tray snarled, cocking his firearm.
“Oh yes.” Frandrin snorted with a roll of his eyes. “You sell drugs to the ignorant, get them hooked, and then feed off their need like a leech. You butcher those that try to uphold the laws meant to protect the people against things like you. You lie and betray those you call friend for your own gain. So noble. Tell me, how many innocent people have died for you to get where you are?”
“I could ask the same of ye!” Tray snapped.
“I only kill to protect this city and make it strong!” Frandrin spat. “You only kill for yourself. Don’t even compare us. You’re nothing but a wild animal snarling at the walls I put up to keep people away from dogs like you.”
“Well, seems like this dog’s got atop your wall.” Tray licked his pointed fangs.
“Perhaps.” Frandrin pulled his swords from their scabbards slowly and began to spin them through his hands. “Perhaps you’ll even kill me. But my death changes nothing. I beat you.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” Tray raised an eyebrow.
“Cause you’re going to die rent apart by the dogs you swarm with and one day, you’ll see I was always right about you.”
Tray bellowed in rage as he heard the last line ringing in his head. He hated that Frandrin had been proven so right about him over the moons since his death. He despised the elderly lalafel that had nailed him, his ambitions and his bloodlust to a cross perfectly. Every sin Tray had come to realize he was guilty of had long ago been hung before him by the Monetarist. And now, Frandrin’s omen was coming true. At the hands of the person he had come to trust and rely upon more than anyone else during his rise to power, he might meet his downfall. She was the dog he’d swarmed with the most eagerly.
“I hate that ye could be right.” Tray hissed, seeing Frandrin’s face before him. He had a choice. Give this up or continue.
“When is it going to be enough, Tray?” Haname had asked last night. Tray had only looked at her and known in the back of his mind that he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much gil had to flow, blood had to fall, and games he had to play to feed his beast. And like Rhyme, Tray was suspecting his own beast would never be full.
Tray looked past the tree at the rising sun over the ocean and the golden hue made him think of his son and how his own boy had died for his hubris and greed. If losing his own son wasn’t enough to take him from this life, was the risk of losing Haname going to drag him from this shadowed world?
Tears rolled down Tray’s cheeks. Some were clear and pure, others were oily and tainted as they left his cursed eye; another scar from his choices. As he crawled inside his own mind, the frustration of being caught between two worlds ripping him apart grew and another memory came to him: the first time he had met Frandrin all those years ago.
“Tray.” Frandrin repeated the name of the prisoner. This crying miqo’te interested him. “Why do you weep so heavily?”
“Cause I killed another person.” Tray answered, clenching his fists as tears fell from his eyes. “I…I couldn’t forgive him for killin’ my mate. God’s I tried. I swear I prayed for peace and to be a better man but I couldn’t! I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him and I killed him.”
Frandrin blinked, so surprised at this powerful display of emotion from this man. He looked at Tray’s hands and then the tears.
“This man killed your mate?” Frandrin asked softly. Tray nodded.
“Aye. We took money out…a loan…to open an orphanage. But…my farm wasn’t making enough gil, we defaulted. They came to rough us up for the money and got so rough they broke…” Tray sobbed and pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them.
“Y’Mara open this cell.” Frandrin ordered. The guard raised her eyebrows but did so. Frandrin, dressed in rich robes, entered, and pulled out his handkerchief. He offered it to Tray, who looked at Frandrin in surprise.
“Why…why…”
“Was this the first person you have ever killed?” Frandrin asked. Tray nodded slowly. The lalafel placed the handkerchief into Tray’s bloody fingers and gave a small smile.
“Never in my life have I seen someone so repentant for a crime many would say is justified. Losing a loved one like that….and too have wanted to have forgiven them….I wish more of mortal kind was like you. With a heart like yours.”
Tray swallowed, confused. He blinked his tear-filled eyes and Frandrin could see the miqo’te’s regret.
“Guard, dress him, let him shower, and bring him by my office.”
“Beg your-” Frandrin snapped his fingers and the guard shut her mouth.
“Sometimes all people need is a second chance.” The Monetarist gave Tray a small smile.
Tray suddenly heard another voice, dark and twisted, cackling. He realized it was his own voice.
A second chance was given
And that given faith was riven
As yer beast deep within
Came to love yer sin
As ye finally realized
Yer goodness died within.
Tray slumped down on the tree, his eyes opening as the looked at the sun rising over the ocean.
“What am I?” Tray asked, and for the first time that day, no internal voice answered; because no one knew.
((Wheeeew! This got loong as hell. Fallout after finally running into @repose-and-run ‘s char after a long time apart and past and present collided. Scene had allt he feels and Tray’s reeling from it. Was fun to get to mention Frandrin again. Miss him. Probably my favorite antagonist I’ve gotten to make for a plot))
A quick doodle with colouring of my gobbie techie Mirelia Mewrilah - also known as the engineer of the sweepers Poor Mire keeps on getting shooed away when important talks are happening. :< @repose-and-run @nightbearers @catnip-smuggler-radio Might keep on sharing doodles I do!
By day, they are lovers running a small yoga studio and cafe.
By night, one stalks the streets dishing out righteous justice. This other peddles illegal wares. And when they meet, they engage in mortal combat, unaware of the other’s true identity. @repose-and-run
(Fight between Haname and Yimir in true fighting game style. Hope you all enjoy! :D Warning, long. Lol. As always Haname is @repose-and-run char)
Yimir rose from his feet and studied the man before him. Not a bell ago, the man had rested at the feet of Nald’thal, ready to enter the god’s domain of death. The man in question was an old regular of Yimir’s, back before he’d entered into negotiations with Ostreaux about working for the elezen’s organization and his alone. Yimir would be joining a organization for life and he was still uncertain what he’d do; but for now he was here, aiding an old friends soul. A soul that was not for collecting today. Yimir had pulled the man from the great beyond and allowed him to live a bit longer. Yimir took a long sip of water from a flask. The effort of healing the man’s wounded form had taken a lot out of him and he was weary now. He slowly pulled his grey robe up over his bandaged arms and shoulders. The healer looked at his own, bandaged hands and marveled at how someone as insignificant as himself somehow could keep life inside a ruined form through will and aether. Did he defy the Wheel of Fate, or was he a part in its great machinations? He doubted he would ever know. He glanced out the window of the small apartment that overlooked Pearl Lane.
It was night already…
The night was dark and full of terrors. Not really, but it was full of crime and shady individuals. The Masked Moogle crouched atop an old, rundown building in Pearl Lane, face hidden behind a Magitek mask and Moogle katana strapped to her side. She wore a gaudy white coat and boots, true to her namesake, and what looked like a Moogle plush dressed as a Taoist floated around her. She didn't have her signature pigtails. No, that'd be way too obvious. After all, how many other grown women wore their hair in pigtails? Not many. It was the perfect disguise. The mask she wore warped her voice and hid her aetherial signature. And the outfit she wore was way too flashy and cool compared to her usual wardrobe. She was a real vigilante now-- No. She was a superhero, stalking the alleys of Ul'dah to fight crime.
"He'll need a few days rest an' den needs tuh take it easy all healed up meow." Yimir said as he stepped out the door of the small, building into the Lane. "Just keep him relaxed." With that, the blonde shut the door and turned to walk down the street. He was dressed in a white, cotton shirt over which was a large, grey robe and a polished, leather bandolier across his chest. Thigh-high leather boots covered brown riding pants and a large yellow-and-black plaid scarf was wrapped around his neck and lower face. He moved slowly, keeping an eye out for any patrolling Blades. They were a rare sight around these parts but anyone moving in the lane past sunset was up to no good.
The Masked Moogle noticed movement from the corner of her eye. She tapped the side of her mask and the screen of it zoomed in to the area she turned her head towards. She couldn't quite make out a face due to the large hat and scarf, but she knew the area well enough back in her moko smuggling days where each crime den was. And that was definitely a crime den. She looked the suspicious figure up and down, and judging by their conversation, he was probably a medic. Getting up from her crouched position, she followed after the man from the rooftops, pausing only to send her Moogle companion out. The Moogle plush fluttered down and twirled happily around Yimir, its little Taoist robes fluttering in the desert breeze. "Where are you going, kupo? What have you been up to, kupo?" It asked in its irritatingly adorable voice. "My name is Gohan, kupo! You look suspicious, kupo!"
Yimir stopped and waved his left arm to shoo the moogle away. He couldn't believe he was running into a moogle of all things! What was the world coming too? "Begone ye little one." Yimir ordered in a mildly annoyed manner. Certainly he felt no threat from the intrusive creature as they were known to be silly drunks more than anything else, but the creature was loud and could garner him some unwanted attention. "I ain't done nuttin' but take a walk. Shoo!"
"Ain't done nuttin', kupo?" Gohan quoted, floating down so it was almost nose to nose with Yimir. "What kind of nuts, kupo? Kupo nuts? There were some shaaady men back there, kupo. Ah! Watch out, kupo!" And then Gohan zoomed off, flying several feet up into the air above Yimir. The distraction was provided and the Masked Moogle leapt off the building right above the blonde Mi'qote, nearly landing on top of him with her katana drawn. "Alright, kupo." She said in a low voice, which really wasn't needed since her mask warped her voice to a much higher pitch anyways. "Hands up in the air. I know what kind of shady business you've been dealing with, kupo. I need you to come with me. Peacefully." She paused. "Kupo." She added to the end.
"I said buzz off ye-" Yimir's ears perked as he heard something above him. He couldn't tell what it was but his tail poofed in a sign of danger and he leapt backwards, pulling a small kukiri made from bone out of his robe. He landed on both feet and tensed his entire body as he held his weapon at his side. He peered at this new arrival as if it was a coiled viper. There was no joy in his mismatched eyes as his tail swished behind him. The vigilante's words further soured his impression of her. He had no intention of complying with her orders and he spun the dagger around a finger by its o-ring. "I dun know who ye are, but I ain't goin' anywhere with yeh. So either ye move out de way or...we gonna have ourselves some trouble."
Yes Yimir. Sound tough. You are sooo badass.
"Heh, so you really won't come peacefully then, huh kupo?" The Masked Moogle said with a small tilt of her head. "Well then.." She sheathed her sword. "I am the Masked Moogle, Champion of Justice!" She struck a pose. "In the name of the Mog, I shall punish you!" Another pose. Was that necessary? No, but she had been wanting to do it for a long time now and what better opportunity to than now? She held the pose for a moment longer as Gohan slowly descended back down, shaking its big, fat Moogle head.
The blonde male stopped spinning his knife, almost cutting a finger off as he stared in dumbfound wonder at the woman's posturing. Was...was this for real? Was this seriously happening? Was this person really challenging him to a fight while acting like a gosh darn moogle and posing like she was a power ranger? He blinked and it took him him almost a minute to manage to form som sort of reply. "Are...are ye for real? Ye seriously want...but…Do ye do this often or sumfing? First time? Cause aint heard of ye."
FIGHT BEGINS! QUE MUSIC!
"Hah! And clearly your first time if you've never heard of me, kupo!" The Masked Moogle was bluffing. But she had been down Pearl Lane enough times to know she had never seen this loser around before. And the fact that he hadn't straight up shanked her. "You're as green as they come, aren't ya kupo?" In a flash, she drew her katana again and well... threw it straight at his head.
Yimir had been expecting her to do something. -Throwing- the gosh darn katana, however, HADN'T been near the top of that list. He was saved by muscles and sheer instinct alone. He leaned back, flailing his arms behind him and sensing the world in slow motion as if he was dodging bullets in a video game. The weapon sailed over his head, the blade gleaming along it's polished edge in the moon's light. The healer watched it sail a mere ilm over his nose. And then it was gone. Yimir pulled himself upright and stood there, honestly surprised his himself and actually thanking his dad for making him do yoga. He was very bendy. But his wonder didn't last long. He glanced at the woman and clicked his tongue. Using his aether, he connected with the elements instead of his normal spells. His holy flames would be too obvious. Instead, he waved his hand and a gust of wind blew down the Lane and tried to slam into her feet and knock her onto her butt.
The gust of wind was strong. But not strong enough! The Masked Moogle had been hit by things worse than a little gust. Like boulders, shovels, and angry Highlanders. She butterfly-kicked into the air, doing a little spin like a Moogle would. Speaking of Moogle, Gohan was chanting "fight, kupo, fight, kupo, fight, kupo" the whole time. Landing on her feet again, she raised her hand and whistled. Unbeknownst to Yimir, her ridiculous looking katana was Magitek -infused and came boomeranging back around towards the back of Yimir's head a second time.
Yimir twirled his kukiri a few times and had taken a step forward when the pommel of the katana smashed into the back of his head. He jerked his head forward as a loud thwack filled the air from the impact. He used his free had to hold the back of his skull as he glanced between his golden locks at the bizarre sight. A magical katana... This was turning into a very weird evening. "Alright buttercup." Yimir muttered, rubbing his sore skull as he stood up. "Let's wrap this up." Yimir snapped his left hand. Two chains of gold would spring from the ground like twin pythons and try to wrap themselves around her torso and pin her arms to her sides.
"Hah! Not today, 'cuz I'm not here to stay!" The Masked Moogle rhymed as she leapt up just in time for the chains to miss snagging around her. She paused briefly and added, "..Kupo." She caught her katana midair and dashed forward in an attempt to shoulder-tackle the Mi'qote with.. well, not quite full-force since that would be a dead giveaway, but with at least strength to knock the air out of him if she landed a hit.
"Oh great, and it rhymes." Yimir muttered as the moogle warrior came at him with her weapon drawn. Her bravado how made it clear what her goal was and he simply side stepped her raging charge. As she ran past, he very casually stuck his foot out to trip her.
"KUUUUPOOOOOOO--" Followed by a loud, audible thud as the Masked Moogle fell face first into the ground and with the speed she had been charging at, she tumbled several feet away. Her mask nearly slid off from the accident as well but fortunately, she had her back to the medic and quickly adjusted it before ripping the Moogle adornment on her katana and promptly hurling it at Yimir. It made a little 'kupo' squeak and as it sailed through the air, the Masked Moogle pressed a button on her mask. Soon after, sparks of lightning began to fizz out from the ornament. If it successful in landing on the blonde, it would send him into quite a shock! Literally.
Yimir was very smug as he heard the vigilante eat it on the stone street. Not that he looked. No he turned his back and began quickly shuffling away, eager to put this odd person and their moogle obsession far behind him. This desire for an expedient exit, however, proved a poor idea.
A few moments later, he sensed the electricity behind him. The hair on his tail poofed again and he yelped out loudly: "Don't taze me bro!" But, alas, Haname did not listen and the blonde was tazed. His entire body convulsed and his muscles tensed. He collapsed in a heap as the moogle adornment bounced away.
"Hehe! Watt did you think of that, kupo?!" Horrible puns are horrible. But that didn't stop the Masked Moogle. "That one was on the house, no charge! Or maybe there was a charge.. of the shocking kind, kupo!" She laughed obnoxiously and proudly at her first feat as a superhero, dishing out justice and puns in equal measure. Stepping forward, she picked up her Moogle adornment and attached it back onto her katana before reaching down to drag the shady looking medic up by the back of his scarf and attempting to snatch off his hat to get a better look at her victim.
"What's going on here!" came the call of a tall, broad hyur. A moment later two armored Brass Blades clanked around the corner and into sight. They had been drawn by the sounds of illegal justice. Yimir looked at them with grateful eyes as he wiggled away from Haname as she tried to pull his scarf away. "Officers!" Yimir wheezed. "Help! This crazy person assaulted me!"
"Officers! I'm just doing my due diligence here in helping enforce the law, kupo!" The Masked Moogle claimed, loosening her hold on the scarf though she didn't quite let go of Yimir yet. "There was some criminal activity here, kupo! Arrest this Mi'qote!" Gohan floated itself around, adjusting its hat. "And if worst comes to worst, kupo, officers will make some nice bail money!" The plush piped in.
The hyur and lalafel looked at the scene, then one another, then the two unaware family members. They drew swords and pointed those pointed ends at duo.
"Alright you weirdos. I don't know if you are Quicksand fuck buddies or fighting for gil or what, but both of you, drop your weapons, put you your hands in the air, and we'll go down to the station and sort this all out nice and easy. Sound good?" Yimir did not think that sounded good. Not at all. Seriously. He'd just gotten a big ol' Yakuza tattoo on his arms and was willing to wager things would not go well for him. Especially seeing as this was technically terf belonging to a different 'Little Star' and might rub some of his superiors the wrong way, supposing he lasted long enough for word to get out. Brass Blades did have their reputation after all.
"Officers, you got it wrong, kupo! I'm a good person, kupo!" The Masked Moogle threw her hands up defensively. Somehow, she knew it'd go something like this. After all, she had dealt with plenty of Blades before, on Frandrin's payroll or not. And with this knowledge, she knew this would not go down well. She quickly gave another whistle and suddenly, crashing down from the rooftops came a Magitek motorbike. It vroomed and roared and she hopped onto it without a second thought and promptly zoomed off, leaving the Mi'qote to fend for himself.
Yimir covered his head as the Brass Blades threw themselves aside as the bike slammed down onto the earth. A roar of the engines and a moment later the mysterious kupo crusader was gone. Yimir, coughed as a blast of moogle exhaust hit him as he got to his feet. He took a few steps when one of the Blades blew a whistle. The young miqo'te groaned as he turned and waved his hands. A powerful sleep spell slammed into both Blades. But it was too late.
Even as the pair of Blades fell over in a heap, the sounds of incoming boots could be heard. Eager to not be here when the Blades arrived, the blonde took off down a long hallway that entered the palace. Soon, the male vanished among the many long, weaving corridors, left only to dwell upon his very strange evening and the very strange silly person out hunting down criminals.
“Something Stinks....and it ain’t the moko for once.”
Tray’ju Estinoch, smuggler and moko connoisseur, felt his right hand shaking as he put the smoking joint between his lips. The past bell had been tense. He and Haname had illegally entered Pheli’s apartment and tried to find something to reveal why she’d been acting so strange lately. But Pheli had returned home and it had taken every bit of Tray’s silver-tongue to lie his way out. He’d navigated what had felt like a verbal reef eager to consume him. But it hadn’t. He’d manage distract Pheli long enough for Haname to escape before he’d managed his own departure. And now...the deep, twisted feeling of something wrong that hung in his guts was worse. He looked over at Haname.
“Pheli’s weird tattoo...I got a good look at it. It doesn't match any syndicate I know off. I’m gonna do some diggin’, but I’m not gonna be surprised if it turns up it don’t really belong to one. She's hiding whatever it really is for and she ain’t ever lied to me till now. She won’t even tell the so called syndicate’s name or the jobs it’s supposedly settin’ up fer us fer fuck’s sake. And she ain't sleepin', ye can see that on her face clear as glass. Whatever that girl’s dealin’ with, girl is in deep with somethin’." Tray took a long drag on his joint as he gazed his mismatched eyes across the row of houses. “We need to talk to H'aru...far more willin' to hear what he has to say now."
(from ending of rp related to @the-faceless-ffxiv plots. Thanks to @smolcatte and @repose-and-run for the rp!)
