There’s only one Sea that Moonh hasn’t visited, but the “Sea of Crises” has a nice, homey ring to it. Lots of places in Eorzea are called things like that (usually for good reason) and it shouldn’t comfort her, but it does.
The name, she soon finds, is the only comforting thing about it.
She’s not dressed for the chill or the damp, having elected to go out in some shorts and and a summery cardigan. (Is it summer here? Is there such a thing as summer here?) At least her boots are sensible enough; her feet are dry, and the click of the low heel against the cobblestones occasionally send a rat or two darting out of its hiding place. Honestly, it’s quite hard not to chase them, but the atmosphere in this place is almost oppressive and she feels like maybe she should be wary. She sorely misses her bow—not that she’d be able to see more than a few feet in front of her in this fog.
Moonh tries to hum a little song (a traditional ballad written to boost morale in battle) as she walks, but the echoes off the street and the shambling buildings on either side of the lane sound like they’re taunting her and she stops almost immediately. She has the feeling she’s not alone.
