“How th’ hells did th’ place git so trashed…” The dusky elezen woman ties off yet another bag and tosses it onto the slowly growing pile near the front counter. She drags her arm over her forehead in an attempt to remove some of the sweat and ends up smearing dust across her face instead. It’s hot enough in the shop that she’s traded her usual red and black plaid button down for a plain short sleeved shirt and regrets her choice of long denim pants. After unlocking the sliding doors of the store front from their tracks and swinging them open to allow more light to stream in and air to move through the shop, she heads to the back part of the main room where several collections of mismatched 5 gallon buckets are stacked. Swiftly unstacking the buckets and pushing them together, she retreats through the door to the back room to return holding the end of a garden hose. Squeezing the nozzle attached to it, she aims the resulting stream into each bucket in turn.
The noise of a throat being cleared from the other end of the long room gives her a start; she turns to look towards the origin of the noise, and relaxes her grip on the nozzle to stop the water. Standing between her and the front of the shop, silhouetted against the glare from the street, is a pair of over muscled roegadyn men. She raises her free hand to block the light and frowns.
“Ah’m sorry fellas, but Ah’m not open f’r business just yet. The front’s just open t’ let the breeze in an’ get th’ damp out.”
“No no, we aren't here for... flowers.” The midlander, easily overlooked and almost completely lost in the shadow of the men behind him, has an almost sleazy businesslike air to him, despite the casualness of his and his companions’ clothing. He glances around the shop with a faint look of disgust, while the two behind him remain stoically relaxed. The demeanor of all three and the way they carry themselves puts the elezen on alert, though her expression doesn't change. “We’re here to collect the fee for doing business in our part of Gridania. Keeps things from ‘happening’ to the shops and homes. The previous owner failed to keep up on her payments.”
“Oooooh! Ah ken ye!” Her outward mood changes from puzzled to a loud and almost bubbly cheerfulness, and her accent gets even thicker. Turning to face the men fully, she gives a big, toothy grin, showing off rather pointed canines, and drops the hose across the buckets before hooking her thumbs in her beltloops. “So, yore th’ fellas what was causin’ my auntie so much trouble! See, ahbout two weeks ago was it? She came home all upset laike. Suhprised th’ whole lot o’ us at th’ house, seein’ as we ain’t been expectin’ ‘er, much less wi’ th’ truck stuffed with all o’ ‘er things.
“Now, my auntie, bless ‘er heart, is about th’ sweetest gal ye could e’er meet, dearly loves ‘er flowers, kept house in th’ apartment up o’er th’ shop, wi’ th’ cutest little window garden ye e’er seen. Taught me ‘n’ th’ cousins all th’ little meanin’s flowers ha’e.” She moves closer to the trio, stepping carefully around buckets and small puddles, placing each step with deliberation, like a coeurl stalking her prey. “So when she showed up at th’ house all distraught laike, and tol’ Nonna what all was happenin’ he’e in Gridania, ahbout how some fellas we’e comin’ round and demandin’ things o’ her? Nonna asked me t’ take o’er runnin’ this he’e shop, on account o’ bein’ the eldest o’ the gran’kids, an’ best able t’ handle m’self.”
Her path ends with her standing so close to the midlander that she is looming over him, despite being only a few inches taller than he, and he can now clearly see that her smile is not reflected in her eyes. Cold fury sparks deep in her mismatched blue eyes; he doesn't realize he's stepped back until he bumps into one of the men behind him.
“Y’see, Ah don’t cotton t’ bullies and what ha’e ye, so allow me t’ make things clear f’r ye,” she says, her voice low and the false cheer gone. Her accent disappears completely with her next words, and she punctuates them by jabbing her finger into the midlander’s chest with each one. “I. Am. Not. Paying. You. One. Clipped. Coin. Now, you can either leave on your own two feet with your goons, or be shown the door at speed.”
Silence reigns in the shop, punctuated by the slow dripping of water. Noise from the world outside the shop seems distant, almost muffled; the air feels thick, heavy and smothering, like the shop was underwater or wrapped in cotton batting. The spell is broken by the sound of a blade whispering out of it’s sheathe; the roegadyn on her right shoves the midlander behind him while the one on her left strikes out with the blade. She steps towards him and blocks his swing, her other hand snapping up to hit the underside of his upper arm with enough force to cause his arm and hand to go painfully numb. The knife clatters to the floor but she has already turned away, her left fist connecting with the second roegadyn’s jaw, stunning him and interrupting his own swing, causing him to stumble back.
A quick spin to kick the knife back into the group of buckets before coming back to the trio again, her gaze full of contempt. She looks at each of them in turn.
“Last chance.”
Her mouth twists into a snarl, and something begins to glow under her shirt.
Name: Demetria ‘Ria’ Nocturne (S’kiazo)
Age: 23 (actually and physically)
Occupation: Hunter, musician
Alignment: Immortal, half-blood (Voidsent/God)
Birthplace: Idyllshire
City-state of Residence: - Gridania
Race: Kitsune (Fantasia’d from a Miqo’te halfbreed)
Hair: black (blue tint)
Eyes: dark pink and red (dichromatic)
Skin: tanned
Height: 5’7″
Nameday: January 12th
Weapon proficiency: Magic, Firearms, Bow (Minor control over voidsent, those assigned to her by Diablos)
Spouses: N/A
History:
Ria is an anomaly, born from the coupling of a voidsent and a god, a child which should have had no chance of surviving in the first place. Luck was on Diablos and Menphina’s side, and they did have a child. Not long after she was born did it become apparent that she had inherited a lot of her parent’s proficiency in magic, both healing and attack magics something that were unknowingly slung around the loft until she was old enough to understand what she was doing.
The older she got, the more it was clear that the Cloud wanted to either pull her to it’s side, or kill her outright. A solid blow on what had once been her second in command, though after multiple attempts, Diablos would assign Forgall to keep her safe. And despite the general’s eagle eye over her, it would be Feridad that gave her the first fantasia when she was little more than 16.
At 18 Ria decided she wanted to be a kitsune, after having seen one on the streets. She felt at home in the other form, deciding that she would stay like this.
Whenever she wanders the wilds, one can likely either see her with Maahes or Lyth’s coeurl, hunting partners who rather enjoy the time they spend with her.
Personality:
Ria has all the sense that Forgall instilled in her as she was growing up, along with being wary of most things like her parents. Because she has a target on her back nigh constantly, one that has since caused a lack of privacy for her, she tends to keep to crowds and other people because of there being less of a chance of being attacked.
Ria has inherited the insatiable libido that both of her parents are known for. Throw in the good looks and she is likely one of those conquests that will end up conquering you.
Features:
Because she has used fantasia to make herself a kitsune permanently, she looks all together stunning. Large triangle ears sit atop her head, jet black like the pixie cut she sports. A large chest and nicely sized rear fill out her torso, while the black tail she sports is long enough to dust the ground when she walks. It is fluffy, about the size of her torso and longer than it, she uses it to keep her warm if she is ever in a colder region.
City-state of Residence: Gridania/Twelveswood
Race: Elezen, with some miqo’te traits due to mixed heritage
Hair: Black with blue highlights
Eyes: Right eye is dark blue, left is ice blue
Skin: Dark caramel
Misc. Features: She has a tattoo of a scar crossing her left eye, as well as tattoos of flowering branches on her arms. Her pupils are slitted thanks to the miqo’te blood; she also has longer canines than a pureblood elezen, has slightly better than average night vision, and can growl, hiss, and spit like a miqo’te.
Height: 6′4″
Nameday: 24th day of the second Astral Moon/March 24th
Weapon proficiency: Fists and staves, minor proficiency in bow and lance
Spouses: None
History:
Romidant’s family has always followed ancient traditions, passed down through the ages, in regards to practicing conjury and honoring the elementals of the Twelveswood. They’ve kept their healing skills secret; for most of them it is a minor skill, and Romidant has the strongest skill the family has seen in a very long time. On her nameday, a divination involving counting sticks pointed to the possibility of her being a reincarnation.
Her family could be considered ‘redneck’ or ‘country’ in that they are very insular and isolate themselves from cityfolk, instead choosing to stay close to the land. Romidant will sometimes emphasize her ‘country bumpkin’-ness, to get others to underestimate her.
When Romidant was just getting into her twenties, she suffered a high fever and experienced hallucinations as a result; she managed to get out of the house without anyone seeing her and the searchers found her near Rootslake the next day, collapsed in the remnants of a courtyard paved in white stone, holding a pale, translucent pebble with a symbol faintly etched into it. That night her left eye changed color and she could see things that she couldn’t before, but only if she closed her right eye. She wears the stone she was holding on a pendant.
A few years after, Romidant moved into Gridania proper, and her aunt passed ownership of her floral/herbal shop to Romi to run (and live above) after her aunt moved back to the family house.
Name: Nidhogg Midgardson, ( Goes by Agnar Lang )
Age: 1,000+ ; appears to be in his early thirties.
Occupation: Music teacher in the Hinterland outskirts of Idyllshire. He teaches both instrument and voice - and often has tutoring for those available.
Alignment: True Neutral
Birthplace: Dravania / Coerthas (He’s long since forgotten the specifics)
City-state of Residence: Idyllshire
Race: Great Wyrm / Takes the appearance of a Xaela Au Ra
Hair: Hasn’t changed much over the years ; dark blue with a faded purple hue and long, droopy and soft spiked.
Eyes: Crimson ; semi clouded.
Skin: Pale purple, with obsidian scales.
Misc. Features: His horns are notably cracked or broken in some places, and the scars on his face and body in general are long faded - most people presume he was in a war of sorts and never asks; minus the odd person here and there.
Height: 8′5 ft ( 257 cm )
Nameday: 17th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon
Weapon proficiency: Still skilled with a bow and arrows. Claws and teeth as he shifts form, but he has not done this since the last Umbral Era when he was protecting his kin from the Calamity.
Spouses: (For sake of the AU I’ll list it as N/A, but I’m fairly certain Ratatoskr would be with him regardless)
History: Nidhogg is the great wyrm as he is currently; yet faded from history long from his shade’s defeat on the Steps of Faith. He’s since done much in the name of being an “underground activist” to keep his lair - the Aery, and most of Dravania saved from mortal encroachment. Tho the place has been given careful care from the mortals, most creatures deigned from leaving the Mists and have closed off parts of the Forelands and Mists from mortal existence, and the palaces/lairs of the great wyrms from being turned into mortal entertainment areas. (Besides, everyone knows that “Moogles and dragon’s don’t exist!” Yet regardless their steps are cautious while traversing the national parks and sanctuaries.)
Now, at the grand age of... he can’t remember, but it’s a high number, he knows; Nidhogg had settled in the Hinterlands away from the busy, sprawling city of Idyllshire to enjoy the peace and quiet. The great wyrm’s taken to teaching children / teenagers / young adults at the local schools in the area and offers private lessons for those who want to pursue a musical career professionally.
He’s rather neutral in affairs, and prefers it that way.
Occupation: Professor of Eorzean History during the week, DJ on the weekend
Ailignment: Mortal, Magi (Archon)
Birthplace: Limsa Lominsa.
City-State of Residence: Until recently, Ul’Dah. Moving to Idyllshire due to a research grant that allows him more freedom.
Race: Hyuran, with perhaps a little Miqo’te blood in his ancestry.
Hair: Very pale white-blond
Eyes: Pale, clear blue
Skin: Tanned
Height: 5′9″-ish
Nameday: July 25th (He actually doesn’t know, nor care. ‘sometime in the summer’ works well enough for him, but there’s paperwork which requires birthdates so.... that one works sell enough.)
Weapon Proficiency: Daggers. and poisons to be used on daggers. He’s dabbled with guns but finds them too noisy to be of much use.
Spouse: None. People come and go too rapidly for him to risk commitment.
History: As an Archon, Thancred always knew that he would live for an unbelievably long time - that he would watch the world grow and change around him, while he stayed permanently halted at twenty-five. He did not, however, expect it to be quite this long, and eventually had to make some adjustments to himself and his lifestyle in order to cope.
To that end, while he isn’t asocial, he’s not quite as outgoing as he once was and tends to keep to those few people he trusts, save when he’s DJing at a local nightclub - there he comes alive once more, and the Thancred of old makes a return as a lively and flirtatious master of mixing.
He has moved many, many times over the years, usually within Eorzea but once or twice venturing back to Sharlayan (and quickly quitting the place, because Eorzea, no matter how much it was changing, was still home.)
Most recently, he has been serving as a Professor of Eorzean History in Ul’Dah, living in the ‘historical district’, but was recently offered a research grant that has prompted him to transfer to Idyllshire. Coming with him is his certified assistance chocobo, Papali (the 69th), who helps him with the anxiety he continues to struggle with even unto the modern era.
