FFxivWrite2018: Prompt 3
A rattle through the floating wagon brought on by a startled chocobo nearly knocked the cigar from Brem’s lips, earning a slam of her fist against the wood of the bench next to her. “Keep that moronic bird under control! I’m payin’ you to transport this, not bloody scramble it!” The woman’s mixed visage set back to the crate at the center of the wagon, unmarked and large enough to fit a full grown roe inside. There were a few other bits of cargo scattered through the wagon, but it was all mostly to serve as a distraction from the primary cargo. Various goods that Blast Lambda Holdings nominally dealt in, least as far as the tax collectors were concerned. Getting that crate delivered would maybe let her finally relax, getting caught out in the open with it was an absolute nightmare scenario.
“Sorry boss! Cactaur spooked it! We’ll be up at the bridge checkpoint soon, guards should be keeping things in check!”
Any consideration of relaxing is pushed aside on that note. They were likely to get flagged for inspection. Quotas to meet and they were traveling on a normally light day for it. Her gut’s rewarded for it’s guess by the wagon stopping not long after the sand gave way to stone, and the tiny tanned face of a lalafell hopped up into the back of the carriage. “Flame corporal Lulutegi, you’ve been randomly selected for a checkpoint inspection. Let’s make this quick and painless.”
The roe shoots a smile out to the dutiful lalafell standing in front of her, thankful that a half metal face made for less real estate she had to keep from radiating withering death out the the lawman. “Evenin’ officer. Ain’t haulin’ anything too fancy, and we got our papers in order.” Even as she spoke, a gloved hand dipped into the giant’s jacket to pull out a few signed and stamped scrolls bound in leather. “Cactus apples, some spirits, and a box of jewelry on their way up to Ishgard. A rush order for some party a noble’s throwin’ on a whim. You know how the rich folk get..” A massive leather boot comes to brace down against an edge of the largest crate, throwing a silent barrier to that particular inspection.
The dunesfolk man flips through her documents, everything was done up properly, which was in itself a little suspect for cargo coming out of Ul’dah. “Seems like you got your dodos in a row, miss. It’s customary for us to pop open and have a peek when it comes to foodstuffs though. Can’t have someone trying to sneak around a tariff, right?” He pats a small crowbar hanging from his belt as he finishes speaking, an imp-like grin stretching over his features.
There’s one last slow draw on her cigar before she tosses it over the wall of the wagon and on off the edge of the bridge. A couple of loosened buttons later and the long red duster the sea wolf had been traveling in fell open, letting one hand draw past the grip of an utterly absurdly sized revolver and sets upon a sack of coins clipped just beyond it. “It’s a good custom, I’m sure. Everyone pays their dues one way or another in Thanalan. On that point, I suspect there’s some more productive things for a man of your office to be doing than digging through prickly fruit. Perhaps I could leave a.. deposit for those tariffs, and if I don’t make it back I’m sure you can make sure it ends up in the right hands.” A sharp tug snaps the bag from her belt, and she tosses it forward onto a barrel between her and the tiny lawman. “Wouldn’t want to keep my noble friends waiting on something so.. customary.” Her gloved palm comes back to rest on her hip, a few ilms shy of that revolver.
Lulutegi waddles his way up to that sack of gil, weighing it while his eye plays out over the roe’s weapon. “You know, I think this should cover any.. potential violations. The Sultanate appreciates you making this a swift matter. Safe travels to Ishgard, miss!” He manages to not let a greedy giggle slip out until he’s hopped out of that wagon and started speeding off back to his office. After a quiet prayer to the predictable greed of Ul’dah, the roe hammers her fist on the bench a couple more times. “Get moving before someone sprouts morals.”
It’d been the better part of a bell since the roe and her crate had hopped off wagon and she’d started dragging it through the Shroud. Rope had put fresh roughness on her well-worked palms by the time she was forcing up the front door to the hovel she’d been heading to the whole time. Roughly half an airship hull reworked into something akin to a house, though a particularly small one. A couple more doors and a fight with a corner and she hauled her charge into the deepest part of that ramshackle building, into a room that once was a captain’s cabin. Much of that home to that point had been functional; objects to barricade doors, food and drink, some basic furniture and a pile of clothing. The final room though was a whole other matter.
Pink shelves, pink nightstands, a pink dresser, a pink spread over a bed finished with pillows of one of the other great themes of the room. Two fluffy moogle heads sit at the top, matching the rug through most of the free space in the room and the large seat in the corner of the room. A larger than life statue of a moogle is set nearby, and there’s many a moogle in the army of plushies throughout. On shelves, scattered over the bed, hanging off the sides of it, even a few setting over on that novelty couch and various others sitting on the floor when there was no room left. From magical and mythical beasts to everyday critters, even a few of famous souls within the land of Eorzea and beyond. It’s beyond dozens, likely closer to hundreds, ranging from pristine and set high on display shelves to some that look almost more patch than plush from years of service.
Ignoring it all though was the towering air pirate and hardened criminal ex-con, furiously working through getting that crate ripped open just on raw brawn. A satisfying crack and a creak of wood get the top of the packaging removed and tossed aside, letting her brightly smiling visage look down at her smuggled goods. Bending down she wraps both arms around a titanic moogle, nearly as tall as the roe herself when counting the wobbling pom.
There’s a moment spared for a squeezing hug, thinking back to the moment she’d received that gift at the home she had taken too most nights, and the two faces there to share it. She could have left the giant toy there, claimed it was Sana’s if anyone asked. She was certain the miqo’te would have been fine with it, and she’d get to enjoy it more often. The two of them hadn’t passed judgement when they saw this wonderland of a bedroom, her best hidden secret, and probably would be happier if she didn’t feel the need to run off to visit it. But there was something special about this tiny realm she’s built for herself, a portal away from the rest of life to just indulge in one of the few things she didn’t allow herself elsewhere.
The release of that hug was her setting her roe-sized moogle down into one of the few empty stretches of floor she had left, and immediately gave a squeeze at it’s ear to start the aetheric light show of dancing moogles around it. The sea wolf flops down onto the floor in front of it, watching the display with that same wide, goofy smile, letting names for the addition to her mog family play through her head.