#zanin things

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Lucky Sparrow show! @luckysparrowffxiv October 13, 2019 Souls were reaped, performances delighted and spooked, ghosts busted.

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Zanin Briggs - Biographical

General

Full Name: Zanin Raphael Briggs

Pronunciation: Your text to link here...

Nickname: Zee / Z / Big Z

Title: Craftsman and Notary of AIM guildhall / chirurgeon / bartender

Hair: Greying white undyed

Skin: Slate grey, various

Eyes: Blue, green limbal ring on left eye

Height: 180 cm.

Weight: 80kg

Age: 45

Appearance:

Various scars line his face and any exposed skin and his hands are calloused and rough. Some scar tissue along his body is akin to a patchwork quilt from skin grafts. The man himself is kept clean though he tends to let his greying hair grow out and simply hides it under his hat to keep it out of his face when working.

Apparel:

Zanin is usually seen with his simple straw hat, blue work clothes, and polite smile! His clothes are kept as clean as one can while traveling but have several tough stains or patches indicating their age and consistent use. Around his belt are many various pouches that he keeps his medicines, waterskin, and various knick-knacks in. A surgical bag is rarely far from his person while in the field.

Personality

Alignment:  Lawful Good

Motivations/Goals:

Do you need help? Would like some tea or similar? No to both? Then one will return to the laboratory and continue working. Oh! You have tea to share? Yes please.

Disposition:

A tip of a hat or a polite bow with a smile are given to everyone he meets! Zanin endeavors to be a gentleman and tend to anyone in need of aid, medical or otherwise. Normally a cheerful smile is on his face though it is often replaced by a thoughtful expression when he is not being directly addressed. Helpful to a fault he is very keen to meet the needs of others and feel useful.

Outlook:  Keep calm and drink tea.

Religion/Philosophy:

Even if the Twelve and Kami remain silent, there is much and more we can learn from their stories and from mortal examples. We have to look after ourselves regardless if they assist or not. Though trying anything to help a patient or situation included prayer to benevolent non-mortal beings. Zanin believes that they exist and is a recovering worshiper of Rhalgr and the Twelve. Though he keeps a very open mind when it comes to the ephemeral.

Method of Handling Rage:

Angrily drink tea with disapproving look. Play with their dog. Go for a run.... ok yes they have a training dummy and broken wasters in their yard for a reason.

Sexuality: Pan-romantic Asexual

Positive Personality Traits/Strengths:

Amiable, Clever, Considerate, Intelligent, Kind, Loyal, Tidy

Negative Personality Traits/Weaknesses:

Anxious, Controlling, Distractible, Naive, Obsessive, Private, Well-meaning

Skills & Talents

Education:

Chirurgeon and alchemical studies including Ul'dah alchemy guild and Gridanian conjury guild. Field medic work during Garlean invasions. Mechanical training at goldsmithing guild and alongside Garlean defectors including Ironworks. Early training in Garlmond workshops.

Combat Skills:

Crafting:

Tendencies

Likes: Helping others and feeling useful, collecting and telling stories, hot black tea with milk.

Dislikes: Rash actions, berserking forms of combat, meat dishes, cruelty

Relationships

Family: Elder brother Esmond, younger brothers Nathan and Vincent.

Friends: Will you be one's neighbor?

Enemies: People with biases against mammets, allagan technology, magitek, or Garlean trained individuals. Some old Ul'dahn contacts from his early paladin career.

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Happy Patch Day!

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As One Listens To The Rain

Listen to the stage as you would listen to the rain, not attentive, not distracted. Light footsteps, thin drizzle, water that is air, air that is time.

The day is still leaving, the night has yet to arrive. Figurations of mist at the turn of the corner, figurations of time at the bend in this pause… Listen as one listens to the rain, without listening, hear what is said. With eyes open inward, asleep with all five senses awake. It is raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables, air and water, words with no weight. What we are and are, the days and years, this moment, weightless time and heavy sorrow. Listen as one listens to the rain, wet cobblestone is shining, steam rises and walks away, night unfolds and looks at you. You are you and your body of steam, you and your face of night, you and your hair, unhurried lightning. You cross the street and enter one’s forehead, footsteps of water across one’s eyes. Listen as one listens to the rain, the cobblestone is shining, you cross the street, it is the mist, wandering in the night, it is the night. Asleep in your bed it is the surge of waves in your breath, your fingers of water dampen one’s forehead, your fingers of flame burn one’s eyes. Your fingers of air open eyelids of time, a spring of visions and resurrections.

Listen as one listens to the rain, the years go by, the moments return. Do you hear the footsteps in the next room? Not here, not there. You hear them in another time that is now. Listen to the footsteps of time, inventor of places with no weight, nowhere. Listen to the rain running over the terrace, the night is now more night in the grove. Lightning has nestled among the leaves, a restless garden adrift. Go in, your shadow covers this page.

Based on the poem by Ocatvio Paz.

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Prompt #1 - Submerged

“I thought I heard the Old Man say,  ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her.’ Tomorrow you will get your pay, And it's time for us to leave her.”♪ “Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow, And it's time for us to leave her.♪”

Out past the waves on the Isle of Umbra, Zanin fixes his straw hat onto the water-logged barrel. His singing ceased for the time being. There was more work to be done. In the Calamity the waves had taken entire towns along Western Lominsa. A plaque waited by Halfstone to remind of the loss and to never forget. Zanin required more tangible reminders.

Trudging along the bottom of the ocean he pulls the occasional stray bit of seaweed out of his hair. In search of a certain ship among the buildings and former shipyards reclaimed by the sea.

He stops at one such wreck. This one adorned with a figurehead with angelic, feathered wings and thorns along the Elezen woman’s arms. Her hands twist into points at the prow. Welcoming opposing ships to their doom should they decide to face her head on.

Zanin pats the figurehead’s arm gently, reassuring her that she would not be forgotten. Taking out a boot knife he pries off one of her thorns. It rests in his pocket as he resumes his trudge to the inside of the ship to collect another barrel.

(( See this post for information on the writing prompts! ))

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Prompt #2 - Silenced

“You let her go?” “No, one did not report them until the next sun.” “You let her go.” “It is NOT the same!”

Zanin’s voice becomes shrill for a moment. Strained and forced with a his as he glares across the table. “We are required to report listed criminals. Only that they appear. Waiting two bells mattered little.” Esmond’s disapproving stare meets his brother’s gaze. His mustache shifts up and down. It was like arguing with a mason wall. “If the guards had come she would have been delayed! Their destructive ex would have caught up with them. We both know how vengeful dropped partners are!” A long sigh. Esmond draws in from his cheap cigar, down to mere embers, and stands up from the table. His usual move of leaving whenever his brother had touched a nerve.

Across the way Zanin facepalms. He had gone too far. “Apologies. That was uncalled for brother.” Staring blue eyes are Zanin’s only response. Esmond does not take more of a step towards the door at least. “It is not wrong to bend things, if it will help one person...” “She killed. Again. Because you let her go.” The two brothers found a separate and convenient reason to not come back to the tent that evening.

(( See this post for information on the writing prompts! ))

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http://patrikthevampire.com/

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