"You can't change my mind. I have made a solemn vow that I will never again betray my king." Merchant in the Town of Garreg Mach 🌆🗺️Closed RP Blog for Nasir, Associated with TOA. Banner Credits: @/erikensa
PATH OF RADIANCE/RADIANT DAWN [Radiant Dawn NG+ Post Game]
His "original" mission to return the girl he found wandering about Goldoa's halls complete, the lure of a whole new continent to explore ignites his wanderlust, and he decides to stay for the time being. Content with the time he had spent there, Nasir sees fit to leave the walls of the main monastery and venture down into the town below. While scouting out the area, he meets an old merchant looking for someone to take over his shop as he has grown weary and wishes to move to the countryside to live with his children. Nasir obliges, as he already has experience in the field and the old man leaves his shop in Nasir's care. Time to get to work; huh?
RULES | ABOUT | INTERVIEW | Please kindly do not use small text! (Post)
Due to the nature of Nasir in POR and his late game recruit in RD, as well as his tendency to just... talk. There will be spoilers for all of Tellius. You have been warned.
NOTES UNDER THE CUT
Thereoretically >three years post Radiant Dawn.
He lacks the ability to sit absolutely still at any time. If he's not taking the students out on some wander into the woods during class (don't worry, he knows where he's going), then he's pacing at the front of the classroom.
He has lots of fascinating tales about his many journeys to tell. Provided you can get him to open up and pry them out of him, of course.
On that note, Nasir is extremely secretive, especially with those that he does not yet trust or know. He will gladly talk to anybody, but if they start asking questions about who he is or where he comes from (even after returning to Goldoa, there are still certain things he would rather keep secret when he is away), he will take great lengths to not talk about himself or his past.
He is also extremely cryptic, and while he can talk a lot, he will just say thing sometimes that just... don't make sense. There is a high probability of him not elaborating even if the other muse tries to puzzle out what his words mean.
Don't fuck around with a man who is a retainer to a liege like Dheginsea.
He can be rather harsh with his words, when he thinks the situation calls for it. He will not hold his tongue if he believes someone needs to be aware of their shortcomings and faults. He usually doesn't mean any harm, but can offend anyway due to how harsh he can be.
PATCH NOTES AS OF 7/10/2024:
Narratively wise, he has asked to maintain the office he had before moving down to the town. He is paying rent though, so think of it as simply renting out an office space.
He will still be acting as a teacher, though it's more like he's an outside instructor offering his wisdom rather than a tenured professor. Rest assured his lovely students, class will still be the same time as always. Do not be late.
PATCH NOTES AS OF 2/01/2025:
For Nasir's arc until he eventually participates in a lore event, he is slipping back into a lot of old habits, and will continuously shift the blame onto others if he has to. (The blame shifting is unrelated to his old habits.) (Lots of lying, and much less opening up than he might have done in the past.)
He is not an ultimately very good person - though that is part of what makes him fascinating to me - and while he hasn't shown much of his overtly spiteful side since arriving in TOA, until he's fully confronted with consequences and some sort of life altering event happens, he will be much more outwardly hostile because instead of internalizing his feelings and processing them like a normal person, he lashes out at others.
While he may be able to be more reasonable and objective at a later point, until he has another character shift, he's going to be far quicker to respond with anger and hostility than anything else, especially with strangers.
He does not know the full extent of what happened, nor who is responsible, but because of the circumstances that he could have observed and seeing Fodlan fall into war, he is sorely disappointed in the people of this land. While not surprised, he is still disappointed that his more cynical worldview was proven correct in this instance. Good luck Fodlan muses especially on this one, you're going to need it.
I definitely have some thoughts about this one, because everyone else with a light affinity, bar Sephiran, have much more personable attitudes. And the idea that Nasir, famous pessimist, would have a light affinity when light is hope, with generally positive associations is very fascinating to me. I have no idea why they chose it for him, but the implications man. The implications.
HP
Makes sense that as a dragon, he'd be pretty sturdy. He notably maxes HP higher than either Ena or Kurthnaga, while he matches Gareth at his max (90, while Ena maxes 70 and Kurth maxes 80) Part of this may be that he's older and therefore has had more time to develop tougher skin/scales. Or maybe he's just built like that. Idk.
Strength
Haha. Yeah. You see that number up there? You see it? Good. Now, White Dragons are magic based, therefore it makes sense that he does not have good strength.
Magic
Again, White Dragons are magic based, and Nasir is fairly strong as other things considered.
Skill
He's old and has a lot of experience.
Speed
Decent, but not the fastest.
Luck
It makes sense that he would be lucky. With his talents and skill in generally, and along with his personality, having a higher luck stat makes sense for him.
Defense
While certainly nothing to scoff at, his defense is quite a bit lower than his resistance.
Resistance
To me it makes sense that someone with a high magic stat would also have a high resistance. Goes hand in hand; you know?
Consitution
What a healthy boy!
Weight
Dragon heavy. I don't think I have to say much more than that.
The house is humble, a single room with aged floorboards. A bed that creaks when she sits on it, a table with two empty chairs, and a mirror she's considered smashing to pieces. Almedha has only lived in worse conditions when she marched with that wretched band of mercenaries, with nary a shelter from th wind or the cold, her feet constantly aching.
This is an improvement, she supposes bitterly. But she can still allow herself to wallow in the misery.
Of course, this had been her own, wholehearted choice. She knew she would leave behind the relative comforts of Goldoa, though they did not feel like comforts at the time. She was prepared - so she thought - to lower herself, build up from the ground, grow like a thorny flower from a cliffside.
But the cliffside is steep, and her feet still hurt.
She managed to scrounge some money from her coffers back home - nothing worthy of any of her previous stations, but certainly enough for food and lodging until a better opportunity presents itself. The idea of going into town and making idle chatter with the locals and figuring out who will allow her to scrape and labor for coin is exhausting.
But perhaps, she doesn't have to yet. A new desire springs in her.
Just a bobble, she thinks. She needs to find a store in this little town with a shelf of pretty trinkets, and procure one for a semblance of succor. Something small to place on her shelf, to place on her neck to keep her grounded. Even peasants have such things, right?
She wanders. She asks around. She's directed to a quaint-looking general goods store, with the tip that the merchant is mysterious but affable. It's as good a lead as any. At last, with heaving lungs and aching soles, she presses the door open.
It's a beautiful store; shelves stocked with all manner of foodstuffs and sundries. Her eyes follow them all the way to the back counter, and sure enough: bobbles! Pretty things to set on her nightstand! Something to ease this dreadful ennui!
And then at last, she lays eyes on the shopkeeper. The horrifically familiar shopkeeper.
The air catches in her throat, a choked sound echoing from the doorway. Almedha is frozen in the threshold.
Nasir hears the strangled sound that comes out of the woman's mouth before he turns, the man already raising an eyebrow to himself, wondering what could possibly make a random customer gasp like that.
Except he finds when he does look that this is no random customer, but someone he knows very well. Someone he is not terribly fond of. But still; was her reaction really warranted? He wasn't that scary; now was he?
And yet he cannot blame her. He did have some rather choice words for her the last time they had met after all. Not that he is sorry for them. His points still stand, for he doubts that she has changed in such a short matter of time.
"Almedha," he spits out cooly, sea blue eyes staring frigidly at the woman, "Do you need something? Or were you unaware of me being the owner of this shop and simply wished to browse?"
He sighs, pressing an idle hand to his forehead where he can already feel a headache beginning to form. As much as he was loyal to Goldoa now, his king's remaining children were so... difficult. A real thorn in his side, compared to their father that was.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here in Fodlan," He pushes that same hand through his hair, fingers snaging on his curls, "Do tell me, how is dear Ena back in Goldoa?"
The blue-haired man follows with far more confidence than Elffin manages, each step marked by a trail of hesitance, slowing him further behind the other two. Trust was always in short supply, but this man had been granted none- even the modicum he usually allows, to believe that most did not intend to harm strangers.
In fact- so sure is the other man that he seems to almost taunt the merchant, something that causes the bard's steps to stop for a moment longer, unwilling to even contribute to what seemed to be a brewing conflict.
Thankfully, the strange seller seemed unperturbed. "Oh, no, no. What I'll be getting out of this is much more than any money can buy! And do not concern yourself with too much of the details, dear customer, as this experience is worth far more than anything your pockets can hold."
"It is a simple spell, see, but novel only because most do not consider it possible. It will draw from your memories a younger self of yours, that will act completely separately from you. After all, only by speaking to the past, can you only truly understand your present."
The man nods, as if he had said something wise, but Elffin wonders if it was too late to turn back and leave- that this only proved further his still growing suspicion was not unfounded; whether what this man was offering was possible or even helpful, the offer was not unmarked by strings.
Nasir raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue slightly in annoyance. The past, eh? As if that was not something he tried his damndest to avoid as much as he could. His past was hidden for a reason after all. Because he absolutely didn't want people knowing more about him than they had to. He'd lived a long life, he didn't need a strange merchant prying into it or to talk with a younger version of himself to be able to understand who he was.
And yet, he is terribly curious how this all works. So against his better judgement, he nods along with the merchant, playing the act of the perfectly interested customer.
If only because he is curious. Sometimes he needed to play the long game for his own gain.
"How fascinating," He hums with falsified honey in his tone, "I'm a very busy man however, so the sooner we can start the better. Don't you agree, friend?" He nods over to his compainion, a gentle smirk on his face.
The empress-turned-serving-girl stays silent, head bowed in feigned meekness at the harsh words. Is this what it feels like to be beholden to the whims of others? It’s… degrading, she realizes. It’s only the importance of her mission for which Sanaki manages to keep her head down and swallow her pride.
When the Goldoan retorts in her defense, though, her lowered eyes widen in mild surprise. The late dragon king's trusted left-hand-man cannot simply be nice. Surely he doesn’t extend the same cutting courtesy to all service staff, and so it must be a favor out of concern for her position. She bristles at the thought, but she can hardly afford to be ungrateful.
…In fact, if he’s willing to cover for her in this, perhaps she should repay him in kind… in the only currency that matters to those of his trade?
“…Well, um,” the maitre d’ hedges, clearly unsure how to respond to Nasir’s nonchalant tone, “I suppose she’s excused, then. You are most gracious, sir.” The policy of patron’s always right, as expected. “Come now, Annika, let us—”
“I—I’m sorry, sir master!” Sanaki cuts in, all air-headed penitence, dropping into a far clumsier curtsy than that which came naturally to her. “I don’t mean to be rude to customers!! It’s just, well, this is my uncle, I was just teasing!!!” Her voice grows even more shrill, hopefully enough to cover whatever expression Nasir’s making at this circus act. “He’s been looking for a bartending job, and I thought… I thought…!”
Turning her face away in what any unsuspecting onlooker would assume to be shame, she manages to look Nasir directly in the eyes. Her gaze sparkles with mischief. Play along. I promise it’ll be worth your while.
Nasir raises an eyebrow, chuckling softly to himself. If anyone truly believed that lie, they were a tried and true fool. Just looking at the two of them, there were clearly no similarities between them. Perhaps a distant uncle? It was as believable as it could be, he supposes. Certainly not the lie he would have come up with, but it would do in their current pinch.
So he smiles and decides to play along.
He stands with a polite nod, holding a hand out to her manager for him to shake, "Distant uncle. Barely related, honestly, but my dear niece is still nice enough to help a man down on his luck out."
He stares back at Sanaki, his own mischievous soul resonating with that look in her eyes. If she wanted to play this game, then he was more than happy to play along. He might as well make this little experience even more fun than it already had been for him.
Nasir was good at acting anyway. He'd been acting all his life, after all.
"I have many talents, if bartending is not your style. Whatever service you need me to provide, I am more than happy to. Provided it's for the right price, of course."
If there was anything Iago hated, it was waste. Wastes of time, wastes of power, waste of money. They were all connected ideas, synonymous with one another.
Still, that made every moment spent in meetings when he could be practicing a new torture method, a new plan for Lord Garon, back in the glory days, so much more painful.
And it seemed meaningless meets continued to this new land.
"..."
The message had been clear, no need for the thinly veiled threats that Iago had doled out in his homeland.
Still, it brought him to the surface.
Some shopkeep had done... something, to their wares. So when his... employees... found it completely abandoned and brought it to him, the information somehow managed its way that it had been taken.
And now it seemed Iago had hell to pay.
But he would not pay. He did not pay before for his work. He would not in the future.
"...You are Nasir, are you not?"
The shop was excruciatingly basic, to Iago. Not as rundown as his hovel in Abyss, but nothing compared to what was back in the area surrounding Krakenburg. An almost painful state, infuriating in how little it seemed to hold. Iago's store below may be pathetic, but it held promise. It would make his - and Nohr's - rebirth all the sweeter from where it came. This?
This was...
This was NOTHING!
"...I have your... good. I cannot claim to know how it ended up in my wares, but if you are so keen on seeing it returned... fine."
He could hold it. He could keep it. This old fart had no way of knowing that any money he made went to the noblest and greatest of causes - bringing Nohr back to how it should be.
"..."
He smelled. He smelled... wrong. Like if Corrin had lain with a wolfskin, this would be what was born. Definitively inhuman - he had too much experience torturing Kitsune soldiers to know the scents.
But he also couldn't see a tail. And that set him off a little more. It was different. He did not like it.
"Well? Are you going to chide me more? Because my face is not to be seen here, and I will not stay any longer than need be."
The smile across his lips is civil, while the fire that burns in his eyes is anything but, "I'd love to chide you, but I fear a tongue lashing is far less than what you deserve. If I were you, I would have done the smart thing, and never showed my face around here."
Nasir already hates how this man is looking at him, like he is trying to expose each and every one of his carefully guarded secrets. He'll be damned if he lets him even begin to try. He hasn't spent the last nearly hundred years concealing himself and forcing down all that came naturally to him for a mere sewer rat - not because he was living in the Academy's underground, but because he more resembled a common rodent than a beorc with hair like that - to try and tear it out of him with a mere glance.
"For all I care, you can have that trash. It'd be doing me a favour actually, cleaning up some of the mess in this place," He sneers, leaning over the counter while one of his hands drifts towards a knife hidden underneath his cloak, "But it's the principle of the matter, you see. I don't take too kindly to thieves, or in this case, those who employ them."
If this fool thought him to be nothing more than a wretched old man who didn't know what he was doing at all - and he would take great offense to the old man part, he was barely middle-aged - then he surely thought wrong. Nasir was a trained liar, molded by his years of service to Dheginsea and his natural tendency towards secrecy. He was not going to break so easily.
"I also don't appreciate this tone you're taking. Have some respect for your elders, boy."
"Is it actually your birthday? I was under the impression that you're not usually honest about personal matters."
The doubtful inquiry is accompanied by a tea set in one hand and a jar of tea leaves in the other. Fortunately, her standard-issue state gifts were in plentiful enough supply to accommodate several extra occasions, false or otherwise. She sets both objects on the shop counter, heaving a faux-beleaguered sigh.
"Well, I suppose I have no choice but to trust the calendar. Happy birthday, Nasir." She taps her foot expectantly. "If you would pour for the both of us, I'll even give you the chance to pleasantly try to weasel a few state secrets out of me.
Nasir did not expect anything to come of his birthday. He barely remembered the significance of the date these days, and he didn't care to tell anybody it either. He wasn't even sure if his own darling granddaughter knew when his birthday was.
In the grand scheme, it didn't matter. He was old enough already - and yet barely middle-aged - what was one more year? His age, his birthday, it didn't matter when he still had hundreds of years left to live.
Of course since Sanaki is so nicely presenting this gift to him though, he must accept, even if it is a little late.
"Shame the calendar isn't reliable. My birthday was a week ago," He says with a harsh chuckle. A mere week slips away in a second to a dragon laguz like him, but to hear they had missed the date by that much surely would be more of a shock to any beorc, "Better late than never I suppose. Allow me but a moment to brew this. Even if it's late, the offer of state secrets is more than a tantalizing birthday gift, little Sanaki. How could I turn such an opportunity down?"
Chrom nods, taking in every word as best as he could. Acting as staff in someone else’s noble home was not so different from how he was expected to behave as royalty himself. The retainers always encouraged him to never walk too fast, to never walk too slow. To always maintain an air of vigilance about him, and to behave in the most befitting of someone like he should. Those matters of etiquette never left him, loathe he were to admit that.
He follows Nasir and his watchful gaze as they make their way to the dining hall. Chrom maintains himself far better than he reasonably should. It’s not ideal, but he did understand these situations better than most. This is fine, I offered my help after all. As they enter the dining hall, people were gathered, staff and nobles alike as they ate their fill. Chrom smiles as he begins to do his dues.
Cleaning. A most tiresome task.
As he began his perilous foray into cleaning, a couple of staff had been chatting about. One of them waves at Chrom, noticing his efforts as she soon joins in. “New guy, huh? You at this alone?” He shakes his head, and gestures over to Nasir. The staff smiles, as she offers help to the two men. “Two new guys? Damn, things must be rough then.”
Confused, Chrom cocks his head ever so slightly. “I’m sorry?” The woman laughs, as the swirl of a mop creates a vortex against the wooded floor. “It’s just… Two new guys in such a short time? Things must be dire, in an all hands on deck sort of way.”
Chrom laughs, though a bit awkwardly. He didn’t want to speak far too much, lest he were to gain the ire of his fellow ‘new guy’. He chose not to announce his status as an Exalt choosing to do volunteer work willingly, concerned that such an announcement might be another sign of the ‘dire times’. Though, he was confused. Were things really that bad to need two volunteers? “So, where are you two from? You don’t look like you’re from any nation in Fodlan.”
“Ah-” a bit startled, he shakes his head. “I’m from Ylisse.” The woman nods. “Foreign lands. Knew it… damn, things really are bad... And how about you, tall, quiet and handsome?” the staff turns to face Nasir, speaking matter-of-factly rather than with any distinct emotion in her tone. “You also from Ylisse?”
"No," Nasir says emotionlessly, ice cold gaze leveled at the the woman. He speaks no further than that. Those here at this manor have not earned the right to know anymore about him than they absolutely have to. Not even his blue-haired companion here. He had his secrets, and he would prefer to keep them that way. Secret, "All you need to know is that I'm foreign to Fodlan. Pry any further and I fear you may not end up liking the answers that you find."
It's a threat certainly, but one he could easily back up if he needed to. So long as no one pried, nothing would have to happen. He would stay the cool and collected, albeit mysterious, new hire.
"You seem surprised to see that there are two of us," He quickly changes the topic with ease, picking up on that which had been cast aside in favor of digging into their backgrounds, "For one, we could have came to Fodlan for entirely unrelated reasons, don't assume so rashly that we came here only to work. And second... whatever do you mean by things being dire around here? Forgive a mere lowly new hire if he is speaking out of line, but one cannot help being a little curious when many are making such remarks under their breaths."
Even in a place as bustling as the town of Garreg Mach, there can be found little secrets tucked away in forgotten alleys and abandoned streets. Among such secrets is a two-storey manor not far from the central square, average in all ways except for the fact that it’s stood empty for who-knows-how-long. Lacy drapes still frame the dusty, vacant eyes of windows, and the stone pots sitting along the porch hold the dried, dead remnants of what had once been flowers, suggesting that the house has never been fully relinquished to another owner. Although it’s gone unnoticed for quite some time now, rumors about hauntings and paranormal activity in this house have begun to circulate among the students of the Officers Academy. It’s said that this house - colloquially called the Lily Bolden House, after its last owner - contains the vengeful spirits of the Bolden family murdered by one of their own, and that they kill all those who dare set foot inside. So, naturally, as confident as you are in your own abilities to escape certain death, you’d want to see this for yourself, right? [Grants Authority +1]
Dimitri believed in ghosts.
Yes, he'd been teased about it by his friends over it, the skeptical prince who believed in the supernatural. As a young child, he'd proudly told people that he didn't believe in ghouls or monsters in the dark. He had the heart of a lion (as Lambert would tell him) and was too brave to be scared of phantoms.
Then he started being haunted. Hard to deny the existence of ghosts when the forms of Lambert, Glenn and others haunt his daily life, watching, demanding.
Thus Dimitri found himself wandering down winding alleys till arriving at the shadowy lane with the rumoured 'haunted house'. The gates to the property were shut and there was another stood outside them. Approaching the man, Dimitri asked
He was a rational man. Placing faith in the dead being still present in this world was a ridiculous thought. Without the evident proof, not even a notrious liar could believe in those kind of things existing at all. Besides, beorc and their fragile short lives came up with such interesting stories to try and feel their loved ones even after death, to believe that they could have at least a few more moments with them.
However, the so called "haunted house" does catch upon his ears and pique his interest. If nothing else, an old and closed off house had a story to tell. And perhaps a few old relics that no one cared about anymore.
The white dragon perks up from where he had been staring absentmindly at the front gates at the arrival of another, turning to the boy with a cordial smile plastered across his face, "You could say that. I don't believe in ghosts, but the story of this house caught my interest nevertheless. A quaint little secret it makes, and I wish to uncover what it truly holds inside."
Raven did not dislike children, and had never, and while this was seemed intent on vocalizing every displeasure it had ever known in its short life (something that he was beginning to suspect was even shorter than it looked outwardly), he still was less irritated and more of a mind to soothe the child and cease the screams.
The shop was filled with...well, the best way he could describe it was this and that. Shelves more piled than stocked, and with such a veritable mish mash of things that it was difficult to appropriately parse it as a shop in truth. His eyes scanned the space, tabletops covered in books and fabrics and knick knacks, and finding little immediately that would soothe a babe..
"Hungry, tired, needs changing, hurt...bored?" Raven began to list the things that could, presumably, cause a child such discomfort – things, in short, that needed to be solved that a child could not handle on its own.
"I don't believe it's hungry or tired. I'm not changing it," he continued pointedly, "And I'm no healer. If it's boredom...well. There must be something in this place that could help with that."
It was a more hopeful statement than he was used to making.
Turning, his eyes alighted on a little stick of bells, brightly painted wood and cloche bells wrapped in a satin ribbon. Gently, he picked the thing up, the ring of the bells stuttering the babe's cries for just a moment as it turned its head in Raven's direction.
Nasir sighs softly, the child still wailing but settling slightly as it was passed back into his more trained arms. There were many things that caused a child to cry, but most of them easy to solve. Of course, they had to know what was ailing it first to be able to apply those solutions. Of course, his companion is right. Boredom would be the easiest problem to solve.
Within his shop, Nasir had no shortage of things that could entertain a small child for a while. Or at least until they found a more permanent solution for this little problem.
Nasir smiles softly at the quizzical expression on the baby's face as it glances towards the direction of the jingling bells, chuckling to himself while the young child stares at the toy.
"Do you like that?" He asks the baby with complete seriousness. He'd never found it very productive to talk to young children like they were stupid, and baby talk didn't suit him at all anyway, "Perhaps if you keep him distracted with that, we can have a moment to figure out what to do with him in the long run. I certainly can't keep him forever, I do not have the wherewithal to raise another child at the moment."
How pitiable he must be, being victim to this strange ailment. It was already embarrassing having to walk amongst the town streets pretending that he wasn’t suffering. He didn’t know why he felt just as much even in front of his coworker. Much of their time together was spent serving the Goldoan royal family, and while they formed a bond of trust, he still feels as if there's still a gulf separating the two.
And so when Nasir — a laguz of many social masks — offers his support so readily, it makes him wonder whether that gap is steadily closing.
The petal in his fist gets crumpled up, and despite this condition weakening him to where he must keep his voice down to avoid any further pain, his frustration is apparent as he huffs through his nose. “I don’t wish to see you worrying so much about me either, friend.” He looks up to meet eyes with him. Seeing that face laden with concern sends an unexpected pang in his chest, different from the symptoms he's facing. “It’s… supposed to be me who works to ease the burdens of others. I have never felt like this much a weakling since a long time ago...”
What would happen if this was an everlasting disease? Will there come a point where if untreated, it’ll end up taking his life?
There’s a certain type of rage boiling from within, wanting to incinerate the vines that try to root themselves into his body. If it were not for his decision to meet up with Nasir, he might’ve gone off into the woods and tried to solve this through his transformed state. Thank the Goddess that he isn’t that foolish.
“Yes. Yes, I would greatly appreciate that…” Water is certainly better than nothing at all. “I have faith in you.”
He doesn’t have the courage to say that if he ever gets a premonition that it would only get worse, he wouldn’t hesitate to write back to Goldoa regarding his fate. Planting more seeds of worry won't help.
"If you are always taking care of others; who will take care of you?" Nasir mutters softly before quickly leaving the room and returning with a glass of water in his hands. The water inside the glass sways gently, and Nasir hadn't realized his hands were shaking until then. Is it simply his worry as a friend... or is it something more...?
His affections had never been anything more than that, just simple pining over someone who was the only person he could consider a close friend these days. But the thought of losing him... it shakes Nasir to his very core unlike anything else.
He had already lost his Lynet long ago, returned to Goldoa too late to stop the events that had led to her death. He would not watch Gareth waste away before his eyes. Not like this.
"The rumors going around are not exactly clear on what causes this, but some more romantic gossipers seem to think that it has something to do with one's own heart rather an outside force," The white dragon sighs softly, running a nervous hand through his curled hair as he places the glass down beside Gareth, "A curse of one's own making forcing them to confront things head on rather than keeping them buried. Or so I have heard."
Yet another day, yet another crate of hatchlings. Saber hip-checks the door open, arms busy with the crate, and the bag of birdseed, and the nesting materials, and the water feeder, and—
Look, none of this stuff is actually heavy, not for a guy who's spent his whole life doing grunt work, as a soldier or as a sellsword. It's just that the birds are always jostling around, and for Mila's sake, why do none of these objects properly stack on top of each other? And so when Saber's precarious tower wobbles, threatens to topple out of his hands entirely—
"Ah, shit—"
He stumbles forward, only to crash directly into something, or rather, someone else.
Saber blinks dumbly. The good part: nothing's on the floor, most definitely not the damn birds, so none of the kids better complain when he gets back, okay? The not-so-good part: he's far, far too close to this... hmm... complete stranger. Saber's sure. He's quite confident he would remember a face like this one.
Brown eyes meet blue, and the mercenary takes a step back, no longer caging them in. "Hey. Sorry about that," he says, cracking a crooked grin, only a little sheepish. "Could ya—" a roguish jerk of his chin towards the counter behind the other, "so I can put all this down?"
Nasir chuckles softly as the other man stumbles into him, remaining as firm and still as a tree in the midst of a quiet forest. Anyone who knew him would likely remark that it was entirely unusual for him to remain so steadfast in one place. Nasir was a man who was always on the move after all, if not travelling, then moving his body in one way or another.
But his stillness now is for one very important reason. That being: one of the little birds in this hatchery has taking a liking to him, or rather, his hair. He had tried moving earlier, only to upset it and send it into a hysteric squaking fit. Much to his displeasure he couldn't move, for if he does, he's almost certain that the small bird may end up pooping in his hair as protest. And he didn't exactly wish to be washing that out later.
"Move? I'd love to, but I don't wish to disturb the little one atop my head," He says, gesturing to the aforementioned bird making a messy nest out of his curls. He glances down at the man, noting his rather attractive face. Shame his heart was already stolen by another, or he might remark to himself that this stranger was exactly his type.
"Carrying an awful lot for one person; aren't you there?" Long lashes flutter over his sea blue eyes as Nasir chuckles softly to himself once more, "Don't you have anyone to help you? Or are you working all by your lonesome, handsome?"
Of course, just because his affections lay elsewhere, that didn't mean he couldn't tease the poor sap a little.
It starts, he's certain, as a marketplace rumor—excited whispers about a panacea gifted by the gods from a land far, far away, said to be able to cure everything so long as a single breath remained. But as all rumors do, it spreads like wildfire, with each detail changing as it passes from ear to ear. One story claims that the medicine will be granted to whomever prays for seven days and seven nights with such devotion that they reject even food and water as they commune with the gods. Another alleges differently, arguing that the panacea is merely holy water blessed by a priest from each of the cardinal directions.
All in all, Libra finds them relatively easy to ignore. Prayer alone—devotion alone—does not cure what rots and festers in the soul. And priests, no matter where they hail from, are mere men and woman of the cloth; at the end of the day, they are no different from their believers.
The shopkeep, an older merchant with a fake, crystal eye, must agree. She clicks her tongue as the next stall over whispers excitedly about the rumors, counting Libra's change with a look of disdain. "Load of hogwash, that," she says. "Must'a been some child who overheard and spread the tale. Cure all's right, but it ain't no divine gift, that's for sure."
Libra pauses, accepting the coins with a look of surprise. "Pardon? There's some truth to these stories, then?"
"Aye," the shopkeep replies. Her crystal eye remains unmoving, even as two others approach her stall to peruse her wares. Libra vaguely recognizes them from the Academy. "There's a wee village down the valley. Roads ain't made for carriages, so it's rare for anyone to travel back n' forth, but folks from 'round those parts always knew that lasses from the village could shed tears that could fix 'em all."
Libra frowns. Though a part of him still doesn't think this version of the tale to be any more believable than the other variations, he finds himself inquiring further. "If such a story was true, then would their abilities not be widely known…? This is first I'm hearing of such a thing."
But the shopekeep shakes her head. "Can't expect people to hear somethin' like that and leave 'em well enough alone. The villagers were either killed or hauled off 'fore a lass like you was born." Her bony fingers tap against her wooden table, and Libra can't find the opportunity to correct her. "But, word says there's actually a survivor. A young wench, if real rumors are to be believed. Some uppity ol' kinda noble, Baron… Althaus, I think—he's s'posed to have her workin' for scraps. Real horrible conditions, enough to make the girl cry, so he's sellin' off those magic tears of hers. Highest bidder wins, obviously, so the rich folks are all gettin' excited."
The horror must be evident on Libra's face, because the shopkeep grins.
"Nastier than the rumors, mm?" she chuckles, and turns her eye to her other two customers. "You lot're from the Academy, I see. Always been great customers. So, how's this—buy more of my wares, totalin' a thousand gold 'tween the three of you, and I'll share the auction's location." Her smile widens, but her crystal eye doesn't seem to catch the sunlight. "What say you, hm? Lass here's already bought four hundred worth."
"You strike a hard bargin, madam," Nasir smirks, knowing that this was far more of a generous deal than one that he would have struck. He didn't work for free unless it was for the one man he had pledged his loyalty to. A merchant was a merchant no matter what after all, and Nasir was a very good merchant.
In truth, he could probably find the location of the auction on his own, with the information he had already been able to gather, but he's in an indulging mood today. That, and the two men who have also found themselves here are more than intriguing enough for Nasir.
"But I am willing to acquiesce. Afraid I'm only carrying about three hundred gold at the moment, so the other gentleman will have to cover the rest if that is alright with him?" A bold face lie, easily disproven from the weight of the wallet hanging off of his belt, but he had more important things to use that oh so dear money for at the moment. For example: those very tears that they were being directed to at this exact moment.
"Forgive me if this sounds rude," He didn't particuarly care if it did, "But neither of you men seem like the bidding type. Do tell me; why are you here then if not to participate in the auction?"
