You've entered Radz-at-Han by this port only the one time before, and this time when you look upwards, it's not in unfamiliar wonder at an unfamiliar city. It's with the same slight release of tension in your shoulders as the sailors who walk past you to unload at the port, to finally return to familiar soil after so long at sea.
(You carry one of the crates to shore yourself, because you may as well, and it helps work the regrowth of the muscles in your arms. For your own things, you travelled light.)
The docks at the base of the city cliffs are thronged with all manner of people, and you pass among them without much remark, even as unusual a sight as you are, a crimson-haired viera amidst a sea of Raen, Hyur, and Arkasodara. Fortunately, the people of Thavnair are a friendly lot, well-used to exotic travellers, and while you get a few looks of curiosity, it's nothing like what you know now awaits in Eorzea, where your kind are virtually unknown.
Last time, you spoke immediately to everyone you could, to seek out lodgings and employment. This time, though you're not unfriendly, you walk the streets with entirely different purpose, your senses pricked for a particular aether signature.
It takes far less time to find him than you would have expected. Perhaps, you cannot help but think, Meracydia is not so forgotten in his heart even now. Why else would he have come to witness the arrival of this particular ship?
(Or perhaps your song truly did echo across that great sea - if it did, then you imagine his curiosity must be very great indeed.)
The boy is similar-looking enough to Varshahn that you could easily have called them brothers. A year or two older, with thicker horns and the same dark green hair, but this time grown out enough to braid back at the nape. His clothes are much the same, and his eyes are equally red, if not a hair brighter, closer to the true crimson of the eye disguised within his chest.
There's a flick of curiosity in those eyes, which grows as you approach. The polite smile is the same, as is the accent, as he says, "Welcome, traveler. Is this your first time in Thavnair?"
"Yes and no," you say, because both are true; it is not your first time in Thavnair, but it's Thavnair's first time hosting you. "It's been a long journey, so forgive my bluntness - I would like to speak to the satrap, if you're able. It concerns his sister."
You spent far too long figuring out exactly what you would say, to convince him to hear you out when you have nothing but your words and knowledge. In the end, you just put as many of your cards on the table as you safely can in a public place.
To the best of your knowledge, Ahewann has no sisters.
The boy's eyes narrow suspiciously. "And what is it about her that you would speak of?" he asks.
"She lives," you say simply, almost crudely, in comparison to what the words truly mean. To what they mean to him. You say it again, in the language that carries with it your intent, in the tongue of dragons that is nearly as much your mother tongue as it is his - "Azdaja lives."
It's impressive, the journey that his expression goes on, all the more because you know that what lies underneath is not a being used to the expressiveness of a human face. You wonder if it shows as naturally because of something the alchemists did, because the flicker from suspicion to hope to relief so close together can't have been from practice.
The boy tosses his head slightly as though to shake away the overwhelming feelings, and says, "That is... significant news indeed. I had given up all hope of hearing it." The words are genuine; they sound ripped from the chest. "And how is it that you came by this information?"
It's said with as much suspicion as he can muster, but you smile in relief yourself, because - you've gotten this much, at least. You're confident you can talk him around now that the door is opened, because at the end of the day, you want the same things. You say, "It's one hell of a story, and one best not shared on the docks where anyone might overhear."
"Of course," Vrtra's vessel replies. "Forgive my impatience. If it pleases you, I shall go on ahead to Meghaduta and arrange rooms for you. Tell the guards at the door that you're a guest of Viradahn and they shall bring you inside."
"It's appreciated," you say, inclining your head. "I look forward to it. Though - prepare food for an extra, if you would. I have a companion who will be joining us."
'Viradahn' nods and takes his leave, turning off into the crowd as though at a rush - though, of course, you're sure that before he's even out of your sight, preparations for your stay are already underway. The benefit to being in two places at once.
no subject
(You carry one of the crates to shore yourself, because you may as well, and it helps work the regrowth of the muscles in your arms. For your own things, you travelled light.)
The docks at the base of the city cliffs are thronged with all manner of people, and you pass among them without much remark, even as unusual a sight as you are, a crimson-haired viera amidst a sea of Raen, Hyur, and Arkasodara. Fortunately, the people of Thavnair are a friendly lot, well-used to exotic travellers, and while you get a few looks of curiosity, it's nothing like what you know now awaits in Eorzea, where your kind are virtually unknown.
Last time, you spoke immediately to everyone you could, to seek out lodgings and employment. This time, though you're not unfriendly, you walk the streets with entirely different purpose, your senses pricked for a particular aether signature.
It takes far less time to find him than you would have expected. Perhaps, you cannot help but think, Meracydia is not so forgotten in his heart even now. Why else would he have come to witness the arrival of this particular ship?
(Or perhaps your song truly did echo across that great sea - if it did, then you imagine his curiosity must be very great indeed.)
The boy is similar-looking enough to Varshahn that you could easily have called them brothers. A year or two older, with thicker horns and the same dark green hair, but this time grown out enough to braid back at the nape. His clothes are much the same, and his eyes are equally red, if not a hair brighter, closer to the true crimson of the eye disguised within his chest.
There's a flick of curiosity in those eyes, which grows as you approach. The polite smile is the same, as is the accent, as he says, "Welcome, traveler. Is this your first time in Thavnair?"
"Yes and no," you say, because both are true; it is not your first time in Thavnair, but it's Thavnair's first time hosting you. "It's been a long journey, so forgive my bluntness - I would like to speak to the satrap, if you're able. It concerns his sister."
You spent far too long figuring out exactly what you would say, to convince him to hear you out when you have nothing but your words and knowledge. In the end, you just put as many of your cards on the table as you safely can in a public place.
To the best of your knowledge, Ahewann has no sisters.
The boy's eyes narrow suspiciously. "And what is it about her that you would speak of?" he asks.
"She lives," you say simply, almost crudely, in comparison to what the words truly mean. To what they mean to him. You say it again, in the language that carries with it your intent, in the tongue of dragons that is nearly as much your mother tongue as it is his - "Azdaja lives."
It's impressive, the journey that his expression goes on, all the more because you know that what lies underneath is not a being used to the expressiveness of a human face. You wonder if it shows as naturally because of something the alchemists did, because the flicker from suspicion to hope to relief so close together can't have been from practice.
The boy tosses his head slightly as though to shake away the overwhelming feelings, and says, "That is... significant news indeed. I had given up all hope of hearing it." The words are genuine; they sound ripped from the chest. "And how is it that you came by this information?"
It's said with as much suspicion as he can muster, but you smile in relief yourself, because - you've gotten this much, at least. You're confident you can talk him around now that the door is opened, because at the end of the day, you want the same things. You say, "It's one hell of a story, and one best not shared on the docks where anyone might overhear."
"Of course," Vrtra's vessel replies. "Forgive my impatience. If it pleases you, I shall go on ahead to Meghaduta and arrange rooms for you. Tell the guards at the door that you're a guest of Viradahn and they shall bring you inside."
"It's appreciated," you say, inclining your head. "I look forward to it. Though - prepare food for an extra, if you would. I have a companion who will be joining us."
'Viradahn' nods and takes his leave, turning off into the crowd as though at a rush - though, of course, you're sure that before he's even out of your sight, preparations for your stay are already underway. The benefit to being in two places at once.
If only you could manage that.