| [once upon a time, foreign dignitaries from all walks of life sought audience with the scions of the seventh dawn. in days past — that glory period after operation archon, when all eorzea seemed united for a moment — the waking sands were inundated with calls to action from merchant-princes, barons, pirate captains, and beleaguered commonfolk, day after day, night after night. poor tataru labored from dawn 'til dusk over the tall stacks of correspondence that dwarfed her lalafellin frame.
but then the scions lost their standing after the botched assassination of nanamo ul namo — and though their names were eventually cleared, the attentions of the populace never seemed to return to their organization in quite the same way.
it's just as well, francel figures. fame and fortune never suited the scions of the seventh dawn.] |
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