gurabad | 023 » these shallow waters never met what i needed

[Skirmishes with the beast tribes of Eorzea are not news. Rarely do they qualify even as gossip, unless the outcome is particularly swift or brutal. It nonetheless surprises Coeleste, taking her ease and a pint in the Bobbing Cork, to hear of Natalan Ixali warriors advancing from the snowy Coerthan wastes. When no one is looking, she rolls her eyes and takes a long last drink. There is never an end to any of this, is there?

Circumstances aside, the _ is brief and unremarkable, with the feathered aggressors beating a retreat and the Wood Wailers picking each other up from among roots and broken stones. One of them had the misfortune to tap a nest of bombs (or whatever it is bombs call their lairs) and though it led to victory for the Wailers it also led to a lot of smoke, burns, and flying rock shards.

Coel bends to pick up one such shard and nearly drops it. It's warm, and not at all made of stone. This looks much more like what comes of a machinist's spent shot... Well, if Stephanivien is about, he's far from home and wandered a long way in pursuit of a tribe he cares nothing for. In her periphery she catches sight of a yellowish flash and while it could be a chocobo...

...Further investigation reveals a crouching Hyuran form in the shadows instead. Whoever it is has uncertainty in their posture, if not something more hesitant. Not the uniform of a Wailer or Quiver, either.]

They're gone. [Those that could retreat. The clouds and thin fog muffle her voice somewhat, so three steps closer she goes.] Your business is your own, but ware the fog thickening and hiding the way back.

Oh! Uh... hey there!

[the blond hyur braced against a rock is an oddity to say the least. his clothes don't look anything like what they make in eorzea, but they're not quite of garlean make, either; garleans don't hem their vests in colorful plaid or wear coeurl-print pants. the gun in his hand is smaller and sleeker than the sort that stephanivien makes, though, and perhaps that is something of garlean manufacture.

but hostile imperials generally dont look like lost chocobo chicks with their head feathers bobbing in the breeze.]

Uh, got a question for you. Fighting against giant bird people? Is that a regular occurrence around here?

Edited 2017-01-13 17:07 (UTC)

[Though she can't spot all the details, Coeleste notes his manner of dress is a bit...sharper and cleaner-cut than favored by any Twelveswood native. Not to mention the extra flair. There is something off about his manner of speech, too, but it doesn't raise her guard listening to him. Hells, he looks about as out of place as-

As she did when she was new to the realm. Already she prays for better for this adventure-seeker than she has herself faced.]

In this area of the Twelveswood, yes. The proper term for their people is "Ixal". [She grins quickly.] "Birdmen" will serve in almost any local conversation, though.

[Another few steps closer. ...What is that material making up his garments, exactly? Once she spots the firearm (with no aether converter, at that) she stops advancing.]

Forgive my presumptions, but would you care for a bit of compaany back to Fallgourd? You seem rather shaken.

Uh... yeah! Yeah, I could use that. I... don't think my friends are around.

[apparently, he's sharp enough to notice how coeleste's advance is stopped short once her eyes fall on the weapon in his hand. he looks down at it, and then makes as if he's going to toss it over his shoulder — except, rather than fall to the ground behind him, it just disappears into what seems like a burst of aether.

it's not like she's said anything to indicate that she doesn't trust him, but all the same, he holds up both hands as he stands — i'm unarmed — then casually laces them behind his head as he walks over.]

What's Fallgourd? Is it a town?

Edited 2017-01-13 20:27 (UTC)

[Both eyebrows shoot up as his weapon vanishes. She has seen more than her fair share of tricks and sleights using the aether and something about this one seemed...different. He either intuits or coincidences "show the lady with the bow that you aren't going to shoot" and...is shorter than she expected, but the combination of friendly stance and whatever it is his hair is doing gets him another half-smile.]

"Town" is a bit too lively a description, I'm afraid. But it is peaceful and well-defended. [If the threat is spotted in advance. Coeleste glances around at the mist.] Your friends?

Yeah, uh, I'm supposed to be with three other guys, and a car. I... don't know what to tell you about them. We're all devilishly handsome and wearing a lot of black leather.

[the mysterious stranger shakes his head. he seems preoccupied with his clothes; he picks a stray twig off his shoulders, then looks up and smiles again.]

But they're not here. If they were, they would have heard me in that last fight. Boy, I did not expect birds.

Anyway! My name's Prompto. What's yours, uh... ma'am?

[He's cheerful for someone absent his friends and his "car". Coel shakes her head at his description of them, and if that is leather she isn't sure she wants to bring this man anywhere near Gridania after all. Geva might skin him in multiple ways.

But she starts picking her way around large exposed roots.]

It's Coeleste. [With a gentle shudder at the "ma'am".] They're not birds, though. They're beastmen. They harry the people living here and prey upon the wood in other ways, but- [She looks around again.] I can't say it's entirely undeserved all the time. How long has it been since you mislaid your friends?

[the full gist of prompto argentum's train of thought goes something like this:

by now, he has absolutely figured out that he, his friends, and the regalia have somehow wound up in another world; what's more, he completely understands that this is some kind of crazy fantasy world, with elves, knights, dragons — and, apparently, giant birdmen. coeleste's appearance doesn't surprise him; nor does (what seems to be) her aversion to his gun. he imagines, however, that gladio and ignis might have a harder time adapting.

anyway, there's no reason not to go with a friendly (and pretty) elf woman offering to take you to a nearby village, right? and if this is like an rpg, he can probably pick up new equipment there. not that he needs it — he trusts his crownsguard uniform — but it would help him stand out a bit less while he looks for noct and iggy and gladio.

he does feel a little bad for the ixal that he killed. but it was self-defense, and the first thing he learned in the crownsguard self-defense courses was to kill without remorse if necessary.]

Coeleste! Pretty name.

Hmm, it hasn't been that long. Less than a day. I don't have a watch on me to tell the time, but I guess it's been a few hours? Five or six? Or maybe seven. I've got a bad sense of time. And of direction.

[Killing without (much) remorse is somewhere around fifth or sixth on the list of things adventurers have to learn - especially if the object of your potential remorse is coming at you with a machete - and while certain members of one Ixal clan aren't so bad...the rest favor the machetes.

And while he has said at least three words that mean nothing to her in the past minute, she can be a good guesser when she has a mind.]

You've been separated for less than a day, you don't know of Fallgourd Float, and you're hardly dressed for the climate of Coerthas. [None of which is unheard-of on a fresh-faced adventurer, but most at least pass through a city-state and then get lost.] What are their names, then? Your friends. We can at least ask after them.

[prompto pauses for a fraction of a moment before rattling off his friends' names without hesitation.]

I'm looking for, uh... Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio — well, that's Gladiolus, but everyone just calls him Gladio. Don't suppose they've made names for themselves already?

[it's dangerous to talk too much about oneself, prompto knows. nevertheless, they're not princes or fugitives here, he figures, unless noctis has already managed to offend someone somewhere. he rubs his hands on his jeans as he walks over roots, rocks, grasses, and dirt. some lumbering treants in the distance catch his eye, and he stares at them like he's never seen anything like them before (in a way, he hasn't).]

Those aren't names I'm familiar with, no. [Right now, Coeleste is certain this Prompto is feeding her a very long yarn half-plied with lies. Maybe more than half. She follows his gaze to the treants, their branched heads visible even in the mist. The sound of their footfalls crunching leaves and twigs is blunted, too.]

They may look threatening, but most varieties of treant in this area mind their manners so long as you mind yours. You need only ware the largest. [His awe and fear is a bit amusing. She's sure she looked at these things in just such a way once.]

Someone will be able to get you sorted. It isn't much farther to- [That wasn't the sound of a seedkin's footstep. Coel keeps moving, but lowers her voice and slows her steps.] We'll be there soon.

[prompto, being prompto, does not pick up on the need for stealth; he continues to talk loudly, perfectly relaxed, like this is just some jaunty walk through the woods.]

Yeah? Well, that's probably for the best. ...Hey, what do you mean, "someone will get me sorted?" Are you just gonna ditch me there? [guest characters don't normally leave your party that soon, come on.] I mean, okay, you can ditch me there if you have to. I won't be offended. It's just, uh, you know...

[In the interest of their safety, she turns to face him directly and puts two fingers over her lips. He can keep talking, but quieter, please.]

I've no intention of...leaving you to yourself if you would rather otherwise, but. [A tug and twist and the bow comes off her back and into her hand.] As I do not know your friends. [Then an arrow into the other, a swift draw and she turns and aims into the fog behind Prompto.] I don't know as I'd be much help on my own, either.

[And- fires! Somewhere nearby a diremite's screech and scrabbling feet echo. She didn't pick it out with sound alone, though. If Prompto turns fast enough, he'll see the glow of its eyes fade as well.]

Gridanians have a tendency toward their own, rather than outsiders, including the adventurers they hire to carry out their errands. You may encounter some resistance even if they have heard of your friends.

Edited 2017-01-15 05:25 (UTC)

[prompto stops completely at the sudden diremite kill, mostly because of a mixture of such scintillating thoughts as wow that sure was an arrow flying over his shoulder and wow this elf lady is really cool. he looks over his shoulder at the dead spider, then turns back, grinning wildly through the mist.]

— That was so cool! [he practically leaps forward out of excitement.] Wait, wait, could you teach me to do that? I know it's not the same thing, but I'm a pretty good shot!

[At his sudden move forward, Coeleste takes a stutter-step back. He's...certainly energetic. And beaming far wider than he ought, it was a clean shot and out of necessity with a bit more flair than she prefers but really- ]

Teach you? [She doesn't sound affronted. It's more like she isn't sure she heard him properly.] Archery? I...

[She has tried her hand at the machinist's trade, courtesy of some Ishgardian friends, but while she can see and aim at a very distant target, the experience of shooting is wholly different, and the residual embarrassment colors her cheeks. But the diremite put her on edge and her nerves are still at attention, as they will remain until they get somewhere a touch less exposed. Coeleste opts to keep her bow in her hand for now. Just in case.]

Might we...discuss that once we're arrived?

Oh! Yeah, yeah. It's chill. No worries.

[prompto practically skips along the forest floor after coeleste, which is quite the feat considering that the forest floor is not a particularly even surface. north shroud is scenic, at least when the diremites aren't around to obstruct the view; he thinks about taking some pictures. he's not worried about his life in the least. oh, it'd be nice to have his friends around, of course, but heroic adventures never end this early. surely this pretty elf lady will keep him safe a little while longer!]

[Good, perhaps that put him off the trail for a time. She watches their environment with her free hand at the ready to draw if necessary. Leading Prompto along is like dangling a chocobo chick at the end of a lead for curious predators. ...At least, it feels like that. He has a freshness and unchecked energy to him that suggest he'll dart off after a nutkin or ladybug at the slightest provocation.

Not to mention he keeps leaving the ground in little skip hops. He's certainly of a manner unlike to any marksman she has known before.]

If you're cold, you might be able to find a cloak or coat against the mist in Fallgourd. [He's wiry and light-framed for a Hyur but so are many merchants and porters.]

Uh, that's not what I meant by chill, but...

[he shrugs his sleeveless shoulders, then tucks his arms behind his head.]

Well, I guess it is kind of cold. And I bet I'd look pretty good with a cloak, huh? Fancy. Ah, but I guess a small town wouldn't have fancy stuff. Gotta start at level one.

[whatever level one is, it doesn't stay on his mind for long as the gates of fallgourd come into view. he squints in the mist.]

Is that it?

That's it. [At this distance she feels safe putting away the arrow and settling the bow across her back again. Fallgourd is most impressive in the noon sunlight, alas.

As they pass by the guards on this side, Coel gets and returns silent nods. The aetheryte has a very small crowd, a few injured wailers sitting about while their healers or friends tend to them speckled between the usual merchants and sightseers. They round it - she'll slow down if Prompto seems keen on taking in the sights, such as they are - and head for the Bobbing Cork. An enthusiastic woman at an outdoor anvil nearby waves and calls her name.

Despite the wave back, Coel ducks her head to hide a momentary smile. The Ixal may have just attacked but casualties were few and things seem peaceful again already. At once she seems to remember Prompto is there, looking over at him.]

It's a bit hard to get lost here. [Since the settlement is ... small.] This building houses what few overnight guests it can, and the tavern is over there.

[There's a kind of slant to how she says 'tavern' because it's ... not, quite, but it serves the right purpose.]

023 » these shallow waters never met what i needed

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