Call Me Out!

[thancredible]

Prithee come and tag with me
my wondrous maidens fair.
We'll have such fun in the RP sun -
just don't mess up my hair.

Comments

pre-soulpain

[azeymarose]

[There are times when it's not favorable to end a long day of traipsing around Thanalan by finding a seat at the far end of the bar counter in the Quicksand. As night descends, Coeleste decides this is not one of those times, sidling into the guild with a nod to Momodi.

It is not much of a night for conversation, she thinks, choosing the loneliest corner she can. The place is set up without any spaces where she might place her back to a wall; only practice keeps her from looking over her shoulder every few minutes.

She's tired.]

offers her chocolate ice cream

[thancredible]

[ It may not be much of a night for conversation, but sometimes conversation may still be comforting to have. Or if not conversation, then a little bit of company. Thancred wanders in not long after Coeleste - and whether he followed her or is simply there by happenstance matters little, for he soon spies her purple hair across the room and pauses to observe.

Alone, out of the way and the way her shoulders slump a little... He wonders if something happened today or if it is simply the -- the everything.

After a moment, however, he paints a grin back on his face and approaches Momodi at the bar. A few soft, flowery compliments later, and he has two drinks, which he brings over to Coeleste's table.

He doesn't deliberately sneak up on her, but his path threading through the tables nevertheless brings him a little behind when at last he reaches her and sets down the mugs. Smiling a softer, more genuine smile (and a very apologetic chuckle if he startles her), he hesitates a moment, sharp eyes studying her expression. ]

Are you expecting someone or might I have the honor of sharing a drink?

oh yes she'll take it

[azeymarose]

[Startled, indeed, into sitting up straighter and pretending at alertness, until she sees it's Thancred with a mug and a- a real smile. Once she takes but a moment to return, letting it break through her weariness and the false flush of a day in the desert sun.]

No, and yes. Whether or not someone else finds me is another matter. [She can't go four yalms in this city without a Flames recruit saluting, or someone who's heard tell of her deeds begging some assistance, or the sense of being watched by figures that disappear in dusty shadows. If nothing else, the Quicksand is 'safe' because of its openness and Momodi's cunning eye.] Will your Ul'dahn lady friends grow too jealous if they see you?

[thancredible]

[ Thus invited, he slides into the seat across from her, pushing one mug closer to her and taking the other for himself. Before he takes a sip, however, he smirks and shakes his head. ]

Not at all - particularly not if I assure them I am simply interviewing you for a rousing ode to your exploits with which I shall in time regale them.

[ And now the sip. Though he feigns preoccupation with quenching his thirst, he continues to watch Coeleste. He knows all too well the consequences of pushing oneself too hard and sometimes... sometimes he worries. No one can be all things to all people, but that doesn't seem to stop their Champion from trying.

As he sets the cup back down, his look turns a little sly. ]

So, too, may this reason work to turn aside any that might seek to draw you into their affairs for a few hours at least.

[azeymarose]

[Coeleste lifts her mug in Thancred's direction before taking a sip of her own. Then another. Ought it bother her in some way that he knows her preferred drinks?

No, not after all this time and trial. With someone she trusts to watch over her shoulders not an arm's length away, she drops her feigned watchfulness once more.]

I'm afraid I must disappoint you. Try rousing me into anything and I'll more likely fall asleep with the table for a pillow. Thank you, for the chance at respite.

[Another sip, one brow raised above the rim of the mug.]

And if I catch you singing my praises in these alleys, I'll compose something equally scathing of my own.

[sedge_flower]

[It's a quiet afternoon in the Rising Stones, or at least as quiet as things ever get there. Tataru is off on her latest quest to earn gil for the Scions (is it still mining? Luna has lost track), Hoary and Coultenet have gone who-knows-where with the children (although it's more likely the other way around), and F'lhaminn and Higiri are out stocking up on ingredients for cooking.

Perhaps it's strange that Luna's way of relaxing is to throw herself into wholly mundane tasks such as sorting and cataloging the boxes of supplies occupying one corner of the main room. Most people would consider that work rather than pleasure, after all; to someone whose idea of "work" involves the battlefield, however, any sort of activity that doesn't involve putting one's life at risk is a veritable vacation. Besides, there's nothing she hates more than feeling like she isn't being helpful, so tidying up it will be while there's no one else around to tell her that she shouldn't be spending her time on something so trivial.

Only the fact that she believes herself to be alone allows her to start singing, quietly at first but increasing in volume as she becomes more certain that there's no one present to overhear her. It isn't a matter of not wanting an audience; rather, she'd prefer not to be faced with questions about a melody and words that are very clearly not of Eorzean origin. There are some subjects she'd rather not discuss with strangers, and that happens to be one of them.]

[thancredible]

[ How fortunate she is, then, that the one to overhear her is not in fact a stranger.

Thancred had been napping in one of the back rooms, having ostensibly been out the entire night gathering information and meeting with assorted contacts. But not long ago he had arisen and now finally wanders out of the back halls, stretching as he goes -- until he hears the singing and pauses to listen. It takes him a few moments to place the voice, for it is rare that he has heard Luna sing. Intrigued, he makes his way to the storage area and leans against the doorway, watching her work and listening to the song.

It's not so much that he means to sneak up on her as he is just in the habit of treading lightly -- and besides, a rare opportunity to watch and listen to the Warrior of Light without her knowing is too tempting to pass up.

But all too soon the song ends, and though Luna would rather avoid questions, Thancred can't help but pry just a little. ]

A beautiful song. Is it from your homeland?

[ Oh, he knows she isn't actually from Eorzea, but whence she truly hails has hitherto remained something of a mystery. ]

[sedge_flower]

[Though her back is turned to him, the slight jump to her shoulders will no doubt be visible even at a distance. She'd been alone, as far as she knew, and were it not for the familiarity of the voice, her hand would be making its way towards some nearby object to grab for a makeshift weapon.

But it's because it's Thancred that she's quick to compose herself before turning around to face him and settling her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised as she regards him with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.]

Weren't you the one telling me not to go around sneaking up on you?

[It's an easy way to dodge the question, and one that makes perfect sense given the situation. He HAD admonished her for it on more than one occasion; it's only fair for her to turn the tables on him now. Certainly not because she relishes the opportunity to tease him, of course not.]

[thancredible]

[ Well it wouldn't be the first time someone has thrown something at him or threatened him when he snuck up on them... In any case, he remains where he is, arms and ankles lazily crossed and shoulder braced on the door frame. A short laugh falls from his lips before a smirk settles in. ]

I was, but this can hardly be called sneaking when I've been standing here a good several minutes.

[sedge_flower]

Several minutes?

[Her expression edges slightly towards irritation now. He'd been listening for that long? Granted, she can't be too angry, as this is technically a public space, but still. She suddenly finds herself that much better able to understand his annoyance at her creeping up on him; chastised, she lets her hands fall back down by her sides.]

How much did you hear?

[The whole song? Most likely.]

[axetherightquestions]

[While celebrating with drink at the defeat of Saint Shiva was all well and good, there is a point where one can celebrate a bit too much. And that point was reached, surpassed and then left in the dirt. Fun was had, merry was made. But now, it's the morning after in the Rising Stones...

Moenbryda finds herself waking up to an excellent view of the ceiling of their establishment. While she can handle her drink well enough to give even a Gigas a run for their gil, or at the very least their bone powder, she has her limits. Said limits in this case were set at the bottom of the tenth or so bottle of sour red F'lhaminn had provided from the bar the night before. Or perhaps the eleventh, twelfth even. Well the number doesn't matter, the main thing is they had one hell of a celebration!

... Except it does matter as a number of Scions had to fly off to replenish what supplies ended up being run through last night while the currently less able of the group needed some time to recuperate. A few Domans are dotted about holding their heads and looking a little worse for wear. Hoary Boulder, poor thing, is having a glass of water forced down him as a tired looking Coultenet berates him for getting so carried away.

And then there's Thancred. While she's not sure where he's gone. Moen makes sure to give a quick glance under the nearest table as she gets back to her feet. You know, just to make sure she didn't drink him under there last night and he was still a little out of it.]

I am still not over the keywords.

[thancredible]

[ And oh what a wonderful celebration it was! Moenbryda did indeed drink Thancred under the table the night before, whether she remembers it or not. Or, to be more precise, she drank him on to the table. And then he sort of rolled off of it later...

However he doesn't seem to be there, now. Instead at some point earlier in the morning, he woke up enough to migrate to one of the comfier chairs not far away, where he is currently nursing a mug of some sort of hot drink, probably tea. The table before him has a tea pot (thoughtfully provided by Tataru) and a few other as of yet unused mugs, undoubtedly waiting for other Scions to help themselves. He seems lost in thought, contemplating the swirl of the steam, but if Moen approaches, he'll look up at her with a smile. ]

Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens!

[ If he has a hangover, he is hiding it well enough for the moment. ]

I pride myself on them far more than I should.

[axetherightquestions]

Aye, so it would seem!

[She takes her sweet time stretching out her arms and back before wandering over, taking slow and careful steps to make sure she is within her capacity to walk after downing enough alcohol to kill a large sized spriggan.

Once she's walked over and sure she isn't about to keel over anytime soon with some sort of nightmare hangover she starts to eye that tea pot curiously. Oh yes, a spot of something warm would certainly hit the spot right now.]

I trust the fact you are here and not nursing your head someplace else means you are well?

i can't wait to see the rolanberry ones.

[thancredible]

Indeed - and you? No back aches from your unusual choice in mattress? [ Never mind that he had a similar mattress, of course! No one can prove anything.

He gestures to the pot. ]

Tataru brewed the tea only a few minutes ago, if you'd care to join me for breakfast.

[ Not that he's eating anything. Oh no. His head might not be throbbing but anything he eats is unlikely to remain in his stomach long enough to be properly digested at this point. ]

And I can't wait to see what the ever loving hell went on down there.

[axetherightquestions]

There might be a few aches and pains, but I'm sure it's nothing the tea won't be able to fix. [You know. While the parties here are way more exciting, the floor in Sharlayan was far better. It had carpet and stuff. Much more comfortable to pass out on.

But yeah. Passing on the food. She's totally game for the tea though. So taking a seat across for him she quickly snatches up a mug and starts to pour herself a drink from the teapot.]

Though I'm sure the pain I'm feeling is nothing quite like the ache you left in poor Higiri's heart last evening. What was it you said again...? [Ahem. Cue bad Thancred impression.] My dear, were the lovely F'lhaminn not the apple of my eye I would be all over you like a gigantoad's tongue on a passing adventurer. [Said far more eloquently than how Thancred had put it himself, though he did seem to be speaking in drukenese at the time.]

Timelines what are timelines sometimes between Eorzea is in danger and Eorzea is in peril

[allaganeye]

I am beginning to sense an ulterior motive in your choice of meeting places.

[ G'raha is quite suddenly at Thancred's elbow, peering over his shoulder at the cup in his hand. It quickly loses his interest, however, and he moves to flop into the chair across from him. The bar is busy tonight, but G'raha likes it that way; it makes it easier for people to overlook the pair sitting in a back corner. ]

allagans cannot save you now!

[thancredible]

[ Thancred starts a little at the voice at his shoulder, having been staring off into space, lost in thought. He's had enough of his cup that the slosh doesn't quite spill over, but it's a near thing.

When he sees that it's G'raha, he smiles faintly, lifting one hand in greeting as the archer flops onto the other chair. ]

I fail to understand what would make you think that. [ He is so very innocent as he says this, of course. ] It was simply the most convenient meeting place I could think of -- and they make passable sandwiches as well, if you have yet to sup.

[ Gesturing vaguely towards the bar, Thancred takes another sip of his drink. He makes every effort to appear awake and alert and energetic, but the dark circles under his eyes and a slight gauntness to his cheeks betrays his less than ideal health at present. Moreover, there's a slight listlessness to what ordinarily would be animated gestures, and when he shifts in his seat, he does so carefully as if he is stiff or sore.

Still, his smile is genuine, and tired though they seem, his eyes are alight with life and determination. ]

[allaganeye]

That sounds quite wonderful.

[ He sits up, ears expectant as a barmaid passes near. Luckily, with Thancred at the table, she is all too happy to come pay them a visit and take G'raha's order. Unlike him, however, G'raha is cheerfully to the point, with nary a comment about any of her features, flower fair or not.

The historian is much more interested in turning back to Thancred once the deed is done, odd-colored eyes looking him over. ]

You look like you have had too many late nights.

[ Casually, as if it could just be that Thancred had too many ladies in a row, though G'raha expects different. ]

[thancredible]

[ Thancred certainly makes up for G'raha's lack with his own compliments, drawing a giggle and a slight flush from her -- and just as importantly, the likelihood that G'raha will get his order that much faster. Whatever comments others may make about his flirtatious ways, they certainly do generate their own perks... (when... no one is angry at him for it, that is).

And when she leaves, Thancred ignores the searching look to simply shrug and take another drink. ]

Much has happened of late leaving little time for rest. [ That is... not strictly speaking true, but not strictly speaking false given the resurgence of Ifrit so soon after their victory over the Garleans. ] But that is precisely why I wished to meet with you.

[forvictory]

[Even the Admiral was one to want for time outside the command room, for want of a chance to observe her own lands even without the aid of her eyes and ears.

Of course even then, she knew certain eyes would have her back, even with her wish for privacy. With whispers of conspiracies being taken down on a semi regular enough basis, she would be fool to stray far without trusted guard.

Leviathan's rise and subsequent fall had rocked Limsa, and shaken the Maelstrom, and there was much cleaning up to do. Pensively she gazed out to the water, standing not far from Oschon's Torch, one hand rested on her hip, which left the other free to grasp death penalty at the slightest hint of something amiss.]

[thancredible]

[ The Admiral is not the only one who would wish to seek solitude from time to time, though the other who joins her on this cliff over the sea seeks it now for far different reasons than simple observation of the land. 'Tis passing strange to be back on Vylbrand for Thancred and to revisit that which he had ostensibly left behind, and with old memories stirred anew, he finds it -- refreshing to leave Limsa Lominsa for at time and seek other views of the sea.

How surprised he is, then, to encounter Merlwyb here, where he expected to be alone -- save perhaps for whichever Yellowjacket stands here on post, minding the lighthouse itself.]

A little far from Limsa Lominsa for a stroll, isn't it, Admiral?

i don't even know

[ofthetwelve]

[There is great rejoicing in the Rising Stones, a few weeks after the last box (though it is never truly the last box) is unpacked, when word arrives that the Students of Baldesion pronounce Thancred fit to return to his regular duties once more. Minfilia is glad beyond words for the news, and, privately, that she is fit for duty as well. She kept as much detail as she could about her internal struggles and recovery from the other Scions; half of them went through it or worse alongside her, and the other half had a realm to carry while they sought rescue for their lost comrades. They all need no greater cares upon them, let alone something as insignificant to their mission in Eorzea as Minfilia's weakness.

(Urianger tells her it is a strength. That the only words she spoke in that time were in effort to defend and protect her friends, that she broke no confidence and let free no secrets despite great pain, that her thoughts turned ever toward reuniting all of them in greater peace. Then, usually, he places tea she can't recall him making in her hands and returns to his bed.)

Burying it is made all the easier beneath arranging new lives in Mor Dhona, and now helping arrange a celebration. There was levity in the sunlight of Silvertear when the Grand Companies officially reformed the Eorzean Alliance, but that was public and involved a great deal of politics and decorum. This will be as private as they can arrange, so naturally all their nearby allies are attending, as they are indeed the worst kept secret in Eorzea now. What to serve, what to say, just how much Thancred can handle even after all this time. He has been working at things despite their warnings, but nothing too dangerous or like to leave him compromised, and through the diligent vivacity of Yda and Tataru a celebratory dinner takes shape.

(Tataru knows, too, when it comes upon her and drains her of sleep. Those mornings she quiets her voice over her long list of things to do and sometimes touches Minfilia's wrist or takes her hand to lead her toward lunch instead of bouncing in step ahead of her.)

Thus she thought, before a great crowd takes over the frontroom and bar of the Seventh Heaven with drink and good food and excitement, she ought to say something to Thancred alone. Their history, old and recent, has laid groundwork for a partnership different from any she has with his fellow Archons, and likely any he has with them as well. Minfilia removes the carefully folded first letter she received from Louisoix and skims through it again; Thancred delivered it, she recalls the day with both heaviness and the thought of steady footsteps. How she thought of the gift that should not belong to her, like the name that should not, and she now could not imagine a life without.

(When her mother heard the bare bones of the tale Minfilia lost her breath at the speed with which she enfolded her adopted daughter in an embrace so gentle it brought her to tears.)

It is while she awaits Thancred in her office for this separate conversation - an admission of too much fussing, a private congratulations, a new rejoinder to be a bit less all-things-to-all-people if he can somehow help it, above all another chance to tell him how precious it is to have him with them, alive - that she decides this is not a talk to have across a desk, and gets up to move to the cushioned bench across the room. Three steps along the carpet and the room tunnels, the sound of her breathing amplifies and turns distant all at once, and she has no time at all to make a sound as the Echo steals her consciousness, leaving her on the floor.]

[thancredible]

[No one is more delighted by the announcement that he can return to all of his regular duties than Thancred himself. He has done his best to keep as busy as he has been permitted, but the more of his old strength he regained, the less what work he was permitted served to satisfy his restlessness and his need to be useful. Not, of course, that he would discount the usefulness of small things, of data analysis, reports, what information gathering he was permitted through his contacts, and so on, but there was only so much of that sort of work while being discretely hovered over he could take without going stir crazy. In that sense, the move to the Rising Stones has been an additional blessing, if only because the move had given him ample opportunity to move and to do things and be helpful and active (and granted him much less time to lose himself in unwanted contemplation). Properly tiring himself out and having a new place to see the stars from has done far more towards helping him feel truly recovered than more rest would have done. It is always easier to fall back asleep when he is physically weary, and there is something refreshing about a new place and a new start (and no Urianger asking him questions he does not wish to answer when Thancred wanders the halls at night).

And so, the prospect of being allowed to fully resume his duties (and therein both fulfill his burning need to be useful and thirst for redemption (it matters not how much he is told that it wasn't his fault and that no one thinks less of him; he still feels he must make up for everything) as well as give himself numerous more distractions) excites him at least as much as if not more than the idea of a private celebration. Seeing everyone truly relaxed and enjoying themselves (and enjoying a delightful meal courtesy of Yda and Tataru) makes for a splendid capstone to an already splendid week.

Of course, despite his offers, he has been shooed away from helping with any of the prep work once the initial cleaning and tidying has been accomplished, so when he is informed that Minfilia wishes to speak with him in her solar, he does not delay overlong in going to see her. He hums to himself as he walks down the hall and opens the door, speaking even as he enters.]

You wanted a word, my lad-- Minfilia!

[When he closes the door behind him, his eyes go first to her chair and the broken staff arrayed above and behind it, but then he sees the crumpled figure on the floor. Instantly, merriment gives way to concern and he hurries to her side. Thancred crouches beside her checking first that she is breathing and bears no sign of injury. Thus assured he calls her name again, questioning.]

Minfilia?

[This is not the first time he has found her or others possessed of the Echo thus, but it certainly is the first in a great while, and he hesitates before gently attempting to ease her to a less sprawled, more comfortable position. If she remains unconscious long enough, he will carefully pick her up and carry her to the cushioned bench, thinking at the least he might give her a more comfortable place to recover than the floor.]

[ofthetwelve]

[The vision comes in patchwork snatches of varying intensity: a nudge at her elbow from the sweet but amorous white-haired man, a voice smooth as spilled oil singing her praises in rhythm without tune. Her back pressed against sun-warmed wood while he holds her face gently to contrast the roughness of his kiss. A walk in a mist-filled city night that led to the damp mossy stone she sees before her and the slick variant behind.

In the visions she screams. She begs, and fights, kicks mightily and feels her teeth close around flesh in her desperate terror and fury. She pays for these mistakes with feet that will no longer hold her, with incomplete hands to feel in the closure of now-weak fists. She pays with the knowledge that the last time she saw the sun was her last.

There is a terrible aching, separate from the stripes and stabs of torments past, for a not-so-distant simpler time, for people she does not recognize and yet knows as well as her own face in the mirror, for a supper full of hearty laughter and simple bread. Thancred's leer and the shining flash of a knife arc through the longing with fresh, immediate pain.

Out loud, on the floor as Thancred tries to see to her comfort, Minfilia whimpers somewhere between a 'no' and a most painfully defeated sound he has heard but once before. It is not unheard of for her to sound anguished while caught in the throes of the Echo thus.

The taste of half-stale bread as it chokes its way down her throat. The cold slide of metal and a smell of rancid copper. A voice that is hers, and not hers, spitting and cursing into the face of a dear friend and hideous enemy, screaming until it is raw and nothing.

When, at last, Minfilia groans and the visions cease, her mind meeting the truth of the present, a body in no pain save for a rapidly diminishing headache, hands whose fingers touch palms when they close-

As always, clarity of awareness returns fast, and she opens her eyes while trying to reconcile why she is not on the floor...and it is Thancred's worry she sees, Thancred's face impossibly close and real and driving her to recoil against the back of the bench without thinking.]

[thancredible]

[When he hears that whimper, he knows that whatever she sees is something dreadful, and he aches for her as he has for her and for others afflicted with the Echo in the past. Though he has never experienced such visions himself, he is familiar enough to know full well they are not always pleasant, and he can only sit beside the bench and wait until she comes round again and speaks of it to know if it is past or present and what bearing it might have. He is loathe to leave her side even to discretely alert Urianger or Y'shtola lest she awaken in the moment he is gone.

But then at last she stirs and opens her eyes - and reacts in a way he does not quite expect. Confusion and grogginess are normal, but the way she flinches away from him and the mix of emotions across her face... Thancred remains where he is, neither moving away nor reaching out to touch her as he might have had she awoken in a calmer state.]

Ah - my lady...

[He pauses, assessing her reactions ere he will say anything further.]