A light purse made for a slightly bitter X'gihl Tia. After his accident earlier that morning, paying to repair it had taken a fair amount of his personal coin and his savings. He quietly believed that perhaps the staff lady had intentionally upped the bill for the damage, or perhaps she just knew she'd caught him vulnerable. Caught in his underwear, hardly able to walk, and having clearly just broken inn property were just a few of the problems. Either way, he felt the fool that morning.

Originally intending to take the day off from his leves and just stay in town, X'gihl instead went out and worked his tail off to try to recoup from the mugging, sorry, “repairs". Leve after leve taken and dealt with, X'gihl could now return to Ul'dah and seat himself at the Quicksand with a comfortable drink just in time to catch the appointed hour for “The Blessed Twelve’s" ad. One good stroke of luck in a day of crap. A waitress took his order, he asked for a mug of ale and a mead to fill his hip flask, and made sure to mention it was on that “Lyveva's" tab. With that taken care of, he shimmied low in his seat, leg across knee, arms crossed, ears flicking in one direction after another to catch any useful tidbits.

He had no exact idea how the meeting would go down. How he would have joined any others looking to take part. The only choice he had now was to be attentive and try not to miss his shot.

“So I said, ‘yer mum's a namazu an'-.” Definitely not interesting. But what the hell's a namazu?

“If he didn’t wanna take the tentacle, he shoulda-.” Right, not that one. Anything but that one.

“-what happens if we mix the drought with sleepweed?” “Based on their properties, it might make a noxious gas or-". Mmk, maybe change tables. He didn’t want to be near those alchemists at the wrong time.

The waitress returned with his drink and a full flask, both of which X'gihl took greatly before standing to move to a different table. Bad timing, or perhaps another rare stroke of good luck, happened at that time. X'gihl paused mid-step and mid-swig when a clatter at Momodi's bar gathered people's attention. A blond Hyur stood atop the bar, and greeted the patrons as though they were all here at the time exactly for the same reason he himself had been. X'gihl stood uncomfortably among the others in the room, drink still to his lips as she continued.

It seemed she was pouring her heart out to the people in the bar. X'gihl himself wasn’t unmoved. The woman seemed young to be a leader, and from the sound of it the company wasn’t in a good situation. Perhaps the role couldn’t have passed to anyone else, perhaps if the Carteneau Flats hadn’t happened…he wouldn’t have been in his situation either. He noted she stopped on a person's name, perhaps the previous leader's, but he noticed a bad memory in her facial features. He quietly admonished himself for thinking lightly of it. Yeah, I know that feeling too.

You won’t find fame or glory here.

When did I ever want either of those?

The woman, Lyveva, finished her speech asking for help instead of offering it. The way it ended, X'gihl's instincts told him to be wary. The people who stayed or volunteered would be in the know. But nothing would stop him from cutting and running. She wasn’t the first pretty lady he saw since the Calamity to ask for help only to try stealing or murdering the person who offered it. In the pit of his stomach, X'gihl felt his nerves come over him.

No, it wouldn’t be like that. What could they take from him, but his body? What could he offer besides labor? He was dirt poor, worked for every gil. Maybe he could play along, see what was going on and get out if it went sour. If it was something dark and ritualistic, he'd fight tooth and nail. If he was just being unnecessarily suspicious…damn.

X'gihl drank deeply from his mug and finished with a loud breath. The company would front the tab here. All he had to do with stay or leave. That choice was getting easier by the second. He raised his empty mug and called out from amidst the patrons. “Here here, to the good lady Lyveva! Leader of the Blessed Twelve and shaker of wills. Where's the line for me to sign my life away?” His voice may have sounded a little sarcastic, but he tried to sound as sincere as he could when saying something like that. It just didn’t come easy. Maybe if he…

”Come hells or high waters, I'll venture through them. So long as I don’t go alone. Till sea swallows all!” Perhaps that was him getting carried away on the buzz that was slowly beginning to take over, but it felt kinda right at the time. Cheers to the Twelve, this was going to be an adventure.

---

---

River made his way into the Quicksand, ordering three tankards of Mulled Tea and ensuring the tab was posted to Lyveva, not wanting to spent a single Gil he had just earned. He took notice of a few of the patrons that were currently in the facility, seeing a strange Miq’ote wearing an eyepatch over one eye, having raven dark hair with a fair complexion. Bit of an odd looking character, but then again River’s appearance wasn’t exactly normal. He watched as he took his drink, standing and moving away from the table, leaving a spot open for him to sit. Perfect. Many odd conversations began to take place amongst the characters there, all of which were not to his liking and he started to see why the Miq had left his seat so promptly.

He sat there, frowning and waiting his order as he poked the wooden tables, boredom filling him while the urge to count his new bounty slowly welled up inside of him. Finally, the fabled Lyveva from the notice made herself present. Standing atop a table, which quite frankly reminded him of home, and allowing him to have a better view as opposed to him having to stand on one to see. She was a rather plain looking Hyur with milicorn hair, and not much confidence it seemed. Her speech drawled on and he quickly found out that it was not he who needed help so much as the guild was in desperate need. His drinks made their way to him and River took a careful sip while continuing to listen but knowing full well what he thought his answer would be. Yes, Cartaneu took many lives, yes it changed the world for all, but to champion such a cause one must have conviction and the stones to show they can lead. The Hyur had something, but he wasn’t quite sure what yet.

As River downed his final tankard he stood up, full ready to walk away, but then the strange Miq’ote spoke up. The words stirring within him, giving River a deep sense of longing and reminding him of where he comes from, why he was here, and the creed that Limsa Lominsa follows. Sure this corn-headed Hyur wasn’t a leader now but who could blame her? To lose so many and to still strive on, that was something of a fire he had to admit. He stood atop the table himself and held his empty tankard up real high (or as high as a lalafell on a table can hold up one) yelling out after the man before. “Till sea swallows all! Aye, I suppose I’ll be joining your motley crew of a guild. It’ll be rough sailing for a bit but I’m sure we can make our way out of stormy waters and into clear seas soon enough!”

Kajin popped out of his room at the hourglass, taking a moment the place he’d called home for the past three years. Hopefully everything would go smoothly and if they did, it would be the last night he’d stay. A twinge of sadness raced through him, almost enough to change his mind. He’d grown attached to the little spot in the corner when the wood creaked if it got too windy, the slight space underneath the window where the wood warped so sand got in sometimes, and the scorch mark he’d left (and personally paid to have replaced now that he was leaving) after the first fight with his brother when he arrived. There were so many things about this room he’d miss, even the things he loathed, but he knew when he made his choice this would happen. It was the price of change. Not one he cared to pay but one that must be nevertheless. With a flourish of his staff, he turned away from the closed door and made his way into the bustling Quicksand.

A familiar aroma made Kajin’s nose twitch and his belly grumble. The Quicksand was known for one thing out of all of Ul’dah: Buttered Crumpets. And they were just made fresh. He paused at the bottom of the steps from the Hourgalss, closing his eyes as he sniffed the air. In his three years here, he’d managed to learn the differences between most of the batches made and the ones Papasu made. She knew just how much butter to put in them. And by that, he meant she put as much butter as she could without ruining the recipe. He’d missed her last batch a few days ago but this time he’d feast. The thought made Kajin’s mouth water and he bolted for his favorite person, unabashedly smacking the blumbering people’s ankles as they got to close. They should keep a look out for him so a bruise would be a helpful reminder. He skidded to a halt just as Papasu finished bringing a round of drinks to a table.

“Four please!” Kajin shouted excitedly, practically vibrating at the thought of the crumpets. Papasu glanced at him confused for a moment and then laughed, patting Kajin on the head.

“Aye, aye, Kakajin. I figure you’ll take a mint lassi or two as well?” Kajin held up two fingers and then shuffled around in his coin purse for the gil. She took the coin and nodded. “Your normal spot is a little crowded so I won’t shoo you down if you sit on the edge. Don’t need you getting stomped on in all this ruckus.” Kajin stuck his tongue out at her but took her advice. The advertisement drew more people at this time than normal and Kajin was a bit on the short side. All it would take was a few people getting too rowdy and Kajin would be flatter than a marmot steak.
He knocked his heels against the little wall as he leaned against the railing, watching everyone get settled in. He thanked Papasu when she passed under with a tray and slid his order next to him and he munched on the crumpet. He sighed happily as it practically melted in his mouth, the smoothness soothing the building ache in his chest. It was just another thing he would be leaving behind, the familiar warmth of the Quicksand and the food it offered. Between his time with the adventuring guild and his responsibilities for the Eyes, he doubted he’d have as much free time as he’d enjoyed up until recently. A little voice that sounded suspiciously like his brother piped up in the back of his mind, threatening an “I told you so” and Kajin quickly refocused on the scene in front of him as a Hyur addressed the room.



Kajin paused mid-sip at the phrase. He’d picked it up to give her a moment of privacy while she spoke, clearly distressed at what he could only assume was a loss. His own memories of the Calamity were stressful, full of horror and frustration and despair as they rushed around Eastern Thanalan saving as many people as they could from the chaos the world descended into, but personally he hadn’t lost anyone but he didn’t have to imagine. Day after day, he’d seen and heard as people's worlds were buried in the sand, as everything they thought they could believe in and trust were purified in ice and lightning and fire. Sometimes he could still hear the wailing. It was why he didn’t go home very much anymore.

He would have helped even if she hadn’t asked for it but all it took was that one phrase and he would throw everything he could behind her. His family was sworn to do it, an ancient oath that anyone who learned their arts took before their teachings, and all it took was a simple request and they would follow without hesitation. The weight of their shame fell on their shoulders. Only repenting would see the family happy in the afterlife. He raised his glass with the rousing exchange, piping in with an ecstatic “Aye, aye!” when the Miqo'te ended his rousing little speech.

And then the Pajdal spoke. Kajin literally spat out his drink at the sight of him, double a double take and then rubbing his eyes. He stared at the milk and mint drink for a long moment, squinting suspiciously. He didn’t smell anything out of place, it was refreshing and delicious as usual, but there was absolutely no way a Padjal was here. In Thanalan. They never left the Shroud. He tossed back the rest of his first drink, grabbed his last crumpet and his other cup, and inched closer. He’d heard stories of them, of ageless children working the wonders of White Magic, of children of the forest able to converse and quell nature’s anger with little more than a whisper. When he first heard of them, a barrage of questions spilled out of him mouth. They defied the very nature of aether, resisted the natural call of the aether of mortal souls back unto its basic form, and yet they existed much longer than they ought. Why did they live so long? How did they live so long? Did they consider their existence hypocritical as it broke the very cycles they sought to preserve? He’d never thought too long on them. After all, he didn’t have a subject to study, no one to discuss the finer points with.

But that all changed now.

Kajin scooted closer, hopping onto the pile of boxes and barrels that always seemed to crowd the back of the seating areas and down onto the floor with practiced ease before making his way to the Padjal’s table. He munched on his food, situation momentarily forgotten, as he took the time to just observe with wide, sparkling eyes. He wanted to touch but he would wait until after the meeting at the very least.

When Theodore had rode in on Ul'Dah, he had very well expected the blistering heat that made him feel as if he was melting within his piece-mail armor. He also expected the rather..."enthusiastic" merchants that attempted to badger him into wasting gil on things he'd have no use for, or have nowhere to put. What he hadn't expected however had been for a Padjal to be sitting in a bar without a Wood Wailer in sight, nor any sort of entourage whatsoever. That was...surprising, to say the least. If not utterly baffling. Regardless, it was pretty rude of him to stare, so he would instead turn his attention to the Hyruan lady that was kind enough to have a tab open for the ale that Theodore ordered. Very polite, before she made about half the parties interested outright leave the room from the sudden asking of favors in place of a normal free company's rousing speech about hard work, camaraderie, and definitely not being a pyramid scheme that involves funneling resources into a crafting fiend's pockets.

Theodore would however remain firmly seated, an ale in hand, and his ears trained on an individual's plea for aid. The young man's eyes would close as he relaxed in his bar seat for just a moment, before the uproar of approval from those who remained started. The Padjal had spoken with wisdom beyond his apparent years in asking for more details...and the audacity of it all set Theodore's blood boiling. Someone just...lied!? And stole in broad daylight as if it belonged to them!? He'd heard that Ul'Dah was a cutthroat city of merchants that would sooner kill a man than let him get ahead with more coin, but to steal someone's home was beyond forgivable. Slamming his emptied mug on the table he was seated at, Theodore would wipe the foam off his mouth with a thumb before speaking up: "Where the guards cannot help you, it falls to the valorous to bring justice."

With a smile on his lips, Theodore would open his left palm and bring it level to his chest, before smacking his free right fist into it, the gauntlets clashing together giving a resounding metallic clunk that drew a bit of attention to himself. "Do you know where these charlatans are? I'm sure any 'reasonable' gentleman is sure to come see reason for such a cause," the white haired swordsman said, clearly eager to go right ahead and dispense some justice, ass-kicking, and long-winded lectures on why grown men shouldn't be stealing.

But before he would actually seem too reliable, he did make sure to grab one of the biscuits he'd ordered from his plate, and stuff the whole thing into his mouth. It had been a while since he'd had any real food.

---

"Halone… I know you're the Fury and all, but this disciple would greatly appreciate a little less of that right now…"

Somehow, some way she had managed to make it into the Quicksands before the bell, and before a few others in order to ascertain the company that she may or may not be joining with. It had taken what felt like hours just to slip into basic clothing, the fabric like razorweed across her forearms and shoulders. Each motion stung almost as bad as a Morbol smelled, and getting her armor on was a feat and a half considering she was working with plate by herself. Yet she did somehow manage. She did find some way to finagle herself into her proper adventuring armor, the simple plates attended to the night before as best she could considering the circumstances. At least none who were present had been there a few hours before to hear the exhausted thud of metal breastplate meeting table, and the agonized sigh to follow as the blonde Highlander accepted her fate.

The waitress at least was kind enough to inform her that those there for the Blessed Twelve were given drinks on the house within reason. A couple who had succeeded her chose to partake of that a little liberally, but Isabella thought it best to be restrained for now and keep to cool water. It helped a little with the heated sensations of her skin against the fabric underlayers of her armor, and especially with the flush to her cheeks. Her father had once given her advice on that in particular, she now remembered much to her detriment and failing pride, that the only thing worse than a full-body sunburn, was one on the face. At least she had her sunglasses to keep her eyes hidden, and the bandana around her forehead to cover up as much as she could. Then again, it could always be worse. She could be here joining up with a Free Company that was little more than a name and hope...

Once more she cursed Halone quietly, soft sigh bubbling into her glass of water as she listened to her fellow Hyur, a woman named Lyveva it seemed, and the leader of the Blessed Twelve. Part of her wondered how it was that information five years old could linger for so long, but then she spoke of Cartenau and she couldn't hide the flinch of shame. She had no part in that battle, nor did most of her kinsmen, something that left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who survived the Calamity regardless of how far reaching it had been. Nevermind that most of Coerthas had frozen over, or that the Dravanians had been relentless in their assault upon the Holy See. Ishgard had refused the call to arms. Ishgard had refused to stand with Eorzea at Cartenau. And to many, it felt as if Ishgard had refused to stand against Garlemald. That one stung particularly hard, as no small few accused her people of cowardice in the least, and many seemed to think that if only the knights and dragoons of the north had come to their aid then the battle could have been won.

Except some of them had gone to Cartenau, and a familiar face presented itself in the tavern not too far away. Theodore. It had been several years since she last saw him in Foundation, perhaps longer for him if he even recognized her, but she definitely remembered him from being around the Haillenartes. At least he seemed to be doing well, more of a fighter than she remembered, and it did well for her spirits to find another Ishgardian among the dreaded heat of Thanalan. Nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a bit of a commotion among those gathered though. No small amount of people had left outright after Lyveva's honesty regarding the position of the company. They apparently had… Well, nothing. Barely any members, gil and even their home was in threat of slipping away as well, though that last one felt a bit more due to the naivety of their current leader. A few of those remained seemed enthusiastic in her appeal for assistance though, and she had to admit that at the very least she wasn't actually promising that glory or gil that most did. Especially since the Blessed Twelve appeared to have approaching zero of both. Reyna would certainly be getting an earful after this, she had determined already.

"Well, I at least appreciate the honesty."

Isabella spoke up, a raised brow from behind sunglasses as Theodore finished his proclamation towards justice, vengeance and so on and so forth. Unlike the rest she would not stand, but she was not leaving quite yet either. Her lance shifted a little on her back as she too adjusted to sit up a little more upright, presenting the very clear image of a very sunburned woman out of her element.

"But uh… Does this mean you don't have any healers either?"

---

The main door to the Quicksand slams open as a Miqo'te in red makes her way inside the establishment with an armful of books. At first glance, she would look like any other person who spent their day in the Ul'dahn heat, tired and sweaty. However, upon further inspection, one would notice that her hair was quite disheveled, her clothes caked here and there with dirt and dust, and a couple of what look to be scratch marks among a few fresh bruises.

"Sorry I'm late! I uh... I had a bit of a situation to deal with. It's not too late to join is it?"

A'lythana asked after finally getting a moment to catch her breath. The Miqo'te then began to slowly make her way over to an empty table, looking forward to setting down all the books she had in her arms. Unfortunately for her though, this would not be the end of her troubles as she unknowingly steps on an empty flagon that was left on the floor. Among some of the onlookers, she could make out various expressions of shock, horror, pity, and the all too familiar expression of someone just waiting for the inevitable, as she seemingly fell in slow-motion with various works of literature cascading down to the floor all around her. For those around her that were less dramatic, they would have simply seen her knocked off balance by the flagon before ungracefully falling to the floor with a high pitched squeak, all of her books following suit with the last one directly hitting her head and eliciting a groan from the woman.

"Owwwww...."

---

The honesty on display was refreshing. Their were no shows of bravado, no grand displays of power to prove that they were still the best despite the losses incurred. Their spokesperson was upfront about the problems they faced, both immediate and long term. Despite all this, Kuro was admittedly unimpressed by the first impression given by their leader. While she appreciated her honesty, the lack of confidence shown by Lyveva was disheartening, a sentiment likely shared by many given the frowns all around. The only thing that had kept people from outright leaving was likely the enthusiasm given off by one bold Miqo'te. People began to ride that initial wave of excitement all around, with many more pledging their loyalty to the cause without any further hesitation. Yet Kuro still had her doubts.

It was not the leader which inspired confidence, it was sheer dumb luck that one random bystander had made up for her lackluster speech and gotten so many to join. Kuro almost wanted to leave because of this poor showing, how could she possibly pledge loyalty to someone with so little backbone! How could someone so meek help her take back Doma! But she suppressed her indignation for one simple reason. The way the girl spoke of being the leader, how she had inherited the position from those who came before, it was all too nostalgic. It was the exact same place she had started, inheriting a dream from those who came before. 'Nobody starts off perfectly.'

With that thought in mind, Kuro nodded at the girl quietly. Whether she saw or not was of little import, for now this one would have her support. With that thought being conveyed, Kuro suppressed all signs of her presence and blended into the crowd, ready to follow her leader to save her home. An interesting start, to save the home of someone Kuro hoped would one day save her home. It seemed fitting, thematic almost.

“Oh now that’s no fair, Momodi took my legs out from under me the last time I tried to jump up on the bar.”

J’torha’s little complaint may have gone largely unappreciated among the other patrons sitting nearby, but he chuckled all the same at the memory. A grave overreaction, he still insisted. She didn’t even know what he’d been doing! Surely she would have been impressed enough to let him stay that night if she’d waited to see him walk across the bar on his hands. Even now she was stealing venomous looks at him just for having his feet up on the table. To his consolation, though, Momodi didn’t look at all pleased with this Lyveva girl either.

Her recruitment speech was… well, rousing wasn’t the right word, but apparently a dark-haired Seeker bloke and a Lalafell with Lominsan accents seemed to think it worthy of a cheer. The girl herself was only a mite more interesting; J’torha preferred his women a little older and a little taller, truth be told. He wasn’t sure if her description of the free company was worth permanently joining over, but she did seem desperate, and, well… he never could say no to a lady in need.

Questions were asked and answered, and while J’torha had to raise an eyebrow at the Northern-sounding Midlander talking like a hero from a bedtime story, the child with the queer horns definitely caught his attention. He couldn’t be an Au Ra, his horns looked too different and there wasn’t another scale to be found on the boy. The only other thing he could think of as a possibility was a beast tribe, but J’torha didn’t know any that looked like him, either.

But there wasn’t much time to puzzle about it before another Miqo’te came thundering into the Quicksand, arms heavy with books of all things and hollering about wanting to join. Before J’torha even had the chance to wonder if she was an envoy from the Arcanist’s Guild or something, she stepped on a discarded flagon and went dramatically tits-up in a shower of books, much to the amusement of a few nearby patrons, and the concern of a few others.

J’torha fell squarely into the former category, not even bothering to hide his chuckle at the display. She was all scratched up and tattered too, for some reason, which only added to the hilarity.

“Rough day, darlin’?” he asked the woman nonchalantly, chuckling some more as he stooped in his seat to pick up one of the books she’d dropped. He squinted at the cover for a moment, but couldn’t make much sense of the title and handed it back with a shrug.

A highlander asked about healers, and J’torha found his memory jogged. “Right, how big of a company are we talking, anyway?” he piped up, though he didn’t rise from his seat. “It’s not just you and this Suki, is it?”

---

---

Many colorful characters were starting to make themselves known around the Quicksand. Not long after he had spoken, a clear soft voice could be heard coming from an odd looking boy. River’s eyes narrowed as he stared into his cup and then back again at the horned child wondering if this was all a ruse, a trap set up to knock him out and steal his coin purse. As he scanned the room he noted that he wasn’t the only one observing his cup, a pink haired lalafell managed to be doing quite the same thing and then looking back at the same query. Either they were having joint hallucinations, or there was an honest to Hydaelyn pajal present in the Quicksand with absolutely no supervision. As usual, the pajal’s question was one born of wisdom and age that his species tended to have. It was clear that these adventurers were needed but no one had bothered to actually ask what they were needed for until him. As River sat there and listened to the explanation, he turned to face the table with the lalafell and saw he was missing. His eye’s darted side to side as he searched for the pink haired troublemaker and finally found him inching closer to the pajal.

His eyes narrowed once more and then realized the staff that he was carrying with him. The ornate features up top were clear indicators that he was most likely a resident of Ul’Dah who studied in the thaumaterlogical arts and was more than likely curious as to the white magicks of this stranger of strangers. He’d be lying if he said that the magicks of both of them carried some interest and intrigue, finding himself wanting to know how it is that they control the aether without all of the geometric designs need for a proper casting. How do they channel the aetheric energies without causing catastrophic results as a result of a sloppy rune, or sigil. His thoughts were broken as another stood up and gave a rousing speech on valor or some shite that mattered little to the lalafellen summoner, and his attention was snatched again as a loud clatter could be heard across the establishment. A miq’ote clad in red had managed to fall and hopefully not damage any books in her clumsy display. Rivers lips remained tightly sealed, then a small smile, and then full out laughter as his arms flailed about, his childish voice ringing across the Quicksand as he couldn’t contain himself from laughing at the others misfortune.

As time would pass, and his humor quelled, River once more paid attention to every question asked, and watch how the chocobo headed Hyur would respond. Each answer making her seem more and more ill fit for the position of leadership, making that title so much easier to snatch if any of these brutes (save the cat in red) wished to take it and show the Free Company some real leadership later on down the line. It wasn’t her fault she was handed this responsibility nor this task, but nevertheless it was hers to bear at the moment and she needed to act the part until either she or another could figure it out. Upon the meetings end, a good handful of adventurers seemed to sign up to the task and agree to help get this title back into her hands, though by which means they would use is up for debate, we shall see how the dice are rolled.

And that, as they say, is that. X’gihl kept quiet as part of the toned-down mood that had swept over the group of curious individuals with whom he’d shared the Quicksand with not more than an hour ago. Curious, aye, that would be a good word for each of them. X’gihl had taken a seat just at the back of the carriage, his blind side facing the rear, where he could look over the new company with his one good eye.

If they weren’t a motley bunch, he wondered what would meet the requirements to be one. Eight people in total, that he could see. Each face seemed so foreign and so strange to him. There was a kid among the group, for instance, a Gridanian sort. And, of course, people know what one would mean by “Gridanian”, wouldn’t they? The sort of children people met in the Black Shroud, in the city, in highly-respectable positions of one thing or another, and who claimed to be “sensitive” or “open” or some other term used to imply they were in communication with those nebulous “Elementals”. The same Elementals what had turned away refugees fleeing from home and looking for another. Gods knew how they worked or what effect they had on the behorned devils that worked for them.

The boy wasn’t the only curiosity in the carriage, however. Surely, there wasn’t just a single oddity. In this group, X’gihl felt he was in colorful company. “Colorful”, there’s another good word for it. The privateer looked over one of the Lalafellin folks in the carriage. The fellow seemed “blue” in a way that didn’t exactly refer to his hair color. There was a depth about the guy, a “vibe” to him, an aura one might call it, if X’gihl could only see it. Sharing a space with the small person, the privateer felt reminded of the sea in a way that made him slightly homesick for Limsa Lominsa, if homesick was what a displaced Miqo’te from Gyr Abania could call it.

Next X’gihl took note of one of the other Miqo’tes. Adorned in red, loose, flowing clothing, he practically screamed an impression at the privateer. A performer of some sort, surely. Fungi, thought X’gihl with a smirk. Parasitic in nature, fed off others, all too happy and ready to spread its spores, and if you only heard it spoken you might think it’s a “fun guy”. But X’gihl could use a little fun, and one way to do that was to bait someone into a game. The performer seemed like an excellent potential participant.

Now, how to do that without being a complete and utterly noisy nuisance to the audience we’ve got here, my new friend?

J’torha, the fungus in question, had also taken a seat near the rear of the carriage, though he made his choice mostly to be as far away as possible from the stench of the chocobos up front. Well, that and the Ul’dahn-looking Lalafell was giving that odd child some pretty strange looks, and J’torha had no mind to be a part of any of that.

Speaking of strange looks, though, J’torha couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes on him as he sat back on the carriage bench, tying a string of jingling coins around his tail. Looking up, though, it turned out it was only one eye staring at him, accompanied by a smirk on the face of that Lominsan Seeker from the Quicksand. It was the look of someone looking for a good time, though he was just a touch surprised to see it outside of a performance or an otherwise more… social engagement.

“See something you like?” he questioned with a raised brow, though his own smirk betrayed his amusement. “‘Cause I fear you’ll have to pay a little extra.”

The pair on this guy, X'gihl chuckled quietly. But if the look on the younger man's face was an indication, the privateer may have successfully found someone receptive to a bad influence. Oh the wonders today was going to bring. Dare he already count one of these unusual persons among his short list of fellow friends and conspirators in the everlasting fight against dull silence? No, no. Caution, first. Feel it out. He could be playing the fool moreso than X'gihl himself.

"Pay you? Mate, I'm scared you'll string me up with the rest of yer pyrite riches!" He whispered excitedly, the smirk extending into a somewhat warmer smile. The privateer offered a hand toward the other Miqo'te. "X'gihl Tia, Gill to me friends. Ya look about as bored to tears as I am, if significantly closer to the edge. Now, iffen ya don't mind, stop playing with yerself and help me pass the time, eh?"

A little push, some give and some take. Good opening, in his own opinion. But X'gihl had to admit that this performer had done half the necessary work of establishing communication. Now, to gauge and see what he had to say in return. Does the fun begin? Or shall I nudge another?

J’torha chuckled at the pyrite comment, securing the makeshift jingler to his tail and shaking Gill’s hand. “J’torha Tia, fancy that. Don’t see many of our lot eh?” In fact, Gill was probably the first other tia J’torha had properly met. He couldn’t recall any others, but of course, it wasn’t usually the faces of men that J’torha committed to memory.

In any case, the boredom was certainly mutual. J’torha was quite sure there was nothing as dull and mind-numbing as the inside of a carriage. “I can’t very well refuse that offer,” he replied, “I’m liable to go stir crazy myself. These things might be faster than walking, but at least on foot there’s something to see.”

He leaned back on the bench, twining his fingers behind his head and raising his eyebrow at Gill. “But how exactly does one pass the time in the back of a wooden box?”

Leaning back in his seat, the privateer drew a stoppered bottle from one of his pockets; a last-minute purchase to place on Lyveva’s tab as they’d hurried from the Quicksand earlier. Was nice to have this before delving into the hip flask. He raised the bottle in J’torha’s direction with a coy grin. “Pleasure to be making your acquaintance, my fellow Tia. Fer payment, I can offer naught but a break in the doldrums, a shared drink, and a proper laugh from belly to breath. All ye’d have to do is help us to entertain ourselves. Me, I’m privy to wordplay and song-singin’.” X’gihl drew the bottle back to his person, cupping it in both hands protectively as he eyed J’torha curiously.

“Wouldn’t happen to be much good in that sense, would ya? A song-bird I doubt you be, but a song between us maybe? A line or two from one, followed by the same from the other.” An odd way to propose his idea, but X’gihl had his eccentricities. He’d found that wording things unusually helped to get attention and simultaneously put people off their guard. How better to play the man he was? A fool trying to fill the gaps of activity with more activity, lest his mind wander to deeper depths. Here, however, he had a hunch that J’torha Tia might make for good sport. Perhaps he was a good mate that took the bait and would share the fate of a man what did hate this trip’s slow gait as they wait-

Oh dear, not that again; it seems the drink from earlier was beginning to wear off. Leaving the bottle stoppered and untouched, X’gihl grabbed his hip flask and took a short swig of it before clicking the lid shut again and replacing it at his belt. Better. It wouldn’t have been polite to open the bottle and take the first swig after he’d just offered it to another, even if he’d had need of it for that moment.

The privateer leaned forward again and held the bottle back out to the performer. “What say, Tora?”

’A song bird I doubt you be’ he said. J’torha grinned; he’d only spent, what, nine-tenths of his travels learning every song and dance he could get his tongue and feet around? It could very well be that he’d surprise this Lominsan tia, and J’torha was never one to pass up the opportunity to impress.

He looked between the bottle and the sailor, and held out his hand, shaking his head with a friendly grin. “I’m not one to drink on the road; I find there’s more fun to be had then with your wits still about you,” he laughed. “Besides, it’s no good to be singing talking backwards is it?”

He leaned forward on his knees, tapping his chin for a moment as he searched his mind for an appropriate song. “I think I have one you ought to know instead,” he commented thoughtfully, his trademark grin splitting his face once more as he sat back up straight. “Or, at least, you sound like you’ve been around the Lominsan pubs and docks a time or two.”

He took a look over the rest of the occupants in the carriage - quiet, courteous, peaceful, and aside from a single laugh from a pink-haired Lalafell, entirely boring according to him - before he started tapping his heel against the floor of the carriage, a string of decorative coins (identical to the one he had tied around his tail moments earlier) jingling the beat of some as-of-yet-unknown rhythm like a tambourine.

The sudden noise drew an odd look or two, but J’torha responded only with a wink and a grin; no matter the source, he always loved the attention. He turned his mischievous gaze expectantly back to Gill as he started clapping the beat as well, and finally started his song, his voice undeniably betraying tone and talent despite the roughness typical of a lively Lominsan tune.

“Come get yer duds in order ‘cause we’re bound across the water;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
Come get yer duds in order ‘cause we’re bound to leave tomorrow
Heave away, me jolly boys, we’re all bound away!

X'gihl nearly looked astonished at the man's refusal. But what came after had purpose, and he found himself thrilled by it. J'torha appeared to come alive, at least in the privateer's eye, as though something he'd said had lit the wick to a fine firework preparing to go off in the carriage at that moment. Thrilling, yes, that was the appropriate word. A churning feeling in the breast, yet not brought by uncertainty. X'gihl leaned back in the seat, stowing the bottle away for later as his attention changed to the tap of J'torha's heel and the jingling of coins.

It wasn't apparent what the rhythm belonged to, not yet. A clap and a voice came next, and a smile on the privateer's lips followed them. I've misjudged you very clearly. Didn't peg your experience at all, but it seems you've pegged mine. Dear me, I've missed that. X'gihl gave the other Miqo'te a genuine smile as he crossed his arms in his slouched position and joined in happily, head tilting a little with the music the performer provided.

"Sometimes we're bound for Sharlayan, sometimes for Rothlyt Sound;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
But now we're bound for Limsa-town where all the girls are dancin';
Heave away, me jolly boys, we're all bound away!"

One thing you couldn't find out in Little Ala Mhigo, or the Coffin and Coffer, or perhaps not even in Ul'dah, was a good song like that. And they were just beginning! It felt like a breath from home. Of fresh air coming off the sea and docking at the harbor to enjoy land for a short while before you were back out there.

Now, if there was anything better than a good lively tune, it was fellow voices to sing it with. J’torha beamed when the sailor across the aisle joined in his song, any protests or glares from the other passengers long forgotten. How hadn’t he thought of this before X’gihl suggested it? Of course there was no better pastime than singing at the top of one’s lungs! There voices might not be perfectly in tune (though J’torha had a mind to pin that on X’gihl) but that was the beauty of drinking songs, they were designed to be sung by a tavern full of drunkards with nothing but a shouting voice and time.

“Farewell to all the pretty ladies, waving from the dock;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
And if we do return to you, we’ll make yer cradles rock!
Heave away, me jolly boys, we’re all bound away!”

As they sang, J’torha gave the woman sitting next to him a friendly nudge of the shoulder and a wink to the other ladies on board; more second-nature to him than anything by now. The verse was meant to be responded to with another by the women in the crowd; hopefully at least one of them would know the words.

Kajin’s heels bounced off the seat of the carriage as he finished his last crumpet. Getting into the wheeled box was a blur, his focus singularly on the horned child. A ruckus of books hitting the ground had pulled his attention away long enough to send a glare the girl’s way. Books didn’t just grow on trees! It took hours upon hours upon hours of painstaking penmanship to produce them and someone had the audacity to toss them around like gil on the blood sands! He had half a mind to stomp over to her but he decided against it. If they were going to be working in close proximity for the foreseeable future, it wouldn’t do to start anything so quickly. So he held his tongue and followed the rest of the group as they were ushered into the carriage, making sure to seat himself as close to the Padjal as he could.

He needed to be respectful and polite, ask questions approperitaley and respect boundaries but at the same time he wanted to know. He licked the remaining butter off his fingers, practically vibrating with the need to bombard the child with questions, but he had some semblance of self con--

"It's the horns, isn't it? Are those the secret to the timeless deal?" The question burst out, definitely meant to be a thought but the Lalafell and his curiosity had never been one to respect the situation. "Thall’s balls, that was meant to stay private. Kajin Najin, aetheric evaluator for Azyma's Eyes. I've just never seen a Padjal outside of the twelveswood, or at all for that matter, and I'm dying to know what stories are true!"

“Hmmm?” the Padjal mused aloud. He turned his head, instinctively looking up for the source of the voice that had spoken, as though expecting to find a Hyur or Elezen there. Instead, he found that he had to look down -- which was a strange experience for him -- and discovered a Lalafell who seemed quite taken with him.

Placing a hand over his heart, the boy gave a slight bow toward the diminutive figure. “E-Siri-Rai of the timeless horn,” the child supplied in introduction, making light jest.

Then he paused a moment, reaching up both hands to gentle touch the horns on either side of his head as though checking that they were still there. “Though, to be honest, I’m not sure these are good for much more than destroying many a good pillow,” the youth commented wryly, before looking down and adding, “Also, making it rather hard to get comfortable. It’s not easy to just flip over when you spear the bed every time you turn your head.”

Kajin couldn’t help the laughter that burst out, folding in half in the seat as he giggled. He hadn’t contemplated the difficulty the horns presented. He just assumed they adapted to them somehow but it made sense that laying down would be a struggle. However, he was more surprised at the joke. The Pagjals, despite their child-like stature, always seemed aloof in the stories he heard and yet here was one, cracking jokes with a stranger. Admitly, here was one presenting the perfect counter argument to the Lalfell’s assuptions.

“Delightful!” Kajin wiped the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he caught his breath. His heels resumed their steady thunking against the carraige’s seating. “I hadn’t considered the challenges unwieldy additions presented but I guess that would be a frustration. Simple blessing for me and I’m not below taking it. So E-Siri-Rai, two questions. One, is there a short version cause that’s a mouthful. Two, are you truly unaffected by time?” Kajin counted his questions on his fingers as he asked, leaning forward with curious eyes.

The young Padjal gave a slight smile, seeing that the jest seemed to have landed its mark and somewhat satisfied by that fact. “E-Siri’s my name, if that’s what your asking,” the boy remarked in answer. “Rai is the family that I was born into. Padjal don’t often come from our lot though, so we’re not as well known in Gridania as the Senna or Yan.”

The second part of that gave the boy pause to consider just how to answer. “No one’s unaffected by time. It’s passage denotes a loss, a change, a passage to each of us. Some just don’t manifest it the same as others,” the Seedseer offered, somewhat musing to himself as he contemplated that. But, it seemed about as good an answer as any. “Will I grow up as you did? No. But, I am capable of learning and that’s a change of a sort, isn’t it?”

"E-Siri, okay. Nice to meet you." Kajin beamed but cocked his head at the answer to his second question. While the answer was correct, it wasn't the response he was looking for but that was entirely his own fault. "It is a change, for better or for worse, but will you pass away of old age like me? If some bumbling, wine-sodden brute doesn't crush me first that is." The last part was a grumble as he recalled the tavern incident but he shook it off as quickly as it came, a contemplative look taking the scowl's place.

"I couldn't even imagine the responsibility that comes with life longer than what the twelve gave me." Kajin spoke slowly, looking at the ceiling. "The knowledge you would gain, the things you could advance."

The boy just blinked as he looked down at the Lalafell fellow. Then the boy gave a warm laugh. “Everything that has a beginning, has an end,” the boy offered, by way of a somewhat cryptic explanation. “Death is what gives life meaning. Some of us just live longer than others, be they wine-sodden brutes or Padjali. In this way, what we hope to advance is a better of understanding of how man and nature co-exist.”

“I think I disagree with that point but I don’t think I have enough of an understanding to say why.” Kajin frowned at the statement. It just seemed weird, that for something to have meaning that it must be finite. A rope, regardless of length, was a useful tool and likely doubly so if it never ended but he’d never had an endless amount of rope so maybe it wasn’t useful and was only useful if you cut it into segments and… Kajin clicked his tongue to break that chain of thought before he stuck himself in it and developed a nasty head pain.

“I’ll leave the philosophizing in better hands.” The Lalafell chuckled. “So E-Siri, what brought you to this little group? It’s a far way from the Black Shroud.” Kajin watched the blazing blue Thanalan sky beat down in sandy roads, cactars playing in what flora managed to find purchase in the thin soil.

“Curiosity about the world in which the Shroud exists,” the boy answered simply. There was far more to it, but the easy answer seemed the better option, particularly for the the sake of making conversation. “And yourself?”

The boy paused there a moment, before continuing, “I’ll admit that I’m not well acquainted with Lalafell. Your name is Kajin Najin. Do I say the whole thing, or just Kajin?”

"Kajin works just fine. It's the short version, makes it easier for non-dunesfolk to say it." The Lalafell shrugged, offering a half smile with the information. "I joined Ayzema's Eyes to help settle the world and my brother stuck me on desk duty even though I have the skills to be an assessor. I got bored after three years, saw the flyer, and went behind his back to get transferred out of scribe work. So now I'm here, free to travel. So long as I do my job along the way."

As the Lalafell spoke, a noise from another part of the carriage caught the Padjal’s attention. Turning his head away just a moment, the horned child looked over where two Miqo’te had been speaking quietly. Which, appeared to have moved on to one beating a tambourine. And, from there, the singing started.

Turning back toward his similarly diminutive new friend, the Padjal had to raise his voice just a bit to be heard over the Limsan revelry that was happening in the carriage. “It sounds like we may be in similar circumstances,” the Padjal noted aloud. “Though, I admit that I’m not very familiar with Ayzema’s Eyes. It is the name of the guild that you represent?”

Kajin looked on with confusion as one of the Miqo’te started a beat and grinned as they started singing. His heels bounced against the seat in time with the music, turning his attention back to E-Siri. “Although I’m not 100% sure how its handled in the other city states, Ayzema’s Eyes’ Thanalan branch is under the supervision of the Thaumaturge’s Guild in Ul’dah. We record and monitor the aetheric condition of Eorzea. As we see stable trends among the regions, we’ll push forward to develop possible counters to severe aetheric imbalance. It relies heavily on aetheric sensitive individuals, although I think the higher ups are developing possible alternatives. We have monitoring stations across Eorzea and use members like me to wander and confirm the station’s observations.”

“Fascinating,” the boy remarked. It seemed that in Thanalan he had found an organization whose appreciation for the scope and depth of the elemental reach ran parallel to his own. “I’d be curious to look at your data for Gridania to see if your observations don’t match my own,” the child offered candidly. “Of late, we’ve observed a recurring elemental disturbance in the South Shroud. I’d be curious if there wasn’t some kind of mild imbalance somewhere in Eastern Thanalan that didn’t correspond.”

"A disturbance out of the South Shroud?” Kajin frowned at the comment. He didn’t personally know what the Padjal was talking about but if the Eyes observed a similar phenomena, there were a few stations that came to mind. “I’ll requisition a copy of the Golden Baazar’s records and cross reference them with your observations. Hopefully, that’ll give us a clearer indicator of the stressor. However, I think you’ll find your knowledge far suprasses our own. With the Calamity making a right mess of the aether, our early data only reflects the correction process so it may take some work to extrapolate the imbalance but I’m sure if we put our heads together, we’ll figure it out!”

At the sound of books and human shaped non-book things slamming into the ground, Theodore's head turned away from his (potential) future employer to the Miqo'te that had fallen. He'd walk over, beaten to the punch by one of the Miqo'te's own who picked up one book, while Theodore, wanting to help, would stoop low and pick up the remainder. Carrying them as a stack with both of his hands, he would deposit them on an unoccupied end table, devoid of flagons. "Are you alright, miss? You look like you took more than just a fall," Theodore would say, offering the crimson clad cat woman a hand with which to rise up. He'd noticed the bruises she'd gotten at the very least.

Once A'lythana was fine to rise once more, Theodore would look to her stack of books. "Quite the selection, Miss. If you're here to join the Company, I'd have them take a look at your bruises. I'm sure that they would oblige you," the white haired swordsman said, turning his attention back to the members present that had persisted in joining in this..."initiation", one could call it. Aside from the curious case of the Padjal, there was one other who caught his attention at a glance. A woman of Highlander blood, bearing a lance of familiar make. The more Theodore cast his gaze to her, he swore deeper and deeper that he'd seen the woman before...but couldn't place whether it had been someone he knew by name. The days from when he was serving in Coerthas were a blur of memories when he nearly vomited everyday from the exertion of his training. He was only sure that they were an Ishgardian by their spear, one the likes of which he'd seen on many of the dragoons and higher ranking knights within Foundation. He could only hope this wasn't somehow going to lead with him having an inquisitorial encounter...but for now, the idea of a fellow kinsman out there, fighting the good fight outside of Ishgard warmed his heart.

---

The carriage ride was a welcome surprise, mostly since at the mention of the Silver Bazaar, Theodore had expected that meant trudging halfway across Western Thanalan in metal armor. Make no mistake he was accustomed to the humidity of Gridania, and the heat often found in the temperate woodlands, but the direct sunlight made the young man feel as if he were a chocobo breast stuffed into an oven. Being in the company of fellow adventurers, especially in such numbers was more than a morale booster, it was half the fun of adventuring to begin with. The duo of Sunseeker men had broken into a jaunty little musical number with a rhythm that had him lightly tapping his armored foot to the rhythm. He didn't want to embarrass himself by singing along without even knowing the words, but it was a pleasant way to start what would either be the successful and bustling rebirth to a dwindling free company...or, a massive waste of everyone's time. But the latter didn't even cross Theodore's mind as the gates of the Sultana faded over the hills.

The future was there. Justice would be delivered, and those who had been wronged shall receive due recompense with their home restored. This much Theodore believed with unflinching certainty, and as an accompanying thought flitted through his mind, the boy would smile and look to the ceiling of the caravan. "This will be the first of many, perhaps," Theodore mused in a mutter under his breath, relaxing until they would arrive. As soon as his greaves would touch down on the dirt of the not-so-Silver Bazaar, the man would be ready for action. Or interrogation. Or investigation. Or really, just about anything asked of him to get this done.

A refreshing song that had come and gone too soon. The carriage reached its halt before anyone had even piped up to join the next verse. A pity, for true. Good company was hard to find, yet J'torha was making a good case for himself. All the same, it was time to go to work. X’gihl hopped over the side and out from under the carriage’s canopy with gusto, stretching his legs and performing squats to work the feeling back into them.

The privateer’s eye perused the Silver Bazaar from beside the carriage, getting a bearing as the good lady herself began to lay out some details. X’gihl had never been to this particular venue. From what he understood, the place had once been a spot of fine trade before the Calamity hit. Not that he would remember it too well. He’d taken a boat out of Vesper Bay to Limsa Lominsa shortly before the Calamity had struck. Five years later, it was a shadow of what it had once been. Nonetheless, it seemed merchants still took up spots here and there, setting up their shops and wares for all to see.

If this is a shadow, thought X’gihl, ’tis a very fine one likely made of some well-woven dark silk. Lyveva separated from the group to pursue a piece that she believed had come from the very home she had hoped to save, leaving the fresh recruits to now fend for themselves and carry out the investigation at will. At least she’d left them with a few important bits.

One of which included a man who may be off fishing. X'gihl looked toward the docks himself, partially drawn by the smell of brine and fish, partially hoping that Galfridus' past time might give him a good excuse to make it down that way. Aye, that sounds like a plan. With an unapologetically excited grin, X'gihl waved to the rest of his company before making way that direction.

Down the steps on the northern side of the Bazaar, X'gihl could see the fishing boats in port. Sailors hauled their catches from vessels as the sunset in the west glinted off the sea and wet stones of the environs. A perfect time, hopefully, to catch the man in question and relieve some nostalgia.

"Hoi there!" Called the privateer, stepping onto the wooden pier. "Pardon my intrusion, gents. Yer sails look as tired as you do! Would you accept another's hand in heaving the boats down for the eve?" Galfridus was sure to be among them. Which one was he, though?

The carriage came to a halt shortly after the pair's conversation came to a close, pulling Kajin out of his brief contemplation. He didn't recall an aetheric disturbance in the various records he transcribed but he wasn't looking for one. The next bell that finds him with free time, he'll send a letter back to Ul'dah if courier timing worked out. Mentioning a Padjal believed such an anomaly exists would likely get the Eyes investigating in a heartbeat. Kajin shrugged, putting the matter out of mind for now, and hopped out of the carriage and brusted off the little dust cloud still swirling around the carriage wheels. He took a moment to look around and grinned.

The Silver Bazaar. A struggling monument from an Era sorely missed but despite all its flaws, this bazaar was still one of Kajin’s favorite places in all of Thanalan. First of all, the best pescatore came out of here an Kajin was willing to put Gil (and fire, lots of fire) on that. Secondly, the stars at night on the back edge of the town were gorgeous. HIs first time seeing the ocean was magical, born in a landlocked region of Thanalan, and he fell in love with stargazing on the rock behind the bazaar became one of his favorite past times. Sure, the town needed fixing up and sometimes rougher folk made their way around here but most of the town’s populace were worth making friends with.

Kajin listened to Lyveva, nodding along with a frown. She skipped over someone, probably one of the best of the town’s residents to speak with. Most of the people here had at least considered turning tail and running as business collapsed and those same people wouldn’t have any issue letting a fraudulent auction run rampant if it meant incoming gil. No, Kajin knew a few people and if anyone would be willing to help, it’d be the one person who would rather die than see the Silver Bazaar finally collapse into the sands. The Gil might be pretty attractive but it would just take a little convincing that developing the Bazaar’s reputation as a shady place would only hurt her efforts to restore the once proud markets to their former glory.

“Okay, okay. I know she said all those people but how about you stick with me and we can try something else?” Kajin asked E-Siri, scanning the crowd and giving out a loud “Hehe, found ya!” before he bolted off into the crowd, expertly dodging wandering feet and knees until he skidded to a halt, beaming. “Kikipu!”

---

It certainly had been quite the interesting ride, though more so for those awake at least. After departing the Quicksand most settled down into the carriage and seemed to be keen enough to get to know each other. The two seekers, or were they moon cats… Isabella wasn't sure on the differences between miqo'te to comment, only glancing at them from aside as she sat down next to one particularly eager and busy fiddling with some coins. She didn't comment on the oddity of tying coins around tails, seeing as how she didn't have one herself it didn't seem her place to contemplate the etiquette regarding such things. Instead she simply leaned back, adjusted her sunglasses and waited for the subtle rock of the carriage…

A nudge at her shoulder awoke her, the woman having been sleeping upright as the cats carried on with song in the enclosed space, and only with that motion was she disturbed. She didn't give a comment on it, only shrugging at him as the best response she could give considering she hadn't been listening enough to know if he had asked her something, or someone else had. One of the benefits of wearing sunglasses, people didn't tend to notice if she thought to catch up on some rest, most assuming she was quite awake. A moment passed and the one… Tora she believed, made a gesture towards the other women and she assumed it was just him being friendly. Proper introductions would have to be done later she figured, seeing as how she missed on any given within the carriage, but that too seemed to be coming to a close as they reached their destination.

Right behind the privateer she joined the others gathered outside the carriage, listening a little longer than he on the situation at hand. So there were a few around the settlement that could be questioned regarding the home and the title. Getting into a conflict first thing out of the gate wasn't exactly in her interests at the moment, regardless of whether it was physical or not. She would leave the Roe to the others on that respect, feeling it better to leave him to someone more… Diplomatic. Same with the lalafell if she was being honest, as her last experience with one back in the city left her even less eager to try bartering with one. That meant that Galfridus would be the best choice for her to speak to, and she was just about to say as much when that same cat bounded off for the pier.

"H-hey… Wait up!"

And off she was, right behind X'gihl for the fisherman. Behind her Lyveva had her own issues and while she felt for her fellow Hyur having to haggle for her own belongings, it seemed prudent to try and assist where her skills might actually pay off. Lance and rod clanked against each other on her back with her pack as she made an effort to catch up to their rogue rogue, finally stopping behind him as he called out to the laborers on the docks.

"Shouldn't we try to find Galfridus and get back to Lyveva instead of doing odd jobs?" Wiping her face and readjusting bandana and sunglasses both, she dabbed a little bit of sunscreen on her cheeks as she stood up more fully, armor creaking as she fixed X'gihl with a look. "Or at least make sure it's him first before offering hands to everyone at the Silver Bazaar."