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PICNIC IN YANXIA

Dear Journal,Before I forget, I need to mention that the tome I borrowed from Captain Black - well, mayhap I should just call it as it is…the tome I took without the Captain knowing...Anyroad, that tome - it’s somehow changed title and topics!What once discussed the details of two women meeting and coming together from two very different worlds yet having formed a strong commitment and bond. It went into titillating details of their embraces and even some that made me blush. But the oddest feelings of being watched would overtake me as I turned the pages.I made it a hefty ilm into the book during my first real sitting alone, devouring the words and lives of these nameless lovers. And when I dogeared the page and shut the the tome, the title had changed. Now it was emblazoned with the words, Now We Are Cooking with Fire: Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Flare. I may be daft at times, but I know that wasn’t what it was called when I originally pulled it from the tomepile. Flipping through the first few pages, gone were the two womenfolk and now it recounted the tales of a master chef and a mere scullery maid meeting.There was no time to continue reading as Badge was picking me up for another date. We were headed off to a place I’ve not been to in a very, very long time. Almost two summers ago: Yanxia. That would explain his magnificent hat! What would bring us to such a region? The promise of a picnic! Irresistible food and a journey upon a glowing cloud in the strong arms of Badge? This could only prove to be a great sun!A bit of aetheryte travel and a swift flight upon Virtue and we landed near a beautifully secluded lake, surrounded by trees bursting with bright pinks. There was even a wee island within the lake, just boasting of bad ideas. Badge pulled a pillow out of Virtue’s inners and placed it down on the hard ground (ever the gentleman) and summoned a picnic basket!

Just as Badge began to plate egg sandwiches and grilled sweetfish, the skies opened and the Goblet rain followed us to Yanxia. Naught to do but smile and enjoy the food, wet as we were. The soggy bread reminded me of Master Bethoir’s excited Namazu shoving soggy crackers into my palms…but they were still delicious (unlike the crackers). Besides, the soggier the sandwich, the less chewing to be done, the faster my starving gullet is satisfied. Gods, it was still delicious…even in a slurpier form.Anyroad, I know you’re supposed to wait a while after eating to swim, but gods, the water was just so enticing; and we were already wet. I flung my hat at Badge, then everything else before I sprinted for the shoreline demand a race.
I don’t know how in the seven hells he did it, but the man was bared and already swimming by the time I hit the water; we were both grinning like idiots. The rain was certain to keep our secluded picnic private; aye? Aye. Well, technically we weren’t alone: the swiving pillow had ended up in the water. I don’t know if it was my doing, or his, but there it was, soaking up the shoreline like the Fightin’ Finns. Shite.

I noted there was no fish; and Badge opined the must needs be afraid of me: all the thrashing and splashing like a drowned hippo. HIPPO. I do believe the lad just called me fat. And here I was naming him a gentleman and such.We swam in each others glorious company for the better part of a bell before making our way back to the shoreline, retrieved the soggy pillow, and lazed the entirety of the sun away. It had stopped raining shortly after we buried ourselves in glorious lake water.A Beautiful Sun. When it came time to leave, Bumpkin needed to head to work on diner business; and since I was so near Shirogane, asked that he drop me off in Kugane before he left. As I perused the stalls and wares, I hailed Red on his linkpearl to see if he or Ume needed aught. Aye, good company for dinner.An irresistible sun. A picnic brunch with Badge and a dinner with Ume, Alex, and Sasha. I repeat: a beautiful sun.

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Tori, Me & HOV!

Dearest Journal,Gods. Do not get on the wrong side of Tori at House of Virtue. I said one thing. One thing! And she followed me into their new facilities to…how’d she put it? “Have a word…”By the Twelve, if I thought I had to piss before she stepped in behind me, I most certainly had to piss after she left…It all began because I was begging off to find another tumbler or bush to piss in, but had heard word from one of the staff that there were now proper facilities at HOV. Pisspots, I call them. And said so aloud… Apparently I’d said it so loud that Mistress Tori and likely half the staff and patrons heard the announcement.Anyroad, as I stepped foot into the large restroom’s common area of handwashing stations, Mistress Tori walked in behind me. I inquired if she, too, needed to use the pisspots, and that’s where she laid down the law.I am to mind my tongue. Crass language isn’t to be tolerated in her professional establishment. And if I didn’t do so again, I’d find a bar of soap lodged so far in my mouth I’d likely swallow it. She actually said I was as foul as an unflushed bowl!! And even hinted she knew that I was the one who pissed in the tumbler a few moon ago. Shite.I don’t know if the swallow I did just then was on her command? Or mayhap just subconscious. But boy, did I swallow a lump in my throat.Aye. Got it. Crass language: keep it to myself. Don’t have to tell me twice.But I will say that the pisspots at House of Virtue are quite lovely. AND there’s plenty of Lalafellin step stools, if needed. Quite lovely, indeed.Later that night back at the ‘Suds, I had let Bumpkin know that I’d irritated his employer. He said he’d like how crass I was. Well, at least someone appreciates the me as I am. Conversation shifted toward my cleaning of the Jig and he asked if I could start leaving addresses of where I’m headed to clean venues; especially given my missing linkpearl incident.Gods. I would leave two envelopes. One for him and one for Red. Both sealed. And both left in the bottom left dresser of my desk…only to be opened if I didn’t respond to hails within a reasonable amount of time. He was actually scared when I didn’t respond to hails. I still don’t understand how he and Vollder ended up at the Jig. But they did.I comforted his fears, again explaining the damned dustbunny had stolen my linkpearl. And now we had a back-up plan. Before long, we drifted off to sleep…and I daresay I dreamt of this mysterious Fiona. Damned tome, gone soggy to the elements in that lake or atop the chocobo stables. Which reminds me, I should read that tome I …borrowed... from the Captain._{((OOC: session 10/15/22 in FFXIV & Discord))}

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Cleaning the Jig & Drinking!

Dear Journal,What a marvelous and chaotic adventure, just to head to a tavern in the Lavender Beds and clean an estate. Cleaning. Tomes! Adventure! ALCOHOL! Mayhem. Allow me to begin at the beginning…

First, Popoto and I got lost wandering the topsy turvy avenues of the Lavender Beds. I rarely come here and most estates had tiny bridges or far too many steps to even read the placard. But lo and behold, there suddenly towered before us a gigantic estate…it had to be the one. But we were at the backside, so had to maneuver around these damned planked pathways to find the front gate. Aye, the placard confirmed it was the Hangman’s Jig.I knocked on the door and was immediately asked to enter; there was Captain Black, None, and her wee pig standing atop a stage. Gods, I don’t know what I missed, but None was getting an earful from the Captain. I suppose that be a Captain’s job; aye? Reprimand. Discipline. Make sure things are tip-top? Even if this was a tavern and not a ship?

None was to be holding me aloft to wash these incredibly tall windows; which served me well as I’d forgotten my stool. As usual, I’d accept my pay after the estate were cleaned; making sure my clients were satisfied with the work I’d done. That very state they stood upon was where we’d begin. Turns out the tavern doubles as a brawling pit, so to speak. Opponents take to the stage once a sennight in “friendly” competition. Splinters and crusted blood aplenty on the wood grain!And I’d learned they be pirates. Well, former pirates? Now running a tavern. Or mayhap that was just a falsehood so I didn’t go run and report ‘em to the authorities. But there’s pirates and then there’s privateers. I knew better than to ask for a distinction; although the Captain herself used the phrase ‘pirates.’ Too late to back out now! I fetched Zigovali the Orange’s dissolvent from my trusty pail, along with some rags, and scrubbed the stage as best I could. The special liquid did well in brining up most of the stains and my beloved broom was able to free some of the debris and splinters. But None said she’d be taking her muscle to the stage later to buff out the bigger dings made by swords and axes. Mayhap if they pounded flesh instead of wood, the stage wouldn’t be in such a state of - well - the state of it all. It was as good as it was going to get, for now…There’s another tavern of pirates they often brawl against, The Bane. I suggested mayhap such brawls be brought to their tavern to give this stage a break from…breaking. I dunno if my suggestion will be taken or nay.There were a few barrels along the wall, crusted in dust; None said they held some ale. I wonder how long they’ve been aging.Windows were next. The Captain said plenty of patrons smoked while they enjoyed libation or bashing each other, and gods, the panes were thickened yellow with grime, smoke, and who the hells knows what. The lights actually shone through as if colored by piss. Deep yellow. Disgusting. And true to her word, None was to be my steed! She hoisted me up on her shoulders as I gave the windows a mighty scrub.

Zigo’s solvent didn’t do shite but spread the grime around as I dug my heels into None’s broad shoulders. The Captain wasn’t impressed, but didn’t seem angered. Each of the filthy windows in the tavern defeated Zigo’s solvent. But None was a delightful steed and stepladder, once even launching me into the air as a ball before perching me on her shoulders. Delightful! But still, swiving windows. I must needs to better anon. Assuming there were to be an anon? None suggested hiring a black mage to tend to the windows, which only made me shudder at the horrors of Master Bethoir’s basement. By the Twelve: nay!Anyroad, the windows be damned, we went on a small tour of the rest of the estate: a small infirmary complete with warm baths, beds, and and a hearth; and more windows. I’d be tending to the bed linens and disposing of any bloodied bandages and ash. Not to mention skimming the hot tubs of skin flakes and scabs…

Upstairs was a long skinny room blocked by metal doors, which easily slid open upon the Captain’s rapping. Within were several, I assume, employees keeping a mindful eye on gil. The Captain made sure to mention she and the gals there knew every coin, so I should get any ideas of snatching some. Little did the Captain know just how much gil I had stowed away in my fishtanks; hm? Anyroad, I’d be dusting the treasury ‘n treasures within.We walked down a skinny hallway passed a covered portrait of the Admiral. Mayhap the swag was to highlight the excess bosom? The frame and portrait seemed rather worse for wear, though. And the Captain most assuredly made a noise of disgust as we walked before she stated I’d no need to tend to the portrait…ever. Into a room of music and tomes, and a potted orange plant. Did you know None and it sounds like the Captain eat the entire peel? To ward off - I think he said scorvy.

Nay - scurvy. Some seafaring disease. Anyroad, I would not eat the peel, and as I’d be up here sweeping anon, dropped my peels straight to the floor as I dined on the sweet juicy flesh of oranges. There was a monstrous piano - and all of the tomes, as I said a moment ago. Only expected to dust things. And could help myself to as many oranges as I so wished.The tour brought us downstairs into the bowels of the tavern. By the Twelve, having an estate on it’s own little peninsula surely paid off. Even the bowels had a wall full of windows letting in all of that bright, glaring sunshine! There was a small stage, a kitchen, and something I’m not to discuss…But gods, did I mention the windows? A whole wall of them. Shite.Turns out the tavern’s bowels have one of them secret back rooms like Inquisity Travanchet’s office, but at least this one I’m to actually enter and clean on a regular basis. That and from time to time empty the ashes in the numerous hearths around the place. I’ll be sure to bring my clockwork carts and buckets anon!There was one last room on the tour of what needs to be cleaned as part of the contract: Captain Black’s quarters themselves. I guess I should have expected such from what I’d already seen of the venue, but another large wall of windows. By the Twelve, how can a house even stand upright having a large number of external walls made of panes? The good thing? There was another potted orange tree, so I made myself at home. To keep the scorvy away; mind you.Anyroad, there was to be dusting and organizing the massive piles of tomes. And cleaning the windows. I inquired if any tomes had voidsent living within - like Master Bethoir’s! - and the good Captain suggested I not open them, but mayhap simply put them on the shelves. I could manage that.She tossed me a sack of gil for my pay before I’d even finished the job. Normally, I wait until after. But nay, she insisted. Hells, I may be around so often cleaning they may just call me one of the crew. Imagine it?Zimzimki Zimki: official pirate? Nay. Never.Anyroad, where was I? Oi, dusting. I had begun to tend to the dustier corners of shelves while the Captain buried her nose in some ledgers at the desk. Who drank wine this early in the morning? She did. I mean, sometimes I did, too - but not today. My linkpearl tickled my ear and it was Red! In hushed tones I let him know my new clients had a rather large estate and I’d make it to House of Virtue if I finished in time. I also let him know they were pirates. He asked if the estate was located in Mist; as anyone would assume a pirate would. Nay. He asked if I felt safe. Aye! I mentioned my regret in having forgotten my magicked stool...and he asked for the address so he could bring it to me. I am a businesswoman of discretion! I refused to provide the information and luckily he understood. I let him know I’d reach out if I where in need of aught. When we disconnected, I pried a peek behind me. The Captain was just as buried in her books. I think I managed unheard…

The morning drew to the afternoon with me chasing dust with the duster and broom. At one point I found the Captain poised behind the Jig’s bar, once more nose stuffed in a tome. I asked how she felt about drinking on the job…Much to my happiness, she was more than accommodating! I asked for rolanberry-anything and she handed me a beverage full of mostly booze, some smashed rolanberries, and a slice of lemon. Also known as the *Sweet Victory.” Sweet indeed. My kind of drink! Tall, strong, and berry-y. The Captain joined me in libation, this time opting to just drink out of the wine bottle itself. I suppose there’s something to be said of efficiency.May I just say…the Sweet Victory? It had to be some top notch shite ‘cause it hit me like a ton of bricks. Had I eaten that morning? I don’t recall. But swivin’ hells - poor life decisions. More on that later…let’s see if I can remember most of the details clearly.I tried to clean the thick grime crusted atop each table with a butterknife, but it made not a lick of difference. More stubborn than the swiving grime upon the windows that still taunted me with their film.Another sip of the Victory…and we meandered to the infirmary. There was something about the Captain not owning a lick of flounce or bright hues in her wardrobe. I think? Or mayhap we were discussing the state of my own attire? Shite. I don’t remember. I do, however, recall making comment that Lalafellin step stools were needed as I couldn’t reach the jars of ointments and elixirs, but Merry says I did a fair enough job cleaning them. I didn’t even break a one of them!

My damned linkpearl buzzed again and I excused myself to the other side of the infirmary for privacy. It was Inquisitor Travanchet asking for time to reconnect at his office; alas, I shooed him off quickly as I was in the middle of cleaning. When I turned around, the Captain was gone. Mayhap she went to fetch her wine bottle?I meandered back to the bar. Nay. And as I turned around, I was met by a tall Elezen woman dressed in a beautifully bright and ruffled red dress. Now that is the shite I’m talking about! I definitely had too much libation as I swear to the Twelve that woman stepped through the wall. I introduced myself and gods how her voice drifted like a song on the wind. She asked if I were amongst the crew - or at least if I were a pirate; nay, but I added I’m the housekeep to the Jig. I surely hope the Captain didn’t mind me making my position sound more permanent than just “it’s my first day here.” I asked if she’d seen where the Captain went as I spied my Sweet Victory glass across the tavern and moved to retrieve it.

I heard the Elezen state she was the Captain; or was. Something about Murl. Mearl. Earl? Swiving hell, SPEAK UP! When I turned around, she was gone. Where was everyone going? Mayhap downstairs?! Nay. Upstairs. Captain Merry sauntered down the stairs, ledger in hand. Gods, the beverage. I couldn’t feel the tip of my nose…and then some.Anyroad, we couldn’t find the patron in red. Instead, we sat back and admired the beautiful glistening window panes. Gods, how they sparkled. Or mayhap that was just Sweet Victory behind me belches. There may, or may not, have been some dusting of gil and golden vases. But I most certainly remember giving the Captain a piece of my mind due to their lack of attention to the U-ACT Initiative and stools. Don’t remember her retort…

We made pleasant conversation about the Admiral’s bosom - well, I made it pleasant while the Captain grumbled - and I learned the damned portrait was cemented to the wall by the Captain’s wife. I didn’t know she was married.There was dusting, and more oranges, in the music room. And I do believe the offer of a strong coffee? That may have been in the morning. Yes, Journal, this goes through to the next sun. My one sun of cleaning became two. The estate - it’s so big…Anyroad, the Captain plucks a pleasant tune on the lute! And I apparently made the upstairs windows filthier than they were. Or so the Captain says. I blame her eyesight…I was tuckering out, and gods, so much booze in my belly. I asked if she’d be remiss if I stayed the eve; nay. I was welcome to the bed in the infirmary. I handed her my linkpearl for safekeeping. At least I had the frame of mind to do so.

Downward to the kitchen the Captain deemed should be next. As there was a sink full of filthies and no way for me to reach them, the Captain dragged over a bar stool; aye, that would do. Conversation flitted to work and Merry bickered about Merl (there’s that name again!) making pirating illegal. Gods, the dishes felt like they took bells to peel of all the grime and scraps before setting the cleaned wares in the rack to dry.We weren’t done; nay…There were, sweet Journal: more windows. So many windows. And they were floor to ceiling. The Captain disappeared into that secret-not-so-secret room and procured a rather large stepladder.Now, Journal, you tell me: is it a good idea to ask a drunken Lalafellin housekeep to ascend a tall ladder? I think not. But she hovered nearby, supposedly to catch my arse if I had fallen. Although she’s old; I learned she’s more than twice my 26 summers. May explain the white hair.

Anyroad, it went by without a hitch; moving the ladder as needed from window to window until each gleamed like polished jewels. Even the Captain seemed in awe of my handiwork. I think? And just like that, the task moved back to dusting. But I couldn’t recall where I’d left it.Just as I was asking the Captain how she felt about slimes cleaning the floors, it didn’t matter as suddenly a dust bunny spriggan ran by wielding my beloved feathered tool. Foul Demon! I remember a struggle of strength and willpower betwixt myself and the dustied critter while Merry stood back and smirked. I wrestled it free from the beast before it scampered away to darkness, leaving me to flit about the area dusting as the gods intended: with feathers and not slime.

We made conversation as I continued to work. Turns out the Tavern be infested with the spriggans, covered in dust and snatching small things here and there: quills, an odd shoe, house key. And feather dusters, I’d like to add. As the Captain continued to have her nose in a tome and scribing, I asked if she journaled. Nay, just kept track of figures and such in a journal. She used to journal, but said such things could be found and used against you. Made me think of you, dearest Tome, tucked safely hidden amongst the nooks and crannies of the ‘Suds.The libation of the day seemed to seep out of my pores as we moved on to the next stage of cleaning: more windows. This time in the secreted room behind the tomes. Gods, how I sweat as the sun glared through the panes. My head cleared a bit with each falling bead and the state of the windows: I think they looked marvelous. Although the Captain made some nasty face and scribbled more notes in her ledger. Mayhap she’s got one of those faces that always looks cranky, even if they’re pleased? I’ll have to learn to read her lines a bit better if we’re to continue our employment relationship.

We examined my handiwork and she saw the windows as half as clean as I did. Mayhap was the patch she wore over an eye. So I inquired if she still had one beneath the leather. AYE! She did! And it was clouded like mine! Although hers was some bargain maid with an old hag. No...crone. Same thing? Anyroad, I found it fascinating with both had clouded eyes that were sensitive to excessive light. No wonder she wore a patch around all these windows. By the Twelve: so much glass.Before we could say aught else, the swiving dust bunny ran over and snatched my feather duster straight out of my hands! Foul creature!! That spriggan would be mine!!! MINE I SAY! But where to find it as it had sprinted swiftly up the stairs. The Captain knew exactly where those swiving pests made their home: None’s workshop. Gods, how the words were said with a bit of ice and fear. The Captain refused to go in there. Nay. If I thought None’s laundry was bad, imagine her workshop? Gods. I had to do it. That beast could not steal my shite and get away!Now it was a matter of principle! Finally the Captain consented to accompanying me into the workshop and I ran upstairs far faster than her old bones could. I was already within, waiting, when she joined me. The stench that hit my nostrils almost made me lose what meager contents remained in my stomach: dirty laundry, unwashed dishes, stale ale - and I don’t even now how to describe the rest of the stink. The state of the place was horrific!But there it was. The spriggan. With me duster. I sprinted past and used my beloved duster to poke and prod some pile atop a stairway. We ilmed closer to investigate. I watched the pile, as did the dust bunny spriggan, and suddenly it jiggled into life, rose up, a gaping maw engulfed the small creature and literally ejected my beloved feather duster. Where was the spriggan? Gone!All that remained was a gelatinous green slime. AH! A POCKET SLIME! As the Captain groaned at the mere sight of the thing, I brought out my own pocket slime, stretched the bead, and placed it on the ground so it could expand to it’s full slurping power. What I didn’t understand was if None had a slime in here, how was the place still a wreck? Merry suddenly put a horrific thought in my head: if the one slime can slorp up a dust bunny in one swallow…imagine what one - nay, two - could do to a Lalafell. Suddenly my wee cleaning tool seemed more terrifying. More deadly. I wanted naught to do with it.

I leapt upon the nearest countertop and the Captain an I both scurried to for the door before such nightmares could come to fruition. As soon as the door slammed behind me, I followed Merry into the tavern, begging for a drink to calm the patter of my heart. She obliged, taking a slender bottle off the barback and pouring the contents into two shot glasses. She downed hers immediately and I followed suit.Gods. It was like something the gobbies would use to clean their metalworking…with a hint of some type of citrus. Blech. She poured us each another glass, and stumbled to sit at the bar next to me. I remember slamming the shot…then waking up the next morning in the infirmary bed. I don’t remember my dream. I’d no idea where my linkpearl was. And it even took me a moment to remember where I was. I had quite a headache, but crawled out of the bed.

No one was awake and as I made my way into the common area and tavern, I realized what a piss-poor job I had done of the windows. Nay; that simply would not do.I snuck out as quietly as I could and made my way to the market to purchase some new attire as my maid dress was nearly starched in sweat. And when I had wandered back inside, the Captain was sitting at the bar, drinking what I presumed to be coffee. I apologized for my lack of decorum for the previous sun and refused to leave until the job was done…and done right. I asked if she’d had my linkpearl, but nay - it appears to have slipped from her pocket over the course of the night. Shite.She teased I’d may as well join the crew as the estate would never quite look right. I accepted her challenge, knowing full well I could and would tackle this beast of an estate. We’d start with the Captain’s quarters today. She carried her coffee mug and followed me in, slumping at her desk. I wonder if she slumbered a bit while I tidied.

While she was mumbling, or possibly sleeptalking, into a tome I took liberties and dusted the bottles of liquor on her table and giant pile of loose tomes. I made inquires as to how she inherited the estate and actually got a response! The Captain’s wife passed in the Battle of Carteneau, but was often known for dancing naked on the beaches. Ah, a fellow nudist! YES! I’m sorry to hear she’s no longer among the living.With the exciting news of dancing in bare flesh, I further toppled the mass of tomes and one fell open at my feet. It’s text teased of Fiona and her fingers dancing upon the flesh of another, biting sheets, and wonderful lewd imaginings I dare not plagiarize here. Another displayed an image of a cauldron with words I couldn’t read and another was just a ledger of inventory; both of little interest to me. I snagged the Fiona-tome and wiggled to the hearth to read a little further, hoping the Captain was busied by her ledgers and didn’t take notice.

Gods, I had to see how this tome began and ended, so I crammed it down my smallclothes, tightened the drawstring around my trousers, and pulled my shirt down harder before I resumed dusting. There was no defeating it. The moment my feather dusted lifted it from spines and shelves, it simply settled back down upon the surface. The Captain may be right: at this point, I may never leave…I plucked another orange for eating as I made my way to tackle the Captain’s personal facilities. The carbuncle tub was beautiful, but I still gave it a wipedown after removing my shoes. As I did so, I inquired as to the Captain’s favored scents and soaps. Lavender…while soaking and drinking a glass of wine. Serenaded by None’s stomping footfalls nearby. Aye, a woman after my own heart. Scented oils, wine, good rhythmic music.But godsdamnit, she also seemed to have a severe love of windows. Four huge ones graced the wall of the bathroom, showing off a beautiful view of the nearby waterfall and lake. And the Captain was kind enough to drag a bench over for me to stand upon while I attempted to give them a cleaning. I made excellent progression the first three, or so I like to think - I can’t yet get a read on the Captain and her expressions. But the fourth?Gods, Journal…the fourth was almost my undoing.

As I was scrubbing, the Captain let on that she, too, used to be a Siren, which led me to wondering if she also danced naked upon the shorelines. Well, swiving hells, I pushed to hard and shattered the window, plummeting straight through with the broken glass. Flashbacks of Stiltzskin flooded my brain before suddenly naught. Darkness. And pain.Was I dead? Nay. My face hurt. Naught would hurt if I were dead; aye? Was I covered in blood? I was wet. NAY! It was raining! And what was that noise? Where in the seven hells was I?I opened my eyes, rolled onto my back, and struggled to regain my breath. I saw the light of Merry’s bathroom window nary a floor above me and apparently had landed upon a wooden structure. By the sounds of upset “kwehs” beneath me, assumed it was the estate’s chocobo stables. As I lay there wheezing, I suddenly heard the Captain’s concerned voice from below me asking if I was alright.

Was I? Well, I wasn’t dead; so, aye. Her top-hatted head peered over the stable’s roof and we locked eyes. The elder Siren had climbed upon the precarious barbed fenceposts to help me down. Well, she’s a winner in my tome. Her bird, I think she called him Chaos? Nay. Mayhem…anyroad, Mayhem helped her help me down as well. Not the sturdiest ground beneath my feet, but it wasn’t long before the Captain and I were both standing on the lawn.I had lost that lustful tome. No idea if it stayed atop the stables or had launched into the waters beyond the fenceline…I will never know. But the Captain offered me a drink to soothe my soreness. Gods, how my face hurt. Apparently it was bruised and battered, a bit cut open here and there, no doubt from the glass. I insisted she send me an invoice for the replacement pane.And back into the Jig we went.It’s too early in the morning to be falling out of windows…But its’ never too early in the morning for some libation. Before she poured, the Captain opened that damned ledger and wrote several notations. I’ve no clue what, but it took several moments of her time…I perused the menu and ordered a “Death in the Afternoon,” in honor of the near-death experience we just shared. Not only today, but last eve with the carnivorous slimes in the workshop.And I suddenly recalled my feet were unshod. I excused myself as she began to fix my beverage and made my way back to her office. Unseen, I slipped my shoes on…then made my way to her pile of tomes to find another. A thin red leather bound tome caught my eye and I quickly shoved it back down my smallclothes, once mores cinching the drawstring of my trousers tight and pulling my shirt down.As I re-entered the tavern, I watched as the Captain laid a cube of sugar atop a wee slotted spoon carefully perched on a fluted glass. Bright green liquid was poured over the cube, slightly melting it as it descended into the glass. And then she poured champagne over that! The cube continued to disintegrate into the glass and the Captain stirred the entire concoction before sliding it across the bar with a wink. Gods, I should learn such showmanship for the Crimson’s bar!

As I sniffed it’s very alcoholic scent, I asked her favored color. Mine: green. Her? Black. Of course. By the Twelve, the woman needs to spice up her wardrobe with all sorts of hues. Mayhap plum purple. Or halatali yellow. I bet rolanberry red would go great with her hair!Gods, the bubbles in the beverage were divine. Straight from my belly to the tip of my noggin. I inquired further of yesterday’s patron clad in red, to which the Captain denied she ever saw. And as the bubbles and green libation made their way through my veins, my face pain waned in spades! I once more offered to replace the window…but the Captain had other ideas.She’d make me one of the crew until I worked off my debt. I had plenty of gil back in Goblet, but nay - something about the principle of the thing and earning one’s wages…and the fact that gil wouldn’t clean the windows. I looked toward the wall; by the Twelve, they were just as smudged and grimey as when I arrived yesterday…nay; they were worse.Gods, I could feel the drunk hit me straight in the face like the chocobo stables. The cocktail certainly lived up to it’s name. So, I agreed with the Captain. Like it or nay, I’d be indebted to the Jig. Part of the crew? Nay. I’m no pirate. Aye: part of the crew; she insisted. Fine. Aye. A debt’s a debt. And I most certainly broke a window. We had an accord. Free to come and go as I please, but under the Captain’s command until the panes had been paid for in elbow grease.Suddenly in walked Vollder and Grinly. How in the hells does someone I know scamper into a tavern I’m cleaning? He was relieved to see me, although bit concerned over the state of my face…and just as they arrived, so did another swiving dust spriggan! Foul demon!

I asked Vollder if he could pass on a message to Red and to Bumpkin as I’d lost my linkpearl somewhere in the estate. He seemed surprised…but messaged Badge immediately and didn’t share Red’s linkpearl. Grinly snarled at the dust demon as I retrieved my feather duster from whence I last left it: the Captain’ office…I checked on the state of the “borrowed tome” before I joined my new Captain and old friend back at the bar.I lunged at the dust demon with my duster, but it grabbed the feathered head and we were in stalemate tug of war, the thing chirped as I burped and then Grinly suddenly had ahold of the damned beast in his maw. He shook and growled and shook it some more before the wicked thing poofed away in a cloud of sparkling dust. I was free with my duster! And where the foul thief once stood lay my linkpearl: beautiful and dusty on the floorboards of the tavern.I blew off the film, shoved the thing in my ear, and let Red know I was safe. He asked where I was and I gave him the address as he inquired rather hastily and a tone I’d not heard before. I began to fill him in no my adventures just as Badge walked through the door and Vollder began to say –** ((The next several pages have been quite obviously ripped out of the journal, ragged parchment lines the inner spine.)) **_{((OOC: session 10/14/22 & 10/15/22 in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Poor Day at the Suds

Dearest Journal,Oi, what a day at the ‘Suds. First of all, Badge kicked my arse in Triad just as a new client walked in. Gods, she was dressed in all black, literally head to toe. And what a head! Silvered hair crowned by a glorious top hat. She was sporting a long coat with a tear down the sleeve…Mending. Easy enough! And a potential estate cleaning to add to it! Apparently, she runs a tavern with a full crew and deckhand - either the tavern be on a boat or she’s some salty ex-sailor? Anyroad, if I mended well today, she’d have plenty of coats in need of my needle and thread. Plenty. Whether boat or building, her tavern had grimey yellow windows. I smelled so much gil-potential. Gods, I must have been salivating!Where was I?Just as I was making formal introductions of Badge and myself, in walked Cole! But back to proper introductions! Captain Meredith Black of the Hangman’s Jig. A right proper large estate. And gods did her tone shift if I inquired if she be affiliated with the Maelstrom. Mayhap she had breakfast caught in her throat?Anyroad - where was I?Cole and the Captain met - she insists on being called Merry lest you’re a part of her crew. So, Merry shed her torn coat for me to mend and Cole handed over a large sack of laundry. As Badge made Cole the perfect cup of tea, I dumped his shite into the launderpot and set to find my needle and thread for Captain Merry’s coat. Black thread at Merry Black’s request.While I did my best to mend that swiving hole in the sleeve, Badge and I yammered on with Cole about his quests to hunt down slavers. His hunt led him to working with law enforcement in Kugane - I believe he called them the sexygummies. Well, I’ve no idea how to spell it, but he said they're akin to the Brass Blades, but of Kugane; patrolling the streets to keep folks safe.The hole was trickier than I thought and gods how my thread bunched and puckered the material. The ‘Jig Captain didn’t seem to mind though as she donned her fixed coat. She even said I had the skill as stitching as their crew’s chirurgeon! Me. Stitching like a chirurgeon! I’d wager they’ve a delicate touch and skilled lines. Mayhap this Merry Black was a big blind and in need of new spectacles? Hells, who am I to argue with new clientele? Gil be gil!While Badge fed Nibbles some nibbles, I ushered Cole’s wet laundry out to the launder poles. When I came back in, Bage was engaged with a new customer who had snuck in while my back was turned. Something about getting the smell of wet rain out of clothes. Now what would be making clothes smell of fresh rain? And why would anyone wish to rid their attire of such freshness? Mildewed post-rain stench; aye, but fresh rain? Nay! Ikaros be his name, he said, as I blurted out to Captain Black the prices and inclusions of cleaning a large estate. I watched was Cole fed Nibbles a bit of cookie…great. He’ll only grow rounder!Suddenly in burst another Roe, this one her arms laden with loose laundry and she addressed Merry with gusto, “Captain!” Safe to assume part of her crew; affirmed by Merry as she introduced her deckhand and other-half, “None.” Odd name. But who am I to judge? By the Twelve, these advertisements were getting around! Three new faces in the ‘Suds!Ikaros was wearing his rain-soaked attire, so I sent him downstairs with our signature SNS clothing - ya know - the dalmatica and trousers. The clogs in case his boots were too muddied. White he toddled downstairs to change, Badge fetched an insane amount of raisins per Cole’s request. And None gave me her foul-smelling attire. Gods…salt? Sweat? Ale? This could be a challenge. And at least it didn’t smell worse than Sasha’s diapers. Not much will, I suppose. It was a blend of regular clothing, leathers, and armor. Recalling the horrors of Inquisitor Travanchet’s armor, I declined to do such at the ‘Suds. But sorted the clothing, shoving them in the pot, and dragged the leathers to the counter for some dry brushing and polishing. Ikaros brought up a basket of his attire and they went into the pot with None’s. Of course he didn’t tell me until it was too late - his boots were mingled in with his dirty clothes. Well they’re in the pot now; may Nymeia not prove cruel today.Badge and Cole bantered back and forth a bit about the sheer amount of raisins he’d just been gifted. A sack. He gave the poor man a sackful of the shriveled grapes. I laughed as I worked the powder into the grain of None’s leather with a soft brush. Ikaros just stewed over the launderpot fretting over his only pair of boots before grabbing the big wooden spoon and failing miserably to try to fish them out. At least he had the clogs should his footwear not survive the boiling waters. By the by, they film that bubbled to the surface - surely the handiwork of None’s briney attire. Gods - I’d not seen the like of it before. Just…frothy grime, mayhap a bit of oil? And you could practically see the crust of the salt air - or was that sweat-salt? I – I didn’t want to think about it too hard.Everything came out of the pot - except for Ikaros’ boots which even I couldn’t fish out and I hung the Deckhand and Ikaros’ attire on the line while fetching Cole’s from it. I’m ashamed to admit while I was folding his attire there were some wee stains still present. I said nothing; mayhap he wouldn’t notice?We blathered on more about Cole’s work with the sexygummies and finding traffickers until it was time to fetch the dried attire of None and Ikaros. I thought they smelled as fresh as the summer sun, but Ikaros stated they still reeked of rain. I countered mayhap the lingering scent was up their nostrils, but nay - they insisted it was the attire. I gave him a full refund as he wasn’t happy with my handiwork, regardless of the dispute in stench. The customer be always right; aye?And speaking of stench? Whatever it was that None had soaked her attire in prior - that brine or sweat? By the Twelve, they still stunk. Not a good day for my beloved launderpot and new patrons. Nay. I also couldn’t brush the stains from her leathers, so free of charge. And here’s to hoping the Captain would still take me on for a cleaning contract…even after the poor showmanship of laundering. Mayhap Ikaros’ boots soured my launderpot?My fears were misplaced as the Captain creaked as a ship when she rose from the stool, advising I’d be summoned in a few suns to the Hangman’s Jig for a proper tour and we’d draw up the contract.Anon! I’ll be swimming in gil for cleaning a large estate!_{((OOC: session 10/11/22 in FFXIV))}

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Weavy's Water Broke

Dear Journal,Badge and I were talking before my Crimson shift - he man simply will not put whiskey in his tea! - Anyroad, we were talking and celebrating my new duties as Manager of the Crimson when suddenly there was a buzzing of his linkpearl.Gods, how he paled and grinned like an idiot listening to whomever was prattling on the other end. He gave me a quick kiss and announced Weavy’s water had broken! The twins were on their way! As was he - off in a poof of aether.And off I went to the Crimson. We had a new patron arrive and she couldn’t pronounce my name worth shite. I corrected her so many times before I finally gave up. With the amount of libation she inhaled, mayhap her head was soft. Tim, Sim, Bim. But never Zim.By the time I made it back to the ‘Suds, Bumpkin was already home, a glowing beacon of happiness. Totori Tori and Gwyn Fryn Cupcake had arrived safe and sound. Broc and Weavy were doing well, too…although Weavy was ordered to bedrest.Grandpappy Bumpkin.A new bundles of joy…not to mention the potential for more laundry in my pot!Such a joyous occasion!_{((OOC: session 10/9/22 in Discord))}

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Azem, the Hostelry, and Tarot

Dear Journal,It’d been nearly a summer since I’ve had my last tarot reading and seeing as I’m a member of their VIP system I figured I’d make a call to the Hostelry and book an appointment. Azem was available today and I made my way there after I left the Shimizus in Shirogane.I, as usual, got lost in Empyreum. Every swiving time…lost. Why? How? Zero sense of direction. Even when I use them wee aetherytes, I still get lost. Anyroad, didn’t seem to ruffle their feathers and they were more than welcoming. I was dressed and ready for my mummery tour I’d had scheduled later that evening with Amaurot staff - just in case it was as adventurous as our last mummery memory into madness. And Azem made comment of my well-chosen attire.Did ya know, Journal - and don’t you swiving dare tell a soul - that Azem is afraid of wo nay - I shan’t disclose it. What if someone finds you? Such as Badge? Or another? Nope. I’ll not reveal their fears to any who many read you, beloved tome.Where was I? We spoke of life and death and my uncle. And just as I settled onto the table’s bench and removed my tin can helmet, Altanai showed up! Azem was about to shoo her away, but Alty’s family, so I invited her to stay for whatever tales the tarot told.I mentioned that I’d been dreaming again, thanks to their tinctures bringing dreams forward and giving me a bit of control over such. But I’ve that I’ve been having long-winded conversations and tea with version of myself. But instead of my head and face, I’m yapping at a light brown sea urchin top other-me’s shoulders. All squish and sea water and I can never remember the actual conversations.The cards were drawn and flipped.A five of goblets, reversed. How Azem read it, I’m a a place of acceptance. Where I am in life, my strength, weaknesses and just how life is happening. Aye. That was easy and well-read.An eight of coins and the card was a bit warm to the touch. Something special with Azem? Did they use magics to warm it? It was comfortable. And apparently their deck often reacted such. It was…special. Back to the card!! It symbolizes my work ethic and how I feel about it from tip to tip within myself. I’m successful (I could have told you that), but often at a cost of my own health. I must needs take on less and rest more. Remind myself to eat when I’m hungry and do something nice - mayhap take a short reprieve and vacation. Follow in the footsteps of Mayberry for a change? Pay attention to myself as I pay attention to my clientele.Altanai piped in that she’d been telling me I was in need of a break. Aye, that she had. Had I listened? Nay. Will I listen now? Mayhap…Badge walked into the Hostelry. Was it time for the mummery memory already? I asked him kindly to wait outside; I know it’s cold, but he’s severely warm-blooded and should be fine. The reading continued, but drew to a quick close.It was a confirmation that my urchin-Zim had been trying to tell me to sit back, relax, find some time to tend to myself. All of me. Inside and out. Take a break. Step away.I - I didn’t tell either Azem or Alty that I’d only that morning accepted the Managerial position of the Crimson Casino. Mayhap a vacation soon…but when? Anon…With that, we scooted toward the hearth and lounge of the Hostelry, after inviting Badge back in, of course. And we simply waited for friends to arrive, one by one, for yet another trip down madness and memories and mummery and magics. We’d be leaving just as soon as Red and Ume arrived. Azem, Emet-Selch, Altanai, Badge, and myself were already there. We didn’t have to wait long, but Journal? The sheer exhaustion of such a memory is too much - and shall have to wait for another day…Mayhap on the morrow...or later. But for now? Much needed rest. Hey, like the tarot suggested!Oi - on another note, Mistress Urleaux finished bronzing Alex’s glove! It’s now a trophy, won fair and square, betwixt us two Triad fanatics. It shall bounce back and forth from mantle to mantle, to whomever wins that day. Glorious. It is GLORIOUS. She even carved little ivy and flowers along the edges. Such detail. Such craftsmanship! And for now? It sits on my Triad table…Red’s gotta earn it!_{((OOC: session 10/7/22 in FFXIV & Discord))}

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The Crimson's Got a New Manager

Dearest Journal,Last eve I spent my usual slumber party with Red, but as per new stipulations I did so at the Shimizu Estate. Ume and Sasha were also a treat all night and pleasant company. And it allowed me to tend to the Estate cleaning beforehand. And Sasha made one hells of a snuggle partner upstairs on her carbuncle bed. Good thing the both of us were small. I awoke to Red’s hand on my shoulder with a gentle shake…had I smothered his wee Muffin while I slumbered?Nay, she was safe and still sleeping. We spoke of ridiculous dreams in whispers so as not to wake Sasha, until I remembered I had made a purchase while In Ishgard. The vendor was having a two for one special, so technically I bought two. One for him. One for me. And I carried our conversation to my traveling bags across the room where we could be a bit louder with our volume.

Anyroad, where was I? The gifts! They had come in beautifully simple boxes made of metal with red enamel corners. When he slid the lid open, out popped the beauties: I do believe the vendor had called them calamari. A pair of dislocated and animated kraken arms? Tentacles? Mayhap they had belonged to a squid? I didn’t get the story of where they came from or what kept them animated. But his smile was fantastic. As they slid around the room, toying with ankles and table legs, we watched their deep crimson and pink hues slither around as we spoke.Although, we made certain they’d not make their way to Sasha; gods - could you imagine it if my gift had done something to their daughter? I’d never forgive myself. The vendor stated they were harmless; naught more than a spectacle and companion.Calamari. Just a gift for a chuckle. He seemed amused, but also slightly - occupied? Troubled? He sat on the floor of the Shimizu estate, a tentacle climbing up into his lap. I sat next to him and he reached for my hand, tracing little circles upon it.“I have a problem,” he started…

My blood all raced to my toes. Had I broken the water crystals again? What of the bread? Shite. The bread. I’ve never been good at spotting the mold. Did he go to make breakfast and find a crusted loaf in inedible green fur? I swallowed my fears and simply listened, very distracted by the waving plump noodle covered in suckers.In light of recent events and a deepening of friendship and feelings, it came out that I shouldn’t be charging a sennight-fee for my housekeeping services. Well, wait - that’s not it. I’d have fewer duties at the Shimizu estate; basically just doing the laundry as I had time or he were able to make it to the ‘Suds. Gone would be my duties of scrubbing Suckfish’s tank, cleaning each room, swiving missing the mold on the bread. But I could still keep my Lalafellin stool. The one that goes up! I could only assume it was my piss-poor performance with the loaves and the crystals.Nay. Love, I believe he called it. Family. Friendship. Adoration. Not to mention it made things awkward for him when he was called upon to point out and correct my mistakes. Had we never grown close and simply remained employer-to-housekeeper mayhap I’d be fired already. But here we were - eight moons later and incredibly close friends - and the reprimanding business aspect of things made it awkward for him.The calamari made squishy wet noises as they waddled around the room…and proved a great distraction. I asked if mayhap it was because Ume has recently retired from - shite - I can’t say. BUT he said nay. I asked if it was because we had rutted. Was there some professional boundary that was crossed. Nay. Just that our growing closer, it made things…interesting. It was because I was important. Not only to him, but to the family. And that importance warranted more than a housekeep-employer familiarity.I’m wording this all wrong.I could still tend house as I wish, but rather than a paid staff member - I did it because I desired to do it. For the family. As part of the family. Does that make sense, Journal? And, rather than simply do laundry for free at the Shimizu Estate, my duties would be shifting. I’d focus more at the Crimson Casino.Any staff at the Crimson will be receiving an hourly rate comparable to any given casino around these parts; whether it be a hired bard or another dealer. Hells, even mayhap an actual barkeep. Jessica Biscuit will take on the secondary dealer role as her time allows. And as I’d been throwing in time at the bar pit, I wouldn’t want an hourly wage. I keep my tips, and share amongst the staff.

Nay.He wanted more. To share the Crimson with me, of sorts. I could feel the rumble of frustration within his head as I fought him on gil. I shut my yapping trap and listened, picking at the golden lacquer on my nails. Shite, I needed to repaint them soon.I meant a lot to him. As does the Crimson. As does my presence at the Crimson. His proposal: I manage the inventory, the refreshments, the hiring of staff, entertainment if needed, and manage the figures. Such responsibility would come with an official title of Manager. And he would be the Owner and Head Dealer. I’d handle the inners of the Crimson. He’d handle the showmanship and the property, as well as games and prizes.I chortled when he mentioned the figures. And reminded him Hep managed my books while she was under my employ. He’d have to manage the ledgers. All else, I’d be happy to do. But his proposal deepened.As I insisted on no hourly wages, and he knew I’d say as such, I’d be entitled to a cut of the profits at the end of the summer. And keep any tips the patrons feel deserving; not need to split with the House or it’s staff.As far as cut of the profits, I said I’d accept his proposal as long as it were only 1%. One-percent of what the Crimson takes home each summer must be astronomical, and I’d not feel I were taking far more than I’m worth.He countered with 5%. I scoffed so loud, I had to turn to be sure Sasha hadn’t woken. He countered with it may not be as high a figure as I figure. Ah, math. I hate it. Anyroad, as I’d no idea how much the Crimson had in her coffers, and trusted Red to know how little I liked to rob a man of his gil, I trusted his gut.The offer of 5% profits, a Managerial position, and less housework was accepted. Literally sealed the deal with a hug and a tender kiss. Sasha still slept. And the wee tentacles scooted around the room.The Crimson was what it was because of him. And he said it was what it was because of me. Heart and Soul, I think he called it. Each of us brought it to the casino. Or we were just biased toward one another…or made a good team. Whatever it was, I enjoyed the sennight endeavors together.He ran a thumb across my Manderville scar, and I a palm across his own. And just as feelings began to mingle betwixt our thoughts, we heard a stirring downstairs. Ume was up! Stirrings be damned: it was time for breakfast! While he expertly tended to whalloping eggs in a bowl, I shared about my my recent dreams and conversations with UrchinMe. Gods, she was ugly. Who the hells puts a sea urchin atop their own body, drinking tea, and having life conversations? My sleeping brain does.Anyroad, I let him know I had an appointment anon with Azem at the Hostelry to read my cards. Mayhap she can make sense of such dreams.This is Manager Zimki, signing off. For now…_{((OOC: session 10/7/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Chirurgeon Housecall

Dear Journal,After the ‘Suds closed it’s doors and I kicked Bumpkin out the Estate, Chirurgeon Graeskar came by for the procedure we discussed yesterday. Gods, I was nervous as his form filled up the doorway. I hadn’t eaten breakfast since I wasn’t sure it was advisable, but Graeskar said there was no need for me to fast. And yes I could have a nip of whiskey to calm my nerves. He declined, though - being on the job and all…Anyroad, straight to business! Downstairs we went after locking the door - no need for interruptions for such a delicate procedure - I put the kettle to boil as Grae requested tea afterward, and slammed myself a few fingers of good ol Ul’dahn whiskey. Oh how it burnt my empty stomach.The massive barkeep chirurgeon set a large bag down on the nightstand, spread out clean sheets atop my bed, and hummed a jaunty little tune as he replaced his beautiful gloves with medical ones. Gods, I got a peek at his hands. The scars, Journal. I dare not ask how he obtained such. He laid out some looooooong pincers - akin to shears, but no blades; just skinny skewers with wee grippers on the end. And an odd thin thing as well, I don’t know how quite to describe it? Sort o’the shape of a parasol, assuming you opened one up and smashed it flat and took out all the guts.I asked…if those were going where I think they were going. Aye. And the long tongs were for ease of insertion rather than his massive mitts. Anyroad, let’s get down to business! It’s a relatively new procedure, but the device would slip into my baby-balloon and combat any sort of making buns in my oven. Such a wee thing. Doing such great work. Where was I? Business.There was a bit of discomfort. A lot of yapping of procedure and expectation and if it doesn’t work or ends up hurting. By the time I even began to think of what was about to happen, we were done. Gods, I was a bit achey, but that was it.I noticed his hands trembled a bit like Badge’s did when he had to heal. Asked if it was nerves, but nay - they just tremble. Quickly he swapped back to his dress gloves and asked for that tea. If my aches persisted or any sharp pains developed, I’d give him a holler on the linkpearl to have it removed and we’d take the elixir and calendaring route.A man after my own heart, he took 20 lumps of sugar in his tea. More sugar than tea! YES! I’d not figure a chirurgeon would have such a sweet tooth. Turns out he likes the magics, like Weavy. And sugar feeds their aether, so to speak? Prunes have natural sugars, don’t you know? Mayhap I could eat more than normal to fuel my Whalatee Magics!? I’ll have to give it at try next time I’m wanting to blow some bubbles.Speaking of bubbles…Chirurgeon Graeskar called me bubbles. Before he even knew I could burp them while wielding my blue stone? I asked if he had a touch of The Sight. Or knew my inner workings now that he was up in my inners. Nay. He just said it was appropriate as to my nature fo things. I smiled, gripped my blue stone, focused as Red taught me and let out a mighty rip-roaring belch of bubbles and water. They jettisoned toward the ceiling, splashing gently down upon the canopy of Uncle Fofoduti’s bed. I made him blush. I don’t know why? But he was as red as a freshly-ripened tomato. Was the belch too much?An invoice would be coming by Moogle. And we made plans to do this again around Starlight as my Wee Warriors would have to be renewed every few moons. I look forward to his services and his clinic may even be open by Starlight!It’s been a few bells and the ache is beginning to subside. Although, mayhap it’s the whiskey…I’ve had a few._{((OOC: session 10/4/22 in Discord))}

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Sweep 'n Suds Open Again

Dearest Journal,Today the Suds had a repeat customer: Cole, and a new one. Turns out the new customer was quite handy around a launderline and I had their assistance! Badge was wonderful in keeping everyone fed and their coffee topped off. Not to mention we played a few hands of Triad (he trounced me!) before the customers arrived.The new customer, a viera named Giradeath spoke very little more than grunts and groans, but their tall stature came in handy in hanging up coats on the line. And they accepted the gift of the Sweep ‘n Suds official ensemble while their coat was laundering. I couldn’t tell if their syllables and grunting were approval or discomfort? And I was able to remove all the bloodstains from their coat; don’t ask me how.By the grace of Nymeia, I suppose.

Now, to Cole! If you recall, Cole puts on a show at the Carnivale wielding the Whalathee magics! Today’s laundry was an assortment of outfits and Giradeath also helped tend the pot. While we waited for the brew to boil, we learned that Cole also helps hunt down traffickers - people who steal people! He was hot on a case and it’d been a very busy, albeit unsuccessful, sennight. Mayhap better luck anon.

Anyroad, it was a great day at the launderpot. And Cole insisted on tipping…far too much if you ask me. He refused my refusals, so I swore him to secrecy. Never tell a soul I accepted the excess.And somehow? A sack of gil far greater in sum was shoved behind my message book with a small note from the Viera.Swiving people and their tips. Tips are figured into my prices. Oh well, beloved tome, what is one to do but tuck it into the tanks for safekeeping?A grateful day at the Sweep and Suds. Good company, repeat customers, new ones. And all was well with the laundering._{((OOC: session 10/4/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Full Day

Dear Journal,What a very, very, very full day. Sleeping in with Badge led to lunch at the Dawnstar. Somehow he’d had it all set up when we got down there. Mayhap his mammets were hard at work while we snuggled?Anyroad, it was lobster and a chocolate fountain and atop it: grilled sweetfish! Such a Tower!! Lunch was a glorious mess, but not so messy as what we did to that poor fountain. In my haste to reach for some fish, the whole thing toppled over and began to soak into the floorboards.Quickly, we dragged each other down into the sticky mess to add our own…flair…There wasn’t much cleaning to be had. After we had our fill, there was some bathing. But walking down the hall, I noticed a new plaque etched on one of the many doors of the Dawnstar’s crew: Chirurgeon Graeskar.

Hm. I did need to think of ways to keep buns out of my oven anytime soon…especially with how we enjoyed each other’s company. Anyroad, after lunch I headed on over to the Tribunal’s offices to see if my old friend Alvere was around.I knocked on the door and was greeted with the old familiar robotic voice of the Inquisitor's voicebox. I threw the door wide. He immediately swooped up from the desk and ran to me, bending down on one knee as if to propose and enveloped me in a massive hug! As we parted, his hands flapped about as Badge’s often did in some sort of secret code. Hells if I knew what Alvere was trying to say, and I said as much. Oh how he chuckled; and oh how such a chortle must’ve hurt his wounded throat. I threw off my spectacles to get a good look at him as we both settled in at his desk across from one another.Quill and parchment in hand, he scribbled furiously: He was sorry my eye had yet to heal properly (it’s been healing well enough; at least the brightness of lights as causing less pain; and I’d nary a difficulty seeing through it; the hue had changed is all it seems), his hand-flapping was Eorzean sign language, something he’d been trying to learn; and gods, he looked wonderful. Hair pulled back into a tight - I’m assuming plait? I’d not paid attention as we wandered to the desk. A beautifully trimmed beard graced the curvature of his jawline, and he seemed to stand a bit prouder.We blathered on about our new lives a bit, catching up with one another. He’d even send me home with my very own Eorzean Sign Language manual! Something to learn: the hand flapping of silent language. Marvelous! Topics also shifted to the cases he’d been working on. Being as I’m officially under the employ of the Inquisitor and previously signed a non-disclosure parchment, I cannot discuss them here…but…I can say he roped me into the case itself with a bit of a shopping trip to the Crozier! And sweets. And I got a new coat - the hue was a gorgeous shade of celeste green!! And Inquisitor Travanchet said there’d be hairpins, but I didn’t see any in the parcel when I made it back to the Suds. But, I did get to help in an official non-secretarial position on a case in Isghard proper for Inquisitor Travanchet!!Mayhap I left the hairpins in Shirogane?After my little unexpected venture with Alvere, I popped on an airship to Shirogane. The gift I’d purchased had already been delivered and was on hold at one of the stalls in the Dori. I rented a cart, procured a blanket and hempen rope, and had the whole thing secured tight. I escorted the clockwork cart and gift all the way to the Star’s Herald’s new Shirogane office. The thing was nearly as tall and wide as a Hrothgar and must’ve looked ridiculous following me through the avenues.The office was empty, but Red sent me a thought that he was the only one in the office for the sun and I could find him down the hallway. By the Gods, it barely fit through the confined walls. I actually had to allow it to take the lead and push from behind, despite its hard working cogs and wheels. Finally: the third door on the right and he greeted me with a smile.I made him unwrap it there and then, untying knots and removing the coverlets: it was an obscenely large chocobo of sorts, wearing the engineering gear of the Ironworkers. One gigantic Alpha. As I knew Rho’s Zim was a tinkerer, I thought this may be a fun reminder of her. And a gigantic pillow of sorts. Well, a bed for my size; a pillow for him. He beamed, knowing just how much Sasha and Ume would enjoy its ridiculousness.It got better. With the press of a hidden button, it spewed forth bubbles and cards. The perfect mesh of Red and Peach! Bubbles and Cards! Albeit, not Triad cards? But the intent was there. And he understood. His smile only deepened. Rho and Zim. Red and Peach. Both smooshed into a gigantic stuffed plush.As conversation babbled on, our hearts must’ve aligned in some way ‘cause both our scars started glowing that beautiful emerald hue. Something deepened our connection; be it mind, heart, or beyond? Rho did this. The Manderville bottle did this. Or we did this. I will never know. But by the Twelve, when my face warms, I know that mar across my nose glows as the one the crosses Alex’s cheek. And I feel all kinds of fuzzy in my stomach.Alas, the sun had begun to wane and I had to be back to Empyreum to meet with Badge to ride Virtue back to the Suds! But I hailed Chirurgeon Graeskar on my ride back to Ishgard first. I mentioned I had seen the plaque on his door and was curious as to any tinctures or sheathes he may recommend to ward off the making of buns in the oven..ya know: keep seed from taking root in my inners.I daresay I heard him snicker. But mayhap it was the passing wind of the airship? Anyroad, he had an elixir I would have to remember to take daily - OR - there was some type of jewelry for my inners!! Well, not jewelry. An accessory? Nay - what word did he use?! Whatever it was, he’d be having to apply it and pluck it out and reapply it every few moons deep within my baby-maker. The wee thing pumped some sort of elixir all up in my bits and would kill whatever seed was trying to nestle in! WEE WARRIORS! I shall call it my Wee Warriors! Not a stranger to having chirurgeon’s muddling about my business, I was pleased as punch he had something in mind. AND made house calls as his clinic wasn’t yet quite ready. Although the procedure itself could be painful, he promised I wouldn’t feel it in - and more importantly: neither would my mate.A date was set! He’d be by on the morrow after I tended to the Suds’ customers. I was excited! And a little nervous…Have you seen the size of Graeskar’s hands?!I finally arrived back in Empyreum; the dreaded cold was easily beaten by Badge’s warm hug. I bundled up before we mounted his glowing cloud and returned to my beautiful desert home to settle in for the night. Gods, I slept like the dead. What. A. Day._{((OOC: session 10/3/22 in FFXIV; Discord sessions 10/3/22 & 10/4/22; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Walk Down Mummery Lane

[[WARNING: Spoilers of Shadowbringers and/or Endwalker…ish]]Dearest Journal,I’d received a hail from Emet-Selch and a few Hostelry friends for more stories and a trip down memory lane: a guided tour of the actual Amaurot. It would require a bit of magic and theatrics, but a tour nonetheless. Altanai joined us as she, too, was in the area and always up for a juicy tale. My Miqo’te barkeep and his Other (the Viera) - who apparently also goes by Charon to keep confusion at bay would be weaving the tale.I already knew Eme Charon journaled, as I’d helped previously gather materials for them, but just learned that Emet-Selch also journals. I’ll have to remember in case I see any particular blank tomes that scream his name at the stalls.I had brought that smooth stone with me that I’d found over a summer ago - the one linked to Nyra, that fairy - since Emet-Selch’d been the one who encouraged I get to know here better. I must needs confess: I still haven’t. But it just felt right to have her along. You don’t ignore some gut feelings; hm?Anyroad - where was I? Emet-Selch, Charon, Altanai, myself, Nyra – in walked someone I’d never met before and they handed Emet-Selch a wrapped parcel. It was a small, red clockwork car of Garlean make and model. It had a wee blonde Hyur behind the wheel and spun in circles mindlessly. Emet-Selch’s pupils grew and shrank as the tiny toy zoomed and zipped. I couldn’t tell if hew as…excited or annoyed?My stomach growled. Prunes! Prunes for me! I offered them to anyone who wished ‘em. Emet-Selch immediately accepted, stating not only do they keep one’s bowels regular, but they rich in aether. I didn’t – I didn’t realize aether was absorbed via food. Explains Weavy’s desire to eat cake…all of the time.Altanai, on the other hand, still hadn’t eaten the prunes I’d given her a sennight ago. That’s the last time I give her any. Three a day: chirurgeon’s orders! I’ll not be there to hold her hand if she’s ever strugglin’ in the backend department of things. OH how she switched conversations quickly.The mummer memory we were going to explore? The actual Amaurot. The home that both Emet-Selch’s had talked about when we first met. And it’s final days lost to fire and brimstone. And it was apparently beneath the sea. How does fire and brimstone remain blazing beneath the waves? Simply, he said: encapsulated beneath a bubble of air…and suddenly Emet-Selch asked if I’d like to see a full-sized Cubus.A large dessert? Nay! It’s namesake; far larger than the wee gelatinous crumb-eater he’d shown me moons ago. As I wondered just how large a full-sized Cubus was, Charon joined us in the foyer. I immediately offered up some prunes, but they’re just as stubborn as Alty: nay. No prunes. That’s alright; more for Emet-Selch and I!

Perhi walked in just as Emet-Selch smirked, nearly whispered “And we begin…”, snapped his fingers, and suddenly the four of us - and the fairy- were immediately surrounded by suffocating smoke, screams, and roaring flames. What the shite? This was supposed to be a mummery. And it felt - it all felt so real! Giants in dark robes and white masks ran by - some crushed by falling debris. Smoke and blood filled my nostrils. Stained glass of tall buildings sparkled and beamed with firelight from within.“Welcome to the final days of Amaurot,” my Miqo’te friend said, a hint of sadness and acceptance in his voice. Altanai immediately summoned her carbuncle. Or mayhap it sensed the danger that - we weren’t technically in as this was a memory; right? When Red and I practiced mummery magics with the Moogles it was with all mummers and our roles. Mayhap this was the same? It certainly did not feel the same.Thick streams of burning debris fell from the buildings - or was it from the very sky above? And suddenly? Everyone was off running. I kicked myself in the arse for my cowardice and followed as fast as my Lala legs would go! We were separated by a great falling star - or chunk of meteor? Flaming rooftops? Shite - I don’t know what it was but I screeched as I barely missed being crushed. I felt the heat in my lungs.Nay. This was far more real that a mummery memory! Nyra stuck close to me; thank the gods, and I felt far less alone until I caught up with my friends. They were busy fighting beasts of the like I’d never seen before! Dogs, but with twisted faces and boils, appeared out of nowhere; gnashing and growling. The Emet-Selchs made short work of them while Altanai and her carbuncle pitched in. I stood back and bit at my nails as my friend, my fairy, charged into the fray tossing healing energies around.I made sure not to leave their side the rest of the “guided tour.”I flung rocks while Nyra flung spells. There was gunfire, and magic, and fire, falling buildings, fallen giants, screaming, and I think I may have pissed my tights. Little by little, we made our way through this disaster of what once looked to be a proud and beautiful city. There were more beasts, some I’d never seen the likes of, but one? A GIANT pudding with arms, eyes, and a gigantic mouth. Now that - that was a Cubus. Gods, I’d be devoured in one gulp. I have now vowed to always be a bit more respectful of the dessert when I ate, take my time, avoid the wrath of it’s namesake…Anyroad; where was I? There was a story to be told! These creatures all twisted and horrific? Similar to how primals were summoned by the various clans around Eorzea, so were these monstrosities summoned. But not by prayer and worship…but by magics of creation, energy, and fear or something like that? The Emet-Selcheses and Altanai cut them down. All I had to mind my step, watch the story unfold, and dodge falling debris and being trampled.Then suddenly we were upon it. Some gigantic horned beast with spikes and teeth and glowing eyes. The city was burning all around. And Emet-Selch made mention to take care lest I be smashed flat by falling walls. FALLING WALLS? This was just a mummery; aye? Wouldn’t it bounce off of me as if made of cotton?Oh how they tore in, guns literally blazing; some unspoken hatred for the thing that stood before us. Boulders tumbled from the sky, we tucked behind while they emanated a blaze that I could feel on my flesh. World’s most realistic mummery-memory if I do say so myself.The explosion must’ve loosed the foundation around us as walls truly did begin to fall. I wondered, amongst my screaming, just how many times they’ve entered this memory. And why put themselves through this torment time and time again? This time? To prove to me neither of them were mad. That they were, indeed, from another a time long ago, and far older than their bodies portrayed.I continued to scream and run, and daresay piss my hose, throughout the experience. Altanai held her own, brave and true alongside the Miqo’te and Viera. The two Emet-Selchs even bantered back and forth about the state of their bodies while we ran from falling debris and raining fire. Nyra most certainly made herself useful healing my friends and I until that worm with two mouths finally lay dead and suddenly the air was still.Was it done?Alas, nay. Onward.Regardless of my sweaty palms and piss-soaked hose, my friends commended my self-control. What self control? Mayhap in not just fleeing back to the beginning of the city? Anyroad - like I said: onward. We wandered along crumbling bridges and roadways as I witnesses tall buildings topple as if they were naught more than straw houses in a breeze. The vista of the burning skyline was beautiful and terrifying, but not as horrific as the beasts my friends continued to lay waste to. One - this horned bipedal thing - came lunging at me until Altanai distracted it. How my bladder had anything left in it was beyond me - but there I stood in a small puddle of piddle. And still, we moved onward.

Suddenly there was this great flying beast - it wasn’ta wyrm, but something grander. I think Emet-Selch called it Therion? Thereon? The Ron? There Eyon? Something. It flew beyond and out of sight. Anyroad, it wasn’t our next trial. There was a giant popoto with a face and wings. Well, Altanai yelled it wasn’t a popoto…Charon called it a bird. So, a giant popoto bird, that ended up squawking for a lot of friends to join. Again, I ran around and hid and screamed while my friends did their dirty work and the fairy in the stone did her healing magics. Finally, the popoto-bird fell and Altanai and I were urged onward, comforted by the fact that this mummery wasn’t as bad as the real events that unfolded.How could it have been worse? The horrors!A hole of sorts appeared at the edge of the arena and in we walked, finding ourselves somehow above the carnage? Above the entire star. Were we atop some wayward meteor, stuck drifting in orbit? I watched as other smaller masses hurdled downward, crashing into the burning world beneath us. How was I breathing? Nay, I had to remind myself: this was a mummery - not reality. I took a deep breath and we continued onward. Altanai seemed to recognize something of this place, and Charon recognized that in her. How she’d quickly forged a bond with the crew of the Hostelry. Shite. There was Therion again, not one face - but it bore four? Mayhap five? All eyes glaring at us as we made our way through beasts and soared among the stars; ever onward. To what end? To the end.Literally, to the end. End of the meteor-mass. End of the line. And straight into the waiting gaze of Therion. And what do I do? I run, following my friends as quickly as possible - until I slipped and fell right off of the edge. How one falls through space? It’s much as if I were falling in Goblet. Flat on my face, somehow through mummery-magics landed flat on my stomach right atop the same meteor, just in time for this beast to send some blazing light across the surface. I soaked it all in. Every ilm of it. Dead to the world. At least, dead to this world. But still fully aware.Altanai and her Carby raised me up just time time for me to once more succumb to some horrific attack by this beast. Why would anyone come here again and again? I watched, from above my own body, as each of my friends silently fell to the chaos. Yet each of us rose together, whole aagin. Ah, mummery magics! Each of us, once more, to face Therion. The Emet-Selecheseses even seemed snarkier than normal. It would fall this time. Not us.History lessons were to be learned, as were lessons of patience and fortitude. My companions gave me hollered instructions as we tried again, Charon was to be my faithful steed - someone I could follow, if literally not be carried through such an endeavor. Fought on they did until the beast finally fell and vanished in a thick poof of - was that aether? By the Twelve, I was heaving in sweat and piss and tears. My beloved barkeeps commended the way Altanai, Nyra, and I conducted ourselves through the ordeal.What a memory. What a loss. Such grief. Such terror.As we sat an the stars continued to fall around us, Emet-Selch apologized for not having properly conveyed the severity of the “Final Days” of his home or the adventures such an illusory tour encompassed. But if I thought that it was bad, the moments that followed were worse. Most adventurers who frequent the Hostelry are looking forward to the pump of adrenaline and the cries of battle. Nay. Not I.I can't get the images out of my head.By the Twelve, I would be mad too if I survived such devastation and loss. All fears aside, it was indeed an eye-opening experience. I’m reminded of my conversation betwixt the two Emet-Selchs when I had first only me them; mourning a home long-since gone. Now I know…Altanai asked a complex question. If the Final Days had already occurred; how were we all still here today. Surely the world that died beneath us wasn’t our world? Nay; they had spoken previously of a different place. What an absurd question.Something about Zodiark? Again, with that name. Wait - wasn’t that the waitstaff at the Hostelry? Well, he was summoned. I wonder if he brought his edible snails with him. That produced a terrifying chortle from the Miqo’te. Nay - they were referring to the primal. Well that made more sense.A primal. Summoned to attempt to avert the Final Days. Fighting fire with fire; nay? But, more story awaited. More mummery memories, if I so wished the official tour down memory lane with my Hostelry staff. Another time. I was exhausted.Many history lessons indeed. And many more ahead. Anon...with friends._{((OOC: session 10/2/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Life & Death

[[WARNING: Contains tales and potential spoilers of Endwalker…ish??]]Dear Journal,Altanai, Alex, and I found ourselves back on the barstools of the Amaurot Hostelry, unplanned - we all just stumbled upon one another. Oswood also showed up! There was good food (of course), better drinks, and the best: Cubus! Oi, giveaways! I was given a rather large collar and was told I could pick up my prized mount anon. What - what sort of creature would fit into so fat a neckband? And…best of all? STORYTIME!Ye know how these madfolk be mad, aye? Emet-Selch insists he’s over 1,000 years old. Which made me ponder - just how old was Red? If he’d skipped from star to star as he’d professed, how old was he? He seemed certainly old and grizzly in my dreams. So, I asked him in our thoughts.He thinks he’s about 130 summers old now. One-hundred-thirty. I had some old wrinkled cockmeat shoved in my hole, hm? Didn’t feel 130. Nay. Spry as Badge himself, but over twice his age? Madness. Nay, surely not mad. Magic. Aye; magic. Red reminded me that his soul was 130, but his body was only 30 summers or so. Not much older than I, but younger than Badge. Gods, it’s so confusing. In mindspeak, he once more rattled off the names of the places he’d been…and the time spent on each: about five summers here, 80 in some shadowyplace and Azeyma - wait - that’s not right. Azzyfroth? Azkmemuth? Shite. It doesn’t matter. Let’s see - come on brain, work…mayhap 30 summers in Fandaniel. No…Vansfunnel? And over a decade in Sastasha Sos-something…I’ll have to ask him for clarification. Places I’ve never even heard of. I suppose it doesn’t really matter.Emet-Selch must’ve overheard one of our spoken aloud comments because he made mention that his body-swapping days were over. Gods. Now I wonder how valid his claims here if I truly believed Alex’s own tale. Mayhap my beloved miqo’te barkeep was truly ancient and this body wasn’t his one-and-only?Eos was working and as it was the season for All Saint’s Wake, they opted to share a tale of ghosts. And not just any shades: but those that inhabit the Hostelry. Shite. Shades…in the Hostelry. Where I eat my Cubus!?! I swallowed my fear and waited with bated breath, as did the rest of the staff and patrons.It began: Around the time that the great wyrm Niddhog fought the folks of the Coerthas, a bonding ceremony was taking place…I interrupted the tale to fire off a query to Red in my thoughts and he answered he’d rarely rutted expect in Arsemenoth somewhere - with one partner in particular. The bonded couple and their guests opted to celebrate the ceremony within the walls of the Hostelry- I didn’t know it’d been open that long? And one name: Betwixt.Wait. I’m getting my thoughts jumbled with my ink and quill. Some clarity:The married couple were from the Dragonsong Wars era and Eos’ tale.
Betwixt was Red’s partner in A-wherever-the-shite it was.Okay. Where was I? Betwixt. Of all that is holy and sacred - my Red made a pact with a demon! Betwixt was a demon. And not his first. Mayhap the first he’d rutted? Who ruts with a demon? BUT - it reminded me that Rho Red at the Crimson stated he knew far too well the consequences of broken pacts. I wonder if Betwixt was that of whom he spoke?Just as the newlyweds and their guests opened their maws in song and celebration, the Hostelry and most of the area fell to a great ball of fire, flame, and decay. Eos said the group died instantly - with no pain. How would they know? And naught was left of most of them…most of them. And here we get: to the shades. Shite.When Red’s essence fled the last star and hovered in the stream before taking over Alex’s body, he’d officially broken the pact with that demon, Betwixt. She could no longer feed on him. His - himness. And the bride and groom? Perished in a blaze as they shared one last kiss.If any were to take sight of the Elezen lass or her beloved groom, we were encouraged to celebrate their love and embrace their presence. No ill intent was broadcast or ever taken place from such lovers, so no need to fear their ghostly presence. Why they hadn’t moved on? I don’t know. I didn’t ask.Although Betwixt wasn’t on our star, Alex said she had an Other here on our soils. Like the Emet-Selch pair? What if she found him? What if she fed on him? What if she stole him away? I NEED TO TELL UME!

Emet-Selch opined that there were many shades like the Hosterly’s lovers wandering around Ishgard. There was no sense of time for them. Some lingered, others moved on to the stream, but more importantly: we need not fear them. They mostly repeated their last moments before they were caught up in dragonfire: an urchin begging for coin; a priest slipping away from his mistress’s abode…It made me wonder if my uncle wandered the ‘Suds…I asked as much and Emet-Selch surmised he likely slipped into the lifestream as most do. One can hope.All this mindspeak of Others and Red brought up my Other: Zimmy Dazzlewizzle; the tinkerer from my dreamscape. I think he said she was a Numb. Nom? I’ll have to ask how to spell it. I remember her big hairy feet and ample bosom when the I-that-was-she gazed into a mirror in the dreamscape! Me She, the friend of Rho, on that horrid star with overgrown beetles and deep pits in the ground. It seems Dazzlewizzle taught Red most of what he knows of tinkering and metalworkings. I had a good chortle at that and caught a few glances as no-laughing-matter was being uttered by the ghost stories - I have no sense of figures or drawing; let alone tinkering.Our mindspeak was abruptly interrupted as I heard Eos ask Emet-Selch to describe his first trip to the Underworld. The – what – wait?! Thousands of years old. And how many times has he died? Madness, I tell you. Swiving madness. But we all seemed to listen as if Emet-Selch were reciting some grand sermon and no patrons could look away. Mesmerizing. He wove a tale that his people of old had celebrated death; not feared it. Embraced it, even. Funerals were farewells and somber, but yet happy; knowing full well that one day the same person would return reborn…in new flesh. But such days, and customs, were long gone.Journal? It sounded far too familiar with the tale that Alex was weaving in my own noggin at the near-exact same time. Mayhap he and Emet-Selch’s madness were intertwined? Could one’s soul simply glide upon the stream, or wander the Underworld, until it found some empty husk of a body to inhabit? Red had told me when he sacrificed himself on that other star, his soul wandered the Shadowedlands until he escaped and he entered the Red I know and adore. I wonder if the Underworld and Shadowedlands be one and the same? Ya know how some myths and legends share similarities across cultures and continents, even though one tribe’s never met the other?Underworld. Shadowedlands. Rebirth. Souls floating until nestling back into flesh. Too…creepy and coincidental, beloved Tome.Where was I with Emet-Selch’s tale? Ah, suffering. At some point in his lifetime lifetimes, suffering and woe was something we folk were now forced to endure. And at that point, death became something to fear. Something to not look forward to. Not enjoy or embrace. That there was no coming back.But yet there was – because if the mad Miqo’te is to be believed, when he was six summers old, he died. DIED! We didn’t ask how. And he found himself in the Underworld: described it as beautiful vortex of swirling souls flooding the skies and sinking to the earth and back upward, all hued as a rainbow. A - how’d he word it? A symphony of color and light and life. Now Red? He said dying was quite painful, but only for a moment - and expressed he doesn’t remember the pain itself, but remembers feeling pain. Make sense? Gods. Emet-Selch’s spoken words and Alex’s mindspoken words? Synchronous. Both weaving visions of the afterlife at the exact…same…time.Death, life, life, death. Beauty. Pain. It was as if I had one speaking to me on my left and another on my right. Both sharing the same tales, but slightly off. I’d left my Cubus to jiggle on the plate untouched. Oswoods queries made him sound as equally confused as myself. Aye; I should have warned him of the madness that plagues this establishment.But yet…I believe my best friend’s tale as I know his thoughts and heart. I would know if he were lying or touched by senility. Why do I have trouble believing the Miqot’es? Such words would have been obscene nary a sennight ago…but now I have a man on my left who’s endured death and rebirth and lives well over one hundred summers. So Emet-Selch’s claims of advanced age and wandering soul shouldn’t seem so far-fetched…Eos added to this tally of death and rebirth. They admitted they’d perished so many times they’d lost count! And described the Underworld as making the music of the stars. Now, I must confess: I’ve never heard the heavens make music. So, once again I pen about madness. Mayhap the shades at the Amaurot have driven the beloved staff and inhabitants to insanity?Alex needed to take his leave to tend to family before the evening’s festivities at the House of Virtue. I waved him off while I drained the last of my Popoto Surprise (nay; Journal - I will not divulge its secret…it is, however, on the menu at the Amaurot).Both Azem and Emet-Selch agreed: the soul or memories don’t make a person. Experiences form a person into who they truly are. I wonder if my soul would travel the stream or find a body to inhabit. Or if I’d simply be reborn anew, unaware. Or vanish into inky darkness. Alone.Well, shite. Suffice it to say: my beverage pushed right through my system and I had to excuse myself. While I was in the restroom, I heard Alex in my head, which meant he was still close to the building.He invited me out back to enjoy the view and have a proper goodbye before he returned to Shirogane. I quickly hoisted up my smallclothes, washed my hands, and took my leave of the Hostelry. There he was, leaning against the stone railing out back. By the Twelve, the view! How had I never been back here? One wrong step and it’d send this Lala toppling to the Shadowedlands or Underworld or one of the seven hells - or heavens?Anyroad, we shared an embrace upon that ice-covered railing, he holding me close so I wouldn’t fall…his warmth keeping the Empyreum chill at bay. Feeling such strength around me only reinforced that he was in the Here and Now; no longer some lost soul. Our bond, deeper than before. Things had changed…my Bloom. My Desert Fire. Duskwalker.As the minutes passed all too quickly, we took our leave to return to our separate lives. But, anon, the gambling halls would open…_{((OOC: session 10/1/22 & 10/2/22 in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Wine, Forgiveness, and Sweetfish

Dearest Journal,Guess who slumbered in the launderpot? Badge Dawnstar. I came home last eve and found him bobbing in the water; I tried to fish him out but couldn’t. So, I let him sleep, and knowing he couldn’t drown was a comfort…The soaked and dripping Badge Dawnstar, holding his head and sipping on what I presumed was water, slowly made us breakfast. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so out of sorts. He looked like Grinly’s shite smeared across the cobblestones. Oi. He said his head was pounding as drums, so I ran upstairs and turned off the orchestrion player.After we ate, he made his way back to Uncle Fofoduti’s bed and layed down. I dimmed the lights and went upstairs to work my figures while he rested. My linkpearl buzzed a few minutes later…and it was Badge, beckoning me back downstairs with a smirk in his tone. I found him propped up on his side admiring Cob and Lin as they swam around my piles of gil…Mayhap he was just admiring the gil?I prodded - what was he thinking? Was he still sour over recent events and our - our fight? Nay. He was slowly accepting and getting over it. And nursing his hangover. But instead of offering more barbed words, he stated he was working on a drink for the Dawnstar and Sundown: on something in honor of myself. Well - he was - just before I spilled the beans of Red and I rutting. Rather than leave it unfinished, though, and wanting to move passed my indiscretions, he opted to finish it.And I got the first official taste (well, besides his own tastebuds) once he would craft it. A ZimkiFlush, he called it! How wonderfully exciting. I don’t know what’s in it…but that’s two drinks that bear my name. Anyroad, we cuddled and talked for a bit, mayhap clinged instead of cuddled is a better term. Swiving hells, it was tense and awkward.You know what eases awkwardness? Wine. And it just so happened he’d brought back a few bottles of the Dawnstar vintage last evening. What better reason to open a bottle then to mend wounds and smooth wrinkles?Cheers. To New Beginnings.Ah, how his hand wove through my slowly-growing hair and traced the scars that marred my face. They were healing, though; that three-clawed beast in the cave still haunts my dreams. Bumpkin say they ain’t mars - rather a beautiful addition to the tale that makes me - well, me.We rambled on and re-bonded for several bells, just chattering and laughing more and more as the wine bottle got emptier and emptier. And before we knew it? Dinnertime. I dressed the sweetfish and he had the task of cooking them. And this evening: he crafted a fire outside in the front yard - our sweetfish would be cooked over an open flame, beneath the desert sky and glistening stars.It was beautiful. Mayhap the wine in my veins made it moreso. Or just the love of a good man.To new beginnings, indeed. He leaned over and gave me a kiss. A full sun after my lips had met another’s - Badge had already forgiven my misdeeds and planted his tender kiss upon my lips. To new beginnings…The fish cooled, forgotten beneath the moonlight, as Badge and I found each other once more in the warmth of the blaze, hidden in the dancing shadows of the ‘Suds walls._{((OOC: session 10/1/22 in Discord))}

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The Truth be Told

Dear Journal,The deed be one. I’ve told Badge of my our drunken indiscretions. It went as bad as one would expect. But, yet, better than expected.I waited a bell or two after he returned to the Suds. He was sitting at the downstairs table; a notebook open and a quill madly scratching text. I announced our need to talk as he mumbled about prunes and scribbled while he sipped on some beverage. I sat next to him on my own cactuar stool, set a hand upon his, and asked for his undivided attention.Oi. That got it.No sense in sugar-coating it. I exhaled, apologized, and announced that Red and I had coupled in the heat of alcohol last eve. I swear his eyes burned as flames and his hair smoked a moment. He pulled his hand away…Next, the notebook and quill slipped into his pocket. When he withdrew his his hand, he tossed the key to the ‘Suds on the table. He made his way to the wardrobe and grabbed an empty leather bag. Shite.I begged off that mayhap I wasn’t ready for a relationship as he needed; he was my first boyfriend; Zototo doesn’t count as we never dated. Naught more than fluttering hearts, he and I.But Badge? My first screw. First consecutive dates and lusting kisses. First official partner. And I'd gone and screwed my best friend when we were drunk off our arses. Bumpkin had already let slip the love word a few suns ago. And I was absolutely not ready for such. But he angrily spat that I he had obviously come betwixt Red and I and our obvious feelings for one another. That he should have known better. And that I was too selfish to cease my slumber parties with the man, despite Bumpkin’s asking.He deserved better.But I liked what we shared. We both shed tears as words flew from our mouths; some angry, some pleading, others apologetic. Badge wants companionship. A lasting relationship. I like what we have. Just as I thought the conversation was turning to a calmer tone, he flared up and accused Red of stealing my affections; gloating over last eve’s win. That he was more important to me than Badge himself…Gods, the temperature in the room doubled as Badge’s entire body sizzled like that evening in the snows of Ishgard. Shite…I thought of Weavy and the crackling energy; Badge’s ice wall upstairs…But still - his accusations - they fired me right up to defend Alex. He’d not gloat. Nay; he too was worried of the pain our actions would cause Bumpkin. Would cause the two of us. And, aye, he was important to me; we’d shared a bond not many do. But Badge was important to me, too. And I indeed was sorry for my deeds.Heat and smoke turned to tears and sitting on the floor. I stroked his long hair as I’d not else to do to try to soothe the tension. Neither of us wanted to end what we had already begun. But not even a moon into dating a man and I rut another? Mayhap that’s why I cannot ride Virtue; the cloud already knew…?We compromised. He didn’t need love…yet. But he didn’t want to be alone. And I? I was willing to keep trying if he was willing to keep me. But I wouldn’t give up my alcohol or my best friend.Red. Alex. Rho. Badge growled the names…”dead to me,” he said. Such venom. But I need not give up my employ nor my friendship. However, the concession: no more slumber parties. Ever. I could work at the Crimson, but Badge would be there to walk me home each night. I could work at the Estate, but not stay over unless Ume were at the abode and I slept on a separate floor as Alex. I’d share Sasha’s bed, as she was still growing into such.I could acquiesce to such requests. At least he’d not forbade me from seeing Red. That I could not abide and would most assuredly end our dating relationship on the spot. Badge was a smart man. And secondly? He deemed he’d not share the news with Weavy! Could you imagine that Terror showing up here or the Shimizu estate and rendering buildings to rubble? It wouldn’t be the first time; if you believe the tales.I asked one favor: if he was angry enough to consider Alexander Shimizu dead to him, I asked he not come to the Crimson. What if he couldn’t contain his rage? Nay; he said he’d be far more than capable of holding an air of civility.Silence. Awkward and long. It ended with Badge getting up and pouring himself an ale as I washed my face in the bathroom. I found him seated once more at the table, the tankard replacing the notebook from earlier. He gestured an offer for me to join him. I did so, picking at the gold lacquer on my nails.Conversation shifted to other things. I could tell it this was far from over. The wound still gaping and raw. But, Weavy was back from the first; again, I don’t know how she got there or back or where it even is, but was fit to burst her bairns anyday. Now that I don’t understand as she’d only just been knocked up a few moons ago. But apparently time moves differently where she was and things had - progressed quickly. We spoke further on the first - well, I asked questions; he listened. He offered to take me sometime. I especially do not wish to go if time moves differently. Imagine coming back an old crone?Mayhap time manipulation were his goal? Turn back the chronometer just a few suns to wipe clean the slate of last night’s affair? Mayhap turn it back far enough to nearly a summer and I’d not met Red at all? Shite. Nymeia would still weave our threads together…I’m sure that wasn’t Badge’s intent. Although, I’d not voiced my fears and he couldn’t feel my thoughts as Alex could. I don’t think?Anyroad, stomach got the best of me and I found myself up in the kitchenette calling down if he was fit to eat anything. I leaned over the railing as he stared up at me asking if I wanted him to leave for the sun. What? The man was insane. I tossed an apple down for him to fill his gullet; mayhap his stomach was empty and something needed to soak up that ale. I devoured my apple on the way down the loft’s stairs and picked up his half-eaten apple to finish myself.He took my hand in his, asked again if I desired him to leave; nay. Not in the slightest. He pulled me hard into a hug; the musk of his neck reeked of warm tears and sweat. He rested his chin upon my shoulder and I felt him shudder in my arms. Aye; more tears. Before I knew it, I joined him. We just stood there, hugging and crying in each others arms.In time, we’d be okay. Trust would have to be built back up. We stood like that until my legs began to wobble from the effort and he scooped me up and carried me to the oversized glade chair. We cuddled there, watching Cob and Lin swim around their tank.At some point I must’ve fallen asleep. Woke up tucked up in my bed and he was gone. He’d left a note he’d be back on the morrow and not to fret.Well, I can’t get back to sleep ‘til I spill these thoughts, so here we are; ye and me, Journal._{((OOC: session 9/30/22 in Discord))}

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Drinking and Debauchery

Dearest Journal,Last night after the Crimson, we settled at the tables for our traditional round of Triad beneath the spinning blue light as our scars glowed that beautiful green. I asked him to step closer so I may see his cheek…and took my chance to steal a kiss. Gods, how he returned it. The heat of the Goblet made its way into the Crimson’s basement - or mayhap it was just my blood boiling at the thoughts stampeding through my noggin.I announced drinks should be in order. He wandered upstairs to usher Eli out for the evening and to lock the doors behind him. There’d be no further patronage this eve. The Crimson belonged to us. And the Shirogane apartment bed awaited our slumber. But first? Libation!I may have made the drinks a little too strong: one Shimizu Screwdriver and one Ruby Carbuncle. The facts of the evening ebb and flow from by memory and grow fainter even as I try to trap them with ink and parchment.Cards. Triad, to be specific! I remember winning the first game so easily I accused him of throwing. Nay, turns out he “takes Triad very seriously” and would never throw a game. A man after my own heart. Triad became Striple Triad as he lost his gloves and slammed the rest of his Screw’. He kicked my arse the second game, I lost my shoes, and finished my drink.Insert the deeper haze here.Two more Shimizu Screwdrivers were poured; thick on the alcohol and light on the cream. I must’ve won, because I remember yelling for him to strip of his robe. The coward removed his boots instead. Swiving Screwdriver. Let’s see if I can make sense of the pieces that flash back:There must’ve been a draw or two because I remember answering queries. Although what the questions and answers were, it’s beyond my recall.There was another round of drinks. By the gods. How we didn’t drink the place dry is questionable.There was a tale of Ume finding Red’s red ribbon and the great untying of such. I remember cackling at the imagery.I won another contest; mayhap another game of Triad? I don’t recall. What I do recall: I could request anything. Anything I wanted - something I truly wanted - and he’d give it to me. But only for the one evening. Come dawn? The request would be withdrawn.Well that was easy.In the belly of the Crimson, head swimming with libation and citrus, blue hues from the light above making our twin scars glow? If not now, when? I wanted to rut. Actually rut! Not just in dreamscapes. But in the here and now. Pacts of sobriety be damned. All else be damned. I wanted it. I know he wanted it…I don’t remember the words spoken. But I remember the eyes. His eyes. Alex lifted his gaze to mine and they were that vivid emerald green of Rho’s! The man in my dreamscape! The voice? No longer did that voice belong to my beloved best friend. It was gruffer. Grittier. Older. His.He chastised me; this old man of my dreams. This Rho. He had the nerve to admonish me for my piss-drunk state, my selfish request, and the pact I sought to break. He explained that that he and Alex were one and the same; a tale for another eve.So, was it the alcohol? Was I already asleep? Was this all a dream? I…insisted on my previous request. Especially if they were the same person, he and my Red. I could read his thoughts just as easily as I could slip into Alex’s mind. The blood magics held true to this dreamscape Red – nay; this Rho, as he called himself. Or, as he said: they’re one. So, this man - this hyur - was my Alexander.Dream or no, I got what I wanted. Nay; we got what we both wanted. It took some coaxing as I was reminded time and time again of a pact. “Only when we’re sober…” And gods, even those moments are hard to remember. But the tenderness of my nethers and the tears in my stockings? Oh, it definitely wasn’t a dream!This morning we awoke in the apartment bed, wrapped up in the knots of each other’s limbs. And we spoke of our hazed memories. Our friendship that blossomed, fruited, and fermented; literally. Gods, the alcohol.I have to tell Bumpkin. And I let Red know that I would need to do such, and just accept what, if anything, occurred. As he put it, we had a drunken night of Triple Triad that devolved into decisions and actions that cannot be undone…Regrets? Is it rude to say I have none? I pain for the pain I shall be causing my partner when I tell him. But there was something so - needed - about last eve. Drunken or no. And do you know, Journal? Alex Red Rho Red felt the same. No regrets over our pairing; mayhap a little because neither of us were sober. And we did break our promise to one another. But the pain our actions would cause Badge was also something that hurt him. At least we both harbored that pain.Shite.Red and I spent some time talking before I left Shirogane. We both sported deep headaches from too much libation and not enough water. And the waters of the hot tub soothed my aching nethers. He suggested I may need to seek a chirurgeon or an aether-reading to be sure his seed didn’t take root. Anyroad, enough about my nethers…When the light hits him just right, Journal, I can see Rho’s greenery in Alex’s eyes. Like a fleck of glass beneath a running stream; it just shimmers. I’m certain most folks will never see it. But I know. And shall never unsee the shining emerald betwixt hues of blue.Speaking of Rho and the confusion of the dreamscape taking hold of Alex’s mind and body; that, too, was explained. If you recall, Beloved Tome, Red’s memories were gone of all his time before the Miqo’te found him near-dead in the Dravanian Hinterlands. Well, they all came flooding back. Something about the blood magics, our shared dreamscapes, and the bonding had allowed those hidden bits of himself back into the present.Rho. Rho Duskwalker. The man before Alexander Rho. Before Alexander Shimizu.If I didn’t love him as I did and wasn’t able to literally feel his sincerity, I would have thought my lover as mad as Emet-Selch and the rest of the staff at the Hostelry.Duskwalker wasn’t from this star and was some powerful summoner of sorts - using voidsent to his own will. Gods. Voidsent. Hydaelyn was technically the fourth world he’s come from - nay; visited. Whatever that means; however that means. Madness. But he believes it to be true. Wholeheartedly. He wasn’t spinning tales.The body of Alexander Shimizu wasn’t even his true form. Some world ago he perished - or something. Rendered to naught more than aether traveling the stream and found the body he wears now. It’s previous owner had passed on just moments before, and his aether slipped in. Wearing it like a pair of smallclothes. But such a transition had wiped him of his before-memories. So, he’s spent several years as Alexander Rho. Plain and simple. Him. Building his life as he has, but still possessing some of the magics that Rho once had. That explained the blood magics!What did Rho even look like? The real Rho? The real Alex? Well, that was simple: the older bearded man with piercing green eyes of my dreamscape.He named the previous worlds he’d visited. Hells - I can’t spell them, let alone pronounce them. And there was a me there! Well, a Zim-ish me. The one like I had dreamed - all squatty muscle and tinkering as she was. The she and he of that world weren’t as…close…as he and I, but they were still friends.I like to think the Fates spun us back together since he’d left whatever-it-was-called. ZimThere and ZimHere coming together to find him; the blood magics and tinctures wound Red and Peach aether together once again. I was worried that he’d be trying to get back home now that his memories had resurfaced. Nay, he comforted my fear. This was his home. Ume, Sasha, and hells, even I: family. He had enough to keep him anchored here for as long as his heart still beat.I’m stalling…I have to tell Badge. As soon as he’s home, I will.Shite. Shite. Shite._{((OOC: session 9/29/22 & 9/30/22 in Discord and FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Laundry, Diapers, and Conversation

Dear Journal,Ah, another day at the Suds. Badge showed up shortly after the doors were unlocked and agreed to a morning ale! I love a good libation in the morning. Just as his lips grazed my cheek and I turned to fetch the tankards, a customer walked in.Toba Gretno was their name and they, too, were thirsting for a morning ale! A Miqo’te after my own heart! I fetched two ales as Badge entertained our first customer. Turns out they had a few stains on their coat they were hoping I could get out. Well, if I know anything, it’s how to treat stains! He didn’t say if it was blood or rolanberry sauce, but I was lucky enough to still have some of Zigovali the Orange’s solvent, so it shouldn’t be a problem - as long as I minded how many drops I let loose into the launderpot.

As I shoved the coat beneath the boiling water, in walked the hyur with the baby Moogle from the last sennight. If memory serves, her name was Aevum. Since the pot was so full of Toba’s coat, the bairn’s pajamas would have to wait, but she accepted the offer fo coffee while she did so.The Miqo’te opted to drink his ale and wander downstairs. I do wonder if he found you, Sweet Journal, but you appeared undisturbed…Anyroad, as he took the landing downstairs, the Suds’ doors opened and in walked a rather-surprised looking Hrothgar. “Didn’t expect to find a lala-laundress,” he said. Ha. Well, what did he expect? My advertisement did say laundry…should I be elezen instead? He seemed doubly surprised at the Fightin’ Finns and their sheer numbers. Whatever. Curiously go the Hrothgar, hm?Topics and eyes all shifted to the baby moogle. Aevum stated he was about three years old, and just an adorable furred bean! Badge even fetched a small glass of milk for the wee tot named Renn. Gods, his fur stuck up in a fury of tufts and fuzz. As I fished out Toba’s longcoat, in walked yet another new customer. Gods, the ad was working today! At least the newcomer addressed the bewildered Hrothgar, Fava, as if they were old friends. They could be kept busy while I hauled the jacket outside to dry on the line.I held the door open for a hyur who graced my front lawn with their presence and followed them into the Suds. He was either chomping on or slowly smoking a fat cigar and had a torn tabard draped over his arm. I had to bade them wait while I gathered Renn’s pajamas and inquired as to Fava and the new Hrothgar’s needs. Then the hyur would be next. Shite, I needed to keep a parchment handy to jot down the order of things next sennight!Turns out the hyur, Brunhild, knew Fava and Tolem - the two Hrothgar. I’d not heard much from the Miqo’te downstairs, but did offer he help himself to the ale so mayhap they were just sitting and enjoying the quality ale Badge kept on hand. We had to hunt down an empty coffee cup before the cigar dropped it’s remnants all over the floor, but one was had. And Tolem bade we open a window to release the stench that Brunhild brought in with him. Easy enough. I’ll be sure to purchase an ashtray anon.

Now - back to the pajamas! And Tolem required his coat, too, be freshened up. Speaking of coats, the first customer of the days’ had dried quite nicely, but they were nowhere to be seen. I’d hold on to it if they ever returned. Oi - the coat. Let’s see, rather than a quick dry-brushing, they wanted it fully-laundered, so into the pot it went with Renn’s pajamas and while I chatted up the Moogle-mother. Badge had disappeared into the bowels of the ’Suds, but I could hear dishes clinking.I left the clothing to boil and addressed the hyur with the torn tabard. Mending and laundering were needed. Not a problem. I tended to the mending with white thread as requested, watched Badge top of people’s tea and ale, and pulled the coat out of the launderpot. Couldn't find Renn’s diapers or jammies for the life of me. Mayhap they’d boiled over? Shite. Mor gil to return and nappies to procure. I apologized and handed Aevum a Sweep ‘n Suds dalmatica, knowing it too large for the wee tot, but they’d grown into it. She was gracious and stated she wasn’t upset in the slightest. That’s one wonderful mother!Anyroad, I mended the tabard that had some awful stain on it and tossed it in the pot and added a few drops of Zigo’s solvent because gods only knew what that stain was. Long after the coat dried upon the line, that swiving stain remained. Brunhild advised it was the fluid of a beast’s spine. Not to be confused with blood, mind you - but something completely different. And trickier, it seemed. He was find with the coat as it was and didn’t need a refund. Again, kind of a customer. And gods did he tip heavy; wouldn’t take nay for an answer.After the customers left, Badge and I settled downstairs to finish the breakfast we had started: he his pancakes and I my grilled sweetfish. There was a mighty debate about which was better, but it’s one of those pointless discussions with no true end. It was fun, though. Although talk shifted back toward his Grumpkin-demeanor; surely it wasn’t over sweetfish.Nay. He said I spoke in my sleep, uttering the name “Rho” when we last shared a bed. Badge was still Grumpking over that fact a few suns ago? Well, that opened a whole new tangent of talk - and I explained the in my dreams is not Alexander Rho Shimizu. Nay; two very different folk. And besides that, Rho is a figment of dreams. Dreams.Anyroad, it reminded me I’d purchased something that I had hoped would put him at ease of my slumbering with Red. A metallic set of smallclothes that came with clasp, lock, and key. He seemed aghast I would ever suggest such a thing. Offer anyone that control over another’s nethers. Nay. It wasn’t necessary; rather he’d trust my heart and gut to stay chaste. Aye. I threw the contraption in a drawer. He seemed confused as to why I’d ever purchase such a thing; well, that was easy: for him. To help soothe any fears he harbored. But, nay, my gesture was declined. Which was uplifting…as I’d prefer to sleep with naught on.Well, I suggested we nap. He looked like he hadn’t slept in suns; hells, he admitted to such. Or at least snuggle in bed. The morning was a stressful rush and I wouldn’t mind a bit of a cuddle. He declined the nap, so I opted instead to tend to my errands of the day. He followed me upstairs to discuss my errands. The Crimson’s bar was in need of alcohol and other bits. Badge offered to cater to her needs! I would, of course, have to run it by Red as it was his casino after all and I just tended bar from time to time.Well, that took care of my errands. Ha! And I was tired. So, once more asked if he’d like to lay with me. Aye. At least this time he said aye. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was “I missed you…”_{((OOC: session 9/27/22 in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A New Journal

Dearest New Journal,I got home from the Crimson late last night to find a gift from Bumpkin! It’s been a sennight for gifts; aye! It was you, new beloved journal! Right as I was about to run out of parchment space in the old one! And a bouquet of oldroses.And - to make it even better- he made it himself! How in the seven hells does one even bind a tome? I mean, it must needs be easier than I think since there are so many tomes everywhere. But this: my very own leather journal made by Bumpkin’s own hand. AND - your cover is spattered in all sorts of hues!! It’s as if my wardrobe vomited all over the cover! Just beautiful!Anyroad, there’s an entry before this - a first entry, penned by Badge to me. Looking forward to many more entries ahead!((The first entry reads as follows, in Bumpkin’s penmanship:))Sunshine.I know you keep a journal, and though I didn’t read it when i found it, I know from the wear and the tear that you keep it avidly. As such eventually you are bound to run out of paper I opted to take it upon myself to have this made for you. It is a rainbow, as are you. My sunshine after the rain.Anyway, I took it upon myself to write this first entry. It is to you, not merely to the journal. It’s not oft i put my thoughts to paper. So i pray this is as coherent as i mean it to be.The Day I started to fallDo you remember the day we went to the fireworks? I’d hope so. Tis the day I realized how important you are to me. Or, well, began to. It was the night after our trip to the cave, Gods you looked lovely in the glow from the mushrooms. But I had told you, that I would take you to see the fireworks. It may not have been a promise per say, but it felt like something Ii had to do. I got myself bundled, still in my pajamas, it was late and I intended to sleep upon my return you see, and since before i began staying at your house I slept most nights in the mists at the diner, I flew first to Costa Del Sol.They had been having their fireworks every hour on the hour, as anyone who tried to sleep in the blasted region could very well hear. I flew up above it, astride my cloud, mind, I wish I knew quite how he worked. I’ve had many a one-sided conversation with him about letting you ride him but… anyroad. I measured out a safe point to watch the fireworks. Didn’t need the lovely Zimmy getting blown out of the sky by a stray rocket. I’d never forgive myself….On to the important part, you, I flew to your house, aye, like a beacon to me even at this point, and I landed in your yard, I wonder if i woke you, as when you came out you were a tad disheveled. It mattered not, of course, you were lovely. I noted to myself you forgot your eye patch, a part of me was glad. Hiding away part of your face behind that thing, awful.I keep rambling. No focus. I flew you, up and over the glittering roofs of Ul’dah and across the sea to the spot I had pre-picked out, and I offered you treats, but…my foolhardy comment the day before had upset you. You refused the candy and opted just for the popcorn. I needs must watch my words betterThe Fireworks. Such an apt metaphor for you, you know. Bright, noisy and you bring joy to people’s lives. My life. I watched your face, more than the explosions, I saw them every hour on the hour after all. But you, the lights playing in your eyes, lighting you and your hair up something inside me, reacted. I felt a fluttering you see at that instant, you see. Deep inside myself.That’s when it started for me, you know.But all things come to an end, you had a headache, your eye, the lights, the noise. So I took you home. And bid you goodbye.I’m happy we’re together. You make me so. And I hope that as we grow closer, this gets filled with stories upon stories upon stories of our happiness. And adventures.With the Greatest of Affection,
Your Bumpkin_{((OOC: session 9/26/22 in Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}
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Tied up in knots

Dear Journal,I received a hail from Ume Shimizu to meet up at the estate in Shirogane. I figured it was important business, but nay - she had procured a gift! “Zimmothy,” she calls me. It’s hilarious. And will never understand why she came up with such. Anyroad, Red was there and it was a beautiful sunny day outside, so we stayed out on the lawn.

The wee box was handed over and the gift: for no other reason but adoration and friendship. Ah, “Just Because” makes the best gifts; hm? It was a glorious silken millioncorn yellow ribbon for my hair. And she trussed my locks up tight in a perfect little bow! I was told it was adorable by both her and Red, but had to confirm such myself by spying a reflection in the window.Completely adorable. And oh-so-girly. Or, as Ume said: ladylike. Gods. Me? A lady? Nay. A mummer of one, mayhap. Ume already had two or three ribbons in her collection before procuring me my own.As Alex smiled at us in the sunlight, I smirked up at him…and promptly asked Ume where Alex’s bow was. Gods, how she smirked back and ran out the yard and up the stairs to the market in search of another. Oh how he chortled, knowing full well his head was doomed any moment. And in an instant, she returned: his glowing bride beaming and waving around a dalamud red ribbon.With skilled practice, she somehow secured the ribboned bow atop Red’s head. What a sport; all chuckles and blowing kisses to his wife. But that didn’t last long as he suddenly leapt out of the yard and scampered up the sidewalk’s stairs; the red bow bobbing atop his head.Ume and I wondered a moment what he was up, but he quickly returned; a pink ribbon in his hand, which he traded to his wife for a kiss. Just as they locked lips, it began to rain and Red and I ran for the gazebo as Ume ran within the estate to check on Sasha.

While safe from the rain, my gussied-up boss paid me my wages for the sennight’s estate cleaning…but the breeze kicked up and threatened to tear the bows from our heads, so we went inside. Dry. Warm. And…a Triad board tempting us.The queries that came out of the draws were something to behold. Firstly, it led to discussions of voyeurs and second was about favored cuisine and dinner. But we strayed back the conversation of dreamscapes and tinctures. And the arse won a hand by recounting a shared dream of ours; gods, I was so distracted I could hardly breathe.

Striple Triad had begun. We’d both lost our boots. Then he his coat. But I lost my own the next round. In a mighty drop of the porxie card, he lost the next hand - and his pants. Ume snortlaughed from the stairwell. She was spying on our game? Ha! She should join us sometime. Anyroad, there he stood in undershirt, gloves, and smallclothes - and a red bow atop his head.Not for long. I won again and demanded his gloves. He cupped my chin with a soft hand, setting my belly aflame before he dropped it suddenly and dealt another round of cards. Straight into another draw.His query? What was my favored quality of Badge. Easy: the fact that he’s so thoughtful. If I’m hungry, he cooks. Tired? He carries me to bed. Cold: he cuddles me. If I need a bath, he draws it. No need is unmet. And I nary have to ask. He just…does. As Red put it: he’s very considerate.Onward to another round…which I promptly lost and off went my trousers. I was left in naught but my smallclothes, a pair of rings, and the bow. Graciously, he counted the rings as an article of attire. ONWARD! Again, straight into a draw and a query. I had captured his last card, so the question was mine to ask! I asked his favored smell. It all depends on his mood…other than the scent betwixt a woman’ thighs - it was the smell of a rainy day.Ever onward, the next hand was brutal. All kinds of cards smacking the table, flipping, and it ended in - you guessed it - a draw. He asked my lewdest fantasy. I will not repeat it here. But by the gods, did it make me blush to blurt it aloud. That quickly led to more conversations of our recent bonding being able to sense the emotions and thoughts of one another. The magic comes and goes, but it’s only when we’re near. And gods, the emotions and thoughts…Must’ve distracted him something fierce because he lost the last round. And his smallclothes! VICTORY! He still wore the bow, and knowing how much he enjoyed a gamble, I had a proposition:One more game. I lose? He picks his reward. I win? I dictate where that bow is worn for the entirety of the day. An accord was met and the Triad game began. I, of course, won. And immediately demanded he remove the bow from his hair, affix it elsewhere, and find his wife to tug on that ribbon. I hurriedly got dressed and took my leave so the lovebirds could enjoy the rest of the evening together.An unexpected and wonderful way to end the day._{((OOC: session 9/24/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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VIP Treatment at the Amaurot

Dearest Journal,Ya know how much I love the Amaurot Hostelry and its staff. Well, I took Red’s advice and invested in a venue I love to support! Not only did I drop 5,000,000 gil but I got to spend some much-needed time with friends. AND they’re gonna name a swiving drink after me! Or something like that. I’ll leave it up to the staff!Before I exchanged the gil, we were waiting for Eos to show up. I shoved a sackful of prunes at Altanai; I know she doesn’t eat them often, but mayhap she just didn’t keep them on stock. Now: no more excuses. Eat. The. Prunes; three a sun!We went inside - I hate the cold of Empyreum - and Altanai had gone had a hot tub and hearth installed. Warm. Overly-warm. Almost as if we were in the Goblet, but steamier. It was perfect. I can’t express how happy I am she’s found a good fit with friends. We spoke of old friends while we continued to wait.Suddenly, in walked Eos - the proprietor of the Amaurot and the person we’d been waiting for. They would be the one to take my gil and make this whole arrangement official! I’d been going to the hostelry off and on for the past seven moons and I cannot tell you how accepted I felt feel. Even if they are a little mad.We spoke of the terms of the donation: that it was a one-time expectation, but once per moon I’d be provided a free beverage, not to mention have one named after me, and could visit once a moon for a free reading or healing session. I know the Amaurot’s aetheric healing sessions in the past have been rather healing, so this was a massive boon for me!We caught up for a few moments more before Eos and my linkpearls sounded at the same time. They had an appointment to keep and I had diapers to tend to. We left Altanai soaking in her steamy room.I must needs go back anon for the company and the cubus! And to try the new libation!PS - I learned Eos has children! Three of them! Or was it four? Shite._{((OOC: session 9/23/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Smoke, Sandwiches, and Suds

Dear Journal,Yesterday, I tended to Moon’s new estate in Ishgard. The man smelled heavily of alcohol, cologne, and smoke. But such is Tacitus Moon: a man of lavish lifestyle and grand tastes. Anyroad, after catching up with him for about a bell and drafting up a new contract with the larger estate, I found my way to Badge’s abode where he was cooking up a meal.His nostrils twitched as I walked nearby. He most certainly smelled the liquor Moon and I had shared. Then he said he smelled the smoke of Somnus and had the nerve to ask if I partook of any of the illicit substance. I snortlaughed.By the gods. Nay. I simply drank with the viera. What he did in his free-time was none of my concern. And besides, Moon had told me it was naught more than a special blend of herbs. He mentioned naught of Somnus. Well, Badge was convinced it’s what it was - said the old smoker’s lounge at the old House of Virtue reeked of the stuff. Mayhap that’s how Moon could afford such a lavish lifestyle after all? I would make it a point not to inquire. The smell must’ve lingered in that hazy downstairs bar and permeated my hair and clothing. Not to mention Moon did pick up me and over a counter after I admonished him for not having any Lalafellin stools in the entire place.Badge asked me to bathe before we’d eat lunch - wash the smell of Moon and his estate off my flesh. I insisted he join me and we do both: bathe and dine at the same time. His tub was large enough for it, even if it did have gil at the bottom to tickle the toes and catch the candlelight.Bumpkin brought his sandwiches with him to the bath and we turned into prunes as we dined and talked. At least the tensions of the past few suns seems to have waned. He sniffed me again, before I’d had a chance to work any soap into a lather. And he mumbled I reeked of Thavnairian cologne still. I shrugged and pushed out a fart, cackling as the bubbles broke the surface. Cologne-no-more! That certainly broke the wind mood that was brewing. He’d somehow procured a bottle of wine and two glasses: mayhap the bath was a ploy all along? Sandwiches, soaks, talk of the sea, and wine? Aye; a good afternoon. Now I stunk of cheese and wine and Badge’s soaps and oils. Much more pleasing to the senses.We opted to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening sitting cozy near the hearth reading the raunchiest tome he could find in that vast bookcase. It was labeled “Black and White Makes Red.” Wasn’t the lewdest of tomes I’d heard, but it led to a mood. The cadence of his voice, the warmth of the flames, and the wine in my veins had me slumbering and snoring hard upon that couch. I didn’t wake until long after the sun had set, snuggled up against Bumpkin on the couch; he didn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his breath was such I knew he slept. So we slumbered there until morning.He woke up in a bit of a mood as he grumbled that I had mentioned “Rho” in my sleep. I assume he thought I dreamt of Alex. I didn’t correct him that it was another man. Aye, he looked similar to Red, but older. And those swiving vivid green eyes…and we were making out. Gods. Must’ve been the wine from the night before. I most certainly didn’t share any of those details with Badge. Or Red…only you, beloved Journal._{((OOC: session 9/22/22 & 9/23/22 in Discord))}

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The Suds, Red, and Rho

Dearest Journal,Needless to say, things betwixt Badge and I were a bit tense through breakfast but lightened while we ate, and moreso as we ascended the stairs to open the ‘Suds doors to the public for the bell. Conversation was curt: how’d you sleep, how’s the U-ACT support and stool sales going, ever find the missing 350,000 gil? Blah blah blah. Iona’d taken over for Razvigor and we still can’t manage to balance the ledgers. Mayhap Hep took it with her when she returned to her mother’s side? After the ordeal she endured? Gil well-spent. But at least she could have taken it from my own coffers and not the U-ACT Initiative’s.Then it shifted to hues of dye that I love and could imagine the rest of the world wearing, too. Far to often folks be happy in one hue: soot black. Or, dare I write it: dalamud red. Shite, people! Vomit out some shades! Proudly wear that celeste green or sunset orange! Augh! I love ‘em all. Well, mayhap not that bright pink…but Mara wears that shade well.Badge did a lot of staring at the fishtanks. He must be more enamored with the Fightin’ Finns than myself. Or mayhap he was still hurting over our spat last night. I’m just trying to pretend it never happened. Well, except his injuries incurred in whatever scuffle he was in before entering my abode. So, I insisted he visit a chirurgeon. Or mayhap Emet-Selch at the Hostelry for an aether reading. But nay, he insisted he was well.

As we waited for a customer to walk through the doors the silence was as thick as archon loaf. And just as bitter. I stirred the water in the launderpot and he continued to stare at the fish and sniffle. I pestered him about his allergies until finally he admitted he’d been crying. Over his injuries? Nay. Over our spat…Even though the night ended in our embrace, he pointed out that we were still distant this morning.I offered him a kerchief. He declined and rubbed his face on his sleeve. I could launder that later…And aye, we would need some time to mend. I said and did some harsh things. He simply poured out his heart. And I denied him. Not to mention the Netherlies and frozen chunks of ale...He kept turning his gaze back to the swiving aquariums. How could we have a decent conversation if he weren’t going to make eye contact. Even with no customers in the Suds, he refused to turn and have a conversation. I may have screamed his name…and just as “Dadaji” echoed off the walls, the doors opened and in walked a hyur carrying a small bundle in her arms. It wasn’t laundry; nay, it appeared to be an infant moogle?I curtly explained we were closed, offered assistance anon, and hurriedly locked the doors behind them. A bell had come and gone. The Suds was customerless for the sun and Badge and I had unfinished conversation. I feel bad for having turned away a woman and - her? - child. But godsdamnit, we had to talk.It came up again. Badge’s discomfort lay in the fact that Red and I sleep together share a bed and that I kick Badge out of the house to do so. He turned to stare at my copperfish yet again. I tore off my apron, threw it to the floor, and stomped downstairs to the icebox to eat every swiving sweet thing within I could find.

He found me in the kitchenette loft, rolanberries puffing out my cheeks as a nutkin and apologized. I demanded he continue to stare at the fish if he so desired…since he apparently didn’t want me to read his expression while we spoke.He apologized again and acknowledged it wasn’t his place to ask us to stop our traditions. I offered that he join us in our slumber parties. Nay. An immediate nay - he’d be intruding and we’d not act our natural selves in his presence. I’ll never ask him again.Anyroad, I quickly shifted topics back to hues. He looked well in that crimson shirt…he accused me of “just saying that,” as he turned and sat (once more away from me!) on the stairs. I…I may have accused him of not trusting me. With my compliments. Or with Alex. Then he told me again that he’d once been in a relationship where loving more than one partner was acceptable and it didn’t work for him. I reminded him that although Ume and Alex may practice such, I do not. And reminded him, too, that Red was the one who made sure Badge and I were pushed together that fateful eve two sennight ago. If I weren’t with Bumpkin, I would most assuredly rut Alexander- or hells, Ume! But I wasn’t. And I wouldn’t. And he was very respectful and happy for the relationship that Badge and I were fostering.He acquiesced. And I relaxed my white-knuckle grip on the handrails I didn’t know I had been holding. I sighed and sat my arse behind him on the stairs, kissed the back of his head, and again apologized. For last evening and the distance this morning.I asked if it would help if he and Red spoke about his fears. Nay. But Bumpkin said I could feel free to share all with Alex, as he knew we were close and did share nearly everything.We’d be okay. As he said, every relationship has ups and downs.Conversation lingered to my own misadventures; that time in the cave with Mr. Moon, where I earned these damnable scars across my face. He still wished I had called upon him for help before we entered - as well as when I returned home nearly eaten and bloodied. While he spoke, he reached down and removed my shoes. Gods, the freedom of wriggling toes! I snuggled in tight behind him as he rubbed my kneecaps, smooshing my body against his back as he sat on the stairs. He asked questions here and there about the cave, Moon, my uncle…and that monster. Oh, how I felt him bristle at the mention of the thing that marred my face and eye. I soothed him, running my hands through his hair and reminded him it was dead. Moon had made sure of it. And Red had charged in later to clear the place out yet again.Grinly’s collar was still missing. Supposedly some key to a map of treasure, if you believe the words of ruffians and pirates. But you know what’s better than missing collars and possible chests full of gil?All that speak of near-death experiences and our close bodies led to some noon-time loving. And that led to a nap; well, Badge napped while I tended to some laundry upstairs. Not too long afteward there was a buzzing of my linkpearl and it was Alex. I spoke in whispers so as not to wake Badge, but conversation was of the Crimson and the inventory of items to have on stock. Milk and pineapple juice for Forgal, of course. And we needed more rolanberries. Then…then he asked if everything was alright.My voice must’ve betrayed me some from last night’s argument.Suddenly, there came a rapping on my door. And there he was, Red, all gussied up in a culinarian’s apron and casual attire. “Care to talk about it?” he asked sporting a warm smile.Gods. Yes. Not to mention that apron could use some of my tender loving care. And remember our blood magics bonding? It worked. I could sense his concern, despite that comforting smile. He said I sounded as if my heart were a bruised peach.Shite, can’t hide shite from the man. We stepped outside and wandered to the apartment just down the cobblestones; I made him promise not to get mad, and I let him hear it all. All of it. My guilt, shame, anger, frustration, and admiration. Every onze that was within my guts I let him hear. And asked him promise that he not teach me anymore Whalathee ways that would harm someone. Rather, he compromised and suggested I should learn to better control my anger than to lash out. That such spells may be needed in the future; even if for my own defense. Godsdamned scars on my face.Hearts and minds cleared, advice learned, and whatever he was baking was sure to be on the midst of burning - he gave me a brief kiss and teleported away. Just like that. Not before an “I will always love you,” slipped from his mind into my own. Before I could respond, he was gone. I wonder if he knew I heard his thoughts at that moment.I stood alone, smiling at the glaring walls of the Stool Shed, and relit the candles around my stuffed goblin shrine of Jay Sit. Suddenly, there was a voice behind me…“You’re playing a dangerous game, Zimmy. And here I thought Alex was the gambler” he said.I spun around, raising my fists upward as Zototo had taught me, but no one was there. But that voice? It sent chills down my spine. It was gritty. Rho. The green-eyed man from my dreams. The one still hidden from the dreamscape of Alex. How was that possible? My imagination must needs be overactive.Gods, that warning…I blew out the candles and quickly made my way back to the Suds and busied myself once more at the launderpot._{((OOC: session 9/20/22-9/22/22 in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Lover's Spat

Dear Journal,Well, Badge and I had our first fight.I was out shopping on the Avenue and he hailed me on my linkpearl from the Suds. He had gotta a little “banged up” on a mission and had drawn himself a bath. His tone sounded off, but he said naught was amiss and urged I continue my errands. We prattled on for a bit until he began to snore. In my bathwater. I screamed at him to wake up. I knew he’d received the Blessing and could breathe beneath the water…so drowning wasn’t a concern. Just my floors. Could you imagine the slick, sudsy mess he’d make flailing awake or tossing in his sleep beneath the waterline?Anyroad, I insisted he end his soak and crawl into bed and I would be there anon. The groan he made, Journal – the groan of pain. Pain. When is Bumpkin ever physically in pain? Nay. He was more than just a little banged up. I rushed as quickly as I could back to the estate, foregoing my plans to shop for soaps and solvents. I found him groaning and naked on the bathroom floor.A little banged up? Nay. He was as bruised as a rotten mirror apple. Floors be damned. Bumpkin was in need! I scrambled to the dresser in search of my blue stone from Marvin. The Whalathee stone! It wasn’t there! It took a few moments more, but I found it upstairs on my desk under some parchment. Shite. Anyroad, I repeated the song taught to Red and I by the Moogle mummers and marveled as his gaze unclouded a smidge - he said the pain had subsided a little. The magic of the Whalathee ways and whatever the shite that spell was called – it had worked! I was beaming! As was he.Look at me. Learning how to cast shite! I digress - I am here to write of our fight. And that blasted stone…Once we got him to the bed, he insisted I resume my shopping duties. Seven hells, I wasn’t about to leave him! So I settled in behind him and began to rub those kinks out of his shoulder and back muscles. And gods, this is where things got tricky. Words. They’re easy to muck up, hm?I asked him what had occurred and led to his battered state.He’d gotten himself into a “sordid affair.”I thought he’d meant he’d rutted another.Nay, and he twisted his body around to face mine and blurted out he’d never do such because he “loved” me far too much.Love. The L-word. Not even officially dating for two sennight and he’s thrust that word into conversation. I mean. I lusted after the man, sure. But love? I gave him a piece of my mind. It was far too soon to be thinking of such things. He apologized and admitted he still felt such feelings…and mayhap expressed them too quickly…but still felt it!I told him I wasn’t there yet…and he insisted he’d win my heart one day. Then he stood to get dressed. In his beaten and exhausted condition? My Song o’the Good King Moogle Mog hadn’t healed him that much. Nay! I insisted he sit back down. Better yet: lay down and slumber.Thankfully he sat and listened to the words I rambled on. How I loved Alex deeply but differently…but had known him for nearly a summer. And had loved Zototo - although I’d never said it aloud and even that had taken moons to fester. Did I like and lust after Babaji Dadaji? Aye…But love? Nay. The kind of love he speaks? Not yet. Gods knows if ever? One could hope, but it needed time to grow. He acknowledged my need for time and didn’t seem to mind the wait.Conversation took a sudden shift back the dealings that battered him up and if he’d be going out for anymore misadventures anon. He asked if his stepping away from such activities would make me happy. Gods, Journal, you think I’d been drinking with my reactions. It – it angered me. What would make me happy is for him to keep doing what makes him happy. Especially if love were ever to be a thing betwixt us. A person must needs be themselves. Never a mummery of a relationship. Or altering who they be for another. If I were to ask him to stop adventuring knowing ceasing such things would crush his spirit - what sort of love would that be? Asking someone to change who they be? Nay.And to make matters stickier? He had gone off on that mission because he was in a tizzy over something he wouldn’t share. Secrets! Ale. We needed ale. It always loosened lips and plied tongues. I poured us two tankards and resumed our conversation on the edge of the bed.It worked. The truth came out.Badge got his smallclothes in a wad over the fact that I asked him not to stay at the Suds on the evenings when Red and I slumbered together. He felt as if I was kicking him out and replacing him with Alexander Shimizu. Oh gods. The blood boiled over then. I remember screeching that I’d known Red far longer than I’d known Badge. That we’d slumbered together far longer and it was a fun tradition of our friendship of Triad and shenanigans and dreams. If he didn’t like sleeping other places, then Red and I could take our slumber parties to his Shirogane apartment and Badge could have the Suds’ bed all to himself. And Alex had even offered to cancel our last get-together to be sensitive to Bumpkin and I and our budding relationship. Never! NEVER FOREVER!It wasn’t the bed. It was my missing body from it that troubled him and kept him from sleeping. It wasn’t his intent to stop Red and I from our traditions. And he said his feelings were dumb. Feelings aren’t dumb. They’re valid. And they’re his. What’s dumb was the fact that he gone and got himself up and entangled in some battle that beat him to the seven hells and back. Badge stood up and once more began to pull his smallclothes and trousers up. The man intended to leave? In the midst of this conversation? If I remember his words correctly, he was leaving because now I proclaimed his feelings were kicking me out of my own house and into the bowels of Shirogane. I can’t even – I threatened that if he continued to get dressed, I’d freeze him where he stood. I offered to commission a mammet-likeness of myself that he could snuggle with on the nights I was with Alex. Nay. He could slumber with Nibbles. Nay. And the man continued to get dressed.I’m not proud of my next moments: I chugged my ale, squeezed my Whalathe stone, and focused on the icy tundras where Red had slayed that yeti in front of my very eyes. Oh, the pressure that built up in my gullet, Journal. It was cold and I expelled such a belch of froth and ice and chunks of ale - all of which hurled at Bumpkin as he still tried to don his attire. A few chunks hit him in the arm, but he fell to his arse as he reacted and dodged the bulk of it.Shite. What had I done?I hurled the tankard and ran to his side to once more sing the Moogle song, but he growled that he was fine. Fine. I backed away and plopped the blue stone on the table. I couldn’t be trusted with such…such power. He got up, walked over, and slid the stone in front of me…insisted he was making things worse but the stone should remain with me. I didn’t respond - just picked up that damned thing and walked to my nightstand tucking it and its Netherlies spell safely inside.I apologized. Empty words, I know, since my actions were utter shite. And I insisted he wasn’t kicking me out of the house. He was welcome to my bed. Mayhap the scent of my pillow would help him sleep.We had more ale. And gods…how he makes my blood boil. I was upset. He was hurt. But I was also…lustier than them rutting buffalo near the Bloodshores. And naught soothes misunderstandings and sore feelings better than love lust?So, our first fight ended well, I’d say. Although I’d rather we not fought at all…One hells of a misunderstanding and misspoken words and ill-made choices. Shite._{((OOC: session 9/19/22 in discord))}ss

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The Cupcake Estate

Dear Journal,Today I spent a good bell walking around Weavy and Broc’s estate, learning the ropes and the individual cleaning needs of their abode. Did you know she’s named her cat Archon Loaf? Who would do that? I remember that tasteless bread from Old Sharlayan so many moons ago, and it was utter shite. I mean, the cat is sort of square and plump as a freshly baked loaf? Mayhap that was her reason? Gods, I hope it didn’t come out of it’s mother looking as such. Could you imagine the pain?

Anyroad, their estate! There was a rather large portrait of Horchifont hanging on the wall. So many folks honored that man. I remember Lith had one in his room as well. Turns out that Weavy had a crush on him. Yep, that totally sounds like Lith. Those two should get together…hells, we should all get together for wine…I also learned that Weavy can’t cook for shite either. Ah, the perks of being with men who do, hm? She said Broc is quite the accomplished chef.I was expected to every other sennight clean the two main floors of the estate, dust, water the plants, and skim the pond. The bed linens and laundry would be done each sennight, ro as needed.Down in the basement is this beautiful glowing crystal tree, but it’s got some tie to Weavy’s aether. With a snap of her fingers, it emitted some gods-awful crooning and wailing. Lights flickered and I was worried it’d wake the sleeping bairns above. Nay; the thoughtful mother of two had them tucked away safely behind some magical sound barrier. I’m never, ever, ever to tend to or touch the crystalline tree. I can abide by that…I was advised to be careful in the basement as there was a lot of magic in use. Or not in use and just lying around. Shite. Also, I was instructed not to touch the bookshelves in her private room. Also, don’t touch the stack of books in the basement as she was in the midst of research. I asked what she was researching.I will never forget the moment. Or her answer: “The world is beautiful. And I want to see it flourish,” she said, as she pointed a finger at the grass-covered flooring and a closed flower bud opened as if she were the coming dawn. Someone saw terror-inducing doing something so tender…Anyroad, Weavy would tend to the enchanted floors of the basement herself. They were covered in flowers and grass, just as the Shimizu household. I wondered if she, too, tended the water crystals as Red did.

There was a marvelous green wing tacked into a shadowbox frame on the wall. As I marveled at it’s glistening beauty and was reminded of my best friend’s matching, glowing scar - she told me that it was not a purchased collectible. Rather, she herself: Weavy Cupcake, had torn the wing right off of the primal Shinryu. Smells like yak shite to me. Or mayhap just the dirty nappies of her bairns? Pfft. Weavy is powerful and terrifying, but to tear the wing off of a primal? Nay. I smiled and let her have her fib, though.She and her husband had desks side-by-side along a beautiful rainbow fish of great proportions. I would be tasked with keeping the desks tidy: not touching or moving anything on Broc’s but dusting around it all instead. But Weavy’s? I could manipulate all items except for the cake. Easy enough.

That fish? It’s name is Hugh and apparently cost a couple of million gil. By the gods: could you imagine gil that could buy a small estate on a creature that lives in an aquarium? I wonder what’s so special about Hugh. Mayhap he’s magical, too?A quick tour back upstairs brought us to her personal room. There was a massive throne - was it made of ice? The bookshelves I was not to touch. An art area with easel and paints. And…a giant blob of jam on a mat in the middle of the room. Apparently, part of her life magics was manifesting this jam into a massive jam? It wobbled a bit as we walked around the room, but I didn’t pay it much mind. She and her experiments.And that was the bell. I would be by to clean anon, but today? The walkthrough. It was nice to see Weavy so comfortable and casual and…approachable._{((OOC: session 9/19/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Graeskar, his coat, and a candied fence

Dearest Journal,Oi! More of yesterday I forgot to write about! I’ve a new client!! I spoke with the other barkeep and chirurgeon at House of Virtue, Graeskar Faewether himself. He hailed me on my linkpearl, although I didn’t leave him the information to reach me. Turns out he’d found a flyer of sorts at the House of Virtue - more like an advertisement for my cleaning services. I wonder if Bumpkin at anything to do with such?Anyroad, turns out one of my boyfriend’s kiddos hurled their meal all over the mighty giant after trying to drink the entire eight shots of the Kamikaze Challenge in one tankard. Sounds like something Badge’s kids would do. I wonder who it was. Weavy? Mayhap. And may I add that Grae’s favored coat was of the most pristine of white hues? Well, until last eve’s vomiting episode.We deemed to meet at the Adventurer’s Guild in Ul’dah and I’d assess the damage before agreeing to the job. I made sure he’d not pay heed to my attire as I was already dressed for my shift at the CrimsonThe connection was severed and I made my was as quickly as my legs would carry me through Goblet to the heart of Ul’dah. Gods, he was massive sitting on the small chairs around the tables. How could I miss such a hulking mass? But it took a few scans of the place before I saw him flapping his arms in the air.He had the coat in a sack and I quickly assessed the damage. Aye, something we could tend to before I had to leave for the casino. He followed me back to the Suds - well, he beat me to it, opting to travel via the aether plaza rather than his own two feet. Anyroad, I found him gazing at the neighbor’s monstrous gingerbread house. He inquired if I’d ever wanted to just take a bit out off it. But course I wanted to snack on it; assuming it were real.But that reminded me of my manners and I offered the Roe tea and snacks. Down into the bowels of the Suds we went and the first thing he blurted out upon rounding the stairs was that my bed was glaring at guests the second they stepped into view. That it was an odd sort of thing to broadcast one’s bedroom. I’d never thought of it as such, but seeing as I did often have Suds guests downstairs to change, agreed that I mayhap would have a wall constructed anon.

Laden with tea cups, we headed back upstairs to tend to his coat. It was large enough to act as a tent and a damned fine one at that if it weren’t coated in liquor and vomit. It’s white woolen fibers stained in browns and bile. I shoved the whole swiving thing into the launder pot and sprinkled in a heavy dropping of solvents and soaps.While we waited for it to properly bubble and saturate, Graeskar regaled me with tales of fighting - did you know, Journal, that my Bumpkin recently punched Grae square in the smallfruit? He was limping for a sennight! I wonder what he did to deserve that ‘cause surely Badge wouldn’t do such an untoward thing undeservedly?We sat and talked for a while while I occasionally stirred the brewing launderpot until it was time to fetch the thing out. Gods, did I mention how big it was? I had to use my clockwork cart to transport the beastly mass outside and it took all my strength to hang it upon the laundry line. Thank the gods the weather was fair. Should be dry in no time.

Gigantic Graeskar, perched like a dainty flower upon my small glade stool. I daresay he nary made any fast movements - likely in fear of crushing my furnishings. And I don’t know how my dainty teacup didn’t get mauled in that massive hand. I’m sure being a chirurgeon and having two Lalafellin partners must lend itself to a delicate touch. Anyroad, we opted to play a game to pass the time. And nay, not my beloved Triad. The old game of Truth or Dare with a set of dice. Whoever rolled the lowest must choose to answer a truth or accept a dare!The first roll? Graeskar lost and I inquired what he to deserve being punch in the prunes by Bumpkin. Just called Badge old…and mayhap some sort of idle threat. Well, he was old. Must’ve been the threat? Anyroad, we rolled again! I lost and took the path of truth as well!He wanted to know how Badge and I had even begun our relationship as Bumpkin didn’t appear the romantic type one bit. Well, I shoved my finger in his big ol’ face and corrected him. Fireworks? A camp out in a cave? The dinners at the Sundown? But in all truth? Our pairing was due to Weavy and Alex: Weavy giving me the courage to go and talk to Badge and Alex and his rigged-coin toss which led Bumpkin to my bed! A swiving pair of matchmakers!After some further chatter about love and partners and romance, I excused myself to check on his coat. As predicted, it had dried quickly and I draped it along the Suds’ counter for his inspection. Even though there was still some minor staining, he was happy. The coat was mostly good-as-new. I was able to fold the massive cloth into a cubed parcel, tied with a long strand of turquoise ribbon, and was paid my 25 gil. I had to explain, yet again, that tips were not accepted at Sweep and Suds. I insisted instead that any gil he had intended as a tip be spent on his lovely partners. He agreed…and eyes once more drifted to gaze upon the neighbors house outside my side window…There’d be no denying it: we had to go try to snag a piece of the fence post. I’d seen Weavy uproot one and wander away, but never asked her if it was in fact edible. We ran outside and hurried across the cobblestones. As he stared over the fenceline, I stuck my tongue out onto the white creamy fencepost. It didn’t taste sweet…mayhap it wasn’t real?

Graeskar tore off a chunk and shoved it in his mouth, giving it a testing chew. He opined it had gone stale in the desert heat and sun but was, in fact, edible. Mayhap one day we’d stumble across a newly-constructed house and could test that theory another day. But for now? I had to head to the Crimson for work.We said our goodbyes with plans to meet in the future over another gingerbread house and endless rounds of Truth or Dare…Another satisfied customer!_{((OOC: session 9/18/22 in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Blood Magic and Bonding

Dear Journal,It was quite a long sun indeed! It started bright and early at the Crimson, meeting Red there at his behest. He’d been working on his pageantry and I was to be given a private show of his choice of words and finesse. I couldn’t find the difference in verbiage, but he did alter the orchestrion rolls that play as the evening goes on at the casino. And the drama builds and swells to a crescendo.Speaking of drama, we nestled into our usual game of Triple Triad. The game ended in a draw, but I had captured the last card and won a query! What was his favorite way of securing more Triple Triad cards. Was it purchasing them from vendors or fighting other players for them. He enjoyed the toe-to-toe matches against foes to build his deck. Aye. The thrill of the hunt! Likely why we played so often.We switched from Triad to a hand of the Crimon’s Poker! He kicked my arse with his pair of threes versus my nine high. And then after my loss, his true motive shined through with a smirk and a change of music: with each loss I incurred, I’d remove an article of clothing. But if he lost even just one hand of poker against me, he’d shed all of his attire at once! What a wonderful bargain! Aye! I accepted immediately!Gods, the tension as he slowly drew each card. I had three sixes in my hand…and he? Two sevens! He opted to redraw several cards in the hopes of beating my hefty hand of sixes. Alas - well, not alas - much to my happiness, his redraws were worse. A pair of sevens. The lucky number of the Crimson…beat by my several sixes!He was suddenly surrounded by golden light, swirling around him and beams of light and fire rained down from the ceiling! It was loud and terrifying! And my beloved Red lay on the ground unmoving. I hadn’t brought my blue stone of the Whalathees and couldn’t heal whatever ailment afflicted him…and just before I began to wail and panic, he sat up, grinning like an idiot.That - THAT is what he intended for me to experience this morning. Anytime the Crimson loses after he charges up his golden aether outfit, and the Fates fail the house, he’ll fall in a blast of crimson and golden glory. Swiving terrifying, but now I understood it to be naught more than a dramatic mummery. The brilliance! Alexander Shimizu truly should have been a bard.But enough stalling. The man had lost and we had an accord! I demanded he hold out his hand which he honored my request, and I peeled off one glove. He chuckled and peeled off the next before slowly removing his coat, boots, and leggings. Left in naught but his smallclothes there was a severe battle of eyebrow waggling betwixt the two of us before he offered me the honor of removing those myself.With a mighty pull, I dragged those things far down to his ankle withs a loud whoop and cackling! Strip Poker indeed is one hell of a way to start the sun! He changed the music to something soft and relaxing, wagging his arse as he bent toward the machine, before sitting gently on the couch. I took that opportunity to curl up and lay my head upon his bared thigh. Quite the pillow.We spoke of Cubus, and it’s delightful gelatinous deliciousness, and argued over the eyes being whipped cream or real eyes…before his mischievous hand reached over and began to stroke my knee. The arse! Did he remember I was ticklish there? He said he didn’t - feigned or playful or no? I’ll never know.While I was staring up at this chest and nostrils, the scar on his cheek was visible from even this downward angle. As I reached up to trace his jawline, he did the same and traced the blunt of my nose and marveled at my own scar from the Manderville bottle. He clapped his hands and the lighting changed, once more we were shadowed in its blue hue and our scars began to glow that odd shade of green. Then he awkwardly bent at the waist and we gently kissed.Well, hell. I sat upon the couch and leaned against his chest while he gently stroked my growing locks. Gods, it was still so short…but hopefully would grow out long enough. Just as I was about to mention what a comfort it was to feel his fingers tend to my hair, he said it first. I swear he lives within my head. He gave my hair a gentle tug - and by the gods did it ignite a hunger within me.The hunger of his own heated appetite was shoved into my head. Were were sharing thoughts now? I leaned up and whispered into his ear the vision that sprung into my own head, one I thought of his making…and he acknowledged he’d just had that very thought. Now how in the seven hells were his thoughts bleeding into my own? Was it the tinctures? The magic of the vials? All I know is he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. But - Badge? I must needs resist. And was grateful we at least had the dreaming tinctures to share each others company and flesh…well, dream flesh; hm? Speaking of dreams, I mentioned I’d seen that green-eyed figure, Rho, again in mine. Alex still stated it was naught more than an imagining, but gods, he seemed imposing and a bit…scary. Although in this dream? He and I were best friends, off to save the world. And Rho kissed my forehead rather than my lips. Although the I that I was in the dream wasn’t the I that I am. Oh, that makes no sense. But seven hells his eyes beamed green like our scars.Red softly nudged me aside and I slid off his thigh onto the couch next to him and he stood and wandered to fetch something from his pack. He returned with a grin, carrying three vials, a dagger, and that odd red crystal from before. He had purchased some lucid dreaming tinctures from Eos. Or was it Azem? Are they one and the same? Whichever - it was from the Hostelry. Well, the tinctures were meant to bring forth dreams, or some such. Red asked for my hand once more and I figured he’d be pricking my finger. Nay. It would be a bit more this time. He drew the dagger across the width of his palm with a soft hiss sliping betwixt his lips, spilling blood drops atop the crystal and aiming the drips into each vial. I counted…seven to each. Then it was my turn. I insisted he do the deed…which he did - quickly slicing the blade across my tiny palm. And, aye, I did whelp! But I squished a fist and held the pooling palm of blood over the crystal and each vial received seven plops of my life’s blood.After corking up the vials and muttering some incantation, he reached his palm out to mine and asked that I mash my own bloodied hand against his. We clasped our fingers together, and rather than gaze into his blue eyes, he asked I turn toward the crystal and focus me aether on it - much like I do when attuning to a crystal when we visit a new city.I closed my eyes, the orchestrion roll’s music faded as all I could hear now was the beating of my own pulse pounding in my ears, felt the warmth of his hand in mine, our mingled blood dripping down my wrist and forearm. What I didn’t see, he later explained to me: the crystal hovered and glowed as we both focused on aether into it, a wash of crimson energy flooded over the both of us, and the vials took on that hue as well. When he spoke that it was done, I opened my eyes. All looked as normal, but gods, could I feel nerves beaming out of his gullet.The spell? The bonding with blood? The tinctures? All was meant to further strengthen our bond. His emotions were mine for the taking. Well - not taking. But for the knowing. All the time, as long as we were near? I could sense what he was feeling. Mayhap not what he was thinking, but most certainly what he was feeling. And just then? Nervous as a yak at the slaughterhouse…with a bit of love radiating from within.Turns out he’s only tried a similar bonding spell with Ume, but not one so intense since they already shared such an intense bond and her special – well, I can’t write about that. Promises, promises. He cast a quick bit of Physick on the both of us, sealing up our bleeding palms, but gods, I still held his hand.Bonded. Not as the ceremony at the Sanctum of the Twelve, but bonded by blood, blood magics, bottles, hearts, dreams, and desires. Best friends…and then some. He bent forward and gave me one hells of a deep kiss right on the lips. When we parted, I asked if he had any desire to partake of the newly-crafted tinctures even though it was just morning. I could be persuaded to…nap. Alas, family and errands did not allow such.The best part of the morning? He gathered up his clothing and teleported back to Shirogane in naught but his own flesh! The man was beginning to embrace nudity just as much as I. Pray, nobody was in the apartment’s landing or lobby when he arrived. Ha! Anyroad, he was off to ravage Ume awake. And I needed to find Badge before I imploded. Thank the gods he was still around to tend to my needs.Later that same evening after the Crimson closed it’s doors, I found Red already drawing a bath at the ‘Suds. I gotta tell ya, Journal, his thoughts? They flutter around in my head as tiny butterflies and they were warm and fuzzy insects. I announced as much and he seemed surprised: conversation shifted to how often I could grasp his broadcast thoughts and emotions when he couldn’t return the same. Turns out I could read his more than he could read mine. Ha! Mayhap my blood an aether were stronger than his own.I squeezed my eyes and broadcast my own thought to test as much. Alexander Shimizu knew exactly what I was thinking as he scooped me up into his arms and carried me down the stairs to our waiting bath tub scened with vanilla oils. “Oh, the perks to being only 35 ponze,” I had thought. And he said that thought of mine aloud. Indeed, he was inside my head, as I was in his. The bonding most certainly worked…As he scrubbed my back with the washcloth in the tub, I could sense a bit of a struggle within him: selfishness, a need to hold back, and a lustiness that mirrored my own. I didn’t say it, but was glad he too was admitting the need to abstain. I could only assume it, too, was out of respect for my Bumpkin. Again, we had found the loophole in the dreamscape.He hadn’t asked the Amaurot if this new tincture could be taken with libation in our belly. So, of course I wanted a drink! Two Zimzimteas coming right up! I got out of the bath (carefully so as not to repeat previous falls), poured two peach teas with a hefty helping of good old Ul’dahn whiskey, and found my Beloved Bloom already out of the bath himself, dripping water on the floor and brandishing a tincture vial. I handed him his beverage and we clinked tankards to these long slumber party evenings and to each other.He suggested we play more Striple Triad. But we were both already naked. Then he suggested we play Triad and the loser answers a query. But we already did that we a draw. Nay. I suggested the first to belch after chugging our Zimzimteas loses and must needs answer a query honestly.We had an accord and both took mighty quaffs of our respective tankards.Gods, the burp that escaped my belly was massive. His query? In a world of no jealousies, if I could have Badge and Alex in my bed at the same time, who would I want as a third member of the party. Well, not counting myself, I suppose. My response? Detective Dayfield.The booze hit hard and fast as my mood immediately went somber. The dead detective. Alex immediately suggested we drink to Dayfield’s memory! AYE! That lifted spirits. The Detective would have loved our drunkenness in his honor. We did chug away and Alex ripped a mighty belch into the air. I asked him if the Fates hadn’t brought myself, Altanai, and Nyx into his casino all them moons ago, would we still have met? Aye, he does think so. He was in need of a housekeeper. And it turned out we both attended the House of Virtue. So, aye, more than likely we would have been woven together.More Zimzimteas were made…I love this drink he designed! More chugging, more belching, and more queries and answers. I don’t remember them, though, as gods the hangover I had this morning shielded quite the bulk of the night’s inquiring details. I do know we wiggled into bed and I shoved a pillow betwixt our bared hips.And gods, the dreams we shared last evening? Let’s just say it was a bit surreal and I’ll not be looking at sea urchins quite the same._{((OOC: session 9/18/22-9/20/22 in FFXIV and Discord))}ssssssss

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Failure at House of Virtue

Dearest Journal,Well, it was an interesting evening, that’s for sure. Badge walked me to the House of Virtue since he had to tend bar and I opted to sling dice alongside Alex. Of all my gil given, I ended up losing 20,000. But, what’s far worse? I lost…face…so to speak.There’s a VIP room at the House that folks can rent for a hefty sum. And apparently the party the eve before in said room was…messy. I’ll just leave it at that. The pillows were crusted. Anyroad, Tori had asked if I would be able to tend to the room, for my regular fee, of course. Absolutely! I excused myself from the gambling tables and made myself useful with broom, bucket, and rags.Or thought I would. Nay. Nothing I did made a difference. The pillows? Still crunch. The floor? Stained here and there with - I don’t even want to know. She refused to pay me the gil until I was able to actually tend to the room properly. Can’t say I blame her for such. But - I do believe I’ve forever marred my reputation as a housekeep this night.I’ll try again anon!But all was not lost. There was Cubus and giant popotoes waiting for me in the icebox. Alex must’ve dropped them off betwixt Badge and I walking to House of Virtue and his own arrival.Needless to say, there’s no Cubus remaining…nothing soothes the soul like a little gelatinous comfort food. And a warm bath with Bumpkin - including bubbles provided by me own arse. Farfnir would be proud!_{((OOC: session 9/17/22 in FFXIV))}

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I Hired A Bodyguard!

Dear Journal,Several entries ago I wrote of placing an ad to hire someone to guard not only my estate, but myself…and Iona Dorne of the House of Virtue answered! We met atop that large ship at the Wolve’s Den and I found her sitting at a small table surrounded by libation and - gods, I hope those were olives? Anyroad, onward to the discussions! May I just say there are far too many stairs to get to the top of that blasted wooden ship? It would have been much easier to meet somewhere convenient like the Dawnstar - or - I don’t know - The ‘Suds? I digress…Turns out that Iona used to do some protective work prior to working at the House and was looking to earn some extra coin. I needed protecting apparently (poor Hephepli), and had recently come into some coin. A pair matched by Fate!As we sat there blabbing about backgrounds and needs, the thought struck me: why was Iona wearing red spectacles while it was dark outside - no sun to mar one’s eyes or a glare to obscure vision. So, I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked. Her grin - by the Twelve, it was nearly villainous!She said it was so she didn’t scare people. What? Why would – shite. She slightly pulled down the shaded spectacles and her eyes carried a reddened glow. Mayhap a reflection from the nearly brazier? Aye. Having super-reflective peekers could be considered scary to some, I reckon. Red as hot coals or a finely-polished ruby…I wonder if mine shine as such near a flame. I shall have to bring the candles to my mirror and try not to burn what little hair I have left, hm?

Anyroad, as part of her keeping me safe we opted to do it under the guise of she’s simply my retainer to sell Lalafellin step stools. Hephepli has gone and Razvigor is shite with figures…although I’m one to judge? But Iona is good at handling gil at the House’s gambling tables. So why not pass coin for the UACT Initiative and keep me safe, too? I did take a good fair bit of time explaining the UACT Initiative, Red’s large donation (which was subsequently stolen and why I’m needing Iona’s services), meeting the founder, and my many moons of involvement shuffling carpenters, stools, and gil around all for the cause of us shorter folk.Her protection. My gil. No other terms or conditions apply. A contract must needs be drawn up. As any formal business venture: it had to be official! Iona had a saddlebag nearby, from which she procured a roll of parchment, an ink bottle, and a golden chocobo feather quill. She wrote furiously upon the parchment, the quill-tip etching the terms of our accord. The price? That would be settled anon - and why let gil stand in the way betwixt the wellbeing of myself, my estate, and my gil? There’d also be no interest charged or deadlines for payment. Nay - I’d sign the contract as-is; and Iona being a trustworthy woman would fill in the monetary amount at a later date.As far as how best to reach Iona when she’s gone for the sun back to her residence or her shift at the House? Or pray, what if I hear a startling bump in the night? Or am in need of her protection if I am away from the ‘Suds? We exchanged linkpearl information.And to seal the deal? I insisted on the tried-and-true spit-shake, ejecting a mighty swath of saliva onto my hand and extending it waiting for hers. Once she shook - then and only then - would I sign the contract. As I signed the contract, Iona’s voice said over my shoulder, “I’ll keep you safe.”I knew I had made the right choice. There was a certain sense of calm. Peace. Connection? And I daresay the sense that I was, in fact, under her watchful gaze. I can still feel it, Journal, all these bells later - tucked beneath the bowels of the ‘Suds on my overstuffed chair. Iona’s not slated to begin ‘til tomorrow - but I most certainly feel her. And feel safer.If I ever need her, all I have to do is call her name.

((A copy of the contract is tucked into the journal’s pages))On this (insert sun) of the (insert moon) of the (insert summer), the signees below have entered into a verbal and written binding contract as outlined below; which shall not be broken by either party until terms have been fulfilled:I, Iona Dorne, shall provide physical protection in any such definition of the term to Zimzimki Zimki and her estate, presently located at Ward 21, Plot 9 of the Goblet housing district. If Zimzimki Zimki ever resides at another plot or abode, whether temporary or permanent, said protection shall still apply. This service will be offered every bell of every sun with no explanation required. The protection offered is only for Zimzimki Zimki and no other person(s) present at any given time.Iona Dorne, shall be under binding contract to sell Lalafellin Step Stools under Zimzimki Zimki’s orders on behalf of the Universal Access to CounterTops Initiative. Any number of bells, so ascertained by Iona Dorne’s schedule, will be spent each sun outside on Zimzimki Zimki’s estate’s property. Said services shall be the ruse of Iona Dorne’s presence at said property; however, all sales will be legitimate and all profits be immediately noted in provided UACT ledgers and funds safely stowed away in the designated coffers. Receipts shall be provided to any patron who so desires one.I, Zimzimki Zimki, shall provide payment in the amount of (to be determined at a later sun) 50,000,000 gil (the alteration was initiated by both parties) to Iona Dorne for the aforementioned protection and stool sales.(Signed by Zimzimki Zimki & Iona Dorne)_{((OOC: session 9/15/22 in FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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The Crimson and a Slumber Party

Dearest Journal,What an evening at the Crimson! Bumpkin and I shared a lucky chair that turned out to be not-so-lucky. If I worked my figures took home an extra 30,000. So I came up on top? So I suppose that’s good. Anyroad, where was I? Ah, the Crimson.Vollder and Oswood were also there, although I don’t remember too many other patrons throwing the dice. As the night went on, I suddenly got an itch that needed scratching so whispered in Badge’s ear to discreetly meet me in the facilities upstairs. Gods, there was no discretion. Did he wait at all to follow me? Nay! He ran up the stairs behind me and actually beat me to the bathroom.I’m pretty swiving sure everyone downstairs knew what we were about. Especially when it appears he’d left his vest draped across the sink’s countertop. Upon descending the stairs, I got a sinking feeling that Red had a sinking feeling - that he and I would cease our slumber parties and endeavors simply because Bumpkin was present for the evening. I hastily scribbled a note for him not to worry and passed it over with my next bet, but he was so busy he never had the time to read it.

One hilarious moment of the evening? Badge snapped his fingers and by the power of aether-thread changed into some fancy card-wielding attire, nearly shouting “FATE IS MY BITCH!” and promptly lost to the Crimson’s dice. Nay, dearest Bumpkin, Fate was not your bitch that night.As the night drew to a close, Oswood, Badge, Vollder, Red, and I lingered upstairs. Badge brought out a violin - don’t ask me where he kept it - and played a wee tune; a small dance was shared amongst friends. Once they left, though? Gods, the mischievous fun began.

I was sweeping downstairs, Red came down and challenged me to our usual games of Triad. Ah, the opportunity for more draws and more queries! Who am I to say no? The man kicked my arse! His three wins to my two; and not a single draw. Shite. No queries. But, it was Striple Triad…so we both lost our shoes and hats. I also lost my beautiful jewelry. Shite.As we sat on the couch babbling on about our recent endeavors, it turns out my gut feeling was right: he was worried I’d ask to stop our slumbering. Mayhap my gut and his were linked? Gods, I hope not with how many prunes I eat. Mayhap Red can’t hide his emotions - which is funny because he’s a Poker dealer and must needs maintain a facade! Or mayhap the sleeping tinctures we shared and the blood magics he performed did a bit more than aid in our dreams? Who in the seven hells knew. All I know: I was right. And took the time to soothe his fears.

He bade I turn my back to him and as I did so, he started to rub some of the kinks of my day’s labors out of my shoulders and neck. Although, I’m sure one or two of them were achieved in the restroom earlier. Gods, he KNEW that Bumpkin and I had gotten up to no good above. And declared that B and I were the first, as far as he knew, to christen the bathroom in our loving endeavors. Was he upset? Nay! He was tickled pink. As his fingers worked their way into the knots of my upper back, I leaned harder against his attentions.Topics shifted to the Herald and his Shirogane office and new duties as partner. Business was going well and he was rather busy. Which is good, but also was closer to home and able to jump at as moment’s notice to tend to Ume or Sasha’s needs or wants. Such a wonderful husband and father.As his hands drifted lower upon my clothed back, I was immediately covered in gooseflesh and struck with a powerful longing. Rather than risk not being able to control such desires, I turned around, scooted away from his probing digits, and asked if we could hurry back to the Shirogane apartment to tincture-up and hopefully our dreams would be linked.He smiled, snapped his fingers and adjusted the lighting of the Crimson to that hue of blue which caused our facial scars to once more pulse and glow. Gods…such a beautiful shade of green. I still don’t understand what manner of magicks were contained in that blasted Manderville bottle - if indeed it truly was a bottle of the family - but do I regret it? Nay. Sharing the terror of a shattering bottle and the painless marring of faces and now this lingering shade that only glistened beneath this light? It somehow brought me even closer to my best friend…if that were even possible.The shade of green in the line across Red’s right cheek reminded me of the glowing green eyes of the man I saw in our last dream. What was his name? Bro? Nay…Rho. Just as I expressed my query of the bottle, our scars, and that man be related; Red squashed the fears stating that the man was not real as all was contained in a dream and was pure coincidence.Aye. Makes good sense. His finger traced my own glowing green scar across the bridge of my nose before he leaned forward and planted a gentle, lingering kiss upon my lips.Gods. Gooseflesh and a quickened pulse. I swear it, Journal, I could give up the very air I breathe if it meant to live off of such tender moments. Our friendship deepened. Seemed to have festered - nay; that’s not the word - Seemed to have altered…I know that he and Ume were open to multiple partners, but Badge had said “Just Mine.” I would need to be careful. But swiving hells, he set my lips aflame.Again: the sleeping tincture! ANON! I asked if we’d make our way to Shirogane, and he bundled me up into his cloak, left our shoes and hats where they lay in a pile, and teleported us to the apartment’s lobby. I couldn’t see beyond the cloak’ dark walls until we were safely stowed away in the apartment and he unfurled my carriage.Ah. The peaceful music and candlelight greeted me. And, of course, we needed more Triad before bed. And needed to finish our Striple game…I almost had him down to his bared flesh, but the man won the last game and I was left with naught on and he his dalamud red smallclothes.Hilarious. Anyroad, I wiggled under our bed covers, he fetched the tincture, we both dosed up, then he followed suit beneath the covers; snuggled close, and we dozed.But the dream? Was it linked? Did we share each other’s company while we slept? The last thing I remembered before the dream: His gentle kiss upon my forehead and a warm, protective arm around my shoulders as we crept close against each other. Sweet sleep, Journal. I shall write in ya anon…_{((OOC: session 9/13/22 in FFXIV & 9/14/22 & 9/15/22 Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Linkpearl and an Unexpected Visit

Dearest Journal,Oi! I forgot to mention two very important things that occurred yesterday after I locked the doors of the Suds!Firstly, I got on my linkpearl with Red and let him know that Badge and I were more than just friends. We were dating! He sounded happier than even I was! How is that possible? AND I wanted to inquire: would he be sleeping at the Suds after the Crimson or would we be going to our apartment in Shirogane?SHIROGANE it would be! Did you know that Red left a key to the apartment in my nightstand? Right next to Olive and the Cylinder. Ha. Perfect place to house a key…Onward to relationship advice! Alex suggested Badge and I take our time enjoying each other’s company. Don’t move too fast. I insisted that Badge and I would change naught betwixt Alex and I, nor our shenanigans! Striple Triad, sleepovers, baths. Although a hunger for his flesh lingered in my belly, we could still be close friends, in the buff, and remain platonic. Aye? Aye.AND, the U-ACT Initiative’s founder, Jay Sit, found me in Ul’dah! Just to thank me for my efforts to supporting hers - and well, all of short of stature folk. Maintaining vendor relations to keep stools in steady supply on the marketboard for 400 gil or less is a huge undertaking. But one that’s near and dear to my heart.Then it hit me: Jay Sit is a goblin! Could she teach me the art of throwing those wee explosives? Ye know? In case I needed something stronger than a pebble or bubbly-breath. Unfortunately, Jay Sit’s skills were with sword and shield; not bombs. She suggested I can find unsavory goblins in the wilds who enjoyed such endeavors. Gods no. I wouldn’t be stepping foot into the wilds in search of unsavory gobbies! I’ll stick to my bubble breath…for now. Whalathee magics weren’t going anywhere without me…Anyroad, it was marvelous getting to meet her in person! Face to face! Prior, all I’ve ever seen of her was her writing in my stool shed journal! Naught more uplifting than the maker of an act you support with every fiber of your being leaving her mark in a your message book. It’s still there in crisp ink: “Loving the work you’ve been doing here, Ms. Zimzimki.” That was nearly a moon ago! And now to meet her in the flesh!I must needs go faint!_{((OOC: session 9/13/22 in Discord and FFXIV; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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SWEEP 'N SUDS - FIRST REAL CUSTOMERS!

Dear Journal,Good morning! It was quite the day at the ‘Suds as we had multiple clients! I came into the ‘Suds after picking up some fresh soap from Nanabe and there was Badge, wearing my maid’s dress, sweeping the floor. I laughed so swiving hard I can’t even begin to explain how bad my sides hurt. He had a good chuckle, then ran downstairs to change. He’d been sweeping or over a quarter of a bell in my dress just waiting for me to walk through the door.Obviously, he’d brought some sort of laundering and asked if it was ethical for him to have to pay his girlfriend to launder his clothes. I insisted, as this was my livelihood after all. Just because he doesn’t charge his friends and family to dine at the Sundown doesn’t mean I’ll do the same. Equal treatment - equal pay. Twenty-five gil per piece of clothing!

We came up with a compromise: I could wash his launderings, but whatever I cleaned needed to stay downstairs; that way he’d not have to bring a change of clothes anytime he slept over. So, I shoved some shite over and made room in the wardrobe by the changing room. Sufficient space! Now he wasn’t moving in mind you - just taking up some space. It made good sense.Anyroad, he still paid my 25 gil and I dropped it in the tank with the Fightin’ Finns. We jabbered on and waited for any clients to show - gods, always a dreadful wait. What if none showed? What if my pot bubbled for naught?We sat at my makeshift desk, blabbing on about plans for the Suds, the loan I never expected to get paid back but she’d recently contacted me that she had the gil, and past relationships. I intended to still have the portrait of Zototo and I hanging on the wall regardless of the newformed relationship with Bumpkin. And Badge still would keep his music boxes on display. No reason to hide or shelve past memories in light of making new ones.And just as we were moving topics to Virtue and the quick rescue from our Ul’dahn streaking, a Miqo’te walked through the door! Ah! A customer!!! The Suds’ first real customer!! Bumpkin doesn’t really count; aye?

The Miqo’te explained he had a uniform for work that needed severe attention, and he passed over a set of matching dark pants and a top covered in blood. By the gods! Was it his own? What’d he’d do for a living? I asked, but immediately withdrew my query - and offered him a beverage instead. Mayhap I best not know…Aye, Zenrah was his name and he’d had a long day and wanted a whiskey. As I turned, another patron walked through the door. I waved a hand in greeting and ran downstairs to fetch Zenrah a whisky. Upon my return, I found the hyur staring at the Fightin’ Finns - still had no time to address their needs as of yet…I handed the whiskey to the Miqo’te - and he gave me 50 gil and a mighty sizeable tip and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Shite. Everyone always trying to shove tips in my direction.

Anyroad, I dropped the bloodied attire into the launderpot and introduced myself to the newcomer. Cole was his name, and by the gods he worked with the Masked Carnivale! That would mean he was familiar with the ways of the Whalathee! And he was entrusting me to launder his Carnivale costume! And may I just say he looked stunning in a beautiful ensemble?As it turns out, unbeknownst to me in my enamored state of rambling with Cole about Martyn and the magics of the Blue, my pot had begun to boil over. While Cole was describing his costume, which was still outside in his chocobo’s saddlebags, there came a scent of burning cloth. Just as I began to turn, Zenrah asked if anyone else smelled something burning, and Cole most certainly did as he waved his hand before his nose.By the gods, Journal…what should I spy immediately upon facing the ice wall and launderpot? A pile of flames, high at the base of the pot…the fine fabrics of the bloodied attire had somehow bubbled out of the confines of my launderpot and fallen into the fire - only to be consumed. Shite. First customer of the day - of the business - and he had a “long day” - and here I had decimated his uniform.I offered him a full refund of his payment, as well as returned his generous tip…gave him a full set of Sweep ‘n Suds attire to make up for the lack of his uniform, and offered my services for the next several visits (assuming he returned) for free. And I asked Badge to pour Zen a whiskey - but nay - Bumpkin was makin’ his signature Dawnstars. Gods, those are good. Anyroad, Zen stuck around a while longer as he enjoyed the tropical libation. He actually said not to worry about the uniform; that he could get more through work. Thank the gods!!I downed my own morning Dawnstar and hells I should have eaten first. The libation hit extra hard in my empty stomach.Cole wrangled down his chocobo in the yard and procured his Carnivale outfit: a jacket with an attached cape and - shite - the swiving thing had a massive feather arrangement on the shoulder. There were also these adorable hempen shorts - but both were a fiery red as opposed to the typical blue hues of the Whalathee. He said it seems to add to firing up the spectators - they can pick to cheer for red or blue. I, of course, favor the red in light of a certain boss of mine. He also presented a small gray tie, adorned with the most interesting embroidery! Cole paid the 75 gil for three articles, and I gave him three prunes. He, too, gave a sizeable tip. Godsdamnit. My prices be set, no tips needed! I shall endeavor to say “no” more in the future.But how the hells do you launder feathers? As I couldn’t detach them from the pauldron, I simply shoved it all in the pot and prayed to Nymeia to bless the morning. Cole opted to wait as he munched on his prunes. Zen suggested that Cole try a Dawnstar, especially to wash down the sticky dried stonefruit. Try as we might, we couldn’t get him to join us in drinking alcohol this early in the morning. However, I did learn that Cole enjoyed tea. Lavender tea? Nay - I had none of that. But we had plenty of Ishgardian tea…although I did have lavender oils for my bath. I offered to drop a bit into the tea - nay. Cole’s a wise man and asked for purely an Ishgardian tea. No oil. Thankfully, Bumpkin said he’d handle prepping the tea and skitted off to the kitchen below.

Betwixt pleasant conversation of Whalathee magics and Zen’s enjoyment of the Dawnstar, I had completed laundering Cole’s costume. It had dried on the lines outside in the warm summer sun…although the feathers shall never regain glory. I must needs research how best to handle feathers and laundering.Regardless, I’ve been promised future business from these two! Mayhap it was Badge’s drink lubing up the mouth of Zen since I’d literally cooked his uniform - but aye - if they’ll be back, I’ll be ready!Bumpkin was a real life-saver: fetching drinks for the clientele! There’s no way in the seven hells I could have managed the drink and the launderpot! Hells, I could barely manage just my launderpot._{((OOC: session 9/13/22 in FFXIX; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Fishing with Badge

Dear Journal,Badge picked me up being our day of fishing! Both already dressed and carrying the right tackle and gear, we hopped upon Virtue and off we went. His hat was something to behold! Lucky, he called it. Anyroad, we flew for quite a while before descending to the shorelines in the Dravanian Hinterlands.It was a beautiful stream, and a lovely day for good company and the lure of the…well…lure! We were after sweetfish to grill - as Culinarian Dawnstar knows grilled sweetfish are one of my favored meals! And would we be waiting for a return to the kitchen? Nay! He sparked up a campfire and we’d be eating them fresh out of the stream and off the skewer. Of course, he brought those, too!

Anyroad, let the day of fishing begin! As ya remember, I do love to fish. Whether it be rescuing copperfish from bass or snagging my own lunch, there’s just something special about enticing a wee beasty to hook, hauling them from the waters, and smashing them upside the head with a rock before slicing them open and finding what they last ate - besides my fateful hook!Where was I? Oi! FISHING! I sloppily tied a lure to my line and cast away. Badge did the same, but I daresay he nicked his finger during the hooking process. Nothing like a little blood to draw in the prey, hm? Speaking of the swiving pray, it took several casts before I hooked even my first! It…was a leaf. A swiving leaf. Then worms. What was this shite? Did this stream even have any fish? At least we could use the worms to further entice our meal…After a quarter of a bell of leaves and worms, Badge suddenly let out a holler. He pulled a sweetfish from the water, dangling and dancing at the end of his line. Gods, knowing that beautiful slim creature would be in my mouth anon made me salivate! We needed more! He slipped the fish into my bucket to keep it alive until we’d be prepared to gut it. I mean, I feel a little bad - but godsdamnit, I’m hungry. And it had the entirety of the bucket to itself. A welcoming limbo…By the gods, did I suddenly have something massive on my line. It fought me, my arms were wiggling my the time I hauled it up. It was no fish, but a swiving bottle. Leaves, worm, and now refuse. But nay - Bumpkin pointed out there was a small parchment within. It held a map to possibly a treasure. What a waste. I’m here for sweetfish. Not refuse! Treasure, my arse.We most certainly exchanged some flirtatious words as we continued to cast our lines into the stream, fighting the current and the pure lack of sweetfish. He caught a few more fish while I didn’t - so I opted to put my rod down to gut since the bucket was almost already full. I brought out my wee fillet knife and set to work - I daresay he wasn’t expecting me to be so handy with it.

I wish I knew more of bladework other than gutting fish - but nay - that’s about the extent of my know-how. Although, Zototo did give me that wee dirk in Halatali. Anyroad, he pulled out two chairs so we could rest our legs and continue to fish once I completed my favored task of fishing. Where’d he get them? Straight out of Virtue’s holding-belly, of course.More worms. An odd fish with whiskers. And a few more sweetfish. I decimated the worms with my handy knife and we used the inners for more bait before returning to fishing.Conversation continued to flow as the bells moved on: the icebox at the ‘Suds had been left open. I don’t recall leaving it open, Badge denied it - mayhap it was Alex as he was there last eve. I would have to ask.By the gods, someone needs to go through this stream and dredge it for all these leaves. How am I expected to get sweetfish when all I can hook are leaves and refuse! Just as I had worked up the courage to ask about something important, my pole nary bent in half!THE FIGHT! The struggle! Bumpkin had to cover and help me with the rod or I would have lost it to the monster! The size of the sweetfish was nary a fulm long! It was beautiful! And barely fit into the bucket!!! Soon, fulm-long-sweetfish, would be in my inners!As we fished, we began to speak of us - as in our friendship and more. As ye may recall, Journal, things have developed quite a bit on the intimacy side of things. And I wanted to know - were we just friends who rutted or were we more?

He didn’t seem to know? Or at least danced around the topic with a blush and buried his thoughts into fishing. Finally he admitted he’d like us to be more than just ruttin’ friends. Just as he admitted to such feelings, my pole had yet another mighty yank. I screamed as a giant blue crustacean clung to my lure and panicked as it pinched toward me. Badge quickly cut it off the line and it plopped back into the stream. We spent some time tying on a new lure before I dunked the hook back into the waters and our conversation resumed.He had already faltered back to the fish and insisted we grill up the meager amount of sweetfish we had procured. I insisted we keep fishing and continue on with our conversation; luckily, he acquiesced. I expressed that Bumpkin and I were friends as Red and I were friends. Both deep in their own ways, both intimate in their own ways. But also both very different relationships. As much as I’d like to rut Alex, we’d not yet - there being some societal thoughts on such a pairing. And, gods, the tease is a wondrous thing. I also don’t know that the physicalities would work? Anyroad, Bumpkin and I were rutting - and had a connection, too. So - what to do now? Do we just rut as friends or do we make some sort of proclamation?I had caught another sweetfish and numerous leaves during that aspect of conversation when just as Badge began to speak - that swiving lobster returned to my fishing line! What? WHY? This time it actually found purchase and clung to my shirt with it’s massive talons! Claws? Clickyclacky? Whatever - I freaked out. Badge pulled out a knife - not jut the filletin’ kind! And speared the swiving thing straight through the hull! How in the world he could do that so quickly and not fear stabbing me in my gut is beyond me. Anyroad, he tossed the dead thing back into the stream…If the ghost of a blue lobster haunts my fishing pole, I’ll know that spot be cursed.Anyroad, where was I? We fished some more while he chewed on some thoughts. I caught two more sweetfish and a hells of a lot of worms until he finally stated that he wanted to be more than friends. That he wanted me to be his. And “just his.” Well, seeing as he was the first I ever rutted and I wasn’t rutting anyone else - I told him as such and technically that meant I was just his.He said not just in the matters of rutting. I didn’t quite know what that meant and asked - and he couldn’t seem to find the right words either. Just that he wanted us to be “us.” I put down the pole, explained that there was he and I, Red and I, other friends and I. But as far as rutting? Just he and I. And again, needed to know what else he meant he wanted.He wanted an official proclamation of sorts.

So I scrambled up the nearest boulder I could find and screamed to the heavens, "Babaji Dadaji! WILL YOU BE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS?!" Now anyone within shouting distance would know the real name of Bumpkin...Ha! Anyroad, aye - he said aye. So now we’re an us-us? He used the words boyfriend and girlfriend as we stood out in the rain of the Dravanian Hinterlands and shared a tender kiss.

The rest? A bucket of sweetfish was gutted, roasted, and devoured. And we enjoyed each other’s company as the campfire hissed in the drizzle. It was a sweet day - ha. Sweet! Sweetfish! HA! See what I did there?!Officially a thing, he and I. More than friends!! Far more than friends!_{((OOC: session 9/12/22 in FFXIX; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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An Early Dinner

Dear Journal,Alex and I were to share an early dinner at the Crimson Casino before it opened, but I got there even before he, as he was busy preparing our meal. I sprinkled the divan in rose petals, then brushed them off, then scooped them back up and sprinkled them onto the divan once more. If the Crimson has oldroses in abundance, we mayhap should make use of them; aye? I ran downstairs, turned the orchestrion player onto the rain tune thinking it’d be gentle relaxation, but ran to the bathroom to piss instead.He showed up about 20 mins after I did, carrying a pitcher of peach tea and a basket of sandwiches: Thavnarian perch, lettuce, and home baked white bread; cut into fourths. I greedily poured the peach tea (not adding any whiskey). And the sandwich bites were the PERFECT size for my wee hands, and gods, it was delicious. I don’t know what spices he used on the fish, but swiving delicious!I did ask and learn that the most important thing for the Whalathee magics is to always carry that wee blue stone with me that Martyn gave me…the rest is just for show. Well, I had left my blue stone at home and asked if he could chill our peach tea as it had warmed during travel. He did just that, breathing that icy breath of the Netherlies! The glasses frosted over, just for a moment, but enough to drop the temperature of the tea to perfection. Mayhap I’ll have my stone fashioned into a ring so as to always have it with me.We caught up on life and Ume’s big revelation - I wish I could write about it! BUT NAY! I promised! Did you know, Journal, other revelations have come to light? Red no longer works for the Star’s Herald - instead he co-owns it! Talk about investments! We clinked glasses of congratulations and strong bonds and continued to devour fish.Then conversation shifted to our friendship and beyond: of boundaries and matters of the heart; both love and lust and things I shan’t write about here…But by the gods, Journal, that Desert Bloom sets my heart aflame and my cheeks rosy.I tidied up a bit more around the Crimson before taking my leave back to the ‘Suds and he had to tend to the guests of the casino. I still taste the spices of that perch upon my tongue…and every time I belch, I relive the conversations we shared today._{((OOC: sessions 9/11/22 in Discord))}

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Streaking through Ul'dah

Dearest Journal,After an evening of slumber, Badge and I awoke in Uncle Hohoduti’s massive bed and as he reached over for a bit of pre-breakfast shenanigans, I slipped out of the bed. Oh, a game of chase immediately erupted in the ‘Suds, running around naked around the bed, passed the Fightin’ Finns, beyond the dining area, and up the stairs, narrowly missing Nibbles.Badge, of course, gave chase.Screaming, I tore open the front door and dared him to pursue, both of us naked as the day we were born. He stopped, wore a face of panic only for a second before charging out into the front yard. I – I did not expect that and ran for the launderpoles, snagged two towels - threw one at him and wrapped myself in one before tearing down the cobblestones of Ul’dah.He blushed and continued the chase, the pitter patter of barefeet and crass threats behind me. Grinning like an idiot, I ran toward the gates of Ul’dah. Once through, I turned to taunt him with a squeal and a grin, but instead slammed into a Miqo’te behind me. Shite.That pause? Gave him enough chance to capture me! He swept me up in a hug of heaving lungs, endless smiles, and a kiss. We were just within the gates of the city, barely outside the Miners’ Guild when I I unfurled my towel just enough to burrito him within mine.A guard of the Immortal Flames gave us quite the disapproving glance and began to approach…shite. Mayhap it was an arrestable offense to display affection in public while wearing naught more than Lalafellin-sized terrycloth towels?Just before he reached us, Bumpkin gave a loud whistle and Virtue careened from the heavens to hover betwixt us and the guard. With a mighty twirl, Badge hefted me up onto the cloud. I lost the grip on my towel, which hit the guard across the face. “ASCEND!!!” I screeched in my nakedness as we winked at the guard and we flew away through the crowded streets, weaving betwixt bewildered looks and the both of us cackling the whole time. Badge even reached out and snagged the shaded spectacles off of some passerby and slipped them onto my face to fight the morning sun’s glare. I’ll have to be sure to find some place to set them later…hopefully the rightful owner can “run across them.”As we flew above the Capitol dome and Virtue settled into a nice pace, our breath refilled our lungs, and conversation ceased to exist due to a bit of lip locking. Well, I was seated upon his lap…and there was naught but a towel betwixt the two of us…Let’s just say there’s a newfound appreciation for the phrase moving heaven ‘n earth as ye bond with someone. Never did I ever think I’d pair with someone while up in the skies of Thanalan. Mayhap it’s where the phrase “birds and bees” sprang from? Bumpkin cracked a joke about the malm-high-club, but I didn’t understand the reference. Afterward, we made it home safely and enjoyed each other’s company in a hot bath, followed by a nap.I awoke about a bell later and reached Red on his linkpearl to inquire as to what one buys a retiring dancer for a gift. His suggestion? Cheesecake. I countered with Cubus - from my beloved Amaurot Hostelry. I wouldn’t have the time to go, but he may in his schedule. Assuming the Hostelry still stood and wasn’t destroyed by the gigantic snails of our Dreamscape.We also planned that the evenings after the Crimson he’d continue to come to the ‘Suds for our slumber parties. Alcohol, baths, mayhap massages, dinner, and dreaming tinctures. Gods know what other shenanigan may ensue.I thoroughly loved Alex, Ume, and Sasha. But he had a dream that Badge and I had a son and had shared an estate with the Shimizus - raising our children together. By the gods, his head was influenced by the ideas of his wife.We spoke briefly of the tincture and how best to procure more. He even considered picking up studies in alchemy just to be able to tinker with tinctures. I think that idea a bit risky…especially given the state of our brains be on the line.Bells later, I found myself back at Nanabe’s stall, but she had run out of stock of the dreaming tincture with no estimation as to when she’d have more. She refused to reveal her source of where she procured it; although I can’t blame her: when one has a source of such exotic goods, why would she? Alex suggested he’d search for a tincture or two to induce a heavy sleep or bring dreams forward, and once more prepare the blood magic ritual to cause the link betwixt the two of our slumbering selves.And it just so happened he was already at the Amaurot to purchase more Cubus! I quickly asked if Azem was working or if Emet-Selch were there - mayhap Red could inquire as to tinctures there. I know their services have been wonderful in similar fashions in the past. Remember the “intention” tincture that allowed us to know the true intentions of the other, if even just for a bell? Unfortunately, he would have to return to the Hostelry as Eos wasn’t there and was likely the one who would best know about a dreaming tincture. We would just have to use the tinctures we had now very sparingly.Gods, Journal. Ya know how he ended the linkpearl conversation that afternoon? “Have a pleasant night bumpin’ the Bumpkin.” A rest. This girl needs a rest!_{((OOC: sessions 9/10/22 in Discord))}

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A Night at House of Virtue

Dear Journal,Badge was waiting for me at the Suds when I got home and he listened to me excitedly ramble on and on about the Whalathee magics… I also told him about the exploding bottle and the resulting scars Red and I received. Then I had to soothe his concerns as there was no pain associated with them.

As night took hold, we walked to the House of Virtue together. But gods, the fireworks exploded and we stopped to gaze upon their beauty. The darkness lit up in hues of gold, green, red, and blue! The booming eruptions of color echoed amongst the houses, walls, and canyon walls. Glory!! He reached over and slipped his hand into mine. It was pure magic. I do fear it made him late for his shift and he ran ahead while I lingered at the gates of the casino.Ume and Alex stook outside of the House (in matching outfits, I might add). Red explained to her that Badge and I had been…becoming closer...Ume’s first question? When will she become an aunt and Sasha have a mate. WHAT? We’re not even an official couple, and she’s pushing for kids already? Nay! He pulls out!! That’s not going to happen! Ume rambled on about wanting to forge a stronger bond betwixt us - becoming family rather than simply companions. By the gods, she’s brazen!

And she has nicknames for the both of us: Pookie-Poo for Badge and Zimmothy for me! I daresay he doesn’t quite like being called Pookie-Poo, but I can’t stop now that she’s uttered the phrase. The lovebirds went inside the casino while I got distracted…

Iona was by the stables waiting patiently and inquired as to when we should meet to discuss my advertisement in the Herald for personal security. Anon…but not now, as she had a shift downstairs at the tables. I asked if she, too, was afraid of Tori. Nope. But she was afraid of - something - but wouldn’t tell me the secret. I suppose that’s fair as we weren’t close. Yet…Sitting at the bar, Ume had discussed retiring from her job to focus on family. I think that’s a marvelous idea! Remember she had asked that I find a certain glowing fish? Well, I did…and brought them with me tonight in a jar. As her ensemble had no pockets, I asked where she’d like me to place the jar. She smiled, took the jar, snapped her fingers and it vanished. Some void called the “Buttsheathe.” I’ve never heard of such a place, but if one was to take it’s meaning literally, I shutter to think of the well-being of those poor fish. And how does one manifest such power? She promised to have a thank you gift delivered to my estate anon. I insisted it wasn’t necessary as the request was a part of my Shimizu Estate contract, but she insisted I’d receive a delivery parcel over the coming suns.

Badge came downstairs to mingle near the bar as we conversed with the Shimizus…and he held my hand in front of everyone. Now that was telling…If people didn’t know that we’d already been growing closer they must certainly should now.The Shimizus and I played several rounds of Chase the Dealer against Iona, but I lost 40,000 gil to the House! Damn it! Alex and Ume seemed to have fared better and taken their leave to the bathhouse. I ordered another drink from Vollder, but suddenly he barked that I needed to control my man. I turned and there was a small crowd gathered around Bumpkin - who was glaring menacingly at JoJo. I don’t know what had happened? But pulled him by the arm and insisted we join Alex and Ume in the baths.He followed like a good little pup and Tori nodded her head in approval…I think?

We changed into our swimsuits and slipped into the water with Red and Ume. Now, there was a whole slew of conversation from Ume that I’m under strict orders I cannot write about. But that’s okay. The news was so monumental I will never forget it! Ever!! But, by the gods Journal - the news!!Tori walked into the bathhouse to check on Badge - apparently it was something about family drama? A daughter trying to kill another daughter. There’s Weavy - but he has another daughter? Someone is trying to kill Weavy? Who would be so foolish? She’s terrifying. And Tori insisted that he needed to take the rest of the night off. Badge seemed disgruntled at the command, so I reached over to grab his hand, but mistakenly grabbed his Branch instead. Damned steamy water! There was no hiding my blush…and I quickly released my hold. But apparently Tori caught wind of my error, laughed, and made her way back to the bar downstairs.

Bumpkin let us know he was angered by JoJo’s actions because JoJo had known of the return of this prodigal, murderous daughter. And Oswood has apparently been housing her at their estate? I do hope things simmer down.With the mood being so somber and the news downtrodden, we simply walked back to the ‘Suds and went to bed. Hopefully things will look better with the rising of the dawn._{((OOC: session 9/9/22 in FFXIX; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Whalathee Magics

Dearest Journal,What a long, hard sun it’s been! Lots of training with Red in the Whalathee ways! Well, not with - by. He’s already learned many of the blue magic ways…and he’d known I, too, had a stone from Marvin. Martin? Martyne? Whatever the hells his name is.Anyroad, a day of training! After we woke from our shared slumber, he had me meet him in the marketplace as he had a gift for me: an upgraded costume, far classier than the one I had previously purchased myself. AND a necklace to go with it. The crystals were best suited for the magics we’d be wielding - or something fancy like that. As there was nowhere to change in plain sight, I found a cluster of tall bamboo that shielded my small frame just fine.

Although, I daresay that cad snuck a peek. I mean, it’s nothing he’s not seen before at our slumber parties. But the taboo of stealing a peek at a changing maiden hidden by towering shadow of bamboo? I suppose that was too much to resist? I certainly gave him a stern mocking earful once I had put on the new duds.Firstly, I needed to learn the spell of spewing bubbles. And to do such a thing in a safe manner was important to me - I’d no desire to go stomping about where things may eat me in the sea. Red, ever-aware of my cautious state of mind, had already come up with a safe solution. Apparently, as the real primal Leviathan had been dispatched by the Warrior of Light, a certain circle of summoners from Limsa had come up with a way of summoning - what’d he call it? A demi-Leviathan. A much smaller scale of creature, but one that still spewed bubbles - and if we killed it together I, too, could safely learn the art of blowing water and bubbles from my mouth. And if for some reason we couldn’t kill the wee Leviathan? The demi-primal would simply vanish into aether as if it never existed. There was very little risk of harm to myself or the countryside. Well - oceanside? Ocean. Just ocean. No shoreline. Just the sea.Red would be acting as a summoner to deal with any enemies that may arrive other than the demi-primal - and he whisked us away by the aetheryte to the summoning platform. Once more, words were uttered that I’ll never understand and there before us loomed a giant sea snake. I thought this thing was suppose to be a miniature version of the actual primal? Mayhap it was smaller? I don’t know the size of the real thing - but swiving hells - it was massive.

He asked I summon my wee aether anchovies and hurl them at Leviathan a few times, which I did - doing naught but making it angrier! I ran around screaming and dodging attacks until Red had his fun and dispatched of the demi-primal. But do you know what, Journal? After all that stress, I ripped a mighty belch from my gullet and out came a small torrent of water and bubbles. It had worked! Praise be to the Whalathee and the summoners of Limsa.He was overjoyed! As was I! I could summon and throw fish…as well as vomit water and bubbles! That may actually come in handy for my cleaning business! But I must needs practice and learn to control it better.I thought we were done.Nay…He informed me we’d be heading off to the land of ice and snow to learn the Whalathee magics fo the Netherlies…but before we did such, we’d return to the apartment so I could change into something warmer. Or at least fill my belly with hot tea. I didn’t have a heavy blue coat and although Alex swears the magical attire of the Whalatee is simply a costume and the color isn’t necessary to wear, I don’t believe him. I’d drink tea. And endure the cold…Back in Shirogane, not only did we drink tea but we played a round of Triad. I may have kicked his arse. Another hand and try at his redemption was met with a draw. I do believe I had the last capture, but it was time to continue my training!

To the Coerthas we went, once more via aetheryte. I asked my query once we arrived in the cold…and he pulled out a wee box, clicked a button, and summoned a black monstrosity of a horseless carriage. I asked him his favored part of our shared dream from the eve before…but could not hear his answer as the cold wind whisked away his words. Did you know in our Dreamscape we could hear each other’s thoughts? It was amazing!! Swiving wind tearing words from my ears. Anyroad, the transportation flew into the air and we pursued our prey - some white horned creatures that had breath of ice! The Netherlies! Once more I hurled a fish at the beast, then ran away as it pursued Alex instead…once it spat ice chunks out at my friend - he swiftly dispatched of it. The aether of the slain creature (gods, I feel bad) wafted over and soaked into the blue stone I had procured from Marvin. And…it now possessed the memory of the magic of The Netherlies. Suddenly, I felt another urge to belch…and did so - expelling my own icy breath perfect pebbles of ice. Red dodged my gaseous cold attack, and our mission was accomplished. Good, as my hot-tea-belly was subsiding and the chill of the Coerthas was settling into my bones.

He scooped me up in his arms, I planets a kiss upon his scarred cheek, and he teleported us away to the forests of the Shroud. He spoke with some nearby folk, but learned nothing of whatever it was he sough, shaking his head. Again, if I could only hear what he was thinking in the Here ‘n Now as I did in our shared dream. Anyroad, he once more picked me back up and in a blur of aether found ourselves in the land of rock and floating islands. The home of the Delivery Moogles! Or at least warrior delivery moogles? The same gigantic poofs of fluff that graced the Shimizu estate’s pathways seemed to grow naturally here.Alex stated he needed to have a conversation with the moogle chief and entered into a cave. My first thought: that misadventure with Moon and the cave…but Red insisted there were no pirates or ruffians - simply moogles and more poofs. Okay, okay - I quickly joined chasing his coattails into the well-lit cave.

Brave as can be and not even offering a bow, Alex interacted with the Chief as if they were old friends, even called them by their first name. I think it was Moglin? Or something. Anyroad, he explained the need for me to learn their curing spell, Pom-something - and in order to do so the moogles would be putting on a mummery. One reenacting the summoning, protection, and murder of the Good King Moggle Mog…and we were to be portraying the Warrior of Light. Imagine in: Red and I - the godsdamned Warrior of Light. Ha!Anyroad, back to the mummery! There was a certain moogle who’d be taking the stage - well, a mummer of a moogle pretending to be some moogle named Furryfoot…and they’d be casting a spell to cure the limping and hurting King. Once Fuzzyfoot cast that magic, we were free and clear to put them all down! The acting? By the gods, Journal, the acting was superb! I’d swear the way the mummers literally fell to the ground defeated, then rose up again, revived by magics I’d yet to learn - then fell again, lying still as statues? How many times had they practiced such an act? Simply amazing! I felt as if we’d needed to tip the mummers at the end of the show!!! And I’d also learned a bit of their curing magics! No longer would I be helpless when accidentally stabbed by my mending needle: I only had need focus on my blue stone and sing that adorable little song that I already forgot. I wonder if just humming the tune will work. We shall see…

Each one of the mummers floated up and clapped us on the back, stating we’d done a mighty fine job portraying the Warrior(s) of Light. Ha! Alex gave each of them a nut for their efforts and time. What a wonderful experience!Once again, it was time to return to Shirogane. Alex nodded to the Chieftain of the moogles, who suddenly rose into the air, twirled around and magically teleported Red and I back to the apartment for a bit of lunch, Triad (he swept the board with his cards!!), a few more drops of tincture, and another nap.

Gods, Journal - this dream? It was awful! There were giant snails, my friends from the Amaurot Hostelry, and Red. I really must needs learn that toad-tongue magic of the Whalatee Ways…assuming it were anywhere as decent as it was in my dream. Anyroad - that dream, too, must needs make it’s way into the Dream Journal!I will say, this, though…Remember our term “calamari”? Well…there’s another way to tell if we are dreaming together and it’s to do with the eyes! And I think the veil betwixt the Dreamscape and the Here ‘n Now may be lifting: Red and I ended our shared dream with a kiss…and awoke in that gigantic bed but the distance betwixt us had vanished and our lips were touching. We’d kissed before as best friends in greeting or parting, but this? This was a smidge more exciting than just a friendly peck. And it ended in a smile from teh both of us.So, let's see: using Marvin' blue stone and the Whalathee ways, I know how to summon tiny fish, burp bubbles and ice chunks, and heal small wounds. This is exciting! I'm learnin' magics!_{((OOC: session 9/9/22 in FFXIX; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Candles, the Crimson, and the Mysterious Manderville Bottle

Dear Journal,What a crazy few suns it’s been! I was able to procure the candles from the artisan in Forgotten Springs, although they don’t smell of peach and desert blooms. I had let Red know that I’d procured a tincture that was supposed to help with lucid dreaming, and had packed up my Whalathee costuming and blue stone.We were to meet at the Crimson for a night of gambling before heading to Shirogane for a slumber party in Red’s newly-renovated apartment. But the tincture? Of course, once more procured from Nanabe - she has the greatest items! And the instructions: three drops before bed, no alcohol or caffeine for three bells before usage...and hope that sleep comes with an amazing tale and adventures I can control!

Anyroad, where was I? Ah yes, the Crimson! It was a whirlwind night of wins and losses. And, as usual, I had lost more gil than I intended. I had remained sober, as had Red - per the instructions of the the tincture. But it was all in good fun. After Forgal left - by the gods did he leave a stench in the facilities - Red and I had our usual games of Triad. The dramatic music and lights were a must, as always. ”Weight o’the World” is stuck in my head once again just writing this!

We were to play one hand. And it was a doozy. Cards flipping and re-flipping. I swore a lot while all he did was focus and chuckle. And with our combined Triad skill ‘n luck - it ended in a draw. I had the last capture, so the query was mine for the asking.So, a while ago after we remodeled the Crimson’s storage closet into a fully functional restroom I had found that mysterious Manderville bottle again. Mayhap it was a different one? If memory serves me well, which it oftentimes does not, I thought Red had returned it to Godbert and was told it was a counterfeit? But…there it was…begging to be placed somewhere. So a few sennight ago, I had placed it downstairs in his Dealer’ Pit - close to where that secret hatch was for the orchestrion player.My query? Would he ever open the bottle. Gods, I was curious what could happen. We already knew the booming voice to return the bottle to the Saucer was a farce. But what else? Was it the same bottle as before? Or had someone or something planted a second bottle in the closet of the Crimson?He smiled at me as he picked up the bottle, and without hesitation tore out the cork.The swiving thing exploded! Shards of bottle bits flew through the air and there was no dodging such. I know I screamed and he cursed…but when all was said and done? He had a nasty scar alongside his right cheek. And said I had a bit of the same on my nose and lip. What? There was no pain. Just…a scar. As if we’d had them for summers…All sealed and healed. The bottle? Gone. And what’s even stranger? Our newfound markings glowed a faint shade of green beneath the swirling lights of the Crimson.

Once we gathered our wits and our things, Alex teleported us back to Shirogane for my tour of the new apartment, shenanigans, and sleep. He begged I wait in the lobby for a moment as he disappeared into the apartment, then beckoned me in. Gods, it was beautiful. And the first words he uttered? “Welcome home.”“Home.”My home in Shirogane, just as much as the ‘Suds be my home in Goblet. And, of course, there was a Triad Board already set up. Two beds? A large bed and a fluffy futon. I gave him the candles I purchased, which he immediately set about and lit. They didn’t smell quite right, but looked lovely. He said they reminded him of ogre pumpkin and cinnamon? Or some spice. Not horrible, but not what I ordered. The futon was for naps or massages or both. The bed? For longer bells of slumber. There was even a hot tub and a large locker. It’s his own personal locker from his time spent in the Maelstrom!

There was even the little potted orange tree from before. Gods, I missed those little oranges and immediately tore one off for tradition’s sake. It was quite sour! Of course I peeled one and handed it to him as well.As he ate the very tart wee citrus, I pulled the two tincture bottles out of my satchel. He smiled and asked for a favor. One that he thought may sound frightening, but had purpose and I could say ‘no’ if I so desired. Color me intrigued!He pulled out a small dagger. What? But he didn’t point it toward me, and I heard no malice in his voice. Just a mirrored curiosity and “no promises it will work.” What will work?He asked for the two vials of tincture, which I quickly passed into his open palm. And then the dagger came into play. He asked for a few drops of my blood for magics that may or may not work. Hells, we’re bonded by glowing scars and a Manderville bottle - and all he wanted was a few drops of my blood? Aye. The tip of the blade pierced my finger (gods, I squeaked even knowing it was coming) and he squeezed two drops of my finger juices into each open vial. I watched as the blood sank and swirled into the mixture. I sucked on my finger until he asked that I hold the vials as he repeated the puncture and droplets on himself. Two of mine and two of his in each vial. His blood mingled with my own…

Then he began to chant words I’ll never understand. That strange little red magic focus thing he carries around glowed faintly…then the tinctures themselves glowed a faint shade of crimson before - in the blink of an eye - all returned to normal. The tinctures were simply as they were before. No visible trace of our inners within…and his red thing stopped glowing as well. He stood there, smiling. And his scar? Also stopped glowing. In fact, I hadn’t noticed it since we came to Shirogane. He said the same of mine…“Red Magics,” he said. And again, no promise whatever spell he wove would work on our sleeping tinctures. I asked if using such magics was taxing - as sometimes it would make Badge’s hands shake. Nay - he was a little fatigued, but we were so close to bed. And Journal? The tinctures? With the mingled blood magics? Red said it was meant so that we could dream together - enter a space in our slumber - but only if we were close. I’ve no idea the distance that would sever such a connection…but he did promise that if he ever did walk into my dream and Badge and I were - being - what’s the word I’m looking for? If we were occupied together that he would politely excuse himself and find his own dream. Ha! I asked if he’d ever join us if I invited him in the Dreamscape…slip betwixt the sheets with Bumpkin and I. Aye. If I invited him? He would. Oh, this would be fun!But how to know I was actually seeing DreamRed and not just a Red of my slumbering imaginings? We were to have a code word to confirm the presence of one another in a lucid shared dream. Aye. He chose it: “calamari.” Why in the world such a word would be the word? Likely because we never use it in conversation. Ever. So, “calamari” it is!Needless to say, we were both eager to see if the tincture and blood magic happened to work. So we immediately clambered into the apartment’s gigantic bed and dozed off. It worked! I must needs start a dream journal so as not to confuse the Here and Now with the Dreamscape. And do you know what, Journal?I’ve never felt closer to my best friend. Linked by sleep - well, with the aid of some alchemical concoction, our mingled blood, and some red magic. The tincture must needs be used sparingly, though, as there’s not much in these vials…
_{((OOC: session 9/7/22 & 9/8/22 RP in FFXIV and Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Weavy at the 'Suds

Dearest Journal,Today Sweep ‘n Suds was open to the public and I had only one customer: Weavy Cupcake. She came to talk business…for a moment I was afraid she was gonna harass me about ruttin’ her father - but nay? She seemed not to know. Anyroad, she brought prunes and pastries. And a need to yabber. So yabber we did.The first question out of her mouth as I poured my coffee was if Badge and I had a chance to talk since she’s not had a chance to do so herself. Shite. Okay. So did she know? Nay. She couldn’t know. Should I tell her? Nay! I told her she should make some time to talk to him as she was asking how he was. I, Zimzimki Zimki, was not about to inform Weavy Cupcake that her father and I had become…intimate friends.

Onward, to business! Weavy would like to hire me as a housekeeper for the Cupcake Estate - so we took the time to draft up a proper contract. I left her pregnant arse on the cushions and raised my voice as we settled on the terms:A near-to-medium-sized estate with excess rooms…although I’d only be expected (at this time) to handle Weavy’s private room as far as room go. She advised there were quite a lot of plants within the estate, so I tacked on a Groundskeeping charge. And I’d be expected to handle the weekly laundry - and once the bairns were around, their nappies as well. So, 8,500-9,500 gil per cleaning…which I expect to be every sennight? Mayhap every other sennight? Or just as-needed.Anyroad, I didn’t want her round arse to stand, so I took the parchment and quill with me to the cushion, had her read it there, and sign it using my back as a desk. I daresay she sniffed when she and I were so close. SNIFFED. I wonder if she literally caught the scent of things. Nay. It’d been a sun and I’d bathed. She’d smell naught but vanilla and prunes upon this Lalafell.She suddenly accused me of being dishonest. About what? The contract? She had already signed the parchment and we were facing one another. She stared at me. I spun, poured a second cup of coffee, and whispered “Brushy” to spring my guard-broom into life - in case such was needed. Weavy’s eyes narrowed, static built up around her hair…the hair on my own arms stood on end. Shite. She insinuated that my “talks” with her father seemed to go “better than expected.”

I dropped the coffee cup and it shattered on the floor. How’d she sniff that from a sun ago? HOW? Mistress (my quard-broom) immediately set about sweeping up the shards, spreading the spilled brown nectar around the tile floor. Swiving thing….I insisted she speak to her father about it. That our tale was his to inform her. She insisted that nay, he’s an adult, and she’s happy that he is happy…and that he’s sleeping again. Apparently, he hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all, as of late? I informed her we even snoozed half a sun at the sauna…Her static charge faded and I dismissed Mistress to her corner to once more be naught more than a dormant broom. Conversation swept to the Death Dice Tournament, the buns in Weavy’s oven, and stress. Which led to conversation of Hephepli’s recent trauma…and the fact that she’s left my employ and moved in with her mother. Razvigor had taken over the sale of the stools, but he works figures worse than I do. And I asked Weavy if she knew of any bodyguards with a good head for figures…someone to take Raz’s place outside while keeping an eye on the estate and all those within. Just in case that ruffian (or ruffians!!) returned to take my gil or worse. The Immortal Flames still hadn’t been able to find any clues as to who hurt Hep and why. And Raz and I can’t figure out where 350,000 gil of the UACT coffers went. Mayhap Hep had it? And it now belonged to a thief? Or mayhap we just cannot balance a ledger…

Anyroad, Weavy said she’d ask around, but suggested I also place an ad in the Herald and conduct interviews. A splendid idea!Gods, Journal…Weavy brought up the mystery at the House of Virtue: someone pissed in a glass in the VIP room and they cannot ascertain who yet..but they would. Somehow. Tori has demanded answers…shite.Weavy took her leave and walked by my neighbor’s house; you know it’s made of candy? Or at least appears such. The one Graeskar and I tried to nibble on? Anyroad, Weavy marched right by it, and literally tore out a fence post, munching on the tip as she turned the corner and wandered out of sight.And she wonders why she terrifies me. She wants to be friends. But a static charge, squinty eyes, allegations, and tearing up fence posts?I don’t know, Journal…I’ve already drafted an ad for an undercover guard! And confirmed that Red will be over tomorrow night after the Crimson for our regular slumber party. He had a busy schedule this sennight: not only running the Crimson and working the Herald, but renovating his old apartment into something special. Building a Sanctuary of sorts; an escape from the daily toils and naught but relaxation and comfort. I have been charged with finding just the right candles for the space. I think I’ll go for something scented. Mayhap a talented artisan could duplicate the scent of peaches and the Prairie Fire he’s named after.I must needs go shopping anon._{((OOC: session 9/6/22 RP in FFXIV & Discord; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Prunes & Steam

Dear Journal,It’s been a sun. Had a few conversations on the linkpearl, but the bulk of it has been spent in Ishgard with Bumpkin.Mistress Urleaux is making great progress on my Triad Trophy - the once-fabric glove is now cast in some sort of metal…although she says it’s not near finished yet. I must needs practice more patience. Speaking of Red and trophies, I wished him a quick congratulations and extended my love over the pearl. I do believe he was still sleeping midway through the sun. Some suns are meant to be lazy; hm?And then there’s Badge. He and I spent the day in Empyreum pruning in the pools until the chill in the air became too much and I wandered into the sauna. There was no one there, so I removed my suit and smirked as Badge removed his trunks, but still covered himself with his towel. He must needs - become less shy at some point. Skin is skin. Just the clothes of the body. Naught to be ashamed of. I teased him for being shy and he dropped his towel with a shake of his head and sat next to me.We sat next to one another, hip to hip, my head on his shoulder, his hand around my own shoulder. The last thing I remember talking about before we woke up bells later was the warmth of the Thanalan sunshine versus the icy breezes of Ishgard. And Bumpkin’s retirement? One day he wished to be a farmer?Anyroad, whatever time it was, Badge woke me up. I couldn’t feel my arse on the hard wooden bench and had a kink in my neck from snoozin’ on Badge’s shoulder. I wonder if anyone came in while we slept in the buff? Ha! We’ll never know…It was dark outside the sauna’s window…and we spoke of dinner. We got dressed (well, if swimsuits are considered proper dinner attire) and made our way back to the Dawnstar. I insisted he not cook and we settled on a nice stew at some local cafe…A very fulfilling day indeed. Nothing like a good nap to soothe the soul and steam to soothe away the aches of the last few days._{((OOC: Discord session 9/5/22 RP))}

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A Walk Through Ishgard

Dear Journal,After Red gave me a piggyback ride home from the Death Dice tournament, I hailed Badge on his linkpearl. He was still awake and at his home in Ishgard. I blurted out that he made a far better Dawnstar than Tori…but he’s to never tell her I said that! The desert night was cold this eve and I needed some…warmth. So I headed to the Ul’dahn plaza and rode the aetherstream to Bumpkin...By the quick flash I ended up in Ishgard, there he was: in pajamas, fuzzy boots and a coat. He pulled me in for a warm hug and a kiss. As we walked back to Empyreum and the hearth he promised was burning, I informed him of Weavy’s promotion to emcee, as well as Red’s winnings!Even more exciting than all of that? I watched Badge as the snow fell around us and did you know that as the snowflakes landed upon his person, they sizzled and dissolved in little puffs of steam? Fiery something or other, he once said.Anyroad, I also told him how the House of Virtue is in desperate need of facilities as I was instructed to piss in the bushes of the neighbor’s estate…which I did, of course. Then Red walked me home. And here we were. Bumpkin expressed his pleasure in Red making sure I made it home safely and disclosed that Tori had it out for the neighbors for some reason. Well, I’m glad my tiny bladder could aid the cause. But still…proper facilities are needed. A glass one eve and a bush another? Nay. I need functioning plumbing. Or at least a pisspot.Turns out Tori and he are best friends; he once carried a torch for her, but it never went beyond. Just as conversation turned toward rutting, we were in front of the Dawnstar estate. The trees glowed in the night sky. Glowing trees. It’s like the glowing puff-balls at the Shimizu estate. Badge said they’re from the floating isles. I don’t know if he was referring to the trees or the puff-balls…In we went and I removed my coat as he once more tinkered with a bookshelf. And with that? The talk of rutting resumed. Gods, he turned so many shades of crimson. And tripped not only over his words, but the stairs. Bumbling Bumpkin. What can I say? The man awakened in me an appetite I didn’t know existed…I’ll leave out the details, Journal, but I didn’t return home ‘til just a few minutes ago. Ya can fill in those blanks. The sun is up and Hep has made fresh coffee. She’s not yet returned to her duties of selling stools outside. Razvigor is doing a fine job, even if he’s worse at figures than I am. She may never be comfortable outside again. And she still refuses to talk about it; although, I have have my suspicions she doesn’t know much of what happened…_{((OOC: Discord session 9/4/22 RP))}

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The Crimson & Death Dice XIII

Dearest Journal,It was a busy last evening of casino and dice. Not only was the Crimson open, but it was also the Eighth official Death Dice tournament. I buzzed Red on my linkpearl to see if there was aught needed for the casino…his simple answer: “Surprise me.” Gods, how I ran to the market as fast as my Lala legs would carry me.As I walked through the doors, we spoke a little about the evening at the Amaurot and his recovery from the snail incident. He seemed to be doing fine. And, it mayhap was the Elpis noodles that got to him, as he thought Elpis were long-since extinct? Mayhap it wasn’t bird at all he ate with his noodles? But something his digestive system had a violent reaction to. I still think it was the snail. We may never know.Anyroad, I handed him my purchase from the marketboard. A floating jellyfish lamp. I don’t know what held it aloft…but reminded me of something you’d see in a dream. He found the perfect spot for it in the Crimson. I enjoyed poking it randomly when no one was looking.Do you recall the wee cylinder he gifted me? Well, he proclaimed he had actually made it himself; been tinkering with the idea of tinkering with magitek! And seemed quite skilled at it as he brought forth a wee metal box…He pushed a button and it transformed into a metallic goblin of sorts! Named it “Pax” - in light that it carried a wee pack and could haul things hither to thither. Turns out it took Red a moon to create such a thing! It would have taken me summers! I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I asked if it was sentient…like that pile o’mud from Azem. Or knew wee phrases like Badge’s Mammets or Inquisitor Travanchet’s voicebox. It knew only Red’s voice and simple commands he’d give it…such as “Compact and Power Down.” I marveled as the wee goblin once more folded into a neat little box.Just as it clinked to the ground, in walked Forgal….rearing up to gamble! Aye! Gods…I think I lost more than I won that eve? Normally I fancy Fate & Fortunes, but Forgal turned me on to the Crimson Poker; and I daresay I’m hooked. It also drained my coin purse quite a bit…but it was worth it. All the fun. And Forgal? By the gods, he’s an amazing bundle of energy and excitement! Knows some transformation magics, too, and went from white to being covered head to toe in pink armor! I - in all the excitement I’ve no idea who won! But the drama! Th battle! The intensity of the dice bouncing across the tables!! THE MUSIC!

Before long, the Crimson’s orchestrion roll played the sad little tune it was time for us patrons to leave, but I knew Red and I would be walking on over to the House of Virtue to see what the Fates had in store for Death Dice.I wasn’t expecting some news: turns out Weavy is now the emcee of the entire event! From here on out! And she did a phenomenal job! And Lei’s hair? Ridiculous! Looked like a head o’garlic…

The night was such a fast blur that I don’t remember much of who won what - except that Red won the entirety of the Death Dice Tournament! That and House o’Virtue still doesn’t have any proper facilities…it was requested that any pissing be done outside in the bushes. Of course, I obliged, found well-hidden plot of grasses on the neighbor's lawn. Red waited nearby the gates ready to walk me home, threw me up on his shoulders and did quite a victory lap all the way to the ‘Suds. He took his leave several million gil heavier and I ran inside to feed Nibbles. What an evening!_{((OOC: session 9/4/22 RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Gift Delivered

Dear Journal,I settled on a gift - well, gifts - for Vollder: a bit of many of the suggestions offered by House o’Virtue staff and patrons:

Everything was bundled into a shipping crate and delivered by Moogle to Vollder’s estate. I do hope he enjoyed them. It’s all I could do to thank the man proper for minding Grinly as long as he did…and for takin’ in the wee pup that took a shining to the gigantic man.Words of thanks be one thing. But gifts that can be clung to and cherished? That’s something greater. I still have those green feathers gifted by that patron of The Factory late last summer. And that scrap o’parchment talking about some Sea of Clouds and a sunrise. There’s so many things…with so many memories. It’s one reason I pass out popotoes! Beloved popotoes! That, and they’re easy to grow…boundless wee orbs of joy…_{((OOC: session 9/4/22 Discord RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Amaurot Hostelry, Snails, and a Nameday

Dearest Journal,An adventure at the Amaurot Hostelry with good friends commenced this evening. Myself, Red, and Altanai all chanced to go together; well, Red and I planned on going and happened upon Altanai at the aetheryte plaza in Foundation. So, we traveled together onward, toward Cubus and the best staff Eorzea has to offer!

I had forgotten that Altanai and Red had met that very first eve he and I met when Alty, Nyx, and I went into his casino together. It was a reunion, of sorts! We walked through the blistering cold, got lost a bit even though Altanai lived in Empyreum. She didn’t have the address of the Amaurot. I didn’t recall the way, but did remember it was the large estate near the springs. That did the trick. She pointed her horns with determination and we set off. It was a bit of a hump from the gates, I asked Red if he’d carry me and quick as that I was held aloft seated upon his shoulders. By the guidance of Altanai, we soon came upon the steps of my beloved Amaurot…but alas, their front yard was lit up by pyres? What chaos would await within? If my Cubus were burnin’, I’d be upset.

I gathered Alex must’ve had his blue Whalathee crystal in his pocket as he suddenly spewed forth water and bubbles, making sure the path ahead were free of any flames. I had quite the elevated theater seat for such a spectacle. Reminds me, I must needs crack open that manual more often an renew my endeavors to learn other tricks of the Whalathee.A Viera greeted us as we stepped within…and the Viera directed us toward very hard seating at at a bench. Given the recent events with Bumpkin, I asked if there was something with a bit more…cushion to it…and we were ushered to an odd round sofa in the corner. I asked if it was alright if we ate over such a fine sofa (there was no table to hold our plates!) and Azem, ever present host that they were, conceded to our request. Gods, the couch was needed. Softer than Red’s shoulders and Bumpkin’s…well…let’s not go there.

Anyroad, as we were seated I handed the Viera a popoto, along with an introduction,. Well, a re-introduction as it seems we’d met prior - and I had just forgotten meeting Zodiark before. In exchange for my beloved popoto, he handed me a double-handful of…snails? Not even tucked away in a pouch: just about 50 snails plopped into my open palms, climbing up my sleeves and down my bodice. I…screeched as any Lalafellin would. Zodiark gave strict instructions not to eat them. They were given to him by someone named Fandaniel (apparently an old disgruntled co-worker of his skilled in the arts of dissection) for the past 7,000 years - and such beasts may be poisonous…Ah. Another madman. Mayhap the Amaurot is simply a sanctuary for those touched with madness?

Red tried to help remove the snails while Zodiark insisted these snails were not poisonous, proving so by removing one and…eating it. With a mighty crunch and a fair bit of…drippage. While I watched in disgust, a snail transferred to Alex’s face during his efforts to de-snail me. Azem insisted Zodiark help in said efforts. And where was Altanai during all of this? Mayhap snickering? Or maybe removing them from my backside? Once I was free of the sticky creatures, Zodiark removed the one from Red’s face and we once more resumed our sitting on the comfortable couch. He handed us menus, although I already knew what I wanted.Being as this was Altanai’s first time in a long while, and Red’s first time, well - ever - I waited for them to decide. May I repeat, beloved Parchment, how attentive the staff are? Zodiark reached into his pocket for a kerchief and proceeded to dab my hands and face free of snail-goop, as well as the bit of slime that traced upon Red’s face. There was a wink and a promise that next he gifted me with snails, they’d be cooked and in a pouch. There was another loud crunch as I could only presume he devoured another unfortunate snail.I heard someone mention Prim’s name, but I couldn’t see her from my perch. As I called out to say hello, suddenly I was hoisted up into the air and placed on Zodiark’s shoulders. Of all the days to ride high, this was it! Gods, he was tall. And there she was, waving from across the room, surrounded by patrons and she was busy. Once I said waved my hullos, I tapped the Viera gently with my foot and asked to be placed back down on the couch. As he did so, it appeared Red was ready to order. Hells, we all were. Food and drinks were ordered all around, including my favored Cubus:Red ordered a pretzel, elpis noodles, and a sylphic shock.
Altanai ordered…just a beverage: the gunblade.
And I ordered my usual Capitol with grilled dodo, extra grapes, and the rolanberry mojito - even though my Miqo’te wasn’t behind the bar.

Prim swung by for a proper hello was Zodiark shifted off to place our order. It turns out the lovely Prim and I matched, top to bottom. Great minds think alike; aye? It wasn’t long before she was pulled away on duties, but I was pleased she was able to make a few minutes to meet Red and Altanai - although she may have already met Alty when we first showed up at the Amaurot. And, hell, for all I know mayhap Red met all the staff when he bumped into them at the Gold Saucer? I didn’t ask…Turns out Azem made my mojito! And, I daresay it was a piece of art…don’t tell Emet-Selch, Journal, but it was a pretty little thing: there were bobbing rolanberry halves instead of the smashed ones, a plop of whipped cream floating atop covered in pink sprinkles…with a little straw that made the most delightful humming sound as I sipped from it.As I smiled and sipped through the vibrating straw, Red confessed to them that he had extinguished a few of the blazes out front to ensure our safe passage to the front door. Azem didn’t seem to mind, stating they could always make more. And just then? Zodiark returned with our platefuls of food.As I insisted on paying for the meals of my friends, Alty insisted on sliding a sackful of gil to Zodiark for the tip. He slipped her a dried snail in return…some sign of friendship or somewhat. Like a popoto among friends! Or, as Red often does: a Fate Token to patrons. Gifts. All the gifts!Alex’s face as he took a sip of his Sylphic Shock was amazing; I don’t think he was expecting it to be as strong as it was. I mean mine was good, too, but you could just see the alcohol seep into his bloodstream. He asked for some water and we waited for staff to come back around. I watched Alty sip her beverage and I inquired if she ate the snail as Zodiark had done. No. Would she? Oh how I begged. And she continued to say no. Our little debate was interrupted once more by Red asking for water. So I hopped down to find Azem or Zodiark or someone who would be able to fetch a glass.

I found both of them...heavily engrossed in some conversation about cuddling after sex, trusting one’s partner, talking into pillows, and why it is so important. I didn’t want to interrupt, so stood quietly and waited when I do believe my presence was suddenly noticed and I scared the Viera - well, they were both Viera. Let’s be specific, Journal - I frightened Zodiark. Gods, how he jumped and screamed for the Twelve. I do believe my shirt hid me from his sight - it being the same hue as the furnishings and Azem’s gown. In his defense, as he said, I am small. Aye. I am…I felt bad for interrupting - but asked for that water and as Zodiark bowed and stepped away, Azem kept me aside and handed me a wee parcel for the “inconvenience” of me having to leave my couch in search of water. I tried to explain it was no inconvenience. Anyroad, within the parcel: a squishy, sentient pile of shite. Well, after I got home, I learned it was not shite but rather mud. It still lives in the box. I know not what to do with such a gift…

By the time I made it back to our couch, Zodiark was there with a few tankards of water…standing exactly where I deemed to sit…so I waited. I didn’t have to wait long before he suddenly noticed my presence, swore a mighty crass word, and nearly spilled my water. Twice. Twice in one visit I have scared a very tall, snail-eating Viera whose name starts with a Z…I suggested mayhap he eat a snail…to which Alty countered I should eat the snail. She still hadn’t eaten her snail…but I’ve no qualms to shove something into my mouth at least once in my life.I watched as he popped another snail into his gaping maw and chewed with ferocious crunching sounds. Alty sipped on her Gunblade, and I daresay we were all feeling a bit of the booze in our blood. Anyroad, she insisted I eat a snail. I asked her for hers, but Zodiark handed me my very own dried snail. If he could eat 'em, so could I. Although he did say they tasted as a small sacrifice across his tongue? Why would anyone say such a thing. Mayhap ‘cause his snails were still alive as he tossed ‘em down his gullet. And mine was a dry, shriveled thing. How’d he put it? Dead. So I didn’t feel the pain of having killed a thing. How very gracious of him.

Anyroad, Altanai was chanting “Eat it, eat it, eat it,” and she could have been referring to my dead snail or Red as he nearly inhaled his Cubus. But, I pinched my nose, tossed in the snail, and sipped through my hummy straw. Rolanberry mojito snail. The mojito was about the only nice thing there was…there wasn’t any slime as the wee creature had been dried-up, but the crunch of the shell? I knew it was coming - just wasn’t expecting it to curdle my stomach. I…had just eaten a wee beast of the gardens. But - it wasn’t that bad. I daresay Zodiark looked pleased at my success and courage. I blew my beautiful mojito-snail breath back into his face, expressing my appreciation…although such a gesture wasn’t much appreciated as his nose twitched and wrinkled. I suggested mayhap snails be added to the menu, but likely not.I spied Red’s plate as I sat - not one bit of Cubus remained. Damnit - I was looking to steal a bite. But Altanai? Oh, she sort of beamed at Zodiark, took a huge swig of her beverage and tossed her snail into her mouth with a crunch. She actually said it tasted of coffee. I wonder if that snail lingered upon her tongue at all or it she swallowed it nearly whole. It in no way resembled the flavor of coffee to me! Red continued to drink his water…Gods, how she winked at him. Alty. At Zodiark. Mayhap the snail-gift was more than just a sign of friendship; aye? Anyroad, he made some remark about folks wanting to impress a primal. I saw no primal anywhere. He offered to feed us live snails now. Well, not us - he stated he’d like to see Altanai eat a live snail…I commented that she’d made quite the impression on the waitstaff for just having met, but turns out they’d met once before in Ul’dah! Along with Emet-Selch’s Other! I’m not sure if it was my beloved barkeep or the Viera Other…but now I know why she and Zodiark seemed to hit it off so well. Fast friends already!Red sort of stared into his glass of water and I asked if he’d eat a snail. Gods, his slurred “schnample of a delishus schnail?” was comical. Aye. His sylphic shock had certainly done a number on him. He said yes! Zodiark overheard and offered another dead snail. Altanai still insisted they tasted of coffee. I knew better, and the burp that launched from my mouth must’ve reminded Zodiark as well since he offered to fetch us all mints after Alex finished his snack. To the chanting of “Eat it, eat it, eat it” betwixt Altana and myself, Red held the thing in the palm of his hand and suddenly flicked a long, sticky tongue from his mouth and snagged the snail, roping it right into his mouth with a loud crunch. Ah, the Whalathee Ways!!!I do believe we all watched him go from his already-pale Hyur hue to paler until he almost took a tint of green…someone nearby named Aulus devoured a snail they too he’d been gifted…and Zodiark ran for a bucket to launch into Red’s hands just before he blew chunks. Elpis noodles, sauce, my beloved figgy cubus, alcohol, and a bit of snail shell I’m certain must’ve floated within. Altanai had shrieked and hidden behind the other side of the couch before he spewed such flavors.Zodiark was such a comfort to my best friend as he patted Alex’s back, coaxing any remaining ichor to come out. And indeed, more filled the bucket. Poor Alex. Altanai continued to shield her beautiful black dress from any splashback. And a small crowd had gathered around. That Aulus fellow appeared - amused? Or mayhap fascinated? Anyroad, Zodiark must’ve done something nice and comfortable ‘cause Red stood up, holding the bucket. I think he was done hurling? Azem marched over…shite. I offered to pay for any cleaning to be done, but Zodiark insisted he’d manage. Azem simply insisted on taking Zodiark’s snails. All of them. Altanai’s cackle rang from behind the pillar - gods, I do believe she was piss-drunk off her arse. No one seemed upset at Alex’s loss of … let’s just say appetite … rather, they were relieved he seemed to be standing at all. Zodiark seemed saddened at the loss of his beloved snails, but Azem offered either to return them after the Hostelry had closed for the eve - or to set up a proper home for them somewhere on the property.

Azem asked if they could somehow inspect Red for any sort o’sickness…so he set down the bucket, which was immediately picked up by that Aulus fellow. I do fear he - how do I even say it? Collected a sample of Alex’s vomit…why would anyone do that? Anyroad, someone asked Aulus if he had a scanner of magitek to scan for poisoning.

Now that doesn’t make a gal worrisome. Shite. Poison? Didn’t Zodiark say that Fandaniel fellow had tried to poison him? Anyroad, Red most certainly wasn’t looking comfortable with the idea of any scanners or probes,so instead I offered to make sure he made it home safely. Azem handed over a small vial of some tincture, just in case things seemed to worsen or … strange symptoms occurred. Plus, I was given the open invitation to reach them on their tomestone, if needed. I…don’t have a tombstone, nor know how to use one, but I didn’t tell them that. Figured I can reach the Amaurot staff by moogle or ‘pearl. In exchange, I gave Azem a popoto from my bodice. Small popotoes, mind you, as the bodice was…tight. And then I handed one to the fellow with the scanner. Node? Probe? Whatever the hells it was. The look on his face: he’s now had a snail, a scanner, and a popoto. All in one evening. Before Red and I left, at the protest of a drunken Altanai, I had one more surprise from Zodiark.He gave me a fang. Why? And from what? Mayhap a bat - anyroad, I’ve no idea. And no idea what to do with it? It sits in the drawer next to my bed, neighbors with my egg Olive. Odd gifts from mad folks at the Amaurot. I heard Zodiark apologize for the snails…and I do believe he also called me a little scary popoto…I think that’s the first time in my life anyone’s ever called me scary.Oh gods, Journal! I almost forgot! While I was herding Red out of the Amaurot, I mentioned Ume’s name, you know - to encourage him to stay strong through whatever ailments he was feeling. Ume and Sasha were home, waiting for him. I heard Altanai screech from the couch, “Ume…?!” Remind me to talk to her - not the same Ume as the mysterious Ume of our past. Well, I assume not. Surnames are different…but then again…surnames can be altered; aye?Once outside, it was just Red and I, hand in hand walking down the path of pyres. I suggested a stop by the pools since they were nearby, asking if he could fly. He seemed…confused. Mayhap the snail? Or the alcohol? But he had left both in the bucket in Zodiark’s hands…Or my poor choice of words -

So, I walked him to the edge of the Amaurot’s property and pointed to the lion statute and pools below. He quickly picked me up, placed me across his shoulders, and in the flash of some magic, we were suddenly standing in the pools I had just gazed down upon. He set me down into the warmer waters…turns out the Whalathee called that spell “Loom.” I must needs pick up that manual anon!As we literally soaked in the pools (clothes and all), the conversation of namedays came up since there’d been plenty of cake within the Hostelry this evening. Turns out Alex has no idea when his true nameday is. Aye - that amnesia. I should have known better than to ask. But - Mami and Ben had found him four summers prior - on this very day. So he celebrates his nameday on the third day of the Fifth Astral Moon. Today. Of all days. His fake nameday - and I have him hurling in a bucket…Shite.All I had on me was another popoto in me bodice. So, of course, I handed it to him. He declared he’d plant it, allowing it to sprout endless popotoes! It’s what popotoes are good for. I also tried to give him the bloom from behind my ear as it is the flower of his namesake…the Desert Paintbrush…or Prairie Flame…or whatever the name was. Shite. I shall have to find that entry pages back. Anyroad, he asked that I keep it tucked behind my ear so he may gaze upon it there rather than hidden from sight on his lapel. Good answer. I obliged and wriggled the stem back into my hair.

The two of us. Drunk. In the pools of Empyreum…on his fake nameday. The chill began to set in, and he offered to take us both back to Shirogane. More teleport magics. It pays to have a friend who’s talented in such ways. In the blink of an eye, we were in front of the Shimizu estate in Shirogane. He carried me inside, promptly brought me downstairs, and winked at the pools in their bedroom. Aye. The warm one would be much better than the one exposed to the cold elements of Ishgard.Ume and Sasha were nowhere to be found; mayhap they were out on one of her long nature walks, even at this ungodly hour. I couldn’t stay long as I knew Bumpkin would be up at the ‘Suds after House of Virtue closed. But a soak in a nice hot tub with Red? That needed to happen. While I waited by the pools, Red got changed into his swimtrunks…of course I watched his nameday-arse bob around as he first removed, then donned, his attire. He procured from a bottom drawer a swimsuit that appeared just my size. Now - where did that come from? I didn’t ask, but quickly changed into it.Mayhap nudity wasn’t a thing in the Shimizu household…yet…? Mayhap it was and modesty was just the word of the sun?We climbed into the hot tub; the heat of the water soothed so many aches in my legs and…other areas. No thanks to Bumpkin! Anyroad, Red surely caught the notion of my tenderness and cracked a crass joke about Weavy having a sibling if we’re not careful. I explained that I had requested Badge pull out and paint the sheets rather than my inners.Gods, his laugh. Infectious and forever-genuine. Alex expressed he was sincerely happy for the both of us. And I know he meant it. We also expressed mutually our affections for one another still lingered - and the thought of coupling as Badge and I had - although not tonight. We were drunk. Or even if sobering a little, we had been drinking. And the vow we made prior? If we are to couple, we must needs both be sober. Gods, then the conversation shifted to if we were to actually do the deed, where would be our first time? He suggested his flyin’ chair - ha. Can you imagine it? No slippin’ off during the act….OR the hot springs where he first took me to visit after I toured the Shimizu estate. We’ve both been blessed by those who live inside the bubble under the Ruby Sea…so it could be a bit of fun rutting beneath the hot waters of Shirogane Springs. I loved that idea ‘cause gods that view, but suggested he’d need to find a way to block the entrance so no one could sneak up on is during the act. He suggested bribing folks to keep watch. Well, we’ll see. I told him that even if we were to neve rut, I’d still long to be his friend. Forever and always. Rutting or no rutting, Alexander Shimizu; my beloved friend and boss; Red…he was stuck with me by his side. He stated I’d never lose him. Not to circumstances or lovers or naught. I, too, was stuck with him.Good. As it should be.

All this talk of love and friendship I do fear coaxed a confession from Red. The coin toss at the House of Virtue to decide who would walk me home? It was rigged by tricky wording. Either way the coin landed, Bumpkin was to walk me home. Heads Badge takes me home. Tails Red doesn’t take me home. Alex rigged the whole thing. And to make matters more weighed to the evening’s outcome? He paid Tori for Badge’s time - for the rest of the evening - so Badge didn’t have to return to the House of Virtue. And Badge knew it!Why in the seven hells would he do such a thing? Because he loves me. Such was plainly stated with a soft kiss upon my lips. And while he didn’t actually know Badge and I would…you know…Alex was happy I had finally done such. And he voiced a rather nameday thought that mayhap he and I could do such ourselves one sun. Well, we did have our “We Must Needs Be Sober” vow - and the deed had been done; my field plowed, so to speak! But given the conversations Badge and I have had about how he only ruts for love, his past relationship and experiences - I didn’t think he’d be one to take lightly of an open-arrangement such as Ume and Alex had. Although, Badge and I hadn’t even been dating. It was rutting…thrice over, Bumpkin and I. All lust, no love. Mayhap Red and I could sober up betwixt my pining for Zototo and figurin’ out what Badge and I had. But tonight was not that night.Although…there was a lingering kiss. It was far deeper than that of our friendly passing of lips in the past. A bit of passion. It spoke secrets without using words. Ah, sweet alcohol and confessions and steamy waters. I pried myself free and asked if there was aught I could get him for his nameday other than the popoto. He smiled and suggested my query came dangerously close to having implications - and instead offered me a gift. He leapt from the pool and dripped to the bedroom, once more opening a drawer and coming back with something in his hands.A small metal cylinder. And a matching little metal box. At first, I thought it was some fancy tiny orchestrion roll. But he handed it to me…saying it was now mine and gifting such would bring him happiness on his nameday. Nay; it as not a roll of tunes - rather a piece of magitek, he said (likely Garlean in creation). But, if ye hold the cylinder and press one of three buttons on the box, the damn thing buzzes much like my Olive. Except this one - it can fit within my inners…rather than just rest upon the outside. I remember leaning forward into my own kiss of thanks, deeper, which I tasted his lips for more than a moment. My head swam with visions of hot springs and cubus and silver metal rods and Alex and Bumpkin and Zototo.Gods, I was a mess. After a little more conversation, I took my leave. Bumpkin was more than likely already at the ‘Suds and I had needs to tend to…that I couldn’t tend with Red. By the gods. Happy Nameday to you, Red. Indeed…I do hope he and Ume celebrated right proper when she got home._{((OOC: session 9/3/22 in-game RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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House of Virtue and An Evening to Remember, Part 2

Dear Journal,Alright, beloved Parchment, I’ve a new quill. It’s so sharp the tip nearly slices right through ye! Anyroad, where was I? Oi…this next bit has been a bit retold by Bumpkin as I don’t remember up to a certain point.Apparently, Badge’s Dawnstar had hit rather hard - I remember it being strong. BUT - Red had apparently asked when I was leaving to make sure I made it home alright. Badge was sitting right next to me, maybe to make sure I didn’t topple over? Hells if I know. Anyroad, Alex flipped a coin and Badge walked me home! Even though he had to work at the House!Aw, the Fates. No more tellin’ than a toss of the gil deciding if my beloved Red or the sweet Badge would escort my very drunken arse back to Sweep ‘n Suds. Badge says we rode my farty antelope back to the ‘Suds, but I’ve no memory of it…and that Red asked that we pass his regards on to the resting Hephepli.

I’ve no memory of the ride back. But I’ll tell ya what sobers a Lala right up. Falling flat on her arse not once, but thrice trying to scale a wall to show Badge where Hep was discovered. THRICE. That hard of a knock on the bum jars a woman right-sober it does. So there I was, at the House of Virtue - and then suddenly - there I was on the grasses of my own yard, staring up at Bumpkin as he stood upon Virtue, extending a hand to help me up. Farfnir was lumbering around the yard, untethered, contented to just eat the long-grasses in along the edges of the property.Gods. It stunk of Hep’s sweat and shite still. If Altanai hadn’t of sniffed her out, who knows how long she would have stayed beneath that shrub. Badge searched around for any clues of who’d do such a thing, but found no evidence of the ruffian or ruffians either. He expressed concern for my safety, but I let him know naught in the Estate was shuffled around. Just Hep. And that Razvigor, my loyal Hrothgar retainer, was standing in her stead outside. He may be a bit daft with figures, but he’s big and intimidating to the eye.We slipped back over the wall and I introduced the two fellas. And then Badge insisted he must needs return to the House. My house was right there. Gods, he looked good standing there…My arse was sore and tender from the falls, but the drunkenness had mostly left my senses by then. So, what other reason would I have to grab the blonde Lala by the ears and pull him into a kiss? Naught but gut impulse. Gods. He wrapped an arm around my waist and held me close, returning the embrace…

Then he pulled away, babbling on about my being drunk. I wasn’t drunk anymore. Was I? Mayhap a little…I insisted we could at least kiss, and he drew me closer for a second one! A SECOND ONE!!! I invited him inside to check on Hep’s well-being before he returned to the casino.Thank the gods, he agreed - we walked in, hand-in-hand, fingers entwined. Journal, his touch was so warm. I babbled on about needing to make an actual formal report with the Immortal Flames rather than the guard that stands near the housing district, while I pulled him into the ‘Suds. Badge agreed that they should step up patrols, especially if such events were occurring in my literal backyard.

Then I remember watching him blush as I told him Hephepli was downstairs…in my bed. Gods! I pointed him downstairs and as soon as he turned passed the threshold and down the steps, I locked the front door and flung the key across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed behind the drying furnace. Hahahaha!!!

He was mine…There would be no returning to the House of Virtue this eve! I found him downstairs, frowning at the sleeping Lalafell in my bed. Said she was dehydrated, still resting (I could have told him that), but he was more worried for her…how’d he phrase it? Her psyche. Badge even suggested mayhap Dave could offer some counsel, other than just to chocoboes. I’ll be sure to reach out to him should Hep feel she needs someone to talk to. After he made sure Hep had a nice cool cloth on her forehead, I told Chirurgeon Dawnstar that my forehead hurt.

He kissed it for me. I pointed to my cheek. He kissed it. He wrapped his arms around my waist, closing the space betwixt ourselves…gods, he felt good. Warm. Delicious. I pointed to my lips and closed the gap, kissing him square on the mouth myself. It was magic if I do say so myself…his warmth increased, as if the sun were in my very room.

And I swear there were sparkling glitter swirling about. I remember mumbling some romantic stuff…he muttered back something extra cheesy…I twirled a finger around his little braid behind his ear. And pulled off that scarf around his neck. I confessed I’d never lain with another…as he allowed me to unbutton his coat and it fell to the floor with his scarf at our feet. Needless to say, the dance of undoing attire continued betwixt tender kisses. Badge hurled my parachute of a yellow dress behind him and it landed atop the sleeping Hephepli; she remained unawares in her state of slumber.And she remained so, through the evening that he and I shared, nary sleeping - just enjoying each other’s company and all that such implied. I shall spare you the details, but gods, it was beautiful. And ‘tis a good thing Uncle’s bed is massive as Hep slept in her wee edge of the bed and he and I shared the rest of the monstrosity.My bladder awoke me this morning and I crawled out of the bed to use the facilities and whisper to Red on his linkpearl the details of the evening. Well, not the details…but the gist. He…already knew. I swear to the Twelve, he’s touch with knowing the future. His advice? To get off my ‘pearl and head back into bed for more snuggles and cuddles…which, I course, heeded. And, which of course, led to more activities of the previous evening…And yet, Hep continued to rest. Undisturbed…There was a conversation of no regrets. Both of us were sober…enough…making the decision to pair as we did. I drew us a bath as he prepared us some form of breakfast. He even prepared a small bowl of oatmeal for Hep, noting she had begun to stir some. As we washed away any evidence of the evening and morning’s pleasures, we spoke of our choices. I had no untoward feelings. And neither did he, although he had previously disclosed that such an act as ours he often generally does for Love. But, still, knowing we weren’t at that point, he had no regrets…Well, that led to another round of No Regrets in the tub, and we made a righteous mess sloshing water.He leapt out of the tub as the scent of our burning breakfast wafted down from the kitchenette. He also noticed that Hep had begun to awaken more. Wrapped in a towel, he fed her oatmeal as I tidied up the bathroom. She’s so used to seeing my flesh around the Estate, I cared not.After breakfast, which he somehow salvaged, we made a proper report of Hep’s assault to the Immortal Flames. And eventually, he made his way out of Goblet and onward…but I knew I’d see him anon.I hurriedly got back onto my linkpearl with Red to gossip about the day. Ever the Journal he be…Moreso than you, beloved tome._{((OOC: session 9/2/22 in-game RP & Discord RP 9/3/22; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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House of Virtue and An Evening to Remember

Dearest Journal,Last evening was a swirl of unexpected events. Once the Chirurgeon tended to Hep after I left, and I made a report to the ‘Flames, I ended up at the House of Virtue for a bit of drink to forget the day. Grinly was on the counter next to Vollder, but not long before Tori cast glare and The Golden Nugget shooed the pup home.

Mara and her lovely Lyn were there, too! As was Lana. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already lost her gil to the dealers or was just…mourning at the bar like I would be shortly. Badge was there, too - working behind the bar next to The ‘Nugget.Speaking of Vollder, I was there on a mission! To collect as much intel as I could regarding his likes so I could surprise him with a thank you gift.

Mara was the first ear I bent…ha. That’s funny - ‘cause she’s got long ears. Anyroad, where was I? Ah, yes: the mission! I let her know that Badge already suggested alcohol, but I was looking for something more personal. She agreed: alcohol would likely be the last thing he’d need for a thank ye gift. She begged time to think of something and would let me know.

Lyn spied us whispering and cast us a mischievous wink. I headed to her next…and bent the same inquiry in whisper to her. Ha! She asked if it was his nameday; not that I knew of. As she thought, suddenly Dave wandered down the stairs looking dapper as ever. I mayhap exploded right next to Lyn’s ear in my delight…Oi, anyroad - Lyn didn’t seem to mind my excitement and whispered back that mayhap Vollder would like a small new pet. That way my gift would always be with me. An excellent idea!I watched as Dave suddenly turned to head back upstairs, so I hightailed it up to follow him, but he was suddenly beckoned back downstairs by Tori to work the tables. I barely missed him spinning on his heels as I turned to follow him. And much to my delight, there was Peekers waiting at the fountain below.

Oh, I bet he had a mighty suggestion! Just as I was about to whisper my inquiry, Tori stood at his side. Of course, work first…I acquiesced and searched for someone else to accost. JoJo sat at the bar…all alone. Looking like he needed a conversation. I waved howdy to Bumpkin, watched Peekers disappear upstairs, and was advised that Au ra had no ears: but rather, they hear out of their horns? Well, if not all Au ra, at least him. So, I whispered into that rough horn of his…asking what he’d suggest as a gift for The Golden Nugget; and not alcohol. May I just say that whispering into a bit of bone or whatever the seven hells makes up a horn - well ‘tis awkward. Normally I can nestle a nose or mouth into a nook to confirm no words escape. But a horn? Nay. Naught more than whispering to one’s finger or toe. Anyroad, JoJo suggested mayhap a nice, fancy, large axe. Vollder apparently loves his weaponry. An if not a weapon I cannot carry; mayhap something nautical to remind him of his time at sea. More splendid suggestions!I turned my attentions onward to Badge, who was just lingering behind the bar and I ordered a Dawnstar. Farnir’s Farts, he makes them strong. Peach, pineapple, mango, and booze…I felt that alcohol go straight to my stomach and warm my entire body in my first gulp. I grabbed my tankard and made my way upstairs on the prowl for Peekers. Gods! On my way up, Mara pulled me back with a call of my name. She had her idea??

She asked if liked fashion. But of course; who doesn’t? Anyroad, she and Lyn sat side-by-side, as adorable as lovebirds could be. She asked what I noticed betwixt the two of them fashion-wise. Well, Mara wore her usual pink. And Lyn her usual purples. And then, I realized: their shoes matched. And their trousers. AND THEIR SHIRTS! I thought I had gotten it, but Mara prodded me further, pointing toward her hair. Gods! They had swapped their usual colors in their hair accessories! Mara wore purple. And Lyn wore pink! So cute! There was one more thing, she said. I looked ‘em up and down…then down and up. They had painted their nails: again Mara in purple and Lyn in pink. So cute. A complete picture of matching-and mix-matching. Ahhh, lovebirds. That deserved a cheers…and another sip of Badge’s Dawnstar. Seven hells! Straight to my head! Had he made it extra strong?

I burped as I made my way back upstairs in search of the one and only Peekers. And there he was, standing ever vigilant at the door to greet incoming guests. I shoved my face right into his ear, burped, and made my inquiry same as downstairs. I - I had to explain who The Nugget was. How does one not know who The Golden Nugget is? Shite. Anyroad, he was yapping on too loudly so I insisted he whisper and I daresay the tip of my ear shoved up his nostril. Nobody needs a sneezy Lala in their ear, Peekers. I shan’t forget…Before he could respond, Graeskar walked in through the door.

So what was one to do with an eartip in another’s nostril? I greeted him. I bet Graeskar would know what Vollder wanted. Peekers sneezed again as I withdrew my precious ears and pulled on Graeskar’s coat until he sat down on the floor. Perfect whispering height. Anyroad, I asked the massive man what I should get the other massive man as a thank ye gift. He took up the foyer’s limited space while sprawled out on the floor. Pray, no other guests arrived before he answered…All he could think of was a high quality spirit. Ah, more liquor. Okay, so the man appreciates good libation. Mayhap that’s why he’s a barkeep?

Tori wandered upstairs and handed Peekers a napkin’ for his sniffling and sneezing nose. Gods, I bet she would know!! After she handed Sneezing Peekers the tissue, I blurted right up into her face and asked what she’d get Vollder! Well, I think I managed to still whisper it. I remember her asking how much I had to drink - I held up my tankard of half-leftover Dawnstar…speaking of drinks; I watched Graeskar disappear down the stairs. Blessed hulk of a creature! Anyroad, back to Mistress Tori! She suggested a large cask of Limsan Rum, but only the best quality. I asked if she knew aught else. He’s a “simple man” who likes what he likes. Aye. Just as she was whispering he likes his axes, Alex strolled on in through the doors. I threw him a wink and a smile as Tori continued to whisper: snag him some sharpening stones for his axes. Although don’t mention his age or buy him a date - or something like that - ‘cause his wife’s left him. I didn’t even know he was married! Poor fella. Anyroad, she suggested the gift be kept simple, whatever it was I settled on.

I turned my gaze back to Peekers…he’d have enough time to think; aye? He agreed with JoJo’s suggestion of a nice axe. I thanked him and asked which way Alex had gone: downstairs; of course. Got down there just time to catch Red ordering a Dawnstar himself. Gods, I wonder if it was as strong as mine? Anyroad, I had hailed him on his ‘pearl earlier about Hep, but we spoke of her a bit at the bar. She’d not yet woken by the time I got to the HOV, but when she did, I’d have plenty of questions.

I blew a burp away from his face and whispered into Red’s ear, asking if he had any suggestions for a present for Vollder. At that very moment, Tori made an announcement about the upcoming Death Dice tournament - and I shrieked DICE right into Red’s ear. Whoops. I’m excited! It’s coming up!! Red suggested I get The ‘Nugget something…fashionable. Which made me turn my head and stare at the lovely Lyn and Mara once more. Mayhap not something pink or purple…but fashionable! The sheer scale of Vollder, though, may make something hard to find in his size. But it’s better than the ongoing suggestion of libation.I drained the last of my Dawnstar, hiccupped, and begged Bumpkin to take it away. That started a whole cackling of folk at the bar. Tori begrudged everyone for their coarse language and this settled…

Now, who was next? I’d seen Doc at a few Death Dice tournaments, so mayhap they’d know? I bounced my way over to the leather sofas and poked them with a hiss. Doc actually apologized for not being fully aware - well, of the two of us? I’d say the Miqo’te had their wits about them better than I. Anyroad, back to the questions! Gods, how the furry ear tickled. Seeing as The Golden Nugget be a rock, mayhap a gemstone of some type would be in order. I never would have thought of such a thing! Splendid ideas!I took my leave and joined Red at Dave’s table. I figured if there was going to be any way of asking the dealer a question, I’d have to lose some gil. I politely waited my turns, watching folks win and lose…and finally, I was up! Well, I leaned in and whispered as I rolled the dice. And he responded as I lost…shite! Anyroad, Dave was too busy to think on it and would gather some ideas and get back to me. And onward around the table he went, winning and losing and winning and losing…I winked once more at Red and stepped away from the tables.Gods, the room spun. I met Bumpkin at the bar and asked for a glass of water, which he obliged. Well, I asked for two and brought the second to Alex, who seemed far less drunk than I - despite having downed his Dawnstar. Mayhap all the stress of finding Hep broke me down?As for…the rest of the tale? It should wait for a sharper quill. This ones gone soft at the head…’tis no good for writing. I’ll be back anon with a fresh feather and a tip-top tip!_{((OOC: session 9/2/22 in-game RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Surprise After Surprise

Dear Journal,I walked out of the door o’the Suds this morning and who would be out there except Altanai! Just…standing at my door about to knock as I opened the door to leave. It was nearly comical. You know, sweet parchment, that she’s got a house Goblet in a nearby ward! Anyroad, she…simply came by to show me something magical.She snapped her fingers…and a wee mammet of an angry man appeared. Gods, his hair looked like that of Emet-Selch at the Amaurot Hostelry…that half-popoto-half-snowy blend of hues. Anyroad, she snapped her fingers again and the wee disappointed mammet vanished. Just as I ran to her side to see where it had vanished, she caught sight of my face.Shite. I thought she’d already seen this? Once more, I began to explain the tale of the cave with Moon in search of my Uncle’s ending - and the run in with the man-fish-monster…and that meant it’s been at least two moons since I’ve seen Altanai? Shite. Far too long…well, the scars were healing well. I’m glad she didn’t see them while the wounds were fresh.We spoke more about her new estate and how the renovations were coming along. Very exciting news indeed. Which led to talk of gil…and gods! Altanai hadn’t even heard I’d won the Triad tournament and Death Dice tournament and amassed quite a small fortune myself! It was wonderful just sitting out on the bench with her, catching up. I invited her to join me at the House of Virtue tonight, stretch those gambling habits we used to share, when a breeze kicked up and her nose twitched.

She asked if smelled aught amiss. I smelled naught more than the beautiful desert blooms. She wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow. She stood and kept sniffing. I, naturally, stood up and followed her curiously as she complained about a lingering stench of shite in the air. Like a honeybee to a flower, she climbed up on my fence and suddenly mumbled, “Oh Gods…”I’ll never forget it: “Oh…Gods…”

I couldn’t see shite. Damn my tall fence and my short legs. She lifted me up. I couldn’t see anything amiss until she pointed toward the large plant that bordered my fence line. There - there lay Hephepli Hepli. My friend and trusted retainer!Hands tied behind her back, her ankles tied together, and the whole of her bound to that confounded desert aloe; large enough to conceal her form from anyone not specifically standing right where we stood. She had a gag in her mouth and a scrap of cloth blinding her eyes. She’d obviously been there at least a sun-and-a-half…poor woman’s trousers were coated in her own filth. And she nary responded to our hails with more than just a weak moan. OH GODS, Journal! The gag that bound her tongue? Once we were able to remove it, I realized it was one of Sasha’s stained nappies. Clean, mind you, but stained indeed. Mayhap torn from the laundry pole nearby?

Who would do this? Why would they? Well, now was not the time to ask such questions. Altanai took out a small dagger and cut Hep free, then picked her up as if she was a wee babe and carried her within the ‘Suds as I fretted over whom to call. I felt so bad! Here I thought she was just out on some sun-long errand. How long had she baked in the sun beneath those fronds?I found my own way down the fence as Altanai was already inside and growled at Razvigor (who had taken over the stool sales for the sun in Hep’s absence) to keep an eye out and to be aware of any shenanigans afoot.I traced Altanai’s path into my estate and down the stairs - she had already placed Hep onto my Uncle’s bed. When she saw me, she demanded to know who this Lalafell was and why where they bound next to my house.

I took a moment to explain Hep and mine’s friendship, then business arrangement, her helping me run our share of the stool sales in Goblet, as well as her assistance in my cleaning business as I need it. But gods, who did this? And why? Answers would be had! I’ve friends in high places. And rich friends, too!I ran up to the kitchenette to get Hep a glass of water and asked Altanai if she’d like anything stronger mayhap for herself. Gods. How she sounded angry when she responded. She demanded to know what sort of trouble I’d gotten myself into.First, my face: the scars, my clouded eye. Then a discovery of my retainer bound and gag for nearly two suns, cast aside just beyond my wall. She insinuated that a lot has changed. That I’d changed.Farfnir’s Farts - we’re going to have this discussion right now? I explained the scars and the eye were from once incident. And I was saved before I was eaten. Then I couldn’t stop blabbing…and brought up Zototo and the fact that I hadn’t heard from him in three moons…my letters go unanswered or undelivered. And we talked of this while Hep had a cool cloth across her forehead and we tried to get her to sip on some water.Altanai’s angered tone softened. As did her face. She sat me down upon the edge of my own bed and took my hands in her own. And…she let me know that Zototo had left without giving anyone any notice. No letter. No whereabouts. No plan…he was just gone one day. Well, I had known that he was off to train with his Mentor in the Wilderness. But, apparently, he may have just…left and not even done that?Gone. She said he was just…gone…My linkpearl suddenly buzzed that there was a great need of launderin’. I can’t even recall which client needed me or why, but thankfully Altanai offered to stay and keep watch over Hep. I offered to pay her for her time and a reward for finding my Hep, but she declined my gil. Good ol’ Altanai. Always there. Always.I hailed the Chirurgeon on my way out the door and yelled to Razvigor to let them in when they arrived…and left the fate of my friend in the hands of others. I also made a hastened report to the ‘Flames guard on my way out of Goblet…_{((OOC: session 9/2/22 in-game RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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A Conversation in Ishgard

Dearest Journal,So, I followed Weavy’s advice and visited Ishgard to talk to Badge. Gods, I hate the cold. Anyroad, there was Bumpkin just standing in the front yard behind a desk. Perfect. This would be done and over with quickly.Except the swiving arse wouldn’t respond. Just stared at me. Smiling. There were two of ‘em. Mayhap ‘twas like the Amaurot where there were Others of one another. Emet-Selch and Emet-Selch; Badge and Badge?So, I kept yapping. Explained I was there to discuss my attempts to reach Zototo and just as I was about to mention Weavy’s suggestion that he and I talk, I suddenly heard his voice behind me…there were three Badge Dawnstars? How was I to verify which was the real Bumpkin? I asked the speaking one to tell me one thing that the real Badge Dawnstar would know about me.Shite. The answer: I keep you, beloved Journal, in my fishtank. Well, not anymore I don’t. Apparently the other two Silent Badges are just mammets - pure puppets - falsehoods. Mayhap to scare crows? Or burglars? Anyroad, Badge was dressed in some finery - said he’d have a meeting later that day with folks in Ishgard trying to open the diner. In need of paperwork and permits. Boring stuff…

He ushered me inside the estate out of the cold - although it was fun to watch our breath blend into one cloud of icy fog. He went to a massive wall of books, pulled some tome or pushed some hidden device and a door sprung open. He had private chambers…private chamber! Weavy will murder me…Anyroad, he offered me food, but I was afraid I’d vomit with how nervous I was. He sat on the couch and I sat across the room in the swing paissa chair like Red’s got at the Shimizu estate. I smoothed my dress down as I settled into the cushions, the chair batting me around a moment. And the talk-that-must-needs-be-had was had.

I kept having to ask him to look at me as we spoke. How he favored the tips of his toes over my eyes. Rude. Anyroad, I asked how much of my journal he’d read - I mean, mayhap I didn’t even have to talk about Zototo - mayhap he already knew just from me writings. Nay, he said he found it while feeding Cob ‘n Lin, then opened to a random entry about the UACT Initiative before realizing it was my private thoughts and snapped it shut, replacing it in it’s wee waterproof sheathe against the inner-lid.

Shite. He still wouldn’t look up at me, so I made him. I crawled out of that comfortable hovering chair and sat next to him on the couch. And just let it all out, like Weavy said: that I stilled wished to wait for Zototo, but time was waning, and if he really wanted to reach me: he’d find a way. Well that did it. He removed his fancy glove and took my hand in his. He acknowledged feelings had started to grow from friendship to something deeper that night we watched fireworks from Virtue.I confessed that although I still harbored love for Zototo, I too had stirrings for Badge. And it’s not his fault. Nor mine. Nor Zototo’s. It just - is. I let him know Red’s words of advice: that Zototo would want me to be happy; want me to move on. And if I see him some time in the future: that’s okay. Our friendship will always exist. Always. And the memories we made together were happy. And I’d take his words and move with them…Well, Badge confessed then that our time together brought him happiness, too. And he liked it. And me. Well, although I’ll admit to a flutter in my stomach, I’m not ready admit I “like” him - and hells - more? I was afraid he was already going too far, but he promised it was no more than a flutter he hadn’t felt in a long time. Then he blushed as he confessed that sleeping next to me brings him a peaceful rest. Something he’s not felt in a while. Gods, how he turned so crimson. Aye; Weavy suspected such…

As such, I offered if there were ever a night he couldn’t sleep, he was more than welcome to share mine. And let him know that Red has the same offer and we often rest beside each other. Slumbering with friends seems to be the way to go, Journal. I don’t know why I felt compelled to share such with Badge, but I blurted it right out. I could tell he seemed put off by the thought of Alex and I sharing a bed. But, who is it to him to be upset over such?Like laundry dangling from the lines out at the ‘Suds, emotions were put out in the open and lines were laid. The man knew where I stood. And he promised to be less distant. With a quick shared peck on his ear, and he my cheek, we said our goodbyes and I took my leave._{((OOC: session 9/2/22 in-game RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed for Android))}

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Weavy & A Broom

Dear Journal,I made it home tonight quite late this eve. Hep was not at her usual post outside by the retainer table. Nor was she inside…which isn’t strange: she often takes time away to work on U-ACT business or mayhap visit Mistress Urleaux in Ishgard. And for all I knew, she was still working with Kjerstie’s apartment manager to fix that swiving window.Anyroad, the house was quiet. I fought Nibbles on the way down my stairs - gods, he’s getting fat - and intended to change out of my newly-acquired Whalathee garb from my earlier lessons with Red. I had just begun to unbutton my ruffled blouse when I caught sight of a figure in the reflection, sitting upon my Manderville Board.“I have a broom and I’m not afraid to use it!” I remembered shouting, eyeing Mistress dormant against the fishtank behind me. Of course I was afraid to use it. The last time? The first time? The only time? - nearly burnt down the estate.Farfnir’s Farts - it spoke…and it was Weavy. Tapping her nails on her very own magicked broom. How’d she get in? Why was she on my Board? And what did she want? Surely, not to play a round of Triple Triad…Or mayhap she wanted to retrieve that accursed broom. Nay, she did not wish to take it back; said such things were gifts to be handed out freely. Then she added she was here for something far more important.I remember swallowing, cursing the tight ruffles around my throat. Mayhap she was here for her father’s long-lost vest. I opened the drawer and offered it to her; nay. Gods, how she glowered as she stepped down off my wee table. Suddenly the sound of rain and thunder could be heard outside…a perfectly sunny Goblet day and the Skywatcher hadn’t alerted of any such weather changes anon. Anyroad, it mayhap made Weavy even more terrifying than normal. She wasn’t here for her father’s - shall we say - laundry. As she continued to step forward, I whispered, “Brushy” and watched my Mistress spring to attention near the fishtanks, gently sweeping on the other side of my uncle’s bed. Oh how I wished such distance were betwixt Weavy and I.She - she asked why I was trembling. Me arse was mashed up against my mirror, there was nowhere else I could go. And I watched as my blasted magicked broom swept it’s way upstairs and there came a horrible knocking sound- presumably it banged itself against the door’s inners. That’s right, Mistress. You mirror my intent; aye? Get me the seven hells out of here! NOW! Gods…the next thing I asked was what only felt natural; or mayhap I was simply projecting again: I offered her an ale.And she promptly stuck a finger betwixt my breasts and reminded me she’s pregnant. Her finger - gods - it felt as a wee lightning bolt! Ya know when you walk across a fuzzy rug with naught more than your socks and touch things…zap...Suddenly there came a crashing sound of glass as I can only presume Mistress gave up on the door and smashed through a window. The sound of wind and rain intensified; yep - most certainly a window was now “open.”Weavy took a step back, her glowing eyes faded to their regular hue, and the rain and thunder waned. She said she was simply there to talk, in private, away from the prying ears of others. Well, there are far easier ways to make such arrangements: linkpearl, an invitation by Moogle - not sneaking into someone’s house and lying in wait…I asked if she controlled the weather with her crafty magics, but she denied any such skill. Rather, Weavy shifted the conversation back to her father, pointing to the vest which still was visible from my opened dresser drawer.Apparently he went from grumpy to happy to Grumpkin once more. I slammed the drawer shut, stated nothing was going on betwixt he and I as I had another I awaited - ahh, Zototo - and asked if she’d asked him herself. Hells, even Vollder could attest to Grumpkin’s sour mood just the other eve.Somehow I squished passed her close-talkativeness and invited the mage to my table; if not for her own two legs, then for her bairns. She apologized for her tactics, stated it was out of pure concern for her father and apparently he oft’ pulls some - how’d she put it? Self-sacrificial bullshite? Some Grumpkin bullshite. Anyroad, I told her that I’d send him a letter that he and I needed to talk…because we did. I needed to tell him I’d been trying to move on from Zototo - but Badge had been so busy at the diner, at the House, and on adventures that we’d not yet had the chance to connect.I took the next quarter-of-a-bell filling her in on Zototo, my time with him, his disappearance, and the state of my heart. Then there was Badge. And all the little interactions we’d been having as of late. And Alex telling me that Zototo would want me to move on - to be happy…sound words. And sure, he probably would.Gods, there was leftover cold fondue cheese still in the pot. I am ashamed to admit this…but I began to eat it by the fingerful. One scoop at a time, as I stared at Weavy and let my tongue fly loosely.She laughed at me. At me? Or her father? It matters not. What matters is that she summoned cake out of nowhere and began to eat it! She said her father confided in her that he knew of Zototo and my feelings for the missing warrior. And apparently had feelings blooming for me - but opted to create some grumpy distance due to the fact that I was still pining for Zototo. And my letter likely sent him into a tizzy thinking the worst. Anyroad, she suggested rather than wait for him to come out of his funk and start talking, that I find him at the Dawnstar estate in Ishgard. Corner him and have a conversation. Let him know what I need to say.Hells, do I even know what I need to say?There - there was an interruption as my linkpearl had begun to buzz wildly in my ear. It was Red! Apparently Elisandra had hailed Red from the Crimson. My swiving broom had made it’s way through the rain and wards of Goblet to bang furiously on the door of the casino for several minutes before hightailing it back to the ‘Suds. He made an inquiry if aught was amiss and I let him know that certain pregnant mutual friend was within and we were chatting. He cracked a private joke over the ‘pearl that I dare not share: was I in need of his company since my broom had fled to his casino. Shite. Master’s intentions: indeed. I apologized for the inconvenience, invited him within the estate (he declined) and took his leave from my yard.Anyroad, back to the Dawntar Isghardian’ estate. She prattled out the address and insisted I just barge in and have a conversation rather than wait for his grumpy arse to bring up my letter that we needed to speak. That I just let it all out. That I enjoy our time together, but was still waiting to resolve the missing Zototo…even though I’m not ready to act on any feelings that may be kindling…Weavy eats cake from mid-air. Did I mention she summons cake? Says it’s somewhere at her estate, and she can drag it through aether to my estate. She refused to share so I continued to eat my congealed fondue cheese while we spoke of her father, Zototo, the swiving broom, and her cake.She even asked if she could hire me once her bairn were well - born. Aye. Then she had the audacity to say if I’ve not heard from Zototo by now, mayhap his silence meant he didn’t want to even hear from me. That her Broc would always find a way to contact her if they were in need of communicating. Farfnir’s Farts, that woman has no tact.Anyroad, I asked if she ever wished to talk in the future, she reach out by pearl or Moogle first rather than just showing up, laying in wait, and not even bothering to knock. How in the seven hells did she even get inside? I can tell you how she left: through the window that Mistress broke.[The following is unknown to Zim and literally everyone, as Weavy promptly forgot all about the poor retainer, Hep…and all shall be made a little clearer in coming journal entries. The storyboard was just too good not to share]

_{((OOC: session 9/1/22 Discord RP; all screenshots edited via Snapseed))}

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Shimizu Estate: Week 23

Dearest Journal,I met Alex at their Shirogane estate and by the gods, they had installed the candy lawn ornaments. They were massive. I mean, I know they were precisely the same that were in my own front yard, but they appeared so much larger here…I was so excited when I opened the door and squealed to Red that I didn’t notice Sasha resting in her Paissa chair until it was too late and she woke up. Shite. But the wee Muffin was adorable and simply stretched out a hand toward me, and I her - but the entirety of the living room stood betwixt us. I commented on the ornaments and Alex let me know one had gone missing! Mayhap a thief roamed the ward?Nay. He knew it was no other than his wife, simply snacking. Ha! She did seem to have a sweet tooth. He’s even caught her licking them when she thought none spied her actions.Ha. I purposely wore a feathered pendant to taught my employer that day, but conversation shifted to Triad card collecting and a rocky reopening of the Crimson’s doors. I settled at my usual chair across the Triad board as he shared his newest acquisitions with me. Another of the Diss - Dissida – Dissomething Collection - folks of fiction from other realms. The Squall card: the one that resembles my Red is from such said collection. Gods, Journal, he showed me a new card. It was some small Lalafellin woman - nay, not a Lalafell. What did he call her? I don’t remember, but her name.

Farfnir’s Farts it was the S-word that shall not be repeated! The one that lit my magicked broom on fire and nearly burnt down the ‘Suds!! Sha–shhhhh. Nay. I can’t write it. I begged him not to repeat it. Obviously, ‘twas the name of some fictional character on a Triad card, but gods - I told Red all about the day Bumpkin and I tried to figure out the magical word to turn off that accursed broom, Mistress. And the carnage that it brought. Although, such horrors did bring about my beloved ice wall.So…turns out Sasha is a quick study. She tried to repeat the name of the Lalafell-not-Lalafell. The horrendous trigger word for my magicked broom. Luckily, she apparently cannot yet form enough syllables of sense to say it aloud. And let us hope and pray she forgets the utterance long before she can actually speak.But, Mistress was safe at the ‘Suds and Alex didn’t believe his magicked broom had any such built-in defense mechanism as mine. Leave it to swiving Weavy to boobytrap my broom…Anyroad, we went back to reviewing his cards. Did you know he has one that looks just like the man that sold me my blue stone and mage book? Marvin? Nay - Martin! Martyn? Hells, I don’t know how to spell it. Looked just like him.

Red said he got it at the Blue Mages guild. Aye! Must be the same shyster who sold me that book ‘n stone. Although Red says it wrong: it’s Whalathee, not Whalaqee. Anyroad, he’d not met Martyn, but some associate of his and was learnin’ the ways of the Whalathee…which he confirmed by producing the blue stone from his pocket and his usual dalamud red coat was suddenly a deep hue of the ocean.

Red Blue apparently had learned several healing spells already. I asked if he’d learned the one Martyn roped me in with: the ability to procure fish from mid-air. And, just on cue, my beloved friend tore an anchovy out of the emptiness betwixt us and flung it at a chair. Anchovy? Mayhap it was a sardine? I dunno. Small. ‘Twas a small fish. I wondered aloud if you could eat them - imagine all the endless skewered fish. Pffffst. He said they were fishies made o’aether and likely not nutritious or delicious. I asked if he’d mayhap take me under his tutelage as I’d not been able to make my blue pebble do anything.He agreed, but only after he scattered bubbles across the floor…from his mouth! He called it Aqua Breath. And Farfnir’s Farts - he offered to teach me! Right then and there!! I had none of my blue attire, nor the manual with me. So I ran to the nearby market while Red waited for Elisandra to come watch Sasha. Properly outfitted with attire and book - I already had the stone in me pocket - we stood outside. I thought we’d be bubbling down some lollipops - but nay! Red had other ideas…the cad!He had me stand by the candy with the intention o’knocking me on me arse with bubbles and water! And I? He expected me to summon my very first wee fish to counter his attack! Shite. There he was, huffin’ and puffin’ and gathering his Whalathee ways and he ordered me to throw a fish! AUGH!

And I did! By the gods, Journal, I hurled a wee fish all the way across the front path at him as he blasted me with wetness! Arse. I wrung out my hat as he demanded we do it again! I squeezed that tiny blue pebble so hard and closed my eyes and imagined a gigantic fish - and suddenly there it was: the tiniest anchovy smacked him square across the face just as he spewed more bubbles at me. How they floated with such ferocity is beyond me.He asked if I had studied his movements, his concentration, the burp o’bubbles and splash of water. Nay. I was focusing on the inside of my eyelids and imaging a fish. One last time, I watched closely as he belched an upheaval of water and air. And, of course, I was hosed down in the yard. I do believe he enjoyed this too much. Good thing the mage attire was blue and not white. We all know what happens to white when ‘tis wet.

Anyroad, he had me focus. And focus I did. Hard! Holding that stupid blue cane and all ~ and naught happened. Martyn’s a fraud. And Red summoned the fish. I knew it.Nay. My Red says Martyn’s no fraud, but the ways of the Whalathee are learned by watching and killing things. I can watch. But kill? Nay. He says I truly was the one who summoned the wee creatures of the ocean…and he and I could travel to wherever, I’d toss a fish to attract the attention of whatever horrible thing was there, and he’d kill it…and I, by proxy, would learn the Whalathee ways! We would have to consult schedules and set a day to train.But now it was time to play Triad! Or so I thought - nay…Rather he asked that I join him in the kitchen to consult the bread and cheese cabinetry. Why? I had recently tended to the cupboards and they were fine. Apparently betwixt the time I checked and today, a monstrous amount of fungus growth had assaulted a cheese wheel on the third shelf. Apparently it’d been there a while and I just hadn’t seen it? The bastard was simply teasing that I had missed the mold. Well, shite. He wasn’t upset at all. I don’t know that there’s any way of making Red angry. Hells, he pays me good wages and I oft’ miss the mold. But if he says he’s not mad; then he’s not mad. He even confessed he’d disposed of a sullied loaf of bread before I arrived. Double-shite. He did naught more than boop me across my nose playfully and whisk me off to the Triad board for more cards!

That swiving shite-monster of an Au’ran child tried again to babble the broom’s name. This time with far more syllables. NAY! She can never learn the term!!! Quickly, I changed the topic to the Striple Triad club an asked if Red had, in fact, played the other eve. Aye, he did and lost to Hanna. That Miqo’te who bested me at the tournament! Turns out he lost to her as well. And bared all his bits! But he’d won a raffle of 10,000,000 gil! Shite! Such a win! Even if he lost his shirt, pants, and shoes. Ha!Cards. Gods, he walloped me arse, so I slowly removed one glove and placed it on the table. Glove for glove; aye? I wonder how Mistress Urleaux’s progress on the commission is coming along. Anyroad, he added some rule to the game where we each were able to pick our cards rather than have the enchanted Triad box pic ‘em at random - to even the playing field. And we ended in a draw!

Which meant…whoever had the last capture got to ask a question. He stole my card. The inquiry was his…Gods, he asked me the most erotic dream I’ve ever had…and of course, given the rules o’the game, I was under obligation to answer. He let me know I could spare the gritty details if I wished it. So I let him know it was a while ago - shortly after we had first met - and we rutted upon that flying bed I’ve seen from time to time in the skies…anyroad as we floated above the Lavender Beds and matin’ like ruttin’ yaks, never a care given as far as who may have heard or seen.Then he conceded a secret; one I shall not repeat even to you, Parchment. But gods, it was a deep one. The man unfurls his secrets as a flower to the sunshine at dawn. Living Journals, indeed.Where was I? Oi! Back to Triad! And yes, it was Striple! We played several rounds until Red was stripped down to his bare things, clothing in a pile. Still champagne, I was!! And it won me a peck across the lips and a smile. As he dressed, we spoke of the upcoming possible Death Dice tournament at House of Virtue, Badge’s apparently discontent at me for some reason, and the fact I’d sent yet another letter out in search of Zototo. AND Red and I had plans to visit the Amaurot Hostelry at sennight’s end. And soon? More lessons of the Whalathee magics! One day I shall hurl bubbles from my mouth!_{((OOC: session 9/1/22 in-game & Discord RP; all screenshots edited with Snapseed))}

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Meeting at the Sundown

Dear Journal,You remember how Grinly’d gone missing and was found by Vollder? Well, the Nugget’s been taking care of the pooch at my behest and it was time for me to pick him up. It’d been a few sennight and I asked what he’d like in return: gil? A gift? The man shrugged…over linkpearl. One could hear the shift in shoulders and cloth. Gods.We opted to meet at Badge’s diner and we both were curious to see if he’d actually accept our gil this time. We were able to buzz Badge no his ‘pearl and haul him into our conversation. Plans were made to meet at the diner at once! Gods, I was hungry. No idea what the chef was gonna be making, but I hopped on Farfnir as fast as I could and made our way to the Mists.I beat the ‘Nugget to the diner it seems as Badge was furiously at work in the kitchen, head down, as he greeted me with a wee “Good evening, Sunshine,” as he tended to our meals. How’d he know it was me? He said nobody else bursts through his door quite like I do. Seeing as I beat Vollder there, I sat at the bar and inquired of Badge if he knew what sort of gift the ‘Nugget would appreciate in thanks.He slid a Dawnstar in front of me. Shite. I was to begin drinkin’ before even padding my stomach with a meal? Gods, so good…Anyroad, he suggested perhaps a nice aged alcohol.Bah! The man’s a barkeep by trade. Alcohol. He’s surrounded by it. Nay. Piss-poor suggestion if you ask me, Journal! Piss-Poor!!!Just as we finished that exchange and I fought the fruit garnish of my beverage, Vollder walked through the door, wearing a thick coat and heavy armor. Hm. I thought him only a barkeep, no? Placed upon his shoulder as some king on a throne sat Grinly. Perfectly content and adorable: Ah, my uncle’s my dog. Bumpkin grunted in greeting and turned back toward the kitchen. I offered Vollder a sip of my Dawnstar, but nay - Badge interrupted that he had some special Lominsan ale set aside already for the Golden Nugget. More for me…The meals were suddenly thrust onto the counter before us. Vollder got some concoction of meat, rice, and broccoli. It was as large as my head, if not bigger! Some fancy chicken dish swimming in red sauce landed in front of me: sweet, yet savory, and rice soaked up the excess fluid.I asked if Badge would be joining us for dinner, but the chef rolled his eyes and gave his usual speech that it’s not customary for the chef to dine with guests. Guests? Patrons? Nay. We’re friends!! BUT if Bumpkin is calling us patrons, that means we’re paying gil! AYE! ‘Tis a fair trade!Grinly whimpered from Vollder’s shoulder as the man ate his meal, so I tried to sneak him a piece of my chicken. Badge scolded me, stating the sauce may be harmful to the wee pup. So, I tossed it in my own mouth as the chef folded his arms grumbling about something.Gods, the Dawnstar hit hard and fast. My lips were flappier than - well, what’ flappy? Anyroad, Grumpkin made mention o’telling fortunes, only to tell me that I’d already had too much to drink. Well, is it my fault he makes the Dawnstars so strong? Nay! Vollder reached into a pouch on his hip and pulled out some type of dog-safe treat, feeding Grinly. I’ll be adding “dog treats” to my Thank Ye gift tab…Grumpkin shuffled off to tend to dishes while Vollder and I ate and talked. I shoved my face over the remainder of his plate to take a sniff and was quickly flicked upon my nose and batted back to my own personal space. Seeing Grinly so comfy upon Vollder’s shoulder, so majestic, so - attached - I made mention that mayhap Voll should keep the pup.I only had him for a few sennight; the same as Vollder. I finished my Dawnstar and begged for another, then made the proposition to the ‘Nugget: mayhap he should keep the wee dog. Nay. He put the dog on the counter and he began to make his way toward me with a little yip…before curtly turning around and leaping once more upon Vollder’s shoulder.Aye! Decision made! I was not about to tear a pup away from a shoulder for the sake of sentimentality over an Uncle I never knew existed before a few moons ago. I sipped on the Dawnstar and the water Bumpkin insisted I drink alongside it. Vollder finished his ale and procured a flask from his hip. And Badge flopped into an overstuffed chair near the stage…And the ‘Nugget? Flat out asked if Badge and I were - were - “a thing.” I quickly buried my face into the Dawnstar and filled my gullet with beverage. Badge exploded with an expletive, which made me snortlaugh and lose some of my precious nectar.I sort of remember shoving my finger in Vollder’s face that I was workin’ on ending things with the missing Zototo. And Voll mentioned we’d ben flirting all night. We weren’t flirtin’. We were doin’ business!! Gods. He proclaimed that if we weren’t flirting, it certainly looked as if we were…I wonder how much Badge had told him of our time together.I switched the topic of conversation to Vollder’s flask, but I couldn’t understand a swiving thing the arse said with that thick accent of his. Anyroad, I took that time to escape since Vollder’d gone and made things awkward. I wave by to Grinly and Badge walked me out and to the stables and we made very polite goodbyes.Gods. Swiving Vollder. Now; what to get a man? Not alcohol…_{((OOC: session 8/30/22 & 8/31/22 Discord RP))}

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Hep In My Stead

Dearest Journal,I forgot to mention…gods, it’s been a day. I was still far too sore to get out of bed and return to my unfinished duties in Empyreum. So, I begged Hep to go in my place. Not only to finish my cleaning, but to return the laundered things to Kjerstie (yes, I even had her launder them), as well as pay the apartment manager for the damaged windows. Thankfully, she agreed.Anyroad, quickly, Hep filled me in on the details upon her return to Goblet. First, she was very upset that Kjerstie thought I was Hep and Hep was I. Ha. We don’t even look the same. Mayhap the courier must needs a pair of spectacles? Anyroad, she met Stiltzkin, and did as I asked: referred to him as my Savior. Because he was.I’d be smashed, a puddle of innards on the cobblestones if it weren’t for him. Well, mayhap if we’d not tried the hairbrained scheme in the first place, we never would’ve blasted through the glass? Anyroad, that’s beside the point. I am here today only because of him, his bravery, and his strength.Stiltzkin the Savior.Hep delivered the Moogle’s delivery bag, as well as Kjerstie’s shirt. And the information for the Esuna Wellness Clinic, which I promised I’d pay for their visits. Hep did advise that Stilzkin may inquire after a new bag rather than the ruined, laundered one. If so, I should receive a separate invoice. I’ve seen nothing as of yet.Hap also delivered my letter to Kjerstie to see if she could deliver to Zototo. And tended to the remainder of the cleaning of the glass windows and showcases; without mishap, I may add. Although, Hep did say there was some stubborn greasy streak on the showcase she couldn’t get off. Rather than blame the Moogle as I would, she begged it was some substance on my own cleaning rag. Bullshite. I keep clean rags.It’s certainly why Hep manages the funds and I tend to the cleaning. She also brought home one full clockwork cart of Mistress Kjerstie’s laundry…equally covered in Stilzkin’s white fur. Luckily for me, Hep still tended to the laundry while I convalesced.Apparently, she did a mighty fine job. And even went to the market to fetch a few bottles of a fine red and had the lot delivered to Kjerstie’s apartment for she and my Savior. I do hope she didn’t misrepresent the ‘Suds while she was out and about…Red and I must needs head to Wineport to buy that Moogle a few casks of wine…_{((OOC: session 8/30/22 & 8/31/22 Discord RP))}

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Stories and 48 Stories - Part 3 of 3

Dear Journal,By the time I made it home, the moon had long since crested the chasm of Goblet and I’m sure Red had closed the Crimson and awaited within with either a drink in hand or Triad cards at the ready. Shite. I reeked of piss. Everything hurt. The ‘Suds door was unlocked and I let myself in…I had no cart. No cleaning supplies. No energy.I heard him before I saw him, “Welcome home, Peach,” he called from the landing of the stairs until he rounded the corner. Anyroad, upon the sight of me, he furrowed his brow and inquired what happened while simultaneously gently picking me up in his arms, as soaked in urine as I was, and began to carry me to the facilities below. I dropped Kjerstie’s shirt and the moogle’s bag next to the launderpot as we passed.We talked as we walked. He asked where I hurt. Of course my arse was killing me; as was my back. He asked if I’d be alright if he cast some magics; something that started with a V, I believe. Aye! He kissed my forehead and gently cupped my rump before my flesh felt warm and the ache began to wane. It was beautiful: the halls of the stairs were lit first with crimson followed by a soft pearl hue. Anyroad, I still felt…stiff, but was in far less pain.He set me down once we were in the restroom and began to fill the tub while I peeled away my silken dress and soaked apron. But gods, I couldn't sit to bend and remove my shoes; luckily, he did it for me. Alex deftly unbuckled the wee clasps and set aside my lavender pumps and my piss-soaked socks. I asked if he’d hold me aloft as I wriggled out of my wet bloomers. Aye, he obliged, lifting me off the stool and I gently pushed them down to the floor below me. Ever platonic. Ever loving. Never judging or even a hint of lewdness.Tonight was me, in all my urine-stained and bruised demeanor (Red stated his aether magics had all but removed the actual bruise on me arse) and the waiting bath, which he gingerly set me down into the hot waters of the tub. It turns out he’d been waiting for me a few bells since the Crimson closed it’s doors; even gave him enough time to head back to Shirogane to feed Suckfish his cod before returning to the ‘Suds. So, all in all, he’d waited for me at my estate for about half a bell, tending to his Triad cards in anticipation for our traditional battle ahead. Once I was properly brewing in the steaming water he, too, disrobed and joined me.Although the moment we both got comfortable and settled in the small carbuncle porcelain tub, he realized my vanilla scented oils were out of reach. And he had to get out using a lot of caution (two of us need not have fallen this eve) and retrieved the bottle, pouring in a healthy dose of vanilla and a smidge of lavender and cinnamon. Once he was again settled beneath the water, and each of us armed with a washcloth, I scooted close to recount the tale of the Warrens and the horrible descent as he scrubbed my back and that damned hard-to-reach spot behind my ears. And he listened. He even suggested I send Kjerstie flowers for saving us. Aye; grand idea. I also must needs procure wine for Stiltzkin as I had promised the moogle.Gods, how his fingers worked magic on my scalp, bringing a lather of suds through my short blonde locks. The hyur can give a good shoulder and back rub, too. Well-practiced, he said, on Ume. No wonder they’ve the wee pillows by their set o’baths. It was a bit of heaven. Right there in my wee bathtub. And Farfnir’s Farts - healing magic or no - I needed it. My everything was still so tender. I wonder if Stiltzkin’s wings and muscles were equally tender…Oi, he knows of a good red in Wineport. And suggested mayhap one day we head there for a walk and procure a cask or two of wine. Aye, a grand idea indeed. Can you believe he said he’d not drank much before he met me? Pfffsst. That’s what Ume said, too, when she was over. Does that make me a bad influence? Nay. I refuse to believe it. I’ve seen Red comfortable in his own flesh in my estate, makin’ us breakfast in his barethings, playing Striple Triad, and enjoying plenty of libation. If that’s my fault: wonderful. We need more folks comfortable in their own skin, inside and out.As I flipped around and scrubbed the tops of his shoulders, arms, and chest, he spit out a sudden proclamation: he was going to name a drink after me at the Crimson! The Zimzimtea! Peach tea with a - how’d he put it? Healthy shot of Ul’dahn Whiskey!! Gods, I was so excited I dropped my washcloth! We must needs first try out such a concoction, but we had no peach juice left at the ‘Suds. He’d have to make more, he announced after gently brushing my lips with a kiss then bopping me on the nose. I recovered my senses and found my washcloth, tending to my own nooks and crannies while we further discussed red wine from Wineport, the new drink at the Crimson, and how the casino fared that eve. I tossed my spent washcloth from the tub and it landed upon my already-wet attire-pile…and shifted conversation to a friendly game of Triad while I settled back down onto Red’s shins in the tub. His long lanky legs made a good chairback.Oi! Did I tell you Hep had procured some fine feathers for me after Red and I talked of being each others’ living journals? Which made me inquire as to where he was ticklish. Everyone’s got a ticklish spot; aye? Knee? Thigh? Nay, he wouldn’t tell me! I would have to discover it once I was feeling better…Challenge accepted!At the same time I was about to request we remove our wrinkly selves from the tub, he suggested we do just that and head to bed. Cards would have to wait ‘til the morning, which could only be a few bells away with how deep into the night it had become. He stood and gently scooped me up and out of the waters, placed a kiss on my cheek, set me down and we each dried off.I ran off into the bedroom to fetch the large feathers Hep had purchased at my request, running back while he still dried himself and handed him one, mimicking a dueling stance with my own and cackling. Turns out Red’s not the biggest fan of Hep: finds her quite boring. Aye, she can be. He said one day she went on for a quarter-of-a-bell about the weather; which was perfect, mind you. When is the weather in Goblet anything but? He found her choice in feathers…somewhat lacking. I must needs tell her she did a piss-poor job!Anyroad, it began. I shoved a feather toward his thigh: nay - not ticklish. We blabbed on a bit about the Amaurot at the Gold Saucer as his feather almost grazed the side of my neck (auuugh!) but thankfully he paused mid-thought. Aye, he’d met Azem briefly, which reminded me: what better time to use the oil I had procured from her moons ago? It allows the intention of the users to be known to each other. No boundaries. No filters. No blockages. Red agreed to a wee smearing of such behind his ear and I followed suit.And the feather-fest began! I waggled my feather’s tip into his earhole. Nay. Not ticklish. So, not his knee, thigh, chest, or ear…I would not give up! The man must needs have a weakness…Gods, he found one of mine. Straight for the knee his feather flew. And straight outta my mouth the shout of laughter fired and echoed off of Uncle Fofoduti’s bed. I lurched for his back, trailing the feather across his spine: I FOUND ONE! Gods, how he landed on his back squirming like a flipped adamantoise. Such a chortle!Ok, ok. Where was I? An overwhelming sense that we’d always have each others back - feathery-pun aside. Aye, Azem’s oil was working. I felt safe, loved, and forever-protected. And aye, I think he felt the same from me. He asked what other intentions I wish to knew of him. I took that very moment to sit across from him on the bed, booped his forehead with the cock’s feather, closed my eyes and did my best impersonation of Inquisitor Travanchet’s cogs ‘n springs voicebox: “I sense - I sense…that you’re ticklish HERE!” and traced the feather down his arm. Nay. Not even a flinch. But, he feather-dusted my ribs. “Nay, try again anon…” I drilled on in Alvere’s voicebox voice.Swiving hilarious.Okay. So, my knee; his back. We still had places to explore! And intentions-oil to question. Gods, although our love for one another was pure, he did express a desire for more. A curiosity if such a coupling would work. If it ever happened: wonderful. If it never did: wonderful. He and Ume sharing an open relationship sure was an interesting concept. And I loved that he was fine keeping me around as a friend and journal even if such desires never came to fruition…I mentioned - gods, the oils really did loosen the tongue - that as my feelings for Zototo began to wane with each passing sun, my feelings for Badge bolstered upward like his golden cloud. And, although attracted to Alex’s beautiful blue eyes, lanky Hyur frame, and immense heart - I didn’t think it would physically work? Anyroad, I’d certainly had my share of dreams of rutting the man. Gods. And I loved him on many a level. And he I.But if we were ever to actually couple? We agreed it’d be more lust than love - a pure expression of nearly a summer of pent up tensions and building feelings. I must needs make sure to let Azem know her oil truly did work. I felt no shame in expressing or hearing such thoughts. And it was wonderful to just let it all out.Oh. I found another ticklish spot of his. Ya know that spot where your smallhairs start? Just a few ilm below the belly button? Aye. There. He nearly squealed like a pig as I attacked his well-groomed garden. By the gods, was he sensitive and giggling! A full-grown man, cackling like a babe.We spoke a bit more of lustful pleasures and fantasies before his feather accosted my inner thigh. Nay. I was not so easily taken! I countered with a swipe of the downy barbs along his ear, jawline, and chin: nothing! Although he confessed nibbled-upon earlobes is quite his weakness. Such honesty got him naught more than a grazing kiss across his lips. And the knave took the opportunity of my standing to tickle my nethers. Nay! They weren’t ticklish. Although, Farfnir’s Farts, that was quite an awakening!I demanded he stand and twirl around so I could assault his arsecheeks with my feather. He did so, but nay - not a tickle found! DAMNIT! I do believe he bored of our game as he suddenly pointed to his ribs…which I traced my feather upward and confirmed in another fit of his laughter: so his smallhairs, his back, and his side.And mine? He almost had it before the game had even begun: my neck, my knee, and my entire swiving arm…which he planted a gentle kiss upon as I told him of the sensitive limb.Gone were the memories of the horror of falling nearly 500 fulm with Stiltzkin. Naught but smiles and joy. We sat once more upon the bed, I nearly upon his thigh, leaning against his ticklish torso. He asked if I were accepting of his intentions. That we rut? Nay, he clarified: that he make me as happy as possible, however possible - even if it means we never do couple.Aye. And we made a pact: if we ever were to succumb to our carnal desires of one another, we must needs both be sober. Not a drop of libation upon our tongues. An accord reached, with hearts afire and intentions fully exposed. He planted another kiss upon my cheek and I simply made the proclamation that our friendship had moved beyond cheek kisses and I’d only accept them gently upon my lips from here on out.Aye. Sealed that bargain with a gentle kiss, we did. Aught more than a graze? Nay. We were malms away from that activity…Anyroad, where was I? Oi. Baring our souls and intentions upon my bed. Friendship or nay, gods, he lights a fire in my belly. I settled back against his torso and he leaning against my headboard: contented to just feel the heat of each others sides upon one another. And just like that? It became storytime.Someone…I don’t remember her name…but was Elezen? Elvaan? Something - anyroad, I think he meant Elezen. Someone he had spent some gil to gain her favor - and she had short black hair…and glasses. Apparently he’s got a type? Short hair. Glasses. Hells, I had short hair and shaded spectacles. He professed he’d met her at a brothel. Aye…I shared that I’d been to a few, mostly by mistake or just for the drinks, but did learn my way around a carrot and a wine bottle. Back to whats-her-name! She apparently employed techniques in the bedroom that exercised a certain amount of control over her partners - but secretly desired to be handled the way she handled her clientele. And, as requested, ravage her he did. I can’t imagine him being anything other than tender and kind. And she found some sense of peace after such labors. Fierce rutting causing healing o’the heart? Apparently ‘tis a thing. Chirurgeon Shimizu? Ha!Gods, conversation suddenly shifted to the Miqo’te who kicked my arse at the Triple Triad Tournament! Red told me there’s a venue that offers Striple Triad Tournaments! On the morrow - well, I do believe tonight by the time I’m writing this entry. Nay, I had obligations. But I wholly encouraged his arse to go and bare his bits…especially as comfortable in his flesh as he had become.As he had shared tales of lust and bundled sheets, I offered to share the memories of the times that Dawnstar and I had shared a bed…He agreed and I shifted to lay down, tossing a star-shaped pillow over his bean. Then I ay down with my toes pointing toward my copperfish and my head on his thigh and pillow. Gods, I stared up his nostrils. Cavernous and dark. I told him all about the swimming lessons with Mr. Moon and House Sepame, which led my hungry arse to the Sundown Diner after closing hours, and burgers, and the decision to stay on the futon rather than traipse through Limsa in my swimsuit at such a late hour. When I mentioned the burger Badge fed me, Red inferred I was referring to Badge’s…um…branch. Nay! Which led me to blab on about the blaze o’the accursed broom, the ice wall upstairs, and the fact that he stood in the flames in the barest of flesh without a mark or burn.Anyroad, the story was thoroughly derailed and Red brought it back to focus: Badge and I slept in the Sundown Diner upon the futon…and he’s figured that the Lala’s taken quite a liking to me. Ah. Likely. Then I mentioned the cave with the glowing mushrooms where we slept another eve. But that’s all it was: was slumbering. Just as Red and I do. Naught more than innocence.Gods, then topics shifted to the dreamscape. I confessed I dreamt of he and Emet-Selch ruttin’. I didn’t mention that Badge and Zototo where there, too. Ha. Gods. How I just watched ‘em all tend to each other. Anyroad, Red disclosed that he’s toyed around with his fair share of Miqo’te (I remember him mentioning Ben before), although Emet-Selch wasn’t on the list of those he’s fancied. Why not? I didn’t press. Mayhap the bartender doesn’t fancy him. Or anyone? He does seem grumpy ‘nough.Stifling yawns and giggles, we both decided rest would be best. The bell was very late. The horrors of the day had faded. Skin was unpruned once more. Feathers lay abandoned on the bed. And there we were, two bared best friends, body and soul, snuggled and succumbing to slumber.I’m saddened to say I don’t remember any of my dreams of the evening. I wonder if he did?_{((OOC: session 8/29/22, 8/30/22 & 8/31/22 Discord & in-game RP))}

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Stories and 48 Stories - Part 2 of 3

Dearest Journal,Then I followed the streets of Empyreum to an apartment for Kjerstie and her postmoogle delivery deeds. I knocked a few times, but no response although the doorknob gave way to my jiggling and inward I stepped. She stood there but a moment, back facing me as she fussed with a hat, and whirled as I apologized for letting myself in.

Nay, it wasn’t a hat - well it was - but it was atop a Delivery Moogle! She’s got ‘em at her beck and call, she does! Turns out his name is Stiltzkin and he works with Kjerstie delivering parcels for the postmaster. Oh how they often bickered as a bonded couple - well, he bickered quite often. She simply delighted in his presence, it seemed.Anyroad, the first task at hand was to be mending some tears in her bed linens. The covers had wee snags and holes in ‘em. And the toys - gods, the sheer volume of plushies seemed to fill half the apartment - well, some of ‘em were in need of stitches. I inquired if she had fitful dreams that would lead to her nails poking holes in the bed, or mayhap a trist or two that’s gotten out of hand. Gods, that got a good flush to her face. Poor thing. I don’t know her well enough to be making such crass jests. Anyroad, her claws did seem mighty sharp, so I bet it was by accident if she was tossing and turning in her slumber.

I threaded the needle with my favored turquoise thread and began to darn the bed covers, asking her to tell me more of herself while I worked. The Moogle just floated nearby at a couch, scowling and offering the occasional chortle. Anyroad, turns out Kjerstie had left the Ironworks to pick up work with the delivery moogles. Conversation flowed betwixt she and I, learning one of the other, and before I knew it the bed covers were properly patched up with wee bits of turquoise, which I think contrasted beautifully with the cherry blossom canopy and pink accents.

Onward to the toys: stuffing protruding, missing eyes, gaping wounds. Gods, she really must needs trim those nails. Turns out Kjerstie’s from Camp Bluefog, some village somewhere and was aligned with the Ironworks purely because of THE Raubahn. Ya know - him. THEEEE Raubahn! His actions spared her village from them nasty Imperials. By the gods, how conversation swiftly swung to his one good arm and his strong voice that makes your thighs ache. That jawline. Ugh. Ok ok - anyroad, whe’s not met him ni person, but may write him a thank you letter. I suggested she deliver it to him in person - ya know, being she is a postal worker and such. Stiltzkin had no true objections over the idea…official business and all.Speaking of the Moogle, I figured I’d let him pick the color of thread to stitch up them toys. His favorites? White: like his fur; Yellow or Pink like the poms of he and his fellow Moogles. I rummaged through my sewing case and found copious amounts of pink thread. Aye; pink it would be. He seemed quite pleased. Gods, the thread would stand out amongst the toys as none were actually pink. But mayhap it would serve as a reminder to my newest client that she really must needs trim those nails - or as least keep them filed smooth. Again, conversation made short work of all the meding. I learned that Stiltzkin had been a courier for nearly two summers, although my query was posted to Miss Kjerstie. And I learned he enjoys a good wine. Did I mention how much white fur had just been layered about the apartment? In nearly every fiber of the rugs, and along the surfaces of - well, all the surfaces. He sheds, it seems. Mayhap she could brush him more often? I mean - they seemed close enough? Where was I? Kjerstie! She’d been a postal courier for about half a summer. Apparently a lot of the parcels and letters she delivers are love-related. Now how would one know that lest she opens them? Nay. That’s unprofessional.If it’s one thing I know about the Delivery Moogles, privacy is valued above all else! Well, that and a timely delivery. And gil. Gods, gil.So, Stiltzkin’s swiving fur - there was no way my broom would be a viable choice of attack. Rather, I received permission from Kjerstie to employ my wee pocket slime. I was so excited - very rarely do I get to bring him out. So, I pulled the wee green putty out of my pocket, and began to knead and pull it until it was - well, it’s normal slimy size, and set it to work slurping along the carpets. Unlike the time at House Sepame, this time he didn’t ruin the carpets (thank the gods) but the swiving Moogle’s fur was so deeply engrained within the piling that it also could not get it all out. Well, it was a marked improvement so I’m sure the effort was better than naught.

While the slime was working its magic (I really should give that thing a name other than pocket-slime), I asked Kjerstie if she could deliver a love letter on my behalf. To my Zototo, missing in the wilds as he was. Mayhap her personal touch would find him. Last I’d heard, he was somewhere in the Coerthas Western Highlands…but that was moons ago. And, again, naughts been delivered yet. Or if it has, naughts been responded to…She said she’d try her best! That’s all one can hope for; aye? Aye. I offered coin, but Kjerstie refused. Luckily, her furried counterpart piped up that wine would suffice as payment.As my slime was no longer sucking up anymore stubborn Moogle hairs, I smooshed him back into his wee bead-size and dropped him into my apron’s pocket. Onward to the last of the apartment’s needs: helping organize some overflowing parchments, parcels, tomes, and clutter; as well as cleaning the showcases and windows. Easy enough.Except, well, gods - she had a lot of clutter. And I had once more forgotten Red’s enchanted Lala stool. Well, best to make do with what we have. Shite could not have gone worse…

Anyroad; where was I? Aye, the clutter! We sat upon her floor and tried to make sense of the parchments and scrolls. Although I can appreciate organized chaos (what works for one may not work for some), I couldn’t make heads or tails of Kjerstie’s piles. As we sifted and sorted, she hurriedly wadded up some scrap piece of paper, blushed furiously, and tossed it across the room. Stiltzkin immediately picked it up. Anyroad, we spoke of journals, we we both do love to do such - a wonderful way to relieve stress an release woes and dreams. The Moogle scrunched up the parchment and threw it aside after grumbling about not being able to read her penmanship. What sort of Moogle can’t make out writing? Mayhap that’s what happened to my letters to Zototo? I must needs write clearer!I walked over to toss the wadded parchment into the refuse pile to haul out with my cart, but Kjerstie leapt from her seated position screeching that I halt, but she was too late. I held it. I read it. And by the gods, I now know why she blushed.Not only did Kjerstie have an oversized portrait of that Elezen lord hanging in her apartment - gods, the blue of his attire and eyes, but this particular piece of parchment confessed some mighty heavy feelings for the man. The longing for diners, to touch his hand, to have him raise her hand to his lips...I could only imagine for such a grazing of his lips upon her knuckles. What if her talons marred his lip? Gods. He was a rather fine looking fellow. And that pesky Moogle asked me what it said. By the paleness of her face, I imagined Kjerstie had no desire for her companion to know.So, I fibbed: I told Stiltzkin it simply professed that he was the bravest delivery moogle of them all. Apparently, he was used to her calling him the cutest of them all…so the new descriptive term was met with a bit of acknowledgment on his part.Onward to the window. Gods. Onward to the window. Nay…onward to the window…I stood upon the Moogle couch and still could not reach the sill. Curse my short stature and forgetful mind! And then? A marvelous idea sprung to thoughts: Stiltzkin! Kjerstie’s winged companion had a bag that looked just my size. I suggested mayhap he could carry me as he does the mail, within the sack, and hold me aloft so I may properly address the glass with my cloth. I only weigh 35 ponze. Surely, an experienced Delivery Moogle was used to carrying far heavier parcels than I. He and Kjerstie bickered back and forth, she egging him on to carry me, he complaining his arms were too spindly. I simply offered the solution of, again, shoving me in his red mail bag. An accord was met: he’d hold me aloft while I cleaned the glass and she’d hug his furry self once we were done.Stiltzkin laid his sack upon the couch so I could climb - all but my head fit within. Perfect. I wriggled my arms out so I could manage my tasks as he slipped the strap over his frame and slowly we took flight. Gods, how he wobbled to and fro…made it quite difficult. Shite. If that were only the worst of it.Nay.Suddenly he careened forward and we both smashed face-first into the window. Did it stop there? Nay. It shattered with our combined weight and momentum we were cascaded outward into the night air of Empyreum. And for a moment, the view was glorious. Just a split second to ponder how close we were to the stars before the Moogle’s wee wings couldn’t hold us aloft.

The screaming. So much screaming. Forty-eight floors above the cobblestones of Empy? And the swearing. Was that mine? Or his? And gods, what was Kjerstie thinking as we plummeted? Stiltzkin prayed to the Good King Mog to save us - nay - to save him. And oh how his wee wings fluttered so hard and kept us from hurling to certain death. I promised him all the wine he would drink if we saw us through this. Although, I may have pissed myself…and his sack…and gods knows what else? The side of the apartment complex mayhap? Anyroad, when I finally opened my eyes, I realized his prayers must’ve worked ‘cause we were nearly four fulm above the streets, he was still struggling to hold us up, but hold us up he did!!! We weren’t jam upon the cobblestones. Good King Mog had heard Stiltz’s prayers! We were going to make it!!Suddenly the strap of his mailbag broke. SHITE! Rather than the Lala-splattering hardness of stone, I was met with a soft thud and a furred tail. Although the Mighty Stiltzkin had done such a great job keeping us from plummeting like stones through the air, it was still quite a fast and hard descent.Apparently, the Courier had literally sprinted down 48 flights of stairs in an attempt to catch us…and catch she did. Sort of. We landed squarely upon her backside…well, I did as Stiltzkin barely hovered above us…and she gave a mighty whoof as the wind left her lungs, facedown in our intended cobblestones. The Moogle left me and the sack on Kjerstie’s rump and hugged her hard around the neck. I wiggled and struggled to get out - it’s quite difficult when silks and sacks are soaked in piss.Anyroad, there was a gentle tumbling to the ground as Kjerstie stood up and there I sat, within the bag, staring up at her. Apparently, it stunk of me and my loosed bladder. Me. The Bag. Her shirt. Gods. I was so sore. Thankfully, Kjerstie opted to allow me to come back the next day - is that today? - to finish the tasks and retrieve my belongings. For now, all I wanted was to limp home and soak in the bath.Stiltzkin seemed just as traumatized as I. I wonder how much fur would accumulate in the apartment due to his stress. Anyroad, I offered to tend to the window repairs with the apartment manager anon. And would launder the mailbag and Kjerstie’s shirt. And my own attire. Shite.

Stiltzkin the hero. My savior. Truly the bravest Moogle of them all.And shite, I had forgotten that Red would be awaiting me at the ‘Suds for our usual slumber party. Mayhap he had already fallen asleep. I quickly made my way to the aetheryte plaza to head back to Ul’dah. Gods. I say quickly. Nay. Slowly. Everything ached. And Farfnir’s Farts, piss-covered silks in Ishgard was quite…frigid…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; original artwork by @stainedincolor session 8/29/22))}

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Stories and 48 Stories - Part 1 of 3

Dear Journal,Gods, yesterday was horrific. It ended well, but by the gods…Firstly, I tended to the Warrens at House Sepame. That horrific basement. Gods. Master Bethoir was not there, but his beloved Namazu were. As were copious bottles of libation, which I most assuredly drank from. I even brought a few bottles home with me for reparations o’the Warrens…Remember the Namazu horde? Well, they didn’t disappoint! I walked down the stairs beyond that secreted wall and as soon as I entered the dank air o’the Warrens, I was swarmed by the brood, all “MissZims, how be ye?” and copious amounts of soggy rice crackers and tea thrust into my hands. If you can call it tea? Gods. The only way I could politely make my way through the throng was to accept the soggy mess. I fear I cannot call them crackers when they simply sit in a smooshy puddle in one’s palm. To make matters worse? Several simply stared with those blank eyes and twitching - what are those? Whiskers? Antennae? - in anticipation of my devouring their offering. Ya know what they say? Down the hatch…I was able to swallow it whole (I guess there’s something good to say about a cracker that’s gone soft; aye) without it touching my tastebuds.But the tea? It was thick and murky and tasted o’the smell of Farfnir’s arse. I - I couldn’t swallow it down and spat it out into the pond I’d be cleaning anon. I thought I’d offend my Namazu hosts, but nay - apparently tea in the pond was quite the tradition? That would explain the scum and tea leaves. Anyroad, they seemed more than eager to take the repulsive cup of sludge from me and pass it amongst themselves to drink.I shall have to ask Master Bethoir who in the seven hells Hime-sama is as his beloved wards continued to why I wasn’t scared of him. Mayhap they referred to the grim statue at the end of the table? Why must they remind me that that thing was to be dusted? Hime-sama? Hime-sama? Nay, I believe Master Bethoir referred to it as Number Twenty? Twenty-one mayhap? I didn’t have time to seek clarification before a Namazu began to swat each of the rest upon the back of their heads and herding them out their wee doors here and there, bowing to me in apology. It made as formal an introduction one of the Children of Master Bethoid could muster: this was Gyokun. Apparently they held sway over the rest and mumbled something about tending to rocks outside and Leona before disappearing through a hatch. Thank the gods. I could clean in peace…Nay. Peace does not exist in the Warrens. I immediately dusted that horrid statue as quickly as possible and moved onward to the Master’s books. That horrid pile. Gods. Last time a meatball was summoned. This time? Shite. I was dusting the books and must’ve done whatever wrong. Where was Master Bethoir when I needed him? A tome sprung open, it’s pages flapping wildly as I ran behind the wired mesh that separated me from the bedroom. I held my breath, peeking through the barrier, and waited for the flying ball o’meat and teeth to devour me whole. Imagine my surprise when an orangish-brown ooze began to bubble from the cleft o’the pages, boiling like some shite-soup. Mayhap ‘twas Sasha’s arse summoned from Shirogane to haunt me? NAY! The broiling sludge solidified atop the tome and turned, one giant eyeball glaring at me. It began to mumble strange words - it - it had a mouth!? Was it a curse? Pray, nay! And I stood there, quietly, as it made it’s way in my direction. Go away. Go away. Go away. Gods, pray, go away! It extended out an oozy nub and smacked me across the ankle, still muttering - gods - was I cursed? Cursed by a pile o’gelatinous shite with an eyeball? I dared breathe only after it shifted and oozed it’s way around the corner and out of sight. I heard the secret doorway close behind the thing. Pray, how’d the sentient-shite know of that doorway? I don’t care. It was gone! I wiped off my ankle (I can still feel it!!) and I once more set to tackle Master Bethoir’s bedroom.These Namazu and their muffin wrappers! Or was it the Cob ‘n Lin ore? I forget who was responsible for the refuse beneath the bed…does it matter? Nay. Anyroad, I mustered up my courage and once more climbed betwixt the floor, the wrappers, and the underside of Master Bethoir’s bedsprings. The last time I was there I had found his misplaced smallclothes. Yesterday I found something far greater: a wee tome labeled “Knights Tales.” It lay long forgotten, crusted in muffin crumbs and dust, so I stowed it away in my clockwork cart to entertain me later…Master Bethoir surely wouldn’t miss it for a few suns; aye?Anyroad, on to the rough stuff: as if the morning wasn’t bad enough already, I realized I had forgotten my raincoat for those swivin’ Namazu shitebuckets. And the last attempts at tending the things led to my uniform being coated in well…let’s not discuss such things. Where was I? Oi. So, the Namazu were all hiding away. Master Bethoir was out. And the House itself was empty; I mean, Alfred was always there, but the old man is likely blind? Aye? Anyroad, I stripped off my clothes and managed the buckets in my barethings. Trudged in and out of the Warrens, up them stairs, passed the (hopefully) blinded Alfred, and out the front door to quickly drop the slop near the stables. ‘Tis a good thing Honor’s Rest has high walls and thick foliage.By the gods, Journal, there I was minding my own business hauling up the fifth bucket when that blasted shite-blob returned, coated in what I could only presume was - mayhap porridge? Firstly, it stared. Then it grumbled and swatted at the air with them oozy nubs, and gods that eye. Anyroad, it just sat there, lumbering on the stairs as my arms began to weaken from the overladen bucket. So, I had no choice but to try to try to squeeze passed it’s gelatinous lump…I kept the bucket o’shite betwixt the thing and my flesh but…I don’t know if I tripped upon the stairs, the summoned shite-eye, or simply slipped on the porridge-covered flooring, but the bucket and I fell headfirst into the creature.I’ve not the correct words to describe the mess. Namazu shite. Bits o’undigested unknowns, crackers, and tea leaves. One Lalafellin lass in the buff, wearing naught more than my popotoes and smallhairs. And there was one irate and undulating squish of brown gelatinous puddin’ with a glaring eyeball. Once I pulled myself from it’s bulk, it nearly smacked the bucket out of my hands before heading downstairs, covered in shite - as much as I was, too. Shite. I’d have to wash off before I could put my attire back on. And clean up this mess. And hopefully before anyone arrived back home. There truly was a trail o’porridge leading up the stairs, through the main room, and downstairs toward the kitchen, I’d imagine.I trudged my shite-covered self straight to Lady Sepame’s private chambers and drew a hasty bath. No time to turn into a prune: just a rudimentary cleaning job, then I had to scrub the tub - gods!!!! Then run through the house, streaking passed Alfred once more and back to the Warrens. Thankfully, that thing was no longer around - at least, not where I could see it. I quickly got dressed and tended to the rest o’the Warrens, and the tracks o’shite and porridge throughout Honor’s Rest.While I tidied the rest of the basement, a bottle in one hand and a feather duster in the other, I happened upon a small paper bag, nearly crushed in wrinkles and a worn label. No idea what it read as the text was so faded, but it must’ve been of some importance! Inside was a ruby nearly the size of a bluebird egg! Well, knowing it wasn’t my name on that label (why would it be), I simply crumpled the wee brown sack back up and placed it in more plain view: next to the bottled liquor for Master Bethoir’s gaze later.I was already borrowing the “Knights Tales” and helped myself to two bottles of libation. This wee egg? Not mine. Mayhap one of the Namazu? Or Master Bethoir’s? Gods…what if it belonged to the sentient-shite running around the basement? Enough. Enough o’the Warrens. I - I didn’t even bring the laundry home with me. And I left the towel draped across Lady Sepame’s tub. I don’t know if I can face it again…anytime anon.Not to mention: I would be late for my appointment with Miss Kjerstie!! Onward through the streets of Empyreum running with my clockwork cart fast behind me: full of cleaning supplies, two bottles of Master Bethoir’s brew, and a book o’ what appeared to be lovely poems.But seven hells, I need a break. I’m exhausted even just recounting the Warrens…wait until you hear of the apartment._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; out-of-game rolls and Discord RP; session 8/29/22 ))}

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Red and Peach Journals

Dearest Journal,This morning I woke up to my buzzing linkpearl. It was Red! Was aught amiss? Nay. He and Sasha were enjoying a morning at the beach. He filled me in on the happenings o’the Crimson the eve before…but did make an offer I couldn’t refuse - and one in which he may regret one day…He knows of my feelings for Zototo, and the anguish of my heart ‘cause of it. And he knows of the budding feelings I have for Badge. And then there’s us: friends beyond friends. Always a lingering tension, but that’s all. Anyroad, he also knows of you, dearest Parchment. And offered his own heart and ears up to act as the same. Not just a thing that I may record my feelings, but a trust and beloved friend who could listen and offer advice and solace.I warned him: I’d prattle his ears off. He didn’t seem to mind one bit. Aye. Red is now my employer, best friend, and Journal. But don’t worry, Journal - I’ll still write in ya. I teased if he’d meant to take the tip of my quill to his flesh as you do, Parchment. And you know what? He fessed up he’s furiously ticklish.Gods, I’ll have to remember that. A duel o’feathers. Big, large feathers! The largest Hep could find. In fact, I’ve already sent her out to the market in search of such a thing. Anyroad, we would continue our tradition of snuggles after nights o’the Crimson. I’m so glad it moved to Goblet. So much closer than Shirogane. I’d always offered him my bed, even if I weren’t in it: Hep knows to let him in. Shite. I should just send him a key. Aye. I’ll have a copy of the estate’s key made and give it to him the next we meet.I offered the same to him: I would make my heart and ears his to take in whatever he so desired to share. Whether it be joys, heartache, fears, or even dreams. All of it. I, too, shall be his Journal. ‘Tis what Best Friends do; aye? And with that? He and Sasha were to enjoy the beaches of their seaside home. And I had laundry to tend.A bell or two later, I hailed him on my pearl - aye; if he was free, I was ready to ramble about all the things as I washed the bedlinens in preparation of his arrival that evening after the casino. I prattled on and on for nearly a quarter of a bell filling him on details I’ve probably already told him in the past. How I first met Zototo. Gods. All the feelings. Our portrait. The misadventures in Halatali. His lessons of self-defense. Our first, well only, dance. Our kiss. The evening we confessed feeling far more for each other than pure friendship - but that his Warrior mentor needed to grant permission for us to simply be. As it turned out? I was deemed a distraction from his training. Swiving bluebird. Mayhap Zototos’ heart wasn’t ready for the step forward? I’m certain that stupid bird doesn’t actually talk or teach.Anyroad, that was three moons ago. And my letters have gone unanswered or undelivered. But we already know that. I was afraid mayhap he’d found another Love. Or worse: dead. And that Moon’s stolen well, nay, I freely gave and took of it - Moon’s heavy kiss. And the flutterings in my stomach I get around Badge? And the wee flames that fan my face when I greet Red across his lips? Nay. I’ve needs. And all these beautiful friends of mind remind me of such every day.True to his word, my Red offered sound words of wisdom: Although Zototo was likely sincere when he professed his feelings for me three moons ago…his heart is likely far more dedicated to his path. Aye. A Warrior. Nay. A HERO. ‘tis what he always said he was to become. A great one, at that. And that Zototo would likely want me to find my own happiness. Not waste away in sadness and longing for a Delivery Moogle to bring a piece of his love in an envelope, penned in his own hand…rather than an Undeliverable notation on mine.Anyone in love would usually want their partner’s happiness at all costs. Red’s words; not mine. Aye.So I asked what’d Alex’d do if he were me: a lovesick pup named Zimzimki Zimki. My Bloom said that he would cherish the time I’d shared with Zototo, that all those memories we made together were happy ones (even the scary imp in Halatali)...And if the Lalafell were to meet in the future if the Fates so allowed? Embrace the happiness we shared and have a conversation to see where we both stood then. I don’t know that we shall ever meet again. Gods. Even writing that makes me sad. But, to move onward, find peace is the moments we did share, and forge ahead to whatever awaits…Red sounded sad for a moment - mayhap pensive. Did I overstep his invitation to write my woes upon his heart? Nay, but my words sparked some of his own: dealing with amnesia and the who-he-was before Mami and Ben found him? Turns out sometimes the self-he-doesn’t-remember longs to be heard and haunts dreams. But then, my Red endures to push ahead and acknowledge the present and the future. Not his unknown past…He confided to me that his unknown memories, they - they terrify him. Apparently he’s seen bits and baubles of what very well may be memories while he dreams. And the man he may be? May have been? Cold and free of any emotions. Not Alex at all.As I fought to pin the bed linens to the line outside the ‘Suds, I reminded him that dreams aren’t always memories, if at all. Gods, the shite that crawled through my head last night while I slept? I shall not even mention here. Whew. Stuff to make your ancestors blush! Anyroad, I’d be there by his side if he ever did wish to encounter his past-self; however that was to be done. In time. When he’s ready.Anyroad, we both had a full day ahead: he the Crimson to attend, and I to Ishgard to meet with Kjerstie and mayhap tend to the Warrens. And then we were to meet, the two of us, back at the ‘Suds for an evening of Triple Triad, mayhap a bath, and slumber._{((OOC: Linkpearl; Discord session 8/29/22))}

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Compliments to the Chef

Dear Journal,A few bells after speaking with Red, I hailed Badge Dawnstar on his linkpearl to pass over my compliments from his pizza the other eve. The food was delicious. But pray, mayhap he’d like to change his profession to an artist as the heart-shaped pizza was…perfectly shaped. I had asked if such a pizza was meant for Alex and Ume. Apparently, he had meant to affix a note to that box to have me open it away from the prying eyes of Alex and Ume. Nay, there was no note!Nay. It was meant for me. And as Fates would allow it, that box o’pizza landed just in front of me on my table. No note. No name. Purely Fate.Gods, that reminded me of my failed attempts to wash that red sauce out of my dress. Nay. Unrecoverable. Snow white silk was not stained in splashes of tomato sauce and oils. I’ll never wear it again.Neither he or I were apparently going to attend the House of Virtue’s special event for the eve - I already forgot what it was? Anyroad, he’d tend the Dawnstar and I had laundry to tend to myself. Aye. Well, he called me Sunshine over the ‘pearl, so that mandated I burst another bag of sparkles, even though no one was there to witness it but myself, Nibbles, and all the copperfish. Made me giggle anyroad.I inquired if he’d eaten his prunes for the day. Aye, he said. Was he lying? I insisted he answer that question again standing upon Virtue to see if he fell through. Do you know what he said? That mayhap he’d have me repeat what I say a few eves ago in the Sundown to see if I meant it.Shite.He was referring to the confession…”Ilikeyoutoo.” Gods. He remembered. I was hoping he’d be so snockered by that coconut beverage mayhap he’d blocked it out. Nay. I let him know that on the morrow I’d be meeting with one of the Postal Moogle’s Miqo’te workers and a trusted associate: Kjerstie. If anyone could make sure my letters find Zototo, I’ve no doubt it’s her. Badge re-stated that he does care for me (oh how I swoon, Journal!) and if Miss Kjerstie was unable to find Zototo, that Oswood was also a carrier for the Post Moogles and mayhap could help. He wants to see me happy. Aye. And would help me find Zototo. To - ya know - figure out if he and I were to wane or flourish. Gods, if he would only answer my letters. Shite, if those letters could only be delivered.We said our goodbyes to we could both start our cleanin’. But, Journal, I don’t think he disconnected his pearl correctly as he muttered to someone obviously not I: “It’s for the best, you know.” What is? Who was he talking to?_{((OOC: Linkpearl; Discord session 8/28/22))}

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Red at the Amaurot - sort of

Dearest Journal,This morning, just as I was pouring a finger of whiskey into my tea my linkpearl hummed in my ear. It was Red! His ears must’ve been burning as I was just chuckling to myself how we enjoy a WhiskTeas together. And he? Was sipping on peach tea. How wonderfully synchronous of us.Gods. His tone was…I don’t know what the word is - hungry? - as he said he’d savor every last drop o’his peach tea. Why did it make me blush and erupt in gooseflesh? Aye. The whiskey. Ume’s a lucky woman. As are the other partners they each share. I’m sure with a bit of practice, that tone could soothe any savage beast.Anyroad, conversation moved away from our beverages to his time with the staff of the Amaurot last eve at the Saucer. There was Cubus, he said, but would wait until we were at the Hostelry together before partaking of such a treat. And he was able to play Triple Triad with my lovely Emet-Selch! I can’t even imagine how that game would have gone! I wish I were there. Missed opportunities; aye?No regrets, though, as Red filled me in on the details: his opponent was the Miqo’te Emet-Selch and not the Viera. I still don’t understand: the Others. But!!! Alex had defeated my rolanberry mojito-makin’ friend at the hand of Triple. I asked if Emet-Selch appeared somewhat…furrowed o’brow…after the loss. He can manifest a bit of a grump from time to time. But nay! And Red says he believes ‘tis because he mentioned my name before the game began. How wonderful!Alex was a bit surprised at how cordial Emet-Selch and the other Hostelry staff were. Pffffft. I told him they were wonderful people, Journal. I’m glad he was able to finally see for himself. Although, he did say things were a bit…complicated…whatever that meant. Mayhap he referred to their madness? Would they have revealed so much of themselves upon first meeting Red? Nay. I’m certain it must needs be something else.No popotoes were exchanged, alas, but he was caught off guard by their presence as he was simply there to check his tickets. Had I known they’d have been there, and he also going, I would have sent him with a pouch full of popotoes! But, we shall plan to visit the Amaurot Hostelry together anon. I, of course, insisted I’d buy all the Cubus and mojitos we could eat. The Amaurot was more my favored house than his - as he’d never been - and he agreed. Bequeathed the honor of the Bill to me: his Champagne. Champion, Journal. He means Champion.Farfrnir’s Farts, Journal - remember how Red knew of the egg that sits in my nightstand? I’m still not sure how he found it. Mayhap I had told him? I know I had told him of it, but don’t recall telling him where I kept it? Anyroad, he asked if I’d named it. Now why in the seven hells would anyone name such a device? Apparently ‘tis a common thing to name ‘em.As we spoke of the thing, I set down my tea and retrieved it from my nightstand and held it in my palm. He suggested I name it “Olive,” given it’s size ‘n shape. Sure. Why not. Olive. Remind me, Journal, that I cannot catch things after I’ve had a nice strong WhiskTea. Fortunately, the crystal makings of the device and whatever makes it go didn’t shatter upon the floor of my abode.I asked what he had named his egg as mine had come as a pair - I’d given him the dalamud red one. But, he didn’t answer? Or he disconnected? Or I did? I know Sasha had begun to fuss mildly during the conversation.Anyroad, I’m excited that he and I are finally bound for the Amaurot. Cubus. And Rolanberry Mojitos. And Prim. And mad folk. And good tales. And even better company!_{((OOC: Linkpearl; Discord session 8/28/22))}

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A Man Has A Name

Dear Journal,Well, I have a far better name for Alex than Plum! I wanted it to mean something. Not just a crass joke of the man’s nethers or the plopping of the dried fruit into his lap by Ume. After they left, I took the time to think. And really think. I mean really think.I wanted it to be something of his beloved crimson hues. But, one simply cannot refer to a man as “Red.” Nay! More thinking must needs be done. And I love Alex beyond measure…so what else doI love that much? Nibbles! Nay. I cannot name a best friend after my rat.The thinking continued. Well: the Jewel of the Desert! Ul’dah. But I can’t call him Jewel. Mayhap Ruby? Nay. Some folks already name their carbuncles such…he’s no carbuncle. But what of something red in the desert?I set out with Farfnir on a grand adventure, keeping to the safe Thanalan settlements for the rest of the day. And there it was: I found it at the Forgotten Springs - Alex’s nickname.There, off the shores of the muddied spring surrounded by tiny white wispy flowers was a tall, proud, and very red bunch of blooms. I ran back to the settlement’s plaza and asked any who would take the time to talk to me: ‘tis called a Prairie Fire.Tall. Beautiful. And obviously strong and resilient to live and flourish so in these hot temperatures. Aye. “Red.” But now with reason…I immediately hailed Alex on his linkpearl and made arrangements to meet him at ‘Springs when his day calmed down.I rode Farfnir home, took a nap, dreamt of those blooms, and before long it was time. Well, beyond the time, truthfully. I overslept! I should really purchase a bedside chronometer! Anyroad, that meant foregoing my beloved antelope stag and once more traveling the aether currents.I stood alone in the plaza. No sign of Red. And wandered from building to building asking if anyone had seen a tall Hyur with short brown hair and glasses. Nay. I finally just yelled at the top of my lungs and heard a faint reply. “I am here…”

Why I just didn’t use my ‘pearl is beyond me. Mayhap I was too excited and not thinking straight? Anyroad, I yelled for him to keep yapping and followed my ears and found him already feet sticking in the stream. I followed suit. Gods, it felt great. So great, in fact, that I stepped fully into the stream and splashed the man down. Good thing he was already in swimwear and a cotton shirt. He laughed, stating he knew I was gonna do that. Precognisant. I swear it, Journal: he just knows things.Anyroad, I beckoned he follow me through the shallow streambed to that designated spot I’d found earlier. As we walked, he filled me in that it’d been quite some time since he’d been to the ‘Springs. Something about someone named Mami? Oh, how a story should be coming; but, we’d quickly arrived at the spot.

There, beneath the shade of a tall palm tree was the precios bloom: tall and regal. I pointed it out. The Prairie Fire. Also known as the Desert Paintbrush by some locals. I plucked the bloom and held it up to him…explained that I can’t rightly call him Prune or Plum…or hells, even Paintbrush. So, I just settled on “Red.” Good ol’ Red.And anytime I see that bell-shaped bloom in the desert? I shall think of him.The My best friend has a nickname: Red. Peach ‘n Red. Red ‘n Peach.Prairie Fire ‘n Peach.
Desert Paintbrush ‘n Peach.
Nay, Red ‘n Peach.
My li’l desert flower. Aye. He brings me such joy. Much like that wee bud in the sandy landscape.Anyroad, as the sun began to set so did we - into the waters for that story he’d hinted at prior:

Mami, known fully as U’mami Tyaka, grew up in the Forgotten Springs. She paired with a fella named J’behn. I’ll just call him Ben. So Mami and Ben live in Mist, but enjoy the traveling lifestyle. And they’re the two who found Red when he was half-dead and unconscious in the Dravinian Hinterlands; having no memory of who he was or how he’d gotten there. They saved him they did! And he spent several months with them as he regained his strength.They grew close. And opened his eyes to many a thing and a free-spirit. I even think they helped name himself Alexander on account of near where he was found. Ah, where was I? He stayed with ‘em in Mist ‘til he could afford his own apartment and worked his way up the ranks of the Maelstrom. Apparently Mami and Ben are in Thavnair as of late? I’ve not been…

Suddenly, the chill of the water set into my bones. And we were shrouded in darkness with the stars smiling down upon us. Gods. It was beautiful. Time always slips through my fingers while with Red. Too quickly, I might add. I stretched and was about to take my leave, planting a wee friendly kiss upon his upper lip, when he took my hand and asked me to stay but a moment more.He had something on his mind.

Apparently, all of my prodding led him to accept my invitation to the Amaurot Hostelry the next time I was to go! Aye! Finally!! The man and I shall enjoy Cubus! And the company of Emet-Selch and…well, the other Emet-Selch…and the rest o’the gang! And rolanberry mojitos!!!Love is a beautiful thing amongst friends. A Peach and her Red desert fire.Just a few moments ago, I pinged him on his linkpearl, “Hey Red?” and he responded! Aye! It sticks!! And he responds to it! Says he always will. Warms my heart it does…Then it turns out he was at the Gold Saucer checking his Cactpot ticket and guess who was there but the staff of the Hostelry!By the gods. He expresses a desire in the springs forgotten…and finds himself that very eve in the bosom of my beloved Hostelry at a special event at the Manderville Casino? Anyroad, I asked him to pass on my regards. Alas, he had no popoto in his pants. I shall have to inquire how things went…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/27/22))}

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The Sundown and the Setting Sun

Dearest Journal,Gods. How many eves shall pass with alcohol and fuzzy memories? Mayhap I should curb my drinking? Anyroad, once more: we shall begin at the beginning…Yesterday, I received word that Alex and Ume would like to come over for another game of Triple Triad. So I asked Badge if he’d be able to whip up something special for the occasion that I could pick up and bring back to the ‘Suds. He said he’d make more of that miracle food: pizza - you remember? We shared it in the glowy-shroomy-cave? Anyroad, rather than my gil, he asked that I bring some drinks to enjoy with him.Aye. Easy enough. By the gods, Journal - there’s some new concoction at the market. ‘Twas the hollowed husk of a coconut, filled with - supposedly coconut water, but nay - it was far more potent than that! And topped off with a star and hibiscus flowers? It was bloomin’ beautiful! So, I made sure to buy three: one for Bumpkin, one for me, and one for Alex and Ume to share.

So, he - Badge - seemed distracted or something on the linkpearl when I placed the order. I made sure to ask if aught was amiss when I saw him in person - or mayhap we just had a poor connection. He sort of shrugged it off. Definitely not his usual self and wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He threw the pizzas in the oven - shite, he has a nice arse all bent over head in the oven -

Anyroad, it gave us plenty of time to enjoy the gigantic beverages while the pizzas baked. I swear to gods, Journal, they were as big as our heads. Speaking of heads: Bumpkin continued to wear that red-rat-hat. Before he sat down at the counter, he dimmed the lights o’the Sundown Diner just a smidge. His brow furrowed as he stared first at the drink, then me.

I noticed the lights dim and took off my shaded spectacles thankin’ him for doing such. He said…he said “someone he cared about was sensitive to the light.” Shite. You know, Journal, I was the only customer in the diner. And I don’t think he was talkin’ about his hat…I blame the drink. The strong-arse coconut drink. I blurted out I liked him too. Mayhap as one big long, fast word, even. And, Thal’s Balls - he heard…And the cat is outta the bag. Oh…and I told him Alex had seen his vest upon my dresser. Gods, the conclusion that man came up with. Nay! ‘Twas naught more than a missed article of clothing after a long…long…nap.I took one big drink o’the beverage through that straw, burying my blush in hibiscus flowers and Badge tells me I promptly fell out of my chair. All I remember? Takin’ a sip and waking up in his lap, staring up his nose. I think he called me beautiful? Mayhap I wished he did. I don’t know. Like I said: fuzzy. I know he did say he healed whatever goose-egg befell my head when I - um - fell. But gods, I still felt the wishy-washy alcohol through my veins.

I was bound to travel by aether anon to get to the ‘Suds before the Shimizus arrived…so he helped me up, boxed up the pizzas to go, and I ran out - leaving him with my half o’the coconut drink, plus his.I bounced from the Mists via the ‘shard to Limsa’s main plaza, then Ul’dah, then to my house. Gods, I hate aethertravel. But am grateful we have it. There’s no way in the seven hells I would have made it home riding atop farty Farfnir holding three boxes o’pizza and a coconut beverage. I hurried inside and set the table with the fondue pot, melty bubbly cheese (Alex did say to get something extra cheesy for Ume), and added a few chips of the ice wall into the coconut beverage. While I was fussing with the flower vases on the wall, I heard voices outside.Mayhap they had arrived! Aye, they did.I walked out to Alex and Ume inspecting my beautiful new lawn ornaments. Gods, she was so excited. Screeching and screaming about candy and the house next door. Ha. Alex said she wanted it. So, the gambler that he is may be rubbing off on me? I offered: if she could tear ‘em outta the ground, she could take ‘em home.

And do you know what, Journal? She swiving did. I don’t understand. Do you know how many workers it took to plant those suckers and candy canes? And Ume just tore ‘em up as if they were naught more than a weed. Gods. Alex suggested Hep have some Moogles send ‘em over to Shirogane at his expense. Aye. Sound idea. I demanded she find something to take their place. And inward we went. It was Ume’s first time at Sweep ‘n Suds, so it was a treat to show her the ice wall and the launderpot that never cleans Sasha’s shite off of cotton. Gods, that bairn.While she took in the sights o’the wall, Alex asked how Bumpkin was doing. In those words. Actually called him Bumpkin. Mayhap the name shall spread like wildfire! Anyroad, I said he was Grumpkin - given his earlier ‘pearl tone and odd behavior before we started drinking. Also I mayhap mentioned he had a nice arse. Gods. Mayhap like a pumpkin. Round, firm, glorious. Where was I? Not on Bumpkin’s arse…we were headed downstairs for fondue and pizza and coconut beverages and mayhap some Striple Triad!

The Lovebirds; gah, they’re so cute. Talkin’ about having a whole brood of children. Four at once? Nay! Far too many children. But mayhap another in a summer or so - give Sasha a wee sibling. Or keep her the only one: spoil’d as she’d be. Which is fine, mind ya. I have how many siblings and never felt unloved my my parents adopted family.Alex - he called me Auntie Zim. Well, not his Auntie, mind you, but Sasha’s! And whatever future herd they breed. Auntie Zim. Gah. It not only sounds good, but looks good on parchment. Anyroad, I snagged the pizzas from the kitchenette loft and carried ‘em down the wee stairs, balancing the surprise coconutty booze atop the boxes and handed Ume and Alex their boxes. Alex took the drink and sat it atop the table, and I took my seat. We all opened our boxes at the same time.Mine…gods…GODS…mine was in the shape of a heart. Were theirs shaped as hearts? Nay. Mayhap mine was just some horrendous misshapen pie? Nay. Badge? Master Culinarian that he is? Nay. This was intentional. Mayhap I received the Shimizu’s pizza: the newlyweds and such. Alex most certainly didn’t think so, eyebrows waggling at my blush. Some comment about the chef trying to win me over…Ume picked off her own pepperonis and made some chuckle about “Young Love.” By the gods…there was no escaping these two. Alex is bad alone. But with Ume? A force to be reckoned with. Relentless teasing and shuffling o’eyebrows. Gods. Where was that drink? Alex had it!Onward. The pizza was delicious. The fondue was better. But Ume? Beloved wife to my beloved Alex? She insisted she only drink water for the eve. Why? Was she still breastfeeding that little shitemonster? Nay. I issued a challenge - flat out called her a chicken. Gods. That stare…across the top of the fondue bubbles…Alex took a sip of the tropical beverage and I asked for him to slide it my way. I twirled it around and took a long sip. It was cold. And good. And strong. Ume took out some small flask of what Alex called “purple drink” and took a sip. Aye. Chicken. Ume’s a chicken.

He and I ate fondue while she scowled and said something about not being able to hold her liquor. She said that Alex never used to drink as much before we met, but he said it was hard to say no when I was around. Ha. I didn’t know that. I figured he drank like a Fightin’ Finn long before me. Ume set aside her wee flask, Alex complimented her fine arse, and she took a sip of our tropical finery. We both waited, reeking of fruity scents and exotic alcohol…and she barely even flinched. What? She tears out lawn ornaments and remains unaffected by such libation? She stuck her tongue out almost as if flexin’ a bicep.What is she? A primal? A goddess? No wonder he loves her. She can do anything!Conversation turned back to young love. And Badge being a good man and all. And the Shimizus discussed their own courtship while I shoved that straw back in my mouth. Gods, I do believe Alex drank all the booze from the bottom and only juices remained. Nay…Ume took another sip and she turned super flush and giggly. I laughed so hard a piece of pepperoni flew outta my mouth (when was the last time I took a bite? How long had it been there? Why had no one told me?) and it landed square in the middle of the fondue pot! Shite. Did they notice?Farfnir’ Farts - I know Alex did. He nearly spit out a mouthful of the tropical boozy-blend as the meat-disc began to sink beneath the cheesy bubbles. I grabbed the nearby tongs and snagged it out like a pro fisherman! Ume kept giggling. Alex made some lewd remark o’how I handled my meat. Then we all just kind of…finished that swiving coconut somethingorother and fell into a moment of silence. I think the booze was soaking into our aether. Ume stared, hiccuped, then - then she picked up a prune and tossed it into Alex’s lap.Gods! Did she know about the bean joke? And prunes!? Ha! Prune. I shall call him Prune!!! AYE! Wait. We were to play Striple Triad still! I couldn’t even sit up straight. Alex had slumped in his stool with a prune on his Prunes. And Ume? Gods, she slid right out of her stool and laid upon the floor. Ever the valiant savior, Alex wobbled upward, somehow managed to pick her up without falling over, and took her to my Uncle’s bed and tucked her in. Good thing the thing was big enough. I wasn’t expecting guests, but here we were: drunk off our arses. And she was already fast asleep. Or passed out. Or both.

Did you know, beloved Parchment, I was quite blessed by the presence of both Shimizus this eve? Apparently it’s a rare treat to have both she and he together. And when she dances at that club o’hers, she oft wears a mask. Made me think of Moon. Ah, the coverage builds courage or something…Peach and Prune. Well, plum. Nay. That sounds awful. I’ll think of something far more fitting for his nickname. Rather than a game of Triple before bed as normal, instead he stated he’d love naught more than to sleep betwixt his wife and I. Aye. Sleep sounded good. Two of the three most important women in his life. I guessed Sasha to be the third.I tiptoed up on the stool, at the perfect height to undue the frog clasp of his robe, then focused on my own attire. He scooted Ume gently over to the far side of the bed, removed his shoes and robe, and I simply removed all of my own clothes. Naked as the day I was born and none of us blushing. He took the center of the bed, and I crawled beneath the covers on the far left. Wait. My left or the bed’s left? Aye; mine. So it was I, staring at the brightlilies given by Badge, his vest still on the dresser; then Plum in his baggy black pants; and Ume, fully clothed. Good thing it was a monstrous bed. And, nay, no need for a wall of pillows.

He kissed me upon my forehead, thanked me for the night, and I think I fell asleep nearly as quickly as Ume when she hit the floor. Peach, Plum, and Ume.Shite, she needs a name. Anyroad, they left early this morning before breakfast. There was, after all, Sasha to tend to and a babysitter to relieve and pay. Oh, and I kept our coconut husk and threw some blooms into it. Makes a proper vase, it does!PS - I got swiving pizza sauce over my pristine white smock. That shite ain’t comin’ out…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/26/22))}

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Virtue Makes a Delivery

Dear Journal,Last eve there was an odd mumbling outside the ‘Suds door. What was it? I dunno - I opened the door just an ilm, poking Mistress’s handle outward, screeching I knew how to yield my magicked broom. Nay. There was no need. It was the Chef himself: my day had begun with him at the Sundown with Alex and apparently would end with him at my very doorstep? Babaji Dadaji himself.But why? Virtue hovered above a few fulm, out of his reach. And Badge looked a bit…upset. Nothing turns a frown upside down like candy; aye? I pointed out the candied lawn ornaments we had picked out together…how many drunken eves ago was it? Anyroad, they were installed and glaring and beautiful. And it worked. He perked right up with a smile. Grumpkin no more!I asked again why he was at my doorstep so late at night. Bumpkin said it wasn’t him, but his beloved cloud had brought him to Goblet on it’s own volition and prompt tipped offward and deposited him in my yard. He looked…a bit dark beneath the eyes. Whatever reason Virtue brought him here, mayhap I could help. I invited him inside, and offered to make coffee. Or offer him a pillow, as I did have a copious amount of the things.He stepped forward…an ilm or two closer…whispered the new new nickname. I popped one of those magicked bags o’sparkle I kept with me at all times now. It makes me giggle. He says “Sunshine.” I burst a bag o’it. Anyroad, where was I? Aye. He was only an ilm or two from me. I could feel his usual heat. Besides: he’d allowed me to sleep unaccosted at the Sundown that one eve. I could easily return the favor.And gods know Uncle Fofoduti’s bed was large enough for the both of us to spread out and not ever make contact. Anyroad, the decision was made. I didn’t want him trying to head home and topple to his death from Virtue. And he was in need of rest. I ushered him inside, albeit with a mighty insistence.Now: would he share my bed? Or would I be sleeping in the green chair? Gods. He was worried about me sleeping in that oversized chair while he took the bed. So, the only way I could get him to agree to stay at the Suds was we both had to be in the bed.And the only way I could convince myself rumors would not spread like wildfire was that we construct a wall of pillows betwixt us. Again, I’ve got ‘em in spades. He seemed upset - nay - sad? Sad. He seemed sad that I even offered to build the wall of pillows.Journal, Fafrnir’s Farts!! He said he wanted to hold me close. Like that eve in the cave. All his warmth crammed up tight against mine. But…Zototo…shite. I put my hand on his shoulder and gently reminded him I still pined for another, but also acknowledged I was growing some sort o’feelings for Bumpkin himself.And until things were sorted? Pillows. There would be pillows betwixt us. He took my hands in his, stared into my eyes with his golden gaze…and offered to help me search for Zototo. I squeezed his hands. Another time. For now? Rest. This Lala needed rest. But, I did have Alex coming to the ‘Suds bright and early, so he’d have to be out of the estate long before then. Mayhap he could get a few hours of sleep in, though.While I built the border of pillows, I insisted that Bumpkin strip down to his smallclothes to sleep. One simply could not sleep comfortably in those leather pants of his. I would do the same. I’d much rather sleep in my bare flesh, but - well - obviously, Bumpkin was in my bed and I wouldn’t dare.Gods, Journal. Am I grateful we stayed in our smallclothes. When we woke up in the morning, the pillows had scattered. And there we were, once more cuddled close as a pair of spoons in the drawer. We’d overslept. And Nibbles was most assuredly letting me know it was beyond feeding time. I quickly rushed Badge out of the house and got dressed, ran a comb through my hair and barely was ready by the time Alex showed up. Shite. Badge had forgotten his shiny green vested shirt.And godsdamnit...it appears I’ve run out of ink ye…_{((OOC: session 8/24/22))}

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Alex, Badge, and the Sundown Diner

Dearest Journal,A few things have occurred as of late.I sent a Moogle to Moon’s apartment alerting him to the fact that Grinly had escaped and lost his collar. That he was safe in the hands of friends now, but we haven’t been able to locate the collar…Anyroad, enough about the unknown and on to what I do know. Alex and I met at Badge’s Sundown Diner for breakfast and a recap of the sennight’s duties. The first thing through the door was Chef Dawnstar calling me “The Lovely Zim” who gracefully accepted his three prunes. We were given the best seat in the house, which was cleared of all plates and such. There were the brightlilies, of course, and I almost forgot I had brought a Triple Triad board with me as I wasn’t sure Badge had one at the diner.

As we set the board on the table, Badge handed Alex and I each a dice…stating there was no written menu to choose and, as it seemed appropriate, we were to roll for our first meal of the day.With a glint in his eye and a smile, Alex rolled first. He, of course, rolled the maximum pips on the dice: a six. I got a four. Badge chuckled, removed the dice, and walked toward the kitchen giggling. What’s for breakfast? He wouldn’t say!The game was afoot! Both in the kitchen and on the Triple Triad board! Alex played several Moogle cards, which shifted conversation to my ongoing search for Zototo. None of the letters that actually have been delivered, which I’m told are few and far between, have been answered. The bulk of them simply come back to my mailbox, scrawled with “Undeliverable” upon the envelope’s face.

As the scent of butter melting over a hot pan filled the diner, we spoke of investments and gil and the jet black dye market. Prices o’ things going up and down. And how my Triple Triad game has improved, although my cards remained the same deck mostly. Truly, the Random rules we’ve adapted in our visits is a blessing, as I know his collection contains cards far more powerful than my own.Just as conversation moved toward the profits materia was bringing him in the side markets, I slapped down yet another winning card. “Champagne” he calls me…although I believe he means Champion? I’ve not the heart to correct him. Anyroad, Badge said something and threw in his nickname for me at the end o’it: “Sunshine.” Gods. How Alex grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me as he shuffled another hand. Quickly, I diverted topics as we heard Badge cuttin’ up something in the kitchen. Sasha’s linens were so easily laundered this sennight I asked if he’d once more had them pre-laundered. Nay. ‘Twas all mine. Well, all my doing and the sage advice of Emet-Selch, I’d say.

There was no time for a third hand as Badge suddenly walked up carrying trays laden with food. Alex moved the Triple Triad board, cards undisturbed, onto the nearby stage and cleared a spot for all of our breakfast. He and Alex spoke about culinary arts and schoolings (places I cannot pronounce let alone remember) while all I could do was stare at the smorgasbord that befell our table: a Bismarck was plated before me in all it’s golden fluffy egg sandwichness. The very same sandwich he’d made me my first shift at the Crimson. Although he swears ‘twas based on my roll o’the dice and not some scheme of his. And Alex? By the gods, I don’t know how how we was expected to finish all of his: was that a slab o’fish for breakfast? And rice, a broth, some side dishes. And two coffees: one for the each of us in I swear they were Dalamud Red coffee cups - much like the one I’d pilfered from my eve at the Sundown before…

Gods. So much food. Conversation sort of died down as we ate. Badge even set himself a plate far away, although I couldn’t see what he ate, alone - at the counter. Why had he not bothered to join us? Whatever. Grumpkin can eat his breakfast alone. While I watched Alex cram that fish into his mouth and chew, he suddenly advised me I hadn’t cleaned Suckfish’s tank that sennight. I did aught else…except tidy the glass of that horrific beast’s housing.I - I thought he was firing me. Did you know that, despite our having a contract, he offered to void it … “in light of my recent windfalls.” Did he mean Suckfish’s neglected tank? And Badge was there to overhear such a tale? HE DID HIRE SOMEONE ELSE TO DO THE LAUNDRY! I had to wait for him to finish chewing…and to wash it down with coffee…before he smiled and explained he meant my recent winnings o’gil. Twenty million gil could be a lifechanger and if I so desired, could either retire or choose a completely different profession.Nay. I would not. This is all I’ve learned as an adult. And I’m good at it; aye? Well, mostly. And we had a contract. And if I didn’t clean their estate and the Casino once a sennight, how oft would we see each other? Nay. Offer declined.And then he offered something else…to use his contacts at the Maelstrom to try to locate where Zototo was posted. That was sweet of him. I didn’t think he was affiliated with any Grand Company and only knew that he was out with his mentor somewhere deep in the Wilds. And would use some of my newfound gil to hire the best Moogles to find him.His reply?

That I maintain positive thoughts. Farfrnir’s Farts, ‘tis been three full moons of naught but positive thoughts and hopes and waking up alone. Nay. This one last push would be it, I think. Mayhap. Mayhap not. Anyroad, enough depressive conversation over breakfast. I shoveled sugar into my second cup of coffee and explained the recent loan I’d provided to Azelea. We - our table had run out of cream. Bumpkin brought more the second I asked, our fingers touching briefly as he handed it to me. Gods. The warmth! “Dear Zim…” he said. Swivin' Alex and his waggling eyebrows and cheaky grin. I shall shave those wee stips o'hair off his forehead one eve. Just as I entertained such a vision, and gods he would look hilarious, he advised he had a Special Assignment for my duties this sennight!In light of my recent - let’s just call it - Indiscretions with a bucket in the utility closet at the Crimson, he’d like C’alypso and I to renovate and create a restroom for casino patrons and staff. Thank the gods it was C’alypso and not Elisana. I’ve not met C’alypso yet…but Elisana is quite…domineering. With Alex’s seemingly bottomless coffers, I was sure we’d have it ready by the time the doors opened in a few suns.Then? Then we fought over the bill. Who would pay Badge for our fine breakfast? And would he accept payment? Gods, why must this be so difficult! Stuffed to the gills with a meal and having to squabble over payments. Well, thankfully Alex conceded to my earlier superior Triple Triad skills and I was to pay the bill.But how much?Bumpkin doesn’t have prices on the menu. And there was no way I was going to just do the dishes for such a spread. And it was a proper business meeting - not just Badge and I enjoying a meal before falling asleep on that futon - where was that thing hiding anyroad? Well, he too conceded, but only after Alex suggested the bill be at least to cover the cost of ingredients of our breakfast. 5,000 gil per person, Badge stated. I still thought it a little low…and tipped a little heavy.Before we left, Alex hefted a coinpurse my way. I had almost forgotten! The man still intends to pay me my wages according to our contract! Ha. He insisted he continue to do just that, so I may keep my 20,000,000 gil safe and untouched.He glanced toward the Board on the stage. Aye. There was always time for one more round. We left Badge to tend to our empty dishes and we simply picked up where we left off. A freshly shuffled deck and Triple Triad. By the gods, the hand was brutal. Alex simply - took everything. All of it. Every single one of my cards. We cleaned up the stage, but I asked if Bumpkin could keep the board there for our future pairings.On my way out, I spied a popoto in some sort of magicked state of non-decay in I think it was a jar? - mayhap that was the one I’d sent Bumpkin in the mail a sennight or two ago? It must needs be my popoto? Right next to that pair of music boxes he’d received oh so long ago as a wedding gift._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/24/22))}

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A Loan and some Brightlilies

Dear Journal,I know it’s been a few suns since I’ve written, but last evening I hailed Badge on his pearl to see if he could pass a message on to Vollder. I’d not see hide nor hair of Grinly since the Triple Triad Tournament. Mayhap it was Grinly he had? As Badge was right there with the dog and Vollder, he called the fuzzybutt to him, yielding a treat. Bumpkin’s convinced it’s Grinly. Just without a collar. He’d pass on the message, and also to care for the wee thing as I’d have business keeping me busy over the next few sennight. I offered to pay - but, well apparently Vollder’s just as stubborn as Badge when it comes to coin.He hushed his tone a bit and we spoke of the lovely evening in the cave, as well as the fireworks. Truly fond memories.Anyroad, this morning I once more opened the doors to the Sweep ‘n Suds to the public in case anyone was in need of quick laundering. I was scanning the ads in the Herald (saw mine in print, I did!!) and there was an ad placed by a young woman in need of a loan.Well, I had funds. Enough funds I didn’t know what to do with! I had already purchased all the tanks, filled ‘em with endless copperfish (did you know they mimic the glint o’gil?), and had plenty to spare. I hailed the person on the pearl frequency they provided and asked what it was for.A friend in need of something for looooove. Well, that’s how I interpreted their exact words. Ha. Anyroad, they swung on by the ‘Suds and we drafted up a loan and repayment contract: 500,000 gil; interest free and no deadline. Honestly, Journal, if I never see the coin back, that’s okay ‘cause…it was for love. And, I know that Alex and Arliana always help those in need. Always. Why shouldn't I? I've been given the means...The Lala’s name is Azelea Dragonpetal. Quite a fancy name. I’ve got her signed contract upstairs in my desk. I wonder if I will ever hear from her again?

Just as I was closing up shop for the morning, who would walk in but Badge Dawnstar. He carried an oversized bouquet of blue brightlilies and I made him carry them downstairs so we could put them in the only vase they’d fit: the garlic prince!! There. The prince would stare at me as I slept, coiffed with a bouquet o’lilies for a hat.I didn’t ask what they were for. Just loved that they were provided. Although, he did randomly spurt out that he’d found and read you, MY JOURNAL! He promised that the moment he’d realized you were a Journal, he slammed you shut. Apparently, he’d taken some time to feed Cob ‘n Lin and found ya beneath the lid.I made him stomp outside and stand upon the cloud. If he were fibbing, I knew he’d fall right through. Nay. He stood atop Virtue as pure o’heart as they come. Aye. He was obviously embarrassed. But not moreso that I. I wonder which entry he stumbled upon?And now it’s time to find a new hiding spot for my thoughts…

_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/23/22))}

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Badge Made Good on a Promise!

Dearest Journal,Not long after setting you down earlier, there came a knocking at the door. At such a late hour, too, and after I had just settled in for the night. It was Bumpkin begging that I toss on a robe and join him outside.I threw on a tunic and there he sat in pajamas hovering upon Virtue…stating he made a promise that he’d yet to keep. Aye! Fireworks!!! I gladly reached up and he pulled me up next to him…well, upon him, nestled into his lap. There I was: in naught but my cactuar green tunic. No shoes. No spectacles. No eyepatch. No coat.And away we went, skyward up toward the stars. He wrapped his warm arms around me as we ascended and shot in whatever direction it was. Over Ul’dah, above the sands of Thanalan - the moon peeked through what few cloudcover there was. And then over the black seas below until we reached near Costa Del Sol…and he floated us to some pre-chosen perch in the air.And the percussions and rainbow of colors began to burst just beneath us. Virtue’s usual golden cotton fluff lit up in reds and blues and greens and, well - golds. It was as if the cloud had become a giant ball of brightly-colored spun sugar. Speaking of such, Badge reached into the cloud’s belly and pulled out offerings of popcorn and cotton candy. I ate the popcorn - I shall not grow weighty on spun sugar and send Virtue plummeting to our deaths this eve.I tried not to squint as the lights filled the sky, never wanting to tear away from the beauty of it all, while held safely in the arms (and did I mention lap?) of Badge Dawnstar. And at that moment? I couldn’t help for wonder if Zototo was somewhere he, too, could look up and see these very same fireworks bursting. I must needs take my newfound fortune and send out the best delivery moogles to make yet another inquiry.But just as quick as it came, the thought left. And there I sat, eating popcorn upon a glowing cloud with a Lalafell who was present…as the heavens burst around us.Unfortunately, as the finale concluded, I begged to be returned back to Goblet as the loud explosions and glaring lights had given me a headache. I was near remiss to let go his hand when we settled upon my yard. But, inside I went. And straight away to you, beloved Journal._{((OOC: session 8/21/22))}

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The Great Triple Triad Tournament!

Dear Journal,Well. That was an exciting endeavor. The Triple Triad Tournament cohosted by my very own boss, Alexander Shimizu. And some other folk I don’t recall? But gods, there were so many people. And long story short? I’m richer! Beyond my wildest popoto dreams, Journal.

It was held in Shirogane as the sun had begun to dip and I found myself wandering upon a walkway of bright cherry pink gravel, only to be greeted by none other than Alex! Gods, how he clashed against the stones. Horribly so. But, there was a Miqo’te standing nearby and we soon fell into pleasant conversation as Mr. Shimizu was busy with duties and what-not. No real time to say hello to the man except a quick well…hello! Anyroad, U’maro was her name and she finds things for a living. Well, a cat at least: she found a cat in Ul’dah for an old woman. Once. I suppose that may or may not constitute a living?

I couldn’t seek clarification as we were all quickly ushered to form a line to ensure each and every one of us was registered for the big event! It’d occur in a random pairing, each match continuing until one player received two wins; draws would not be counted as a win or loss; and the game set would be a random roulette. It truly was anybody’s game. Badge showed up late and tried to cut in line - I pointed that man straight back toward the end! One must not be accused o’cheating at such a prestigious affair!A whole lot of us were sent to wait in the lobby while the first contenders faced of in the most glorious of card halls, Journal. Gods. It was massive. Table after table, set and ready for the best card game ever: Triple Triad. Some were draped with cloths, others bare, but nonetheless ready. And a prize counter in the corner, along with a pile of gil. A massive pile of it! Just sitting there. Ripe for the plucking.

Anyroad, while we waited, Alex handled random giveaways of gil and goods to keep us from wandering off in our boredom. It was marvelous! And it was chaotic. I thought Badge had advanced to the next round, but apparently nay!

And guess who I was pitted against first? Vollder! The Gold Nugget himself!! Of all pairs: his large frame and my wee one, hunkering over a table. And by the gods, Journal, it was one hellava first bout. By the time it ended, we were the only two standing in the grand hall. Badge was watching, with his panda-hat. And Alex even came by to cheer us on. Or mayhap to simply spurn us on? One mustn’t rush the cards.

Gods how I was sweating. But if memory serves, our first hand was a draw, I took the second, followed by two more draws, Vollder’s capture of the table, and finally, my second win. I was exhausted.

There was no time to rest, though, as I was called back into the card hall to fight my next opponent: Eyrilona. I remembered those pants from the Crimson! And inquired as we played: Aye, they were the patron of Alex’s casino! Again, we were the last two standing. Was it me? Was I taking too long? Although the game took a while, it was won in less hands that Vollder’s. I took the first, then a draw, then I took the last. Aye! Onward!I saw the Miqo’te I had met outside had also advanced and here we were: in the semi-finals. Myself. U’maro. A viera I’d not yet met and another Miqo’te I’d no idea who she was either. The rules for the semi-finals were adjusted: no longer was it the first to two wins, but the first to three.

The Viera was to be my foe: dressed in naught but a coverlet and small swim trunks. Nay, they appeared more smallclothes than trunks. A tactic of distraction, I surmise. It failed! Egil was his name, if I recall. And by the gods, again, A long and exhausting battle. We very well may have been the last in the hall again, but this time, all those who waited in the lobby were invited to cheer us on! Vollder, Badge…Alex. I saw them outta the corner of my eye. It was marvelous. And gods, Egil was a dance partner!I won the first two hands. Thought I had the win in the bag before Egil took the table. Then three long draws…before I won the last hand! I was advancing to the finals. Whatever that meant…but who would be my opponent?Hanna. The other Miqo’te. U’maro had fallen. BUT - U’maro and Egil had to face off to determine who would come in third place. Gods, how we crowded them in the card hall. I - I don’t recall who won? I was still so shocked I’d be moving forward.

It truly must needs be all that time spent playing Triple with Alex. There was a short intermission called before the final battle and I ran to find the restrooms. Gods, my bladder. But first Alex found me in the lobby, and bent to whisper in my ear:“I don’t want you to freak out…but win or lost this next round, you’ve just won 20,000,000 gil.” I may have shat myself then and there. What? Truly he must be jesting. He…he wasn’t jesting. Well, that was - thrilling. Beyond thrilling. And if I had to piss before that whispered announcement; imagine my pressing need to empty my bladder then?Gods.No pressure. It’s just a card game. If second place won 20,000,000 gil, how much would first place win? Nay. Best not to think about gil. Cards. There were cards to play! I was to be pitted against Hanna, the gentle Miqo’te. By the gods, her cards were a force to behold! And how everyone crowded in to cheer us on!

Turns out she works at a club that deals in Triple Triad. So, some folks called her the Queen o’Cards. Or something like that. The game was…intense. She won the first hand, followed by two draws. Then she won the fourth hand. If she won the next, it would have all been over. But Alex screamed proudly as I won my one hand. Then Hanna finished the job and took first place. But what was that? Six hands of Triple Triad against the Queen o’Cards. But gods, I won one! ONE! I was a puddle o’sweat by the time Hanna was proclaimed the winner of the entire tournament. And my legs were noodles when I claimed my own heaping bags of gil.And Alex? He was the first person I saw when I turned around, sat upon the ground with me as my wee legs would hold me up…and I suggested I’d need a bigger fishtank. He, smart man that he is, had an even better suggestion: Just get more fish tanks!! Aye. Brilliant plan. He helped me up and we plopped upon the couch in the lobby with Vollder and Bumpkin.

Badge had apparently won some gil himself in one fo the giveaways. And Vollder a jacket? Didn’t fit him, though, so it now belonged to Badge, too. And Journal? Alex jested that I could afford to buy the Sundown Diner. Aye! I could! Hahaha. But nay, Badge wasn’t selling. But I could still buy as many Dawnstars as I wished; although getting that Lala to accept any of my coin.Vollder had a wee mut with him looked just like Grinly. Cape, crown, fluffy ears, but no collar. I called his nam and he stuck by Vollder. I didn’t think it ‘twas my Uncle’s dog. Apparently it followed Vollder home one night from ‘Virtue.I may be Grinly though? I haven’t seen him here at the house and Hep said she hasn’t seen him all day either. I’ll have to reach Vollder in the morning.I do believe Hanna took home more than double the gil I did, Journal. Gods. What am I gonna do with 20,000,000 gil? Farfnir’ Farts. I need more fish tanks…

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Mistress Urleaux and a Commissioned Piece

Dearest Journal,Remember that glove I’d won fair and square off the hand of Alexander Shimizu? Well, I had set a date to meet Mistress Urleaux at her apartment in Ishgard to discuss business. If you recall, she stated she was an artisan of alloys as well as wood. And, besides, it was high time we caught up as it’d been quite a while since we’d met.I cannot tell you, beloved Pages, how happy I was to learn her apartment was a refurbished basement, serving as both workshop and home. But the best part? The lights - no natural light filtered through windows and it was dim lit by candles and embers. I could take off my shaded spectacles at no risk of glare. Oi. Did I not tell you? I did, in fact, purchase a pair very similar to those which Bumpkin had introduced me to. These bore a beautiful shade of salmon, pink and pale and glorious.

Anyroad: Mistress Urleaux! She looked marvelously different than when we’d first met. Gone was her oversized coat and she was in naught but a pair of shortpants and a chemise. The muscles of her artisanal trade showed well within the glowing light. I quickly gave her the bouquet of oldroses I had brought (you know, honoring my family’s tradition) and was given a quick tour of the workshop. Where the magic happens, mind you. The stench of hot iron, warm coals, and freshly hewn lumber filled the air. It was pleasant and brought a homey feeling to the harsh reality that is a craftsman’s workshop.

But then? She waved her hand against the wall and the walls shifted skyward, much like the door at our stool facility in Goblet! Within was a paradise of comfortable couches, candles, scents, and endless tomes. Simply a surprise! And just as beautifully dim-lit! No need for my specs!Anyroad, we caught up for nearly a bell on the happenings of our respective lives. She valued the privacy of her basement apartment as only clientele and vendors ever made way down here, including Hep. I’d no idea she lived within the bowels of the apartment complex. It suited her; even with her noble upbringing.We came to an accord as to the glove she’d bronze for me and I’d be sending it via a Delivery Moogle anon. Cost was no issue. Gods, cost was no issue. Two million gil in my fish tank. Just a silly amount of coin for any one person to possess.Before I left, she reached out to an associate named Siph, I believe, to meet me at the aetheryte plaza of Ul’dah. This one was not only skilled in acquiring ores and precious metals, but in wielding them as well! A paladin first, a friend always; I believe is how Mistress Urleaux described her.

Well, ‘twasn’t hard to miss her at the plaza. All clad in armor and a clawed shield (gods, three scarred furrows into the planks, much like my face. I wonder if she’d met upon her own fish-man-monster? Anyroad, we spoke briefly. And although it was just a short interaction, I do believe we’ll meet in the future. She seems a kind soul indeed.

_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/20/22))}

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Badge, Breakfast, Virtue & a Cave

Dear Journal,Last night was…something else and an unexpected turn of events. But it all started out bright and early with a ‘pearl conversion with Alex about the night before and the aforementioned glove. Ha. Never. Getting. It. Back. Yesterday was the long-awaited Triple-Triad Marathon that Alex would be co-hosting. And, of course, I’d be there! But first…Badge showed up. Bright and early and sportin’ groceries.I had already eaten…so wasn’t hungry; for once. Anyroad, I invited him in. Why was here? At the ‘Suds and so early? Apparently, he had fallen asleep in the suite at the ‘Virtue and figured while he was in the neighborhood he’d swing on by. He handed me the groceries and I invited him inside.The bastard slipped Nibbles a treat from his pocket. No wonder the rat has been looking a bit rotund as of late. I advised him to mind his portions…and carried the groceries myself downstairs.He had already sat upon the plump green cactuar stools, his head in his hands. Gods, he looked exhausted. I poured us two teas and handed him unsweetened as he asked. I, on the other hand, added my usual dozen spoonfuls of sugar...mayhap a little more and yak’s milk, as Lady Sepame had gotten me so addicted to the custom.He offered to make us breakfast, even as exhausted as he was. I had already eaten, but offered he could use my kitchen if he hadn’t dined. And, of course, I offered him a daily serving of prunes.He avoided the topic of daily fiber, but stated he’d leave the groceries here for me. As I rummaged through the bags, inspecting one of the eggs, we talked about his state of exhaustion. Apparently, there had been an argument at the House the night before. And he got into a scrap.I…dropped the egg…and ran to his side to inspect his face, stealing a quick glance at my dresser for my scar cream. He insisted he was fine; naught a little food and a good rest wouldn’t fix. Well, that settles it. I don’t care if I’d already eaten. We were going to eat then and there.I insisted I would cook. He was just - nay - he needed to rest. I left the runny yolk on the table and swooped up the bags to my kitchenette. How hard could it be to fry some eggs, meat, and popotoes? As I fought with the pan and the, gods, the everything - I yelled below asking him to fill me in on the details of the argument. Was it with patron? Staff? A highwayman? Nay. He’d give me no details to save me worry.Well, that makes me worry more. But, whatever. As he wishes.I carried down two plates…laden with fruit, eggs, bacon, and cubed popotoes. It took far less time to cook such a meal than I anticipated! Speaking of, the table-egg had mysteriously disappeared. Mayhap Nibbles had lapped it up? I do hope he doesn’t get ill…uncooked egg and all.Gods, breakfast was masterful, if I do say so myself. The popotoes were the perfect firmness - no squish to ‘em at all; slathered in butter and pepper. And the bacon was just as limp as I always like it. Badge said he likes his pork a bit on the crisp side with only a little give to it. He must’ve liked the eggs just how I fried them because he ate them up mighty quickly. Mayhap he was more hungry than I thought?Conversation moved back to that fight. Turns out it was he and Tori…the best of friends…boss versus employer…slinging spells over gods knows what. But apparently things got outta hand and the fish at the House needed to be replaced? Turns out…they froze. Just like my wall. Could you imagine if my beloved copperfish were suddenly just…fishcicles? Nay! Anyroad, I told Bumpkin he had a problem. First he froze my wall - I’m not complaining, mind you, it’s glorious in this heat. But then to be freezin’ the Houses’s fish? He corrected me…Tori flung the ice.He said he’d be fine. And that Tori was as well. All he needed was more rest to recharge his aether. I shoved his near-empty plate back in front of him - when had it shifted to the center of the table? Mayhap the estate’s foundation was slanted? Anyroad, with popotoes still piled high…I sat and watched while he ate every last one of them.The man needed his strength. His aether. And by gods, my popotoes would provide such!!!Anyroad, discussion turned to my night and my glorious ride home on the back of Alex and the victorious glove trophy he’d left me. Badge suggested I have it framed. Or even bronzed by a goldsmith. What a glorious idea!! Bronzed! A proper trophy, indeed!I was so distracted, I missed his question. He had to repeat it: what were my plans for the sun. Well, getting ready for the morrow’s (well, todays) Triple Triad Tournament, mayhap search for a goldsmith for the glove...shite, Journal, his golden eyes just looked glorious in the lantern light. There I must’ve been distracted again as he had to repeat himself. He suggested that his daughter, Weavy, may be able to do something artistic with the glove.Weavy.Nay…besides, she was still out galavanting with her husband. whew saved by the Broc.Well, scrap the plans I made for the sun because Bumpkin had another idea: a ride on Virtue. One with no planned destination. Don’t have to ask me twice. Did he ask? Nay. Ha! But, I do believe an invitation was implied. Anyroad, I grabbed our dishes, threw them in the sink, and packed a whole sackful of food: prunes, skewered fish, Badge’s stale honey croissant, and some other bits and baubles I found in the cupboards. He met me at the bottom of the loft stairs, his hand at the ready, which I took. And made sure to grab my coat on the way out.With no destination. And no deadline. We had the entirety of the sun ahead! Well, most of it, at least. I made sure to ask Hep to feed the boys while I was away…We stepped outside into the sunlight and I adjusted my patch of course. Then he asked where I’d like to go. I had no idea. Anywhere? Everywhere? Nay! The fireworks had to be spectacular from atop Virtue! I wanted to see them. But, he reminded me with an impish grin - that it was still broad daylight and the flowers of the night were bells away. I - I hadn’t meant to imply I wished to spend the entirety of the sun with him upon Virtue. Or mayhap I did? Gods, how I blushed. Anyroad, he smiled, squished my hand again, and said he’d show me the world. His wee button burst once more on that shirt. Mayhap the button was enchanted to know my intentions rather than his? Or mayhap it was just in dire need of mending?An extended flight. Aye! That meant more snacks. I excused myself back inside the house, used the facilities, fled up to the kitchenette and stuffed the sack to near overflowing. Once outside, Virtue was waiting glowing golden next to the golden-eyed-golden-haired Lala who would be my chauffeur for the sun. He had shoved my sack-o-snacks into the very belly of Virtue, stating it held all kinds of things often. And that the food would remain safe, not falling through. If it was solid enough to hold my bag, I asked if I could then stand upon it. Mayhap even sit on the solid baggage that Virtue now held.He wasn’t sure. I poked Virtue, and carefully climbed up onto the cloud and sat precariously on the bag, sinking an ilm or two into the gaseous form. Nay! It was far too rickety! And what if Virtue took a sharp turn? And sent me flailing? That wouldn’t do at all. I insisted if we were to take a flight together, he would once more have to hold me.That didn’t take a whole lot of convincing. Although I did make him promise to deposit me upon the sack if he was too exhausted from his previous evening’s … shenanigans with Tori. And just like that, he swept me off my feet like in those romance tomes, and stepped aloft Virtue and we were off. Up we rocketed into the heavens, me safe in his strong arms, the ears of my Spriggan jacket wildly flapping. Soon, we were flying over Ul’dah and all the folks crammed within her streets appeared as wee ants - nay, not those large beasts of Thanalan. Just wee tiny ants.I thought I saw something glint on the horizon and lifted my eyepatch to see. But nay! It was far too bright and the mid-morning sun caused me to slam it back down upon my face. Badge noticed the newfound cloudiness of my eye and maneuvered Virtue to face away from the worst of the sun’s glare. He then asked to see it. Nay. I had forgotten completely about the medicinal drops provided by Inquisitor Travanchet. And, although the eye appeared filmy, I could mostly see through it (like looking through a glazed glass window) and it only ever caused me pain when the lights were bright. He insisted, and gently lifted the patch upward.Journal? He said it was lovely. “LOVELY” and that the mismatch of eyes suited my usual taste of fashion. That made me smile. And blush, I daresay. Anyroad, I slipped my patch back on as we progressed across the heavens. Did I mention how warm he is? Gods. Suddenly his grip tightened around me and we shot straight up into the heavens. How did we not fall? I will never understand the bond between cloud and Lala. Well, not I, mind you. That cloud never allows me to stand.He leveled out as we popped through a veil of clouds, and began to fly us skipping as a stone across a lake of sheered wool and fluff. The wind was so loud (or mayhap that was my heartbeat) that we had to shout at one another to be heard. He called this “The White Sea” - clever. I wonder what other adventurers have been up here.Rather than shout, I leaned in to whisper and noticed a shade of blue in his hair. Odd. Normally it was - not blue. I whispered, making sure him and Tori would be fine and inquired if he dyed his hair to match my eye. Nay. There was more talk of the fight with Tori - naught which I understood ‘cause Tori’s hair isn’t blue. The cloud slowly drifted to a stop with naught but the white sea of floofy clouds beneath us and he stared off into the distance.Bumpkin said that aether affects him differently than she and he was a smidge upset his hair had picked up the hues of the sky. Why? I think blue is lovely. If he didn’t like it, I suggested he visit the aesthetician, but nay - he said aether didn’t work that way. How the hells should I know how aether works? I sweep. And I launder. And occasionally teleport via the aether-things in town. Anyroad, Virtue once more drifted across the heavens, slowly, so we could actually talk. And he explained that once his aether rebalances (reminded me of my talk with Emet-Selch all those moons ago!!) his hair would return to its regular hue.Suddenly, he tightened his grip around me and shifted his weight, while we were moving mind you, and sat down, taking me with him. He…he said he was tired of standing. Which meant he was tired of holding me aloft. Which meant…he just called me fat…mayhap? I smirked at him and asked, which of course he denied and made mention of my “just right” shape. Smart answer.As we were sitting down upon the cloud, and my sack was wedged just ilms away, I asked if Badge was hungry. His next statement? Gods, it sent me into a tizzy. What were his exact words? Something along the lines of “In the same breath you ask if I called you fat, you inquire about snacks.”Badge Dawnstar. That swiving arse. I demanded he drop me off at the next solid piece of ground we came across. He patted my swiving head. PATTED MY HEAD! And he tried to say he was kidding. Nay. The first statement of needing to sit? Aye; that was cute. But the second? Pffffst. And then he patted my head?!?! I growled his given name…and he relented, gently guiding Virtue downward. Slowly. Too slowly. I may have pouted…and flailed my feet into Virtue’s baggage keep…and intentionally sent my sack of sweets sailing through the skies.Unannounced, Badge squeezed me tighter and guided Virtue to literally flip around in the air in an attempt to catch my sack-o-snacks, lest they land upon anyone below. It gave me great joy to see that he missed the snatch and my delicious foodstuffs continued to descend below through the white sea.Begone sweets. I was already planning on meals of salad, fruits, and veggies. Cake? Denied! Beloved Sohm al Tart? Nay!!! Rice balls? NO MORE! Mayhap my sack would feed some unfortunates in the Brume. We continued our descent through the white sea until we could see ground beneath us. He was still traveling so slowly. But at least he said nothing further.Once safely near the ground, he helped me down. Anyroad, I had no idea where we were. He assumed somewhere outside of Idyllshire. Shite. I remember how far that was from home…Zototo had met me there once and given me the enchanted oldroses. sigh But where was Idyllshire? I saw it nowhere on the horizon. He and Virtue ascended a few fulm into the air. Could I call Alex to pick me up? I didn’t even have my linkpearl on me! The panic must’ve been evident on my face as Badge suddenly mumbled he was planning on taking me to the cave he had mentioned when we played Truth, Dare, or Drink.I felt awful. And, shite, alone and unprepared! What to do?Naught but make excuses and apologize. I asked if he had food. Why had I kicked my sack out?? Mayhap a bit of food to clear my head. Aye. That would be better. Sugar in my blood. Mmhmm. Anyroad, of course he had food. He snapped his fingers and a picnic basket appeared. Then…I apologized for my behavior and asked if we could start over.I don’t know if that made him feel any less…whatever he may have been feeling. But I felt sheepish. And peckish. Food: now. I fought the tears that filled my eyes as he reached into the basket and apologized…then he reached over and gently stroked my cheek. That was it. I lost it. The welled-up tears just spilled right out. Even beneath my eyepatch. And I blathered at him.I was scared. Alone (well, not anymore). And had been (indirectly) called fat. Well, I took it that way. He explained he was sorry, that while in jest it was also poorly worded and inappropriate and that I - that I was beautiful. Gods, that simmered down an angered soul; aye? And stupid tears still kept coming. I should have known that one who was Pure o’Heart enough to ride a cloud such as Virtue couldn’t be cruel and taunt I, or anyone. He also said he wouldn’t have left me alone; rather, would have allowed me to think I was left alone as he watched me safely walk to Idyllshire, as I had demanded to do so.Shite.I messed it all up. All of it. He said we could start anew. As if I’d not lost my temper at his ill-placed words. And my misunderstanding of them. Then? Then he procured a swiving chocolate bar from the basket. A CHOCOLATE BAR! After all this? He thinks I wanted a chocolate bar?! NAY! More tears, Journal. Swiving things.So, he asked how he could help cease such a flow. That’s an easy answer. Toss my arse back on Virtue and fly fast! So, we did. I had to sit upon his lap as the baggage compartment was now empty and his legs were tired (nay, no more plump jokes!). I tried to sit gently and gingerly upon his lap so as not to smash him (ahem…no more plump jokes!!!) and took a moment to settle into the space between his thighs. I worked up the courage to ask if I was too heavy and smashing him flat. Nay! And we were off! Once more cascading through the skies, as fast as Virtue could go, I do believe! Those tears most certainly dried up in the breeze. He wrapped his arms around me tight and my horrendous stomach growled at him. He insisted we eat once we got to the cave. Better not be chocolate…We were flying over a lake, then up toward an opening in a cliffside which spewed out a beautiful waterfall. I leaned forward to catch a better glance, even oblivious to Badge’s warmth behind me…arms keeping me safe from plummeting to an early demise. Gods. It was glorious. The glowing cloud settled down upon a wee island covered in glowing greeny-blue mushrooms, water gently rushing around and then violently down that steep cliff. But we were safe here. And it was dark-ish.

I peeled off my eyepatch and shoved it in my pocket, which was difficult while seated, mind you. Badge shifted beneath my weight (ahem) while declaring he’d keep me safe if any bats flew out. Gods. Journal…as he shifted, I felt it. There was a stiffening! I tried not to let him know I noticed…I mean…that’s a private nature; aye? I begged off, claiming a kink in my hip and a need to stretch.He said the shroomy-light bounced off my clouded eye and looked like when you lay beneath the waters and look upward. The blues and green shimmer through the sunshine and meet the blue skies. Gods. The man speaks poetry. His hand once more found my cheek; so warm.As he turned his attention too quickly to that magicked picnic basket, I searched for pebbles with which to arm myself just in case there were any bats. I found a wee heart-shaped one! That led to conversation of finding shapes in the clouds, especially because he was often within them. The liar - wait - he can’t lie…he said he caught a fish within the clouds once. And ate it! Speaking of food: he snapped his fingers again and a wee campfire appeared, dimming the hues of the glowing mushroom around us.He made pizza. What is pizza? It's flatbread, tomato sauce, and cheese with toppings. What sort of toppings? Well, if your name is Babaji Dadaji, not cloud bananas. I think he nearly left me in the cave for suggesting such a thing. But he did suggest meats can go on pizza…not fruit. Not chocolate or even kakaru powder. And certainly not cloud bananas. He was making us pizza with chicken, bacon, and cheese (hopefully not the stinky kind).I was worried the scents comin’ from the campfire pan would attract other beasties. Imagine it? Fish-man-monster up here? With nowhere to run? Shite. Well, he said he’d keep me safe. But that’s what Moon said. I do believe those exact words. And we almost died, Journal. Anyroad, there were no beaties to assault us while we ate.Just as the sun had begun to set and its golden rays entered the mouth of the cave (and my swivin’ eyeball), it was time to eat. Holy popotoes, pizza is incredible! I began to pull my eyepatch back over my eye to block the light. He asked me to stop and handed me a pair of shaded spectacles pulled from his breast pocket and slid them on my face. His fingers…so warm. The glare of the sun dimmed just as if it’d never entered the cave! It was amazing! I must’ve been grinning like a fool because he jabbed a finger on my nose, slid the specs a bit higher, and said they looked well on me. Well, I’d have to buy a pair! I peeled them off and handed them back, despite his encouraging me to keep them. It was just a few moments longer before the sun completely dipped away and we were once more lit by the campfire and fungi.Oh, and about my eye? He went on and on about how it was perfectly imperfect and suited me. I’m glad it was dark enough where he couldn’t see the blush I’m sure filled my every pore. I slipped my shoes off, rolled up the cuff of my pants, and sunk my feet into the cool stream waters. I closed my eyes and leaned back on my elbows, enjoying the company and surroundings. He joined me, literally hip to hip and shoeless. So warm…Conversation moved to the Triple Triad Tournament that’s occurring today. And I threatened him I’d beat the pants right off of him if he showed up. And, shite, that bled to talk of Striple Triad and I thought of Alex and the glove. And the night neither of us much remember. Ha!! Anyroad, it grew cold as the air chilled around us. I asked if he’d fetch my coat…or just do the thing he does by making things hot.He took me in his arms, pulled me close, and instantly the chill was gone. I fished my feet out of the stream, laid down next to him, and the last thing I remember was a fleeting thought of Zototo and how nice and warm and safe it felt next to Badge.The next morning once he stirred awake, I was awake too. But neither said a thing as we just laid on the hard ground, his arms wrapped around me. I mean, I was pretending to be asleep offering little snorts and snores and mumbles. Was he? Three bells we stayed like that with a slight shifting of hips here and there upon the cave’s floor...at least until my bladder won. We both had the same idea at the same time, it seems. He chose some dark corner and I? Well, let’s just say the stream carried my piss down and over the cliffsides of the Dravinian whereverlands we were.But we had to go back home! The Triple Triad Tournament was soon! We flew back to Goblet without incident or very many words.Oi, and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of Grinly today. Mayhap Mistress chased him around enough that he's hidden in a drawer? Calling his name does nothing. I’m sure he’s around. Right? Anyroad, I’ll write more after the card game!

[[Unbeknownst to Zim, while she was away, Hep (her beloved friend and retainer) had some shenanigans of her own:Hep shakes her head at the lack of the appearance of Zim as night falls and steps inside the estate to tend to the indoor plants and feed the fish. And Nibbles. And that swiving mutt that pissed on her leg. She knew full well from past experience: those minions will eat everything in the house if not fed on time. Hep closed the door gently behind her, and as Grinly excitedly bounded up the stairs and tackled Hep with licks and kisses, she had had enough as his nails ripped open her sleeve. She had a thought, smirked, cracked open the estate door just a few ilms, and eased him out with her foot…quietly closing the door behind herAfter whining outside the door for half-a-bell, Grinly gave up and begans to plod his way through the streets of Goblet…catching the scent of Zim at the marketboard, the apartment’s door until finally - House of Virtue…where he finds Vollder…]]_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/20/22))}

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A Night at the House o'Virtue

Dearest Journal,I went to the House of Virtue this evening; figured I’d play with some of these winnings and try to double it. That must be how Alex makes all his gil, eh? How else can one afford to run his own casino? Anyroad…the fireworks were bursting above just as I rounded the corner of the House’s steps. Reminded me of drinks and rotting fruit in the pool…Mara, Lyn, Alex and I all showed up at the same time. I’d met Lyn once before…mayhap she was drunk then - giggling and hugging everyone. Or mayhap she was just that type - my type - of personality? Anyroad, I thought she and Mara were just friends. Nay? They’re more than friends. They’re adorable together. Bubbly and excited, together.It was good to see Alex. I figured he’d be there, but not that we’d all meet outside at once. It’s always a joy to see him interact all business-like with folks, knowing full-well how he can be when he’s snockered and care-free. Two sides of a coin. Business and well, less-business.Speaking of snockered? Bumpkin was working the bar so I asked if he could make me a Dawnstar. Gods, his face. It was blend of…mayhap honored...but also horrified. Apparently, none of the ingredients were kept on-hand (why would they be?) and he had to run out to fetch them. I assume to the market? But mayhap he leapt upon that glowing cloud of his and traveled all the way to the Sundown? I don’t know. But it was well worth the wait. Top quality and oh so strong.

The dice? Nay - they were not kind to me this eve. Lost 25,000 gil; this is not the way one increases their holdings! I gave up and sat at the bar spying on my boss’s losses and winnings from a distance. Oswood and Badge were sharing jests back and forth. Apparently more than a jest as Badge suddenly stated Weavy’d turn him into ash - nay; not Badge…Oswood!I’d no doubt and must’ve spoken my mind ‘cause next thing I knew there was Bumpkin, leaving the bar (shite) and sitting right next to me. He chided me, stating that that was the Weavy of old; that she was a new fully-matured and kinder Lalafell. Aye. Just as Alex has said. And Tori. And Vollder. And…well…Weavy herself. I must needs remind myself that the screaming, terrifying shouting Lala at the Death Dice tournaments is a persona, a mummery, and she’d not hurt me. Ever.

Alex walked up and affirmed the same…and expressed a curiosity of the Sundown Diner. Mayhap he and I could go some day rather than meet in Shirogane or the ‘Suds? I'll have to talk to Badge. He was to take his leave, so we said our goodbyes as I spoke with Bumpkin a little bit longer; fighting to stifle a yawn. I put down my empty cup on the counter and said my goodbyes. My employer must’ve been on the landing and overheard as the next thing I knew there was a ping in my linkpearl and he offered to walk me home.Such timing the Fates have! I accepted, made my goodbyes, and ventured upward.There was Vollder, not in his typical gold, looking as gigantic as ever at-the-ready to greet guests. As I waved goodbye, I suddenly screeched as Lina scared the shite right out of me. Lurking - nay - simply leaning against the wall. Not even in shadow…but….still nearly invisible to the eyes. Mayhap it was the patch interfering with my side-vision? Or the libation? Farfnir’s Farts, she set my heart apace. She chuckled and stated it was her job to stay unseen and keep the House safe. So, aye. Job well done, Lina. Job. Well. Done.

Outside, there he was: Alexander Shimizu. My legs were a bit noodly with all that Dawnstar running through my veins, so I asked my beloved friend if he would carry me home. I cannot find the proper words to express the hilarity and joy. I’m telling you: business Alex and less-than-business-Alex…Anyroad, he knelt before me, his backside rising just to my height as I stood upon the steps of ‘Virtue. With a mighty whoop, I leapt upon his back, wrapping my legs - well, as much as they would wrap - around his torso, and my arms around his neck. He secured my position curling his forearms beneath my calves and stood upright.And away we rode. He often times sprinting, then walking, then bounding and jumping. I - I couldn’t contain the laughter. Neither could he, I daresay. Now this? This state of travel was far better than a farting Farnfir. But, alas, too soon we wandered into Ward Twenty-One, and he gently placed me upon the grasses of my front yard. I wasn’t ready to be put down. He was warm. And I was flush. Alcohol? Laughter? The feelin’ of his spine pressed against my nethers? Gods. But down I went while he secured more stools from Hep. She’d have them delivered to Shirogane on the morrow.

Before he left, of course, he suggested we play some Triad. Aye! We made our way down to the very special Triad board and - and gods…out of three rounds, two were draws and I won one. It was dramatic and intense, as our bouts often are.He smirked as he piled up the cards on the table and began to tuck the deck aside. And his smirk lingered as he held up his right hand, and very gently, slowly, and deliberately pulled off his glove, one finger at a time, until he laid it across the Triad board.

I offered Alex the excess space in my bed rather than travel all the way back to Shirogane or to sleep on the couches of the Crimson. Nay…he insisted he didn’t want to spread any rumors, especially given my current inebriated state. And with a wink and a kiss, he was away..And now here I sit…writing in you, sweet Parchment, wondering just what I might do with such a thing. Nay, he’s never getting that glove back._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/19/22))}#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite

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Down into the depths of The Warrens

Dear Journal,A few suns ago, I received a filthy envelope covered in … was that slime? Anyroad it was from Master Bethoir - remember - Reed? From the night at the venue with Lady Sepame and the gals. And the dice and drinking. It read that his room needed my attention as his regular housekeeper had become preoccupied. And to “Do be prepared for the worst.” I burned the filthy parchment after I sent a moogle back with a reply…and the appointed sun had arrived. How bad could it be? It’s naught more than a room…I met with Master Bethoir (I shall henceforth never tease the man and call him Reed after today) at House Sepame at the appointed bell. Although he did give me permission to call him Lith if I so chose...but Master Bethoir is more suiting to his - shall we say - station. And Bethoir? Sounds just like it looks.Gods, it was good to see Alfred. Anyroad, Lithslithan was there and waiting, dressed looking quite…well, quite like Lady Sepame herself: all black from tip to toe. Except for that greenish hue of his flesh. Mayhap he needs see a chirurgeon? Doesn’t look healthy.I’ll never tell him that!Before we descended down into The Warrens - his subterranean abode - he warned I may be mauled by Namazu. Shite. Reminded me of he and the crabs of Mist…And as I, a Lalafell, were about the same height of the average Namazu, he felt they may become excited and…crushed? Was that the word? Nay…simply…mauled.Down we went, my clockwork cart bouncing loudly on the stairs, and passed through a false wall - so well-blended I’m not sure I’ll be able to find it again without his assistance. He guided me down a hall and suddenly a bit of noise could be heard, a gentle splashing, and the stones were damp against the walls…and, I’d imagine, soaking up my shoes.

“This way,” he bade me to follow down the long dimmed hallway, but he wasn’t kidding. There was a rush of a stench, a major splooshing of water, and suddenly I was met by a wee mob of Namazu! It would have been terrifying if not for their chorus of welcomes, and offerings of (ugh) slick fish and moist, sogged crackers. They were cute, though. Bowing and doting…until Master Bethoir advised them I was here to clean. Then he clapped his hands, said some (rather endearing words) and they scattered back to their pools, piles, and wherever else they came from. I swear, Journal, they lived in every nook and cranny of the Warrens. And, there was even a wee flappy door some ran betwixt the Warrens and gods know what other section of the bowels in Honor’s Rest existed…

Anyroad, the ceiling condensation dripped down onto the floor, causing a slick film of green upon the floor. The room certainly stank of wet and mildew…much like wet laundry that’s sat in the basket for too long. The light was dim enough not to bother my eye, so I took off my eyepatch…and knelt down and stuck my fingertip into the floor-goo. Oh how it matched my cactuar green nails quite nicely, but then something scurried out of a nearby basket and into the shadows. My scream echoed off the halls.Lith didn’t bat a lash. Nay. Instead? He marched over to a table and literally shoved parchments, scrolls, and tomes off and onto the floor. Why? We’d just have to pick those up later. Anyroad, he made comment as I inspected the green ichor on my finger that it was the quite corrosive bile of a goobbue - or was that the coblyn? Shite. I wiped it upon my apron, hoping it wouldn’t burn through the material…I was grateful to see he uncork a bottle of - I don’t care what it was at this point - and take a swig. Rather than offer me a sip, he offered me a bottle! My kind of employer, this Master Bethoir! Although, I passed on his suggestion of the fermented morbol vomit. Who - who does that? I popped the cork on a different bottle, it smelled almost normal, and took a swig, securing the lid once more. Stepping down off the Lala stool (oi! I was so proud to see one down here; although it makes great sense with all the Namazu running about)...he directed my attention to the pond.Some Namazu had returned to fill it…and I would just have to work around their chattering pestering helpful maneuvers. Master Bethoir even stated he feared his beloved Namazu had spilled an entire pot of tea in the pond just the eve prior. Shite. That would mean leaves. Tiny, sticky, impossible tea leaves. Mayhap there’s a fortune to be told if the pond were drained?I leaned over the wee wall, trying best to figure how to attack the floating masses of swollen rice crackers, tea leaves, sunken fish skeletons, bobbing fish heads, and I - I don’t even know what that was. Anyroad, I made a right mess, sloshing filthy water about with my hands. If only I had a - I dunno? Cup? Bucket? Net?

Master Bethoir leaned against the table, watching - nay, not watching. He was tending to some lint upon his tall-peaked hat. As I suffered with my attempts, he shifted his weight and rummaged through an open crate, stating Kjerstie often used a net…and as he said those final words, he brandished said thing. It’s webbing was stuck with all manner of growth and sludge. Could do with a good laundering in my pot back at the ‘Suds.The stench of the net, Journal, it was far worse than the pond itself. And, it turns out, he failed to mention that Mistress Kjerstie usually wears waders when she steps into the pond. Well, my shoes and socks would be ruined, I’m sure. I could have removed them first? Shite. She had on occasion been known to fall into the water of this pond. But this net? A gift from the gods, it was! Naught remained above or below the surface of the water by the time we finished. I handed him the net as he inspected my handiwork. The first of many such glances, I assure you.He taught me a new word. Detritus - a flowery word for refuse. He speaks a lot in flowery words, don’t you know? Mayhap that hat hides some oversized noggin and brain? “Namazu Detritus” he called all the ick that came up with that net. He opined that my efforts may last a sennight…mayhap two…

Farfnir’s Farts, Journal. Next? Next he walked me to the edge of his table…and gazed lovingly across it at the most ghastly thing I’ve ever seen that sat at the head: a position of honor in most houses. Something about the 22nd? I - I don’t know what that meant, but it was a horrific visage of some demon covered in moss, slime, dust, and the ever-present moisture from the blasted dripping ceiling.

He continued to blather on about it’s “beauty,” letting me know he had actually had it commissioned. The terror! A void-something. That alone should have sent me scampering up the stairs and right out the front door. But nay - such is part of my contract with Lady Sepame. And besides..it’s naught but a statue; aye? Anyroad, one must needs to what one must: a dusting and cleaning had to occur. I - I couldn’t look at the thing. Which was obvious as I couldn’t swiving pick off any of the growth. Mayhap the statue was intended to be covered in hairy bits of lichen and slime?I asked for a tale to keep me…occupied on other things as this stone beast glared at me. Master Bethoir discussed the origins of a bean that use to walk upright, like you and I, Journal. And that said bean was bred to now behave like a regular bean of our time. Can you imagine it? A green bean, or whatever bean it was, walking down the streets of Goblet? I wonder - does that mean my beans are sentient? And they know when I bite their heads off and swallow? Oh…gods…

Reed Lith picked me up at my behest, so I could…better attend to the face of the stone figure. Speaking of stone, Lith said he works with Lalafells often (or was it the Namazu?) and mines stuff. What? I dunno. But he’s used to lifting us slighter of frame….and hoisted me nose to nose with that demon! I…ashamed to say…I screeched. Better a screech than a loss of my wee bladder all upon his hat; aye? I should have brought my magicked stool from Mr. Rho Alex. Next time!! Rather, I shut my eyes and did my damndest…begging off for another drink. Master Bethoir insisted we try again afterward, this time with my eyes open. “Behoove.” Flowery phrasing. behoove… he chastised….it would behoove me to look at the thing I was cleaning. He continued to hold me aloft, face to face with the thing, as he explained it wasn’t terrifying, mayhap a cousin of Nophica he asked. Nophica? Who in the seven hells is Nophica?Gods. Don’t ask him questions, Journal. He still held me up there, next to that thing as he wove a tale of of ugly disfigured bairn of Rhalgr. Who? Shite. I should’ve paid greater attention in my studies. Anyroad, this ghastly spawn named the 22nd (who names their bairn a figure?)...thank the gods he got the hint and gently set me down as we I ran for his liquor cabinet. I swigged off the same bottle as before. And he hissed as the morbol vomit (blech) burned the back of his throat…

Instantly…more…courageous. Or mayhap just - numb; aye? I stumbled on the stool and turned. Thank the gods, he had removed himself away from that “piece of art” and directed my attention to a wee door in the wall. How had I not seen it before? Anyroad, I would be lifting buckets. Very important buckets, he advised.Lies.Buckets full of Namazu shite. I’d say detritus but it was so much worse…Five buckets, mostly full to the brim. Apparently, his beloved Namazu had their own facilities; not just the pond. I’m positive they’d also pissed in that wee waterhole. Next time, Journal? I’m brining a full raincoat, tall waders, gloves…and a hat much like Lith’s. Full-coverage. And a cotton cloth to cover my mouth and nostrils. I still taste that putrescence that assaulted my senses.And, dearest beloved and oh-so-clean Parchment beneath my quill: I know not if it was the alcohol, my heightened anxiety from that accursed statue, or a mingling of the two, but I spilled three of the swiving things. Mayhap spilled is the wrong word? The shite sloshed up and over the buckets’ sides as I trudged up them stairs, fought the doorknobs, tripped on the rug. Alfred only helped to open the main doors, holding his head aloft and nearly pointed straight toward the ceiling. I’ll have to take special care to tend to those rugs…I - let us not discuss those buckets. Or that wee shiteroom. Although, mayhap I can request Lady Sepame install some sort of plumbing for the Namazu below? Buckets? Surely there must be another way? It’s like Lith said - Namazu awful. Offal? Waffle? Offal…’tis the word he used. I had to ask what it mean. Yet another flowery term for waste. The man is a walking encyclopedia set. And, aye, that hat must hide an oversized brain…Apparently, Kjerstie does a far better job hauling shite-buckets than I do. But, members of the House think Master Bethoir insists she do so; nay, he says she chooses to. Who would choose to maneuver buckets of offal? She does it for love of the wee stinky things. Not the buckets, Journal - the Namazu.With that nastiness behind us, Master Bethoir led me around a corner and into his bedchambers. Glory! Books (albeit, in a massive heap) and oldroses! The very color of Zototo’s above my own headboard! I brushed aside the thought of him. I had business to attend to! And, holy popotoes Journal - the bed - nay; beneath the bed was such a pile of wrappers and sticky papers the mound practically held the bed aloft.

I asked if the Namazu crammed such waste beneath the bed rather than their pond. Nay. He said in was a Cob ‘n Lin. Like my copperfish back home?! NAY!!! A coblyn. He indicated that this wee Cob ‘n Lin rummages beneath the bed and pushes all the (apparently muffin) wrappers thus. And - and that I was to smoosh beneath the bed and fish out these wrappers. While there’s a Cob ‘n Lin down there? What had I gotten myself into? I crawled in…and out crawled a small crystalline form bearing two tentacle eyes and stalky little legs. It - it - it brushed against me in the most unnerving way! I wonder what the beans’ legs looked like?Master Bethoir sounded quite pleased to see the wee creature. Called it “Rocky”...it…it was kind of cute. Anyroad, I recovered a pair of soot black smallclothes beneath the bed. And did my best to collect all the wrappers. I must needs bring a larger clockwork cart if The Warrens shall be a regular visit.As it turns out, Lith murdered Rocky’s family - by accident mind you - while mining, and rather than leave the wee thing to the Fates, he adopted it. Much like the Namazu, I presume. As he stroked Rocky’s hard backside, Lith watched as I moved my attentions to dusting the tomes and tried to place them in some semblance of order.He was blathering on about black arts as I was inquiring about he and Rocky when suddenly the aforementioned crystal-beanstalk scurried away from Lith and hid beneath the table. And Master Bethoir? I daresay he smirked. One of those sharp claws nails of his pointed at the tome I was holding…and he matter-of-factly simply referred to it as “the cursed book…oh dear.”Oh dear?

More like OH NAY! The book shifted open in my hands, rattled its pages, and a flying meatball nearly took off my head! The blasted thing circled my ears in search of a meal! Gods, I don’t know what shrieked louder: it or I. Lith seemed none too concerned, snapped his fingers, and the abomination flew nearer to his side. Away from me, thank the gods. There was a fence partition betwixt us.A voidsent, Lith said it was. Not some screeching, flying edible ball of meat…with claws and teeth and an eyeball. I hadn’t my broom to keep it at bay, so as it began to fly back into the bedroom, I hurled a book at it. Missed, of course, and Master Bethoir mumbled it was rude of me…before he began to murmur some incantation and snap his fingers a few times before that beast vanished.Once it was gone, he acted as if it was a regular occurrence…wee voidsents flock to him. Mayhap, he opined, it was his hat. Or just that they could smell the black arts about him. He, though, promised me he was not a voidsent himself. Just some practitioner of the darker arts. As if that’s much more reassuring? But, he smiled down at me, picked his teeth with a clawed finger, and assured me that The Warrens were safe. The Namazu lived, uneaten by hideous statutes or manifested creatures. Aye.

Understandably, I refused to dust one more tome for the duration of my visit. I’m grateful he accepted my proclamation. I’d rather hoist up buckets of Namazu dung. All day. Every day. As he turned and admired his beloved 22nd, he suddenly had a thought.The portraiture frames needed some dusting. One, in particular, seemed especially covered in miniscule dust. How such canvas didn’t mold in the damp air of this underground space was beyond me. Mayhap they were enchanted? I asked two things: 1) who was the gentleman in the portrait and 2) would Master Bethoir be so kind as to once more hold me aloft. He obliged both requests and as he held me up around my waist, he explained that it was Lord Hochifont: an inspiration to “us all.” Well, not I. He was just some elezen staring out of the canvas. Master Bethoir continued he’d never met this Lord Hochifont, but held him in high regard. Sounds like he’s passed, by the tone of the voice: lost of past tense and such.Anyroad, as I was dusting, a feather must’ve caught the lip and out fluttered a piece of folded parchment. We both watched it flutter to the ground; he in horror, I in pure fascination. He - he yelped and dropped me - mayhap that’s why he yelped? As I landed right on my arse next to the thing, I was able to grab it before his fingernails raked across the stone and my flesh. I, of course, unfolded it.By the gods. There emblazoned for all to see was a rather spicy drawing of a shirtless Roegadyn. Written across the front in a very imperfect penmanship was 'LINKPERL ME AYE’ - who was it? I had no time to ponder as Master Bethoir snatched the parchment from my hand and dismissed my services for the day.Says he found it in a bar of Limsa. Speaking of the bar, I headed on over for another swig of that bottle. He insisted I keep the bottle. I stated I would, but if he kept them on hand, I’d keep his little Lord Hochifont parchment quiet. Not to mentioning that fact that he's fostering voidsents within his bedroom…I corked it and plopped it within my cart. An accord had been made!

Before I left, he snapped his fingers. Shite. What would appear next? Mayhap a specter? Or a giant pudding to eat me up…and devour what I had seen while it melts my bones? Nay! Worse!! The throng of Namazu barreled out of their wee trap doors, shadows, and (how’d they fit) jars and pushed upon us as if we were freshly-grilled millioncorn smothered in butter. He shooed them away, clearing a path for me. I affixed my eyepatch and beckoned my cart to follow me.As I left, I called as the false door almost closed behind me, “LINKPERL ME AYE?” I don’t know if that was a hmmmpphh or a cackle I heard as it snapped shut. Gods, I’m glad that’s over.PS - Journal, he called me his miniscule M’lady. HA! Almost as wonderful as callin’ Lady Sepame The M’Lady. It still makes me chuckle._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/18/22))}

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That's One Big Bag o'Laundry

Dearest Journal,Yesterday, I had opened Sweep ‘n Suds doors once more for the sennight to the public. But I had one customer: the one and only Badge Dawnstar…again! Even after the piss-poor mending job I did on his well-loved attire previously? He was back! He had a rather large bag slung over his shoulder…

By the gods he looked like Saint Nym himself. Mayhap he had pies. Or slippers. Or … nay - it was naught but laundry. Twenty-four pieces, to be precise. All silks! And, oddly enough: no smallclothes. Mayhap he doesn’t wear smallclothes?Gods, my mind is thrust back to the day ‘Suds was ablaze and he stood there, completely barren of clothes, even if just for a moment. Mayhap his name should be Branch rather than Badge. Farfnir’s Farts, Journal, it was - nevermind.Mistress, that damned broom, flung herself at Badge the moment he stepped away from the counter. Godsdamnit. She can’t be trusted!!! I practically yelled Brushy and she dropped to the floor at his feet. He gently picked her up and set her upright in the corner. How kind of him. Confounded magicked cursed creation…We settled on a price of 600 gil for the bag. He tried to get away with 1,000 gil. Nay. The set price at the ‘Suds is 25 gil pieces per article of clothing. So, rather, he opted to pass me a rather high quality honey croissant…plus the 600 gil. How does he always have food on him? Not that I’m complaining.I had business in Ishgard a wee bit later, but in the meantime, I offered him some tea…with whiskey, of course. I was excited that he accepted the House drink…Journal…but um…Bumpkin might be a lightweight. He was drunk off his arse in two sips…swaggering and mumbling and grinning and by the gods how he likes to settle in close when we talk. He complained he was hot…that damned silken shirt askew once more. So I gently led him to, and pushed him up against, the ice wall.

It hissed and sizzled and melted into a mold of Badge Dawnstar himself. Ya know how hot cobblestones smell after the desert rain? That - what was the scent that filled the air around Badge and my wall. Just…steamy heat. We stood there a moment or two while I hoped the coolness of the enchanted ice would soothe his drunkenness. Nay. Although, Grinly lapped up a bit of the drippings. So we walked outside for fresh air, took some deep breaths, and by the gods I suddenly felt drunker myself. Mayhap it was Badge and his boozey-breath mere ilms from my face?

Anyroad, we spoke of the deeper things in life; mainly: lawn ornaments. And decided (and I mayhap drunkenly ordered) those candied lawn ornaments would be fitting in the front. Ya know, bring a bit o’solidarity to the neighborhood for the house across the way. It made sound sense…then. I mean, they look nice. And my wooden deck had been devoured by we ‘mites…so something needed to fill the void.Ah. The void. Do ya know Badge hadn’t eaten since the night before? No breakfast! No wonder the WhiskTea hit him so hard. We went downstairs and I fetched the man more prunes. I’m glad he likes ‘em as much as I do, Journal. It’s important to have things in common with folks you fancy. And gods, how I do love when he steps in close to talk. I can smell him. And his heat just wafts over...

I - I just wrote that. Aye. I fancy Badge Dawnstar. I don’t know what it is about him…well, let’s see:

Oh, Journal. He calls me Sunshine - just as natural as if he were saying my name…I love it.Where was I? Ah. Drunk Bumpkin. We wandered back inside where he had begun to unbutton his shirt and kick off his shoes…yawnin’. The man - the man needed a nap this early? I led him downstairs and tucked him into my side of the bed. I got a ping on my pearl while I was up there: it was Alex.

He and Ume had spoken further…and may very well join us one day for cards! Whether or not we shed attire is yet to be seen; mayhap libations should be on hand. Anyroad, I couldn’t stay on for fear of waking my sleeping guest and wished my boss a fair day.On tiptoe, I laundered Badge’s silken attire…and hung them out to dry. Mayhap water isn’t the best way to handle such things? I must needs to more research. It most certainly seems a slightly darker hue than when I started. And…stiffer…if that makes sense?I postponed my errands in Ishgard to make sure Bumpkin was well. By the time was done hanging his finery (where ARE his smallclothes?), I heard movement from down below. The sleeper had awakened! I found him downstairs near Cob and Lin; mayhap he had fed them? His hair was…something frightful…and his shirt was unbuttoned completely. He had yet to pull his boots back on. I wonder how long he’d been awake?While he was up and moving, I asked if he would run an errand for me…and deliver green beans to Mr. Shimizu. He must needs have some at the diner; aye? Aye. Of course, it was naught more than an inside joke: Alex didn’t know it was coming and Badge had no idea what he was getting himself into…I do hope I don’t have to spell it out for you, Journal.Anyroad, dutiful and marvelous Badge buttoned up that shirt of his, smoothed his hair (I don’t know why, as he’d be jumping on Virtue and getting it tangled by the wind), and pulled on his boots. I was laughing so hard. Gods, I hoped Alex got the reference.Badge’s attire simply was not drying well on the line. Ugh. So, I went back inside and hailed Alex on my linkpearl. Apparently my golden-eyed Delivery Moogle had found him quickly (gods, Virtue is fast - from Goblet to Mist and back to Goblet?) and given him a rather large bag o’green beans. Fifty-three to be precise. Who counted? Did Alex? Or did Badge? Likely the chef…or mayhap he knew exactly how many he had in the pantry? Apparently my boss kept a straight face and politely thanked Badge for the requested beans. He even said he may prepare green bean casserole for the Casino guests that eve.I - I think Alex knows I have the hots for Bumpkin. He made some comment about needing to swoon as Badge rode down on Virtue before the Crimson’s doors. Shite. I cracked a joke, threatening to tell Bumpkin of Alex’s affections…and Alex threatened to never pick up another Triple Triad game if I did so. But with that laughter of his, I knew he was jesting. Besides…we’d only just begun Striple Triad! And that man had some trunks to lose! And his wife? By the gods…we were dragging her into shenanigans! AYE!Anyroad, apparently the aforementioned Dawnstar himself felt it prudent to return to my estate rather than his diner…and caught me red-handed talking to Alex about the beans. Shite. I couldn’t stop grinning. He seemed pleased that he could help with such a powerful delivery…and as his clothes were still drying on my line outside and would be a few bells, the man offered to cook us lunch!Who am I to ever say no to food? And Dawnstar’s cooking, at that! But…I didn’t have much. There was - prunes (oh, how he rolled his eyes), skewered fish, honey, tea, whiskey, ale, tea leaves, maple syrup (his own creation), curry, caramels, and a few cookies. He opted to heat up the skewered fish…and boiled some tea.You know what that means?

WhiskTea. I asked if he wanted honey in his. Oh, by the gods, Journal. He thought I called him honey. I don’t know if it was a jest, but the blush I fought…shite. I clarified my inquiry…and yes, he took honey in his WhiskTea.We settled down to fish on sticks and tea cups full o’ more alcohol than tea. He didn’t seem to enjoy my fish much. Well, I didn’t make ‘em - I simply bought them. They were incredible. I don’t know what his issue was. He says he could make ‘em better: a challenge has been issue, Journal. Skewered fishies ala Sundown Diner Dawnstar-style. He had the nerve to pat me while I discussed the finer points of Skewered Fish. The cad.I batted him away with my half-eaten skewer - well, more bone than fish at this point - and thought of Alex and his rapier. “En Garde!” and thus began a grand duel o’skewers and skeletons!I squealed as he called me a cur, rising to the occasion, clacking his skewered fish (far more meat than there should be remained) against mine! I’ve - I’ve never held a skewer rapier before, but I knew my way around a broomhandle. I screeched and stabbed him right in the shoulder. Must’ve caught him off guard; or mayhap he didn’t figure I’d go through with it?He lunged forward, insulted and grinning, thwacked my skewer aside and boinked me atop my head with the damned thing. I countered his attack, running my own skewer atop his head, the fish spines combing through his hair. Mayhap the tea had done the trick? He accused meof filing his cup with more whiskey than mine…I would never! Equal whiskey for all!!!Anyroad, while he was distracted, I dance around him and swatted him across the arse with my skewer. “VICTORY!”...well, I mayhap yelled a bit too loud, but he laughed and fell, prone and deceased, upon the stool. I poke his chest with the skewer’s point, declared myself champion, and he was never to disparage my skewered fish again. And there he lay…his dying groan. And his blasted button popped open once more. That shirt. Never desires to stay closed. I wonder if mayhap it is enchanted as Mistress: following it’s masters intent?Hm…food for thought…later, Journal…Anyroad, I drank the last of my WhiskTea and things get blurry. I remember being transfixed on that button…nay…that buttonhole. NAY. The flesh the peeped from beneath the opened silk shirt. Mayhap a finger ‘round the belly button? Mayhap that was purely my brain playin’ tricks on me?And honestly, Journal? That peek o’belly flesh is the last thing I remember before waking up to the scent of dinner. I don’t know when I fell asleep. Or how I got into bed. Or why my mouth tasted of fish and bile. But there I was, snug as a bug in a rug wearing my silken uniform…it, too, stunk a smidge. Bumpkin was up in my kitchenette making himself right at home. We shared hearty bowls of beef stew - shite - it was delicious. Mayhap I shouldn’t use shite in the same sentence as describing delicious meals; aye?Anyroad, he packed up his sack of laundry - had I plucked them from the line and folded them? I don’t remember? Mayhap between his belly button and beef stew? Had he napped with me? Who cleaned the house? What was happening? He’d answer none of my queries.But by the gods, what a hug before he left. Did I mention he’s so very warm? And he smelled not only of hot grass today, Journal, but of my own suds. Had he cleaned?Mayhap I should drink less…and remember more?_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/16/22))}

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Poolside Fireworks with the Boss

Dear, dear Journal,While I was tending to my garden - the popotoes were looking a little wilted - Alex sauntered up…I know we were to meet that day, but the sun was high up in the sky rather than our usual morning gatherings. Anyroad, he had swung by the U-ACT storage site to order more stools…mayhap that was the delay?

There he stood in trunks, a comfortable shirt, and red sandals. Where did my other sandal end up, I wonder? Hm. I asked if he had enjoyed a swim in Goblet’s pristine pools. Nay, he hadn’t…yet…but mayhap later. That heat was overwhelming, even with the odd fog we were having. I offered Alex some tea…I wish you could have seen his eyebrow arch toward the heavens. “Just tea?” he asked.Nay. Never.If it were libations he was craving today, I suggested mayhap we head to the pools now as they’ve a full bar that was likely open. There always seemed to be someone manning that counter. He agreed…and gave me but a moment as I headed inward to change into my suit.By the time I exited the ‘Suds, he had changed, too. Where? What does it matter? He wore one of those new coverlets I had seen Arliana wearing. Far too fancy…I daresay, Journal, this was the most skin we’d seen of each other since he hired me moons ago? The only other time I’d seen this much flesh of Mr. Rho Alex was when we were painting that gazebo and even then he wore long sleeves…but tight red shorts. Ha. That backside…Anyroad, where was I? Aye, Alex’s backside. I normally never make it all the way to the bowels of the Goblet toward her Pools and just soak the heat away in my wee pot of water lilies…so I may not have been the best guide. I was grateful at one point when Alex opted to lead. That blasted fog! At least it wasn’t thick enough to where one could not enjoy the view ahead…Although that coverlet was just a might too long.

While we walked, I asked after Sasha. Her nappies were so easy to clean this time. Mayhap she hadn’t been eating much? Mayhap, nay, I don’t even want to write it - mayhap she had fallen ill?Nay. Alex confessed while I was convalescing and Sasha’s shitestains piled up, they had a visitor. Apparently word of my injury and inability reached the beautifully pointed ears of she who shall not be named so she insisted on traveling to Shirogane to take over some of my cleaning and laundry duties. Aye. Well, that made sense. I can’t believe she made the journey from afar just for the Shimizus for me! Well, it was likely more for Sasha. But then again, Alex does make friends everywhere he goes, it seems. And she truly was a giving woman. Anyroad…it turns out the nappies and laundry I had washed this sennight were already pre-laundered by the Professional Herself. Shite. But better done than not, aye?Well, we made it to the bar and, just as predicted, it was manned! I immediately asked what Alex wanted to drink - I’m buying damnit! - and he preferred screwdrivers. I never would have guessed, seeing as I’d only ever heard him order a Moon Drop at the House o’Virtue. He did like oranges…he did have that wee tree in his apartment. And I do believe that very tree made it’s way to the Crimson as well? Mayhap screwdrivers would be a drink I should practice making, seeing as he did keep vodka on hand.Where was I? AYE! The screwdriver. I ordered one for Alex and begged for a surprise of something sweet from the barkeep. Then, rather than wait I ran, leapt, tucked my knees to my chest and cannonballed into the pool. I fished my golden bottoms outta my arsecrack as I popped to the surface, seeing Alex still standing upon the steps. Nay. That wouldn’t do. I splashed him ‘til he was drenched enough to have already been in the pool and finally stepped in.

Let the barkeep take his time on the drinks. He’d call when they were ready! Gods, Alex was pasty and I made sure he knew so. Well, I’m sure he already did. We spoke of his lack of exposure to the sun and my too-much-of-the-same. Aye. Well, with the Crimson now in Goblet mayhap he’ll see more sun and sport a tanner hue like the rest of us desert rats. Besides, I was also like still kissed by the sun from Sepame’s swimming lessons.Suddenly, the beverages were announced ready. I swam a circle around Alex as he chuckled (gods, it’s adorable), and walked out of the pool water into the warm air - which still caused gooseflesh, mind you. That slight desert breeze was unforgiving upon wet skin.Shite. I had no gil. Did Alex? Nay! But, as a resident of Goblet I announced I lived just nearby at Plot 9 and would settle my tab at a later date. It…it actually worked. Although if I don’t run down and pay the gentleman by the morrow I fear a moogle may bring an invoice. I settled the drinks on the nearby countertop and beckoned for my boss friend to join me. My flesh had already acclimated to the breeze, but I watched his erupt in wee bumps as he exited the pool.And, dearest Journal, the drinking began. He his screwdriver and I my - I never did get the name of it. We spoke of the Crimson and how it was overloaded with folks last night…did I mention I had visited? And swiped 80,000 of Alex’s coin for myself. There was this rather energetic assistant who appeared later. I do believe he called her Usagi…anyroad, after the Crimson closed her doors for the eve, those two went searching for treasure. Mayhap that’s how he keeps the coffers full after a bad eve of house losses?Speaking of the Crimson…I was suddenly reminded of that bucket. You remember, Journal? The bucket? Anyroad, apparently Elisana … emptied it and cleaned up my mess. Ha. Could you imagine it? She, the woman who hissed at me to alter my garb had to trudge out my bucket full o’piss? I do wonder if any sloshed upon her perfectly cleaned boots? But you know what I learned during this lovely conversation as we sipped upon our cold beverages? Elisana, although bossy, is not the boss of me. Nay! If anything, I mayhap be her boss. Ha. I only have to answer to Alex. None o’his other retainers. Glorious. Talk about a sense of - well, a sense of power.How had the sun already set? The barkeep lit the lights on the counter and the pool glistened with the diamonds of the stars above. How Alex beamed in the light. As Alex finished his drink there was a sudden explosion behind us. I screeched, but he laughed. It was naught but fireworks. He slid - nay - melted off of his stool and suddenly picked me up and plopped me upon the top of his shoulder. I sat there, perched upon my friend, kicking my feet gently as he pointed and we ooh’d and aaah’d at the bursting spirals of color. It - it was beautiful. Although I daresay my arse grew numb quickly upon his round shoulder...

Once the shades of the rainbow faded from the sky and the blasts ceased, Alex gently lowered me back down but upon the counter rather than the stool. Mattered not to me; any place for my arse is a good one. Anyroad, he took in the sights of Goblet at night: the pool, our bar, the nearby houses with their windows aglow, and confessed he was glad the Crimson was now based in the wee desert neighborhood. Aye. I was glad, too. Their Shirogane estate was beautiful, but naught is more beautiful than the desert sun, sands, and blooms.Oh how he beamed when he was this intoxicated. Or mayhap it was leftover flush from the fireworks? I offered him a piece of fruit from a nearby bowl just as he made mention that my skin was so soft. Aye, he was most certainly piss-faced. I wasn't far behind as I finished my drink...And handed him an apple, but tossed it into the pool instead of actually placing it in his palm.It landed with a tiny splash, followed by my greater one as I oh-so-not-gracefully dove from the tabletop. Alex plunged in after the orange as he kept calling it, but was unable to procure the bobbing apple. The man could barely keep his head above water, so rather than risk the wrath of Ume and allowing her Beloved to drown, we moved back toward the steps...And more importantly...the bar. With his excess calls for oranges, I asked if he'd like another Screwdriver.He hmm'd and haaa'd for a moment too long. Aye. That's an aye in my book!!! I yelled an order for two more beverages as I wasn't about to step away from our present position.

We clinked our glasses once the barkeep brought them and toasted to friendships and fireworks. This was lovely. By the gods, this second beverage was far stronger than the first. I don't know how Alex continued to hold his aloft while he swayed.Shite! Where was the apple? It floated no longer and mayhap it drifted along the pool's floor to wrinkle and rot. Nobody could prove it was our doing; right?I will never forget the next moment. Alex pressed his lips nearly into my ear, hot breath upon my flesh, and he whispered, "Zim, we have a problem. "He's swiving right we have a problem: the sunken fruit!!! Nay! EVEN WORSE! He had left his Triad deck with his belongings at Hep's feet. Knowing that Lala, I bet she snuck a peek when he changed...Ha!But he was right. That was a problem...He leaned in even closer, smashing his nose into my ear tip...and asked if I'd ever played Striple Triad…Ha! Three sheets to the wind, he was!! I quickly finished my drink and accepted the challenge. He only had trunks on. I, at least, was clad in two pieces of fabric. I had the advantage!I burped as he helped me up and realized it was quite dark and I was quite spinny. Alex pointed to the stairs and we were off like a pair of rookie racin' chocoboes. Swerving and staggering. And oh so lathered. I was covered in sweat by the time we made it to the 'Suds. And I made it just in time to see Alex slipping his coverlet back on.THE CHEAT!! He insisted he was simply evening out the odds. And that's the last thing I clearly remember...bits and baubles is all I recall...but I do remember losing to a damned Moogle card along with my glorious bikini bottoms. And the man passed out!

Hep tells me she found Alex and I a bell or so later...both on the floor completely passed out. He was still in his trunks...and I was in...well...naught more than "my soft skin," as Alex had stated earlier. Someone (mayhap Grinly?) had apparently dragged down a pillow for our heads...Hep says I was snoring next to him, skull to skull, fighting for space on the pillow.Did I lose all the hands? I only remember the one...which is more than Alex recalls. Ha!! Thankfully, Hep woke me first, gave me a moment to cover myself, and we woke Rho Alex. He was most certainly still drunk...but insisted he had to return home with the stools.He and I chatted later via 'pearl. He doesn't recall one minute of stepping into the estate, our game, or my losses. Hell of a pair, we are: can't even piece together a proper timeline. One thing's for sure: his modesty was intact as he woke wearing his swim trunks. I teased that his bits remained unseen. Although Hep refuses to answer my question if she had spied his green bean or low-hanging fruit when he changed outside earlier...OH and Ume knows. And better yet? I am still employed! Our shenanigans had not upset her one bit!PS: I had instructed Hep earlier to affix pouches filled with 80,000 gil coins to the bottoms of the stools before Alex were to head home. I had won it recently at the Crimson and, as the Fates know, I don’t need the coin. Shite. How they jingled. Alex, being always aware it seems even when drunk, heard them and made sure each pouch was removed and returned to me before he left. He suggested if I did not wish to keep the funds myself, I should give it to Hep and the U-ACT efforts. Mayhap…but I opted to hold onto it for a rainy day…just in case._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/15/22))}

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Closin' Down the Sundown Diner

Dear Journal,I’ve napped! I’ve refilled my ink pot. And now it’s time to finish what I started! After swimming the seas of Mist, I swung by Bumpkin’s diner…for ”burgers”...as he so eloquently squeaked it…I snagged the chair at the table we had previously dined at, draping the towel across the back and hoping my swimsuit was dry enough not to sog through the wood. Well “a singular burger” would be a more accurate statement as Badge explained it was large enough to share and fill both our bellies.I had my doubts. Did this man know my ferocious appetite? By the gods, it’s never-ending…Anyroad, he bounced around his domain behind the counter gathering pans and blades and spatulas and other items. I was thirsty…but he was busy…and I asked if he minded that I join him back there to snag a water. He obliged my request and I couldn’t find the blasted glasses. I turned to ask him where they were, but caught him staring…even for just a moment - oh how his eartips turned red! Mayhap I should have wrapped in my towel?He pointed the spatula toward the underside of the counter to the left. No wonder I couldn’t find them. Who keeps glasses beneath anything? Badge does, apparently. Anyroad, the patty he was forming was … massive … to say the least. Mayhap as big as my head? But I figured it’d smoosh down and some would shrink during cooking? I filled my glass at the tap, downed the whole thing in one breath, and refilled it before dragging it, and a full second glass for the chef, back to our table.I mean, he implied we were sharing. Which meant he’d be joining me; aye? Aye. Oh how the meat sizzled as he plopped it in the pan, the scent of searing flesh wafted on over. Apparently the summer season had the diner hopping today and I wasn’t the first bikini-clad patron he’d seen. Made me feel better about not having any coverlet…Beach bums were something he was accustomed to seeing then. So, why was he staring?I remembered the broom. And the fire. And the burns. And he just stood…there…all in the buff...even if it was just a blink of an eye before I threw him pants. But…gods, Journal. Badge’s…Bits. I quickly drank more water and was grateful I could hear him chopping veggies and wasn’t aware of my thoughts. But I did inquire as to how he fared from the other sun…again asking if he’d succumbed to any burns or injury. No nightmares? No…soot-boogers?His chopping ceased and I turned to find him wrestling with a bun even LARGER than well - larger than him it seemed. It was…ridiculous. Seriously, who orders such a thing? Dawnstar does, apparently. As he gently set it down upon a clean portion of the counter, he explained that he was unaffected by flames and heat. By the gods. Mayhap that’s why he’s a chef? No burns. No oven too hot.And seeing as his daring rescue of Yours Truly a few suns ago: mayhap he should pursue a line of employ with the fire brigade? Anyroad, he expressed sorrow over the state of Sweep ‘n Suds and apologized for not having first consulted Weavy for the word that shall not be written. All is well…the ice wall is amazing and such an improvement to the state of the house. The other wall? Well, that wall was charred, damaged, and resembled a well-tended campfire. I was currently seeking contractors’ bids to repair the wall’s damage.

He carried over a tray with the largest food item I’ve ever laid eyes on…It would mayhap feed four of us…a squashed meat patty, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and onion? The bun - it was…a literal mountain of baked goods. He set it down and continued on about calendars and posing for ‘em. What? What calendars?He explained that there is a certain market for folks who pay for calendars of members o’the fire brigade all splayed out in half-clothes and flexing, sometimes cuddling kittens. By the gods. Really? And could you imagine it? Scantily-clad Bumpkin moon after moon? I suggested that very idea and he scoffed, certain nobody would purchase such a thing. I waggled my eyebrows and encouraged it - I’m sure many folks would buy one.Well, I would. I - I didn’t tell him that. Topic quickly shifted to the burger he was slicing in two like some massive cake. I peeled up a corner of the bun closest to me and sniffed for Badge’s fancy nasty cheeses…luckily, it appeared the cheese for normal folk - none of that refined palette stuff…We spoke of my employers, including my newest charge - and the fact that Weavy and Broc were back from their honeymoon a bit early to move into their new estate! Did you know she told him she’s thinking of hiring me on full-time? Mayhap I’ve done well with her plants! And the bairns are coming!Gods, the burger. It was so very good. The man truly is a master at his craft. I - I had to apologize for sending him out of my estate in a hurry the other sun. The bell had grown late from his visit and I couldn’t have the naysayers and nosy folk of Goblet presume improprieties; aye? His reputation. And mine. Speakin’ of which, the sun had vanished beneath the horizon and the candlelight was hearth were all that lit the darkness around us.He countered and mentioned that I, “the Lovely Zim”, a scantily clad young woman dining in his establishment alone after closing hours. What would the neighbors think. Two consenting adults…Blast! That got a blush outta me. I reached for my towel, covered my lap, and burrowed my burning cheeks into the remnants of my burger.I - I had to tell him. I mean, I thought I had? But Zototo. I reminded Bumpkin that I pined for another. Nay, it matters not that we had never officially been a couple…but my heart still ached for him and I just couldn’t - wouldn’t - lay with another. I felt awful as his own blush rose up his cheeks and tapered out to the wee edges of his ears.Nay! He said that’s not what he meant! His point was what does it matter what others think of two people’s choices - or non-choices, for that matter. Imagine my horror. Mayhap my own lustful thoughts o’the chef were projecting upon the table? Gods. My nerves. The horror. I had…indigestion…and belched. Well, if naught else, it broke the awkwardness of the misunderstanding.He gently explained that even if I wasn’t attached to another he’d still not lay with me. Imagine hearing such a statement. What’s wrong with me? But - he continued: he would only do so upon getting to know and love another. And, aye, he refuses to steal me away from my Zototo. Proclamations drunk on beef patties and heartache? I whelped that I knew not if Z was even alive as my letters go unanswered. Badge said to hold onto hope as sometimes it’s all one could do.Aye. He was right, of course.By the gods, my stomach. I was a plump round dodo bird. I couldn’t even shift in my chair without discomfort. I think he noticed…I asked how much I owed him as there’s no way in the seven hells I’d have the strength or endurance to was dishes, as previously promised.

Did you know, Journal, Badgey offered to lock up the diner and unfurl a futon so I may sleep off my swimming-burger-induced food coma? All I could think if of was the conversation mere moments earlier…that others and their stuffy opinions could go shite themselves.Badge was a good man. His ability to soar the heavens upon Virtue was proof of such. And I was full. And exhausted. And in naught but my bikini…at this late hour? Would be foolish to wander the streets of Limsa in search of the ferry to Ul’dah. Did one even run this late? That settled it: I would stay at the Sundown ‘til the morrow. To hells with others’ opinions.It felt right.He locked the door, flipped his Sundown Diner sign to the “closed” side, and dragged out the massive and fluffy futon. It took up nearly the entirety of the exposed wooden planks. Then he slowly unbuttoned that pristine white jacket of his and peeled it off like a cloud banana, draping it carefully atop a chair, smothering the wrinkles into oblivion. When he finished, he turned and offered to leave, Journal. LEAVE me alone…in a diner…to sleep my burger away. Nay. Thoughts of how easily Moon had broken into Lady Sepame’s estate and hells, even my own estate - I did not want to be alone in a diner! Then he suggested he sleep on one of those booths to keep a watchful eye on the place so I wouldn’t have to rest alone in a strange place.The booths looked…lumpy and hard. Nonsense. I pulled my towel over me like a wee blanket and asked him to come join me - fully clothed, mind you, but join me nonetheless. Oh, how he just radiated heat. Bumpkin Dawnstar: CloudRider, Chef, and Warmer o’Beds. I slept like the dead.

Until my bladder woke me up. I know not what time it was…but by the gods, I had to piss!!! I crawled out of the bed, trying hard not to wake him, unlocked the door, and ventured down the hall in my towel and swimsuit in search of the public facilities. Thank the gods they weren’t far ‘cause I couldn’t last much longer…

The mirror offered a frightful reflection. Not only was my hair stiff with sea salt, but there was a tomato seed in my teeth. How long had that been there? Had he noticed!?! I scrubbed my face as best I could, swished some water and spit, tried to tame my sticky-uppy hair, pinched some color into my cheeks, and wandered back to the Sundown.Pancakes. And coffee! That smell was unmistakable…and I could sniff it in the air halfway to the diner! Badge was making breakfast! I didn’t know I was hungry ‘til I opened the door and the smell hit me square in the face; it was so much stronger within the walls of the Sundown.And my stomach growled. How…how was there still room?It didn’t matter. I locked the door behind me as the Sundown wasn’t officially open and I didn’t want any wayward hungry folk to interrupt our breakfast. Holy popotoes, he looked as gloriously disheveled as I: his hair as skyward as my own, his buttons akimbo - a far cry from the put-together chef’s outfit he wore around the diner the eve before.And with a spinning flourish, he plopped a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me…a freshly brewed cup of coffee, a tiny bowl of sugar cubes, and a carton of cream. There was even two bottles of syrup - maple and chocolate (of course I opted for chocolate) - at the table! I was delighted he fetched his own plate of pancakes. What were those? Not chocolate chips…anyroad, breakfast. I dropped a hefty handful of cubes into my coffee, stirred ‘em to dissolve, and poured enough cream to tan up that darkness quite a bit.

I - he - hmmm…he only added a little sugar and cream. You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their coffee…or so I’d heard. We discussed the finer points of sharing a futon and not being scandalous…he still must ride Virtue; aye? Naught but a pleasant night of sleeping next a friend…albeit a very warm friend…did I mention he’s like a little hearth? A girl could get used to such.Oh, his pancakes: I snagged a chunk he’d cut off for himself (I wish you could have seen the look on his face…) and turns out they were NOT chocolate. Nay! Rather, a berry of some sort. My pancakes were better…although his were still good.Conversation shifted to plans for the day. I had laundry to do, always-present-laundry. And I’d be meeting with Mr. Shimizu on the morrow, so had to prepare. And that I had to somehow scrub the soot out of the tiles and mayhap try to tidy up that burnt wall a bit further. Oh, the guilt he felt was obvious to see in those golden eyes. It wasn’t his fault. It was that damned broom and I made sure tell tell him as much.

Both of us finished eating and simultaneously brought the dishes to the sink. We spoke of my boss, Alex - and how Shimizu was much harder to say than Rho. And we’d both just call him Alex. Journal…I daresay I upset Badge. While chatting about names being easier to say than others…I mentioned ”Babaji”. He kinda froze at the sink, nary dropped a plate he did ‘til I snagged it…asked how I’d learned such a name. I told him Tori had mentioned it at the Crimson. Gods, his face was not happy…but he recovered from whatever pain had struck him, gave me a wee bow with the dishcloth draped over his arm, and introduced himself proper:Babaji DadajiBut he goes by Badge. Something about that lost memory of his and it’s just…it’s just nicer on the tongue. But I could tell he was still hurt. Over what? The utterance of his name? The fact that Tori had told others? I put the plate down…dishes be damned.I grasped his hand and assured him she meant no ill will when she shared it as it wasonly in support of my constant sharing his name to the Crimson’s patrons. He covered my hand with his other…gods…the heat. I wonder if he stuck his hands in a bowl of cold water if it would steam? Anyroad, aye; “Babaji” is a name to be used in private, if I so wished to use it.Nay. I would strike it from my vocabulary and simply call him Badge…or Bumpkin. We continued to wash the dishes - well, I washed and he dried.

Holy popotoes, Journal, I don’t know if he knows I heard…but he mumbled that this was something he could get used to…!!!!!!And just like that, conversation moved to sex. That’s - that’s a natural turn of events; aye? Ha. Nay. I asked how he was still single…he’s a catch: easy on the eyes, a skilled chef, a caring friend and father…Turns out he likes to get to know a person before he - how to put it without being vulgar? before he becomes closeSo, I said if the need ever did overtake him and he had no prospects, he could always go to a brothel. HA. Fifteen shades of red!!! That lala can blush. Anyroad, nay, no brothels for Badge Dawnstar. That deed, he said, should be for love. He’d rather lay with a person that can be all his than he pay for it…or share that lover with another.His eyes flew to the futon for a moment…and it was my turn to blush.All we did was sleep, Journal. I swear.His shirt…and those incorrigible buttons…his shirt was now open, flapping against his sides as he dried the plates I handed him. His bruising was mostly gone. And, as proclaimed, not a single scorch mark. He really should make that calendar, Journal. The muscle that lurks beneath his flesh? Shite. I think I said something aloud…because he suddenly asked if I truly desired shirtless or scantily-clad captures of him. FOR THE CALENDAR, Journal! Think of the profits.Balls. No, don’t think of balls. That’s not what I meant. Farfnir’s Farts!Imagine all the gil. A twelve-moon calendar, each parchment graced with a different pose of Bumpkin Dawnstar in various states of…whatever, it doesn’t matter: just anything. Shirtless. Shorts. Standing within those burning flames of Sweep ‘n Suds. Mayhap even muscles rippling as he beats eggs in a bowl.It must needs happen. I have 2,000,000-ish gil. I can totally front the cost. Mayhap I should commission an artist…Bumpkin has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.He set aside the pan I handed him and ruffled my hair…thrice over. I knew that wild calic had to be standing at attention. Dishes were done. And now? I truly had to tend to Sasha’s shitestains. He offered to accompany me to Sweep ‘n Suds, touting his expertise at dealing with such things since he’d fathered five children himself. Braggart! Anyroad, he was to to fishing that day. Or some day soon? I haven’t been fishing in moons and expressed my longing to gut those wee things (sorry Cob and Lin; not you!).The next words outta his mouth he stopped shy of saying. I splashed him with filthy dishwater ‘til he relinquished not only his soaked shirt (um, unexpected benefits; aye?) but also loosened his tongue. He blurted that mayhap he and I could go fishing…as a proper date…with a picnic and everything.But…Zototo…I gently reminded him that I’d love to go fishing with him…on a date, but only as friends. Who am I to chastise this virtuous soul for wanting to take me fishing when just a few suns ago I reciprocated a kiss from Mr. Moon? I’m a swiving hypocrite. My stomach moaned. Mayhap indigestion? Or guilt? I needed my prunes…they were back at home, though. Shite.Where was I? Oh, fishing. He insisted, aye, only as friends…but I could tell my reaction mayhap upset Badge, so I gave him a big ol’ hug around his neck. I was grateful he still wanted to go fishing as friends and that last night was naught but a protective man making sure I slept safe and sound. No other motives. And dinner? Breakfast? By the gods…wondrous gifts.

He returned the hug, sweet Journal! His arms wrapped around my shoulders - warm ropes of flesh, muscle, and bone - and I blurted out my fears: that the moment he understood I wouldn’t be the sort to put out and wrap my legs around his hips - I was afraid he’d leave him stranded friendless. Nay. Not Badge. Nope. Not Bumpkin! A true friend indeed. He gave me a gentle squeeze and once more ruffled my hair.How’d he say it? That physical intimacy is the cherry atop the sundae? That ‘tis more about the romance than the deed itself? Anyroad, not that that would be happening - gods, I really must needs pay the delivery moogles more…where is he?Alas, diapers. As I kept saying..diapers awaited. I had to find my way home…which meant wandering through Limsa, still, in my bikini and towel. Shite.

He must’ve read my mind. He rummaged through a chest and found that blue Sweep ‘n Suds shirt he had obtained just the other sun. He flung it at me and I couldn’t stop smiling. Oh, how the tables had turned. So he had rescued me from my ravenous appetite the eve before and that morning; he rescued me from the my scantily-clad bikini; and I had one last request: that he rescue me from traipsing through Limsa in naught but a blue shirt and sandals…Of course he obliged. He’s Dawnstar: rescuer o’maidens! Once outside, he sharply whistled and Virtue descended from the heavens - a rush of fluffy golden hues and sunshine. I remembered falling through it’s form before and simply held up both arms, asking that Badge lift me up and carry me as he did before.

Oh, Journal. The twirl. It was like a dance! A bit of a bend in his knees, a hoisting up of The Me, and a twirl through the air! Badge Dawnstar had nearly as much showmanship as Alex at the Crimson. Ha! Although, it did remind me of the dance with Zototo that once…but now was not the time to mourn literal Lost Loves. Now was the time to ascend into the morning sky, gripping tightly to the toasty body of another Lalafell. Whom, I might add, calls me lovely...Mayhap it was the wind pulling at my eyepatch, or the waves that danced below as Virtue skipped across the surface of the sea, or the smile upon Badge’s face as the sun bounced off his golden hair…but my heart skipped a beat.Flying by cloud was far better than a few moments levitating by my beloved farting Farfnir. Although, since I switched his diet to straw rather than lentils (as suggested by Badge), his flatulence has drastically decreased! The chocobo stables at the Sultana’s Breath are far well - more breathable as of late.Suddenly, Virtue - or was it Badge - who controlled this thing? Anyroad, suddenly Bumpkin tightened his grip upon me and we sailed nearly straight up. Up and up and up and up and up!!! Furiously Gloriously fast! The air was torn straight outta my lungs - my laughter and whoops, too – and it was amazing! He It We leveled out and slowly continued eastward toward the desert and slowly the domes of Ul’dah came into view. I leaned my head on his chest as we continued to fly across the skies…slower than when we departed…I daresay he smelled of syrup. Mayhap a minor spill from breakfast? I chuckled, but it too was carried off on the winds.Too quickly, it seemed, the descent had begun. I clung harder to Bumpkin as the angle changed and squeaked as I felt the buckle of my sandal give way - and suddenly my almost-bare foot was now completely bare. Gods know where that shoe landed? I didn’t care. I was in the warm and strong arms of a man who smelled of maple syrup, while we floated aloft a golden cloud that judged me unfit to stand upon it.That’s fine with me, Journal. Just means I get to sniff Badge…An awkward goodbye if there ever was one, Journal. He gently deposited me upon my lawn and walked me to the front steps of my estate. I promised to see him soon (well, my stomach always wins, aye?) and made sure he was aware the doors to Sweep ‘n Suds were always open to his launder emergencies…or any reason, really.He promised we’d see each other anon. I begged him not to make promises he couldn’ keep - or mayhap he’d sink through Virtue on his flight homeward…as he stepped upon that seemingly solid puff of glowing gas, he managed a strange smile and said words that shall linger with me for a while, “Dawnstars always keep their promises…”And…then they flew away…ever eastward. Not toward home?Anyroad, I had diapers to tend to…Nibbles and Grinly were hungry when I stepped inside the doors. I’m lucky you’re kept within my fish tank lest they devour your leather and parchment when I’m away, Journal…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android; session 8/14/22))}

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Swimming Lessons in the Salty Sea

Dearest Journal,Yesterday was the appointed time of the House Sepame Swimming lessons, taught by Mr. Tacitus Moon. He had scouted a shoreline along the houses of Mist. I was to bring the brood with me from the ferry in Limsa and find him somewhere upon those sandy beaches…I hadn’t yet told Lady Sepame whom our instructor was to be. Why spoil the surprise in Limsa?Anyroad, one by one we met at the Fisherman’s Guild in the lower decks. First was Reed, then Theo, then Lady Sepame…and suddenly: Ser Beofoix himself! All donned in non-swimwear - aye; his vibrant blue armor. Apparently Arliana had summoned him without any explanation. Ha! The dragoon would learn to swim today!

Nay. Nay, he would not. It was hard enough to get him to walk the planks of the docks to the wee ferry boat to travel to the Mists. Reed, too, was a bit apprehensive of such an endeavor: but walk they did, dearest Journal. And, as I am now accustomed, Arliana squashed my hand in a vice-grip the entirety of the short boat ride.We got off at the pier and rather than take the wee steps that barely would have had the ocean waves touching toes, Ser Beofoix opted to go the long way around and step upon the actual streets of Mist. So ‘round the long way we went: ‘til we met the steps that would brings us to the sands. Myself and - was it Theodor? Or mayhap Reed? Anyroad, one of the two took off their sandals, too.

Arliana carried her parasol like…well, a proper The M’Lady. And Beofoix wouldn’t step foot upon the shifting sands and opted to stay upon the marbled steps. And there he was: Tacitus Moon - standing gazing over the waves and into the horizon. I announced him with some grand flourish, as is due his skillset and station - but he just stood there: a statue. Ignoring me.Bastard.Arliana already seemed…perturbed…at my selection of instructors, but I advised her he was self-professed the best. Just as I had given up nudging him with my elbow and whispering his swiving name, he suddenly barked to life, yapping at the lot of us to line-up, shape-up, and not drown. I do believe I saw Theo and Beofoix bristle…even IN his armor from the steps.

Did you know that Theodor already knew how to swim? And Akino showed up! But she, too, already knew how to swim. Drat. I had pre-paid for their tutelage…Anyroad, Theo stated he would stay nearby…whether on the shores or in the water…in case rescue assistance were needed. I, too, knew how to swim, but mayhap my small stature made my assistance…less?Well, we had a job to do. And he was the man for the job? Arliana understood…as we eased into the ocean…one ilm at a time ‘til the bottom fell out beneath our feet. Arliana landed smack on her arse on the sandbar and stayed there, pretending to tread water with her hands. Reed? Oh, by the gods, he went all topsy turvy underwater and sputtered back to the surface with a crab or two sticking to him in various places.That, my dear Journal, was Lesson One…traversing the unexpected passage of earth to The Nothingness of water. For the most part, it was…well, as expected. And, to be fair, Moon gave no warning such would occur…But he did demand that the students move their arses (in Lady Sepame’s case: literally off the sandbar) deeper into the waters.Lesson Two: TreadingKicking and waving of hands commenced…a bit of bobbing and dunking…and more crabs. Poor Reed. They were drawn to him as a moth to flame. Then there was conversation o’sea dragons and the horrors of the deep. Reminded me of my time bobbin’ upon the Ruby Sea before Karaku plucked me out…then beneath…then the Blessing.Well, I no longer had to fear drowning. But Arliana and Reed? By the gods, Tacitus was ruthless: they, I was afraid, were nearing exhaustion? Arliana cheated: she apparently had mastered the art of floating upon one’s back…and did so while Reed thwarted the pincers of crabs and creatures. Tacitus had us all swim out further…the currents were stronger…the waves seemed a bit calmer this far from the shore.

I daresay Beofoix even stepped upon the sands to keep a closer eye on his charge. Although, I did wonder if he’d venture into the deep blue if so needed. Theodor joined us, treading just within earshot.By the gods, Journal, speaking of ears, Tacitus called ‘em all knife ears and Arliana spewed such threats and fury from her beautiful lips if he ever uttered such slurs again she’d have him - I don’t remember - but it wasn’t pretty…He begged off and altered the topic to Lesson Three…mastering the art of holding one’s breath, pushing beneath the waves, treasure driving, and making one’s way back up to break the surface of the sea for fresh, life-giving breath.There was gil…glistening golden hues of small discs wavered on the sands beneath us. Deep enough to be problematic for some…not for I, though. Remember, I’d been blessed by the whatever-it-was ritual beneath the Ruby Sea. I will never understand it. But am grateful the Princess allowed me to receive such a thing…if only to better serve the Bastion. I do wonder how the sea dragons are.Anyroad, Tacitus had me go first, to make an example of how it’s done. He knew I could cheat…I knew I could cheat…I think I told the others of the blessing. Anyroad, I dunked beneath, kicked my wee legs furiously, snagged a coin and resurfaced victorious. Arliana would have none of it. And Reed? Too busy with crabs to be bothered. Then Mr. Moon announced he needed all that gil to - avoid going to gaol…of course…so I flipped him the gil-piece I had retrieved. He caught it with…OF COURSE…flourish and a wink.I don’t know how he did it…mayhap by the sheer tone of his voice? But he convinced both Reed and Arliana to simultaneously dive for gil.Shite.They didn’t come back up…and were under for far too long! Before I knew it, Theodor had disappeared beneath the blue depths, as well as Moon, and they each breached the waves carrying a soaked and sputtering swimmer. Theo had Arliana and Moon had Reed. The poor souls. Coughing. Drowned rats, the both of ‘em. But breathing. And nothing worse for wear.Then? Then the master was to show us how it was done. He dove beneath the waves once more. I swear he’s more fish than Viera as he was beneath the water far longer than Arliana and Reed, then propelled out of the water like a dolphin calf, flipped mid-air, and splash landed upright. He smiled and opened both of his fists: each and every gil coin that was beneath the surface was now in his hands.The. Master.See? I had chosen wisely: an expert swimmer to teach my friends. And they’d learned quite well! But, as Mr. Moon is quite the cad, he ignored my statement that I was owed a refund as two students weren’t students at all. Ten thousand gil per student was the agreement. And I had pre-paid 40,000 gil for four. He simply closed his eyes and floated upon his back. I asked again. He shook his head…said a deal was made.

CAD! I swam over and pushed down hard upon his chest, sinking his form beneath the waves. Now ‘twas his time to come up sputtering and gasping like - well, like Reed. He promised me the coin as soon as he found his pants back on the shoreline.And with that? We all swam back to the sands. Moon paid me my 20,000 gil and suddenly bee-lined it for a Miqo’te in a large hat. Flirtatious beast that he was. Reed fought with more crabs and snails and I peeled one off from his backside.

And just like that, I blinked…and suddenly the beach was filled with folks and Moon was gone in whoop and a wave…his advances withstood by the beachbunnycat. The bard from the Crimson - nay, not Tori - Sindryth. And, by the gods, Theo and Beofoix gave him a tease for his swimtrunks. Trunks may be too broad a statement…they were nary a dainty napkin…but by the gods did they look splendid!

Akino brought us more food, Theodor cracked open an abandoned bottle of…I don’t know it was, but thirst-quenching. We lounged for a bit snacking on snackies before I had to beg off to feed Grinly and Nibbles back home. I think it was a great success…and do hope that they remember their lessons. And, at least now are better armed in case to do fall into a deceptively deep puddle or stumble drunk into the pools of Snowsoak Springs.Before I headed home though, I hailed a certain chef on his linkpearl. I was in the neighborhood…and was overcome by the starvation that swimming induces. As the bell was growing late, I was lucky he answered…and that the Sundown Diner was still open. I marched within her doors in naught but my swimwear and a towel, my hair tousled by the seas and salt. Sand in my sandals…mayhap that’s why they call them sandals? Anyroad, there he was: Badge Dawnstar in his chef’s finery, words caught in his throat as he turned and spied me in all my…well…glory.Ha. How he squeaked the word “burgers” was adorable.Anyroad, that’s a tale for another time, Journal. Mayhap later today I’ll pick you back up and fill your pages with what occurred last eve…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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An Unexpected Visit from Alex

Dearest Journal,Last night I had an unexpected visitor: the one…the only…my boss…and dare I say it…aye! Best friend! Alex Shimizu. We weren’t scheduled to meet for a few suns, but there he was in my gateway when I went to check the mail. I kind of…forgot to get the mail until this morning. My Moogle-box’s pom was still all lit up!Turns out Alex was gonna swing on by to secure more stools from Hep. And I just so happened to catch him in the act…Granted, I was already in my jammies and was going to call it an early night. But plans change; aye?Anyroad, I was ecstatic he took me up on the offer for WhiskTeas, and as the weather was so agreeable (when is it not in Goblet?), we decided to sit outside on the veranda, sipping tea & whiskey and talking about all manner of things. The sun had just begun to set…

But do you know what’s horrible, Journal?I partook too much and don’t recall a lot of the specifics!! I remember telling him about Weavy’s broom, learning the proper command word to turn the damned thing off…and the fiery debacle and subsequent rescue by Badge.I remember we gazed at the big ol’ ring around the moon and pondered what that meant. Was it weather changes? Nay. It doesn’t change in the desert. It’s always perfectly hot. Or rainy. Mayhap it will rain on the morrow?

Farfnir’s Farts, Journal, I can’t even recall if he had Sasha with him. Mayap not? And if so, was she - AYE! She was! He had nestled her within the pillows on the main floor of Sweep ‘n Suds…I think?We had…how many drinks? Now that I will not remember. Although, I will never forget it, Journal, when he slurred his speech and asked if I wanted to “Do the deed.” What deed? THE deed?!

I must’ve looked ridiculous…’cause he immediately said he was talking about Triple Triad. Ah! Our traditional deed! Every time we meet there’s a game to be had! Anyroad, we moved indoors and downstairs to my beloved Manderville-penned board. I think Alex kicked my arse? And I remember staggering up the stairs to walk him out…

But we ended up parking our drunken arses down upon the tile…what we talked about? Eh? Only Sasha knows. Mayhap Alex remembers? I sure as hells don’t.Hep tells me this morning that before he and Sasha left, we met with Hep outside beneath the stars. Grinly, godsdamned dog, pissed upon her boot. She was none too pleased…but told Alex she’d have the stools delivered anon. So, at least he was able to get that business taken care of…

Oh. Gaps in my memory. And one ugly headache…I must needs some coffee. Or tea…or mayhap a finger or two o’whiskey, too?_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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When a Cad Comes a'Calling

Dear Journal,Talk about a rude awakening. I was so exhausted after my work at the Crimson…not to mention full o’ Badge’s food and Alex’s high quality ale…that I barely had the energy to change into pajamas before I passed out. Hells, I even left all the candles lit and my eyepatch on…And the house still reeked of soot.There I was dreaming about giant Cubus, Zototo, and a talking Farfnir when I was suddenly jolted awake by a presence in my bed. Nay, it wasn’t Nibbles or Grinly…it was Tacitus Moon, his face mere ilms from my own…sniffing.“More ale?” was all he asked. Thal’s Balls, that man has some nerve. And what kind of watchdog is Grinly if he doesn’t sound the alarm?!? Needless to say, I quickly hoisted up my knees and tightened the blankets around me, scowling at the improprieties of his actions.Although Moon seems to have taken me up on my offer to make himself at home in my home, he failed to once again heed my plea to alert me of his intentions of doing so first. Apparently, I’d been mumbling in my sleep (how long had he been there?) as he asked who Zoto was. Zoto? He meant Zototo, I’m sure. I didn’t realize I talked in my sleep.I scolded his lack of decorum and told him Zototo was the warrior that would kick his arse should he ever learn of Moon’s propensity to pop in and out whenever he wished. He winked his magenta eyes and I reeled suddenly remembering that drunken kiss just a few suns prior.Shite.I kicked at him ‘til he stood, leaving me alone in my bed, tightly squirreled away beneath my blanket fortress. He laughed (the nerve) and asked what party I had attended last eve as the reek of stale ale and sugar emanated from my pores. I sternly told him I’d been tending bar at the Crimson. Then I made the mistake of asking what he’d been up to.Well…don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to. Despite all the noble things he’d done for me in the past, he was still a criminal and a cad. He confessed, Journal, confessed to having robbed a noble during the same hours I had slept. Why would he tell me that? I don’t know. Mayhap it was a test to see if I would turn him into the authorities? Tacitus Moon: a man who saved my life thrice over. A man who delivered answers of my Uncle’s murder. And whose brother had also recently been…murdered. Nay. I wouldn’t tell. But I swear to you, Journal, if the Cad does something to anyone I love, I'll turn him in to the authorities myself.I changed the subject to the upcoming swimming lessons. And by the gods, the Viera stank to high heaven. What was that? Sweat? Grime? That distinct stench of oil. Olive oil mayhap? And then - my stomach growled.Was that his doing? Did the combination of reeking filth and oil suddenly make me starving? Whatever the reason: I needed to eat and he needed to bathe.I drew him a bath, demanding he soak for at least half a bell, using my good soap mind you. And I prepared breakfast of stale bread, skewered fish, and a tankard of ale. I left his meal on the table while I took mine upstairs to draft the contract of cleaning his apartment while he…stewed. He refused my offers to launder his attire.He had the gall to begin to undress before even stepping foot into the restroom. I shouted as he began to take his boots off to preserve some sense of decency and shooed him to the facilities and secure the curtain in place.The deal is made; the contract signed and I’ve a new client in a friend: Tacitus Moon. His apartment shall be a challenge. If it’s anything like the mess he left in my restroom? That ring around the tub is nearly as stubborn as Sasha’s shitestains. And I can still smell him. Or mayhap that’s just the fire damage above?_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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A Special Soiree at the Crimson Casino

Dear Journal,Well, the sun went by quickly and soon it was time to head on over to the Crimson for the special event Alex was putting on for House Sepame. As previously discussed, I was gonna wear my new silken uniform…but nay - Elisana had other plans!As I walked onto the property, she clucked her tongue…such blues and violets were not to be worn by an employee of the Crimson Casino. If I were to tend bar, I was to look the part. She had gone through the trouble of securing a matching coat in my size: dyed that deep dalamud red. Unfortunately, there were no matching hose on such short notice…but (she cackled) she did manage to find something in my size that would be appropriate.Appropriate may not be the correct word. By the gods, Journal, I felt half-nude. Eli nodded in approval and sent me inward as the bell was nearly upon us. I fussed with the hose as I marched down the stairs. There was Alex, at his station betwixt the main tables fidgeting with the hidden orchestrion buttons. Tonight he was to do things differently. He handed me a rather large sack of gil - well - nay, rather he placed it behind the bar for me. It was far too large and heavy for the likes of me. He explained that he would be handing every player a stack of beeswax chips to bet rather than gil. And at the end of the evening, they would turn the chips in to me for gil! 100 gil per chip to be precise.Math. Shite.He must’ve seen my face. He knows I hate working figures - that’s what Hep is for. Anyroad, he said all I would have to do is take the number of chips each player hands me, add two zeroes to the end, and hand them that amount in gil. Easy enough; right? Maybe…we’ll see. He had some shifty things up his sleeves, too, as the top three players with the most chips would receive additional gil. But luckily Alex’d be doing that math himself.The boss headed upstairs to await guests and I pulled myself up and over the bar; careful of the bottles and Badge’s food. Not only had Badge delivered the requested items, but there was a wrapped sandwich with my name on it. The wee label read: “Zimmy…sorry.” It was a sandwich! I sniffed it. It smelled far better than his previous attempts at a sandwich…No time to eat it just yet as Tori, Arliana, and Alex walked downstairs. ((The note is tucked between these pages))

Tori would be providing the musical entertainment and she ascended to the stage, noted I needed a Lala stool behind the bar. Luckily, Alex heard and fetched one from upstairs. Aye, it was much easer to see everyone.One by one, our the Crimson’s guests filed in: Arliana, Akino, a fine gentleman named Caleb, Theodor, Tengri, Snow, and eventually a bard named Sindryth and his piratey partner, Austrelle. The games went on for nearly two bells, mayhap almost three! It was fun for me, watching everyone win or lose (poor Theodor grumpily lost to Poker…but was also my best customer at the bar!).Oh, by the by, Journal - I know nothing of pouring drinks. Hells, I didn’t even know what was what until Alex told me:The brown bottle contained whiskey.
The green had vodka
The red was rum.
Nobody knew what the blue bottle had - so it was the Mystery beverage…although Theodor did say it was rather tart.
There were also jars of sun tea
And Alex provided ample bottles of water to any who so desired.By the end of the night, I was quite the barkeep! Akino had ordered a blend of all the bottles before we knew what was in ‘em. But that was the only drink she had all night. Mayhap it was just that … potent?

Anyroad, Arliana had three whiskeys…and no beeswax chips left. Caleb drank naught but two teas (how dull is that??). Theodor - by the gods - he drank three of the Mystery drinks. I daresay he’s the reason we ran out so quickly! Tengri enjoyed (well, I hope she enjoyed) a Mystery beverage and a tea. Tori had a water while she was working and once Alex switched to the orchestrion machine she had two ales…joined me in one of ‘em. Snow asked for a “red.” Red? Red what? The red bottle? Aye. He had a rum…The bard and his sweetheart? Well, I’d been trying to get them to come to my wee bar all even and finally they did…sort of. By a series of passing the message between Caleb and Arliana, I learned they wanted something sweet. Sweet? Well, I had “tart” - nay - no I didn’t. Theodor drank it all. I had rum, vodka, and whiskey. None of which I would consider sweet.BUT I did have rolanberry cheesecakes left! I smashed small pieces in the bottoms of two wooden cups and filled them up with vodka, stirring with my finger (I do hope no one saw that last part). High praises were sung! Sind said it was like dessert in a glass. Aye. I AM a barkeep!I enjoyed three ales myself. And that amazing sandwich. And some cheesecake…a peach tart…a coffee biscuit or two…The only other person who ate nearly as much as I was Theodor. Comfort food; aye?

It was fun to watch from afar as bets were placed, and the Fates determined loss and wins. Alex was, as usual, a spectacular showman. I don’t know how he had so much energy!We had run out of all of the finger sandwiches prepared by Badge. And I had given away the rest of the leftover desserts to our guests as they departed. Speaking of Badge…I pimped him out to any who would listen: all foods crafted by Badge Dawnstar of the Sundown Diner. Arliana commented that Badge was an odd first name…and Tori called out that’s just what everyone calls him. It’s actually “Babaji.” The bard and his partner said they may even hunt down the Sundown for a sit-down meal sometime. I do hope all the guests that night seek out his cookin’.
I’m trying to remember who won it big that night. But all I can remember is the bard and his ridiculously large hat. It was…glorious.

Anyroad, it was a wonderful evening with friends, both old and new alike. I cannot believe Alex supplied all of the chips, and all of the winnings, out of his coffers. But it was great to see every enjoy themselves - well, except mayhap Theodor who was grumpier than a cat caught in a downpour.Ha! Anyroad, I’m exhausted. To sleep I go, Journal._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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It Nearly All Went Up In Flames

Dearest Journal,What a fiasco today was. I mean, it all started out with one harmless linkpearl call to Weavy’s pop to discuss that damn broom. Nearly ended in the estate in ashes…I can’t even imagine. Shite.It sounded like I woke up Bumpkin…I don’t even remember what hour it was, but this swiving broom kept me up all night brushing at my blankets and sheets and terrorizing the dog. I asked if he could ask Weavy if it did, in fact, have a command word like Alex’s.He suggested I try “Cake.”Nay. That didn’t work. But it was a valiant guess. I inquired if he had actually pinged his daughter to get the word; nay. He didn’t want to bother her during the honeymoon. I walked upstairs to give Grinly and NIbbles a break from Mistress’s constant affections and she, as planned, followed me up.He guessed another word that she may have used. I - I don’t even want to write it:"Shantotto"Shite! The broom…it…gods…it spewed fire from it’s handle straight at the wall next to my launder pot and set the blasted thing ablaze. I was screaming all forms of obscenities while Badge was yellin’ at me over to ascertain what was wrong. I yelled thee was a fire and he commanded I get somewhere safe. Nay! There’s nowhere safe with that damned broom following me around. Spewing fire? Sweeping up smallclothes? It’s a curse I tell you! Luckily, it had ceased vomiting forth the embers of Ifrit and resumed it’s sweeping…I tried batting the flames out with a towel, but it only caught the towel on fire…which I idiotically threw onto the launderbasket…which was then set ablaze. The flames and embers then set the nearly shipping crate on fire. Godsdamnit! Nibbles and Grinly were scratching at the front door, but I couldn’t open it - the fire! Smoke billowed; none of my windows had been opened!I heard Badge whistle over the ‘pearl and the sound of wind overtook whatever words he was saying. I saw the brightlilies in their vase upon my desk - Bumpkin’s brightlilies - and knew there was water within. I raced for it and threw it upon the building flames, but little good it did.Crushing the ejected brightlilies underfoot, I filled the vase with the water from the launder pot…a sort of desperate bucket-throw-fill-repeat process. Nay! The flames were too high! Suddenly a woosh of fresh air filled the room as Badge tore open my front doors (had I not locked those?), the fire leapt at me as the the fresh air cascaded inward and I screeched.Nibbles and Grinly, smart creatures, fled out the crack in the door. And Badge? Ran straight for me as I tried to fill the vase again. He was wearing swim trunks? At this hour? He gently grabbed my hands, looked me calmly in my eyes, and radiated a calming presence; easing my shaking. He ushered me back a step, placed himself betwixt myself and the flames, and snapped his fingers.That’s not going to help!!!!But nay! Some strange ruby red - what was that? An elixir bottle? Anyroad, a floating red elixir bottle appeared above his fingertips, he glowed a bit (or was that just the aura of the blaze?), and he shot a blast of icy aether at the fire. It - it –It did naught but freeze the wall behind. Shite.So what does the valiant chef do? He marched right up, grabbed the burning towel (or what was left of it), put it atop the blazing basket, and marched it right outside to my front hard and dunked it all into my pot of water lilies.The crate and wall were still burning. And it was spreading fast! I sprung back into action, filling the wee vase with dirty laundry water and tried to douse the crate. Suddenly, I felt hands around my waist and I was spun 90 degrees the opposite direction. My own hands full of a water-filled vase and suddenly staring at my front door…I turned to see Badge Dawnstar behind me, grab handfuls of dirty water, and step into the bowels of the fire! In and out and again and again splashing like mad ‘til the damned thing was out. He was a sopping wet and - holy popotoes - a completely exposed Lalafel.Although he had some strange power about him to not be burned by the flames, his swim trunks did not wield the same enchantment. I knew what my purpose was in life! TO CLOTHE THE UNCLOTHED!! I ran toward the counter, which thankfully was far enough from the reaches of the aforementioned flames and pulled out the first pair of SNS trousers I could find. I nearly flung them at him, which he caught (of course) with style and grace.I daresay for a moment he didn’t realize that he was…what’s the phrase…as bare as the day he was born. We both turned away at nearly the same instant, likely both the same hue of red. He got dressed in all the privacy the soot and ash remnants of a shipping crate could afford a man. Then I turned only after he walked behind me, ruffled my hair, and apologized for feeding me random words he thought would shut off that damned broom.By the by, it continued it’s tirade around the estate. Sweeping…no further fires…but just ever sweeping. I collapsed into the pile of cushions and my knight in hempen trousers offered to bring me a glass of water. Of course, only after he made sure my hands weren’t burned by the flames. Hells, he wasn’t burnt to a crisp at all. No blisters. No singed hairs. Not even a sunburn.Did I mention, Journal, he wasn’t wearing a shirt? Ha. Inappropriate thoughts, aye? But here I was, a damsel in distress, tuckered out on a pile of pillows, and a flame-walking Lala named Dawnstar rescued not only my estate, but myself, Cob ‘n Lin from a most untimely demise. Grinly and Nibbles made their way back within the estate once got a sense calm had returned.The wall.Shite. One was charred black with the inner guts showing all soot and scarring. The other? A sheet of solid ice from floor to ceiling with dangling popsicles from the rafters. Mayhap that wouldn’t be a horrible thing as that’s where I do my daily sweatin’? Stirring boiling water around and around in a pot full of filthy clothes? Silver lining?He was so busy fussing with me, I don’t know that he realized the extent of the damage. Although, he did offer to help me clean up the mess. He wiped the tear-stained soot off my face with a lick of his thumb. Smoothed down my frazzled hair. And promised to talk to Weavy to learn the correct command word.It took about a bell…mayhap two…but we swept and hauled out the bulk of the ash and char. I was so exhausted, I didn’t even walk him out or say hello to Virtue. Once he left, I threw on my jammies, surveyed the carnage once more, and here I am: writing.PS - the word is “Brushy.” Badge let me know maybe a quarter bell ago via my ‘pearl. Brushy is far different than Shanto. He also let me know that all of Weavy’s brooms are enchanted with some sort of Defend It’s Master mechanism - apparently that’s the magic word….for that. For now: BRUSHYPSS - I’ve - I’ve seen Badge fully in the buff. Let us never speak of this again. To anyone!_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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A Meeting with Moon

Dear Journal,Today is the day of the Crimson’s special event. But first: I’m off to discuss a proposition with Mr. Moon - we had spoken earlier via ‘pearl and it turns out he’s quite the accomplished swimmer. And godsdamnit, Lady Sepame must needs learn to swim! And mayhap Ser Beofoix…But, he wasn’t at his apartment. Blast. I’d wait in the lobby, reading whatever tome they had handy. It was so dull…something about the fauna of the Steppe…boooorrrriiingggg.

In walked Tacitus Moon: wearing an open shirt, his bare chest the first thing I saw. Gods, the man has no tact…Turns out he’d been enjoying the summer heat. He invited me to his apartment and I cast a horrified glance at manager behind the counter. They didn’t bat an eye - likely used to his immodest antics. Mistress followed, of course. When do Weavy and Broc return? Shite, I need to water her plants! Anyroad, Moon did invite me in and offer me a spot on the couch.Rather than sit beside me, though, he grabbed a chair from a nearby room and placed it mere ilms from my own feet. Such a closer talker. No personal space. Kiladus at least would have left quite the gap. I don’t know if he prefers to speak in hushed tones or mayhap is hard of hearing? Whatever. To each his own.

He looked exhausted. Drained. Completely devoid of energy - so I was grateful he agreed to speak with me in person. I scanned the room behind him and realized…this was Dayfield’s apartment. Redone quite a lot…and Moon said he had to: that the old style reminded him too much of his brother.There. It was spoken. Dayfield: in the past tense. I let him know he didn’t need to express the story again; that Lady Sepame had told me. But I did inquire if that’s why he looked so worn. Nay…of course not. He “did a big job” the night before - lots of fighting. I don’t know why he feels the need to do such things. There’s honest ways to make gil. Or, like myself, always gambling.Conversation quickly progressed in the right direction: toward Lady Sepame, my proposed job for Moon, and (thank the gods): food. He handed me a sandwich (better than Badge’s gods awful culinary creation). We had three of possibly four students signed up for swimming lessons (I had previously asked Arliana to spread the word amongst the residents and staff o’Honors Rest)...so Moon agreed that 10,000 gil per head would be sufficient. Shite. A bit pricier than I expected but then again - 10,000 gil for skills that could one day save my friends’ lives? Priceless. What’s 40,000 gil when I have 2,200,000-ish?He found it an odd request of me: to hire him, a trained killer, to teach folks to swim. Why must he feel the need to mention his - pursuits - at every turn of the conversation? Aye. I know he kills people. I was there. I watched…I nearly died! Hells, he nearly died. Anyroad, I know not if he meant killin’ folks for protection or killin’ folks for - other reasons. But I wasn’t about to ask.I told him I was being selfish. Now that I knew his brother was dead: I wanted to keep an eye on him. Make sure he was okay, too. And, it was Lady Sepame. I know she blushed like a hot flame when we mentioned his name. I - I didn’t tell him that, Journal. Besides: friends help friends; right? If I could help keep a sandwich on his plate, then so be it. Anyroad, I offered if he was too tired (gods, he looked exhausted), I could try to find another instructor and take my gil elsewhere. That did the trick. He simply cannot say no to gil.Do I know him or do I know him, eh, Journal? That settled it! House Sepame Swimming Lessons by none other than the Cad himself!He made some comment about teaching Lady Sepame a lot about herself as of late…and swimming would just be an addition to her lessons. Whatever. For all I knew, they were still investigating whatever job she had hired Dayfield for. Ah…that blasted broom was all over his bedroom…books…bed…corners…then back out to the den area…shite. He asked if I was going to charge him for the cleaning. Ha! Nay.Looking at the lacy smallclothes jammed within Mistress’s bristles reminded me I had a bone to pick with Moon. The state of my own smallclothes. But I’d let him fess up before I blurted out I knew he had taken them.He tried to thwart my passive aggressive comment of smallclothes and offered to teach me whatever lessons he was teaching Arliana…even if such lessons were to cause me any greater harm that we’d already endured together. My hand flew to my eyepatch. Light was still far too bright to lift it. Mayhap he didn’t know what lay beneath it? Shite. I need to remember to use Alvere’s eyedrops…Would he be putting The M’Lady in danger? NAY!

Focus…What was I writing about? Ah. My missing smallclothes. And that bare chest of his. By the gods, Journal. He had no shame. I mean - he was going to be teaching swimming lessons so that meant I’d likely see him in far less than he was wearing now. I blush to even think of it.Hells. I don’t know. But Tacitus procured a flask of something, took a swig, and handed it on over. I did need to wash down that sandwich. It was delicious, but dry. He had the gall to suggest that I - if I didn’t spit out my inquiry - nay my accusations - that I would soon fall to be his afternoon entertainment. Cad!I grabbed his flask, took a swig, hissed at whatever excuse for alcohol that was, and simply blurted out that I knew he’d been in my estate and stolen my - my - my smallclothes. He laughed so loud, Journal. So loud. And didn’t bat a lash. Didn’t turn one shade o’crimson. Just pointed to the bed where they lay unceremoniously in a heap on the corner. OUT IN THE OPEN FOR EVERYONE TO SEE!I nearly dropped the flask. Rather, I took another swig as he confessed to having hidden out in my estate while I was off on duties. “Hiding out…” from a potential buyer of Somnus (he was into some very illegal shite, it seems) - but ‘twas a sting operation and a bounty hunter in disguise! And he chose my house to hide. Mine. How’d he get in? Why didn’t Grinly raise the alarm? But I knew it was him. That reek of oil and - what was that? Him. That smell o’him.He seemed agitated, no longer sitting but pacing back and forth as he spouted on about that bounty hunter and his escape. A caged criminal...Which reminded me. The parrot from Alex! I had left it in the lobby in that wee tiny cage! I took the flask with me, took several swigs of it’s piss-poor flavor, and gathered my composure.He had to open the door for me as I knocked with my feet; hands full of cage and booze. That pink lanky bird squealed right in my face and if the slats of the cage hadn’t been so tight, I fear it would’ve pecked out my one good eye!Thankfully he took the heavy thing…and left the flask in my hand. I reminded him that Mr. Shimizu had found the bird in the cave and it may further lead him toward either the treasure of the names o’the kingpins behind the gambling dens that murdered my uncle. He opened the cage and out flew the scrawniest thing I’d ever seen. It didn’t say a word. I handed the nearly-empty flask toward Moon, but he insisted I have another.So, I did. It began to taste a little better. But gods, did I lose feeling in my toes. But liquid courage is good for something. As he was distracted with the bird, I marched right into his room and grabbed my smallclothes. When did he get behind me? He grabbed ‘em right back. Cad. Dangled them above my head as if they were some ripe fruit. I think mayhap he took pity on my pathetic attempts to grab them as he slowly lowered them an ilm at a time ‘til I snatched ‘em and held onto ‘em tight. I had no pockets with my attire today!Hiss.That broom. All over the bed. Mussing up the covers. Dancing around Moon’s arse. Gods damn the thing!Anyroad, onward with the tale. I unstrung my coin purse and plopped 40,000 gil onto Mr. Moon’s bed. Pre-payment for swimming lessons, just so he couldn’t back out! Did you know, Journal, he had the gall to say my smallclothes had brought him luck? What does that mean? Did he wander into gambling halls with them in his pocket? Mayhap string them up like a necklace? Shite. The man needs to know boundaries.

I drank the last of the flask and tossed it upon his bed. To add insult to injury, Tacitus said they smell’d of a fine soap and wanted to know the brand I used. Somethin’ about a Viera’s heightened sense of sniffing. I told him he should allow me to launder his clothes and he’d find out. Mayhap I could tidy up his shitehole apartment while I was at it.He said he had been readin’ some of his notes and it mentioned my ol’ yellow maid outfit. His notes. Gods, how the lines blurred between the livin’ and the dead. Hells, all the lines blurred…what was in that drink? It was good to have Detective Dayfield back, so I leaned into him, smashed up against his shoulder and told him so. Said I’d wear my new finery to come clean his apartment. All silks and lace. Before I knew what was happening, the Detective Cad had a finger beneath my chin, tilted my head upward, and I tasted his lips upon mine.By the gods, Journal. I was piss drunk and thought the cad was his own brother, back from the dead. Idiot. Although, they do did look nearly identical…I mayhap pined a little for Dayfield - the now-dead Dayfield - and allowed myself to get to such a state of … impropriety with is still-flesh-and-blood brother. But, gods. It was nice. To make matters worse? I reached up and pulled him in closer by the wee hairs around the base of his ears. He tasted of sandwich. And alcohol. And whatever that blasted oil was that permeated from his every pore. I lost all the feelings in my legs…the stuff tomes are written of. The roguish cad…stealing kisses.I pulled away, though, blushing at my actions. And my reciprocation. What of Zototo? Gods. I’m the cad now! I’ll begin to send letters out in earnest toward every corner of Eorzea. Pray one would be delivered and I could find his whereabouts. Gods, what if he’s dead?NAY! I can only mourn one person at a time.I cleared my throat, as he did the same…and I insisted that that simply could not happen again. Especially if we were to foster a business relationship. He smirked. Of all things: smirked. I don’t know if the heat in my ears was embarrassment or anger, but I quickly jumped off the bed and offered to tidy up the place. In honor of Dayfield. Free o’charge…at least the first one.I begged that if he were to need to “come on by” to Goblet in the future that he at least try to reach me by ‘pearl first. Give a lady some warning. And I could mayhap brew up some tea.

As he escorted me to the door (gods, my legs just weren’t workin’ right), I almost forgot to mention the gravesite. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tips of his boots as I asked if he would bring Arliana and I to where he buried Kiladus. So we could pay our proper respects. He hissed. But said he could…at some point…I took my leave. And, Farfnir’s Farts, Journal - I swear to you I cannot find the smallclothes I retrieved from the thief. Mayhap I dropped them along the way home? Gods. Can you imagine? Some wanderer finding my smallclothes in a gutter. Horrors._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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The Shimizu Estate: Week 22

Dearest Journal,Alex had asked that I meet him at the Crimson rather that Ume’s estate; Ume had only recently gotten home and fallen asleep. Besides, he was working on some things he’d wanted to run by me at the casino.

When I arrived, I found him downstairs, fidgeting with something at the table. He was futzing around with an orchestrion roll, trying to gently (or not so gently) slide it within the mechanisms of the machine. I daresay his tongue perched out of the corner of his mouth a tad while he focused so intently. He found his mark, pushed the player back within it’s cubby, and closed a small hatch.

He pointed out there were nearly invisible buttons built into the hatch; all he had to do was tap one with his toe while standing and it advanced rolls. I silently cursed Mistress as she brushed against Alex’s elbows. Swiving broom!! Anyroad, he smashed a button with his hand and a new roll spun up. Some wildly exciting music! It was to be the new tune upon special events at the Crimson. Gloriously exciting!And then? Journal…ugh…he hit the next button. The room filled with the sound of falling rain. Gently. Beautiful. Wet. And all I could do was mourn the fact that I had drank far too much tea that morning and had to excuse myself. I ran upstairs in search of the facilities - but nay - we had not included any! In all the time we took to decorate and design the Crimson; we had neglected the basic room all venues open to the public should have!

I did the only thing I could do. I swallowed my dignity and … relieved my wee bladder in my very own mop bucket. There a door for privacy. Handles to keep me aloft. And even a small cloth to - well - that’s a little delicate topic; aye?Poor Alex. His face when I came back downstairs. He knew - he had to have known what occurred. I announced I would be emptying that bucket before I left…It turns out he opted for that soft sound o’rain roll for evenings where he may be too exhausted to return home. Just to lull him off to sleep. Mayhap he’d sleep on the leather couches near the stage? Seemed the only proper place to catch some shuteye. Although, I did offer he was welcome to sleep at my place if a proper bed were ever needed. Gods know Uncle Fofoduti’s bed is large enough to sleep a dozen folks at once without any ever bumping into one another. Who knows if he’ll ever take me up on the offer. If he does, he’ll give me warning so I can make sure pillows are fluffed and sheets are freshly laundered. And if things are too awkward, I can always sleep in that large chair nearby; or the cushions upstairs. But seriously: that bed is so big, I'd never know he were in it.

Topics shifted to more suitable conversation: gil! You know how he’d recently invested in jet black dye? I don’t know if he would receive a commission of some sort, but offered to help me invest my own gil to increase it’s value. I glanced at the open coffers behind him - mayhap one day my 2,000,000 gil could become 20,000,000 eh? I told him I’d think on it and let him know.Mistress continued to swirl around my ankles and sweep the top of the Crimson’s tables. So, naturally, we discussed Weavy’s atrocious gifts. I advised Alex the broom’s name was “Mistress,” in light of the fact that she donned those vivid smallclothes - although he had a hard time making out the nearly completely shredded silken attire within the bristles.As it turns out, he’s no stranger to such enchanted brooms…and most have a command word to either stop, or go, or both. His broom response to “Hit me” to spring to life and “Good game” to settle back into an idle, rested state. I wonder if he got his from Weavy?I must needs talk to her. Alex observed that if the broom had been following me around for a sun or two it may very well run out of aether prior to my needed conversation with it’s maker. Mayhap that’s true. In the meantime, though, it continued to dance and swirl…The next sun would be the private event with the Crimson Casino and House Sepame. I offered to help in any way I could, and Alex asked if I could tend bar. I knew not a damned thing about tending bar, but how hard could it be to pour beverage into vessel? But, he wanted to pay me. The nerve. 10,000 gil? Bah. I don’t want it. He of all people knows I just came into a fortune. Nay. None. The fun of being amongst friends and possibly getting them all inebriated while at the Crimson? That’s payment ‘nough!

It wouldn’t be a day with Alex if we didn’t toss around some cards, eh? So, we played about five hands. There were three draws, he won one, and I won one. I swear the man’s skill at cards is baffling. Even on extremely random cards he can make a sohm al tart outta mud and still turn around and kick my knickers. I do value our games together. I cannot wait for his upcoming Triple Triad tournament!!With talk of the Crimson’s special event for House Sepame, he asked that I pick up some hors d'oeuvres for our guests…and he slid over a pouch of gil. Aye. There’s work to be done!You know me, Journal: I headed to the best only chef I knew: Badge! I hailed Bumpkin on his ‘pearl and let him know we’d be in need of sandwiches, a salad, and desserts. He invited me over to the diner to discuss the specifics.There were empty liquor bottles everywhere and he seemed to be nursing a headache. Or mayhap that was the bruising. I gave him the list of foods I was thinking, the number of folks we expected, and he said it’d cost at least 100,000 gil for the ingredients and his skill set…But…he “fancied me” is the term he used and was reluctant at all to take any of my gil. Well, it wasn’t my gil - it was Alex’s gil. And I only had 50,000. Then he seemed offended that I offered to ask Alex for more gil. Mayhap his disposition was ragged from all the booze?I tried to pick up a bottle, but he immediately danced in to gently take it out of my hand. I allowed him to take it…only so I could be freed up to grab another. How many had he had? Was there mayhap a party at the Sundown?Nay. ‘twas just him. Working through some aches, he said. Ah. The bruises. His chest and hands. I remember…anyroad, I offered to bring our business elsewhere so he could recuperate - and I do believe I mayhap offended him once more. The look on his face was one of pain and…rejection? Nay. He insisted he was up to the task. I’d at least pick up some Cubus from the Amaurot Hosterly.I handed him the second bottle and our fingers brushed. Gods, it was like a small fire ignited in my hand. Either he was warm or just…had a spark…or mayhap it was static from my silken apron and his silken shirt? …he fancied me...Anyroad, catering had been secured. And I had a full day ahead…so I left Chef Dawnstar to his bottles and his menu planning.SHITE - I forgot to empty the piss bucket!!!!!_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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Sweep 'N Suds Open for Business

Dear Journal,I have decided to open the doors to my business to the public once per sennight, rather than to seek regular contracted clientele. Well, not rather - but in addition to. So, I placed an ad in the Herald that the doors of Sweep ‘n Suds would be open for walk-in launder services…for one bell…and waited to see who would walk through the doors.My first (and mind you: only) customer of the morning: Badge Dawnstar…not only was he there to pick up his monk’s robes from yesterday, but…he walked in wearing the SNS gear I had bestowed upon him! All of it was bright yellow finery, of varying hues - all living up to his name: the dawn. Or the sun? Or mayhap just a cob of millioncorn?Anyroad, delicious enough to eat. Gods. I need to stop thinking writing like this.Not only had he shown up in proud Sweep ‘n Suds embroidered attire, but he came carrying gifts: FOOD! Sneaky man made popoto pancakes, complete with a homemade syrup and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.Two servings, mind you…so I ran downstairs to run upstairs into my wee kitchenette, to run back upstairs all out of breath brandishing cutlery. I found him seated on the cushions in the corner. So: we were to balance our plates? Mayhap he would spill syrup and must needs remove that brilliant golden top of his?

Nay. Apparently, I miss hearing from Zototo…? Do you think he’s even still alive out there in the wilds? My letters go unanswered. And even a few undeliverable. Moogles have searched far and wide and seen neither hide nor hair of the Warrior. I do pray he is alright. Pray? I don’t do that. I hope. I do hope he is alright.Where was I? Pancakes. And Bumpkin. I don’t know if mayhap he had gone swimming, but he reeked of the Limsan salt air. It lingered on him, wafted from him, and filled my senses. As we ate, he commented that my new silken attire was rather slimming. I nearly choked on my pancakes…I haven’t been called slim in - well - EVER. See? The 200,000 gil was well worth the cost if it makes me suddenly appear…slimmer.I inquired as to his…distinct scent. He apparently had gone for a midnight dip in the ocean after not being able to sleep struggling over some imperfect recipe and must’ve dozed off? He awoke bobbing upon the sea. Not only was he still bruised to all shite, but he looked completely wiped out. He said that water zaps him of his strength aether. Well, I encouraged him to eat more popoto pancakes…Mistress batted around his ankles and nearly tipped his plate. I scolded that swiving broom, chased it around the main floor, and finally gave up, opting instead to set aside my cleaned plate and plead to Badge for help.He said it was most certainly one of Weavy’s enchanted brooms. It turns out she makes them and hands them out as gifts. Gifts? These dreadful things?! As the broom smacked once more into Badge’s hip, he smiled at me…and announced the brooms mirror their bonded owner’s intent and desires. Whose? Weavy’s thoughts?Nay…Mine.Shite. That accursed thing was dancing around him like a bee ‘round a tulip…It - it knows!! What does that mean of last night’s drinking with Arliana? How it swathed at her ankles, sucked up lacey red smallclothes, and ran about the room on display? Mayhap he is mistaken…

Anyroad, having finished my delicious pancakes - it was nice to see him actually eat like he wanted it - rather than wait to see if I enjoyed the morsels within my mouth - distracted again. Where was I? Oi! After finishing the pancakes, I brought out his laundered robe. It was stained to all shite. No matter what powders or solvents or soaps I used, I couldn’t get the blood out.And, Journal, the mending job looked as if it has been sewn by a toddler. I must needs practice my darning skills. That hole - it was so large. And so burnt. He didn’t seem to mind, though? He took it with a gracious smile and disappeared downstairs to the changing room. And when he arrived back up top?I daresay it looked well-fit on him. I mean - bloodied and monstrously-large stitches sat near his heart. Why did I choose that color thread? He posed a moment, flexing his muscles and squirming beneath the robes. I saw the stitch work struggle beneath his heaving chest…

Before I could stop him, the show-off flipped into the air and the mending I had done split right down the middle. And took the rest of the robe with it. The fabric lay in two halves at his feet and he stood there like a peeled cloud banana: all bruised and half-dressed.Holy popotoes! I was suddenly reminded of Lady Sepame shoving smallclothes into her couch cushions to avoid the risk of a scandal. Could you imagine if a new customer had suddenly burst through Sweep ‘n Suds doors at that very instant to see me staring that the bared chest of Badge Dawnstar?

NAY! I ran quickly to the counter and procured him another shirt…thankfully he hurried into it. And that’s where things…got interesting.

I insisted I refund his 25 gil as well - I had made things worse. He refused…but rather insisted I join him at the diner for another dinner. I told him we already had dinner on the table, so to speak - as I still owed him a load of dishwashing. The hagglin’ continued as he still refused the refunded coin. Farfnir's Farts!! I hate haggling. Rather, he would keep my horrendous mending skills just betwixt us (like that confounded broom…! It...kept...bumping Bumpkin) if I agreed to join him for dinner…But we - we already had a dinner to make up for. Whatever. It just means there’s two dinners lined up at the Sundown Diner…He gathered his yellow shirt from downstairs and I walked him out to the yard. There was Virtue, hovering nearby...Badge jumped onto the cloud and knelt down, reaching into the obscured fluffiness and procured (like magic) another covered tray.He announced it was the recipe that had kept him awake the eve before. He finally perfected it this morning before heading over: beef and popoto stroganoff with handmade noodles!! He insisted that I reheat it slowly when the time came to devour eat it. Aye. I would.

I’m actually eating it right now ((there’s a smudge of brown sauce on this page)). It’s - I don’t know how it’s possible - but it’s even better than everything he’s already fed me. Well, anything would be better than that disgusting sandwich. But the pasta? The sundae? And even today’s pancakes? Shite. This is…incredible.As he and his cloud flew off over the chasm, he shouted he’d see me anon for our dinner date. “Date…” there’s that word again. It makes me smile to even write it, Journal.And, pray, just where in all the lands is Zototo? I should make inquiry. But with whom? I bet Dayfield would have found him. Mayhap Moon could?Speaking of Moon, Journal - the cad! I could smell him in my estate. I don’t know when he was here or what he was doing - but his scent was all over Sweep ‘n Suds when I returned from Honor’s Rest last night. And I noticed a few of my smallclothes were missing. Typical Moon, I’d say. I would be having some strong words with him. And anon._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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From Stained Aprons to Silken Ones

Journal!As previously determined, I went shopping…and purchased myself the most glorious apron and new uniform. Silken hues of sky blue and iridescent purples. Oh how it shimmers when I twist and turn and sweep! I’ve also got new shoes to match. And a striking pair of black bloomers to accentuate the white laced hem.I…I never want to take it off! By the gods, it’s luxurious! It was ridiculously expensive, but worth it. Besides, I don’t see that I’ll be buying anything like this for quite a long while again.And…I’ve found a hiding place for all my gil! 2,500,000 2,299,033 coins fit snugly within the new tank trimmings for Cob ‘n Lin. What better place to stuff a bunch of gil than within plain site? A literal sunken fortune!I just fish out a coin or two or 20 as I need it. I think it’s quite brilliant!_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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Drinks with Arliana Sepame

Dearest Journal,By the gods, I feel as if it’d been moons since I’d laid eyes on Lady Sepame. Today was that day. I set done my best at Badge Dawnstar’s attire (we shall see on the morrow when he picks it up…) and made my way to Honor’s Rest.As I wasn’t feeling fully up to my duties - and had, in fact, been excused from such by Lady Sepame ‘til I heal up - I had shown up in my comfy clothes. Alfred opened the door and shut it almost instantly. Was it my dress? Nay, the blind ol’coot didn’t see me. I had to shove my foot in the door and shout.Thank the gods he heard me. All I needed was a crushed foot; aye? Nay, he stopped in time and apologized. Poor fella. I daresay he looked ashamed. I smiled, let him know it happened more oft’ than not (not really…) and he escorted me inside. There she was: Lady Arliana perched upon the couch. All in black.Shite. The swiving broom followed me everywhere. Had I not mentioned it? NAY! I haven’t! Anyroad - I’ll get back to Arliana in a paragraph or two. Allow me, first, to describe further happenings of my day…before heading to Honor’s Rest, I stopped at Weavy’s apartment...you know: to water her plants. By the gods, it’s a veritable jungle in there. Anyroad, as I was watering, I bumped into a stack o’sticks that nearly crushed me. And one gently nudged me up off my feet. It was a tiny broom - no larger than I. Well, that was nice.Nay. Was is the key word. The damnable thing has followed me around ever since. Everywhere I go. I cannot make it cease. I fear if I lock it within my estate, it will break out a window and hunt me down. So, I gave up. I cannot pester Weavy on her honeymoon to ask about it. And it is nice having the help. May the gods help me, Journal, it…won’t…stop. It has chased Nibbles and Grinly around the estate. And now?Now it has entered Honor’s Rest.Okay. Where was I? Arliana: a gown as black as night. She greeted me with a wee kiss on the cheek and a horror story of her own with these damned brooms - it made a mess and terrorized the chocoboes in the stables out front. I couldn’t imagine it. She made comment of my less-than-professional attire. She was lucky I didn’t show up in my pajamas. Ha! Anyroad, she asked if my pocket slime had devoured my uniform! NAY! Could you imagine? It did make me wonder if it had done something horrible to her carpet, though. Rather than ask, I shifted conversation back to her. Per her usual, she offered tea. I asked if we might enjoy something a bit stronger.Oh how it was wonderful to see her smile once more, even if dressed in the color of mourning. The three of us (damned broom!) made our way to a new room that’d recently been added on to the estate: a lounge area with a full bar! Akino was asleep in an overstuffed chair. And a miqo’te was at the bar with a slumbering Flora in his arms. He indicated with a finger to his lips that we should remain quiet…The Lady opted for bourbon, retrieving two glasses and a bottle. She whispered introduced me to the fella holding Flora: Squire Snow Belmont. Apparently he’s associated with Honor’s Rests infirmary.Lady Arliana and Snow (he insist I call him so) talked in hushed tones about the infirmary and some patients. I tried to give them the privacy such a delicate conversation required and tried to hush the broom and guide it away from Akino. Blasted thing.Arliana was quick about it, though, and soon guided me into her private chambers, crystal glasses and a full bottle in her hands. Delightful! We sat on the couch near the hearth and the broom - well - did what it does.

As she poured (and oh what a gloriously fine glass it was), she asked how I fared. I let her know the arm was doing a lot better since the culinarian did his healing magics, but the chirurgeon said it’d still be a sennight or two more ‘til it was tip top. And the eye was still sensitive to light, but would also be well. I must needs remember to use those eyedrops from Alvere…shite. I could see mentioning his name brought her pain.As we drank, I regaled her with the horrific tale of my spelunking with Tacitus Moon. Diving deep into the cave and the horrors we faced - but that it was worth it as I heard learned what truly happened of my uncle. And now had rescued his my dog; despite the arrow, the flames, and the fish-man-monster. Time heals all wounds; aye? She - she threatened to have him horsewhipped for such a misadventure. By the gods, nay. It wasn’t his fault. I had hired _him Kiladus to find answers. And that cave is where we were led…Oh, speaking of Mr. Moon, I had brought her pilfered smallclothes and quickly pulled them out of my pocket.Journal, I wish you could have seen her face. They…they were not her smallclothes. Apparently, Mr. Moon had paid Honor’s Rest a visit the sun prior and returned them himself. Mayhap he had a change o’heart? Or, as Arliana put it, I was a good influence on the man. Ha. But, Journal, how Arliana’s face reddened at the conversation as she said he arrived arrogant and unannounced yet once more. Cad. I wondered the content of their conversation, but dare not ask. But at least he had returned her pilfered silky unmentionables. Arliana was so - flushed…mayhap the heat of the hearth and the warmth of the bourbon? Or mayhap the cad himself: 90% muscle, 10% man; aye? Ha. Journal. He glistened in sweat and torchlight in that damned cave.But…whose smallclothes were these? I dropped them on the couch immediately. Lady Arliana hissed like a snake and kicked them off with tip of her shoe. And the broom promptly swept them up within its her bristles. Imagine it, Journal: a magicked broom that never ceases it’s wanderings…plucked up a pair o’lacy red smalllclothes…which worked their way up into the straw before they were naught more than shreds and strips of glaring red embarrassment wrapped within the broom bristles.Did you know Arliana and the Cad met in that lounge room - and Lady Arliana had to shove her returned smallclothes within the cushions of the furnishings? Could you imagine if another member of the House would have wandered in to see Arliana, Tacitus…and her smallclothes…the scandal!! I could just picture Flora finding them in a fit of curious sticky fingers. Ha. Anyroad - they’re still there. Abandoned. Smashed betwixt cushions- and very likely beneath Akino’s slumbering and unaware arse.

Arliana refilled our glasses. And conversation shifted toward her and the pending betrothals. They’re off! There is no arranged marriage to be had…yet. Although, she had met some knights as of late - I forgot their names…anyroad there’s also a squire named Marcus who, according to her, may have the most shapely arse she’s ever seen. I must needs meet this one…and judge for myself. Supposedly all the knights are easy on the eyes. I thought at first she was talking of Moon, but nay - and now I know it was a blush. It had to be a blush at the mention o’his name.Or mayhap the arse she described?More bourbon. And plenty of shooing off that broom and it’s ill-gotten smallclothes. But she now has a broom: "Mistress." Laden in lacey fire-red smallclothes coiled around her nethers? Aye. The broom shall forever henceforth be known as Mistress. And I’m not picking out those bits. They’re jammed in there. And besides - there’s no getting this damnable thing to stop sweeping.Oh gods! Arliana - I hadn’t told her yet!! I slyly asked if she would truly like me to repay her for that million-gil jacket I had destroyed with Zigo the Orange’s solvent. Nay, she reiterated it was purely a jest and was not needed. So I announced that I had the gil, should she need it. NAY! She insisted it was a jest…again…and would hear no more of it. But was curious of my recent fortune! I told her about Mr. Shimizu and I winning the Death Dice tournament!Shite. I must needs go shopping. Something nice for myself. Aye. The rest? We discussed possibly donating some to the U-ACT Initiative and mayhap to the Halonic church and their outreach to help those in the Brume. Can you believe she asked if I chose to stop working as I now had…means. Nay! Idle hands and all that nonsense. Could you imagine me retired? Nay. She and Honor’s Rest would be stuck with me.Her eyes drifted first to her bourbon glass as her fingers toyed with the smooth rim, absentminded or mayhap preoccupied, then glanced toward a strange crate in the corner. Apparently it was a gift from Marcus Tight Arse’s father. A limited thing - only seven of them around and she has one. His father deemed her worthy - whatever that means. Which is good ‘cause she burst suddenly into tears claiming she was cursed.

I smooshed in close between her obscenely puffy gown and the couch, nuzzled right up against her. She began to stroke the top of my head - much like that first night I met Liivi…I wonder if she knew it was a similar motion? And if it brought her any comfort? I recounted that the house had already begun to fill up with people whom needed and loved her. And now she was free to marry for love rather than be forced into submission. And mayhap Mr. Moon could help her with whatever it was she needed in Dayfield’s absence.Journal…I was not ready for the response. Nor am I ready to write it…She delivered ill news. If Moon is to be believed - and why wouldn’t he? - my dear friend, Detective Kiladus Dayfield, is dead. Found in the alleys of Ishgard. Alone. In the cold. Run through…She blathered on about something, but honestly, all I could see were her lips flappin’...and Dayfield, covered in an ilm of ice…propped up or layin in a small frozen puddle of his own blood. His kind eyes glossed over and staring. I snapped out of my stupor as I heard her blame herself. Nay.Even if Lady Sepame hadn’t sent Dayfield to Ishgard, who’s to say he wouldn’t have ended up there on some other errand? And, besides, mayhap there was a mistake. Alas, Moon told her he identified the body his brother with his own eyes. And he’d already buried him. How were we to say our goodbyes if there wasn’t a proper service?I was furious at Moon. Furious at Dayfield. Furious at whomever had murdered my friend. And furious at Arliana for blaming herself. Mayhap I was just mad at the world, Journal. Dayfield. Gone. When was the last we spoke?Ah. As he sat upon the floors of my estate, wearing that turquoise blue dalmatica and clogs I had given him. I wonder - I wonder if Moon still has them? Well, if Arliana could blame herself for his death; so could I. I introduced the two of them. Mayhap it were my fault the Viera was dead.Arliana’s voice snapped me once more out of my thoughts. Moon had offered to take her to his gravesite, but she wanted to let me know first - make sure that I knew. And, by the gods, we would go together to mourn him. Mourn - the black dress made greater sense now. I didn’t know she and Kiladus had grown so close. Did you know Moon didn't want us to mourn his brother? He can piss off! It's happening. And we shall visit and pay our respects.More bourbon. Now. But my glass - it had gone missing? Did Mistress sweep it away? Mayhap I set it down and lost it? Where was it? It mattered not as Arliana handed me her glass and drank straight from the bottle.“To Dayfield!”I'm not ashamed to say I cried. As did she. Tears. And alcohol. For a dearly departed friend.Shite. He’s really gone…

We very well may likely still hunt the brothels to retrace his steps prior to his death murder. I think he would have liked that: Zim and Arliana, in disguise, sniffing out clues. Moon has asked that Arliana help him track down the ruffians who butchered his brother. Mayhap she will? I asked that she keep a full regimen of folks around her if she does. Can’t have a repeat of the fish-man-monster incident…She wasn’t sure Moon would agree - so I insisted she take Grinly. I don’t know if she will. Mayhap?There was a tender moment and words. Forehead to forehead with m’lady. One needs close friends in life. To smile and to mourn with. And she is that to me.Mayhap it was the bourbon talking, but we did share a chuckle after all the horrid discussion of the Detective’s - nay; I shan’t write it again. Anyroad, we spoke of Snow. He seemed a bit…I don’t know what the word is - so we opted he’s the House Curmudgeon. I had thought that title best suited for Reed, but nay. Snow carried an air about him that was far more reed-in-the-mud. Did you know that Snow and Akino were an item? What of Graves? Mayhap her memory did not recover and she remembers him not? The heart and head are odd sometimes; aye?We spoke of her own alone-ness…but mentioned a secret paramour? Who? I did not dare ask. And oh, show she blushed as she mentioned the Cad’s name. And Marcus - with the fine arse. Did you know Reed prefers the company of men? Which is wonderful - but immediately strikes him from the list of available love interests for Arliana. She insists I get to know him better…that he’s far less reedlike than he seems.Lady Sepame, once her lips have been softened by libation, is naught short of a comedian. The phrases and terms and opinions she passes. And gods, let’s not discuss the ever-so-undignified gigglesnort. I love it. And her. And those within her employ. She’s done a fine job.Anyroad, that blasted broom kept shoving it self betwixt us, atop Lady Sepame’s couch, upon the floor, twirling on the table, and causing all sorts of mayhem. It broke the mood. We both had a glorious laugh and opted to capture the broom and burn it…and those wayward smallclothes with it.Holy popotoes! Arliana nearly leapt to attention, smacking her hands together and we ran. That damned thing was too quick - too nimble - or we were mayhap just…too drunk First we simply chased it. Then Arliana insisted we corner it like some yak - but that didn’t work. Then she tried to leap upon it, springing from the couch! And landed flat on her arse. She … she got up and tried again. Leapt over the back of the couch and landed flat on her stomach. I daresay we were done.

We gave up…laughing in a heap upon the floor. Once more, I flopped upon the cushion of her petticoats as she stroked my blonde bangs. I mayhap would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for that damned broom swishing about.Sometimes the body can only cry so much before it needs to laugh; aye? And with a good friend.We lay there a moment staring at the ceiling together pondering the oddness of life and the people that come and go. I know she was hurting. I could hear the strain in her voice. We spoke of Alvere. How she missed him and was the - what’d she say? “Best First Knight” she ever had. Again, she made sure I knew I could freely speak of him in her presence. His name was not scratched from the walls of her memories. And I could speak of him as my friend. No need to hide his name within my lips. Ser Theo has moved to Limsa to run a store with his mother. But, as Ser FineArse’s father told Arliana earlier, “Have courage.”We ended the evening speaking of courage. And breathing daily. And just wading through the muck o’life. She will be fine. I will be fine. Alvere shall be fine.My employer friend made one last grab at that blasted broom as I took my leave. Of course, it bobbed and weaved. Weaved?! Mayhap I should talk to Weavy…but she’s on her honeymoon. Blast! Arliana begged I be careful with the damned thing as it seemed to take quite the attraction to me. Aye._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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The Return of the Coat

Dearest Journal,My beloved dusty rose faux spriggan-fur coat was discovered at House of Virtue and returned to me by none other than Badge Dawnstar himself. Chef extraordinaire, Savior of beloved jackets…and holy popotoes, the bearer o’bruises!After a pleasant knock at the door, I let our guest in as Grinly growled. There was Badge Dawnstar, looking worse for ware. Bruised all about his face. I had noticed he seemed to be walkin a might slower at the wedding…but hadn’t noticed - the face. He said he was fine - nonsense! I gently touched his temple, the bruise swollen and hot to the touch. And I demanded he follow me downstairs.Like a good little Grinly Badgey, he did so. I sat him down in the dressing room and retrieved the jar of salve Inquisitor Travanchet had provided me. Although it was meant to ease the pain and tightness of my scars (once these blasted scratches heal over), I figured it could do naught but good for swollen bruises upon a face.He complimented the decor as he made his way and sat on the wee pumpkin chair. By the gods…a Bumpkin on a Pumpkin. He’s lucky I hadn’t thought of that rhyme when he was here! It made me realize he’d never been to Sweep ‘n Suds. Well, I’d give him the grand tour later…first: one must needs apply ever-so-gently the salve to said bruises; aye?

He allowed me to dab a little on his face and apply it with the slightest of pressure. Blasted bruising was so close to his eye. I was grateful he closed it, lest any salve ooze into those beautiful golden orbs. Like the sun. The dawn eyes. Anyroad the deed was done. And I worry - his face was quite warm to the touch. Mayhap a bit of fever? He’d hear none of it; insisting he was fine.I put the cream back on my dresser and inquired what brought him to my wee business at such an hour. Alex’s words flooded back, "Don’t let others sweet-talk you out of your gil…” I couldn’t imagine Badgey were here to take my gil - hells - he was dressed in that ruffled silk shirt anyroad. Nay…and he rides Virtue. There was another reason. In fact, he had no idea the outcome of the Death Dice tournament! I was overjoyed and elated (and mayhap a bit too loud?) and caught him up on all the events.

I offered him a drink to celebrate. Tea. The man opted for plain ol’ boring tea. So, I poured two cups and we chatted about Weavy, the wedding, the newlyweds’ grand loss to Alex and I. And how I dread the safety o’the groom. Badge laughed and said the danger mayhap not lie in threat of death - rather - last night was their wedding night. He suggested what occurs during such an eve. I’m not daft. Of course I know what occurs on that blessed evening. But, regardless, I nearly spat out my tea and quickly asked what brought him to my business.He had carried a bag with him since entering Sweep ‘n Suds and took that opportunity to open it. And pull out my coat! He found it while he worked at House of Virtue the eve before the wedding. It had wedged itself betwixt the planter, wall, and bench. No wonder I didn’t find it! If he’s so good at finding my coat, I wonder if he (or anyone) found the…glass…I had left behind. I will never ask.Anyroad, I was ecstatic, and gave him a righteous hug - mayhap too tight for his wounds, which obviously by the way he tensed up were beyond the bruising on his face. As I ran to hang up my coat, he stated there was more in that bag. But I had only lost my coat. What else could it be?“Suds and budsy work” as he put it. By the gods, that’s adorable. Mayhap I should change the name o’my business? Well, if there was work to discuss, one must needs take notes and draft up a contract - so I insisted we carry our tea cups upstairs. Carefully, mind you.

Proper business at my proper desk. I wondered if he noticed the brightlillies he had sent me in the vase. How could one miss them? But mayhap he didn’t know they were the ones he sent me? They could be from anyone. I could have purchased them myself. Or mayhap a delivery from Zototo? Nay…they were his. I said nothing...Rather: onward to business.He had some clothing that needed to be laundered and mended…as his hands were rather - well, Journal - whatever they were, it couldn’t be good. Remember the nighty they shook at the diner? Now they were wrapped in bandages. We agreed that I’d finish the task and he could pick them up on the morrow. Or I could have it delivered. Nay, he’d pick them up.Then - then I made the inquiry as to the obvious: what exactly did happen to him?He and Vollder had gone out on some hair brained scheme to tussle with a behemoth. Vollder was flung off a cliff and Badge, too, went for a small flight - although by the looks of him, I think he tucked and rolled upon the ground rather than through the air. I wondered how Voll fared…Dawnstar corrected me: it wasn’t a hair brained scheme - it was duty. There was a village to rescue from the beast! It was slain eventually. And they both did make it home; although he didn’t quite make it home - Badge slept at the diner that eve - was this the same eve of our shared meal? He was going to meet Vollder that eve?I’m grateful he they are both alive! I offered to reapply more salve on that bruised face if he needed more over the next few suns.

Onward to business. We shifted to the counter and he laid out a torn and bloodstained monk’s robe, badly torn and singed right where Bumpkin’s heart is would have been situated while wearing it. By the gods, what a fight it must’ve been. He’s lucky to be standing on my stool. I gently folded the delicate fabric, set it aside, and offered my services for free - in lieu of the dinner he provided the other eve.Farfnir’s farts! My cash drawer flew open on it’s own. Possessed! Hungry for gil! Or just in need of a bit of maintenance? Anyroad, Mr. Dawnstar insisted on paying the 25 gil charge and reminded me payment for dinner was already agreed-upon: I wash the dishes the next we had a date. Aye. He used the word date. Well, it can be used in a friendly way; aye? Not always in the romantic sense?Date I wonder if he knew he used that word? Balls.The moment he slipped the 25 gil on the counter, he’d become an official Sweep ‘n Suds customer. And you know that means? Gods - I have so many of these things and nary any customers - so: I slipped him over a nicely folded SNS shirt, trousers, and clogs. Hopefully they’d fit…oddly enough, the set was all matchin’ yellow hues. Like those eyes. That hair. That name. Shite. Brain. Stop! Think of Zototo!He called me “Lovely Zim” again. Distractions - we needed a distraction.I remembered Truth, Dare, or Drinks that Arliana had taught the lot o’us. But, since he had only opted for tea, we dropped the Drinks portion of the game. We sat outside on my newly-installed wooden veranda and I took out the dice. Always carry a pair in your pocket. always

Badge eyed the house across the way and commented that Weavy would eat it whole. Pregnant or not pregnant; I didn’t ask. But agreed that I, too, have been tempted to see if the frostin’ on the fence was real. Thus far, I’d resisted. Anyroad, on to the game! It was like a match at the House o’Virtue. A few large drops…then a parry of twos…and thank the gods: he rolled the 1.Truth. He chose truth. How boring.I asked his favorite place to visit…to just get away from things for a bit. He mentioned some cave hidden behind a waterfall. Nay. A cave. The horrors of that misadventure with Mr. Moon - the bats - the shells - the fire - the villains - the fish-man-monster…But Badge said not all caves are bad. Nor filled with bats. Anyroad, I think he said it was in the Dravinian Hinterlands. Wasn’t that were Alex woke up? Or was that the forelands? Shite. I don’t remember…We rolled again. Oh, the dance! The drops, the slow dips, the parries. Them Dawnstars sure to know how to toss the dice. I mayhap even made mention that ‘twas a dance. And by the gods, Journal, Bumpkin actually muttered he’d like to take me dancing sometime.There was no containing the blush.Zototo…where was he?Back to the dice - they knew - they knew I was flustered and landed upon the one staring us each in the face. Aye. My turn: Truth or Dare?Of course I opted for truth. How boring.Thankfully, all he wanted to know was my favored food. Shite. There are so many. How does one narrow it down to just one? There’s skewered fish, Cubus (of course), pancakes, sohm al tarts…but suddenly the choice was clear.What do I oft’ hand out to friends and strangers? To the Emet-Selcheseses? POPOTOES! Anything with a popoto within it is my favored meal. Aye. Chef Dawnstar mayhap make something special with popotoes!He had to take his leave to open the diner. And I must needs focus on that poor excuse for attire on the counter within. I would seen him on the morrow for it’s pick-up or delivery.He whistled, and Virtue descended from the heavens - it’s golden glory will never grow old to stare at. I was jealous I had nowhere to go but within...

And with quick goodbyes, they were gone. Inside I went to tend to Bumpkin’s horrific attire. I’m grateful he’s still alive and breathing. And do hope Vollder is okay. I should reach out. But first - to work!_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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Death Dice VII

Dear Journal.Fate. It has a funny way of coming around sometimes; aye? I first met Alex so many moons ago at the smallest casino I’ve ever seen…played a few rounds of Fate & Fortune…and now? We tag team at Death Dice tournaments as Crimson & Gold. And…by the gods - nay by FATE - my life is forever changed…The pot was 5,000,000 gil to the champions. That’s a lot of coin!

Apparently everyone was still lollygagging from Weavy’s wedding as Alex and I were the first to show up. It was odd…sitting in the auditorium with no one else around. Quiet. Peaceful. No screaming and cheering. But that didn’t last long - soon folks began to flood in.Tori was atop the stage taking in last-minute registrants and Weavy found herself facing Alex and I. I assumed it was to harass us for the pending games, but nay - it was to pass on appreciation for my offer to water her plants while they ‘mooned. So sweet. It also gave me an opportunity pass over my wedding present.

I had attempted to embroider and frame that quote from her father at night at the Crimson…but I don’t know if it was legible in the gold, purples, and green threads…“Don’t take each other for granted and enjoy the time you have together. ~Badge Dawnstar.” Anyroad, I didn’t really have the gil to buy them anything…I hope they like it.Peekers and Lana sat behind us - she in a blindfold. I wondered if she, too, was gifted like JoJo. I was soon to find out. Head’s up: the answer is nay

There wasn’t much time for chatting as Tori suddenly announced the first round of contestants: Crimson & Gold (that’s us!!!) versus Team WAH (Peekers…and…Lana). AUGH! We were first?! I’m always so nervous up on stage. And this round showed it…I fear Alex and I may have um…misrolled…the both of us. Shite! Invoked the screeching halt of Tori - boy - Don’t. Do. That. Again. Not only were we forced to re-roll our dice, but by the gods, I felt even more nervous!! The bout continued, though, and as Lana rolled with her “blind luck” and Peekers - well - looked lovely across the table - I felt myself sweating. Was it the heat o’the lamps? Or my nerves? Alex looked calm, cool, and collected. And finally (after about eight rounds of throwing dice around…well, seven if you don’t count our misroll), WE WON! The last few rolls were…butt-cheek-clenching close. So many twos…

I was exhausted. My legs were wobbly. And we made our way back to our seats cascaded by congratulations and cheers. Alex thankfully bought us each a Moondrop. My nerves needed it…But, we moved on to the next bracket!

Cathrine and a newcomer, Shio, were next as “Team Last Minute” was hailed to the stage- along with the crowd favorite: Chocolate Bush (Dak & Rougant). There was no mis-rolling this time, and Team Last Minute took the win in seven rolls.The newlyweds (“Team Cupcake”) and folks I’d never seen before “Team Runebatal” took to the stage for the third and final set of first-rounders. It was quite the dance, and may I say Runebatal not only took the win straight away from Weavy and Broc, but did so with - their own sort of flair. Movers and groovers and dancing and shitetalking. Nobody really should shitetalk Weavy…but mayhap they didn’t know that? Again, this round ended after seven rolls. And I was grateful we wouldn’t be facing off against Weavy! Alex, on the other hand, looked mildly disappointed.Seven rolls. I’m sensing a pattern!After a short intermission, Round Two officially began! Team Last Minute faced off against Runebatal. And the game was done in seven eight rolls. It was tense. Again, a dance: what started off with some large drops ended with a slow descent of numbers until the rolls of 7, 6, 5, 4, and…the figure no player wishes to see: 1. Cathrine and Shio were moving to the finals.Do you know what meant?Alex and I were in the finals, too. Just like that: Crimson & Gold was called to the stage once more. When we got to the table, Alex gave a quick wink my way and we activated the golden aetherthread in our attire (well, I don’t know really how he does it, but I just tug on a bit o’string poking out of the hem of mine), simultaneously transforming from the Drab to the Dramatic! Glorious! I was pumped! Excited. Ready. And? NERVOUS AS COULD BE!

Once more…I found myself across the table from Cathrine. How many times now have we been here before? It was my sixth Death Dice tournament. And I really should flip back to see how many times we’ve faced off against one another. Civil bows and “good lucks” were exchanged…and the rolls began.Shite. Team Last Minute won the deciding vote and chose to go second. I know that’s Alex’s favored position…but we would make the best of it. Mayhap the game would be lost in seven rolls? Nay!!! DOUBLE THAT! An utterly exhausting and exciting battle!About half-way through the endeavor, the crowd on their feet, the cheers nearly deafening - we began the back-and-forth rolls and parries and horror:We rolled 7. They rolled 5.
We rolled 5 (Parry!)...they parried with their own 5! NAY!
We rolled a 3. They parried with their own 3.
Gods….
We pulled off a double-parry with another 3!! But they countered with a two.
Shite…this could have been the end…but Alex saved us by rolling a two! Ha! Beat that.
They parried with their own two.
SHITE!
AND AGAIN both teams rolled a 2.
How is this possible? The power of the golden aetherthread? It must be…
Suddenly, both Alex and I rolled a 2. Team Last Minute would have no choice but both players to roll a two as well…or succumb to a systematic execution!!!
A one. Fates be praised, the dice bounced and a one landed upright.Do you know what that means, Journal?

WE WON! Alex and I won! Holy popotoes!!! 2,500,000 gil was suddenly mine. What? What was I gonna do with it? I had no time to think as Alex pulled a bottle of champagne from within the depths of his coat (deep pockets?) and showered the stage. I was in a bit of a fuzzy haze. Didn’t really hear anything anyone was saying. Just covered in booze, beaming from ear to ear, and shell-shocked, I guess.

Tori gave us our winnings. Did I mention? Two-and-a-half million gil.Before we all departed House of Virtue, Alex challenged Weavy to one last game of Death Dice. I think he said if she won he could have half…or was it all…of his winnings? I don’t remember. For those of us who stuck around to witness the event, it was over in mere moments. Weavy had rolled a 1. The drops had been drastic, cut-throat, and devastating. Nay, the newlyweds weren’t to win anything that eve. Well, I mean, they had each other. Love. They won love.

My employer, team-mate, and friend walked out with me…advising I find somewhere safe to store the funds. And to not let people sweet-talk me out of it. By the gods, Journal…little old me: a gillionaire. Nowhere near as rich as Alex…but millions?!It’s easy to see how Uncle Fofoduti got wrapped up in gambling. I mean, I’ve dabbled before, but never betting more than I could afford. Now? Shite. Now?The sky’s the limit!_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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A Pair o'Cupcakes

Dearest Journal,I once more found myself trudging through the horrors of the East Shroud; this time upon Farfnir as I had no date to accompany me to the bonding ceremony of Broc and Weavy…

I arrived half a bell early, but there was already such a crowd! Weavy was there, surrounded by so many familiar faces. It was like an eve at the House of Virtue, only outside…and no gambling. There was Oswood, and Plumeria, Graeskar lurked, Mara was there (not in her signature pink but still looking splendid). And there was that unmistakable laugh…DAVE! Peekers showed up. And Mr. Rho Shimizu’s suit of silver gleamed from afar. I expected to see him in gold. Or crimson.

We were quickly ushered within the temple, and there upon a bench sat a patron of the House that I’d seen many a time, but never spoken to. Turns out the Au ra that wears a blindfold is named JoJo - well, something far lengthier, but he goes by JoJo. Says he can see beyond the blindfold - reading aether and such. Reminded me of my reading with Emet-Selch! I wonder if JoJo, too, saw my aura and if it mirrored that of a sunset. There was no time to ask!

Very shortly after the temple’s doors shut, its inward chapel doors opened and we were tasked to find a seat. I chose the pew which housed Mr. Rho Alex and JoJo sat at the end of it as well. I should have sat closer, as it was hard to get a good look once the ceremony actually started.

But holy popotoes, Journal, what a ceremony!! A cascade of trumpets filled the air and a gilded carriage slowly descended from the ceiling, surrounded by fuzzy moogles and their glowing poms. What was this magic?!Once it was properly seated upon the carpet, out stepped Broc and Weavy - each beaming. And literally glowing in silken hues of gold and silver. The vows were vastly different from Alex and Ume’s wedding - but I suppose every wedding’s vows will be different; aye?

But, they still ascended into the air upon wings of light for that beloved kiss.

Aw, love. One couldn’t help but cheer! And, Journal, I must needs confess I’ve never seen Weavy look so - at peace. And her smile? Not terrifying one bit.It was beautiful.While we all gathered for the portraiture, an insane amount of moogles circled JoJo’s head, splashing him with oldrosebuds. Why? Was it a sign he would soon be wed? What if he was already? Mayhap they were attracted to his aether-eyes? Or mayhap he wasn’t even the intended target but they swarmed him as bees to a flowerbud.

Before long, we were all kicked out of the Sanctum o’the Twelve and ushered off to the Death Dice tournament. The newlyweds, of course, rode that same old chocobo that I had seen Alex and Ume ride off on. I wonder how many brides and grooms that poor beast has carried upon its back. Mayhap Dave knew? Mayhap he even counseled that chocobo - I’ve never seen it with a mate - yet it always carries love through the East Shroud.Journal - I cannot wait to tell you about Death Dice. But I’m tired…so later…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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A Moogle Delivery

Dear Journal,I received a letter via Moogle this morning. Mr. Dawnstar had thoroughly enjoyed our meal together...and asked when we'd have another.There was a pouch attached to the letter with express instructions to toss it up in the air. If it was glitter, I would strangle the man...I don't care how good a chef he is.So, outside where it was safe: I threw it up. It exploded in a burst of fabric and suds. BUBBLES So. Many. Bubbles!!With a name like Sweep 'n Suds, he must've know how much I love 'em! Although, Journal - many were...hearts. Odd.Mayhap 'twas a favor to be shared at Weavy and Broc's upcoming nuptials? I do recall seeing something similar at House of Virtue after Alex and Ume descended the stairs. Aye. That must be it...Anyroad, I enjoyed watching them bob upon the breeze of Goblet as they were carried across the skies and I daresay one burst upon my favorite ironwood.What a lovely way to start the day. Although, seeing the heart traverse the expanse of the chasm made me ache for Zototo's smile. I do hope he was doing well..._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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Girls' Night Out

Dear Journal,I received an invitation from Arliana to join her and a few others for a night of frivolity and libations at a venue in Empyreum. I was late and nobody was in the lobby when I showed up. I rang the bell; nothing. But, there was a note on the counter that advised I step upon the glowing thing in the floor nearby…I did so. Nothing. I stomped my feet. Nothing. Luckily, another patron walked in through the front door who was apparently a regular and they advised I must needs jump up and down on the basted thing. Suddenly, I found myself elsewhere. Music, lights, people! Everywhere!

I heard my name called from a corner booth and made my way to Arliana and crew. I was introduced to Madame Ruhi and a crass gigantic woman named Ais. Well, she had more to her name, but that’s all I remembered.. I loved her most…oh by the gods she was…hilarious. And ripped. Muscles bulged from her gown - I failed to inquire her profession. If I see her again, I’ll ask.

One of the wait staff even came over and showered us with that oh so delicious bubbly brew. Oi. We most certainly must needs do this more often. It was good to see Lady Sepame smile.Anyroad, there were a few of us gathered and someone - was it Arliana? - suggested we play a game: Truth, Dare, or Drink. Lovely. We rolled the dice ‘til some unlucky sod (the Madame!) rolled that formidable one. She chose dare (oh the glee!!!!!!!!) and Arliana dared her to walk right up to the barkeep and inquire the color of his smallclothes.By the gods, this was going to be a fun night.She vanished for quite the time. We were joined by Leona and a lithe Elezen named Master Bethoir; I think? He was quite the reed in the mud - all stuck up, prudish, nose up in the air and judging or somesort. It appeared he took no great pleasure in being on the couch with the lot of us. Ais most certainly gave him a tongue thrashing throughout the night. Gods, it was lovely. He seemed annoyed but mayhap duty-bound to stay within our midst as a chaperone.Although, he did partake in the games! Begrudgingly, it seems.

We rolled the dice for a bell or two, even. There was a - let’s see…a few Truths were spoken. A dance was had (poor Reed seemed so embarrassed), and Leona was in search of a fish bowl within which to drink out of. Stories flowed as freely as the libations.

As The M’lady (as Reed calls her) was dared to take to the dancefloor, I took my leave.Couldn’t figure out for the life o’me how to return to the main floor of the venue as there was longer a glowy thing within which to jump upon. Ms. Tengri showed me a proper switch to push and poof downward I went. Into the night…full of smiles, a new game to play amongst friends, and hoping we’d do this more oft.PS - Black. The smallclothes o’the barkeep were black…_{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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House of Virtue after Dinner

Dear Journal,My ink bottle has been refreshed. Now where did I leave off? Ah, yes, Mr. Dawnstar and Virtue deposited me safely before the House of Virtue. Off they flew into the night, so inward I went into my favored tavern, overly-stuffed with sandwich, pasta, glorious dessert, and far too much beverage.I headed straight away downstairs and was so pleased that Mayberry was back and playing music! By the gods, I feel like it’s been moons. We spoke for a few brief moments about her endeavors, being back as Miss Tori had the night off, and the upcoming Death Dice tournament. Oh no. I suddenly had to piss. I asked Mayberry where the restrooms were - she had no idea since Tori had been remodeling as of late. I ran upstairs in search of such private chambers, nearly bumping into Alex in my haste.Nay! From room to room I fled. The bathhouse? Mayhap - nay - I wouldn’t - couldn’t - shouldn’t piss in the waters. By the gods! The chocobo stables were too far…and nary private. So, I peeked my head into the room where Alex and I had gambled oh so long ago, the private VIP lounge. Nobody was in there…and…behind the bar was a small forgotten glass. Let it be said, Journal, that I filled it up to the brim. But what to do with it?

I left it…right there on the ground behind the bar…talk about a walk of shame back downstairs.Tell no one, Journal! _{((OOC: as Zim was in the VIP room, the orchestrion roll changed to Now I know the Truth. Shite!))}I blame all the Dawnstars at Badge’s diner. Shite. And, well, now I was thirsty and begged a water from Broc, who seemed to be tending bar. Thank the gods they’re free as I was getting low on funds...He also slid me a pretzel and I nearly hurled - my body was against me! Far too much food. Did I mention the size of that ice cream sundae I had barely half a bell earlier? Ugh. I slid it back across the bar, I’m sure looking green in the gills. I told him about that disgusting cheese that ruined the entirety of the sandwich.I spied Alex out of the corner of my eye take to the tables. Hopefully the Fates treated him well. Broc and I were interrupted by a quite unseemly-placed poke toward the back of my thighs. I turned and was greeted by the hat of Peekers. He and I talked about Death Dice for a bit and suddenly he removed his hat.His peachfuzz hair was already growing back. So quickly? When mine had done naught? I rubbed his head and asked my question: “How did it grow back so quickly.” I’ve yet to have that rub-it-for-answers trick succeed, as Lei told me it didn’t work that way. Shite. He said it doesn’t provide answers - just predictions. So of course I inquired if Crimson & Gold would win at Death Dice. The response?“Ask again later.”It’s a farce. His hair does nothing!!!The bride-to-be walked up and commented on Lei’s hair, too. Oh how it’d grown. Weavy suddenly leaned in and sniffed me. SNIFFED ME? I could hear her nostrils as they brought in air. No squeak; just an odd hiss next to me. She mumbled something about sauce…nearly growled that she knew that scent…that food. I froze. Pretended I heard nothing…nobody needs a Weavy sniffing on them. Luckily, I didn’t have to answer as she suddenly began to rub Peekers’ head and ask if Sunday would go well. Whether she meant the wedding or Death Dice, I do not know….but he finally answered: Magnificent.

He must be scared of her, too. Finally giving a straight answer that wasn’t “ask later” or “we shall see.” See? She is terrifying. I took her distraction with Lei as my cue and fled to Mara who sat alone upon the couch. I also had a view of Alex as he was the lone gambler at the table. Couldn’t tell if he was winning or losing, though. As we spoke, suddenly there was a jubilant cry from the dice table that Mr. Shimizu had rolled exceptionally well in Chase the Dealerand ripped his winnings. Knowing him, he bet heavy. Mara would not be betting this eve; aye, and neither would I…apparently we were both a bit low on gil. While I work my arse off for my gil, it turns out Ms. Mara has the means to earn gil, but lacks the gumption to actually get up and earn it. Not such a bad thing; aye? To be able to survive sennight to sennight with the bare essentials, not needing to lift a finger if the desire isn’t there? But it turns out she’s mastered quite a handful of disciplines and jobs. Mayhap a Jack Mara o’all Trades, eh? As long as she has what she needs; and aye, she’s fond o’smaller things in life. No need for extravagance if it can’t be easily afforded; aye?Did you know, Journal, that Mara’s ear-tips match her cherry pink attire? Perfectly? And ‘tis natural! She doesnt’ pay the aesthetician to dye her fuzz! But, she did admit that she shops around for clothing that matches her own natural hues. Brilliant! What a way to always look “put together well” as one might say!She inquired as to what I do. And I realized, Mara and I, although I see her often at the House have rarely just sat and talked. It was nice. I now know she’s master of many a skill. And she knows I’m a laundress and housekeep.

Suddenly, the House filled with a golden hue as Mr. Shimizu shifted into his signature attire: the Golden Gambler. I knew it to be his last bet of the evening. And likely it would be the maximum gil allowed. I waited, half-listening to Mara and half-eavesdropping the dealer across the room. It sounded as if he won (of course) while Mara and I discussed finding joy in the simple task of fishing. She even has a glowing pole, charged with - I don’t know? She procured it in Ishgard…mayhap I should go. The glow may help guide those unsuspecting delicious critters to my lure. Mind you, Journal, not Cob ‘n Lin - nay! But the larger fish: just ripe for eating…Apparently, Alex wasn’t done gambling. I could hear he and the dealer going roll for roll. I suggested that if Mara had no urge to work, mayhap retirement be an option. Alas, gil must needs be saved up before such grand an idea come to fruition. But ‘tis good to have goals. I? A glowing fishing pole. Mara? Retirement!I offered my laundering services if her attire got too…sweaty. And she offered that mayhap one days he’d have a reading and writing room I could come visit. Could you imagine it? A room dedicated to folks who simply wished to bust open a tome and…scribe away?! The sheer expanse of parchment, leather, sharpened quills, and endless ink? By the gods…the glory of it all! Turns out she’s an avid reader of adventures!Just as I was about to burrow further into the conversation of writing, it looked as though Alex was to take his leave. I excused myself from Mara and inquired if my employer had but a moment to speak in private. I know not if he wished to say goodbyes to any of the other House staff, but immediately followed me upstairs to the lobby. Alone. And quite.I reminded him of the question and answer session I had with Emet-Selch, and leaned forward, cupped my hands around his ear, and whispered all of the sage advice of the Viera other. He leaned in a smidge too much and my nose knocked the top of his ear. Ugh. Anyroad, I passed on all the knowledge I had been given, and he accepted it with a nod. Whether or not he’ll actually take any of those words and act upon them is his own decision.I also let him know of Badge Dawnstar’s healing magicks and flyin’ feathers! And how the chirurgeon let me know it appears my arm would heal two sennights sooner than expected! So it wouldn’t be long before I could return to my full duties; rather than just launderin’. He didn’t seemed as surprised as I had been and asked if they were phoenix feathers. How in the seven hells should I know? I’m not a birdwatcher. Anyroad, Journal, it was exciting. I got to pass on the wise words of a madman to my friend and boss…and watch him leave the House of Virtue for the eve. I’d be seeing him at Weavy’s wedding in a few suns and was hoping Ume and Sasha could join, too.I made my way back downstairs as there was quite the raucous over the news that Weavy would be birthing two bairns at once. As Oswood and Broc were engrossed in some conversation; likely about the wedding or the bairns, or mayhap that rat that scooted across the floor - I asked Mara if she could pass on my drink order so I could hurry to the baths and soak my arm. Aye, she’s a dear and obliged.By the gods, how the waters were perfectly maintained at that hot that makes your flesh tingle ‘til you’re used to it. As I let the heat soak into every aching muscle, suddenly there was a lapping of water, but I was alone…what the shite was going on? A moment later, suddenly, there was Weavy, standing in the same tub as I, arms folded across her chest and - staring at me. I’d say glaring, but the steam was a bit thick and I couldn’t see. I asked where she’d come from…and her answer? Mayhap she’d been there the whole time. Well, her father did say she was - wait…aye…there a few pages ago: A black mage.Who knew what spells she could weave. IS THAT WHY THEY CALL HER WEAVY?! Oh. My. Gods.Anyroad, Weavy. In the same tub as I. Staring Glaring. Shite. I asked if she brought me my Sweet Heart, but nay - she wasn’t working and simply followed me into the baths. Shite.

Luckily, Mara walked in carrying my beloved beverage. Saved by the Mara! But, nay - she excused herself very quickly as she heard her name called from the lobby. I repeat: shite.Weavy. And Zim. And the two buns cupcakes in the oven. I asked if the hot waters would be safe for her wee ones - could you imagine it, Journal? Unborn wee ones suddenly boiling within the belly of a black mage? Luckily, she accepted my advice and opted to soak her aching feet. Aching? I offered to rub ‘em as I was so near (my drink was on the deck). Thankfully she declined - why did I offer? NAY!And she, not so subtly, asked how the diner was doing. I was shocked she’d known - had Badge told her I was there? Mayhap via ‘pearl? Anyroad, I told her it needed some sprucin’ up in the corners, but it looked great. And the food? Well, aught but the sandwich. She said - Weavy said she could smell her father’s sauce on me. And the only place one would walk away with that scent wafting out of their pores is either the diner or the house…Thank the gods she didn’t ask if I’d been to his house. Could you imagine the rumors?!!!I didn’t smell any sauce on me. Nor in my breath. But, being his daughter she was probably far more accustomed to sniffin’ it than I was. Apparently…I looked nervous. Of course I was nervous. And sweating. It’s Weavy. And the hot baths are - well, hot.Shite. Well, I let the laundry out of the bag and fessed up that she scared the shite right out of me most times. Seeing her at Death Dice, the way she spoke to folks, the daggers she could glare. And now her magicks? Who wouldn’t be intimidated? But I let her know her pop spoke very highly of her and calmed some of my…prior concerns.“I’m just a girl, Zimmy.”I will never forget that. Her face. Her tone. It was genuine. Every ilm of it.

Trying to get to know her more (like Bumpkin advised), I asked what aught she could do besides appear out of thin air. She snapped her fingers and summoned a wee broom. It swept the floors, then jumped into the tubs, then back out on the floors. A magic broom became a magic mop! She calls it “Brushy Brushy” and she made it! Herself!!The only thing I can make myself is a - well - a pile o’shite.Impressive! Anyroad, conversation led on, dear Journal! Brushy Brushy will keep her apartment tidy while she and Broc are off on their honeymoon, but the damned thing has no arms and cannot water her plants.Journal? JOURNAL? I AM NOW WORKING FOR WEAVY! Well…pro bono. Part of her weddin’ gift…I, Zimzimki Zimki, am in charge of watering her plants while she’s away. How hard could it be? I water my own garden and popotoes and haven’t killed nothin’ yet. And tend to Alex and Ume’s grounds. There was that time with the worms - but that wasn’t my fault, nor was it just waterin’. Everything will be fine; right? She told me her address…the only thing I remember is sixty-nine, so I shall have to inquire. See? I should always bring you with me, Journal. And I could write it all down right then and there.And suddenly she was off screaming about cake. An odd bird. Well, mayhap I do watch birds afterall? I must needs remember to tell Alex. Ha. And there I sat, in the hot tubs of House of Virtue, once more alone (was I?) with my Sweet Heart and my thoughts. Well, I stayed as long as I could until my flesh turned into a prune…and my cup was empty.I got changed and contemplated heading home, but made my way back downstairs. Weavy was standing behind a dice table! I immediately marched up and took a seat. Just as we were about to roll our own personal Death Dice match, we were kicked out by some Lala claiming it was their table.Whatever.We moved to the next. And began the dance! Oh, the excitement! Oh, the wages of my employ with Alexander Shimizu…slipped right across the table and into Weavy’s pouch Despite me having used Alex’s signature move of opting to roll second. Bah. Well, she was to be wed in a few suns. And she and Broc did have a pair o’cupcakes on the way. So, it was going to a good cause. Aye?Aye.Weavy suddenly pointed out my jacket was no longer upon my shoulders. What? I must’ve left it in the changing room upstairs. Not that coat! Spriggan ears!! I ran upstairs but could not find it anywhere. Had someone stolen it? Gods, I hoped not. I left a message in the House of Virtue’s booklet, asking any staff who mayhap across it to let me know…SHITE! This news after losing a sennight’s wages to dice. Double shite.And with that? I took my leave and walked home. Cold and jacket-less.Pray, it turns up, Journal…
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Dinner at the Sundown Diner

Dearest Journal,Do you recall I learned at the opening of the Crimson Casino that Badge Dawnstar owns a restaurant diner? Well, he invited me over to feast before House of Virtue opened…and who am I to turn down food?But what to wear? It wasn’t a date. And there’d be other people there. I didn’t even know the state of the diner: was it formal? Casual? Themed? Anyroad, I opted for my favored chemise, a pair of trousers, and threw on my spriggan coat as I’d be heading toward the seaside community of Mist.

I took a deep breath once I stood at the doorway, thought twice about knocking - it’s a public venue! - and entered. There…there was nobody else within. But there was Badge Dawnstar, looking very professional in an amazing chef’s hat…and the coat? A pristine shade of white (not one visible stain, Journal. NOT ONE!), gilded embellishments, and flecked with ruffles and lace. I daresay it went down to nearly his ankles. Put my coat to shame.

Do you know what else, Journal? He greeted me as “the Lovely Zim...” and then stated I looked lovely. I don’t know if a gal could blush greater than I did. I politely thanked him for the compliments, made a retort back of his own finery, and asked if he truly owned the entirety of the establishment.Aye. He did.Badge bowed and asked that I sit, gesturing to the “best table in the house”. As he did so, I spied a pan strapped to his back. Pray, why would a chef have a pan strapped to his back? Dinner supposedly was already made. I asked him to turn around and show me again; it appeared to match my coat: spriggan ear embellishments. Well, faux-spriggan ear embellishments. Who would ever purchase a real spriggan coat? Or use ‘em as a mold for a pan’s shape. Enough about the spriggans - did you know - he - I don’t know what he did…but his pan - it began to glow! With the ferocity of the sun! Nay, the DAWN!Was it purely the power o’his name? Mayhap that’s why he strapped it to his back? A sort of - of - what’s the word? Extension of who he is: Dawnstar…

Mr. Dawnstar, at my behest, helped me out of my coat. Farfnir’s Farts, it was hot in here. I don’t know if it was the kitchen’s oven, the candlelight, the glowing pan, or just - mayhap it was just me - anyroad, I took my seat and he ever-so-carefully draped my jacket upon the back of the chair.I had to insist he join me. A gal cannot eat alone. He schooled me in the ways that typically a chef doesn’t dine with the guests: but tonight he’d make an exception and had made enough for two…Off he disappeared to the kitchen and after a short moment returned carrying two trays covered in silver domed lids.He set them down on the table with great ease, lifting them to reveal a massive bounty of food. Be still my heart: a sandwich, a pasta dish, a very tempting-looking beverage, a bottle of wine (already open), and a basket of breadsticks.

I realized I had gotten in over my head. Surely, this meal was going to cost a fortune. The sheer volume of food alone must be a day’s wages. When I asked, Mr. Dawnstar insisted the meal was a gift. Nay. That’s too much. I insisted on helping wash the dishes. He failed to acknowledge my inquiry and set down his back-pan, removed his hat, and pointed me to the sandwich first.By the gods, there was so much food…I grasped one half of the sandwich, sliced on the diagonal (SO FANCY!) and closed my eyes as I bit into it…one’s senses are far greater when eyes are closed, don’t you know?Shite.Arse.It….it was - horrific.Before I knew what I was doing, I was spitting it out onto the plate of pasta…unchewed. One ungraceful blob of bitesize sandwich…perched atop noodles and sauce. I inhaled and quickly looked toward Badge.

His face. Was that disgust? Horror? Agony? Defeat? Disappointment? Sadness?Was I to be kicked out of his establishment and banned forever?I broke the awkward silence by first voicing my absolute displeasure in what assaulted my tastebuds…then asked what it was. When he finally found his voice, he stated it was simply a melt. A melted what? Melted arse?I wish I could aptly describe his tone. Quiet like a mouse…then…a mouse that grew some courage - anyroad, he explained it contained bacon, cheese, and some greenery. And seemed appalled that I found it unappealing. Mayhap the cheese was bad…or it was one of them fancy stinky cheeses.He coughed, explained that he was nervous and mayhap had gone overboard. I don’t know what that meant. Why was he nervous? How does one go overboard making a sandwich? Anyroad, I could see how much my - unrefined palate - had upset him. I opted to eat the damned thing anyroad…so I took a sip of my beverage first, and slowly ate the rest of the sandwich as he watched.I refuse to even write down the line of flattery he used…no amount of a smooth tongue could win back that sandwich experience. But, I did learn he grew up somewhere in the East Shroud. Ugh, I hated my journey there for Alex and Ume’s wedding: too many gigantic hogs, bats, walking trees. Could you imagine growing up there? The trauma one must endure? NAY!Called himself a bumpkin, he did. Well, guess what. I may have fibbed some and told him I had begun to enjoy the sandwich. And to soften the blow? Called him Bumpkin. One cannot share so odd a word and not expect it to stick; aye?Of all the times I’ve seen Mr. Dawnstar, he’s always been dressed in some sort of finery. Even while working the door at the House, it’s been quality fabric and accessories. I never would have guessed he came from humble beginnings..especially in the Shroud.As we talked, he noticed I’d finished my drink…well, I had to wash down that arse-cheese with something tasty; aye? Turns out that cocktail is the house drink: The Dawnstar. Who names a drink after themselves? Badge does; apparently. Anyroad, he offered a refill…and I noticed he hadn’t touched his sandwich. Instead, he was twirling noodles around his fork.The cheat! He knew the cheese was..repulsive. Nay, he insisted he eats from back to front: starts with the entree and works his way to the appetizers. Well, Journal, if one is to start backwards, why didn’t he start with dessert?I joined him eating the pasta. Now THAT was incredible. Justified the whole sandwich debacle. I’ll most certainly return. Mayhap it was the sauce and not the noodles? Or mayhap the combination of both? Heaven. Pure heaven in my mouth. Badge insisted that whatever sauces I had left on the plate needed to be soaked up with his signature bread. We talked while we ate: he grew up in the Shroud, but has no idea where he was born. Turns out he, too, suffers from a loss of memory - just like Alex! Only remembers his life after he was 15 summers old. When I offered to tell him Emet-Selch’s advice, he sounded just like Alex: saying he was who he was today and had no need to know who he was before. He’d done some adventuring in his past and offered any assistance I may ever need; whether it be friend, sword, pan…or other things. Whatever that meant, I didn’t ask ‘cause. Although, I’ll have to remember he’s an adventurer in case there’s more caves to venture into…I buried myself back into the Dawnstar and drank.He offered me yet another refill. Thank the gods. I insisted he join me in a second…I don’t even know if his first was empty, but he obliged and refilled both of our glasses. We both took a good quaff and conversation moved toward family.Weavy was doing well, the set of buns in her oven were equally well, and wedding plans were going off without a hitch. Just a few suns away, even. And it hit me: GrandBumpkin. He was going to be a grand…bumpkin…which naturally led to the next question. I learned Badge was 42 summers old…makes him about 15 years my senior. But, I swear it Journal, he looks my age or so. He blamed it upon his food choice and health.Turns out I’m about the same age he was when he and his - someone - had Weavy. Now if that doesn’t drive home an age difference, I don’t know what does. But, nay, he doesn’t feel old. Plus, extended lifelines may be a thing; although I’ve not known a Lala to live longer than a Hyur. Just look at my folks.I got distracted watching the marinara soak up into the pores of my bread and missed his next statement. He had to repeat himself, which of course occurred after I had shoved the sauce-stained bread into my mouth. It was about staying fit. Aye; he most certainly appeared fit, even beneath the ruffles of his coat. My blasted mouth said so. Damned thing has a mind of its own sometimes.He flushed. I flushed. And noticing his plate was devoid of noodles, but laden with bits of sauce, I reached over and soaked it up with the remnants of my bread. I don’t know why I said it, but I fessed up that Weavy scares the popotoes right outta me. He, too, insisted like everyone else: it's an act; a persona; that the terrifying Weavy was summers ago and she’s since done a lot of growing. And not referring to the wee buns in her oven…He said that she was a…can I even write this? Is that allowed? A black mage that wouldn’t hesitate to hurt folks that hurt those who were close to her. He insisted she and I grow closer. Did you know, Journal, if Mr. Dawnstar is to be believed (and why wouldn’t he?), Weavy likes art, and reading (ooooh tomes!) AND gardening! It seems we had more in common that I thought. And mayhap she wasn’t so frightful after all.Ah, I think mayhap he was trying to get me intoxicated? He offered another Dawnstar…I hadn’t realized my cup had run dry. Of course I accepted. They were delicious. If you only had tastebuds, dearest Tome, I’d drench you in that nectar. Thankfully he joined me in his own Dawnstar. Gods, it’s so good.We clinked glasses to Eternal Youth and not growin’ old. He made some comment about my loveliness having decades ahead…if not a century. How does one not blush? I tried to hide it with my cup, but thankfully he trudged off to the kitchen in a whirl of white and ruffles.I snatched his uneaten half of sandwich to see if his was any better than mine, but nary had time to eat it before he placed a gargantuan sundae on the table.I’ve never seen a primal. But could imagine if Garuda were to order herself a dessert, it would be this one. It…I daresay it was as big as he and I. He called it the - what? The Sundown Sundae. The first he’s ever made.Did I mention it was massive? I immediately dropped the sandwich and brandished a spoon.

It was beautiful. Reminded me much of the neighbor’s house across the street from my uncle’s estate. Ice cream, thick heavy whipped cream, freshly sliced fruit, cookies, and all sorts of sugary confections. I insisted he take the first bite.By the gods, Journal, he beheaded the Moogle. Well, is it still a beheading if it’s only the top half? I opted for the berries wedged beneath the remaining head. Gods. Freezing and delicious. He must have one of those pricey iceboxes. I should get one for my house. It’s always overheated due to the constant flames o’the launder pot.Anyroad, where was I?Conversation of the delicious dessert led to an invitation to come back for another meal. Of course I’d be back. One mustn’t fault a man for poor choices in cheese…He insisted any future sandwiches would be better. Pray, I may be hesitant to try any sandwich he were to place on a plate…I had noticed the matching music boxes when I first walked in and inquired; aye, they were the wedding gift he had spoken of at the Crimson. Although no longer with her, it seemed he clung to the memories….mayhap ‘cause he felt he had naught else to cling to? Mayhap there’d be love in his future again. New memories. New music boxes? Or simply a new someone to embrace the old tinny tune with.I asked if I could help with the dishes. The passage of time was visible through the nearby windows…he denied my request, and he would not be joining me at House of Virtue as he and Vollder had business together. Mr. Dawnstar denied my offer to help with the dishes and rather asked my payment simply be another visit for another meal. Aye. I could do that…but only if he allowed me to do the dishes the next time.He, sweet Journal, acquiesced. So, I dove my finger into the quickly melting ice cream, licked it off, and asked if he meant for the deed to be done this eve or whenever I returned. Oh how the candlelight highlighted his freckles. Anyroad, the next. We agreed upon the next time I dined at the Sundown I would help with the dishes.As I had left Farfnir back in Goblet and traveled to Limsa and the Mists via aether, Mr. Dawnstar offered to drop me off at House of Virtue on his way to Vollder’s. How could I say no? Free, safe, escorted travel and no risk of aether-sickness? Perfection.Did you know he travels upon a cloud? Anyroad, I’ll get back to that. I noticed a disheveled chest of clothes, a futon, and some evidence of recent patronage about the place and offered my professional services - once my arm was healed, of course. He choked a bit…don’t you hate it when a beverage goes down the wrong tube? Rather than acknowledge my housekeeping skills, instead he stood and asked about my arm. I told him, quickly, about the arrow that Mr. Moon had pulled out and the chirurgeon’s estimation of five sennights healing. And that Mr. Shimizu and Inquisitor Travanchet have granted me a temporary leave of strenuous duties. I had yet to inquire with Lady Sepame.

He said had he paid greater attention to my pain the last we met, he would have offered to try his healing arts then and then. Rather, I asked if he could before I left - assuming it wasn’t too much a bother. Aye, just as he, too, began to chastise me for entering a dangerous cave, his hands began to glow red like embers…and feathers shot skyward upon an unseen breeze! FEATHERS! But the worst part? His hands - oh how they shook. I took his quivering hand in my own and gave it a squeeze, already the left arm feeling much better - not 100%, but much better. I clucked my tongue as such a healing magic mayhap took too much out of him? Such a tremor. I shan’t ask again. But I will go to the chirurgeon to get a new estimate on the estimated time needed ‘til I’m tip-top!The evening was slipping away, and I had my eyes set on the House and their baths. Mr. Dawnstar helped me back into my coat and he followed me outside. He was to summon his golden cloud to whisk me off to Ul’dah. I was so excited!

Well, that all changed…He said I could ride the cloud with him. But nay, I reached up my hand, he helped haul me up, and I immediately found myself right back down on the ground. I had fallen through the damned thing like water through a sieve.Then and only then he informed me that one must be “pure of heart” to ride his cloud. Well, that speaks volumes of he and his intentions, but me? Had I known, I could have warned him it wouldn’t have worked. The tomes I read? The lusty thoughts I have of Zototo? Of Moon? His brother, Dayfield? That laugh of Dave's that sends shivers down my spine? What of Peekers? Hells, even Alex? And the chef himself wasn’t hard on the eyes at all. Pure of heart. Pfffsssttt. And who is the cloud to judge me?

I was upset. It wasn’t Badge’s fault…but he could have warned me. I waved him off to his awaiting adventure with Vollder and insisted I’d find my own way back home. But, did you know, Journal - he had a plan. I could still ride up his cloud…even with my - impurities. He would just have to carry me. All the way from the Mists to Goblet. I - I had my doubts. Could he hold me up that long? I mean, his hands were trembling within the Sundown Diner just a few minutes earlier.And he’d have to hold me - all my weight - all those malms. If he were to…tire…I would plummet to my death. He insisted he would not. And if he were standing upon that puff of judgmental cloud, he couldn’t be lying; right?

I took him up on the offer. He hopped off for a brief moment, swooped me up into his arms (one beneath my knees, the other around my back and under my arms) and lifted me effortlessly from the ground. The cloud descended an ilm or two so he could more easily step aloft carrying my 35 ponze…and away we wentBy the gods, Journal, he was warm. Not that it’s a bad thing. Radiated heat like the drying stoves at Sweep ‘n Suds - which is a good thing ‘cause I mean, we were high in the sky upon a cloud barreling toward our doomestination. I thought it’d be cold. Nay. Warm and comforting.At first, I kept my eyes closed with my face tucked beneath the curve of his lengthy ear, my nose buried in his golden hair. He smelled of…well, my drying ovens at home: warm. Not just warm - but warm sunshine in a grassy meadow. Even up high in the skies, I felt oddly rooted to the ground with just the scent of him. When I did finally open my eyes, all I could see downward was the fluttering coat of my host, the glowing golden unnamed cloud, and the endless black of the sea beneath us. How high up were we? Not quite high enough to touch the stars and moon - oh how they shone brilliantly down upon us.

No words were spoken. If so, the winds would have whipped away any sound before we could make sense of them. So he, in silence, guided us safely over the seas below. I had no sense of where we were until the beautifully-lit citadel of Ul’dah passed beneath us like a small oil painting splashed with light. Mr. Dawnstair began the descent as we must’ve neared Goblet and shadows gained clarity into walls, streets,torches, and finally: the familiar gates of House of Virtue.

He stepped off the cloud and gently put me down upon my own two feet. The air was suddenly much colder without his body against mine. He had to maintain his touch upon my elbow for a moment longer as I regained my sense of legs. It was far more disorienting than travel by sea or aether. The warmth lingered upon my elbow, even after he removed his hand…We had a moment of synchronicity, Journal. At the same time, both of us spoke of sending a letter for when we may next meet at the diner. It was ridiculous. As he stepped once more upon the cloud, I insisted it need a name.Given where we were standing and the prerequisites to ride such a thing, I opted on “Virtue.” I do hope it sticks. Even if it doesn’t, I shall call it that regardless.Virtue ‘n Bumpkin. Quite the pair…I do not know yet when I shall return to the Sundown Diner, but mayhap soon. Shite, I’m out of ink…again…more later._{((OOC: all screenshots edited with Snapseed for Android))}

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Cake with the Inquisitor

Dear Journal,I have made my rounds in Ishgard and had the great opportunity to meet once more with Inquisitor Travanchet. It was to be our first meeting face-to-face since the incident and I dreaded his reaction to seeing my fresh wounds. He, of all people, may take it the hardest.I had procured the honey he requested, but also brought with me a bottle of fine whiskey - as per the instructions of Emet-Selch. Naught I could tell had gone amiss with my cleaning of his office prior this past sennight…and Ieagerly awaited my turn to be allowed entrance into the Tribunal to meet with Alvere.Finally, I was beckoned that he was ready for me. I knocked on his office door and prefaced its opening with a warning not to be alarmed by my appearance. The door opened, and there he was: brows furrowed and eyes scanning over my shortened hair (I do miss my stylish buns), the eyepatch, and they lingered upon the still-healing claw marks across my face. I hoped to relieve his concern by keeping him busy and asked for assistance with the honey, whiskey, and (of course) fresh flowers.My tactic did not work. The moment he took the parcels from my arms, he set them down on the desk, knelt down upon one knee - his usual stoic expression was one but of shock and concern - mayhap a flash of anger. Not at me, I hope. Anyroad, he gently cupped the bottom of my chin and tilted my face upward. And rather than write, the harsh rasp of his voice whispered upon my flesh, “What happened?”

Rather than recount every detail, because we only had a bell or so for our meeting, I gave him the condensed version. I made sure he was fully aware that the fish-man was dispatched, and that the chirurgeon said I’d heal in a few sennights; save for mayhap some scarring. I also let him know that during my convalescence, Mr. Shimizu has allowed me to forego my cleaning duties. And I asked if he would allow the same: either a full-pardon or limited duties.Again, Alvere’s brows furrowed and once more that oh-so-pained voice crept passed the scarring and into my ears. He bade that next time I should tell him before entering such a dangerous scenario. Aye. I would. Although, as I told Alexander - I didn’t anticipate there’d be a next time.That seemed to lessen his concern and he gestured toward the table - already plated with some sweet looking cake and tea. He picked up the parcels and disappeared into the back half of the room while I studied my soon-to-be meal. I have no idea what knob or book or button or cog he pushes to ply open that bookcase…but it’s quite a wondrous invention. Ah, but even better? My cake! Pineapple rings adorned the top of a sponged cake, and mayhap that was a cherry? I didn’t wait…and had finished half the piece before he even returned to the main office.He carried with him a small bag, which he produced a glass vial and a small, squat jar. His face was still…what’s the word? Scolding? Chastising? He was none too pleased. ‘Twas almost as if I had disappointed my father; gods rest his soul.

Thankfully, the man resorted to writing rather than tax that wee voice of his. He handed me instructions (gods, his penmanship is glorious) - The vial contained eye droplets to be used once per day to help with the blurred vision, light sensitivity, and to promote proper healing. The jar of cream was for my scars: once my wounds had sealed, I am to rub this cream on my face, twice a day: once after I wake up in the morning and once in the evening after I’ve supped and bathed. He presumes I bathe every day? Ha. Well, I must needs not inform him otherwise…He says the cream may ease the tightness and pain of the scars, but may not erase them from my face. ‘Tis okay. Scars serve as a reminder of things to naught do; aye?My turn! I gave him the instructions provided by Emet-Selch; showed him the various stretches and jaw exercises, as well as the daily shot of whiskey (with or without tea), every morning. Alas, he let me know he’d already tried similar stretches and exercises, and they did naught to ease his discomfort. But (as we well know, dear Journal) he does enjoy whiskey in tea and would pick up that daily regimen. He seemed more concerned with my present state than his long-ago-earned scars.Finally he sat and joined me. Well, at least he drank tea while I picked pineapples off of my cake and shoved them into a heap to enjoy last. The enjoyment didn’t last long, though. He tapped his quill on the table to regain my attention, and began scribbling furiously in his blank tome. Shite. He wrote with such fervor, his jaw clenched in…ugh…I assumed disappointment still. Aye; it was. When he finished his novella, he slid it over.