2669/Leve: Pretty Enough to Eat

Leve: Pretty Enough to Eat
Date of Scene:	23 July 2015
Location:	Chicago-667
Synopsis:	Inga and N'raha seek fish, the Truth and OUR WISDOM FLOWS SO--HEAR FEEL THINK
Cast of Characters:	Inga, N'raha Tia

---

N'raha Tia has posed:
    It is in fact a very busy day in Chicago. It's a Thursday, there's a storm in the forecast, and people are out and about trying to get things done before the rains swamp out the city streets and make outdoor activities much wetter.

    Which is why one Mr. N'raha is feeling like a small cat in a very big crowd. Much bigger than Ul'dah, even. Bigger than Limsa. This is a grand place, full of fancy stuff but not quite as much magic as back home. The aether feels funny here, more crowded.

    Mr. N'raha is currently standing outside a farmer's market not far from Saint Mary of the Angels. There's a hat over his head covering up his ears, and he's managed to find an Alexander Academy branded hoodie to keep himself looking less medieval than he could be. That said, that tail still swishes a bit behind himself, as he pokes his nose through the stalls. No... nooo... no... He's looking for something.

Inga has posed:
A certain time-displaced viking lady is also in the farmers market, giving not a care to the strange looks her outfit is getting her. It's fairly hot, but she's still in a long, old-fashioned style dress straight out of the dark-ages, linen and cotten rather than wool, belted at the waist by a tablet woven belt where a couple leather pouches and a knife hangs in a leather sheith. Her hair is tied back and intricately braided per usual.

Currently, she is examining some watermellons, lips pursed as she tries to decide if she could actually carry one of them home. She already has a shopping bag in one hand and a wooden staff in the other.

Inga looks up long enough to give the church a withering stare, then scans the crowd for a moment. Her eyes widen slightly as she spots a young man not far from her.

And his tail.

"Are you lost, traveller?" she asks, attempting to gain his attention.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    If the cat-man realized he was being spoken to at first, you wouldn't know it. Though, the young man finally catches a hint of... attention. That feeling that someone's looking at you. His ears filter back and he processes the last few seconds and...
    Yeah, maybe that was back at me. He turns from the nice old Hmong lady selling string beans and carrots to look at the lady carrying the staff and looking... like she'd fit right in back in the Shroud. "Ah? I... I don't think I am?" He's definately feline, something that hasn't gotten past at least some of the vendors, who've been shying away from him. The issue is likely those green cat's eyes of his, the slitted pupils widening a bit. "Yes, I don't think I'm lost, my phone's been telling me how to get back to the Gate, at least!" He pulls out a little candybar android burner prepaid phone. Cheapie.

    "Are you sure you're not lost? You look like you belong where I'm from."

Inga has posed:
Inga raises an eyebrow, taking in more of his features. Yup, definitely a catman. Not the first she's seen, though. Still odd, but a little bit more on the familiar side of odd, at least.

She looks to his phone, then nods slightly.

"Lost? In a sense, yes, but in the way that you mean...well, no. I know where I am. I live here, at least part of the time," she explains, looking down at herself and shrugging slightly. "I am comfortable in these clothes," she remarks, leaving it at that. Not going to justify her fashion choices at the moment.

"And where are you from then? Besides...Elsewhere," she asks, assuming of course that he's from somewhere out in the multiverse. He may even be from somewhere she's been. "I am Inga Freyasdottir, of the Union," she adds. Maybe if she introduces herself she can make him carry her watermellon.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Oh right, introductions. "Ah! I think I've heard your voice on the radio." He holds out his hand, and then realizes she's got none to shake and dutifully picks up the watermelon and tucks it under his arm so she has got a hand to shake.

    "N'raha of Thanalan. Eorzean Adventurer's Guild. Nice to meet you!" He shuffles a bit with the watermelon, and bites his lip.

    No one else is looking, right? He pulls his backpack off, and neatly drops the melon inside the top, where it... well it goes in, but to where is anyone's guess. "And I was just sayin' you look like a conjurer or someone from back home. What with the staff and dress like that and all."

Inga has posed:
Excellent, exactly as planned. Bwahahah...

Inga smiles, leaning her staff into the crook of her arm for a minute in order to shake his hand. "N'raha or Thanalan, it is a pleasure to meet you. Eorzea...that does sound familiar. Indeed, you look like someone I've met before. He was called Xau'ra," she replies. Hmmm...what did happen to Xau'ra? Worrisome.

Inga smiles a little at mention of her looks. "A conjurer. Mmm, indeed that is perhaps what I am. I am a wisewoman," she explains. "I am not originally from here...not...really. It is complicated," she adds, waving it off.

She looks to his bag, watching the watermellon disappear. She narrows her eyes slightly. "Why didn't I do that?" she says, more to herself than him. "I'm accustomed to trying not to unnerve people here with such oddities. Things like that are not common here," she explains.

"Now, what were you looking for?"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    TO be fair, at this point there's a wide berth being given to the pair of cosplayers just sorta hanging out in the market, though the nice Hmong lady start making motions at N'raha to move so people can get to her spot.

    The ears droop a bit under the hoody, and the miq shuffles over. "Xau'ra? So, not one of my clan then. I'm guessin' he was a darker skinned fellow, maybe a bit taller than me?" He holds a hand an inch over his head. He's already not much taller than Inga.

    "Oh!" He shuffles around in the pouch of the hoodie and comes out with a shopping list. "Carp. Big Carp. I wasn't sure if they've have it at a market or what but this is where I ended up and I was starting here before I went anywhere REALLY crowded."

Inga has posed:
Inga looks to the Hmong lady, takes a moment to buy some green beans, then motions for N'raha to step aside so they are no longer blocking traffic through the market. "Yes, that describes him well. Do you know him?" she asks, hopeful.

Refreshing, not to have to crane her neck to look someone in the eye!

Inga looks at the list, though its not much help to her. "A giant carp? I...don't know where you can find that. I could show you to the fish market though and you can make enquiries. Are you just looking for dinner or....?" Inga trails off, not sure where that or? is going. What else would he want a giant fish for?

N'raha Tia has posed:
    A sigh from N'raha. "Ah, sorry not as such. That sorta describes most of the males from the Keepers of the Moon. That's like, one half of Miqo'tes. I'm a Seeker of the Sun. We live in the desert and plains, they live in the Shroud." He puffs up a bit, and watches a few passing young ladies with interest, before coming back to the here and now.

    "Oh, and i need the fish cause I gotta make a big grilled carp for one of the merchants back home. I got an order for one." He pulls a fancy card from his pocket, with the official seal of the Adventurer's Guild on it, and a lenghty explanation, in Eorzean, of what must be 'bring me a grilled carp, you get cash and maybe a hat'.

Inga has posed:
Inga sighs quietly, nodding. Well, that mystery shall go unsolved then. "Yes, he was a Keeper of the Moon as you say. I was helping him with prophetic dreams he was having," she responds quietly. "I accompanied him to his world on a few occasions," she adds. Had some interesting visions and was the conduit through which /something/ spoke, too, but she'll leave that unsaid for now.

She glances at the card, then shrugs. "Ah ha. Well, I am unfamiliar with carp really...but I can show you to the fish market," she informs, then waves for him to follow her.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The words 'prophetic dreams' clearly get a reaction out of N'raha, as he bites his lip with a fang. "Yeah, well, I... I guess some people have those, don't they? Not too much to worry about, dreams are dreams!" He smile and quickly turns to follow Inga as she leads the way.

    "Oh yeah? You came to Eorzea? What did you think about the Shroud? Or, wherever you ended up? You didn't visit La Noscea, did you?"

Inga has posed:
Inga responds with her usual knack for adding unwanted gravitas to an otherwise casual conversation; "Dreams are dreams...except when they are not," she says in a quiet, haunted sort of voice.

She shakes her head then, leading them slowly by steadily down the sidwalk toward where the fish market can be found. "It was a place called Mor Dhona," she replies, hoping he will know precisely where that is, as she really has nothing else to offer to help him with the geography. Inga barely knows Chicago.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    N'raha blinks a bit and rubs his chin. "I mean, there's some really pretty scenery out there now if you can get past the giant massive corrupted crystals and the Castrum. The Crystal Tower is nice to look at." He follows along though, that tail swishing a little bit behind him as he looks up and down the streets, especially at the passing cars.

    "Ah, is it weird that this place feels... off? The Aether here is sorta pushed down and away from places like this. Feels slightly dull."

Inga has posed:
Inga nods. "I went to pursue some of the visions I had had, to ah...open myself up to things and gain some answers. I never did learn exactly what was troubling Xau'ra," she says, frowning gently.

Inga looks around for a moment. "The Aether? Do you mean the...magical energies? Chicago is not like where you are from. Most people here do not even believe in magic, which is why I do try to keep from...doing things that may be alarming," she explains. "There /is/ magic though. The uncanny exist still and influence the world in their ways. There are some people, mortals, who know this," she adds. Like Harry!

N'raha Tia has posed:
    "Oh, well. Yeah I guessed that. The place is still... Alive. I mean, it's a different sort of Aether than back home but it's here." N'raha's cheeks tinge, though. "But I'm not a wizard or conjurer or thumaturge or anything like that. I'm a warrior, by trade at least. Knives and swords and axes and stuff. Things to get stuck in with."

    There's not a lot of people looking, and the hoodie is stifling, and... hands lift up to flip the cloth down from his head, revealing a furry pair of ears and a head of hair that looking like any teenager who spends too much time outside might have.

    A little sigh of relief.

Inga has posed:
Inga nods. "I imagine it is strange. Even this level of magic is odd to me, subdued as it may seem to you. My home...magic had always been more subtle. Or at least what I knew about it at the time," she saying, sighing quietly.

"Ah, a warrior. That is good. I have known many many. Suppose I still do, though they are also not what I was accustomed to. No one seems to fight in the shield wall anymore," she says, shaking her head.

She blinks as she removes the hood of his sweatshirt, revealing fuzzy ears. Inga's inner cat lady goes SQUEEEE ITS A KITTY! and wants to pet his ears, but Inga merely clears her throat, smile appearing. "Bit warm for your clothing choice. Storm later though, you'll be glad for the hood then," she informs, still moving toward the fish market. Luckily, it isn't far or she'd call a taxi, which she generally dislikes.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    N'raha completely misses the 'squee kitty' look as he puffs up instead at 'shield wall'. "Oh, that's something I'm good at too, but I got told that I shouldn't, you know, be in my armor here in Chicago if I could help it, that the local constabulary frowns on big axes and swords in public." Cat ears and tail, apparently not weird enough to call the cops about.

    He even flexes an arm a bit. "I mean, I get by okay. I have to admit I cheat a bit, too. Or at least, to you guys I might cheat. Is using Aether cheating?"

Inga has posed:
Inga's eyebrows rise with interest. "Oh? Where I am from, you were not considered a proper warrior until you had fought in a shield wall," she replies, a hint of respect in her voice. She laughs then, nodding. "Yes, that is generally frowned upon here. I get away with my little knife," she says, patting the sheath gently.

An expression of curiosity flickers. "Cheat? You mean you use magic? Tch, I certainly wouldn't see that as cheating," she replies, considering the flexed arm with a quirked brow briefly.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    "Well, that's sort of one of the things they teach in the gladiator's guild. Get stuck in, and if you can, charge in under your shield and if you're with a bunch of other people use their shields too." N'raha's hands are waving in front of himself as he half pantomimes being in a shield wall. "But by myself that's... uh, that's less a wall and more 'get behind me please'."
    A look over to Inga as they come up on to the local 'fish market' which is a hollowed out ware house where a bunch of the locals hawk their fishy goodness in a chilled building. It would be very popular today if not for the fish smell. N'raha doesn't seem to mind at least. The catman's eyes widen a bit as he sees... quite the selection here. That tail swishes hopefully.

Inga has posed:
Inga grins at the demonstration, nodding. "Indeed. It is best if everyone has a shield and knows how to fight in the shield wall. Without others...well, a shield is still good to have," she says with a nod. He'd be a good person to be beside in a shield wall, protect your lower half while someone taller stabs over...

"Ah, here we are then," she says, moving inside. The fish smell doesn't bother her anyway. She's from the people who invented lutefisk. This is nothing. "I'm curious as to if you will find your carp. Perhaps I'll pick up some herring if they have any," she comments with a shrug.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The Miqo'te grins over at Inga, before he turns to look through the stalls. "I won't be long, miss!"

    But as he turns to flop his hood back up... There's a wash of sensation over Inga. It's... it's slightly different than Xau'ra. This isn't a dream. It isn't a prophecy, it's not a glimpse into the past. There's a sudden and deep sensation, deep in Inga's bones, in her Wyrd, in whatever sort of Fate sense she's got, that she's looking right through the young man into the heart of a world.
    The young adventurer is right there, but that's just a conduit so a briefand terrible glimpse to something deep and vast and alive, and aware. A great watching mother, maybe even akin to the great Gaia.

    Hear.
    Feel.
    Think.

    And then it's gone and he's haggling with a tall persian man over the price of junk carp.

Inga has posed:
Inga nods, then freezes, going stiff. Her pupils wildly dialate as something like a vision grips her, jarring her to the marrow of her bones. It is the unique sensation of your fate being strung, the pull of the norns on the tapestry. Most do not feel it. Most never will. Even for Inga, it is deeply unsettling.

That is what it is to be given the direct attention of a great goddess.

Hear...Feel...Think.

Inga shudders and takes a seat right where she is, as she's extremely likely to fall over if she does not. Her head spins.

The moment passes. Her vision begins to clear. That terrible sense of doom is gone, but her body and mind are still reeling from it. Shaking hands clutch her staff as she looks toward N'raha with wide eyes.

It is hard work being Chosen.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    It is hard work being a Chosen, even more so when people have been vague with you and you have no idea of what's going on. And when you're a bloody teenager and have no idea how to handle 'random ass visions of stuff'.

    Right now though, N'raha is only vaguely aware of the change in the air, until he gets a taste of what Inga just got, his hackles raising, that tail puffing out, and...

    A vision graces his own eyes and he turns to face Inga, dropping some cash on the table as he picks a frozen package of carp from the pile, rushing over.

    "Are you alright, Miss?" He holds out a free hand to the seer.

Inga has posed:
Inga reaches out and takes his hand, gripping a little tightly perhaps. The physical contact helps anchor her back in the here and now. She searches his eyes for a moment, lips drawn into a tight line. "You saw something too," she says, sure of it. He'll not be able to wave this off.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    N'raha chokes a bit, but doesn't let go of that hand. There's actually quite a tight grip. "No, I... I just... you..." He's steadying the Seer, but trying to avoid her gaze again. The insides of those puffy ears go pink before he swivels them back under the hood of the sweatshirt.

    "I saw you fall over and I just... wanted to..."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The touch though... That grip suddenly triggers something in them both, and it's a shared vision. A mirrored thought. A Twin Destiny

    Taste and See? Hear and Think? How close they come together. How sweet they come, how little they know.
    A light there once was, in both our worlds. A light that can be rekindled.
    We tried that we are trying we will try it is ever and always.
    This one is wise, a strong rock of knowledge for all to see.
    your agent certainly shines but is it a beacon or a blaze, this kitten in the rocks

    A flash of blue-thought overtakes Inga and she gets a glimpse of N'raha, or at least a younger version of the boy, watching in horror, hiding under a stone face, as a piece of Dalamud smashes into the sand seas of Thanalan, heaving up a great, molten crystal shard high into the air. Fire bakes the sands, cooks the springs, and buckles the earth as his family turns and runs and the fire is still there, still smouldering like a black little pit in N'raha's heart. Fear and horror and anger nestled deep.

    flawed like you like all, his sweetness is caked in soot and sawdust, muddled around in a soup that is youth. The Wolf Jumped Over The Moon and it bit him in the ass and then brought doom to that place. we have seen three here, that one has seen six.

    And yet we endure and thrive and so to should you, dear hearts.
    Hear Feel Think: the Prime Directive of the Crystal.
    Taste and See, and bring life again.

    And then N'raha is the one to fall on his ass, blinking wildly. "..ffggff what the blazes?"

Inga has posed:
Why does Inga touch people? It also seems to go this way. A catch in the loom, suddenly the threads stop with a jolt that shakes the soul. Then...the weaving runs impossibily fast, un-raveling, re-woven, two threads intertwining with rapid, violent intensity.

Inga gasps, her eyes rolling back in her had as they do when the Buzzing speaks. The Bees are loud....but there is another. There is...an Echo.

She mouths the words breathlessly, her muscles twitching. Someone in the background is calling 911.

Inga still grips N'raha by the hand, watching the vision of his past, experiencing his terror and his smouldering anger as if she were there. Tears run down her cheeks as she shivers, wracked by the intensity of the vision.

Yet it is a two way street, a double-edges sword. Threads nestled together in the weave of fate. N'raha is gripped by a vision of Inga, a scared child having her first vision of overwhelming pain and terror. A powerful main with a gold crown around his iron helm, yelling "Convert!" as his men drown a man in a river, his eyes glazing over as bubbles cease to escape. They baptise his body in the name of Jesus Christ while his family scream at this last indignity. The vision shifts. Inga, older, holds a knife in her hand, the iron slick with dark blood. A man hangs from his feet from a large tree, his blood pooling into a golden bowl. Her first sacrifice, a vile Christian who'd helped kill so many Saxons. The gods will be pleased. A crushing sense of purpose settles permanently into her bones. Shift. Inga stands over an old woman, her mentor. Her last words had been a prophecy. There's a strange buzzing sound....

The vision cuts out and they're joined hands break apart. Inga gasps, trying to pull herself together quickly. People are certainly noticing. "I'm fine, fine now, just fine," she says automatically, trying to shoo people away.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    N'raha's hands slacken and he just sits on his butt. People are gathered around now, and there's soemone pointing out his ears and her dagger and his tail and the miqo'te grumps. He knows the start of a mob when he seesone, and he huffs and puffs, bustling a bit and handing Inga her cane again.

    "I think I've had enough fish for today, Miss Inga." Those green eyes are still distant, but he knows what she saw. He saw, they both saw. A little sour taste in the back of the Miqo'te's throat as he tries to scoot faster.

Inga has posed:
Yes, things are not looking good. Time to move. Inga takes her staff and gets to her feet. More assurances that she's fine, then she follows N'raha until they get to somewhere where they can both sit down and be left at least relatively alone.

"Allow me to indulge in a modern day coloquialism. What. The. Fuck." she says quietly.

She's not even really sure what else to say.

She lets out a shakey sigh. "I'm sorry. I should...not go outside anymore," time to be a hermit in Dun Realtai for a while!

N'raha Tia has posed:
    A nice park bench out of the gathering rain outside. That's a good choice. The showers haven't yet cut into the heat of the city yet, the oppresive feeling of the summer bearing down on all.

    The Miqo'te's hands find the inside of that hoodie pouch, and he pulls out a piece of fish jerky, handing it over to Inga. "...sorry, I didn't mean to do that. That's one of the things I've been trying to... to find..."

    "...Help." That one is less of an explanation and more of a plea, as he fiddles with his own piece of fish.

Inga has posed:
Inga sighs heavily. She needs a cup of coffee. Or whiskey. Or coffee with whiskey in it. She settles on the bench, staff next her, one hand tracing the runes carved into the smooth oak. "That is...a thing that happens to me. Though, it is usually, ah, one-sided," she responds, glacing sidelong at N'raha. "Suppose it only fair that one of these times, someone gets to see my wyrd," she adds with a small shrug. "I always did feel...it was a bit unfair."

Inga takes a deep breath, reaching into her pouch. She digs around for a bit before she pulls out a flask. She's got the whiskey at least. She takes a sip then offers it to N'raha. "Seems you may have been lead. We have been lead. I will help you if I can. Have you always had visions?" she asks.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    A flask. N'raha... is not about to turn that down right now. He takes a sip and hands it back, ears wilting again. "I... ah. Not until the last few months. I got in a real bad scrape with a bunch of pirates, I beat them but it all sort of went sideways... and then I wake up in a stream, right as rain and now I see things... and hear things."

    He's still fidgeting with the fish, tail twitching slightly as he looks down. "I didn't really think much until one of the people I travel with said it was something he wanted to talk with his group about, that... this was something I shouldn't beworried about."

    "But then this happens."

Inga has posed:
Inga listens, drinking more whiskey when it is passed back, then passing it right on over to N'raha again. She tells herself she's used to this. He apparently is not. "Ah...a brush with death often can trigger someone's latent ability. It is more common in women...all women have some degree of the Sight. Very few are Seers like I am. Like my mentor was. It is a gift, but it....it often does not feel like one. Still, we are Chosen for a reason. You were Chosen, and we must find out why. I will try to help you with your visions...at least tell you my experieces. I....Odin's bones, that was...indescribably. I'm a Chosen of an entity called The Buzzing. They are messengers of the gods. Specifically, of a goddess they call Gaia. I believe you heard them," she says, then can't help but start to laugh. It's a stress laugh, the kind that comes bubbling up when you just don't know what else to do. "Gods, you heard them and I heard.../someone/...they were talking to each other! Through us! A bloody conversation between gods through two...whatever we are," she says in a strained giggle.

Another gulp of whiskey is needed. "Behold the hands of the norns, forever spinning our fates. Throwing us poor creatures together for an unknowable purpose."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    N'raha's eyes look down. Fingers finddle with the fish. "She... she calls herself Hydaelyn. That's the name of our world, so I can only assume I am either crazy or... or." Chosen. It's not a word that he wants to think about.
    Thoughts bubble up into his head. All the stuff he's been running into. The corruption of Eorzea. The Garleans. All of this brought about by... by chaos.

    The miq isn't very good at hiding his emotions. Those ears and that tail flick as his eyes swim a bit in thought and the whiskey.

    "This is good, right?" He looks up, hopeful.

Inga has posed:
Inga nods, closing her eyes for a moment. "Hydaelyn," she says, committing this to her memory. Gaia and Hydaelyn. Oh, how incomprehensibly vast the tapestry is.

"Not crazy. Unless I'm also crazy...which I might be, but the visions are not why. I've always seen the wyrd, but things have gotten more intese since the Buzzing took me," she explains, then decides she probably needs to explain a bit more than that. "The Buzzing, as I said, chose me. I...swallowed a bee. The next thing I knew I was hurled through a...a gate, I suppose. I was brought to the World Tree, to Yggdrasil. I wandered through another gate and arrived in the same world, much changed. The same world, but far from my home in both space...and time. I'm adjusting, but it has been difficult. The gods use their chosen hard. Still...it is not all bad," she says, smiling suddenly.

Inga looks to N'raha, filled with sympathy for him. They've already got crazy visions over with, its probably safe to put a hand on his shoulder. "Is what good?"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    That hand seems to deflate the young man as he listens. He's not... well, it's not a sadness, it's something like a weight that suddenly springs up in his heart. This wasn't what he was expecting. This wasn't what he went out to do. "This wasn't what i expected when I left home, this was just supposed to be... I dunno, be a way to make myself bigger than Father. Bigger than the tribe. I didn't... I."

    A run-away, perhaps? That vision might explain things.

    "I mean, this is a good thing? I hope it's a good thing. I'm still not sure what I'm actually doing any more."

Inga has posed:
Inga gives his shoulder a squeeze. It's a bit intimate when you've met not an hour ago, but after what they'd just experienced...doesn't seem too forward, really. Inga's used to that as well. Seems like there's no time for slow getting to know people. Too much doomsaying to do. To many worlds falling apart. "We rarely get what we expect. Sometimes, that is a blessing," she replies queitly.

"Good? I do not know if it is good. I know that it is necessary. That it /may/ be good. I know that wisdom will grow and that growth is often painful," Inga replies, offering the whiskey once more. She's not exatly the sugar-coating type. But she is empathetic. Especially as she has /literally/ felt his pain. "I've learned it is best to not fight the growth. That only makes the pain worse. There is more at stake than you and I....the gods can be harsh, but they are loving. They respect us, or they would not choose us."