285/Tears in Rainy Dorter

Tears in Rainy Dorter
Date of Scene:	25 July 2014
Location:	Ivalice
Synopsis:	Faruja encounters Ferham and she plays a little trick on him.
Cast of Characters:	152, 516

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Faruja (152) has posed:
~Ten Minutes Ago, Trade City Dorter, Slums~

Sometimes, when the greater troubles of the world seem to be too much, it's good to get back to basics. And so Faruja Senra, Inquisitor, Mage, and Knight, passed his duties off to his subordinates for a day or two to travel as a simple Priest. He found himself, clad in simple robes and with nothing more than a cane and meager supplies, at the Trade City of Dorter's poor section. Assisting the local Nuns with passing out food, prayer, and tending to what injuries he could through his magic, it's a refreshing experience. This, more than anything, is what he loves in his heart.

This particular night is dreary, cracked cobbled streets filled with a long and cold downpour. It reminds the rat of home, and he can't help but pine inwardly for his lost people even as he passes out the last bits of warm food to a mother and her child. Blessing both, he turns, heading back to the small Church in the poor section. The strange positioning of the city near both water and several tributaries leads to a rainy, bridge-laden area. Unlike many others, the rat walks without an umbrella.

~Now, Trade City Dorter, Bridge~

Faruja approaches the largest bridge in the city, almost directly splitting the more affluent section belonging to the merchants, and the poor section that dominates much of the city. Taking his time despite growing darkness and the rain, he can't help but smile. For once, he has no doubts that what he's done this day is the right thing. A single red eye peers out into the wet and dark of the fading sun over the river as he limp-walks towards the bridge.

Ferham (516) has posed:
     It doesn't appear as much has changed in the Dorter area in some time, and this night doesn't appear to be any different. This evening upon the railing of said bridge there appears to be a figure stooped in what looks like a black cloth, a poor person contemplating suicide or maybe just someone overlooking their dirty deeds after having dumped a body? Either way, the cloth confuses and hides the features, though it would appear whoever it is a hume of some description, not bangaa or burmecian or moogle, definitely, quite too large to be the latter. Like Faruja this person does not seem to afford themselves any protection from the rain but the black hood they wear, no umbrella in sight.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Blink. Black hooded figures are always ominous, a staple of cultists and other Heretics. Faruja twitches, then rubs his wet hair. He's getting paranoid in his job. The rat takes a few more steps forward, enjoying the rain as it falls upon fur and skin, and finally calls out.

"Hail to thee, mine Child! It seems the good Lord blesses the local farmlands, if not this city itself! Forgive mine intrusion, however, ye cut a lonely figure in the dark. Might this humble servant of Faram light thine way? Erm. Figuratively, of course."

Faruja's sure to let his Ajoran cross sit upon his chest. It's no protection from a vast majority of bandits and thieves, but it occasionally gives others pause. Step-limping his way over, he curiously tries to get a better glance at just whom he's come across.

Ferham (516) has posed:
     There was little light to discern the figure by, so it would come as a bit of a surprise when whoever it was suddenly stood straight up on the railing and carelessly turned to meet whoever was hailing them. Faruja would be able to see however what seemed to be a pretty feminine face through the hood, though only partly, and even more surprising was the fact at how she seemed to teeter and totter on the edge of the railing like she was just getting ready to simply lean back and let herself fall.

     "Hmm?" she looked down at the robed mouse man standing there, watching him limp and turning her head at an angle as if she was curious, having not seen one of his kind before perhaps, or maybe unsure of how he was wounded? Either way it did look like she was smiling lightly as she slowly let herself fall back...

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja's eye catches a feminine face. The Time Mage in him notes how she wobbles, analytical mind easily able to guess just which way the (presumed) woman is going to tilt. But his heart and body don't quite catch up. It's only as she speaks, and then fall back with the slightest of smiles does he shake off his reverie.

"NAY! M'LADY, NAY! 'TIS TOO MUCH IN LIFE! GOD ABOVE THERE IS!" Screams out the rat, terror gripping him as the woman vanishes from his sight. The teleport spell is reflexive, sending the graceful rat upon the bridge's slippery edge, hovering just a millimeter off of the wet surface. His red eye swiftly dips down, and he's already speaking the words to a spell, wildy casting it as he tries to spy the woman he's targeting!

"In the name of the Lord, ye shan't die this night! SLOW!" What will he see as he gazes downwards!?

Ferham (516) has posed:
     As the lady in black plummets back and over the edge, she quickly is lost from sight as the rat might be racing to the edge to try and see if she might still be clinging to life on the edge or the side... but there appears to be nothing but that black cloth, buffeted by the wind as it drifts down into the dark.

     Of course, the burmecian man might not be expecting the brief but unmistakable glow or flash of light, and suddenly there is a figure clad in what appears to be red armor... red wings, long gloves and boots, and a figure that might give the rat a flutter in his heart as she rises up and proceeds to seem to float, or hover there, a rather broad grin on her features as the slow spell seems to aid in her suspension over the blackness and the rain falling to the water below.

     "Ahahahaa..." the feminine voice is deep and clearly amused, like a lioness's.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Nothing. For a moment, the rat can hardly think, hardly react. He failed. He failed, and a pitiful, lost soul was dead, all because he had hesitated. The thought runs through him like an icey spear through the heart as he watches that black cloak flutter.

Light. The flash of light gets the rat's eye, and it's enough to complete the spell out of reflex.

The Burmecian's breath catches, and indeed his heart flutters as he spies the red-clad, winged figure that seems to float above the water with that broad grin. After the seemingly endless moment of dispair, it's nearly enough to make the rat faint. He finds himself pitching forward, and before he knows it, he's falling towards the water.

"FLOAT!" the quick spell will save him from an unfortunate pasting upon the rough waters this night. But will the amused lioness of red and metal catch him!?

Faruja's muzzle certainly works, however. "OH LORD IN HEAVEN, WHAT IN THE BLOODY ABYSS WAS THAT!? KNAVE! HEAAATHEN!!! DOTH YE MOCK A TRAVELLING PRIEST TO SO TOY WITH HIS HEART!? ONCE I GET MINE HANDS UPON THEEEEEEEE!!!"

Faruja's volume, too, surely hasn't lesene.d

Ferham (516) has posed:
     The look of mirth and amusement on the valkyrie's face soon is turnign to surprise however, those long lashes of hers batting as she notices the rat man is going right over the railings. Her figure dips and soon the rat might feel what /feel/ like gauntleted hands pressing into his soft and fuzzy sides as he is hauled up, the woman's wings spread wide as she more or less stands on thin air and cradles the Burmecian in her left arm. Was that her dominant hand? it might be!

     "Shhh, you'll wake everyone up," she leaned in close and whispered, almost cooed, those red lips of hers might have been enticing to Faruja if he were human, at least they definitely seemed painted with rouge. Soon she was carrying him up, and up--over the railing of the bridge and depositing him on the wooden floor of it, safely away from the rail.

     "You should be more careful, I don't think you can swim very well with that leg of yours," she /had/ noticed the limp, it would appear.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja finds himself in the arms of a winged, seemingly gauntleted woman who carries him neatly to safety. The Burmecian is quiet for some time, as he's cradled like that, heart hammerin in his chest and mind tryin to catch up. Apparent suicide-ee. Instead, it's a winged woman playing with him in the dark. One that then decides to save his life after recklessness.

In his oh-so-conflicted heart, he can't find it in him to be /angry/ with the woman. She did help him, after all, and the priest-rat just simply leans back against the cradling reploidess' embrace. For a few moments, he's hardly complaining.

An ear perks as he's coo'd towards, and the rat finally turns about. Gulp. Pretty as well? What a night. Faruja chuckles nervously before sighing.

"...Yes, yes, quiet, oh nezumi of the great lungs, lest ye wake the entire city."

Pause. Faruja finally seems to get his wits together, and feeling about, finds the bridge to lean upon. A hand is offered to the floating woman, as if to help her over the bridge like a proper gentlerat.

Deep breath, sigh. "That was /cruel/, M'Lady." Chides the rat for a moment. Nope, can't stay angry. Such a bold action is impressive, if it has the rat a touch irritated now that he's calming down.

"Father Faruja Senra. Ye art not native to Ivalice, hmm? To whom doth I owe the sudden reduction in mine lifespan?"

A pat of his bad leg.

"...So the White Mages keep telling me. Mayhaps I aught listen. Well met, oh winged angel of crimson."

Ferham (516) has posed:
     "Cruel? I suppose it was a little," Ferham doesn't offer an apology, however. She does however take his hand--gently, as that black polymer and metallic glove of hers seems like it's got claws tipping each digit, and is quite strong. Using the bit of leverage from his arm she pulls herself up over and seats herself against the railing, her long wide wings folding behind her for the moment, as do those long curvaceous legs of hers, crossing in front of him daintily.

     "I'm not from here no," she frowned a little, as if that should be obvious, however her smile quickly returned, as she realized he was calming. "Oh, being frightened doesn't harm your natural life span, that's just a fallacy," she whook her head, waggling an extended index finger. She doesn't immediately answer him when he asks for her name, though she shrugged a little, clicking pauldrons. "Angel, hmm? I kind of like that, actually, if you want something to call me," she giggled.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja rolls his eye a touch, the Burmecian finally glancing over to take in the woman as a whole. Something about her seems strangely familiar, though he's sure he hasn't spied this woman before. No, it's an entirely different kind of familiarity. It'll likely eat at him all night.

"Just be careful next time, hmm? Ye might hath caused a panic." The rat sounds exasperated.

He has half a mind to chomp on that finger, but restrains himself out of pure dignity. Instead, he stands, and then offers a low bow.

"It sure felt as though mine heart was fit to burst. 'Angel'." He can't help but huff a bit. How arrogant!

Then, finally, as the last bit of adrenaline wears off, he laughs.

"Oh why bloody not? Lady Angel 'tis! Tell me, aside from frightening poor wandering priests at night, what brings ye here? And /do/ be careful. The local populace is hardly tolerant towards those whom art...different." He ends lamely.

"Nay doubt such a well-armored woman as thineself shouldst not require a guardian." Another more analytical glance. A warrior perhaps?

Ferham (516) has posed:
     "I didn't see many people around, just yourself, I hope I didn't scare you too bad," Fer does seem to notice the odd look the rat man gives her for a moment there, but she doesn't seem bothered. She seemed to approve of the bow, either way, leaning back as those long legs of hers hung beneath her, crossed like that.

     "I realized, which was why I was wearing that cloth," she'd discarded it and flashed back into her armor of course, just to give the burmecian a bit of a surprise. Leaning over, that clawed, gloved hand is placed over the bandaged side of the rat man's face, gingerly, as if she was curious about the injury, at the same time she was basically cupping his cheek, more or less.

     "Hadn't seen that until now, sorry to see you were hurt here," she clucked her tongue and looked as if she might have winced as she felt over the bandage, looking genuinely sad for him.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja waves a hand dismissively. Whatever initial irritation he might have felt, he can't help but find the woman good company, in the manner of a person one both likes and simultaneously wants to strangle at times. It's a good start.

"Think naught of it. I am awake at least! Methinks I shall be headed for a cold..."

The rat freezes as that gloved hand touches his bandaged face. Even the most cursory feel would notice deep scarring beneath, as though someone took a bladed weapon and tore out whatever was within in a barbaric manner. Yet, so too there's something unnatural within. Hard, and barely flinching, it might well feel like glass or stone of some sort is within the eyesocket itself. A glass eye, perhaps? Oddly, it's warm to the touch. Whatever it is, it's highly unusual.

The stranger, a touch cruel, mischievious, and /different/, honestly feels for his pain. It strikes the rat, kindness being far too short in Ivalice. Slowly, all of his wariness melts into a look of pure thanks. There's no words. Only gratitude from one stranger to another. It's a minute later that he finds strength to speak.

After all that's happened as of late, he feels very, very weak. "...Ye art far too kind to me, dear Angel. I shall speak it plainly. My people's home, Burmecia, was conquered by the warring nation of Alexandria. One of their soldiers thought it a fun little game, after slaughtering mine friends in the Abby outside of town, to toy with mine body a touch." A motions to the eye and leg.

"The Abbot saved mine life. 'Tis a scarr I shall carry for the rest of mine life, in remembrance of his sacrifice. That I might live to preach, serve the Church, and to see that lives of those in Ivalice art made better." Says the rat quietly, honestly laying out his feelings to this woman he hardly knows. It feels strange, but somehow appropriate.

Kindness should be returned, after all, by a knight. But a bitter edge grips his voice.

"...And yet for all of that, it seems mine strength is hardly enough to save what little remains of mine people. Cleyra, her sister city, lay slain by an Esper of all things in the hands of a madwoman."

He scowls, hate and fury marring his features.

"A madwoman and her House that I fully intend to see ended, that it never again darken the hearthstones of innocent and simple people whom merely wish to live their lives!" His voice has a roar to it, despite his small size, temper flaring in a way he's rarely allowed it to. It's almost cathartic, in a way. He falls silent, suddenly, clearly embarrassed at such an emotional outburst.

Ferham (516) has posed:
     The angel's face grows more serious and she narrows her eyes in contempt for the story he tells, of what happened to him and his people. It was rather awful to hear, truth be told, though the kind of emotion she felt from him was something she'd only really experienced a few times before. It was otherwise strange and alien.

     "So there were invaders?" she shook her head a little, her gloved hand trailing a bit back and away from the rat man's bandaged face. At the back of her mind she might have been wondering just why she felt like there was something under there other than skin or bone. "I can't do anything to help the pain you're going through, otherwise I would, at least not at the present," she sighed a bit, slipping down from her spot on the railing and uncrossing those legs of hers. Her wings swivel around as she raised them high to avoid hitting the railing, and soon they extended around her sides and front, over the burmecian's sides as well.

     Those clawed, gloved hands were again on him, this time gently placed upon his shoulder, her left rising soon after from clutching him to waggle a finger at him, her voice low as she gave him a "Shhh..."

     There was an affectionate stroking of one of Faruja's ears before she leaned back again, apparently trying to comfort him.

Faruja (152) has posed:
There's a bitter smirk at the 'Angel's question. "'Twas sudden. They came upon us at night, during the heaviest of rains. Our sentries hardly noticed, even /with/ the outlying villages burning."

He doesn't even get into the part of his liege fleeing. It's too much of a memory to bear right now.

Wings envelope him. Soft hands touch his shoulder, and a single digit waggles at him. It's far too much like being scolded by a nun. Only this one happens to have wings. It may just help the effect. For a brief moment, he feels safe, and calm.

His eye closes upon the stroke to his ear, and for several minutes, there's nothing but the sound of rain and quiet sobbing as the rat lets this wonderful woman comfort old wounds. It's a memory that will stick with him for much of his life, and by the time the rat seems together again, it's with a smile.

"...I know not thine true name. But mayhaps ye art an Angel indeed, sent by the Lord, to offer kindness so freely. Faram bless ye. Lord knows Ivalice-nay-the Multiverse needs more such as thee." Stepping back, the rat simply gives her a hug of thanks before removing himself from her wings.

"Ye hath done more than enough for mine troubles this night. I...shouldst like to return the favor, mayhaps, one day. As a priest." Pause. He thinks, and takes out a small card. It's a number, and a name. Inquisitor Faruja Senra, Holy Church of Saint Ajora Glabados, Ambassador to the Union. A litany of titles. But one of those is useful indeed.

"And as a friend, if ye wouldst allow such an honor. Mine ear is ever thine, oh kind Lady."

Ferham (516) has posed:
     Ferham was quiet while the mouse continued his story, not interrupting him while he speaks, the rain dripping and rolling off her helmet and down her cheeks looking oddly like tears as she listens. She does however continue to give those elongated rat-like ears a few more stroking pats however, because mouse. As the mouse dis-entangled himself from her, she nodded and her wings rotated and swivelled back behind her.

     "Well, I feel bad about scaring you earlier, I just hope you are able to get back to your home in this rain," humans lived in houses and dwellings such as that, she understood, rat people shouldn't be that much different. "Well, that offer does help, those are cute ears you have," though as she listens to his full title she nodded a little.

     "I think I need to head back, however, I will give you a ride home, if you like?" Ferham knelt down a bit and offered a knee, as well as an outstreched arm. Apparently she was going to let him put an arm around her shoulders and she'd put one around his waist to ferry him back. She was apparently strong enough to carry him... and those wings of hers spread wide again, as she prepared to fly.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja stands up tall, at all of five feet and gil as she questions whether a /nezumi/ can get home in the rain. "I shall hath ye know, mine dear, that mine people art quite at home in the rain! Burmecia hath not earned its name 'City of Eternal Rain' for mere spring showers!"

Blast it, she's being so /nice/! Pride or not, he accepts the arms and knee, ferried about towards the small Church with as much dignity as he may.

The entire time, he's blushing in those 'cute ears'. Oh, females! "...Ye hath mine thanks. It shall be an ease upon the leg, and methinks mine cane is by now far along the river."

Before she flutters away upon leaving him at the Church, he'll offer a smile. No matter who she may be, 'Angel' has certainly gained the rat's respect, and perhaps, friendship.