fatemarked_logs | meet-and-greet

She wouldn't presume to know what was making him nervous. Her own presence didn't even factor into any oddities; the weirdest thing to her was that there were none of the other human races mixed in along with these hyurs everywhere.

"Be that as it may," she allowed, head tilting to the side. "Your point is well made; there is only so little we can do here. Anyroad, I might still ask you bear my company a few moments longer if it's all the same to you. I can promise only conversation and my name in return. O'danya Mitnu."

If she is staying to talk, he can only assume she needs something from him. He just cannot imagine what it might be; he doesn't exactly work as cloth and clothesmaker here, after all. "Rumpelstiltskin," he returned, managing to keep any tremor out of his voice. "Were you taken, too?"

It was funny he should think like that. O'danya was much more used to others expecting things of her, considering her demeanor marking her as an adventurer to hire for anyone who understood the trade. It seemed something so organized had no need of sellswords, however, and O'danya was fine with making her name known from the bottom up once more. It would only be a year for herself, after all, before she could return home.

"Well met, Rumpelstiltskin. That I was," she said, ears canting lower for a brief moment. "Far as I understand it, it's only to last a year until my services become mine own to offer. A Sentinel is not quite as grandiose as a Warrior of Light, but they certainly cut to the heart of what our purposes are. Might I inquire as to which side you've fallen on?"

She doubted he was also a Sentinel, but she had seen stranger things happen. That stick could probably do a lot of damage.

He switched his walking stick into his other hand to reveal the mark on his hand. He's hardly the only person in the same predicament, surely, and that leaves him partly hesitant to complain. But it's not just him he's worried about. Baelfire is alone somewhere. There are soldiers, and the Dark One, and a war, and ogres, and how could they take Rumpelstiltskin and not bring him?

That's what keeps him talking, he supposes.

Shifting only enough to see the mark offered, O'danya couldn't help but let her expression lighten. She knew exactly what that was, and looked up to Rumpelstiltskin with a twinkle in her eye.

"A weaver, then?" she asked. What else could a spindle mean? Much as she sometimes found the monotony of spinning the thread and weaving the cloth distasteful, it was a simple and lucrative pastime that had no end of possibilities. She owed quite a lot to Redolent Rose for his tutelage, but now began to wonder at how those from other worlds might see fashion and the creation process behind it.

"S-sometimes."

His only talent, and it doesn't amount to much, does it? Sure, at home he made enough to look after Bae, keep their house up. They weren't wealthy, but the business the village gave him, even with his reputation working against him, was not bad. He couldn't hope to compete with what people made here, though, nor had he been asked to. He was just there to be "kept safe."

Certainly interesting, even if the man seemed terribly nervous despite the lack of apparent threat. She shifted back to give him space once more and inclined her head almost like a shrug. Many made entire livelihoods on the career of weaving, although most who survived off it would dress in accordance to that.

"I weave myself," she said. "Although I've not had the time since... well before even this incident, I should say. If you've a mind for it, I would like to see what sorts of things you make."

Something to pass the time, not to mention O'danya often found putting her hands to use often soothed her mind to go with it. Maybe it would help this Rumpelstiltskin find his center.

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head. "I don't have my wheel," he says contritely, "or any of my other tools."

For once, it is not just him being avoidant. If he had his spinning wheel with him, some wool -- he might have had something to focus on, something to calm him down. Instead all he can really do is wait for answers, and hope this all ended quickly, even if all signs point to an extended stay.

He frowns, perhaps growing a little more confident. More than likely, though, the shock is just wearing off. "I'm sorry...but what are you?"

"Perhaps we might be able to have some provided," she considered aloud. For all that their captors were very intent with keeping everyone under their watch, they also seemed to care for their wards' state of mind and as much autonomy as could be allowed given the circumstances.

Her head tilted at the question. She didn't quite parse it at all, really. She had just admitted to being a weaver but perhaps he was following the thread and wanted to know what she did that kept her otherwise occupied? "By trade, I am a marksman. An archer," she clarified, realizing that with Stephanivien's continued work toward legitimizing machinists as capable soldiers she might have to be more specific from now on. "As well as a bard."

Her practical response to him, that surely would have come from any other person, leaves him feeling a little ashamed to have asked. He would have been horrified to think of Bae learning to speak to people like that from him. It leaves him hesitant to draw attention to any of her characteristics, now.

"You--"

He frowns, considering his words a little more carefully.

"You don't look like anyone I've ever seen."

Now that seemed like another question entirely. She looked at him with an obviously confused gaze before it turned into contemplation; she had to think on that one. Anyone he'd ever seen? All she had seen here so far had been hyur like himself. Her expression shifted to match the revelation, understanding and baffled at the same time.

"I am miqo'te," she said, slow and almost unsure of the answer. Had he truly never seen another before? They weren't the most outgoing of races but even the closed-off nation of Ishgard, whose population was only of elezen and hyur, were not surprised by the strangers wandering into their recently-opened borders. Her tail swished as if subconsciously trying to draw attention to the parts of her that different from other races. "Is that what you mean to ask?"

His eye finally catches the tail, and he retreats a step. More than anything, it gives him a start just because he hadn't noticed it before. He isn't alarmed; he comes from a world where ogres, fairies, and other strange beings exist. He just doesn't know what all of them are.

He shook his head, uncomprehending. "I've never heard that word before. At least I don't think."

At that reaction, she stilled her tail and brought it to rest behind her. Although it was more natural to let it do as it wished, like speaking with one's hands during conversation, she could refrain while figuring out where they stood as far as understanding what the other was or was not comfortable with.

"It is my race," she continued. The idea that miqo'te might not be known wherever Rumpelstiltskin was from, or at least had another name or another form, was hard to wrap her head around. "Miqo'te are traditionally known for the clans with which they live, formed around their Nunh or matriarch. We are a race of hunters. And... you are hyuran?"

That is another word he doesn't know. It sounds like human, and maybe it is their word for it. He cannot really assume, though. "I'm a man." He swallows. That doesn't fully make sense, and he knows it's not quite right to say. "Human. Where I'm from, we're called humans."

He hasn't seen a lot of other people before today, but so far she's the first non-human he's seen. That he could tell, anyway. Appearances are not always the most obvious thing, after all.

"As are we," O'danya said with faint amusement. Did he mean to say that all hyuran people were called humans? That other races simply did not exist or were considered beasts much as the tribes native to Hydaelyn? "Hyur, elezen, roegadyn, lalafell, miqo'te, au ra... they are all humans."

This was certainly interesting and seemed to be capturing his interest as much as her own, anyway. There were so many similarities that the differences only seemed more stark for the contrast. A world without miqo'te seemed like a world worse off for the lack to O'danya.

This makes no sense to him, but she doesn't seem to be at at all alarmed. It's helpful for keeping his own mood relatively level, perhaps in a way he's not even sensing, himself. Accustomed to most people (aside from his son) tiring of him eventually, he is used to tones shifting, giving him some signal that it's time for him to be silent and disappear.

His answer is quiet, like he expects it will be what finally turns the conversation. "'m sorry. That doesn't make sense to me."

That answered an unspoken question of O'danya's, whether any of the other races were present. For as far as Rumpelstiltskin knew, there were only hyuran inhabitants of his world that claimed to be human and he had never before heard of a race like miqo'te in shape or name. It did leave one to wonder if there were other places that consisted solely of lalafells or elezen or anyone else in such ways. How strange.

"That's quite all right," she said, tapping at her chin with her knuckles as she considered. "It is rather much for me to take in myself. Alichi'ra would likely understand it better, or Cid or Alphinaud... What I assume this to mean is that we've much to learn about each other, Rumpelstiltskin. Perhaps we can come closer to understanding the meaning of such a confounding and unnecessary change."

Rumpelstiltskin's a little perplexed that he's known this person (she IS a person) for only a few minutes and she is speaking as though they've made some manner of alliance. How long will it be before someone that knows him appears, and tells her that her trust in his ability to help in this task is entirely misplaced? He bites his lip.

"I-it is just likely that our worlds are very different," he tries to explain, hoping that will satisfy her.

It hasn't entered his head yet that she might come from a place that's unaware of the notion of other worlds. The concept is so simple and well-known that even he, the village coward, has some knowledge of it, even if no one believes how he came to such knowledge.

Edited 2016-01-09 15:04 (UTC)

In a way, they've all been forced into an alliance. A company unwillingly brought together, but not necessarily unwilling to work with each other despite the circumstances. O'danya wasn't going to look away from those in need or simply dealing with being in the same situation.

"Of that, I've no doubt," she agreed. She was no stranger to the idea of other worlds, Eorzea having had its fair share of visitors in a relatively short amount of time, but learning more about them wasn't something there had ever been a chance to do. "Might I ask what place you call home? Mine is Eorzea."

Rumpelstiltskin doesn't answer right away. He has so many reasons to not want to trust anyone here, even if it means barring him from some comfort and assurance that might make this a little more bearable.

"It doesn't matter. I was leaving anyway."

To get away from the soldiers, to spare his son the war for just a little longer, perhaps long enough for it to end. If the army had control of the Dark One, it couldn't be long until then, could it? But they have to survive. He has to keep Baelfire safe, and he can't do that from here.

There wasn't much helping an answer like that. O'danya was not keen to pry on what appeared to be a sensitive subject, although it really did make her more curious than before now. There were plenty of reasons someone might not wish to stay in their current land. War being the forefront on her mind. Ala Mhigo, Doma, several smaller towns caught in between Garlean encroachment and Eorzean protection...

"Then perhaps we should bid it a good riddance," she said, speculative more than ready to write anything off. How not-wishing to be in his home fit into arriving here seemed more complicated than that. "Although we should bid our current situation the same sort of welcome."

meet-and-greet | January 2016

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