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| No title. |
| (2013-06-10 - Now) |
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| Faruja Senra | Who knew that duelling a blind school girl was such a bad idea? Aside from the body-breaking injuries, it'd almost gotten him chewed out by his superiors. 'Reckless', 'arrogant', and 'stupid' had been thrown about until he mentioned the hiring bit. He'd managed to leave the room with a happy superior and a light pat on the back. If there's one thing Faruja Senra is good at, it's working military systems, even holy ones to his advantage. And so, the Templar (very slowly) made his way back to his home in Mullonde. Just slightly smaller than usual, it was once the home of a Priest before the elderly man gained a promotion, and therefore a better living space. With the rat having distinctly lacked i anything befitting his own status as a Templar, they'd shunted him into the home. Others may have considered it an insult, and the rat's decently sure there's a touch of racism at work. But the house is well furnished, kept clean while he's away, and is stocked with a good library, good tea and good booze. It's better than he'd ever dreamed of back home, and he won't complain. Leaning on the cane he's picked up while his broken leg mends, he enters his home, gently closing the door. "Maira? Be thee still here, my dear?" Calls out the Templar, having ended up at her healing mercy. Not that he'd minded at all: it's a large house for one small rat, and after living with the Shard Seekers for so long, having someone around is more than pleasant. |
| Maira | Maira is at the small sink, washing some bandages so she'll have good clean ones, sterilized even. She looks over her shoulder as Faruja returns, smiling warmly. "Of course. I'm not done with you yet, after all. You're doing better though--stubborn as you are. You've had your walk, not sit down and I'll get you something to drink. Tea," she informs him. A healing tea. Which means it probably will not exactly taste fantastic. Maira is wearing an old set of white mage robes she'd found around so she doesn't have to get her things messy. She doesn't have many clothes as it is, really. "Now...I have to ask Faru, because you never did tell me...WHY did you challenge Akari to a duel?" |
| Faruja Senra | And thus, Faruja is being Healer'd at. The Templar makes half-hearted, obligatory grumbles of protest before sitting right down. The healing tea idea has him grimacing, the tea-lover in him wretching at such a violation of good herbal practice. At least Maira knows what she's doing. "Ahh, 'twould hardly do to give thee reason to force me to bed without supper, oh dear Healer Extraordinare." Jokes the rat with a smile, grunting as he sits down at a nearby table. Those ribs are still quite broken, white magic or not. Why? Faruja goes silent for a long moment, muzzle in a line. How much could he tell her? Revealing everything would be impossible, particularly given her association with Angantyr. He doubts Maira would much like his vision of the world. "Maira, back home, for all of my years of training and dedication, my skills were far too weak and immature to face the enemies before me. Such weakness cost myself, and those dear to me so very much. Here, though I have grown stronger under the tuteledge of the Church, so too am I yet unable to drive back the forces that would do harm to what this new world hath laid at my feet. /Weakness/. Arms bound in chains, of them, none more solid and seemingly inescapable." Sigh. Out of his armor, the rat looks even smaller than usual, the cassock he wears hardly form fitting. "In order to break these chains, one must face those greater than themselves. Having heard the rumors of her great strength, I thought to guage my own. After all, if one cannot defeat a mere girl, how ever can I hope to stand on even ground with my enemies, mortal or otherwise?" Pausing, and the Templar shrugs. "And as I found, still quite lacking. Pathetic, really. At times I wonder if my efforts are all for naught." Answers the rat quite honestly, letting down his guard in his own home, and before a friend. "Though the potential acquisition of a useful asset was a secondary, and far more successful gambit." |
| Maira | Maira snickers, shaking her head. "Never could I be so cruel as to put you to bed without supper!" she tells him. "That would be too terrible a fate. You're grumpy on an empty stomach after all," she finishes, sticking her tongue out at him. She approaches then, listening to her store and checks all of his bandages, sniffing them occasionally to make sure they smell right. And not rotting and corrupted. That's important. Her eyes are sympathetic, nodding as he speaks. "Heh...you are a great knight Faruja. Your heart is strong--your body too. I understand what you mean though...I've always been weak. I'm no warrior--but I've had to get stronger just to survive and protect my friends," she tells him, resting a hang on his shoulder. "Maybe you could find someone to...train you? I don't know. I've considered asking Mercade if he might teach me to shoot, just in case my magic fails me," she offers with a small shrug. |
| Faruja Senra | A Burmecian, and a Templar, is far too forthright to stick one's tongue out in return. Faruja smiles, tilts one ear, and reaches out to tickle Maira under the chin in response. /Utterly/ non-childlike behavior. Utterly. "Oh, Mum, how merciful! And I shall have thrice portions of ice cream after dinner!" Follows up the rat, tail eventually ruffling her head. It's just so nice having friends where he can forget his troubles and duties for a moment, and let his hair down, at least figuratively. The rat's recovering quite well, not a hint of corruption to be found, though his ribs had required painful settings. A splint still resides beneath his clothing, the rat lucky none of them had poked through the flesh. As usual, he's lucky to be alive. No doubt later in life all of this bodily abuse is going to catch up with him, if he lives that long. With a long sigh, Faruja forces himself to relax, mind already trying to latch onto news as of late: Archadia, Alexandria, and various other unpleasant things. It's far too easy to fall into negative thoughts and depression while on the mend, feeling useless and wasteful. "My dear, thy words are kind. Mayhap 'tis the way of the world, however. Fah, to hear me speak as though I am naught but some Squire while watching their superiors before them! Come now, Senra, 'tis naught like thee." Faruja says, ending with a touch of self-chiding. Reaching up, he rubs his face, devoid of bandages for the moment. He's donned an eyepatch to spare Maira a glance at his ruined eye. A comforting hand, and the Templar finally slumps back in his chair, shifting so as not to upset his wounds. "Strength...yes. My, my, my. Though we are so very different, you and I, mayhap 'tis the same path upon which we trod. Or at the very least, paralel ones paved with different stones. Thy body may be frail, yet it contains a power beyond that of myself. A rare, rare gift. Thy will? Peerless. So many see a simple girl, a mere nothing. Hah hah, we both know the truth that lies beneath. Those such as thyself may yet be the key to ceasing this horrid war the Heartless and their masters wage." A fuzzy brow rises. "Firearms, hmm?" The Templar can't help a slight hint of derision there, knightly predjudices working their way in. Still, it's Mercade. "The man is quite adept with them. Even with...rock salt, as they call it?" Smile. The rat remembers their little fight in the arena well! Training is difficult, however. "Mmm. 'Tis difficult. The mysteries of my Church are well guarded, even within. Yet...yet so too hath I see those whom use similar ones. Mayhap I hath been too insular. Why, in fact...I do believe the good Judge Magister Zargabaath hath shown some skill in righteous warfare." He's long overdue to investigate! Pausing, the rat turns to Maira, one of the Templar's plots catching. Coming to a decision, he speaks. "Maira. If 'tis no trouble, mayhap you would honor me with the tale of thy rearing?" Comes the Templar suddenly. |
| Maira | Maira laughs brightly as her hair is ruffled. Time with Faruja always did her well. He was like the brother she never had, but fuzzy! Always kind to her. She couldn't really understand how Angantyr could not like him...well, besides that whole...heresy thing. They'd work on that. "Oh if you have that much ice cream you will have a stomach ache my dear one," she replies, going along with the little game. Seeing that his ribs were still bothering him a great deal, Maira summons a cure to brush over him like a warm touch to ease some of the pain and speed up the healing process. She's had some time to rest since pouring all her energy into putting him back together again. At his compliments, Maira blushes and looks down. "You think too highly of me Faruja...if you knew some of the mistakes I have made recently...." she shakes her head. "Things have been difficult. I have a lot of new information--I am not sure where it will lead. I will warn you though--what happened at Serendipity. It will keep happening." "Heh, yes Mercade is an excellent shot! It also just kind of looks like it would be fun to learn. Never hurts to learn new things, right?" she replies with a shrug. She leans over Faruja then a presses a kiss on the top of his muzzle, smiling. "You are a good friend, and I have not known a finer knight," she informs him. "Maybe you should get thicker armor though hmm?" She's taken off guard when Faruja asks about her upbringing, blinking several times before she takes a seat nearby. "I...guess. I've actually just learned more...ah, where to begin? I grew up in Midgar, which fused with Goug. You can still finds some parts of Midgar there, but most of my world fell to darkness years ago. But I wasn't born there, which I only just learned....I was born in Palamecia," she begins. "I grew up knowing only my mother. She was a potion maker. I never knew my father--so I thought--he had died when I was too young to remember. We lived in the slums of Midgar, below the big plate...there was hardly ever sun, just the nicer city above us--but it wasn't all bad, I don't think. I don't remember a lot about those times. I was sick a lot, and when I was six me and mom both got the same sickness and....she died. I made it through. The only reason I made it was Uist--he saved me, bonding himself to me somehow. I don't know. He was with me ever since. After my mom died, I was alone. I was homeless for a long time...homeless and starving. Eventually, I was taken in by an orphanage, where I spent the rest of my life until the Heartless came." "Now...I have learned recently that, and this will sound crazy, Uist is my father. He was a soldier from Palamecia, sent by the emperor through a dark portal. He met my mother...etc. Its all...very surprising." |
| Faruja Senra | Faruja, in fact, is the fuzziest. Unless Moogles count, in which case, he's the fuzziest Templar by one limb. More cures, and the rat can't help but be thankful. Having so many in the Church, and amongst his friends that can piece back together crazy zealots in a boon indeed. Truly, Faruja would likely be in far worse a shape were he any farther along the evil side of the alignment scale! Having a good heart underneath the religious insanity can be helpful. It will keep happening. The rat simply smiles. "Someone that I once met said something similar. To ever flee...do not become like her, Maira. Though it may come at the cost of blood and toil, even that of others, yellow doth not suit thee. Stand thy ground against evil. For in that, one honors the fallen and those whom would stand beside thee in keeping the worlds safe. 'Tis a thorny path, crimson tears oft shed, yet such slickness doth make troublesome ground for pursueing foes." /Firearms/. "If 'tis useful, and pious, then I suppose." Grump! Firearms are for not-knights! "About as thick as my frame can handle. Unlike Lord Fratley, Faram preserve his soul wherever his feet yet trod, my ahh...stature makes such impossible. Any thicker, and 'twould hamper my ability to take to the skies. Thinner, and 'twould be enough to rend me in twain. Nay. At best, methinks 'tis a matter of the sharpness of my blade, rather than the breadth of my armor." A small frown. His thoughts turn to that feeling...the raw power he's unleashed twice, yet he knows not it's source. Opening his muzzle, he almost speaks of it, before far more important matters come to light. Falling silent for such a wordy person, the rat listens to his friend. Sharp, white teeth are exposed a few times as he gathers his words, then reconsiders, then tries to speak again. For once, he seems at a loss, before a quiet round of prayer has him settled. "My tongue, purple as 'tis oft colored by others, fails me my dear. /Palamecia/, is it? My, my, my, never could I think thee of such a lineage. And how unfortunately ironic." Sigh. To think that one of her greatest enemies was her own very countrymen, at least in part. "My condolences for thy lost parent, though no words may heal such wounds." He knows all too well what it's like, though his own came from fire and war. All he can do is pray time has eased it. "I do suppose it explains much, however. Ser Uist's dedication..." The rat had long ago given up the thought that Maira was crazy. She'd proven otherwise, and Uist's existance. "And mayhap even his continued presence. What Father would not wish to see his child grow, and to protect her even after his earthly body hath long decayed." A thought strikes him, and the rat's eye peers about. "...I do not suppose 'tis possible to offer a spirit tea?" He wouldn't want to be rude to Maira's /father/ after all! |
| Maira | Maira takes Faruja's hand, enjoying the simple physical comfort of a friend. "No...I will not run more than I must. It is strange though, to know there are so many people counting on me--people who don't even /know/ me," she replies, shaking her head. "It is very strange and I don't quite know what to do. Mateus...he let me leave Palamecia, but he will take me if he feels he has to--to protect what is 'his'" she replies, her expression going momentarily sour. Maira laughs then, sadly. "No, you cannot, and he's not here. There's a complication. Uist, he never remembered his life. Something about meeting Mateus however, has forced him to. Now, when he is around me, he draws the energy from me...the very life. He does not do it on purpose, but his memories--the call to life. It is hard to explain," she says, sighing, her shoulders slumping from this immense weight. "We will have to part...somehow, he will have to move on--or he will kill me." |
| Faruja Senra | Faruja's hand gently squeezes in return, not bothering to hide concern for a friend. "Good. Good. Strange mayhap, but thy empathy and care...truly, Faram be praised, that it be thyself that hath been given such a power. Others would use it for their own gain without thought. Good men and women at that. Nevermind to think of tyrants." The Templar wouldn't trust himself with that kind of power. Half the world would be in flames. Teeth clench, the rat's temper rising up. His table swiftly gains a few more scratches as claws dig into it. "...Let him make the attempt. Mullonde's gallows have room." Once again, Faruja is speechless, though this time it's in quelling his anger before he says something stupid. Or breaking into tears at the thought of severing such a connection between parent and child. Either way, the image of seeing Mateus at the end of a rope grows all the more appealing. Long minutes of silence pass before Faruja can speak. He stands, looking Maira in the eyes. If she looks close, the rat is trembling slightly. "...I quail to break such, Maira." The woman deserves honesty. "Truly, it wounds me to even think of attempting to remove such a blessing. That...that this Mateus would meddle in such..." He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "No Father worthy of the name would desire to harm his child. Ask, Maira. Anything. If 'tis in my power, it shall be done. No words of wisdom have I. Only claw and scroll stacked high. There are those whom know of the subject. Ask, and their counsel shall be thine own if I must drag them from their very beds and shake them about!" There's an almost panicked tone to the rat. The urge to do /something/ is almost enough to cause it to burst at the pure cruelty of it all. |
| Maira | "Shhh, Faruja. Calm down," she says, reaching out to soothe him, her hands gently on his shoulders. "I do not even know if Mateus did so on purpose or if it just...triggered something. There is enough to blame him for without adding anything else. It...I hate to think on losing him Faruja but he /is/ dead. Perhaps I should just let him move on," she says with a sigh, leaning forward to hug Faruja. Cuddly mouse thing! "I have heard I should seek out a Yevonite Summoner? That they have a ritual that can send ghosts to the beyond. Do you know people with similar powers?" |
| Faruja Senra | Hugs! Faruja trembles, in the odd state of utter despair and pure rage that defines the ball of contradictions that he's become. Eventually, he slumps weakly against his friend, a few tears escaping. One can only be the image of a strong, impervious knight for so long before giving in to insecurity. There's few others whom he'd trust with his weaker side than Maira. "Yes...dear Lord, forgive me, Maira. Hah. Should be the other way 'round, 'tis thyself that needs comfort. I ill deserve a friend so wonderful as thyself. Faram put me upon the path to worthiness of thee." His spirit has to go on. That he can latch onto. Faruja stands taller, nodding resolutely. Uist has earned the rat's respect. He deserves the peace of the God Faruja speaks so often of. "Words never spoken more true. I shall see to the archives, and any similar cases. My own skills lay in more direct quieting of hostile spirits. Mayhap, however, something may yet be done." Calm breaks at the mere mention of the Church's chief rivals. Faruja sputters for a moment. "/YEVONITES/!? Those...those horrid, idolatous, Godless wretches!? Absolutely not! Ser Uist deserves far better than such treatment! I shan't hear of those knaves brought within a league of such a fine man!" That may have been a mistake, Maira. Standing suddenly, ignoring the spark of pain and shifting of his ribs, he's half way towards the door at a speed that's utterly unhealthy for an injured Burmecian. "I shall see to the Holy Church's summoners at once, not some unclean mockery of a holy order!" Pausing, with visible effort, he pushes down his vitriol. "...Lord bless, my friend. Never shall thyself, nor thy father stray from my thoughts. By thy leave, please, use my abode at thy pleasure." Then, he's off, about to drag some poor Church summoner out of their beds. |