[Action in Rabanastre | Backdated to the 16th] [Letters on the 17th]

[resplendance]

[If there's a sight that's been missing from Rabanastre for a long time, its that of Penelo scurrying about running errands and chores. When she was younger, her sunny head flitting around taking care of tiny tasks for Migelo was a common occurrence. Once again, she's got much to accomplish and she can be seen all about the city, though this time her matters are more personal and less shopkeeping.

There's the matter of catching up with local friends, including Mjrn. She'd dropped her Viera friend a note when she came back, but hasn't had the time to stop in and say hello until today. There's the necessity of hitting up Tomaj at the Sandsea for information and huffing at him when he tries to charge for it. Cid is missing. Vaan is missing. Those are serious enough to warrant finding out anything she can. There's the matter of people with grimoires not from Ivalice at all too. One of which is hauled up injured with Aion to keep tabs on him. She still needs to work out a more permanent solution of how and where to house a growing dragon too. It's almost too much to keep track of at once, but she must. It's necessary. And busy keeps her from fretting too much. Mostly.

She can be found all over the city at different points in the day. One stop at Clan Centurio to say hi and catch up. Shopping in the bazaar for supplies before she has to leave to investigate Cid and Vaan's whereabouts. Another stop in the Sandsea, firmly handling Tomaj and his gil grasping. Not to mention stopping in shops, a visit to Migelo, as well as one to Old Dalan.]


( Letter to Ashe )

( Letter to Larsa and Basch )

[Sochen Cave Palace, Action for Phon Coast | ota]

[sixth_sefira]

[This isn't the first time that Sephiroth finds himself stranded in a strange location with no real understanding of how he really ended up here. The book earns his attention more due to the oddity of its presence in this strange location than any other reason. Unlike the places he's previously woken into, this doesn't look like any place for a book to be casually laying around as if waiting to be noticed and picked up.

It's the sound of breathing that is decidedly not human and the familiar sound of leathery wings that pulls his attention from investigating the book and it's more reflex and old habit that has him moving to dodge without thinking when the first attack happens.

Unexpectedly, the fight that follows does not go as planned, and ends up decidedly out of the norm for him. He's no stranger to working with someone to take down beasts such as dragons. This is the first time he has to admit when he's actually needed help to take out a dragon. Though he has a feeling that the dragon he'd ended up facing was no ordinary dragon. It reminded him in a way of Bahamut, but why would a summon be here? Was it summoned or was it imprisoned here and did he have the misfortune to end up in it's lair?

Those questions remain unanswered for now since it appeared that his aid has vanished now that he's no longer in actual need of her.

Due to injuries sustained in that fight and the issue of fighting his way up out of this palace-like cavern, it takes him a few days before he actually finally comes upon other people in this new world. Unlike Gaia, he has been given no means of communicating beyond in person. Though the book he's found has proven itself interesting, given it has gone from blank pages to recounting the battle against Bahamut Prime.

The camp he finds is an interesting thing, while his hair and his eyes are definite attention flags, once people have learned he's not from around here, he briefly garners more attention until he's satisfied curiosity which is when people finally begin leaving him alone to mull over what he's learned in the process of satisfying the curiosity of others.

Over the days that pass, he listens to the talk around him, gathering what intel he can. He ends up drawing his hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face when the winds decide to blow. When he's not listening to others, he's exploring the area around the camp and practicing his new skill set, re-learning in a sense how to best bring the fight to his foe without suffering too much in the doing so. It would seem that he's lost the endurance and ability to take the hits of his enemy like he was once capable of. Something in this world has nerfed that particular trait of his. He's not sure what he might be here, but it certainly isn't a knight. He does at least still possess his speed and agility and as he discovered in the fight with Bahamut, he's once again capable of casting his limit break when he so desires to do so.

Perhaps once he's figured out just where he should go from here, he'll think of leaving the camp behind, but for now -- well, the life of a hunter here doesn't sound that bad really. It'll be interesting he's certain, let him check out this Ivalice while making the funds to take care of his needs. ]

[Action | Rabanastre Cathedral | OTA]

[blessedsaint]

[Despite the deluge being present south of Rabanastre, the skies over the city are clear and full of sunshine. It's the perfect day for an impromptu gathering, one such as the one massing outside the cathedral. The sun is nearing its zenith in the sky, but the crowds are ignoring the heat, for a chance to listen to the priest on the cathedral steps.

Ajora is unlike the other Kiltia priests. Rather than clothe himself in ornate and ostentatious robes with cloth-of-gold and jewels enough to feed a small city, he and his acolytes merely wear plain cloaks of simple cotton cloth. They appear, by all appearances, to be simple and humble, more concerned with the people and their needs than extensive and costly show of rank.

He is delivering a most stirring sermon about the goodness and light of Faram. The Father of Light alone is worthy of worship and his Paradise is nigh for all. It is a radical theology to many, but there is such an air of goodness about the priest, that is is hard to deny his doctrine. There is a promise of hope, of salvation from suffering and grief, which has e'er been the close companion of the Dalmascans since the Imperial Occupation. It is the tantalizing promise of relief, the promise of hope for the future that compels them to listen and believe.

After he is done speaking, he spends the next several hours blessing children, soothing and comforting the hurting, easing the discomfort of the downtrodden. He and his disciples distribute alms to the poor who come with open hands. If he grows weary, there is no sign of it, as a kind smile and a warm welcome is extended to anyone who approaches.]

[Letter for a Magister]

[cruentatafoedus]

[It is late into the evening, this day numbered the 18th of Plumfrost, and yet for those whose work will never end, perhaps the letter comes as no surprise; one letter in a string of hundreds, filtered through many hands, left to be posted at a crystal of no consequence. The contents, however, are as follows, and, due to the nature of the recipient, have been checked - then double checked, then  - the hand is perhaps unfamiliar to its reader at first, small, cursive, tilted ever so gently with practiced grace even though the paper in which it is written upon does not warrant such strokes -]

 

 

Most Esteemed Judge Magister,
 

 

Allow me to submit my congratulations upon garnering the happy news that, indeed, you are yet alive, and time, one presumes, has been kind to you these three years past wherein my honorable brother has been blossoming in your charge.
You shall be no doubt shocked, perhaps inclined to fume and demand to know the truth of this letter and I, alas, cannot give you but my word as Solidor that you serve with such dedication that it is truth unfettered, enchained as we both are to matters greater than ourselves.
I confess to you now I feel naught but loss and confusion as to what has brought me forth and instead look to you to fulfill your duty as Judge Magister of the Empire: Grimoires, Rifts, Ajora, and Holy Seraph unbound from her prison.
You have pushed forth for answers, of that I have no doubt, and I ask that you falter not in pursuing these ends as more than the lives of one rest upon the result. What has deigned to raise me has no nobility in its heart, seeking but a tool with which to better break us all from infant peace.
Do what you will with my words, Your Honor, for we are both men with brothers.

V. C. S.

[action | Rabanastre | OTA]

[haeresis]

[Despite Ramza's close scrape with a Tiamat upon his arrival in this past Ivalice, he's fortunately still in one piece. He travelled southwest on his chocobo, and came across a charitable travelling merchant who took pity on the lost squire. The merchant was able to offer him free supplies and direction to Dalmasca, then on to Rabanastre. There, Ramza's spent the past few days getting his bearings, and he joined Clan Centurio as a means to earning some extra gil.

So far little has been on his mind except finding a means to survive while he learns about this world of the past, so wholly different from everything he knew. Despite the strangeness of his situation, though, there is some familiarity in being hurled into the unknown -- in a bizarre way, it's not unlike the desperate days when he turned his back on House Beoulve, and instead became a mercenary. At least joining a clan seems to be far better than working for a man like Gaffgarion. Though he still might be a sellsword here, at least he's using his skills to protect others.

Rabanastre still overwhelms him, in its scale, its vastness, the varied people, and the technology, but he's slowly easing his way into life here. He can be found exploring the city; at the Sandsea checking the board for hunts; or tending to Boco, his chocobo, at the chocobo stables by the city gates.]