A Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te in his early 20s - he has a
gift for arcanima and is a healer through and through. He is soft, warm, and
kind, always willing to lend a hand and wanting to help ease pain. He currently
lives in the Topmast apartments with his fiancé, Isarmont Sorel ( @isarmont-sorel ). How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? He is a former assessor for
the arcanist’s guild; has lived in/around Limsa Lominsa for the past 7 years; practices
alchemy; is a botanist and spends some time in/around the Shroud looking for
samples; spends a lot of time in bookstores just looking around.
Ishgardian Elezen, though he doesn’t easily admit to it. He’s
in his late 20s and on the short side, not exactly a mercenary anymore but
definitely a for-hire jack of all trades. He’s a smartass flirt who’s a touch
too reckless for his own good - and that’s the way he likes it. How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? Riski grew up in Ishgard, so
anyone of a highborn nature could have known him before he left at age 18; he
spent several years roaming the Shroud as a member of a mercenary band; he
currently lives in the Topmast apartments and spends a lot of time in Limsa
Lominsa; he’s known to travel all over Eorzea for the various jobs he picks up.
Duskwight Elezen, early 30s. He is a reclusive hunter and
seemingly self-appointed protector of the South Shroud. Having lived alone in
the forest for the past 17 years, he’s not good with people and can come across
as being extremely prickly. How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? He roams the Twelveswood as a
general whole, but his focus is mainly in the South - if you find yourself off
the beaten path, especially alone or doing something suspicious, there’s a
chance he’ll appear; he frequents Buscarron’s tavern on a semi-regular basis,
but that is the only ‘settlement’ he’ll spend much time around.
Xaela Au Ra of the near-extinct clan Takatori. He’s 20 years
old and married to the love of his life, Lynea Angura ( @likestohitthings ). They live together in the Mists, but
he works in Ul’dah in the thaumaturge guild. They have him working with
children and teaching the very basics of the art. This is good for him as well,
as it reinforces the basics and is helping him to refine his ability to control
his own magic. How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? Be in Ul’dah; run into him at
the thaumaturge guild; find him on the beach in the Mists; he loves fishing and
could conceivably be found either at the fisherman’s guild in Limsa or out
fishing somewhere nearby.
Late-20-something year old Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te. He
doesn’t actually remember how old he is, but he’s pretty sure it’s the higher
end of the 20s. He ran away from home at about the age of 10 and sneaked aboard
a pirate ship. Until just a year or two ago he was crew on that same ship; but
it ran afoul and sank. The Captain, the first mate, and the majority of the
crew - including his best friend - went down with it. How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? Tio’s in Limsa just trying to
make a living the best he knows how; you could hire this former shipcatte for
something; are you T clan? You might be related!
Duskwight Elezen pushing 40. He’s a trained conjurer, but
his main focus is his writing. He’s a novelist who lives in the Central Shroud.
He has a bad habit of getting too deep in his own head and can, if this happens
and he’s left to his own devices, wind up sitting in the rain or in full sun
for hours at a time (to negative effect later). How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? He’s a former member of
Gridania’s conjurer’s guild; he often makes trips into Gridania to visit with
his editor; do you read romance novels? You might have heard his pen name, L.
Flowers - though it’s widely believed the writer is a woman, and he’s not quick
to give away that he’s the one behind it.
Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te in her mid-20s. She’s fierce and
quick and takes 0 shit. Unfortunately I haven’t had much chance to play and develop
her yet, but that could lead to some interesting situations! How Could I Meet/Have Met Her? Khia spent time at the lancer’s
guild in Gridania; she’s taken up the adventurer mantle in order to get out and
see the world, because staying in the same village for her entire life was way
Midlander Hyur in his mid-late 20s. He fights with his fists
and tries to seem tough - but the punk act is a front. Again, he’s someone I
haven’t had a lot of chance to play yet. How Could I Meet/Have Met Him? He’s an Ul’dah boy; Taisto
has something of a reputation, but the thing is… it’s not his. He has the
misfortune of looking like someone in particular, which ends up in him getting
stopped in the streets and yelled at for being a cad and/or slapped.
FEAR. -What are your muses biggest fears? (Briardien)
“Oh… I uh, well,” Briar rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not afraid of anything!” he says pumping his fist into the air. “Er well, not true. I’m really not a fan of lightning. Thunder’s no problem but… yeah no lightning.”
((Also just wanted to let you know,Briar is a retired character now.)
( @nebula1984 asked this too, so here’s for you both! :) )
At this point in his life, I don’t think Basteaux knows how to be happy.
When he was a kid, there were many things that made him happy, like his family, magic, and exploring the stunning wild beauty of the Twelveswood.
Now thinking about his family makes him heartsick, he’s repudiated magic, and he’s on constant guard while walking through the Shroud.
He can find contentment in some things, like woodworking and carving small objects, or the deep peace of being alone in the forest. Being out in or at least just listening to the rain pattering down through the leaves is the closest he gets to happy now.
"You don't have to be alone." (Cause I just seen these and it's been a while since Dest last pestered Bast.)
Basteaux recognizes the voice before the words fully register. He
curls his hands more fully around the wooden mug in front of him rather
than look up to the face he knows he’ll see. “Even if one doesn’t have to be, from another’s perspective, sometimes it’s better that way.”
breathes a sigh and looks up, squinting slightly in the dim light of
the tavern. “I know you mean well, Destiney,” he continues, “but you
would be better off simply forgetting my existence.
Surely there are
others more receptive to your attention?” There is, perhaps startlingly, something akin to warmth coloring his smooth baritone despite the words. It’s as he rises from his seat that the reason becomes more clear. Though he hides it well, there’s a lack of stability about him, each step deliberate as he makes his way toward the exit.
He stops with his hand on the doorframe, glancing back over his shoulder to his surprise visitor. “Goodnight.”
“Friend” is a difficult word for Bast. He doesn’t have many people he would use the word to describe. Acquaintances, yes. People he’s worked with, also yes. Friends… sometimes I wonder if he knows how to have them.
Someone to whom Bast is close enough to use the word would have a lot of leeway since he would have to be comfortable enough with them already. Casual touch would be all right - touching a shoulder or arm while talking or to get his attention, nudges of knees or elbows in sides or other expressions of friendly banter.
(There are some places even a friend touching would give him a start, though. His ears, for one, are very sensitive both to sound and touch. Also touching his scars (either the one on his face or the one on his torso) - it isn’t necessarily off limits, but it would require asking or at the very least some sort of warning.)
He’s not averse to being leaned on, but he’s not experienced that sort of affection in 17 years. I think a friend could actually get away with holding his hand, too. Bonus points if Bast ends up being the one who initiates it.
It was the last thing Basteaux had expected to receive when Buscarron waved him over and handed him a postal package. He’d thought perhaps something had been addressed to the wrong person, or at most it might be from that odd but kind girl Destiney. He couldn’t have dreamed that it would be a book along with a letter from his sister.
The slim, black leather-bound volume now sits unopened on the back steps of the tavern, Basteaux himself right beside it. The letter, sliced neatly along its seal, rests on unfeeling fingertips. Not just his hands, his entire body feels numb.
Elle is dead.
His sister, his twin, his closest friend and toughest rival. And not only is she dead, but she has been for nearly four years. He didn’t know. He never knew.
The last thing he said to her was when they were sixteen years old. They’d yelled, thrown things - only a healthy overdose of respect for the Twelveswood and the elementals had prevented them from throwing fireballs.
Her letter, nearly two decades later: an apology. An apology he will never have the chance to make in return.