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Note: English is not my native language, and I lack beta/proofreader, therefore expect mistakes and wonky grammar.
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They made way across cobbled streets away the grassy centre of the Square, the hangar and the airship docks. People clad in armour and carrying heavy weapons were few, making the streets feel mostly empty – it was the kind of empty that allowed for one to disappear after most taxing of a day, filled with decisions waiting to be made and lofty expectations to uphold. It was... familiar. It was quiet, only the slight whisper of a breeze playing through the hazel trees adding ambience to the moment.
Her eyes moved over the highly decorated streets and her eyes drinking in all the beauty of the masonry and the painted murals adorning the façade of small townhouses. That's what Terncliff looked like to her – a beautifully intricate lace, a strange masterwork in its simplicity, one which also happened to be burnt all across its edges. There was so much here that she could incorporate in her works.
They wandered the alleyways together, moving slowly between narrow corridors made of stone houses. Kebhut was attempting to commit the streets and patterns to memory. Some still had residents, most were empty. A perfect fit for the growing rebellion. He took her to past a building at the edge of town, one that was partly burned down by recent fighting. There were attempts to repair some, but others were beyond help. Structural walls torn down, and basements caved in. Presumably, his plan was to escort her to the apartment building, but she stopped and looked down into the hole, like an opened tomb ready for excavation. Even from this high up she spotted red splotches dry and dark in colour – on the walls and on the ground, some of which were half-hidden behind the debris, a mix of furniture, shelves, former support walls and some barrels.
"Is that..." She was eyeing something, and then cocked her head in what had to be most adorably inquisitive manner, "a wine cellar...?" she asked.
He inhaled sharply though his nose.
"It is."
"Don't." His hand shot out halting her before she could hop in, and his voice was low, hissed as his grip tightened on her.
She turned her head to look at him, eyes levelling at his chest, and then up towards his face. He could feel the muscles tense beneath the sleeve, even as she kept watching him as if she couldn't get a read on him.
"I am not allowed to explore?" Her voice was unwavering, but hushed, sure that no other around them would hear. Almost – dare he say it – menacing.
"I am less concerned with you exploring and more with the prospect of having to answer for missing property." His voice was a bit condescending, as if scoffing at her for not realizing something obvious.
She hummed, thoughtful, pondering, but then stepped back and he let go. She could see his mind working, trying to determine if this was a trick. That's not to say that she wouldn't take any chance she could get to explore, but she was patient. She could wait for the right opportunity. There will be plenty of time for it later.
"This was a resort then," the raen remarked suddenly, switching the topic.
"You must mean before the occupation." He paused. It wasn't the question that had surprised him, but that she had spoken up at all. "It certainly has the air of it, but if it was, it stopped having much of traffic in the years before we came."
"It is located far too high above the water to benefit from its proximity to the sea. The town has no other economical or strategic value aside from the hollowed-out cliff."
"You noticed."
"Even Garleans would be hard-pressed to dig into solid rock unless there was already a cave system to ease the process." After all, after Terncliff came under Garlean control following the invasion of Werlyt, and the airship supply depot was built directly into the rock-face. "If not smuggler tunnels than catacombs..." her voice lowered as in an afterthought.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Gaius raise a brow. Whether impressed or confused, she had no idea, and she didn't exactly have any interest to guess. They passed a small, secluded garden resting nestled in between the two buildings, lilac tree proudly decorating the patch of earth. The scent, although pleasant was almost overwhelming.
"Nothing. Merely surprised you have other affinities besides hitting the bottle," he replied with a shake of his head even as he moved to stand in front of her. "We're here," he gestured at the blue door of a three story building. "Top floor, door to the right."
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The place given to her was simple, white and marine blue, with two large windows overlooking the sea. It was one room with an adjoining bathroom, minimal counter and storage space, fire cooktop, several chairs strewn about, an antiquated sofa that doubled as a bed, and a coffee table. It was not the most luxurious of apartments but the sheets were clean. But again, this was an apartment. One did their own cleaning here.
She placed the package on one of the chairs standing against the wall and then reached for the statuette in her bag, but had instead a piece of folded paper fell out. It was creased and worn, folded and refolded many times, it could easily come apart at the slightest tug, and not because she was taking 'exceptionally' good care of it. Somehow, it still survived.
She cocked her head, feeling the discomfort and disorientation from her right side and grimaced.
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A few days earlier, at Mor Dhona market...
It was a small caravan, probably here to prostrate themselves before Rowena as she guillotines their purses, one by one. Nearly anything could be bought or sold in this place – for a price, of course, usually extracted later, and at interest, with rather liberal adjustments for the sort of mood she found himself in. To survive with one's assets intact, or even enlarged, one had to speak her language: the civilized language of bribery.
Walking between the quickly assembled makeshift stalls, Kebhut looked around for anything useful, interesting trinkets or materials that she could use in her work. Her eyes were drawn to something… odd. Peeking from beneath a porcelain set of cups (taken from an abandoned estate, no doubt), a writing set with a dull shine and what had to be an old magnifying glass, was a small statuette. The paint has faded away, but the craftsmanship was exquisite, details carved with precision that would require modern tools. And happily, it wasn't Allagan. She couldn't stomach anything Allag anymore.
But this… she rolled it around her in her hand, tracing the lines lightly with her fingertips, and hummed. Made out of petrified wood, a material was rarely used, even for jewelry, a funerary piece and reminiscent to those she had picked up from the sunken city.
Except…
She brought it up to her face, carefully sniffing at it. The statuette smelled like alcohol – wine, really. Specifically, it reminded her of the wine she had tried to drawn herself in after the Sapphire Weapon. Could the statuette have come from the area? Or did the merchants just stick this bundle of stolen goods in the same crate with the wine?
She looked around for whoever was running this stall when the linkpearl chimed against her horn, and in between the stammering attempt at nonchalant conversation from the other side and the curios case of craftsmanship in her hands, it was a miracle she even noticed the click of a gun. Albeit too late.
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Every time he came around it was the same thing, and at times like this, she especially liked looking at it. Almost as a reminder, even if she really didn't need one. A comfort then? Strange as it was, she never thought of it that way. She really should go and visit soon. Between the First and the telophoroi now, it has been a while since she had properly visited Ishgard. After her horn grows back. For some reason, she didn't want for the Fortemps to see her like this. There was a sensation in her... one she did not feel often.
And one she did not want to think of.
Closing her eyes, she refolded the paper and placed it in the inner pocket.
Her plan was to deliver the package first, but in Cid's absence she will use the time to look around for information about the caravan. With that, and the knowledge that Nero will not go digging around the most important package Mikoto sent, she made her way, down and out into town. She wanted to take a look at that basement.
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"Is the package secured?"
The moment the voice hit her surviving horn, she made a face like she had just bitten into a lemon. Some jokes run their course faster than other. Present company, though, was spared of any 'opinionated' comments on her part.
Why was he even still here?
The raen cocked her head in question.
He met her gaze with a brief, almost imperceptible headshake. "Does my presence aggravate you? Do not worry. I have a meeting to attend to shortly."
"What of Castrum Collinum?" she remarked instead, and before he could speak up
"Nothing. As far as we could discern, it has been abandoned." He stated through thinned lips, as though guesswork left a bitter taste on his tongue. "Automated security, however, has remained active. For now, we do not have the manpower to brave the lower levels. It would be foolhardy to explore it now."
Given the potency of some of the garlean machina it would be a slaughter in making, yes. It was understandable he'd want to avoid it.
"Not that it has stopped fools determent on looting."
This piqued her curiosity, and she turned to him. "How else would they reach the lower levels?"
"Why the sudden interest?" His eyes fixed on her. It felt a little like he was sizing her up, trying to discern what it is that was going through her head.
She shrugged, not offering a further explanation.
"If you are asking if there is such a thing as 'back door', know that most castrum avoid having such weakness in their infrastructure. Not all though, but without a floor plan those would be difficult to pinpoint, if there even are any."
"And to get a floor plan one would have to-..." she said it as a statement rather than a question.
"Short of having a copy delivered from the capitol, you'd have to dig in the archives of the castrum itself..." He grew silent, and when she glanced his way, he was shaking his head, his hand over his eyes. "Which is something I hope you will not do else I will have to explain the Scions why their hero is away from the battlefield, nursing wounds."
"You won't have to. Not today." Her voice sounded even more disinterested and muted than usual, and he turned, his eyes met hers, piercing her, although there was no anger or aggression in them. She answered his look with yet another shrug and turned her attention to the buildings surrounding them. With a jump for one of the higher hanging signs in the street – with the momentum, she threw herself up onto it and with a leap to grab onto a low hanging window sill. "My thanks for showing me to my suite," she called even as she climbed further up.
Gaius crossed his arms, eyes partly narrowed as he watched her scale the building. He let out a mirthless chuckle. He really shouldn't be surprised by such a spectacle. She reached the roof without much trouble, and climbed over the lip of the building, presumably heading out to crisscross the town across the rooftops.
Dribbles of dusky sunlight washed the lush forest surrounding the town and many trees in the town itself, and warmth hummed in the air.
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