Shanzira and Virion: A Support.

Written from Virion's point of view.

Such a gleam my bow gives off! My arrows, how polished they are! But of course, who else is responsible for them but myself? My skills in archery were unparalleled in Rosanne, and so they remain here in Ylisse. Who else gives such care that not only he, but his weapons, are all shining and in the bloom of their health?

There is, of course, one weapon I take care does not shine, but that is because it is never wise to let any know I carry a dagger in my boot, in addition to the one attached to my belt. Given my stature in society as Duke of Rosanne, not to carry such things would be most unwise.

At any rate! My gleaming air-blades are now ready to sing their song of death and glory. To the practice fields, that I may keep ever sharp my own skills.

Aside, canvas which conceals my small dwelling quarters of war. It is time I graced the world with myself once mo– Oof!

Urgh.. No, I was not knocked off my feet! I merely stumbled into one of the fairest in the Shepherds. However, before I can properly greet the good lady, she speaks... and ever is her tongue sharp:

"Well, never had a guy walk right into 'em, normally he looks before he walks. Half-asleep, Virion?"

Who else but Shanzira could possess so rough yet so elegant a tongue? There is an easy grace with which she speaks, the sort of which is difficult to portray in words. It suits her all too well– her coppery curls, never to be tamed; her bold posture; her confident smirk– contrasting with a delicate body concealed beneath a thick cloak to imitate that of our tactician... All of it lends to her nature as a woman who appears delicate, but carries much experience in the harsh ways of the world. Not that I wish to pry, of course.

To address her words.. I needn't say the hour at which I arose– sunrise itself could not come sooner, could it?– thus I answer so: "Nay, milady, I was but blinded by the radiance your fair skin emits. Might I praise your skill in capturing so skilled an archer off guard? Only you could do such a thing."

"Heh." Hmm? Whyever the chuckle, Shanzira? "You're forgetting Kellam, there's no better sneak than him. Anyways, I have your commission ready." Oh? But does she not normally carry reinforced panels of canvas? I see no great bulky shape on her person... Perhaps she has furled it like a scroll.

I trust her decisions in her craft, and she spared considerable time to make a work of art for me. Thus I greet this statement with a smile, as grateful as I can ever manage. "Of course. Allow me to retrieve my gold–"

"Hold your horses, you ain't seen it yet. Here." A slim hand, long robbed of excess flesh, dips inside her cloak, and emerges with– a metal plate? She presents to me a breastplate, impressed with an image of myself wielding a bow I dare never imagine myself possessing– the Yewfelle. Above and below the image are words– above, "A dandy little man"; below, "whose eye misses no prey".

I must say I am stunned. "I asked for a painting of myself in an honest and realistic setting. This is..."

"Exactly what you wanted, with an artist's twist." She sounds so satisfied... Perhaps it was my awe she was after! And she has got it. "We're all soldiers, we fight on the battlefield. I see a lot of you doing that. I came up with the words when I put my mind to thinking how best to describe your stay in this army. You flirt with all the girls and get shot down so many times, but on the battlefield you're much more effective. This is about as honest as I could put it."

I do not wish to imply that I thought Shanzira less than capable, but she has far surpassed any expectation I had. Truly, she takes the ordinary and makes it extraordinary with but a touch of herself. "You humble the artisans of Rosanne with your talent. How can I ever be expected to reimburse you for such magnificence? I fear no amount of gold can pay for this."

Her hair flutters in the air as its base, her skull, tilts to the side. "Well, I have to pay for the lessons in steelwork that I needed in order to learn to make this, materials as well, and the actual effort it took. So all in all, a hundred gold, please."

What?! "That is far cheaper a price than I could have expected! How?!" Surely she does not undervalue her work so? "I would triple that price, and it would still be insufficient! This is the work of a master. I will settle on no less than five hundred gold coins, fair lady. Any less is an insult to your talent."

Brown orbs stare me in my eyes for a good while ere she speaks again. "Whatever floats your boat. I hope you have all that to hand over."

"But of course!" Aside, tent! I must uncover my wallet so as to pay the artist. In counting, however, I am left without the greater portion of my wallet. I remove what is excess and return to give her the entire bag. "Here you are, my lady. Spend it well; you earned it."

She smiles: the fairest gesture she could spare– more precious, methinks, than even her talents in the field of art. "I'll be sure to hand your wallet back in a bit... Hang on." Oh? What is she– ah. Erm. Perhaps it is unnecessary for her to shed her cloak; I feel somewhat... uncomfortable seeing exactly how thin her figure is. It is disturbing, in a way– has she lived her entire life ill-fed? And yet she is still well enough to empty my wallet into her cloak and use it as a make-shift wallet. She returns my empty sack. "There you go!" With a weighted jingle, she tosses the bag over her shoulder and resumes her strict posture. "Pleasure doing business with you, see me again if you ever want another piece." Thus she traipses off, a slender figure shouldering great burden, and giving off an appearance of ease as well.

I am left pondering the obvious question: How?

Author's notes: Fun to write, took me a bit to get Virion down, though. He's so wordsy! Also, you can smell the shipping. Virion-scented shipping... Oddly, it smells yummy.

S Support whenever I feel like it.