She was trembling. A glance at her reflection in the river had brought the shame flooding back. She had stupidly cut her hair, obeying, for the first time in her life, a directionless impulse full of anger and hatred. The result was long hair about the sides of her face and short hair at the back of her head. She looked more a man than a woman. It was preferable to being an ugly woman. The dull color of her hair, which could not quite settle on snow white or pale gold or handsome silver, shone a queer blend of the three, or else a hue located somewhere in the middle of that hazy spectrum. This dull, thin hair framed a narrow face with dry, brown eyes like scorched desert soil. There was simply no spark in them, no point of intrigue. Her lips, taut and thin, begrudgingly agreed.
This poor specimen of an Elezen, tall and gangly, neither dark nor fair in complexion, cloaked in night black robes, was called Ever Starfall. A strange name for a strange woman, who rejected all claims to heritage and history of her own. She was grateful, still, that Momodi had accepted this answer. With the flick of a quill, Momodi had gifted the lost Elezen a new life. In Ever Starfall, the possibilities were as endless as the length and breadth of the sky. Ever Starfall could be bold and daring. Ever Starfall could be a quiet, quotable academic. Ever Starfall could be a righter of wrongs renowned across the realm.
Ever Starfall was free to become the person she had always meant to be—or she might have been, had the shame of her villainy not weighed upon her soul.
She turned her eyes to the idyllic hills all around her. La Noscea was lovelier in person than in the books. The bright, morning sunshine did nothing to nurture her courage, though gently did it warm her skin. The island shone emerald green, spanning ever onward toward the horizon, toward the swishing sea. A tender breeze blew. It touched her face with fingers cool and soft. Closing her eyes, Ever took a breath.
"So," came a deep, graveled voice from below, "are ye prepared?"
Ever's eyes flung open at the sound. Her heart jumped into her throat. Standing ankle-deep in the river, just below the bridge upon which she stood, grinned a man with too-square teeth. His jaw, too, was square, as was the Midlander-middling frame of his body. He seemed ordinary enough. By his leather garments and the bow on his back, one could not discern whether he was merely a hunter or a fellow adventurer. From where she stood, he appeared to be of average height, perhaps of her age, and brown of hair. A scar crossed over his right eye, through the eyebrow. Under the fierce sunlight, his blue eyes glittered like crystals.
"I—I beg your pardon?" Ever stammered.
"Y'know," said the man, "lest they call ye mad."
She pursed her lips. "I don't follow."
"If ye keep goin' past the bridge," he said, smiling relentlessly, "and yer not prepared, it'd make ye mad! That's how they came t' call it Madman's bridge, ye ken?"
She did not ken. "Who would cross unprepared? There are dangerous creatures beyond this point. You would have to be a fool."
"Aye…" The hunter scratched his head. "More common's a fool than a madman."
Afflicted by the unbearable itch of annoyance, she was making to rebuke him when there was a great splash. Upstream, a Gigantoad was hopping on monstrous legs toward them. It shot forward its ferocious, dripping tongue to catch the hunter, stopping just fulms short of its prey. This stoked the hunter's ire, who dashed toward it within seconds of the tongue's withdrawal. He made no effort to draw his bow.
Has he forgotten it!? The buzz of her scurrying thoughts crescendoed into a shrill, psychic scream. He's either a fool or a madman!
"You—" She did not know his name. He did not look back. "Your weapon! You must draw your weapon!"
In an instant, he was in range of the gargantuan amphibian. Whether he had heard the Elezen's warnings or ignored them was anyone's guess. He continued on his path undeterred, despite the obvious and inevitable danger looming over him. Then, he was crouching, and from under his chest rose a clenched fist to meet the slimy Gigantoad's jaw. An uppercut! Was that his plan from the first!? Ever was ready to sling insults at him, and to hurry to his aid with her magicked scepter. What followed did not occur to her as a possibility, for indeed it could not have been deemed possible at all.
The force of the blow sent the Gigantoad flying through the air at lightning speed. With a puzzled ribbit, the overgrown toad was swallowed up by the azure expanse.
Ever looked up to follow the toad's trajectory. The giant toad had left neither shadow nor scream lingering behind. For all she knew, it might have disappeared behind the clouds, or else fallen to pieces as it soared higher and higher and higher into the sky. Or perhaps it would simply land somewhere else. Truth be told, the whole affair reeked of dream logic, if not the heedless whimsy of a foreign fairy tale.
"That's fer stealin' me lunch earlier!" cried the hunter, shaking his conspicuously unbloodied fist.
"Your lunch!" Ever balked. "It should have eaten you alive!"
"What! Me? What'd I ever do tae you?"
"No, no, you misunderstand—" Ever huffed. "You know that isn't normal, don't you?"
"What? Eatin' lunch?"
"No!" The Elezen writhed, combing furious fingers through her hair. "Just! Would you listen?"
"Sure, o' course," said the hunter, brightly. "Oh, by the by. Have ye got the time, Miss?"
This gave Ever the chance to breathe. She did so, deeply, then fished out her pocketwatch. "It's seven past two."
The hunter's gleam and glow gave way to a great shock. "Fuck!"
"W-Watch your tongue!" said Ever, herself at a loss. She groped at the thoughts swimming circles in her head, but to no avail. The hunter darted off, overtaken by a purpose of the utmost import.
Wait—Wait! She reached out to grab his arm, but he had run too far. He was fast for a stubby-legged Hyur. She began to follow him, confident she could close the distance with her long, Elezen strides, if not for what occurred next. Like a bolt of lightning tearing through the sky, her senses dizzied once more, and her head was overcome with a sharp pain. The hunter faded from the greying world around her, scampering toward the city of Limsa Lominsa. Then, there was the tinkling of a voice.
[ "Two o' clock, on the dot!" ] chimed she, a dainty Lalafell conjured before her, as though out of thin air. Her shiny blonde hair, tied up in ribbons, was styled in pigtails. Her large, brown eyes glowed like amber. By the make of her white robes, Ever took the Lalafellin maiden as a conjurer. She spoke not to Ever, but continued all the same, like a spectre whispering into the past. [ "I'll be waiting for you, okay? I trust you know not to keep a lady waiting~!" ]
Opposite the conjurer stood the hunter, nodding emphatically, giving her a thumbs up. [ "Ye don't have tae tell me twice. I might even be there before ye, lass." ]
His comment drew a blush from the conjurer's delicate countenance. Ever, with severe annoyance (for some unnameable reason, or many mingled into one), surveyed her surroundings, hoping to ground herself in the reality of the verdant countryside. Instead, she found the colorless world of a pub staring back at her, offering little but the muffled echoes of men's drunken laughter in answer. Then, she blinked. The soft breeze was back, along with the swaying blades of grass in the endless sea of La Noscea's emerald sheen.
That's where he's going, she realized, breathless. How did I—? Where did that—! Surely, that was the Drunken Wench!
A Gigantoad launched into the sky. A cursing fool. A memory she did not own. These were curiosities only the hunter could quell, he the only link between the three. She would find him and she would know. So, with no little amount of reluctance, she made haste to return to that wretched city of ruffians and rogues.