The entrancing silver moonlight that accompanied the group when they slept and watched over them when they had dreamed had faded away to the bright, all-encompassing shroud of the sun. The white light illuminated the room, yet did nothing in rousing the four until a little bit later. They had slept peacefully it seemed. But even though their sleep was deep and solid, their dreams were not.
Ryanti suddenly parted his lips wide open with a harsh inhale of the air around him, his eyes shooting open with dilated pupils. He appeared to shake a little bit before letting out an exhale, his blurry vision clearing itself up in moments to witness the others shuffling around upon exiting their slumber. Ryanti’s diaphragm expanded and contracted as a drop of cold sweat traveled down the path of his forehead before he finally calmed himself.
He placed his hands upon the floor and sat himself up, as did the rest of the group. They quietly looked around, and then upon one another. Their glances changed into a solemn expression of understanding. It did not take much for them to speak without words; that they had all experienced something that night. It was to be expected. They were much more in the know than the captain, and this was far from their first experience.
“You all had those dreams again.†Eightyfive finally mentioned, tiredly reaching for her long hair and banding it up into a ponytail that seemed to jut straight out of the back of her head instead of settle down below it. Ryanti stroked a hand through some of his locks on the side of his head with tired eyes as Fortythree responded. “Trapped in water you cannot feel, in a reality you cannot comprehend with words said to you that you do not understand?â€
“Yes…†Ryanti trailed off for a moment as he made his own input. “I could almost feel it. Like if I was one of them. Way back when. I saw the door again.â€
He scratched his shoulder as a melancholy silence fell over the group for a moment before Jonathan spoke up. “This is no coincidence. I believe we all understand what we are to do, and what we are to look for when we get there. We’re getting help from unlikely sources this mission, not just from Limsa. We should be grateful for all the help we can get. Now let’s tell this ship’s crew that we are not lethargic nor lazy, even when offered grace. Get your wits about you and take the clothing that has been given to you. Leave your suits here.â€
“Yes sir!†They all said in unison, and Jonathan then went to the clothing. Having still had his suit on, he was probably the only person that could get up and do it anyhow. Eightyfive had slept in her underwear, and Ryanti nude. Not to mention the Lalafell. As Jonathan quietly muttered the name of whom the clothing had been given for and tossed them to each individual, Eightyfive felt like she should say something, but she didn’t. She was wide awake because she had slept very well.
And she had slept very well because she did not have that dream.
That same enticing aurora of the smell coming from the mess hall finally managed to leak into the door and caught the attention of practically everyone. It only served to motivate them to wake up further. It was funny in retrospect that it did not matter whether someone was a simple farmer or a highly specialized Black Label Operative. Everyone needed food, and everyone loved that smell in the morning.
When they were ready, they had knocked on the door to let it open. Needless to say, Fortythree was pleased to finally meet the other Lalafell on board. Fortythree was Plainsfolk as well, after all. “Oh, what a lovely morning!†The Lalafell chirped in reaction to seeing him. With Pamido’s own clothing, he could be mistaken for one of them any day at a distance. It was only up close, at viewing his metal plates that had to serve to repair intense injuries to spots on his face, that perhaps it could be surmised that he did not look so Limsa-like. “I do apologize for having to acquire your wears. I do so hope it is not too inconvenient. If I could merely set my eyes on an additional veil, I could hide these... uhh… clumsy metal workings.†He rambled on, almost like a Doctor with too much time on his hands. Eightyfive stifled a giggle. “What he means is that we would like to chow down. Could you lead us to where that smell is coming from?â€
The pattern of four men and an additional Lalafell’s pacing could be heard from quite a ways away. It was apparent that these Operatives chose to be stealthy when they were and it was not always a natural instinct to hide their steps. Especially when it was early in the morning in the middle of friendly waters. But another reason could be because there –were- no operatives. No, it was merely just another four of Sounsyy’s crew had showed up for breakfast.
Jonathan was comfortable in his Shepard’s tunic, which was a dark blue and loam brown in color. He had on him a brown Hempen bandana that he had tied up with rather skilled precision. His grizzled face and look made him fit right in. Eightyfive had on a black vintage doublet vest, her peachy skin on her arms possessing a scar or two of her own, not nearly as much as Jonathan’s insane level of scarring. It was worth noting that Jonathan had chosen to wear the long sleeve. Eightyfive had no hat, still possessing a vanity of keeping her hair looking nice and neat. It was almost if she was made to taunt Sounsyy, though she had no clue about her battle with her hair.
Fortythree looked like a splitting image of Pamido. Almost like a cousin. It was normal to think that every Lalafell knew one another anyhow.
Ryanti was more comfortable than he expected in his simple Hempen short-sleeved tunic that was a tan in color with a white undershirt. He shared cotton slops of a little darker brown color with Jonathan, and Forager Shoes that were black and a little dusty from being used. Ryanti had not a scar on him, though there was a light blue bruise on his arm. His form fit the Midlander’s clothing very well for a Miqo’te. He was unsure how much of a seabearer he looked. It was amusing to think a Veanysus being a simple sailor. Ryanti wearing this was like if Sounsyy had dressed up for a ball.
But still, it felt different. Comfortable. Liberating even. He too had not bothered with a hat. His hair was in a bit of a loose mess. Morning syndrome among other things. He had waved his hand through his hair a few times trying to get it to settle down.
Ryanti managed a wave at Cwaenlona, Marjanie, and the Captain, his voice booming through the room. “So!… How do we look?â€
Ryanti suddenly parted his lips wide open with a harsh inhale of the air around him, his eyes shooting open with dilated pupils. He appeared to shake a little bit before letting out an exhale, his blurry vision clearing itself up in moments to witness the others shuffling around upon exiting their slumber. Ryanti’s diaphragm expanded and contracted as a drop of cold sweat traveled down the path of his forehead before he finally calmed himself.
He placed his hands upon the floor and sat himself up, as did the rest of the group. They quietly looked around, and then upon one another. Their glances changed into a solemn expression of understanding. It did not take much for them to speak without words; that they had all experienced something that night. It was to be expected. They were much more in the know than the captain, and this was far from their first experience.
“You all had those dreams again.†Eightyfive finally mentioned, tiredly reaching for her long hair and banding it up into a ponytail that seemed to jut straight out of the back of her head instead of settle down below it. Ryanti stroked a hand through some of his locks on the side of his head with tired eyes as Fortythree responded. “Trapped in water you cannot feel, in a reality you cannot comprehend with words said to you that you do not understand?â€
“Yes…†Ryanti trailed off for a moment as he made his own input. “I could almost feel it. Like if I was one of them. Way back when. I saw the door again.â€
He scratched his shoulder as a melancholy silence fell over the group for a moment before Jonathan spoke up. “This is no coincidence. I believe we all understand what we are to do, and what we are to look for when we get there. We’re getting help from unlikely sources this mission, not just from Limsa. We should be grateful for all the help we can get. Now let’s tell this ship’s crew that we are not lethargic nor lazy, even when offered grace. Get your wits about you and take the clothing that has been given to you. Leave your suits here.â€
“Yes sir!†They all said in unison, and Jonathan then went to the clothing. Having still had his suit on, he was probably the only person that could get up and do it anyhow. Eightyfive had slept in her underwear, and Ryanti nude. Not to mention the Lalafell. As Jonathan quietly muttered the name of whom the clothing had been given for and tossed them to each individual, Eightyfive felt like she should say something, but she didn’t. She was wide awake because she had slept very well.
And she had slept very well because she did not have that dream.
That same enticing aurora of the smell coming from the mess hall finally managed to leak into the door and caught the attention of practically everyone. It only served to motivate them to wake up further. It was funny in retrospect that it did not matter whether someone was a simple farmer or a highly specialized Black Label Operative. Everyone needed food, and everyone loved that smell in the morning.
When they were ready, they had knocked on the door to let it open. Needless to say, Fortythree was pleased to finally meet the other Lalafell on board. Fortythree was Plainsfolk as well, after all. “Oh, what a lovely morning!†The Lalafell chirped in reaction to seeing him. With Pamido’s own clothing, he could be mistaken for one of them any day at a distance. It was only up close, at viewing his metal plates that had to serve to repair intense injuries to spots on his face, that perhaps it could be surmised that he did not look so Limsa-like. “I do apologize for having to acquire your wears. I do so hope it is not too inconvenient. If I could merely set my eyes on an additional veil, I could hide these... uhh… clumsy metal workings.†He rambled on, almost like a Doctor with too much time on his hands. Eightyfive stifled a giggle. “What he means is that we would like to chow down. Could you lead us to where that smell is coming from?â€
The pattern of four men and an additional Lalafell’s pacing could be heard from quite a ways away. It was apparent that these Operatives chose to be stealthy when they were and it was not always a natural instinct to hide their steps. Especially when it was early in the morning in the middle of friendly waters. But another reason could be because there –were- no operatives. No, it was merely just another four of Sounsyy’s crew had showed up for breakfast.
Jonathan was comfortable in his Shepard’s tunic, which was a dark blue and loam brown in color. He had on him a brown Hempen bandana that he had tied up with rather skilled precision. His grizzled face and look made him fit right in. Eightyfive had on a black vintage doublet vest, her peachy skin on her arms possessing a scar or two of her own, not nearly as much as Jonathan’s insane level of scarring. It was worth noting that Jonathan had chosen to wear the long sleeve. Eightyfive had no hat, still possessing a vanity of keeping her hair looking nice and neat. It was almost if she was made to taunt Sounsyy, though she had no clue about her battle with her hair.
Fortythree looked like a splitting image of Pamido. Almost like a cousin. It was normal to think that every Lalafell knew one another anyhow.
Ryanti was more comfortable than he expected in his simple Hempen short-sleeved tunic that was a tan in color with a white undershirt. He shared cotton slops of a little darker brown color with Jonathan, and Forager Shoes that were black and a little dusty from being used. Ryanti had not a scar on him, though there was a light blue bruise on his arm. His form fit the Midlander’s clothing very well for a Miqo’te. He was unsure how much of a seabearer he looked. It was amusing to think a Veanysus being a simple sailor. Ryanti wearing this was like if Sounsyy had dressed up for a ball.
But still, it felt different. Comfortable. Liberating even. He too had not bothered with a hat. His hair was in a bit of a loose mess. Morning syndrome among other things. He had waved his hand through his hair a few times trying to get it to settle down.
Ryanti managed a wave at Cwaenlona, Marjanie, and the Captain, his voice booming through the room. “So!… How do we look?â€