[To their eyes and ears, a Hyur bearing such obvious and detrimental scars, and a touch less obvious reticence, does indeed need tending. Of equal weight he is not one of them and thus it is hardly their affair until or unless he causes a stir.
It's that Ishgardians, city folk both highborn and low, are so damnably prone to stirring.
Y'shtola says a placid thanks and sits, resting her staff against the table in a manner similar to his cane. She busies herself in the pages of a book, a gentle turn of paper and the occasional triad harmony of ink, pen, and parchment as she takes notes. Another thank-you to the proffered cup of wine betrays the smile in her voice. Not every evening does she like the bustle and woodsmoke of the Forgotten Knight, but the nestling of intriguing guests and warmth and good drink meet well this night.
After a time she sets down the pen to study him. Well, the injuries certainly don't dampen his ability to polish off a coffee. When next he has occasion to pay, she sets a hand on the table nearby and touches his wrist with the tips of her fingers.]
Pray pardon the intrusion, but I've not seen coin the likes of yours before. From where do you hail, if 'tis not too forward?
[Her voice draws his attention once more, though his gaze falls just past her, unfocused. Still, it was rude not to look when one was spoken to, and he offers a wry, weary smile in reply. It must have been obvious well before his coin had made an appearance, but he appreciates that she had chosen to address the issue so tactfully.]
No pardon necessary, I assure you.
[He inclines his head towards the room at large, indicating the Knight's thinning crowd.]
No doubt others have noticed, as well. I hail from Lucis, though I suspect the name means little to anyone here.
'Tis not a port of call familiar to me. Doubtless the name of Sharlayan is likewise unknown to you, though I should hope some communal memory of it yet remains in lands far abroad. [Well before the Exodus, when students of all stripe and homeland came thither to share knowledge and the passion for learning. Though she knew but the tail end of such days, Y'shtola has oft wished to experience the brightness of their apex.]
Lucis. [As if weighing the word, turning it over in mental hands.] You must forgive my curiosity, I'm afraid. Scholars know not how to rest their minds. [Y'shtola folds her hands atop the table then. What she is not telling, nor asking yet, is that the aether twists and bends around him as though ever so slightly repelled, turned aside by some other force imperceptible to her senses. The last people she met thus afflicted were the Warriors of Darkness.
Of course, there are other...intelligences around whom the aether behaves too strangely. She can only hope this man before her is not an Ascian.]
And you must also forgive my impoliteness. [The hand upon his wrist turns to grasp his hand instead, firmly. A handshake, if he accepts.] My name is Y'shtola.
where the hell does time go, I am the worst at museboxes, I apologize :c
[He shakes his head slowly, the name itself utterly foreign to him. There were few lands in Eos that he did not know, even if he had never visited them firsthand, and the fact that he knows nothing of this place sends an uncomfortable chill through him. It would have been bad enough, finding himself stranded here even with his sight. Without it, he felt less than hopeless-- beyond useless.
As she goes on, however, he finds some small comfort in her words. A restless mind is something they have in common, and that is enough to make him feel grounded for the time being.]
A feeling I am well familiar with. I, too, am fond of learning-- precisely why it's so startling that neither Ishgard nor Sharlayan are familiar to me.
[Not knowing in itself is unfamiliar.
He shakes his head again, subtler this time, dismissing.]
My manners have not been what they should be, either. [He takes a firm hold of her hand in turn, offering a shake that's more confident than he feels in this particular moment.] Ignis Scientia. A pleasure, despite the circumstances.
['Tis more typical in Eorzea to bow upon greeting but she thought him unlikely to note the courtesy.]
The pleasure is truly mine, I assure you. [More than curiosity leads to a closer look at him once the handshake ends. Granted, the aether cannot show her everything as he seems removed from it still, but 'tis enough.] How came you into such circumstances? Perhaps we can do aught about righting them.
[Which is presuming a lot, on her part, but he is free to refuse the implicit offer. If Y'shtola were alone in a strange place she should want to manage on her own, too; t'would be a poor excuse for not offering, though.
At her next sip she finds her wine nearly gone, and seeks Gibrillont's attention. When he comes for the glass as if to refill it she refuses, and would he be so kind as to return with tea instead? Though she doesn't say as much, she wants all her wits about her for whoever this man proves to be.]
[Indeed, the tactile approach is both practical and appreciated.]
Would that I knew.
[The offer might have been presumptuous, but he picks up on the sentiment all the same-- this woman is interested in offering aid however she is able, even if an immediate solution seems highly unlikely. He pauses long enough for her to request tea from Gibrillont, taking another sip of his own wine as he waits, speaking when they're alone once more.]
The world as I know it has been a tumultuous place as of late-- dangerous and ever-changing, and yet this is far too much change even for the current state of Eos. [He pauses, briefly.] If I continue, you're sure to think I'm mad.
[Thus far he has given her no news or surprise. The world as she knows it is just as unstable and roiling, the very foundation of all knowledge shaken and spreading like petals are wont to do across rivers. It is a frightening and exciting time in which to live, for a scholar.]
It is said that only men in possession of at least some of their wits have the wherewithal to question losing them. [Her wry smile is audible, and the intrigue probably is too. Y'shtola has no way of knowing what she may be about to hear, but it will hardly be boring - or mad. If Ignis is touched he is of the most dangerous sort and the game has barely begun...but she doesn't think so.] You've my word that I shall listen even should your concerns prove an unfit mind.
Edited (HA I caught a typo before the reply came go me) 2017-04-07 13:54 (UTC)
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no subject
It's that Ishgardians, city folk both highborn and low, are so damnably prone to stirring.
Y'shtola says a placid thanks and sits, resting her staff against the table in a manner similar to his cane. She busies herself in the pages of a book, a gentle turn of paper and the occasional triad harmony of ink, pen, and parchment as she takes notes. Another thank-you to the proffered cup of wine betrays the smile in her voice. Not every evening does she like the bustle and woodsmoke of the Forgotten Knight, but the nestling of intriguing guests and warmth and good drink meet well this night.
After a time she sets down the pen to study him. Well, the injuries certainly don't dampen his ability to polish off a coffee. When next he has occasion to pay, she sets a hand on the table nearby and touches his wrist with the tips of her fingers.]
Pray pardon the intrusion, but I've not seen coin the likes of yours before. From where do you hail, if 'tis not too forward?
no subject
No pardon necessary, I assure you.
[He inclines his head towards the room at large, indicating the Knight's thinning crowd.]
No doubt others have noticed, as well. I hail from Lucis, though I suspect the name means little to anyone here.
no subject
Lucis. [As if weighing the word, turning it over in mental hands.] You must forgive my curiosity, I'm afraid. Scholars know not how to rest their minds. [Y'shtola folds her hands atop the table then. What she is not telling, nor asking yet, is that the aether twists and bends around him as though ever so slightly repelled, turned aside by some other force imperceptible to her senses. The last people she met thus afflicted were the Warriors of Darkness.
Of course, there are other...intelligences around whom the aether behaves too strangely. She can only hope this man before her is not an Ascian.]
And you must also forgive my impoliteness. [The hand upon his wrist turns to grasp his hand instead, firmly. A handshake, if he accepts.] My name is Y'shtola.
where the hell does time go, I am the worst at museboxes, I apologize :c
As she goes on, however, he finds some small comfort in her words. A restless mind is something they have in common, and that is enough to make him feel grounded for the time being.]
A feeling I am well familiar with. I, too, am fond of learning-- precisely why it's so startling that neither Ishgard nor Sharlayan are familiar to me.
[Not knowing in itself is unfamiliar.
He shakes his head again, subtler this time, dismissing.]
My manners have not been what they should be, either. [He takes a firm hold of her hand in turn, offering a shake that's more confident than he feels in this particular moment.] Ignis Scientia. A pleasure, despite the circumstances.
no subject
The pleasure is truly mine, I assure you. [More than curiosity leads to a closer look at him once the handshake ends. Granted, the aether cannot show her everything as he seems removed from it still, but 'tis enough.] How came you into such circumstances? Perhaps we can do aught about righting them.
[Which is presuming a lot, on her part, but he is free to refuse the implicit offer. If Y'shtola were alone in a strange place she should want to manage on her own, too; t'would be a poor excuse for not offering, though.
At her next sip she finds her wine nearly gone, and seeks Gibrillont's attention. When he comes for the glass as if to refill it she refuses, and would he be so kind as to return with tea instead? Though she doesn't say as much, she wants all her wits about her for whoever this man proves to be.]
no subject
Would that I knew.
[The offer might have been presumptuous, but he picks up on the sentiment all the same-- this woman is interested in offering aid however she is able, even if an immediate solution seems highly unlikely. He pauses long enough for her to request tea from Gibrillont, taking another sip of his own wine as he waits, speaking when they're alone once more.]
The world as I know it has been a tumultuous place as of late-- dangerous and ever-changing, and yet this is far too much change even for the current state of Eos. [He pauses, briefly.] If I continue, you're sure to think I'm mad.
no subject
It is said that only men in possession of at least some of their wits have the wherewithal to question losing them. [Her wry smile is audible, and the intrigue probably is too. Y'shtola has no way of knowing what she may be about to hear, but it will hardly be boring - or mad. If Ignis is touched he is of the most dangerous sort and the game has barely begun...but she doesn't think so.] You've my word that I shall listen even should your concerns prove an unfit mind.