[ Ishgard truly has truly been nothing like she has seen before.
The Pillars rise so high that she must tilt her head back to see them. The statues of knights of eld are either pristine or in ruin, depending on which part of the city one steps in. The entire city itself bathes in a sense of something ancient and yet current; locked forever around a singular moment of wartime. The harpoons to strike at dragons remain well oiled, while parts of the city are in complete disarray. At first, she had no idea where to truly look first, as she and the other few of the Conjurer Guild stood at the main gates to the city. Although everyone else seemed to look at her, as none others were robed in white with red under fabrics, and a hood dawning her head. The markings of the white mage stand out against the conjurers, as they would, given very few white mages exist on the star now.
Alkaid Mercedes, a strange name for a Miqo'te and a monkier as well, and the conjurers had been tasked with aiding the Ishgardians in their war with the dragons. War looms on the horizon for Eorzea as a whole, with whispers of what the Empire might do. Gridania had hoped that by aiding Ishghard, they might see the favor returned should war truly come. Alkaid had her reservations of recieving any benefits, and instead, took to aiding soldiers as best she could. Eventually, the handful of conjurers and one white mage were led to Ishgard and permitted to stay within the city. Rumor of the conflict with dragons stirring beyond skirmishes once more whisper, and it would seem the Holy See would prefer their visitors closer than further away.
A place was provided to them within the Brume: Ishgard's more unsavory housing. However, none of them seemed to mind, and Alkaid certainly has not. They are the people in need the most in Ishgard, and if nothing else, the people can be served if the Temple Knights cannot. Which, of course, is not to say that the Conjurer Guild representatives have not helped the Knights. They had helped several Knights in the field around the Vigils of the green pastures of Corethas.
One knight in particular caught her gaze immediately. He was handsome, but in pain, and thus Alkaid focused her attentions on healing him. The moment their eyes met, however, she felt an immediate flush to her cheeks. His eyes were the color of the sky, and truthfully, she cannot recall what else might have been said in those moments. Her heart pounded with its echo in her ears, and the only thing that seemed to matter to her in that room was the knight in her care. There had been a surge of emotions she truly has yet to sort out, but, the instant attraction was the most obvious.
It had been hard to pull away from him to move to the next who needed her aid, and she somehow found herself always looking for one Ser Aymeric de Borel afterwards. Luck must have shined on her, for gratitude and introductions eventually turned into shared meals. Even so much to the point that she made a note of where she might usually find him within Isghard's walls when the Conjurer Guild had been relocated.
Her thoughts have, as usual, turned towards him as she sits in the small living space of the home afforded to them. Her fellows have either set to dinner or are resting in various places of the small venue. Yet, her eyes remain on the ceiling, with her hands folded in her lap. She realizes she does not truly know where in the city that Ser Aymeric lives. How could she find out, without fanning rumors already muttered in the streets of the Last Vigil? Would he prefer homemade treats when he is called to temporary stations at the Vigils around Corethas? Or, does the staff he surely has in his home take care of it? Should it truly matter? She is merely a visiting healer, and no doubt her heart is the only one that beats so quickly when they are together, and aches when they are not...
Her ears twitch at the sound of a knock. Alkaid glances at the nearest clock to check the time, curious as to who might be calling them at this hour. The most logical answer would be the Temple Knights requesting their aid once more. A sigh leaves the white mage before she soothes her robes and makes her way to the door. A hand settles on the handle and for a moment she dreads the idea of seeing a Knight at the other side of the door, having been sent to fetch the conjurers. Alkaid closes her eyes to push the exhaustion away from her person. Her shoulders square, and she opens the door. ]
Is there something I can do for... [ Alkaid's statement drifts off once she realizes who it is at the door. Her ears lift underneath her hood and she immediately feels the rush of red to her face. ] Ser Aymeric?
let us see how long these tags get!
The Pillars rise so high that she must tilt her head back to see them. The statues of knights of eld are either pristine or in ruin, depending on which part of the city one steps in. The entire city itself bathes in a sense of something ancient and yet current; locked forever around a singular moment of wartime. The harpoons to strike at dragons remain well oiled, while parts of the city are in complete disarray. At first, she had no idea where to truly look first, as she and the other few of the Conjurer Guild stood at the main gates to the city. Although everyone else seemed to look at her, as none others were robed in white with red under fabrics, and a hood dawning her head. The markings of the white mage stand out against the conjurers, as they would, given very few white mages exist on the star now.
Alkaid Mercedes, a strange name for a Miqo'te and a monkier as well, and the conjurers had been tasked with aiding the Ishgardians in their war with the dragons. War looms on the horizon for Eorzea as a whole, with whispers of what the Empire might do. Gridania had hoped that by aiding Ishghard, they might see the favor returned should war truly come. Alkaid had her reservations of recieving any benefits, and instead, took to aiding soldiers as best she could. Eventually, the handful of conjurers and one white mage were led to Ishgard and permitted to stay within the city. Rumor of the conflict with dragons stirring beyond skirmishes once more whisper, and it would seem the Holy See would prefer their visitors closer than further away.
A place was provided to them within the Brume: Ishgard's more unsavory housing. However, none of them seemed to mind, and Alkaid certainly has not. They are the people in need the most in Ishgard, and if nothing else, the people can be served if the Temple Knights cannot. Which, of course, is not to say that the Conjurer Guild representatives have not helped the Knights. They had helped several Knights in the field around the Vigils of the green pastures of Corethas.
One knight in particular caught her gaze immediately. He was handsome, but in pain, and thus Alkaid focused her attentions on healing him. The moment their eyes met, however, she felt an immediate flush to her cheeks. His eyes were the color of the sky, and truthfully, she cannot recall what else might have been said in those moments. Her heart pounded with its echo in her ears, and the only thing that seemed to matter to her in that room was the knight in her care. There had been a surge of emotions she truly has yet to sort out, but, the instant attraction was the most obvious.
It had been hard to pull away from him to move to the next who needed her aid, and she somehow found herself always looking for one Ser Aymeric de Borel afterwards. Luck must have shined on her, for gratitude and introductions eventually turned into shared meals. Even so much to the point that she made a note of where she might usually find him within Isghard's walls when the Conjurer Guild had been relocated.
Her thoughts have, as usual, turned towards him as she sits in the small living space of the home afforded to them. Her fellows have either set to dinner or are resting in various places of the small venue. Yet, her eyes remain on the ceiling, with her hands folded in her lap. She realizes she does not truly know where in the city that Ser Aymeric lives. How could she find out, without fanning rumors already muttered in the streets of the Last Vigil? Would he prefer homemade treats when he is called to temporary stations at the Vigils around Corethas? Or, does the staff he surely has in his home take care of it? Should it truly matter? She is merely a visiting healer, and no doubt her heart is the only one that beats so quickly when they are together, and aches when they are not...
Her ears twitch at the sound of a knock. Alkaid glances at the nearest clock to check the time, curious as to who might be calling them at this hour. The most logical answer would be the Temple Knights requesting their aid once more. A sigh leaves the white mage before she soothes her robes and makes her way to the door. A hand settles on the handle and for a moment she dreads the idea of seeing a Knight at the other side of the door, having been sent to fetch the conjurers. Alkaid closes her eyes to push the exhaustion away from her person. Her shoulders square, and she opens the door. ]
Is there something I can do for... [ Alkaid's statement drifts off once she realizes who it is at the door. Her ears lift underneath her hood and she immediately feels the rush of red to her face. ] Ser Aymeric?