Coeurl's Kiss

of fogs, ponds and cloudy days

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[The Palazzo Aldenard, Mist.]

Good day, lovely readers! It is daytime where you are, perhaps, yes? Or perhaps the stars have begun their slow scrawl across the darkened bowl of the heavens, the sun a memory to be gossiped about while Her Radiance is raising crops and crisping skins on the other side of our own star. Whatever light is creeping across your parquet floor, your larboard, your patch of forest, I hope to find you in good health and with a hankering to read about a most curious concert that took place at the Palazzo Aldenard’s Opera House a few days past.

This concert hall is well-known to many, but I confess, lovely readers, that it was this reporter’s first chance to visit the venerable venue for herself, and it did not disappoint. A crewmate of mine (ah yes, yours truly is a captain now, of her very own definitely-haunted ship; quite the tale of an unlikely inheritance, and utterly better-suited for another column entirely) and I took our seats, sharing uisghe and waiting for the show to begin. As this reporter is a long time fan of Savo’s (she is indirectly responsible for a prison sentence I served some years back, another story best shared over a plate of steak frites and a gallon of stout), I knew that her gnarled, underfed-despite-everyone’s-best-efforts paw brings a twist to every show, and inspires the audience to loosen up when confronted with the unexpected. Little did I know how much of a twist this show would wring itself into, like a wet rag squeezing water over still-smoldering embers! However, I am getting ahead of myself, lovelies. 

The evening began with a dueling duet; T’ahlia and D’ahlia! D’ahlia played classical piano with poise and elegance, fingers running over the keys nimbly. T’ahlia echoed and responded with her ceruleum guitar, sending reverbs into the rafters. Still, D’ahlia was dauntless, playing the act of straight man to the showy comedy of T’ahlia’s riffs. Both showcased skill and playfulness with ease, getting things off to a joyful start.

The duo was joined by Hani Dan’na, singing a song about lost relationships. Resigned, lovely lyrics left many an eye wet; surely, it was the profusion of springtime blossoms outside that caused such a thing. Surely, that.

Lionnellais Deveraux and Rythas Brynelle next took the stage, a pas de deux in lyrical form about looking at oneself in the looking glass and resolving to change. The two tall, lithe performers did, indeed, seem to be looking into a mirror as their eyes met and their melodic runs tumbled into harmonies. To this reporter, they seemed to encapsulate the desire to make today the first day of the rest of their lives—to use a quote oft-seen in cross-stitch on one’s grandmama’s wall—but were almost daring the other to be the first to change.

Aero, a new performer to this reporter and many others in the audience, was as forthright about being high on Shroud mushrooms as he was about body positivity; he performed entirely in the nude, and one was certainly larger than the other (pupils, I mean. Pupils!).  Savo provided riffs on her famed ten-stringed viol, and the pair brought levity to the stage. I do believe in a thing called love, even if it comes at the cost of Keepers of the Moon dragging you out into the woods and making you question all you’ve ever known. 

Zanin Briggs and Rythas continued in this vein with the next piece; it seems they, too, are reluctant-yet-indulgent caretakers of Savo and Fheyla. Family may make you question everything, dear readers, but if they lead you to great adventures, things like fleas, questionable manners, and spotty hygiene can be overlooked. 

A pair of mysterious Elezen women took the boards with a back-to-back set filled with as much fire as a bellyful of my late Papa’s famous uisghe. Injecting the room with a raw-hearted, toothy roar of lyrics meant to ignite the still-simmering resentment in Ishgard, these mysterious performers dressed to impress did just that! Yes, dear readers, although word out of those stony, snowcapped spires is that the Lord Commander has done his level best to close the gap between high and lowborn, it seems a thousand years of rigid social structures and war leave those still in the social depths wondering when their voices will really be heard. It was then when this reporter began to notice something of a theme throughout the night’s performances; unease, discontent, loss, building into…

FIRE! You read that right, faithful readers; a fire erupted backstage, and we were all summarily evacuated to the lawn for half a bell’s time. Take heart; the Palazzo’s staff were professional, efficient, and informative. I have now learned that if one must shout fire at a crowded theater, this is the theater in which to do so, lovelies. Once the blaze was contained, the show did indeed go on; and that, I believe, is my quota of cliched phrases for this article.

Once we had all filed back in—neatly and in single file, I assure you—Lionnellais and Rythas welcomed the audience back with a jaunty tune with the refrain “Under Censure”. This reporter must confess that the untimely fire combined with the lyrics that speak of restraints fraying under pressure had her wondering a great many things. Still, just as the show went on, so, too, must this article. 

T’ahlia returned to the stage with an acoustic guitar, and was joined by Hesper of Trinity. The pair sang a soulful duet about an “army of two” that would stand against all odds and defy the world. Your faithful reporter was very much lost in her own thoughts and suppositions, but was briefly brought back to attention by the songstress Sif, who joined T’ahlia for the next piece. This one spoke of T’ahlia’s conflicted feelings of yearning and betrayal directed at her mother, a woman of the Shroud who did her best for the young Miqo’te and yet left her wanting. The duo of Sif and T’ahlia singing call-and-response that melded into soulful, wistful harmonies drew the audience in and included us in such tender, bittersweet recollections.

As their last chords were still lingering like dark tea on the sides of the tongue, we were all drawn to our feet by an upbeat, glittering tune about calling on shinobi when in need! True to the legacy of those infamous assassins, the stage effects were superb; one might even believe that said shinobi were hiding in plain sight, deploying mudra and shadow-smoke to great effect amongst the waving glow wands of the enthused crowd. This reporter could not help but muse over how some of the other performers might, indeed, be inspired to hire a shinobi for their current troubles that simmered along the floorboards along with the occasional puff of singed scenery.

T’ahlia and Dane Escherra brought us all back to those melancholy undercurrents, with the latter offering soulful vocals recounting being a wartime prostitute. They fight like men, die like boys, and the women are expected to pretend it doesn’t affect them, offer themselves up as trophies. It was a simple yet poignant view into a world that many would rather pretend does not exist; this reporter, for one, was more interested in the stories of these women than the wars that raged around them.

Oh, dear readers, how I do eat up the ilms of column space on this one! The final two acts followed the evening’s emotional hills and vales, leaving us on a hill of humor. Zeraia Reynard crooned and Savo clawed tunes about male Seekers of the Sun, and…well, the lyrics are not entirely fit for print, but in the interest of public health (and allowing for poetic embellishment), this reporter must firmly suggest that all those who have enjoyed sexual relations with male Seekers of the Sun be tested for diseases at your local chirurgeon. E’rin Rae’s finale piece, in which she joined the dogpile (catpile) upon male Seekers, was a humorous lament about how they all seem to prefer the same sex, and how she has resigned herself to this fact. 

Though this sennight’s issue has been dedicated to my personal review of this revue, I must let you all in on a little secret; the fire that occurred backstage is quite suspicious, and this reporter will be writing another article or two as she investigates it. In the next sennight’s issue, please look forward to a collection of thoughts, statements, and observations by those that attended the show. In the meantime, I wish you all health and happiness, and would highly recommend the Palazzo Aldenard for its fine facility and superb entertainers.

Song and Scandal,

Idanwyn Lluanswys

Harbor Herald Food and Lifestyle Columnist

Basics –––– ✢

▌NICKNAMES: Rin

▌AGE: 28 or so

▌RACE: Au Ra - Xaela

▌GENDER: Female

▌SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

▌MARITAL STATUS: Single. 

▌SERVER: Balmung - Crystal Data Center

Physical Appearance –––– ♤

▌HAIR: Rose colored pink, reaching down to around her chest. Usually worn up these days

▌EYES: Lilac, with violet limbal rings

▌HEIGHT: 4 fulm, 10 ilms

▌BUILD: Lean. Toned enough to maintain her dexterity.

▌DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Rinalys has a number of scars along her back in particular, remnants of her time in servitude. As of late, she has become less hesitant to show them, but will not quickly answer questions about them unless she trusts a person. The palm of her left hand is also heavily scarred, branded and cut. Each wound on her has a story, and many of them are, in fact, linked ot her past.

▌COMMON ACCESSORIES: Her left hand will always be gloved.

Personal –––– ♢

▌PROFESSION: Member of the Midnight Pearl, Part-time Associate of Priarch Enterprises. Formerly a mercenary

▌HOBBIES: Gardening. People watching. Information seeking. Social drinking.  

▌LANGUAGES: Eorzea Common, Xaelan

▌RESIDENCE:  Sealight Estate, though she also has a small home of her own in the Mist.

▌BIRTHPLACE: The Azim Steppe

▌RELIGION: She has a very basic belief in Azim and Nhaama. Mostly learned through childhood stories. However she’s lived in Eorzea longer than the steppe so that’s minimal at best.

▌FEARS: Being Abandoned. Feeling helpless. Death (at least a little). The past catching up with her. Abnormally large insects that should be set on fire ASAP.

Relationships –––– ♡

▌SPOUSE: None.

▌CHILDREN: None.

▌PARENTS: They exist, technically. She hasn’t been with them for most of her life, however. Their whereabouts are currently unknown, but presumed to still be the Steppe.

▌SIBLINGS: None that she’s aware of

▌OTHER RELATIVES: None.

Traits –––– ♧

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

Vices / Flaws –––– ♠

▌SMOKING: never / sometimes (very rare) / frequently / to excess.

▌DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

▌ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

▌OTHER FLAWS: Stubborn to a fault. Can be hotheaded under the right circumstances. Frequently short on gil for basic necessities. Illiterate. Is also a little bit of a troublemaker when the mood arises.

Possible Hooks –––– ♦

The Midnight Pearl - Saviors from hard times of her own, she once sought sanctuary within their walls. In time and in getting to know the others she would join their ranks herself, seeking to grow and become something more. As such she can often be seen in events that they may hold, or other business they conduct.

Priarch Enterprises - At best she’s employed in Edarien’s care part time, coming and going as her whims see fit. Anyone in contact with the company has likely heard mention of Rin in passing. Maybe a story or two about her temper and something she might have beheaded.

Taverns - She’s a bit notorious for being at the bar a little frequently. Rinalys has her fair share of tabs racked up, but finds it a good place to gather information. Of course the fun that comes from mingling there is important too.

The Wandering Kind - Despite a home of her own these days, this girl is one who can’t seem to stay in one locale for too long, which means that she might just end up in your neighborhood. How long she stays is another matter.

What I’m looking for –––– ♥

Mostly, to expand the number of contacts that I have and open up doors for possible interactions outside of my current ones. I tend to keep to myself and am hoping to change that even a little. IC or OOC alike.

New friends, possibly ships, I’m pretty open to stuff admittedly. Anything deep requires familiarity and communication before I’m likely to go with it. I’ve been burned at least a couple times. 

I’m all for pre-established relationships as well or establishing a job network for her. In the past she’s been a mercenary as well as a member of the Rogue’s guild, beyond being a former slave. There’s a large amount of wiggle room in it too given her tendency to not stick to one place. 

Out of Character –––– ♣

I get anxious. This can ease up once I’ve gotten to know a person. Groups/Events can take a lot of working up to go to, however. I’ve been better about it recently. Usually.

I also am very prone to getting distracted by things and can easily throw myself into something that wasn’t what I intended to do for hours on end.

My work schedule might make it a bit difficult for consistent RP. I tend to be scheduled where I’m on for 7 days, and then off the next 7 for ten hour shifts at a go. So patience is a must if you do want to make plans.

Most RP will generally be in game or on Discord, if it happens.

Contact Information –––– ✰

Tumblr - I’m always free to field asks or messages here. Headcanons, asks, starters are all things I adore as well if wanting to keep it casual.

Discord - On request

If she was honest, it was always there. The pressing doubt and fear that had caged her heart since the moment she’d woken again in her own skin and felt weakness and pain. There was nothing that they could have done to heal her heart and mind but be themselves, and though she had never told them how much it had mattered that pain seemed to fade and the ache seemed to ease until laughter was more prevalent than tears, nor could she tell them that there was no stopping the gnawing feeling that everything they’d already experienced was just the beginning.

… and she had tried so very hard for that moment to be the end. For that last smile to secure every dream in place and make certain that they wanted for nothing, but most of all, that they would always be safe from the nightmare that had spread through her childhood and followed her like a wolf through the trees as she’d aged and tried to break free from the shackles of her past.