heroic.

@domandaughter

every cell within Maraqai’s body seems to buzz with nervousness. brows furrowed, light eyes dart to and fro, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells of a new, foreign land. had he made the conscious decision to travel here? he cannot quite remember. all he knows is that he’d had an audience with someone and heard words (some of which he did not even know the meaning of) that he wasn’t all too inclined to believe.

now, as he paced the streets, tail swinging behind him slightly faster than it’s normal rhythmic swaying, he prayed for something, anything familiar. he so desperately wanted to calm down, needed to–

“…?”

there, a slight ways away… was that a miqo’te? although rare upon the Steppe, Maraqai had encountered many on his travels, and the tell-tale ears, tail, and facial markings all but confirmed it. relief began to wash over him for a moment, before he realized he now needed to approach without spooking them.

as he steps closer, Maraqai lifts a hand in greeting and smiles, though the only sign of this is the crinkle of his eyes above his mask. it seems he’s trying to not be imposing, which is slightly comical, due to his large size.

swish, swish, swish. the inky brush of the miqo’te’s tail flicks back and forth as the girl herself stands frozen. her eyes are wide, pupils blown out till all the red iris seems swallowed by captivated black. a miqo’te is nothing like a common housecat, of course. even someone like ishta would be offended if anyone made the comparison.

but even the most mature and refined miqo’te couldn’t possibly resist the all saints wake decoration that’s caught her eye--a collection of fake spiders, dangling from strings tied to a stall’s awning. basic public decency is the only thing keeping her from leaping at the things in front of god and everyone.

this would all be fine if not for the fact that her attention being entirely focused on a bunch of plastic arachnids means she doesn’t notice the towering auri until he lifts his hand to say hello. the terror that seizes her is immediate and powerful. her ears go back flat and her tail puffs out like a thundercloud. there’s a show of fangs, and an extremely catlike hiss that she’ll deny later.

aaaand then she sees the smile on his face and suddenly everything is okay again.

“oh, jeez, hi! um--hi! how long have you been there? you’re okay, right? did i scare you too? oh, goodness.” ishta reaches up to manually tweak her ears upright, an embarrassed blush spreading across her face. “hi! welcome! are you new? i am! i’ve only been here for, um... just a few days!”

It’s been a long few days, and while Lady feels like she’s made a good head start, there’s still so  much she has left to learn about this place. It’s got modern tech, despite what she would consider medieval cultures. and she’s grateful to still have a phone - even if she doesn’t have any of her guns. She’s presently on the hunt for a gun shop, or even a weapons store in general when she happens across a girl who seems… stuck.

  “Hey there,” she starts with a gentle tone, doing her best to avoid being potentially startling, and offers a friendly wave. “Are you okay? Lost, maybe?” Her stance is tense, but it isn’t until Lady gets closer that she notices those watery eyes. Immediately her shoulders slump in empathy as her expression shifts from friendly to mild concern. “Can I help at all?”

there’s a brief moment where she really, really has to fight the scraps of fight-or-flight instinct that she hasn’t managed to chase away over the years; unfamiliar situation plus unfamiliar person plus entirely unexpected compassion has her all tensed up and ready to run. or ready to cry; whichever happens first. “i...”

oh, jeez. this is hard. this is really hard. “i, sorry, um.” okay. deep breaths, ishta. she scrunches up her face, puffs out her chest with the force of the inhale and then almost doubles over on the exhale, trying to force the tension out of her body (to no avail). come on, come on. “i just... where am i? what, um... what’s going on?”

this place is weird--weird, weird, weird, and she knows all about weird places from all the things she’s seen and stories she’s heard. this is right up there for sure. so it’s not anywhere near home; ‘vraelgard’ isn’t a name she heard in her lessons (even the ones she actually paid attention to). there are hyur as far as the eye can see, but not the type she’s used to, and there certainly aren’t any other...

miqo’te...?

oh, yes, this is better! this is familiar ground! sure, the being-on-fire thing isn’t a normal miqo’te trait, but honestly--she’s seen stranger things, and she’s not one to judge. the stranger’s ears and tail are enough for her to decide that this is much more familiar territory, and she’s not going to let the opportunity slip by!

so. she’s done this before. how many times has it been now? she’ll say ‘oh, i remember being there!’ and someone will give her a pitying look and she’ll know straight away that she got it wrong, again, because her own mind is a yawning chasm, and... yeah.

except it’s always in the past, because that’s how memory works. and this is... this is now, obviously. it’s happening now. so. so... what? so what’s next? ask someone for help, right? except what if she’s in hostile territory, and that’ll get her killed? what if this is some kind of--some kind of weird garlean trap?

so she can’t ask anyone anything. but she doesn’t know what to do. but she has to know what to do if she wants to be properly heroic. heroes can figure out anything, right? but what if--

consider this also a starter call! no cap for now, but i might take my time getting them out just so i can ease myself into the process.