#askcam

In the depths of the Shroud sat a middle-aged gentleman. Even he,embellished in a very distinguished and – dare he say it,sophisticated – sense of style, couldn’t help but to admirethe way the sunlight seeped through the canopy of trees above andaround him, nor the delicate, distant howls and chirps of potentiallydangerous wildlife.

Hewas never one for nature in his youth. He recalled his adventureswith delight! Set, often enough, far above the forests andsongs of nature – which he deemed rightly so, often elevated farhigher than common rabble – much of his life was spent in thedroning, humming confines of an airship. And a beauty she was,indeed. The distinct memory of adrenaline coursed through his veinsjust as much as his mind. Boarding other airships, narrowly escapingseveral bullets and several more daggers… but, alas, he was far tooold for that now, and too refined for it besides.

Heshifted in his sitting position, sighing in contentment as a soft,warm breeze brushed along his skin and rustled his elaborate finery.Finery, he was quick to add, earned from a life of adventure and –

Snap.

Drawnfrom his self-admiration, the Midlander turned with startled eyes towitness a woman approaching with confident strides, crushing erranttwigs beneath her heel. Delightful,he thought. An audience to revel in my elegance.

“Whatho, madam!” he called out, waving in an overtly friendly andwelcoming gesture.

Thewoman drew closer, and the sight of her gave him pause. A heavy coatflowed along with her long steps, exposing the Highlander woman’sstrong forearms. On her face she wore no expression – a flat andmuted mien that quickly brought with it an unsettling atmosphere. Fora moment, he swore he could feel the wind grow colder, but brushed itaside as temperamental Shroud weather.

“Isay, I didn’t expect to see somebody out here!”

Wherehe thought she would stop, she kept going. Long strands of dreadedlocks, blonde and bright in the sunlight, bristled as the Highlanderlurched forward and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. In aninstant, he was lifted, his feet dangling. Despite the evident alarmin his voice, he enforced upon himself a calm expression.

“Nownow, there’s – you can take all of my gil, there’s no need to beviolent.”

“Tellme where she is.”

Thewoman’s voice instantly sent chills down his spine. Monotone, barrenof all inflection or accent – and immediately familiar.

“M-missBlacke, my, you’ve changed your hair! I d-dare say it suits you!”

Hefelt the woman’s fist tighten around the linen of his shirt.

“Surprise!”

Rona grinnedbroadly, offering her wife a few twirls for effect. For moons, theElezen had insisted the woman do something with her hair; anythingbesides the tangled mess of brown and gold it had become. Tel watchedthe long swathes of brown dance through the air as the Highlandermoved – it had been done up in what she knew to be a traditionallyElezen fashion. Beads decorated its curls and braids, all tuckedneatly and precisely into place. She reasoned Rona had gone to greatlengths, and more than likely, great expense, to comply to herwishes.

It more than made upfor their argument the previous night. Tel knew her wife’s hair wasprecious to her, even if she did not understand why. Getting thewoman to style or cut it in any fashion was a nightmare. Knowing Ronadid so freely just for her made the Elezen’s heart skip a beat.

“I dare say itsuits you, my love.”

“Tellme where she is.”

Theemotionless string of words cracked, and beneath them lay anundercurrent of venom. Pure, unbridled rage was what he knew of RonaBlacke, the Black Wolf – once boss. A boss he had, in a slightmisstep, betrayed.

“I-Ihonestly couldn’t say, my dear!”

Thefamiliar shape of a gun barrel pressed against his stomach.

“Tellme where she is.”

“H-honestly,you don’t mean to –“

Thegunshot shattered the peaceful silence, sending birds scattering in asky filling panic, drowning out the sophisticated man’s cry.

“Y-youshot me in the –”

“TELLME WHERE SHE IS.”

“Y-you’lllet me live if I do? Won’t you?”

Thewoman nodded, her golden eyes ablaze with something he dare not lookat for more than a passing second. Could he sell out his closest friend?

“She’swith the Garleans,” he whined, massaging the new hole in his thigh.“I-I don’t know where she’s based but she –”

Heyelped as he was dropped, hitting the twigs and grass of theclearing’s floor. He peered up, quite sure of his safety, to meet theend of the Highlander’s weapon. His eyes grew with fear, and he wasnot able to splutter out even one more word before she pulled thetrigger.

[hero] - Who is someone they look up to?

At the dim, half-litoak desk came a heaved sigh born of frustration. Its owner rested herhead in her hands with her elbows pressed down hard against the wood,searching the natural swirls and patterns of its surface. Whatevershe hoped to find in squinting at the polished wood was anybody’sguess; but, as she often did in times of duress, Camerin Gilheart lether mind wander into the far reaches of introspection.

Her journey began atthe feet of J'inarah Marad and J'kilid Tia. Perhaps that was notsurprising – at least, not to her – considering how often thepair of Miqo'te had drifted along her mindscape. J'inarah held manydetails and secrets about Camerin that the Highlander was anxious toshare; a hand, in a metaphorical game of cards, that would force heroff the table. She could only assume J'kilid was privy to her darkestsecrets, as well, though she held no quarrel with it – the marriedshould always be open and honest. She knew that more than anybody.

Her respect andadmiration for the couple grew by the day, but so did her jealousy.She saw in them everything she should still have, had her late wifenot been taken from her. It started a burn in her chest and a drop inher stomach which spread along her veins with frightening regularity.She feared the day such feelings would overwhelm her high esteem forthem, but waved it away with a silent scoff. She looked up to themmore than anybody, for now, and that was enough.

The Ala Mhigan’s guttwisted as she saw Thya Kahzuun, next. The Garlean was never far fromtrouble, it seemed, and Camerin was loathe to linger in thoughts ofher… not with what they always seemed to bring: uncertainty. Sherespected the woman for her strength and persistence in the face ofadversity and consistent interrogation, and while she longed toreconnect with her, she knew what it would bring. For better or forworse, the mask she donned, the identity of Camerin Gilheart, hadchanged. Thya was better off in the fringes of Camerin’s attention.But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look up to the woman.

The bright face ofZaoka Aloka waddled past her mind’s eye, then, smiling brightly atits vision. It tugged something deep in her being she could notdescribe. She had immeasurable respect for the Lalafell, but ifpressed, could not pinpoint why. Perhaps it was his endearingoptimism – she saw in him many things she wished she could be, whenall her pretence was stripped away from her. In a quiet moment ofirony, Camerin mused that she looked up to the doctor far more thanhe had to look up at her physically. Rarely did she find somebody soworthy of being selfless for. The Ala Mhigan made a mental note toconfide in him. Perhaps it was past time.

She leaned back in herchair and sighed. So many faces and people demanding her respect anddeserving of it, at that. And all of them she was so deeply jealousof.

Except, perhaps, RyderBailey.

[wish] - Three wishes they would make.

Camerin Gilheart did not like to dwell on wishes. In her youth, undera different name and a different light, she often peered up at thestars, dulled to their splendour just as she was dulled to everythingelse. Countless nights she spent, wishing on every tiny blink oflight that she would wake up whole, and normal. And every morning,the realisation set in that she never would. And though she wasincapable of feeling sorrow, it weighed heavy on her teenageshoulders, nonetheless.

Until her wish cametrue.

Tel was a spark ofcolour, pure and unbridled, on a canvas of the dullest hues of grey.She had changed Camerin’s entire worldview, shifting flowers frompointless decoration to vibrant, shared life, and pushing beauty intothe babbling brooks and rivers of the world. Suddenly, she began tofeel, genuinely, and honestly, beyond what her mask of false normalcysupplied. The stars stopped being little lights, and became somethingshe desired to pluck from the sky merely to see her beloved smile.

But now, nearing herthirties, she had stopped looking skyward. The blanket of glitteringdots held nothing but memories of hardship and loss for her now. Once more the world had been squashed flat, and muted. The colours ofthe world had been pulled into oblivion with the dying light of herwife’s eyes. Wishes became childish again, but despite theHighlander’s hesitance to dwell, every night was the same. Everynight, she held the locket around her neck, staring into the smilingface of her wife. Silently, or voiced, she always made the samewishes.

“I wish you werehere.”

She recalled the warmthof the woman – her smile, her skin, her presence. Her very companysoothed Camerin in ways she had not been soothed since. But she knewif her wish was granted, it would never be the same. Despite howdesperately she desired not to, she had changed. The world’s greatestmercy was that time never stopped, and no wounds could persist in theface of days, weeks, months and years.

“I wish I’d beenfaster.”

Betrayal stung Camerindeeply and she was familiar with it more than some. The lieutenantsin her Sky Pirate band had sold her, and her wife, out to theGarleans, in favour of a mere pardon and gil changing hands – andthough she raced to their home as fast as her legs could carry her,until her lungs burned to fire, she was too slow. The dying body herwife in her arms haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Thegentle scratch of her nails against her cheek, to which shedesperately re-enacted when in need of comfort… and the warmth ofblood being smeared across her nose, which she saw in everyreflection… they wounded her deeply, to her core, every time theyresurfaced.

“I wish I could moveon.”

The last wish alwaysbroke her defences; where in any other battle she could muteeverything, Tel could never be. The bittersweet words crashed inaround her, deafening her to the world, to the universe; how sheyearned to exist again, and love freely like she had so long ago,however fake and however stilted it was… but Tel was engrained inher very being, always simmering beneath the surface of her charming,smiling guise.

Camerin Gilheart didnot like to dwell on wishes.

Camerin/J’inarah:

Their first impression: “So she’s one’a m’new bosses, ‘eh? A’ight. C’mon, Cam. Don’tflirtdon’tflirtdon’tfli– damnit! I flirted!”

Their current impression: “Figures I’d ‘ave to let ‘er know everythin’ ‘ventually. Hopin’ she ain’t too pissed ‘bout it. Kept it all hush though. I respect ‘er. Ain’t nobody I’ve worked so willingly under.”

What they like the most about your muse: “'er bap– er, uh, she’s proper understandin’, ‘n loyal as all hells. Yeah, that.”

What they dislike the most about your muse: “That she’s married? I dunno. Can’t really think of anythin’ I dislike.”

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): Boss. Confidant.

A general opinion of their relationship: “She knows ‘ow I am underneath all’a this. I dunno ‘ow things are gonna be now, but I’m hopin’ she trusts me.”

If applicable, something they wish to reveal: “Seein’ her ‘n Kilid… makes me remember ‘ow I was with Tel. I ‘ope I’m like them, one day.”

Alley/J’inarah:

Their first impression: “Ooooh. She’s a pretty lady! I’s wonder why she’s got that red stuff on ‘er face.”

Their current impression: “She’s well nice ‘n she makes well good sammiches ‘n that, ‘n she let me sleep in a nice bed ‘n stuff.”

What they like the most about your muse: “'er sammiches!”

What they dislike the most about your muse: “She was talkin’ ‘bout baths ‘n that. GROSS.”

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): Mother figure.

A general opinion of their relationship: “I’s hopin’ she makes me more sammiches.”

If applicable, something they wish to reveal: “I’s wish she was my mum…”

Violenne/Symonne:

Their first impression: “Hm. Such confidence and grace. ‘tis clear I must be careful around this one. Calculating eyes are naught to be trifled with.”

Their current impression: “'tis beyond my ken what machinations Sym is a part of; her past remains shrouded to me, and ‘tis plain to mine eyes that she is not all she appears. Am I but a pawn in her games?”

What they like the most about your muse: “Her… her confidence. ‘tis evident; she is a woman who knows her goal and where her path must take her.”

What they dislike the most about your muse: “She has a tendency to say things… unbecoming of a woman.”

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): Friend, ally.

A general opinion of their relationship: “I know not what I am to her, be it a friend or pawn in games far beyond mine own understanding.”

Camerin/Ryder:

Their first impression: “’e’s kinda cute. Got that fragile look. Bet ‘e’d be good for throwin’ around…”

Their current impression: “’e’s like a brother to me. A lil’ brother. Annoyin’ ‘n all. But I wouldn’t give up on him for anythin’.”

What they like the most about your muse: “’e’s got this… weird kinda goofy charm, I ain’t able to describe it. I jus’ can’t stay mad at ‘im for long. Got a killer voice ‘n all.”

What they dislike the most about your muse: “’e’s a kid of assumptions, ‘specially when it comes to racials stereotypes.”

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): Best friend.

A general opinion of their relationship: “’onestly, I’d trust ‘im with anythin’. He’s always there f’me ‘n ‘as proven more than reliable, over ‘n over. I’m glad things panned out as they did, y’know?”

“Well….” Cam paused and tapped his lip with the tips of his fingers. “I guess I’ve never really had a dream job. I was just looking for a place to be accepted when I became a vigilante- even when I joined the Brotherhood that’s what I wanted. I never really thought I’d be anything past all of that.