Street Fight
A street fight broke out just outside the Quicksand; a Limsan knife fighter and an Ul'dahian pugilist exchanged flurries of fists and blades. They clearly weren't drunk. Sephira watched the fight from the side of the street with a newly made associate.
"Someone should alert the Brass Blades," Sephira said.
"Someone really should," Rene Pascal said.
Neither of them took their eyes off the fight. Neither of them moved. The street was empty of Brass Blades. There were a few other onlookers. They didn’t move either.
"And I left my grimoire in my inn room," Rene said. The lalafell patted the hip where the book would have otherwise occupied.
"I could always intervene," Sephira said. She motioned back to the bow slung over her shoulder. It was an Ishgardian piece, fully mechanical for maximized draw strength with minimal effort. It was wholly metal and came completely with a scope for finer aiming. Sephira had been looking for an excuse to use it.
"Twelve forfend, Sephira," Rene said, her mouth agape. "I meant to use healing geometries!"
Sephira stared at the lalafell and realized it was concern that rung in the scholar’s words. Sephira tried to speak, but never before did her own voice sound so wrong in her own ears.
