#reticent

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan – Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.

If nature will not tell the tale Jehovah told to her Can human nature not survive Without a listener?

Admonished by her buckled lips Let every babbler be The only secret people keep Is Immortality.

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The reticent volcano keeps (1896)

Emily Dickinson 1830-1886

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RETICENT CASEY OMGAAA!!! i love this guy so much.

As soon as I saw this reel I thought of them

She flipped a card over. King of Hearts.

“Ah. So there's a man who has been occupying your thoughts lately.”

It was important to deliver her readings more in statements than questions. Confidence was the key to convince people to pay you. That was rule number one in these kinds of games.

The woman on the other side of the cards didn't react. She didn't agree. She didn't disagree. She simply stared at the revealed card.

Ok.

Malika gave the woman space to think about it before adding, “It's important that I mention here that this does not necessarily mean you've been thinking about him romantically. The hearts represent depth of feeling and affection, but not necessarily a desire to be romantic. It could be a father figure, a mentor, or even a co-worker you've been worrying about.”

Again, no rising intonation. 

And, again, no response.

Malika tilted her head slightly to get a better look at the midlander woman’s face as she peered down, unblinkingly and wordlessly at the card. Nothing. Blank.

“Let's turn over the next card then,” she said and bit back the urge to nervously clear her throat. No nervousness here! Only sport!

She turned the card over to the 9 of hearts.

“Ah,” she said, “More hearts. Now why do you think that'd be, hmm?”

The first rule of the game was: Don't ask questions, make statements.

The second rule was: Fuck it, break the rules when you need to. In this case, she hoped asking for a response would make her sound like a patient teacher allowing her student to draw her own conclusion.

“Dunno,” the midlander answered and shrugged. And that was it. Nothing. 

Malika was quickly losing her patience. The way this woman stared at the cards you'd think she was watching paint dry on a wall!

"Sir?"

Valens rem Varro did not look up from his paperwork. "What."

"You have a delivery, sir."

"Fine. Leave it."

"The courier has very specific instructions to deliver it to you in person... sir."

"Fine, fine. Show them in."

Valens frowned, looking up, as the soldier saluted him, and disappeared out the door. He reappeared a moment later, a small Miqo'te woman following behind him.

Well, Miqo'te-looking thing, anyroad.

Valens knew what it was, and he smiled broadly to himself. Maybe the officer he had sent over on exchange had been far more successful than he had assumed he would be. Maybe said officer had managed to get the Frumentarium to finally see the light and decide to turn over their little toy to proper magitek engineers who would truly be able to finally make maximum use of the thing.

Not bad, for a man who was just supposed to try to sneak a few secrets out from under their nose while forwarding their work.

In his mind's eye, he could already see the grand strides his own magitek projects could undergo after fully examining the thing. A few days of destructive testing, perhaps. Pull its myomar fibers apart, rebraid them. Stress tests, impact testing, ductile and brittle failure tests. The thing supposedly had an impressive capacity for self repair and regeneration. He could do so many tests finding those limits, letting it return to baseline, then pulling it apart again. And then the material science data he could get by going right past those limits, why, he wasn't sure he'd been this excited since he was a teenager.

But, he was getting ahead of himself. He watched as the project 'Nyx' prototype walked in, and presented him with a folder. The soldier who had brought her in saluted, and excused himself. Valens paid him no mind as he took the folder, recognizing the type immediately.

A Frumentarium report, written by Aemilia sas Valentina herself. Nominally the woman in charge of the Nyx project, but she had temporarily turned it over to Semon while she visited the capital with her pet head scientist. All part of the officer exchange.

Interesting. It was a report on the officer he had sent over, Semon oen Moruntarium. Interesting. Perhaps they just wanted him to know what Semon had been up to, though he wondered why they hadn't just let the man make the report himself.

He leafed through the first few couple of pages. He was pleased at what he read. Semon had been allowed to be temporarily in charge of the Nyx project, as agreed, and he had used his authority to perform a few tests of the kind Valens himself wanted to perform. Strangely, though, the results had been redacted. Well, no matter. He'd have to give the man credit for trying.

On the next few pages, another report. Semon had used Nyx as part of a mission to foment a little dissent in one of the colonies. A simple in and out job. Apparently he had modified the original mission profile which was meant to just be simple observation, and almost caused a rebellion.

Valens remembered talking to Semon about such things, about how Semon felt that the best way to bring a populace to heel was to drive them to open defiance, so as to justify the eventual crackdown. That way, there would always be a few of the savages who would blame their would-be revolters for their lot in life, for daring to step out of line. Bold. Valens himself preferred more direct methods, but he had to admire Semon's initiative in carrying out his own vision.

Aemilia took a somewhat dimmer view of the situation, judging from the language she was using. Valens chuckled to himself. Well, observation, dissent, whatever, it all forwarded the goals of the Empire, and as far as he was concerned, all was well that ended well. Having to redirect a few units to crack a few savage skulls was hardly any cost at all in the grand scheme of things, and Semon now had some practice at doing that sort of thing. Good for him. Valens continued on.

The next part was just a note on an injury the man had maintained attempting to fight Nyx. Valens glanced up at Nyx at that part, but it was staring off into nowhere, same as it always was. He harrumphed, and returned his attention back to the report. Semon had apparently wished to test its combat capabilities, and had overrode one of the scientist's recommendations to impose certain limits. He had been armed and armored, Nyx had been neither, and it had taken no damage while breaking his arm.

Well, fine. He would have to talk to Semon about that one. There were reasons he wanted to study Nyx, and it was known to be a more than capable combatant.

He turned to the last section.

Here, he slowed, reading carefully.

Semon had apparently taken some materials out of the Nyx project building. A major breach of confidentiality. Valens had no idea what the files were, as that information had been redacted, but there was a note of plans to place a rebuke in Semon's file.

Said rebuke would not be coming. The Frumentarium had fortunately managed to recover the files.

From his corpse.

Valens studied the last page of the report very carefully. It was a picture of Semon, on an empty train car. Unquestionably on his way back to Valens' castrum, in fact, judging from the timestamps that Aemilia had carefully placed on each of the lithographs. He had been stabbed straight through the head, apparently, by a Mark 8 type 'S' gunblade.

He recognized the type. As a magitek engineer, he was intimately familiar with a fair amount of the Empire's armaments, and that was one in particular was an uncommon one.

Generally it was issued to, and only used by, Frumentarium agents, in fact.

Valen's gaze drifted up to Nyx's hip, and his lips thinned.

Nyx noticed, and spoke the only words it had said so far.

"Aemilia sas Valentina sends her regrets."

Valens looked back down at the report. Investigation into the death was ongoing. But apparently the current best guess was that Semon had met his demise at the hands of a disgruntled former agent who perhaps had some grudge against him, of a personal nature.

He closed the report, and set it down, and looked at Nyx.

"Dismissed," he said brusquely, though he hated that even he could hear the slightest unsteadiness in his voice. Nyx, without another word, turned and left.

Prompt: Reticent

It had been a while since Rhyle had visited Gridania, and as he stepped in through the gates, a familiar feeling of unease swept over him. It wasn’t as if he feared anyone here–not anymore, after having lived in the Shroud for some time–but rather that the things he did know about the place irked him more than they probably should. The prejudice here showed in the way its citizens regarded those of a certain persuasion, and though he was neither a forest-dwelling Mystel or the type of Elf known as a Duskwight, he was an outsider all the same, and that came with a fair few odd looks as he sidled down the path toward the Lancer’s guild.

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Haurchefant Greystone, Hemlocke

Synopsis: Even drunk off his arse, Hemlocke attempts to provide helpful advice to his friend.

Setting: Coerthas, Camp Dragonhead.

Warning for adult situations and suggestive themes.

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The clash of steel against steel rang out whenever the curved edge of a worn-down scythe hit against shield blow by blow in perfect succession. With a deep grunt leaving him, Seiro whirled the long rod of the scythe around like it weighed nothing at all, flinging himself into the air with his long black scaly tail waving behind him, leaving the soft chime of the trinkets that adorned such in its wake.

His eyes blazed with a heated excitement, grinning wildly, “Try to dodge this!” As surely as he sought to bring down the blade upon his opponent from the air, the shining sword lifted upward to meet him once against with the momentum flinging him back easily. He agilely landed on the ground of the command room with a heavy huff, causing the nearby tables and chairs to rattle as he did so, all due in part to the fall.

His chest rose and fell wildly to his breathes, chest straining against the thick black leather straps that bound him when he lifted his two-toned eyes to the man he’d been clashing with. After sheathing his sword, Haurchefant made no hesitation to come join him with a few steady claps of his hands and lovely blue eyes that shared the same excitement as he, “You never cease to amaze me, Seiro. Long have I wished to cross blades with you. Our styles as different as they are match perfectly with one another, no?” He was intent on holding the gaze, but Seiro’s own eventually broke away to the sight of Hemlocke sitting nearby at a table alone with a mug between in his slender hands.

The smirk on Hemlocke’s features was much like that of a cheshire cat and crimson eyes glittered mischievously when he stared at the pair of them. Seiro fought hard to keep a reticent expression, giving small incline of his head in gratitude towards Haurchefant even if he dares not to fully look his way, “It was an honor to do so. Your movements hold a graceful elegance I have not seen in many moons from another warrior.” With that, he spun on his heels to turn away back to join Hemlocke in the drinking festivities, but found a gloved hand grasping at his own to stop him, “Will you not join me in my chambers tonight? It can get very cold by oneself. I can make a cup of hot chocolate for the both of us.”

The sudden touch caught Seiro entirely off guard when he paused in his step in time to catch himself from stumbling. The Xaela could hardly register a thought for a few moments before he found himself bumbling a series of small nods, his rough hand curling to squeeze lightly, “Yes- the night is still young. Why not...before sleep, yes...? Right...I should go and check on my companions before this.” Every word spoken with a gruff awkward note before he let go, looking all but ready to rush back to the table before Haurchefant headed off looking positively satisfied.

With a heavy swallow back and looking much like he may be sick, Seiro took a heavy seat beside Hemlocke and skipped his mug entirely to go straight away to take a few long gulps back from a fresh bottle of ale nearest to him. The hunter’s tail twitched in agitation behind him. Meanwhile, Hemlocke took no time at all to nudge his friend meaningfully with an elbow and the smug smirk still plastered to his features, “Well, well~ I daresay there is going to be a lot more shared tonight than a cup of hot chocolate.”

“H-hey! Keep it down. I think- We head north tonight. Right now, even, we gather our companions and go north…”

Slender brows furrowing together, Hemlocke’s mouth parted in shock to hear Seiro’s sudden request to leave, “What?!...Are you really going to leave him there waiting without a word? Come now, there is no reason to be so nervous. Unless…are you a virgin?” The dark haired elezen gave him a once over in pure disbelief in this when Seiro looked aghast and like he might smack Hemlocke at any moment to the question. The liquid in the bottle of ale was disappearing at a steadily rapid pace, “No, of course not! It has been a long time though… And we are so vastly different from one another.” He kept his deep tone in a whisper, “Should I… walk in and tell him I wish to lie together?”

“Are you serious, Seiro? You need to, you know…build up the tension a little before you get to that. Look here, love~” Amidst his chuckles, Hemlocke’s words were a little slurred no doubt feeling the affects of the many drinks he had had. It did not stop him from bringing a hand to the buttons of his own shirt to undo one by one at the top and trace his fingertips along the length of his neck to the bare hint of his chest shown with a teasing slowness.

His ruby eyes grew half lidded gleaming at their depths with a mixture of pure heat and mischief, framed by thick black lashes with an enticing smile painted across his full lips, “’Oh my dear, Ser Haurchefant, let us skip the hot chocolate and jump right back into talk of our blades crossing again ~…’” His voice changed to a low and deep timbre of a rumble that eerily matched the hunter’s own. With a waggle to his brows, Hemlocke burst out into a fit of laughter after all the seriousness and began to slouch over on the table.

Thinking only of his current dilemma, Seiro blinked a little and peered down with his thick fingers feeling at his neck a little with a soft grunt of uneasiness, “…But I wear no shirt. How should I do this…? Do I move my hand like this?” His fingers curled in a bit to grip tightly at his own neck, giving off more of an appearance of choking himself while he rapidly batted his eyelashes at Hemlocke in his attempt to look appealing, “Hahahah! Well, admittedly, I have heard some are into that...you know what. Never mind you that. Let us focus on the basics. You should at least show off some of the goods~”

“Absolutely not!” As much as he weakly tried to swat his clumsy hands away, it didn’t keep Hemlocke from reaching over to adjust the tightly fitted straps a little to make the appearance of Seiro’s muscular pecs underneath to bulge a little more at the top, “Now, there you are. Run along and have a lovely night, my friend. Tis…very well deserved. I think I may…rest my head here just a moment…”

When you look at me with a smile, I feel stronger

The fireworks popped and sparkled against a clear night sky. Kubo Urabe stepped his long legs over stonewalls, settling to sit. He twisted at his waist, picking up at her waist his second eldest daughter to sit with him on the wall over looking the beaches. With a great view of the sky, it was a semi annual trip to Limsa Lominsa to enjoy Moonfire Faire festivities.