#roov

Rubh’a Ojibe

The Basics ––– –

Age: 27

Birthday: 5th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon

Race: Miqo’te (Keeper of the Moon)

Gender: Male (he/him)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Marital Status: Bonded

Server: Mateus (Crystal)

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Naturally cool grey, fading into white at certain points

Eyes: Seafoam green

Height: Not much over 5 fulms

Build: Toned and muscled considering his previous vocation of sailor, with a build more for stamina than strength

Distinguishing Marks: A poorly-healed scar across the bridge of his nose; ear piercings that don’t bear any jewelry

Common Accessories: A pair of rough-looking bone beads tied into his hair

Personal ––– –

Profession: Ex-sailor, current trash goblin cat man (aka jack-o’-all-trades)

Hobbies: Star-gazing, weaving & fibre-arts, games of chance, chocobo-racing & husbandry

Languages: Common Eorzean (fluent), Xaelic (learning)

Residence: One fixed residence (Shirogane w11, p36), but lives with his herdsman husband’s family in the Steppes. Still a frequent wanderer.

Birthplace: The Black Shroud

Religion: None

Patron Deity: Menphina the Lover (somewhat devout)

Fears: Being alone, dead quiet.

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Khaidai Ojibe

Children: None

Parents: Rubh (mother); Siobh (mother); unknown father

Siblings: A lot. Four brothers (three living however, including his identical twin) and ten sisters. His mothers take in a lot of wayward strays.

Other Relatives: Khai’s immediate and extended family. There aren’t many, but quickly welcomed him into the fold.

Pets: Kerlew, his chocobo, would hardly be considered a pet to him...but the currently unnamed frilled lizard he’s taken a shine to would be.

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Not currently Drugs: Not currently Alcohol: Occasional, not (usually) to excess

RP Hooks ––– –

Sailing • Rubh’a served on a privateering vessel roughly a decade before current events. The sea is very much in his blood, and those of his ilk may find kinship with him. Know any shanties? He’d love to learn them!

Fortune-telling • While it’s not something he does ‘professionally’ (tossing down a blanket and firing off a reading or two for some pocket-change isn’t beyond him, though) it’s something that’s brought him peace during a difficult time in his life. He enjoys encounters with other fortune-tellers, especially those that don’t favour the cards like he does.

Fishing • Cat man catch fish; cat man eat fish; cat man like fish. Roov loves fishing, and will always jump at the chance to meet another fishing buddy.

Weaving / fibre-arts • As the eldest of his mothers’ many children, Roov has long since been accustomed to general mending and sewing, which eventually developed into something more keen. He favours making sturdy, bright fabrics of wool, and embroidery. He’ll always take the opportunity to learn from another weaver, if the chance crops up.

Contact Information  ––– –

Warm.

Scales pressing against his face, sure to leave creases. No matter. He curled up more tightly against his two sources of warmth, body and blanket, and waited for the night to end.

~ ~ ~

It was still dark the next time Rubh’a awoke, but he knew there’d be no drifting off this time. It was time to get up and face the day, as disgruntled as the idea made him. (He was too much for the night, even if it had been some years since he last used his star globe.) Hot, gritty coffee, where it always was on the side-table, and Roov took a grateful swig. Sugary, still no milk. It would do.

Khaidai was already out, and Roov took his time over his coffee. It was going to be a cold day if the stack of peat next to the woodstove was anything to go by -- Khai always was on top of such things. It had been years, but the miqo’te was still getting accustomed to life, well...slowing down. His adopted life on the Steppes gave him the best of both worlds; a shared home to call his own, and the perfect lifestyle to nurture his ever-present wanderlust.

He’d learned to move with the herds that they now kept. Just sheep for the time being, but he’d noticed Khai eying up some sort of odd, small deer the last time they’d been in the market. The livestock handler was touting their stockiness in rougher weather, claiming they treated winter like it was no more than a refreshing breeze, and that their migration patterns were solid and routine. Khai had given a small nod at this, before inevitably turning back to the sheep pen.

They’d refreshed their flock with some new blood, and moved the camp to better grazing pasture on the Sea of Blades. Khai’s siblings kept to the fringes of their main camp most days, hunting and fishing on their own and returning to sleep. They shared their evening meal together, usually in companionable silence, before returning to their various chores before tucking in for the night.

Roov wished he could say the same. He simply couldn’t keep up with his habits of his younger days, and had to put aside the long-drawn nights for fleeting glimpses of faint stars every morning. He still kept his notes, and still read the arcanum when he could, but hadn’t used his globe for a proper reading in years. It was tucked away in their trunk, wrapped carefully in lamb-leather and stored in a box that Khai had meticulously carved for it. His notes, at least, he could keep up with, trading snippets of information whenever they passed near a settlement or crossed paths with a fellow astrologian during their wanderings. It was enough for him.

As usual, he avoided the dregs, rinsing his kuksa with a swill of water and tossing it out the front of the yurt. He tugged the furred neckline of his robes more closely about himself, hugging his middle and trying to stave off the shivers as he stepped out himself. It was cold, yes, but clear and heavy with dew. The odd few stars still blinked overhead despite the gauzy glow of the sun over the eastern hills. Khai stood, sentinel-like in the dark, watching over the gently shifting shapes of sheep, his ever-present sword at his hip.

“Morning,” Roov mumbled as he closed the distance between them, placing a hand on the small of Khai’s back. “Going to be a nice one today.”

“Cold, though.” Khai leaned against him, just for a moment. “We’ll need to watch the lambs.”

“I’ll need to watch the lambs you mean, while you go gallivanting off chasing wolves again.”

“Can’t have them wolfing down any of the babies.”

Roov rolled his eyes. “I shan’t dignify that with a response. You can do better than that.”

The tall Xaela flexed his shoulders, wincing as his back cracked. “It’s early yet.”

They fell silent, watching as the sheep began to stir with the warmth of the sun now creeping over the plains. Khai would stand guard until the flock were grazing on their own, ensuring that each was healthy and upright. Roov craved more of their cheap coffee; he unhooked Khai’s kuksa from his belt, taking them both to the ever-present pot on the stove, and dipped them full.

“Here.” Khai’s wooden cup was more of a bowl in Roov’s hands. “Let’s get the nicer stuff when we can.”

“Have Rubh’to bring some up.”

“Like hell he’ll ever find the camp with us always moving around,” Roov scoffed, sipping at his scalding coffee. “Anyway, that wouldn’t be wise. He made the mistake of flirting with some Dotharli last time he tried to find us. He’s still lamenting the notch in his ear.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t lose more.”

“We’re quick when we want to be, even with no trees around,” Roov grumbled under his breath. “Maybe Vuti will bring some. She likes it out here.”

“Mm.” Khai finished off the rest of his beverage in one large swig, tucking his kuksa back in its place. “Let’s get to work.”