Post by zeekayl on Oct 30, 2011 17:20:41 GMT -5
Damn this heat.
Angelico was, in one word, uncomfortable. His calm features didn’t betray it, but he was irritable and eager to leave this city. Not that he didn’t like it--the architecture was beautiful, and the people and culture even more so--he just hated this dry heat. He couldn’t breathe. And when he could, it brought about a round of coughs that took a while to get over. At least he hadn’t brought up any blood over the past few days. That was good, wasn’t it?
…Or was it bad?
Well, unless he found that sage, Old Dalan, it wasn’t going to matter. He had heard about the man, about his knowledge, and thought to seek him out. However, he didn’t know where lowtown was within Rabanastre, let alone where to find the man once he got there. That was proving to be a challenge, and it wasn’t one Angelico wanted to spend too much time on. And he didn’t want to ask any of the citizens--many of them were still sore against Archadians, and the last thing he wanted was a conflict.
He wanted to ask Old Dalan what he knew and get out of this blasted desert.
Perhaps what he needed was a guide. There was no better place to find one than a bar, and he had heard of a particularly famous one here in the city called The Sandsea. Perhaps there he could find a good guide for a few gil, or at the very least a map that was legible and comprehensible. If nothing else, he could get out of the sun for an hour or so.
…He could use a drink anyway.
With a soft sigh, the thin Archadian pushed through the crowds, examining the signs and listening for chatter about said bar. He circled around Rabanastre a few times, his frustration growing, until finally he found his haven and bustled inside. The smell that greeted him was lovely, and for a moment he allowed himself to relax before making his way to an empty table.
Now…who to ask…?
His piercing violet eyes scanned the room, and absently he adjusted the length of his ponytail so that it flowed over one shoulder. He liked his hair long, it suited him, but now he knew why even most of the women of this city wore their hair short or up. That being stated, Angelico stuck out in Rabanastre like a moogle in a flock of cockatrice. He was pale and thin and delicate looking, a stark contrast to the tanned, toned men that lived here. His dark hair gave him away, too--most everyone here had lighter shades of brown or blonde as opposed to his black.
The waitress came over with a smile, and he looked at her for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Water,” he nodded, and the woman bustled off to get it for him.
Now to sit back and observe…he hoped there was someone here who could help…
Angelico was, in one word, uncomfortable. His calm features didn’t betray it, but he was irritable and eager to leave this city. Not that he didn’t like it--the architecture was beautiful, and the people and culture even more so--he just hated this dry heat. He couldn’t breathe. And when he could, it brought about a round of coughs that took a while to get over. At least he hadn’t brought up any blood over the past few days. That was good, wasn’t it?
…Or was it bad?
Well, unless he found that sage, Old Dalan, it wasn’t going to matter. He had heard about the man, about his knowledge, and thought to seek him out. However, he didn’t know where lowtown was within Rabanastre, let alone where to find the man once he got there. That was proving to be a challenge, and it wasn’t one Angelico wanted to spend too much time on. And he didn’t want to ask any of the citizens--many of them were still sore against Archadians, and the last thing he wanted was a conflict.
He wanted to ask Old Dalan what he knew and get out of this blasted desert.
Perhaps what he needed was a guide. There was no better place to find one than a bar, and he had heard of a particularly famous one here in the city called The Sandsea. Perhaps there he could find a good guide for a few gil, or at the very least a map that was legible and comprehensible. If nothing else, he could get out of the sun for an hour or so.
…He could use a drink anyway.
With a soft sigh, the thin Archadian pushed through the crowds, examining the signs and listening for chatter about said bar. He circled around Rabanastre a few times, his frustration growing, until finally he found his haven and bustled inside. The smell that greeted him was lovely, and for a moment he allowed himself to relax before making his way to an empty table.
Now…who to ask…?
His piercing violet eyes scanned the room, and absently he adjusted the length of his ponytail so that it flowed over one shoulder. He liked his hair long, it suited him, but now he knew why even most of the women of this city wore their hair short or up. That being stated, Angelico stuck out in Rabanastre like a moogle in a flock of cockatrice. He was pale and thin and delicate looking, a stark contrast to the tanned, toned men that lived here. His dark hair gave him away, too--most everyone here had lighter shades of brown or blonde as opposed to his black.
The waitress came over with a smile, and he looked at her for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Water,” he nodded, and the woman bustled off to get it for him.
Now to sit back and observe…he hoped there was someone here who could help…