[ As the miqo'te curls in tighter, so too does Hoju tighten his hold. His brow furrows a little in concern, but G'raha reassures him, and the words are enough that his expression relaxes into another of those warm smiles. He nods. 'In little danger of losing extremities' is perhaps the best they can ask for, in the given situation. And, perhaps, between the two of them, and the fire, they would warm up a little more.
The scholar is silent again, though only for a few moments, this time. Perhaps conversation could distract them both from the biting cold, and give the cowl and fire time enough to work and warm them. Besides, hadn't he promised to tell G'raha of more of his adventures?
With his thumb brushing rhythmically back and forth against the other's arm in some gesture equally affectionate and reassuring, the Warrior considers where to begin. Something small, he decides, and amusing. ]
I cannot recall if I've told you of my pastimes - textile work, among the foremost. When I came to Limsa some summers past, that was how I earned my keep - long before anyone thought to address me as 'adventurer,' mind you. Anyroad, it is a hobby that remains, when I have time for such endeavors.
In rebuilding the Firmament after the end of the Dragonsong War, the people of Ishgard were in sore need of as many capable artisans as they could find, and gatherers to supply those artisans. The Diadem, under purview of House Haillenarte, is replete with all the resources any craftsman could ask for. Less fortunately, it is also replete with dangerous creatures. Most gatherers are - quite understandably - ill-equipped to handle the sort of beast and vilekin the Diadem hosts. Thus, one enterprising artisan sought to come up with a solution. His answer?
[ Hoju glanced down to G'raha, pausing for some dramatic effect, amusement glimmering in his eyes. ] The aetheromatic auger. A cannon, meant to be braced on the shoulder. It takes considerable time to gather enough aether for a full charge, but it makes short work of any hostile creature that dares wander too close to one's gathering spot.
One of the botanists I had cause to know through my work, a Lalafellin lad, was most eager to try it for himself. Docile as a kitten, he usually was, but I might swear you could hear his maniacal laughter clear across the islands when he had cause to use it. The recoil of such a weapon is no trifling thing, and he had to take great care that he didn't send himself sprawling straight over the edge. Last I visited, he still spends his days up there, auger slung gleefully over his shoulder, and woe betide any vilekin that gets between him and where he's going.
[ He is still worried. In truth, he isn't certain he will ever quite stop being worried. He certainly doesn't recall a single day going by without worrying since he first read the account of Hoju's undone death, years and lifetimes and worlds ago. And yet, if there ever was a surefire way to distract him from any amount of worry, this is it. A story of his very own, never put down to paper. A story that he can listen to, committing every word to memory and choosing whether to share to to hoard it as jealously as any dragon. ]
I- admit, I may have been keeping watch over your work at the Crystalline Mean. And I think perhaps my gratitude for the aid you lent them need not be stated by now. But to think, you had been turning your talents all this time to the restoration of half a city-
[ The rebuilding had begun in the history he knows, too. And then stopped. With so many dead, the need for homes among the most vulnerable became much less pressing. Empty homes yawned out to anyone who cared to enter them. It's bittersweet, to know that the work has been finished. To see the future he occupies start to diverge from the one he read so much about. His future is gone, and their future come to replace it.
And so he is quiet for a moment as he finishes absorbing the tale. Reflecting on the way things are now. The way they will be. ]
Will be go there, once the snow stops? [ The question starts calm, soft, then picks up enthusiasm. He shifts under the cowl, excitedly grabbing at Hoju's larger hand. ] If there is still work yet to be done- I should not mind one but playing at bodyguard to the artisans for a time, if it means a chance to see him and this cannon!
[ It doesn't surprise him, that the Exarch had kept an eye on his activities in the city. ] Thiuna and her Noddy ensured I never wanted for aught to keep me occupied in my downtime. [ Being able to restore memories to a world that had lost so much was an honor in itself. Aside from reading, Hoju found little that was more relaxing than idling with needlework. ] I was one pair of hands among many and more, I assure you.
[ And many were more talented artisans than he. Still, it was a worthy goal, and one Hoju was all too pleased to be able to contribute to. His brows loft in surprise, feeling a hand grab his own, but he closes his fingers gently around the other's, and cannot help a smile. ]
Aye, I see no reason not to. The Firmament is part of Ishgard proper, after all. The bulk of the district is well finished by now, and many have moved into their new homes. Still, to hear Lord Francel tell of it, there is always more to be done, so I imagine they would be grateful of any assistance we might provide while there.
I should warn you — the Diadem is quite cold, too. Though, for a blessing, less prone to unexpected blizzards.
[ A brief, thoughtful pause. ] Ah, I should like to introduce you to Ehll Tou and Count Charlemend de Durendaire, as well. Ehll Tou has gone to great lengths to bridge the gap between dragons and man. The Count has done considerable work among the chirurgeons and those yet convalescing from battle, as well as convinced many of his fellow highborn to aid the efforts alongside those of less noble birth.
The Firmament was never rebuilt in the time following the Eighth Calamity. There was never a need that justified- [ The why of it is not the point. The fact that those people who would need to be housed were the first to perish is not the point, nor is it particularly pleasant conversation. The point is- ] -it is heartening, inspring, to think that places exist now that never could have before.
[ It's comfortable. His hand in Hoju's. Icy fingers slowly becoming warmer with the contact. Between their closeness and the warmth of a good story, it's only too easy to forget the cold for a while. ]
I should be honoured to meet the both of them! And only too glad to offer any aid that I can to their causes, noble as they are.
[ Hoju listens, quiet and a little somber. For a moment, he closes his eyes. Perhaps imagining the future that was no longer there, perhaps a moment of silence for the vulnerable, whose lives were lost. Those who never had a chance, through no fault of their own. It is for the sake of people like those that he left his homeland in the first place.
The scholar sighs, quiet, and then returns his attention to G'raha with a faint smile and a nod.
It's a strange feeling, though he imagines it stranger still for G'raha. Bittersweet, either way. He gives his companion's hand a small squeeze. ]
I imagine they've no shortage of work to spare. A fair few others, too, if they don't. [ Don't worry, G'raha. If there's one thing Hoju ends up with plenty of, it is sidequests. But speaking of their trip— ]
Was there aught you wished to see first? —After we rest, of course. [ Don't worry! He won't forget his promise. ]
After we rest- after seeing their work in the field, I should very much like to see the Skysteel Manufactory! And the chocobo stables nearby - I heard them say that the Garlean ceruleum heaters were similar to the ones they use to keep the birds warm and help them to incubate their eggs. And I'm certain that Lord Fortemps is an exceptionally busy man, but I should like to at least leave a message to thank him for all of his writings, and-
[ That is not one thing. He curls in against Hoju, pulling the makeshift blanket tight enough to leave no space for cold air to enter. Forces himself to calm down with a soft sigh, and places his other hand on Hoju's, too, so he's holding one large hand in both of his smaller ones. ]
-I want to look until we find something you've never seen before. It doesn't have to be anything important. Just- something. That you never noticed before, that we can discover together.
[ The qualifier G'raha gives - reminding Hoju again of his promise to rest, as though the man might forget it - earns a glimmer of amusement that he cannot quite suppress. G'raha is the newest to their group, in a sense, and yet he clearly knows the Warrior of Light as well as any of their friends... if not more so.
Morbid curiosity has left him to wonder more than once what was written of him, after his death in the timeline that has since diverged. He wonders if they wrote of the way every trial seemed to wear him down more, how eventually he expended his own life-sustaining aether to fell greater and greater threats, until it was only inevitable that the next threat felled him in turn. Or, he wonders, did they write of him as a hero to the end, miraculously overcoming all odds until his life was tragically cut short?
It is not something he has asked for many reasons, not the least of which being that it seems unkind to one of his dearest companions. Both for the future he fought so hard to save, and for how much the memory of the Warrior of Light meant to him.
He listens, quietly, to all of G'raha's excited ideas, the same warm and kind smile lingering. It remains, too, as the miqo'te seems to gather himself. With his own broad hand held in both of G'raha's smaller ones, Hoju's smile widens for the sentimental thought. ]
There is much of our star I have yet to see - Emet-Selch pointed out as much. And yet, I wager there is much and more I have yet to discover even in locations well familiar to me.
[ His grip tightens just briefly in an affectionate gesture. ] That I should discover them with you would mean more to me than I could say.
We shall see it all. Every ilm of it. Not all at once, and not until you are rested, but-
[ He's trying to be subtle about it, but his hands work at the fingers of Hoju's, trying to massage warmth into them. He hasn't entirely forgotten their predicament in his excitement.
But he has begun to focus on it less, and more upon other things. Their journeys. The ones yet lying ahead of them. How pleasant it is to be here, even in the bitter cold, curled up against him. How much of a relief it is to be able to feel the way his chest rises and falls, after a horrified few hours of never being certain if it would rise again. ]
-one thing. We shall find one tiny part of every place we see. That can be ours. Like the patterns of Hannish silks, or the view from the highest part of the Crystarium's walls.
[ Hoju chuckles quietly. It is — blizzard notwithstanding — nice to sit like this. To feel G'raha's smaller hands on his own, to feel his warmth against him. ]
There was an adventurer I happened upon, in the Crystarium - Eirlalth, I believe his name was. It was his goal to see all of Norvrandt, and he shared many places he had been, as well as those he had yet to see for himself. The journal is in my bag, there. One location in particular in the Crystarium specifies a very exacting spot upon which to stand - I have yet to attempt it myself, for fear of the guard having to collect me off the stones below.
[ Hoju clears his throat with a slightly abashed 'ahem'. ] Anyroad, there are adventurers here, too, that have all been kind enough to share, and I imagine more still should we venture further afield. Mayhaps the journal will give us a place to start, should we be at a loss.
...Though- [ He shifts slightly beneath the cowl, gently gathering both of G'raha's hands in his own. It's only fair, he thinks, to offer some comfort and warmth in return. ] -perhaps if we are to collect other memories together, I shall need a second journal.
Ah- I think I know the place you mean. I always wondered if someone was encouraging people to jump from that walkway. No amount of safety rails ever seemed to deter- [ He sighs, shaking his head. ] -well. I suppose it is no longer my concern. A pity I only came across the levitation spell now, I could have prevented a good amount of bruises.
[ It's always strange, how easy it is to let his mind fall back into the Exarch's patterns. Even now he can feel himself considering how a carefully placed aether current might catch wayward sightseers to spare them a hard landing (because he, of all people, is in no position to ask people not to jump from high places). A life he lived and did not live at once. ]
Then we shall make one. Or- ask Tataru if she would wish to, perhaps. Goodness knows the work she did on your own grimoire is as skillful as that of the best of Sharlayan's bookbinders. And- and we shall gather all she needs for it ourselves, from all the places we go. Doman paper, and glue from-
[ -G'raha if you have the adventure so you can get the stuff to make a book, you can't also write about the adventure in the book. ]
[ Wait— other people had tried it too? As surprised as he is, Hoju cannot help a small chuckle. Part of it was for the comical idea that the Warrior of Darkness, of all people, was more cautious of a dangerous place than others. (Rushing alone headlong into a primal's den was all well and good, but trying to carefully drop from a safety rail to a canopy below? Right out.) Part of his amusement, though, stemmed from the obvious way old habits died hard for G'raha. From the first moment Hoju had met the Exarch in Lakeland, it was clear how much he cared for those under his protection. It is clear, still.
He listens, and then, offers ideas of his own: ] -from the alchemist's guild in Ul'dah. Their ink is quite good as well, though I am partial to that from Makers' Meet. [ Nostalgia, perhaps, or a familiarity from many late nights transcribing his work as an apprentice historian. ]
Any closures I could fashion myself at Naldiq and Vimelli's in Limsa Lominsa... Ah, and the thread from Reunion, in the Azim Steppe.
[ No one was to say they could not write their adventures down in some other journal or even on scraps, and transcribe it later. The notion was perhaps a frivolous, overly romantic one, to write their adventures in a book that had been created from materials obtained during said adventures. Still, Hoju liked it all the same. And that aside, he was hardly inclined to dissuade G'raha from his excitable brainstorming.
His own fondness for the idea aside, to support the other in his dream to see the realm together felt the least he could do, for all G'raha had been through, and for as much as he had supported the Warrior. The memory of standing before the Exarch's crystallized form, holding the crystal close to his breast, remained ever at the forefront of his memories. G'raha was dear to him, he knew that keenly - but that memory ensured that he did not take the other for granted for even a moment.
He looks back to G'raha. ] Where shall we get the leather for the binding?
The leather. [ He repeats it thoughtfully. Because he knows the answer. Of course he knows the answer. It's just asking a lot of everyone involved. ] If you would be willing- if they would be willing-
[ His voice falls softer. Warmer. ]
Lyna and the guard hunted the smilodons of Lakeland, in the moons after the night returned. In the absence of sin eaters their numbers were proving unsustainable - they were moving closer to settlements and wreaking no small amount of havoc on those creatures upon which they preyed. They would bring the kills to the Mean, so that each part could be put to proper use.
I would not take anything from them if they have need of it. But if the skin can be spared-
[ It's a little embarrassing, knowing how proud he sounds of his bunny granddaughter. Of the Mean itself. Of the patched-together city that so many people lifted from his fumbling hands and made whole and beautiful. ]
-perhaps, when the book is filled, we can send it back to her. She always did wish to know more of my homeland.
[ The pride, the care, is plain, and it is deeply endearing. The scholar sits quiet until G'raha is finished, and though he does not say as much for risk of embarrassing the other further, the roegadyn's smile perhaps gives it away.
He lifts his great hand from the other's grasp, and gently brushes a knuckle against his cheek as though to impress upon him the importance of what he is about to say. Then, he settles his hand back over G'raha's smaller one. ]
They would, all of them, be willing to move the Tower itself if you asked them of it. As would I. I am quite sure Lyna and the others - to say naught of Beq Lugg or Moren - will be all too willing to part with an excess hide in exchange for a book of your adventures. If they happen to be short of stock, we shall find a suitable alternative.
[ He could think of any number of ideas: the leatherworker's guild, where they might explore the winding paths of Gridania; the hunters of Tailfeather, nestled in the shadow of Sohm Al in the Dravanian Forelands; or Kurenai, from Sui-no-Sato beneath the Ruby Sea. Or, perhaps they would find somewhere entirely new, and important to them both by virtue of discovering something together, just for the two of them.
Finally, in case his companion had any doubt: ] In any case, I will deliver it to Lyna's hands myself, when it is finished.
Though, I imagine you should also like a copy for yourself? [ By which Hoju really means that he would like for G'raha to have a copy, because the miqo'te so rarely had a thought for his own wants. (Any request for an adventure not fraught with constant mortal peril was hardly a selfish request, in Hoju's estimation.) ]
[ When Hoju lifts a hand he looks up, following its movement, then leans into it as it touches his face. Lets out a rumbling sigh that sounds almost suspiciously purr-like - and normally that would be terribly embarrassing, but he can't quite manage to be self-conscious right now. ]
If I could see it to her myself, I would. As things are, I am ever in your debt. Thank you.
[ He considers it. In truth, he's never really thought of a book as anything that has value to the writer themselves. Only ever as a means to pass information to others. But the idea has some appeal. ]
It would be nice, to have something of my own to keep in the annex. Perhaps if Moren and his librarians would be willing to make a copy, that they could have the source's book, and we might keep the first's.
But I think perhaps the only book of adventures I should want- [ Want. He says that word so rarely that it surprises him when it leaves his lips. Want. He wants something, and so badly that it can't be ignored and pushed aside. ] -should be one yet ready with empty pages to be written upon.
[ He would stress that delivering a book to Lyna, for whom he holds his own fondness as a friend, hardly warrants G'raha being indebted. But, as much as Hoju is aware of his own stubborn tendencies in certain things, he is aware of the same in his companion.
So he nods, instead.
It surprises him perhaps just as much as G'raha, hearing the word 'want'. But he smiles for the request. ] Then you shall have it.
[ He feels warmer, for the fire. Warmer still, for the feel of his companion curled against him beneath makeshift blanket, and their conversation. Hoju takes a moment to glance up - by the sound of it, the blizzard has yet to exhaust itself. ]
It seems we shall be here for a time yet. How are you faring? [ Yes, the man that should probably, technically, still be convalescing at home is asking G'raha how he is feeling. He hasn't forgotten that the miqo'te mentioned his ears were sensitive! Granted, he had seemed to manage just fine in Garlemald, but Hoju would not be remiss in checking, just in case. ]
Cold. [ It's rare for him to admit discomfort, but there are a few things he's only too happy to complain about. The cold is one of them. He was made for the warmth and humidity of Corvos. The bitterly cold air, dry from all the moisture in it being frozen into snow, doesn't agree with him in the slightest. Even Sharlayan was always a little too cold on all but the brightest days. This is- pretty awful, honestly.
If it were safe to move about, it might be different. The idea that the Diadem might be bitterly cold doesn't concern him, because gathering materials and driving off monsters sounds like the kind of work that will warm a body quickly. But remaining still gives the cold a chance to creep in under his skin.
He's smiling, at least. Sheepishly, because really he shouldn't be the one who needs checking up on, but he's not distressed. ]
[ The roegadyn chuckles at G'raha's answer. Dreadfully cold indeed. He does readjust his position enough that he might wrap an arm more completely around his smaller companion. Small comfort, perhaps, but a bit of extra body heat might do some good. (Or, realistically, it is some mix of the Warrior's affection and protectiveness.) ] I suppose that is, then, the best we might ask for at the moment. I imagine it will make the tea all the more satisfying, when we get to it.
[ The mention of tea reminds him of something else he might share. Small, but something to while away the wait. Surely the blizzard wouldn't last too much longer. Hopefully. ] When I first had cause to visit Ser Aymeric in his home, I learned he enjoys birch syrup in his tea. Though... perhaps it is more accurate to say he enjoys a bit of tea in his birch syrup.
I must confess to having something of a sweet tooth, and often use birch syrup myself, now. [ Though, perhaps not quite as much. ] If you take sugar in your tea, I recommend trying it.
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sandwichbasket) wrote2021-11-26 01:03 am
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[ As the miqo'te curls in tighter, so too does Hoju tighten his hold. His brow furrows a little in concern, but G'raha reassures him, and the words are enough that his expression relaxes into another of those warm smiles. He nods. 'In little danger of losing extremities' is perhaps the best they can ask for, in the given situation. And, perhaps, between the two of them, and the fire, they would warm up a little more.
The scholar is silent again, though only for a few moments, this time. Perhaps conversation could distract them both from the biting cold, and give the cowl and fire time enough to work and warm them. Besides, hadn't he promised to tell G'raha of more of his adventures?
With his thumb brushing rhythmically back and forth against the other's arm in some gesture equally affectionate and reassuring, the Warrior considers where to begin. Something small, he decides, and amusing. ]
I cannot recall if I've told you of my pastimes - textile work, among the foremost. When I came to Limsa some summers past, that was how I earned my keep - long before anyone thought to address me as 'adventurer,' mind you. Anyroad, it is a hobby that remains, when I have time for such endeavors.
In rebuilding the Firmament after the end of the Dragonsong War, the people of Ishgard were in sore need of as many capable artisans as they could find, and gatherers to supply those artisans. The Diadem, under purview of House Haillenarte, is replete with all the resources any craftsman could ask for. Less fortunately, it is also replete with dangerous creatures. Most gatherers are - quite understandably - ill-equipped to handle the sort of beast and vilekin the Diadem hosts. Thus, one enterprising artisan sought to come up with a solution. His answer?
[ Hoju glanced down to G'raha, pausing for some dramatic effect, amusement glimmering in his eyes. ] The aetheromatic auger. A cannon, meant to be braced on the shoulder. It takes considerable time to gather enough aether for a full charge, but it makes short work of any hostile creature that dares wander too close to one's gathering spot.
One of the botanists I had cause to know through my work, a Lalafellin lad, was most eager to try it for himself. Docile as a kitten, he usually was, but I might swear you could hear his maniacal laughter clear across the islands when he had cause to use it. The recoil of such a weapon is no trifling thing, and he had to take great care that he didn't send himself sprawling straight over the edge. Last I visited, he still spends his days up there, auger slung gleefully over his shoulder, and woe betide any vilekin that gets between him and where he's going.
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I- admit, I may have been keeping watch over your work at the Crystalline Mean. And I think perhaps my gratitude for the aid you lent them need not be stated by now. But to think, you had been turning your talents all this time to the restoration of half a city-
[ The rebuilding had begun in the history he knows, too. And then stopped. With so many dead, the need for homes among the most vulnerable became much less pressing. Empty homes yawned out to anyone who cared to enter them. It's bittersweet, to know that the work has been finished. To see the future he occupies start to diverge from the one he read so much about. His future is gone, and their future come to replace it.
And so he is quiet for a moment as he finishes absorbing the tale. Reflecting on the way things are now. The way they will be. ]
Will be go there, once the snow stops? [ The question starts calm, soft, then picks up enthusiasm. He shifts under the cowl, excitedly grabbing at Hoju's larger hand. ] If there is still work yet to be done- I should not mind one but playing at bodyguard to the artisans for a time, if it means a chance to see him and this cannon!
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[ And many were more talented artisans than he. Still, it was a worthy goal, and one Hoju was all too pleased to be able to contribute to. His brows loft in surprise, feeling a hand grab his own, but he closes his fingers gently around the other's, and cannot help a smile. ]
Aye, I see no reason not to. The Firmament is part of Ishgard proper, after all. The bulk of the district is well finished by now, and many have moved into their new homes. Still, to hear Lord Francel tell of it, there is always more to be done, so I imagine they would be grateful of any assistance we might provide while there.
I should warn you — the Diadem is quite cold, too. Though, for a blessing, less prone to unexpected blizzards.
[ A brief, thoughtful pause. ] Ah, I should like to introduce you to Ehll Tou and Count Charlemend de Durendaire, as well. Ehll Tou has gone to great lengths to bridge the gap between dragons and man. The Count has done considerable work among the chirurgeons and those yet convalescing from battle, as well as convinced many of his fellow highborn to aid the efforts alongside those of less noble birth.
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[ It's comfortable. His hand in Hoju's. Icy fingers slowly becoming warmer with the contact. Between their closeness and the warmth of a good story, it's only too easy to forget the cold for a while. ]
I should be honoured to meet the both of them! And only too glad to offer any aid that I can to their causes, noble as they are.
[ LET HIM DO SIDEQUESTS. HE LIKES SIDEQUESTS. ]
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The scholar sighs, quiet, and then returns his attention to G'raha with a faint smile and a nod.
It's a strange feeling, though he imagines it stranger still for G'raha. Bittersweet, either way. He gives his companion's hand a small squeeze. ]
I imagine they've no shortage of work to spare. A fair few others, too, if they don't. [ Don't worry, G'raha. If there's one thing Hoju ends up with plenty of, it is sidequests. But speaking of their trip— ]
Was there aught you wished to see first? —After we rest, of course. [ Don't worry! He won't forget his promise. ]
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[ That is not one thing. He curls in against Hoju, pulling the makeshift blanket tight enough to leave no space for cold air to enter. Forces himself to calm down with a soft sigh, and places his other hand on Hoju's, too, so he's holding one large hand in both of his smaller ones. ]
-I want to look until we find something you've never seen before. It doesn't have to be anything important. Just- something. That you never noticed before, that we can discover together.
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Morbid curiosity has left him to wonder more than once what was written of him, after his death in the timeline that has since diverged. He wonders if they wrote of the way every trial seemed to wear him down more, how eventually he expended his own life-sustaining aether to fell greater and greater threats, until it was only inevitable that the next threat felled him in turn. Or, he wonders, did they write of him as a hero to the end, miraculously overcoming all odds until his life was tragically cut short?
It is not something he has asked for many reasons, not the least of which being that it seems unkind to one of his dearest companions. Both for the future he fought so hard to save, and for how much the memory of the Warrior of Light meant to him.
He listens, quietly, to all of G'raha's excited ideas, the same warm and kind smile lingering. It remains, too, as the miqo'te seems to gather himself. With his own broad hand held in both of G'raha's smaller ones, Hoju's smile widens for the sentimental thought. ]
There is much of our star I have yet to see - Emet-Selch pointed out as much. And yet, I wager there is much and more I have yet to discover even in locations well familiar to me.
[ His grip tightens just briefly in an affectionate gesture. ] That I should discover them with you would mean more to me than I could say.
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[ He's trying to be subtle about it, but his hands work at the fingers of Hoju's, trying to massage warmth into them. He hasn't entirely forgotten their predicament in his excitement.
But he has begun to focus on it less, and more upon other things. Their journeys. The ones yet lying ahead of them. How pleasant it is to be here, even in the bitter cold, curled up against him. How much of a relief it is to be able to feel the way his chest rises and falls, after a horrified few hours of never being certain if it would rise again. ]
-one thing. We shall find one tiny part of every place we see. That can be ours. Like the patterns of Hannish silks, or the view from the highest part of the Crystarium's walls.
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There was an adventurer I happened upon, in the Crystarium - Eirlalth, I believe his name was. It was his goal to see all of Norvrandt, and he shared many places he had been, as well as those he had yet to see for himself. The journal is in my bag, there. One location in particular in the Crystarium specifies a very exacting spot upon which to stand - I have yet to attempt it myself, for fear of the guard having to collect me off the stones below.
[ Hoju clears his throat with a slightly abashed 'ahem'. ] Anyroad, there are adventurers here, too, that have all been kind enough to share, and I imagine more still should we venture further afield. Mayhaps the journal will give us a place to start, should we be at a loss.
...Though- [ He shifts slightly beneath the cowl, gently gathering both of G'raha's hands in his own. It's only fair, he thinks, to offer some comfort and warmth in return. ] -perhaps if we are to collect other memories together, I shall need a second journal.
Sorry for the delay!
[ It's always strange, how easy it is to let his mind fall back into the Exarch's patterns. Even now he can feel himself considering how a carefully placed aether current might catch wayward sightseers to spare them a hard landing (because he, of all people, is in no position to ask people not to jump from high places). A life he lived and did not live at once. ]
Then we shall make one. Or- ask Tataru if she would wish to, perhaps. Goodness knows the work she did on your own grimoire is as skillful as that of the best of Sharlayan's bookbinders. And- and we shall gather all she needs for it ourselves, from all the places we go. Doman paper, and glue from-
[ -G'raha if you have the adventure so you can get the stuff to make a book, you can't also write about the adventure in the book. ]
No worries!
He listens, and then, offers ideas of his own: ] -from the alchemist's guild in Ul'dah. Their ink is quite good as well, though I am partial to that from Makers' Meet. [ Nostalgia, perhaps, or a familiarity from many late nights transcribing his work as an apprentice historian. ]
Any closures I could fashion myself at Naldiq and Vimelli's in Limsa Lominsa... Ah, and the thread from Reunion, in the Azim Steppe.
[ No one was to say they could not write their adventures down in some other journal or even on scraps, and transcribe it later. The notion was perhaps a frivolous, overly romantic one, to write their adventures in a book that had been created from materials obtained during said adventures. Still, Hoju liked it all the same. And that aside, he was hardly inclined to dissuade G'raha from his excitable brainstorming.
His own fondness for the idea aside, to support the other in his dream to see the realm together felt the least he could do, for all G'raha had been through, and for as much as he had supported the Warrior. The memory of standing before the Exarch's crystallized form, holding the crystal close to his breast, remained ever at the forefront of his memories. G'raha was dear to him, he knew that keenly - but that memory ensured that he did not take the other for granted for even a moment.
He looks back to G'raha. ] Where shall we get the leather for the binding?
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[ His voice falls softer. Warmer. ]
Lyna and the guard hunted the smilodons of Lakeland, in the moons after the night returned. In the absence of sin eaters their numbers were proving unsustainable - they were moving closer to settlements and wreaking no small amount of havoc on those creatures upon which they preyed. They would bring the kills to the Mean, so that each part could be put to proper use.
I would not take anything from them if they have need of it. But if the skin can be spared-
[ It's a little embarrassing, knowing how proud he sounds of his bunny granddaughter. Of the Mean itself. Of the patched-together city that so many people lifted from his fumbling hands and made whole and beautiful. ]
-perhaps, when the book is filled, we can send it back to her. She always did wish to know more of my homeland.
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He lifts his great hand from the other's grasp, and gently brushes a knuckle against his cheek as though to impress upon him the importance of what he is about to say. Then, he settles his hand back over G'raha's smaller one. ]
They would, all of them, be willing to move the Tower itself if you asked them of it. As would I. I am quite sure Lyna and the others - to say naught of Beq Lugg or Moren - will be all too willing to part with an excess hide in exchange for a book of your adventures. If they happen to be short of stock, we shall find a suitable alternative.
[ He could think of any number of ideas: the leatherworker's guild, where they might explore the winding paths of Gridania; the hunters of Tailfeather, nestled in the shadow of Sohm Al in the Dravanian Forelands; or Kurenai, from Sui-no-Sato beneath the Ruby Sea. Or, perhaps they would find somewhere entirely new, and important to them both by virtue of discovering something together, just for the two of them.
Finally, in case his companion had any doubt: ] In any case, I will deliver it to Lyna's hands myself, when it is finished.
Though, I imagine you should also like a copy for yourself? [ By which Hoju really means that he would like for G'raha to have a copy, because the miqo'te so rarely had a thought for his own wants. (Any request for an adventure not fraught with constant mortal peril was hardly a selfish request, in Hoju's estimation.) ]
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[ When Hoju lifts a hand he looks up, following its movement, then leans into it as it touches his face. Lets out a rumbling sigh that sounds almost suspiciously purr-like - and normally that would be terribly embarrassing, but he can't quite manage to be self-conscious right now. ]
If I could see it to her myself, I would. As things are, I am ever in your debt. Thank you.
[ He considers it. In truth, he's never really thought of a book as anything that has value to the writer themselves. Only ever as a means to pass information to others. But the idea has some appeal. ]
It would be nice, to have something of my own to keep in the annex. Perhaps if Moren and his librarians would be willing to make a copy, that they could have the source's book, and we might keep the first's.
But I think perhaps the only book of adventures I should want- [ Want. He says that word so rarely that it surprises him when it leaves his lips. Want. He wants something, and so badly that it can't be ignored and pushed aside. ] -should be one yet ready with empty pages to be written upon.
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So he nods, instead.
It surprises him perhaps just as much as G'raha, hearing the word 'want'. But he smiles for the request. ] Then you shall have it.
[ He feels warmer, for the fire. Warmer still, for the feel of his companion curled against him beneath makeshift blanket, and their conversation. Hoju takes a moment to glance up - by the sound of it, the blizzard has yet to exhaust itself. ]
It seems we shall be here for a time yet. How are you faring? [ Yes, the man that should probably, technically, still be convalescing at home is asking G'raha how he is feeling. He hasn't forgotten that the miqo'te mentioned his ears were sensitive! Granted, he had seemed to manage just fine in Garlemald, but Hoju would not be remiss in checking, just in case. ]
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If it were safe to move about, it might be different. The idea that the Diadem might be bitterly cold doesn't concern him, because gathering materials and driving off monsters sounds like the kind of work that will warm a body quickly. But remaining still gives the cold a chance to creep in under his skin.
He's smiling, at least. Sheepishly, because really he shouldn't be the one who needs checking up on, but he's not distressed. ]
In no danger. But dreadfully cold.
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[ The mention of tea reminds him of something else he might share. Small, but something to while away the wait. Surely the blizzard wouldn't last too much longer. Hopefully. ] When I first had cause to visit Ser Aymeric in his home, I learned he enjoys birch syrup in his tea. Though... perhaps it is more accurate to say he enjoys a bit of tea in his birch syrup.
I must confess to having something of a sweet tooth, and often use birch syrup myself, now. [ Though, perhaps not quite as much. ] If you take sugar in your tea, I recommend trying it.