Out of the Frying Pan and into the Desert

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Desert
Date of Scene:	08 April 2013
Location:	Fluorgis - Airship Port
Synopsis:	Fran awakens in a strange new world, filled with things both familiar and somehow not quite the same. Her first contact turns out to be a Judge - who is also a viera?
Cast of Characters:	Evja, Fran

---

Evja has posed:
Late at night as it is, a lot of the traffic has simply died down within the city. Most have simply packed up and gone to their own things and those that are still out are amongst the guard, or those trawling pubs, or those who have business out such as perhaps clans.
And of course those that are coming from the airport.

Among those mulling around on the path from the airport into the city itself is a generally familiar sight within the city. A Viera draped in a white robe with an emblazoned symbol upon the back that those of most land with Judges in them would recognize as a Judges symbol, even if it isn't quite the Archadian symbol. That, and the Viera wasn't armored, so who knew for sure.
She was sitting on a bench off to the side with one leg crossed over the other while eating idly from a plate heaped high with various vegetables. Just another night for this Viera, one of many in this city.

Fran has posed:
With the advent of several new steady trade routes, thanks to the strange jigsaw puzzle of various worlds, the skies above Fluorgis are in a constant state of activity. Even as the sun falls below the horizon and the harsh desert sun gives way to the biting cold of night the flashing of tiny moving lights can be seen flitting about in the air as sky ships of various shapes and sizes make their way to the port. Commerce waits for no one.

Not everyone who traverses the clouds aboard these mighty constructs does so for mere business, however. Pleasure boats, military scouting vessels, and pirates alike cruise through the sky around the world. Some are kind enough to wear their colors on their sleeves, expecting the respect and recognition that flying their flags will bring, while others prefer to remain discreet and subtle.

The "Strahl", unfortunately, has no need of such brazen displays for its elegant hull to be recognizable. Sporting a design completely unique after years of modification and overhaul, the vessel is the trademark symbol of an infamous duo of sky pirates throughout Ivalice. Trouble seems to follow wherever this ship makes port but few people in this so-called World of Ruin are aware of that - yet.

The appearance of the pirate fighter is not what stands out, however, but the manner in which it arrives. Dark black smoke billows from several terrible wounds upon the vessel's hull as it limps slowly into the port. The alarms go out, sending all available mechanics rushing down the wide halls of the facility to deal with whatever trouble may be ailing the crippled craft. Upon the clamps sealing down about it, a veritable army of moogles swarms the "Strahl".

Several of them are sent skittering away as a large ramp unlocks and drops heavily to the deck with a sharp hiss, the pneumatic pistons meant to steadily lower it down failing catastrophically. Another cloud of dark smoke pours from the opening and for several seconds nothing but acrid ash is visible.

Finally, after several long moments, a figure emerges from the fog. Fran staggers out of the wrecked hold of her craft, one hand pressed to her side against the surface of a wound that is more painful than it is dangerous. Despite the rather pitiful condition of her ship, the viera looks little worse for wear and she casually turns to find the leader amongst the technicians as he approaches the tall demihuman.

"By the stars, kupo! What happened here?" Her waves a tiny little hand in the air to clear up some of the smoke as he speaks, the bright red pompom on his head bouncing animatedly.

"My ship has suffered damage," Fran says dryly. "It will need repairs."

"I can see that, kupo!" The moogle spins about and thrusts a wrench into the air triumphantly. "Worry not, kupo! We'll see your vessel restored, good as new!"

Fran merely nods one. "My thanks." Her gaze drifts out towards the empty desert, taking in the sights available to her that might give some clue as to where she has ended up. "I do not know this place. I thought all ports of call within Ivalice to have been touched by my travels. Tis strange to find such an obvious place amid the emptiness of the sands. Tell me, what is this town?"

Evja has posed:
A viera's nose was certainly a good thing and when it came to thinks like smelling smoke, it wasn't that hard for them to do. Thankfully. Or perhaps unfortunately. Either way, Evja found himself attracted to that scent as he raised his head to pear towards the airship port not far away.
Ships in trouble? Well, hopefully not Heartless again. With a sigh Evja placed his plate down and stood up before beginning to stride towards the chaos that seemed to be arising from a wounded ship.

Yet, upon getting there, wandering into the main area and seeing the group of mechanics, moogles and others, surrounding a wounded Viera - he hesitated. He didn't want any part of Viera, but he also had that damned altruistic streak in him that was screaming 'hurt person at least offer help'. Thus Evja reached up and pulled off the cloak that he had on before walking towards Fran and offering it towards her.
Beneath the cloak the Viera had on a long black dress with frills and puffs and ... really, it looked more like a hume ball outfit than anything any self-respecting Viera would wear. But, she was waring it, even if she wasn't /that/ shapely. "Here." Evja spoke softly, extra softly as he was when having to deal with Viera. "You should at least cover yourself with this for the time. Sand does not the wounds well when they mix and the wind likes to blow here. Heartless, or... something else?"

The question went unresponded to immediately from Evja mostly because he wasn't quite the welcoming committee and he didn't properly hear it anyways.

Fran has posed:
Even before Evja steps up to offer the cloak, the dark-skinned viera pirate turns her head to regard his approach. The smoke filling the air had stifled her sense of scent but her eyes and ears still worked just fine and her kind were a fairly rare sight beyond the borders of their various reclusive homelands.

However, despite the kind offer, Fran casually refuses with a shake of her head. "That will not be necessary. Tis naught but a minor wound." She makes no outward comment upon seeing the manner of attire that her fellow viera has clad himself in but a faint sparkle of amusement touches the corner of her eyes. Spend enough time among the humes and some adopted even their stranger traits, it seems.

"So, this is your first time here, kupo?" The head mechanic draws her attention back downwards as he answers her question after politely waiting for Evja's arrival to be dealt with. "You're in the famed City of Flowers and Commerce, Fluorgis, kupo!"

"Fluorgis." Fran says the word as if trying it out but shakes her head once more. "I have never heard of such a place. Within what borders does this city lie? Are you of Archadia? Rozarria?"

Evja has posed:
"...suit yourself." Evja responds to that, quick to turn and pull the cloak back over herself with a twirl before turning back towards Fran and look at her more properly. With that attire he can only assume Da... yup. She even asked, speaking of Archadia and Rozarria.

"It would seem you are not quite familiar with things..." an astute 'observation', not one really so much as a retelling of what she just said. "We border on Rabanastre, actually, and are but a flight away from Archades. However we are our own land. Jylland, if you have heard of such. Not aligned currently with any other group or nation so much as accepting aid here and there from those who want to offer." That, and Evja's nose crinkled a bit beneath the veil 'she' always wore. "Though please come and clean yourself, the smell of blood is not something I enjoy and I cannot imagine any of our kind finding such pleasant. Or dress it, or something. Unless you enjoy your current manner."

The offer seemingly remains open even as Evja turns and begins to wander off towards wherever.

Fran has posed:
The moogle nods and wanders off to begin overseeing the repairs on the "Strahl" when Evja steps up to handle the explanations. However, his words leave her with only more questions. How was it even possible that a city of such size and supposed fame could be so close to Rabanastre and yet she has never heard of it? Nor does this land of Jylland sound familiar. Something strange is afoot and she will find no answers standing about.

Fran takes the time to fish a rough set of design documents from a pouch, handing them off to one of the moogles so that they can affect better repairs. Ofcourse, nothing of the unique modifications that she and Balthier have made to the experimental fighter are presented on these plans. Any tinkering to be done on such things would fall to her, as usual. Such was the price of maintaining their secrets.

With that detail handled, she turns and stalks off after the mysteriously veiled viera. There is no hurry to her steps, either this person would wait for her or they would not, it matters little to the pirate. There are dozens of other places she can gather information about this city, assuming it has the usual fare of pubs, taverns, and clan halls.

Evja has posed:
The cloaked Viera wasn't walking fast enough to outpace the other. In fact, she was pointedly walking slow enough that in case the wound was actually causing any problems walking that she didn't get lost. New to the city, new to this land... and by the sound of it perhaps even new to this world.

So that may be why she didn't answer the Heartless question earlier.

Reaching into her cloak Evja pulls out a long silver whistle and blows soundlessly on it. A few moments later a Chocobo pops out of a quickly appearing and vanishing portal before trotting over towards Evja to give him a nuzzle. Patting him Evja turns and offers towards Fran, "If you want a ride, feel free. I can take you to wherever you like. There are taverns and inns and eateries and clothing shops. I could also take you to my home if you want - about a minute by Judges route. There you could clean yourself up in privacy and I could give you something more... covering if you wish."

This Viera, at least, was a lot more modest than Eruyt Viera, or for that matter Rabanastran Viera.

Fran has posed:
Fran shows no signs of impairment from the wound upon her side, striding gracefully down the main hallway of the Fluorgis airship port. The concern shown for her sake allows her to catch up to Evja in short order and she moves to stand beside him as he calls forth his mouth with magics that are quite impressive, by her standards.

Her eyes narrow slightly upon on the feathery beast. She's naturally had need of their special knack for getting around swiftly over the course of her pirating and adventuring careers but something about riding them always felt slightly wrong to her. Perhaps she simply didn't like to see anyone in captivity, even if it was a common practice. She much preferred to ride in the air, in any case.

"Your offer of hospitality is kind. But I am afraid I must refuse."

Even though this person claimed that their land was not a part of either Empire, the mention of judges gives the pirate pause. Rozarria had no Judges and Arcadia allowed none but humes to serve in their military, especially among seats of power such as the Judges. Her short time spent in the Imperial city had shown her no signs of other viera even living there. Everything about this scenario is strange.

Perhaps this was merely some small nation that has risen out of a conflict overshadowed by the threat of the Empire's encroachment. That they would go as far as to mimic Arcadia's methods of law enforcement is rather disturbing. She doubts that this will be a safe haven for long. Best to effect repairs upon the ship, acquire supplies and information, and be gone before anyone manages to recognize her.

The comment about covering up causes her to pause as well and she once more compares Evja's attire to her own in her mind. Viera rarely wore such garments, their long limbs requiring the freedom to move about. Yet another oddity. "I am quite content with my choice of attire. Merely point me to the nearest tavern and I shall take up no more of your time."

Evja has posed:
"...very well." Evja mumbles quite simply before fishing around for something in the cloak as if searching. "Mmph, I must have left it at my home. No matter, I am sure you can find a map of this city elsewhere if it suits you. Continue along up the road a ways and a quarter of the ways to the center of the city you shall find a tavern on your right."

Hard to actually show proper concern for one who doesn't want it. Plus, Evja wasn't about to force himself onto another Viera. Too many reasons not to, including not chancing the risk of getting caught. "If you do need something however, do ask about for me with the city guard. My name is Evja, Judge Magister Errant - a title with no power naturally but all the same. If you need anything, I live here. Or often enough am here or there." And with a click of the Viera's heels he turns and quite simply begins to walk back towards a bench on the side of the area where he had left his -- food...
Which is now being eaten by a moogle. "Sigh."

Fran has posed:
The directions are absorbed and filed away and Fran offers a curt nod in reply. "My thanks." Now that the other viera has given credit to her suspicions, she wants nothing to do with her. Even if this strange city was just some sort of copy-cat to the Empire, such obvious similarities could not be glossed over.

Silently, she turns and wanders off into the deeper parts of the city. A wide variety of demi-humans fill the streets which does much to ease her concerns but these oddly opposing dynamics only serve to confuse her further. She finds herself wishing Balthier were around and not for the first time offers a short prayer to the Gods that, wherever he is, he is alright.

It will take more than an unusual crash to put an end to her partner. However, the fact that she found herself alone within the cockpit of the "Strahl" upon coming to was troubling. What exactly had happened? Perhaps with time she would find the answers as well as her friend.