2019-06-07: Couriering Cats
- Couriering Cats
- Cast: Gwen Whitlock, Seraph Liath
- Where: Kilika
- Date: June 7, 2019
- Summary: Attempting to make good on the delivery of one (1) cat from a tree to its owner, Gwen runs into a certain Seraph. Discussions on the qualifications to become a super courier and taking care of oneself are had.
============================<* Kilika - Jungles *>============================ The island of Kilika is filled with a massive jungle, which is no stranger to Fiends. The recent attack by Sin has made the jungle a dangerous place indeed; powerful Fiends patrol, and a few Sinspawn are rumored to be sighted. Much of Althena's Guard, having arrived, is devoted to making headway into the jungle and protecting the route to the Temple, which is nestled up in the mountains beyond the jungle. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHw2V0C-D-o
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
The process of repair and renewal is a long and arduous one, further complicated by the refugees fleeing to other cities in the wake of the disastrous counterattack against Sin. Even worse are the strange foreigners caught in the middle, especially in the aftermath.
Such as one certain Super Courier, high up in a tree, a red-faced and tear-soaked small child watching intently. "Heeereee kitty, kitty..."
"Momo is scared of heights!" the little girl says, ready to burst into tears again. "She doesn't like being in trees!"
One hand goes over the other as the courier, overdressed in Spiran garb, carefully moves on a particularly sturdy branch, her eyes on a hissing feline in a branch above her. "Cooommme to Gweeen..."
"-And she don't like thunder either!"
On cue, thunder threatens in the far distance, a ready reminder of the constant interplay of sun and rain in Spiran climate. ".... damn it..." Gwen swears helplessly, as the agile bob-tailed cat leaps to another branch. "Momo, pleassse come here..."
Tree-climbing was not a skill most people of the Badlands cultivated in their respective childhoods.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
The village of Kilika has seen better days; it would certainly be hard to argue that they've seen worse. But its people persevere, even in the literal face of catastrophe.
For as ugly as the scarred sight of Kilika is, then, in some ways... it's also heartwarming.
Its lingering residents, however, are not the only ones here. There are those scattered from another continent or other world entirely here; otherworlders, such as one certain Super Courier, high up in a tree, chasing after her most wily adversary yet:
A cat.
But you know, a jumpy one.
Case in point: thunder ripples its booming path across the horizon, and off hops the cat from branch to branch away from the clinging Gwen --
"Hm?"
-- and directly into someone else's waiting lap.
It's hard to say how long she's been sitting there, on a particularly sturdy branch on opposite side of that tree; facing Kilika proper, one armored leg drawn slightly upward, she watches the restoration of this small village with a look of rapt interest: a woman with all the noble bearing of a knight, gold hair with white tips done up in a series of tight, intricate braids that leaves asymmetric bangs to frame her face; the shield leaning against the branch nearest to her lends a bit more credence to the knightly imagery she presents. But right now? She seems lost in her own little world, attention almost entirely subsumed by the activities of Kilika proper that she does not even seem to notice Gwen, the child, or the cat--
-- at least, until the later invades her personal space with the latest peel of thunder.
Bright gold eyes flutter in a blink, as the woman suddenly finds herself Occupied By Cat. Most people likely would have startled.
She, instead, just finds a small smile, outstretching her unarmored left hand towards the feline with an inviting sense of warmth.
"Hello, little one. Have you come to rest, too?"
She still does not seem to have noticed Gwen's struggles. Don't worry. It'll come to her.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
With a few hesitant sniffs of its little nose to the fingertips of Liath's left hand, the bob-tailed 'Momo' purrs as it accepts it, readily rubbing against the offered hand in earnest. Curling its body, it circles around three times before settling into the Seraph's lap, finding it far more inviting (and safe) than whatever the strange freckle-faced person was offering.
"... ah..." Gwen, meanwhile, blinks and stares at Liath, her mouth slightly open. When did she-? How? Why? The white tips could indicate a Seraph, but this one's a Seraph Gwen's certainly never encountered before so-
"Miss, is Momo okay...?" The islander girl's hands relax from their current activity of balling up the fabric of her skirt, her tears momentairely forgotten as she looks up at Liath with the unique sort of unrestricted wonder a child would have.
"Well, this definitely makes this venture a lot easier for me." Gwen keeps her voice low, not wanting to disturb the bundle of fuzz inhabiting Liath's lap. "Maybe we could just ease 'er on down, and then-"
Thunder cracks overhead, loud and booming, accompanied by the scream of startled little girl below and the yelp of the clinging courier above.
The noise heralds in a momentary silence, then the soft rush of oncoming rain, falling and settling like a blanket over the island.
The cat is now gone, having relocated itself to cling to Gwen's face with all its claws fully deployed. "O-ow..." whines the courier, through the scared cats body on her face.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
With the cat having found its new home in her lap, the Seraph seems to fall easily into a comforting pattern, gloved fingers scratching fondly at the top of Momo's head as her bright gold eyes fall on Kilika anew.
"They are tenacious, are they not?" she muses to her new feline friend, not quite yet noticing the diligent courier's approach. "That endurance is something I will never tire of seeing." She looks down at Momo, gold eyes slivering in the breadth of her amused smile.
"And you are as well, of course. I--"
Miss, is Momo okay...?
Liath's head cants. She looks down towards the girl, expression thoughtful. "Momo, is it? A good name," she decides, after a moment. Her voice somehow just sounds reassuring, the confidence of it carrying with all the comfort of a safety blanket. "Your Momo is well. She is merely looking for safety. Something seems to have frightened her... ah."
And it is here that her gilded gaze falls on Gwen, clinging to that nearby branch.
A second passes. Her lips purse.
"Oh -- I am sorry, does this tree belong to you?"
One can only wonder how she came to that conclusion.
But as the bigger picture swiftly becomes clearer the more Gwen talks, Liath's brows furrow. She looks down to the cat in her lap, exhaling a brief, soft sigh.
"... I am afraid I cannot help you with that. But if you would like to take her, I--"
cra-KOOM
Light flashes a searingly bright arc overhead. Thunder echoes all the way down to the bones. And by the time the light fades...
... Liath's lap is down one (1) cat.
And Gwen's face is up one (1).
Seconds pass, as those wide, wondering eyes take in Gwen's unfortunate state.
"I suppose the situation has resolved itself, then."
Sympathy pangs in her features. But also, somehow --
"Take heart. She appears to find your face comforting."
-- encouragement??
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Little paws knead at the material of Liath's skirt, her purring almost like a quick agreement with Liath's musings on the town.
The girl's face brightens as her head bobs. "Uh-huh. I named her Momo because she's the prettiest cat on the whole island! Mommy said I needed to take care of her because not everybody has precious things right now, but Momo went into a tree and Mommy said I can't climb trees." Her eyes brighten. "What's your name? Are you a summoner? You're as pretty as Lady Yuna!"
What frightened poor Momo? It could only be the unsteady Gwen, clinging to her branch with none of the grace a heady dose of adrenaline and lack of sense would have otherwise afforded her in more dire situations. "Oh, uh, n-no," the redhead offers softly, shaking her head. "Y'just surprised me, that's all."
KER-*FLASH*
"Mhph-mph." It was a response to Liath, but as to what the respond was is unclear. One grey-blue eye is uncovered as the cat adjusts her grip on the poor courier's face, drawing a wince as the claws find purchase on new parts of her face. "Mhphhm-" Gwen stops, realizing her folly. Raising her index finger in order to signal Liath to wait, the courier carefully pulls her scarf to drape over the scared feline, her left hand holding the warm bundle fast against her face, shifting it from over her mouth. "I'm gonna climb down. Could y'do me a big favor n' keep the little girl calm by talkin' to her? I don't want her to get any more worked up, n' I think she likes you." The right hand, meanwhile, clamps around the branch of the tree, then the bark of the trunk.
One foot, then two. The rain makes the trunk perilously slick, removing the grip she otherwise had going up, when she had two hands to help herself up, instead of one.
An ill-timed step and Gwen slips, her gloved right hand digging deep into the bark's surface as she lets out a grunt through the covered Momo's muffled hissing.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
Could y'do me a big favor...
It's perhaps strange, that Liath's immediate response is not an answer at all to what is ultimately a simple request. Her brows furrowing inward towards their center, chin cupped against her gloved forefinger and thumb, the Seraph instead seems to lose herself in momentary thought, as if debating her response.
Lips part. And her expression is nothing but apologetic.
"I cannot do you any favors such as that," she says, in a way no less than absolute. A second passes by.
"But I am curious as to the state of the people still lingering in this village, so I will speak to her, pursuant to my own interests."
It's a strange argument of semantics, to be sure. But the solemnity of her tone seems to indicate it is nothing less than absolutely crucial.
A fact possibly made slightly surreal when one considers it's about something as simple as getting a cat out of a tree.
Rain falls thick, pelting green fabrics into darker, damper shades as Liath reaches out to take hold of her shield. And as Gwen slowly works her way down the trunk of the tree across rain-slicked bark, Liath simply... falls out of it, slipping her way off of her branch and descending in a graceful freefall of fluttering skirts and whipping, water-logged hair until she lands within a comfortable crouch on the ground below.
Despite the coolness of the rain, her smile for the girl is nothing more than a ray of sunshine as she lifts her shield up. It blocks the rain in a pitterpatter of water on metal; that it will help cover the girl, too, if she scoots closer is a happy accident of her proximity.
This, too, is important.
"Your mother is very wise. We must always treasure the things important in our lives," she finally says to the girl, voice full of sincerity. "I am afraid I am no summoner, but I do serve at the side of one somewhat like them. She is kind and brave. Just like your Lady Yuna."
The sound of soles scraping bark, the perilous notes of someone nearly slipping off a tree. It says volumes of Liath's confidence that she does not even look up at Gwen as she nearly falls; she cannot.
"Worry not. Your Momo is in the hands of someone very much like them, too." She offers out her hand, her expression nothing less than certain even in its gentleness.
"My name is Liath. What is yours, little one?"
This is the most she can do.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
The apologetic expression, the gentle refusal. Gwen's own expression does not seem to slant towards disappointment, instead accepting it.
That doesn't stop the courier from smiling in spite of the rain that drips from her curls, like the a patch of blue sky had opened in the heavens above. "Ah, perfect, that'll work great! Thanks a million!"
The red-head accepts it all, seeming even happier that the Seraph had found her own angle to pursue.
As the Seraph descends, the girl steps back, nearly doubling over with excitement as the ethereal 'summoner'(?)'s feet touch the ground. Rushing under the shelter of Liath's shield heedless of the Seraph's personal space, the girl looks up with wide, dark eyes, drinking in Liath's words. "You serve someone like a summoner? Like Lady Yuna? Mommy says only really special people become summoners."
Liath's confidence is not voiced in vain, and her words keep the girl's interest as the courier's right hand digs into bark with a strength a simple courier would normally not possess.
"She's like Lady Yuna too??" ... A strength a simple courier should *not* possess.
The question of the girl's name causes her to suddenly become shy. She looks down, her hands playing with her skirt. "My name is Tuila and I'm six years old."
The courier's boots meet the ground, that left hand not daring to leave the cat affixed to her face until she's within the child's reach. "Here, I'm gonna wrap her up in this, so she doesn't run up the tree again until y'get home." The wiggling Momo is plucked from the redhead's face and quickly encased in the scarf until it resembles something like a swaddled furry baby. "Now make sure y'go home quick-like. Y'need me to take you over?"
The girl does not answer, squinting at Gwen instead. Comparing. Contrasting.
"Are you a summoner, then?"
"... I'm a courier," replies Gwen.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
"Lady Tuila," repeats the Light Seraph. The way she enunciates the name is gentle in the way a parent could make a child think anything is possible.
"A very strong name, for a very strong girl."
Mommy says only really special people become summoners.
"It is a mantle taken up only by the most brave of people. But most importantly... the most compassionate. It requires a good heart."
Crouched as she is, Liath exudes an infectious sense of assurance. Her shield bobs upward once, as if to indicate the struggles of the legendary Super Courier above them.
"And I would say someone willing to court the fury of the elements and great heights besides to save the precious pet of a stranger has a more than good heart. Wouldn't you, Lady Tuila?"
It is then that Gwen lands, grimly facehugged by the loving claws of Tuila's cat. Liath looks up with big, gold, blinking eyes, head tilt. "I... did not know it was custom here to wear felines as facewear. Is this some manner of comfort?"
But whatever her musing may amount to, it ends there as Gwen swiftly dispatches her ridealong within the warm comforts of a scarf-based cat burrito. Liath observes the interplay between the girl and Gwen in silence, shield still held aloft between her and the relentless batter of moisture-thickened raindrops.
Are you a summoner? asks the girl.
... I'm a courier, replies Gwen.
Liath's brows furrow inward.
"Oh?" she begins, as if she somehow had cause to doubt such a thing--
"Hm. I did not think that summoners would require a courier. Unless... their Aeons must be delivered to them following the successful completion of their trial? But would that not be woefully inefficient? And how would one carry a beast of such magnitude and ferocity such a distance...?"
She seems to have assumed a lot out of a very little.
"... It seems I know less of the rituals of this land than I had originally thought... hm."
It's a gift, and a curse.
"Perhaps they utilize the giant cuccos I am told roam this land..."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"Liath's a pretty name too! Like a song!" The girl interlaces the fingers of her hands as she does a twirl on one foot, taking pains to make the hem of her dress spin out like the petals of a flower. "Liaaaathhh~ like that."
That's about when Gwen, possible summoner and novice cat whisperer, makes her landing. "More 'bout the comfort of the cat than it is the comfort of me," she replies to Liath, once her mouth is no longer obscured by a furry tummy. "But this'll make sure she stays in one spot. Hate t'go up that tree again." Handing the purrito to Tuila's eager hands, Gwen rubs at the now exposed-feeling side of her neck, feeling the subtle raised edges of the ancient scar there as Tuila busys herself with the matter of Momo's health, still dry under the umbrella of Liath's shield.
Seeing the Seraph's gentle manner, and how she interacts with the young girl, Gwen softly smiles. The faded ends on that blonde hair... could this woman be a Seraph? It would not be beyond reason for a woman with these mannerisms to be a Seraph, especially as they are unable to benefit from the invisibility they would normally have among people who weren't spiritually aware.
"Oh, uh, wait. You two thought I was a summoner?" She raises a hand. "Nah, I just got here. But I am someone who gets summoned, to deliver things. Like packages, n' letters, n' things people need to get to other people." Holding up her left index finger, Gwen continues. "These aren't as pretty or as awe-inspirin' as an Aeon, but I summon the ability for people t'be in touch with one another." A pause. "... Well, I mean, I would, but I'm still gettin' set up here. But I bet I *could* deliver an Aeon! I've delivered lots of things!"
Gwen is not actually confident she could deliver an Aeon, but the answer makes Tuila giggle, and that, in spite of the feel of rain on her shoulders and the sting of kitten claw marks on her face, makes it all worth the white lie.
"N' that's exactly why I need to get a chocobo. Maybe, I could summon a giant chocobo..." She rubs her chin, looking at Liath. "We're both learnin', n' that's the fun part! Ah, oh, I should introduce myself, eheh." She holds out a hand. "I'm Gwen Whitlock, super courier. Well, hopefully soon I can call myself that." She winks at Tuila. "It's an important job, after all!"
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
More 'bout the comfort of the cat than it is the comfort of me.
There is a moment, during Gwen and Tuila's fated cat exchange, where Liath falls silent and that sharp, gilded gaze falls on the courier with an expression difficult to read. It looks pensive, almost -- but piercing, too, in the way someone with countless years of experience can see through a thing.
"Mm."
Her head tilts, slowly.
"... So they do not require delivery after all. I see. That is... not unexpected, I suppose."
And just like that, it's over.
Why does she sound so subtly disappointed--??
With that, she rises back up onto her feet with the smooth push of her armored heels against the rain-slicked earth beneath her. Her thoughtful (let down) frown is soon replaced by a warm and knowing look soon enough as Gwen continues on. The (super (cat)) courier might not believe in her ability to perform an escort quest for an entire Aeon; but Liath's following words --
"If there was one who could, I've no doubt it would be you."
-- sounds utterly serious, and utterly convinced, despite having only known Gwen for what amounts to a handful of minutes.
"Though perhaps you ought to revise your method of escort, if you should. I do not think your face would serve as suitable transport for such creatures."
Now that -- that is considerably harder to determine how serious Liath is.
Though the little smile she shares with Tuila shortly thereafter might reveal volumes.
"Well met, Lady Gwen," greets the Light Seraph moments later, free, armored hand pressed to her chest as she dips her body just slightly with the bob of her shield above. "You may call me Liath. It would seem I am encountering a number of summoned peoples in this land." She looks genuinely intrigued by this, the wonder in her gaze practically contagious. "It is remarkable, is it not? A land long thought lost, but so clearly not lost at all." Her eyes cast down to Tuila and Momo, her expression gentled. "No. It is very much alive. And full of many surprises, besides. In moments like this, it is hard not to believe the hand of fate might be at work."
Her head cants, in the direction of Kilika; her brows furrow.
"... But I do not think it wise to hold conversation such as this while exposed to these elements. It matters very little for me... but you court nothing but cold, standing out here. Perhaps an escort is in order."
She does not offer, herself. She doesn't budge from her spot, for now. It seems that ball is in Gwen's court. Along with --
"But what, then, is the qualifications of a 'super courier'? Is cho...koh...bow summoning one such requirement?"
She sounds genuinely, guilelessly curious.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
That sharp, pensive gaze, a thing that feels like it cuts to the quick without saying an utter word.
Gwen throws up her hands nervously. "W-well, I mean. I dunno? Maybe they do need to be delivered. I'm learnin' all this myself, after all."
But if there was a possibility, even the smallest one, in the next moment, gazing onto the graceful Liath as she raises, saying those words with such confidence-
The astonished Gwen's freckled cheeks suddenly feel hot, even as the cool rain pelts down on them.
She quickly glances away, running a hand over the side of her face. "... I wish I could, if it could heal a lot of the wounds this area has. Especially the ones we caused."
Tuila cradles the wrapped, squirming Momo, looking up between the tall women with a bare amount of comprehension.
Though, really, all Liath needed to bring her back was to state that next sentence, sending the girl into ripples of giggling.
Perhaps an escort is in order, in order to keep the girl's spirits high and dry. Gwen is distracted again by the Light Seraph's mannered bow, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks again, but Tuila tugs on Gwen's hand, intertwining her small fingers inbetween Gwen's gloved ones. The girl grins widely at Liath. "Thank you, Lady Liath! I hope you stay around so we can be friends!"
"Yeah, you're right. I think she needs t'get home before her mom starts worrying. I'll take care of it, no worries. You were a great help, Liath. That went a lot smoother than I though it would."
'But what, then, is the qualifications of a 'super courier'?'
Having begun to walk with the little Tuila and her charge, Gwen turns at the waist, raising a finger once again. "It requires a lotta courage, a lotta wits, and a sense to know when to throw those wits to the wind in order t'get things done." The guileless confidence wanes slightly, as Gwen realizes her mixup, but another tug from the insistent Tuila gets her back on track. "If I don't catch ya after this, it was nice meetin' ya!"
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.
If nothing else, Liath seems unfailingly and unapologetically sincere. When it comes to her bizarre observations or sudden swerving train of thought --
"I am sure. Because you have a good heart."
-- or her words of praise.
"I very much hope so as well, young Lady Tuila. I've not an ounce of doubt you shall grow to be a woman as strong as any summoner could be, no matter what you choose to be."
And so quietly does the Seraph of Light start to turn several moments after Tuila has taken Gwen in hand, in preparation for departure. Her hand falls to the ornate hilt of her ceremonial sword, resting upon its pommel as she turns her gaze eastward, away from the direction of Kilika.
"... I am afraid I have somewhere I must be for the moment," she says, after a time. When she looks back, though, her smile has all the sincere promise in the wold. "But you have my word I shall visit this place once more, soon."
Gwen and Tuila begin to walk, moments later. With the smooth pivot of her heel, Liath holsters her shield once more at her back, the smooth metal gleaming with a hundred little rivers of rainwater steaming down its impenetrable surface. She remains where she stands, however, even as the fall of thick droplets mats white-fringed bangs against her brow and cheeks; waits, until Gwen obliges her her curiosity. Her lips purse. She considers in quiet thought for a handful of wordless moments.
"Throw wits to the wind...?" she muses thoughtfully, a finger tapping at her chin. "... hm."
It's hard to say just what she's picturing right now.
Regardless, the Seraph imparts a simple but heartfelt, "It was truly heartening to meet you as well," after as Gwen is brought back to the mission at hand thanks to a diligent Tuila. A second passes, as the pair part. And then:
"If I may, Lady Gwen, a thought I would ask you to bear in mind:
"It is not a bad thing, to consider the comfort of others. Commendable, even.
"But the person who puts the comfort of others always before their own may one day cause as much harm in their boundless self-sacrifice as others would in their boundless self-interest."
She is walking, then. The rain falling endlessly around her, she lifts her head to embrace the warmth of it against her skin like one long bereft of its presence.
"... Remember to take care, Lady Gwen. There is no shame in it. There is strength."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
There's a soft wince as the pale redhead looks to the regal Seraph. A thousand quips and gentle rebuttals come to mind, but instead, Gwen slowly nods. "... Yeah. I need to remember that."
It's something she needed to remember, for certain. Throughout the deaths of Janus and his ragtag team, and of Ragnell and her dear companion K.K., through the sacrifices that were in vain-
She needed to take care of herself. What strength will she have left, if she gives it to everyone else?
".... It's heartening t'hear someone that looks and acts like you say that." She bobs her head in a small thank you, rain drops rolling down the curls of her hair. "You take care yourself." Gwen raises her hand in a small wave, slightly wiggling her fingers. "Till we meet again."
And then, the courier departs with her newest job, escorting the little Tuila back home, playfully swinging the little girl's hand as they make their way into the village proper.