(no subject)

[fluffiest_archadian]

[OOMs: Audyne is finally dealt with, shortly before much larger and stranger problems appear.]

It's been a very mixed week.

Sherral looks very, very slightly disheveled as he enters today, although that is probably largely a combination of his hair having grown out slightly longer than he usually lets it, the reddish cut over his eye that the white mages couldn't do anything about, and the fact that he has spent his day hurrying from urgent war meeting to full checks on the defences of the city to further urgent war meetings.

He's just come from one, which is why he's in full uniform, and also why he looks highly disgruntled.

Which is not even getting started on how the several entirely new places have appeared across Ivalice, along with about three dozen totally new species of monster and what appears to be at least one sapient species - although nobody's gotten a good look at them yet, as far as Sherral knows. All, it would seem, out of thin air.

This might actually be the weirdest thing that's ever happened to Sherral.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

"Hi, Sherral," Autor says as he approaches. "What happened to your eye?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Wayward shard of magicite. My vision isn't impaired," Sherral says, reaching up to rub it lightly. "Although it does itch rather unpleasantly."

[herr_bookman]

"Oh, I see," Autor says, inclining his head. "Do you still have my sylladex?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I left it with the Bar. It would've been unwise to take it outside with me," Sherral says, and quickly beckons for Autor to follow as he approaches the Bar. He murmurs a few words, and Autor's sylladex appears. "Here."

[herr_bookman]

"Thank you," Autor says, taking the book gratefully. "Thanks for keeping it safe. Why are you in uniform?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"War meetings," Sherral says mildly. "Mostly regarding reinforcing the city's Paling and finding safe shelters for the people of Rabanastre. There's been about four today."

[herr_bookman]

"Sorry to hear that. Why do the people of Rabanastre need safe shelters?" Autor says, tilting his head.

[runningred]

Jay comes up from the garage, a drone riding each shoulder and a couple more following behind.

He spots Sherral and smiles, letting the drones know to go on without him and comes over. "Hey. You look like you're having a rough week?" He follows that up with a kiss in the cheek.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"And you've apparently acquired a small gaggle of machines," Sherral notes with some amusement. "But aye, you could say that. A strange week besides."

[runningred]

"Yeah, I kinda have. And that's only a handful of them. There are twenty five of them living in the workshop now." Not that he sounds overly put out by that.

"So what's going on?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"How'd that end up happening?" Sherral asks, tilting his head.

He rubs the back of his head, lifting a shoulder. "Well, I killed Audyne. Shortly after that, rather - strange problems started happening. An ancient tower on the sea exploded, and several, er, new places appeared all over Ivalice."

[runningred]

"Long story. Turned the few I found here were refugees from some kind of planetary holocaust. Gav and I took one of them back to see what could be salvaged and found a bunch of survivors. Been repairing and rebuilding drones ever since. Now they're working on rebuilding their society."

Jay listens, eyebrow raised. "New places? That doesn't sound good."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You are an absolute bleeding heart," Sherral says fondly. "I would offer to help, but I know naught about machinery. I can always hand you tools should you so need them."

He sighs, rubbing at the cut above his eye. It itches horribly.

"Most of them are buildings or small towns. The two biggest ones are an entire floating continent in the border-skies, and a city several times larger than any other city in Ivalice, situated in the exact same place that legend says the city of the gods was in. There was a Mist storm there before that nobody could enter, but the actual city is apparently far, far too large to have been hidden by it."

[student_of_impossibility]

"Do you want help with the eye?"

Seriously, who needs regular salutations.

Tavi recognizes that look. Oh, does he ever. From expression to dishevelment to uniform and armor, to that entire look of getting brand new crap dropped on one's head out of nowhere. He knows what unending weirdness looks like.

He's a little pale himself, though otherwise more or less energized beneath his full armor and uniform.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I should hardly want to miss out on the charming and characterful scar, would I," Sherral says, not least because people have been prodding at his face a lot for some time now, and it's hardly a big deal. "You seem somewhat unwell. Only somewhat."

What is tact?

We just don't know.

[student_of_impossibility]

Tact is for idiotic political or diplomatic situations where people can't just say what's on their minds.

"Not too much so," Tavi shrugs. "I only need some rest--and red meat. Would it do you any good?" He is totally up for a joint Nutrient Replenishing Session.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I would hardly turn it down. And I might have forgotten to eat so far today anyhow," Sherral says, which can be fairly taken as a thumbs up to the joint Nutrient Replenishing Session.

[student_of_impossibility]

"That bad?" Tavi asks dryly. He's had those days--too many of them, too often, the last few years. As he asks, he flags down a waitrat.

He will order red meat, greens, and spiced cider. He's starving.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"A war's just started and several new places have appeared from thin air around Ivalice," Sherral says, as a quick and concise summary. "What about you?"

[morethanprops]

Moist is having a bad day, someone punched him, its cold and raining when a stable door turns into Milliways and he sags against the door.

When he sees Sherral he walks over, slowly, "Hello, you look like you've been through the wars."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"As do you. Did you get on somebody's bad side, Mister Spangler?" Sherral asks, taking a seat and gesturing for Moist to sit down with him.

[morethanprops]

"A small misunderstanding. What about you?"

He sits down and loosens his tie before searching for a rat, he could use a drink. His nice tweed suit is mud splattered and even has some blood on it.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral takes a moment to take in the mud splatters and blood. "That hardly looks like a small misunderstanding."

[morethanprops]

"Medium sized, no one called in the guards," That's the point of no return in his opinion.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"What exactly prompted this misunderstanding?" Sherral asks. "If you want some tea, as well, do say."