#then hit up ramora :)

[acevity]

MAKING you guys look at funny dragon rp art. all of these guys are adopts/gifts to others except the first one :)

[ladyramora]

Magical School AU- Prefects to the rescue!

The WOL had their back against the wall as Zenos stood over them, smiling darkly, "Come now, beast, are you not going to bare your fangs at me?"

His lackey Asahi was working as a look out in case of teachers and their friends, not that they'd be out in the halls during class. The reason they had left was because they were feeling unwell and had been heading to the nurse's office. But just because he was useless as a look out didn't mean his position didn't put them in a bad spot, as he was blocking their only means of an exit.

The WOL gripped their bag, uneasy and uncertain if they could take on this massive wall of hunk, they had been bested when at their top form and today they felt positively ill. 

Zenos's smile grew as he leaned closer, the WOL grabbed at their weapon in their bag. They still had no idea if they could even last a moment, but there was probably no other way past these two...

"WAGGHHHHH!!" Asahi's voice cried, WOL and Zenos both looking to where the short Hyur had once been standing as the sound of heels suddenly started getting louder.

"I've told you time and time again, Asahi." A sweet voice said, "No loitering in the halls, especially when you should be in class!"

Two girls stepped into the hallway and turned to look at them. One was tall with skin that reminded the WOL of an early evening sky and the dark hair to match, her bright red lipstick surrounding a smile that could melt anyone into a moldable puddle, "It looks like this is more than just Loitering." She purred in a voice that sent shivers down their spine as she made her way down the hall, a pin catching the WOL's eye... just the pin, not her bosom. The pin... and her bosom.

This person was a Prefect! One of the more powerful students who had special permission to wander the halls during class time and were allowed to dole out punishments to troublemakers.

And of course she would ooze sex appeal like Zenos oozed of that intoxicating cologne. 

"Bullying! I should have known!" The smaller one said, she looked like a pink picture of sweet as she followed her companion over towards them, the smell of baked goods becoming stronger as the distance between their two groups closed and the glint of the Prefect pins shined on their blazers.

Sex Appeal and Sweets, the WOL couldn't tell if they were horny, hungry or just delusional from their illness.

Zenos backed away from them and moved to the opposite side of the hallway as the two women arrived, the taller one blocking Zeno's exit with a heel to the wall beside him and grabbed at his tie, bringing him to her eye level, "I think someone here is just asking for a spanking..." 

The WOL blinked, shocked at how easily she had just turned the tables on that guy, Zenos seemed just as surprised by the action. But the WOL was taken out of their stupor as the smaller of the duo gently tugged at their sleeve, "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No." They said, their voice barely a whisper.

"Hmm..." the smaller one's hands were gentle as they touched their forehead, her fingers refreshingly cool as her eyes widened, "Oh you poor thing, you have a fever!" She turned to her companion, "Rammy, I'm going to take this one to the nurse, so please don't rush the punishment."

"Why Lolzy, I wouldn't dream of it." 'Rammy' replied, pulling Zenos' closer to her by his tie, "I have plenty in store for him, don't you worry."

Zenos seemed a bit confused, but did not seem disappointed at the WOL slipping out of his grasp. The WOL didn't know if they should be grateful or worried as 'Lolzy' led them out.

"Don't worry." She said softly, "Ramora is no push over, she can take anything that guy throws at her and hit him twice as hard. I'll make sure you get proper treatment and you just focus on getting some rest, okay?"

"Thank you." The WOL managed, their vison starting to blur as they made their way to the nurse.

the next thing they knew, they were falling asleep on a bed in the nurse's office.

The next day, they were feeling better enough to have visitors and their friends came rushing in to see them.

"I'm certainly glad you're feeling better." Alphinaud said, "I've been meaning to introduce some of the other members of our house to you."

"Oh?" The WOL said, curious.

He smiled and nodded before motioning towards the door.

"My friend, meet Ramora D'aubigne and Lolz Waitwhat." He said, motioning to the two women they had met before.

"The pleasure is all mine." Ramora said with a predatory glint in her eye as she seemed to look them up and down.

"Glad to see you're feeling better!" Lolz said cheerfully as she held out a plate with a slice of their favorite rolanberry cake and a fork to them, "Thancred said this one was your favorite, so I brought you a slice!"

"Consider it our late welcome gift to you." Ramora chuckled, "We look forward to working with you." Lolz nodded and said, "And don't you worry, those bullies won't pick on you again with us around, you can count on it!"

The WOL simply nodded as they wordlessly excepted the plate, wondering if there truly was some rule in the handbook about how everyone in this damned place had to be so attractive!

(I just wanted to play with this AU again. Don't judge me)

Submitted by @lolzwaitwhat

[thegreatmeddler]

Coats & Boots

Original Story

“Gather ‘round, tu carriot,” the old woman called out.

She looked frail and worn out, her boisterous robes and bejeweled rings sparkled in the soft light though, and it was obvious that despite her delicate frame, she was a dignified lady. Her face was reminiscent of a skeleton and the paleness of her taut skin rivaled the moon’s pearly white.

The children sat in a circle around her and the nearby boxes. These were their supplies and clothes. The government’s mandatory help to the orphanages.

This orphanage in particular was one of the oldest in Antinon’s Ramora Isles. It was not favored, however, because of its close proximity to the Ocean. The fear of children drowning steered people away from this place.

Nowadays, only the orphans of questionable individuals were sent here. Sometimes poor families gave away their children, protecting them from starvation and thinning the already little rations.

The old woman was only the heiress of a noble family. She had been furious to find out that before their death, her parents had been neck deep in overwhelming debts. After they were collected, all that was left was an old fashioned, gaudy building.

She had lost every bit of fortune she had once been in possession of, so she had had no choice but to take advantage of the only boon she had. Those days, orphanages were showered in wealth and high budgets; she had had no doubts that there would be some leftovers for her to use to her whim. She could have built up a new life.

However, she was still in this hell. Old, wrinkly and about to turn to dust. She was only a waif now. She had nothing but these children and this wretched house.

“Winter approaches, tu carriot,” she spoke. Her voice was heavily accented and hoarse from constant use. “Choose your clothes.”

In the boxes were several bundles of coats and pairs of snow boots.

The children leaped onto them like salivating dogs. There was kicking, shoving, biting and a few punches here and there; not even the girls had held back.

Everyone got a pair of footwear and something to keep their back warm.

All but one.

“Don’t we have to give Shadow some?” Nefari asked, her wide eyes widening further.

“But there are no coats left,” Balat said. “Maybe we can give her those old shoes.” he offered.

“Let’s.” Nefari agreed. They picked up the last boots and went upstairs to the attic.

Contrary to its outward appearance, the orphanage wasn’t durable. The few furnitures inside were wooden and the floorboards creaked at the smallest touch. As the two children climbed the staircase, they shivered in fear.

“Do we have to?” Nefari whispered in the hall’s silence. Balat dragged her by the wrists, “Yeah, otherwise Matron Cecil’s gonna yell us all, if she finds out Shadow didn’t get any.”

They stopped in front of a door with no knob and knocked, hesitant. The sharp sound echoed ominously. The utter quiet in the empty corridor and the distant sound of winds merged, and the door opened.

The one who answered was a small girl. She was as pale as the old woman, her joints were bony and her limbs lacked the healthy flush of life. Her teeth chattered silently and from the slight shivers that wracked her body, she was cold and had been for a while.

“Here,” Nefari extended the pair of boots to her. Both she and Balat were standing a feet away from the tiny kid. “Take them.”

She stared at them apathetically. Her gaze was blank and wistful, but it looked as though she was wandering in her own little world.

Slowly and carelessly, she took hold of the boots and wore them. They were warm, at least.

The two children ran back downstairs at lightning speed, crying out for the matron. She watched them go. She didn’t mind.

She had been waiting for the winter supplies to arrive for a long time. There weren’t any coats left but she had gotten boots, and she had managed previous winters just fine as she was. They were enough. It was never too cold anyway, at the seaside.

She took her blanket just in case.

Shadow closed the door with a loud creaking sound and walked to the little, circular window that led to the roof.

She could feel the roughness of the tiles in her palms and the fresh, biting chill of the wind through her hair, hitting her face and blowing by her ears. She made quick work of climbing to the top and inching closer to the corner of the unstable surface.

At last, she was able to see the ground. It was high enough that, should she miscalculate, she could break her neck with the force of falling. Probably.

Then she saw the empty boxes a few meters to the right. She could quite possibly jump on them and survive the impact of she slipped.

‘Let’s do this.’

She hadn’t counted the fact that it would create noise, for all her planning.

“Who’s there?!” the matron yelled. She had a lantern on one hand and the monthly Cloudless Sky, somehow fitting the image of a banshee from the legends.

Shadow didn’t stay around to find out more, however. She dashed as soon as the boxes tumbled down in a gigantic heap against the stone wall.

With her thin blanket tucked into her shirt and panting from the exhaustion, she must have seemed noticeably ridiculous, indeed. But she ignored her self conscious thoughts and savored the feeling of chilling wind meeting with her heated face and cooling her sweaty hands. It was hard to run so abruptly after staying in an inert state inside her room for weeks, so she didn’t fight when her muscles burnt from overuse and screamed at her to stop. She slowed down bit by bit, her thighs getting heavier and the sensation of dewy grass cutting her ankles registering.

It must have been an hour or so before she recovered from her sudden sprint, because when she turned around to see of someone had followed her, the sky was considerably darker, far more enchanting with millions of tiny fragments of crystals glittering from its depths and the sun was setting on the far horizon.

She liked it here. The sky was peaceful, simple. She wanted to give away her troubles to it she could get a bit of rest. She wanted to hide behind its inky drapes for all eternity.

But that wasn’t quite fair, was it?

She couldn’t do it to the sky. It was already carrying everything; the stars, the sun, the clouds, the moon... She would just be extra burden. She had to stand upright.

She stood back up with great difficulty. She could still feel the buzzing ache in her legs and her lungs. But she had to move on. Sooner or later, they would notice the Shadow gone and look for her. Paranoia fuled her and she began walking towards the hills ahead.

It was such a shame she was in such a hurry to leave. The meadows surronding the shore were such a pretty sight, although the liveliness of it was gone and the landscape was starting to grey, she couldn’t but appreciate that she had grown up here.

She was far away from the old, mouldy building now. If she looked back, all she could see would be vast, endless meadows and odd numbered hills.

But as she tilted her head to the side, she was suddenly aware of a tiny black blob on a high hill by the Ocean. She began walking again, albeit faster.

Shadow’s room in the orphanage was dark and dusty and cramped with broken furniture. The only openings were the creaking door and the small window that led to the worn roof. From up there, she had always had a breath taking view of the unending waves and the blue tide. Somedays, if the sky was clear and she squinted enough, she could see a small cliff by the shore, far, far away. That place had always been as mysterious as the dark, vague remains of a dream. She had longed to see beyond the green meadows and the blue waters and satiate her boiling curiosity.

She had made up stories about that place, dreamed about it and daydreamed of going there to have adventures. Sometimes, when she felt particularly courageous, she would imagine that there was an entrance for an underground cave on top of the cliff. She would sigh and dream of hidden alcoves and glittering fish in small ponds.

As she approached the cliff, though, she realized that it was much, much bigger than she had thought. She felt excitement simmering beneath her skin and found the strength to go a little faster.

The climb to the top was gruelling. For every step she took, gravity pulled her back half. When she finally reached the summit, she took in the place.

The cliff, as it seemed, wasn’t all the special. There were hardly any differences from an ordinary hill. The grass wasn’t as colorful as it would have been had it been spring but it was definately greener than the orphanages’s dull garden. Near the cliff’s edge, sat a boy with hair as black as the starless sky he was sitting against. His back faced her and he was as still as a statue.

“Hello,” she greeted. She wasn’t sure ‘good night’ counted as a greeting. “I thought this place was smaller.”

The boy glanced at her briefly, continuing to gaze upon the navy view. “It is not.” he muttered.

He was dry as the summer wind, but it was okay for her. It was a new experience.

“I’m going to sit here, is it alright?” He just grunted. She took out her soft, blue blanket from underneath her shirt and presented it, holding from two ends. “We can share it if you want.”

The boy didn’t reply for a while and he looked at her with hesitant eyes. In the end, he shrugged lightly and fiddled with the tails of his coat. “It is fine,” he said. “I have my coat.” He tripped over his words a bit.

She walked to his side; however, seeing as the grass, along with being greener here, was more damp as well, she spread the blanket underneath her and sat, burrowing her feet under its layers.

“Not cold?” he asked, scowling. She blinked at him and made a curious ‘hum’ sound, “What is not cold?”

“You,” he deadpanned. “You have no coat.”

“It’s not like I can take yours. I’ve got no choice.”

He grunted.

Shadow decided they could have been friends, if he had lived close to the orphanage. She had, at times, seen good friendships develop back home. Some would be so good friends that they didn’t even need to talk. During lonely nights, lying on her moth infested mattress, she would be green with envy, dreaming of a future when she didn’t have to hide behind closed doors.

The boy shrugged off one arm of his coat and held it out to her, “Come in.”

“Won’t you get cold?” she countered, but nevertheless, sliding in gingerly. “I’m sweaty too.”

“No trouble.” he said. The silence stretched and they spent a while just watching the waves crashing against the dense rocks.

“I am Grim,” he introduced. “You?”

“I don’t have a name.” she said. Grim made a perplexed face, his forehead wrinkling. “They didn’t give me one.”

“What about your mother?”

“I don’t have a mom.” He hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the wet grass, water droplets splashing on his hand. “What do you like?” he inquired at last, turning his head to look at her.

Shadow took a look around. She considered the sea; it was always moving, so blue and deep and angry. She had always wished to go near it.

“I like the sea,” she said at last. “It’s so free.” Grim hummed again and muttered something under his breath, she didn’t recognize the word. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Sea,” he clarified. “Simé. Do you like it?”

“Not really,” she answered. “It doesn’t... fit.”

“What else do you like?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I am going to name you,” he said, exasperated. “It is annoying, I do not want to call you ‘hey you’.”

She pondered some more. She had to admit that having a name was a delightfully appealing thought. She compared herself to the things she often saw. But they didn’t fit. They were free.

They called her Shadow, though, so the others must think that it fit her. A shadow wasn’t free after all. It was tied to the body.

“Shadow,” she suggested. Grim bit his lip and glared hard at the rolling ocean beneath them, thinking hard.

“Eona.” he told her.

“Eona,” she parroted, tasting the feel of it. “Eona.”

It was such a strange feeling, the thought of merging with this new, foreign entity. However foreign it was, it fit. She could feel a piece of herself in it. An excited greeting with a life-long companion.

Perfect fit.

“Thank you,” she said, with the most sincere gratitude she had ever felt. “I’m Eona.” He nodded at her, seemingly content.

As the night went on, she decided that this was a night to be remembered, so she plucked a blade of green grass and extended it to him. He stared, bemused.

“Hold it tight,” she told him. Eona was excited for this. He seemed unimpressed. “It’s important.”

In the end, he did. Eona pulled it fast and it snapped into two pieces in their hands.

“Whisper about yourself and make a promise, then throw it to the Ocean.” she instructed. She had just made it up but it felt like a big deal. A moment that had the world stopping.

Grim rose an eyebrow and gazed intently at the piece of freshly picked grass. It was still dewy with the dawn air and sharp like knives. He sighed once, muttered lowly, then promptly let it fly out of his hand and into the bright waters.

“You?” he dared, his eyes accusing. Eona held it in her palms, brought it closer to her chapped lips and uttered silently,

“I’m Eona,” she mouthed against it. “It’ll be a long time before everyone forgets me.” She opened her clasped hands and blew it away. It flitted about in the air for a few moments and took a direct dive towards the restless waves.

She realized that even if she ran away from the orphanage, she wouldn’t be able to do anything. She would be a burden to be taken care of.

She could only hope that they didn’t close off the trapdoor to the roof.

As she walked back to the orphanage, she thought back to Grim. He was a nice boy, if a bit dry. She wished that she could have stayed a little longer, she had enjoyed speaking with him.

When she reached the front gates, Matron Cecil was already waiting there, reading the monthly Cloudless Sky on a rickety stool.

“There you are,” she sighed in relief and rushed to her side. “Where have you been? We’ve been knocking on your door  for an hour now-”

Eona tuned her out. Her mind wandered to her new friend and conjured an image of his mother’s hand curling around his bony wrist and dragging him home. ‘I’m sorry...’ he had mumbled out.

“Cecil...” she adressed with a scratchy voice. “I don’t want to be adopted.” The matron gaped, startled.

“You... Why?” she asked, concerned. “Is it about the other kiddos? Don’t worry, even if they are adopted first-”

“No, I just...” Eona’s heart constricted. “...don’t want to be adopted.”

The matron gave in. “Alright,” she said. “It’s your choice, I see.”

She didn’t. But that was okay. Eona didn’t mind.

“Even so, we need to hurry to breakfast, or there won’t be any left for you.”

“Just like the coats?” She asked, striding along the hallway to the dining hall.

Matron nods. “Just like the coats.” she confirmed.

Their footsteps echoed away...

[ladyramora]

Snapped

[[MORE]]

"Does that answer your question?" Emet-Selch drawls, hand still raised high from the snap of his fingers.

Her reaction is... rather underwhelming.

She is entirely unbothered. How dull. He had hoped for a bit of entertainment. Anger or embarrassment, something along those lines.

Instead the woman only glances down, blinking languidly and then directs a smile in his direction. "Huh. You must be a hit at sexy dinner parties."

Emet-Selch stares at her, eyes squinting and eyebrows arching. "...Sexy dinner parties?"

Ramora nods. "You know. Fancy dress, delicious food, and then lots of sex." She pauses, looking him over consideringly. "You have lived forever, so I'm sure you've experienced practically every sexual act known to man. I mean, that's what I would do. Sex, and also food. Ohh, just thinking about all the food you must have tasted, I'm jealous! ....You do eat food, don't you?"

Emet-Selch stares at her, head tilting. This one was... odd. For all the lifetimes he had lived, even he struggled to puzzle together her reactions and motivations. Irritating enough that he could not See her as he Saw every other. As he Saw every one of her precious Scions. Sickly, shattered; pathetic things.

"Of course I eat food. And I have experienced a great many things that you could not possibly imagine."

There it was again. That expectant look. Eager and smiling as if she truly wished to hear all that he had to say.

Emet-Selch can by no means indulge her. She was far too comfortable around him already. As if they were actually friends! As if they could ever be on equal footing to be so. It was maddening. She had ulterior motives, surely. Well, he would not play into her hands.

He would not be drawn in as Elidibus had been, nor fall prey in the manner of his great grandson.

Oh, Zenos would most assuredly deny it. But to him it was plain as day.

Zenos, that desperate, lonely child had more often than not become lost to his obsessive fixations. This time was no different. Except now it was with a woman; though gender did not truly matter. No, it was only that she was a Warrior capable of standing her own against the garlean prince. It could only ever end in tragedy.

And though he felt no particular fondness for the boy, it was with a sense of pity that Emet-Selch came to understand that this woman standing before him would more than likely be the one to walk away from their final encounter whenever it came about. If it ever did at all, of course.

As it was now, she was an important piece in his own game, and his dear great grandson was not invited to play.

"....return my clothing?"

Emet-Selch looks up from his musings. Ah, had she been speaking to him this whole time? It surely did not matter, but he would have her repeat herself just the same.

"What are you wanting now?"

The woman eyes him, but dutifully repeats herself. "Am I to remain naked, or do you intend to return my clothing?"

Emet-Selch meets her stare with a mocking smile. "I merely answered your question, my dear. I can, as you say, snap clothing off as well as on."

He gestures to her, well, everything as if to say 'see?'.

Ramora laughs. A low, calculated sound. Were Emet-Selch a lesser being, he might feel a prickle of unease.

"You will give them back, darling. Unless you're looking for a little excitement..?" The danger in her smile turns outright lascivious.

Emet-Selch curls his lip. Ha. "Only in your dreams, my dear. And perhaps not even then."

Ramora cocks her hip, unabashed in her nudity even as she demands, "My clothes, Emet-Selch. I went through quite the ordeal to match that particular glamour."

Emet-Selch looks her up and down, sneering. "Have you nothing else to wear in that inventory bag of yours?" He rolls his eyes, shooing her away. "Go on, hero. I am not here to amuse you and all your many whims. In fact, I bore of you."

Ramora's smile could be described as pleasant. If you were a fool.

Emet-Selch was no fool. And yet he is still taken by surprise as the duskwight's hands whip out to grasp him by the collar, yanking him in.

Emet-Selch glowers at her, gloved hands closing over hers where she clutched at his collar.

"I ask again, and this will be my last attempt at civility. " Ramora says with a smile full of teeth. The look in her eyes reminds him eerily of his great grandson. She, too, had the eyes of a monster. No, no... It was not only that. There, with eyes that could See, does Emet-Selch spy a sliver of darkness peeking out from the shroud hiding her soul from him. Darkness that should not rightly be there.

"Ohh, now that is interesting..." Emet-Selch murmurs, staring into mismatched eyes that ringed in angry red. "I do wonder if your Exarch realised he brought forth not only you to the First, but a stow away of the Void, as well."

He raises his hand again, prepared to snap as he offers most generously, "Shall I do you a favor and rid you of this aether hungry parasite?" The Voidsent would most assuredly die now without a host, but it was of little matter.

Ramora's reaction is entirely unexpected. Her hands tighten on his collar and she snarls in his face with red eyes and a pop of fangs. "No!"

"Ohh?" That truly was interesting. What fools these mortals be. Pathetic, clinging things that grew attached to any creature they spent any significant amount of time with.

"You would keep it? Even though the mere presence of such a creature will bring you only suffering?" Emet-Selch pauses, incredulous, and then laughs. Off beat and unhinged. "Eheheh... Ahaha...!! Don't tell me you've grown fond of it?!"

Her expression is telling enough. She was. She had developed sentimental feelings for an aether hungry monster.

"Ohh, you poor thing. I may not be able to see the depths of your surely sickly, sundered soul, but I can see how very pitiful you are. So desperate for companionship that you would even hold fast to the very instruments that spell your doom."

Again she does not react in the way he expects. He is met with laughter instead of anger. The red fading from her eyes as she releases him.

"...So what if I am desperate? Lonely, even." Ramora shrugs carelessly. "We all are. Even you, Emet-Selch."

A hot bubble of rage rises in his chest. She dared? "You presume to know me...?"

Ramora shakes her head. "I don't. But I see it in you just the same. That look in your eye, and on your face when you think no one is watching. You're missing someone. Or something. Family, mayhap. Or the place you call home?"

This conversation was nearing it's end.

Emet-Selch raises his hand up, snapping his fingers sharply. "There," he spits. "I've done as you've asked, hero. Now leave me be."

Ramora glances down in surprise, not having felt a thing as her clothing materialized again.

Emet-Selch is already walking away when she looks up, shoulders hunched in his usual slouch.

"Wait," Ramora calls out to him.

Emet-Selch stops, but does not turn.

"...Thanks."

The Ascian waves flippantly over his shoulder. By Zodiark, he could really use a nap.

[ladyramora]

It starts with a bar fight.

Ramora, drunk enough to ignore her Echo, and angry with her situation and the general way life - or the Gods, or Fate, or what-the-fuck ever - seemed to seemed to want to screw her over. What does she do? She does what she does best. She makes it worse because that's what she's good at.

She starts the fight.

Sometimes the biggest, angriest looking guy in the establishment is the most sensitive, and insulting him only makes him burst into tears with the "last bloody straw!"

Damn, was he having a bad day, too? Ramora just feels like an asshole until his friends jump to his defense and start swinging.

There's glass in her hair from where more than one angry patron tried to take her out with a bottle. It only made her smell like ale, and left her feeling just a tick more annoyed.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," Ramora says to the actually not so grumpy looking Roegadyn man, in between punching and kneeing his midlander buddies in the face and stomach respectively, and sending them stumbling into each other.

"I didn't mean any of the rude things I said," Ramora continues, tripping one mindlander when he gets back up and making him fall into the other. "I was just trying to make you angry enough to start a fight."

The Roegadyn's face crumples again with tears as he buries his face in his hands and bawls, "It's all right, I've just," sob, deep shuddering sigh, "had a rough couple of days!"

Ramora frowns, patting him gently on the shoulder and getting walloped in the face for her inattention. She can feel her nose crunch, wetness dripping over her lips. That'll hurt to fix later.

One tries to grab hold of her from behind, but Ramora flips him over her shoulder to land flat on his back on the tavern floor. The other straight on tackles her, going for her middle, but not getting far as Ramora digs her heels in and bends forward to grasp him by the waist, disrupting his grip and tossing him away. It was unfair to them, really, being that she was so much taller. Well, that, and a slayer of actual Gods.

"Do you wanna talk about your feelings?" The Roegadyn says with a tearful frown, "You seem real angry, lady. It might help to let it out?"

Ramora pauses. "I've got some heavy troubles, buddy. I think I prefer the violent method of venting."

The Roegadyn sighs, shrugging his shoulders and scrubbing away his tears on his sleeve. "Suit yourself."

Suddenly the other two get wise, ganging up in her instead of coming one at a time, and grasp her arms before she can send them stumbling away again.

Ramora grunts as the Roegadyn catches her by the collar, yanking her in as he raises his fist. He smiles sheepishly. "I know you already apologized, but mind if I hit you a few times anyways? This is the most stress relief I've had in a bloody fortnight."

Ramora shrugs even as she scrabbles at his hand fisted in her coat. "Sure, buddy, that's the idea!" It should be concerning that Ramora preferred being punched in the face over talking about her feelings, but here she was.

The Roegadyn beams and Ramora thinks she might've just made a new friend as he makes like he said and punches her across the face.

Ramora tongues her teeth in surprise, lip definitely split. "Nice punch," She says in mild praise.

The Roegadyn laughs, "Thanks," and raises his arm to do it again.

"Enough!" The Barkeep roars, shooting into the ceiling with a pistol.

They all freeze.

"You!" The Barkeep snaps, stabbing his finger in Ramora's direction. "I've had about enough o' you comin' in here to start fights! Yer disturbin' my clientele and wreckin' my establishment!"

Ramora grimaces. "Sorry? It won't happen again?"

The Barkeep's eye twitches, face flushing bright red with a vein bulging in his forehead. "That's what you say every bloody time! I'm done forgiving you! Get out, and take yer new friends with ya!"

"Can I get some ice for my face?" Ramora asks meekly.

If looks could kill. "Get!"

Ramora and her brawling partners scramble to comply.

- - -

Ramora sighs, sitting in a filthy alley just outside the bar, alone now. Her new friends having taken their leave after much apologies all around.

"Look at you," She grumbles to herself. "Can't even start a bar fight properly. Your life is going to Hell. Guess that's what you get for making a deal with an Ascian."

Ramora buries her face in her hands, the heavy pressure of tears building behind her eyelids.

A shadow falls over her, and Ramora does not look up.

"What a sad sight you are," A familiar voice drawls.

Ramora laughs wetly. "Go away, Elidibus."

There's a heavy pause.

"Have I been gone for so long that you've forgotten my name, woman?"

Ramora freezes, head jerking up in shock as hot tears stream down her bruised and bloodied face.

"...Zenos?"

An Elezen man stares down at her, his face hidden from view by the shadow of his hood. But the golden locks of hair spilling out of his coat were far too rich in shade to belong to any Elezen Ramora had ever met. And that voice, Gods, Ramora knew that voice. She dreamed of that voice.

The Elezen kneels down in front of her, pulling back his hood.

His face - Zenos's face - staring out at her from an Elezen body.

"You died," Ramora mutters thickly, holding herself taught, carefully apart, so as not to touch him, or heavens forfend, throw herself into his arms and bawl her eyes out.

He is your enemy, Ramora has to remind herself. He never cared about you. It had been naught but a manipulation on Elidibus's part.

Zenos smiles that same smile, languid and deliciously wicked. "I got better."

Ramora bites her lip, her eyes still hopelessly leaking. He must think her so weak, witnessing her in such a state."I can see that."

Zenos reaches out a hand, hardly pausing at Ramora's instinctual flinch, and grasps her wrist. Ramora blinks, very much confused, as Zenos drops a wrapped bundle of ice into her palm.

"For your face, my beast," Zenos says dryly. He does not comment on her tears.

"To think you let those unworthy fools strike you. Did it bring you relief? Forcing yourself so. Holding back so as not to kill those insignificant savages by accident? Did your blood sing as it did when we last fought?"

Ramora's more than certain his bout of questioning is rhetorical, so she says nothing.

His lip curls, the shake of his head sending golden hair spilling free from being tucked in his coat to swish around his face, "Nay, I should very much think not."

Ramora gapes at him, mouth dry and hand slowly beginning to burn from the chill of the ice in her palm. "...I felt nothing."

There was no release. No rush of blood as Zenos had claimed before. There had only been half-hearted violence, and ignoring her Echo so as to allow herself to be struck. To feel pain rather than feel nothing at all. Ramora did not wish to become numb again. Apathy was very hard to shake.

Zenos leans in, capturing her chin between his fingers. "Good. The right is mine, beast. I am your opponent. I am the only one who can give you such."

Ramora quirks a smile through the sting of her split lip. "Is that your way of telling me you want to go steady?"

Zenos grasps her by the collar and Ramora gives a soft, hissing gasp as he leans in, parts those perfect lips of his, and licks a stripe up from her chin over her lips with a velvety, warm tongue. Tasting the blood coating her skin.

What a weirdo. Yet Ramora would be lying if she said his particular brand of weirdness didn't make her hot.

There is a fire in her blood now as Zenos pulls back, seeming satisfied at the expression on her face. His voice a rumbly, satisfied growl liken to a coeurl's purr. "Your blood is mine, woman."

"Ramora," Is all Ramora can croak in response, a desperate sort of plea in the raspy quality of her voice.

Though his expression does not change, his eyes darken with heat. "Ramora," he says, obliging to her wordless plea, drawing the word out in that growling purr.

Ramora closes her eyes, swallowing thickly as she allows the sound to roll over her. To have Zenos - the real one - finally say her name was... Well, it was pretty damned good.

When she opens her eyes again, Zenos is gazing at her most peculiarly.

Peculiar only because this was Zenos. Actual Zenos, no matter what body he was in, and he was looking at her like...

Like he could devour her. Like Ramora was the most sumptuous feast he had ever laid eyes upon and he could not wait to sink his teeth in.

"What's with that look?" Ramora asks him, very much against her better judgement.

His hands circle her wrists, her ice falling to the wayside as Zenos yanks her close. "I finally caught up to you, my beast," he smiles smugly, gazing at her through the fan of his eyelashes, "Ramora. And now I'll not let you escape me again."

Ramora feels dazed by the heat of him, the heady feeling of him so close that she could touch, the scent of his skin and of his beautiful hair. Yet, "Uh, not to point fingers, but you were the one who tried - and succeeded in - killing yourself. I wasn't trying to escape. You did."

And now an Ascian - and not just any Ascian, the bloody Emissary! - was walking around in his body.

Zenos hisses a guttural sigh, his hands tightening about her wrists as he pulls her closer still. Any further and she'd be straddling his lap. "I was rash in mine decision," Zenos admits. "I made a mistake. Now I mean to fix it "

Ramora quirks a brow. Did he now.

"There's an Ascian wearing your face. Your whole body. Doing things you probably wouldn't do." Like me, Ramora doesn't say.

How would she broach that subject even?

Hey Zenos, good to see you hale and whole. I have disgustingly tender emotions for you and I've been fraternizing with the Ascian wearing your body while you've been gone. No hard feelings, right?

That would go over well.

Instead Ramora only reaches for the discarded bit of ice he had brought, brushing off the cloth before resting the cold lump against her aching face.

"What do we do now?" Ramora asks.

If Zenos is surprised by her use of "we", he gives no visible reaction of it.

Zenos only smiles, blue eyes gleaming with that particular monstrous quality she had missed from being around Elidibus in his body for so long.

"All in due time, my beast."

"Now," he leans in, smiling slow.

"Did you miss me?"

[ladyramora]

Zenos quite enjoyed the occasional excursion.

Though the requirement of a disguise was somewhat bothersome, Zenos could see the point in all of it.

Twouldn't do for all of Eorzea to be made aware of his survival. At least not if Zenos wanted to keep his head.

Still Zenos mused, the woman had taken a fiendish glee in dressing him for these outings. Often providing him with kugane styled clothing - perhaps if only to see the curl of Zenos's lips as he was forced to wear whatever she brought.

Yet it was not without some pleasurable moments. The clear admiration in the woman's gaze as he allowed her examine him was something Zenos found he quite liked.

So he allowed her this. To dress him so in the cloth of a Samurai. A hat tipped low over his face with hair carefully parted to cover his third eye.

Zenos pushes said hat up to scan the crowd, full lips pulling down as he cannot find her.

He spreads his senses out, searching for that certain feeling that only the woman gave off.

He turns his head, eyes narrowing.

Something was amiss.

He makes his way through the crowd that parts for him like so many skittering mice. Prey that intuitively sensed the presence of predator.

He finds her in a darkened corner. Her back to the wall, mismatched eyes wide and hands curled in on herself in a strange defensive posture over her throat that Zenos had never seen her make. A man loomed over her, made taller by the hunching of Ramora's shoulders, his body language conveying an easy confidence that set Zenos's teeth on edge.

The woman was unsettled by this man and that was something that Zenos could not allow.

He lengthens his stride, coming up swift behind.

Ramora spots him then, and the relief on her face is enough to spur Zenos into action.

He grasps the back of the man's kimono, tearing him away from crowding the woman, and raising him up high to shout and struggle as he addresses his confidant.

"You are unharmed?" Zenos drawls in a bored voice. As if he did not care what her answer may be. As if rage did not twist, ugly and hot in his gut. That murderous itch whispering to him: Kill, kill, kill! Rend, tear, destroy! How dare this fool think himself worthy enough to touch her?

"Zenos," The woman breathes his name like he was one of the Twelve himself.

Zenos cups her jaw, eyes narrowing into slits as his bare thumb brushes her lip. Her lipstick was smeared at the corners of her mouth. He had dared...

Zenos shakes the man in his hold, regarding him with a teeth baring sneer. "Who?" He demands in a guttural hiss.

Ramora's lips part, tongue flickering over them, "He's.."

"What the fuck are you!" The man struggling in Zenos's grasp yelps. "Some kind of monster?!"

The man laughs then, a strange unhinged sound that had Ramora tensing up further in a way Zenos did not miss.

"Of course you would shack up with a monster, wouldn't you? Monsters have to stick together, huh Ramora? The duskwight whore and her over-sized beast!" The man spits, his voice sneering her race like it was more of an insult than calling her a whore.

Brave words for a man that Zenos could easily rip in half. In fact...

Ramora's hand darts out, touching the one Zenos hand raised up in preparation to do just that.

Zenos glances at that elegantly taloned hand, looking then into her mismatched eyes with a quirk of his perfectly sculpted blond brow.

Ramora's eyes are different now. Calm. The animal instinct settling down enough for her rational mind to take hold. "Let him down, Zenos."

Zenos tightens his grip as the man dangling from his clutches cackles like a mad man. "Did you hear, monster?! Let me down!"

Zenos curls his lip. "Why."

Ramora cocks her head to the side, her usual wicked grin curling at her painted lips. "Come now, Zenos. You know better than I do that easy prey is simply no fun at all. The hunt is much better, wouldn't you agree?"

Zenos allows his own evil smile to curve his lips. "Oh?" So that was the way of it, hmm? Well, far be it from him to deny her the chase.

He drops the man, watching dispassionately as the elezen fell flat on his face.

"Mmphf!" The man groans into the ground. His hands flying out to scrabble against the earth as if to crawl away.

Zenos places a sandaled foot in the middle of the man's back, chuckling lowly as the smaller elezen man wheezes under the barest of pressure.

Too weak to be worth his while.

Zenos cups a hand over Ramora's jaw, eyes half lidded as he purrs approvingly, "Go on then, my beast. Shall we play cat and mouse?"

Ramora leans into his touch, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.

Zenos hums, so very tempted to kiss those lips. To erase the traces of any other. So he does.

Ramora sighs as Zenos bends to kiss her, her clawed gloves combing through the golden hair spilling free from its place tucked under the scarf wrapped about Zenos's shoulder's and throat.

Zenos smiles into their kiss as the man gasps under the weight of Zenos's foot.

Ramora pulls away first, grinning hard as she always does when Zenos initiates any sort of contact. It is good to feel wanted, she has said to him more than once.  

A fool of those who do not want her; for even Zenos had eventually succumbed.

Zenos smiles smugly back at her with her lipstick no doubt smeared over his mouth just the same as she.

Ramora steps back, dropping down into a crouch to grasp the man's face with a clawed glove.

"Hello, darling." She murmurs, her way of address sounding sour from her usually sweet tongue. "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

Ramora smiles, grasping the choker at her throat and pulling it off to reveal a jagged scar curving her throat. Once, twice, three times. Crisscrossed over each other. Once hadn't been enough, had it?

"Remember how we left things? 'Twas rather ungentlemanly of you to try to kill me on our last night together. You gave me no chance of a fair fight, see. And to think I was ready to go with you, and leave my life behind!"

Ramora laughs now like the very idea is preposterous.

Zenos's eyes narrow, and he presses down even harder on the man's back.

The man gasps, "Bitch!"

Ramora tsks. "That's not very nice. Here I am greeting you politely when all you have for me are tired insults!"

Ramora tosses back her coat to expose her thighs, reaching into the confines of her shiny leather thigh high, and plucks an ornate dagger from a sheath hidden there.

She holds it up to the light for a moment, smiling serenely. "Do you remember this? A gift from madame Mirime, and the would-be murder weapon."

Ramora lowers the dagger to trace the man's face, smiling sweetly. The man flinches, slicing himself in the process, the blade drawing blood near the corner of his mouth.

Ramora hums, claw tipped thumb rubbing at the spot of crimson.

"To kill me with mine own dagger meant to protect me. How poetic. 'Tis a shame it didn't stick."  

She smears the blood over his lips. Red like the shade of her lipstick.

Zenos's eyes lower in a wash of pleasure. Would she slice this weakling's throat here? Where anyone could see? Mmm. Zenos did so love to see her thirst for blood.

The man bites at her fingers, snarling venomously. "Duskwight scum!"

Ramora frowns, pulling the blade away to wag in his face and tsk disapprovingly.  "Oh dear, how disappointing. I do hope you will have more to say when next we meet. Everything you wish to say, mind, as I intend to cut out that lying, repulsive tongue of yours."

Zenos chuckles at that. Raising his foot up and then kicking the man away. The man hits the wall behind him, wheezing coughs shuddering through him from the force of Zenos's kick. Really, he should be thankful Zenos had held back enough to not snap his spine. If he had one at all, that is.

The man seemed more a coward with every word Ramora spoke.

Ramora smiles at Zenos as he offers her a hand up. Taking his hand and rising to her feet.

She looks over her shoulder at the man where he was still having trouble finding his feet, shaking her head. "You took me by surprise for the last time. It won't happen again."

She waves dismissively. "Go, run. Grow stronger until next we meet."

The man stands shakily, a hand to his ribs. Bruised? Without a doubt. Broken? Highly likely. It was a surprise he could stand at all - Zenos must have held back practically all of his strength.

"What then?" The man growls, hunching in on himself with pained breath.

Ramora's eyes curve up with her incredulous laugh. Looking to Zenos like she could hardly believe such a question. 

"What then?" Ramora grins with too sharp teeth. "I'll kill you, of course!"

She turns to Zenos, dismissing the other man entirely by giving him her back, and tugging at his arm. "I found something that will look positively delicious on you! Come, come, I was in the midst of a purchase before I was rudely interrupted!"

Zenos snorts, allowing Ramora to lead the way with a roll of his eyes. "It better not be anything like the loincloth from last time."

Ramora makes a groaning whine. "Let me dress you!" And leaves him behind in her search for more clothing for him.

Zenos turns his head, committing the man's face to his memory.

He smirks. "Run now, little mouse. I wait eagerly for my beast to catch you in her claws. You will entertain her, will you not?"

The man spits on the ground. "Fuck you!"

Zenos walks away with a mocking laugh. "I do not bed weaklings."

[ladyramora]

“Please refrain from shooting her, we need her for later.” - Chiyo

“Please don’t shoot her, we need her for later. We haven’t finished interrogating her yet!” Chiyo whispers, eyeing the gun that Germanotta had taken apart to clean.

Germanotta snorts. Eyes on her work as she replies. “I’m not going to shoot her.”

Chiyo sighs with relief. “Then… why do you have the gun? Whose gun is it, anyway? Is it really a good idea to have your hands all over that?”

Germanotta chuckles. “Calm down. It’s Hilda’s. I was only borrowing it for… intimidation purposes.”

Chiyo leans away, frowning. “Hilda? Again. You two seem awfully chummy lately.”

Germanotta turns to look at her. “You know she’s my friend. I like her. Nothing else.”

Chiyo pouts. “I’ve missed you, though! And now I hear you’ve been with Hilda? It’s enough to make a lady jealous!”

Germanotta shakes her head. “You have nothing to worry about. You know you’re the only lady I favor.”

“Aww,” Chiyo coos, leaning in to kiss Germanotta on the cheek.

Germanotta flushes. “This is a hostage situation. Not in front of the hostage!”

They both peek at said hostage.

A duskwight female who claimed her name was Ramora, but Germanotta didn’t trust that was her real name.

Ramora smiles at them. Perfectly at ease in her place tied to a chair as Haurchefant made a slow circle around her. “Don’t mind me,” She smirks, winking cheekily. “If you two want to get your smooch on, you just go right ahead!”

Chiyo perks up. “See! She doesn’t mind!”

Germanotta groans. “Are you done with your circling yet? She’s not intimidated by you.”

Haurchefant sighs, stopping mid-circle. “It’s true. I’m simply too disarming and effortlessly charming. It’s a curse, really.”

Ramora nods along. “You are quite handsome. To be honest I was staring at your backside in those fitted slacks before I got distracted by those two cuties smooching over there.” She winks.

Haurchefant laughs, dragging up a chair. He twirls it around, hooking his legs over the seat and crossing his arms over the back of the chair. “You seem like an intelligent lady. Beauty and brains. Yet you will not tell us of your employer?”

Ramora hums, lips puckering as she seems to give it some thought. “Well, you three have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You see, usually I don’t let anyone tie me up until I’ve at least had dinner with them.” She shrugs the best she can with her arms behind her back and being fully roped to a chair.

She blows at her bangs, smiling flirtatiously. “As for my employer? I’m afraid that’s confidential. I signed a contract, you see.”

Germanotta rises from her seat at Haurchefant’s desk, looking particularly irritated. Only faltering in her upset as Chiyo grabs at her sleeve. Bending down for Chiyo to whisper in her ear as the lalafell beckons with a crook of her finger.

Germanotta makes a face. “Really?”

Chiyo nods, giving her a look.

Germanotta sighs. “As you wish.”

Ramora and Haurchefant watch in bemusement as the midlander drags a table over to stand next to the tied up duskwight. Watching as she gathers Chiyo’s tea set. Setting the table and then plucking the lalafell from her spot sitting on Haurchefant’s desk and depositing her on the table next to their captive.

Chiyo smiles, pouring a cup of tea and offering it to the tied up duskwight.

“Tea?” She asks, fluttering her lashes.

Ramora blinks. “How generous. I’m afraid I’ve no hands available.”

Chiyo shuffles forward, cup raised up to Ramora’s lips.

The duskwight laughs, dipping her head to sip the tea.

“We would be more than happy to let you leave. All we ask is that you tell us what you know of Mr. Galvus.” Germanotta says, lingering behind Ramora’s chair.

Ramora leans her head back, smacking her lips like the tea had been the tastiest she’d ever had. “Mm. Again, I can tell you nothing of the sort. Lovely tea, though. You must tell me - what brand is that?”

Chiyo ducks her head, twirling her hair. “I mixed it myself!”

Ramora smiles. “Delightful.”

Haurchefant coughs politely. “Indeed. Now, miss Ramora, was it?”

Ramora nods. “Yes, handsome kidnapper?”

Haurchefant smiles. “We know you’re working for Mr. Galvus. Won’t you give us something? What he looks like, perhaps? Surely you could give us that?”

Ramora sighs. “Look, Handsome. I’d love to help you out. You all seem like lovely people aside from the whole kidnapping thing, buuuut..-” Ramora shrugs. “Here’s the deal: If I tell you, I’ll be taken care of. Get that? Wiped away like I never existed. Poof.”

Haurchefant frowns, pillowing his head on his arms. “So it was for naught. You’ll tell us nothing of him at all?”

Ramora cocks her head. “Well. I’ll tell you one thing.” She leans in. Like it’s a juicy secret.

Haurchefant perks up.

“He’s really handsome, too.” Ramora winks.

Haurchefant sighs. “Is that all?”

There’s a sudden crash that makes them all jump. Thud, thud, thudding. The sound of splintering wood. Muffled shouting.

An unnamed elezen bursting into the room, panic in his eyes. “Forgive me, my lord!” He begs, sweating heavily. A bloom of red on his shirt as he falls to his knees.“We… couldn’t stop him…!” He hits the floor, losing consciousness.

Ramora laughs. “I knew it! Here’s clue number two: He always loves a reason for war.”

Germanotta clamps her hands on Ramora’s chair. “Where is he?”

The door creaks open. The sound of footsteps loud on the wooden flooring.

A hand clad in black leather swiping aside the drapery that hid them from view.

They all stare with wide eyes.

Seeing their enemy for the first time. The flowing gold of his hair. His eyes, a piercing blue - and that of a monster. That blood thirsty smile. He was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

“I believe,” Zenos drawls, a hand resting on one of the swords at his belt, jutting out from his cloak-like suit jacket. “-you have something that belongs to me.”

[ladyramora]

"I do believe in you." - Zenos

Ramora frowns, turning her face away. “You? Believe in me?” She scoffs. 

Zenos steps close, capturing her jaw in a sharp taloned hand. “Is that so detestable?” He smiles, slow and wicked.

Ramora scowls, cheeks squishing under the force of his hold. She slaps his hand away. “Of course it is. Why would your belief in me make me feel any different?”

Zenos chuckles, invading her personal space. Ramora glares up at him, irritated that even with her impressive Elezen height Zenos still towered over her. With his every step forward, she takes one back. Ramora doesn’t realize she’s cornered herself until her back hits the wall.

Zenos is smug, of course. Caging her in with an arm beside her head. 

“I believe in you,” He repeats in that deep, rumbling voice.

Ramora swallows. “Stop.”

Zenos smirks, head dipping down until his nose brushes her cheek. Dragging along her skin, his lips hovering over her ear. Breath hot on her flushed face.

“Make me,” He growls.

Ramora sucks in a breath, grabbing him by his bulky armor. Her eyes angry slits. “You repulse me,” She snarls, dragging him close.

Zenos laughs. “Do I?” He dips his head down, lips hovering just over her own. “Or are you just ashamed of your own attraction?”

Ramora grits her teeth. “I hate you.”

“Mmm. Yesss,” Zenos groans. “And I do so enjoy that.”

“Shut up!” Ramora snaps back, dragging him close at the same time she leans up, slamming her lips over his. She bites at him, her hands cupping his face in a less than gentle hold. 

“Yess, yessss!” Zenos hisses, grasping at her like a wild thing. One hand sinking into the depths of her braided hair. Crooning at her through kisses like a man possessed. “This is the beast I longed to face! Give me your everything! Such ferocity!”

Ramora rolls her eyes, “Do you ever shut up?” 

Zenos throws his head back in a mad cackle. Ramora makes a face. Honestly, he was too much. The new champion of craziest person she’d ever kissed.