#this is during MotR raids in 6.x

[snow-system-wol]

Menphina's custom job, Selenomancer, is a combination of two jobs -- but the circumstances that led to its creation were a happy coincidence and chance meeting.

Ao3

S'ria sat at one of the tables in the Rising Stones, drumming his fingers nervously on the table. Or... was it truly S'ria? It was not a clear distinction, but… no, Menphina did seem to be a more accurate answer.

It didn't feel bad this time, but the two of them had been a bit enmeshed for the last few bells after fighting together against the gods, flowing in and out of control in the midst of battle. S'ria seemed to have stepped farther away for the moment, though. It comforted Menphina to know that S'ria trusted her with their body enough to do things on her own.

Menphina flinched and looked up at the sudden clink on the table, realizing she had not been keeping close attention in her anxious fatigue. Menphina expected to see Tataru, forgetting that she was away on business for a few suns. Instead, she saw an unfamiliar Hyuran woman placing a bottle of mead in front of her and sitting down across the table with a mug. She gave Menphina a reserved smile and Menphina returned the gesture instead with a gentle tilt of her head.

“I beg your forgiveness if so – but have we met?”

Menphina was still exhausted from fighting and made no effort to alter her voice to be more like S'ria's. Should her words come out strangely high and melodic, so be it.

If her visitor found anything odd about her speaking thusly, she didn't show it.

The woman shook her head, curling her hands around her mug. “You simply seemed in need of distraction from your own thoughts, and I thought to seek a conversation partner while F’lhaminn is off completing her errands.”

Menphina reached for the bottle that had been set on her side of the table – noting gratefully that it was still quite sealed. Even more gratefully, it seemed like it would be something palatable to her.

She hoped the woman was not watching her overly closely as she quickly worked out how to open it, lacking S'ria's muscle memory for it – but if so, words could take the focus off of her easily. “So, you are a friend of F’lhaminn’s…?”

She seemed to relax at Menphina's acceptance of the offered drink. “Yes, we met in Thavnair, while she was…making herself scarce from Eorzea for a short spell. I am certain you are aware of what I mean.”

Menphina was, yes. She faintly recalled F’lhaminn saying that she'd gone to Thavnair in the wake of the assassination accusations.

…She more clearly remembered S'ria being berated for not searching hard enough for Minfilia than she did any other part of that conversation, despite her best intentions of letting that indiscretion go, but that was neither here nor there. Menphina pushed that train of thought aside and simply nodded.

“I was remiss in introductions, my apologies. My name is Nashmeira. And yours would be…?”

It struck her then, in this strange moment in the nearly empty lounge, that she was somehow anonymous. Few chose to describe the Warrior of Light's appearance as often as they did his deeds – with some not even knowing the gender of that revered figure. Despite wandering directly into the Scions’ prior home, Nashmeira did not seem to know who she spoke to.

It was… a novel feeling. It was such a novel feeling that Menphina decided to, without hesitating for more than a few moments, do  something a touch unusual. May S'ria hopefully not be upset later. 

She took a small sip of her drink before she spoke, the taste of honey sweet on her tongue.

“My name is Menphina.”

Oh, she wasn't sure what she felt, but it may have been an adrenaline rush upon the words leaving her. She could simply say that and the world would not immediately end – how strange.

She could only hope that Nashmeira had no clarifying questions about her gender, as that truly felt too far, to introduce herself as a woman to anyone.

“You do not often see people sitting here instead of the public bar. Are you involved with Mistress Tataru's business ventures?”

Menphina stifled a tiny laugh – she was sure that she would not be a good help to Tataru when it came to running a business.

“No, I am just a contract adventurer right now, really. I am helping with some research in Mor Dhona.” None of that was really untrue, and Menphina could live with that. 

“An adventurer... so, you are a fighter?”

Menphina winced, answering before any hesitation could take hold of her. “No, I am a healer. I do not wish to harm anyone.”

Somewhat to Menphina's surprise and confusion, Nashmeira’s expression fell just slightly. 

“Ah, somehow that is a surprise... I am not actively scouting, our troupe is off for a few moons, but there is a certain grace to you – I must confess to being intrigued.”

Menphina raised her eyebrows. “Troupe? Pardon, I am not sure that I follow.”

“The Troupe Falsiam – a traveling group of dancers. I am proud to call myself their leader and can attest to their skill. I always keep an eye open for those with promise. If I am being honest, that is one of the reasons that I approached you – though not solely, of course.”

Menphina's eyebrows drew together and she did her best to smooth her expression into something more neutral. Nashmeira was clearly proud of her group, but… upon picturing the attire and treatment of the dancers at Costa del Sol – and the even worse abusive incidents out of Ul'dah – Menphina knew such an offer alone would have S'ria's fur standing on end. 

“I am afraid I don't quite have the… personality or temperament for that sort of performance, myself.”

Despite the delicately chosen words, Nashmeira's face slightly closed off – it was clear she understood what Menphina was thinking and was not particularly pleased by the assumption. “I fear you are imagining something slightly different than what I mean. I teach the Kriegstanz – an art of war, where dance occupies a place on the battlefield.”

Menphina's hand tightened minutely around her bottle and she tried to prevent the guilty flattening of her ears. “Forgive me, I meant no harm with my words – I do not disrespect either profession. I fear my original assessment still stands, however… I do not find comfort under scrutiny.”

Nashmeira gave a small smile and Menphina nearly sighed in relief, for fear of having given actual offense. “I understand, and will not press you. However…” She tapped her fingers on her cup, briefly pausing. “Given that we share a mutual friend, one I am quite fond of, I am inclined to make a different offer.”

“A different offer…?” Menphina tilted her head. “I will certainly hear it.”

“Very well.” Nashmeira nodded. “Upon hearing you say that you are a healer, with a pacifist nature, I knew that putting weapons in your hands for the Kriegstanz would not be possible. However, if you wish to learn – the dance is more than just violence. You can empower, protect, and heal those that share the battlefield with you – which sounds like something you may appreciate, Menphina. I shall be in town for several suns and could show you the basics before I go.” She smiled. “Perhaps our Songstress could be of some assistance to you as well.”

Menphina took a few moments to consider. It did sound appealing – even if the concept of learning was faintly embarrassing to imagine, the described results would let her better protect those around her. She knew that herself and S'ria had struggled heavily with G'raha's safety in this round of godly trials. Mayhap returning with more skills that could help him would be a boon.

And lending her strength to empower the others was not quite the same as lifting a hand to kill someone herself.

There was, however, one not so small problem.

Menphina smiled sadly at her. “Your offer is extremely generous, and an appealing one, however…”. Was there a delicate way to put it? “However, my leg would surely… not cooperate with such teachings. Even as healed as it…likely ever shall be, ‘tis still rather problematic.” She shifted her leg under the table, an noticeable ache settling into her knee as if summoned by her words.

To Menphina's bewilderment, Nashmeira looked unbothered by that response. “Is that your only reservation? You needn't worry – I know how to teach the dance around these limitations. I am much the same, after all.” At Menphina's poorly concealed moment of raw curiosity, surely showing on her face, Nashmeira continued. “A childhood injury. My body was never the same after – yet all I have ever learned about dance has been as I am now.”

Menphina found herself in a strange place between confusion and blinking back tears. “Thank you for sharing, I – if that is how things are, then I would like to learn these support techniques from you. I simply need to ask… why go to such efforts for a student that shall not benefit you?”

Nashmeira took several moments to answer, briefly engrossed in emptying her mug. She finally looked up and met Menphina's eyes. “Given the company you must keep, if this is your preferred relaxation spot – mayhap I do not wish to see our saviors lose anyone else dear to them.”