[ Fortunately for her, none of the falling feathers have settled in her tea, or she'd be decidedly less indifferent to her surroundings. Cloud's voice does succeed in diverting her attention from the network, however, or at least enough that she spares him a sidelong glance to see if his is a familiar face from home.
So many alien races with new and strange energies contained within... quite frankly it's a bit overwhelming - like discovering a handful of new colours only to have the entire palette shoved directly into one's eyeballs with no prior preparation. Sort of. A bit dramatic, but you get the point.
Once Y'shtola has had her fill of studying the interesting shade of blue steaming off of what she's going to assume is a young Hyur man - from stature and voice, she's rarely wrong nowadays - she turns her attention back to the device settled on the table before her. Still oblivious about the feather still balanced on her head, of course. ]
I was not privy to that message. Was there a reason for their destruction?
[ Firstly, they're just feathers. Some savvy entrepreneur could easily make a hefty chunk of Gil, if they only gathered up all the quill-worthy pieces and sold them at a premium to the right audience. The Arcanist's guild, perhaps. And since they don't seem to have any latent magic for her to zero in on, asking a blind woman to destroy something that makes no sound and has no scent is a bit silly. ]
'Twould be wiser to check the vents for wayward dodos or chocobo chicks, would it not?
[ Have a few skinny fellows climb on up into the ventilation system with a sack, a generous helping of patience, and a head or two of Gysahl Greens to entice the feathery fiends out of hiding. Easy sidequest material! ]
no subject
Cloud's voice does succeed in diverting her attention from the network, however, or at least enough that she spares him a sidelong glance to see if his is a familiar face from home.
So many alien races with new and strange energies contained within... quite frankly it's a bit overwhelming - like discovering a handful of new colours only to have the entire palette shoved directly into one's eyeballs with no prior preparation.
Sort of. A bit dramatic, but you get the point.
Once Y'shtola has had her fill of studying the interesting shade of blue steaming off of what she's going to assume is a young Hyur man - from stature and voice, she's rarely wrong nowadays - she turns her attention back to the device settled on the table before her.
Still oblivious about the feather still balanced on her head, of course. ]
I was not privy to that message. Was there a reason for their destruction?
[ Firstly, they're just feathers. Some savvy entrepreneur could easily make a hefty chunk of Gil, if they only gathered up all the quill-worthy pieces and sold them at a premium to the right audience. The Arcanist's guild, perhaps.
And since they don't seem to have any latent magic for her to zero in on, asking a blind woman to destroy something that makes no sound and has no scent is a bit silly. ]
'Twould be wiser to check the vents for wayward dodos or chocobo chicks, would it not?
[ Have a few skinny fellows climb on up into the ventilation system with a sack, a generous helping of patience, and a head or two of Gysahl Greens to entice the feathery fiends out of hiding. Easy sidequest material! ]