ajhisi ahalei

they said the captain of the folly, of the fortune, of whatever you wanted to call the ship with the allegedly cursed crew, was a cold, hard woman—a thief, a blackguard, a gaolbird, a swaggering hedonistic drunk, a gil-greedy cutthroat, a gold-toothed bitch, a filthy polygamous whore; an average shot with a quick temper; and a sun-seared and sea-sprayed sailor.in other words, she was exactly what you’d expect from a pirate.and it didn’t matter to her what they said, so long as they said something......so long as the story—the myth in the making—was her own.

dead in the water

personality summary: loyal· faithful · protective · thieving (not exceptional at the stealth aspect, but shameless about doing it violently) · self-confident · surprisingly spiritual · values promises · brash · witty · has a good sense of humour · sex positive · easily confused; leads to easy and volatile annoyance · can be vulgar · not entirely very bright—except when it comes to the sea · selectively amoral · superstitioustropes/archetypes: pirate girl; part of a battle couple gone wrong; recovering from a robinsonade type-beat after being left for dead, lost at sea, stranded on a deserted island; sports a death glare more often than not—unclear whether it's just her resting face; highwayman, except, you know, a womanmoral alignment: true neutral

no one knows whose fault it is that 1/3 of fortune’s folly’s original crew is cursed, captain included, and few remember how it began. over time, they've found themselves stricken with bouts of obsessive greed, paranoia, violent impulses; they suffer from periods of fugue-like states, where the cursed lose all sense of time and self, utterly consumed by visions and thoughts of one singular treasure—an elusive, divine prize that haunts them all... and keeps them fated together, for better or for worse.

OCEAN'S FAVOUR

likes: fighting · sex/intimacy · stealing · sailing · swimming · bards · singing (shanties) · drinking · mischief · cats · tattoos · being arrested · learning languages · childrendislikes: stagnancy · pears · oathbreakers · being even a little bit confused · surprises · pesteringvoice:  clara paget 

    ↳ Generally low-spoken (not soft, just low) and gritty, it can sometimes be difficult to hear Ajhisi when she speaks at a normal volume, especially in crowded places. Their accent is an odd blend—Limsan at times but surely the accent of someone well-traveled.
       She has a vocabulary somewhat more developed than the average pirate would be expected to have, but she doesn't try very hard to use it, resorting instead to vulgarity or profanity, rife with creative yet colourful metaphors, idioms, et cetera. If you catch her in the right mood, she might spout something she read in a poem or heard a bard sing about, but whether what she's saying means what she seems to think it means or not is hit-or-miss.

WOMAN KING

AJHISI HAS BEEN A PIRATE FOR MOST OF THEIR LIFE. They were born on an island village to the south of Valnain in Othard and, secretly fearing being cast out to the isolated ranks of the Wood-warders, they fled the island with their sibling, Qiraat, in their very early adolescence. The two youths stowed away on a pirate vessel that occasionally used the island as a fuel and resupply stop between Yanxia (Doma), Thavnair, and Ilsabard (Garlemald). Ajhisi has been a part of many crews over their life, filling many roles on-deck and generally devoting herself to seafaring (with the occasional, rare foray into sky piracy as needed).

WHAT IS THE LIFE OF A PIRATE without the occasional shipwreck? Ajhisi has known plenty, though one remains difficult to move on from. It was a voyage meant to lead to a long-lost, fabled trove; instead, the ship—recklessly captained by myrta of the deep—foundered in treacherous, uncharted waters, the rest of the crew lost or dead. half-drowned and battered from the impact of the wreck, ajhisi watched in horror and disbelief as their other partner, the ship's Master Gunner, lars lacey, shot the captain, seized the only surviving dinghy, and departed alone—without word or backward glance—leaving ajhisi and her other partner, Keoni, marooned on a deserted isle where they would stay, struggling to survive, for over 700 days.

WHILE ASHORE, Ajhisi—whether alone or with a select few from her current crew at the time—often spends her time seeking her next target. Fancying herself something of a highwaywoman, this typically involves visiting taverns and brothels, lazily and sometimes tactlessly gathering information on new trade routes, and learning about any necessary precautions to ensure a successful ambush. She listens for news of valuable caravans and notes the vulnerabilities of their guards in the hopes of preparing for her next move.

SHE'S NOT ALWAYS CAUTIOUS, and is often driven by fanciful whims and spur-of-the-moment pursuits born of boredom. This frequently results in stints in local gaols or her face appearing on wanted posters, though these issues typically get resolved or forgotten over time. sometimes, it seems like she sort of really likes getting arrested...

18+ only

I will only interact with 18+ roleplayers. Writer & ajhisi are 18+. I am E/RP friendly, but I will not engage in E/RP with anyone under 18 & this applies to characters, too. I will not engage in E/RP with Lalafells.
I will do SFW RP with characters under age 18. I will do SFW RP with Lalafells.
No exceptions.

ic=/=ooc

If you approach me while I have the rp tag on, I will assume it's in character unless you use something to distinguish IC from OOC. I do not do OOC "E/RP."a note about ajhisi: ajhisi is a pirate; she is brash at times, often foul-mouthed or crass, hedonistic, usually a little bit drunk, and she loves a tryst or a good bit of saucy banter, so she might flirt if the mood strikes.
please do not misinterpret anything she says or does as my thoughts or feelings about you or your character, and if something she says makes you, the writer, uncomfortable, please send me a /tell to let me know. i won't have any hard feelings, and i'll either tone her down or we can go our separate ways; but roleplay is something that relies upon communication, so if you don't tell me, i won't know!

lore

i have been terrible about paying attention to the story of this game. i do not know much lore. i will not be very lore-abiding, at least not strictly so.
I do my best not to break the lore, and I will look things up as needed of course, but i much prefer to focus on building story rather than fret over lore details, so:
if you're looking for someone to be 100% lore-compliant, I'm unfortunately not it!

disclaimer

ajhisi is a transgender woman respect trans people or die.I have no patience for transphobes, homophobes, TERFs, bigots, racists, zionists, and/or any other generally hateful people.if your character is any of these things, we MUST discuss it beforehand if you intend to have them express their ideologies to me/ajhisi in character. just send me a /tell.  do not hit me with random, crazy transphobia or racism without prior warning, even if it is "in character" for your character.  

Fellow queer/trans/LGBTQIA2S+ family, I love you. I am here for you if you need a friend.

about me

hello! i'm el, i'm 29, and i have 18 other alts you might see me on at any given time. i don't bring ajhisi out too, too often (even though i love her dearly) but you can always ask to rp with her. i'm on the east coast, so i'm in EST timezone; i'm usually available on discord, so you can ask me for that if we connect. otherwise, idk man, just don't be weird. be kind.

she needs the sea

a pirate and has been since she was scarcely more than a girl | you've caught sight of her at sea or sky, though far more often the former, cutting across open waters with a crew that regards her with unfailing respect; their captain, their woman pirate-king | there are rumours of her brief absence from all seafaring— marooned, imprisoned by sahagin and then befriending them, gaoled in some other way—but they pass like sea-spray does and there's a constancy to her return to piracy; she's a regular face at sea, gold eyes and a gold fang glinting from beneath a slant hat | perhaps you’ve sailed alongside her once, shared a deck in the past, crossed paths in cannon smoke or your crews were uneasy allies in some fray | or you spot her in a portside tavern or dimly lit lounges or other crowded dockside haunt where she’s just as likely to start a brawl as she is to mean-mug you from the corner of the place | you're a dock-worker or hold another occupation a pirate might have need of, and sometimes, she hires you on | you've purchased or happened upon a travel voucher, allowing you passage aboard her ship | or you need passage somewhere, and she seems convenient enough to ask

whoreson prison blues

you're a traveler or wandering adventurer of the wilds and city-states and find yourself a target on an empty road between settlements, where a sometimes-highwaywoman like her and her ilk make their living stripping travelers of coin and goods; maybe you’re attending an event or passing through a trade route when she decides, waiting just off the path, to make your departure a little lighter and your purse a little emptier | or you might remember her from a stint in gaol: questionable conversations through iron bars or from sharing the same dirty, dank old cell; her crude words spat at anyone who'll listen despite all warnings; cock-sure smirks, and her temper stupidly easy to trigger | you could just as easily be the one she misunderstands in a moment of characteristic hot-blooded impatience or confusion; a misread glance or misheard word turning into a broken bottle, a pistol butt, a crack of a whip, a chair over the head, a fist to the nose | or perhaps you are the one attempting to bring her in for some criminal misdeed, either a new bounty hunter or guard or a familiar one on her heels yet again | or maybe you're on the run together for whatever-reason

well-worn leather boots

it comes with the territory of being a pirate, after all | she’s been many places in some way or another—some more than once, some only long enough to leave a usually-bad impression; sure, most of the wanted posters have faded or been torn down, but people are better at remembering faces than they’re given credit for, and she can be a creature of habit when it suits her, passing back through familiar routes and half-forgotten haunts | maybe you meet her on a good day when she isn't just trying to rob someone, and you're both walking the same road to the same place | or you've shared a cigarette outside some ul'dahn lounge | or you’ve seen her at Buscarron’s Druthers, slouched into a chair, drinking whatever’s left at the bottom of someone else’s night and eavesdropping | or, rarely, you've seen her puzzling over a map of ishgard, semi-lost but figuring it out

my lover left me for dead

maybe you manage to get her drunk enough to tell you about how one of her partners, Lars, vanished into the chaos of a deadly shipwreck and left her (and their other partner, Keoni) behind, shipwrecked, marooned, as the hull broke; how he didn't even turn to look for them, how she watched him sail away on the last viable rowboat | maybe you’re someone who has noticed the way she lingers awhile at ports and seaside events and beaches and taverns, glaring eyes scanning faces in crowds, searching for a familiar one to reappear among strangers, waiting for Lars to eventually make the mistake of crossing her path again | maybe someone from her crew (or one of her partners) has mentioned him to you and the ship commandeering gunslinger sounds awfully familiar to you, and you'd like to strike a deal with her for the information in exchange for whatever it is you want | ooc note: lars is an NPC so this would be a plotted hook to discuss!

appearance hooks

mannerism hooks

fortuitous finds

The stall—splintered crates stacked two-high, a wobbly table balanced with an old book jammed under one leg, a crooked rack of clothing items billowing in the breeze, a moth-eaten canopy above, and no rhyme or reason to the strange spread of items for sale on the table—looks more like someone’s slapdash yard sale gone wrong than a well put-together marketplace stall ought to look, and the woman running it looks so out of place as a vendor, it’d almost be funny—if she didn’t also look somewhat hostile. On approach, she can be heard exasperatedly saying:

❛ ‘Where’d we get this?’ Did ye miss the name o’the shop? Found it fortuitously, that’s all I’ll say. If ye ain’t gonna buy it, why’re ye wastin’ our time, ye bleedin’ ars— ❜

...At least her partner looks nice…?

fortuitous finds

OCCASIONAL VENDOR STALL — At times, Ajhisi, her sibling, or a member of her crew may be found (reluctantly, in Jhisi's case) vending market events—if it is Ajhisi, she will either be alone or with one of her partners. 98% of the wares that they have for sale are stolen goods, either plundered or robbed from travelers on the road. Depending on the market, she will lie if asked where anything is sourced.No real gil required, but tips are appreciated!
Feel free to reach out if you'd like to use anything as an RP hook or if you'd like to get involved with vending with Ajhisi!

LIMITED STOCK! SPECIAL!—LETTERS IN BOTTLES:

Some are the genuine thing: bottles with letters sealed within them, having washed ashore somewhere only to be found by Ajhisi or her crew. Others… well… she… found them some other completely savoury way, and they're DEFINITELY not just letters she's stolen and stuffed into bottles... Limit 1 per customer. (Want to /roll for what you get? Let us know!)

SAND ART BOTTLES
(Premade + Create Your Own):

Glass bottles filled with layered, coloured sand, each unique in their colour combinations. A smaller table stands nearby with a sign fixed to it in slanted handwriting: CREATE YOUR OWN HERE! It’s complete with jars of dyed sand and empty receptacles to fill. (The link will take you to an online site where you can play around with some sand art!)

TRAVEL & ESCORT VOUCHERS:

Slips for passage by sea via Ajhisi’s ship—or sky, via her sibling’s ship, if you ask. Need an escort somewhere on foot? Ajhisi likely knows someone for the job or can do it herself…for a hefty price. Each voucher is stamped with a particular seal, so don’t even try to fake them.

WATER-LOGGED BOOKS:

All mostly legible (plus some with notes in their margins). Salt-stained, sea-soaked, and slightly warped, the collection spans everything from captain’s logs (with pages torn from some) and adventurer’s journals to common histories and well-thumbed novels of every genre. Want a recommendation? Ask one of the vendors! They’ve (probably) read them all, or at least they’ll say they have.

TOBACCO, SNUFF BOXES & WOODEN PIPES:

While supplies last, each purchase of a squeaky, brass-hinged snuff box (some with crests and/or monograms clearly filed or burned off) or chipped, hand-carved pipe comes with a small tin of tobacco.

MISCELLANEOUS POTIONS (?):

Some are proper medicine (no refunds if you buy one that’s expired or half-empty). Others… are definitely not medicine. All crammed into a splintered milk crate full of the mismatched, foggy bottles. (Want to /roll for what you get? Let us know!)

ASSORTMENTS OF CLOTHING:

You name it, they’ve got one of it. Shirts, shorts, shoes, belts, shawls, cloaks, hats (especially hats). Oddly, there’s no consistent style to any of these, and a few of them look to be of mighty fine quality for the likes of Ajhisi…

AGED, TANNED ANIMAL/MONSTER HIDES, PELTS & SKINS:

Dzo, antelope, coeurl, or wolf. Some of these are bolts, strips or unpurposed lengths of the stuff, but there are a few gently used rugs and throws for sale, as well.

DYES:

Rusty, dented pails of dye with at least one shade of every colour. So what some of them are only half full and others look like they might have been watered down to look more full? They’re cheap.

SUSPICIOUS QUANTITIES OF TRADE GOODS:

Once unsealed from the aged brown beer bottle it’s been stuffed into, the letter is written in neat, formal handwriting—perhaps the hand of someone trained in the art of calligraphy. The paper is worn thin and somewhat faded, yet still legible, blemished here and there with stains from what appear to be droplets. Rain, or tears? It’s difficult to tell.

My Soleil,I had forgotten the path I once walked.I've been here before, when I was still young and naive to Eorzea.... I am still young and naive to Eorzea. But I'm wiser for my travels.Sometimes I still think about everything I was taught back in the guild. They took me in when I was in need, giving me a home and place to rest. A place to feel normal. But of course good things never lasted long within that tree hollow.I don't blame them for my treatment. Nor do I expect apologies. It was my own fault, really. I should have used my teachings. And yet I refused.but I'm glad I did. I'm happy for all the heartache, the misery, the sleepless nights and empty belly. And yes- even the tears.Because in the end, they all led me to you.It's bittersweet... But here I am hoping once more that these tears and sleepless nights and empty belly lead me back to you all over again. I've a story to tell you too, after this visit. I hope you're listening closely.Yours everlasting,
Tati

A clean mismatch to the grimy bottle it was shoved into, the letter remains scrolled with seal unbroken, its body scrawled in a neatly legible cursive—spaced, as if with great contemplation. The unfurled paper smells unmistakably like chocolate chip cookies, but one end is smeared gratuitously with the distinct dingy brown of long-dried blood.

Dear    Sir,As is likely painfully apparent by now, I've become a great admirer of your   performances. And your compositions on the piano—which I've heard, somewhat regrettably, less in your own productions as echoed at the hands of others. My late brother was a concert pianist, and so I confess I find some measure of comfort in their symmetry, however incomparable the connection may be.Now the hard part... Normally, I'd never be so forward as to offer, but I was complimenting your soliloquy in The Dravanian Play to Lady Maugraine yesterday, and she insists that I invite you out to lunch. She is not herself a regular patron of the theater, and I fear my animated ramblings may have bored her such that she implores me to seek alternative company. Rather funny, isn’t it?I have little to offer by way of actual expertise, however I've recently unearthed a peculiar painting that I'd like your opinion on. I have a feeling you may enjoy it, if our previous conversation was any indicator of your interest in artwork. As well, perhaps, a half-writ musical composition that could use a third set of eyes... And I faultingly admit that I should simply like to have you all to myself, for an hour or two.If     interested, name a time and place, and I will make it happen.
I'll post this letter with the usual flowers next I see you onstage (And I hope we shall speak again soon, either way.)Warmest regards,
K. Barker

While its tone is carefree, this letter is written on delicate, grainy paper as if designed to be burned. It even smells lightly of spark powder. Curled in the center of the scroll is the thick, oil-slick feather of a crow.

Cas,We'll see if this one makes it... most of the birds are already enroute, so I'll have to rely on the retirees, and we both know how that usually goes for me.You finally asked for my advice! Don't know if I should be flattered or offended, but I'll settle for the former. As usual, you're thinking too much in terms of assets. Partially my fault, I'll admit, but don't let all that military mumbo-jumbo sink too deep into your brain meat. I know you've been fighting since the beginning, but any good resistance must needs do a little shape-shifting in order to stay relevant to public interests, and the body of ours has changed countless times since we signed up. Rest is critical—and I don't mean the kind where you're pillaging the Ruby Sea. Eventually you're going to have to lay down for a while if you want to get better. You have time now; don't waste it.You know my philosophy: facts are king. Consider what you know, and what you don't—and be objective, first. Don't appraise it. Don't dismiss anything. Don't value facts against other facts right away. Lay it all out in front of you, then find your connections and see where they lead. In this case, I'd recommend you weigh the outcomes and come to terms with the one that you'd prefer. Read that last part a second time. The outcome you'd PREFER!And for what it's worth, sometimes the best way to solve a problem like yours is to kiss it on the mouth. Oops, did I say that?Always rooting for you, brother.
Here if you need me.
V.

The letter looks worse for wear once pulled from the aged, brown beer bottle. Only half remains—the rest torn away—but what survives is still legible, and reads as follows:

— could call in a favor from your friends in Costa del Sol? I’m itching to see if that rumor I heard from this cute sky pirate I met at The Wench about treasure stashed in the coral northeast of the aetheryte has any truth to it. I scoped the place, and I’m certain I’ve pinned it down.Only trouble is…One: Opylona swears there’s been a rise in shark activity. She wasn’t much help beyond that. She went on about her “Master” this-or-that. Sounds like a bastard.Two: the sharks. There is a big one out there that circles the reef.Three: a ship’s anchored nearby every damned time I’ve gone. The Saltworn Captain at the helm never fails to spot me, screaming about "lowlifes” as he drives me off.So if you can get someone to shift his ship, or just tell him to stop meddling, I’ll split the haul with you.If not, I’ll pester you about it anyway when we meet next moon for Pa’s nameday?Love,
Texa’zi

What's this? An actually clear, long-necked bottle and not an old, smelly, brown beer bottle? Wow! The letter within it is written in neat, formal handwriting—perhaps the hand of someone trained in the art of calligraphy.

My Soleil,I've become quite good at making fires now. I suppose that's a good thing.It's funny. My brother is so obsessed with water, you'd think I'd get used to it myself as well. and despite the tangle being only about shin deep, I can't help but panic when I look in the water.No matter if it's my reflection, or nothing at all. It feels as if something- or someone will reach out to pull me in, never to return.It both overjoyed me, and broke my heart to be able to speak to you again, you know. To actually catch a response. But was it truly you?I am coming. I swear it.
But what will be awaiting me? What must be perfect before my arrival? You spoke of wanting to show me everything... But will the end results be worth it?I'm coming regardless.
I'm already there, in a sense.
And I fear I always will be.Have I always been so watched? Sometimes it's as if Mehniam's eyes are still placed on me. Watching. /Hunting/. It feels the same.I told you I would give anything at all, do anything at all. The right reasons, the wrong way, as they say.... I'll be there soon. Hold a hand out for me, okay?Yours,
Now, Forever, always,
Tatiana

It’s newer paper, to be sure, but it’s heavily wrinkled, as if fresh from the depths of some unattended pocket. There’s even a greasy thumbprint on one corner, as if the letter’s original reader had been enjoying a greasy snack. The author’s handwriting is thin and reedy, and their spelling is atrocious.

Hi Bucket,Your monolitihc ass wasn't budging this morning, so I gave up trying to say goodbye before you started crushing arms and legs like a fucinkg crab crackr.Away today. Don't freak out. Airship to Dravania to harvest rare figs for a resostk. Fucking cold ass. Brining home the seeds this time so we can try to grow them ourselves. Remembr to turn the kettle off wehn you're done after breakfast or you'll burn the house down. Yeah, I brought jackets. And I took your downy coats frm the pile. If you get lonely, lnikpearl me. Figs ain't gonna mind.Kind of stupid to be traveling so much we hardly have tim to open shop. Need more botinists to emply, but they're all so busy fucking botaning that I don't even knoe where to starrt.Anyawy, I'll bring home some porchini for dinner and you can tlel me all the weird shit you did today. Maybe you'll find us a fucking gatherer, fi you're lucky.Love You LoserP.S. I juts got the joke about the brroom. It wasn't funny.
P.P.P.S. I brought gloves too.

A clear, nicked, slightly cracked bottle holds three water-stained notes rolled up to make them look like one. Be grateful: you got three for the price of one!

Toto-Rak Expedition Notes (1)Dangerous fauna encountered upon entering cave. Culling as per mission parameters. Expect to encounter more as we press deeper.Toto-Rak Expedition Notes (2)Engaged with sizable fiend. Succeeded in exterminating, but casualties mounting. Must consider turning back if situation worsens.Toto-Rak Expedition Notes (3)Diremite infestation confirmed. Scores of eggs on verge of hatching, beyond our means to deal with. Aborting mission. Subsequent parties beware.

A champagne-green claret bottle holds the letter, rolled tight and bound in ratty twine... it's a shabby and shameful means of sealing this particular lettersheet, which is still clean and unmarred despite the years that have presumably passed since it was written. Unrolled, the penmanship is artfully flourished cursive, each i and j topped with a slanted tittle, and in the bottom right corner, a treble clef is sketched in dark ink beside the rough outline of an autumn leaf.

Dearest Patron of the Arts,I’m embarrassed to confess that I spent an absurd amount of time debating how to open this first letter to you.The overlong manuals on etiquette would suggest some customary pleasantries, a ‘how are you’ or an ‘I hope this letter finds you well,’ but the former strikes me as unnecessary and the latter as self-evident; of course I hope you’re well.You're an exceedingly polite man, I know you've read those manuals. Be honest with me: don’t you find them so tedious sometimes?I know I do, so I would prefer to come directly to the matter at hand: an apology. I left our last exchange very… abruptly. I assure you it was not your fault or the result of the conversation (which is always a rare delight compared to the stagedoor banalities I usually endure. I don’t mean to be cruel in saying so, they just become so humdrum over time). It was a fit of malady that sent me off, though that’s hardly an excuse. I believe I slammed a door on my way out which was, as they say, a dick move. Can you find it in your grace to forgive me?To sweeten the pot, I have enclosed a ticket to our matinee performance of “Into the Twelveswood” at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre, where a private box will (hopefully, if Estaine is to be believed) be arranged and reserved for you. Take it as my apology, if you will, but also a selfish desire to see you in the audience again.Did you think it ended there? It may have, if I was not feeling emboldened (dangerous, for me, you may come to learn) by three glasses of warmwine.I’ll leave you with this: since the performance concludes most conveniently in time for dinner, I would very much like to continue our usual post-performance dalliance conversation over a meal.Yours truly,
Briar Essex

An old brown beer bottle with a sizable crack down the side holds an even older looking rolled up parchment. There’s a stain on it, unidentifiable, but thankfully it doesn’t distort the writing.

Grandma’s Mashed PopotosIngredients½ cup Cottage cheese
2 Wild popotos
½ stick of Smooth butter
½ cup Sweet cream
8 cloves Garlean garlicChop popotos into cubes, then boil popotos and garlic together until popotos are soft. Mash with fork or side of knife. Mix in butter, cottage cheese, and sweet cream until smooth. Serve while still warm. Adjust measurements for more or less servings.

An off-green bottle with a few nicks and scrapes down the side. Within it is a stained and torn parchment written in chickenscratch handwriting.

Trapper's QuicheIngredients1 eft tail (cooked, diced)
3 Apkallu eggs
1 prepared pie dough (9-ilms)
½ cup cream cheese
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
6 fresh Midland basil leaves, choppedPreheat your oven or cookstove. Lay your pie dough in a pie plate. Beat the eggs with cream cheese, nutmeg, and chopped basil.In a medium skillet, sauté the finely diced eft tail over flame until golden brown.Add the browned eft tail to the mixture of eggs, cream cheese, nutmeg, and basil, and pour the mixture into the pie dough, spreading it into even layers.Bake until golden, around 35 minutes.Note: reheated over campfire and it was unevenly heated. disgusting served cold. Leftovers not very good. Add cheese to top.

An off-green bottle with a few nicks and scrapes down the side. Within it is a dirty, blood-stained note, torn at one corner. The cursive of the handwriting is plain, unstylized, but the ink is a deep, shimmering black, so dark and preserved it's almost hard to look away from.

Toto-Rak Dweller's Notes (1)First Spear Rydel, wandering the dark...The glow on the walls—did you mistake it for light?Count your companions, this one thinks. One torch sputters, one footfall fades.Culling as the maw so bids...

An off-green bottle with a few nicks and scrapes down the side. Within it is a stained and torn parchment written in fancy handwriting. There's a droplet stain at the top. Ale, maybe? It smells faintly of it.

Dear Lullert,I’ve heard Buscarron’s Druthers has been getting a lot of folks passing through lately. The proprieter told me Tuesdays are their busiest nights lately.I know someone as busy as you probably can’t keep track of every tavern in the Twelveswood. Sometimes I forget not everyone has all the free time I do!It’s a tavern in the South Shroud, just west of Quarrymill. You know Quarrymill right?It’s a nice spot to grab an ale, listen to a bard, and forget your troubles. Last week, I even saw someone dancing with swords!Let me know if you want to check it out sometime. Could be a nice little break. You could use one.Love,
Bert

A long-necked bottle with half of a cork jammed back into it. Once upon a time, it held red wine, maybe. It smells faintly of it. Visible within is a torn piece from a journal.

I wish I had never met him. What a sodding scumbag.
I wish he would’ve never gone into my life.
Things would be so much better.

A bottle with a chipped neck and half of a cork jammed back into it. Once upon a time, it held white wine, maybe. It smells faintly of it. Visible within is a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
A circle of mushrooms on a lone stump. It smells to me of treasure, almost certainly. Alas this close to Gridania, someone is bound to have found the answers...

A clear wine bottle cracked down the side. Visible within is a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
Seeing the clouds pass below us, an airship is often more lonely than even the azure seas of the open ocean. That is until a floating isle passes you by... what mysteries might be hidden away? If I were a sky pirate, I'd hide my loot here.

An amber bottle with the outline of a label still faintly visible. It smells faintly of ale. Visible within is a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
I have no idea what she wishes to find. Old statues will not hold long lost recipes... I almost believe she wishes to start an argument with the other one.

A clear rum bottle, long-necked and elegant, but cracked along one side of the lip, with grains of sand trapped inside along with a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
Would have been a great shot. Ruined by the eager sword. No damage to the equipment thank the gods.

A weathered green wine bottle, its glass scuffed and foggy. Visible within is a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
Where even was this? Gods film isn't cheap.

An amber bottle with the outline of a label still faintly visible. It smells faintly of ale. Visible within is a rolled up photograph...

Written on the back:
Reminder to fix the sensitivity on the shutter release. Too early.

A faintly cobalt-blue liqueur bottle, decorative but worn, with embossed patterns scratchy from salt-spray and general rough handling. The letter within it... is no letter at all! Sure, there's a piece of rolled up parchment, but it's blank. Rolled up within the... rolled up blank paper is a napkin with a sloppy note written on it.

Your date is a scumbag
Will be at the Bobbing Cork for a fortnight
Let me buy you a drink instead?
Ask for Gab at the front desk
PS I'm not a murderer, I just thought you were beautiful and deserve better

An old brown beer bottle with a sizable crack down the side holds a neat looking rolled up parchment.

I'm pleased to hear that you're interested in working alongside me in these endeavors, While I'm making it a profession here in Eorzea, it-- in truth, is a practice from home. The study and exorcism of these Ba'als. Not unlike that of a neighbor's exorcism, one in which I'm all too familiar with. If, however, you are still up to the task of learning more on these entities and the information gathered from the Key of Arcadia; do stop by Wychwood. (Mateus, Empyreum; W7 P32)I'll be awaiting your final answer. I know your nerves have kept you rather flighty as of late, but trust in me to be the proper guiding hand in your journey, won't you? There are few I would trust with information from the Orthodoxy, after all.

An off-green bottle with a few nicks and scrapes down the side holds a rolled up piece of parchment, with a rather sinister recipe written on it.

3x Belladona
~~ 4x Imp Fur ~~
1x Spider Silk
1x Ruby
1/2 cup moon waterCrush ruby to a fine powder. Add in ingredients and bring to boil. Stir constantly until reaction occurs.

What's this? An actually clear, long-necked bottle and not an old, smelly, brown beer bottle? Wow!

Dear Meymey,I think the boggarts got ahold of my shoe again.... I can't find it. I feel bad, especially after you got me these new pairs. Oh. Was I supposed to keep those a secret still? There was a name on the bottom of one of them, and I had to scrub it off. Sirius was caught wandering the halls again. And despite my permit for him, a lot of people are still unsettled. You'd think they wouldn't throw such a fit.... Am I not allowed to leave my dorm until I have my shoe again? If so, you should just stop by and carry me into town to get a new set. You need help with some of your tasks today anyway, right? I'm hungry.... we can stop for food while we're at it."- Adalet Clairmont