This may entertain you, but I have no doubt it will surprise you.
The families of Ishgard all keep records of long passed family members. Despite the rather humble and murderous beginnings of the Charbonneau family line we are no exception.
The progenitor of my line was Sielle Charbonneau. He was a ‘denizen’ of the Brume that worked his way up from pilfering street urchin to one able to not only marry but provide his family a way to live by sheer will and ruthless determination. I shall leave the rather sordid affairs of his and his childrens rise to power out of this letter if it is all the same to you.
Sielle Charbonneau was in fact Duskwight not unlike yourself. He was one of the rare few Duskwight elezen that, aside from the rather more notable Dzmael family, managed to integrate himself into Ishgard before we ever closed our gates. While it is true that we have lost the ‘dusk’ of our progenitor in all ways but the raven black of our hair, it is still an interesting discovery none the less.
It make me curious as to other secrets that may be hiding in our family line what with the end of hostilities that were ever present during the Dragonsong war. There are no records as to the name of the woman that Sielle married and had a family with according to my research.
Who was she? Another Brume resident? A maid in a nobles household? A noble herself?
I may never know. I feel even if I did it would not altar who or what the Charbonneau family are today. This information may be of no use to you, but I found it interesting enough to share.
The inn is still quiet. All is going well. I’m still stuck in the same rut that plagued me as of my last letter but slowly I’m forcing myself out of it. It makes no sense to hesitate or be stuck. Something in my head keeps telling me I’m wrong but isn’t stagnating worse than attempting to keep walking?
I’ve watched the inn very well. Slow I’ve been nailing down every possible contingency or will. Even if its ridiculous it’s good to find weak spots and areas of possible trouble around the inn. To be aware of that will give a better chance of success if trouble ever came.
A few customers have been a bother here and there. But when you’ve faced drowning in a plate suit, a pistol to the face, or any other manner of life threatening things then someone who’s upset over sweet foods or a bed is nothing. I have been debating on leaving the inn when I’ve a day off. I tend to consider my shift ‘done’ when the bakery closes and remain aware in case I’m needed after. Sometimes the customers are an annoyance but I have chalked it down to under appreciation. Why complain about small, useless things? Life here is quiet, the food and drink are good, the inn is in good standing and repair.
I have little more to write on save that I have been working on getting more gil. I’m not certain what I’ll buy. Mayhaps a new sword or shield. I have recently gotten new boots. Or a armor stand to let my armor rest proper.
“Once I was alone and grew up in a cave. Then I became a pirate to find freedom. I found no freedom. I was broken in and fitted into a new mold to survive. I took my sword from the water and my combat skills from an old soldier. I left my old life and now I stand guard at an inn. It is quiet and the trouble here is very little. It is a good job.”
I did not work today. I wore my full metal armor suit and took to practice. I practiced and felt my sweat stain the cloth beneath the plate. Steel tore into straw and wood. My plate shield hummed as it hit wood.
I do not pretend to care about the greater good. There is no such thing as a perfect world. There will always be those that hunger and starve as the rich feed and glut themselves.Children will die because those older than they are are incompetent, making changes for themselves and not who comes after. But the one constant in the world is conflict. Whether it is words, politics, or fighting there is conflict.
I am used to a cycle of conflict, rest, conflict. Fight, bleed, rest and repeat. The inn is very silent as it should. But something within me refuses to lie down and accept silence. It doesn’t desire blood, rather it desires to feel sweat stain my clothes and sting my eyes. To feel the ache of my muscles and hear the whisper of steel in my ears. It desires the feel of blood and burns on flesh, to know that I am alive.
I fed that desire and let it drink deep before I returned to the inn. It was an accident on my part, carelessness. But I cut my arm deeply by accident. I pressed a dishcloth to the wound. The desire was not satisfied but no longer does it ride my skin like an itch.
I suppose this is what it’s like to have finally stopped. One cycle is broken and another has begun. But this cycle is so different than the old than habits still linger in the muscle and old demons wait in my mind for weakness.
I thought I had grown used to this inn and it’s habits. But old habits that linger tell me otherwise. I will go to the kitchen to stitch the cut on my arm and to wash the dishcloth.
Still awake. Still awake and missing his fiancee? Who knows and who knew? I am not good company nor am I good talkative company. But I did what i could. I brought him tea- Silene showed me how to steep it- and a blanket. I do not know him well but his gold eyes were gentle. Maybe he misses Felore more than I can guess.
I stood there as long as he stayed there. I am not good company. but I hope that, even a little bit, my silent presence helped. I would die for them as duty required of me. But that is not as comforting as I think they would find it.
Maybe I’ll ask about recipes next time, make him do most of the talking. or compliment his clothes? Everyone likes their boyfriend complimented but maybe that would cheer him.
Still awake. Still awake and missing his fiancee? Who knows and who knew? I am not good company nor am I good talkative company. But I did what i could. I brought him tea- Silene showed me how to steep it- and a blanket. I do not know him well but his gold eyes were gentle. Maybe he misses Felore more than I can guess.
I stood there as long as he stayed there. I am not good company. but I hope that, even a little bit, my silent presence helped. I would die for them as duty required of me. But that is not as comforting as I think they would find it.
Maybe I’ll ask about recipes next time, make him do most of the talking. or compliment his clothes? Everyone likes their boyfriend complimented but maybe that would cheer him.
Adrian blinked at the woman, slumped on the couch by the front door, head rocked back as she rested only half away. Exhausted from a hard days work it seemed and twitching a bit as she sighed, blinking blearily at him. The aura gave a twitch of his tail, wondering if she ever really left her armor.
When she shook off sleep only the memory of the red headed witch was left with the faint scent of citrus and spices. A blanket was pulled over her lap and a fresh tray of tea and her favorite muffins were left behind.
Tyleril Silversword 
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