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year 5, quarter 3
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Yuna throws a quip in Clyde’s direction, almost like she had tossed a coin in the hopes that it would land on the correct side and get him to show a sense of humor; a bold move, not entirely dissimilar to the remarks of a certain free-wheeling gambler he once knew. Though he was a far cry from being anywhere near amicable, someone else would have accused her of asking for trouble by making comments such as that one. “Unless someone has it out for you,” Clyde said, shrugging tersely, even as his face, or what could be seen of it, remained visibly indifferent, “I doubt that’ll happen.” He didn’t take her joke personally. Good for Yuna. Must be her lucky day.
After going out of her way to state the obvious, Clyde simply watched as Yuna practically traipsed off in the direction of a nearby alleyway, some side-street he’d neglected to pay much attention to on account of how nondescript it was, mentioning that she knew of a good blacksmith outside the commercial square.
As she turns around to shepherd her new ward, a twinkle of color reaches his eyes. An inlaid jewel—no, several—set in precious metal, carefully shaped to resemble what could only be the hilt of a small knife, tucked discreetly within Yuna’s gown in such a way that only a keen eye would ever notice its presence. As fast as he had glimpsed it, the weapon vanished entirely out of sight.
Clyde hummed shortly, trailing behind Yuna as he quietly speculated over the weapon’s alleged purpose. Was she expecting to be mugged or something? If that were the case, why defend herself with such an elaborate looking knife? Any thief with the proper sense and a large enough window of opportunity would have used it to cut her throat before claiming the dagger for themselves, whereas any maniac only needed one of these to achieve the same results. Has she ever taken a life with it before? Injured someone with it? Does she even know how to hold it properly, much less use it?
Redundant speculations, and nothing else. Clyde took a deep breath in, then exhaled, clearing his mind of all the clutter that had materialized from an otherwise related ability to spot weapons at the briefest of glances.
Passing by the premises of a leather worker’s shop, the tight-lipped man inhales through flared nostrils, savoring the odor of animal hides in the various stages of treatment as Yuna levels another query his way, seemingly hellbent on getting him to speak more about himself, or simply as a matter of getting him to speak more in general, even as she expressed having once gone fishing before, and had grown up in an island nation. The tone of her voice gave away the hesitation she felt over the subject, how it must make her cringe to think about the darkest, slimiest parts of basic human survival. He could only imagine the shock on Yuna’s face if she ever came to find out that Clyde was mostly a vegetarian.
Regarding her inquiry, Clyde found himself unable to offer Yuna the simple truth where it mattered most. “...Long enough,” would be his answer all the same. He was no hunter. Not in the sense that she was hoping for, anyway. About the only things he’d have in common with such a character would be a sense of self-sufficiency and a penchant for living close to the wilderness. “Is that the place over there?”
[attr=class,bulk] The man at Yuna’s side made…possibly a quip in return? He at least stated that she had nothing to worry about as long as no one had it out for her. The summoner made a thoughtful noise at that before smiling up at him. “You’d be surprised.” Leaving aside the entire church of Yevon, a strangely high number of people had tried to kill her since she’d come to Zephon. Caius had literally just warned her the other day that the mercenary Alex wanted her dead because of her ability to summon. That was one of the stranger reasons so far, but at least this one wasn’t personal.
Come to think of it, the man’s dry statement may have been meant to imply that he was some sort of hit man, so Yuna was going to assume that it had been a joke after all. She was a little proud of him for it. It was a start.
Despite her attempts to make conversation on the way to the blacksmith, he didn’t seem particularly interested. Far from being surprised at this point, Yuna just tried not to giggle at his response of how long he’d been hunting. Perfectly vague and revealing absolutely nothing about himself. He was really a master at this. “Yes that’s it,” she answered, still doing her best to keep a straight face when he pointed out a brick building with wood trim and asked if that was the blacksmith. It was probably obvious even without the sign—the windows were thrown wide and the distinct sound of the hammer and anvil could be heard from the street as they drew closer. “Let’s see if he has anything that will work for your tools?”
Striding through the front door, Yuna glanced around the front room of the shop a bit curiously to see if anything had changed. It had been a while since she and Celes had visited, but the basic layout at least still seemed to be the same. Tools were out on display to their left while weapons were kept behind a counter to the right. She supposed they didn’t want just anybody charging in and stealing knives. It didn’t sound like the man she was with was in the market for a new dagger though, so Yuna kept to the left side of the shop today. There were one or two other patrons milling around, and one was currently haggling with the woman behind the counter, so it seemed they had a moment to look around for themselves. Through a doorway near the back, Yuna could also just catch a glimpse of a man laboring over the forge.
“They also do commissions,” the summoner supplied—she hoped helpfully—but mostly she stood back and let him look. He was the one actually shopping after all.
Then pray it never comes down to that. Like a centipede’s hundred legs, the words skitter intrusively through Clyde’s mind, even though his own sense of discipline kept him from verbalizing this thought to Yuna. Her own statement seemed more like an admission of awareness than anything he could write off as innocuous or off-handed, like she somehow knew what he meant when he expressed doubt over the likelihood of being used as fertilizer for somebody else’s flower bed. This begged the question: just how many enemies does this woman actually have?
He snorts inaudibly. Either Yuna was being intentionally coy with him, or she’s more than just a simple healer physically bungling her way through the marketing process. Clyde didn’t really care which way it went, so long as her problems stayed away from his doorstep at the end of the day.
Soon enough, the banging of hammers against anvils reaches his ears, followed by the approaching sight of the blacksmith’s establishment in question; the smell of burning coals and metal slag gave it away. “Mm.” It was the closest he’d gotten to verbally agreeing with Yuna, ergo a vast improvement over how he’d been communicating with her thus far. She would stroll her way inside, leaving him to walk in afterward with slow, deliberate bootsteps.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The first person to notice their arrival had been the woman standing behind the counter, who caught only the briefest glimpse of Yuna’s colorful dress as it practically flowed toward the shop’s leftmost side. Her mouth had begun to form the vestiges of an eager smile until her eyes fell upon the cloaked man, visibly widening in unmistakable anxiety as all the color in her face practically drained away.
Noticing the shopkeeper’s abrupt distress, the patron currently engaged with her took a quick glance over his shoulder, only for his own expression to show the exact same degree of transparent concern as soon as it finally dawned on him—he’s here…
Without any warning, the would-be customer swiftly moves to grab the other one, another young man who had accompanied him into the shop moments before Yuna and Clyde came in, urging him via harsh whispers that they needed to leave, immediately. No arguments or further exchanges of words were necessary, and the two shoppers beeline for the open door until they vanish from sight entirely, never to be seen again.
Clyde stifled himself from groaning in annoyance. This wasn’t the first time something like that had occurred since he started living in this town, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Whatever. It just meant faster shopping. He would take Yuna’s note about their acceptance of commission work into consideration for later.
The moment the tension had grown thick enough to where it could be sliced into with a knife, the woman behind the counter, after signaling to the man at the forge to stand by as a “just in case measure”, took it upon herself to address the new arrivals, “H-Hello, good to see you!” The tone of her voice is accommodating and sympathetic, but not without its notes of nervous anticipation. “I-Is there anything that you need help finding?”
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Sluggish, ambling footsteps bring Clyde closer to the counter until his glunching expressions could be seen in greater detail, how he looked perpetually tired, as in, tired of having to be in the presence of other people. Despite the enormous anxiety presently being displayed by both shopkeeper and forgemaster, he was actively doing nothing to provoke these feelings of unease, apart from simply existing in the same space as them.
Best get this out of the way, then…
Clyde softly exhales, his shoulders partially slouching down. “I need a woodcutting axe. A spade. And a knife.” His requests are paced as slow as his footsteps had been. Nothing about his list was out of the ordinary, given that he had come to the appropriate venue. He wasn’t causing trouble, either. Now, if only he’d say— “...Please.” There it is.
“Axes and spades are near the young missus over on th’left side there with all th’ tools ‘n’ such,” called out the forgemaster with something of a yokel’s accent, “Knives ‘n’ all yer weapons’ll be on th’right side.” Even his voice seemed like it belonged to somebody who had no idea what to expect from Clyde, yet fully determined to avoid crossing whatever threshold might set him off, even though the sour-faced customer harbored no conscious intentions of starting any problems with these people, random strangers all. Assumptions really were running rampant today…
“Hn.” Clyde merely gives the pair of workers a single affirmative nod, swivels on the heels of his boots, then follows the forgemaster’s directions by making his way to the left side of the shop, scanning the wall intently for the objects of his focus. Hay knives, dibbers, hand plows, threshing boards, pitchforks, sickles, scythes; mostly standard farming equipment, but nothing he needed right now.
Another brief look near an adjacent spot would reveal the presence of three separate woodcutting axes leaning up against the wall, each one in different sizes yet roughly similar in their shape and material construction. Without a second thought, he reached for the smallest of the three axes, and carefully positioned it in his free hand to make room for a spade in case he found one, making sure to keep its sharpened blade away from anything it could accidentally cut.
Hardly any effort needed to be spent to find the digging tool in question, of which Clyde picked the tallest one available to him. Two items down. Now he just needed a knife.
As Clyde meandered his way toward the section where all the blades were being kept, paying no mind to anyone else, the shopkeeper and the smithy took the window of opportunity created by his distraction to cast worried looks in Yuna’s direction. “Let us know if you’d like help, too, okay?” the lady behind the counter asked, doing her best to put on as immaculate of a front as she could in the face of all the uncertainty that hung in the air.
[attr=class,bulk] The man made a small noise of agreement when Yuna asked if he wanted to check out what the blacksmith had to offer. It wasn’t much, but he had at least acknowledged her presence, so she considered that a success as she led him inside. The woman behind the counter was currently busy with another shopper, but she still gave Yuna a friendly customer service smile before looking over at her companion. Yuna had expected much of the same to be directed towards him, but instead the lady looked suddenly downright anxious. Even worse, the mood seemed to spread to the two other patrons currently in the shop as they shared a whispered conversation before quickly departing. Honestly, Yuna even threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see if someone frightening had come in the door behind her, but it was still just the rather sour man she’d been leading around.
Well that didn’t paint a very good picture.
The woman asked if they needed help with anything—though Yuna didn’t miss that she sounded nervous—and the man approached the counter to lay out the same hunting needs that he’d told Yuna before. The forgemaster directed him over by her for the tools, and as her companion came close to her in order to pick an axe off the wall, the summoner lowered her voice to a whisper. “You haven’t robbed them before, have you?” For being still new to Provo, he clearly had quite the reputation already. And one that provoked that much fear wasn’t likely to be a good one. Still, Yuna turned and smiled at the shopkeeper like she hadn’t just accused the stranger of being a thief when the woman asked if she needed help with anything.
“Actually, maybe I’ll look at knives too. I was thinking of retiring my old one,” Yuna admitted. It wasn’t that anything was wrong with it—she just had a hard time looking at it anymore without picturing it sticking out of Kimahri’s chest. It was good to have a small weapon—particularly in areas where she couldn’t easily bring her staff—but it was probably better to start fresh with a blade that wasn’t layered in bad memories.
Yuna crossed the store to look at their selection—at a quick glance they seemed more functional than stylized, which prompted the summoner to ask a question so she could narrow down her search. “Do you have any that enhance magic right now? My staff does that too of course, but it’s a little big to bring around everywhere.” The shopkeeper helpfully pulled out a few for her to look at before she went over to assist the other man too. Yuna looked over a few options before carefully lifting a curved edge knife. It wasn’t as ornate as the jeweled one currently sheathed beneath her sash, but the hilt had a wave pattern that reminded her a little of how the ocean had looked from the shores of Besaid. She was sorely tempted to give it a try. Maybe she could put up the old one in a display next to Kimahri’s staff. That might be nice.
“How’s it going on your end?” Yuna asked, looking over to see if he’d found anything he liked.
Between the time it took for Clyde to pick out a suitable axe for woodcutting and make his way toward the space where all the knives were being kept on display, Yuna had somehow drawn the conclusion that her sour-faced companion had previously burglarized this honest establishment at a previous point. It was to be expected, really, seeing that he’d already characterized himself as “the silent type” since she started interacting with him.
But for her to blatantly ask if he had stolen from them before, as if dropping her voice down to a whisper would make her sound any less suspicious? This was a whole new dimension of ignorance, Clyde realized, even as he deliberately ignored Yuna’s interrogation with a decidedly sharper edge to his usual aura of coldness; it was the sort of disdain that he only ever expressed whenever a person thought it sincerely intelligent to ask dumb questions in mundane situations. If he had robbed these people before, did she really believe they would just let him walk back in without calling the guards first?Honestly, some people…
In another pivot, Yuna then voiced her own interest in their selection of small blades. After a deep breath in, lungs full of air stained with the scent of burning wood and coal dust, two flared nostrils let out a long, defeated sigh. Probably her way of “keeping an eye on him” or some baloney. Whatever makes her feel secure, I guess. Clyde thought, fully focused on examining the assortment of implements that were being sold as weapons as he passively overheard the others hold a conversation about tools that could fortify magical abilities.
Yet, the more he browsed, the less he appreciated what was being offered to him. He had expected knives, but found mostly daggers instead. The distinction was small, but highly important for a discerning buyer. Daggers could be used for cutting, of course, but were primarily designed for thrusting and stabbing; they were meant to find their way into places that larger weapons could not access. Clyde needed something robust, something durable, more…all-purpose. A multi-functional tool, as opposed to an instrument of combat.
As he concentrated on his mental profile of the ideal purchase, an item matching his exact needs had practically popped out from the display where it rested, positioned among the more valuable pieces in such a way that it almost implied like the shopkeepers were trying to hide it. Compared to the others, this one was extraordinarily plain. Why, though? The question gave Clyde the incentive he needed to carefully reach for the knife so that he could pull it closer.
Twelves inches total, with a steel blade nine-and-a-quarter inches long, one-and-a-half inches wide, and a quarter-of-an-inch thick. Single cutting edge, with a prominent clip point near the weapon’s back. An S-shaped brass guard, attached to a handle fashioned out of polished mahogany. Clyde turned the knife a couple of times until he recognized a noticeable notch near the base of the blade where it met the guard. Anybody that wasn't knowledgeable about the myriad variations between knives might be inclined to think that this one looked closer to being a miniature saber.
But as the surface of the blade reflected his hollow and unexpressive gaze back to him, Clyde came to a different conclusion: this one looked perfect.
Carefully, he brought all three of the items to the counter, placing them delicately against its surface one by one to free up hand space. It was quite bizarre, really—or was it preposterous?—for somebody allegedly guilty of robbing these people before to be so conscientious about how he treated their belongings. Almost like Yuna was wrong or something. Maybe no one will ever know, Clyde sarcastically thought to himself as he reached for his waist to retrieve the leather satchel that he used as a money wallet. “How much?” he asked, wholly indifferent to the tension that seemed to practically hang from the rafters.
As the middle-aged woman leaned over to form a tally, she took notice of the knife he had selected, then gave Clyde a rather nonplussed stare, clearly unable to assess why he might want this particular one as opposed to the many others that were far better quality. “Are you sure you want this one? This old thing’s antique. In fact, these sorts of knives no longer get made anymore.”
Clyde’s expression did not change in the slightest. “It’s fine,” he assured her, his voice turning coarse from the strain of having to follow social protocol. “I can pay for it.” Five-thousand gil. Those were the funds he had to work with until he took on another job that paid well enough. And none of these articles seemed like they were in short supply or high demand, either.
Hearing the shopkeeper try to convince Clyde out of buying the vintage knife, the forgemaster felt inclined to chime in with his own opinion. “It’s not about th’ money, sir,” he spoke up apologetically, “The market for those knives simply don’t exist no more. But that—that particular one’s got a real bad reputation clingin’ on to it.” Pointing in the direction of the aforementioned object, his expression formed a half-wince, as though he were loath to speak too loudly about the matter. “Lotta tragedy occurred ‘cause ‘ah that one, and I’d hate to see anyone else get hurt by it. Least of all, a payin’ customer.”
Clyde blinked. Very, very slowly. “...you’re telling me this knife is cursed.” An eyebrow arches upward, visible, even beneath his long hair.
The lady behind the counter frowned. “Unbelievably so.”
His gaze unyielding as marble, without a single trace of fear, Clyde simply looked back at the woman. It was probably a tactic to drum up allure, make it seem more dangerous than it really is. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Both shopkeeper and forgemaster gulped audibly as all semblance of optimism for Yuna’s companion had collapsed into a knowing sadness, an implicit revelation of how broadly this saga of misfortune had affected the lives of those involved. In the back of their minds, they understood that, sooner or later, this blade would wind up back in their possession again, ready to spread a new wave of misfortune the moment someone else took a shine to it; that this one knife might some day result in the destruction of all they had built with their bare hands. They both gave each other a look of mutual assurance, ready to accept the consequences for their actions, before the woman behind the counter simply nodded her head, wordlessly telling Clyde that his was final.
“Thirteen hundred gil, sir.” she squeaked.
Clyde blinked again. More quickly, this time. “That seems…low.” Especially for three tools.
“Like I said, sir,” she reiterated with a more deliberate pace to her tone, “...the old thing’s antique.”
Feeling his browline hardening in deep thought, Clyde tilted his head imperceptibly to the side, thumbing his bearded chin. His eyes travel around the room, looking at nothing in particular, until they fell back onto the supposedly “cursed knife”. Hell, the damn thing looked like it hadn’t seen a whetstone for years—
—That’s right, shit. He needed those, too. “Do you carry whetstones?” Clyde asked, placidly, further surprising the pair with his utter resilience to their own palpable desire to avoid perpetuating further catastrophe upon a world that needed no more of it.
“We only carry oilstones,” tersely answered the forgemaster, “it’s a thousand per stone.” He never needed to say it out loud; the intensity of his words gave their seemingly stubborn customer all he needed to know about how long he had to finalize his purchase.
He didn’t need long to reach a decision. “Sure.” Reaching for his waist, Clyde loosens the leather satchel he used as his wallet, pulling it upward to reach inside it with gloved fingers. As the shopkeeper withdrew a single piece of smooth gray stone, he’d finished counting out a total of twenty-three hundred gil—certainly no meager sum of money, given all he was looking to purchase here—and gently piled it onto the counter’s surface for her to confirm at leisure.
Beginning with the old-fashioned knife, Clyde tucked the steel blade near the left side of his waist until it rested securely against his body, unable to escape or fall free. The axe could be carried with its head aimed toward the ground alongside the shovel in this manner, whereas the oilstone slipped neatly into one of the various miniature pockets on his person.
Once he was fully situated, Clyde gave both proprietors a slight downward nod of acknowledgement for their service, turned on his heels, then slowly walked his way out the door until his form seemed to vanish entirely out of sight.
——————
…At least, that’s what Clyde wanted to do, but he still needed this woman’s help, thus, he was required to wait for her to finish wrapping up whatever business she might have here. Until then, he opted to lean against the nearest wall, just a few steps away from the blacksmith’s door, listlessly observing the details of the alleyway with all the senses available to him. Not like he had anything better to do…
But it may have also given Yuna a window to ask about why her companion had provoked so much dread in the first place. Provided they could collect themselves after the fact, anyway…
[attr=class,bulk] The man looked irritated at Yuna’s accusation that he may have been a thief, though he predictably didn’t say anything. On her end, the summoner stifled a smile as she turned her attention towards the knives on sale. After being ignored all morning, it was a tiny bit satisfying to have annoyed him. She didn’t love the reputation that he seemed to have gained around Provo though, and she planned to ask him more in earnest once they left the shop. He probably wouldn’t tell her of course, but it was worth a try. Alternatively she could also listen to the local gossip about him, but she wasn’t keen to do that. After being declared a traitor of Yevon, she was quite aware of just how wrong stories could get when they were twisted through the court of public opinion.
He also didn’t answer her question about how his own shopping was going, though he brought everything to the counter which was probably answer enough in itself. The shopkeeper and forgemaster both tried to dissuade him from his particular choice in knife, and Yuna leaned over to look at it with some interest. Particularly when they declared it cursed.“I wonder if Dispel or Esuna would help at all with-...You meant that figuratively, didn’t you? Nevermind. Carry on,” Yuna said with a sigh as she once again faded into the background of the sale. After dedicating her life to being a white mage summoner, maybe it was only natural that she leapt to action upon hearing that something was ‘cursed.’ She could read between the lines of what they’d actually meant though. A lot of people had been killed by that blade, and she watched the man out of the corner of her eye as he finished up his shopping. He didn’t seem particularly concerned about that fact, or that his own life might be in danger. He was starting to be a walking pile of red flags, and someone had to be as blatant as Maester Seymour before she generally took notice of something like that.
After he was finished, he left the store without so much as a backward glance, which was probably a sign to hurry up with her shopping. She looked down at the dagger that she’d been considering again. It promised a fresh start and yet…as heavy as her current one felt sometimes when she remembered what had happened in the Headstone Forest, they had been through a lot together. Maybe she needed more time to really consider what she wanted. Or if she even wanted a new one. “Thank you. These are beautifully done, but I don’t think I’m ready to buy yet today,” Yuna said politely, giving them both a short bow before turning to follow him outside.
“Ma’am!” The shopkeeper called after her, and Yuna turned back to see what she had to say. Was it her imagination, or did she and the forgemaster exchange an uneasy glance over his shoulder as he returned to the hearth? “...Be safe out there,” the woman settled on, and the summoner gave her a small smile in return. This was her best chance to ask what her companion’s deal was, but Yuna wanted to hear it straight from him. Even if that made her naive. “I’ll do my best,” she promised—hopefully not lying—as she finally left through the front door.
The man had actually waited for her. Part of her was surprised, but then again they hadn’t completed everything on his shopping list quite yet. “So…what does that leave? Your hunting supplies?” She remembered snares and rope had been on his mind at least, both of which would probably be in more of a general goods store. Yuna considered the quickest route to one of those as she glanced over at him and his new knife. "Unless you want to tell me what all that was about…”
Waiting for Yuna had been thoroughly uneventful. Lacking a way to pass the time constructively, Clyde listlessly stared at the cobblestones beneath his feet while his mind wandered on something of a short leash, mulling over the likelihood of her being caught up in a dialogue with the shopkeepers inside. As for what the conversation was about, however, he didn’t really give a shit. He just expected her to make it fast.
As if her timing couldn’t be any more perfect, the door swung open at last. As she emerged from the shop, a cursory glance in her direction had told Clyde that Yuna hadn’t left with anything new or different from what she already carried on her. Considering how close her departure was to his own, it also meant that she didn’t spend much time talking with the store owners, either.
No; apparently, she was more determined to extract the truth from its apparent source, instead. But Clyde was perceptive enough to see through Yuna’s ploy, taking into consideration her blatant attempt to remind herself of all that was left for him to purchase before trying to urge him, rather conspicuously, into explaining all that had occurred inside the shop mere moments ago.
Clyde was also perceptive enough to understand what Yuna had actually meant, but could not bring herself to ask aloud, whatever those reasons may be. What kind of a person was he to provoke such intense fear in others, that some would even flee at the very sight of him? Why would he willingly choose to buy a weapon with an alleged lingering history of causing wanton mayhem?
This time, Clyde rolled his eyes. At this point, it was hard not to. She probably couldn’t recognize a grift unless it just walked up and outright slapped her in the face. “Beats me,” he said with all the elegance of an iron sledgehammer colliding against a brick wall, lifting himself off the one he’d been leaning against so that he could gather his belongings in hand. The knife at his waist disappeared beneath the folds of his cloak as it settled over the rest of his frame, barely an afterthought in its new owner’s mind, even with the knowledge of it being supposedly cursed. “...Hunting gear’s next, yeah.”
Curiosity wasn’t a feeling that Clyde liked to indulge, when—and if—he could help it. But Yuna’s dogged refusal to simply stay in her own lane, on top of her flagrant accusations of thievery, had made him quietly reconsider paying her clinic a visit later on in the evening. Or anytime soon, for that matter. These blacksmiths were probably worth avoiding, also, even though he’d never bought from their establishment until just recently.
From now on, he’d start shopping later in the day. Fuck this morning traffic bullshit.
[attr=class,bulk] The man didn’t look thrilled to still be hanging around, but she supposed that he was waiting for directions to the next shop. Honestly, what had just happened at the blacksmith’s shop was so inconsistent with him not knowing his way around Provo that it forced Yuna to stop and consider him for a moment. How could someone be known on sight and yet act like they had never visited the city center before? Either he rarely ventured into town, which meant he was infamous, or he’d been lying to her all morning and he knew his way around perfectly fine. Both of those options sent a flicker of unease through the summoner that she tried not to show as she sized him up.
For his part, he legitimately rolled his eyes at her when she asked for an explanation, which made Yuna press her lips together. She wasn’t surprised that he’d dodged the question, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. She thought it was perfectly reasonable to ask after patrons had literally fled rather than remain in a shop with him, but apparently he didn’t think so. Yuna really didn’t mind taking an hour or so to show strangers around, but this was getting a little dicey for her taste. She wasn’t the same person anymore who had gone to confront Maester Seymour alone without telling any of her guardians. She knew she could still be naive, but she at least had limits of what she was willing to walk into alone.
This situation wasn’t one of them. She still didn’t even know his name.
Straightening her back, the summoner clasped her hands in front of her and did her best to give him directions from this point. “There’s a general goods store that I like. It’s where I buy my ethers, but they also have rope and basic hunting supplies. Go back towards Help Wanted Avenue until you’ve passed the last stall, and then you’ll turn right at the chocobo stables. From there it’s a straight shot. ‘Provo Essentials.’ It’s near a monument to the founding fathers, so it’s pretty hard to miss.” Pausing for a moment, Yuna looked up at him again. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” But this was where they parted ways.
