[Etienne has traveled every corner of Eorzea, and he has never felt more out of place. Even the Allagan ruins had some context amidst their strange circuitry, but this is even less familiar, more alien. He stands at 6'4'', and his tall, pointed, wide-brimmed hat (traditional for practitioners of destructive magic) makes him appear even taller. His long, deep purple robe also seems a bit out of place here, as does large staff strapped to his back. Long silver-lavender hair, dark make up and sparkling earrings adorning each pointed ear complete a look he's spent more than his fair share of time perfecting. Here, in this context, he surely only looks strange, as strange as anyone else here looks to him. The staff is quite an intricate thing, silvery, the top resembling a flame or comet set with a round violet stone. He knows that people don't really live here, at least not people like him who have precious little understanding about how any of it works. He's to be deciding on a new place to live, soon. He doesn't much like the idea of having his fate assigned to him this way, but there isn't much to be done about it. Not yet, anyway. Not without more information.
He runs his gloved fingertips along the line of a window sill, bringing it up to find it free of dust or lint. Everything here seems clean, un-lived-in.]
Allagan nonsense... I never thought I would find myself this far above the clouds. [Etienne can't help but remark, mostly under his breath.]
B. Escoria
[There's something wrong. Etienne's large, sensitive ears can feel it - or maybe it is just something familiar. He's heard sirens, fought them before. Wax in the ears was only a temporary solution. But out in the water, he sees someone familiar. Fair-haired and jolly, one of the only kind faces among so many dour, untrusting one. Oh, do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero...]
My friend? Are you not at Halone's side?
[The mage shakes himself, but he's gotten too close, trying to see what lies beneath the surface, trying to make sense of what he saw and heard against his better judgment. Etienne looses his footing on a slippery rock, and tumbles into the cold water. And once he's below the surface, it's as he feared, something has a hold of him. It grabs tight to his robe and drags him further down. He cannot call the ley lines, or pull from his own aether to cast a spell here.
This is not how he ever intended to die. He really wanted to go more prettily. Or with a great burst of fire.]
Warrior of Light - Etienne Clairemont (OC) | Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward
[Etienne has traveled every corner of Eorzea, and he has never felt more out of place. Even the Allagan ruins had some context amidst their strange circuitry, but this is even less familiar, more alien. He stands at 6'4'', and his tall, pointed, wide-brimmed hat (traditional for practitioners of destructive magic) makes him appear even taller. His long, deep purple robe also seems a bit out of place here, as does large staff strapped to his back. Long silver-lavender hair, dark make up and sparkling earrings adorning each pointed ear complete a look he's spent more than his fair share of time perfecting. Here, in this context, he surely only looks strange, as strange as anyone else here looks to him. The staff is quite an intricate thing, silvery, the top resembling a flame or comet set with a round violet stone. He knows that people don't really live here, at least not people like him who have precious little understanding about how any of it works. He's to be deciding on a new place to live, soon. He doesn't much like the idea of having his fate assigned to him this way, but there isn't much to be done about it. Not yet, anyway. Not without more information.
He runs his gloved fingertips along the line of a window sill, bringing it up to find it free of dust or lint. Everything here seems clean, un-lived-in.]
Allagan nonsense... I never thought I would find myself this far above the clouds. [Etienne can't help but remark, mostly under his breath.]
B. Escoria
[There's something wrong. Etienne's large, sensitive ears can feel it - or maybe it is just something familiar. He's heard sirens, fought them before. Wax in the ears was only a temporary solution. But out in the water, he sees someone familiar. Fair-haired and jolly, one of the only kind faces among so many dour, untrusting one. Oh, do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero...]
My friend? Are you not at Halone's side?
[The mage shakes himself, but he's gotten too close, trying to see what lies beneath the surface, trying to make sense of what he saw and heard against his better judgment. Etienne looses his footing on a slippery rock, and tumbles into the cold water. And once he's below the surface, it's as he feared, something has a hold of him. It grabs tight to his robe and drags him further down. He cannot call the ley lines, or pull from his own aether to cast a spell here.
This is not how he ever intended to die. He really wanted to go more prettily. Or with a great burst of fire.]