07-27-2015, 12:44 PM
What the hunter said bewildered him—a region called Yharnam During Wakka’s pilgrimage with Yuna he had been many places, and mapped the entire world; Yharnam did not exist on Spira. Not his Spira, though he had heard more awkward stories during his life. One happened to even be true. Either way, he injected the thought of a Yharnam with his usual concoction of denial and doubt serum, and pushed the issue to the far reaches of his mind.
“It could be,” Wakka replied, and raised a gentle smile to hide the lie. “For da second question, I’m not sure.” He stole a glance to the left and right—it all looked the same, minus a blotch in the corner of his right peripherals, but he dismissed it. “You’re the only person I’ve seen here, so probably not much longer than you, ya?”
“Interesting,” Eileen whispered. The hunter tilted the tip of her mask to the ground for a moment, but then popped back up and pointed it to Wakka’s right. “Did you hear that?”
The blitzballer went to ask the obvious question—what sound?—but before he could it was answered for him; he caught a faint clomping, and whipped his head to the right. The noise belonged to the blotch he dismissed earlier.
Eileen and Wakka shared a moment of silence as they watched the blotch in the distance slowly come into focus, and form into a human riding a brown, four-legged beast.
The approaching person wore a full outfit of metal armor. In one hand he held the reins to his beast, regulating its pace. The other hand gripped a long spear, which he kept upright by his side, unyielding to the rocking motion his body acquired from the beast’s strut. His mount’s feet echoed off the ground, producing the clomp sound Eileen had noticed. Every few steps the beast bobbed and jolted its head, and the strip of hair running down the back of its neck would swat the air.
“Whatchu think up with this guy?” Wakka inquired, glancing back at Eileen. He shrugged a string off his shoulder and swung his bag around to his yellow overalls, cradling it in his arm as his opposite—left—hand dug into it.
“Not sure,” the hunter responded, never sparking an aggressive motion. She kept her stance firm, and her beaked mask pointed towards the approaching person. “Let’s give him or her an opportunity before we take any measures.
Wakka gritted his teeth, but pulled his hand out of the bag empty. He thought about going against Eileen’s wishes (unveil his blitzball, and bank shot it off the ground so it ricochets right under the beast’s belly), but calmed himself before taking action, and eventually responded with an uneasy nod.
“It could be,” Wakka replied, and raised a gentle smile to hide the lie. “For da second question, I’m not sure.” He stole a glance to the left and right—it all looked the same, minus a blotch in the corner of his right peripherals, but he dismissed it. “You’re the only person I’ve seen here, so probably not much longer than you, ya?”
“Interesting,” Eileen whispered. The hunter tilted the tip of her mask to the ground for a moment, but then popped back up and pointed it to Wakka’s right. “Did you hear that?”
The blitzballer went to ask the obvious question—what sound?—but before he could it was answered for him; he caught a faint clomping, and whipped his head to the right. The noise belonged to the blotch he dismissed earlier.
Eileen and Wakka shared a moment of silence as they watched the blotch in the distance slowly come into focus, and form into a human riding a brown, four-legged beast.
The approaching person wore a full outfit of metal armor. In one hand he held the reins to his beast, regulating its pace. The other hand gripped a long spear, which he kept upright by his side, unyielding to the rocking motion his body acquired from the beast’s strut. His mount’s feet echoed off the ground, producing the clomp sound Eileen had noticed. Every few steps the beast bobbed and jolted its head, and the strip of hair running down the back of its neck would swat the air.
“Whatchu think up with this guy?” Wakka inquired, glancing back at Eileen. He shrugged a string off his shoulder and swung his bag around to his yellow overalls, cradling it in his arm as his opposite—left—hand dug into it.
“Not sure,” the hunter responded, never sparking an aggressive motion. She kept her stance firm, and her beaked mask pointed towards the approaching person. “Let’s give him or her an opportunity before we take any measures.
Wakka gritted his teeth, but pulled his hand out of the bag empty. He thought about going against Eileen’s wishes (unveil his blitzball, and bank shot it off the ground so it ricochets right under the beast’s belly), but calmed himself before taking action, and eventually responded with an uneasy nod.