eachdraidh | video; open to both courts.

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[ When Gabranth takes a moment's rest from the hunt to address his locket, it's without his helm in sight...or much of his plate at all, really. There's little need for the clank of his armor to make this task any more difficult, after all.

No, he's opted for lighter gear this time, though not so light as to afford little protection against the cold. He's leaning back against a tree, cloak pulled tight about his shoulders, while a large chocobo — dark black in hue, down to its very beak — fluffs its feathers and preens itself behind him. ]

Two months have passed since first I found myself in this Drabwurld, and yet still it presents me with unexpected turns... Long have I known war, and long have I taken part in it. Yet not once have I ever known of any faction that would bid its warriors to take as their greatest priority a ritual so arcane as this.

[ He pauses for just a moment, mulling it over. The chocobo behind him seems to have taken notice, and is now watching the locket with keen interest. ]

But I do suppose what would be seen as exceptionally unusual in Ivalice could hardly be considered so in a world such as this. Not where gods and creatures of legend are demonstrably known to be far more than that — mere legend...

[ If he intends to continue on that line of thought, he doesn't get a chance, as the chocobo shoves its head past his shoulder in an attempt to snap and bite at the locket. ]

Stop that. [ He clucks his tongue, holds the locket out of reach with one hand, and shoves the bird's head away with the other, to which it responds with an agitated wark but makes no effort to resist.

Gabranth gives the locket one last, brief address before he snaps it shut: ] My apologies; I'd best be on my way, before this one grows even more restless.

( ooc: if anyone wants to action it up with him in the woods, please feel free! )

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[Now that he's getting the hang of his locket, he's looking through some of the posts other people have made when he spots the man... and his bird.

That is one strange bird. He can't help but stop and stare at it.]

...what kind of bird is that?

[ Fortunately for Bucky, the response catches Gabranth's attention before he mounts up again. Also fortunate is the fact that he's long anticipated this sort of question since he first received this boon. ]

A chocobo. Foreign to this land, but a far more reliable steed than any other I've encountered...

[ The bird in question, as though sensing the topic of discussion, butts into view with a chirping whistle. It's only with an exasperated noise and shift in position that Gabranth continues: ]

Although this one is of a much...livelier temperament than I might have expected.

[He blinks.]

You ride it?

[ On one hand, he recognizes that his own familiarity with chocobos is something easily taken for granted. On the other, though... ]

What else would one do with a tame creature of this size? [ For varying definitions of the word tame, anyway. ]

[...okay well that makes a certain amount of sense.]

Oh.

[ Of course it does. Chocobos make perfect sense. ]

Is there aught else you'd ask of me?

[He thinks about it.

No, that was about it.]

No.

[Yeah that's about it.

He ends the call. Abruptly, yeah, but. He was done.]

I guess all birds like shiny things.

[ She's clearly been traveling, is outside now -- Ariadne highly doubts that the White Hart is going to be found lurking outside Daonna, but at least she's making an attempt. ]

It's a chocobo, right? I know someone else here with a black one.

[ And Gabranth doesn't particularly expect to encounter the White Hart either, much less hunt it down. But the attempt is worthwhile, isn't it?

Anyway, Ariadne's response puts a slight furrow in his brow. ]

I was given to understand there were no chocobos native to this land.

[ It means a boon. Totally worthwhile. ]

There aren't, not as far as I know. He was a boon, I think.

As was mine.

[ Hmm. ]

Who is this person?

A girl named Lumina. Pink hair.

[ Hard to miss. ]

[ Hmmm. ]

Noted. [ Pink hair does seem like it'd be hard to miss. ] I've not yet seen or heard of any person by that name or description, but I'll be most certain to keep her in mind.

She's fairly young.

[ As an addition to the description and a bit of a warning, as Lumina can be-

Well.

Lumina. ]

[ At that, he frowns. ]

And a shardbearer, aye? [ He can only assume as much, if she was granted a boon. ] That the forces of this world should recruit even children to fight in its war...

Yeah. [ And, well. Yeah. She sighs. ]

Plenty of people have been brought here who aren't fighters.

[For a second, Lumina thinks the guy has somehow gotten her chocobo, but a closer inspection reveals it's a different, though clearly similar, bird.]

[Which opens up a whole different set of questions! She's not quite accusatory when she appears on the locket, but it's close.]

Where did you get a chocobo?!

[She had the only chocobos, they were special! Thinks the twelve year old....]

Edited (typo typo typo) 2014-12-06 03:46 (UTC)

[ ... Ah. And now his previous conversation makes a little more sense. ]

By virtue of my service to the Seelie court.

[ In fewer words: a boon. ]

You hail from Ivalice, I presume?

Ugh. [Of course he's seelie. Wait, what.]

No, I'm from Gran Pulse. I've never even heard of Ivalice.

[Normally she'd be a lot more round-about, but at the moment she can't lie so...]

[ A girl who recognizes chocobos, but knows nothing of Ivalice... It doesn't strike him as particularly unusual that chocobos should exist beyond his own world, but it's still something for him to consider. ]

If what I've been told is correct, you've a chocobo of your own, aye?

I've got three.

[The screen is suddenly covered in swirling black and white energy, and when it fades, Lumina is standing in the unseelie stables. Her black chocobo is standing in one of the stalls, and he warks happily when he spots her. There are two smaller, yellow birds, far smaller and younger, running loose around the building too.]

This is Chaos!

[ Chaos, indeed. The sight is enough to make Gabranth's brows lift. ]

In Ivalice, black chocobos are considered a feral sort. [ Which might explain a thing or two about his own, now that he thinks about it... But, anyway: ] Does the same hold true, I wonder, in your Gran Pulse?

Nope! [Lumina answers immediately, then pauses.] Actually, I have no idea. All but the yellow ones were extinct when I came from. But there used to be black ones, forever ago.

I think they were pretty much all feral, unless you tamed them. I mean, as feral as big friendly birds ever get.

[Chaos stomps over to peer over Lumina's shoulder at the locket. He's always so nosy.]

[ wait wait wait hold on ]

Gabranth?

[ He remembers you! Not that you were here for very long last time, but when you have a super everything, it's hard to forget things.

Also, don't mind the very large cat-like creature trying to peer in the locket every time the chocobo makes noise. ]

[ Unfortunately, Gabranth remembers nothing from his previous time here. ~~Being dragged in from an earlier canon point will do that to a person...~~

At any rate, he narrows his eyes. ]

Where have you heard my name? [ He's been doing some traveling in this world, sure, but he isn't that recognizable, is he?

(The full effect of his steely tone is perhaps somewhat lessened by the chocobo's suspicious eyeing of his locket, with a hiss every time the cat-like creature comes remotely into view.) ]

Here. You were- here. Briefly.

[ It's not the first time people have come and gone and not remembered. It is the first time John himself is really having to deal with it. ]

We examined the guard posts on the walls of Caer Glaem.

[ The saber-fanged cave lion just yawns. Check out those chompers. ]

I recall no such thing—

[ Before he really has the time to process it, though, the chocobo intervenes on his behalf with a loud, agitated wark. ]

Nila, enough. [ Once again, he pushes the chocobo's head away. ] As I was saying... I've no memory of this.

Yeah, that's not unheard of.

[ John helpfully motions for the cave lion to back off. She does, but not without making an irritated sort of noise. ]

No one's really sure why, as far as I know, other than 'magic'.

[ Magic. The scowl that crosses Gabranth's face is likely a plain indicator of just how poorly he thinks of that answer. ]

This world works strange and powerful magicks over us all... Gods willing, perhaps one of us will someday find an escape from its binds.

I think that might depend on what you've got going on back home, really. But- yeah. Magic.

[ He makes a face of his own. ]

It's- well. We don't have it back home.

[...he's not sure if a giant bird is better or worse than some of the things he's seen here, but you know what he'll just roll with it.]

Really, I'd think "exceptionally unusual" would be in the eye of the beholder, myself, given that your bird would likely be considered rather unusual in my world's present day and age.

...perhaps not in the past, but things were always much more exciting in the past.

'Tis a matter of course. Any Ivalician such as myself would find it exceedingly odd that this world or any other bears no knowledge of chocobos.

[ The chocobo itself contributes to the conversation with another wark in the background. This bird knows when it's being talked about. ]

Yet it seems to me that many other shardbearers find many more aspects of this land exceptionally unusual, and far more vexing than its simple lack of proper steeds.

Are they less... temperamental than horses, then? I suppose they look a bit more amicable, but most large, flightless birds from back home look positively ridiculous yet are enough that I don't think anyone considered them as steeds.

...really, though, at this point I'd settle for something that I'm entirely convinced isn't completely mad. From what I've heard, all the magical alternatives to horses sound even worse...

[ The thundering of hooves stops abruptly when the pitch black courser rears back in surprise, almost having ran into another rider on a mount entirely strange. The horse cries, the rider holds on easy in the saddle, until it calms and stands proper, throwing back its head, neighing. Legolas murmurs soothing, foreign words to it, hand stroking down the powerful neck, but his gaze is fixed on the stranger they ran into during their hunt.

He doesn't even have to look to know the more fervent members of his company already have the man at an arrow tip, bows and arrows immediately drawn before their horses even came to a stop. In spite of it, he offers a smile, easy and genuine. His own armour has lost its shine over the weeks spent travelling, and he had not bothered stepping into Caer Glaem upon his return from the south-western Greenwood. Yet even in a filthy armour, an elf remains radiant. ]

Greetings, stranger.

[ Then, over a shoulder, he throws an order to the elves to lower their weapons. They follow, though remain wary, too many threats have been scattered all along the Drabwurld these weeks for any to trust easy. ]

Do you too hunt for the White Hart?

[ Gabranth's own mount reacts in alarm at the sudden encounter, warking and hissing and ruffling its feathers at the company of riders. But his chocobo is well-trained, and holds position when he commands it; even so, the bird doesn't stop hissing — and neither does Gabranth relax his guard — until the elves have lowered their weapons. ]

I do.

[ No elves exist in Ivalice, but even if Gabranth hadn't gained any knowledge of their kind by virtue of his time in this world so far, it would have been clear to him that these are no mere humes. Gabranth doubts that this man, whoever he is, intends to mean him any harm, but he remains wary nevertheless. ]

Though it seems now a futile endeavor, without the aid of a retinue so splendid as yours.

[ Some whisper with pride, some others arch eyebrows at the words. Legolas, for his part, smiles and there's a pleasant lilt to his voice when he speaks, ever the amused one, ever the cheerful prince. ]

You and us, then, we are engaged similarly, then. We have had little luck, though the tracks we find, but the quarry seems impossibly swift.

[ For once though, his manners are not pushed off to the wayside. And Legolas gives a small bow of his head, as regal as he ever cares to be. Which is not very much at all, but still polite, with mirth twinkling in the eye, but he too remains watchful if ever so discreetly. ]

For your praise, you deserve a thanks. And to know who it is you pleased so: I am Legolas, son of Thranduil the Elvenking.

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