[Fran 001]
Who: vieratably and YOU!
Where: Espoir
Status: Open!
Style: Either - will match to you.
The grass was familiar, spring underfoot and long in the full growth of summer. Fran had stooped to touch it, to pick at the earth: dark and loamy, little clay (at least at this depth). That much was familiar - but the smells, the taste of the air? As far as she could see, there were no familiar fiends here. Wherever here was.
She sifted the dirt between her fingers and straightened, dusting her hands off against her hip. Somehow she had been separated - where to, she didn't know, although she was certain this place was no Ivalice. There was an empty knot in the back of her mind, an itch that something was missing: where the myst should have been, perhaps. She felt very little of it here. Perhaps this was some fever dream and she lay on the battlefield or in the Strahl, half out of her wits. She doubted it, but there were things she didn't understand. this might very well be one of them.
Regardless, there was nothing to be done beyond the obvious: she would find out where she was and how she had come to be there, and she would make her way back. All else failing, that much was something she could set her sights on. Sidestepping a patch of yellow flowers growing thick in the field where she had arrived, Fran followed her nose toward the smell of the town - of people.
Where: Espoir
Status: Open!
Style: Either - will match to you.
The grass was familiar, spring underfoot and long in the full growth of summer. Fran had stooped to touch it, to pick at the earth: dark and loamy, little clay (at least at this depth). That much was familiar - but the smells, the taste of the air? As far as she could see, there were no familiar fiends here. Wherever here was.
She sifted the dirt between her fingers and straightened, dusting her hands off against her hip. Somehow she had been separated - where to, she didn't know, although she was certain this place was no Ivalice. There was an empty knot in the back of her mind, an itch that something was missing: where the myst should have been, perhaps. She felt very little of it here. Perhaps this was some fever dream and she lay on the battlefield or in the Strahl, half out of her wits. She doubted it, but there were things she didn't understand. this might very well be one of them.
Regardless, there was nothing to be done beyond the obvious: she would find out where she was and how she had come to be there, and she would make her way back. All else failing, that much was something she could set her sights on. Sidestepping a patch of yellow flowers growing thick in the field where she had arrived, Fran followed her nose toward the smell of the town - of people.