FFXII
You know I only just remembered that Larsa's psuedonym is Lamont? And I find it absolutely hilarious. Because the only Lamont I have previously encountered is Lamont Chu, the confused young tennis player from Infinite Jest.
Anyway, have some character study.
Larsa is beginning to like this place very much, although he was wary of it at first. The very air of Bhujerba seemed strange to him. It moves in a different way; he supposes it must, being so much higher up than that of Archades. But the primary difference is in the people.
He notices this especially in the vendors and peddlers on the streets. There are also such folk in the lower districts of his city, but they are hurried and ambitious, rushing eagerly about in search of gold or chops. Those here seem content to sell their wares regardless of their ultimate social status.
While wandering the city in search of information, a young woman offered him a turnover from a pot of boiling oil. Being hungry, he gave her coin and took it gladly, but the bite he took made his eyes blur with water.
"Ah!" the woman exclaimed, "Faram bless," and she offered him a bowl of sour white custard that soothed the burning at the back of his throat. He tried to give her another coin for her trouble, but she merely shook her head and wished him a pleasant stay in Bhujerba.
It was such a small kindness, and yet it lightened his heart all the afternoon long.
But it is not always this simple. Often he finds himself wishing for a familiar presence at his right hand, for the clank of plate mail. These thoughts he attempts to dismiss. Harder tasks than this lie ahead of him, and if he cannot weather this absence now, surely he never shall.
Anyway, have some character study.
Larsa is beginning to like this place very much, although he was wary of it at first. The very air of Bhujerba seemed strange to him. It moves in a different way; he supposes it must, being so much higher up than that of Archades. But the primary difference is in the people.
He notices this especially in the vendors and peddlers on the streets. There are also such folk in the lower districts of his city, but they are hurried and ambitious, rushing eagerly about in search of gold or chops. Those here seem content to sell their wares regardless of their ultimate social status.
While wandering the city in search of information, a young woman offered him a turnover from a pot of boiling oil. Being hungry, he gave her coin and took it gladly, but the bite he took made his eyes blur with water.
"Ah!" the woman exclaimed, "Faram bless," and she offered him a bowl of sour white custard that soothed the burning at the back of his throat. He tried to give her another coin for her trouble, but she merely shook her head and wished him a pleasant stay in Bhujerba.
It was such a small kindness, and yet it lightened his heart all the afternoon long.
But it is not always this simple. Often he finds himself wishing for a familiar presence at his right hand, for the clank of plate mail. These thoughts he attempts to dismiss. Harder tasks than this lie ahead of him, and if he cannot weather this absence now, surely he never shall.