revivalproject | Two Weird Planets

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Two Weird Planets

WHO: Dustin, Felwinter, Tony, the Palm Cottage crew, and OPEN
WHERE: The Charcoal Star Map Roof in Temba, crew quarters on the Palm Cottage, various crafting guilds, the Eorzean wilds, and the Gold Saucer
WHAT: Curiosities, Crabbiness, Collecting, Crafting, and Cards
WHEN: First prompt is backdated to an evening in early July; the rest take place throughout the Eorzea event, July 17th - August 10th.
WARNINGS: Dustin is mean and uses mean words. Also, there might be violence/injury if monsters (or guards??) get involved on some of these quests.
NOTES: An outfit for the event!

1. Northwestern Temba Rooftops [Closed to Felwinter]

It's been a week. And, just like they'd agreed, Dustin is here - specifically, on the roof he and Felwinter had previously met. The familiar campfire has been lit to signal his presence, though its base is a lot neater than it has been; it rained yesterday, ruining the residual charcoal pile and washing away nearly two weeks of star map work in the process.

The boy who'd spent so much time drawing these maps is, perhaps, understandably perturbed - but not actually for that reason. Rather, as he paces agitatedly around the perimeter of the roof, the only thing going through his head is how he won't be able to keep up his end of the deal.

So fucking stupid. Dustin viciously kicks a piece of loose pavement in his path. Making promises I can't keep. Dumbass. I don't even know if he'll be pissed or not. I just wanna get this shit over with and go to sleep.

He pauses, casting a harried glance over the roof's edge.

Where the fuck is he?

2. Palm Cottage Crew Quarters [Closed to Palm Cottage Crew]

When the Palm Cottage and her crew slip into orbit around Eorzea and receive their directions for planet-side, Dustin does not leave the ship. Instead, he grabs the items the Agrii have left for him in his labeled chest, glances at the note with glassy eyes, stuffs it in his pocket and stomps his way back to crew quarters in silence.

In fact, Dustin's been pretty quiet the whole trip. Too busy sulking. His first time in space--fucking space--and he can't even enjoy it because the Agrii forced him here. They really do seem to have a knack for pissing in his cereal. So Dustin spends his time thinking about the best way to get back at them, and by the end of their journey he's settled on a protest of inaction. Any precious seconds he can spend not doing what the Agrii want him to do are victories, by Dustin's estimation. They can get some other sucker to go fuck around for their 'Seek Rats' or whatever. Not this guy.

He wastes the whole first day like this. A lot of it is spent just laying on the top bunk he's claimed, long since devoid of sheets that he stole on day one, tossing the bundled shawl of the outfit the Agrii provided him at the ceiling.

Thump. Thump.

That's definitely not going to get annoying.

3. Gridania Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Thankfully, Dustin's fit of petulance doesn't last long. By the second day he's on the ground like most everyone else.

He's surprised at how quickly he's able to find a place here. The concept of having to massage a population of strangers into giving him intel is daunting, to say the least, which is why Dustin immediately notices how ready the locals are to give him work. They peddle quests like merchants, flagging down passerby, talking loudly about their misgivings, never seeming to care about supply of potential applicants. They even have honest-to-god quest markers. To call the experience 'surreal' would be an understatement.

Dustin ends up having to turn down the first few requests, realizing quickly that he's not equipped to handle the monster-slaying or rumor-mongering needs of these people, but it doesn't take him too long to find something much more achievable: Apprentice woodworking. And from there, the whole world opens up to him.

The biggest hurdle is the tools. The Eorzeans don't use the same sorts of equipment that Dustin is used to for probably obvious reasons, though that equipment also appears to operate with different laws of physics, too. 'Magic,' apparently. All he knows is that this saw he's been given is too light and big to handle the whittling work he's able to squeeze out of it, yet here he is, gently shaping the curved end of a longbow with it like he's handling a precision carving knife. This shit just works and it's incredible.

Dustin does most of his carpentry (and eventually leatherworking) outside, on the small terraces facing the large, dark forest that surrounds Gridania. People wander past, but they don't bother him. The locals go about their business with a silent dignity that Dustin appreciates; perhaps they, too, just want to be in their own head, appreciating the simple beauty of this untouched wilderness.

His fellow spies from Agra-10, on the other hand, are probably not so quiet.

4. Ul'dah Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Dustin does not find Ul'dah nearly so pleasant.

Yes, it has more crafting professions for him to volunteer at. Yes, one of those is motherfucking alchemy. But also it's loud, full of little greasy merchants, and his customers keep riding his ass about meeting deadlines and cutting material costs and other stupid shit that Dustin does not have the patience for. However, for everything that Ul'dah lacks in decorum, it makes up for in quality of information. Dustin cannot fault the locals for their respect in coin and their diligence to follow up on debts paid. His crafting quests here have paid out twice as well as the ones in Gridania.

That being said, he doesn't want to spend any more time around them than he absolutely has to, so most of his days in Ul'dah are spent in the guilds proper. He finds that the Alchemists' Guild calls to him moreso than the others. The underpinnings of basic chemistry spun with something else is absolutely mesmerizing, enough that it helps to block out all the noise of the bustling stalls outside. Or the fact that he's in the company of someone else from Agra-10. Face down over a mortar and pestle, partially-made health potion bubbling over a flame nearby, Dustin reaches out a free hand to where he knows he set aside that water shard. It's missing now. He frowns at the table and, not looking up, snaps his fingers in the direction of the missing ingredient.

"Hey. I need that. Give it back."

5. Limsa Lominsa Crafting Guilds/Markets [OTA]

Limsa Lominsa is a unique blend of exciting jobs and absolute chaos. Dustin settles into being both an armorer and a blacksmith very well - especially so with blacksmithing, a job that he doubts he would ever have the constitution to perform without the assistance of magical tools - however the company that he finds himself in when he tries to sell to the market, or find an isolated place to work by the docks, is...questionable. Something about being surrounded by pirates makes him feel nervous. Sure, they're all very friendly and helpful pirates that he knows are being strong-armed by the local government into cooperating, but they wouldn't stick with the name if they didn't at least partially adhere to the definition, right?

In any case, Dustin is very paranoid at all times here and he constantly feels like he's being tailed. Maybe he is? He hasn't been yet, but today could be the day. It's the primary thought running through his head as he deals with the vendor currently trying to haggle a price for the set of simple leather armor he's trying to sell them. Dustin knows he's being scalped at the current offer and he couldn't care less. He feels so many eyes on the back of his neck right now.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dustin hisses at the hapless merchant, shoulders hunched as he quickly pushes the roughly-bundled armor over the booth's counter. "Just take it, would you? I'm--I'm in a hurry."

6. Eorzean Wilds [OTA]

Alongside crafting stuff comes gathering stuff, and Eorzea provides on this front, too. There are plenty of people Dustin finds that have quests related to finding unique items out in the wilderness, with just as many willing to let him keep any extra materials he comes across along the way. The related guilds even loan him specialized tools for the job. He supposes he should be thankful for all of this generosity.

But there's a catch.

All of the best gathering spots seem to be inevitably patrolled by monsters. It makes a kind of sense, Dustin has to admit - these materials wouldn't be so sought-after if there wasn't a risk involved in procuring them, else everyone and their mother with a basic pickaxe would go out and dig the mountains dry. Problem is, Dustin is one of those people; he has made plenty of weapons and armor, and is even wearing some of it right now, yet he has no confidence in his ability to protect himself if he's attacked. A couple of daggers and a studded leather jacket will only get him so far without any kind of combat experience.

The only real solution to this problem is to bring someone along that can fight. Regrettably. So here he is, at the edge of town, shuffling his feet and anxiously looking around for faces he recognizes that might be headed in the same direction. Finding one, Dustin meets their eyes and tries to wave them over as subtly as possible.

"Hey! You. Where are you headed?"

Other times - well, most times really - Dustin lacks the patience to wait and tries his luck on his own. It works out well enough at first, as the simpler materials are not far off the main paths and the monsters he catches sight of are generally small and preoccupied with their own business. All he has to do is stay quiet and take his time so he doesn't draw any unwanted attention.

The first few solo ventures leave they boy emboldened. So when he goes out just a little bit further from the trail to park at an isolated pond, rumored to have rare fish in it that some merchant or other wants to cook for his fiance, Dustin is maybe a touch too confident that the local wildlife will leave him alone.

He is mistaken.

Diving out of the way from a swiped tail, Dustin abandons his fishing pole and scrambles for the rocks bordering the water. He's being menaced by some kind of giant, very angry salamander, either territorial or hungry or both. Honestly Dustin can't be bothered for those sorts of details right now.

Shit shit shit! He skids to a stop and presses his back to the cool stone, desperately trying to control his panicked breathing. Way too close. Fuck! How am I supposed to shake this thing?!

On the other side, Dustin hears the heavy footfalls of the salamander following his path up the slope.

Fuck!!

7. Gold Saucer [One thread for Tony, all others OTA]

For Tony

A casino is the last place Dustin expected to find himself. He'd never be caught dead gambling - it's a statistically ruinous waste of money, and the games that can be exploited are often a ruinous waste of time, besides. There are more useful ways for him to make money.

It's not until he gets some intel that the Gold Saucer is selling a few strange, wooden boxes as grand prizes that he starts to reconsider. Now this is something Dustin can justify sinking a bit of time into.

The unpleasantly loud and busy atmosphere is oppressive, enough to drive Dustin to look for the familiar. Scratch cards, racing, costume contests...nothing piques his interest at first. But then he stumbles on a small table in a corner, one of several like it, green-felted with a semi-circle of chairs and a dealer. Dustin slips into the crowd to observe a few hands and finds that whatever game they're playing works remarkably like blackjack. It only takes a round or so for him to memorize this foreign game's rules and card composition, which is enough for him to recognize that he could easily cheat.

Worth a try. Drawing his shawl further over his face in case this massively backfires, Dustin shuffles out of the crowd and takes a seat at the table, signaling for a hand by tapping two fingers to the velvet. As he unconsciously glances around at the rest of the contestants, one of them sees the writing on the wall (and likely his coinpurse) and returns his cards, scuttling away to the bar as the House scoops up his coin. Another man takes his place - some flashy asshole in shades. Dustin narrows his eyes at him briefly before returning his attention to the cards.

Don't need to focus on anyone else, he chides himself. Just count the cards and you'll do fine.

OTA

Later, Dustin settles on playing a game that requires a bit more hard strategy - without needing to cheat at it, anyway.

He's learned the rules of Triple Triad from various inhabitants of the three cities and, inevitably, won their cards off of all of them, so it's a pleasant surprise when he finds this deceptively simple card game being played in a tournament structure at the Gold Saucer. Easy money. It helps that the local custom is to give away one of your best cards if you lose a match, so each win Dustin accumulates makes the next one even easier.

It's starting to get a little boring, actually. Slumped back in his chair, Dustin waits for his next opponent at the gaming table, languidly scratching his head through his hair until he suddenly realizes--

--This is someone else from Agra-10. Dustin's expression shifts rapidly from boredom to surprise to blanket irritation. Looks like the fun's over.

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There were always things to be done outside of Gridania, and while Tommy wanted to be spending more time there and in Limsa Lominsa learning more, at the end of the day, you needed money to get supplies. And supplies to take back to the ship were something Tommy cared about. So, in the end, all he could do was head out for the quests. Which was sorta like being a super hero, except you got paid for it, and you were helping people in the smaller moments of his life.

Which, Tommy supposed, he was okay with doing. He was going out into the world to help other people, and with it he had a ton of sass, a lot of experience in fights that probably wouldn't apply, and a pair of daggers at his sides.

And it's in that state that he hears a voice calling out to him. Tommy sighs nad moves toward the voice. Maybe it's another quest. Except no glowing marker. Huh. What's up then?

He moves for the other and, huh. That kid. One of the new kids.

"Yo. You going out into the wilds?"

It's fortunate that Felwinter had come during the day some time before to properly document Dustin's work. He'd found it fascinating, like a piece of art that could only properly be appreciated at a height that not many here could attain, and even he could only do so briefly.

No specific time had been given, so the warlord does not think himself late nor early. He does not appear at the roof's edge this time, but rather takes the stairs up, although he has a feeling that no matter what method of arrival is taken, Dustin will still be on pins and needles. That can't be helped, but one can't say Felwinter doesn't try. He lets his steps fall heavily up the last few that take him out of the stairwell and finally onto the rooftop proper.

Some of the tension drains out of Dustin's posture as he confirms Tommy's identity from the sound of his voice. Thank fuck he's flagged down someone he knows could be useful. They may not have talked much, but the fact that Dustin's been able to come back to the diner day after day and find it reliably restocked with cooked food and supplies says plenty about this guy's work ethic. He can only hope that the meager offerings of picked foodstuffs from the greenhouse and washed dishes go at least part of the way to repaying the favor.

"Yeah," Dustin nods briskly. He gives a quick jerk of his head, a gesture for Tommy to follow him along the path into the thick forest. "Central Shroud, down this road and further south. On the lookout for some weird trees. You game?"

Dustin's head swivels around to the stairwell at the sound of loud footsteps. At first he's expecting a different visitor, having anticipated that Felwinter would just appear on the edge of the rooftop like he had previously, but he's surprised to find the man himself step through the doorway instead.

"Finally." Not that there was a set time that Felwinter could have been late for; Dustin's just been here for a lot longer than he needed to be out of sheer anxiety and nerves. He walks briskly towards the warlord, as fast as his short legs will take him, yet his head hangs. Not even a cursory attempt is made to try and look at the spot on Felwinter's helmet where his eyes should be. "You have the maps?"

Not much of a greeting, but Felwinter isn't much for them either. He watches Dustin cross the rooftop towards him, head tilting just a touch. It's not quite the look of a teenager eager for an exchange.

Rather than say anything, he reaches into a pocket of his greatcoat, removing a small roll of several pages. He's never transcribed things before, but with Felspring's helpful data, it had not been difficult, and Felwinter had managed with a careful hand. He'd been pretty proud of the results.

"I have marked where they should be adjoined. I did not have a sheet long enough to compile as one."

People were generous in casinos. With tips, sure, and drinks that Tony had to stealthily abandon, but more than that. They were eagerly open with their intent, to prove that they had some inside knowledge worth putting money on, or already at a precipice after a few too many bad bets and easy to nudge. What defences they had up were against the casino itself, and the casino responded by plying them with enough drinks to leave them shaky. If there were secrets to find, there would be a trail here.

Tony didn't look like he was probing for secrets. What he looked like was someone who was less into the game than he was impressing the two women who had floated over after him, who were more than ready to hold the stack of coins that he passed them to 'hang onto, for luck'. It didn't really appear to work, because for a few hands, he kept having to gesture for one of them to place a new bet down as the dealer collected the last. Meanwhile, Tony watched the table carefully though his glasses, tension sharp in his jaw despite the lazy way his hands seemed to move, his gaze lingering on the player across the table who looked far too young to be risking his allowance on a card game.

"Drinks," Tony suddenly offered, despite his mounting losses, glancing around the table before his disarming smile caught up and he continued, "On me. Can we do that? Can we get a round? This is supposed to be a party, isn't it?"

"I haven't learned the names of places, so if you say it's that, it's that," Tommy says, rolling his shoulders in a sort of carefree way. "But if you're heading there, I guess I should watch your back. You bother to wash your dishes."

Which wasn't to say that not everyone did. Just that he appreciated it.

Dustin stares at the bundle of paper with a heavy, conflicted frown. He wants them. He wants them so bad. Felwinter didn't even ask for anything in return when he'd offered them - maybe he still doesn't? Maybe he's forgotten?

...No, not doing that. "I can't accept these," Dustin mumbles with a resigned sigh.

Even with the shawl hiding most of his face, Dustin is not difficult to read. The kid's been playing very cautiously these last few rounds, placing small, conservative bets directly from the satchel around his waist, and returning any winnings directly back to it as soon as they cross the table. He doesn't want to draw attention to how his pile is slowly starting to grow - or give away how he's starting to make more confident gambles now that the dealer's deck is whittling down. Aside from cursory glances at other cards being dealt, the game Dustin is playing might as well not have any other players in it.

That is, until one of them addresses the table directly. He glances up sharply and raises an incredulous eyebrow at Tony. Trying to burn out faster I guess, Dustin figures. Not my problem.

"You can have mine," he answers, even as the rest of the table rumbles with appreciation and the dealer gestures at the bar to fulfill Tony's request. Dustin jerks his head at the dwindling handfuls of coin held by the man's hovering admirers. "You probably need it more than I do."

Dustin huffs a small laugh. "I wash the dishes, you fight off alien monsters? Sounds like a fair trade."

He jokes, but the gesture is noted and catalogued. I need to pay him back appropriately.

Dustin waves Tommy onward down the path, shrugging his gathering satchel more comfortably across his chest. "What're you after?" he asks over his shoulder. "Or just work in general?"

Felwinter waits. He's good about waiting. It's interesting to see this side of the boy. He'd been so confident in their first conversation, cautious and knowing what he wanted and unafraid to speak his mind when he wanted to. This hesitation is a little different than the shades of what he's shown before.

And then he finally comes to a decision, a response. The warlord finds he is not surprised.

"Have the terms of our agreement changed?" he asks.

So the loot that dropped around here is a lot different from the stuff back home. All the same, the Hunter hordes it since you never know what'll come in handy. While he has no idea what to do with half of the seemingly random (and sometimes questionable) materials he finds, he has no doubt he'll find someone who does. And if he gets something more useful out of it then it's a bonus!

It's a little quieter out this way, at least by his Ghost's radar, but both of them know that can always change in an instant. The firearm he's procured is fancier than he cares for and longer than the hand cannon he favors- but he puts up with it so long as it can shoot straight, although still no comparison to his Ace of Spades.

Fancy seems to be a definite thing around here, and even though the edges of his current disguise are frayed and worn, there's elegance in the embroidered designs and the metal embellishments and buckles that make him feel like he'd be more fitting at a ball than out here going after critters. The helmet that came with it ensured his handsome metal face wouldn't be seen, although someone had thoughtfully cut out a notch for his horn to fit through, and at least it matched the helmet that it could pass for some customization.

Coming upon the pond, it isn't difficult to get a read on the situation. An abandoned fishing pole, an agitated amphibian- Cayde's pulled his gun from its holster- the barrel alone longer than his forearm. Still, he cocks it singlehandedly and opens fire at the lumpy creature.

"I think in this case, we're technically the aliens," Tommy points out as he keeps walking, expecting Dustin to follow. Helps that moments later Dustin is waving him on to do just that.

"Gathering stuff. While I'm out there I'm trying to figure out if there are any good plants I want to bring back. My duty on any planet is trying to diversify our diets so if something goes wrong, we have things to fall back on. Which means i need money, which means questing."

Dustin is quick respond with an emphatic shake of his head. "Not the terms," he says, flustered, tightly folding his arms. "The outcome. I was supposed to make you a navigational aid, and I couldn't. I can't accept your end of the deal until I fulfil mine."

There's a sound that Dustin isn't expecting from somewhere behind him by the lake - the sharp, multi-chambered click of a gun's safety being released. He has just enough time to wonder if he should be more afraid of this newcomer or the salamander before the first shot is fired.

The salamander, to its credit, reacts pretty quickly. Cayde's volley tags the creature in the meat of its back leg, but that doesn't seem to hinder it as it whirls around, letting out a guttural cry that shakes the fleshy lumps on its neck. Dirty water bubbles and froths in the back of its throat as its whole body braces.

This is around the time that Dustin's ears finally stop ringing enough to actually assess the new state of the fight. Pulling his checkered shawl over his head to press down his bushy hair, the teen peers carefully out from behind the pile of boulders where he's taken shelter, eyes wide and wild.

He could probably run now. A more reasonable person might. But Dustin can't - that fishing rod he dropped by the lake's edge is borrowed property from the Fishing Guild, he has to return it. No exceptions.

A second or so later, the salamander spews a jet of putrid water from its wide mouth at Cayde, spreading in a wide arc in front of it.

Alchemy. Actual science muddled with magic. It’s not entirely to Wilson’s taste, but it’s an excuse to meddle with some of this place’s natural resources. Needless to say, he doesn’t really follow any of the recipes or instructions he is given, but rather follows his own whims. And said whims have Wilson just about to drop a certain water shard into a beaker that is already half full with a green, softly bubbling substance. Does he react to the request for the shard? Not at all. But if anyone were to pay attention, they might notice the hint of a wide, expectant grin peeking out of the sides of the beaked mask the Agrii felt needed to hide his less human features.

The shard is drops in the mixture and half a moment later a blinding light fills the room, followed by thick, black smoke and suddenly the beaker erupts in rapidly expanding purple foam, sparking and bubbling in any imaginable and unimaginable color.

Maybe Dustin is lucky to catch the whisp of a shadow vanishing into thin air at the moment the smoke sets in, but needless to say, Wilson is gone before the foam fills the rooms of the guild. He appears in a nearby alley, eyes wide under the mask and posture innocent enough as he slowly approaches the Alchemist’s Guild just as it’s doors burst open to the first bunch of fleeing alchemists, which are closely followed by the quite literal second wave, carried outside by a still growing mass of purple foam.

Wilson takes in the sight, head tilted back slightly as he lets out a simple: “Hm.” That was quite fun…

Dustin opens his mouth, but closes it quickly before he starts talking about his theories regarding Hyur and human convergent evolution. Tommy will not be interested in this topic. Instead, he focuses on the job.

"Plenty of that to go around." He slows his pace, allowing Tommy to lead the way. The path ahead is not complicated enough for him to worry about either of them getting lost. Besides, Dustin's got the map in his head. They won't get lost. "Sounds like we're in a similar boat. The guy that contracted me says there's an old grove of trees that sprouts wind shards. Rumor says water shards pop up there, too, and those are good for healing. I've also seen people tapping the trees around here for sap." The teen shrugs. "Not exactly a dietary staple, but the locals seem to like it enough."

Dustin has the luxury of getting a warning, if only because he's not patient enough to wait for the presumed water shard thief to actually listen to his demands. He gives them just a couple of seconds before sharply turning his head, glowering. "You fucking deaf? I said--"

And then, abruptly, there's Chaos.

He's thinking about that strange, shadowy tendril disappearing into the smoke and foam as he's scampering out of the front door, shawl pressed tightly to his nose and mouth to prevent him from inhaling what must be toxic fumes. He doesn't linger on it for too long though. Shit! Dustin wheels around to get a headcount of the alchemists running past him. Still others left in there. Should I go back?

That question is answered seconds later as the majority of the missing guildmembers ride their way through the door and burst windows. Nearby, hovering merchants at their stalls let out cries of outrage; this is either not as uncommon an occurrence as it has any right to be, or the local shopkeepers have very strange priorities.

That's most of them. But not everyone. Have to go back. What the fuck am I doing? Goddamn fucking shit this is so stupid!

Stubbornly ignoring his own curses of protest, Dustin rushes for the alley that he knows leads to the back terrace, where he hopes the expanding mass of foam might be delayed by the guild's internal dividing walls. However, he finds his way blocked--

--by the man in the plague mask that was sitting next to him with his water shard. The disguise is good enough that Dustin doesn't recognize Wilson for who he really is, but he has plenty of other reasons to be mad about him being here anyway. His panicked dash turns into a furious stalk, shoulders set and face contorted in a snarl.

"--You!" The teen stomps up, currently too angry to be anxious about getting in Wilson's personal space. "Tell me what you mixed with that shard you rat-fucking sonofabitch!"

If the warlord himself is disappointed, he doesn't show it, and it would have been difficult to tell even without the helmet. Instead Felwinter hums thoughtfully, nodding. He simply adjusts the papers in his hand before returning them to where he had them first stowed.

The silence that settles then is perhaps a bit awkward. Felwinter turns his head towards the fire, watching the flames licking towards the night sky.

"Unexpected complications?" Materials don't seem to be too much of a problem, and Dustin seems clever enough to be able to figure out things he can use. This sort of admission can only mean that the problem is something more out of his control.

"Oh dang'it!"

The voice is a bit muffled from the helmet, but Dustin might be able to recognize it, if not immediately then perhaps after a few more words.

The face Cayde's making at his gun can't be seen but he is not at all impressed by the thing's performance so far. He jerks his head up at his Ghost's internal warning, just in time to see that jet of water fly. He throws himself to the side, rolling clear of its reach. "Ew, gross!" He sure doesn't want to get that on his fancy clothes!!

Even as he's getting up again he takes another shot at the salamander, aiming for its head. "The balance on this thing is crap!" he grumbles as he lurches into a dash, deciding he'd rather not stand around waiting to be a target. He's not too sure how fast it can move but it's reaction time had been surprising!

It's certainly for the better that Dustin can't see Wilson's shit-eating grin as he leans his head back just enough to not peck any eyes out. But the amusement is very clear in his voice. "Science, my friend. Just wonderful science."

His attention is drawn away from Dustin and to the end of the alley Dustin had come from where a few foam-covered alchemists are pointing their way, shouting something among the lines of 'There they are!' Wilson is quick to give Dustin a slight tap to the shoulder before turning around and quickly - yet still perfectly innocent - walk away, aiming to put some distance between himself and his crime.

Dustin allows the silence to hang. It's preferable to being berated for failure, or pressed to accept something he feels he doesn't deserve. Even Felwinter's lack of expression is a slight mercy; it gives Dustin the freedom to eventually glance up, where he doesn't find a look of judgement or pity. Just cold acceptance.

...Or maybe he's experiencing a bit of pareidolia. Whatever the case, Dustin's feeling less self-conscious when Felwinter follows up for details.

"Yes." He gives a single, firm nod, jaw set. "Made a compass. Doesn't work. It...might be easier to explain if I show you?"

Trial and error. Felwinter looks back at Dustin once the teenager speaks up again. He's accepted that things have not worked out as they had been expected, but this is the way of all plans. There's nothing to be gained by drawing anything out, and truthfully the warlord doesn't feel too strongly in any case. It's mostly because he's not quite sure what he should be feeling. There haven't been many instances where he has made such deals.

But Dustin's actually made something. His time wasn't wasted, not that Felwinter could see him as one for not making good use of time. He nods. "Show me, then."

Those few words are enough. A memory pops into Dustin's head - a recent network post, something to do with...a chicken?

Oh goddammit, it's Cayde. In spite of his immediate disappointment, Dustin does have to admit that the strange robot man is a lot more battle competent than he expected him to be. His next shot pegs the salamander directly in the center of its forehead in spite of the fact that both of them are already on the move.

Unfortunately for both Cayde and Dustin, Eorzean wildlife is apparently made of sturdier stuff than they're used to; the bullet wound to the face just makes the monster angrier. It flails its head and tail, whip-like, all twenty feet of it aimed in some way to try and trip the Hunter as he attempts to get some distance. Dustin recognizes this move - he's got the scuffs and bruises to prove it - so now he decides that he can make himself useful.

"Close in!" yells the boy from behind the rocks. "It's trying to force you back - don't let it!"

The voice confirms Sundance's earlier report that she'd clocked two presences around here. To his credit, Cayde doesn't turn towards the source of the shouting, focused on the salamander. He might be mildly impressed that the thing's still on its feet, but he might also just be blaming his weapon.

It seems he takes the kid's advice, moving in rather than outwards. He dashes forward towards the thing, keeping an eye out for the tail, making a leap over it during one of its passes. Again he fires, already considering alternatives. He may not have his Ace, but he can still tap into Solar...

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Two Weird Planets

Wilds

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7. Gold Saucer

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6 - I choose violence (clearly I don't bother you enough)

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yaaaaas help me finish my Aya collection

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gotta catch 'em all

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