They work so hard to find a calling,
they let time judge the worth of their labours,
but they come to find at the end of their time:
purpose is just a matter of perspective -
Your labours haven't even begun...
Sarot Ari MarkasMarkas rests back in a weathered booth seat, that wouldn't look too out of place in a 50's diner, with its blue leathery upholstery. The bag of dead Jackwings lies under a spotless white table, thankfully sealed shut to prevent any odours escaping. He watches the tourists and merchants boarding the ferry for its first run of the day - an elderly couple in walking gear, a young family, a female NORA soldier. He notices something strange about her, as though he had seen her somewhere before - a dream half forgotten... and only a fraction clear.
Rather quickly, he finds himself drifting back to days of old, trying to find anything in his memory to help him recall her - nothing... He shrugs it off as being a coincidence and looks past her towards the distant island of Odyssia; despite the mystery surrounding it, it afforded him shelter, and the promise of a decent pay for his services, and even a hearty meal to top it off, which would do him good. Life as a stalker by profession can be uncertain at best; failure to track your prey can lead to some very long nights in the cold, and from Markas' own experience, any night out in the wild could be your last.
The boat is almost full now, bustling with tourists and folks hoping to catch a few bargains. Every table is occupied, except his own: a man in a hood with a dubious looking bag apparently carried prejudice... A horn is sounded, as a warning that the boat is going to depart, then only a minute later, it pulls away from the docks. Markas closes his eyes, and drifts away into a light snooze, living in the past with shadows of friends.
Carrus Research Facility, Hope's ReachNumerous men in white protective suits enter the room, wheeling in cages each containing a wild animal - panthereons, gremlins, flans and more... Without uttering a word through their darkened visors, they push the twelve cages into the testing chamber for Maxwell's experimentation, before sealing the chamber and leaving the room.
An intern shudders and mutters to himself: "This is just, cruel..."
His friend nudges him: "Better here than in the hands of NORA... at least here they get fed, right?"
The first intern returns a blank look, and waits for Maxwell.
The Seiren Market, OdyssiaEona's shock comes from the sight of numerous stalls knocked over by what would appear to have been gale force winds... however, the fact that only a handful of nearly a hundred stalls in the market have been affected, would suggest some kind of supernatural force. She can't help but wonder whether a l'Cie is behind this. There are two PSICOM soldiers here, enquiring with the stall owners to find out what happened, though from this distance, it is hard to make out what is being said.
The market itself is a normally a very busy place in the mornings, a fine labyrinth of stalls, cannily trying to trap tourists in a web of cheap wares and attractive bargains, however, this incident has drawn a crowd around the area, so things seem slow in the rest of the market.
As the PSICOM soldiers leave the shopkeepers to mend their stalls, one can be heard saying to the other, "Do we need to report this? Can we be sure there's a l'Cie behind this?"
His partner doesn't even pause to look at him. "Yes. There's a l'Cie here. We need to request back up - if there's a l'Cie here, it can't mean anything good for us. The question is, what were they looking for here, and why?"
