Chapter Text
Ul'dahn banquets were a staple of the city's finest in high society. Members of the Syndicate spared no expense to establish themselves as more influential or more trustworthy in the Sultanate's eyes. Such functions were scheduled regularly and were invite-only, depending on holiday or occasion, creating an environment for the upper class where one could network, build connections or curry favour with their fellows. Deals could be struck or lost depending on one's reception at such events, and it was important that top diplomats, politicians, guildsmen and merchants - anyone who was anyone - should show their face.
At this particular faire, held in supposed celebration of the young Sultana’s birthday, the small lalafellin child gnawing hungrily on a raptor shank looked out of place. She was small for her age, and despite obvious efforts on somebody's part to make her presentable, it was clear that she was unused to the extravagant finery of an Ul'dahn lady. Still, being a daughter of the famed diplomat and tradesman Gogomushi Babamushi, Lady Gogomi and her three younger sisters had been obliged to attend the event.
Her father had disappeared into the crowd, leaving the children in the care of a hyur handmaiden, whom she had managed to lose after wandering away to the buffet table. The food was plentiful and good, so she loaded up her plate enthusiastically with roasted nopales, mashed popotoes and raptor stew before realising that the rest of her party had disappeared.
Confused, she made her way to the corner of the banquet hall and settled herself down, solidly eating and avoiding eye contact with any of the other guests. As she shovelled the food into her mouth, the small pearled circlet that sat perched atop her dark hair dislodged itself precariously. She tilted her head to right it, while she rubbed her soiled mouth with a delicately embroidered sleeve.
Suddenly, another lalafellin boy of around the same age - or perhaps a little older - slid up next to her. She didn’t know who he was, but he was taller than average, and wearing the trademark robes of a thaumaturge. He was also carrying a plate, similarly loaded with the best of the food on offer.
She looked up at him curiously, unsure of whether to say hello or introduce herself, before he spoke.
"Have you tried the tuna miq’abobs?" he asked, "they're really good."
Gogomi shook her head.
"Here," he said, handing her a skewer, "the only good thing about parties like this is the food."
She took the skewer silently and shoved almost the whole thing into her mouth.
“Thay’re good, thank you” she agreed, smiling up at her companion with her cheeks bulging and mouth dripping in fishy sauce. She chewed and swallowed, “I like toona.”
“Me too,” the boy said, before chowing down just as enthusiastically. “I’m Roon, by the way.”
“I’m Gogomi.”
The two smiled at each other.
Gogomi was grateful for the company. While she couldn’t put a finger on it, something about Roon reminded her of herself – perhaps it was the fact that neither of them really cared about the politics of the banquet, where appearances were everything and everyone wanted to know who you were or who you knew; or perhaps, it was just their mutual enthusiasm for the food. As they swapped recommendations and went back and forth from their little corner to the buffet table for seconds and thirds, treating the banquet hall and its guests like a perilous dungeon full of enemies with the food as its loot, she found herself enjoying a stuffy banquet for the first time.
It was unfortunate, then, that it all had to end.
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“Lady Gogomi?” a deep voice called out, as someone strode over to her and her companion. They straightened up in surprise, “Is that you?”
She looked up and came face to face with an older lalafell she did not know. His face was hidden behind a mask, making her feel uneasy. She hastily slipped the bone she was chewing into the folds of her gown.
“I see you have met with good company,” the man said, looking her thaumaturge friend up and down.
Gogomi looked blankly at the man, unsure of what to say. Was there a hint of distaste in his voice?
“…Lord Lolorito,” Roon said, bowing in greeting. It was clear to Gogomi that he was disappointed, but at least he knew who he was talking to.
Gogomi curtseyed, wondering dimly at the back of her mind whether Lord Lolorito was a Very Important Man. It certainly seemed so.
“You will find your guild companions and siblings by the fountain,” Lolorito said curtly to the boy, “I think it would be best if you joined them immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Roon said, pulling a face behind the man’s back and giving Gogomi a sympathetic look as he departed. Gogomi waved goodbye to him discreetly, watching sadly as his black robe disappeared into the crowd.
“I had a word with your father, Gogomi,” Lolorito said, “I believe he has just accepted a post in Limsa Lominsa. It is a fine city, and I am sure you and your sisters will enjoy it there.”
Gogomi nodded. Her father had coached her to be polite to guests at banquets, and she had a number of stock answers at her disposal – “I am looking forward to aiding my father in representing our city in Limsa Lominsa,” she said slowly, careful not to trip over her words, “I hope that I will be able to make him and the Sultana proud.”
Lolorito smiled, sending a small shiver down the girl’s spine. “Now, your sisters must be missing you. If you would accompany me, I will take you to them. Your father will be grateful to have you back – and we will have more business to discuss.”
Gogomi curtseyed, leaving her plate where it was on the floor as she was led away from her little corner. For the rest of the night, she tried to keep an eye out for her thaumaturge friend, but all the black robes looked the same to her, and he was nowhere to be seen.
Until the next banquet, she thought to herself, maybe she’d be able to find Roon and go on adventures with him again.