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"If she's anymore late, Tataru is going to chew us all out."
Alisae was right. Their small companion had worked hard to put together a large group dinner months after the Scions decided to go their temporary separate ways. Hard enough that she'd vaguely threatened them for being late. Well- the threat wasn't vague, the potential outcome however teased on the line of violence.
Thancred pushed himself to standing, groaning as he did.
"Allow me to be the one to ring her," he stated while plucking the linkshell from a pocket on his side, "less likely for her fathers to give me hells by disturbing their daughter."
"Has Master Verdom truly held each visitor at knife point?" Alphinaud asked. He found it difficult to hold back the amused little hum in nose while still feeling concerned.
The sudden withdrawal of G'raha's stature, from his tail curling around his side to the way his ears flattened, was noticed around the room. "Yes… Master Nabuhito found my exuberance to meet a man of his caliber quite… irritating."
"See?" Alisae lifted her hands into a shrug, laughing quite amused as well. "That's what you all get for ignoring her requests week one!!"
Her brother passed her a flat-faced look just before crossing his arms over his chest. "Says you, who kept ringing her linkshell…"
"Oh like you are special for-!!"
Thancred groaned loud enough to silence the bickering. " Enough. Last thing I want is to connect with screaming in the background."
Y'shtola hummed. Concern crossed over her face, and she rapped her knuckles on her cheek mindlessly. "Odd for it to take this long…"
"The lingering effects of our last adventure shouldst not be discounted," Urianger mentioned with a softer voice, allowing Thancred to focus on the ringing of his linkshell... "Alma barely did survive the final battles. We shouldst allow her the time and distance as she requested. Patience is the bareth minimum to provide."
Thancred had his own comment on the tip of his tongue, but was interrupted when the linkshell finally connected. "Ah! Alma. Hope I'm not bothering you."
"Thancred, hey. No you're not. I was just sketching."
The older man hummed in delight. "Covered in more soot? I've heard rumors that charcoal smears have become all the rage in Ul'dah as of late. Have you become a trendsetter, Alma?"
Alma giggled on the other end of the line. "If that's true, then the miners have been well ahead of their time!"
He chuckled in turn. The mood in the room brightened hearing the hum of their companion's voice on the other end of his linkshell.
"Just wanted to check in on you for today's dinner. I think if I inform Tataru that you were lost in your sketchbook, she will forgive you."
"Oh shit! That was today wasn't it!" She groaned loudly, the sound turning into a frustrated growl. "Was Estinien at least able to hit up Yedlihmad?"
"For what?"
"Oh. I asked him to pick up some amra lassi for dinner. Tataru didn't get to join us in Thavnair. Thought she'd like to try it."
Everything in Thancred's stomach twisted from the phantom pains of their first venture into the country. After swallowing the urge to clear his stomach, he turned his attention to Estinien. "Alma is asking if you picked up the amra lassi from Yedlihmad?"
Muted confusion flashed over the mostly neutral dragoon's face. He stared at Thancred as if bewildered by the statement. It lasted only a moment before he passed the other man a sturdy nod. "Aye." Without another word he turned on heel to make his way into one of the rooms of the Rising stones.
"Unsure if you heard that Alma. But he said he did."
A happy sigh echoed from the other end, as if a weight had come off of her shoulders. "Good! Thanks Thancred. I'll clean up once I get home and head on over, okay?"
"Will do."
With a click the call ended. Thancred slipped his linkshell back into the pocket at his side and looked at the rest of the group. "We can at least tell Tataru she's enroute."
The door to which Estinien had exited through opened again, followed by the sound of clinking plate from his greaves as he walked over the wooden floor. His fingers were still working the latches on his breastplate while he kept his gauntlets tucked under one arm. It was not the fact that he'd changed so quickly that caught the room off guard- a dragoon always a moment away from battle learned how to don the garb within seconds. They stared bewildered from him putting on his armor in the first place.
"Sir Estinien?" Alphinaud was as equally confused as the rest of the room, obvious by his furrowed brows. Still he crossed the space to help the man finish dressing. "May I inquire as to why you are preparing to leave so soon?"
"She is in danger." One final belt set the breastplate in its rightful place and he went straight for slipping on his gauntlets. "I assume bandits of some sort monitored the conversation."
Everyone in the room tightened in shock. If anyone else had said such things, they may have thought it a prank. Estinien, however, could barely crack a simple joke.
"H-how-?" G'raha stepped forward with eyes bulging, fists tucked against his chest. "How were you able to discern that Alma is in danger?"
Fully dressed for battle, Estinien continued his preparation march, grabbing his spear and mounting it to his back. "The last time I purchased amra lassi for her in Yedlihmad, she threatened my life with a kitchen knife."
"A kitchen-?" Y'shtola barely finished the phrase before being interrupted by Alisae.
"The Nymian Marine Knife? Oh you must have angered her if she brought that out against you."
He shrugged, uncaring about the significance of the weapon itself. "Regardless. A subtle call for help is still a call for help. I propose we move. And quickly."
Alphinaud had fetched his sage weapons during the short conversation. In seconds he was at the dragoon's side. "Agreed. Someone at the Ironworks may have some means of tracing the location of her linkshell. They were the ones that provided them to us."
Thancred pulled his jacket from the back of the chair and tugged it over his arms. "If we are lucky, Nero is not the one we need to ask. Otherwise we are in for an earful of useless information until her location is found."
With armor set and weapons either sheathed or mounted, the former Scions made their way out of the Rising Stones.