shootyourshot | ➵ INBOX

[It's a warm July afternoon in the Emerald District Farmer's Market, and a gangly boy of about seven or eight has been staring at a basket of peaches near a family-owned fruit stall for a considerable length of time now.

He's dressed a little oddly for the Sumarlok aesthetic, to say nothing of the weather — he's got on a high-collared tunic with a wide belt cinching the middle, along with plain trousers and pirate-style boots with the tops folded over. The sleeves of the tunic are a touch too long, likely because whoever made it anticipated that boys of his age sprout up like weeds and had the foresight to leave a little extra to grow into. His hair, though kept trimmed, is about as unkempt as one might expect of a rambunctious lad, though he seems to be making a herculean effort to stay on his best behavior at the moment.

It's only natural that, after a while, his attentions would be noticed; it's a young woman and her elderly grandfather who are manning the stall, and the girl who eventually approaches him with a kindly look, making him gulp and draw his shoulders up into proper posture once he realizes he's been spotted.

A brief conversation ensues, the content of which is mostly lost amid the hustle and bustle of the market, but there are still hints and indications of what might be going on. The girl motions to the stall; the boy emphatically shakes his head. Something else is said; he pushes his hands deep into his pockets and glances away. A little more discussion is exchanged; finally, the girl points around to the back of the stall, saying something that seems to make the boy brighten. His spirits suddenly lifted, he darts around behind the shopfront; when he returns a minute later, he's struggling but succeeding at carrying a crate of produce around to the shopfront, where he quickly drops to his knees in front of a mostly-empty bushel basket of corn and starts unloading the box into it.

When his labor eventually completes, the nature of the little exchange becomes much more apparent: smiling, the girl offers him a pair of peaches, which he takes enthusiastically before waving and running off —

And, quite possibly, smacking facefirst into Ashe from not looking where he was going. Oops.]

W-whoa, hey!

[Truthfully, Ashe had been watching a bit from the exchange, mostly because it pangs a little close to home. But then, seeing a lot of people he'd known once now as a child makes him empathize very easily; he was once the lost child with nowhere to go. How could he not?

This boy doesn't immediately smack of someone he recognizes. Instead, it's just a rowdy boy who doesn't really look where he's going until it's too late, crashing into someone after his earnings.]

You all right?

Owww...

[He stumbles back a few steps, ricocheting off Ashe's greater mass like a ball off a wall for what may be the first and only time in his entire existence, and fumbles one of his hard-earned peaches, which thumps onto the ground and rolls until it's near Ashe's foot. Meanwhile, the boy finally looks up, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand.]

Sorry! I didn't see you.

[Something occurs to him suddenly, though, and he hurriedly turns his attention to the peach he's still holding, looking around urgently until he spots the other.]

Aw, I bet it got bruised...

Oh no, your peach...

[Ashe frowns and looks at the fallen fruit. True it's just an accident, but he hates that maybe he's ruined this poor boy's meal.]

Let me get you another one, okay? I know it was just an accident. No harm done.

[Bruised or not, it doesn't seem as though it's about to stop the boy, who's already moving to retrieve his fruit and inspect it for damage. It's pretty badly dented on one side, but the skin didn't break, and he turns it over and over in his hands before eventually letting out a sigh of conclusion that comes accompanied by a fall of his shoulders and a firm shake of his head.]

Nope! Can't let you do that, mister. There's nothing wrong with it, see? It's still good.

[There's...clearly a whole side caved in, but okay.]

Hey, aren't you gonna say sorry too? You bumped into me as much as I bumped into you!

Hm? Why not? You worked for that peach, right? Or... you know, I could get you something to go with it.

[Ashe arches a brow at the boy, then he smiles crookedly. Maybe once upon a time, he'd have apologized right away, but here--]

Actually, I was just standing there. But I am sorry about your peach. I've been in a similar spot as you.

Aw, these are fine. They're for later, anyway, so —

[But he stops then, like maybe he's just said something he shouldn't, and caught himself. He scuffs the toe of his boot on the ground, thinking, then glances up suspiciously when Ashe offers up his empathy.]

...Just what kind of spot do you think I'm in, huh?

Hm? Well, you're someone younger than me who's out on his own who couldn't afford food on his own.

Am I wrong about that?

Yeah! You're wrong about all of it. [...] Most of it!

[He puffs up a little, squaring his shoulders and thrusting his chest out.]

I just wanted to help that lady, is all. My dad's the Baron Albrecht, so that's what I'm supposed to do. Nobles like me are supposed to stick up for the little guy, and be generous and helpful. ...And stuff.

Baron Albrecht--

[Oh. OHHHH. Oh this is...!

Ashe has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from being too excited. This is Balthus as a boy!]

Well, if that's the case, I bet you're pretty strong, huh?

[He snorts audibly, as only a proud prepubescent youth can really do.]

Uh, yeah. Didn't you see me carrying that whole box?

That's true! And I bet that's only a fraction of your strength at show.

I'm all the way on the west side of Faerghus usually, so I haven't met your dad or anything like that. So I'm afraid I don't know your name.

You better believe it! I'm almost strong enough to beat my best bud Holst! He's gonna be the next Duke Goneril someday.

[gotta stan for his favorite person ever, obviously]

Are you a lord? You're not wearing a coat of arms or anything, so how'm I supposed to know what house you're from?

Your best friend, huh? What's he like?

[Oh. Ah. Ashe rubs the back of his neck.]

Oh, no no. I'm just a commoner. I live in Gaspard Village.

He's the best. He's super strong and noble and smart and he could fight twenty-five monsters with his bare hands!

[Verdict's still out on the "smart" but you know what, let Balthus have his skewed perspective. A little absently, he picks at his dented peach, running his thumb over the flattened part.]

He's probably around here somewhere. We're supposed to stay together when we go out but I don't know where he went.

[His shoulders droop a little, while his expression grows flat and resigned.]

Well, it'll be okay. I'm tough too. I don't know where Gaspard Village is, is that in the mountains?

Wow. Twenty-five monsters! He sounds really powerful. I'm sure he's okay on his own until you two reunite. I'd be happy to stick with you until then.

[He chuckles softly.]

No, it's by a river, right along the border of the Empire. It's pretty far away from Goneril territory. It's a small place, but the people are generally happy.

Oh. I don't know much about the Empire, either.

[Enjoy it while it lasts, kid, because someday you're going to know more than you ever wanted to about it.]

I hope he comes back soon. I'll get in trouble if I come back without Holst.

Don't worry about it. It's pretty far from here, though.

And hey, you'll meet back up with him soon. Holst is tough, right? He'll probably find you before you know it.

[Ashe offers his hand to Balthus.]

But it's really nice to meet you. Show me how strong your handshake is, huh?

➵ INBOX

July Event ★ did someone order a rambunctious youth

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject