Chapter Text
He first saw them in old Gridania - he'd been receiving another lecture from the vocate there, when they'd caught his eye. A short, slim miqo'te with ash gray hair and plain, dull clothes. Nothing particularly stand-outish about them, and yet... he'd never seen anyone look so at home and yet so foreign.
At the end of the day, they were just another stranger in this strange world, and it shouldn't have mattered.
But then he saw them again.
Speaking with the chocobokeep in Bentbranch.
Then rummaging around in some crates by Black Brush station all the way out in Thanalan.
And now he was in Middle La Noscea, and it was pouring, the skies themselves decrying his latest 'venture'. As if it were important enough to warrant it. He was just considering abandoning his search for the day, willing to take the loss and receive another 'talking to' if it meant getting out of this rain, when he spotted the flicker of campfire light beneath a bridge - and beside it, peeking around, a small figure obscured by the downpour, waving to him. Beckoning him over.
He was far too tired and far too wet to refuse.
They had just settled back down next to their little fire when he rounded the bridge, stepping under to join them.
"It's you-" his surprise not so unintentionally sounded like suspicion, "are you following me or something?"
Their answering glare didn't give much away, but he studied it all the same. This was the first time he'd seen their face up-close. Pale, small nose, big eyes - a feminine little pout. Male keeper tattoos. Huh.
"Why would I want to follow a retainer?"
"Really?" he leveled them with a mid tier 'are you dense?' as he sat down, "Retainers get jumped out on the road all the time. Searching for treasures and other ridiculous things at the behest of their 'masters'. It's highwayman 101."
They scoffed, eyes rolling with the sound.
"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't look too worried about that."
Ah. Hit the nail on the head there.
He looked them over again. They were visually as threatening as a marmot.
"Still," he sighed, pulling his map from his pack, "t'would be passing inconvenient."
They watched him a moment longer, before shrugging and grabbing a small pocket book, seemingly deciding it's pages are more worth their time.
So they both sat quietly by the fire for a time, as the rain hammered down beyond the bridge. They flipped through their book, and he scanned his map, and that was that.
Except the stranger kept looking at him. He could feel their gaze on him, hair raising slightly at the focus of it. While he was debating the pros and cons of just ignoring it and them for the rest of his stay sheltered here, they closed their book, setting it to one side.
"What are you looking for?" they asked simply.
"Really?" he deadpanned back, "Why would I tell a stranger who may or may not be following me that?"
They quirked an eyebrow.
"You're a retainer. You were hunting about in the rain for Gods only know how long. You've been staring at that map for half an hour. You're on a venture, probably running late."
Minasha was learning quickly that this wandering miqo'te could be as sharp as he was, each point accurate and succinct.
"And what? Are you offering to help or something?"
"Yes."
Oh.
Alright, then.
He huffed, folding, running a hand through his still-damp hair.
"It's a flower from around these parts. Only blooms around a full moon. Small. White petals. Used to make dye or something."
They nodded along attentively, scooching over to him and his map the moment he'd finished speaking. From somewhere they pulled a piece of chalk, leaning across his lap slightly to circle a point on the far left of it. He leaned back a little, eyebrows raised at their sudden lack of consideration for personal space.
When they pulled back and glanced his way, they seemed to notice this as well, eyes widening as they shuffled back towards their own side of the campfire.
What a weirdo.
"So... here?" he pointed to the crudely drawn circle. It was small - a precise location?
"Yes. Right there."
Their tone, while softer than before, didn't seem deceitful in any way, and it was more of a lead than his keeper had given him, so he supposed he'd be grateful.
"Alright. Thanks, I guess."
It didn't sound sincere, but they didn't seem to take offense, instead returning to their pocket book, with infinitely fewer sideways glances as the rain continued to fall.
┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈
The next day he found himself in Limsa Lominsa proper, sulking his way through Hawkers' Alley.
It had been pretty late by the time the rain eased up enough that the miqo'te saw fit to leave, and he did the same - made straight for the circled spot on the map, and sure enough, the shrub he was looking for was there. Just the one. The leaves and small buds fit the description perfectly. There was only one problem.
All the flowers were gone. Collected professionally, by the looks of the neatly trimmed stems.
And thus, he was loitering. Avoiding returning to yet another scathing review from the vocate, for yet another incomplete job.
He was contemplating a different career path for the 14th time in the last 3 days when he spotted the stranger again.
They were speaking with the dyemonger - orchestrating some kind of trade, by the looks of it. The Roegadyn woman pulled out a small glass vial of slightly cloudy clear liquid, and by all appearances the little miqo'te was very interested - quickly pulling out a small book, likely the same pocket book from the night before. They flipped through the pages delicately before settling on a spread that was decorated with small, gleaming white flowers--
Wait. Surely not...
He wove a little closer through the crowds, angling for a better look.
...That little sh--
The pages, it seemed, were not decorated at all, but were simply acting as storage, for none other than the pure white flowers he was sent to collect, firmly and safely pressed within the binding of their pocket book.
He watched as the dyemonger daintily swept the little flowers into a box of her own, before handing them the vial.
When they departed the stall and started making their way back to the Aetheryte Plaza, he couldn't help himself, sliding directly into their path, arms folded.
They paused, confused, before looking up at him. Recognition dawned.
"It's you again." they remarked simply, innocently.
Minasha resisted the urge to swear at them.
"Pretty flowers you had there. Didn't realize you knew about them from recent experience."
They squinted up at him for a moment before figuring it out.
"Oh. You were too late, then?"
Again, their tone was simple, unaffected. It made him want to pinch their stupid little round face til they cried.
"Too late-- you could have told me you'd already gone and collected the lot!"
They were starting to rile now, hackles raising.
"I left plenty uncut. It is the only reliable source of a coveted pigment - you took too long!"
They stared eachother down angrily, neither wanting to concede but not wanting to start a brawl in the middle of a busy market.
He was about to give, a scathing 'whatever' on the tip of his tongue, but they beat him to it.
"Fine-- you know what? Fine."
They pulled their pocket book back out, thumbing a little more clumsily through the pages this time.
"You want the flowers? Trade me for them." they held the book partially shut, thumb acting as a place-holder. He could barely see peaks of the pretty white flowers pressed between it's pages.
"Yeah?" he replied, irritation and adrenaline mixing like a powerful concoction, stepping forward into their personal space, "How about you give them to me, and I don't make you sorry for yesterday?"
"Make me--?" their voice pitched, indignant-
"Oi!"
Shit.
They'd caught the attention of the Maelstrom guard, hyuran man breaking through the small crowd of spectators he didn't realize had formed.
He expected the man's attention to bear down on him, but instead, he approached the miqo'te.
"Y'alright, 'sae? This man botherin' you?"
Seven Hells, of course the little brat was friendly with the guards.
They waved him off, cheeks stained a mild pink.
"I'm fine-- it's fine."
They took a heavy breath through their nose, willing themselves to calm, before focusing on Minasha once again.
"You want them so bad? Here," they tipped the book forward, hold loose enough that the lightweight blooms slid right off the page, barely giving him time to reach out and catch them.
As they landed in his open hands, 'sae' stepped forward, meeting him in his own space in a bold move.
It would've been more intimidating if they weren't craning their neck to look up at him, but-
"But you had better hope you never need my help again."
With that, they stormed off - brushing past him like he was never there.
He resisted the urge to crush the delicate petals weighing heavy against his palm.
Barely.