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[Meya] Gone Fishin'

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it was quite the dilemma that Meya was currently facing. Repairing her adventuring gear and paying for a room at the Mizzenmast had drained all but few gil from her pockets. Yet, the Keeper of the Moon’s stomach rumbled in protest; the road had been long and she was hungry from the effort. With not enough money to pay for her own food she had to provide for herself.

With fishing rod and stool in hand she kept her eyes down as she made her way through the throngs of Limsa inhabitants The sun was merciless this time of day. The sky was clear of any clouds giving the heat of the day freedom to beat down own the port town below. Not even the Elezen and Roegadyn she walked behind provided shade for the five-foot-three miqo’te, as the sun sat at the highest peak in the sky.

Crossing the bridges and down the ramps she went until a teasing smell tickled her nose. With delighted sniffs she picked up the scents of freshly caught fish wafting up from the Fisherman’s Guild racks. Such an aroma made her stomach growl in protest and spurred her forward. Slipping gracefully between fishermen and adventurers alike she finally made her way out to the bridges extending over the water.

She was practically skipping at this point as she picked out a vacant spot suitably distant from others eager to hook their sea bound prizes. She set her stool down near the edge and sat herself down. She wiggled her rump on the slotted wood to make herself comfortable and set to baiting her rod. A few whispered comments from unsavoury men met her keen feline ears but payed it no mind. They’ll look and talk among themselves but will most often than not keep their hands to themselves. Lest they raise the ire of the Rogue’s Guild.

With the worm firmly secured to her fishing rods hook she gripped the handle and with a wide swing, cast her line out into the gently lapping waters. She watched through eyes narrowed by the garish sun, her golden gaze watching the bobber for any signs of biting. She sat like this for sometime before reeling in her empty hook and casting again to a different patch of water.

Meya wiped her brow with the back of her hand as beads for sweat rolled down her forehead. How long had she been sitting like this she wondered and turned her eyes skyward. The sun had definitely shifted position an hour, perhaps a little more. She turned her eyes to the small bag where she kept her bait. One lugworm remained from the half-dozen she had before. She plucked it from the pouch and fixed it to the hook. One last try for a meal and with a silent prayer to Lymlaen she cast her line out to blue below.

More time creeped by but her focus was unwavering. She had fought against beastmen, Gridanians and dragons, and she would not be bested by fish! She pressed her lips into a thin line as she watched with a hunter's gaze until, there! The bobber jumped! Meya all but jumped up from her stool in excitement as the fish took the bait and attempted to make a desperate watery dash for freedom. Meya began to reel in, fighting against the strength of this no doubt powerful fish. Thoughts began running through her mind in anticipation of her meal to come. Salmon in a lemon herb glaze, grilled bass steaming, whatever it was it would be a feast for her!

The rod bent, the fish strained, but she reeled it in ever closer until... success! She pulled the thrashing fish from the water with a splash. Water droplets glinted like stars in the air as she extended her hand to grab her catch and feast her eyes on her meal to be. She held the wiggling beasty up to her eyes and blinked. She did this several times as the realization of not just what kind of fish she caught, but just how...insignificant it was. Scarcely a few ilms long the tiny thing wiggled pitifully much to amusement of the fisherman who remained, their roaring laughter filling the afternoon air.

 

 


 

Meya sat under one of the Bismark umbrellas sandwich in hand. She bit into the fresh baked bread and the taste of cook cod tantalizing on her tongue. Gripping the glass next to her she washed down her food with cold, sweet tea. It turned out her embarrassing performance at the fisherman’s guild wasn't all in vain as one of the older men decided to give her meal voucher simply because of a laugh she gave him. One he had not felt since the Calamaty, he said.

 

So in the end she didn't feel so bad; her belly was full from delicious fish sandwich which was all she wanted from the day. She will, however, be avoiding the docks for sometime until her bruised pride healed from being slapped by a tiny fish.