Made of Paint, Bringer of Pain
The Whappin Hammer rides again!!

The couple were taking their time wandering back down the La Thagran Eastroad, enjoying the warm night air and the slow twinkling of fireflies. It had been a long, grueling search, but between Howell’s intuition and Siân’s tenacity they’d finally managed to land the infamous Endoceras, and their Sharlayan client’s commission for the fish would have them fed for the forseeable future.

As they approached the bridge to Limsa Lominsa proper, they heard a commotion from just outside the gates; a circle of guardsmen huddled around something, chatting concernedly. Siân stepped closer, craning her neck to see what all the fuss was about.

In the center of the circle was a woven basket carrying a Miqo’te infant, fast asleep despite all the attention. A handful of fireflies perched around the basket’s rim, flickering like tiny stars.

One of the guards noted the couple’s curious stares and turned to them. “Goblin traders brought her by a bell ago. Said they found her washed ashore with the remains of a raft up near Iron Lake. No sign of her parents neither.” He glanced towards the gates into the city. “We’re just waitin’ for one o’ the Admiral’s folks to come by an’ pick her up – get her checked out and find her somewhere to go an' all. Poor thing’s had a rough few days, I wager.”

Siân looked down at the tiny figure, then across at her husband, who was already returning her gaze.

“You’ve got that look,” said Howell, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“She’s got spirit. I can tell. She deserves somewhere to thrive, not just to live. Besides,” Siân laughed, “I still want a daughter, and this way we don’t have to leave it to chance again.”

Howell returned her laugh, along with a couple of the guards. The one who’d spoken took a step towards them, worry written across his face. “Now, hold on, the sentiment’s all well and good, but are you sure this is… right for her? Bein’ as you’re not Miqo’te an’ all?”

“Must we be?” said Howell. “Is it not enough simply to love one’s children, whoever they are? Besides, it’s not as if we’ll be the only ones she can turn to.”

“Ah, let ‘em have her, Skoenruht,” said another guard. “The Feys are good folk, I’ll vouch for that.” She turned to the couple. “When the assessors come ‘round, we’ll tell ‘em there’s already interest.”

“Our thanks,” replied Howell. He regarded the child for a moment longer before looking back to his wife. “We’ll have to discuss this with the boys, of course. And the Endoceras money won’t stretch quite as far as we’d hoped…”

“Having doubts?” said Siân, already walking towards the city gates.

“No, dear, just making sure you know what we’re getting into,” said Howell, moving to follow her. “Any ideas for a name?”

“Hmm…” Siân stopped for a moment to consider. “How about Wynne?”