"I swear by every Vidraal, the Sergeant Major has demon blood in her somewhere..." Xochitl groaned, rubbing at yet another aching set of muscles from her daily workouts with the weaponsmaster. Under the pristine white and black-striped fur were any number of bruises from where Pāinalli had scored on her numerous times in the course of their training sessions. Some were old and fading, others were freshly made just this afternoon. Her sister would have had an apoplexy if she were here.
Sitting nearby on his own bunk, Izco tuned a guitar, his fingers moving over each fret along the fretboard as he brought the instrument in tune. It had come as a surprise, this unknown skill of his, nobody had even realized he knew how to play an instrument. Then again, most of them knew little to nothing about the wiry little hhetsarro's background. Still, there was some skill to his playing, even in the simple task of tuning the instrument. It was easy to tell that he had a good ear.
Xochitl flopped back onto her own bunk with another quiet grumble for her pains. "So, do you compose music or just play it?" She asked as she stared at the rack above hers. "How'd you come to learn to play, anyway?" For a moment, the hhetsarro's playing came to a halt. It made her lift her head from her mattress to peer his way. "Iczo?"
The dark-haired young man stared her way in quietude with those unfathomable teal eyes of his. It was almost as if he were trying to take her measure, trying to gauge whether or not he could trust her or not. But Xochitl had gotten them this far, hadn't she? Throughout their entire ordeal with the Baron, she never let any of them lose faith or lose focus, always keeping them moving toward their goal. She'd even inspired Alvaro to turn on the Baron, to help free not only himself but all the other children who had been captives in that compound. If Iczo could be said to trust anyone, would it not be Xochitl?
He let out a quiet sigh. "I... compose. A little." He said hesitantly, his ears shifting back slightly in embarrassment. "My mother used to be a Bard and she taught me. I remember so many nights, sitting on one of the high terraces in Tuliyollal, overlooking the city and the sea beyond. She'd sing me songs of far of places; Eorzea, Doma, Thavnair and more. Places she claimed to have seen when she was younger, places she hoped I would someday get to see. She died when a river barge she was on overturned, sending everyone washing down the river, she tried to free the punitiy from its trappings, so it wouldn't be dragged down by the wagon, but she got caught in the bindings and..." The man gave a small shrug then; the conclusion was easy to come to.
Xochitl lifted herself up onto her elbows as she regarded the other cadet. "Iczo... I'm so sorry..." She murmured, her silver eyes regarding him with quiet empathy.
"After she was gone, I was left on my own. My father had long since gone to wherever dead-beat dads go." He shrugged in seeming indifference, but there was something in his tone that told Xochitl how much his father's abandonment had hurt him. "I ended up raised by the streets. I stole a lot. Ended up in gaol a lot. The whole reason I'm here is because Tenoch got tired of seeing my face behind bars. He said if I joined the Landsguard he could 'clean me up' and 'give me a better life'. I asked him why he cared. He said -- and I'll never forget this -- Mothers never want to watch their children grow up to be criminals." His ears flattened back against his sable hair.
Xochitl gave a wince at Tenoch's painful jab. It was clear Izco loved his mother dearly, so she could only imagine how much that struck a chord in him. "And now you're here."
"And now I'm here." He sighed, looking over at her. "Look, don't... don't tell anyone about any of this, all right? I don't want anyone looking at me weird because I'm an ex-criminal, you know? I don't want people clutching at their stuff because they think I might steal it."
Xochitl smiled. "Your secret is safe with me."
