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Milli and the Press

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Feb 22nd, 2017
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  1. For the third time that hour, P’ytera Park scribbled out another note on her pad, crossing out the beginnings of a line with harsh, swift strokes. The ace reporter for the Ul’dah Inquirer had been hoping to find fresh material for her gossip column, but her diminutive subject refused to cause a scandal. As the second hour of her stakeout began, she peered down into the streets of the Goblet, keeping her binoculars trained on a bobbing purple pompadour. He had to slip up at some point, she thought—no one could have achieved the kind of fame Milli Yuns had reached without some serious vilekin in their closets. Even if other so-called “reputable” newspapers had nothing but praise for the primalslayer, she’d tease out any hint of a story she could find.
  2. Unfortunately for her deadline, the Popoto-sized Pugilist had enjoyed an annoyingly leisurely day. After taking his breakfast at the Quicksand and running odd jobs at the Pugilist’s guild, he had dropped off a large package with the mailmoogle, but everyone was busy sending things these days. It was hardly a character indictment that he used the postal service, and P’ytera had bigger fish to fry. These errands complete, Milli had left Ul’dah for the sunny shores at Costa del Sol. This, she hoped, would shed some light on his hidden character, yet he spent his time there not drinking, nor cavorting with the attractive consorts. Instead, he sat on a dock, relaxing and conversing with a fishing Roegadyn P’ytera had never heard of! The two were just shooting the breeze as the Roe pulled larger and larger catches, without even a hint of impropriety, scandal, or anything worthwhile to write about. She briefly considered some minor muckraking about the pair, then changed her mind on realizing the Roe was four times Milli’s height—and he had defeated Primals. A juicy story was not worth spending time in a hospital bed, no matter what her gossiphound’s instincts urged her toward.
  3. Even with this in mind, hiding behind the bar and spying was sorely taxing her patience. She was paid by the line, and yet her venture had scarcely provided her with a paragraph to put to pen. Besides all that, she shuddered to think of the headline “Ul’dah Hero has Boring Day”. When Milli finally got up to leave, she said a quick prayer to the twelve—maybe he’d finally do something! She threw down the gil to cover the extensive tab she’d racked up spying behind the bar, and left in hot pursuit of her lalafell meal ticket.
  4. Following the miniature monk had taken P’ytera to the Goblet, and she quickly took to the rooftops to follow him unseen. Though he didn’t cut an imposing figure, his distinctive hairdo made it easy to track him through the crowds, as he wandered through the busy streets. His destination was unclear: P’ytera knew for a fact that Milli had no residence here, instead spending his nights in various inns across Eorzea. Through her binoculars, she could see him consulting a scrap of paper every now and then, doubtless directions to some secret and salacious meeting. Her tail wagged to and fro; would this be the scoop she’d sought for so long? When he finally paused in front of a handsome apartment, her heart skipped a beat. She knew this place! This was the home of a recent arrival to the area, a mysterious individual many knew as the Magpie. She had breezed into Eorzean high society with a massive nest egg, and had even formed a bafflingly titled Free Company with her wealth. The known members often spoke at length about spicy foods and seemed to have an odd fascination with canines. (P’ytera guessed it was all code for some sort of secret society—they were next on her list for a lengthy article.) Could Milli be one of these secretive figures? Could he be indebted to a wealthy patron? Was the Magpie buying the time of Ul’dah’s most eligible (if not statuesque) bachelor? The possibilities unfolding in front of P’ytera danced in her imagination, and she had to get closer and find out just what he had come for.
  5. After she slid down a drainpipe, P’ytera swiftly sidled up to the wall of the Magpie’s home. From this vantage point she could listen in on her oblivious targets. She strained her pointed ears, catching the midpoint of the conversation just as Milli spoke again.
  6. “So like I was sayin’ thanks again for uh... taking care of the problem”
  7. “It’s really not an issue, Milli. I just couldn’t let that continue, it was breaking my heart.”
  8. P’ytera’s heart soared, and gil danced in her eyes. Even actual newspapers might pay for a story like this! Not wanting to miss any juicy details, she edged closer to the scandalous pair.
  9. “Well thanks anyway! I couldn’t stay in that subligar for one more second. And these kecks are so comfortable!”
  10. P’ytera’s eyes shot open. Pants? This whole rendezvous was about buying a twelvesforsaken pair of pants?! She felt her soul leaving her body, and her body leaving her career. If she dared to bring a story like this to her work, she’d be laughed out of the Inquirer for sure- not even Carbuncle News would have her after that. Throwing her notepad to the ground, she ran off into the desert, frustration bubbling over into a blind anger. “Twelve take that idiot lalafell!” She screamed into the night. “Twelve take his dumb hair, his dumb pants, and my dumb article with them!” To punctuate this statement, she hurled her pen as hard as she could manage. Instead of the satisfying clatter she expected, a dull thunk echoed out from the rocky landscape. As she traced the path it took, P’ytera realized she had thrown her pen point first into the soft forehead of a sabotender. Before she could react, it began advancing toward her with jittery movements, seeking comeuppance for the Miquo’te’s accidental attack. However, just as it was poised to strike, she heard a voice booming from behind her:
  11. “Stop the attack, cact! You gotta party with me tonight!”
  12. Though she groaned at the bad joke, for the first time that day P’ytera was glad to see Milli. He moved like greased lightning, arms and legs pumping in his (admittedly unfortunate) harness and subligar. He made quick work of the seedkin, and soon offered a hand to P’ytera. “Haven’t I seen you around before? You’re one of those reporters been after me since the primal stuff”
  13. She’d finally had enough. Before he could get out another word, P’ytera exploded at him. “Thanks and everything, but that’s what you call it!? ‘Primal Stuff’? No wonder I couldn’t get a scoop on you, you’re more down-to-earth than a twelvesdammed coblyn! I bet that dumb package was probably charity money for war orphans!”
  14. By the twelve, he had the nerve to look sheepish at her when she was finished. Panting a bit, she decided to go for the throat. “So I’m not leaving this spot until you spill! You’re one of the most famous people in Ul’dah now, but you run errands and waste time fishing. You’ve put your name in lights, but you’re not doing anything with that fame? Why do you push yourself if not for glory or gil?”
  15. At this he paused. “Well, it does come down to that package you talked about miss, though I’m not sure how ya know about it. Once a week, I send that out by mooglemail—it’s gil and food, potions and clothes. You know where that’s going to? Little Ala Migo. That’s where my mom, brothers, sisters, all are. We’re refugees, all.”
  16. P’ytera, the war orphan barb fresh in her mind, felt her stomach sink. She tried to pipe up, but Milli raised a hand. “Look, I know you didn’t mean anything personal by it, but that’s how it is! Never personal, we’re just desert rats runnin’ from a sinking airship. And well, there’s your answer. For all the kids like me out there, I gotta climb that podium, put my face on the top of the heap... If I can make it, so could anyone else out there!”
  17. Dear twelve, he was serious. P’ytera studied his face for any hint of irony, and only found earnestness shining back. It was hard to believe someone like Milli Yuns could exist, let alone become a hero of renown, but the truth stood right in front of her, subligar and all. There was no way she’d be able to write the scoop she’d set out to find. Sighing, she rummaged in her pockets and pulled out a small device. “I can’t really argue with that Milli, so I guess I’ll leave you be. Before we part ways though, could I at least get a picture with the Primalslayer?” She asked, as she held the photocell at arm’s length.
  18. “Sure you can! Just make sure all the hairdo gets in!”
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  21. The next day, Milli woke bright and early. As he hopped downstairs to the Quicksand for his morning coffee, he caught sight of Momodi doubled over in laughter. The second she saw him, she burst out in guffaws, calling him over in between laughing gasps. “Milli, Milli, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to see this!” Quick as a whip, she brandished a paper at him, and his eyes settled on the front-page picture: Himself, hair cropped out, focusing on his harness and subligar. The headline read “Primal Slayer, Tailor Failure – P’ytera Park”
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