It's quiet. Compared to the nightmare that was the Bahamut's descent towards the city of Rabanastre, with Balthier working the repairs further within and her more towards the outside, it was just... quiet. And it had been so strange - she thought it was the Mist that had pulled at her, taking her apart piece by piece and putting her back together. The Viera recalls thinking it was just her imagination before she had passed out.

The smell of smoke and fire still clings to her dark skin and white hair as she picks herself up to look about. A quick check - no bow. No weapon, it seems. She's still in her armor and heels and that would have to do for now it would seem. Where... was she? Obviously not on the Bahamut, or the Strahl. This was no place she had ever seen.

Her red eyes close for a moment, attempting to sense... No, there was nothing. No Mist here either.

What she does see is a tall woman - Hume perhaps? - with bright hair like the Belias esper that had a... well it wasn't Mist, but Fran could sense a sort of purity from her. The innocence of the voice reminds the Viera of Penelo. And what work did she want done? She's distracted by a tiny Hume man coming up to give her a satchel.

Once the explanation is over, Fran secures the satchel somewhere on her person (where she stows it, she'll never tell) and heads away from the area with her heels clicking.

Spectres didn't bother Fran. There were numerous beings in Ivalice that could disguise themselves from others with magic or other manners. Lady Ashe had seen illusions as well of her deceased husband, though the Viera was certain that didn't count as that was the Occuria's influence more than anything. So while it is strange to others, it doesn't seem to bother Fran, even as she moves through the marketplace to get a better feel for her new surroundings.

As she walks through a particularly cold spot where no one else was, that did cause her to stop and look about. That was strange. There was nothing of the sort like this in Ivalice.

She glances about, attempting to see if there was someone playing a trick or attempting to cast magic. If it were the latter, they were poor mages that couldn't time their own spells right. But there was no blast of white, no shock of cold. "Are such cold spots where there should be none, normal?"

^{[I am essentially game if you have a different idea you'd like to play out! If you also want to toss ideas at me first, my plurk is open over at plantations]}