<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">The City of the Skies (http://i.imgur.com/dCsf501.jpg?1)</span></div><br/>When one speaks of the Purvema Region; those seemingly endless islands floating in the sky above the Great Naldoan Sea; many things come to mind. Of Airships, Glossaire Rings spinning as they ignore gravity and grant even the most landbound wings of their own. Of Bhujerba, with its miles of marketplaces, mines, and the many bridges that span the surrounding Floating Lands. Of Judges, brought to the Floating Lands by the alliance between Archadia and Bhujerba's Marquis. Of Skypirates, who like their Airships ignore all laws but those they deem worth their time, bowing to neither Lord nor Judge as they work the skies.<br/><br/>The difference between speaking and living, however, lies in one crucial fact that almost all accounts ignore. The Wind. Sometimes soft as a lover's kiss, at other times as harsh as a lover's scorn; the Winds of the Purvema are ceaseless, and on days like today it can be truly miserable. The Wind rushes through Bhujerba, turning small stones, sticks, and dust into stinging fingers slapping at exposed skin. Its foul mood drives most of the streets empty, individuals ducking indoors and market stalls setting up broad screens to keep what wind they can out and what customers they can in.<br/><br/>With a wind like today's, it is no surprise that Benoit returns early from the tavern, a folded and windbeaten slip of paper fluttering between his fingers. Out of the wind, and into the Aerodrome; walking through the grandly arched roof of the Central Chamber, small groups and individuals moving this way and that as enterprising Moogles manage the board showing purchasable flights and prices for airship docking, and voices complaining of the powerful weather outside. A nod shared with a tattooed Bangaa sees Benoit slip through the doors leading to Private Ships, just as a last shred of familial ties sees Benoit able to dock the<em>Green Shimmer</em>for next to nothing.<br/><br/>A large elevator sees him the rest of the way, opening to one of the numerous Docks carved into the underside of Bhujerba. The Dock might be old and relatively uncared for, his wallet may be stretched thin by having made it so far from Archadia, but the ship before him is his. And the slip of paper, at least, is a chance to get both feet back on the ground.<br/><br/>Not that anyone living in the Purvema would ever consider such a phrase, of course.