summoners-path:

Braska couldn’t help but smile at her as she spoke this time, not only at what she said, but the aura that seemed to surround her, moving through her voice and out into the room, as she spoke. She was truly passionate about many things, it seemed. She was driven. Her designs, her travels… He couldn’t explain it, but he was pleased to know that the people of Spira— like her— now had the time to care about such things. Not long before it would have been a luxury simply to have the will to consider such things. He couldn’t find fault her enthusiasm or even her analysis of him, nor did he want to. He was enjoying the conversation too much.

Yes, this is what Spira needed. Passion. His thoughts in this moment faded away from his own travels into thoughts of the future. The previous spell of melancholy faded with them.

“Ah, it seems I’ve been led to a woman both talented and philosophical.”, he said laughing. “I am impressed.” He gave her a soft smile as he continued. “You’re wrong about one thing, though. Fun is a noble pursuit. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He paused, glancing off to the side as he considered the rest of what she had said. His voice in those last few words had been more serious than he had intended. But, he was serious. He wanted her to know. As for his own plan, his own life…

"I came back because I wanted to… to put it simply. There are many things I want to do and see, of course. All in due time…”

So much of his last few years alive had been near-enough to a blur. He wanted to take things slowly this time. He had no destination, no goal. He simply was and, though he wasn’t sure she would understand, that was more freeing than any travel could have been. Perhaps she would understand, he considered, but he said nothing more, shaking his head and finally bringing his eyes back to meet hers.

"But you…”, he began again, a slight smirk crossing his face, “You have brothers?” He paused, grinning. “Is that how you came to become a weapons specialist? An attempt to prevent them from driving you mad?”

The new was suddenly more interesting to him than anything previous. He always enjoyed talking about others more than about himself. After all, what did he have to share? His story was already told.

“Philosophical is not something I’ve ever been accused of being before,” Chuami laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But, I’ll take it. I’ve decided I like you.”

She listened, nodding, hands pulled into her sleeves. He didn’t seem much like a… what did Isa call them? – a Fayth-chasing Temple rat – but then again, it seemed logical that he was different somehow, how else could he have had the edge that let him defeat Sin? She had read the accounts of his pilgrimage in great detail, but she had not been reading them to learn about him, and as a result, had always pictured the high summoner as someone cold, inflexible and able to complete terrible tasks by looking the other way. She couldn’t really imagine any other way to do it, but he seemed far too calm, too gentle for that kind of ruthlessness. 

He’s been closer to death than even I have. she told herself, testing the statement to see how well she believed it. Not at all, it seemed. For some reason, she had the odd impression that death wouldn’t have the heart to keep him.
I’d have gone crazy, she thought, Flat out insane after something like that. How does he not?
There were two answers to that question that she could think of; one, that he was so detached that it didn’t provoke that kind of emotional response from him, and two, that it did and that he was stronger than he looked – strong enough to overcome it. The first one seemed unlikely, given how easily she thought she could read his expressions. That only left the second, and it changed the way she viewed him.
Once again she realised she’d been silent for too long, his question and his smile snapping her back to the present.

“Hm? Yes! I do, they’re right… right… here…?”
But they weren’t. Chuami got to her feet, picked up a wrench from an empty desk and went to the back corner of the room, where a doorway showed an unsteady looking staircase leading down into darkness.
“Frana yna oui eteudc?!” she yelled down.
A male voice yelled back and a clanging echoed back into the workshop as she launched the wrench at someone. A few seconds later, two men followed her into the workshop, looking somewhat sheepish.
“Forgive our rudeness, summoner,” said the taller of the two, performing a careful prayer. “It is not you we avoid, it is sister and her…" His eyes went to the saw blades she had left on her desk and back to Braska, a slight grin crossing his face and vanishing before she could catch it. ”… Enthusiasm. It is an honour, truly.“

"Chu…” began the other, a skinny blonde wearing goggles that didn’t quite conceal scarring on one side of his face. “You sandy little dust mite, did you even offer your guest a drink?”

“Uh!? Wow, I guess I didn’t…”
“Manners of a sandworm…”
Chuami responded by slapping his hand as he stooped to pick up a water bottle. After a short scuffle that ended with both of them laughing and the blonde man having to shake her off his arm, Chuami returned to Braska and sat down. Her brother left them each a glass, made an excuse and went back downstairs with his own. 
“Sorry,” Chuami said, “He’s a little antsy around strangers. That one with the attitude problem is Sacha, and that one is Byron.”
Byron nodded and seemed to contemplate repeating the prayer movement. In the end, he didn’t; instead, he smiled and leaned against Chuami’s desk. “You are surely not here for weaponry, summoner? Perhaps you are here for… for… to arm your guardians?”
His expression and his voice were cheerful, but Chuami shot him a look that he ignored completely.