#Min'to

[abyssal-drain]

Journal: 26

(Medium size ShB/Large SB spoilers, be advised!)

I shouldn't be alive. 

It's not the first time I've had that thought, nor even the first time that it's been a rather literal assessment of my physical reality. 

I suppose I owe Jacques, though I know he would just tell me to pay it forward. Help those who can't help themselves. 

Let me explain; it's been a while since I last wrote.

The war with Garlemald, predictably, escalated. As I wrote earlier, as I feared earlier, everyone ended up needing more of everything. 

Ala Mhigo and Doma now stand independent of the Empire, joining ranks with the Eorzean Alliance to spite their former masters. Peace talks were attempted; they apparently failed almost before they began. Garlemald has never truly sought a peace that left their foes unbroken.

The rumor is that the Imperial Viceroy, Zenos yae Galvus, died in battle during the liberation of Ala Mhigo, and now a demon wears his skin. 

What I've heard of the man, you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference. A horribly talented warrior, with a streak of cruelty a malm wide and the strength of a dozen lesser men - that sounds more monster than man, to me. I've known more than my share of the walking dead, my own self now included. Such a man as he's supposed to be could surely accomplish the same.

Fortunately for us all, however, he quit the battlefield just before the Warrior of Light's party departed for some grand, world-saving scheme. I'll not question those who battle gods beyond my ken to their faces, but I do have to wonder what in all the hells is so much more important than standing against the Empire when they have something like Black Rose on their side?

Yeah, that's the name. Morbid, isn't it? It's a gas - odorless, colorless - Elementals preserve, I only noticed something was off because the aether in the place felt wrong. It had gone all … stiff, I suppose. Unmoving.

And then I started to go stiff and unmoving. 

I was lucky, apparently. I only caught a whiff of the stuff, after it had been used to kill a whole camp of soldiers without even a blade being lifted. It's … the people they used it on just laid down and let themselves die. The pull is inexorable. It seeps into your soul and tries to make you just … stop.

Well. We weren't having that. 

We dragged our corpse back to the others. Every step on the path took more than the one before. It's no wonder we've been sleeping all the time. It took so much just to stay alive, to keep moving when everything in us wanted to die.

Were we truly still alive when we reached Min'to? He certainly looked like he'd seen a ghost, or a zombie, maybe, to see us.

They sent us - me - to recuperate. Bedrest and being studied under a lens, to try and comprehend if the thing we did might be replicated at a lower price. I doubt it; there's a certain commitment you make, when walking the Path, to surviving out of sheer willpower and spite - that,  and the kind of magicks they lock you up for practicing. 

I have a simpler idea to save people's lives. 

If it's a gas that's the trouble, why not ensure the gas never reaches our soldiers? Masks for everybody,  maybe wind crystals to aid in filtering. I'll toss the idea at Sable.

Iksa is fussing over me when he thinks I'm not looking. It's cute. He's cute.

Think I wore myself out just to write this. Back to bed, then, before Lily puts a knife in me.

[wyrmwave]

i refuse to let the wallbahn stifle my creativity so

@pygmaioi

She sat back watching as Min’to wore his footsteps into the dusty forest floor; whether stomping or pacing, Miziutte could not be sure. As frustrated as he was, she could only find herself contented with the fact she wasn’t stuck waiting here ALONE. They could have forced the groups to split up in unreasonable ways, they could have sent them to opposite sides of the fight, but mercifully, the three hadn’t been fully separated. Perks to his Maelstrom rank, perhaps? She wasn’t about to question it.

They’d expected the man from the Flames to be there bells ago, more than bells, nearing a full sun ago, and yet their orders were explicit. Make camp in this part of the forest, wait, and ensure the area was secure. As infuriating as the wait was, there was simply no choice but to endure, anything more would be insubordination. She had no anxiety about this mission past combat nerves, and found trying to treat no news as the best news, no combat as preferable to the alternative. Knowing this had done nothing to help moral, however, and the nigh infinite patience the Keeper had was worn to fraying.

Another sidelong glance fell to Sable, curled up in what almost passed for a cot, bullied into sleeping off the afternoon heat in preparation for a night watch. Miziutte was sure he would know what to say, if anything, to snap the older man out of his angry trance. The woman sighed, cleared her throat, and watched as the pacing continued unabated. The only thing that came to mind was likely futile, but there was nothing better to do in this instance, after all, she reminded herself.

While he continued to carve feet into the dirt below, the Elezen busied herself with a kettle, warming water over the meager fire they’d been afforded, rummaging through the provisions they’d managed to bring with them, and the scant additions they’d been given as they left the Castrum. What she wanted was simple, and yet they lacked it nonetheless. An inconvenienced look crossed her face, teeth gripping her bottom lip as she thought.

Spying a tiny tin of something she’d not thought of, she muttered to herself, “...good as anything I guess,” and she continued on to putter with the kettle, adding an unknown variety of things to it. Soon a fragrance neither of them would recognize began to waft from the pot, though still not breaking the man’s strides. Miziutte poured a fair amount into a cup, instantly regretting picking one with no handle as she hissed at the heat, dropping the cup to the ground. The water had been hotter than expected, and at this, the prompting of the sound, Min’to finally snapped his head up, eyes wide as he picked out her location.

Miziutte couldn’t help but laugh at him, “It’s just...WAS just tea,” and she giggled as the cup was retrieved, though the laughter died in her throat as she saw the furrowed brow, “Honest, honest Min’to I though the tea would help with your nerves!” The tone was pleading nearly, quite desperate at this point to see his shoulders un-hunch and his hands un-clench. The Keeper’s face softened a degree as she explained, and the man briefly shook his head.

Taking a different mug in hand, one with a handle this time, he offered it in Miziutte’s direction, “Then I’ll take some, if you’ve got this optimism,” Min’to left a degree of deadpan sarcasm hang in that word, but the cadence betrayed him as she poured him a cup of the off-kilter tea, and she felt his eyes still on her as she helped herself to some as well. Even after all these moons, she hated to confess it was still that easy to swoon her at times, and she felt her cheeks flush when her partner tried the drink. The woman sighed in relief as he didn’t make a face or spit the concoction out, and tried it herself, pleasantly surprised at the taste.

“We’ll all be done here soon enough,” he muttered, “But I wish we were done now.” Walking behind him, the Elezen curled her free arm around his shoulders, pulling him back against her body, already more at ease with the simple touch of him. Half-coaxing, half-dragging, she led him back to the fire, and there he collapsed down into the makeshift chair she’d pointed out, looking exhausted as he sat there. Gingerly settling down onto the forest floor next to him, Miziutte leaned her head into Min’to’s side, grateful she was a small bit of solace to him, at the very least, and for a brief span, the wait was forgotten, at least until the tea was gone.

[otternally-afk]

the 65 gatherer gear is??? so cute?????

[wyrmwave]

Okhi: Who is this chick? Should I know her?

Miziutte: *thinking* Shit she doesn't know who I am

Min'to, who is not wearing his glasses: What's this about showing her something? OK onto that train of thought

Miziutte: *blinks*

Okhi: *blinks*

Min'to: ...

Min'to: In fairness, I'm not wearing my glasses.

[wyrmwave]

Evoker Adrift

Title: Evoker Adrift Word Count: 3,297

Legit six pages of RP-related exposition below the cut explaining Miziutte’s recent Fantasia. Name change explanation story to follow at a later time. Why is my shit summoner gal so desaturated lately...?

For what it’s worth, RP that’s gonna happen in the next couple days is taking places about two weeks out from this event, that’s about where we are as of this fic’s posting..I’ve been sitting on this a while and poking it and editing and finally just said JUST FINISH IT FFS WE’RE ALREADY PAST THIS PART IN THE RP

When Miziutte opened her eyes, she was unsure if she had opened them at all. Her body ached, and she felt almost weightless in spite of that. Her mind was a swirl of confusion, "Am I dead? Is this what it feels like..." she wondered aloud, noting that she could hear her own words. They echoed and warped in the unseeable surrounds, and she tried to pick out anything but darkness around her. The woman instinctively reached for her own hand, to spin at her ring, and found solace in that she could hear the words as they echoed, a twisted, uncomfortable sound. Regardless, she tried a few more words, testing her voice and surroundings, "Sable?! Min'to!" If this was a dream, maybe they'd wake her. It wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up from a night terror with Min'to staring down at her, white-knuckled hands to her shoulders, shaking her awake.

She swallowed hard, trying to retrace what had happened. She let the Allagan girl out, she told Eir no, she tried to break away and Eir had...what HAD Eir done? There was a vague recollection of a man (was it a man?) in a dark robe, shouting, Eir's bloody face, he pointed at her, at Eir, at her again, more shouting...It was all a fog, and she was running, running as fast as she could from the pair. She recalled pain in her legs, searing hot, and she remembered falling. Miziutte ran a hand down her thigh, indeed feeling torn leggings and dried blood. Whatever Eir or the man had hit her with had torn them up well, and she felt several cuts still bleeding.

The realization that she was still bleeding was sobering and terrifying, especially since she couldn't feel or see her surroundings at the moment. Any manner of creature could be lurking, and fresh blood was not a smell she wanted tied to her in unfamiliar lands. She kept her eyes open as far as she physically could manage, still straining to see anything as she tried to remember what happened. As she did so, Miziutte removed her jacket, hastily tearing some strips out of the inner lining to bandage her legs. She'd fallen, yes, but into something, not to the ground. Legs still burning, she'd fallen into...nothing? She remembered a shimmer before her eyes as she began to fall, like the ripple of an invisible curtain. Miziutte recalled the screams of both Eir and the Allagan girl as she fell.

The Allagan girl. That thought reverberated in the Elezen's mind. She thought a silent prayer for her, wherever she was, that she'd gotten away safely. In contrast, her next thought was a silent plea that Eir hadn't. Who was that strange man, she pondered as she tied the bandages, all quickly soaking with blood. Placing a hand over her leg, she attempted to cast her own weak Physick, something to help speed along the staunching of the blood. It was about all she was good for when it came to healing, and she wanted to do what little she could while she was still safe. Was she safe, though? Her face paled as the spell failed, and failed, and failed. Were her aether reserves tainted? Compromised? Why wasn't it working...?

It was then she heard a noise in the dark, a shifting, a shuffling, and any curiousity fell away in favor of a shivering fear. The instant and repeated failure of the only spell she'd cast since her...was it still something that qualified as a 'fall' when it put you into what seemed almost...another world? In that moment, it dawned on her. Everything clicked into place as she realized, whispering, "This...this is the Void, isn't it..." Bile rose in her throat at the realization, panic setting in as all manner of voidsent ran through her mind, the concept of being in their home paralyzing. No wonder she felt weightless, formless. No wonder her Physick failed. There was no Aether here, a realm devoid of the lifegiving substance.

...

Well...not entirely devoid, she realized, her blood running cold. She was there, after all.

All manner of thoughts raced to mind, the sudden shifting sounds instantly more terrifying with this revelation. People didn't generally return from the Void, and if that was indeed where she was...she could only pray the Allagan Miqo'te truly lived up to her role as a messenger and had gotten the message into Blind Eye's hands. The chances of most of the organization being able to free her would be slim, and the message hadn't mentioned anything about her falling into the Void, after all, but it was the only chance she had at this point.

Torn clothes and cuts aside, she began to feel a bit more whole as she put things in order in her mind. Miziutte swallowed hard, trying not to vomit as she worked to make sense of it all. The Void was mostly formless, from what she'd read, but she'd seen evidence to the contrary when she heard the tales of the warriors that stormed the place to seal the Crystal Tower. She'd not been lucky enough to be in the group, to see firsthand the Warrior of Light bungle the plans of such a high-ranking voidsent, but it was proof enough that somebody could come here and return. How had they fought, she wondered, considering that she couldn't see anything around her. Had the Warrior of Light been to some other plane of the Void? Her lack of knowledge on the subject was dauntingly clear, and Miziutte wished she'd spent more time researching it.

Bringing her knees to her chest, she huddled there in the darkness, simply thinking. It had been almost like the ripple of a curtain, what she fell through, and by logic, that dictated there could be others? Perhaps? But what if it was not a natural tear? The man in black had been there, which could have impacted...The Elezen bit her lip, thinking back. He was an anomaly, she'd thought, but upon further introspection, she HAD seen Eir with the man before. A scant few times, granted, such as when Eir had tampered with her Aether, any time that she'd been put under for an experiment herself, in fact. He had always showed up right as she was being put to sleep, and try as she might, she couldn't remember a face to the body, just the robes. It really was no matter, though, in the end. If he was the cause of the tear or not, it wasn't as if she could simply contact him and ask him to reopen it. Though... "YOU! The man in black! You're not here, are you?" Silence. It had been worth a shot, at least...

...Or not. A sound came from her left, something sliding, slick, and enormous, like the sound of a giant slug. Miziutte's eye straining still proved fruitless as SOMETHING approached, and in a desperate attempt to feel even a little safer, she found herself reaching for her tome, blind to the actual contents, and ripped her pen from the binding on the outside, sightlessly scribbling out her Tiger Eye Carbuncle. In a burst of light, the little thing appeared, the construct the only source of light in her surrounds. She almost wished she couldn't see still, as she looked towards the sound, and saw the shambling Mindflayer staring her down. Her skin paled nearly to ash at the sight, attempting to slowly rise. It hurt to put pressure on the leg, but it was stand and fight now, or never stand again, she realized.

Tapping into the natural flow of aether was impossible here, with no flow to find, and the aether she had dammed would have to suffice her until she found a way out...but any combat would empty those reserves quickly. With no idea how long her time here would last, fighting seemed an unwise choice. Still, faced with this creature before her, she wasn't sure what else to do. Bracing herself, she waited for it to make the first move, ready to entreat the Carbuncle for a knockback, when she felt the rush of air past her. The construct had begun to attack of its own accord, likely sensing the Mindflayer about to strike. Miziutte found herself attempting to move a few paces back from the fight, her surroundings shifting as she moved. The further from the initial landing spot she moved, the more she could see, and once she'd moved about ten fulms back, the world around her was clear.

An expanse of black surrounded her, but among it, floating crusts of earth and dust adrift in the air. The platform she stood upon could only be called that, no longer an actual landmass. A yawning abyss of deep purple gaped around the land, almost threatening to swallow it whole. On the same note, Miziutte turned from her awe that the scenery at the moment the Mindflayer crunched the Carbuncle, a pitiful squeal as the voidsent shoved it into its maw, and consumed the aether that had bound the construct, leaving nothing behind. The woman knew the construct would only buy her a little time, but she hadn't imagined it would have been that little. Its gaze fell upon her immediately after, and she found herself casting Painflare without a second thought, her survival instinct overriding her concern for wasting her aetheric reserves.

The Mindflayer recoiled, and she pulled at its aether, once, twice, draining back at least what it had taken by consuming the Carbuncle. There was no channel of aether to pull from to enter the Trance, however, she realized, and as she scribbled out the enhanced Ruin, time and time again, until the beast fell, it became all too obvious that her reserves would be spent as far as combat went after this one instance. When the voidsent finally stumbled and fell, dissipating back into the hazy air, Miziutte found herself collapsing as well, sinking to her knees in exhaustion. The aether wasn't refilling, her well mostly spent. The emergency flasks of ether at her hip clinked against each other as she fell to the ground, and she hastily grabbed at them, ripping the corks and downing them, one after another, until each of the three were empty. She kept the bottles, fastening them back to the band, and sat there, tired and confused.

It wasn't long before she could stand again, and she found herself wandering. The platform she was on seemed endless as far as her 'left' and 'right' went, though she had no way of finding her actual bearings in the place. 'Forward' and 'back'were less endless, with the huge nothing of purple below her clearly visible. All she could think of to do was walk, to follow the unending ground towards an end, and hope to find something there. After what felt like hours of uninterrupted walking, her mind fuzzy and blank, Miziutte saw a ruin before her, a towering black-bricked spire, half gone and unkempt, the walls glistening with pale purple aetheric taint. It was shelter, at the very least, and she found herself climbing the steps unthinking, finding a small, covered room near the top with a tiny window. The floor was bare stone, but it was something out of sight.

Miziutte let herself sprawl on the floor, facing the window and staring at it, bleary-eyed. She could see the entrance and the window from her vantage, which made her feel a degree safer. Lying on the floor, she pulled out her tome again, scribbling another weak construct, an altered Topaz Carbuncle. It came small and thin into the world, drawn carefully from her limited reserves, and she bid it keep watch. Giving a curt nod, the Carbuncle stood at attention, its ears and nose and eyes all keenly glittering. Assured she'd done all she could, Miziutte let her eyes droop and mind clear, trying to find some rest among the dark stones.

Was it seconds, minutes, bells, suns, weeks, or moons that she slept? Miziutte didn't know. When her eyes finally opened again amid the tainted stones, it stung to open them. The Elezen grimaced, and her face burned. She shifted, and her joints felt like flame. Concerned, she lowered her gaze and found herself nearly throwing up again. The deep purple of the stone and air around her had seeped into her skin, glowing veins of color tracing every ilm of her. Miziutte jumped to attention, examining every part of her, and seeing clearly that it was indeed her entire body covered in this taint. She rubbed at her hand, seeing if it would smear, change in any way, to no avail. The veins of purple and white were hot to the touch, immovable, and her tears landed on her hands before she knew she was crying.

The realization was more than sobering, it was dreadful, it was dismal. It felt only hours since she’d entered this hellish landscape, and already she seemed irreparably damaged. Miziutte looked like one of her experiments, and she wondered how long she had before her insides were tainted as badly as her outsides. It was a wonder that the voidsent hadn't consumed her in her sleep. Perhaps it was the guard-construct-- It was then she realized she had not seen the Carbuncle as she awoke, and she searched for it, called it to heel. There was a whisper of a response, but the construct had clearly decayed to an unusable point while she dozed. Recalling what little aether of it she could, Miziutte curled back up into the corner, her only thoughts a desperate memory of home.

Home. A honeyed word in that moment, one that only made the tears fall harder. Home. Home was never further than in that moment, she feared. Far enough away she'd never see it again, most likely. Far enough that she’d never see another member of Blind Eye ever again. Far enough away that Sable couldn't wipe her tears, far enough away that Min'to couldn't bring a blanket, far enough away that the stack of contracts would never be completed, far enough away that-- Her mind raced with everything she wanted, the mundane, the boring, the obnoxious, the domestic. In that moment, the idea of doing the dishes was appealing, of cleaning the Free Company stables even. Anything to feel the aether-rich star she knew as home around her again.

One never contemplates what it feels like to have no aether around you, ambient in the air, until there is none. For someone trained in arcane arts, the absence is even more noticeable, and it was suffocating. Choking sobs finally gave way to the building bile and she puked upon the stone, hands bracing against the wall as she retched. She felt no passage of time as she cried, as she climbed the next set of stairs. Miziutte stood upon the top of the ruins, wondering if she would even die if she jumped off. Was this truly all a bad dream? Would she wake? It all felt unreal, the world continuing to warp and shift ever so slightly as she stood there. From the top, the woman saw much further, and it was malms upon malms of wreckage, of twisted landscape unsure of itself. Sitting down, she sat and watched the swirl of color and of nothing around her, feeling no hunger, just a gnawing lack of aether throughout her whole body.

After more time passed, she found herself pondering her (seemingly) final act. After moons and moons of assisting Eir, kidnapping ‘willing’ participants for experimentation, the people who had pleaded with her for release from the agony, the people who she’d obliged, the people who she’d denied. It had never seemed reprehensible until the Allagan girl...someone who was unable to speak to anyone but her, somebody who her Echo had resonated with, giving her the first real look at what she’d been doing through another’s eyes. It was damning that it had taken something that explicit to show her how wrong she’d been...though it mattered little now, she thought bitterly.

Miziutte sighed, feeling a strange sense of peace about it; at least her last act had been a good one, something to help make up for what she'd been doing with Eir, in a way. She hugged herself tighter, wondering how long it would take her to expire in this place. Already, the gnawing lack of aether had progressed to a feeling of suffocation, almost an actual inability to breathe now. The world around her was growing fuzzier by the moment, or was it by the bell? Time didn’t seem to play out in a way she could follow here, and perhaps that was for the best. Better to not know if it had been weeks without food making her dizzy, (or suns,) or if it was simply bells of aether starvation causing this reaction.

The place only seeped into her more, and Miziutte was content to wait for the end up there, watching the shifting scenery around her. In her nigh-delirious state, she even began to find herself hallucinating, thinking she saw more light around her, thinking she heard a name, her name? It couldn’t be. The woman ignored it, tightening her grip on her legs, curling into herself as the sound continued. It was very clearly her own name she was hearing, and the light was not ambient, instead, a crack in the world in front of the tower. Silly, she thought to herself, a crack in the world...just as silly as anything calling her name in this place.

Her name got louder, and the light got brighter. Miziutte only tried harder to keep her eyes closed and let her knuckles go white as she kept her legs pressed into her chest. “MIZIUTTE!” Suddenly, a hand at her shoulder, nails tight into the fabric and her name at her ear, and she looked up with a jolt. Intent blue eyes met unfocused teal ones as Min’to stared down at her, hands now both at her shoulders and pulling, “Hurry.” There was no room for argument, for a question, he was already pulling her towards the crack she’d seen. It was too bright for her to bear; she grimaced but didn’t resist. The sudden change from curled up to moving was painful as well, and if not for the man’s strength, she’d later admit, she wouldn’t have even been able to stand at that point, let alone move or walk.

The world became a blur of light and touch and pain as he helped her towards where he must have came from, and upon being asked, she wouldn’t be able to articulate how it had felt, or where they had arrived as they passed through. All she could recall was the inability to see, the pain of the movement, and the pressure of his claws in her shoulder as the lack of aether gave way to a surrounds she could handle. It was the difference between being underwater, lungs burning for air, and finally breaking the surface for your first breath in what feels like an age. There was light, pain, and then, air.

Air.

Her body was in shock, and her mind couldn’t parse out what was happening, too aether-starved to manage much of anything. Sleep took her quickly as the ambient aether began to flood against her, and she drifted off knowing she would be safe now. Anything else for the next two days would be a blur of healing magic, muttered words, and warm blankets, but she wouldn’t regret being able to recall or process it. It was enough to know she was home.

[abyssal-drain]

15

I don't think I've ever met a nunh who didn't have his head lodged firmly inside of his own asshole. That's a nice change of pace. I guess I passed out - blood loss is a bitch. You don't get to be nunh without physical strength, so they had to call him in to carry me. 

Casters rarely train their bodies as intensely as their minds, and I rather doubt Lily has the wherewithal to lift even a lalafell, much less a full-grown miqo'te.

I stopped by the Gaze to deliver the crystal. Understand - she didn't quite grasp that, Miz didn't - but I don't think I'm even remotely ready to try to train as a scholar. I'm barely worthy of the title arcanist, and that, only because I scraped by the first examination by my fingernails.

However - I believe the knowledge deserves to be shared. Healers are infinitely more valuable in day-to-day life than fighters. If I'd only gone to collect it for selfish reasons, I would've waited moons or even turns, so I'd be ready. There are loads of young arcanists who are ready now, or will be by the time Mint finishes copying his crystal's designs onto the new one. If I ever get to that level, I'm sure it's possible to repeat the process.

I feel I'm poking at the limits of what's already etched into mine. Mayhaps it's time I learn how to scribe my own deeds down. For posterity, since I'm not going to live forever. Those who try tend to be a bit more, well, evil than I'd like to ever be.

Remembering what I did last night feels so surreal, though.

Moving aether about like that isn't the hard part, not by a long shot - it felt kind of like painting in magic.

Ripping open my arm gave me quite a bit of power to work with, though, enough it disintegrated that striking dummy. Put to a person, the results would be messy.

It probably has some kind of fancy name like "destroy" or "unmake" or something - Jacques preferred to teach me how things worked, and for the most part, I preferred that, too. But when she asked me for the words, what things were called, I had to admit I simply didn't know.

Maybe Kaito does.

I also didn't know Mint had a girlfriend. Honestly, I figured if anything, he was seeing Sable, and it definitely isn't my place to judge if a man likes another man - I hop into bed with other women, when the mood strikes me, near as often as I find an attractive man to scratch that itch. But the way Mint was with her, and that knot of feelings she has for him, I think it's more than likely they're together.

Mizuitte, is her name in full. I gather she's got some kind of hang-up over soul crystals. Her head was kind of dizzying, but she's been sick, recently. It's not my business.

I made a complete mess of explaining how I knew how she felt, though.

Who came up with the idea that some folk should barely come to crotch height on another person? Hydaelyn's got some explaining to do - Forge's legs are each as large as I am.

Maybe the crystal's into that sorta thing.

Fun fact: 

The Echo does not protect you from being picked up and tossed about. 

Mentioned: @gigantpole @pygmaioi @stiltedtomes @forgefighter-ffxiv 

[abyssal-drain]

14

You know, if Nicky weren't so damned lazy, he'd be a force to be reckoned with. As it stands, about six Ul'dahn moneylenders have reasonably legitimate claims on his soul.

I guess textbooks aren't cheap.

Being honest, I probably should ask him why he's had cause to visit all the places he has, but that would invite uncomfortable lines of inquiry in turn. Best to keep that particular relationship purely business.

I might go visit Winter again soon. Having to plan extensively so I'm not trapped anywhere for too long is a nuisance. I've seen casters who can zip about the lifestream and pop out wherever they damn well please, whenever they damn well please. Nicky's one, that's why I hire him. Kid's a little younger than I am, and shaping up already to master the aetherical arts.

I was sorely tempted to call on Sable for that list of elezen in need of a good punch to the reproductive organs, but I decided against it. Instead, I called Nicky's pearl and had him take me up to the frozen hellshole that is Ishgard. From there, I visited some of the only elezen that don't make me automatically need to punch them.

Whoever put such cheerfully optimistic souls in charge of making guns is either a genius or a damned fool, and I can't quite tell which it is.

They needed something delicate delivered, the sort that you can't trust to moogles, because the inquisitive little kleptomaniacs get into everything and this would apparently leave a fine red mist where the moogle was for such tampering. I bargained the job and a handful of gil on top for a fresh, uncut soul crystal - I'll need to get that on over to Mint, when I can.

You never think about how different you are until someone who hasn't seen you in moons turns back up, worse for wear, but still alive. The last time Fao saw me, I had all my limbs but couldn't speak.

The last time I'd seen him, he was happy.

I said I didn't care, and to an extent, it's true. Whatever took the shine off his eyes, it's not my business. But he's like a brother to me, and I want to show whoever hurt him their own entrails, all the same.

mention: @shotsfiredxiv @pygmaioi 

[abyssal-drain]

12

There seems to be a formula for every occasion.

You start with the diagnostic spell, which basically just collects all the relevant points of data - height, weight, general wellbeing, physical sexual characteristics, presence of illness or injury - it gives all the variables.

In a pinch, you can guess some of the important ones by more obvious cues (like, oh, he's bleeding from a gaping hole in his chest, I wonder what's wrong), and if you know your allies well, it's good to do that spell while they're uninjured, so you can guess more efficiently.

Then, just calculate and channel.

It's kind of hard to do it on the fly, supposedly, so those books are sort of just page after page of standard equations that you just put the right numbers into.

Like, "head injury = probable concussion" - so there's a spell to check just that one thing, and if that's true, how bad it is, and then you can apply the formula that will efficiently turn aether into reduced pressure and repaired tissue.

I think I might be able to figure out a formula or something to siphon aether from bloodshed I wasn't even an active participant in. The Arts aren't the only way to do this sort of thing, they're just the - I don't want to say 'easiest,' because for someone who's always understood how to channel aether, that's likely not true. They're a martial discipline with some magical talents, though, and the first part being familiar makes the latter part easier for me to grasp, is all - it feels more natural to tie everything back to violence.

That probably says something about me, doesn't it?

I left a bit of eggplant out on a plate, today. Did it sneaky-like, playing the distracted student who 'just forgot.'

I have a hunch, based on the relative size of my shadowy admirer, but nothing is quite certain, yet. The plate emptied, mysteriously, adding evidence to the pile. I'll call that a victory, especially since eggplant isn't really my favorite. Baby likes it, though, as does Kaito's little monster.

Seedkin can be vicious, and cannibalism is common for them. It's all just fertilizer, I suppose.

I haven't had any luck tracking down more information about how aethercell -

Concussion pressure is often caused by blood and other fluids inside the skull - if I could convert that blood to aether and then displace the aether (for example, into an aethercell battery) it would immediately relieve symptoms and give power source for repairs?? Careful - aether crystals in skull would exacerbate symptoms & make new problems!

Anyway, I haven't found much information on crafting such equipment. I can see about pestering Winter about it, if Mint and Sable haven't figured anything out.

The thing is, I'm concerned about losing this stuff, too. I never used to wear jewelry, and I still misplace stuff unless I've cause to keep it around, like the collar I wear because people have a habit of asking questions or the carefully-concealing gloves with claw-slits that I had made for the same reason. I'm afraid I'll lose track of what I did with a battery full of the destructive power of the gods - what the fuck.

An arcanist's formulae are in their grimoire though, and without the book, there can't be much for sophisticated spellwork anyway. At least, not in any kind of reasonable time frame. Maybe it'd just be most effective to find a way to affix the battery to the book, then?

I've started learning to actually draw the most basic designs out in that conductive ink. Mine aren't anywhere near as intricate as the complex works I've seen in working arcanists' grimoires, but at least I understand what every line is supposed to actually do!

[abyssal-drain]

11

I keep spotting something from the corner of my eye. If it had been only once or twice, I might have discounted it as my mind playing tricks on me.

But it isn't.

I mean to continue playing this game, feigning ignorance of its doings. When it becomes complacent, I'll catch my foe unawares, and then - we'll see, from there.

My gift is actually proving useful in this matter. If I sensed the creature that stalks me held immediate violence in its heart, I might be less patient. For now, knowing that it watches me as surely as I watch it, I can content myself to wait.

So, the nervous Raen healer - Min, I know her name starts with that much, at least - I think I mentioned her? She also has a faerie, and I finally decided to ask about it, now that I know more about such beings, myself.

It turns out that instead of being obliterated by the Elementals, Nym succumbed to some kind of a curse, so those who yet remain are now some kind of violent creatures called tonberries.

Mint - the scholar cat - has a faerie named Lily. Min - this is going to bother me, it's one of those Doman names, and by this point it'll be rude to ask - her faerie is named Miri. There. I've put it to paper, so if I forget, I can look back on this writing and recall.

It's not a nice feeling, to be ignored and left out just because you can't speak up.

Mint says they do communicate in images and emotions, which means they are quite capable of thinking and feeling. He also says that most folk ignore them, which doesn't surprise me at all. That said, I'm making it a point to greet them and pay attention when they're around, because it's polite, and I remember just how lonely it got when nobody cared to talk with me because I couldn't talk back. It got so bad I even tried to speak, though it hurt like fire in my throat to make the attempt.

Min, the Raen, she's observant. I'm a bit surprised she wasn't put off by how we met - me, pretty much commandeering her aid so I could burn off some excess aggression, and all.

Ah, well.

Mint thinks my ideas have merit - all of them. Against our better judgment, I showed him my crystal as proof the process I suggested might work. I figured he was the sort to want to share his knowledge with the world, and I was right. He seemed surprised, but in a good way.

He'd heard of the aethercell equipment - I read up more on the process, and apparently, it's originally a Nymian idea. Go figure.

If the bloodletting's done in moderation, so it doesn't leave permanent damage, he thinks that it would be possible to build up a reserve that way. Though it'd be small, a little at a time, unless I found someone worth milling - killing. That bit of pirate slang seems appropriate though - grind them up, and turn them into a fine aetheric paste. Because reasons, that's why.

It feels good to think that I came up with something worth exploring. It really does.

[abyssal-drain]

10

I think I'll talk to Min'to again after I've got a bit more study in. While I'm fairly confident I have no way to gain access to an ancient Nymian soul crystal, if I wanted to study to become a scholar I may not have to, and honestly, it may not be practical to look for anything ancient at all.

New soul crystals can be made - I watched part of that process, myself. I might not know how it's done, but I'm not barred from setting foot in Ishgard, and them at the manufactory are good, optimistic folk. I'm sure we can come to a reasonable agreement for an unmarked soul crystal, and from there, it should be possible to copy the deeds scribed into Min'to's crystal, if he's willing, like Jacques did when I was first studying the Arts.

Even if I have no intention or ability to pursue this path, myself, I wish to broach the topic.

I have always thought it's more valuable to build and repair, than destroy. Anyone can tear something down. It takes time and effort to make something new. If it's possible to produce these crystals - to preserve and distribute this knowledge - why shouldn't we?

I feel that it would be best to contact Min'to for several reasons.

One: he's practicing this art in the context of our modern world. Even if I could locate another crystal, the last time these arts were practiced was the War of the Magi, and the world has changed since then.

Two: he is both knowledgeable and willing to share that knowledge. I believe that he would agree with my assessment: as a natural progression of acranima, it can only be a good thing if the art of the Scholar resurfaces in Eorzea.

And, well, for three: I confess a certain selfishness in my desire to learn. I think he'd be willing to teach me, even if I had to resort to increasingly convoluted methods to build enough aetheric reserve to cast even the most basic of spells.

Things have been rather quiet for these last few days. I have split my time between learning the intricate formulae that describe our world in mathematical terms, and practicing my blade work. I haven't seen Kaito recently, but Jacques sent a letter informing me he'd arrived in Doma, and reminding me to practice the left handed parries, even though we both know I can just take the hit to that side. Garlean steel doesn't fuck around.

It's important to realize that knowledge is a commodity to be shared only with trusted allies. If people think I'm just dumb muscle, for example, then I still have the element of surprise. They hear a forestborn drawl or a pirate's clipped cant, they won't expect I can also unravel their spells (which there's a formula for) or even heal (which is practically the whole reason arcanists find themselves in the field).

Sure, I can't do any of that yet, but it's all theoretically possible, and disguising such capabilities behind brute force will always be advantageous. It's the same with left-handed parries. I have to understand my limits, but my enemies should not be allowed to guess at them - or, better, they should make their evaluations based on wildly inaccurate assumptions. For example, they don't need to know that my left arm is metal to the shoulder.

Most people arrange each other into neat categories. They employ stereotypes as a shorthand, and figure they know who you are because they've known people like you. If you seem to fit into one of their boxes, then someday, you will end up surprising them as an individual.

No, I'll not clear up my accent while speaking, nor dress nicer than I do - it's advantageous if everyone just assumes I'm nothing more than Promiscuous Dumb Muscle Cat #1678.

Even if their misconceptions can be annoying. Do you know, I got mistaken for a whore the other day?

Someone - or something - has been watching us.

[abyssal-drain]

8

You think you're getting a feel for someone, and then they drop a fucking bridge out from under you.

It was a training exercise!

Yes, I was going a bit hard, but would the Empire go easy? Still, if she'd gotten too hurt to fix what she'd done, there's a marked difference between accidentally nonfatally hurting an ally, and doing millions of gil in property damage. Even yet it's probably a couple hundred thousand to smooth out the seams where she put it back, like.

What the fuck.

I should've maybe gone a bit easier, but when casters are involved, I feel like I don't really have a choice. That shitty puddle of violence knocks the wind out of my sails every time, and it's almost all I can manage at once.

Fuck me sideways.

So, I talked to this hyur mechanic last night, for something that's only sort of related.

I could've gotten seriously hurt during all of that, and only so many mechanics are around who can repair something like my arm. Put plainly, Winter lives in Gridania, and Book (why is she called Book? Does she throw them at people?) kind of scares me a bit. Plus, I don't want to be a burden on the company's resources. I've no idea where Winter got her hands on that much Garlean steel, and being honest, I'd rather not ask questions like that. I'll be paying for repairs if I don't go to either of them, which feels - better, to me. More equitable, somehow.

Anyway - the hyur lives in this place nearby, Ward 11, a lounge called the Gaze.

It's nice enough, but I wasn't there for the bar, you know? Decent food, tea and a steak, while I waited - let me back up though, because I actually spotted the mechanic outside. He's got one of those fancy guns, like the machinists out in Ishgard do - loud as fuck, though. A real loud, screaming and banging sort of fuck, you know? LOUD. Anyway, so in between shots I asked him if he might be the mechanic, because that kind of a gun, that specific kind, takes a bit of mechanical know-how, or so I've heard.

It turns out he is. He's also - focused is a word for it. 'Ditz' is a less polite word for it.

So, it's not that he's stupid in the least. It's that he's only really interested in the one thing - it's like how Dad was.

Dad used to go after a project so hard that nothing else matters, so things us lesser mortals need like food and sleep hardly matter - until he's literally unable to go on, passed out in a pile of tools and scraps. Looking back, it's endearing how silly Dad used to get. At the time, I just felt real lonely, and a bit like he didn't care. I mean, the third time he sent the Wailers out and burst into tears when they brought me home unharmed, I sort of figured it out, at least, but I still had to spend a lot of time finding something to keep myself busy. Me taking up with the Lancers was a blessing for both of us, I think.

I had the suspicion that Sable is like that just from talking to him, a bit, but it turns out he's got a cat that sort of acts as a keeper to him and their whole group.

This guy, his name's Min'to, is something else. Did you know that fairies are apparently from Nym?

I don't know how this fellow got his hands on a soul crystal from a dead civilization, but apparently Nymian 'Scholars' used a more advanced sort of arcanima to make fairies, somehow. I guess it's probably like carbuncles, he compared the principles anyroad. We had a long chat on that topic, because he had her following him around, his fairy friend. He confirmed that Sable's absolutely how I figured he was, that over-enthusiastic sort, and he's used to looking after the hyur.

Mint - he appreciated the pun in my name because he understands my pain, I think - Min'to handles business affairs and making sure people actually eat. I guess they've a whole company organized out of the Gaze. I sort of offered my services as a registered adventurer. Sure, I've got the Pearl, and it feels good to have a set, steady place to work, but an extra job or two can't hurt, financially, so long as I don't get too injured or waste too much for resources, you know?

I'm still not entirely sure if Mint was joking about taking me up on my offer to punch every Ishgardian who'd ever hurt his friend - being honest, I'm not entirely sure if I was joking. It's altogether too tempting to go up those fucking steps and just punch every elezen I come across, and having a reason and specific targets would just make that more tempting. The great thing about being crotch height to half the other races: they fold like a house of cards when you hit 'em just so.

Fuck Ishgard, and fuck Halone's frosty tits. If I never go back it'd be too soon.

I wonder how Fao's doing? 

OOC: Hey look, it’s an Okhi Journal, post all-natural retcon polish.

@shotsfiredxiv

@blind-eye-xiv

[otternally-afk]

dye obtained

[otternally-afk]

I absolutely did not get flight specifically to idle at the plum spring for several hours instead of continuing my msq what are you talking about

[otternally-afk]

mentioned art in exchange for gil. not sure what would be appropriate to charge. been a while since I drew anything and I'd likely have to do a few practice rounds to get back into it, but these are the most recent things I've done that I already have pics of on my phone. if my style has changed enough I'll make another post/edit this one in a day or two with updated pics, but as of rn this is what I can show. limited to busts due to what I know of my skill level, will be pencil & paper, color optional if I've got pencils for it, possibly inked. honestly depends on if any of my ink pens still work. :/

[otternally-afk]

@keali-art

ty for the thought ;;

the tl;dr is that people are arguing whether it’s lore-accurate for characters to speak “doman” or if they just speak “eorzean” and there are points for both sides (some from in-game dialogue, some from official statements, some from lorebook...it doesn’t matter where it’s from guys quit shittin on each other over it or I’ll beat ya with my own lorebook. it’s not a goddamn bible >:| )

tbh I don’t care which people want their character to speak, and this whole mess could be avoided if people just...didn’t rp with people who rp things they don’t like?? common sense here???? it costs $0 and hurts nobody to rp with people who like to rp the same things you do and just not rp with people who don’t???????

unfortunately common sense doesn’t appear to be all that common right now and it’s getting tiring to see the same exact argument multiple times a day I saw a looooooong post on it like 5 minutes after waking up WONDERFUL start to the morning right there people need to c h i l l with the lore discourse

[otternally-afk]

Vital Stats

[Repost, replacing the old information with your character’s information. Pass it on to your mutuals for a better understanding of their characters. Copy and paste on a new post.] 

Tagged by: @citizensofeorzea​

gonna do Min’to and Sable so under a cut this goes~

NAME: Min’to Yura AGE: 32 HEIGHT: 5′5″ SPECIES: Miqo’te, Keeper of the  Moon GENDER: Male NAMEDAY: 3rd Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon/April 3rd  RESIDENCE: Limsa Lominsa MARITAL STATUS: Unmarried, Taken

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good DRINK: Mint Tea FOOD: Any small pastry tbh DAY OR NIGHT: Day SNACKS: None A FEW CURRENT SONGS On Their Playlist: N/A PET: N/A COLOR: Light Blue FLOWER: N/A SEXUALITY: Bi, Poly ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bi, Poly BODY TYPE: Mesomorph EYE COLOR: Bright Icy Blue HAIR COLOR: Icy - literally. w/ Mint green highlights.

NAME: Sable Singer AGE: 26 HEIGHT: 5′8″ SPECIES: Hyur/Elezen, Midlander/Wildwood GENDER: Male NAMEDAY: 1st Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon /May 1st RESIDENCE: Limsa Lominsa MARITAL STATUS: Unmarried, Taken

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good, bordering Chaotic Good/Neutral DRINK: Coffee Coffee Coffee FOOD: Breads, Honey DAY OR NIGHT: Night SNACKS: Anything easy to eat with one hand A FEW CURRENT SONGS On Their Playlist: N/A PET: Ferrofluid Construct (in the form of the Lesser Panda minion) COLOR: Warm Brown, White FLOWER: N/A SEXUALITY: Bi-curious, Poly ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bi-curious, Poly BODY TYPE: Ectomorph EYE COLOR: Right eye green, Left eye brown HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, blond highlights (mostly in bangs)

Tagging: uuuhhhh @stiltedtomes, @tired-gay-and-a-dj (if u wanna do it for ur lizard), @nekhs (plsbeokhi’sblog), and I...dunno who else I can tag l m a o