An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
It wasn’t the first night G’raha has spent sitting alone by the campfire, pouring over documents long after the rest of the Ironworks crew had retired for the night.
The gnats from the lake always start buzzing in his ear around this hour, reminding him that he really should invest in some bug spray.
Is that even something they still make, now that bugs are the least of their problems when facing the aftermath of a Calamity?
When G’raha had sealed himself in the tower, he hadn’t thought of what he’d wake up to, if he would even wake at all. He had done what he was destined to, and had played his part. But there is simply no rest for the wicked, and there is much and more for him to do.
Finding a way to undo that Calamity happens to be one of them. As impossible of a feat as that seems to be.
A gust of wind blows in his direction, pushing several papers away from the pile on his lap and onto the ground.
It continues blowing against him, with no less remorse as G’raha rushes to pick the papers up. The thunder beginning to roll in advises him to turn in for the night soon before any rain follows.
But one of the papers that have landed among the stones catches his eye.
A portrait, he finds, different from the journal entries and documents he’s been digging through all night.
He may not be particularly knowledgeable in the arts, but he can tell that the piece was made in charcoal, judging from the smudges of black now on his hands.
And though the drawing is slightly faded, age has not completely erased the incredible detail the artist has put into it. There was a delicate care that was put into each and every stroke, as if the person who drew the piece was desperately trying to capture a memory he could not afford to forget. If only G’raha had spent some time training in the arts rather than pouring all his focus into his books, then mayhap he could have captured a few memories himself.
But he didn’t grab the page to wallow in regret.
A miqo’te woman stares back at him from the drawing, intensity in one shadowed gaze. Where her other eye would remain covered by an eyepatch, while dark hair falls wildly on her pale shoulders.
Perhaps if the sketch were done in color, he might take a guess at who this mysterious woman could be.
A soldier? A hero?
The intensity in her gaze tells as much, but G’raha senses a weariness from the woman in the picture as well, as if she’s fighting back at a world who’s put such a weight on her shoulders.
What could have burdened her so?
Perhaps the Calamity, but G’raha gets the feeling that there’s more to it than that. And though it is inapt for a scholar to make assumptions with no solid evidence to back it up, tis just what he thinks is the truth.
He’s reminded of the last person he saw before he sealed himself in the Tower— the look she gave him when she finally realized that there was nothing she could do to stop him. He saw a weight there that he had not noticed before, as if his loss would not be the first she’s experienced—
No, it can’t be.
He’s gone through every document the Ironworks had that could give him insight on the life she’s lived since he slept.
Twas the first thing he did when he discovered when he woke, and her inevitable end before then.
He pushes down the bitter taste that’s made its way to the back of his throat.
Despite the woman in the painting not being her, he still gets the urge to learn more of her…to learn what ails her, and to do what he was never able to do when he was far too absorbed in finding the truth of his lineage instead of helping the friend who needed him the most.
Share her burdens.
“Hey new blood, looking through that pile again—Oh, what’s this?”
G’raha was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized the Ironworks crew member who had slipped behind him.
What was his name again….Jesse, right?
“Twelve preserve, I thought I lost that one!” The hyur exclaims, “I’ve been looking for it for for weeks! Thought we lost it on our way back from Ishgard, but by some miracle it now lies in your hands.”
“What is it?” asks G’raha, now even more curious about the drawing.
Jesse beams. “Believe it or not, twas a sketch made by one Alphinaud Leveilleur of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. A royal pain in the arse that one was to get a hold of…had to pay a whole week’s ration for it. And stave off a whole hoard of hippogryphs on my way back to camp—oh, but don’t tell the chief about that!”
G’raha’s eyes widen. The Alphinaud Leveilleur? Who started the Crystal Braves and traveled so closely to Panne—
If that’s the case, then that means…
“Would you look at that—looks like there’s some writing there I hadn’t noticed till now. Can you read that?”
G’raha scans the page once again, finding the source of Jesse’s observation near the bottom of the sketch.
The charcoal there is smudged, but if he looks closely he can read something there:
Granini Die Limo: DieLimonati Eiswürfel-Form geschenkt
Neue #Gratis-Beigabe: Granini Die Limo: DieLimonati Eiswürfel-Form geschenkt - #Hamsterrausch
Wer spricht da noch von den Illuminaten, diesem geheimen Zirkel? Bei Granini Die Limo sind DieLimonati angesagt! Um zu zeigen, dass die zuckerreduzierte Limonade genauso viel Spaß bringt wie die herkömmliche, ist die fiktive Untergrundorganisation “DieLimonati” allgegenwärtig. Zum Beispiel in Form von dreieckigen Eiswürfeln – den passenden Eiswürfel-Zubereiter gibt es aktuell im Supermarkt…
