FFXIVWrite 2025 Prompt: Meticulous
Prompt 12: Meticulous
Marius adjusted the instrument’s dials, his fingers brushing against the cold metal as the scan rippled across the screen. Shael’s recordings flickered in ghostly greens and sharp whites, Anchor’s data scrolled down the dark screen, lending an eerie light to his small but neat quarters.
Corruption had grown since last he checked—measurably, undeniably. He could almost picture Anchor the last time he was in the clinic, his body taut and strained against something that gnawed at him from within. The data suggested an ebb and flow, the energy rising like a tide triggered by stress or overload: sudden flare-ups of activity, energy burning bright enough to sear pathways through flesh and bone. And then the collapse—calm settling in, leaving only a residue behind. Not gone, never gone. Just settling deeper and wider.
Marius leaned back, the glow of the readout painting harsh shadows across his face. One screen dimmed, another came alive, this one tied to the Garlean scientific database. Theirs was a labyrinth of protocols and walls meant to keep prying minds out. He had learned to weave through those walls, to carve paths where no door had been intended. Obstacles? Always. But obstacles sharpened him.
When the last barrier fell and the data streamed into his drive, he permitted himself a thin smile. That smile vanished as quickly as it came. To enter was one thing. To erase the trail—that was survival. His hands moved in practiced rhythm, peeling back his footprints, smoothing the ground. Until he stumbled upon another set.
Faint. Precise. And not supposed to be there.
Someone else had been here, following the same forbidden veins of knowledge, masking themselves with a hand as careful as his own. The discovery sent a tightness through his chest. They had come before him—or alongside. He could not tell. And just as he began tugging at the strands of their trail, the path dissolved, leaving nothing but silence.
Did they see me, as I saw them? he wondered, pulse quickening. Did they catch a glimpse of my hand before I closed the door?
The alarm shattered the thought. Familiar, shrill, insistent.
Marius shut everything down, screens blinking out one by one. He slipped the receiver into its place beneath the loose board, settling the rug and chair overtop with practiced ease. To anyone else, the room was unremarkable. To him, it was a battlefield abandoned in haste.
Drawing in a breath, he straightened his uniform and stepped into the corridor. Another shift awaited, another mask to wear. But in the back of his mind, one question remained: who else was interested in Garlemald’s research on corruption?