Prompt #28 - On the Nature & Function of Aetherytes
FFXIV Write 2019 - Prompt 28 /Entry 27 - Attune
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Attune - the definition doesn’t matter, I thought of aetherytes. Featuring wild headcanons on aetherytes via conversation as Cid struggles to get an Eorzean to explain what the hell teleporting is and how it works. Tessellation AU (in which I blend Norvrandt things into the ‘Source’ on account of being disappointed that Norvrandt is separate from Eorzea)
“You just hold up your hand and ... feel the aetheryte?”
“Yes.”
Cid looked skeptical. Suzune looked ready to chuck a book at his head.
“No,” Azusa the Raen Au Ra said, earning a gasp from her friend. “An aether-manipulating person has to actively feel for the aether - most people know the basics of it; it’s not really something we have to think about it seeing as basic charms are apart of our everyday lives.”
“Everyone has aether - even Garleans.” Suzune said. “Though I don’t know ... maybe yer people are cursed or something and can’t use it - “
“That is the prevailing theory...” Cid admitted, remembering the tales people told of his former people.
“ - but aetherytes aren’t that complex.”
Cid snorted.
“To you maybe. I find it hard to grasp that you dissolve into aetherial particles and come out fine on the other end. Yes, Yes - I know you’ve been doing it for hundreds maybe thousands of years - I just want to understand the mechanics of it before you experiment on me!”
“I just want your blood.”
“I may be Garlean but I know what can be done with blood!”
“Wha - Do you wanna teleport or not?”
“But if Cid - a known Garlean can teleport - what’s to stop the Fourteenth from getting wind of his sudden aetherial ability and trying to take advantage?” Azusa argued. “Using conscripts to attempt to teleport has been done on the continent; if actual Garleans can do it - “
“The continent she says like Eorzea isn’t one.”
“Ilsabard! You know what I mean. And it isn’t - Aldenard is the continent - “
“He can wear a glamour.” Suzune interrupted.
“Glamours don’t stick to them. You’re just making it more complicated.”
“I don’t need to teleport, thank you.” Cid waved his hands. “Plenty of Eorzeans lack the anima - “
“Most adult Eorzeans can teleport at least twice or thrice a day.” Suzune countered. “But... no, you’re not ostracized for not being able to. You can’t teleport goods for instance.”
“Eorzean children can’t teleport?”
“Technically, yes but zero people want a child to get lost in the lifestream. They can teleport side-along with anima tether - loads of parents are capable of that ‘cause naturally their aether is attuned to their child’s - even if they’re not blood related as long as they’re familiar with each other though there’s spells and charms to anchor it. Which is why I wanted to - “
“I have an airship. Tell me more about the aetherytes. Didn’t the Calamity damage them?”
“Yes! First, they had that huge battle over Silvertear Lake - “
“The what now?” Azusa, also a foreigner, asked.
“Silvertear Lake! It’s in Mor Dhona, heartland of Eorzea, where there’s - were a bunch of temples to Nymeia and Althyk. Anyway, Silvertear is the nexus but when Crystarem and Garlemald had a huge battle, dragons of all things interceded and nonsense happened - “
“Nonsense? By Eorzean standards, what is nonsense?”
Crystarem was the oldest of the current city-states and the most advanced; Garlemald had coveted their Allagan relics and lore and were shown the firing end of a crystal cannon for their audacity.
“That’s not important. The point, thanks to the Battle of Silvertear Skies, they damaged the lake and the aetherial nexus which was bad enough and spawned this lunatic cult - “
“The Lambs of Dalamud? The ones who were hunting the Path of the Twelve?”
“Yes; they are our sworn enemies apparently - do you, or do you not want to talk about aetherytes?” Suzune demanded, interrupting herself.
“Go on.”
"So, ten years later, Garleans started mucking around as per usual with the moon, the aether became even more unstable and the aetherytes collapsed, allowing passage into our world.”
“Passage into our world? Of the primals?”
“No, that happened earlier. Voidsent. Voidsent corrupted the aetherytes and came through and the aetheryte network collapsed and the gates vanished. Were you not there?”
“I wasn’t aware of the extent of the crisis...by the way, you’re a terrible lecturer.” Cid complained.
She waved off his criticism. “This is why I am not a teacher.”
“I can see that. This history is all very fascinating but what’s the mechanics of it.”
“I’m not an aethersmith - yes, there’s a profession for it, you think we let any crafter manage aetherytes? Crystarem is the best at it, Sharlayan’s second to them but those driftwoods swiving left. Crystarem is actually the oldest city - “
“Isn’t called the Crystarium?” Azusa asked.
Suzune flapped a hand. “Long.”
"So, if you’re not an aethersmith, why do you know so much about it? Or do you not?”
“I do! Arcanists are Lominsa’s leading body of mages and traditional aetherometry - arcane geometries, don’t look at me like that - I mean, there are pockets of others mages like conjurers of the ocean style - “
“I’ve studied with them.” Azusa agreed.
“Arcanists,” Cid interrupted before she could veer off on another tangent.
“The Aetheryte is like another Pharos,” Suzune explained. “and its a Pharos that can pull people to it, even when they’re unconscious. Maintaining the city’s aetheryte and its connection with other aetherytes is vital to the city - not just for traveling but because it provides additional wards as well as a messaging and warning audio system and gives off a radiation that prevents any random beast from wandering in. Like confused sea monsters.”
More than one confused sea monster clinging to an incoming ship had been sharply stun and driven off at the harbor gates by the same wards.
“Wait, audio?”
“Yes - like an authority can put their hand to it and instead of teleporting they project their voice through the aetherytes across the region. That’s like... in emergencies though. How’s that radio coming along?”
“Quickly.”
“Great! Further, the aetheryte’s rings provide additional wards against unwanted teleportations like visitors from the void and as arcanists who’s entire business is determining the underpinnings of reality not just ripping out fireballs or hurtling obsidian chunks willy-nilly part of your - uh... I mean, part of the job is maintaining and protecting it from nutjobs who want to tamper with it - be out of malice or genuine and idiotic curiosity.”
“We’re not arcanists.” Cid reminded her.
“I know, I corrected myself! I have this argument with baby arcanists all the time. ‘Why are we learning about aethersmithing?’ 'Cause this is Arcanima Basics: How Arcanima Applies to Our Everyday Lives’ ‘what do you mean why are we - “
“I thought you weren’t a professor?”
“I guest lecture! People think that customs officers is the arcanists only calling; no that’s just, Mealvaan’s Gate where they congregated! There’s loads of other professions - “
“You were telling us about the effect the calamity had on the aetherial travel network.” Azusa interjected, glaring at Cid.
“Ah ha! Alright so - the pre-Dalamud Fall aetherytes were old and small, like so,” she traced something in the air, the pen glowing with her movements. “And they linked to a succession of aetherial gates - free-standing... rifts attached to a nearby aetheryte. You could not attune to an aetherial gate, it just took you back to the aetheryte. Useful for when chocobos were less common - thanks Ishgard.
But Garlemald’s fuckery with the moon and ancient magicks and nonsense further damaged the aetherial currents. The aetherytes were disrupted, the aetherial gates collapsed and voidsent started pushing through. So, it’s a good thing the gates collapsed ‘cause the Voidsent could have spawned anywhere otherwise.”
“And there’s still no aetherial gates today?”
“Nope. That’s why it’s important for adventurers to map things in our realm made a complete stranger.”
“Ah. That’s why you’re out here instead of terrorizing pirates in Limsa,”
“i’m here for many reasons.”
Cid sighed. “Is there a book on this?”
“What, is my explanation not good enough?”
“It is, it is! I just need to write it down.”
Suzune did not look convinced. “They’re restricted.”
He groaned.
A/N - It doesn’t make sense to me that people are like: ‘oh the average person doesn’t have that much anima to utilize the aetherytes’ since folks are so keen on having them. Also since aetheryte places are sanctuaries, I wondered if the aetheryte did other jobs beside just teleporting.
Attune - to bring into accord, harmony, or sympathetic relationship; adjust: | Archaic. to tune or bring into harmony, as a musical instrument.
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Palaver - a conference or discussion or long parley, to cajole or persuade
Featuring worldbuilding and headcanons on Limsa Lominsa
The Galadion Articles - the document preventing Limsa Lominsa from becoming awash in blood as rival factions scrambled for power. The Code was well known - the stripped down basic version of the Articles. Not every pirate or viking crew had the same principles but when one was upon Lominsan docks, lands and in her waters , if one claimed regular sanctuary in Lominsan waters one was under Parley. And if a person stained the white flag of truce, king, queen, or ambassador it mattered not - they would pay.
Moenskaet obeyed the articles, he had the crew, the ship, the reputation. He knew well what kind of chaos came from pirates not being beholden to or frightened of anything.
When his contact stepped on the deck, smiling with more teeth that would make anyone comfortable, even his loyalists looked unsettled.
“Anyone missing ale casks?”
With the crew distracted by the cask of ale from Dodozan, Moenskaet led the way to his quarters.
"Spacious,” Suzune commented, glancing around.
It was emptier than it had been, some of the more gaudy pieces gone but Moenskaet didn’t answer her implied question.
She shouldn’t have cut an intimidating figure in her wine red shirt - a style customary of Lominsa but more elegant, the sleeves rolled up to expose ... tattoos, paint? They shimmered faintly under the light and he shifted his gaze away
She had a partner this time too, a Hyuran man in a tunic held together by leather and rope and a blood red labyrs on his back.
"Suzune,” he said fondly, dispensing with the formalities as he accept the wine. “Decided to be discreet?”
“Well, no one wants Aisbraena kicking up more of a fuss.”
“I have something for you,” he said, seemingly abrupt, going to a chest. “The Astalicia’s mine and that’s not going to change any time soon but I need a favor. A personal one.”
“You wanna owe me a personal favor?” Her ghost pale eyes glinted in the lamp light and she considered this, absently scritching her opal carbuncle under the chin. Her other one snuffled about, ever curious. “When it’s for your whole ship?”
He winced. Not that he didn’t support Merlwyb but if he put the crew in direct debt to her council, there would be a mutiny.
“The crew likes you,” he said.
“The Astalicia’s not sea-worthy.” her companion said, a statement.
“He’s mine.” Suzune said when Moenskaet’s eyes flicked to that man.
He looked bored.
“It isn’t,” Moenskaet agreed, of the ship. “I plan to sail the Trident, Suzune but Aisbraena’ll not have that happen. I need a shipwright.”
“You want to owe my clan a favor.”
A chill crawled up his spine; for her all her good cheer, that look reminded him of a sea-ghoul just before grabbing her prey.
“You’ve good shipwrights.”
They whispered about her people - that ships never leaked, nor creaked, that the wind always seem to favor them, that the tides would pull short of dashing them against rocks.
If he didn’t sail the Trident, the vaunted reputation of the Bloody Executioners would diminish, Aisbraena and his faction would gain clout - the Astalicia was a significant weight of Moenskaet’s legitimacy and if she didn’t sail, even if she didn’t win ...
“I’ve a gift.” he said belatedly and she eagerly bounced over to it.
“You won’t regret this Moenskaet.” she promised, opening the chest. And he dearly hoped he wasn’t trading Merlwyb for a devil.
Slosh - to splash or move through water, mud, or slush / to splash (liquid) clumsily or haphazardly.
A short follow up to ‘Pharos Aetheryte’
...
Swish, swish, slosh, swish, slosh...
"Traditionally, we eat soup. Or drink it. You can pick up the bowl."
Ardbert's eyes flicked up from his bowl and his soup to the strange woman. He was not unfamiliar with Au Ra - there were several in Ostwaent, in the 'Yokai Docks', - Suzune's okaa-sensei was Au Ra.
"I'm not very hungry."
She pulled the bowl away from him. "Hey!"
"You said you weren't hungry." Azusa said.
"I'm eating it! Slowly."
She gave it back. "I can call Suzune - "
"I don't need to bother them every minute of the day. I can wait."
Azusa frowned. "They can get leave. Tehre's lots of injured veterans - you should known better than I what's in your articles."
Ardbert didn't respond picking up the bowl of soup and drinking deeply.
His aether was together - he was together and he felt more settled - aetherically anyway but jittery.
"I can wait." he said again, standing. "I'll go watch the tides."
"Alright."
He paused at the door. "I appreciate you doing this by the way. I just..."
"You're tired; don't give me what you need for yourself."
Unctuous - characterized by excessive piousness or moralistic fervor, especially in an affected manner; excessively smooth, suave, or smug. | of the nature of or characteristic of an unguent or ointment; oily; greasy.
....
"Don't touch that!" Suzune said automatically.
"My hands are over here." Hien said, waving them - indeed they were by his sides, no where near the work station they had set up in the House of the Fierce.
"What are you making exactly? It looks..." he peered into the bubbling pot, which she had been gifted from the Steppe. "Not food."
It looked nothing like food, obviously, alehcmical experiments were not to be confused with a food kitchen. An settling gelantious mixture that bubbled and popped. Some sort of enchantment looked to be keeping the smells from invading the rest of their quarters
"Of course not. This is gold auspic. Soroban told us about it - it smells awful. I am not entirely sure how many Domans are unwilling conscripted so I figured we just throw this on them."
"and... the smell will render them unable to fight?"
"Well, we will have to smack them a bit," she admitted. "But they'll live."
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Crunch - to crush or grind noisily | a shortage or reduction of something needed or wanted (such as time)
Tessellation AU - After the Calamity, Cid’s ship was blown into Abalathia’s Spine. Fortunately, he befriends the locals. Unfortunately, the Garleans are very interested in what else fell in Abalathia’s Spine...
...
Castrum Anteanus is a hole in the ground - a castrum ringing this hole going ever downward - to a scaffolding surrounding what looks like the head of a statue - made of machinery and metal. The stone remnants of a trade outpost is visible along the hill and someone growls.
the Ultima Weapon. They call it.
“We’re pressed for time so let’s not waste it.” Cid Ferrant - formerly ‘nan Garlond’ works swiftly, setting up the kit. They’ve found a good spot, out of sight. They’ve not overtly attacked for moons, letting the enemy believe they had given it up and they’ve picked a time when the guards are less alert, the commander one of the lesser ones. But the Fourteenth will get what it came for and come after them with Juggernauts and dogs. Best do this quickly.
“Agreed,” Iselde says and drops down into the base. To the catwalk. Over five hundred yalms, turning and twisting in the air. She lands as if it were five ilms and lifts her hands expectantly.
Cid grumbles. Eorzeans and their ridiculous physics ignoring acrobatics.
He drops the kit down to her; she may be ridiculously tall and willow but her complex - a dusky, grey characteristic of Duskwight Elezen - lends easily to her stealth abilities and she melts into the shadows of the castrum.
The Imperials are quite aware that the Abalathi object strenuously to their digs. The pieces of Dalamud are scattered across Abalathia - probably Eorzea too.
Efforts to destroy Ultima Weapon they’re digging up, to slow them down or stop them has proven futile and too fraught with risk, with death. Better to live then. To get evidence, to warn the nations of Eorzea. Garlemald is not done with them, not done trying to supplement their armies, to get resources, not done trying to crush their culture into the group.
“Alright. I’ve done what I need to do.” Cid says unplugging his own equipment and resigns himself when the Valkyrie grabs his harness. A single Valkyrie is harder to spot than the birds, even though at this point he would prefer riding a bird, any bird even those angry Anzu.
“To your ship then?”
“Yes, it’s - “ he swallows his words as he fells the warning thrum of aether - he will never, ever be able to wield it but after being around so many aether-wielders for so long, he could feel it, slightly.
“Brace yourself.” she directs and has the courtesy to wait five seconds before she jumps.
Yeah there’s an order of Valkyries in Abalathia’s Spine - actually there’s at least three. Anteanus - Garlataen (aka real world Vulgar Latin) - ‘from before’
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To Split or Cut in Two
Guilds have a long storied history in Eorzea, centers of gathering for people of a specific study to protect their craft and study secrets. Except in Ishgard. and Limsa Lominsa. And - (okay maybe not).
Basically, Limsa Lominsa didn't have any guilds - or rather nothing like Ul'dah's or Gridania's so when Merlwyb asserted her dominion over Limsa Lominsa in the Trident she took a good hard look at her city and decide while freedom was all well and good, everyone needed a current or route to follow.
And so she declared that the Arcanists would formally make a guild.
There was just one small problem, a mistake she made in her eagerness.
"Admiral, to codify arcanima surely you must recognize that these charlatans -"
"... the idea you can't code a water carbuncle in a city surrounded by water is pathetic and hilarious.”
"If I hear one more word about how Nasri is a hoax, I will lose my shit."
“Um...how did you do the - “
“Oh! Alright, look at this - no, not you! Her!”
"You're telling me you lot decided to create new plagues instead of something helpful like a new ward on how to prevent food from spoiling?"
Putting a number of arcanists in the room at the same time.
There was no leader, what else what she supposed to do?
The cacophony of arguments reverberated in the hall; the most senior research and mentor of the Gate, K'rhid was of no help at all instead in imminent danger of testing arcanima magicks in the middle of a crowded against a Cieldalaen arcanist
Merlwyb pinched her nose. sighed and drew her musket.
The rapid five bullet salute got silence immediately.
"Solution," she said, gun still in the air, smoking. "The Cieldalaes Arcanists will continue as usual with the 6th Squadron and be incorporated as military arcanists."
Someone raised their hand.
"Yes, that means I will not be taking any Gate arcanists to the battlefield in the future.”
To her great relief both the Gate and Megalodon - 6th Squadron was formerly a Barracuda division and they deserved the nickname - arcanists seemed pretty cheered by this but then the Megalodon arcanists spent a lot of time at sea magicking cannons and warping reality.
"However. I do expect cooperation. How do you expect your great magicks to go down in history if they're indecipherable, hidden away into encoded journal only your apprentice who may die at sea has access to? Further, why aren't there more water carbuncles?" she scratched Nasri's chin and regretted her question when a cacophony of replies arose like a school of screaming dolphins.
"It's an aquamarine and if you try to touch my notes again, I will pull your spine through your mouth!"
Yup. They were Lominsan alright.
The meeting descended into academic sniping again - they were worse than pirates - and Merlwyb reached for a goblet.
Now, to find someone reasonable to be spokesperson in this mess.
A/N - Since I headcanon my character, Suzune, as an arcanist and a Maelstrom officer, a whole ‘military arcanist’ division popped up in my headcanons. I guess technically Arcanists could be grouped into three basic groups - the Customs Agents, the Researchers and the Militant Mages (but the agents and researchers are together in Mealvaan’s Gate)
.FFXIV Write 2019 - Entry 17 (Prompt - Wilt) - to become limp and drooping, as a fading flower; wither | to loose strength and vigor
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A good mariner sails with the tides and with the wind. Applying that knowledge outside of sailing, however is more difficult for some crews than others.
When a soldier returned home, (in the best cases) family would greet them with joy, with relief. They would be cautious, but stumble, helping them recover, acclimate to their life. They would caution their returned member to take a more peaceful endeavor. Something like fishing, baking, helping around the house, greeting their old neighbors.
In the seventh week, Ardbert led a small team of fishers armed with harpoons in successfully killing a swarm of banshees that came with the storm in yet another.
Before that, a swarm of megalocrabs terrorize the cove where they laid their lines and Ardbert drove them off by borrowing someone’s axe and splitting the shells of several. There was a wealth of crab meat to go around.
And before that, he spent most of the fishing trip in the water, pushing people back into boats whenever the now hostile waves conspired to drown them.
“Hi! Your ma and da tell me you’re bored!”
Ardbert paused in motion, startled to see Suzune craning through the doorway.
“Bells!” his mother greeted. “Thank goodness; you two can help me get this latest batch to the shop and then you two can go to the garrison, how does that sound?”
“What am I being conscripted into?” Ardbert drawled.
“No one is conscripting you Ard,” his mother rolled her eyes. Maeve the Bakster was a stout woman with strong arms characteristic of one who kneed dough, rolled barrels and was generally active in her daily life. “Your father just keeps telling me how you do everything but fishing.”
“I’m sure everyone would prefer to be dragged into the depths by nightmare aurelie,”
“The Shiranui!”
“We can all agree that they’re evil spirits returned as wave-ashkin.” Maeve said briskly.
“Maeve, I got the - oh hi, Suzie.” A neighborhood woman chose that inopportune moment to make her appearance and Suzune’s good mood vanished.
“That’s not my name.”
“Suzuchen, why not come with me out back,” Ardbert hastily intervened before they could rehash how ‘Suzanne’ was not and was never Suzune’s name and who was and was not allowed to call her ‘Suzie’ in their town.
...
Fortunately, Suzune was content to forget about that individual. Ardbert could not seay he hadn’t enjoyed being at home and relished in his parent’s adn family’s attention. He didn’t feel stifled by any means, he just felt fine.
“If you feel fine, there’s no need to keep listening to Maelstrom doctor orders.”
“It was mostly aether... shock. Or something.”
“From being in the Lifestream?”
“Something like that. Re-attuning... settles me.”
“Makes sense. You up for teleporting to Ankadorpf?”
“Sure.”
Ostwaent - where they lived - was one of two large ports on the largest Cieldalaen island of Zweitlaent, being on the northern end with several fishing and inland villages in between it and Ankadorpf, which was home to the Maelstrom Garrison.
Not having a confirmed job meant that Suzune just roped him into being her assistant.
“You have this list like I’m suppose to know what it means,”
“That’s charting the waxing and waning strength of the various crews. Like, the Dread Three - the Kraken’s Arms are at the top, Sanguine Sirens are behind them and Bloody Executioners are on the bottom on account of unity issues but Moenskaet’s crew on the Astalicia really need to start being intimidating or upstarts like Aisbraena are going to cause problems for everyone.”
“Tracking pirate nonsense sounds hard, Especially with the Trident. Who thought that was a good idea, again?”
“If they don’t do it, people will try to change power in a violent uprising and I don’t want live the Twenty-Eight years of Blood.”
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OC: Sorkhaghtani ‘Sorkha' Nhaamiq
Features some headcanons - Dalamud is called Daragabu in Japanese so I figured it would be cool if the in-game Far East called it that. So, the Dalamiq are Daramiq instead and the remnants of the clan changed their name ‘cause they got fucked over by it. (I always wondered about what happened to them so I am headcanoning an answer.)
...
Sorkha hadn't been in an imperial installation since the Red Moon Campaigns and for good reason. Creeping closer towards Castrum Occidens, the Xaela Au Ra felt her brown skin form goosebumps and her dark black scales pop and thicken even more. She took another steadying breath, the ruby caracal brushing against her leg in a comforting warmth.
"We get in, take a look around, get out," she said; her wolf wuffed in agreement. Cloaking herself, they slipped inside, like two ghosts.
The metal walls around her felt constricting; she felt as if her very aether was coiling away - but that was nonsense. There were no such things here. She rubbed her throat and took a deep breath.
"We'll just take a look around."
Something itched at the back of her mind, calling to her and she needed to settle what it was.
The imperial aircraft hummed through the skies, uncloaked, like they ruled Eorzea already. Her lip curled.
"Baelsar... no one from the Seventh..."
She knew of them of course - Livia sas Junius, Nero tol Scaeva and Rhitatyn sas Arvina.
"So, he's getting his own fortress huh..." High achievement for a blood traitor and conscripted savage...
Still, most of the garrison was pre-occupied with attending to the Legatus, his ship and his officers. Soundlessly, Sorkha and her caracal slipped around the edges of the gathering towards the far end of the compound.
The prickle of aether was overwhelming and the pair of magitek vanguards flanking the entrance a sufficient deterrent, for the moment. Lance-wielding guards were everywhere as well and her scales felt too thicky and itchy, her aether a buzz. Sorkha clamped down tight on her jitters.
They knew something big was down there. Judging by the corruptive crystal moon shards they had built the fortress around. Something whispered in her mind.
She backpedaled. slipping back to safer territory. The demand, the buzzing hum subsidied as she prayed - prayed to Eorzea, prayed to La Noscea, to her living family. The Daramiq had paid a high price merely for their beliefs and the White Raven had taken notice.
Not a soul in the world didn’t take notice of the Garlean Empire throwing an entire moon at a nation; she was sure.
Her summoned familiar crooned a question, nudging her away and they slipped out as fast as they could.
“He said clean up the mess,”
Sorkha froze, almost certain they had been caught out but... no. Two soldiers were moving a body.
“Just dump with the trash.” they looked uncomfortable with the idea, by their body language but they lifted the corpse and hustled out.
The aether... it was not yet faded.
Her caracal nudged her leg. An Eorzean spy!
“Well, this isn't a total waste.” Sorkha said. “Let’s go fetch him back. then.”
