#oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #10: [INDIGO ABRASAX]

Prompt: reactivation (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: This idea originated before the 6.4 PLL that announced Certain Specific Scholar Updates. Yoshi-P, I demand royalties along with the use of my twenty-year old internet handle as the abbreviation for your new expansion.

--

Synnove stared down at the soulstone on her desk; the dark blue stone was cut in such a way that what little light refracted through it drew the eye to the Scholar’s bespectacled emblem carved into its surface. She poked at it gently and the sonorous bzzz of unaspected aether brushed against her mind. Soulstones didn’t usually have unaspected aether unless they were blank, waiting for memory and experience to fill them.

This one was weird.

“This one is weird,” she said aloud. “Not that I don’t mind a mystery, but Surito is sending this along because…?”

“It’s something about the fairy,” Halulu said. “This one is from the most recent cache of soulstones the recovery teams have located in the Palace, and it’s the only one Surito can’t place to its original owner at the time of Nym’s fall. All the others, if he couldn’t recognize the aetherial signature, the fairy within responded at least long enough to identify herself and her Scholar.”

“But this one stayed silent,” Mhaslona said, not a question after Halulu’s explanation. Synnove’s old advisor lounged in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, turned to the side to allow her to stretch her prosthetic leg out.

Halulu nodded and said, “And since Synnove is Eorzea’s resident strange summons expert…”

“You rewrite the laws of aetherology once and everyone expects you to walk on water,” Synnove grumbled without any heat. Halulu and Mhaslona both snickered at her. “All right, I’ll see if she’ll say hello to me.”

She pushed back from her desk and stood, picking up the soulstone in the same motion, and walked to the center of her office. Those first summonings of Tyr and Ivar had taught her never summon a damn thing near her desk ever again. The Gate quartermaster would likely refuse her requisition for another ironwood desk, especially one that would need hauling all the way up the northeast tower.

Synnove cupped her hands together, the left under the right, with the soulstone nestled in the center of her palm. She allowed her eyes to unfocus as she reached out with her aether to nudge the soulstone. In her mind, it hummed acknowledgment, but did nothing else.

The logic for a fairy wasn’t one with which she was intimately familiar, but her perfect memory could recall it regardless and Synnove held it in her mind as she drew on her aether—and frowned.

The soulstone refused to respond.

Only faintly conscious of her head tilting in puzzlement, Synnove mentally prodded at the soulstone again. Scholar soulstones were locked with the fairy logic; summon the fairy and the bearer could begin to attune to the soulstone. And it wasn’t a mystery lock, either, the logic was practically writ into the soulstone’s aether, one just needed to ‘fill’ it and—

—unless it wasn’t a fairy.

Synnove mentally threw out the fairy logic and plunged into the heady waters of the soulstone. Yes, there was the most basic of geometries used in summoning at its heart, pulsing and strong, but the way it branched out into the greater logic didn’t match the ones Scholars used for their fairies. She followed the equations and lines spiraling out from the core, mentally tracing out the shape of the summon that guarded the soulstone’s heart.

…This was familiar.

This was very, very familiar.

Without intention, without even having finished tracing this not very Scholarly logic because it wasn’t a logic at all, it was an array, Synnove filled in the blanks, and aether sang out in her office.

Synnove looked down.

A bright blue carbuncle blinked up at her.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a sound not unlike that of an Allagan node—though oddly feminine in its neutrality—rang out in her mind.

[>>776SKK900NLS0000 GLORIOUS DAWN NRM-COM/IPMA: ASSETS//CORE//IMPERATIVE IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER Tactical morality reset from EMERALD EXIGENT. SECURITY STATE is ADAMANTOISE. LUCIFERON is INACTIVE and MIDNIGHT. Primary command structure defragment commence on mark. Evocation matrix INDIGO ABRASAX reactivation success. Format moral structures for KYRIA TRACE. STOP STOP STOP 776SKK900NLS0000]

With the way Mhaslona and Halulu were excitedly chattering behind her, Synnove knew she was the only one who had heard that. She suspected she wasn’t supposed to have heard that.

And then the carbuncle opened her mouth, and in the same voice said:

[Greetings, New User! I am the Intelligent Personal Obligant and Medical Operative for Emergency Applications! You may call me Ipomoea for convenience. Please specify the nature of your emergency for prompt service.]

Dead silence in her office.

“Um,” Synnove said intelligently.

“Is,” Halulu whispered, “is she talking? As in, open mouth, sound comes out talking?”

“More like an orchestrion rather than talking,” Mhaslona said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t like that. Not one bit.”

--

“So,” Synnove said, filling the final shot glass with whiskey and keeping it for herself, “best I can tell, the soulstone was carved from a carbuncle-quality focus gem.”

Surito Carito, Setoto Seto, and Alka Zolka were huddled around her desk with herself, Halulu, and Mhaslona, each with a shot glass in front of them. The bottle of Synnove’s best whiskey was not as full as it had been half a bell ago.

Surito sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “I remember her,” he said. “Her summoner—though perhaps better to say her programmer—was the college’s Allag expert, Vatete Vate. And carbuncles weren’t a popular choice for familiars; fairy logic was the preference, since it wasn’t reliant on gemstones infused with living aether.”

“We were isolated from most of Aldenard because of Mhach and Amdapor’s warring over the centuries,” Setoto said, shaking her head. “By the time of the War of the Magi, we hadn’t had a reliable gemstone trade in generations, it was why the fairy logic was developed at all.”

Mhaslona sucked on her teeth. “Where the fuck did Vatete even get the Allag tech? Based on what Synnove heard, it sounds like she reverse-engineered one of their command nodes into a carbuncle array.”

The two tonberries and one former tonberry all shrugged.

“Best we can do at the moment is ask around the Palace,” Surito said, raising his whiskey glass to sip from it. “Vatete isn’t among the tonberries, and she kept to herself much of the time, but she’d ramble to anyone who showed a lick of interest, so it’s possible, though not probable, that she may have let slip something without either she or her audience realizing the import.”

Synnove rested her cheek on her fist and sighed, then said over her shoulder, “How’s that database update coming along, honey?”

[Azys Lla terminal connection is sporadic, update is only seventeen percent complete.] Ipomeoa had, thankfully, switched to an aetheric harmonic upon request, although it still sounded vaguely artificial. [Prioritization algorithms are still sorting data. WORLD STATE: HYDAELYN set to UNBOUND.]

“…I don’t want to know what that means,” Alka Zolka said wearily. “I don’t think I have the clearance to know what that means.”

“You do now,” Synnove grumbled, and tossed back her whiskey in one gulp.

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#ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: halulu halu #oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn #surito carito #setoto seto #alka zolka #synnove's carbuncles #dt's writing #i need the mental equivalent of a beer and a cigarette after writing this

[dragons-bones]

#FebHyurary 2022 Day 16: Guide

Well, who did you think taught Synnove how to properly appreciate A Nice Big Boom?

#febhyurary #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #hyur #hyur highlander #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn #dt's screenshots #dt's witchcraft and sorcery #special thanks to jai for helping out by being my mhaslona!

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #4: Storm-Salt

Prompt: baleful || Master Post || On AO3

It’s time for that good ol’ FFXIV Write tradition of raising Synnove’s blood pressure with INCANDESCENT RAGE. :D

--

Mhaslona Fhilfhiswyn had just sat down at her desk and removed her prosthetic leg with a relieved grimace (a shame, the Naldiq & Vymelli craftspeople did fine work, but the weight of this new one was too much, and perhaps it was time to browbeat them into letting go of their pride and partnering with the Ironworks to explore some new alloys or building materials) when a chill went down her spine. She sat up slowly, placing her hands palm down on her desk, fingers splayed, eyes darting about. A glance out the window showed the same sunny weather of a late spring day it had been half a bell ago when she’d taken the long climb up the southwest tower to her office from the main hall of Mealvaan’s Gate.

What in the Seven swiving Hells?

That chill transformed, suddenly, into a pressure on her chest, for one wild, awful moment, Mhaslona thought she was about to have a heart attack, until the scent of ambergris and dead kelp and storming sea unfurled in her nose and coated the back of her tongue. Not a heart attack, then, but an emotional resonance so powerful it was warping the nearby ambient aether into a sympathetic harmony.

This was a rage so deep, so all-encompassing, it was wonder it could be contained in a mortal shell. Just who was so damned angry?

The storm-salt taste was intensifying, and Mhaslona shook her head with a sigh. She was about to find out, wasn’t she?

Three knocks came at her door: BANG. BANG. BANG. Every shelf rattled, and so did her teeth.

“Enter!” she called out.

The door slammed into the wall with the force by which it was thrown open, and Synnove strode inside, a near living avatar of the Fury—or perhaps the Destroyer, with how the aether around her seemed to spark and crackle. Galette hung from her shoulder, chittering non-stop in a poor attempt to calm her person down, and Tyr slunk in behind her, tails lashing. Even Synnove’s hair seemed to be bristling, her knee-length braid whipping in such a way that it was clear the force of her rage was disturbing what little wind aether was about, too.

Mhaslona rubbed her nose. “What’s got you in a tiff, girlie?” she said. “I’ve got so much salt and ambergris in my nose I’ll be lucky to taste dinner tonight.”

Without a word, her (favorite) former student stopped right in front of her desk, and dropped an open journal onto her desk. The Sea Wolf obliging leaned forward.

On the Aetherodynamic Properties of Infusing Gemstones with Living Aether, by Bahram Zarir.

Mhaslona rocked back in her chair, eyes wide. She looked up at Synnove.

The Highlander’s green eyes were definitely glowing, and her wordless snarl shook the room. Galette sighed, and dropped down from Synnove’s shoulder, giving up in favor of flopping dramatically across Mhaslona’s desk. Tyr propped his chin on the desktop and sighed, his heavy breath ruffling his older sister’s ears.

Hesitantly, the Sea Wolf reached out and grasped the left-hand side of the journal, almost closing it so that she could check the names and date of it.

The Journal of Theoretical and Applied Arcanima College of Mathematics – Department of Arcanima The University of Radz-at-Han Second Year 7UE Volume 65, Issue 1

She laid the journal out flat again.

Synnove had published her master’s thesis only a few moons before Dalamud fell. And this was not the reaction of a woman to a mere rebuttal article.

Mhaslona did not bother to read the article in full, merely skimming it, but she didn’t need to. And she didn’t need to get her copy of the Guild journal in which Synnove’s thesis was published to compare and contrast. She had been Synnove’s advisor; she knew these words on this page. Words that weren’t quoted, or attributed.

She aged another ten damn years when she flipped to the end of the article to check the full bibliography, and did not see her student’s name among the credits.

With a heavy sigh, she closed the journal and sat back in her chair, meeting Synnove’s gaze again. The other woman spat out something deeply unflattering in Ala Mhigan about Zarir’s maternal line—Mhaslona’s grasp of Ala Mhigan was just enough to know that was the kind of insult which began blood feuds—and snarled again. Aether sparked, little levinbolts shivering along the green-and-brown strands of Synnove’s hair, and the salt-smell in Mhaslona’s nose was so strong she wanted to gag.

Mhaslona vaguely recalled the name of this little shit; he had studied at the Guild some years ago, working on both applied mathematics and theoretical aetherophysics. Smarmy and self-important, and lazy; he had done the bare minimum to pass the Guild’s requirements for one of their degrees. But something like this brought all the work he had done into sharp focus and a serious questioning of what had been actual original work.

But more than indignation and horror, Mhaslona was furious. Synnove had worked her arse off the whole of her masterwork year, researching and perfecting her equations, agonizing over the placement of every symbol. And she was just a few sennights shy of actually beginning to put her theories and beautiful mathematics to the test, with a shipment of rubies purchased with her carefully hoarded grant money. The amount of work and tears her student had put into this project over the past three years was enormous, and this little Hannish quisby wanted to step in on that?

She pushed back her chair, looking for her cane, and allowed herself a soft smile at the sight of Tyr holding it out to her, tails wagging. She gave him a pat on the head—her student’s topaz boy was a good lad—and accepted her cane, leaning on it as she pushed herself upright. She could hobble faster on this polished piece of driftwood than on that blasted new prosthetic.

“All right,” Mhaslona said, “let’s go raise hell.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn #oc: synnove greywolfe #dt's writing

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #3: Red Sky in the Morning

Prompt: muster | Master Post | On AO3

Oh, look, it only took until day three this year. :3 This one formalizes some headcanons I have about the Arcanists’ Guild and is also a prequel to previous years’ fills: “The First Day” (FFXIV Write 2018) and “Suffer, Promise, Witness” (FFXIV Write 2019).

--

The main lecture hall at Mealvaan’s Gate was only half full, but those who sat in its seat were the senior members of the Arcanists’ Guild: graduated students, masters and doctoral students, professors, and the assessors and agents of the customs house itself. No apprentices and no one under the age of eighteen in the case of those savant-like graduates was allowed in the hall, although none of the staff doubted half the apprentice corps had their ears pressed up against the doors trying to overhear something. But the snooping of the baby arcanists aside, this was the business for adults.

Normally, the Guild’s primary auditorium was filled with golden sunshine, the bright blue sky visible from any of the windows. But today, as it had been for too long now, the skies were darkly overcast, no open sky unless one sailed west for three days out into the Indigo Deep, and the light was thin and watery—and tinged red.

Dalamud sank ever lower in the sky.

Synnove rubbed her temples, a fresh headache forming behind her eyes. The Admiral and Maelstrom would be departing for the Carteneau Flats within a sennight, and the Guild had been arguing for four bells now on how best to proceed. A battalion of infantry from the Knights of the Barracuda would be staying in Limsa Lominsa to maintain order, but most of the arcanists were of the opinion that there was something else the Guild could be doing to assist their home. As always happened when too many arcanists got together to share opinions, however, shouting broke out and petty grievances took over.

Academics were a bull-headed lot.

“Joining the van would be idiotic,” Mhaslona snarled, hands on her hips as she stared down Bontensont of the aetherochemistry department. Synnove bit back a groan, unbelieving that the argument had circled back around to this topic for the third damned time, even as her former mentor continued: “Not a single arcanist here has any combat training beyond small unit tactics, on top of which those small unit tactics have been designed for the close quarters of cargo holds. We’re a liability on an open battlefield and more likely to be underfoot of soldiers, none of whom are likely to be familiar with our magicks.”

“Just because you’re too much the coward—”

“Sit DOWN, Bontensont!” Thubyrgeim roared, finally losing her temper.

The elezen, having gone white as soon as the last word of his had left his mouth, immediately dropped his seat and ducked his head under the furious glares of both Mhaslona and the acting guildmistress.

Synnove didn’t envy Thubyrgeim in the least. The woman was only four years older than her, but her level head and grasp of bureaucracy, on top of her mastery of arcanima, and gotten her promoted to assistant guildmistress last year when K’rhid Tia finally bothered to swan into the city for the first time since Synnove had even joined the Guild. While she had more than proven herself able to manage the diverse personalities that populated the Guild, most of whom were decades older than herself, not even Thubyrgeim was without her temper. Synnove was impressed she had managed to last this long without snapping.

Their guildmistress-in-fact glared around the hall at her arcanists from her place at the podium. Someone had brought her a chair, but she had remained standing the entire time as she had valiantly moderated this debacle of a discussion.

“We have gotten nowhere productive these past few bells,” Thubyrgeim said icily, “save to repeat the same points over and over. Mhaslona is correct in that none of us have the proper training to stand shoulder to shoulder with either the Knights of the Barracuda, or even the volunteer adventurers of the Foreign Levy.

“Chalbi also rightly pointed out it would be illogical for us to assume logistical duties; similar to combat, we don’t have the experience to know the Maelstrom bureaucracy, its supply lines, or its supply needs. Our healing magicks are further limited, nor are we trained in first aid, as N’tahja said, so our use as medics is limited if not actively harmful!”

She swept her gaze from one side of the auditorium to the other and sighed heavily. “I know you want to be of use just as much as I,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the acoustics carried it to every corner of the room. “Eorzea stands on the brink of destruction, and sitting by and waiting for it to happen—or waiting for someone else to do something about it—is unacceptable to us. But if we act rashly and if we keep falling into petty squabbles, we will do more harm than good.”

Silence settled on the arcanists, each absorbing Thubyrgeim’s words as they sat and thought.

Finally, after long minutes:

“…What about acting as a communications or signal corps?” Ricard from the mathematics department said.

There was a rustling of cloth as most of their colleagues shifted in surprise.

“We all know the flag signals the Knights of the Barracuda and Maelstrom use for their field deployments,” he added, “it’s how we signal our own ships if we’re on assessment out in the harbor and how we know if they have any trouble while escorting merchants. Unless they’ve suddenly adopted a completely new system, that is something with which we can assist.”

Mhaslona, having sunk down into the seat next to Synnove during Thubyrgeim’s speech, hummed thoughtfully. “More communications officers to spread out among both the regulars and the Foreign Levy,” she said. “And if need be, we’re the better option to send running to another squad, too, leaves one more sword-arm on the line.”

“The carbuncles can run messages from unit to unit as well,” Synnove called out. “Either written or recorded. We know Dalamud’s descent has been creating aetheric interference; we can’t know if linkpearls may fail entirely, and the double redundancy of physical signals and messengers could prevent a total communications breakdown in a worst-case scenario.”

“Useful in the city, as well,” Bontensont said slowly. “Having an arcanist with each infantry unit patrolling provides the same safety net for communication, and the close quarters of our quays are similar enough to ships’ holds that our current trained tactics would remain effective with little collateral.”

Thubyrgeim smiled slowly. “Well now,” she said, “there are the arcanists I know so well.” She glanced around the room. “Objections?”

None.

The guildmistress nodded. “Right then, I will begin writing the proposal to the Admiral immediately. If anyone has any further ideas, you have until sunset to stop by my office. Dismissed.”

Mhaslona clapped Synnove on the shoulder as they both stood. “We’re on our way, Greywolfe,” the Sea Wolf said, a touch of pride in her voice.

Synnove smiled at her, though it was small and strained. She wanted to be useful, to do something, but though the Guild had finally found its course, trepidation still sat heavy upon her.

And Dalamud continued to sink ever lower.

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn #thubyrgeim guldweitzwyn #dt's writing #okay so this is less tears inducing than i had originally planned #mostly it's hurty if you're familiar with those previous fills :3

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #6: Strict Proof Eternal

Prompt: first steps | Master Post | On AO3

tagging: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Synnove fidgeted with her hands in her lap, shoulders hunched as she sat in Professor Mhaslona Fhilfhiswyn’s office. The aetherophysics professor was carefully paging through the grimoire Synnove had made for herself, finished just this morning. The arrays for Ruin, Miasma, Bio, Physick, and others had all received a perfunctory nod of approval, but the Sea Wolf had frowned when she had gotten to the pages set aside for summoning a carbuncle.

Perhaps dedicating half the grimoire to the two-dimensional representation of an emerald carbuncle array was a bit much?

Synnove forcibly stopped herself from picking at her cuticles. She was trying to break that habit since she didn’t have the excuse of the manicures Rereha tried them to once a moon any more.

Professor Fhilfhiswyn tapped the page before her. “What’s this?”

Synnove sat up and leaned over. Page six of thirty dedicated to the internal functions and processing capabilities of the carbuncle, and the professor was pointing to a specific set of equations and coding. Oh, no, she’d spent so long on that part, was it wrong?

“Oh, um,” she said, “that’s an algorithm for self-improvement and organic learning.”

Professor Fhilfhiswyn stared at her long enough that Synnove couldn’t help but start fidgeting again, dropping her eyes. Finally, the professor said, voice flat, “Artificial intelligence.”

“…yes?”

“Why?”

Synnove sat up, blinking, and met the professor’s gaze. “Well…why not? Carbuncles are composed of living aether, so the capacity for intelligent, exponential growth should be possible. Learning, rather than programming.”

The professor blinked slowly, humming, and returned her attention to the grimoire, turning the page. Synnove sat back and again resisted the urge to pick at her nails.

After the pages on internal functionality and processing, there was the section—ten pages—on mapping living aether into a physical form. Shape, mass, texture. After that, twenty pages carefully detailing how the living aether could be channeled into the basic spells for an emerald carbuncle, Gust and Downburst, with room to one day add more if necessary. And, finally, five pages laying out how to link the living aether of the emerald with Synnove’s own and bring the carbuncle into the physical world.

Professor Fhilfhiswyn closed the grimoire and slid it across the desk to Synnove. “What resources did you use when creating the carbuncle arrays?”

“Um, I looked at the standard array the Guild provides to get a sense of where I should begin, but other than I just…did what felt best. I know that’s not very scientific—”

“You made these from scratch.” Disbelief colored the professor’s voice.

“…yes?”

“Did you ask anyone for assistance?”

“Oh, no, ma’am, I wanted to see what I could do on my own. Um. Did I…make a mistake somewhere?”

The professor hadn’t stopped staring at her. “No,” she said, after a long, tense silence. “No, you didn’t. Those arrays are, theoretically, perfect.”

Synnove couldn’t help it: she beamed. If Professor Fhilfhiswyn said they were perfect, then they were perfect. She couldn’t wait to write Auntie and Rereha and Heron about this!

“May I see the emerald you’re using as the focus?” The professor said. It sounded like she was struggling to keep her voice even.

“Certainly, ma’am,” Synnove said. She reached into the pouch of accoutrements she kept on her belt, feeling around for a few moments. Where did it—ah, there it was!

She palmed the stone, pulling it from the depths of her pouch, and held it out to Professor Fhilfhiswyn. The Sea Wolf took it carefully, the stone appearing small in her hands, and carefully held it up as she placed a jeweler’s lens to her eye.

The emerald was a deep, vivid green sphere, a full ilm in diameter. At first glance, it appeared perfectly round—until it caught the light, as it did now with the sunshine pouring into the professor’s office. It practically blazed with green fire, glittering and brilliant, showing off numerous tiny facets. A small hole had been drilled through the very center, allowing the jewel to eventually be strung on a bracelet or necklace.

And the aether that had coalesced around it. To Synnove’s senses, this emerald tasted of the chocolate pudding pie she and some of her classmates had tried at the Bismarck during her second moon at the Guild, the one topped with huge, thick dollops of mint-infused whipped cream. And it sang, a beautiful melody of windchimes and sweet flutes. As soon as Synnove had picked it out of the box down in the stockroom, she’d known this was the emerald to use for her carbuncle.

“This is marvelously cut,” Professor Fhilfhiswyn said. “I’d almost think it was Ul’dahn work. Which of the gemcutters did you go to?”

“Oh! Um. I did it myself.”

Synnove thought she heard a cracking sound, the professor whipped her head over so hard to stare at her. Synnove felt her shoulders creep back up to her ears again and said, “Um. My best friend’s mother is a goldsmith, and she frequently let me observe her work. And she showed me how to cut gems when I asked.”

Professor Fhilfhiswyn carefully removed the jeweler’s lens in her eye, setting it aside somewhere in the mass of papers on her desk. She returned the emerald to Synnove, who cradled it close. The Sea Wolf woman said, “And you’ve been with the Guild how long, now?”

“Six moons.”

The professor closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose for a count of seven, held for seven, and breathed out again for another seven count. She opened her eyes. “All right, let’s see you summon that carbuncle.”

“Right now?!”

“No time like the present,” the professor said, pushing herself to her feet.

Synnove scrambled to follow, coming to stand in the empty space between the desk and the door. Professor Fhilfhiswyn leaned up against the wall to give her as much as possible, arms crossed and watching her intently.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to soothe her nerves—it didn’t work—Synnove opened the grimoire and flipped to the page containing the activation key for the carbuncle array. She took out her channeling quill with the hand with which she was still palming the emerald (she really needed to string it on some leather as a bracelet), checking to ensure the metal nib wasn’t loose and that the white griffin feather Auntie had sent her hadn’t broken. She took another deep breath, this one shaking, and looked up at the professor.

The Sea Wolf nodded.

Synnove pressed the quill to the aetheric ink of the key and began channeling her aether.

The key lit up, and the shadow of an array burst into her life around her. Synnove kept the count in her mind—one, two, three, four, five—and then a shape, vaguely catlike but bigger, with two long ears and three even longer tails, tumbled into existence, landing with a graceful pose on the floor before her.

The carbuncle looked exactly as all the other emeralds usually did: soft fur that almost appeared blue in certain lighting (and that was something that had had arcanists scratching their heads for generations now), a triangular patch of scarlet between its ears. Its eyes were big and round and black, looking around inquisitively, and its black nose twitched as it sniffed the air.

Synnove carefully closed her grimoire, using the channeling quill as a bookmark, latching the book and hanging it from the hook on her hip. She was still holding the emerald focus. “Hi there,” she said softly.

The carbuncle looked up at her, and yipped happily, the sound oddly tinkling, like crystal windchimes. She—and Synnove wasn’t sure how she knew that this carbuncle was a she—sat back on her hind legs, tails floofed around her, and reached up with her front paws. She yipped again. Uppies!

(She’d wonder later how she knew that was what the carbuncle was saying. She’d wonder later how the carbuncle seemed to be talking.)

Synnove cooed, “Oh, aren’t you just a darling.” She bent over, carefully picking up the carbuncle and bringing her to her chest. The carbuncle chittered happily, snuggling in close, and started up a soft, chiming purr.

Professor Fhilfhiswyn clapped her hands together. Synnove jumped, having forgotten the Sea Wolf was there.

“You’re changing your focus of study,” the professor said. “From mathematics to aetherophysics.”

“I am?”

“Yes. You, my dear,” Professor Fhilfhiswyn, “are wasted on just doing geometric proofs for the rest of your career. You, Synnove Greywolfe? You have talent, and I’ll not see it squandered.”

Synnove had been told she was talented before, by her tutors, by Aunt Angharad. This time, though, and for the first time, she believed it.

Her emerald carbuncle purred in delight.

#ffxivwrite2019 #dt's writing #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #oc: mhaslona fhilfhiswyn #as a note #synnove is about 15 nearly 16 here #don't worry mhaslona is gonna work on getting that adamantium spine that angharad and heron and rereha laid the foundations for