AN: erm... so... I kinda got lost into the realm of Final fantasy 14 (before the great exodus) and after finally finishing Shadowbringers, let's just say I just fell in love with this game (and G'raha, let's be real). So to anyone else who had expected me to update the other stories, ehm.. sorry I'm still stuck with them.
As for this, to all ff14 fanfic readers, a thousand apologies for any ooc moments or mis-interpreted canon elements. This is my first ff14 fanfic and I have no idea how many, or how often will I be writing this.
With her nose barely touching the pages, all G'raha Tia could do was shake his head.
She's at it again, it seems.
He cleared his throat, only to be ignored for the third time. Her purple eyes glared at the page; brows knitted with every flicker of her gaze. Though he's never properly known her, it wasn't hard to forget a short elezen with tribal paint above her cheekbones among the of cartographers onsite. Especially since he'd often find her in the archives tent, burying her nose with that same tome for five nights straight.
Nevertheless, he still needed to find that report. Since the esteemed cartographer had decided to ignore him, he'd might as well task himself to search for that journal.
Tracing his finger along the row of books on the back shelf, he muttered to himself; "Now where is that report."
His mismatched eyes followed along the marked spines, hoping to glimpse on its number until he felt a small tap on his shoulder.
"Here," a quiet voice followed. He turned around to find the journal in question at the hands of the green-haired elezen.
"Ah, thank you," he nodded upon receiving it.
The elezen returned the nod with her own before she resumed to her seat to glare at her own tome.
G'raha flicked the pages to the latest entry of the report, skimming the words with his eyes.
Speculated traces of Allagan masonry. A handful of misleads. Nothing significant to report as of late.
Of course, it would take a miracle to find a means to get closer to the site without Garlean intervention. Having to be satisfied with the report, he closed the book shut before returning it to its proper place.
The miqo'te was just about to leave before he glimpsed upon the familiar hard-bound cover on the cartographer's hands.
Allagan Theory of Aetherochemistry?
The green-haired elezen shut tome closed before slamming it hard onto her forehead. G'raha winced, his ear twitching at the poor treatment of the tome before he saw her obvious frustration.
"Is ought amiss-?"
She shook her head, hiding her face behind the book in hand. With raised brow, he decided it best to leave her to her own before he heard her quivering voice.
"Um… You- I mean…"
"Yes?" he tilted his head.
"If its not too much trouble," she lifted the book from her face, unveiling a determined, violet gaze. Contrary to the small quaver in her voice. "Can I ask for your own opinion on something?"
With a quick smile, he pulled up a chair and sat across her. "If it is within the best of my knowledge, yes?"
"…If the origins of aetherochemistry are rooted in the allag, how- no… Why is it that the modern arcane is solely modelled from Southern isle's methods?" She opened the tome in hand, flipping the pages idly. "Granted that our history is divided by Calamities and dynastic rules; just how is it that despite the existing records of Allagan methods, modern arcane arts chose not to pursue the Allagan practice?"
He tilted his head, taking her words into consideration. "If it's the matter with the root of modern esoteric arcane arts, I fear I'd fail poorly in any attempt of an explanation. On the matter of its transition, however, you can look no further to the phrase; 'history is learned, not lived.' You can imagine that from every Astral and Umbral era, what is left of every fallen dynasty is all but crumbs of rubble in the wake of each Calamity. Try as they might, it is unsurprising that those who lived to tell the tale are no more than the common folk and less likely those who are of great importance to their society. As such, whatever secrets or nary abilities they harbour would eventually be lost in time by the passing of an interpretated version of the lost dynasty's legacy."
Like my own. The thought alone had him unconsciously hover over his red eye.
"…I see," her gaze fell to the tome in hand. "So, from what I understand what you're saying, is that for each passing generation, the information becomes more and more obscure."
He nodded. "For a time, it was even assumed by the common populace that Allagan empire was no more than a myth of an eld forgotten realm. Save for the discovery of its ruins by Saint Coinach himself."
Judging by the nature of her questions, she had only the barest understanding of the methods of interpreting history. If anyone within Sharlayannn halls were to hear of her question, no doubt they'd judge her for not knowing the basic principles of interpreting historical texts.
"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he added.
She shook her head, though her side-eyed gaze told him otherwise. Though having to barely know this woman, she was surprisingly easy to read. That purple gaze told him enough; that she did wish to ask for more, but conceded in consideration of him.
I suppose I should let that slide for now.
"Alright, then. Have a good night," he waved before he turned his heel to make his exit.
Making his strides across the rugged grounds of Mor Dhona, he quirked a smile before raising his head up to the sky. Once before, old Dalamund dominated the heavens four years ago. In the endless wake of fearful anticipation, all could not forget that fated night when the seventh Calamity befell Eorzea. And in its passing after four long years, more questions gripped him in inexplicable ways he never could never understand.
"One day," he uttered, covering his red eye with his hand. "One day I shall finally understand the meaning of those words."
G'raha cocked his head over his shoulder, watching the campsite slowly dimming their lamps within its fabric walls. In one- or two-years' time, he would one day become an overseer over this project and finally join their famed expeditions into the depths of these Allagan ruins. But until then, the best he could do was drop by from time to time at any given opportunity.
I wonder, he idly thought. Would she still be there, once I earn my archon title?
The mere thought alone made him a little guilty, knowing he took advantage over the fact she hadn't known he has yet to take part of this project. At the same time, he had known at the very least that wouldn't be the last he'd see of her.
Having decided he had stayed long enough, he teleported to Island of Vale's Aetherite and merrily made his way to his private chambers.
AN: Alrighty guys, you know the drill: share me your thoughts/comments/criticisms. Correct me for any misguided info dump on arcanist/summoner. I am open to any and all sorts of negative/positive feedback, cause I want to improve my writing just as much as I want to enjoy what I write.