Despite what many assumed, Phyllis was never literate in her childhood.
She, like many others from isolated villages across the continent, never had a scholar to teach them the basic Eorzean alphabet. Tiling the fields, skinning pelts, fashioning woodwork or wielding an arming weapon were all that her village could provide for an education. It took the generosity of her guild's advisor, Thubyrgeim Guldweitzwyn, to spend time fixing her the illiterate ways.
Over time, the once illiterate Phyllis Ebris now compresses her spare moments into learning the basic esoteric formulas that make up the modern arcane. To say it was easy was far from the truth. She was comfortable to admit she wasn't the sharpest of the guild, not in the least bit ashamed of her small village's humble lives. But having been given the opportunity to work with proper scholars on the field, she'd be damn sure she'd do her best to meet their expectations.
Thaliak above, she'd had been thankful thus far that neither of the scholars among them had ever flaunted their status before her or any other adventurers present. Even upon asking permission from Master Rammbroes to be acquainted with the archives tent, the roegadyn himself allowed her to linger there under his certain conditions. And thusly, Phyllis somewhat became an unofficial resident within the archives tent, acquainting herself with tomes at a goobu's pace.
That is not to say however, that she thoroughly enjoyed the strain of reading itself. A slow reader she was, digesting every word with glaring expressions whenever a foreign word of phrase caught her eye. The current tome in hand, however, was something that seemed too outlandish to swallow.
Allagan mages summoning primals?
Even with the most basic of the arcane formulas, it sounded impossible. Especially if the requirement demanded the summoner's exposure of a primal's 'essence' in order to achieve it.
But who's to say that it won't come at a greater cost? Especially given the nature of its ritual summoning.
She read further into the tome, her brows knitting at the labyrinth of words.
"Oh, you're here again! Good."
Tearing her sight away from the tome, she saw that same red-haired miqo'te standing at tent's entrance. She gave him a small nod for a greeting.
The nightly visitor then made his way back to the records shelf once more, lining his finger across the journal spines. Phyllis had only ever seen him at night, hardly in the day, but then again, she barely had the time for socializing after an arduous expedition in scoping the terrain.
Strange man. She thought, before she returned her attention to the geometric diagram on the page.
The mere diagram alone was enough to set her mind to motion. Unlatching her journal from her leather bag, she grabbed a pencil and began writing in earnest of what she understood.
'Based on the loose interpretations of Allagan texts, the concept of summoning primals is to have both witnessed one and successfully struck it down. Thus, taking its essence and emulate said essence into an egi. A method in which the modern arcane must have taken to create our own summoned entity known as carbuncle.'
…Or is it? She held her chin before she continued to mark the pages.
'Perhaps Allagans were something likened to be on par with the gods if they are to survive after witnessing a primal. Ah, but then again, by the records present, Allagans themselves seemed to share the same 'enthralling' problem when faced with the godly beasts. No one on record, on the history of Eorzea had we ever heard of anyone survive the lure of becoming a primal's thrall. Save for the elusive individuals known as the 'Warriors of Light'. But with our memories tampered and no trace of their existence left, who's to say it was ever possible to capture a primal essence in the first place? The method, by the book make it look easy-'
Then the thought struck to her in the middle of her journaling-
"Oh, you're here again! Good." The visitor's words echoed in her mind.
…he did look like he wanted to say something…?
She looked up, her purple gaze meeting his eager, mismatched eyes. A daunting realisation sank into her that she must have been inexplicably rude to ignore his presence entirely.
"I… sorry, did you need something… or-"
"No, no, not at all," he said with a wave of his hand. "I merely thought you looked like you're getting a hold on things this time round."
He made a quick glance at the unruly handwriting on her page and murmured; "-That has got to be worst handwriting I've ever seen," only to clear his throat when they made eye-contact.
"I know how it looks like," she scoffed. "Not the most legibly elegant handwriting in Eorzea."
His ears fell flat, running his hand along his arm nervously. "Ah, my apologies."
She quirked a smile, "No harm done. I'm still learning, so you have the right of it."
"Oh?"
"Haven't had a proper literate education till my fourteenth summer," she shrugged. "My guild's advisor urged I practice writing my thoughts down as a means of improve-"
…Oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I?
She felt her face flush, realising she had once again overstated unnecessary things to a complete stranger without consideration. Not to say she was ashamed of her lack of education, of course, but even so-
"Ahem, anyway," she took a deep breath, feigning confidence. "…You looked like you had something to say… didn't you?"
The miqo'te smiled, shaking his head.
"No not really. Though it's easy for me to forget that not all of Eorzea had the privilege of receiving scholarly education. So do forgive my jesting earlier."
"I suppose it's not an offense if I assume you another Sharlayann student?"
"From the Isle of Vale to be precise," he nodded. "Though it does spring up the question: what- no, how did you come by in joining this expedition?"
Phyllis tilted her head, trying to string the words without fumbling her explanation. "…Would you prefer the long answer or the shorter one?"
The miqo'te laughed before answering curtly, "The short one. Though I don't mind if you indulge me with a tale or two."
Upon a second glance, she only then had she made a proper look at him. Contrary to his strong build, he bore gleaming mischief in his mismatched eyes; his smiling lips had almost seemed strangely gentle. She had only ever been acquainted with keepers of the moon, as most had dominated her small village. But regardless of what tribe of miqo'te she's ever known, none had ever bore the same likeness as him.
His cyan eye akin to the moon; his red eye a brilliant fire crystal. In all the likeness of his features, she found all of him strangely-
Beautiful.
Her heart ceased for a moment.
…Wait.
She abruptly stood up, bristling the fur of his tail upright at her sudden movement. Her face blushed anew, making her feign a stretch of her limbs in a poor attempt to cover it.
"S-sorry," she forced a laugh. "It's… It's not a very interesting tale, I promise you."
"Oh," his expression deflated. "If it's too uncomfortable to talk about-"
"No, no, I mean- well…"
Calm down, you're overthinking again.
She took a deep breath and sighed. "The short version is that after two seasons being under tutelage of the advisor for the arcanist guild, Mistress Thubyrgeim took note of my experience in charting the undiscovered landscapes. With Mor Dohna's terrain being ravaged by corrupted crystals, she put a good word with Master Rambroes that I'd take part in re-mapping the scope of this place."
"Arcanist guild? So then, then you hail from Lominsa?" he asked.
Phyllis nodded haplessly, knowing full well of its reputation of its 'organized chaos'. "Though I'm not what you call a native to the place, as is with most adventurers."
"Fascinating," he said almost too eagerly. "So then, as an adventurer and wanderer of the realms, are there any tales of any heroic trials for a bard to sing?"
The elezen laughed, "I'm afraid not. Despite all assumptions, adventurers are no more than hired hands for the most menial of tasks. The better tasks are granted to those who've yet proven themselves worthy of taking high marks. Since travelling to Sharlayan was out of the question, I've merely had to make do with Limsa Lominsa." She paused, smiling mellowly at the memory. "Not all are born scholars, but after the Calamity- well. I guess I merely came to the mainland in search of answers."
His eager smile mellowed; his eyes fell to the ground reverently. "Dalamund."
It was difficult to correct his conclusion. Especially since that fated night, visions of a battlefield plagued her mind. A battle of ash and aether clashing against machinery none she had ever seen. Accompanied by faces that seemed idly familiar yet foreign to all her five senses. Beastmen gods standing before a pyre of array of elements.
Such were sights of her mind's eye at the fall of Dalamund. And much of these visions haunted her in stifling instances.
She gave a reluctant nod, hoping at the very least he'd understand it wasn't a matter she was fairly comfortable to discuss. With a clap of her hand, she said; "Ah, but that's enough of me and my woes. And what of you, good sir? For what other reason is there that you'd come sneaking in this tent on a nightly basis?"
His ears perked up, before rubbing his palms against his forearms. "You caught on that?" he chuckled nervously.
"The number of staff is small and it is awfully suspicious that you'd only come to show your face to check on records at such a dastardly hour." Phyllis smirked. "Had I not seen you in the company of my employer, I would have tossed you out before you'd set foot on this tent."
"Em, well," he avoided her gaze, his hands continuing to fumble at his arms. "…Alright. You caught me. In truth, I'm not supposed to be here, but I can assure you I've no ill-intent for my quiet visits."
"Tis alright, friend," she laughed, waving her hand in gesture. "If you were a thief, no doubt you'd make for a very honest one. Though, I wary your visits might put you on an uncomfortable position if you're not too careful with it."
The miqo'te blinked, wide-eyed at her words, "You won't tell?"
"We wouldn't be here now if I did. Besides, your business is your own. Any adventurer would know better by giving anyone the benefit of the doubt."
He sighed his stiff posture relaxes as his smile beams boyishly. "Thank you. And here I thought I did so well to hide it."
Now that he mentioned it, she thought back to the entire encampment. It's stranger to think he'd been able to elude the eyes of the entire Sons of Coinach, unless-
-Everyone knows, yet pretends he eluded them.
The idea alone made her chuckle. "I do have to ask. Between you, your superiors of Sharlayan or the people of this staff were to hear this, I wonder whose ears would be pinched at the end of it. Of course, not that I'd be the one to spill the beans as it were."
He folded his arms and answered; "Elder superiors and possibly members of the Forum would do more than 'pinch' my ears. After the great exodus, more of them have grown rather reluctant in sending their people out into the world." He then paused, eyeing her. "And I suppose the matter itself shouldn't be of great interest to you. Just promise me you didn't hear any of this from me."
She smiled. "I heard nothing, saw nothing."
"Right." He pulled his thumb up with a nod. "Now, that I have effectively taken up most of your time, I shall take my leave. Good night!"
And with that, he immediately teleported from where he stood.
Curious man, she smirked, turning her attention back to the opened pages of her journal. Just as she was about to resume transcribing her notes, she realised.
"Oh. I never asked for his name."