#min'to

Miziutte: *thinking* Shit she doesn't know who I am

Min'to, who is not wearing his glasses: What's this about showing her something? OK onto that train of thought

Miziutte: *blinks*

Okhi: *blinks*

Min'to: ...

You know, if Nicky weren't so damned lazy, he'd be a force to be reckoned with. As it stands, about six Ul'dahn moneylenders have reasonably legitimate claims on his soul.

I guess textbooks aren't cheap.

Being honest, I probably should ask him why he's had cause to visit all the places he has, but that would invite uncomfortable lines of inquiry in turn. Best to keep that particular relationship purely business.

I might go visit Winter again soon. Having to plan extensively so I'm not trapped anywhere for too long is a nuisance. I've seen casters who can zip about the lifestream and pop out wherever they damn well please, whenever they damn well please. Nicky's one, that's why I hire him. Kid's a little younger than I am, and shaping up already to master the aetherical arts.

I was sorely tempted to call on Sable for that list of elezen in need of a good punch to the reproductive organs, but I decided against it. Instead, I called Nicky's pearl and had him take me up to the frozen hellshole that is Ishgard. From there, I visited some of the only elezen that don't make me automatically need to punch them.

Whoever put such cheerfully optimistic souls in charge of making guns is either a genius or a damned fool, and I can't quite tell which it is.

They needed something delicate delivered, the sort that you can't trust to moogles, because the inquisitive little kleptomaniacs get into everything and this would apparently leave a fine red mist where the moogle was for such tampering. I bargained the job and a handful of gil on top for a fresh, uncut soul crystal - I'll need to get that on over to Mint, when I can.

You never think about how different you are until someone who hasn't seen you in moons turns back up, worse for wear, but still alive. The last time Fao saw me, I had all my limbs but couldn't speak.

The last time I'd seen him, he was happy.

I said I didn't care, and to an extent, it's true. Whatever took the shine off his eyes, it's not my business. But he's like a brother to me, and I want to show whoever hurt him their own entrails, all the same.

There seems to be a formula for every occasion.

You start with the diagnostic spell, which basically just collects all the relevant points of data - height, weight, general wellbeing, physical sexual characteristics, presence of illness or injury - it gives all the variables.

In a pinch, you can guess some of the important ones by more obvious cues (like, oh, he's bleeding from a gaping hole in his chest, I wonder what's wrong), and if you know your allies well, it's good to do that spell while they're uninjured, so you can guess more efficiently.

Then, just calculate and channel.

It's kind of hard to do it on the fly, supposedly, so those books are sort of just page after page of standard equations that you just put the right numbers into.

Like, "head injury = probable concussion" - so there's a spell to check just that one thing, and if that's true, how bad it is, and then you can apply the formula that will efficiently turn aether into reduced pressure and repaired tissue.

I think I might be able to figure out a formula or something to siphon aether from bloodshed I wasn't even an active participant in. The Arts aren't the only way to do this sort of thing, they're just the - I don't want to say 'easiest,' because for someone who's always understood how to channel aether, that's likely not true. They're a martial discipline with some magical talents, though, and the first part being familiar makes the latter part easier for me to grasp, is all - it feels more natural to tie everything back to violence.

That probably says something about me, doesn't it?

I left a bit of eggplant out on a plate, today. Did it sneaky-like, playing the distracted student who 'just forgot.'

I have a hunch, based on the relative size of my shadowy admirer, but nothing is quite certain, yet. The plate emptied, mysteriously, adding evidence to the pile. I'll call that a victory, especially since eggplant isn't really my favorite. Baby likes it, though, as does Kaito's little monster.

Seedkin can be vicious, and cannibalism is common for them. It's all just fertilizer, I suppose.

I haven't had any luck tracking down more information about how aethercell -

Concussion pressure is often caused by blood and other fluids inside the skull - if I could convert that blood to aether and then displace the aether (for example, into an aethercell battery) it would immediately relieve symptoms and give power source for repairs?? Careful - aether crystals in skull would exacerbate symptoms & make new problems!

Anyway, I haven't found much information on crafting such equipment. I can see about pestering Winter about it, if Mint and Sable haven't figured anything out.

The thing is, I'm concerned about losing this stuff, too. I never used to wear jewelry, and I still misplace stuff unless I've cause to keep it around, like the collar I wear because people have a habit of asking questions or the carefully-concealing gloves with claw-slits that I had made for the same reason. I'm afraid I'll lose track of what I did with a battery full of the destructive power of the gods - what the fuck.

An arcanist's formulae are in their grimoire though, and without the book, there can't be much for sophisticated spellwork anyway. At least, not in any kind of reasonable time frame. Maybe it'd just be most effective to find a way to affix the battery to the book, then?

I keep spotting something from the corner of my eye. If it had been only once or twice, I might have discounted it as my mind playing tricks on me.

But it isn't.

I mean to continue playing this game, feigning ignorance of its doings. When it becomes complacent, I'll catch my foe unawares, and then - we'll see, from there.

My gift is actually proving useful in this matter. If I sensed the creature that stalks me held immediate violence in its heart, I might be less patient. For now, knowing that it watches me as surely as I watch it, I can content myself to wait.

So, the nervous Raen healer - Min, I know her name starts with that much, at least - I think I mentioned her? She also has a faerie, and I finally decided to ask about it, now that I know more about such beings, myself.

It turns out that instead of being obliterated by the Elementals, Nym succumbed to some kind of a curse, so those who yet remain are now some kind of violent creatures called tonberries.

Mint - the scholar cat - has a faerie named Lily. Min - this is going to bother me, it's one of those Doman names, and by this point it'll be rude to ask - her faerie is named Miri. There. I've put it to paper, so if I forget, I can look back on this writing and recall.

It's not a nice feeling, to be ignored and left out just because you can't speak up.

Mint says they do communicate in images and emotions, which means they are quite capable of thinking and feeling. He also says that most folk ignore them, which doesn't surprise me at all. That said, I'm making it a point to greet them and pay attention when they're around, because it's polite, and I remember just how lonely it got when nobody cared to talk with me because I couldn't talk back. It got so bad I even tried to speak, though it hurt like fire in my throat to make the attempt.

Min, the Raen, she's observant. I'm a bit surprised she wasn't put off by how we met - me, pretty much commandeering her aid so I could burn off some excess aggression, and all.

Ah, well.

Mint thinks my ideas have merit - all of them. Against our better judgment, I showed him my crystal as proof the process I suggested might work. I figured he was the sort to want to share his knowledge with the world, and I was right. He seemed surprised, but in a good way.

He'd heard of the aethercell equipment - I read up more on the process, and apparently, it's originally a Nymian idea. Go figure.

If the bloodletting's done in moderation, so it doesn't leave permanent damage, he thinks that it would be possible to build up a reserve that way. Though it'd be small, a little at a time, unless I found someone worth milling - killing. That bit of pirate slang seems appropriate though - grind them up, and turn them into a fine aetheric paste. Because reasons, that's why.

You think you're getting a feel for someone, and then they drop a fucking bridge out from under you.

It was a training exercise!

Yes, I was going a bit hard, but would the Empire go easy? Still, if she'd gotten too hurt to fix what she'd done, there's a marked difference between accidentally nonfatally hurting an ally, and doing millions of gil in property damage. Even yet it's probably a couple hundred thousand to smooth out the seams where she put it back, like.

What the fuck.

I should've maybe gone a bit easier, but when casters are involved, I feel like I don't really have a choice. That shitty puddle of violence knocks the wind out of my sails every time, and it's almost all I can manage at once.

Fuck me sideways.

So, I talked to this hyur mechanic last night, for something that's only sort of related.

I could've gotten seriously hurt during all of that, and only so many mechanics are around who can repair something like my arm. Put plainly, Winter lives in Gridania, and Book (why is she called Book? Does she throw them at people?) kind of scares me a bit. Plus, I don't want to be a burden on the company's resources. I've no idea where Winter got her hands on that much Garlean steel, and being honest, I'd rather not ask questions like that. I'll be paying for repairs if I don't go to either of them, which feels - better, to me. More equitable, somehow.

Anyway - the hyur lives in this place nearby, Ward 11, a lounge called the Gaze.

It's nice enough, but I wasn't there for the bar, you know? Decent food, tea and a steak, while I waited - let me back up though, because I actually spotted the mechanic outside. He's got one of those fancy guns, like the machinists out in Ishgard do - loud as fuck, though. A real loud, screaming and banging sort of fuck, you know? LOUD. Anyway, so in between shots I asked him if he might be the mechanic, because that kind of a gun, that specific kind, takes a bit of mechanical know-how, or so I've heard.

It turns out he is. He's also - focused is a word for it. 'Ditz' is a less polite word for it.

So, it's not that he's stupid in the least. It's that he's only really interested in the one thing - it's like how Dad was.

Dad used to go after a project so hard that nothing else matters, so things us lesser mortals need like food and sleep hardly matter - until he's literally unable to go on, passed out in a pile of tools and scraps. Looking back, it's endearing how silly Dad used to get. At the time, I just felt real lonely, and a bit like he didn't care. I mean, the third time he sent the Wailers out and burst into tears when they brought me home unharmed, I sort of figured it out, at least, but I still had to spend a lot of time finding something to keep myself busy. Me taking up with the Lancers was a blessing for both of us, I think.

I had the suspicion that Sable is like that just from talking to him, a bit, but it turns out he's got a cat that sort of acts as a keeper to him and their whole group.

This guy, his name's Min'to, is something else. Did you know that fairies are apparently from Nym?

I don't know how this fellow got his hands on a soul crystal from a dead civilization, but apparently Nymian 'Scholars' used a more advanced sort of arcanima to make fairies, somehow. I guess it's probably like carbuncles, he compared the principles anyroad. We had a long chat on that topic, because he had her following him around, his fairy friend. He confirmed that Sable's absolutely how I figured he was, that over-enthusiastic sort, and he's used to looking after the hyur.

Mint - he appreciated the pun in my name because he understands my pain, I think - Min'to handles business affairs and making sure people actually eat. I guess they've a whole company organized out of the Gaze. I sort of offered my services as a registered adventurer. Sure, I've got the Pearl, and it feels good to have a set, steady place to work, but an extra job or two can't hurt, financially, so long as I don't get too injured or waste too much for resources, you know?

I'm still not entirely sure if Mint was joking about taking me up on my offer to punch every Ishgardian who'd ever hurt his friend - being honest, I'm not entirely sure if I was joking. It's altogether too tempting to go up those fucking steps and just punch every elezen I come across, and having a reason and specific targets would just make that more tempting. The great thing about being crotch height to half the other races: they fold like a house of cards when you hit 'em just so.

Fuck Ishgard, and fuck Halone's frosty tits. If I never go back it'd be too soon.

I wonder how Fao's doing?