#xiv stuff

athena has a case of extreme narcissism and wanted Laha to act as a mirror to her. when that didn’t work, and she saw that through the soulbond, is the moment she deems him as disappointing. he isn’t playing his designated role any more and is directly interfering with her work

she only saw him and Erichthonios as tools for her ascension to godhood. in her theme song it's literally mentioned she sees others as beneath her lol. any kind of affection she showed was to manipulate and endear herself

i don’t believe the “infestation” or corruption of the mind him and Athena spoke of was ever literal either

i have no doubt Ultima had influence on her but even Laha said she was always like That, so

sorry it’s just super funny to me when others bend over backwards to explain that she loved Laha (and Erichthonios) when in canon she doesn’t care about them beyond as tools to use and discard as she sees fit (which is cool. i like that about her!!!! she didn't do any of this out of love)

if anything im guessing she chose Lahabrea because he was a good fit and she probably assumed him being powerful would result in an equally powerful vessel (son). his intellect and genius is what she valued in him

the minion description also states she turned some admirer of hers into a dog lmfao. which again shows how good she is at exploiting the emotions of others

Hokma/Benjamin/[?] - Red Mage - Sage - [chosen because in LoR Hokma looks like he's using a rapier, and I can see him going for a healer class like that.]

Binah/[?] - Reaper [she's Garlean. I could see her going with Black Mage, but if she tried it'd garner far too much attention.]

Chesed/[?] - Red Mage - Culinarian* [He mainly knows coffee, and whatever he fancies to learn. No Guild. He learned RDM from Hokma.]

Gebura/[?] - Gunbreaker

Tiphereth/[?] - Pugilist - Botanist [girl throws punches at Roland in LoR!]

Netzach/[?] - Pictomancer - Conjurer - Alchemist [Pict main, only dabbles in Conjury, is into Alchemy for the potions and the crossover it has with CUL being able to make alcohol]

Hod/[?] - Conjurer/White Mage [Actual canon quest line!]

Yesod - Machinist [as he is Garlean, his ability to manipulate aether is affected. Although there's no Eorzean equivalent, I'd say he has a degree or some such in actual Technology itself]

Malkuth/[?] - Black Mage [Actual canon quest line!]

As a reminder:

Hokma, Chesed, Netzach, and Yesod all spent at least fifteen years pre-ARR in Sharlayan. They learn their classes there, rather than the canon quest lines.

Malkuth, Hod, and Tiphereth stay in Eorzea. They're in the right places at the right times to pick up those quest lines that Zayin doesn't.

Binah and Gebura both learn their jobs well away from Sharlayan/the Eorzean continent, being most likely in Bozja for Gebura, and Garlemald for Binah. Both are the eldest of the group, being in their twenties rather than their teens when the Dravanian Exodus happened, making them mid-to-late thirties.

This brings us to: DPS - 8 Healer - 4 Tank - 1

Time and time again, I lose track of the very thing that keeps me holed up in this room for so long. The windows to the outside are stained in such a manner and so small that the very perception of time is difficult to gauge. The large crystal chandelier and the candle near my desk are my only sources of light and as such it becomes very easy to get lost in the words, the thoughts, the research. Frequently she comes in, her telltale knock at the door, sometimes with energy, sometimes without. I have told her she is always allowed to visit, and she comes and goes as she pleases. I think she gets worried, as she’ll frequently ask me if I’ve slept. Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes the answer is no. I never lie to her though. We sleep together. As if on cue, whenever I am feeling at my worst, she’ll come in and sing for me, and she allows me to lose myself in a place that isn't quite so awful. A place that isn't filled with the stench of my failures.

Day after day, the pile grows and I’m forced to dig deeper and deeper to find anything of relevance. The woman who shares the library with me chides me, in how messy I let my space get. This is delivered in no less than a one hour lecture more shrill than my ears have the care to listen to. She and I don't get along. We never have, and likely never will. But at the same time, for once I can tell her lecture comes from a place of concern. As touching as that is, confiding in her is simply not in my future. We exist in a kind of coordinated dance of unrestrained rivalry. She reminds me of me, sometimes. I hate her.

Time and time again, I am forced from my space by the woman who calls herself our captain. She tells me she has an important mission for me. At this point, I welcome any task she gives me to do. I have not fully recovered from the gravitas of my failure and remain without direction, stumbling through life like everyone else. It is in those brief moments where I am forced out of my space, forced to be around others whose personalities I find either questionable or grating, forced to perform the things I’ve practiced for years…. It is in those brief moments I truly feel alive. No longer living the routine I have grown so accustomed to where I shut myself into a dark space surrounded by nothing but knowledge where I attempt to invent a new purpose for myself. All such attempts have ended in failure.

Day after day, I yearn for the unknown, the sweet taste of roads never traveled, the excitement of discovering something new. I don't get that as much, anymore. Something prevents me from going out. In its place, I get the joy of sharing what I do know with someone new. A friend, who comes to my library from time to time. I have endless stories to tell, stories of my exploits, of the places I’ve seen, of the things I've learned. She always listens so dutifully, with this starstruck look in her eyes that's rather heartwarming. She asks questions, and I answer. I find myself mimicing my girlfriend and exaggerating certain parts of storytelling for fun. Around her, I allow myself to be animated. My emotions, my voice, my everything. I don't have to hide anything from her, and I don't really want to. Telling stories to this one has been more “fun” than I would have expected. In return she offers her company, and what she knows. She’s a plethora of unexplainable anomalies, but I don't even know if I want the sole distinction of figuring them out, so to speak. I remind myself frequently, she is a friend. A dear, dear friend. I have been blessed to meet her. She is not a research project.

Time and time again, I have to force myself to remember that I am not trapped in this space. There is a whole world out there, waiting for me to find it. My purpose, whatever it is now, isn't going to be found solely in this. One.Room.

But more often than not, that reminder falls flat on its face, and I find myself here, lost to the ebb and flow of time that waits for no woman. Lost to the thought that my new purpose is somewhere among these books.