The dull thud of a wooden door shutting behind her echoed briefly in the stone hall that, if followed to its end, would take her all the way to the revered arcanist's guild and their unparalleled banking business. Just two steps outside the small auditing office she worked at, Antimony could already smell the quick-drying ink and parchment, hear the clink of coins counted and changing hands, see the reams of ledgers with their numbers and calculations refined to an unbelievably beautiful art. In lower rooms, hidden from public view, there were stone walls littered with mathematical graffiti, the quiet shuffling of feet and the scratching of chalk, the muttering of intellectuals studying the curvature of a new spell.
Above her there came the blaring of a horn, a shout, and a waft of the vaguely rotten scent of saltwater, and Antimony wrinkled her nose, her ears twitching back against her head briefly, before turning away from the scene she could picture so perfectly going on below. Her own interest in theoretical mathematics was only a hobby; the arcanist's guild would likely scoff at her private efforts at worst, and at best look at them as one would a small child's drawing.
Her feet carried her up the ramp, and the sharp, rotten air of Limsa Lominsa grew stronger until she was standing under the glare of an early morning sun and the cool, abrasive spray from the waters below, kicked up by surging winds, misted across her face. She took a moment to breathe, noting an ache in her bones that made her feel older than her greyed hair and the fine lines of wrinkles in the creases of her body would imply. What did a simple miqo'te do when her employers, usually so demanding as to request overtime most weeks, greeted her with a gruff "We don't need you today"? Would she still be paid for her time? Would they expect her to make it up later?
Shaking her head, Antimony set herself to walking again, boots slapping crisply against the rough, alabaster stone from which the entire city was carved. The sound was harsh in her ears, distinctly different from the shifting-sliding of sand she had grown so used to over the decades.
Her stomach rumbled and pulled Antimony mercifully from a spiral of memories; she was better off not thinking of the desert, or anyone associated with it. As if on cue, her mind threw up a lengthy, mentally annotated list - restock her pantry, wash and hang out clothes (a quick glance at the sky told her there likely wouldn't be a storm today, but then one never knew with Limsa), clean out the trash that had accumulated since she'd last recalled to do such a thing, pick up a pair of boots she'd likely left at the cobblers for long enough that they old man had sold them. Chores.
The fine lines along her brow creased deeper, and Antimony took a sharp turn along the winding paths of Limsa Lominsa. None of those seemed appealing when one was living off gifted time today.
Her face crinkled again, but this time with a small smile, and as Antimony's body worked her way back home, her mind was already on the stacks of papers covered in notes and the early starts of equations. She would figure out this corrupt aether system, and then the arcanist's guild would have no choice but to allow her in. Even if it was just a hobby.
Above her there came the blaring of a horn, a shout, and a waft of the vaguely rotten scent of saltwater, and Antimony wrinkled her nose, her ears twitching back against her head briefly, before turning away from the scene she could picture so perfectly going on below. Her own interest in theoretical mathematics was only a hobby; the arcanist's guild would likely scoff at her private efforts at worst, and at best look at them as one would a small child's drawing.
Her feet carried her up the ramp, and the sharp, rotten air of Limsa Lominsa grew stronger until she was standing under the glare of an early morning sun and the cool, abrasive spray from the waters below, kicked up by surging winds, misted across her face. She took a moment to breathe, noting an ache in her bones that made her feel older than her greyed hair and the fine lines of wrinkles in the creases of her body would imply. What did a simple miqo'te do when her employers, usually so demanding as to request overtime most weeks, greeted her with a gruff "We don't need you today"? Would she still be paid for her time? Would they expect her to make it up later?
Shaking her head, Antimony set herself to walking again, boots slapping crisply against the rough, alabaster stone from which the entire city was carved. The sound was harsh in her ears, distinctly different from the shifting-sliding of sand she had grown so used to over the decades.
Her stomach rumbled and pulled Antimony mercifully from a spiral of memories; she was better off not thinking of the desert, or anyone associated with it. As if on cue, her mind threw up a lengthy, mentally annotated list - restock her pantry, wash and hang out clothes (a quick glance at the sky told her there likely wouldn't be a storm today, but then one never knew with Limsa), clean out the trash that had accumulated since she'd last recalled to do such a thing, pick up a pair of boots she'd likely left at the cobblers for long enough that they old man had sold them. Chores.
The fine lines along her brow creased deeper, and Antimony took a sharp turn along the winding paths of Limsa Lominsa. None of those seemed appealing when one was living off gifted time today.
Her face crinkled again, but this time with a small smile, and as Antimony's body worked her way back home, her mind was already on the stacks of papers covered in notes and the early starts of equations. She would figure out this corrupt aether system, and then the arcanist's guild would have no choice but to allow her in. Even if it was just a hobby.
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki