FFxivWrite2021

[svirdilu]

Total written: 3 (2 unscreened) prompts, 2071 words

Am I doing this super late? Oh definitely. Am I gonna try to get through a good chunk of prompts on my own time anyway? Hell yea
Prompt #4: Baleful
Prompt #5: (You pick!)
Prompt #6: Avatar
Prompt #7: Speculate
Prompt #8: Adroit
Prompt #9: Friable
Prompt #10: Heady
Prompt #11: Preaching to the Choir
Prompt #12: (you pick!)
Prompt #13: Oneirophrenia
Prompt #14: Commend
Prompt #15: Thunderous
Prompt #16: Crane
Prompt #17: Destruct
Prompt #18: Devil’s Advocate
Prompt #19: (you pick!)
Prompt #20: Petrichor
Prompt #21: Feckless
Prompt #22: Fluster
Prompt #23: Soul
Prompt #24: Illustrious
Prompt #25: Silver Lining
Prompt #26: (you pick!)
Prompt #27: Benthos
Prompt #28: Bow
Prompt #29: Debonair
Prompt #30: Abstracted

Comments

2 - Aberrant (Raised-in-Garlemald AU)

[lightparty]

There's a lot of stories in Garlemald proper about magic. Venatus can still recite almost word-perfect the horror stories he'd hear traded back and forth around cereluem heaters on long cold nights - kids trying to scare each other, mostly. He can also pin down by the year how his thoughts about magic changed - the wide-eyed, fascinated terror as a younger child; the dubiousness as an older one, as he also started noticing how other kids would sometimes give him nervous glances as they listened; the unstated feeling of superiority as a teenager as he learned about conscript signiferi. He'd thought he was so mature for not being scared, for scoffingly repeating propoganda that magic couldn't measure up to magitek.

There'd even been times as a teenager that Ven had tried using magic, feeling rebellious and daring - only ever when he was sure nobody would trip over him. The same wary looks people sometimes gave him told him he should be able to. But without any guidance or examples to follow, he'd never gotten far: a spark, a light breeze, and nothing more.

(If Ven's being honest with himself, it's also partially that he hadn't dared to push it any further. He certainly hadn't dared to try and find guidance, thinking of his parents' reactions if he got caught. If he were a native Garlean nobody would blink an eye at a boy doing research about the enemy, but an adopted one who could theoretically do the things he looked up...?)

In training to become an architectus, he'd found his opinion shifting again as he learned the practicalities of setting up fortifications against magical attack. This was the most measured, reasonable reaction, he'd thought, looking back at himself as a teenager with some embarassment. Magic was a threat. But nothing you couldn't deal with if you were prepared - if magitek weren't superior, how could the Garlean Empire have spread so far?

The instructors had warned them - for all their training, they wouldn't truly be prepared for magic until they saw it with their own eyes. Ven had nodded with the rest and instantly forgotten about it. They'd all seen signiferi in action by now, if only in demonstrations, and he'd felt magic with his little test sparks, years ago. That's an experience none of the Garlean architecti around him would ever have. He was prepared, he'd thought.

He's realizing only now he was wrong.

It feels like the very ground's rebelling against them - and while he's seen signiferi commanding the earth, he's never felt it with this scale. The whole camp shakes like it's undergoing a quake, legionaries cursing as they lose their footing in the slick mud. Lighter fortifications list this way and that; heavier ones, seated more deeply, rattle and creak disconcertingly under the strain. Lightning curves away from the rods around the camp, unneringly targeting structures they should not have hit. Each bolt sears Ven's eyes, burning away his night vision and rapidly progressing to the edge of what he knows will be a furious headache, but he doesn't dare pull his dark goggles back down - in this kind of weather, even he won't be able to see.

Ven swipes the back of his hand across his face, wiping rain out of his eyes (and probably tears, his eyes must be watering, but it's hard to tell in this wet). He leaves behind a smear of mud.

"Press them!" someone yells. "Before they bring the whole camp down!" Legionaries stream out towards the camp entrance - plenty are already out on the field, but there are lancers and swordsmen to contend with long before anyone can get to the casters.

In something like this, even the architecti fight, but Ven's not got the first clue where his centurion is; he was out on the other end of camp when the attack started, helping set up the communications center. They're certainly not here anymore. He doesn't fancy his odds of finding them in this chaos, but -

Something feels wrong. Venatus can't put it into words, but there's a sensation in the air that feels hushed, like the quiet of the sky before a truly terrible blizzard. And the lightning strikes, Ven realizes, have stopped aiming themselves - the last few he's seen burn across the sky are back to hitting the lightning rods. Ven can feel his tail bristling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

He glances around frantically - none of the Garleans near him seem to feel anything, or at least they're not reacting, but there's a conscript near him - another Miqo'te - whose ears have folded down. And an Elezen, a Hyur, another Hyur -

They're all looking the same way, to the northwest - some only for a second or two as they rush on to whatever they were doing, but they can all feel it. For a moment, Ven sees the whites of the other Miqo'te's eyes.

It's magic, Ven realizes abruptly. Magic building. He keeps expecting it to crest and break, unleashing a truly crippling lightning strike or fireball, but it just keeps building up - and the shaking of the ground has levelled off, as if there's only one or two signiferi still pummeling the camp to keep them distracted -

Ven's head turns again, to where he can feel the magic growing. It's impossible to see over the walls and buildings of the camp - daringly, he springs onto a stack of crates, climbing it to end up atop the barracks structure. He still can't see where and what's happening, though he can sense it. But he can see formations shifting, as the conscripts outside who can sense it try to manuever and push through to the source.

(tbc, maybe)