#JobQuest

[amigoways]

Gain insights into the valuable lessons and experiences one acquires while on the journey to secure a developer job.

🚀 Explore the highs and lows of the journey to a developer job. 💡 Gain insights into overcoming coding challenges. 🌟 Celebrate successes and milestones in your tech career. 🧠 Acquire wisdom from experienced developers.

🔗 Dive into the full article for a comprehensive guide Journey to a Developer Job. 👉 https://bit.ly/46Ifmyk

[echthr0s]

listen, I love Stormblood but every time I play it I gotta once again be reminded that Squeenix really thought to try to convince me that this lass

is the natural daughter of this guy

[weatheredpileoftomes]

a blunt form of change

For FFXIVWrite Day 17, a free day. I had nothing lingering from this week’s prompts and Merriam-Webster offered me a word of the day from a specific Earth religion that is not mine, so I put iTunes on shuffle instead. Frydlona, post-3.3, minor Ishgardian Restoration spoilers, ~500 words.

When all you have is a gun, everything looks like a Diadem sprite. Or a yak. Or…

“Ah, Frydlona!” Stephanivien de Haillenarte exclaims as she walks into the Manufactory. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”

Frydlona blinks, trying to accustom her eyes to the shade. “Is it something to do with the Restoration?”

He starts rummaging through boxes, muttering to himself. A little louder, he adds, “Only tangentially. Tell me, you’ve had no issues with the mechanism of the aetheromatic auger, have you?”

“No…” Frydlona looks around as if someone, somewhere is going to explain this to her. A blonde Hyuran woman in plain clothes shrugs when Frydlona catches her eye.

“And the aetheromatic clipper?” Stephanivien asks the depths of the drawer. “I know the yaks have been safely unharmed, but is the device itself natural to use?”

Frydlona hadn’t expected to laugh today, but she has to bite her lip against the urge. “Well, some people might say that using handheld clippers is a more natural way to shear an animal than using a…shoulder-mounted cannon?”

“’Tis much more efficient.” Stephanivien straightens up, beaming, holding a gun of some kind. It’s shorter than a gunblade, longer than one of Merlwyb’s pistols. Frydlona doesn’t know much about guns, as a rule. “Now, I know you to be familiar with my work, and Francel says you’ve been very supportive of his work in the Firmament, and…did I hear someone call you an archer?”

“Ah.” She hesitates. There are a lot of answers she could give, and she suspects Stephanivien de Haillenarte might even understand some of them, but… But she doesn’t want to. “I’ve trained as one, yes. I’m using war quoits now.”

“Fascinating,” Stephanivien murmurs, taking out a device of some kind and scrutinizing her through a lens of it, as if she’s a jewelry project he’s working on. “But you have good aim.”

Frydlona is not sure where this is going, nor that she entirely wants to find out. “Yes…?”

He hands her the gun and a glowing box that seems made mostly of tubes and wires. “Would you mind testing this for me?”

“What does it do?” It looks…normal, as far as Frydlona can tell, apart from the glowing box.

“Well.” Stephanivien actually looks a little uncomfortable. “It’s a gun.”

She hadn’t thought weapons were his style, somehow. “A…gun? Like with bullets?”

“Do you know how much it costs to become a knight?” he asks, gesturing broadly. “’Tis a fortune, even for those knights who fight on foot. The armor, the swords, the training, the patronage… Ishgard’s army is made of the wealthy, and the poor are defenseless.”

Frydlona looks down at the gun again, and thinks of Francel’s patient rebuilding, and Laniatte’s even-handed diligence. “I see. All right, I can try it.”

“Excellent!” Stephanivien beams, and the Hyuran woman watching them lights up as well. “Then come back, and I shall introduce you to Joye, and we can discuss plans.”

Frydlona had come to the Skysteel Manufactory to ask Biggs and Wedge if they needed her to bring anything to Jessie back in Revenant’s Toll. She is not quite sure what just happened. Still, Stephanivien makes more than a few good points.

[lal-ffxiv]

.

i have queued up 200 screenshots I've taken during msq and though hmmm I thought I had more (i do have more but those are not these) I had saved them to another folder with 400. but gosh my bad memory.

[askquiry]

Careers and Job questions with sample answers

Discover valuable insights into careers and job questions. Access sample answers and expert tips to navigate your job search with confidence.

Find more Questions on https://www.askquiry.com/question_cat/careers-job/

[unionizedwizard]

Yeah it was real weird honestly? i'm guessing they might be planning a bigger 13th themed expansion/shard-travelling storyline in which they all will be officially introduced for those who havent done all the job quests and all. Because right now it's like. "uh hello! i was at your mom's house the other day!" "oh cool!" "yeah! bye forever!" LMAO

Can you believe there are people who play FFXIV who DONT know who Unukalhai is? If the name Unukalhai means nothing to you PLEASE be one of todays lucky ten thousand and go do Warring Triad, because this small child is everything to me I am kissing him on the nose

[demilypyro]

If you had to pick a scene from any ff14 questline that isnt msq, which one would be your favourite? (I am a basic bitch, its the "I tire of this Charade" scene from the DRK Jobquests for me)

I like the Stormblood Warrior job quests where they introduce the first canon female warrior (a tiny Au Ra girl) and Curious Gorge the warrior trainer promptly falls in love with her and is sent flying

[dogicrimsonofficial]

Just a fun little sidenote about my MSQ adventures as Howler! There is a whole thing about Fate, Destiny etc in their storyline that I am not sure I will be able to fully write out, but me and those in the know?

We know Fate is gunning for Howler. Our evidence? - Odin has spawned near on top of Howler at least 2-3 times. - S and A rank huntmarks keep appearing whenever I am doing MSQ's or Jobquests, in places too close for comfort. The current count is on 5 different ones so far. (Three in Thanalan, two in La Noscea). - Boss Fate just now spawned on top of Howler as they were going for a location in Coerthas. This happened in the Bloodshores too. I couldn't make this up even if I wanted to. Fate is salty about Howler.

[thevikingwoman]

Meryta, busy in the midst of trying to help her friends get back from the First, takes a time to visit her lover Tansui. Unfortunately she finds him sick - but she doesn't mind taking care of him a bit. While there, she has time for reflection and maybe a few realizations.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2542 | Read on Ao3

I was recently out of commission with a very annoying cold, so of course I kept myself going dreaming up a sweet sickfic-trope scenario. I hope you enjoy some fluff!

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | Early shb patches | romance Rating: Teen. Fluff, romance, sickfic, food as a love language, feelings, swearing, black magic headcanons, minor black mage jobquest spoilers

Homesick

“You may want to skip out right away,” Rasho says. He’s sitting alone at his usual table, Tansui nowhere in sight.

Meryta lifts her eyebrows, and he explains: “Tansui’s sick in bed.”

“Should I worry? Can I help?”

“Nothing serious - a cold or something. But a sick pirate is a sorry sight if there was one.”

Worried despite Rasho’s reassurances, she finds Tansui’s dwelling. Maybe she can do something, and besides that, she did come to visit him in the short time that she has. She doesn’t bother knocking, gently pushing the door open. It’s dark inside, his curtains drawn and just a small oil lamp casting a dim light across the room.

“Meryta?”

Tansui sits half up in his bed, covered in a twisted blanket, his hair messy. “Is that you or a fever dream?”

He coughs, rough and loud, covering his mouth with a cloth and collapsing on himself.

“Tansui – I’m here, I – how are you?”

She rushes over, her hand brushing against his face. He does feel hot to touch, his brow sticky. The stale air doesn’t help either.

“Not worth much to see me such, sick as a dog. Good to see you well, though –” He coughs a little again, his voice strained, and falls silent.

“Shhh - spare your voice.” He opens his mouth as to protest, but she continues, no wish to hear that rattling cough again. It sounds painful. “And no matter, it’s always worth it to see you, Tansui.”

She tucks a bit of his hair away from his forehead, and he smiles carefully as he looks up at her. He looks awful, really, his lips dry and eyes unfocused.

Meryta gets up and opens the window in the kitchen – fresh, cool air will be nice. There’s a pitcher of water, and she pours a glass for him. He drinks all of it carefully, and she gets another.

“Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not sure my healing can do much for a cold – but let me try.”

Day or night, the stars and the gates of the heavens are always present and heed her call. Her aether swirls through her, out of her, and over and into Tansui. She tries to find if she can heal or bring relief anywhere, anyhow, but she’s not a chirurgeon. Her healing is meant to close wounds and provide succor in battle, not cure the sick.

“Feels nice enough,” he says – but she’s not really doing anything. She shakes her head and withdraws her hands and her aether. He still feels hot, his skin sticky.

“Are you hot?”

He nods. “Yes. I felt cold earlier, but its too hot in here.” He kicks at the blankets.  She sorts them, but puts them back over his legs.

“You have a fever. You shouldn’t get too cold.”

He makes a noise of displeasure, and sticks his feet out from the blanket. Fine. There’s a bucket of water with a rag by the bed – someone else left it, and she dips and wrings the cloth. The water is tepid, almost warm, but she still wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Meryta,” he says, and kicks at the blankets, twisting them again. “So pretty.”

“You should rest, Tansui.”

“Too fucking hot.”

The tepid water is not helping, if only it was cold, or – perhaps she could create some ice? She frowns. The truth is, she doesn’t have that kind of control, her black magic large and destructive. It’s a nice thought, to freeze a bit of water, but she’s just as likely to have a hunk of ice take out the side of the building.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and kisses his hair.

Meryta grabs an empty bucket and fills it with fresh water from the well. Then she walks off, out of the settlement and around the stone that supports Heaven on High, into the narrow piece of land between the rocks. The ground is sandy, coarse stubborn grass growing where nothing else will.

She places the bucket and stands back. She’s come a long way recently, the black magic proving a great outlet when she feels restless about her aether, worrying it will overwhelm her. But she’s not a technician, and she rolls her eyes thinking of Zhai'a’s admonishments. She does need to control it better, but it’s good enough for battle.

She blasts the bucket, the air freezing, and a block of ice forming around it, then shattering. The grass is covered in frost and ice shards. Not an indoors endeavor. But the bucket is full of ice, and with her goal accomplished, she heads back to Tansui.

He’s still awake when she returns, smiling and then coughing as she enters the room. The ice is easily cut into chunks – her control with the katana is no issue and the blade is sharp and pure. She dumps pieces of ice in the warm water and dips the rag in it. Much better.

“Mmm, nice,” Tansui whispers when she brushes it across his brow. She seats herself next to him. He has closed his eyes now, and she hopes it’s in relief. He sighs when she brushes the rag across his shoulders and his chest.

“That’s why you came, to put your hands on my chest,” he mumbles.

She can’t help but grin.

“A little lower, please.”

She drags the cool water across the top of his abdomen, careful not to make the whole bed wet. Tansui cracks an eye open.

“You could go lower still.”

She starts, and he winks at her.

“Ass!”

“Pirate.”

“You need to rest,” she says firmly, smiling broadly. It would not be useful to give in to his antics, but it’s good to hear them.

“This is helping?”

“S’feel good, yes.”

She returns to her task, and cools his brow again. Tansui’s head falls forward, and he sighs again when she runs the cloth along his nape, lifting his messy hair out of the way.  His braid is one big tangle from sleeping on it, probably tossing and turning.

“Scoot a little forward,” she says, kissing his shoulder. “Let me fix your hair.”

He makes a noise that she supposes is assent, and moves himself a little forward so she can sit behind him. She starts, gently undoing his braid and the tangles with her hands. His hair is soft, the purple and black strands parting for her with a little patience. She likes, loves, that he takes the time to dye it, the flash of brightness suits him, for all the Confederacy’s practicality. She runs her fingers through it one more time.

“Do you want me to rebraid it? Or leave it loose?”

She prefers to have her hair loose when sleeping, but she knows he sometimes keeps it braided and she doesn’t know if it’s laziness or preference.

“I like your hands it in, Meryta.”

She’s more than happy to oblige. He should really rest, though, his shoulders slumped as he sits. She scoots herself further back, and leans against the wall.

“Lay down,” she says, hands gently pulling his shoulders, maneuvering them both until his head is in her lap. She resumes running her hands through his hair and across his scalp. “Rest.”

He closes his eyes and makes himself comfortable. Then opens his eyes again, looking up at her.

“How are you, Meryta? Are you here long? Tell me.”

“I can’t stay long, I’m afraid.” She tries to make time, after everything, but once again things start to seem urgent. “We’re looking for a way to get everyone back home. Their bodies and souls being apart is taking its toll. I worry – we’re working on it. We will find a solution, to carry their souls and minds across the void. But it has been a long time, especially for Thancred. I think he’s worse off than he lets on.” At least others share her concern. “It’s not my area of expertise, but I can help with the practical stuff.” Fetching things and people and fighting what she can.

“Mmm. You’ll all find a way. I’m sure of it. Problem solvers the lot of you.” Tansui has closed his eyes again. “And creators of them. What else. There’s always something else.”

She doesn’t admonish him on account of being sick, but he’s also right.

“Ryne – I did tell you about Ryne, did I not? She’s found something, in the empty place flooded by light. She’s going to try and fix things.” She explains, about the Empty and Eden and Ryne’s plans, and the change of aethereal balance they’ve set in motion. There’s a lot to tell and explain, her hands slowly caressing Tansui as she speaks. Her tail winds itself across his chest, she can’t help it. He catches it lazily, his hand holding it close.

She’s so proud of Ryne. The drive of her, to figure out who she is, and to fight for her world on her own premise. Not just fight for it, but change it. Create something, something big. If she can truly transform the landscape – and she will – it’s incredible.

Pulling herself back to the story, Meryta looks down on Tansui, who’s seems asleep now. Without rush or interruption, she really looks at him, and all the ways he is handsome to her. His skin tanned from the sun and sea,. the crow’s feet around his eyes His distinctive nose. His beard, scruffy and dark and a bit novel still. Of course she’s seen lots of people of many races with beards by now, but no au ra has them, prominent scales adorning the jaws on some people instead. Whichever you see in childhood still sticks with you. Same with his ears, soft and round. She holds herself back from tracing his ears and jaw, in case she wakes him, but she loves it. His features are interesting and wonderful and somehow now, familiar too. She doesn’t mind sitting here, while he sleeps; while he gets better.

Is this what love feels like?

She frowns. No use to think of now. Tansui is fast asleep, breathing steadily. She does not want to wake him, so she keeps petting his hair and closes her own eyes. Her thoughts turn back to Ryne.

Ryne’s a better hero than she can ever be, the force of her growing and healing her world. Meryta herself, she’s better at changing things through fighting. For all she’s done, the big things were not her actions. Aymeric is the one ended the Dragonsong war, his political influence and boldness bringing change. Hien and Lyse freed their countries, brought them out from under the grasp of Garlemald, their people following them. She’s a pointy tool, but when the fighting is over, other people are the true heroes. People like Ryne. Meryta is happy enough to fix both a sword and a plough, to make a pretty necklace or dig an irrigation ditch. She likes being a fixer too, but it’s in the small, mundane and physical ways.

She should check on the enclave soon, see how the rice fields are doing; the school too. And Charlemand’s infirmary. Good people, whom she can help in her own small ways. Her thoughts wander – to her friends back at the First, to her friends here she has missed. Back to Tansui, snoring slightly with a firm grip on her tail.

-

The next thing she notices is the sun filling the room. It’s morning, and she must have drifted off last night, trying not to disturb him. There’s a slight cramp in her shoulder from siting and sleeping, but it’s not too bad. She tries to move it, shuffle around without waking Tansui. She doesn’t succeed. He cracks his eyes open – at least they look more focused today. She rests her hand against his brow, and he feels less warm to touch too. His fever seem to have broken.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Morning.” He frowns. “Did you sit there all night?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. And I fell asleep.”

“Oh.” His cheeks color and she worries momentarily if he’s feeling feverish again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better, I think. Hungry.”

“I’ll cook you something.”

“No need, I’ll just – “

“Please, Tansui, I need to leave soon, but I can do this. You should still rest.”

She wriggles out away from him, and he sighs and shuffles in the bed to sit up.

“I’m not that infirm.”

She ignores him and starts in the kitchen. Rummaging around, she finds some cooked rice and eggs, and it’s fast enough to fry them up for a meal. Tansui hasn’t left the bed, sitting against the wall in it with his eyes closed. Still tired, no matter his protests. She crushes a bit of dried seaweed over the dish. Something simple should do.

Tansui accepts the dish, and she sits on the chair next to his bed to eat her own plate. While he is absorbed by the food, she can’t help but look at him, carefully from beneath her lashes. There’s something unhurried and undefined, eating breakfast together messily like this. She’s happy to see his appetite, and to make him food. She wants to share this with him, whether he’s sick or well.

“Thank you. He looks up from his plate, and then down again. “I’m sorry. I should have cooked, or –”

“You’re not well. And I’m happy to cook for you.”

“And it was good, but you’re – in my house and it’s… well.” He hesitates and shrugs.

“Well, it’s only fair. It’s not as if I have a home to invite you to.”

As she says it she wonders; where does she feel at home? Maybe she should find a more permanent place – once everyone is back. Somewhere she can invite Tansui. It’s an appealing thought, but fleeting for now.

She finishes her own plate, and cleans them both. Simple moments for the two of them. Her heart pounds in her chest. But for now, she has more duties, and friends to help. She can’t bring herself to leave quite yet, though, and finds something else to clean, her eyes drifting to Tansui ever so often.

“You don’t have to stick around, Meryta. I’m not much company.”

“It’s alright – I’m glad to see you – “

He reaches for her, and she sits at the edge of his bed, her hand in his. Easy.

“I do appreciate your care, looking like shite as I do, but I know your time is short. Better be back when I’m well again. Besides – loath as I am to admit it, I should rest more.”

“Promise me you’ll do so?”

“Aye.”

 She squeezes his hand, and they both smile, the moment between them suspended in time, filled with unspoken words.

It breaks when Tansui coughs, curling forward and letting go of her.

“Go save your friends.” He waves her off.

“Get well, Tansui. I’ll be back soon.”

“Yes. You will.” He smirks confidently at her, haggard as he looks. Then he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. Her heart skips and heat flushes through her. She hopes she hasn’t caught his illness.

“Stay safe.”

 His words float after her as she slips out the door.

[shivapvoid]

i just got monk to level 63 and judging by the first jobquest i can tell the stormblood monk quests are gonna be really stupid and thats gonna be funnn

[novemsolis]

I finally played the sge jobquest

[mochanox]

V'ren was a little bit out of control after EW, this takes place after the events of the final jobquest

[wildstar25]

Number 29 for the FFXIV asks? I enjoy picking people’s brains about this sort of thing.

question list

29 - One feature/content you want to see added to the game

As much as I'm tempted to say explorer mode for raid maps, I'm going to instead say capstone job quests. Y'know like the level 80 ones we got in shadowbringers? I want those back so bad. I don't mind the role quests. It makes sense with the sheer amount of jobs in the game to try and focus the resources of the writing team a little more. But its such a wasted opportunity to not have at least one job quest per major expansion. I think they'd be a perfect opportunity to idk... talk about the new super cool attacks the WoL has cooked up for their job between the last 10 levels and further the player's engagement/connection to that fantasy.

Idk, I'm probably seeing this from a very particular point of view since I play summoner and that's a job that's deeply tied to in game lore. I would like solar bahamut much better if Arsay turned to the camera and said "I was trying to summon Baha but I started thinking about Hydaelyn and this new type of guy popped out.". It doesn't even need to be that explicit!! Maybe you can tie in how looking at electrope in s9 and discussing how arcane geometry can be used to change elemental aether has gave the WoL the idea to experiment swapping or mixing aether types while summoning their demis and egis. It could be anything! It could even just be catching up with out job mentors again and having fun!!!! Im still bitter about the lv 80 summoner jobquest being more concerned with catching us up on fordola's situation than hanging out with y'mhitra and digging up more allagan nonsense or talking about how we can summon pheonix now. (even tho i really like fordola! its just felt out of place especially since other job quests where focused on job quests characters.)

I miss the Rogue/Ninja crew just as much 😭 please mr yoshi p please let me see my little guys

[rabid-catboy]

a lot of parts of ff14 are kinda weird if youre playing a job that can resurrect people. youd think theyd take that into account when writing dialogue for healer jobquests but no

[souridealist]

FFXIVwrite fic: day 16, 'jerk'

Elilona, Midgardsormr, and her dark knight jobquests.

***

“I should have left you all to drown in Leviathan’s tidal wave!”

“When we meet again, you will give us your answer.”

Moraby Drydocks dissolves into white sparks, white flecks, snowflakes biting into her skin like shrapnel-sting — snow all around her, and steel in her hands, and she’s so cold — gray steel and a flash of gray hair — gray hair and then white, and a slim pale figure in the distance — blood on the steel, blood in gray hair, and then it’s Haurchefaunt falling into a strange sky and Ysayle on the stone — there’s blood on her arms, her chest, patchy on her fingers, so bright but still so cold, and she’s falling —

— she jerks awake.

The rough wool of her blankets scratches against her palms; rafters crisscross a dingy ceiling. The Forgotten Knight. It’s not as cold as her dream.

A small brown shape moves at the corner of her vision, and a low alien rumble rolls through the room. Thou hast been dreaming, Midgardsormr tells her.

“I was.” She sits up, tugging the blanket with her — it’s disordered anyway. Midgardsormr is with her often, perched on her shoulder when she’s sewing or whittling, flitting around while she walks, but he doesn’t speak that much. She’s not as used to it. But sleep is sticking to the corner of her eyes, and there’s a raw ache at the back of her throat, and she is very much alone. (She could have been at Fortemps Manor. She didn’t want to be.)

“I’ve been dreaming a lot, lately,” she says. Midgardsormr stretches his wings, orange-pink in the firelight, and flaps his way over to perch on her knee. The tilt of his head is a listening one, even on a dragon.

The same dreams? he asks.

“Yes,” she says. In this dim and dirty pool of candlelight, it doesn’t seem like a strange guess. “About a stranger, and… dark places. Small, mean, angry people. And a sword.”

That needle thou hast been using of late?

“It’s a rapier,” she says, as if that’s the part that matters.

Thou art better with thy cane.

“I know,” she says. “But I might need… I was barely enough against Rhitahtyn. And then the Ultima Weapon… I would have died. I needed more.”

So doth thou practice with thy rapier. Until thou dream’st of it, it seems.

“It isn’t that sword, actually,” she says, flexing her hands. Midgardsormr rolls one beady eye at her. “It’s a greatsword, in the dreams.”

I have not seen thee wield such a weapon.

“And you never will.” Her voice is as soft and final as dropping a stone into the bottomless chasms around the city. Midgardsormr flaps his wings, his claws catching on her knee. She looks away.

Thou hast wielded one in the past, then. Before I knew thee. And before Hydaelyn knew thee, perhaps. Though not even I can be sure of what she knows.

“Not a greatsword,” she says, very quietly. “An axe.” She drags her hand across her face. “I should get back to sleep.”

Most likely. The children of Hydaelyn are fragile, fast-paced things.

There’s nothing much to say to that. They are, to a creature as old as he is. She shrugs one shoulder and burrows down into her blankets, dislodging him; he digs his claws into her knee again in retaliation and flutters up to the headboard above her. His tail scratches against the wall. She closes her eyes, clutching her pillow as if without it she’ll drift away.

The fire flickers and begins to burn down. Snow rattles against the window and collects against the glass. Elilona tosses back and forth, eyebrows drawn down into a tight and fretful pinch even as she dreams. The Father of Dragons watches her, wings folded tight; not even he can guard her against her own self.

Near dawn, still sleeping, her mouth shapes a half-voiced word.

“Fray…”

[weatheredpileoftomes]

my sign is "stop"

For FFXIVWrite Day 19, “weal”. Majha, early Heavensward, implied spoilers through the end of ARR patches, ~350 words. A couple of lines of dialogue from the jobquest “What’s Your Sign?”

Another course of study.

“I’ve heard about astrology,” Majha says. She doesn’t want to run an errand to the Athenaeum Astrologicum. She wants to go and bother someone important until he lets Ta Tribe into Ishgard too, but Haurchefant has told her not to. It will only make it worse, he said.

She wouldn’t have listened to It won’t help, but she’s not doing anything to make it even harder. Errands, though? Errands, again?

“They practice a different sort of astrology there,” Artoirel says dismissively. “Not a practical sort, but something to do with conjury and playing cards.”

Conjury and playing cards? Against her will Majha is interested.

She pulls her cloak tighter around her as she walks through the frosty streets. Ishgard is bone-cold, death-cold, nothing like the crisp snap of the mountain winters where she grew up. It’s not natural. She finds herself wondering as she walks what it would take to unsnarl the aether of the whole place, not just a little at a time—how to let the ice go, and stir tree and plant to wakefulness again.

The message is quickly delivered. She lingers, though, looking around the astrologicum. There are tables spread with star charts, and strange globes. They seem almost familiar somehow, though Majha can’t think why, and she draws closer to one of the tables to take a look.

The feeling fades as fast as it rose, but someone has noticed her. “You!”

Majha doesn’t bother looking around first. She turns, politely, not grabbing her cane as she does. She has a letter from Count Fortemps in the purse at her belt.

“Have you an interest in studying astrology?”

“Maybe,” Majha says cautiously. She’s definitely curious about what this might have to do with conjury, when it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the world around them.

“Perhaps you were drawn by fate to this place of learning!” the man who’d spoken said. He’s not dressed like a noble, but he acts like one. “Do you wish to know more of fate?”

She believes in fate. She doesn’t like it, and isn’t willing to be drawn around by it, but she believes in it nevertheless.

She glances over at the star charts again, the wire globe one of the people here is tinkering with, but that elusive sense of familiarity doesn’t return. Still…it wouldn’t hurt, to learn fate better, that she can defy it better when she needs to. “All right,” she says.