Chapter Text
She rolled the projector screen up, kicking the lights back on. “That will be it for this week’s lectures. Remember we have lab next week down in Labyrinthos at the aetheric accelerator. Bring your protective gear, you won’t be admitted without it. There will be a test the following day. Everyone pray enjoy the rest of your week.”
Nodding, the silver haired Miqo’te closed her laptop, slipping it into its case. Her file folder dropped onto its rolling cart. Students filed out of the room, some of them waving as they passed. She returned the waves with a curt nod. Pulling out her tomestone, she scrolled at the screen checking the conditions.
Winter had set into the northern region of Sharlayan, and Y’shtola Rhul had a long drive back to the area she called home in the Corthean mountain range. A senior professor at the Sharlayan Studium University, she taught three days a week. The rest of the week was left to “office hours” and “research” remotely. Y’shtola’s tenure allowed her to work flexibly. She taught because she enjoyed academia, one of the youngest tenured college professors at the age of thirty-eight. That was thanks to her prior service as a research scientist during the 7th Astral War. Unfettered access to the University’s research facilities helped to sweeten the deal.
Following the last of the students out, cart of files trailing behind her she shut the door. The Aetherology department was a rather small, comprised of herself, Matoya Shire, her mentor, Krile Baldesion, a longtime friend and a new associate professor who just got his graduate degree, G’raha Corvos. She passed the few offices, lights all off save for Krile’s. A passing wave as her heels clicked on the tile floor.
Light reflected off her glasses as she rounded the hallway and stepped into the elevator. Being a tenured professor and in a capstone department, she had a guaranteed good parking spot and was proud of it. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She stepped into the parking garage. It was colder than the university space but still much more comfortable over the freezing five below outside. Y’shtola was thankful she only had to walk several spaces from the elevator. Pulling the remote from her purse, she spun the key on her finger a couple times before hitting the unlock button.
The lights flashed on the car. She smiled at it.
An P2 era Volvo V70 Station Wagon. “R” spec. Descending from the high craftsmanship of Ishgard. Finished in a warm silver, close to the color of her own hair. Winter tires poked out from the fenders. The car was parked perfectly in the spot, backed in every day. There were marks in the concrete from her tires taking the same position. The wall on the driver’s side behind the car was stained black with soot from the engine idling to warm up. Dual tips peered out slightly from behind the rear bumper.
Y’shtola opened the rear tailgate, swinging her cart of documents up into the back and strapping them down. She closed the tailgate, stepping around and opening the driver’s door, sliding her purse and laptop case into the passenger seat. The miqo’te herself dropped down into the driver’s seat. Plush leather squeaked against her thighs as she settled in. Key scraping into the ignition, twisting the key. The engine cranked over once… twice… three times and roared to life. Sound echoed off the wall behind the car, a slight tinge of soot adding to the stain on the wall. The subtle whistle of the turbocharger as it spooled up.
Feeling the engine’s comforting rumble in the seat, Y’shtola unwound and slid back into the seat further. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up at the headliner and sitting for a few minutes. She always liked to let the engine warm a bit before setting off anyway. The car had lasted her to over two hundred thousand malms, and she was going to get another two hundred thousand out of it if she had her way.
Leaning forward, she undid her heels and put them to the side in the passenger footwell. Socked feet rest over the pedals, toes curling over the tops. She stretched in the seat, turning on the seat heater. The fan began to spin up, warm air blowing into the cabin. This signaled the engine was warm enough for her to set off. Probably had warmed more than was necessary to set off. She cracked the window a bit, the smell of Ceruleum combustion tickling her nose. She rolled the window back up, getting her seatbelt on.
Luckly the parking deck was pretty empty, no one to complain. Switching on the headlights and releasing the parking brake, she pulled out of her spot, rumbling towards the ramp. She tapped her toes on the accelerator as she rolled up the ramp. Past the TA’s, past the other professors parked cars. She grabbed her badge from her purse as she came to the gate. There was one car in front of her.
She came to a stop behind it. A red Integra. Tapping her fingers on the wheel, she waited a moment. They had room to pull to the gate, what were they doing!? She was about to give a light honk when she noticed the car’s large muffler shaking quite a fair amount. She cracked her window a bit again, and confirmed her suspicions. The car in front was struggling to start. Y’shtola frowned. Paying closer attention, she saw some Miqo’te ears twitching around as the driver rocked in the seat a bit. The engine cranked again and sputtered, but didn’t catch. A bit of smoke trailed from the muffler. Y’shtola noticed the dark stain on the red paint above the exhaust. They had a “Sharylan Studium” plate frame like she did. Red hair was just visible over the headrest through the rear window.
G’raha. He was a new professor, young and obviously making do. Another try, this time the engine caught for a moment before conking out again. Another whisp of smoke. She rolled up her window, drumming the wheel again. Instead of honking her horn, she shifted to neutral and gave a playful rev. The exhaust crackled in response to her input. She saw G’raha look up in his mirror and go as red as his hair. She flicked her lights at him once. He was in her department and she was his senior, that gave her some teasing rights.
She could see the car rocking a bit as it cranked once more. Stretching in her seat again she chuckled. He was nervous. Y’shtola debated going around to the other exit when the engine finally caught. G’raha gave it a couple hard revs, blowing some blueish smoke back at her car. It settled back into a shaky idle. She watched the muffler shudder as he pulled up to the gate, badged out and pulled away. Before turning out of the garage he gave her a rev back, blasting more blue smoke into the air behind him.
A slight cackle in response to G’raha’s action, she rolled up to the gate and also badged out. Pulling away in the other direction she made to exit the college campus on the north end. G’raha was a nice boy. Funny to be around, but still very green. He was cute.
The campus was flooded with students leaving around this time. Carefully navigating around the sea of vehicles she instinctively made sure her windows were up all the way. The dark tint obscured her enough that she couldn’t be picked out easily. College students had a fair share of “racer” kids and she did not need them knowing that she was even remotely into cars.
Coming to a stop at the exit, she waited for the left lane to clear. Positioned behind some unassuming economy car. First catching sight of it in her mirror, a dark purple/grey WRX rolled past her in the right lane. She recognized it as another faculty member’s car. It came to a stop just ahead of her car, also waiting to turn but to the right. It belonged to an Au Ra professor in the physics department. They didn’t cross paths much, but Y’shtola had seen the car and it’s pilot around before. She could just make out it’s flat four rumble over the idle of her own engine. Steam emanating from the blackened exhaust. The right lane cleared, allowing the car to proceed. There were a couple crisp punches of the throttle, the smallest poof of soot from the quad exhaust tips before the car launched forward, going into a slide around the corner, kicking all kinds of road debris in every direction and tearing down the road at full throttle. Echoing off the tree-lined road, the turbocharged flat four could be heard through the thick glass of her own station wagon, giving a slight overrun crackle as its driver changed gears. She cracked a smirk.
Her light changed, the lane flushed and she pulled onto the road. A three lane throughfare, built to handle the heavy commute traffic to and from the University. Signaling, she got into the left lane and lightly applied the throttle, passing most of the other traffic. Everyday traffic was a breeze for the car, and one of the reasons she enjoyed it so much. It was relaxing to drive. Her long commute had become a time for thinking, or unwinding, sometimes taking a longer way to have some fun carving the mountain roads on the drive home.
However, being such a densely populated area around college kids lead to many incursions with the young “car people.” As Y’shtola rolled to a stop at the next light, two cars pulled up to the line in the lanes to her right. In the middle was a light blue WRX. Instead of the pleasant bassy rumble of her coworker’s car, this one had a tinny tone that was enough to pierce even the thick glass of her station wagon. She looked over for a moment, noticing the lack of red trim on the fender that her coworker’s car sported. Rolling her eyes slightly at the down-spec version of the car, her thoughts were interrupted by another vehicle coming to a stop next to that one, with a loud set of banging noises.
She let out a sigh. It was one of the “tuner” kids with a BMW. There was an unofficial group of them in the school, and one of the reasons that the tenured professors lobbied for parking spots on a different deck. The ear shattering “crackle” tunes they loved to show off with were an assault on everyone’s ears.
She was currently now getting a taste of it as the car revved several times, finishing off every rev with a loud set of bangs and thick soot from the exhaust. Another eyeroll, followed by a physical cringing as the WRX revved back. It’s flat four revving sounded nothing like the crisp rumble of the earlier car. She grit her teeth a little as the light changed and both cars launched forward, exhausts blaring and tires chirping on the cold, dry pavement. She gave them a couple seconds to get ahead of her before proceeding.
The little “race” was fairly close, the driver of the BMW just kept breaking the tires loose and the WRX’s driver couldn’t change a gear to save their life. The college was in a dense urban area, so they only traveled about half a malm before coming to a stop again. Both cars started revving at each other once more. At least the WRX didn’t have a crackle tune on it. Another poorly derived “launch” and a quick “race” to about forty malms before letting off. Y’shtola’s eye twitched a little.
“If you’re going to race at least race!” They pulled up to the 3rd light, both revving again.
“Tsch. Enough of this.” She sat up straighter in her seat, tail curving around and resting on the center console. She leaned forward a bit and pressed the “sport” button for the car’s active suspension. Reaching down by the shifter, she also depressed that sport button. With a solid “thunk!” she moved the shifter over into manual mode. Would you have been able to hear her car over the two screaming engines next to her, they would have heard it’s idle get a bit more aggressive and choppier. She gripped the wheel with both hands, looking over at the other two cars still revving away. She could see a slight soot cloud building behind the BMW. Looking up at the light, her tongue stuck out a bit in focus.
It went green. Both cars to her right again launched in screaming exhausts and howling tires. Y’shtola mentally counted to three to let them think that they were alone in this endeavor once more.
“…thousand three.” Reaction time to her own statement that only a Miqo’te of her caliber could muster, she planted her right foot and the pedal beneath it against the floorboard with a solid thump.
Her car responded with its own poof of soot from the exhaust, pulling away from the intersection, seemingly lumbering along for a moment… until… The turbine’s whistle came through the rumble of the exhaust. Y’shtola was pressed firmly back into her seat. The car launched forward, all wheel drive and quality tires suppressing any wheel spin. Her concentration face cracked into a wide smile as she propelled past the pair “racing” with such ease it was if they weren’t even moving. The brazen confidence of age left her foot matted to the pedal even though her goal had been attained. Seventy malms an hour… eighty… ninety… cackling a bit she sailed through the next light as it changed to yellow, her earlier quarries long forgotten. Seeing the light following that one was still green, she kept in the throttle, the transmission rolling through the gears with precision as she bumped the selector lever. A bit more soot on each gear change. Just squeaking through the final light as it changed to yellow, crossing one hundred and twenty malms an hour, she finally released the accelerator and slowed back to a pace of fifty or so, now that she was out of the crowded area. Thunking the shifter back into fully automatic she relaxed back into the seat, adrenaline of the pull wearing off. Dropping back to one hand on the wheel, she wore a satisfied smirk.
“Showed them how it’s done.”
Flipping on the radio, she changed the car back into its “comfort” ride mode and settled in for the drive. Descending from the hilltop the campus resided on, she entered the college town of Scholar’s Harbor proper. The three-lane road merged into two lanes as the speed limit lowered. Coming to a stop at the next traffic light, Y’shtola’s mind wandered through different topics. She thought of the papers that needed to be graded still. The light changed and she rolled forward, the car’s rumble now echoing off the corridor of buildings.
“Mayhaps I should take up the offer for a TA… Grading papers is rather a chore. Though it does depend on the topic they’re writing on.”
One of the things Y’shtola loved about teaching was getting to see so many different perspectives and fresh ideas. Her courses were all three hundred and above level, so the overwhelming majority of students did in fact want to be there.
She came to a stop again, breaking from her thoughts to look around. Steam rose from manholes in the intersection. People crossed in front of the car, all mostly walking with purpose. She idly tapped on the steering wheel again, looking over at the traffic next to her. It was some unassuming delivery van, nothing interesting. Behind her was some sort of sedan, again nothing of note. Scholar’s Harbor wasn’t known for its car scene. It was a small city that mixed the pragmatic working class of a port with the unhinged actions of college students. Mix in a little mischief from the nearby base and every now and again you would see something interesting.
The light changed, and she proceeded forward. Glancing down at her instrumentation, she noted that the fuel had now dropped below half of capacity. Her little outburst from earlier hadn’t helped that.
Signaling to get into the right lane, she moved to turn down a side street. Even with the wide adoption of Ceruleum there were still varying qualities that could be had, and Y’shtola had already dealt with poor quality fuel once. One time was enough. There was a station owned by the Thanalan consortium AMSMOCO down this way, and they were known for high product quality.
Her thoughts drifted again, now thinking of projects back at home. She wanted to try a new sensor set in one of the pairs of eyes she had been working on. Y’sthola’s aethericaly infused sight had come a long way since she had to first start using it after the accident in her early twenties. She would have never imagined that she would be able to see well enough to pick out objects, let alone drive. It was thanks to the help of the staff at the Garlond Ironworks that things had come thus far. She had some new code and sensor sets from one of the staff members there to try. Maybe she could get someone over this weekend to watch cover while she did the change.
Focusing back on her surroundings, she signaled left and pulled into the station. Stopping with the pump on her right-hand side, she allowed the engine to idle for a moment to cool. Listening once more to the uneven rumble of the five-cylinder inline configuration, she reached over and grabbed her shoes, fastening them back on. Then reaching into the backseat, grabbing her coat and sliding it on. Shutting down the engine, she tapped the button to release the fuel door, and then leaned down to release the hood. Grabbing her wallet from her purse on the other seat, the Miqo’te got out of the car and walked around the back. Opening the fuel door and removing the cap with her left hand, she tapped her wallet against the reader with her right. The pump beeped in response, and she took the nozzle from its cradle, inserting it into the filler. Tapping the button for high test a few times, she engaged the pump and watched for a moment as the numbers began to count up. Opening the passenger side rear door, she took a pair of gloves from the door pocket, and a paper towel from the roll on the floor. She stepped around to the front, donning the gloves and opening the hood. Pulling the engine oil dipstick with one hand, she wiped it clean with the other. Inserting it back into the block and pulling it out. She looked closely at the end of it, nodding before sliding it back into the engine.
As she reached up to close the hood, the sound of a tinny flat four echoed off the buildings. She cringed for a moment. The dissatisfaction was short lived as she realized she had heard this engine before. She quickly closed the hood, discarding the paper towel in the trash next to the pump. Taking off the gloves and tossing them into the backseat she turned her attention back to the pump. It was still running. Why was it running so slowly?
“Come on… come on, come on!”
Her shoulders tensed up as the sound of the car got closer. Maybe if she didn’t look back, they would just drive past. No such luck. The WRX rolled into the station from the opposing direction, meaning it was facing her as it stopped at the pump on the opposing side. Two occupants got out, and one of them went to make for the store. They seemed to be engrossed in their Tomestone, and Y’sthola was thankful for that. The pump finally clicked off, and after confirming the numbers seemed right, she replaced it in its cradle and began screwing the fuel cap back on. A slight smirk as she thought she was going to get away scot-free when he stopped and looked at the car, then turned back towards his friend at the pump.
“Hey dude, DUDE! Come look at this! This was the car from earlier, that totally blew your doors off when you were racing with Arthenal!”
Another physical cringe as the gas cap clicked three times. She closed the fuel door, trying to not make eye contact. As Y’sthola turned to walk back around her car, the young Keeper Miqo’te called out to her again.
“Ayo…. Ms. Rhul? Is that you? Is this your car?”
She let out a heavy sigh, breath fogging her glasses for a moment. Hells berend. Of course they would come to this station. Of course they would recognize her. She put on her best professional smile and looked over at the young man. She jokingly put her hands up.
“What can I say, you got me. Good afternoon.”
The driver of the blue WRX had come around to join his friend, this one a younger male elezen. Y’shtola didn’t recognize either of them.
“Woah! I knew they had fun in Aetherology but not like this! Bro why didn’t you tell me your teacher had a cool car!?”
The miqo’te bapped his friend on the shoulders. “You think I knew? Besides, I’m not in any of Ms. Rhul’s classes right now. I’m taking 100 level aetheric suppression and identification from Mr. Corvos. But Mr. Corvos talks about Ms. Rhul’s classes all the time. He talks about Ms. Rhul all the time too.”
Y’shtola was steaming inside. She walked around to the front of the car, leaning on the fender.
“Oh, does he? I’ll have to have a chat with Mr. Corvos about proper departmental procedure.”
Both young men swallowed. The Elezen piped up. “Yeah, well if you rat on Ohmu’ra then I’ll rat on you for racing us!”
Y’shtola stood, closing the gap between her and the pair. “And if you wish to partake in a game of brinkmanship with me, I’ll not only report you to campus security for your activities on the parking deck, but I’ll make a recommendation to my friend at the licensing board to have your vehicle brought in for inspection! But nay, two wrongs do not make a right, so we won’t partake in that line of thinking any further, will we?”
The pair shook their heads. “No ma’am.”
“Good. Now since you caught me, yes this is my car. Yes, it’s fast. Yes, your car is slow. Any other questions?”
The Miqo’te piped up again, this time a bit sheepishly. “Can we hear it again? I couldn’t hear it well over Firmien’s car and that racket that Arthenal insists on making all the time.”
His compatriot turned to him “Dude! Crackle tunes are the shit, I don’t know why you complain about it all the time! My car is not slow, either!”
Y’shtola ignored that comment.
“Maybe it’s because unlike you who blasted all his hearing at shows in high school, I can still hear things!” Another push from the keeper to his elezen friend.
Y’shtola cracked a smile. “Ohmu’ra, was it?”
He looked down at Y’shtola. Even though he was taller by a fulm or so, he felt as if she was towering over him.
“Yes ma’am?”
“You’re in Mr. Corvos’ 100 level class? You recognize an obnoxious engine when you hear one. I think you just need some better company.”
“Ma’am?”
Y’shtola turned back to the door, swinging it open.
“I’m leaving now. If you want to listen, I can’t stop you.”
The elezen fumed at the indirect insult. He sulked back to his own car, tending to the fuel pump.
Ohmu’ra ran to the back of the station wagon. Y’shtola chuckled as she dropped back down into the seat and closed the door. Slotting the key into the ignition, she twisted it. The engine spun over two times before coming to life again with another roar, a bit of soot following. She could see the young Miqo’te’s face perk up in her mirror. Taking her jacket back off, she let the car idle for a moment. Ohmu’ra was still behind the car. She cracked another smile. He seemed genuinely interested. She gave a light tap on the pedal, getting a small rev out of the engine. A bit of turbine spool. The boy was grinning from cheek to cheek. She rolled down the passenger window, going into gear and pulling around the fuel island. She came to a stop next to the WRX. Ohmu’ra crossed over, standing next to his friend’s car.
“That sounds really nice. What engine is in it?”
Y’shtola leaned down to speak out the window. “Inline five, single turbo. Thank you. And boys?”
She narrowed her stare. “Speak of this to anyone and I will end your academic careers.”
Not waiting for a response, Y’shtola rolled up the window, pulled to the exit, and pulled out onto the street. She floored the accelerator, pulling away with a poof of soot, giving the young Miqo’te one last listen as she rolled into second.
Ohmu’ra was on cloud nine. “I need to take a class from her… Hey Firmien…?”
“What?”
“You think we’ll ever run into some of the other professors from the Lambda Lab like this? Some of those cars sound nice too.”
“Shut the hell up, Ohmu’ra.”