Chapter Text
Gaia always seemed to learn new things when she was with Ryne. From the big things - how to fight, how to care, how to love, how to live - to daily minutiae - baking, knife maintenance, and petting shoebills. Scarcely a day went by without her horizons expanding. Today's long-awaited excursion to Amaurot hoped to be every bit as enlightening.
Right now, Gaia was learning about seasickness.
"Don't you know," she panted between gulps of bile, "the fae word for 'gently'?"
"It wasn't like this the last time…" Ryne said, holding Gaia steady as Bismarck tore through the ocean.
This was Gaia's own fault, in a way. She was the one who suggested adding a stop at Anamnesis Anyder on their trip to the conjured Amaurot. If they were going to learn more about the city, its place in the unsundered world, and what life was like for the people there, what better place than an archive? So they'd left at sunrise to impose on the giant whale once more, and Gaia was never gladder to have skipped breakfast.
Any perception of the outside world whizzing past threatened to send her over the edge, so Gaia's attention instead turned inward, reciting their goals for the trip as if a ritual. One, seek out archival knowledge that might assist with restoring the Empty. This is where their current detour would likely be more fruitful - ancient knowledge of hardy plant life, harsh climates, or environmental aetherology could all be useful. Two, explore the phantom city. That one would have to wait for later anyway, and besides, thinking too much about underwater architecture made her dizzy again. Three, learn more about Loghrif and Mitron's lives.
Her tentative desire for the last one, frankly, had surprised even herself. It was little more than year since she'd turned down knowledge of her Eulmorean life to look towards the future, and she never once regretted it. But as time marched on, her heart warmed at those older journal entries of early memories with Ryne more and more. Perhaps she felt a little more willing to understand Mitron and Loghrif's past now that she knew what it was like to have one worth remembering.
The great whale's bellow announcing their arrival shook her back to reality. Gaia clutched Ryne tighter as they both fought to stay standing.
"Gods, you're in rough shape… should we wait here?" Ryne asked worriedly.
"Smells like rotting fish," Gaia gasped. "Inside." Ryne nodded with intense concern, but still helped Gaia walk forward and away from their ride towards the imposing facility looming ahead.
Had I been in their shoes, what would I say about her?
Gaia tapped her quill on the blank journal page, its ink long dry as she fruitlessly turned the question over in her head for the twentieth time today. To her right, the subject of Gaia's thoughts was furiously scribbling away in her own tome - a sight Gaia was still getting used to. After a wildflower had bloomed in Eden that Ryne had not seen before, she began dabbling in botanical drawing as a means to better coordinate restoration plans with the Hortorium. Void-related aetherological testing with Beq Lugg and Unukalhai had kept them far too busy for Ryne to continue pursuing her botanical work, but she'd packed her supplies for today's expedition to Anamnesis Anyder just in case they learned anything worth visually documenting, and here they were an hour later.
"Twas at the end of my stay in Limos that I chanced upon a most curious specimen."
The holographic recording continued its ceaseless march in front of her as the white-haired woman paced back and forth, excitedly sharing some such discovery from a voyage had lost Gaia's interest long ago. Instead her attention focused on Ryne and her diligent work in progress, hidden from Gaia's view. That's how it always was with them, wasn't it? Her beacon of radiant light come to pull her from the darkest depths, be they mortal peril or mere boredom. Such a lingering view was a growing rarity as of late with Ryne's restlessness, so Gaia seized the opportunity to simply admire her partner at (comparative) rest. Button nose scrunched adorably, eyes like sapphires reflecting the room's eerie glow, tongue poking out in concentration (a fact Gaia mentally filed away for later teasing). Did watching Gaia write leave Ryne's heart this full, too?
"'Dionaea', as my host called it, was a concept like naught I'd seen before - even in Elpis."
Gaia herself had suggested a stop during their trip to the conjured Amaurot to learn more about the city, its place in the unsundered world, and what life was like for the people there. The lives of Loghrif and Mitron were particular subjects of interest, of course, but the question that wormed its way into her mind as the day approached gave her pause. She'd spent all of today in limbo awaiting any information, but all they had found was a wealth of ancient botanical lore frustratingly scattered in Venat's whimsical travel logs. If only we'd gotten Y'shtola's instructions directly, instead of via a game of whisperweeds…
"Its leaves, a vibrant maroon in hue, appear bisected as if hinged, and possess the ability to snap shut on insects or other small creatures like a spring trap. I inquired-"
Gaia's transfixion on Ryne was broken when it hit her that the ostensible subject of interest hadn't garnered even a moment of Ryne's notice. "Ryne… are you even listening anymore?"
"What?" Ryne's voice cracked an octave. "Oh, uh, of course! Venat said she saw a vibrating insect in spring, right?"
"So no, then," Gaia scoffed, pushing herself out of her chair. "What are you even doodling?"
Ryne's reluctance to smudge the ink slowed her defenses enough for Gaia to nudge closer. "Oh gods, don't look, it's not good…" A blush quickly rose to Gaia's face as she pored over the sketch of herself writing. It had a perhaps crude visage, but surprisingly detailed hair, draped lovingly down her shoulders with two locks framing the face.
"Dummy." She flicked Ryne's forehead and crossed her arms in a huff. "Don't forget, you were the one that wanted to keep playing the logs about exotic flora for your research. If I'm distracting you, I'll simply take a walk until you're done."
"No, you needn't do that. Let's find some of the records you wanted."
A knot twisted in Gaia's stomach. "Come, we're both overdue for a break. It's not as if this place is going anywhere."
They opted to journey out towards the edge of the air bubble for a change in scenery, rather than stay in the building. As they sat side by side on a rock outcropping overlooking the ocean. Gaia nibbled her sandwich - she had picked ovim and cheese, Ryne had gone with peanut butter and jelly - and finally took in the sights she was too queasy to observe earlier.
Objectively, this was not an aesthetically beautiful place. Metal rusted, seaweed rotted, and it was all Gaia could do to keep down her lunch if she ever made the mistake of inhaling near the dankest crevasses. Still, there was something she found bewitching about this intersection of preservation and decay twice over. A site of research, filled with hundreds if not thousands of years of research and ambition and achievement, reduced to little more than a scaffold for barnacles. But with Bismarck's breath, these too became phantoms, empty coral reefs finding strange kinship with desiccated test tubes.
It was not all lifeless, of course. The Ancients' magic had preserved most of the facility's functionality, even managing to keep some plant life thriving. Some heartier kelp and mosses continued thriving in puddles with only artificial lighting for sustenance. And outside the bubble, the ocean went on as if naught was amiss.
"You've been quiet today." Ryne mumbled mid-bite and nudged Gaia out of her stupor. They were sitting side by side on a rock outcropping that functioned as an adequate table and chairs, looking out into the ocean.
"Have I?"
"My Gaia would've teased me tenfold more for that drawing." Gaia laughed, but it didn't make it to her eyes and they both knew it. "Gil for your thoughts?"
Gaia's defenses always crumbled at that half-inquisitive-half-mopey look of Ryne's. "All of the recordings we've found today are quite... impersonal, aren't they? We've yet to hear even a single word about their personal lives."
Ryne tapped her chin. "Mhm."
"I had hoped to discover something about the actual people who'd lived here, and not just a laundry list of curiosities and research minutiae," Gaia muttered dejectedly.
"In all fairness, this is a scientific research hub," Ryne shrugged with a mouth full of bread.
"You think I don't know that?" Gaia snapped more harshly than she had intended, and shrunk. "Ugh, you're right, it's stupid of me to have expected it."
"I'd never say that. I'm just wondering what kindled this curiosity for the Ancients' personal lives."
"I started journaling for the sake of preserving my memories. So those who come after might have a chance to know of what came before in a way I - we - were so often denied. I'm worried if I'm up to the task."
"Ah… Well, if it's your writing you're worried about, I think it's wonderful!"
"It's not about that. Chronicling events, be they daily life or fantastical fiction, became easy enough with practice, but planning our trip here made me dwell on the… ephemeral. My whims, my idle thoughts, my innermost feelings. The things that aren't so easily left behind."
"I wasn't expecting something quite this..."
"Sappy? That was your doing, dummy." Gaia crossed her arms and huffed. "It felt simple to say to Mitron that passing on memories was enough, but the more I get to really live a life for the first time with you, and the Crystarium, and all of Norvrandt… I understand his fears just a little bit more."
"Gaia… " Ryne trailed off into a long pause. "So what you hoped to find was about Loghrif and Mitron?"
"No… yes? I don't know. We met a version of Mitron and learned of his relationship with Loghrif, and that's why any memory of them survives at all. I know memories are fated to fade away, but… I want to find the original Mitron's record to compare, and to learn what would've been preserved without our meeting. To find inspiration to do better myself, and pass down the best legacy I can when I'm gone."
"I hope you're not planning on leaving anytime soon," Ryne gently teased.
Not for the rest of our lives, Gaia thought, but instead just shakes her head with a scoff. "Of course not, but I can't help but feel existential in a place like this."
"You know, this got me thinking about Minfilia. The original one. Thancred barely told me anything about her for years. Even after meeting her, and learning more about her… I can't even say I know much about her day to day life. But she still inspired me to hope, and to live, and to be the light that inspires others in turn." Ryne leaned back and stared out through the bubble, towards the sky far above. "What was it you said after everything with Eden? That you wanted to help others achieve their dreams, right? Your memories can inspire a dream worth chasing in the first place, too."
Leave it to Ryne to always know how to light the way when Gaia felt lost in the dark. She blinked away a building tear. "Who's the sappy one now?"
They enjoyed the quiet, steady comfort of each other's presence for a few moments until Ryne hesitantly spoke up again. "Do you want to go back inside and start looking again?"
"I'm fine now," Gaia responded with a gentle smile and a squeeze of Ryne's hand. "We've come this far, it would still be nice to learn more."
"I'm not sure we'll find anything, though. The Ancients didn't seem inclined to prioritize odes to their beloved in these archives," Ryne said, taking the last few bites of her sandwich.
"Their loss, it would liven the place up. More of them should have doodled their beloved in their research notes," Gaia said with a mischievous grin - her first genuine one all day.
Ryne recoiled in embarrassment, covering her face with her hand, then yelped again as this smeared strawberry jelly all over her cheeks. Gaia laughed so hard she almost knocked over the whole basket of food. Even after helping Ryne clean herself up, her embarrassed blush was about the same hue as the jelly itself, which she hid in Gaia's shoulder with a grumpy hug.
This was the heart of it, in the end. This life with Ryne, filled with such fleeting moments of warmth and laughter, was what made Gaia herself. No words could ever feel sufficient for all Ryne meant to her, but if the tales of their silly joys and epic struggles could help someone feel worthy of life they felt they didn't deserve, or stand up for themselves against someone trying to control them, or lead some far-flung future Gaia to their own Ryne… that legacy would be testament enough.