Menapa and the Magic – Day 5
Every time that her father took her into Limsa, the city smelled like fried fish. That was no surprise of course, but Menapa still loved it. The salty air from the ocean, the warm cooking drifting on the breeze, and the shouts of the sailors unloading and loading the ships (the big ships, not those dinky rowboats) always excited her.
She held her father’s hand as her face jerked to each new sight. “It’s been forever since I’ve been here, daddy!” she squeaked, watching a fishwife rinse a half-fileted fish in a bucket of water.
Her father chuckled, “It’s only been a couple of weeks, daughter,” he told her while only barely glancing down at her. Instead, he led her through the crowd with his eyes forward.
“I know! Forever!” she cried, giving a little hop for emphasis.
Their footsteps on the rocks were lost in the occasional pealing of a ship’s bell, the calls of the merchants, and bellowing back and forth between meaty dock workers.
Limsa structured itself on the defensible pillars of Hydaelyn, natural rock formations that speared out of the ocean. Buildings were building into the sides, tops, and hung from them. The sea salt, carried on the wind, bleached the stone white. Bridges were erected from pillar to pillar to facilitate the growth of the city, and from a distance, backlit from the sun, it took the appearance of a fisherman’s net.
Wirvan’s goal lay high and closer to the Lominsan Island than the rest of the city. The Arcanists’ guild may not dwell as much on the sea as the rest of its people, but it would be unwise to tell them that. They were Lominsans, made up from the pirates and natives that were rumored to have crawled straight from the sea centuries ago.
The entry was placed past a tunnel and down a set of stairs, with an abrupt right turn into a tall wooden carved door. After a small square foyer, the space opened into a gigantic room with a towering ceiling. An entire pillar of Hydaelyn was dedicated to their guild and they took up all the space, crammed with books on high shelves and quiet people. It was dim after the bright sunlight outside, and the small windows high above them didn’t seem to let in enough light.
Not a head looked up when then entered, save for a seated, bespectacled woman. She brusquely slammed her book shut upon noticing them and ratcheted a smile onto her face that grew with each step closer. “Look at you!” she crooned to the little girl, before she looked up to the father.
“Hi!” Menapa replied with a carefree wave.
“I’d like to speak to someone about—“ Wirvan started, but he was interrupted.
“I know!” the woman exclaimed, hopping off her stool and exiting the small desk she sat behind. “Your little girl just summoned her first carbuncle, am I right? Where is it? You did bring it didn’t you? It’s very important to bring your first because their temperaments can be flitting things, and dedication is paramount—“
“No, she didn’t summon…that…whatever that is,” he huffed, his eyebrows meeting together to display his irritation. “We need advice.”
The woman looked a little crestfallen. “Well I’m glad you just didn’t forget to bring it.”
“I used nature!” Menapa puffed her chest out, planting her hands on her hips, and showing a full, bright smile with all her teeth.
“Nature?” the woman cocked her head, “The Arcanists don’t deal with nature. You’ll have to go to Gridania for that. She’s a conjurer. I should have seen it from the start. The cutest little conjurer, I’ve ever seen!” she crowed, putting her hands on her knees and smiling at the little girl, who somehow smiled even wider.