This week has been akin to a long rumble. You hear a lot about the proverbial calm before the storm, and it certainly makes sense as far as seafaring goes. But for landbound situation, proverb-inclined people don't give nearly enough traction, in my opinion, to the time before a storm where the thick carpet of black clouds is still rolling by, where the very skies seem to clear their throat before their thunderous opera, and where the air feels so heavy it might as well crush you... It sounds more distasteful than I feel about it. The anticipation and tension building in the air has this precious intensity to it.
It all started, in that regard, with drills. Not the ones in my hair, though they certainly have kept their shape so far, but training drills for the Maelstrom. I may not be part of the regular frontline contingent, my work as a consultant does extend to help train their soldiers. Training and teaching seem similar at first no doubt, but the practical aspects of reinforcing the knowledge instead of presenting new wisdom seems to have kept me safe enough so far. And in a battle situation, it's very much important to know how to do a thing instinctively, than to know how to do a great many things only by focusing, for calm, peace of mind and focus are among the first victims of any battles.
As of the time of writing, the events this drill is preparing the soldiers for have not been made public by the Maelstrom Admirality. As such, even though this log should not be made public by a time this will be a problem, I will refrain from commenting on operational details, and will instead either issue a correction with some possible redacted elements later, or group all operational information after the facts in a future entry.
The human aspect of this job is something that is, as a result, difficult to discuss in the details... But I do wonder a bit about these soldiers I trained. Do they think of me simply as this taskmaster? Do they look up to me? Is my somewhat distant position something unusual, expected? And should I change stance? It would make sense given my current little challenges and the logs thusly reported, but given the high danger of this situation... Maybe opening myself to people that might very well never return from a mission is too much of a risk, grim as it may sound. I do not think I have suffered too many losses in my life, but have met some who do. And for all the respect I owe to some of these, I hope I can delay for as long as I can this nostalgic glint, this permanent tinge of sadness, this extinguished relic of a light that adorn their eyes.
So anyway as I was musing these things the day after, I got a watermelon thrown at me. She did say "catch" first, and I did dodge, but yeah, it was a pretty weird encounter. I suppose some people feel like grabbing the attention of lone people pondering near the beach does them good. No matter the intent, I was somewhat cross, and having fallen in the cold coastal water after my dodge, a bit wet too, which added to my response. I was worried at first that I came at her a bit strong as a result, but then she kinda seemed to be into it and that escalated pretty quickly, to the point where I don't even know if that's plain weird, or if it's a common practice. Like, if I share my experience at a club, will the other party simply chuckle and say "Took you that long to get watermelonned? Ah, that's a classic trick"
Now that was a bit of a change of pace for certain. But to be fair, that girl had a way to make me forget about the looming world to focus on her instead, and I'm not sure I'm fully comfortable in the role of the stern, rigid woman hellbent on dishing out punishment and the likes. It was fun in context, very much so, but also kind of draining. The unexpected nature of that encounter probably didn't help either. Still, no regrets there.
After that, I'd say most of my week was spent preparing for the Maelstrom operation one way or another, or for the conference at the Ishgardian Scholasticate that will come right after. It's of course not ideal to devote some of my time to these acts that do not further my current researches. But, it's more than a single-minded social interaction study after all. In fact, making it single-minded would invalidate it. If my aim is to "get a life" to simplify, I need more than to have the freedom to enjoy it in ideal conditions, because, let's be honest, these ideal conditions are hardly ever there. And so, finding the ability to balance income and outgoings, business and pleasure, focus and fun, projects and spontaneity, is a heavy part of this deal.
A few days later, I made plans to attend another evening of partying. A different place had this pink-themed night, and after some searches through my cupboards, I found a suitable-enough outfit that dates all the way back to a Little Ladies' Day charity drive a few days ago, if memories serves well. Point being, I didn't have many alternative, and it felt like it'd be straightforward enough. Go there, enjoy the party, voila. Which is, of course, when my door got kicked open by the Dumonds.
Now, no lock was broken or anything, the kick was more for effect since the door was previously unlocked. These two do make quite a pair in that respect. Still, it's funny. If anyone else entered this way, with their tone, I probably would have taken the nearest magical focus and start unleashing the power of the void to destroy all in my path. Defensively. But there is a complicity built up that let me know, even when their tone wouldn't, that things were going to be okay.
Turns out the crux of the situation was that the Dumond that last visited my laboratory reported the events of the evening in a more sensual and intimate way than how they really happened, and egged her wife on. Maybe seeing her jealous rush of passion was one way she gets reassured on the strength of their love, or maybe she just finds it all hilarious. I certainly would prefer not being a reoccurring victim of their games however, if at all possible.
Still, after the initial shock, the rest of the encounter was pleasant enough. I had this hot cocoa I was promise, even though it was at their home, rather than at a fancy place. We talked aquariums, pastries, and military organization, along many other topics I may have forgot along the way. And while I had my encounters with each of them separately, seeing how they play off each other in this expert blend of private dialogue, slight tension and playful displays makes me happy for them and what they have.
Since the encounter only took so long, I did come to my evening party next after. It was a bit late already, and while I skipped on the early phase where the place fills up, most of the evening seemed to have a bit of a quieter scene. Some of it was probably due to the way the place was organized, a bit more decentralized, with two bars across three floors, as many main scenes, couches on a half-floor and the likes. Still, this doesn't mean the evening was quiet by any means.
First thing first was the fact I met familiar faces. The "Seat Thief" as I so dubbed him last time, certainly was looking a bit softer dressed in pink. We've crossed paths every now and then. I'm certain that he would have been fine with just my company for all the evening, even though he knows my interest, at this juncture, lie in the fairer sex, but still appears to have this very focused way of keeping up a conversation that need to have some ways to halt it. It's not so much that he wouldn't take no for an answer, thankfully. But he needs to be told that no in no uncertain terms. In these situations, I am pretty happy to be able to place these limits and think of myself, as I imagine many a person could, when faced with those people, take it until the rupture point.
My dancing game absolutely did not improve. And for that matter, my approaching game didn't fare that much better. I did hold a couple of conversations with interested parties, such as these two highlanders or that highly stylish Miqo'te that was absolutely not in theme but I didn't even mind. I also pushed for a little bit of rivalry between the two bars, which ended with the place's owner coming up with a cocktail now bearing my name. A full course in fact with an appetizer, a unique blend of faraway liquors, and a shaved ice desert. I thought at first that she was just pulling my leg, but later heard by accident that she was indeed calling this new item the Nanami Blast to other customers too. For a first timer at that play, I'd say that's not a bad achievement...
Anyway, I got way too drunk in spite of my early attempts at moderation. What was I supposed to do? NOT take a cocktail named after me even after all the other drinks I've drunk? And so I ended the evening napping against the outer enclosure of the place for a couple of hours, before I could get my bearings and return home to spend the rest of the night. Not my most dignified moment, perhaps, but not a bad night either. Sometimes, it's fine to just come back having been entertained, even without a stand for that one night. I am after all in search of fun, social relationships and meaningful partnerships, which is very different from being a sex-starved floozy.
Most recently, after a day's rest, I remembered some of miss Dumond's concerns about my laboratory's ill welcoming nature. And while my plan to avoid any sort of bed stands, I did consider that I had maybe a few too many couches and armchairs home, and not enough there at the lab. And so I took it upon myself, as a last act before writing this log entry, and going to the Maelstrom operation, to move some furniture. But of course, aethernet-based travel doesn't really work for these, and so I took the long road. Well, the ferry followed by the long road more accurately, with Anthy, my trusty chocobo handling most of the heavy load, and frequent pauses because my poor legs can only take so much.
On one of those pauses, near the frontier between Thanalan and the Black Shroud, I had a chance encounter with a strange, heavy-accented duskwright, Mr. Leaurant. A traveler himself, he appeared intrigued by the vision of a lone Au'ra sitting on a fully featured armchair in the middle of nowhere. To be fair, I probably would be. Talking with him certainly helped prepare my thoughts in preparation to this very log, and I suspect it should have fewer revisions as a result. Concerned and friendly in equal measures, it was a charming encounter, and one that might bring me closer to my objectives as well.
Indeed, Mr. Leaurant appears to have been in contact with a Viera dancer that could feasibly teach me, and I gave him my addresses so that he may put us into contact, once I return from my duties, and the Ishgardian conference after. I do hope she will be able to not merely describe the motions of a dance, but also their reasons. I find that I learn better when I know what led something to be the way it is, after all. After enough time to feel as rested as I'd be that day, we shared drinks, and I returned to my path towards the Lavender Beds.
Seeing things through the lens of these studies and the present logs is certainly an interesting perspective. Measured, get timed, dedicated, yet having to be open to what comes, it is a careful balancing act I probably make more mistakes in that I realize at this point. It's not dissimilar to reminding someone to breathe. They are most likely doing it already, but paying attention to it changes how it comes out. I travel on occasion, not necessarily to move furniture around, but chance meetings still happen. Would I have dismissed it were it not for my current activities? Will I change course once Valentione comes and goes? It's like deciding to act natural. It is at the same time important and self-defeating. But well, as long as I don't randomly break the flow of a critical military operation to tell Admiral Bloefhiswyn some corny one-liner about her eyes, I should be fine.
