Chapter Text
The haphazardly repaired magitek fan buzzed throughout all corners of the room. It was as if a minuscule diremite had got stuck inside of it and had begun to die.
For D'rena, however, the buzzing was of all small matter in comparison to the heat. Apparently, renovating the Ironworks workshop to have any actual temperature regulation was beyond the awareness of the absent-minded Cid, and thus, everyone was forced to work through the blazing warmth of the levin months.
On top of the battered mechanical fan, probably salvaged from some scrapheap in Garlemald, D'rena had taken to arming herself with a little paper fan — made out of the very same paper she was supposed to be making technical sketches with. But at this point, innovation could wait if she could stave off the heat.
D'rena's mind wasn't exactly in the framework for creativity today either. As much as she wanted to be gleefully tinkering away at new weaponry, her mind was elsewhere. The Moonfire Faire, to be specific.
Although the event itself was a few days from now, D'rena was very much looking forward to it. Sometimes her days spent away from the continent, or her consistent workaholism and now semi-loyalty to the Garlond Ironworks, had made her forget the fun-filled and silly events that often paraded across the region. She felt as if she hadn't seen the Costa Del Sol in forever, let alone the Moonfire Faire.
The seafoam waves lapped against the golden sands, the bright red stalls dazzled with all manner of lights and lanterns, little icy desserts filled with a variety of fruits, warm crunchy corn with melted cheeses and butter. And in the shadow of the evening, a kaleidoscope of fireworks takes the place of the stars.
But considering this was Cid Garlond's Ironworks (run by a man who could hardly keep track of the time), D'rena did not anticipate being freed from the workshop for the Faire.
Mayhaps signing that contract that allowed her access to better explosives wasn't worth these terms in the end?
No bigger firearms were worth being trapped inside during summer, at least; that's how the fatigued D'rena saw her circumstances at present. She wiped her slightly watery eyes and another drip of sweat from her brow, grabbing her drinking bottle and taking a sip as she stared down at what felt like mindless work. She was very much close to falling asleep at the desk; the humid dusky haze of the afternoon made taking a nap an incredibly tempting prospect, especially for a Miqo'te such as herself.
Her head was already on the table. She could just shut her eyes and pretend that she wasn't in the Ironworks building at all. She could pretend that she was warming her fur in actual sunlight and not just trapped within the dingy metallic walls of the workshop.
It was just at the emergence of this sunny daydream that D'rena sensed that someone was poking her. Repeatedly.
She drew her head up from the desk, pushing her white hair streaks from her eyes. D'rena turned around with a snap. She found herself staring straight in the face of Nero Scaeva.
Or Nero tol Scaeva as he ever so insisted. One of the most irritating members of the entire Ironworks (and that was really saying something) but by the Twelve, was his face not one of the most kissable too.
"Well, doesn't someone look bored out of their brain?" Nero jested.
D'rena bashed her hand against his head lightly in response. "What do you want of me now?"
Nero was often about being the embodiment of annoyance toward many of the Ironworks members. Informing them of even the most minor of technical mistakes or even tacky aesthetic design decisions. But when it came to D'rena, Nero wouldn't always come just to whine and complain as he did with the others, but it appeared that actually, Nero just wanted to talk with D'rena.
D'rena was unsure what to make of his strange semi-friendliness. What even was his intent here? Did he think she was worth a discussion, or did he just want to mess with her even harder? Or had he grown envious at D'rena's status as the Warrior of Light?
"Well, while you were following Cid's workshop rules so duly, I've made a little creation of my own. Something that might help us escape this disgusting summer heat," Nero's voice lowered to a near whisper, "And it's something that I don't want Cid to know about!"
"It's not about to explode, is it?" D'rena scoffed.
Nero looked positively offended. "What is it with you Eorzeans and lack of trust?" Nero shrugged, then continued. "No, it will not explode. That's not why I'm barring Garlond from taking a peak. You see, what I've made is supposed to be impossible."
He had to be joking at this point.
But D'rena was just so incredibly bored, working through this haze. Plus, Nero's stupid invention might have just been shocking enough to keep her a little awake. D'rena felt as if she was willing to entertain him and his engineering-based flight of fancy.
"I'll buy that when I see it," D'rena replied.
"Hmph. Then be prepared to make a metaphorical purchase to the tol Scaeva enterprises."
"I want to bet I won't!" She smirked as she spoke.
D'rena pulled herself away from her desk, abandoning the minimal work that she had been able to complete for the day and trailed behind Nero. The sheer height difference between her fairly average Miqo'te frame and his ridiculously lanky Garlean one dawned on her. It was almost as if she disliked being so short, or mayhaps she thought Nero just deserved to be shorter.
Nero triumphantly threw the door open to the messy area that Cid Garlond had (regretfully) handed over to him.
D'rena was made to wade through any number of cogs and wrenches that Nero had not yet been bothered to clear up. Nero himself, by contrast, glided through his workspace, being very likely already used to the sheer amount of mess that he left in his wake.
Nero had taken to standing in front of his newfangled machine. Looked like some kind of transportation device you'd find in Garlemald. Some seats, a bunch of wheels and buttons. ' Budget Warmachina ' was an image that came to mind. Despite D'rena's only rough understanding of general Garlean cultural norms when it comes to vehicle safety, the general impression it gave off was shoddy. Unless D'rena was missing something, it looked exactly like something you'd throw together in the middle of a sleepy afternoon beyond your better judgement.
Though shoddy it was, Nero had obviously not skimped out of the paint. Red paint — Nero must have owned tons of the stuff. D'rena was anticipating the man running around and painting the entire Ironworks red (including Cid's face, in fact, he probably would have very much liked to have painted Cid's face red.) He had also stuck fiery decals all over the frame and even on the cover part, which D'rena assumed the users of this device were supposed to be able to see out of.
How much time had he spent on the actual device compared to how long he had smothered the obnoxious paint on top of it?
"This, hero, in the mark XIV cross-dimension reconbobulater," Nero remarked, slapping the side of the lacklustre machine.
"Wait? XIV, like fourteen? This is your fourteenth attempt?" D'rena asked, arms folded.
"And your issue is?"
D'rena's face contorted. She could have sworn she saw a piece of metal fall from the top. "No reason."
"I'd thought you'd be congratulating me for doing so much in such a short time frame. With so few prototypes at that." Nero huffed. "Someone really should teach this damned engineering collective some manners."
"Cross-dimension reconbobulater, you say?" The Miqo'te fained interest. "The description is rather vague; what does it do exactly?"
"Finally, you're asking the right questions! You are aware that this star has been separated into different shards, correct?"
"Painfully aware."
"As you would be, hero. Well, from that explanation, I also imagine you can gather that I have found a way to travel between shards."
"Unlikely. Only through great effort did G'raha Tia find a way to call others to the first. Did you call me here to show me a mockery of his work?"
Nero spluttered. "Excuse me? A mockery? I care little for your opinions on that red-haired friend of yours that you refuse to shut up about. But what I am showing you here is a real and genuine way to travel between shards."
"Okay then, which ones?" D'rena demanded.
Nero stepped back. His arrogant veneer dropped for a moment. "Any of them?"
D'rena raised an eyebrow and repeated his tone with all its inflexions, " Any of them?"
"Yes, any of them. Are you questioning my abilities now? Someone with so many more years of tinkering experience than just you?"
"No, I mean, does this include the rejoined ones? You know, the ones that have been drowned, burnt to a crisp or submerged in darkness?"
"Absolutely."
"So you'd really risk such an invention flying off into one of the seven hells just like that, Nero? I thought you weren't one to waste time."
"Hey, it's doing its job, unlike half of the riff-raff in this building. Which is the most important thing."
"But have you seen it do its job yet?"
"Not quite, but that's why I called you here. If I am aware of your travels to these other realms almost, yes? Well, as aware one might be when given no prior information on the matter. That's why I thought that D'rena Fahl, hero of this world, secondary member of the Ironworks, would fancy testing this new machine alongside myself. Or are you so afraid to take a risk for science?"
"Me?! Use that ridiculous thing?" D'rena snapped, kicking the device with a tap of her foot. She swore that she heard something inside of it shaking, breaking.
"I assure you it's perfectly safe and probably won't launch us into an airless waterworld. For the most part. But you are the Warrior of Light, are you not? I suspect you could get us out of any trouble if we were to incur it. Plus, I myself have all manners of gadgets at my disposal. I do not anticipate that we will fall under any mishaps, but in the exceedingly rare case that we may, then we are incredibly well prepared, are we not?"
Using Nero's weird supposed shard travelling mecha (that, from the looks of it, was really only fit for one person) on the face of it sounded like a dreadful idea. That's not to say that D'rena wasn't excited by the prospect of travelling to other shards but travelling alongside Nero? D'rena wasn't sure she trusted Nero with the washing up, let alone shard travel.
D'rena could have said no. It would have been easy for her to say no. It would have been easy for D'rena to go back to tinkering with random objects and eventually napping all day in the scorching heat. Gone back to waiting for the days to go by cooped up in the workshop.
Or they could go on a wacky yet painful adventure into a potentially horrifying location alongside Nero Scavea of all people. It was a far less boring option for miles.
D'rena had nothing to look forward to for days until the Moonfire Faire hit. It was going to be tedium, and that was assuming she'd get a chance to see the Faire at all! His almighty, the chief of the Ironworks, probably didn't even think the celebration was real.
This gave D'rena a decision to make. Did she want to waste the day away fulfilling her Ironworks contract to the letter, or did she want to use her heroic abilities for what they were made for? Did she actually want to make use of her time?
Teaching Nero a lesson or two about carelessness would certainly be a good use of her time and her abilities as the warrior, wouldn't it? Also, his face was still miserably, distractedly kissable.
"You could say we are prepared. But now I must question your so-called preparedness. What if we end up in, say, the thirteenth like we did prior? How am I to stop you from turning bright purple again?" D'rena said, her tone non-serious.
"I'm sure you'll come up with something, won't you, hero?" Nero laughed; his sunglasses flashed as he suddenly kneeled down beside the fake-car contraption. "That is, I am to trust you with my life on this one. So, do you want to go on a trip or not? Or am I to wander these shards alone?"
D'rena's eyes narrowed. "I suppose I'm not really doing anything today," she half-lied.
Minutes later ( which felt like hours), the two of them, D'rena and Nero, had bundled themselves into the car-thing. Crossing their arms and huddled to gain as much personal space as possible. D'rena could smell Nero's sweat-drenched form. Gross.
"So what now?" D'rena asked.
With the small amount of room left to him, Nero poked a button with the tip of his fingernail. And then another.
"What was the last of the combination again?"
Well, it was Nero's own damn fault he chose to make all the buttons red.
"Ah, of course, third right, second left, far left. That's the ignition code!"
Nero pushed past D'rena to slam the final button. Causing her to hug up against the glass and steel.
"Are we ready?" He said, a massive grin plastered across his face.
"As I'll ever be," D'rena said.
Nero cackled. The sort of cackle D'rena remembered him doing back in his Empire days or whenever he was besting Cid at something. Either way, it wasn't a good sign.
D'rena held onto the sides of the container, even though she cognitively knew that such a thing would not prevent her from being obliterated by the G-force or by Nero plunging headfirst into a volcano.
The world around her started to shift. Colours of grey and brown merged across plains. It bled forth a spiral or kaleidoscope of dreary lights. It was as if the pathway to this new place was tearing itself open like a rip in the lifestream itself.
Acceleration.