This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
He must have said something right because just as oddly as Scylla had been acting a moment before, she’d calmed and composed herself. That regal air she usually held with him. That hint of demand to her voice.
Usually, this would have irked him. But this time, Amon listened to the words rather than the tone.
His eyebrows lifted and his eyes flicked over to the device. There, just as she said was her family seal upon some of the age-old metal. The seal that signified this material had been salvaged from her father’s workshop. It had once belonged to his mentor’s lab.
How had he not noticed it before?
He’d been so caught up in his calculations and focused on how the pieces fit together. Whether they still worked. If this would work at all. He’d not seen the details.
“Ah… well… aye,” the Elezen admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He was still at a loss for words, which was unusual for him. “I guess I hadn’t really noticed. I was pretty focused on…”
He flipped the parchment and notebook open, leaning it slightly towards her. It contained a sketch for the device’s concept and all kinds of scribbled notes and calculations around it.
In times past, he would have never chanced show one of his designs to any living Allagan. For fear of stolen ideas. Fear of being upstaged. Fear of having his own creations used against him.
But this wasn’t Allag anymore, was it? And this was Scylla… someone he’d known since childhood. It wasn’t like she could do anything… aside from destroy his work… and…
He started to get a little anxious about that train of thought, and quickly flicked the notebook back to his chest, closing it.
Scylla had started to read at the notes, squinting at the tracings and diagrams, only to find the book shut in her nose.
“Hey! What was the meaning of that?” The healer pulled at the notebook at his chest with a frown, before giving up and putting her hands on her hips.
“Look, Amon… I’m not going to force you. But if you expect to get through this, we’re going to need to do something we haven’t done in a few thousand years.”
She put her palm out in front of her, as if to receive the book.
Amon reached to grab his notes back, a motion borne of pure fearful reflex, “Don’t… don’t… I spent all month on… I have no time!”
Then he paused, the sounds of Scylla’s last words translating to words in his ears.
“W-we?” the Elezen stammered. Despite all of his desire to cover the anxiety that welled in him, he just wasn’t able to muster enough energy to cover it with his usual calm mask. Instead, he echoed, “Cooperate?”
He found himself doing something strange and out of character. He slowly withdrew, allowing Scylla to have access to his notes. That’s when he realized how badly his hands were shaking. “Are you saying that you intend to assist me, Princess?”
“No… I think not.”
Scylla looked at him, taking the notebook from his hand and putting out on the desk, keeping her eyes on Amon before turning her head to the scribbled notes.
“I intend for you to assist me.” Scylla said in an uppity tone as she flicked through the pages. “I have been charged with your health issues, by the authority of Gridania.”
Amon’s ramblings were as if looking back in time… part of the writings were in the old Allag script, others in a more scratchy Eorzean lettering. His notes were frantically written, reminding her back when they were forced to work together as students thousands of years before.
“Amon… how do you expect anyone to read this?” Scylla groaned and brushed her hair, squinting at the writing. “Who ever knew that your handwriting could get any worse?”