Faerie's Lantern: Slow News Moon

What's a girl to do when the news isn't flowing? Become a flower girl.

You, dear reader, may have noticed this issue of the paper came out later than we typically publish. Senior Editor Mikoso Yumitori and I had long conversations about potentially not even publishing until after A Feast Reborn so there was more to fill pages. Maybe that would've been wise, but I was already dissatisfied with our delay this moon. I also discussed with reporter Maxe Sahashin at length about running full articles on some of her rumors but I didn't want to publish hundreds of words of pure speculation.

What put these headwinds against our third issue? Simply, the date. The Fifth Astral Moon is often a time for Eorzea in particular to catch its breath. There's a good reason for that, and you'll notice we spilled a lot of ink on that reason. Still, to simply restate it: this month is The Rising. It's a time of both mourning and renewal for Eorzea, where our offices are located. Contrary to my frustrations as an editor of a newspaper, a lot is happening this moon - it just is in the personal reflections and growth of individuals. 

Could I check back in on the Synchronos arrest? The new dangerous drug in the Brume? Sure, but with neither of those situations meaningfully changing in the last thirty-two days it doesn't seem like there'd be much to say. And our next issue will be full to bursting thanks to events like A Feast Reborn, the upcoming Re-Imagineers play, and All Saints' Wake. But this issue? Three wasn't the charm.

And that's okay. As one of my mentors, Maxe did prepare me for this moment. Some moons are just slower. Some moons, there's a little less to say. While we're a global publication, we're also a young publication. We still have to prove ourselves to get the kind of access Ul'dah's Mythril Eye or Alexandria's News Channel 9 have. Committed as I am to original reporting, we've also not subscribed to the wire services of our more established competitors. 

Which is all well and good, but between stressful conversations about getting to print this moon, what was an intrepid reporter to do?

Anyone who is married can tell you that a long and happy life is built upon millions of small compromises. Do we visit her mother or mine for Starlight? Do we really need this painting of Hildibrand Manderville? Am I making Turali for dinner again? How you litigate these everyday moments is the secret sauce to a good marriage, and the eternal bond between Andy Forcina and I is spectacular. My advice: never dig in your heels, always choose the battles that actually matter to you, and remember that your love is more important than anything else. 

So, I spent this moon as a flower girl. Not euphemistically, though I have a hell of a pedigree in sex work with my mother being Andromeda Laruzedah. No, instead I worked at my wife's flower shop. One of those million compromises of marriage happened when I got the keys to our office in Ul'dah a little more than a moon before our first issue. My wife, Andy Forcina, is a florist. As much as I needed a space for reporters to work and to interview sources for our articles, she needed a place to grow and sell her flowers that wasn't a tiny rental. So, we compromised. 

Our offices in Ward 29, Plot 8 in the Mateus neighborhood of the Goblet are not only the Black Chocobo Courier (and our personal residence) but the headquarters of Ruby's Garden Floristry, named for our impossibly cute four-year-old. Andy'd see me pacing, flipping through calendars, spending bells on linkpearl trying to get stories moving, and suddenly that compromise became intensely relevant. She took me out of my office and put me to work assembling corsages and bouquets. 

I'm not a green thumb, but Andy's thumbs are positively Sylphic. She's a talent at making things grow. I, as a former Peacekeeper from the late Garlean Wars, am more a talent at cutting things. I guess it made me a good choice for arrangement assembly. And while this moon has been slow for a journalist, it's the second busiest time of year for a florist, only surpassed by Valentione's. 

It was a particularly macabre view of the Rising from Ruby's Garden. Grave marker arrangements were the bread and butter of the season. But the Rising is also about renewal - it marks the end of the Seventh Umbral Era as much as its losses and tragedies. That was reflected in the flower shop as well. 

Our daughter, Ruby, is a sprightly and curious little thing, and spends a lot of time underfoot at the offices. Still, for a child, I have to admit that my work is far less exciting than getting to play with flowers. She spends most of her days either with one of her aunts for education or with Andy at the shop. The way I got to interact with her during my work days this moon was a new relationship for my daughter and I. 

When Ruby was born, I left the paramilitary life. I went into journalism, which let me be close to home more often and, certain events excluded, subject myself to less risk (which is funny because I'm still recovering from my injuries at Sandsbank). But journalism was still a lot of travel, a lot of spending time at a desk, too busy by half. I saw her a lot as an infant but for the last year or so, I've rarely spent a whole day with my daughter just being indulgent and spoiling her. 

I'm not giving up this life I lead for anything, don't get me wrong. The point of the story is to illustrate something else entirely: sometimes when everything seems to stop to smell the roses, worrying about how it affects your work may not be the right tack. Rather, it may be better to slow down with the news cycle, and take a look at what you might be missing. Because these breaks don't last forever. Eventually, Mom Lehil has to go back to work.

But for today? Ruby and I are playing in the flowers until Mom Andy gets mad I used all her Lominsian Lilies on a flower crown.