πππ π ππππ πππππ
SENDING CRYSTAL
PASSING NOTES
IN PERSON
PASSING NOTES
IN PERSON
The door creaks. He stumps it open, backing into the room with hands full of tray. A list tucks just out his pocket: Dandelion root, dates, acorn flour, linden,
"I'll beg one off Mobius."
Good for the old man to keep busy. Another time, maybe that'd do for this too. Chantry's no stranger to the comfort in a task. But Cedric's dug enough ditches to know that's got limits, to work a shovel six feet over your head. She's clean, she's tidy, and she's about to step out her own skin. Busy's not the problem.
He takes his time laying out mug, napkin, spoon. Clean. Tidy. He lets her fuss. Tries to think what Barrowβs done for him, only that thinking on that makes him think why Barrow had to, and that don't bear thinking at all. Eventually, stone scuffs under foot, slow and steady and purposefully loud. A palm at her elbow, gentle,
"C'mon. It'll get cold."
"I'll beg one off Mobius."
Good for the old man to keep busy. Another time, maybe that'd do for this too. Chantry's no stranger to the comfort in a task. But Cedric's dug enough ditches to know that's got limits, to work a shovel six feet over your head. She's clean, she's tidy, and she's about to step out her own skin. Busy's not the problem.
He takes his time laying out mug, napkin, spoon. Clean. Tidy. He lets her fuss. Tries to think what Barrowβs done for him, only that thinking on that makes him think why Barrow had to, and that don't bear thinking at all. Eventually, stone scuffs under foot, slow and steady and purposefully loud. A palm at her elbow, gentle,
"C'mon. It'll get cold."
Edited 2024-11-18 11:36 (UTC)
"Cold?"
She blinks at Cedric, closer than she expected him to be, uncomprehending for a full second before the smell of food catches her attention. Her stomach, reminded of its needs, clenches painfully around nothing, and she winces audibly in surprise, snapping the book in her hand shut with the shock of it. Knees buckle, and she grips his wrist, leans harder to keep steady.
He's very warm. Or maybe she's very cold? He's solid, anyway, takes the weight of her like it's nothing,
"Sorry," she says to her shoes after the hunger pang subsides, less because she knows what she's apologizing for than feeling like she should apologize for something. Her whole existence, maybe.
She blinks at Cedric, closer than she expected him to be, uncomprehending for a full second before the smell of food catches her attention. Her stomach, reminded of its needs, clenches painfully around nothing, and she winces audibly in surprise, snapping the book in her hand shut with the shock of it. Knees buckle, and she grips his wrist, leans harder to keep steady.
He's very warm. Or maybe she's very cold? He's solid, anyway, takes the weight of her like it's nothing,
"Sorry," she says to her shoes after the hunger pang subsides, less because she knows what she's apologizing for than feeling like she should apologize for something. Her whole existence, maybe.
Oh, well... I assume so? Not where I was raised, weβtheyβwere all a bunch of academics, in essence, they understood the value of different perspectives. Candlekeep kept high magical texts passed down from the greatest wizards of the ages, but we kept the journals of farmers, too.
But, outside of Candlekeepβpeople are people. Whatever people think here, someone probably thought in FaerΓ»n, too.
Why?
But, outside of Candlekeepβpeople are people. Whatever people think here, someone probably thought in FaerΓ»n, too.
Why?
Curiosity. I like to know where people are coming from.
And it's interesting, isn't it? All of these varied worlds full of new magic and new gods and new technology, but none of them I have heard about yet have figured out how to avoid having underclasses. I can't decide if it's depressing that no one has a solution or reassuring we are not uniquely awful here. But it's interesting either way.
And it's interesting, isn't it? All of these varied worlds full of new magic and new gods and new technology, but none of them I have heard about yet have figured out how to avoid having underclasses. I can't decide if it's depressing that no one has a solution or reassuring we are not uniquely awful here. But it's interesting either way.
A pessimist would call it humanoid nature, I supposeβeveryone wants to be better than someone. But then, everyone would also like to imagine that they are not at fault for their foibles, and that injustice is beyond their grasp to correct, so that they don't have to inconvenience themselves making the attempt.
As a matter of philosophy, it is interesting, but I admit I am no philosopher.
As a matter of philosophy, it is interesting, but I admit I am no philosopher.
Edited 2024-11-19 15:02 (UTC)
gomen for all the delays on this ive been a mess this month
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dissolving
2024-12-01 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
He's cold so often. The tips of his fingers, the crack of joints on morning air; he knows what does it, sure as he knows that the winters only get longer. Broward's hands were like ice by the end. That's what he'd say, anyway,
Couldn't tell.
She's warm on his arm, and he's young; and it's another evening gone before Cedric will notice the chill.
"'S alright," He says, instead of there's nothing to apologize for. Sometimes a word is just something you say; she's not ready to hear things. "Sit down, yeah?"
Bracing her, and that's nearly Broward too. Eggs and toast at the plate, some mystery Marcher meat, cut in a wedge. Fresh pear. The tea is β
Well, you boil any leaf long enough, you can call it tea. His hand closes around the book to ease her down, try and slip it from her grasp; eye to the title. He doesn't pull very hard.
(Candlekeep, she's said before: A library. He's not about to lose his own hand if she decides it's staying with her.)
Couldn't tell.
She's warm on his arm, and he's young; and it's another evening gone before Cedric will notice the chill.
"'S alright," He says, instead of there's nothing to apologize for. Sometimes a word is just something you say; she's not ready to hear things. "Sit down, yeah?"
Bracing her, and that's nearly Broward too. Eggs and toast at the plate, some mystery Marcher meat, cut in a wedge. Fresh pear. The tea is β
Well, you boil any leaf long enough, you can call it tea. His hand closes around the book to ease her down, try and slip it from her grasp; eye to the title. He doesn't pull very hard.
(Candlekeep, she's said before: A library. He's not about to lose his own hand if she decides it's staying with her.)
The book parts from her grasp easilyβsomething on Cuisine in the North, unimportant to her in general except that Cedric needed her help. She's led, eminently biddable, to the desk and the plate, and when she sits and looks at it... She could not be further from hunger.
The pang hurt, yes; she needs to eat, yes; but to actually do itβ She looks at the plate and feels not desire but a faint disgust. It's a new experience, an unfamiliar sensation: sometimes you get so hungry, you circle right back around to not hungry at all.
She makes a face, picks up the fork, eats dutifully in silence, sips her tea with all the jolly enthusiasm of a recruit mucking out latrines. At the corner of the desk sits a pile of books, the top a collection of Dalish myths and legends, various treatises on the nature and origins of darkspawn below, a chantry brother's history of the Deep Roads on the bottom. Each book already has numerous scraps sticking out of the pages, markers for interesting information and passages to return to.
Ness has been returned from Sarrux's Pass for less than a week.
Plate cleared, she wipes her mouth with a handkerchief and looks over to Cedric. Her eyes can't linger on him long, gaze glancing off his face, shoulders curled in.
"Thank you for the meal. I didn't realize how hungry I was."
The pang hurt, yes; she needs to eat, yes; but to actually do itβ She looks at the plate and feels not desire but a faint disgust. It's a new experience, an unfamiliar sensation: sometimes you get so hungry, you circle right back around to not hungry at all.
She makes a face, picks up the fork, eats dutifully in silence, sips her tea with all the jolly enthusiasm of a recruit mucking out latrines. At the corner of the desk sits a pile of books, the top a collection of Dalish myths and legends, various treatises on the nature and origins of darkspawn below, a chantry brother's history of the Deep Roads on the bottom. Each book already has numerous scraps sticking out of the pages, markers for interesting information and passages to return to.
Ness has been returned from Sarrux's Pass for less than a week.
Plate cleared, she wipes her mouth with a handkerchief and looks over to Cedric. Her eyes can't linger on him long, gaze glancing off his face, shoulders curled in.
"Thank you for the meal. I didn't realize how hungry I was."
Cedric thunks into the chair opposite, pages the book slow. Place to put his eyes, other than dead on her, not the way she's jumping for it. And anyway, he'd like to know what kind of monster kebab don't take meat β
"Sure," He sets the book aside, leans out over his elbows. Clock the rest of the stack and its disparate subjects: Darkspawn, Dalish. Wycome, "Gets like that, sometimes."
His eyes finally find her face again. He isn't asking about hunger when he asks,
"It get like that before?"
"Sure," He sets the book aside, leans out over his elbows. Clock the rest of the stack and its disparate subjects: Darkspawn, Dalish. Wycome, "Gets like that, sometimes."
His eyes finally find her face again. He isn't asking about hunger when he asks,
"It get like that before?"
"Oh, no, I was well-fed in Candlekeep," comes brightly, conversationalβnot deflection, whatever else he may be referring to has passed entirely over her head. "I've simply beenβ well. There's a lot about Sarrux's Pass that I didn't understand, and then there's all the work I have to catch up on. Eating hasn't seemed all that... important, I suppose."
Her brow furrows, something about that sentence catching her ear. Sometimes you say things in complete earnest, so sure of their rationality, and then you hear them out loud and they sound so much worse than you thought they would. It's strange, and uncomfortable, and not something she has the time or, frankly, the desire to interrogate right now.
So she smiles at Cedric, meeting his gaze finally.
"I apologize for the diversionβwe were talking about chocolate, weren't we? Looking into substitutes?"
Her brow furrows, something about that sentence catching her ear. Sometimes you say things in complete earnest, so sure of their rationality, and then you hear them out loud and they sound so much worse than you thought they would. It's strange, and uncomfortable, and not something she has the time or, frankly, the desire to interrogate right now.
So she smiles at Cedric, meeting his gaze finally.
"I apologize for the diversionβwe were talking about chocolate, weren't we? Looking into substitutes?"
[ She has a relatively good reason for it! Just watch, ]
I've been recommended to 'wait it out' and been given a nail file for the claws, which was nice of them, I suppose. I wanted to see if your voice had gone, with the whole...
Well, what happened to you was quite horrible, Ennaris. I am here if you want to talk, or write, or...think?
I've been recommended to 'wait it out' and been given a nail file for the claws, which was nice of them, I suppose. I wanted to see if your voice had gone, with the whole...
Well, what happened to you was quite horrible, Ennaris. I am here if you want to talk, or write, or...think?
[ there's a slight pause before ness's response, while she plays out a few different replies and the conversations that would follow, to see which she thinks has the best shot of landing well.
which is a very normal and chill way to approach friendship, she thinks!]
My mouth is returned to normal, and I seem to have kept my voice. For all I can tell, it seems as though all my mutations have fully reverted, I'm sorry that yours haven't yet. You know, what happened to you was horrible as well. Do you want to talk?
which is a very normal and chill way to approach friendship, she thinks!]
My mouth is returned to normal, and I seem to have kept my voice. For all I can tell, it seems as though all my mutations have fully reverted, I'm sorry that yours haven't yet. You know, what happened to you was horrible as well. Do you want to talk?
[ the vehemence of hermione's answer startles ness into a laugh, but she stifles it quickly, careful not to appear as though she's laughing at hermione. her own enchanted book gets set to the side and she adjusts her seat to more fully face hermione, hands clasped in her lap, expression dutifully open. ]
You have the floor, Messere Granger, please. Unburden yourself.
You have the floor, Messere Granger, please. Unburden yourself.
[ She sets her magical book to the side on the bed, shifting to face Ness, and cross her legs to hold onto her ankles for a moment, unwittingly trying to not gesticulate too much so that she doesn't startle her roommate. (Hermione can be a lot, she's aware.) ]
I wouldn't call it a burden to shed at all, but - I was going to say that bit of telepathic connection we could have, that was... [ A little pause, her excited little smile slipping through. ] Well, exciting! I don't know how common the practice is in your world but a remarkably limited number of wizards can actually practice that in mine. And it's not even close to what you did - I could hear you! As though you spoke to me in my mind - mostly Legilimency is a lot of mind-reading, but not connection.
[ After which, the glow on her face and the sparkle in her eyes dim a bit, into seriousness. ]
Which is not to say that I don't think you shouldn't have been scared. Your mouth - of course you're well within your rights, you know, just... [ Somewhat softer now, ] You did not frighten me when you spoke directly into my mind.
I wouldn't call it a burden to shed at all, but - I was going to say that bit of telepathic connection we could have, that was... [ A little pause, her excited little smile slipping through. ] Well, exciting! I don't know how common the practice is in your world but a remarkably limited number of wizards can actually practice that in mine. And it's not even close to what you did - I could hear you! As though you spoke to me in my mind - mostly Legilimency is a lot of mind-reading, but not connection.
[ After which, the glow on her face and the sparkle in her eyes dim a bit, into seriousness. ]
Which is not to say that I don't think you shouldn't have been scared. Your mouth - of course you're well within your rights, you know, just... [ Somewhat softer now, ] You did not frighten me when you spoke directly into my mind.
Edited 2025-02-08 22:51 (UTC)
[ absolutely not late at all, certainly not this late, abby comes back to their room to find a sheaf of loose, handmade paper bound in a leather cord on her pillow. there is no indication who it's from, but atop hermione's bed sits a similar sheaf, while there's none on ness's bed.
a week after abby's gift to ness finds its way to her desk, another gift appears, this one in abby's nightstand (so as not to make hermione jealous): a handmade, handstitched collection of stories from faerΓ»n, as best as ness could remember them, from myths to fairytales to epics. since she only had a week, they're all relatively brief, but the note on top of the collection reads: ]
Let me know which ones you like best, and I'll write them in more detail. I look forward to discussing them, and Aveline, with you!
βE. Tavane, Quartermaster
a week after abby's gift to ness finds its way to her desk, another gift appears, this one in abby's nightstand (so as not to make hermione jealous): a handmade, handstitched collection of stories from faerΓ»n, as best as ness could remember them, from myths to fairytales to epics. since she only had a week, they're all relatively brief, but the note on top of the collection reads: ]
Let me know which ones you like best, and I'll write them in more detail. I look forward to discussing them, and Aveline, with you!
βE. Tavane, Quartermaster
Oh, this... wasn't where Ness expected this talk to go. Her smile falls, slowly, her apprehension ratcheting up as soon as it becomes clear what Hermione is talking aboutβ
and then she blinks, utterly nonplussed, as Hermione's excitement becomes clear. It's not the first time someone's had a positive reaction to her telepathyβStephen wasnt quite so effusive, but he clearly didn't consider it a bad thing for her to be capable ofβbut it's so far from the norm that she doesn't know how to respond at first. Suspicion, fear, anger: she's prepared for all of those. She has no script in place for excitement.
Even more slowly than it fell, her smile returns, hesitant and unsure.
"It's not common in FaerΓ»n either, actually. There are some Aberrations that can speak like this, through mental connection, but the magic that's available to most people is to do with mind reading, like your Legilimancy."
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at Hermione, still bemusedβbut with growing excitement.
"You really don't mind? You're not worried I read your thoughts, violated your privacy? I didn't, for the record, and I can't, butβyou wouldn't have been angry if I had?"
and then she blinks, utterly nonplussed, as Hermione's excitement becomes clear. It's not the first time someone's had a positive reaction to her telepathyβStephen wasnt quite so effusive, but he clearly didn't consider it a bad thing for her to be capable ofβbut it's so far from the norm that she doesn't know how to respond at first. Suspicion, fear, anger: she's prepared for all of those. She has no script in place for excitement.
Even more slowly than it fell, her smile returns, hesitant and unsure.
"It's not common in FaerΓ»n either, actually. There are some Aberrations that can speak like this, through mental connection, but the magic that's available to most people is to do with mind reading, like your Legilimancy."
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at Hermione, still bemusedβbut with growing excitement.
"You really don't mind? You're not worried I read your thoughts, violated your privacy? I didn't, for the record, and I can't, butβyou wouldn't have been angry if I had?"
Edited 2025-02-19 16:58 (UTC)
If she has learned anything in her years (Merlin, years!) on the road, accompanied by people with different magical abilities and skills, it's that not everything has to be exactly the same as hers to be good.
She is trying to be reasonable here, because Ness is her friend. And Ness was faced with desperate times calling for desperate measures.
"I think I would've, because I would prefer to simply talk things out, if you have any questions for me. But when it happened, when we were down there - honestly, given the circumstances, I wasn't mad at all. More than anything, relieved that you could find a way to communicate with me."
A beat. "And more than a little impressed."
She is trying to be reasonable here, because Ness is her friend. And Ness was faced with desperate times calling for desperate measures.
"I think I would've, because I would prefer to simply talk things out, if you have any questions for me. But when it happened, when we were down there - honestly, given the circumstances, I wasn't mad at all. More than anything, relieved that you could find a way to communicate with me."
A beat. "And more than a little impressed."
It occurs to her to worry that Hermione could have been angry with herβbut perhaps the excitement that she's not is cushioning the habitual anxiety somewhat, because Ness dismisses the thought as soon as it forms. She asked, Hermione answered, Ness didn't and now won't do the thing that would have made her angry, that's all that matters.
"I'm so glad you feel that way," she says, "and I promiseβ"
She cuts herself off, getting up from her bed to come sit on the edge of Hermione's, looking earnestly into her eyes.
"I promise I won't use it on you without your permission outside of extenuating circumstances. You have my word."
Ness smiles, in what she hopes is a way that says she's trustworthy without trying so hard it comes right back around to suspiciousβand then blinks.
"Impressed?"
"I'm so glad you feel that way," she says, "and I promiseβ"
She cuts herself off, getting up from her bed to come sit on the edge of Hermione's, looking earnestly into her eyes.
"I promise I won't use it on you without your permission outside of extenuating circumstances. You have my word."
Ness smiles, in what she hopes is a way that says she's trustworthy without trying so hard it comes right back around to suspiciousβand then blinks.
"Impressed?"
Fortunately for Ness, Hermione decided on first meeting the woman that she was trustworthy and genuine. And when she offered her friendship, she didn't do it out of nostalgia and because Ness reminds her a little of Luna, but because of how Ness is.
Smart, kind, curious, interesting. Would Hermione go to war for Ennaris Tavene? Yes, probably - but more importantly, she'd try to resolve conflict without war, for Ness.
Once Ness is sat on the edge of her bed, Hermione scoots to make her space, nodding at the request for clarification. "Oh, yes. Your magic skills are very impressive. I keep wanting to ask you to teach me, though I know it'll be futile because we're using different sources, but it's - I think you're very capable. Some of the things I've seen you do, a skilled wizard would struggle with. From my home, I mean - not from Faerun."
Smart, kind, curious, interesting. Would Hermione go to war for Ennaris Tavene? Yes, probably - but more importantly, she'd try to resolve conflict without war, for Ness.
Once Ness is sat on the edge of her bed, Hermione scoots to make her space, nodding at the request for clarification. "Oh, yes. Your magic skills are very impressive. I keep wanting to ask you to teach me, though I know it'll be futile because we're using different sources, but it's - I think you're very capable. Some of the things I've seen you do, a skilled wizard would struggle with. From my home, I mean - not from Faerun."
He waits until she's released, the Infirmary has enough hovering eyes. It's more difficult than he'd like to find time alone. She doesn't leave the library long enough, and when it isn't her in the offices, it's the Orlesian.
He doesn't want to talk to the Orlesian.
At last, she's carting some tray back up the stair. He rises from the nearest table β staked-out to purpose β without a meal, which makes it easier to slip a hand about her own and take the weight.
"Serah Tavane," Soft-spoken, a contrast to the snarling voice over the crystals. "Senior Warden Strand. We need to speak privately."
He doesn't want to talk to the Orlesian.
At last, she's carting some tray back up the stair. He rises from the nearest table β staked-out to purpose β without a meal, which makes it easier to slip a hand about her own and take the weight.
"Serah Tavane," Soft-spoken, a contrast to the snarling voice over the crystals. "Senior Warden Strand. We need to speak privately."
Soft-spoken or not, Ness wanders through the Gallows with her mind only half-devoted to her physical surroundings at the best of times—she still startles for the Warden's appearance at her side. Her tray very nearly goes tumbling out of both their hands, but she lets it go in her surprise and he compensates, and that leaves her free to press her hand over her chest.
"Knots," she snaps, "where did you come from—"
It takes a moment for her to recover from the fright, not to mention process what he actually said. The resulting annoyance may be somewhat unfair, but, really,
"There is the Archivist's office, Messere, you could make an appointment."
"Knots," she snaps, "where did you come from—"
It takes a moment for her to recover from the fright, not to mention process what he actually said. The resulting annoyance may be somewhat unfair, but, really,
"There is the Archivist's office, Messere, you could make an appointment."
"About Sarrux."
β And if that doesn't explain why a shared office won't do, he's willing to press the point. Strand balances the tray, picks a tumbled grain of rice from his sleeve. Eyes her plain.
(When she'd startled, he'd spied it as if in slow-motion. He moves slowly these days to match.)
"There's a storeroom with thick walls," Out of earshot of the dozen other busybodies in Riftwatch's leadership. "Or we can discuss it here and now."
β And if that doesn't explain why a shared office won't do, he's willing to press the point. Strand balances the tray, picks a tumbled grain of rice from his sleeve. Eyes her plain.
(When she'd startled, he'd spied it as if in slow-motion. He moves slowly these days to match.)
"There's a storeroom with thick walls," Out of earshot of the dozen other busybodies in Riftwatch's leadership. "Or we can discuss it here and now."
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