aberratic | 𝒇𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒙

[It's not long after her arrival through the Rift and subsequent journey to the Gallows that Ness is approached by a tall, slender young man with a board and parchment. He inclines his head in greeting, offering a polite smile:]

Ennaris Tavane? I'm Benedict Artemaeus, Personnel Officer.

(Continued from over here.)

[Cedric makes the introduction which, inevitably, feels a bit like a hand-off. Enchanter Julius, when he arrives is a tall man in his 40s, his initial expression concerned but sympathetic. (The air of a teacher, as promised.) He's dressed in trousers and a tunic, rather than robes, but he's brought his staff. He also has a a small bag of supplies slung over one shoulder.

After Cedric promises to stay close and excuses himself, Julius leans the staff close enough he can reach it, but out of the way as he settles next to her.]

Alright. So I've had a little bit, but if you feel up to it, why don't you tell me what's been happening? I think the more I know, the more helpful I can probably be.

[His tone is kind, quiet. There will be a lot to deal with in the morning, but right now, he can't help but be affected by a young woman in magical distress.]

[OOC: Happy to adjust if you want to approach this another way, just lmk.]

continued from.

Sorcerer, [ Strange corrects automatically, a kneejerk instinct; the verbiage doesn’t even really matter anymore, but he stands on the principle of getting it right. Naming things as they are. And the terminology might matter for a particular rifter universe, because he still remembers Wysteria being precise about the definitions between magicians, sorcerers, wizards, witches.

Seated beside this young woman, he peers over to look a little closer at the titles she’d selected to read, thinking: Oghma, the god of knowledge. He doesn’t much truck with gods, but if there’s one to follow, that sounds better than most. ]

It might be the same thing at the end of the day, however, and similar to what they call a mage here. Someone who’s studied and practiced magic and is capable of harnessing its powers to cast spells, yes?

Hey. En-naris? (The pronunciation is a little weak, but hey.)

[ Belatedly: after ending this conversation presumably more politely than falling completely silent out of nowhere (sorry), Bastien eventually gets around to leaving a bundle of papers in Ness' pigeonhole in the dining hall.

Most of it is an accumulation of pamphlets and clips from broadsheets and quarterlies from the last few years that he already had on hand, ranging from staid essays on the benefits of unifying behind the new Divine to furious screeds on the way the wealthy and powerful are using the prolonged threat of Corypheus as an excuse to tighten their fists around the common people. The contents trend toward the anti-monarchist, communitarian, anarchist, or otherwise revolutionary, because that's what he's naturally collected for himself. But there's certainly an attempt to provide a broader spectrum of opinions. Even the bootlicking ones.

On top are a few things he gathered specifically for the request, including a less imbalanced array of recent publications and a thin, saddle-stitched volume titled Common Knowledge: The World According to the Unlettered, by Aubertin Ménétries. It's something of an anthropological survey, reporting on common folks' accounts of the workings of government and the natural world and so on—but exceedingly condescending, clearly cultivated to mock its subjects.

The only note is in the cover of the book. It says,

Do not think I paid money for this. I would never. —Bastien ]

Hey — when you got a minute, can I ask you on something? Supply question. 'S not urgent.

(Delivered to her desk (only a day late): a leather-bound copy of Aveline, Knight of Orlais by Lord Francois Maigny, an embellished version of the life and adventures of an Orlesian woman, raised by Dalish elves, who disguises herself as a man to enter a Knight's tournament. The ending is sad.

Abby has tied a beautiful purple ribbon around it. A small scrap of paper on top contains a cramped note:) Lemme know what you think when you're done. I'd love to talk about it. Happy Satinalia. — Abby A.

Mlle. Tavane, I've a question regarding Rifter health which I believe you uniquely suited to.

Have you been given a clean bill of health yet?

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 — staked-out to purpose — 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."

action

action;

action.

crystal

delivery.

crystals; whatever point in time

*bells jingling*

crystals;

book (backdated to after sarrux pass, like...v soon after)

no subject

bells jingling