So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
8
likes
3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
7
likes
3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
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Bio
Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?
When Onarr arrived at the fountain, it would've been hard for him to miss that there were a great many people near to it and he was not quite certain of who his contact would be. No sooner had he started scanning the likely candidates, than a pretty girl of East Severan extraction, who he'd taken for a student, skipped up to him. "Onarr?" she enquired, face eager and voice chipper. "Is that you?"
Onarr's helmet bobbed up as he swerved around, looking for the source of the noise, until he found a pair of thin legs. He then looked up and then, jumped with a stammer. "Oh! I didn't quite notice you there. Yes, Onarr Yidlob at your service." He then tilted his head curiously. Not many people knew of his name. Perhaps, she read one of his manuscripts? He stuck out his hand to shake hers. "I'm sorry if we met before but by perchance, what would your name be?"
"Minnah," she replied, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Presently, she shook his hand. "Minnah Jangaro. And no," she continued, with a hint of a giggle, "we have not - perchance - met before, though it is a pleasure to meet you." Her smile seemed to turn professional, then. "We do, however, share an acquaintance, and he's so very eager to speak with you." Minnah was perhaps a bit older than she had initially looked, Onarr may have noticed. Her hair was pulled back in afro-puffs and there was a sort of bounce to her every step. "If you would be so kind as to follow me?" she offered, letting the last past of the sentence dangle.
Onarr quickly figured out that Minnah was his contact and was led, with surprisingly little decorum, to a waiting rickshaw, which whisked him away to a small townhome which flew the flag of his country. From inside came the unmistakable aroma of hearty Joruban cuisine. Inside was President Yibozo. After a friendly and not especially formal greeting, he led Onarr to a small, private dining room, where the meal was presently being laid out on the table. A cook hustled over from the kitchen with the final dish, but the president rose to take it from her. "You've done quite enough, Hope. Let me take that for you," he offered.
"Thank you, sir."
He waved mock-dismissively. "No need to thank. You're the chef! Now go," he added, "shoo! Go eat the rest in the big room and let me conspire with this young man, hmm?" He winked in Onarr's direction and Hope scampered off to do exactly that with the other staff. "Now, let's eat. I'll fill your head full of unwanted politics once we're both on full stomachs, eh?"
It was little but the most perfunctory of smalltalk. The president was a polite eater, but a quick one. He did not react when Onarr removed his helmet. At one point, seeing the boy's appreciation of a dish, he leaned in and chuckled. "I shelled out good money for that. Glad to see it's appreciated. Eat every bite or Bwan Somiji's* gonna getcha, huh?" He proceeded to cut another slice of his meat pie and return to eating it.
When they were finished, their conversation started remarkably straightforwardly. Atundo Yibozo confided that he had been trying to arrange meetings with all of the Joruban Biros at the school. They would soon be influential people and it was important for him to get to know them on a person-to-person basis, just as it was meaningful to show them that their country would have their backs. If things came down to it, the president expressed a similar desire that they should stand up for their country and its interests and achievements. Joru was an experiment: a beacon to the rest of the world of what was possible without a class system, but it required its citizens to buy in and to be vigilant in order for it to succeed. He spoke of the tension and his desire to do anything within his power to avoid a war. He had been a soldier, once, after all, and then a revolutionary, and the Joruban people - and all people, truly - had bled more than enough for the interests of the selfish and powerful.
But he was making a move, in two days. He expected there to be some fallout. Already, he confided, with a startling casualness, there had been an attempt on his life at the plaza yesterday evening. Perhaps Onarr remembered something strange and unplaceable? In any event, the president claimed that he had put security measures in place, that he hoped he could rely on the 'Vigilant eyes of the Joruban youth of this city' and that he hoped to 'go traveling soon with a friend of mine'. Leaving the youth to digest that information, he hired another rickshaw and, after he and Onarr exchanged a handshake, he stood in the open doorway, thumbs hooked into his pockets, before turning and closing the door behind himself.
*Bwan Somiji goes by a number of related names but, in all cases, is a monster from East Severan folk tradition. He is depicted as a tall, gangling man with sharp teeth, a huge mouth, and pale greyish-white skin. He was once a banker, big and fat, with healhty-coloured skin, but his greed led him to call in his loans early and he snatched the new year's feast right off the plate of a Rezaindian Nun. She begged Ahn-Eshiran to curse him, but there was no response. Five times in total, this happened, to five different acolytes of Eshiran, while he himself was often wasteful of food. Thus, the god was finally moved to act, placing a blood magic spell on him that would destroy any food that Bwan Somiji ate after it had only lasted five seconds in his stomach. She also gave him eternal life by declining to ever bless him with the release of death, so that his suffering might serve as an example to others. He wanders the countryside now, attacking and eating children who refuse to eat good food in a fit of jealousy.
Jomurr tries to flex and Linah and Penny are not impressed.
The girls seize upon Anesin's observation about her Registry form and figure out that it's invisible ink. They use heat to reveal a hidden message.
At the bottom of the form is written: "Foundations in Drawing, Converting, and Casting in the Blood School of Magic (MF107) - registration will not count towards a student's course limit."
Eun-Ji, given a mission to get tot he bottom of the strange happenings at the school, snoops very subtly, but is noticed by her fellow illusionist, Penny.
Penny and Eun-Ji feel each other out. It isn't hostile, but they realize that they are not on the same side. Eun-Ji's wariness about Blood Magic and Penny's paranoia prevent that.
Linah and Penny reconvene and consolidate what they know, and Penny considers signing up for the clandestine course
Luncheons such as this were an exercise in chaos, Jomurr had decided: all manner of...human beings (he could not spot a yasoi) gathered into a single room. The stench of overbearing perfumes and body odor was almost overwhelming. He was forced to line up like a common beggar and prepare his own plate. This morning had been a most diverting exercise in novelty, but he found himself rather finished with such diversions now. To add insult to injury, his food was...limp and lukewarm at best by the time he'd gotten it. In particular, the Torragonese tarts were at... less than their best. At least the beef stew was acceptable, even if it wasn't exactly fine cuisine. The less said on the Joruban Monkfish, the better. Such a delicious base, but those damned Jorubans always burnt the bloody thing to cinders. Monkfish Sushi was a far superior dish.
Eventually, however, Jomurr was forced to sit amongst the rabble. There was a boy who looked little better than a street urchin who'd disappeared almost immediately, a rather plain Torragonese girl, her Perrench companion who slouched in her seat, hair a birds' nest, as well as a Rettanese whose bedraggled appearance indicated an utter disinterest in personal hygiene. However, not all of them were so awful, he supposed. There were a couple of pretty Eskandish noblewomen (one with striking white hair), Carmillia, and Zemana's four: the taciturn Kerreman, the two Rettanese girls, one of whom was so small and sweet that he simply could not bring himself to dislike her, and the quiet Paggonian. Conspicuously absent, of course, was Solaire, who'd gone gallivanting off for whatever reason Jomurr assumed tickled his fancy, as well as the urchin and the Joruban midget in the towering bascinet helm.
The Belzaggicman delivered a polite greeting and took his seat close to some of the better-heeled types, including a dusty Torragonese lordling and one of the Eskandishwomen, but he left an empty seat to one side - all the better to stretch out a little bit. "Lovely luncheon," he commented, the sarcasm in his tone so subtle that only the most practiced ear could've possibly picked it out. "but what I'm on about is this courses registry. Will anybody else be taking Atomic?"
Linah glanced at the snotty noble seated within hearing range, but didn't grant him beyond a second's worth of attention. His dismissive tone when speaking about the food, his blatant pickiness, and the attempt to immediately make the conversation about his oh-so-powerful self indicated the type of person she'd prefer not to get involved with.
Unlike her roommate, Penny could not quite exercise the restraint needed to ignore Jomurr's words. The Belzaggic high lord was a prat: typical of the sorts of upper nobles who her father often dealt with. 'Lovely luncheon' she thought, suppressing a snort and easily able to recognize the hint of condescension in his tone. "Hmm, I suppose I could," she replied on the topic of Atomic Magic, the teasing and assertion of strength in her tone so subtle that only the most practiced ear could've possibly picked it out. "To be perfectly honest, I've not yet decided on a secondary magic." She'd wanted to say more - to embarrass his little attempt at braggery - but she counseled herself behave. She was not at home and she was not Penelope of Perrence. She was Penny Pellegrin.
Linah turned towards Penny, the action also conveniently hiding the grin she directed towards the other girl from Jomurr. "Gutsy," she whispered, "but then, I already knew as much." There was an appreciative spark as one of her suspicions was confirmed; Penny was undoubtedly magically powerful. It could have been a bluff on her part, to be sure, but it was likelier to be true. When surrounded by the magically capable, one's confidence had to have genuine skill to back it up if one wished to emerge victorious upon being inevitably challenged. The thought of Penny being able to overpower that braggart was a sweet one. Not as sweet as thinking of ways to overcome the boy herself, of course, but Linah knew that in raw magical capacity, she'd never be his match. However, if she had her mark right, he'd be most indignant being overcome by guile and trickery.
Penny hid her smirk and leaned back in to whisper, as Jomurr had proceeded to make the stern-looking Kerreman whose name she could not quite remember his next target. "Sometimes I can't resist my better nature," she replied, but then she noticed Anesin rubbing at something on her registry paper. The Perrenchwoman's thoughts returned to the awkward glances the two had shared a couple of minutes earlier, as Penny had noticed something similar on her own form. Anesin said as much: "It appears someone has written on mine. I do hope they do not assume I wrote on this.” The Eskandishwoman looked to Linah, then to Penny. A frown crossing her face. "It seems careless.”
Penny lowered her voice somewhat and held out her own paper. "Mine has the same markings," she replied, glancing at Anesin and then at Linah. "I thought it rather queer." She addressed the latter. "Does yours?" At that, her eyes flicked about the table, wondering who else's might've contained what was increasingly looking like some sort of secret message or code.
Linah had to take a moment to redirect the vindictive streak her thoughts had given way to. Cocking her head to the side, she said, "No...not at all. But the same message for two - or more people?" she questioned quietly. That particular list of ingredients sparked familiarity, but she had to sort through some of her memories before she recognized the significance. "Ahhh," she lowered her voice further, "Shall I apply some heat to these?" she pointedly looked from the parchments to the girls, curious if they'd catch their meaning and if they'd allow the message to be revealed in such a public location. It might not be a secret intended for one particular person, but it was a hidden note nonetheless.
Penny did not quite control her face. Her earlier suspicions had been correct! Invisible ink! She glanced warily at Linah and then back at Anesin. They were speaking too much in whispers, leaning in too greatly. To even a somewhat practiced eye, it would be obvious that they were conspiring over something. Penny was something of an expert in that, after all. She'd grown up in a pit of just such vipers. "Yes, some heat would be nice," she said in a bit less of a whisper, "I've noticed a bit of a chill in such a grand hall. Yet... perhaps we should keep the papers away from it. Wouldn't want to be burnt."
"That it would be," Linah answered casually, matching Penny's tone and amplitude. Yes, whispering so obviously in such a crowd would be noticeable, and it was good of Penny to remind her. She lay a palm upon the table, staring unseeingly into the distance as she concentrated on the vibrations all around her. Carried through the wood of their seating arrangements, the stone beneath their feet, and of course, upon the air itself. That in addition to the sparse rays of light protruding through the glass-stained windows was enough energy to convert into the heat she needed. Returning her awareness to the present company, Linah begun to wave a hand around Penny. "How is that?" she queried. A gentle, warm breeze would envelop Penny, and possibly her neighbours as well. Either Penny or Anesin would have to cooperate with her in the following sleight-of-hand; Linah needed to get her other hand, the free one still perched lightly on the table, upon the parchment itself to ensure she could reveal its hidden contents. Her show of helping a friend keep warm would have to be enough to conceal her true purpose, as there wasn't much else but to follow Penny's guidance in redirecting attention from their scheme.
"Ah yes, much better," chirped Penny. "You are a gem, Linah, truly." She posted her hands upon the tabletop, incidentally pushing the registry form aside and over to Linah. After a few moments of tense anticipation and glances that were meant to be subtle but likely were not, a hidden text revealed itself, at the very foot of the page:
"Foundations in Drawing, Converting, and Casting in the Blood School of Magic (MF107) - registration will not count towards a student's course limit."
Indeed, the exchange between Penny and Linah had not been unobserved. Sitting at the same table, Eun-Ji had been eating her own meal slowly. To an outside observer, it looked exactly what it seemed to be; just a girl minding her own lunch. In reality however, Eun-Ji had once more entered a state of focus soon after she started to eat. She had done it mostly to numb herself from the worries that still plagued her mind about her new task, but it had ended up making her take notice of two things. One, that Leon Solaire was nowhere to be seen even though he should be with them. The second thing was the pair of whispering girls.
It could just be girls fooling around of course, but the more she watched them, the more fishy it felt to her. Considering the new mission she'd been given without any additional lead... Might as well, I suppose. If it turns out to be nothing, then at least it would have been good practice.
Her mind made up, she casually rose from her seat and then proceeded to walk. She began drawing, from the ambient heat and sounds of her surroundings, making sure to draw in moderation so no one would notice. She didn't need a lot for her plan. She kept walking and soon, she passed near where Penny and Linah were sitting. Then she cast a little illusion simply to make it seem like her eyes continued looking in the direction she was walking, while in reality they were looking toward the registry that Penny had pushed over to Linah. It was brief, but it was enough for her to quickly read the hidden text. That done, she continued walking, as if to step outside to get some fresh air.
She felt it. It was extremely subtle and she thought that she'd imagined it, but Penny herself had trained enough in illusion to recognize the sort of arcane application that usually went with it. The Perrench girl blinked and, without consciously meaning to, pulled the course registry close to her chest. She glanced at Anesin and Linah. Maybe they'd felt it too but, to her knowledge, neither was an illusionist. Perhaps a bit carelessly, Penny twisted and, sure enough, they were not alone. The Tan Keoulean girl - was in Yoon-Chi? - brushed past unassumingly. She noticed the Kerreman - Manfred's - eyes upon her before they quickly flicked away. Why not just ask? Penny wondered. Pushing her chair out, she scrambled to grab her crutches and rose. "You know what?" she chirped, "I'm stuffed. I swear, that turkey has nothing on me." She faked a giggle and headed straight after Eun-Ji. The moment that they were out of immediate earshot, she spoke: "Does it mean anything to you?" She clarified: "The hidden message on the registry, that is."
Hmm. Suboptimal performance. Eun-Ji sighed internally as Penny spoke to her. She hadn't expected that she'd be caught in the act, but then again that had always been the risk to the little illusion trick that she did. She turned around to look at the considerably taller girl, looking straight at Penny's eyes. Penny blinked, smiling innocently enough, but implacable. On the other hand, Eun-Ji's expression remained her usual neutral and calm. She nodded, before proceeding to respond to Penny's question. "Yes. I believe the facts of it are quite obvious... That particular form of magic is not supposed to be legal to teach, to my understanding." Eun-Ji saw no reason to lie; or rather, the very thought of lying didn't even occur to her. It was something that at times maddened her instructors as a Lotus Sentry, yet something that remained unchanged about her. As a saving grace, at least, she was quite adept at not telling the whole truth. "Please forgive my intrusion." She bowed politely, a full thirty degree of inclination, before continuing. "I noticed you and your friends being... conspirative, and could not help but to be curious about it."
Penny pursed her lips, glancing back toward the table. "Walk with me?" she prodded, taking a couple of steps. She hadn't paid much attention to this girl until she'd caught her looking (barely), and she doubted that any of the others had noticed. There didn't seem to be anyone following them. "And yes, I know that, of course. Everyone does. Just... I was curious about why you might be interested. Did you receive the same message? Were you thinking of accepting it?"
Eun-Ji obliged, walking along with Penny. She kept her posture and expression entirely casual throughout, looking around at nothing in particular. "No, I did not know what you were being secretive about. I believe my course registry bears no such hidden message. It is a situation that I think fits that saying about curiosity causing the cat to expire. Still..." She paused briefly, before nodding mostly to herself. "Now that I know of it, it is quite the cause for concern... Nothing good can come out of such magic."
Penny broadly agreed. Blood Magic had always been something frightening to her: strange, dark, and dangerous...and yet, there was a certain allure to the unknown. She kept that to herself, however, just as she hid her curiosity about why Eun-Ji had been so eager to snoop. She went with something a bit more conciliatory, sensing an opportunity and prepared to play the long game. "It is as you say, truly." She tried to avoid looking suspicious, but she lowered her voice. "And yet, I don't believe that we should report our findings. If this appears on forms issued by the school, then somebody highly placed - or perhaps many somebodies - are involved. It is well above our level." She was worried, but also intrigued. She did her best to project the former and tamp down on the latter, however.
Eun-Ji did not immediately respond to Penny's words. Instead, she took some moments to think and consider the matter at hand. On one side, she genuinely disliked the very notion of Blood Magic being secretly taught in the academy. On the other, there was indeed likely little that biros such as themselves would be able to do about the situation... Not to mention that this directly pertained to her additional mission. In the end, she nodded once more before again talking to Penny. "I do not like it one bit... It is... not right, for something so vile to be propagated further. But..." she let out a small, subdued sigh before continuing. "You are right. I do not think that reporting this will do us any good."
"And yet I wonder..." Penny began, trailing off for a moment. "Who else received these? Is there a pattern?" She paused and turned to face Eun-Ji, face concerned. "What if we had evidence? Perhaps I should be brave - or one of us biros should be. What if... that person were to sign up, to... infiltrate, and try to gain more information?"
"I am inclined to believe that this was not done by random, so there must be a pattern." She paused to think once more, and quickly realized she simply did not yet have enough information to form any conclusion. "What that pattern is, I unfortunately have no idea yet. As for what you are suggesting..." Eun-Ji looked away for a moment, before then looking straight at Penny's eyes again. "It is not a decision I believe I have any rights to opine on. As much as my personal feelings will never agree to the propagation of something so vile, I cannot stop anyone from signing up for it regardless of their reasoning."
Eun-Ji was onto her. Penny was scared. There was something about the girl that she didn't trust. She wasn't sure exactly what, but it was something for certain. "Hmm, I do think we should do something to prevent its propagation. Blood Magic... in our school. It's..." she paused and blinked. "Dangerous." Penny turned back the way she'd come, glancing over her shoulder at Eun-Ji. "Though I suppose it will likely not be me to take up the role of spy. Gods, this is insane," she whispered. "Anyhow," she continued, in a louder voice, "I do not think I needed fresh air so badly as I'd thought. This brief walk and lovely chat as been more than enough to settle my stomach." She reached out to clasp one of Eun-Ji's hands in hers, but did not yet take it without the other girl's permission. "It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Eun-Ji nodded. "It is dangerous, no matter where it is practiced. And this school is indeed no exception, if not one of the worst places for it to propagate." Of the infiltration and who, if any, shall be the "spy", Eun-Ji made no further response. Instead simply looking with her seemingly ever neutral expression back at Penny. Then, Penny reached out to clasp one of Eun-Ji's hands, resulting in Eun-Ji staring at Penny's hand for a moment. "Ah." She soon caught on to it, that people of other cultures often made such gestures that were the equivalent of Tan Keoulean's own joined palms gesture. She accepted the clasp, adding a nod along with it. "Yes. An honor to make your acquaintance..." She paused briefly, not sure what else to say before finally deciding on a simple "Until we next meet, farewell."
"Indeed!" Penny squeezed her hand slightly, took a step back, and pivoted on her heel, making her way towards the hall and the tables. The girl's mind was burning every step of the way back. Secret Blood Magic courses, disappearing memories, political intrigue, and now... she did not trust Eun-Ji. Perhaps not a bad person, but definitely with her own agenda, Penny decided, definitely hiding something. It took a moment for realization to catch up with her. Just like me, she thought glumly. She was to meet with father, in secret, under a pretense later today. How she wanted to tell Linah and Anesin and Onarr - who was strangely absent. She felt as if her secret would turn into a poison between them. Yet, it would not do. Should anyone of any import find out, she would be removed from the school and that would be the end of things. She'd be confined back to that damned room in that cursed castle to live out the rest of her days slowly going insane with her books and her experiments. No, that could not happen. It would not! She needed some more time: more time to make certain that she could trust these people. True, they had not rejected her out of hand, but she did not yet know them deeply enough to be sure that she could trust them with such a secret. Presently, as she drew near, she sighted Linah and tried to catch her eye, giving her a look that said nothing so much as 'oooh boy.'
Linah met Penny's eye; her departure had been obvious enough, and she thought to have discerned the reason for it. The Tan Keoulean girl had used an illusionist trick that was one of her own favourites. Penny seemed to have caught that, and followed the other girl...for a confrontation? Quirking an eyebrow at the Perrench teammate, she smiled and waved a hand for the other to retake her seat. "An auspicious new meeting? Or a previous acquaintance?"
Penny rather plopped back down onto her seat, sliding her crutch under the table and flicking back the curtain of hair that had draped itself over her face as she'd leaned down. "In truth?" she replied. "The girl is not to be trusted." Her voice was low. She spared the briefest of glances in the direction of the Kerreman - was it... Manfred? - and schooled her expression into something akin to 'juicy gossip' before continuing. She'd seen her sisters do it and nothing else piqued disinterest from others quite so effectively. "She may not be nefarious, but she has an agenda. Plus, she is desperately against any sort of practice of Blood Magic in this school." She kept an even tone on the last statement: open to interpretation, or so she hoped, for Penny herself had mixed feelings on the matter. Anesin was rather busy stuffing her face, and how that girl maintained the physique that she did with such an appetite was quite beyond the Perrenchwoman. Linah, however, was a different story. They were in this together now, she sensed, and how the Torragonese responded could serve to tell her much.
Linah was just starting on her dessert, a light, sugary, many-layered thing. She matched Penny's expression - her potential ally-or-friend was really good at that - and listened politely. Before answering, she patted her mouth with a napkin to remove the sweet white dust that had inevitably accumulated there as she ate. "Many people are prejudiced against it," she commented thoughtfully. Yes, there were countless people who'd erase that school of magic if it were possible. But someone who may be working towards making that a reality? Linah didn't consider the Tan Keoulean suspicious just for that, though Penny had been the one to have spoken to her, and so would be aware of subtleties Linah wasn't privy to. "Well, best to keep this whole business away from her then, as much as it is possible to do so now that her interest was aroused," she shrugged lightly. It was better to know whom to be wary of ahead of time, even if it meant that opponent (if the foreign girl could be termed as such) now possessed an unfortunate piece of information. Still, she'd have come across it sooner or later. Admittedly, Linah wasn't concerned about Eun-Ji's possible agenda, but she'd keep it in mind. She knew very well that she could be somewhat careless about matters she didn't consider relevant to herself - that was something she yet needed to work on, broadening the scope of what concerned her.
Penny found herself distracted by Linah's dessert selection. Mille Fueille, she thought. It was a regular at the family dinner table, and roughly ninety percent sugar. More important, however, was the Torragonese girl's take on Blood Magic. "I mentioned that somebody should probably check that box, and if it is indeed a class, investigate it." She looked at the slowly-cooling food on her plate for a minute, not particularly appetized by the sight of it. She generally ate better back at home. But you are not Penelope of Perrence, she told herself, you are Penny Pellegrin - daughter of a humble printer, and food such as this would be a rare treat. You must eat it. "I do not think any magic is inherently evil: just... some of the people who use it may be."
Whatever Linah may or may not have said next was lost, for then, Ardredelle Latvar stood, rang a bell, and informed everybody that there were five minutes left before their food would be cleared and there would be a series of speeches. Stragglers had already been filtering back in for the past few minutes, and they joined or rejoined the tables. Conversation either picked up or died down, but it appeared, for now, that the mystery of the supposed secret blood magic course would have to wait and that Penny Pellegrin, Anesin Bjelke, and anybody else who'd received that invitation (and maybe even some who hadn't) would have a decision to make this evening.
Having slipped away from the luncheon, Leon proceeded back to Fades-in-Moonlight's home. He would get away with his current look around his peers but his company would expect a higher level of decorum. The walk back would be the last of the abundant sunlight as Leon later emerged with a stylish shirt and cape on.
Leon had been told precious little about how he and the Doge were to actually meet. He only had an address and, when he went to it, he found it to be a rather humble-looking storefront just off of the main strip of Parade Street. There was a nondescript carriage waiting for him and he might've recognized the coachman as one in the Doge's employ.
Shortly, it brought him to a well-appointed but by no means pretentious townhome on a smaller street in the Merchants' Quarter, not too far from the guild and market. Leon found himself led through the doors by a pretty servant girl of some exotic extraction. Inside, but not inside, taking his midday wine on a covered verandah, was Prospero Malatesta. He smiled warmly at the sight of Leon. Perhaps it was real warmth and perhaps he was, himself, a practiced showman. "Welcome, my boy." He held his hands out in the start of a traditional Revidian greeting. You were supposed to kiss each other on the cheeks. "It was good of you to make it. We have much to discuss but, first, you've had a busy day. Let us eat."
Leon had actually exchanged looks with the servant girl. She was indeed pretty and had atypical features to the standard affair around the city. Such a thing was interesting to Leon. However, the second the doors to the Doge opened Leon was looking straight ahead toward him.
Leon's smile grew wider as he greeted Malatesta. "I am honoured as always, Doge." Leon knew the traditional Revidian greeting and had no issues carrying it out for someone he respected so much. When it came to Malatesta, being the Doge was the least of things that gained Leon's respect. The man was a patron and a friend among other things.
"It's true, this morning has been a little busier than what I am used to." Leon let out a small chuckle. "But it is all in good fun, of course. You seem in good spirits as well. Some time in Ersand'Enise must be treating you well." Leon picked a single grape and ate it, wordlessly singalling he was beginning to eat.
"Mmm, yes. 'Something about the air here,' is what I tell people." There may have been a slight chuckle. Then again, there may not have. In any case, the Doge began eating, and he ate shamelessly. There was no need for unnecessary decorum here, and so he dispensed with it. The light fruits gave way to steak, cheeses, and other impeccably-prepared Revidian staples, silently brought in on platters by the same servant girl and the scraps brought back out the way they had entered. Leon might've noticed that his patron declined to speak while in the presence of third parties, but he did not make it so obvious. In any event, it was just smalltalk for much of their meal. Prospero inquired about how the journey had been for Leon and how he was enjoying Ersand'Enise so far, but he also ate quickly.
Leon had sought to match the Doge's eating. He was glad he did not have to keep etiquette around the man like he found with so many other nobles. Although there was a distinct reservation in the boy's eating, which could be easily chalked up to not being as hungry. The breakfast he had was large was all.
As for the matter of talking, Leon picked up on his occassional pauses when the servant came in. He understood the sort of control needed for negotiations and serious discussion. But this was little but small talk so far. Leon whimsically wondered if it was a habit for the Doge at this point.
Finally, the Doge reclined a touch in his chair, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a cloth. "I do hope the food was to your liking. Now, I'm afraid, it is time for us to exchange business." He sat back up, placed the kerchief down, and gave a signal with one hand. Silently, the servant girl swept in, gathered the food, and departed the way she had come in, leaving only a single, empty platter behind. Prospero Malatesta reached into a satchel that was beside his chair and pulled out an envelope. "I have, in here," he announced, "the details of your birth and the first year of your life. You had mentioned, in passing, an interest in such, and so I thought it my perogative to acquire this for you." He placed the envelope on the table between them. "Such things are of importance to some men and of less to others, but it is useful to know regardless and I hope that it is of consequence to you."
Leon took a good pause at the Doge mentioning the details of his birth. His expression was notably somber. Despite all his talk about parental figures he took to, his true origin was something he longed for. It wasn't something he told a lot of people, but the Doge seemed to be an exception. Leon had assumed that such information wouldn't be used against him. Sure enough, telling Malatesta was beneficial to him. Information that he would otherwise never know was right in front of him, he only need to find out what the Doge wanted in return.
Perhaps Leon would've reached for the envelope and perhaps he would not have, but his patron steepled his fingers and leaned forward, posting his elbows on the tabletop. "I truly hope that this brings you answers, but on the subject of knowledge and consequence, I have my own request of you, and it is of great import." The Doge's eyes fixed upon Leon, studying his reaction.
After his pause dwelling in thought, Leon leaned back in his chair making no attempt to grasp the envelope. He knew how these things work and knew to have the respect to hear the request before trying to claim the reward. Leon's smile returned. "This is good news, to be sure. I am sure you know where my talents lie, let me hear this request."
The Doge smiled, and there may have been some genuine warmth in it or there may not have been. "I'm going to be frank with you, Leon. That information was not easy to get, but I got it because I think it'll be important for you and because I'm relying on your discretion. What I'm about to ask will not be easy. It will not be without risk, and it must not leave this room." Prospero reached out with the Gift and Leon could feel the sound deaden in the air around him, as if nothing would enter or leave the bubble surrounding the two of them.
"Something happened yesterday, in the plaza. It was brief, but perhaps you felt it: a flicker of wrongness, a feeling of forgetfulness, a great, split-second surge of energy. Then again," he continued, "maybe you did not." The Doge glanced around, his normally serene bearing unusually wary. "Something of great import took place. I cannot say for certain what it was and I believe that there are powerful forces within the academy who would like it to stay that way. They think that they have more right to that information because they have a better way with the Gift than we do. They somehow suppose that it means they'll make better decisions."
Leon had thought back to the event in the plaza. Something weird wriggled at the back of his mind about it, something seemed off. But it was a trace memory as if trying to recall it was grasping at something only his finger tips could touch. Leon could not say for sure if it indicated some significant event like the Doge claimed. However, Ersand'Enise sat on the land of Revidia. To have even the leader be out of the loop of those events indeed indicated something more sinister.
Prospero paused and took a sip of wine, placing the chalice down and pouring a second one for Leon. "What I need from you is to use your skills, your celebrity, and your position here as a student." His fingers closed upon the edge of the single, empty tray. He handed it to Leon and... it did feel a bit heavier than it should've. "This is a sealed item. It is similar in appearance to the heated trays that the Arch-Zenos use to keep their food warm while they study. Yet, inside is a device that will activate itself when its power words are spoken - you need not worry about those. It has energy enough to last for three days, and it will enscribe, on a wax ring inside, a record of all conversations. I need you to get this inside the Forked Tower in the Violet Enclave. You do not need to retrieve it. It will be discarded as all of those binding-sealed heated platters are discarded once used up. I have people to see to that, but I have none so ideally placed and skilled as to carry off this mission." He sniffed and drummed on the tabletop with his fingertips. "Oh, I have spies, but they have their spies too and the groups know each other. Who would ever be so daft as to use Leon Solaire as his agent, though?" His face grew mirthful for a moment, but was soon serious - heavy - again. He raised his wineglass partway to his lips, but paused. "I do not ask this of you lightly, but I have heard whisperings and I have seen signs, and a man in my position does not rise so high nor last so long without being able to recognize when something terrible lurks on the horizon." He raised his cup and took a long, thoughtful drink.
Leon picked up the chalice the Doge had poured and took a sip, enjoying the sweet taste. After, he had a small polite laugh to himself. But it was certainly audible for the Doge to hear. "If you had lead with this, you wouldn't have needed to show the record of my birth. It is not their place to keep secrets from the ruler of Revidia. Such a thing seems selfish and with disregard for the land and people Ersand'Enise is built on. I agree with you and will help you in this plan. That information you gathered just means I will do a good job of it. Now... I believe we can toast on a deal well struck, no?" Leon raised his chalice toward the Doge.
Afterward, taking a sip or two, Leon asked something that was nagging at him. "By 'their spies', you do mean the Academy's, correct? Or do you suspect other parties to be at play in all this?"
Prospero had known, of course, or at least imagined that Leon would be eager to help. The information on the boy's parentage was something he'd had sitting around for some time and, as this was the first instance in which he had really called upon the performer for anything of import, it was a guarantee against the troubles and counteroffers he might encounter turning him against his patron. Besides, it was good to be thought of as generous. True, it was better to be feared than loved, but being loved was plenty beneficial as well. He schooled his features into seriousness, swirling the wine in his chalice thoughtfully."My dear Leon, I believe that, if you're asking the question, you know the answer."
"Yes, I believe I do." Leon took a final sip of the chalice.
With that, Prospero nodded solemnly and stood. He downed the last of his wine and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He tapped on the platter still in Leon's hands. "Keep your head down and chin up, son." He took a step past the youth, pausing momentarily and leaning in. "There are going to be moves made at the Conclave in two days - big moves. Powerful people will be angry, so my advice would be to stay in your lane for now. Outside of this thing that I need you to do, keep being an artist. Keep being loved." He clapped Leon on the shoulder. "Carriage will be waiting around the side. It'll drop you back off on Parade street." With that, he brushed past and the sound dampening disappeared. The chirps of birds, the bustle of the street, and the clunk of a door closing returned to Leon Solaire.
@Medili Love him! Also, that's our first intro to one of the members of the Dieci Volti. Honestly, I'm considering making the first THO-related spinoff (probably not until at least the summer) centered around Constantia's assassins.
Truth be told, Junia was exhausted. Her journey back to Rome has been a harrowing one. They liked to say that all roads led there. Yet, it had seemed as if all led from the great city. She could've sworn she'd been the only soul heading towards it - a profoundly unsettling feeling to be sure. It had been nearly a week's worth of stealth, sudden terror, and fighting. In her head, she'd told herself that it was just like those games of hide-and-seek she'd played with her brothers and sisters as a child, but the stakes were life or death and there was no missing that. Then, after she'd made it back to the Palatine against staggering odds, hoping to find dear Fabius and Quintus alive, an overenthusiastic sentry had nearly skewered her with a spear. She vaguely remembered her boastful jest at the the time that she knew that she looked half-dead and surely felt it but, just as surely, was not yet ready to be counted among the mortui.
She'd had a day to search and recover, but it had hardly been restful. Her dear ones were yet missing and she felt aches in parts of her body that she had not previously known even existed. Already, she had been engaged as a scout and skirmisher, her almost-preternatural quickness and stealth an asset, yet she felt the skepticism of these men on the front lines - so many of them ex-legionnaires, so many rugged and brawny, gruff and hardened. They were not unkind. They simply had not yet accepted her as one of them and might never do so. That was no matter. Junia had her part to do even if, in her heart of hearts, she had begun to suspect she had made herself into a trapped rat in the name of a lost cause. Best to burn the city, the dead, and everybody in it at this point, she thought. Flee to the countryside in small groups, and hunt down the mortui gradually. Her personal feelings on the matter weren't of much consequence, though. She would spend some days here and perhaps longer if the situation improved but, if not, she would risk herself again. Better to die trying to live than holed up and waiting to die. She'd make a break for it. She'd done so once and could do it again or so she tried to convince herself.
Casca, the ex-centurion with the bad hand, put that whistle in his mouth that she'd heard before. She knew what it meant when he blew it. Junia hopped up onto the barricade, gladius in hand, nerves on fire, scanning the burgeoning wave of mortui and trying not to project a sense of courage and belief that she did not truly feel.
Penny furrowed her brow. Somebody had written a list of... reagents...groceries... on her course registry form. Truly, she was glad to be seated. She had stuffed the forms in her satchel without much thought, exhausted, hands full with her crutches, and eager to be off of her foot. Now, however, she had a mystery to solve. Lemon, vinegar, alum, quill... The girl blinked, recognizing something about those items. Arcel had mentioned some of them when talking about the correspondence she was to deliver for him. They would be... She paused, glancing around momentarily to see if anybody was paying her very much attention. Yes! That was it! All of these have to do with invisible ink!
She was seated at a table with her group and three others. She recognized most of them from yesterday's celebrations, including one of the other Perrench girls she'd sat with and... Leon Solaire had excused himself, along with Onarr. She couldn't help but wonder why a bit, but she supposed they had their own business to attend to and it would not do well to be nosy. This is some sort of coded message from one of my brother's people. She was certain. Anesin was beside her and Penny had thought about mentioning the list to her. Instead, all that had taken place was a handful of awkward, anxious glances over, a moment of fleeting eye contact, and a blush. Presently, the Perrench girl was busy stuffing her face in a most unladylike manner, waiting for a conversational or situational rescue. The hall was great and cavernous, filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery. Her world seemed small, though, now: focused. Ingredients for invisible ink written on my page! Surely, that had a purpose! Was it Arcel who wanted something from her, one of his contacts, or another matter altogether?
Below, you'll find the character that I've made for a theoretical roleplaying game set in a university ESL program. This doubles as coursework for EDUC2720.
Zheng Zǐhán
It's good to work hard, but you need to 'work smart' too.
19 | Male | Suzhou, China | Toronto, Canada | University Student
Zǐhán is fluent in Mandarin and was an avid reader growing up, though he prefers gaming to books. He also speaks a little bit of Shanghainese, as it is fairly common in the region (Suzhou is very close to Shanghai and there are many cultural and historical ties). He knows some Japanese words and phrases due to an interest in anime and its similarities to his first language.
He learned English from first grade in school growing up and was also enrolled in weekend and after-school programs, like many other children of his generation. While he has a fairly strong reading skills and a reasonable vocabulary, the profound grammatical differences between Mandarin Chinese and English can often prove problematic for him. He can read better than he can write and can speak better than he can often understand spoken English. All in all, he can get by in the language, but doesn't feel fluent and sometimes feels lost when asked to write academically at a high level in English. It can be a source of anxiety.
C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E
Most people would consider Zǐhán fairly unremarkable. He's somewhat good looking but doesn't really stand out. Black hair, deep brown eyes, and about 175 cm in height. Unlike some of his peers, who dress in flashy or fashionable clothes and others who just toss on whatever was on the floor as they rush off to classes, he just dresses like an everyman. He has thought of exploring a more flamboyant style, but this has become increasingly discouraged in his homeland as of late, and he doesn't feel strongly enough about it to want to rock the boat.
B A C K G R O U N D
Zǐhán grew up on the fourteenth story of a fairly exclusive apartment complex not far from the TaiHu (Lake Tai) waterfront in Suzhou. His parents are not rich, but they're fairly well off, and currently own two other units, which they use as rental properties. He has a sister, also named Zǐhán (though it is spelt with different characters in Chinese and has a slightly different, though related, meaning). She is considerably younger than him and was born after the abolishment of the one-child policy. Sometimes, because he shares a name with his sister and since his name is more common as a girls' name (though not uncommon as a boys' name), he's received a bit of teasing. He pretends it bothers him less than it really does.
In school, despite being identified as a very intelligent student, Zǐhán was not an especially high achiever, and was censured more than once for his inability to sit still in class and follow routines. In particular, he struggled with mathematics, not doing well with the rote repetition favoured in its teaching. A doctor would later diagnose him with a mild form of ADHD, but this was not widely shared due to the stigma attached in many circles. He nonetheless had their support and developed his own management strategies. Fortunately, Zǐhán was generally a good test-taker and had a strong memory, so school wasn't as bad for him as it might've been for some with learning differences.
While his marks in high school weren't bad, they weren't good enough to get him into a top tier university either in the business administration program that his parents had wanted for him. As a result and also because his parents thought that it would be good for him to experience some of the world, he found himself applying to schools in Canada. He was accepted into U of T, joining a large cohort of fellow Chinese students there. He finds it comforting to be able to speak his home language and gradually acclimate to an English-speaking environment, though he also feels anxious that he's using it as a crutch and not acclimating quickly and thoroughly enough.
M O T I V A T I O N
Zǐhán wants to prove to his parents and what he feels are his naysayers that he's still the same smart kid he was identified as when he was young. He wants to live independently, experience what he can of Canada while he's here, and learn skills that will serve him well upon his return home. He's hesitant to look for anything romantic, as he doesn't necessarily intend to stay and it represents a potential complication. At the end of the day, he wants the things that most people want: a stable income, people who care about him, and interests that engage him.
I N V E N T O R Y
Zǐhán carries his cellphone with him everywhere, and his laptop is often in a satchel. He drives a 2013 Mercedes CLV and tries not to carry too much cash in his wallet. He also has a little good luck charm that his sister made for him before he left. He misses her more than he's ever likely to admit and fears that he'll be a stranger when he comes back home.
S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S
❖ Multilingualism ❖ Sense of Humour ❖ Memory ❖ Cross-Cultural Perspective ❖ Work Ethic
W E A K N E S S E S & S T R U G G L E S
❖ English Grammar ❖ Anxiety ❖ Focus ❖ Self-regulation (especially when it comes to gaming) ❖ Lacking cultural context in Canada sometimes
M I S C E L L A N E O U S
Zǐhán's favourite games are Valorant and League of Legends. He knows that it's a bit stereotypical, but those are communities that he feels comfortable in and challenges that he enjoys.
They arrived all at once. First it was Yimu and then it was Selio. Marlijn tried to stifle a yawn and was only half-successful. The Rettanese girl was not half as subtle as she likely thought herself, and the creak of her bed, flip of her pages, and candlelight as she'd spent half of last night reading had made it more than a little difficult for Marlijn to sleep. Then, with zero thanks and even less general etiquette, she just sat down and started stuffing her face. "When do we start learning?" she asked in an almost-demanding tone.
Marlijn Vaanse often struggled to see the worth in formality, but even she found herself irked and struggled to keep a sour look from her face, eyes sliding over to the Zeno. She had started to consider opening her mouth. Then, he did.
"We already are," he said simply. "You started learning the moment you first opened your eyes. You will only stop learning once you close them for the final time. Why, you are learning this very moment. You are learning something of my approach and philosophy and that the food here is very good. There are some things that you have already learned." He smiled patiently, "and some that I yet hope you learn - of the Gift and a great many other matters. Perhaps you will learn how to cast an illusion or manipulate liquids and gases with great skill. I shall instruct you on these things. I should also hope you will learn the value of gratitude and politeness towards Megga, who cooked the meal that you are so enjoying." His gaze fell upon the Rettanese girl sternly but not unkindly. "And learning is not only something you receive," he continued after a moment, eyes flicking up towards the stairs, "but also something you give. We are learning about you as you speak and act. We are forming opinions on you and what sort of companion you will be, just as you form opinions on the various things you may glean from a book: which will contribute to your growth and which are best discarded. Learning is all around you, in many forms," he concluded. "Give and receive it wisely. That is your lesson before we set off for the day."
It was right around then that the third member of their apprentice group revealed himself: the tall Torragonese boy: Selio. Marlijn supposed that she'd found him vaguely handsome too, though all she'd really sensed last night was a tiredness. He, too, dug into his food with great gusto, but at least he was somewhat more polite about it. Marlijn was nearly done eating and she stole another glance in his direction, noticing his eyes on her. Quickly, she looked away. She could feel his gaze, sporadically, and she tried not to blush. Zeno Mozaru dominated the table from its head, ready to dispense further wisdom. For the benefit of the latecomers, he reiterated their plan for the day and bade them prepare. Then, he rose. Marlijn rose too, making her way into the atrium and glancing upstairs for any sign of Vyrik.
He appeared just as the other two joined her and their master near the door, bounding down the steps, greeting them quickly, and snatching up some food as Zeno Mozaru led them out the door. He looked an awful mess, as always and Marlijn found herself rather unimpressed with him, after all. Still, she twisted and glanced behind herself as their group was about to turn the corner. Vyrik came racing after them and she wasn't sure whether it was a chuckle or a groan that she had to suppress.
Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight's Group
Hmmm. So with all this feast, he was going to give the rest to the poor. Leon wondered if Jomurr was the kind of guy to try everything only leaving half-eaten scraps. The matter bothered Leon, but he decided not to bring it up. It was all too early in the morning for any type of conflict.
Leon pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and lounged on it. “No clue about her. She doesn’t seem like the type to sleep in though.” Leon adjusted his bracelets, making sure they aren’t too out of place. “I’ll go wake her up if need be.”
Jomurr pressed his lips together for a moment, busy setting the table as he’d seen his servants do. While this work was most certainly beneath one of his station and talents, it was an intriguing challenge, at least. Having a thought, he paused and concentrated, pulling energy from the sunlight, the motion of wagons on the street, and the chemical reactions taking place within the food. Forks, knives, and plates flew out of the cupboards and placed themselves on the table. It was… imperfect work but, for a first time doing so, acceptable. He fiddled with the details momentarily and glanced up from his work at Solaire’s offer. “Indeed, she seems rather the ambitious sort. Charming, but… motivated - not at all the type to sleep in.” He paused. “Yes, if you’d be a good man and go take care of that, I can finish with this table setting.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Carmillia. She had just made her way into the dining room and caught the end of their conversation. Jomurr was right, she was indeed not the type to sleep in. Carmillia had already been up earlier but chose to remain in her room in order to further ruminate over what Flavius had told her.
“Good morning Jomurr, Leon,” said Carmillia, addressing each of them respectively. Leon was shirtless but she chose not to bring it up. Addressing his toned body would only fan his ego. She noticed their Zeno was nowhere to be seen. “Is Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight still asleep?” she continued.
She’d addressed him first, as was proper, and she looked to be in good spirits. This day was off to a rather good start, Jomurr decided, absence of his master aside. He cleared his throat and motioned at the letter. “Far from it, it seems. Appears that our fourth member decided to go for a little stroll late last night and Zeno Moonlight is at great pains to retrieve her.” He shrugged - “I recommend reading that at some point.” - and heaved a small sigh: nothing big and demonstrative. “Seeing as there wasn’t much in the way of breakfast, unless you’d rather eat cold oatmeal, I took it upon myself to provide one.” He gestured with a restrained sort of grandeur at the table and its sumptuous settings. “Please, be seated and partake.”
Carmillia showed no particular reaction when Illanaq was mentioned. Having understood more of Jomurr’s temperament, she chose to respond to him first before heading for the letter.
“Perhaps the stress of our new environment has gotten to her,” she said. Carmillia then chose to change the topic. “This is… quite a feast, Jomurr.”
Jomurr tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Yes it is, isn’t it.” He took up a serviette and affixed it around his neck, about to seat himself before there was a knock at the door.
“Here, let me get the last of the food” Leon mentioned as he walked over to meet the boy’s last delivery. He handed him one of his own lemon tarts as a tip. They didn’t need it in the first place. Before the boy had much chance to respond, Leon closed the door and swung around with the food. “Breakfast is served.”
Jomurr took his seat at the head of the table, making sure to grab the correct cutlery for his appetizer before starting. “Right, thank you, my good man.”
Carmillia eyed the small feast that adorned the dining table. Hotcakes, tarts, ham and the like, even an entire pheasant. It was unlikely that the three of them could ever finish half of what was present. “You have my thanks,” she continued. With her gratitude given, Carmillia reached out for the note and scanned its contents.
“Ah, indeed. It’s ours to eat, so let’s, ahem… I believe it’s ‘dig in’, you commonfolk say, yes?”
Carmillia refrained from raising an eyebrow at Jomurr’s playful jibe. The young Belzaggic man was in a far better mood compared to the day prior, possibly due to the fact Illanaq was no longer present.
“Lets,” she said.
Leon needed no more invitation. He swung around back into his chair and commenced ‘digging in.’ On the contrary, Leon kept his eating very reserved and polite, making very little mess at all. You could call it practice from the odd meeting with the Doge. But Leon knew how to act around the higher class and rather enjoyed beating them at their own game.
Mirroring Leon, Carmillia stuck to etiquette. Life on the streets had taken the skill away from her but it was second nature for her once more, having reacquired the habit from constantly interacting with nobles on business ventures.
For his part, Jomurr Ikon the Third was utterly chuffed to bits at this glorious display of etiquette. He would yet make respectable members of society out of this lot, a shirt or two notwithstanding. He dared think of himself as their guide to high society - a mentor figure in his own right, leading them down a path of… Oh my, he thought. That would not do. Leon was quite the polite eater, but he was holding his glass with his pinky finger unraised. You always raised your pinky finger when drinking. No matter, he counseled himself, it was a work in progress and, in the grand scheme of things, a relatively minor offense. Presently, the performer’s finger did pop up and Jomurr hid his grin behind his glass. Good show. “So, I suppose you’ve read the note,” he said to Carmillia, after a few moments had passed. Jomurr glanced up at the clock. “We should be heading to master Zemana’s shortly. Perhaps we shall leave some food for the others if they come here first? Likely they will be famished.”
“Yes, I have,” she responded.
Though it was entirely possible for Illanaq to make a reappearance, something told Carmillia that they would not be seeing the Rettanese for the foreseeable future. She considered the Rettanese’s disappearance to be a stroke of good luck. Not only did it serve as a hint regarding the Traveler, they no longer had to deal with someone antagonizing Jomurr.
Carmillia jumped at the opportunity Jomurr presented her. As delicious as the food was, she’d already had her fill. “Yes, I’m sure they would appreciate it if we kept some of the food for them. As for Zeno Zemana, he’s likely waiting on us to make our appearance and it doesn’t seem like Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight will be back any time soon.”
“Are you ready as well, Leon?” she continued.
“I’m ready to go any time.” Leon tossed his other unfinished lemon tart in the air and caught it. He then began walking off toward the door.
Carmillia's eyes quickly flicked between the shirtless man and Jomurr. As usual, Leon behaved as though he was oblivious to his surroundings. Whether or not it was intentional, Carmillia had yet to determine.
“Shall we, Jomurr?” she asked.
Had she gone ahead of him behind Leon, Jomurr would likely have thrown a fit at being disrespected. She sighed inwardly, even with Illanaq gone, she was still going to have to act as an intermediary between these two.
Jomurr scowled. Artists. And the man wouldn't even put on a shirt… His right eye may have twitched ever so slightly, but he composed himself quickly. There was no intentionality behind it, he believed, unlike with that little beast of a fireblood. "Oh yes, please," he offered, providing only the subtlest hint of disapproval in his tone, "I suppose today is opposite day." He cracked a smirk at the uncouth absurdity of it all and nodded in Carmillia's direction. "Ladies first, at the very least," he chided Leon, disinterested in actually picking a fight of any sort. "Remember your better sense, man!" And, with that, Jomurr was - more or less - ready to go.
Zeno Hamir Zemana's Group
At Eun-Ji's offer of help, Hamir Zemana merely chuckled. "Oh, haha, no need, my dear girl. All that is required is that you seat yourself at the table with young master Hohenfelter here and prepare yourself for breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, I always say - wakes the brain up, and you're going to need your brain!" He paused, busy working a frying pan over his stovetop, drawing and expelling thermal energy to even out the cooking. "Tan Keoulean, right?" He asked, but it wasn't really a question. "I remember having scallion pancakes from there once upon a time." Her cleared his throat and concentrated for a moment, whisking over to a nearby cauldron, peering in, and stirring it with kinetic magic as he hustled back to the fire. "I've done my best to recreate them here," he grunted. "Hopefully they live up to your expectations."
Manfred, for his part, reached out with a hand as opposed to a kinetic grasp and pulled a chair out for Eun-Ji. "If it's half as good as this potato omelette, it'll make your day." He avoided meeting her eyes, but managed a brief smile before going back to his plate.
The trio had barely had the chance to get settled with each other when their attention was grabbed by a commotion on the stairs. It was Mayu, and she was headed for a painful fall. With his years of experience and naturally quick reflexes, the Zeno reached out and drew most of the kinetic energy from her, seamlessly redirecting it into a whisk he had going in a nearby bowl. The fall... wasn't that bad. He shot his other apprentices a cautionary look not to laugh at the poor dear thing and they didn't seem the type to anyways.
“G-good morning everyone. T-today looks like it’s going to be a wonderful day!” said Mayu awkwardly. Her cat, which truly, the Zeno had sensed from the outset, hopped up on her shoulder and she looked horrified.
"Indeed," replied Manfred, and there may have been the hint of a smirk on his lips, but it was hard to tell. "Seems your secret kitty agrees."
Kurbis had first made a shy appearance this morning, skulking between hiding places and getting the lay of the land. He once again appeared, his big orange face peering skeptically out from beneath a Virangish-style recliner. Zeno Zemana let out a bark of laughter at this. "Haha, nice to see the little fella," he declared. "With two of them, I doubt we'll have much trouble with mice. Now, why don't you sit down, child. The Perrench Toast is just about finished."
No sooner had he said it than there was a knock on the door and both felines made themselves scarce in their own separate ways. On the other side were... a pale, pretty Perrench girl, A posh-looking Belzaggic boy, and... Leon Solaire himself.
Zeno Sienna Afraval's Group
Penny hurried down the stairs, managing to feel at once excited, contrite, and physically wretched. Upon catching her first sight of Onarr, she blinked. Ah, so there is a real human being under there! Truly, she liked Onarr greatly, even at this early juncture. Despite their exhaustion the night before, the girls had briefly gathered in the same room and talked for a few minutes as they lay awake in bed in their nightgowns. One of them had joked that perhaps Onarr was actually some fay creature under his helmet, or else a ghost. Alas, he was just a particularly small boy with... a lot of hair, a charming smile, and what looked like a handful of burn marks - she hypothesized from an experiment gone wrong, perhaps.
The girl completed her thank yous and listened as her master outlined the day's activities. Definitely a two crutch sort of day, she decided, feeling more an invalid than usual. Yesterday had already prodded at her limits and she was not looking forward to what today might do to them. Then, however, Onarr had a question: "Would there be any courses you would recommend for us to do?"
At that, Sienna paused, placing her fork back on her plate. "What an eager and excellent question, Onarr." She smiled appreciatively if not a touch indulgently and her expression presently turned pensive. "If I were to offer one piece of advice before the fact, it would be this: choose at least one course that you're passionate about - that you truly want to do and that you could see feeding into a lifelong calling. Then," she added, furrowing her brow for a flicker of time, "choose something that's a risk: one that you're less familiar with but possibly intrigued by - one that'll help expand your horizons." She paused for a moment and nodded. "Hmm, yes. That's what I'd say."
A Tour of Campus
It was... quite an eclectic group that made its way about campus. Eight groups, truly, for the Biros were divided into eight informal 'collegia', each headed by an Arch-Zeno, the Zenith, or the Paradigm (who did not actually travel with his students on account of his greatly advanced age).
As they walked, their college administrators spoke. They started in front of the Aquiline Fountain in the center of the Grand Plaza, and soon made their way to Balthazar Hall, where much of the school's administrative work took place and where most all of their courses in the languages and academic stream were to be held, as well as a handful from the arts stream. They were led to Medeville Place, where a great greenhouse - nearly two hundred feet high and temperature regulated through the use of the Gift, acted as home to flora from all across the known world. They were shown the Treacle and Habregon Buildings, which housed laboratories for the natural sciences, chemists and alchemists, a grand telescope for viewing the stars and planets, and a runecrafter for the sealing of magics into mundane items. Next was Indigo Theatre: a grand performance venue for orchestra, drama, and receptions, along with smaller and more intimate performance rooms. Some might've marveled at the Sanz-Petterel Clocktower with its massive, faintly glowing clock face depicting hours, days, months, and seasons, sculpted from gold, ivory, and lapis lazuli. There were the noble, merchant, and 'everyone else' dorms, and the Biros were shown their rooms and entrusted with their keys for the night after this one.
Flagging in energy and attention, perhaps, they reached the Grand Library of the Magical Arts and the Mundane. They scarce had time to marvel at the ten stories of tomes, maps, scrolls, and scientific tools, much less the fabulous central atrium and the star-shaped glass dome one hundred-fifty feet above their heads - the largest of its sort anywhere in the world - and they were ushered onwards. The stylish facade of Blackbriar Manor seemed almost to welcome them in with its stone chimneys, great bay windows, and cozy nooks and fireplaces, yet they skipped it for the time being. Finally, the exhausted students reached Arc-en-Ciel Hall, with its gorgeous rainbow stained glass windows and cavernous lecture halls. It was here that their tour ended and they found themselves inside of one of those very great spaces, course registry papers thrust into their hands.
"A moment of your attention," called a voice from the podium at the far end. It was none other than Zenith Upta's, and the way that it boomed inside of their skulls made clear that it was magically enhanced. "We will be taking a recess of one and a half hours so that you may enjoy a luncheon." Two sets of double doors opened at one end of the hall and dozens of finely-liveried servants strode in, pushing hand-carts piled high with a buffet. This, they began presently setting on a series of tables. "Dare I say this would be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know some of your instructors and your fellow students." She seemed almost to meet all of their eyes as she spoke, whether through magic or simply as a practiced speaker, one could not be certain. "After this, we shall reconvene at 4:00 Dorrad and you will be given the opportunity to learn more about some of your options at this, your home and school for the next five years. For the time being, however, you are dismissed!"
At these words, twenty five long tables appeared seemingly out of nowhere, set and ready to be eaten at. The setting out of the buffet had concluded as well, and all that was left was for students to find their places (for all tables were labelled by Zeno group even though the Zenos themselves sat separately, with the other faculty), help themselves to some food, and do whatever it was that they were going to do.
1) Students received a brief, summative tour of campus, including the dorms, technically off of campus proper 2) They received course selection forms which they are to fill out. Perhaps they'd like to see what their peers are taking. 3) There will be speeches with detailed course descriptions after lunch if people want to wait that long. However, they can approach faculty after eating or explore a bit of campus since they have ample time. 4) All four of our groups are sharing the same table. The four NPC groups also listed on the spreadsheet are seated at one of the tables beside theirs. 5) Please ensure that, by the end of this posting cycle (Saturday), I am made aware of your course selections.
Description: Juni's a tall, athletic woman in her later twenties, with dark wavy hair and brown eyes. Despite a couple of small scars picked up along the way, she's somewhat good-looking, I guess, though that's hardly a concern for her at the moment. She used to dress quite well, but, well... a zombie apocalypse is a zombie apocalypse and practicality comes first. Romans used to be practical, back in the Republic days. Remember those good ol' times?
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Social Class: Equite
Nationality: Roman, from a rather old family with a fair bit of Corinthian heritage somewhere back in their gens.
Personality: Junia's generally sharp, decisive, and quick on the uptake. She's known in particular for her scathing tongue and competitive nature and this can definitely rub some people the wrong way. She'd like to say that she doesn't care, but she does. Generally, she picks her targets and can read a room well. There's a rambunctious playfulness there too, but it's taken a back seat during these dark times. Junia can stand on ceremony if she needs to, but she'd rather not. She both can and prefers to make people laugh, though her jokes sometimes have a barb and she doesn't always respond well to being on the receiving end. In general, she's a reasonably moral individual and a hard worker, especially when she senses that her work will be rewarded.
Brief Backstory: The second oldest of five children (and first of three sisters) born into a middling equestrian family that has a long martial tradition and has always hovered right on the edge of noteworthiness, Junia was drawn to games and sports from an early age, often tagging along with her older brother, Fabius Phillipus Gratus, and later chaperoning her younger siblings to the ball courts. She has always enjoyed being active and is a legitimately talented athlete, particularly with regards to the games of Harpastum and Trigon. Few of the women in her part of the city have ever been able to hold their own against her on the courts. Of course, it is rare for a woman to be so involved in athletics, but it serves as an outlet for her ample restless energy, which could not find expression on the battlefield like it did for her brothers and husband.
When the plague hit, she was in Sicilia at the invitation of a prominent fresco artist and, unofficially, as a participant in an informal ball tournament. Her skill, despite being unable to earn her any sort of living, still noteworthy enough as a hobby that it had been recognize. Her husband, who had given her leave to go, remained in Rome with her young son. In her heart, she has given them up for dead, along with her sisters and beloved older brother, but she makes a show of keeping the faith and holds out perhaps a sliver of hope that they will be reunited. She isn't optimistic, though.
Equipment: Junia has a mule and it carries a bag full of her possessions, including a fair bit of coin, some jewellery (including a pendant from her husband), a couple of balls, flint, clothing, bandages, needle and thread, a fishing net (which she doesn't use very well), and a couple days' worth of food and water. She has a long spear (pilum) that is her go-to weapon for dealing with...undead issues, a shortsword, and a handful of daggers. If it really comes down to it, however, she'd prefer to run rather than fight, or to hide if she senses that running is not an option.
Skills: Junia's a woman... in ancient Rome. When it came to anything martial, that was strike one, two, and three against her. Still, though never formally trained as a fighter, she's about as good as one could expect a member of her sex to be. Tall, athletic, and quick, she's learned how to hold her own. Early childhood sparring, for fun, with her brothers equipped her with the bare fundamentals of sword and spear. She's added quite a bit to that out of necessity since the plague struck but hasn't quite reached the level of a trained soldier, despite her natural aptitude. For what it's worth, she's a damned good ball player and can sing and play a couple of instruments at an acceptable level. More importantly, Juni is frighteningly quick and agile when she needs to be. She can sew quite well too, can cook, and knows how to look after children and a camp. She's never been much interested in literature, but is literate nonetheless. She can be a ruthless liar if it's for a good cause.
Jomurr raised an eyebrow and smirked. "My good man, I know nothing whatsoever of Zeno Zemana or his apprentices, though I've certainly heard of the Iovinas and Hohenfelters." He pursed his lips for a moment and shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out once we meet them. It can't be helped. For now -" He pulled out a chair and rested his weight on the back of it. "-Let us simply relax and enjoy what we can of this feast. What is left shall go to the poor, as Oraff-Zept would will it and as is our responsibility as gentlemen."
That he was in a rather good mood, Jomurr could hardly deny. Perhaps it was the excitement of it all, perhaps it was the opportunity to provide for the others and meet his noble obligations, and perhaps it was simply the absence - however temporary - of that beastly Rettanese girl. Then, he paused, a second absence coming to mind. Taking a couple of steps, Jomurr furrowed his brow and craned his neck in the direction of the steps, positively unlordly for a moment. "By the by -" he half-twisted to regard Solaire "-you haven't caught sight of Miss Carbonneau yet, have you?" Normally, Jomurr would've sent a servant to fetch her but, alas, there were no servants to be found here. He had decided that he could respect Zeno Moonlight, but this was an issue that they truly would need to discuss at some juncture. Instead, he composed himself and decided to wait for the performer's answer.
Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?
Stay awesome, people.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?<br><br>Stay awesome, people.</div>
Kuro
Fallenreaper
Ti
Jumbus
Silly
Echotech71
Astro
Chronic
Lildear18
pantothenic
