Passive Canteen, Brunnhold
Gus was particularly busy at the moment, working on some sort of project with his students and any others who wanted to take an interest in what he did. Apparently it was a hangover from the Arts Fair that had occurred in Bethas, far more people now interested in lithography and engraving and the other talents that the professor cultivated. As they'd had no classes today, they'd all had time to help run the passive ragged. It was meant to be a holiday - St. Grumble's wouldn't finish up until the morrow - and yet they'd all been quite happy to while away their day being artistic - how nice for them! In truth, they'd probably thought it sad to go to the Stacks during the day, preferring the debauchery that they could get up to under the cover of darkness instead. Whatever they were up to, Fionn was bone-tired on their account and hungry. He also hadn't had a quiet moment to do any sketching today although inspiration had been everywhere.
There were plenty of passives here who probably hadn't eaten since breakfast either, many seeming to be wolfing down food as if their lives depended on it. Not that the middle Madden cared. In fact, he thought that all of his fellow scraps were quite inconvenient right now, taking up space like pigs crammed in front of a trough. Not that he'd ever seen that of course but he'd read it and the image seemed right. He didn't think that he was meant to see his peers that way but the little bits of illicit reading he'd been doing were really only supplying him with ways to articulate his feelings. Galdori would probably think that that was dangerous, he suspected that that was one of the reasons why passives weren't meant to read but it didn't actually do any harm; he'd already been smart before he picked up a book again.
As the young man went to get food, he scanned the room, seeking an empty seat beside people who ideally wouldn't be annoying. He had every intention of doing some sketching while he ate and people tended to get a little weird when he did that. Fionn suspected that it was the pencil and paper, the possession of which meant what he did close to writing, which wasn't something passives were meant to do. His handwriting was awful and childish but that was something that he could do as well. He'd actually had more than one Patron get a bit irate when they'd found him drawing, as if he was going to start writing messages and brandishing them in front of his peers to lead them into sin. With the harder graphite pencil, maybe but it'd be a waste of the sharp point and write in a softer pencil? Forget about it!
Not that he'd explained it that way of course. Throwing out the names of galdori professors and the word 'work' had helped though. Still, there was an idea that he was flaunting something in front of the others when he did this and while word seemed to have gotten around to the Matrons and Patrons, he'd found dagger glares aimed his way more than once. He really couldn't give a fuck today though, which was why he had a little palm size pad of drawing paper secreted in his pocket along with two pencils.
They could all whisper about him and eye him cautiously as if he was dangerous because he really couldn't care less. Let them if it gave their pathetic little lives some meaning. He knew that his peers and their overseers talked about him and he had managed to catch the odd snatch of rumour with his name attached before words were snuffed into silence in his presence. Jamie, his roommate, acted a bit oddly around him sometimes and even offered the odd word about what was being said now but he always waved him off. He didn't want to hear what they'd heard, what twisted versions of truth roamed the wilds of the Passive Ward or the absolute chroveshit that had been pulled out of someone's erse about him.
If possible, he tried to avoid those who had reacted in a particularly hostile manner towards him before and he avoided Jamie and Lars of course. Beyond that, he didn't care where he sat; the young man couldn't be bothered trying to cultivate friendships at this point. Even so, he was a little apprehensive when he took an empty seat beside a redheaded girl at a rather full table. It was one thing that still made him uneasy being around passive women, forbidden and yet everywhere. They honestly seemed like a different species a lot of the time and where possible, he avoided rubbing shoulders with them even if he wasn't going to talk to them.
He exhaled softly, telling himself that it was fine as he rooted in his pocket for his drawing things to set beside his bowl of stew, spots of pink blooming in his cheeks as the subdued murmuring ceased as he sat. He pretended not to notice. It didn't bother him, really it didn't. His flush of embarrassment told a different story though. He scooted his bowl more to the right, neared to the end of the table so that he'd have room to draw on the left, darting furtive glances at the girl on that side as he positioned his arm. He didn't want to jostle her, didn't want to be accused of anything that might draw further attention even though he was certain that eyes were upon him.
The passive manoeuvred his spoon in his right hand, feeling the wobble and lesser coordination as it wasn't his dominant one, while the left idly tapped a pencil end on much smudged paper. He was trying to work out what to draw, who to draw. The passive was well aware that he wasn't good at drawing people, wasn't much good at drawing anything really but practice made perfect and he obviously couldn't get better unless he let himself make mistakes. But who to draw, who was interesting?
All of these faces were ones that he'd seen before. Admittedly, there were plenty that he'd never paid any real attention to but the passive population was relatively small and he'd had a chance to see most of them over the years. For instance, the girl beside him was one that he'd seen many times before, especially in the Kitchens when he'd done work in there. A tiny thing, veritably child-like but pretty. Her features held some interest when considered in parts, Fionn finding her wide mouth particularly interesting, gaze lingering there before he realised that he was accidentally staring.
He looked away sharply, the young man shifting position. Obviously he couldn't draw her when she was right there, watching what he was doing. She likely wouldn't appreciate some awful caricature of her own face appearing on the page before her and then he'd have to look and-
As he moved, nervous and guilty, he ended up jabbing his left elbow into her arm, wincing at the contact, the mistake. He leaned away, face truly aflame now so that the freckles at the top of his cheeks disappeared under the red. He made a vain attempt to move his fringe to create some sort of barrier between them but it was inclined to go to the right and he was probably just making a mess of it and making himself look like an idiot.
"Sorry about that, I wasn't trying to- Don't mind me!" he muttered, warily risking a glance at her face, her hands, worried that he might have made her spill her food. He licked his lips, not sure if he should say more or if it was safe to turn away, to angle himself so that he wouldn't even have to view her in his periphery. There were some tuts from others at the table, one passive leaning close to his neighbour to whisper something that sounded like "Have you heard that he- ?" before he forced his concentration away to the pounding of his own pulse in his ears and the sound of his voice.
"I'm very sorry. Truly."