For Science... (Muse)

[Fionn]

Bethas 39, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

The servant was drained. He'd had harder days than this one certainly, those that were more physically taxing and went on for longer but this wasn't pure physical exhaustion he was feeling although that strain wasn't absent here. No, he'd been worn down mentally by his time with Gus and Maddie together, the odd galdori pair succeeding in frustrating and disappointing him, demoralising him at times. He'd been pulled in so many directions emotionally that he almost didn't feel up to going to see Professor Moore and he was the one who had been eagerly seeking a meeting with the man for months!

He was still excited, charged with a nervous, giddy energy at the prospect of seeing the scientist and discussing his own theories and thoughts with the man but the prospect of lying face down on his bed and sighing dolorously also had a certain appeal to it. It'd be all too easy to allow himself to be boneless, lying limply on his bed while letting his mind go blank and his body to rest. Not that his mind was ever truly blank. Not even when he slept could he count of the blessing of peace, not unless he was so weary that everything shut off the moment he hit the mattress.

After the day with the artist and his preening model, Fionn didn't want to consider the effort of going to Laboratory Beta and talking with Harper. Given how insignificant he'd ultimately been made to feel today, he wasn't sure that he actually had something of value to offer.

But he was still bloody curious! It was a longstanding character flaw on his part, the very thing that had earned him some of the scars he bore even though some of his questions had been asked out of genuine interest rather than out of malice or cheek. So even though he felt like the useless husk of some vegetable that ought to be discarded, the young man still felt the pull towards intelligent conversation and knowledge.

Why would Harper have chosen to meet him after these many months? Why did he want to see Fionn now?

Once Madeleine had left - escaping thanks to a kindly reminder from the passive that the girl had to eat - then the servant had the task of cleaning up the materials that Gus had utilised over the course of the day. Drawing and painting implements were gathered up, sorted and carefully stored away. Utensils and surfaces that needed to be cleaned were wiped off, a fine tissue paper was placed between the various pages that had served as the professor's canvases and stored in a neat bundle. The artist lingered as long as Fionn did, not exactly helping as he lost himself in some reverie over the day's subject matter.

When he was at last dismissed, the older man meandering to dinner in one direction while Fionn went in another, the blond was left to wonder if Gus would come right back after his evening meal and set things in disarray in the passive's absence. It wouldn't be the first time that the middle Madden had tidied things only to discover later that his patron had messed everything up again as inspiration struck and he pawed through his own sketches, scattering them haphazardly about the place. The man couldn't be entirely lacking in self-awareness but he still wondered how anyone could make so much mess so thoughtlessly. From what he'd gathered from Niamh, Harper was much the same way. Perhaps slovenliness was the price of genius.

The youth headed for the canteen relegated for passive use, too late to lend a hand in any sort of meal preparation but taking his share all the same. Dinner was stew, a hot and hearty meal although the chill of the last month had finally dissipated. It was a welcome thing all the same, the young man paying little attention to the vague unidentifiable shapes in the viscous brown slop as he shovelled it into him. The only thing that slowed him down was the need to chew and breathe - he couldn't exactly inhale the stuff after all. There were more vegetables in it than meat although they'd been stewed to a point of relative uniformity where taste was concerned but he didn't much care all the same. He did register in a vague way that the meat was a little on the wobbly side and had a tang of metal about it so it was probably offal rather than anything from the outside of a carcass. The galdori got the best after all but waste not, want not.

With his belly full and his mood lifted a little alongside his blood sugars, the blond set off for his appointment with Moore.

Even though it was the end of the week and later in the day, the teenager didn't allow himself to relax too much. His walk was swift and purposeful, not too fast as to appear to be running from something but quick enough to suggest urgency and a definite destination. If someone had flagged him down then he would have had to stop and explain that he was already occupied but that wouldn't necessarily be a deterrent to any galdori who wanted to send him on a job. Thankfully, it wasn't so late that older students were staggering back guttered after a night of revelry in the Stacks because they could cause a special sort of trouble for a passive in the name of their own entertainment. Many of the students weren't actively cruel to passives, many of them felt pity or guilt about their magically defective brethren but there was something about alcohol and drugs that lowered inhibitions which, together with a gaggle of similarly uninhibited peers, made people do things that they wouldn't normally do.

Only when he was almost at his destination did the young man allow himself to relax. The posture slouched, hands finding their way into pockets as his pace slowed, Fionn letting out a long sigh of relief as he rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them. No one was going to bother him now and he might as well try to view the time ahead in a positive light. He was a bit more accustomed to galdori now, a little more aware that those like Moore and Devlin were willing to listen to him so he was less likely to spit bile and frustration and more likely to let his curiosity - and his intelligence - have a bit more free rein. Even if the monic theorist had a purpose in calling him here, Fionn was confident that he could draw what he wanted out of the man; the topic of his research was something that evidently excited him so getting him to talk about it wasn't exactly manipulative. The young man also hoped that he'd have a chance to see what was wrong with Niamh as he hadn't been able to investigate the reason for her low spirits earlier in the day.

Smartly rapping on the door, he let the recently loosed hand to rest casually against his leg, shifting his weight to the other side while he waited. The steps on the other side were brisk but soft, the familiarity of the field enveloping him before the portal swung open to reveal his sister smiling wanly.

"Hello again. I was wondering when you were going to show up," Niamh commented, hovering in the doorway rather than stepping aside.

"Hi. Sorry, Gus can get a bit-" he finished the sentence with a vague wave of the hand, removing his other hand from his pocket. He made as if to reach out to her, leaving his hands to hover awkwardly a little above his hips.

"Don't apologise. I wasn't giving out, Fionn." The young woman stepped forward to envelop him in a hug as he'd been expecting her to do; he still wasn't used to this. He moved his hands to rest on the middle of her back, one patting awkwardly while she squeezed him, tighter than usual, almost as if she was afraid she was going to lose him. There was that ripple of distress in her field again before she stepped back, smile overly bright.

"I'll make some tea. You'll have some, won't you?" she asked quickly before hurrying back into the lab before he could do more than nod, lips poised to ask a question. "Harper! Fionn's here so I'm going to make some tea. Will you have another cup?" she asked as she bustled around, busying herself. Her brother followed her in and pushed the door shut behind him.

"Hello, Professor Moore. Should I... should I call you Harper?" Fionn asked uncertainly, a hand gliding over blond strands, not sure if he should keep his hands at his sides or stick them in his pockets. He settled for clasping them behind his back instead, rocking forward onto his toes and back on his heels. "Um... you wanted to see me?"

[Muse]

39th of Bethas, 2719
Laboratory Beta | Evening

If Professor Moore remembered he'd asked to meet with Fionn or even at what he'd made such arrangements for, it really wouldn't have mattered any more than it did when the passive arrived. Had Niamh reminded him throughout the week? Had he written it down? Had he kept an eye on the time? Did he have any idea—

"Wha—oh. Tea. Yes. Please." The monic theorist looked up from behind a large stack of books, half of them open, the other half of them marked by scraps of paper and dog-eared pages. All of them were spread with a careful precision about one of the desks in the laboratory proper, this one in particular with a large chalkboard on wheels next to it. The chalkboard was covered in notes—layers of notes, really, in Harper's hinglescratch writing and personally indecipherable shorthand code.

Not all of it was related to his current funded research—passivity and its cure—no; instead, the back half of the board was entirely devoted to something he'd named the rift, something he'd given what spare thought he could ever since he spoken to that Siordanti in Qrieth in Ophus through strenuous scrying. They'd barely managed to confirm the phenomena was similar before those godsbedamned Da Huanes' cut off all contact. Unfortunately, Professor Moore hardly had the political clout to assist in the Anaxi's extraction, but he was vaguely aware that Headmistress Servalis was working quite hard on coming to some kind of agreement.

It wasn't going well. Although, the Giorans hadn't murdered anyone yet, so at the same time, it could have been worse.

Neither was Harper, honestly. The man was tired between his classes, his research, his other research, and keeping office hours. It showed as he fumbled clumsily for his spectacles that he didn't remember setting down among loose papers and chalk dust until he found them on top of his head just as Fionn entered the room, memories of inviting the boy to the lab again filtering through the fog of Quantitative runoff that seemed to simply be a permanent atmosphere in the laboratory some days,

"You should probably call me Professor Moore, Mister Madden. Regardless of allowances you're given here, it's still a sign of respect and politeness." He offered with a chuckle, promptly removing his spectacles to clean them with the untucked tail of his wrinkled, unkempt shirt that offensively peeked out from beneath the decorative brocade of his dark vest, "And I, uh, I did want to see you, yes. I'm quite sure I had a very firm grasp on why when I made the appointment, but, well, here we are. Give me a moment—"

He waved casually at a chair, but the level of commitment he expected of Fionn to sitting still was evident in the half-hearted waggle of his fingers. Even Harper knew better than to have that sort of mandate,

"Things are going well for you with Professor Keyes?" The dark-haired galdor had sorted his spectacles and considered for a moment that he should also tuck in his shirt, standing there behind his mess of a desk and looking sheepish for a moment.

Gods, tea. He needed that.

Sighing and looking down to shuffle through a few papers instead of making awkward eye contact over it all, the monic theorist added,

"Ah, well, now that some dust has settled, I do believe I have a list here somewhere of some opportunties for you or other passives who may be interested in furthering my research. I have just compiled a very lengthy informative paper for the Chairs to take to Vienda for the Vyrdag as well as the Anaxi Parliament—it was literally all I could do to keep myself from being dragged into showing up in person." Harper groaned, rolling his eyes and looking up again,

"I won't know if my funding is renewed until Roalis, so I'd best squeeze in what I can just in case—" Distracted by some part of an equation he noted out of the corner of his spectacles, Professor Moore tsk'd and turned toward the chalkboard and used the cuff of his sleeve to erase several lines of numbers and letters that clearly only had meaning to himself. He then searched for chalk among a bunch of stubs and dust, speaking while he hastily rewrote everything in some slightly different, momentously important fashion, "—I understand if you'd rather refuse, especially if things are comfortable with Gus. I won't begrudge you if you'd rather not participate, Fionn."

[Fionn]

Bethas 39, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

Fionn has no idea why he’d been summoned to the Parford Wing but there was a definite sense of anxiety about him, palpable even without a field as he regarded his surroundings and the professor in quick, darting glances. He hadn’t come to see his sister — her presence was simply an incidental perk — but rather to see Moore of whom he didn’t have that much knowledge. Oh yes, Niamh certainly rabbitted on enough about him but her love-mooniness could hardly be relied upon to provide good insight into the man. Anything she said had to be regarded with a healthy degree of skepticism as her opinions were so easily swayed by her glowing admiration of him. Personally, Fionn had had more interaction with his colleague, Professor Devlin but Castor seemed shadier, perhaps scheming, and while he doubted that Harper was truly innocent, he seemed rather more open than the other man; he seemed to be guileless as far as the middle Madden could tell.

However, considering what he’d been told about the man and how different the galdori he’d interacted with seemed to be from one another, the teenager didn’t rightly know how he was supposed to act around him though. It didn’t help that Niamh spoke about him familiarly or that Professor Keyes had been encouraging him to be so informal. While he was a bit embarrassed by Moore’s response, which felt like an admonition in spite of the chuckle, the boy was also relieved. He knew how to deal with formality. It was safe, it had rules and while being made to address authority figures in a particular fashion had often rankled, this man was one he had some respect for and reason to want to please. He might want to please him but that didn’t mean that he was ready to be a lick erse though. Or he hoped not.

"My apologies, sir, I wasn’t sure if- My sister refers to you on a first name basis and Professor Keyes prefers to be called… Gus so I… I wasn’t sure..." he explained sheepishly. He could hear Niamh bustling about in the more comfortable sitting room next door, making far more noise than her brother thought strictly necessary almost as if she was doing it on purpose. Hearing her bustling around, he couldn’t help but think about the way she’d squeezed him at the door and that distress that had filtered through to him. He couldn’t keep his mind on her, not when he was here to see Harper but he could devote one corner of his brain to pondering her behaviour and how he might be able to get an explanation about it.

He needn’t have worried about giving the monic theorist his full attention because clearly he wasn’t giving it to Fionn. His mind was on whatever he was working on and his state of preoccupation was clear to see in his surroundings. If there was some order in this chaos then the young man imagined that only the galdor could see it. It was controlled though, which he suspected had more to do with Niamh than with Harper, the eldest Madden going to some pains to keep things tidy around him because he couldn’t imagine that the man had the wherewithal to contain the spread of his slovenliness. Apparently, his sister hadn’t been exaggerating about that and like Gus, the professor seemed to be caught up whatever was going on in his own head.

A chair was indicated for him to sit in but the teenager remained standing, still fidgeting as he took in the man’s state of dress and thought about the necessary work that would have to go into getting his shirt back to a decent state. Some wrinkles were a real bugger to get out, especially when they’d been left to sit for awhile and become comfortable and the ones in Harper’s shirt looked as if they’d need quite a few belts of an iron to make them smooth out properly.

”Uh… yes? Well, we seem to be used to each other. I’m not sure that Gu- Professor Keyes knew exactly what to do with me for awhile. He’s um… nice? I’m… I’m not used to- People don’t tend to be-” Fionn broke off awkwardly, examining his shoes with great interest. He waited, cringing a little as he anticipated awkward follow-up questions or some show of sympathy but it wasn’t immediately forthcoming so he relaxed.

There was a soft, derisive snort from the youth, an outburst that he immediately regretted because it should have remained in his head. He highly doubted that there were other passives interested in furthering the work in Laboratory Beta; the common consensus was that Moore and Devlin were dangerous madmen and Lady only knew what they did to passives. The fact that there was some sort of political and bureaucratic chroveshit wrapped up in the matter of the research certainly wouldn’t sell it to them; it didn’t appeal to Fionn either, especially as he was largely out of his depth here, the things he spoke of foreign to the gated passive and almost unreal.

His next outburst was a strangled choking as Harper rubbed his sleeve — his godsbedamned sleeve! — on the blackboard, which wafted chalk dust into the air. He wouldn’t be washing that shirt — or rather it was highly doubtful that he would be — but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t in a special sort of agony at how thoughtlessly the man was adding to their daily work. Perhaps he was acutely sensitive at the moment because both Gus and Maddie had been so uncaring about the prospect that her delicate looking dancing costumes would need to be washed if they were scattered on the floor of the artist’s office. What the fuck was wrong with gollies for Alioe’s sake? Were they intentionally dense or did they just not care?

Gazing at the mass of largely incomprehensible scribbles on the board, a muscle below his eye was twitching, the blond not really noticing what the professor was writing because he was more concerned that he was going to start erasing things again.

“Refuse? No, sir! I’ve been thinking about this for months and— Well, I probably haven’t thought about anything on the same level as you but I’ve been trying to understand about the nexus and things and coming up with my own theories-” Fionn blurted out, the nervous energy in his body only increased as he spoke, incredibly earnest in spite of his excitement. That energy was ready to explode out at the slightest provocation and thus, there was a frantic flailing of limbs when his sister appeared and interrupted him, the young man left clasping a hand over his frenzied heart, gasping for air.

“Yes, you’ve had so many theories, I’m surprised that my ears haven’t been worn out by the sheer volume,” Niamh commented wryly, a smile touching her lips although not with its typical intensity. He’d been so preoccupied that he hadn’t consciously registered her field and she’d actually managed to sneak up on him, a tray with tea balanced in her grasp.

Fionn darted forward, trembling a bit but still trying to be helpful by clearing a little space at the desk. He had to do his best not to disrupt what the man had laid open before him.

“I could have just- Nevermind, thank you,” his sister murmured, the barest crease between her brows and the downward turn of her mouth hinting at some unhappiness. “I think the short answer is ‘yes, he’d love to participate’ but I’m not sure that you’d get that out of him for awhile if you let him talk.”

The eldest Madden had added that last part in a distracted fashion, the tone of the comment managing to sound a bit bitchy, which surprised her brother given who was in their presence. He saw it dawn on her face, the colour flooding to her cheeks, an alertness flashing into her eyes and he managed to bite off a retort at the pained look on her face.

“Hey, I’m- I can be a bit long-winded actually, she’d right,” Fionn remarked almost timidly, a quick glance exchanged between the siblings before he shooed her away from the tea tray despite a faint attempt at protest from the young woman. “I’d be very interested, Professor Moore. Extremely interested. I don’t know if you’d be willing to tell me more or- Well, I have theories and you probably don’t have time to listen to my musings.”

“Wherever did you put your last teacup, Har- Professor?” Niamh blurted out abruptly, hunting around the desk for the missing item while Fionn poured tea into the two clean cups.

“Niamh, are you having-”

“No, I won’t be joining you, I- No, thank you, Fionn. I’m going to be leaving soon,” she admitted, that flickering entering her field again as she knelt carefully to look for the piece of crockery beneath the desk.

“Oh… um… Professor, how do you take your tea?” he asked, brown gaze moving uncertainly between the man and woman. Fionn didn’t know what to make of this situation at all.

[Muse]

39th of Bethas, 2719
Laboratory Beta | Evening

"Professor Keyes relates to you on a slightly less formal level than myself, and seeing as I am tenuously attempting to portray some sort of professionalism in order to maintain my research grant, it is a small favor to request such a form of address from a passive who is still Gated, whether I agree with such a thing or not. As for your sister—I—uh—" Harper offered quietly somewhere between his other string of words, quickly flustered, suddenly cutting himself off before he was distracted by his own desk or distracted by his chalkboard, though once he'd found that equation that needed fixing?

Well, he kept writing.

And writing.

And erasing.

But also listening.

"—you're not used to kindness. I'm aware, Mister Madden. Nor are most galdori used to giving such attention to passives, though there are a few of us on in Brunnhold, thank Alioe." He smiled, first to himself and the numbers and letters he'd written and then, turning toward Fionn, also to the young man. He set his chalk down, wiping dusty fingers on his trousers, unaware of the kind of trauma that may cause the dark-haired passive when it came to thoughts on laundry ... or, at least, unthinking of it in this particular moment.

"I suppose he was quite used to working on personal projects alone, but I'm also sure he's more grateful for the help than he lets on." Harper shrugged, unable to predict the thought processes of other Anaxi galdori in their biased positions, in their narrowly defined set of acceptable values. He raised both eyebrows as Fionn said nexus out loud, chuffed like a parent having heard a child use a new word,

"Theories on a nexus, huh—oh—"

Hazel eyes flicked up as Niamh appeared with tea and chiding commentary. Even almost a decade apart and the pair were obviously siblings. She was smiling, at least for a moment, and then everything sounded more like childish bickering and it was the monic theorist's turn to smirk,

"I can share some of my observations, Mister Madden, yes, but—my what? Teacup. Oh. It's—" Flustered once there was a young woman on his floor by his desk, he blinked for a moment, blushing at the realization that he had no idea where he'd put his last cup of tea. Frantically, he looked around the room and spied it, like a bookend, sitting innocently on his shelf, "—Miss Madden, Niamh. It's—hold on—please, let me just—"

Carefully stepping past his obstacles, dusted with chalk and distraction, he moved to his overstuffed shelf and carefully extracted the cup and saucer where he'd clearly left it looking for some reference spell or some obscure tidbit of research,

"Here. I'm sorry." He offered, holding it out in Niamh's direction like some sheepish child caught attempting to hide treasures that had never belonged to him in the first place. Fionn was asking how he took his tea while he poured and Professor Moore was holding out an empty teacup and he glanced beyond the rim into the gritty stain left on the bottom with a chuckle, "Cream first. One sugar. Thank you."

Accounts settled in various directions, the dark-haired galdor made his way back to his desk and sank into his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing knuckles against his eyelids before letting fingers run through curls,

"So. Yes. Well. I think I would like to hear your thoughts first, Fionn. I'm very curious about your observations among other passives as you are given access to experiences I am not. Have you noticed a nexus in others?"

He reached to stir his tea, smiling again and looking back to Niamh as if to invite her to stay before he let his attention settle on the young passive again.

[Fionn]

Bethas 39, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

When Professor Moore commented on the way Gus acted towards him, Fionn had to resist the urge to remark on the artistic fellow’s oft disinterested regard for everyone when he was occupied. In fact, he had no interest in formality and honestly, he didn’t think it would have made much difference if he was someone important like a Magister or someone far beneath him socially like a human beggar; Professor Keyes frankly didn’t give a damn. Instead, the blond held his tongue, humming noncommittally, at least acknowledging what he’d said. Gus was a different beast than many galdori he’d encountered and perhaps he should have simply defaulted to a more formal address for Moore, but he didn’t require an explanation for why he should use that formality. He had to resist the urge to sigh and roll his eyes, feeling like a child who was being spoken down to by an adult.

Depending on one’s perspective, he supposed that that was precisely what was happening here.

Did he miss the way that the galdor seemed to be thrown by the mention of Niamh? No, absolutely not but it was something he didn’t want to dwell on. The student had confided some things in him, things about the older man and her relationship with him. He supposed that she didn’t really have anyone else and while she wasn’t entirely comfortable having such conversations with her brother, they did share things and had a bond that may have thinned over their years apart but hadn’t ever broken. Based on what she’d said, he thought that she was very much in love with Harper but that didn’t mean that he was entirely approving; he didn’t like the idea that the man might break her heart by being careless with it. He didn’t know if he liked the little bit of fluster that the monic theorist displayed.

The professor wasn’t a malicious man, but quite kind and well-intentioned, which made it difficult to think poorly of him in any way. The teenager could be protective of his sister, be disapproving of the man in that regard but that was perhaps as far as he could go in terms of viewing Harper Moore in a negative light. Where he was concerned personally, Fionn could only muster some exasperation and discomfort about the use of his surname or rather the name of the man who may or may not be his father. He didn’t feel like explaining that one and what was more, he was trying to be formal so it wasn’t ill-intentioned; the older man no doubt intended to be respectful.

Once he had given Castor Devlin his family name in an act of rebellion but it seemed regrettable now. The youth tried to simply ignore it, or at least attempt to allow it to slide over him and leave him unruffled.

“Yes, I think he’s quite, ehm… accustomed to being on his own,” he commented carefully, agreeing without declaring that Keyes often came across as a bit moony. “He’s used to a certain amount of independence and um… I suppose he’s rather used to only having to worry about himself.”

His gaze might have trailed over the organised chaos of the space, an unconscious association made between the engraver and the monic theorist. Keyes couldn’t have bothered himself with his own eccentricities in much the same way that whatever chaos Moore made could hardly have been a bother to him when he was just one man working alone. From what Niamh told him, Devlin was an infrequent visitor and it seemed doubtful that he actually cared what state the lab was in. The only ones who it evidently bothered were Niamh, who tidied it regularly, and Fionn who could not help but see the disorder with an eye well-practiced at discerning work that could be shoved on him at any moment.

The blond knew that he wasn’t here for that sort of work, but he felt some sympathy for his sister when she sighed in exasperation about a missing tea cup. Funnily enough, it did seem to have a fondness about it though. Fond exasperation, what a peculiar exasperation! Was that what it meant to be in love? Could the person you know do something that frustrated or irritated you and yet you could still manage to feel affectionately towards them?

Odd — definitely odd — but fascinating. Marginally diverting but he did note that there was still something distant about his sister, even while her employer hunted for his cup. The student was doing her best to control her field, which certainly hummed with something despite her best efforts, low level vibrations throughout, but her expression drooped.

The teenager kept an eye on her while he poured tea, throwing his gaze between the task at hand and the young woman, wondering what had knocked her out of her usually pleasant orbit.

He’d already poured a cup when Harper revealed his preference so he took that one as his own, adding cream and sugar to the other before pouring the tea in, using a spoon to stir as he did so, tongue protruding from one corner of his mouth while his brow crumpled in concentration. Once it was ready, he passed it to the professor and heard his sibling groan softly at Harper’s interest in his theories, the middle Madden’s own face lighting up.

“I believe that that’s my cue to excuse myself,” Niamh murmured, lips pursed as she peered into the stained cup that the galdor man had provided.

“I know you don’t like to hear me go on but… I’d… I’d like it if you stayed,” the passive admitted softly, rose blooming in his cheeks as he glanced shyly at his sister. He sat in the previously offered chair with his sweetened tea, resting it on his thigh as he looked up hopefully at the Living Conversationalist.

The hazel irises appeared to grow greener, eyelids scrunching subtly before her gaze slid away from him.

“It’s not that, I… I have some things to deal with and um… I have some plans to finalise, st-st-studies and so on. Ehm. Yes, that sort of thing.”

It sounded like an excuse to him and a poor one at that but he didn’t attempt to argue against it.

“I just have some things to p-p-put in order and- Don’t let me disturb you!” she assured him before slipping out into the other room, steps a mite too hurried for his liking. The youth felt torn, wanting to pursue something that was evidently a problem for his sister but also eager to have the chance to voice his inner thoughts, even though self-conscious uncertainty had gotten him in its grasp.

Fionn chose the more selfish option.

“Oh well, what I’ve been thinking about is uh… I’ve only had simple forms of observation and I’m sure that my thoughts will probably seem, um… simple, the sort of thing that you determined long ago with your methods-”

The supposed concern that had existed for his sister had already fled as his own interests filled him with excitement, the young man quick to forget her even though her field wasn’t yet beyond his senses.

He shifted in his seat, straightening himself, the teacup steadied before it could spill from his lap although its contents splashed up to the rim on first one side and then the other, light brown dribbling down the porcelain and into the saucer.

“I’ve been feeling it, yes! It was easier to focus on my own first if I’m honest although I also tried to sense it around me too, which was difficult at first because it’s a new way of sensing- Well, no, it’s different really, it’s more about what you’re looking for and what you’re expecting to find and- If you’re looking for a folly gi- Bluh! I mean, a golly field then you aren’t going to be in luck but- Why am I telling you this?”

He groaned, realising that he was probably telling Harper things that he already knew and yet here he was talking as if he was teaching him something!

“Yes, I’ve felt it and we really aren’t empty because I’ve felt a human—I thought they’d really have nothing and they don’t and it’s really strange—and so I know that passives are just on a uh… a uh… different erm…”

If he’d had the word ‘frequency’, he would have used it but he didn’t so he flapped his hand, mustering a clicking of his fingers as well as if that would summon the appropriate term to the surface.

“We’re just different! Related—literally obviously but I don’t mean that—like we’re beside each other, one a reflection of the other or uh- Not reflection, more to do with like light and shadow, can’t have one without the other, like opposites but maybe not exactly. Er…”

Twitching fingers dragged over his scalp, the youth wincing slightly at the force as if he was ready to rip his own hair out by the roots.

“I don’t know, it’s all speculation but I’ve been thinking that passives maybe don’t have mona because if we did then everyone would spot it, right? Although a lot of people don’t expect to see anything so I think that helps with that—a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I think that maybe we don’t have mona but we have something related to it, related but different, possibly something that can attract mona when it’s needed or altered things somehow, which might explain how diableries work but there… was… something…”

Fionn paused briefly, trying to find his place in his own head, certain that he’d skipped something important.

“Oh! Anti-mona! That’s what I’ve been calling it and it uh… it… the word- It’s right there, godsdamnit! Complement! They complement each other- Whoops!”

The moment he recalled the word, the blond had slapped his own thigh in triumph and had almost spilled all the tea into his lap. Instead, he’d managed to catch both cup and saucer—separately. The liquid that had pooled in the little dish now happily puddled in his lap and he felt it now.

“Alioe’s hairy- Uh! I mean… uh… shit?”

The youth cleared his throat awkwardly, smiling sheepishly but managing to look slightly manic at the same time.

An excellent impression! At least he hadn’t let slip the sort of expletive that might have made his delicate-minded sister faint!

[Muse]

39th of Bethas, 2719
Laboratory Beta | Evening

"So, you're saying that you're far more independent than you thought you'd be under Professor Keys. Ah, well—" The other galdor corrected himself, attempting to navigate the strange feelings of complexity he seemed to find himself experiencing with both Maddens in the same room. The young passive's very serious, calculating thoughts curious and not unwelcome even in Niahm's shadow that passed between them both briefly, flustering him further. Tea, yes. Good. Thank you, he wanted to say, but he just smiled and nodded, waiting for the right moment while finishing his thought for the boy,

"—somewhat disorienting for you, perhaps? Or therapeutic? Or both." Harper didn't directly say that giving any passive some sense of freedom was expected to be strange, but neither did he say he figured some of that space would be good for someone like Fionn, who possessed more of a mind than he was otherwise allowed to use with his current status. Even if Professor Keyes wasn't the nurturing type, not at all, the dark-haired galdor wasn't sure that the passive in front of him would have taken well to that particular kind of kindness anyway.

He flashed a separate, gentler smile in Niamh's direction when she dismissed herself. The Quantitative Professor attempted to navigate through the moment of family awkwardness, both pleased that the pair had somehow managed to reuinite in their own way despite all that galdori society had stacked firmly against them and yet also flustered by the exchange he couldn't entirely understand. He'd been an only child and the interactions of siblings was always fascinating to his too-analytical mind, "Thank you, Miss Madden. You're welcome, either way."

Looking back to the younger man after watching his assistant leave with thinly veiled reluctance, hidden only by the steam rising from his teacup, Harper settled into his seat again and gave his full attention to Fionn, curious about the passive's actual thoughts, filtered as they were by the lens of his current existence.

"Oh!" Escaped his lips from the rim of his tea, not because his first sip was hot but because the boy admitted to the sensation of nexi. His hazel eyes widened, lighting up in academic excitement, and he hovered too long, glasses fogging.

"Yes, well. Galdori are always aware of and putting their fields to use. You just ... can't miss them. Passives aren't—exactly." Professor Moore nodded, slowly, thoughtfully, following along while he carefully lifted his spectacles to the top of his dark-curled head since he'd rendered them so useless, "The feelings are different, also. Once you're not expecting an absence, I mean. Once you're really, feeling something at all—a nexus. There's something familiar about it, but also, well, right. I'm also hesitant to say opposite, but... honestly? It's in my notes, for lack of a better word."

He watched the young man work through his thoughts with genuine, keen interest. It might have been rude had it not just been Harper Moore, the way he leaned a little and engaged with the somewhat broken, pieced together experiences as Fionn attempted to turn them into logical sentences,

"Well, the real question is—is it that passives don't have mona at all or ... is it just another type? Or, for that matter, several types. Now, I don't expect you to understand that at all, but—"

He was about to follow-up with more vocabulary, but the boy had his own and Harper couldn't help but chuckle about it, opening his mouth to continue when the passive slapped his knee. There was a gasp, then a moment of concern, but when everyone was safe and dry, the dark-haired galdor was left smiling, reaching for either the cup or the saucer in an attempt to assist,

"Exactly! Anti-mona is a more than fair phrase. I have been struggling with terminology to best describe the way nexi felt when caprised and sensed by a galdor as familiar with the mona and monic theory as someone like myself has become over the years." If Fionn's language bothered him at all, well, he didn't even blink an eye. Some of his students were certainly more foul than that, much to his surprise,

"And yet—well, please excuse me if this is a little disturbing of a subject—I don't think I've asked if you've experienced your diablerie before?—anyway—and yet, when a passive does manifest their strange magical ... involuntary expression, we'll say, it is, for the majority of recorded cases with a few fascinating exceptions, uh, it seems amplified and powerful. So, anti-mona almost feels as much a misnomer as it feels fitting."

He didn't feel as strange as he should have, discussing this with a Gated passive, sharing tea with a young, uneducated man. Instead, if anyone had perspective on the matter, it was clearly a bright, sharp creature like Niamh's brother,

"These are all rather fascinating observations, considering. I appreciate your rather open mind on the subject. While we're on the subject of diableries, unless you're uncomfortable, of course—" The monic theorist paused, suddenly aware that he had no interest in going places the younger man didn't want to go in theoretical conversation. He took another cautious sip of tea, watching carefully.

[Fionn]

Bethas 39, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

This was proving to be an unusual evening indeed. He hadn’t expected Harper to question him about Keyes or pry too actively into his situation. It wasn’t because he was a passive but rather it hadn’t occurred to him that it would be important. They were here to discuss matters relating to the unique magical nature of passives, not about Fionn’s freedoms under the engraver’s guardianship. In truth, the discussion made him feel awkward, even though he was aware that this was something that people apparently did. It seemed utterly irrelevant to him but this was how conversation worked from what he could tell, a way to fill the space between two or more people when they weren’t certain of each other.

The boy’s conversational skills were rusty at best but in truth, he’d always found carrying on a dialogue to be tricky. Before his gating, he’d still been young so it made sense that anything he could have mustered would have been juvenile back then and they hadn’t had much chance to develop properly since then. He could hope that these things would grow easier with time but he didn’t much like the idea of being forced to carry on something quite so pointless.

Ignoring another person was rude, he knew that — at least intellectually — but it seemed like a good way to enable the thread of conversation regarding Keyes to die. Perhaps if all the small talk ended then the professor would be forced to concentrate on important matters — namely all the things that Fionn was dying to learn and share.

His sister’s awkward and atypically sullen demeanour also threw him — as it did the monic theorist — but it was no more than a momentary distraction once the man mentioned what he was truly interested in, his own attention already elsewhere when the professor still seemed somewhat preoccupied with Niamh’s departure. The servant didn’t have the headspace to analyse the galdor’s behaviour, his mind suddenly overflowing with just about every thought that had been spinning in his mind the last few months. His thoughts chased each other, some devouring others and bearing strange new children for him to consider.

Who had time to wonder about Niamh and whatever had altered her humour or Harper’s behaviour towards her?

Once he had the man’s full attention though, he couldn’t deny that his regard exhilarated him further, the passive charged with a nervous energy that wasn’t merely kinetic as he vibrated with it. The favourable response that he received, the evident excitement to match his own meant that it was a wonder that he was capable of stopping his speech for even a moment. The young blond still had to breathe for one thing, especially as he suddenly seemed to be using more oxygen then he could pull into him, growing breathy with excitement. For another, he couldn’t barrel over the other man’s words, not when he actually wanted to hear his responses, no matter how cursory they might be.

Fionn didn’t think he’d ever had anyone show such a genuine interest in what came out of his mouth, even Niamh only listened politely — assuming that what he was saying didn’t happen to worry her as it did a high percentage of the time. He knew what interest looked like when it did occur and of course he could feel it too. But the monic theorist looked as giddy with excitement as he felt and it turned out that it was wildly invigorating to be met with such a response. The teenager hardly needed encouragement to yap happily on the subject but it did mean that he was less likely to shut up anytime soon.

If Niamh had still been here — he might have heard the soft opening and closing of the door that signalled her departure while he’d been talking — then she probably would have been holding her face in her hands at this point.

“Yeah, I didn’t realise that I’ve been surrounded by nexi for so many years, it’s a bit like when you’re somewhere noisy and you let it blend into this background hum. If you think about it for a moment, it’s really obvious that it’s there and you wonder how you ever blocked it out that much but you can almost forget that it’s there when you’re focused on something else,” the boy gushed, a slight jump developing in his leg so that it bobbed up and down a little while he spoke. He couldn’t really fidget with his hands so the energy had had to go somewhere.

Until the spilled tea put a (literal) dampener on his enthusiasm. Thankfully he’d dropped the cooled liquid from the saucer instead of the hot stuff from the cup but the cold dampness was far from comfortable and unfortunately placed as well. It had begun at the midpoint of his thighs but had quickly trickled around the curve of his legs, following the path that gravity dictated so that the inside of his thighs had gotten wet and a puddle was trying to form itself on the chair.

Placing the cup firmly in the saucer, the blond tried to rise with some haste, mindful that he didn’t spill any more and Harper’s offered hand was gladly accepted, allowing him to take cup and saucer together while he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket in an attempt to mop up some of the mess. First drying his wrist which had gotten wet from tea dribbling along the bottom of the saucer, he moved on to his legs, pressing the square of cloth against the fabric in the hope that it would absorb the liquid.

While the passive worked to tidy himself up, he did it distractedly because he was far more concerned with what Harper had to say, particularly the suggestion that his choice of terminology was not only good but perhaps quite fitting. Red bloomed in his cheek, more from pleased delight than straight-up embarrassment but there was definitely some of that too; he looked like he’d pissed himself after all.

“Do you really think that it’s… that it’s a good phrase? I’d just thought that it made sense although… I don’t know that it's the opposite exactly but I needed to call it something,” he remarked breathlessly. He couldn’t deny that delight was singing through his veins at the thought that he had contributed something in spite of his limited education and the golly’s expertise.

His eagerness was tempered somewhat by the mention of his diablerie, unease prickling at the back of his neck. His expression froze and then slackened, quiet now as he simply dabbed at his clothing. It’d be best to consider things in abstraction, consider his diablerie from an academic standpoint the way that Harper would instead of recalling it vividly and becoming overwhelmed by it. For now, he couldn’t help but shy away from it a little.

“Misnomer? I’m afraid that I don’t know that word but… I think it’s fitting when you consider that it uh… kind of pulls mona in. Some opposites sort of need each other like… what did Niamh say? Something about how magnets are attracted to each other but only the opposite kind. She said that um… the same sort push against each other? Well she admitted that she was explaining it badly and that there’s a reason that she doesn’t do Physical magic but… you probably know about it.”

His voice pitched up at the end, almost a question, while his brown eyes rose hopefully to Harper’s face. He only hoped that the man could fill in the gaping holes that the passive had to leave in his own rhetoric.

The way he’d said it… misnomer must mean that ‘anti-mona’ wasn’t quite as good a fit as Fionn had hoped and yet it was fitting because Professor Moore had said so. A contradiction and not one that the blond entirely grasped. Yet. He’d probably get there in the end with some careful thought and replays of this encounter in his mind.

The idea of reminiscing about his diablerie was still a deeply uncomfortable one for him but the galdor flattered him, his labelling of Fionn’s observations as ‘fascinating’ only increasing the blooming blush on his cheeks. He managed a hesitant smile as he dropped his handkerchief onto his seat to absorb the small wet spot that had accumulated before collecting the damp cloth and holding onto it awkwardly. The youth retrieved his teacup with another — this time grateful — smile and seated himself anew.

A sip of tea wet his dry mouth, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he cleared his throat. The nervous energy returned, finding a somewhat safe outlet in the jittering motion of his leg while the cup and saucer were held above it out of harm’s way.

“Well, sir… I’ve had it happen. Only once b-but it was enough.”

The contents of the teacup had suddenly become a focal point, the youth peering at his own faint and distorted reflection in the liquid’s surface as his lips pressed into a pale line.

”I was about eleven at the time and... it was the year my brother came to Brunnhold. I know that they list all sorts of things that might set a passive off but frankly I think it’s chroveshit. If it was really caused by any or all of those things then I’d have gone off more than once over the years but I… I still wonder if there was some truth in it on that day because I saw him and I-I-I felt- I suppose that I may as well admit it: I hated him. I hated the sight of him in that uniform, hated how- how happy he was, how he fucking belonged! And he got to have everything while I’d had horrible things-”

The cup was rattling in its saucer, the tremble carrying from his hands and the youth set it down as carefully as he could on the floor, trying not to dwell on all the pain that he’d felt on that day and which had only continued to mount over the days since. If he acknowledged it then he’d drown in it and he couldn’t afford to do that now. The past was past and it couldn’t hurt him now — or it shouldn’t.

He clasped his hands together, white-knuckles and jammed them between his knees, unconsciously rocking back and forth — albeit subtly — as he spoke.

“I just wanted him to feel even a small part of the pain I’d experienced up to that point and well I... I got my wish,” he explained, laughing sardonically. He shook his head.

Be careful what you wished for indeed.

“I can sense the mona, can feel the way that it shifts and how it feels when a golly calls on it. I know that pull even if I’ve never- well, not never. I felt it then. I actually felt the mona come to me and for a few seconds I was confused, sure, but I was also delighted because I thought that it had finally accepted me and- But it kept coming. I couldn’t sense anything around me, I didn’t really know what else was going on because I was so full of this power and it wouldn’t stop, it just kept rushing towards me and I thought I was going to die or explode or something because I couldn’t cope with it. And then I did, explode that is.

The blond took a few steadying breaths through his nose and rolled his shoulders, making some effort to break the tension in them. The worst was past and he could at least look at Harper again properly instead of peering into his lap or darting nervous glances in his direction.

“I don’t exactly know what it was but what came out of me felt a bit like… You know if you’ve been out in a strong wind and you turn into a sheltered place and you… well, you feel that wind almost glance off you and rush off and you feel lighter because you aren’t fighting it anymore? It felt like that. Everything and everyone around me at the time got thrown back and well… some things and people ended up pressed against walls and that and then it stopped. Nobody died but there were some injuries. I don’t know if there was anything serious, I don’t think so but if anyone hit a wall hard enough…”

The youth shrugged. He leaned down to collect his teacup once more, doing his best to hide the tremor that remained in his hands so that the crockery wouldn’t rattle.

“It was certainly involuntary and it was certainly powerful. I don’t know what kind of magic it was like though so I can’t really compare it with proper golly magic. I don’t know that it was amplified but it did… feel like a lot, even compared to the effects of golly magic that I’ve experienced but it was also years ago and well… what do I know really?”

The teenager occupied himself with sipping tea, more reserved than he had been before his tale.

[Muse]

"Yyes, look—it's a fine enough phrase in my mind that I'm going to write it down, Fionn." In his excitement and eagerness to include the young man in this process, in his interest in the passive's practical, day-to-day observations, the Professor let slip his first name instead of using any formality, writing in a clear corner of his chalk board the word anti-mona carefully and circling it as if to draw his own attention back to it later. He didn't even skip a beat about his own slip of the tongue (perhaps because he didn't really register the informality while speaking with enthusiasm), but instead remained standing with his tea and his chalk as if ready to record anything else as it struck him from the passive's words.

Nodding along with the idea of magnetism, he realized that the younger Madden wasn't asking for an explanation so much as grasping at metaphor and he thought to simply encourage that he was, indeed, correct,

"While I'm not sure that a nexus is even meant to represent the same particles of mona that galdori have been familiar with for centuries now, I agree that there is some sort of interaction between all of the particles when a diablerie takes place." He turned away from Fionn to scribble a few notes about the observation in another corner of the chalkboard as if he'd even remember the connection later.

The monic theorist turned and leaned against the window sill when the young man hesitantly began to mention his diablerie, Harper suddenly realizing that it wasn't some casual subject that he could just bring up. He blinked, wanting to apologize because he saw such a magical event often through such a scientific lens that his too-busy, hyper-analytical mind skipped over the part where people had died in the middle of them, passives and bystanders alike. Gods—he'd even been a witness to such things and here he was so nonchalant about their observation—

—it was no wonder half of the faculty thought him mad, wasn't it?

Professor Moore stared into his teacup for a moment, noting the particulates through glasses he probably should have cleaned, wanting to add to his calloused question that Fionn wasn't obligated to answer—but then he was distracted by the comment that the passive made about all of the current theories that diableries could somehow be triggered and he was about to agree with a whole slew of observations—

Shit.

He kept himself quiet by sipping his tea and listening instead. A challenge.

"Your experience sounds very similar to other passives who have described their diableries—involuntary and yet inexplicable power. They're often overwhelming not only because you've never channeled mona in any way, obviously, but also because even in the presence of galdorkind, most galdori don't cast spells of such power, either. Magisters and Master sorcerers are rare, and they certainly don't go around doing such spells on a regular basis in the company of others. It's proof that passives bear ley lines, but—why the mona doesn't otherwise respond to them is the mystery."

The dark-haired galdor blinked and let his shoulders droop a little—as if he could look any more like the disheveled scientist he was—and added a little more softly,

"I have had my own spells brail more than once in my life and that sort of sensation isn't dissimilar. In fact, I've always wondered if a diablerie and backlash are somehow running along the same vein of monic communication but we simply haven't been able to properly understand it."

Setting his tea down probably somewhere he'd forget in a few more moments of conversation, steaming though it still was, Harper squinted at the chalkboard as if struck by something. He finally reached up and removed his spectacles, cleaning them on his cravat like the idiot he could often be outside of his specialities,

"I'm grateful your own diablerie wasn't fatal." He smiled gently, not wanting to let that go unspoken though there was a gravity to it that he couldn't entirely pull away from. They both knew the assumption of passive danger, uncontainable and uncontrollable, was part of the problem Professor Moore was desperate to solve.

"An impossible observation, but I suppose now I wonder if a nexus changes before and after a passive's diablerie." He rubbed his chin, smearing chalk dust, and continued to stare at the board.

[Fionn]

Bethas 39, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

The professor’s apparent enthusiasm for his choice of terminology had him grinning like an idiot, no matter how fervently he tried to stifle it. If he bit his lip any harder then he was going to end up piercing straight through it.

It was such a simple thing really, or would have been if he’d been a student in class. However, he wasn’t a student, didn’t have the sort of privilege that they did, the little things that they could take for granted like having their thoughts acknowledged. Praise was rare enough as a passive given that they were merely doing their duty, but it was something that he’d experienced less than others. This went beyond that and it was probably something that Fionn had craved far, far more than mere appreciation.

It was simply marvellous to see ‘anti-mona’ written amidst the monic theorist’s many other scribblings, most of them indecipherable to the blond even if he understood the meaning of individual words. It stood out to him, larger than it actually was in truth, as it held the greatest significance for him over everything else. The expectation with which Harper stood with his chalk, ready to take down anything else that the passive’s mind might have to offer was wildly intoxicating.

There was also something incredible about hearing Harper talk about what the particles in a nexus were meant to represent and he couldn’t keep it to himself, the peculiarity of it sending words tripping off his tongue.

“It’s such a strange thing to hear you talk about what a nexus is meant to be as if- Well, I suppose if a field could bear the marks of design by something greater than ourselves then it makes sense for nexi as well, but that’s also- There’s an irony to that statement, isn’t there, sir? There are people who consider passives forsaken after all, not even worthy of…”

The blond trailed off, his high energy beginning to burn off as his mood abruptly changed direction, quickly intensifying when he brought up his diablerie. His emotional shift from one extreme to another came on so rapidly that it was a wonder that he didn’t swoon as a result. By the time he’d finished his account, his body was attempting to sink through the chair in which he sat as he tried to shrink further. Only a few minutes prior, Fionn had been hopeful that he could make a valuable contribution here, but now he doubted that he was of particular interest, never mind his observations.

The scientist’s sombre demeanour was unexpected, not merely conveying sympathy but empathy. The notion that his negative experience could be comparable with anything a galdor had experienced had never occurred to him, and furthermore, such a viewpoint would probably be condemned by Harper’s peers. Passives were supposed to be aberrations, not something that a true galdor was supposed to have kinship with beyond the inescapable fact of their shared lineage. The blond knew little of brailing or more severe forms of backlash, only understanding that it resulted from a refusal of the mona to carry out the will of the caster.

“I never tried to ask the mona to do anything for me though,” he stated slowly, wincing as he caught his mistake, “well, not since the first and only time at any rate, and it isn’t as if any of us asked for anything major. Nothing that would be proportional to the strength of a diablerie.”

Blowing out a weary breath, the youth focused on his tea cup while his foot tapped on the floor, perhaps attempting to keep time with his thoughts.

“Hm,” he murmured, acknowledging the comment about pre- and post-diablerie nexi, not quite in a position to give a proper response yet. It took longer for the maelstrom in his mind to coalesce into something solid enough to voice. His head cocked to the side and remained that way, his gaze distant—pre-occupied.

“I suppose that you could meet new passives, pre-diablerie passives and record your observations and then wait until one of them… you know.”

He held up a hand, clenching it loosely before abruptly splaying his fingers outwards.

“Do you think it’s possible… Could it be that initiation always produces a response and the testers only look for a particular sign—a positive—but there’s something else triggered in passives? Something that… not necessarily offends the mona but makes them more likely to produce a backlash type response? The anti-mona? No, that’s stupid because then you’d probably sense anti-mona when a galdor experiences backlash and that- Is backlash even dangerous to other people in the vicinity? I’ve never heard of galdori being dangerous to other galdori in the same way as a passive.”

With another sigh, he gulped down the rest of his tea and would have simply set the cup carefully aside but he felt the tug of responsibility to wash it. To leave it there to let the tea stains to sink into the porcelain seemed the height of laziness. He stood.

“I’m going to clean this up before it- Oh no, apologies, I should wait for you, sir. I suppose it’s all right to leave my own cup for a few minutes,” the Madden boy told his companion, probably speaking more to himself as he forced himself to sink back into his seat.

“Don’t mind me, Professor. I’m possibly rambling more than usual, which is… saying something.”