[PM to Join] Have You Heard-? (Aura)

[Fionn]

Loshis 9, 2719 | Late Evening
Passive Canteen, Brunnhold

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The canteen was busy. These days Fionn had the luxury of waiting a little bit until many of his fellow servants had dribbled out, even if it meant that he got whatever happened to be left. Ordinarily, he didn't really care, it wasn't as if their diet was that varied and the notion that they had a choice between one food or another was nothing more than an illusion. However, he was quite hungry today, not having had more than a bite or two since breakfast, snatched snacks that he'd grabbed in between his work so he was here earlier than usual.

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."

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Time Stamp | Location

It had been a long day. Many of her days were, indeed, quite long of course--there was always more work to do--but this day had dragged on far past its welcome. She wasn't even entirely certain why it felt this way, precisely. A particular combination of dull tasks and duller company, perhaps. Aurelie tried to get along with most of her fellow passives, as it was far easier than doing otherwise, but with some it was easier than others. Today had featured a long, droning story about cleaning an unused classroom, and the skies had been dark with the promise of rain that had never come. It was enough to lull her into a mechanical sort of stupor that turned to an itch under her skin when she was released at last to eat something very much resembling dinner.

The itch was starting to feel like it was something more than simple boredom, and she wasn't sure she wanted it to.

Aurelie moved her food to her mouth mechanically, some distant part of her mind taking note of what she might have done differently to improve the meal. Most of her mind was adrift, a fog that she kept trying to direct to obscure this crawling feeling in her bones. She took only the most cursory of notices when a sullen-looking young man she'd seen around before sat next to her. He's taller than he seemed from a distance. The absurd observation came and went before she could stop it, and that was to be the end of it. After all, to be cordial when spoken to was one thing--but it wasn't as if she had an interest in making friends.

That was, of course, until he pulled out a pencil and paper. Suddenly the fog lifted, and all her attention snapped to the pencil in his hand. Surely, surely he wasn't writing--was he? Aura tried surrpetitiously to look-without-looking, suddenly taking notice of the hush that had fallen over their crowded table. What else could he be doing? And in plain sight--was he trying to get them all in trouble? She resisted the urge to cast her eyes around for a Matron.

When he jostled her elbow with his own, she did indeed drop her food and for besides, scattering it across the table. The contact startled her just as much dropping her food did--she made something of a point of limiting physical contact with men, if only to avoid even the whisper of impropriety to the waiting ears of a Matron. Overly cautious, perhaps, but it made the rare instances jarring. Now she did turn to look at him fully, fighting to keep a scowl off her face. He seemed so embarrassed, after all. Be polite, Aurelie, it was an accident. Oh, but, there was some sauce on her dress--she was so very tired, and now she'd have to go to the laundry to try and get it out. It was, of course, not somewhere an apron handily covered.

"It's quite alright," but she could not quite keep the tone of her voice from creeping to irritation. Now, there's no need to add anything else, really Aurelie-- "But I do think you should put that away, don't you?" Her hand just barely hovered over the page, as if it were not patently obvious what she meant.

[Fionn]

Loshis 9, 2719 | Late Evening
Passive Canteen, Brunnhold

.

It wasn't that he was frightened to look at her, no, of course not. She was a little thing that he could break if he decided to put his mind to it. She wasn't a threat, she wasn't scary so no, he wasn't afraid of her. He was uncertain though and embarrassed, which didn't help him remain entirely calm or sensible. Obviously, he should simply have apologised, maybe offered a sheepish smile and passed her a serviette or something. Fionn could be smooth if he wanted to be, charming, disarmingly so but he had to think about it. It wasn't something that came naturally. Oh apparently he could achieve similar effects sometimes purely by accident but if he wanted to ease any tension before it had a chance to develop into something that would bite him then the young man had to actually make it happened.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the most personable person today and he wasn't good with women - they seemed wildly unpredictable - and so he acted like an idiot instead. He'd just wanted to be left alone and ideally imagine that he was alone among these people. He'd successfully burst his own little bubble of illusion. He was genuinely sorry though; he hadn't intended to make her spill her food on the table or on herself. Her response had been rather dramatic though. Then again, Fionn had overreacted a bit himself; he wasn't in the habit of touching women, except for his sister of course but she was rather different.

His gaze registered the twitch of something on her face, some expression that hovered beneath the surface, fighting to rise above the careful neutrality that she'd pasted on her features. Brown eyes skittered away from the false face, the mask of acceptable emotion that she'd donned and found the stain on her dress instead. It was a rather noticeable stain, the sort that would likely be seen as soon as anyone looked at her. It had probably dropped from her mouth or near enough when he'd startled her so that it had fallen high on her chest, closer to her uniform's neckline rather than her breasts.

Oh shit! He realised that with his height, he was taller than her when sitting down and even at an angle, his eyes looked like they were focused lower down and-

He cleared his throat awkwardly, a small sheepish smile curving his lips as a hand found its way to the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he said, stupidly repeating the apology again because he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't even sure what he was apologising for now - the spilled food, that possibly misconstrued look, the irritation that belied her words - but he was going to do it anyway because it was good and safe and he meant it. And then she kept talking and he went still, staring at her as if he hadn't quite heard.

His hand dropped slowly from the back of his neck, the smile melting away into a frown. If she simply asked him to put it away, it would have been different but it was the way she phrased it, a suggestion that bordered on the territory of an order. His expression changed to a scowl, the teenager's jaw tense as he refrained from firing some acidic retorts her way that would have been generously laced with expletives. Once that would have been automatic, shooting his mouth off first with no thought of the consequences, allowing his anger to take the reins and damn everything else. It was something of a surprise that that wasn't what happened although he could feel it fiery hot beneath the surface, burning within him and building pressure that would be best released in a scream.

Now he was red in the face with more than embarrassment.

"No. No, I don't actually. I won't bump into you again but that's not why you want me to put it away," he responded tightly, voice low and controlled but with steel beneath it. No, he wasn't going to budge. Interfering bitch! He might have offered to move if she hadn't said it like that but now he was inclined to stay here and draw out of spite. Actually, he was also tempted to draw her now. So what if she got offended? So what if it turned out to be a caricature?

The blond turned so that he wasn't looking at her full on anymore, scooping first one and then two spoonfuls of stew into his mouth in quick succession, using his left hand so that he could get it into him as fast as possible without any incident. The spoon was placed down with a hard, defiant clink of metal and the pencil picked up instead. If she made to block him then he'd shoo her hand away from the paper as he angled himself to face her a little.

"It's none of your business," the passive intoned, flexing his fingers to loosen them, trying to ensure an easy grip. If he was going to sketch then he wanted light and easy strokes of graphite on the page. It was allowed to be rough, was meant to be rough. His gaze flicked up, mentally dividing her face into simpler lines before turning his attention downwards again. The pencil swept down and curved inwards, one side of the woman's face.

"I'm not doing you any harm. It was an accident when I bumped you and there are worse things than a bit of spilled food. I could certainly do a lot worse and I have - when I've been pissed off."

He let his knuckles crack, the scars on them popping up in sharp contrast, chalk-white against his sallow skin. The pencil swept down the other side, completing the other side of her face, chin too sharp but he didn't care. His right hand found the spoon again and he turned towards the bowl to gain another mouthful of his dinner.

"Would you like to put your hand up to get the attention of a Matron or a Patron? 'Oh help me, he's drawing!'" the middle Madden imitated her voice, his own going up in pitch and unmistakably mocking. He scribbled some rough lines to signify her hair and then paused, brown eyes moving to meet hers.

"Go on. I think you should tell them, don't you?"

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Aura had of course regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. For one thing, because it was rude, and rudeness was the first step to conflict, a state that she deeply abhorred. For another, because it was, of course, entirely none of her business. It reflected on her not at all if he got himself in trouble, and rationally she knew this even before she said anything. What did it matter if someone who was, after all, a stranger to her, whose name she didn't even know, was doing something he shouldn't? Would some Matron or Patron truly of gotten her involved--if indeed they got involved themselves? Of course not. She was just sitting there, and was largely unharmed aside from the stain on her dress and a slight elevation in her heartbeat from the surprised. Yet still she'd said it.

Regret turned to something else as she watched his gaze move to the stain--she fought a reflexive urge to draw her hand across her chest, don't be ridiculous, Aurelie--and away, the other passive's expression shifting from contrition to anger. Heat flooded her face and her stomach; Aura felt oddly exposed under such scrutiny, and betrayed by her own inability to contain herself. He was right, of course, which made it much, much worse. She did not want to sit here.

She didn't have to, of course. She could leave what remained of her dinner and the mockery behind, and go back to her room. Oh, but how would that look? Aurelie could already feel the rest of the table turned their direction--could she actually hear whispering, or was she imagining it? No, she definitely heard the murmur of gossip. If she left now, they would know she was upset, and the knowledge could turn into questions, and the questions into more gossip. Attention. And what if such an exit incited further conflict? No. No, she would stay, at least until she had finished the food in front of her. She had lost much of her appetite, but it didn't matter.

"No," she said, trying to put a lightness she didn't feel into the single syllable. "No, that isn't what I--" Her green eyes dropped; she couldn't bear to hold his gaze anymore, irritation and embarassment becoming too much for her. She turned her face--not quite away, but just away enough.

"Do whatever you'd like." A pause, and then: "Sorry."

[Fionn]

Loshis 9, 2719 | Late Evening
Passive Canteen, Brunnhold

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She stuttered, her surety gone and he knew he'd won. He'd expected it in fact. There was nothing that passives hated more than drawing attention to themselves. Attention meant trouble and trouble often meant punishment, which no one in their right mind wanted. Whether Fionn was in his right mind was certainly debatable given just how fond of trouble and attention he'd always been. He suspected that it was one of the reasons why he hadn't managed to garner friends even after he'd rid himself of Ayden the first time around. Anyone who had known the boy over the years knew that where Fionn was, trouble was sure to follow; all too often, he was at the centre of it. Who wanted to be friends with someone who was likely to get you beaten and who wouldn't thank you for your company? Of course, he'd also been a vicious little prick, which wasn't a good way to make friends but the strife he so often drew also probably hadn't helped. It still didn't honestly although he was a little less inclined to try to make friends now; he knew the nasty sort of trouble those he cared about could get into on his account if he let them get close.

So of course the girl would back down. She wasn't going to draw attention to herself if she could help it, not on his account. It wasn't worth it. It was one of the reason why so few people engaged with him, commented on the things that he did wrong. They were a timid bunch. He'd told his sister before that passive women were indeed, passive. Honestly, he was surprised that she'd had the nerve to say anything at all. It was irritating that she'd done it but the middle Madden had a grudging sort of respect for the show of spirit.

"I'll do that, yes. Thank you for your permission," he retorted sardonically, turning his attention to his stew once more, brown eyes darting quickly to the side, frowning as he took in the profile of her face. Why had she turned away like that? He could still see her face, it was true, but he couldn't see her in the same way as he had before and he didn't like it.

The passive had been drawing her and it was bloody inconvenient!

He sighed. Admittedly, he might be able to draw her a little better in profile but it wasn't a complete one and that meant that he'd have to deal with the view of her further eye over the bridge of her nose, employing foreshortening so it wasn't weird and there were too many awkward bits. It was more of a three-quarters view and that was probably the hardest thing to draw, especially as he couldn't really clocking draw! Not well enough for that in any case. The teenager had started though and he intended to finish rather than starting a new version of her or someone else; drawing paper was still a precious thing after all. Could she be coaxed back to looking his way? Probably not. He'd marked himself as trouble and more than likely she'd try to distance herself from him.

You didn't know unless you tried...

"Look, I... I'm sorry about your dress and for snapping but I'm not doing any harm and it really isn't any of your business," he remarked softly, the steel gone now as he took a gentler tone. "I don't mean to be nasty but it's been one of those days, you know?"

A smirk found its way onto his face, just one side of his mouth tilting up. It wasn't done on purpose and he wasn't aware that it was an attractive look on him, albeit a cocky one; it was an expression that had incited violence more often than not, the apparent cheekiness of it making others liable to want to knock it off his face. If he'd known it was appealing, he might have used it more, as it was, it was just something that went along with his wry tone and the knowledge that 'one of those days' was most days for passives; things usually sucked.

He stirred his stew, left hand holding the pencil which he allowed to drum idly on his drawing, beating out a gentle rhythm.

"I apologise. Sincerely. Can we forget this happened? Just... let it go?" Fionn suggested, watching her sidelong for any indication that she'd acquiesce. Really, he was only interested in having her turn back so that he could draw her. Honestly, he didn't care what she thought of him so long as she resumed a position that was suitable for his needs. As long as the girl was willing to model, he didn't care. Well... she didn't have to be willing exactly, it was doubtful that she'd want to be drawn. A lack of protest would be good though. It was only a sketch though so it wouldn't take long.

"Can we start again actually? Hello, I'm Fionn. Lovely to meet you, I'll be your dinner companion this evening but sometimes I'm a clumsy idiot and I like to draw," he introduced himself, suavely but flippant as he dragged his fingers through his hair. The blond strands flopped straight back onto his forehead.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

There was some steely part of Aura that wanted to slap that smirk right back off his face. The dig hadn't escaped her attention, and it made her want to upend her bowl right on that paper of his. And it would have served him right--maybe it was none of her business. Still--there were any number of ways to have communicated the sentiment that wouldn't have been half as rude. Was that really so much to ask? Rudeness from a golly she could take, even expect--but from another scrap?

Still.

If she said or did anything more, then whatever happened after that would be her doing, and would undoubtedly be unpleasant. If only because she would never hear the end of it from anyone. No, she wouldn't dump her dinner on his drawing. Or his lap, for that matter. Just imagining it released some tension inside her, enough that she was willing to let her usual habitual friendliness take over. He had bothered to introduce himself after all. And it was unlikely they'd see much of each other after this at any road; the harm of refusing to be even the least bit friendly far outweighed the satisfaction she would get from it.

"Hmm," she hummed exaggeratedly. A small smile tugged at her mouth, just barely. For a moment she regarded him with a sideways glance and a tilt of her head, as if pondering her response. Then--the smile broke across her face, warming it considerably as she angled both face and body slightly to face her dining companion.

"Fionn, is it then?" Aurelie inclined her head towards Fionn in a shallow polite bow. Her hair cascaded briefly across her cheek, still a little flushed from before. She tucked it behind an ear, and then untucked it again--a nervous habit. "Aurelie Steerpike. And don't worry about the dress--there's nothing for it," she added with a small laugh. There, she had been pleasant enough, surely. She pointedly had not mentioned the snapping. As it was, she was still rather irritated. Still, all of this could be forgotten and she could finish her middling dinner in peace, never to see or speak to Fionn again more than likely. Though--curiosity rather tugged at her.

"If you don't mind my asking..." Aurelie hesitated a moment. Curiosity or not, this was coming dangerously close to a personal question. Oh, chimes, but she did rather want to know. "That is...what are you drawing?"

[Fionn]

Loshis 9, 2719 | Late Evening
Passive Canteen, Brunnhold

.

He'd just wanted her to turn around that was all. He'd expected some grudging friendliness maybe, something a bit sullen but her demeanour altered dramatically. No sign of being cowed as she'd been before and no irritation. In fact, as she angled herself towards him again, he was caught entirely off guard by the radiance of her smile. He didn't have a chance to protect himself against it, hadn't imagined that he'd need to do so. She really was quite pretty and her good humour - It must be fake, it has to be - was actually quite infectious. Despite himself, the sullen young man found a genuine smile creeping onto his face, albeit an uncertain one. When she repeated his name, questioning, fear spiked through him, the anxiety sure to have flashed visibly across his face for a moment before she gave her little bow.

The blond knew that things had gotten around about him and he wondered if there was any recognition there, the girl testing out a name that had some familiarity for her. What might she have heard? Did she have some idea about him that she'd put together based on rumours? Maybe the good humour was a result of amusement, the other servant enjoying a private joke at his expense as she realised who he was. Heat rose unbidden in his face, cheeks blazing with it and the warmth spreading up to his hairline and down his neck. It felt like he should be sweating from it.

What was with that little bow though? Clocking hell, did she want to give their overseers something to take note of? Although he supposed he deserved such treatment; he'd probably come across as a pompous prick.

"Aurelie," he repeated, something like wonder in his voice but he didn't trouble to add the Steerpike. "You've kept your surname. I mean... it's not like mine went anywhere but..." he trailed of with a shrug.

Passives weren't really meant to be connected to their previous lives so dropping the surname was common, almost encouraged because it severed the link between them and families of which they were no longer a part. Some people changed their first names as well, the passive suspected. Lars had altered his somewhat, the diminutive hardly reflecting Laurentius or the host of other names he'd spouted that time when he introduced himself to Professor Devlin. Even Fionn had given his surname then, a rebellious act, especially considering that he wasn't even sure that Madden had belonged to him in the first place, his legitimacy in question.

What was he- Oh yes, he'd been drawing, hadn't he? He'd almost forgotten, which was laughable given that the activity had been the very instigator of this little interaction. The drumming of the pencil stopped, the youth glancing down at the little sketch that only bore a vague resemblance to the girl before him. Obviously there was only the outline of her face done so it could hardly look like her but the lines were wrong and the drawing would only end up diverging further from reality as he continued. That would have been fine - frustrating, sure - but fine if the subject hadn't been sitting beside him, taking an interest. Screwing up the portrait had been okay when they weren't speaking in a friendly fashion, any injustices he did a silent 'fuck you' to someone who had stuck their nose where they shouldn't.

Now he was clocking embarrassed.

"Oh well... I'm not very good- actually clocking awful at most things, especially p-p-people but I just thought- Well, it's good practice so..." the middle Madden stuttered out, cursing his ineffectual tongue. He might as well swallow the damn thing for all the good it was doing him. He set the pencil down gently, left hand finding the back of his neck to rub in his awkwardness as he was the one to angle his face away this time. Brown eyes became rather preoccupied with identifying mysterious lumps in his stew before he spooned them up, left hand tangling in the locks at the nape of his neck. Eating only bought him a few precious seconds to think and collect himself. The teenager wished he could see his reflection right now so he could see if his face was as flushed as he suspected.

"I was drawing you actually. Trying to at any rate," the passive informed his dinner, eyes darting furtively to the side to gauge her reaction but afraid that he might inadvertently meet her gaze. People could go a bit strange when they realised that he was drawing them, especially if they'd been unaware of it. When you didn't notice that others were watching you, you could reveal the damnedest things so such drawings could be uncomfortably candid. Not that he could really capture such things but...

"I should probably just stop to be honest. Obviously you don't want me staring at you and I don't know that I want you watching me watching you, especially as I'm not good at this. I wouldn't be able to do you justice," he explained, seeing the ramble coming but unable to stop himself. The tongue that had struggled and tripped before seemed to have found its groove because there seemed to be no way to apply the brakes - not quickly at any rate!

"Gus - Professor Keyes - would be able to draw you well enough, he's actually bloody good. He's the professor that I work with, does all sorts of art and he doesn't have an issue with me drawing when I'm with him sometimes, he's an odd sort of golly is Gus. Makes me call him that, won't take sir or anything, which took some clocking getting used to lemme tell you. He looks at my work from time to time, offers some tips but I'm really not good at making people look like how they really are. I mean... I could draw you and show him and obviously I know what you look like but he probably wouldn't realise that you were pretty from my... m-my drawing."

Finally, a stumbling block and what a clocking brilliant one!

He'd grown closer to his bowl, face bent low and he wondered if he should just keep going and attempt to drown himself in it. If his face made contact with the semi-liquid dish though, it'd probably start boiling from the blush.

"Not that you being pretty is the point. I just... I can't- I'm not good at- I wouldn't be able to- It wouldn't look like you!" the teenager finished forcefully, heads turning his way as his voice dipped higher.

Such... an idiot!

He proceeded to shovel food into his mouth at an alarming rate. He just needed to get to the bottom of the bowl as fast as possible and run before he said anything else that made him sound like an utter towhead. Maybe he really was a dumb blond.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

You kept your surname. Something pulled at her heart when Fionn said it--a wave of some dark waters that threatened to drown her if she let them. Aurelie quickly slammed a wall down over them, though she was unsure if she had done it before a reflection of it had crossed her face. She hoped so. She had kept it, though it did her no good. It was still hers, wasn't it? If not outside the walls of Brunnhold then at least in here, she could have it, could trace the syllables of her family name like the edges a well-worn photograph. Aurelie did not hate them; she couldn't. Her parents had only wanted the best for her, her whole life--it wasn't their fault she was... this way. And her sister. Oh, her sister--she was the one Aurelie wanted to stay connected to most of all. Her bright, brilliant sister, shining like a copper-colored star. She had newspaper clippings of her sister's accomplishments passed to her surreptitiously every so often. While she didn't dare keep them, Aurelie read them over and over, committing every word to memory before destroying them.

"Ah--yes... I did. I am--"Pull yourself together, Aurelie, or he'll notice--"I'm proud of my sister. Of them. If not of..."...me. She let the thought trail off unsaid. Dwelling on it didn't do anyone any good. Best to just put it away.

All of that passed over her face in a fraction of a moment, the familiar longing sadness replaced with absolute embarassment.

Her? He was drawing her? Whatever reason could anyone possibly have to do that? She was torn between a strange feeling of being too closely watched and wild flattery. She was unaccustomed to anyone paying much mind to her at all; in fact, she relied upon it. Warmth crept up from the back of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. Pretty? Pretty? And he meant her, Aurelie? In all of her 20 years, she could count on one hand the times someone had described her thus (excluding, of course, in her childhood, when a well-meaning auntie or uncle would do so while patting her on the head before moving on to talk to her sister). In fact, she was positive that of all the people to tell her she was pretty in her entire life, about half of the instances were a former roommate, who had been distinctly unpleasant to her and had said it more like a curse than a compliment. She really did not know what to make of it.

"Oh," Aurelie squeaked. Squeaked? Yes, that was absolutely a distinct pitch difference. How absolutely horrid. Oh, this was really too much for her at this hour, after the day she'd had. "Er, well. Thank you?" That was probably not the right thing to say but--just what did one say to all this? Bells and chimes, she was absolutely out of her depth. This conversation had gone too far. Aurelie was distinctly unaccustomed to speaking with men, to boot--she had a particularly gossipy roommate, and she didn't want the trouble of attracting and Matronly attention, thankyouverymuch. Not even to be polite, or to get along. Really the subject rarely came up to begin with, so she was ill-practiced. That Fionn seemed equally as embarassed as she was didn't help a whit. If anything, it made it all so very much more acute.

"So, ah--Professor Keyes?" Aurelie was desperate to change the subject. An eccentric professor seemed far safer a topic than whatever road the previous conversation was going down. "He sounds... Interesting?" He actually sounded fair strange, actively encouraging Fionn to draw. That, too, was strange to her. Aurelie had indeed heard of Fionn, though she'd never before connected a face to the name and reputation. If she had, she likely would have kept her mouth shut earlier, ignored him, and then she wouldn't be sitting here on the verge of spontanous combustion. What she'd heard didn't seem to quite add up; something about a drawing habit felt at odds with the way she'd heard others describe Fionn. It was almost, very nearly, somewhat endearing. If one forget the whole rest of the conversation, of course.

There was some tittering from a few seats down; Aurelie ignored it with no small amount of struggle. Be polite, Aurelie, polite never fails you.

[Fionn]

Loshis 9, 2719 | Late Evening
Passive Canteen, Brunnhold

.

Familial connections… he was surprised that anyone, any passive could still manage to feel anything positive towards their families after what they’d done. Sure, it was the done thing to send your non-magical children away in shame, to cloister them within the walls of the prestigious Anaxi university but they’d been all too happy to let it happen, hadn’t they? Most of the passives in here had been discarded without a second thought, wiped from the family tree as if they’d never existed because in truth, they might as well not have. Families were meant to care for you, that’s what he’d been led to understand and while Niamh had been the only one who gave a damn about him, he understood that others had multiple family members who had loved them, doted on them, cherished them and in spite of all that supposed love, had cut them off without a backwards glance.

Proud… How could Aurelie be proud? What was familial pride when you were a passive? They all might as well be bastards because they were all illegitimate; not one of them had turned out to be what had been expected, like discovering that your precious offspring had actually been uprooted by a damn cuckoo!

It was something that the teenager could have ranted against, could have had a great many furiously bitter opinions on but that wasn’t something he was going to start with the young woman. There was no point wasting his breath, especially as he might well just end up frustrated tears at the end of it all and for what? Maybe she’d had a family that actually gave a damn about her rather than one sister who would have a relationship with you in secret. Besides, she had her own pain to bear - he saw it flicker across her face - and there was no use trying to break her back by piling on his own.

In hindsight, he had to wonder if he wouldn’t have been better off starting an argument about families; it would have been far less embarrassing and even if it drew attention, it wasn’t likely to have been as bad.

Fionn went and opened his stupid mouth and said all the wrong things - least things he hadn’t wanted to say exactly, even if they were all true - and she had gone pink. One glance in their direction would likely have a Matron or a Patron breathing down their necks because they were opposite sex passives having a quiet conversation together while both of them blushed.

Noticing that she was blushing honestly only made his own more fiery, which he wouldn’t have thought possible. His face was so unbelievably hot as if he’d been too close to a fire and his skin was just about ready to scorch. The squeak also didn’t help matters either and he honestly didn’t know what to make of it. However, she didn’t complain about the drawing but offered an awkward and uncertain thanks as if it was a compliment that he’d chosen her. Maybe in a roundabout way, it was.

Instead of allowing him to choke to death on his own food in his haste to consume it and escape, she actually pressed him for more information about Keyes. She wanted to continue this conversation? Hulali’s tits! Wasn’t she as embarrassed about this whole encounter as she was? Oh Circle save him, had his accidental compliments won favour with her and now she was interested in him? He didn’t know. The teenager didn’t know the first thing about girls and Niamh hardly counted - she was his sister after all!

He has to slow down, taking the time to chew and swallow with care so that he could speak without having his mouth full.

"He’s weird honestly. Don’t get me wrong, he’s fantastic at what he does, engraving and everything but he’s… a little moony. He talks to pieces of wood and things, talks to himself a lot and he… he doesn’t believe in using magic. He’s a galdor and he doesn’t use it. I’ve been working with him months and I’ve seen him cast uh… twice, I think? I mean imagine being so privileged that you choose not to use magic," he commented, making a sound of disgust at the base of his throat.

Her topic change was actually helping. This was territory that he understood and it gave him better control, adding animation to his features as passion blazed within him.

”He’s eccentric and doesn’t know whether to treat me like a person or a bad pet sometimes but he’s… definitely not the worst. He brought me off campus last month to this dance performance. In theory, I was there to help with his supplies so he could sketch the dancers, the movements - so graceful, so perfect -“ his breath caught briefly, a distant glaze to his eyes as he was lost in the memory, ”- but I got to watch the performance and it was fantastic. I… everyone knew what I was though and it was… All those gollies thought I was going to blow up at any moment, I swear…”

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He shouldn’t even have said that much. She’d probably pass it on and then everyone would have another reason to gaze at him resentfully, enviously because of his ‘easy’ position.

”Pretend… pretend that I didn’t tell you that,” he whispered softly, focusing on his stew, stirring it. It felt like a thick lump had lodged in his throat and he could barely swallow now, an ache rippling up and down every time he swallowed.

”Please Aurelie… don’t. They already think that I’m some pampered pet and I’m not. It’s not… it’s not what the others think it is.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Aurelie was taken aback, both by the description of Professor Keyes and the fervor of the request. And jealous, too--though of Keyes or of Fionn, she wasn't truly certain. Surely it was a great privilege to be able to choose not to use magic, to be so assured of one's place in the world as to leave some part of it unoccupied. Secure that nobody would fill it or take it away simply from disuse. She found herself much less envious of Fionn. He had the professor's favor from the sound of it, true, but all that could get you was--was a glimpse into something that you couldn't have. A window into a life that wasn't yours, but might have been. If they hadn't been born broken.

No, she supposed that ignorance was bliss. After a fashion. She had to believe it--to do otherwise was to give in to the itching in her bones.

"I won't," she promised. She meant it. What others did was their business, and Aurelie wanted no part in it. Besides, who would she tell? The Matron? The other girls? That would only lead to more questions about when and why they had discussed it at all. It seemed cruel, besides, and Aurelie was startled to find she did not wish to be cruel to Fionn specifically. The passion that lit up his face when talking about the outing with Professor Keyes--no. He was rude, and she wasn't sure that she liked him, but she didn't want to do him any harm. Not more harm than a swift kick in the shins would bring, at least.

Promise extracted, she found herself at a loss for any further response. The blush had retreated from her features, her anxious shyness replaced by a more familiar easy calm. Aurelie absently stirred the stew in front of her, and took a now-lukewarm bite. Still middling.

"That does sound rather nice." And then, seized by some strange nostalgic melancholy, "My sister took me to see the ballet once, when I was little. I thought it was dreadfully boring." At that, she flashed a rueful smile, but laced with the edge of a joke.

"I suppose I was too young--that was a lifetime ago, anyway. I don't suppose I'll ever know if I like it any better now!" It may as well have happened to another child. The memory was treasured all the same. Lilliana had always loved taking her places that as a small child she found absolutely dreadful--"for culture", her sister had said. As a teenager and a Brunnhold student, she had come into a newfound worldliness and was eager to share it with her baby sister. As an adult, Aurelie reflected that it must have been a kind of showing off. A girl trying to play at being a woman full grown. Sometimes, of late, Aurelie realized with a start that she was as old as Lilliana had been when last Aura had seen her. That Lilliana had been discussing marriage and courtship with their parents, preparing to take hold of her future. It made Aurelie feel terribly old and young all at once.

Aurelie came to with a start, realizing that she had let herself drift off into reverie. She was tired.

"I'm sorry--that's a boring story. I should probably head to the laundry," she added, gesturing vaguely to her dress. "Nice meeting you."