[Closed] Scholastic Intermission

[Niamh Madden]

Roalis 22, 2719 | Early Afternoon
Brunnhold Library

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The sun was splitting the stones, the summer season finally beginning to take ahold properly as temperatures climbed free of the wet cool of Hamis. There weren’t many students around on campus — weren’t many galdori in truth — as everyone took advantage of the long break between terms but those who lingered on campus could be found outside.

Well, almost everyone.

Niamh wasn’t a huge lover of the sunshine and neither was her skin, especially on this cloudless day with its warm breezes. She’d been out in it when she went to get lunch so she knew what it was like and hadn’t liked it, even though she was probably alone in that sentiment. The eldest Madden had seen students lounging on the grass out of their Brunnhold greens and in lighter, more fashionable clothing as they chattered in groups; she’d even seen a picnic or two and at least one game of croquet. Unlike her peers, she’d been sure to scuttle back to the safety of the library once she’d eaten.

Not that the library was free of the season of course, sunbeams entering through the building’s windows and casting a radiant circle where the ceiling allowed light to shine down on the comfortable, overstuffed chairs of the more relaxed reading area. At this time of day with the sun practically overhead, not yet having properly begun its downward arc since reaching its meridian, the reading area was like the spot beneath a magnifying glass where light rays focused. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but it really was warm and was far from inviting to the final year student. Instead, she’d opted for a dingier space where she could focus on her studies without having to deal with the pesky reflections of light bouncing off the the varnished surface of the study tables dotted throughout the many stacks. There was more than enough light to work by and illuminate the dust motes that drifted lazily through the air.

As far as the young woman could tell, she basically had the place to herself aside from the odd passive that had been granted access to clean and the unfortunate woman who’d been drafted in to sit at the main desk to maintain services while the typical rota of student volunteers—often postgraduates—was out of kilter because of the holidays. When Niamh had returned to the place after her lunch, the woman had fallen asleep at her post, gentle snores emanating from her as she sat with her head propped up on her hand. It was quiet and peaceful and she could work with her belongings spread out across her table without having to worry about others coming along to share it with her.

The Living Conversationalist had various anatomy, physiology, medical and arcane books arrayed around her. Some sat in piles, others were propped open and she shifted between them, some sort of organisation to the tomes that a casual observer most likely wouldn’t identify. She also had a multitude of papers before her, many bearing notes in her elegant hand as she scribbled away. Others might be enjoying the weather but Niamh Madden was studying hard, well aware that her final term at Brunnhold was approaching and that she had plenty of irons in the fire to keep her busy.

She sat making notes and occasionally murmuring to herself, an awareness of strong and oft repetitive noises dawning on her slowly. It must have been a number of minutes since her return to the building when it grated on her senses, the young woman doing her best to ignore it but having to pause and give it her attention after she found her gaze skimming the same sentences repeatedly without gleaning any meaning from the printed letters.

The redhead stopped what she was doing, frowning as she forced herself to sit motionless and listen. Yes, there was a rhythmic thumping sound coming from somewhere as if someone was banging against something repeatedly. Not thumping alone though but an occasional scratch and scrape that irked the senses. While she couldn’t identify the thumps, the other sounds made her think of the noise the chair legs made as they were moved over the hardwood floors, that particular squeal of something dragged against the varnished surface.

Niamh frowned, turning her head slowly one way and then another in an effort to identify the direction. Whoever was doing it probably thought that they had the run of the place and didn’t expect to disturb anyone. Then again, regardless of what they thought, she couldn’t understand what they were doing to make such a noise; whoever they were, they certainly weren’t studying.

She stood — wincing slightly as her own seat’s legs squealed across the floor as she pushed away from the desk — and went in search of the source of the disturbance. She moved between various shelves, trying to determine if she was growing nearer or moving away from whatever strange noises she was hearing, brow creased as she zeroed in on it. Her own steps were soft, the skirt of her uniform dress swishing lightly, especially when the fabric rubbed against her stockings.

As she drew nearer, what she heard grew no more identifiable, although the mutter of a voice could now be added to the catalogue of sounds that someone was making without thought for anybody else in the vicinity. It sounded as if whoever was behind this was actually two people conversing quietly — the only thing they were doing quietly or an individual talking to themselves.

After a couple of minutes of searching, the galdor rounded a shelf and came upon the culprit, field pulsing faintly with irritation as her arms crossed over her chest, an unconscious defensive gesture. As it turned out it was one person—another student— and he had a sly look about him. It was an awful thing to think of someone that you happened across but that was her first impression. He was scruffy and dark-haired with a slightly pinched look that made her think of a rodent but a wily one. Strangely enough, she also managed to see something of her gated brother within him, paradoxical given that Fionn frequently came across as innocent seeming and this boy did not — and of course, they didn’t look alike.

Niamh halted not long after rounding the shelf, lips pursed disapprovingly as she considered him.

"Excuse me!" she called out, wincing minutely at how unexpectedly loud her voice sounded and so full of recrimination.

"What on Vita do you think you’re doing?" the Madden girl asked haughtily. "I was studying and I could hear these- these- these noises! And I couldn’t work out- If you’re going to be in here, could you try to be considerate, please? If you want to get on with some sort of- of tomfoolery then perhaps you should consider leaving!"

[Brodie Sutherland]

The Library- Brunnhold

The 22nd Day of Roalis, 2719 Afternoon

Brodie was absolutely positive the bookend hadn't been this high up when he'd seen it last, but the dust on the shelf and around it suggested that he had, in fact, just miscalculated the distance between he and it. He thought he'd be able to scale the bookshelf and just grab the thing, but the shelves piled with books creaked threateningly under his weight in a way he wasn't fond of. He definitely wasn't going to break his leg for a bookend.

So first he tried a chair, and then when that was comically short of reach, he had to go all the way to the back and drag one of the few book ladders over, muttering to himself about rich scholars and their obsessions with tall rooms and how all the books ought to just fall on the bastards and break their necks and/or crush them.

Was the bookend worth it? Almost definitely not, and certainly not if he were caught, but a passive he could just chew out for interrupting his studies, and the unlucky sucker at the front desk was soundly asleep. Would he have preferred to be outside? Yes. But since the sun would lighten his hair and tan him to the point where he didn't look so much like his dear dad anymore, he was strictly forbidden from "playing around outside". Like he was in first form. Ugh. Not that anyone would see him here!

And they wouldn't miss the bookend, either. It was a great one, a twisty hatcher marked out of wood by blocky chisel strokes, impaled by a spear. Pretty dated, though. He'd picked a nice spot for it to prop up some of his textbooks in his room, not too obvious--

An angry voice interrupted his thought. "Excuse me!"

Three steps up the ladder, Brodie was so startled he about smashed his face into the top of it. He whipped around, then, squinting at the intruder, had to brush his hair out from his face to see properly. He covered the miss with a sneer and toss of the head. Yeah, very intimidating.

The intruder was a slim young woman, redheaded, in the Brunnhold greens rather than the more casual summer wear the showoffy students had all opted for as if by some sort of shedding instinct. Between the uniform and the indignant pout she wore while she rattled on about how he was being a nuisance, this girl wasn't tapped into the guiding fashions. No, she was definitely some kind of stuffy bookworm, and probably inclined to go tattle to the staff if she cottoned on to his scheme. Just his luck.

"What, pretty girl can't concentrate if someone else is trying to use the library? How spoiled are you?"

[Niamh Madden]

Roalis 22, 2719 | Early Afternoon
Brunnhold Library

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Another student would have rankled at being called ‘spoiled’. It would have been the sticking point for any sensible galdor, it would have been the comment that prompted an indignant denial. Whether or not she was spoiled didn’t enter the young woman’s head, not when the other student was gazing at her from his low perch on one of the bookshelf ladders, because some part of her was already considering how foolish it had been for her to come here and comment on his behaviour — he was using the library after all, wasn’t he? Ordinarily, accusations of being spoiled wouldn’t have deterred Niamh, she would have still explained her position albeit with some blushing and awkward embarrassment and not because he was an attractive young man who seemed to know it but because she was a terribly, self-conscious twit!

However, the spoiled comment barely registered with the eldest Madden because he’d said something else that was not offensive but ludicrous, beyond ridiculous, the sort of thing to cause an indignant response in her because it so obviously wasn’t true. Her youngest brother and her low self-esteem every time she regarded her own reflection were proof of that. The black-haired boy was mistaken — strongly mistaken.

"I’m not pretty!" she blurted, a flush racing up her neck. Hers wasn’t the pleased denial or someone who liked the compliment and was hoping for more — further affirmation of just how pretty they were — but the waspish sort as if someone had claimed seeing a flock of flying pigs and the listener was offended by the incredible claim. However, once that knee-jerk response had come out, the final year student’s senses returned to her and she felt instant foolishness.

Had she really just-

Her face was already as crimson as it was going to get but the student could have sworn that heat still poured into it, even though it couldn’t make any more of a difference. Did a body care? Probably not. The heat of it was awful though, enough to make Niamh feel a little faint. Whether it was her need to say something sensible after something so daft or the words simply needed to escape before her brain caught fire, the young woman’s mouth opened and a stuttering deluge poured out.

“Of course you can use the library, n-n-no one is stopping you. I’m certainly not g-g-going to complain about someone making sensible use of his time,” she explained, waving her hands as she spoke, the gestures aimless. As she realised what she was doing, she clasped them together, allowing them to fall to her skirts but even then, she couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting them, even as she stepped nearer.

“I wouldn’t mind- I mean, it’d be perfectly all right if you weren’t- I don’t know how you’ve been trying to use the library but it’s like you’ve been bouncing around the shelves like a- like a- a- a piikii!” she commented, waving her hands towards the shelves and the ladder he’d been mounting. Now that she was taking in the scene, she couldn’t actually understand how he’d been making so much noise. He looked innocent enough — or his actions did, not his face. Gods, that was an awful thing to think! But his face did make him look as if he was up to no good.

“What were you even doing? How can you- How did you- I can’t understand h-h-how you made so much noise anyway, like- like- Don’t you know how to use the library?” Niamh all but wailed.

She’d stepped nearer to him now, could feel his field and found herself dampening her own a little out of politeness because the Living Conversationalist was in company and her field was also a lot larger than his. Larger, stronger, more disciplined. It was odd actually. He wasn’t that much younger than she was — he couldn’t be — but he didn’t have the same level of… of… Was it structure that she was thinking about? She wasn’t sure. It felt like it belonged to someone quite young — or unfocused. Given the noise he’d been making, she was ready to believe him unfocused.

“Obviously, you need to make use of it- I mean, you could do with applying yourself, your field- Not that it’s a criticism, I just mean- Well, I’m sure- You’re in the library for good reason, aren’t you? It’s a good time to catch up a-a-and I’m sure if you can focus and not- If you need help with Living, I can do that!” the student blurted.

She’d begun tugging at her hair, putting it into disorder and she started to smooth it now, gathering it together and stroking it with the palms of her hands. Really she should tie it up, yes, she should do that. She gathered it into a ponytail, holding it in place as she sought something to secure it. There should be a ribbon in her pocket unless it had fallen out. She found it, drawing the strip of material out, a green that matched her uniform and began fiddling it around the strands, fingers shaking because she was horribly self-conscious.

Pretty...

“I’m sorry, I can feel Living mona and I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed. Just- Could you please just be mindful that you aren’t the only one here? I wouldn’t expect you to be completely quiet but could you- could you try to keep it down? Please?” the young woman suggested sheepishly, slipping strands through trembling fingers so that she had to neaten the ponytail up again before tying it off.