The Acceptance Of Not Knowing

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Sun Feb 03, 2019 11:19 pm

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office ✿ Evening
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It was strange, really, how quickly one could find utter discontent with everything they had ever known, had ever been given, but for Lars the walls he had carefully constructed over the last sixteen years took only hours to crumble into nothing but little, ramshackle pieces on the ground before him. It was strange how quickly one could get a taste of the life that had been forsaken for them at such a tender young age, just to have it slip away as it had back then; just to return to the absolute pit of hell that he had once seen as his peaceful lot in life even if it hadn't been so pleasing. It was strange how quickly the world could devour one's sense of morality and justice. It was strange how quickly one could stop caring, at all, that they were being so hastily devoured, and how quickly one could learn to give in to it.

Let it win. Let some part of yourself win, for once, something they couldn't take away and that they couldn't just ignore. He was done with the shadows.

Yet they were never done with him; Lars, in all his rightful wrath, was still nothing but a statue in the walls of Brunnhold, nothing but a monument to his kind's absolute uselessness to be passed by each day and ignored. Perhaps a brick sticking ever-so-slightly from the wall, but not enough to be noticed. Never enough to be noticed.

On the evening of one wintry Achtus day, he received something strange: a summon to some visiting researcher's office. The reasoning behind the researcher's summon had been left unclear both to the passive that had informed him as well as Lars himself, but a request from a superior was of course never a matter to ignore.

So it came to be that the blonde left the kitchens after his last shift of the day, heading straight towards the Bodecca neighborhood housing the researcher's temporary office, rather than making a detour back to his shared dorm and perhaps cleaning himself up or at least changing. He held no interest in any small breaks in his living space; he cared not for the people nor the space that had once provided relief and a small sense of safety and privacy. These days the servant preferred spending all the time he could wandering the university's numerous and unending halls, tending to what matters a lone passive could, keeping his time spent in the dorm to the absolute minimum when at all possible.

He honestly had no clue what a researcher might want from him personally. The passive he'd sent to fetch him could've provided him with whatever assistance he needed, whether it be in moving his things or grabbing things from elsewhere, and so he was utterly lost as to why some traveler would request his presence.

No matter, all things would be made clear soon, even if they were confusing the man on his walk towards Bodecca. Not actually possessing a jacket that would provide shelter from the cold, winter air, Lars' pace was quick, and he arrived in record time, doing his best to quell the shakes that had briefly overtaken his form.

He wasn't built for this cold, no.

Standing in front of the door to the unfamiliar researcher's temporary university office, Lars took a breath, steeling himself for whatever odd and unusual things a foreign galdor might want of him.

Reaching out with a cold, bony hand, he knocked against the door three times, afterwards calling quietly, "sir? You requested him?"

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Netheneale Rami-Savatier
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 12:24 am

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office | Evening
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Netheneale had dressed his best, in a white suit with patterns of golden flowers, and a single ring on his finger from his mother. It had taken some inquiring and searching, but it wasn't that hard for the man. What had really tested Neth's boundaries had been learning something new--cooking. Reading was something the galdor took pleasure in, and recently he had stumbled upon a nice book in the Stacks with recipes on some fine dishes. The recipe for a cheesecake had caught his eye, and he had hoped to share it with his nephew on his special day.
SpoilerShow
Learning to cook, and trying to make a great cake: 1d6 = (6) = 6

The fine, sweet blistleberry cheesecake, had turned out great. It sat on the galdor's desk while he made sure everything else had been taken care of. Letters, check, book, check. a flapping of wings could suddenly be heard as the teacup drake in Neth's office landed on the table and greedily grabbed at the cheesecake. Neth swatted the creature off of the table as he spoke to himself, "miraan, check."

Neth sat down in the chair at his desk, now confident he hadn't forgotten anything. Staring at the two letters next to the cheesecake, he sighed as he finally saw the hole in his plan. What am I even supposed to say to him? A knock at the door took the man out of his thoughts, and he tried to hide the panic in his voice when he heard his nephew had arrived.

"You mean Laurentius, yes? Of course, let me get the door."

Neth stood up and walked over to the door, glancing back at his desk once to make sure the miraan hadn't tried to fly at his well-crafted cake. As his hand rested on the handle to the door, the galdor took a deep breath. You can do this, Neth, you can do this.

Opening the door slowly, Netheneale was surprised to find himself not staring down at the servant he had sent for his nephew. His ears must have been playing tricks on him, "oh-is that you... Laurentius?"

The confused galdor smiled at the young man; he had the features of Lionel and Fleur so it must have been him, "Uhm-come inside! I have a surprise for you."

Taking a step back into his office, Neth nodded towards the cheesecake on his desk. He had rehearsed this moment every day for the past week, but couldn't find any of the words he had planned to speak. Good lady, Neth! Get yourself together!

The family had always meant a great deal to Neth, and he didn't want to mess this up. The galdor felt sick and loudly took a deep breath as he tried to hide his nerves with another smile at his nephew. He would make his nephew feel at home, he just needed the right words. "I-uhm. It's my birthday."

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 12:51 am

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office ✿ Evening
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Whilst awaiting an answer from the galdor inside the office, Lars used the time to rub his arms with his hands, willing away the cold that had sunk deep into his flesh and struck gold in his sharp bones. Soon enough there was a response from inside, the nature of which caused the servant to raise an eyebrow, listening in confusion as his lengthy name was called for confirmation.

Not many knew him by anything but Lars. He didn't give it out, and even the majority of professors and other faculty weren't aware of his name--they didn't care and didn't have the information nonetheless. The office's occupant obviously knew more about him than he did them, and it did little to help the anxiety that had begun to claw at his insides.

Soon after the door was opened, revealing a taller galdor that he certainly didn't recognize. How did this man know him, and what could he possibly want?

"He--sir?" the passive tried quietly, the man's smile only furthering his confusion, "a--a surprise? Sir, he's not sure what's going on."

Yet the galdor was stepping back into the warm office, gesturing towards a cheesecake that sat upon his desk. A surprise? For him? The day was only getting weirder by the minute, and he'd only known the man for a few. Lars swallowed the lump in his throat, remaining still for only a moment longer before following the galdor into the office. It was... his birthday? The blonde nodded, quite obviously at a loss for what to do now that he had arrived, and glanced towards the cheesecake again with a faraway blue gaze.

"Of course sir, happy birthday. Is that why you called him here; do you want him to cut the cake for you, or serve you and some guests?" he grasped for answers, possible explanations as to why a traveling researcher might request him on his birthday.

Curiously, Lars' eyes flicked back to the taller man, noticing the fancy and quite obviously expensive attire he wore. It was quite a contrast to his own clothing; pale Brunnhold blues made of poor-quality material and worn with poorer attitudes.

"He's sorry, sir, but does he know you? He's afraid he doesn't know your name, though it seems you know his."
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Netheneale Rami-Savatier
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 2:41 am

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office | Evening
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Neth wanted to kick himself as he realized how vague he had been with his nephew. Holding in a laugh at Laurentius' confusion on who the cake was for, the galdor felt a little more relaxed now that he knew they were both equally confused. "Oh no, of course not! This cake is for us! I made it myself with a little help from William, he's a nice--" it took everything inside of the galdor to stop himself from defensively rambling. Waving a hand towards a seat at his desk, Neth spoke. "Take a seat Mister Savatier, we have a few matters to discuss."

Netheneale closed the door behind Laurentius and walked back towards his seat, sitting down as he answered the passive. "Oh, of course! My apologies, nephew. I'm your uncle, Netheneale Rami-Savatier," He was used to forgetting some introductions, but this was embarrassing. Hopefully, the cheesecake would cover for him, "I've been meaning to see you for a long time, but me and your father..."

The galdor stopped speaking and picked up the letter on his desk from Fleur. I hope Lionel forgives me for this one day, I wouldn't have broken my promise if it was unimportant, brother.

Setting the letter back down on the table, Neth took two smaller plates and placed a slice of his cheesecake on each one. Now that introductions were out of the way, he felt his confidence slowly returning. "Your mother asked me to come here with a letter, and I was eager to come after she had given me permission."

The miraan flew by Neth's plate, successfully stealing a nice chunk from his slice of cheesecake while the galdor was occupied with talking. "Oh, I forgot to mention! Along with your mother's letter, I brought a few things of my own for you."

Opening a cabinet in his desk, Neth pulled out a homemade picture book and placed it on the table. The book was on animals, and how they behave around humans. Educational, yet also entertaining (or so Neth thought, he was more focused on making it educational). The main character was a leira named Ambrose from Mugroba, and the book was all about how his kind interacts with the wildlife from Anaxas. It was actually a pretty grim tale, left with an open ending after Ambrose stumbled upon a pack of bander wolves. "I didn't know if you had any reading material, so I made this for you."

Netheneale watched his nephew closely, trying to read the boy's emotions. After a few moments of staring, the galdor pushed two letters he had been holding on his side of the desk towards Laurentius. "Of course, the letter takes importance. I apologize, Laurentius. I just wanted to make you feel welcome in here. Your mother's note is on the right, the one on the left is... mine." Netheneale had no idea if it was a foolish idea to have brought the letter he had written in his youth with him-- it was addressed to a ten-year-old Laurentius, written right before he had learned the boy was passive.

Netheneale stared at the letter he had written, now unsure of himself. I left him here, even after swearing that I'd never do such a thing.

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 7:01 pm

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office ✿ Evening
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Lars was certain his confusion was displayed clearly across his sharp, angular features, even if little emotion hardly crossed his distant blue eyes. Every word the researcher offered only provided him with more questions than answers, and the passive struggled to keep up with the galdor as he spoke. The cheesecake was for them both? That was just... weird, wasn't it? He offered a nod nonetheless, hesitant but there, and followed the older man towards the desk.

He remained standing for a few moments longer than the older, watching him with a note of concern, but finally seated himself.

Mister Savatier. Matters to discuss. This wouldn't be good. Had someone found out about Fred? Had someone told? Professor Devlin wouldn't have, surely, and he knew that Professor Moore was either oblivious of the fact or cared enough for his well-being not to mention it. Fionn, or even Ayden, perhaps.

However, his fears were abolished as the galdor explained, even if his answer made his blood go cold.

Uncle Neth. No, surely not, his uncle wouldn't want to see him now and he certainly wouldn't want to speak with him, but as he stared across the desk at the older man, he couldn't deny the recognition that sparked in his mind. Lars was quiet, blinking through lost eyes and perhaps an even more lost expression, unsure of how to react to the situation. He'd never been faced with family again and hadn't expected to ever see any of them again. He had tucked them away into some corner of his mind with all the other things that he could always reach for, but never grasp, never keep.

His internal struggle was overwhelming, hence why the servant remained silent, listening to his uncle continue on about things more absurd than the next.

A letter from his mother, who had given his uncle permission to see him. A book he had made for him. Another letter.

Looking away, Lars allowed himself to lean back in the chair, his thoughts preoccupied for a moment as he considered how to respond. He definitely hadn't been expecting this. Reaching out with an uncertain hand, the man grabbed the letter from his mother, holding the envelope almost protectively between his fingers.

"He can't read," finally said the blonde, glancing back to meet Netheneale's gaze, "he doesn't understand. Sir, why would you come to speak with him now?" glancing down to his mother's letter, Lars bit the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, "forgive his bluntness, but it's been almost seventeen years since he's seen his parents, and longer since he's seen you. He doesn't know why you would come now. Whatever you remember of him or expect of him--it's long gone."
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Netheneale Rami-Savatier
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 8:28 pm

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office | Evening
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Neth took a bite from his cheesecake in a futile attempt to stop his thoughts with the power of food. His nephew grabbed his mother's letter, and he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. The galdor did his best to read his nephew's body language, but he was at a loss for how the boy felt. I didn't give Anatala enough credit, this is hard. Laurentius had seemed lost in thought, but eventually looked back at his uncle and spoke.

"You can't read?" This confused Neth greatly, Lionel would have certainly taught the boy to read, maybe his nephew had just forgotten during his years of servitude. "Well, if you'd be interested in some more family time together, I'm sure I can teach you myself. Would you like for me to read the letter to you?"

The miraan landed onto Neth's shoulder, licking up the crumbs on his lips from the cheesecake he had stolen. The cheesecake on the table caught its eye, but a grumble from Neth persuaded it to stay on his shoulder for the moment. The galdor took a deep breath to calm himself as Laurentius continued speaking, asking where he had been.

"I..." Neth felt sick as he considered the questions asked, and the heavy weight of guilt had only grown heavier on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Laurentius. I should have come earlier, I even planned to. It's just..." the galdor stood up and turned around to stare outside his window, hoping to calm himself by looking at something less intimidating than the current situation. "Your father and I disagreed on how to help you, and I was foolish in fighting with him. I thought keeping a promise to him after what I had done was the right decision, but I was..."

I thought keeping my word to Lionel would fix things, but look what my 'honor' has done here. Netheneale turned away from the window and took a step towards Laurentius, looking him in the eye. "Stupid. I was stupid for thinking a promise was more important than my own family, and I want to make it up to you, I'm going to make it up to you."

The galdor shook his head at the last sentence from his nephew, "I came here not knowing what to expect, Laurentius. You're in this clocking situation because of foolish expectations in the first place! You're... different, changed, sure, but that doesn't matter to me. You're my family, you're my nephew. You're Laurentius Savatier, and it's about time this clocking university learns the weight of that name."

When he had arrived at Brunnhold, the galdor didn't truly know what had called him here, but now he was sure of it--this was his chance to make things right. You can do this, Neth. The galdor raised his nervous and shaky left hand, and tried to place it on his nephew's shoulder.

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Lars
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Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
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Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 9:12 pm

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office ✿ Evening
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A hint of displeasure in his eyes, Lars felt almost defensive as the older man repeated his lack of literacy. Of course he couldn't read, he'd just told him, why did he have to repeat it? It was no secret among his peers that he was often lost or otherwise confused by bigger words, and actually reading was out of the question. In all the times he had tried, thinking that perhaps something would just click, he had been met with a scrambled page and nonsensical letter-combinations.

He didn't respond just yet on the matter of reading the letter; he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what his mother might've written. Her face was little more than a blur; a memory once pleasant but now useless, painful. His mother had been a pillar in his pre-Brunnhold life and her response to his passivity had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, even now. It was as if she had just stopped caring, or that she hadn't cared at all in the first place. He didn't care to know the specifics when they wouldn't change a thing.

"His father?" tried the younger, "his father didn't care about how to help him. He didn't even say goodbye, how could he possibly have wanted to help?"

Really, the question was more directed at himself; he was processing his uncle's strange explanations through speaking his thoughts aloud, as he had no other idea of how to handle the matter.

"Sir. He understands that you feel attached, somehow, but the world is not so kind. Brunnhold is never going to care about his name, or what family he's from, because he doesn't belong to any family at all, not anymore," he continued, looking to the hand that rested upon his shoulder, "maybe he was your nephew once, but Laurentius Savatier and all the weight behind his name is dead."

Not so true, is it?

He's trying to protect us. You know what trusting this will do to us.

And I'm trying to protect us, loon. Go along with this. Take back my name.

"His name is Lars, sir, and if you need any assistance during your stay here in the university he's happy to help, but he isn't interested in matters that don't concern him."

Gods you're a fool.

He's not a fool. He's keeping us safe. Something you should have done in Dentis, but you had to start having a heart for once, didn't you?

Lars cleared his throat uncomfortably, shrugging the hand off of his shoulder and moving to stand. Netheneale towered above the shorter passive, even more so when the younger bowed, afterwards slipping away and towards the door.

"Is that all, sir?"
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Netheneale Rami-Savatier
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Mon Feb 04, 2019 10:21 pm

Achtus 37, 2718
Netheneale's Office | Evening
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The galdor was surprised, sad, and somewhat disappointed. He blamed Brunnhold, he blamed the family, and he blamed his own stupid choices for leaving his nephew alone for sixteen years. They had turned him into whatever he was now, and it seemed the damage they had done was irreparable to Neth.

"Please, Laurentius!" The galdor knew he was wasting breath as he spoke. Sighing in resignation as his nephew bowed, he took a step backward and sunk back down in his seat at his desk. "Of course, I'll make sure to ask for you if I need any assistance, nephew. In return, remember you may call on me at any time. I will be in Brunnhold for the foreseeable future. Of course, Laurentius. You may go if you would like, unless you'd rather have some of this cheesecake with me before the night is over."

The galdor stared at his feet for a moment in silence, then looked up hoping that the passive had decided to stay. His eyes, however, saw nobody except the miraan on his shoulder. The servant had slipped out without making any noise. What have they done to him?

Neth stared at the letter from Laurentius' mother. The passive had left it on the table, and Neth took it into his hands before quickly breaking the seal and reading it. Maybe if he had just persuaded his nephew to let him read the letter, he would have stayed?



"Laurentius,

It shouldn't take a mother so many years to write her eldest son, but as the gods have decided, it has taken me sixteen years to feel that I can speak your name again. I do not know whether it is regret or a simple confusion that I hold in my heart anymore when I think of you. I imagine your face has changed; you've grown into a man and I doubt that I would recognize you if given the chance to see you again.

It's not in my nature, nor our family's, to apologize, and I will not be doing so for doing the only thing we were able. Nonetheless, I write to you to tell you that I miss you. Your father does as well, perhaps more so. I came to the realization recently that I cannot move on without telling you, and now I hope for my sake and your father's that we can finally let you go.

Consider this an official measure to remove you of the burden of your family name; you will be stricken from our records but you must know that we missed our son.

Sincerely,
Fleur Elenne Savatier"





The galdor found himself shocked. "What have you done?" Standing up, the galdor pushed his chair over in frustration. He thought Fleur had finally come to realize she needed her son back and was eager to help but she had only used him, like the fool messenger he was. "What have you done, Fleur?! You moony bitch!"

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