Art For Art's Sake (Melody)

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The Six Kingdom's most prestigious university and the de facto cultural capital of Anaxas.

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Fionn
Posts: 298
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
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Race: Passive
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Tue May 14, 2019 3:57 pm

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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The knock on the door was rapid, a quick staccato against the wood. It drew a frown from Gus, an expression mirrored on Fionn's face from where he stood at the bookshelves searching for a reference book that the galdor wanted. He knew that the man was expecting a student visitor but that knock was too eager to be his consultation, the speed and force speaking more of panic than a strong desire to see the professor.

"Sweet Lady- Enter!" Gustav had time to bark out, even as the handle turned and a flushed, overexcited youth popped in. He was panting heavily, dragging a hand over his sweating face, ginger locks pushed out at crazed, sticky angles.

"Prof-Prof-Professor... the press... someone... with magic... d-d-don't... know..." the teenager gasped out, almost doubled over as he tried to catch his breath, wheezing.

Gus was on his feet, moving closer so that the boy wouldn't have to waste precious breath trying to project his voice.

"Easy now, lad. What about the press? Someone's done something to it with magic?" the engraver questioned, the firmness in his gruff voice something for the student to hang onto, some certainty. The boy nodded vigorously and hissed out, "Bad. Can't... stop it."

The professor gave the younger galdor a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You're all right, lad, I'll come along now. Whatever's wrong... well, I might be the only one who can stop it. You did right coming to me. Catch your breath there for a second," the man explained briskly, all business but definitely worried as well. Fionn was trying not to stare, wondering what in Vita was going on and doing his best to appear as if he was still conducting his search. In truth, he was curious about the situation at hand, wondering what could be done to a printing press - he assumed that's where the issue lay but he knew that there were other machines that could be referred to as 'press' - that warranted this level of excitement. He also wondered if Gus was really the only one who could rectify the issue, especially given that it involved magic; the professor didn't like to use magic.

There was a second to understand the implications of the engraver's statement about going with the student, realising that the man couldn't be in two places at once, before the man was beside him.

"Fionn, tell Miss Amberleigh that I have to reschedule because I have to deal with this tomfoolery and don't know how long I'll be. Make sure you dig out that book that I asked for; it's for her to look at anyway."

And with his piece said, the man turned away, ready to leave as if he hadn't just given Fionn permission to be in the company of a young woman. Alone.

"But Gus, I- How can I- Do you really trust me with a-a-a-" he stuttered out, tripping over his own tongue as he struggled to voice his thoughts, breaking off because they sounded ridiculous to him.

"With what? A young lady? You're giving her a message and handing her a book, Fionn. I think I can trust you with that. I think I can trust you with more; you're sister is a young lady too," Gustav chuckled, shaking his head and walking off. As he went out the door, he called back over his shoulder. "Chin up, lad. Don't worry so much."

The door clicked shut, leaving the blond alone in the room with some unexpected nervousness. Swallowing hard, he went back to his search, trying to reason with himself.

Niamh was a girl, he'd been around Niamh and he'd been trusted to be around her, alone. Was it because she was his sister and they didn't think that anything inappropriate would occur? That he wasn't depraved enough to do anything with his sibling. Or maybe it was because she was galdori. Having magic didn't mean that you were invulnerable, Fionn knew that. He knew that gollymancers could have their concentration upset without disastrous results and he knew that casting took time. If push came to shove, he thought it'd be easy enough to overpower a galdor if their casting could be interrupted. A lot of galdori were soft and while he'd come from the same mould, he was stronger, his endurance was higher and he was predisposed to violence. Not that he wanted to smash galdori in the face; some of them were actually all right and for everyone else, the dire repercussions just wouldn't be worth it.

It irked him though that he couldn't be trusted alone with passive women but it was apparently deemed all right for him to be around galdori women. Basically, he wasn't allowed to be alone with a woman who might not be repulsed by him simply because he didn't have a field.

Regardless of what the galdori thought, the passive knew that he wasn't going to do anything. He'd been working with Gus for a few months now and he knew that Fionn wouldn't do anything horrible to this Miss Amberleigh. He was fond of pointing out that the boy was "a good kid" and the servant often doubted the truth of that statement, he had to concede that he wasn't all bad. So no, it'd be fine, everything would be fine.

Succeeding in finding the book, he set it down on Gustav's desk before realising that there wasn't anything else that he was meant to do. In his hurry to leave, he hadn't provided him with any other tasks and he hadn't discussed what he might do following Miss Amberleigh's visit. Presumably when the student was there, he would have given the passive some task to keep him occupied but for the time being, he was idle and had legitimate reason to be. Things were tidy in the office, the passive having already cleaned it earlier that morning and so there really was nothing for him to sort.

Considering what the timepiece said, he had some time until the girl showed up and she'd no doubt want to leave as soon as she realised that there would be no meeting. Who'd want to hang around with a scrap after all? So he basically had the room to himself for the next while aside from a brief minute while the galdor girl was here. In that case...

The blond hunted out his drawing paper, the little bundle that Niamh had gotten him a bit thicker now, every inch of the used paper well filled. There were sketches upon sketches, drawings almost overlapping each other. There were also plenty of dirty marks from pencil rubbed around on his hands and the eraser, which had worn thin in some spots from repeated passes as he tried to remove incorrect lines. He'd kept everything, progress in his skills evident over the various pages, the young man evidently getting used to pencils again, experimenting with shapes and shadows. It was something that the middle Madden was quite self-conscious about, not keen for anyone to see what he saw as childish and inaccurate representations of basic shapes and everyday objects. Gus did sneak a glance every now and then, the young man tensing when he knew he was being observed but the man only made the occasional comment, complimenting some parts and making recommendations about others. Niamh was always eager to see them as well but the passive tended to keep his artwork to himself as much as possible, fiercely protective of it.

As he set out fresh paper and went to look for something to use as a model, Fionn didn't worry that anyone would see it. Gus would know what he was up to when he came back but that would be it. He didn't have to worry about anybody else copping what he was doing and sticking their nose in his business. Knowing his luck though, Niamh would put in an appearance and that'd scupper that notion.

Placing a chair by the bookshelf and his drawing materials beside it, the youth went to look through Gustav's completed whittling works, finding a depiction of a woman who he thought was meant to be Alioe. The overall form had hourglass curves, the figure tapered in at the waist and accentuated by a broad skirt. The dress had subtle lines here and there, very few really that gave the illusion of flowing material, flowing freely in the skirt and draped organically over her torso. The hair flowed too, the eyes given the impression of wavy tresses, tricked into seeing the curve and flick of locks and individual strands. If he concentrated, he could pick out the individual lines that had been notched into the wood and the way it had been shaved, the texture added to it truly spectacular. One hand partly clasped a small orb, which he thought was meant to be Osa, and the other held an unusual fan, beginning with a crescent, transitioning into a circle before transitioning back into a crescent. A fan of Benea's phases, seeming to convey its cycle. With an accessory like that, how could it not be Alior? There was only the suggestion of a face, sometimes seeming to bear the expression of wisdom, other times a sleeping countenance but largely unknowable: a goddess' face.

Fionn set the piece on the desk, sighing with admiration as he settled himself in his seat, admiring the curves and lines, the way light played across its surface, dappling it with light and shade that added such unimaginably depth to it. He wished he could make something like that, that he could be that good. That was a worthy devotion and what he was about to attempt felt almost sacrilegious by comparison. There was no way he could do that beauty and grace justice; he certainly couldn't replicate it.

You have to start somewhere...

So he set to work, at first trying to draw out the overall hourglass of the body with a hard pencil, the marks light on the paper but too artificial, too poor at conveying what was before him. He rubbed it out, trying again, trying to let his hand move more freely, to sketch rather than outlining it with care. It took a few tries for him to get something he could be happy with, the marks of his previous attempts not quite gone in spite of his erasing because they'd impressed themselves on the paper. He sketched out some of the other shapes. Oblongs and imperfect circles and wonky quadrilaterals to add in the approximate locations for arms and moons and head and hair. He began to erase little bits as he added in details and from there, it seemed to go to hell for him. Things ended up out of proportion, shading too flat or dark in appearance. He huffed out a frustrated breath at even the small bit he'd filled out, displeased by how badly it was going. He hadn't expected to be very good at this but-

The knock on the door gave them an unpleasant surprise, the passive having allowed himself to get lost in the process, so utterly absorbed that he'd forgotten that he was actually meant to be waiting for something. His drawing materials were dumped unceremoniously beside the chair as he hopped to his feet with a breathless call of "Come in!"

Fionn was in motion, moving to the desk to retrieve the book that he was meant to give to Melody. "Miss... Amberleigh?" he hazarded, running a hand through dishevelled blond hair and inadvertently leaving a smudge of pencil lead on his forehead. "Gus- Professor Keyes offers his apologies but he had an urgent matter to attend to and he's afraid that he'll have to schedule another meeting with you."

The boy had always liked to read. He'd read a lot before he came to Brunnhold and he'd had a chance to read again since he'd become Gus' assistant. The young man had also spent a fair bit of time around galdori since then, listening in on their conversations. It... sounded as if it was creeping into his speech. He was suddenly very conscious of it and it was definitely why the colour crept into his cheeks.

The passive turned the tome over in his hands, clearing his throat awkwardly, glance flicking upwards before skittering away. He spotted the sketch on the floor by the bookshelves, all too visible from where he was standing. "He wanted you to have this," he added, shuffling a little to the side, less than subtle in his attempt to block the drawing from view before thrusting the book out in front of him.

"Uh... here you are then."

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Melody
Posts: 38
Joined: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:55 am
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Race: Galdor
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Fri May 17, 2019 3:48 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office, Brunnhold
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If she was honest, and Melody usually was, she'd admit that the fiddling with her bag was nervousness. Not that this was blatantly obvious from her appearance, or her mannerisms. Yet the faint metallic taste in her mouth was a tangible token of her anxiety about her upcoming appointment with Professor Gustav Keyes. She had no one to blame for this but herself, she had asked for this, reasoning to herself that the sooner in the semester she got to talk to both Professor Keyes and Professor Levesque, the sooner she'd have an idea of the kind of art she wanted to focus on next. Yet, it was always a little stressful meeting new professors.. The implicit authority of their role could so easily make things hard for a student..

Chin up. You are not a 1st year any more. Just pretend he's one of mother's colleagues. Funnily enough, the advice to herself helped. Feeling much more natural, she adjusted her grasp on her sketchbook, walked to Professor Keye's office door, and knocked.

"Come in!" A voice too young to have been the professor's called out. Perhaps another student? Melody opened the door to see the room empty except for a young man perhaps her own age, in the typical Brunnhold's servant garb. Even as she walked in and let the door close behind her, he was turning from the desk, a book in his hands. He seemed even more nervous than she had been, what was he so nervous about anyway? She noticed the hair, dirty blonde and messed up from running his hand through them, and the pencil smudge on his forehead, even as he raced through an explanation for Professor Keye's absence. He then coloured up, his pale skin making it very much obvious.

Melody usually didn't meddle in other people's business, but this servant was acting a little suspiciously. Did he have permission to stay in the office? He must have since he had been instructed to pass on the professor's message.. Curiosity joined the vague suspicions in her head and so when the passive thrust the book at her, she took it with a small smile, "Thank you." She ignored the implied expectation that she leave now, and peered closer at the sculpture on the desk instead.

"Oh..." It seemed to be a woman's figure, every line of which flowed with an economy that was grace. "That is.. art. Did Professor Keyes make that?" There was awe in her voice, and she moved as if she couldn't help but get close enough to examine it properly. "Can I see that? Would anyone mind? She turned midway to address the passive where he stood, and so noticed the chair by the bookshelf and the papers on the floor... That was strange, why that one bit of mess in an otherwise orderly room? But then a flash of intuition, and she put together the smudge of graphite on the youth's forehead, and his earlier nervousness...

"Ah! So you were doing a still life study!" That explained what had seemed so suspicious earlier! He must be shy about his work. "You must be training to be an apprentice.." She waved her sketchbook a little in greeting again, a broader smile on her face in response to having identified a fellow art lover. It didn't occur to her to wonder that a passive servant might not be permitted to dream of art.
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Fionn
Posts: 298
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
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Race: Passive
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Thu May 23, 2019 3:49 am

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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When she took the book and gave her thanks, the young man's brown eyes found her face for a moment. He didn't have a field but he was just as liable to project his emotions in a way that could be read by others. So when his gaze rose, the hopeful look was quite clear from the expectancy in his wide eyes to the set of his mouth with the barest turn up at the corners. However, her response wasn't as expected, the student choosing to stay exactly where she was instead of making a move to escape as soon as possible. There was something quite worrisome here; his nervousness increased. To his horror, she peered around him, interested in the artwork that had been left on the desk. That was definitely trouble for him. If she was taking the time to notice that in spite of a passive being present then she was liable to look around herself more.

Perhaps Fionn should have expected it. Galdori either showed some distaste or discomfort around passives or they ignored their kind's scraps entirely. Oh yes, there were the rare few who showed some sympathy but many of them felt pity for them in an abstract way, not truly empathising because that would mean that they could identify with a passive on some level. The closest most came was thanking the Lady that they hadn't been so cursed. In truth though, he was basically a non-person, a servant who was hardly worth acknowledging so really it was as if she was in Keyes' office alone. Of course, without the weight of the man's potentially judgemental gaze, it made sense that her curiosity would have a freer reign. He should have thought of that, should have realised that she was more likely to nose around when she had the opportunity.

It was funny, even after all these years, the middle Madden still managed to forget that he wasn't a proper person.

He took a step away from her, away from the desk to give her a better look but also in a vain attempt to escape the orbit of her field. If he could avoid it, he didn't like to be around the mona like that, especially as there was something unique about each aura that meant that he became strangely intimate with a stranger whether he wanted to or not. It must be worse for a galdor of course because they could discern so much more but he didn't think of that, simply of his own discomfort, his own aversion and honestly, envy.

He was out of her path, not out of her range though, standing there fidgeting slightly, uncomfortable. Perhaps there was too much on view, both in the room as a whole and in his own person, far too much left bare and vulnerable for the galdor to peruse at her leisure. It was probably why he had to bite the tip of his tongue so that he wouldn't make a flippant remark about how the whittled wood was obviously art.

Civil tongue, Fionn, keep it together. She can't stay here forever, she'll get bored in a second, he told himself, praying that he could just be a dull passive for once. He needed to avoid challenging her, capturing her interest whether it was positive or not. Just be the way passives were meant to be without any of the bitterness and anger and sass and all that typically got the young man into trouble. He just needed to be respectful and dull.

"It's the Professor's work, yes. He keeps a few completed pieces here," he explained softly, gazing at the floor with interest. If he looked closely at the grain in the boards then he could imagine that there were different pictures there; it was a calming and grounding activity. "I'm sure the Professor would be happy for you to look at it. It's meant to be looked at after all."

She's look at Keyes' work, it'd keep her occupied and then he could take the opportunity to tidy away-

His gaze shot up to her face, eyes open wide, swallowing reflexively and finding it difficult as his throat seemed to constrict in his sudden panic, mouth seeming to dry up in mere moments. Shoulders hunching forward slightly, the young man unconsciously trying to make himself smaller as he realised that she'd discovered what he was up to and seemed almost gleeful at the discovery. Was she gleeful because she'd worked out something about him, put together the pieces of some mystery that she had been puzzling over or was she delighted to have caught a passive trying to be like a real galdor? The servant's mind filled with excuses, disjointed, practically stuttered within his head and sure to come out in a series of tongue-tied syllables should he attempt to voice them, face reddening.

But then she came out with something so ridiculous that his panic and fear stilled and he simply stared while incredulity moulded his features. The derisive snort came out before he could even think about it, fear melting away as anger burned its way to the surface.

"Are you fu- clocking joking?" Fionn snapped, having enough wherewithal not to fling a more vulgar word at the young woman. Her broad - seemingly genuine - smile irked him. As if they were the same. As if there were no differences between them here. Galdor privilege! "You can see my uniform, can't you? Do you think it's funny? I know I can never do anything with any of this but you don't have to rub it in," he spat, moving to gather up his sketches, to hide his pitiful attempts from view, to cradle pages to his chest so she wouldn't see. He succeeded in scattering pencils instead, the drawing implements spinning and whizzing in different directions courtesy of his shaking, fumbling fingers.

"Sweet Lady!"

She was probably going to call him out for his tone, to snap at him or threaten to tell those who could get him punished for his insubordination. Fionn would like to say that he didn't care and in truth, he didn't, not about what she might say now at any rate. For him, the damage had already been done, her happily thrown words cutting deep. The mix of misery- and anger-induced tears that came to his eyes attested to that.

"I'm passive! You know I am. I know I'm going to be a servant for life, you don't have to- I'm a person too, you know! I'm not that different from you just because I can't do magic," Fionn rattled off, feeling that each word was liable to get him into trouble but unable to stop himself. For all intents and purposes, he was galdor. He was and his tear-laden voice carried that conviction.

They weren't as different as society would like them to believe.
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Melody
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Joined: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:55 am
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Sat May 25, 2019 12:41 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office, Brunnhold
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Melody had expected mortification, even some defensiveness on the part of the young man at being found out when he so much wanted to keep his efforts private. Yet, her mind belatedly registered that the emotions radiating from the passive edged more towards terror. It should have given her pause,and if she had been paying stricter attention to the 'person' in the room, she'd have reined in her next comment. But the passive was a stranger, and the lack of a field meant she didn't pick up any subconscious emotional context till she began addressing him directly.

She had some vague, misguided idea of letting him know she wasn't a threat, after all, she knew how it was to practice and practice but not be happy with the results. And thus, "Are you training to be an apprentice?"

It almost felt as if she had let drop an explosive in the suddenly small confines of the professor's rooms. The passive in front of her might as well have been a scrying surface, the reverberations in his emotions and thoughts plainly expressed on his features, and the movements of his body and then, his words. Melody could do nothing but remain as a witness to the devastation her thoughtless comment had wrought.

A passive. At Brunnhold. How had she forgotten what that meant, her parents and later Justen had explained the prevailing attitudes of the Anaxi galdor towards their unfortunate kin. She had heard, but she hadn't understood what those attitudes would translate into. She had thought it just meant that any passives she saw would be servants, which was bad enough. Truthfully it wasn't that she had forgotten, rather she hadn't given it as much thought as she should have. It wasn't as if she had expected to have to interact much with them beyond their role as servants. She understood that servants were critically important to a well run household, and any sensible lady of the house took into account the well being of the servants as a matter of course. Of course the class distinctions were always observed. But at Brunnhold, the responsibility for the well being of servants rested with the university staff, and the headmistress, and so she had not given the specifics of the 'Anaxi passive situation' much thought.

"- - I know I can never do anything with any of this - -" The words were angry, and no one raised in Anaxas would have been surprised had she chosen to take offence at the tone. Yet something squeezed in her heart at those words, she flinched a little, finding herself subtly leaning on the desk for support. It was like the involuntary flinch one would experience at the approach of needle near their eyes. As the body shies away when anticipating pain, so does the mind. Why did it hurt? Was it the injustice of the accusation? But no.. Was it pity? Did pity hurt?

Back when she had been a student at Thul'Ka, it had been a philosophical question she had privately grappled with. Circlism taught that galdor were the preferred people of the ten Gods. Then how could they allow a child born to otherwise 'good' galdori to be passive? Truthfully, no galdor could be expected to make their peace with the idea that their child might turn out to be incapable of magic. For a people that prided themselves on being the magical and intellectual custodians of the world, this incapability.. was like the worst amputation. No matter if so many of them grew up to work in entitirely secular fields.. What was a galdor without access to magic? To accept the substantial pruning of their beloved children's 'potential', this was what the galdori as a group couldn't stomach. It was easier to believe that the passive must have been cursed by the gods for something they did in a past life. God's will. And that's why the separation, and the lingering unease. The passives were galdori children who had been sent away.. It was never going ro be a comfortable relationship between their peoples..

Yet the average imbali had aspirations.. She knew of writers, lawyers, traders and master artisans of imbali origin. She vaguely understood that there must be aspets of their lives that she, as a galdor would never understand. Yet, if you had to forego the awe-inspiring connection with the mona, and keeping Gods and curses out of it, an imbali's wasn't an unsupportable life. You could still turn your sights on other things, aspire to be part of something else, that though lesser, was still worthy.

The belief that whatever your circumstances by birth, you had choices and at least a small measure of freedom to pursue them, was something that may never have been verbalised by her, even in her thoughts, but it formed one of the core supports of Melody's personality. The passive's words in their own way were as a stone thrown into still waters.

Pity? No, it was the recognition that what she took for granted, the freedom to have a goal, a dream, was itself a privilege. And the realisation itself was pain, something that everything in her rebelled at having to accept. And it was something to think about, and unpack, but for later.

The now ought to belong to mending what she had helped break today. Only how to do that? Her fingers twitched with the need to help the young man gather up his supplies, but she doubted he'd want her touching any of those particular pieces. She was getting to understand the tiniest bit of what art meant to him, to want to get good at these skills even without the hope of being able to do anything with it.. She wanted to know more..

Melody looked down at the blond head a few feet away, the pencils scattered, the young man's emotions clearly too overwhelming. He began to speak again, his voice now had the tight teary quality she associated with feeling helplessly, furiously upset and being helpless to do anything about it, an extremely vulnerable state of mind.

"I'm passive! You know I am. I know I'm going to be a servant for life, you don't have to- I'm a person too, you know! I'm not that different from you just because I can't do magic,"

Melody couldn't keep herself away anymore. This was a time for 'feeling' and not thinking. Here was someone who hurt, someone she was responsible for hurting. Especially in the absence of someone else she could trust to do better than her, she could no more have kept away than she could have grown wings.

"Hush..." Cool, pale fingers wrapped themselves around the trembling fumbling fingers of the boy who knelt on the floor. "Breathe.. It'll be better.." She continued to kneel across from him on the floor, waiting till she judged he was a shade calmer. "What is you name?" a puff of air escaped her lips, "I can't really apologise properly if I don't even know your name.."

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Fionn
Posts: 298
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 31
Race: Passive
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Thu May 30, 2019 6:45 pm

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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There was a reason that many of those he'd encountered over the years had thought that he was stupid, while others had taken him to be moony. His behaviour was the sort that had often gotten him into trouble, the passive servant almost seeming to go out of his way to rouse trouble and provoke his superiors. Didn't other passives know to keep their heads down? Didn't they know better? Didn't he?

Of course he knew better but his temper had always been the sort that he could rarely reel in before he crossed some boundary. For him, it was all too easy to cross a line when he shot his mouth off and the young man had plenty of frustrations to fuel it. In some ways, the middle Madden was far more frustrated than he'd been before, given glimpses of a life he could have, of what he could have been if he hadn't been cursed with magical incapability. If Fionn had been a real galdor well... what opportunities wouldn't have been opened to him? As it was, there were plenty of things that he'd thought he'd wanted before or suspected he wanted and had now had confirmed.

It turned out that there were far too many things that were tantalisingly close and so many of them that didn't need to be out of his grasp at all; a lack of magic didn't make them impossible, just his society. Frustrated or not, the youthful blond had managed to keep his cool around most of the galdori he had to deal with, especially Gus. The only galdor who had fallen foul of his temper was Niamh and it was simply because she was an easy target; he always regretted it, usually instantaneously. So this outburst was unusual, born of pressures that had reached a critical point rather unexpectedly and it meant that Melody was getting the brunt of his feelings.

Still, he had to admit that there was something gratifying in seeing her cringe back, clearly wanting to put some distance between them. The passive wasn't sure if she was scared, shocked or merely felt guilty. Her field seemed to carry confusion as if Melody wasn't entirely sure how she was feeling. Still, his words had had an impact, clearly affecting her although it wasn't clear whether she was likely to snap back against him or not. Gollies didn't tend to like being snapped at or being challenged so waspishly. They also didn't like to be embarrassed. The fact that there could be nasty backlash wasn't likely to still his tongue though.

Fionn was hurting and he was pissed.

He wanted to hurt but not in the usual way. The blond wasn't trying to physically hurt, wasn't ready to thump the girl in the face or the like. He wasn't flinging insults, which was his next favourite form of venting his anger. It was more subtle, a form of guilting. In truth, the young man just wanted to be recognised as a person. He had the same sorts of emotion, he wasn't emotionally immature and he was just as liable to be affected by unthinking, insensitive words.

Stupid bitch. How could she think that he- How could anyone mistakenly forget that a passive had nothing? And yet, it was just the sort of luxury that a galdor could afford, wasn't it? Forget something inconvenient like a passive existing, having rights or not having them. It must be so nice just to be able to forget about a race of people existing beyond being present around you on a daily basis and taking care of everything you needed whether you saw them or not. Of course a golly would forget; they could forget.

Still, when he'd pointed out that he was a person too, that there were plenty of things that they had in common, he hadn't expected her to treat him accordingly. If she'd decided to help him pick up his scattered pencils, Fionn would have been surprised but to have her kneel down and take his hands in hers was wholly unexpected.

Fumbling fingers stilled, frozen within her soft grasp, the middle Madden keenly aware of how soft her hands were, how smooth the skin was in comparison to the roughness of his own, especially in the places where he'd worked up callouses. It wasn't a gesture that he was very familiar with and he also wasn't used to women touching him. It was the sort of thing that made his face warm, blood almost boiling beneath the skin, broadcasting something other than frustration, anger or upset. His pulse picked up and he swallowed uncomfortably. Brown gaze darted to her face and away, shifting quickly from place to place in the room as he sought some escape route.

When her question came, kind and seemingly good-natured, Fionn had recalled how to breathe normally instead of having his respiration hitch and catch every other moment. He'd also gathered the presence of mind to know that he couldn't maintain this sort of contact. Some part of his brain suggested that if he was caught in this position that he'd be blamed, punished even despite the innocence of it. Fear was a strange thing.

The boy moved slowly to extricate himself from her grasp, to move back so that he was sitting on his feet, ready to move if he had to do so. Once his hands were free, he could rub them over his face, through his hair, pick up and fiddle restlessly with one of the pencils.

"Y-y-you shouldn't d-d-do that. If someone came in, they'd- I'd pr-pr-probably-" the young man broke off, chewing his lip as he glanced around. "It wouldn't look g-g-good for me and it's... it's weird. Gollies don't- You don't- It's not done. The t-t-touching... thing," he stuttered out.

There couldn't be this many kind gollies, so many tolerant ones. There couldn't be so many that actually wanted to treat them like people. True, Fionn had only come across a few but one was more than he'd ever have expected. Gollies didn't feel sorry for passives, didn't care about them. It just... it wasn't done! He hadn't expected another one and it was throwing him off kilter as was the touch. Women really were distracting and discombobulating.

"It's... it's Fionn. Why do you care? I mean... why do you want to... apologise? Why bother?" he asked softly, staring fixedly at the floor while all sorts of troubles twisted across his features.
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Melody
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Sat Jun 01, 2019 2:56 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office, Brunnhold
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Melody's build, pale skin, and the reddish brown of her hair marked her as of primarily Anaxi heritage at a glance. An Anaxi heritage with perhaps some mixing a few generation back to explain the pale gold threaded through her hair, or any slight deviations from the norm, but definitely Anaxi. Yet she had grown up in Mugroba, had been raised in that country's traditions, and was legally a Mugrobi citizen. No one actually asked though. People just assumed. They assumed her a foreigner when she was a fresh entrant to Thul'Ka, and it made her an outsider from day one. She no longer even felt upset about it, it was just how people, which included her, were. It made sense to make certain assumptions based on certain inputs, you couldn't wait to cross check everything after all..

This today was one of the first few times she was experiencing the reverse of that old situation. She certainly was a foreigner here, but her features meant she was assumed to be a native. But she didn't think or act like a native and that probably meant she'd be an outsider again.. The realisation that this was likely the crux of the misunderstanding with the passive here hit her soon after the young man's fumbling scattered his pencils everywhere...

It had maybe played a part in her subconscious decision to reach out to him, the young man wasn't being intentionally mean, ascribing a callousness to her she hoped to Hulali she would never display. He was just assuming her to be what her face told him she was. An Anaxi galdor, choosing to ignore or insult a gated passive's situation.

The young man froze as soon as she caught his hands in hers, which she supposed was a definite improvement... Thoughts, she had noticed, tended to build up momentum the longer they were left unchecked; much like a cascade of water, the higher the height from which it fell, the worse the impact would be. Personal experience had told her that thoughts sometimes needed an outside stimulus to either shudder to a stop, or to help change their directions. The young man's thoughts must have changed directions too, for when he spoke next (and that took not a mere few moments), his voice no longer held that bite of tears.

His hands were similarly sized to hers, yet more rugged. She noticed calluses and half healed scarring on the knuckles that perhaps came from brawling with fists. That evidence of physical violence didn't really shock her, Justen had indulged in unarmed combat sparring almost all his school years despite it being considered a slightly barbaric hobby for a galdor. Of course it wasn't likely to be a hobby for this boy was it? She didn't get the impression the passives of Brunnhold would be allowed to learn to fight as a hobby.. So.. either he needed to learn to defend himself, or he was the one to dish out the punishments.. Clearly the passives weren't living a nice, peaceful existence as folks liked to believe..

It still didn't occur to her to wonder if she should be scared for herself. Nothing in her life had prepared her for instincts that could imagine someone else using physical strength against herself. She had been vaguely left out in the younger classes when she hadn't been deemed pretty enough or Mugrobi enough, or maybe sheep enough for the ringleaders of her class to bother with her; and she knew that boys, even galdori boys, liked to push around others as part of their ritualistic jostling for position. But it wouldn't occur to her that a galdori woman could be attacked just as much as a passive boy... It just wasn't done. They lived in.. civilized times after all.

And so she was able meet the brown eyes that darted to hers with near perfect equanimity, absently wondering what the young man was thinking now that had him looking so flushed.. Surely he wasn't still angry, was he? She asked him for his name then, coz he still hadn't said a word, and it was uncomfortable to talk around the lack of that information. Usually she'd have just introduced herself and the other person would typically introduce themselves in turn, a simple exchange of courtesies. But her name the young man already knew, so even though it felt a little awkward to her, she just baldly ended up asking for his.

She didn't resist when he extricated his hands from hers, and scooted backwards. His stammered explanation of why she shouldn't have done that, taken his hands in hers, was a somewhat mortifying surprise though, she hadn't even considered that aspect of things in this situation. An answering flush of embarrassed colour swept through her face, leaving her cheeks faintly warm, and herself scrabbling back in disguised haste. She brought herself under control quickly though, it wasn't like she or the boy had anything to feel guilty about, though perhaps it was prudent to not have the Anaxi tolerance for such tested. The young man likely had the better knowledge about how it'd impact him. And it would be ironic if trying to mend matters she got him in even worse trouble.

"It's... it's Fionn. Why do you care? I mean... why do you want to... apologise? Why bother?"

She stood up then, with eyebrows raised somewhat quizzically, head tilted to the side as she considered the young man, Fionn. She seated herself on one of the chairs near the desk and wordlessly gestured at Fionn to take a seat himself. Once he did so she began, "Well.. it's what you are supposed to do.. If you did something wrong isn't it expected to apologise at the very least?" She gestured at the sculpture's direction, dark blue gaze still fixed on the blond's face. "In my own defence, I didn't mean to sound.. condescending? Oblivious? About the art.." She tried out the words with a slightly questioning tilt, as if working out which one fit the situation best. Absent-mindedly brushing hair away from her face, she considered how best to explain.

"It isn't forbidden for passives to.. have professions where I come from.." She looked down in some consternation, "I know that sounds like an excuse, but I just wanted to.. encourage you?" She looked back up tentatively, unsure if the explanation was the right track to take after all. "I know it takes forever to start being good at sketches.. and I'm sorry.. for not thinking.. and.."

And what exactly? Did she imagine knowing that there were places he wouldn't be bound by the restrictions at Brunnhold would help him in his situation? She stopped in fresh dismay. This was why it was hard to talk to people. How in the world did Justen manage to say the right things most of the time?

She took a deep breath and began again, hands tightly tangled together, her dismay evident in her voice. "I.. I did it again didn't I? I think it'll be safer overall to stop talking. I'm sorry for my own clumsiness and.. I'm sorry the Gods dealt you a bad set of cards.." Almost under her breath she continued.. "It's nearly criminal what they do here.." She was no longer looking at Fionn, her gaze directed downwards, shoulders somewhat slumped, a frown marring her forehead and unease stamped across every inch of her as she contemplated the situation anew.
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Fionn
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 10:44 am

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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His insinuation about how this would look - stuttered and unclear though it had been - had obviously gotten through, the surprise in her features clear. He couldn't help but see the way she scooted back as a gesture of contempt and disgust. Of course she wanted to put distance between them because imagine having anyone think that a galdor and a passive might- Obviously, he was no galdor in anyone's eyes in spite of his birth so such a pairing would be vile. Plenty of galdori reeled away from a passive's touch as if they were unclean so it made sense that Melody would react the same. For all her seeming friendliness and familiarity, it didn't mean that she wasn't still racist. Niamh was racist, even if she didn't seem to realise. It was the same. Galdori could be kind to you and still be hypocrites; they certainly weren't as perfect as they seemed to think they were.

Still, he had to suppress a shudder himself, the mere idea of how wrongly that innocent touch could have been misconstrued if someone had walked in. Oh they might take Melody's explanation but that didn't mean that he still wouldn't suffer in private for it. But if they'd been interrupted and she'd chosen to lie... No, it really didn't bear thinking about.

He was slow to rise, waiting until she'd already done so before he got cautiously to his feet, stretching slightly like a feline preparing to spring into action. It was the way she gazed at him, regarding him like a tricky puzzle that she hadn't quite worked out how to solve yet. It made him nervous. Fionn wasn't going to bolt of course but he did hope that he'd be aware enough to avoid any more... touchy feely type gestures.

The galdor indicated that he should sit down and the servant regarded her through narrowed eyes before giving a minute but curt nod, perching himself on the edge of the seat he'd occupied while drawing. He let his knees part, allowing clasped hands to hang down between them while one leg began to jig up and down. His agitation was self-evident but the young man couldn't quell it so he decided to let his leg continue its jittering.

A sigh issued from between the blond's lips at her "explanation", finding that condescending because she'd clearly taken him as stupid. Just because he was a passive didn't mean that he'd been raised without manners; Fionn just didn't always apply that knowledge. He knew why people apologised, he just didn't understand why she was bothering to apologise to him specifically because he was passive.

His expression wasn't quite deadpan, something about his initially fixed stare highlighting that he thought she was talking chroveshit before he gave a minute shake of his head. He let his gaze drift away from her, disinterested as he anticipated her talking down to him, even though she might not mean to do so. She could have the very best of intentions but that didn't mean that she wasn't treating him like a small ignorant child or a human or something. But hey, her words hadn't been ill-meant so it was all fine, right? Fionn was ready to let his mind wander away, anticipating a whole slew of excuses for her insensitivity until she mentioned passives where she was from.

The blond stared. He continued to stare as he found himself unable to believe that he'd heard Melody correctly. Passives weren't forbidden to- Where in Alioe's name was she from? What place treated passives like people? It couldn't be Anaxas. He tried to rack his memory, reaching back years to some of the lessons that he'd received in his youth about other kingdoms. Had they ever talked about passives? He didn't think so but they'd been something of a dirty subject in the Madden house; he imagined that it had become a greater taboo since his gating.

"Passives can- Passives aren't-"

He couldn't get his thoughts in order. The leg had stopped its jumping, frozen from his shock and the edgy posture dissolved as the young man collapsed back into the seat. The chair rocked back on its hind legs, bumping lightly against the shelves behind him; he hardly noticed. Clasped hands loosened and dangled down, one on each side.

Brows tugged together tightly, the wrinkles on his forehead multiplying alarmingly as he made a conspicuous effort to gather his thoughts. "You have no idea," he muttered in an offhand, almost dreamy fashion to her last comment, barely registering what she was saying.

"Are you saying... that you come from a place where passives- where I'd be treated like a person? Like... a person who can have an actual job that they... choose? That... that they let us learn?" he gasped out, aware that his breathing was beginning to hitch again, distress taking root as he tried to grapple with this revelation.

Was she honestly saying that he'd been fucked over even more by not only being born as the wrong sort of galdor but in the wrong fucking place? So if he'd been born elsewhere, he might have had a chance to do all the things he'd wanted - without the magic of course - but he would have had all these years to learn as he wished and maybe even had opinions and asked questions without gaining all the scars he had. Circle save him, was there a place where he might even have been protected from the sort of abuses he'd suffered?

Fionn was suddenly acutely aware of just how many things in Keyes' office were breakable and just how much he wanted to smash something.

One hand knotted itself into the blond strands, close enough to his skull and tight enough that it really, really hurt while the other found his thigh, fingers clamping hard into his leg. His grip was strong and only grew stronger, the young man whimpering from the pain of it as individual hairs pulled free of his scalp and the flesh beneath his hand screamed and throbbed and burned.

He was going to keep his temper.

He wasn't going to damage anything in the office.

He wasn't going to fuck things up for himself when he'd finally gotten something reasonable for himself.

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

Breath huffed out as he weathered his own self-inflicted pain, using it to centre and ground himself or bloody well trying to do just that.

Brown eyes fixed on Melody's face, a unique agony flooding his gaze as he stared. The knowledge she'd just alluded to had caused pain to blossom deep within him, not entirely foreign to him. There were many times that he'd suffered from the unfairness of it all but he'd gotten good at channeling it into other avenues. Usually he made other people suffer because of it or he took it out on inanimate objects. But this was more than usual and he wasn't letting it out. He was trying to bottle it but it had to go somewhere, especially as he'd been doing so much bottling lately.

Something in him broke. It was a deceptively soft break, something giving quite gently within him. The tense grip of both hands relaxed and with a gasp, he tried to fold in on himself, trying to make himself smaller as he began to sob. Deep, choking sobs that made him feel sick all while a wordless keening issued from him, choked and spluttered but certainly far too loud for the situation. He was like a child bawling without any awareness of the world around him.
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Melody
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Wed Jun 12, 2019 1:43 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office
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There was something about Fionn's expression that told Melody that for all that she was trying, she wasn't quite getting through.. Her Mugrobi classmates would have shrugged and asked what exactly she expected from an imbala, for all that they looked galdori, they were cursed. They were feckless people, perhaps even soulless, prone to lying for no good reason, and likely thought everyone lied just for the joy of it. An anaxi would have explained that they weren't really very intelligent, much like young children, so she shouldn't expect much complexity of thought. Yet, and yet.

Perhaps she really wasn't a true Mugrobi, but a mongrel like they said. Of course that had hurt. But she didn't see how a race could be liars by nature in one kingdom but not in another, children who needed looking after in one kingdom, but adult enough to earn their living and care for their families in another? At least Mugroba and Anaxas both agreed that it was certainly best to be a galdori, and diableries could be dangerous, but wasn't that just stating the obvious? And so. Even if it hadn't felt enough at the time, her response to those long ago taunts still held true, she'd still rather be a mongrel dog than dumb, easily led sheep.

Perhaps the passive thought she was lying, perhaps he didn't trust her, perhaps he didn't want explanations either? It didn't really matter, she needed to make the effort for her own peace of mind, driven by her personal sense of what rightness felt like. All this swirled through her like paint through water, colouring her resolve so that she kept going with the explanation even if Fionn didn't seem receptive.

...passives have professions where I come from..

It was such a basic fact of life to Melody, that it took a few moments for her to realise it wasn't likely to make someone denied that freedom feel better about their situation. Her explanation, she realised with a niggle of dismay, may have been a selfish choice to make. The dismay intensified further as she registered Fionn's stillness and expression of sudden concentration..

"Passives can- Passives aren't-"

Yes.. She had put her foot in it again. It was as much momentum as anything that had her continue on. Brows drawn together, Fionn was apparently attempting to make sense of this revelation. It made sense that they'd keep the status of the imbali from the passives here..

"Are you saying... that you come from a place where passives- where I'd be treated like a person? Like... a person who can have an actual job that they... choose? That... that they let us learn?"

If not criminal, it was certainly immoral what they were doing here. Eyes wide, she nodded to Fionn in confirmation, this wasn't the time to quibble about whether people who were believed to be soulless were even persons.. She noted the rapidity of Fionn's breathing, the tension in the way he held himself, the wildness welling in his eyes with mounting concern.

She leaned forward in her chair, "Fionn?" Her voice sounded unnaturally loud, but she wasn't sure the passive had actually heard her. Her alarm spiked as the boy proceeded to start pulling at his hair. She could see that his other hand was gripping hard enough to hurt too. Hulali save him, the boy would end up ripping out his hair at this rate... She wasn't equipped to handle something like this! Something very much like panic bloomed inside, even as she felt pinned by the agony in Fionn's gaze.

"Fionn.. pe'a.. you are worrying me..." But the young man was already folding over into his chair. Deep sobs that edged ever closer to suppressed, yet still loud keening, filled the room.

"Damn!" Melody jumped up from the chair and hurried over, her hands hovered uselessly in the air before she turned away with a sharp sudden movement, suddenly remembering Fionn's warning. What was she supposed to do now? Panic now ran rampant through her veins, held rigorously in check through sheer will. Action, her body demanded action. Should she uhh.. shake Fionn? She tried addressing him a few times, asking, then ordering, finally pleading with him to just get a grip.. If he would only focus on his breathing, it'd help she was sure. But the young man seemed to be too lost in his own private misery to pay her any mind.

Melody's mother Heather, was a perfectionist who insisted Melody speak in pure Estuan, without the smattering of Mugrobi phrases that every other child naturally sprinkled their speech with. It was one more thing that had marked the girl as different, but she had complied. However the more stressful things got, the more Mugrobi Melody spoke, and things were pretty stressful indeed at this moment. By now she had judged Fionn to be in no condition to pay attention or to worry about what anyone would make of the sound of muffled keening coming from Professor Keye's rooms.. Pacing with quick steps in a route that had one end at the chair Fionn was curled up in, Melody let another layer of her always present reserve go, and began talking out loud in a mix that was more Mugrobi than Estuan,

"Now what.. I just seem to make things get worse and worse today... Hulali I apologise for my idiocy, would have been nice if you'd asked the Lady of Wisdom to grant me some tact too.." A swish of the skirts as she reached the doors. She wrenched the door with a slight force and stepped out, letting the door swing halfway closed. There was absolutely no one around that she could ask for help. And what kind of help did Fionn need anyway? He wasn't hurt like that.. "Where is a professor when one is needed?" She wished she could just run away, but that, that would make it difficult for her to meet her own eyes in the mirror's reflection come morning. She clenched her fists, till her short but shaped nails left deep indents on her palms, "Let's just breathe. Breathe in.. and out... That's it.." She squared her shoulders and spoke on in a low voice, "Right. There's no one else. And I am not running away either." My fault, my responsibility, not all of it, but some, for today that was a debt enough that needed fulfilling.

It hadn't been even a minute since she had left the room, but now she listened with a different objective. The sound of the sobbing wasn't very loud but anyone entering the corridor would know something was amiss. What was in Fionn's interests? Would someone who encountered him help or harm? The terror that the passive had displayed when he had thought himself found sketching would say there was a very low chance of anyone in authority being helpful.

"Then let's give him time to process this." It must have been such a shock to know that being locked into being a servant wasn't the lot of passives everywhere. She walked back in and asked the mona for help, Perceptive or Clairvoyant focus weren't really her focus, but Quantitaive was, and that was built upon foundations of those two disciplines. She didn't know why the mona had turned their backs on Fionn, or why the Circle had decreed he must be born as a passive, but surely, surely it was a good use of magic to help another in distress..

She took a deep breath and let the syllables for Quiet flow from her lips. She could feel the spell take effect, but perhaps the mona wasn't completely convinced of the cause? In any case she knew the spell would only hold for little more than a handful of minutes before it frayed apart again. No one outside the room should be able to hear anything untoward for now.

"Fionn, I'm making sure you.. no one gets curious about the... uh.. sound of crying.." She spoke, trying to keep her voice low and calm, hoping that the tone would register, even if not the words.. Also it felt a little rude to just go about casting when the passive wasn't likely to have even the faintest idea of what she was attempting, for all he knew she could be putting some kind of compulsion on him.. "I don't think you'd want Professor Keyes, or someone else.. to see you here like this.. I wouldn't."

The spell would fray soon though.. she could stand guard outside but.. she tapped a foot absently on the floor, a hand on her waist, eyes upon the still curled up boy. It didn't seem okay to just abandon someone? Perhaps she could attempt a ward to give some warning? Would the mona approve? She had always been quietly confident and comfortable in her relationship with the mona, they were more her friends than her peers had ever been.. She'd trust the mona and herself and try the ward. Decision made, she nodded firmly to herself, then spoke to Fionn, the same easy warm tone as before, " I'll be back in a minute, I'm going to cast a warning Ward outside.. Just.. Take your time.. I'll be back soon.." What inane advice really. Perhaps it was a good thing he wasn't really listening. She sounded a right idiot. Oh well.

It was a good thing the office was at the end of the corridor, she only had to ward the one end. Walking over quickly, she began to mentally define a rectangular area about three feet deep right at the entry of the corridor. Quantitative clauses would need to define the dimension equations, and that whole bit would act as the trigger for the clairvoyant warning ward that would require a low level upkeep from her to stay active. If everything went well, anyone entering this three feet deep section of the corridor would cause a sympathetic vibration in a narrow band around her left wrist. That was the spot she'd decided was the most comfortable for such warnings. The vibrations could be somewhat startling after all. Mentally she composed herself, running through the invocation and the clauses in sequence, looking for any unclear definition. Once satisfied, she gathered her field around herself and calling upon the mona for aid, spoke the long clauses of the constructed spell. For a moment she felt vaguely dizzy as the mona rushed around her, and then she smiled. It had all worked perfectly, beautifully. She gave her thanks as always and returned with a light step to Fionn's side.

"All right.. that's done..." Waiting helplessly was perhaps the hardest thing to do in any situation.. Was she just supposed to wait? What if there really was a need for medical intervention? Melody had had no experience with younger children, but she had heard the cook chatting with her helpers over the break. Apparently younger kids and even adults sometimes could get hysterical after a shock, their bodies and minds not knowing how to snap out of it on their own. The cook had said she just splashed a glass of water in the face if nothing else was working, but she had heard a slap could be used as well, as could a tight hug.. Well. The young man had had a shock, that was true enough, but throwing water in the face? Slapping? Oh no. She couldn't do that! And the passive had practically skittered away in terror at a mere clasp of hands. A hug was out of the question, especially given that he wasn't exactly a young child.. There was that Maintenance SpellMaintenance spells affect the ability of the target to maintain mental stability when faced with changing conditions. This can be used to augment this natural ability or hinder it. Generally, it is used positively; a maintenance spell will allow the target to process exciting or traumatic information or parse rapidly changing inner or outer conditions. It is used to calm targets down - or, sometimes, to agitate them to the point of mental breakdown. she could attempt as a last resort.. but hopefully it wouldn't come to that?

She chewed her lips indecisively, and her eyes fell on the covered jug of water kept on a side table, perhaps for the professor. She poured a glass of water and brought it back, then shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, she decided to make one more attempt at reaching the boy. "Fionn, here.. you should drink some water..." She nudged one of his hands lightly with the glass. Then decided to be a little more brave and lightly shook his shoulder.
Last edited by Melody on Tue Jun 18, 2019 1:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Fionn
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Mon Jun 17, 2019 11:01 am

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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The despair and distress that the young man sank into was such that you could have moved a full orchestra into the room with him and possibly every duellist in Brunnhold screaming Monite and it wouldn't have gotten through to him. The sound of his own name certainly worked some magic on him, the personal appellation a spell in its own right, something recognisable in the midst of it all while everything else was background noise, far away and indistinct. It wasn't even an irritating buzz, just far away and difficult to register. If he could focus on it then he'd probably be able to understand the words but he couldn't make himself focus. He couldn't make sense of anything beyond his name and that only brought him a little closer to the surface; he was still drowning.

His name had given him some shallow awareness of his surroundings, a tether to a reality outside of his own inner agony and turmoil. He had a vague notion of Melody moving around in a tizzy, more aware of her when she came close in her pacing. Awareness came like the tide, noise and focus increasing as she drew near and receding as she moved away. Like the tide, her own anxiety washed over him when she came close, her field charged with it, an uncomfortable buzz on the senses. When she was beside him, it was truly inescapable, doing as much to bring him to the surface as a slap or a shake might have done. It was just so there and it was bloody alien to him. Every other time his misery had burst out like this - which wasn't often - there hadn't been galdori present. They hadn't been there with their stupid buzzy fields.

Moore and Devlin were right in saying that passives had something around them, this nexus thing. It wasn't a nothing but it wasn't a field, wasn't like this. He was used to nexi though, he'd spent years around them. They worked subtly on the senses, even now that he was fully aware of their existence. A nexus was something on the edge, like a sound just out of hearing but felt. You knew it was there. A field by contrast screamed at you, it shoved its way into your senses, demanding that you notice it. A nexi was definitely preferable from Fionn's perspective but a field was enough of a shock to the system that it wore him down, bringing him slowly back to himself. Whether it was better to be out of it but drowning in the depths of his misery or aware and stuck with painful reality wasn't yet clear.

The servant had enough awareness when she neared him and tried to get him to focus on his breathing. For a moment, he felt like he was going to choke, the awareness of his own breathing which his body had been controlling perfectly fine on its own just moments ago suddenly felt impossible for him to manage consciously.

How did he breathe? How was he meant to get the air in?

There was a lump in his throat, everything felt too thick and as he tried to inhale, he was all too aware that he felt breathless. Where was the air?

Fionn gasped in, puffing out again far too fast so he could draw in more air. He tried to follow her words, to use them to pace himself even though doing so felt like it might leave him choking. In spite of the panic, he managed to steer his breathing back to some semblance of normality even around the smothering effect of his own tears. But before he was back to breathing entirely normally, Melody was gone. Unexpectedly, her disappearance made his respiration accelerate.

Why did it matter whether she was here or not? He'd only just met her after all and hadn't had a desire to meet her in the first place. But she was something solid and she'd been kind and while that had thrown him before, he had a strange need for it now. He didn't want her to leave him. He didn't want to be left alone. He opened his mouth to try to call after her but it turned into a croaking whimper instead.

She wasn't running away though. She'd said she wasn't running away, she wasn't leaving him. Everyone always left after they broke him, leaving him to try to put himself back together. How often was he meant to do it? Surely there was only so much you could do to keep the pieces together and making things function when they wanted to fall apart was also difficult. He didn't want to do it again. He didn't want to left alone.

The sobs renewed somewhat, bitter and a little hoarse but also full of sniffling and whimpers. His face was drenched, his hands were drenched, he was just a total mess and he didn't have the luxury of a handkerchief. It was far from dignified but he managed to undo a button on his sleeve, having enough forethought to wipe his face on the inside rather than the outside. Nose scrunched up in distaste, he continued to sniffle away, wiping at his face periodically. Fionn wasn't so disgusting that he'd blow his nose in his sleeve but he was hardly in a pleasant state. Even if he could somehow get his face completely dry, the fact that he'd been crying would be quite obvious. His face was blotchy, a mix of pink and purple blots on his skin where the salty tears had made it puffy. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and his voice was likely to have that hoarse quality to it. It was why when she commented that he wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, he managed a hiccough of laughter.

How long did she think it'd take for him to look better? Chances were that at this point, the puffiness wouldn't fully go down today, even if he scrubbed the life out of his face; too much misery had run down his features.

As more magic came from her, he cringed slightly in his seat. The Quiet spell had been felt against his senses, the uncomfortable tickle of the mona getting through to him more than her presence alone; he didn't like it. Her field moved out of range as she went to cast out in the hall but there was still a stirring in the senses, a subtle ripple in the air as some balance changed. It could have been the mona shifting outside, the levels altered in response to her casting as the required particles went to her or it could have been his imagination, born of expectation; he knew what spellcasting felt like after all and he could hear the murmur of the alien tongue that she utilised. Words that meant nothing to him, but which he could theoretically learn. The words wouldn't do any good though. Knowing Monite didn't make you physically capable of channeling the mona but that didn't mean that he didn't want the knowledge. Niamh had freaked out when he even suggested...

Melody returned, the feel of her field making him lean away, slightly repulsed but not really going very far because he was still sitting. The cringe was habit as much as anything else, her field still new enough to him that he hadn't grown accustomed to its particular monic eddies and currents as he had done with Gus and Niamh's.

Tears still ran down the tip of his nose, the young man's head bowed now and he watched duly as they plopped into his lap. They still flowed but not as intensely as before, his misery quieter now, more sullen and he sniffled. When she offered him water, he stared at it blankly, stiffening as her hand shook his shoulder. Self-consciously, he tugged at his sopping sleeve, brown eyes raising to find her face.

"Do you- Do you have a-a-a hankie or s-s-something?" he asked timidly, having to cough to clear his throat. "It's a b-b-bit late now but... might be good to bl-blow my nose," he mumbled, gaze dropping as he took the glass from her, bringing it to his lips with shaking fingers. He slurped noisily, finding it difficult to breathe and drink but finding that he was quite thirsty. His throat was actually quite dry. He wondered if he'd somehow sobbed all the moisture out.

The glass went to his lap, played with awkwardly, the blond like a child that wanted to ask for more but was too uncertain to do so. He was still thirsty but he didn't think that he could walk to where the jug with; his legs felt pretty unsteady even though he was only sitting down.

"Thank you for... for this. I'm sorry that I-I-I... well, I overreacted."

A soft curse escaped him as he turned his head and caught sight of his drawings. They were quite close to where he was sitting and on the floor but they'd also apparently fallen foul of his sobbing. It wasn't too bad, some damp blotches here and there, no doubt flicked off careless fingers as he dragged his hand across his soggy visage, and only the softer lead had run a little. It still wasn't fair.

He bit his lip though, realising that he'd sworn in front of a lady, all too aware of the faces that his sister pulled when he used that kind of language around her, even if it had been a very tame curse by his standards, not quite obscene and almost polite.

"Sorry for swearing," Fionn mumbled, chastised child as he hunched a little in his seat, acting as if he'd been told off by someone other than the imagined version of Niamh Madden in his head.
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Melody
Posts: 38
Joined: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:55 am
Topics: 6
Race: Galdor
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Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Saffron
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Wed Jun 19, 2019 2:58 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keyes' Office
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It was a good thing Fionn hadn't stayed completely unresponsive through that long long stretch that probably wasn't actually more that say fifteen minutes. He had changed position a few times, and his pattern of crying had changed over time as well. If he hadn't, well she might have considered calling in a proper adult after all. It bothered her that even in the midst of his... episode... he had flinched away from her. She supposed it wasn't surprising, he had no reason to trust or like her after all, and it may even be an instinct... Yet it had been much much worse to witness a boy near her own age cry in quite such a manner. Agony like this was meant to be private, to possibly be shared with family and friends. Had the circumstances been different, herself not bearing a part in the fiasco.. Had she come upon someone else crying like this, she'd have retreated with all haste. Yet how could she have retreated from this? It wasn't as if the passive was likely to have family here, though hopefully he'd have had some friends...

By the time she returned from warding the corridor outside, the crying had subsided, and as she came close he cringed away, again. His head remained bowed, so she couldn't really get a look at his expression, unless maybe if she sat down herself and peered at him. Bajea! She must be getting tired, that had been a silly thought! Indecision chewed at her as she looked at his still bent head, but then she noticed the jug of water sitting at a side table. Well, water was a tangible need one had after a crying jag. She brought a glass over and asked him to take a drink, but he just seemed to look a little blankly at the glass, so she ended up tentatively shaking his shoulder a little.

That seemed to finally wake him up, and he took the glass from her. Melody dragged the other chair a little closer and sat down with a sigh. Well, the crisis seemed to be over for now. He spoke then, and it was a tentative, hoarse thing, the request for a handkerchief. Melody nodded, she had one as a matter of course since a lady was expected to always carry certain things on her person, and quietly handed him the neatly folded square of cloth from her uniform pocket. He finished the water, but seemed not to know what to do with the glass, so she extended her hand for it, asking "Do you want more?" It was clear he did, and irrespective of the answer, Melody would bring the jug over and place it and the glass within reach on the desk.

She shrugged in response to his thanks, ambivalent and nearly bashful about the way she'd involved herself, now that Fionn seemed to be functioning again. Her field was almost back to its almost perfectly indectal self, marred by only subtle washes of emotion that only someone attuned to reading fields would have noticed. A sudden exhaustion made her sit down in her chair a little too quick, even as she answered Fionn. "It must have been a shock, given that you don't seem to have had any idea about Mugroba... It would have been more surprising had you taken it in your stride..."

She followed her eyes to where his drawings were on the floor. They were in a neat enough stack, but the top sheets looked a little damp. She wasn't surprised at the curse, they clearly meant a lot to the passive servant and who would want to see their work ruined in any case? She didn't care about the cursing, she would not have been shocked as such a mild one in any case. Events had seemed to move so fast ever since she had first entered the room, and her emotions had run the gamut from uncomplicated curiosity and joy at meeting someone else who seemed to like art, to guilt and feeling responsible. She felt a little blunted, as if all energy had suddenly run out of her. Fionn's blotchy face wavered for a few moments in her vision, and she smiled absently and almost dreamily at the apology, "I've heard worse..." Unexpectedly she continued on, "By rights you ought to rest with cold towels on your face.. I find it really helps keep the swelling down... but I guess that would be difficult to manage given that you probably have work assigned for the rest of the day..."

Hulali save me from myself! Melody suddenly registered what she was saying and rather abruptly sat up, face flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business.." Should she go? Should she stay? Given the way the encounter had gone till now, she was liable to make another blunder shortly, if she hadn't already messed up again... She looked about a little wildly for some neutral topic to suggest itself, but nothing suggested itself, or rather everything that did felt as if it had the potential to be insensitive or worse.

It was a bit too much honestly, this strange situation, she had never felt guilty when talking to a servant before. You did not deliberately make their work harder, and you tried to be fair, yet firm. You exercised consideration for their reduced circumstances and the constraints of class, but, and but you never felt guilty at asking them to do the work they had been hired to do. Nor did you feel responsible for their situation in life. It was a little confusing and exhausting that it didn't feel quite so simple here, and she badly needed a respite, and yet, she couldn't think of anything to say that didn't feel.. heavy with associations. That was what it must have been like for him, all the history and the minutiae of his life, everything was so starkly tied up with the fact of being a gated passive...

"So what's Professor Keyes really like?" She blurted out in some desperation.
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