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
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Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
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Race: Passive
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Sat Jun 22, 2019 6:34 pm

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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The requested handkerchief was accepted all too eagerly, the young man blowing his nose with some enthusiasm. It was only after he'd scrubbed some of the damp from his face as well that Fionn realised the state that the flimsy fabric was in; he could hardly give it back to her soiled. He scrunched it into a soggy ball, holding it awkwardly, unsure what to do with it but settled for gingerly placing it on Keyes' desk.

"Uh... thanks for that. I'll um... get it cleaned and gotten back to you?" he suggested, feeling like it was something he was meant to say but not entirely sure that it was his place. He was just a passive, who was he to put on all these airs and graces like he was a proper little scion; that was Oísin these days because Fionn was heir to nothing. He squirmed in his seat, giving a little sniffle and let his gaze flick to the water on the desk, considering.

After all his sobbing, he really was quite thirsty, an uncomfortable scratchiness that wasn't dispelled no matter how many times he swallowed; gulping felt awful as well, pained as if someone had rubbed something rough on it and made it raw. Fingers crept out and encircled the jug's handle, brown gaze flicking to her, eyeing her warily. Eyes darted from the jug to her and back again, meaning that getting a drink took far longer than it should have; it was like he expected her to snatch it away again and in truth, he didn't know what to expect from her so it seemed like it could be a possibility.

Once he had it filled, he brought it back to his lips, gulping it down and looking like he was ready to swallow the glass and all. He set it down on the desk, a sharp clink on wood that made him wince; he hadn't meant to put it down so hard. The boy mouthed an apology, hand rubbing over the back of his neck, fingers massaging taut muscles. If the situation had been initially awkward, it had grown much, much more so now.

Fionn cleared his throat, readying himself to speak and then said nothing, no words coming to his lips.

A shock.

Was that really the right word for what he'd experienced? It seemed so mundane, such an insignificant little word for the monumental effect it had had on him. It had been world shattering, tearing apart the reality he'd always known. He hadn't known about Mugroba. Admittedly, his education on the Kingdom had been sparse. His father might have been an Incumbent but he hadn't learned a great deal about other nations. There had been a lot of assumptions made in his household, mainly that there were things that could be learned later in life. Brunnhold should have helped with that education by providing him by both secular and magical classes; that plan hadn't worked out too well. Oh he'd picked up a little bit here and there about the 'darkies' as Toibin so often termed them, mainly because he liked to complain about their diplomats from time to time. Apparently, their society was to be envied and his father hadn't liked the fact that they could do some things better than Anaxas, especially as he'd also expressed some distaste that they'd managed it with their 'odd views'.

With this little nugget of information dropped in his lap, the young man wondered if their treatment of passives was the sort of oddity in outlook to which his father had referred. If they treated passives so differently, allowed them to be educated and have jobs, was that why their society did better?

Fionn didn't know what to think. It was too much and just thinking about it made him want to start crying again because it wasn't fair. What was more, it had been kept from him. It made sense that those in Brunnhold would want to keep the passives ignorant but he had allies here. Why hadn't Niamh told him? Had she kept this from him on purpose? Why would she have done such a thing?

"Maybe it was better for me not to know," the servant said aloud, answering his own question aloud, frowning. Already, it was plaguing his thoughts and he was sure that it was certain to run around his head from henceforward, ready to grate on him and potentially make him more bitter in the long run. But no matter how cruel the truth, he should have been told; Niamh should have told him.

"It's not fair, you know? I shouldn't have to live like this because I was born in the wrong place. But I can see why no one would want me to know. I don't know if any of the others have heard but..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. He didn't know how to finish that thought. Maybe some of the passives did know. Maybe that was why some of them lost the plot entirely. It was the sort of knowledge that could drive you mad he suspected.

Brown eyes were fixed sullenly in his lap, finger tracing a random pattern on his leg as she shrugged off his mild cursing.

"It's a matter of good manners. Least that's what my sister says. She... thinks it's crass, especially around ladies. Passive women don't count as that."

It was a quiet admittance, the boy letting one shoulder rise and fall. Bloodshot eyes rose, his look a dull one as she rattled on about what he should do. Rest with cold towels on his face. As if any galdor would allow a passive to just loll about worrying about making their face clean and pretty; it was laughable. However, he could only sigh rather than get angry, given that she'd already demonstrated her utter innocence in the matter. She couldn't be blamed for her rather impractical views - impractical in an Anaxi setting of course.

"I'll probably have work to do, yeah. I'm a passive, it's... what I'm here for. If my leg was hanging off then people would understand me taking time off to get treatment. I don't think having a blotchy face is cause for special treatment," he remarked dryly, running a hand through his hair, ruffling the blond strands further. At this point, he was rather rougher in his appearance than was typical for him these days, the passive rather dishevelled. Together with the blotchiness of his face, it gave him a truly boyish appearance, a childish vulnerability in his features as he gazed at Melody.

Fingers moved together aimlessly, Fionn making a soft popping sound with his mouth at her question.

"Well, he doesn't like to be called Professor Keyes. He prefers Gustav or Gus and um... he's not like the other galdori?" he offered, brows tugged together. "He doesn't look down on me or um... treat me like being passive might be catching. He's nice. Seems nice to other galdori too. Bit gruff maybe but not in a rough way, he's not... uh... what's the word? Unrefined? I don't know. I take in words sometimes but don't always... remember how to use them right. Wouldn't you just wait and see what he's like? He still treats me differently so I'm not the best source of information on him."

The blond cocked his head towards the door.

"Do you mean to wait for him to come back?"

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Melody
Posts: 38
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Mon Jul 01, 2019 1:03 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office
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Fionn looked utterly exhausted, not that it was anything to wonder at. Melody responded appropriately at the proper times. Much of what he spoke seemed to not even be directed at her. And it wasn't as if she disagreed with him, a child denied the expected and much anticipated connection with the mona was bad enough. The ill luck of having being born a passive in Anaxas resulted in a much harsher fall from grace than for an imbala born in an arata household. And of course the children born to the imbali grew up already knowing their place in the world, they knew what opportunities were open to them and how to make use of those. And perhaps most importantly they weren't denied the comfort of family.

She shook her head when he mentioned swearing as being crass... Women were expected to show grace and prudence and refinement, perhaps so they'd seem desirable in the marriage mart. A light grimace soured her face before she registered the import of Fionn's words struck her. "A sister? Your sister visits you here?" Perhaps Anaxi families weren't quite as uncaring as she had assumed. Perhaps they were as much prisoners of circumstance as the passives were..

The dry humour inherent in the comment about splotchy faces not being enough cause for special treatment elicited a slight chuckle from her, it wasn't other people who did the coddling, it was you yourself who attempted some degree of damage control. Advertising that you were hurt by something was usually just asking for more of it. Fionn's face at that moment was perhaps the most open that she'd seen yet, who knew that vulnerability mixed with a self-deprecating humour could look so real. She smiled more fully at him, dark blue eyes crinkling at the corners, even as her head dipped a little in a tentative camaraderie. Meeting Fionn hadn't started all that well, and it had gotten much worse afterwards but perhaps it need not end badly? That bubble of hope was perhaps the reason she did not want to let silence descend again. Perhaps if they could keep talking, (without any more disasters please Hulali), perhaps she would feel better by the time it was time to leave.

Finding something to talk about was hard though, and in the end all she could come up with was asking about professor Keyes. She did make a note of Fionn's impression of the galdor he worked closest with. Fionn asked her if she wouldn't want to wait and see what he was like and she shrugged a shoulder in response. A finger absently traced the edge of the desk, before gently touching the base of the sculpture on the table. "What you say about him is at the very minimum a data point. Him being able to create art that touches one's soul is another... It matters how people treat those who they need not be nice to. And it's good that he treats you well.. as well as he can..." She paused for a second, bringing her hand back and interlacing her fingers tightly. She did not want another confrontation and her field shrunk, perhaps anticipating yet another lashing out from Fionn. Curses be... Why was it so hard to let things go, why did she keep digging herself deeper into such situations? She took a breath and continued "This is perhaps my naivety speaking, but I don't think we can treat everyone the same to be honest. We are creatures of emotion, moulded by how we grew up.. I don't think I would treat you the same as I would treat the passive who comes to collect our laundry.. And I don't think you can treat me the same as you treat the professor.. Gus I mean. Or as you treat your sister." She made herself stop then, and looked away. Fionn had talked about Professor Keyes, but why did it feel like an indictment of herself as well? Of course she treated people differently, people treated a servant different from a superior, a friend different from a brother, a lover different from a competitor... Even if it was naive, she needed to believe that it was natural and all right to do. Coz she didn't think she had it in herself to be perfectly fair to everyone. Even with her fumbling, she tried to do the best she could, what else could she do? Her field tightened even more around her, even as it shifted to blue, her tiredness and self-doubt leaching into it before she remembered that Fionn had also asked her a question.

She looked back at him and attempted a smile, "It'd make sense to stay if you think the odds are good that he'd be back shortly.. Will you mind? If I stay on, I mean. I'll just.." She looked about and then patted her sketchbook, "I'll just sketch quietly.. I have spare paper if you want to continue what you were doing.." She tentatively offered, glancing at the stack of his sketches on the floor. "We should put those on the desk at least.."

She was about to stand up, perhaps to help but another wave of dizziness stopped her. It was the upkeep for the warding, she realised. She hadn't realised it, what with a good part of her attention on the conversation with Fionn, but the warding spell must have been running for over thirty minutes by now. No wonder she was feeling woozy and dizzy. She really hoped Fionn wouldn't ask her to leave, she wasn't sure she could stand up right then without listing. Though it ought to be okay now to let the warding go?

She was preparing to do just that when the sympathetic band around her wrist squeezed and began vibrating its alarm. Too late. "Someone's coming." She announced somewhat baldly, and let the spell fray apart, thanking the mona for its cooperation and patience. "Do you think it's the Professor?" Whoever it was, they were likely headed here, and she belatedly spared some attention for herself, brushing away at stray dust marks, and neatening the material she had kept on the desk.
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Fionn
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Mon Jul 08, 2019 11:06 am

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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There was a sense that the girl was simply listening, following along passively as he spoke his mind. She didn't seem to really be thinking about what he was saying, not properly engaging with the topics that Fionn chose to speak about. He wasn't unaware of it; it was difficult to miss when someone didn't have their mind on your words. She was galdor but that didn't mean much really; he was used to people not listening to what he had to say and that included his passive peers and once upon a time had included the family's human servants. The fact that he wasn't being told to shut up was enough for him really, the simple opportunity to voice his opinions satisfaction enough for the young man. A sympathetic ear would be too much to ask for and far more than Fionn would ever have expected. In truth, the servant wouldn't know what to do with sympathy, it wasn't a coin to which he was accustomed to trade in.

However, the mention of Niamh seemed to work magic, Melody coming to herself as if she'd gotten an electric shock. The reference had slipped out of his mouth by mistake, thoughtless. Now that the student showed so much interest, the blond found his cheeks warming. He cleared his throat awkwardly, utterly unable to hide his emotion. It was the fact that she'd picked it out and drawn attention to it, leaving him strangely embarrassed. It wasn't shameful or embarrassing to have a sister and yet the boy blushed.

It was the way Melody had said it. As if a passive having a sister who came for visits beggared belief. Well... he supposed that it probably did sound ridiculous and unbelievable. But surely passives in Mugroba had family? Was it so unexpected for them or was it surprising for here? She hadn't been able to judge other things about the Anaxi treatment and attitude towards passives so why would she make such an - admittedly correct - assumption now?

"Yes, she visits me here. She found me... by chance a few months ago. In Dentis," he admitted softly, fingers rubbing the back of his neck, knotting loosely in the hair at the back of his neck. Although he'd mentioned her, the young man felt that he didn't want to discuss Niamh. His relationship with his sister was none of the girl's business and in all honesty, she was only interested because she deemed it unusual. It'd be just like a golly to make it about another golly, their abnegation and charity for choosing to associate with passives. It wasn't like that though but why should it be about her anyway? Fionn was here, wasn't he? Couldn't he be a person in his own right without having to have people attached to him?

The servant managed to keep all of his complaints and arguments inside although it was an effort - a visible one. His expression was one of discontent, mouth so puckered that deep dents took root in its corners and brows crowding together. His mouth twitched and twisted, teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek at one point as he did his best not to fight with the girl. Instead, the boy gave her silence, which was probably quite uncomfortable for her.

Why didn't she just go away? Why couldn't she just leave him alone? She was here to see Gus but he wasn't here, could be back in a minute or an hour. At present, she lingered, seemingly without any real reason from what Fionn could tell. If she was staying because of him, it was more likely to be out of curiosity than any desire to be.... well, his friend, he supposed that was probably what she was aiming for. Was she naive enough to think that that would just happen or did she suspect him of being so eager to have friends, especially a galdor one that he would be grateful and clamour for her attention? An unlikely event, surely.

It was clear by his attitude that the subject of his sister wasn't one on which he wished to linger and it was evidently a struggle for her to find something to talk about with him, seeking commonality or perhaps just seeking a topic that wouldn't cause offence or prompt an outburst from the blond.

Speaking about Gus wasn't entirely a safe topic if that's what she was looking for, at least not when it came to how he treated Fionn. Oh the professor certainly wasn't bad to him, not compared with some galdori he'd encountered but he could certainly treat him better. The way Harper Moore treated him or Niamh. Castor Devlin was definitely gruffer, something that himself and Gus had in common but he had treated him a little better, seeming to realise that he was an intelligent being. When it came to Professor Keyes, he wasn't entirely certain that the man remembered his name. He spent his time infantilising him by calling him 'lad', whereas everyone else got a first name or a title and family name. He was just 'lad', always 'lad'. He wasn't a clocking child; he was almost 19.

The boy leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back, hands clenching into fists and then unfurling while he listened to her talk about treating differently. No one treated everyone in the exact same manner, that was obvious. Everyone was different and there could be people that you liked, people that you hated, someone whose company you preferred when discussing a particular subject or carrying out a particular activity. That wasn't what he was getting at when he talked about how he was treated although what she had just said sounded like the kind of rhetoric that could be used to justify treating someone as inferior.

Could he hold his tongue any longer? Was he being disproportionately bitter now? She was trying, wasn't she? This was her trying, sweet and innocent and clueless galdor that she was, too sheltered to understand and she wasn't Anaxi; she didn't know Anaxi ways. For Alioe's sake, she'd thought that he could be Gustav's apprentice, which was the greatest indication of ignorance he could imagine. But while the young man was angry and his temper was always difficult to keep in check, surprisingly he found that he was more disgusted by her attitude than anything else. How could she not hear the implications her own statements had?

He managed a shrug to indicate that he had no idea when Gus would be back, his own face stony as she smiled at him, wobbly and fragile. The passive wasn't feeling too kind towards her right now, not too accommodating. And so her comment about sketching rubbed him up the wrong way, simply because he was in that kind of humour.

How charitable of her! Here's some paper, why don't you sketch quietly like a good boy? She glanced at his stack of sketches, seeming ready to put her hands on them and move them to safety like she was a mother picking up after a child. He moved swiftly, swooping down to snatch them up, holding them to his chest protectively. She wasn't touching his stuff, she didn't have the right.

Her dizzy spell went unnoticed, the young man flushed, too worked up and self-centred to see her distress. His mouth was moving seemingly of its own accord, his inner thoughts spilling out without his volition.

"I don't think what you said is naive. I think it's dangerous," he commented quietly, brown eyes hard as he stared, gaze fixed on her face. "I just want to be treated like a person, not like... a bomb at worst or a child at best. No, not just a child, a really slow child. I'm not stupid and I don't need people to be patronising a-a-and con- condescending," Fionn hissed out, swallowing hard, the protuberance in his throat bobbing up and down in a way that appeared to pain him.

"I don't know when Gus will be back but I'm perfectly capable of occupying myself. I don't need someone to tell me what to do. I have my own thoughts and desires and if I want to sit and just think well... then... I can just sit and think! And you're a free person! You can do whatever you clocking like!" the boy finished in a rush, moving away to stash his drawing stuff, doing it to spite himself as much as to spite her.

The irony of his own childishness in that moment was utterly lost on him.

However, the moment that she mentioned that someone was coming, his demeanour altered. A tremor went through him before he straightened, glancing briefly over his clothing to ensure that he didn't look too messy. A hand came up in an attempt to flatten his dishevelled hair, wincing as the heel of his hand brushed against the puffy skin of his face. He could tidy his face up as much as he wanted but he couldn't hide the fact that he'd been trying, except by actually hiding of course.

"Maybe."

The word was fired out but it wasn't malicious, an air of distracted worry about the boy as he turned to the shelves and began straightening and rearranging items on them with his back to the door. The middle Madden chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek, a nervous sigh escaping him as he recognised the familiar tramping gait of his master. The door was all but thrown open, the man huffing as he crossed the threshold and brought the recognisable field into Fionn's sense range.

"Miss Amberleigh! I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you'd- Well, never mind! Forgive me for leaving you waiting," the man exclaimed, hand on the portal which he kept open, apparently indecisive about whether to close it or not. "Are you willing to stick around now that you're here or do you have somewhere else to be? We can rearrange if it suits."

He swung the door, catching it after it had gone a few inches, fingers drumming on the wood. He froze, eyes narrowing as they alighted on the wood carving on his desk.

"What's that doing there?" Gus asked, pointing at it. "Why's that piece on the desk, lad? Did you put it there? And leave those shelves alone, would you? Be useful and sort out some tea, won't you?" the professor barked, eyes finding Fionn's back. The blond could swear that he felt the man's gaze.

"Yes, I put it there, si- Gus," he responded, almost slipping into deference out of habit; he was anticipating trouble. "It's there to be drawn."

He licked his lips as he turned, balling his hands at his sides so that he wouldn't drag nervous fingers through his hair en route to the tea things.

"To be draw- Clocking hell, lad! - Pardon my Tek, miss - What in Alioe's name have you been doing? Have you been crying? What in Vita..."

His gaze flicked between the passive and the female galdor.
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Melody
Posts: 38
Joined: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:55 am
Topics: 6
Race: Galdor
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Sat Jul 13, 2019 11:11 am

9 of Intas, 2719
Prfessor Keye's Office
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It was truly amazing how often things she had thought utterly innocuous turned out to be sensitive, or offensive to Fionn. The discontent in his expression after he admitted to his sister visiting him at Brunnhold was telling, he did not want to talk about her, and did not appreciate being asked about her either. Melody shrugged mentally, fair enough, but he had been the one to mention her. Did he think she wasn't listening or something? The utter ridiculousness of her advice about what one needed to do for splotchy faces drew from him something that might have been dry humour. It had been enough to surprise a chuckle out of her at the notion of a gated passive being coddled by the galdori overseers.

She had known it was a bad idea to let herself answer the thought about being treated differently. Either she should not have begun, or since she had, she should have explained all of what she meant, and asked the passive if he meant something different. Fionn pulled back though, fists bunching, and.. like a coward, Melody stopped that line of conversation. She was tired. Conversation between two people could be a path you both walked together, and the path could be comfortable in its familiarity. The terrain Melody travelled over was unfamiliar territory, and her companion had no interest in acting as a guide. She was tired of trying to judge the firmness of the ground, tired of unentangling herself from thorny bushes and from having to walk uphill, and all that without one single positive word from her reluctant companion.

Was she surprised? Not so much at Fionn, but at herself, yes. She, who rarely inserted herself in conversations, kept making an effort, however graceless. It may have begun as an indirect apology for calling him an apprentice, but she could have left after apologising. Why stay on? Was it pity? Did she on some level want to show Fionn that not all galdori were bad? Did she think of being a friend? Uncomfortable questions, but the posing of them allowed her to fumble in some small way towards better self-knowledge. She knew she had had no thought of being his friend. The difference in the status, power and privilege of the two young people in the room was too vast to be easily bridged, even if they both wanted that to happen. She could only vaguely and mostly intellectually imagine the plight of the gated passives of Brunnhold, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do to counter the status quo. Except condemn it in her heart, and perhaps rebel against it the only way she could this time, by not leaving. Fionn would almost certainly not understand why she'd stayed, but that had been her form of protesting.

She must be a glutton for punishment though, she shook her head mentally in bemused wonder, for instead of taking the opportunity to leave that Fionn had provided, she asked if she could stay on. But she didn't feel up to more conversation, if that was indeed what it had been. She'd just quietly sketch and wait for the professor. That made her recall that her arrival had interrupted Fionn's sketching practice, so perhaps they'd both do well to do something they found worth doing in their free time?

The dizzy spell came and went, and she focused on her surroundings once again to see Fionn glaring at her from a few feets away, the bundle of sketches held protectively against his chest. Now what. She just had time for that resigned thought, before Fionn began speaking.

Dangerous? What was he talking about? Her forehead wrinkled in some confusion, eyes taking in his hard brown gaze, even as she tried to recall whether she had said anything dangerous. Her eyes widened subtly as Fionn continued, spewing out words that seemed to be an attack on her. And worse they didn't make sense. It was unfair, and it was unfortunate, but diableries did make passives much like unexploded bombs. Except bombs nowadays typically had a lot more range than most documented diableries did. On the other hand, bombs were not sentient and didn't resent their nature. Bombs also didn't make other people want to forget their danger. And bombs typically came with well-understood conditions under which they would explode.

And was he accusing her of being condescending, of treating him like a child?! If she had had any doubt about the focus of his vitriolic words, they were blown away by the rest of his rant. Colour leeched from her skin, momentarily leaving it the ash white of bone. It was a shock, even if a comparatively minor one, to have been thus attacked with no cause. Almost without her volition, Melody's tight hold on her field slipped, the mona unfurling to take up their accustomed volume of space once again. One more moment passed with no other display of emotion from Melody, and then feeling returned, and with it thought.

There was a flash of hurt which drowned in outrage, her field flexing strongly in response to the strength of her emotions. Melody's gaze as it rested on the passive was stormy, her spine stiff, her breathing a little too fast. She felt hot, the unfairness of the accusations made her want to scream out her frustration, and she pressed her lips tightly together, as if physically stopping herself from responding in the heat of the moment. The heat of anger receded almost as suddenly, leaving her field heavy with disappointment and an icy outrage. Slowly her expression smoothened, but her fists were still clenched tight, a visible sign that she hadn't regained her accustomed neutrality.

"You wish to be treated like a person?" The question was almost gentle in tone. "Mister.. Fionn," She paused slightly at the lack of a provided family-name, then continued, her voice gaining ice with every phrase. "As Hulali is my witness, I have been treating you like a person. I've apologised to you when I've felt myself to be in the wrong, I've listened to you with politeness and attention, I've tried to ease your distress. I've respected your wanting to learn art, and I've considered this office to be your workplace and myself the visitor, I've clocking asked permission to stay." She took a quick breath, "That is exactly what I'd have done for any new galdori acquaintance."

"You, however, have been hostile, defensive, and ready to verbally snap off my head at every perceived slight." Very carefully, she stood up, not wanting to display any hint of weakness. "I understand you are stuck in a horrible situation, but," A momentary twist of contempt marked her features, "from where I stand, you are the racist. I cannot rightly understand what you face, but I've been willing to talk to you and learn. I'm not sure if you have the emotional maturity to see past your own world. Or frankly the desire." She paused for a second, and visibly tried to regain control. "I am not the architect of your woes, nor am I your punching bag."

Melody turned away decisively, every inch the young lady. and seated herself. She'd wanted to leave, but her legs shook, and she felt nauseous from the strong emotions of the last few minutes. And there was something wrong with her, what with the dizzy spells... As if on cue her vision greyed out for a second. She wouldn't give this rude young man the satisfaction of watching her crumple in the middle of stalking out of the room. She wanted a drink of water but the one glass she had seen would need rinsing first. Her eyes prickled, truly she had been foolish, this was why they said the stork shouldn't try to understand a fish's world.

Oh, the warding. Now it made sense, this had been the longest she had kept the upkeep for a warding spell going. Well, it should be ok to let the warding go now. Just then the band around her wrist tightened and began vibrating. "Someone's coming." She announced baldly, still not looking at the young man. She let the spell fray apart, the sound of approaching footsteps was audible now, "Could it be the professor?" She said almost to herself, and began neatening her materials on the desk.

Melody stood up at the professor's entrance. He was huffing, as if he'd walked fast to get here. She dredged up a smile as he noticed her and apologised for leaving her waiting. "I'm glad to have waited sir. I don't need to be anywhere else." Truthfully she wished she had not waited, for any reason, but given that she was here, they may as well have the consultation. She'd like to have something positive result from the day's work.

The man noticed the sculpture on the desk then, and started firing questions at Fionn. He sounded rushed, her presence had probably thrown off his expectations, since the directions and questions he had were all over the place. The sculpture, leave the shelves, sort out tea. Despite herself, she flinched minutely, this wouldn't go well with Fionn, especially in today's mood. Well, why should she care? It wasn't any of her business. Like he said, he wasn't a child to need her interference.

Fionn's reply was uncharacteristically nervous, though perhaps this was his default attitude towards other galdori? She was trying to squelch the unwilling sympathy she felt, (by Huali she was an idiot), when the professor asked if he had been crying. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, of course he'd notice. Hadn't they both discussed just this some time back... She drew in her field, bracing herself for some kind of interrogation. A passive and a galdori in the room, the passive had been crying, the galdori was giving off icy vibes.. It didn't look good. The professor may very well think she had been bullying the young man. She snorted internally at the very idea. And then she remembered Fionn's stuttered explanation of how it wouldn't look good to be found in close proximity, and she stilled. She needed to maintain a rigid control over her field, she couldn't afford to have any emotions leak there that would make it difficult to explain anything. She stayed quiet. She had put her foot in her mouth too often today to risk talking now.
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Fionn
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Wed Jul 17, 2019 12:24 pm

Intas 9, 2719 | Late Morning
Professor Keyes' Office
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It had always been an easy thing for the passive to shoot his mouth off, to unleash any thought that happened to enter his mind at the time. He didn't have to be angry or rude in order to get himself in trouble, the things that his superiors counted as 'cheeky' or 'insubordinate' often beyond the young man's comprehension. He'd often gotten a clout to the ear for daring to ask a question that came from a place of genuine curiosity, certainly not meant to be offensive or in an attempt to take a subtle dig at anyone. The blond had long since grown to resent the inevitable backlash that always seemed to come when he opened his mouth. So did Melody's anger surprise him? No, not in the least. In this case, he'd have expected it; challenging a galdor's views weren't likely to go well for anyone in his position. However, this time, he was irritated by the stance she took, frustrated with himself as much as anything because he hadn't been able to articulate himself properly.

How in Alioe's clocking name could the middle Madden speak appropriately on any topic that had some depth to it? He didn't have her advantages, he didn't have her education and damnit all, he hadn't ever really been allowed to open his mouth because every bloody thing that came out of was wrong. How could he be expected to know about anything outside his own confined little world? Did she not realise that being treated like a person meant more than one individual or a small collection of people interacting with you in a particular fashion? Why couldn't he get the thoughts whirling around in his head to cross his lips the right way?

Maybe if Gus hadn't entered, he could have taken some breaths to calm himself, feeling his way forward with care before he tried this again. He could have shown her some of his scars, allowed her to see what it was really like to be used as a punching bag and what it was like when society didn't treat you like a person. Let her look at him, really look and see if she thought that his defensiveness and hostility was unwarranted; let her see the lessons that had been etched into his skin, admittedly by his own kind rather than hers, but condoned by the galdori.

But the professor did enter and as soon as the man was within range, that familiar Gus-tinged presence was all too recognisable although it did nothing to lessen his distress and panic. The interruption certainly didn't do anything to diminish that whirling chaos of anger and frustration that lived within him. Keeping his mouth shut had always been difficult but right now, it was uniquely torturous and felt as hopeless as trying to keep the tide at bay with a fork.

Fionn wished that he could physically sew his lips shut because he didn't think that he could keep them shut of their own accord. They were going to trip him up as he'd end up spilling far, far more than he intended.

Stupidly, he'd left a tea tray off to one side in the room and had succeeded in forgetting about it. If he'd had sense then he would have trotted off downstairs with it earlier after Gus had used it or while the galdor was away. Instead, he'd managed to leave it there and it couldn't be more obvious to his eyes now, silently reproachful.

How could something inanimate be reproachful?

No, he'd cast that air about it himself in his shame and worry. Part of him expected his patron to spot it and snap at him for his own carelessness. Far worse though was the fact that it meant that he had to take a detour. If it hadn't been for the tea tray, he might have had a chance to nip out the door before the galdor professor had a chance to get a good look at him and realise that he'd been crying. Fionn might have had a chance to duck into a quiet spot and find something to muffle his voice while he screamed because of his impotence. Instead, he was suddenly caught, frozen under the older man's gaze as his lips threatened to spill everything.

The only reason that nothing came out immediately was because his brain didn't know whether to accuse the galdori student of upsetting him or negate the blame that might be thrust on him. As such, he was able to bite on the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, using the pain to ground himself a little, reduce him to some level of sanity. He sorted tea things and picked up the tray with care, allowing a few silent moments to stretch out while he considered things like... well, a logical person. He wasn't entirely bereft of reason, just when he got a fire in him...

The blond turned, burden balanced carefully in his hands. His face was surprisingly calm, his voice steady but the nervous rattle of the crockery gave away that he was nowhere near as nonchalant as he appeared to be. He could hear it and if he thought about it, it only seemed to make him shake more so the sound of porcelain wobbling against porcelain and metal sliding slowly around the rim of a cup was the background to his confession.

"I... admire the piece, si- Gus. So I took it out to draw. Miss Amberleigh... she came in and she startled me and I- it was a misunderstanding. It was my own stupidity," he admitted levelly, cheeks taking on a new pink hue even beneath the blotchiness. "I'm sorry. I'll be sure to wash my face when I go to get the tea, I won't be long. Sorry."

It was as much dignity as the servant could muster in that moment and by the time he'd admitted that he was the one at fault, any fiery emotion had left him. He felt deflated and vulnerable, as small as the child that he was purported to be, youthful face certainly adding to that idea. The young man made to move to the door, head bowed but before he could get there, a massive sigh issued from the engraver, chest heaving with the force of it.

"Put that tray down for a minute, would you, lad? Go clean yourself up. I can't have you going out like that. Someone might think I've been trying to beat the Lady's grace into you," he commented, fiddling uncomfortably with his watch-chain, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door to his own private little washroom.

Reaching a new level of crimson, the blond set the tray down on top of the desk and spotted the balled and sodden mess of Melody's handkerchief. He snatched it up and fled into the small room, head down as he slipped in and closed the door over, leaving it ajar. He rinsed out his mouth, getting rid of the metallic taste and then set about washing his face, quick splashes and frantic rubbing of his hands across his visage so that he could turn his attention to the handkerchief. While he worked, he couldn't help but hear the artist discussing him quietly. Apologising for his behaviour and asking the young woman if she was all right. He heard his name - his actual given name! - and the word 'damaged' in the same sentence and tried to close his ears.

He didn't want to be talked about like a victim. He was one, yes but he hadn't come to terms with himself. Hearing it aloud was too real.
User avatar
Melody
Posts: 38
Joined: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:55 am
Topics: 6
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Saffron
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Fri Aug 02, 2019 1:27 pm

9 of Intas, 2719
Professor Keye's Office
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ABBC3_OFFTOPIC
The Gus bits have been supplied by Max :)


For several long moments, the clatter of crockery was the only sound in the room, and it almost seemed as if the silence would never be broken by words. But eventually Fionn did speak, and as he spoke, Melody felt herself relax minutely. It wasn't as if she had expected Fionn to start hurling wild accusations, but she was still glad to be spared having to come up with suitable explanations. Lying outright wasn't something she had had much practice with. And truth be told, neither did she have any desire to gain that expertise. And she doubted it would be simple to recount all of what they had actually talked about. Though, it wasn't as if they had talked about something forbidden... If she had to tell the bare facts of the conversation to someone... it would probably not sound like a big deal… It was the emotional context that had weight rather than the bare words. At least it had been like that for her.

She wasn’t surprised to hear Gus, the professor, tell Fionn to clean up before leaving. The professor seemed the sort who’d hide all good impulses under the guise of gruffness, perhaps even from himself. But in spite of herself, some of Fionn’s suspicion had, perhaps temporarily, rubbed off on her. Was she assuming good intentions on his part? How did she know the professor didn’t mean exactly what his words said? Perhaps he was truly only concerned about his own image? Fionn left though, and Melody turned her attention to the professor.

“Not that I’d raise a hand to him - to any passive - I wouldn’t actually beat him,” Gus explained awkwardly, head angled downwards so that he was gazing rather dejectedly at a patch of floor. “Poor lad has been- Well, he’s endured enough and he’s not- I wouldn’t-”

He shook his head, clearing his throat with a cough before meeting her gaze at last. “I hope he didn’t do anything to upset you but Fionn can’t entirely be held accountable. He doesn’t mean it, he’s just damaged and not the most… stable. Not dangerous mind, just…” he trailed off and forced the barest twitch of a smile.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my passive servant, Miss Amberleigh.”

It was a statement, the older galdor’s gaze expectant as he waited for her to explain her purpose.

Melody held her head a little to the side as she listened to Gus (it was hard to keep reminding herself to think of him as the ‘professor’ now) explain somewhat fumblingly about Fionn’s situation. Endured enough. Damaged. Not stable. There certainly was a story there, and Melody suspected it wasn’t the kind that ended neatly on a hopeful note. But then, Fionn’s story was still being written, and there was always at least the possibility of good things in the future.

She nodded at the professor’s assertion and took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “Yes. I am in need of some guidance Professor Keyes.” This was what she had come here for, but now that she had arrived at the point, it was hard to put the ‘why’ and the ‘what’ into words. “I am in my ninth year, and I enjoy the magical conversations I have chosen to focus on. However, it's time I started thinking about what sort of a career I want… And I can’t imagine myself teaching, or being happy just wrapped up working with static conversation alone.” She was rambling, she mentally chided herself. She had taken to twirling a pencil between her fingers in the meantime, and now she carefully put it on the desk.

“I really like art Professor Keyes. I like the process of noticing things, getting inspired, and trying to capture that inspiration on paper. I like working on the techniques and getting better at it.. I like knowing that there are endless mediums that I haven’t tried my hands at… I think…” She met the older galdor’s eyes, and there was something vulnerable and hopeful in it, “I think I can imagine some kind of art-related career for myself... But I have only learnt sketching and painting until now..”

She took a deep breath, and tentatively pushed the sketchbook she had placed earlier on the desk towards the older man. “I’m sorry I’ve been rambling. I think I want to learn some kind of material based art techniques… But I don’t really know what to try next… Or how to learn it.. It seems a lot more complex to begin with than sketching ever was.” None of what she had said was a question, but she wasn’t sure what to ask for either. Should she baldly ask the professor if he’d be willing to mentor her? Why should he? Especially since she wasn’t even sure of what she wanted to do yet. And the man was surely busy already. Guidance, that was something she thought she could safely ask for at first.

The man held up a hand - pointer finger extended - which he wagged up and down. “First, none of this ‘Professor Keyes’ business. Call me ‘Gus’ or ‘Gustav’ if you really have to hold on to something formal but no professor or sir stuff,” he told her, bushy eyebrows drawing together; he seemed stern. The hand moved to stroke his chin, a soft clicking of his tongue accompanying it as he thought.

“There are a lot of careers that can use art so it’s a wise thing to consider. An eye for detail can be good but… do you have an eye for capturing essence? Are you conservative or adventurous in your style? Do you plan on using magic? They’re all things you have to consider but… you have to experiment. To do.”

The hand came out again, palm upwards this time, fingertips waggling briefly. “May I see?”

“All right Gus.” She grinned at the older galdor for a moment, “Fionn did say you insisted on being called that!” She’d just think of him as an artist first instead of a professor. Artists were notorious for disliking convention, to the point that she often wondered if that dislike had any correlation with the level of mastery in their chosen medium.

She nodded, counting off the points Gus mentioned, she had considered some of these herself. But she couldn’t judge her own work in the way someone else could. Her teachers had been happy enough with her progress, but she was no prodigy that’d have made them insist she make art her primary focus. She extended the sketchbook to the artist, nervousness blooming in her stomach once again. What if he said she was no good? What if she didn’t have any of the spark at all? What if… Enough. This nervousness was uncharacteristic, but she also believed that art was something that had almost no meaning without an audience. Even at its most solitary, the artist herself was the audience. Art was meant to speak to emotions and not the intellect. You created, while trying your best to have it communicate the feeling, and the process was like straining to put a bit of your soul into the creation. Having people view it was a curiously vulnerable feeling. And then to ask if what you created was good enough to build a career around… A part of Melody wanted to escape, and ask Gus to just write comments on the sketchbook that she could read and process in the privacy of her room.

But that wouldn’t work if she wanted to really learn from him. So she tried not to watch Gus’s expressions as he paged through the sketchbook, and instead decided to answer the points he’d mentioned earlier.

“I do want to eventually experiment with using magic as part of my process. And I’ve noticed that I find myself inspired more by nature than people’s faces.. And the organic more than the geometric.” The sketchbook she had brought along was the sort which allowed one to thread selected papers and create a portfolio from it. The subjects were simple, perhaps even simplistic. A leaf floating in a puddle, a flowering vine strangling a gate, concentric ripples on the water. Painted studies of single petals from various flowers, a pair of old boots against a brick wall, a boy running through the rain, incense and wilted flowers on an altar.. Melody suddenly felt absolutely sure she had been a fool. There was nothing of the typically grand in this, it was just a series of vignettes. Was it even art? Surely this was the kind of stuff used to teach techniques to students? Yet she had felt compelled to capture the banality of these. She had felt driven to capture the stillness as well as the motion of simple, easily overlooked things. It had been meaningful to her, even if she couldn’t explain why. Was this even the sort of art she should have been doing at near eighteen years of age? And why had she thought it was enough to think of making a career out of it? She waited, hiding her trembling hands in her lap, her field wrapped tight to her form.

The artist flicked through each page with care and spent moments dwelling on each, a finger tracing over shapes as he perused. He hummed, nodding minutely, and flicking back to one piece or another to review it again. “You favour pencil, I see and watercolour - a lady’s medium - but I see the value. You can convey much in a few seconds with watercolour, as good as sketching. You’ve tried your hand at some other mediums but… have you had any chance to use ink? Charcoal? Have you etched? I think etching would suit you; it requires precision,” he commented, passing the book back to her.

“You’re quite precise, afraid to let go. To draw freely. I’m not surprised that you find faces difficult. You need a looseness. Suggestion. Fionn has trouble with that one, I suppose… you saw his drawings. He’s very precise, needs something to draw from as well because he can’t see it in his head but he has an eye for organic lines, movement in curves. So do you. The natural world is a good fit for you. It’s something I understand. The movement, the grace…”

He nodded to himself, tapping his thumb against his lip. “You’ve developed a certain eye, choosing the quieter things. Unusual in one your age but certainly not bad.”

He turned away, picking up the carving that Fionn had left out on the desk. “I take it you’re hoping for some guidance? Tutelage? I can tell you now what you should do. Experiment and practice. There’s no easy way about it, lass. If you were hoping that I’d provide you with some formula for quick success…” Gus shrugged.

As Gus spoke, Melody was able to slowly let go of the dread that had frozen her insides for the last few minutes. It was fine, there was certainly areas of weakness but Gus did mention that her work had some strengths as well. She didn’t even disagree with his assessment of her skills. She looked at the book Fionn had handed her when she had first entered the office. It seemed to be a basic encyclopedia of the various mediums used by artists.

“Thanks Gus. I’ll do that,” she smiled and pointed at the book. “I’ll also go through this and pick something to work on…” Fionn had managed to leave the office and return with tea, and she paused to take a few sips. “I’d like to meet with you on a semi-regular basis and sort of… look my efforts over? I don’t think I can take art as a formal focus, given that I already have a near full course load, but I’ll use some of the independent studies hours to experiment in the workshops”

It took some time to iron out the details, but Melody left Gus’s office with plans and ideas in her head, and a smile on her face.
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