Bethas 39, 2719 | Afternoon
Professor Keyes' Office
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Among passives, there was an idea that being an assistant to a galdor was an easy gig. Yes, you had to work for mainly one galdor but plenty thought that it couldn't be as grueling as a long shift in the kitchens, as stressful as serving for so many impatient and demanding galdori students and faculty, or as backbreaking as a long shift in the laundries. One galdor couldn't possibly give you as much work to do and of course you didn't have a patron or a matron breathing down your neck, watching your every move. If you were attached to a galdor, there was a sense of privilege, maybe a little more freedom to those lucky few who were so trusted. It was also common for there to be some envy for what was perceived as an easier life. Fionn had been that way once. He'd detested the galdori, sure, but it had still seemed like a lesser evil than the other options available.
Strangely enough, the blond no longer viewed it as an easier option. It was still difficult, as difficult as other jobs that he'd done although the challenges it posed were different. In some ways, it was a lot worse and he imagined that it would be worse if he was working with a galdor who always treated him as nothing. Perhaps given that Gustav swung back and forth between treating him like he was inferior but also like he was a person with thoughts and feelings made the situation far worse. He could stomach being a thing or a person but oscillating between the two positions was frustrating and upsetting. It was like every time he thought he was finally getting through, finally impressing upon the man that they were somewhat on the same level, the artist came along and smacked him down again.
Today he was dehumanised, not in the same way as the 'model' who the man seemed to have realised had some qualities of a living, breathing person. No, right now he was the dog playing fetch. Sandwiches and tea, and if he was a good boy, maybe he'd be told so and maybe even get a treat. The only thing about this little errand was that he thought he could manage to scoff down some food himself; he was hungry too as it happened, not that anyone was likely to ask him if he wanted some sandwiches.
The blond moved as rapidly as he dared, keeping close to the walls in areas that he was likely to encounter galdori, heading for the small kitchen facilities in the building. He could certainly go to the main kitchens but that'd take awhile and it would be incredibly inconvenient for the galdori if they had to wait for servants to go running across campus to get what they wanted; a pot of tea was liable to be cold by the time it got to them. There was also the fact that some galdori actually liked to fix things for themselves sometimes, something of which Fionn was quite suspicious. It didn't seem right in his mind that they'd make their own tea or sandwiches or fry something for themselves; it always made him uneasy to find them in such places, certain that there was something that he was missing. He did relaxing a bit when he reached the kitchen though, quickening his pace because it was sure to be clear that he had business there. If in doubt, bustle; that frequently worked.
There were two other passives in there and a galdor was just leaving when Fionn entered, bowing his head in respectful acknowledgement while sliding out of the woman's way; she carefully avoided noticing him. It was funny how they did that, saw you but made an effort to act as if they hadn't. It triggered early memories of his childhood, how they'd sometimes encountered beggars while they were shopping in Vienda. Galdori haggard in appearance with porven fields and hopeful expressions.
Fionn could remember slowing, head turning towards the unfortunate and his mother had actually grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the top of his shoulder although her own gaze seemed to remain fixed ahead of her.
"Don't look at him."
"But Mother, he's-"
"You don't see him, Fionn, understand?"
"But he's right there!"
"Act as if he isn't!"
In hindsight, he wondered if his mother had managed to practice such behaviour during her time in Brunnhold. All the galdori seemed to be very good at not noticing passives until it was convenient, except the younger ones of course; the first forms tended to react to their presence until they knew better, either openly staring or jumping as if they expected them to bite them at any moment.
Bloody galdori. Ignoring him, treating him like an object or a child or a bloody simpleton. The last two were actually the better ways that he was treated. You didn't normally send a child or a simpleton to go off and make your bloody tea and sandwiches though!
He moved quickly, setting water to boil and measuring out tea leaves into a strainer in the pot before washing his hands. He dug bread out of the bread bin and set about slicing it, taking his time so that it would be cut evenly, not too thick and not too thin. He positioned the knife, considering the point he was going to cut, checking it from different angles and then started sawing away, slowing or even pausing to ensure that he was still cutting reasonably straight and hadn't veered off at a funny angle. He paired off the slices, taking the weirdly cut ones for himself, folding them in half and cramming them into his mouth to destroy the evidence.
It was only when he'd gotten the bread suitably moistened with butter, gliding the knife over the surface to skim off the excess, that the passive realised that Gus hadn't told him what kind of sandwiches he'd like. He thought a moment and then shrugged. Cheeses, ham and other cool meats were taken out of storage, each cut with the same care as he'd divided up the loaf and divvying up the fillings. Fionn only stopped briefly to wipe his hands so he could sort out the tea, wetting the leaves and setting the pot on a tray along with cups, saucers, some spoons and a little jar with some honey. He also added a small jug of milk in case that was something that might be wanted. Sandwiches were cut in half diagonally, arranged quickly but appealingly on a large platter and plonked on the tray. And with that, he was ready to race back with his burden.
Heading back was an easier task in some ways, the fact that he had business self-evident so he didn't have to worry about keeping a low profile and skulking about the corridors. Carrying the tray did make things more difficult though obviously, surprisingly weighty and leaving his arms trembling a little after he'd trudged his way upstairs and gotten back to Keyes' office. It was how rigid he had to keep his posture, balance kept in constant check so that he could feel the shakiness in his limbs and a dull ache in his back. It was the final straw after everything he'd been doing this morning and it was clear that all this time on his feet, lifting and pushing and pulling, and climbing up on things having taken their toll.
He turned so that his left side was to the door, pressing one side of the tray to the door frame. He lifted his right leg, bending it at the knee so that he could rest the tray on his thigh. Balancing on one leg, he used his right hand to keep the tray balanced and freed up his left hand so that he could turn the handle. Once the door was popped open, he returned both hands to the tray and used the side of his body to push the portal open, a twist at the hip and a careful reversal shutting it behind him with a click.
He took in the scene before him.
The young man hadn't been gone too long in the scheme of things, fifteen or twenty minutes at the most although he thought that he'd made good time. All the same, it didn't seem that much had changed. Gus seemed to have finally stopped looking at crafting materials - though he'd continued to mutter to himself the entire time - and had turned his attention to the various sketches instead. When the blond entered, he appeared to be holding one up for Madeleine to inspect in the midst of explaining her poise and the beauty of the lines. It was one of the charcoal ones with the feather worked over it; there was a small, carefully drawn '10' in the corner.
"Ah the tea and sandwiches! Perfect! Set them down on the desk here now, lad," the professor boomed jovially, indicating a cleared spot. The passive let out a soft sigh of relief, glad that a space had been cleared given that he'd neglected to do it before he left. He set down his tray and busied himself with the tea making, ensuring that it was brewed properly, lifting out the strainer briefly so he could stir the contents. Pouring out a little to test the colour, he filled out Gustav's teacup and made it to his preference, a process he hardly had to think about now because it was familiar.
"Tea, Miss Gosselin? How do you take it?" he questioned politely, every inch the perfect servant now. There was no point trying to talk to her beyond what was necessary; it was clear that he wasn't going to meet with her approval or her acceptance. So he'd be what he was meant to be, just for today because it was easier and he was too tired and miserable to bother doing much else. He'd make her tea as she wished and deliver it to her before bringing over the platter of sandwiches to offer them to the dancer. Pursed lips, brown gaze a bit distant until he heard Gus from behind him and almost dropped the platter in her lap.
"Fionn, lad... you haven't eaten anything, have you? There's loads of food there, why don't you take some?"
It was so unexpected, something paternal and suitably caring in his tone but most shocking of all was the use of his name. Obviously the artist knew it but he used it so infrequently that it was a surprise to hear it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, face flushing.
"Um... no thank you. I... I ate," the boy admitted almost guiltily, carrying the sandwiches back to the desk. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Hm... I'm trying to decide what material I want her to bring her to life in. I think I could turn some of these sketches into lithographs, maybe etchings as well..." the man had begun talking to him but he already seemed to be drifting off, talking more to himself once more. This was clearly something he'd been dwelling on for awhile. He was likely to wander off to his materials again to make moony eyes at them.
He moved off to pick up some pieces of roughly hewn wood which he carried over to the desk. The galdor gestured vaguely, talking about the grain and the organic lines that could be drawn out of it. While he did so, Fionn went to lean against the wall by the door, hands held together behind his back. The young man was doing his best to keep his expression neutral, something that he'd never been good at doing. He had to concentrate on looking blank so of course, he definitely wasn't impassive; he looked puzzled instead.
And then he felt it, head tilting and turning so that he was almost gazing at the wall then the door. The blond hummed, sensing a field, a third one from out in the hall. It was familiar like Gustav's, an aura that was known to him, a unique feeling that was unmistakable. There was also a nervous hum in it, something upset in the monic aura, distress. He didn't need to hear the soft knock or have the door open to reveal the face when Gus called out that she could enter.
The field was so clearly his sister's that he could identify it from the other side of the wall.
"Hello, Niamh." The greeting was soft, lips barely moving.
There was a smile in his direction, the sense of feeling shifting to something calmer, whatever was upsetting her shoved down as she turned her attention to Gus.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor Keyes," the redhead apologised demurely, gaze finding Maddie in the corner of her eye, seeing her properly as she turned her head. There was a quick inhalation, a brief rigidity and her field seemed to bristle for a moment before she licked her lips and carried on as if nothing was amiss. "I know that you're very busy but would I... be able to talk to my brother for a moment?"
"This for Moore?"
The final form nodded. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind, he'd like to see Fionn after he finishes up here today. This evening, obviously. I don't mean to- to take him away early." Her hazel gaze flickered to her brother, an apology there, her mouth twisting in something of a wince.
"Oh. Fine. Fine. Well, be quick now! I'll need him back."
She bowed her head in acknowledgement and went to step outside again, Fionn following, hand on her forearm before they were even over the threshold, likely to be seen by the lower form girl before the door was swung to behind them, ajar so that their voices could still be heard.
"What's wrong? Before you came in, your field-" his voice full of concern, the frown audible.
"Not now, Fionn. It's not- Just leave it, okay? I don't... I don't need this." she murmured back, tired, defeated.
There was a beat of silence before he asked, "Right... What do you want then?" and their voices dropped to urgent whispers. Within the office, Gus was back to examining his wood block, calloused fingers moving over the surface with a soft rubbing sound as the roughness of his hands met the roughness of the timber.