crystal; ota

[aberratic]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Ness Tavane (tadfool)
RECIPIENT: Errbody

[ the sending crystal comes on, and a feminine voice clears their throat; she is clearly entirely new to this, and perhaps to public speaking in general, but she wants to make a good impression!! ]

Hello, Riftwatch. My name is Ennaris Tavane, I'm a recent arrival to your organization. If Ennaris is a mouthful, Ness will also do! I wanted to introduce myself, and I also have a request, should anyone be willing to assist me.

I've joined the Diplomacy division [ cuz damn do y'all seem to be the most in need of bodies ] and am eager to get my feet beneath me as far as work there goes. I can read and write with proficiency, and am an excellent note taker, should those skills be of use to anyone. I... can scribe, [ said with all the enthusiasm of someone admitting to being physically capable of mucking out the stables, yes, but— ] though my real skill lies in research and compilation of disparate sources of information. I'm happy to offer my assistance to anyone who needs it while I suss out what jobs need doing and where my skills would best be applied.

As for my request, I was hoping there might be someone—or even multiple someones—who would be willing to tutor me in history. I have several gaps in my knowledge, and would prefer to fill them in as quickly as possible. Please feel free to reply back to me here, on the crystal, or to get with me privately if you're interested. We can discuss compensation, though I admit I've not got a terribly deep purse at the moment.

Erm. Thank you for your attention. Have a good day? Binder's knots, feels like I'm talking to air...

Comments

[wythersake]

Quite. Drop by any evening between — oh, ten and six, I'll be in the Infirmary, or the Acquisitions office. Or dead in a ditch, I suppose, but I'm trying this new thing called optimism. Très avant-gardiste.

[aberratic]

[ more notes, tray ahvawn'-gahrd-eestuh. spelling is almost certainly wrong, but perhaps repeating it to someone else will at least get her a language family to look to for meaning. ]

There is a philosophy that envisioning a future can help make it so; we will envision you alive in the ditch, if you must find yourself in one. Thank you for your time, Enchanter, I'll seek you out before too long.

[elegiaque]

( gwenaëlle glances behind herself at that, considering the math of a scenario that she'd never considered before: it makes sense. two half elves make a third half elf, with a quarter from each parent. and then thedas, where two elfblooded humans will have a fucking human, because that's the only damn option, )

I'm familiar with the idea of places where that's true, ( she says, after a pause, leading ness into a room on the second above-deck level, reasonably spacious, plushly carpeted. it occupies a corner, with windows in the two exterior-facing walls, casting bright daylight still across cabinets, and small desk (just a flat surface, really, no drawers to speak of), two low sofas and a table between. it almost seems more a miniature library than a study, the window-less walls lined with glass-fronted cabinets that protect the books within from being rocked out of place by the movement of the water beneath.

a gesture invites ness down to one of the sofas; she crosses to a cabinet as she speaks. )

We've known half-elves to come through the rifts and be elves in full, but I suppose there's no specific reason it shouldn't go the other way. ( self-evidently. )The elfblooded, we're— indistinguishable. Functionally human in every respect, including that of having only human children. If an elfblooded child is raised apart from their elven family, and no one knows otherwise, there's no way to discover it from the child.

( it's the sort of thing it's worth being clear about, especially because, )

Not everyone advertises it when they have the option not to.

[aberratic]

[ the urge to throw herself eagerly upon the bookshelves wars valiantly with ness' complete lack of sea legs for what amounts to a rather lengthy pause between gwenaëlle's gesture and her eventual movement. a none-too-gentle and insistent sway of the boat beneath them eventually makes the choice for her, but even as she drops onto the sofa she leans forward, peering at the cabinets to try to glean titles. ]

I could not avoid its apparence in—my previous life, [ perhaps that's the way to think of it, now, ] even had I wanted to. My ears, but my skin too, I had some of my father's drow colouring. My eyes were purple.

[ lavender, specifically, but it feels a little pretentious to drop shades when they hardly matter here.

numerous different comments bubble up—that makes no sense, it's illogical, even if it isn't evident you're still half human, not wholly—but this isn't her plane, and someone who's lived their whole life here knows the rules of it better than she.

she mourns, still. her eyes had been pretty. ]

I think I can understand why. From what I've heard of your elves, I mean. The elfblooded would be getting it from all sides.

[bouchonne]

Oh, without question.

[ And then Bastien’s voice rings in his mind, reminding him how miserable he becomes when he gets treated like a villain, and he amends: ]

Though I aim to flay only with sharp wits, rather than knives. So perhaps a touch less ruthless.

[aberratic]

I don't know about that. You can ruin a person as easily with words as you can with knives.

[bouchonne]

Mm, it takes a bit more effort, on average. And craft. And while I do like to think I can be quite dangerous, I was never able to upholster a divan with the flayed reputations I accumulated.

[aberratic]

How many of those whose reputations you flayed took drastic measures to rebuild their lives? Or gave up on their lives entirely, when it turned out they could not restore themselves to the places you pushed them out of?

Not that these are important questions, really. I'm sure, from the moral character you display being here in Riftwatch, you used your reputational-flaying powers only against the very worst of people. As I said previously, I'd be very interested to hear if the same could be said of the rest of your family.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly smiles grimly to himself. He has intimate knowledge of giving up on one’s life once one has seen disgrace. But his voice stays light. ]

Oh, I’m not claiming to not be wicked. I’m just saying I’m less efficient than traditional killers.

[aberratic]

I don't recall calling you wicked. Really, I'm not trying to be horrible, even though I think I am. Honestly, I feel like I'm just trying to say the cleverest things I can think of because I'm so nervous, I want to seem smart. Is it working?

[bouchonne]

It is.

[ His droll voice is, for a moment, unquestionably honest. ]

You seem very smart to me.

[aberratic]

Well, that's something. And I really would like to hear about your family's experiences during the occupation, I wasn't being a bitch. If nothing else I need to prepare myself for the possible realities of war, you know. Never been in a position of this much danger before.

[bouchonne]

What did you do before coming here?

[aberratic]

I lived with my father, he was a scribe. We were pretty well isolated from all of this, but that was how he wanted it.

[bouchonne]

And you…read? Studied?

[aberratic]

Not a lot else to do as the daughter of a scribe, is there? He made sure I learned my letters and was as well-read as I could be.

[bouchonne]

I see. With the intention that you’d become a scribe as well?

[aberratic]

I don't think there was any intention to it, really. He was just supposed to teach me, so he did.

[bouchonne]

Really? I think most parents think about legacy.

[aberratic]

If the thought ever concerned Vazeiros, he never mentioned it to me. Parents teach their children to read, if they can. He could, so he did.

[bouchonne]

And where was this all happening, again…?

[aberratic]

The place I'm from that you wouldn't have heard of, naturally. Is it so important to you to get a name?

[bouchonne]

No, no, I just had forgotten that I wouldn’t know. I’m an old man - half-senile.

[aberratic]

That's alright. I shall take notes of our conversations, so that you can be reminded of their contents when necessary.

[bouchonne]

A scribe indeed.

But I must be frank with you - the story of my family during the occupation is not a particularly typical one. The Banns of Dragonmount were steadfast foes to the pretender, instrumental in the breaking of the Orlesian yoke - which is something you'll find in the chronicles of the war, no doubt. What you're less likely to find are the stories of the freemen of Dragonmount who didn't have fortified war camps from which they could declare their courage, but instead who had to continue working the fields even as chevaliers ran them down and burned their homes out of vengeance over their lords' defiance. Those are the far more common stories.