Post by dee on Mar 7, 2023 20:31:30 GMT
A note is delivered to Ruthenia: "Dear Dr Truelove, due to last night's events at the Fair I find myself in need of further magical protection. I'm given to understand that you know a simple spell that guards against a variety of hazards, including fiends. If the Night Circus is to be believed, it could be more useful than I'd like. If you might visit the Academy's Geography Department at your convenience, I'll take up no more than an hour of your time, and I'm happy to answer any questions you may have about the Feywild in return. Should you find that useful, given current circumstances. All the very best, Calláddrànille"
"Hm. I was hoping to gain more power and renown before I approached the Academy but very well. One cannot help but to educate youth that asks for tutelage. Verbena, with me, Myrtle, dismissed, Valerian and Hollyhock, at ease." Her room broke into a small whirlwind of activity as the raven flew from its perch to her shoulder, the quill at her desk stopped writing and fell and the two skeletons, one preoccupied with filing her nails, drew into a pose resembling a T and stood perfectly still. She was ready. Finding the Academy and the Geography department therein was simple enough, and Ruthenia was about to knock when she realised. Calláddrànille. An Elven name no doubt. An elf like herself, she mused, reaching back to touch her ears as if to verify this to herself.
Let us hope Common is enough, then. She knocked.
A few moments pass before an audible pop reaches Ruthenia's side of the door, which opens shortly afterwards. The department’s interior is entirely cloaked in darkness, but stood in the threshold is indeed a young elf. Short, blue hued, blonde, and wearing large spectacles, but with ears just as knife-like as Ruthenia’s. “Dr Truelove, you came!”, the dark elf’s common is accented, but clear. “Sad to say my Espruar is... Sal le'm sil ursplin? So it’s Sylvani or the common-tongue, I’m afraid”. Calla turns and walks inward, waving a hand to bring the light in the department’s main atrium to a dim but comfortable level. “Take a seat. If you brought the ward I can scribe as we talk?”
"I shall assume that was Elvish, so don't worry about it, my dear child. I haven't even been in this form for a month and I doubt you are familiar with the Halfling tongue or Celestial, so let it be the common-tongue." The brown skinned, strawberry blonde elf strode in, standing somewhat taller than Calla with a gait that was graceful and yet uncertain. She reflexively summoned a skeletal mage hand to pull up a chair before realising that she had enough strength in her body these days to just do it herself. Never one to waste a good spell, she used it instead to pull her spellbook from its pouch and onto the table, and having it flick through before she found the right spell. Her notation was stiff and formulaic for the most part, however there were hints of a self taught flair in there. "Here we go, Protection From Evil and Good. It will serve you well, as long as you actually use it. Otherwise accidents like this occur." she gestured at herself. "And by all means, feel free to look through and let me know if anything catches your eye. In your missive I noticed that you made mention of a potential threat to yourself, fiends I believe? What has led to that conclusion?"
Calla pulls over a tome of her own. Iron bound, lock adorned, and stuffed with loose sheafs of notes, its tightly constrained chaos gives stark contrast to Ruthenia's. Blue hands push through countless annotated diagrams, sigils, marginalia and monographs to finally rest on a blank page. The opposite, a heavily revised schematic for some kind of labyrinth. As she reaches for quill and ink and starts to copy, Calla replies, "The Diviner at the Night Circus, she nearly lost herself in the cards for me. My people are... how to say this kindly?" Calla's pen pauses for a moment, "They lie as easily as they breathe. Those gifts missed me, but I don't believe it was a performance. The last two cards were the Devil and the Fool, and both came with a warning". She looks up, adjusts her glasses, and fully takes in Ruthenia's features, "If it's not too soon to ask, what did happen to you?"
"Ah. Divination. Not my forte, I'm afraid. I suppose the powers that be have no desire to speak to a woman like me. Not sure I can help much on that front. Makes sense to prepare accordingly though." At the mention of the incident, Ruthenia audibly sighs. "Carelessness. A silly mistake really. I'd caught wind of a request to oust some demons and I joined in the hopes of gathering test materials. An endeavour that ended with me being split in two. And so I was reincarnated; one of the few ways you can bring someone back from injuries like that, into this altogether more palatable form. I was human before, and a particularly aged one at that. Now I am, what would you say, five or six hundred? And I am much more mobile, certainly. Stunning too, or at least I've been so told."
“Ah well. Easily done I suppose. For a brush with death, you’re certainly doing well! Elven aging is far from straight forward, but” Calla tilts her head, “You could pass for an easy 450? I don’t know how the Or-tel-quessir look so good running through brambles all day, but I guess you can tell me when you find out”. She smiles warmly, “Meanwhile I’m happy to help with any... teething issues?” Calla has the relevant part of the Doctor’s book half open, but is gently leafing through extra pages with her free hand, intermittently reading ahead. “These formulae, here. If you’re happy for a repeat I’ll come see you when I can channel the necessary power. Counterspell, Dispel... definitely Galder’s Tower. I’ve never even heard of that before and” she nods at all the notes poking out between the pages of her own tome “I’m quite well read”. Pen still moving, almost under its own power, Calla raises her glance again, this time over the glasses. “A woman like you. You mean a Necromancer.” It’s not really a question.
"Well, I've only ever undertaken forest excursions when absolutely necessary. Although then again that was when I was frailer. Hm. I just might, you know? Maybe that is just the wood elf nature surfacing." Ruthenia shrugged and laughed a little. "I'll call upon you when I need; I've just about gotten to grips with the trance, very useful by the way, and I've just about sorted out all of the skills I lost in the exchange. I'll keep you in the loop." Once again she found herself amused, this time at the spell choices that Calla had. "Ah yes, those first two are perennial classics, the last one is more curious. Most theorists would tell you that Tiny Hut is better overall however I simply prefer a brick and mortar shelter over a nebulous force. I don't particularly enjoy bedding down on grass."
At the mention of her true magic expertise, Ruthenia merely nodded.
"Yes, indeed, a necromancer. That being said even before I started to learn the gods didn't particularly care what I had to say. I studied in Thay for a good few years but I had to leave, the politics simply weren't for me. Moved from here and there, taking jobs where I could find them, being on the run as necessary, and now I find myself here. Do you take exception to my art, dear child?" This is simply a question, without a change in tone in her voice to indicate otherwise.
"Oh, sorry, no not at all. And even if I did I’d be a hypocrite”. The dark elf’s gaze drops again to the book, checking over her working, “It’s not like I know when to leave things alone that others might think best left buried. No, it’s just... unusual. Useful, but unusual. I’ve read about Thay of course, but nothing trustworthy. Nothing good, either. I’m sorry you had to go on the run, and glad you got out”. A brief glance upward conveys genuine empathy before Calla rattles on, leafing back and forth. “Tiny Hut’s all well and good, even if I find its school of magic maddening, but after an all day hike nothing beats somewhere to actually rest, never mind a good... study... or, a washroom? Delightful”. As she progresses, the young wizard swaps her ink for something different, maybe rich in mica? Iridescent, certainly. Referring more intently to Ruthenia’s work a schematic takes shape alongside Sylvan and Undercommon text. It’s nothing like the doctor’s notes: instead some kind of idealised map for the spell. A design that looks not unlike a labyrinth. Absorbed in it, Calla’s speech becomes less guarded. “As for the trance, I’m afraid the Elves of the Wood and my people treat it very differently. I understand that yours will make you part of the world enough to withdraw into the very fabric of it, to draw rain across you like a veil. My people are less tangible: shifting tides, shadow and light, the Dream and the memory it keeps. But please do call if you need. I’ll be here or at the Three Headed Dragon while I’m in Daring. I....uh”.
Suddenly the wall is back up.
“Look for the hair and the glasses. Sometimes I come back out of the Dream in a different season. But those things mostly stay.”
"Hm. I was hoping to gain more power and renown before I approached the Academy but very well. One cannot help but to educate youth that asks for tutelage. Verbena, with me, Myrtle, dismissed, Valerian and Hollyhock, at ease." Her room broke into a small whirlwind of activity as the raven flew from its perch to her shoulder, the quill at her desk stopped writing and fell and the two skeletons, one preoccupied with filing her nails, drew into a pose resembling a T and stood perfectly still. She was ready. Finding the Academy and the Geography department therein was simple enough, and Ruthenia was about to knock when she realised. Calláddrànille. An Elven name no doubt. An elf like herself, she mused, reaching back to touch her ears as if to verify this to herself.
Let us hope Common is enough, then. She knocked.
A few moments pass before an audible pop reaches Ruthenia's side of the door, which opens shortly afterwards. The department’s interior is entirely cloaked in darkness, but stood in the threshold is indeed a young elf. Short, blue hued, blonde, and wearing large spectacles, but with ears just as knife-like as Ruthenia’s. “Dr Truelove, you came!”, the dark elf’s common is accented, but clear. “Sad to say my Espruar is... Sal le'm sil ursplin? So it’s Sylvani or the common-tongue, I’m afraid”. Calla turns and walks inward, waving a hand to bring the light in the department’s main atrium to a dim but comfortable level. “Take a seat. If you brought the ward I can scribe as we talk?”
"I shall assume that was Elvish, so don't worry about it, my dear child. I haven't even been in this form for a month and I doubt you are familiar with the Halfling tongue or Celestial, so let it be the common-tongue." The brown skinned, strawberry blonde elf strode in, standing somewhat taller than Calla with a gait that was graceful and yet uncertain. She reflexively summoned a skeletal mage hand to pull up a chair before realising that she had enough strength in her body these days to just do it herself. Never one to waste a good spell, she used it instead to pull her spellbook from its pouch and onto the table, and having it flick through before she found the right spell. Her notation was stiff and formulaic for the most part, however there were hints of a self taught flair in there. "Here we go, Protection From Evil and Good. It will serve you well, as long as you actually use it. Otherwise accidents like this occur." she gestured at herself. "And by all means, feel free to look through and let me know if anything catches your eye. In your missive I noticed that you made mention of a potential threat to yourself, fiends I believe? What has led to that conclusion?"
Calla pulls over a tome of her own. Iron bound, lock adorned, and stuffed with loose sheafs of notes, its tightly constrained chaos gives stark contrast to Ruthenia's. Blue hands push through countless annotated diagrams, sigils, marginalia and monographs to finally rest on a blank page. The opposite, a heavily revised schematic for some kind of labyrinth. As she reaches for quill and ink and starts to copy, Calla replies, "The Diviner at the Night Circus, she nearly lost herself in the cards for me. My people are... how to say this kindly?" Calla's pen pauses for a moment, "They lie as easily as they breathe. Those gifts missed me, but I don't believe it was a performance. The last two cards were the Devil and the Fool, and both came with a warning". She looks up, adjusts her glasses, and fully takes in Ruthenia's features, "If it's not too soon to ask, what did happen to you?"
"Ah. Divination. Not my forte, I'm afraid. I suppose the powers that be have no desire to speak to a woman like me. Not sure I can help much on that front. Makes sense to prepare accordingly though." At the mention of the incident, Ruthenia audibly sighs. "Carelessness. A silly mistake really. I'd caught wind of a request to oust some demons and I joined in the hopes of gathering test materials. An endeavour that ended with me being split in two. And so I was reincarnated; one of the few ways you can bring someone back from injuries like that, into this altogether more palatable form. I was human before, and a particularly aged one at that. Now I am, what would you say, five or six hundred? And I am much more mobile, certainly. Stunning too, or at least I've been so told."
“Ah well. Easily done I suppose. For a brush with death, you’re certainly doing well! Elven aging is far from straight forward, but” Calla tilts her head, “You could pass for an easy 450? I don’t know how the Or-tel-quessir look so good running through brambles all day, but I guess you can tell me when you find out”. She smiles warmly, “Meanwhile I’m happy to help with any... teething issues?” Calla has the relevant part of the Doctor’s book half open, but is gently leafing through extra pages with her free hand, intermittently reading ahead. “These formulae, here. If you’re happy for a repeat I’ll come see you when I can channel the necessary power. Counterspell, Dispel... definitely Galder’s Tower. I’ve never even heard of that before and” she nods at all the notes poking out between the pages of her own tome “I’m quite well read”. Pen still moving, almost under its own power, Calla raises her glance again, this time over the glasses. “A woman like you. You mean a Necromancer.” It’s not really a question.
"Well, I've only ever undertaken forest excursions when absolutely necessary. Although then again that was when I was frailer. Hm. I just might, you know? Maybe that is just the wood elf nature surfacing." Ruthenia shrugged and laughed a little. "I'll call upon you when I need; I've just about gotten to grips with the trance, very useful by the way, and I've just about sorted out all of the skills I lost in the exchange. I'll keep you in the loop." Once again she found herself amused, this time at the spell choices that Calla had. "Ah yes, those first two are perennial classics, the last one is more curious. Most theorists would tell you that Tiny Hut is better overall however I simply prefer a brick and mortar shelter over a nebulous force. I don't particularly enjoy bedding down on grass."
At the mention of her true magic expertise, Ruthenia merely nodded.
"Yes, indeed, a necromancer. That being said even before I started to learn the gods didn't particularly care what I had to say. I studied in Thay for a good few years but I had to leave, the politics simply weren't for me. Moved from here and there, taking jobs where I could find them, being on the run as necessary, and now I find myself here. Do you take exception to my art, dear child?" This is simply a question, without a change in tone in her voice to indicate otherwise.
"Oh, sorry, no not at all. And even if I did I’d be a hypocrite”. The dark elf’s gaze drops again to the book, checking over her working, “It’s not like I know when to leave things alone that others might think best left buried. No, it’s just... unusual. Useful, but unusual. I’ve read about Thay of course, but nothing trustworthy. Nothing good, either. I’m sorry you had to go on the run, and glad you got out”. A brief glance upward conveys genuine empathy before Calla rattles on, leafing back and forth. “Tiny Hut’s all well and good, even if I find its school of magic maddening, but after an all day hike nothing beats somewhere to actually rest, never mind a good... study... or, a washroom? Delightful”. As she progresses, the young wizard swaps her ink for something different, maybe rich in mica? Iridescent, certainly. Referring more intently to Ruthenia’s work a schematic takes shape alongside Sylvan and Undercommon text. It’s nothing like the doctor’s notes: instead some kind of idealised map for the spell. A design that looks not unlike a labyrinth. Absorbed in it, Calla’s speech becomes less guarded. “As for the trance, I’m afraid the Elves of the Wood and my people treat it very differently. I understand that yours will make you part of the world enough to withdraw into the very fabric of it, to draw rain across you like a veil. My people are less tangible: shifting tides, shadow and light, the Dream and the memory it keeps. But please do call if you need. I’ll be here or at the Three Headed Dragon while I’m in Daring. I....uh”.
Suddenly the wall is back up.
“Look for the hair and the glasses. Sometimes I come back out of the Dream in a different season. But those things mostly stay.”