Naia's Speech | Thoughts | 2nd Day of Winter, 513 AV
The journey to the Hall of Robes from the employment office was a short one indeed. It was a colossal site that she'd otherwise looked over, and upon closer inspection, she found that it didn't smell too much like dye and soup - there also the distinct aroma of old books. She gave a short sigh and straightened her clothing, as plain as they were, she figured that it would serve her best to ensure she looked presentable.
As she entered, she came immediately into the archival section, shelf by shelf of history recorded and catalogued. She was the slightest bit overwhelmed, composing herself by the sound of rushed footsteps. The woman who peaked her head out of one of the aisles didn't seem like a monk or scholar, and in her hand held a book that was on the verge of collapse. She felt a certain coolness to her mouth, the look of confusion contorting the mystery woman's expression enough for Naia to slap some sense into her mind, tightly shutting her gaping mouth.
"Hello? Naia began, not quite sure what to say or where to start, and wound up frowning and pointing back to the employment office. "I, uh - scribe?" This is why I haven’t tried to do this sooner. Before she could clear her mind and manage coherent words, the woman's face lit up to an alarming brightness, and she ducked back into the shelves. Of course, this left Naia to stand there like an idiot. Waiting for someone she wasn't sure was even going to return, after speaking so poorly that they might not even think that fluent was her primary tongue. Brilliant.
A moment more of awkward standing, and the sound of books being placed and moved, and she was back, this time gesturing Naia to follow after her. It was almost embarrassing for her at the speed in which she took off after her, at least feeling like she belonged with someone who knew where they were going a little way ahead of her. “You know, I was wondering who long it would take before a proper scribe was employed,” She began, a certain annoyance to her tone. The woman gave Naia a short look over, before slowly nodding and continuing on with her words. “We seamstresses and of the like do try our best,” she said, unwilling to sell herself short, no doubt, “And some of us are quite skilled in the area require for such work – but our hands are calloused and primed for our own needs.”
She then stopped and took Naia’s hands, running her rough hands over the sides of her fingers. “I don’t have a dominant hand – ambidextrous, the term is,” she offered, hoping to answer a question that hadn’t been asked. “Ah, good – it will be far less taxing to spend day after day with a quill, then,” she said, oddly cheery about the whole thing. Then it dawned on her. Who exactly was she, exactly? Was there someone ‘in charge’ that she should have spoken to? A head scholar or librarian? Would this woman give her an induction of sorts, then notify whomever was in charge of her presence? Questions, questions, questions. “I’m afraid that due to such workers taking on a multitude of jobs, there is no place of work set aside for scribe work. Though, there are many desks, tables, and chairs about the place – with one or two holding draws under a lock and key. You might be able to see about having one set aside for yourself.”
Naia nodded slowly, it was a fine enough idea, and one that she quite liked. At least, liked far better than the thought of having to stash her backpack, or keep it will her at all times, while she went about what ever work was in mind for her. She could indeed write, though she lacked skills in the ways of copying and cartography, and her stomach fell at the thought of being handed a difficult task within her first day. The slight flush of panic she wore was apparently obvious enough for the woman to take notice.
“We are on neutral ground, so you are in no position to decline a request from any monk, regardless of their Quarter.” She sighed lightly, as if taking Naia for someone who could care less of Monk, little lone from where they hailed. “That being said, you are permitted, and encouraged, to decline or reject any request that lies outside of your skill range. Better to leave and tome to become more ancient and damaged by some years, than possibly cause harm yourself. Besides, we that work the looms aren’t going to upright abandon any scribe work now that there is someone ‘taking care of it,’ we will still be working the shelves as usual, and will not slow down our activity in terms of transcription until you’ve been here at least a third of a season. We wouldn’t want to scare you off.”
As she entered, she came immediately into the archival section, shelf by shelf of history recorded and catalogued. She was the slightest bit overwhelmed, composing herself by the sound of rushed footsteps. The woman who peaked her head out of one of the aisles didn't seem like a monk or scholar, and in her hand held a book that was on the verge of collapse. She felt a certain coolness to her mouth, the look of confusion contorting the mystery woman's expression enough for Naia to slap some sense into her mind, tightly shutting her gaping mouth.
"Hello? Naia began, not quite sure what to say or where to start, and wound up frowning and pointing back to the employment office. "I, uh - scribe?" This is why I haven’t tried to do this sooner. Before she could clear her mind and manage coherent words, the woman's face lit up to an alarming brightness, and she ducked back into the shelves. Of course, this left Naia to stand there like an idiot. Waiting for someone she wasn't sure was even going to return, after speaking so poorly that they might not even think that fluent was her primary tongue. Brilliant.
A moment more of awkward standing, and the sound of books being placed and moved, and she was back, this time gesturing Naia to follow after her. It was almost embarrassing for her at the speed in which she took off after her, at least feeling like she belonged with someone who knew where they were going a little way ahead of her. “You know, I was wondering who long it would take before a proper scribe was employed,” She began, a certain annoyance to her tone. The woman gave Naia a short look over, before slowly nodding and continuing on with her words. “We seamstresses and of the like do try our best,” she said, unwilling to sell herself short, no doubt, “And some of us are quite skilled in the area require for such work – but our hands are calloused and primed for our own needs.”
She then stopped and took Naia’s hands, running her rough hands over the sides of her fingers. “I don’t have a dominant hand – ambidextrous, the term is,” she offered, hoping to answer a question that hadn’t been asked. “Ah, good – it will be far less taxing to spend day after day with a quill, then,” she said, oddly cheery about the whole thing. Then it dawned on her. Who exactly was she, exactly? Was there someone ‘in charge’ that she should have spoken to? A head scholar or librarian? Would this woman give her an induction of sorts, then notify whomever was in charge of her presence? Questions, questions, questions. “I’m afraid that due to such workers taking on a multitude of jobs, there is no place of work set aside for scribe work. Though, there are many desks, tables, and chairs about the place – with one or two holding draws under a lock and key. You might be able to see about having one set aside for yourself.”
Naia nodded slowly, it was a fine enough idea, and one that she quite liked. At least, liked far better than the thought of having to stash her backpack, or keep it will her at all times, while she went about what ever work was in mind for her. She could indeed write, though she lacked skills in the ways of copying and cartography, and her stomach fell at the thought of being handed a difficult task within her first day. The slight flush of panic she wore was apparently obvious enough for the woman to take notice.
“We are on neutral ground, so you are in no position to decline a request from any monk, regardless of their Quarter.” She sighed lightly, as if taking Naia for someone who could care less of Monk, little lone from where they hailed. “That being said, you are permitted, and encouraged, to decline or reject any request that lies outside of your skill range. Better to leave and tome to become more ancient and damaged by some years, than possibly cause harm yourself. Besides, we that work the looms aren’t going to upright abandon any scribe work now that there is someone ‘taking care of it,’ we will still be working the shelves as usual, and will not slow down our activity in terms of transcription until you’ve been here at least a third of a season. We wouldn’t want to scare you off.”
