OOCApproved by the lovely Neologism!
Timestamp: 27th Day of Summer, 515 A.V.
Location: Elysium Hall
“Your grace?” Silver's smooth, mellow tones rippled across the early evening elysium of the library. Burning orange light slanted in through the windows and danced down through the dome, turning the brass velispars into liquid gold and glittering on the ranks of books.
The skyglass was mirroring the nacarine light, glimmering strands of coruscating orange dancing and jinking through the subtly-rainbowed material, striking prismatic rays of light from inside it, painting the library in a shifting chiaroscuro of colour.
Alses was comfortably ensconced in one of her overstuffed armchairs, curled up like a cat in front of the fire and basking in the early evening light. Ostensibly, she was reading; she held an open book, but an astute observer would see that the pages hadn't been turned for some time, and her gaze was directed not down at the text but instead into the leaping heart of the fire, eyes half-lidded in lazy contentment.
Heat and light – two of the favourite things of the Ethaefal.
There was an open white-and-gold box on her desk on the mezzanine, the papers inside half-completed, dripping golden seals and Alses' own sizzling, ornate signature, but she was taking a break. As Councillor Radiant, she worked hard all day; the briefcases were homework, the stuff that didn't fit into her workday, and it was hard to keep a separation, sometimes, between work and play. Which came with its own set of problems, when the sun went down and the continual flow of energy that kept her awake, alert and fully functional ebbed away with her celestial form.
Silver's soft, deferential call got through to her, though, cutting through the reverie that was so easy for an Ethaefal to slip into. Her eyes flickered up, her face lost its slightly distant slackness as her brain recalled itself to the time and place of the present, rather than wherever her meanderings had mentally taken her.
“Yes, Silver?” she called, head angling to bring him into her field of view. Alses' eyes brightened as she saw the tray and the bottle on it – it had been something of a ritual as of late, the evening bottle of wine. Usually the same one, since Alses didn't actually ever drink it, but Silver still occasionally laid in a promising vintage and spiced affairs up every now and again.
Delicate arched eyebrows came together in quizzical enquiry, though, as she saw the small sheaf of papers and notes in his other hand.
“Good evening, your grace,” he murmured as the tray was laid down and the bottle expertly placed on the occasional table by her elbow. “I'd not normally bother you, but I found these documents on the floor. Would you like me to file them under A for Arture or S for Summoning?”
Alses blinked slightly stupidly at him for several moments, long enough for him to voice another query, this one tinged with a slight amount of concern. “M'lady? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine,” she murmured, not really paying attention. What Silver was holding were several of the utterly incomprehensible documents she'd received as a sort of inadvertent last bequest from Arture – and had never told Silver about. So how on earth had he known?
“Silver – I realise this might be an odd question – but would you enlighten us as to how you know what those are?”
A blink of pale eyes. “It's clearly noted they're the property of someone called Arture, m'lady, and whilst I'm no mage, I can still get the general gist of this.”
Alses blinked in turn, mind racing. “But...do you speak Arumenic, by any chance, Silver?”
A placid smile. “Yes, m'lady. There was something of a vogue for Eypharians when I was a young man; the few who lived in Lhavit at that time were the toast of the city. I learned Arumenic almost by osmosis, you might say.” He shook his head.
“Fascinating language, really – I didn't learn as much as some of my fellows; I never was a mage, and without four arms you can't really get the full nuances of the spoken form, but the written side of things I remember well enough.”
Silver was quite surprised at the speed with which Alses could move, when she had a mind. In a few ticks, she was up and out of her comfortable chair, robes swirling around her, and then just as suddenly very close to him, her golden eyes afire with the hard blaze of acquisition.
He'd never had much trouble meeting the laurelled Councillor's gaze before, even at its coolest and most condescending, but now, burning with something strange and indefinable, as though someone had lit a furnace behind her eyes, it was hard.
“Can you teach us?” she demanded. “Please! We have been trying for years to find someone! Aysel can speak it, but I can't very well ask the Night Lord to sit down and tell me how to say 'Hello my name is Alses'.”
“Well, I'm a little rusty, m'lady-”
Alses shook her head. “Doesn't matter. Even a basic understanding would be invaluable. What you have in your hand there is extremely valuable, and we've been trying to translate those documents for ages; I've got nowhere. It's been maddening, I don't mind telling you! Please, Silver!”
He spread his hands, helplessly. “You are my employer, m'lady, I can hardly refuse you. I'll do my best, of course.”
Timestamp: 27th Day of Summer, 515 A.V.
Location: Elysium Hall
“Your grace?” Silver's smooth, mellow tones rippled across the early evening elysium of the library. Burning orange light slanted in through the windows and danced down through the dome, turning the brass velispars into liquid gold and glittering on the ranks of books.
The skyglass was mirroring the nacarine light, glimmering strands of coruscating orange dancing and jinking through the subtly-rainbowed material, striking prismatic rays of light from inside it, painting the library in a shifting chiaroscuro of colour.
Alses was comfortably ensconced in one of her overstuffed armchairs, curled up like a cat in front of the fire and basking in the early evening light. Ostensibly, she was reading; she held an open book, but an astute observer would see that the pages hadn't been turned for some time, and her gaze was directed not down at the text but instead into the leaping heart of the fire, eyes half-lidded in lazy contentment.
Heat and light – two of the favourite things of the Ethaefal.
There was an open white-and-gold box on her desk on the mezzanine, the papers inside half-completed, dripping golden seals and Alses' own sizzling, ornate signature, but she was taking a break. As Councillor Radiant, she worked hard all day; the briefcases were homework, the stuff that didn't fit into her workday, and it was hard to keep a separation, sometimes, between work and play. Which came with its own set of problems, when the sun went down and the continual flow of energy that kept her awake, alert and fully functional ebbed away with her celestial form.
Silver's soft, deferential call got through to her, though, cutting through the reverie that was so easy for an Ethaefal to slip into. Her eyes flickered up, her face lost its slightly distant slackness as her brain recalled itself to the time and place of the present, rather than wherever her meanderings had mentally taken her.
“Yes, Silver?” she called, head angling to bring him into her field of view. Alses' eyes brightened as she saw the tray and the bottle on it – it had been something of a ritual as of late, the evening bottle of wine. Usually the same one, since Alses didn't actually ever drink it, but Silver still occasionally laid in a promising vintage and spiced affairs up every now and again.
Delicate arched eyebrows came together in quizzical enquiry, though, as she saw the small sheaf of papers and notes in his other hand.
“Good evening, your grace,” he murmured as the tray was laid down and the bottle expertly placed on the occasional table by her elbow. “I'd not normally bother you, but I found these documents on the floor. Would you like me to file them under A for Arture or S for Summoning?”
Alses blinked slightly stupidly at him for several moments, long enough for him to voice another query, this one tinged with a slight amount of concern. “M'lady? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine,” she murmured, not really paying attention. What Silver was holding were several of the utterly incomprehensible documents she'd received as a sort of inadvertent last bequest from Arture – and had never told Silver about. So how on earth had he known?
“Silver – I realise this might be an odd question – but would you enlighten us as to how you know what those are?”
A blink of pale eyes. “It's clearly noted they're the property of someone called Arture, m'lady, and whilst I'm no mage, I can still get the general gist of this.”
Alses blinked in turn, mind racing. “But...do you speak Arumenic, by any chance, Silver?”
A placid smile. “Yes, m'lady. There was something of a vogue for Eypharians when I was a young man; the few who lived in Lhavit at that time were the toast of the city. I learned Arumenic almost by osmosis, you might say.” He shook his head.
“Fascinating language, really – I didn't learn as much as some of my fellows; I never was a mage, and without four arms you can't really get the full nuances of the spoken form, but the written side of things I remember well enough.”
Silver was quite surprised at the speed with which Alses could move, when she had a mind. In a few ticks, she was up and out of her comfortable chair, robes swirling around her, and then just as suddenly very close to him, her golden eyes afire with the hard blaze of acquisition.
He'd never had much trouble meeting the laurelled Councillor's gaze before, even at its coolest and most condescending, but now, burning with something strange and indefinable, as though someone had lit a furnace behind her eyes, it was hard.
“Can you teach us?” she demanded. “Please! We have been trying for years to find someone! Aysel can speak it, but I can't very well ask the Night Lord to sit down and tell me how to say 'Hello my name is Alses'.”
“Well, I'm a little rusty, m'lady-”
Alses shook her head. “Doesn't matter. Even a basic understanding would be invaluable. What you have in your hand there is extremely valuable, and we've been trying to translate those documents for ages; I've got nowhere. It's been maddening, I don't mind telling you! Please, Silver!”
He spread his hands, helplessly. “You are my employer, m'lady, I can hardly refuse you. I'll do my best, of course.”
