#aubadement

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.  the  steps  of  the  temple  of  sunfyre,  lounging  about  like  an  uninvited  guardian  animal. 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.  @aubadement's  lorcan  falk,  a  fellow  sharpshooting  supplicant.

❝  someone's  gone  and  pissed  in  the  lady's  oats  this  morning, so she's decided to take it out on mere mortals,  i  believe.  ❞  kastor  speaks  without  looking  up,  too  focused  on  playing  tug  of  war  with  bottle.  the  mangy  mutt's  front  paws  are  off  the  floor  as  he  raises  his  hand  above  his  head,  still  gripping  the  hard  salt  beef  tight.  dumb  dog  probably  thinks  this  is  a  game  —  though  it  makes  kas  all  the  fonder  toward  him  for  it.  ❝  i  can  scarcely  fathom  another  reason  why  those  ghastly  priests  would  set  out  the  lentil  soup  this  afternoon  instead  of  the  mutton  one  we  both  like.  clearly  an  intentional  slight,  wouldn't  you  say  ?  ❞  he  casts  a  derisive  look  over  his  shoulder,  though  there's  still  a  mostly  empty  bowl  sitting  to  his  side.  if  his  struggle  with  the  dog  persisted,  upending  it  wouldn't  be  much  of  an  issue.  there  wouldn't  have  been  much  to  sop  up,  at  the  very  least. 

offering  the  a  sidelong  glance,  he  lifts  a  shoulder.  ❝  but  feel  free  to  help  yourself  to  it,  i  suppose.  just  a  friendly  warning;  far  be  it  from  me  to  stop  you.  ❞  or  anyone,  really.  these  days,  he  was  about  as  commanding  as  a  piece  of  furniture  —  and  not  the  kind  people  stubbed  their  toes  on.  the  sort  that  people  could  hoist  over  their  heads  in  frustration,  more  like,  though  that  was  only  because  he  allowed  it.  kastor  had  his  doubts  such  a  situation  would  repeat  itself  in  present  company,  as  welcome  a  reprieve  as  he  was  going  to  find  anywhere.  ❝  but  if  you'd  be  so  kind,  could  you  grab  a  couple  of  extra  rolls  ?  i  think  i  can  steal  the  jerky  if  i  distract  bottle  with  it.  i'll  do  whatever  you  need  doing,  in  exchange.  ❞  a  sly  wink  ensues,  as  though  that  may  smooth  his  path.

Nike had not known what to expect when she had first accepted House Domerian’s offer. To teach the youngest enough luminary script to satisfy his curiosity for sure, but beyond? She is at the whims of what the Magister desires. It’s such certainty that makes it incredibly bemusing to find out that she has been given a classroom of sorts and given all but free reign to teach as she pleases. Only members of Magister households are likely to be welcomed in the Domerian Estate, of course, but it still makes her lessons far more available to the public than she had expected. Far more contact with the most esteemed parts of Aurean society as well. 

In the end, she is the one benefiting from such an arrangement, as she gets the opportunity to discuss the basics of luminary scripting with a wide variety of individuals and hear their new perspectives. Well learned on her expertise she might be, but new perspectives tended to offer paths to unexpected solutions. And even beyond that, even beyond the way the thoughts of Aurean’s magi would bring new ideas, it also brings new connections. 

And new connections mean new excuses to leave the Domerian Estate without being deemed too suspicious. Of course, that did mean she had to meet people in the first place. Considering in which estate she was, Nike expected it would take weeks until a steady flow of magi would be a constant presence at her doors. A curse and a boon, for she would prefer to begin exploring the city-state as fast as possible, yet the steady trickle of individuals allowed for better conversation as words were not muffled by a crowd. 

“Good evening,” she greets over her shoulder as she places the last few lines on the spell she is drawing on the chalkboard. As it does not contain the necessary ingredients, it’s more as a visual example of the runes needed for a spell than an actual threat. And even if the spell were to activate, it would only create a stream of bubbles of all colors. \

“If you are looking for the scholar from Llyr academy, you are in the right place,” she says with a gentle smile, turning to offer the man a proper curtsy. Considering his attire and presence in the Domerian Estate, she can endeavor a guess to which one of Aurea’s social classes he belongs, but it is best not to make too many assumptions just yet. “Cleonice Alkyone, at your service. Please do let me know what sort of curiosity brought you forth and I will do my best to fulfill it.”