#geofferaut

Geofferaut turned his same attention briefly toward Lebeaux... then blinked once and let his hand fall back to his side.

Lebeaux glanced aside to watch, quirking a dark brow. “My. You’ve been practicing.” He wasn’t quite sure that was a good thing. Nonetheless. The Chirurgeon sank back down into his seat. “As I said, accomplished arcanist. Now, then.” He smiiiiled as he shifted slightly, his hands moving to rest on the edge of the desk and a moment later there was a quiet ‘click’ before the room’s environment changed drastically. All of the ambient aether seemed to be drained away as though in a vacuum, trying to use one’s own aether would result in it being drained away as well. An uncomfortable sort of situation for mages who were practically steeped in the stuff.

Geofferaut's eyes widened when the click sounded. His hand shot to his book. His mouth worked, but sounds seemed to struggle coming out. "W-- where is it," he finally managed.

Luke shifted to watch the caster - and the blacksmith himself looked largely unaffected, leaning comfortably against the chair itself, sipping his tea as if there were no worries, no issues across the whole star for him at this moment. "Stored... drained?  But stored.  It returns easy 'nough, aye?"

Geofferaut gripped his book like a man drowning. "Where is it." The monotone remained, but the words came faster, harsher air behind them.

Lebeaux giggled at that reaction. While it would have been barely registered coming from most other people, such a reaction from Geoff was nearly as good as howling and throwing oneself on the ground. He was pretty damn pleased with it. “Go on, Geofferaut. Demonstrate a bit of arcanima again.” He suggested cheerfully as he grinned broadly enough for a dimple to appear in his left cheek, leaving the device on despite the uncomfortable way it made his head ache and skin crawl. “Don’t answer him, Luke.” He noted carefully. "What's the fun if you reveal the secret."

Luke continued to sip his tea, his arm casually over the chair's back and watching the arcanist.

Geofferaut's wide, wild eyes swiveled to Luke Gravespast. Luke Gravespast knew where it went. A gleaming blade slid out of his sleeve into his right hand. "Where is it."

Luke had created the very system that was draining and storing the aether away from the caster.  At the blade he didn't shift, though he did lean down, setting the teacup aside. "Nau' tellin'..."

Geofferaut began to move toward Luke, but his right leg seemed disinclined to cooperate. He stumbled and swerved against the post between windows. Unwilling to release his grip on book or blade, he fitfully pushed himself upright between left leg and post. "Where is it."

Lebeaux rose to his feet at the slight flash of steel. His hands still rested on the desktop, fingers curling underneath to switch the device back off. Though he let his finger rest on it just in case the other elezen decided to ‘demonstrate’ again. “Alright, that’s quite enough.” He declared, still grinning broadly. “What’s the matter, Geofferaut. Only a bit of aether dampening.”

Luke remained with the chair between himself and the caster, his hand having fallen onto one of the tools slung from his belt, hand on the hammer there. "Hellfires, still ain't tell, knife 'r nau'!  Put tha' slim-blade 'way."

Geofferaut righted himself quickly when the aether returned, eyes rounding on Lebeaux, neither grip showing any sign of relenting. "You." The eyes were doing something more than merely taking in information and the single word carried more intonation than normally found in an entire interview with Geofferaut (not a high bar to reach, but still).

Lebeaux grinned with delight at the entire situation unfolding in front of him. The stagger, carefully noted to be marked down later. The feral look in the elezen’s eyes. As well as Luke’s calm demeanor under pressure. As though having a blade pointed at him by a potentially deranged scarecrow was an everyday occurrence. A few stray giggles slipped out, even as Geofferaut turned to… glare?... at him. “Yes? I what…” He coaxed.

The fact that the blacksmith was fairly used to threats of violence couldn't be all that unusual given the areas he worked for in the Golden Fox.  But it might've been odd that instead of ducking he went for a weapon, improvised or not.  In fact, his hand still rested on the hammer, drawing it slowly to hand so that if there was a dash he had a chance of action.

Geofferaut's glower intensified. "We should have killed you a hundred times over by now." He fairly spat out the words before he dropped to a lilting mutter. Lines of aether drew, redrew, and crossed in the air in front of him, a twisting mandala of geometry forming.

Luke remained silent.  Like good help.  But the aether lines worried him, the blacksmith stepping a little to the side so he had a better chance of heading to the doorway.  Even if it was... locked.  Sweet mercies, Lebeaux.

Lebeaux leaned forwards against the desk as the occasional giggles turned to outright laughter. “We?” He repeated. “Who is ‘we’, Geofferaut!” He cackled as the geometry began again. His finger curled, depressing the switch once again re-connecting the circuit now that device had likely had some time to ‘cool down’ after the previous demonstration. Though this time his free hand slid into his pocket to remove the palm-sized pistol which he leveled calmly at Geoff to discourage him for making a physical attempt with the aetherial options cut off. “Enough of that.” He ordered calmly. The laughter having subsided rather sharply.

The change was instant. Glower returned to wide, panicked eyes. Under-exercised facial muscles went lax. Geofferaut’s eyes rolled to the door and he began a frantic, limping, hop toward it, blade lashing out at the screen. Geofferaut whispered a frantic, monotone litany. "Where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it whereisitwhereisitwhereisitwhereisitwhereisit..."

Luke shot a look over to Lebeaux.  "Shut tha' off 'gain y' daf' fool," he hissed. This was, even for the elezen, a little much.  Just a little, from what he knew. "Y' should b' happy seein' tha' it worked well 'nough, aye?"

Lebeaux kept the pistol trained even as he considered that. It was already too late for one of the paper partitions, he would have to have it all replaced as the panels tore easily under the wickedly sharp sleeve steel. “If I turn it off, it’s possible he’ll turn us inside out.” He offered cheerfully. Finally with a small and petulant sigh, as though he had been scolded for picking on his brother, he released the switch to break the circuit and return the aether levels to normal. “There is a latch on the door, Geofferaut.” He suggested. “It locks from the inside…”

Luke shoved the hammer back onto his belt as Geofferaut seemed intent on the door, watching Lebeaux with a slight shift of positioning.  Sadly, sadly, his tea was not going to get drunk it seemed. "Show summat faith fer folks an' soddin' shut it off 'fore y' collapse yer - wha' are y' two t' each o'r?"

Geofferaut righted his posture instantly when the device shut off. The gaze he turned on Lebeaux flickered between blank and seething hatred. "I can go now," he monotoned. His right arm flashed in Luke's general direction and steel flew, but not toward Luke. It aimed directly for the burning candles placed tauntingly atop a stack of paper.

Lebeaux still kept the pistol and his attention on Geoff. Watching the elezen’s strange, jerky motions as he tried desperately to get out of the warded room. He suspected it would be a very, very long time before the arcanist willingly stepped into his office, if ever. Worth it. “Can’t you tell.” He asked Luke with a smug smile, still not looking away from Geoff. “The same surname, such wonderful rivalry, a bit of harmless teasing… oh. Put that out, won’t you.” Lebeaux suggested to Luke as the knife glittered against candelabra, knocking it neatly over into the nearby parchment piles. That would be problematic momentarily if not tended to.

Luke did move from the flash of steel - he dodged to the side just enough that he didn't get the motion and feel of steel too, too close - but at the - "Why tha' seven 'r nine dusty hells y' soddin' put candles on tha' flammable books," he shot back, grabbing the candles from the pile and patting the sparking flames before they left more than scorches on the covers.  Your fault, Lebeaux.  "Soddin' brothers," he said dryly, low under his breath as he righted the candelabra.

Geofferaut's now free hand found and released the lock, eyes still alternately warily and menacingly on Lebeaux.

Lebeaux wasn’t much of a reader to begin with. The important medical text were kept safely up on the shelves where he could reference them. But much of the stuff scattered along the floor and used for aesthetic were junk volumes. It was entirely his fault. “Very good, Luke. Well done with the candles.” He agreed brightly, still smiiiling at Geoff. “Come now, Geofferaut. Don’t look at me like that. It was all a bit of harmless fun now, wasn’t it. You may go.” He offered, fingers tightening on the handle of the pistol but not the trigger, keeping as still as possible under the uncomfortable stare of the other elezen.

Geofferaut backed out of the office, stare not consistently blank, and shut the intact door behind him. Shame about the other side of the wall....

Lebeaux waited until the door was closed before he sank back into his chair with a shuddering sigh. “Hells.” He muttered on the sigh. “Fury have mercy, that was good.” He declared as he grinned the sort of stupid, faraway grin that usually came on the heels of an entirely different sort of satisfaction. “I had never even imagined.” He set the pistol down on the desk top and grabbed his journal, pulling it closer to scribble notes furiously. “I am entirely satisfied with your work, Luke. The remainder of your payment is on the sideboard, in the jar labelled ‘chammomile tea’.” He suggested without looking up.

Geofferaut unlocked the outer door and pulled it open. Before leaving, he laid his hand against the book by his side and muttered a quick incantation. Wards and protections permitting, the overstuffed chair, couch, several plants, and the food on the table smoldered and began to burn.

Luke shifted, looking at Lebeaux and letting out a sigh as he studied the elezen, a twitch of his mouth as he watched Leb.  "I-" The crackle of fire in the rest of the office got a hissed exhale - this was why he hated casters.  "Gla' yer satisfied... werked as intended an' when tha' soddin' fire isn't ragin' imma get me payment."

Geofferaut pulled the door shut tight behind him against another blade wedged in between it and the jamb.

Lebeaux glanced up at the smell of fire. “Oh.” He said flatly as he rose up to his feet and hurried over to the partition. He slid it open to find a merry bonfire of his favored items. At least the combustible ones. Rather than rush out he moved to the Hingan-style windows, unhooking the latches and throwing them open. More air for the fire but it should help save them from smoke inhalation. “I’d suggest keeping low to the floor and leaving through the door or a window. I’ll be attempting conjury.” Which could be equally as dangerous as the fire. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his nose and mouth as he hurried past the burning furnishings to his clinic, throwing the door open and starting the water pump.

Luke looked at the door and the screws holding the doorframe together. "...y' c'n get me payment unmelted la'r on," he quipped glumly, the tone of his voice placing the blame for this squarely on the elezen responsible.  "An' I'll head out through-" The handily opened windows in the office.  "-those."

Lebeaux sidled over to plant himself on said stack of books. Making himself perfectly comfortable. He had already greeted them so he didn’t bother doing it over again. “And how is your question and answer session going. Have you offered him tea, Geofferaut.”

"I don't know. No."

"...Actually, we were trying to figure out why you sent me here." It wasn't so much a we as it was Atlan asking Geoff a thousand questions.

Lebeaux smirked smugly. “Atlan and I are your guests. Some tea would be in order.” He reminded Geoff before he smiiiiled over at Atlan. “Well, having you take a lesson from Geofferaut was mostly a way to kill a bit of time. Since I assume pulling teeth would actually be easier than extracting guidance from him.” He declared, rather proud of himself for that one. “It’s rather to do with the other half of our agreement. You gave me permission to have you studied, essentially.” Lebeaux waved a hand at Geoff. “He is the most thorough researcher I know.”

Geofferaut turned his attention back to the pile of papers in front of him, a blank sheet on top, now that Lebeaux was bearing the brunt of the socializing. His hands filled a crucible with clear liquid from one of the bottles and set it by Lebeaux's knee.

Atlan almost visibly shrunk back at that explanation. Of course, that would explain the nature of this place. The smells, the tools, the general chill of the place... If Atlan didn't know any better might think Lebeaux had chosen this particular place because of the information he'd let slip during their first lesson. Atlan set the book down upon the desk since Lebeaux was sitting on the pile now. "...I did agree to it," he muttered.

Lebeaux picked up the crucible and set it on the stove behind him without shifting his attention away from Atlan. “You did, indeed.” He agreed with a serene smile. “Geofferaut, Atlan is host to a specimen relevant to our recent research. There are marked similarities. Would you be willing to examine him.” He offered, picking up a pair of tongs to remove the crucible from the stove once it was heated to set it over by Geoff and the ingredients wall again.

Geofferaut placed the single mug next to the crucible and extracted a small scoop filled with small leaves from the bottom-most, right-most drawer on his wall. These were added to the mug, the scoop was returned to its place, and the drawer was closed snugly.

"Yes. I have questions."

"...Okay," Atlan pushed away from the wall and stood with his arms folded over his chest. He'd asked plenty of questions, after all. It was time to let Geoff have a turn.

"What percentage of the subject must remain intact."

"Wha...?" Atlan's head snapped from Geoff to Lebeaux, obviously not expecting questions of that nature. He could still run if he needed to, at least, with Lebeaux no longer blocking the exit.

Geofferaut repeated, a few decibels louder, but with no additional inflection. Or any at all. "What percentage of the subject must remain intact."

"It hasn't revealed anything else to me otherw—" Atlan Lanning stopped, eyes snapping to Geofferaut. "My... no, well yes. My mother's still alive. She still communicates with me sometimes, but Saerdha killed my father."

"Where is your mother." Geofferaut Derosiers asked.

Lebeaux Desrosiers casually set down the mug to make a few more notes at that. “How nice.” Look at these two. A mammet and a monster yet they still kept in touch with their mums. Wasn’t that sweet.

"I think still in the Shroud... the swamps to the south. It's easier for her to find subjects the Wailers won't look for there."

"Okay. What is your mother's name."

"Ofelia Lanning. Why?"

"I intend to communicate with it.” Geofferaut answered before continuing his own line of questioning. “You will describe Ofelia Lanning."

Lebeaux noted that down carefully. She certainly sounded a charming sort. “Has she been keeping track of your condition.”

"I... I really don't think that's a good idea. She does terrible things to people... horrible experiments, and if you're out... interrupting her," he warned, knowing it probably wouldn't do any good.

Lebeaux smiled primly as he looked around the clinic. “And just what do you suspect goes on here, Atlan.” He mused. “I think they’d have quite a bit to talk about.”

"You will describe Ofelia Lanning." Geofferaut ordered.

"She's... been watching me ever since Saerdha and Rin took me away," Atlan answered Lebeaux, then turned back to Geoff, sighing. "She's short, same eyes as mine... dark hair, and has a Hannish accent."

"Your father was an elezen. Probably a Gridanian Wildwood." Geofferaut hypothesized.

"...Ishgardian, but yes. The rest is right."

"Okay. How does Ofelia Lanning watch you."

"That's a good question. We've been trying to figure it out, too, but she's apparently recently spoken with Rinha'li. She got chased off before she could tell him what she wanted..."

"What chased Ofelia Lanning."

“Imagine she didn't want to be spotted by other people, or me... Others showed up after she got his attention, so she couldn't be alone with him. Geofferaut, I really don't think you should try communicating with her. She's dangerous..."

"How does Ofelia Lanning communicate with you." Geofferaut repeated flatly.

"...Recently? Often. She leaves some of her research and letters under a tree for me to take."

"Where is the tree."

"Um, do you have a map? I can mark it... A map of the Shroud, I mean."

"You will wait here."

"Lebeaux," Atlan frowned as Geofferaut walked off. "Really, you should talk him out of this."

Lebeaux returned with a fresh cup of tea, just barely missing getting it knocked out of his hands as Geoff strode by on a mission. He settled back into his seat, smiling cheerfully. “Out of what. Are we going on a field trip to find Ofelia? That sounds absolutely lovely. I’m sure she has all sorts of useful insights to share…”

Geofferaut unrolled a Shroud map on the table. It featured notations in the general vicinity of Amdapor in the south written in a tight, obsessively neat hand.

Atlan looked over the map as he plucked the pencil from the table and made several marks in the more remote parts of the swamp. "...This is where she kept me, in her lab, but... I don't know how much of it is left. This is where the tree is, but I think it moves. It's not... normal, and it smells like corpses. I guess that's how you might be able to tell it apart from the others."

"Okay." Geofferaut rolled up the map and tucked it and the pencil away among the collection of miscellany on and in his robe. 

"I have no scheduled social activities today."

“Wrong, I’ve scheduled one for you.” Lebeaux explained cheerfully. He hopped down off of his perch and made light shooing motions with his hands.

"Oh. Um." Geofferaut's blinking intensified. In between blinks, his gaze darted between the various instruments, the foot, the guest intruder, and the exit. "Um."

Lebeaux stepped closer as the gesture continued, flicking fingers growing ever closer to Geofferaut. “Mandatory.” He repeated. “I will be bringing you as a guest to an establishment I frequent. It’s a vital component to continuing the charade of being siblings.”

Geofferaut leaned away, bare, scarred fingers grasping for one of the sharper tools on the table. "I have questions. What is the establishment. What are the parameters for dress."

Lebeaux paused in the shooing motion, but he didn’t move away. “I can answer your questions as you dress.” He explained calmly. “Dress code would be ‘I don’t want to be embarrassed to be seen with you’.” He suggested helpfully. “The coat you wore to the Tradehouse was rather dapper. That would suffice. Or something similar.”

"Okay."

Lebeaux nodded. “Very good. Go put it on. It’s a social club for gentlemen.” He explained, eyeing the foot still laying out on the table. “The earlier in the day we go the less likely it is that it will be crowded. I thought you would appreciate that.”

Lebeaux pushed the door open without bothering to knock, holding it open to ensure the other elezen would follow him in. “Good afternoon.” He called out cheerfully.

Geofferaut followed Lebeaux through the doors and immediately did his best to disappear into the plant.

Daijiro Satake hums. "Then, would you not be happier than you were having not explored this option?" he wonders. "It is one thing to accept that one is suffering. Another to live with suffering without knowing all that one has done to prevent it." He offers a light shrug. "Then, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" He cants his head slightly. "Ah. Mayhaps we ought to speak quietly of such things. There are curious personages upstairs, if I am not mistaken."

Perrin Solleux meanwhile had just managed to slink in behind the other two elezen. With one familiar white robed elezen, for now he remained quiet with his hands behind his back. Maybe the other duskwight considered him part of Lebeaux’s menagerie.

Michaux Vidal lowers his book at glances toward the door as it opens. When Lebeaux steps in, he smiles a little and sets the book aside. He rises. "Good afternoon, Lebeaux, and... friend?" Then he sees Perrin. "Friends?"

Lebeaux looked about the initial parlor, finding a familiar face there already. “Michaux, what a surprise to find you here.” He noted with a calm smile, he waved a hand towards the black-clad man behind him. “This is Geofferaut Derosiers.” He leaned hard on the same name for a moment. Then tilted his head. Michaux knew his real name, the ruse would be lost on him. “An associate of mine. I’ve decided to bring him to the club so he can enjoy a little company.”

Michaux lifts his brow and takes another look at the Elezen trying to hide behind the plant. "Desrosiers, hm? Kareem is preparing some tea. Should I go tell him to make some in the Ishgardian manner also?"

Rashk Geilt glances at Daijiro and narrows his eyes, his ears twitching. "Then perhaps we should go elsewhere to discuss what I wish to discuss," he says. "Though it can wait if you wish to perform your owner greeting rituals at any potential new visitors."

Lebeaux nodded in agreement to Michuax’s question. “Ishgardian tea would be divine.” He smiiiiled at Geofferaut. “You should go sit by Michaux. He is a friend of mine.” He suggested, indicating the couch before he looked back to Perrin. “I would expect nothing less. I suppose your own line of work would be more profitable than working for another anyways.” He strode across the room with a flick of his coat tails to settle himself onto the couch so he wouldn’t have to keep turning.

Geofferaut blinked. "Um. Okay." He sat ramrod straight and technically next to Michaux.

Michaux blinks once, slowly, at Lebeaux's unusual friend, and then a sparkle of amusement appears in his eyes. He nods at Lebeaux. "I'll be right back. Please make yourselves comfortable." He bows his head in greeting to Perrin too on his way out of the room.

Daijiro nods. "Very well. Let us go elsewhere then", he says. "Ah. But then, it would be rude to abandon new visitors. Would you not join me in offering companionship to such personages? Ah. If you are feeling well enough to do so, of course."

“Of course.” Lebeaux nodded when Michaux left the room, smiling smugly over at Geofferaut. “Oh, I haven’t introduced you. Perrin, this is Geofferaut Derosiers.” Lebeaux shifted over to plant himself obnoxiously in the center of the couch.

Rashk takes another drag off the pipe before tapping the fogweed out and abandoning the pipe for Kareem to clean later. "I feel perfectly fine." And even if he doesn't, well--he feels fine enough to pretend. He gets up and then waits for Daijiro, obviously intending to let the Hingan lead.

"Your associate, if I heard correctly." Perrin noted before giving said Derosiers a short nod of acknowledgement. Before simple planting himself onto the free chair.

Geofferaut updated the list accordingly.

Michaux returns after a few moments, still looking rather amused, and walks over to sit closely beside Geofferaut. Definitely not on purpose. To make him uncomfortable. No way. "Tea will be ready soon. Are you comfortable?" He smiles at Geofferaut. "You look rather as if you've just sat upon a stray needle. Can I make you more comfortable?"

Daijiro nods. "Of course", he remarks. He then tries to rest a reassuring hand on the Miqo'tes shoulder, though it is a fleeting gesture before he does indeed move up and ahead.

Rashk allows the touch and then trails along, tail flicking in his wake.

Geofferaut leaned away from Michaux. "It doesn't matter. No."

Lebeaux flashed his saintly smile at Perrin, patting the spot he had just vacated. While he had fully intended on sandwiching himself between the two Duskwights, Michaux had decided to go ‘make nice’ with Geofferaut. He wasn’t about to spoil that. The corner of his mouth quirked into a small smirk.

Daijiro can be seen moving past the bar, then pushing the curtain gently to the side, waiting for Rashk to pass as well before he enters and offers a deep bow in the eastern style. "Welcome to the Guzen Mizu Shobai Host Club~."

Perrin just pretended to sigh, as if standing up was a chore. Before Satake walked in of course. "Ah, lovely to see you again, why with Rashk as well in tow!" the duskwight even giving the keeper a small lazy wave, before, now actually placing himself next to Lebeaux.

Michaux is beginning to enjoy this way too much. "Doesn't matter? Good to know." He inches a little closer. "What brings you here today? Other than Lebeaux, I mean." Then he glances at Perrin. "Are you not part of their entourage? I'm sorry for not greeting you properly. I hope you like your tea either strong enough to fight an army, or drowned in milk and sugar."

Geofferaut spoke stiffly from a stiff angle. "It is a mandatory social occasion. Hello Daijiro Satake it is good to see you. Hello Rashk Geilt it is good to see you."

Rashk bows beside Daijiro and then lets his gaze travel the room, starting with Perrin, a smile already on his face. It doesn't falter at Lebeaux, but Geofferaut draws a pause from the Keeper ... before he smiles more brightly. "Ah, Geofferaut, what a pleasure to see you here! Lebeaux, you hide your delightful brother away entirely too much," he says in playful admonishment. "You should have brought him over sooner."

"No I'm afraid not. But I will say not no to a tea strong enough to fight an army with." Perrin replied.

Lebeaux smoothed his expression back to serene as Daijiro and Rashk emerged from the back room of the club. “Good afternoon. I was beginning to worry that there were no Hosts on duty. A shame, so many customers left to fend for themselves.” He sighed theatrically, then gestured to the man on the other couch. “I’ve brought another Derosiers to enjoy your services.” He tilted his head at Rashk’s comments, placing a hand on his chest as though he felt terrible about it taking so long. “It is ever so hard to tear him away from his work, at times.”

"Mandatory. Social. Occasion." Michaux bites his lower lip hard to keep from making his amusement too obvious. "What an excellent idea to bring you here, then."

Geofferaut's fingers twitch arrhythmically in his lap.

Daijiro smiles. "Of course, we have our hosts here to entertain whenever necessary", Daijiro tells Lebeaux. "And such a pleasure to see your brother again. He is looking quite well~". He inclines his head to Geofferaut with a little grin, then his gaze settles on Perrin. "And how pleasing to see you as well, Ser. What desires may we indulge? Tea and rice cakes, perhaps?"

"Kareem is making tea," Michaux tells Daijiro. "I did not think of food." He never does. "My apologies."

Geofferaut breathed shallowly and quickly.

Daijiro smiles. "It is fortunate then that we have rice cakes at the ready~", Daijiro tells Michaux, before his gaze returns to the long-necked guests.

Lebeaux smiled lightly at Daijiro’s offer, tilting his head without looking directly at the Hingan. Letting his gaze drift over the other elezen gathered on the couches instead. “I would certainly enjoy sweets with my tea.”

Rashk observes Geoff, maintaining a perfect, mildly curious smile. Though perhaps the corner of his mouth twitches a little at noting the man's discomfort. Somebody looks as if they might soon bolt for the door. "And how has your work been, Geofferaut? Your brother tells us so very little of you, we're left swooning for any morsel." He's absolutely ignoring Lebeaux completely now in favour of Geofferaut.

Some of Michaux's amusement fades when he hears Geofferaut's labored breathing. He looks back at the man with slightly furrowed brows. "Deeper breaths," he says for his ears alone. "You'll pass out like that."

Perrin waved his hand, the one on the other side of Lebeaux, lazily at the mention of indulging desires. "Tea will suffice, though your other employee over there has already called for it." Though the duskwight raised a brow at the other Derosiers breathing being anything but normal. Perrin leaning close to Lebeaux to speak to him instead, " Does your....brother-always seem to roll of fight or flight instincts?" Seems that a certain elezen here didn't bought the brother stick.

Geofferaut takes a single deep breath. "Fine how are you."

Daijiro smiles. "Then let me go and gather them", he remarks. He smiles. "Rashk, why don't you make yourself comfortable with one of our guests?" He then disappears towards the kitchen.

Rashk slooooowly shuffles over to the sofa Geoff is absolutely suffering on, smiiiling at him. "Mm, yes, you are fine."

Lebeaux leaned in closer as Perrin leaned to speak to him, resting his shoulder against the taller man as he peered past him at Geofferaut borderline hyperventilating. The corners of his smile quirked wickedly. “Generally, yes. In social situations, always. I’m helping him to adjust and adapt.” Wasn’t he charitable.

Michaux glances at Rashk with a lifted brow. Then he returns his attention to Geofferaut. He seems less amused and more watchful now. "This seems an odd way of helping him adapt. If you were afraid of vipers, I wouldn't toss you into a pit full of them," he says mildly to Lebeaux.

Rashk is either the biggest fan of awkward angles, or trying to get a rise out of a certain narcissist by ignoring them and staring at Geoff with doe eyes.

“Come now, Michaux. That’s nothing alike. I’m surrounding him with the kindest, most welcoming vipers I can find.” Lebeaux offered cheerfully.

Geofferaut suspected, despite the plethora of books, that Lebeaux was something less than an avid reader. "Um. There are at least two."

Lebeaux waved a hand to gesture at the décor. While some of it may have been actual medical reference and such, there was a good chance most of the books would never be touched. Or weren’t even real. “Lovely, isn’t it.” He declared. “I’m having some interesting additions put in. A bit of experimental magitek, research into aether-nullification. For security, of course. Oh?” He smiled back at Geofferaut. “What are the two functions.”

"It doesn't matter. Eradication of a population and eradication of a collection of cadavers. A third is exposure to gangrenous limbs. Does the planned aether nullification interfere with the wards."

Lebeaux tilted his head slightly. “Those functions could prove useful in some situations. Keep them healthy. Does the culture cure the rot or rather remove the limb?” He slid the door closed and gestured for Geoff to follow him. “I suspect it may interfere, yet only when it’s on. I don’t intend to have it running constantly.”

Geofferaut's attention turned to the exit with increasing frequency. "The limb is consumed. The remainder of the subject is consumed as it dies."

Lebeaux quirked a dark brow as Geoff’s glances towards the door grew more frequent. “Hm, that’s not particularly useful. The infection would kill them eventually as well.” Arms folded across his chest as he tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lower lip. “Something the matter, Geofferaut?”

"The subjects report large amounts of pain during the course of treatment. Death is quicker under treatment than if left untreated. I am fine how are you. Subjects behave erratically shortly before and after death." Geofferaut kept one set of fingertips pressed against the cover of his book.

Lebeaux exhaled a quiet chuckle and slid the door open to reveal the clinic area set aside for actual work. If he ever did any. “A blade or a tonic would also make quick work, but I see. What were the behavior patterns.”

"Patterns varied probably depending on exposure site and path of infection and included involuntary movement and violence."

Lebeaux continued tapping his finger lightly against his own lip as he considered that. He lowered his hand to gesture at the clinic area. “Random movement and acts, or were you able to influence them.”

"Subjects responded less to commands over time. Involuntary actions were probably intended to transmit the infection. Subject six successfully infected subject sixteen when subject sixteen entered the room unsupervised."

Lebeaux tilted his head thoughtfully. “Still potentially useful. In the correct situation. Continue to keep them alive and looking into counter-measures. If one is aggressively infectious to the point of influencing the host for the sake of spreading, that would be the one to begin with. If it cannot be contained it may be for the best to dispose of it.” He reached out to pat the doorway of the clinic. “Have you spoken with Rinha’li regarding warding.”

"Oh. Okay. No."

“Do not show him the cultures’ progress but I recommend it. He has been reworking the wardings here that were previously destroyed… he seemed uncomfortable with the idea of aether disruption as well.” He smiled over at Geofferaut. “Considering the insubordination in Amdapor you’ll both understand if I don’t explain the finer workings.”

"I set my own wards. It doesn't matter."

“Do you now.” He mused as he slid the door closed again. “Perhaps I should have told you to do it, then. You’re less likely to work something nasty in, I suspect Rinha’li is still a little miffed over how that all went. Ah!” He smiled sweetly over at the other. “Did you bring me a copy of Ciceroix’s transcript, as I requested. Is that the purpose of the visit.”

"Yes. I don't know. No I do not have a transcript of the tome. No."

Lebeaux pouted briefly. “Ah. I see. Well, there was quite a bit going on during our last discussion. You can’t be blamed for it slipping your mind.” He moved to the other side of the hallway and slid the door open. Not to give the tour of his ‘living’ quarters but to fetch the borrowed shirt and overcoat. Washed, as promised, but never returned.

"I did not forget. I do not have a transcript of the tome."

“Are you unable to make one.” He mused as he folded the articles and held them out to Geofferaut.

Geofferaut took posession of a small bundle of clothing. "Yes."

Lebeaux sniffed in mild disappointment. “Why is that. Have you forgotten the changes you made."

Geofferaut held the clothes in his right arm, left hand still pressed against his book, eyes still drawn to the exit. "The copy is fundamentally altered. No."

Lebeaux inhaled slowly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Why not give me a transcript of the version you have, then.”

"Um." The corner of one eye twitched and seemed to pull his head just a bit to the side. "That is unacceptable."

Lebeaux pouted again before the smile returned and he stepped slightly closer. “What is unacceptable was the destruction of my personal property. The last remaining memento of my mentor. How is it unacceptable that I should have a copy of his work.”

"It is no longer his work."

“No, you’ve bastardized it. Which would make it a collaboration, not entirely yours either.”

"Oh. Okay."

“Quite right, ‘okay’. And therefore.” He continued on. “You’ve no right to deny me a transcript. I’ll expect one within the sennight.”

"Okay. It will not exist."

Lebeaux shook his head and stepped closer. Just near enough to extend his hand as though about to jab his finger against the taller man’s chest. “Wrong. You will make a transcript, near as possible to the original, and it will be waiting for me.”

Geofferaut leaned away stiffly. "Oh. Okay."

Lebeaux followed him slowly with the extended finger, though he still didn’t make contact yet. Inching forwards and Geoff leaned back. “Will you have a transcript ready for me on my next visit, within the sennight.”

"No."

Lebeaux smiled sweetly for a moment. He didn’t poke Geofferaut, but rather reached up to grab the taller man’s chin and turn it to ensure he was looking at Lebeaux rather than the door. “Why not. Make sure it is a /very/ good reason.”

Geofferaut dropped his clothes as his right hand shot up to grip Lebeaux's wrist with unusually strong fingers. "Idonotliketobetouched.Itismine." He pressed the tip of his thumb against the pressure point.

"Idonotliketobetouched.Idonotliketobetouched.”

Lebeaux inhaled sharply, the smile vanishing immediately as his wrist was grabbed and a bony finger dug hard into delicate little bones and nerves. His own fingers immediately splayed wide, releasing Geofferaut’s chin. Dark brows furrowed as he was definitely debating if proving a point was really worth a broken wrist. Again. “I’m not touching you any longer, let go.” Perhaps not, after all.

"IdonotliketobetouchedIdonotliketobetouchedIdonotliketobetouched," Geofferaut repeated, eyes wide and wild. Gradually, his grip loosened enough to break free and his repetitions slowed to a final, "I do not like to be touched."

Lebeaux took a step back as soon as his wrist was freed, rubbing just below his hand and then smoothing his coat and sleeves back into order. Preening himself back to presentable as he watched with well-contained horror as the arcanist’s mantra slowed to be defined words again. “So I’ve noticed.” He sniped as he skulked past Geofferaut to head for the tea tray.

Geofferaut found a soothingly solid pillar to put his back to with a view of the subject and the exits. Geofferaut's chest rose and fell faster and farther than usual and his eyes were wider than usual and his fingers gripped his book harder than usual and he'd momentarily forgotten the clothes on the floor, but he was slowly moving toward equilibrium.

Lebeaux huffed as he poured himself a cup of tea, holding it tightly between both hands. Eyeing the other elezen with a mixture of wariness and petulantly sulking at him as the other still seemed to be in ‘alarm’ state. “If you didn’t drop by for a delivery or to fetch your things, why did you come here.”

"The samples do not perform the desired function. Also the last of the subjects will die within the sennight."

Lebeaux considered that as he took a small sip of the tea. Working on regaining his own equilibrium as he added a splash of brandy to the cup and took another sip. Perfect. “We’re preserving the cultures, even if they don’t perform the intended function. Are you asking me for more subjects.”

"Okay. No the trial has probably accomplished all it can."

“Will the cultures remain alive and active even without host subjects?”

"Um. Yes."

Lebeaux nodded primly. “Very good. Pack it up and preserve them. I’m sure a use will present itself before long. Are you able to store them safely without risk of contamination.”

"Yes."

Lebeaux took a long sip of the tea, still holding the cup tightly. “Alright.” He eyed the arcanist briefly. “You are aware that the project is ours and should I find use of it I will expect you to cooperate. Without the fussing.”

"Okay."

Maureen ducked a curtsy, "Yes, m'Lord, right away. Thank you, m'Lord," and she was off at a brisk walk, just shy of undignified hurry.

Lebeaux waited until she was gone to drop the smile and return to wallowing in self-pity and generally eyeing up the place as they walked through it. “And it’s only your parents and the help here? Must be quiet.” He mused, still leaning on the taller man every other step. They arrived at the staircase and a small wheeze of dismay escaped. Which he quickly swallowed down before he made his way up the stairs, giving Geoff a brief respite as he hung onto the railing. Once they were up the stairs he didn’t protest but allowed himself to sit hard on the bed. “I’ve left my kits and effects behind. I’ll take something for the pain.”

Geofferaut's room was the polar opposite of his more familiar cellar workspace. Cushions and carpets gave it an overall padded feel, and as everywhere in the house, light was already blooming.

Lebeaux’s pale gaze drifted over the room. It was soft and warm. He had assumed it was a guest room or some such. He expected Geofferaut’s room to be an above ground version of his basement. Hard angles, cold materials and flat surfaces. “I’ve already begun treatment on my own, I simply didn’t have the aether to finish it.” He explained. “Surely that counts. Do you keep medical materials in the guest rooms? How unusual.”

"No. No." The apparent scion of a plush-crazed noble house withdrew a tied bundle from his robes and unrolled his medical tools on the desk. He supplemented the collection with herbs and vials pulled various drawers. "You will uncover the wound."

The only visible injury the medic carried was a slice along his cheek. That one has been carefully tended to and sealed with aether to ensure that it would heal without a scar. Lebeaux huffed in annoyance then lifted the edge of the robe up into his lap. The fabric of his trousers had already been cut open where a large piece of debris had been removed from his thigh. This injury hadn’t received near the same attention as the one on his face, only enough to prevent it from bleeding when the item had been removed from his skin. Residual traces indicated rocks and dirt, likely conjury. 

“I’ll have the pain relief before.” Lebeaux insisted again. “I’ve seen your treatment style. And if you said ‘no’, then why are there supplies here.”

Geofferaut paid much more attention to Lebeaux's uncovered thigh than he did to anything else. "Pain response is required to assess the effectiveness of the treatment. I keep supplies in my room." He carefully removed his gloves, laid them folded together on the desk -just so-, and splashed something that reeked of disinfectant on his hands. 

A barely audible tap at the door, followed by an equally soft, "Enter," from Geofferaut brought Maureen back into their lives, this time carrying two pots of water and a stack of clean, white linens. "You will place the water on the floor beside the subject's feet. You will place the towels and bandages on the bed beside the subject. I require nothing else."

Lebeaux huffed indignantly once again and began patting down his robes. He hadn’t brought a flask nor pipe along in case Gilbert chose to search the combatants before the duel. A good idea since the Knight had emptied the rest of his pockets afterwards. Nothing. Not even a basic potion. “I would prefer something before.” He insisted as the gloves were removed. Concern was intensifying. “… Your room?” He repeated in disbelief as he took another look around. “Impossible.” 

It was at that moment that Maureen arrived with the requested items and set about doing as Geoff instructed. “I’ll have tea.” Lebeaux chimed in once Geoff had declared his own needs met.

Maureen did as she was told without a word. Lebeaux's request seemed to catch her off guard. She stood paralyzed for a long moment, wide eyes darting between Lebeaux and Lord Geofferaut's back. She made up her mind and offered Lebeaux a small smile and a duck of her head before bowing out of the room. The door swung shut on silent hinges and latched with hardly a swish of metal against metal.

Geofferaut, for his part, selected a few gleaming tools, several packets of herbs, and a small silver mug with his scarred fingers. These he brought to the subject and arranged himself on the floor next to the rent thigh.

Lebeaux smiled politely in return. He suspected when it came to Geofferaut this was probably one of the least strange things any of the domestic staff had seen. Not to mention the entire ‘sworn to secrecy’ thing that usually came standard in Ishgardian terms of employment. For what that was worth. “She isn’t going to bring tea, is she.” He muttered mostly to himself. “Who arranged your room for you?” He attempted ‘small talk’, as well as that ever worked with Geofferaut, as a bit of distraction as he looked at the items being prepared. As well as the scars on the other’s hands.

"No. Mother."

Lebeaux probably should have expected that. “Refusing me tea is likely considered a violation of basic spoken rights since you won’t allow me pain relief.” He explained in annoyance, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are all of those scars unfinished geometries.” He finally asked, something he had been meaning to poke into after the trip into Amdapor, but he had been busy making his displeasure with the expedition crew clearly known.

"No." While he stared fixedly at Lebeaux's thigh, Geofferaut's hands busied themselves scooping hot water into the mug and sprinkling one of the herb packets into it. It did not take long for the smell of Coerthan tea to fill the air.

Lebeaux blinked a moment when the familiar scent rose, tilting his chin up slightly to ensure he wasn’t imagining it amongst the smell of disinfectants and herbs. Nope, that was definitely tea. “Some are, some are not.” He puzzled. “The ones that are, that you used in the Lost City, did you make them yourself?”

Geoff placed the tea on the bed with a folded towel underneath to provide support lest it sink into the downy cloud of softness. "Yes." Visual exam complete, Geofferaut began to implement the course of treatment. First, the same strong antiseptic was splashed and rubbed onto the affected area, the act of rubbing a bare thigh somehow drained of all intimacy. One of the towels wiped away any loose dirt. Armed with tweezers and scalpel, Geofferaut next set to the task of removing the more stubborn and partially healed debris from the wound.

Lebeaux immediately picked up the mug and the towel to keep from burning his hands as though concerned it would be taken away again. Holding it somewhat protectively up near his chest since his lap was otherwise occupied. Yet for once he didn’t feel the need to make the teasing ‘while you’re down there’ comments. “How thorough, to go so far as the carve spells into your own skin.” He mused, breathing in the smell of the steeping tea. “What were the rest caused by?” He glanced down now, watching with little interest. A furrow of his brows or twitch of an eye here or there as difficult bits of debris were removed, but otherwise calm.

"Blades."

Not an accident or a beast or something like that. “Oh? Who were they caused by, then.” He hissed quietly as a well-embedded shard of rock was removed from the injury then busied himself with a drink of the hot tea. ‘Thank you’ wasn’t really in his vocabulary but at least he had stopped whining in appreciation for the small comfort. Even if it could have used cream and sugar.

"Hello Idristan Agache. It is nice to meet you." Geofferaut recited the line like a child in a play who had been drilled on just those nine words for hours on end.

Idristan gives Lebeaux a scornful look that silently suggested what exactly Lebeaux could do with his tea. He doesn't react at being called an assistant, having apparently decided not to fight that one awhile ago. The name, however, does do the trick. His eyes widen in surprise as he stares at Geofferaut for several moments. Then they narrow as he starts to study Geofferaut hard. His stance has widened slightly, muscles tensing ever so slightly. "A... pleasure, I'm sure," he says, the words sounding extremely forced.

Lebeaux quirked a brow as he waited for the response to that one. Ah, there it was. Idristan did pride himself on being clever didn’t he. Just connected those dots right away, hm. “I did mention that I was enlisting the aid of an expert in my alchemical efforts. Now you’ve met him.” He noted. “Which I suppose would make Geofferaut something of my assistant as well.” He mused cheerfully. “Now you’ve all met. How nice.”

Geofferaut noted the change in stance as well as the six most likely exit routes in case of emergency (ranked several different ways depending on the origin and nature of the threat) as well as the fit of the mens' shoes as well as the wares on display on the shelves. "Oh. Okay."

Idristan finally drags his gaze away from Geofferaut to look at Lebeaux, one brow arched at this. "And he's just fine with that?" he asks, before looking back to Geofferaut. Sizing him up once more. "So he's the one that's been helping you with what you've been working on for me then," he says, his voice a touch flat. "That must be convenient, not having to look hard for an alchemist."

Geofferaut noted Idristan again. Harder. Until he heard the door open and skirted to the side. "Hello Rinha'li Dhavha."

Lebeaux slid over closer to Geofferaut casually. Trying to set his face a little more seriously to make what few similarities there more apparent. It wasn’t working, though. The entire situation was far too amusing. “It’s incredibly convenient. And yes, as he said,” a hand waved lazily towards Idristan. “He suffers from the very condition we’re seeking to treat. He’ll be our subject once we’re ready for live trials.”

Rinha'li Dhavha pokes his head into the door, obviously eager to get started with something. He has a ream of paper bound together with twine in his hands, and a stump of lead tucked behind his ear. His ears swivel around as he sees more faces than he was expecting -- luckily, they are for the most part familiar. "Ah--um--er...hello--Just--just Rin will do, I...um. Other guests?"

"The current subjects are living." Geofferaut corrected flatly.

Idristan was really not sure that he liked how Geofferaut said that, or how he was looking at him. "How... nice for you," he says dryly. He seems rather relieved to find that it's Rin that enters when the door opens, instead of another of Lebeaux's long lost siblings. However, this doesn't last long as he looks sharply back to Geofferaut. "Other subjects?" he repeats, turning it into a question.

“I...is there some kind of...um...meeting?” Rinha’li stuttered.

"Yes. No." Geofferaut answered in order, always in order.

Rinha'li blinks, trying to piece these answers to questions.

Lebeaux lifted his hand to smooth the lapels of his jacket. Well, the gang was all here, huh. “I had some surprise visitors. I assume Geofferaut came by to discuss the gifts I had sent to him. You were invited and Idristan, well he just happened to be lucky enough to meet another Derosiers while passing through.” Yep really lean hard on that same-name.

Rinha'li looks a little surprised. "You sent Mister Geofferaut a gift?" He says this in a tone that suggests he is shocked to hear Lebeaux has given anything to anyone, ever.

Idristan tilts his head slightly to one side, apparently trying to do much the same as Rin. "I see," he says slowly. He seems on the verge of asking more, but is distracted by Lebeaux. "Lucky is perhaps not the word I would have used," he states dryly. From the look on his face, he seems to share Rin's opinion on gifts.

Geofferaut must be Lebeaux's favorite brother.

“I did indeed.” Lebeaux said cheerfully, folding arms across his chest as he all but beamed at the others gathered there. This was incredibly awkward and he was savoring every moment of it. “Rinha’li has been assisting as well, to an extent. Perhaps you’d like to tell them a little more of your condition. They’ve only heard it from me thus far. Surely it’d be worth more straight from the chocobo’s mouth, as it was.” He tilted his head towards the far hallway and his office beyond.

Idristan blinks slowly at that as he looks at Rin, then perhaps relaxes ever so slightly. If Rin was involved, then this couldn't be so bad, right? That didn't mean that he was eager to be trapped in a room with Lebeaux and family, however. He folds his arms, lips twisting downwards into a scowl. "I highly doubt that there's anything more I can tell you that I haven't already," he grumbles.

"I have questions." Geofferaut stated.

The grimoire is old, but not ancient. Perhaps 10-15 years, mistreated for many of them. The leather is weathered and cracked, but not nearly as much so as an item that spent the last year or so at the bottom of a mud puddle should be. It seemed the muck hadn’t touched it at all. The lock latch no longer works. Standard issue for those in service to the Tribunal though someone had taken care to sand or dissolve away those distinguishing embellishments and embossing. There is definitely something -off- about it. The moment the enchanted cloth is unwrapped there’s a brief rippling. Or possibly a bit of dust floating across the eye, hard to tell as it was gone in a blink either way.

Rinha'li carefully opens it up to the first page to see what it contains -- if the previous owner had perhaps left an index, or introduction -- wincing slightly as the leather creaks in his grasp. But, books are sturdier things than many realize, and nothing breaks. "You s-say this was...lying at the bottom of a brackish pond or puddle?" he asks.

There is indeed an index of the standard issue geometries that came with the grimoire. Filling in the first quarter of the book with the same sort of spells one would find in any acanists’ text. The next quarter is home-made theories and accompanying geometries scattered with notes and observations in no discernable order. 

“That’s being generous as to the water content, to call it a puddle or pond. It was mud. A sinkhole, essentially.” Lebeaux glanced over, noting that Geoff had been staring at the tome for longer than he usually stared at anything. “Feel free to have a look as well, I’m sure Rin won’t mind. While you two are doing that, did you bring the contracts I told you to draw up?”

"No." Geofferaut addressed the book.

"Did you draw them up at all?"

"Yes." Geofferaut continued to address the book.

"... Lot of good they're doing sitting in your basement."

“O-oh, I mean, I have a copy of...of a standard client confidentiality agreement on hand at all times... “ Rinha'li offered, obviously distracted wtih the book. He scans the arcanima glyphs for interesting variants, but eagerly ends up flipping to the more experimental sections. Here, he traces his finger over some of the ink, feeling where the quill has dented the paper, leaning closer to see if he can discern the composition of the pigments.  

Geofferaut only breathed because it's an involuntary function of his body. Blinking seemed to have stopped.

“I asked him to draw up a non-disclosure agreement regarding our research. Essentially that no information will be shared with outside parties without the consent of all three of us.” Lebeaux noted. “Technically it should be my decision as I am the one who is organizing this project.” He took a moment to preen the cuffs of his sleeves and let that sink in. “Yet I thought it polite to share the credit since the two of you are doing most of the heavy lifting.”

The spells start in your standard inks, mixtures of heavy metals and a liquid but as they progress they begin to rely solely on blood mixtures from varying sources. Sometimes the same glyph written in several different variations. There was a heavy emphasis on the slow draining of health or vitality from the target in various forms. Restoratives or protective magicks abandoned within the last few chapters. The end of the book was upside down. The original owner had reversed the book to begin taking notes from back to front. It was a lot of nonsense to Lebeaux, punctuated with sketches of towers and walls and terrible attempts at poetry.

Rinha'li's hand rests on the sketches of a long, tall tower with haphazardly placed windows and thin catwalks issuing from it. The artist -- Lebeaux's mentor, presumably -- has attempted to indicate its immense height by surrounding it with dark charcoal scribblings, punctuated by a few hazy cloud shapes. No moon, no stars, and certainly no sun. "...did your mentor, um...c-complain of trouble sleeping? S...strange dreams?" he asks cautiously, not knowing what question will offend.

Lebeaux sniffed and took a sip of his tea. “We weren’t particularly close, you may just call him Ciceroix as I don’t suspect I learned enough from him to actually call him a mentor.” It was just easier than calling him the overzealous inquisitor he used to clean up after. “He seemed distracted, towards the end of our association. Possibly signs of exhaustion, could have been due to trouble sleeping.” Certainly not due to a guilty conscience.

“I know this tower.” Rinha'li says simply. “Have you ever seen it, Mister Lebeaux? Mister Geofferaut?”

"No." Geofferaut replied.

Lebeaux lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I haven’t entered the City. I was outside of the gates but I didn’t go in, nor did I notice any towers. Assuming that it is, actually, Amdapori?”

Rinha'li nods. "W-well...it's...it's quite...it's in the center of the city. It...c-cannot be seen from the outside, even though it's so tall it nearly reaches the sky...I...I d-don't know why, exactly. The white tower. The Sanctum of Dreams."

Lebeaux wrinkled his nose slightly. He reached over, gloved fingers flipping through some of the earlier portions of the grimoire, before the Inquisitor had the clever idea of hiding the crazy in the last pages. Around the same time the arcanima started to get extremely experimental and were mostly marked as failures, there were images embedded in the geometries mirroring the general shapes of the tower. “Sanctum of Dreams. What a pretentious name.” He sniffed. “So you believe he began to dream of this place and that is what finally pushed him over the edge?”

Geofferaut leaned forward when the experimental arcanima began to feature once more.

Rinha'li turns the next page very slowly, to reveal several lines of metrically complex but imaginatively bankrupt attempts at religious poetry framing rough drawings of a series of doors, each marked with an arcanima glyph. Rinha'li closes his eyes, worrying his bottom lip with his fangs at this sight. "I am near convinced," he says. Rinha'li has taken on a hushed, excited tone. He's happy to see this mad scrawling.  

“Didn’t excuse him from running off, but I suspect there’s some merit to what you’re saying.” Lebeaux didn’t particularly care either way. Looking at the book and its images too long was giving him something of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding glasses up and closing his eyes. “He thought he was hearing the ghosts of Amdapor and went trotting off to the Shroud to find some secrets to divine power.”

The scribbled line of marked doors might have passed for some kind of allegory, but as Rin leafs through the next few pages of experimental calculations, it's clear that doors of some kind were on the man's mind. They appear in the margins, as though it was something his mind returned to when idle and flowed out of his pen as unthinking scribbles. "Divine power, yes. Hm. D-divine indeed. I...did he ever t-try any experiments with his arcanima in your presence? Rinha'li's tail sweeps back and forth in wide, quick arcs.

Lebeaux shook his head, still rubbing at his nose. He finally gave up on the glasses, folding them up and tucking them away into his coat. No point to them around these two anyways. “I generally waited outside.” His hands settled on the teacup once again as he smiled primly at the miqo’te. “I offered you a look at the book previously yet I’m no longer feeling particularly inclined to give you further information. Seeing as you seem unable to grasp the concept of keeping your mouth shut.”

Geofferaut speaks under apparent duress, teeth gritted shut, lips barely parted, voice strained. "An. swer..."

Rinha'li's ears tilt towards Geofferaut. "...I-- I b-beg your pardon?"

Lebeaux looked quickly over at Geofferaut, somewhat startled by the reaction. He blinked blankly, the smile stuck in place.

Geofferaut does not rip his eyes off the grimoire. There is still an apparent struggle to form and force out words. "answer. the question."

Lebeaux still looked as though he’d been struck, more than a little surprised and perhaps unsettled. “I…” He started before he straightened up. “You’re no better than him, acting as though you’d throw over our research if Idristan asked for it. If I’m going to speak plainly and truthfully to you two I expect assurances that my words will never be repeated to anyone else.” He set the teacup down and folded his arms across his chest, fingers brushing against the rosary he had tucked away into his jacket.

"speak. child. or move." Seemed to be Geofferaut’s final warning.

Rinha'li opens his mouth to say something -- anything that will get him more information here, most likely -- but is cut off by Geoff's strange outburst. He too looks unsettled. "W--what--" He looks at the book again. He hadn't thought Geoff THAT ravenous to get at it...

“Perhaps just show him the book.” Lebeaux suggested as he shifted slightly along his perch a little closer to Rinha’li and the book. He cleared his throat, assuming that was as good as agreement that this remained between them. “Once or twice, when it got a little messy I was called in while he was still working.” He explained, speaking a little more quickly now as fingers curled around the beads as though they would do much of anything in this situation.

Rinha'li's ears flatten against his head, nearly disappearing into his hair. He seems reluctant to have the book leave his immediate vicinity, but he picks it up with the cloth and holds it out to Geoff with his fingers trembling on the spine. "T...tell me more," he mutters to Lebeaux.

Lebeaux remains well away from the book as its held out in offering, clutching his pear- rosary beads lightly under his coat. The smile had long since disappeared as his gaze darted between the grimoire and the other elezen. “Ciceroix was testing his theories on the accused. He was supposed to be interrogating them but it often turned in to experiments. One of the times I was called in he’d… ah, managed to turn someone inside out. There was nothing to be done for them.”

Geofferaut began the motion toward the book with a few rapid, interrupted jerks that smoothed out by the time the tome was in his hands.  Once possessed, the move to the platform is rapid. His own book fluttered open to a blank page beside it - it happened quickly, possibly without much help from his hands - and a pencil, definitely held with fingers, began scratching copies and copies and copies. Geofferaut seemed unconcerned by the proximity or lack thereof to Lebeaux's seat.

“You are C-CERTAIN he accomplished this with arcanima? D-did you see the formulae he--ah--um!” Rinha’li asked hurriedly.

“I’m not sure. There was no one else in there and I didn’t see any tools he could have used for such a thorough-“ Lebeaux trailed off as the book exchanged hands a bit abruptly, with Geofferaut immediately beginning to copy down the books contents, page by page. “Wait, that may be poorly advised. If this drivel drove him to madness what’s to stop it from doing the same to you.” He noted as he reached for the grimoire.

“The--the g-glyphs within ought n-not t-to be aetherically active unless t-transcribed with--with--active inks--um--”  Rinha'li, notably, has not attempted to transcribe anything into HIS notebook, however.  

Geofferaut 's face smoothed as he transcribed. His eyes remained fixed on Ciceroix's book, drawings left to form unobserved - though few would be surprised to learn that they seemed to form just fine without supervision.

Lebeaux slid the book away from Geofferaut, intending to snap it shut again. “It’s the book itself I’m rather wary of. The Hearer I took it from seemed convinced it’s capable of doing some harm on its own.”

Geofferaut dropped his pencil and flicked the now-vacant hand up to intercept Lebeaux's hand's path. But by golly it wasn't so empty. A gleam of metal stopped just shy of touching the sleeve at Lebeaux's wrist. "I do not require the book. I require the geometries."

Rinha'li has also started forward, intending to take a closer look at the book's binding, but also stops short at the wrist flick. For a moment he just stands there stock still, almost afraid to move. “I...I say, is that really necessary?” Rinha'li says, after a moment.

"Yes." Direct questions should be answered.

Lebeaux froze, fingers splayed but not quite touching the book when he saw the flash of metal. Right, the sleeve steel. “Hm.” Fair enough. Slowly he brought his hands back to himself, settling them in his lap to adjust the cuffs and ruffles. “As you like, then.” Perhaps he’d just let them copy it then. “Feel free to make your own copies.” He suggested to Rin. Lebeaux managed to sound only slightly sulky about the entirely situation rather than outright pouting.

 As quickly as it was there, the metal was gone and the pencil was back in motion.