#mathye bishop

this man is a priest, everyone.

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A really good example for this one would be @scrollsfromarebornrealm.

I always really enjoy their responses to any asks I send (or that other people send for that matter). It really feels like every small detail about their OCs serves to expand the wider story and further flesh out each, already incredibly well-realised, character.

Augustine in swimwear is an occasional bonus, but I promise it's not the main reason!

Log Entry 59

The Madam Commander has a social calendar once more. This is good.

I cannot help her with that, and that is bad. I am so annoyed!

I am a fairy construct! My Scholar’s extra hand! I used to handle her appointments, set alarums, take notes, help organize her schedule, pop reminders, push updates, and otherwise free her up to do important work! We are a team, and I was her able partner, and now, and NOW, all I can do is look over her shoulder and try to nudge her hand every once in a while when she is writing!

It never works.

She complains about feeling useless, but I actually AM useless! Where is Lav? Maybe I can get her to do the work on my behalf.

She does not even have her glasses. How is she going to keep track of any of this.

Log Entry 59 Addendum

With arcanima. She will keep track with arcanima, of course, she still has her codex. I still wish I could help.

Also she still has the bad habit of setting entirely too many alarums.

Log Entry 61

Madam Archon has looked her over once more. The Chirurgeon has performed tests. The Adept has tried more hands-on techniques. There are still no answers, but they cleared the Madam Commander for more strenuous activity. The Adept has suggested perhaps they can alter their outing to try a few things out, which Madam Commander has agreed to.

I have decided to perform my own investigations. I am a Nymian Fairy construct. We are intelligent beings, and have the knowledge of an entire civilization we can call upon to aid our Scholars.

First, the data. The Madam Commander’s essence yet remains thin. I myself am more than stable. I have a surfeit of aether, but cannot seem to interact meaningfully with the material plane.

I still try to talk to her. And I can sometimes experience what she is experiencing. It is an interesting sensation. She is so large! I do not know how she is not clumsy. And heavy. And big.

Further investigation is needed, I feel.

Long Entry 68

I don’t know how I didn’t notice earlier. But I think… I think the Madam Commander is my new soul well. We are almost like unto one. Which may be why I cannot inhabit the soul armature, nor even the original Scholar stone. She is my anchor, now, and where I go when I rest.

I have always been able to feel what the Madam Commander feels. I am a construct, a familiar, based on an anima spirit. We have always had that connection. But it is changing, somehow. It’s almost like I have special insight now. More than just an impression of her thoughts. More frequently, I can experience her senses.

We are almost like unto one. I … don’t know what this means. For either of us.

Log Entry 72

A ‘spa day’ with the Adept. It was nice! She was nice. The Madam Commander always is brighter, lighter around the Adept. And I got to share those experiences. The smells were so wonderful! And the varieties of soaps. The Adept has long left little care baskets for the Madam Commander, but she went above and beyond today. People who painted, and made her nails and face colorful in new and interesting ways. People who touched, and where they touched, muscles relaxed. Warm baths. Contrasts! A room so hot I was concerned it may be too much, a pool actually at zero celtius.

It was nice. And the Adept gave so much of her attention and time and care. I knew Adepts could be kind people, often helpful to a fault, but the way she paid attention, helped the Madam Commander relax, listened to her babble and smiled and laughed, it was a genuine brightness to the day.

I like her. The Madam Commander likes her as well. Though, weirdly, she also gets a little nervous around her. Increased heart rate, body temperature, tenseness. But it faded as the day went on.

Oh and the smells of being in this city. The patterns of the colors forming a harmonious whole. I am getting increasingly used to being part of the Madam Commander, and if there was a good day for us to integrate more, this was it.

Mind, I have no idea how to do that, but it felt like a good day for it.

Log Entry 75

Alright, we’re starting to get back into it. Picked up a few leves. People are being delicate but encouraging about this, I’ve noticed. The Madam Commander is never allowed alone, which is great. Perfect, actually. A Scholar is at their best when they have people on the field with them. The Leftenent, in particular, is really showing up now.

Log Entry 78

I continue my experimentation, with the Madam Commander’s senses and physical being. With some focus, I think I can bring her closer to me, but this is not useful. I tried to direct her hand to pick up a tea cup today, and instead of picking it up, I think her hand went straight through it.

We both found ourselves looking oddly at our hand. What was that? This warrants further investigation.

Log entry 84

I think I understand. It is difficult to control, but I can, in fact, bring parts of the Madam Commander to me, though I cannot quite get to her. When I do, it is as though neither of us are there for a brief moment.

I do not know what to do with this. I am not sure I trust myself, or her, enough to try to do something useful, like, say, walk through a solid object.

I should let it go. She has expressed concerns about being increasingly clumsy to the Chirurgeon. He almost took her off duty, which neither of us want.

She likes him. I know she is courting him. But there is also a distance there, and some sort of light confusion. I usually stay out of her relationships. I guess I am staying out of this one too, due to my situation.

I hope she figures this one out or something.

Log Entry 102

The Madam Commander is visiting a place known as Aloalo Island and we are doing research into arcanima and I refuse to finish this log entry I would like to note I have been very patiently making my observations and waiting for something to change for some time now but this is not what I am for I am supposed to be DOING THINGS

WE ARE VISITING THE HOME OF A PRECURSOR CIVILISATION TO ARCANIMA AND I AM USELESS

I VERY MUCH AM TIRED OF THIS AND WANT TO DO SOMETHING.

Log Entry 102 Addendum

I did not mean to put our foot through the dock and send us into the water. But, uh, I can shift parts of her even if I do not intend to, so… that is good to know, I guess?

Almost lost the codex on this one. I must be more careful.

Log Entry 107

New armaments. Replacement chakrams. The Savant thinks she is ready for more strenuous training. And something else as well. A gunblade. An ingenious device, it is a sword with energy capacitance reservoirs that can be triggered by a clever fuse mechanism. The charges can be varied to have different effects. Many of hers have ceruleum - apparently those are easy to find - and others have aether with arcanima or spellworks from other disciplines.

The Madam Archon and the Scout came by to help her with it. The Marine was present as well. Some of the Crystalficer’s work was referred to to help make components for the gunblade, as well as some of its charges. That she has been gone so long is now starting to be worrisome to the Madam Commander.

As is the absence of the Assistant, which I had wondered at myself, but the Madam Archon suggested that he was fine. I’m not sure I agree. The Assistant, as I recall, seemed to need to be regularly rescued or retrieved from some trouble or another. Good at artifact identification and proofing! Lousy at adventuring! That is why the Madam Archon worries after him.

Hmph. I’d tell her to go look for him anyroad, if I could.

Log Entry 107 addendum

After they were done in the workshop the Madam Commander and the Madam Archon went for a walk and I just can NOT with them anymore oh just DROWN me in the depths of the Azure they are so STUPID for one another!

As though it could not be more obvious!

I know, I know, I’m biased since they both made me and I’m connected to them both so of course I think they are both connected to each other but even though I am a FAMILIAR, I am just a construct, I can TELL. How can anyone not tell!? The feelings! THE DEPTHS OF THESE FEELINGS my thread always gets SATURATED when the Madam Commander lets herself ACTUALLY FEEL THINGS and I want it on the record that THESE FEELINGS ARE TOO MUCH I am going to die my essence is going to get blown out like a tiny mote of fire in front of the gale of THESE LOOKS THEY GIVE ONE ANOTHER and CAN YOU NOT SEE WHAT I SEE MADAM COMMANDER LOOK AT HER SHE IS PRACTICALLY GLOWING THE LIGHT OF THE AZURE IS SHINING AND ALL THE LIGHTS ARE ON HER PLEASE JUST DO SOMETHING.

this is not my place this is not my place fairies do not interfere with relationships were are assistants we plan meetings and execute strategies and keep our Scholars safe and we heal them and we heal their charges and none of this is my problem and why can nothing be simple or easy around here

Log 107 addendum addendum

OH I THINK SHE FINALLY NOTICED ALL HAIL

Log 107 addendum addendum addendum

Oh shit the Chrirugeon please do not think about the Chirurgeon no no no no no I can feel that guilt welling up shit okay alright I can get you through this I have a strategy for the Chirurgeon it will be alright.

I do not have a strategy for the Chirurgeon

I am suddenly extremely grateful I cannot get involved in any of this shit.

Alright. I trust the Madam Commander. She will handle this with poise, grace, and her usual excellence.

~*~

Mathye was in the company library, gathering the research materials he wanted to prepare for Gage’s next big idea of trying to expand company operations to new continents. Now that things had calmed down at home, it was time to explore, but before anyone could go anywhere, Mathye was going to personally see to it they were all medically prepared.

That meant workups for vaccines, and that meant research into diseases.

He grumbled, picking up another book to consider. He was going to be busy for a while. He heard the door to the library open, but paid it little mind.

“Mathye! What brings you here?”

He snapped his gaze over at the newcomer, taking a step back.

“Oh - Zoi!” he said.

“I, ah, I did not expect to see you down here,” Zoissette said, stammering as she spoke. “Up here? Over here. Right.”

Mathye felt more than a bit sheepish. He’d been so wrapped up in his work that he had not been checking in on Zoissette, not as a patient, but as a girlfriend.

He set his book down on the already considerable pile. Fully reviewing it could wait until later. "I saw on the roster you took on more missions. Are you feeling stronger, then?" he asked.

Zoissette’s face seemed unable to decide what to settle on. He ignored that. She’d been through a lot.

"Uhm. Yes. Probably. No, wait. Sorry. Yes. Nothing too strenuous I assure you, and never alone,” said Zoissette.

He smiled. "That's good.  And…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for the legal paperwork getting me out. Though I just found out I'm stuck with community service."

“Of course. Literally the least I could do. Actually literally. It - well, I would rather handle that than the new counsel. At least for a little while longer. As for the community service, well, you -did- sedate a scientist, Mathye.”

"She was practically manic!" he protested. "I did a public service!"

"The public,” said Zoissette, her tone dry as Thanalan,  “apparently disagreed. Maybe ask next time."

"I couldn't help myself. It was instinct. Do you know how many morons I've had to send off to dreamland because they were just one egg away from completely cracking?"

"Dragoons are -different-, Mathye!"

"I've done it to Riven and the others too!"

"People you know are dif- wait. Lady Fortemps?"

"She's a Limsan arcanist.  Do you know how many of that lot like to test how long they can stay awake for and not eat while they're researching? I had to jump to Radz-at-Han the other day and drag her away from that bloody island they're all losing their minds over,” he continued, rapidly letting his frustrations at his friends out. "And no, I do not hit her upside the head. The Sleep spell does that for me. All bets are off on the others though."

He noticed a flicker of guilt cross her face at the mention of arcanists and their habits, and he stopped ranting long enough to take an inhale, go over, and give her a gentle peck on the cheek.

"However,” he said, somewhat calmer, “I will apologize - I've been an ass and not asked you to do anything."

Zoissette was mumbling to herself. “I mean, to be fair, someone trained in the Nymian arts should know the Expedient-class of stimulants…. oh!" she said, surprised at the peck.

Mathye looked over at his books, then back to Zoissette. "Do you want to get a late supper somewhere?  Everyone's busy so we wouldn't have eavesdroppers."

She seemed to be lost again, her eyebrows knitting themselves as she leaned close, her eyes studying his face intently, and nodding to herself. Mathye tilted his head at her.

“Is everything alright?”

“I have no idea!” she said cheerfully.

Even for her, that was unusual. Mathye found himself blinking at her, feeling a bit confused. “You… have no idea?”

Zoissette shook her head. "Sorry. That was - I have been doing that a lot lately. Just - uhm. What would you say…? Right. Not thinking before I speak. Dinner, you said?"

He nodded at her a bit. “Aye, dinner. “Maybe…” he could feel a tension in his gut, threatening to pull his courage down before he could fully muster it. He fought past it, reaching out to take one of Zoissette’s hands and holding it gently between his own. “Could catch a late theater showing somewhere…”

She was still looking at him, quizzically. Or perhaps thoughtfully. She closed one eye, and he watched as the other danced the direction of its gaze around the room. And then she reached out towards his face.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

He let go of her hand in surprise.

“Sorry. If that was too forward, slap me,” he replied.

Zoissette took a step back. “What? No! I am asking if I am being too forward. I - I do not slap people, Mathye!”

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “I mean, unless you wanted me to.”

He shook his head. This conversation was getting increasingly perplexing. “You’re not being forward. If anything - you seem nervous. Do you just want to eat in? I can get takeout.”

“Takeout might be nice. Am I nervous?”

“I have never seen one eyeball dance around the room while the other eye’s shut.”

At that, she closed the other eye, and he watched as she repeated her performance from earlier, just with the opposite eyes.

“Oh. Maybe I am nervous,” she said.

Now Mathye was concerned.

"…What's wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen today? Or on a mission?"

She shook her head again. "No, nothing like that. I just - here. I want to try something."

He blinked at her. “Okay.”

"Just  - pull back if this is too much - or slap me, I guess, if that is where we are at. Okay? You ready?"

Mathye took a deep breath in, having no idea what she could possibly have in mind. But, well.

“Ready,” he said.

Zoissette’s hands were mere ilms from his face. He watched as she balled them up into fists, biting her lower lip, and glancing off to either side. He tensed, wondering if this was how he was going to get punched. But then, slowly, carefully, as though he was made of delicate glass, she took his face into her hands, warm fingers just gently touching his skin. And then she leaned in, and gave him a kiss. It was as pleasant as it was unexpected, her lips pressing in, a deeper kiss than he could have possibly guessed at.

He startled, but did not pull away, and instead fought to remain steady. It took long seconds for him to respond as his brain caught up to the current reality, but he did respond, returning the kiss as sweetly as he knew how. He was rusty at this sort of thing, but despite that, he put his feeling into it, even as he kept his hands to himself. A true gentleman for a true lady.

They stayed there for some time, before Zoissette pulled back, keeping his face held gently in her hands. She was doing that thing again with her eyes, gaze darting all over as she seemed to be trying to memorize every little detail of his face, a frown creasing her forehead.

Mathye just blinked at her, unsure of where to take things next.

Her frown deepened, and she seemed to perhaps be searching for something. And not finding it.

Mathye contented himself with just watching and waiting.

Finally, however, she let go of his face. As she did so, she looked up to the ceiling, and made a frustrated noise.

He felt tension rising up within him. “What’s wrong?”

"Me, as usual,” she said. “Halone, I hope you are not watching just now."

He looked at her quizzically as she continued, her face shifting rapidly through expressions as she fretted her hands.

"I do not know how to explain. Or maybe I do and I do not want to. There was… nothing there. It was warm. You are nice. There is supposed to be - what? Sparks and flash, levin and flesh and warmth and - “

Mathye reached out and took her hands in his again. “Zoissette."  He said, gently, but firmly.

Zoissette made a frustrated noise, but she looked at him again. Her facial expressions calmed down, seeming to settle into something that may have been a smile if it had stopped at some point. Instead she overshot into some kind of pained rictus expression, teeth all exposed and eyes too wide to be comfortable.

He was going to try to say something comforting, but “what the fuck” is what came out instead at that particular display.

Her face fell, and she began to fret her hands around his. He tried to recover.

“Zoi? What is it?” he said, pulling his hands free and lifting one to her cheek.

She stilled. And when she spoke next, her voice was quiet, and he had to strain to hear.

"I think I -want- to love you,” she said. “I think I -might- love someone else.”

He felt his heart plummet, and his mind scattered as his stomach grew cold.

“I think I have no idea what love actually is though,” she said. “And I think I am somewhat past pattern at trying and failing at it. And - and I want to say you deserve better.“

There was a heat building in her voice. Anger. She seemed to be talking to herself, but Mathye was not sure he was still listening, not really. He suddenly felt distant. Away. “But that makes it seem like it is your fault. The fault is mine. I know not where. I think I wanted our relationship to work. Love grows where the work happens, right? So why is it not working."

He blinked. He blinked, again. Trying to get some kind of bearing on the situation.

“Wait. What?” he said, just barely controlling his voice.

“I am not making sense, am I?” said Zoissette. “I can tell.”

He swallowed down his feelings. Just for a moment. He needed to make sure he was certain of this moment. "You said you might… love someone else."

She tilted her head at him, and looked upwards again, frowning, thinking.

"Yes? Maybe?” she said. “I… think so? Fury forfend, it has never -happened- before."

He felt his whole world go still, and he fell quiet. From a million malms away, he could hear her voice.

"…you still want to get takeout?" she was asking.

He inhaled. Just a little bit of life. Just enough to get him through the next minute or so. He shook his head at her, gently taking her hands.

“No takeout,” he said. “Don’t worry about me… or us, anymore. This other person. Do they make you happy?”

Just the next minute or so.

And then, truth. He could see it, plain on her face. A small, little smile dancing across it before she had time to shake her head and take a palm to wipe it away, shaking it off, but it was there.

"Yes, but that hardly seems relevant,” she said. “No, what am I saying, that is very relevant. No, what am I - how do you people DO this."

He had to let go. Or else he was going to drag them both down. He had to let go.

"It's fine, Zoissette.  You don't have to see me anymore,” he said.

Zoissette pouted. A pitiable display. If only…

His voice was quiet. Too quiet, as he put a smile on his face. "Go be happy with that other person."

He had to let go. And so, squeezing her hands one last time, he did, releasing her hands even as he released his heart. He looked at her face just long enough to see her studying him again, perplexed.

Well, that was no problem of his anymore. He turned, going back to his book pile. He would need to take them with him.

"…I do not know if the feeling is reciprocated,” she said from behind him.

"Haven't you spent enough of your life forcing yourself to do things?" he said. Keeping his voice quiet kept any venom out of it, kept it from being a jab. He would be kind, at this juncture. It was all he had for her now. “I would suggest you go and find out.”

He put some few books back.

“…Mathye?”

He did not turn. “Yes?”

"…you deserve the world. I wish I - I wish I might have been the one to give it to you. I … am going to link Riven and ask her to bring you some food."

The rest of the books would come with him, then. “No need to do that. I'm leaving,” he said, still quiet, still small. "There's some more research I need to pick up by the Conjurer's Guild."

"Well… if you say so,” she said. Her voice was no louder than his.  “… good night, Mathye."

Mathye swept a hand up to put his bangs in his face. There was no need for her to see him. He was not certain he could face her.

“Good night, Zoissette,” he said, taking his books and sweeping past her, out of the library, and into the rest of his life. As he left, he felt himself turn to ice inside.

~*~

Log Entry 112

A Desertwalkers Tale

Investigations | Part One

The deputy and the doctor (evidently the deputy’s brother) were hissing at each other in low tones and felt very far away. Hephaistos looked down at his granddaughter and struggled to connect the freshly changed bandages on her torso and down one arm, with the young woman who decided to throw aside her hard won masters to play at being a hero in the dust. She looked small on a bed that was long enough for the tallest likely patient. On a small stand next to the bed he saw Bel’s grimoire. He absently touched the chains and phoenix feathers which glowed like sleepy embers against his skin. Hephaistos had sent his old grimoire with her when she’d gone across the salt and she’d carefully added her own spells to the blank pages in the back. 

It did not seem to have served her well here. 

“What happened to her?”

Confused a bit, cuz aren't they friends as well as coworkers? Once she lets her brain catch up thirty seconds later to "Oh, interested! Uh. I dunno; I've never been good at figuring that kinda thing out. I know he's nicer to you than most other people, even Riven and his brother, so um. May have to corner him and ask him.

"...Wait, do not take me literally about the cornering, Zoissette, I mean like, sit down at lunch or something. In public somewhere for some privacy maybe but not where there can be a scene, y'know?