(1865-08-20) A Start, at the Very Least
A Start, at the Very Least
Summary: While Viscount Romante's party rests from travel at Roseguard Castle, a Lord and Lady have a not-so chance encounter.
Date: Aout 20, 1865
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Raelyn  Anjin  

Galenthia - Ironhold - Roseguard Castle - Library
A room in the castle with a loooot of reading material. Naturally.
Aout 20, 1865

It was Anjin, in the library, with the oak-bound book. Guilty as charged was he, in murdering shelves. If House Cassomir ever needed assistance in making sure their system for literary amusement was improved, they just received it pro bono in the form of Lord Sir Anjin Tekar. Rather than see to pursuits such as recovering from being bruised up almost head to toe, he's instead currently /on/ his toes, wincing as his arm expresses some protest at being raised above his head. Anjin still isn't entirely able to fully move his right side without pain, it seems.

Perhaps it was one of the servants coming to clean and tidy up that expressed some concern as to exactly what Tekar is doing, but the first sight that would hit anyone is the fact he's very carefully, and literally painstakingly, rearranging shelves, by category, by title (where listed), and (where known) by the original author of the work in question. Given that it's his personal interest, historical treatises and the equivalent litter the floor near him in carefully arranged stacks, the first of numerous subjects to be dug through. Holes fill the shelves in other parts of the room as well, from where he had almost absently removed them to join the vertical piles he is currently replacing in even bigger holes in one centralized place.

In other words, he's acting the librarian.

Raelyn has just come from her conversation with Emilia and Jaren, stopped to ensure that she her horse would be rested, and able to move and give assignment to the Huntresses that would going with Kentaire with her, before one of the house servants did, indeed come to her since Jaren was 'locked away', now, in his office, to alert the Lady of the goings-on in the library.

Something odd Anjin may have noticed. Some of the books, though certainly not all, have more brittle pages despite the books seeming to be newer and not exactly old tomes. A few others show touches of burn marks at the edges of the cover, and the pages. But those such are rare, and few between. The majority of the library seems relatively new-ish.

"Sir Tekar," greets the perhaps familiar voice of Raelyn. "Welcome to Ironhold. Can I help you find something in particular?" She gives an apologetic sort of smile. "Our library is not what it once was, I'm afraid."

So engrossed in he in what he was doing - there were times Anjin would stop to carefully consider exactly what he was holding, when brittle pages were concerned; ancient documents are an even higher interest of his - so distracted in his perusal and rearrangement was he, that Anjin almost literally drops what he's doing, on tiptoes with five between his hands as he is.

That good eye goes right to you, when he's settled on his feet again, and there's an almost mildly incredulous cast to his features as though your question and its followup comment were completely out of place.

"No," he replies mildly, a bit too much so, given that he looks significantly at one smaller pile he's accrued in his meandering through what's available, before deciding the whole room needed an experienced and categorical hand. That one word said, his gaze turns a touch more penetrating, and even more censurous than the last interaction with the Lady Cassomir.

"You do not take very good care of things." That, he says as though pronouncing judgment for murder.

"That tends to happen," prompts Raelyn gently, "When your castle burns to the ground. Books are lost. When there was time, we salvaged what we could. It was not much." The woman moves over to where Anjin is, eyeing the stack of books, and she looks about further. "My mother was drawn to reading, literature, history, and stories. I, to the forest. Though I was quite fond of her stories, and her books," admits Raelyn thoughtfully. "Emilia spends the most time here of any of us."

"Scribes should have been called to repair and preserve a number of these. They did not /burn/; they are too old to handle safely." The brittleness of pages was obviously not lost on Anjin Tekar, to the point it had been hard to not start attempting to replicate the words within, concerned that simply exposing them would damage the contents. Nevermind the fact he's actually… talking about it. He stops there, though, the closest to an impassioned speech thus far.

The passion of Anjin's ire is clear to Raelyn, and it tempers her own reaction, "Perhaps," she conceeds. "We were more concerned, and - caught up with our losses, Sir Tekar. I'm certain you've heard what befell our house, in that time." It is, afterall, no secret, and part of Galenthian history. She comments then, "If you can reccomend a Scribe, however, of good quality and caliber, I will be certain to have them called for to do just that." Conceeding that his idea has merit, and willingly so. "I'm certain that my brother would see the wisdom in the expense."

She touches one of the books, thoughtfully, her eyes going down to it. "It is interesting, is it not, how a single event can cause us to have such a - focused vision, that we lose sight of some of the simple joys of life?"

What may be surprising, is in how he grimaces suddenly at your suggestion of him… recommending someone. It's a pulse in his cheek, pulling his mouth to the side and over as soon as it begins. He also apparently has no such recommendation to give, despite the fact his good eye all but scowls at what he was doing, arms folding and silence taking over for a sec.

Your rhetorical question only earns you a look, less subdued than Anjin's previous ire, but still of a more intense nature in that it barely conceals his impatience.

As no further verbal exchange occurs on the other's in the room with her, Raelyn inclines her head, "Then I shall ask Jaren to put forth a call to a scribe of worthy caliber. Perhaps one of the Queen's court may know of one, or the Princess. She's quite fond of reading, and she's promised to help restore our library to it's former glory." She means, of course, Alessa.

"But, while you are our guest, you are certainly welcome to make what use of the library you wish to, Sir Tekar. I can reccomend a few quiet spots, within the Castle, or within the woods if you've a mind for either, whilst you read."

As it would happen, Anjin actually found one or two of those quiet spots. This is not to say he's tried to poke his nose throughout the entire castle, but he has wandered a little, even to the point of poking at the construction mortar used in an out of the way location with his dagger, as though curious how Roseguard Castle had been built.

Still, he at least listens attentively to those comments, but as soon as mention of the woods is given, his lip curls again, in some approximation of mirthless humor. "That is not a good enough apology," he declares, chin rising just a touch.

"You should not make that determination, until you see that which I can take you to," points out Raelyn, without any measure of exasperation, or indeed refuting that an apology is even necessary. She lets that statement settle for a long while, then concludes, "But to each their own." There is a brief smile that touches her lips, before it fades. "I hope it is a start, at the very least."

That statement settled in interesting ways, over the course of that long while. It earns a stare, a startled one for a moment, both of Anjin Tekar's eyes widening faintly before he quite suddenly turns away to busy himself with (carefully) replacing more written works on the shelf. Yet even though he's trying to buy time to compose a response by way of not leaving a mess on the floor, he still can't fully control whatever thought it was that shocked him so in what was said to him.

"I will… think about it." At least he replied, and even then the pause in the midst of his response involved clearing his throat.

"I leave for Kentair mid-morning. It is likely enough that you will be in absence, when I return, though I shall not stay long. I've - a need," she says, without explination, "To participate in the Archery Contest, and intend to do so. Think as you will, and take what time you need. Let me know of your decision, ere I leave if you can and I will hold true my offer. And should such time elapse and my journey take me away ere decision comes to you, the offer will remain open for when you next visit." She lifts her fingers off the book she was touching.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License