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abraxaslogs2023-12-06 09:31 pm
OPEN DECEMBER CATCH-ALL
When: December
Where: All over the place
What: Research, fey bullshit, sweating about sex toys, building in the Horizon, and more!
Warnings: Sex shop talk
β¨ FEY FANCIES β’ THORNE.
Urianger's personal research has taken a detour away from the celestial of late. While he still spends a good deal of his time in the Astronomy Department the keen-eyed might have noticed a change in his reading material: where up until recently he could usually be found hauling around tomes detailing the structure of the Heavens, he seems to have developed a sudden academic interest in all things Fey.
He has been concerned about the wellbeing of the Feywilds ever since the attack of the Anomalous Beasts, and while he understands their caution towards Thorne and their displeasure with their shared past, he would at the very least like to find a way to reach out and enquire as to their well-being.
Like most things worth doing, it is easier said than done. Urianger believes in the kernel of truth at the centre of folk tales as strongly as he believes in magic, in scientific method, and so he finds himself combing through all manner of mythology in his methodical attempts to make contact with the Fey. Perhaps you'll encounte him pouring over what look to be children's fairytales in Thorne's library, taking a basket laden with bones and berries out to the edge of the forest, or even combing the more rural areas surrounding Nott and Borrel for evidence of fairy rings.
Oh, and if you catch him in the local apothecary eyeing up what look to be trance-inducing mushrooms? Prithee avert thine eyes. It is absolutely just to rule it out as an option!
β¨ STARRY-EYED β’ THORNE.
At first, Urianger had been a little hesitant to take up a teaching role with Thorne's astronomers. He has always considered himself a scholar and researcher before anything else; for the most part he's lived a life beneath hooded robes and behind walls of books in his attempts to go unnoticed. Without Moenbryda prising him out of his comfort zone he suspects he'd have lived quite a shy, dull life β but then he became part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, met the brightly burning spark that is Himeka, and lost the person who, in hindsight, had taken up residence in his heart.
Moenbryda would have wanted him to take more risks β to share his knowledge with those eager to learn as opposed to simply dropping impromptu lectures upon the disinterested (Thancred). Urianger considers Allegra's offer for several days before agreeing to start off at one day a week, and is pleasantly surprised by the interest the students seem to take in his lectures on the Heavens.
Perhaps it's his own passion for all things celestial, perhaps it's the enthusiasm of the students, but as he settles into the role he begins to truly flourish in the role. His lectures are open to all with an interest in turning their gaze skyward; it's introductory level, for the most part, however he is happy to take an aspring astromancer of any level under his wing!
β¨ (18+) SEXUAL HEALING β’ NOTT.
At some point in the future, Urianger might confess that upon his first glance of Thy Kingdom Come he wasn't entirely sure what was looking looking at. He's spent enough time in Nott that he likes to think he has a relatively good knowledge of the place: the shops, the people, the general ebb and flow of life outside the walls of Castle Thorne. What he hadn't seen was the brightly coloured, brightly glittering shop with its magical sinage and extravagant window displays, all of which seems to be advertisingβ
Cocks. Cocks in all shapes, sizes, widths, and colours, alongside harnesses, straps, paddles, and all manner of other such intimate ... paraphernalia? The tips of his ears burn red with embarrassment as he stands stock still outside the place, his expression shifting from wide-eyed surprise to something more strained as he curls a hand in front of his mouth in thought.
Well. "Thought" β in truth he feels his head has never been emptier, if only because he has no idea how he's supposed to react to having stumbled across such a place. Urianger can't deny his curiosity: he is inexperienced, yes, but he would no longer really describe himself as a prude, and as he's grown more comfortable in who he is he finds it easier to think about such things.
Perhaps that's the root of the problem. Urianger has thought about such things on his own β kept it all to the limits of his own mind β but now he's being faced with it here, outside, where he might feasibly make some kind of choice or act on a strange new hint of desire. It's all a bit much, really, which is the only explanation as to why he seems so still and so focused on what must be a cock fashioned after some kind of giant reptile.
Someone help him. Please.
β¨ INTERIOR DECOR β’ HORIZON.
In hindsight, Urianger supposes it's quite telling that it's taken him this long to put his imagination to use in the Horizon. He had been so very pleased with his recreations of Il Mheg, The Great Gubal Library, and The Last Stand β it was a small pocket of home that he could share with Thancred and Himeka as well as his new companions, and has offered him hours of comfort in familiar surroundings when the politics of Thorne becomes too stifling.
It wasn't until Astarion's blunt comment about it not being real that he stopped to consider what he's done: he has recreated some dear memories, yes, but he he hasn't allowed himself to foster new ones. There is no reflection of the person he's become in his own personal space, and he has decided that's something he'd like to change.
The process isn't quick, by any means. Urianger spends extended periods of time in the Horizon trying out different styles, sizes, colour schemes, and often finds himself caught between the Fae influence of Il Mheg and the dark elegance of an academic environment. Over time, though, his personal corner begins to take shape, until he finds he's crafted a soft, glittering corner of consciousness that speaks to who he is as both an astrologian and a person.
Pleased with his handiwork, Urianger conjures a carafe of sweet wine and pours himself a cup as he takes a final sweep through the star-studded halls. The Twelve only know what kind of impossible corners he might have accidentally created while sculpting gilded ceilings from his imagination; better to smooth out any jagged edges now, rather than finding a visitor trapped in there at some point in the future.
β¨ WILDCARD + OOC CONTACT.
Or let's go with something else! Feel free to DM me to hash something out, hit me up on Discord @ horrology, or ping me on Plurk at
horrology to discuss ideas more in depth!
starry eyed.
Perhaps using Narkina 5 isn't the best example, but at least he'd had something to do there. Something to focus on and keep his mind busy while his body proceeded to work on autopilot shift after shift in order to see that plan through. This feels far more like being on Niamos. He knows he's under the watchful eye of a governing body he neither trusts nor cares for - but without understanding the intricates of a place he considers a stopping point until he can return to his galaxy, he's left twiddling his thumbs.
Perhaps that's why he finds himself participating in a class he may never otherwise have taken part in. Staring up at the inky sky, learning this world's stars, is at least something to occupy his mind. Something to do so he can distract himself from the fact that he feels incredibly over his head with each passing day. He doesn't realize that today's lesson has even concluded so lost in his own thoughts.
no subject
Urianger watches the class file out with a sense of satisfaction sitting high in his chest. While he has always enjoyed lecturing Thancred about the Heavens it is extremely rewarding to have an audience that wants to engage with the theories β who want to share their thoughts and ideas with him β and it feels somehow ... warming, to know that the people leaving the small classroom might take their thoughts and build something more on them.
He will have to thank Professor Nightwyn for suggesting the role next time he sees her in the department.
He's taking a moment to return to his desk and gather his things when he notices that the room isn't quite empty. A man sits among the deserted desks with a pensive look upon his face; Urianger can't quite tell where his thoughts have led him to, but they don't necessarily seem to be in the room. He pauses a moment, puts down his papers, and glides just a little closer:
"Prithee forgive mine interruption, but is all well?"
Urianger tilts his head, a polite smile touching the corners of his lips.
"The lesson hath ended for the day."
no subject
There's a beat's hesitation before his lips lift in a similar fashion - politely, but with a hint of sheepishness - that lingers there for a moment before it falls as he dips his head to scratch at the back of his head.Β
"Ah, sorry," he starts. "I got distracted trying to figure out which star was which. I kept getting them mixed up." Shockingly he had taken scrawled notes in the notebook provided to them. His gaze raises up towards the taller, lithe instructor before flitting upwards towards the inky blackness above them. "It goes without saying but they're different than the ones from my galaxy."Β
no subject
Urianger merely shakes his head as his smile warms around the edges.
"Thine apology is unnecessary," he replies, moving around the desk so that he can take the seat next to him. It's better than looming, if nothing else. "I recall my first lessons on the Abraxan star systems as if they were yesterday β as well as what a fool I made of myself in the face of the professors. In some ways, prior knowledge of the Heavens puts one on the back-foot when transported to a new realm."
In short: the man's struggle is both common and relatable. Urianger glances down to the chaos of his notes before looking up to him again:
"Thou art on familiar footing among the stars?"
Which is Ancient Sorcer-speak for 'did you study the stars in your own world'?
no subject
He'd always been too much trouble for school β Maarva and Clem had been called in on more than one occasion because he'd gotten into some sort of fistfight or mischief β but he was brilliant in his studies, soaking up information like a sponge once he got the hang of a language other than his mother tongue. This felt akin to that. This applying not just to an unfamiliar star system but also to this world.Β
"I was a pilot," he starts, uncertain if that word has context here or wherever it is this man has come from before adding, "so not formally. It was more for navigational purposes than...spiritual."Β
no subject
Urianger is not immune to flattery, and the tips of his ears warm through with pink even as he shakes his head just a little.
"Nay, I am simply ... enthusiastic, in my research. It has leant itself well to teaching the basics to new students of the stars," he replies, making a vague gesture to the classroom. "And in truth, having a room filled expectant faces looking toward me for guidance only encourages me to work harder, that I might be a better guide."
He looks impressed when Cassian reveals that he is β was? β a pilot. While airships have long been used on Hydaelyn, Urianger recently took his first trip on a craft that could traverse the deepest depths of space, however he is still very new to the concept of interstellar travel. As such, he can't help but ask:
"A pilot ... whose travels took thou beyond the confines of thy home world?"
That's certainly what he's inferring from the man's response, but there's no harm in checking!
no subject
"It comes across in your teaching. The enthusiasm and willingness to teach, that is. It's supposed to be a sign of a good teacher."Β
Urianger's expression shifts and this time it's Cassian's turn to shift in his seat. Being a pilot isn't something everyone is able to do, and it's another thing to be a good pilot. He isn't about to go extolling his skills, but he knows he can trust himself to get him out of a bad situation. He takes a beat before nodding.Β
"Yes, when I could get my hands on a ship. Or if someone needed me to pilot one." His lifestyle and penchant for debt hadn't exactly meant that he had one of his own but he'd done enough wheedling and learning how to fix them by taking them apart that made him a valuable asset to a team.Β "You're familiar with space travel then?"
no subject
Honestly? Urianger has never had such direct feedback from a student before β nor from anyone he's accidentally fallen into lecturing on the subjects he finds interesting. It warms him through to know that someone thinks he's doing well β that Cassian would go so far as to call him a good teacher β and instead of shying away from it? Urianger accepts the praise to his breast so that he might call on it later, should he find himself struggling.
"Thou art most kind to say so," he says warmly, as he watches Cassian shift in his seat. The man seems almost hesitant to reply to his question, and Urianger is on the verge of telling him he needn't reveal anything he doesn't want to when he speaks up again.
A pilot? Urianger looks impressed, and he can't help but lean in a smidge closer as if it'll somehow help him to absorb whatever Cassian might say on the matter.
"Unfortunately I could not call myself 'familiar.' While it is true that I have travelled to the very edge of the Universe itself, that was my first and last foray into space-faring by ship." A beat. "But it was a way to make a living, for thee?"
no subject
As Urianger leans a little closer, there's the sudden urge to move away. He preferred his personal space, if only because he never knew what someone was going to do when they got closer. It's just his nerves on end, he realizes, still not used to the fact that any of this is his lived reality now, the instinct of flight or fight ingrained him after all these years. Urianger's interest in the mean time is enough to make that sheepish feeling grow.
Piloting professionally hadn't ever been a profession he strived for and typically wasn't in the realm of possibility for him. Not in Ferrix. Not when there was usually one way to go about earning money and that was salving parts and technology which would never have been enough for him to keep supporting Maarva or find his sister. Which is probably when the thievery had come into play. Not that Urianger needed to know that.Β
Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his head, "No, not in the way I wanted to." At least this sliver of truth is something he can offer the earnest man. "I grew up learning how to salvage parts, clean them, and put things back together. Piloting was just something that developed alongside it. It was another skill to have under my belt."Β For him to get away and fast if he needed to so that he didn't have to rely on others.
So sorry for the lateness! December do be like that 8')
Fortunately for Cassian, Urianger is insightful enough to notice when he's overstepping in some way. He settles back a moment later, his smile curving into something briefly apologetic as their conversation continues:
"I see. So, an informally trained engineer with a head for learning new skills," he sums up, his tone thoughtful around the edges as he observes the other man. It doesn't take an Archon to be able to read between the lines: it seems as though Cassian grew up in the kind of situation that led more to sifting through parts than sitting down in a classroom, which likely places him somewhere closer to Thancred than to Urianger himself.
Perhaps that's why he chose to attend Urianger's lesson? Who's to say.
"If thou art willing, I would be most interested to hear tell of thine experiences of both salvaging and piloting. I ... there is much I am eager to learn from the people I have met here. These lessons of the stars," Urianger makes a vague gesture to the surrounding classroom, "I consider to be mine offering in return."
don't you worry!!
Pilot, engineer - none of those words had ever been used to describe him. Nor has he had people interested in eitherΒ of his not quite professions. That is, not unless they were trying to pin him for some kind of crime that he may or may not have committed or needed him for a skill that he'd happened to acquire in passing. But he's committed nothing of the sort here and Urianger had just met him which means Urianger's interest is simply that.Β
Which is what makes this somewhat baffling. The laugh he gives him is a kind, if not confused one. "I'm not sure that I would call talking about what I've learned the same as what you're teaching us." But it's not a no. After a beat he continues, "But what would you want to know?"Β
no subject
"Well, I am most curious as to how the ships of thy world manage the harshness of space travel. The design of the ship upon which I travelled was passed to my people's greatest scientists from beyond the stars β 'twas not something of which we were yet capable, on our own."
The building of the Ragnarok had been one of Sharlayan's greatest secrets, as had the source of the schematics. Urianger is thankful that now, in the aftermath, the Loporrits are able to receive the recognition they deserve.
"Yet the way thou speakest of it, interstellar travel seems positively commonplace. Is that the case?"
no subject
Interest sparks in Cassian's gaze at the mention of those from beyond the stars. In some ways he could relate to not knowing what life was like beyond your own planet. Kenari had been the world to him. The children had known about these giant metal constructs, had known that they had to come from somewhere, but had never had the means to explore. Perhaps it was for the best, that. He isn't certain they would have survived. Or if they did, it might have very well led them to a similar fate to the one that they'd met. But at least they would have known their world was vaster than they ever could have imagined.Β
It's a bittersweet thought, one that he knows is almost fruitless to have in hindsight, but one that still crosses his mind now and then.Β
"It's common but it isn't cheap. Some never make it off their planetΒ if they never have the means." Or the guts to find other ways to sneak onto a ship.Β
no subject
Urianger listens, his attention rapt as Cassian explains what he can only imagine must be the very basics of how the ships take flight among the stars. He hadn't been blessed with the luxury of time when preparations were being made upon the Ragnarok; the threat of the Final Days meant that each and every one of them had to commit body and soul to their own tasks, and so the engineers of the starship had gone unquestioned.
At the mention of cost, at least, Urianger can nod his understanding.
"'Tis the way of it upon every world, or so it would seem. Upon my home Star there are many would will never explore beyond the locale into which they are born β to travel far afield is often the realm of those with significant financial backing."
An unfortunate truth of life, or so it would seem. Urianger is pondering as much when it occurs to him that the classroom will likely be needed sooner rather than later, and so he sits up a little straighter as he tilts his head in question.
"Forgive me, thine explanation hath fascinated me to distraction. This room will be needed soon enough β might I invite thee to join me in a cup of tea at the Winking Cauldron? 'Tis not far from here, and their cakes are exceptional."
i think we can wrap here? π
Urianger surprises him again, as if he hadn't quite expected the invitation at all. People didn't usually invite him to things, mostly for the simple fact that he unintentionally made it difficult for them to. He's never been grounded in one place for long because there was always another job, another reason to leave Ferrix whether that was finding a way to earn coin for Maarva's medicine or chasing down another lead that could potentially lead to him finding his sister. But where else is there for him to go here in Thorne where his freedoms are just on the other side of a gilded cage?
He can just imagine Maarva rolling her eyes and telling him to go to tea with the nice man. Not everything was so dire and gloom as he was making it out to be. And like he said, where else was he going to go? It takes him a beat but he nods, lips lifting slightly. "As long as it won't get you in trouble for playing favourites. I'll try to make the explanation interesting."
fey fancies / forest
He's been keeping an Urianger's business to some degree, putting together the pieces before he decided to track him down.
"It's likely more dangerous than if you started doing rituals for the gods." Thorne's view on High Magic is one thing, but Thorne's relationship with the fey is dangerous. Or rather, the Summoned seeking communication with them is dangerous.
no subject
Honestly? Urianger hadn't noticed he was being followed out into the wilds β but then Lucifer has always given the impression of a person who is vbery good at going unnoticed when need be. He's something of a percher, from what Urianger has seen, preferring to skulk in the shadows where others might bask in the attention, and so he decides that it probably isn't his own lack of perception that's to blame for missing him. Some people are simply too good.
"Ahβ Lucifer," he replies, as surprise tenses up his shoulders before draining out of them again. Urianger glances to the basket of berries and bones and turns his body in an attempt to put it out of sight:
"And if I were to say I was simply ... composting, in as ecologically friendly a manner as possible?"
He raises an eyebrow, curious. Just how much does Lucifer know?
no subject
Even if it's to an ally.
"Composting this far out is a bit on the strange side," he allows.
Lucifer doesn't actually know much. Little tidbits here and there. Stories as much as reality, as is his world. For monsters, for fey, for the angels. Fact and fiction all wound up together, and typically more pieces that he gets similarly to overhearing versus his own experience.
no subject
Lucifer isn't wrong β in fact, Urianger might even go so far as to say that he's right. It is a bit on the strange side, and the organic matter he's brought with him seems just a little bit too specific to back up the half-hearted claim.
... Hardly a claim, really. More of a suggestion.
He holds Lucifer's gaze for a moment longer before sagging into a little sigh:
"Thou art most perceptive," he begins, touch his free hand to the basket in indication. "But I can assure thee, 'tis not mine intent to summon anything so fearsome as a god. Indeed, I suspect little will come of mine experiment ..."
And yet there's a spark of something in those golden eyes that evidently hopes he'll prove himself wrong.
omg this is so old /)_(\ feel free to leave it
"But I do like a little danger, can't help it, it's in my blood," no it's not, "so by all means." He gestures around them, and nods at Urianger's offerings. "Why don't you give it a shot." He's known Urianger long enough that he doesn't suggest that the elf should add some blood to the mix, so, you're welcome. Probably.
horizon
Doesn't mean he won't be an absolute weirdo about it. And possibly make a mess of things — always a chance with him, he knows that, but he also always believes it will all work out so what's a little friendly intruding upon between not-yet-but-hopefully-soon-to-be-friends?
The fact of this plane of existence being conjured by the minds of others does also help to temper him, invoking a feeling that approaches reverence for the shared spaces. As he wanders through now, he's absolutely delighted, filled with wonder. Someone who loves the stars? Oh, he absolutely needs to know them.
"Hello? The Doctor here! Not interrupting, am I? Wandering through without so much as a by-your-leave, I know, but this really is quite something. Can't be helped!"
no subject
A voice not his own drifts through the arched hallways, and Urianger pauses in his tracks where he'd been conjuring a vase filled with magically twinkling flowers. He's used to visitors to his Horizon, of course, however this is the first person who has discovered his new space, and he's momentarily struck with a bolt of self-consciousness at having someone Perceive such a personal reflection of his inner self.
"Come now," he chides himself under his breath, as he finishes the last touches on the flowers. "This was rather the point."
Making himself ... known, in a way that is sometimes a little difficult in hard reality.
Satisfied with the floral arrangement, Urianger reaches for his cup of wine before turning back into the halls of the Horizon. The voice didn't sound especially far away, after all, and it wasn't one he recognised, and he has grown to quite enjoy crossing paths with those he might never have otherwise met. As a man with a keen appreciation of Fate, he would say that Nymeia's threads hold especially strong in his domain, and so when he finally reaches The Doctor?
It's with a warm, curious smile, and a slight inclination of the head.
"The Doctor, thou sayest?"
A curious title.
"As I did not call for medical assistance, I can only assume thy title must pertain to something else. Thou art most welcome in my domain, Doctor." Urianger touches his free hand to his chest and dips into an elegant bow. "I am Urianger Augurelt."
no subject
Finally, he lands on resting one hand on his chest, at the midway point between his hearts.
"I haven't come at the wrong time, have I? I do pride myself on always being anywhere at all exactly when I mean to be, when I'm needed, even if you didn't know you needed a Doctor. But then, whether you thought to ask for me or not, here I am, at your service!"
Yes, do keep up, Urianger, follow the logic — easy to decipher, right?
"And absolutely glad to meet you, Urianger Augurelt. Oh, what a perfect name. Suits you! Bit of a sing-song, that. The very first Urianger Augurelt I've ever known, now none other can ever compare. You're a lover of the stars! Big fan."
Of the stars, of Urianger? Who's to say?
So sorry for the lateness! December do be like that 8')
Immediately, Urianger is struck by the effervescent presence of the man. There's a sparkling energy to him that seems to spill from beyond the boundaries of his body: he moves like a man who wants to do it all, see and hear it all, as though he's delighted to have found his way into his domain, and his enthusiasm is infectious enough that it has Urianger's smile pulling all the wider for it. He chuckles lightly as The Doctor's thoughts fly out and around him from all directions:
"And from this meeting alone, I can say with utmost certainty that no doctor shall ever compare to thee," he replies, his free hand curling in front of his lips as he bites back another chuckle. A perfect name? A bit of a sing-song? Any weariness that had crept in while working on his Domain is well and truly shaken away; this man is like the living equivalent of a mouthful of crisp, cold orange juice.
At the mention of the stars, Urianger turns slightly to look upon his work, his expression softening with fondness as that golden-eyed gaze passes over his gently twinkling decor.
"The stars are most precious, to me. 'Tis through harnessing celestial aether that I am able to best support my companions β in the healing arts, primarily, although that is not the limit of its uses."
Stars burn brightly, after all. Burn being key.
Urianger's attention turns back to The Doctor, curiosity bright behind his eyes.
"... Wouldst thou care to see the library? Forgive my forwardness, but if 'tis thine intention to stay a while then I see no reason why we shouldn't make ourselves comfortable. This corner of my Domain is new, you see, and the library has as yet untested seating."
no worries you're all good!
"Most precious to me, too. I've traveled across them, the big old universe. I've admired them, watched over them, danced with one or two. In the way of things," he waves his hand a little. "They keep me going. And I'd love to hear more about your...abilities, if you've a mind to share."
But of course, now, he's even more delighted — "In your library, please. I'm honored to be the first! And for the record, that is absolutely nearly the most perfect question you might have asked me. So, do lead the way!"
no subject
"Thou hast traveled across them?" Urianger repeats, as he guides The Doctor through the gently twinkling hallways. "A most impressive feat indeed β at least, by the standards of mine own people. I consider myself fortunate enough to be one of a scant handful who voyaged to the very edge of the Universeβ"
But he cuts himself off there as a spasm of pain flickers across his expression. All of the Scions, himself included, gave their lives willingly to provide Himeka with a path to the Endsinger, and yet there are times when Urianger finds he can't quite shake how heavily his friends' sacrifice weighs upon his mind.
There are times when he aches for Emet-Selch and the world he lost; times when his heart breaks for Meteion, the young girl was doomed from the moment of her creation. There are times when it all feels so very, very near, and Urianger has to remind himself that his duty to Himeka is to keep looking forward, always foward.
"A journey that was not without its difficulties."
He finishes lamely, his gaze briefly apologetic as they arrive at the sweeping expanse of the library. Urianger gestures for The Doctor to enter:
"Make thyself comfortable, I prithee. Mayhap thou wouldst tell me of the manner in which thou hast wandered the stars?"
By ship? By some kind of teleportation magicks? Uurianger is most curious.
no subject
The flicker of something decidedly other in Urianger's expression draws the Doctor's focus closer. There's so much that he doesn't appear to notice at times, when in fact, he notices more than he might sometimes let on. And though he has no compulsion to keep himself from asking more about the shifting in his eyes, he also feels no need to ask immediately. He'll wait a moment more until they've settled.
"Oh, look at this, look at this," his voice rises slightly in an excited tone, doing a briefly quick spin around the room with his arms up in the air. That won't satisfy him, though, no, he wants to explore and so he ventures closer to a few shelves. Just to start! Observing, scanning, taking it all in. He does, however, answer over his shoulder, "This is me making myself comfortable, by the way. Promise. There's so much to take in, I won't miss a single bit of it." He grins, looks back at the shelves, catches himself again when he takes notice he's overlooked answering a question. "Travel! Yes, good question. My ship, she's a time and space ship. Beautiful blue box, absolute magic, my old girl. We travel mostly by phasing in and out of one place and another. We could be standing here, for instance, and dematerialise in this moment only to reappear in another, perhaps a hundred years ago on another planet entirely. You mentioned the edge of the universe — Ultima Thule, is it? I spoke with someone recently who referred to it as such. Thancred, you know him?"
His words come quickly, excitedly, leaping from one topic to the next. Any moment now, he'll slow down. Probably.
no subject
The Doctor's fragmented way of speaking is difficult to keep up with, to be sure, but Urianger is nothing if not dilligent in his attempts both to understand and to be understood. He listens attentively, threads the man's comments together as best he can, and finds himself smiling warmly at the sheer joy and enthusiasm he shows simply for existing in the moment together. He seems to be absorbing everything he can about their surrounings β about Urianger himself, too β and it is most fascinating to witness.
"Thancred?" The name is enough to shake him from his thoughts; he'll need a moment for talk of dematerialisation to sink into his brain proper anyway. Urianger inclines his head in recognition as his smile warms that bit further: "Aye, he is a dear friend of mine. A better man I have not known, nor may I ever know."
Is that perhaps a little too sentimental for a stranger? Possibly, but then Urianger feels that both Thancred and Himeka deserve to have their praises sung most vociferously. He continues on:
"Thancred, among others, didst also take the journey to Ultima Thule. A recount of his experience thence would surely be of value to thee."
Just perhaps not in the way one might expect. After all, Thancred was the first of them to dissipate into the atmosphere so that Himeka's journey could continue; it could have been a vastly different experience than that of the rest of them.
no subject
"I'll have to ask him more about his journeys. He did tell me when I manage a visit to your world, he'd attempt to keep me away from the Sharlayan Forum. Something about endless questions of my travels," the Doctor shrugs a little, but he's smiling. He never minds questions. Though...some he may be reluctant to answer.
"Oh! You said the seating was untested, let's test it —" And so he does, amazingly, actually manage to sit still for a moment. Possibly two moments. He bounces just a little as he sits, fidgeting before settling again and then releasing a satisfied hum of a breath.
"This screams, sit and stay a while beyond a shadow of a doubt." Though he's quickly on his feet again, he means it genuinely. "What are your favorite books, Urianger?"
fey fancies
So now he has it. A set of paints, made by Nocwich's vampires, carefully crafted from pigments made of various leaves and flower petals. Their colors are rich, and he has a small pad of pressed papers which absorb the colors relatively well.
All he needs... is reference.
Yet in the Thorne library, where he knows to find them, is a void where once those tomes were housed. As he thumbs through the remaining books, it does appear that they have all been checked out. But who should be so fascinated by children's tales?
The answer is a man bent over a book with a small pile next to him. Ah. The focus with which he pours over every page seems nearly excessive if one were not studying its pictures (the plan Dion originally had, to mimic the mixing of colors shapes of florals.) He stops by the man; one he swears he has seen in the halls and noted only by his excessive height and his eye-catching ears.
"You haven't immediate need of every one of these, I imagine?" he asks, holding the pad of painting papers to his side. "Are they truly that fascinating?"
no subject
Perhaps Urianger has been bent over the desk for too long. Certainly, it takes him a good few moments longer than one might expect for him to realise he's being spoken to; it pulls him out of his research with a surprised blink, followed by a quick glance to the left and right as though double checking his surroundings. The library, obviously. He knew that.
"... Forgive me, thy words didst fall upon most distracted ears," he apologieses, uncirling himself from the hunch with a wince that suggests he must have been there for some time. Urianger tilts his head left and right to stretch out a little tension before turning golden eyes up to the unknown man again.
"Thou art in search of tomes pertaining to the Fey?"
He looks the man over: he's smartly dressed, with the same kind of lean build he'd expect of Estinienβ
However those do appear to be painting papers that he's holding to his side. Most curiouis. A warm (if not tired) smile touches the corners of his lips:
"... Art thou a fellow scholar on the subject?"
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"So it seems," he responds, forcing the frown to smooth out into something more neutral. He can hardly fault a man for getting lost in a book. Even if the books are hardly historical tomes.
The Fey?
He has read them, but certainly not dutifully. Dion shakes his head. "Not as you mean it. I am... practicing, and they are excellent reference." He raises the papers, with the wooden palette on top. Stains of paint have already been left behind. "I can hardly be called a scholar, though I have known many." He almost smiles at the thought. "I have always suggested more pillows. For those long nights of research."
Granted, he doesn't think anyone ever heeded such suggestions.
So sorry for the lateness! December do be like that 8')
Urianger just looks at the man for a long moment (evidently, there's still a slight delay between hearing his words and understanding them), before he finally leans back into his chair and rubs his palms over his face. Dion should be able to hear an easy chuckle that muffles itself against his hands:
"There is wisdom in thy words," he replies, if only because he's been sitting on a decidedly unpadded chair for the Twelve only know how long and he can't actually feel his rear any more. Urianger shifts uncomfortably for a moment before throwing in the towel and rising to his feet, accompanied by the sound of his spine popping most pleasingly as it settles back into its usual alignment.
Much better.
"Mayhap I shall bring a pillow of my own the next time I hear the call of the library," he smiles, seeming a little more alert and engaged now that he's standing up and moving around. The man shifts to show him his supplies and Urianger's expression seems to brighten a little:
"Ah, thou art an artist. Please, thou art most welcome to peruse what literature I hath liberated from the shelves." He deflates just a touch as he looks back to the desk, then gestures towards it with an elegant wave of his hand. "I fear I will be returning the vast majority to the shelves soon enough."
no worries! it truly be like that
Dion takes a step back to allow him the room, but also because it is startling, seeing the man rise to his full height. Not only by the length and point of his ears, but a head taller than himself... and Dion hardly has considered himself short. It only takes half a moment for him to swallow any lingering surprise.
"I could hardly claim such a title." Even artist is far too lofty a term. Dion does take the invitation without hesitation, looking over the stacks until he finds the exact one he was looking for, which he had referenced a few days prior. Once tucked safely under his arm, he turns back with a rise of his brow. "Are you not finding what you are searching for?"
no subject
"Ah ..."
Urianger glances back down towards the mess strewn across the desk before pinching at the bridge of his nose, evidently attempting to fend off an oncoming headache.
"In a manner of speaking. More accurately, I hath found all I was searching for and yet I doubt it will be enough to achieve my goals."
He's been seeking for any small kernel of truth wrapped up in myth, folklore, or any other manner of superstitious hearsay, but thus far he's only found himself with more questions about Thorne's relationship with the Fey. The Summoned have met them, interacted with them, were invited to partake of a few small elements of their culture, and yet the information provided by Thorne's libraries seems ... fictious at best, nonsense at worst. A wry smile touches his lips:
"Such is the plight of the scholar."
But where are his manners? He takes a moment to touch a hand to his own breast and dip into a short bow.
"Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Urianger Augurelt β 'tis a pleasure to make thine acquaintance."
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"Such is the plight of the scholar." He repeats it, because there is nothing more true. "One might even guess that neverending search is exactly what some scholars live for."
Dion would hardly call himself one, either. It is mere observance that gives him such perspective.
The only reason the bow is worth noting is it is the first time has received such a greeting since awakening here. He returns it with an inclining of his head. If it were not his bow, it would be his formal way of speaking. From that alone, Dion may have guessed his preoccupances. "Mine as well. Far be it from me to interrupt further, but -- what is it yet you look for?"
no subject
Urianger makes a vague gesture.
"An interruption may be needed," he replies, before indicating his work. "According to my companions, I have a tendency to ... ah, allow myself to become overly invested in my resarch. I could not say for how many bells I have toiled here." The estimate would be high, though, were he to pluck a number from thin air. "Mayhap thy coming is a blessing in disguise."
And speaking of blessings in disguise, Urianger seems to perk up a little when Dion enquires about his research. For all he wouldn't call his study successful it is nevertheless interesting β at least, to someone with a taste for folklore and mythology β and he reaches for one of the tomes lying open on a diagram of toadstool circles so that he might show the other man.
"I am searching for scholarship pertaining to the Fey β or more specifically, a way that one might communicate with those who live in the territory of Feywilds. Their relationship with Thorne is ... difficult, at best, and so I had hoped that mine own line of enquiry might yield more fruitful results."
One slender fingertip touches the drawing.
"Art thou familiar with so-called fairy rings?"
omg I'm so sorry for the wait ;;
Equally at his service, if it involves reminding him to move.
Dion peers at the diagram he opens onto, leaving a polite distance between them, yet close enough he can take in the illustration. It is not the one he meant to paint, but he thinks he has seen similar before.
"I have read of such things. A ring of toadstools, or similar, that seemingly grow in such shapes naturally." And he has heard of the Fae, if only from Istredd's information. He was not in this world in time to meet them. "And you hypothesize such a growth could be use for communication?"
Please don't worry at all!
"A pleasure, Master Lesage," Urianger replies, inclining his head in a slightly more formal acknowledgement. He glances back towards the drawing as he continues on:
"Such had been my hope, although as yet I have little to show for myself," he confesses, his expression shifting to something caught between embarrassment and mild frustration. "In the aftermath of the Anomalous Beasts' attack it occurred to me that the Fey are somewhat isolated from assistance, and while I am certain they are more than capable of protecting their lands ..."
Urianger curls a fist beneath his chin, contemplative.
"I feel both the Summoned of Thorne and the Fey would benefit from an alliance of sorts. At the very least, it is something I wish to pursue with council."
no subject
"Certainly it is an interesting proposal. There are far more benefits to alliances than the lack of them." Though his experiences with them -- including the treaties signed at the Remembrance Ceremony -- have instilled a fear that alliances are hardly promised to last. There will always be forces that will use such a thing for their own gains. People like Anabella. People like his father.
"And is that all you hope to gain from it? A chance to offer protection in response to this unfounded fear the Fey cannot protect themselves?"
There is no intended judgement in the question, but a wrinkle does come between Dion's brows as he says it. It is a fascination Dion himself has that makes him ask, combined with an uneasiness -- one prompted by the actions he has seen other Summoned take, as if to decide the fate of the native citizens of this world with a confidence they have not earned.
And now it's my turn to be sorry for the wait!
Urianger's expression softens a little at Dion's ... concern? Perhaps that isn't quite the word he's looking for β but there's a wariness to the pinch of his brow that suggests some measure of question.
"A politician I am not, yet even I am aware that acts of selflessness are most unheard of in such spheres," he says thoughtfully, as he considers Dion's question. "Thou art right to question the motives that hath driven me thusly, although I fear any full answer I might give cannot be spoken here."
The library is quiet, but the stacks have ears. Urianger raises an eyebrow pointedly; hopefully the other man will be able to read between those lines.
"Glad would I be to discuss the matter in a setting that might afford us a modicum of privacy."
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"I do not intend to say selflessness cannot exist. Only that it rarely does in such matters." A fact he laments all the same.
Though it is not Dion's concern what the man decides to do with the Fey, or for them, or for himself, he can hardly ignore such an intriguing hook to his words, can he? For who, in particular, does he fear to be overheard from? They would be fools to think the royal family does not have spies in their own castle, to sway opinion or to keep it steady, but... perhaps Urianger has some man, in particular, that he fears.
"If it is not untoward for me to further disrupt your research... my room is quiet at all times." He does not share it, and he prefers it, for now, that way. "I confess, you have left me intrigued."
no subject
Urianger chuckles softly at that.
"And what is a castle without intrigue, I wonder?"
Because in his experience? Intrigue, castles, and politics always seem to come hand in hand. Still, he doesn't seem to be particularly put-off by Dion's suggestion, and so he takes a moment to consider the mess of his research before looking to the other man again.
"Mayhap a moment of respite would do me well. A moment, if I mayβ"
Just to gather up the most potentially incriminating documents should anyone find his research spot. While these tomes were readily available to anyone who might be interested, such a high concentration of books and notes on how to reach the Feywilds might come across as suspicions to a nosey librarian. The idea of being monitored doesn't sit well with him at all.
When he's satisfied, Urianger turns to Dion again and offers a brief smile.
"Prithee lead on."
no subject
Dion gives him a nod, stepping back. His own supplies have remained tucked tidily under his arm, which seemingly does not grow tired. It is a note to be considered, looking on it all as a whole. The Fey, what he knows of them, appear to be a secretive people, and the library has only so much information on them as a whole. Any vested interest in a single topic can lead to dangerous suspicions.
Once gathered, Dion does lead so, only half a step ahead as they traverse familiar halls to his room. As promised, there is only a single bed occupied within: currently containing a curled up white dragon, slightly larger than a cat, asleep on primly made sheets.
Dion shuts the door behind him, setting his painting supplies down on a nearly-bare desk.] There is all the privacy one could ask for now.