• Memory • Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Maebella finds herself accosted by a self-entitled noble

Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect.

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Maebella
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

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8th Ashan 716
The first floor didn't contain books on the subjects that Maebella was particulaly interested in but it was fascinating place to be all the same. She would often find herself perusing the titles, trying to guess at their contents and sometimes if she had a chance, she'd flick through one or two but they were practically incomprehensible to her. It was like something in another language and one day, she hoped to be able to understand them, especially as she had a flair for languages. If she could learn to understand a completely different language then she could learn something a bit technical in her native tongue.

Not being able to comprehend what she was handling was handy though because it allowed the young Eídisi to keep her mind on the task at hand rather than getting distracted and sitting down to absorb new knowledge. The temptation to do such a thing was always strong - she really needed to exercise greater discipline - and so being on the first floor helped her to keep her mind on her work. One day, she'd be enrolled in the Academy again and when that day came, she could peruse as many books as she wanted and nobody could say that she couldn't. However, a library clerk secreted a way in a corner with their nose in a book tended to be frowned upon.

There were a number of shelves near the entrance way where discarded books were left to be sorted and there were one or two dotted elsewhere on each floor. It was to this area of disorder that Maebella stood, organising the books into small groups according to where they were shelved, making it easier for her to carry around a stack of them to one location rather than running back and forth for every book. She had just gathered the first such stack of weighty tomes - six in all - into her arms when someone strode into the Atheneum and effectively slammed the door behind them. The sound of feet was also excessive so that the young woman almost dropped the books she was carrying in horror. She couldn't believe that anyone would dare enter with such complete disregard for others. This was a place of study, of quiet introspection, not a place for young men to come thundering in as if they owned the place.

Setting her load back down on the shelf with a soft thump, the Eídisi practically marched towards him, overly aware of the soft click of her shoes on the floor. It would be the height of hypocrisy if she succeeded in making as much of a racket as him, thus, she tried to keep her steps as light as possible. She stopped beside him and folded her arms across her chest, taking grim satisfaction from the fact that they were about the same height.

"Excuse me, but this is a library. You can't expect to come in here in such a fashion, disturbing everyone in the process. Have you no respect for academic endeavour?" she questioned in a low murmur, her voice cold as she regarded the young man before her. He seemed to be an adult, at least by physical human standards, although she certainly saw reason to doubt his maturity. Mae was still considered to be a child by her own race's standards but really she was past her adolescence, it was hardly fair to refer to her as a child. She certainly seemed to have better wits than this human although that was to be expected. Of course, perhaps first impressions were deceiving. Given that he was a human, and a male one at that, she doubted it. Everyone knew that humans were inferior in intelligence to the Eídisi but the men were the lesser specimens of their race.

If this one asked her for something, she'd be ill pleased. Goodness knows what had brought him in here but she felt like it couldn't be particularly academic. It was more like he'd wandered in on a sightseeing tour given the noise he'd made.
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Caius Gawyne
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Viden was sarding cold! His northern home was fog and snow and freezing every cold cycle, it was true, but this whole city was ice even in Ashan. The moment Caius’ Baron of a father had acquiesced he was free to study outside of Fort Gawyne, away from private tutors and their vast library, the young noble didn’t waste a moment. He’d nearly literally packed his things and shoved coins into the hand of the first boat to Viden once he’d been accepted to study, desperate for fresh air and space from the barely contained emotional chaos that his family had become. He just didn’t realize how much that air would burn his lungs and threaten frostbite at every exposed bit of skin.

Unprepared and underestimating everything about Viden and the Academy it held within its icy heart, the young Gawyne not only had to port his own luggage from the ship to the carriage, onto the carriage, and all the way to his residence, grumbling and slipping and cursing loudly, but he crammed himself into the small, cold room that was to be his home while a student and realized in a breath that he was farther from everything familiar than he’d really expected.

Once settled, he had to open doors for himself and wander campus lost and half-frozen, bundled against the cold Ashan weather and acclimated to a colder temperature than most Rynmere natives, but still not acclimated enough. The Eīdisi eyed him warily, and even other humans seemed to look down their noses at him, here, a noble who’d lived their whole life looking down at others now the one unknown and common. It was, to say the least, a humbling if not humiliating experience, but one which stirred strange and not unwelcome feelings in the stone labyrinth of the young Gawyne’s mind.

His parents hadn’t exactly condoned his decision to apply to Viden, assuming he’d follow in Hunter’s footsteps and be close by, within their reach, at Rynmere University. And so, his rash decision had been met with a lack of funding, his father utterly refusing to give him a single nel to live on at the Academy until he proved himself a worthy investment. So, within a few trials of staggering his way through the snowy campus and getting his bearings, Caius was forced to find some student employment. There were plenty of options, most of which revolved around assisting professors with their research or experiments, being a clerk or some kind of gopher-like near-servant. None of those really appealed to the noble who’d been free to tell others what to do for most of his twenty-odd arcs of life.

The quietness of the library appealed, however, as did the very physical, hands-on work required with books. An apprentice bookbinder was needed to restore old books and rebind them for library use, and as a Gawyne with meticulous history contained within vast libraries in his own homeland, such a job seemed fitting enough. He just had to humble himself and ask for it. The interview and acceptance had been a bizarre, culturally altering experience for the noble, but, really, that meant he now had to show up somewhere on someone else’s time instead of his own.

And his first day? He was late.

Snow had fallen (again), and the young Gawyne was covered in it by the time he staggered through the library doors (again, doors he had to open himself—the nerve). Uncaring, he let them get slammed shut by the wind behind him, too busy removing his ice- and snow-caked outer layers to hang in the coat room, cursing under his breath at just how long, how sarding long, it had taken him to get to the library from his dorm.

Footsteps approached as he finished kicking the ice off the bottom of his boots, and the voice that began to scold him grated in his cold-reddened ears. Caius hissed, scowling with all the well-practiced ease expected of his birthright, and turned to find himself eye-to-eye with an Eídisi woman, her arms crossed. The blue-skinned servants of Yvithia were all so sarding tall. He was almost average height in Video and it was … well, strange like every Fates-be-damned thing here,

“I’m sorry.” He quipped, his tone flat as if his response was more automatic than genuine, the words muscle memory from a trained understanding that those were the words you said when someone told you they were offended. He clearly didn’t mean them, but he kept his voice low to match hers, “Doesn’t anyone hold doors in this sarding city? It wouldn’t hurt. Look, I respect academia as well as the next student, thank you very much, but it’s windy out.”

And he was a little late—just a little,

“Are you the clerk here, then?” His hands were straightening his vest and he stood at his full height for a moment, long fingers digging for a folded sheet of paper so he could look at the names he’d written quickly on it. He shifted into a quicker, casual pace of conversation, ignoring any need for introduction or further apology based upon his own perceived timeline. Cheeks and nose still red from the cold, his irises shifted color visibly from icy blue to almost silver, “Look, I’m the new bookbinder’s apprentice, a Lady Belwyn’s assistant, and no one wanted to tell me whether the book restoration office was actually in this lib—in the Prime Atheneum or not. Is it? If not, I’m going to be a more of a bother I’m afraid and ask you for directions, if you don’t mind.”
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Maebella
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

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While she waited for the young man to make some manner of response to her reprimand, she allowed her gaze to move swiftly up and down his form. He'd stripped off his snow-encrusted clothing but she could see that he'd carried it in on his boots. She couldn't exactly blame him for that; it was a fact of life in Viden that you'd carry the weather indoors with you. However, she could blame him for where he'd kicked it off though. She chalked it up as one more strike against him as she waited to see if he'd redeem himself in any shape or form.

An apology came, curiously flat and it made the Eídisi girl raise a brow. It didn't sound particularly sincere but it didn't sound sarcastic either. Perhaps it had been said with good intentions but he didn't know how to add the appropriate inflection to it. Maebella didn't know what to make of that but her eyebrows scaled higher up her forehead at his next words, the exasperation in them apparent.

"Would it have hurt you to have kicked the snow from your boots in a more appropriate place?" she countered coolly. "Why would someone stand holding open the door? Firstly, do you expect someone to stand there all day for your convenience? Secondly, you've answered your own question. It is windy out and quite cold. It is not either of those things in here. The idea would be to keep them out and keep the heat in."

The young woman narrowed her white eyes at him, wondering what sort of man was before her. Everything she'd just said could be reasoned out quite logically. The fact that he hadn't done so either spoke volumes about his intelligence or his background, possibly both. She wasn't sure which yet but she was biased towards the former. However, if she wanted to puzzle him out, she needed to be more subjective. As such, she closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as she tried to centre her mind. He was like one of the stories that she so enjoyed analysing. There were faults but she had to see past them to see the merits in the small details and in the overall picture. When she returned her gaze to him, she tried to make herself somewhat open-minded.

"I am a clerk," she replied neutrally, watching him fumble out a piece of paper. He'd referred to Viden as 'this city' - albeit with an interesting adjective in there - and now he was looking for some information that he didn't have committed to memory. It was safe to say that he was a visitor to the city, probably here to study in the Academy. What was more was that he probably had a different set of customs that he was used to, including notions of manners. Realistically, she had to cut him some slack but the Eídisi also felt that he should have done his research if he was going to come here.

However, before she could consider anything further on the matter, his eyes shifted colour. The change was highly visible and quite dramatic, making her gawk at him. The meaning of his speech penetrated but her mind was too busy racing with questions for her to respond straight away. She hadn't seen anyone with eyes like that before and honestly, it fascinated her.

"Oh, you're that one. Yes, I'd heard that she had a new assistant and the Restoration Office is here; I can show you where it is," Maebella explained, leaning a little closer as she peered into his face. "Your eyes just changed colour. Can you do that consciously? Can you make them change again? Fascinating, why do they do that? Are you fully human?"

The youth bit her tongue, suddenly aware that her voice had been going up in volume in her excitement. "Apologies," she murmured, feeling herself blush. She'd complained about his noise levels and his lack of respect for the sanctity of quiet in the library but she was doing the same thing herself. The female Eídisi cleared her throat quietly. "I'll show you where it is. It'll save time, especially as I suspect that you're late. I'm fairly sure that Lady Belwyn starts at an earlier break than this although I can't make assumptions; I don't know when she was expecting you."

The young woman turned and trotted back over to the sorting shelf to pick up a new stack of books, choosing ones for the third floor. There was no sense in wasting the trip. Clutching the bundle of tomes to her chest, she led the way past the first busts as she headed for the stairs, her shoes clicking lightly as she headed upstairs, expecting that the out-of-towner would follow her without further prompting.
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Sard it all, had he even left Rynmere?

There wasn’t an Eídisi he’d met that didn’t have an ice brick on their Fates-forsaken shoulder, it seemed. Perhaps had the young Gawyne paused and taken some perspective himself, he could have noted it wasn’t as if he was all that better, but as the woman asked him questions she didn’t want answered about where he should be kicking snow and who held doors for nobility, his expression bordered on the deadpan. He blinked, aware of how doors worked and how to keep heat in a home—northern Rynmere was still cold.

"I’ll be more careful next time, then." Caius managed some well-bred manner of decorum, this time perhaps more sincere than his previous apology, but still clearly unimpressed with the woman’s offenses. The Library just needed less clerks, it seemed, and a few more servants. They complained less and did more, "That one? I’ve got a na—"

The clerk was in his personal space, and as she pointed out exactly what his eyes did, they shifted again from their resting blue to an amber hue. Annoyance. Surprise. He blinked at her, noting that she was nearly taller than he was, that most of the blue-skinned residents of Yvithia’s city were taller than himself, though they were also lithe, slim, and graceful. Hardly broad-shouldered, he still felt he didn’t look as frail as an Eídisi, his father’s insistence that training as a Lord include physical pursuits lending him enough lean muscle to be as solid as he was tall. The northern noble didn’t move or shy away so much as lean forward just enough to be irritatingly obvious in the stranger’s personal space, the hint of a grin tugging at his previously sour expression,

"Consciously? No, not … really. They shift with my emotions, so I suppose I have some control over things when I choose to. I’m more human than anything else, honestly, but also Aukari, Biqaj, and Immortal." His grin grew wider, taunting, but his tone was serious. He had no issues with her proximity, cold fingers curling into the pockets of his jacket, "Just another Rynmere mutt with illusions of familial claims to the Fates-be-damned throne."

He laughed then, making his statement ambiguous, almost self-deprecating in admitting that he was from a noble House as well as that the children of Immortals had once walked the halls of his family home, their blood in his veins, mixed though it was with so many others. A noble mutt, but perhaps still nothing more than a dog begging at the table of those still far more powerful and learned than himself.

Still, the young Gawyne chuckled at her apology after her previous accosting of his person, finding her curiosity about things he took for granted like his eyes, more than welcome. Caius made no comment about how vacant-feeling and strange Eídisi eyes were to him, for he’d found it difficult to have a face-to-face conversation with a person when he didn’t know where he should be looking.

"I’m late. Unfortunately, I’m not going to make a very favorable first impression." The northern noble admitted, chagrined, rolling his narrow shoulders in a shrug. He was either too late or too early, too awake, "But I’d appreciate a guide, thank you. I’m from Rynmere, and I’ve only been here in Viden for a few trials now. To study, obviously. I wish someone had told me it would still be so sarding snowy in Ashan. I would have left my dorm earlier."

Or, at least, that he’d believed them.

He followed once the young woman began to walk away from the foyer area, taking in the lovely and foreign interior of the Prime Atheneum with wide eyes, "I’m Caius, by the way." Lord Caius of Gawyne sounded a bit pretentious here, and not needing such titles was really one of the reasons he sailed straight for the Viden Academy in the first place, after all, "May I ask your name?"
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Maebella
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

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Any interest in basic social interaction had officially fallen by the wayside as the young woman found herself presented with the fascinating information about this man's heritage. True, she had some remembrance of social decorum when she leaned into her personal space in the same way she'd done to his, but aside from that, Maebella's mind was alive with speculation, assembling hypotheses and filing away the new information. A person of mixed race was a topic of curiosity to the Eídisi girl rather than something of which she disapproved. After all, this man hadn't chosen his heritage, he couldn't be somehow blamed for it because that would be entirely illogical. However, he could be a person of interest given that it allowed her to see how various racial traits worked when they were combined. What was more, the mention of the word 'Immortal' peaked her interest immensely. Perhaps he might have information that could reveal something about the Great Shattering, a legend or some artefact that had been passed down.

Aside from his familial claims, the youth was also intrigued by his mention of Rynmere and the throne. Politics were hardly worth noting in her eyes but she knew that Rynmere was a kingdom and as such, politics was a very big deal, particularly when it came to things like who had claim to the monarchy. His use of language suggested that he had some claim, potentially distant, perhaps even illegitimate.

The Eídisi considered his attitude in relation to the new information that she'd learned. Nobles were used to having things done for them and given how he'd acted, expecting people to hold doors for him, he might well fit into that category. It would make sense. However, perhaps there was more of that kind of thing in Rynmere even if you weren't a noble. Her thoughts prompted plenty of questions and she was more than prepared to ask them when she was certain that he wasn't going to volunteer anything else. When he asked her name, the shift in focus was clear and she took that as her chance to ask everything she wanted; he'd given her the floor.

"My name is Maebella. There's no need to add anything further than that, I don't have a need for titles or announcements of familial connections. I would have thought that that was quite important to someone in Rynmere. So, is it a case that you don't have anything to add or you choose not to add it? After all, even though you've only been here a few trials, I imagine you've realised that Viden is quite different to that which you're accustomed," the clerk pointed out. She'd slowed her pace a bit, allowing herself to walk closer to him so that they could talk quietly without broadcasting their conversation to the rest of the Prime Atheneum.

"So which is it: are you illegitimate or you unwilling to attempt to throw your weight around? We do have higher classes here - I suppose that's what you could call them - but I imagine you wouldn't fit into them easily, even if you are a noble in Rynmere. Are you a noble or have I misread what you've said? You did refer to yourself as a mutt, hence why I'm inclined to consider the possibility that you're illegitimate. However, humans sometimes use self-deprecating language to lower their status. I don't fully understand why but in that case, you could be a noble trying to appear to be of more humble origins," Maebella reasoned, not really noticing, or caring that she was aiming a monologue at him. She knew that it could disturb humans, particularly those who weren't Viden natives and unused to Eídisi ways. She couldn't help being analytical to a fault.

"However, you're here to study and yet you're also here to work. If you were a noble, you probably wouldn't need to work to pay your way. You've been quick to apologise, something I don't think comes naturally given the attitude that has reared its head more than once. You also seem a little worried that you'll have made a poor first impression on Lady Belwyn so you want this job. It could be a desire to make your own way in the world, despite not needing to do so or you might genuinely need this position. That leaves two possibilities: your family doesn't have money or they won't give you money for some reason."

The girl gave a small smile, realising that she was speculating rather than confirming facts. "I suppose it's easier to ask although perhaps you won't answer. Are you a noble? Do you actually need this position? Also something I can't find out without research but... what part of you causes your eyes to change colour? It's not the human part so it's something else but which part?"

Most of what had come out of the young woman's mouth could probably be construed as rude and on some level, she was aware of that. It was human ridiculousness though, this need for social niceties. Not making noise in a library was something that make practical sense. It was a place of study and introspection, something that was best done in an environment of quiet. People getting offended because you asked precise questions about their heritage or made intelligent observations about them was pure nonsense. Unless it offended her, of course, but that wasn't a matter at issue here.
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Maebella was her name, but she didn't give him a moment to say any further greeting or ask any questions about the Prime Atheneum. She chose instead to comment on his implied status and remind him how different Viden was and—

She did not just question his legitimacy.

She did.

She sarding did.

"Bastard? Me? By the Seven, no."

Whatever else had spilled from the blue-skinned woman's delicate but Fates-be-damned busy lips, Caius found that he first had to address the metaphorical jacadon in the hallway before he could even process the entirety of her words. Sharp blue eyes shifted to the color and hardness of steel and he raised a hand to slow down the blizzard of her questions, black ink visible under his otherwise well-cared for fingernails,

"I'm the second son of Baron Frederick Gawyne and if I wanted to throw the weight of that around, I sarding well promise you it would be plenty legitimate even this far from Rynmere. I'm a mutt in terms of race—more human than anything else, but my grandmother's Aukari and my mother's half-Biqaj, and my grandfather is a mortalborn of Ziell himself, so my claim to the House of Gawyne is very real but my heritage is a bit hard to explain. That said, I wear it well." The northern noble smirked, his expression one of annoyed disdain for the Eídisi's line of questioning, no matter how much he'd opened himself up to her assumptions. He didn't raise his voice, however, even if the haughty edge to it was almost tangibly sharp,

"I'm a noble, truly, but I'm here completely of my own accord and momentum. As of today, I'm pretty sure my father hasn't yet realized I've even transferred to Viden. As far as he knows, I'm still in Rynmere. So, there's that." He grinned then, his well-bred expression bordering on the wicked, before clearing his throat and continuing to take everything she bombarded him with in his long-legged stride, "If you must know in order to satisfy your sarding rude curiosity, no, my father isn't quite yet convinced it's a worthwhile investment for me to study outside of my homeland when he can very well bring all the education I could desire to Fort Gawyne. I disagreed. Strongly. Thus I'm here through funding of my own making, thank you much, and I do need the work so I don't go home like some beaten dog with his tail between his legs."

The muscles of his jaw twitched impatiently as he forced himself to pause, "And, it's the Biqaj part. My eyes. The Aukari part, my warm-blooded nature. And the Ziell part, well, all Gawynes have the gift of prophecy."

He let that be mysterious. She didn't need to know everything, no matter how hard she tried. Whether she was going to ask who he'd had between the sheets yet or whether he liked the weather or whether he'd sailed or flew or what he was even studying next was beyond him, but perhaps he baited her a little with his somewhat snide tone of voice.

A restless hand ran through his unkempt hair and he looked away for a moment, visibly ruffled and somewhat caught off-guard by all the questions from a stranger while she led the way through the Antheneum toward the Lady Belwyn's office. Clearly the answers didn't bother him, though he wasn't entirely prepared to give verbal proof of his distant claim to the throne. He had one. It was legitimate. But he also had a father and an older brother to go through in order to even be a Baron, let alone first in line. Not that he wanted anything to do with the sarding throne, anyway. Those fod-sacks could shove all their politics and bizarre social maneuvering up their arseholes as far as he was concerned,

"Now, if you're all satisfied, you could pick up the pace a little and I could get on with making a fool of myself in apologizing for being late, Miss Maebella who needs not a title to be entitled."
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

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She appeared to have struck a nerve.

A glance was enough to reveal the shift of his eye colour, a new hardness entering his gaze. To say that she'd simply stuck a nerve seemed an understatement given how his demeanour had changed. His use of the term 'bastard' left her uncertain, wondering if it was a product of his angered state or a term that somehow preferred to 'illegitimate'. One was a perfectly acceptable word that conveyed a great deal of information whereas the other was muddied by odd connotations, bandied around by humans as an insult as well as a valid descriptor. Considering that he'd flung out this one suggested that he'd taken the insult route, determining that the insult came from her end.

Maebella let out an exasperated sigh as Caius launched into an explanation of his heritage, obviously expecting his words to carry greater meaning for her than she did. Obviously, she understood that Baron was a title but she was fairly sure that it was one passed to the firstborn. So he was a noble but a useless one; he'd probably never have claim to such a title as a second son. The races he listed meant little but she perked up at the mention of Ziell, white eyes widening as she processed the information. Mortalborns were children of the Immortals who had been born to a mortal, hence the name, and apparently, Caius was descended from one. It was difficult to comprehend that this man was a descendent of a god. She would have thought that someone of such descent would be more... impressive.

In fact, when he revealed the quirks of the non-human parts of his heritage, her disappointment only increased as she discovered that the truly interesting appearance of his eyes - the only visible indicator that he's anything less than fully human - isn't even the result of his Immortal heritage. Honestly, in that moment, the Biqaj sounded more intriguing than the descendants of Ziell. The girl's lips came together in a slight pout as she processed the information, hardly noticing the snide edge to his voice.

"Oh... I see. So you're a second son, unlikely to secure a barony and thus, you have come here to make something of yourself so as not to be fully reliant on your father, I suppose," she murmured, her tone half-questioning, her brow furrowing as she thought. "Perhaps your gift of prophecy only covers sizeable events. After all, Videnese weather seems to have caught you very much by surprise."

The Eídisi's head cocked to the side as if she was listening but bearing the appearance of one absorbed introspectively. She sucked in part of her bottom lip, chewing it as she shifted the weight of the books she carried. "It's very human to view curiosity as rude," she finally remarked. "Curiosity also sounds so idle, purposeless and I suppose for many of you, it is but I'm Eídisi; we seek answers for a purpose. Yvithia does not seek answers on a whim and neither do we."

She turned her head to stare at him as he spoke again, white eyes jerking heavenward at his tone and choice of words. She sighed, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together as she considered his prickliness. "I can certainly move faster, as you request. However, you are mistaken in thinking me entitled. I believe you must have caught your own reflection in my eyes, Caius, second son of Baron Frederick Gawyne and grandson of Ziell's Mortalborn. For one who is seemingly so unwilling to throw his weight around, you seem to carry the belief that all ought to bend to your will and run to do your bidding," she explained flatly. "I do not think you will last long here if you expect others to be your servants. I do believe that you will make a fool of yourself before Lady Belwyn, perhaps I ought to feel pity for you. However, it seems as if it would be a waste of energy."

The young woman turned from him, quickening her pace so that her shoes whispering a staccato rhythm across the floor, heading for the next staircase to bring them to the top floor. The clerk found herself wishing for the young man's departure now, only wanting to get on with her work in peace, her curiosity forced to be sated considering that her target seemed so unwilling to converse further. It was better to be rid of him for the time being.
Last edited by Maebella on Wed Nov 29, 2017 10:55 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 769
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Eídisi would do well in Rynmere, what with their ice blocks on their shoulders and noses pointed high in the frigid air. It was a wonder they weren't a dying race—how did any of them manage to stand another long enough to reproduce?

Caius occupied his thoughts for a moment, but sighed when it was clear that explaining the intricacies of his home's politics to a stranger really wasn't a lesson one could make in casual conversation. The history of the noble Houses and the monarchy were entire courses of study, and while the young Gawyne himself hardly did any of it justice in his somewhat jaded rendition, he certainly didn't want to leave Maebella with too many wrong ideas. Not that it mattered,

"I am still eligible for a Barony, should I want one. My brother's hardly an obstacle if I choose to overcome him." He quipped, shrugging. Hunter wasn't entirely in his father's good graces, either, though as far as Caius was concerned the eldest son wasn't entirely sane. He wasn't sure how to feel about his family far too often than he was comfortable admitting. They were no longer close, and hadn't been for arcs after Ivy's disappearance. The three of them had once been friends and siblings, but events had changed that and if Caius had any regrets it was that he had not made efforts to make peace between them. He still felt guilt over that and knew somewhere inside that he should be the bigger man and put forth effort to heal old wounds and draw their family closer.

Instead, he was here.

"I don't have to be here. I could go home and play the game and want for nothing and be comfortable. But what's the sarding point? There's a whole world outside of my homeland, and I want to know about it. The House of Gawyne are the record keepers of Rynmere, and we are known for our wisdom and vision, our breadth of knowledge and our meticulous records. What good is vision if it's biased? What good are records if they are false? What good is knowledge if it's only from a singular perspective? No, I'm outside of what is comfortable in order to know more, to be more, and to become more. Not so I can just get by under my father's nose to spite the face of my family. Though, that's fine, too."

He chuckled at her assumptions about his prophetic gift, though his expression softened a little bit.

"My gift? I cannot prophesy the weather. Nor sizable events. Nor what you will wear on the morrow. Only the exact arc, cycle, season, trial, break, and bit of my own death. And then it is my duty to live with it." Caius rolled his narrow shoulders in a shrug, unwilling to divulge whether he knew that now in his life or not,

"All curiosity isn't rude, but you are." The young Gawyne laughed at her then, shaking his head, "And I'm not even apologizing—I'm aware of myself, thank you. I've never wanted for anything except to get away for even just a moment from Rynmere and actually learn outside of everything familiar. I've been entitled since birth, and I know it."

He wasn't sorry at all, that much was clear, but he wasn't ignorant either.

"Still, it's not about your hunger for knowledge any more than it's about my cultural expectations. As a Gawyne, I can respect that curiosity, even if I find the delivery lacking if you're to be the shining example of every Eídisi I meet in Viden. I'm here because I have respect for Yvithia and her domains as an Immortal. I'm not here in need of servants and I don't give a damn about my bidding being done—"

He raised both hands in a motion that implied a sense of resigned helplessness,

"—I'm here to be a student. I'm here to learn. I'm here to be a nobody, though that in itself is a challenge to me that I must deal with, and I'm aware of my shortcomings. The weight of my noble lineage means nothing here, as your ignorance of Rynmere politics is proof. That is for the better in my opinion and it's one of the reasons I'm here instead back in Andaris. Does that mean that the moment I stepped foot off that Fates-be-damned boat that brought me here I left all of who I am on deck? No. No more than your kind can put down their conceit and superiority in the presence of humanity, I cannot leave behind my upbringing in a handful of trials. Will I survive here? It's too soon to tell, I think, but if you feel like giving prophecy a go, be my guest. Let me know how that turns out."

Caius teased, unconcerned with feeling dismissed. To set his entire self aside was somewhat ambitious, and it felt to him as though that small nugget of realization was the key to gaining new knowledge—the more of who he was that he let go of, the more room he had to fill himself up with what was true about the world outside of what was familiar or comfortable. The problem was letting go of some things were hard and other things felt sarding impossible. Becoming nothing was quite the command,

"If the Lady Belwyn is type cast from the same hand mold as yourself, then I suspect you'll be free to pity me as you like. That said, I'll just have to deal with that when we get there, though it's still kind of you to show me the way outside of your propensity for getting carried away."

The young Gawyne wasn't entirely unkind. Humility just wasn't a comfortable article of clothing for the noble, nor did it seem to be a part of the inherent make up of Eídisi as a species,

"If you have other duties, I'm sure I can find my own way from here."
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

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It seemed that the Eídisi had been mistaken when she thought that Caius was no longer willing to speak. In fact, he appeared to have quite a number of words to fling her way, leaving Maebella torn between maintaining a rapid pace to ensure that he reached his destination sooner and slowing so she could linger to listen to him. What was more, she was uncertain how he would react to either, especially as he'd been so eager for her to hurry up in the first place and yet now he seemed to have plenty to say to keep her with him. If he kept pace with her then she could manage it but failing that, she decided to slow. His flyaway comment about his brother not necessarily being an obstacle had hooked her attention. The young man didn't give off any vibes to suggest he was a potential danger but his words... He made it sound like he could make his brother unable to inherit the position and the only possibility she could think of that would make that possible would be murder. Of course, she didn't know for certain, and perhaps stupid to stay with a potential murderer but she also had to find out if her suspicions were correct or totally off the mark.

However, it wasn't long before she was regarding his character in a new light, eyeing the young noble with newfound respect. Finally, he was speaking sense as far as the youth was concerned. The pursuit of knowledge - true, unbiased knowledge - was something that she understood and supported wholeheartedly. For the first time, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, a new approval in her gaze as she nodded in agreement to what he said. Her entire perspective of him had now changed, meaning that henceforth, he was likely to get more of a response from her.

Her white eyes fixed on him, a gasp crossing her lips at the thought of him knowing the exact length of his own mortality. In practical terms, all things had to die because it was a fact of life, part of the cycle of the world. If one strove to reach their goals and attain their dreams, they knew that one day it would all end but they would have an uncertain deadline, inclining them to think of it as almost infinite until they reached a certain point in their race's typical lifespan. However, the notion of having the precise deadline hanging over you, inescapable and definite made the Eídisi shiver. For once, Maebella wasn't inclined to question. For once, she allowed another person free reign of the conversation, not interjecting with the many queries which she was so accustomed to ask.

Shame crossed her face, her cheeks darkening in hue as she flushed. She had caused offence, a typical occurrence for her, but now she was penitent. Caius seemed willing to laugh it off, for which she was glad, but she couldn't leave things as they were. "I apologise," she murmured. "I spoke hastily and I suppose... no, my words were unwise, that is definite. I'm sorry if I caused undue offence." She bowed her head slightly, a display of humility that made her unwilling to meet his eye again. Tension entered her jaw as she set it firmly in place, fingers tightening around the books she carried as he continued talking.

The Eídisi had come to a decision. She would show her maturity by conceding that she had been largely immature before. However, it was a bitter pill to swallow, especially as the girl had allowed herself to believe that she was so very independent and more of an adult than her racial peers were willing to see. To admit otherwise was not simply uncomfortable but utterly humiliating and so when he finally finished his speech, politely dismissive of her, Maebella inhaled abruptly and then launched into the words she'd silently rehearsed before she changed her mind.

"I have been hasty in my judgements. I'm sure that the Lady Belwyn will be more understanding than I give her credit for being. You shouldn't listen to a girl such as me. Although I'm probably older than you in arcs, I'm still viewed as a child within my own race, whereas you have evidently attained adulthood. Forgive me for my childish words," she explained in a quick whisper, evident pain tinging her voice and drawing a crease between her brows. "Of course, I'll be happy to obey someone who's clearly my superior in maturity. It isn't far to the Restoration Room but the way can be strange to someone unused to it."

Having sufficiently debased herself, the young woman bowed her head once more and led the way down to the furthermost shelves on the top floor. From there, she balanced the books she carried against her hip with one hand while she used the other to open a discreet door. There was a cramped hallway beyond. She righted her books, keeping the door open with her knee as she nodded into the space.

"The most immediate doors lead to the Archives. Access to those are restricted so they should be locked but there's a little twist at the end and a side passage. Head down that and you'll find the door to the Restoration Room. May you fare well in your endeavours," Maebella murmured, stepping back and moving to head back into the greater section of the floor. She would shelve these books and then return to the sorting shelves below for more. If all went well, she would manage to avoid the noble for the rest of the day unless Lady Belwyn sent him looking for damaged books. She just needed to be out of his way until her embarrassment subsided.
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Caius Gawyne
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Who Do You Think You Are? (Caius)

Caius watched the young blue-skinned woman's countenance falter, dim, and while he normally would have felt the comfortable rush of superiority at the sight, he wasn't convinced that such a sensation was warranted. Strangers, especially culturally speaking, often misunderstood and questioned, and questioning exhaustively was perhaps an unspoken domain of Yvithia herself. They'd both misspoken in their own way, the young Gawyne deduced, and he frowned a little once she began to apologize,

"Look, you don't have to—I didn't mean—for Fates' sake—" Caius decided not to interrupt, although even in apologies, Maebella was a long-winded creature. The door she led the pair of them to was discreet, and while he probably could have found it on his own eventually, he wouldn't have even known to enter it had someone else gave him permission,

"Maebella," He hovered, hesitant to be dismissive but annoyed at the both of them, fingers scratching his left wrist, a familiar date inked under his skin, "I know very little of the Eídisi people, I'll admit, but there's no need to apologize to me."

Bogs, he sarding hated dealing with ... this stuff.

The delicate steps of keeping relationships—the dance of the politician or the socialite—they made him nauseated. She'd just asked him questions, as was her race's want to do. So far from home, was there such a need to get his breeches twisted over some accusation of illegitimacy? What did it matter in Viden, anyway, save for some interesting stories? Did he really sarding care about what his title meant to him anyway?

Maybe, just maybe, he did.

He just didn't necessarily know if he understood his place wearing it.

Caius shrugged, unguarded, "I don't think maturity is at all the issue, and I'm sarding certain I'm not one to be used as a measure by which to go by on much of anything of that nature. Trust me." He shook his head, holding the door once he was through it so as to hover between the two spaces while the blue-skinned woman balanced her books and gave him directions. His gaze was a warm blue,

"Thank you, again, for showing me the way. However Lady Belwyn feels about my tardiness will be my consequence." He grinned then, a crass thing in noble's skin, and offered a cheeky sort of wave before he turned and made his way down the hall, restless hands smoothing his disheveled self before finding his way toward the Restoration Office.
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