• Closed • A Well-Deserved Reprieve [Padraig, please]

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Saun 13, 717

OOC

Time doesn’t matter to me, so just let me know. I’m also happy to move the date. I’m … really flexible. I thought about drinking a beer at the Four in Hand, but then … well, this amused me more. Teehee. Beer anytime, though. Seriously.

Trials ago, Pash had promised a drink, though all those trials ago, the drink the tall Biqaj had most likely had on his mind had not been tea. He hadn’t meant at the Scholar’s Nook, either. Definitely not. And yet, like all things on Scalvoris, nothing ever happened quite as planned. At least, not to date as far as he could tell. Or at least not for most people he knew. Maybe there was one individual on the whole island who had everything happen just as they knew it should, every trial, but he wasn’t quite sure he really wanted to meet that person.

Stranger than the Scalvblack tea on the table, however, were the books. To say that the seafaring musician was at all literate would have been a generous statement, though he could, indeed, read—albeit at a pace that was not even remotely scholarly. He preferred books with pictures, to be honest (his most preferred format being charts and maps), but the ones he’d chosen were an even mix of both, if musical notes could be categorized as pictures in some way. They might as well have been, honestly, for Pash’s musical education had not included textbooks or classroom assignments, written compositions or music theory, but the more time he spent in a town so filled with inescapable, blossoming academia, the more curious he’d found himself to know what the fuss was all about.

Now that he’d seen, he still wasn’t convinced, even as his calloused fingers traced a steady line underneath the introductory words to the music theory book that Flea had assured him (for what felt like half a break even if they’d only talked for a few bits) was fit for someone as uneducated as himself. Maybe if he made it past this wordy preface, the book would get interesting. He’d seen some notation on chords and notes and major and minor scales as he’d thumbed through the book in the stacks, but it seemed as though he’d have to work through some verbiage to get to the good stuff. Theory sounded like something he should know about—playing by ear and improvising had gotten him this far, if only because he clearly possessed more than just a little natural talent, perhaps more like a musical gift, much to the chagrin of his shipwright of a father—but why something important needed such a fluffy introduction escaped him.

The irony of superfluous words annoying the talkative bard was completely lost on him, however, warm mug in his other hand, foot tapping a steady beat, as actual studying went on around him.

Well, at least he had tea.

[Padraig]

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These trials of late, it felt to Padraig as if he spent as much time in the library as he did in the classroom. Sometimes, as a student himself, pouring over texts and star charts related to his study of physics and astrophysics or refining the details of this project or that.

Other times, it was as a professor of physics, in order to meet with a student who was either struggling with one of his classes, or one who was simply more demanding than others. The young man that Padraig had sent on his way just bits before Pash wandered along, was one of the latter, and if the young professor and scholar was honest, the exercise in futility had frayed his nerves a little.

It was enough to make him ponder the wisdom of foregoing entrance exams prior to the admittance of any given individual before admittance. As it was, if there was money or influence enough, then no matter how obtuse the prospective, they were in. Sure, the concept of 'survival of the fittest' tended to weed them out fairly quickly. But in the meantime?

Somehow this kid had managed to beat the odds. How was it possible for someone to leap in, hand raised to every question asked in class, and get every single one of them wrong? Statistically speaking, it shouldn't be possible. Even stabs in complete darkness, frequently repeated, ought to yeild the occasional cry of anguish.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between fingers and thumb, Padraig was busy wondering how he might either give the process of elimination a gentle nudge in this case...or more in line with his nature...somehow break through a stone wall of wilful ignorance, when he caught sight of Pash and his book of music theory. He frowned curiously in response and pushed a star chart to the side. Somehow he'd imagined the bard to be more a play by the seat of his pants sort of musician, much like himself and alchemy. "This is a surprise," he said as a way to catch the other man's attention. "Seeking out inspiration for your next epic," he asked with a slight grin.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Inspiration in th’ tea ‘r th’ books?” The tall Biqaj chuckled, two fingers pausing to mark his meager place in the volume he’d been slowly attempting to make headway into. The tea was clearly more inspirational at the moment. He was only on the second page, truth be told, but the valiant effort was perhaps only appreciated by himself, for he couldn’t remember the last time he’d finished a book from cover to cover, if ever, “Nah, I jus’ thought m’haps I should try an’ know th’ brainy stuff behind what I do. I can play jus’ fine by ear an’ improvise on a whim, but there’s folks out there who write stuff down so other people can play ‘t. I like th’ thought o’ that, an’ no one’s ever taught me ‘bout th’ technical side o’ things. I was jus’ … curious. I s’pose this place be wearin’ on me a bit, eh?”

He grinned in return, lagoon blue gaze shifting to emerald in his amusement, though he briefly looked from Padraig himself to what he was carrying, familiar with the stars and their courses in a way that was also far from academic in nature, some strange mix of necessity and romanticism as both a sailor and a Biqaj, “T’ be honest, I sorta jus’ wanted one book, but Flea insisted on findin’ me a whole shelf of ‘em an’ t’ slip outta conversation b’fore m’ tea got cold, I took all three o’ them. I’m no’ a big reader, in case y’ couldn’t guess on your own.”

Pash laughed in a self-depreciating sort of way and shifted in his seat to push one of his empty chairs in the other man’s direction with a sandaled foot as an unspoken offer for him to sit, not at all in an attempt to damage a kneecap, “Y’ here t’ look those over?” He angled his bearded chin at the charts Padraig had stuffed under one arm, curious if only because he’d come to realize he was just barely vaguely aware of what the man taught and studied and dabbled in, outside of both intentional and unintentional adventuring as well as other more mundane but no less exhilarating tasks like preparing for a wedding, among other things, “Are those for class ‘r yourself?”

[Padraig]

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"This place does seem to be spilling over with scholars," Padraig said and grinned a little as he and Pash ended up at the same table. Not just this place in particular, filled with books from floor to ceiling, but Scalvoris itself.

"It's not just the presence of the university," he added thoughtfully, "but that the area is the perfect location for one. The unusual nature of Scalvoris I think attracts them all on its own." After all, the presence of the volcano, the ice caves, Immortal's tongue and the best view of the heavens on all of Idalos, the scientists would come. Along with the philosophers, who in spite of their insistence to the contrary, were not scientists in Padraig's humble opinion.

He had no idea though that there were so many books devoted to music. Clearly though, there were, and Padraig took a quick look inside of them that that Pash had with him. A page filled with musical scores and he frowned, "And people claim that the tables in my chemistry books too closely resemble some sort of secret code. Like yourself and music, my knowledge of alchemy and chemistry is self-taught, mostly through experimentation rather than reading. I guess though," he added with a dry grin, "Handling music in the same way, at least doesn't come with the risk of inadvertently blowing yourself up."

"The star charts for my own studies," he said of the scrolls he had with him. "I teach physics to the entry level students but the focus of my charter is astrophysics," Padraig explained. 'I've just finished meeting with a student." That brought a brief and faint frown to his face but it went as quickly as it had come. "Saun of course may seem like a strange time to be studying the stars," he admitted. "But when you consider that our own sun, or suns, are just that, then it begins to make a bit more sense." What better opportunity after all to get an up close and personal perspective on the way the stars moved and interacted, than by observing just two with all the rest blotted out? Temporarily, at least.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

”Better students ’n scientists than pirates an’ slavers.” Pash offered his agreement, now able to say that he had first-hand understanding of just how unusual the varied natures of Scalvoris island really were.

While he was sure there were plenty who’d come not only to further their knowledge but also line their pockets should they find something worthwhile to the rest of the world, the seafaring musician generally felt as though those seeking to learn were less likely to be out to take advantage of those who were not of the same educational caliber, unlike disgusting sea thieves who cared little except for their own selfish gain. Perhaps there were scholars who weren’t so far off from pirates, but Pash himself had a very difficult time imagining such a sight.

At the mention of explosions and music, the tall Biqaj chuckled, “Have y’ no’ been in th’ middle ‘f an angry audience? Close ‘nough, I’d say, t’ any fiery explosion combinin' th’ wrong reagents can cause.” It’d been a while since he’d been the source of such a body-filled conflagration, but he had memories, mostly of places like Bayward and Rharne, where a drunk, displeased crowd was definitely no different from a chemical reaction that resulted in shrapnel and burned flesh.

“So y’ did all that readin' an’ studyin’ on your own? Outside o’ school? But they let you teach?” Pash wondered if Padraig had more charm than he let on, then, to have convinced stuffy college chair-holders to such a deal. Not that he at all doubted the other man’s charisma, what with his glowing weaponry and commendable steadfastness, no, for he’d proven himself more than capable of such to the only person in all of Idalos for whom it mattered (and she was sufficient). The salty bard just had no concept of academics, and so he doubted he could be at all convincing to anyone that his musical ability didn’t need some sort of certificate to back up its authenticity, short of playing them an Ethilem-infused melody.

Perhaps it had been mentioned to the tall Biqaj in passing once or twice in his life that the suns were no different than the twinkling lights he could see in a special way because of U’Frek’s hand in his peoples’ creation. However, the idea that the suns were stars still sounded alien from Padraig, for the bright burning objects were so close and seemed so different, but their predictable courses indeed made his statement make sense,

“Th’ suns ‘re stars, too … are y’ sure? But y’ can’t look at ‘em for long—they’ll make y’ blind says m’ Uncle Yarik. I can look at th’ stars all night long, all trial in Cylus ‘f I want, an’ nothin’ happens. I can even see ‘em in ways you can’t as a Biqaj—“ He nodded his sun kissed head at the scrolls in curiosity, wondering if looking at the heavenly bodies on paper was the same as recognizing them all in the night sky, “—did’ja know m’ people have a connection t’ th’ constellations an’ th’ planets so we can navigate at sea?”

He wasn’t bragging so much as curious, this one less situational connection with the other man one of those things that happened to feed the seafaring minstrel's insatiable hunger for people instead of things. Pash moved tea and books to make room should Padraig be willing to give him a look, for he kept to paper copies of star charts on his sloop because he’d never needed them, their names and their courses a mysterious part of his very being.

[Padraig]

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Better than pirates and slavers? Padraig smiled and shrugged, sipping the tea that had been brought round for him. "Perhaps. But that's assuming that all students, then scientists, take up their trades for the best, most honest of reasons. For good, or in the simple pursuit of knowledge. But like anyone else, choosing any other realm of reason or profit, it's simply not the case."

Alchemists for example, were wizards in their own right. And not all wizards had the good of others at heart. "If I wanted, I might be able to make you bray like a donkey for all the world to hear, by simply putting a drop of...something, in your tea," he added with a grin. He wouldn't of course. He wasn't that kind of alchemist or wizard. But it was an interesting idea.

"A little knowledge is a powerful, but also a dangerous thing." Perhaps Pash was right, so far as disgruntled audiences were concerned. But he'd likely never find out. He wasn't a singer, player or actor and wouldn't pretend to be. "I teach the one subject that I've studied formally," he clarified. "Math, chemistry, alchemy, those things are self-taught, in part, and part learned informally for others. Physics however is my official field of study. And I'm sure," he added, regarding the sun, the twin suns. At least for now in Saun.

"They are stars, perhaps small, maybe large, not unlike any other star out there," he insisted. "I knew that about your people, and if they truly recognize that there are other worlds, even worlds like ours, revolving around suns much like our own, then they are ahead of some of my fellow students, who insist that thinking like that is as good as heresy."

Either way, he confirmed that Pash was correct. Looking directly into the sun's light was foolhardy, and could result in blindness. However Padraig was working on lenses for his telescope that would allow for observation without the inherent danger of gazing with the naked eye. "The reasons that it's safe to gaze at the stars...out there," he explained by pointing to the wide expanse on the map well away from Idalos, are complicated. "Distance is just a small part of the reason why."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“O’aye, I’ll give y’ that.” Pash agreed from over the rim of his own cup of tea, “Jus’ ‘cause someone’s educated certainly doesn’t mean they have th’ best ’f intentions. I mean, anyone can make bad choices. An’ they do. All th’ damn time.” He was hardly an exception, honestly, but he didn't need to say that out loud. The other man knew already.

Plenty of people in the world were smart, but not smart or kind or good, regardless of their skill set or level of studiousness. It was true, however, that everyone had that choice to make—for good or not. Knowledge was a powerful weapon one could either use for their own profit or for the sake of others, honestly, and Idalos was proof enough that most chose the former, not the latter, even the Immortals themselves who had so much more at their disposal than he could entirely comprehend.

“I’ll admit, I don’ know much ‘f alchemy, save for bits an’ pieces o’ your work ‘round Cally’s an’ what Faith brags on you ‘bout, along with th’ kinds o’ rumors folks whisper in taverns o’er their drinks.” Pash grinned, lighthearted but admittedly curious. He’d heard here and there about the sorts of mysteries alchemy could accomplish, from thwarting magic to the very abilities granted by Immortals themselves to apparently causing one to make animal noises by slipping something into your drink. Hopefully it could at least taste good, that. “I’ve had ideas every once an’ a while that’d probably find answers in alchemy, but that doesn’t mean I remember any ‘f ‘em right now.”

He didn’t. His creative process did not often include writing things down, mostly because his handwriting was abysmal enough that trying to remember by re-reading his notes would have been just as much of a challenge than simply committing something to memory. He’d never finished the comprehensive Ne’Haer educational system, let alone followed up much on his own unlike the other man.

He’d gotten by on what he was good at and could grin his way through the rest when he had to. Taking notes was just not in his skillset, unlike remembering faint overheard melodies from some crowded tavern or the colors of obscure feelings some stranger only felt once.

He considered Padraig’s description of the stars, especially the suns. He hadn’t really thought of them being the same as the other bodies of light he used for guidance in the night sky, but when told, it all sort of made sense to the seafaring musician. His only objection was what he had voiced before—the strange difference between what he could stare at and what he couldn’t. Distance made sense, but there was more,

“I’ve never heard tell o’ such things outright ‘cept in stories an’ such, but I s’pose there’s talk among th’ Biqaj that there’s more ’n jus’ stars out there. It’s songs an’ tales, sometimes lessons grandfathers give their grandchildren on how t’ navigate an’ what t’ look for. There are stars that don’t twinkle—those aren’t stars. They must be somethin’ else—they have names t’ us an’ move in predictable ways that help us t’ navigate th’ Orm’del an’ elsewhere dependin’ on th’ season. Is that what y’ mean?”

He could name them, in Rakahi, and point a few out depending on the season and where he was—Scalvoris skies were very different from Ne’Haer because of how far north and east he was from where he once called home, but he’d come to note that sometimes the constellations and stars he knew as familiar simply arrived into view at different breaks than he was used to, not that they had disappeared entirely. A few he had once seen in one season appeared in another as well, as if Idalos was angled differently depending on one’s location on it. Pash was not sure what that actually meant, in scientific terms, but he knew certain facts simply by necessity.

“What else be there, b’sides distance? Y’know, like swimmin, th’ deeper y’go, th’ less light there is. So, is there somethin’ in th’ way?”

More than music theory had, this conversation had already clearly piqued the salty bard’s interest. He perhaps had taken the night sky for granted, and shifted in his seat with obvious curiosity, elbows on the table and calloused fingers toying with the warm handle of his tea. He could read books whenever he wanted, but Padraig was an elusive creature to get seated at his table for conversation. It seemed much easier to catch up to him in some kind of unexpected sort of battle, not simply for conversation and a restful cup of tea.

[Padraig]

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"Rumors?" Padraig quipped with a crooked grin when Pash mentioned it. Would it surprise him? Not really. And there was something about the prospect of 'that mad alchemist', that appealed, even if nothing could be farther from the truth. "There are a lot of tricky circumstances or conundrums that might be easy enough to address with a little applied chemistry or alchemy," he admitted. "It doesn't always mean it's the most desired answer, or even the most practical one. Often the simplest or most obvious, turns out to be the better answer." But he was a scientist not just by trade but by nature. He'd always opt to search for the alternatives.

He'd always been told that the Biqaj knew more about the stars and...out there, than other races of mortals. Intuitively. Padraig sensed that in large part it was true, though there might be some ego involved since it had been said by the Biqaj themselves, as often as not. Still. "True enough. Stars that aren't stars. There are several things that make that seem far more likely than not. Our suns are stars, they radiate light. They don't twinkle in the same way as far off stars do for any number of reasons. But Idalos doesn't radiate it's own light. Light from the suns is reflected off of it." Which explained, he added, why some of those other 'stars' didn't twinkle in the night sky. They were other bodies either like Idalos or not, that were reflecting the light shone on them by other nearby stones, but putting out none of their own. Which was why they didn't twinkle.

Pushing one of the blank sheets of paper across the table, Padraig encouraged Pash to write down the names of those constellations that his people could name, and then point them out on one of the star charts. As for the question about distance, the scholar shrugged. "Distance is a large part of the reason that we aren't blinded by looking at the stars...out there, but can be by gazing on our own suns. The exception of course is that it's much safer to look at the sun just rising over the horizon or disappearing behind it. At that point, much of the damaging light is blocked out." But there was more than just distance involved. Some wasn't known yet, but ever star was different, as observed through a telescope.

There was luminosity and magnitude to consider. Size. "Consider our own two suns. They aren't exactly the same size, or exactly the same brightness. It could be, that out there somewhere there is a star that burns a million, ten million times brighter than either of our own two suns. It may be visible, and yet far more distance than any other star that we can see. If it were as close as one of our own, in all likelihood its proximity would reduce Idalos and everything on it to a rotating lump of coal. Or incinerate it into nothing at all. So, how long have you been playing and singing? I imagine since you were very young?" he asked.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash tended to agree that simple was best, even though he wasn’t always careful with his words when it came to keeping them from overflowing.

Better now, perhaps, but still with room for improvement.

The tall Biqaj eyed the sheet of paper that was passed his way warily, for clearly Padraig had no idea just how abysmal his handwriting was nor how limited his literacy was. He wanted him to spell the ones he knew correctly and write them neatly? He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment and handed the paper back, "Ze, it’s better I tell you an’ you write them down if y’ hope t’ get any use out o’ th’ words later. Trust me on that."

Pash admitted to his poor literacy with a shy grin—he could read much better than he could write but honestly wasn’t that impressive at either, whether in Common or in his fluent Rakahi—but he was happy to carefully list the names of constellations and other heavenly bodies he knew of even if he didn’t know what, exactly they were. Most of the names were, of course, much more familiar to him in Rakahi and he attempted to translate as best he could, though constellations were obviously wrapped up in legends and story and literal translations were clumsy but memorable. There were comets that moved across the sky at regular intervals of arcs (sometimes decades) and meteor showers that happened twice or three times an arc in seemingly regular cycles, and other bodies in the sky that did not follow the rules or patterns of stars, especially the ones that didn’t twinkle, ones that the other man implied might also be some kind of not-star like Idalos.

Once he’d named what he could, which was quite a bit, careful not to get lost on tangents telling the stories of the constellations so much as their usefulness, he could look at the star charts and point out those he definitely knew. Admittedly, he was no expert despite all of his traveling, more so for lack of research on his part. He knew enough to get by, to sail to Scalvoris from Ne’Haer and plenty of places in-between, but he’d gotten plenty lost plenty of times. The ocean was not the friendliest place to get lost in, either, so it was in his opinion only by the kindness of U’Frek his Maker that he was around to share what he knew, anyway.

Of course, all of Padraig’s knowledge on what things were and how things actually worked held the seafaring musician’s attention in a way it probably wouldn’t have arcs ago. To see things for what they really were was a story all its own, not just a legend passed down through song, but something more.

That said, did he want to think about a star a million times brighter than their two suns in Saun?

No, no he did not.

"Singin’? All m’ life. It’s prob'ly somethin' ‘f a Biqaj thing t’ sing an’ tell stories—true ones ‘r no’, so I think jus’ ‘bout everyone can sing. An’ if they can’t, they still do. But I’m a shipwright’s son, no’ a musician’s, an’ m’ da'at—m’ father—had it in his mind that I’d follow after him. M’ grandfather taught me th’ lute in m’ teens, an’ I s’pose one could say that was his mistake." Pash answered the other man’s question with a wry sort of grin, as if there was more to the implied mistake than he could say in a sentence or two.

"Haven’t put it down since, though. An’ I left Ne’Haer t’ go playin’ an’ singin’ across Idalos ’n arc 709—instead o’ becomin' a shipwright’s apprentice on th’ official, y’ could say. M’haps a bit t’ th’ chagrin o’ m’ folks, but we’re on good terms these trials. It were rough seas a bit, though I think they knew I wasn’t good at sittin’ still—" He may have shifted in his seat for emphasis or the tall Biqaj may have shifted in his seat because he couldn’t help it, chuckling from over the last of his tea, "—I haven’t really grown out o’ that, though."

Every time Pash said the amount of time that had passed over the Orm’del, he surprised himself a little, though he’d been home several times over the arcs, he’d never returned to settle there. Or anywhere. He wasn’t really sure if he’d ever settle anywhere that wasn’t shaped like a boat and sailed the sea,

"I know b’ your accent, you’re not a Scalvorian, you an’ Faith both traveled here from elsewhere, eh? Though I don’ think I’m one t’ put down roots in one place if it’s no’ th’ sea, this be quite th’ Isle t’ call home."

[Padraig]

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Was Pash's penmanship poor? Chances were, Padraig's was as bad or worse. His professor had complained about it more than once. Even he could admit that much of what he jotted down in his notebooks, observations, theories and the like, might resemble a sort of secret code to anyone not familiar with reading his texts. He hadn't made much effort to improve. Most often, it felt as if his thoughts, ideas and revelations simply raced through his mind too quickly to worry about legibility when he recorded them. No matter then, if Pash preferred to share what knowledge his people had of the stars while the scholar recorded it, it suited the young professor just fine.

"I speak a little rakahi," he revealed when the bard attempted to translate for him. "Not fluently by any means, but well enough." Of course it was also possible, Padraig added as he wrote down the name of a particular constellation, that what the Biqaj called a particular grouping of stars, was known elsewise or not at all by another group of people, or even scientists themselves. Biqaj-centric, he suggested, though the information was valuable when it came to comparisons and cross-references.

"Some of these legends, for example," he explained, "may arise from events that occurred before recorded history. They may stem from an attempt to explain occurrences that baffled our forefathers. I can only imagine that our forebears might have been uncommonly unnerved by the sun disappearing completely for half a season, or by meteors...balls of light racing across the night-sky." He grinned though at the suggestion that everyone could sing. "I cannot sing," he proclaimed, "and the most effort I make is an occasional whistle." Then again, perhaps it was relative. He couldn't sing. Or he might simply say, he couldn't sing well.

He was born and raised in Venora, Padraig revealed, and eventually ended up in Rynmere where he'd met Faith. "I was her tutor," he said. "And I attended university there for a season. But Scalvoris? I can't imagine anyplace I'd rather live. On a personal level of course. But as a scientist, no matter the type, there's no other place like it. And the view of the stars, when they're out, can't be beat."