[There are a few days at least a week of time that pass wherein Allumin, having fully intended to go sooner to pop in for a discussion has managed not to do it for one reason or another. It's the kind of "Well, I will try again tomorrow" that just keeps happening until it's embarrassing, and then in joining the Research division he hears a term that sounds familiar enough to make him want to bury his head in his hands for a while.
It's definitely outside of the recommended window of time when a new face appears awkwardly peering in around the corner of doorway into the Project Felandaris offices.]
Excuse me, would you be Madame de Foncé? [what was it Tony had said...?] ...de Fonz?
[For a moment, the young woman in question doesn't respond. It can't be due to having failed to hear him or even being too consumed in the work before her—which appears to be little more than sorting a great series of notes into the appropriate draws for some archaic filing system. And so for a split second, the answer must be plain. No, he clearly has the wrong—]
Oh! [In a swirl of brightly colored skirts, Wysteria twists away from her little organizational project forward the sound of, Yes actually. That is her name, isn't it?]
Yes, that's right. —Well, no it isn't at all. You mustn't take anything the Provost says too seriously. It's said like so: de Fon-sey.
[The very fantasy French surname sounds somewhat absurd in her very not fantasy French accent.]
And with whom am I speaking?
awesome! (i was gonna have him knock and then i remembered your thing about doors haha)
de Fon-sey... de Foncé? [He repeats it back a couple times to see if he's got it right.]
Ah, yes, sorry - Allumin Etsija. [Now that he's certain that this is definitely the place and person to speak to, he enters. His own attire is mostly the modest clothes given to him when he arrived with the addition of his own tunic made of fine blue and gold embroidered fabrics and white gloves, both of which he arrived with. He reaches out a hand to shake when he is an arm's length from her.]
I meant to come sooner but I sort of kept losing track of time - there's a lot to read here. [a small, nervous laugh.] And now I'm here to join Project Felandaris.
[Handshakes are not a thing a respectable Kalvadan lady does, yet Wysteria Poppell—Wysteria de Foncé has been in Thedas quite long enough that she is more or less prepared to receive his hand when it's offered. She is not wearing gloves; the acid green flare of the anchor in her off palm is in nauseatingly contrast to the bright blues and soft yellows of her day dress.]
It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Etsija. [You can tell due to the enthusiasm with which she pumps his hand up and down. Yes, she is a very accomplished shaker of hands.] I would welcome you to the project, but that would risk implying that I have some guiding hand in the whole thing whereas I am merely a—let a say a consultant. That sounds much better than hobbyist. The project has no leader at present, so we are all equal in the eyes of the Maker in this room.
[She laughs, a bright sound. This is an excellent joke for many reasons, not the least of which being the one where the Maker is notoriously uninterested in using his eyeballs for assessing any mortal creature, in this office or otherwise.]
Although I'm afraid that means you will find very little direction from this room either.
[His grip when she takes his hand is light but firm, with just a bit of pressure between his thumb and fingers. The enthusiasm is entertaining at first, and he laughs a bit as well.
And then the handshake is too much, so he pats her hand down still with his free one and then lets go.]
Ah - I understand what he meant now. ['...where our rift research goes to die.' Hm. And Joselyn was right too in saying anywhere would need the extra help.]
I'm no stranger to the initiative required in studying and working alone, so a lack of direction shouldn't be too much of a problem. At least, when it comes to everything on paper.
[He thinks a moment.] When you say consultant, what do you mean by that?
[She seems surprised by the question, her pale brows rising briefly unguarded toward her hairline before she arranges them into a more strictly impassive expression. No one has ever asked before.]
Well, I suppose that I mean it in the sense that I am merely an enthusiast for the work and not particularly attached to any one thing which the project purports to do. It was more relevant, [she adds hastily.] When Mister Stark was still overseeing the work. I didn't care to be involved with the filing of paperwork and so on, you see.
[No, she will not be your secretary Mister Stark. Not that he had asked, but that had hardly stopped her from being defiant on the point.]
Oh, I see. That makes sense. [Why does he have the feeling that the filing in question was probably a nightmare...?]
I suppose if I were working with another division or elsewhere in the Gallows I would probably still find my way here out of interest for it as well.
[Oh no, what if the filing still is a nightmare...? This thought hits him and his gaze seems to veer off into the middle distance as his soul metaphorically leaves his body for a moment. He blinks and a hand goes up to cover his face as he clears his throat.]
Pardon me, I just had a harrowing thought - shouldn't be an issue though. Hopefully. [The way his fears begin to materialize in the furrow of his brow would say otherwise.]
[Wysteria, something of an enthusiast for harrowing thoughts, seems to lean slightly forward where she stands. Like a moth to proverbial flame, there is nothing quite as fascinating as rooting out the cause of a person's outward distress so she might poke it with a stick.]
Oh? No pardons necessary. But you must indulge me, and tell me the details of this terrible conception.
[If her deflating expression is any indication, this is indeed a dreadfully dull confession.]
Oh, [Wysteria waves her hand dismissively.] Yes, more or less. The oldest of the files have yet to be fully integrated into the reformed categorization system. But a great bulk of the office's contents have been reorganized in accordance with it. It doesn't account, of course, for the relevant items which may have been misfiled with other projects or offices or what have you, but the great majority of the work houses within this office? Yes, that has been arranged.
[From the confidence of her tenor, it sounds suspiciously like she may have had at least a small hand in it despite all objection to the contrary.]
Sorry - I have less boring anxieties if you want to hear about those? [This seems like something he will regret offering, however he does feel a bit guilty for getting her hopes up only to dash them so immediately.]
[This is, of course, the point where any respectable person realizes they are being rude and so checks their enthusiasm with some laughter and perhaps an embarrassed apology before promptly changing the subject.
[Oh. Oh goodness. Wow, he really got himself into something didn't he?
He's frozen a bit as he tries to think over all the myriad things he's plagued by trying to think of what could possibly be the most interesting or entertaining at the very least, and he starts muttering to himself little things like "too simple, too reliant on context, probably boring, that's a bit um, no, not that..." Eventually, he thinks of something, maybe.
He takes off his left glove and shows in his palm a bit of silver embedded in it, like how one would patch up a crack on porcelain. There is also the glow of his anchor shard from the same hand.]
I do not know how much you remember from my survey off the top of your head, but I had mentioned that the Fade as a concept was not unfamiliar to me. I'd been doing some research on planar travel and teleportation magic, and how to employ it in ways that would be accessible to anyone, even people who can't cast magic. I do not remember all the specifics, which is terrifying in its own way, but part of this involved another plane of existence very similar to the Fade.
Before I came here, I came to learn I might have been a living anchor for that plane of existence to the material plane of my world. Someone else I know was in a similar position for a different place, and was covered in gold cracks all over their body. I imagine if I had been there longer, there would be more of this all over me to keep the Black Void from... leaking out? I guess? [Hopefully, he doesn't have to worry about that here? Just a different kind of existential body horror?]
[At the removal of the glove, Wysteria leans shamelessly forward by a few degrees for a marginally closer look. In this jutted forward position, she regards his hand and listens with perfect attentiveness as he explains the silver shape there.]
How fascinating. Is the condition ordinarily fatal?
[Isn't this a fun conversation, Allumin! Don't you love being a member of Research?]
Poor luck for the version of you left behind, [is a reflexive and thoughtless remark as she straightens. It's only after that she gives any consideration to gentling her assessment.]
And fine luck for yourself, I mean. If arriving here in Thedas does indeed stop the process. And I'm certain the you which was left behind will find some way of sorting the whole business. So you ought not to be at all concerned that you will disappear and have nothing to return to.
Ha! Haha, hmm. [There's nervousness all over the reflexive laugh that follows her words. He nods, biting his lip.]
Indeed - well, if I understand Provost Stark's theory correctly then I likely won't be going back to anything other than the oblivion before creation I suppose, so. No reason to worry about anything that much other than work.
[He tries to smile in a carefree manner, but it is absolutely not convincing.]
Edited (oops forgot a comma) 2021-10-05 22:40 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
➠ action; hopefully this is cool, squeaking in right before her anchor poisoning plot
at least a weekof time that pass wherein Allumin, having fully intended to go sooner to pop in for a discussion has managed not to do it for one reason or another. It's the kind of "Well, I will try again tomorrow" that just keeps happening until it's embarrassing, and then in joining the Research division he hears a term that sounds familiar enough to make him want to bury his head in his hands for a while.It's definitely outside of the recommended window of time when a new face appears awkwardly peering in around the corner of doorway into the Project Felandaris offices.]
Excuse me, would you be Madame de Foncé? [what was it Tony had said...?] ...de Fonz?
hell yea
Oh! [In a swirl of brightly colored skirts, Wysteria twists away from her little organizational project forward the sound of, Yes actually. That is her name, isn't it?]
Yes, that's right. —Well, no it isn't at all. You mustn't take anything the Provost says too seriously. It's said like so: de Fon-sey.
[The very fantasy French surname sounds somewhat absurd in her very not fantasy French accent.]
And with whom am I speaking?
awesome! (i was gonna have him knock and then i remembered your thing about doors haha)
Ah, yes, sorry - Allumin Etsija. [Now that he's certain that this is definitely the place and person to speak to, he enters. His own attire is mostly the modest clothes given to him when he arrived with the addition of his own tunic made of fine blue and gold embroidered fabrics and white gloves, both of which he arrived with. He reaches out a hand to shake when he is an arm's length from her.]
I meant to come sooner but I sort of kept losing track of time - there's a lot to read here. [a small, nervous laugh.] And now I'm here to join Project Felandaris.
my irl lol
It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Etsija. [You can tell due to the enthusiasm with which she pumps his hand up and down. Yes, she is a very accomplished shaker of hands.] I would welcome you to the project, but that would risk implying that I have some guiding hand in the whole thing whereas I am merely a—let a say a consultant. That sounds much better than hobbyist. The project has no leader at present, so we are all equal in the eyes of the Maker in this room.
[She laughs, a bright sound. This is an excellent joke for many reasons, not the least of which being the one where the Maker is notoriously uninterested in using his eyeballs for assessing any mortal creature, in this office or otherwise.]
Although I'm afraid that means you will find very little direction from this room either.
[She is still shaking his hand.]
no subject
And then the handshake is too much, so he pats her hand down still with his free one and then lets go.]
Ah - I understand what he meant now. ['...where our rift research goes to die.' Hm. And Joselyn was right too in saying anywhere would need the extra help.]
I'm no stranger to the initiative required in studying and working alone, so a lack of direction shouldn't be too much of a problem. At least, when it comes to everything on paper.
[He thinks a moment.] When you say consultant, what do you mean by that?
no subject
Well, I suppose that I mean it in the sense that I am merely an enthusiast for the work and not particularly attached to any one thing which the project purports to do. It was more relevant, [she adds hastily.] When Mister Stark was still overseeing the work. I didn't care to be involved with the filing of paperwork and so on, you see.
[No, she will not be your secretary Mister Stark. Not that he had asked, but that had hardly stopped her from being defiant on the point.]
no subject
I suppose if I were working with another division or elsewhere in the Gallows I would probably still find my way here out of interest for it as well.
[Oh no, what if the filing still is a nightmare...? This thought hits him and his gaze seems to veer off into the middle distance as his soul metaphorically leaves his body for a moment. He blinks and a hand goes up to cover his face as he clears his throat.]
Pardon me, I just had a harrowing thought - shouldn't be an issue though. Hopefully. [The way his fears begin to materialize in the furrow of his brow would say otherwise.]
no subject
Oh? No pardons necessary. But you must indulge me, and tell me the details of this terrible conception.
no subject
[what if the project was pretty much abandoned because the filing system was so bad that no one could get any work done?]
It's just, umm...
[what if everyone quit because of the paperwork?]
The filing system and such, how all the data is organized - [Allumin has gone pale and started to sweat.] it's not - ah - there is a system, I hope?
[otherwise, he knows what his first order of business will be if not.]
no subject
Oh, [Wysteria waves her hand dismissively.] Yes, more or less. The oldest of the files have yet to be fully integrated into the reformed categorization system. But a great bulk of the office's contents have been reorganized in accordance with it. It doesn't account, of course, for the relevant items which may have been misfiled with other projects or offices or what have you, but the great majority of the work houses within this office? Yes, that has been arranged.
[From the confidence of her tenor, it sounds suspiciously like she may have had at least a small hand in it despite all objection to the contrary.]
no subject
Ah. That's a relief.
Sorry - I have less boring anxieties if you want to hear about those? [This seems like something he will regret offering, however he does feel a bit guilty for getting her hopes up only to dash them so immediately.]
no subject
Wisteria, however—]
Oh, yes. If you wouldn't mind.
no subject
He's frozen a bit as he tries to think over all the myriad things he's plagued by trying to think of what could possibly be the most interesting or entertaining at the very least, and he starts muttering to himself little things like "too simple, too reliant on context, probably boring, that's a bit um, no, not that..." Eventually, he thinks of something, maybe.
He takes off his left glove and shows in his palm a bit of silver embedded in it, like how one would patch up a crack on porcelain. There is also the glow of his anchor shard from the same hand.]
I do not know how much you remember from my survey off the top of your head, but I had mentioned that the Fade as a concept was not unfamiliar to me. I'd been doing some research on planar travel and teleportation magic, and how to employ it in ways that would be accessible to anyone, even people who can't cast magic. I do not remember all the specifics, which is terrifying in its own way, but part of this involved another plane of existence very similar to the Fade.
Before I came here, I came to learn I might have been a living anchor for that plane of existence to the material plane of my world. Someone else I know was in a similar position for a different place, and was covered in gold cracks all over their body. I imagine if I had been there longer, there would be more of this all over me to keep the Black Void from... leaking out? I guess? [Hopefully, he doesn't have to worry about that here? Just a different kind of existential body horror?]
no subject
How fascinating. Is the condition ordinarily fatal?
[Isn't this a fun conversation, Allumin! Don't you love being a member of Research?]
no subject
I imagine so? The other person was quite ill by the time I met him. He even, uh, lost a finger shortly before my arrival here.
[He sweats a bit. Thinking about it even more, he really hopes this doesn't continue to be a problem here.]
no subject
And fine luck for yourself, I mean. If arriving here in Thedas does indeed stop the process. And I'm certain the you which was left behind will find some way of sorting the whole business. So you ought not to be at all concerned that you will disappear and have nothing to return to.
[Helpful.]
no subject
Indeed - well, if I understand Provost Stark's theory correctly then I likely won't be going back to anything other than the oblivion before creation I suppose, so. No reason to worry about anything that much other than work.
[He tries to smile in a carefree manner, but it is absolutely not convincing.]