As much as it makes you antsy to take time off from the more direct pursuit of your mission you’ve often been assigned to under the Walker in Darkness’s command, you have to admit that this is… close to what you used to want. His sister Deathlord the Illuminated Seer Beneath Tenebrous Skies lacks military minds, and while you’re not entirely sure why you need to attend her lectures, you’re not… arguing, exactly.
You hear some of the Deathlords have some rather repugnant tastes as far as their personal life activities, but the Seer seems to be a quiet academic, if the kind of genius it’s hard to talk to. She consults you on answers to questions of strategy at a theoretical level, and then bustles off to give orders that seemingly have nothing to do with the question asked.
A ghost takes notes for her on the chalkboard as she speaks at the front of the lecture hall at the center of her manse. Today’s topic is the history of the ancient language of the Dragon-Kings, a lizardlike people you’ve never had chance to encounter in your life, but you have always liked languages, so you try and take notes, even though you keep having to scratch them out and repeat them as she patiently but repeatedly corrects her ghostly servant on his script.
As you’re on your way out, you hear your name called. “Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Rain?” the Seer says, in her gentle, slightly-wispy voice. “If you have a moment.”
“If,” as if that’s a question. Obediently, you turn on the ball of your foot, and make your way down the steps.
“With what can I assist you, Milady?” you ask, tucking your notebook under your arm.
She peers up at you from behind her spectacles, and underneath her slightly wild mane of ashy-greenish hair. “I was wondering, Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Rain, what you thought of my lecture today.”
“It’s, ah—“ You fluster a little bit, at being addressed by your full title. “Rain is fine, Milady.”
“Is that the only thing you’d prefer to be addressed by?”
You’ve always been keenly attuned to what other people want, even when they don’t say it, and it strikes you that she seems to have an answer in mind—but you don’t know what it is.
After a moment of hesitation, you shake your head. “No, Milady. Just Rain. But it was very educational—I’ve not had experience with the language before, but I think I’ve picked up a little, at least.”
She looks at you again like she’s inspecting something, but instead of asking further questions just lays one hand gently on your cheek. You still your movements, not sure what to do, until finally she steps back and smiles. “I expect no less,” she says, in a slightly faraway tone. “I’d like it if you keep attending. I’d be interested to see what you can learn.”
You let out your held breath very slowly, trying to make it look natural. “Of course,” you say, and smile.
Once you’re out of the lecture hall, though, you realize your hands are shaking.
Notable:
White-haired Shrike.
One of the other "students" in the lecture hall seems to be the Rider, from Memory 14.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
softlyfalling) wrote2019-01-24 12:53 am
memory 016
You hear some of the Deathlords have some rather repugnant tastes as far as their personal life activities, but the Seer seems to be a quiet academic, if the kind of genius it’s hard to talk to. She consults you on answers to questions of strategy at a theoretical level, and then bustles off to give orders that seemingly have nothing to do with the question asked.
A ghost takes notes for her on the chalkboard as she speaks at the front of the lecture hall at the center of her manse. Today’s topic is the history of the ancient language of the Dragon-Kings, a lizardlike people you’ve never had chance to encounter in your life, but you have always liked languages, so you try and take notes, even though you keep having to scratch them out and repeat them as she patiently but repeatedly corrects her ghostly servant on his script.
As you’re on your way out, you hear your name called. “Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Rain?” the Seer says, in her gentle, slightly-wispy voice. “If you have a moment.”
“If,” as if that’s a question. Obediently, you turn on the ball of your foot, and make your way down the steps.
“With what can I assist you, Milady?” you ask, tucking your notebook under your arm.
She peers up at you from behind her spectacles, and underneath her slightly wild mane of ashy-greenish hair. “I was wondering, Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Rain, what you thought of my lecture today.”
“It’s, ah—“ You fluster a little bit, at being addressed by your full title. “Rain is fine, Milady.”
“Is that the only thing you’d prefer to be addressed by?”
You’ve always been keenly attuned to what other people want, even when they don’t say it, and it strikes you that she seems to have an answer in mind—but you don’t know what it is.
After a moment of hesitation, you shake your head. “No, Milady. Just Rain. But it was very educational—I’ve not had experience with the language before, but I think I’ve picked up a little, at least.”
She looks at you again like she’s inspecting something, but instead of asking further questions just lays one hand gently on your cheek. You still your movements, not sure what to do, until finally she steps back and smiles. “I expect no less,” she says, in a slightly faraway tone. “I’d like it if you keep attending. I’d be interested to see what you can learn.”
You let out your held breath very slowly, trying to make it look natural. “Of course,” you say, and smile.
Once you’re out of the lecture hall, though, you realize your hands are shaking.
Notable: