LOG: Based on the law
Date: Day 27, Month 4, Turn 26
Location: Harper Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Kharven and apprentices talk ethics and exiles.
Harper Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
A thick door provides some soundproofing against the escape of sour notes and the chanting of Harper Ballads that are common in this room. Chalkdust from the blackboard lingers in the air, motes of the stuff catching the light from many glows clustered in a hanging basket in the middle of the ceiling as well as tucked into sconces around the walls.
Just inside the door, cubicles line one wall, each labeled with a child's name and containing various bits of lesson equipment: slates, chalk, scrap hide and paper, pens, ink and pots of glue. Long benches span the room, providing seating for at least fifty children between the ages of seven and fourteen; a tall wood screen stands folded near the middle of one wall, ready to divide the room into groups of older and younger students for more age-targeted study. Storage shelves along the back wall hold musical instruments for learning, mostly small hand drums and single bore pipes plus two rather battered xylophones.
It's just before dinner on a cool day in late month four, and most of the weyr's harper apprentices - including those on loan to the weyr for candidacy - are assembled in the practice rooms, at work on various projects. The weyr's senior harper, Journeyman Kharven, is grading papers at the desk, though this seems to be something easily interrupted: as it stands, he's busily in conversation with the youngest apprentice, Brielle, who has questions about ethics. "But what," she's asking, "do you do if you think it is morally right to make a judgement one way, even though legally, it should probably go the other?"
Grasping the evidence of many late nights work in her hands, Emme has slowly but surely made her way closer to the front of the classroom as papers are graded and questions are asked. Far too intrigued to even pretend to be working on something else, the oldest apprentice /evar/, leans against one of the tables nearby as she unabashedly listens in on the conversation; eyes flicking back and forth between the Journeyman and Brielle. Her interest may even be a little too sharp on this matter, even.
Off in one of the quieter areas, an apprentice is busy practicing his flute, nimble fingers working up and down the keys. Scales in the cycle of fifths -- F major, B flat major, E flat major -- the ones with the trickiest fingerings. He loses his 'lip' for a moment, rolling the flute back and forth to find the 'just right' spot before continuing into the shrill third octave. His focus is intense, so he misses much of the goings-on in the rest of the room until an untoward 'squeak!' from the flute makes him pause. He catches part of Brielle's question and stops playing completely, apparently thinking of his own answer to this tricky conundrum.
Kharven's attention is drawn away from Brielle at the sound of Tantaran's squeak; clearly, he's got his eyes and ears on /everything/ going on in here at the moment. His expression is encouraging, his nod apparently intending to convey something along the lines of 'give it another try' though his words are, equally clearly, aimed for Brielle. "What do /you/ think, Brielle? Emmeline-- your thoughts?"
Emmeline glances Tantaran's way, trying to follow the sequence of sound and the fingering used on the flute all at the same time. And it's clearly an effort attempting to meld the two activities in the mind, when she's snapped back to the present moment by Kharven's prompting. "Well... I supose that would depend on the situation I'd be rendering judgement on. Is there precedent? Could an interpretation of the law be applied that supports the more moral choice? And if not, to any of that, then I'd have to go with the legal choice, despite how I felt.. I think. If I can't be trusted to act based on the law, then people will have no trust in any judgement I make." Not that she likes her own answer, mind. But there it is.
"Good answer," Tantaran, the not-so-incredible flutist interjects as he lowers his instrument, practice put aside for the nonce. "But if there is no precedent to follow, I'd apply the law in the most moral fashion possible. But I hope something like this never comes up -- the laws should be fair and equitable enough to deal with any moral issues." But they aren't always....
Brielle frowns, admitting, "I'd like to think the law should be fair and equitable enough, too. And if it isn't, we should /change/ the law. That's what we do, isn't it?" Kharven seems pleased with his apprentices, and sets down his pen in order to consider each of them in turn. "We /have/ to apply the law," he confirms for them, running a hand through his dark hair. "Because if we circumvent it, why should anyone else obey it? We're not above the law. We /represent/ the law. But there will be times when you're all pulled in different directions. But yes, interpretation is the key. That's why every case is different. Justice cannot be served by rote."
This is like opening pandora's box, but the question slips past Emme's lips before she can tink twice about reigning it in. "What happens if it can be shown that people did, purposefully, circumvent the law? For political purposes?" she wonders, with a troubled tone. "I mean, the repercussions..." she trails off, then glancing at the other two apprentices and shaking her head. "Nevermind. That's probably not a question for today. It just had me wondering. What you said about us not being above the law. Nobody should be, really. Right?" She slips the piece of rolled up parchment she'd been holding onto Kharven's desk. "A song; with notes, and lyrics. About the exiles. It's not very good, but I thought maybe it might be... useful."
Tantaran dives right into that open box. "There are those who, by accident of birth," i. e. Blooded, "think that they are above the law, just like you said. These people usually have a lot of status in society and can influence the law to suit their own purposes -- or just ignore the law altoghether, as you just said." Could he have a grudge against Bloods for some reason...?
Though something unhappy crosses Kharven's expression for just a moment, he doesn't reign in the question, but keeps his silence throughout Tantaran's response. "No one should be above the law," he agrees. "And it's our job to try and make sure that it doesn't happen. But," he gives all three of them a serious glance, for all that Brielle has kept her silence, "We're all human. We, too, make mistakes. Did you want to perform it for us, Emmeline?" He's indicating her rolled up parchment with his forward-tilted head. "Or shall you and I go over it tomorrow, first? I," he hesitates. "admit that given the subject matter, I won't be sugggesting you perform it in /public/ just yet." And especially not that High Reaches Hold's upcoming gather.
Obviously Tantaran's response is going to intrigue the islander, Emme turning her head to look the other apprentice right in the eye. Thoughtful. She's curious but cautious apparently, as she doesn't actually say anything just yet. But, instead gives a small nod before looking back at Kharven and nodding more firmly. "Yes, yes we are." is agreed, though she shakes her head quickly in a 'hell no' adamant sort of way at the idea of performing the song. "No, no... going over it would be just fine. And it's not meant for performing in front of a large audience. This is more for the exile kids. So they don't forget their roots. Sort of like a lullabye I guess."
Tantaran turns back to his practice, opening a book to work on sight-reading.
Though Kharven's gaze lingers on Tantaran for a few moments more, when the apprentice turns back to his practice, the journeyman turns /his/ attention for focusedly onto Emmeline, particularly when Brielle goes back to her own work. "For the exile children? That's excellent. I've heard there are a number of concerns about them losing their culture; we don't really want that." He picks up the scroll, turning it over between his fingers rather than unrolling it. "It's good to see you keeping up with your studies, even while a candidate."
"Yes, I heard about that. Some of the concerns, I mean. It's important that they don't lose everything. Not that it will make life easier for them. But I imagine they'll appreciate it when they're older. I hope so anyway." Emmeline is happy to stay leaning up against one of the tables, bracing herself with the flat of her palms against the surface. "Are you kidding?" she jokes, looking back over her shoulder at the other apprentices. "If I'm going to make it out of an apprenticeship in less then 10 Turns I can't afford /not/ to keep up. Apparently some think I'm avoiding them or in hiding. Lessons, chores, more lessons..." she handwaves. "I'll be glad when those eggs crack, whether I'm left on the sands or not."
Kharven sets the roll of parchment down again, folding his hands in front of him upon the desk. "I understand there has also been a move to put more exiles into the nurseries, to give the children care in the hands of people familiar to them. I hope, between all these measures, we can give people some peace of mind." His dark gaze considers Emmeline thoughtfully, his stubble-covered chin bobbing just slightly into an approving nod. "It's a difficult time. Caught between, as it were. Unsure-- we /are/ pleased with your work. If you Impress, we'll be happy to continue your education once you have finished your weyrling training. And if not, well, your apprenticeship will still be here. You'll have to be careful, of course." Beat. "As harpers, we can't afford too many personal biases. Not if they threaten to influence our work."
"I know that Seani is there. And she's so good with the children. They'll surely be comfortable with more of us there with them." Is there really any point in addressing the fact that some will never be happy or at peace no matter what people do to reassure them? Emmeline just watches Kharven for a moment and twitches her shoulders slightly into a shrug. He's certainly smart enough to know what she can't really bring herself to say. "I.. thank you. I do want to continue with my studies. After graduation, or as an apprentice." The warning is taken as intended. Friendly, but there. And she gives a knowing smirk. "That is the hardest part. I'm already held at arm's length about some things, because I'm trying to approach things from a neutral perspective. And I can't blame them for it. Some of them are still my friends. And I'd like to help them, I won't lie about that. But I also won't lie for them. I know that I can't if I want to really do this."
The actual /names/ of those exiles spending time with the children are apparently beyond Kharven; he gives a vague nod for it, concentrating, instead, upon the rest of what Emmeline has to say. "That's right," he agrees, though he's careful to keep his tone neutral. "You can't lie for them. Neutrality is a difficult road. Most harpers run into it, if they practice law; that said, I suspect most have an easier path than you will. And if you Impress-- you may end up with three sides, all competing for your loyalty." Still, his smile is-- fond? Something akin to it, at least. "I'm sure you'll be fine. I know none of this is news to you. You'll have our support, of course."
Emmeline gives her response a moment of thought, glancing at the Journeyman intently before she decides to speak her piece again. "I know I may not be able to help them." she admits, finally. "All I have is my family's records. And they don't match the official ones. Everything else has been scrubbed. Like we never existed. And the current High Reaches Holder isn't going to just give up land or titles. That would be admitting a wrong." she ventures, trying to gauge how close to the mark she is based on his reaction. "I would defend any of the exiles because everyone deserves a good defense as part of the process. It's something our ancestors weren't given." And there she pauses again, fingers tapping against wood. "But I know I have to do it based solely on the law, if that happens. And most of all? I just want to make sure nobody has to go through what we did ever again. It wasn't fair, Kharven. So you can be sure I'll call on any support that's offered."
"Lord Rynien had nothing to do with your ancestors being exiled," remarks Kharven, his tone inclined towards neutral though he's watching Emmeline intently. "No, I don't think he'll have any interest in recognising any of your peers. Not like that." He hesitates, his mouth half open as though he's about to say something. Finally; "No, I don't think it was right. But without records to prove that, to prove that things weren't done properly, you've no leg to stand on. If such a thing came up..." He gives her a short nod. "You would have our support, I should think." Though from his expression, he doesn't really seem to think that this is likely.
"No, of course not." Emme agrees, shrugging at mention of Lod Rynien. "But then, we had nothing to do with our ancestors being exiled either." she points out, lips twisting in a wry smile. "You know how most of us feel about our stay here. And you know the Weyr is being paid to help keep us here. No, I can't really blame K'del for that before you say anything. We cost money and resources. Though I am /sure/ there's more to it then that, even above culture shock." Someone, it seems, is getting tired of playing monkey in the middle; and it's only going to get worse! Fun times. "Sometimes missing records can be obvious. I suppose I have to hope that not -all- records were missed. Or that somebody made note of what didn't happen. A trial. I know it's a long shot."
Kharven nods, cautiously, in response to everything Emmeline says, his expression otherwise unreadable. "Well," he says, finally. "I'll wish you luck with your research, then. For your sake - for the sake of the other exiles - I hope you do find something. Or, that accommodations can be made." He's careful not to say what /kind/ of accommodations. "To make people content. I imagine that's all we can do, when it comes down to it."
"Oh, it's not for me." Emme feels free and fine admitting that. "I've found my place. I'm more then happy being a Harper." Just, you know, not so much the Jr. Apprentice part. And being that she's not entirely lacking in intelligence, merely gives the Journeyman a knowing /look/. "Don't worry, I don't expect miracles. Nor do some of them deserve it. Others do deserve -something-, even if it's not what they've spent 80 Turns hoping for." Her sigh is both resigned and wistful. "I'll see you in the morning, sir. I'm certain you have plenty to do."
"If only it were as easy as some would like it to be," remarks Kharven, evenly, his words obviously not intended for Emmeline herself. "Have a good evening. We'll go over your song tomorrow; I'll take a look at it, tonight." He gives her another nod, his smile, again, edging towards 'fond'. He really does seem to genuinely like her.
"Thank you." Emme returns the smile, bordering on fond as well, and doesn't elaborate on what exactly she's thanking im for. It could be for some, or all, of the conversation really. "Remember I already said it's not any good. Try not to shred my fragile ego too much tomorrow, please." she adds over her shoulder before wandering out to try and find herself some of that dinner that's rumored to be served soon.
"Do I really have that reputation?" teases Kharven, his gaze following Emmeline as she leaves. He, alas, still has marking to do.
Location: Harper Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Kharven and apprentices talk ethics and exiles.
Harper Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
A thick door provides some soundproofing against the escape of sour notes and the chanting of Harper Ballads that are common in this room. Chalkdust from the blackboard lingers in the air, motes of the stuff catching the light from many glows clustered in a hanging basket in the middle of the ceiling as well as tucked into sconces around the walls.
Just inside the door, cubicles line one wall, each labeled with a child's name and containing various bits of lesson equipment: slates, chalk, scrap hide and paper, pens, ink and pots of glue. Long benches span the room, providing seating for at least fifty children between the ages of seven and fourteen; a tall wood screen stands folded near the middle of one wall, ready to divide the room into groups of older and younger students for more age-targeted study. Storage shelves along the back wall hold musical instruments for learning, mostly small hand drums and single bore pipes plus two rather battered xylophones.
It's just before dinner on a cool day in late month four, and most of the weyr's harper apprentices - including those on loan to the weyr for candidacy - are assembled in the practice rooms, at work on various projects. The weyr's senior harper, Journeyman Kharven, is grading papers at the desk, though this seems to be something easily interrupted: as it stands, he's busily in conversation with the youngest apprentice, Brielle, who has questions about ethics. "But what," she's asking, "do you do if you think it is morally right to make a judgement one way, even though legally, it should probably go the other?"
Grasping the evidence of many late nights work in her hands, Emme has slowly but surely made her way closer to the front of the classroom as papers are graded and questions are asked. Far too intrigued to even pretend to be working on something else, the oldest apprentice /evar/, leans against one of the tables nearby as she unabashedly listens in on the conversation; eyes flicking back and forth between the Journeyman and Brielle. Her interest may even be a little too sharp on this matter, even.
Off in one of the quieter areas, an apprentice is busy practicing his flute, nimble fingers working up and down the keys. Scales in the cycle of fifths -- F major, B flat major, E flat major -- the ones with the trickiest fingerings. He loses his 'lip' for a moment, rolling the flute back and forth to find the 'just right' spot before continuing into the shrill third octave. His focus is intense, so he misses much of the goings-on in the rest of the room until an untoward 'squeak!' from the flute makes him pause. He catches part of Brielle's question and stops playing completely, apparently thinking of his own answer to this tricky conundrum.
Kharven's attention is drawn away from Brielle at the sound of Tantaran's squeak; clearly, he's got his eyes and ears on /everything/ going on in here at the moment. His expression is encouraging, his nod apparently intending to convey something along the lines of 'give it another try' though his words are, equally clearly, aimed for Brielle. "What do /you/ think, Brielle? Emmeline-- your thoughts?"
Emmeline glances Tantaran's way, trying to follow the sequence of sound and the fingering used on the flute all at the same time. And it's clearly an effort attempting to meld the two activities in the mind, when she's snapped back to the present moment by Kharven's prompting. "Well... I supose that would depend on the situation I'd be rendering judgement on. Is there precedent? Could an interpretation of the law be applied that supports the more moral choice? And if not, to any of that, then I'd have to go with the legal choice, despite how I felt.. I think. If I can't be trusted to act based on the law, then people will have no trust in any judgement I make." Not that she likes her own answer, mind. But there it is.
"Good answer," Tantaran, the not-so-incredible flutist interjects as he lowers his instrument, practice put aside for the nonce. "But if there is no precedent to follow, I'd apply the law in the most moral fashion possible. But I hope something like this never comes up -- the laws should be fair and equitable enough to deal with any moral issues." But they aren't always....
Brielle frowns, admitting, "I'd like to think the law should be fair and equitable enough, too. And if it isn't, we should /change/ the law. That's what we do, isn't it?" Kharven seems pleased with his apprentices, and sets down his pen in order to consider each of them in turn. "We /have/ to apply the law," he confirms for them, running a hand through his dark hair. "Because if we circumvent it, why should anyone else obey it? We're not above the law. We /represent/ the law. But there will be times when you're all pulled in different directions. But yes, interpretation is the key. That's why every case is different. Justice cannot be served by rote."
This is like opening pandora's box, but the question slips past Emme's lips before she can tink twice about reigning it in. "What happens if it can be shown that people did, purposefully, circumvent the law? For political purposes?" she wonders, with a troubled tone. "I mean, the repercussions..." she trails off, then glancing at the other two apprentices and shaking her head. "Nevermind. That's probably not a question for today. It just had me wondering. What you said about us not being above the law. Nobody should be, really. Right?" She slips the piece of rolled up parchment she'd been holding onto Kharven's desk. "A song; with notes, and lyrics. About the exiles. It's not very good, but I thought maybe it might be... useful."
Tantaran dives right into that open box. "There are those who, by accident of birth," i. e. Blooded, "think that they are above the law, just like you said. These people usually have a lot of status in society and can influence the law to suit their own purposes -- or just ignore the law altoghether, as you just said." Could he have a grudge against Bloods for some reason...?
Though something unhappy crosses Kharven's expression for just a moment, he doesn't reign in the question, but keeps his silence throughout Tantaran's response. "No one should be above the law," he agrees. "And it's our job to try and make sure that it doesn't happen. But," he gives all three of them a serious glance, for all that Brielle has kept her silence, "We're all human. We, too, make mistakes. Did you want to perform it for us, Emmeline?" He's indicating her rolled up parchment with his forward-tilted head. "Or shall you and I go over it tomorrow, first? I," he hesitates. "admit that given the subject matter, I won't be sugggesting you perform it in /public/ just yet." And especially not that High Reaches Hold's upcoming gather.
Obviously Tantaran's response is going to intrigue the islander, Emme turning her head to look the other apprentice right in the eye. Thoughtful. She's curious but cautious apparently, as she doesn't actually say anything just yet. But, instead gives a small nod before looking back at Kharven and nodding more firmly. "Yes, yes we are." is agreed, though she shakes her head quickly in a 'hell no' adamant sort of way at the idea of performing the song. "No, no... going over it would be just fine. And it's not meant for performing in front of a large audience. This is more for the exile kids. So they don't forget their roots. Sort of like a lullabye I guess."
Tantaran turns back to his practice, opening a book to work on sight-reading.
Though Kharven's gaze lingers on Tantaran for a few moments more, when the apprentice turns back to his practice, the journeyman turns /his/ attention for focusedly onto Emmeline, particularly when Brielle goes back to her own work. "For the exile children? That's excellent. I've heard there are a number of concerns about them losing their culture; we don't really want that." He picks up the scroll, turning it over between his fingers rather than unrolling it. "It's good to see you keeping up with your studies, even while a candidate."
"Yes, I heard about that. Some of the concerns, I mean. It's important that they don't lose everything. Not that it will make life easier for them. But I imagine they'll appreciate it when they're older. I hope so anyway." Emmeline is happy to stay leaning up against one of the tables, bracing herself with the flat of her palms against the surface. "Are you kidding?" she jokes, looking back over her shoulder at the other apprentices. "If I'm going to make it out of an apprenticeship in less then 10 Turns I can't afford /not/ to keep up. Apparently some think I'm avoiding them or in hiding. Lessons, chores, more lessons..." she handwaves. "I'll be glad when those eggs crack, whether I'm left on the sands or not."
Kharven sets the roll of parchment down again, folding his hands in front of him upon the desk. "I understand there has also been a move to put more exiles into the nurseries, to give the children care in the hands of people familiar to them. I hope, between all these measures, we can give people some peace of mind." His dark gaze considers Emmeline thoughtfully, his stubble-covered chin bobbing just slightly into an approving nod. "It's a difficult time. Caught between, as it were. Unsure-- we /are/ pleased with your work. If you Impress, we'll be happy to continue your education once you have finished your weyrling training. And if not, well, your apprenticeship will still be here. You'll have to be careful, of course." Beat. "As harpers, we can't afford too many personal biases. Not if they threaten to influence our work."
"I know that Seani is there. And she's so good with the children. They'll surely be comfortable with more of us there with them." Is there really any point in addressing the fact that some will never be happy or at peace no matter what people do to reassure them? Emmeline just watches Kharven for a moment and twitches her shoulders slightly into a shrug. He's certainly smart enough to know what she can't really bring herself to say. "I.. thank you. I do want to continue with my studies. After graduation, or as an apprentice." The warning is taken as intended. Friendly, but there. And she gives a knowing smirk. "That is the hardest part. I'm already held at arm's length about some things, because I'm trying to approach things from a neutral perspective. And I can't blame them for it. Some of them are still my friends. And I'd like to help them, I won't lie about that. But I also won't lie for them. I know that I can't if I want to really do this."
The actual /names/ of those exiles spending time with the children are apparently beyond Kharven; he gives a vague nod for it, concentrating, instead, upon the rest of what Emmeline has to say. "That's right," he agrees, though he's careful to keep his tone neutral. "You can't lie for them. Neutrality is a difficult road. Most harpers run into it, if they practice law; that said, I suspect most have an easier path than you will. And if you Impress-- you may end up with three sides, all competing for your loyalty." Still, his smile is-- fond? Something akin to it, at least. "I'm sure you'll be fine. I know none of this is news to you. You'll have our support, of course."
Emmeline gives her response a moment of thought, glancing at the Journeyman intently before she decides to speak her piece again. "I know I may not be able to help them." she admits, finally. "All I have is my family's records. And they don't match the official ones. Everything else has been scrubbed. Like we never existed. And the current High Reaches Holder isn't going to just give up land or titles. That would be admitting a wrong." she ventures, trying to gauge how close to the mark she is based on his reaction. "I would defend any of the exiles because everyone deserves a good defense as part of the process. It's something our ancestors weren't given." And there she pauses again, fingers tapping against wood. "But I know I have to do it based solely on the law, if that happens. And most of all? I just want to make sure nobody has to go through what we did ever again. It wasn't fair, Kharven. So you can be sure I'll call on any support that's offered."
"Lord Rynien had nothing to do with your ancestors being exiled," remarks Kharven, his tone inclined towards neutral though he's watching Emmeline intently. "No, I don't think he'll have any interest in recognising any of your peers. Not like that." He hesitates, his mouth half open as though he's about to say something. Finally; "No, I don't think it was right. But without records to prove that, to prove that things weren't done properly, you've no leg to stand on. If such a thing came up..." He gives her a short nod. "You would have our support, I should think." Though from his expression, he doesn't really seem to think that this is likely.
"No, of course not." Emme agrees, shrugging at mention of Lod Rynien. "But then, we had nothing to do with our ancestors being exiled either." she points out, lips twisting in a wry smile. "You know how most of us feel about our stay here. And you know the Weyr is being paid to help keep us here. No, I can't really blame K'del for that before you say anything. We cost money and resources. Though I am /sure/ there's more to it then that, even above culture shock." Someone, it seems, is getting tired of playing monkey in the middle; and it's only going to get worse! Fun times. "Sometimes missing records can be obvious. I suppose I have to hope that not -all- records were missed. Or that somebody made note of what didn't happen. A trial. I know it's a long shot."
Kharven nods, cautiously, in response to everything Emmeline says, his expression otherwise unreadable. "Well," he says, finally. "I'll wish you luck with your research, then. For your sake - for the sake of the other exiles - I hope you do find something. Or, that accommodations can be made." He's careful not to say what /kind/ of accommodations. "To make people content. I imagine that's all we can do, when it comes down to it."
"Oh, it's not for me." Emme feels free and fine admitting that. "I've found my place. I'm more then happy being a Harper." Just, you know, not so much the Jr. Apprentice part. And being that she's not entirely lacking in intelligence, merely gives the Journeyman a knowing /look/. "Don't worry, I don't expect miracles. Nor do some of them deserve it. Others do deserve -something-, even if it's not what they've spent 80 Turns hoping for." Her sigh is both resigned and wistful. "I'll see you in the morning, sir. I'm certain you have plenty to do."
"If only it were as easy as some would like it to be," remarks Kharven, evenly, his words obviously not intended for Emmeline herself. "Have a good evening. We'll go over your song tomorrow; I'll take a look at it, tonight." He gives her another nod, his smile, again, edging towards 'fond'. He really does seem to genuinely like her.
"Thank you." Emme returns the smile, bordering on fond as well, and doesn't elaborate on what exactly she's thanking im for. It could be for some, or all, of the conversation really. "Remember I already said it's not any good. Try not to shred my fragile ego too much tomorrow, please." she adds over her shoulder before wandering out to try and find herself some of that dinner that's rumored to be served soon.
"Do I really have that reputation?" teases Kharven, his gaze following Emmeline as she leaves. He, alas, still has marking to do.