Boll in Review
Location: Caucus Office
Time: A day or so after Roa returned from Boll
Players: Roa and Sefton
Scene: Sefton gets Roa's impressions on her experience in Boll. In his way.
Caucus Office
As offices go, this one is fairly standard. Larger than most due to being shared, there are a pair of desks set facing each other in the center of the room. Each desk has a set of shelves running the length of the wall behind it and those shelves are filled with neatly organized scroll-tubes. The floor has been covered in a thick blue-and-black braided rug, and the wall not hidden behind shelves bears a tapestry that shows a Harper instructing a class of young students.
Brown. This is the color that dominates the little Telgari's skin, once so pale in the colder climates of Telgar and High Reaches. But Bollian sun seems to have made a Southerner of her, the only burn-red on the back of her neck. Having found the office empty, Roa has begun to walk along the walls, peering up at the labels on the scroll tubes without pulling any down. On her shoulder is her typical satchel, one hand resting on the straps. Her clothes are the typical Reachian fare. Everything looks mostly the same save for the far-darker skintone and, in general, a more relaxed look about her face and form.
The scrolls cover many subjects, according to their labels. Students past and present, old tests, curriculum lists, correspondence. The list goes on. The door opens silently, and Sefton pauses in the doorframe for a moment to observe his small student. Then he's speaking as he walks in, moving around to his desk. "Roa, you are returned to us. Quite transformed."
It is, perhaps, a testament to the relaxing powers of Boll that the girl does not jump out of her skin at the startle. Instead she looks over her shoulder, brows lifted in a sort of 'hmm?' expression, and then turns more fully to regard the Headmaster. "Good evening sir," she says with a small smile. "Am I?" A glance down to observe herself. "I seem to have changed colors..."
"An outward transformation at least, then," Sefton agrees, sinking down into his chair. "Come and sit, Roa, and tell me stories of my home. My brother kept you outdoors, that much I see." His drawl, so pronounced amongst those at High Reaches, is moderate in comparison to Kelar's.
Roa laughs softly and moves to a seat opposite Sefton's. "He did, sir. I climbed the taller trees to pick fruits that otherwise couldn't be easily harvested." There is a small pause in which Roa silently studies the Headmaster before she continues. "The atmosphere was far more relaxed at the cothold than" nearly "anywhere else I've ever been. Work and friendship seemed to merge together to create a cohesive unit of people that was, in my experience, singularly unique."
"He used to have to do that job himself," Sefton murmurs, lips curving to a faint smile. Less open than Kelar's. "Did he tell you?" Long legs stretch out underneath the desk, and he regards her for several moments in silence. "I take it you enjoyed your time away, then."
Roa says, with equal equanimity, "Yes. He did. And that you wouldn't let him wriggle out of it until he'd grown too tall for the task." Hands clasp lightly in her lap. "I did, sir, enjoy the trip. Thank you very much for the assignment."
"He did fall out of the tree fairly frequently," Sefton muses, lost for a moment in that memory -- a faint twitch of a smile that's slightly more amused, there. "You are most welcome, Roa. Consider it a favour willingly bestowed." If it is a favour, does this mean repayment can be called upon, one day? For now: "Speak to me of your assignment, then. How did you insert yourself into the group?"
"The group was inherently welcoming, although there was an expectation that formality and the general manners of most of Pernese society was to be summarily ignored," Roa's tone is neutral, neither for or against such a decision. "Once I was introduced by Kelar it seemed as if the only way to not be inserted was to actively spurn their ovetures of kindness or stand heavily on expected traditions. So, perhaps the key was simply to be introduced by someone who was already accepted into and respected by the group as a whole."
"Good girl," Sefton approves, inclining his head. "Kelar was certainly a key. He was to be relied upon to be fascinated enough with his new guest to take some trouble over integrating her. How was it that he was accepted and respected, then? By dint of Blood, or something else?"
Roa smoothes her skirt as she chews on that one. "Both, I should say. There was certainly an evident respect for him and although no titles were used, it was clear from everyone's actions that Kelar was respected as an authority figure. But part of that respect seemed to come from the fact that he could, at this time of year, eschew tradition for the morale of his holders. He was in all behaviors one of them, and in all interactions, still subtly treated as above them." Her head cants to the side. "I'm sorry, sir, does that even make sense?"
Sefton considers her report, fingers going out to claim the empty glass on his desk -- he turns it over slowly, eyes on the vessel as it twists in his grip. "A boy who used to fall out of a tree on a regular basis has somehow transformed himself into a man of the people, one of them, yet superior to them. Not bad work on his part, I should say." The headmaster's remarks are idle, so too his tone.
"It is, at the very least, something to aspire to. I personally find his example to be...heartening I suppose." Smooth the skirt. Slight shifting in the chair.
"I suppose it must be," Sefton agrees. "A chance to live in two worlds at once must be attractive to a woman plucked from one and thrust into another." One hand comes up to rake his hair back from his eyes, gaze settled evenly on her face. "Do you imagine I ever did such a thing? Or is the task of connecting with our holders left to Kelar, and the younger of my brothers and cousins?"
The way she watches Sefton now, there's an intensity about it that wasn't there before and it started as soon as he mentioned the 'two worlds'. "From kitchen girl to goldrider was, certainly, a jarring transition," she says, her voice placid even as those blue eyes just keep watching him. Perhaps to consider that question. "If I had to imagine then I would say that yes. You have indeed done such a thing and done it well." She leans back, fingers clasping, "But unlike Kelar, you did not enjoy it."
"One can only imagine," Sefton agrees mildly. As, indeed, one only can, if one has never had to make such a transition. "Do you not think that the fact that Kelar enjoys his break enormously contributes to his success? I credit our holders with a certain level of intelligence. My brother wants to be where he is, and they know this."
"I think his sincerity is appreciated. In fact I would go so far as to say that it is part of why he is so highly respected. That his enjoyment of the harvest suggests his enjoyment and comfort around the residents in a casual setting which in turn makes those residents think more highly of him," Roa says with a nod.
"All very cyclical, I must say," Sefton approves. "Where do I fit in, then, if you are correct and say that I do not enjoy being forced out into orchards to plunder from trees?" A twitch of one brow, a hint of something that's almost whimsy, in the question.
"If we assume, for the moment, that my assessment was correct. And if we also assume that your suggestion of the residents' intelligence was also correct, then that would lead me to the conclusion that you would be seen, at least in such settings as a less, ah, preferable leader than your brothers or cousins. But the disadvantage of a presumed friendship with your lord holders is that when things go unpleasantly or incoveniently, one tends to see it as a personal insult rather than a political or economic decision. So it might be advantagous to have a man, well respected but seen as less a 'man among the people', to make and implement these more unpopular decisions. For a man held at a distance, such occurances are expected, whereas if Kelar, say, was the one to announce an increase in tithes, it would possibly be seen as a betrayal of the comraderie he has allowed and so lower his standing overall." A lot of words for the slight young woman, and so she quiets and perhaps pauses for breath.
"One day, Roa," -- just look at that grin, positively feline -- "you will be a very interesting woman to know," Sefton murmurs, lazily playing with the vowels in each word. He does not speak as to whether or not her observations are correct, but instead begins to unfold, and come politely to his feet. A dismissal. "I will expect a written report when you have had the time to complete it."
Roa nods and pushes herself up. "Yessir. I've taken some notes but, if I might have a sevenday to compile them into something more orderly?" She is, after all, more than two weeks behind on her work. "And thank you. For the compliment." If that's what it was. As she stands, the girl reaches into her satchel and pulls out a low, wide, glass bottle with a dark liquid inside. This is set lightly down on Sefton's desk. "In thanks for the trip," she murmurs, "and based on a recommendation made by your brother." So if it's awful, blame him.
Time: A day or so after Roa returned from Boll
Players: Roa and Sefton
Scene: Sefton gets Roa's impressions on her experience in Boll. In his way.
Caucus Office
As offices go, this one is fairly standard. Larger than most due to being shared, there are a pair of desks set facing each other in the center of the room. Each desk has a set of shelves running the length of the wall behind it and those shelves are filled with neatly organized scroll-tubes. The floor has been covered in a thick blue-and-black braided rug, and the wall not hidden behind shelves bears a tapestry that shows a Harper instructing a class of young students.
Brown. This is the color that dominates the little Telgari's skin, once so pale in the colder climates of Telgar and High Reaches. But Bollian sun seems to have made a Southerner of her, the only burn-red on the back of her neck. Having found the office empty, Roa has begun to walk along the walls, peering up at the labels on the scroll tubes without pulling any down. On her shoulder is her typical satchel, one hand resting on the straps. Her clothes are the typical Reachian fare. Everything looks mostly the same save for the far-darker skintone and, in general, a more relaxed look about her face and form.
The scrolls cover many subjects, according to their labels. Students past and present, old tests, curriculum lists, correspondence. The list goes on. The door opens silently, and Sefton pauses in the doorframe for a moment to observe his small student. Then he's speaking as he walks in, moving around to his desk. "Roa, you are returned to us. Quite transformed."
It is, perhaps, a testament to the relaxing powers of Boll that the girl does not jump out of her skin at the startle. Instead she looks over her shoulder, brows lifted in a sort of 'hmm?' expression, and then turns more fully to regard the Headmaster. "Good evening sir," she says with a small smile. "Am I?" A glance down to observe herself. "I seem to have changed colors..."
"An outward transformation at least, then," Sefton agrees, sinking down into his chair. "Come and sit, Roa, and tell me stories of my home. My brother kept you outdoors, that much I see." His drawl, so pronounced amongst those at High Reaches, is moderate in comparison to Kelar's.
Roa laughs softly and moves to a seat opposite Sefton's. "He did, sir. I climbed the taller trees to pick fruits that otherwise couldn't be easily harvested." There is a small pause in which Roa silently studies the Headmaster before she continues. "The atmosphere was far more relaxed at the cothold than" nearly "anywhere else I've ever been. Work and friendship seemed to merge together to create a cohesive unit of people that was, in my experience, singularly unique."
"He used to have to do that job himself," Sefton murmurs, lips curving to a faint smile. Less open than Kelar's. "Did he tell you?" Long legs stretch out underneath the desk, and he regards her for several moments in silence. "I take it you enjoyed your time away, then."
Roa says, with equal equanimity, "Yes. He did. And that you wouldn't let him wriggle out of it until he'd grown too tall for the task." Hands clasp lightly in her lap. "I did, sir, enjoy the trip. Thank you very much for the assignment."
"He did fall out of the tree fairly frequently," Sefton muses, lost for a moment in that memory -- a faint twitch of a smile that's slightly more amused, there. "You are most welcome, Roa. Consider it a favour willingly bestowed." If it is a favour, does this mean repayment can be called upon, one day? For now: "Speak to me of your assignment, then. How did you insert yourself into the group?"
"The group was inherently welcoming, although there was an expectation that formality and the general manners of most of Pernese society was to be summarily ignored," Roa's tone is neutral, neither for or against such a decision. "Once I was introduced by Kelar it seemed as if the only way to not be inserted was to actively spurn their ovetures of kindness or stand heavily on expected traditions. So, perhaps the key was simply to be introduced by someone who was already accepted into and respected by the group as a whole."
"Good girl," Sefton approves, inclining his head. "Kelar was certainly a key. He was to be relied upon to be fascinated enough with his new guest to take some trouble over integrating her. How was it that he was accepted and respected, then? By dint of Blood, or something else?"
Roa smoothes her skirt as she chews on that one. "Both, I should say. There was certainly an evident respect for him and although no titles were used, it was clear from everyone's actions that Kelar was respected as an authority figure. But part of that respect seemed to come from the fact that he could, at this time of year, eschew tradition for the morale of his holders. He was in all behaviors one of them, and in all interactions, still subtly treated as above them." Her head cants to the side. "I'm sorry, sir, does that even make sense?"
Sefton considers her report, fingers going out to claim the empty glass on his desk -- he turns it over slowly, eyes on the vessel as it twists in his grip. "A boy who used to fall out of a tree on a regular basis has somehow transformed himself into a man of the people, one of them, yet superior to them. Not bad work on his part, I should say." The headmaster's remarks are idle, so too his tone.
"It is, at the very least, something to aspire to. I personally find his example to be...heartening I suppose." Smooth the skirt. Slight shifting in the chair.
"I suppose it must be," Sefton agrees. "A chance to live in two worlds at once must be attractive to a woman plucked from one and thrust into another." One hand comes up to rake his hair back from his eyes, gaze settled evenly on her face. "Do you imagine I ever did such a thing? Or is the task of connecting with our holders left to Kelar, and the younger of my brothers and cousins?"
The way she watches Sefton now, there's an intensity about it that wasn't there before and it started as soon as he mentioned the 'two worlds'. "From kitchen girl to goldrider was, certainly, a jarring transition," she says, her voice placid even as those blue eyes just keep watching him. Perhaps to consider that question. "If I had to imagine then I would say that yes. You have indeed done such a thing and done it well." She leans back, fingers clasping, "But unlike Kelar, you did not enjoy it."
"One can only imagine," Sefton agrees mildly. As, indeed, one only can, if one has never had to make such a transition. "Do you not think that the fact that Kelar enjoys his break enormously contributes to his success? I credit our holders with a certain level of intelligence. My brother wants to be where he is, and they know this."
"I think his sincerity is appreciated. In fact I would go so far as to say that it is part of why he is so highly respected. That his enjoyment of the harvest suggests his enjoyment and comfort around the residents in a casual setting which in turn makes those residents think more highly of him," Roa says with a nod.
"All very cyclical, I must say," Sefton approves. "Where do I fit in, then, if you are correct and say that I do not enjoy being forced out into orchards to plunder from trees?" A twitch of one brow, a hint of something that's almost whimsy, in the question.
"If we assume, for the moment, that my assessment was correct. And if we also assume that your suggestion of the residents' intelligence was also correct, then that would lead me to the conclusion that you would be seen, at least in such settings as a less, ah, preferable leader than your brothers or cousins. But the disadvantage of a presumed friendship with your lord holders is that when things go unpleasantly or incoveniently, one tends to see it as a personal insult rather than a political or economic decision. So it might be advantagous to have a man, well respected but seen as less a 'man among the people', to make and implement these more unpopular decisions. For a man held at a distance, such occurances are expected, whereas if Kelar, say, was the one to announce an increase in tithes, it would possibly be seen as a betrayal of the comraderie he has allowed and so lower his standing overall." A lot of words for the slight young woman, and so she quiets and perhaps pauses for breath.
"One day, Roa," -- just look at that grin, positively feline -- "you will be a very interesting woman to know," Sefton murmurs, lazily playing with the vowels in each word. He does not speak as to whether or not her observations are correct, but instead begins to unfold, and come politely to his feet. A dismissal. "I will expect a written report when you have had the time to complete it."
Roa nods and pushes herself up. "Yessir. I've taken some notes but, if I might have a sevenday to compile them into something more orderly?" She is, after all, more than two weeks behind on her work. "And thank you. For the compliment." If that's what it was. As she stands, the girl reaches into her satchel and pulls out a low, wide, glass bottle with a dark liquid inside. This is set lightly down on Sefton's desk. "In thanks for the trip," she murmurs, "and based on a recommendation made by your brother." So if it's awful, blame him.