[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/fP0YVtw.png[/img] [hr][hr] [color=f14a83]Location:[/color] Bedroom to the Primary Artificer Laboratory [color=f14a83]Grimoire:[/color] [color=f14a83]Skills:[/color] N/A [hr][/center] Finley did not heal faster than any other fae, not by themselves. However, Dysphoria could heal them rapidly if needed. Finley did not need, nor want it. The marks of pleasure from the night before stayed. They woke languidly. Finley was not a morning person. They hated the dawn. It destroyed small magics and, in a way, hurt. Not in a meaningful way, but enough to make Finley the type to sleep through it and usually long after the dawn if they could help it. The fact that they had also been up later than advisable when one supposedly had school the next day also factored in. All of that meant that Finley almost always had to be woken up if it was any earlier than dusk. Through intention or not, the twins woke Finley up. They rose and went through the usual motions of morning rituals. Clothes, food (mostly bread), other ablutions, and such things. They wore their masculine face, unchanged from the distractions of the night prior, after everyone had left Haven. Unsure of what to wear beyond ‘not loose’, they went for jeans and a simple shirt. These were not conjured from leaves and things as they had found clothes of illusion were not ideal for the learning environment. If something happened to disrupt the magic, they would be naked, while Fin was unbothered by that. Connie had sat them down one day to give them some etiquette. Part of that had been a warning that being naked in public areas was considered impolite. Finley also did not particularly care if they were impolite, but Connie had a way of making it clear that these types of rules were the social type that should not be messed with too much. Finley did not have tools to gather. They brought their usual items they carried, but did not have measuring devices or things of creation, not beyond the detritus of nature that they used to craft illusions. Finley was not an artificer and had been quite confused on realizing they were placed with the artificers of the school. It was strange, but they would either figure out something they could do, or fail. Finley was not like some students who cared more about getting a grade. Finley attended the school for one primary reason. Exposure to the types of people who attended such schools. [center]~~~[/center] Finley donned the attire Professor Sariel offered. They listened as she explained what they would be doing, the rules around it, and the dangers. Those last ones were something Finley found interesting (and a little terrifying). Fin was a fae creature. They were made more of magic than most. If this place, this ill-defined material, was a danger to magic, Finley was uninterested in messing with it. They had little desire to unravel their very being. Odd that people were willing to do such things to themselves. Finley was immortal, ageless; they could die if killed. They did not want to die. They had only just started seeing the world and experiencing it. Why would they want to work with something that could destroy them in such a way? They eyed the items and the gate with suspicion. Was this an elaborate way to test if fae could be destroyed by such things? Finley kept their hands in their pockets and stayed away from any of the items. Keeping as clear a berth as possible. [color=f14a83]”I still do not understand why I am one of your students. I have little understanding of such types of magic. I am an illusionist and blood worker. Does this material you speak of have blood? If so, from what you have said, I have little desire to use it directly.”[/color] Finley had been through the Neverish. That was not a new experience. This gate was different than the doors they had previously used. [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5dNnrjA.png[/img] [hr][hr] [color=D8BFD8]Location:[/color] Bedroom to Library to Room 12 [color=D8BFD8]Grimoire:[/color] [color=D8BFD8]Skills:[/color] Magical History (+1) [hr][/center] Connie woke early. She noticed that the man with the many familiars was missing. Pedro, if she remembered his name correctly. Maybe he had gotten back after her and gotten up before her? She thought about that as she got ready for the day and caught some time to study. He had not been at Haven the night prior. He was one of her coven mates, so hopefully he would arrive on time. Croan would have little sympathy for a tardy student. Connie’s morning was not wasted. She did several things before eating, including going by the library and asking for any information already in the stacks about room 12 or the Statue of Adrolyn. There was no way that Connie didn’t believe in curses. She lived in a magical school. Her father was a wizard, and she had been trained to be one as well since she was twelve. However, she struggled with the short text about the statue. [center]~~~[/center] Upon meeting with the others, she nodded at Barty and smiled at Jake. She wondered what had happened to him the night prior, after he had started spewing bubbles, and did not remember seeing him leave Haven. He had obviously eventually made it back to his room. She didn’t say anything other than the short hello greeting because she did not want to deal with Croan’s attitude yet. Connie had been tempted by the worst idea to touch the statue without a glove. In reality, she had no desire to touch it with the glove. However, the part of her that wanted to do the insane wondered if she could shift this from stone into flesh. She had never succeeded in giving such things true life, so it would be a corpse, but maybe it would be free of the pain. She did not do this. Instead, she opened to a fresh page in the notebook she had started that morning. She made a small notation at the top of the page, including time, date, and moon phase. The previous pages included everything she had already known about the object and room. That had been precious little. The library had been frustratingly unhelpful. There hadn’t been a single text of someone else’s descent into madness studying the object. Just the myth surrounding the statue. She sketched the statue from each side with just enough detail that it was clear the angle and dimensions. Then she started annotating the sketch, starting with copying the symbols. She timed the pulses. Connie’s notes were not clean. They never were the first time. Barty had seen her take notes enough to know she always had two notebooks. One was the first copy that was messy; the second copy was clean and organized with additional annotations. She was clearly working on her first copy. It was in pencil, and even still, she didn’t always erase errors, but instead lightly crossed those out and started over. If she would have all semester to study this statue, she would take her time. She also would make sure that if it made her crazy at least the next student to ask the library for any information about it would not go in with a dearth of previous texts. Connie made a note of a theory on the back of one page. Said theory did not help with her desire to try to turn stone into flesh. She couldn’t do it through the gloves. She refused to touch the statue without them. Since those two things conflicted, she would not attempt to do it. Her theory was simple. Ardyon had been cursed when he touched the object. Supposedly, this cube-shaped thing, the person in the statue was curled around. The object had turned him from flesh into stone. Something she knew, from watching her mother’s face, was painful. Had it been the previous night’s conversation about escaping family that made the past so near in her mind? Or was it thinking about the process of transfiguration? Connie stared at the man’s face. She was a healer. Her heart went out to him. Yes, if this story was true he was a thief, but that did not mean he deserved such a fate. She wanted to heal him. Wanted to release him. Was he still aware? Or had time stopped when his heart became stone?