Location: Professor Varn Croan’s Office
Grimoire: Skills:
Their offer of a bite of their bread was ignored, all well, her loss. Finley did not seem to notice Croan’s displeasure at them eating in his office and continued to take occasional bites. Finley could feel Dysphoria’s distress and tried to send soothing feelings back through their bond. Soon. They could be alone soon. They snuggled their cheek slightly against Dysphoria. Almost as a cover for Dysphoria, Finley tried to seem as non-chalant as possible.
“Hmm, I can guess as to why Rohan’s was resistant to my working. However, Annika, I do not know enough about you to guess. I would love to discuss with you what the reasons may be.” Finley smiled, over their loaf of bread at Annika. No threat in their face, though the amusement in their eyes could have meant anything.
“Are you cursed as well?” Finley had not taste tested Annika’s blood. They had not dared any after Rohan’s. However, that did mean they did not know Annika’s blood composition. Hmm, what a waste of an opportunity. Another time hopefully. Though if Rohan continued to speak ill of Finley to Annika and the way she almost recoiled from them already, it was unlikely an opportunity would arise again.
Finley liked to think they were very reasonable. Compared to many of their kind Finley
was reasonable. They had no desire to control land or people. They wished to enjoy their Dysphoria, Dewdrop, and whatever strange delights should cross their path and live in relative peace, in that order. Finley was
simple. But others had opinions. They held in the sigh, exchanging it for a bite of bread.
Location: Prof. Ravoux’s Office
Grimoire: Skills:
Considering the question ‘What do you know about this statue?’ Connie knew it was painfully little. She could recite the history that she had on the statue. She could explain its appearance. The supposed history of it. She even knew a little about the man. But the box was a mystery. Connie didn’t like not knowing. For something as old and well tracked as this statue was there was surprisingly little information about it. What bothered her was that it ‘ate’ magic.
Connie was pleased with her work on the rabbit, the one foot she had left still intact, but otherwise it was cleaned efficiently. She nodded at the compliments,
“I understand that distasteful things must be done. I will be scrubbing up as soon as I am done.” A shudder passed through her. She was at her limit.
To be told that Ravoux believed that if anyone could solve it it would be her was reassuring. It was ego boosting. Connie did not consider herself one to have a large ego. She knew what she was capable of. She knew where her skills and talents lay. She was good. Not perfect. She had room to improve. She had a lot to learn. That was why she had stayed. She could have gone out into the world, but she chose not to. This was the challenge she had to face now. She would have to sit with the notes she made and dissect those. That was how Connie always did her notes anyway, that wasn’t new. She’d transfer her mess of ideas over to the other cleaner notebook. That would be organized, clean, and a resource.
“I only have what I saw with my own two eyes. A statue of a man in distress gripping a box-like object as if it were his only hope. The statue is covered in lines and glyphs. I copied the regularly occurring ones into my notebook.” She held up her bloodied hands,
“However, I am not going to grab that right now.
“I know that I have turned a statue that was never a cat into a cat. It could not be a living breathing thing. It had no life force to it. If I were to touch this statue and use magic on it, it would eat my magic. That magic lingers. And people have become insane after spending too much time with it.” Except Croan. Who had used student after student for his own means and had yet to solve it. He had stood the test of time... or had he?
“If I transmute this statue, I do not know if the box will continue to consume it until I am drained. I do not know if it would be safe to try. But that is where my skill lies in such things. I will sleep on it. Discuss with Barty and Jake.” And Rohan, he may have ideas too.
Zéphyrine nodded, intrigued. Glyphs and lines - that was as good a lead as any. She could appreciate spell work like that, one where intent had to be physically demonstrated, where words of powers had to be carved and sigils carefully crafted. The old ways were a dying art, replaced with fanciful blasts and catchphrases. “Start t’ere, t’en. Decode t’ose lines and figure out w’at kind of workin’ you’re dealin’ wit. T’e library s’ould ‘ave t’e knowledge you need to translate it. Tell w’at sc’ool of magic it is, give you a better idea on ‘ow to undo it - if t’ats w’at you c’oose to do. You know as well as I do t’at a workin’ of divine takes a different strategy to untangle t’an one of c’aos for instance.”
“Can you look at them and tell what school of magic it is, or is that part of my task?” She had done as diligent a job as she did anything else at writing them down. She had not written down what she had seen from above, but the view there was no different than from the angles. If the specific location of the glyphs mattered she could worry about that
after translating them. She would be happy with a task such as that. Though it was likely someone else had already spent the time. If she could launch from their work it would save time. However, having the knowledge of doing it herself and
knowing it had been done correctly was something she’d much rather have than a shortcut.
Prof. Ravoux smiled at Connie, as she shook her head. “I ain’t doin’ your ‘omework for you, chère,” she laughed softly. “But it’s sweet of you to ask. Surely between you and your coven mates, you can identify a sc’ool of magic or two, n’est-ce pas?”
“I expected as much. Barty will be of assistance. Jake, hmm, I may be bringing him to visit you soon. And the fourth member was not in our room this morning, nor did he arrive for our meeting.” Her missing coven mate/roommate was a mystery of his own.
Zéphyrine’s smile faltered for a moment. “You t’ink ‘e went into town per’aps, ‘ad ‘is way wit’ t’e bottle?” Campus was closed this early in the year, with students expected to remain on grounds. But it wouldn’t have been unheard of for a student to slip away, meet with a lover, and come back later than they’d intended. But still, the ominous chill in the air came back to her, as Zéphyrine quickly finished off the rabbits feet, muttering under her breath as she wrapped them in twine. “‘Ere. For you and a friend. I ‘ad a girl in ‘ere just before you, complainin’ about visions. Mik’ail’s boy was wit’ ‘er. You stay safe, okay mon amie? You need anyt’ing - you come ‘ollerin, understood?”
Connie considered the question.
“Last I saw him was when we brought our things into our rooms. I figured he stayed in the room rather than hangout with everyone. And he wasn’t there when I returned. It is possible that he chose to leave campus instead, and got caught up in something. I will. Thank you.” The last part was said as she collected the rabbit feet. Connie may not be the type to sense such things as bad air or strange things afoot, but she had long since learned to trust those that said they could. Especially coming from Professor Revoux.
She
needed to clean up. Having fully hit her limit of
fluids on her. She wiped off her arms as best as she could with the towel she had been using. Nausea was starting to roil in her stomach and she shook a little. She went over to the basin of blissfully clean water and scrubbed at her hands and arms. It took a full minute before she felt clean. And even then she knew she’d be washing her hands in running water as soon as possible. But at least this way she didn’t feel like clawing off her skin.
With that taken care of Connie gave her goodbyes and headed back into the main building of the school. She swung by the bathrooms and cleaned her arms again, this time with running water and lots of soap. She felt even better. Connie needed to get something to eat.
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