Nocturne on Nyssa

[Mireasă]

The castle on Nyssa was not much more welcoming by the light of day. Still, it had it's charm she supposed. While the halls were lined with carpets, they did cover bare, sometimes uneven, stone. They appeared to have once been a plush crimson, but time and sunlight had left them worn thin and faded to a pink stain.

Mireasă took care to mind her footing as the quixotic satin pumps wobbled over loose spots beneath her feet. She caught a glance of her own reflection in one of the many large pane windows they passed. The delicate white silk of the collar showing beneath her petal-pink coat was edged with fanciful pastel flowers. Her blonde locks spilled out from beneath her likewise pink hat, just touching upon her shoulders.

She was led forward by the woman she assumed was part housekeeper, part liaison for The Order. Known to Mireasă only as Cadenza. Tall and strong, with a dark complexion and exotically tilted eyes that gave very little away. She was apparently good at maintaining discretion, as well as running the castle's day to day details. Behind her, footmen that she suspected were boys enrolled in the school, carried the two trunks she had packed for herself.

"These rooms have been prepared for your stay with the school..", Cadenza was saying as she unlocked a door ad pushed it wide, allowing Mireasă to pass by into the room first.

She looked around at where she, they would be staying during their visit. A stair spiraled upward along the far, curved wall, disappearing to the floor above. There was a large, adequately made up bed with a black and red duvet. A table and chairs set beneath the window, with a view of the courtyard below. A deep set hearth that was already aglow with a cozy fire. A wardrobe for her belongings..

"Yes, this will do nicely. What is upstairs?"

"A workroom for your studies. I was instructed to leave all of the students required reading, as well as some more advanced lessons for you to review, Lady Mireasă.."

"Just...Mireasă. Or Maestro Mireasă if the students are present.", she corrected with a pleasant smile. The woman nodded.

The boys set the trunks at the foot of the bed, at Mireasă's instruction before quietly leaving them alone.

"Dinner is served in the hall at dusk." Cadenza informed her.

"I'll take my trays here. I have much to catch up on." Mireasă's bright eyes lifted upward meaningfully, and Cadenza did not argue the point. She nodded and then she too departed, leaving the room's new occupant to get settled in.

The first thing she did was fall upon her back on the bed and give a sigh. Kicking the uncomfortable shoes off her feet, she rose up once more and decided to investigate the workroom. She followed the steps as they curled along the side of the tower. The room was lined with bookshelves, tables with the trappings of a mad scientists laboratory. Padding on stocking feet around the room, Mireasă drew her fingertips across labels. Turned bottles to read them. Opened books that seemed particularly interesting..

"Libretto Moarte..", she mused, touching a finger to the leather spine. Smiling, she took the book to a table and sat down to read.

It seemed like no more than an hour had passed when she heard Cadenza return, promised tray in hand. The housekeeper informed her that in fact several hours had passed. Mireasă joked about time getting away from her with all the fun she was having. Cadenza did not smile. She simply set the tray down and left.

The following morning, the tray and the bed were untouched. Mireasă remained upstairs, carefully mixing reagents one careful measurement at a time, into a bubbling cauldron before her. Her pink coat and hat had been discarded nearby, tendrils of long pale hair escaped her coiffure, and teased against her perspiring neck while she insisted she be allowed to finish what she was working on.. and so it repeated for several days.

On the third day of barely touched food, and little drink, Cadenza found her voice to speak up, stating plainly that she was growing yet more pale, wan even, and that if Maestro Mireasă could not find the time to eat, that she would have to inform him.

At that, Mireasă looked up from the smoking cauldron, one golden brow arched in question.

"Maestro Sokolov.", Cadenza clarified.

Mireasă set down the beaker she had been holding with a pair of tongs and sighed.

"I'm.. just not used to this cuisine. I'm sure something will tempt me.", she promised, knowing it was a lie.

She knew that she should eat, how important it was. It was just that all of her favorite things seemed to turn her appetite lately. She wanted to eat..she just could not say what.

"I'll do better tonight.", she assured the woman, and went back to her work.

[Vadim Sokolov]

The creak of footsteps on the spiral staircase announced Sokolov’s arrival. The curtains were not drawn but the darkness on Nyssa was deep enough that the fire in the hearth wasn’t enough to cast away every shadow. Pausing at the top of the staircase, just within the firelights reach, Sokolov’s took in the state of the workroom: the forgotten tray of food, the equipment stacked and strewn about every available surface. The air was thick with the smell of burning wood and… something he couldn’t place. There, at the centre of it all, was Mireasă, her back to him as she worked at something he could not see.

“You cannot sustain yourself on knowledge alone, Maestro.”

[Mireasă]

She had learned several things in her days at the school. Firstly, that while Cadenza was loyal, that loyalty was not to her. The woman had quite obviously done as she had inferred that she would, and tattled. Mireasă's lips pursed into a twitch, more amusement than irritation.

It was not the creaking steps that had told her he was coming. She already knew. She could feel it. A trifle horrified at the state of herself, Mireasă had found out that while the castle might not have all of the luxuries she was accustomed to, the student dormitories were equipped with sonic showers at least. She had washed and changed hours ago, exchanging the white and pink outfit for a more efficient white blouse and long, flowing lavender skirt that swished about her legs with each movement.

"Are you certain?", she asked without turning. "You might be surprised what knowledge is hidden here. I was." Obviously.

Brushing her hands together as though she had reached a stopping point, Mireasă straightened the finger-less lace gloves on her hands primly, before swiveling the stool seat around to face him.

The smile she wore was rueful. She knew she was not being wise, and that it was not only her that would pay for it.

[Vadim Sokolov]

“Oh?”

Sokolov moved further into the light. He wore his travelling clothes, a red coat cut in the Tapani style; he had come to Mireasă's rooms directly on returning from Obulette (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57979-To-Embrace-a-Serpent). A skeletal mask covered the upper-half of his face, as it did whenever he moved about the castle, but the flicker of the fire shone in his white eyes.

“Surprise me.”

[Mireasă]

The rueful smile was exchanged for one of excitement. "It is certainly not for eating."

When she had heard the door open below, she had thought for a moment it was Cadenza returning with another round of food that she had no intention of consuming, even if it was in accordance with what she had requested..

Sliding off the stool, Mireasă patted the seat she had just vacated. "Come have a closer look. No touching!", she advised with a cheeky grin.

Stepping around to the opposite side of the table, Mireasă turned off the heat to the burner, and swung the cauldron to the side away from the remaining heat. At once, the bubbling mixture began to slow to a filmy simmer. She slid the open book toward him, and explained what the various steps would culminate in.

"It will be one of their first lessons. When this cools, I will scrape the top layer off and save it..like a salve. Applied to weapons it will make an impressive paralytic. This batch is for someone else. Someone smaller.."

[Vadim Sokolov]

Sokolov took the offered seat and drew the book towards him with gloved fingertips. Like so much of the Tapani culture, the paper pages of the book were an anachronism. In a time when they could commit the entirety of their knowledge to limitless databases, they had chosen instead to rely upon parchment and ink.

“I see,” Sokolov said, as he scanned over the steps laid out before him. Mireasă could not see the arched eyebrow, concealed by his mask, but the curiosity was plain to hear in his voice.

“Someone… smaller?” His eyes lifted, meeting hers over the table.