open

[inkindled]

WHO: Matthias, Nikos, Salvio (tbd if Doki, Val, and Darras will get open stuff. how did I get all of these characters) + YOU
WHAT: just open stuff, man
WHEN: NOW
WHERE: various
NOTES: tiny bit of self-harm but it's so small and it gets fixed so fast

Comments

OPEN -- forces office

[inkindled]

[Matthias' desk is typically tidier than might be expected of him. Papers are piled neatly, ink stains are wiped away, and his files are suspiciously in order. This comes at great personal effort. He is not, by nature, a tidy person. Anyone who shares the dormitory with him could tell you as much. He has taken the opportunity of such things like free and available personal space and personal possessions to cultivate an equally personal untidiness, but once he crosses the threshold of the Forces office, he shrugs on a cloak of Professionalism and cleans up after himself with meticulous attention.

This afternoon, however, his desk is strewn with crumpled pieces of paper, and more crumpled parchment litters the floor around him. It is approaching after hours, and no one is around, so Matthias is muttering to himself as he works. He can be observed to pause occasionally, hold up the piece of paper he has been scribbling on, scan the lines with his lips moving occasionally, repeating back phrases to himself--and then, he frowning. Sometimes he swears. And every time he crumples that paper up, tosses it away, grabs a fresh page, and begins to write again.]

'Con... trol. I want to learn how to have better control because I think that it will'-- fuck, no, 'because I know that it... will... help me...'

[He doesn't narrate the whole thing aloud. Just pieces. Anyone with business in the Forces office will have to side-step the balls of paper. Crunch one underfoot and Matthias looks up, startled and wild-eyed, and immediately moves to shift aside the page that he's working on, and stumble to his feet to start gathering up the crumpled ones.]

gives nell the other one bc that's funnier

[sulahnan]

[ Athessa doesn't usually have business in the Forces office, but lately she's been playing courier (ever since she mistakenly did REAL WORK while pretending to be the Lord Ambassador for a joke), so she's here with just a boring stack of missives to pass off to whoever is there with hands to take them.

But she doesn't expect to stumble over crumpled up bits of paper, stepping on one with a crunch and toeing a few others out of her way. Looks like a graveyard of letters, here. ]

Uh...Matty? What's with all the—? [ A broad gesture. All of this. ]

[inkindled]

What? Oh--shit--

[Athessa. Guiltily, Matthias shoves his chair back from his desk, drops to his knees, and begins to scoop the discarded crumpled pages closer to him.]

Just some-- some writing. Sorry. Don't look.

[sulahnan]

I won't— [ She'll just...corral the detritus into a pile. ]

What seems to be the problem?

[inkindled]

There's no problem!

[Scrabbling blindly, he grabs her foot once, lets go with an uh, and keeps sweeping the paper into his arms.]

It's just work. A project. I'm, erm, writing... a thing. Like a paper, sort of. But not that scholarly. Er, I mean, it's not a paper, proper, it's a list, a bit. To begin with.

[sulahnan]

Right, so all these— [ She keeps nudging the wads of paper around. ] —are what? Paper replicas of cannon-balls?

[inkindled]

They're bad lists. The ones that didn't sound right. It's all ink, and I can't bloody scratch it out, 'cause it's got to be perfect--and sound perfect--

[Surrounded by a ring of crumple papers, Matthias looks up at Athessa with pain. He has trimmed back the burnt fringe, which lopped his fringe too short, and so he'd tried cutting the rest as well. The result is uneven.]

You know. I want it to be really, really, really good. And look good as well.

[bouchonne]

Oh, don't clean on my account.

[ Byerly waves his hand, all unconcern, as Matthias gathers up those papers. ]

Frankly, I think the Commander would be a bit more tolerable with his floor a proper mess. Because I presume that it'd bring on an apoplexy that'd kill him.

[inkindled]

[Oh. He starts to slow down, but then shakes his head with a little scowl--no, stupid--and starts up again, renewed in his speed.]

You might want that. I don't.

[So. When he has most of the crumpled paper within arm's reach, Matthias starts shoveling it under his desk. Without looking up--]

Is it the Commander you're looking for? I can take a message, if you like.

[bouchonne]

I'd appreciate that. Only - how many tries do you suppose it'd take?

[inkindled]

[Matthias flushes, and, scowling, shoves the last of the crumpled paper under his desk. He gets to his feet.]

I'm fine at writing, thanks. One try. This is--something else.

[Wait.]

But the Commander knows about it. So. [That is a lie. Hopefully the pink in his cheeks disguises it. He pushes his chair out and grabs for his pen, dipping it with unnecessary force into his inkwell.] Whenever you like.

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ Byerly sits in the chair opposite Matthias, crossing his long legs, something rather ominous in his gaze. ]

You're blushing.

[inkindled]

[Hot under the scrutiny, Matthias' scowl blackens. He resists the urge to scrub his wrist over his face.]

Is that your message for Commander Flint?

[muckspout]

[Edgard hadn't quite made it to the Forces office yet. There has been a lot going on and a lot to explore and--yes, the idea of offices and the implied superiors that come with it makes him twitchy. He opens the door and is delighted to see a young man creating an absolute mess.]

Excellent, are we trashing the place?

[inkindled]

Wh-- Oh. No. Erm--

[Hastily, Matthias tries to shove as much of the crumpled papers under his desk as he can.]

I'm just working on--something. Sorry. Erm, you're-- [tall, in reality not that much taller than Matthias, but giving off a very tall impression.] --Sorry.

[He scrambles to his feet and plops back into his desk chair. Please kindly ignore the pile of paper around his feet.]

Can I help you?

[muckspout]

[Edgard watches him scramble as he walks forward to the desk. He's up to something for sure. The man goes all business and Edgard's eyes narrow as he leans on the desk.]

Oh. Are you--in charge? [He swallows a laugh, but the ghost of it remains on his lips.] I'm Edgard, new recruit for Forces. Been here a week or so. Thought I should stop by?

[inkindled]

[With all his teenage sensitivity, Matthias is tuned to pick up on adults not taking him seriously. He frowns.]

Matthias. Forces assistant. Obviously not in charge, [THANKS FOR NOTICING] that'd be Commander Flint. But he's out at the moment. You can come back later if you'd like to meet him properly. Or I can take a message, like.

[Surrounded by a drift of crumpled and scribbled-upon papers, he can obviously write enough to take a message.]

[muckspout]

[Edgard is not a message person.]

No, no! I will--meet him eventually, I'm sure. [Edgard claps Mattias' shoulder roughly. It's intended to be friendly.] Pleasure to meet you, Mattias. I'm Edgard. If you were trashing the place or anything else, I wouldn't tell this Flint.

[He probably wouldn't tell him much of anything, but that's beside the point.]

[inkindled]

[Matthias sees the shoulder clap coming just in time to brace himself for it and save himself from an awkward fall forward. Not that he'd have fallen, but it still would have been awkward.]

Yeah. Erm, same to you, Edgard. [Hopefully.] I really wasn't trashing it, though. I'm working on something and I didn't think anyone would be coming round. I'd've tided it all before I left.

When did you get here?

elbows my way in here

[hornswoggle]

What's all this?

[ comes John's voice from the doorway. He doesn't bother to sidestep anything, but he doesn't bother coming any further into the Forces office when it's immediately obvious to him that it's occupant is not in.

There is a small, folded sheet of paper in his hand. John tucks it into the pocket of his coat, resolved to hand it off in person. ]

Don't tell me he has you transcribing lines.

[ It's a little teasing. How long ago was it that he and Flint had sat together and worked over the accounts of the Walrus? A fair amount of ink blots had been accepted in that process, as they sped their way through it. ]

good

[inkindled]

[Startled, Matthias cuts off his mumbling, looks up, and curls his arm around the page he's working on, all at the same time. Instinctively he is trying to hide it from view--never mind that he's surrounded by its discarded brothers, some of them early drafts where he was doing poorly with regulating the size of his letters.

When he realizes it's Silver, he doesn't quite relax. But he does turn down the intensity of his wariness, his shoulders losing some of their hike. His arm stays where it is.]

Commander Flint doesn't give me lines. [Well.] Not precisely. This is-- [Erm. He looks down, then decisively sticks his quill in its rest and takes up the page, folds it once over itself with a decisive crease.] --nothing. Something of mine.

D'you, er, need him for something? The Commander?

[hornswoggle]

Nothing that can't wait.

[ Nothing that he would leave with Matthias, though he doesn't offer that explanation. ]

And I doubt any of this is nothing.

[ It's hard to be wary of Matthias. John should be, considering what Matthias knows about him, but there's a disarming quality in the quickness of his reactions, how they play out over his face. It seems so unlikely that he's capable of leveraging that secret for harm. ]

Are they love letters?

[ Teasing, as he steps out of the doorway and into the office, apparently invested in carrying on this conversation. ]

[inkindled]

[Matthias scoffs, as he crouches to start collecting armloads of discarded parchment and get it out of Silver's way.]

I dunno if love letters are our style.

[But, saying that--maybe Laura would like love letters? Hard to say. Not the sort of thing that you can just ask either, right. He looks down at the crumpled pages, and then at Silver, carefully sizing him up.]

It's sort of a personal project. And--not a secret, precisely, but-- [No, he's too excited to keep it to himself, he decides, as he dumps the parchment under his desk, corralling it between the four legs.] Shut the door, would you?

[hornswoggle]

[ It's a little amusing, hearing that request from someone other than the office's primary owner. But John does draw the door shut before moving directly over to Matthias' desk.

What kind of not-secrets would Matthias have? He's so young, and it seems every emotion he has shows on his face, flows forward freely. It's never occurred to John to think there's any particular guile in him, personal project or no. ]

Is this something that's going to get you into trouble?

[ Still humor in his tone, though the closed door has John considering whether or not this is a matter of some weight. ]

[inkindled]

No! Just-- I mean, it's all right. I'm only being careful with it all for now, 'cause, I dunno, it's not...

[He twitches the corner of the page down, creases it decisively with his thumbnail before he folds it back again. The door is closed now, so--]

I'm going to be having lessons, with Enchanter Leander. With magic and all. I asked him and he said he'd help me, formally, and all. 'Cause I wasn't at the Circle very long, and--I know things, obviously, but I learnt them sort of as I went, y'know? And I want to learn them a bit better. So it's nothing that's going to get me in any trouble but I haven't quite... I mean, I think people might be a bit... I don't want them to think anything of me.

[The abomination is right there as he says it, so in his mind still that it's like it's stood in the corner. Matthias looks Silver dead on. He will, he thinks, understand.]