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

Salvio Pizzicagnolo

[assistente]

[other closed stuff might go here too, hmu for something or wildcard]

OPEN -- base operations office

[assistente]

[The Base Operations office is awash in paperwork.

This isn't remarkable. The filing system is a continual work in process, regularly revamped and typically dissatisfying. Between Salvio and Poppell, there is always a better way that things could be done, some new system that will save time and fix all of the issues, and so files are perpetually out of the cabinets, stacked in slumping towers on every available surface, and generally giving the whole place the impression of a very small and very ramshackle city.

Salvio is up to his elbows in a drawer, taking out a sheaf of papers, skimming its cover page, then setting it aside into a particular stack. The area around him is quickly becoming a ramshackle suburb of that ramshackle city. Occasionally he stops and flips a few pages in to the sheaf that has gotten his attention, reading quickly.

To anyone who enters, he will offer a distracted greeting, and go right back to what he is doing. He is on a mission.]

[heirring]

[As has become typical, Wysteria arrives out of breath and slightly red faced. She has not run here from the ferry slip - it would be powerfully undignified to be seen so -, but she has walked very quickly the whole length of it and that in combination with a strong aversion to tardiness is more than enough to having her trying to subtly suck down air instead of gulping it as she staggers into the office.]

Good afternoon, Seneschal. I trust your morning was pleasant, [she gasps, untying her hat's ribbon and stripping it from her head.] You'll be pleased to hear that I saw the latest shipment of flour being assembled on the docks for passage out to the island and took the liberty of inspecting it myself. Happily, I found not a single shaving of sawdust. So either it was cut very fine or our days of being able to take notes on a slice of bread may finally be behind us.

[As far as Miss Poppell monologues go, it is a brief one—occurring in fits and starts. She wings the hat onto her overflowing desk.]

If you're looking for the records on Miscellaneous Inquiries, Orlesian, recall that we moved years forty-four through forty-five from that cabinet last month.

[assistente]

Oh? Good.

[--An automatic response, first. Not that Poppell will have heard him at all. Even a genuine response given to her has a way of apparently becoming background noise to her, as if the rest of the world is counterpointing the main melody of her speeches.]

Funny.

[That's for the bit about the bread, which he thinks was a joke. The drawer he is working through is half-empty. Salvio shifts forward the back section of the files so that they are easier to reach.]

And thank you. Yes. It is received correspondence that I am looking for, actually, recently--well, not recently, perhaps--there was a bin beneath the window that we were, um, well, it was to be sorted... I think that we managed it?

[heirring]

[She contemplates the space below the window where the alleged bin once sat and is now being occupied by a crate containing sixty copies of the poorly researched and extraordinarily badly illustrated By Way of the Minanter: A Traveller's Guide to the Flora and Fauna Observed Along Its Banks by Kazan Pantazis (who evidently had been in possession of enough disposable income to both self publish and donate large swaths of his travel diary).

'They will make excellent kindling in a few months,' she had suggested upon the crate's receipt and review.

Eventually, with great effort, she recalls—]

Oh. Yes. I believe the bulk of its contents was sorted into... [what was the section's name? No matter] One over and two up.

[assistente]

Ah. Yes--

['We can't be seen to burn books, Poppell,' Salvio had said at her vicious suggestion, holding six copies of the Pantazis in his arms. But he had said it in the melancholic and slightly tired way that he says things that he would agree with, if it were not for his position and all of the trust and responsibility contained therein.

That was a very different day. Well. Not so different. Base Operations has a pleasant predictability to it: you know that you will always be busy.

Salvio now pushes the files he had scraped forward into the back of the drawer once more, and begins to refill the front with the files and folios that he had removed.]

Has there been any word on the lumber requisition? Ah, but--perhaps I am too early to ask. The um, letters-- they were sent out just... earlier this week, yes?

[heirring]

It is perhaps slightly early. However there was word already from stonemason with respect to the repair of the kitchen's exterior wall, and we are to receive some of the supply for that by the end of the week. Not that there seems to really be much harm in having such a large back door there in this weather.

[Unhooking her apron from the back of her desk chair - for in this environment she would rather avoid the possibility of ink being spilled on her after The Incident of last winter -, she ties it on while drifting to join him before the great drawers and cabinets.]

Is there a particular bit of received correspondence you're after, Seneschal?

[assistente]

Yes.

[Salvio places the last of the files back into their place in the drawer (or at least, their current place, until a better system is devised) and taps his fingers on the faces of the drawers as he stands. One over, two up.]

Oh. That was-- to the idea of the um, back door. If it was not so... destructive. It would almost be nice. Yes. Um, but I am glad to hear of the-- news of the repair, and... Um, I am looking from correspondence from the, um. The man. The--abomination. There was--a sort of reference to it, to, um, to previous correspondence, from Riftwatch, in a letter that was found. I don't know if you-- if you, um, heard--?

[skulltasm]

[ Perhaps unheard goes the tap-tap-tapping from one of the unopened file drawers. Not their fault, really, it's very faint. ]

[heirring]

Oh, from the mage! [is a brief spark of light for the pleasure of identifying that much amidst the Seneschal's verbal revisions quickly sucked cold for the unpleasantness of the subject. She frowns at the cabinets.]

I'd heard some part of it. An account of what the poor man had to say before things went so badly, but no—[Tap, tap. It's probably nothing.]—I wasn't aware we'd been corresponding with him. That certainly seems...

[She finds she doesn't have a word ready for it. To call it unfortunate feels somehow an understatement.]

Let us say complicated.

[assistente]

Yes-- yes, the--

[The mage. Salvio looks at the drawer that is close to his left elbow and gives it a little frown. The faint tap, it was clearly in his mind. A trick of his distraction.

He moves decisively to open the drawer that she had gestured to.]

'Complicated' is a good word for it. If it is true. Yes. It is foolish, but-- [He frowns, again, as he takes hold of the drawer pull.] I hope to find it. To refute it. Or... if it is, ah, true, then--we would know. Though I do not know what we would do, after that.

[skulltasm]

[ It's probably because the tapping is the sound of bone on glass within the cabinet, and not tapping on the cabinet itself. But wait, was that a sigh? Just then, before more rapid tapping? ]

[heirring]

Well. If it were true, I can hardly imagine that the gentleman in question is the first person to— [But she is distracted from finishing the thought, her frowning study of the cabinets deepening.]

Do you hear that?

[Is a somewhat hypothetical question, given that Wysteria doesn't wait for an answer before she hauls open one of the drawers between them to investigate that strange rattle.]

OPEN -- gallows ferry dock

[assistente]

[It isn't every day that the Seneschal leaves the Gallows. And he is not really leaving today, either, but has come down to the ferry dock to argue with a man who has disembarked with a freakishly large goat.

Words don't do it justice. This goat is nearly the size of a pony.]

No, this is not-- There has been some mistake, please. I did not-- Serrah, a moment--

[The man continues to talk over Salvio, jabbing his finger at a piece of paper he is holding. It says right here, mate, got it here--one goat, and that's your name, innit--

The goat, meanwhile, stares blankly forward, her yellow eyes fixed on some distant point in space. Or perhaps fixed on nothing at all. It is difficult to say, when it comes to the peculiar and unnerving eyes of a goat.

The argument goes on for some time, but eventually, Salvio can be seen dejectedly leading the goat into the Gallows, while the ferry sets off back to Kirkwall, with one slightly richer goat man on it.]

[lumelume]

[All the while, a little white dog with one floppy ear has been sitting patiently in the boat and giving the distinct impression that it is enjoying the scene.

Before the ferry can pull away, it hops off onto the dock and trots after Salvio and the goat, tail wagging cheerfully.]

[assistente]

[Salvio, plodding along, doesn't notice the dog straightaway. His eyes are set on home, and the goat isn't giving him any trouble.

The goat doesn't seem to notice the dog either. Its weird eyes keep staring forward, dead set. It's when Salvio is looking around at it nervously that he sees the white flash of the dog's wagging tail. He cranes his neck to see around the goat.

Oh. A dog. He gives it a quick smile, uncertain, and then... looks forward again. Perhaps if he ignores it.]

[lumelume]

[Inexplicably, the dog seems to smile back. It trots along with them, for all the world appearing to completely belong to this cluster of strange companions.]

[assistente]

[Oh. Well. His smile wavers slightly, uncertain. But that is... maybe normal for a dog. Salvio has very little experience.

After a bit more progress, he breaks the silence between the three of them--man, two animals--]

Do you belong?

[The dog, obviously. The goat is now unfortunately his responsibility.]

[lumelume]

[The dog sits with a gentle wag of its tail and licks its lips.

Hopefully that's enough of an answer.]

[assistente]

[So that's a yes. But, oh, it stopped walking. Salvio also stops walking, so he does not move too far ahead of the dog. The goat does not have such courtesy. It continues to plod along, soon to surpass Salvio.

Quickly, before the goat draws too far ahead, Salvio hazards a guess at a command:]

Er. Come along--?

[Is that the correct, for a dog?]

[lumelume]

[The dog seems to understand, and hops back up to keep following him. Well, if you say so!]

[assistente]

[Salvio has, unfortunately, said so, yes. The peculiar little parade continues through the main courtyard, the clomp of goat hooves echoing sharply and overpowering the softer tread of Salvio's boots, and even the clack-clack-clack of dog nails on cobblestones.

Through one gate, and then a smaller notched door, and then another, and they are at last in a garden, where a thick thatch of grass is waiting for the goat. Salvio has continually looked down to see if the dog has peeled off to find its owner, or stayed and kept pace. Each time, he has seen it keeping pace, and has grown more and more concerned.

Now he looks down at the dog, little lines of anxiety tugging at his face.]

You, um. May stay here. I suppose. Unless there is... Well, this is stupid, Pizzicagnolo, really, even for you. [DOGS CAN'T TALK. How dumb, then, to stand here and talk at one.]

[lumelume]

[The dog listens attentively nonetheless, and for all Salvio knows, he's its owner now.

When he pauses to look at it again, it sits back on its haunches with its front legs curled by its chest, sitting pretty.]

[assistente]

[Oh, dammit.

Salvio sighs, and turns away so he can knot the goat's lead about an iron ring that has been built into the wall for this purpose. With the beast secure--]

Come along, we will find some food.

[If he has to be RESPONSIBLE for this dog he's going to do it right.]

[lumelume]

[Tail wagging cheerfully, the dog hops up to follow Salvio, claws tip-tapping jauntily on the ground.]