faderift | CLOSED | two logs one cup.

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Interview with a mudpire / Interview with an elfthing
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: The Library / The Docks
NOTES: N/a atm, will update if needed, tw: mud.

FOR EDGARD.

The library is a quiet place in general, but especially in the earlier morning, when most haven't woken enough to focus on books. Mhavos has always been an early riser, though, and waits in an alcove for Edgard.

It's strange to be genuinely excited. Mhavos has always had a thirst for knowledge, but it gets greater around truly unknowable qualities. Why is this man obsessed with mud? What does he think a book about mud will contain? Is the mud a metaphor? Does he know what a metaphor is?

Mhavos sits with a book in front of him, a candle for better lighting, watered ale and coffee in equal measures. He's taken dictation before. You never know what you may need.

FOR VANADI.

Mhavos is terribly fond of The Greedy Hag.

The sign out front is a cruel caricature of an old Elven woman, but walking inside, one is greeted by the real thing. Matron Tarell has been working on the docks for decades, and knows how to bargain for the best fish, the best prices, and has built up enough goodwill to stake out her own little corner of the world. Mhavos appreciates her tenacity, and the fact that she allows him to take up one of her tables, sometimes for hours, just to eat sparingly and read a book. She never asks why. She never bothers him.

Mhavos takes a seat at the time agreed upon with Vanadi, and tells Tarell that he's expecting a guest. Then he waits, occasionally looking out the window, occasionally reading from a small chapbook he's brought along with him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Edgard pauses for a long moment.

"Many are, but not all. And baths the most. But, society exists, there is nothing to be done about that. This isn't about ridding yourself of society, its about becoming closer to truth."

"Hm," Mhavos considers it, with genuine interest crossing his features. "So you are not... so to speak, against society. Not opposed. Only of forgetting your origins."

"I am not for society either, but yes, its more about our origins, as you say. The closer to mud, the closer to truth, you see?"

Edgard smiles with delight. He had no idea he'd find such an attentive listener in Mhavos.

Mhavos is unexpectedly satisfied with the depth of this rogue philosophe, and continues to scrawl extra notes down.

"You came to this realization entirely on your own?"

Edgard starts a little.

"I-I think so. I've not really spoken to anyone about it before. But, I suppose other people must've influenced it. I don't know. As far as I know, I came up with it on my own."

Mhavos attempts a comforting smile. "You ought to be bolder. It's quite original. It... echoes certain other philosophies I've read, but only insofar as it is influenced by the world we all live in."

Edgard leans forward and puts his chin on his hand.

“You really think so? I‘ve never fancied myself particularly original. It seems perfectly logical to me.”

He sees Mhavos’ genuine interest and smiles widely.

Seeing behavior that could be considered mildly coquettish from this man is certainly... a sight. Mhavos commits it to memory in his mind's eye, for all he could mock it, it is a display of kindness.

"My philosophy," Mhavos says quietly, to a man he is quickly considering a friend, "is that we are all of us truly unique in one or two ways. It is just a matter of finding that art, and pulling it forth to display its beauty, before the world stamps it out of us."

Edgard's eyes gleam and he nods at Mhavos who he is beginning to respect a great deal.

"It's a good philosophy. Suggests you see something worthy in everyone. That's admirable. I suppose the trick is holding on to it."

He motions to Mhavos' writing. "Do you write your philosophies too?" He removes his hand from under his chin and taps the table write next to his notes lightly for emphasis.

"Nearly everyone," Mhavos says dryly, but he nods in agreement overall. Looking down at the journal in his hands, he looks almost surprised. "Oh- no, no, of course not. I enjoy organizing and archiving and reading, but I've not a single spark of creativity within me."

Edgard scrunches up his face and shakes his head.

"You do not think what you just said is worthy of being written down? Because I do. I expect you have more to say. Like I did about mud."

No spark of creativity, Edgard's ass!!

"Please rest easy, my attempts at poetry are better off cast into the void." Mhavos shakes his head. "And my mouth is better off shut, so my head stays on my shoulders."

"If you say so. But, I'd be interested in anything you had to say."

Edgard leans back.

"So, do you think my mud knowledge is good enough for your book? Pamphlet?"

"I think," Mhavos says, deftly stepping over the subject of creativity and himself, "it's certainly worth archiving in Riftwatch's records. And perhaps, if you wouldn't mind more interviews such as this, we can put something together for publication."

Edgard puts his hands together and taps the table with them.

"I would talk about this subject any time you wish."

Edgard smiles to himself. Finally, it feels like he has a friend.

Mhavos dips his head, reaching out for a handshake, and trying not to consider it a rather forward thing of an elf, to a human. An Orlesian human.

"Next week, this time? I have some other work to catch up on, but... soon."

Edgard's face lights up at the offered hand and he grasps it with both of his and shakes it firmly.

"Very soon, I hope. Thank you very much, Mhavos."

CLOSED | two logs one cup.

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completely missed notifs on this log.....

no prob, bob