CLOSED | two logs one cup.

[murderbaby]

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.

Comments

The Mudpire has arrived!

[muckspout]

Edgard yawns as he reaches the library at the designated time. He isn't an early riser naturally, but he is thrilled that someone--anyone--will listen to his thoughts on mud. He finds Mhavos in an alcove and slides into chair across from him. He shoots him a grin.

"Are you ready? How does this work? Do I speak and you write or do you ask questions?"

Of course, Mhavos will have lots of questions about mud either way, its only natural.

l'horreur

[murderbaby]

Mhavos quirks a brow. At least he's enthusiastic.

"I imagine it will be just as it was back in Orlais. I will ask a few questions to get you started, and then later transcribe them from shorthand-" he shows the marks in the book he's already made, nothing like letters, "and we will work together to edit it into a readable... account."

An account of mud.

[highborn]

Is the sign irony? Or is this something that ought to annoy him? He's not quite yet worked out the rules of being a lower class citizen, it's all still new and a bit bewildering. He's paused in front of the building, in sight of the window, to consider the sign for a few seconds longer than any local might. But in time he runs a hand through his hair, straightens his warm and reasonably comfortable voluminous cloak, and steps inside.

He's looking for ... well, an elf, obviously. He's less clear on the face, but between that and the early hour keeping the room fairly clear, Vanadi makes an educated guess and heads for Mhavos with a smile at the ready.

"Mhavos, I hope?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos had been expecting another gargantuan elf, shining impossible light, dressed down from resplendent beauty into some mockery of mortality. Vanadi is, of course, handsome, but in a way Mhavos registers as still, essentially, elven.

"Yes," Mhavos says, setting his book aside, title facing down. He rises to greet Vanadi with a brisk handshake. "A pleasure. I trust you had no trouble finding the place?"

This is how dates work, right? Banal pleasantries?

Re: l'horreur

[muckspout]

Edgard nods several times very deeply. Mhavos seems very professional. Edgard finds himself a little nervous.

"What would you like to know?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos considers it for a second.

"I think anything with such a unique philosophy with this, an introduction is in order. You gave me an abbreviated one before, but please, could you tell me... at greater length, where your feelings on mud came from, and how you equate it to the philosophy of the world."

[highborn]

He meets that outstretched hand with both of his, taking and clasping it briefly. He's perfectly familiar with a brisk handshake, he simply chooses to ignore them.

"None at all, thank you," he says, having grown up on banal pleasantries, and slides into his seat after only reluctantly releasing Mhavos's hand back to him. He's quick to drop his chin into a palm, striking a balance between familiar and poised.

"Do you know," he says, sounding thoughtful, "It wasn't until I read your elf treatise that I realized my eyes were doing that trick with the gleam in darkness too. It's very unsettling."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos knows he's easily charmed, but that's a distant thought when faced with a man so obviously charming. He keeps his expression neutral, but his motions are easier, voice gentler, more genuine.

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that. It varies among elves, of course, but in general, we see better than humans, especially in darkness."

[highborn]

He waves his free hand, dismissive.

"Oh, that part's no different, I could always see more clearly through darkness than a human. But the gleam." He huffs. "I suppose this means I ought to have more mirrors in my quarters, that it took me this long."

[muckspout]

Edgard takes a deep breath, clears his throat, and begins speaking reverently.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in forests. With trees above your head and dirt under your feet. It’s nature, it’s natural, as we were intended to be. Sleeping on the ground, watching the sun, hearing it’s rhythms. But, mud! It is the combination of two powerful things: water and dirt. Together it represents who we are. It is me, it is you, it is all of Thedas. With mud we are pure! We are always clean. So, it’s everything really.”

[murderbaby]

Mhavos keeps his face carefully neutral from years of practice. He's written everything down in looping shorthand, to be looked over later.

"And... I think any reader will want to know the exact connection between cleanliness and mud...liness."

[muckspout]

Edgard nods. He was expecting this question.

"We are at our most natural when we are with the mud, that is the combination of water and dirt. When we are natural, we are already clean. To rid ourselves of this is to no longer be clean. Mud is clean. Do you understand?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos nods with practiced neutrality. "So you propose that true cleanliness is found in a state of nature. Do you feel man is more humane in nature? So-called civilizing forces attempt to 'cleanse' us of mud and nature."

In the margins, he writes other philosophers that may agree with Edgard... metaphorically, if not literally.

[muckspout]

Edgard is inflamed with excitement.

"Yes! Correct." He hits the table in emphasis. "When we are among nature, it is our true selves as we are meant to be. Civilization, as you say, has created this 'soap' and these 'baths' to hide us and we are miserable as a result! We are more humane in nature, yes, but everything exists and happens and its hard to get back to what we were meant to be. So, a little dirt and a little mud is our way in."

[murderbaby]

"To remind us of our true selves," Mhavos says. It's a solid philosophy, even if it's not one he'll personally be following to the letter. "To resist the corrupting forces of society."

He writes this down.

"Do you believe all forms of society are corrosive? Or only baths?"

[muckspout]

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."

[murderbaby]

"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."

[muckspout]

"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.

[murderbaby]

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?"

[muckspout]

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."

[murderbaby]

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."

[muckspout]

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.

[murderbaby]

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."

[muckspout]

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.

[murderbaby]

"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."