WHO: Ellis + OTA WHAT: Homecoming WHEN: Guardian WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: Thread collection. Closed and open starters in the comments. Holler if you want something bespoke or drop in a wildcard, I'll roll with it.
A moment to doublecheck the chair he's laid a hand on isn't also harboring a small pile of books, before Ellis does pull it back and lift it, cementing his claim. As to the offer—
"If you wouldn't mind handling some maps."
There might be a ladder. There one was a ladder, but who knows who had made off with it for some alternate reason. Ellis has little idea of what Satinalia was like this year, but it wouldn't surprise him had several ladders been employed to decorate or if some disaster had occurred and damaged the lot, or—
There are possibilities. Ellis finds it best not to dwell.
Thankfully no books on the seats. People need those sometimes, you see. Mobius gets up with a little stretch. "I'll handle whatever needs handling, sure. Don't mind the mess," with a wave to the table, "just doing some organizing. Seems like a lot of people haven't heard of organization for, you know, an organization."
It's probably not as bad as he makes it sound, but Maker's breath, books back in the Circle being out of place would've gotten someone chewed out with extra work at least, so maybe he's been spoiled with a certain expectation.
"No one's told me off for taking someone else's job yet."
"We'd had an archivist," Ellis says, tone mild in spite of some minor twinge of disapproval. "But he's been gone for some time now."
Longer than Ellis. Perhaps he will never see Mhavos again. Wherever he's gone, Ellis hopes he's found some solace there. Whatever peace can be found in these times, with war escalating around them.
"I don't know that anyone's put themselves forward for it."
Not that Ellis is exactly up to date on the happenings around the Gallows. He can't imagine it's so changed that they are suddenly blessed with all the help they might need.
A tip of his head as he turns back to the shelves. Expecting to be followed, back to the carefully stacked rolls of maps atop the stacks.
"I imagine that happens a lot." That they've had people in certain roles. And now they're gone. That's what war certainly seems to do. The Inquisition seemed so much larger even with its fledgling beginnings than Riftwatch does now; each loss is probably felt more than in a larger organization. (Like the Inquisition of now.)
Still. Mobius would prefer to get his bearings first before he jumps in and snipes anyone's job, even if they aren't here. He follows along dutifully, and eyes the stack of maps with a little sigh. "Yeah, those probably need a better place somewhere."
Or at the very least, labels affixed to the ends rather than the middles. Perhaps this was a convenient system when the Gallows had someone tending this room, back when it was more prison than makeshift barracks.
If that aye is meant to stretch to encompass the comings and goings of Riftwatch, Ellis gives no sign. The topic can pass. He instead positions the stool, nudges it in securely against the shelves, before ascending to stretch a hand up to the heap of maps.
"Mind your head," in the event that once one is dislodged, the others follow.
Not a very talkative one. That's fine. They don't always have to be. Sometimes a man just wants to get his work done. Mobius doesn't press the issue, as it's really not much of an issue at all.
"Consider it minded." He keeps his arms resting on one of the shelves, there to catch anything that might fall, or there to handle anything passed to him. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're looking for?"
Is not exactly an answer. But it does explain why Ellis is passing down tube after tube to Mobius. No, nothing is labeled. It might have been, once. But time passes. Labels fade, or flake off, and there has not been an archivist to attend the matter.
"Anderfels, and the north," he tacks on. "I've a report to complete, and the map might be of use."
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no subject
A moment to doublecheck the chair he's laid a hand on isn't also harboring a small pile of books, before Ellis does pull it back and lift it, cementing his claim. As to the offer—
"If you wouldn't mind handling some maps."
There might be a ladder. There one was a ladder, but who knows who had made off with it for some alternate reason. Ellis has little idea of what Satinalia was like this year, but it wouldn't surprise him had several ladders been employed to decorate or if some disaster had occurred and damaged the lot, or—
There are possibilities. Ellis finds it best not to dwell.
"Assuming you are in a place to leave off."
no subject
It's probably not as bad as he makes it sound, but Maker's breath, books back in the Circle being out of place would've gotten someone chewed out with extra work at least, so maybe he's been spoiled with a certain expectation.
"No one's told me off for taking someone else's job yet."
no subject
Longer than Ellis. Perhaps he will never see Mhavos again. Wherever he's gone, Ellis hopes he's found some solace there. Whatever peace can be found in these times, with war escalating around them.
"I don't know that anyone's put themselves forward for it."
Not that Ellis is exactly up to date on the happenings around the Gallows. He can't imagine it's so changed that they are suddenly blessed with all the help they might need.
A tip of his head as he turns back to the shelves. Expecting to be followed, back to the carefully stacked rolls of maps atop the stacks.
no subject
Still. Mobius would prefer to get his bearings first before he jumps in and snipes anyone's job, even if they aren't here. He follows along dutifully, and eyes the stack of maps with a little sigh. "Yeah, those probably need a better place somewhere."
no subject
Or at the very least, labels affixed to the ends rather than the middles. Perhaps this was a convenient system when the Gallows had someone tending this room, back when it was more prison than makeshift barracks.
If that aye is meant to stretch to encompass the comings and goings of Riftwatch, Ellis gives no sign. The topic can pass. He instead positions the stool, nudges it in securely against the shelves, before ascending to stretch a hand up to the heap of maps.
"Mind your head," in the event that once one is dislodged, the others follow.
no subject
"Consider it minded." He keeps his arms resting on one of the shelves, there to catch anything that might fall, or there to handle anything passed to him. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're looking for?"
no subject
Is not exactly an answer. But it does explain why Ellis is passing down tube after tube to Mobius. No, nothing is labeled. It might have been, once. But time passes. Labels fade, or flake off, and there has not been an archivist to attend the matter.
"Anderfels, and the north," he tacks on. "I've a report to complete, and the map might be of use."