faderift | [OPEN-ISH] Sometimes I feel like my brain turns to leaves

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[OPEN-ISH] Sometimes I feel like my brain turns to leaves

WHO: Julius, Ellie, Strange, Barrow, Wysteria, Benedict, and anyone else who wants to tap in
WHAT: Julius has a new job
WHEN: Vaguely after the return from the Silent Plains
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Feel free to tag in responding to the main text, or talk to me OOC if you'd like to hash out a bespoke starter.

When Julius realized he was the last dedicated project leader remaining, it had been clear to him that the position was likely to change or vanish in short order. The organization has contracted, and distinctions that were once useful have become redundant. It's not as if his knowledge from the project would be lost, or that he doesn't trust the new division heads. To the contrary, he's worked with Niehaus on red lyrium for years, and Derrica is among his nearest and dearest. They are sensible choices and that are also personally advantageous to him.

If a small part of his mind registers frustration at not swinging up the ladder himself, there's another part ready to point out all the reasons he wasn't the most strategic choice, many of which were the results of his own actions. It's fine.

Seneschal is unquestionably a position they need filled, and also one that requires trust. He's here because he's earned that. And he's willing to shelve his own ambitions (or at least turn them down a bit) in the name of a well-run, effective organization. It's not as if he isn't a practical man. But it's an adjustment. It certainly feels a bit like starting over, not least as he settles into a new office. He's not set official office hours yet, but he can be found sorting through a variety of books, papers, and correspondence more often than not for the first week or so.

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The trouble—and indeed the very root of the issue, leading to the suffering of colleagues and nominal-supervisors alike—is, that for all that Wysteria de Foncé is imminently predictable in some regards, she is in others imminently unpredictable.

Hence, at a rather inconveniently early hour on a day that is likely far sooner than anyone who is definitely not procrastinating, only strategizing would probably really like, Wysteria is already waiting when Julius arrives at his office. She has in her possession three very ominous things: a leather bound folio book bursting with papers, a a plate sized parcel wrapped in waxed paper tied with a brown string, and a cheery disposition.

"Good morning, Enchanter! Or I supposed it is Seneschal, now. Many happy congratulations on your appointment."

"Seneschal will suit, I think. And my thanks." If he's anything other than happy to see her, there's not hint of it in his manner. He has a cup of tea in one hand, a few folios of paper tucked under the other arm. Opening the door with enough skill to suggest he's quite used to doing so with his hands nominally full, he gestures her in first.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting. I haven't quite worked out my plan for regular office hours yet."

The office is still mid-unpacking, though his desk is neat enough to let him get work done there. Across the desk from the chair it seems like he's been using, two more are arranged for discussion or collaboration.

"Certainly not. I have only been here for the last half hour, but I expected to wait. I have always been a persistently early riser, which is rarely the case for our fellows here in the Gallows unless otherwise required. And besides, I am patient enough."

Is, possibly, the first time anyone in the world has assigned the descriptor of patient to the young lady; does it count if she's given it to herself?

Once inside the office, Wysteria gravitates toward one of the chairs on the near side of the desk. First though, she sets her folio there at the edge of the desk, and so too the plate sized parcel wrapped in wax paper.

"I thought we might discuss the filing system. As you know, I was once the Seneschal's assistant—not Enchanter Black, of course. No, I am naturally referring to Seneschal Pizzicagnolo. But, if I'm not mistaking, his successor did very little to alter the filing system he and I settled on, and so I believe my expertise may still be of some good to you."

"I think that's a reasonable place to begin. Some of it has been self-evident, but I expect you could save me a bit of time, for which I'd be grateful." He settles in his chair. As he sets down his cup, he adds, "I hope you'll forgive me; if I'd known we were meeting, I would have brought tea for you as well. Another time, perhaps."

"Oh, not at all," she insists, waving the apology away. "I am perfectly content. Although here! Would you believe that I have brought just the thing to go along with it. What serendipity."

And indeed, she pauses in laying out the folio with is adundance of papers to instead nip out the tie of twine holding the wax paper packet closed. Unfolding it, Wysteria reveals a cheese and herb bread of considerable proportion.

"Why, I suppose one does occasionally trip into moments of considerable foresight from time to time," is exquisitely demurring. This is absolutely some form of bribery.

Whatever else can be said about Julius's leadership style, he is not above accepting snacks. "That's very kind of you, Mme de Foncé," he says, willing to accept the bread with good grace.

And, of business: "I knew you were assisting Pizzicagnolo in a general way, but what exactly did you help him with? Just filing?" There's no underside to the question, just a general hope to catch up on his predecessor's approach.

"Oh yes, the filing. That is to say predominantly the filing, and the organizing of correspondence, and so on. But also naturally as his confidante. We became quite close. I still write him, in fact. Did you know he collects pressed flowers? I do my best to send him the occasional blossom from the stranger plants we sometimes encounter even to this day."

She helpfully slides the bread on its waxed paper further across the desk. There's more where this came from, Julius.

"I would be happy to write a few pages summarizing the general shape of my work."

"That would be very helpful, thank you. And I didn't know, about the flowers. That's very thoughtful of you."

He takes a sip of tea and adds, before she go too much further afield, "I also wanted to speak to you, so it's fortuitous that you're here. As I'm settling in, I'm setting up a schedule, to make myself available to those of you I'm supervising. But before that's finalized, I thought it worthwhile to check in. See how you've been getting on. If there's anything you need that you don't have. I can't make promises to work miracles, but it will be helpful to get a baseline idea."

"Oh how thoughtful of you, Seneschal!" she cries, far too bright and cheerful to be unconcerned. Whatever else may be said about Wysteria de Foncé, she is not particularly skilled in the art of face to face deceit or distraction. Clearly, she would prefer not to discuss this particular matter and thus makes to breeze neatly beyond it.

"As it happens, I am perfectly content and in need of nothing at all that I can presently think of. But should those circumstances change, I will of course confer with you directly. Have you done much work of this particular nature, would you say? Obviously you have been directing Project Sashamiri for some time, of course. But I imagine all roles are slightly different from one another."

"Yes and no," he says, lightly thoughtful. "I grant you, the seneschal position takes a more fully practical approach, but I've always had a practical mind. Ordering an operation for Sashamiri wouldn't do much good without the resources to actually complete it, after all. And the Circle often had enchanters cycle through jobs relating to regulating supplies and personnel, so I did my turn there from time to time. I'm sure I've plenty to learn, but the basics are familiar."

He takes a sip of tea, apparently not in a rush at present. "You, on the other hand, aren't particularly new in your post anymore, at least by organization standards. How have you found it?" If he can't come at it one way, he's perfectly content to circle around and try another.

"Oh, well enough," is as breezy as a dismissive of the hand. "One would think it would be a demanding position given the general attitudes of the company—which is to say, combative—, however I'm sure you are well aware how the members of Riftwatch tend to keep their personal affairs quiet and attend to solving disagreements where no one will overhear. They are all rather private, and so the role has presently been highly— Well, not figurative. Certainly there are various initiatives I have considered. And were there some disagreement in need of resolution, I would of course be the first to interfere with it."

All this, she says very briskly. And, after a sucked down breath, continues yet further to add:

"I suspect it is one of those positions which one takes for granted until it is required."

"Mhm." Julius's general demeanor remains pleasant but thoughtful as he pauses to take another sip of his tea. He doesn't seem bothered by her briskness, but she evidently isn't going to hurry him. "I suppose there are many positions that could be described that way, including my new one. Invisible until something comes up."

A short pause, and then he adds, "What sort of initiatives have you considered, then?" Easy and genuine.

"Well," she says, in the tone of voice of a person who once a long time ago drew up a lost and who has now more or less forgotten about it until exactly this moment.

"I had proposed the formalization of a sort of agreement to certain kind of conduct which we might all ascribe to. Expectations, you see, of certain rules for the organization which might be suitable and how we might address the breaking of those rules. But that's the sort of thing which requires those whom it will set in order to first agree to it, and I can't say that I was given the impression that most members embraced the possibility. And no one was very keen on the idea of dueling or any other way of settling affairs."

"I agree that we shouldn't encourage dueling as a means of conflict resolution," mild. "If nothing else, our numbers aren't large enough we can afford self-inflicted injuries or worse." So there's that.

"That said, given that we're an organization that has decided to do without harsher forms of discipline, I do think the idea has some merits. Maybe something a bit broader, outlining expectations of conduct, potential non-duel recourse if another member of Riftwatch wrongs you in some way. If nothing else, it might be useful for new arrivals and recruiting."

"Yes, I agree. But I would argue that I can hardly impose certain rules and regulations of my own volition. It would require—well, your approval, for one. And the Division Heads, naturally. But moreover, as we are predominantly an organization of"—miscreants and scoundrels—"volunteers, I imagine that any such expectations and the means by which they're enforced must rise up from the lower ranks, so to speak. I'm more than happy to inquire on the subject again, but I can't say that I anticipate a more considered response this time than the last."

Deep breath. She continues, "The people who are most often given to be sensitive about matters of conduct imagine themselves to be capable of enforcing whatever repercussions they choose, and to do so privately without the interference of the organization. The rest don't seem to believe it's necessary."

"I take your point that you would need to know the Division heads and myself would stand behind any given set of regulations. But I would argue that the nature of your position puts you in a natural place to propose some, at least in the specific sphere of 'how Riftwatch agents interact with one another.' There are potential penalties that could be unpleasant enough to be a deterrent without actively hindering Riftwatch's operations. I don't imagine such a system would remove the need for attention on an individual basis, but it could also empower you to point to a previously agreed-on standard."

He smiles a little, and adds, "If you feel you'd like more buy in, you could always recruit one or two of your potential holdouts to help you draft a version in the first place. Give them a stake in the project. But. Merely suggestions. The last time I worked on anything similar, I had the opposite problem, in that no one was present voluntarily."

"But that is of course my meaning—" she begins to say. The last time she had made inquiries, she'd been met with jokes or silence and little between the two points. Hardly rich earth for tilling, as certain University of Markham scholars might say. But here she pauses, wrinkling her nose. If it's a little sullen—

Well, then it just is. Sometimes one is a very busy young lady, and somewhat prone to disliking the pretense of yet more work (nevermind it being work for an office she had elected to snatch).

"I suppose I might propose a series of articles, and then demand a response within a particular time frame. 'Speak now, or hold your tongue later' sort of business."

"Perhaps. If you were inclined to approach it that way, I would suggest giving the Division Heads an opportunity to review them before opening them to the company at large." Yet another draft may not be the most compelling idea on its face, but he adds, "If you present it to the organization already knowing the leadership is at least open to all you present, it can allow for genuine discussion without the potentially awkward addition of one of the Division Heads publicly intervening."

(Then again, maybe not everyone is obsessively devoted to not losing face, Julius.)

"I only think, in your place, I might wish a more organized framework. But I am not attempting to directly intervene, only to understand your approach," he adds, mildly.

For a split second it seems as if she might reply instantly. Then, her mouth buttons up tight. She takes a thin breath in through the nose, a flicker of frustration evident in her face as she measures some invisible thing inside her head; when she speaks again, it's to ask—

"And what sort of expectations would you suggest, Seneschal? Were you the one drafting the rules of conduct."

He tilts a hand. "Obviously, it would take some thought. Offhand, I would say the most extreme cases aren't pressing; everyone in the company, I assume, knows that murdering a fellow Riftwatch agent or knowingly passing information to the enemy is immediate grounds for expulsion, and more dire consequences as well. More useful might be something like ... What happens if someone refuses to work with another agent because of their political beliefs or nationality? What if someone were to keep a neighbor from getting sufficient sleep because of a mismatch in their waking hours and refused to adjust their behavior after the neighbor asked? What are the rules differentiating personal affects from Riftwatch's collective resources?"

Julius shrugs. "Maybe we are small enough that these things don't need to be spelled out. But if they have been spelled out and agreed upon, it gives you new power as mediation officer to back up your judgments. As no document could cover every case, obviously your judgment would still be in play, but in more routine instances, possibly useful. Or not — again, I don't mean to say this must happen, only to explain what I mean."

"I understand entirely what you mean. And am agreed that there eought to be expectations and certain agreed upon behavior. My point is that the What happens requires at least some small measure of agreement among the company as well—an understanding from those in Riftwatch who spend a majority of their time outside of offices—, and the what happens would seem to be very nebulous indeed. I have asked these questions before, Seneschal, and no one seems particularly ready or willing to suggest an answer. Not seriously, in any case."

She spreads her hand across the arm of the chair. It's her own kind of shrug.

"So what would your answer be? Let us take one of the more trivial crimes. I have had things stolen by other Riftwatch members—in the past, not now obviously. What do you believe would have been fair recourse for such a thing?"

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[OPEN-ISH] Sometimes I feel like my brain turns to leaves

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