Sina Library: Book Donation Drive
July 16, 2021, 6 p.m.
Arx - Lower Boroughs - Sina Plaza - Sina Library
Comments and Log
Blue, a cantankerous western bluebird arrives, following Gael.
1 Culler Boatswain, 2 Culler Midshipman, Gael arrive, following Samira.
Atreke, a severe-looking scribe, Chunk, a Maelstrom Forest Cat arrive, following Rinel.
The doors to the library are open, allowing folk from all walks of life to stream in. The main foyer has been lined with tables of refreshments as expected for any social gathering. Raja, rather heavy with child stands near one of these tables, holding her own glass of wine. "Welcome!" She calls to people as they enter.
Oswyn comes in, hefting a backpack with a bit of a wince. Maybe it's heavy! Then again, he doesn't look all that strapping, so.... who even knows. "I brought donations," the Scholar announces.
Rinel is sorting through a growing pile of books at a nearby table. The woman looks completely in her element. "Donations! Donations go here!" she calls, waving her cane in the air.
Rinel drops A cheap wooden footlocker.
Rinel takes Wynna's Cheap Perfume from A cheap wooden footlocker.
Rinel takes a woodland rabbit mask from A cheap wooden footlocker.
Rinel takes a golden token set with a vibrant emerald from A cheap wooden footlocker.
Rinel takes a golden token set with a vibrant emerald from A cheap wooden footlocker.
Oswyn heads for Rinel's table, then. He unshoulders the backpack and plonks it down nearby. "Ooof."
Oswyn drops a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Raimon gets Poetry On Time Collection from adventurer's backpack with bedroll.
Rinel beams at Oswyn. "Brother Spencer. Welcome! Welcome."
Two figures step into the libary, one of diminutive stature, the other tall and broad-shouldered. Whether by practice or by instinct, the artist and her Confessor companion manage to match their incongruous strides in order to travel at the same pace. Samira glances to Gael, murmuring low, before sweeping a gaze across the building's interior. "I'm sorry, I'm coming empty-handed this time. But I promise I'll contribute more soon," she calls to Raja once she has spotted the other Culler nearby.
Merek walks along and into the place, adjusting his attire while he brings a book with him and finds a place to watch and wait.
"Miss Tern," Oswyn greets Rinel with a quick, close-lipped smile. "It's been some time. The fight against the Eurusi, I believe. I hope you're well?" He starts pulling books out of the backpack and setting them on the table. "Almost everything the shop carries, minus the two larger works."
The growing pile of books at Rinel's table gives Raja a grin. "If you bring books, please, give them to the Library's esteemed librarian!" A hand is gestured to Rinel. Raja is over the moon right now, excited for all this. She makes her way towards the table and peers at the newest donations from Oswyn, "Oh. This one seems interesting." She plucks out a book called 'Forgotten Library'. She glances to Oswyn, "Thank you kindly! Very generous!"
Rotten odors roil thick as steam, of rotten fish and onion, clinging to this arriving figure. An ululating animal moan is born in the air. It grows, and grows with the thunder of the Confessor's mismatched feet, it an answer to Samira's whisper straight from his throat -- a petulant, pretentious sort of disdain that makes Gael's ghastly wheezing heady with a mannish, almost childish sort of scorn. "Fine," he at last says, sternly, stood there beside Samira and with adjacency to Raja. His hands are confined to the pockets of his coat, deep and out of sight, an altogether fatuous act. "I've got you a book," he recalls for Raja, his voice betraying impending apology. "But I forgot to bring it. I'm sorry. I will mail it."
Rinel smiles at Oswyn. "Yes. This is, thankfully, rather a more pleasant endeavour." Her eyes widen at the books. "Extremely generous."
Raja turns to look to Samira first. She is about to say something when her nose.. She recoils from Gael, looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed eyes. "Sure! This is not the only time the library will accept books." She leans in closer to Gael, whispering something before trundling her fatly pregnant self to the other side of the table. Pregnant noses are sensitive...
"I'm told Archscholar Sina was fond of the Forgotten Library series. Or at least interested in it," Oswyn tells Raja, still smiling, with a nod. His shoulders rise and fall in a quick shrug, and is that a blush? "Ah. Well. It's... sort of why I have the shop in the first place. To spread books and a love of reading. This is the perfect home for these." He looks over his shoulder at Gael, Raja, and Samira, and offers a nod.
Gael checks composure at hard. Gael fails.
Samira's lips curve into a triumphant smirk in response to Gael's one word answer, as if she anticipated it. "Wait. We have an esteemed librarian now?" The artist's attention shifts after hearing Raja's remark. She turns to survey the crowd, craning her neck as she attempts to determine which of those present might be taking on the new role. Oswyn receives a polite nod in return, his words receiving a somber glance. "Was she? I've never read the series, but hearing that makes me want to check it out."
The hulking carcass of a Confessor steams malodorously from his many crevices. The putrescence is horribly set, as though he hid decomposing things within the very confines of his coat. Whatever terrible, dooming thing Raja did whisper into Gael's ear after brings a far from subtle twitch to his left, scar-split brow. "Work," he dourly tells the expecting Culler, a thin mist of mouthwater spraying from between his gritted teeth. About the new 'librarian', Gael ventures, "Rinel Tern?" Who happens to be in the room.
Rinel raises her cane in polite salute to Samira. "Rinel Tern," she says in confirmation. "Good afternoon, Confessor. You look..." Words fail her, for a moment. "...ripe."
Oswyn eases a side-step or two away from Gael. "That's, uh... Well, I've smelled worse?"
Raja perks at Samira, "Yes! She is amazing!" She gestures to Rinel. "Also have a gardener. Everett. He is a rather nice lad! He's going to tend the garden and the flowers around the plaza." To Oswyn, she leans closer, "I live down here in the boroughs, there is definitely worse things to sniff. Her eyes look about the room, spying the lone Merek sitting by the wall. "Hello! Don't be shy! Come on over!"
Tython arrives! Striding into the Library with a big, bright smile on his face, tailed by Vann, who's not smiling, but looking around as he goes, always keeping an eye open, when they're on the go. "Hey Raja!" He says, more loudly than he should, and then he clears his throat, and lowers his volume somewhat, as his gaze draws amongst those gathered, until his smile dissapears and he actually, physically recoils and startles at the sight of Gael. "Feckin' hell." He mutters to himself, even reaching back to nudge Vann, who's also staring in suprise but, he keeps it a bit less obvious.
"I grew up in the Lowers," Oswyn tells Raja amiably. "I think the worst things I've smelled have been doing work as a physician. Often involving infections or pus." He makes a face. Possibly he shouldn't have reminded himself of that. He nods to Tython when the man strides in.
Perhaps a lifetime lived in the Lowers has affected Samira's olfactory system for she doesn't make note of Gael's stench, at least not outwardly. "You know the new librarian, huh?" she asks of him before offering a casual upnod to the unfamiliar woman. A hand lifts, thumb jutting toward her chest to indicate herself. "Samira Culler. Good to meet you, Rinel Tern. You from 'round here? Otherwise I hope Raja briefed you on the sorts of things to expect around these parts." Recognition dawns as she listens to Raja's remarks. "I met Everett just the other day. He'd mentioned you. Seems like a good guy and it'll be nice to have someone tending to the flowers."
A single lamp casts creeping shadows across the opulent library, over perfectly polished wood and once-flaking, now re-finished plaster. It makes a sinister outline of the Confessor, however, turning Gael's face into an unfamiliar mask tinseled by a black, harrowing cover from his hat's low-luster leather trim that denies all light from overhead. Then, from out its darkness, two sapped eyes blink into view, looking from Rinel to Oswyn. A curse is nascent on his lips, each that from their commissures twitch, but he thinks better of it.
"Apologies, work," he tells each quietly, sighing. Tython's arriving frighten makes Gael flinch slightly, but that's about it. He greets the Culler with a limp hand-wave, then says of Rinel to Samira, "She saved my life."
"I spent most of my first year of Arx in the Murder," Rinel says to Samira with a slight smile. "As for the rest, well... I have the privilege of living in the Upper Boroughs, but my work with the Physicians finds me here more often than not." She looks surprised at Gael's admission. "I did what any Physician would do, Confessor," she says.
Raja admits to Gael, "Your work stinks." She says. She can't help it! The whole pregnancy thing and odors.. "But, Rinel, thank you for savin him. He's a good friend to me. I do love when things come together so nice! Anyways, my beginning in Arx was getting kicked out of the Murder." A smirk toys at her lips.
"Ahh well, I hope't involvesa' nice soapy shower'n tha' future mate!" Says Tython with a grin, and a cheery glimmer in his eye even if his nose is scrunched a bit, and he chuckles good-naturedly as he moves around a table and plops down into a chair, drawing a little flask, that seems to be made of clay, from his pocket, uncapping it and taking a sip.
Tython offers an upnod to Oswyn, having noted the upnod offered to him!
Rinel begins to root around in the backpack, making an unholy amount of noise and most certainly disrupting the event to an unreasonable degree. "Oh. Well. You're welcome, Goodwoman Culler. I'm... glad he has good friends."
Rinel takes Little Lora The Swimming Fish from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Benedetta Fazio's Guide to Economics from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Archscholar Jon's Compendium on Leaves from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Lonely Hearts - An Anthropologic Study of Romance and Duty in the Oathlands from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes A Grim Alliance - A Fictional Romance by Savessa Sortelli from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Scholar Oswyn's Guide to Research from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Overheard Tales - The Mirror Baroness from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Basics of Swordspersonship from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes The Codex of Tasty Animals from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Samira's hand lifts again, this time engaged in a wave toward Tython once she has spotted the new arrival. "A Physician? Probably means you have plenty of experience telling unruly patients to shut up and let you fix them. So between that and your time in the Murder, I figure you'll know what to expect." The words to Rinel are delivered with the beginnings of a wry grin. Brows lift, curiosity undeniable in the glance she sends toward Gael. "Saved your life? How so?"
Rinel takes Lady Avrenna's Guide to Manners from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Forgotten Library, Volume I - Beginnings by Alariel Sommers from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Forgotten Library, Volume II - The Hidden Temple by Alariel Sommers from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel takes Basics of Stewardship from a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel chuckles dryly. "I have had some practice at telling people to be quiet," she says, with a slightly mischievous grin and a sparkle in her eyes. "The Confessor was at the recent battle and sustained an injury." There's a glance to Gael. An upturned eyebrow. An unasked question.
Something, it seems, is going unsaid.
Gael squinty-eyes Raja and her conclusion, then slaps a hand on his hat's crown to more stubbornly set it in with an adjusting corkscrew. Wherever Tython sits after, Gael's vision jealously follows, unmistakably jealous of his freedom and remoteness. Then, Samira's question, and turning to view Rinel as his mouth emptily gesticulates to begin a reply, he catches the ex-scholar's pointed glance. His eyes go wide, darting subtly around the room. They go wider still when he realizes, again, the many faces around.
He snorts in air, the quick, hard breath of poorly-hidden abject terror, the greasy few strands of hair across his face blowing this way and that with the force of it. "I was wounded," he hurriedly tells Samira, his words wobbly and poorly defined. "She dealt with it, in a medical tent. Back in Pieros."
Oswyn reaches up and rubs the back of his head. "The library looks wonderful now," he announces. "This must have taken a lot of work."
Raja eyes Rinel, then Gale, then Rinel again. She then shrugs. She turns her gaze to Oswyn and smiles, "It did! Though, all I did was poke people to get things done. It was a tremendous amount of work and the community pulled together to help get it done. Prince to pauper working side by side. It was quite nice to see! Now, they can come and assemble in a common place for the common goal of becomming well-read." She beams in pride at the room. "I hear you have a shop? Which shop is it you run? I could come and check it out to see if there are new books on occasion."
Like her Culler sister, Samira takes a moment to eye Gael and Rinel with a shrewd, curious regard. The new librarian's response is met with a grin, an answering gleam of amusement briefly brightening her gaze. "Seems like a good skill to have." The grin fades, replaced with a more suitably solemn expression as she glances sidelong toward Gael, then back to Rinel. "Fortunate that you were there to assist. It's those like you who do the patching up that the rest of us ought to be thanking." Her chest puffs up with unspoken pride for the community as Raja recalls the joint effort of building the place, but she makes no comment. Instead, she leans in and mutters questioningly to Gael.
Merek puts Alchemist Guide: 101 in A cheap wooden footlocker.
"Let us ardently hope," Gael gushes nervously, vision flitting from Rinel to Samira, from her to the former again, "That she'll need not tie me together with bandages again anytime... soon." His voice quavers, then cracks entirely and uselessly at that final, hopeless word. The gutless fraud then twists, dark-like eyes snapping suddenly to Samira and her harbingering lean, then added whisper. A chill rolls up the nape of this Confessor's neck, and with it, he wavers. To her, he impulsively nods.
Oswyn's head bobs. "That's encouraging to hear," he tells Raja. "I did manage to stop by a couple of times during the process. And, ah, yes. Books and Scribing Supplies. It's near the Vellichorian Academy. You have most of the works sold there now. At some point I'm told there will be a new Forgotten Library books and I've been meaning to write one with the basics of diplomacy..."
Rinel laughs softly at Gael's words. "Yes, the Physician's greatest happiness is a lack of clients. A paradoxical business, to be sure. Thankfully I have my little shop to keep me busy."
Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a reaver arrives, delivering a message to Samira before departing.
Raja nods emphatically at Oswyn, "I will be happy to stop by! Perhaps we can come to some sort of business arrangement for copies of you newest releases. I am not expecting you to do all that work for free. I am willing to pay." She looks to the Forgotten Library series, "I see volume one and two.. are there more of these?"
"Not yet," Oswyn admits. "Soon, supposedly. And the books are priced affordably at the shop --- so commoners can fill their shelves, too." Another little smile; he glances over his shoulder and says, "Do excuse me. Excellent work here. I'm so glad to see this place succeeding. Do be well."
Oswyn takes a large and kind of heavy backpack.
Rinel says, "Farewell, scholar. Thank you for your donations."
Raimon watches the stream of folks as people walk on in either singly or in bunches. As Luck would have it, it turns out that he knows pretty much everyone here. Everyone, that is, -except- the Librarian. Which is odd. And yet also, in fact, quite easily remedied. Raimon waits his turn in line, holding two books to which he has personally contributed. When it's his turn, the tallish man with not a whole lot to say hands the two volumes to Rinel with a quiet understated motion, accompanied by one simple nod, and then smoothly and quietly stands off to the side. Raimon remains within easy conversational distance, but unobtrusively so. Just the way he goes about things. Raimon waves farewell to the newly departing Godsworn of Vellichor with just the wisp of a grin as Oswyn passes.
Rinel checks perception and investigation at hard. Rinel marginally fails.
"Many thanks, Goodman," Rinel says, completely missing the fact that said goodman is wearing a ring of Great House Thrax as she focuses on the books. "These are wonderful collections."
Raimon puts A silver signet ring of Thrax in adventurer's backpack with bedroll.
Raja glances up as one of the Princes of Thrax come in, delivering a pair of books to Rinel. The dark-skinned woman moves to rise up and stalk the prince, "Your highness! It is good to see you again! You have done so much for the library! From helping to drag out debris to battling beetles the size of cats.."
"Oh? What sort of shop do you own?" Samira asks of Rinel. She glances once again toward Gael, eyeing him with a look that seems to vacillate between concern and utter confusion. Her lips press together, thinned into an inscrutable line.
Raimon nods happily to Rinel, clearly taking no offense whatsover. "It's a beautiful place. Perhaps we could even hold classes here, once things get underway?" Raimon turns at Raja speaks, and waves happily to Raja, "Aye, the beetles were by far the worst of it." Raimon grins, remembering.
Air snorts in shallow through Gael's nose, bubbling back out warily through his lightly parted, glassy lips. Samira's weighty stare he doesn't meet, yet judging the way his shoulders stiffly rise perhaps it augurs upon him nonetheless. He makes use of this momentous pause in conversation for a hasty retreat, blundering through the painstakingly arranged chairs and tables to flop beside Tython's chair into his own, pouring himself across it. Head leaned forward, hat's abundant brim covering most of his grim bearing. "You did great work here," he tells the Culler, a sedated compliment.
Rinel looks up at the mention of highnesses and focuses on Raimon. This time she examines him more thoroughly, her green eyes running him up and down with open curiosity. "Ah. I see it now. Golden buttons. And... an unusual leather. Nothing I have seen from the Oathlands--and I am unaware of any aquatic creature that might provide such hide for a commoner. My apologies, your Highness." Her brow furrows slightly. "/Interesting/," she murmurs, before turning to Samira with a sudden bright smile. "A smithy. Very small. Tinsmithing, mostly, but I do occasionally dabble in jewelry. Her Highness the Princess Alarissa Thrax was kind enough to grace me with several commissions."
Tython's eyebrows lift a bit as Gael moves over to speak to him, he.. tries not to recoil again. Vann, who's sitting two chairs down, seems grateful to be a bit further away than his boss. "Ah, well it weren't me directly." He says with a smile. "But I'm gonna' be makin' somethin' nice fer outside. I helped wit' somea' tha' startin' cleanup, nothin' tae' do too much with tha' furniture're nothin'."
Raja beams a smile at Raimon, "There are plans for holding classes. Would you like to hold a class? Or.. maybe we can hold a class of a topic you are interested in?" She moves to where the prince sits and politely sits across from him. "Princess Alarissa has pledged a lot of books. I look forward to seeing what daring books she comes up with!"
Gael glares at the table before him in icy silence, the immediate atmosphere to his being heavy with some seething, worrisome notion festering in his head. Also onion, and rotten fish. That hasn't changed, not even diminished. "Oh yeah?" He answers Tython, distracted, vision wound and fixed on that surface still as though focused on some sound from afar. "I thought it's you she meant, that helped her. I guess that, by 'Prince', she did actually mean Noah, didn't she?"
Raimon raises his eyebrows at the mention of Alarissa's promised contributions. "Oh! Is that so? I shall look forward, then, as well! As to the classes, well, I'd gladly teach. And gladly learn. Both in equal measure and due proportion would be perfect. Let's try!" Raimon hopes.
Raimon notes, to Rinel's curious gaze, "It's sealskin. Favored by mariners, as it's waterproof, and nigh every fisherman who sails far north has a pair of boots as such. Would you like one? Ever been far out to Sea, as yet?" Raimon asks, politely curious.
Samira's dark-eyed gaze tracks Gael's hasty retreat, a brief furrow appearing between her brows. She crosses her arms over her chest as though attempting to warm her scrawny frame, and turns back to Rinel. The answer serves to distract properly and seems to please the artist. "Where's your shop? I'll have to visit sometime. I'd very much like to see what sort of things you create sometime." Her gaze flits to Raja and Raimon as she eavesdrops on snippets of their conversation. A casual upnod is offered to the prince, no difference in greeting between the one she offers her fellow Lowers residents. "Classes. That's a great idea. Ought to be interesting to see what sort of things people are interested in teaching."
Raja cants her head. "Maybe I could teach a class on intimidation. How to be scary so people leave you alone 101." She laughs. "I tell you, it has saved me a time or two! One time I was sick as could be. I probably couldn't even fight my way out of a blanket. But, I know the power of body language and how to make folk think twice before messing with me. It's really a good skill to have. What would you teach?"
Rinel beams. "Sealskin! Brilliant! An unfortunate reality of growing up in the Telmarch. My knowledge of aquatic fauna is terribly lacking. As to sea-travel, well... I have made two journeys. One to Mardomum, and the other to the Isle of Storms. Though I think the Isle hardly counts, as I suspect the elements were guiding us there." She considers briefly. "Or, well. The others. I was a tagalong, which made Air accepting me as a nascent druid all the more surprising." She peers closer at Raimon's coat. "Sealskin. Fascinating."
"Wouldn't know much 'bout't, why don't ye ask'er yerself?" Asks Tython with a smile. "Or were ye jus' pickin' somethin' random-like fer conversin'?" He asks, and takes a swig of his flask.
Raimon grins. "Aye, the Isle of Storms has a mind of its own, at least the winds and the currents near there do. I'll have a pair of sealskin boots made, and delivered to you as soon as is possible. That way you'll be well prepared for your next trip!" Raimon grins.
Raimon says in Marin'alfar, "I'd love to hear of your experience of Mardomum sometime as well.""
Raimon hears Tython's voice in the mix, and turns to wave, holding up carved wooded rose happily, pointing to it and nodding.
Raja cants her head at Raimon, clearly confused at what he said.
Rinel checks perception and linguistics at hard. Rinel marginally fails.
Rinel tilts her head as well. "I'm afraid I don't speak that language, Your Highness."
Gael blinks at Tython's answer for a moment, then he scowls once he's parsed sense off of it. The muscles around his jaw tighten rigid under the leathery skin and hair, its scars stretching and shifting, face tipped forward, eyes lost in hard shadow from the light overhead. "I was just curious, right? If you knew anything about that. I'unno -- you two are family, could've been. Truth is, I'm still in awe at how quickly she made this place spring to life."
Tython isn't looking at Gael all that much, but he can still talk without looking fine enough, and he smiles at Raimon brightly when he waves. It turns to a grin and he waves in return. "I'm glad ye like't!" He calls out, apparently forgetting that, doing so in a library isn't a great idea most times. He looks back to Gael again. "Hey I didn' mean no 'fence, I'm jus' lettin' ye know I don't know much bout't, other'n everybody seemed tae' pitch in, little here'n little there, guess it's tha' benifitsa' havin' ah big family, /plus/ Raja'sa' right champion o' her peers." He says, with a sagelike nod, before he takes a swig.
Samira's full attention strays toward Raimon, focus stolen by the sound of an unfamiliar language. A subtle shake of her head suggests she understands not a word, but there's quiet curiosity in the glances she gives all the same.
Raimon explains. "Aye, that is the language of those who built and lived in Mardomum. And, as such, I'd love to hear the tale of your voyage there, when you've got the time and inclination." Raimon offers, "I fain could teach survival skills. And perhaps I could also read fairy tales and myths for folks. Entertainment and education both?"
Rinel says, "Ah, marin'alfar. They're fascinating, truly. I'd be very happy to speak to you of the voyage at your leisure."
Raja beams a smile at Raimon, "Maybe you two could host an event telling about this place and that language.." She is about to go on, but suddenly looks rather uncomfortable as if a pain just struck her. It passes and she moves to stand up, "I should get going, but you all feel free to stay and enjoy each other's company! And mind your manners! Rinel has my permission to bonk you with her cane if you misbehave." She beams a smile at Rinel. Then she proceeds to trundle to the door, rubbing at her midsection.
The way Gael sits--still but not quite relaxed. Ready. Patient. The way his eyes move--cunning, careful, occasionally viewing Tython and relaxing, both thankful that the Culler's indeed not staring back, thus hopefully unaware of this mild state of alarm. But they're watching, these dark eyes, thoughtful. Weighting him and his answer. "I'm not offended, man," Gael blandly assures him, followed by a noncommittal shrug of shoulders. "Haven't talked to her in a while, been busy. How've you been, anyway?"
Back to list