rememberettersberg: (sartorial excellence)
[personal profile] rememberettersberg
A new notice has appeared on the welcome table and at several well-traversed locations around the mansion and its grounds. It invites residents to stop by a certain summer house (which has recently sprung into existence on the shore of the lake) if they are interested in the discussion and/or instruction of magic.

Should anyone's curiosity take them in that direction, they'll find Nightingale there with a pot of tea always on the go and a rotating selection of snacks and nibbles. He's started to cultivate (heh) a small library of his own - important texts in the history of his magical tradition, textbooks for the study of a number of dead/archaic languages, and a growing pile of his own notes.

He'll be delighted to catalogue the differences (and similarities) in the way various worlds practice magic, conduct experiments to see if they can use each other's traditions, and (in the case of Laertes and anyone else that seems like they might be a fit candidate) begin some basic magical instruction.

Closed.

Date: 2023-11-06 08:40 pm (UTC)
lightbearinglord: (all in white)
From: [personal profile] lightbearinglord
Lan Wangji, curious on several levels, hovers quietly for a moment in the doorway of the summer house in question. He has not encountered Nightingale in some time; several things have changed since then. He recognized, he believes, some kind of kindred spirit in the man.

Once he has decided to make his presence known, he steps inside and makes a polite bow to announce himself.

Date: 2023-11-06 09:52 pm (UTC)
lightbearinglord: (changyang)
From: [personal profile] lightbearinglord
The typewriter, in its immediate foreignness, is the first thing to draw Lan Wangji's attention, a quick and sharp glance. He is too polite to mention it, however, and takes the offered seat. He will also never refuse tea, and flicks his sleeves back neatly to pour one cup for each of them.

"I've intended to ask how you would prefer that I address you," he says as he watches the steam rising.

Date: 2023-11-06 10:52 pm (UTC)
lightbearinglord: (dubious)
From: [personal profile] lightbearinglord
Observant, Lan Wangji watches as Nightingale adds things to his tea. He frowns passingly but copies what he does. The tea does not smell the way he expected it to, but perhaps it would have been more surprising if it had.

In answer to both the explanation and the question, Lan Wangji hesitates. "Nightingale," he repeats, reluctant to use no title but equally reluctant to disregard Nightingale's preference. "Most address me as Hanguang-jun, if they are not close enough to use my name. Before I earned that title, I was typically introduced as the second young master Lan."
Edited Date: 2023-11-06 10:53 pm (UTC)

Date: 2023-11-07 10:21 am (UTC)
lightbearinglord: (hanguang-jun)
From: [personal profile] lightbearinglord
Before answering, Lan Wangji takes one careful sip of his tea. His face betrays nothing, but he sets it down and, with some unexpressed gratitude, does indeed pour himself a fresh cup with no milk or sugar.

The matter of his title is more difficult. The meaning is, to him, evident. He repeats it but with a careful pause between each character, hoping whatever force the mansion employs will understand his intent: "Light-bearing lord."

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Date: 2023-11-07 01:34 pm (UTC)
timebethine: A greyscale picture of a white man with curly brown hair; his collar is askew in the wind. He has a serious expression. (Default)
From: [personal profile] timebethine
Laertes comes to the summer house with a smile on his lips and a dictionary of Latin under one arm. The prospect of learning magic fills him with a pleasant buzz of anticipation; he shifts from foot to foot after he's knocked, already eager to begin.

Date: 2023-11-07 04:20 pm (UTC)
timebethine: A picture of a white man with curly hair, looking down and away. He is wearing a suit and tie. (Quiet)
From: [personal profile] timebethine
"Most heartily, and returned it in kind," says Laertes, holding out his hand to show a ring of gold with angled bands crossing and recrossing. It's still new, the weight of it on his finger; it still makes his eyes go soft to acknowledge it. "My thanks for the gift of your skill, then and hereafter. I hope I'll repay your teaching well."

Date: 2023-11-07 05:33 pm (UTC)
timebethine: A picture of a white man with curly hair, looking down and away. He is wearing a suit and tie. (Quiet)
From: [personal profile] timebethine
"Of course." Laertes schools his expression to gravity, standing straight and attentive.

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Date: 2023-11-07 08:16 pm (UTC)
onthewillowsthere: (in prayer)
From: [personal profile] onthewillowsthere
Galahad isn't looking for Nightingale on purpose -- he's just wandering by the lakeside, with a book about Welsh flora, looking to see whether he recognizes any of the plants growing by the water's edge. There are tall phragmites turning to fluff, which he trails his hands through, and celandine down in the mud, and pickerelweed, which he's never seen before.

When he sees the summer house, and recognizes that it's new, he comes to the door and looks in curiously. Although he's nowhere near as miserable as he has been, he still gives a faint sense that he's haunting a place, dressed in white and pale as a ghost at the window

Date: 2023-11-07 10:17 pm (UTC)
onthewillowsthere: (contemplation)
From: [personal profile] onthewillowsthere
"Galahad," he says, after a slight pause. "Galahad again."

Date: 2023-11-08 04:42 pm (UTC)
onthewillowsthere: (contemplation)
From: [personal profile] onthewillowsthere
"I think so," as he steps inside, glancing around, his serious eyes taking in everything interesting, the books and the notes and the snacks all scattered about.

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Date: 2023-11-17 09:10 pm (UTC)
sagramore: (knight errant)
From: [personal profile] sagramore
Sagramore is still sober, and he's still not enjoying it very much, but he has an errand. He stops by the summer house, rapping lightly at the door before he enters.

"Nightingale?"

Date: 2023-11-17 10:56 pm (UTC)
sagramore: (knight errant)
From: [personal profile] sagramore
"No, no, thank you. I apologize -- I've come to ask you a favor, actually."

Date: 2023-11-18 01:36 pm (UTC)
sagramore: (wintery)
From: [personal profile] sagramore
"There's a man here who is a magician, like you. He has a great deal of power, I want to be upfront about that so you know. I don't know whether he's dangerous, though I know I was in no danger from him."

Sagramore is trying not to pace, but the urge is there -- he's restless, anxious, in spite of how certain he is of his purpose. He wishes, for approximately the thousandth time today, that he had a drink.

"He was my lover. I still love him, Christ, I love him tremendously, but he told me something about himself that I can't overlook, as much as I want to. I left him. But the thing is -- he's so guarded. He shields himself against other people. I don't think he'd let anyone know him before me, not for centuries, and certainly not love him. I don't know whether he even has friends here, but I don't think so. And I'm worried about him. I-- Christ, I hurt him but I'm afraid for him to be hurt--" He rakes his hands back through the mess of curls that's become shaggy and started to fall into his eyes at times. "I want to ask you to look in on him. I just want to know he's-- I love him. I want someone to care whether he's all right. And because you're a magician, I think he's less of a danger to you, if he's a danger to anyone any more. I trust you."

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DCI Thomas Nightingale

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