Completed [The Quill's Rest] The License to Revere

[Philomena]

She looks up at the boy, and her mind frowns in at itself, the faint echoes of her previous response haunting her, //sympathy, sympathy, sympathy. This boy is lonely and stuck without any real place or position, here, and has far enough troubles of his own, if he's coming to me of all people for company.//

And, so she pulls out a thin smile, and swallows down her brooding thoughts, "No, no, its nothing child. Old women, we are moody things, you know, that's all," then clicks her brain quickly through what she thinks she OUGHT to be talking about, "Indeed. A antidotist? Short of the herbalists and alchemists, I can't say I've ever met one before now. Where does one seek a position as such? Is it an art of private practice? Or do you seek out a patron? In the bad old days, of course, the antidotist would have just been, you know, a secondary duty of the poisoner, non?"

[Lock Cicuta]

Lock's face flickered at the elderly woman's mention of his poison. "Yes, yes, disturbing isn't it? I am in fact employed at the University, in the infirmary." He leaned forward slightly and smiled, "It is amusing that we haven't bumped into each other at the University. What wing do you teach from?" The slender man settled back into his seat. "If anything ever ails you just drop by we can take care of it." Lock's smile widened.

[Philomena]

She frowned, "The infirmary? Really? Who is your master, there? I am surprised I would not have seen you. I'm in the West Wing, of course, but my office is not so far from the infirmary, and I've acquaintances there. You are regularly employed there? Where did you take instruction? I know that such things are taught, but only as a part of herbalism and philtering, I should have thought, not as a separate field of study. Though, the gods know I've no head for healing arts, so perhaps I just had things mixed up, I suppose."

She sipped her tea again. She rolls it around thoughtfully, absently on her tongue, looking at the boy with a little softness in her eyes. Her hand flitted thoughtfully again with the neckline of her dress, as absent as a tic.

[Lock Cicuta]

The hags hand fluttered at her dress again, tugging at her neckline. Really? Old woman, no amount of fidgeting will make you any prettier. However, Lock smiled pleasantly . He had reason to do so, the woman was beginning to open up. Her questions were even easy to answer, all he had to do was tell the truth. "I learned my arts from my mother, after she passed I honed them in Alvadas. I am no expert but it is enough to get by." He drained the dregs of his cup and pushed it to the side, the plainly coloured china waiting to be collected. "She was a specialist, and she wanted me to carry on the tradition." Lock gazed into the ladies eyes with faux ernesty, "What kind of background do you come from?"

[Philomena]

//What kind of background?// Her suspicion, dormant until now, flickered, just mildly underneath her consciousness, and she stared silently at the boy for just a beat too long for politic comfort. //What does he mean, asking me that?//

"Background, child? If you mean my family, then I haven't one. But perhaps I misunderstand your question." The floridity of her speech, its wandering quality is dissolving, slowly, not into coldness, yet, but perhaps into a mild, self-preservational reserve.

She does not sip at the tea now, her hand instead taking it up absently, and tilting the cup, making the dregs of green-brown liquid swirl around the porcelain in slow spirals. She meets the boys eyes again, defensive, and perhaps just a touch imploring - to ask? Not to ask? It is difficult to say which.

[Lock Cicuta]

Infernal woman, so supicious. She picks up on every misspeaking and slipped word. To her face he only looked sympathetic, though not overly so. Even if Lock wanted to look woeful she had worn too toughly on his nerves. "Of course I mean your family, what else could I be speaking of?" Lock reached out a hand and brushed away a crumb that hadn't been cleaned from the table. Filthy little tea shop. I have to risk it, I have the djed to spare, as long as I am careful. Lock turned inwardly again pulling on the potential energy infusing him. The soft sizzle of power rippled through his eyes and mouth. He put on an expression of concern. "I didn't mean to be forward. I know what it is like to be without family. If I have touched on a rude topic?" His word heavy with an subliminal message reflected in his worried features. Harmless, harmless, harmless. He let his subtle persuasion sink in before letting go, the sizzle fading. Hopefully this will be enough.

[Philomena]

She raised her eyebrow. //Harmless. Harmless Minnie. He's Harmless. It's alright...// Harmless, but forward. if he did not look so harmless, she would think... well. Not trouble being careful anyway. She sat back in a quiet show of reserve, and sipped her tea, slowly before answering.

She set the cup down, so slowly that it hardly plinked against the saucer, and closed and opened her eyes, looking the boy in the eyes.

"Well, child, I haven't one, and never did."

//Let him chew on that for a bit. See if he goes inspid or disdainful. They all go one or the other. This is suddenly growing tedious.//

[Lock Cicuta]

Lock remembered the old woman's aversion to silver-tongued talk, I need to avoid being overly sympathetic must I? Very well. He nodded gently, "We all have our challenges in life yes? The hope is we make it through." His dark eyes glanced up, "Though it seems that we have something in common, eh? Let us not dwell on our problems though. We have managed to have an interesting, if rather...bumpy conversation." The guarded look in the professor's eyes spoke of the conversation coming to a close. "It is my sincere hope I see you soon." The thread had been cast, aware of it or not the woman had become a strand in the web of Lock Cicuta. Her connection might be tenuous thread for now, but the city of Zeltiva, large as it was, wouldn't hide her from Lock. One way or another, she would become his tool, his stepping stone. Slowly pushing out his chair and dropping some money from a pocket for the drinks Lock began to stand, "Unfortunately I have concoctions to brew and sleep to catch, despite how much I have enjoyed our whiling away of time." Lock stretched and grabbed his cloak, before whipping into a bow. "This is the bell fit for good byes, and so I wish you," he glanced up, "Professor."

[Philomena]

Teh woman frowned, her brow quirking, but nodded. //Perhaps// she thought, //I am too impatient with these children. He is strange he is abrupt, but then, who am I to blame others for that? I'm a bloody ape in situations like this.//

She half stood in her chair, and slowly, deliberately, reformed her face into something like a smile - a cautious one to be sure, but perhaps with a note of apology to it, "Yes, yes, I've kept you, Mr. Cicuta. I ... apologize, I am awkward with new faces, perhaps. I shall watch for you around the university, perhaps we will meet again?"

[Lock Cicuta]

"Best wishes. I am most certain we will meet again." Lock was pleased, she had been a struggle but she had come round at the end, at least part way. "Hopefully it will not be long, you an interesting conversational partner to say the least." Lock whipped on his cloak, fastening it at the throat. "Of into the chill, good bye Professor." Would it come of too cocky or would it be intriguing? Lock gave her a single quick wink before turning on heel. Had anyone be able to see around him they would have seen a terrifying sight, all warmth and humanity fell from his face; leaving something flinty, hard and cold behind. An icy smile crept on his face as Lock stepped out into a winter's chill as cold as his heart.