I'll show you that next. I found a place to start dragging some of those statues. [It does have shelves already, although perhaps in some general disrepair. And this is Allen's place, even if he makes community-centric noises about it, but - a room to put stuff in, at least. Including maybe a chair or two, comfortable ones so Viktor can sit somewhere besides a stool at a workbench sometimes, and Palamedes can gently badger Allen into taking a nap that isn't slumped over the edge of a bed in the infirmary.
You know, basic organizational tasks.]
Waver— [Might have implied his brand of magic is also inherited, sort of? But whatever, Viktor should have wizard lessons if he wants them, that's what's important, and,] He's some kind of professor at a clocktower full of mages, can you imagine? The aesthetic of his world almost sounds like the one on display here. He'll like having a student.
[Ah, and maybe Viktor will finally have to write papers, the possibilities are endless... but: here is the hallway Palamedes has been looking for, as dusty as the rest but more well-lit by a glass ceiling, and he takes them immediately over to the massive tapestry. The moon, the blood red sea, the inky black of the beach, all very dramatic and mysterious even without the embroidered message at the top: 'I am the mother of dreams'.
Palamedes brushes the edge of it with a silk touch; even without understanding the full history he can still be somewhat reverent of it, although - well, he doesn't know how to preserve a thing this large from the ravages of time and light. And, like, weather? God, he has to understand weather now. Horrible.
Anyway,] I've been thinking. The 'mother' has to be the moon, right? I mean, look at the thing.
no subject
You know, basic organizational tasks.]
Waver— [Might have implied his brand of magic is also inherited, sort of? But whatever, Viktor should have wizard lessons if he wants them, that's what's important, and,] He's some kind of professor at a clocktower full of mages, can you imagine? The aesthetic of his world almost sounds like the one on display here. He'll like having a student.
[Ah, and maybe Viktor will finally have to write papers, the possibilities are endless... but: here is the hallway Palamedes has been looking for, as dusty as the rest but more well-lit by a glass ceiling, and he takes them immediately over to the massive tapestry. The moon, the blood red sea, the inky black of the beach, all very dramatic and mysterious even without the embroidered message at the top: 'I am the mother of dreams'.
Palamedes brushes the edge of it with a silk touch; even without understanding the full history he can still be somewhat reverent of it, although - well, he doesn't know how to preserve a thing this large from the ravages of time and light. And, like, weather? God, he has to understand weather now. Horrible.
Anyway,] I've been thinking. The 'mother' has to be the moon, right? I mean, look at the thing.