Administrative building – Nessa and NPC Quintus de Scardena
Quintus de Scardena’s office was on the upper floor of the administrative building. It was a large and somewhat cluttered office with rows of shelves occupying an entire wall of the room. The content of the shelves was as eccentric as the holder of the office: books and scrolls shared shelf space with tins filled with various teas and spices. Bottles of various coloured inks sprawled across a shelf along with quills, parchment, wax tablets and styli. A pair of comfortable armchairs were arranged around a low table made of black lebethron wood. A massive desk made of the same material was situated near the window and chairs with two armchairs for visitors in front of it. Another, rather more impressive chair was located behind the desk.
The office faced the gardens of the Houses of Healing and the tall, lean senior administrator could frequently be seen standing by the windows. Usually deep in thought, searching for a solution for a problem that troubled him. He firmly believed that gazing and admiring the beauty and splendour of the gardens helped him with his work. Quintus de Scardena was known for his unorthodox and unusual ways, perhaps that was one of the reasons he was promoted to the post of the senior administrator.
However, today the administrator was not to be found musing by the window. He was sitting in his impressive chair concentrating on the content of the ledgers and papyri scrolls that covered almost the entire surface of the desk. His stormy grey eyes followed the words on the pages and from time to time he would carefully dip his quill in the ink bottle filled with blue-black registrar’s ink and make neat notes in an elegant shorthand.
His former apprentice sat in a very unladylike position, one leg tucked under the other, in a comfortable armchair on the other side of the room. A delicate porcelain teacup, with matching saucer, half-filled with tea stood on the low table next to her. She was rereading a long text, written on several sheets of paper, her lips moving as she quietly spoke the words written in her mentor’s familiar handwriting. Occasionally, she would tilt her head this way and that as she read something while twirling a ringlet of her chocolate-coloured hair that escaped the fishtail braid… Almost like she was testing how a sentence sounded. When she was not satisfied with a turn of a phrase, she would put the manuscript on the low table and reach out for the quill and red ink to mark it or cross it out completely.
She finished rereading the third revision of the proposal letter for the Queen her mentor had written and the red ink interventions were minimal. Putting the manuscript down on the low table, she straightened in the armchair, unfolded her limbs and stretched a bit. Nessa felt herself relax slightly as she reached for the porcelain teacup and slowly drank the rest of the lukewarm tea. She felt quite satisfied with the editorial work she had done and proud of her mentor who worked tirelessly on this project. She looked over to him, noticing that he was still sitting behind his desk, reviewing documents and making notes.
Nessa finished her tea and reunited the teacup with the saucer. She stood up and made a valiant effort to straighten the creases on her dim grey dress; it was not entirely a fruitless endeavour. Smiling slightly she closed the ink bottle and returned it and the quill she used to its place on the shelves it occupied. Returning she reached out and picked up the manuscript and walked over to her mentor’s desk.
“I finished revising your manuscript,” she told Quintus who looked up from his work when she started speaking. “Where should I put this? Your desk is rather cluttered, senior administrator,” she commented with a smile.
“Ah, thank you, my dear. Put it on that ledger,” he replied gesturing to the accounting book. “Your help with this matter has been invaluable. You have a knack for these things.”
“Thank you, Quintus. You are most kind,” she told him still feeling strange for addressing her former mentor by his first name.
A respectful knock at the door interrupted their conversation and they both turned to it as Quintus called out, giving the visitor permission to enter. They were slightly surprised to see Ralph standing at the threshold, smiling fondly when he saw she was there.
“Forgive the intrusion administrator de Scardena, mistress de Argosy, or is it mistress Ringhûn these days?” Ralph greeted them, making Quintus chuckle slightly.
“Legally I am de Argosy-Ringhûn,” she told the receptionist after a moment, a smiling slightly showing the man that she was not offended, merely confused by the comment. “But I realise my family name is rather unusual and long… Is someone looking for me?”
“Yes, mistress,” the receptionist replied with an amused smile. “A helpless fool who worked himself too hard.”
For a moment she was confused, not fully comprehending what Ralph said… But at the same moment as Quintus started laughing merrily, she realised exactly who was looking for her. A radiant smile lit her face as a wave of emotions overflowed her; boundless love for her husband, joy that he was here, elation that he came to see her… Worry, unwished-for, concern and fear that something happened to her beloved followed soon after. She was aware of Turin’s habit of making light of his injuries, especially when it came to her, for he did not wish her to worry.
“He’s not injured mistress,” the receptionist rushed to reassure her, seeing and recognising her concern for a loved one on her face. “Slightly worse for wear, but uninjured.”
“Go see your husband, my dear,” Quintus told her, laughter still in his voice. “Otherwise, I fear you will wear a hole in the rug.”
“Thank you, Quintus,” she told her former mentor with a small smile, her cheeks flushed. “And thank you, Ralph,” she turned to the receptions who nodded and gave her a kind smile. “For coming here, in person, to let me know. Thank you, you are very kind. I’ll take my leave of you both,” she finished, nodding to both men who smiled at her fondly. She exited Quintus’ office and hurried to the reception to see her husband.
Reception – Nessa with @Turin Ringhûn
Nessa was flushed and slightly out of breath when she arrived at the reception, aware that she jogged more than walked in her rush to see Turin. Despite Ralph telling her Turin was uninjured, she could not stop the anxious feeling gnawing at her. He was injured in his last mission with the Rangers, he received a bad blow to the head and still had no memory of what exactly happened. Pele had given explicit orders that he was to rest until he recovered, but she knew her husband. He probably spent the whole morning on the training ground running himself ragged.
She saw him sitting in one of the chairs by the wall, his legs stretched in front of him, the bag with his training equipment next to him. She glanced at him as she walked over (mud-stained trousers and boots, shirt damp with sweat) told her what she already suspected.
“Ignoring orders are you now Ranger?” she said teasingly as she came close. He looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a playful smile on his lips, as he rose from the chair to greet her.
“Just trying to catch the eye of a beautiful healer,” he replied in the same manner, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close to him. Instinctively, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, smiling at his antics. “I cannot get the lady healer out of my mind, she holds my heart,” he said smiling and leaned in for a tender kiss.
She relaxed in his arms, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers, the closeness of him… Laying down her burdens for a moment, as his kiss chased away her fears, his very presence reassuring her that he was here, hale and hearty. They broke away and he leaned his forehead on hers, a soft smile on both of their faces.
“Let me have look at you…” she said quietly, breaking the silence and the comfort of their embrace. She moved her arms from his neck and moved slightly so she could look at him, observe his reactions, to reassure herself that he was alright.
“I am fine, meldanya,” he replied still holding her in his arms. “Nothing is wrong, I simply wished to see you.”
“You wished to see me…” she repeated looking at him and smiled amusedly and sweetly. “You came all the way from the training grounds to the 6th circle, passed our house,” she stressed raising an eyebrow. “Not stopping there to leave your training gear, or freshen up or change your clothes… Simply because you had an urge to see me.”
“Yes,” he told her simply and leaned in for another kiss. She allowed him to capture her lips with his, her arms grasping his shoulders to anchor herself to him. Her whole body softened in his arms, her kiss a prayer of gratitude for the boundless gift of his love. Soon, always too soon, their kiss ended and her husband held her tightly in his arms, his love for her breathless.
“If I’m going to be disobeying orders of light recovery,” he said huskily, his hands moving to her lower back, rubbing small circles that made her shiver with pleasure. “Then I should at least be checked out, and the instruments of my disobedience can be reviewed too,” he said tilting his head toward the bag, with a roughish smile. “You and Pele will be most pleased to know I did refrain from actual weapon training.”
Her hands were still on his shoulders, so she used them to support herself as she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Good,” she said her hands moving from his shoulders and searching his. “Come, I’ll have a look at you in the treatment room,” she said firmly, not giving him wiggle room. “If nothing else you can wash up and I’ll try to find you a clean tunic.”
OOC: ((Apologies for the double post, this scene just didn't fit thematically with the other writing, so I made an editorial decision to post it separately.))
Wyrdwritere. She/her. I contain multitudes.