milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

morwen,
telemain

(no subject)

Walking into the bar, his hands busy tucking something that looks like it might be a bright green tuning fork into the pocket of a long blue vest. Telemain wipes his slightly grimy hands on a suddenly convenient handkerchief before glancing up.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise before his memory is officially jogged, and then a small smile forms. The handkerchief gets tucked away, and he straightens the collar of his shirt and then starts rolling down the sleeves, which he'd previously had tucked up around his elbows.

He knows this place.

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"Is it safe to ask what you were working on this time?"
For Morwen, it probably is. But who knows if anyone else (typists included) will actually understand it.

"Morwen, you know me quite well, I imagine," he sighs, collapsing into a seat.

"So no doubt you will understand the implications when I say that examining this one of a kind creation was almost not worth the effort it took to deal with the woman who owned it."

He flags down a waitrat.

"A chandelier. Have you ever had the misfortune to visit the kindom near my home?"

"I can't say that I have, no. It was that bad?"

"Insufferable."

He gestures, the scowls and closes the button on the edge of his sleeve, which he'd forgotten and left open.

"They have a crystal structure that emits light and sound, tuned to the energy of the people who walk beneath it. Colours and noises, a rather fascinating geological occurence, the properties of which would be fascinating to study. However, the point is that it came untuned, and I was contracted to lend my aid. The woman insisted on leaning over my shoulder and hanging around at the base of the ladder and shrilling directly into my ear canal."

"...Oh dear."
Some people just shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a repair site.

"I almost explained that the fact that the crystals turned an unnatractive shade of mud while she was around was no accident."

A dour expression. But he's not that rude.

Even if he wants to be sometimes.

"Perhaps you should have. It might have done her some good." Or at least caused an interesting facial expression.

"If I need to retune, I shall beg you in as a 'consult.'"

The image of Morwen meeting Andromeda... he smiles, slightly.

"May I order you a drink?"

"I might have to leave the cats at home for that one." She'd likely come up with enough snark on her own.
And at the offer, Morwen smiles. "If you'd like."

"Something other than cider?"

He arches an eyebrow.

"--it might be fascinating to see if the crystals registered the creatures."

"Surprise me. And it might well be, but would we really need all the extra commentary?"
Never mind that Telemain wouldn't be able to understand it.

"I'll weigh the benefits."

He places an order for two glasses of wine- it's a fine evening, and he survived an afternoon standing on a ladder with a woman shouting up at him. Cause for celebration.

"You do that. Just remember who gets to listen to them."
Wine is certainly a surprise, but he's certainly got cause for celebration, so she doesn't comment.

(OOC: And now, dinner. I'll be back later, though; slowtime?)

"I'll remember."

He raises his glass in a toast to nothing in particular, then takes a sip.

"All of them are well, I trust?"

"They are. Some of the younger ones are actually looking forward to the possibility of you visiting."
The ones who remember Telemain... are more resigned to the fact that it'll happen sooner or later. But that's cats for you.

The eyebrow goes up again.

"...my company? How gratifying."

"I think they want to see for themselves what all the fus is about, rather than taking anyone else's word for it."

He laughs, and shakes his head ruefully.

"Oh dear. I'm notorious. Has anything interesting come your way, recently? I'm almost jealous of those of you who live in the forest."

"Nothing particularly unusual, no. Just the occasional plant or rock that turns out to be enchanted royalty and gnomes stealing the stair supports. Haven't even had any wizards to melt, lately."
...Wait, did Telemain know wizards melt? Oh well, he does now. At least he seems well-rested enough to take the news.
Morwen finally gets around to trying the wine. It's not half bad.

"Wizards melt?"

He leans forwards, wine suddenly forgotten.

"I've heard the adage about witches, but given the state of your home never put stock in it."

Morwen raises an eyebrow. "I am hardly going to melt in a bucket of soapsuds. Wizards, however, are disreputable enough that the logical leap works, when you think about it. I'm still not sure what the lemon has to do with it, but..." She shrugs. "Accidental discovery. One of Cimorene's friends found it out about a year ago. Not permanent, unfortunately, but it does slow them down for a while."
She'll take what she can get.

"...I beg your pardon? Soap suds?"

He passes a hand over his eyes, and tries not to grin.

"How... appropriate?"

Morwen isn't bothering to resist a grin.
"It only gets rid of them for about two days - I think up to four, if you get the staff away and hide it. As far as I know, the best way to be rid of them for good is still to get a dragon to eat them."

"You wouldn't happen to have any of these staffs?"

She probably knows what that not-quite-innocent tone means.

"No, Telemain. The point is to hide the things somewhere where the wizards won't show up and immediately siphon all the magic out of your house."
And he definitely knows what the Look means. Really, if she didn't like the man...

"Well, I wouldn't have to study it at my house."

Obviously.

"Although I'd need a few supplies, of course."

"...That spirit of scientific investigation is going to get you in real trouble one of these days. I'm certainly not going to keep one of the thing s around my own house, let alone bring one in here. Have you seen how much ambient magic is about the place?"
From what Morwen's seen, a staff's separation from its wizard doesn't always stop it soaking up magic. And in a place like the bar... well, it might bring the outside inside, and that would be Bad.
"Melt one for youself, and then start the staff analysis."

"Well, not here. There are far too many variables. Did you know there are physical magical personifications of concepts here?"

He files the staff idea away for later pursuit.

"Not off the top of my head, no. But I can't say I'm surprised."

"It's enough to make me glad I was dragged back."

A look over his shoulder confirms that the door is still there.

"There certainly ought to be enough here to hold your interest."
Or, you know, possibly too much. But knowing Telemain, he'll get to it all eventually.

"I have experiments I can't simply abandon."

They'd be absolutely ruined.

"No, my time here is limited, at best."

"True enough. But you can't tell me you're not curious about this place."
Not after the way he was analyzing Bar.

"Well, of course."

He smiles.

"How could I not be? But it's very different than our world, and the same laws of magic do not apply. My ability to study is limited at best."

"Oh, but knowing you, one of these days you'll find some way to start comparing things."
One of these days, he'll find out about the magical library... and camp out in it for a week. But Morwen doesn't know of it herself yet, so she won't be the one to tell him.

...oh, fear this.

"Of course I will. Don't think I haven't been trying. There are those who gain magic, those who are magic, those who learn and win."

She will, don't doubt it. Her typist already does.
"If I thought you hadn't been trying, I would be seriously concerned for your well-being."
Not that she isn't half the time anyway, but still.

"Even within those categories, there are cross overs. Magical beings that fight to gain status too."

He shakes his head.

"I'm still working, as I said."

"I expect you'll work something out."

"Yes. I think I'll be off, Morwen."

He climbs to his feet.

"It has been something of a long day."

"Get some rest. I'll see you around, I'm sure."

"Goodnight, then."

A slight bow, and he goes.

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