video;

[virginprice]

[Alcuin is sitting at his console with a thoughtful look on his face. It's been long enough that he's settled in and now he has concerns beyond the absolutely necessary- and the money to take care of them.]

Are there any in the city who have a marquist's skill? The circumstances of my arrival left my marque in need of tending, and I now have the coin to pay for it- if none of those who have been brought here know it, I will look among the kedan, but I thought I would try my fellow exiles to begin with.

[He smiles.] If you know of anyone, pray tell me. I would be grateful indeed.

Comments

[imaginate]

Sounds reasonable. [Since he doesn't actually know what he'd charge. Where was his agent?

He gets up.] Let me just clean this stuff up. Do you mind if I use the sink?

[virginprice]

Oh, no, not at all. I believe it would be very discourteous of me. [He laughs and goes to count out the money, moving carefully. It stings!]

[imaginate]

[He finishes cleaning up, always, fighting the instinct to just use his ring. It's been hard to train himself out of it, but saving power is more important. He's making fewer false moves than he was when he first came here, but still, instinctively, his right arm moves almost as though he's trying to lift the equipment with an invisible hand before he realises his mistake and picks it up instead.

It's hard, having to hide who you are, he reflects internally. But a lot of people would have trouble believing him.

When he's done washing up, he stands near the door, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.]

[virginprice]

[That's a curious tic he has. He has no idea what it can mean- what is he trying to do?- but it doesn't escape Alcuin's observation. What an odd fellow, but an undeniably talented marquist. He holds out the money in a pouch he picked up somewhere, since Kyle might need something to carry it in.]

Thank you so much for your assistance, Kyle. I hope we'll meet again.

[imaginate]

[Nothing brings him joy more than seeing others pleased with his work. He accepts the pouch and pockets it.] No worries. Just glad to help.

[virginprice]

Well, I'm afraid I must hope that your help is not required in such a capacity in future... [He'd rather not die again. That would be great.]

[imaginate]

Well, there's that. [A brief pause as he considers asking, and then, oh what the heck. Alcuin's been pleasant so far.] Battle wound?

[virginprice]

[His hand goes to his stomach, where the entry point was.] Yes... my guardian and I were attacked in our home.

[imaginate]

[He doesn't squirm or flinch. He's seen worse. He's had worse. His voice takes on a calmness that seems completely out of place for a gentle artist.] So... you were dead when you came here.

[virginprice]

Yes. [He's made no secret of it, it would be foolish to start now. It is still not the most pleasant thing to admit.] And so is he, though he did not arrive at the same place, it seems.

[imaginate]

[He's quiet. This isn't like comforting another Lantern when their loved ones passes. There is no mutual understanding of grief.

He says the best thing he can.] Sorry.

[virginprice]

Thank you. [He smiles sadly.] You have helped me preserve a remembrance of him. I am truly grateful for that.

[imaginate]

I'm honoured. [Deep breath.] If it's okay with you, I think I'll go now.

[virginprice]

Of course. Thank you for coming. [He smiles, the sadness gone- or at least hidden again.]