Elisabeth Scrivener (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbybooklice) wrote2019-08-30 01:01 pm
raisedbybooklice) wrote2019-08-30 01:01 pm
Great Library of Summershall, Austermeer
...So, Elisabeth was in trouble.
"Let me get this straight." Warden Finch's tone was icy. "Not only did you sneak into an area forbidden to apprentices, you did so while a magister was present. You stupid girl! Do you have any idea what he could have done to you for your audacity?"
Elisabeth gulped and nodded. The magister had been very clear on what he might have done.
"So you can speak. You'd just rather not speak to me?" He lifted an eyebrow when she nodded. "A wise precaution. We sorcerers are terribly wicked after all. Prowling the wilds, stealing away maidens for our unholy rituals..."
Indeed, she was very lucky that the magister had seemed far more amused by her than angry. And that Warden Finch didn't know the half of what she'd gotten up to in the reading room. He was mad enough to switch her now; he found out the rest and he'd probably cane her within an inch of her life. The welts would last for days.
Not only had she spoken to the magister several times, she'd touched him, too. And she didn't think that Warden Finch would find the explanation of 'Science!' an acceptable one. 'I was just checking to see if he had pointed ears!' was probably even worse.
She hadn't forgotten her mission for Katrien. When he pulled her up, she pretended to stumble, and landed with her fingers buried in his back-and-silver hair.
And possibly the greatest betrayal of all, the one that might bar her from joining the wardens forever and would turn Finch's face a red darker than the jam from the Strawberry Jam Incident...when she'd seen his magic, a swirling emerald light that had picked up the fallen bookcase and set it all to rights, she hadn't been afraid or horrified or disgusted. No, she'd been awed. It had been beautiful.
Fortunately, before she could say anything that might get her in trouble further, the Director strode in. She was a remote, elegant woman with ice-pale features and hair red as flame. A scar ran from her left temple all the way to her jaw, puckering her cheek and pulling one corner of her mouth permanently to the side. Demonslayer, the famous blade the Director had wielded to battle a Malefict when she was only nineteen, hung at her side.
Elisabeth immediately straightened, barely noticing Master Hargrove following the Director's entrance. Her palms dampened and her heart sped up. Warden Finch and his cane were one thing. Bruises faded. But to have drawn the Director's notice with this? She could feel her stomach sinking down into her boots.
Elisabeth's only aspiration in the world was to become a great and powerful warden, just like the Director. Then she could show everyone that she belonged at Summershall, would make even Warden Finch acknowledge her right to stay forever. Looking at the Director's stern expression and Master Hargrove's sorrowful one, she had a dreadful premonition of what was to come.
"Please, Director, I didn't mean--" she started.
"Scrivener," the Director said softly and Elisabeth promptly shut up. "I've been doing some thinking. I believe that we may have done you a disservice. A Great Library is hardly a place for children."
Normally, Elisabeth would never dream of interrupting the Director, but on this matter alone she could't help herself. "No, please, I belong--"
The Director raised a hand for silence. "You do," she said, with more gentleness in her voice than Elisabeth had ever heard from her. "This is not the first time the subject of you remaining within these walls has been brought up and each time, I have said that the only reason you survived your childhood here is because the library wished it so, and that your bond with this place was better left intact, for good or for ill. And I have not changed my mind." For a moment, Elisabeth was filled with wild hope. "But I do believe now that it is time you left our walls."
Elisabeth stared at her, shocked and wounded. "You...want me to go...to an orphanage?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. In her mind's eye, such a place would resemble a prison, gray and shrouded in damp mists, barred by a portcullis like the entrance to the library's vault. Terror squeezed her throat at the image. Sending her away would be like placing a grimoire among inanimate books that didn't move or speak.
The first time she'd seen a book like that, she'd thought it was dead.
For the first time ever in Elisabeth's memory, the Director looked amused. The unscarred half of her mouth kicked up in a small smile. "At your age? Hardly. No, Scrivener, I'm sending you to school."
"...School?" She and Warden Finch spoke at the same time. Elisabeth sounded confused; the Warden, outraged. "Like the Collegium?" Well! That wouldn't be that bad. That was her plan anyway, in two years hence. Head to the Collegium, learn to be a Warden, return to Summershall...
"Not the Collegium, you're too young yet," the Director said, dashing her hopes once again. This whole business of raising and lowering them was exhausting. "But I know it's your wish to go once you are of age. And, frankly, the idea of sending you by yourself to the Capital is exhausting. I can only imagine what trouble you would cause there." She fixed Elisabeth with a stony look, her amusement gone as if it had never been. "Just last month there was the disaster with the refrectory's chandelier - at least old Mistress Bellwether's nose looks mostly normal now. And the time you spilled strawberry jam all over - " Finch made a noise like a teakettle about to boil over "Well. Best not to dwell on that memory."
"The time you released an entire crate of live booklice in my bedchambers," Master Hargrove chimed in.
Elisabeth tried not to scowl at him. She'd been eight at the time. And the'd collected those booklice with the intention of studying them, not setting them free. Their loss had come as a tremendous blow to her research.
"You need to spend sometime outside of the Great Library," the Director continued firmly, bringing Elisabeth's attention back to her. "Some time where you can have a measure of independence, get used to living outside the library - before you're shipped off to the Collegium. Let us see if you can walk before we set you to running."
"But Director--"
"My mind is made up," the Director said, essentially declaring the meeting over. "You are excused to your room to pack your things and say goodbye to Quillworthy. A coach will come for you tomorrow at dawn."
"Please, ma'am," Elisabeth said, rising to her feet. "But where is this school that I am to go to?"
"An island," the Director explained. "Fandom Island. But chin up, Scrivener. There's a library there, too."
[Content warning for the threat of corporal punishment. NFB for pre-Fandom shenanigans! Some bits and pieces stolen and cobbled together from Sorcery of Thorns, by Margaret Rogerson. Elisabeth won't be at the picnic (sorry new roomie!), it's the start of larp season.]
"Let me get this straight." Warden Finch's tone was icy. "Not only did you sneak into an area forbidden to apprentices, you did so while a magister was present. You stupid girl! Do you have any idea what he could have done to you for your audacity?"
Elisabeth gulped and nodded. The magister had been very clear on what he might have done.
"So you can speak. You'd just rather not speak to me?" He lifted an eyebrow when she nodded. "A wise precaution. We sorcerers are terribly wicked after all. Prowling the wilds, stealing away maidens for our unholy rituals..."
Indeed, she was very lucky that the magister had seemed far more amused by her than angry. And that Warden Finch didn't know the half of what she'd gotten up to in the reading room. He was mad enough to switch her now; he found out the rest and he'd probably cane her within an inch of her life. The welts would last for days.
Not only had she spoken to the magister several times, she'd touched him, too. And she didn't think that Warden Finch would find the explanation of 'Science!' an acceptable one. 'I was just checking to see if he had pointed ears!' was probably even worse.
She hadn't forgotten her mission for Katrien. When he pulled her up, she pretended to stumble, and landed with her fingers buried in his back-and-silver hair.
And possibly the greatest betrayal of all, the one that might bar her from joining the wardens forever and would turn Finch's face a red darker than the jam from the Strawberry Jam Incident...when she'd seen his magic, a swirling emerald light that had picked up the fallen bookcase and set it all to rights, she hadn't been afraid or horrified or disgusted. No, she'd been awed. It had been beautiful.
Fortunately, before she could say anything that might get her in trouble further, the Director strode in. She was a remote, elegant woman with ice-pale features and hair red as flame. A scar ran from her left temple all the way to her jaw, puckering her cheek and pulling one corner of her mouth permanently to the side. Demonslayer, the famous blade the Director had wielded to battle a Malefict when she was only nineteen, hung at her side.
Elisabeth immediately straightened, barely noticing Master Hargrove following the Director's entrance. Her palms dampened and her heart sped up. Warden Finch and his cane were one thing. Bruises faded. But to have drawn the Director's notice with this? She could feel her stomach sinking down into her boots.
Elisabeth's only aspiration in the world was to become a great and powerful warden, just like the Director. Then she could show everyone that she belonged at Summershall, would make even Warden Finch acknowledge her right to stay forever. Looking at the Director's stern expression and Master Hargrove's sorrowful one, she had a dreadful premonition of what was to come.
"Please, Director, I didn't mean--" she started.
"Scrivener," the Director said softly and Elisabeth promptly shut up. "I've been doing some thinking. I believe that we may have done you a disservice. A Great Library is hardly a place for children."
Normally, Elisabeth would never dream of interrupting the Director, but on this matter alone she could't help herself. "No, please, I belong--"
The Director raised a hand for silence. "You do," she said, with more gentleness in her voice than Elisabeth had ever heard from her. "This is not the first time the subject of you remaining within these walls has been brought up and each time, I have said that the only reason you survived your childhood here is because the library wished it so, and that your bond with this place was better left intact, for good or for ill. And I have not changed my mind." For a moment, Elisabeth was filled with wild hope. "But I do believe now that it is time you left our walls."
Elisabeth stared at her, shocked and wounded. "You...want me to go...to an orphanage?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. In her mind's eye, such a place would resemble a prison, gray and shrouded in damp mists, barred by a portcullis like the entrance to the library's vault. Terror squeezed her throat at the image. Sending her away would be like placing a grimoire among inanimate books that didn't move or speak.
The first time she'd seen a book like that, she'd thought it was dead.
For the first time ever in Elisabeth's memory, the Director looked amused. The unscarred half of her mouth kicked up in a small smile. "At your age? Hardly. No, Scrivener, I'm sending you to school."
"...School?" She and Warden Finch spoke at the same time. Elisabeth sounded confused; the Warden, outraged. "Like the Collegium?" Well! That wouldn't be that bad. That was her plan anyway, in two years hence. Head to the Collegium, learn to be a Warden, return to Summershall...
"Not the Collegium, you're too young yet," the Director said, dashing her hopes once again. This whole business of raising and lowering them was exhausting. "But I know it's your wish to go once you are of age. And, frankly, the idea of sending you by yourself to the Capital is exhausting. I can only imagine what trouble you would cause there." She fixed Elisabeth with a stony look, her amusement gone as if it had never been. "Just last month there was the disaster with the refrectory's chandelier - at least old Mistress Bellwether's nose looks mostly normal now. And the time you spilled strawberry jam all over - " Finch made a noise like a teakettle about to boil over "Well. Best not to dwell on that memory."
"The time you released an entire crate of live booklice in my bedchambers," Master Hargrove chimed in.
Elisabeth tried not to scowl at him. She'd been eight at the time. And the'd collected those booklice with the intention of studying them, not setting them free. Their loss had come as a tremendous blow to her research.
"You need to spend sometime outside of the Great Library," the Director continued firmly, bringing Elisabeth's attention back to her. "Some time where you can have a measure of independence, get used to living outside the library - before you're shipped off to the Collegium. Let us see if you can walk before we set you to running."
"But Director--"
"My mind is made up," the Director said, essentially declaring the meeting over. "You are excused to your room to pack your things and say goodbye to Quillworthy. A coach will come for you tomorrow at dawn."
"Please, ma'am," Elisabeth said, rising to her feet. "But where is this school that I am to go to?"
"An island," the Director explained. "Fandom Island. But chin up, Scrivener. There's a library there, too."
[Content warning for the threat of corporal punishment. NFB for pre-Fandom shenanigans! Some bits and pieces stolen and cobbled together from Sorcery of Thorns, by Margaret Rogerson. Elisabeth won't be at the picnic (sorry new roomie!), it's the start of larp season.]