I hope it is not too forward to write to you. I have been in Lantern Waste these last weeks, learning from one of the healers here. There are not as many people about here as there are in the castle and the village, but there are still a good many, and I had a thought talking with a Bird here about Prince Cor’s friends in Meahrdell.
Continue reading to chlamash, 8 harvesthome 1017
Lanisen sits alone on a bench, absently braiding strands of grass together with a method that is slower than the usual one, but allows him to compensate for his bad hand. His knees are drawn up, and he has the shadowed eyes that mean a sleepless night.
Chlamash makes his way along the pathway towards the Infirmary garden, this time with purpose as opposed to aimlessly wandering. He pauses however when he sees Lanisen with his knees draw up.
Lanisen looks up when the movement of Chlamash’s approach catches his eye. He drops the grass and unfolds to stand, and bows.
Continue reading the salamander
The Beach near Sted Cair
Lanisen is sitting in the shadow of a heap of boulders a little ways from the shore, his waterskin by his side and a book in his lap. He can see most of the beach from his seat.
Leon strolls along the beach, admiring the view. He takes no notice of Lanisen for the moment, so engrossed in the view is he.
Lanisen raises his head from his book as the Faun comes into view. He doesn’t call out or disturb him, but he doesn’t return immediately to his book either. He reaches for his waterskin and takes a drink.
Continue reading fisfolokical
Lanisen sits on a chair under a window on the north wall, one leg curled underneath him, engrossed in a book. He’s got a tired, peaky look to him, but for the moment he’s at his ease. The infirmary is otherwise empty except for Stormsbreath, working in peaceful silence down the room.
Chlamash enters through the infirmary door. While he is freshly attired for the day, there is a tired, weary look to him. He doesn’t seem to see Lanisen, looking for the Centaur healer.
Continue reading crossing paths
You stand in a corner of the gardens where the courtyard meets the castle’s walls, just outside the door to the Castle Apothecary. The Royal Garden here is dominated by a variety of plants known for their healing properties, including small shrubs of blackberries, various wildflowers and assorted herbs.
The plants are well-tended and the walk is quite aromatic! Beneath your feet is a decorative path which leads south and west away from the walls. South leads to the door to the Great Hall, West leads along the wall and further into the garden, in the general direction of the main gates of Cair Paravel.
Lanisen is sitting on a bench beside the little yew tree, one leg curled up underneath him. A book is open in his lap, and a notebook and charcoal are next to him.
Chlamash comes strolling along the pathway, a pipe in his mouth. He looks very thoughtful and it is likely that the strolling is of aimless type.
Continue reading recipients of grace
You stand in a surprisingly long, quiet room that runs the length of this side of Cair Paravel’s west wing. The room is narrow in shape, and thus appears to be more of a long, unusually wide corridor. Someone has constructed a series of shelves along the north wall, under tiny windows that let in only enough light to see by. Torchwicks line the south wall that can be lit for additional illumination, and under them sit several wooden tables and accompanying benches.
The floors are bare, so your footfalls send hollow-sounding echoes through the marble walls. There are archways at the southeast and west ends of the room — the west archway leading into the northwest tower, and the southeast archway leading into the common gallery.
Chlamash glances to Mateo, “Zalinreh was a little land under her own disorganized rule. The possession of a lessor lord of a lesser land. Teebeth, the capital city of Tisroc’s enemy. Both now prosper under the Tisroc’s rule.” He thinks for a moment, “Now where should I begin…” This he says more to himself than to his companion.
Mateo nods a little as he listens, waiting for the main part of the story to begin.
Lanisen steps into the library, the heavy door closing softly behind him, carrying two cups of tea. He turns aside to talk briefly with the Faun attendant at her desk and leaves one cup of tea with her before moving on. He looks toward Chlamash and Mateo curiously.
Continue reading war stories
Lanisen has found an alcove in which to tuck himself away under one of the windows on the north wall. The early afternoon sunlight slants down onto the pages of his book and reflects onto his face from underneath.
Avery enters the library, holding a leather-bound book and a small, thin wooden box. Her steps are quiet, but there are little clacking sounds coming from the box.
Lanisen looks up at the soft weighty sound of the door closing again. He straightens slightly where he sits, alert, and gets up to bow.
Continue reading portraits and shaky ground
Edmund sits before the library fire with a book open in his lap, his long legs outstretched and feet resting on a hassock. Besides him steams a mug of something that smells of apples and comfort.
Lanisen enters the library through the heavy doors to the east, shutting them gently behind him. Despite the care he takes, the sound echoes softly through the room and up to the high ceiling.
The young King lifts his head at the noise.
Continue reading we traitors three
Chlamash is making his way along by one of the shelves of histories. He takes a book from the shelf examining it, leafing shortly through it before setting it back in its place.
Lanisen slips into the library from the common gallery, glancing down the room as he does so. Catching sight of Chlamash, he hesitates, then ducks his head and makes his way toward the shelves.
Continue reading mutual apology
Lanisen has, as is becoming his habit, found a space in the late morning at one of the back tables with a book. He is reading silently and seems absorbed, except that he is rubbing his right shoulder absently with his thumb as he does so.
Chlamash enters quietly, a cup of tea in his hands and an book or two under his arm. He doesn’t look to be particularly well rested this morning however, of his attire however nothing seems to be out of place.
Continue reading overstepping & morning insomnia