Intro Overflow: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Overflow

Comments

[veilfires]

[If he’s amused as well by Francel’s reaction, if he entirely knows the shock caused by the contrast between his words and his worn demeanour, his humour is so dry that he doesn’t show that either. Putting Merissa’s dream log to join the pile, he tilts his head and quirks the corner of his mouth in response.]

Yes?

[He’s very interested in answering questions, especially academic ones, but he somehow appears to scale back his enthusiasm. There’s a shadow of reticence – he is more wary of personal ones.]

[haillenarte]

[francel opens his mouth — closes it. he presses his lips together, briefly; he seems to be wrestling with some great internal struggle. after a moment, however, he speaks again, calm and measured.]

...I would like to preface, firstly, with the fact that I mean no offense, and that if I cause you any, you are most welcome to refuse to answer.

[veilfires]

[And now he is quite prepared for a question of a personal nature. He has a reservoir of distrust and unease for such questions. Still - Francel clearly is treating this with consideration, and approaching whatever it is carefully, which he notices and appreciates. Though on guard, Solas’ demeanour is nothing less than pleasant.]

I will endeavour both not to take offence, and to answer, if I may.

[haillenarte]

[for a moment, the young man looks as though he is going to just spit it out, get it over with, thrust the matter like some unwieldy thing into solas's hands. but then his nerve, apparently, fails him. he closes his eyes, almost grimaces. he tells himself he has to get it out.

he meant for it to at least sound dignified, but it comes out in a strained whisper, as if francel himself cannot believe that he is asking this question... which, to be fair, he can't.]

...Why are you bald?

[...evidently this has plagued him the entire time.]

[veilfires]

[He takes this moment to pick up another book for reconsideration (it is titled An Enchanting Otherplace – Or How An Idea May Be Most Eccentric, Yet Remain Very True!: Containing An Extended Refutation Of Mr Addington’s Ill-Considered Defamation Of Miss Chaucer’s Seminal Travelogue.)

If the pause is deliberate – if he’s noticed Francel is a self-conscious man, and believes he need only give that self-consciousness room to abash him, in place of Solas himself needing to say it is a foolish question – well.]

A physical distinction between our kind? You are possessed of distinguishing height. We are both elves, yet I do not reach your shoulder. Similarly, my people are, on occasion, bald.

[haillenarte]

I — y-yes, but — that is, I did notice — well, it is not that Elezen cannot be bald, but rather, I have not known baldness to afflict any man who has not seen at least some seventy-odd summers, and even then, it is most uncommon, and mine own father, er...

[blushing in furious self-consciousness, as he feels more and more that he is digging his own grave with every word, francel tips his head to one side, studying solas's features as if for the first time. the man is neither old nor young, in a strange way; francel would be hard-pressed to give his age, and finds it near impossible to even guess it. older than thirty, more like than not, and not as aged as the archbishop — but then, francel's own father, a man of fifty and six, looks infinitely more youthful.

the longer francel thinks on it, the more he gives himself a headache.]

I-I mean to say... you look... fine.

[...the sad truth is that he meant it, but, having delivered that in the worst way possible, francel promptly shuts his mouth and looks as if he is praying for the library to conveniently burst into flame.]

[veilfires]

[Solas opens An Enchanting Otherplace, and appears to be deeply immersed in it at once. So much so that he is offhanded in replying to Francel’s observations of his appearance.]

That is relieving.

[There is a heavy pause.]

Ah! Among Miss Chaucer’s claims, she has stated that the Faelands can be entered consciously if the sufficiently cultivated divinator dreams, as they sleep, that they are stepping into a circle of mushrooms. That is fascinating.

[haillenarte]

[there are, francel supposes, around three different ways this could be playing out. the first possibility is that solas is politely changing the subject to spare him further embarrassment. the second is that he is so offended that he is implicitly telling francel to drop the subject. the third is that the man really doesn’t give much of a damn one way or the other, but in any case, in all three possibilities, francel has proven himself for an enormous fool.

he tries to focus his attention on the meat and bones of what solas has discovered in his reading... but instead his mind conjures an image of solas stepping into a circle of mushrooms, meditating in them, until finally the mushrooms grow on his head. an inexplicable peal of laughter escapes him; he is still red in the face. now, apparently, he is the one who has been fae-cursed with unstoppable giggling.]

I — Fury have mercy — apologize, Solas, I think — [why is it so funny?!] — I need a... a moment’s air. Do let me know if I can... be of any more assistance...

[veilfires]

[It’s best for the both of them if Solas is just this deeply engrossed in his research, so if his eyebrow does twitch with vexation it’s probably at some illogical conclusion he’s just read.

(Also this book is fascinating.)]

Of course.

[Have a good day, Francel. Twelve guide you.]