The invitation had been extended after the whole thing with the Cat Cult and the night at the Archon's palace to meet with Mister Umbra directly -- of which she had been very excited at the time. Mal had taught her a bit, and she had been doing her best at trying to summon barriers, lighting her candles with thought and somatics instead of the box of matches, but the invitation on her next visit to Tevinter had been unexpected. She honestly hadn't expected the other mage, one of Malachai's friends, to remember her. Surely their evening hadn't been that remarkable a time for her to be of memory, but she had an invitation there. Proving her wrong.
So after her day with the scholars at the University, discussing the latest they had come up with on her research, their begging for her notebooks that belonged to the University in Oralis, she longed for company that was nicer, more familiar. And she was pretty certain that if Malachai had wanted to have her over for dinner, he would have sent an invite to her earlier than five in the afternoon. It wasn't seemly to invite someone out after hours, it made it seem like one was a second, or last thought, after not getting the response they wanted from a primary choice.
Lia had no care for primary, secondary, or tertiary choices, but she did know that Mister Umbra had extended the invite, Malachai had not, so she was going to be spending a nice evening with Tiberius and perhaps even learning a bit of magic in the mean time. As the carriage took her to the manor in question, her eyes grew large. Was Umbra one of their most established families? Maybe she should have done a little more research before stepping into the carriage of her own free will.
No. She assured herself. She was in Tevinter, she couldn't be used as a pawn here like she could back home. Here, she was just a scholar, visiting, and about to enjoy an evening with a new friend. She accepted help out of the lavash carriage, looking up at the house and wondering, faintly, where she had ever seen such opulence before in her life, and finding none, save the Palace. Invited inside, she waited where instructed, as the Master of the house was called -- her cloak and stole taken and secreted elsewhere, leaving her in her modest working dress, ink stained cuffs and all. Thank you so much, I'll wait, just here then, for Master Umbra? Her seat taken, she let her eyes wander happily over the furnishings, keeping herself occupied as she waited, excitement trickling into her that she might get a lesson out of the evening.
The tower library was nearly set up the way he wanted it. Grandfather’s monstrous desk – now his in truth – was covered with the simple magical implements that Tevene mages might test their children with. Elemental samples in glass dishes but the budding transmuter or artillerist. A bound wisp in a lantern, a mildly enchanted double edged dagger, a box of good candles. Salt and chalk. A full skeleton of desiccated mouse bones in a match box.
A calinic cat kneading in a blanket and a potted pothos, for harmless tests that might require a living target. If somehow Miss Jolfy had an affinity for blood magic, he’d have to offer up an arm. Wouldn’t that be surprising?
That she’d sent a card back and accepted his invitation, had been interesting in itself. Mal’s interest had been rather transparent, and although Tiberius was engaged to be married soon … Well, Orlesian society wouldn’t look well on it, an unwed lady visiting a man without a proper chaperone. Here, magic was valued more highly than sex or purity – but perhaps he should have invited his mother to sit in?
No, that wouldn’t do. No one would enjoy that at all. A footman arrived to let him know his guest had arrived, and Tiberius took himself off to retrieve her personally.
She looked well, sitting in the foyer with a slightly overawed expression on her face. Dressed for work – unusual, as Tiberius knew few ladies who would attend a social visit without a full costume change. He had dressed down himself, an insignialess version of his House guard’s uniform. Navy with copper piping, and well tailored, but slightly anonymous in these environs.
There was a good chance uncontrolled magic would do damage to clothing. It wasn’t worth risking anything nice.
“Miss Jolfy, allow me to welcome you to my home. If I recall correctly, your field is botany? Let’s take a stroll around the poison garden before we get to work.”
She stood up when he entered the room, out of habit more than anything, people stood when people entered rooms in fancy houses, not normally the ladies, but she wasn't somewhere that she was in her element. In a library? At the University? She may have remained seated, but here, she erred on the side of caution for now -- another country could have so many different social rules than back home, she'd rather look a little silly on her behalf, than to cause unknown offense. Ahh yes, Monsouir Umbra, I am so happy to have been invited, your home is very lovely, and you have all these interesting things within this one room, does your family have them all cataloged for perpetuity?
Lia smiled widely, as he continued, A poison garden you say? Here within the walls of your manor house? Sir, if I didn't know specifically better, I'd say you were trying to flirt. I would love to see this garden, I was told that I shouldn't long for such a garden, it apparently looks poorly on someone of certain social standings, but I've always wanted a garden specifically for tea, and then one for poison. She paused as she raised a brow. Some poisons, their antidote is just their own self again with another agent to prevent or neutralize it's effects. Fascinating stuff, really, when you get into the mechanics of how it works through out the body.
Shut up Lia, the man isn't one of your counterparts here, she chided herself as she moved closer, to be lead along to said gardens. I will promise not to tell you exactly what you should plant next to the items in your garden to help with the various different bugs and things, as I know with the barrier up for the last few years, there are probably whole new ecologies of pests that have come about, especially within a closed environment like such. It's why I wanted two fruiting trees from here, to study how much of a change to the genome happened while your country was walled off from outside influence.
No really, you should let the man get a word in edge wise. One of these days she would listen to her internal monologue and take it's advice.
“Thank you. And I believe so? … My seneschal is responsible for the records and my mother rotates pieces out when the mood strikes.” Tiberius was not quite indifferent to the artworks possessed by his family. Some were even rather effective. Even so, the histories behind them did tend toward the morbid or sad. Always along the lines of: ancestor so-and-so shaped a lovely vase out of raw jade – and bled someone else to death to accomplish it. What wasn’t dreadful was stolen.
The gardens were much easier to be proud of, though of course they were deadly too. Under Lyric’s care, many of the flowering plants were still quite vibrant despite it growing late in the year for blooms.
“Must I have an agenda just to remember a lady’s interests?” He shrugged, imagining Malachai’s sour face with a wry smirk. You would think the terrifying master of the Eyes would have a better poker face. “Then I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that I also own several tea plantations? Perhaps, if you are in Minrathous next spring, I could take you to see the harvest.” The autumn harvest would happen soon, of course – but second flush teas were widely known to be watery and inferior.
Tiberius walked her through the gardens, pointing out the occasional favorite and listening to Ophelia. Much of what she had to say about botany went over his head, but that did not worsen the experience. Enthusiasm and expertise in others were to be admired.
“Perhaps you’d like an introduction to my head gardener?” Later, because they were there. The tower where Tiberius did most of his research lay in front of them. He pulled open the doors and gestured Lia inside. A chandelier alight with silver flames illuminated the central space, including the oversized desk crowded with testing implements.
“You healed that little girl at the palace but – forgive me – I wonder if you’ve ever had much opportunity to practice your magic?” He didn’t know how much she really knew about their mutual friend, Malachai. Neither did he want to be the one that gave away any of his friend’s secrets. The only choice was to press ahead and explain only as needed.
I remember that the estate's pieces were often rotated out on whim as well, that's not an entirely unknown bit of 'Lady of the House' responsibility, thank the Maker I'll never have to deal with any of that. She chuckled as they walked along, raising a brow at his line of query, An agenda no, but I have noticed that my time here in Tevinter seems to be tailors in making me fall in love with the place even more than before. Ophelia teased, until he mentioned a harvest. Oh, now you're just playing downright unfairly, of course I'd want to see that harvest, she paused, bringing up the vast catalog of knowledge she had in her head when it regarded the plant.
Not as brisk as a summer flush, but this harvest offers some more fragrant leaves when brewed. Do you hand dry them in a hot pan, or do you let them do a natural drying cycle and mix them in with the more robust spring harvest. There's the saying after all, "drink Spring tea for liquor texture and drink Autumn tea for fragrance". At least down south.. She was kicking herself again, she was absolutely a chatter box and she didn't think he minded, but, he was talking to her about one of her all time favorite things, and she was easy to get off on a tangent and talking about plants for hours. She enjoyed each of the plants he pointed out, and jumped at the opportunity for the introduction to his gardener. She had some questions about what sort of common pests they were seeing in their gardens, versus what she knew of the gardens in Orlais. She wanted to make sure that there where nothing too different between the two countries, she didn't want to bring any plants into Minrathous from Orlais and risk decimating a crop because they had unknowingly brought in a fungus or aphid that the plants there had been protected by the barrier from.
As they settled into his study though, she eyes the testing implements with a curious eye, falling silent for once as she looked them over. I.. my father didn't want me, nor my younger brother sent to the Circle. She didn't know how much to share, but decided that honest was a virtue, and there was no fear in her heritage there. I was the product of an affair, during my father and his wife's first few years together, before they came to love one another truly. My younger brother was the recognized first child, I of course, was kept in the house and never wanted for anything, but I served as staff mostly. I learned to hide my ability from my brother, and he from a very gifted tutor. I don't think I would have survived a Circle. She ran a finger of the match box, her brow drawing together as she slid a finger to the side to nudge it open. Bones. She didn't shudder though, she was used to fauna, she just didn't have it in her heart to dissect them, let alone eat them most of the time, too tender in that way. her fingers put the box back in order, and her eyes slid over to the wisp, her eyes un-focusing for a moment as she watched it, before her pupils dilated to the point the blues of her irises vanished, so consumed by the widening pupil that all that was left was the black.
The glass had offered her just enough of a reflective surface that she caught a picture in her mind, You're going to tell me here, in a few moments, that there's a type of magic I've been unaware of. She looked up away from the glass, breaking the connection as her eyes re-focused on the wisp. I'm not quite sure why, but I get very strong images in my mind sometimes, I usually liken them to flights of fancy but, they're plays, I can see. There's a few I've never seen again since, but some, happen immediately after. Gut feelings.. that's all. She reached a finger over towards the wisp, a little pleased when it followed her finger around the glass.
Satisfied that his guest was not about to flee screaming from a box of mouse bones, Tiberius settled down in the upholstered chair behind the desk and waited. Her story, while new to him, was not surprising. Lyric had come from similar origins – though with one or two major differences. Though she was the Nicollier’s true born child, it seemed that they had loved her less than Ophelia’s family had her. So to the Circle she had gone, half a continent away.
“My house guests tell me that the South is not as cruel as it once was. Perhaps it will be different for the next generation.” He shrugged one shoulder, feigning indifference. Every rite of Annulment, every rite of Tranquility, was a monstrous injustice that frustrated him to dwell on. But that anger would serve no one here, and as far as Tiberius knew, the Chantry lacked the strength to oppress mages on that scale again.
Still, it was hard to say which auburn haired Orlesian lady had been dealt the better hand by fate. Was stunted magic a fair trade for a birth family that cared for you? Well, one could be worked on and the other could not.
“You’ll find that our Circles are a bit different; grand universities rather than prisons. The Minrathous Circle of Magi operates out of the ancient temple of Razikale. It’s where I met Mal, when we were boys thirty-odd years ago.” Tiberius reached out to the cat on the desk; it stretched and accepted chin scritches, orange eyes narrowing in obvious pleasure. Which was this one again? Lyric had insisted on naming all of the animals — mostly after food, if he recalled correctly.
“Shall I? Well, I would hate to disappoint.” A predisposition for prophecy – that was interesting, but outside of his particular talents entirely. He could find someone better suited. Same with the healing and, even better, he had a teacher for that ready at hand: Lyric herself. An affinity for spirits, though, that he could encourage.
“I’d say you have all the hallmarks of a Seer, Ophelia. Too bad you weren’t born in Rivain. Or perhaps not – the Circle of Diarsmuid were murdered by the Templars in 9:40. Nevertheless,” he gestured toward the wisp following her hand, “Rivaini Seers are sensitive to spirits – I understand they have an easier time with symbiotic possession than most of us.” And what sort of spirit did Ophelia herself house, now that the Veil was gone? Tiberius studied her slantwise, as if he might catch a glimpse.
“It’s … Not the most rigid or well documented field of study. Spirits and demons are all emotion, after all. Yet, it is a useful and versatile school to learn – a spirit may have command of magic that you yourself do not possess.”
