Having left the three ladies, Abeline weaved expertly through the crowd, black cloak swishing behind her. She only needed a few minutes to herself to recharge, and though this may seem an impossible task in the well-attended masquerade, Abe was a practiced urbanite. She could be alone anywhere.

Her target, the bar, became her sole vision. The revelers blended into one mass of irrelevancy, their conversation into so much white noise. She sailed as though in a silent dream, arriving at the bar with a grace she normally did not command. Without a word, she pointed out a bottle of merlot to the bartender, and nodded her thanks when he poured a glass.

The pirate paused to take in the wine's scent, swirling it in the glass, then she held it to the light, judging its color. She took a thoughtful sip, eyes closed, savoring the subtle tastes. Oak barrels, old ones it seems. A hint of fruit. Peaches? Peaches. And... toasted rice. This will do nicely. Another nod to the bartender, and she abstractedly left for the buffet.

A veritable cornucopia awaited her. Pastries, cold meats, melon slices, crackers, and, of course, the cheeses. She gathered bits and pieces on a plate, then, after a quick glance to either side, she surreptitiously slipped a few bread rolls into her bag. These were going to be eaten anyway; surely the University will not mind my taking them up on their hospitality...

As she made her way to an unoccupied table, she scanned the crowd for likely clusters of professors, keeping an eye out for the taller males. Not one sported a strawberry blond rat-tail. With a despondent sigh, she sat, alone and briefly ill-content about the fact. However, as she eyed her food indecisively, her absent, almost chilly demeanor slowly returned.

Crius did so enjoy these masquerades. It was one of the few occasions that the population of Brunnhold would openly flaunt the apparency of their facades. And it was in fact at the masquerade that they were the most honest. Secure behind their masks, they revealed themselves to him, in action and behavior; even the choice of mask spoke volumes about the person behind. He made a game of guessing from a distance who was who behind each one, and he was rarely if ever wrong, after a moment's study.

He'd learnt early on the value of such events in networking and information gathering, and so seldom missed one. He'd barely made it tonight, however, thanks to the tardniess of the vessel and crew he'd commandeered at Dorhaven. Good help was so hard to find.

The expedition, the trap, both had been utter failures. He'd brought back a few trifles to justify his absence, but he was now no closer to his wayward sister and the damned grimore than he had been at square one. Right now it would be prudent to reinforce his presence at Brunnhold, and to wait for the next opportunity for a catch. He would play the spider, then.

To think, his own sister a pirate, all this time! How far their name had fallen, how much further she had dragged it. It was up to Crius to perform the restoration, always, it was up to him.

First port of call was the bar. People were more guarded around someone without a drink, and so he ordered a large glass of red wine. When it was in his hand, he scanned around for some interesting morsel before nosing about the ambassadors and royalty. Then he spotted her; a woman decked out in pirate gear, pilfering food, thinking no one could see. How appropriate!

When she had settled, he made his approach.

"I say, what a fine costume you have procured! Would you mind if I joined you? I have need of company, as I arrived late, and it would seem have been somewhat left in the dust. My, what an excellent mask!"

His own was a simple affair, a carved wooden mask depicting a broad grin with an elongated nose. It served effectively to undermine the import that others attributed to his actions when he wore it, which could be greatly advantageous, but when it came to diplomats, he would need a more subtle approach.

Torn between two loves, gouda and brie, Abe knew nothing of the goings on around her. Sounds, shapes, and even fields passed by unheeded. Eventually, an anomaly made its way to her attention; a field lingered nearby, slightly longer than expected by her mental filters. She looked up.

Oh, bother.

A gentleman with a wooden grin stood there, tall and thin, and well within the boundaries of her taste... not that it mattered. His figure, though agreeable, could not improve her aloof reception of him. To Abe, a cerebral creature if ever there was one, the mind was the primary consideration in choosing who she would spend her time with. As long as the mind was brilliant, the soul deep, and the heart relatively pure, she could have a friend. Those who possessed all three of her requirements were so few and far between, that Abe was, as always, pessimistic.



There are other people he could irritate, why must he interrupt my meditation? Still, through his choice of words, he showed a glimmer of promise. But perhaps he won't be too tiresome. She inclined her chin, wineglass in-hand, and subtly motioned to a chair.

"You may, sir..." Her reedy voice started indifferent, but ended curiously hanging, as though several questions weren't being asked. Then she remembered her manners, that compliments must be acknowledged and returned in a predictable and tedious ritual. She nodded slightly.

"Thank you. The mask is my own design. Yours is," she stalled briefly, as she presently did not have the energy to form an opinion, let alone shape it into a polite response, "a fine one as well."

After a tap of the tricorn, she resumed contemplating the dilemma of cheeses. Perhaps the brie...?

Crius smirked at her valiant attempt.

"Haha, this was the last thing the mask vendor had by the time I got there! Not my sort of thing at all, but I'm afraid I was somewhat unprepared."

He had infact selected and pre-ordered the mask before he'd set out for Dorhaven.

"I'm Crius, Crius Levent. Brunnhold field researcher. Are you faculty, or visiting?
I reccomend the gouda, I happen to know the caterers source from Dorhaven, there they mature the cheese expertly."

The pirate chuckled quietly. "That's the second time tonight I've been mistaken for faculty. Is there something about me that says 'teacher'..?" She sighed with feigned exasperation. In truth, she had considered earning a professorship later in life.

"I'm Abeline Ixbridge, neither visiting nor faculty. You get one guess as to my occupation." Her smirk indicated she didn't think this should be difficult; her field tended to give it away.

Leaning back, Abe eyed him analytically. She remembered the Levent name being bandied about by upperclassmen, usually in reference to someone hidden behind a cloud of sycophants.

Where is his omnipresent retinue? Why would he choose to sit with me, of all people? The thought was one of curiosity rather than self-pity; her place on the social hierarchy did not figure into her self-respect. And, while she rarely participated in social maneuvering, she knew roughly how it worked from the many histories she'd read. He probably has no clue who I am; he must be testing the waters for a potential contact.



"Dorhaven, you say? Apparently you are a man who knows his cheeses." With a tilt of her head, she took a knife to the gouda. Adroitly spreading the cheese on a cracker, she confided, "Dorhaven's one of my favorites. If the caterers had deigned to label it, my decision would have been much easier."

The impersonal topic improved her mood. Abe began to think of the mosquito-nosed gentleman as less of a nuisance and more of a potentially entertaining distraction for the evening... or until he tired of her peculiar company, whichever came first.

She looked back to Crius and raised the cheese-laden cracker as a sort of shield between them. Despite her slight mollification, she was still somewhat distant, skeptical even. He'd achieved, after all, a social standing more than a little above her own.

Abe inquired (not without a hint of genuine interest), "What is it you research, Mister Levent?"

((sorry this reply took so long...ugh, bitchslap me if I take more than a day forthe next reply...))



Crius liked games, but as suggested, this one was perhaps a little easy for his tastes.

"That you work with living magic is clear, but I wonder, in what capacity? Campus medical staff? Healing research? Botany?"

He personally felt no hint of plant specific field signature, but it never hurt to appear to flounder when disguising intent.



"I'm glad you ask! I've been looking for independently developed perceptive spells, variations on known ones, and some unknown. I've been tracking down origins, performing lexical analysis, that sort of thing. Involves a lot of travel, but I shall be back in Brunnhold for at least the next term for my write up."

Crius scanned the room quickly, spotting the queen, headmistress and a mugrobi man of some political import.

"Lovely ball, isn't it? I do rather enjoy these art fairs." he said, to cover his action.
"Who've you come with?"

"Your first guess was correct. Nevertheless, the other two were no not within bounds. You owe me two guesses, to be redeemed..." A noncommittal shrug of her narrow shoulder. "Oh, some time later."


"Interesting. Perceptive, what a double-edged sword." For its ability to disable aggressors without causing injury, she respected the discipline, as it made her job easier. However, it could also cause permanent psychological damage, which she, as a living mage, had no idea how to heal.

"Might you know Professor Alleratt? He also works in perceptive and was recently added to the faculty. He is a good friend of mine.." she trailed off, looking absently toward the twirling mass of dancers. It was simply the movement that drew her eye, until she recognized someone.

Is that Theo? Dancing with a-- I didn't know she-- but isn't that girl a little young? Well then! I should hope it's platonic.


"Hrm? Oh," she pulled back to reality, saying, "I suppose. I usually prefer the art fair to the ball, but this year I've been.." avoiding the exhibits like the plague "..tied up in the infirmary."


"Only myself. And Captain Abe, a rather moony pirate," she said, flicking the brim of her tricorn to indicate these were one and the same. She added, "Bubo latro," using old estuan to construct a scientific term for a nonexistent species of plundering owl.

"Oh, I am sorry. But however will I make it up to you?" he joked harmlessly, careful to play down body language so as not to mistake the throwaway comment as flirtatious, yet.



"Alleratt, Alleratt...hmm...the name sounds...familiar, but I can't place it. Recent faculty you say? My, I have a lot of catching up to do!"

Crius knew all about Edguard, about his weak stomach for interrogation, his library hideaway, his ghostchasing, and most of all, his "Imbali" mother. Applying for the same position as Crius Levent meant your life was fair game. Crius had plenty dirt on the man, but he hesitated to destroy him, for in a lot of ways, the two had a lot in common. Besides, in even a fair fight Crius was more than the match for Edguard.

"What's his first name?"



"Haha! I see you have quite the talent for invention, Healer Ixbridge. Captain, sorry."

He made a thin smile, then sipped his wine while squinting at the dance floor. So many strange couples. It reminded him of the current political climate...shifting, unstable, clumsy, inconsistent. He secretly hoped to see one twirling couple fall down to punctuate and validate his internal judgement, but reality continued to disappoint him.

I see I will have to give things my own little....push.

"Tied up you say? Have there been more medical duties recently? Students getting into trouble?"

Abe had no idea how to respond to that. She didn't particularly care about the 'debt' he had to her, and wasn't sure she wanted to be owed anything. In fact, she was fairly sure she didn't. Eventually, she figured out something that would adequately express her indifference.

"Think nothing of it."


"Edguard. He's also a librarian." She sipped her wine, smirking privately. The woman rather liked books, and she rather liked people who rather liked books.


Her comment was a bit of a test. By not getting confused to death or running away, he passed. "Hmm, so it's been said. Oh, yes: Arr, barnacles, and so forth."


"Quite a bit of it. They seem to want to get all their dueling in before the rainy season. I honestly can't wait for Loshis to roll by; it'll be like a vacation. I'll be able to catch up on some reading -- I've gotten a bit behind on the medical journals."

Crius had had his fill of pirates in his brief time spent aboard Dorhaven's "Windlass". His faced lacked the humour that his short laugh contained, but his true expression was hidden by the smiling mask.



"That's good to know, if I am to be staying here I would do well to know the lay of the land as far as the students' behaviour goes. Is there a specific area of medicine where your interests lie?"

"Yes. All of it." She spoke curtly, but something in the cant of her shoulders and the angle of her head suggested there was more going on behind the mask. The healer leaned back with a short, resigned sigh, giving up on an internal battle.

"Lately, I've been exploring methods for treating patients without using the mona. The duelists, you see, often come in with their mona rather agitated by inexpert handling. It can make healing much more difficult than it has to be. One either has to work against the mona or soothe them -- both wastes of what could be precious time. So, I figure, why bother with the bastards at all? I can just work around them."

There was a frustrated wave of her hand, and she leaned forward, her tone turning circumspect. "We're taught to think magic is the best solution, and our moral justification for damn near anything, but it is often not the most efficient, or even useful, thing we could do. We think we command the mona, but, I believe, we have become so reliant on them that they now rule us. At least our mindset."

The woman shook her head slightly, as though waking from a spell. "Sorry about the rant. I.. I think that one's been building up for a few weeks." She smirked, only half-feigning her sympathy for the unfortunate gentleman. "You happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, I fear."

"Not to worry, I assure you. There's not enough wine in all the cellars of Brunnhold that'd enable me to endure another conversation about dresses. A bit of intellectual stimulation is what this place needs."



The Galdori truly were in a dark age if their faith in the mona was spent. In her vast ignorance the healer had essentially admitted she wanted to learn from the lesser beings. Imagine, humans practicing medicine! The thought nearly made him laugh aloud bitterly, but deception was his arena, and his disgust did not show.

He nodded slowly.

"Yes, always best to err on the side of caution, I find. You know, some of my aeroship crew were saying that it was the sort of thing the military had come up against often. Perhaps you could speak to someone from the AAF..?"

Crius nodded toward the group of the most influential people in Anaxas.

"Perhaps our Mugrobi ambassador might have something to say on the matter. They did have that rather sizable health crisis a few years ago..."

The healer was beginning to regret her frankness. She rarely spoke her mind so openly, and his apparent agreement, or open-mindedness, was doubly concerning. She might be tempted to elaborate, and that would only cause trouble for her. He'd tell someone else, blithely or not, and they'd tell another person, ad infinitum, until her reputation for political neutrality was dissolved.

To get out of the hole she dug herself, she would have to throw some doubt on her previous statements. Carefully.

"That's exactly what I think. When the free flow of ideas is blocked by dresses and what-have-yous, the University ceases being a crucible for new ideas. It also makes it difficult to play hatcher's advocate, a favorite pastime of mine, if there's nothing of substance to rail against," she said with an impish smirk.


"Hrm." Her smirk faded as she contemplated actually speaking with humans. While she did not share Crius' covert disgust, she did not relish the surely awkward, possibly hazardous, experience it would be. She said, almost bitterly, "In my copious free time, of course..."


She idly rearranged some olives on her plate into little rows of briny infantry. "That they did. Fortunately, the cure was simply replacing the water, though I understand the logistics of doing that in a desert country were somewhat.. problematic." As if a casualty of war, an olive was skewered by her fork and eaten.

"You said you travel. Have you ever been to Mugroba?"