Campion trailed a finger along the spine of several books as he browsed the shelves, not looking for anything in particular, more to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Plucking a particularly boring looking book on living magic from the shelves, he opened it slowly and flicked through it, the words melting into the same mush they had done when he was at school. He added it to the growing pile of books that had been useless to him at the university, as theory was all well and good for some students, but not for galdori who slid into Brunnhold by the seats of their pants. There was, however, a small spark of triumph to be found when Campion found a doodle of his own creation, gone unnoticed for around six years judging by the quality of the drawing and the size of the woman's breasts. He shook his head at the small drawing with a faint smile, puberty had not taken kindly to the young Luccullis boy.

This was going to be his cover, Campion had decided, not wanting to attract too much attention to himself. Though the library seemed lonely without the usual throng of students, it was perfectly acceptable for the adult galdor population to visit the on campus library, and Campion would claim that he was using the holidays as the perfect excuse for some further education- an alibi which would fall flat on it's face if he ran into one of his old professors, all of which knew he'd been desperate to get out of the school and never learn anything again as long as he lived, especially since he'd yelled it at the top of his lungs in a lap of the sports field. But at least he'd had his clothes on that time.

He sat at one of the desks reserved for students, though most of these were not in use flipping open the text book had the same effect on him as it always had done, evoking a strange set of paradoxical feelings, a strange burst of energy that made him want to tell a joke or do something thoroughly embarrassing and make a general nuisances of himself, a need to doodle and also a sense of lethargy that made him want to fall into a deep sleep. Without the whisper of students, the silence of the library was almost overwhelming and he tapped his pen onto the desk, trying to inject something into the crushing hush. He managed to spatter ink lightly into the grooves of the desk while doing so, and glanced nervously up to see if the librarian was looking. Some things never changed.

With the book open, he scanned the library, not forgotten why he was here, studying all who entered for a glimpse of the familiar blue uniform, so he could get to writing this damnable article.

The students may have been away and the library unpopulated, but caution was still exercised as Aurelie came in. One could never be too careful, she reasoned with herself as she tried to look as unobtrusive as possible. It wasn't necessary, really, as the students mostly viewed her and all passives on the much same level as a piece of furniture-- useful, but not something you really ever looked at. Still, it wouldn't do to attract attention from any remaining students. She might be allowed in, but that didn't mean she was always wanted.

Her fingers, wrapped in bandages from an incident with a cast iron pan, skittered along the spines. There were a few ingredients she'd felt the urge to exploit in her recipes, but she wasn't entirely sure what the traditional context for them was. As she browsed her eyes fell on a gangly individual, tapping incessantly. She tried her best to ignore it, but the damnable sound was the only thing to break the oppressive silence. She opened one book, trying to focus on the medicinal uses for a common kitchen herb. No good. That infernal golly and his miserable tapping! The book was snapped shut with an irritated clap.

At the sound of the book snapping shut, Campion whirled his head around with a slight jump, not expecting it. As he did so, he spotted the noise's owner, a passive perusing the shelves. Three years away from Brunnhold and he had quite forgotten the protocol for dealing with passives, so he gave Aurelie a small smile, and a nod of his head, the way he would do any person on the street, not remembering that a passive was more likely to take any kind of positive interaction, even the smallest of gestures, the wrong way.

Oblivious to Aurelie's annoyance, he tapped his pen louder on the table, as an outlet for his thoughts. He wondered about this passive, and the circumstances which had led to her being enslaved, particularly whether they were suitably heartwrenching. His eyes traveled to her fingers, which were heavily bandaged- not realizing they were kitchen related- and felt a similar course of pity, just as he had done when he was a boy. Before corporal punishment had been abolished, he'd seen passives limping and nursing bruises, it had made him uncomfortable, even before he'd been a true sympathizer, particularly because of the bullying he recieved and because the '2' he'd received in his exam had weighed heavily on his head, he had been 2 simple points away from being a slave himself.

Not realizing he had been staring at Aurelie in a disconcerting way and that she might interpret it as something more unsettling than genuine journalistic intent he leaned forwards in the chair and whispered with a polite element of concern, "Excuse me, Ms. How did you get those?" he pointed to his hands, before adding hastily, "If you don't mind my asking."

He'd done it, he'd made first contact.

Aurelie stiffened. Not only had the gangly golly not stopped tapping, now he was staring. Staring! And he smiled at her! She had not had good experiences with smiling gollies since putting on her blue uniform for the first time. Golly smiles ended in passive tears, she'd often found. What sort of agenda did he have, anyway? And would he ever cease that noise?

Oh no. Now he was leaning towards her. Leaning! Alarms were ringing in her brain, but what could she do really? Cry for help? Help, help a golly is leaning at me? Why was he still staring? "I-I burnt my fingers," she said in response to his question. Quite honestly her brain thought she was going to not answer him and leave, but it seemed her mouth had other plans. "Sir," she added, as an afterthought.

Campion blinked at the passive's fear, as far as he knew, he didn't even look vaguely threatening but he remembered that this response wasn't exactly unusual.

"Ah, of course, engaging in a light spot of arson?" he said with a joking smile, "That takes me back."

He searched the room awkwardly, not entirely sure where to go from that, eyes now falling on the book which she clutched in her hand, "Recipes?" It was just as well that Campion was a small talk expert, one of the very few talents of the landed classes, "I'll trade you." He flapped open one of the dusty tomes he was reading, carefully ignoring Aurelie's frightened expression, "These books would really be much more engaging if they had pictures of cakes in them too, I know my brother would have certainly gotten better marks if his textbooks had pastry goods on every page."

He had some idea that if he kept talking and talking, she wouldn't bolt like a rabbit- she may think he was mad, but she wouldn't bolt, and then he could ever so slowly bring up the topic of his article. "Oh of course, kitchen recipes! A kitchen passive," he smiled, "that explains your hands slightly more than my explanation."

He glanced nervously around the library and said in a low voice, "It must be hard work, preparing food for so many students, yes? Brutal some would say."

"Oh absolutely not!" The reply flew out of her mouth before she had time to stop it. She was going to have to give it a rather stern talking-to before bed. Fingers tightened on her recipe book. This was a distinctly odd experience. Here she was, a walking piece of furniture, and there he was, talking to her like... like she was a person. It unsettled her, this upsetting of the natural order of her life. Slowly she was coming to realise that the strangeness of this person was outweighing the threat. It was in some small manner comforting to think of this person as harmlessly insane, rather than actively threatening.

Triston walked slowly through the library, head held low in an attempt to be even less noticeable then usual. She'd passed a few aisles, but had yet to find anything of interest to 'borrow'. In Fact, she was at the point of giving up when she spotted Aurelie. She hadn't even known that Aurelie visited the library, and in her excitement to greet her new friend, didn't realise she was speaking with a galdor.

"Hallo Aurelie! I didn't know y-Oh." She had spotted Campion, and like a deer in the path of an arrow, had frozen. Quickly, a filter seemed to go over her actual feelings, and she bowed. "I am deeply sorry, sir. I did not mean to interrupt."

"Are you sure?" said Campion, slightly disappointed, "not even a little bit of a brutality?" He was glad for the passive, that her life was not so awful that she had to vent to complete strangers, but she wasn't free, and her reaction would only support the argument of some, ignorant gollies 'See, they like slavery'

The conversation, well it was mostly on Campion's part was interrupted by the presence of a second passive, who was small and blonde with the same passive nervousness and looked a little younger than Aurelie.



He smiled and tipped his head, matching Triston's bow, "Oh no, not at all Ms. I was simply bothering your friend...Aurelie, is it? Distracting myself from these terrible books." He patted the textbook carefully and tried so hard, so very hard not to sound condescending as was a trap most sympathizers fell into. He looked at both passives and beamed, "Well, this is quite a party isn't it? It must be nice when the students are away, to have the library to yourself- aside from the odd lunatic like myself. Do you like to read?" He sounded condescending, but he really couldn't help it, he was alarmingly posh after all.

Aurelie and her friend. He made a mental note of that, of the timid way they behaved and made sure he would mention it in the article.

Aurelie's eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. He was a sympathizer. She almost preferred thinking he was a deranged pervert. "The kitchens," she said, trying her hardest to hide the acid edge to her voice, "do not have galdori in them." There was a long, deliberate pause. "Sir." She was being flagrantly rude, she knew. She almost hoped the disrespect would upset him.

"Triston," she said, turning quite abruptly to her bunkmate. "Perhaps you would better field a question about reading. I, after all, come to the library only for the pictures and the... company."

"Books, oh uh... I like books" Triston slipped her glasses off, wiping them on her apron awkwardly. "But Were not supposed to read!" She said this like she was just reminded of the rule herself. "So...I... don't."

Smooth.

She continued to fiddle with her hands, Triston's normal way to deal with stressful situations, and this situation was turning out to be very stressful

"Quite right too," said Campion, deliberately ignoring her frosty demeanor, if anything it made him force himself to sound even more cheerful, "If most of them are like me, then the kitchens of Brunnhold would have been burnt to cinders long ago...it is only this month that I have learned one should not attempt to boil a chicken in a kettle." He paused and smiled, tipping his head like a teasing puppy, "Ms."



"And what splendid company it is," he said jovially, forgetting that one ought to be quiet in a library, contrary to finding Aurelie's disrespect upsetting, he enjoyed it, having always been a masochist at heart and it was incredibly refreshing to find a passive willing to answer back. He turned to Triston as she was prompted to speak and smiled a little as she fumbled, though he was not being condescending.

He shook his head as she explained about the reading, what was it with his race and banning people from reading? Daisy had had to teach herself, being human, and was one of the smartest people he knew, despite being not nearly as educated as his school friends. There was something of her in the little blonde passive, though he tried not to think of that- if he was in Brunnold, he was going to forget about the thorough mess he'd made of his life in Vienda. Miserable at school. Miserable out of it. Why was it that wherever he went he couldn't get it right?

"It isn't fair," he said more to himself than to Triston, because of course she knew it wasn't fair. She lived it. "Why shouldn't you be allowed books? Do they think that you will construct paper wings from the pages and glide out of Brunnhold?"

Poor Triston. Aurelie did feel bad, putting her on the spot like that. They had just begun to be friends, after all. Her words weighed heavily on Aurelie. Yes, they were not supposed to read. It was truly for this reason that she was rarely in the library-- being here made her sick at heart. They were the same, she thought fiercely. The same blood, the same heritage. Any one of the spoilt, detestable students or faculty that filled these walls could have been her, could have been Triston. She suspected that was half the reason for their cruelty. "It is... not about chains upon the body," she said quietly, her deep-seated bitterness crawling its way into her speech.

Triston nodded at Aurelie's words, who seemed to be much better at stringing them together then she was. Her nervous twitches were brought to a halt as she replaced the glasses on her head, only to restart by uslessly fiddling with the apron she wore.

"I think they think stupid passives are easier to control the learned ones."

There were no words, of course, of comfort that Campion could offer. Nothing anybody could say to alleviate or change centuries of suffering, and even if someone could, it would in no way be Campion Luccullis, who specialized in jokes, cartoons and in wry smiles.

Instead, he pushed his hair back as it fell into his eyes, head feeling naked without his hat and began to scribble down notes, about reading, about the blonde girl who wanted nothing more to lose herself in a book and of the other, frostier, perhaps more bitter passive who clutched her recipe book as though it were a suit of armor.

It is... not about chains upon the body,

His neat calligraphy descended into a scrawl as he scratched at the paper, nose almost pressed to it's surface.

"I think they think stupid passives are easier to control the learned ones."

It was of course, terribly obvious what he was doing, none of the textbooks on his desk were open so he could not be copying from them and he had positioned his body so it turned to face the two passives, signaling that he was listening intently.

"It is a travesty," he said, to his paper and not to the two young women. Biting his pen, a little ink soaking onto his bottom lip, he thought carefully "Is travesty the word you would use? Something stronger perhaps?"

"Galdori are the travesty," Aurelie spat. "And I don't think anything you write will change that." She wanted to take Triston and leave, to go back their lives and not be bothered with a false sort of sympathy. "I am not glad of my station but I will be thankful for the rest of my life I was not born the same as them." She surprised herself, both in her vehemence and her willingness to speak on it. Perhaps the novelty of someone actually listening was too much for her.

((SFSP gaiz))

Triston brought her hands up near her face like a makeshift shield, afraid of consequences for Aurelie speaking so harshly about galdori. She would be the first to admit she was too spineless to ever say anything like that, and the last to admit she'd even want to. Biting her lip, the small passive stumbled blindly through the hollows of her mind for something to say.

"Travesty seems to fit well."

Campion looked very patiently at his paper, carefully writing down what Aurelie said. He had not expected this to be easy- afterall he was sacrificing what was left of an already tattered reputation, but he'd thought that most of the difficulty would come after the thing was written.



He nodded his head gently at Triston who looked somehow petrified, in a small gesture that seemed to say, 'thank you' before turning back to Aurelie.

"Yes, I like that," he said with another smile, "Galdori are the travesty. I myself am a travesty on the football pitch, it really isn't pretty to watch," he sat up in his chair and smiled, the way his mother had taught him, a skill he'd picked up from endless parties with the dullest of dull galdori folk.

"Do you know, I've always been lean- I've never been quite as bad as I am now- but lean all the same and very weak, I crumpled like paper on the football field. But I'm rather good at long distance, one of the fasted boys in my year at school" he raised an eyebrow, "some might say it was due to perseverance."

He opened one of the magic books, "Though I think that's untrue. I give up on a lot of things, take this for instance, I could never grasp a spell like this in a million years without backlash or a severe nosebleed. So I didn't try...but perhaps I only persevere with things I care about."

He ran an awkward hand through his hair, the calm, well mannered veneer well and truly broken as he continued in earnest.

"I may be a travesty on the football pitch, Ms. Aurelie. But I'm no tyrant, it doesn't give me pleasure to see passives unable to read, I assure you."

She considered her next words for a long moment. She was upsetting Triston, she could tell. How far could she go, truly? But she couldn't, wouldn't, stop, and she knew it. A lifetime of deep-seated bitterness had been brought to the fore; she did not possess the self-control to put it back. "I can read," she said, at last. Her hands trembled a little, holding their book. She willed them to stop. "...Maybe you aren't. But maybe you will be tomorrow. Galdori hearts are fickle, ever-changing like the sea or the sky." She grew silent again.

"They are pitiable culture who do not even know how to love." Her eyes were hot. She ignored them. "A sad people, who cannot even love their own children if they are flawed." She blinked, rapidly, fighting a swell of sadness.

Triston looked at Aurelie, terrified by what she was saying. She didnt want to get in trouble, but she didnt want to stop the other passive from venting. They got to do that so rarely, and Triston could see how much anger boiled over into Aurelie's words. This pot had been left to simmer too long.



"But not as pretty." Triston added.

Campion looked down at his paper as the two passives spoke, quite sure that he ought to take this down, but finding that he wasn't writing anything, instead folding his hand into a fist in front of his mouth. It was not a personal attack, of course, but a sweeping generalization- it seemed as though every race and creed on Vita fell into that particular trap.

He knew how to love, and he wasn't fickle. It would have been far easier than it had been for him if he was, then perhaps what he was feeling wouldn't sting quite so hard. He could not blame the passives, they had seen nothing but the cruelest side of galdori nature since the age of ten, but they had it wrong. The galdori were not clockwork or mechanical, though most of them tried to be, he had seen that in the way his mother- the golliest of all gollies- the way her voice had broken slightly as she told him that he was no longer welcome in the Luccullis home.

There was hurt there. In Aurelie and Triston, he tried to smile and fought so very hard not to say something wryly amusing as he was so prone to do in these difficult moments, "Your parents..." he prompted, feeling truly awful and exploitive for even now thinking of the article. "They left you here...and..."

He snapped the book shut with a sigh and rubbed his temples, travelling had made him weary and it seemed as though he had hit a dead end in the library. But there were other passives in Brunnhold, other pathways to try.

"I'm with the society for passive equality, Campion Luccullis. It has always been my desire to help the passives at Brunnhold and it is what I intend to do, as soon as I have an interview with a passive or two, ," he stood up and bowed at the two, incredibly deeply, his undernourished bones almost creaking in protest, "I will be here everyday until the students are back. You can inform the proper authorities if you wish, and have me escorted from the premises for disturbing...something...I am rather good at it. Or you can trust me. Or at least tell me what I can do to gain your trust."

Aurelie suddenly felt very tired. Her ire was spent, her rage given voice, and she didn't even feel better. All she really felt was tired and sad and far older than her twenty years. She was being unreasonable; she knew this very well. Surreptitiously she touched the camera spectra portrait of her sister she carried next to her skin. Her sister was a galdor, a proper one, and she was the only person Aurelie trusted with her life. She still thought everything she said was true. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. What a vicious thing she was. Despicable and cruel. Maybe you are right about yourself, she thought. You are the way you are for a reason. The mona will not listen to you because you are bitter and twisted. The thought made her cold to her very marrow.

"...why do you care?" She asked at last. "Why do we, any of us, matter at all to you? Our troubles are not yours, why should you care about us?" She bit her lip at the corner, a nervous gesture. "Triston," and the grip on the book grew even tighter, knuckles were white, "I will abide by whatever you say." It was unfair of her put the weight judging this man on the younger girl's shoulders, but as she couldn't trust her own self, trust in others must suffice. At least whatever decision she made couldn't possibly do passives much harm.

Triston looked like Aurelie had just slapped her in the face with a very large tuna fish. That is to say, bewildered, confused, and more then likely questioning her companions sanity.

Fumbling a bit, she took a moment to gather her thoughts on how Aurelie felt about galdori, and how odd it was Triston managed to meet so many unhinged people in libraries. It was like someone placed an add for them in the local paper.

"Come on down, you get to make servants uncomfortable AND ruin your reputation."

Feeling she had starved Campion of an answer long enough, she spoke. "I don't believe we have anything to say to you," Here Triston paused, mostly to yell obscenities at herself for what she was about to say. "But...I know a place you could get information on the passives of Brunnhold, without having to interview all of us. Professor Moore, science building, parford wing. He has files, and if you ask nicely he might let you look at a few. I don't know how much information the files have on us, and I cant be sure he'd even approve of your purpose, but its better then harassing servants at random."

Triston had to fight the urge to cover her face in her hands, and scream "Don't hurt me!" at the top of her lungs. At the end of her little speech, she had almost sounded snarky. Her! It was an uncharacteristic action, likely brought on by the urge to be as brave as Aurelie.

He struggled with the words and picked up his hat, wishing he could succinctly and impressively convey to Aurelie his feelings on passives. Because you are us, our brothers and sisters, because I understand what it is to lose your parents because you can't be the person they expect, because you were so very nearly me- and believing that if I had been a passive, some golly somewhere would do the same for me is all that keeps me from being utterly disillusioned with my own race. They were selfish reasons of course, but they were the only ones he had.

So instead he put the hat on his head and shrugged, "I just do, Ms. Aurelie. I have witnessed how cruel galdori can be to those they think beneath them and I haven't enjoyed it," he smiled ever so slightly, aware that he was being as inappropriately flippant as usual.

"We really are a lot of rotters, you'd be well within your rights of course to give me a swift kicking in the shin for simply being born with a field." And then, more seriously, he added, "I'm sorry."



There wasn't much he could say to that, he had to respect their wishes, and though it hadn't been the most promising start- Eran had been very right- there were thousands of passives at Brunnhold, and at least one of them would be the passive for him, there had to be someone. So he inclined his head once again, seemingly conceding defeat.



"Files are filled with cold, hard facts written by the galdori- I have no interest in them and neither will a reader," he said measuredly, "but thank you, all the same," he gave a final bow and started to leave the library before hovering slightly, back stepping

"Oh, sorry, my manners- it has been lovely to encounter and harass two such spirited young ladies," he hoped it didn't sound condescending, "and, as I mentioned, I really will be here all week. Spare a moment's thought for my cause, just once and I'll be happy." He bowed once more.

Before a horrible thought struck him, and he walked backwards, smiling sheepishly "Urrm...out of interest- what I said earlier...about having me escorted off the premises, would you mind awfully not doing that? I mean I...I rather dislike being manhandled, obviously, who doesn't? Well I mean, I know there are some chaps out there who do like being manhandled but -" Simply to stop himself from rambling on, he bowed once again and once again made to leave, before another thought struck him and he had to quickly retrace his steps, yet again.

"Hang on, did you say, Moore? The fellow with all the experiments? You know him?" a rare touch of distaste crept into Campion's voice.

As a member of the SPE he had of course heard of these experiments, a few of his fellow members had talked about him most scathingly-Moore's exploits were fairly infamous and not in a particularly flattering way.

"Yes I do know him." Triston said, happy to talk about her favorite subject, and not sensing the distaste in Campion's voice. "I'm a volunteer for his experiments."

There were many ways Triston could have diffused the situation. She could have mentioned Harper was the kindest, most polite person she had ever met. She could have told Campion the experiments were painless. She could have stressed the fact that she was a volunteer.

But she didn't.

Aurelie stood bolt upright at that. Experiments? On Triston? "Experiments? To determine just what, exactly?" There was distate in her tone as well, and she didn't even know what sort of experiments they were. The very idea felt repugnant to her. What sort of revolting thing was this, and she didn't even know?