RP: Library Scrivening
It's Kesenday, Hattanani 20 18:34:56 1018. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and slack. Fair weather clouds sail across the blue sky, propelled by light breezes from the west. It's warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and dry.
A14: Quill's Repose, City Library
Raniq is sitting at a table, a valuable leather book laying open in front of him, surrounded on three sides by the necessary tools of scribal pursuits. He is writing in the book, and frequently referring to the open scroll. A snowy white ermine is crouched across his shoulders, keeping watch.
It is a bright day, one of blue skies, fair clouds and cool breezes... however this bastion of knowledge is defended against such, and instead focuses upon worlds within to compensate. At one of the old wooden study tables inside the library main sits a scholar of sorts, a large quill held in hand to approve a parchment as he pores through a tome of esoteric leanings, the dark skinned foreigner accompanied by naught but a hovering globe of light.
As the young Eldanar writes more in his book, the words on the scroll gradually vanish. Finally, the transcription accomplished, he looks up and inspects his work. After a moment, he seems satisfied and says to the animal by his head, "Okay, Herman. That looks like a job done, then. How about you hop off for a moment while I clean these things up?" The ermine stands, and stretches like a cat as it begins to walk along the wizard's arm towards the table, where it stands on all fours, carefully avoiding the ink bottle.
Some movement from the next table over causes the Cerenzan scholar's sporadic scrivenings to pause mid-scratch, his head rising fractionally to observe the Eldanar and his ermine, the dark-skinned hand splayed out upon the pages hesitation their downward march across the text he is studying, "An arcanist?" he inquires, his deep voice low yet avoiding being a whisper... for devotees of a page know that whispers carry further.
Raniq is nearly finished packing his things away when the Cerenzan at the next table barely utters a couple words. It is enough for him to realized that the question is directed to him, and he looks over at the questioner. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he reaches out to take the ermine into his arms as he smiles at his neighbor. He replies, just as quietly, "Guilty as charged, sir. If you'll let me beg your pardon, I believe we've met before, possibly on a job for the Adventurer's Guild, but I can't seem to recall your name." Approaching the next seat at the Cerenzan's table, he reaches out a hand and says, "Raniq, sometimes called Fairhair, at your service. And this is Herman." He indicates the animal.