RP:Have A Grant
Summary: Samson gets a private tour from the Headmistress herself.
Smyth College of Bardic Arts
After finding your way through the Topiary Garden it would only be fitting to come upon a building which looks like a section taken right out of any castle in the same style as all of Schezerade, in all its decadence; marble forming the entirety of the large building accented with gold and platinum in which you'll have to cross over a glass bridge in order to reach it. The front door is welcoming for all shapes and sizes that are the citizens of Hollow and spans a great distance in it's solid French Door of a design. Opening it up one might be perplexed at the ability for the fortress to hold such music coming from the main hall there with all of the astute students practicing their talents. Once immersed, the eyes might be stolen by the gaping cathedral ceilings above, spotted by gold and platinum in which encircle mini glowing stones to mimic the night sky, but beauty is not what the ceiling is for; it carries one's voice in the most pleasing fashion. This main hall is quite a vast oval-shaped room, but the walls are shelves, carved into small diamond shapes. Each slot contains a scroll to nearly any song someone might wish to hear or practice in it's magic. Among the marvelous white-wood, gold-accented, concert grand piano in the middle of this large room there are a plethora of nearly every musical instrument imaginable, one just has to look.
Nearing further into the castle one's nostrils might pick up on the scent of mouth watering food being cooked wafting from the kitchen which is north of the main room and it also holds an elegant dining area containing a handful of small tables. In the corner of this kitchen there is a winding staircase which travels below where students are bustling to and fro. If you wish to stay, grab your favorite spirits from the well stocked kitchen and listen to the bardic magics, relax in one of the many luxurious sofas strewn about these two areas. Off to the east corner of the main hall, there is a locked staircase with an outreaching design in onyx stone overlay which is seemingly inking over into the pristine luxury you’ve found yourself in. It's as if the area above holds a darkness that's attempting to leak out into this little slice of heaven… Better just leave that door alone.
A white concert grand piano is here. Zachaël, wearing a chef's hat is here.
Brennia would not be easily spotted within the vastness of the main hall just yet, but for some reason or another there was an impromptu stange put up. On this stand some performances are being held by the students who already attend the college and supporting each other in their talents. The halls are decadent like all of Schezerade, but the air is light, friendly and accepting among the students bustling under the large ‘Welcome!’ banner. It seems there are some prospecting students watching and waiting or lingering around the refreshments table next to a lockbox labeled ‘Donations’. After a few musical performances Brennia descends down one of the curved stairs with a small group of people behind her to which she was giving a tour and leads them to the refreshments table. “This is where our tour ends and I hope you did enjoy your visit while you contemplate your future with us. Stay, relax, have something to snack on and I do hope I see your lovely faces when term starts. Merry part until we merry meet again and I thank you.” She would wait for any last questions before the clicking of her pumps brought her to a chair near the back of the faux ‘theater’ area in order to flip open her notebook in hand and mark of some tasks. Placing spectacles on the bridge of her nose in order to clarify what she was reading and straightening her high-waisted knee-length pencil skirt to which her while silk blouse was tucked into. Her hair was left down and styled in loose waves and her long pointed ears peek out between the black tresses.
Samson had come here, on Brennia's invitation from when they'd first met, to watch the amateur performances. He's gotten himself a snack - an ale, some caramelized popcorn - and enjoyed himself, really. Brennia's been busy with her tour, so far that he's seen, so he hasn't approached her yet. She's the only person he knows here, though he has another friend (an NPC) whom he'd been hoping to catch at the College. The guy's not here today, all good, Sam privately expects that his friend had stayed up too late writing a response to the latest developments in the space-wizard game and thus had slept in and missed the festivities. Samson is just debating whether he might ask about whether there are dormitories - so he can go harass his sleeping buddy in person - when he notices that Brennia's alone. He decides to say hello, it's the polite thing to do. It's rude to sneak up on women (also they are easily startled, some of them), so he says a well mannered, "Hellooooo," as he approaches her. He's not sure of how to greet the woman in charge in her element, they aren't exactly close friends but acquaintances is about right, so he follows her lead. Which is to say he'll shake her hand if she offers it, or kiss her on the cheek if that's her preference.
Brennia looks up to spot Samson’s friendly face and her dimpled smile comes easy. While standing up to her six foot two (plus some) height she takes the glasses from her face and folds them back together in order to hang them in the V cut of her blouse. That usual confident and sultry timbre greets him, “Sam, merry meet to you. How are you?” She leans down a touch (or not) depending on exactly how tall Samson is in order to place a light peck on his cheek before leaning in for a one armed hug to which he would be enveloped in his favorite scent. “I am happy you decided to visit and I do hope your travel was safe,” her large onyx wings seem to sort of shift very slightly here or there as if they were preening and in this far better lighting he may pick up on hues of forest greens and navy blues reflecting the light.
Samson | So Brennia remembers him! Samson returns her smile with one of his own. He has to wonder how she smells so good. Mysteries of women, he supposes. "Oh yep, very easy travel, and a good day for it," he tells her, his gaze meeting hers. "Really great student shows here," he decides to compliment what he'd seen, just to get the conversation moving. If memory serves, she's very senior, if not the head of the place. It's a beautiful environment, easy to see how it was chosen to serve as a college. He envies the student life a bit. He knows his buddy has a far more flexible schedule than he has, for example (but also his buddy can never afford to go out to eat, so). "I have a friend actually who's a student here," he decides to mention, looking out into the clusters of people talking. "He speaks highly of the place."
Brennia is beaming, “really?? What is his name and what has he said?” Just after he answers her head chef, Zachael, apologetically interrupts in their native tongue. Brennia gently places a hand on Samson’s bicep in a gesture to tell him to hold on one minute, but don't you dare go anywhere. Zachael states something quickly before a question is posed and this causes Brennia to look over her shoulder at the refreshments table. Her reply comes smoothly and melodically which most likely stirs an odd combination of relaxation and arousal the way her sultry alto timbre and accent compliment the romantic language. Whatever she said was probably undeniably beautiful and not at all about adding pig fat rolls (bacon wraps) or cheesy tots to the food area. This answer gets a nod and a bow from Zachael and another apology before the fellow Avian makes his way back to the kitchens. “Apologies, Sam. Would you like a tour?” Her hand had failed to drop from her gentle touch on his arm as if it were resting there for the time being and if he was observant he would have noticed that there was not another group of potential students waiting to be toured. She means to show him around one on one. “Even if you don't plan on attending, you can know what you're missing out on.” She winks at him playfully.
Samson | "His name is Aaron Anderson, and he's studying guitar, loves his instructor--" Samson is quick to offer helpfully, though his reply is truncated by the appearance of Zachael, and an exchange that occurs in a beautiful language. She's still touching his arm, he realizes, a moment into this. One of those flirty women who thinks nothing of touching (more or less) strangers, he thinks, feeling a little flattered. It's nice when a beautiful woman shines her sun on you. This exchange in French is a pleasure to listen to although Sam has no idea what is being said. He politely smiles and waits out the issue, glancing around him with interest, his gaze turning back to Brennia when it becomes apparent that she's ready for him again. A tour, he glances around for the others who are to accompany him. Hmm... there's no one there. He assumes, good naturedly, that she means to start said tour momentarily, at an appointed time, with a crowd of people. "That sounds great," he tells her, genuinely interested and having nothing better on his calendar for the day besides putzing around and possibly answering space-wizard mails. "When is the tour starting?" he asks.
Brennia chuckles shortly and softly while she thinks on how innocent and unassuming he is. A half a second she feels the desire to darken his purity, just a couple drops won't hurt, right? The moment is gone after she blinks just once, slowly while mentally shoving Raven back into her corner. “Next week, but I'll squeeze in an extra for you,” even cleaner minds would have taken this the wrong way, but she clears her throat gently before her pumps lead in the way in a sort of saunter. “This is the main hall where any and all are welcome and where we receive guests. Usually a grand white piano is where the stage is, but for today I wanted to showcase the students collective talents. Mostly all of the walls here are carved into shelves to hold my vast library of sheet music.” Once he caught up to her, if he wanted to that is, she would make sure to glance over (or back) to him in pauses for any questions. By now they reached a door off to the east of the room and she walks out the open French doors into the cobblestone courtyard, “here students come to relax in the fresh air to paint,” she motions to empty easels, “read,” she then motions to one of the many gazebos, bench areas and small gardens, “or train.” She was walking the length of the building which brought them to another set of French doors, but on his corner of the courtyard there are dummies set up and even some targets up in trees. When they enter back into the main hall they are now in the back where the kitchens are and the smell of delectable food would hit him immediately, “this is the kitchen where Zachael spends most of his time yelling at his staff.” Another chuckle to prove she was joking, sort of, and he might spot two trays of bacon wraps and cheesy tots. They come to a spiral staircase which goes down, but beyond that he could spot a dining canteen which contains a plethora of different seating tables for all sizes and races. Once they descend down the spiral staircase they end up in the common area of the dorms which is filled with different cubicles for study purposes and a corridor on each wall going north, south, east, west. It takes a moment to realize, but all the hustle and bustle of the upstairs is completely cut off from the area down here and he may notice that it's actually rather vacant and they are very alone in the silence. Her voice is a bit softer without the obstruction and in such silence he will be able to detect a hint of raspiness under her sultry voice, “this is where students come to write or select their reading material.” She motions to the fact that the marble walls are actually carved into bookshelves and this rather large space of its own is wall to wall with literature. The desks have stacks of blank parchment on them and each desk has one of those specially enchanted quills that retain ink so you don't have to bother with messy ink bottles. “Each corridor is specialized by sizes in order to accommodate each race and they even have their own washrooms. Soprano,” she motions to the east corridor, “is for the smaller races, such as pixies, gnomes and elves.” She motions to the corridor to the south, “while Bass has rooms fit for giants, dragons and Avians.” In their lonesome silence those Liberty blues look to him to gauge his reactions and answer any questions even though the tour wasn't over just yet.
Samson puts his hands in his pockets, opening his mouth and about to tell Brennia there's no need to go out of the way on his part, but she's already doing it, so he follows the click of her heels. It's like a metronome, almost. "I love libraries," he says, and then judges himself immediately. Who says 'I love libraries' to women? A little awkward, at times. He decides to more aggressively vet any further remarks, because that had been a poor effort. The grounds are, of course, well appointed and impressive, so he ends up saying, "Very nice," lamely, but at least not cringing at himself. He keeps his eyes peeled for Aaron, who is nowhere to be seen. Dude is probably wake and baking, that's his style. He considers, very seriously, stealing a bacon-based food from the kitchen, but opts against doing so after getting an eyeball from a sous-chef. He regrets not having acted faster, before the guy saw him. In any event, they move downstairs, to the dormitories, and it's eerily quiet. It does seem a serious place, for serious bardic studies. Sam has a moment where he regrets having pursued a simpler trade (if you can call passively remaining put in the same job "pursuing") and not attending school like many of his peers. He glances in the direction of the two hallways that Brennia's just indicated. "Soprano... Bass... if memory serves, we're missing Alto and Tenor?" he offers her a cheeky smile, like he's trying to ace an unspoken quiz here.
Brennia nods, “Alto,” a motion to the north corridor, “and Tenor,” she motions to the west corridor, “for all the races in between.” Picking up one of the enchanted quills she holds it out to him after closing nearly all of the space between them, “ever used one of these? A real lifesaver some days.” Once he may take it to inspect it she will cooly offer, “keep that one if you’d like.” They are close, but not overly so and her liberty blue eyes peer kindly into his brown ones. She can sense something happening in this moment; allowing the air to become dead as if developing a screaming silence and this slight anticipation of desire to break the silence. Is she attracted to his seemingly mundane way of being/living? Possibly. Finally breaking the quiet, “classrooms.” Leading the way once more and up the staircase they will go, but when they came back up into the kitchens there is an even tastier hors d'oeuvres on a queue platter. She quickly swipes up two (as if the cooking staff would care) and even encourages Sam to steal one or two after a wink. Moving on after shamelessly stuffing her face she makes her way to the second floor balcony which looks over the first story within the main hall. After peering into the guitar lessons classroom which doesn't have any desks, but an array of sofas and lounges among guitar cases, the potions class (which looks like it’s suffered more than a few fires), and the two other popular classrooms. She finally reaches her own classroom, which is also vacant. The heavy classroom door closes itself behind them and she makes her way down the raised seating of the room in order to sit herself atop her own desk. “Aside from the living quarters here I do heavily suggest my students to get out and explore this city. There is a university in Schezerade and a hot springs right next door, but the gardens are most inspiring.” It really shows that she makes a great effort to create a relaxed and accepting environment, “your thoughts?”
Samson | "Ah," says Samson, who now makes the connection between the hallway names and the races who reside in the dormitories therein. He takes the enchanted quill she's holding at him, and looks at it, since it's the polite thing to do and he hasn't, in fact, seen one before. A second into this, and he's conscious that they're alone, and she's close, and a lot of silence has installed itself around this seemingly ho-hum event, which is him looking at an enchanted quill. It's... just an enchanted quill! That's all! "Thanks," he says, talking at the same time she says "classrooms." He puts the quill in his pocket, where it will probably leak and create a stain, but that's of lesser concern at the moment. "Right," he adds, falling into step behind Brennia, and is grateful when she encourages him to steal some eats. He does, without missing a beat, though he's careful not to get any on the carpeting. (Sam is well trained and reasonably clean, as far as human men go.) He looks for his friend in the guitar classroom, and the guy's not there. Yeah, definitely slacking for the day, that sounds about right. Oh, to be a 'creative,' and shrug off responsibility without a care. He can see the appeal, but he can only channel his creativity into writing space-wizards, he can't hack it for real. He's just reflecting on that when Brennia asks him for his views on the whole shebang here, he quite honestly is impressed with it and says so, "It feels like a vacation except for learning purposes. No wonder my buddy loves it." He smiles mildly, rubbing his face in thought. "I don't think I'd want to go back to dirty and crowded Cenril afterwards either."
Brennia tucks some of her silky black hair behind an elongated pointed ear just as one tattooed leg crosses over the other under the tight fit of her skirt and leans a hand on the desk she's sitting upon. “Dirty and crowded Cenril? That it may be, but I still find it charming,” she mentions in a way that made them seem like complete equals and her gaze confidently relaxed on Sam. “I actually have some friends that -do- vacation here… You could as well if you wanted to,” but he already knew this as she's suggested such before. “Other than that… I know talent when I see it and I understand comfort zones more than others assume. I don't usually point things like this out for it's none of my business, but you -are- human and life is short. So, if there is something you desire you should go for it and I hope this old lady,” she points to herself, “isn't sounding too cliche and you at least hear me out.” The tone she takes on is light in her advice and she makes a point to not be pushy either, even adding in a subtle shrug. “Enrollment is always open, but I've taken a quick liking to you so if you want to just come by as much as you please then that's fine by me too.” A soft chuckle in a waiver of her confidence when she gently drops her hand on her lap her gaze follows before a soft ending to her little unwarranted lecture, “that's all...” She sort of feels foolish telling someone what to do with their life, but she is only looking out for his interests.
Samson grins at Brennia's calling Cenril 'charming.' "Well, it's home," he says, in the verbal equivalent of a shrug. His parents are classic retirees: moved to Chartsend as soon as they could after selling their business. He should write them, come to think of it... he'll do it when he gets home, he resolves. (He will forget, which is what happened the last time, and the time before that.) Brennia is now encouraging him to consider going back to school. Ah, the hard sell. He chuckles and nods along awkwardly, should have seen this coming. Of course, it's too much to think that she was in it for his company. "That's very kind of you," he says, meeting her gaze. "I'll think about it, thank you," he adds, warmly. He means that, though the sum of his thinking is likely to be weighed down by inertia. He's not an ambitious guy. If XBOX existed in Lithrydel, he would definitely be the type of guy who worked, came home, made dinner, played a little Call of Duty with his friends, and on the weekend went out to catch live music and see shows. Still, the idea of going back to school and doing more than working in a funeral parlor has a certain appeal, he's just unlikely to ever pull the trigger. (We all know people like this, don't we.) "What would you recommend I study here?" he asks, because he's curious.
Brennia does like his company, but somehow it feels wrong to like it so she had to come up with a reason, but they are still alone in the quiet of her own classroom and she hasn't moved from atop that desk. She could have moved out of their private space by now… long before now. She answers his question with kind smile while making sure to not sound too excited, like scaring off a wild animal, “Professor Valios teaches a really good course on playwriting. I teach Interpretations, my students and I really have gotten into some deep conversations about poems I've chosen to go over. I've recently recruited a writer into the Bard’s guild so maybe I can convince him to teach what he knows.” She finally looks back up to rest her gaze upon him, “but in my opinion writers don't actually learn from strict courses. They write what they know because you either have it or don't. If you want to learn more, we have courses, but I think I would want to workshop if I were you. Just relaxing and getting inspirations from travels on assistance from a grant.” She realizes she just got carried away and her cheeks darken slightly before she clears her throat gently in order to add quietly, “just some thoughts.” Looking away again, was she nervous? That's cute.
Samson had expected her to push him in a different direction of study - a bard's college, after all - so his eyes widen when she suggests that he study writing. "Oh," he says, the word injected with his surprise. "Huh, that's an idea," he adds, a beat later. It would be something to write for real. It feels like a pipe dream, but here's someone encouraging him, who's telling him it's not. He is a little baffled by Brennia's sudden shift in demeanor. Why is she .. is she blushing? Is his fly (or whatever doubles as a fly in Lithrydel) down? He tries to covertly check. (Hmm, no, he's good.) He concludes that the most likely explanation now is that he's lingering, imposing on her time, and it's awkward. He should excuse himself. But then... she'd taken up so much of her own time to show him around, and not rushed him either. Something doesn't add up. "Well," he exhales, "I should let you get back to it all. I might go pay a visit to Aaron, actually. Thanks so much, again."
Brennia slides off the edge of her desk after running her lanky nimble fingers through her hair and pushing it all to one side. The slow clicking of her heels saunter closer and closer towards him in order to close the distance between them once more. She just offered this perfect stranger to travel across Lithrydel on the college's dime to pursue his passion, what was wrong with her? She wants to solve the mystery that is Samson, but send him away at the same time? Those large onyx wings shift and fold tighter to her curvy frame as if she were trying to be more petite, take up less space. He probably likes short girls better, younger ones that have more time on their hands and less time clocked on their hearts… Warm smile remaining and any self doubt she was feeling in this moment was not detectable, “I am pleased you've decided to stop by and maybe next time you come around I give you a tour of all the secret passages.” The last bit was said in a whisper and an unnecessary lean in, because no one was in there with them, but she was just being playful. “Hm, I think you might wander to the hot springs. I believe I've overheard him saying once that he likes to really get a ‘clambake’ going in there.” A soft raspy and short chuckle at this, which proves she doesn't mind the herbal relaxation tactics. Her hand gently placed on his bicep once more, “no need to thank me. Thank you and I do hope to be seeing more of you, Sam.” Leaning in she places a soft and supple kiss on his cheekbone, maybe a second or two of lingering before giving him a light hug like she did on their first meet.
Samson had maybe missed the implications of the workshop scholarship, had interpreted it to be more of an apply-and-we'll-see suggestion, because that fits more in line with his opinion of himself. This is consistent with how he's been interpreting Brennia thus far, as generously mentoring him, as opposed to covertly making passes at him. That interpretation hits a wall when she makes this suggestive remark about 'secret passages.' He looks at her in a different way after that. Really? Him? Had he imagined that? It's sort of unbelievable but also very flattering, and in the moment he blushes rather obviously as she kisses his cheek. Oy, beware the attractive she-wolves, they come out of nowhere! Apparently, when it comes to him and women, when it rains, it pours. He needs to regroup and sort himself out, he's a little flustered. "Of course," he says quickly, offering her a boyish smile as he attempts to land on his feet here. "Thanks for the heads up, I'll uh... check there. Thanks again." OK, stop saying thanks. He nods, awkwardly, heading to the door of the classroom. "Really, thanks." …
Brennia smirks and waves goodbye to him. It would be easy enough to find his way to the lavish hot spring and sure enough he would find who he is looking for. Aaron would probably get on the subject of the headmistress’ hotness and how unattainable she is, but that doesn't stop students from always making passes at her. He would go on about a half baked theory that she must have to turn away at least ten students a week, but that she's always super nice about it and don't even try to tell him she just hit on Sam. Even though he isn't a student, he couldn't have been hat thick that he missed a come on from Professor ‘Fyne’Smyth (yes that's a nickname for her among some students, but ‘sh!!’ because she doesn't know!) All in good fun, but Aaron isn't having that noise and he suggests Sam should just relax with him while hanging out with some fine college tail. Baking and bathing with some good music.