"Pellinore."
The scholar's voice was a low purr, laced with amusement and a cloying sweetness that revealed how happy the skydancer was to interrupt the imperial's work. As expected, Pellinore lifted his head, blinking eyes that had not seen sleep in days, and were lit with a fire of mania.
"How many times must I tell you that I am not to be disturbed when I am working?" Pellinore cried, keeping his place in his notes with ink stained claws resting on the page. His mane was dishevelled and his cravat was an absolute disaster. Scattered around him on the desk were plates that once had held scones, and empty mugs whose bottoms were stained from the tea they once contained.
Kearns said nothing, perching on the imperial's massive desk, folding his wings and grooming his feathered crest nonchalantly, waiting for the philosopher to cease his ranting- he knew better than to interject, and honestly, it was fun seeing him riled up so.
"What do you want?" Pellinore finally asked when his rage had simmered down- though his annoyance didn't waver as he attempted to pour more tea from an empty teapot. Kearns snickered.
"Nocturnes, Pellinore. I found some. And apparently, one of the little Noccies that keeps others from turning into autonomous mimics has gone rogue~" he said, almost sing-song, delighting in the look of shock, amazement and dismay that flitted over his colleague's face.
"Nocturnes," Pellinore breathed. "Truly?"
"As true as any word that ever came from my mouth, dear Pellinore," Kearns said earnestly, resting a hand delicately on his chest. This solicited a snort from the imperial, who trusted the Wendigo emissary as far as he could throw him. Which.... admittedly, was VERY far- if Pellinore could CATCH him, or if Kearns didn't immediately flit up into the sky, so the point was moot, in any case.
"I know you don't trust me, especially after that silly stint with the serpenta and the questing beast joke, but this is real. So put down your books and notes and come with me to hunt this rogue Singer down, Pellinore!"
The imperial philosopher gave Kearns a scathing look.
"We need someone to come with us to mitigate our arguments- and keep us from literally killing one another. Not a task anyone is willing to put up with."
"I'll do it."
Pellinore and Kearns looked to the door to see the Progenitor there.
Galaad stood silently at entrance to the clan's library, looking at the pair with all the impassive neutrality he always showed.
"You two would kill each other, given half the chance. Kearns, you only have morality of the moment you're living, and Pellinore, you're too hot-headed to put up with him for long."
He cut off any protests with a Look.
"Besides," he said quietly. "I've been in the service of the Shadowbinder Herself, and she sent me back to protect this clan from just such a threat. You won't find anyone else more qualified to hunt Shadow magic like this than myself."
He moved to the door.
"Get ready. We leave in an hour."
if you get the character references I love you.
