morebooks (morebooks) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-09-04 13:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | adrien green, eleri lloyd |
Who: Adrien Green, Eleri Lloyd
What: Miss Lloyd gets a suspicion, and confronts her employer about it
Where: The Institute
When: 31 August, 1888 [slight backdate]
Rating: PG
Adrien had never really thought of Winslow’s often whimsical errands as potentially useful before; he tended to be sent hither, thither and yon on the lightest premise, and while he tended to resent the general concept of his trotting around like some glorified delivery boy, it did grant him some leeway as to how he spent his time, and where.
At the moment, he was currently using that flexibility to track Wilhelm.
Wilhelm was the scientist Merrick had fingered as knowing where his vessel was stored, and, presumably, being able to access it as well.
And if Adrien was planning on stealing himself a djinn, that was a necessary piece of the puzzle.
What to do with Wilhelm was another matter -- Adrien knew his sort could be… compelling, although he had yet to even attempt such a thing (and the thought that he’d have to practice first, and how, and on whom made him shudder a little), and if he managed to compel Wilhelm enough to convince him to take him to the vessel, there was still the matter of after.
His safest possible bet was to purchase a few airship and train tickets in Wilhelm’s name, and…
The second part of that, the part where he’d most likely have to either kill the man to completely cover his tracks, or so thoroughly wipe his memory that he’d never lead them back to Adrien was another part that gave him pause. The latter might be difficult, if not impossible, and the former… regardless of how complicit and cruel Wilhelm was, Adrien still struggled mightily with it.
At the moment, however, his path was clear -- one of the things he could do was to find a pattern to Wilhelm’s routines.
So he was trailing the man on and off during the course of his day, whenever he could snatch a few minutes, and see if there was a predictable pattern to it. It was a pity he was so easily recognized, but the subject of his trailing didn’t appear to overly pay him much mind -- he seemed quite absorbed in his notes, his tea, or his intent conversations with fellow scientists, from what Adrien could see.
Wilhelm was currently getting tea. Adrien noted the time and action in a neat shorthand, looking surreptitiously at his watch while he did so, and pocketed the notepad before getting in the queue for a cup of his own.
It wasn’t as if Eleri expected to know all the comings and goings off her boss. When the day was over, they went their separate ways, and never the twain had yet met. He’d never been over to her place for dinner, and she’d never tagged along for a drink. They were just… two very different “people”. The employee-employer relationship was cordial at best: very polite, but still fairly distant.
But Eleri was the sort of person who noticed things, for all that. So she had noticed that Adrien had been popping out here and there during the work day recently. She didn’t know where he had been popping to, but that seemed beside the point, and maybe probably almost certainly none of her business. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t noticed.
And he was writing things down, in a notebook. Again, most likely probably definitely none of her business… but potentially about her, perhaps? Was there something about her performance that wasn’t up to par, she suddenly wondered, some way in which she was letting him down that he was too stoic to just come out and tell her? Was he popping out to conduct interviews with other potential assistants, in readiness to tell her that “it wasn’t working out” and that he “wished her all the best”?
And just like that, maybe probably almost certainly none of her business became kind of sort partially almost excruciatingly Something She Needed To Know.
But he pocketed the notebook, so she couldn’t see what the little notes were about. Which meant she got to fret.
So she did her work as normal - another corner was starting to have the damp seep back in, so she stopped that in its tracks - but she kept stealing looks at him when he was in the office, wondering whether or not to broach the subject with him. She took the cup of hot water she’d ordered from the lady with the tea trolley - not such a fan of tea, was Eleri, but she liked hot water with a twist of lemon well enough - and gave him another questioning look.
Adrien caught her glance and frowned. “Miss Lloyd,” he said, quietly, getting his own cup of tea (milk to taste, no sugar, more for the illusion of warmth and to give him an excuse to follow Wilhelm than anything).
He noticed her looking curious, never a good sign on the best of days, least of all when he was doing something he’d rather avoid talking about in the presence of the person he was attempting to follow, so he took a few gulps of his tea and stalked down the hallway towards the office, hoping to head off any impertinent questions.
She hated when he walked off quickly, because it left her with two options: be left behind, or scuttle after him. She’d been laughed at for the latter often and oft. It wasn’t her fault she was tiny. She consoled herself with the knowledge that tiny or not, she was wonderfully proportionate - if she were five foot nine, instead of four foot eleven, she’d have legs for days and that’d show them.
Just who “them” was, she didn’t know, but the thought of them judging her and her lack of stature vexed her regardless. And she still had to scuttle after her boss, or risk being left in the hallway, in a place where not everyone was necessarily all that receptive to people who were not so much people.
“I think I can do the magic of the old scroll,” she said, as much for something to say as anything else. She knew full well that the chances of him letting her attempt anything from the Merlin scroll were slim to nil, but it broke the silence, and that was really all Eleri wanted. Besides, if she really wanted to try out some of the magic from that scroll, she didn’t really need his permission. She’d been the one to transcribe it all. She knew what was in there. It made her tremble, but she knew it wasn’t dangerous, just old and powerful.
Adrien grunted, and slowed his pace some, looking down at her and raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said, gruffly. “Just because one can doesn’t mean one should, Miss Lloyd.”
She’d been working quite steadily on the transcription, and he had to admit he’d been impressed with her diligence -- she could be a touch flighty at times. He suspected it was the task more so than anything -- that she found the Old Welsh and the content of the scroll an interesting challenge that spoke to her.
“And we still have not fully confirmed the provenance,” he added. He knew she’d been thinking of it as a sure thing, but his job was to try his best to prove that it wasn’t.
“What is provenance?” she asked, setting her water down and grabbing her word notebook from her pocket. “Another word I don’t know. Good though. I like to learn words.”
She might not have understood all the words, but she understood the meaning: he didn’t want her doing any of the magic on the scroll. She narrowed her eyes, briefly considering open defiance… but then covert defiance was usually so much easier.
She felt a little surprised with herself, though. Usually doing as she was told was no big deal. Adrien was her boss, after all. But then again, if he was planning on firing her, for a reason she still couldn’t work out, how much obedience and loyalty did she really owe him?
“Where do you go?” she blurted, then flushed. Lunacy, recklessness, or loss of patience - she didn’t know what had inspired, but the words were out there now.
“Modification of a French word with Latin roots, meaning ‘to come from.’ Provenance refers to its source. Place of origin,” he replied, automatically, before halting in the hallway.
Eleri was vibrating with an energy he hardly knew the source of, and she looked quite wide-eyed. He paused. “...I am not certain I quite understand your meaning, Miss Lloyd,” he said, patiently. “Where do I go… when?”
“Where do you go when you leave,” she elaborated, feeling more ridiculous by the moment. “You… lots of times… yn ddiweddar. Past soon,” she said, losing the thread of her thought and gesticulating wildly. “Soon, but in past.” The word she wanted was “recently” but it wasn’t making itself available to her, and she felt her cheeks burning with frustration as she struggled. She knew there were obvious red splotches. “You go, and you come back. Where do you go?”
Adrien frowned. “I am frequently called from the archives for a wide range of duties, Miss Lloyd,” he said, shifting a little on his feet. “You know quite well that Mr Winslow’s errands tend to pull me away from my work. What on earth is the matter?” He said, her distress, and her notice of his movements of late making his frown deepen.
“You write things!” she exploded. “You look, and, and, you write things! About me!” To her horror, she felt two fat tears splash down her cheeks. She knew they were only the vanguard. There were many more on the way. “You go and you talk to other... helpers! You write why they are good and why I am bad!” Oh, this was bad. Talk about flying off the handle. The handle was back in England, and Eleri was well on her way to China at this rate.
Her English failed her completely and she continued in Welsh, more tears sliding down her face. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but you’re out all the time interviewing other people, aren’t you? For my job? And you’re making a list of all the things I’m doing wrong so that you have a reason to fire me?”
Suddenly, she caught sight of herself in a sheet of reflective metal standing near the door. Was… was that her? That red faced, sobbing harpy? She sniffled, wiped her face with the back of her arm, and did her best to compose herself. “Or… I wrong,” she finished lamely in English.
Adrien wasn’t particularly well versed in how to handle a sobbing woman, and he was finding it no end of difficult to track the rather extraordinary conclusions she was leaping to, but he gathered she’d seen the notes he’d been taking, and had taken it badly.
He took out a handkerchief, and passed it to her, and, after a rather awkward pause, patted her briefly on the shoulder.
“You have done nothing wrong, Miss Lloyd,” he said, carefully. “I am sorry if I gave the impression your work was anything but satisfactory. I’ve been quite pleased with it, and would not have you believe otherwise.”
The part about his taking notes was harder, and he frowned. “I… I am working on a personal matter,” he finally settled on. “One that does not involve your job. None of my writing has to do with you in the least. Miss Lloyd, please…” he looked over at her. “For heaven’s sake, please don’t cry.”
Frowning, Eleri tried to follow what Adrien was saying. She thought it sounded reassuring, and yet the stress and emotion coursing through her tiny body made it almost impossible to be sure. “Use tiny words,” she snivelled, rubbing her eyes with her little fists. “You talk too hard. Always such big words, such flower words. You… remember not, I can’t…”
She glared at him, and gesticulated again. “You know!”
“Your work is good. I would not hire another,” he said, his voice slow and quiet. “What I do, what I write, is not about you.”
She was thrumming, like a live wire, and he knew someone who was more adept at navigating how one went about offering comfort to a weeping colleague would have handled things far better, but the best he could do was to wait for her to make use of the handkerchief, and pat her awkwardly on the shoulder once more.
“Miss Lloyd,” he continued, grimacing a little, “I am sorry,” he repeated, slower this time. “I am sorry to have made you sad. You are fine,” he added. “Nothing wrong. Nothing bad. Please. Maddau i mi.” His Welsh was quite limited, but he hoped it would be enough to calm down the Fae.
The familiarity of the Welsh brought Eleri back to a place where she could be rational. “So… if you don’t write about me, what do you write about?” she asked curiously. “You tell me, and I will feel better.”
As she regained control of her emotions, her natural cheekiness came back slowly. If it wasn’t about her, she reasoned, there should be no issue in telling her what it was about. “And where do you go, if you don’t talk to other helpers? If you still want me, why do you need to go?”
Her return to some degree of calm was a relief, her question less so.
“I cannot tell you either,” he replied, simply. “It is private, and…” the word dangerous was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to swallow it down. “...and were it not very important to keep it secret, I would tell you,” he settled with. “It is not my secret to share, Miss Lloyd,” he added. “If Winslow were to find out I was… going out from time to time, it could…” he looked down at her, frowning. “...It could cost me my job,” he ended.
It could cost a great deal more -- it’d dash Merrick’s hopes for freedom -- but he couldn’t wrap her up in something so dangerous. The less she knew, the better.
“You don’t… ymddiriedolaeth. You don’t… I can keep secrets! I am small but I am not a child. You should… ymddiriedolaeth. Help me! What is…” She gesticulated, but the word had completely escaped her. She scrunched her eyes closed, thinking hard, then opened them, her whole face lighting up. She’d got one!
“Trust!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “You don’t trust me!” But somehow, winning the battle over the word didn’t make the implication sting any less. “You can, trust me,” she said softly. “I am small, but I am not a child. I like to talk, but I know when I must not. I can help.”
“I trust you to keep this information about my note-writing and taking off from time to time to yourself,” Adrien replied, quietly. “I trust you with my job,” he said. “But I would not…” he frowned. “You are not a child, I know that, and if I’ve ever treated you with such disrespect, I would beg your forgiveness. But Miss Lloyd, this is…” he paused.
There was a decision that had to be made, and he made it -- she was a persistent creature, he knew, and a simple “no” wouldn’t suffice.
He sighed.
“Knowing anything would put you in danger. Significantly so. And I would not have you hurt. This is…” his frown deepened, and he felt weary. “I appreciate your wanting to know, I appreciate your ability to keep secrets, and I know you to be a decent person, but I…” he ran a hand over his face. “I would not put you in such danger,” he said. “It is best you do not speak of this again.”
“I can protect myself,” she said, grinning as she remembered and correctly used the word protect. Maybe she should cry at work more, if the aftermath was like this. That was two tricky words in a row she’d managed to use.
“I am not afraid. But you can keep your secrets. I will have my own secrets.”
She turned to walk back to her desk, to the task at hand. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ending the conversation, so she did it first. Inside, however, she was fuming. “Might put her in danger”, pah. She wasn’t afraid, and she felt sort of insulted that he wouldn’t at least let her make up her own mind about this so-called danger. But she was determined to “get her own back”.
She was going to use the Merlin scrolls.