Magistrix Epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

A quiet library, lit only by lamplight; any trace of sunlight is long gone, slumbering behind the horizon. Her quill moves busily nonetheless, entirely focused on her work. The desk is littered with books and papers. There is a system; you just can't see it.

She looks up irritably, squinting at you with the red-rimmed eyes of someone who has forgotten to sleep, again. "What do you want? I'm busy."

The Exalted Scholar, Magistrix Epheme

she/her | mid 30s | 18+ blog, minors DNI

Diminutive in stature, but has the presence to make up for it. She does not have time for nonsense, but if you have information about something which interests her - magic, science, knowledge in general - she will have time for you.

Her studies are broad. Her books are her life. Do not touch them without permission.

NSFW is acceptable, but not necessarily the focus. Character is solely dominant, no interest in subbing or dom-breaking.

(Intro post is a WIP!)

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[solemnsword]

The Knight steps backward from the table, lifting the gnome off of it and holding it high between itself and Epheme.

"It refuses to tell me where it's from. Or why it needs the razkovniche." Solemn grumbles, absent of any real interest for the gnome. "I do rather like the thought of testing my throw-" they turns the gnome in their hand idly, testing it's weight, and the thing kicks at it's gauntlet pathetically. "...though I'd also rather not have to deal with a little army of the blighters arriving on your doorstep- seeing how feisty this one is." If the Knight had discernible eyes, they would narrow cruelly at the gnome.

"I had hoped you had a method of getting it to talk, before I- sent it away- lets put it."

[magistrix-epheme]

"Oh, I probably do. But I have better ways to spend my time than interrogating a gnome."

She leans closer to it, voice dropping menacingly. "You hear that? You'd better answer my knight's question. Or you're either going flying, or I'm using you as a test subject in one of my experiments. I wonder what interesting things we could do to you?"

[solemnsword]

The thing trembles, Solemn's gauntlet clattering with it- more fearful of the Magistrix than the Knight, clearly.

"PLEASE NO- JUST LET ME GO! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN-" the gnome shrieks, finally talking, to the Knights displeasure— so displeasured, in fact, their grip tightens on it. "ARGH- FUCK OFF WITH YE- METAL CU-" The gnome is dropped, falling, far for its height to the stone floor, bouncing with a grunt as it lands.

Uncaringly, the Knight sets its boot atop it, holding it in place. "Mind your foul tongue around my Lady, spirit." It does not bother to turn its helm downward to speak to it. "Now. What does a spirit need razkovniche for? What needs unlocking to you, if you could break into here?"

The gnome fails to speak, again, only doing so when Solemn begins to drag it's little body across the floor with their heel. "ALRIGHT!! STOP! FAE LOCKS! FOR FAE LOCKS!"

[magistrix-epheme]

Epheme tilts her head, fascinated. "Fae locks? Opening them, creating them? Explain." She has her teeth in new information now; there will be no dissuading her until she understands.

[solemnsword]

"F-...for opening, obviously. AGH-" Solemn presses its heel harder, making it squeak- punishing the gnome for its crude disrespect. "FAE HOMES." The gnome cries, then quiets, momentarily. "...I- I resell their trinkets- OFTEN STOLEN, TOO, MIGHT I ADD!"

The Knight brings a palm up to the forefront of its helm, leaning in a weary pose. "...You would incriminate my Lady with your pathetic schemes?"

[magistrix-epheme]

"Dear me," Epheme says softly. "I wonder how many angry, angry fae there are with homes which have been broken into and burglarised? I imagine they'd be ever so grateful to have the thief handed over into their tender, loving care."

She reaches out to flick one of the gnome's ears. "Or... you can show me how it works. And then I will very, very kindly let you go... after bespelling you to ensure you never again even consider stealing from me. Let's see. How about one which turns you inside out if your fingers get even a little itchy near my property?"

[solemnsword]

The gnome’s teeth chatter, and it claps its hands together pleadingly. “P-p-p-please no! I will tell you! The- the- the trick is q-quite simple. Oh Great Lady!”

The Knight lets out a rather disgusted noise, and certainly would have rolled its eyes, if it had any.

“All you need is the herb- place a stem into the lock, as a key- a bundle might be needed if the lock is big, o-or complex!” The gnome continues, gesturing the action as it speaks, as if that were the mystery here. “Then! You make a wish, and the flower roots in the lock! Open! Easy as pie!”

Solemn turns to Epheme, weariness plain in its voice. “I suppose we should be thankful, that such a plant is so rare. Now knowing the simplicity of this feat.”

[magistrix-epheme]

"Indeed. Useful to know, though."

She pulls an enchanted quill from her pocket, tracing the shape of a spell in her palm before pricking her thumb with the nib and pressing the bead of blood that wells up into the centre of the circle. The spell flares to life and she gathers up the light of it into a tiny ball, pressing it into the gnome's skull with one finger. Harmlessly, apparently. "There. Now you're bespelled. Get out of my greenhouse and don't come back."

[solemnsword]

The gnome fearfully watches her finger trail this sidgil across her skin, as it lights, and then presses to the top of its head- shaking so hard it rattles the Knights sabatons. Once the enchantment is complete, Solemn lifts it's foot- and the Gnome darts off immediately. Quick as a rat, scrambles up the table, and immediately leaps out of the opened window it presumably came in from.

Solemn stands still for a moment, perhaps shocked by the deftness of the thing. "...here's hoping that is the last of such intrusions." It says in a grimacing tone, inspecting the bottom of their boot as if it stepped in muck.

[magistrix-epheme]

"Better to let them escape so they can warn others to stay clear," Epheme says, dusting off her fingers primly. "Good work on apprehending it, Sol. I'd been thinking we'd have to put down traps, and they're so messy." She goes over to close the window, on tip-toes to reach it over the table.

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[solemnsword]

The Knight steps backward from the table, lifting the gnome off of it and holding it high between itself and Epheme.

"It refuses to tell me where it's from. Or why it needs the razkovniche." Solemn grumbles, absent of any real interest for the gnome. "I do rather like the thought of testing my throw-" they turns the gnome in their hand idly, testing it's weight, and the thing kicks at it's gauntlet pathetically. "...though I'd also rather not have to deal with a little army of the blighters arriving on your doorstep- seeing how feisty this one is." If the Knight had discernible eyes, they would narrow cruelly at the gnome.

"I had hoped you had a method of getting it to talk, before I- sent it away- lets put it."

[magistrix-epheme]

"Oh, I probably do. But I have better ways to spend my time than interrogating a gnome."

She leans closer to it, voice dropping menacingly. "You hear that? You'd better answer my knight's question. Or you're either going flying, or I'm using you as a test subject in one of my experiments. I wonder what interesting things we could do to you?"

[solemnsword]

The thing trembles, Solemn's gauntlet clattering with it- more fearful of the Magistrix than the Knight, clearly.

"PLEASE NO- JUST LET ME GO! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN-" the gnome shrieks, finally talking, to the Knights displeasure— so displeasured, in fact, their grip tightens on it. "ARGH- FUCK OFF WITH YE- METAL CU-" The gnome is dropped, falling, far for its height to the stone floor, bouncing with a grunt as it lands.

Uncaringly, the Knight sets its boot atop it, holding it in place. "Mind your foul tongue around my Lady, spirit." It does not bother to turn its helm downward to speak to it. "Now. What does a spirit need razkovniche for? What needs unlocking to you, if you could break into here?"

The gnome fails to speak, again, only doing so when Solemn begins to drag it's little body across the floor with their heel. "ALRIGHT!! STOP! FAE LOCKS! FOR FAE LOCKS!"

[magistrix-epheme]

Epheme tilts her head, fascinated. "Fae locks? Opening them, creating them? Explain." She has her teeth in new information now; there will be no dissuading her until she understands.

[solemnsword]

"F-...for opening, obviously. AGH-" Solemn presses its heel harder, making it squeak- punishing the gnome for its crude disrespect. "FAE HOMES." The gnome cries, then quiets, momentarily. "...I- I resell their trinkets- OFTEN STOLEN, TOO, MIGHT I ADD!"

The Knight brings a palm up to the forefront of its helm, leaning in a weary pose. "...You would incriminate my Lady with your pathetic schemes?"

[magistrix-epheme]

"Dear me," Epheme says softly. "I wonder how many angry, angry fae there are with homes which have been broken into and burglarised? I imagine they'd be ever so grateful to have the thief handed over into their tender, loving care."

She reaches out to flick one of the gnome's ears. "Or... you can show me how it works. And then I will very, very kindly let you go... after bespelling you to ensure you never again even consider stealing from me. Let's see. How about one which turns you inside out if your fingers get even a little itchy near my property?"

[solemnsword]

The gnome’s teeth chatter, and it claps its hands together pleadingly. “P-p-p-please no! I will tell you! The- the- the trick is q-quite simple. Oh Great Lady!”

The Knight lets out a rather disgusted noise, and certainly would have rolled its eyes, if it had any.

“All you need is the herb- place a stem into the lock, as a key- a bundle might be needed if the lock is big, o-or complex!” The gnome continues, gesturing the action as it speaks, as if that were the mystery here. “Then! You make a wish, and the flower roots in the lock! Open! Easy as pie!”

Solemn turns to Epheme, weariness plain in its voice. “I suppose we should be thankful, that such a plant is so rare. Now knowing the simplicity of this feat.”

[magistrix-epheme]

"Indeed. Useful to know, though."

She pulls an enchanted quill from her pocket, tracing the shape of a spell in her palm before pricking her thumb with the nib and pressing the bead of blood that wells up into the centre of the circle. The spell flares to life and she gathers up the light of it into a tiny ball, pressing it into the gnome's skull with one finger. Harmlessly, apparently. "There. Now you're bespelled. Get out of my greenhouse and don't come back."

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[solemnsword]

The Knight steps backward from the table, lifting the gnome off of it and holding it high between itself and Epheme.

"It refuses to tell me where it's from. Or why it needs the razkovniche." Solemn grumbles, absent of any real interest for the gnome. "I do rather like the thought of testing my throw-" they turns the gnome in their hand idly, testing it's weight, and the thing kicks at it's gauntlet pathetically. "...though I'd also rather not have to deal with a little army of the blighters arriving on your doorstep- seeing how feisty this one is." If the Knight had discernible eyes, they would narrow cruelly at the gnome.

"I had hoped you had a method of getting it to talk, before I- sent it away- lets put it."

[magistrix-epheme]

"Oh, I probably do. But I have better ways to spend my time than interrogating a gnome."

She leans closer to it, voice dropping menacingly. "You hear that? You'd better answer my knight's question. Or you're either going flying, or I'm using you as a test subject in one of my experiments. I wonder what interesting things we could do to you?"

[solemnsword]

The thing trembles, Solemn's gauntlet clattering with it- more fearful of the Magistrix than the Knight, clearly.

"PLEASE NO- JUST LET ME GO! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN-" the gnome shrieks, finally talking, to the Knights displeasure— so displeasured, in fact, their grip tightens on it. "ARGH- FUCK OFF WITH YE- METAL CU-" The gnome is dropped, falling, far for its height to the stone floor, bouncing with a grunt as it lands.

Uncaringly, the Knight sets its boot atop it, holding it in place. "Mind your foul tongue around my Lady, spirit." It does not bother to turn its helm downward to speak to it. "Now. What does a spirit need razkovniche for? What needs unlocking to you, if you could break into here?"

The gnome fails to speak, again, only doing so when Solemn begins to drag it's little body across the floor with their heel. "ALRIGHT!! STOP! FAE LOCKS! FOR FAE LOCKS!"

[magistrix-epheme]

Epheme tilts her head, fascinated. "Fae locks? Opening them, creating them? Explain." She has her teeth in new information now; there will be no dissuading her until she understands.

[solemnsword]

"F-...for opening, obviously. AGH-" Solemn presses its heel harder, making it squeak- punishing the gnome for its crude disrespect. "FAE HOMES." The gnome cries, then quiets, momentarily. "...I- I resell their trinkets- OFTEN STOLEN, TOO, MIGHT I ADD!"

The Knight brings a palm up to the forefront of its helm, leaning in a weary pose. "...You would incriminate my Lady with your pathetic schemes?"

[magistrix-epheme]

"Dear me," Epheme says softly. "I wonder how many angry, angry fae there are with homes which have been broken into and burglarised? I imagine they'd be ever so grateful to have the thief handed over into their tender, loving care."

She reaches out to flick one of the gnome's ears. "Or... you can show me how it works. And then I will very, very kindly let you go... after bespelling you to ensure you never again even consider stealing from me. Let's see. How about one which turns you inside out if your fingers get even a little itchy near my property?"

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[solemnsword]

The Knight steps backward from the table, lifting the gnome off of it and holding it high between itself and Epheme.

"It refuses to tell me where it's from. Or why it needs the razkovniche." Solemn grumbles, absent of any real interest for the gnome. "I do rather like the thought of testing my throw-" they turns the gnome in their hand idly, testing it's weight, and the thing kicks at it's gauntlet pathetically. "...though I'd also rather not have to deal with a little army of the blighters arriving on your doorstep- seeing how feisty this one is." If the Knight had discernible eyes, they would narrow cruelly at the gnome.

"I had hoped you had a method of getting it to talk, before I- sent it away- lets put it."

[magistrix-epheme]

"Oh, I probably do. But I have better ways to spend my time than interrogating a gnome."

She leans closer to it, voice dropping menacingly. "You hear that? You'd better answer my knight's question. Or you're either going flying, or I'm using you as a test subject in one of my experiments. I wonder what interesting things we could do to you?"

[solemnsword]

The thing trembles, Solemn's gauntlet clattering with it- more fearful of the Magistrix than the Knight, clearly.

"PLEASE NO- JUST LET ME GO! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN-" the gnome shrieks, finally talking, to the Knights displeasure— so displeasured, in fact, their grip tightens on it. "ARGH- FUCK OFF WITH YE- METAL CU-" The gnome is dropped, falling, far for its height to the stone floor, bouncing with a grunt as it lands.

Uncaringly, the Knight sets its boot atop it, holding it in place. "Mind your foul tongue around my Lady, spirit." It does not bother to turn its helm downward to speak to it. "Now. What does a spirit need razkovniche for? What needs unlocking to you, if you could break into here?"

The gnome fails to speak, again, only doing so when Solemn begins to drag it's little body across the floor with their heel. "ALRIGHT!! STOP! FAE LOCKS! FOR FAE LOCKS!"

[magistrix-epheme]

Epheme tilts her head, fascinated. "Fae locks? Opening them, creating them? Explain." She has her teeth in new information now; there will be no dissuading her until she understands.

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[solemnsword]

The Knight steps backward from the table, lifting the gnome off of it and holding it high between itself and Epheme.

"It refuses to tell me where it's from. Or why it needs the razkovniche." Solemn grumbles, absent of any real interest for the gnome. "I do rather like the thought of testing my throw-" they turns the gnome in their hand idly, testing it's weight, and the thing kicks at it's gauntlet pathetically. "...though I'd also rather not have to deal with a little army of the blighters arriving on your doorstep- seeing how feisty this one is." If the Knight had discernible eyes, they would narrow cruelly at the gnome.

"I had hoped you had a method of getting it to talk, before I- sent it away- lets put it."

[magistrix-epheme]

"Oh, I probably do. But I have better ways to spend my time than interrogating a gnome."

She leans closer to it, voice dropping menacingly. "You hear that? You'd better answer my knight's question. Or you're either going flying, or I'm using you as a test subject in one of my experiments. I wonder what interesting things we could do to you?"

[solemnsword]

Within the lush, temperate greenhouse, cries out a rather foulmouthed little voice; one quickly muffled beneath the glove of the Empty Knight. Its gauntlet tightens it's hold around the beast, squeezing the air from it- not too much- but just enough to silence it's blasted cursing.

The Knight, with it's other hand, flips thick wads of pages from a hefty tome, searching- searching... 'G' is found, and its fingers move quickly through the pages again, more thoroughly this time, it's index sliding down each one until it finds what it is looking for: 'Gnome'.

Something like a satisfied grunt can be heard from within it's helm, and faint dust gusts through the vents with it. "A rather pathetic excuse of a spirit- if you may be caught this way." Solemn hisses to the creature, one which still fights it's ironlike hold.

Then, the lattice door opens with a silent creak, and the Knight stills to the sound of it.

"You came just in time, my Lady." It says with a pleasant shift of tone, turning it's helm to acknowledge her presence. "I have found the culprit who has been rummaging your razkovniches."

@magistrix-epheme

[magistrix-epheme]

She makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the little wretch. "Of course it would be one of those. Well done, Sol. I'm half tempted to tell you to squeeze it harder."

But she leans down to scowl at the creature more fully. "You. You'd better hope that my knight here is feeling merciful today, because after the damage you've done I'd be perfectly happy to see you airborne. Perhaps see if Sol can hit a target with you at fifty paces. Those were specially imported, you know - hardly cheap." Still grumpy, she straightens up at glances at the knight. "What do you think?"

[pmamtraveller]

Woman in love with death by Welder Wings

[magistrix-epheme]

She can't find the book.

It's late, her eyes burning with sleeplessness. She'd told herself she'd just finish this section of what she's writing and then she can sleep - she doesn't want to lose her place, after all, interrupt the flow of thoughts. She isn't far from done. It shouldn't have taken long.

But now she can't find the book she needed. It had been here, she was certain - her shelves are organised just so, so that she knows exactly where to look at any given moment. She knows them like she knows the back of her own hand, and she knows the book should be here.

But it isn't. Worse, it's not that there's a gap - it's not that it was here and currently isn't. There's no gap, as if it had simply never been there in the first place. It was. She remembers it.

Groaning, she presses the heels of her hands into her aching eyes, pale and tiny and disgruntled amidst the vast darkness of her library, barefoot on the floorboards. "Sol!"

(@solemnsword )

[solemnsword]

Hardly far, in an unlit corner of the library, tucked away in a cove between the more esoteric scripts, and holding outward a large tome in its dark gauntlets, stands an empty suit.

In smooth motion, it's helm raises and turns to Epheme's voice- and closes the book. There is no need to worry about it's place being lost, the Empty Knights memory is as permanent as the notes penned down the margins, if not more so. It steps forward, the clank and scrape of metal echoing within its body, setting the tome back in it's original place on the shelf in front of them, before marching in steady stride across the room toward her.

The Knight halts, setting it's hands on it's hips and craning it's helm downward as if to face her, still and statuesque as it were before.

"How many books will it be tonight, before you decide on what will be the last, Madam?" The voice rings out of it's visor like a dull heavy bell. It's tone, while playfully lecturing, is still undoubtedly concerned for her.

It awkwardly tilts it's helm to the side, the metal creaking as it does. "How am I needed?" If it could sigh, it would have.

[magistrix-epheme]

"I decided what would be the last," Epheme says, somewhere between plaintive and annoyed. "Aylesford's 'Notes Upon Advanced Esoteric Studies', volume three. But it is gone." She throws up a hand to indicate where the book is not. "This is where it should be, but it isn't. So either it had been mis-shelved - and who would have done that! - or it's just disappeared, and I need another copy. I can't finish my draft until I've checked the references are correct!"

[solemnsword]

The Knight looks, and sure enough, it is not there- usually it is. "Hm."

The space on the shelf- it isn't- there's some kind of strange aetheric marring between the tomes, and it smelled like the floor below.

"It seems your copy of 'Infinite Infinities: Bags of Holding & Dimensional Pockets' has made a pocket of its own. Blasted fae. I knew that vendor was hiding something." Solemn grumbles bitterly, then reaches toward the shelf.

It's fingers disappear between the books, vanishing completely into the space- there's an audible thrum down the length of it's arm, an irritating electric buzz which ripples down to the floorboards.

Soon, the book is retrieved, sliding it from the shelf as you would any other- and the Knight offers it politely to the Magistrix.

"Here-" it withholds the book as she reaches for it, snapping it back to their shoulder. "Please, rest- after you find what you needed." The Knight says softly, returning the tome to her reach.

"In the mean time, I shall investigate this pocket further- see what else this 'Infinite Infinities' has swallowed up." It sends a menacing look at the shelf, brushing its hands clean of whatever aetheric residue has been left on them.

[magistrix-epheme]

She'd opened her mouth to protest as it pulled the book away from her, but subsides as it only withholds it momentarily. "I'll rest soon, I promise," she says, taking it. "... now I have the references I need." She pauses. "... thank you, Sol."

"As for that book - that fae was definitely laughing when they sold it to me. Perhaps it needs to be better contained..." She looks thoughtful - the warning signs of someone about to fall headfirst down a research rabbit hole.

[solemnsword]

The Knight rolls it's shoulders back, relaxing, or as relaxed as it could be being what it is. "Thank you."

It stands silent and still for a few seconds, before folding it's arms with a clank. "Leave that thought you're having for tomorrow. One that has a full belly- and fresh eyes." It says, pointedly, rhythmically tapping it's fingers.

[magistrix-epheme]

Epheme grumbles. "Fine," she says crossly. "I'll finish my work and then I will go to bed. Honestly." She smacks her book gently on its breastplate (affectionately(?)) and then stomps off to return to her desk.

[magistrix-epheme]

She can't find the book.

It's late, her eyes burning with sleeplessness. She'd told herself she'd just finish this section of what she's writing and then she can sleep - she doesn't want to lose her place, after all, interrupt the flow of thoughts. She isn't far from done. It shouldn't have taken long.

But now she can't find the book she needed. It had been here, she was certain - her shelves are organised just so, so that she knows exactly where to look at any given moment. She knows them like she knows the back of her own hand, and she knows the book should be here.

But it isn't. Worse, it's not that there's a gap - it's not that it was here and currently isn't. There's no gap, as if it had simply never been there in the first place. It was. She remembers it.

Groaning, she presses the heels of her hands into her aching eyes, pale and tiny and disgruntled amidst the vast darkness of her library, barefoot on the floorboards. "Sol!"

(@solemnsword )

[solemnsword]

Hardly far, in an unlit corner of the library, tucked away in a cove between the more esoteric scripts, and holding outward a large tome in its dark gauntlets, stands an empty suit.

In smooth motion, it's helm raises and turns to Epheme's voice- and closes the book. There is no need to worry about it's place being lost, the Empty Knights memory is as permanent as the notes penned down the margins, if not more so. It steps forward, the clank and scrape of metal echoing within its body, setting the tome back in it's original place on the shelf in front of them, before marching in steady stride across the room toward her.

The Knight halts, setting it's hands on it's hips and craning it's helm downward as if to face her, still and statuesque as it were before.

"How many books will it be tonight, before you decide on what will be the last, Madam?" The voice rings out of it's visor like a dull heavy bell. It's tone, while playfully lecturing, is still undoubtedly concerned for her.

It awkwardly tilts it's helm to the side, the metal creaking as it does. "How am I needed?" If it could sigh, it would have.

[magistrix-epheme]

"I decided what would be the last," Epheme says, somewhere between plaintive and annoyed. "Aylesford's 'Notes Upon Advanced Esoteric Studies', volume three. But it is gone." She throws up a hand to indicate where the book is not. "This is where it should be, but it isn't. So either it had been mis-shelved - and who would have done that! - or it's just disappeared, and I need another copy. I can't finish my draft until I've checked the references are correct!"

[solemnsword]

The Knight looks, and sure enough, it is not there- usually it is. "Hm."

The space on the shelf- it isn't- there's some kind of strange aetheric marring between the tomes, and it smelled like the floor below.

"It seems your copy of 'Infinite Infinities: Bags of Holding & Dimensional Pockets' has made a pocket of its own. Blasted fae. I knew that vendor was hiding something." Solemn grumbles bitterly, then reaches toward the shelf.

It's fingers disappear between the books, vanishing completely into the space- there's an audible thrum down the length of it's arm, an irritating electric buzz which ripples down to the floorboards.

Soon, the book is retrieved, sliding it from the shelf as you would any other- and the Knight offers it politely to the Magistrix.

"Here-" it withholds the book as she reaches for it, snapping it back to their shoulder. "Please, rest- after you find what you needed." The Knight says softly, returning the tome to her reach.

"In the mean time, I shall investigate this pocket further- see what else this 'Infinite Infinities' has swallowed up." It sends a menacing look at the shelf, brushing its hands clean of whatever aetheric residue has been left on them.

[magistrix-epheme]

She'd opened her mouth to protest as it pulled the book away from her, but subsides as it only withholds it momentarily. "I'll rest soon, I promise," she says, taking it. "... now I have the references I need." She pauses. "... thank you, Sol."

"As for that book - that fae was definitely laughing when they sold it to me. Perhaps it needs to be better contained..." She looks thoughtful - the warning signs of someone about to fall headfirst down a research rabbit hole.

[magistrix-epheme]

She can't find the book.

It's late, her eyes burning with sleeplessness. She'd told herself she'd just finish this section of what she's writing and then she can sleep - she doesn't want to lose her place, after all, interrupt the flow of thoughts. She isn't far from done. It shouldn't have taken long.

But now she can't find the book she needed. It had been here, she was certain - her shelves are organised just so, so that she knows exactly where to look at any given moment. She knows them like she knows the back of her own hand, and she knows the book should be here.

But it isn't. Worse, it's not that there's a gap - it's not that it was here and currently isn't. There's no gap, as if it had simply never been there in the first place. It was. She remembers it.

Groaning, she presses the heels of her hands into her aching eyes, pale and tiny and disgruntled amidst the vast darkness of her library, barefoot on the floorboards. "Sol!"

(@solemnsword )

[solemnsword]

Hardly far, in an unlit corner of the library, tucked away in a cove between the more esoteric scripts, and holding outward a large tome in its dark gauntlets, stands an empty suit.

In smooth motion, it's helm raises and turns to Epheme's voice- and closes the book. There is no need to worry about it's place being lost, the Empty Knights memory is as permanent as the notes penned down the margins, if not more so. It steps forward, the clank and scrape of metal echoing within its body, setting the tome back in it's original place on the shelf in front of them, before marching in steady stride across the room toward her.

The Knight halts, setting it's hands on it's hips and craning it's helm downward as if to face her, still and statuesque as it were before.

"How many books will it be tonight, before you decide on what will be the last, Madam?" The voice rings out of it's visor like a dull heavy bell. It's tone, while playfully lecturing, is still undoubtedly concerned for her.

It awkwardly tilts it's helm to the side, the metal creaking as it does. "How am I needed?" If it could sigh, it would have.

[magistrix-epheme]

"I decided what would be the last," Epheme says, somewhere between plaintive and annoyed. "Aylesford's 'Notes Upon Advanced Esoteric Studies', volume three. But it is gone." She throws up a hand to indicate where the book is not. "This is where it should be, but it isn't. So either it had been mis-shelved - and who would have done that! - or it's just disappeared, and I need another copy. I can't finish my draft until I've checked the references are correct!"

[lucybellwood]

hi sorry s'cuse me but were NONE OF YOU GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT BLACK BOOKS OF HOURS???

LOOK AT THIS MAGNIFICENT GOTH-ASS SHIT

EGADDDDDDD

THE IRON-COPPER SOLUTION USED TO DYE THE PAGES WAS SO CORROSIVE THAT THERE ARE VERY FEW SURVIVING EXAMPLES

THESE BOOKS WERE LITERALLY TOO METAL TO LIVE

i can't

[magistrix-epheme]

She can't find the book.

It's late, her eyes burning with sleeplessness. She'd told herself she'd just finish this section of what she's writing and then she can sleep - she doesn't want to lose her place, after all, interrupt the flow of thoughts. She isn't far from done. It shouldn't have taken long.

But now she can't find the book she needed. It had been here, she was certain - her shelves are organised just so, so that she knows exactly where to look at any given moment. She knows them like she knows the back of her own hand, and she knows the book should be here.

But it isn't. Worse, it's not that there's a gap - it's not that it was here and currently isn't. There's no gap, as if it had simply never been there in the first place. It was. She remembers it.

Groaning, she presses the heels of her hands into her aching eyes, pale and tiny and disgruntled amidst the vast darkness of her library, barefoot on the floorboards. "Sol!"

(@solemnsword )

[weepingwidar]

Fiona Finnegan (Irish, 1979) - The Seat (2025)

[gothredy]

[cuties-in-codices]

15th c. necromantic diagrams

pages from a necromancer's spell book, england, 15th c.

source: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Rawl. D. 252

[theserpentspsalm]