professor wilde,

[peer---reviewed]

i with to know the unknowable. to see what no mortal has seen. to peel back the carpeting of the world and tumble into the stars

#peer---reviewed, a private, mutuals-only blog for professor emily wilde from heather fawcett's emily wilde trilogy, book based with headcanon inspiration, as footnoted by odette ( she/her, 25+, gmt-2).

carrd., meme tag, discord available upon request

[eclipscd]

it takes him what is perhaps an embarrassingly long moment to interpret what she wishes of him. he has, after all, just retreated at her behest.

his moment of still bewilderment passes, and though unconvinced that she ought to be back on her feet so soon ( but, really, what does he know? ), he takes her hand to help her to her feet with a truly gratuitous flourish and half bow. his free hand hovers, as if to catch her should prove unstable.

❛ that's quite enough for one day. we'll go back, you can have a rest ❜ — it's not that he's been looking for an excuse to call an early end to the day's work and retire for drink and good food, but he's certainly not going to pass up an opportunity when it presents itself — ❛ and start out again tomorrow. ❜ or the next day. there's really no need for rush.

[peer---reviewed]

of course emily will hear nothing of the sort.

as the injured party it is up to her whether to decide to continue or retire. as she still has full use of all nine fingers, and was able to let go of wendell's hand after only five seconds, there is nothing stopping her from completing what she set out to do today.

adjusting her cloak around her shoulders, emily opens her mouth and takes a step away from wendell, and then stops. well... she can't say he was right. but, perhaps, she can find a way to sit down again.

❛⠀ i am not tired, but i was hoping to talk to poe today, i didn't find him on the brook this morning.⠀ ❜

[dryadologist]

"Are you seriously asking me if it's the norm in Ireland to show up uninvited with food? Emily, I’d ask you if you’d ever been to Ireland - no, ever met an Irish person, but I know you have. I do wonder if you ventured anywhere besides your lodgings and the conference venue during your visits. Anyway, yes of course all this is normal. What isn’t normal in Ireland is being wholly unwelcoming to visitors. That’s a characteristic one finds in jolly ol' England, a country keen on rejecting any notion of hospitality.”

He would have continued to babble on, but decided he didn't want to continue down the thread of comparing Ireland and England, lest someone overhear and assume he's attempting to elevate tensions. He'd rather avoid mortal politics, especially in the workplace. The politics of Faerie are enough of a handful.

Bambleby reaches to give Shadow one last regretful scratch behind his ears and then stands, smoothing out the wrinkles in his trousers from sitting. "You could simply ask me to leave, Em. I didn't mean to offend you so profoundly."

[peer---reviewed]

feeling a bit chastised, emily greets his speech with eyes down-cast, resting back on her chair, uncomfortable with the emotion. ❛ how am i supposed to guess when you are actually going to listen to me? ❜ she says, leaning back on her chair. ❛ you so rarely do. ❜

there is a different sort of peace when wendell was around. not identical to being on her own, but not... not as grating as having to share the space with another, different but not worse, a peace she didn't know what to make, except to fight against it.

❛ shadow is glad you stopped by. ❜

[eclipscd]

ellie's tempted to retort that emily can find herself another test subject, but none of it makes any sense. a dryadologist, by very definition, studies the fae. neither ellie nor human musicians as a broader set qualify — again, by definition, though ellie's own fields of study might render her closer than most.

❛ no it hasn't. that doesn't make any sense. did the whole world break while I was asleep last night? did I cross through a door I didn't see? ❜ that this is some faerie trick to turn her around in circles ( though the suggestion screams 'paranoia' ) starts to look more and more like a plausible thing. ❛ what is going on? ❜

[peer---reviewed]

the world was the same as it ever was.

the human world a mystery, while the fae followed a strict set of rules. in each story, there were a set of instructions, a manual you had to follow to get the desired result ( or avoid another's tragic fate ). dealing with a nervous ellie grated on her nerves, but solving this riddle? it breathed life into her eyes, livened her expression; no one who accused her of having no emotions had seen her in this state.

for when emily got to be the first, she illuminated everything around her, almost like a girl in love.

❛ now, this is no time to argue. ❜ rushing toward her, emily twisted her around, and caught her hair in a fist and tugged.

[laurens-german]

Claire Fraser + hair down

[scarlethoodie]

Emily Wilde trying to get her hair into a bun once again 🍃

[eclipscd]

❛ ah, and having a moment to speak, you do take full advantage of the opportunity. ❜ to insult him, that is, and not to answer his very simple question. and if she thinks he hasn't noticed... ❛ I protest your use of the word bark. a dog barks, my dear. I do not. ❜ and she might well be the first and only to apply such a... unseemly descriptor to his voice.

and that doesn't even begin to address the matter of him coloring. good god. with no effort to suppress a sigh of a rather unduly dramatic nature, he at last concedes, ❛ well, since your ability to insult me seems to remain at full force, I suppose I shall have to accept that as sufficient answer to my question. ❜ unless she would care to deign to offer him a proper one, but he might well be waiting even into his own old age for such a thing. finally, he grants her the space she'd requested earlier and rises to his feet, though his gaze lingers, as if seeking any evidence that she is, in fact, not fine.

[peer---reviewed]

❛⠀ and now you are caught up.⠀ ❜ emily does not surge to her feet. something peevish flutters inside her ( instinct, ego, maybe a bruised rib ) but the risk of swooning into wendell's arms a second time in as many minutes keeps her firmly planted on the ground for a few restful seconds.

there is nothing truly wrong with her. this mishap does not rank in the list of field-work related injuries; but there is something wrong with wendell, she fears, eyeing him from the ground. he is stripped of his usual perfection, the red blooms on his cheeks, a cloud over his eyes, the worry draining the otherworldly qualities from him until he seems almost... human.

❛⠀ wendell,⠀ ❜ she says, raising up a hand, telling herself this was scientific curiosity and nothing more. ❛⠀ if you wouldn't mind.⠀ ❜

[eclipscd]

now there is a twinge of annoyance, of offense taken, in her scowl, although behind it lurks more bemusement than true anger. ❛ why are we discussing the relative merits — or lack thereof — of my artistic abilities? what is it with people today! ❜ first that goddamn tune, and now... whatever this was.

ellie's unusually good humor, temporarily set at bay by sharing her earlier frustrations, returns in full force, and she rises to her feet, intending ( with perhaps more melodrama than strictly necessary ) to liberate emily of her apparently lacking presence. ❛ find another harpist who can do what I do, and we can talk technical artistry. ❜

eliana knows her own limitations, knows the scope of and bounds of her abilities. there is eternally more for her to learn, and what would be the fun if there was not? but she knows too that she is good at what she does.

[peer---reviewed]

emily has little experienced dealing with angry people. she has plenty of experience encountering them -- one does not get to where she is in her field without shaking the dust of the old guard -- but she never engages. so certain of being correct, the professor prefers to offer them some privacy to deal with their issues before inviting them back for a rational discussion, saving herself a headache.

that is not an option today. her feet itch to turn, a headache pulsing behind her eyes, sparked by ellie's dramatics. ❛ it seemed an opportune time. i have been compiling extensive notes, if you must know. the topic of my research has shifted during the past month to the follies of human musicians, ❜ she says, tone smooth, too smooth. the words slide out with sharp, cold precision as she assembles the lie one syllable at the time, as the rest of her mind runs for a solution. ❛ and as my test subject, i need your opinions. ❜

the lie tastes acrid on her tongue. not because she is insulting ellie. no, she doesn't mind that -- she is saving her life, after all. but the methodology she is describing is highly unethical, it wouldn't survive a basic ethics panel, not to mention peer review.

[dryadologist]

"We don't, do we? I will agree that he is a very special beast, but have you seen the size of his paws? He seems hardly capable of holding a pen, let alone using a typewriter." Shadow glances up at him with those pleading old dog eyes of his before plopping his head back down atop the paws in question with a loud 'hmmph.'

Bambleby supposes he should soon head towards his own office and throw together some sort of lesson plan for his morning lecture. It's best not to overstay one's welcome in Emily's office. There's a point where her enjoyment of a friendly visit sours, likely when she realizes she's behind on completing what particular task she's set forth for herself that day. He stretches out his legs and makes like he's ready for his exit, but then she goes and tells him he's right. Well... Sort of.

"Like in most instances, I am right. Though I haven't a clue what you mean by lack of manners. I'm not insulting you whilst you sit in my office, having delivered me the finest pastries in all of Cambridge for breakfast. But that's neither here nor there."

[peer---reviewed]

emily knows how she should play this. this is hardly the first time he's swept into her office for no-particular reason and planted himself like a monument to nuisance until she chased him out the door.

what she should do now is look down at her notes, pick up her pen and write down some sort of note at the margin of her work. it doesn't matter if it's something brilliant or a nursery rhyme from the faerie colony outside of bruge, it just needs to create an oppressive silence for a minute or two. then, just as he begins do fidget, glance up, scan the room for shadow, and land on him with a polite flicker of surprise as if to say 'oh, are you still here?'. it's an evidence based dance.

but instead, she can't help but ignore the shift in his body and offer another barb. ❛ an office you were not invited to. with food i didn't ask for, disrupting a schedule you couldn't possibly understand. is that how they define manners in your part of ireland? ❜

[owedfavors]

it might well prove most useful as fuel for a fire if ever unexpected stranded planetside, una thinks dryly — though that would require a physical print edition. in its present form... she remains dubious. ❛ what he adds to pad the word count is not even more useless than the rest? ❜ at that point, it ought to be the primary content, and not the afterthought.

with a shake of the head, una reminds herself that she has plenty of evidence to affirm that she ought not to expect any such rational approach from this particular scholar. ❛ well, when you can make a piece of this useful to us, I will be impressed. ❜ she does not, however, promise to change her opinion of the man's work. ❛ for now, I am inclined to start from square one. ❜

[peer---reviewed]

a hint of a smile skitters through her features, softening the curve of her lips before settling into a glint of knowing in her eye, sharp as starlight refusing to yield to dawn. this should rightfully annoy her -- decoding wendell wasn't a skill she strived for. it wasn't even one of her more impressive skills. it slipped in like mildew, her brain storing his speech patterns each time he dropped in for a chat despite her closed door.

but there was something about being the one person who understood a romulan that made her pause, a secret thrill crawling up her spine. ❛ quite irritating, i know, ❜ she says, tilting her head to look at the padd, eyes snagging on something useful.

❛ i will get one of our older researchers - ❜ read: stogy, yet reliable, ❛ - to do the work you asked for. it should answer most of your questions. ❜

[eclipscd]

though ellie scowls, it's not in offense. ❛ all my compositions are inherently derivative — I'm not fae; I can't be part of their work. ❜ she can record, she can study, she can imitate, but it will never be hers and she will never belong to the traditions to which she devotes so much of her time.

besides, she knew the limitations of the composition in question, knew that though she sought to patch the gaping holes in a nearly destroyed manuscript she could not hope to do so more than moderately satisfactorily. it was ever a guess, an amalgamation, a prediction, a mimicry.

it was, however, a mimicry done for love and not for self-aggrandizement.

❛ what does that composition have to do with anything? ❜

[peer---reviewed]

❛ a better artist would not quibble with those questions. ❜ it was a shot in the dark. emily knew just enough to throw guesses in the wind, see where ellie's mind went and tug her in that direction until she had enough information to formulate a plan of action. ❛ or are you merely content to be a technical artist? ❜

that particular insult came from neither research or field-work. it came from a novel. a gift from her niece, that she had ignored for over a year, until bedridden with a cold, of all things. a technical artist, someone without genius or waste, whose vanity had given them application, but whose excellent could never give true pleasure to the listener's ear. the insult had wormed its way to the back of her mind, springing out now for an assault.

[generalsolo]

The cards.

[laurens-german]

Claire Fraser + hair down

[owedfavors]

the credibility that ought to be afforded by the title of professor stands in sharp contrast to the drivel before her — and una suspects that emily's non-answer is, in fact, a perfectly clear indication.

❛ and, I rather hope, my last. I suppose we shall merely have to do everything ourselves ❜ and ultimately, as emily has already reminded her, given the standards to which they hold themselves, perhaps that was inevitable.

and that ought to be the end of it. set aside the nonsense, start at square one. unfortunate to have to retravel steps that ought to have been done for them, but una was nothing if not pragmatic about the reality of a situation. she finds, however, that she can't quite set this one aside. ❛ how do you endure it? ❜

[peer---reviewed]

❛ there is a certain value to his meanderings, ❜ she admits, as there is no chance her words are leaving this room. ❛ to be clear, it will rarely help you with your present dilemma, but there usually comes a day when something he wrote to pad the word count proves to be of service. ❜ it was only in those in-between moments that he was honest, pulling from his memory to finish the job and be rid of it.

or maybe it was a ploy. he knew she read everything, a way to taunt her with what they both knew but wouldn't say.

❛ how do any of us endure it? you find a way to make it useful. ❜

[peer---reviewed]

emily as queen is just such a delightful concept. cause she both enjoys it and wishes to be left alone. yes, she is weirdly interested in the smallest problems presented by the court. she would rather die than to go to another party.

[peer---reviewed]

emily is coup proof by being the first competent ruler in fae history, in this essay i will -

[demolina]

SISSI (2021) · dir. Sven Bohse

[peer---reviewed]

emily as queen is just such a delightful concept. cause she both enjoys it and wishes to be left alone. yes, she is weirdly interested in the smallest problems presented by the court. she would rather die than to go to another party.