07.03.3013: Taste of Blood
Summary: Janelle and Nitrim come face to face in the Royal Library
Date: 06 July 2013
Related: None
Nitrim Janelle 

Royal Library - Royal Palace, Landing
Available in scene
July 03, 3013

It is late afternoon in Landing, and Crown Princess Janelle Sauveur has taken up residence in the Royal Library. It does not compare to the Academ Library, but still has a sense of soaring granduer that is befitting of the Palace Towers. It is relatively empty, save for a handful of guards who frequently monitor the goings-on. The Princess herself sits in one of the comfortable, but not overtly cushioned, chairs that is nestled with two others near one of the grandoise windows. She is looking over her tablet, scanning through whatever book she has decided to indulge herself in. She has a finger resting on her upper lip, her expression soft and unfocused as she reads.

Having been spotted often at the Royal Palace the last few days with business with Princess Janelle's handmaiden, Soleil, meeting with Princess Ophia's new handmaiden, Reena, and the tidings of a general, overall visit, Nitrim finds himself wandering into the library by himself. His long, heavy coat sweeps the floor as he walks, eyes immediately tipping upwards to the tall arches and immaculately-kept collection of books that make the Royal Library what it is. As his soft, dull footfalls bring him across the floor, he spies the Princess off to the side, and ventures to cross her path under the guise of being a hapless traveller. As he nears, he slows to a stop and lowers his head in a polite, formal bow to Janelle. "Good afternoon, Your Highness."

"Lord Nitrim," Janelle says without even looking up from her reader. She skims over whatever sentence or page she is on, and then she lifts her eyes toward him. Her gaze is unreadable at best, and she maintains a rather serene countenance. "I hear that your sister is settling in well," she offers in polite conversation as she gently taps her tablet's screen dark. She rolls her shoulders back a bit, sitting poised in the chair while she looks at the young Khourni Lord.

Rising from his bow, Nitrim smiles softly to the Princess as he clasps his arms behind the back of his long, black coat. His copper-jacketed claw rings wrap around his wrist and he stands tall before her, a slight vision of his father's posture. "She is, thank you Your Highness. She's rather fond of Princess Ophia, and I hope that the two settle in well together. My sister is rather excited to be taking up residence in Landing. I think she was hoping for a change in scenery after the snows at Niveus." He pauses, eyes tilting to her tablet before returning back to her face. "And how are you? I know how busy we have all been lately, I hope I'm not interrupting some personal time?"

If Janelle holds any annoyance toward the rather casual, conversational questions with Jevon's son, she does not let it easily betray her features. Her demeanor is polite, even if it is unsmiling. "I have enjoyed Niveus now and again," she offers as she crisscrosses her fingers together over her tablet. "There is no such thing as personal time when the Hostiles are at our door," she says — lightly. Though she does rather expertly avoid the question of her well-being.

"No, there isn't, is there?" Nitrim replies, frowning softly and giving his head a slight shake. His eyes bounce around her movements, quietly reading her body language while they talk. Of course, his eyes move slowly, having trained himself to not look too observant. "And I will say, if I may, that it is a door I intend to defend. They're rather tricky creatures, Your Highness, and they seem to have an interest in ambush tactics like they did at Niveus, which I saw first hand." And the young Khourni throws out his first hook. "I can only hope that my more progressive thinking, or at least my less forward approach, can be of service to the defense efforts. Outthinking your opponents, I hope, will be the key to victory."

Janelle arches up a brow, looking over the young Khourni with a touch of curiosity. "Progressive thinking is all well and good, Lord Nitrim, but our knowledge of this evolution of Hostiles is exceptionally thin. How can you outthink something that you don't understand?" She taps her fingers gently against her opposite knuckles as she maintains her unfaltering gaze on the Khourni.

The edge of Nitrim's lip twitches in a friendly look to the Princess, made complete with a slight upturn to his brow to make him appear just a slight bit humbled and embarassed. "Understanding them, Your Highness, is where my intentions lie. On paper, they're much stronger than us. By the numbers were are far more breakable creatures than they are, but they have a certain mechanical sense to them. Yet they don't have our wit." His brow arches, emphasizing his point. "They've spoken very little, but they have spoken. I'm of the opinion that if we learn how they think, then we can funnel them to where we want them."

The Crown Princess looks momentarily amused, lifting her gaze a bit with another arch of her brow. "I'm aware of their ability to speak Anglic, Lord Nitrim… the one you heard was certainly not the first." Then she crisscrosses her knuckles once more, her gaze unfaltering. "And why do you believe they do not have our wit? What proof do you have to support that assumption?" She looks patient, waiting to hear what the young Lord has to say.

Nitrim's eyes don't leave Janelle's as two of the same kind of creature come into contact. A rather non-predatory smile twitches at the corner of his lips, admiring her play against his words, a slight trapping beneath her claw. "Merely a theory, Your Highness. A theory that I will be testing in the days ahead that should lead to more information and proof that we could use to learn about their way of thinking. To them, our Six are obsolete and have been replaced, and they've held children up to the knights to test if we have the resolve to attack them and risk hitting our young. We may be quite more emotional than they are." He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, feeding her just a little bit of information. "With luck, if my investigations bring forth any useful evidence my Lord Father will see the wisdom of them."

"Theories are nothing more than conjecture without results, Lord Nitrim," Janelle replies smoothly. "And in a time of war, we cannot assume that theories are facts, don't you agree?" Her expression remains even and thoughtful. "What happens when Gods are replaced, Lord Nitrim?" She asks, posing the question without hinting that she might already know the answer.

"I do agree, yes, because acting on assumtion could lead to a fatal flaw." Nitrim replies in stride, refusing to bend the muscles in his calf and switch his weight from one side of the hip to another, which would be a sign of faltering. "New Gods cannot thrive in the presence of the old, as the old Gods stand as a place for the unfaithful to linger. I read once of an ancient word; Jihad, a personal struggle against old, unbecoming weaknesses." He tilts his head, finding his footing again. "The Awakened are dreaming, Your Highness. A week before their first attack they dreamed from the Hostile's view, killing our people…and then it happened." He lowers his voice and tilts an eyebrow to her. "On the twenty-fourth of June, they dreamed of two golden eagles on scales…" He lets that linger. Her father died on the 29th. "Information in this day and age is vital, nomatter the source."

"I'm aware of the Awakened dreams," Janelle says with a quirk of her brow in return. "Do you not think that the Knight Commander brings news from the White Tower to the Council, or that there have not been other Awakened sending panicked letters to the Chantry and Citadel? I know what you saw, but I simply do not agree with your intepretation." She offers him another relaxed smile. "Tell me, before that Hostile spoke those words to you… about the obsolete nature of our Gods and that they have been replaced… what did you say to it to incite such a response?"

"I told them that we would send their masters to the Devil, Your Highness." Nitrim sobers just a little as Janelle deftly retakes the initiative, leaving the young man feeling as if he ever had it to begin with. His brow quirks quickly and he nods softly in her direction.

"Ah," Janelle says as she leans back in her chair, finger pads pressed together to create a neat cathedral with her digits — something Symion was known for. She offers him another simple, gently curved smile. "So, you brought up the Gods… not them…" She arches up both brows now, opening her expression. "And if, by chance, their Gods are no longer our Gods, does that not make the Six obsolete?" She waits for a reply, allowing the conversation to flow organically.

"Obsolete and replaced, yes." Nitrim replies with a nod of his head. "It's not the implication that they may have gods themselves that I'm concerned with. It could be a concept. I could be a new ideal. What concerns me is that this one had enough gumtion to mention that they have been replaced. This suggests that they have changed, to possible difference, for what they view to be better. Replacement suggests betterment, and betterment, whatever that may be, suggests that they have an emotional weakness, too."

Janelle shrugs her shoulders. "Again, we are engaging in theory… conjecture… but if I could provide my own theory to the mix…" The woman leans forward again. "Perhaps the Hostile said what it did because you assumed to know its faith, and it lashed out… emotionally… at being told its actions are not blessed by their own gods." She starts to stand now, offering the young Khourni another simple, serene smile. "I remember a conversation I had with Professor Uthus Black… he was a Hostile Lorist… deeply entrenched in who they are, what they do… he said that we should consider the Hostiles as what they are at their very core… they are humans, Lord Nitrim. They may not look it, but if you taste their blood… you will taste their humanity." She raises her brows. "If there is nothing more…?"

"A very wise and educated viewpoint, Your Highness, and I would not disregard the wisdom of both yourself and Professor Black. Merely a wonderful conversation, Your Highness, no, there is nothing more." Nitrim takes a step back to make room for the royal, bowing his head deeply out of respect for her. As he rises, he again nods his head softly, making eye contact with her once again. "And please, know always that Your Highness has friends and admirers among the Lords of the Crescent, should her highness need of them." With that…he lets her pass and slips down further into the stacks.

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