Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jannisari tapped her fingers idly along the edge of the book. A compendium of flower types, it was a dry and dusty book, and the words stilted, in a language she could barely understand. Vossanian. Usually the language was full of conjunctions and unneeded descriptions, but this was basic, yet near unintelligible. Perhaps it was a different dialect. Her lips thinned together as she felt a familiar throb begin in her temples. Perhaps it was time for a break. With a sturdy thump, she closed the book and slid it to one uncovered corner of her hefty desk.

With a sigh, she stretched out long legs under that desk then stood, chair scraping back with a shrill squeak. Soundlessly, Jannisari walked over to the lone window and leaned out of it. The sunlight was streaming down, pale and limpid, it brought little warmth to the cold air. She huffed out a large breath, amused by the way it lingered foggily before disappearing. As a child, she had pretended she was a dragon on cold mornings, the plume of breath a smokey warning to any knights. A frozen breeze crept over the roofs of Trisica and Jannisari shivered, wanting nothing more to be back in her modest rooms, fire crackling merrily in the hearth.

She shut the window. The small brazier in her office worked hard to keep the chill away and she was doing neither it nor her any favors in keeping the windows open. The chill delighted in finding ways to sneak past windows and shutter without her aid. She sighed, As much as Jannisari longed to return home and crawl under woolen covers, she owed it to herself to at least finish most of that dratted book. Btu maybe she could get away with something a little lighter before diving back into the world of flowers and scents.

A smile ghosted across her face as she sat once more in the large chair behind her desk. The desk was a solid contraption, full of small drawers and more feet than it needed. Jannisari's fingers slid almost covertly towards one of the smaller drawers, pulling it out carefully, bumping against an old quill before reaching her goal. Le Livre de la Cité des Dames or Ardenian epic poetry? Cité des Dames would help her Vossanian, but there was always something tragically romantic to be had in the poetry of Ardenth. Slim fingers finger fished out the equally slim volume, but just as she opened to the first well worn page (for she had read it many times), there came a knock on her door.

With a flurry of movement, the volume was shuffled back into the drawer, the drawer was slammed shut and Jannisari pulled the heavy flower book towards her. She cleared her throat experimentally. The knock was likely some wayward student, come to ask some asinine question... again. The trials of Silvius would have to wait. "Enter, please." The door creaked open timidly.

Jannisari's gaze flickered over the girl, for she was just a girl, less than half of Dr. Jannisari's own age. This did not spark any motherly urges in Jannisari. Aysel was, for now, an obligation, the beginning of a favor done for one slightly mad man. Her lips pursed. Hopefully, a flicker of intelligence lurked past those slanted eyes or this endeavor would a very tedious one indeed. The light lurked and hid around the girl, casting shadows into her already dark hair, shivering across her skin to highlight every nervous fidget. It wove into her hair.

And the girl was nervous. Jannisari could tell with every syllable that skittered haltingly out of her mouth. And, at her words, Jannisari looked fully into Aysel's hands, her sharp blue eyes picking out the differences in shape and shadow and the blues and reds lurking there. The shadows seemed thicker here, tangible, and the red formed itself into eyes that glowed from betwixt slender fingers. Her toes, safely ensconced within her shoes, curled in disgust. A Plague. Dr. Kempe had told Dr. Jannisari many things in his missive and yet somehow neglected Ilkin. Never let another do your research, she chided herself.

"Miss Vartanian. I have been expecting you. Please, sit." She gestured towards the chair in front of her desk. It was hard and plain, and wobbled slightly to the left. The chair served its purpose and that is what mattered. The knowledge of her task lay upon Dr. Jannisari like an unwelcome mantel. Like Hercules' ill-fated cloak, she waited for it to catch flame. She arranged her mouth into what was, hopefully, a suitably welcoming smile.

"Dr. Kempe told you would be coming here, yes." Jannisari studiously ignored Ilkin, for now. Later, perhaps she could study it, although its eyes were disturbing, unblinking, inhuman. Of course. Her eyes shifted away from the shadow plague and to her desk. She had prepared materials and laid them neatly in front of her. Paper was dear, but Jannisari spent her money on little else. The indents left by her pen were deep, furrows of frustration or impatience; she had always pressed too hard. Jannisari's days of broken quills would never be behind her.

"My understanding is that you are here because you wish to learn. What do you want to know?"

Jannisari sighed.She was frightening the girl. Reluctantly, she remembered when she had first come to Trisica. The arches and unending hallways had dwarfed even her height and, out of breath, Jannisari had felt crushed by the wight of tradition, of stone, of expectations. And with each year, Jannisari felt her face becoming more like the stones of Trisica. But this girl in front of her trembled and shook, her nervousness apparent in every uncomfortable movement. Unlike her Plague. It stared at Jannisari, eerie eyes unnervingly fixed upon her. Unease slid down her spine whenever she met Ilkin's gaze. Jannisari ignored him.

But Aysel's reasoning pleased her; this was a solid goal, something tangible to hold onto and let grow within. It could become a future. "Hmmm. Aysel, this is a good aim. If you match your heart's determination to it, I imagine you can do whatever you wish." Jannisari's thin fingers tapped along her desk, a tripping, lively tune. It was something she had heard from the tavern she passed on the way home. With the other hand, she pulled out a sheet of paper, silently purusing the list before reaching out to hand it to the girl. "Here. This is a list of classes thatI think would benefit you. However, I would like you to tell me what sort of education you have had before." She smiled again at her, much less strained this time. Perhaps they would get along quite well.

"Is that acceptable. Aysel?"