06m Scene 2

Characters: Giselle and Fiona

The last few days, Giselle's been monopolizing a lab. Occasionally, that's included sleeping here. Or, more like becoming unconscious for a few hours while waiting for something to finish distilling or reacting. At the moment, she's face-down at a table next to a small rack of vials of various colors. At the other end of the table, where sudden movement by her won't upend anything, something clear is slowly boiling off either to thicken or just leave behind whatever's left without the liquid.

Fiona gets told when her offspring, nieces and/or nephews are here, especially if they're monopolizing a lab. Or doing anything remotely interesting, by Fiona's standards, of course. So, after a bit, she wanders by the lab, pokes her head in, and arches a brow. There's a tall well built male with her - brown haired and sober of mien. She steps in, and he does too, though he stays by the door, guarding it. Fiona does not get within touching range, but she does call out, sharply. "Giselle. What are you doing?"

Giselle startles, and is immediately upright. "Huh??" she asks blearily, apparently having been in a pretty deep sleep. "What?" She looks around to figure out where she is, then down at herself, perhaps to check that she's clothed. Then, she looks at the door, and Fiona. "Huh?" she says again. "What did I do?" she finally asks, as though it's not weird at all that she might have done something recently that she doesn't remember.

Fiona's lips twitch, surely not in a smile. "Niece. What are you doing in here? I hear you've been here for quite some time, without much explanation."

Giselle uhhhs as the hamster runs the wheel furiously. She seems to be trying to remember what she's been doing in here. On the plus side, she seems pretty sober. Then, "Oh!" She laughs a little at herself, then says "I was distilling some Mandrake. And river god. And Jadean. You know, figuring out which is which. Separating them." No big thing, right? "Been playing at that with some shadow people, and Amber people. This was my first noble blood. And god. I think."

"Distilling - " Fiona starts, and then stops. "You are distilling people?" she asks, startlement for once obvious. "That seems a tad adventurous." The custos by the door has brows that currently reach his hairline. Seriously startled. "Alchemists are very odd. What does one do with such a distillation?" Though Fiona can certainly conceive of things.

Giselle thinks about the answer, her head tilting one way, then the other. "Kind of? More like distilling bloodlines than an actual person. I mean, the goal is a person, but that's through the bloodline." Then, "You know, that thing I thought about. Distilling Oberon's essence to imbue someone so when they fix a Pattern the Pattern will think he did it so anyone can use it."

Fiona tilts her head for a brief moment, and then she says, "You're testing it. I approve. Who are you going to feed it to?"

Giselle looks at the vials near her. "What, this? Oh, this isn't good enough to feed anyone. Also, it's just one sample and still pretty weak. I don't think Mandrake will let me experiment on a bunch of them, to get something really well-rounded." she says then with a bit of a grin. "Apparently, they're funny about that." Go fig.

"Most people are, I would imagine." Fiona takes a breath. "You are keeping good notes on this experiment, I trust?"

"Oh sure, sure." Giselle says, in a way that suggests she actually is. "Anyway, I think it would be totally doable. I mean, a pain in the ass, but doable. Your generation wouldn't really need anything to help focus you on him, since you knew him well." She makes a face, and adds "An awful thing. But, a lot of the younger ones never really dealt with him. So, I had to think of a way to enhance that connection in order for an alchemist to absorb the Oberon part of each of them. So, I did." she says then with a smile. "A potion that strengthens the traits of bloodlines. The stronger the line, the more influence it'll have. The first batch was a little, uh, strong. I've watered it down."

Fiona considers that and nods. "I am not entirely sure I approve of this. Should it get into the wrong hands it could be devastating, but it could also be quite useful in fixing the Tir pattern. If it can be made to work, of course."

Giselle shrugs. "The cool stuff's always risky." she says with a grin. "If alchemy was easy and safe, everyone would do it. Not just the crazy people who don't care about blowing themselves up. "I could just do the distillations and storage here."

Fiona chuckles softly. "That is uncomfortably true, admittedly. I think this may be one of the safer places for you to do such things. Though if you do think there's a risk to blowing the place up, it might be worth adding some protections to the place."

Giselle looks around them, thinking about that. "Maybe?" she acknowledges. "I mean, it's alchemy. Sometimes things blow up. I mean, not often. And not really big things. But, you know. Oberon." She studies Fiona for a moment, then says with a sly smile "Wanna give it a shot? See if I can get some Oberon off you?"

"You might get some Pathi," Fiona says. "Which should certainly not be a surprise, if you get Clarissa. Have you tried yourself?"

Giselle thinks about that. "I haven't dosed myself, no. Or tried to channel that bloodline." She shivers a bit. She's always had that problem with Oberon, though. "I don't think I can be a good judge of what in me is from who, though. Easier to study other people and figure out what is from who."

"That may be a fair assessment," Fiona notes. "If you are sure you want to try, by all means, I will allow you for science." She moves over now to stand by Giselle.

For science! Giselle grins broadly, and bounces on her chair before standing up. Too much excited energy now. "Yay! Okay, so do you want to sit down? There's, you know, talking. So I can start to understand the differences to you, between Oberon and Clarissa."

"Talking," Fiona says. "That has never been my strong suit. Small talk? For shame."

Giselle shakes her head. "Not really small talk. Tell me about him. Close your eyes, and feel him for me." she says.

Fiona stares for a long moment. "There is not much to say. He is a powerful man who does not like to share," she says after a moment.

Giselle watches her. "That's all he was? There've been lots of those. What made him any different?"

That gets a slight frown, and then Fiona says, "He was charismatic. I think he could talk anyone out of anything if he set his mind to it. But he often didn't feel the need to try. We looked up to him so much when we were children, and I can remember some happy times, though they were fewer and far between the older we got."

Giselle's head tilts a little as she listens to and watches her aunt. "I can't imagine looking up to him." she says, fidgeting a little. Tell me a happy time?" she asks, looking puzzled by the notion, but curious.

Fiona's expression remains neutral, but her voice is gentle at least. "I remember when Mother was here, at the palace. There were a lot of parties and often there was laughter and happiness. I think maybe even Oberon was happy for a bit. Maybe. He married for political reasons, of course, except maybe that last wife of his."

Giselle isn't looking at or for something physical, as she takes this in. It's the idea that's important. "I don't think I saw him happy, but I didn't see him much." Probably a good thing. "Guess it's a good thing, when you get to be happy even with a political marriage. Do you see much of him in yourself?"

Fiona considers that question for a moment. "Some," she says. "Though tempered with my Mother's personality. I have his sense of practicality and lack of patience for fools."

Giselle nods slightly. "Did we get any of our temper from him do you think, or is that mostly Clarissa?" she asks. "I mean, I know he had one sometimes." She fidgets again. "But tempers are different."

"I think that's from both of them," Fiona says. "They had some incredible fights."

Giselle chuckles. "Can't imagine how bad those must have been." she says. "What else do you think made him the kind of man who was kind of the center of the universe?"

"He had a stubbornness that just wouldn't accept anything less," Fiona says.

Giselle nods. "What would he think of everyone half-assedly fumbling around in the dark like we're all doing?" she asks then as she keeps working on forming that idea of him.

"He'd laugh his ass off," Fiona says, without hesitation. She might not be correct there, but it is what she thinks, at any rate. "I suspect he rather did not expect to ever be gone from Amber, truthfully."

That's what Giselle wants, though. Those answers without hesitation. Those impressions that make a person real to another. She smiles, and nods. "Do you think that's why he didn't tell anyone the things that would fix some of this? Just because he didn't expect to be gone?"

"Maybe. I think it's more likely that he didn't know. I suspect a lot of the time he was making things up as he went, and I don't know how much of it was just sheer instinct." Fiona looks thoughtful. "Also I don't think he took notes."

Giselle thinks about that. "When you can stubborn or charisma your way through anything, you don't need notes."

Fiona inclines her head, shrugging delicately. "Precisely."

Giselle nods slowly, thinking about all of that. "Aside from maybe whatever's kept him away from Amber, can you think of anything that was ever able to stop him from getting everything he wanted?"

Fiona raises both hands, and then she says, after a bit, "Death maybe. But that would be of someone he wanted, maybe. Other than that, Nothing that I am aware of."

Giselle's forehead furrows. "Only death could get in the way of something he wanted…" she says, thoughtful and distracted for a brief moment, but then suddenly quite sharply focused. "Excuse me." she says, the gets up and strides for the door. Apparently, there's something she wants or somewhere she needs to be.

Fiona watches for a moment, as Giselle heads out. She shrugs, gets to her feet, and glances at the custos. "That went well," she says, wryly. He laughs, and then holds the door for her, as the two depart.

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