(122-01-16) Old Scroll Researches
Old Scroll Researches
Summary: Lord Carolis Pokes about the old scroll room.
Date: Date of play (16/01/122)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-04-28-the-riders

The wounds from the Great Book Brawl have healed, but not wounded feelings. The Maesters are grouchy and prone to eyeing each other suspiciously. There is still much activity in history, pharmacology, and Valyrian language sections.

Carolis has been coming in regularly, more so even than before, because if there is one thing cats are drawn to, it's old dogs fighting. That and forbidden things. He's been hitting history pretty hard lately. It is his area of expertise. The language section has gotten its fill of his attention. Today, however, pharmacology draws his interest. It's the area he's least versed in, of the three, and so it's been wanting.

Apparently the old codgers are really interested in medicinal plants and poisons from southern Essos, particularly places like Quarth and Astropor. Most of the travelogues and pharmacopoeias in the main library are divided up and jealously guarded. The Old scroll room, being mostly archaic and mostly dead languages is less popular. That researcher who's desk was full of research, but who wasn't there, it's there again today. He has a poem about plants on his desk in Old High Valyrian, with little illustrations and ancient dragon doodles in the margins.

Carolis has brought his journal, and he's always got a quill and inkwell when he's visiting the Citadel. He glances up and around, and he listens for footsteps. He cased the place coming in as well. When he's reasonably sure he's alone, he goes to a blank page in his journal, and he begins jotting down the Old High Valyrian words, mindful to get the letters exact. The illustrations are glanced at, but he's more concerned with getting the notes down quickly.

Luckily, the few Maesters and acolytes in the land of crumbling scrolls are mostly intent on their work. A particularly desiccated specimen glares at Carolis and hisses "Shhhh!"

Carolis glances up, and he smiles softly as he bows and murmurs, "My apologies." He slows down. If no one is paying particular attention, then he'll just continue on like he's supposed to be here. Only after he gets the Valyrian noted down does he take a closer look at the doodles while the ink dries.

The poem has lots of accent marks, even more than a modern high Valyrian text would have. The flower pictures seem to correspond one to each verse. The ink is faded, but the drawings are exquisite, very detailed. The tiny dragons have the look of scholar doodles, a common thing for testing ink or filling time while thinking. These have the look of hatchlings. They are drawn with a subtle comedic touch. Half are naughty, chewing on books, flaming Maesters robes and the like. The other half are just being adorable. taking naps, flying. Playing with an egg, that sort of thing. naughty and nice dragons alternate.

Carolis smiles wryly. Here, it's dragons. Back home, it's direwolves. The plant pictures are studied the most closely. Has he seen any of these around? Either in the North or anywhere south of the Neck?

These are not Northern Plants, though a serious Botanist or herbalist could likely point to relatives Carolis would have seen up home, but that is beside the point. There is a distinctive red flower that looks like a cluster of tiny, particularly elaborate lilies, with bright berries much like a nightshade plant. There is a blue flower that resembles a cornflower, but with very different leaves. There is a spiky white flower that looks halfway between a daffodil and chrysanthemum in shape. A squat succulent with tiny lily of the valley like coral colored blooms. There is something that could almost be a buttercup, if it weren't purple and orange. None of these are native to westeros, but several of them grow in the dragon Manse garden: The blue one and the white one and the not a butter cup grow there. Only a few of each, but they were in bloom the day lord Carolis met Princess Visenya.

Carolis's brow knits. Figures he might have to speak to a Targaryen about it all, but he couldn't ask for a prettier one. Except, perhaps, Faelyn. Faelyn, now that his ire has dimmed, has started bringing warm thoughts to mind. Even now a soft smile smooths his furrowed brow. He jots down a few notes on what each flower looks like, since he can't draw with such detail, and the Northron counterpart. Now, what is it about these that have Maesters coming to blows? He glances around, casually, taking note of who is here. Anyone who guards the forbidden stacks? Perhaps tomorrow he'll come back and seek one of them out.

There is a scribe who guards the forbidden stakes while doing his careful copy work of a dangerously degraded scroll. he is currently doing a painstaking illumination of four Ghiscari warriors is various battle gear, coping from the original with a modern sensibility.

There are three codgers, not a one under 70, and four disgruntled acolytes, working seperate projects and taking copious notes.

Carolis doesn't approach, but rather takes up an inconspicuous place where he can watch who comes and goes without making it seem like he's doing anything other than reading or enjoying a view as he takes a rest. Today, he's just casing. Seeing who to accidentally bump into at a later date. All this trouble because someone has information he may not even find interesting when it's all said and done, but they don't want him to have it, so it is clearly the thing he needs to know more than anything else in the world.

It is very quiet in the Old scroll Room. The scritch of quill on parchment, the crisp sound of moving paper, the dip of quill in ink, the sound of old men breathing and the occasional unconscious grunt or moan of an old man stiffened up from sitting in one place too long. The scribe is likely late forties or fifties, but focused on his life's work in the absence of trouble. It is easy to mark the faces. All four acolytes were here the last time, in fact.

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