ArryansAndArchivists

From IMiA

After leaving the infirmary, finally, Arryl takes the time to thank those she's gathered for that special cause before wearily dragging herself back to der Kaserne. That was a long stand of duty, even for the normally hardy and energetic Weir.

The briefest of waves is given to the duty officer and Arryl slumps into her tiny Leutnant's quarters. The courier barely gets her boots off before the grey flows over her and she's curled tail to nose on her cot, deeply snoring.

It's hunger that finally wakes her a full 24 hours later. Upon waking, Arryl yawns enormously, cracking the joints in her muzzle before padding off of the bed and down to the communal bathroom. Fifteen minutes, the Leutnant is in the mess, clean, brushed and shiny as she digs into a large plate of bratwurst washed down by a healthy quantity of a light 'morning' beer.

Once the edge is off, the wolf is masticating and slurping thoughtfully as she mentally reviews the past few days. Suddenly her ears perk up and a quiet yelp of astonishment escapes her. She forgot something. She actually forgot something! Dashing away from the mess table, Arryl tears down the corridor, claws scritching on the ancient wooden floor where so many claws and boots have left their mark before. Once inside her room, it's Zweihaending time -- clean boots, pressed uniform, freshly blocked hat, the orderlies have even seen to her coat in record time, gear, check. Moments later, it's a jaunty fresh-faced young woman that emerges from one of the rear gates of the Castle and sets her relaxed and strolling gate toward the University. As Arryl meanders through the now-daylit grounds toward the Library, she can't help but smile at the occasional clumps of earnest young men and woman, determined to make either themselves or the world better. Perhaps both. The place reminds her of Nifelrod at its best. Though, of course, Arryl's sympathies lie more toward the unmistakable spring air giggle that emerges from behind a set of swaying bushes across the yard. Improving die world ist all well und good, but a little slap-und-tickle ist what kids should be up to as well. Thus it is that the Leutnant climbs the stairs to the Library with a fine color to her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye and a slight bound to her step. Quietly, she steps inside and respectfully removes her cap. Bright grey eyes and a wolfish grin look around to see which one of this place's timid scholar mice will be the first to attempt to 'help her.'

It's not that she isn't noticed, that happens almost immediately, it's more that no one is sure what to do. The uncertainty, and the strong desire to not get tangled up with trouble, gives an added hush to the vaulted room. When no one else ventures forward, a middle age man finally assumes it's his duty and approaches. Bespeckled, with wispy, thinning brown hair and once fashionable, but now worn clothes hanging on a scarecrow frame, he seems to personify the mousy scholar Arryl expected.

"Um... Yes. May we help you?" He fidgets a second and then makes a conscious effort to stop, peering through his glasses at her with a perplexed expression.

"Bitte. Danke." Arryl tries to smile without too much teeth, but sometimes it's hard in the presence of prey. Just then, she remembers that this mouse has a protector and glances respectfully deeper into the library. The Weir tones it down, though there is still some laughter in the twinkle of her eye.

"If you would be so kind, I need to speak mit an expert regarding an original copy auf "***." Arryl names a book that she remembers seeing on Ms. Devereux's desk deep within her lai... archive.

"Ah... yes." The man visibly brightens, though he tries to hide his surprise. "An excellent volume! Very popular with our seniors in the horticulture program. An original copy, you say?" He continues to talk, offering his opinion on later editions and the monetary value of the original. He doesn't seem to require any sort of response, not even when he leaves room for her to say if she was interested in buying one, or selling one.

Which is fine with Arryl as she doesn't seem particularly inclined to volunteer any information, her bright eyes and quick ears are far more interested in the Great Library itself. Shrugging out of her great coat, the uniformed Leutnant drapes the coat over one arm and tucks her hat under the same arm. With a slight bow, Arryl indicates that the scholar should lead the way.

Past towering bookshelves lined up like siege machines and equally tidy rows of long wooden desks with their chairs sticking out where their oars would be, Arryl follows the same route she did before. Near the rear corner of the building, where the outer wall is dedicated to small offices, is the no man's land that surrounds the stairs.

This time there is a distracted young man sitting at the desk which guards the entrance. He is taking down information regarding the books stacked in front of him, but he looks up to see who it is passing him.

"Oh... um... Master Rathern, and... guest." He turns, makes a note in a ledger that sits alone on the other side of his desk, but the men do not exchange greetings or acknowledge each other beyond that.

Having been passed through portals both more and less arcane than those of academia, Arryl is fine with whatever protocols these dwellers in literature have worked out among themselves. Though she can't resist smiling cheerfully to the young note-taker on her way by.

The young man blinks owlishly, perhaps surprised to be acknowledged, and then smiles faintly in reply.

The curved stairway is as well crafted as anything meant to be seen publicly in the university and subtle, decorative touches are discernible when it is better lit. The wide, long hall isn't so gloomy, and this time the door at the end stands open. Voices drifted up the hall, a man and woman who are debating something hotly.

"Well, if you will not believe me, believe the expert!" Evelyn declares crossly as she shoves an open book into the aristocratic young man's chest, one finger jabbing at what she considers the relevant text. He glares balefully at her over it, glances down at the book, stares a moment and then takes it from her. He is grinding his teeth in irritation when he admits her victory by gracelessly dropping into a chair and hunching over the page to read more carefully.

"Oh, I am sorry." The librarian fidgets, embarrassed. They are separated from the scene by the edge of a bookshelf, space above the books providing an additional window. "Young Lady Devereux has an unfortunate spark of temper sometimes. Quite talented," he hurries to assure Arryl, "but her demeanor does warrant improvement." Plucking fitfully at Arryl's sleeve, he tries to guide her to the book in question. It is very near the table Evelyn had been seated at when they had arrived the other night, though several rows away from where her belongings had been.

"Ist all right." Arryl replies cheerfully, her rounded Weir accent easily discernible. The Leutnant's tone is not overly loud but certainly something well-trained librarians' ears could pick up easily. "One doesn't haf to apologize for enthusiasm. Und certainly not when combined mit excellence."

Clapping Master Rathern companionably on the shoulder, she points toward the book. "Now, let's see d'is first edition, nu?" She winks to her guide.

His expression matches that of the young man when she smiles. Depending on the politics, it might not be a comparison he appreciates. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Some people can be described as having an economy of movement. Master Rathern clearly possesses no such grace. His shoulders twitch and hunch and he feels compelled to get right up to the book case as if the weight of the volume might cause him to drop it and the way he huddles over the book as he brings it to the table makes him look like an old crow trying to protect the scraps of its dinner.

Laying the book on the table, he proceeds to describe its physical merits which Arryl can plainly see for herself and no doubt contributes to the value of this particular item.

There is movement beyond the other bookcases, and a brief, polite exchange between Evelyn and the other man. Evelyn moves quietly between the rows to another student, glancing at them as she moves into sight, but she doesn't interrupt.

The Leutnant listens somewhat distractedly to Master Rathern, nodding at what she feels are the right moments. And certainly not handling the volume if Rathern is particularly protective.

The man is fussy, but it was easy to imagine him being that way about many things, whether they warrant it, or not.

As Evelyn wanders into view, the Weir Leutnant winks in her direction with glint in her eye before returning her attention to the book's Table of Contents.

Evelyn gave a small smile in response.

"Whuf! Ist not here. But I was assured d'at Mssr. D'Abbol's (the author) treatise on Sporification Patterns in Nightblooming Psilotopsida was in d'is volume. You are sure d'is ist first edition, nein?" Not surprisingly Arryl's human whuf sounds... remarkably like her lupine one.

[That is very likely my cue.

Indeed.  ;) ]

"May I be of some assistance?" Evelyn approached from behind, her soft steps barely disturbing the library's overwhelming sense of quiet. She clasped her hands in front of her and gave a small nod to the Weir.

"Leutnant."

"Lady Devereux." Arryl returns the nod. "Perhaps you can."

The Weir smiles to Master Rathern, indicating that she *certainly* isn't impugning his own expertise but... "I haf it on very good authority d'at in die orichinal printing auf Mssr. D'Abbol's work d'ere was a chapter excluded from die la'der printings. Ist die Sporifications Patterns d'at are auf particular interest to me." Oh, her eyes are twinkling as the BS pours out of her mouth.

Evelyn blinks, considering this, and answers honestly. "I'm afraid I'm not immediately familiar with the text you refer to, but Master D'Abbol is quite prolific. He has a smaller, illustrated volume of selected treatises that was published around the same time, perhaps what you are looking for is in there?"

Stepping away, Evelyn pulls another, much slimmer volume from the shelf. Mather Rathern looks as if he was going to say something to Evelyn, possibly something rather cutting and then a realization struck him.

"You two are acquainted?" Under the surprise is a faint hint of unease. Evelyn looks up from the book she was thumbing through.

"Yes. I assisted Leutnant Arryl the last time she occasion to come to the library with questions."

He smiles wanly. "Then I suppose I shall leave her in your capable hands. Mustn't leave young Basil unchaperoned for too long. A pleasure meeting you." He turns back to Arryl, gives a small bow, and departs.

"Der pleasure was all mine, Master Rathern. Danke for your help." Arryl bows back to the librarian. And though she doesn't laugh or snigger, there's definitely something in her expression of a good tongue lolling in direction of the retreating back of the scholar.

Evelyn watches him with some confusion, closing the book.

She turns back to the Archivist with a gleam in her eye. "Please forgive me, Lady Devereux. Sometimes I chust can't help myself. Oh, und since I know you will want to know -- it's Leutnant der Gottswache. Arryl ist my milk name. D'oooough," Arryl hitches one hip comfortably onto the table, "last time I checked d'ere were at least 9 Leutnant der Gottswache's in die Corps. Used to be more, auf course, but die cubs d'ese days, pfoof." She grins to Evelyn.

"Well, given my own age I probably have very little room to talk about cubs." Evelyn responds. "And I should think you would need a good way to indicate one from another.... though obviously the system you have in place is sufficient, else it would have been changed already."

"Well, ja." Arryl lays a finger alongside her nose. "Ist all in das context. Und in die... what?... body language? D'ese Ambermens, so little communicating mit die form, so much wasted air." She winks again.

"Yes. Our means are somewhat more limited." A smile plays at the edges of her mouth.

"So," the Leutnant stands, "can I lure you away from der serious yung man for a stroll und some coffee. Or have I come when you are on duty?" She smiles amiably.

"They are neither graduate students, professors nor paying clients and must herefor suffer the whim of my generosity." With a grin, she puts the books back on the shelf, glances around at the two students she left reading, and leads back upstairs. She pauses at the desk to indicate which students are still down there and what books they are not allowed to leave with.

"Do you have some place in particular you wish to go?"

"Nein. I don't get up to die Universität as much as I used to. Where ist good?" As Arryl climbs back up the steps from the Archive, she is very respectful of the fixtures and of the building in general, giving a little bob-bow of her head to the rooms in general before taking her leave with Evelyn.

Evelyn pauses to consider and then turns toward the small offices. She unlocks the middle one and goes in to retrieve her things.

The office is split between several people and it isn't hard to tell which area is Evelyn's. There are plants crowded around one small window, two of them suspended by chains, and while it is tidy and organized, there are books in precarious looking piles all over the desk and shelves. A few personal items are tucked in-between and it's likely no one encroaches on her space for fear of an avalanche.

"There is a rather nice little cafe just around the corner from the main building." She indicates their destination with a gesture as she locks the door again and pulls on a pair of dainty gloves. Tossing a thin shawl around her shoulders she is the picture a proper young lady as she leads out of the library, across the campus and back out onto the street.

Once clear of the Library, Arryl claps her hat back on her head, and with a jaunty flip of the bill sets it to its regular rakish angle. Whistling a happy little polka under her breath, she shoves her hands in her pockets, her great coat billowing open behind her. As the Weir follows Evelyn, her stride hints at a lazy lope as she paces the scholar out into the glorious air of Carnival Season Amber. Outside Arryl's cheeks show the customary pink glow of health and her eyes twinkle as she takes in the University environs. "So, did you haf a chance to look up Herr Vielander? Or has it been all dusty books?"

"All dusty books, I am afraid." She laughs, clearly taking no insult at the term. "After your missive I was hesitant to visit his establishment alone and then I became I felt compelled to be very productive at work. And with all the tutoring I care to do, that can keep me quite occupied. I am, however, interested in doing so if you could suggest a proper course of action."

"Weeeelll, now d'at I am off of die so undeserved extended duty..." Arryl stretches her arms luxuriantly behind herself, "I could certainly ei'der help you myself or arrange an introduction to Herr Vielander. Or bot'." She grins friendlily to Evelyn.

Evelyn glances back with a gleeful, hopeful smile of her own.

"But, ist die compelling done? So d'at you haf time for das big project on Der Amberized Weir?" Arryl cocks her head. "Because I promise you, we are *very* interesting." She grins with white pointy teeth. And then laughs gaily.

"Oh yes!" The answer seems to apply to all of the above. "After the hours I've put in all of my assignments are on schedule or ahead and actually," she grins, "much of the work on the exhibition we wanted has already been done. Our stumbling block was a small segment on what we tentatively dubbed the 'cult of the Weir'. Mostly a small segment of disenfranchised younger, frequently lesser nobility who dress up and play at all things Weir, who play act at actually being Weir. I found it rather foolish and harmless, but there were elements within the University who were afraid it might give offense. To successful hold the exhibition we need to be able to assure them that it will not and then finish pulling it together."

"Cult auf die Weir?!" Arryl's grey eyes widen in surprise. And then she bursts out laughing. It takes her a while to get her breath. When she finally settles down she is wiping tears from her eyes. "Nu! Humans d'ese days. Too much time on d'eir hands und too much money in d'eir pockets. Gott." The Leutnant shakes her head in ironic disbelief.

Evelyn stops to let her companion catch her breath, a small bemused smile gracing her face. The bright gleam in her eyes, which crinkled at the corners, hinted that she felt much the same way.

"So, who is die Universitat worrying about offending? Die hobbyists? Or die Weir?"

"Well, initially I would have said the Weir. That was my understanding at the time, at least. But if they feel the way you do, then it is likely the hobbyists." A smirk and a small shrug comes and goes. "But we took great care not to reveal identities in the material we collected, so if they do not come forward protesting, they will not embarrass themselves. Personally, I found it to be queer behavior, but nothing to be ashamed of. Their parents will likely have other opinions, but I am going to hold on to my assumption that it is only the Weir who have the right to be offended."

"Well, now." Arryl scratches the back of her head as she resumes walking. "It'd probably be best not to guess at der opinion auf der entire Weir nation based on die reaction auf one obnoxious Leutnant." Said Leutnant winks and grins at Evelyn.

"I t'ink... ja, d'ere's probably t'ree sectors d'at should be considered. Zuerst, der Gottswache. I t'ink it's safe to say d'at d'ey won't care. 'Cult auf die Weir display at die Univeristat? Ist it going to buy me more beer? Nein? Screw it.'" Arryl winks again, the Gottswache tends to be full of practical wolves.

Evelyn nods, understanding such a straightforward outlook.

"Zweitens. Die civilian Weir auf Ambertown. D'ere's not many auf d'em but d'ere are a few. I t'ink die busiest-body auf d'em is Frau Herrein. Now *she* can get her panties in a bunch if she t'inks die Weir are being 'stigmatized.'" Arryl shrugs disinterestedly, when some people decide they're going to be upset, common sense has nothing to do with it. "Die best way to get around her ist to approach her mate, Herr Docktor Herrein, first. If you hit him mit die 'scientific value' t'ing, he should fall right in line. Herr Docktor considers himself a bit auf a 'Patron auf die Sciences.'" Arryl elbows Evelyn as she rolls her eyes.

Evelyn blows a soft laugh through her nose, not quite rolling her eyes. She is familiar with people like that and feels she could handle that situation.

"Drittens, und d'ese guys will be der real challenge, die scholars auf Weir. I can't help you much mit d'em as I don't hang around die 'learned halls' much on my leafes to Weirmonken. I *t'ink* d'at die Universitats das Gerdanke at Nifelrod ist still die head auf die pack in intellectual snobbery. But ist been a while since I was home und I'm not sure. You might check mit whoever's been doing your primary research for die display. If d'ey haven't been in contact mit die Universitaten auf Weirmonken, d'ey might want to give it a check." Arryl shrugs. She *certainly* doesn't want to tell Evelyn or anyone else how to do their job.

Evelyn's eyes narrow as she searches her memory.

"I tell you, d'ough, I *sure* hope d'at none auf d'ese hobbyist try approaching a Weir on d'is playacting t'ing. Especially not der Wache. D'ere likely to haf d'ere tail handed to d'em. If der Weir was in a good mood. If not, one less hobbyist in der world." Arryl shakes her head with a faint smile.

"To be honest, I think most of them realize the truth of their situation, that they're playing and being fairly silly in some circumstances and they'll grow out of it once they've been given some adult responsibility. Although some do seem to be dangerously close to going over the edge." She shakes her head, "But if it wasn't this they would have found something else. People like that always do."

"Ain't d'at die trut'?" Arryl nods with a snort.

When they arrive at the cafe Evelyn waves for someone and selects a table in the corner where they have a good view of the rest of the cafe. She takes off her gloves and shawl, setting them in a tidy stack at the edge of the table.

Arryl drops into her chair in a comfortable sprawl, not quite putting her booted feet up on the table. She plops her hat nearby and runs one hand through her hair casually as she looks the place over.

"And if the University in Weirmonken has not been contacted, it will be. I can't imagine curating a project of this scale without their support and input, not to mention their translation skills, but I suppose such an error could have been made." She frowns, picking off an almost invisible speck of lint. "But it can be unmade and if someone is upset..." she shrugs, "silly girls are prone to mistakes of their own."

Her eyes, when they meet Arryl's, were impish and sharp. People who thought they were patrons of the sciences weren't the only ones she knew how to handle.

Arryl raises an eyebrow at Evelyn and then sniggers an evil snicker.

"Oh, *d'at's* der spirit, fraulein! Sometimes, I t'ink d'ose old windbags get too comfy mit d'eir 'tenure' und d'eir 'Erstergelehrter' scheibe. A good run for d'eir supper would do d'em good." Arry winks to Evelyn.

"It would," Evelyn agrees dryly, "but it would also do to remember that old windbags tend to have tricks up their sleeves even if they no longer have all their teeth in their head. The odds are they did not get to where they are by playing nicely and their egos bruise easily..." She grimaces and when a girl came to see what they want she orders her 'usual'.

"And whatever the good Leutnant wants as well."

"Nein. Not in Weirmonken." Arryl agrees heartily with a rueful shake of her head.

"Chust coffee for me, danke." The Weir adds to the girl with a smile.

"So, I will tread carefully." Evelyn shrugs. "As always." There is a brief pause as she sorted through her thoughts.

"I would like to meet Master Vielander if you have time to make introductions ....?" Her gaze sweeps the room briefly, taking note of who is there and then turns back. "And then perhaps I shall have a bit of a verbal dance with good Doctor Herrein."

"Certainly. I will talk mit auld Vielander tonight und see if we can arrange a meeting, ja? What would be a good time for you?" Arryl cocks her head, and a non-existent ear.

Evelyn's tea arrives. It is something spicy smelling and milky and comes with a large glazed scone. Arryl is given her coffee and a small carafe that contains the rest, grounds and all. There was sugar, honey and milk to go with it if she wanted and the serving girl leaves promptly if they don't want anything else.

The Leutnant smiles and nods to the waitress as her coffee and accoutrements are placed in front of her, sitting up eagerly. A graceful shake of the head indicates that Arryl is fine with what she's got. The Weir seems to favor honey in her coffee, not using the milk and sugar.

"I could even bring a bit of the proposal ... if a description would be insufficient?"

Evelyn goes back to the conversation smoothly, breaking off a bit of her scone and indicating that Arryl should help herself if she wants to try it.

Arryl shakes her head with a smile at Evelyn's offer of scone. "Shouldn't make much difference. Herr Vielander isn't d'at great a reader." Arryl says as she stirs her coffee. "He's going to make his decision on wot he *smells*" the Weir taps the side of her nose significantly, "not what he sees."

Evelyn blinks. "Then I shall make certain I have my bath tonight." She replies. There is a whiff of maple sugar as Evelyn breaks off a bit of scone to dip in her tea.

Arryl chuckles.

"I do hope we can salvage the exhibit. The graduate student who initially proposed it had a great deal invested. With so little left to the semester, it would be a shame if he had to begin again."

"Oh, ja." The Weir stretches back in her chair. "I am no scholar, but if it ist looking very bad, I suppose he could always chanche his premise to 'Amber's Perception auf die Weir' or some such." The Leutnant is just making idle conversation at this point, she really doesn't know what's entailed in presenting a display at the University.

"Yes, I suppose. He has diplomatic aspirations, but also fancies himself an 'objective observer'. I think stating that something is based on 'perception' tweaks his goal of impartiality." She shrugs. "The way it is constructed, it is nearly a museum exhibit." She gives a brief list of the sorts of things they have - manuscripts, tapestries displaying scenes from battles, metal artwork of various sorts and a collection of beer steins. It is a wide range of items that covered most aspects of life.

"We shall see." She surmises. "The most logical thing would be to remove the one part, but he feels that renders and incomplete picture, that the affect of one culture upon another would then be ignored." Another shrug. "I suppose he is correct, but it seems silly to allow an entire project to languish for one small portion of the display."

She spends a moment with her tea and scone and broaches another topic that she had meant to ignore, but then simply can't.

"Have there been any revelations on the events at Wesson's?"

"D'at silly prank t'ing?" Arryl raises an eyebrow.

Evelyn nods.

"Nein, not yet."

She chuckles and shakes her head ruefully. "Some people's sense auf humor. Not even I would t'ink auf *d'at.*"

"I gat'er d'at die polizei are still investigating, but if d'ey haf come up mit anyt'ing..." The Weir shrugs. "Extended duty... I am slightly out auf der loop as it were."

"But Wesson ist scheduled to re-open for business soon, und der Crown was looking into recouping his losses. So it looks like everyone ist recovering fine." There's just the slightest bit of emphasis on that last line.

"That's all good then." Evelyn smiles, relieved.

"What about your students? Die girls? Are d'ey well?"

"They are. I saw them yesterday for their regular lessons and they seem to have handled the upheaval fairly well. Children are often quite resilient. Truth be told though, I worry about them. With some of what has gone on recently, I can't but wonder what will happen to them if someone goes after their mother."

"Why would anyone go after d'ere mutter?" Arryl asks with a furrowed brow as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Evelyn seems surprised by the question. "Well... I know violence is an occupational hazard for them, but two years ago five ladies were murdered, last year another five were murdered, and even if the crimes weren't committed by the same individual, I haven't heard of anyone being apprehended and I can't help but wonder if there will be a repeat again this year."

"Nu?" Arryl takes another contemplative sip of her coffee. "I wonder wot die normal attrition rate ist for d'at profession? I always assumed it was fairly high und d'at d'ese murders where chust receiving a lot auf undue attention for some reason or o'der." She shrugs.

"Perhaps die girls' mutter could consider anod'er career choice? I know der Herzogin Carlisle arranches educational opportunities for d'ose seeking different lifestyles." The Weir's just throwing it out there.

"I've not seen any indication of that and have found myself unable to press the issue with her. As for the level of violence they generally face, I am hardly well versed in all the issues, but it seems to me that the worst of it falls to those women working off the streets or in poorer settings. Women who are in meaner company, shall we say, and less likely to be missed or to have anyone champion them if they are ... mishandled. My understanding is that this was not the case with the murders I am referring to." Evelyn places her hand over her half-empty cup, indicating to the server that she doesn't wish anything more before the young woman approaches the table.

Whereas the Weir is fine with a warm-up. "Whuf." Arryl blows thoughtfully. "Hadn't t'ought auf it d'at way before."

"But I'm not sure d'at die two series are related ei'der." She scratches behind one ear. "Do you t'ink d'ey were?" She asks seriously of the woman who overrode Lt. Forrester's wards to enter Wesson's and see what all the fuss was about.

"I honestly cannot say. My presence was not invited and what I saw was done from afar or too far after the fact for me to gather conclusive evidence one way or another. I was younger then and not so bold as I am now." She glances at Arryl, a sly look that comes and goes quickly. "But that two parties might be committing similar crimes is not reassuring." Evelyn grimaces. "Especially if it's all as bad as rumor would have it."

"Ist worse." Arryl murmurs so quietly as to be only a breath to cool the coffee she lifts to her lips.

Not surprised, Evelyn's sad sigh is equally soft, and she nods.

"I suspect it will get worse yet." She murmurs. "I fear we have not yet reached the bottom of this spiral."

Arryl chuckles -- perhaps a little darkly -- as she puts down her coffee cup with a nod. When she looks up there is a brief flash of challenge in her grey eyes. "So wot ist your friend going to do about her situation? Hunker down und hope d'at der blud-hunter doesn't stalk her haus?"

"I'm not sure. Nor do I know how to tactfully broach the subject. I would suppose that it would be difficult to go about daily life with that as a worry and it's easier to think that it can't happen again, or to you..." Evelyn shrugs, one hand tracing idly through the air as if to continue the list of excuses. "But if she will do nothing for herself, I would hope that she would do something for her daughters."

There is a pause, Evelyn looks sad and annoyed by equal turns and then looks up at Arryl sharply. "'Wouldn't it be nice if you could decree that someone is being foolish and simply rearrange things for their betterment?"

"Doesn't work d'at way." Arryl chuckles again. "Not for humans, not for Weir. Und t'ank goodness. Our ability to choose our own stupidities ist one auf our most endearing traits." She nods with a warm smile.

"I suppose," Evelyn doesn't look convinced. "Although I think that when the welfare of children is involved some autonomy should be waived."

Arryl shrugs one shoulder, agreeing to disagree.

Likewise, Evelyn doesn't push the issue.

"But wot auf yourself, Fraulein? Any plans for die future?"

"Nothing in particular. More of the same, I suppose. A private project has met an unfortunate conclusion. As disappointing as that is, I have to question the value of putting more effort into it when I cannot affect a change. I think it is more productive to simply accept that I am powerless to alter the situation and focus on other things." She shrugs, not happy but resigned.

"And for yourself?"

"Teet' auf der gale. As always. What better place for a Weir to be." Arryl grins again. The steady light in the Leutnant's eyes shows she's under no disillusionment, but is still looking forward to the challenge.

Evelyn's expression is wry as she nods. "I must confess that I do enjoy when things are ... interesting, but with limits. For some of what may come, I do not think I am hardy enough for that much excitement."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Fraulein." The Leutnant smiles. "Some kinds auf people can find d'emselves unexpectedly resilient when d'ey need to be. Und I suspect d'at you are auf d'at kind." The Weir's eyes twinkle as she takes another swallow of coffee.

"Perhaps," the corners of Evelyn's mouth turn up in a wry grin, "but here's to hoping we never get to prove your theory." She lifts her tea cup in salute, gives a wink, and drains the last of it.

"Jawohl." Arryl returns the 'toast' with her coffee mug. "Blud for die Weir und peaceful books for die Ambermens." She downs the rest of her coffee with a grin.

"Well," Arryl looks to gathering up her coat, "I should get back to der Kaserne. I'll talk to Vielander tonight und get back to you mit a good time to meet, ja?"

"Yes. Thank you." Evelyn agrees, gathering up her own things and indicating something to the waitress, as if she were scribbling on paper.

"Until tomorrow then? And I do thank you for taking the time."

"Vielen Danke for der coffee und der fine conversation." Arryl grins as she flips her hat onto her head at its normal jaunty angle. "Morgen," she nods in confirmation to the Archivist and escorts Evelyn from the cafe, before making her own way off down the street with a casual farewell wave.

"You're welcome." She replies, returning the wave and heading dutifully back to the University.