Scene #554: A Rat and a Snake Walk Into A Library

Owner	Pose
Faruja	Given the size of Mullonde, and the sheer number of holy orders within, taking on the guise of a simple Nun would be hardly out of the question. Though security is tightened ever since the rumored 'anarchist' attack upon the city, the many wars now threatening Ivalice draws many eyes away from home. And some Sisters are simply too cloistered, and too trusting. Perfect opportunity to assume an identity. Inquisitor Faruja Senra, however, is hardly thinking of the potential for infiltraition at the moment. No, amongst the towering stacks of one of Mullonde's many libraries of the arcane, the good Burmecian is currently squinting at a particularly high-up book. Though the polished wood of the shelves could easily (and likely was at some time) wood for pews, this particular building is older and stuffed with enough knowledge to be precarious. He doesn't trust his gravity spell to not send the entire thing toppling down. What's worse? The little wooden rolling ladder is missing. Muttering under his breath, he suddenly wishes he'd brought along someone. Given the time of night, around midnight, there's only a half-asleep elderly librarian to 'safeguard' the texts. Faruja's just glad the more restricted ones, located a few rows down, are held beneath wards and locked doors alike. Or, at least, they /should/ be.
Faruja	Thunk! Faruja is just ushering up the courage to try a spell on the precious, precarious tomes, when a sound gives him pause. "Brother Ulther?" Calls out the rat. There's a vague snoring sound. The rat gives an exasperated grin, and is just about to go back to his efforts when he realizes just /where/ it's coming from. While Medusa wouldn't be making off with outright banned texts, these are certainly of a more dangerous sort. Mostly combat magics, certains wards, and other curiousities best kept from general circulation lest someone blow themselves up or otherwise twist space and time into knot a little too much. Luckily, it means that the rather irritated form of one Inquisitor Faruja Senra isn't immediately going for a weapon as he walks into the section, giving it a single-eyed sweep. There's a Nun here. "Hail, honored Sister, and Lord's blessings upon ye. A strange time of night to be amongst such dangerous tomes. For what doth ye search? Pray forgive mine suspicion, however, times art trying for us all. " Inquires the rat firmly enough, Inquisitorial cross displayed on his chest.
Faruja	Faruja turns his eye to the books, looking them over. One ear tilts. Certainly curious, but more than one Bishop too is a student of the arcane in the Church. Still, unfortunately for Medusa, Faruja Senra is known for being a stickler for protocol. "Ahh, I see, I see. Completely understandable. Keeps the mind sharp, and 'tis always important to protect onesself!" The Burmecian smiles lightly, looking almost at ease. A hand is offered as the 'Sister' descends to help her down, the rat playing the perfect gentleman. Yet, he's rather notably blocking the door. "/However/, ye must understand given so many troubles as of late, I simply /must/ see the requisition forms and know which bishop requires these materials as well as hath our good Brother here sign off on them. And your name as well, please, Sister?" Smile! Bow. "But think me not so rude: Father Senra, mine honored Child of the Lord. Well met!"
Faruja	Faruja chuckles, the rat shaking his head. "Ahh, far too well! The pious never slee...nay, that doth not...erm, well, it seems mine silver tongue runs brass this late at night. Regardless, ye speak truly. I thank thee for thine offer, merely searching for an old text I lost. 'Lord Cuthbert's Treatise On Space-Time Theory'." Smile! That one, at least, isn't in the restricted texts. Clearly the woman's act is convincing, by the way the fire seems to go out of the rat's gaze for a moment. Huff! Instead, there's exasperation. The rat leans on his cane. "Mayhaps so, however, as the Inquisitor on duty at this time, if they were not filed properly, 'tis mine tail that shall be chewed upon by mine fellows. Mmm..." Frown. The rat taps his temple thoughtfully. Another look to the poor, worried nun. "Here. Let us do this; I shall accompany ye to the good bishop, pick up these papers, and file them mineself. That way, thine good superior and mine art both satisfied. What say ye?" Faruja's already grabbing the door, clearly prepared to hold it open for her. Blink. Something feels off. Faruja's no expert on wards. His head turns to the door, tracing it with his more mystical senses. One ear tilts downwards. How strange. Whispering into a linkshell, he prods some poor Ward-mage to check it out. Then, plastering on a smile, he'll offer to even carry a few of Medusa's books.
Faruja	Faruja waves a hand dismissively. "Worry not, Sister. 'Tis an old, obscure text upon an obscure subject." What a likeable Sister! She reminds him of one from back at the Abbey where he spent much of his earlier and teenage years. He can't help but find himself relaxing in the woman's company. If nothing else, she's yet to arouse overt suspicion. Now if only he'd be less hard-headed. "And allow a pious, dutiful Lady such as thyself walk the streets alone? Whilst they art perfectly safe, 'tis unsightly! I shall be thine humble escort." A flick of the tail and a winning smile. Chivalry, it seems, is alive and well. His voice catches in his throat slightly, an obvious protest, before he seems to give up as a near mis-step has him biting down a curse. Leaning on his cane and pausing for a second, he certainly limps noticably. "It seems ye hath the more sense of the pair of us, Sister Supa. As the night's grow colder, 'tis more sensitive. I really aught see a healer." With that, he's content to follow behind, opening doors and generally being helpful. The city's roads are cobbled, and this particular stretch is filled with libraries, and of course many a small shrine to the Saint; the academic quarter of a city known for it's knowledge, piety, wealth, and power. There /are/, however, many alleyways leading off, including one not far from the library leading to a residential district where many highly placed Ecclesiarchs live. Most importantly, the constant, redoubled patrols of Templar are far more rare down them, particularly this late at night.
Faruja	Along the way, FAruja can't help but ask, "How long hath ye been with the Church, Sister?"
Faruja	Medusa's steadying more than does its job, the rat offering a thankful look, if a bit flushed. Clearly it's a point of discomfort for the rat! "Ye art too kind. Thank ye. Quite so, unfortunately. Most days 'tis bearable, however, as the weather grows colder it gets worse. Or when I hath taken falls, or recovering from illness. Fickle. But we art ever being tested, and this is merely one of mine. Blade wound." Responds the rat, answering the question he can imagine is crossing the 'Sister's mind. Faruja turns out to be a good conversationalist, offering similar idle banter along the way. He seems to keep up decently enough, though there's clear pain in his features. The rat's making an effort to hurry himself, likely for the nun's sake. "'Tis pleasing to hear. If only more wouldst turn to the Lord's service. All of the troubles of the world would lessen surely. To see those whom aught rightly be Brothers and Sisters in faith, wallow in ignorance, idolatry, making war upon another for such petty reasons..." Faruja sighs. "Forgive me. I oft am lost amongst the world's troubles. Continue thine good work, Sister Supa. 'Tis those such as thee that offer me hope for the future." He sounds so honest about it all too. Convenient alleyway ho! The pair are right upon a nice one; narrow, and with a trash-can that's tipped over in the light breeze. The street lamp keeping it lit seems to be flickering as well, obviously one of the lesser maintained spots of the city.
Faruja	Any serpents go completely unnoticed in the flickering light. Faruja's eyesight isn't the best in full light, and even his hearing barely registers anything! No, there's the sound of a choked cry of surprise as he's seized by the neck. For a moment, he's caught wide-eyed and utterly flat-footed, turning his gaze to the 'good Sister'. Unfortunately, Faruja didn't bring a weapon aside from his cane, that quickly clatters to the ground as both hands go for his own throat as he tries to tear away at the thing about his neck. He manages to get enough air in between gagging to speak. "What...in the bloody....ye art nay Sister! Vi..hackcough...vile heretic!" His legendary volume doesn't get out, but the pure poison in his words sure does. Hatred, anger, and judgement, all glaring out at the traitor and potential imposter before him. "St...status quo? Fool! Ye know naught of us! Look around ye...hackhack...naught but disease and sickness! Corruption! We art the safeguards against decay and destruction. And...a blade to strike down faithless anarchists whom wear false cloth! If war must be made to ensure the faith to prosper, then so be it!" Faruja motions towards Medusa, choked words of a spell coming out. Some poor local is about to lose their chimney as gravity magic yanks down quite a few bricks to try to pelt and otherwise crush the woman beneath them! "...I know ye...that confederate over the broadband...What chaos doth ye sew here?"
Faruja	Shudder. That is definitely /not/ a pleasant tongue. There's a brief moment of fear in his eye, before anger takes over. His hand reaches out in futility, grasping as if desiring nothing more than to similarly strangle Medusa to death. "A witch is a witch. Ye shall know the darkness of the Abyss when thine life comes to its end! Repent while ye still can!" Chokes out the rat weakly. His gaze swims, black spots in the corners of his eyes. His fuzzy face is growing blue. "A blade lifted to a cause may be holy, nay matter how bloody 'tis. One made for the betterment of a world, rather than simple greed." Faruja's face is that of weakening anger as his body finally gives out, an errant spell cracking a nearby wall. No, when your oxygen is nearly exhausted, it's hard to aim. He falls limp in the grasp of her twin snakes, lovely red marks left upon his throat. Cue one unconscious rat. Even unconscious, he may well seem to glare hatefully at Medusa.