Elliot’s Symposium on Psychic Influences
Date: 2025-06-26 16:03
(Elliot’s Symposium on Psychic Influences)
[Thu Jun 26 2025]
A Grand Oak–Paneled Study Hall/span
The study area occupies a generous corner of the ground floor, furnished with
heavy oak tables arranged in neat rows beneath tall windows that admit
filtered daylight through aged glass. Each table accommodates six readers
comfortably, with green-shaded banker’s lamps providing pools of warm light
across the polished wood surfaces. Built-in shelves line the walls from floor
to the vaulted ceiling, their dark wood laden with reference volumes and
leather-bound texts whose spines show centuries of handling. The air carries
the distinctive scent of old paper and binding glue, while the thick
carpeting muffles footsteps and the occasional scrape of chair legs. Near the
eastern wall, a peculiar draft rises from an ornate iron grate set into the
floor, carrying with it the faint rustle of turning pages from somewhere far
below, though no amount of peering through the decorative metalwork reveals
the source. Brass plaques beside each shelf section bear catalog numbers in a
system that seems to shift subtly when observed indirectly, and certain
volumes appear to have migrated between visits, though the librarians insist
nothing has been moved./span
It is about 65F(18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At King and Blackstone/span
August quietly takes a seat at one of the tables, with a stack of papers no less that he brought tucked under his arm. His seat groans subtly while he leans back, and brings his hefty notes to start sorting through them on his knee with a casual nonchalance spared at the currently lacking crowd.
Kai wanders around and right passed the gathering, then turns back around to head to a table ti sit down, a little wave given to the people nearby.
As the crowd begins to filter in, Roberta appears to have been lurking here for a little while already, settled in, perfectly comfortable. When seats are taken, she too adopts one, claiming it for her own in order to observe what Elliot has to present.
Cadalie paces in on a hurried business paste, making like a missionary (of the Church, not of splayed legs) and bringing herself to the table with a mouthed ‘Hi’ to August.
Strolling into the Endless Library with the steady, unhurried click of her heels, Marlow heads for the oak tables to take a seat, sliding into a chair beside August. “No one’s spoken yet, have they?” Marlow wonders.
August’s hand dips into his pocket, produces a single pencil that he starts to twirl around between his index and thumb, and then promptly start writing, scratching, erasing or otherwise changing what he’s brought in his stack. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mars.” August relays – but without really glancing or even looking at Marlow. Another nod is spared towards Cadalie, with the same distraction offered to others, and focus spent on his text. “No, it hasn’t started.”
Pacing back and forth, with a sort of impatient patience, Elliot wanders in front of the groups of oak tables, glancing over at the assembling group. “I’ve yet to speak. Did you prefer to take a topic, Pierce?”
Kai glances at Cadalie with a vaguely unimpressed expression before looking away to Elliot.
Sophie saunters in with Kai and makes her way to the oak table to take a seat.
Elliot says “I’ll wait around five more minutes before we begin.“
“My topic will be psychic persuasion in the context of current sentiments around the reality of crafted narratives,” Marlow tells Elliot. “I’m happy to speak when you’re ready for me,” Marlow says, without sounding particularly happy.
Buck takes out a small notebook and begins to take notes as he watches the crowd.
Nodding towards Marlow, Elliot checks his phone as he watches the inevitable halt of the crowd and, with a gradual sigh, he begins. “I’ll begin with a question posed to everyone,” he announces rather seriously. “Is everyone aware of what psychic influence is, and if so, can you define it? This is not a rhetorical question, you may answer, if you so desire.”
“Kgggg.” Cadalie’s tongue rattles with the contempt she taps over her phone. When the process is done, she is all to happy to rid herself of the device and tuck it away to give attention to the topic at hand.
Kai folds his arms atop one another on the table and turns his head toward Elliot, a little grin on his lips as he lifts his brows.
“Of course.” August’s eyes lift from his papers – and it seems this was something he intended to outline at the start of whatever speech he had prepared, because his pencil begins to draw a line from top to mid-center, “Psychic influence refers to the intentional manipulation of thought, perception, or physiological experience through metaphysical or mental projection.” Perhaps there is more, but August omits most from his paper just for answering that.
“The psyche is the soul.” Cadalie adds upon August’s statement. “To influence another’s psyche is to imprint, project, or otherwise inflict one’s own influence upon theirs.”
Kai ticks his gaze to August and presses his lips together as he listens to the man speak.
Not answering verbally, Roberta does nod at Elliot’s question, perfectly content for someone else to do the actual engaging, attention switching to August when he provides that answer, that attention passing on to Cadalie when that next contribution joins the pile.
“Psychic influence also covers the subliminal,” Marlow adds onto August’s answer. “When someone strikes fear by walking into a room, or turns hearts and minds with a toss of their hair, that’s also a type of psychic influence.”
Nemi leans back and listens.
“Ah, Mister Pierce, you wished to be a guest speaker? If so, do send me a message of your topic, at seven-one-zero, zero-two-six-one,” Elliot asks and then suggests towards August as he continues his pacing, nodding in approval towards the papers present in front of him. Listening in, he gives a skeptical glance towards Cadalie, lifting his eyebrow, before those eyes track over towards Marlow. Another nod given. “All great and worthy answers. Psychic influence is a group of abilities that involve the restructuring of one’s thoughts, actions, beliefs, via one’s inherent susceptibility due to lineage, an overt action via abilities that are innate to the blood of supernaturals and revolve around their strength, and finally, some rites, rituals, and other anomalies.”
Marlow glares at Elliot irritably.
“Lineages, many perhaps, would probably not consider psychic influence, however, I do believe that, at the very least, the susceptibilities of Angelborn do count. Does anyone know what the Angelborn suffer from?” Elliot poses and then wonders, ceasing in his pacing as he glances over the room. “They suffer from being incapable, usually of separating external desires from other entities, and their own, internal desires. Probably a trait cultivated from the higher entities we call Gods, to make what they thought could be a perfect slave-race. Or at least, that is my theory, discerned, from what we know of supernatural history so far.”
Genevieve blinks multiple times and then politely raises her hand.
Kai follows Marlow’ gaze over to Genevieve and he tilts his head a bit, listening to Elliot’s speech and now he awaits Genevieve’s rebuttal.
“Miss Rothwell?” Elliot asks of Genevieve
Genevieve stands up, “I do believe the word ‘suffer’ there is rather loaded. It’s rather self evident that if you asked a group of twenty Angel born to complete a task and pit them against a group of twenty dirtborn that the Angelborn would do vastly better, owing to their superior ability to work together, and their decreased vulnerability to the individual failings of pride, hubris and selfishness. Personally I do not consider being a superior being to be something I ‘suffer'” She airquotes, before giving a little nod and smoothly retaking her seat.
Kai stands up and applauds Genevieve for a few seconds, nodding to her. His lips curve up at the sides to Genevieve and he plops himself back down onto his seat.
“This may be true, however, we don’t live in a world of only Angelborn, or people who share our beliefs, or are very cooperative. We live in a world that has entities capable of far nastier things than even we could imagine. We live in a world where their desires may bring influences one would consider revolting, unnatural, immoral, a plethora of other things. And while you may be in several cases, rather prideful of your lineage, and should be, many Angelborn are also susceptible to the dirt-borns,” Elliot smoothly answers. “There may be advantages, certainly. Many a thing can be utilized, but in this case, and regarding psychic influence, it is most certainly a thing that does not work in your favor.”
Genevieve doesn’t give any indication that she’s going to interrupt further.
Roberta was apparently stuck hidden in a lighted room without actions breaking it and will bug it.
Mab is being a little rude today. She showed up with an earphone in one ear and a phone in hand; the acute of hearing may have detected that she was listening in to some meeting call, though at least she was polite enough not to add her own voice to it, only occasionally tapping a signal of her attention on the screen. It sounds to be wrapping up, and eventually she pulls out her earphone, with the decency to smile self-consciously at everyone around her at the table — a very belated, silent greeting, as she folds her hands neatly atop the oak table.
During her call, she paused in particular to gaze over at Genevieve, her split attention drawn to this staunch defence of her supernatural lineage. Even the term ‘dirtborn’ draws a distracted smirk from her, not offended, rather impressed. After this, she refocuses her attention on the discussion at hand.
Sophie asks, a little sheepishly but curiously, “Are..dirtborn actually dirty?”
Kai peers over to Sophie and gives her a little grin, he looks away from her and says, “I don’t think I’ve heard that before but I think that’s just normal humans,” he shrugs, sending off another text.
Cadalie pounces on the subject, “They invented showers in order to clean themselves of disease- which they aremoreoften susceptible to.”
Cadalie says “Oh. I supposed naturals.“
“By dirt, I assume she means earth,” Mab supplies Sophie, though she casts another amused glance over at Genevieve. “We can’t all have fallen from heaven.”
“Yes.” Genevieve agrees with Mab, “Just a rude way of saying not Angelborn, although I suppose mermaids and other sea creatures would also be somewhat definitionaly exempt.” She muses.
“Oooh…” Kai nods to Genevieve with a grin, “I’m a dirtborn. Cool,” he glances at Sophie and waggles his brows.
“It’s not that rude, it’s just factual,” Mab defends Genevieve with a shrug and an apathetic cast to her features. “We don’t need to be so PC about it.” She shoots Nemi in particular an admonishing look.
“That being said,” Elliot continues on, gently, “I do not say these things to insult, but rather, to impart warning and forethought in the world that surrounds us. The other two sorts of blood-lines that do somewhat have similar tendencies towards things that seem like psychic influence, are demigods and Demonborn. Demigods are capable of listening in on prayers and wishes and all sorts of things thrown out to the air and hoped for, but, at the same time, these things are most certainly separate from their own hopes and wishes and desires, and are not intermingled, as they may be, with Angelborn. Arguably, the restructuring of the mind is present enough to offer a tantalizing option or alternative that is entirely external in source. Demonborn, to my knowledge, are internally driven by a need for pain or suffering to be drawn from others, though I’d be happy if such could be expanded upon for me, if one were to clarify.”
“Ain’t no one here was born from dirt, let’s not get ahead of ‘facts’ to suit our little bubbles of self-worth.” Cadalie laughs down to her phone with a scoff. “You girls and your pride. If you’d seen an actual angel, you’d see how far you’ve fallen down to Earth.”
“Not to mention a God or Arch-demon, mhmhm..”
Sophie makes a confused little face and glances at Kai, “Dirt. Angels. Good grief.”
August seems more or less done with his papers, apparently written most of whatever he’s going to talk about on the spot, here and now, and for now, he’s chewing the end of his pencil, squinting down at the pages, and doing the occasional correction beside his more technologically apt cousin that’s doing the same with a stylus on her phone.
Buck speaks up as he takes notes, addressing Cadalie, “That depends on if you believe in creation or evolution. Creationists believe Adam was formed from dirt, so it could very well be a theologically accurate statement for some segment of the population’s beliefs.”
“Any questions so far, pertaining towards supernatural influence?” Elliot asks curiously.
Elliot says “Pardon, psychic influence?“
Mab smiles happily at Elliot but says nothing, lips sealed.
Sophie gives Kai a little glance and smile.
“Yahweh did not predate the others.” Cadalie answers simply with a glance to Buck, confidence or her own little bubble of arrogance? Either way, she looks back down to her phone.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. People are born from the dirty, and return to it, it’s only offensive if you subscribe to the idea that everyone is somehow too special to be carbon-based,” Marlow mentions to Cadalie. “They aren’t,” she clarifies, as if that wasn’t already implied.
“On that topic-” Cadalie bounces upon Marlow’ statement with a forward nod, scooting further into the desk. “The process of psychic elevation, wherein one leaves their vessel and moves to the process of transcendence, which we consider to be the intermediate phase to be called ‘an eidolon,’ is indeed not carbon based.”
Raising his hand up, Buck asks of Elliot, “I noticed you left out the Fae. There’s some level of observed ‘luck’ influence among them, and I was wondering if you felt like this fell under the larger umbrella of ‘psychic influence’ where there’s an outside influence on a person’s actions, that may not be mentally sourced, but rather a byproduct of will?”
Choosing to observe quietly for the moment, Aeryn occasionally sends a quick text without much of a glance to her phone, before it’s turned face down, and her gaze flits between those speaking.
“There won’t be anything left to give a speech about, at this rate,” Marlow muses, leaning in to listen to Mab and nodding in response. “Good, though calling him Ellie makes me a bit sick to my stomach,” Marlow adds.
“No questions?” Elliot wonders, before quickly flitting towards the next grouping. “The next grouping, which is a far more complete and less debatable ability of mental manipulation, are the abilities we call, psychic persuasion, hypnosis, and- No, Mister Ransom, I do not believe manipulating reality to favor you a bit more is the same thing. Perhaps, fate-crafting probably falls beneath such things, however, the more minor instances that are decided like a coin-flip? Not quite so much.” Glancing over towards Marlow, he gestures towards them, “You may take the floor now, Pierce.”
August smiles quietly at Marlow’ words, just taps that word-heavy page on his lap.
Mab claps happily and politely for Elliot, though when he offers the floor to ‘Pierce’, she looks uncertainly between August and Marlow.
Kai nods at Genevieve, “Makes sense. Like when people have a ‘power’ suit or a lucky tie or whatever maybe? I dunno.”
Agast, August gets distracted enough by Marlow that he misses his immediate cue. “Excuse me,” is delivered quietly while he leaves his seat, carries his notes, and shoves his chair in place to move around the table and head for the stage.
Elliot says “Mars Pierce“
Elliot rubs his face and shakes his head before moving towards one of the tables to sit.
“Who let the barely-legal student take the stage first?” Marlow heckles mildly as August jumps the queue.
Roberta claps for Elliot once he’s finished the delivery of the opening gambet of this symposium, though looks confused at the announcement of Pierce to step forward, a gaze drifting between Marlow and August before the latter stands to deliver.
August takes a moment to clear his throat into his fist, ignores Marlow’ heckling, completely, and keeps his eyes down on the stacked pages in his hands,”What I’d like to speak about, in relation to psychic influence, is towards arcane imprinting, be it bodily or mental, as well as general mentions of all psychic influences and what they do. Particularly of their effects on a neurological front, their concordance with imprinting. And yes, it is as boring as it sounds.” It’s a confirmation of sorts, much to himself than to others before he offers a thin, wan smile towards those seated. “It is a different art than that of hypnotists. Reliance on hexes, curses, or rituals doesn’t quite make it any less than its counterpart applications done through more physical approaches – and if I’d argue, I’d say the only shortcoming of it is the lacking ability to create permanence within suggestions. However, that’s not my topic.”
All of his papers, he refers to them only once, sifts through to order them, but they’re ultimately neatly folded to interrupt the festering silence so he can tuck it all under his arm. “If you have any questions, please save it for the end of my speech – and I will do my best to answer. Otherwise,” Another smile, far from his gaze that remains subtly narrowed, and skipping across the faces of people. “We can begin by saying all cognitive phenomena, such as belief, memory, and sensation, are dependent on the physical structure of the brain and its networks. Thus, any successful arcane imprint must interface with neural circuitry to persist beyond the moment of suggestion. Arcane stimuli, even when immaterial and from a distance, must still interface with the nervous system in order to enact lasting behavioral or cognitive change.”
Sophie nudges Kai and then looks at August.
Kai texts away, a bit rudely, but he’s got one ear and eye on August and is listening to the man, his hazel eyes bright with his interest as his focus splits between him and his phone. After a few minutes, he seems done with whatever he was working on on his phone and his full attention shifts to August.
Cadalie turns, folding one leg over the other as she positions her body to fully address the stage, a smile bleeding its way across her lips…
She also continues to eat her ice cream. She’s hiding sick, but it’s getting harder- there’s just too much of it.
Briefly looking down at her phone, Mab sends out a short text before seeking out Elliot’s gaze to flash him a thumbs up. Then she redirects her focus to August. No questions, just intent scrutiny.
A few steps carry August across the podium, in which his papers are tucked out from under his arm and set aside on the table in his pacing, “These function analogously to sensory inputs. Sights, sounds, and tactile patterns that enter through traditional perceptual gates.” A brief pause lets his eyes travel across, pass over Marlow, adding for clarification as if his cousin needs it, no, demands it. “A vampire’s glare, for example, or the flick of a wrist from someone trained in such arts. When combined with emotionally intense or altered states these inputs are recorded with disproportionate salience by the amygdala and hippocampus. What it results in is not quite memory, but a neural encoding. Structrural modification of synapses and myelinated pathways that makes the arcane pattern easier to imprint – either upon one person, if the act is personal, or broadly, across a diverse range of individuals through greater practices.”
“Perhaps in this ability to ritualistically influence a greater number of people creates the shortcoming that lacks the more intimate touch of a personal imprint – but alas, to get back on topic,” August collects his hands, slides one into his pocket and extends the other in a conversationalist way with his palm-open, in presentation, “This biological reinforcement, driven by dopaminergic reward cycles, cortisol-linked stress imprints, or oxytocin-mediated bonding becomes a matter of chemistry. Neurotransmitters flood the brain during the rite, and circuits are burned in through repetition or shock unbeknownst to the target.”
“Things are simpler for cursed objects, but also, that constant, physical connection to the imprinting object creates a direct..” The word is searched in a scrunch of August’s nose, “Tether, so to speak, and the breaking of that connection can result in it taking root for an indetermined amount of time. If this phenomenon is not a traditional, locked imprint, then we can surmise it is only because of frayed neurons quickly making up for the torn affect and replicating it on their own as not to shatter the subject’s mind, or create a literal hollow spot in their head.”
Genevieve gives Marlow and Aeryn a bright smile before she looks back at the speaker, blinking heavily a few times as she tries to force herself to focus.
Marlow listens with weary-eyed attentiveness as August drones on about hippocampuses and neural connections.
Perhaps August’s speech could’ve been supported better with charts or other visual cues, and he certainly seems to glance aside as if in search of something to give a more palpable example with, but his fingers curl to a fist, half-held, and he promptly continues. “These hypnotic states are not simply psychological surrender, they can be measured in shifts of neural frequencies. Observable in reduced beta activity and heightened theta rhythms. A subject thus becomes more susceptible, not because they are weakened, but because their neural gates are widened, and with them the treshold for external command.”
“However,” August brings up an open hand up, alongside a lift of his brows to continue in that carrying tone. “Just as unused neural pathways are pruned over time, unreinforced arcane imprints decay when they’re satisfied, leading to blurred effects – sometimes fragmented memories. A sense of disorientation that we can liken to neurological afflictions. I’d like to say that all of this, whether be through an arcane medium, physical assertation of will, or otherwise, they’re all a manipulation of neuroplasticity.” And just like that, his other hand slips into his pocket as well while he stands at the forefront of the podium. Very, very visibly happy with himself in the way he smiles that he’s given the singular speech that’d put an ox to sleep. “Now, do you have any questions?”
Rather than ask August any questions, Mab claps like a baby seal.
“One note I’d like to come back to is the notion of cursed objects and physical touch.” Buck mentions as he looks over his scribbled notes, “In your medical opinion, do you think that there is some sort of electrical charge within them that interfaces with the nervous system to encode imprints back to the brain?”
As August begins speaking, there’s a clear attempt from me; The albino begins listening, attentive and nodding along and then-
The exact moment doesn’t take a detective to locate. August loses Roberta, head turning to regard the others at the table, drifting over one and all to identify if any of them are still listening– Or if they’re doing something easier to understand, and or fun.
Mab promptly stops clapping when Buck raises a question, a sheepish smile on her face as she folds her hands neatly back into her lap and straightens up.
After a whispered exchange with Mab, Aeryn is left with a look of shock that she quickly trades for attentiveness, or the guise of it at the least. The seal like clapping draws her own hands together in solidarity, right up until there is more speaking.
Cadalie never got to the stage of ‘whelmed.’ There was a spike in the speech of something that looked painful, something that curled the skin along her brow into twitch. But it passed, and left was a blank smile and lot of vanilla on the tongue.
“Younger, wordier Pierce,” Marlow speaks up from where she’s seated. “Thank you for that… neurologically dense analysis. A question, though – If arcane imprinting functions primarily through neural encoding and salience in the amygdala and hippocampus like you’ve implied, how do you explain the efficacy of imprints on individuals with damaged or undeveloped neural structures, like infants, the senile, Windermere students, or the magically lobotomized? Is the imprint working on the brain, or is it working around it?”
“Hey…” Kai slowly looks to Marlow and allows a little bit of drool to drip down from his lower lip, “I… am a student.”
“Exhibit A,” Marlow adds without missing a beat.
“Can I make Elliot punch himself in the dick with magic?” Kai asks his question of August and wipes his chin, shooting a grin to Marlow.
“And I,” Roberta lies back to Kai’s more reasonable claim, “Am a professor.”
Nemi chuckles softly as Kai just proves Marlow’s
Sophie snickers softly.
“Naturally,” August turns to Buck immediately. “A ritual can be classified as the transference of energy, someone’s vitae, and given shape through the power of will and intent.” His hands are brought out of his pockets for this, mimed out as if he has a palm out, with the other held above to gesture as if he’s doing something to thin air. “Then the hexed item becomes nothing more than a battery that only serves to transfer the imprint that it hosts.” Both slip back, fold at the small of his back in an almost militaristic sort of pose, “The problems that arise when it’s torn off, then, is an electrical malfunction that erodes the neurons responsible for creating the imprint.”
Without skipping a beat, August turns upon Marlow next, offer a subtle cant of his head, but maintain that subtle, and entirely professional smile that becomes burdensome in its lacking warmth because of his eyes. “The mentally inept still form memories, yes? Were they incapable of forming neurons, then the imprints as a whole would fail. I think severe damage to mental faculties can easily create a creature that’s psychic influence proof, but they would have to be bedridden, likely in a coma. Have you ever heard of a coma patient with a rooted bodily imprint that tries to satisfy it?”
“You’re the smartest student I’ve ever met,” Mab tells Kai with an earnest look as she seeks his gaze, in what is either high praise or perhaps a grave insult to the rest of the student body. When Roberta lies, she turns to look her way with brows arched in horror.
Kai puffs up at the compliment from Mab, his grin all the wider for it.
Sophie glances at Mab briefly and then back to Kai.
“Sophie took a prize at the previous symposium,” Marlow reminds Mab idly.
“Yes, probably,” August answers Kai, as an aside.
“Smart people choose to work at Coretech,” Mab tells Marlow smoothly.
“Awesome,” Kai lowers his hand after August answers him and glances to Sophie, nodding, in agreement with Marlow, “Working on it, Vice President,” he assures Mab with a grin and then winks Sophie’s way, his pupils a touch dilated.
“Oh, was that not a rhetorical question?” Marlow asks August apologetically, a beat late. “I don’t base my understanding on anecdotal evidence. Just because I haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened or isn’t possible.”
“Which hand is your dominant one?” Kai asks Elliot in response to his threat, with a little glance his way, his grin remaining on his face.
Sophie smirks at Kai, “I’m not worthy of workin there. I’ll just stick to Pizza.”
Sophie looks over at Elliot, “Can ya leave his genitals? I like em.”
“Nah, you are,” Kai assures Sophie, “You’ll get there,” he peers at her, “I hope you mean you like mine, not his,” with a snort. Then he’s off to look between Mab and Marlow curiously.
Aeryn smirks briefly at Marlow, before a faux-sniffle.
Sophie blinks at Kai, “Well, obviously. Freckles would never let me touch his, I’m too..low born.”
Cadalie’s phone begins to vibrate. She checks the caller with a sigh and excuses herself.
“You can’t use hypnotism to create suggestions in a person that’s in a coma. Dream imposition, yes, it is a possibility, but that is not the topic of this discussion. I can prepare an even more thorough dissertation on that if you’d like, it’s not too dissimilar to my actual work of interest.” But, August turns away,” I think I’ve ironed people’s brains enough,” Speaks towards Elliot, after but his smile has somehow grown larger, possibly because someone suffers exquisitely everytime he opens his mouth. He still turns to others, scan them for a brief moment, “Then, if there are no more questions, I’ll consider that I’ve made my point that magic, even something as trifling as hypnotism, has roots that extend to physical influence and cannot be made manifest without anchoring it through already available faculties.” And off he goes, down the steps to pick up his papers and return to his seat.
Genevieve applauds politely for August when he steps down.
Cadalie returns shortly, eyes to phone, sitting herself right back on the warmth of her seat.
Marlow applauds politely, either because August has finished, or because August has finally finished.
Mab claps again for August, a little less enthusiastically this time; he’s already had his round of cheerleading from her.
Aeryn’s hands come together in a short series of claps, and she stares at Elliot after his remark.
August politely dips his head, but otherwise, his legs cross in his seat again, with his folded papers laid over his lap, and hands twined on them. His head dips aside towards Marlow, and his shoulder nudges her in faux encouragement. “Do your best.”
Finally realising that August has finished speaking, Roberta claps -attentively- clearly having acted as though she wern’t lost about a sentence in.
“Shall I?” Marlow asks Elliot. “You’ll have to make your audience quiet down, I’m not speaking through seven different conversations and flying text messages,” Marlow says firmly.
Roberta muses, “What’s a hippo-campus?”
Nemi sighs softly as she slips her phone away after one more text.
“Yeah what’s with all the phones out, were you raised in a barn?” Mab asks the table with a glance abound, incredibly hypocritically, considering she literally showed up here with an earphone in and only half-paying attention during her meeting call.
“The Pontifex raises a good point about the time, actually,” Marlow says, checking her phone hypocritically. “Perhaps we can reconvene next week to continue?” Marlow asks Elliot, brows lifting slightly.
Nodding towards Marlow, Elliot admits, “We can, of course.”
“What an excellent idea Missus Pierce!” Kai nods to Marlow firmly, glancing her way with a tiny smile.