As Iana and Garnyn turn to head toward Obsidian House and the Bin, the Jade scholar does an... interesting job of maintaining small talk. None of this is particularly unfamiliar to Iana; they have shared classes after all. Garnyn is very much the person who will sit in the front row of the class and enthusiastically chat with the instructor in a voice pitched particularly to carry nearby. That voice that screams, 'Look, I am talking to the instructor as a near-equal!'. He is very much the person who won't hesitate to introduce himself to the new person next to him and maintain a polite but carefully curated conversation, as though he is working from a small set of scripts he relies on, rather than a genuine ability for interpersonal communication. It extends to his appearance, carefully coiffed and well-dressed, over the edge of casual and everyday, inching up on but not crossing the 'too formal' line. He knows where the 'too much' line is, he just isn't sure how close to get to it. To someone more comfortable in their own skin and abilities to interact with other people, he comes across as too calculated. A pleasant person, certainly, but not always an easy one to be around.
Garnyn seems to have found some measure of realization that his methods aren't as effective as he once believed, though. His manner with Iana is more hesitant, less false confidence. More genuine, in the sense that he's not trying to portray some moldy textbook's ideal of Good Conversationalist... but he certainly hasn't figured out who to portray instead. It's a little exhausting and a little endearing all at the same time.
Obsidian House isn't the sort of place that non-Obsidians come very often. It's not that they're not welcome, not officially anyway. Like most buildings on campus, anyone affiliated with the School can come in. There are parts of it that are off-limits of course, but again, that's like most buildings on campus. Obsidian's reputation, though, gives a lot of people pause about casually hanging around, as though spending too much time inside the walls will cause their personal secrets to leak out their ears unbidden. Which of course is silly. The real worry is -- or should be -- that some Obsidians will actually bid personal secrets to leak out of you.
So as Iana and Garnyn approach Obsidian House, Garnyn starts to fall back just a step or two. "Are you sure it's okay for me to come in? No... state secrets posted on the walls?" he asks, adding a little nervous half-laugh, wanting it to be a joke but not certain that it is. "No damaging exposes of city officials lying around the waiting room, things like that?"
"No, you only get those with the paid membership," sounds a voice from behind them before Iana can answer. It's deep and wry, and Iana knows who it is without even having to turn around. For such a big man, it's always a surprise how quietly Ishan Veriti moves. He's not quite as big as Georg, but he's one of the few people Iana knows who could be mentioned in the same breath. The box of books he carries with him looks positively tiny in his massive hands, but he carries it with the same grace and care that he moves with. Ishan is the epitome of the gentle giant -- if he were better able to blend into a crowd, he'd be a master sneak.
A point he's made to Iana more than once over drinks at the Eighth Stone after a long day in the Bin together. A point he always makes with self-deprecating charm.
"If you really want the juicy stuff, they run a sale on the executive tier next month."
He pauses just long enough for his words to sink in before his bearded face spreads in a smile. "Kidding. Really. Who's your friend, Iana?"
After necessary preparations, Asra heads toward the building that houses the administrative army that runs the day-to-day operations of the School of Seven Stones. It also houses the Headmaster's office. It is officially known as Agenas House to honor the third headmaster of the School, who oversaw its construction, but it's more commonly referred to as Central. It's a needlessly fancy building, with spires and arches and gargoyles and carvings and... well, it works very hard at being impressive and inspiring but it's widely considered to be rather tacky in this day and age. Every once in a while there's an abortive movement to replace it, but love of tradition always ends up winning out over love of sensible architecture.
Risine Barimond may not have given up an office in the Dawnstone faculty area, but it's clearly not because she had a great view or a short walk from her residence. Her office is in a weather-beaten converted residence whose better days passed decades ago, on the ground floor, in the back corner of a back hallway next to what appears to be a maintenance closet judging from the mops and brooms visible through the door that seems to be missing a latch.