houseofcards_rp | [RP Log] OTA to anyone with a reason to wander down

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[RP Log] OTA to anyone with a reason to wander down

It was strange, having more time. He'd almost gotten used to the idea that he was doing more than one persons job for so long that he forgot what it was like to have a clean desk...and to roam the halls. But despite the lack of files waiting for his attention, Ceiro had more than enough to think about. Andrea Cruz-Well's situation troubled him, more so than he'd care to admit to Elisha. And Sophie, bless her, and her talk of artifacts. Remnants of the past...perhaps there was a reason it was a remnant. And of course Julien's talk of attacks on outpost.

There was little enough to go on in any situation, but for the briefest of moments he wondered if they were all somehow connected. Was it the chance leak that alerted the Arcana to the Deck's location, inadvertently bringing the two halves back together. Were the attacks the work of the Arcana, massing an offensive to finish a long forgotten war? Clearly not everyone had moved on as smoothly as the Deck, the Magician's speech was evident of that. And the artifacts- did the hold some old power that the Deck could no longer recall; and if so...could they even wield it?

He would have laughed at himself, the very idea of magically artifacts floating about unbeknownst to the deck, if the past few months hadn't proved that magic, in some form, did exist.

To clear his mind, Ceiro had set out to run the long winding paths around the Heart's grounds, but before he'd managed to get to the doors outside something had turned his attention to the depths of the Castles archives. He would have others look, he had thought, but what if it was all a bunch of folly? It would be pointless to waist someone else's time with chasing fairy tales, wouldn't it?

So he could look, he thought as he took the steps down into the old, dim basement. He could work his way through a few of the rooms, dig through the old artifacts that had been forgotten over the years when newer treasures had replaced them. Afterward he could go on his run, if he was still up for it. Besides, maybe he would find something worth bringing back into the light of day, no?

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The Archives would normally be empty, but especially with Monday morning's departure (and, honestly, the fact that he hadn't seen since he'd said where he was going), Jordan had decided to go downstairs. Not to look for something in particular, but because it was a good place to think. And hardly anyone bothered coming down except he and Jeannie.

So it was a surprise when he heard the door open, and he stilled out of instinct. But there was more reason for him to be there than most, and so he flicked on a light. "Oh," he said. "Your Majesty. Were you looking for something?"

"Ah, I didn't realize you'd be done here." Ceiro said with a smile as he glanced about the room. This one seemed to mostly house files and books. Some looked as if they might well be as old as the Castle itself. "How far do these ledgers go, do you know?" He asked, curiously tilting his head as he moved into the room fully.

Jordan was then greeted with a sight very few in the deck ever saw. Ceiro's customary clothing had been replaced with a pair of loose, knitted pants for a work out, and his arms bare thanks to the light tank he wore. His hair was even pulled back and tied into a ponytail at the back of his head that gave him an almost Eastern look with just a glance.

And he had tattoos. On his upper arms, on the inside of his bicep as well. Not to mention clear definition in his biceps.

Jordan slowly raised an eyebrow at the sight of Ceiro dressed so casually - and also the tattoos and the muscles, he admitted. He hadn't realized the king kept so...fit. But then, he'd heard over and over about how lazy he was from his mother, and evidence seemed to suggest it was true. "It helps me clear my head," he said after a moment, before glancing around. "The ledgers go back the last four hundred years. The books are older; apparently people were better about keeping an eye on them than the ledgers."

There was a difference between being Lazy, and being unhealthy. At least in Ceiro's opinion. He didn't care for the daily ins and outs of political games, And the tattoos were old, from a time a when Ceiro's rebellious streak was as long as it was wide, though his parents had never made comments on them. For him they were now just memories, and ones he rarely lingered on.

"I see. Do they have an inventory? Of all our artifacts, by chance?" He asked, moving toward them with a curious look in his eye. If the Spades had found a sword, then he would be looking for a Cup. But cups were so common- would there really be any way to know?

"It's computerized," or in the process of being, at least, though Jordan raised a brow at this particular line. But he opens up the laptop and pulls up the artifact catalog. "It's not done yet, I just started it a couple of years ago." And there was, frankly, a lot. "There are written records too."

And now he can't really resist the pull of curiosity. "Are you looking for something specific, Your Majesty?"

"A cup," he said in an almost distracted tone as he turned and looked at Jordan's computer. Ah, of course- electronic versions would be faster to search through. "A very old cup," he said again, moving over to where the Nine was with his laptop. "I'm afraid that is all I can tell you- but it would stand out, I think. Be...singular." Which would be odd. Most cups came, at the very least, in pairs.

"Take me to the oldest artifacts, yes?" He said as he came to look at the screen intently.

"A singular Cup," Jordan murmured as his hands flew across the keyboard. The more recent artifacts have pictures attached, but the older ones, mere locations. "Are we looking for something leftover from the Arcana?" Never let it be said that Jordan Novak wasn't sharp, after all, even if he preferred not to flaunt it too much.

"There," he said. "These are the oldest I've managed to get cataloged. Several hundred years old, most of them."

"Mm." He skimmed through the list, frowning as he looked over the oldest of the artifacts. Nothing, though, seemed to ring a bell with him. It seemed looking would be best. "We are looking for something leftover," he said absently, standing up right again before pointing to the location on the oldest. "What room is that? Perhaps we are over looking it."

"Three doors down, right side." He pulls out two sets of gloves and hands one to the king with a faint smile. "Anything as old as our split with Arcana will require a delicate touch, my lord."

"Ah, right. Well...lets go see what we can find, yes?" He smiled at Jordan, taking the gloves carefully before leading the way out of the room. Three doors down, and on the right side- Ah, yes...this one. Ceiro opened the door gingerly, before stepping in and flicking the light on. He frowned then, looking over the mountains of boxes, and crates. The room was, really, a lot larger than he'd expected.

"Now...where to begin." He said more to himself than Jordan as he pulled the gloves on carefully.

It is actually organized, though it doesn't look that way. Jordan doesn't really allow anything under his purview to be unorganized. "The back is where the oldest is," he said. "Might be a good place to start?" It was as good a place as any to start, and it was probably about time that he got a better measure of the man he intended to replace.

Organized was good, if a bit obsessive. But Ceiro would not hold that against the man. Instead he merely nodded and turned his attention to following a path down the to the back of the room. They could work their way from the top shelves down, searching. Vaguely, Ceiro realized- he probably wasn't ever going to make it to that run.

"Top down, we'll work our way down one side, then come back to the other." He said in firm direction. Idly they'd both take a side, but he wouldn't risk injury for either of them in handling the crates alone. Besides, they were working in tight quarters. "Shall we?"

Obsession is such a negative word. Jordan would never call himself obsessive over this. Other things...perhaps, but he just nodded.

They were silent as they worked their way up one side, then down the other, then through the tables in the middle. "I don't think we've run into anything promising," he said. "Maybe it's hidden in plain sight?"

In plain sight? Ceiro frowned at the idea, but he considered the idea. Where, if in plain sight, could it be? Nothing above them had a history. The goblets and cups upstairs were all in matching sets. It wouldn't be one of them, he was certain. That only left down here...

But.

"We need something...more recent. We've gone too far back." He decided. People by nature were reluctant to change, unwilling to let go of the past. "Do the ledgers indicate when we took on the Heart mantle?" It would have been soon, after he was sure. But the hold over from the old life could have reached as far in as 500 years after. And that would be their next point to start in.

"It seems like it was almost immediately after the split. As far as we're able to tell, from the records we have left." He leaned his elbows on the table. "It's like once we split from the Arcana, we no longer wanted anything to do with it."

He was silent for a moment, as if thinking something through, but in reality he was just going through the mental map of the archives in his head. "Across the hall...one door down. That should go about five hundred to seven hundred years forward."

"Of course," he nodded, abandoning the tables in that room to lead the way to the next room indicated. They needed something meant to hold...fragile things. Which didn't say much when everything in these rooms were meant to hold on to fragile things. "Heaven on Earth, what do we do with the things we no longer have room for?" He asked absently as he stared at the new, yet still large and packed, room. "We should found a museum."

Nodding to the first row, he sighed a little. "Again, front to back?" He'd owe Jordan more than he could say after this.

They made more room. Nothing was thrown away if he could manage it. "It's not the worst idea, honestly. It'd be easier to keep track of, and people would actually see it." He stepped inside, and nodded, tugging the newsboy cap he'd worn today on backwards. "Front to back," he said. He didn't sigh, but he sort of wanted to. "Still a single cup, right? Do we have any idea if it would have any distinguishing marks?"

They worked diligently, though it seemed to be to no avail. What had started hours ago as a mere- I'll take a glance- had eaten his entire afternoon unexpectedly. And yet there was nothing to be found. Was there ever anything to be found to begin with? Cups break, bend, fall apart. They were replaced. Why were they certain they even had it anymore?

Pulling open the last crate, Ceiro sighed in resignation until he eyes fell onto what looked like an old, tarnished goblet. Picking it up, he frowned at it. To be fair, it wasn't the first goblet they'd found, but most had a pair- this one seemed to be singular. Lonely, even, in it's casket of straw and wood. He could barely make out the waves etched on the side, but there was nothing particularly memorable about the cup. Nothing at all.

"What do you suppose this one is made of?" He asked, absently.

"Silver tarnishes, but...it's greening, so something with copper, maybe?" But he was just guessing. If it was from Arcana, there was no telling, anyway. "That crate was built for only one," he said thoughtfully. "So I doubt it's lost it's mate somewhere along the line."

But it was so simple. No gleam and polish to it, no stones glittering along the surface. That could be the point, he supposed. The Hearts had never really been a Suit that put much stock in appearances.

"We'll have to restore it." It could just be nothing, too. There really was no telling. Sighing a little, Ceiro moved closer to a lamp and flicked it on. Turning the cup slowly in the light, he couldn't very well make out any more details than he had before. Just the waves.

It certainly fit, he thought. With the images of the staff left to them.. "Did we store the staff down here?" God alone knew where they'd moved it. While interesting, Ceiro wasn't sure he'd have called the staff pretty. Though, of them all- theirs had been the easiest on the eyes.

"There is a jeweler in the Club Distract, a Mister Fawkes. He's often thought to be the finest in the Deck when it comes to jewelry. Take the goblet to him and ask that he restores it as best he can. Once it is returned, I want to look at both- goblet and staff."

"It's in one of the other storage rooms, with the more current artifacts." Or stuff, honestly. He hadn't thought anyone really wanted to see it on display.

Then he nodded, reaching out for the goblet. "I'll see that he gets it before I leave Monday morning, my lord," he said. "It should be ready by the time I return from Outside."

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[RP Log] OTA to anyone with a reason to wander down

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/makes stuff up

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