The glass clinked as it was set down on the table, its holding arm withdrawing back from the clearly defined light. A moment later, it extended again and rotated the cup slightly to divert the shine glinting off a small, sparkling coat of ice. Just a little patch of frost. He liked his tea cold. But, the light had been refracting straight into his eyes.
"I officially call this quarter's meeting of the Greystone Cabal to order," echoed the deep and droning voice from across the circle, and also slightly to the left. It was accompanied by a short bang of gavel on wood and a tiny flash of a spark. Carrus was leading tonight then. Such a careless man. He wouldn't be the one paying to repair the table, no doubt. Earl despised such a lack of control amongst his peers. Especially for someone with such an overtly perilous aspect. Though maybe its wild nature compensated by being more hard to control in the first place? No, he didn't think it quite justified such extreme looseness. He mused briefly on the cabal itself. Such an... antiquated form of organization. Though he supposed that was a result of its equally ancient creators. The name certainly didn't help. So uncouth, and only serving to perpetuate the harmful stereotypes they all already suffered. Yes, it truly was rather impractical, wasn't it? He'd propose a rebranding later on in the conversation. If there was time after the important matters.
Graves paid attention diligently as the proceedings rolled on, keeping the majority of his focus on the meeting. Straight backed, and with his hands clasped neatly before him. Most of it was rehashings or continuations of prior things. As it was, he took notes on the more pressing matters. A contingency on the off chance that something happened to slip his well-trained mind. Unlikely, but always a possibility.
"Amaranth is still in just as much turmoil, if not worse. No developments there," interjected one of Constantine's shades in his ironically posh accent, to another spark from Carrus's corner. The reckless man was, contrastingly, a sizable control freak. No doubt he fumed at the flaunting of his 'order.' Uncaring, the master of information leaned back and threw his arms casually over his chair. "Can expect them to fall soon if all continues to..." He scrunched his face for a moment in thought. "What was that word? Ah, I give up. Pity them. Anywho. The churches seem to be winding down still after the incident. I don't see them trying to exterminate anyone again very soon. Which is good. Hmm. Oh, that flu outbreak to the south died down almost entirely. Other than that, no big news to report."
They went on from that to in-group happenings, though nothing of import was found there. The most notable event being that a minor acolyte -an unnecessarily cultish term that Graves also personally disliked. He noted it for later- had perished rather unfortunately due to her own carelessness in an attempted summoning. A tragedy, to be sure, but not anything exceptional. From there they came to a financial summary, where no individuals were explicitly named, but shade was most definitely thrown, with prejudice. There was a section on performance in various areas, in which names were named. In general, not much of anything impactful happened. Still, he listened intently, if for no other reason than to record the information.
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It was at perhaps halfway through when they came to the matter of the Academy. Always a tedious process, what with the dozens of classes that took place. Almost each with an associated specialist to instruct them. Not every individual present taught, but a good portion did, and had several others reporting events to them, even. They went through the list alphabetically, as was most efficient.
There'd been little out of the ordinary, at least for himself. One small fight had occurred over the past semester, the only inter-student issue of the period. The qualities most commonly present in a Warlock -those being intense ambition, coupled with a profound lack of motivation and energy- were not personality traits that often provoked conflict in isolation. Most were content, provided there was a clear path for them to progress. Of course, there were always exceptions. Case in point, a difference of opinion had compounded on a particularly sub-optimal day for one of the two, and that existing aggravation had caused the argument to spiral. Neither had been seriously injured, thanks to a quick intervention. Though both had required a minor hypothermia remedy to be administered shortly.
Perhaps the only interesting topic was that of the new enrollments. A particularly promising crop, they had integrated so far without difficulties. Mostly, that is.
"There has been one occurrence outside of expected parameters," he continued in his summary, shuffling idly through the papers he held. "During the final period of First Level Evocation, today, at precisely two forty-seven, one newly enrolled Allister Rose-" he sighed inwardly. He'd much like to have a word with the boy's parents. "-went into what appeared to be shock while filing the compulsory Patron detail form. Symptoms -a sudden expulsion of mana indicating the uncontrolled activation of Skills- along with timing point to a forced Communion initiated or continued by the Patron." A pause, observing reactions. Attention, not quite rapt but invested enough. He tapped the sheaf of pages against the table to straighten them. "While not unheard of, it is highly uncommon for such an event to occur at such a Level. Patron itself appears to be a primarily mental entity of harmful orientation, assuming the truthfulness of submitted information. The student was estimated to have a developed enough mind to recover without assistance, but was assigned a monitor intelligence and a temporary increase of the dormitory recovery enchantments. Individual is deemed likely to be at higher risk of future similar incidents and has been submitted to observation for potential Vessel candidates. With no contributions..." he awaited any such words. None came. "This ends my summary."
"Noted," Carrus drawled, in his perpetually grating, bored tone. "Who's next? Leont, right? Go ahead." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the dwarf in question.