technologist | fade rift inbox.

Hallo. You would like to know about elves.

[ Down the line comes a slightly husky feminine voice, fake French, slightly more chill in affect than would be implied by a long con about dick and boob drawings. ]

Are you one of those Rifter shems who have never met one? Or a Rifter elf. We have one of those.

[The stack of papers hitting on the table top - what table top? Whichever one Fitz happens so be sitting at when she successfully tracks him down - is so heavy that it thumps. Wysteria is all smiles, if slightly breathless from hauling an encyclopedia's worth of research notes around in her arms.]

Good morning, Mr. Fitz. I thought we might spend some time getting you up to speed on the work.

On top of a small stack of miscellaneous items (a scarf from winter, perhaps forgotten for its lack of necessity given the turn in the weather; a dirty cup that Fitz absolutely used last; et cetera, et cetera) which may have been left about the house and is now ordered with extreme neatness on whichever workspace in the haunted hightown mansion that Fitz prefers best lies a neatly trimmed note. In exceptionally good handwriting (indeed perhaps even more lovely than is usual), it reads—

Mr. Fitz,

I believe these may belong to you in some capacity and have merely been overlooked. I have taken it upon myself to collect them for you here so as to remind you of their existence. It was no trouble whatsoever.

Best Wishes,
W.A. Poppell

[Ten minutes ago, they were arguing about how best to consolidate a series of Rift and Rift-related records. When she opens her mouth, one might be forgiven for quailing at the thought that it might be more of the same.]

I'm throwing a party. Would you like to come? You may bring your friend if you like. Miss Johnson.

[ Left in Fitz's workspace are a collection of notes, written in a lot of shorthand that is probably decipherable to anyone with similar work patterns, along with some well sketched schematics. It takes a little shuffling through to find a more total diagram of what Fitz is supposed to be looking at.

A bulky, two-legged, two-armed figure, with a reactor in its chest. Tony is nothing if not consistent.

All of this seems to be context for one set of even more detailed diagrams featuring a robotic arm. Sleekly designed mechanics infused with tracks of lyrium to take the place of sensors and electrical conduit, which all ostensibly link back to the reactor.

Written just above the crab claw type design at the end of the arm, is; ]

I could use a hand
- TS

hey Google
who is Mr Erik Stevens

crystal.

after jane austengate, but not that long after;

a note;

pre-ghislain?? idk time is fake.

notes.

enchanted book.