Biochem, [is a gentle repeat for a word she doesn't understand while her hand is in motion.
The papers, the endless sea of papers, paint a picture of such convolution that there is virtually no way that it hasn't been engineered on purpose. It is an endless series of recursive references where document a requires document b and document b requires both c and a, and all of them noted with some fee or taxation of approval writ. Maybe all property in Kirkwall is so difficult to manage; the city is certainly limited in the directions it might expand. But here and there, freckled in the documentation, are notes referencing certain irregularities with respect to lines of inheritance. Charges for hours a solicitor was forced to sit in consultation with a Chantry representative, and—]
It would depend on my specialization. At some point between two and four years, every apprentice appears before the College board and their Talent is evaluated, at which point they are referred away from their original Master—who is meant to be something of a generalist—to an educator practicing in their required field. And then in five more years, I would have taken a second series of qualification exams and begun a compulsory two year service for the government. From there, I might either have signed a contract extension or simply obtained my licenses and gone to do whatever I pleased.
[ Years are a little flexible, but sounds like "magic school" is exactly right. University and then grad school, just with magic instead of... well, and numbers. He's seen some of her weird charts. ]
What's that look like? The government service.
[ It could mean a lot of things. It's strangely familiar, is the thing: SHIELD academy, funneling nerds into service. Combat, sometimes. SHIELD's outside of the government, proudly, but he's not about to pretend they aren't always running parallel. ]
Biochem— biological chemistry. It's the study of chemical processes in living organisms, so— figuring out how living things work, just on a very, very small level.
Ah, so something of a naturalist. [How charming. Wysteria imagines her with pleasantly round spectacles.] It must be rather pleasant to be wed to someone so similar to yourself, only without the conflict of overlapping interests.
[She has finally finished this particular problem, and pauses in the work to set the pen aside and work a cramp out of her hand.]
As to the service, it is quite varied. Some magicians attend to diplomatic service or industrial development, and others are sent to assist in the war.
[ The naturalist assessment prompts a rare smile, brow furrowed. Jemma'd kindly say yes, sort of, then (also) kindly elaborate on the history of her field and the things it does and doesn't inherit from natural history. Fitz says nothing, just keeps the quiet amusement for himself. ]
Yeah. It is rather pleasant. [ A hint of sarcasm, disgustingly fond. The nostalgia feels like quicksand. His pivot away's subtle, though; easy when his curiosity's genuine. He's abandoned any semblance of proper posture, sunk lazily against the back of his chair, arms crossed. ]
Oh no. Not unless they are very well connected; no, a magician is sent where he or she is deemed most useful for their service term in much the same way their field of study is determined by whatever talent they are most skilled in. The system has been streamlined for efficacy in order to educate the greatest number of magicians in the shortest period of time.
[Perhaps it is the lateness of the hour, or the fact that she would rather be doing anything but finances, or simply the satisfaction of discussing a thing that she is the unquestionable authority on, but there is something agreeable to this. They should have lateness conversations more often; perhaps Mr. Fitz would be slightly less prone to argue through subsequent others.]
Did your employer arrange the introduction? Between yourself and your wife. Or were you acquainted prior to the work?
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no subject
The papers, the endless sea of papers, paint a picture of such convolution that there is virtually no way that it hasn't been engineered on purpose. It is an endless series of recursive references where document a requires document b and document b requires both c and a, and all of them noted with some fee or taxation of approval writ. Maybe all property in Kirkwall is so difficult to manage; the city is certainly limited in the directions it might expand. But here and there, freckled in the documentation, are notes referencing certain irregularities with respect to lines of inheritance. Charges for hours a solicitor was forced to sit in consultation with a Chantry representative, and—]
It would depend on my specialization. At some point between two and four years, every apprentice appears before the College board and their Talent is evaluated, at which point they are referred away from their original Master—who is meant to be something of a generalist—to an educator practicing in their required field. And then in five more years, I would have taken a second series of qualification exams and begun a compulsory two year service for the government. From there, I might either have signed a contract extension or simply obtained my licenses and gone to do whatever I pleased.
no subject
What's that look like? The government service.
[ It could mean a lot of things. It's strangely familiar, is the thing: SHIELD academy, funneling nerds into service. Combat, sometimes. SHIELD's outside of the government, proudly, but he's not about to pretend they aren't always running parallel. ]
Biochem— biological chemistry. It's the study of chemical processes in living organisms, so— figuring out how living things work, just on a very, very small level.
[ Would Jemma approve of this summary. Unsure. ]
no subject
[She has finally finished this particular problem, and pauses in the work to set the pen aside and work a cramp out of her hand.]
As to the service, it is quite varied. Some magicians attend to diplomatic service or industrial development, and others are sent to assist in the war.
no subject
Yeah. It is rather pleasant. [ A hint of sarcasm, disgustingly fond. The nostalgia feels like quicksand. His pivot away's subtle, though; easy when his curiosity's genuine. He's abandoned any semblance of proper posture, sunk lazily against the back of his chair, arms crossed. ]
Sent. Have they got any choice?
no subject
[Perhaps it is the lateness of the hour, or the fact that she would rather be doing anything but finances, or simply the satisfaction of discussing a thing that she is the unquestionable authority on, but there is something agreeable to this. They should have lateness conversations more often; perhaps Mr. Fitz would be slightly less prone to argue through subsequent others.]
Did your employer arrange the introduction? Between yourself and your wife. Or were you acquainted prior to the work?