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[sprent]

crystal, action, book, misc

Comments

Action;

[foolsmakeitcolder]

Mornings in the dining hall are usually the best time to catch up. Jude comes out with a plate of breakfast to sit next to Gela, and between them he places a few still-warm slices of bread, along with a little pot of jam.

"Don't know if you like rhubarb," he says, "But this is the first batch."

[sprent]

It is good: he finds Gela there, still waking up judging by how snugly her chin fits in the palm of her hand, propped up by her elbow on the edge of the table. She gives Jude a fond smile, nose scrunching in greeting.

"I love rhubarb." She'll go ahead, in that case, giving her head a gentle shake as she reaches for the jam and knife.

Bad dreams. Worse sleep! The usual. Give her a few moments... she slathers some bread thickly, and lifts it to her nose to sniff before she bites, and sighs. "S'good." Goes nice with the cup of tea she's got already, stinking of herbs, "Thank you."

action, backdated to [mumble].

[luaithre]

The dining hall is not as full as it might be at the peak of dinner hour—a steady churn of people coming and going, broken off conversation, chairs scraping and clay plates and tin cups. If Gela had started her meal in company, she is now set to finish it alone as the table clears.

And then she isn't, a plate set down on opposite her at the same table.

It wouldn't occur to Marcus to ask to do so, or sit down just after, despite that he never has before, certainly hasn't since the Dirthamen temple. He makes for a more ordinary shape out of his armor, less bulk about the shoulders in grey linen, greyer cotton, the faint scent of horse and hay about his person, and also he isn't half-cowering in a simultaneously waterlogged and dust strewn sunken temple bleeding from the leg.

He also has a tankard, and this stays in his hand as he says, "Evening," before taking a swig.

[sprent]

Gela has a fork halfway to her mouth when somebody takes the seat opposite and in lifting her head to say hello, pauses. In a way, she has been waiting for this to happen ever since they returned from Dirthamen, shaken, sore and with each other's secrets, but even anticipation can't stop her heart from racing now.

"Good evening." She won't bother with her fake tone. After a momentary wobble, the fork completes its journey.

He doesn't know a thing... He knows what he saw, but it would have felt unbelievable to him, presented as messily and half-formed as it was at the time. And now, with his memories back, he remembers Gela has no magic.

She says, calm as anything, "How's your leg?"

[laruetheday]

It's probably a little weird, when Clarisse slides into the spot across from Gela at the dining hall.

It's not strange that the two of them are both there at the same time—Clarisse almost never skips meals, and Gela seems to like hanging out in here—but while Clarisse isn't opposed to sitting with someone if they invite her to, she's not typically rushing over to initiate conversation.

Maybe she's overthinking this.

"If you had to apologize to somebody, how would you do it?"

Also, hello.

[sprent]

"Hello," Gela says happily when she sits, smiling: would you like some tea? She's got a pot there, a battered thing, and a cup for her and more nearby. She gestures with one, and mimes pouring while Clarisse speaks.

Yes, no?

"I'd probably just tell them 'I'm sorry', and nicely. How come?"

crystal;

[pathlit]

Gela? It’s Jayce. Quick question— got a few minutes?

[sprent]

Hello Jayce! Yes, I do.

But surely that's not all you want to ask me?

action

[amaizing]

Lia approaches Gela in a corridor off the dining hall.

"Good day!" She says warmly. "Are you--" Lia holds up the note that Gela left in her pigeonhole. "Gela?"

Lia knows for certain that she is, but it is only polite to feign ignorance if they haven't formally met.

[sprent]

Oh, that little note! Gela nods. Presently, her mouth is full. She took a bread roll from the dining hall and decided it would be to go. After she swallows and touches the corners of her mouth with her fingertips, she answers.

"Yes. Hello! Pardon the crumbs."

Ahh, she's put two and two together. "You're Lia?" She only gave things to two people she didn't know this year. "It's good to meet you."

delivered to gela's room.

[ipseite]

( a sampler selection of teas from a specialty shop (shoppe, even) in hightown, in a fine wooden box with segments for each tea. tied to the box, with ribbon, a brief note: )

Mademoiselle Baynrac,

I wish to express my sincerest apologies for both my behaviour during the debacle immediately after our first experience of Granitefell and the inexcusable delay in my acknowledging it. During a difficult time for us all, you were kind and patient; I regret that I was not. My treatment of you was wholly undeserved and will not be repeated.

Sincerely,
Madame de Cedoux

crystal.

[biggame]

[ Let's say their date was interrupted by a sudden rainstorm or something (and not in a sexy way). mea culpa. ]

What do you think about bears?

[ There is context for this question. She was just busy at the time, and forgot to ask until now. ]

[sprent]

I don't know. I don't think about bears often.

(Give her a moment.) I would most likely keep a fair distance from any that I saw.

crystals;

[dissolving]

What's a tailor's favourite tree?

1/3

[sprent]

... I should know this.

[sprent]

A thimble-tree? Imagine if such things existed!

But they don't... let me try again.

[sprent]

... A tree that would like a large coat, and would pay good money so that every branch could have a sleeve...

Hmm!

I give up.

crystal.

[elegiaque]

( it's not hard to bring to mind who in their company is nevarran; the accent is distinct. so: )

You speak the Nevarran language, ouais?

[sprent]

(It is briefly remarkable to Gela that a year ago she would have ducked, frightened, underneath of this question, dodged it entirely, and then wondered for days afterwards what had lead Gwënaelle to believe that of her.

How things change.)

I do. Are you in need of my services?

crystals;

[wythersake]

Mlle. Baynrac, I've been told that you're a skilled tailor. Do you take very small commissions?

[sprent]

Just 'Gela' is fine.

And I do. Please, who told you I am a skilled tailor?

crystal;

[aberratic]

Trademaster Baynrac, Quartermaster Tavane speaking. [ does she sound very fancy and formal, she's trying to. she's also laughing, a little, because it's silly, but they are very serious business people doing very serious business, hmph. ] Are you as fed up with this paper shortage as I am?

[sprent]

Quartermaster Tavane, (rolls quite nicely off the tongue actually,) I am at my wit's end about the paper shortage. If we don't do something about it very soon I may write a letter to my brother on the shirt of a colleague and send them to Cumberland.

You've a plan?

action; nowish

[youwonscience]

She and Gela have managed a few knitting lessons, here and there, though both of them are busy enough that meeting regularly has been somewhat haphazard. Today, though, she has her (metaphorical) Division Head hat on when she goes to track Gela down. Her demeanor isn't stern, or even worried, but the subject on her mind is a bit heavier than how to purl through the back loop.

She tries a few of Gela's usual haunts, in no rush. (She could always use the sending crystal if it was time-sensitive.) Given the autumn weather, Cosima may even be keeping her fingers crossed to find Gela outdoors where they can talk in the sunshine.

[sprent]

Yes, she will find Gela there. Tav is the one who tends the gardens most carefully, and while Gela knows that he uses magic for most of this, she still likes to put in a bit in weeding here and there by hand. She is, in fact, crouched by one of the beds now, carefully pulling out dandelions and chickweed, and laying them on a handkerchief in a row. The bright yellow dandelion heads make this arrangement seem quite cheerful.

She is humming to herself while she works and occasionally telling the plant she is weeding some platitude or encouragement, a "There you go," as she pulls something up, or a more frustrated, "Oh come now," to anything being stubborn.

actionspam, vague timing;

[boeric]

"We are going to label this,"

Standing before one of the haphazard shelves, hands set on her hips (at least one broken bobbin in her sheets that morning). They don't need to get rid of anything, but —

"It will have a place."

[sprent]

Speaking from her bed, having been lounging on it for hours now with her nose in a little book, "What do you mean?"

Gela sits up, hair loose. Glancing from the hands on hips to the shelves she says, "I know where everything is."

Boldly.

as always feel free to change stuff wholecloth etc

[dissolving]

Hand loose in her hair, unwinding a tangle of curl,

"S'pose it wasn't such a bad dream."

Hers. There are things he doesn't tell her, and nightmares are only one: Magic makes her nervous. Home seems fraught. And it's easier, anyway, just talking on the here and now. Last night's dream. Some stupid letter they both read, another supply disruption, the rat he saw run off with a whole and steaming slice of pie. Or that joke they tried to tell Gwen, the one that didn't translate. The weather. The meaning of a rock.

If he's careful, he can pretend that here and now all there is. That they both woke up this morning in their separate rooms, ordinary clerks, and nothing outside. His breath is steady. Maybe tomorrow, it'll snow.

"I got a strange question," Not the sort you ask, if you think the answer's yes. "And y'can say if you don’t want to say. 'S just… d'you feel safe here?"

In Riftwatch, or with him, or in this crowded little room — blessedly empty, for a few hours, of all those who share it.

[sprent]

Gela has her eyes shut to the start of this conversation, attention half on Cedric half on the edge of what she was dreaming about before she woke. The closer she tries to examine it the quicker it slips away, sand through the gaps between her fingers, and she shifts her body in disappointment, feels his hand in her hair. A sigh. "Mmm?"

Waiting, she couches her cheek against pillow and his skin. Outside of the blankets seems cold, a theory she confirms by skating a single leg to the edge of the bed and outside the boundary of warmth, toes instantly scrunching in dislike. Much better here.

Here. Gela, of course, selects the romantic option, eyes still shut.

"Why d'you ask? You're not anticipating an attack, are you?"

They speak Nevarran together in classes where they're supposed to, where deals have been made, but here, in this crowded little room and only the two of them in it, Gela speaks Trade. Soft, "I do."

crystal; timily wimily backdated

[aberratic]

Messere Baynrac, [ this isn't a business call, so it isn't trademaster today, ] do you have a moment? I have a question, but it shouldn't take very long.

[sprent]

I do! Go ahead.

— And you can just call me Gela, Ennaris.