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."
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."
Rifters were pickier than expected, who knew? Jude smiles back, takes a slice of his own and covers it, bites into it. The taste covers the urge to sneeze at the strong scent of Gela's herbal tea.
"What are you drinking?" he asks. "Smells like you're trying to fight a cold."
"More for me!" A terrible shame. She lifts her cup with the hand that isn't holding bread, holds it out for Jude to see she, "Made it myself."
The contents swirl about. They smell very strong but taste even stronger, almost bitter. There is ginger in there, elfroot, and something red and clumpy floating around on the surface, maybe flower petals? Apparently you have to strain it as you drink it, with your own teeth. "It's for luck," Gela explains, "And stomach ache."
Jude leans in to waft a bit of it toward him, and the fact that it immediately grows so strong makes him very happy he didn't put his face right next to it. He'd have been rude as hell and coughed everywhere.
"Now what are you cultivating luck for?" he asks, lifting both eyebrows, discreetly clearing his throat into his fist.
"All sorts," Gela says, giving him a look over the rim of the cup as she lifts it to her mouth, "Who would say no to any extra?"
Jude, perhaps, but she thinks privately that he probably doesn't need any luck. He connects so easily with other people, and that can often be a stand in for any good fortune. Plus, she has to admit once she's returned to her bread, "It's mainly on account of our approachin' Chantry guest."
Jude returns to his own bread, doctoring each piece and putting it back on the plate, methodical and a little childish, maybe. He likes to eat it in exact ratios of bread to butter and jam.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a grumble of assent and an actual growl, too deep for human hearing.
"The Gallows is shaking in their boots. Makes it hard to keep an open mind."
The low grumbling gives Gela an odd shiver, which she resolutely ignores because they are at work, now. They are talking about work things. She puts bread into her mouth, and chews.
"Yes," she admits, glancing sideways at him, "How much do you know about the Chantry, out of curiousity?"
"Conflicting things," Jude admits. "Mostly to the tune of Templars and mages and mage circles. The story of the original Blights and how they came to be, the profaning of the Golden City, the basic story of Andraste. The basic tenets of the faith."
Bits and pieces and chunks.
"The Chantry itself and the hierarchy? Very little."
She finishes what she's eating, licks a smudge of honey from her thumb. "I'm not so sure what it's like elsewhere; in Nevarra we have the Chantry, the templars, and they regulate the use of magic like they would anywhere else. I'm not sure they have the most political power, but their presence is huge."
Conversationally, "I grew up prayin' to Andraste. We all did."
A neutral thing, to Jude. He's never much understood religion, but it means very much to some of the people he cares deeply about, and he respects it for that reason.
"Even the places that don't have a lot of Chantry activity, the attitudes are still there even if the Chant isn't. When I first came, I got to thinking that it was the culture. Still detangling what is and isn't."
"It is. They have a lot of political power, so they get to decide."
Whether or not they are the dominant power in Nevarra is... debatable, she thinks, but she won't ruin this lovely breakfast they're having by speaking of the Mortalitasi. Still, her brow is furrowed, gaze fixed on her plate. "Have you been asked to speak with her?"
Jude nods, as if he knows what she's talking about. He might not, but he understands the flow of power, and that current runs deep enough to pull everything with it downstream.
"Yeah," she says with a deep sigh, sitting back in his seat, spreading his thighs to put his feet firmly on the floor.
"The higher-ups want a smile and a warm welcome. S'pose we can't blame them for thinking I'm suited. You?"
Her gaze flickers for a second toward his lap, and she hopes he doesn't notice, busying herself with a gulp of tea, and then carefully getting a flower petal off the flat of one front tooth.
"Makes sense." Him being so likeable and beautiful and all, "Me too.
Do you think they chose us because we're still quite new?"
And not in possession of many deep, uncomfortable truths about Riftwatch?
Gela nods, fascinated, her chin in her hand. She says, "I think they liked to be listened to. My family are merchants. We had all sorts of customers, and older women like to hear that they're right, I think. And be asked questions, because it show you're listenin'.
"All good- they can spot insincerity a mile away, so don't stretch too hard, don't play it up. Ask about the things that interest you.
"Everybody likes to hear they're right, but if you're not sure she's right, don't say she is, don't disagree. Ask another question, or tell her you hadn't considered that before."
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Action;
"Don't know if you like rhubarb," he says, "But this is the first batch."
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"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."
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Rifters were pickier than expected, who knew? Jude smiles back, takes a slice of his own and covers it, bites into it. The taste covers the urge to sneeze at the strong scent of Gela's herbal tea.
"What are you drinking?" he asks. "Smells like you're trying to fight a cold."
no subject
The contents swirl about. They smell very strong but taste even stronger, almost bitter. There is ginger in there, elfroot, and something red and clumpy floating around on the surface, maybe flower petals? Apparently you have to strain it as you drink it, with your own teeth. "It's for luck," Gela explains, "And stomach ache."
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"Now what are you cultivating luck for?" he asks, lifting both eyebrows, discreetly clearing his throat into his fist.
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Jude, perhaps, but she thinks privately that he probably doesn't need any luck. He connects so easily with other people, and that can often be a stand in for any good fortune. Plus, she has to admit once she's returned to her bread, "It's mainly on account of our approachin' Chantry guest."
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Jude returns to his own bread, doctoring each piece and putting it back on the plate, methodical and a little childish, maybe. He likes to eat it in exact ratios of bread to butter and jam.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a grumble of assent and an actual growl, too deep for human hearing.
"The Gallows is shaking in their boots. Makes it hard to keep an open mind."
no subject
"Yes," she admits, glancing sideways at him, "How much do you know about the Chantry, out of curiousity?"
no subject
"Conflicting things," Jude admits. "Mostly to the tune of Templars and mages and mage circles. The story of the original Blights and how they came to be, the profaning of the Golden City, the basic story of Andraste. The basic tenets of the faith."
Bits and pieces and chunks.
"The Chantry itself and the hierarchy? Very little."
no subject
She finishes what she's eating, licks a smudge of honey from her thumb. "I'm not so sure what it's like elsewhere; in Nevarra we have the Chantry, the templars, and they regulate the use of magic like they would anywhere else. I'm not sure they have the most political power, but their presence is huge."
Conversationally, "I grew up prayin' to Andraste. We all did."
no subject
A neutral thing, to Jude. He's never much understood religion, but it means very much to some of the people he cares deeply about, and he respects it for that reason.
"Even the places that don't have a lot of Chantry activity, the attitudes are still there even if the Chant isn't. When I first came, I got to thinking that it was the culture. Still detangling what is and isn't."
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Whether or not they are the dominant power in Nevarra is... debatable, she thinks, but she won't ruin this lovely breakfast they're having by speaking of the Mortalitasi. Still, her brow is furrowed, gaze fixed on her plate. "Have you been asked to speak with her?"
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"Yeah," she says with a deep sigh, sitting back in his seat, spreading his thighs to put his feet firmly on the floor.
"The higher-ups want a smile and a warm welcome. S'pose we can't blame them for thinking I'm suited. You?"
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"Makes sense." Him being so likeable and beautiful and all, "Me too.
Do you think they chose us because we're still quite new?"
And not in possession of many deep, uncomfortable truths about Riftwatch?
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"No reputation to color things."
Either for good or for ill.
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"You've got a big family." He's spoken about it a few times, here and there. "Got any tips? For endearin' yourself to older women."
She might be teasing him.
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"Offer to help. Be on time. Do what you say you will. And if they give you advice, thank them."
All basics, but none of them have ever steered him wrong.
"Sincere compliments. If you think something nice about her, say it out loud."
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Am I close?"
customer service Jude
"Everybody likes to hear they're right, but if you're not sure she's right, don't say she is, don't disagree. Ask another question, or tell her you hadn't considered that before."
irl snort
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"Be serious!" This is an important mission, Jude.
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