Everyday setting meme: FE7
Mar. 28th, 2011 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinon1) Prompt from measuringlife.
The marriage to Priscilla had been a good move. A conciliatory gesture. An acknowledgment that some... unpleasantness had transpired regarding Cornwell, nobody had exactly been in the right, and nothing could be done about it anymore. The survivors were, for the most part, willing to reconcile, and then nobody got to throw the issue in anybody else's teeth anymore. Hector never had to hear about that particular mistake of his brother's ever again.
It had been such a good move that he seemed to think it filled some kind of quota and he never had to be remotely diplomatic or tactful ever again. A disagreement at a recent banquet had nearly come to blows. And today when Priscilla entered his study she found him apparently shoveling a pile of letters into his fireplace.
"Lord Hector," she said carefully, "is there something in all that correspondence that...?"
"What? No." He made no attempt to disguise his actions as he picked up another sheaf of papers from the table and threw it at the fire. "They've just been sitting there for months taking up space. I'm never going to read them."
"But what if they request a response?"
He snorted. "I'm sure some of them do. If it's that important, they'll write another letter."
"And you'll read that letter?"
Hector gave this some thought. "No." Another bundle of documents hissed slightly in the flame. Priscilla winced despite herself.
"Lord Hector, perhaps..."
He rolled his eyes, and she remembered belatedly he preferred that she address him without the "Lord." Still, a lifetime of training in courtly decorum was hard to break. "Yes?" he said, but he didn't sound unkind.
"Perhaps I could handle that business for you. My handwriting is... quite acceptable, or so I'm told, and..."
He shrugged. "Sure, if that makes you happy." He glanced back at the fire. "A bit too late to answer those, though."
(Some months later, Marquess Ostia was heard at a ball remarking to his wife that he'd had no idea they were invited to so damn many parties. She smiled uncertainly, and then they both laughed, and no one had any idea why.)
2) Prompt from raphien.
Limstella didn't have taste buds. She never called this to Lord Nergal's attention because it was a relatively minor oversight, it did not impact her carrying out her purposes in any meaningful way, and it enabled her to drink the vilest, bitterest coffee ever brewed by man or morph without batting an eye. This was a relevant ability. Judging by the Reed brothers' reactions, it could be assumed that Ephidel made coffee exactly matching that description.
"Cream? Sugar?" he offered.
Limstella blinked at him. "That's a pointless question. My answer is the same today as every other Saturday."
He sat down next to her on the couch and sipped his own coffee, which was also undoctored. Because most of his business was with humans, and humans spent an inordinate amount of time eating, he did have a sense of taste - he just liked it this way. "I was being polite."
That would explain it. People did many incomprehensible things in the name of politeness. Such complex social constructions were outside her area of concern. Lord Nergal was holding her in reserve for something else.
"You do join me every Saturday, don't you?" said Ephidel.
"For several months now." There was a high probability he was about to ask why. "My duties don't preclude it."
"Has Lord Nergal assigned you to report on my progress?"
"If I took up espionage functions, you and Sonia would be redundant." She sipped her coffee. The sensations associated with caffeine were pleasant once one was accustomed to them. "Turn on the television, Ephidel."
Lord Nergal intended to send Ephidel on an important task at some point in the next eight months. Ephidel's general purpose was to manipulate others into falling in with Lord Nergal's plans; accordingly, he needed a more thorough understanding of human motivation than did the other morphs. Some part of his study was done through analyzing television, and this was the part Limstella found interesting. Mostly she was interested in the show with the ponies.
For two hours they watched cartoons. Then Limstella rose. "I'm leaving."
"Very well."
But she didn't leave immediately. It occurred to her to ask a question instead. "Have you learned anything useful from this exercise?"
"I believe so." He smirked faintly. "Have you?"
"Perhaps. The content of these shows may lack external validity." She considered examples. "For instance: is knowing truly half the battle?"
"It certainly helps."
"I see. Can we then generalize that the rest is fact? Some of it is inconsistent with the knowledge imparted to me by Lord Nergal."
"Such as...?"
"These references to 'the magic of friendship.' I was under the impression the only types of magic were Anima, Dark, and Light." Ephidel raised his eyebrows. For some reason this gave her the urge to leave. "I may investigate," she said, and let herself out.
The marriage to Priscilla had been a good move. A conciliatory gesture. An acknowledgment that some... unpleasantness had transpired regarding Cornwell, nobody had exactly been in the right, and nothing could be done about it anymore. The survivors were, for the most part, willing to reconcile, and then nobody got to throw the issue in anybody else's teeth anymore. Hector never had to hear about that particular mistake of his brother's ever again.
It had been such a good move that he seemed to think it filled some kind of quota and he never had to be remotely diplomatic or tactful ever again. A disagreement at a recent banquet had nearly come to blows. And today when Priscilla entered his study she found him apparently shoveling a pile of letters into his fireplace.
"Lord Hector," she said carefully, "is there something in all that correspondence that...?"
"What? No." He made no attempt to disguise his actions as he picked up another sheaf of papers from the table and threw it at the fire. "They've just been sitting there for months taking up space. I'm never going to read them."
"But what if they request a response?"
He snorted. "I'm sure some of them do. If it's that important, they'll write another letter."
"And you'll read that letter?"
Hector gave this some thought. "No." Another bundle of documents hissed slightly in the flame. Priscilla winced despite herself.
"Lord Hector, perhaps..."
He rolled his eyes, and she remembered belatedly he preferred that she address him without the "Lord." Still, a lifetime of training in courtly decorum was hard to break. "Yes?" he said, but he didn't sound unkind.
"Perhaps I could handle that business for you. My handwriting is... quite acceptable, or so I'm told, and..."
He shrugged. "Sure, if that makes you happy." He glanced back at the fire. "A bit too late to answer those, though."
(Some months later, Marquess Ostia was heard at a ball remarking to his wife that he'd had no idea they were invited to so damn many parties. She smiled uncertainly, and then they both laughed, and no one had any idea why.)
2) Prompt from raphien.
Limstella didn't have taste buds. She never called this to Lord Nergal's attention because it was a relatively minor oversight, it did not impact her carrying out her purposes in any meaningful way, and it enabled her to drink the vilest, bitterest coffee ever brewed by man or morph without batting an eye. This was a relevant ability. Judging by the Reed brothers' reactions, it could be assumed that Ephidel made coffee exactly matching that description.
"Cream? Sugar?" he offered.
Limstella blinked at him. "That's a pointless question. My answer is the same today as every other Saturday."
He sat down next to her on the couch and sipped his own coffee, which was also undoctored. Because most of his business was with humans, and humans spent an inordinate amount of time eating, he did have a sense of taste - he just liked it this way. "I was being polite."
That would explain it. People did many incomprehensible things in the name of politeness. Such complex social constructions were outside her area of concern. Lord Nergal was holding her in reserve for something else.
"You do join me every Saturday, don't you?" said Ephidel.
"For several months now." There was a high probability he was about to ask why. "My duties don't preclude it."
"Has Lord Nergal assigned you to report on my progress?"
"If I took up espionage functions, you and Sonia would be redundant." She sipped her coffee. The sensations associated with caffeine were pleasant once one was accustomed to them. "Turn on the television, Ephidel."
Lord Nergal intended to send Ephidel on an important task at some point in the next eight months. Ephidel's general purpose was to manipulate others into falling in with Lord Nergal's plans; accordingly, he needed a more thorough understanding of human motivation than did the other morphs. Some part of his study was done through analyzing television, and this was the part Limstella found interesting. Mostly she was interested in the show with the ponies.
For two hours they watched cartoons. Then Limstella rose. "I'm leaving."
"Very well."
But she didn't leave immediately. It occurred to her to ask a question instead. "Have you learned anything useful from this exercise?"
"I believe so." He smirked faintly. "Have you?"
"Perhaps. The content of these shows may lack external validity." She considered examples. "For instance: is knowing truly half the battle?"
"It certainly helps."
"I see. Can we then generalize that the rest is fact? Some of it is inconsistent with the knowledge imparted to me by Lord Nergal."
"Such as...?"
"These references to 'the magic of friendship.' I was under the impression the only types of magic were Anima, Dark, and Light." Ephidel raised his eyebrows. For some reason this gave her the urge to leave. "I may investigate," she said, and let herself out.
