The disbelief is enough to crack that smile all the way open, though it morphs halfway through into a grimace at the question. As ludicrous as it all sounds, he's well aware of what Fontaine's legal system might sound like to anyone unfamiliar to it. ]
Actually, you get sent to prison. Usually only for a few days, mind, but a trip behind bars all the same.
[ He shrugs. ]
You'd think a fine would involve much less paperwork, and yet.
[ At worst, Adrian might have expected something like a holding cell, the sort of place that particularly disorderly drunks might be sent for the night to sober up. It's not that brutal punishments are without precedent in Faerûn; he's seen the hands and fingers taken from petty thieves and the like, but even so... This is condiments, pets, and petty amusements. ]
That's outrageous. What justification could they possibly have... Or is it that some tyrant has become drunk with power?
[ That would be a situation he knows all too well. ]
[ Furina, a tyrant. The thought is a little laughable, even if some of her previous actions could have certainly been viewed as such through a particular lens. It's certainly enough to make him smile ruefully. ]
It's a long story, from what I'm told. But I do believe the Palais Mermonia is trying to change things for the better.
[ Whether or not they end up successful though.....Magic 8 Ball says to try again later. ]
Say, you wouldn't happen to have [ what was it again ] a phone, would you? If we're both reading the room right, it doesn't seem as though our gainful employment will be lasting much longer.
[ this is my extremely weak excuse to grab adrian's number so i can hassle him with spam in the future, please indulge me, thank you ]
Then I wish your Palais Mermonia the best of luck. Changing a place for the better is never as easy as letting it fall to ruin.
[ And that isn't just true of Barovia. ]
Oh — yes, one moment. [ Adrian's hands disappear into his cabbage suit so he can root around in his pockets and retrieve his phone. He pokes at the buttons with a clear lack of familiarity, but he can sort of get by. ] They showed me how to add a number to my 'phone book'... strange name, if you ask me, when it's not a book... A useful device, none the less.
[ He'll give out his number without a second thought please spam him and don't mind that it takes him 30 years to write each text message. ] Perhaps we can continue our game another time?
[ Why call it a 'phone book' when it's not a book indeed.... Likewise, why call the little squiggle game on their phones Snake when it clearly resembles a worm more? The mysteries of modern technology.
Regardless, the exchange of numbers goes smoothly despite the lack of familiarity from both parties, and then it's Wriothesley's turn to carefully slide his phone into the depths of his cucumber costume. ]
Absolutely. You seem like the kind of guy with a lot of stories to tell. I'd hate to miss out on any of them.
[ watch me handwave the rest of this so i can show up in your inbox later instead ]
[ So Arlecchino is ready to be spammed with all of his afternoon tea pictures then....good to know. ]
I'll keep that in mind.
[[ He will not be doing that, actually, but the distinction is noted and filed away for later as they participate in their little exchange of phones, with him sliding over his phone for much the same. The information he provides is sparse but satisfactory - just his name (Wriothesley) along with his mobile phone number, all typed in evenly and precisely, though there's a certain look of concentration on his face as his fingers press at the small buttons. It may have been a week or two, but he's still getting used to all these new devices.
If there's room for anything else (address? birthday? what did old phones even include back in the day) he leaves it blank.
The waitress, meanwhile, gets a quick smile and murmured thanks for the tea. Two mugs filled with a dark but still translucent liquid, a slighty floral scent wafting into the air. Nearby are the standard accoutrements he's come to expect: sugar, milk, dainty spoons for stirring. ]
I hope you don't mind earl grey. Though I haven't tried this particular blend yet. Apparently it's a seasonal special.
[ While Wriothesley is polite and friendly with the waitress, The Knave does little more than look at her briefly. Anything more tends to make waitstaff... nervous.
She takes Wriothesley's phone. The buttons being spaced out is more agreeable to her nail situation, so she can type with her actual thumbs, amazing. Either way, it's quick work on her end: the only field she fills on the contact page is her phone number before returning the phone to his side of the table. He can dub her whatever he wishes, be it Knave or Lyney's Dad or Dramatic Edgy Lady. ]
I enjoy classic tastes, but I'm not beyond a little twist here and there.
[ She can't be picky, anyway. Getting dumped with a beater of a motorcycle has taught her that much. If the tea is horrid, she'll simply befriend the milk and sugar instead. ]
Now then. Did you have any propositions of your own?
[ She can be the first to try this new seasonal blend of tea then while he mulls over his own stipulations, of which there are presumably a few but my single-celled brain is struggling to recall them on a Monday morning. Ordinarily they would relate to the Fortress and the residents within, but given that none of that is here right now...
In the meantime, he takes back his phone and slips it back in his pocket. He can add a name later. (It will just be Arlecchino, because he doesn't want to have to answer questions if his phone gets yanked from his hands or stolen.) ]
If you could do me a favor and keep my previous occupation under wraps, I'd appreciate it. You know what they say about fresh starts and leaving everything behind.
[ Even if he would still prefer all of this to be a temporary detour on the journey of his life. Sometimes you are still overly cautious in a brand new place where no one knows you or (probably) cares about your history. ]
I'm happy to do the same for you unless you prefer otherwise.
[ She delicately sips her tea. Hmm. Acceptable, all things considered. (Lynette's brews are better.) She leaves the milk and sugar out of the mix. ]
Very well. I accept on both counts.
[ She wouldn't have minded, exactly, if he'd gone around telling people about her and the Fatui. But there may indeed be merit in a fresh start. ]
Next. In the event of a disagreement between us that cannot be reconciled with words alone, let us hold a duel. The manner of duel shall be proportionate to the nature of the disagreement, and the winner will dictate the new "rule" going forward.
[ This is a more unusual proposition, she knows. For now, she'll lay that out and see what he thinks. ]
[ His teacup is halfway up to his lips when Arlecchino proposes her next stipulation, and it hovers there for a good few seconds as he fully processes what's been said before it lowers slowly back down to the table. ]
We can't just play Rock-Paper-Scissors?
[ Just kidding. Though maybe he can propose that as one of the duel methods if the disagreement's minor enough.
No agreement right away as he turns the proposal over in his mind. Having a definite decision made is certainly better than leaving things open-ended, but jumping straight to a fight seems a little excessive. Then again, she never said it had to be a physical duel. (TCG tiebreakers incoming.....?) ]
Is that how disagreements are resolved at the House of the Hearth?
[ She doesn't say yes to rock-paper-scissors, but doesn't say no either. Who knows what the future will hold... While he's thinking, she finally goes for the croissant. Like a civilized person, she cleanly rips off its little croissant head (or tail) and manages to pop it into her mouth flake-free. ]
It's a long-standing tradition in the House. I find it an effective way of managing disputes. Any family will have its share of inner conflict; that much is normal, even healthy. But it is less than healthy when disagreements turn to resentment with no avenue for resolution.
[ The Knave picks up her mug again, resting it atop a black palm. Her expression is even as it has been all this time, her tone matter-of-fact. ]
Competition is the simplest way to address such turbulent feelings. It gives the children a stage on which to express themselves, along with a sense of agency to influence their siblings. Of course, they may challenge me as well if they are dissatisfied with my decisions.
[ It's an interesting tidbit that he rolls around in his mind and then tucks away for later. From an objective standpoint, every word she say is true. And had he not done the exact same thing with Pankration as a way to vent excess energy and frustration (after the establishment of certain rules to maintain order, of course)?
Still: ]
Am I a child in your eyes then, subject to the same laws as the kids in your house?
[ Despite being the older (?) of the two. I'll never trust Genshin estimated ages for as long as I live. Anyway, it's just a jest said lightly, something to keep the air from growing too heavy despite the overall gravity of the topic at hand. His turn now to raise his mug and take a sip of his tea. Not bad, though not his favorite either. ]
I accept. So long as we both agree on the method, all conflicts shall be resolved via a duel.
[ But first, he needs to ask something. ]
Have any of your children ever successfully beaten you in a challenge?
[ Her only response to his little joke is a mild lift of her eyebrows. Good to know that her children's reports were so faithful (not that she had any doubt); the man's dry humor is truly persistent.
Have her children ever beaten her? Simply, ]
No. So you won't need to feel too bad if your own efforts fall short.
[ A bit of arrogance, a small jest of her own. She doesn't mention the Traveler; let them save a bit of face. She takes another sip of her tea. ]
Are there any other burning questions on your mind?
[ She isn't normally one to volunteer information, but she's willing to make this a token of their budding partnership. Naturally, it's easier to trust someone if you know a bit more about them. ]
[ No offense taken though. He knows solidly where he stands and it isn't on the same level as a Fatui Harbinger resplendent with both Vision and Delusion. Hell, he doubts he could even beat Clorinde in a fight, for all that he jokes about it otherwise. It's enough to settle for whatever she's willing to offer while he still has this unique opportunity that's been granted to him. Arguably, information about the Knave is far more useful than whatever pride he might gain in beating her in a fight.
He leans back, assessing. ]
A few, actually. [ But they can start with the easiest one. ] What's your favorite kind of tea?
[ She looks at him. Really Looks at him. Most from Teyvat would curate their questions to a Harbinger very carefully. Wriothesley, on the other hand... well, he certainly seems devoted to his tea-obsessed persona. She'd be inclined to think it was just an act to put her off her guard if she didn't know on good authority that his tea accumen was legitimate.
It's tempting still to dismiss his question outright — but she answers after a brief silence. ]
I'm partial to Darjeeling, but I enjoy any tea with an honest flavor. I'm not a fan of unnecessary additives.
[ And yet not legitimate enough to be invited to one of Miss Lynette's tea parties.....
What an answer though. He looks down at their ordered cups of tea, then back up at Arlecchino. Hmm. He really would have chosen something different had he known. But what's life if not an endless road of learning experiences? (Besides, if she'd really had strong opinions, she could and should have made them known earlier.) ]
I'll keep that in mind for next time. [ Then, without a pause, the same easy expression still on his face: ] Did you really think you would get past the Fortress's defenses by sending children?
[ The tea is good enough. She sips it again and everything as he moves into his next question.
The Knave lowers her mug, wrist settling comfortably on her thigh. She smiles at the provocation — that's more like it. ]
I don't believe the question warrants asking. The results speak for themselves.
[ In the end, what more could she have asked for from that trio's little excursion into the Fortress of Meropide? They uncovered valuable information — granted, with assistance from the Traveler. But Wriothesley's question is more loaded than his easygoing demeanor would suggest. ]
What is the true nature of your complaint, Wriothesley?
[ There are a couple things she can think of... but she'd like to hear what's bothering him most. ]
[ There are only so many samples to go around, they would have made it to introductions eventually. And the young woman is pleasant enough company that he doesn't mind spending another twenty minutes or so lounging out here on this random streetside curb. But neither is he going to say no to introductions so, with a small nod of his head: ]
Wriothesley. Yourself?
[ And then a thought occurs to him. They're both something like outsiders here, unfamiliar with the local traditions. It wouldn't be the worst idea to form a couple ties while he's here, have someone he can call up in times of trouble. ]
You wouldn't happen to have a phone, would you? In case I ever stumble across some strange food and need a second opinion.
[ He's mostly joking about this one. ]
i still don't know how to pronounce his name, sobs
[ His name is not one she's heard before, but that applies to many things here, and she's simply accepted that her time in this place is going to be full of firsts. Especially with no clear path for returning to where she came from (whether that's Barovia or Faerûn), she's already wondering just how long she'll be stuck here.
It seems like for most, the answer to that is "forever" — a reality she's still trying to wrap her head around.
Their thoughts seems to be running along somewhat similar lines, based on his premise for asking for her phone number. She blinks once, twice, then leans back to dig into her cloak pocket for her relatively new phone. ]
Just for that? [ She can gather that he's joking, even if he does it somewhat dryly. ] Let me see...
[ It takes some poking at the buttons to re-find where her number is stored within her own phone, but eventually she pulls it up and then turns it around so that she can show him the screen. As someone new to the idea of phones in general, it hasn't occurred to her that someone would abuse having her number — though even if she did think of that, she wouldn't expect this Wriothesley to be the type. ]
[ The dichotomy of the simplicity of Fern vs. the complexity of Wriothesley.
For a moment, he's not sure if she'll agree; they are both strangers to each other, after all, and his appearance doesn't usually inspire trust upon first meeting. She'd be well within her rights to maintain her privacy. But instead she agrees, pulling out the small device he's become so accustomed to seeing around these parts. Likewise he follows suit, tugging out his own so he can store her number and offer up his—though in his case, it's in the form of sending a quick message. ]
This is Wriothesley.
[ Probably a good thing he said his name aloud first before writing it out..... ]
Thanks. I promisen not to send you too many messages.
i tried to find a youtube video of someone saying it and failed
When it comes to appearances, at least, Fern hasn't blinked at Wriothesley's. In the grand scheme of races and types of peoples in Faerûn, he would be considered run-of-the-mill. It's his actions that matter more to her, and he'd gone along with her gambit to eat a meal in samples without skipping a beat.
Her phone vibrates with a new message and she stares down at it, her brow briefly furrowing when she sees his name written out. She never would have guessed that, but at least now she knows. ]
Right. And I don't type very fast. [ She offers the warning with a frustrated sigh, rather than any sort of sheepishness. ] If I don't respond right away, that's why.
[ Who knows if he'll even message her, but either way, it seems this brief moment of fond-related bonding between them has ended, as she polishes off the last sample and then presses to her feet. ]
I should get back. [ Back where, she doesn't say. But with a parting nod, off she goes. ]
I'm still getting the hang of it myself, so there's no rush.
[ Even with how advanced Fontaine is compared to places like Mondstadt and Liyue, it doesn't hold a candle to all the things he's seen here. And while he's always been quick on the uptake, there's only so much he can learn and retain in one go. ]
Just make sure to reply eventually, alright? Otherwise I might think something happened to you.
[ Half joke, half not. They may not be friends in any way but her company had been pleasant enough the past half hour, and he feels more of a kinship with her than many of the others he's met in the strange place. But it's not enough for him to keep her and with a small wave, he watches her go. ]
[ Wriothesley glances around them, at the flickering street lamps below them and the stretch of tall buildings beyond. Different sights that prompt a different lifestyle. And while he's always been adaptable, these things still take some time. ]
I guess you could say I'm not used to having this much free time. Or used to this much noise.
[ The Fortress is loud and creaking in its own ways, but it's still a different pace from actual city life. Still, he prefers this over the squeaky clean guise the upper levels of the Court put on. It feels a little more honest here. ]
You seem like you've settled in pretty well though. Maybe you can offer up some tips, if you're feeling generous.
[ Brooding hotness aside, the guy looks like he knows what he's doing. (Or maybe it's because of the appeal of said brooding hotness? Who can say.) ]
[The nice thing about these places in a city, they don't bother to put on pretense. Not so different, no matter where you end up. What you see is what you get...and then some. He levels Wriothesley with a searching look, like he's trying to suss out what he's usually doing with all his not-so-free time.]
That would be pretty magnanimous of me.
[Does he look like a generous guy to you? (It's not a no.) Of course—]
[ Hey, looks can be deceiving? But if he's learned anything from roughing it out on the streets, it's that nothing's ever given out for free. In a show of theatrics, Wriothesley pulls the (empty) pockets inside out of his sweatshirt. Nothing there but his sad beat-up phone. A tragedy. ]
Seeing as how I have nothing on my person right now, there's not a whole lot I can offer.
[ But. But!!!! ]
But if you don't mind an exchange of sorts, I'd be happy to share anything interesting I learn while I'm here.
[Now you're talking, Wriothesley. Information is always going to be a better bang for your metaphorical buck. Still, he makes a show of thinking it over, hands stuffed back into the pockets of his jacket, legs crossed at the ankle. But. (But!!!—) He swings his feet off the ledge of the roof to stand up properly.]
I think we could come to an arrangement.
[Time to find out what this guy counts as "interesting," I guess!]
[ Can't believe bartering still works in this economy. Amazing. He'll try not to look too excited by the prospect of his prospects turning around. Instead, he'll linger where he is, stuffing his pocket linings (and then his hands) back into his jacket pocket while Jason swings back around. ]
Anyone I should steer clear of. Anyone who might be more important than they look. [ Which could mean any number of things, really. ] Since I don't have anything to offer you right now, I can't exactly be picky, now can I?
[I mean he'll also take some fat stacks of cash if Wriothesley has them, but since that's off the table, apparently—
He hums, like he's still considering it. This is a negotiation, and all.]
I could manage some of that.
[It's shit he'll be keeping tabs on, anyway, and he's not in a position to turn down a source. And if he changes his mind, well. No one says he has to follow through. As for offers—]
Could start with a name.
[Don't know how you do business, bud, but he'd like a little something up front!]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
adrian.
[ lol. lmao, even
The disbelief is enough to crack that smile all the way open, though it morphs halfway through into a grimace at the question. As ludicrous as it all sounds, he's well aware of what Fontaine's legal system might sound like to anyone unfamiliar to it. ]
Actually, you get sent to prison. Usually only for a few days, mind, but a trip behind bars all the same.
[ He shrugs. ]
You'd think a fine would involve much less paperwork, and yet.
no subject
[ At worst, Adrian might have expected something like a holding cell, the sort of place that particularly disorderly drunks might be sent for the night to sober up. It's not that brutal punishments are without precedent in Faerûn; he's seen the hands and fingers taken from petty thieves and the like, but even so... This is condiments, pets, and petty amusements. ]
That's outrageous. What justification could they possibly have... Or is it that some tyrant has become drunk with power?
[ That would be a situation he knows all too well. ]
no subject
It's a long story, from what I'm told. But I do believe the Palais Mermonia is trying to change things for the better.
[ Whether or not they end up successful though.....Magic 8 Ball says to try again later. ]
Say, you wouldn't happen to have [ what was it again ] a phone, would you? If we're both reading the room right, it doesn't seem as though our gainful employment will be lasting much longer.
[ this is my extremely weak excuse to grab adrian's number so i can hassle him with spam in the future, please indulge me, thank you ]
no subject
[ And that isn't just true of Barovia. ]
Oh — yes, one moment. [ Adrian's hands disappear into his cabbage suit so he can root around in his pockets and retrieve his phone. He pokes at the buttons with a clear lack of familiarity, but he can sort of get by. ] They showed me how to add a number to my 'phone book'... strange name, if you ask me, when it's not a book... A useful device, none the less.
[ He'll give out his number without a second thought please spam him and don't mind that it takes him 30 years to write each text message. ] Perhaps we can continue our game another time?
no subject
Regardless, the exchange of numbers goes smoothly despite the lack of familiarity from both parties, and then it's Wriothesley's turn to carefully slide his phone into the depths of his cucumber costume. ]
Absolutely. You seem like the kind of guy with a lot of stories to tell. I'd hate to miss out on any of them.
[ watch me handwave the rest of this so i can show up in your inbox later instead ]
no subject
arlecchino.
[ So Arlecchino is ready to be spammed with all of his afternoon tea pictures then....good to know. ]
I'll keep that in mind.
[[ He will not be doing that, actually, but the distinction is noted and filed away for later as they participate in their little exchange of phones, with him sliding over his phone for much the same. The information he provides is sparse but satisfactory - just his name (Wriothesley) along with his mobile phone number, all typed in evenly and precisely, though there's a certain look of concentration on his face as his fingers press at the small buttons. It may have been a week or two, but he's still getting used to all these new devices.
If there's room for anything else (address? birthday? what did old phones even include back in the day) he leaves it blank.
The waitress, meanwhile, gets a quick smile and murmured thanks for the tea. Two mugs filled with a dark but still translucent liquid, a slighty floral scent wafting into the air. Nearby are the standard accoutrements he's come to expect: sugar, milk, dainty spoons for stirring. ]
I hope you don't mind earl grey. Though I haven't tried this particular blend yet. Apparently it's a seasonal special.
[ It's strawberry rhubarb. ]
no subject
She takes Wriothesley's phone. The buttons being spaced out is more agreeable to her nail situation, so she can type with her actual thumbs, amazing. Either way, it's quick work on her end: the only field she fills on the contact page is her phone number before returning the phone to his side of the table. He can dub her whatever he wishes, be it Knave or Lyney's Dad or Dramatic Edgy Lady. ]
I enjoy classic tastes, but I'm not beyond a little twist here and there.
[ She can't be picky, anyway. Getting dumped with a beater of a motorcycle has taught her that much. If the tea is horrid, she'll simply befriend the milk and sugar instead. ]
Now then. Did you have any propositions of your own?
no subject
In the meantime, he takes back his phone and slips it back in his pocket. He can add a name later. (It will just be Arlecchino, because he doesn't want to have to answer questions if his phone gets yanked from his hands or stolen.) ]
If you could do me a favor and keep my previous occupation under wraps, I'd appreciate it. You know what they say about fresh starts and leaving everything behind.
[ Even if he would still prefer all of this to be a temporary detour on the journey of his life. Sometimes you are still overly cautious in a brand new place where no one knows you or (probably) cares about your history. ]
I'm happy to do the same for you unless you prefer otherwise.
no subject
Very well. I accept on both counts.
[ She wouldn't have minded, exactly, if he'd gone around telling people about her and the Fatui. But there may indeed be merit in a fresh start. ]
Next. In the event of a disagreement between us that cannot be reconciled with words alone, let us hold a duel. The manner of duel shall be proportionate to the nature of the disagreement, and the winner will dictate the new "rule" going forward.
[ This is a more unusual proposition, she knows. For now, she'll lay that out and see what he thinks. ]
no subject
We can't just play Rock-Paper-Scissors?
[ Just kidding. Though maybe he can propose that as one of the duel methods if the disagreement's minor enough.
No agreement right away as he turns the proposal over in his mind. Having a definite decision made is certainly better than leaving things open-ended, but jumping straight to a fight seems a little excessive. Then again, she never said it had to be a physical duel. (TCG tiebreakers incoming.....?) ]
Is that how disagreements are resolved at the House of the Hearth?
no subject
It's a long-standing tradition in the House. I find it an effective way of managing disputes. Any family will have its share of inner conflict; that much is normal, even healthy. But it is less than healthy when disagreements turn to resentment with no avenue for resolution.
[ The Knave picks up her mug again, resting it atop a black palm. Her expression is even as it has been all this time, her tone matter-of-fact. ]
Competition is the simplest way to address such turbulent feelings. It gives the children a stage on which to express themselves, along with a sense of agency to influence their siblings. Of course, they may challenge me as well if they are dissatisfied with my decisions.
no subject
Still: ]
Am I a child in your eyes then, subject to the same laws as the kids in your house?
[ Despite being the older (?) of the two. I'll never trust Genshin estimated ages for as long as I live. Anyway, it's just a jest said lightly, something to keep the air from growing too heavy despite the overall gravity of the topic at hand. His turn now to raise his mug and take a sip of his tea. Not bad, though not his favorite either. ]
I accept. So long as we both agree on the method, all conflicts shall be resolved via a duel.
[ But first, he needs to ask something. ]
Have any of your children ever successfully beaten you in a challenge?
no subject
Have her children ever beaten her? Simply, ]
No. So you won't need to feel too bad if your own efforts fall short.
[ A bit of arrogance, a small jest of her own. She doesn't mention the Traveler; let them save a bit of face. She takes another sip of her tea. ]
Are there any other burning questions on your mind?
[ She isn't normally one to volunteer information, but she's willing to make this a token of their budding partnership. Naturally, it's easier to trust someone if you know a bit more about them. ]
no subject
Ouch.
[ No offense taken though. He knows solidly where he stands and it isn't on the same level as a Fatui Harbinger resplendent with both Vision and Delusion. Hell, he doubts he could even beat Clorinde in a fight, for all that he jokes about it otherwise. It's enough to settle for whatever she's willing to offer while he still has this unique opportunity that's been granted to him. Arguably, information about the Knave is far more useful than whatever pride he might gain in beating her in a fight.
He leans back, assessing. ]
A few, actually. [ But they can start with the easiest one. ] What's your favorite kind of tea?
no subject
It's tempting still to dismiss his question outright — but she answers after a brief silence. ]
I'm partial to Darjeeling, but I enjoy any tea with an honest flavor. I'm not a fan of unnecessary additives.
no subject
What an answer though. He looks down at their ordered cups of tea, then back up at Arlecchino. Hmm. He really would have chosen something different had he known. But what's life if not an endless road of learning experiences? (Besides, if she'd really had strong opinions, she could and should have made them known earlier.) ]
I'll keep that in mind for next time. [ Then, without a pause, the same easy expression still on his face: ] Did you really think you would get past the Fortress's defenses by sending children?
no subject
The Knave lowers her mug, wrist settling comfortably on her thigh. She smiles at the provocation — that's more like it. ]
I don't believe the question warrants asking. The results speak for themselves.
[ In the end, what more could she have asked for from that trio's little excursion into the Fortress of Meropide? They uncovered valuable information — granted, with assistance from the Traveler. But Wriothesley's question is more loaded than his easygoing demeanor would suggest. ]
What is the true nature of your complaint, Wriothesley?
[ There are a couple things she can think of... but she'd like to hear what's bothering him most. ]
fern
[ There are only so many samples to go around, they would have made it to introductions eventually. And the young woman is pleasant enough company that he doesn't mind spending another twenty minutes or so lounging out here on this random streetside curb. But neither is he going to say no to introductions so, with a small nod of his head: ]
Wriothesley. Yourself?
[ And then a thought occurs to him. They're both something like outsiders here, unfamiliar with the local traditions. It wouldn't be the worst idea to form a couple ties while he's here, have someone he can call up in times of trouble. ]
You wouldn't happen to have a phone, would you? In case I ever stumble across some strange food and need a second opinion.
[ He's mostly joking about this one. ]
i still don't know how to pronounce his name, sobs
[ His name is not one she's heard before, but that applies to many things here, and she's simply accepted that her time in this place is going to be full of firsts. Especially with no clear path for returning to where she came from (whether that's Barovia or Faerûn), she's already wondering just how long she'll be stuck here.
It seems like for most, the answer to that is "forever" — a reality she's still trying to wrap her head around.
Their thoughts seems to be running along somewhat similar lines, based on his premise for asking for her phone number. She blinks once, twice, then leans back to dig into her cloak pocket for her relatively new phone. ]
Just for that? [ She can gather that he's joking, even if he does it somewhat dryly. ] Let me see...
[ It takes some poking at the buttons to re-find where her number is stored within her own phone, but eventually she pulls it up and then turns it around so that she can show him the screen. As someone new to the idea of phones in general, it hasn't occurred to her that someone would abuse having her number — though even if she did think of that, she wouldn't expect this Wriothesley to be the type. ]
i don't think anyone does so it's okay
For a moment, he's not sure if she'll agree; they are both strangers to each other, after all, and his appearance doesn't usually inspire trust upon first meeting. She'd be well within her rights to maintain her privacy. But instead she agrees, pulling out the small device he's become so accustomed to seeing around these parts. Likewise he follows suit, tugging out his own so he can store her number and offer up his—though in his case, it's in the form of sending a quick message. ]
This is Wriothesley.
[ Probably a good thing he said his name aloud first before writing it out..... ]
Thanks. I promisen not to send you too many messages.
i tried to find a youtube video of someone saying it and failed
When it comes to appearances, at least, Fern hasn't blinked at Wriothesley's. In the grand scheme of races and types of peoples in Faerûn, he would be considered run-of-the-mill. It's his actions that matter more to her, and he'd gone along with her gambit to eat a meal in samples without skipping a beat.
Her phone vibrates with a new message and she stares down at it, her brow briefly furrowing when she sees his name written out. She never would have guessed that, but at least now she knows. ]
Right. And I don't type very fast. [ She offers the warning with a frustrated sigh, rather than any sort of sheepishness. ] If I don't respond right away, that's why.
[ Who knows if he'll even message her, but either way, it seems this brief moment of fond-related bonding between them has ended, as she polishes off the last sample and then presses to her feet. ]
I should get back. [ Back where, she doesn't say. But with a parting nod, off she goes. ]
no subject
[ Even with how advanced Fontaine is compared to places like Mondstadt and Liyue, it doesn't hold a candle to all the things he's seen here. And while he's always been quick on the uptake, there's only so much he can learn and retain in one go. ]
Just make sure to reply eventually, alright? Otherwise I might think something happened to you.
[ Half joke, half not. They may not be friends in any way but her company had been pleasant enough the past half hour, and he feels more of a kinship with her than many of the others he's met in the strange place. But it's not enough for him to keep her and with a small wave, he watches her go. ]
jason.
[ Wriothesley glances around them, at the flickering street lamps below them and the stretch of tall buildings beyond. Different sights that prompt a different lifestyle. And while he's always been adaptable, these things still take some time. ]
I guess you could say I'm not used to having this much free time. Or used to this much noise.
[ The Fortress is loud and creaking in its own ways, but it's still a different pace from actual city life. Still, he prefers this over the squeaky clean guise the upper levels of the Court put on. It feels a little more honest here. ]
You seem like you've settled in pretty well though. Maybe you can offer up some tips, if you're feeling generous.
[ Brooding hotness aside, the guy looks like he knows what he's doing. (Or maybe it's because of the appeal of said brooding hotness? Who can say.) ]
why are you like this
That would be pretty magnanimous of me.
[Does he look like a generous guy to you? (It's not a no.) Of course—]
What's in it for me?
because i love and appreciate you 🥺
Seeing as how I have nothing on my person right now, there's not a whole lot I can offer.
[ But. But!!!! ]
But if you don't mind an exchange of sorts, I'd be happy to share anything interesting I learn while I'm here.
squints
I think we could come to an arrangement.
[Time to find out what this guy counts as "interesting," I guess!]
What d'you want to know?
🥺
Anyone I should steer clear of. Anyone who might be more important than they look. [ Which could mean any number of things, really. ] Since I don't have anything to offer you right now, I can't exactly be picky, now can I?
😑
He hums, like he's still considering it. This is a negotiation, and all.]
I could manage some of that.
[It's shit he'll be keeping tabs on, anyway, and he's not in a position to turn down a source. And if he changes his mind, well. No one says he has to follow through. As for offers—]
Could start with a name.
[Don't know how you do business, bud, but he'd like a little something up front!]