Griping about class in the morning is answered by an emoji of a violin. Welcome to apprenticeship, Margot.
--
Ten minutes is a lot of time to someone who is versed in the Sphere. They have to wait another sixty seconds after arriving for Sepúlveda to finish whatever the hell it is he's doing inside to prepare his house for guests and when he throws open the door he takes in the state the apprentices are in and chases it with a deep breath.
He's wearing part of a suit. Charcoal paints and waistcoat with a gray shirt and a black tie. The sleeves of the button-down are not cuffed. His intent is to roll them up so they survive his attempts at cooking. His hair has not been combed by anything other than fingers. It appears as if it has been that way since he got out of bed. Whenever that was. He's wearing black-rimmed glasses. No watch. Wedding band on his left hand. They're familiar with his fashion sense by now.
"Damn, you two clean up," says the Etherite and lets them inside.
So: Wine. Offered and taken. They're early. In the kitchen Sepúlveda rolls up his sleeves and starts pulling bags of marinating meat and vegetables out of the refrigerator and piling them up on the counter.
Who are we meeting, anyways?
"His name--" He claps the refrigerator closed and starts to pour his own glass of wine. "--is Nicholas Hyde. He's a hospice counselor. We 'met' at work, for given values of 'met' and 'work,' about a month or so ago." Quick swallow of wine. "He belongs to the Chakravanti, which is a tradition of folks who deal with Fate and Death and so on and so forth. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to discuss his Work with you." Hard to gauge if he's being sarcastic or not. They are beginning to learn how dry is the Doc's sense of humor. "As for Pen--"
A beat. He sighs through his nose and takes a thick swallow of wine.
"Pen, if she is who I think she is, is a Hermetic of House Flambeau." Another thick swallow of wine. "We've met, before. Years ago." He sets down the wine. "She and Nicholas are married." His fingers wiggle as if trying to remember what they were doing, and then he remembers something that happened weeks ago and points between the two of them. "If you have any Hogwarts analogies percolating, get them out of your brainpans now."
--
Ten minutes is a lot of time to someone who is versed in the Sphere. They have to wait another sixty seconds after arriving for Sepúlveda to finish whatever the hell it is he's doing inside to prepare his house for guests and when he throws open the door he takes in the state the apprentices are in and chases it with a deep breath.
He's wearing part of a suit. Charcoal paints and waistcoat with a gray shirt and a black tie. The sleeves of the button-down are not cuffed. His intent is to roll them up so they survive his attempts at cooking. His hair has not been combed by anything other than fingers. It appears as if it has been that way since he got out of bed. Whenever that was. He's wearing black-rimmed glasses. No watch. Wedding band on his left hand. They're familiar with his fashion sense by now.
"Damn, you two clean up," says the Etherite and lets them inside.
So: Wine. Offered and taken. They're early. In the kitchen Sepúlveda rolls up his sleeves and starts pulling bags of marinating meat and vegetables out of the refrigerator and piling them up on the counter.
Who are we meeting, anyways?
"His name--" He claps the refrigerator closed and starts to pour his own glass of wine. "--is Nicholas Hyde. He's a hospice counselor. We 'met' at work, for given values of 'met' and 'work,' about a month or so ago." Quick swallow of wine. "He belongs to the Chakravanti, which is a tradition of folks who deal with Fate and Death and so on and so forth. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to discuss his Work with you." Hard to gauge if he's being sarcastic or not. They are beginning to learn how dry is the Doc's sense of humor. "As for Pen--"
A beat. He sighs through his nose and takes a thick swallow of wine.
"Pen, if she is who I think she is, is a Hermetic of House Flambeau." Another thick swallow of wine. "We've met, before. Years ago." He sets down the wine. "She and Nicholas are married." His fingers wiggle as if trying to remember what they were doing, and then he remembers something that happened weeks ago and points between the two of them. "If you have any Hogwarts analogies percolating, get them out of your brainpans now."
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
-- ixphaelaeon