Sepúlveda vanishes: fare well for now, ominous cold, frost & fortune. There is a submerged glint (barrow treasure, dredged up out of a still [holy] water) in Pen's eye, something quizzical about the cant of her head. Ned. Edward? Eddard? Ned, Nettle. Nettle Ned: stinging, accusatory, anxious but a balm (perhaps), How do you know how to trust? He wants to know, and Nicholas is in the opinion of Mars the perfect person to frame a reply. A reply to a question like that: it is scaffolding, on which to hang later conversations. Nicholas and Ned and Margot and Pen and Pen's attention is shared equally, and of course it is intent and present and direct, but just this: a lovely sword, laid on a mantle, votary prayer stone, pick it up (dare you) but it will still only be present.
Nuances, certainly! The way she looks at Ned, clear-eyed and frank but frank is not the same as open and poise lends her a reserve dam against whatever passionate response she might have a few years ago flooded him with. Both Pen and Nicholas are even, steady, steadying; the way Pen looks at Margot is the same as how she looks at Ned (Pen can school herself to be studious), not quite struck but almost, we are matches and we burn when we are struck. Inviting, even: curious. And the way she looks at Nicholas during this portion of the conversation: like he is a cup of moonlight, see, a ring made of owl-light, and the night's too dark and it's been too fallow of wonder a hard cold season and now here here is that Mystery come again familiar and beloved, although by the time Nick glances at Pen to see again if she wants to add anything, her expression is one of sharply drawn together brows crinkling forehead heard a wrong note a sour note oh but no that is no disagreement sense of fairness and justice ringing pea under a hundred mattresses can feel it how to express it without being -
- hmmmm. Meanwhile: what's a chantry?
"A club, and-or a club house. Often along the lines of those fancy athletic clubs that were popular once, the ones where you can stay for a while and are chalk-full of amenities, or one where there are different levels of membership. Sometimes it's a school. Sometimes it has grown up around a sacred space or a divine one, a magical site where you can be touched by enchantment or take a bath in power."
Nuances, certainly! The way she looks at Ned, clear-eyed and frank but frank is not the same as open and poise lends her a reserve dam against whatever passionate response she might have a few years ago flooded him with. Both Pen and Nicholas are even, steady, steadying; the way Pen looks at Margot is the same as how she looks at Ned (Pen can school herself to be studious), not quite struck but almost, we are matches and we burn when we are struck. Inviting, even: curious. And the way she looks at Nicholas during this portion of the conversation: like he is a cup of moonlight, see, a ring made of owl-light, and the night's too dark and it's been too fallow of wonder a hard cold season and now here here is that Mystery come again familiar and beloved, although by the time Nick glances at Pen to see again if she wants to add anything, her expression is one of sharply drawn together brows crinkling forehead heard a wrong note a sour note oh but no that is no disagreement sense of fairness and justice ringing pea under a hundred mattresses can feel it how to express it without being -
- hmmmm. Meanwhile: what's a chantry?
"A club, and-or a club house. Often along the lines of those fancy athletic clubs that were popular once, the ones where you can stay for a while and are chalk-full of amenities, or one where there are different levels of membership. Sometimes it's a school. Sometimes it has grown up around a sacred space or a divine one, a magical site where you can be touched by enchantment or take a bath in power."