Post by pastels on Feb 25, 2019 12:34:03 GMT
“Oh, brothers,” Proserpina sighed, wistful, as Aislinn mentioned her own siblings in passing. “They never quite grow up, do they? Our youngest is a fearsome warrior these days, popular with the lads and ladies alike, but I fear I can’t e’er forget him trying to see how many cookies he could fit in his mouth.” With a snippet of a laugh at the image it brought to her mind, the tiefling added, “The answer was three. They were big cookies.” Proserpina willingly talked more about her siblings—she wouldn’t dare put it to words because she too feared that the knowledge could be used against her, but they truly were her pride and joy—but didn’t delve any further into the other woman’s situation, out of tact.
She wore a serious expression, then, as she shared her criticisms on the “fashion” statement of Waterdeep nobility, but it softened when she received laughter in response. “I’m pleased that you find this amusing. I for one will surely perish before wearing such a thing,” Proserpina retorted and shook her head, chains softly clinking along with the gesture. A smile graced her features as the question of breathing came to light. “With a great deal of effort and an equally lacking amount of dignity.”
The tiefling leaned back and listened to Aislinn’s answer, although the leisure was short-lived. The girl announced her intention to leave after gulping down the last of her drink; Proserpina didn’t need to look down to see that her cup was on its last dregs, too. Her smile grew in benevolence and her eyes twinkled, almost as bright as the medallions on her shoulders. “Oh, of course! Although I daresay I must thank you. It was a lovely exchange! I was glad I asked.” As she was speaking, a blurred object skirted past the corner of her vision, and she glanced towards the bar to see Mother Jalyth waving—the matron was everlasting patience incarnate to have allowed their conversation to continue on for so long. She knew from the first day that even someone with a quarter of her sway could weasel out of the day’s work very easily, but Proserpina considered herself too professional to shirk from her performances. She nodded back at her employer then turned towards Aislinn. “And as fate has decreed, it seems I must go back to my work as well!”
Proserpina stood up first. She flexed her hand over her chest, as before, and a narrow thread of white star-burst blooms snaked down her knuckles. “It was a pleasure. Warm days and pleasant winds to you, dear Aislinn. But before you depart, I have one last question,” she laughed and continued, aware of how her statement could be received in their current context, “Oh, I know—it’s cheating, I’ve posed questions twice in a row, but humor me! I must ask: will I e’er see you again?” The inquiry was posed with a kind smile; a request for the future, not an imposition.
She wore a serious expression, then, as she shared her criticisms on the “fashion” statement of Waterdeep nobility, but it softened when she received laughter in response. “I’m pleased that you find this amusing. I for one will surely perish before wearing such a thing,” Proserpina retorted and shook her head, chains softly clinking along with the gesture. A smile graced her features as the question of breathing came to light. “With a great deal of effort and an equally lacking amount of dignity.”
The tiefling leaned back and listened to Aislinn’s answer, although the leisure was short-lived. The girl announced her intention to leave after gulping down the last of her drink; Proserpina didn’t need to look down to see that her cup was on its last dregs, too. Her smile grew in benevolence and her eyes twinkled, almost as bright as the medallions on her shoulders. “Oh, of course! Although I daresay I must thank you. It was a lovely exchange! I was glad I asked.” As she was speaking, a blurred object skirted past the corner of her vision, and she glanced towards the bar to see Mother Jalyth waving—the matron was everlasting patience incarnate to have allowed their conversation to continue on for so long. She knew from the first day that even someone with a quarter of her sway could weasel out of the day’s work very easily, but Proserpina considered herself too professional to shirk from her performances. She nodded back at her employer then turned towards Aislinn. “And as fate has decreed, it seems I must go back to my work as well!”
Proserpina stood up first. She flexed her hand over her chest, as before, and a narrow thread of white star-burst blooms snaked down her knuckles. “It was a pleasure. Warm days and pleasant winds to you, dear Aislinn. But before you depart, I have one last question,” she laughed and continued, aware of how her statement could be received in their current context, “Oh, I know—it’s cheating, I’ve posed questions twice in a row, but humor me! I must ask: will I e’er see you again?” The inquiry was posed with a kind smile; a request for the future, not an imposition.