may catch-all!

[feintofhart]

Who: Claude & Various
Where: Around Aldrip!
What: Claude and his encounters around town... again!!
Warnings: None anticipated! If you'd like to hop in on a log, however, please feel free to PM/DM me or hit me up on plurk (here!), and I'd be happy to whip up a starter for you, or you can just wildcard me in here! I've got my plotting comment here for the month if you want to take a peek -- Claude will the usual man about town, working at his apothecary, training, hunting, etc. etc., but with the twist that his sentencing honesty curse is taking hold.

Comments

teatime for sandry

[feintofhart]

[ For all that Claude is feeling strange after his sentencing - and he doesn't know why; while he can be deceptive about this and that, he considers himself to be quite honest in spirit, even if it's not to the letter - he doesn't have the heart to cancel the tea party with Sandry after their long correspondence. Besides, he thinks to himself, he can be honest in his earnest appreciation of her company. While they've only written letters back and forth, she's such a sweet, bright young lady, and besides, it's nice to be able to speak with someone who's able to understand a little more about where he comes from.

It's one thing to be a stranger in a strange land. It's another to have to do it again, and again, and again. To that end, Claude sets to recreating a good old fashioned Fodlan tea party to the best of his ability. By the time Sandry shows up, Claude has commandeered one of the public picnic tables and has set up a proper tower, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he pops the last biscuit on the top. As he sees Sandry approach, he flaps an energetic hand her way. ]

Over here!

[threadmage]

[ Sandry has sewn a new dress for this. It's a tea party and if Claude is putting on his best show, then so can she! She's dressed in a perfectly fitted dusty pink overdress with little pearl buttons down the front of the bodice, a off white undergown with puffy sleeves, and matching dusty pink slippers with little flowers embroidered around the edges. Despite the layers the fabric is light and airy to match the nice weather. It's not cloth that she wove herself, but the sewing is undeniably her own work and she's proud of that.

When she approaches it's with the measured steps of someone who has better manners than to run, and she gives a perfect curtsy when she's close enough. But despite all that she's barely holding back a grin, so it ruins the "polite noble lady" affect, just a little. ]

This looks wonderful.

[feintofhart]

[ Claude grins. He hasn't seen Sandry in person since that whole mess that happened a couple of months ago, and it's somewhat gratifying to know that she looks like the same person -- the same age, the same build, not a victim to what had plagued a few others with their bodies and abilities shifting around them.

She's dressed for the occasion too, which he hadn't quite been expecting. For Claude's part, he looks much the same as well, only a little better kempt; his hair is slicked back with gel, his clothing looser and more modest, something less wild and reckless in his gaze. ]

I can't take credit for it! [ He says, which is thankfully the truth. ] I picked up the sandwiches and sweets at a bakery and cafe down the way. But I assure you, if I were to cook, it would be a very poor showing indeed.

[ He spreads his arms. ]

Welcome to a proper Fodlani teatime! Have a seat and I'll pour you a cup, Miss Sandry.

[ There's something cheeky in his voice, like he sees right through that young noblewoman disguise. He ought to. He hides underneath the very same one. ]

[threadmage]

[ She has to giggle at that, and slides elegantly into her seat. It is good to see him again, even if they only met once. Despite the trying circumstances of their meeting she has only good feelings about it. ]

Oh, I can't judge, I'm not much of a cook myself. I've been trying to learn now that I'm living on my own, but it's slow going. I've retained my knowledge and skills around baking cookies, but I can't survive on cookies alone!

[feintofhart]

Oh, you can certainly try. But I won't lie and tell you I did much of my own cooking at all before I wound up here either. Even now, I tend to buy what I eat.

[ He can just about make do, but it was hard going at first, especially without a proper source of income. He'd been put on kitchen duty now and then at the Academy, but that had gone as swimmingly as one would expect it to, and he had more often than not been shooed out by the better cooks. Dedue in particular always seemed to stare at him with haunted eyes every time he so much as touched a dish, the poor man.

He pours Sandry a cup of tea - a creamy blend of black tea and lavender, light on the palate and sweet against the back of your tongue - along with a dish filled with cream and sugar. Claude's own pot is filled with something different, something that smells rich and herbaceous and pungent, and not at all the sort of thing most young ladies around here enjoy. ]

But besides your cooking ability, or lack thereof... I'd like to know a little more about you now that your noggin's on right. Though I think I've caught on enough to realize that you've done some hobnobbing in noble society yourself.

[threadmage]

[ She takes a dainty sip of her tea, and then a second. It's good! The teacup is placed back down properly, barely a clink as it settles onto the saucer. ]

Yes, I am the great-niece of his grace, Duke Vedris of the realm of Emelan, and cousin of her Imperial Highness, Empress Berenene of the Namorn Empire.

[ So, very noble indeed. Hence the manners and nice handwriting and all that. But she dashes all of the noble impressions by giving a very un-dainty grin. ]

But my parents liked to travel when I was growing up and the other nobles didn't want their children mixing with the daughter of people with such strange ideas, so I made friends with commoners and Traders instead. And then I spent four years living at the Winding Circle Temple before returning to my uncle's castle to help him after a turn of bad health.

[ Another sip of the tea. It really is good. She reaches for a sandwich. ]

The tea is delicious, thank you.

FOR ANGE

[feintofhart]

[ When Ange offers to go exploring the new city with Claude, he has to jump at the opportunity; he's been doing plenty of exploration himself, but it's undoubtedly helpful to get more minds on the case, and besides, Ange is far better equipped for this sort of thing than he is. It's embarrassing that he's struggled to adjust to the new modern sensibilities of this city, but he has. It makes him feel desperately behind, like he needs to sit down for a course in exactly what technological advances have been made and how to use them.

Frustratingly enough, his sentencing continues to bear down on him, something he's hoping that Ange won't catch onto. It's not even that he feels particularly grim today, or that he's displeased to be here. It's just that... he's not happy either. But he almost never is. That's never been an issue before.

In the back of his head, he can hear Hilda's nagging voice: I've only seen you genuinely smile a handful of times, all of these years.

It's rude, is what it is. Who the hell is happy all the time anyway? Why is it such a crime to be pleasant? Every time he tries, he feels his facial muscles battling him, contorting his expression back into a mask of smooth neutrality until he gives up entirely. He can't force joviality in his voice as they look around the entertainment district, noting, ] This place sure got a whole lot less wholesome, huh?

[entreats]

[ Ange could say something about the entertainment district. It's why they're out here in the first place, after all - Ange still feeling the need to explore this place more in case there's some sort of clue anywhere around here that she's been overlooking, and figuring that having a second pair of eyes coming along with her can't hurt. And Claude has enough upsides to him to be the perfect second set of eyes. For one, he comes from a very different world than her own, so he's likely to notice very different things than she does. Not to mention that she trusts him to be intelligent about this sort of thing, and, maybe most importantly of all, she can tolerate Claude pretty well. It's rare for him to ever truly annoy her.

And yet there's something today. Even if Ange doesn't fully know what it is, she can at least tell there's something off about Claude.

She's been keeping it to herself thus far, wondering if maybe she's reading too much into it or he's just in a bad mood, but it's been going on for long enough already that she can't help but turn towards him with her hands on her hips, addressing his oddity rather than anything odd around them. ]

You know, what is up with you today, Claude? Is there something going around town that I don't know of?

[feintofhart]

Huh?

[ He knows that he's not at his best. But he didn't think it was that noticeable. Sure, he's less full of jokes and smiles than usual, but Ange has seen him plenty serious, and this is a serious expedition, isn't it? He grits his teeth. He's been doing that more and more lately; he almost fears he will wear his molars down entirely. His lips curl back into a smile, but it looks forced, pained: ] No, nothing's wr--

[ It's as though a spirit has taken hold of his tongue. He drags his fingers through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan. ]

Sorry. It's this damn sentencing! I don't know what they want from me. [ He shakes his head. ] Don't let it get in the way of what we're here to do. It'll pass. [ A mutter: ] It'd better.

[entreats]

.. you look worse than almost any other time I've seen you, and you expect me to ignore that?

[ She points it out with the same dry tone as ever, but it's a sign of something more. After all, Ange saying that she can't just ignore that implies that it's hard for her to not fuss over it when he seems this off, or like he's dealing with something big.

Not that she's going to word it any more explicitly than that. Instead she just frowns when she looks at him, especially in the light of what he just said. It's not even the first time she's dealing with someone who's in the middle of that stupid sentencing. ]

What did they do to you? [ Ange folds her arms across her chest, her gaze unrelenting. ]

[feintofhart]

They've pissed me off, is what they did.

[ It's true -- but a half-truth, he knows, the sort of half-truth he can still get away with saying. He is angry about it. How could he not be? But there are more complicated emotions lurking under that aggravation, things he doesn't care to look in the eye. He rubs at the back of his neck and looks away, scowling, unwilling to meet Ange's prying eyes.

A little petulantly: ] And I don't think I look that bad.

[ He does, eventually, relent. ] ...they sentenced me to find my true self, whatever that's supposed to mean. And evidently they decided my true self is unbearably cranky, which I don't think is at all true, but there you have it.

[entreats]

[ Well, that does at least give her some answers. When he initially answers, Ange kind of wonders if he's just still going to try and dodge the question, but it seems like the truth comes to light in the end there all the same.

It makes her look a little less judgemental. A little bit less side-eye going on here. After all-- ]

Well, of course you'd be cranky if they forced something on you.

[ That seems so objectively true to her that Ange says it so easily, seemingly not even considering blaming the mood on Claude himself. God knows she'd be bitching at everyone in this place if she was in his shoes right now. ]

It would explain why you look so weird every time it looks like you're going to smile right now. Maybe the 'true self' thing means that you can't smile if you're actually mad.

VASH

[feintofhart]

[ In the wake of this month's -- well, in the wake of everything, Claude has chosen to keep a low profile these days. Just wait for things to blow over, he figures, and everything will be fine. It's to that end that he's dressed down in a simple white cotton shirt, hanging open at the neckline, and sturdy brown trousers, blending in with the crowd as he goes about his shopping. There's always more to buy (sometimes it's a wonder he makes any money at all, he thinks), but today? He's looking for some personal items.

Starting off with a good pen. He's sick of all of those flimsy ballpoint pens they're expected to use these days. He wants a proper pen so that he can better note down his thoughts. With a frown, he stands by the sampler section, doodling lines across the provided notepad and going down across the white plastic table beneath it, his etchings joining those of many, many others with an elaborate, curlicued finish.

Little does he know that he's being watched by someone who is suddenly encumbered with less patience for such petty misdemeanors. It's just a table, after all. Who could possibly care? ]

[baldrshand]

[So far, the month has been quiet, to Ethlyn's great relief. It is, admittedly, only one week in... but she'll take what she can get.

It's a good opportunity to replenish some of the herbal supplies of the clinic, both the medicinal and her stock of tea, which is almost entirely gone. And it'll be good to chat with Claude. His lighthearted positivity is often a balm.]

Claude, hello! I hope today finds you well.

[feintofhart]

[ The past week has been... trying, to say the least. Claude may be a liar, a fact that he's well-acquainted with, but he doesn't see himself as someone who is duplicitous by nature; he will lie when necessary (and it is so often necessary), but he feels he puts his best foot forward the rest of the time. A task to show his true self? Absolute rubbish. He's already his true self.

But as time has worn on, he's found the impacts of the sentencing to be far greater than he could have ever expected. Every time his mouth should be curved into a smile, it's as though his face turns into a terrible mask, a rictus expression marring his face, more of a snarl than a grin. When he tries to deflect, or to make easy conversation, or to be any variety of himself that he comes to know, it's as though the gods themselves have decided he's someone else.

Who is that miserable beast they think he is? It's not him. ]

Morning, Ethlyn.

[ He can't smile. He won't even try, even as he tries to assemble his expression into something pleasant. ]

Well enough. What do you need?

[baldrshand]

[Oh. That's not what she was expecting when she walked in here.

Ethlyn's approach towards the counter becomes somewhat quicker.]

Are you feeling all right, Claude? You don't look quite yourself this morning.

[feintofhart]

Yes, I'm perfectly fine.

[ Not a lie. So he's permitted to say it, he supposes. It's a far cry from wonderful, but it is what it is. Frankly, he's a little torn up about all this, this world's assessment that it's somehow a deception to be pleasant, that what he's always considered his genuine self is deemed to be a farce.

What a bunch of assholes. He can see from the look of concern crossing Ethlyn's face that he's not going to get away with simply batting her away, which he supposes is fair enough; if she greeted him with anything other than a smile, he doubts he'd leave it alone either. He clears his throat, looking over to where something is bubbling over a fire, reducing one of his tinctures down and filling the room with a medicinal smelling steam. ]

There's nothing to worry about, [ he reassures her. ] I've undergone a recent... sentencing, I'm afraid. It'll pass.

[baldrshand]

Hmm. Maybe not perfect. [She leans forward over the counter, inspecting his face. She's so used to seeing a smile there that he just looks... wrong without one.

She realizes that Claude has never told her just what he was accused of. Given how long they've known each other, she has to wonder how that happened. Somehow, she's just never asked and he's never told her.] What are they having to do to atone for your crime? ...What is the crime they've accused you of?

[feintofhart]

Deception, if you'd believe it.

[ This time, Claude finally manages to smile, a little; it's not a particularly fetching expression, something thunderous in the slant of his brow, cold in the glint of his green eyes. ]

You can guess as to why they'd assign me such a thing. [ He had deflected, with everyone else. That he's a politician, that he's pragmatic, that everyone lies every now and then, that it's no more harmful than telling someone you think that colour really does look good on them. With Ethlyn, there's no need to do any such thing. She knows exactly what he was hiding, and why. She knows the degree to which he's betraying the people he claims to fight for, and knows that a good deal of his deception is due to sheer self-preservation. ]

They said I have to do something to show my true self, whatever that's supposed to mean. They refused to elaborate.

sticks leggy out

[traumaticus]

[It's been already few weeks since his arrival to this strange land and Richard's arm is hurting. The damaged skin burned in irritation underneath the tight leather that the young duke had wrapped his body with. It wasn't nothing he couldn't handle, of course. After all, he's had much worse injuries in the battlefield. There's no knight that has not stared the death right in the face. But his arm was getting rather bothersome, and he would rather avoid it getting worse.

And as usual, going to the healer was out of question. He is not going to let anyone examine his body. Leaving him with only limited options. But Richard remembers that the witch had also given him a liquid of some sort, to clean his burned flesh with. While he doesn't know exactly what was in the conduction, he could try to find something similar to it.

This all leads him to pay a visit to the local apothecary. Wearing his cloak and hood over his head, out of pure instinct more than anything. After all, as a lord he is not used to deal with these things himself -- most of time either Buckingham or Catesby would see into them.]

hello hello!!!

[feintofhart]

[ As Richard enters the apothecary, the cheery chime of a bell signals his arrival, which seems to be all the better; the owner of this particular shop seems quite involved, seated at a table by the back and utterly surrounded by all manner of herbs, a mortar and pestle held in his hands as he goes at the mixture he's working on with a fervent ferocity, evidently dedicated to rendering it into a fine powder. ]

Hey, welcome! Give me a second -- I'll be right with you!

[ Richard will have the opportunity to look around as Claude tidies up a little (just covering his work with a light linen sheet, lest anyone decides to pry; if anyone decided to take a sample, they'd find themselves in quite dire digestive straits the next day). All around the shop there's an assortment of potions and tinctures, strange powders and plants bobbing around in amber coloured liquids, herbs hanging from the rafters and little tin containers of tea, something bubbling away on the roaring fire just behind the counter proper.

Claude doesn't want to be here, but he won't lie; this life suits him just fine, and he's been able to undergo all of the tinkering and experimenting his heart desires. Once he's covered up his work, he hops over the counter and greets Richard with a clap of his hands. ]

Now, my good man, what can I help you with?

[ Odd, that the fellow seems to be hiding his identity. Maybe he's here for a boost in libido. Those sorts of customers are always so terribly shy about that sort of thing. ]

[traumaticus]

[Richard only briefly looks at the direction where the voice had came from before turning his attention back on the shelves. He idly picks up a jar or two, quietly inspecting their contents against the light, pressing his brows into a frown. The small texts on the labels really don't tell him much, but then again what else could he expect from a witch's shop.

When Claude appears behind the counter Richard gives him a curious look under his hood, the expression softening a little. The man did not really strike him neither a witch or a doctor.]

..I require something for a burn.

[feintofhart]

A burn, huh? The Clinic's where you really want to go. They can fix up burns in the blink of an eye.

[ But he's not one to shirk business, so he goes rummaging around his shelves anyway, coming up with a couple of bottles that he sets on the counter between them with a loud click. ]

Honey, to prevent it from getting infected. [ Antibacterial, though Claude himself doesn't know that word yet. ] Then this salve to encourage it to heal and to soothe it, with oak bark extract and linseed oil. Make sure you wrap it well too, if it's a bad one. Is this for someone else, or for yourself?

[traumaticus]

[Claude plz. If he wanted a healer he would have gone seen one, rather than go look solution to his issue from potions and tinctures. Keeping his expression still, Richard approaches the counter to look at the little bottles placed in front of him.

He picks up one, weighting it in his hand.]

It is an old injury. [And that's all he has to say about it for now.] How much for the salve?

[feintofhart]

[ This guy is cagey -- but Claude can't well pry, not into something as obviously personal as an injury. It would be bad business, for one, and Claude has something of a reputation to maintain if he wants to be able to continue eavesdropping on everyone's conversations as they waltz in and out. He's heard some awfully juicy things, just by standing here and looking sufficiently distracted. ]

Ah. No need for the honey, then. The salve is quite inexpensive. [ He tells him the price, then digs around on a shelf before producing another bottle. ] The one you're holding is to encourage healing. But if it's an old wound that's bothering you, you might be interested in this instead. It'll help numb the pain a bit.

[ He leans on the counter. ]

I also have some healing magic, as it so happens, but I can see you'd rather keep your burns concealed. Still, if you want a hand, all you need to do is ask. It's not a service I charge for.

[ It's not a service he often offers. But some find coming to him more comforting than going into a formal environment like the Clinic, and he helps when he can, where he can. ]