RD14: Morning

[fairweather]

[A red-haired woman in her early twenties can be seen in the orb. She sits straight-backed and looks quite dignified as she smiles. In the background, one of the very fine rooms of the castle can be seen. When she talks, her voice is very cultured and the refined English accent of an upper-class Londoner.]

Tell me, loves, where can I find a dressmaker? I want something with a little more style and I’m afraid the hideous rags provided simply won’t do. These frills and extra fluff in the skirt, no, no, I want a dressmaker with a sense of style and elegance.

[She sighs. Concerned about her situation? Oh, sure, it's mildly distressing opening a book and waking up in a different dimension, but you learn to roll with the punches.]

And if you do not know where I can find a decent dressmaker, any information about this world will do. Do keep it fun, that dreadful old man was such a bore, droning on about saving the world and defeating thorns. Do I look like a gardener? No, of course not. I don't suppose I can find a decent spa around here, hm? Even natural hot springs will do.

Sophronia, if you're out there, I'm staying at the castle.

Comments

[folklorist]

You can, ah, p-probably find one in the t-town. [ Sorry if he sounds completely out of it and in pain. A broken arm will do that to you and with a distinct lack of paid medication...it's kinda getting to him. He gives a light laugh. ]

I'm not sure about any hot springs e-either. M-Maybe the mountains? W-Well those also have, um d-dragons you might want to watch out for. As for information...it d-depends on wh-what you'd like to know. [ He will try to be cognizant as he answers questions. But really he should be sleeping instead. Hopefully Ginia or Giles doesn't hear him talking to you instead of sleeping. ]

[fairweather]

[Well, well, hello handsome.]

Why don't you tell me more about this world? Dragons, you say?

[folklorist]

[ He is so not handsome, not at all. Besides he's looks like death right now so, nope, no handsome here. ]

It's, um, a bit h-hard to describe. I believe there's a good few places left unchecked and discovered. The th-thorns that man told you about are quite dangerous though. However there's a-a type that surrounds this city at night to keep out the creatures from the Two faced forest.

[ A pause as he winces back some pain so he can shift and speak into the orb more clearly. ] I-I haven't seen any in particular but, then again, I haven't exactly gone and v-visited the mountains quite yet. [ Probably won't be for awhile. ]

[fairweather]

[Nonsense, he is so very handsome even if he looks like death.]

My, my, this sounds like such a dangerous place. What's a woman to do all by her lonesome? Will I be safe within this city?

[consultmybooks]

[...

...

...

Oh. Dear. Lord.]

I, um, I-I'm afraid Aunt Sophronia isn't here, at the, um, at the moment. [If she had been, Giles feels very definite that he would have known.] Um, and, and as for the thorns, they're...well, apparetly they're the s-sorts of thorns that devour human flesh.

[So, a bit more her range of experience.]

...hello, Aunt Lavinia.

[fairweather]

[...

...

...

Goodness.

Lavinia stares, faint hints of composure gone as she looks into the orb at what appears to be her deceased grand-nephew. She knows there are illusions and all sorts of tricks one could use to make one person see another. After being brought to this dimension or world or whatever it was, she wouldn't put it beyond Those in Charge.

When she speaks again, her voice is level, controlled, careful.]

Flesh-eating? Goodness, that sounds dreadful. No one has tried taking a torch to them yet?

[consultmybooks]

I, I-I believe the, the local soldiery has tried it. They have guards, stationed at the perimeter, wherever the perimeter happens to be on any given day. I haven't investigated for myself but, um, reports indicate that the thorns are, um, remarkably resilient.

[Giles has long ago gotten used to the idea that his death was some impossible, unreachable future for everyone else. Something no one had lived yet besides him.

And he'd also long ago resolved to keep it that way. Even from Lavinia, if that's what it took.]

[fairweather]

[It would work except for one small problem; she knows he's dead. She attended his funeral, met with Angel and Faith, oh, she knows quite well. Which is why seeing him so so distressing.]

So it comes down to the merry band brought in from who knows where. How... Hm, quaint.

[Lavinia looks closer at the orb and hums disapprovingly.]

You should remove that illusion or disguise or whatever it is. It's quite unseemly and disrespectful, though I don't suppose you care about respecting the dead looking like that. And if this is a trick of the world, well, I don't find any humor in it.

[shorterinperson]

The thorns are why you were brought here. Presumably if we can solve that little problem, we can all return home.

[fairweather]

Then all of you should get on this little problem, hmm?

[shorterinperson]

[ Oh, it's one of those. ]

Rest assured, miss, we're doing our best. Although a little help wouldn't go awry.

[fairweather]

[Yes. She's one of those.]

Of course, I'm course. I'm sure there are all sorts of lovely folks willing to help out. I would only get in the way.

[orb]

[goldeneyeball]

Hey, if you wind up findin' a dress maker, could you ask 'em if they make robes too?

[orb]

[fairweather]

I suppose I can. Are there no tailors around?

[orb]

[goldeneyeball]

Beats me, but if you're already in the market...

[orb]

[fairweather]

[Lavinia huffs slightly. The nerve!]

In the market for a dressmaker, not a tailor. [She looks critically over his appearance.] Though I do believe there are things far more fashionable than robes. Shapeless things.

[halfwitch]

You show up here and your first thought is about clothes?

[fairweather]

Certainly. One must always dress their best.

[halfwitch]

Why?

[tenuefarfalla]

You won't find it. What you're wearing is what's in fashion here. The dressmakers are fashionable in this world. If you want someone to make you something unfashionable, you're going to have to design it yourself.

[fairweather]

I suppose if that's how it must be, that's how it must be. Perhaps they could do with a change in fashion.

[tenuefarfalla]

Good luck with that.

And if you find anyone with actual skill who's willing to put their name on something you design, let me know. The only people I've found willing to make something they know will be laughed at aren't all that skilled to begin with.

[Like several others, she's wondering what use a Hero who cares more about clothes than the people who need their help will be, but she also knows that calling her on it will probably do no good. She's had enough silly and shallow friends to know that it takes more effort to convince them to care about something important than to just do it yourself.]

[brosif]

You're truly more concerned memorizing tailors than learning of that which threatens us all?

[The books show themselves to care less and less for the merit of heroes every day.]

[fairweather]

Yes, I am. I can hardly move in this chiffon monstrosity.

[brosif]

[Sif peers at the woman's dress. And, well. She does not speak falsely.]

I know of some tailors that prize function over...fluffing.