[But, see, she answers either which isn't so helpful; but it just means getting one of each and letting her take first pick. He's getting used to the bartering economy here, and art itself only goes so far - he's going to have to get invested in a job sooner than later. Can't live in the boarding house forever, right? (Ha ha).]
An upward blowing sail? Now I'm intrigued. I better not blow away like a leaf.
Maybe we could split both half and half and be twins, you never know.
[He's already on his way, but a moment of studious consideration of pastry choices may have bled through into his projected thoughts. He leans berry over citrus, but he will indeed share. But back to the lightning:]
We're sending up a mannequin first try. Just in case.
Just one mannequin? I'm so grateful you trust me to get it right after one.
[ Zoya knows she's the best. She knows she's capable of almost anything she puts her mind to. But Wesley isn't asking her to go to battle and win it. He's asking her to hold him up so he can sketch a picture as a favour to the Duchess. While it has its own political angle, it's not a war. Zoya only knows how she works best when she's in the middle of a fight.
She'll definitely be sending up more than one mannequin. Surely Genya has a few ugly ones to spare? ]
[Said in a mockingly chastising way, but - he's back at the boarding house and heading up to their cozy little room. He's got two pastries wrapped in newsprint, and a bottle of something sweet - maybe a little too sweet to pair together, but when someone tries to upsell him it's hard for him to say no.]
[ Granted, Zoya had gotten distracted—not that she'll ever admit it. Wesley's untrustworthy with such information, bound to wield it against her in the near future in the most obnoxious way possible. ]
Give me a few minutes. Not all of us have obnoxiously long, efficient legs like you.
[ But she will arrive a handful of minutes later, skin a little flushed from being near a fire (and perhaps from walking faster), covered a little in soot, and her hair a frazzled mess. Unlike Wesley, she comes bearing nothing, but she likes to think the soft, warm breeze that follows her makes up for her lack of bringing anything to the table.
Anything physical. She's been thinking about his request since he mentioned it, and has started to piece it altogether in her mind. Fabric. Mannequins. All of it points to the Tailor—or tailor, if one isn't speaking of Genya Safin. ]
[He answers her question with a question, sitting cross legged at the foot of his bed with his belongings scattered across it and the cork from the bottle between two fingers. He takes a sip, savors it and swallows before lifting the bottle to offer it her way.]
So I know what fabrics to ask for at the tailor for your sails.
[ If they're sending him up in his own little makeshift not-airship, he should be using his colours, no? You can take Zoya away from the war, but she'll always be thinking about how to best declare yourself for battle.
Closing the door behind her, she gratefully takes the bottle and stands off to his side. She narrows her eyes slightly, peering down at him from over the lip. ]
Although, you should never wear yellow. It won't compliment you at all.
[He looks surprised to hear her say that, momentarily widening his eyes before a smile overtakes his expression - then he's quite incredulous, but still playful:]
Really? Not even butter yellow, with my complexion?
[ Zoya has a thing about blue. It's her colour, and a colour that's served her well over the years. The fact that she has a roommate with blue eyes only feel like fate.
With amusement: ]
Why would you want to wear yellow when a nice blue or white would make your eyes stand out? You should be taking advantage of one of your best assets, not hiding it.
I was woefully unaware that yellow neutralizes blue. I've learned something.
[He smiles crookedly, but he'll probably heed her word. He's never put that much thought into making his own eyes pop - he's been dressed before, but never questioned why. Why he looked better to someone else in a certain outfit. Why he should wear it over others. 'A nice blue or white would make your eyes stand out is going to stay glued to his skull now. Neat.]
And I think you just called me handsome? I like that.
[ But she won't deny that he looks good. He's attractive, but he'll have to work a little harder for that word to pass her lips.
She turns on her heel and walks over to the window, opening it slightly to welcome the breeze in—and for something to do. Saints forbid he looks at her face and insists that she's lying. ]
Not many people can wear yellow. The fact that you thought you could just proves how delusional you really are. [ She peers over her shoulder at him and smiles. ] It's a good thing I'm here to not let you commit such a horrible fashion faux pas. Your reputation would never recover.
[He says, having stayed where he is while she walked toward the window. He's got a smile on his face, crooked and wide, and he has yet to decide if he should torture her with something yellow in due time. He puts his hands on his hips and laughs lightly, wondering if he has any reputation at all. People have to know you, or of you, for that - don't they?]
I need more of your wisdom in my life. Just pour it on me at any time.
I'll pour a bucket of cold water on you. We'll see how you like that.
[ She mutters it intentionally loud for him to hear before turning away from the window. The breeze is nice enough—not too cold or vicious to sweep in and disrupt anything in the room.
Considering she's still holding that bottle, she gestures it toward him. The expression on her face is one of interest, and also a little bit of pride. ]
Did you enjoy your time at the castle, then? You've left quite the impression if you have a task from the Duchess's apparent right-hand person.
Do it when I've slept in, two birds with one stone.
[Murmured equally soft, before he flops to lay back - before pushing himself up on an elbow once the bottle's offered, to reach for it and take a sip.]
It was enlightening. I don't know that I really left an impression so far as the Duchess may be concerned, but it was - interesting to see Dragana's interest in something. Seeing a view they haven't been able to in a while, or can't? Do you think it's because they can't leave the castle?
[ Because he's suggested it, she's most certainly not going to do it when he's sleeping in.
Zoya furrows her brows at his question, genuinely intrigued by it. She's been looking at it all through the lens of a soldier, but the way he sees it is so simple. It makes sense. It takes her a few moments before she sits on the edge of his bed and another one before she's lying on her back and peering up at the bland ceiling. ]
Maybe that's so.
[ It sounds silly, though. But why hadn't the Duchess or Dragana come to the town themselves? Why send a messenger? Is that why it took two months to notice the void-touched? ]
It'd explain the nostalgia behind your task. I'm used to rulers walking among their people, and going wherever they want, mostly whenever they want. [ She could never see Nikolai staying snug in the Grand Palace, even by choice. ]
Perhaps she's afraid. Recruiting strangers to find something so important to you in a thing no one knows anything about is… [ She sucks on her teeth before sighing loudly. ]
It could be a binding of duty, unable to leave the castle because it'd leave it defenseless - in a way.
[Maybe there's no actual physical limitation, but Dragana just can't leave of their own volition. Maybe the Duchess would know if her servants wandered askew, would see something of the gap in the armor that might leave. Or maybe there are reasons they can't leave themselves - it's a question that'll have to sit in their minds, because answers might not come quick.]
When I return the drawing, maybe I can ask. If I can find a way to ask it that's not so obvious.
[ Zoya takes a moment to think. He has a point. When she'd been in the castle, it had no signs of an active military. It was defenceless, like it existed in some story where no conflict existed at all. ]
You could always offer to take them to the spot. It's an innocent enough suggestion without being overly suspicious.
[ It's a delicate approach that doesn't suit Zoya at all. ]
[He'll have to consider his options closer to the date - when he figures out how to return the drawing itself. In person or by messenger, there'll have to be a way to include a message. But that's for Later Wesley to ponder. He sets the bottle aside, and then regards Zoya - tempted to lay aside her, yet holding off.]
Got time to think about it. I don't think I can go wrong, considering it's a favor.
[Little does he know that repayment's going to be better than he could imagine.]
[ Zoya doesn't answer immediately, taking his question seriously. From what she gathered at the party, the Duchess seemed amicable (except when disrespected, which was fair enough in her books). She seemed to treat her staff with kindness. ]
I think the Duchess has great respect for Dragana, and would've disapproved of her being approached or speaking to anyone if she didn't think requests like this would be asked.
[ She ensures to say with the utmost confidence: ] I doubt you'll get into trouble.
[He's reminded of it now - the toast at the tail end of dinner, when everything felt balanced on an edge and she asked them all to do her a favor. He'd tentatively agreed (with no good excuse not to at hand,) and now he wonders about it again. He'd much rather fulfill Dragana's request. Maybe he can find a way to make that his excuse should timelines overlap.]
[ Granted, Zoya doesn't like much. But what is the void? Why hadn't she been able to find a book on it? Hadn't a handful of people died?
Despite her history of following orders without question, Zoya learned the value of questioning them over the last few years. She's unsure if all the void-touched need to go to the void to assist. ]
I don't know what it is, and I don't make it a point of going into something blind if I can help it. A venture like this would typically leave the town vulnerable to attack.
[ But there are no signs of war. No one seems bothered by this. War is all Zoya knows. She deflates somewhat, even though she still keeps her chin jutted stubbornly to give off the air that she at least knows something. ]
[Maybe if Wesley had something to offer in defense, his excuse of staying behind would stick. Alas, he's still stitched into the middle of this. He is a little curious about what's beyond the veil, but also... doesn't want to die? It feels like death is imminent in a voyage of this caliber. He's going to be conflicted up until the point people start taking off.]
Farther than that, what do you think about returning to the Duchess what she wants?
[It's one thing to do her a favor and go out there... but is it wise to give her back her all-sight and trust it's in everyone's best interests?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[But, see, she answers either which isn't so helpful; but it just means getting one of each and letting her take first pick. He's getting used to the bartering economy here, and art itself only goes so far - he's going to have to get invested in a job sooner than later. Can't live in the boarding house forever, right? (Ha ha).]
An upward blowing sail? Now I'm intrigued. I better not blow away like a leaf.
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[ Because lightning's known for its softness.
She thinks she has an idea, but Zoya needs a little more time with it. She's not an inventor, but she likes to think she can improvise sometimes. ]
And berry. See? Long moment wasn't so long, was it? But does that mean you're going to have citrus just so you're not matching me?
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[He's already on his way, but a moment of studious consideration of pastry choices may have bled through into his projected thoughts. He leans berry over citrus, but he will indeed share. But back to the lightning:]
We're sending up a mannequin first try. Just in case.
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She laughs loudly. ]
Just one mannequin? I'm so grateful you trust me to get it right after one.
[ Zoya knows she's the best. She knows she's capable of almost anything she puts her mind to. But Wesley isn't asking her to go to battle and win it. He's asking her to hold him up so he can sketch a picture as a favour to the Duchess. While it has its own political angle, it's not a war. Zoya only knows how she works best when she's in the middle of a fight.
She'll definitely be sending up more than one mannequin. Surely Genya has a few ugly ones to spare? ]
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[Said in a mockingly chastising way, but - he's back at the boarding house and heading up to their cozy little room. He's got two pastries wrapped in newsprint, and a bottle of something sweet - maybe a little too sweet to pair together, but when someone tries to upsell him it's hard for him to say no.]
You back yet? I am.
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[ Granted, Zoya had gotten distracted—not that she'll ever admit it. Wesley's untrustworthy with such information, bound to wield it against her in the near future in the most obnoxious way possible. ]
Give me a few minutes. Not all of us have obnoxiously long, efficient legs like you.
[ But she will arrive a handful of minutes later, skin a little flushed from being near a fire (and perhaps from walking faster), covered a little in soot, and her hair a frazzled mess. Unlike Wesley, she comes bearing nothing, but she likes to think the soft, warm breeze that follows her makes up for her lack of bringing anything to the table.
Anything physical. She's been thinking about his request since he mentioned it, and has started to piece it altogether in her mind. Fabric. Mannequins. All of it points to the Tailor—or tailor, if one isn't speaking of Genya Safin. ]
What's your favourite colour?
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[He answers her question with a question, sitting cross legged at the foot of his bed with his belongings scattered across it and the cork from the bottle between two fingers. He takes a sip, savors it and swallows before lifting the bottle to offer it her way.]
Or green. Sometimes blue. Why?
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[ If they're sending him up in his own little makeshift not-airship, he should be using his colours, no? You can take Zoya away from the war, but she'll always be thinking about how to best declare yourself for battle.
Closing the door behind her, she gratefully takes the bottle and stands off to his side. She narrows her eyes slightly, peering down at him from over the lip. ]
Although, you should never wear yellow. It won't compliment you at all.
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Really? Not even butter yellow, with my complexion?
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Not with those eyes.
[ Zoya has a thing about blue. It's her colour, and a colour that's served her well over the years. The fact that she has a roommate with blue eyes only feel like fate.
With amusement: ]
Why would you want to wear yellow when a nice blue or white would make your eyes stand out? You should be taking advantage of one of your best assets, not hiding it.
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[He smiles crookedly, but he'll probably heed her word. He's never put that much thought into making his own eyes pop - he's been dressed before, but never questioned why. Why he looked better to someone else in a certain outfit. Why he should wear it over others. 'A nice blue or white would make your eyes stand out is going to stay glued to his skull now. Neat.]
And I think you just called me handsome? I like that.
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If I were to call you handsome, I'd use the word.
[ But she won't deny that he looks good. He's attractive, but he'll have to work a little harder for that word to pass her lips.
She turns on her heel and walks over to the window, opening it slightly to welcome the breeze in—and for something to do. Saints forbid he looks at her face and insists that she's lying. ]
Not many people can wear yellow. The fact that you thought you could just proves how delusional you really are. [ She peers over her shoulder at him and smiles. ] It's a good thing I'm here to not let you commit such a horrible fashion faux pas. Your reputation would never recover.
[ See? Zoya really is a Saint. ]
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[He says, having stayed where he is while she walked toward the window. He's got a smile on his face, crooked and wide, and he has yet to decide if he should torture her with something yellow in due time. He puts his hands on his hips and laughs lightly, wondering if he has any reputation at all. People have to know you, or of you, for that - don't they?]
I need more of your wisdom in my life. Just pour it on me at any time.
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[ She mutters it intentionally loud for him to hear before turning away from the window. The breeze is nice enough—not too cold or vicious to sweep in and disrupt anything in the room.
Considering she's still holding that bottle, she gestures it toward him. The expression on her face is one of interest, and also a little bit of pride. ]
Did you enjoy your time at the castle, then? You've left quite the impression if you have a task from the Duchess's apparent right-hand person.
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[Murmured equally soft, before he flops to lay back - before pushing himself up on an elbow once the bottle's offered, to reach for it and take a sip.]
It was enlightening. I don't know that I really left an impression so far as the Duchess may be concerned, but it was - interesting to see Dragana's interest in something. Seeing a view they haven't been able to in a while, or can't? Do you think it's because they can't leave the castle?
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Zoya furrows her brows at his question, genuinely intrigued by it. She's been looking at it all through the lens of a soldier, but the way he sees it is so simple. It makes sense. It takes her a few moments before she sits on the edge of his bed and another one before she's lying on her back and peering up at the bland ceiling. ]
Maybe that's so.
[ It sounds silly, though. But why hadn't the Duchess or Dragana come to the town themselves? Why send a messenger? Is that why it took two months to notice the void-touched? ]
It'd explain the nostalgia behind your task. I'm used to rulers walking among their people, and going wherever they want, mostly whenever they want. [ She could never see Nikolai staying snug in the Grand Palace, even by choice. ]
Perhaps she's afraid. Recruiting strangers to find something so important to you in a thing no one knows anything about is… [ She sucks on her teeth before sighing loudly. ]
I don't know what to make of any of this.
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[Maybe there's no actual physical limitation, but Dragana just can't leave of their own volition. Maybe the Duchess would know if her servants wandered askew, would see something of the gap in the armor that might leave. Or maybe there are reasons they can't leave themselves - it's a question that'll have to sit in their minds, because answers might not come quick.]
When I return the drawing, maybe I can ask. If I can find a way to ask it that's not so obvious.
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[ Zoya takes a moment to think. He has a point. When she'd been in the castle, it had no signs of an active military. It was defenceless, like it existed in some story where no conflict existed at all. ]
You could always offer to take them to the spot. It's an innocent enough suggestion without being overly suspicious.
[ It's a delicate approach that doesn't suit Zoya at all. ]
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[He'll have to consider his options closer to the date - when he figures out how to return the drawing itself. In person or by messenger, there'll have to be a way to include a message. But that's for Later Wesley to ponder. He sets the bottle aside, and then regards Zoya - tempted to lay aside her, yet holding off.]
Got time to think about it. I don't think I can go wrong, considering it's a favor.
[Little does he know that repayment's going to be better than he could imagine.]
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[ She says that to the ceiling. Does she mean to be a Debbie Downer? No. But Zoya likes to deal with fact, not fiction.
She threads her fingers together and rests them against her belly. She turns her head toward him. ]
Did Dragana tell you when the Duchess expected this favour to be fulfilled?
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[He probably should've clarified. It changes a few things? Like, for instance, his quiet musing of:]
You don't think the Duchess would disapprove of it, do you?
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I think the Duchess has great respect for Dragana, and would've disapproved of her being approached or speaking to anyone if she didn't think requests like this would be asked.
[ She ensures to say with the utmost confidence: ] I doubt you'll get into trouble.
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[He's reminded of it now - the toast at the tail end of dinner, when everything felt balanced on an edge and she asked them all to do her a favor. He'd tentatively agreed (with no good excuse not to at hand,) and now he wonders about it again. He'd much rather fulfill Dragana's request. Maybe he can find a way to make that his excuse should timelines overlap.]
The - The venturing into the void.
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[ Granted, Zoya doesn't like much. But what is the void? Why hadn't she been able to find a book on it? Hadn't a handful of people died?
Despite her history of following orders without question, Zoya learned the value of questioning them over the last few years. She's unsure if all the void-touched need to go to the void to assist. ]
I don't know what it is, and I don't make it a point of going into something blind if I can help it. A venture like this would typically leave the town vulnerable to attack.
[ But there are no signs of war. No one seems bothered by this. War is all Zoya knows. She deflates somewhat, even though she still keeps her chin jutted stubbornly to give off the air that she at least knows something. ]
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Farther than that, what do you think about returning to the Duchess what she wants?
[It's one thing to do her a favor and go out there... but is it wise to give her back her all-sight and trust it's in everyone's best interests?]
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