middaeg | She works hard for the money [Open]

Entry tags:

She works hard for the money [Open]

Who: Caren and you!
When: Throughout the month
Where: Knit's Wit, Daisy Chain, throughout the city streets, various brothels
What: Quest time good time
Warnings:

I: Knit Wit

[Thanks to Justine, she's been able to find work, and a new set of clothing, at the Knit Wit. Which means that Caren can be found in the shop fairly often, quick and nimble with her fingers as she works on whatever project it may be-whether it is doing up a hem or adding embroideries to sleeves or other bits of clothing. It could be easy to hover and watch her for awhile.

Or she could take notice of someone crossing the doorway, and have to stop her work, and ensure her needle was stuck in the fabric so it wouldn't unravel.]

May I help you?

[Let's hope her customer service isn't terrible.]

II: Gardening with Class

A: Flowers and the City

So if this also has a magical property...

[She's excited, and leaning forward as she types down notes. For those who have seen her before, in any location...Caren is far more animated. She's absorbing everything, or as much as she can, even as she writes it all down in her Watch.

But she also has to wonder...]

Does this mean we could make a profit off of our plants? Sell the surplus to witches?

[If that means she can sell excess basil when she's sick of it...that's not a terrible idea.]

B: Arrangements and you

[She'd rather that the plants stayed in the dirt, but well-that was the price of doing flower arrangements that were pleasing to the eye. But...there were a few things that caught her eye. While some had given certain flowers, there were her favorites in anothers hands. So she had to go around, with other flowers in her hands.]

Excuse me. Do you mind if I exchanged my flowers for your hydrangeas?

[She looks actually girlish and hopeful for once.]

III: Festival Preparations

A: Harbor Cleaning

[It was good to do some cleaning. True, she was doing that in her new home quite a bit-there was who knew how much dust there-but she enjoyed making the Harbor presentable as well. Cleaning was something she knew how to do, and do well.

Though she never helped with a city wide clean up before. But the latest project-that she had to get to one of the windows and clean it off-was somewhat difficult.

It was a little out of reach.

She went up onto her toes. No dice. She tried to hop up and get it in bits, but it didn't help either. Seeing someone come by, she called out:]

A little help?

B: Blooming Pastries

[She wasn't always assigned to the harbor. Most of the time, she showed up on a day she wasn't working at the Knit Wit, since she needed to save up. After hearing what had happened to Connor-and how he just suddenly had a tail-she wanted to be certain that she had ever had that happen, or that Somnus had it happen to him-that there would be a nest egg ready.

Having 2000 cunes a day weren't anything to sneeze at. So she was working whenever possible.

Maybe it wasn't surprising that in the midst of making Apple Rose tarts, that her knees buckle. She might knock against you against as she starts falling to her knees.]

Sorry...

IV: Gardens with Class

A: Language of Flowers

[So they're supposed to...learn how to flirt and ply other people with drink was it? Well, this should go well. She could do this. And it was time for an exercise! They were paired off randomly, just so they could see if they could do it without the tips that were offered, more or less.

Shouldn't take more then a minute or two they said. She could do this. Easily!

Caren took in a deep breath, and leaned over, so she was pressed arm against arm with her companion. This might look intense, or it might just look slightly ridiculous, depending on the height difference.]

Good evening. Have you been enjoying your time here? I have, no that you're here.

[And she smiles. She's doing great, right?]

B: Flowering in the City

[All right. She doesn't understand this class at all. She huffs a little, and folds her arms under her chest, before murmuring to one of her class mates.]

Isn't it just a matter of flashing a little skin and making some false promises to charm someone into giving you money? That's how I thought it worked.

[Caren why are you saying such horrible things so casually.]

C: A perfect Arrangement

[Caren sighed. She didn't have anyone to bring with her, not really. She didn't know who she would ask to come with to this class. So it was a random pair up for the dancing, and she was standing there, shy and uncertain.]

I've never...danced before. So I don't mind if you take the lead.

[She paused, and continued:]

I'll try not to step on your feet.

Wildcard:

This can be for exploring the city, settling in Haven, all sorts of shenanigans! Or for making something completely different. If you have questions, you can contact me on plurk at

nammah

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He watches with something between interest and apprehension as she brings back her selections. Of all of them, the white shirt seems to be what he gravitates toward the most; everything else seems at least acceptable to him. The colors aren't offensive, they seem like they're incredibly soft and luxe, certainly understated, all of which he asked for.

He'd probably take them and go, gladly, without any alterations or further suggestions or additions... but her choice of words gives him pause. He cants his head, shaggy hair drooping toward his left side.]

I don't say things carelessly.

[And he says it with such earnest gravity that it's probably true.]

But even if I did... you haven't done anything against the rules, have you? If anything, you're going above and beyond to help a customer.

[She made a soft sound. He went for the white, did he? There were a few other styles that would work for that.

Without a word, she made to take back the other shirts, motioning for him to pick one of the pants. She'd come back with a white pair, but it'd take her a second.]

I'm sure you don't.

[She doesn't believe him. It's not meant to insult him but-people have let her down more then once. She speaks to him while glancing over her shoulder.]

And while you're correct...people assume the worse with retail. I'll come back with more white shirts.

[Whether or not it's very practical, in a world where one gets their hands dirty and bleeds on the regular, white draws L. What it represents to him is unclear; it could be its purity, the state of being wholly pristine, its simplicity, how clear it is when there is even a single blemish.]

How can you be sure?

[The question is curious, rather than accusatory or meant to make her doubt his trustworthiness. He genuinely is interested in knowing how he comes across to someone he's not speaking with through a liaison, because consistently being a part of a society is still something he is very new to.

There's also the notion, the little intuitive sense he has nibbling at the back of his brain stem, that she might be lying.]

I wouldn't assume the worst unless I had a good reason to. I don't, that I know of...

[But now he is looking for one. He watches her carefully as she leaves to get more white shirts, wondering if she really hates her job.]

[He might end up having to bleach his clothing. Thankfully that isn't difficult to find, even in this strange world.

The question had her glance back at him, curious. At first she thought he might be teasing her. But no, he is serious. She sighed, shaking her head, even as she made a quick selection of summer shirts.]

Some might think you kind for that. Or generous. There are some people who are always looking for flaws, or take it as a challenge. If there was one small problem, what other ones could there be? What problems could be made and embellished?

[She comes back with her selection of white shirts and pants, placing them on a nearby counter.]

Don't take my word for it. It's better to distrust, before you verify the facts.

[Is she over extending the truth? She might be. Is she a pessimist? Most assuredly.]

[Teasing isn't really something that L does, as it happens. The more one interacts with him, the clearer it probably becomes that he might just not have it in him, certainly not in any organic or good-natured way.]

Maybe I actually am a kind and generous person.

[He's pondering it, rather than claiming it. After some thought, he will reach the private conclusion that the absence of cruelty is not the same as being kind.]

It's not that I don't appreciate a challenge, or the practice of establishing trust before giving it freely. It's just that... I suppose I don't see a point creating difficulty where it doesn't need to exist. There's enough of it without that kind of prodding and manipulation, isn't there?

[There's a hollow exhaustion in his voice, and truly, ever since he walked through the door of Knit Wit, there's been a put-upon air about him. It's highly believable that he's well-acquainted with difficulty, especially lately, and it's probably not a stretch to believe that he has no interest in creating unnecessary problems for himself at this point.]

I don't need to trust you with my life to believe that you can probably give me reliable advice about something that's been making my life harder. I also don't need to make your life harder for helping me; I don't see how it benefits either of us, so... I hope that puts you a little more at ease.

[If it wasn't for her barbed teasing, she wouldn't at all. But-well that's neither here nor there.

She starts holding up shirts. One by one, checking to see what would suit him the best. She's still listening but-she's also trying to figure out what works best. But-the shorter shirts don't seem to work, tunics aren't that great either.

It'll have to be the plain linen shirt, long sleeved and breathable. And she'll look for some slight variations so it's not just the same three shirts.]

It's...easier to know that there's a certain level of trust between us. Perhaps I was being far too difficult and putting you through too much emotional difficulty. For that then-I will apologize for the nonsense I've just put you through, and any emotional exhaustion that may have occurred.

I think we've found a shirt for you though.

[She motioned to the shirt she selected, gathering the other ones.]

I'll see about finding others of similar style and coloring-it won't take long.

[L is quiet and patient, the way most children are when they're waiting for a caretaker to select an outfit for an event of which they have little experience or comprehension. He's not a child, of course; even if his age is difficult to pin, he can't be younger than college age, and that is skewing low. Nevertheless, there's something absurdly stunted about him, suggesting that in this particular arena that most adults consider routine and mundane, he has no choice but to trust someone else.

It helps, a great deal, that she seems to be choosing very simple, relaxed lines. None of them make him want to squirm out of his skin imagining what the material must feel like against it.]

I don't consider this an emotionally taxing experience. Please don't worry.

[Does she? L chews on the pad of his thumb as he considers it. ]

Would it be alright for me to ask what you did before? Before the mirrors, I mean... I don't think I'm incorrect to assume that you're not a native here. Like me.

[It's a new experience for her to be certain. Working with people to up sell things-that was different. But then again, for all of her fussing and fretting, L was easy to take care of. It was more of a matter of narrowing things down.

She'd just have to find pants and shorts that'd work. Likely not white, especially if he was to leave the city limits. Beige? Jeans? Either might work, she thought, as she set things back.]

It's fine if you ask. I'm not offended.

[As she carefully put the discards away, she kept speaking.]

I was a priestess of the Holy Church, of the Exorcist division specifically. My specialty was daemon and demon detection.

[If he catches a glimpse of anything resembling denim, especially of the loose variety, he will make no secret of his preference for it. He wants to wear what he did before, what his uniform has been essentially since he actually was a small child, and not just a rangy, peculiar man who has long since grown out of the adorable precociousness people fawn over in a young prodigy.

He laughs at what she says; it is strange and inappropriate, and probably a little jarring. He catches himself, ducking his head, seeming almost apologetic at the reaction.]

So... it was your job to catch things that were evil.

[He still seems amused as he reflects on it, but it isn't because he's ridiculing her, at least that's not the intent. It's because that was his job, too, dressed in slightly different trappings. And he misses his job, and actually has difficulty keeping sight of who he is without it.]

[Thankfully, they have a few blue jeans in stock; it was more of a matter of making sure they were the right length and fit for his legs. If it wasn't completely customized, Caren would at least ensure they could fit well.

The laughter caught her off guard, startling her enough to turn back towards him, blinking. She wasn't sure what was so funny but she rolled with it.]

Ah-yes. Evil couldn't hide from me, wherever it was.

[Whether she wanted it to or not.]

[He's sort of tall, and really thin. Most jeans slide right on down his ass, which is one reason longer shirts are sort of a necessity. Not that he has ever thought about it to the degree where he could articulate the paltry nuances of his own fashion sense.

It isn't so much that he's amused, even though his odd reaction seems to indicate as much, but what's clear is that it's made him more interested. Suddenly this isn't merely a transactional exchange, he wants to know more, wants to see if their experiences align in other ways.]

This job isn't anything like what you're describing. Do you miss it? It sounds like you were good at it.

Edited 2019-06-25 05:50 (UTC)

[Maybe she should get him a belt just in case. But she might not think of it either. Whoops.

He did seem more animated, even as she grabbed a few selections of jeans.]

Oh, I was. Sometimes it would take longer but-I'd find them. Dealing with them was sometimes another matter.

[But that was usually why she had a partner-to make up for what she couldn't do. Did she miss it? That...was a good question. She considered it before putting down her findings.]

I miss doing good in the world. And I miss knowing the place where I fit.

It was far more clear cut there, in what I had to do, even in complicated situations.

Of course... yes, it would be. It's always different in theory than it is in practice. And detecting and apprehending are very different skillsets.

[He's alive and engaged like he hasn't been before this point, for sure, and it only has a little bit to do with the fact that jeans are apparently worn here and he can get some.]

I could tell you that you're still doing good in the world. And it would be true, because you're helping me, but... that being said, I hope circumstances allow you to move on from this post quickly. There has to be somewhere you actually fit in Geardagas.

[He's talking about himself, too. Maybe just as much, maybe more so. But it's rare for him to actually be able to empathize with someone's situation, and he's felt like his new identity in Geardagas is a stifling millstone rather than an opportunity for rest and freedom from his legacy. In the end, he was never ready to retreat into some kind of cosmic, magical witness protection program.]

I want to remember your name. What is it?

Very true-which was why having a partner helped immensely.

[He's far more lively now-this is truly something close to his heart. Funny how the unlikest of things made people happy and excited.

Though she wasn't sure if it was the same amount of good.]

Maybe there will be some way. I want to find my place in this world-and I hope you'll find it too. There has to be a place for us.

[Retail was one thing. But saving lives? Being in the fray? It was surprising how much she missed it.]

Caren. Caren Ortensia. And yours?

[She wanted to know the name of someone who knew something of detection, even if it was different in manifestation.]

[Maybe he should be more careful; maybe he's been here long enough to relax his guard a bit and start to accept that just because he is showing his face, revealing fragments of a life that was his and therefore dangerous, he is not going to immediately collapse of a heart attack.]

It's Linden Tailor.

[Not his name, ultimately... but it's the one he's been using here, and day by day, it is starting to feel a little more like it really is his. For the foreseeable future, anyway, as he continues to live and learn as a witch.]

Your partner didn't make the trip with you, I take it... mine certainly didn't.

[In fact... in those last confusing and chaotic moments before everything shut off and the reserve energy kicked in, L can only assume that his partner is dead. He's avoided dwelling, but it's still disquieting in the moments his mind strays back to what he believes were both their final minute alive.]

A Linden Tailor in Knit Wit...

[It's funny. Her mouth twitches, and she looks away to wipe away a smile. She shouldn't make fun, but it just seems so fitting. It doesn't sound like a pun at least.]

Pleasure. But-no. They didn't. Really, it's best that the person that was with me at the time doesn't arrive at all.

That would make things...problematic.

[It takes L a moment to realize why she's reacted the way she has, and then it clicks. He tugs at a fistful of hair near the nape of his neck, his own mouth twisting upward a bit as he appreciates the connection that's unintentional but nevertheless there, and the irony adds another layer to the whole thing. If he actually knew his way around a needle and thread, he wouldn't have shuffled in here looking like a swarm of moths had attacked him.

He likes this mood. It's lighter and more playful than most of the ones that demand and grip his notice, and if he is going to be Linden Tailor, maybe that person wouldn't mind lingering for a little while, building onto the pun since it amused Caren. It could get very elaborate, and probably kind of annoying. But if it's her sense of humor, it could leave her in "stitches", right?

No, the moment has passed, as tends to happen when one otherthinks humor.The infant smile fades, and L's expression returns to something more trained and somber.]

Problematic? How so? Were the two of you in conflict at the time?

[Partners clashed; of course it happened, when two people worked so closely on very important assignments. Sometimes it wasn't serious, but...]

Or are you just glad this isn't happening to someone you care about?

[It's a funny thing, an accidental one. Maybe if she had more of a sense of humor, she could have kept it up, gently teasing him about a Tailor that didn't sew-or maybe even enjoy the puns that he'd offer up.

But the idea of that person being here was...not a good one. She wrinkled her nose, even as she fussed over the pants selection. It wasn't really helpful; it was more something to do with her hands.]

I am glad that others aren't facing this situation-they wouldn't deal with as well as I. However-the person I was with at the time wasn't my partner.

If he was here, he couldn't resolve the problem he created with his partner. And while people seem to come here nearly the same...

It wouldn't have been good for anyone.

[L can't help but notice that she's not handling those garments in any particularly productive way. She's not fetching further pairs, or checking for sizes; L can't help but watch, realizing, gradually, that she has no objective aside from the fidget.]

Being capable of enduring a bad situation doesn't make one deserving of it. I don't know that accepting the consequences of something like this could be considered noble, for that reason.

What was it they needed to resolve, and how catastrophic would it have been if he'd arrived with you?

[L wonders the same about his own situation... but if he was going to die, maybe it's actually as ideal as it could possibly be. He might not be able to do anything about the villain of his swan song from Geardagas, but he couldn't do anything about it dead, either.]

It's not intended to be noble. It's more...being able to accept that the answers to go back, if possible, are not easily found.

[Which can't be easy for people who have-or had-power and were used to things going a certain way.]

Adaptable perhaps? Flexible? As for what he was supposed to do...

It's a long story, but the short of it was he'd be releasing the city from the hostage situation he'd placed it in. Him and his partner.

[It's a very, very general way to put it, but it's a way that L would understand, she thinks.]

When it comes to the truth, and you're able to see it... the options are to accept it, or to fight it. Only one of those things makes a person look really stupid, in my experience.

[L'd had his moment of existential panic when he'd arrived here. It wasn't sustainable; he recognized, quickly, that it was a sink or swim moment, and even if he's still sort of dog-paddling, he's fighting futility in a way that generally meshes with their new reality. He's adapting. Maybe someday, he'll thrive.

New clothes will help a bit with that, hopefully.]

Do you believe that he will make things right? If time is passing where you're from, in your absence... were conditions favorable for him to make the choice you wanted him to?

Sometimes people aren't sure how to do either. They tend to flounder along, grasping to the truth but unable to find a clear path.

[She was waiting, more or less to feel grounded before moving forward. Inside of the city- there weren't the answers they needed here. It was only a starting point.

Soon, she'd have to leap in and seek information for herself, if not for others.]

I think...yes. I think the conditions were extremely favorable for him to make that choice. I've done everything I could to get him to the right place.

He just needs to take the last few steps.

[That might hit uncomfortably close to home, for L, because he has a long and uneasy history of pursuing the truth doggedly, but requiring proof as part of his own particular code. His last suspect had evaded him that way, to the last, and the results were devastating. Like Caren, he is not present to see the results of that devastation, so he can't be certain... but really, there were only so many ways it could have gone, weren't there?]

You've done all you can, with what you had at the time, so... I think that dwelling on it further wouldn't be beneficial in any way. That being said... I couldn't blame you, if you did think of it often, or consider your regrets, or what you might have done differently to increase your chances of success. Those things are only natural.

[And also his story, as well, conveniently cloaked in this separate narrative.]

[Poor L. She didn't know what his story was. She might learn it eventually, if she was so lucky.]

I did everything I could, considering the situation. It could have gone badly-and in the end, it might still.

But I'll trust him with this. If he arrives here...then he arrives here.

With everything else that's going on, I can't worry about what is happening in my world. I'll have to have faith that it exists, that it's fine-and that I'll be fine here.

And so will you.

Especially once you have clothes you're comfortable with.

[He doesn't let his guard down, and has ample reason not to in Geardagas where he is explicitly pretending to be someone who won't draw the attention of the types from his own world who want him dead. But there's a level that the right approach can access beyond the surface affectations, and Caren's done really well in that regard.

He fidgets when she expresses hope for him, because he didn't think he came across as needing reassurance. But maybe everyone does, on some level. Maybe he needs to let go of the idea that he can't feel or speak in ways that the detective L wouldn't, because that identity is amputated from humanity, does not need to feel or speak in those ways.

It'll be a constant, stressful battle to strike that balance. He can turn it into a science, if anyone can, but in a way, doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose?]

Oh... yes. Clothes are the reason we're here and speaking.

[He sounds like he feels a little foolish for letting the conversation stray so far and get so heavy. He should try to avoid that in the future, perhaps, but didn't Caren seem receptive to it, beyond just being polite and humoring him? He decides that this wasn't a misstep, ultimately.]

Do you think they really make that much of a difference? Did they, for you?

[Fashion has never mattered to him. It's a novel concept that it could make the difference between feeling anxious and feeling like everything is fine, and one that he should probably consider.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject