Veronique! You do care! And I thought you completely heartless. How pleased I am to be proved wrong. Yes, paper, yes, I will accept it. We will accept it. Of course.
Indeed? Ah, but now that I know how to interpret you, I will never make that mistake again.
I have a workroom, you must bring it here. Veronique will be very happy to see these materials, and to see you once again, of course. There are rooms in the lower levels--storerooms, but there are empty ones near to the back, and I have taken one of these for my own. You will know it when you are near to it.
[Wheelbarrow sounds so very promising--so promising that, if that was sarcasm, it will absolutely break Val's heart, inasmuch as it can be broken.
But: in the lower levels of the Gallows, behind the kitchen's chief storerooms, there are other storerooms, seldom used and largely left unattended. In the very back of these there is a door, outside of which, laid like a welcome mat, there is a large scorch mark. And the smell is not very good. Something like a zoo, and burning peat, and sulfur.]
[ It’s not sarcasm. However much paper Seneschal Salvio deigned to give over to Dick Dickerson, it’s guaranteed to be more than he wants to carry any significant distance in his arms. A wheelbarrow further offers the option of him throwing a few burlap sacks over the contents, obscuring the nature of them from view of potential witness accounts.
The scorch mark and sulfurous stink are all Dickerson needs; he parks the barrow and approaches to give the door a sharp knock, with a cursory glance around his ankles to ensure that there aren’t any freshly escaped ankle-high monstrosities to menace him while he waits. ]
[--comes the answer, from somewhere within. Val de Foncé is not summoned by knocking.]
It is open--or, if you insist upon courtesy, wait a moment longer. I am just finishing. [A bright tinkle of breaking glass counterpoints those words.
Inside, windows cut high on the wall let in thin strips of light. A big trestle table has been placed in the center of the room, and someone has taken the time to drag in carpets. Everything else is chaos. Paper and books and quills make a slurry on the scarred and burnt tabletop. A forest of wooden crates is in one corner. A jousting dummy faces down its depths from the other end of the room.
There is a small stove, unusual for a storeroom. Its exhaust pipe cleverly and messily routed to expel its smoke out one of the little windows. This has left sootmarks all over the ceiling, and a broad ring around the belly of the stove. Something in a pot has been left to steam on the burner. And there are more scorch marks on the floors and the walls and some of the windows, too far from the stove to have originated there.
All of this Richard Dickerson and his wheelbarrow will see, if they wait for Val to eventually open the door--or if they bravely accept his invitation and enter.]
It is courteous enough, he would contend, to let yourself in after you’ve been invited to.
He stands in the open frame for a long moment, marking the debris field of documentation across the table first and the dummy last, with an impressive array of health and safety standard violations in the spaces in between. The sheer frequency and intensity of the scorch marks is a surprise, as is the cooking in progress.
He sniffs, experimentally, still on the threshold. Is it food or is it an incendiary chemical?
The wheelbarrow waits nervously outside. ]
I didn’t know you were an alchemist. [ Is a polite way of putting this disaster in a box. ]
[The aroma is of incendiary cooking, but there is no need to fear. Val is situated in a large overstuffed chair very near to the stove--sat sideways, barefoot and in repose, his legs slung over the arm of the chair close to the stove. If he stretched his leg out, he might be able to push the pot off of the burner and prevent destruction. Or make destruction worse.
He is reading, a book in one hand, a stalk of wild carrot in the other. He twitches the flower in Richard's direction in greeting without looking up from the book.]
I am a demolitionist. The two sometimes cross, but I detest those that make a claim to some knowledge or expertise that they do not possess. [Still reading, he tips his head back a bit, directing this next part over his shoulder--] Veronique, come out and see your friend! He is here for you.
[There is a rustling under the armchair. The fringe of its upholstered skirt acts like a kind of curtain, but Veronique will soon make her appearance.]
[ What does this remind him of. Unlocking a chest and flipping it open only to find that it is packed fat with tongue and teeth and sucking gums. This room feels dangerous, and Dick wars with himself in silence over whether or not it could possibly be worth it to step inside. Before he can decide, de Foncé calls to Veronique, and there is a rustling under his chair.
Richard drops his eye line to the fringed skirt, and catches the breath he’s just taken in to remark that it’s unlikely she has the capacity to understand.
He speaks to his snake, doesn’t he? ]
I won’t overstay, [ he says to the fringe, ready to depart even before his good friend has appeared: ] I can leave the entire cart if need be.
No, no no no no no no-- [Again, Val twitches the wild carrot, more forcefully, and still without looking up from what he is reading--] I am nearly finished, I will receive you in a moment, this is a crucial passage but so badly written it takes longer to read, and so inane that I can carry on at least half a conversation while still reading it, but not a conversation entire, which is a disservice to you--
[The fringe beneath the chair parts for Veronique's antennae. She has grown a little. Not enough to be truly terrifying, yet, especially when one has beheld her before. Her head is now the size of a small bucket, if small buckets glittered chitinously and had large compound eyes and glistening mandibles.
[ De Foncé is doubtless too far away to see the hair prickling at the scruff of Richard’s neck when Veronique reveals herself, and distracted with his book besides. Tension spasms stiff up the butt of his spine, and flinches through his jaw. There is something instinctively upsetting about the size and articulation of her armored segments under sober conditions.
Dick wobbles through an exhale by way of initial hallo, deeply unsure. ]
Hello Veronique, [ he tells her, with greater confidence (and courtesy) once he’s had a beat to consciously wring biochemical fear from the folds of his mammal brain. ]
You’re busy, [ he adds, aside to Val. ] I’ll leave the cart. [ Decisive, with a step back, and a hand at the door. ]
[Veronique makes another snkr, a wet kind of sound, as she scuttles out a little further. Val snaps his book shut nearly in the same moment.]
There!
[He throws the book away onto the table--it lands, skids across the scarred surface, and bumps up against a pitcher--and swings his legs over the chair. Without treading on Veronique (she makes yet another snkr, antennae waving in--? irritation?), he crosses the space to the door before Richard can back away, and holds the door open against his attempt to close it.]
I am not busy any longer. And if I was, I would gladly interrupt for this. Come, please! Bring the cart inside, and yourself, too. You have our attention. Come!
[ So caught on the threshold, with his hand still fixed on the door, Dick sizes Val de Foncé up at close range. He is sharper while sober, in the pierce of his eyes and the way he’s pressed stiff into his clothes, but also markedly less nasty. There’s no acidic prickle to the steady pressure he keeps on the door itself -- polite insistence that tapers into lighter resistance, and finally, a weary nod.
He steps wordlessly away to collect the cart.
But he doesn’t have to pretend to be thrilled about it. ]
As far as official records are concerned, half of this burned up in the abomination incident. [ He says so quietly, as he wheels it into Val’s chamber. FYI. ]
[Val steps grandly aside to allow entry to his friend and the cart. He even holds the door open, gentlemanly and accommodating, with a little bow.]
Oh, yes? But I can understand how. Such destruction. [Very sincerely, he presses a hand to his heart.] A pity, truly. You are very clever, I think.
[Veronique has emerged by now, clear of the chair's skirt. She is careful as she taps her way over, her antennae waving gently through the air, feeling out her path before her. Val gives her a smile as she comes closer.]
We are lucky to have you. Veronique has been making do with what we have, but your contribution is greatly appreciated. I can tell.
[ Dick looks upon the bow with suspicion, but here he is, paper and cart. He leans to throw the canvas back off the cache, and steps well back, expression little changed from its initial wary read. This place is a disaster.
And he is content to leave any animal handling to de Foncé. ]
She’s very welcome, [ he does say, closely followed by a heavier-handed, ] Now, monsieur de Foncé, if that is all...
[And Val kicks the door closed, and turns to face Richard with a brilliant smile.]
But of course now you can tell me the origin of the paper. Do not stand there, sit down! There is a chair--somewhere--
[He pushes away from the door, which, now closed, is clearly an immobile and impenetrable barrier. How thick it is, how well-made, with its heavy iron hinges and heavy iron ring to pull it open and closed. Not locked, but solid enough that a thief or escaping guest would have to work very hard to pull it open again.]
Here!
[Val sweeps a drop cloth aside with a certain flourish, unveiling a simple and sturdy wooden chair, stacked with books and paper. He grabs half in his arms and plunks them down onto the table. A great puff of dust goes up.]
There is a cushion still on this one, I think. Under the--paper-- [with effort and strain, as he gathers another armload.]
[ Krill shrimps detecting the pall of a whale’s baleen sweeping over them as black seawater pitches them back through the gullet must have the same look: appalled, in whiskery, arthropod-minded miniature. Richard watches the door shut in the same brand of sea-tossed silence, and looks more directly to Valentine.
I requisitioned it for another project, [ he says, and does not sit. Dimly, he registers the sweep of the sheet, the shuffle of papers he now looks upon with resignation.
There is so much paper in here already. ]
I lied.
[ To clarify. He catches a sneeze with his elbow, from which he recovers with a sniff, and a more critical glance up and down. ]
Is this where you sleep?
Edited (dont look at me) Date: 2020-09-19 03:01 am (UTC)
[Val laughs--not at the question, but at the impeccably comedic and surely purposeful timing of that confession. The chair's cushion has been uncovered, and he takes it over to the wall and starts to hit it against the stones. Great puffs of dust poof up from it.]
That is the only way to get paper out of tight-fisted supply cupboards and requisition departments, and a time-honored tradition besides. You were right to do it.
[Whmp whmp whmp, says the cushion. It is a dingy maroon, its color coming clearer now that the dust is off of it.
Veronique has completed her approach and is feeling gently at the air between herself and Richard. Her large eyes glimmer in the light quite fetchingly. Val, playing the less demure host, answers on their joint behalf as he returns to toss the cushion back upon the chair.]
I have a room, of course, for sleeping. It is, I am told, healthy to have that separation. But I have moved more and more of my things into this room, and have thought of relocating here entirely--and yet I think that I will resist the impulse. I would very much miss my friends if I did that. Of course I would have dear Veronique for company, but that is not entirely the same. She does not argue so very well.
It would be unconscionably dangerous, [ Richard supplies, helpfully, and with flat affect. That’s why he asked.
He still does not sit. But he does sink himself into a crouch -- the better to observe Veronique and her spined hairs and glittering eyes nearer to her level. ]
[--Says the man who is now using his thumbnail to scrape a crust of dirt off the label of a wine bottle so he can squint at it. Having assessed its suitability, Val goes to a spindly bookshelf and unearths some glasses. He spares a smile for Veronique over his shoulder.]
She does look well, doesn't she? Generally she takes some of whatever it is I am eating. Which means she is very well fed, for I hardly take my meals here of the common kitchens.
[The ant does not shy away from Richard as he crouches. Uncannily unafraid, she waves her antennae at him with a soft chitter. Either a word of agreement, or a cry for help.]
[ Dick peers speculatively across mandibles and faceted eyes, to the thorax, in cursory search of anything that even remotely resembles the start of a wing nubbin. And then on past that to the abdomen, for the pulse of a sting. ]
Has she shed her skin?
[ He stands, only to see that Val is now wielding a bottle of wine, and glasses to go with it. His eyes go from the glasses, to Val’s booty, to the stove, briefly distant while resignation sets hard in the bones of his face. ]
[Veronique chitters again, then abruptly turns and scurries back toward the sanctuary of the chair, giving Richard a good view of her booty.
And possibly: a flash of nubbins.]
I have not seen it shed yet. But I have not yet investigated beneath her chair in... [hmm] some days, I would say. A cup rolled beneath it and I had to fetch it out again.
[He hands the bottle of wine to Richard and pushes past him.]
She would be reclusive while the new skin hardened. We should investigate.
[ Today, he means -- no surprise for the bottle that’s passed into his hands as de Fonce brushes past. He is too preoccupied with the implications of nubbins to do anything but retrieve a small knife from the inside of his boot, which he works down into the cork with a firm twist. ]
If she’s shedding, we -- [ he self corrects: ] you can use the husks to track potentially significant changes in physiology.
[ Dick twists the bottle while he holds the blade, pausing only briefly and as an afterthought to peer at the label. Previously he’d gone out of his way to remark upon the vintage. ]
By ‘significant,’ I mean ‘worrisome.’ [ So they’re clear. ]
[The label is still dirty, despite Val's brief intervention, and depicts a tower with the name 'Haut-Brion' beneath it, all in a faded red ink. The script is delicate and curly.]
What would be worrisome? She will only become better with time.
[Val reaches up to the high windowsill and fumbles around for a moment, then comes up with a shallow dish. Triumphant, he carries it back.]
You do want her to become her best, yes? Why else would have brought her such fine paper to construct her nest with.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-08-20 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-20 11:55 pm (UTC)Where would you like me to take it?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-21 01:03 am (UTC)I have a workroom, you must bring it here. Veronique will be very happy to see these materials, and to see you once again, of course. There are rooms in the lower levels--storerooms, but there are empty ones near to the back, and I have taken one of these for my own. You will know it when you are near to it.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-21 02:56 am (UTC)[ He'll never make the same mistake again? Veronique will be very happy to see him? He will know it when he is near it? ]
I'll retrieve a wheelbarrow from the yard and meet you down there.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-24 12:58 am (UTC)[Wheelbarrow sounds so very promising--so promising that, if that was sarcasm, it will absolutely break Val's heart, inasmuch as it can be broken.
But: in the lower levels of the Gallows, behind the kitchen's chief storerooms, there are other storerooms, seldom used and largely left unattended. In the very back of these there is a door, outside of which, laid like a welcome mat, there is a large scorch mark. And the smell is not very good. Something like a zoo, and burning peat, and sulfur.]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-24 02:22 am (UTC)The scorch mark and sulfurous stink are all Dickerson needs; he parks the barrow and approaches to give the door a sharp knock, with a cursory glance around his ankles to ensure that there aren’t any freshly escaped ankle-high monstrosities to menace him while he waits. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-27 04:07 am (UTC)[--comes the answer, from somewhere within. Val de Foncé is not summoned by knocking.]
It is open--or, if you insist upon courtesy, wait a moment longer. I am just finishing. [A bright tinkle of breaking glass counterpoints those words.
Inside, windows cut high on the wall let in thin strips of light. A big trestle table has been placed in the center of the room, and someone has taken the time to drag in carpets. Everything else is chaos. Paper and books and quills make a slurry on the scarred and burnt tabletop. A forest of wooden crates is in one corner. A jousting dummy faces down its depths from the other end of the room.
There is a small stove, unusual for a storeroom. Its exhaust pipe cleverly and messily routed to expel its smoke out one of the little windows. This has left sootmarks all over the ceiling, and a broad ring around the belly of the stove. Something in a pot has been left to steam on the burner. And there are more scorch marks on the floors and the walls and some of the windows, too far from the stove to have originated there.
All of this Richard Dickerson and his wheelbarrow will see, if they wait for Val to eventually open the door--or if they bravely accept his invitation and enter.]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-28 05:32 pm (UTC)It is courteous enough, he would contend, to let yourself in after you’ve been invited to.
He stands in the open frame for a long moment, marking the debris field of documentation across the table first and the dummy last, with an impressive array of health and safety standard violations in the spaces in between. The sheer frequency and intensity of the scorch marks is a surprise, as is the cooking in progress.
He sniffs, experimentally, still on the threshold. Is it food or is it an incendiary chemical?
The wheelbarrow waits nervously outside. ]
I didn’t know you were an alchemist. [ Is a polite way of putting this disaster in a box. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-29 10:00 pm (UTC)He is reading, a book in one hand, a stalk of wild carrot in the other. He twitches the flower in Richard's direction in greeting without looking up from the book.]
I am a demolitionist. The two sometimes cross, but I detest those that make a claim to some knowledge or expertise that they do not possess. [Still reading, he tips his head back a bit, directing this next part over his shoulder--] Veronique, come out and see your friend! He is here for you.
[There is a rustling under the armchair. The fringe of its upholstered skirt acts like a kind of curtain, but Veronique will soon make her appearance.]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-03 01:30 am (UTC)Richard drops his eye line to the fringed skirt, and catches the breath he’s just taken in to remark that it’s unlikely she has the capacity to understand.
He speaks to his snake, doesn’t he? ]
I won’t overstay, [ he says to the fringe, ready to depart even before his good friend has appeared: ] I can leave the entire cart if need be.
[ Surely nobody noticed him taking it. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-04 02:50 am (UTC)[The fringe beneath the chair parts for Veronique's antennae. She has grown a little. Not enough to be truly terrifying, yet, especially when one has beheld her before. Her head is now the size of a small bucket, if small buckets glittered chitinously and had large compound eyes and glistening mandibles.
She makes a skrrk noise. Maybe a greeting.]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-06 08:31 pm (UTC)Dick wobbles through an exhale by way of initial hallo, deeply unsure. ]
Hello Veronique, [ he tells her, with greater confidence (and courtesy) once he’s had a beat to consciously wring biochemical fear from the folds of his mammal brain. ]
You’re busy, [ he adds, aside to Val. ] I’ll leave the cart. [ Decisive, with a step back, and a hand at the door. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-07 06:15 pm (UTC)There!
[He throws the book away onto the table--it lands, skids across the scarred surface, and bumps up against a pitcher--and swings his legs over the chair. Without treading on Veronique (she makes yet another snkr, antennae waving in--? irritation?), he crosses the space to the door before Richard can back away, and holds the door open against his attempt to close it.]
I am not busy any longer. And if I was, I would gladly interrupt for this. Come, please! Bring the cart inside, and yourself, too. You have our attention. Come!
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 04:19 am (UTC)He steps wordlessly away to collect the cart.
But he doesn’t have to pretend to be thrilled about it. ]
As far as official records are concerned, half of this burned up in the abomination incident. [ He says so quietly, as he wheels it into Val’s chamber. FYI. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-13 05:55 pm (UTC)Oh, yes? But I can understand how. Such destruction. [Very sincerely, he presses a hand to his heart.] A pity, truly. You are very clever, I think.
[Veronique has emerged by now, clear of the chair's skirt. She is careful as she taps her way over, her antennae waving gently through the air, feeling out her path before her. Val gives her a smile as she comes closer.]
We are lucky to have you. Veronique has been making do with what we have, but your contribution is greatly appreciated. I can tell.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-14 06:53 pm (UTC)And he is content to leave any animal handling to de Foncé. ]
She’s very welcome, [ he does say, closely followed by a heavier-handed, ] Now, monsieur de Foncé, if that is all...
[ He is still trying to leave. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-19 12:45 am (UTC)But of course now you can tell me the origin of the paper. Do not stand there, sit down! There is a chair--somewhere--
[He pushes away from the door, which, now closed, is clearly an immobile and impenetrable barrier. How thick it is, how well-made, with its heavy iron hinges and heavy iron ring to pull it open and closed. Not locked, but solid enough that a thief or escaping guest would have to work very hard to pull it open again.]
Here!
[Val sweeps a drop cloth aside with a certain flourish, unveiling a simple and sturdy wooden chair, stacked with books and paper. He grabs half in his arms and plunks them down onto the table. A great puff of dust goes up.]
There is a cushion still on this one, I think. Under the--paper-- [with effort and strain, as he gathers another armload.]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-19 03:00 am (UTC)I requisitioned it for another project, [ he says, and does not sit. Dimly, he registers the sweep of the sheet, the shuffle of papers he now looks upon with resignation.
There is so much paper in here already. ]
I lied.
[ To clarify. He catches a sneeze with his elbow, from which he recovers with a sniff, and a more critical glance up and down. ]
Is this where you sleep?
no subject
Date: 2020-09-24 12:12 am (UTC)That is the only way to get paper out of tight-fisted supply cupboards and requisition departments, and a time-honored tradition besides. You were right to do it.
[Whmp whmp whmp, says the cushion. It is a dingy maroon, its color coming clearer now that the dust is off of it.
Veronique has completed her approach and is feeling gently at the air between herself and Richard. Her large eyes glimmer in the light quite fetchingly. Val, playing the less demure host, answers on their joint behalf as he returns to toss the cushion back upon the chair.]
I have a room, of course, for sleeping. It is, I am told, healthy to have that separation. But I have moved more and more of my things into this room, and have thought of relocating here entirely--and yet I think that I will resist the impulse. I would very much miss my friends if I did that. Of course I would have dear Veronique for company, but that is not entirely the same. She does not argue so very well.
And of course, there is no bed.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-28 07:58 am (UTC)He still does not sit. But he does sink himself into a crouch -- the better to observe Veronique and her spined hairs and glittering eyes nearer to her level. ]
May I ask what you’re feeding her?
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 01:01 am (UTC)[--Says the man who is now using his thumbnail to scrape a crust of dirt off the label of a wine bottle so he can squint at it. Having assessed its suitability, Val goes to a spindly bookshelf and unearths some glasses. He spares a smile for Veronique over his shoulder.]
She does look well, doesn't she? Generally she takes some of whatever it is I am eating. Which means she is very well fed, for I hardly take my meals here of the common kitchens.
[The ant does not shy away from Richard as he crouches. Uncannily unafraid, she waves her antennae at him with a soft chitter. Either a word of agreement, or a cry for help.]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 02:00 am (UTC)[ Dick peers speculatively across mandibles and faceted eyes, to the thorax, in cursory search of anything that even remotely resembles the start of a wing nubbin. And then on past that to the abdomen, for the pulse of a sting. ]
Has she shed her skin?
[ He stands, only to see that Val is now wielding a bottle of wine, and glasses to go with it. His eyes go from the glasses, to Val’s booty, to the stove, briefly distant while resignation sets hard in the bones of his face. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 03:03 am (UTC)And possibly: a flash of nubbins.]
I have not seen it shed yet. But I have not yet investigated beneath her chair in... [hmm] some days, I would say. A cup rolled beneath it and I had to fetch it out again.
[He hands the bottle of wine to Richard and pushes past him.]
Open this as I fetch the bowl.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 03:58 am (UTC)[ Today, he means -- no surprise for the bottle that’s passed into his hands as de Fonce brushes past. He is too preoccupied with the implications of nubbins to do anything but retrieve a small knife from the inside of his boot, which he works down into the cork with a firm twist. ]
If she’s shedding, we -- [ he self corrects: ] you can use the husks to track potentially significant changes in physiology.
[ Dick twists the bottle while he holds the blade, pausing only briefly and as an afterthought to peer at the label. Previously he’d gone out of his way to remark upon the vintage. ]
By ‘significant,’ I mean ‘worrisome.’ [ So they’re clear. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 05:34 pm (UTC)What would be worrisome? She will only become better with time.
[Val reaches up to the high windowsill and fumbles around for a moment, then comes up with a shallow dish. Triumphant, he carries it back.]
You do want her to become her best, yes? Why else would have brought her such fine paper to construct her nest with.
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