Patricia Williams
Stories
9
Chapters
5,411
Words
4.6 M
Comments
0
Reading
16 d, 0 h
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FUCKING PRELATE. FUCKING TEMPLE! FUUUUUUCKING CATS! This was supposed to be a vacation start! Not the "oops I accidentally fundamental truths". Again. AAAARGH. Ok. Fine. Whatever. It seems to be fairly well self-managing, at least. But good grief, I so do not need yet another metric fuckton of publicity on top of everything. Because of course priests did not even think about keeping this quiet. Nope, no way. Let's instead tell everyfuckingoneever that "Lady Gillespie did it again! Not sure what that is…-
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...or they would have in a less formalist society. As it was, the king and the prelate entered a private audience room in the castle. Abraham took one look at the shellshocked prelate and shouted down the corridor for mulled wine and cold cuts. Iohann nodded thankfully. "...Much obliged, old friend." - he sighed - "And the thing is, I can not complain because I literally asked for it!" Abraham snorted. "Iohann, if there is something I learned this autumn, is that you do not ask lady Gillespie to just…
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I'm paying visits and setting things. As really befits of someone who is expecting to be away from the capital for a considerable amount of time. The plan is pretty simple. The end of the year is in two days. My airship is plodding slowly over the Champagne right now, bound for Gillespie estate, where the entirety of my family will board it to come to Parsee. There will be five days of holidays, during which there will be an official proclamation that father is now duke, and after that, we will depart. A…
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"You want HOW MUCH quicksilver, milady?" - alchemist repeats in a slightly horrified voice. "A posson." - I repeat mildly. Next to me, Alistair blinks. "That doesn't seem that much." - he adds. "Young sir, a posson of quicksilver would weigh almost four livres." - alchemist retorts - "And it is far more than I keep at any time. Quicksilver is poisonous, you know. Gives you shakes if you don't handle it with caution." Curious. This is unusually early for people to realize that heavy metals are…
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In the end, none of my girls wants to miss this. Cy included. I'm somewhat certain her chaos abilities include a sort of precog ability, by the way, because her assessment is "Unca Ed saaax. "Ladies." - he proffers gallantly, as he kisses proffered "Lady Gillespie..." - he ventures softly, slowing down so he is trotting next to me, while Cy gleefully hangs off his arm - "Is your daughter a seer perchance?" "Um... Maybe. Why do you ask?" - I venture equally softly, and he shrugs with a helpless…
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"You want what?" - and that's a legit question to pose. Because Selene seems to have some... interesting ideas about my capabilities. "A hurdy-gurdy." - she confirms, blinking at me - "Come on, you can conjure metal by the ton. I've seen what you did at the exams. A bit of wood and some strings shouldn't be that hard." "Selene, I can't just conjure it. For the simple reason that it would time out and disappear. Permanent conjurations... well, let me put it this way. I'd actually need some kind of…
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Things are going well. I'm feeling a little paranoid about it, actually. Not paranoid enough to do something stupid, thankfully, but wary of possible complications I haven't foreseen. It's been four days since the talk with mother, and I've just come back from doing a repeat conversation with father included. Who takes to being suddenly grandpa with surprising aplomb, just like mom. We have discussed possible options and such, because by all the indications they find having a granddaughter to be exciting…
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Aisha huffed. Darn husk just wouldn't move! That narrow passage between the two houses was the most convenient way to the well, and the husk just would not step out of it. She knew better than try to manhandle the dead body chock-full of magical bees, but nothing else she tried registered with the darn thing. As it was, she was forced to circle around the whole quarter, adding more than twice over to her overall path. Which, while you were unladen, was not that much of a deal, but mattered a whole lot when…
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I am incredibly thankful some tropes are just tropes and some tidbits are just tidbits. In this particular case, I'm doubly glad Cy has no particular attachment to the collection of rags she was wearing since manifestation. While her demands regarding clothes are quite strict, they're entirely manageable in a way that would let us adhere to local morality and even fashion. Hooray for medieval ages being more accepting of multicolored clothes. Other than insisting she is to have no less than five colors on…
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"So... How much do you actually know about the origins of that letter?" "Vat letta?" "The one you handed to me back then." "Noh letta." "Not a letter?" "Nup. Hyu wreeet letta. Dis maded." "Yowch. Technically correct, but... Is it also my fault you seem to be taking verbal clues from orks?" "Nuh-huh, jussa funning." "Well, so long as you don't plan on WAAGH..." "For Kayoss!" "Yes, I should have expected this much. Chaos, huh? I can't imagine the loci are the same, though... Local elves certainly…
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