[Maketh too. Confirmation, then, that this is in response to the guard. Henry considers her question for a few seconds before he shakes his head slowly.]
...'Twould be an awfully intricate and uncertain means when the gods may directly afflict us.
[He picks up the sphere, turning it in his grip thoughtfully with no small amount of temptation.]
[It's not a comforting thought, but it does make sense. He frowns a moment, before the corners of his mouth lift as he really takes in the video feed.]
Did I wake thee? We could reconvene for breakfast in... hm. Let us say three hours...?
[Maketh wastes no time with dressing and arrives promptly at Henry's door in under fifteen minutes. Punctuality was encouraged in the Academy. She comes with some instant coffee in her bag, though, because this conversation - or whatever else ensues - will require her full attention. Lack of sleep has been catching up with her.
She knocks on the door, hair pinned up in a severe bun.]
[Henry opens the door and lets Maketh in. He is dressed in hose and a shirt of obvious medieval origin; neatly stitched repairs to the latter make it clear that these are what he wears beneath his layers of armour. He's just about finished laying out a modest breakfast spread on the kitchen table. All that is missing is a bowl of water for washing one's hands.]
Take a seat where you will.
[His own chair is half pulled out. On top of the table nearby waits his basket containing Hope's blessing.]
[As always, he's quick to answer the door. Maketh steps in, carrying her bag. Inside it she has the basket holding Hope's latest overture. She's not certain it can be called a gift.] Do you mind if I make some coffee? It helps me focus.
I would hardly keep you from that which bestows your vigour. [He replies, amused.] Henceforth treat my apartment as yours.
[Henry closes the door behind her, then heads into the kitchen to pour out a bowl of water. He sets it down on the table before he takes a seat there to await her.]
[It's said lightly, and just a little teasing. Maketh practically runs on coffee. Thankfully she's gotten to the point where she can brew it quickly when needed, and get straight back to business. She returns to the table with a steaming mug, then takes her seat.] Why us, do you think?
[Henry picks up the sphere. He lightly tosses it into the air and catches it, an idle, continuous action he keeps up as he speaks on.]
Their notice of our efforts comes late enough that I do not think them privy to the conversation which birthed it. In any case, there is but one way for us to grasp their intent.
[And that is to use the gift and see what it actually bestows.
Proving that his impetuous streak is alive and well, Henry holds her gaze as he abruptly crushes the the sphere in his hand on his next catch.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mismanagement) wrote2016-01-25 02:02 pm
no subject
...'Twould be an awfully intricate and uncertain means when the gods may directly afflict us.
[He picks up the sphere, turning it in his grip thoughtfully with no small amount of temptation.]
To what end?
no subject
[Maketh rubs her face, still fuzzy from sleep.] The last time this was done was--the wendigos, I believe.
[The gods must know something they don't.]
no subject
[It's not a comforting thought, but it does make sense. He frowns a moment, before the corners of his mouth lift as he really takes in the video feed.]
Did I wake thee? We could reconvene for breakfast in... hm. Let us say three hours...?
no subject
no subject
[Henry agrees, returning the sphere to the basket before he ends the feed.]
no subject
She knocks on the door, hair pinned up in a severe bun.]
no subject
Take a seat where you will.
[His own chair is half pulled out. On top of the table nearby waits his basket containing Hope's blessing.]
no subject
[As always, he's quick to answer the door. Maketh steps in, carrying her bag. Inside it she has the basket holding Hope's latest overture. She's not certain it can be called a gift.] Do you mind if I make some coffee? It helps me focus.
no subject
[Henry closes the door behind her, then heads into the kitchen to pour out a bowl of water. He sets it down on the table before he takes a seat there to await her.]
no subject
[It's said lightly, and just a little teasing. Maketh practically runs on coffee. Thankfully she's gotten to the point where she can brew it quickly when needed, and get straight back to business. She returns to the table with a steaming mug, then takes her seat.] Why us, do you think?
no subject
[Henry picks up the sphere. He lightly tosses it into the air and catches it, an idle, continuous action he keeps up as he speaks on.]
Their notice of our efforts comes late enough that I do not think them privy to the conversation which birthed it. In any case, there is but one way for us to grasp their intent.
[And that is to use the gift and see what it actually bestows.
Proving that his impetuous streak is alive and well, Henry holds her gaze as he abruptly crushes the the sphere in his hand on his next catch.]
no subject
[She doubts that Hope has forgiven her. She doubts Hope ever considers that he might be in the wrong.
She doesn't expect Henry to act as suddenly as she does and goes tense, reaching out to stop him.
Too late, it turns out.] Henry! Are you hurt?