[Closed] It's curtains for someone

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Anders, Petrana de Cedoux
WHAT: Decorating an office
WHEN: Handwavyish. It's in there somewhere.
WHERE: Petra's office!
NOTES: Warning: interior decorating ahead.

White had been her answer, white as her favorite color, but thankfully she hadn't sounded entirely certain. Thankfully, because an office that's stone and white would be cold and this far south is already plenty cold. He gathers up several different samples of what he currently has, mostly colors but two shades of white just in case, and heads over to her office.

A brisk walk later, and she's got a knock at the door as he tries not to drop anything.

Comments

[ipseite]

There is always something more to be done -

Her budget to manage, a report to read, a proposal to review, a complaint - God above but there are enough complaints to field, and with Thranduil's feet firmly beneath his desk now to round out their Kirkwall leadership there will doubtless be more as the sight of them all in this tower draws both eyes and ire - it is unending. It is nothing to complain about, as she had said to Loghain: she sought this, and there is nothing for it but to buckle down and do the job that's in front of her.

Nevertheless, it's apparent when she stares blankly at Anders' arms laden with ... fabrics? ... that she has, for at least a moment, entirely forgotten why on earth he is there.

A little nug nudges past her skirts, inquiring, and jolts her from wherever her thoughts had ground to a halt; she bends to pick it up, and beams, and ushers him in-

“It is perhaps too late to pretend I'd been expecting you,” she says, an apologetic laugh in her voice, “but I have written the same thing in three ways now, so you're perfectly timely. Shall we have tea?”

[justice_is_blond]

He raises an eyebrow at the little nug, glad he hadn't brought Purrelden. She behaves well enough, but nugs have a tendency to run and cats have a tendency to chase. A moment later Petrana's words are drawing his attention upward, and he smiles warmly back.

"If you'd like, I could leave and then come back in so that we can pretend." Despite his words, he's coming into the room and carefully setting the stuff down on an edge of the desk so no paper piles are disrupted.

"I'd enjoy tea. And I've..." He shakes his head. "I've been there, writing the same thing over and over and not getting anywhere. Would you like to discuss that portion too, or just making these walls a little less foreboding?"

[ipseite]

“What is life if not a great deal of shouting into the void,” she says, lightly dry. “It will keep a while.”

The nug - who needs a name, but that will keep, too, Petrana not in any great rush - she sets down again once the door has swung gently closed behind him, the room itself mostly warm from the fire in the grate; it is arranged well, her desk nearest the window, comfortable chairs for discussion by the hearthside, a lower table. Bookshelves, slowly accumulating the clutter of work and life, though little that seems particular beyond her work. Her tea service sits on the low table, and begins to warm when she touches the glyph on the side of the pot; ever-ready for company.

Her wedding band has shifted from her hand to a simple chain below the jet locket always hanging about her throat, but in all other respects she is much as she usually is, neatly and plainly dressed- not quite of a piece with her new surroundings, just yet. Araceli has recommendations for a tailor, though outfitting herself appropriately may have to wait until necessity presses it. The budget is a balancing act at the best of times.