[open-ish] asked the foreman what time of day it was

[untiltheyarent]

WHO: Fifi, Beleth, a mystery elf, and you
WHAT: A little of this a little of that, book thievery, running errands
WHEN: Cloudreach
WHERE: Hightown and The Gallows
NOTES: Warnings will be updated as they arise

for Beleth

It's a morning that Fifi is on errands, and though she has no reason to come to the Gallows, Beleth is here so that's what she does. Having rapped briskly on the scoutmaster's door, once admitted she comes in and withdraws a tome from her satchel, her hand shaking slightly with its weight-- and perhaps with nerves-- as she gives it over.

placeholder for Loki's valet

I'm sure it'll be fine


OPEN

I. The Gallows
Fifi's not normally in the Gallows, and because she currently is, she's looking a little furtive and like she's in a hurry to get either to her destination or back to the boats. This would be easier if it weren't so crowded, and if she weren't so small and easily jostled about, but what can you do.
Perhaps she runs into someone, steps on their foot in her haste, or just looks so strung out they have to know why.

II. Hightown

An elven servant in Hightown is nothing to look twice at, which is what Fifi counts on. She walks about with her basket, running her errands, being treated kindly by some merchants and talked down to by others. She's on business for the Asgard household, but can be dissuaded from it for short moments.

III. Misc

Whenever, wherever, we're meant to be together

Comments

[hwaaaitsme]

"It has come to my attention," Coleus began as he stepped forward through the foyer in front of the line of assembled servants. The elves in line stood stock still, heads up and hands folded before them. They were the picture of formality, their outfits were all crisply pressed and free from dirt, their faces scrubbed and hair neatly done. He eyed them as he walked the line, checking for guilt as much as proper attire. Eventually his vision crossed over Fifi but he paid her no more attention than anyone else.

"That someone has been in my room," he says as he reaches the end of the line and his boot heel clicks hard against the marble.

"I am certain the lot of you were told of the incident with the Master's guest," Coleus says crisply and turns around to face them all again. "But, I cannot stress the limitations of the house rules firmly enough.

"Under absolutely no circumstances are any of you to enter the Masters' chambers or my own without my accompaniment. It is absolutely required." He glares down the line. "Anyone caught behaving otherwise will have their pay docked and, depending on the Master's mood or my own, will be promptly flogged.

"Do I make myself clear?"

[untiltheyarent]

Having been in her previous line of work, Fifi knows how to mask her anxiety and give the customer what he wants. She stands there as tidily and formally as any of the others, meeting Coleus' gaze with one of bland acceptance, despite how her stomach twists within her.
Her "yes, ser" is a little offset from the others, though it could be chalked up to her accent and the strangeness of speaking in Trade. Normally she'd say oui, messere, but it's probably better to blend in.

[hwaaaitsme]

Coleus listens to the chorus of agreements with a dispassionate and vaguely disdainful expression. None of them were particularly strange and as such he had no leads on who had stolen from him. His stare lists over then again and with a wave of his hand he starts breaking them up.

"Maids, begin on this floor. The construction workers have made a terrible mess of it. You two men, upstairs, polish the railings until they shine." He pauses and, idly, points at one of the elves. Fifi.

"You, come with me, the banners must be laundered of dust."

[untiltheyarent]

She's cautious and waits until Coleus has turned away before rolling her eyes, then follows as obediently as any elf servant should. At one point Fifi made the mistake of thinking being head maid meant something, at the very least avoiding the constant dumping and derision from the Asgards' personal staff, but she has since learned that this is very much not the case.
C'est la vie. Men will be men.

When they reach the banners, she dutifully begins to take them down, gathering them as carefully as she can for one of such small stature dealing with such heavy fabrics.