open | it's hot up here

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Lexie, Colin, Leander, you
WHAT: Catch-all for Lexie including paint, rage, and a generally terrible day at the office made worse.
WHEN: Presently
WHERE: Hightown and the Gallows
NOTES: She may try to get into a fight with every single person here

I. Colin

There is an odd noise, from the studio. A dull repetitive thudding. It's broken every so often by silence, but it always resumes again.

Searching it out yields Alexandrie, kneeling on a raw unstretched canvas that would fit her body should she lie on it and stretch, pounding her paint-covered fist over and over onto it, her breathing labored as she fills the space fist by fist with something vast and dark. The pause comes when she reaches to cover her hand again with pigment.

There is a second pause, to reach for the bottle beside her.


II. Leander

There are rooftops now, of a sort, and buildings beneath them, rendering the vast darkness on her canvas a yet starless sky. She flinches sometimes, when some thought darkens her brow and her hand comes down a little harder, but she makes no attempt to lessen her own force. There is paint on her face, where she's scrubbed at the sweat born from exertion and relentless heat, and the curls that have loosened themselves at the sides of her face swing with her movement. Stick. Are dislodged again. Swing.

Alexandrie had instructed Marceau to not allow visitors, but Leander isn't a visitor. Leander is both her second in command and she'd long ago given him the run of the studio, and thus he was given no challenge at the door.


III. Jeshavis Office (Open)

There is, just before your entrance, a gasp and then a sharp oath. An odd one; the country of origin of the phrase is Antiva, but the words start in Tevene. It doesn't translate well.

Inside, the Lady Alexandrie persists in her dogged determination to look at least moderately finished. The result is a woman even paler than usual and quite obviously due to what one might argue is the over-application of cosmetics rather than the infinite care she takes to stay shielded from the sun. The amount of powder required to stop herself from melting is frankly absurd. Despite the care she's taken, and the unceasing movement of the fan wielded with as much ferocity as any weapon, the sweat is slowly beginning its march again on the sides of her face.

The source of the oath: the condensation from the glass on her desk, unchecked, has made it into the base of her stack of papers and has begun to lift the ink.

"Qu'Est-ce que c'est," she says, sharp and irritable. A pause. And then, without looking up from where she's trying to blot the water from the page, "What."


IV. Wildcard!

Comments

iii.

[hornswoggle]

In the doorway, John holds up a hand.

"Sorry," is the first thing out of his mouth, though he isn't entirely sure he's interrupting something. "I came to ask a favor."

Which he's thinking better of now that he's considered her tone. The heat is making life unbearable for a lot of people. It's forcibly reminding John of the doldrums, the long, agonizing spell the Walrus had spent becalmed, and dwelling on that for too long is unsettling. (It becomes more and more relevant to the present situation, mired in a completely different landscape without a means of forward movement.) He takes a single step forward, positioning himself decidedly inside the office but no farther.

Poised to beat a hasty retreat if this goes poorly, as it were.

[coquettish_trees]

“Have you.”

Her eyebrows arch. It’s not an encouraging response, precisely, but neither is it a dismissal. Alexandrie’s eyes flicker up to regard John in between pats of the paper.

“Personal, or professional?”

[hornswoggle]

There's a moment of hesitation. John does not initiate this lightly. But he has taken the step, so there is nothing left but to follow it through.

"Personal."

The word is weighted.

"But I'm aware I may be asking too much," John admits, moving into the room, along towards the window. "But it's a delicate matter. I assume you know of the situation in Nascere?"

[coquettish_trees]

The paper, as dry as it is like to get through her action, is set aside to continue the process in the sunbeam that insists upon crawling across her desk each day. Let the heat do some good. Alexandrie turns back to John, her hand turning palm to the ceiling: yes. Or, at least, enough.

"There has been some change, I assume, if you have been induced to seek me now," she surmises, her head tilting with carefully idle curiosity.

[hornswoggle]

"Not exactly a change there, but more a change in my own circumstances."

As John says this, he is aware once again the nature of this gamble. Opening up some small part of himself to Lexie, however pleasant their journey had been previously, is still a risk.

And yet.

"There are people on that island I would like to be in closer contact with." A beat. "Closer, private contact. I was hoping you could help me come up with a way to do that."

There's some tactical advantage to this, but John isn't thinking of that. He's thinking of Madi, and the packet of letters, unsent, that had been left undisturbed in his quarters. Had he died at the hands of that foolish baron, all that ink would have been for nothing.

It's been a year. This is the best alternative he can think of.

[coquettish_trees]

A considering hum.

"And you have come to me rather than the woman under whose purview the establishment of covert communication routes lies because...?"

Alexandrie could hazard a few guesses. Because they have worked together already, because he thinks her more liable than Yseult to be sympathetic to need in matters of the heart—which she assumes this 'closer, private contact' is—because he thinks she has access to private resources both Orlesian and Tevene.

None of which would be incorrect assumptions on John's part, but it's always nice to hear what reason someone will give.

[hornswoggle]

"Because I know you."

It costs John nothing to admit.

"And because I think there would need to be something more pressing than the need to reassure myself that things haven't gone completely wrong in my absence before I involved Yseult."

Nascere is a tricky subject at the best of times. Yseult's involvement would invite more commentary, and for all that they came here seeking reinforcements, John wants to approach that on even footing. Opening discussion by begging a favor wouldn't show the situation in the best light.