open | back in the atmosphere

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Lexie, Loki, Lea, Yseult, you
WHAT: complaining, spy things, catch-all for all your Lexie-based needs
WHEN: Presently, just after her return from Val Royeaux
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Hi again <3

Loki:
The carriage is unloaded, its driver paid, and its riders retired within the estate to trade their road-dusted travelwear for something eminently more comfortable. Tea is made and delivered to the sitting room followed closely by a robed Alexandrie finger-combing her released curls who disdains the other plush chair beside the small tea-bearing table in favor of wiggling herself into the space between the long droll stretch of her husband and the arm of his chair, tucking her head beneath his chin and sighing with gusty finality once settled against his side.

“Merde.”


Leander and Yseult:
It’s easier this way; all three of them, in Yseult’s office late on the evening of her return, Alexandrie still standing, uncorking a bottle of exceedingly fine wine retrieved from the family’s cellars in Val Royeaux to soften the frustration she brought back along with it for them—and to soften whatever local frustration she’s to be briefed on.

“Shall I begin?” is her query over the quiet pop of the cork releasing, “It will be a thing of depressing brevity.”


Wildcard!
[Come at her wherever; home or studio in Hightown, Gallows office, library, somewhere completely different!

Alternately, come at me, and we can figure something out if you like. shaestorms or shae#7274 on discord]

Comments

[untiltheyarent]

It's difficult to feel like much of a diamond when one is scrubbing semen stains out of the carpet, but that's always been an element of La Vulpesse's illustrious career and some things never change.

But at least this has. Rising from domestic servitude to the more clerical kind is something her father would be proud of, if he only knew.

"I can occupy myself," Fifi replies, approaching with her hands folded in front of her, "unless there is needlework that my lady needs doing."

[coquettish_trees]

A brief wave of Alexandrie's hand as she sits at her desk says there isn't.

"I know little of what attendance you were required to dance on Lord Thor; I imagine slightly less time spent in the mornings?" Her smile twitches with mirth, thinking of Asgard's eldest son with his hair piled with painstaking elegance atop his head.