it is my duty to inform you that we took a vote all us women ( open )

[ipseite]

WHO: Petrana + ?
WHAT: Nuggalope training.
WHEN: Current-ish.
WHERE: The Gallows.
NOTES: No content warnings currently applicable. You are not hallucinating, this post does look familiar; it was originally posted end of last year, but mod plot took precedent so I have deleted the untagged original post and am recycling it for reasons.

It is rare, for much of the Gallows, to see Mme de Cedoux out of her office. Rarer still to see her out of her office and not presently engaged in being on the way to an office, possibly hers. Their respective obligations mean that more often than not, it is Enchanter Rowntree who takes Vysvolod for his constitutionals; her outings tend to be more Hightown-oriented than not. If she does take her nuggalope—yes he is named the Black Divine, no she doesn't see anything at all wrong with it—out for his constitutionals, it is typically somewhat further afield than merely nearby the stables and the docks.

And yet.

The physical exercise has done her a world of good, much as it has taught the Black Divine skills that she hopes will never be necessary and knows the sense in hoping; she is sufficiently confident, after some months, in both her own ability (less rusty than it had been) and his (unlikely to cause a catastrophe in front of an audience). So there is no need to take him as far as she's accustomed to doing for the sake of keeping both their hands in, and anyone nearby the dockside stables can,

if they so desire,

be treated to the unusual sight of Mme de Cedoux, in full skirts and corset but sans her sensible shoes, standing at her full five foot height atop the back of a saddled nuggalope, instructing him apparently by subtle shifts of her weight, and

there is a flurry of skirts. A running leap—and nothing beneath her bare feet but the opportunity that decent people will ignore to get a glimpse of knees and ankles until she lands hard and upright on her mount, beneath her at precisely the right moment, and precisely the right angle.

“Very good.”

Comments

[ipseite]

She is not extravagantly dressed, as finery goes; it would have been beneath her dignity to dress so, once, and at another time again better quality than she could have afforded all her dresses to be. It would not be out of place in the home of a merchant's wife, perhaps, for quiet days — to the experienced eye, it does speak to comfortable if modest means. The fabric is not expensive and the cut is elegantly simple with petticoats to fill out the silhouette she favours and keep her warm, but the pieces are well-made and tailored particularly to fit her. She wears no jewelry save a jet locket at her throat, and her hair is pinned simply enough that she likely did it herself,

but the dress doesn't need to be particularly fine. On another, it might be taken for the relatively plain thing that it is. It is, most of all, the way that Petrana carries herself; it has always been the way that the air shifts around her when she smiles or she frowns.

“There is nothing to forgive,” she says, lightly. “Would that we all erred so kindly; it is hardly a bother to me. Are you newly arrived?”

The question could mean many things, but in this instance only that she hasn't seen him before, and she spends enough time cloistered on the Gallows island that she ought to recognize most of Riftwatch at least as Riftwatch by sight.

[archademode]

"Your instincts do you no injustice, I am indeed."

It is a relief, in some ways, to speak with someone who holds herself well. Who he does not need to strain to comprehend, nor shift himself to alter his own proclivities in any way for the sake of comfort (that he does, of course, is a matter of camaraderie amongst allies, and he'd have it no other way when necessary— but it is exhausting all the same).

"Perhaps it is not my place to ask, but the beast you so favor..."

what is it though

[ipseite]

“He is called the Black Divine,” she says, sinking down into the saddle — sideways, comfortably, though it is clearly not intended for a side seat and likely is not how she rides — to pat his great head. “The animal is nuggalope, or, 'war nug'. I believe the Avvar bred them, originally, though the how of it somewhat beggars belief. I must wonder if they began with the simple nug, or how closely related the two animals truly are.”

This may have raised more questions for Gabranth than it has effectively answered.

“And I am Madame de Cedoux.”