[Open & shut] girls in STEM

[sprent]

WHO: Gela and Iona Baynrac, and guests!
WHAT: Catch-all (closed; one open)
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Many places and new office
NOTES: Chill for now, will update where needed

OUTSIDE THE OFFICE

"Damn—"

That’s the sound of your new head of Diplomacy dropping something out of the already precarious stack in her arms. A sheaf of scrap papers, held together by a good clip, has slithered out of place and is slinking down the stairs behind her as she stands, wavering, trying to decide if she should leave it there and come back — but somebody could slip! — only to have more bits and pieces tumble to the ground when she crouches to snatch for it. "Wait! Wait, stay—"

If somebody would like to give her a hand before everything ends up halfway down the central tower, that would be greatly appreciated.

INSIDE THE OFFICE

The office, the workspace, the living quarters tacked on — she's exploring this new domain, having stacked her things by the open door, ready to push them around to her liking. There is a bit of furniture in here and a small window, which she has opened, though the occasional, sharp sounds from the eyrie above will take some getting used to.

Something else Gela is not used to: having this much room to herself. She seems a little bewildered by this new privilege, welcoming anybody at the door by leaping to her feet and opening it for them, ushering them inside herself.

Don't mind the duck attempting to nest on the tail of a bolt of twill propped up in a corner. She was given a nice box and rejected it.

Comments

CLOSED; for Strange

[sprent]

That the method is called 'stress testing' immediately betrays the nature of it but Gela doesn't have a firm idea of what exactly is going to happen the afternoon she meets Strange. They've moved underground, heading down the stairs, probably because the additional layers of stone will help to mask the sound of... howling. Should it occur.

It might, but Gela is ready. Maker, she is so tired of being ready.

Everything is in place; they have informed the Commander. Strange is the head healer and if anything goes wrong he'll help her, so she has the best person on the case and couldn't really ask for better. Maybe they'll finally find out what her 'trigger' is and she can simply avoid it for the rest of her life as best she can.

And that she hasn't found it after years of living at the Gallows is a small reassurance, but doesn't much help as they descend a little further, right down to the namesake of her home. She clears her throat.

"... I'm not going in one of those, am I?"

CLOSED; for Ennaris

[sprent]

also coming soon

inside.

[cozen]

"She should have a title, too," Bastien says of the duck.

This is not why he came. There are papers in the crook of his arm of sufficient volume to signal something more than small talk about waterfowl on the horizon. He might even sit down, eventually, instead of standing there contemplating. He spent a great deal of time in this room over the years of Byerly's tenure, but here is something he never saw or thought he would see in the space.

"The obvious choice is Ambassaduck, but I think we can do better."

[sprent]

"Don't look at her," Gela says cheerfully, "We're not on speaking terms right now, her and I."

She's standing at the door still, having let Bastien happily in but not knowing whether or not to shut it after him. Does it make everything seem very serious, to shut it? He is carrying papers. She compromises by pushing it closed but not all the way.

"Welcome," she says. "You're my first guest."

inside

[untiltheyarent]

Fifi isn't prepared for the effusiveness of Gela's hospitality when the door comes wrenching open after she's barely knocked: she stands in the doorway with a blindsided, wide-eyed look, tightly clutching her basket. She quickly transitions to a smile, however, as likely intended to reassure Gela as anything else.

"Ambassador," she greets with a little curtsy, "how are you finding your new office?"

[cozen]

A scandal says Bastien's eyebrow raise, and he sneaks — 'sneaks' — another glance at the duck as if she might disclose what it is she's done to cause this rift, but otherwise he complies. First order from the new boss. Better not ignore it.

"First and worst," he says, not meaning it at all. Surely someone worse will be here eventually? Probably even today. "Congratulations on the promotion. If they had asked us to vote — " A concept he has been more enamored with ever since visiting a few worlds where it was not only done but expected. " — I would have voted for you."

outside

[youwonscience]

"Oh shit, hang on —"

Cosima keeps her door open, mostly, whens she's in her office. It means that she can definitely hear Gela futilely ordering the papers to behave, and also that it's a straight shot to come and help. She comes at a little jog, reflecting her presumption that it's not quite an emergency but it is time sensitive.

"Here, I've got you, stay there," as she snakes past to retrieve the papers farthest astray. "Someone's got to invent three-ring binders someday soon, this many loose papers are wild," is mostly to herself, though certainly loud enough to be heard.

CLOSED; for Cedric

[sprent]

"You were only ever in the city, weren't you."

She's carrying a tray toward a little round table that stands between a chair with cushion and a couch, setting it down and adjusting the teapot by its handle so that it points toward him. It's polite. The blend is homemade and that's why it smells like that, the notes of patchouli and cinnamon particularly strong; the two cups alongside, stacked, don't match. "Not in the suburbs."

Do they even stall or table in the city any more? Iona doesn't mention the trade in his letters and Gela doesn't ask.

When she takes a seat it's beside him rather than opposite, to lessen the feel of this being a meeting with the Ambassador and bring it closer to having tea with Gela, which is what it is.

[sprent]

Gela, barely concentrated, ducks her head in a sort of bow that would have been a curtsey if she weren't shuffling something fully out the way of the door. She seems a bit frazzled, her hair already coming loose from its tie.

"Big," she says. "Ignore the mess. And call me Gela. Can I help you?"

[sprent]

Despite this grave missive the duck seems perfectly content, her bill already tucking into her tail feathers, preening quietly as Gela ushers Bastien toward a seat. She's got a strange array in front of her desk: a wooden chair and cushion, and a proper armchair, a couch that sits angled toward the first two.

The 'worst' comment makes her smile. There's always Kostos.

"Thank you! It might have been only me, though, who wanted the job. Which is fine — I'm excited to have it." Feels like a step in the right direction. Feels good.

[untiltheyarent]

The alarming sight of Gela bowing back to her is almost enough to stop Fifi in her tracks, but instead she just laughs, a surprised and awkward but also unexpectedly warm sound.

"I'm," she begins, thrown off, "I came to see how you take your tea or coffee, and if you like your office kept any particular way." Continuing to smile, she adds, "I'll be the one overseeing it."

Glancing around at the clutter, she raises her eyebrows: "Can I help?"

[dissolving]

"Mirror's a ways out," Hour's ride or more from the gates, now there's traffic again. "But we didn't stay long."

The suburbs. The Necropolis, the Circle's ruins, the monastery he couldn’t bring himself to report into: each outlying, little villages unto themselves. Not what she's after.

"They put us up in the Necropolis."

He's schooled his face, which says a little what he thought of that. Cedric fishes the cups from each other. When he lifts to pour, it's hers he fills first (the chipped one — because it looks a smile —), a bit of errant twig slipping out the spout. If the office is new, strange,

Well, it isn't. Not really. Still Gela in the chair, so it must be a fit.

[portalling]

“You are. Unless you’d prefer trying this in public, out in the courtyard, in broad daylight?”

Strange doesn’t mean to sound sharp. It’s mostly his usual baseline level of arch, dry humour; it’s been a trying couple months and the prospect of this experiment isn’t exactly pleasant for either of them, and presumably worse for her, and he doesn’t relish what’s coming.

He leads the way to one of the larger cells: clean, well-lit with torches; no caricature of a dripping wet oubliette with scurrying rats although there are, probably, rats around here somewhere. There are chains attached to the stone walls and some reinforcements on deck outside if he needs to summon help. Strange is confident in his being able to contain one (1) werewolf — there’s magic beneath his fingertips, additional eldritch restraints on the verge of being summoned if necessary — but still, best to tackle this with backup on-call.

“I was going to get you a padded chair,” he says, ruminating, “but comfort might be contrary to our purposes today. What were the conditions like, the last time you recall this happening? If we can, uh, reproduce it as closely as possible —”

He winces a little, saying it.

It’s no surprise they’ve been putting this off.

outside the office.

[mournwitch]

Athénaïs is reasonably confident that the woman in front of her is talking to her papers, but pausing as she alights a step below she says,

“Well, alright,” gamely enough, crouching down to create a barrier to catch them before they get any further down the flights behind them. With her body, but also, yes, an outright barrier of magic, shaped by her hands across the stair not unlike the way she might use it to avoid rather more forceful projectiles than mischievous paperwork.

“Is this confidential? Should I close my eyes whilst I’m picking them up?”

[sprent]

"Overseeing...?"

Gela's tone is vague, her voice trailing off — she's moving something from one place to another. Ah, but the place she was going to put it is occupied with something else, so first she has to move that. This has been her entire day so far. She spits a strand of hair out of her mouth. "Yes please. Can you hold this for a moment?"

'This' is a shut box, only slightly heavy.

[untiltheyarent]

"Cleaning," Fifi clarifies, and steps forward to accept the box, turning her toes out to adjust her balance to its weight.

"--and keeping in order," she adds, glancing about with a questioning look: where does Gela want it?

OPEN; a familiar face

[sprent]

ARRIVAL; FERRY

"Pardon."

The man interrupting is lanky and a little shy, his voice quiet and accented — he gestures toward the ferry and then beyond it, across the water. He looks awkward for having to say anything at all, his weight shifting back and forth on the spot in endless fidget. "Sorry. Is this how I'll find my way across to the uh, 'Gallows'?" I'm meeting Gela Baynrac there."

He's got a letter in one of his hands all folded around to show some certain part, the writing curly. Perhaps the instructions it bears are not as simple as they should be.

NOOSE

Any attempt by Iona to fully explore the Gallows itself is halted instantly by the presence of a dog lingering in the courtyard. Anyone looking will find Iona fully sat down on the cobblestones with both hands on Noose, ruffling up his ears while the dog's tail thumps in slow, happy rhythm behind him. They're both easily pleased. He looks like Gela, a little, perhaps more like their father than he does Gela and their mother. Their eyes are the same shade of brown; while his hair is not long or curly, his eyebrows are thick.

Iona is talking, hushed, asking gentle questions. "D'you have a name, old man?" And, a little later (having given ample time for a reply), "Are you just anybody's dog, ae? Just anybody's dog, huh. You're nice. Gel said there are animals all over the place here."

DINING HALL

After checking who's around (looking for one person in particular but she is, helpfully, nowhere in sight) he leans across the table, careful not to put an elbow in his dinner (the food here's good and plenty, and maybe later he can go back for seconds if it looks like that's a thing you're allowed to do).

Iona keeps his voice low all the same. "How'dyou sign up to be here? What do you have to do?"

dining hall

[altusimperius]

Benedict had been completely absorbed in his (smutty, smutty) novel, barely remembering to take bites of food, and has the look of a man confusedly surfacing for air when his attention is caught by a total stranger.

The mental scan commences: has he onboarded this person, no. Does he know who this person even is, no. Is this person beautiful, yes.

"What?" he says blankly, with a bit of a stupid smile.

[sprent]

"Sorry." A nervous reflex perhaps, especially when coupled with the way his eyes dart briefly around the room again — then he cranes his neck to try and read the title of the book that just fell away from his table companion's face. Hmm. Hard to get it from this angle.

"Um, you work here, don't you? How do I work here?"

[altusimperius]

"Oh."

The book is effectively under the table and stashed, because now it's time for Work Mode: Benedict straightens, clasping his hands in front of him with a self-satisfied little smirk.

"You can talk to me, for one thing," he says cheerfully, "what do you do?"

[sprent]

Oh, okay — Iona sits up straighter too, mimicking him. "Um," he starts.

Pauses. His little smile slips slightly.

"... I'm asking you, aren't I?"

[sprent]

"My hero," is not entirely a joke, as something else has slipped off the top of the pile and fell to the ground while Gela is standing there, hanging on. The little jog is sorely appreciated. She beams as Cosima chases what's escaped down a few stairs.

What's loud enough to be heard is loud enough to comment on. "Three-ring binders?"

Gela is imagining something that you wear... three rings, on each hand, that stick to paper? "It's magic?"

[sprent]

Oh, yes, well. If you're going to use magic best it be for something like this, so Gela's heart only thumps a little quicker the moment she realises what has happened and who she's speaking with. She has not seen Athénaïs before but the accent — it's familiar. Up close and off-crystal she is short, elven and her hair is dark purple, pretty, long. Gela, realising she's staring, blurts out, "Yes."

And then, "I mean — no, they aren't important." They are, "It's fine. Thank you, they can go right here," on the top of the stack again.

[sprent]

Gela gestures with her chin in a direction.

"You don't have to clean in here," is sort of a funny thing to say when the place is a complete tip. Noticing the irony only serves to make her stop and laugh at herself for a moment, before she thunks a box down onto her desk. "It'll be in order soon, I promise. But thank you."

[youwonscience]

"No, not at all, actually." She comes back up with the errant papers. "It's, um... OK so imagine a bound book, right, but instead of paper inside there's three metal rings. And you can pop them open and closed, but it takes some force so it doesn't happen by accident. And if you punch holes in the edge of papers, you can basically bind them temporarily. Really handy for lists and files and things it doesn't make sense to bind permanently."

She smiles and adds, "In the absence of those, though, more hands?"