faderift | [Open & shut] girls in STEM

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.

Threaded | Flat

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?"

Edited 2025-04-14 00:59 (UTC)

also coming soon

"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."

Edited (incomplete editing... my nemesis) 2025-04-08 03:30 (UTC)

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?"

"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.

"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.

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?”

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?"

CLOSED; for Strange

CLOSED; for Ennaris

inside.

inside

outside

CLOSED; for Cedric

outside the office.

OPEN; a familiar face