[His eyes grow warm at the edges, silently thankful. But he stays silent, rummaging through his coat to pull out a deep blue pen covered in golden flowers, uncapping it.]
[He'll turn that hand over to write out a name on the surface of her palm.
"YUGAMU"]
They'll be on the lookout for my other pen. [His smile is even as he gestures with the flowered one in his hand. As in: not this one.] Don't halt them if they're insistent on taking it, please. It was by request.
Also: this ink is washable, so don't worry about it staining. [AKA, feel free to get rid of that little note as soon as you want.]
Gather them, regardless. I'd rather have some excuse of "he requested nostalgic memories buried with his roses" or something like that. If it takes eyes off the real purpose, then all the better for it.
I approve of both the scheme and the sentiment attached to it. It'd be better for your memories to stay with above-ground than be surrendered to some fire down below.
Do you have roommates who might be prone to sticky fingers? [She's testing with this question and clearly knows it, but it's precisely worded so he can deflect with his answer.
[She frowns at the statement about his dormmates but pauses only the slightest sliver at the exact names. They both surprise to hear and align exactly with her expectations at the same time.]
I'll make sure of it, and I'll make sure to let you handle the more intricate dances of your épreuves.
[She waves his apologies off as unnecessary, light as spun sugar.]
All things must unfold in time, in the proper order.
[She understands procedure, in a way that unfortunately aligns with linear story progression and thus feels a little close to this particular sun burning hot beneath them. Cantarella goes to rise.]
And necessity breeds many things, though we don't need to agree on all of them. It's best to be prepared.
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I'll keep an eye on your effects. There are many priceless artifacts we're good at keeping in the castle.
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Your hand, please, if you could.
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"YUGAMU"]
They'll be on the lookout for my other pen. [His smile is even as he gestures with the flowered one in his hand. As in: not this one.] Don't halt them if they're insistent on taking it, please. It was by request.
Also: this ink is washable, so don't worry about it staining. [AKA, feel free to get rid of that little note as soon as you want.]
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I see.
[Cantarella brings her hand down and folds it in front of her with the other.]
To clarify, would you like custody of your effects to be split, or am I something of a backup?
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It cannot end up with our Dramaturge. And it cannot end up with Father.
sleepily....tags back just to move this so it's ready IN CASE FRIDAY IS BAD
What about the rest of your effects?
:) what no never
well friday was bad but not like that :(
Do you have roommates who might be prone to sticky fingers? [She's testing with this question and clearly knows it, but it's precisely worded so he can deflect with his answer.
sad trombones
Pinocchio might be slightly sad. But the rest of my roommates could care less about me, to be perfectly honest.
You have nothing to worry about on that front. Just make sure that Fandaniel and Nishi don't go finding it.
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I'll make sure of it, and I'll make sure to let you handle the more intricate dances of your épreuves.
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It's not as though he hasn't tried.]
Don't worry. If it becomes necessary for me to tell you more, I will tell you both.
Right now, I can't. I'm sorry.
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All things must unfold in time, in the proper order.
[She understands procedure, in a way that unfortunately aligns with linear story progression and thus feels a little close to this particular sun burning hot beneath them. Cantarella goes to rise.]
And necessity breeds many things, though we don't need to agree on all of them. It's best to be prepared.
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[He bows his head just slightly from his seat on the ground.]
Thank you for your ear, Cantarella. Until we meet again.