[Closed] Come As You Are

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 39, 2720
Georgie's Apartment, Uptown

Chrysanthe was utterly embarrassed, in the end, by how long she had spent in front of the mirror. It was not, for once, her hair; one of the very best parts of having short hair, Chrysanthe felt, was that she only had to bathe and then to brush it out and it was practically already dry. She could nearly have screamed when she thought of all the hours she’d spent sitting with it loose over her shoulders with her back to the fire, reading and waiting for it to dry.

Then again, Chrysanthe thought, more practically and a little more wryly, it had been an excellent excuse when she hadn’t wanted to go out – and most of those books she had enjoyed thoroughly. There were, really, very few books she didn’t enjoy thoroughly.

No, the problem tonight was her clothing.

Georgie, Chrysanthe thought despairingly, was lovely, and an artist. She had every assurance that the other woman would look absolutely lovely for their date. She, herself, had not in the least idea what to wear. She knew she must have had clothing she liked at some point – she remembered dressing up for days in Muffey or the Stacks at Brunnhold, and remembered even being pleased those days she had not had to wear her uniform. In Gior, naturally, she had dressed largely for warmth, and since she dressed mostly for practicality.

Skirt suits were eminently practical. Most practical of all, in fact, Chrysanthe thought, would have been trousers, but that was a secret desire harbored in her heart which she was not quite ready to voice; her hair was scandalous enough. Skirt suits were practical and comfortable, and she owned several, neatly tailored, in grays and browns, and a variety of fabrics. Some were plainer and simpler, well-suited for factory work and not so expensive that an accident would be ruinous; others were fancier and more elegant, for society meetings or nights out with a friend, when she liked the idea of brown silk instead of brown linen.

And yet, looking at herself in the stand mirror in the corner of her rented room, Chrysanthe felt – dull, she thought, her lips pressed together. Dull and drab. The gray skirt was one of her nicest, neatly tailored at her waist, and the white shirt beneath her jacket was crisply pressed. She had brighter dresses, the sort Amaryllis favored for her – colorful or floral or girlish or sometimes all three. They did not quite feel like her either, not tonight. She’d had one on, a pink sort of confection with many more flounces than she’d remembered, and she’d felt oddly like a bit of tissue paper crumpled up and shoved in a box. She’d certainly sounded like it.

With a sigh, Chrysanthe pulled off the suit jacket, and hung it up once more. She glanced at herself in the mirror. The white shirt was a bit too plain, she thought, worriedly, smoothing at it; now she simply looked as if she’d forgotten her jacket. She glanced at her watch, and grimaced, her lips tight; if she took any longer, Chrysanthe thought, she would be late.

She turned back to her closet, searching, as if some new inspiration might present itself.

Then, it did.

The floral-patterned pink top was designed for a wide, flowing, frothing gold skirt that Chrysanthe could never quite stand; but, Chrysanthe thought, seeing it with new eyes, it looked well on its own, and she didn’t have to wear the gold skirt. She took it down and changed into the brown silk skirt which she anyway liked better; she pulled the top of the dress on like a blouse and tucked it in at the waist, buttoning the skirt up and smoothing it into place. She glanced at herself in the mirror, hopeful; with the full sleeves of the top, Chrysanthe thought, she didn’t look underdressed – and she didn’t either, she thought, look like she was trying very hard to be someone she wasn’t.

Chrysanthe took a deep breath, dragged her brush through her hair one last time, grabbed her bag, and fled down the stairs and out of the boarding house, pulling her warm coat over her shoulders as she went. She came to the stop just as one of the public coaches went past; she climbed on, settled herself in, and tried not to think too much about – well – any of it.

It was just shy of twenty three o’clock, the sun setting outside and spilling vivid sunset color over the horizon, when Chrysanthe knocked at Georgie’s door. She took a deep breath, pulling back slightly, and smiled; the smile warmed when Georgie answered, brightening her face. “Good evening,” Chrysanthe said, looking at the other woman, and couldn’t quite seem to do anything but smile a bit more.

[Georgianna Morgenstern]

Bethas 39, 2720
Georgie's flat, 23 o'clock.

Georgianna had lost track of time.

She had returned home from the studio and several assorted errands around 18 o'clock. She had no other engagements for the day aside from Chrysanthe coming to collect her at 23, and so she had thought to spend the time between getting home and when she would need to get ready working on a few charcoal pieces. Charcoal was a messy medium, but she did enjoy it. She had been making good progress, and gotten absorbed in her work. Too absorbed, ultimately. It wasn't until it had begun to get darker in her flat as the sun sank away towards the horizon that she realized how late it was. Checking her wristwatch sent her stomach into her shoes: it was twenty-two thirty already. She had gone from having a few hours to a mere thirty minutes.

She leapt to her feet and hastily tucked the charcoal away, hurrying over to her washbasin. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above it as she did, noticing that, much to her dismay, she looked more like a coal miner than someone about to go out to dinner. There were black smudges on her face, and her hands were filthy as well. She washed quickly, doing her best to excavate the charcoal dust from her fingernails before rushing to her wardrobe. Luckily, she'd had the presence of mind to pick out her outfit the day before, and it was hanging on the door ready for her. An emerald green satin dress she was rather fond of. It was a nice dress, but not too much for dinner and a night out with a friend.

A friend, she thought, that she had spent the better part of two days thinking about. A friend she had kissed, a friend she would still very much like to kiss again. She didn't quite have time to spend thinking about that at this particular moment, as she struggled for a bit to latch a particularly stubborn button. She managed at last, standing in front of her mirror and smoothing the dress out. Satisfied, she moved on to her hair. That, she felt, didn’t need much work. She had put it half-up in Bastian braids that morning to keep it out of her way as she worked, and it had thankfully behaved rather well. Some small adjustments and a brush pulled through the part that was still down, and she was satisfied that she looked presentable enough. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, as there was a knock at her door the second she set her brush back down on her vanity.

She stood, and spared one last look at herself in her mirror. No charcoal on her face or in her hair, her makeup still looked fine, the dress fit well and was rather flattering. She felt butterflies surge in her stomach as she moved to answer the door. It was ridiculous, really, to be nervous, and yet she was quite so. She told herself there was nothing to be nervous about. It was only dinner. She opened the door and was greeted by Chrysanthe, a warm, bright smile on her face and her golden hair shining. Georgie couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Good evening!” she replied brightly, opening the door further and standing aside to allow Chrysanthe to come in. “I just need to get my coat, I’ll only be a moment.”

She closed the door behind Chrysanthe and moved to retrieve her coat from where it hung on a hook nearby. "You look lovely," she said, pulling it on and buttoning it up, freeing her long red hair from the collar in a cascade of curls. She turned to face Chrysanthe, smiling still. "Shall we, then? I'll admit I'm a bit excited to find out where it is we're going."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 39, 2720
Georgie's Apartment, Uptown

Georgie was smiling as she opened the door; she looked, Chrysanthe thought, lovely, all emerald green satin and her hair a mix of the loops of delicate braids and her own curls. Wild, Chrysanthe thought, a little amused with herself, and uncontained, and very much Georgie. The emerald satin – in addition to looking lovely against Georgie’s coloring – left Chrysanthe thoroughly glad she’d gone with the nicer top; the gleaming fabric against her skirt with the plainer white would, Chrysanthe felt, have made her look like a secretary out with a socialite.

“You do too,” Chrysanthe said, smiling, all Georgie’s hair tumbling out over her collar. I haven’t seen so dressed up, she half wanted to say, but it sounded like a criticism, and she didn’t mean it that way. It was true – she hadn’t – but it was true too that the dress was entirely appropriate for the occasion. “It’s a beautiful color for you,” Chrysanthe said, instead, letting her gaze stray down for a moment before it lifted back to Georgie’s face, the tiniest of indulgences. She was smiling.

“Yes, of course,” Chrysanthe said. Idle fantasies of skipping dinner were only that: idle fantasies, scarcely worth a moment or two of attention before Chrysanthe let them go. Georgie had made it very clear that she intended things to go a proper sort of order, and Chrysanthe really did agree; it was a date with Georgie she had come for, no more and no less.

All the same, there was a moment, looking ever so slightly up at the other woman, when Chrysanthe thought of –

Well. It didn’t matter. She could feel a faint flush of heat on her cheeks and the back of her neck, and without her quite meaning them to, her teeth were worrying softly at her bottom lip.

“I’ll leave our destination a surprise for now,” Chrysanthe said instead, grinning at Georgie, running her tongue just once, reflexively, over her bottom lip; at least, she thought chidingly at herself, she wasn’t playing with her hair. She utterly reused to develop such a habit, and thus far had been entirely successful in its avoidance. “Would you rather walk or take a carriage?” I was a cloudy night - had been a cloudy day - and not quite warm but there was, at least, no rain to speak of. She moved to open the other woman’s door, retreating just a little from their closeness, and the clean, ever so slightly soapy smell of the other woman, though she did so stepping backwards, rather than by turning to face it.

Chrysanthe did, at least, hope – rather intently – that Georgie would like the place she’d chosen; she’d spent a good deal of time thinking about the date, and about the restaurant, these last few days. Most of it had been her own to give; some of it, a little unfortunately, had been time during work hours, but she didn’t think anyone had noticed, or that the quality of her work had suffered too terribly. It was something of a blessing from the Circle that she hadn’t had anything too intense to do, and she’d only had to go in a few hours that morning. She really did need to stop working on nines, Chrysanthe thought, but there always seemed to be so much to get done.

[Georgianna Morgenstern]

Bethas 39, 2720
En route to dinner, Uptown, evening.

She had caught the very deliberate once-over Chrysanthe had given her. It was hard to miss. She felt the smallest bit self-conscious as the woman's eyes scanned her dress and her figure. She wasn't sure why, she already had it on good authority that Chrysanthe liked what she saw. Regardless, she tried very hard to will herself not to blush. She also tried very hard to keep her mind off of what Chrysanthe had on under that coat. The idea of skipping dinner and staying in, of finding out for herself, did occur to her, but it was quickly pushed aside, even as she caught Chrysanthe chewing her lip and wondered if she, too, had the same idea.

It didn't matter, Georgie told herself, they were going to dinner. She had already decided days ago — they both had, really — to take things slowly. Moreover, Chrysanthe had gone to the trouble of choosing a place she thought Georgie would enjoy, and Georgie wanted to see it. She had seen so little of the city so far, it would be nice to see more of it in the company of such a charming and beautiful friend. And se was a bit hungry, besides. She laughed lightly as Chrysanthe insisted on keeping their destination a secret for the time being, walking past her out the door. She turned to lock it once Chrysanthe had followed her out and closed it behind them.

A walk or a cab was a very good question. The weather had held out all day. It was a bit chilly, with a very light breeze that had failed to shift the clouds that had settled over the city for the day. She had spent a great deal of time so far today seated on various stools, either in studios or in her flat, and it really was rather a nice day, clouds aside.

"Is it very far?" she asked as they made their way down to the street, "A walk might be nice. I've spent rather a lot of time sitting today, I think it would do me good."

She cast a glance up at the cloudy sky, her brow furrowing slightly. "I only hope it doesn't decide to start raining. I don't think it was supposed to, but you never know."

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 39, 2720
Various Streets, Uptown

Chrysanthe turned and smiled at Georgie. “It’s not so far - a half hour’s walk, perhaps a little more?” She followed the other woman’s gaze up to the sky, adjusting her coat a little.

“I hope so too,” Chrysanthe said ruefully. “It’s a shame weather forecasting seems so underdeveloped, when it comes to quantitative casting. I’ve heard it said that even an hour out is nearly impossible, or rather it all comes down to probabilities and the like. Still, how funny that we can ask the mona about a planet which is no more than a distant twinkle, and not whether it shall rain in two hours.”

For a moment, they both stood on the sidewalk. “Let’s chance it,” Chrysanthe said, then, smiling, with a last glance at the dimming sky, faintly gray hued amidst the color. “Perhaps the Circle will favor us, and I like the idea of a walk as well.”

They set off; they were both long-legged, at least, for galdori, and Chrysanthe thought it wouldn’t take too long. She liked, as well, something of the idea of walking with Georgie. Perhaps it was silly; one did and often could have quite cozy, comfortable carriage rides. Public carriages were always a bit of a toss up, though, and, strangely, Chrysanthe felt walking together on the street seemed more intimate.

I hope you’ll like it, she wanted to say, thinking of the cafe and the Hessean photography exhibit which awaited them; she bit her tongue metaphorically instead. It would, Chrysanthe felt, rather spoil it to explain the whole thing ahead; best, she felt, instead, to let them get there and see it, and then she could explain.

“How have you been?” Chrysanthe asked; she glanced sideways at Georgie with a little smile, warm and friendly and - if not quite shy, not so far from it either. She shifted on the sidewalk, out of the way of a passing man; it brought her close enough to Georgie that her hand brushed the hem of the other woman’s coat.

The streets were busy enough at this hour, bustling with quiet evening life. There was the smell of food here and drink there, noisy chatter from a group of young men lingering and smoking cigarettes outside of a bar, rapid conversation at a greengrocers as a man and a woman argued over reduced end of day prices. Chrysanthe felt, despite it all, that she really only had eyes for Georgie.

Naturally it had only been a few days since they had last seen each other. Chrysanthe thought of saying it - of a half laugh, of saying it had only been such a short time, after all. She had been the one who proposed the date tonight, and she didn’t regret it; she had wanted to be sure of seeing Georgie again before anything else came up, and with St. Grumbles approaching it was sure to be a busy week. So she didn’t make a fuss of it, not again; she only asked.

[Georgianna Morgenstern]

Bethas 39, 2720
En route to dinner, Uptown, evening.

Georgie smiled and nodded as they set off. Chancing the walk seemed like a good plan. It felt nice to be up and moving, having spent so much time so far sitting down. First in her figure drawing class, then her studio time, and then again when she arrived home. The city streets were lively this time of day, the usual evening hustle and bustle of people going out to dinner, or grabbing a few last minute items from the shops, or even just enjoying the cool weather.

“It is rather strange that magic is so bad at predicting weather,” Georgie replied, “there must be a way, though. Surely the conditions that lead to rain or snow aren’t random. Maybe there’s some scientific method to it that we simply haven’t discovered yet.”

Not that she knew much about science herself. That had always been Baz’s wheelhouse. And Chrysanthe’s, too, she supposed. She recalled that they had met in their chemistry class, and had ended up in many of the same science classes in the years following. She wondered idly where their relationship might be if she had become closer with Chrysanthe back then, but something told her that it was better that they were here at this stage in their lives, when they both knew more or less what they wanted.

Chrysanthe asked how she had been, and a smile spread over her face. It had, of course, only been two days. She was much the same as she had been the day she invited Chrysanthe to her flat, not much had changed. She didn’t rebuff the question, though.

“I’ve been well,” she replied, “quite well, actually. It was sunny yesterday, so I was able to do a bit more work on my painting. The one you saw when you came over. The sunset last evening was beautiful, and I’m really quite happy with what I managed to get done.”

They were forced closer as they passed by a few others out for a walk, now walking with their shoulders almost touching. She felt Chrysanthe’s hand brush against her coat. She thought for a moment, and then took the other woman’s hand in her own, her cheeks colouring ever so slightly. Really, there was no need to be coy. They were on a date, after all.

“And you?” she asked, “how are things at the factories?”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 39, 2720
Various Streets, Uptown

Georgie smiled at Chrysanthe’s question, and Chrysanthe smiled too, feeling increasingly sheepish. There wasn’t anything cruel in Georgie’s smile though, far from it, and if it was teasing, it was teasing in the sort of warm, friendly way that Chrysanthe, as an adult, could appreciate quite well, for all she had been rather on the sensitive side with regard to such remarks as a girl.

And, not terribly surprisingly, Georgie answered without anything like a rebuke, not so much as mentioning that, really, very little time had passed in which anything might have changed. “Oh, lovely,” Chrysanthe said, encouragingly, when Georgie mentioned having worked on her painting the day before. “It does seem difficult to be so dependent on the light.”

She might have said something else; she was sure she had meant to, and the brush of Georgie’s shoulder against her own was not so distracting as to knock aside the tracks of her thoughts. The other woman’s hand in hers, though, was.

Georgie’s hand was soft and warm. In the dim phosphor light, when she glanced over, Chrysanthe could see the faint wash of color on the other woman’s cheeks. It was her turn to grin, just a little, this time the one teasing rather than the recipient of it. Just as Georgie had answered her question unhesitatingly, her fingers had slipped between the other woman’s, and she was more than comfortable walking with Georgie’s hand in hers.

More than comfortable, Chrysanthe thought, thoroughly aware of the butterflies in her stomach, and the warmth there too. They had held hands a few nights ago – tighter than this, even, Chrysanthe thought, sitting next to one another in Georgie’s apartment, and she thought Georgie had been as aware of their points of contact as she had, even before they kissed.

“Nothing too exciting,” Chrysanthe said with a smile. “I’ve been thinking about some refinements of our quality verification process; we use a mix of physical procedures, and static spells with a sort of quantitative bent. I’ve had a bit of a backlog to get through, and it’s made me think about whether the process could be made more efficient. I’m not sure I’ll propose anything just at the moment.”

Chrysanthe went in silence for a moment, but for a “This way,” at which she and Georgie turned onto another large cross-street. She went on, then, quietly. “It looks I’ll be going to the Rose for a few weeks after St. Grumbles,” Chrysanthe said, glancing at Georgie out of the corner of her eye. There was, she thought, too much history and weight to explain just then; she couldn’t see herself bringing up the whole of it on the midst of their first date.

“I think I’m likely to be splitting my time between Vienda and the Rose for a little while, at least,” Chrysanthe said. Her smile was a little wan, just then, regretful; the assignment in the Rose was still a bitter pill, for no matter what was said about responsibility, Chrysanthe knew it for what it was: a means of keeping her out of Vienda. All the same, she had a job, still, and she supposed she should be grateful for that.

“I’m overseeing a large project for quality improvements there,” Chrysanthe added, and smiled a bit more; she was proud of the work, she thought, almost fiercely; it was good work, and she had every right to be proud of it.

[Georgianna Morgenstern]

Bethas 39, 2720
Uptown, en route to dinner, evening.

She had been worried for a second that Chrysanthe would pull her hand away. It seemed silly now, with their fingers entwined as they walked. She found it hard to focus on anything other than the feeling of it for a moment. They had held hands before, but this felt different, walking hand in hand down the street, pressed close as they passed by other people out and about. Chrysanthe said something about light, and Georgie had to pull herself back to the conversation.

“It’s my own fault for picking sunset to paint a landscape,” she said, a bit ruefully, “usually it’s not such a problem.”

She listened as Chrysanthe described what she had been working on. She didn’t know much about glass production, least of all flat glass. She could imagine quality would be very important in such things. Having to oversee and manage the quality of product for an entire factory would take some time as well, and it was understandable to want a way to streamline the process, especially if it involved spellcasting as well as physical tests. Georgie gave her hand a little squeeze.

“If you’re as clever as I remember you being, I’m sure you can come up with something,” she replied encouragingly.

They walked in silence for a little bit, turning on to another large street. They passed the usual hustle and bustle of end-of-day shoppers and others out for a stroll or on their way to dinner. Georgie found herself trying to pick out where it was they were heading, despite not being entirely familiar with the area. Chrysanthe spoke again, mentioning she’d be going to the Rose after St. Grumble’s. Georgie had almost forgotten it was almost time for the feast, with everything that had been going on.

There was a bit of an edge as Chrysanthe explained that she’d likely be splitting her time between Vienda and the Rose for a while. Maybe a touch of bitterness. Georgie thought to ask after it, but it was gone when she mentioned the project she was overseeing. Her demeanor lit up a bit more. Her smile grew, and Georgie found herself smiling as well.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, “I hope it goes well. Do you think you’ll be seeing Baz while you’re there? You’ll have to pass along my love, if you do.”

A small frown creased her brow as she continued. “I really should go and visit him. I’ve been so busy with my studies, and he has his work… I sent him a letter yesterday, I’m hoping we can work something out soon.”

[Chrysanthe Palmifer]

Evening, Bethas 39, 2720
Various Streets, Uptown

If she’d seemed sour, Chrysanthe supposed, it hadn’t been too terrible; the last thing she wanted to spend time doing on this date with Georgie was complaining about work. The other woman moved past it, if she’d picked up the hints in Chrysanthe’s tone at all, and congratulated her on the responsibility.

Chrysanthe smiled at her. “I hope to, yes,” she said, smiling, when Georgie mentioned Baz. She laughed, then, just a little. “Of course,” she said.

If we’re in the Rose at the same time, Chrysanthe thought to mention – naturally, I don’t know the city as well as Baz, she could have said, but all the same I should be quite happy to… slow down, she cautioned herself. It was their first date, and only a few minutes in to it; no matter how fondly she remembered Georgie from school, and no matter how fondly she thought of the kisses they’d exchanged a few nights earlier, Chrysanthe didn’t think it wise to get too far ahead of herself.

“I rather like it as a city,” Chrysanthe said. “Have you spent very much time in the Dives?” She knew the question was provocative when she asked it; she wouldn’t have dared with most of Amaryllis’s set, although even as she thought it, she supposed Niccolette Ibutatu was rather an exception – though, Chrysanthe amended, she thought it unlikely she’d ask Niccolette, but for rather different reasons. “The Pargeter factory is in the Dives,” Chrysanthe explained, with a little smile, “so I – oh, this way – have spent some time there, these last years.”

They had turned again, off the main road finally; it wasn’t, Chrysanthe thought, so far from here; that was rather a relief, as the tip of her nose was starting to feel rather cold. The Dives, and her presence there, had been rather a point of contention with her sister. Amaryllis had worried, at least at first, though she hadn’t mentioned it in some time. Chrysanthe never had, really, not after Gior; if anything, she rather liked them, maybe even more than she did the strange, polished veneer of Uptown. There was something, Chrysanthe thought, brutally honest about the Dives; she supposed leading with that, however, was rather pushing it for a first date.

“Anyway, there are parts of the Rose that are rather nice – lovely houses on the wharf front and all, and none of the smell that you get in the worst of the Dives. But there’s something similar about them all the same,” Chrysanthe said, smiling at Georgie. “That’s a recommendation,” she grinned, suddenly, almost-laughter thick in her voice, “in case you couldn’t tell.”

The street around them was quiet, now, not an alleyway, but not thick with carriages and moa either. There was a small tailor shutting down his shop; next door, an elegant plate glass window showed a display of antique furniture, and a red-headed man behind the counter glanced up as they passed, light gleaming off his gold-rimmed glasses.

The street lights here were phosphor, for the most part; there was a golden hue cast down over the walk. Chrysanthe’s hand was still tucked into Georgie’s, and they were close enough to brush shoulders, though only just.

[Georgianna Morgenstern]

Bethas 39, 2720
En route to dinner, Uptown, evening.

Georgie was happy to just listen to Chrysanthe talk as they walked. About the factory, the Dives, how alike parts of those areas were similar to the Harbour. She really had a lovely voice. A smile crossed Georgie's face as Chrysanthe asserted that all the things she had said were a recommendation. Georgie thought to ask if she meant the Dives or the Harbour, but she assumed both were a safe bet, and the Dives were a more likely answer if she had to think about it. She supposed some people would have been put off by Chrysanthe extoling the virtues of the areas of the city that were thought to be more dirty, or dangerous, or run-down, but Georgie was not such a person. She had often considered just wandering around, and had been meaning to set aside time to better explore her new home.

“I'll keep that in mind. I haven’t really done much exploring at all, really,” Georgie admitted, perhaps a bit bashfully. “I’m worried I’ll get myself lost if I go off wandering on my own. It’s silly, really. I know where I’d need to get back to and there are cabs and omnibuses that cover most of the city, but it’s still very large and unfamiliar.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I should talk one of my cousins into going off on an adventure with me next time they’re in town,” she suggested, “Ferdie likely knows all sorts of interesting places. He was always up to no good when we were younger, I doubt that’s changed.”

She found herself paying attention to the stores and other things they passed as they walked. This part of the city wasn’t too far from her rooms, and there were a number of interesting things to see. The furniture shop caught her attention. Her room was still a bit bare. Most of the furniture had been included, as well, and she had considered going out and looking for something that was more her taste in order to brighten up the place and make it feel a bit more like home. She made particular note of the name, and roughly how far they had come from her building, and made a determined note to come back on another day and browse a bit more thoroughly. She caught the gaze of the shopkeep as they passed, and offered a pleasant smile before turning her attention back to Chrysanthe.

“Will you tell me where we’re going yet?” she asked, her tone playful.