[Closed] Best of Intentions (Aura)

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 10, Midday
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

Niamh was beginning to forget herself a little — she was forgetting to be quite so nervous and self-conscious. The young woman was being pulled into conversation, some familiarity with the subject and the spirit of academic discussion injecting more passion into Niamh than Aurelie had previously seen, except when her temper had flared of course. It meant that the passive had a chance to see the eldest Madden come somewhat out of her shell, more willing to offer her thoughts on things and forgetting that they had very particular business and that ideally, it shouldn’t take all day.

At the mention of diablerie, Aurelie perked up somewhat, a question rising to her lips that sounded as if it had something to do with Fionn—until she cut it off abruptly. It was something that she made a note of, intending to come back to it when a suitable moment arose. She could feel some sympathy for the servant though, the gravity on her expression understandable. Niamh suspected that most passives lived in dread of what their diablerie might be and when—if ever—it would appear. No one knew when to expect a diablerie to go off as no one knew what actually prompted their occurrence. Although surely, passives couldn’t be paranoid about such things all the time; they’d go mad worrying about it constantly.

Evidently, it was something that concerned Aurelie, all the more so because she didn’t know what hers was and didn’t know she was capable of. Not all diableries were dangerous but those that manifested often were, and occasionally they were lethal to the passive and those in their vicinity. One such diablerie had made an appearance back in Ophus and the passive it had come from hadn’t stood a chance—neither had those closest to him at the time.

“That would be... something.”

Her response to passives being special was neutral and non-committal, which Niamh took to mean that Aurelie didn’t think it likely. Or was it less about passives in general and something more personal at work here? Did she feel as if she couldn’t be special? She’d seen Fionn oscillate between believing feeling as if he was potentially special and being sceptical because while other passives might be special, he couldn’t be. He found it hard to reconcile those things, found it hard to accept that he might be truly a part of the larger passive group, given that the boy struggled with his own self-worth. Thinking that passives might actually not be broken didn’t quite suit him, not when he liked to think of himself as broken beyond repair.

Aurelie seemed well-adjusted — by passive standards — and so it was difficult to believe that she could follow a similar line of thinking. Then again, it was clear that she already shared many things with Niamh’s brother, many behaviours she’d displayed to day uncannily familiar to the Madden daughter. So maybe she didn’t feel worthy of the title of special, or more the prospect of being counted among the best of galdori.

That was something else that she’d have to discuss with the passive as well. Although perhaps it wasn’t her place. Perhaps anything she said would sound like false platitudes and it’d make the girl hate her for it. After all, what could she possibly know from her place of privilege?

She thought about her home situation and the fiancé that had been thrust upon her; Niamh was inclined to argue that she wasn’t as privileged as people thought she was, especially when she was edging closer and closer to getting herself disowned. The eldest Madden wasn’t going to bring that up though. This wasn’t the time to air her own issues.

Especially not when her companion inadvertently blurted out things that she probably hadn’t intended—about Fionn. Her feelings had been amply confirmed and that meant that her presence around Niamh’s brother could be… problematic. The boy quite liked her as well and when two people liked each other, there could be trouble. Then again, when two people were determined to be with each other, there was usually very little that you could do about it. And the middle Madden could get into all sorts of trouble; he was very creative in that area. If they were under the watchful eye of galdori—well, Niamh because the professors couldn’t be counted on with one largely absent and the other absentminded—then surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

It couldn’t be that bad… right?

“Well… you’re probably better off helping instead of… keeping away. I could say that you shouldn’t come to the lab because you’ll encounter my brother, which could be- I feel that he’ll be less distracted with you around. Less trouble as well,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks warm as she smiled wryly. Maybe there was something conspiratorial in her gaze for a moment.

“I’m sure that you’d find another way so if you’re going to see each other—I don’t know that I entirely… but- At least you can be productive. Uh… by which I mean um… you can help. It might not seem as if you’re helping but- The research might seem strange to you but your participation would be invaluable. So many passives are made… uncomfortable by being here and not understanding why. Fionn appears all the time and Lars… comes largely for his own reasons,” Niamh explained.

She set her cup aside, placing her hands neatly in her lap then found one fluttering up to her hair to tuck it back.

“The professors are trying to map what the nexus is and how different conditions might affect it. At present, you’d be asked to carry out different tasks, different sorts of physical activity and be observed, often with magic. It won’t hurt you or interfere with you but it will allow us to gain insight into nexi and from there we can learn what you can do, learn about the diableries and why they happen, what triggers them, if they can be controlled and so on.”

She paused, considering the matter of the diablerie for a moment before approaching the matter with delicacy and—she hoped—sympathy.

“No one will try to purposely trigger your diablerie or anything, you won’t be in any danger and neither will others. I imagine in time that the research will reach that point—trying to cause diablerie to manifest—but that would be done with passives who have had them, ones that we know aren’t too… destructive. Like my brother. He’s had his and we have some idea what it is so that’s valuable, I think. But not knowing what yours is makes you no less important, Aurelie.”

Her hazel gaze was intent on the other’s face, the hopefulness present in both her expression and her field.

“Does that sound like something you’d like to do? Obviously I’m not the best messenger but if you’re interested, really interested then somRome else can talk to you about it. Someone who understands more. One of the professors if you want to understand the technical side of things or… Fionn. For the passive side.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Niamh's confidence in their ingenuity was almost touching. Aurelie privately was less certain, and was accordingly relieved to hear that she wouldn't be asked to stay away, after all. Rule-breaking had never been one of her specialties. That she had even done this much was nothing short of a miracle. The almost conspiratorial gleam in Niamh's eyes as she smiled at Aurelie surprised the passive into smiling back.

So she could be of use after all! That, too, was a relief--she hadn't been certain, had almost decided that Niamh would explain what they needed and it wouldn't be something she could provide. But just--just doing what she was asked? That she could do, surely. Many things made her uncomfortable, and she did them anyway. This, at least, seemed like something she could do because she wanted to. Wanting something at all felt like an indulgence by itself; Aurelie would put up with discomfort and strangeness to have that.

Discomfort, and--maybe no small measure of fear, as well. The idea that the research could be trying to trigger diablerie... Somehow she hadn't considered this before, though it made sense--how was one to study something you never saw? Though Niamh's attempt at delicacy radiated through her words, Aurelie was still troubled. Could they be controlled...? Fionn had suggested the same, and she'd dismissed the idea at the time out of hand. Now? A small seed of something like hope planted itself in her. Aurelie didn't have any confidence or even desire that she would prove to be special or powerful--but if diablerie could be controlled...! If even that measure of fear could be taken from her... Oh, she would do anything for that.

"Oh! Yes, I--of course I would be happy to help. You've been--please don't worry," she assured, "you've, ah, given me a lot to think about. I would like to talk to, er. Someone. If... if I should." That she would prefer to speak to someone she already knew and not one of the professors of rumor and reputation was likely obvious. Aurelie didn't feel like she needed to add more to the pile of foolish words that had come out of her mouth by saying so plainly. It was likely her face gave her away.

With things feeling more settled, at least to her, Aurelie became increasingly aware of the passage of time. How long had she been...? Well, this time it was fine--she hadn't snuck away, after all, and could hardly get into any trouble doing what she was told. More than a fear of punishment, Aurelie felt the pressing weight of responsibility. The longer she stayed, the more work others would have to do in her place.

"This has been... Thank you for explaining and... For--" For not writing me off after I berated you, she almost added, but managed to stop just in time. "Did, er--was there... anything else you wanted me to know or...?"

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 10, Midday
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

The student let out a sigh of relief, smiling gratefully. She hadn’t put Aurelie off. She’d talked things through and hadn’t frightened her away as she’d feared that she might. If she’d managed to keep her interested up to this point then there was a high chance that she’d actually end up participating in the research. Harper would be so pleased, especially if she really was willing to make a proper commitment. Every passive involved provided the research with more test data, greater chance for corroboration of results, a better chance of spotting patterns and forming theories and all manner of other valuable things. It would all have to be recorded of course and the more that there was to record, the more evidence there was to provide important sceptics with. Ultimately, the research would have to be presented to others after all, many of whom wouldn’t like the direction that it was going in.

That day was likely a long way off but it was important to consider the future.

She might have been beaming a little, quietly pleased with how things had turned out in spite of the awkwardness, in spite of the accidental offence caused, in spite of raised tempers and accidental upsets. It meant that Niamh wasn’t a total failure after all and she’d managed to sort something that Fionn had failed to do—despite what he’d said. What was more, she was hopeful that she’d managed to connect with the servant on a personal level. She wasn’t as condescending as her brother liked to suggest that she was around passives. Although… maybe she hadn’t managed it. Did Aurelie still seem a little wary of her? Well… more than a little.

The servant would like to talk to someone. Understandable but still painful—she hadn’t fully succeeded after all. She’d expected that though; Niamh didn’t have all the answers after all.

“Yes, I… can arrange that. Depending on who you want to talk to- You can talk to whoever you want but obviously some meetings would be trickier to arrange than others. Until you’ve had the necessary conversations, we can’t officially schedule some of your hours for being here although I’m sure I can have you pulled away,” she explained matter-of-factly.

Her manner was more professional now, no anxiety in her voice. ”If you wish to see the professors then Professor Moore would be easier to access than Professor Devlin—Devlin is a Magister so he has additional concerns—but Harp-Moore is still busy. He’d be happy to arrange time, I’ve no doubt. If you want to talk to Fionn… then that can be arranged as well. It would take place here so that people wouldn’t- You’d be less likely to- You won’t get in trouble then,” she finished awkwardly. The professional manner of the eldest Madden had broken down now, hands returning to that nervous tuck of her hair.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of facilitating such a meeting because it felt like a direct violation of sacred tenets where passives were concerned. But wasn’t upholding such tenets hypocritical? Could she really say that they were no lesser than galdori if she felt that they had to be watched and couldn’t be trusted with members of the other sex? Propriety did dictate that a young woman shouldn’t be alone with a man who wasn’t a relative, especially where others couldn’t see her so it wasn’t as if there was a rule for passives and a different one for everybody else. That being said, she did think such things ridiculous and outdated. Admittedly, the only man she spent time alone with was Harper Moore.

And you certainly can’t be trusted alone with him, can you? a nasty inner voice offered snidely. Her face grew hot, the young woman avoiding catching Aurelie’s eye.

She was a hypocrite but she didn’t have to be.

“I understand if you want to just talk to Fionn, especially as he understands things from your point of view—better than any galdor ever could; we can only imagine. I’m sure the conversation would be easier as well. You’re both… remarkably alike actually, it’s quite uncanny,” the final year girl commented, wonder in her voice as hazel eyes slowly rose to consider her again, jammed open wide.

“If you do talk to him, I won’t i-i-interfere. You have my word. I’ll just s-step out. I’m not going to sit and supervise. I know that you like each other, I’m not unaware what can happen but I’m not going to assume that you’ll take every opportunity alone to be- to get up to- to fornicate! It’s not- I don’t want you to think- It’s not because you’re passives, I have issue with anyone- Men are expected to have what they wish but it’s not proper for women- Respectable women aren’t meant to… to want.”

She squirmed and there was a ripple of feeling in her field, not embarrassment but guilt.

You aren’t meant to want so what does that make you? You’re your mother’s daughter all right.

Her eyes closed, features twisting briefly into something like pain before they opened again, the smile she offered too tight and shallow to be real.

“I’m sorry, you must think me d-d-dreadfully suspicious, I’m just trying to say that I won’t chaperone the two of you. If you choose to meet to discuss this. And not simply because Fionn will be so excited about the whole thing that he’d be lucky to remember that he’s attracted to you,” she admitted with a nervous little giggle, high and uncomfortable.

“I think his love of knowledge might win out, even if he does have your pretty face to gaze upon. Some men are… are like that. It doesn’t mean that they aren’t int-”

She faltered, thoughts on another man who let his mind focus on research so that he sometimes seemed to forget that she excited. After a moment, the smile returned, a hand waving dismissively.

“Nevermind. I don’t think I need to discuss much else. Just the matter of meetings and I can arrange everything. Nothing to worry about.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

The breakdown of Niamh's matter-of-fact, professional delivery of her options added a layer of embarassment overtop of an implication that already brought a flush to Aurelie's face by itself. She hadn't said--but something must have shown on her face, because she didn't think Niamh would have presented the option otherwise. It seemed that the student was warming to her, or perhaps both of them to each other, but Aurelie had felt it was unlikely Niamh offered the alternative. Bells and chimes, this was just--terrible. Terrible? Awkward. Aurelie made a small noise and looked away.

"Alike?" The question squeaked out of her before she could stop it. Aurelie certainly wouldn't have said so if asked. After all, she was so... so dull. In what way were they alike? When they lost their temper, perhaps, though she couldn't have said for certain. Aurelie had little experience with it, from either of them really. She was surprised by how immediately comfortable she felt talking to him, but... She would just have to take Niamh's word for it.

"I'm not a respectable--ah. Hmm. I-it's fine--er, oh. You d-don't have to. Oh." That poison had almost oozed out of her again. Prior to recent events, she hadn't really had much reason or opportunity to dwell on such matters. Respectable women made respectable matches to respectable families; Aurelie had none of these things. It was a thought she'd not long pondered, and the words to shape it were slow in forming.

Something shifted in Niamh, but Aurelie couldn't have said what it was. A pain, and a tight smile. Aurelie didn't want to make a mistake, again, and offer an ear that wasn't wanted or needed. They had settled into some kind of comfort, and she wouldn't ruin it by opening her mouth. The last thing she wanted to was annoy Niamh just when she was starting to feel like an something of an uneasy ally. Aurelie let the thought trail into uncomfortable silence.

And good thing too, because Aurelie nearly choked on the nervous sip of tea she was taking when Niamh continued to speak.

"He'd be lucky to remember he's attracted to you." Aurelie thought her heart had settled, but there it went again. Which was absurd, because Niamh was pointedly saying something that shouldn't make her happy. Probably? Oh, she didn't know. Was it something she should be concerned with? Aurelie made an undignified squeaking noise. This really was a very confusing sort of feeling. She was fully torn between wanting to burrow beneath the floorboards over being called "pretty" and thinking about how much she wanted to see Fionn so excited.

"N-no, I--oh, ah. You're not-- I'm n-not... Oh. I wouldn't want to d-distract, I think, er." One day, she thought, she would be able to go an entire conversation and all of the words would at least resemble proper Estuan in some way. That day hadn't yet come, but she liked to think it would if she tried hard enough. "M-meetings would be... good? I think. Er. I-If... you, ah, wanted to--arrange--w-with... er, whoever... N-no, p-probably..." Aurelie tried to hold her teacup and tug on a strand of hair simultaneously, before giving it up as a lost cause.

Bells and chimes! Why was she like this a the mere idea that Fionn might find her attractive? For godssake, that was obvious, wasn't it? Even she could admit that, a little. Maybe it would be good if the idea of talking about the research meant he forgot about her entirely, because then she could go on functioning like a normal person. As much as she ever had.

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 10, Midday
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

While the golly student knew that she was generating some awkwardness for the servant, she didn’t know why—not initially—although she could guess why. Every time she brought up her brother she succeeded in making some comment or other that made things uneasy between them. The fact that she was worried about making things sound judgmental, seeming as if she was levelling some sort of allegations at the girl or merely insinuating, meant that including Aurelie and Fionn in the same sentence was tricky. If she was struggling with them being together in speech, she could only imagine how difficult she’d find it when they were physically in each other’s presence.

But Fionn and Lars had been together in the lab or at least both of them had been there at the same time. She had no idea if his behaviour around the boy was typical—they hadn’t interacted much here until relatively recently—but she thought not. In fact, when she had last asked her brother about his former roommate, well aware of his feelings for the young man, he had seemed troubled and perhaps a little guilty; he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. If his behaviour around Lars was a good indication about how he’d react around those he was enamoured with then she could be confident that things would be fine. Then again, the initial flame that had been kindled had been dimmed, no doubt as a result of time whereas his interest in Aurelie was new and vigorous and if he had an idea that it was reciprocated-

Niamh dragged her thoughts away from such things before she could go into a spiral of panic.

“Yes, you’re alike in… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. You speak similarly, the way you say things about passives, about-”

The young woman made a vague flapping motion with her hand, apparently trying to encompass a whole host of things that she couldn’t express.

“A number of things. I’m glad that you don’t have his propensity to be vulgar though,” she added with a wan smile. “However, it’s all just surface observation so possibly I’m just being silly.”

The young woman winced slightly when Aurelie doubted her respectability, Niamh unsure what to make of that. Was she saying that she had enjoyed the company of others in that and therefore couldn’t be respectable or-

Stop that! Stop thinking the worst of everyone! she chided herself. She could just mean that she isn’t a lady so she can’t be…

She mentally shook herself free of such thoughts, particularly because she didn’t want to disappear down a dark path where everything was sordid and where there was a world of trouble in the future. Besides, she hadn’t been talking to Aurelie, not really—she’d been reminding herself as much as anything. Niamh was supposed to be respectable, she really was. And it wasn’t as if she’d really strayed down a path of impropriety, just sometimes… she considered things—things she probably shouldn’t.

In truth, the eldest Madden didn’t know who was potentially the worse influence for the passive girl — herself or her brother? At this rate, she might as well count herself as a bad one because if she hadn’t had any ideas of her own, Niamh was certainly giving them to her!

The other redhead seemed to have grown flustered by something she’d said—about Fionn, no doubt—and she didn’t know what she was meant to say to that, didn’t know how to defuse it. Every time she opened her mouth, it seemed to get- Oh! Distract! Shit! Yes, she’d casually called the girl pretty—it was true and it wasn’t likely to be news in any case—and said that Fionn wouldn’t get distracted if he was in the depths of one of his monologues. Apparently, Aurelie had misunderstood.

“N-n-no, you won’t distract him! It’s not like you’re the first infatuation he’s worked- Uh, I mean, he has a particular attention span when he’s in here. It doesn’t waver. H-h-he’s very focused. Still friendly! He wouldn’t ignore you or a-a-anything, he’d just be- No, it’s not a problem!” she blurted out, doing her best not to choke on her own tongue.

Had it unhinged? Was it possible for that to happen? It certainly seemed to be flapping loosely enough! She was making everything worse again! She just needed to stop, breathe—deep, calming breaths—and consider her next words carefully. Maybe take a sip of tea. Yes, that’d buy her more time, give her something to do instead of allowing her mouth to run away on her.

Getting the cup to her lips proved to be difficult because her hands were trembling and it was quite obvious, the porcelain rattling on its saucer as she lifted them together. Unwisely, she chose to talk to drown out the rattling.

“I can arrange a meeting with Fionn and ass-assuming he doesn’t frighten you off, I’ll arrange a meeting with Har- Professor Moore. Not that F-F-Fionn will frighten you off, there’s no reason to- He’s just a boy and he’s not violent any- Ah! He’s um- There’s nothing wrong with him! He’s not- I know there are rumours but he wouldn’t hurt anybody! He’s probably the scariest thing here but he isn’t- What I mean is-”

She fumbled the cup in her agitation.

Actually fumbled suggested a bit of a coordination issue, just a little slip-up. In truth, it looked as if she threw the cup up and over the hands that were trying to hold it steady—that or it jumped. Either way, it shattered spectacularly on the floor, the velocity of it sending pieces of fine porcelain flying. Niamh squealed at it.

“Ticks! I- You don’t- I’ll sort it!” she practically screamed, resisting the urge to bury her crimson face in her hands. Stupidly, she found herself almost in tears over a broken cup as she slithered from the armchair onto her knees in a less than graceful gesture. It wasn’t the cup that brought the lump to her throat or the shining droplets to her hazel gaze—she always kept a stock of extra cups in case of mishaps—but rather the fact that she was making a ruddy fool of herself.

All she needed now was for someone else to come in to see her scrambling on her knees trying to gather broken porcelain and belatedly remembering the hot liquid only when her hands and skirt got wet, fabric pressed down by her knees into hot droplets and sharp slivers.

Niamh swore again, a hand moving to drag her hair out of her face as it swung forward to make a nuisance of itself and managed to catch a broken cup fragment in it instead. She released something between a whimper and a wail, her field becoming blue-shift and oppressively miserable.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Oh no, she'd done it again. Her absolute foolishness had made Niamh uncomfortable, so much so that the other woman had starting babbling. Aurelie wondered if it was contagious, being the way she was. Was Niamh always like this, or was it Aurelie? She hadn't seemed so--well, so much like her at their brief first meeting. Perhaps a little flustered but that was natural. She had been bearing witness to a disaster after all. Now poor Niamh clearly felt obligated to reassure her in some way, and really, truly, she didn't have to.

"N-no it's--I didn't mean-- it's fine! I just meant, er, it would be... good? I think. Ah. Hmm." It was quite possible they were in some sort of race to see who could make this even more embarassing the fastest. Though she was forced to admit to herself that she didn't particularly enjoy hearing about other infatuations. Even if that meant she was, at least in Niamh's mind, in that group as well. Which was ridiculous, of course. A silly little feeling she squashed flat before it could do any damage. She'd heard the rumors, hadn't she?

The trembling in Niamh's hands was growing alarming, however. Aurelie was strongly having to resist the urge to take the cup gently out of her hands and set it down. What had she said? Aurelie tried to remember. Was it the respectability comment? She shouldn't have said that. She'd only meant--she didn't think it much mattered what she did and didn't do, in a sense, except as it pertained to men specifically and--oh, ticks. She really shouldn't have said that. The implication had been unwise. Or was it something else she'd said?

She had opened her mouth to protest that no, Fionn would not scare her off. Yes, she had heard the rumors, and yes, she even had a sense that a degree of them were true. He'd said so, hadn't he? Implied it at least, and she'd seen... well. Something, a glimpse. Proof. It made her sad, not frightened. While it wouldn't have been appropriate to say all of this, at least not specifically, she had opened her mouth to say something.

And then the cup leapt out of Niamh's hands and shattered.

At once, Aurelie rose to her feet, despite Niamh's protests. Habit was too strong to break. Besides, she was grateful on some level to focus on something besides wondering what it was she'd said to upset Niamh so. As Niamh slithered from the chair, Aurelie set her own cup down and cast her eyes about for something to use to pick up the pieces of porcelain. Finding nothing, she made a small sound of frustration and produced instead a small scrap of cloth she carried in her apron pocket. She had been using to practice a small chain stitch, but it was going poorly and there was nothing else besides. Aurelie knelt down beside Niamh on the floor, careful not to step on any pieces.

"P-please, let me help! You'll--oh your dress!" Her tone had shifted from panicked to gentle, something in her taking over at the sight of Niamh's face. This was the second Madden she had quite possibly moved to tears in less than a month. At this rate, she was going to prove fatal to one of them.

Aurelie hesitantly held out the cloth to Niamh, gesturing at the shards of porcelain. "Here--for the pieces. I wouldn't want you to--you could cut yourself." Her voice was low, and she hoped soothing--the sort of tone one might use with a crying child or a frightened animal. It was possibly annoying, but there was no malice in it or judgement either. "I'm sorry--this is all I have. But it should be big enough to wrap them in."

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 10, Midday
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

She had no idea how this had gotten out of hand. Not the cup—she knew how that had gotten out of hand—but the situation in general. The young woman didn’t understand how she could have been so stupid and unprofessional and uncontrolled. She was meant to be the one with a handle on things here and instead, she was making a total fool of herself in front of someone who galdori society said was her inferior. Niamh was doing a great job being a superior individual with years of training and-

What did it all amount to really? She didn’t have anything to show for it. She was months away from graduating and yet more often than not, she couldn’t function. How was she even an adult? She couldn’t have a conversation with most people without jamming her foot firmly in her mouth. Aurelie must think her such an idiot—she’d be correct to think that.

“S-s-sorry. I’m s-s-sorry,” she gasped out, feeling the weight of the porcelain in her hair and teasing it out carefully, fingers still unsteady. The young woman had no idea why she was apologising. Well no, she did—she had a lot to apologise for—but she didn’t know what she was apologising for specifically. Maybe she was simply apologising for everything at once.

Her lacrimal ducts were oozing and there was nothing she could do about it, tears dribbling down her cheeks until they hit her lips. Her tongue flicked across them automatically, unthinkingly and she tasted the brine just before she started sniffling.

“It’s okay, it’ll- I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” she explained, gesturing at the darker green patches on the dress of her skirt, visible when she sat back on her heels. She gave another sniffle, wiping her sleeve across her gaze. There were worse things to be kneeling in but the material had soaked through in the areas where her knees had pressed and it was frankly disgusting; it had saturated her stockings as well and she hated it. With a groan, she realised how far from okay it was.

“Oh no! Someone has to w-w-wash it now. I’m s-s-so sorry,” the student despaired, gazing at the other with apologetic eyes; the hazel was more green now, swimming and shining with liquid. It had been so thoughtless of her, accidentally selfish because she’d been so careless. She was a privileged bitch who’d always had servants to pick up after her. And here she was expecting it again. She tried but- If she washed the damn stuff out herself—hard to do while she was wearing it—then no one else would have to deal with her mess.

Except that even now, Aurelie was trying to help her with her mess.

She reached out to accept the scrap of cloth, mouthing her thanks as she spread the material over her hand, cradling it so it could accept the fragments that she was going to put into it. Except that once it was there, she realised that it wasn’t plain. There were embroidery stitches on it, simple and clumsy but familiar. It wasn’t something that the young woman had much proficiency in but attempts had been made to teach her these sorts of skills. Domestic, suitable for a quiet, demure little housewife—that was what she was meant to be. The eldest Madden recalled what Aurelie had said on the way to the lab about the embroidery. It was all she had on her but it was hers. She couldn’t take it away from her.

The galdor scooped it back up and folded it carefully, still sniffling as she thrust it back in her companion’s direction.

“It’s yours, I can’t. There’s cloth where I store-”

She hiccuped, back of her hand pressed against her damp lips.

“-the spare teacups.”

She gestured to indicate the relevant cabinet, which was part of a bookshelf. The young woman hadn’t wanted the passive’s help—she hadn’t wanted to burden her on account of her own clumsiness—but she could do with it now, especially when it was offered.

“I need to mop up the tea too,” she explained, leaning back against the chair she’d so recently vacated, seeking its arms so she could grip them for support as she rose and returned to the seat. A new wave of pink—unlikely to be discernible in her blotchy featured—appeared as she peeled the dress skirt from her legs and hoisted it. It rose up her thighs to the point where garters were affixed to her stockings. Her gaze darted anxiously to the door, the notion of someone (Harper) walking in and seeing her like this enough to scandalise her, in spite of her upset. She untethered her stockings and began to roll each one down her legs.

The redhead took care, attentive so as not to damage them as she got them down past her knees, down her calves and undid her shoes so that she could remove the dampened material. Her skirt back to its normal position, albeit with the skin of bare legs beneath it, the young woman slipped her shoes back on and hung her stockings over the back of the chair to dry once they’d been shaken out.

She resumed her former kneeling position, a shift in her field as it was bolstered, something steely entering it that shunted the misery aside.

“Please, don’t deal with my mess. I didn’t want to burden you. I’m better taking care of this myself. I… I need to get used to it anyway; it’s not like I’ll have others to tidy up after me for much longer.”

The last was a whisper, grim determination etched onto her features as she leaned forward to begin plucking up fragments. She was thinking about her impending disownment; her parents didn’t know that they’d be doing that yet because they didn’t know that she was going to refuse to marry Caleb—refuse to adhere to any of their wishes for her. Soon enough, she wouldn’t be able to afford servants.

“I’ll sort this, Aurelie. And I’ll sort the meetings. Please, take some of that cloth for yourself. To practice on. I’ll… I’ll be in touch.”

She didn’t expect the girl to stay, even if she hadn’t formally dismissed her; it was implied, wasn’t it?

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Niamh was a mess. The other young woman had admitted this of herself already, and Aurelie saw no point in pretending it wasn't so. Her face was blotchy, she had tea soaked through her clothes, a piece of cup in her hair that Aurelie watched her try to untangle. She didn’t think the stockings or uniform were stained--nothing a good wash couldn’t get out--but Niamh seemed absolutely crushed.

”The laundries have seen worse things than a tea-stained uniform,” she said reassuringly. Aurelie wasn’t sure how comforting it was. She thought of making a joke about how all of their underclothes and bed linens came through the laundry rooms as well, but thought the better of it given Niamh’s state. No need to add further distress. Her jokes were rarely funny.

To her surprise, cloth was handed back to her. She wanted to say that it was fine, that she was not so attached to these rows of practice stitching that Niamh needed to worry, but she appreciated the gesture. The careful folds--like it was important. Aurelie nodded and went to the cabinets that Niamh indicated, turning her back firmly while the girl took off her soaked stockings.

When she turned back, a few cloths in hand, something about Niamh’s manner had changed. For a moment, Aurelie stayed where she was, studying Niamh’s face and thinking about the shift in the feel of her field. At last she knelt down carefully next to Niamh, trying to catch her gaze. A smile had spread across her face.

Whatever Niamh meant--surely, she would have household staff after her graduation--Aurelie liked the look on her face. Determination. And she wanted to do it for herself. Aurelie couldn’t help but approve. Niamh didn’t need to hear that from her, she thought, but she felt it anyway.

”Thank you--you’ve given me a lot to think about. It has been…” Aurelie searched her mind for the right word. Pleasant didn’t seem quite true, all things considered, but she couldn’t say it had been wholly unpleasant either. Finally she settled on one that was not perfect, but adequate enough. ”...Good. Speaking with you.” Aurelie took only one cloth, because she had been asked to do so.

She knew a dismissal when she heard one, formal or otherwise. After carefully folding the cloth to put in her pocket, she rose to her feet to leave. In the doorway she paused, turning back to Niamh.

”I--well, you know where to find me. And… Thank you, again, for this.” If she meant the cloth, casually given to her to practice, or something else, it wasn’t clear. With a small bow, she slipped out of the room and back to work, head stuffed full.