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[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Morning, 35 Dentis 2719
Guest Quarters, Brunnhold Campus

The passive kept the laughter from her mouth, but it was written all across her face; it crinkled at the edges of her eyes, and tugged at her cheeks. It echoed all through her voice. There was nothing cruel in it, nor her eyes. Nkemi was grinning too, a little wider, sheepish but amused as well. She giggled.

“Oh, I – yes,” Nkemi giggled again. She had understood that they were a snack, at least. It was sugar on the outside; she had known that, at least, from touching it, but that there were nuts in the dough was something of a surprise.

Nkemi’s gaze went back to the window, and then back to the passive. “I had never – I am not very familiar with Anaxi food,” Nkemi admitted; her grin broadened a little.

Dry, the passive called them, without tea. She was watching Nkemi, with a little smile on her face. She shifted, as if waiting; Nkemi saw her throat move, just a little.

Nkemi thought she understood, although it was very hard to be sure. She looked down at the tray, and came a little closer to it. “I will try one,” Nkemi said cheerfully, looking back up at the red-haired passive. She poured some of the tea into the little cup first; it steamed, bitter-dark into the air, though without the pleasant richness of kofi.

Nkemi, hesitant, lifted the cup to her nose and sniffed. She had not yet grown quite used to Anaxi tea; in truth, she did not like it. This one was only bitter, without the spice taste which sometimes accompanied them. She took a tiny little sip, and swallowed; a grimace flickered across her face, but she eased it down, and the cup too, a little hastily.

Nkemi studied the tray, intently. She had tried Anaxi tea with milk, and did not much care for it; the milk was odd, sweet and rich, not like the goat’s milk on which Nkemi had been raised. She ignored the little pitcher of milk, then, but carefully added a spoon of sugar to the tea. She stirred it around until the crystals dissolved in the dark liquid, then took another careful sip. Nkemi’s nose wrinkled again, the tiniest bit, but less than before; she set the cup back down.

There were lemon wedges, too, on the tray; Nkemi picked one up, and carefully squeezed a few drops of it into the tea. She stirred again, and took another sip; she set the cup down, and, carefully, squeezed the rest of the lemon into it. There were so many tips of this odd bitter Anaxi tea; sometimes the lemon went well with it, and sometimes not. Nkemi was pleased to discover it did, this time; she had found the lemon and sugar made the taste of it less bitter, or at least left the bitterness easier to manage.

The problem of the tea sorted, Nkemi turned her attention to the cookies. She shot a hopeful smile at the passive, picking one up. Nkemi lifted it, and took a bite. It was dry, and very buttery, but there were bits of nuts, although Nkemi could not identify them by taste. That was pleasant, at least; something to break up the texture, and something which did not simply taste like flour and butter. A little puff of white sugar had scattered onto Nkemi’s sweater, although she had not noticed.

Nkemi set the cookie down with powdered-white fingers, and picked up the tea to wash it down. She smiled at the passive. “They are very interesting,” The Mugrobi said carefully. “I have not had anything like it before.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Aurelie had not been waiting, precisely, for the guest to try one of the snowballs she had brought up. Which wasn't to say she wasn't terribly curious about her opinion. Of course not--she always wanted to know what others thought of her culinary efforts, as much as possible. She had mostly just been expecting to be dismissed first.

The passive reached out then, intending to pour the tea herself, but was too slow. There was something galling about this, although she thought she did a reasonable job keeping it from her expression. More important things in the grand scheme of it all than being too slow to pour tea, but Aurelie couldn't help but feel like she had failed somewhere in what was expected of her.

The Mugrobi woman had said that she was not very familiar with Anaxi food. Aurelie wondered if this extended to tea as well; she was given to understand it was not as popular, outside of Anaxas. Not in the Anaxi preparation, at least. She thought that perhaps she had been right, from the hasty way the slight woman set down her cup. Sugar went in the cup, followed by lemon. A suitable choice, although Aurelie preferred hers without either. Aurelie was conscious of looking too closely, of her attention crossing the line into staring. She looked back down towards her hands, which she clasped in front of her as she waited.

A hopeful smile; Aurelie returned it. She was hopeful, after all. Hopeful that something she made would be appreciated. She always wanted that, no matter who was doing the eating. Even when she was cooking for demanding, demeaning students for their daily meals. It was a matter of whatever it was that passed for pride in her.

Interesting, she had said. Neither good nor bad--interesting. Aurelie couldn't help but be a little crushed, although it didn't ultimately matter. It felt like a polite way to avoid saying that she didn't care for them. Still, Aurelie nodded and said nothing more on the matter. She would deal with her own private disappointment later. There was nothing to be done for differing tastes. She made a small sound of acknowledgement, followed by a quick and polite smile.

There was a light dusting of white on her brown sweater. Was it better to tell her, or to leave it be? Surely better to tell her. It wasn't something one tended to want to discover only hours into their day, usually. Or was it just meddling? Well. Meddling or not, welcome or not, Aurelie felt as if she had to say something.

"Ah, excuse me ma'am but... there's, ah, on your sweater..." Aurelie trailed off and gestured at the general area on her own self.

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Morning, 35 Dentis 2719
Guest Quarters, Brunnhold Campus

The passive had been looking down; she glanced up when Nkemi spoke, and offered a quiet little sound and a quick, hesitant smile.

Nkemi set the cup of tea back down, carefully. She did not think of taking another bite of the snowballs; she did not quite understand the Anaxi obsession with drowning flavors and textures in flour and sugar. It was not quite that it tasted poorly – it did not – but it was so different from what she was used to. The passive was still standing there; Nkemi shifted, and opened her mouth to speak.

The passive spoke first; Nkemi glanced down at her gesture, and then down again, at her own sweater. It was an awkward angle, and more than a little hard to see. “Oh, thank you,” Nkemi smiled brightly up at small, bright-haired girl.

The Mugrobi stripped off her sweater unhesitatingly; she wore a breast band beneath, a bright colorful strip of cloth wrapped tightly over her, and nothing else. It was a little cold; goosebumps rippled over her skin, and Nkemi shivered, but she did not regard it as even a slightly odd thing to have done. There was nothing much remarkable about her torso; she was as slender as she looked, with a smattering of marks and scars here and there, although nothing major to speak of.

Nkemi draped the sweater over the back of the chair; she went to fetch the water pitcher which had come with the room, pouring a little water onto the small hand towel also provided. She hesitated, standing there, towel in hand, still sweaterless, looking down at the brown sweater on the table.

“Is…” Nkemi hesitated, wrinkling her nose. She did not quite know how to ask. It was nice to have the passive’s company, even if it was more than odd and a little stilted; it was better than the strange loneliness of the guest quarters; Nkemi had grown accustomed, quickly, to the distant noises of the barracks, even if sleeping was not always so easy as it could be. It was not that she minded having her own room; it was only that it was - that it had been - so very quiet. She wondered if she was meant to have told the girl to leave; she wondered if she was meant to have asked her to stay.

Nkemi shifted. She did not know which way was right; she did not know even the shape of all that which she did not know. She dragged the damp cloth over the fabric from the outside in, working with the comfortable and easy efficiency of someone used to cleaning their own clothing.

“It is nice to have your company,” Nkemi said, simply, as direct as she had been before. She wiped clean the last of the sugar, and turned to smile at the passive in the doorway. “But I do not wish you to feel obligated to stay. I hope I have not made it so without meaning to.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Was it overstepping to have mentioned the sugar on the woman's sweater? Aurelie hoped not, but she couldn't be sure. To Aurelie's relief, she was not upset. She thanked her instead and smiled, bright again. And then took her sweater off.

"Oh!" Aurelie let out a squeak of surprise and whirled around. "S-so sorry!" Her eyes barely had time to register the strip of bright cloth before she had turned her back. Bells and chimes! Surely this was not normal behavior, outside of Anaxas? To just--just... remove one's clothes in front of strangers? While Aurelie was used to being treated as if she didn't exist, usually it was slightly less... literal. No matter how invisible a passive was supposed to be, the galdori population of Brunnhold did not tend to act as if they were truly alone around them. Not like this, anyway.

And so very little under the sweater! That was perhaps even stranger still than the action; Aurelie was used to the layers upon layers she wore at all times. That much had been true all of her life. She had perhaps a few more now than she did in childhood, but certainly never that few. Especially not in winter! Aurelie wasn't sure if she was more scandalized or apologetic.

When she heard a voice again she turned back around, slowly. Her eyes were fixed firmly to the floor. Oh she was blushing terribly, she could feel herself doing so. She raised her eyes a little higher, hopeful a new sweater had been put on. It had not. This was really very strange. Now that she had turned around and looked up, she found she couldn't easily turn away again. She also couldn't quite bring herself to look. Perplexed, she realized she would have to settle for looking up higher. It was fortunate then that they were of similar height.

"Oh! Er, n-no, you haven't--it isn't--hmm." Aurelie still couldn't meet her eyes, either. The ear would have to do. Suitably high enough, but not quite so presumtuous. "I--er. It is very kind of you to say so, Ms... ah. Oh," Aurelie stopped her babbling suddenly, "I'm--I'm sorry ma'am, I... I don't know your name."

How could she not have asked? She supposed--well really she didn't think she would remain so long, or... Or talk so much. Normally, she didn't need to know. Normally, she wasn't expected to know. She didn't truly need to know now, but it seemed somehow impolite to have seen this much of her skin, even accidentally, and not know her name. Aurelie twisted the bracelet around her wrist, thoroughly flustered. Her and her big mouth--she should have just left the tray behind and returned to work.

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Morning, 35 Dentis 2719
Guest Quarters, Brunnhold Campus

The passive’s face had gone the bright red of foreigners blushing. Nkemi felt heat on her own cheeks and the back of her neck in empathetic response, her eyes wide as the girl stammered through half a sentence, followed by almost all of another one, and then a last which ended in the faint upward raising of her voice. All the while, she seemed to be staring determinedly off to the side of Nkemi’s head, her gaze solidly fixed on what seemed like some point just past her.

She was flustered, too, not merely flushed; she was shifting slightly on her feet, and one hand was twisting the small woven bracelet at her wrist.

“I –“ Nkemi blinked. She looked down at herself, and then back at the other girl, who suddenly looked exceptionally young. Nkemi picked up her sweater, and pulled it back on, although the damp patch was unpleasant against cold, goosebump prickled skin. She was not so new to Anaxas as not to realize that she had erred; even if asked, she did not think she could have realized it would make the passive so uncomfortable.

It is only skin, Nkemi had wanted to say sometimes to the Anaxi and Bastians she had met in Mugroba, and, too, to many of those here. In this cold place it made sense, at least, to be covered up, but she had met many in Thul Ka in the hottest parts of the year who wore their thick, heavy clothing of home as determinedly as if it were some talisman of the Gods. At least there she understood that some of them feared the burning of the sun such skin was sensitive to, though there were hats which could prevent such a fate, and one at least should yield to the wearing of lighter clothing.

None of it, though, was the passive’s fault.

“I am Junior Subprefect Nkemi pezre Nkese of the Windward Market District of Thul Ka,” Nkemi said with a smile and a little bow at the waist, her mouth and every inch of her filled with the gravitas of her title. Perhaps it was her duty here; perhaps it was not. She could not be sure, but part of being a prefect was the wearing of the name and title, and it was an honor Nkemi did not take lightly. “You may call me Nkemi, if you like. I am sorry; our customs are different, in Mugroba. I did not think.”

“What is your name?” Nkemi asked with a friendly smile. She took the dry side of the cloth, and blotted lightly at the damp stain on her sweater. It was, at least, warmer, and she was not a stranger to the feel of damp cloth against her skin; no Mugrobi was. But she did not think these thick fabrics would dry quickly, for all their advantage against the miserable cold.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Junior Subprefect Nkemi.... Aurelie lost the rest of it, try as she might to retain it all. There was a lot there, really. Most of it was title--Aurelie at least knew that much, even if she didn't know quite what all of it meant in the grand scheme of things. The part of it that was Nkemi's name she caught fair enough. Of course the name itself was another problem again, but surely she was... Oh how terrible, but Aurelie could only hope that she was rather used to the slight mangling of her name in Anaxi mouths.

"Oh, er, no, please don't, ah--it's quite alright." That it was most certainly not "quite alright" with her was obvious from her face, but she hoped she could be forgiven the lie. She simply didn't know how else to react. It was her own problem, after all. Nkemi seemed rather unconcerned as far as Aurelie could tell. Now that she was dressed again, Aurelie dared to lower her eyes to look the other woman in the face. She was a little sorry then, as she noticed the sweater itself was damp and that seemed unpleasant. Something else would have covered just as well. Aurelie's thumb did not stop running over the braid at her wrist.

Aurelie blinked again in immediate surprise at being asked her name. She would perhaps get used to this... this seeming foreign preoccupation with treating her like a proper person. At least a person enough for a name, which was more than could be said of most here. She paused for a moment, unsure how to answer when "Steerpike" sat so strange upon her tongue.

"Aurelie, Ms. Nkemi, er, ma'am," she offered at last. No, she wasn't sure she could get used to this. Nkemi looked at her with another friendly smile, and Aurelie was stricken by nervousness. It was becoming rapidly apparent to her, of late, that she simply didn't know what was expected of her in situations like these. It was easier with others of her station--there was an understanding there. Also, none of them could ever leave. Constant and forced proximity had something of a smoothing effect on her interactions.

What now was she meant to do, for example? Aurelie thought a great many things. She was still a bit flustered at the ease with which Nkemi removed her sweater. (She very briefly wondered how common this was, and if it applied to--no. This was a strange sort of thought she did not like to entertain, and she batted it down as best she was able.) And still she was a bit sorry because it seemed that she was halfway through cleaning it and it was still damp. That couldn't possibly be comfortable. Aurelie wasn't quite sure what to do about it, however. Perhaps there was a trick, to getting it to dry faster--if there was, she didn't know what it could be. Laundry had always been something of a weak point in her skill set. Not as much as simple conversation, she thought with an internal sort of grimace, but a weak point none the less.

"Ah. What, ah, does it mean? The... What is a Junior Subprefect? Er. If you don't mind my asking." Aurelie was, it must be acknowledged, fairly desperate for a topic of conversation to distract from her awkwardness. The question of title seemed safe enough, and she did want to know besides.

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Morning, 35 Dentis 2719
Guest Quarters, Brunnhold Campus

O rali,” Nkemi repeated back, carefully doing her best with the Anaxi name. She liked the soft consonants of it, and rolled them carefully into the vowels, lilting through all of it. Orali had come down hard on the vowels in her name, sounding them out, but Nkemi didn’t mind; it had been said carefully, and the attempt mattered much more than any sort of success.

There was an awkward pause between them. Orali had not gone, though she was still hovering close to the doorway; Nkemi was not sure what to make of it. She was pleased, a little, despite the stilted nature of the conversation. She was curious, still, very curious.

So, she thought, was Orali.

“It means I am a prefect of Thul Ka,” Nkemi explained, smiling, “although only a very junior one.”

“Here, I think - perhaps we are closest to your Seventen,” Nkemi explained. She shifted; she sat against the desk, as best as she could. The chair was still heaped high with the blanket she had stripped from the bed.

“But it is different also,” Nkemi said. “My duty is to seek justice in the Windward Market district of Thul Ka.” The prefect was still half-sitting, but she straightened, her shoulders squaring; she was still smiling, friendly, but there was a pride and confidence which shone through her as she spoke of her work.

“I report not to a captain,” Nkemi said, thinking of the Seventen offices in Vienda, “but to the magistrates of my district’s court. It is not my brief merely to chase down wrongdoers in the street, but to investigate crimes, to find those responsible if they may be found, and to argue before the courts on the strength of the evidence I have gathered.”

Nkemi could still remember the first time she had learned of the Prefects; not as a girl, for which she was grateful. If ever she had crossed the path of a prefect she had not known it, and she had had no reason to know it. It had been during her days at Thul’Amat - before she had asked Professor Ruedka to mentor her, although not so many years before.

Thul’Amat had its own system of justice on campus, and no district court to which prefects could be attached. By the time she had reached her sixth year, however, Nkemi had lived just far enough from campus to be in the district of Deja Point. There had been a tragedy in the dormitory, a girl dead; Nkemi had watched the prefects make sense of it. There was no justice to be served; they pieced together the last of her life, and offered to her grieving parents the sad truth of its ending.

Nkemi had not known, then, but she had wondered what it would be like to understand.

“That is where I learned the baton,” Nkemi offered Orali with a smile, gesturing towards the bed. “There is perhaps some chasing to be done.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

The way Nkemi said her name was pleasantly strange. Not quite right, but she didn't mind. She could only hope Nkemi felt the same, as she knew she had not been entirely correct either. She had tried, and that would hopefully count for something. Not, she reminded herself, that it mattered. She would just hate to have offended on this, if she had not managed to do so already.

Aurelie waited at the doorway, still unsure if she should stay or go. The question had been a distraction for her, but she had wanted to know. It was a little thrilling, to be able to ask questions that had nothing to do with her work and receive an answer. A pleasant sort of novelty, that she had not realized she enjoyed indulging in until recently.

Nkemi explained, and Aurelie was attentive. She didn't miss the shift in Nkemi's posture, that straightening of the shoulders and the spine even from her half-seated lean against the desk. Proud, that was the word for it. Nkemi looked proud. And well she might be! It sounded like the sort of thing one would take pride in. Aurelie didn't know what the Windward Market district of Thul Ka was like, not even a little, but she thought she understood the rest of it well enough.

Nkemi had maintained such a friendly openness. That was slightly difficult for Aurelie to reconcile to her image of what an officer of the Seventen was like. Aurelie could not say she had much experience with the Seventen, either those that operated in Brunnhold or in Vienda in her childhood. So perhaps this was not unusual, or perhaps prefects were different enough. It was still a strange sort of puzzle for her.

Aurelie followed the gesture with her eyes, finding the baton. It was the practice with it that had stopped Aurelie when she first arrived. Again her interest crept obvious on her face, picturing it again.

"I see," she said eventually. Aurelie wasn't quite sure what to say. It had all been fascinating. "That sounds very, er. Important." Chimes, what a ridiculous thing to say. "Important"? Was that really the best she could manage? The color had retreated from her face as she had listened; it returned again now. Aurelie didn't look away from the baton, her weight shifting uncomfortably. Perhaps it would be better if Nkemi just asked her to leave, so she couldn't keep opening her mouth. The kitchens were better for her after all; conversation was not expected or often even possible with the noise. Safer that way.

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Morning, 35 Dentis 2719
Guest Quarters, Brunnhold Campus

Orali watched her from the doorway, wide-eyed. Nkemi watched her too, as she spoke, smiling and friendly. Orali followed her gesturing hand to the baton; Nkemi could see something change on her face – a little frown, but not an uncomfortable one, Nkemi did not think.

Nkemi let her explanation end there, and they hovered in silence for a moment. Orali still stood very close to the door, just inside the doorway; there was a little less tension in the lines of her, although Nkemi still thought it possible she might go at any moment. She spoke again, in time; red crept over her cheeks again; she shifted, hesitant.

Important, Orali said. She was still looking at the bed, and Nkemi thought at the baton which lay on top of it.

“Yes,” Nkemi agreed, solemnly. She was watching the small passive, still; she grinned, breaking up the heaviness of it. “Or, at least, I hope so,” the Mugrobi said, honestly. It was always best to admit when the truth was one of your heart; it was always best to offer that, too, into the conversation.

Nkemi came away from the desk; she crossed the room to the bed, and picked up the baton. She looked down at it, at the smooth gleaming wood, and the neat leather strap, just a little worn, and at her hand too – calluses on her palm and fingers, and the tiniest bit of rough skin on her wrist, where the baton caught when dropped, suddenly. She had bruised her thigh and ribs more than once in the training yard and beyond.

Nkemi didn’t settle the strap around her wrist; instead, she took a few steps close to the door, flipped the baton around so it was the heavy top she held and not the butt, and extended it out towards Orali. “Would you like to hold it?” She asked, cheerfully. “The baton is not mandatory for prefects; we have some choice of tools. This is a nice one for a person who is of a smaller size,” Nkemi grinned cheerfully.

She had not quite gone all the way to Orali; if the passive wanted to hold the baton, she would need to take a few steps – just one or two, maybe three if they were small – deeper into the room. Nkemi did not close the gap, just as she had not kept talking after she had stopped. Her posture was all loose and open; there was nothing closed or tense about her. Even her fingertips were light on the edge of the baton, although her wrist was straight and palm pressed, just a little.

It was heavier than it looked, the smooth, rounded piece of wood; it was useful, too, very useful. Over time, as chips and gouges were smoothed out, it would grow smaller and smaller, until it was in need of replacing. This was Nkemi’s second; she had been given a new one for the trip to Anaxas, although the first was still serviceable. She had been a little sorry to lose it, though only for sentimental reasons; she was well-used, now, to the weight of the second.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Nkemi had agreed with her inane assessment, which Aurelie thought was very kind of her. There was a moment where Aurelie thought that she had said something insulting or overly foolish; the look on the prefect's face had been so heavy. But she smiled again that same friendly, open smile that she had maintained the whole time Aurelie had been in the room. Aurelie attempted to return it with a little more success than before. Not quite so open, but friendly enough. Just a little tension at the edges.

Aurelie had not been yet asked to leave, so she stayed. Poised to go, if that should be what Nkemi wanted. It was what she should have done, for so many reasons. But nobody could fault her for waiting to be dismissed, could they? That wasn't out of line? That she needed dismissal at all had been her own fault, but... Well. It wasn't like she wasn't allowed to talk in this manner with anyone. Just that it was usually not desirable for either party. So this was fine. Probably.

Nkemi crossed to the bed and picked up the baton. Aurelie watched that, too. She had expected her to slide the strap around her wrist, or put it way--anything but what she did, which was flip it around in her hands and hold the thing out to Aurelie. Aurelie blinked. Would she like to hold it, Nkemi asked. Aurelie looked at the wooden weight of it, and back up to Nkemi's face. To her cheerful smile. Of a smaller size--yes, that made sense. Nkemi was not much taller than Aurelie after all, and more slender.

Aurelie would have to step further inside the room if she were to take it. Not too far, just a few steps. It seemed a long distance. She would be committing, then, and couldn't say she was merely waiting to be asked to leave. A choice to indulge her curiosity, instead of what she should be doing. She had the feeling that she could refuse and it would matter not at all, but would perhaps get her the dismissal she insisted to herself she was waiting for.

But it was interesting, wasn't it? When would this happen again? She worried her lip between her teeth.

"I-if you wouldn't mind," Aurelie said as she stepped forward, shy. Three small steps, but made quickly enough. She took it gingerly, and not a little bit apologetic. As if her curiosity itself was something to be sorry for.

She almost lost her grip on it at first--it was much heavier than it had seemed, looking at it. But she recovered quickly enough. Like adjusting an awkward grip on a heavy pan, she thought. Solid and, she imagined, useful. Not for her, no--she could not imagine a circumstance in which such a thing would ever be useful to her, in her tidy and contained life. But--there's a little chasing, Nkemi had said. Aurelie held it a moment and thought about it. She then turned it around to hand it back, as it had been handed to her in that way.

"What makes it better for someone small--er. I mean, that is. If you, ah, don't mind my asking." The question had fallen out of her mouth before she could think on it. She didn't think the question particularly rude itself, just that she was doing the asking.