[PM to Join] A Dry Heat (Aurelie, Alethea)

[Harris Shaw]

Yaris 4, 2719 | Shaw's Shanks

Morning was hotter than expected. With the advent of the dry season, Harris was grateful to be working indoors. He was especially grateful for the ice box in the back room of his butcher shop. After the last of the early morning shoppers left with their assorted cuts, he seized his chance to disappear there for a glass of ice water. The smell of fresh, raw pork permeated the air around him as he pressed the empty glass to each cheek, in turn, enjoying the sharp cold on his skin. Such a luxury -- ice in his own home -- had been his for just half a year now. The chime of the bell above the door frame interrupted his moment of hedonism.

"Good morning!" His baritone voice carried through the small space easily. Trading his empty cup for a clean rag to dry his hands, he remerged behind his counter. Harris was tall enough (and the building was golly enough) that he had to duck slightly on his way through the doorframe. "How may I be of service to you today?" His quick bow matched his tone of voice: agreeable and practiced to the point of meaninglessness. The pleasantries were fully delivered before he'd even made proper eye contact with whomever it was he'd be serving now.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Yaris 4, 2719 Mid-Morning | Shaw's Shanks - The Stacks

Blessed Lady but it was hot. Every dry season, Aurelie was sure this one would be her last. The layers upon layers of her uniform allowed no escape from the oppressive heaviness of the air. Not for the first time, Aurelie longed for the freedom of short sleeves, of thin cotton lawn. And that she didn't insist on having clocking bangs, because they stuck to her face at the first sign of moisture in the air or on her skin. It was wildly irritating. The heat was bad enough inside Brunnhold--the kitchens especially were nightmarish with all of the fires and the relatively close proximity of passive bodies working together--but outside in the Stacks? With no stone walls between her and the dry heat of Yaris? Aurelie felt fair ready to faint dead away.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little thrill. Heat or no heat, it wasn't every day that she got to actually leave University campus. The amount of trust placed in her in being assigned to an errand in the Stacks was staggering--she almost felt guilty for it. Her actions had not been terribly trustworthy of late. But harmlessly so, she reassured herself. It wasn't the first time she had to tell herself this, and it wouldn't be the last. One of the Matrons who oversaw the kitchen staff had approached her that morning after the preparations for the student lunch were more or less complete. One of the faculty members--Aurelie couldn't for the life of her remember which it had been, as they all tended to blur together in her imagination--had made a special request for a meal, to be prepared for themselves and a few students. At first the kitchen maid had assumed she was merely being asked to assist with the meal, which was interestingly out of her routine enough to delight her in and of itself, although less so than it might have earlier in the year. She was accordingly shocked when that wasn't what she was asked to do.

No, this wasn't merely a special menu request--Aurelie was asked to go to the Stacks and pick up the meat required for the main courses. As it was a special meal, they had nothing in store that fit the bill. Matron had gravely handed her a slip of paper with the address and strict instructions to not linger or make any stops along the way. It had been very difficult for her to contain her expression, but Matron hadn't seemed to mind. If she wasn't mistaken, the older woman had actually smiled at her somewhat indulgently. A fleeting expression, but Aurelie thought at the very least it meant Matron understood her excitement.

What was more, it wasn't just anyone who had been assigned to go with her. No, it was her roommate Alethea who had been given the task. Aurelie couldn't help but hope that their little outing might be at least somewhat enjoyable--a time to get a little closer, perhaps? They were on friendly terms, to be sure. Aurelie really did like her dark-haired and taciturn roommate, for all that she found her a bit intimidating as well. Aurelie wondered if Matron was being kind to her, assigning her with someone she already knew. Although she certainly had needed someone who could carry things a bit more ably than she could herself. Alethea certainly was stronger than her, and taller, and more used to hauling things around. So perhaps that was all there was to it.

"I think--I think this is the place." Aurelie squinted at the paper in her hand, then back up at the building in front of her. Finding it had been mildly difficult--the winding streets of the Stacks were more difficult to nagivate than she had anticipated, and the press of so many bodies (not just passives or galdori, not out here!) had made her anxious. Aurelie had stayed close to her taller roommate, stopping just short of taking the other girl's hand for stability the whole way over. Crowds, she realized, made her nervous. She rarely had to think about it.

Without waiting for a reply from Alethea, she pushed open the door to the butcher shop. At first, she didn't see anyone--had she come at the wrong hour? Was the shop actually closed? But no, how could it be--the door was open! Aurelie chewed her lip nervously, wondering if they should say something, or do something, or leave, or--

The sound of a baritone voice ringing out through the shop relieved her immensely. Not empty then--just in the back. Of course. Aurelie felt a little silly, and had just started to relax when the butcher himself appeared behind the counter. Aurelie was put in mind of nothing more than a crow at the sight of him--a clocking large crow. Accustomed to the much smaller figures of Anaxi galdori and passives, the man seemed to Aurelie to fill the entire space. She hardly noticed that he hadn't made eye contact with them--she had stepped slightly behind her roommate without realizing, intimidated.

[Alethea Fairburn]

The temptation to take a knife to her uniform had been strong, but Alethea had resisted, and she was pleased with herself for that much. However, she had not resisted rolling up her sleeves as much as she could, exposing her scarred forearms. It wasn't much of a reprieve, but it was better than nothing. She couldn't do this when she was doing deliveries in Brunnhold, someone would throw a fit, but she would risk it out here in the Stacks. It was nice to fantasize for a moment that she had the freedom to make those kinds of choices about her own life.

Upon entering the shop with Aura, she relaxed a bit, the cool air pleasant against her bare arms. When she heard the man's voice, she didn't think much of it until she saw him, and realized Aura had ducked behind her. He was huge.

Alethea took a short, steadying breath. He was fine, she was sure. Startling, but she trusted her gut and her gut wasn't telling her that he was a danger. Which was quite good, because while Alethea was confident in her fighting abilities, she would stand no chance against this man.

"Good morning, sir." She said steadily, deliberately polite and keeping her gaze on him, unafraid of eye contact, "My friend has a purchase to make."

She thought about just handling this herself, but she knew nothing about meat except that she liked eating it--she didn't even remember the names of what they were buying, just that someone was special enough to warrant a unique meal for themselves, as Aura had told her.

[Harris Shaw]

Yaris 4, 2719 | Shaw's Shanks

When Alethea spoke, Harris looked at the pair as if he hadn't noticed them before greeting them. He hadn't, not truly. For the past few seasons, patrons of every station had visited his shop -- some regularly, others once or twice. Some shared their names, others frequented in anonymity. Almost all were civil, with the odd personality extremist thrown in as some sort of test. This whole matter of working for himself was a self-imposed test, he supposed, of whether he was cut out for such autonomy. Two gated passives behind closed doors, alone, with himself, a human working toward the undoing of their way of life -- for better or worse -- was a circumstance for which he had not accounted.

His eyes moved from the small woman down to the distinctly smaller woman. Half-hidden by her companion, there was less of her to see than there was beef on any single hook in the window display. The look on her face struck him harder than anything else about her. His appearance disquieted her, and for a fleeting moment, he desired to be smaller. Fleeting because the thought was patently repulsive: his entire world had been fashioned for her sake, the clocking short ceiling above his head included. His own body scarcely belonged to him, its whereabouts and actions literally permitted. His sense of himself was all he really owned in all this world.

He knew it was unfair to take offense: her lot was worse. That size, with no poetry? These gollies lived caged lives, surrounded by all that their fathers had built or conquered, and made to work as slaves with no stake in the spoils. They weren't even trusted to serve independently; passives always walked through the Stacks in pairs. The one who spoke to him was, no doubt, the little one's keeper, there to assure no lines were crossed in her carriage of minor purchases. How any person could stand to live this way, he couldn't know.

All told, he'd probably studied them a second longer than propriety allowed. Not confident that addressing one of them wouldn't get the other in some kind of trouble, he settled on eye-contact with the red-haired one, the one entrusted with the errand. His expression softened considerably. "I see. What would you like to purchase? Er, what sort of it did you -- of meat, or..." He fumbled around a second for what he actually wanted to say. "I mean -- would you like some ice water? You seem... warm. Madam." Behind his straight face, he cursed every god there was.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

The moment Aurelie realized she had moved herself behind the taller passive, she felt ridiculous. The man was just tall, that wasn't dangerous. Not to herself, at least--she could imagine that being of such a height in buildings intended for much smaller Anaxi galdori (or even humans) would pose a danger to the man himself. After processing her error, Aurelie also felt a little ashamed. Not only was it absurd, hiding behind Alethea, but it was rude to boot.

It's just the crowds, they've made me jumpy, she reassured herself. There were more people than usual even, with the Gala week being in full swing and so many visitors in town. Aurelie normally spent the week on Brunnhold campus proper, which was still bustlingly busy, but this year it was positively bursting with people. More even in the Stacks than on campus, with the celebration doors thrown open to non-galdori for the first time. Aurelie was disconcerted to realize she didn't do well in such large throngs of people. Still, it was good Allie had taken it on herself to speak for Aurelie. She didn't quite know if she could have managed.

Although--why was he staring? Aurelie stepped out from behind her roommate, trying to straighten her posture to something making a vague stab at confidence. While the effort didn't work, she felt a little better for having tried. "Madam" was a new one--nobody had addressed her in such a way... Well, ever, really. People rarely addressed her directly in general, of course, who weren't other passives. Even then. The formality took her aback. Did she look like a "madam"? She didn't think she did, but perhaps she was wrong.

"Oh! Er," Aurelie's voice came out a little off-key. She stopped, then tried again. "W-water? I--hmm. That would be, er."

Were they allowed to say yes? Aurelie truly didn't know--the situation had never come up before. She looked nervously up at Allie, then even further up to the butcher himself. Surely they were allowed? It was truly sweltering, and there was nothing like long sleeves and three layers of underthings to make a body overly warm. What was the harm?

"I would--Allie, do you...? Er. That would be--lovely, yes, thank you, s-sir... Hrm." This whole interaction was more nerve-wracking than she had imagined it would be. Was "sir" appropriate? He was human after all--it was strange, to feel no field but see a face that clearly was never supposed to have one. Not like her. The "sir" had been long habit, and Aurelie wasn't sure it wasn't a little out of line. Too late now, and a little extra politeness never did harm. Usually. Oh, she did hope so... Allie had also addressed him as such, so it was fine. Probably. Yes.

"It is--I believe a special order...?" This last she added hopefully. Her impression had been that their errand was inspection and pick-up, not selection. Perhaps she should have clarified with Matron, but it had seemed so much more straightforward before they left. All she had written for her was the address. At the time this had struck her as normal, sensible even, but now she desperately wished for more instruction that mere memory could be relied upon to provide.

[Alethea Fairburn]

Alethea was fairly sure it was immediately written all over her face exactly how much she would appreciate having some water. Such a basic thing, and in this moment, she realized she would probably willingly commit murder for it. But thankfully, she didn't need to! it was being offered to her, and she had no reservations nor desire to be polite. The man was not a threat, so far as she could tell. This was unlikely to be a game that ended in them being punished for accepting an offer.

"That would be much appreciated." Alethea said quickly.

It was perhaps dangerous that now two people were treating her like a person and not like she was something to be afraid of. If she wasn't careful, she'd get used to it. Though, again, there was no reason this man would ever be afraid of her.