☼ RUTH OF HOUSE IESHAN ☼רות
"I heard the incessant dissolving of silk— / I felt my heart growing so old in real time. / Her heart must be ash where her body lies burned. / What hope lets your hands rake the cold in real time? / Now Friend, the Belovèd has stolen your words— / Read slowly: The plot will unfold in real time."
"I heard the incessant dissolving of silk— / I felt my heart growing so old in real time. / Her heart must be ash where her body lies burned. / What hope lets your hands rake the cold in real time? / Now Friend, the Belovèd has stolen your words— / Read slowly: The plot will unfold in real time."
Hagar smiles at me, gentle-sweet, and she extends some of that precious silk she is working with. I take the fabric and follow her towards the cobbled-together booth that she is setting up in a particularly secluded part of the courtyard, my eyes trained on her as we walk. She informs me that she is setting up a game of truth or dare for the party tonight, with Pilate’s approval.
(It sounds like them.)
“Ah,” I say. “I’m sure he’s right.” That is not strictly true or false. It seems like the sort of party game that guests would enjoy, particularly with alcohol in their systems – but it is the host who makes me wonder about how well this will go over for the participants. I’m not sure that it will be fun for the people involved. Hagar has always had a way of getting what she wants – I’m not sure how, but I have my suspicions. (But I don’t like trouble, so, like all of my suspicions about all of my siblings, I never put words to them, never give them more substance than a lingering doubt in the back of my mind; I turn my head, and I look away. I live my life by keeping my eyes closed.)
She asks me what I am doing, then.
“On lunch, technically,” I say, with a faint - very faint – shrug of my shoulders, “but I’m supposed to take the rest of the day off for the party.” Which means I have plenty of work left to do, technically. Solterran parties are always at least a bit of a mess, and no amount of careful planning on Pilate’s part can prevent that. There’s almost sure to be a few cases of alcohol poisoning, and, at any Solterran event, I can’t rule out the possibility of a case or two of the more ordinary variety of poisoning. At least a few foreigners will be struggling from some form or another of heat-sickness, and someone will have an undiagnosed allergy to something that we’re serving at the buffet, and someone will certainly stumble while dancing and injure themselves in the process, which is liable to turn into a bloodbath if we have any carnivorous attendees. Arguably, my stint this morning was less work than this evening might be, particularly since I am sure I’ll have to try to look the part of a proper Ieshan as well; at least all of the patients were in one place.
Still. Beyond making sure that I have a first-aid kit in my room (and I always have a first-aid kit in my room), there is not much I can do to prepare for the party, and idling puts my teeth on edge. I don’t like many things – but I like the gratification that comes from being useful. I suspect it is why I enjoy my job, in spite of its long hours and gory work. “Would you like some help?” Technically, I am already helping her; but further instructions would be useful.
(Besides. Hagar is the artist of the family – I don’t have one-half of her vision.)
@Hagar || <3 || agha shahid ali, ghazal
(It sounds like them.)
“Ah,” I say. “I’m sure he’s right.” That is not strictly true or false. It seems like the sort of party game that guests would enjoy, particularly with alcohol in their systems – but it is the host who makes me wonder about how well this will go over for the participants. I’m not sure that it will be fun for the people involved. Hagar has always had a way of getting what she wants – I’m not sure how, but I have my suspicions. (But I don’t like trouble, so, like all of my suspicions about all of my siblings, I never put words to them, never give them more substance than a lingering doubt in the back of my mind; I turn my head, and I look away. I live my life by keeping my eyes closed.)
She asks me what I am doing, then.
“On lunch, technically,” I say, with a faint - very faint – shrug of my shoulders, “but I’m supposed to take the rest of the day off for the party.” Which means I have plenty of work left to do, technically. Solterran parties are always at least a bit of a mess, and no amount of careful planning on Pilate’s part can prevent that. There’s almost sure to be a few cases of alcohol poisoning, and, at any Solterran event, I can’t rule out the possibility of a case or two of the more ordinary variety of poisoning. At least a few foreigners will be struggling from some form or another of heat-sickness, and someone will have an undiagnosed allergy to something that we’re serving at the buffet, and someone will certainly stumble while dancing and injure themselves in the process, which is liable to turn into a bloodbath if we have any carnivorous attendees. Arguably, my stint this morning was less work than this evening might be, particularly since I am sure I’ll have to try to look the part of a proper Ieshan as well; at least all of the patients were in one place.
Still. Beyond making sure that I have a first-aid kit in my room (and I always have a first-aid kit in my room), there is not much I can do to prepare for the party, and idling puts my teeth on edge. I don’t like many things – but I like the gratification that comes from being useful. I suspect it is why I enjoy my job, in spite of its long hours and gory work. “Would you like some help?” Technically, I am already helping her; but further instructions would be useful.
(Besides. Hagar is the artist of the family – I don’t have one-half of her vision.)
@
HE FEEDS ME RED MEAT / HE WATCHES THE BLOOD POOL IN MY MOUTHlaughs at my red teeth❂please tag Ruth! contact is encouraged, short of violence
