Emmrich watches the cat and Manfred, ready to intervene if his companion gets overwhelmed or confused. The spirit hasn't been much exposed to animals, living or otherwise. Manfred twists and turns, seemingly entertained by the cat chasing the cloak and keeping it just out of reach.
"Pure competition?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. He fully understands getting attached to company, though he feels like Manfred is quite a bit more than a pet.
He finishes his cup and puts it back on the tray, glancing back over at where now Manfred is climbing on the desk, followed by the cat skeleton.
"Careful, Manfred." The spirit didn't have others to play with a majority of the time, and Emmrich wonders if that's something he should work on. The crafted cat might be a good introduction to a great many activities. It's worth consideration. "We don't want to delay our meeting-up with Rift Watch because we need repairs. Speaking of, if you're done with your tea I'll wash up and we can set out?"
“I might’ve talked a bit of shit about someone’s pet project,” pun intended, “until simply the only thing left to do was put my money where my mouth was and do better.”
It scarcely even needs asked if she had done. Just look at her pride and joy over there, raccoon bones and human vertebrae and all, gleefully snagging the edge of Manfred’s cloak with a soaring pounce— only to go scrabbling across the table with a hideous grinding sound of delight, halfway between a graveyard groan and a cat’s chirrup.
“Attaboy,” loyally, even as she begins to rise at Emmrich’s prompting. She offers him her mostly emptied cup, but, “Here to me,” must be for Nuggalope, who rights himself and hurries to harry her ankles, stretching up on his hind legs against her calf in an effort to be picked up instead of put back in his box.
Once he’s ensconced amongst the peacock feathers that edge the remarkable lapels of her jacket — impressive for how they’ve not displayed more of her than they already do — she says, “My sister’s admired your work for years,” conversationally. “Athaliah Tavarys.”
Her work is respectable, quiet, consistent; she’s earned her own reputation for excellence, even if it’s more often than not overshadowed by her older sister’s bigger swings (the better and the worse). If Athaliah were the only Tavarys, she’d probably experience her time in the Mourn Watch differently than she does as the younger of two.
“I’m looking forward to getting the opportunity to pick your brain, myself.”
If he was more familiar with her, he might have rolled his eyes or groaned at the 'pet project' pun. As it is he acts like he hadn't noticed it and simply nods - she clearly had done well with this creation. Despite its desperate parts, it functions like one whole. Not only that, it behaves, more or less. Nuggalope is an impressive creation.
Emmrich quickly washes up and puts things away.
"Athaliah," he repeats, cheerfully. "I'm familiar with her work as well. She's quite competent." Which is, for him, a high compliment. "I would be more familiar with the younger members of the Mourn Watch as well, but I have been distracted of late."
He steps out of the kitchen alcove and takes one last look around as Manfred slowly layers on the clothing that will make him look like he's just a child about with his father at first glance, at least.
Everything is in order. It's time. Emmrich is suddenly nervous; this has been his home for the whole of his adult life, and leaving it, if only for a temporary assignment, feels momentous. His expression flickers through the many things he's feeling -- nerves, anticipation, guilt, excitement -- and then settles back into cheerful.
"I look forward to the picking, Athénaïs, and likely will be picking yours in return. I haven't spent a great deal of time outside Nevarra." Emmrich pulls on his jacket as he talks, puts on his backpack, and nods before holding out an arm for her to take if she wants. "Manfred?"
The skeleton hisses happily and puts both suitcases on a dolly. They're ready to depart.
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corpsestuff) wrote2025-01-19 08:22 pm
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"Pure competition?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. He fully understands getting attached to company, though he feels like Manfred is quite a bit more than a pet.
He finishes his cup and puts it back on the tray, glancing back over at where now Manfred is climbing on the desk, followed by the cat skeleton.
"Careful, Manfred." The spirit didn't have others to play with a majority of the time, and Emmrich wonders if that's something he should work on. The crafted cat might be a good introduction to a great many activities. It's worth consideration. "We don't want to delay our meeting-up with Rift Watch because we need repairs. Speaking of, if you're done with your tea I'll wash up and we can set out?"
no subject
It scarcely even needs asked if she had done. Just look at her pride and joy over there, raccoon bones and human vertebrae and all, gleefully snagging the edge of Manfred’s cloak with a soaring pounce— only to go scrabbling across the table with a hideous grinding sound of delight, halfway between a graveyard groan and a cat’s chirrup.
“Attaboy,” loyally, even as she begins to rise at Emmrich’s prompting. She offers him her mostly emptied cup, but, “Here to me,” must be for Nuggalope, who rights himself and hurries to harry her ankles, stretching up on his hind legs against her calf in an effort to be picked up instead of put back in his box.
Once he’s ensconced amongst the peacock feathers that edge the remarkable lapels of her jacket — impressive for how they’ve not displayed more of her than they already do — she says, “My sister’s admired your work for years,” conversationally. “Athaliah Tavarys.”
Her work is respectable, quiet, consistent; she’s earned her own reputation for excellence, even if it’s more often than not overshadowed by her older sister’s bigger swings (the better and the worse). If Athaliah were the only Tavarys, she’d probably experience her time in the Mourn Watch differently than she does as the younger of two.
“I’m looking forward to getting the opportunity to pick your brain, myself.”
no subject
Emmrich quickly washes up and puts things away.
"Athaliah," he repeats, cheerfully. "I'm familiar with her work as well. She's quite competent." Which is, for him, a high compliment. "I would be more familiar with the younger members of the Mourn Watch as well, but I have been distracted of late."
He steps out of the kitchen alcove and takes one last look around as Manfred slowly layers on the clothing that will make him look like he's just a child about with his father at first glance, at least.
Everything is in order. It's time. Emmrich is suddenly nervous; this has been his home for the whole of his adult life, and leaving it, if only for a temporary assignment, feels momentous. His expression flickers through the many things he's feeling -- nerves, anticipation, guilt, excitement -- and then settles back into cheerful.
"I look forward to the picking, Athénaïs, and likely will be picking yours in return. I haven't spent a great deal of time outside Nevarra." Emmrich pulls on his jacket as he talks, puts on his backpack, and nods before holding out an arm for her to take if she wants. "Manfred?"
The skeleton hisses happily and puts both suitcases on a dolly. They're ready to depart.