“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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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.