Obsidian Scales

It's half an hour before the Scrolls and Scales bookstore closes for the day. He's tasked himself with pulling books from the shelves for orders to be completed the next day. He catches sight of one of his newly hired employees, recalling something he might have seen earlier.

"Elsbeth. A moment, please?" His tone is calm as he catchers her attention, pausing in his task face her as he speaks again.

"I promise you're not in any trouble, but I am rather curious..." He should just get to the point.

"How did you keep it from falling? Not physically, from what I saw?" He leans a bit closer to her, hoping that he's not coming across as being nosy.

"Did you use some sort of magic to save it?" His tone and expression are curious. And perhaps a tad calculating as well.

-

Horror and chagrin flashed across her expression in successive waves, and the set of her shoulders tensed uncomfortably. It was the most unguarded he'd seen since she'd started working here, and with visible effort, she attempted to tame the embarrassed grimace into something more neutral.

"So... you did see that." She certainly didn't sound happy that he had, and she twined fingers into the fabric of her skirt, tugging uneasily in her discomfort. Indeed, he could have easily missed the incident; on her first day, she'd brushed past the teapot and her elbow had caught on its ornate handle, sending it and its lid careening toward the wood floor. Under any other circumstances, the ceramic would have ended up in scattered pieces, but Elsbeth had thrust out a hand in desperation, and right before the expected impact, vessel and lid instead halted inches from the floor, hanging suspended as though by wires, before gently settling on the wood, intact and unharmed.

"I just... cushioned it a little," she said apologetically. "It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and I'm sure it was priceless, and I had to make a decision fast..."

“I did. Rather impressive, if that helps.”

One ebony brow raised in response to her words. He could understand that she seemed quite nervous talking about what she’d done. There were plenty of people just as secretive about themselves. Himself included.

Still...

“You just...cushioned it a little?” To say he didn’t believe her was putting it lightly. 

“If you’re worried about your job, don’t be. Far be it from me to fire someone from using magic to help.” A reassuring smile replaces the doubtful look. Or at least he hopes that’s what it looks like. 

"I'm sure this must be a bit uncomfortable to you. To speak about, I mean." After all he's got a few of his own secrets he'd like to keep like that. As secret as possible.

"I didn't mean to out you like this and for that I apologize." He shifted his weight to one side, canting his head to one side.

It's half an hour before the Scrolls and Scales bookstore closes for the day. He's tasked himself with pulling books from the shelves for orders to be completed the next day. He catches sight of one of his newly hired employees, recalling something he might have seen earlier.

"Elsbeth. A moment, please?" His tone is calm as he catchers her attention, pausing in his task face her as he speaks again.

"I promise you're not in any trouble, but I am rather curious..." He should just get to the point.

"How did you keep it from falling? Not physically, from what I saw?" He leans a bit closer to her, hoping that he's not coming across as being nosy.

"Did you use some sort of magic to save it?" His tone and expression are curious. And perhaps a tad calculating as well.

-

Horror and chagrin flashed across her expression in successive waves, and the set of her shoulders tensed uncomfortably. It was the most unguarded he'd seen since she'd started working here, and with visible effort, she attempted to tame the embarrassed grimace into something more neutral.

"So... you did see that." She certainly didn't sound happy that he had, and she twined fingers into the fabric of her skirt, tugging uneasily in her discomfort. Indeed, he could have easily missed the incident; on her first day, she'd brushed past the teapot and her elbow had caught on its ornate handle, sending it and its lid careening toward the wood floor. Under any other circumstances, the ceramic would have ended up in scattered pieces, but Elsbeth had thrust out a hand in desperation, and right before the expected impact, vessel and lid instead halted inches from the floor, hanging suspended as though by wires, before gently settling on the wood, intact and unharmed.

"I just... cushioned it a little," she said apologetically. "It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and I'm sure it was priceless, and I had to make a decision fast..."

“I did. Rather impressive, if that helps.”

One ebony brow raised in response to her words. He could understand that she seemed quite nervous talking about what she’d done. There were plenty of people just as secretive about themselves. Himself included.

Still...

“You just...cushioned it a little?” To say he didn’t believe her was putting it lightly. 

“If you’re worried about your job, don’t be. Far be it from me to fire someone from using magic to help.” A reassuring smile replaces the doubtful look. Or at least he hopes that’s what it looks like. 

It's half an hour before the Scrolls and Scales bookstore closes for the day. He's tasked himself with pulling books from the shelves for orders to be completed the next day. He catches sight of one of his newly hired employees, recalling something he might have seen earlier.

"Elsbeth. A moment, please?" His tone is calm as he catchers her attention, pausing in his task face her as he speaks again.

"Not at all. Just a simple request. We'll call it...professional curiosity," he responded with a wave of his hand.

"I'll leave you to your task, so don't mind me too much." He turns back to the shelf to survey the books once more, grabbing the last one he needed and adding it to pile on his cart.

Carefully, she hefts up the stack of books, slipping the topmost paperback into its alphabetical place on the shelf and taking great care to avoid the antique tea set sitting on the table nearby.

"I do apologize for having you stay behind to speak with me." He hopes he isn't coming across as threatening.

"The tea set sitting over on the table," he starts, gesturing to where it's settled safely on one of the small display tables.

"I promise your not in any trouble, but I am rather curious..." He should just get to the point.

"How did you keep it from falling? Not physically, from what I saw?" He leans a bit closer to her, hoping that he's not coming across as being nosy.

It's half an hour before the Scrolls and Scales bookstore closes for the day. He's tasked himself with pulling books from the shelves for orders to be completed the next day. He catches sight of one of his newly hired employees, recalling something he might have seen earlier.

"Elsbeth. A moment, please?" His tone is calm as he catchers her attention, pausing in his task face her as he speaks again.

"Not at all. Just a simple request. We'll call it...professional curiosity," he responded with a wave of his hand.

"I'll leave you to your task, so don't mind me too much." He turns back to the shelf to survey the books once more, grabbing the last one he needed and adding it to pile on his cart.

@bloodoftheemperor

“Of course. We have quite the variety here, if I say so myself. Of a range of different subjects as well,” he speaks, gesturing at the bookshelves all over the store.

Howl’s surprise doesn’t take him aback. His sullen, dark appearance doesn’t exactly scream ‘baker’ after all. Not to mention he’s not exactly the most…friendly of people, the rumors about him aside.

He taps a fingernail against his lips thoughtfully, frowning.

“Perhaps not a bakery. A restaurant would be better. Something with a bit more…variety than just baked goods.” He focuses back on Howl, canting his head to one side.

“Not often. When the mood strike I find myself baking small things. Breads, cookies, smaller pastries. I don’t really have anyone to share them with were I to make larger batches.” Another pause.

“Unless you might be interested in being a…test subject? Or rather a taste tester.” As far as he knows, he can’t think of anyone else that would volunteer for such a task with his reputation.

“I have been wanting to try several cake and pie recipes for some time.”

t̲e̲s̲t̲ ̲ ̲s̲u̲b̲j̲e̲c̲t̲  ?   well,    that  was  certainly  an  interesting  way  of  putting  it.    howl  wished  for  nothing  of  the  sort,    &.    would  rather  have  fled  a  thousand  miles  than  to  be  called  anything  like  that.    although  he  didn't  e̲a̲t̲  much,    he  still  found  interest  in  trying  whatever  yue  made.

“Apologies. Test subject was not the phrase I wished to use. I would be experiment with food, not...well, you understand my point, I hope.” He can’t imagine anyone would be comfortable with being a test subject. For anything. So he could understand Howl’s discomfort.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression cool.

“Better than how you’ve imagined? I hope you weren’t imagining my cooking being inedible lumps of coal.” He’s been cooking for years too long to ever be that terrible at cooking. 

featuring Fowler and his slightly disappointed father 

hey guys heres some more dragons with their heads stuck in things

It took some time for most of the flush to his features to disappear. Surely that was the end to Geralt’s prodding on his interests. Hopefully. Though the knowing look shot at him doesn’t seem to point that way. 

Giving him a break then. He’d take it.

He’s understanding, if a little disappointed, when Geralt doesn’t reveal much, or anything at all, of his own proclivities.

“Ah. More Witcher secrets? I can yield to that then.” He’s suspicious of Geralt’s vague words, but no more than playfully so. 

“I do have another question, however. Why is your horse named ‘Roach’?” he asked, tone and expression confused.

“Seems rather…mean to name such a well cared for mare after a pest.”

 he  would  allow  the  elf  to  believe  they  were  witcher  secrets  for  however  long  he  could    ,    even  if  part  of  him  believed  that  yue  didn’t  actually  think  they  were  specialised  secrets  at  all    .    he  would  be  correct    ,    in  that  case    .    the  witcher  did  not  believe  describing  any  of  his  proclivities  or  escapades  would  yield  anything  productive  out  of  either  of  them    .    besides    ,    he  had  more  important  matters  to  speak  of    .

 like    ,    for  instance    ,    the  naming  of  his  horse    .    horses            for  he  named  every  mare  he  rode  ‘roach’  and  never  strayed  from  it  once  in  his  entire  life    .

Still...

His companion’s answer earned a slow, almost disbelieving blink from the elf.

“So...instead of naming her after an insect, you named her after a fish.” He stared at Geralt for a moment, searching to really see whether he was joking or not.

“Honestly, I’m not certain if that’s any better.” He turned his attention to the mare in question, patting her muzzle gently.