I cut this snippet out of one of my D&F fics because it was just a list of Verity's birthday presents.
The offerings were mostly as she had predicted, and she felt well satisfied to know that her dearest friends knew her so well. Constance and Zarad both sent spiced Corvali chocolates, of the kind she'd always secretly had a taste for. Avalie sent sachets of a special tea blend with a delicate smell quite unlike the blends she was used to. Lisle and Penelope collaborated to send her a three-volume novel that had recently caused some uproar in Everkeep court. Cordelia sent a beautiful steel pen, its bone handle shaped into the subtle suggestion of a swan's neck and wing. Emmett sent a box of candied rose petals. Lyon had managed to find somewhere an old copy of Maithe's history of the Arland-Jiyel wars, annotated in faded handwriting. Hamin sent a bracelet strung from beads of sea glass, catching the sunlight in many mismatched colors.
Her family's gifts were equally predictable. Her parents sent a very formal letter and a silver hair comb marked with her initials in ornate, scrolling capitals, while her brother Dion had included a small bag of the palace cook's prized sugar plums. Her grandparents on her mother's side sent two books, though neither of them was the Onvu manual she had banked on, and her father's mother sent only a letter promising a pair of heirloom diamond earrings, which of course could not be sent by ship, but must arrive by trusted courier. The only real surprise was the gift from Princess Prudence, a cousin of her father's with whom she'd never had any personal contact. as it came attached to Hamin's gift, she didn't have to rely on her knowledge of forbidden genealogy to realize that this was Cordelia's mother. Not being subject to the restrictions of propriety, she didn't scruple to gift her cousin a small pocket knife, the handle and matching sheath figured in the best Wellish leatherwork.
I’ve been busy with the holiday cooking and we’re closer to next WIP Wednesday than last, but @paraparadigm tagged me (in this post) and I realized that I do have something juicy to share.
She leaned back in her seat, stretching out her arms to either side. "Looks pretty bad, down there. I'm just going to have to do something about it, I suppose."
"Corinne," said Vorstag gravely, "this is not a problem that will be easy for you to solve. It's not like killing draugr."
"I'm sorry," said Corinne, side-eyeing him. "I thought I just heard you say that killing draugr is easy."
"That's not--" he started, and paused to accept a fresh bottle of mead from one of the serving girls. "Kenna, Aeleigh."
She watched the two's interaction curiously. When the maid left, she said, "I didn't know you spoke the old Reach tongue, Vorstag."
"Only a little," he said, shrugging. "Hardly anyone is fluent in it, anymore, but my grandfather used to say that it was closer to old Nedic than any living language."
"Can I ask you something?" she asked after a moment's hesitation.
"Anything I can answer," said Vorstag.
Corinne chewed her lip. "Have you ever heard the word Cidhnabhar?"
Still polishing chapter 68, so no update this week. Have a teaser from a far-off scene, instead:
The older man raised a bushy eyebrow, scanning him up and down. "And what about you, young man? Are you in the business of bringing about Skyrim's next generation, hmm? Or too busy with politicking?"
The unknown combatant would make themselves known, soon enough. If it was another enemy, he would deal with them when -- if -- he managed to defeat this one.
The house was hers, of course. It was settled on her as part of Quentin’s will, an arrangement that had been set into the terms of their marriage contract, over a decade ago. Unlike the Dawnview family’s ancestral estate, Allegra could say that the townhouse was hers and hers alone, and so felt no compunctions in settling into it with her second husband. That meant that when she was staying in the capital, as she was now, her routine was not much different than it had been during her years as a scandalous widow. She kept her same bedroom, with the same things in it. Her dressing table and looking glass were in the same place, set to catch the light of the same west-facing window.
Allegra sat at that dressing table now, putting the last touches on her hair and makeup. She examined herself critically in the mirror. Though she’d never been accused of being any great beauty, it was still a point of pride to never leave her home looking less than put-together, however mundane the occasion. And today was hardly a mundane occasion.
“You look perfect,” said Clarmont, coming up from behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Stop fretting.”
“I’m not fretting,” replied Allegra. “I’m perfectly calm, in fact.”
She turned her back on the mirror and got up, smoothing her skirt with her fingertips. Everything was perfect. Not a stitch out of place.
“Of course,” said Clarmont with a smile. “Why wouldn’t you be calm? You deserve this position. There’s no one more qualified.”
Allegra regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “No one more qualified?” she asked. “It’s the national treasury. I’ve never managed a purse larger than Namaire’s annual income.”
“You’re brilliant with money, and a natural head for numbers,” he argued back. “And Lady Bianca put you up herself. She said she wanted someone hardheaded and down-to-earth. I’ve never met anyone who fits that description better.”
“What you mean,” said Allegra, a smile creeping onto her own face, “is that I was chosen because all other possible candidates were loyal to the previous regime.”
“And corrupt to the bone,” added her husband, deadpan. “They chose you because they trust you. The council will ratify. You’re their best possible choice, and you’ll do a brilliant job.”
Allegra sighed. “I hope so,” she said wistfully. “I wish I weren’t entering into the position starting from the most difficult task. The debt to the imperial bank is so much larger than our worst imaginings.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you talk the Corvali ambassador around. He’ll agree to a payment plan. He knows that if the throne doesn’t hold steady, that gold is as good as gone.”
She sighed again. “Well, that’s certainly true,” she admitted. “At least there’s no chance that Hsi Imperial Pompousness will try to recoup the debt through piracy.”
Clarmont laughed softly. “Very little odds of that,” he agreed. “Do you feel more confident?”
“As much as I ever will,” replied Allegra, “until I get my hands on the books. I’d better ring for the servants to bring the carriage around. It wouldn’t do to be late.”
“Do you want me to come and meet you at the palace, after the meeting is done?” asked her husband.
Allegra shook her head. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“How about a kiss for good luck?” he offered.
She smiled up at him, resting her hand on his chest. “Didn’t you once tell me that I didn’t need luck?”
“Just a kiss, then,” he replied.
He pressed his hand over hers on his chest, and then lifted it to his lips, kissing the heel of her palm. She shook his hand loose and instead, wound her arms around his neck, leaning against him, his solid weight warm and comforting. They stayed that way, standing quietly together until a knock on the door interrupted them.
Allegra sighed and reluctantly pulled back. “That would be the carriage,” she said. “I’d better go. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
(six sentence sunday by @ao3commentoftheday ; banner by @purpleyin)
She read the letter quickly and then sat staring at it for a time, before reading it again, slowly and thoroughly. There was no mistaking it, the news was improbably good. It was also too significant to be treated as a private matter, however much she wanted to hold the information close to her chest, like a beloved childhood toy. No, the Queen would have to be notified at once, and Gisette, too. Once the royal women were in the loop, Verity could discuss the matter in depth with Petra.
"Because," said Verity with a heavy sigh, "a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing."
And, because I've been working on it this week, something from the later chapters of "Blood from Stone":
Not suspicious at all, especially when the cloaked figure lumbered away with its head ducked to hide its face, its awkward gait showing all the signs of someone used to stretching their tail out for balance.
