#teatimescones

[irish-emerald]

@teatimescones

Ena really did not want to go to London with her boss. He thought it would be a good idea to take her with him to the place she just escaped from.

She had just gain her independence last year and her boss wanted to discuss trade with Arthur's boss. Why she had to come while he discussed this she'll never know.

So here she was, sitting in a empty conference room with Arthur while both of their bosses discussed trade in the next room over. She mostly was looking out the window trying to avoid looking at Arthur.

[gebrochener-adler]

A plethora of pastries

@teatimescones

“I am loathe to admit I may have been somewhat overzealous in attempting new recipes.” That was a little bit of an understatement considering that he was staring at around twenty individual pies, cakes, and apple strudels in boxes on the table. He had brought them to a meeting in some small hope that someone would eat them. Wasting food would not do. Perhaps if all failed here, he could find a homeless shelter or some other charitable venture to give them to.

[luckyno4-blog]

📂

send “📂“ for a random, yet completely useless headcanon i have

He has a stuffed panda dressed in a blue duffel coat, red hat, and wellingtons.

Its name is Pandington Bear

[paralianprince]

@teatimescones

He’d meant to go up and knock, really.  He would swear on his name that he’d meant all along to head right up to the cottage door and tap out a pleasant tune with all the politeness and manners he could muster up (which, in the interest of being honest, is not a great many, but still far more than what one might expect from looking at him).

But every passing minute, something else from the lovely garden would catch his eye-- cranesbill and violets and summer snowflakes, dorset heath and cuckoo flowers, onwards and further on still.  Peter knows not a single one by name, of course, except maybe violets, and even that would be mostly a guess.

All the way around the garden once, and then again he went, stopping every few steps to feel the textures of different petals, or offer handshakes to the ivy leaves.  (But he never takes a single one, not even by accident.  It would be rude to, and besides, he’s read enough fairy tales to know never to go plucking someone else’s flowers.)

Of course, it’s just as rude to arrive for an unannounced visit and then not even have the decency to approach the door, instead spending upwards of an hour wandering around someone’s garden without their knowing, but, ‘win some and lose some’, as it goes.

[haknam]

@teatimescones wanted a starter!

Y’know, if you don’t wanna get your wallet stolen, you should keep it like... tethered to a belt loop, old man. 

(Oho? What’s that in Shihong’s hand? It’s Arthur’s wallet!) 

[kriegisms]

@teatimescones

The camp below was setting in for the time being, horses being put up, shelters and amenities being pulled off carts and set up. The other three Horsemen were stalking through the rows, unsettling as they were. Not so much what they stood for, those in the Legion were used to what they were. But the deformed grotesqueties that were both riders and steeds still startled some of the newer recruits, even if the mythical disasters didn’t think passed movement unless told.

Than again, the hivemind for them was an unpredictable force of nature herself, resting on the specially-crafted saddle over her own grand beast of a stallion and overlooking the events below her.

Bucephalus was snuffling around, the massive black horse snorting out snacks for himself in terms of vermin sneaking around in the grasses. He was lethargically moving along, taking slow steps so long as he wasn’t stopped. Given that his progress was fairly linear, War saw no need to actually halt him or change his course.

Once or twice, the stallion parted jaws and snapped, pulling up with something furry or scaly in his horrific fanged jaws, snarling as he chewed and ground and skewered before gulping down his prizes. He was hunting again in similar fashion when something bigger moved nearby. Something small and white and moving fast. He veered off his course, head lowered to try and track it like a stalking cat before trotting forward, red eyes locked on whatever it was.

The sudden detour and shift in behaviour caused War to pull the reins back, giving only a cursory glance toward the vile horse-beast’s target. She saw more of it, the tuft of hair on its head and the flutter of a little white dress or robe. It was humanoid, for sure, and though under normal circumstances she wouldn’t think twice about letting the immense war charger eat it, this was downtime.

The tension in the reins pulled through the directional rings on the neck cuff around the horse’s neck, giving his rider extra leverage to control his head, pulling it back and causing him to skid to a stop and raise it. Jaws were already parted in a frustrated roar, the needle-like fangs in top and bottom jaws on display as he tossed and stomped, but did little to fully pull. Which he very likely could do and regain control; War was not a small woman and the neck alone on the monster-horse dwarfed her. There were other powers at work here for her to control the beast.

Bucephalus was swung around, the thudding of his hooves making the immediate ground quiver. Once she had him facing back forward with his head pulled back and restrained, she looked toward where the little creature had gone.

“You do not need to worry. He cannot eat you now.” she called, low almost melodic voice deceptively comforting. Though the thought of a horse eating a human being was rarely very comforting, but...

[landforces-archived]

@teatimescones liked for a starter

“Yes. Yes, I heard it at the first time. It doesn’t mean I have to agree with you.”

“I am sure you know that repeating something relentless will not change my mind, too.” 

[iolondinium]

“I’m just a little cold, I’m okay, really. Let me sit with a blanket or something.”

Charles’ townhouse was very old and very large, tall-ceilinged and draughty. Even though it was fully ventilated with a modern central heating system, it remained difficult to keep warm. 

It did not bother him. Charles had grown accustomed to cold. He had learnt to accept it long ago, to the point where he now embraced it. Over time, the cold had become a second skin to him in a way; more consoling than heat or even warmth. After all, for as long as he could remember, his most destructive enemy has been fire.

This was the reason he refused to light the fireplace despite Arthur’s indirect complaints. He did understand England’s position, temperatures had dropped drastically over the last few days, and Arthur tended to suffer the brunt of it a fair bit more than him, but a fire was simply out of the question. Lately, Charles had gone so far as to completely ban domestic wood burning from every household within his vicinity. If anything, it helped him rest easier at night.

“I’ll retrieve a blanket from the guest room.” He could offer this, at least. “And get Miriam to make you some tea. This should help warm you a tad.”