(no subject)

[mereandrastianism]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Lady Betrys Miniver
RECIPIENT: Everyone
NOTES: let's make fancy name cards a thing

Well. [It's a little breathless, trying wholeheartedly for "pleasant" rather than "still a bit shaken and looking for distraction" and mostly managing it.] Now that that unpleasantness is finished:

Could anyone recommend a reputable source for visiting cards? I'm afraid mine have been out of date since I left Ostwick, and I'd like to ensure the replacements aren't out of step with Kirkwall fashion. Are etchings considered tasteful here? And are visiting hours acceptable when printed on the back? I've never thought much of pre-printed messages--it's rather cold not to write something yourself, isn't it?--but I would like acquaintances to know when I'm at home for visitors.

Any suggestions would be most appreciated.

[Speaking over the crystals still feels decidedly strange to someone accustomed to writing and face-to-face communication. And while she's listened enough to know it doesn't require salutations or a name at the close, it feels rude not to end with anything.]

I leave you with great hope that you are well.

Comments

[bouchonne]

How tasteful are you, typically?

[mereandrastianism]

Quite, I hope.

that was maybe a little too much emotion, yes

[bouchonne]

Ah. Then I cannot help you.

icon picker betraying me like that

[mereandrastianism]

Why, Serah, I should think the head of Diplomacy would be the ideal help under these circumstances.

[coquettish_trees]

[ In a vivacious upper-class Orlesian accent: ]

I am well acquainted with several fine printers, calligraphers, and artists in Hightown and should be well pleased to make introduction according to your desires.

I myself like to keep a variety of styles to choose from according to the nature of my acquaintance—or desired acquaintance—with the recipient. [ with a little mischievous amusement: ] One of them is indeed pre-printed.

[mereandrastianism]

Really. [ Smiling, clearly, and with an accent that's decidedly not Orlesian. ] And what, pray tell, is too important to write out oneself?

[coquettish_trees]

Oh, it has little to do with the importance thereof! It simply does a very fine job of letting the receiver know my invitation to them is—as you said—a bit chill, without me having to do anything so vulgar as being direct.

[mereandrastianism]

I should think the wording of particular importance under those circumstances, Serah.

[propulsion]

What, like a business card?

[mereandrastianism]

Forgive me, Serah. I'm afraid you'll have to tell me what a business card is.

[propulsion]

Got your name on it, your work, contact details. You know Twitter? LinkedIn? Fax number?

[ She does not know those things, which he knows. ]

Professional courtesy. Good branding. What do you use yours for?

[mereandrastianism]

Suppose you've gone to visit a friend and missed them, or you've made a new acquaintance you'd like to see again. You really must have a card to leave--ideally with your name, perhaps the name of your estate, when you can be visited in turn, perhaps a short few words jotted on it.

...In Ostwick, those things are preferred, at least. I'm not sure listing The Gallows gives quite the same impression as Bellester Cliffside.

[coeurdulyon]

I used to have quite the collection of visiting cards, [ He sounds nostalgic, reminiscing about bygone days. ] Though I am unfamiliar with the current fashions. I would be very interested to see how they've changed, if you find yourself perusing and in want of company.

[mereandrastianism]

How kind of you to offer, Serah. May I ask with whom I'm speaking?

[coeurdulyon]

Ser Lucien, à votre service.

[ A beat, presumably for an unseen bow. ]

Ah, but I would not wish to impose; please, do not hesitate to turn me down.

[mereandrastianism]

I'm pleased to meet you, Ser Lucien. Lady Betrys Miniver, of Ostwick.

[ There might be any number of Sers Lucien in the world--no swooning yet. ]

It would be no imposition, but I could hardly take up the offer of an unknown gentleman. At home, the fashion was for one's name and a little etching beside it--if you'll forgive an outdated card, perhaps you might have one to examine.

[bloodandsand]

That's a funny little name. What sort of card goes visiting? And what sort of messages do you write?

[mereandrastianism]

You go visiting. Your card comes with you and stays where you give it away.

What you write upon it depends on who it's been given to.

[bloodandsand]

Oh, that does sound charming! Do you leave one everywhere you visit? I imagine that could be terribly dangerous for discrete visits.

[mereandrastianism]

One generally uses one's best judgment.

[extortionate]

[ with interest: ]

What's cold about it?

[mereandrastianism]

Personally, I think it shows a certain lack of care towards others. If you've made the effort to pay a call, you can take a moment or two to write something down, should the occasion call for it. And should the occasion not call for a message, then a message printed on your card has no real use.

[extortionate]

Suppose so.

But seems more practical than nothing else — not having the right message, and all. Otherwise you can take it forever. If the card's got pictures, why not draw them yourself?

[radicans]

I had wondered if cards were expected, at least for those of us residing in the Gallows. It's not as if we could have callers here, surely?

[mereandrastianism]

It's a little unusual, certainly, but it's such a large space that it should be possible.

Perhaps we could designate a room or two as parlors, for the sake of having a place to receive visitors.