crystal.

[elegiaque]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Gwenaëlle Baudin
RECIPIENT: You lot.

( this might be the soonest that she's ever begun a crystal message for the gallows after having done one within a month or so. gwenaëlle's voice, again, briskly businesslike: )

Before we all fuck off to parts unknown, if you're within a few inches of my height and happen to wear mostly or ever dresses, and you're in need of something suitable to wear out in the cities, I am clearing a great deal of my old wardrobe. I can help with on the spot alterations, but anything that's going to need to be properly taken apart for you will obviously have to wait.

If you don't need a dress to look presentable in Nevarra City and you just want to rifle through my old clothes for something you might like, that's also fine. I'm doing my prep before we leave, and if I'm not on the boat, Guilfoyle will be. He's a dab hand with a needle.

( on the boat, a profusion of mostly creamy, neutral fabrics have taken over the gallery that opens out from her entrance hall: sorted loosely by styles, fabrics, colours, patterns, the cushions that usually occupy the space shunted into a corner, some dresses that need hanging put up over the top of the art that hangs between the wide windows. there are shoes, some placed with the dresses they were bought to match, others just lined up along the narrow walkaway that rings the room around the conversation pit; several grand hats, a few cloaks and coats.

some of it will be familiar, if you've been here for long enough, but she suspects most of the probable handful people who might be interested won't have been; will not recognise her in the things she is giving away. )

Comments

[undergrunn]

( It’s true, and Abella’s laugh says as much. )

Mm. It’s interesting how different our worlds are. You know, there are construction features here that would seem more at home in a historical era from home, and then there’s so many social elements from home that would seem archaic here, just from what I’ve seen in the past month. I can’t imagine how patient people here have had to be just dealing with culture shock.

What I’m trying to say is I’m pretty excited about trousers.

[elegiaque]

I don't know if you've noticed, it's a mixed bag on patience.

( too soon to make that joke? nah, )

Trousers, though— mm, once you've got the fabric, I can tailor those.

[undergrunn]

( Abella laughs, even as she insists. )

Really, though!

We’re given immediate access to communications and resources, are not imprisoned, and have only a brief quarantine. That’s better than people from another world would get at home.

I mean, my world is in a time of war too, and I’m pretty sure that a weird risk to intelligence and security wouldn’t even get a chance to talk about wardrobe choices. “Patient” might not be the right word, but it’s a pretty good one.

( She’s not going to say “they’d be almost definitely executed on sight” and bring the mood down when they’re talking about such lighthearted things, but also… Gwenaëlle’s smart, she can probably imagine the alternatives. )

[elegiaque]

( it had been lady gwenaëlle "i don't think rifters are grateful enough for not being executed on arrival" vauquelin, merci beaucoup—

it's not tough for her to envision something she'd come close to arguing in favour of, once upon a time. it is still a bit bleak, the incisively flippant way she says, )

If we were going to handle it differently, the time for that was nearly a decade ago.

Ultimately, though, wherever you came from, the body you have now belongs here. I think that makes it your home in a way that should matter — if not to you, personally, then factually in terms of how you're treated.

[undergrunn]

Mm.

( She’ll need to have a quiet meltdown about “the body you have now”; it can wait, for now. )

Well, I appreciate it, regardless. We’re lucky. And I get to have amazing trousers.