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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | The day after the Battle for the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, the local grim-goths have a brunch of conjured cinnamon rolls and conversation with the local demonic ladies of Aszera and Lena, and the resident sniper, to discuss the particle physics of illusion and conjuring magic, as well as explore the power and fairness of signs, like one does on a late Friday morning. 11k~ words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Melyn
It's approaching the time of day that Miserie Grimlocke will meet and greet the sunshine and be ready for a brunch, and Melancholy is almost running late for it, having distracted herself repeatedly from her tasks of getting dressed and preparing the room for a group.
There are the five chairs already around the table (cleared of all her projects, and covered by a black tablecloth and five sets of silverware, produced from a black bag — prepared!), and she's made sure that the bedroom area is completely blocked from view. The window is open to let in the fresh spring air and the stunning Vale of Eternal Blossoms view of sheetrock.
Melancholy is wearing something closer to her older style, a tight waisted black peplum top with marquisette sheer sleeves, her black lace gloves with a wide black netting and amethysts around the wrists, and a silk and crepe black skirt that can raise up to expose her legs in fishnet tights. She has a little purple hat with two decorative feathers for her lightweight sheer lace veil over her meticulously made up eyes, and a plum stained mouth. The whole thing topped by her perfume, which still lingers in the general air of the room, particularly because she keeps moving through it, making sure that everything is neater than she usually keeps it, and nothing private is on display.
She hesitates yet again on picking up one of Torment's cards — the one that Bryling sent her letter in — to move it to the table, undecided.
The knock on the door is Baird returning from his own room, where he'd gone for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He does not keep Melancholy in suspense but calls, "It's me," and lets himself into the room.
He is damp-haired and smelling freshly of soap, and he's dressed up for the occasion: he wears the tweed trousers and waistcoat Melancholy saw him in at their first sunrise together, on his return from the Seat of Knowledge. He has neither jacket nor cap this morning, and his white shirt is open at the collar, his sleeves rolled and (some of) his tattoos on display.
"Gorgeous Melancholy," he says, and crosses the room to stand behind her and set his hands on her hips. "Can I help with something? You need me to get anything?"
Melancholy watches him with a wide smile, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him. She breathes in slowly, leaning back against him, and one hand goes over his, stroking over his fingers before resting over them.
"Oh, no, no, I got everything that can be done finished. I'm just caught on whether or not there should be something on the table in the center. I do have the vase, but I don't have any flowers for it. I should probably have done, but I didn't think about it until this morning, and now it's too late to send for them unless I was getting the express arcane mail and that's far too expensive for just a little table touch," she says blithely. "I was thinking maybe one of Torment's cards."
She's still smiling at him, looking over his clothes and tattoos and back up to his eyes. "I like your all of it," she tells him, the way he did about her on their picnic.
He flashes her his smile and slides his hands forward to clasp her around the waist. "Just for you," he says. "Your brother's card sounds nice. A family thing for a family breakfast. Is that one of his? I never looked at it. What made him want to make cards?"
"Oh, well, he always loved poetry, like a Grimlocke, and he started working on his own, because as you must imagine, it was his Fate with his name. Poets are almost always tormented, after all," she says brightly. "Then he had the luck to meet a professional poet who steered him straight into the destiny of making cards. It fit with all the pieces he had, you see — he had always wanted to write the kind of poetry that could be felt by nearly anyone reading it, no matter how well they already knew poetry. 'Poetry for the people,' like he calls it. And a card is more functional than only a book of poetry can be, so it doubles in why someone — anyone — might buy it for a purpose, a poem of feeling, and a gift to someone, since the poetry is always meant to be shared."
Melancholy picks it up and there's a clear protective hold on the card against chest before she offers it up to him with a touch of pleading eyes. Do no be unkind to Torment, Bryn, she is trusting you with the precious older brother. "This is one of his, and Bryling sent it with her letter. It was a wonderful sentiment of hers, and I take it that she did like Torment, especially since she says she will take him out for a beer." The word beer is not in verbal quotations exactly, but there's a little emphasis on it, the way someone might do with a foreign word they've learned and rarely have a reason to use.
"Bryling? Sent it?" Baird opens the card and studies the two-line verse within for longer than seems necessary, his gaze intent. After a few moments, he nods thoughtfully. "That's sweet. The meter is interesting. There's sort of a simplicity to it like in pandaren poetry. I wonder if he'd like some pandaren poems?"
"Oh, I thought so, too. I was going to get him a Pandaren Card, but I couldn't find any. I don't know that they make them, and then I got stuck on that step for too long, and didn't write him back. Maybe I could do a little sampler of them, like you did for Woe, which I still need to read one day." Melancholy glances from the card to her desk. "I should write Bryling back soon. I thought I might do it yesterday, but it wasn't really the sort of day I was expecting." She turns more around to look at him more, smiling rather than letting her expression turn from the reminder of not so happy parts of Yesterday. "Oh! Malaise wrote to me, her letter arrived the day Miserie did here! I meant to tell you, and I forgot. I wrote her back straight away."
"I'm happy to hear it," he says. "I know it was a weight on you. She's not mad at you, I'm guessing."
Melancholy shrugs, and her smile fades. "I don't know, to tell the fullest truth. She might be, but she wouldn't have written if it was unforgiveable. So, maybe she's only mad, but there's still reason to hope someday she won't be," she says, not quite managing a light tone. "She's staying back at Sunshine Place. If she's still there in July, you can meet her, too."
He lifts a hand to the back of her neck. "I'd be glad to meet her. I'd be glad to meet any of your family. It's only Torment and Malaise left, isn't it? And your parents? I hope I'll meet all of them."
"Yes, that's right. Oh, well, and Therapuppy, if you want to count dogs," Melancholy says lightly. "Malaise's." She considers, as she turns even more in place, setting her arms over his shoulders. "Do you like dogs? Cats? Pets? On principle, if not in practice aboard a ship."
Baird considers. "I don't know. I like animals on principle. Birds. Otters and gazelles." He flashes a smile. "I like the Shines' tanuki. We never had pets, though. Bryling likes cats. I tried to get her one, once, when we were kids."
Melancholy laughs when he says he likes otters and gazelles, and at least one (1) tanuki. "What stopped you? That is, I mean to ask, what made it only trying?" She has a bright, genuine curiosity at the circumstances that led Bryn Baird to halt before success. "I have a hard time imagining you giving up without a good reason."
"Well," says Baird very seriously, "I did get her a cat, actually. The problem was that it was the cat that belonged to the lady across the street. Also our dad had told us in pretty clear terms that we couldn't have a cat, and it's hard to keep a cat secret from your dad in a two-bedroom apartment. Especially when you don't know exactly what cats like to eat, or what their… toilet habits are." He flashes a rueful smile.
Melancholy laughs again. "Oh. Oh, dear." Her smile lingers, looking at him. "You're a very good big brother."
Baird shrugs genially. "I don't think that's exactly how my dad put it at the time." He smiles crookedly.
There's a hesitant tap tap tap on the door, like someone is knocking with a knuckle instead of a full fist.
Even expected, Melancholy still startles at it, a tiny perceptible jolt and a little laugh accompanying it. She leans forward to kiss Bryn lightly on the lips. "I love you," she tells him. "That's Miserie." (It's the kind of sentence juxtaposition that happens with the Grimlockes.) She moves to step away and go get the door for her sister.
Miserie is there on the other side, dressed in a black skirt that is a little less full than the one she arrived in a few days ago, though it is tiered with ruffles every six inches or so, and a pink top festooned with little black bows. Her hat is positively restrained, a simple black brimmed affair with almost no shimmer of glitter at all.
She carries with her an empty platter, one that looks like it was borrowed from the inn restaurant downstairs. It's empty for the moment, but it probably won't be for long.
"Melancholy," Miserie says brightly as soon as the door opens, leaning forward for cheek air kisses.
Baird drifts toward the window as if to gaze out of it, remembers the sheetrock and decides that would not be very convincing, and moves back toward the table to rest his hands lightly on the back of a chair while he waits for the Sister Greeting Ritual to complete.
Melancholy returns the air kisses like a coordinated ritual she has carefully studied and can reproduce on cue. "Here we are, then," she says with a plum lipped smile as she steps back inside the room to let Miserie in.
Miserie steps in and sets the empty platter on the table as if she's brought food.
Then she beams at Baird. "And Mr. Baird! Good morning. You don't have to do the cheek kisses if you really don't like it. I know I get carried away sometimes."
Baird flashes her a smile, a little flush of color staining his suntanned cheekbones. He steps out from behind the chair — no he was not barricading himself against air kisses, why would he do that? — and offers Miserie his hand. "Good morning, Miss Grimlocke. And thanks. It's just not… an etiquette I'm familiar with, is all."
Melancholy steps around to pluck up the Torment card and more definitively place it on the table, overseeing the empty plate in a blandly ambiguous sunrise/sunset way. She blinks once at the small blush on Bryn's cheek, putting a black gloved hand up to her own cheek.
Miserie reaches out to take his hand. "I'm just always a little bit… me. I can't help it. But I don't mean to let that trample over other people, so I appreciate you saying if it does."
"Nothing wrong with people being a little — or a lot — themselves," Baird says. "But I appreciate it, miss."
Miserie smiles brightly and starts to turn to the table… and sees the card. "OOOoooh, is that one of Torment's?"
"Oh, yes," Melancholy says. "'Friendship has the power to make the days bring / Even in the darkest night." She recites it with the same loving care for the words that she does any other poem. "Bryn's younger sister Bryling sent it along with a letter to me. I thought it might do for a centerpiece, since I don't have many other options — I don't entertain here, really."
"Oh, how sweet! Are Bryling and Torment…" Miserie tilts her head. "Friends, back in Stormwind?"
Baird raises his eyebrows. "I think Bryling — ah, she heard about Melancholy and me, and decided to meet some of Melancholy's family. And she and Torment hit it off." For a given value of hitting it off.
He does not seem to know how to politely address the Implications of Miserie's question and looks at Melancholy.
Melancholy looks like she might just take the question at face value. "I don't know if they're friends yet. I haven't heard back from Torment for his feelings about it," she says. "But I only just wrote to him a few days ago, so that's fair enough."
She considers and in the thought, rereads the question with the pause, and grows visibly more flustered, her fingers fluttering over her cheek. "Ohhh! Are you asking if they might be romantically friendly? I don't know that either, or even less maybe." Of the many things Melancholy is, discreet isn't one of them. Maybe she could get lessons, Shine might suggest from wherever he is, (discreetly).
Baird clears his throat. "Bryling is… I don't know how romantically inclined she is."
"Ah, I see," Miserie says, nodding sagely. "I can understand that. I was just surprised she was sending Torment's cards. But perhaps she just liked his poetry, who can say?"
"I think that's a personal matter, between the two of them, one way or the other, and I'm sure they'll say when they're ready, however it is, of any sort of friendship," Melancholy says, and readjusts Torment's card slightly. She pops a smile at Miserie. "Shall we sit, then? There's really not a tour or anything. It's just the small room."
For a given definition of small.
Melancholy waits, though, for her older sister to sit first.
"Oh, yes, let's," Miserie sits, and raises her hands toward the empty platter. "I was going to make them in advance, but then I thought maybe they're better fresh."
There's a practiced gesture, a sprinkle of arcane, and the plate is full of cinnamon rolls.
Baird belatedly remembers his Officer manners, makes an abortive gesture toward Miserie's chair — oh, she got it — and somewhat sheepishly pulls out Melancholy's chair. "Beg your pardon," he says quietly to Miserie.
Melancholy leans towards him and presses a kiss on his cheek, in a possibly surprising display of personal affection. "It's perfectly fine to only pull out mine for me, because you're attending to me, as my suitor. We Grimlockes aren't so strict in formalities like that, and often just do things for ourselves. I just like it." She sits down delicately, looking back up at Bryn with a plum lipped smile.
"Oh, yes, goodness," Miserie says, blinking. "I don't mean to make you stand on ceremony on my account. I admit I put on airs sometimes, but that's for the fun of it. Like the clothes."
Baird nods, unsmiling. "Okay," he says. "I'm trying to learn." He returns Melancholy's smile belatedly and then sits.
He has not yet asked Miserie thirty-two questions about the cinnamon rolls, which is remarkable restraint on his part.
Melancholy claps her hands, giving the cinnamon rolls their due. She bounces a little forward in her seat. "It's so nostalgic! I can't remember how long it's been," she says. "'While here I stand, not only with the sense / of present pleasure, but with the pleasing thoughts / That in this moment there is life and food/ For future years.'" She begins taking off her right hand glove in preparation.
Miserie just smiles, gesturing a welcome to the cinnamon rolls.
Baird waits for Melancholy to serve herself. Curiosity at last trumps embarrassment, and he clears his throat and asks, "Are they real?"
"In a sense, yes," Miserie says, looking fondly at the cinnamon rolls. "And in a sense no. They do provide nourishment. But also they'll vanish eventually. Ideally, after your body has used the conjured energy."
"It works wonders for a quick restoration of mana, as well — which I couldn't tell before, but I could now. It's like the conjured water you've seen Cressidha hand out. It's not exactly the real thing, but it works in a short term." Melancholy delicately selects a cinnamon roll, and holds a hand underneath as she bites into it, wiggling a little side to side in her seat as she does.
Baird waits a cautious beat to see if Miserie will help herself next, and when she does not, he reaches for one himself. "Do you have to know a recipe for actual cinnamon rolls? Do you just… imagine a cinnamon roll? Is there a specific spell that does cinnamon rolls, kind of like a recipe but magic?"
"The latter yes, a cinnamon roll is a traditional one to teach," Miserie says. "You don't need to know how to bake one truly, but you do need to understand in your mind very clearly what it is, to bring it to reality. It's a practice in imposing order, through mental discipline," She pauses, then adds, "On the reality of it, I've done some studies, trying to improve the nutrients of conjured food, and to see if one can get it to be processed by the body faster. I would like to see better applications in famine conditions."
Melancholy smiles, and takes another bite of her conjured cinnamon roll.
Baird has now forgotten he is holding a cinnamon roll. He is staring intently at Miserie's face, his pale gaze unblinking and possibly disconcerting. "Famine conditions. That would've been helpful a couple've years ago. How do you improve the nutrients? Is it modifications you make to the spell? The way you might use more or less leavening in a real cinnamon roll?"
"I've tried to study how things are taken up in the body, how fast they run through," Miserie says. "That's why I work with breads and sweets mostly — they process faster, so you get more from them before they vanish. As for nutrients, that's a whole thing of learning what a body needs each day, trying to use that to tweak the arcane recipe. I do think I can make things a little healthier now, but making them longer lasting hasn't really panned out. It's a difficult puzzle, and I wish I could've solved it a few years ago. I hope to one day."
Baird nods, still staring.
He remembers he is holding a cinnamon roll and takes a careful bite of it. "Oh, that's good," he says a moment later, and cannot manage to keep some of the surprise out of his voice. "So can you… you concentrate on breads and sweets, but are there spell-recipes for other things? Can mages conjure… oranges, or salmon?"
Miserie beams at the praise and then focuses on the questions, snagging a roll for herself. "In theory, yes, it could be possible. In practice, the closer you get to nature, the harder it is. It's a matter of… well, arcane being a force of order. Foods with a high degree of order are simpler. A little ironically, summoning something simple would be more complex. A number of breads and baked goods are well-established arcane recipes, so that's what most mages can do."
Melancholy eats her conjured cinnamon roll as she listens to the Big Kids talk about the mechanics of baking foods through the arcane. She licks, and then sucks a little at two of her fingers that got icing on them, because she's not in public, and it's legal here. Immediately, she goes to get another cinnamon roll, and says, quietly, but with her face turned towards Bryn, as always, "Cinnamomum cassia, evergreen tree."
Baird's gaze has gone to Melancholy in time to observe the finger-sucking with the same intensity he was staring at Miserie a moment ago. He flashes her a quicksilver grin at the recollection and then looks back to Miserie. "So they're substantive and nutritious but ephemeral? I don't really understand how conjuring works, whether a thing is real or an illusion or halfway between, or if it's real why it doesn't last."
"Illusion magic is a bit of a separate subdiscipline, though I suppose on some level everything's connected," Miserie says, leaning forward on the table in her enthusiasm. The cinnamon roll makes her fingers realistically sticky where she's squishing it. "Illusion only fools the senses, without there being something genuinely there. In conjuring, the matter — the object — exists, truly. The problem is…"
Miserie frowns, thinking how to formulate the explanation. "There's a natural tendency of the universe to resist the creation of matter and energy. We manipulate the cosmic forces, for instance, but we don't create the energy itself. In the same way, it's extremely difficult to genuinely create something. The way I've heard it explained is, it's a virtual cinnamon roll. We're pushing against the universe with the power of the arcane to create it, and the universe permits it, so long as it undoes itself within a certain amount of time. It's a bit like… it fits in the base level of uncertainty that shrouds existence. A fluctuation that's allowed to happen, but cannot persist."
"The arcane is closer to life, on the cosmic scale, while the fel is closer to death — that's why a warlock's magic does so much with that same principle of conservation of energy through death," Melancholy says lightly, eating more of her cinnamon roll.
"'A fluctuation that's allowed to happen, but cannot persist,'" Baird repeats thoughtfully. "And related to the laws of conservation. Okay." He nods and has another bite of his cinnamon roll. He's still staring in the direction of Miserie's face, but seems to be staring through rather than at her. "'Base level of uncertainty,'" he repeats to himself quietly.
"Mmhmm," Miserie hums brightly. "A while back, mages thought that if you studied enough, you could learn everything there is to know about the universe. I suppose now, part of that is learning how the phase space of what we can't know behaves."
"'The phase space of what we can't know,'" Baird repeats. He nods pensively and resumes eating his cinnamon roll.
There's a faint sound of footsteps in the hall outside, and then a noise at the door. There's a crinkling sound, and a folded piece of parchment is shoved through underneath.
Miserie looks over curiously.
Baird does not react.
Melancholy looks over at the sound, and touches Bryn's arm, turning back to face him before she speaks. "I heard something, by the door, like something sliding under. Oh, I wonder if it's Ally again?" She stands up, still touching his arm. "You don't have to get up, I'll be right back."
He raises his eyebrows and then nods at her. "Okay." He has another bite of the cinnamon roll and then reports matter-of-factly to Miserie, "I'm deaf. Part deaf, not all the way deaf. If I miss something you say when I'm not looking at you, that's why. But Melancholy's good about telling me."
Melancholy gives Bryn a wide smile, as she delicately rises, licking her fingers clean again, before crouching down to inspect what was slid under.
It is a simple letter, in relatively neat handwriting that runs just a little diagonal.
I'm not dead. Aze.
"Oh! It's from Aszera. She says she isn't dead," Melancholy says brightly, louder, turning her head to direct it back towards the others, as she rises back up, and then opens the door to look out into the hallway.
Aze is still there, in the process of walking away. She draws up short when the door opens, and slowly turns to face Melancholy. Aze might have started the day early, or she might just still be up. She's still in her leather armor, and it looks like she's been fighting in it. There's a cobweb in her hair.
"Aszera!" Melancholy calls out.
"Melancholy!" Aze calls back, pausing in the hallway. "Uh… I see you got my letter. I got the message from you all, and I thought… it's nice to know your friends are alive, after a battle like that."
"That's fair, it is," Melancholy agrees. "Are you headed back out, then? Were you just stopping by to drop the note off?"
"No, I was just going…" Aze sounds a little lost for a second. "…somewhere. Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing at all. We've having some brunch — Miserie, Bryn, and myself — and it's conjured cinnamon rolls, so there's always more for more, and we have a fourth place at the table if you're hungry, or would like to take a break for a bit. It would be nice to have your company," Melancholy offers in that sincere way of hers. "But, we would understand if you're busy."
"Brunch? Is it that late?" Aze asks, taking a step toward Melancholy. "Yeah, if you have a place. That'd be nice. Am I dressed alright?"
"It's a come-as-you-are sort of brunch," Melancholy says brightly. "So, you're dressed perfectly. Come on in." She turns back into the room, her face turned towards Bryn as she makes her way back to the table. "Aszera will be joining us for brunch. Miserie, could you make some more cinnamon rolls, please?"
Baird flashes a smile. "Hey, Aszera. Glad you're not dead."
"Oh, certainly," Miserie says, conjuring up another layer on the platter. "Oh, and I can bring some water, if you need some for the sugar."
Aszera follows Melancholy in and flashes a smile in Baird's direction. "You too. And yeah, cinnamon rolls sound great. You all got through the battle alright? I think I was in a different area."
Melancholy sits back in her chair, and her gaze drops to the table to roam chaotically over it, as if she can't find a place for it to land, as she immediately begins to pick at the back of her one remaining glove. She doesn't answer right away, a distant expression on her face.
"It was…" Baird glances at Melancholy. "Yeah," he says. "We got through it. Was a rough one, though." He sets his hand casually on the table near Melancholy.
Melancholy's gaze lights on the movement, and she stops her glove picking to instead pick up Bryn's hand, and she picks up a smile with it. "We got through it," she agrees in an overbright tone. "Sir Atley, Mordecai, Lena, Caspis, Theris, Ally, and oh — what is his name? I have it in here, somewhere, I sometimes forget it immediately." She brushes her other hand through the air, and plucks something. "Shun, that was it. They're also all right."
"We won, so a lot better than some," Aze says, taking a cinnamon roll. "And that's a nice long list of survivors."
Miserie looks on at all the war talk, smiling a little nervously.
"The Prince was there," Baird offers. "And the Celestials."
"Zhi the Harmonious was killed." Melancholy's eyes water with the reminder. "And the pandaren that were guarding the relics. But, Zhao-Jin is dead. Really, truly dead," she adds, and it also has a ring of someone repeating something to hear it out loud, a reassurance. "Leven said he sure of it. So, we won." She gives Aze a plum lipped smile with tear filled eyes.
"Oh, that's good. And Leven lived," Aze says, smiling back at Melancholy. She nods to Baird. "And the Prince and Celestials, pretty sure I would've heard if anything happened to them. All told, came out pretty well. Losses, sure, but it was a battle." She takes a bite of her cinnamon roll. "I haven't really been in long. Couldn't sleep, went up to the wall. Oh, hey, did you get to use the cannon?"
Baird is silent for a time. Maybe he didn't hear the question. "Oh," he says finally. "No. We didn't."
"Ah, that sucks," Aze says, wincing sympathetically and turning more fully toward Baird. Maybe he didn't hear her. "But hey, the war's not over, so maybe you'll get a chance later. Shoot 'em with their own weapon." She takes another bite of cinnamon roll, and then says, "Reminds me — those hand signals you were using. Is that like, a language? Could I learn it? Might be useful next time we're in stealth."
Miserie lights up, and gestures Ready and Behind. "Oooh, yes. I was curious."
Melancholy turns her smile on Bryn, and lightly squeezes his hand.
"Oh," says Baird. "Okay. So — there is a language, a whole language of signs? That deaf people use? I don't know it, though. I only went deaf a few years ago and it's not like I have other people around who know the signs language and can talk to me with it. But in the military we already use hand signs for a lot of stuff, like for stealth missions or whatever. So I just… there's versions of them that we — on the ship, I mean — kind of cobbled together so people could signal me in situations I can't hear."
He repeats the ready sign at Miserie. "That just means 'ready.'"
"Ohhh that makes sense, in context," Miserie nods, repeating it again.
Aze moves her hand in the gesture, a little exaggerated. "Yeah, I can see it would be useful, when talking could get you seen. And, you know, when you can't hear."
"But you can hear now?" Miserie asks, tilting her head. "Is it because it's quiet here, otherwise?"
Baird tilts his head. "I can hear okay on the left. I'm deaf on the right. So if it's quiet, yeah, it's easier, or if I know someone's voice really well so I can kind of pick it out over noise. Otherwise it's best if the person talking to me is standing kind of to my left, or they're looking at me so I can see their mouth." He glances at Melancholy and gives her a quick-flash smile. "I did not know lipstick came in colors like purple or black until I met Melancholy, and it's pretty amazing. For conversation."
Among other things.
Melancholy laughs in delight, and points to her lips, dark plum and smiling. "Like writing in bold print," she adds.
"Ooh, I have plenty of black. I can wear that for the future," Miserie nods. "And that explains the… how you often stand. I sort of just thought it was a fight formation, and you two were so used to fighting the mogu together that it stuck."
"Maybe some of that, too," Aze says with a brief smile. She continues eating her cinnamon roll.
"The other way around," Baird says. "Melancholy's been a help to me in the field out here." He nods toward Aze. "These are nice, yeah?" (He means the cinnamon rolls.)
"Yeah," Aze says, pausing in the eating. "They're delicious." She tilts her head slightly toward Miserie. "Good… uh, conjuring."
Miserie beams, and then turns to perfectly face Baird. "Alright, so what are the other signs you use? How many are there, roughly?"
Melancholy looks at Bryn in surprise at his explanation of her role in the field with him, and there's a touch of color to her pale cheeks. She looks like she might say something, but at the question, she stifles it, her fingers moving over Bryn's.
"There are around fifty," Baird says. "Some of 'em are just numbers and stuff, of course. And there's yes, no." He makes the two signs along with the spoken words.
"Around fifty? I bet we can pick them up quickly," Miserie says, with a friendly smile towards Aze that goes unseen. "Might take some repetition."
Aze signs yes and no, focused on Baird. "This might be harder for me than spoken, but if you make them distinct enough…"
"Oh, I had a thought on that, maybe worth speaking on," Melancholy says, and she fidgets with Bryn's fingers, tippity-tappiting over them. "I thought that if you could see most of the hand signs, we might come up with something with you that we could use the way we might a facial expression. So you could 'see' if we're 'smiling' or 'frowning,' things like that, since it's something you can't see otherwise.
"Obviously, like a real expression, someone could always fake one and just sign something even if they aren't doing it, but with people you trust, it's the same as trusting in their smiles or frowns. Bryn pointed out you can probably hear the change in tone, too, but for when someone doesn't say anything, or while you're in the middle of speaking, maybe it would be useful. You could come up with as many as you might want, to see expressions again, if you would like."
Aze turns toward Melancholy and doesn't answer for a long moment, cinnamon roll in one hand. Then she makes the sign for yes with the other.
"That's really thoughtful of you," Aze says, and her own surprise is clear in her voice. "I've had friends who made me things to help — a watch, a calendar — " it is possible her friends were concerned with her punctuality, "but I never thought of hand signals. It would be… nice. To be able to see. Maybe I'd get better at figuring out the expressions, over time, with the indicators to help."
Melancholy smiles and signs back ready with a small laugh. "Well, we can see your expressions still, so really, it only seems fair if we can find a way for you to see ours, too," she says.
Baird nods. He smiles at Melancholy and then turns the smile on Aze, and then says matter-of-factly, "I'm smiling at you."
"Good to know it," Aze says, smiling back. "Maybe I can learn your fifty and then we can figure out a few new ones that'd be easy to tell apart?"
Miserie has been watching the exchange with interest, running through her hand signals to practice.
Melancholy responds by squeezing Bryn's hand once more before she lets go to reach into her pocket and fish around until she pulls out a black notebook, and a pencil, flipping open to the most recent page — on the other side of the paper is already many of her own notes on the signs she's been learning, and she looks at Bryn expectantly.
"If it's something more dynamic than a finger-sign, is it easier for you to see?" Baird asks Aze curiously. "Like if, instead of signing…." He makes the gesture for yes again. "What if someone who was smiling just went, like…" He holds up his hand, flat, palm down, and sweeps it sideways and upward, a rising curve in the air.
"Yeah, that's really clear," Aze nods, turning to him. "I'm good with movements. It doesn't have to be a big arc, either. Something easy to do casually in a conversation."
Baird nods. "Okay. That's easy. And then a frown would just be the down version of that, and — oh, but we should talk about the military ones I guess before we go inventing all new ones." He sits up straighter, rolls his shirtsleeve up another turn. "So you saw ready, yes, no" — again he makes each sign as he says the word — "and then after that the most basic stuff has to do with positioning. If you need someone to be in a certain place or go somewhere or whatever. That was — " He makes the sign behind at Miserie. "That just meant behind. Get behind."
Melancholy makes a few notes in her notebook, and signs ready, yes, no, and behind along with Bryn — by memory, while writing.
"Ooh, I got that one," Miserie says. "I hope I moved correctly."
"Lena moved you," Aze says with a faint smile. "You were good." She practices the gesture. "Probably ones for left, right, forward, too?"
Baird nods and makes three gestures in rapid succession. They are pretty self-explanatory. Pointing is involved. "And then wait, slow, quick." He makes three more signs.
Both elf and mage obediently copy the signs, committing them to memory in their own ways.
"Maybe sign language goes on… the terrace," Aze says, gesturing wait. "Where a person might watch for ships."
Miserie looks at Aze in curiosity. "I think I'll just keep mine in my hands. And Melancholy her notebook."
Melancholy looks up at that, glancing between Bryn and Aze. "Oh, you have a mind house, too?"
"In construction, maybe," Aze says, with another bite of cinnamon roll. "I'll see if it holds, over time. I need better locks."
Miserie looks pleasantly mystified.
Baird flashes a grin at Aze. Then he makes the swooping-hand smile gesture. "That's great," he says. "I'm glad it's useful."
Aze laughs, catching the gesture. "I like this already. And it's kind of… a secret language for friends. I like that part, too."
Melancholy makes the swooping smile gesture, with a dark plum lipped smile.
Miserie joins in, a little hesitantly, with a smile. She is actually smiling, too.
"'Bring me the darkness and the nightingale; / Dim wealds of vanished summer, peace of home, / And silence; and the faces of my friends,'" Melancholy recites, before she sets her attention again on Bryn.
Aze wobbles a little, and takes another bite of cinnamon roll. Then she asks Baird, "Where do they fit in your house? The hand signals?"
"Study," says Baird. "Forbes' Guide to Signals. Hand signs, flags and semaphores, Morse code. Battle of Whyte's Wing, K.C. 477. Kul Tiras Admiralty Law. Alliance Military Code of Conduct. Lieutenant Shine. Rules of poker." He pauses, shrugs.
"In there with poker and Lena's guy," Aze says, considering the links. "I don't think I know that battle. A naval one?"
Miserie looks over, fascinated. "Do you have Kul Tiras Admiralty Law memorized?"
"I don't know any of those, except for Shine," Melancholy says.
Baird looks between them all. "Not… not all of it verbatim or anything. I know the chapters and codes, what they cover. And yeah, Whyte's Wing was a naval skirmish. Involved an alleged confusion of fleet signals, ended with an Admiral court-martialed and shot for 'failure to do his utmost.'"
Melancholy gasps quietly, a hand up on her cheek. "Oh, my garters. What a charge."
"So it fits with signals," Aze nods. "And I guess they decided he wasn't confused."
"Clarity is good, when it comes to rules," Miserie nods firmly. "Oh, and I suppose when it comes to signals, too."
"Do you think it was a fair ruling?" Melancholy asks Bryn, a sincere curiosity.
Baird considers. "Yes and no. I think he was being dishonest about the signals, and definitely deserved discipline and loss of command for that. And I understand that Proudmoore's Admiralty was making an example of him, for future commanders. Kul Tiras takes stuff like perceived cowardice in action pretty seriously. But I also don't think it's justifiable to use an actual person's actual life to make an example for others, and I think a law requiring a person to 'do his utmost' in a battle is pretty ambiguous and subjective, and for it to carry the death penalty is pretty rough.
"On the other hand, a lot of the old-style naval regulations carried the death penalty. Corporal punishment or death. A ship's a small place and even a minor breach of discipline can ripple into a huge impact, so the policy was to shut it down hard and fast. They loosened it up in the Naval Reform of 553, but it still probably seems harsh by Stormwind standards. You can't run a ship or a fleet the way you run a battlefield."
Melancholy listens, but there's a clear jolt that goes through her at the reveal that there might be still even some of a death penalty for a commander on a ship who fails to do his utmost, and she reaches immediately for his hand again on an inhale. She blinks — and then the sharp scent of the fel as a soulstone takes hold on Bryn. Melancholy breathes out when it does.
"Nobody's getting executed here," Aze says with a smile, but she twitches a little away from Miserie. "Did they drop a lot of the executions in the reform? Or all of them?"
"A lot of them," says Baird. "Not all. You can still be executed for stuff like inciting mutiny, desertion, that kind of thing. Most other disciplinary stuff — on the ship, anyway — calls for corporal punishment, like flogging, or confinement in the brig. When a thing happens on a ship, though, there's a lot of leeway for the captain to decide how strictly he's going to run things and what measures he's willing to take, so for instance you'd hear some captains described as 'flogging captains,' because they were pretty enthusiastic about reaching for the cat if someone stepped out of line." He pauses. "Admiral Fallon is not a flogging captain. His dad, the old Admiral, was. It's a policy and discretionary thing."
"They flog them with a cat?" Miserie asks, aghast.
Melancholy gasps in horror.
"Sorry, no. That's — it's a kind of whip called the 'cat o' nine tails.' Not an actual cat," Baird says apologetically, as though this is better. It is less weird, anyway.
"I don't know if that's better or worse," Melancholy says, her nails scratching lightly on Bryn's hand.
Miserie lets out a relieved little breath. "Well that's… maybe worse for the recipient, but certainly better for the cat."
Aze is busy eating cinnamon roll, not laughing.
Baird nods gravely. This is a fair and true observation.
"What sort of things would Admiral Fallon — the current one, I mean — flog me for?" Melancholy asks seriously. She lets go of Bryn in order to poise her pencil over her notebook, to genuinely take notes on it.
Baird glances wide-eyed at Melancholy. "Nothing. You're — sorry, you're a lady. He'd never." He considers. "I mean, if you were inciting a mutiny, he'd probably lock you up. But flogging a lady probably would incite mutiny."
"Yeah, Fallon's never flogged me, but then I'm usually pretty agreeable," Aze says casually.
Miserie looks at Aze curiously. "Are you with the fleet?"
"No… but if he were into flogging…" Aze shrugs.
Baird clears his throat and decides to reach for another cinnamon roll.
"I doubt even a flogging captain would do it to a lady," Miserie says, with more confidence than her knowledge merits. "Or a civilian."
"Are you allowed to heal someone magically after they have been flogged, or does it have to heal naturally?" Melancholy asks Bryn, still serious.
"Has to heal naturally," says Baird to Melancholy. "The aftereffects of flogging are… not nice, and that is kind of the point as well as the initial act. But the ship's surgeon is allowed to treat it to keep it from infection and stuff."
Melancholy makes several notes in her notebook. "Well, that's certainly… information to have," she says, not quite hitting the right note for blithe or light. She turns her Pretty Please eyes onto Bryn, as if she needs them. "I think I would like to have you go through the Admiralty laws and Code of Conduct with me, thoroughly, sometime, please? I don't plan on ever doing anything wrong, and certainly not a mutiny, but we both know there are rules I don't know about in the first place, to not realize I might break them, and I'd rather be prepared, especially so I don't accidentally put someone else in a position to need to break one on my behalf to protect me or help me. Particularly if I would be exempt from the harsh punishment, and that person wouldn't."
"Surely they wouldn't punish someone else just for something you hadn't been told yet," Miserie says, looking to Baird. "Would they, Mr. Baird?"
"Um." Baird looks from Melancholy to Miserie. "They would probably… wish the person had explained to Melancholy, instead of breaking the rule themselves to help her? But yeah, I will go over anything you want with you." He looks back to Melancholy. "I… can't really imagine you doing anything anyway that would merit that kind of thing."
"I would rather know ahead of time, just in case. And I might be a more complicated case, because I have to know exactly what to say to a demon sometimes, and if the demon knows more than I do, and could do something that might get me punished, sometimes they will do it, deliberately. They're not to be trusted, and what I don't know to explicitly forbid, they will see as a loophole," Melancholy says, as she makes several more notes in her notebook. Her grim expression is deliberately cast off, and she pulls up a smile. "The perils of a warlock."
Somewhere, Peril, the warlock, sneezes. (Maybe.)
"Oh yeah, I know what you mean," Aze nods, more seriously. "For anyone who deals with the fel. You never know if this thing or that thing is over some line no one ever told you existed."
Baird nods. "That's a good point. Yeah, I'll go over all of it with you." He flashes her a smile. "We'll keep you out of trouble." Some kinds of trouble.
Melancholy turns her smile on Bryn, and signs smile with it, for Aze. "Thank you."
"Yeah," says Baird, smiling back at her again. "Of course."
"I certainly wouldn't want to see you get in trouble by accident, either, Melancholy," Miserie says. "Nor would Woe, I'm sure."
"Nor would Captain Fallon, for that matter," says Baird with a nod at Miserie.
"I also wouldn't want to be a black mark on Lena's record," Melancholy says, picking at the back of her single glove still on. "Not after all she's done for me."
There's a brisk knock on the door. It is probably not Captain Fallon. Lena would be a safe guess.
Melancholy startles slightly with an muwah! at the unexpected knock. She blinks several times with a laugh at herself, and turns to Bryn. "Well, that's a little eerie in timing, but I'm pretty sure that's Lena at the door, knocking."
"You want me to get it?" he asks, setting his cinnamon roll down.
"Just in case it's bad luck if I do?" Melancholy says with a laugh, and then thinks about it. What if it is bad luck that she just mentioned Lena and here she is. "Actually, maybe that would be a good idea. Would you?"
"I just meant so you don't have to get up again," Baird tells her. "I don't feel like Mrs. Shine would bring you bad luck. But just in case, okay." He slides his chair back and gets to his feet. "And also so you don't have to get up again."
He crosses to the door to open it.
It is, in fact, Lena. She does not appear to be here to bring bad luck. She's in her warlock robes of deep blue, the focusing dagger at her waist and hair tied back, but she doesn't look like she's seen combat this morning.
"Baird," she says, and then sees the others past him. "Ah. Good morning. Didn't realize I'd be interrupting a get-together. Meant to come by, see Melancholy got in alright."
"Mrs. Shine," says Baird politely. "Why don't you come in? Melancholy was just telling her sister how much you've done for her. Also there's cinnamon rolls."
Lena hesitates, eyeing the roomful of women, then nods. "For a bit, maybe. Cinnamon rolls? Haven't seen those so much in these parts."
"I made them," Miserie says brightly, raising a hand. "With magic!" She may not want to raise false hopes about her conventional baking skills.
"Alright," Lena says, coming into the room. "You all doing well, since yesterday?"
Melancholy looks like she always does, with her makeup and her clothes and her little hat and veil. Oh! One glove, that's odd — but she's pulling it back on. "Yes, I'm doing," she glances at Bryn, with a hint of color in her cheeks, "remarkably well." She fidgets with the glove, making sure it's pulled neatly over her finger. "Is there any news of anything? Do they need us back out there today?"
Lena shakes her head. "All quiet, from what I've heard." She moves in, a little awkwardly, to take a cinnamon roll. "I'd say seems a lasting peace, but maybe that's not to judge less than a day in."
"I missed the battle entirely," Miserie says apologetically. "Thought it was a storm."
"There was thunder," Lena says equably. "Might be what you heard."
"And the wall's secure, for now," Aze offers. "I went by to check after."
"Why don't you sit, Mrs. Shine?" Baird asks, closing the door. "That's good news about the wall. Thought I might go and have a look out there later myself."
"They're always happy for the help," Aze says. "But they've said it hasn't been too bad lately. Maybe the bugs are distracted with something else. The north, or whatever."
Lena stares at Aze for a long moment, her face impassive, then settles down with her cinnamon roll and glances to Miserie. "Don't reckon you can conjure coffee?"
Miserie shakes her head. "I'm not really a fluid specialist. Water, though?" She reaches out a hand toward Lena, and the water bottle materializes on the way.
Lena takes it, and uncaps the bottle. "I've been thinking when to head back to the harbor. Not right away. We need to make sure the peace holds, and I'll want to speak with Shine beforehand."
Melancholy's gaze meanders chaotically over the table, as understanding dawns. "Oh. Oh, of course."
"I've been meaning to get back down there," Baird says, and settles again beside Melancholy. "Make some arrangements, talk some stuff over with the Captain."
Lena nods. "Now we've handled things here, and the fleet on its way, its a good time for it."
Aze looks over at Baird and Melancholy's reactions, a little puzzled.
Melancholy pulls up a smile. "It's good news, isn't it? We were here to defend the Vale, and the Vale has been defended. So it's a success, and the return to the Fleet was always the long term goal." She runs her nails over the sides of her fingers, looking everyone on the table except at anyone.
"Aye, it was," Lena says. "I was on something of an extended mission away till now, of course. And there may be more that calls for our attention, if the mogu soulbinders start causing trouble again. The Thunder King's still out there, after all." She takes a bite of cinnamon roll.
"I'll probably be around, wherever," Aze offers. "I'm going to stay in Pandaria for now — my work's not done."
Baird nods. "I'll be down in Lion's Landing another month or so, I guess. If we're sure things here are holding. Not aboard the Blanche, but I'll be in the fort a while yet. Until mid-July."
Melancholy looks at him with surprise and relief. "You'll stay at the fort," she repeats, and this time she's smiling directly at him, wide and happy. "You'll be close by, but not on the ship, which means the land kingdom rules apply, then?"
Baird looks a little surprised. "Yeah. Well, yeah. I've stepped aside from the Blanche, but I'm still navy. And I told you I'm not going back to Stormwind until the 8th. So I'll be at the Landing."
"I didn't know. I suppose I assumed we might still be here until July. I didn't really think about what might happen if the Vale didn't need us, before then," Melancholy says, still smiling at him.
"Oh, good, so there's more time to hang out," Aze says. "Navy or not, I bet we'll be helpful there."
Lena nods. "We may spend a lot of time ashore as well. Hard to predict. There hasn't been much call for naval action lately, though."
"And I might head back to Duskwood for a while," Miserie says. "I don't have a strict timetable on when, but I think Malaise will be there."
"More time to hang out," Baird agrees, and makes the smile sign at Aze. To Miserie, he says, "How is Malaise doing? You talk with your sister often?" He does not look at Melancholy.
Melancholy picks at the back of her gloves, her gaze still on Bryn.
"I'd a letter from her not long ago," Miserie says. "Saying she's back in Duskwood, for the most part. We Grimlockes range widely, but we try to keep up with one another, time and again."
Baird nods politely. "You all seem close-knit. That's nice." The compliment sounds sincere, not lukewarm. "I'm pretty used to… I travel a lot, with my career. But I'm close with my family too."
Lena enjoys her cinnamon roll, smiling slightly at them.
"Mine was pretty close, too," Aze adds. "And now, there's all the traveling, me and them… but we try to keep up with each other. You get to visit yours often?"
Melancholy picks at her glove hard enough that she snags a nail on some of the netting badly enough to loosen it, and she tucks her hands under the table, setting them flat on each thigh.
Baird settles back in his seat and reaches over to rest his hand casually on the back of Melancholy's chair. "Few times a year. The Lady Blanche's home port is Fallon Harbor, and that's where my family lives too."
Melancholy leans closer to him, slouching more in her chair to move her shoulder near his arm. "That's something I should probably learn more about with the navy and those times — for the expectations of how often I would be able to visit back home. I'm not used to being on this side of it. I was always the one at home, waiting for when people would come back for a visit," she says blithely. "But I am planning on taking a short trip with Bryn back to Stormwind, Duskwood, and Elwynn, from the 8th to the 9th, to settle everything there with the families. I'll be coming right back, of course. I would only need the short time."
"That should be fine," Lena nods. "I see no reason why you couldn't take a little time to visit families and such." Having finished her cinnamon roll, Lena takes a sip of water and moves to rise. "Well, I don't mean to impose on you all for too long. No need to train today, given yesterday, but I'll see you tomorrow, Melancholy?"
"Oh, yes, yes, of course. I'll be ready and waiting," Melancholy says. She looks at the cinnamon rolls. "Does the little creature — Bun — eat… cinnamon buns?"
Lena laughs, her expression softening. "Bun eats whatever he gets his little paws on, good for him or not. But he does love Gwen's mana buns, so I imagine he'd be pleased for the snack. If there's spare."
Melancholy looks at Miserie with a Pretty Please on behalf of her fellow tanuki.
"Oh, sure," Miserie smiles. "I can make more. Take as many as you'd like."
Lena's eyebrow quirks. "I'll bring him one or two, then." She fetches two more cinnamon rolls and heads for the door. Tanuki are hungry creatures.
It's true.
Melancholy gives Lena a finger wiggle wave. "Ta-ta, then," she says, which must be meant for Lena, but she keeps her face turned where Bryn can see her lips. It's not a far jump from there to go back to looking at him with that relieved, happy smile, ranging into staring at him. She signs smile for Aze's vision, and leaves her hand resting on the table, although the other stays held flat over her thigh.
"Give him my regards," Baird says to Lena as she departs. Does he… mean the tanuki? He means the tanuki.
When Lena has gone, he takes his hand from the back of Melancholy's chair and rests it over hers on the table briefly. "Hope Lieutenant Shine's back soon," he says.
Melancholy's expression shifts with genuine sympathy. "It has been an awfully long time since he's been back properly, hasn't it? Poor Lena. 'Thou bring'st the sailor to his wife, / And travell'd men from foreign lands; / And letters unto trembling hands; / And, thy dark freight, a vanish'd life. / So bring him,'" she recites, with sincere feeling.
"I don't know that one," says Baird. "Lord Tennyson? I know there's a part about grief and a ship in one of his. Woe mentioned it but he didn't have it with him to lend to me."
Melancholy nods with an mmhmm. "That's from 'In Memoriam A.H.H.', the one by him that I mentioned when you and Lena walked me back from the first day that the fighting started for the Golden Lotus, when Shine stayed behind — how oddly prophetic in retrospect. The poem is filled with yearning and grief, and when I first memorized it, those were distant sympathies. Not quite so distant anymore."
"Life does that," Aze agrees easily.
Miserie watches Melancholy with a touch of sadness in her eyes. Then she puts on a smile. "Well, I'm glad you've friends here that enjoy poetry."
"Are you interested in poetry as well?" Baird asks Miserie politely. "I know Melancholy and your brother Torment are, and it was Woe who got me interested in it to begin with."
Melancholy turns her plum lipped smile from Bryn to Miserie.
"Oh, I'm fond of poetry, yes," Miserie says. "I haven't Torment's facility for writing it or Melancholy's keen ear, but I enjoy it, certainly."
"We were just talking about Torment's poetry," Baird says. "How he might enjoy Pandaren poetry. It's similar in style." He nods toward Aze. "Aszera also enjoys poetry."
"I don't know much of it in Common," Aze admits. "But I'm enjoying learning it, bit by bit. I'm pretty into Thalassian poetry, though. Different style. Do you think Torment will come out to visit?"
"Out here, you mean?" Melancholy's brows raise in surprise. "Oh, my garters, I hope not." She holds up a hand as soon as she says it. "No, no, I'm sorry, that's not what it probably sounds like. I don't mean I don't hope to see him in a visit, I mean that I would be so worried if he did — I'm honestly hoping he'll visit the house in Duskwood when we're there. Pandaria is a lot of things, but I wouldn't call most places that we'll be safe, not even the harbor here. It would have been like me coming out to visit, before I was a warlock. Torment's… well, delicate," she says delicately, looking at Miserie imploringly.
"Oh, yes, Torment doesn't have the simulated experience I have. I would want him to be safe above all. Maybe once it's sure that the Shrine is safe, he could come here?" Miserie ponders. "Anyway, we can always bring him poetry back to Duskwood."
"He managed to handle Bryling," Baird says a little dryly.
"Oh! Well, that's an idea, too — do you think she would like to come visit?" Melancholy asks. "I could summon her, and Miserie could portal her back to Stormwind."
"Oh, yes, Stormwind's easy. I have lots of practice," Miserie says with a smile.
Baird looks a little alarmed. "Bryling? Visit here? Uh." A pause to eat cinnamon roll and reflect. "… maybe?"
"Think she'd accept a surprise summons?" Aze asks.
Baird looks even more alarmed. "She's never been summoned anywhere," he says.
Which, paradoxically, in Bryling's case means probably yes.
They didn't work out a hand signal for alarmed, but maybe Aze can hear some of it in his voice.
"I would like to meet her," Miserie says, "But it doesn't have to be today, of course."
"Sometimes, people can sense who is summoning them, so if you're part of it, she should be able to tell it's from you," Melancholy says brightly.
"But, like with Theris yesterday, if she doesn't know why you're summoning her, she might think it's an emergency, and accept it no matter what she's doing, and I think that might be a less-than-ideal start to meeting her," Melancholy adds after a moment's thought.
Baird nods, relieved. "Yeah. We can, uh. If we want her to come out here I can let her know. In advance."
Aze looks faintly disappointed there will be no surprise summoning, but she makes up for it with a bite of cinnamon roll.
"If I'm still here, I'll be happy to provide portals back," Miserie says. "Otherwise, maybe I'll see her while I'm at home in Duskwood."
"Does Bryling like to travel?" Melancholy asks.
"I don't know," says Baird. "She hasn't. Traveled, I mean. Much. Working for the Guard keeps her in Stormwind."
Melancholy pops a smile, and signs with it. "Well, if she ever decides she wants to be a globetrotter, I'd be happy to help. I didn't travel much myself, before I started becoming a warlock. It hadn't really ever been something I felt drawn to — I was happy to be at home, and the places around it. I'd been to Westfall, Elywnn, Stormwind, and technically Dalaran, but that was mostly asleep. Now I've been lots of places, if only briefly for a day trip, and I plan to spend the rest of my life traveling where I need to be," she says lightly. "So, if it's something she did wish she could do, but hasn't, because of her duty, I really would do something to help her get that wish, as a warlock can. But, it's also fair if she likes being where she is — there's nothing wrong with it."
"I didn't really travel much till this last decade," Aze admits. "There's some appeal to being in a place you know. I don't know if I would've said I wanted to travel, but I think I've adapted pretty well." Aze pauses. "Maybe even if she doesn't, a summon and portal in the Shrine is more of a day trip."
"I'll write to her," Baird says. "See if she wants to come up here for a day. Or so."
Melancholy claps her hands together. "If she does, then I can buy her a beer!" Little Melancholy, out there, buying a fellow younger sister a beer! Just picture it. She's still smiling when she adds, "I don't know anything about beers." Not that this will stop her, but just so everyone knows.
Baird laughs. "Well, lucky that in my experience you can't go wrong out here. The pandaren do know their beer."
Aze laughs. "I'm more of a wine person myself, that and stronger spirits. But yeah, I bet it'd be easy to get a recommendation."
Miserie is smiling at the mental image of Melancholy buying the mysterious Bryling a beer.
Melancholy taps a finger by her lips. "Oh, I don't know if I'm a Spirits Person — doesn't that sound though it's something I should be?" Given her whole… everything. "Maybe I'll try some of those, too. I like the idea of getting a Pandaren Recommendation, for something new for Bryling to experience, and she can give me her honest opinion from her beer knowledge. It sounds like it would be fun."
"Aszera could probably recommend some spirits, if you want to try them. She recommended one to me and Mrs. Shine that was great." Baird makes the smile sign in Aze's direction, visibly considers a fourth cinnamon roll, decides against it.
Melancholy tippity-tappities her fingers on the table with a hm! "That sounds interesting, doesn't it? We could make a weekend of it, and maybe see if healthstones work on hangovers!" It's worth a shot, right? "But, if you're teaching me about spirits, then what might be something I could do for you in return? Besides buy them — that's just being friendly, of course, since I'd be inviting you out to it — but, for something fair. Is there something I might know about that you would like to know?"
"What, me?" Aze asks, straightening. "I'd be happy to go drinking — that is, teach you about spirits — you don't have to do anything in return. I wouldn't say no to you buying them, or telling me about other stuff, but only if you want to. Doesn't have to be about being fair."
Melancholy taps her nails together on her thumb. "Oh, it's just a little easier — for me — if I'm going to ask for someone's time like that, not just to socialize, but to inform me about something, taking time out of their day and preferences, if I know that I could be doing the same thing for them. Then, it's balanced. Like, swimming lessons for bicycle lessons." She pops a smile at Bryn, signing along with it.
Baird flashes a smile back at her. "We ought to go for another swimming lesson soon. Now things are cleared up in the Vale."
Melancholy stops tapping her nails to bounce them on the table, with a bit of a wiggle in her seat. "Oh! We should! And we can keep them up even when we go to the harbor." Ocean swimming era!
"Yeah," says Baird. "It's different in the ocean. The water's always moving, but because it's salt, it's easier to float." A thought strikes him and he turns to Miserie. "How much water can a mage conjure? At one time? How long does it last?"
"Oh, water can last a little longer, I think," Miserie says, "Because of the energy-time limit, you see. At one time is a bit dependent on the mage, the power involved, if they have any amplification device. For instance, our leader…" Miserie makes a faint grimace, "…summoned an army of water elementals to aid at the Battle of Bladefist Bay. Not exactly what you were talking about, but it was quite a lot of water." She sounds reluctantly impressed on that point.
"Yeah," says Baird. "I remember." He is silent a moment. "Captain Fallon is not big on mages, but it seems to me it would be pretty useful to have a replenishing source of fresh water on a ship. I wonder if I could talk him around."
Melancholy laughs in delight at a thought. "Wouldn't that be a treat! If the mage was Miserie, we'd be three Grimlockes — or more. I wonder if Malaise might want to think about if she wants to be a doctor aboard a ship. Since Gnomeregan didn't work out."
"A whole ship," Aze says with a grin.
"I don't know whether I should like to be on a ship," Miserie says, tilting her head. "I suppose it would not be so confining, if there was a warlock aboard. I could always flit away elsewhere. But I do have my work right now, in any case, so this is all speculation."
"Of course. No, no, you're right. I'm sorry, I was letting myself get a bit carried away on the thought of us all together," Melancholy says. Sometimes, she does just get excited.
Baird gives her that quicksilver grin. "Maybe by the time I'm a captain," he says.
Miserie gives a little laugh. "Well, it is not a thing I'd considered, so maybe I will, now. Who can tell what twists our fates have in store?"