The Learned Society of Nexus Geographers

[conjuredskies]

Felix wasn’t strictly untruthful to Verity, and perhaps that’s good enough.

He is, after all, free. It’s just that rather than waiting to be sent off-duty, he waits until Stratos disappears into their home portal, then scribbles a note to say that it’s been six hours(!) and he needs food. He leaves it pinned beneath a rock at his desk.

How could that possibly backfire?

He’s delved into the streets of the Nexus before, but as usual it’s an education in architecture – and food, and commerce, and the entertaining arts. His map holds him true though. Aside from a bit of shock when he learns what an Escher bridge actually is, he makes it safely to the Fox and Crozier. It’s a surprisingly pleasant place, opening onto a tree-shaded yard of its own. The clink of glasses and murmur of pleasant conversation drift through the open doors. Rather impressed, Felix glances around the lane to check if Verity’s waiting outside before he heads in.

Comments

[brave_heart_verity]

Verity's inside, having claimed a table for them near a sunny window. She's got a very large book beside her, a pitcher of some kind of punch in front of her, and a glass of the same in her hands. She's not hard to spot, which is good since she's not watching the doors: the scene outside the window, of a horse complaining about the quality of the stables (there's a great deal of hoof-stomping), has captured her attention.

The friendly-looking hen at the front desk gives Felix a curious look when he comes in, but doesn't stop him if he goes straight through to the dining room.

[conjuredskies]

He's really relieved that the hen looks friendly because despite forewarning, he nearly double-takes. Felix gives her a polite nod and "Good afternoon," instead. He's trying not to feel self-conscious about the uniform, and surely the giant hen has seen stranger.

He keeps walking, finding Verity and sliding naturally into the seat opposite her. The argument outside doesn't really draw his attention: where there are stables, he knows, there are always grooms and riders arguing about the care their mounts are getting.

"And there you have the reason I walk," he remarks, thus speaking over the horse's next first-person complaint. He gives her a smile. "I have to thank you for the map."

[brave_heart_verity]

The hen's dealt with worse reactions, so she won't be making too much of a fuss about it and calls out a "Good afternoon dearie," in passing.

"Horses are argumentative where you come from?" Verity turns to Felix with a smile when he sits. "You're welcome. I'm glad it worked. Would you like some sangria?" She nods to the pitcher; there's an empty glass waiting for him. "I'm glad you could come."

[conjuredskies]

"Incredibly," he confirms, though he's not thinking of vocal argument. "Temperamental, contrary, horrendously expensive. Thank you." This last refers to the sangria. He pours a glass and settles back.

"Believe me, I'm glad to be here. Until you came by all I had to look forward to was a few hours of chasing skeevers and trying to stop this armor squeaking." That's not true, but he doesn't even notice, busy pulling a glum face to emphasize his point. He lifts his glass in salute before sipping.

[brave_heart_verity]

She thinks he's joking, so he gets a sympathetic laugh. (Not a sympathy laugh, that would be different.) "You poor thing. Is the armor really uncomfortable?" She's never worn any, but it doesn't look like a good time to her.

There's a question she has to ask, though: "What's a skeever?"

[conjuredskies]

Verity's sympathy is appreciated. "It wouldn't be so bad if it fit properly. You know, before this I had a properly-fitted set of leathers, carefully broken in over long weeks. I could even sleep in them comfortably. Now I'm getting pinched on all sides every time I move." He sighs, and has a gulp of sangria to ease the pain. It could be worse, of course. At least the uniform has a leather skirt and not, say, leather pants...

As for skeevers, he has to think a moment. "Skeevers are a sort of Northern rodent, about the same size as a dog- do you have rats? They're basically an uglier, skinnier kind of rat."

[brave_heart_verity]

"That does sound uncomfortable. Hopefully, you can get some that fits properly soon." She's trying not to mention the skirt. Not that there's anything wrong with a man wearing a skirt. But it does amuse her.

"Rats the size of a dog? Ours aren't that big, thank goodness. I'm happy to have spared you." That's a frightening thought. She will surreptitiously draw her feet up onto the rung of her chair. "Since you just got off shift, you must be hungry. Do you want to order a meal before we break out the maps?"

[conjuredskies]

"If you happen to see an armorer around the Nexus, let me know." Between typical tough-warrior dress back home and occasionally winding up in proper mage robes, that's one area where his masculinity is totally secure. He does miss the insulation you get with a good pair of breeches though.

"An excellent plan. Keeping your, er, earlier recommendation in mind of course." But that makes him wonder, if there are chicken-people to beware offending, are there also cow and fish and boar-people to worry about? What is safe to order? He's not used to menus being provided, but hopefully there's one at the table to set him at ease.

[brave_heart_verity]

"There's a smith down in the commercial district. Don't know how good he is, but it might be worth asking." There may be several smiths, and several more people named Smith. She's glad he's secure in his skirts. He can have them. She's very insecure wearing clothes that might suggest she wants to be looked at.

There's a slate with the day's menu written in colored chalks at the end of the table. Plenty of non-chicken meaty meals. There are even egg dishes--duck eggs. As far as Verity's been able to figure, you just don't ask people for food made out of anything too closely related to them. "I was thinking the shepherd's pie sounds good."

[conjuredskies]

"Thanks. I will." It'll make an interesting diversion, anyway. Getting the run-around in the Nexus at least means plenty of interesting sights.

"They have shepherd's pie here? The real kind?" Felix leans his elbows on the table as he pulls the slate closer. Not all the dishes are recognizable, but the ones he understands look good. "Hmm. Smoked salmon and potato cakes sound delicious too, but I think I've had enough fish for a while... hmm." He pans his gaze down further. "You know, we may have to come back here."

[brave_heart_verity]

And an excuse to go back on information-gathering expeditions if he writes the report cleverly. General Tullius is going to want in on these strange and deadly new weapons. And he doesn't even know how much he needs an iPod yet, but if ever there was a man who needs a chance to get his groove on it's that Imperial bastard.

"A proper society has regular meetings, right?" She's all smiles at the idea of coming back. Having something to look forward to is extremely valuable to her right now. "And yeah, the real kind. If you're getting that maybe I'll get the braised rabbit. I've never had rabbit before." What his order has to do with hers is anyone's guess. And what kind of a place does she live where they don't have rabbit?

[conjuredskies]

Felix would have to agree with that. After all, any occasion the general has to dance is an occasion that involves hobnobbing. And speeches. Rumor has it Tullius tends to foist them off on the junior-most officer in range so he can get back to glowering at his maps.

"Naturally." He has a cheerful smirk in response to her enthusiasm, even if he misunderstands her reasons. He's just pleased to have hit on an idea she likes, and that she's enjoying his company. "So we'll work our way down the menu next time. That should give me time to find out what some of these words mean."

[brave_heart_verity]

Hobnobbing and speeches? May the Nine spare them all. But Verity's generally of the opinion that everyone should dance more. And that's not just because she wants to dance more and has nobody to dance with.

They can both enjoy themselves for now and worry about the misunderstandings later. Hopefully, there won't be too many hurt feelings. "We can work our way down the menu this time if you want, but I don't think I could eat that much. What words? I know a lot about cooking, so I might be able to explain." She's pretty certain she can explain, but there's always the chance, in the Nexus, of the foreign words being really foreign.

[conjuredskies]

Perhaps that should be their next order of business: collect enough members to hold a dance in the Nexus. Surely there are others in need of one!

"Let's spare our stomachs, then. Any decent food is going to be enough shock for mine." He turns the slate so he can point out some of the confusing items. "All right. What can you tell me about this 'kethna' they're roasting? Or the... goslingroot... something-something here?"

That's goslingroot tagliatelle with Fenarian mushrooms in pepper sauce. The poor chef is just trying to experiment with the vegetarian options. Felix really doesn't have to act like he suspects the dish will contain eyeballs.

[brave_heart_verity]

There are autumnal holidays coming up that would be an excellent excuse for a Nexus dance. Just putting that out there.

"Keep taking the border patrol here and I'll make sure you eat well," she promises after a sympathetic tsking. Militaries mistreat their soldiers the same way everywhere it seems. She leans forward to look over the menu with him. "...okay, I don't know what 'kethna' is, but tagliatelle is a ribbon pasta. And goslingroot I'm going to guess is a vegetable? I'll have to find out next time I'm at the market."

[conjuredskies]

The Nexus is often very willing to seize on such things.With or without providing amusing side-effects.

"I can definitely do that," he agrees cheerfully. He won't have any competition for the job. The poor diet is more to be blamed on his funds than his new employers, but he is entirely happy to let her think otherwise. "So long as it is a vegetable goslingroot sounds pleasant enough. But, er, pasta means...?"

[brave_heart_verity]

Someone will have to organize something.

It's always better to have the sympathy of the pretty girl, isn't it?

"Pasta... you don't... okay. Pasta is a dough that you roll out and cut into shapes, then let it air-dry for a while. When it's firm, you boil it in water. Usually, it's eaten with some kind of sauce, either tomato or cheese-based. I'll get that, so you can try some." Rabbit can wait.

[conjuredskies]

It's one of the very best kinds of sympathy.

"That doesn't sound bad at all. How about I get it, and you stay with the rabbit?" he offers. He's still imagining something like pastry shapes in sauce, but that's not off-putting either. "I can't imagine how you haven't tried that before, unless your world has miniature rabbits too."

[brave_heart_verity]

Pastry shapes in sauce... that could be a thing. Sort of a savory bread pudding.

"No, we have rabbits, and people used to eat them frequently. They're considered pets now, and too cute to eat, I guess. There are all kinds of things people used to eat that we don't anymore. So, we'll both be brave?" She curls a hand under her chin and leans an elbow on the table. "I mean culinarily."

[conjuredskies]

It could work!

"That seems an appropriate way to begin our meeting, don't you think?" He gives her a curious look for the way she phrases that, but has another sip of sangria and leans back to see if he can attract one of the waiters.

[brave_heart_verity]

"It does," she agrees with a smile. She doesn't consider herself a brave person, in general, which is what prompted the clarification. He'll have to wonder until he asks because she's not going to admit something like that for just a look.

It's not hard to get one of the waitstaff to come over. There's a slate and a piece of chalk and an expectant look from a chicken person who might be in their teens. (It's always such a hard age.) "Braised rabbit for me, and goslingroot tagliatelle for him, please."

[conjuredskies]

It's probably impolite to ask a lady if she thinks either of them is a coward. He'll need to find an opening for a joke about it.

He manages not to give the avian youngster an obviously curious look. It's not really stranger than the beastfolk at home, he tells himself, and chooses not to think of how a Khajiit might respond to that.

"And whatever you'd recommend to drink with that," he adds cheerfully, since they're being adventurous and he feels he owes his boss a nice plump expense bill.

[brave_heart_verity]

She'd be so embarrassed if she knew he thought she meant him. She's never been subtle about insults if she felt the need to give one. So that's... sort of a relief?

A Khajiit would probably sniff disdainfully at the fact food is acting like people now and then would stalk off to sulk about it. The waiter makes notes about the order, then taps the chalk on the slate thoughtfully. "We've got a nice Dwarven remembrance ale commemorating the victory at Innspa." A free rummage through the wine cellar is great until the bill comes and people start yelling, so the waiter's going to play it safe.

[conjuredskies]

He's not rushing to assume it, but there's always a possibility. Verity needn't worry: his threshold for offense is high enough to deal amicably with both daedra and elves, after all.

"Dwarven?" That's... really, distractingly interesting. "You don't happen to know where that comes from, do you?"

[brave_heart_verity]

It's good one of them is patient and understanding. Verity's the sort of person that would cause an international incident if left alone with a Thalmor and would go to the block insisting it was the elf's fault for lying in the first place.

"Glorvardum, sir. Near Sunndi."

Verity doesn't recognize the names, and shrugs. "It sounds good. Thank you." The poor kid's there to take orders, not explain dwarves or geography. Once the waiter's gone she leans forward again. "You like dwarves?"