shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

She hadn't actually bought a thing, Shelley realises vaguely as she steps out of the transport and onto the grass. The craft lifts again once she is clear, making the cool damp air vibrate slightly, and her skirts flap gently. The girl waves after a moment, up at the unseen pilot.

It had been... nice, walking through the town. Nobody paid her much attention, and she could go where she liked. It helped, she thinks. Sadly, she couldn't stay there forever - she is very definitely tired, and her feet hurt. She glances about with slight worry, wandering slowly up to the house. Having never approached from this direction before, it's tricky knowing exactly where to go.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The door to the house slid open and a servant stepped out of the door. After taking a deep bow, he spoke calmly.

"Greetings, mistress. Welcome home."

Oh great, Shelley thinks crossly, and also with rather a lot of worry.

"Er. Thank you?" she hazards, stopping where she is.

She hasn't forgotten how Lanfear got in, quite, and also... what does she do now?

The servant watched her with a tilt of his head. She was as odd as they said apparently. He maintained his composure, but was worried lest he fail her and Lord Ishamael by turn.

"Lord Ishamael would like to know if you want to refresh yourself before dinner is served."

Shelley blinks. It's time for dinner already? She must have been out longer than it had seemed at the time.

"...I think so."

The servant nodded. It was just as Lord Ishamael said it would be. There was something distinctly frightening about the man. He was thankful that he only infrequently had to interact with the Chosen.

"He thought that might be the case and asked that you send a priority one level message to dining services when you are ready. If you have need of anything, then he will be in the Western Library. Thank you, mistress."

With a deep bow, the servant turned and reentered the building, though the door remained open.

Shelley nods, then frowns. Why priority one?

But then, she doesn't have Loira to ask any more. She looks down at her feet as the young man bows to her and leaves, before slowly entering the house, at her own rather slow pace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only