Welcome to Rosavelle!

[royaldecreemods]

INVITATION

You're going about your day when you notice an envelope that most certainly wasn't there before. It's beautiful, if a little old-fashioned: pale pink paper, sealed with a pressed flower instead of wax and your name written in looping cursive that shimmers faintly in the light.
Inside, the letter begins;

Dearest friend—
Goodness, I hope that isn't too forward. We've not met, after all. But I have been told that when one writes an invitation, it's important to sound sincere.

My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle. It's a little island kingdom far, far away - so far that it may not exist quite in the same world as yours.

I know this must sound terribly strange, but I'm writing because I need your help. You see, my coronation is approaching soon, and Rosavelle's magic - the Everbloom - responds to the strength of one's heart. It's said that a ruler must understand love to truly awaken it. Not just romance, mind you, but all kinds of love: friendship, kindness, care.

The trouble is… I'm not very good at it. I've read so many books about love, but real people don't seem to follow the same rules the novels do.

That is why I'm writing to you. The Everbloom - our most ancient and wondrous magic - has granted me the means to reach across worlds. I'm inviting a handful of remarkable individuals, like you, to Rosavelle to help me learn. Not only to teach me what love means to you, but to help me see how it can bloom between friends, companions, and strangers alike.

I promise you'll be treated as an honored guest.

... It goes on like that for a while, whole paragraphs assuring you that you can leave whenever you want, no time will pass back in your world, the Everbloom's magic will keep you safe, etc etc… honestly it gets to the point that it starts to sound less like an invitation and more like a contract. But then, mercifully, the writer finds their footing again:

If you'll come, I'd be so very grateful. I know this is a strange request, and you owe me nothing - but still, I hope you'll consider it. Rosavelle is beautiful this time of year, and it is my hope that seeing it alongside fresh eyes will allow me to see it more clearly as well.

With all my thanks (and my hopes!)—
Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré

Maybe you accept right away or maybe you dismiss it as a prank or something equally unimportant. No matter what you think when you first read it, your mind eventually turns back to that invite and your find yourself thinking that it might not be a bad idea…

And once you do, you feel the world going soft and sweet around you, the scent of blooming flowers filling your nose - and before you can quite process what's happening, you realize you've accepted.

ARRIVAL

You arrive in a haze of soft, rosy light. For a moment, everything is weightless - the air around you hums faintly, thick with warmth and the heady scent of flowers. When the haze fades, you find yourself standing beneath a vast glass dome that stretches impossibly high overhead. The light filtering through its pink-tinted panes paints everything in gentle rose and gold and petals drift through the air like drifting snow.

You are standing in the Everbloom's Greenhouse. The walls curve upward in graceful arches, every pane glimmering faintly and the air is warm, fragrant, and shimmering with faint motes of magic. Flowering vines climb the supports, colorful blossoms of all kinds spill from hanging baskets, and everywhere you look there's flowers, flowers, flowers.

At its heart stands the Everbloom, a colossal tree the likes of which you've never seen before. Its smooth trunk is faintly luminous and the canopy stretches so high that you can't see where it ends, vanishing into a haze of golden light and drifting petals. The air around it hums softly with power and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at it in awe.

A moment later, movement stirs: castle attendants glide forward in elegant uniforms, carrying towels, refreshments, and generally doing their best to make sure everyone's arrived safely. After all, you're not alone. Around you, other figures begin to appear - some blinking in wonder, some already steady on their feet. Each seems as out of place as you, drawn from distant worlds and disparate lives but under the rosy light they all seem to come together like flowers gathered into the same bouquet.

Those who stumble are gently guided toward a bench cushioned with flowering moss. Cool towels and drinks infused with rose and mint are offered freely. Eventually, once it seems like everyone's arrived and mostly gotten their bearings, one of the attendants - a lady-in-waiting as you'll eventually find out - speaks up.

"You are most welcome to Rosavelle," she says, dipping into a polite bow. "Their Princess will be hosting a banquet this evening to greet you all properly. Until then, please take your time to get settled and familiar with your surroundings. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."

For now, you're free to mingle. This is your chance to get your bearings, meet your fellow arrivals, and explore your surroundings. Beyond the main atrium, you can glimpse winding paths lined with blooming hedges and fat, colorful blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, you can faintly hear birdsong. You feel a little tug somewhere in your chest and if you follow it, you might just come across a flowerbed somewhere in the Greenhouse that you somehow know as your own.

After some time to mingle and acclimate, the attendants return, clapping their hands gently to draw attention.

"It's nearly time to prepare for the evening banquet! If you'll come with us, we'll see to your attire."

DRESS UP

You're led from the warmth of the greenhouse through a series of winding marble corridors until you're ushered through a set of grand double doors into a suite of guest rooms bustling with motion. Tailors, stylists, and attendants hurry between privacy screens, racks of lavish garments and trays piled high with glittering jewelry. Silks and satins gleam and lace and velvet catch the light in soft waves of color.

Tailors and stylists bustle about, armed with measuring tapes, pins, and brushes. The staff are cheerfully firm about making sure everyone looks their best for the banquet but nobody's forced into anything they don't want; the attendants listen to everyone's preferences and somehow find something flattering for even the most reluctant participant. Whether you comply with good humor or grumble through the process, it's impossible not to get swept up in the flurry of preparation. … of course, if you're determined to be a grump about the whole thing, you're welcome to wait outside until everyone's dressed up nicely.

The attendants encourage everyone to chatter as they work or even to lend a hand to another guest struggling with their ensemble. Maybe it's out of curiosity - the staff are polite, professional, but it's clear that dressing guests from other worlds is a novelty they want to enjoy.

As final adjustments are made and mirrors fill with transformed reflections, the bustle slowly quiets. Attendants exchange satisfied looks, then guide the group once more through the corridors. The faint strains of music drift down the corridors until at last, you find yourself before the towering double doors of the Azurite Banquet Hall, carved from the stone it takes its name from. The lady in waiting pauses just long enough to smooth a wrinkle here, adjust a collar there, and make sure everyone is present before pushing the doors open.

BANQUET

The Azurite Banquet Hall glows with warm candlelight reflected in polished marble floors and the air inside smells of wine and roses. Long tables stretch the length of the hall, each one dressed in embroidered runners and heaped with platters of food that look almost too beautiful to eat and in the corner, a string quartet plays a soft, lilting melody.

At the head of the room stands your host, Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. Draped in pale gold, they look every bit the part of a royal... though the slightly nervous way they adjust their posture speaks of someone not entirely at ease in the spotlight. When they catch sight of the assembled guests, though, they brighten a bit. Their hands are clasped too tightly around their wine glass, but their voice is bright and earnest.

"Ah - good evening, everyone! I - well, goodness, where does one even begin?

First of all, thank you. Truly, thank you all for coming here - to Rosavelle, and to me. I know this must all seem terribly strange - one moment you were in your own world, and the next you're here. It's strange to me too, you know. I've been imagining this for weeks, and yet somehow it still doesn't feel quite real.
Ah - oh! I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle, soon to be its sovereign, though I admit that still feels a little surreal to say aloud.

I invited you here because - well, I imagine all of you read your invitations. The Everbloom, our kingdom's oldest and most sacred magic, is bound to the heart and mine is… embarrassingly, quite uneducated in such matters. I couldn't imagine anyone in this world I could burden with such a problem and so I thought - perhaps - those who come from other worlds might help me."

... suddenly, they look sheepish.

"That said, ah - there is a small complication. It is. Um. Frowned upon by most scholars to interfere with the affairs of other worlds, even with the best of intentions and I fear it would cause quite a stir if word got out. So for the time being, we'll need to keep your origins a secret. Please don't worry, though - we've arranged everything you'll need. Over the next month, we'll be teaching you about Rosavelle and all its customs so that when you venture out for the Wilting festival, you'll feel quite at home.

I realize that's rather a lot to ask, and I'm - well, I'm deeply grateful for your patience. I promise to do my best to make this worth your while.

So, once again, thank you. For answering my invitation. For being here, together, tonight.

Now then-"

They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.

"To new beginnings, and to the bonds we have yet to form. May they bloom as beautifully as the flowers of Rosavelle... oh, that sounded quite good, didn't it? A toast - to all of you!"

As the toast echoes through the hall, the music swells again - a graceful waltz this time - and attendants sweep forward to usher guests toward the buffet tables.

There's something for every palate: platters of lemon-butter shrimp and rosemary-crusted fish, seared scallops on saffron rice and fillets of calendula-cured salmon alongside oysters resting in crushed ice and lobsters cracked open beside dishes of herb butter. It's not all seafood, either - whole roasted ducks glazed in something fruity dot the table, alongside lamb, chicken and a mouthwatering roast beef.

Between the platters, bowls of vegetables offer roasted root vegetables glistening with sweet glaze, delicate salads strewn with edible petals, caramelized carrots, blistered cherry tomatoes and crisp greens grown. And, of course, baskets of warm, golden bread wait beside whipped butter and creamy sauces.

If you're in the mood for sweets, there's desserts in dizzying abundance: sugared fruit tarts, meringues shaped like blossoms, chocolate soufflés dusted with candied violet, and pastries of all kinds filled with custard, chocolate and all manner of fruity, flowery fillings.

A side table gleams with crystal decanters and goblets: bottles of wine, deeply colored mead and delicate floral liqueurs seem to be the alcoholic offerings but there's carafes of chilled fruit water steeped with mint for anyone who's not inclined towards spirits.

If you're feeling bold, the cleared space near the musicians makes a perfect dance floor. Perhaps you find yourself drawn into a dance, or perhaps you linger at the buffet, trading stories with a stranger over a shared plate of sugared pastries. Or maybe you'll take the opportunity to introduce yourself to your host now they've made an appearance.

Eventually, as the night wears thin, the quartet's melody softens to a gentle hum. Candlelight flickers low. The attendants appear once more, smiling as they begin to guide everyone toward the final stop of the evening.

HOUSEWARMING

The banquet winds to a gentle close and ne by one, the guests are gathered once more by the castle attendants who lead the way through dimly glowing corridors. The halls are quieter now, the rosy light of evening filtering through stained glass in sleepy shades of pink and gold. Everyone is lead through the castles and out into the grounds, their splendor only a little dulled by the darkness starting to settle over the castle.

"Your lodgings are just ahead," the lady in waiting says, her voice hushed out of respect for the hour. "You've each been assigned to a house - named for the flowers that chose you."

Slowly but surely, everyone's names are called and each person is supplied a heavy brass key to a house named for a flower you may have seen blooming somewhere today. When they speak the name of your house, something in you stirs with faint, inexplicable recognition, like you know it already - or maybe it knows you.

In any case, the barracks themselves are nothing like the name implies: warm, inviting, and softly lit by enchanted lanterns. Each house has its own cozy common area where low couches and plush chairs are gathered around softly glowing hearths. A long table in the center has been set with some late-night comforts, in case you somehow have any room left in your belly - plates of fruit and pastries, steaming pots of tea, and rich cocoa dusted with rose sugar.

The attendants leave you to settle in for the night, with a promise that the barracks staff will prepare meals from tomorrow onwards but mostly, you'll be left to your own devices. You could just track down your room and crash for the night but now seems as good a time as any to get to know your new housemates.

(CODE)

Comments

B. 'come bother YOU' prompt;

[hjadningavig]

[ Dainsleif is just off to the side, it seems, minding his own business as per the norm.

But, sometimes life comes at you fast, in which it means that it is entirely unavoidable that he will encounter someone having had far too much to drink. And, to be perfectly honest, considering how he is in general, he does understand why someone may indulge. Although the type is, in actuality, not to his tastes, he takes it nonetheless - not for his sake, however. ]

I haven't the opportunity. I tend to prefer something a bit less...sweet.

[ The telltale scent of honey gives the indication that this is heavy in a different way, perhaps. However...perhaps there may be something to trying a new drink. ]

...You seem to have overindulged as well.

[batlan]

[ Ororon smiles, eyes bright, apparently pleased to hand off the glass no matter the reason. moreso to see it off to a familiar soul, though their acquaintance is young yet - especially by Dainsleif's standards, Ororon surmises.

oh well, it's too late now to worry if he's being intrusive by interrupting Dainsleif's solitude. he understands the benefit of careful observation, always, but Ororon knows from his experience back home that integrating into this world will be much harder if they only stand in the shadows all the time. ]

No, no, that one would be an overindulgence, I believe... and now the problem is solved. This one I have is just enough.

[ he lifts his glass in a much less formal toast. ]

It is sweet, but if you're willing to try, you needn't finish it off if you dislike it. This one has a crisp, floral note that cuts through the heaviness of the honey. It's the best of the four, in my opinion.

[ ...he can really hold his alcohol, actually... ]

[hjadningavig]

[ Indeed, even with a bit of familiarity in mind, Dainsleif has seen it as only just as a beginning; though, it is certainly not so bad for an association to be in its earlier stages. Being as it may, it appears that he seems to have misjudged the alcoholic tolerance in this regard.

But, his eyes carefully eye the drink a bit more properly as he listens to Ororon speak, with apparent yet clear mind rather than simply far too addled. ]

...Very well.

[ His words are spoken quietly at first, though he raises his own glass - if only to properly complete the 'casual' toast, but he holds it carefully, before bringing it to take a test sip. As expected, he isn't too fond of it, but he will see how he feels after a few more gulps. ]

In order to make such a precise judgment, it appears that you have had the opportunity to explore the various options available. However, I indeed don't see evidence of overindulgence in the end.

[ Verily after all contained within his grasp, as he swirls it slightly, before looking back at Ororon. ]

I assume then that you have had many the opportunity to share drinks with others before this?

[batlan]

The majority of the evidence comes the next morning, in my experience.

[ maybe he's too good a kid. evidently Ororon's never drank himself blackout before.

anyway: swirling the glass makes Dainsleif look very elegant and sophisticated, Ororon thinks. Dainsleif must be quite used to being a noble advisor to royalty, or whatever it was that Princess Callie intends to debut them to the rest of Rosavellian society as... he knows how to comport himself.

straightening his posture, Ororon tries swirling his glass, too, peering into the shimmering liquid as it reflects the lantern-light. he wasn't expecting anything monumental to happen, and...

hm, well. it smells nice. ]

I recently started brewing my seasonal surplus honey production into mead on my own, back at home. The bulk of it I've had to drink alone while perfecting my recipes...

It's been fun and educational to indulge in someone else's work with others today.

[hjadningavig]

Hopefully, that remains the case.

[ Oftentimes, depending on the person, alcohol can hit far later without too many consequences or as terrible as they so happen to be. Dainsleif himself has a high tolerance, but life experience has more or less shown him either sides with relative ease.

Ironically, unlike Ororon, Dainsleif has had enough time in his life to have, uh overindulged. But, perhaps that is a given, due to how many years he has walked the world. And his circumstances, but it is what it is.

He watches Ororon swirl the glass himself nonetheless. He doesn't take offense, feeling a smidgen of amusement. It makes him realize that some habits die hard, he realizes, and at that note, he takes another sip of his own glass. ]

Consider myself surprised. I would not have imagined that you made your own alcohol. But, the benefits are evident in the here and now.

I do wonder what encouraged you to start up such efforts in the first place.

...That said, I do also understand your sentiment. Immersing myself within celebratory fervor is hopefully bound to remain "fun". [ Said a little perhaps awkwardly. But genuinely? He's trying to socialize and that is what matters. ] And, it is pleasant that we have been offered a variety of food as well as drink to do as we wish with it.

[batlan]

[ it is now Ororon's turn to enjoy a silent moment of amusement when Dainsleif pronounces (and then describes) "fun" like he's had to refresh his memory of the word with a dictionary. he can guess that it's probably been awhile since he's even allowed himself to be invited to a function like this one. Capitano had always given him the impression of a taciturn, yet well-socialized, leader. Dainsleif, on the other hand...

well, Ororon can relate to keeping himself holed up in solitude for way too long, even if he knows everything else about their circumstances must be imaginably different. ]

If the benefit is that I can discern a well-crafted mead... then yes.

[ a nod. he'll take this compliment! amplified by a helpful buzz, it makes him rather happy. ]

We Masters of the Night-Wind are known for brewing concoctions with all sorts of effects, intoxication among them, to use in clairvoyance and healing... and recreation, of course. I learned at Granny Itztli's hip.

[ ...which should explain a lot, given how famously fond Citlali is of her drink, and how many hundreds of years she'd had to perfect the process. ]

My mead is a version of a tribal recipe for aphimead. However, I have another brew of my own that I've been working on - [ he lowers his voice slightly, conspiratorially, and leans in accordingly ] - that one's based on a recipe for fire-water.

[hjadningavig]

[ Dainsleif truly believing he is embodying well the nature of someone who has blended in thus far...alright, facts are he knows that is not quite yet thus far. He's got a while longer before he can clear the adjustment phase well enough with flying colors.

As it is, it seems his words still go over decently enough. He also takes the moment to listen well as Ororon grants explanation about his tribe. Of course, the name is not unfamiliar, as before arrival, he was there to deal with the Abyss Order, even if the two had not crossed paths while he was in Natlan. ]

Hence, it began from what you had learned as a matter of necessity due to the nature of what your tribe crafted on the regular. And, it sounds like an enjoyable experience you've had in each part of the process - from the beginning with family, to where you are now. It'd be a surprise if it didn't bring about fond memories.

[ Dainsleif will muse as it brings some matters into perspective. As he is thinking about this in the typical way that he does, he pays attention at the shift in volume and the shift in position, like he is telling him a secret.

His brows raise as he considers this, though not in the sense of one being perturbed; he's seen such little gestures before. Inherently playful, reminding him of when he has journeyed with the Traveler; he doesn't smile, but a trickle of amusement pokes a touch outwardly into the expression as he listens on.

All the while, as a connoisseur of alcohol, he recognizes the name. It is a potent drink from Snezhnaya. ]

...A recipe based on fire-water, is it? I'm certain even with your experience in making various concoctions and alcohol yourself, that you must know how strong that kind of alcohol happens to be in the first place.

What inspired the decision to go for it in the first place?

[batlan]

Indeed, it's stronger than anything else I've tried to formulate.

[ that isn't the bit that Granny would flick him on the forehead for, however: ]

The Fatui troops in Natlan introduced me to their drink - it was the Captain himself who warned me against consuming too much too quickly.

I still intend to mind his advice, but I'd only had one.

[hjadningavig]

[ Now it makes sense as to the when or where he'd gotten a sample size from.

...He really can't imagine someone like the Captain have allowing anyone to overdo it in his presence. Even with his memories being what they are, he still recalls the type of man he was. ]

Good of him to tell you to enjoy it essentially in moderation. I expected nothing less from the man, no matter where his life currently led him.

However, I also imagine that you'll be looking to try it again someday at least one more time to be certain of your results. I wish you well in continuing to heed his words, and safety.

[batlan]

Then I thank you very much for your well wishes.

[ Ororon smiles slightly into his glass, something wistful entering his eyes and the lowered angle of his ears as he returns to his fuller, non-secretive height and volume. Dainsleif speaks the truth; having met more Fatui since, Ororon now understands that Capitano's strict expectations for his men were precisely what made the those soldiers as well received in Natlan as they were, by the end of the war. many Snezhnayan names are honored among their fallen heroes. ]

...He was a wise and strong man.

[ not a wholly good or just one, but... no one is. Thrain embodied his highest ideals in his final acts, which are the acts that are now foundational in Ororon's memory. not the pain and agony of the abyss, nor the fury simmering beneath his calm. not even the heavy weight of the tragedy that the Captain carried in the void where his heart should have been. the very same void Ororon sensed and thought, all too boldly, 'oh. is he like me?' ]

I would be foolish to disregard anything he taught me.

[ thinking a little longer on his recipe, Ororon already knows he wants to invite Dainsleif to join him for a sampling of that second batch of fire-water sometime, whenever they're back in Teyvat - perhaps it will be more to his tastes than the mead - but then a different question intrusively enters his mind. ]

Master Dainsleif, may I ask you a personal question? ....[ ok he's asking ] Do you sleep?

[hjadningavig]

[ Dainsleif had not witnessed the very moment Thrain had sacrificed himself, though it is again that there is no surprise his actions had such an effect on others. Especially given what he has heard of Natlan's difficulties.

Though, for a person with such a presence to depart, he is certain that there may have been a bit of a shock.

But, maybe not so much in a debilitating way.

Those of Natlan were no stranger to loss; in the end, when that shock faded, it more evidently made an indelible mark, like it clearly has Ororon himself.

Yet, musing the way he does on the matter, he doesn't anticipate that he would be asked such an inquiry. ]

...I do.

[ Though, there is a caveat to that. Does he say? He brings the glass close to himself for another sip.

Perhaps he should, perhaps he shouldn't. But, all the same, if he doesn't speak about it now, he might never - his memory being what it is, he wonders if someday he might lose recollection of even those scenes in his dreams. He wonders if he might simply, then, forget to dream. ]

However, I would not necessarily call it a restful sleep. It could be the byproduct of having survived past the cataclysm itself, which meant that I often see dreams of that turbulent time when I drift off.

[ ...That said, there had to be reason behind the inquiry in of itself. Which has him ask in turn: ]

What made you ask?

[batlan]

Well...

[ Ororon feels a little guilty for speaking so much about a man who isn't even present - and perhaps that guilt is reflected in his eyes, should one look closely - but he does have more than one reason for asking.

the most mundane of which being that he's simply curious about Dainsleif's typical schedule.

the answer gives Ororon pause, while he thinks back to the man he knew. maybe... the Captain chose not to sleep because the torture of staying awake was preferable to the nightmares lurking just behind closed eyes. ]

I never saw the Captain sleep. Often I'm up late at night, and he was the only man at camp still awake to talk with.

[ not that Thrain ever talked much about himself. he left Ororon with many questions, and the impression that some things are still too sensitive to ask about, 500 years later. ]

Anyway, I wondered if you shared the habit.

[hjadningavig]

[ Dainsleif watches the other male curiously, even when it appears his reply is marked by hesitance, but also a sense of guilt. As an individual who observes others rather closely, it's something he can pinpoint, though he certainly can't quite fathom why. Not yet.

More importantly, he speaks about the sleeping routine of Thrain, and it hardly surprises him, either. ]

While I do tend to do what I can to get rest, I have been guilty of many late nights myself. But, not to the extent that Thrain evidently was.

[ It's easy to surmise the route cause. The cataclysm. ]

Surviving Khaenri'ah is not something just any individual can do. Even bearing in mind that those who do exist in some way shape or form are around, their minds and bodies may not be as they once were, as I'm sure you know.

The scars left behind are deep and vast. Thrain must have been the same, of course.

...Though, I hope you don't continue to follow a habit of sleeping late too often. But, if something is keeping you awake on a consistent basis, then you can only do so much.

[batlan]

Of course. I didn't ask him much about his past, but I didn't need to.

[ the physical and mental scars of Khaenri'ah that Dainsleif speaks of are not news to Ororon, who can see as much for himself, even if he cannot fathom their experiences. (even if they can't remember them.) the Natlanese came close to losing everything... but they did not, and that will forever separate himself from Dainsleif and Thrain. he is naive to the pain of total loss and the sting of betrayal.

but Ororon nods in understanding, having little power to do much else. he is grateful for the honest reply, and - in a small, definitely-staying-unsaid little way - relieved to hear that Dainsleif doesn't suffer to the same degree Capitano had, while the man still shared the air he breathed with mortals. at least, not in that way. ]

But, well... [ he shrugs helplessly. ] I think it's in my nature to be aligned with the night. My eyesight works better in the dim, and my brain doesn't like to get moving before noon.

Maybe we'll meet, some late night.

[hjadningavig]

[ Dainsleif nods.

Though, he knows the Natlanese had their own troubles - even if Dainsleif hadn't made it necessarily a habit of entering Natlan territory all too often, it was very clear each time he did manage to take a foot into the place. The stench of the Abyss was never unfamiliar to Dainsleif, as he could always find it if he knew where to look, but for a time the land was rife with it.

Is it simply by miracle that the nation was saved from total destruction? He still doesn't think so. Through loss and hard work...they can rebuild again. Dainsleif believes even in that, Thrain must have found solace, beyond whatever else he achieved with his departure. ]

Then, I feel as if it will be inevitable we will cross paths so late in the first place.

...After all, once someone has become a night owl, it is difficult to revert back to otherwise. [ ... ] It may even be that mutual late nights will also become common due to our apparent necessary future studies.

[ Is he lightly joking about that? Hard to tell with how serious he talks. Well, they will need to learn more about this place and fit in, after all. ]

[batlan]

[ urk.

Ororon is now doing his utmost not to wilt on the spot, because it would very be rude to their hosts...

it isn't that he minds studying. as a matter of fact, he can lose himself in researching a new topic of interest for days - perhaps weeks. he once reorganized an entire ancient tribal library in a personal quest for information.

however: just like anyone - even a stoic like Dainsleif, perhaps, if they're being really honest and open with themselves - Ororon low-key dreads the obligation of rising early and filing into a classroom alongside all the other boys and girls. not only that! - he feels a real desire to do well, and with that comes pressure to do well.

sigh... ]

Do you... think we'll get a lot of homework...? Surely, Master Dainsleif, you're already a natural at this... etiquette stuff.

[hjadningavig]

[ What's wrong with a little homework?

Anyway, Dainsleif himself hardly remembers much of his early days when he entered the Knights, but the rougher parts are easy to still catch onto his mind. Where early rising was a necessity, alongside other rigors as demanded.

The idea of etiquette bothers him perhaps less than having to mingle necessarily - though where that naturally intersects, he feels himself less so inclined.

That is a part of himself that will always remain. ]

We may be expected to do something to that effect. Though, I'm certain they'll know to set their expectations accordingly, considering our general and relative inexperience.

If not, it shouldn't be unreasonable to raise a concern. [ ... ] And, I do have experience in learning etiquette of a kind, even if I will have to start anew like anyone else with a new culture. Still, if you need additional guidance, feel free to simply ask.

[batlan]

[ nothing is bad about homework, in theory...

doing badly on homework, however? awful. horrible. if only he could do perfectly on the first try at everything, Ororon surely would.

Ororon hates to make himself a bother (usually), so when it comes to raising any kind of objection surrounding his inexperience... he hesitates. when it comes to receiving Dainsleif's instruction, however? that feels like a remarkably rare opportunity to benefit from the experience of... well, grand sage master at least, by his own estimation. ]

Really, you'd help me? Yes, please!

we can probably wrap here (or in one more tag!)

[hjadningavig]

[ It has been quite awhile since Dainsleif has helped anyone in anything resembling "etiquette" lessons - but, he has vague impressions from a few of those he once knew a long time ago. The memories feel like shifting sands when he can try to grasp for firmer imprints, though in the end unnecessary to hold onto any longer. He gives Ororon a simple nod, not minding in lending a hand - it does help (no pun intended) that offered to assist, so he is viewing the enthusiasm with an element of positivity.

His response is...mild, but that is how it usually is - even more particularly so after he has forced to be around so many people. ]

Then, I will.

It'll likely be on-going, as necessity will require, so naturally all that will be needed is to establish a schedule. Preferably, I'd imagine an hour or so following what expected time will be when our lessons commence by whoever from this land will be teaching them.

[ Ororon should prepare himself regardless, Dainsleif as no slouch when providing guidance to others himself. ]