Lechance

8 in the morning seemed very early for a call, but Effie hadn't wanted to wait any longer. Indeed, she was ready half an hour before, sitting nervously in the window and trying to focus on her work as distraction from the butterflies in her stomach.

At five to eight, she gave up any pretense at calmness, checked her hair one more time, bit her lips, pinched her cheeks, smoothed her skirts, and went down to the hotel lobby to await Mr. Ibis' arrival.

It was too much to keep to herself. Still clutching both the box and Mr. Ibis' last note, Effie almost ran down the stairs, heading for the hotel lounge. Hoping that someone would be there that she could talk to.

A neatly carved box, perfectly sized to fit the bobbins he made, with her name carved inside. A note's on top.

When may I see you?
-JI

Julian arrived at the hotel at 10 of 7 with a small potted coreopsis and a tiny basket of four apples. He had another chaperon with him, a lady in her thirties who was laughing at him. Julian made a face at her, sent his card up with a maid to Effie and waited in a parlor.

Ms. Gallehawk,

If you'd be amendable, I'd be honored to call upon you on Wednesday evening at 7.

Thank you,
Julian MacKallister

Although the earthquake had caused no damage to Effie's delicate bobbins, several had been damaged in her journey, and when she came to trying to find a pair for her gimp thread, the discovery that all but one of her thumpers had snapped in transit drove Effie out of the hotel, the precious intact bobbin wrapped in a bundle of cloth to protect it along with one of the broken ones. Ms. Hastings accompanied her as chaperone, and Effie was dressed in the green gown that Hattie had so generously lent to her, much more comfortable in the warmer climate.

Mr. Ibis' workshop was simple to find, and she paused at the doorway, blinking into the dim interior, and knocked against the doorframe to attract attention, a little nervous and her heartrate increasing a little in anticipation of seeing him again.

Merely as a slightly familiar face, of course.

"Mr. Ibis? Are ye available?"

Effie woke in complete bewilderment, followed by fear as she felt her bed shaking. No, not just her bed, her room. The entire building. She yelped, clinging to her bed (which didn't help as that was also shaking) and followed centuries of instinct, hiding under her covers.

Once the world had stopped quaking, she peeked out timidly, then ran, snatching her cloak on the way to the door and wrapping it around herself on the way to the stairs, no stopping until she was outside and a good distance from the hotel, still surrounded by buildings, wide eyed and shaking herself, holding her cloak tightly around her, barefoot in the early morning chill and staying within sight of Ms. Sheedy and the chattering crowd of people forming in the street.

"Excuse me," she asked hesitantly of the nearest person. "What...what was that? What's happening?"

Sunday morning dawned grey and wet. Still warm, which was something strange to Effie, to feel warm rain. It made the day seem heavy, slow, and the air harder to breathe, weighted down with water. Still, Sunday was Sunday, and meant gathering her prayer book and hymnal and walking over to the cathedral with Ms. Sheedy and several other Beloveds who chose to attend morning service.

The service was a gentle one, on the parable of the talents, and Effie had quite forgotten the rain by the time she stepped outside again. She had a rapid reminder, though, at the sight of small clumps of people gathered talking under umbrellas around the path, and moved back into the porch, tucking her books under her cloak with one hand while reaching for her hood with the other. It was too warm for the cloak, really, but she had no umbrella.

After a moment or two, she became aware of someone else taking shelter in the porch, and offered a shy smile. "I had begun to wonder if it ever rained here," she confessed.

Santiago was pleased to find that his one suit of good clothes had survived his travels with no need of repairs. He inspected himself in the mirror carefully and hoped Miss Effield Gallehawk would not fault him for his lack of a decent pair of gloves.

He greeted Mr. Herman Montrose, the Two Spirit who was to be chaperone for this call, and they chatted little on the short walk to Ms. Sheedy's hotel. Once there, he took off his hat, presented his card to be taken up to Miss Gallehawk to inform her of his presence and went in to the parlor to wait.

Santiago's cards were plain and unadorned. His handwriting was strong and bold; he took care to make his note readable.

Ms. Gallehawk --

It would be my pleasure to call upon you Friday afternoon at 3:30 if such a time proves to be convenient for you.

Thank you,
Mr. Santiago de le Vega

( Letters to Ascendants )

( Beloved )

Effie had lifted the gloves from her pillow the night before, and carefully pressed them between clean handkerchiefs inside her bible. This morning, she packaged them up, wrote the destination address in neat script on the outside of the parcel, and requested the services of one of the chaperones to accompany her to the post office.

It was a fine morning, and a treat to be outside in precious daylight rather than using it to continue work on her next commission, but bobbins could be wound by lamp light and she was hardly overwhelmed with work. Her mind was still on the possible stitches she could use in the panels of the fan when they reached the post office and she stopped abruptly, clutching her parcel securely to her chest and stepping back when she saw someone on their way out. "Oh! Excuse me, please, I didn't...please, after you."

The market square was covered in a large tent, glittering candles lighting up the green and the cobblestoned area. There was a feast, laid out for all new arrivals from the week before. Not all of the city were there by any means, though all had been invited. Still. The party was some 500 strong, food was readily available wine flowed, and there was dancing, a live band playing lively music.