open: don't let the wine go to your brains

[untamedantinous]

It shouldn’t be this hard to prepare for a meeting. He’s done it countless times before. However, this time, it somehow is difficult. He’s never really had to set things up at times like this; and he knows as well as anyone else that he is not the best at social niceties. Granted, this meeting is in a much more well-appointed cafe than any he had ever been accustomed to holding space in in Paris. At least they have the benefit of a larger space. Consequently, Enjolras has spent much of the day of the eighth of Menestheus preparing, a little uncertain of how to plan a social gathering that is not immediately centered around planning a revolution. He is trying his best, at least.

Most of the tables and chairs have been pushed a bit more to the center of the room; the couch is arranged off to the opposite side. There are even various pillows scattered about, should anyone choose to sit on the floor. Arranged on a few of the larger tables and the counter there is a modest spread of food: of course, some of Laertes and Galahad’s pastries; but Enjolras has also procured what amounts to a few charcuterie platters: sliced sausages and meats, a selection of (mostly French) cheese, and various sliced loaves of bread and crackers are laid out for perusal, and spreads to go along with them. In an effort to provide multiple options of entertainment, Grantaire has set up a table somewhat near the food, with an assortment of wines and liqueurs. Off to one side, there are a few pots of brewed coffee, cream, sugar, and whatever else anyone might like to add to their beverage of choice. If anyone is drawn to the liquor cabinet, they will find three cups filled with various pieces of paper sitting atop it.

Enjolras himself is lingering on the couch with a glass of wine and some bread. He’s not sure how many people were even informed about this gathering, though he had done his best to advertise. If no one arrives then perhaps he will try again another time; but at least a few in attendance other than himself and Grantaire would certainly be welcome.

Comments

[vineleaves]

“Oh I would never impose! Don’t worry!” He laughs, shaking his hands to emphasize his point. He then adds, “But if there’s ever anything I can do for you don’t hesitate to ask!” He can be useful sometimes!

[new_inglewoodblues]

Oh, she's being offered favors! That's different.

All told, Ragnelle has spent her three years in Camelot getting used to being disrespected by the majority of Men: the men treated her like a yielding, subordinate creature, and the women treated her like an equal. Only her husband could be reliably expected to look at and speak to her like something to be cherished, an exceptional gift that had been generously bestowed on him, and it was part of why she liked his company so much. If she bade him stay with her rather than attend to his other duties, he would stay; if she bade him miss a tourney where he ought to have won honor, or kiss her carelessly in plain view of everyone, or bring her some hard-to-find delicacy, he would obey, because he loved her.

Here has not proved remarkably different from Camelot in the main, but there have been bright spots -- Magnus, whom she adores; Little John, who leaves her cream, and Kade, who makes her bright ribbons; and of course the interesting witch-women, who she likes very much but who have shown no recognition of what she is (she leaves Gu Xiang pointedly off her mental list). On the other hand, a number of the residents have said things along the lines of if you need anything, if there's anything I can do, if you should get cold, and she's finding she likes that very much.

"What canst thou do?"

[vineleaves]

"Oh, lots of things¹." He shrugs. "If you mean what powers do I have as a god though, it's a little more, ah, specific." He holds out a hand. A mess of vines begin growing, then dissipate, leaving behind a bunch of grapes, which he then offers. "I can also make wine."

1. Debatable.

[new_inglewoodblues]

As it happens, plant-growth-based powers are probably the thing most likely to get her good opinion, and she takes the grapes with a look that isn't quite impressed, but probably as close as she's going to get to it.

"That's well," she says approvingly, and then, after a pause, "Couldst thou grow a bower thereof?"

[vineleaves]

"I suppose so, as long as you don't mind it being only grapevines."

[new_inglewoodblues]

"My winter home hath been despoiled, and I like not the house to live in," casting her eyes at the walls around them. "An I find a place betimes that likes me I would have thee shape thy vines unto a bedchamber for me -- I'll furnish it myself."

[vineleaves]

"And it's so cold out too! My poor dear, you'll catch a frost! Simply name the time and I'll do what I can."

[new_inglewoodblues]

"Ay, so I will. When 'tis light tomorrow, an the weather hold."

[vineleaves]

“Of course!”

He’s hoping he’ll be able to find an alarm clock when he gets back to his room.

“Out of curiosity, what should I call you?” He’s careful not to ask specifically for her name, as he knows that can be… a tricky subject among certain populations of fae.

[new_inglewoodblues]

"Dame Ragnelle is my name," with an airy toss of her masses of hair. "Call me so."