Christening

In suddenly remembering the existence of this account, I have opted to make a little post. This will be no commentary, although I might be prone to making rantings and whinings for future posts. Some may be in straight English, some may be in Taglish, but they will all have one thing in common: Nonsense.

There.

As of late, I have been attempting to write fiction. Poor attempts, but they are still attempts. Because of said attempts, I've found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I wish to continue the story but I have two ways of going through with it. The first one allows for a quicker pace, and will allow a more evident tension (albeit perceived only by the protagonist) between two characters. The second one allows for an excuse to have this chapter reaching a near smut-like state.

Now, I have an idea how both scenarios will play out, which means the actual struggle to write either piece will not play that big a role in my decision. I suppose the two sides warring at the moment is what I try to pass off as my integrity and my primal desire to do fan-service. Except, replace fan with self 8D

It's the old "Do we write for ourselves or for others" only in my case it's for approval. Whichever will get more people to read and comment on my works. I've talked about this with a friend, and I just ended up deciding to go with the first option. I still wrote the second scenario though, because, well, I felt like it. And here is where I shall post it :3 In case you were wondering what this little work of fiction is, I suggest you look here.

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The "missing" part Three of Chapter Four

The next day, Pandre decided the best way to keep herself occupied until Lady Almathea's ball was to drown herself in activities. She would take inventory of the things in the pantry and larder, then reorganize the contents of her armoirs, tend to her garden, and possibly finish that needlework project she had begun months ago.

Yes, that sounded like enough work to keep her busy, it quite possibly could last her until Josiah's return. She smiled, pleased with herself as she studied her list of tasks. She made her journey towards the dining hall with no sound, save for the rustling of her skirt long skirt. Her mind was too preoccupied with the list, she hadn't even noticed the small parcel lying atop the dining table. It was when she sat down and and had reached for her fork that she caught sight of the small package wrapped in butcher paper and tied with multicolored ribbons. With no note attached, Pandre could only guess whom it came from. The first name that crossed her mind was Seduise, if only by the faint scent of roses that lingered on the ribbons.

She supposed it could have come from Josiah, or her parents, or even from Lady Almathea. She bit her lip, wondering how this would affect her schedule. Then again, was the schedule so important? So long as she was at Vanguard Manor she would be fine, wouldn't she? Yes, that was reasonable.

Delicately she began to undo the ribbons and carefully opened the package. Inside was a small envelope, resting atop a pair of beautifully embroidered sandals. They seemed oddly familiar to the brunette, perhaps she had seen them in a bazaar some days ago? The note would hopefully shed some light.

Dear Paddy,

I am ever so sorry that it took so long for me to return your shoes to you. I'd have brought them over yesterday but they were ruined in the rain. Not to mention Mama-Hawke insisted that I stay home and wait until the storm lets up. The silly old woman, I know she means well but doesn't she realize I come from Morroc? Rain is nothing to us! We are an invincible people! At least when it comes to water. Sandstorms, dear Paddy, are another story. They sting something fierce.

Oh oh oh, I got off track, these shoes are a replacement for the ones I ruined. I tried to clean yours up and fix the little bows and such but I'm afraid I'm no good at needlework. By the way, Mama-Hawke tells me that you are rather talented in that area. Perhaps you could teach me some time?

That is if you've forgiven me. Which is why I had this dropped off instead of delivering it personally like I first wrote I would. I hope to hear from you soon.

Love,
Seddy

Pandre stared at the note for a few a few moments and then at her list of tasks. She requested the closest available servant to fetch her a quill, an inkwell and a small roll of parchment. Once the aforementioned writing instruments had arrived, she hastilly added at the bottom of her list: Teach Seduise simple needlework.

Once finished, she composed a short but simple response to Seduise's letter.

Dear Seddy,

To show you that I bear no ill-will I would like to invite you for a brief introduction to needlework and embroidery. Would later this afternoon be convenient for you? I wouldn't want to intrude on any of your plans after all.

Pandre hesitated on how she was to sign the note. Should she write "Sincerely" or "Yours"? Or should she mimic Seduise's own letter and sign it

Love,
Paddy

It had been a full five hours since Pandre sent her invitation to Hawke Manor. She'd already eaten lunch and was nearly done with taking inventory of the larder. The brunette could help but feel worried, had something happened to Seddy that she was unable to respond? Or had the servant given the letter to the wrong person? So many things could go wrong, so many circumstances beyond her control. Pandre supposed worrying was better than the alternative, which was to feel slighted. For that meant Seddy had received her invitation but hadn't the decency to answer. And after Seduise wrote about how much she wouldn't want to lose their friendship, Pandre would feel justified in her ire.

She was quite ready to work herself into a conniption when the butler half-ran into the larder to announce between wheezes

"Lady Hawke has arrived."

Pandre's eyes widened, "What?!" By Odin, she hadn't prepared the materials! She hadn't had the sitting room readied. Helplessly she looked at the butler, then at the larder and its contents, then back to the servant.

"Shall I have the cook prepare tea and a dish of fruit preserves?"

"Y-yes, and bring them to the sitting room along with my needlework and a spare set."

The butler quirked a brow but said nothing, he merely bowed and shuffled off to follow her instructions. Pandre hastilly left the inventory notes in the larder, atop some of the jars of pickled meats. She'd retrieve them later, after Seduise had left. For now she had to see to her guest. The rustle of Pandre's skirt echoed through the halls, enjoying its duet with the heels of her shoes. When she neared the doorway she stopped to catch her breath, her chest heaving from the mad dash she just did. She glanced at her reflection in a nearby mirror and adjusted her hair and clothing, she'd have to look presentable.

Even if Seduise did catch her by surprise.

"Seddy, what a pleasure you could make it." Pandre greeted warmly as she entered the foyer.

"Oh Paddy Paddy Paddy Paddy Paddy!" squealed the blonde as she embraced Pandre, practically scooping the smaller woman into her arms. "I was so happy when I got your invitation. I was sorely tempted to just rush on over but I held myself back. I was just so glad you still wish to be my friend."

Pandre felt Seduise's grip around her ribs tighten, and she gave a soft squeak of pain. The blonde crimsoned and released her before getting into a frenzy of apologies. The brunette laughed and calmed her friend down, assuring her she was alright.

"Milady, everything is ready." The butler declared with a low bow.

"This way, Seddy." Pandre smiled, linking her arm with Seduise's as she led the Morrocan to the sitting room. The sitting room was a fairly small room, capable of housing just half a dozen people at a time. There were two plush arm chairs accented with leib olmai fur, two deep mahogany rocking chairs lacquered to perfection, four ottomans with eclipse-slips and a settee stuffed with griffon down framed by matching tables.

In the seat of each arm chair was a basket filled with needles, pin cushions, spools of thread, thimbles, several squares of cloth and an embroidery hoop. One basket had these materials in pristine condition, as if it hadn't been touched before. The other had a work-in-progress in its hoop and it lacked thimbles.

Pandre bade Seduise sit and explained what each item was and what it was for. The brunette patiently showed the blonde each stitch and what they were called, "Maybe you should use a thimble for the moment, Seddy?" Pandre suggested as she watched Seduise struggle to pierce the tightly stretched cloth with the needle.

"No, no I- eeek!" Seduise yelped, dropping her hoop to the floor. She sucked on her index finger, whimpering. "M-maybe you're right..."

Pandre chuckled and once again resumed her instruction. She couldn't supress her laugh at how silly Seduise looked with the thimbles on her fingers.

"Paddy, how come you don't use one?" the blonde pouted playfully. The brunette looked thoughtful before she answered.

"Well, I've been doing this for a while now, and- ow!" Pandre winced, pulling her finger away. A pin-prick of crimson blossomed on the tip of her finger.

"Paddy!" the needlework was discarded, and her body left the arm chair. Wordlessly Seduise took Pandre's hand to inspect her wound. Pandre knew it was nothing life threatening, it would sting a bit but it would close just as quickly as it had opened. "Oh my poor Paddy..." Seduise murmured.

"I-I'm fine, Seddy." Pandre blushed as she tried to draw her hand back.

Seduise held fast, "There, there, I'm certain it hurts more than you say. A kiss should make it feel better." Seddy whispered and raised the brunette's finger to her lips. Pandre winced slightly at the stinging sensation, but it was quickly forgotten as her body grew warm from Seduise's touch.

"I knew it hurt," Seduise sighed, "Another kiss might be in order..." and she bent down, until she could stare deeply into Pandre's eyes. The Pronteran sat frozen, transfixed by Seduise's hypnotic gaze and by how those cherry lips drew closer and closer to hers.

"Paddy..."

A tightening in her chest.

"Paddy..."

A quickening of her pulse.

"Paddy...?"

A fluttering of her eyes and Pandre realized Seddy was still seated in the arm chair, staring quizzically at her. "So, why don't you use thimbles anymore?"

"I'm... I'm just used to handling needles, I suppose." Pandre stammered, her cheeks flushing. What is wrong with me? She frantically wondered, I can't control my dreams, but I'm awake now aren't I? Why... Why was I thinking of such things?

Pandre suppressed a cry of frustration (which was no easy feat) and continued as if nothing had happened.