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[rathercommon]

crystal | letter | cease and desist notices slipped under her door | action

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[rathercommon]

I don't know if buildings make life worth living.

[ That slips out rather without thought. Which...All right, even if Kitty does think that, which she doesn't really, it's not exactly polite to say that to someone whose family makes their livelihood that way. Rather embarrassed, Kitty mutters - ]

No offense. Sorry.

I used to work in an art shop.

[ Kitty herself isn't fully certain what the point of that statement was - look, I'm allowed to be contemptuous of art, I made my living that way? look, art still existed in the pits of London? look, I'm desperate for something to say? But at least it introduces something beyond let me sneer at something you like. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ lightly, with a graceful shrug: ] I take none. But I do suggest that ones surroundings do a great deal to influence ones spirit.

Look at the Gallows, for instance. [ the name of the island fortress is said with considerable distaste. What a terrible name, honestly. She's already complained. ] It was made to be imposing. Dour. Lifeless and hard. To bear down on the spirits of those who came through it. Imagine instead that it were bright white marble rather than dull grey, the lines curving rather than severe, the entrances lofty and grand, the spaces open and inviting.

Would we not be more proud, to occupy and keep such a space? Proud to welcome diplomats, proud to guard it, proud to keep it clean and bright and beautiful? Or, if for some reason it did not lift ones heart to exist amidst beauty, at the very least it would not make it more weighty.

[ she switches legs, looking back at the limb to clean it properly ]

If it did not matter so, why would we create our Chantries with lofty ceilings? Fill our windows with coloured Seraultine glass? Delight to find a patch of green amidst buildings? A flower in an unexpected place? To see a sky stretching blue from horizon to horizon with a few white clouds like feathers for ornament? No. It matters. And it matters more when there is ugliness in the world.

[rathercommon]

[ Kitty looks over at Alexandrie. Her voice is quiet, now, and steady. As discombobulated as she might feel when it comes to associating with people like Lexie, there are certain realms in which Kitty suffers no lack of self-confidence. ]

Those open spaces and lofty ceilings would have been built by slaves, though. I can't see what's beautiful about that.

[coquettish_trees]

[ Alexandrie replaces her leg in the water and leans her elbows over the side of the tub towards Kitty's. ]

Whether the origin of art can be separated from the art itself is a different conversation entirely from the subject of whether or not beauty has worth in a world that is not always beautiful. Perhaps the... island... is a poor illustration for you. Consider instead an entire city built by well paid and well treated workers to match its aesthetic on one side, and the same city built the way I described.

[rathercommon]

[ A puff of breath from between her lips. ]

Sorry, I'm having a bit of trouble imagining a city like that.

[coquettish_trees]

[ here Alexandrie flicks the surface of the water with slight irritation and a puff of her own breath. ]

I begin to see why you are utterly unable to relax. Can we not have an exercise of thought on an esoteric topic without you creating details you have lovingly designed to make you glum?

Fine. Consider that you may live in one of two places, entirely untouched by any living hands. One is near the wild hollyhocks of the Ylenn Basin, the gentle rolling hills blanketed with their bright blossoms, the gentle breeze under the wide sky blowing them like water and running fingers through your hair, and one is a grey swamp where it rains interminably and the sun is rarely seen. In which area do you think you might feel more alive? More energetic in your pursuits?

[ here she frowns preemptively at Kitty. ]

And if you choose merely to be contrary, I shall be ever so cross with you.

[rathercommon]

[ Well, as a Londoner, she'd certainly feel more at home in the latter. But...giving that answer would be contrary, and Alexandrie wouldn't get the joke anyway. So, with a little bit of a sigh, she admits - ]

All right, yes, the former. And very nice poetry. [ Kitty also doesn't like poetry. ]

But I'm not just being contrary. It's... [ Another little sigh, then - ] I think we're trained to appreciate beauty and love beauty as a means of social control. I mean, just look at what they do to women. How long are ladies - ladies like you - supposed to spend on your appearance each day? And how much time does that take away from things like...reading, and organizing, and fighting?

[coquettish_trees]

[ oh good, she wins. a tiny bit, at least. ]

Oh, hours. But, as to the first and second, those are eminently possible while having ones hair done and becoming ensconced in ones gown. That is also the time I often use to study the rules and powers of whatever society I shall be moving within and keep myself practiced and improving in the languages I speak. I hardly believe myself to be the exception; one must be sharp to move within such circles successfully.

To the third? [ another light shrug ] There are more ways of fighting than those that roughen your hands and encourage scarring, [ shudder ] and the first two are part of them. As is, if we are being honest, ones appearance. It is not just frippery, it is part and parcel of making oneself an effective weapon.

[rathercommon]

[ A shake of her head. She's leaning forward in the tub, now, arms resting along its side, face animated and passionate, eyes sparkling with energy and, in some way, joy. She's a far cry from the guarded and wary girl who'd walked in. ]

But even then, you're working by their rules, aren't you. Men's rules. The rules of the powerful. If you're only claiming the power that's allotted to women - being pretty, laughing prettily, gossiping - then you're not really doing anything to dismantle the power structures that exist. You're accepting the lot that's given to you. And even a rich girl like you has got to be dissatisfied with your lot. I mean, just listen to that talk - making yourself into a weapon. Why would you ever be the weapon when you could be the warrior?

[coquettish_trees]

[ Alexandrie shakes her head slightly, although she answers Kitty's sudden ebullience with a smile of her own. ] Do not mistake me, I am both blade and wielder.

The power allotted to women is a subtle one, but by improving myself, by being pretty, laughing prettily, being clever, clawing my way to the center in the ways that are provided for me, I make it more likely that I find a husband who is himself a fine blade to wield. If I am lucky and clever and pretty enough, I find myself bound to a true partner, and we are a force to be reckoned with. I bear heirs, the family prospers, and we may do such things as make sure our cities are built with well paid and well treated workers. If I am not? [ a small wry half-smile ] Then I bear the price of that failure as a swordsman might bear the price of a poorly executed block in combat.

As far as working within those rules? [ she flicks the surface of the water again. ] It is what it is. Being constantly disaffected with my place in society would bring me more pain, consternation, and sleepless nights than I am given by existing as I do. If it were else, I would perhaps attempt to circumvent them more than I do, which, I suppose, is where revolutions like yours come from. The struggle against a much larger force being less painful than enduring where the force has placed you.

[ and then, a complete digression: ] Have you scrubbed enough? The water is cooling enough that I should like to ring for the next.

[rathercommon]

I - Oh. Erm - give me a second.

[ Kitty had gotten distracted. She grabs for soap and hastily scrubs herself with brisk efficiency as she goes on. ]

You're right, of course. It is much less painful to go along with everyone else. But that's what they count on, isn't it? By ensuring that stability is warm and comforting, they keep things stable. Because when things are unstable, they risk their power. They make it so that the cost of outright disobedience by clever women like you is too high so that to bring them down would be to go against your best interests, too.

[ And then, firmly - ] I'll never get married, myself. I'll never bear children, either. Marriage is a prison and parenthood's a miserable trap.

[coquettish_trees]

[ At the last, Alexandrie's eyes sparkle, and she rests her chin on the heel of her hand. ]

Cherie, you are already married and a mother. [ she waves her hand dismissively ] Perhaps not to a man, and you've not labored to bear a babe of flesh and blood, but you are as faithful and true to your ideals as one might be a husband, and as fiercely protective of and doting on your chosen work as any parent.

[rathercommon]

[ Oh. That brings a faint color into her cheeks. No good reason to blush, but she blushes. ]

I mean...I suppose. I mean, I guess I do detest my cause, sometimes.

[ Anyway. She gives a little nod as she sets the soap aside. ]

Okay, I'm done. We can do new water now.

[coquettish_trees]

[ The blush gets a widened grin, and then Alexandrie rises, water sluicing down her, to get up and walk it unconcernedly all across the floor to give the hanging bell-pull a deft tug before moving to sit on a chair that had been draped in a clean soft linen for this express purpose. ]

What is love without a little blood, no?

[ it won't be too long before a small platoon of very clean and very efficient women are appearing to empty and remove the tubs, replacing them with high-backed oval copper ones that are summarily filled with water that steams a bit more energetically than the previous. The small tables that had held soap and sand are whisked clean and filled instead from the back table's selection of herbs, flowers, and different oils before the two women are again alone.

It's a little dizzying, to be honest, but Alexandrie looks as if everything is in perfectly normal order. She's already dipping a toe in the water and looking satisfied. ]

May I recommend the lavender?

[rathercommon]

[ Kitty had gone red and flustered as soon as the troupe of women had come in - but she's not the first shy guest they've dealt with, and she won't be the last. One of them fetched her a robe to cover up with as they refill the tub; she's wearing that robe now as she awkwardly sticks a fingertip into the water. She looks up as Alexandrie makes her recommendation, then gives a little nod and fetches the lavender. With it goes a large sprig of rosemary and sage; she's been applying these spirit-warding herbs habitually since the early days of the Resistance. ]

Thanks. For the recommendation.

[ She shucks the robe and slips into the water quickly and rather agilely, revealing a minimum of skin. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ She's into the tub, and letting out a happy sigh at the just shy of scorching heat of the water, leaning back against the raised edge to rest her head on the small pillow attached to it before reaching a hand out languidly to retrieve and sniff each little vial of oil in turn until the rose is found and added. ]

Nails shall be done, but there is also the potential for a nice massage seeing as you seem to favor the more physical side of combat.

[rathercommon]

Massage?

[ Kitty's face plainly reveals her dismay. ]

Isn't that - rather a lot of touching?

[coquettish_trees]

[ A pause, and then Alexandrie raises an eyebrow. ]

Inasmuch as having your physician visit to examine you when you are ill is a lot of touching, yes.

[rathercommon]

[ She shakes her head. ]

There's a lot less of it then.

[coquettish_trees]

I mean in that it is entirely professional touching. But you are very welcome to stay in knots if that is your preference.

[ Kitty's so tense, she just assumes there are knots.

Alexandrie pauses briefly, and then gently: ]

You are not accustomed to closeness of any variety, are you.

[ It's not actually a question. ]

[rathercommon]

[ She doesn't want to stay in knots, particularly, but...Well, part of it's her propriety, yes. The thought of letting some stranger touch her freely is horrifying. And part of it's her sheer wariness; how easy would it be, a knife slipped into her back while she's laying face-down all unawares? And - yeah, maybe part of it is her, and the strangeness of a touch. The Joneses were never very...hug-happy.

Of the excuses she can give, she decides that the least personal is probably the safest. So she answers: ]

This won't mean anything to you, but - I'm English. The English aren't renowned for their closeness. [ Certainly not as expressive as the French - and yes, Alexandrie is Orlesian, not French, but it really does seem to be the same thing. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ Kitty's right, 'English' doesn't mean anything to Alexandrie specifically, but it doesn't have to for her to be able to connect to the idea of a national culture that shapes ones social mores, so she nods. ]

Then as it should not be relaxing, it shall not occur. The water will do some of that manner of work, at least. I shall not tease you on it; after all, it is not as if I occupy a safe place from where to fling stones at those who avoid intimacies of one ilk or another.

[ She pauses a moment, and then smiles oddly, leaning back again. ]

See? I keep my promises.

[rathercommon]

Yeah, you do.

[ That's not hard to admit. This Alexandrie is definitely a contrast to her usual airheaded self. Thoughtful and articulate and self-aware - ]

I wish you'd always be like this.

[coquettish_trees]

[ Alexandrie has any number of rejoinders to that, considers them as one might an array of shoes. In the end, though, she just looks a little sad, reaching to pick a dried rose petal off the table nearby and float it on the surface of the water like a boat far from land. ]

Wishes are dangerous, cherie.

[ She'd used to make them. That was before she learned that each one put a little loop inside you that could be tugged at, used to pull you about. All honest desires could be used in such a way.

The heat of the water slowly soaks and weakens the curved shell of the petal, and she watches it sink with a sort of amused wistfulness. Ah, poor thing that succumbs to both its nature and the water's.

What would she wish, if she still engaged in such folly? That there was truth in the way they touched?

Such things were not for people like them. ]

They are how we create little pretty flickers of false hope that we may someday have what we may not. Mirages, where suffering thirst, we consume sand.

[rathercommon]

[ If you'd told Kitty, after their first conversation, that she'd be feeling a pang of emotion for Alexandrie du et cetera and so on and so forth (Kitty doesn't think she'd be able to remember the girl's first name if she had a knife to her throat), she'd have laughed. But she feels that pang of emotion now. Obviously, the rich have got it better than common folk like her - obviously - but...

There is an agony involved in having an alternative. Some of the members of the Resistance, Fred, for example - they were born to such miserable poverty that they'd never had any other choice. There was no chance for a life that was anything but utterly abject. But Kitty'd had a home, and two parents, and a shot at a comfortable career as someone's secretary. It would have been easy, after Mr Pennyfeather had paid her debts, to just go back to the quiet life. Sometimes it was even tempting. But at the end of the day, the temptation was weak enough that breaking away was like snapping a string. Ladies like Alexandrie, though - they're bound to that temptation by lovely silvery bejewelled chains, though, aren't they?

Poor thing. ]

Mirages are also sometimes what keep you moving through the desert, though. [ Not that Kitty's ever been out in a desert, but - she's read adventure stories. ] Keep you going till you reach the other side.