folly in fugue

Item #1: i probably won't tweet ever again. lol. OCD is a magnificent beast and i mean that genuinely
Item #2: i still try to log in to check my messages every now and then, and i browse privs/circles while i'm there
Item #3: i saw a lot of things
Item #4: i don't remember ever being the kind of person to say "i would NEVER do an incorrect quotes fic" but even if i was/were,
Item #5: everything i do i do well. or so they tell me...

Lora - "Chef's kiss? Do...do they really?"
Minoth - "The bird flu? Yeah, they do that."
Hugo - "You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"
Addam - "What's upstairs? They can't talk!"
Aegaeon - "Based? Based on what?"
Brighid - "Apartment complex? I find it quite simple."
Mythra - "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."
Haze - "Wood-fired pizza? How's pizza going to find a job now?"
Jin - "You're telling me a ginger bred this man?"

"Now, gather your fingers together, and position them on the back side of the onion."

Lora fumbled momentarily, pinky wrapped over ring and thumb screwing up the whole ordeal. Eventually, however, with help from her other hand, she succeeded in manufacturing a child-size claw grip with which to attempt safe (safe!) chopping motions.

Soon enough, the onion was in rough pieces. Usable, for stew.

"Jin!" The knife was careening dangerously through the air now as Lora tried to contain her excitement. "What's that called?"

"Chef's kiss," Jin said automatically as he held up his hand, fingertips skyward. She'd appreciate something like that.

The knife fell. "Chefs kiss? Do...do they really?"

Lora sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the small satchel dedicated for that pseudo-sanitary purpose (in other words, the cloth was rough and the road's wear only made it invariably rougher).

"Asthma again?" Minoth joked. Lora glared at him.

Another few titanpeds passed by in a silence broken only by more sniffling and swallowing.

"Okay, but seriously, now. Are you okay?"

Both stifling motions charged an insistent shake of head. "Just the bird flu."

"The bird flew?" Minoth pursed his lips. "Yeah, they tend to do that."

Knowing very little about asthma in any practical sense, he could only conclude that no born sufferer could knock him down with as much ferocity.

"Since I'm the one with no real-" Minoth waved a noncommital fork "-stake in the whole thing, any more than anyone else, and since you said we're...bonded brothers, or whatever..."

Down fork went to bowl, then back up to meet mouth before boot could get any further in.

Hugo smiled. "Of course, Minoth. I have nothing but the greatest appreciation for other cultures, but it is often more pleasant to be able to enjoy them with another who has no predetermined bias.

"This food is as fascinating as it is delicious." He speared up a piece of his own. "For instance, you're telling me that a shrimp fried this rice?"

"Remind me, Addam, are there any guest rooms on the upper floors?"

"What's that, dear Hugo?"

Despite his initial pleas for intimate address, Addam seemed only to invoke epithet for his friend when he was up to mischief. His arms had been crossed, all gravity, as he gazed up at the forebode that was Aureus, but now his own center leaned back, following hands to hips.

Hugo, however, was perfectly amenable to careful, if avuncular, clarification. "I asked you what's upstairs."

"What's upstairs? They can't talk!"

Only then, under the sound of the bastard prince's belly laugh, did the emperor's constant, equanimous expression begin to tend toward an undignified imperial sourness.

Addam's manor study, despite being nominally unoccupied for upwards of a year, was a mess. Not exactly a surprise, but confounding nonetheless.

"I'm telling you, Aegaeon, the way the militia is based is beyond me. I'm just trying to keep up with them."

"Based?" Aegaeon frowned, widening his stance and propping armored fingers to armored chin. Though he wasn't necessarily a strategist, at least not by title or awakening designation, he believed in keeping the mind sharp, even limber. After all, a defender, no matter how tanklike, was most useful if it avoided attacks entirely.

This, however...this was confusing. "Based?" he repeated once more, musing to himself. "Based on what?"

Aegaeon, Shield of the Empire and its emperor in particular, was a nervous rambler of the highest echelon; small talk rarely came without notes of anxiety. With Brighid on his arm (Hugo had directed them to promenade through the rest of Auresco without him), the inane became brilliant.

"It amazes me to think that I had forgotten how they structure public housing in Torna."

"Really?" Brighid's eyes, invisibly, were darting all manner of elsewhere. "Is there nothing else that amazes you?"

Aegaeon continued: "Indeed, these...apartment complexes, they-"

But Brighid interrupted him, to her point: "Apartment 'complexes'? I find them quite simple."

"You...do?"

"Certainly, Aegaeon. Let's look at something else."

"You'd better be careful, Mythra. It wouldn't do for you to trip on the bridge with those clod feet of yours."

Biting down on a retort about Brighid's own unmistakable silhouette was almost impossible. What did she even want Mythra to do? Mince around at half the speed, and never get anywhere? Except when she was using Siren, which she wasn't allowed to do.

Instead, Mythra replied (politely?), "I don't see why I'll trip on the bridge specifically, if I'm such a clod."

Brighid gestured. "There's road work ahead. I suppose I shouldn't expect you to be paying attention."

Prissy Jewel. "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."

"Haze! I've been looking everywhere for you."

Though Haze spun on heel to meet her caller gracefully enough, her hands didn't fly to her chin nearly as nonchalantly as she might have liked.

"M-me?"

Mythra nodded, nearly winked. Goodness, she was confident!

"Who else? I thought we'd make our weekly snack run. Or whatever you want to do."

"Of course!" Thank the heavens she'd suppressed another stutter. "What did you want to eat?"

"Oh, well..." Mythra's toe scuffed the ground. "Maulton told me about wood-fired pizza from Sorrel's café? Or- or something else!"

But Haze's face had already fallen.

"Would fired? But...how is Pizza ever going to find work now?"

"You mean to tell me that a ginger bred this man?"

Jin's voice was always peculiarly nasal, which, unfortunately for Haze, meant that one could never quite tell when he was hiding a smile - a rare event, to be sure, but when it happened...

"No," she began slowly, fingers pinched together in concentration, "it's ginger-bread. Like a pastry? With Ruska Flour and spices!"

"I thought you said it was a cookie."

Just there, the vowel sound of "thought" was particularly suspicious. Yet, she couldn't blame Jin for being confused...!

This never ended well for her.

Sighing, Haze gave Jin's forearm a conciliatory pat. "I'm sure whatever you make will be delicious."

discarded summary text...:

*person who is completely unqualified to love TTGC and is actually ruining it for everyone else* I LOVE TTGC!!!