[Gale receives a present delivered to his room in the Down Public Housing.
The gift contains one of the following (your choice or at random): • a couple pairs of warm winter socks, • mittens (fleece-lined wool), • a knitted bobble hat, • a small tropical peppermint cake (homemade from a Tyrian recipe--peppermint roll cake with mango compote), or • some peppermint omnomberry bars (likewise homemade; in the absence of real omnomberries, he's substituted lingonberry and redcurrant).
The hats, mittens, and socks are not homemade but store bought and in a variety of colours and patterns--your choice!
For an optional encounter with the giver, go here.]
[ Not everyone knows that there's a pub on the floor underneath Honestea, but that awareness has no doubt grown as a result of Jamie Tartt now working there. Yennefer suspects that the increase in the number of Guiltea's patrons has little to do with her own promotional efforts and everything to do with her newest employee encouraging people to come visit him so he doesn't get bored.
There are signs posted around the tea shop to advertise the pub, but it's rare for Yennefer herself to extend a personal invitation to Guiltea — at least until Gale walks into Honestea for the first time. The conversation that plays out between them is innocuous enough, with little to indicate more than casual interest, and Yennefer doesn't necessarily know what compels her in the moment, before they part ways, to suggest that Gale return later on in the evening to experience the lower floor for himself. It could be the fact that he's outwardly very attractive, or that he outwardly professes an interest in discussing magic. It could very well be the visible line tattooed down his throat, and the accompanying realization that she currently finds herself without a submissive. It could be all of those things, and none of those things; she isn't willing to pause and reflect that deeply, even long after he's left.
By the time night falls, Yennefer's not under any illusion that he'll actually pay her a visit, or linger beyond the polite duration of an hour or two, but she's down in the belly of the pub nevertheless, not currently perched behind the bar but sitting in one of the reserved booths, framed by plush red velvet seating and the flicker of candlelight from her table. Occasionally, her gaze strays to the door leading down into the basement, but for the time being, she's currently engrossed in the rather boring task of reviewing inventory lists, taking a sip from the mug of hot apple cider next to her every so often.
Someone shifts to stand in front of her, and her gaze lifts, a polite smile emerging when she recognizes the figure in question. ]
Gale of Waterdeep. What a pleasure it is to see you again — and so soon after our last conversation.
[ Gale wouldn't mind seeing Jamie again either, but there is exactly one attraction drawing him to the pub tonight, and it's not the craft beer or the newest employee's ass. It's also not, as he firmly tells himself, the owner's striking violet-eyed beauty, no matter how deep or long-held a weakness he might have for that exact kind of beauty--no, he's not so shallow as that, is he? He wants to think not. But neither is it completely about the promise of discussing another world's fascinating foreign magic.
He thinks it's about her voice. Unlike Yennefer, he's more than willing to reflect and pick apart the reason why he hadn't even considered declining to show up, but it doesn't actually get him any closer to a conclusion, except...something about her demeanor had simply not made him think of the invitation as optional. Of course it had been, and Gale is not even ordinarily a guy who wants to leave his cozy stack of library books and go out after dark in weather like this, but here he is nonetheless. And even her polite expression of pleasure makes him feel like that was the right call. He smiles back. ]
A graciously-extended invitation from the proprietress herself? How could I have refused?
[ Of course it hadn't previously escaped Yennefer's notice, how attractive Gale is, but there's something markedly different about being reminded of it in the strong light of day versus something that arguably feels much more intimate — various candles, and hanging lanterns that covertly mask bulbs rather than open flame, casting a warm glow over the basement space. ]
Good point. You can't.
[ She intends it as more of a tease, a clever rejoinder primarily meant to be joking, but there is a deeper implication present that she doesn't initially consider — the possibility of whether he would outright refuse if she ever told him to do something, and the thrill that might elicit.
For the moment, though, she simply gestures to the open section of booth across from her, a clear invitation in it for him to join her there rather than remaining standing. ]
Sit, please. [ She issues the encouragement more politely, rather than as an order, but her gaze is still carrying her smile, shining in a way that betrays her lingering amusement. ] Can I order you something to drink? We have all the usuals — ale, mead. I've got cider here. [ She absently touches the side of her own mug for a moment. ] Though you've already rescued me from the fate of studying boring numbers.
[ He recognizes the teasing when he hears it, doesn't actually take it at face value, and yet--something subtle and very brief lights up in his eyes at the blunt, commanding certainty of her tone.
At the inviting gesture, he likewise acquiesces without a word. Not too quickly, not suddenly enough to seem embarrassingly eager, but promptly, in a way that speaks of respect. Only at this last comment does something teasing and flirtatious enter his own smile again. ]
Your knight in magic armor. Lucky I arrived when I did, then.
[ He starts to consider what sort of ale he might be in the mood for, or to inquire after the wine selection, but pauses. ]
What might you recommend? You know the establishment best, after all.
[ It's a variation on a type of saying Yennefer's heard before, but something in it this time makes her brighten, subtly, when Gale offers it between them. She's well aware that there are others here in possession of various magics, even if they're vastly different from her own chaos, but it also leaves her undeniably curious about any similarities — and wondering how long she could occupy him with questions about his own sphere before the hour becomes too late for either of them.
At the moment, though, she watches him slide into the booth with a quietly pleased look, lips curving, but one brow quirks when he cedes the choice of drink to her. Is the implication that he'll be happy with whatever she orders for him? Is he yielding to her authority as a dominant, or simply exercising politeness? It's difficult for her to discern, but she briefly signals to one of her employees working behind the bar with a lift of her chin. ]
Ale, perhaps? Though you'll have to tell me if you prefer more of the lager or the stout.
[ Her gaze returns to Gale's as she leaves the final selection up to him, though it's clear there's no wrong answer here. ]
Hello, friend! You will have to forgive me for not contacting you sooner. This city takes him quite a bit of our time. How are you fairing? Have you spoken with Astarion? You traveled for some time if memory serves me correctly.
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Christmas Eve Delivery
The gift contains one of the following (your choice or at random):
• a couple pairs of warm winter socks,
• mittens (fleece-lined wool),
• a knitted bobble hat,
• a small tropical peppermint cake (homemade from a Tyrian recipe--peppermint roll cake with mango compote), or
• some peppermint omnomberry bars (likewise homemade; in the absence of real omnomberries, he's substituted lingonberry and redcurrant).
The hats, mittens, and socks are not homemade but store bought and in a variety of colours and patterns--your choice!
For an optional encounter with the giver, go here.]
guiltea meetings;
There are signs posted around the tea shop to advertise the pub, but it's rare for Yennefer herself to extend a personal invitation to Guiltea — at least until Gale walks into Honestea for the first time. The conversation that plays out between them is innocuous enough, with little to indicate more than casual interest, and Yennefer doesn't necessarily know what compels her in the moment, before they part ways, to suggest that Gale return later on in the evening to experience the lower floor for himself. It could be the fact that he's outwardly very attractive, or that he outwardly professes an interest in discussing magic. It could very well be the visible line tattooed down his throat, and the accompanying realization that she currently finds herself without a submissive. It could be all of those things, and none of those things; she isn't willing to pause and reflect that deeply, even long after he's left.
By the time night falls, Yennefer's not under any illusion that he'll actually pay her a visit, or linger beyond the polite duration of an hour or two, but she's down in the belly of the pub nevertheless, not currently perched behind the bar but sitting in one of the reserved booths, framed by plush red velvet seating and the flicker of candlelight from her table. Occasionally, her gaze strays to the door leading down into the basement, but for the time being, she's currently engrossed in the rather boring task of reviewing inventory lists, taking a sip from the mug of hot apple cider next to her every so often.
Someone shifts to stand in front of her, and her gaze lifts, a polite smile emerging when she recognizes the figure in question. ]
Gale of Waterdeep. What a pleasure it is to see you again — and so soon after our last conversation.
no subject
He thinks it's about her voice. Unlike Yennefer, he's more than willing to reflect and pick apart the reason why he hadn't even considered declining to show up, but it doesn't actually get him any closer to a conclusion, except...something about her demeanor had simply not made him think of the invitation as optional. Of course it had been, and Gale is not even ordinarily a guy who wants to leave his cozy stack of library books and go out after dark in weather like this, but here he is nonetheless. And even her polite expression of pleasure makes him feel like that was the right call. He smiles back. ]
A graciously-extended invitation from the proprietress herself? How could I have refused?
no subject
Good point. You can't.
[ She intends it as more of a tease, a clever rejoinder primarily meant to be joking, but there is a deeper implication present that she doesn't initially consider — the possibility of whether he would outright refuse if she ever told him to do something, and the thrill that might elicit.
For the moment, though, she simply gestures to the open section of booth across from her, a clear invitation in it for him to join her there rather than remaining standing. ]
Sit, please. [ She issues the encouragement more politely, rather than as an order, but her gaze is still carrying her smile, shining in a way that betrays her lingering amusement. ] Can I order you something to drink? We have all the usuals — ale, mead. I've got cider here. [ She absently touches the side of her own mug for a moment. ] Though you've already rescued me from the fate of studying boring numbers.
no subject
At the inviting gesture, he likewise acquiesces without a word. Not too quickly, not suddenly enough to seem embarrassingly eager, but promptly, in a way that speaks of respect. Only at this last comment does something teasing and flirtatious enter his own smile again. ]
Your knight in magic armor. Lucky I arrived when I did, then.
[ He starts to consider what sort of ale he might be in the mood for, or to inquire after the wine selection, but pauses. ]
What might you recommend? You know the establishment best, after all.
no subject
At the moment, though, she watches him slide into the booth with a quietly pleased look, lips curving, but one brow quirks when he cedes the choice of drink to her. Is the implication that he'll be happy with whatever she orders for him? Is he yielding to her authority as a dominant, or simply exercising politeness? It's difficult for her to discern, but she briefly signals to one of her employees working behind the bar with a lift of her chin. ]
Ale, perhaps? Though you'll have to tell me if you prefer more of the lager or the stout.
[ Her gaze returns to Gale's as she leaves the final selection up to him, though it's clear there's no wrong answer here. ]
text; @ilikeducks