Wysteria does not go anywhere sedately; she travels at a constant clip, and so it is entirely impossible to determine if her rush to the ferry this afternoon is due to a pressing appointment or simply because that is her default pace. Regardless, she hardly pauses at all in reply to the shape of her name—merely turns, clocks the person calling out to her, and continues clattering down the stairs toward the ferry landing at only marginally reduced speed.
"Oh hello, Derrica! Please, do come along. We can discuss the matter as we go. Unless it has something to do with the office of the Seneschal. I'm afraid I have retired from my duties there since Messere Pizzicagonolo's departure. You will have to direct your concerns to Enchanter Black directly if that is the case."
Something learned: Wysteria moves far faster than one would assume.
But Derrica does manage to catch up, and subsequently keep pace with her, all the way down to the ferry and onto one of the narrow benches along the side. At which point, Derrica clasps her hands over the satchel in her lap, takes a few deep breathes, and then smiles before she begins.
"I've no need of the Seneschal's office, thankfully."
However—
"But I do have something I meant to give you. For your wedding. It's only small, so you shouldn't worry about it being a bother to carry along on your errands."
The transformative effect of first surprise and then delight on Wysteria's countenance is both instant and brilliant despite the shade cast by her somewhat expansive hat.
(She is trying very hard to save what remains of her complexion for the season.)
"Oh, how thoughtful! But hardly necessary. And yet still so very appreciated! I promise to convey the thing to Monsieur de Foncé as well at the earliest opportunity. I can't promise he will remember to express his thanks as such things tend to slip his mind,"—Derrica, he will say. Who is Derrica? You can't possibly expect me to know everyone you might happen to meet in the world, Mademoiselle—"But I assure you that he will be quite grateful."
By comparison, Derrica's soft smile is quite muted. There's some minor apprehension over what she's presenting, certainly, but the immediacy of Wysteria's pleased reaction is encouraging on it's own.
"It's alright. I know he is devoted to his work."
And Orlesian. Riftwatch is home to many odd Orlesians, but Derrica has noticed they tend to communicate any given thing in a very roundabout way. Or in the opposite of how she would expect. But either way—
"Here. This is for you both."
At which point a small cloth-wrapped bundle is drawn out of her bag and set directly onto Wysteria's lap. It's been well-insulated in it's wrappings, but once all have been pulled aside—
What had she been anticipating? She can't say; she holds it only a short time before unraveling the cloth carefully folded about it. And then—
A pine cone.
"Oh."
It is not an Oh like a disappointed oh. It is pitched high like a bewildered question attempting to masquerade as politeness. After a blank moment, Wysteria carefully picks up the pine cone in both her hands.
"Oh," she repeats again, adding "How charming," and then finally, "What is it for?"
This is not so unexpected. Wysteria is a Rifter, and even if she weren't, Derrica's invoking an old custom. She smiles a little, drawing up one leg to hook beneath her knee as she turns in towards Wysteria on the narrow ferry bench.
"You and Val should plant it together," Derrica explains, some soft humor in her voice. "It's sort of a superstition. Planting it at the start of your marriage will help it to grow strong, you see?"
Without knowing very much of either of them, nor of the quality of their relationship prior to the marriage, Derrica cannot say exactly whether or not they need the help. But it seems a safe thing to give any new couple: a well wish to carry with them.
"I've something else, but it's only for you. I think brides should have something of their own."
This is not anything but Derrica's own opinions, wary of the entire institution. Wysteria can be forgiven any assumptions about what Derrica might have set aside as a follow up gift, though surely it isn't difficult to outstrip a pinecone.
Perhaps later Wysteria will feel some flicker of regret for this. It is, after all, a very thoughtful and sweetly sentimental gift. The only problem is the couple it has been gifted to. Strength is perhaps not the word one selects for a farce marriage.
But in the moment, the novelty of the thing clearly pleases her. She laughs a little, for funny little superstitions like this are naturally endearing, and is already carefully beginning to rewrap the pinecone for safekeeping when Derrica reaches brides having things of her own.
She straightens, that mercenary gleam sparking in her eye again.
"That's exceptionally thoughtful of you! And quite unnecessary, I assure you. But I'm very grateful."
"It's only a little thing," Derrica cautions, perceptive enough to clock the expression on Wysteria's face and attempt to settle expectations in the face of it. "Give me your hand."
Also might raise some false expectation, as all Derrica deposits into upturned palm is a light packet of stiff paper, folded over and knotted with twine. The parcel comes apart easily, only the slightest pull needed to bring it open and reveal it's contents: a deep green stone, polished and shining, woven round with gold and copper threads to secure it on a slender gold chain
"It's aventurine," Derrica tells her. "It brings luck for new ventures. I thought it was appropriate."
Now this is a gift one might appreciate in a far more straightforward fashion, if Wysteria's squeak of delight is any indication. She promptly fetches up the necklace by its delicate little chain, the dark stone twirling idly there at the end thanks to both the momentum of unwinding from her palm and the fair breeze coming off the water as the ferry clips along.
"Oh, it's perfectly lovely. I don't know that I've worn a stone for very dark before. It is quite mysterious."
From the admiring timbre of her voice, mysterious must be one of Wysteria's highest compliments. There is nothing quite so grand as to seem a little dark and unknowable, now is there?
Her attention flits past the stone to Derrica then; her smile is quite broad, bright in a fashion which is unaffected and untempered by any thought to look charming rather than just pleased.
Is there anything more satisfying than a gift being well-received?
Wysteria's clear appreciation eases some of Derrica's lingering worry. At least one gift will come to some use. The pinecone, well—
Tradition is not always so exciting. If Derrica thinks maybe she should have given Wysteria bread and honey as well, she doesn't let herself consider it for more than a moment. It's all done, at long last.
"You're welcome. I'm sorry not to have given it to you sooner," Derrica tells her, turning fully on the bench and tucking one foot up beneath her knee. "I hope you don't mind."
Wysteria's scoff is a powerful thing from deep in the lungs. Clearly she has practice deploying it for a wide variety of uses.
"Nonsense," she announces, lowering the stone and the fine little chain back into her palm. This she mindfully tucks into one of the expansive pockets of her skirts. the pinecone might travel safely in hand through Lowtown, but is seems irresponsible to tat about with a necklace in her fist. And lovely as it is, it doesn't exactly coordinate with her day's wardrobe.
"It is very thoughtful all the same. I hope I will have the privilege of returning the favor one day. Though I realize from personal experience that it is quite difficult to find a suitable husband while in Riftwatch's service."
It's a sweet sentiment. Derrica smiles over it as she leans one elbow on the rail running behind the wooden bench.
"That's very kind," she says, sincere over the words. "But I'm very sure you won't have an opportunity for something like that."
A statement that's extremely easy to mistake as an indictment of Riftwatch's potential husbandly offerings, when it has very little to do with the men in question at all.
"You could promise me that you won't hold it against me if the seeds don't bring you and Val a tree."
That is undoubtedly precisely the mistake the Wysteria makes for she makes a soft and sympathetic noise and nods with a particular Intimate Understanding. There is a reason such a large percentage of Riftwatch's members are unmarried, and it isn't because they are all fantastically eligible.
"You have my humble oath. Though of course I have every confidence that it will grow."
Is, she thinks after, a very silly thing to say. Now she will be obligated to convince Valentine to actually plant the thing somewhere. But there is something about sitting there opposite of Derrica which sparks some impulse to be agreeable.
The Understanding is observed, though when coupled with something akin to sympathy Derrica has the sense she's been misunderstood. She allows herself a moment to consider clarification, then dismiss the idea.
Instead, a widening of her smile at Wysteria's agreement.
"I hope you'll let me come and see it when it does."
But, not to wind them both into too many promises hinging on the well being of a small plant—
"Will you tell me a little of the wedding? I heard it was interrupted by spirits, but it must have been lovely before that, yes?"
Her flickering smile might easily be Why yes of course I will let you come see mine and Valentine's love tree, and certainly is not Should I plant this now and then laugh about it once everything has been annulled.
"Perfectly so. Warden Adrasteia and Lady Asgard did a commendable job with ordering the whole affair, and the weather was very agreeable—a lucky turn, you will agree, seeing as the whole thing was largely out of doors. At the time I was very cross about the spirits thing, but I can admit now that there is some satisfaction to be had from a thing being so memorable that it's widely discussed."
And it's hardly as of anyone died or was serious injured, so where is the harm in the slight posession of the event? Perhaps not the best omen for a new partnership, but that is hardly much of a concern at all given the givens.
"Have you been to many weddings? Now that you have left your Circle, I mean."
The moment of hesitation is more for that you have left your Circle than for the consideration of weddings. The latter is easily answered, and the former is best left alone.
"No, actually," she says. "But I think if more of them were to have spirits, I would try to attend them."
A little joke.
"I remember having been at some when I was very small. But it's different, when you're a child. You know how it is. You barely realize what's happening."
"Well if you should like to make the acquaintance of a spirit, you need another say the word and I will introduce you to one." This too is light, taking on the impression of a joke. Ha ha ha. Yes, they are both incredibly witty and clever.
But never mind that. For— "I believe that is the best time to attend wedding. If it isn't yours, I mean. No one expects a child to do any of the dull parts such as making pleasant conversation with the person sat next to you."
On the list of funny jokes to tell a Seer, this one is pretty high up there.
And while Derrica isn't exactly ready to casually discuss that aspect of her life, she is admittedly quite out of her depth in actual discussion of weddings.
"Wysteria, how many weddings have you gone to?" feels like a pertinent question. "Not counting your own, of course."
"Oh, at least two dozen. And those are the ones which I remember. I have a great many cousins and second cousins and cousins twice removed and my mother took great pleasure in traveling to oversee every variety of occasion. Not because she enjoys the festivities, of course. Only I think that there is nothing she loves quite as much as being able to complain about riding in a carriage, or needing to stretch her legs, or the the unevenness of a road and so on."
She is, in so many words, quite an expert on the subject.
(Weddings, not carriage rides. Although perhaps those as well given these circumstances.)
What a strange thing to consider, being in possession of such a sprawling family. Derrica's head has tipped to rest on her hand as she listens, marks out the idea of this abundance of cousins.
"Two dozen is a great deal of weddings," is her first, mild response. It might have been the only commentary, and Derrica might have asked after the novelty of a large family. What was it like to grow up so surrounded.
But now, instead she decides to question: "So you know what you'd prefer for your own wedding, when the time came?"
Unlikely to have involved spirits, but surely the rest—
Well, had she known? It's a very odd thing to consider so long after the fact. In the moment, swept up in Adrasteia and Alexandrie's support and enthusiasm, it had been quite easy to have all manner of opinions. What must be eaten, what must be had for drink, that music and dancing was required, and all the silly little things that must be seen to. It hadn't been her intention to be so specific (after all, it wasn't meant to be a proper wedding or a proper marriage), and yet how easily she had been induced into a state where she had allowed herself to be.
"Well yes. I suppose I did know." How odd. "But I can't say that was the purpose of having been to say many. It was more of a— a social obligation, I suppose. Or at least, that was my impression of them at the time. Pleasant ones, to be sure. Or at least the dancing usually was. The ceremonies are all almost quite universally dull in my experience."
Though there is some kind of curiosity in the question. What had it felt like for Wysteria to do such a thing? Was it boring even in the midst of making those kind of promises in front of so many people?
She laughs. It's a bright, ringing bell sound which carries on the water about them far more pleasantly than Wysteria's shrill natural patter.
"I'm only making fun, of course. It was perfectly well. And besides, I have never been to a Thedas wedding so there was at least some novelty for the particulars. The next one I attend will be, I'm sure, quite terribly unthrilling now that I'm so familiar."
"Oh it would be very thrilling to see a Queen be married—" is what she begins to say before the full implication of these questions strikes her. Once it does, some gleam alights in Wysteria's blue eye. Her attention narrows to Derrica then, a canny sharp point.
"Why, Lady Enchanter. I'd no idea that you were so interested in current events. You must come along with me when next I visit Lady Asgard for tea. We are the pair of us always looking for some new subject to discuss."
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"Oh hello, Derrica! Please, do come along. We can discuss the matter as we go. Unless it has something to do with the office of the Seneschal. I'm afraid I have retired from my duties there since Messere Pizzicagonolo's departure. You will have to direct your concerns to Enchanter Black directly if that is the case."
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But Derrica does manage to catch up, and subsequently keep pace with her, all the way down to the ferry and onto one of the narrow benches along the side. At which point, Derrica clasps her hands over the satchel in her lap, takes a few deep breathes, and then smiles before she begins.
"I've no need of the Seneschal's office, thankfully."
However—
"But I do have something I meant to give you. For your wedding. It's only small, so you shouldn't worry about it being a bother to carry along on your errands."
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(She is trying very hard to save what remains of her complexion for the season.)
"Oh, how thoughtful! But hardly necessary. And yet still so very appreciated! I promise to convey the thing to Monsieur de Foncé as well at the earliest opportunity. I can't promise he will remember to express his thanks as such things tend to slip his mind,"—Derrica, he will say. Who is Derrica? You can't possibly expect me to know everyone you might happen to meet in the world, Mademoiselle—"But I assure you that he will be quite grateful."
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"It's alright. I know he is devoted to his work."
And Orlesian. Riftwatch is home to many odd Orlesians, but Derrica has noticed they tend to communicate any given thing in a very roundabout way. Or in the opposite of how she would expect. But either way—
"Here. This is for you both."
At which point a small cloth-wrapped bundle is drawn out of her bag and set directly onto Wysteria's lap. It's been well-insulated in it's wrappings, but once all have been pulled aside—
A pine cone. In all it's glory.
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A pine cone.
"Oh."
It is not an Oh like a disappointed oh. It is pitched high like a bewildered question attempting to masquerade as politeness. After a blank moment, Wysteria carefully picks up the pine cone in both her hands.
"Oh," she repeats again, adding "How charming," and then finally, "What is it for?"
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"You and Val should plant it together," Derrica explains, some soft humor in her voice. "It's sort of a superstition. Planting it at the start of your marriage will help it to grow strong, you see?"
Without knowing very much of either of them, nor of the quality of their relationship prior to the marriage, Derrica cannot say exactly whether or not they need the help. But it seems a safe thing to give any new couple: a well wish to carry with them.
"I've something else, but it's only for you. I think brides should have something of their own."
This is not anything but Derrica's own opinions, wary of the entire institution. Wysteria can be forgiven any assumptions about what Derrica might have set aside as a follow up gift, though surely it isn't difficult to outstrip a pinecone.
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But in the moment, the novelty of the thing clearly pleases her. She laughs a little, for funny little superstitions like this are naturally endearing, and is already carefully beginning to rewrap the pinecone for safekeeping when Derrica reaches brides having things of her own.
She straightens, that mercenary gleam sparking in her eye again.
"That's exceptionally thoughtful of you! And quite unnecessary, I assure you. But I'm very grateful."
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Also might raise some false expectation, as all Derrica deposits into upturned palm is a light packet of stiff paper, folded over and knotted with twine. The parcel comes apart easily, only the slightest pull needed to bring it open and reveal it's contents: a deep green stone, polished and shining, woven round with gold and copper threads to secure it on a slender gold chain
"It's aventurine," Derrica tells her. "It brings luck for new ventures. I thought it was appropriate."
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"Oh, it's perfectly lovely. I don't know that I've worn a stone for very dark before. It is quite mysterious."
From the admiring timbre of her voice, mysterious must be one of Wysteria's highest compliments. There is nothing quite so grand as to seem a little dark and unknowable, now is there?
Her attention flits past the stone to Derrica then; her smile is quite broad, bright in a fashion which is unaffected and untempered by any thought to look charming rather than just pleased.
"It's a very fine gift, Derrica. Thank you."
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Wysteria's clear appreciation eases some of Derrica's lingering worry. At least one gift will come to some use. The pinecone, well—
Tradition is not always so exciting. If Derrica thinks maybe she should have given Wysteria bread and honey as well, she doesn't let herself consider it for more than a moment. It's all done, at long last.
"You're welcome. I'm sorry not to have given it to you sooner," Derrica tells her, turning fully on the bench and tucking one foot up beneath her knee. "I hope you don't mind."
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"Nonsense," she announces, lowering the stone and the fine little chain back into her palm. This she mindfully tucks into one of the expansive pockets of her skirts. the pinecone might travel safely in hand through Lowtown, but is seems irresponsible to tat about with a necklace in her fist. And lovely as it is, it doesn't exactly coordinate with her day's wardrobe.
"It is very thoughtful all the same. I hope I will have the privilege of returning the favor one day. Though I realize from personal experience that it is quite difficult to find a suitable husband while in Riftwatch's service."
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"That's very kind," she says, sincere over the words. "But I'm very sure you won't have an opportunity for something like that."
A statement that's extremely easy to mistake as an indictment of Riftwatch's potential husbandly offerings, when it has very little to do with the men in question at all.
"You could promise me that you won't hold it against me if the seeds don't bring you and Val a tree."
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"You have my humble oath. Though of course I have every confidence that it will grow."
Is, she thinks after, a very silly thing to say. Now she will be obligated to convince Valentine to actually plant the thing somewhere. But there is something about sitting there opposite of Derrica which sparks some impulse to be agreeable.
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Instead, a widening of her smile at Wysteria's agreement.
"I hope you'll let me come and see it when it does."
But, not to wind them both into too many promises hinging on the well being of a small plant—
"Will you tell me a little of the wedding? I heard it was interrupted by spirits, but it must have been lovely before that, yes?"
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"Perfectly so. Warden Adrasteia and Lady Asgard did a commendable job with ordering the whole affair, and the weather was very agreeable—a lucky turn, you will agree, seeing as the whole thing was largely out of doors. At the time I was very cross about the spirits thing, but I can admit now that there is some satisfaction to be had from a thing being so memorable that it's widely discussed."
And it's hardly as of anyone died or was serious injured, so where is the harm in the slight posession of the event? Perhaps not the best omen for a new partnership, but that is hardly much of a concern at all given the givens.
"Have you been to many weddings? Now that you have left your Circle, I mean."
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"No, actually," she says. "But I think if more of them were to have spirits, I would try to attend them."
A little joke.
"I remember having been at some when I was very small. But it's different, when you're a child. You know how it is. You barely realize what's happening."
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But never mind that. For— "I believe that is the best time to attend wedding. If it isn't yours, I mean. No one expects a child to do any of the dull parts such as making pleasant conversation with the person sat next to you."
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And while Derrica isn't exactly ready to casually discuss that aspect of her life, she is admittedly quite out of her depth in actual discussion of weddings.
"Wysteria, how many weddings have you gone to?" feels like a pertinent question. "Not counting your own, of course."
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She is, in so many words, quite an expert on the subject.
(Weddings, not carriage rides. Although perhaps those as well given these circumstances.)
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"Two dozen is a great deal of weddings," is her first, mild response. It might have been the only commentary, and Derrica might have asked after the novelty of a large family. What was it like to grow up so surrounded.
But now, instead she decides to question: "So you know what you'd prefer for your own wedding, when the time came?"
Unlikely to have involved spirits, but surely the rest—
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Well, had she known? It's a very odd thing to consider so long after the fact. In the moment, swept up in Adrasteia and Alexandrie's support and enthusiasm, it had been quite easy to have all manner of opinions. What must be eaten, what must be had for drink, that music and dancing was required, and all the silly little things that must be seen to. It hadn't been her intention to be so specific (after all, it wasn't meant to be a proper wedding or a proper marriage), and yet how easily she had been induced into a state where she had allowed herself to be.
"Well yes. I suppose I did know." How odd. "But I can't say that was the purpose of having been to say many. It was more of a— a social obligation, I suppose. Or at least, that was my impression of them at the time. Pleasant ones, to be sure. Or at least the dancing usually was. The ceremonies are all almost quite universally dull in my experience."
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Though there is some kind of curiosity in the question. What had it felt like for Wysteria to do such a thing? Was it boring even in the midst of making those kind of promises in front of so many people?
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She laughs. It's a bright, ringing bell sound which carries on the water about them far more pleasantly than Wysteria's shrill natural patter.
"I'm only making fun, of course. It was perfectly well. And besides, I have never been to a Thedas wedding so there was at least some novelty for the particulars. The next one I attend will be, I'm sure, quite terribly unthrilling now that I'm so familiar."
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Which is maybe a roundabout way of considering: who else among their number might eventually marry?
"Or do you think you'll have to wait until Queen Anora chooses someone and hope Riftwatch is able to send a few people to the wedding?"
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"Why, Lady Enchanter. I'd no idea that you were so interested in current events. You must come along with me when next I visit Lady Asgard for tea. We are the pair of us always looking for some new subject to discuss."
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putting a bow on this so derrica can't escape sorry