patisserie lysitherie: preparations

[notimeforfailure]

[a. video, un: charon, ota]

Good evening, Trench. The grand opening of... [she frowns as she says the next part] the Patisserie Lysitherie is currently scheduled for November 15th, pending any horrible Trenchian incidents. So most likely, November 30th.

As we prepare for transition into our new space, I'm seeking a few things.

First, Architects or anyone good with woodworking and metalworking to remodel the existing building and to install a few necessary appliances. I need more ovens. Anyone interested in helping with the business is welcome, too, of course.

Second, if any recreational businesses are interested in a steady supply of pastries - for instance, a café or a bookstore - I'm open to partnerships.

Third, if you've got a cake or a sweet from home you're just dying to experience, I'd like to start collecting recipes from all of you Sleepers. I began this business to revive my beloved nostalgic sweets, but I realize... I'd like to be able to bring that experience to others, too.

[b. Willful Machine, early November, ota]

Augh!

[There comes a loud explosion from a rather derelict building in the middle of the Willful Machine district. A half-dozen thumps and clangs follow. ...Then the upper story of the building drops about three feet, releasing an enormous plume of smoke that settles over wary shoppers and merchants.  A girl covered in a thick layer of dust stumbles out ten seconds later and falls backwards on the ground.]

I suppose... that takes care of the rodent issue.

[The building belches out a gout of flame behind her.]

[c. Lysithea's home (Gaze), early November, for new and old customers, employees, or other general CR]

[With the bakery operations in full swing and the storefront not yet ready, Lysithea's home is in perpetual activity. Whether she's fulfilling orders, experimenting with new pastries, or bullying her employees, Lysithea works tirelessly to make her dream a reality. For the time being, her work as an Arcane Scholar in the School of Mutter is suspended as she focuses on her craft.]

Look out - hot pan behind you!

Yes, yes, of course - I can do a dozen mini-cakes for you by tomorrow; that won't be a problem.

Here to collect? If you would sign this form here and fill out what you plan to trade...

You've procured the cinnamon? Wonderful! How much did it cost us? Did you have to give up the hematite?

[Regardless of why you're here, she'll open the door with smudges of honey and chocolate all over her face and an exhausted, though satisfied expression.]

Comments

[payingfordeliverance]

[Break never fusses when she does this. It's a compliment when people who know perfectly well that he can't see totally forget this fact, honestly. Also inconvenient, mind, but good for his pride to know that no one is automatically thinking to baby him.]

Baltus, darling, stop warbling a moment and come read this for me.

[Anyway it turns out his omen can show him things telepathically and he has just kept this to himself all month long, so there is also that. With a snort, Baltus slinks over and stands behind Break, draping his snoot over the man's shoulder as he carefully relieves Lysithea of her paper and holds it for the borzoi to examine. Break is all kinds of reliable, at least. Just on his own time and in his own way.]

Well. This isn't exactly something life or death, is it? You have a great many people who want to support you, so -- a project like this isn't the sort of thing that will cost you a safe place to sleep or having enough to eat if it doesn't do as well as you would hope. [Hell, Break would offer her a guest room at his own place if she needed one. The horrible homesickness and grief of the past several weeks, finally eased now, kept him stiff and a little distant all through October, but he's taken a proper shine to her all the same or he wouldn't be here.] Since that's the case, can an attempt to pull off something that will make a great many people happy in a very stupid world really be called "foolish"?

[notimeforfailure]

...Huh?

[Lysithea finally sits upright to watch the spectacle of a smoke dog reading her blueprints telepathically to her employee. She has the appearance of somebody watching a minor miracle: water turning to wine or fig trees being cursed to death, perhaps. Despite this, she is too fatigued to make a big hullabaloo about this revelation.]

Huh.

Have you been able to do that this whole time? I don't know if I ought to be impressed or irritated that you've been making me read recipes out loud to you.

But you're being very generous, thank you.

[She finally stands, with an effort.]

If it's foolish, it's because one always feels rather fatuous when one invests too much of their heart.

[payingfordeliverance]

Yes, but it's really only useful for things like this. Too difficult to match up with what he's looking at unless we both hold very still like so, you know?

[To be fair he makes Lysithea read recipes to him because Lysithea actually knows what they mean if Break has questions. That's a legitimate reason! And he is going over her blueprints with an honest seriousness. Moments like this make up for Break's general existence as a deliberate pain in the patootie, which is basically all the other moments.]

...better to be a fool who cares too much than a fool who cares too little. This bit here that spins around -- that ought to go in the window, right? With lots of little lights about the frame, and pretty decorations. When there's snow all about this winter, that will be just the thing that says, "Come in, come in."

[notimeforfailure]

This?

[She carefully brushes off the topmost layer of dust from her clothes before stepping up beside Break and reaching gently for the piece of paper.]

This is the Spinning Tower of Cake. ...Name still being workshopped. It's going to be the first thing people see when they walk by the store. Right... here.

[She gestures towards a spot in front of them that currently has the appearance of a poorly painted plaster wall.]

I used to salivate in front of shops like this when I was a little girl. Of course, I always knew they were a distractor - I had to focus on my studies, but the sweets became my one indulgence.

You'll think it silly, but I did have a dream to go around and just... sample delicacies from all over Fodlan. If I didn't need to throw myself into my magic.

[payingfordeliverance]

You spend an awful lot of time reassuring me that you're embarrassed about all this, you know? I don't think it's the slightest bit silly.

[Break, too, peels himself off the ground and pats his trousers off, uselessly. The parasol stays out, as the building is still smoking.]

I imagine it's more common than not, for us "sleepers" to find ourselves free of the duties that bound us in our old lives. It's certainly true for me, and my household. Since that's the case, it only makes sense that simple old dreams might be coming to light again, right?

[Less than an hour before Break fell in battle, Oz had expressed a wish to hold a proper tea party for everyone, when it was all done and the world was saved. Everyone present knew damn well that not all of them would live to see it, and the willingness to dream anyway touched Break so much he carried the thought with him as he fought. Oz is here in this world now, dead as well and missing those left behind, and hasn't breathed a word about any tea parties since they arrived. Of course Break will encourage a young lady to open a beautiful bakery, like the ones she loved as a little girl.]

[notimeforfailure]

[Lysithea glances away, the expression on her face faintly ill at ease.]

I'm not prone to sentimentality. I'm supposed to be a bastion of practicality and sense, you understand. Indulging in these kinds of thoughts is a novel experience for me.

[translation: this is embarrassing, baka.]

But yes. You're right. My old dreams are impossible to achieve here - or indeed, simply irrelevant. I was urged to redirect my efforts towards something meaningful, something I could build for myself.

...It's a little easier to say these things to you, you know. We didn't know each other... before.

[This is not exactly a coherent statement, but there is a ring of truth. It is difficult to present yourself as changed around old friends.]

[payingfordeliverance]

...no. We did not.

[Sliding his free hand into his coat pocket, Break stands casually, staring at the building in front of them for all the world as though he can actually see it. He can't, but even if he did have his sight, he'd wouldn't truly be looking at it at all.]

I had a daughter, at home. She called me her big brother, but -- she was still very young when we met, and that was simply how she was told to address me when I fell into her life. After her mother passed, to me, she became a daughter. Hah...she used to scold me endlessly for treating her like a child. However, even as I realized she'd become a strong young woman when I wasn't paying enough attention, I could never forget the little girl who was so eager to share her favorite fairy tales with me.

[This is the first time Break has given Lysithea any concrete information about his past beyond his having been a swordsman once; generally his natterings are the usual cryptic, indulgent encouragements. The daughter in question is too precious a subject to give to just anyone, but Trench tormented him with the loss of her during October, forcing him to discuss her in that context. To speak of her freely now because he himself is choosing to do it feels good and satisfying -- a way to reclaim his control over the way he holds onto the life he left behind.]

Mm...the two of you would have been grand friends. I think it often. Knowing that...I'm sure you'll forgive me my insistence on being grossly sentimental at you. A tired old man like me simply can't help it.

[notimeforfailure]

A -- daughter?

[The curious thing about Trench (and Deerington) is that familial ties were stripped, replaced with the friends and family of one's choosing. The idea that Break had left behind a cherished daughter is a surprising jolt. Since Jubilee, she had known no one else who claimed to be a parent. It was one thing to be pulled from one's home as an adolescent or a young adult - this was inevitable. Quite another to leave behind someone who depended on your care.]

I'm sorry.

Your heart must ache.

[His description of this daughter is... familiar. A flush steals across her cheeks.]

She does sound like a kindred spirit. And I suppose it's only fair... that if you indulge my whimsies, I indulge your sentimentality.

What is her name?

[payingfordeliverance]

[Break bows his head, briefly, in acknowledgement of her sympathies. Baltus is more of a betrayal of his feelings as usual, finally solidifying himself enough to sit on Break's foot and lean against him.]

She is the Lady Sharon Rainsworth.

[No one will ever replace her -- nobody can ever replace anybody else and you can't get back what you've lost, that's just how it is. But, as Lysithea is noting, there are enough similarities there to make it obvious why Break is so cheerful about getting bossed around and sent off on quests by a feisty young woman half his age. It's nostalgic enough to ease the ache, somewhat, even if he does enjoy her company for its own sake.]

"Kindred spirits" is just the right way to say it, I think. If the two of you were to join forces, I should never get away with any funny business ever again.

[notimeforfailure]

Hm.

You say that like I'd let you get away with funny business now.

[Her tone is more severe than it would be if she were entirely serious. That being the case, it is difficult to tell.]

Lady Sharon Rainsworth...

It's funny the way you describe her. When I was younger, what I hated most of all was being treated like a child. I'm sure we felt exactly the same. It hasn't happened in some years now, but... the tongue-lashings I would give!

I think some of my friends did it just to see my reaction.

Regardless...

[She will not acknowledge any idea of a 'replacement.' For one thing, it was crass. For another... Lysithea is Lysithea and this unknown girl was Break's daughter. If they are similar, it means there are personality traits that Break finds himself drawn to. Their relationship would be forged from their own experiences, memories, and interactions.]

I do appreciate your faith in me.

[payingfordeliverance]

[Lysithea has not yet witnessed Break's full capacity for funny business. She will one day come to appreciate the various things that keep him in check. For instance, the thing where sometimes all the effort he possesses for a day go to getting him out of bed in the first place.

For the moment, though, he's smiling fondly, the rest of his face hidden by his messy hair as he bows his head.]

Miss Lysithea doesn't abide nonsense much. In my experience, that means...there's really no reason to doubt.

[notimeforfailure]

I should hope not.

[She raises an eyebrow as he bows - this is not the first time he has exhibited such servile mannerisms, and it leads her to conclude he is either an obliging gentleman or a former butler.]

Though it is nice, sometimes, to be reminded of that fact by people who... aren't me.

[Even Lysithea's self-esteem needs bolstering at times.]

Well.

...Since the plaster wall is a lost cause, anyway, shall we go and get rid of the whole thing?

[payingfordeliverance]

That would decrease the chances of further unpleasant surprises which may warrant fireballs later on, wouldn't it?

[Break has faith in Lysithea's abilities but also does not really want to find himself right next to some of those abilities again if he can help it.]

[notimeforfailure]

Fireballs are an acceptable solution to multiple problems.

[including mouthy business partners]

You just need to think creatively.

[Lysithea grumbles as she stalks over to the door and pushes it open with determination. Said determination causes it to go flying off its hinges.]

Ugh!

((This might be a good place to wrap this one up!))

[payingfordeliverance]

[And so it is that we see properly, once and for all, why exactly Break is here today.

It's to make sure the things Lysithea knocks over fall away from her, not toward.]