[Ungenerously, Palamedes thinks Paul's crooked house is a pitiful sight upon first approach. He and Camilla have been hunkered down in a windowless box for nostalgia and habit's sake, and at least Paul's choice of residence isn't a deeply haunted mansion covered in gargoyles, but — well. It's an idle thought first formed out front, and then again on the stairs. At least Canaan House had once been opulent.
He's come prepared, supplies in the satchel he's been wearing over his Sixth robe and under the complementary Sleeper cloak. It took almost no time at all to gather the things he assumes he'll need to do this thing, especially after a quick survey of his right ankle, where a fat crystal has blossomed to life in the time it took to wander Canaan House; Paul's everything is further along, but recalling the observation in the memory...
It will be a process. If Palamedes had his way the removal of crystals would be step one, after he trails the mouse up into Paul's... sitting room; but Paul has set out tea and mugs, so. Palamedes stands in the doorway, one hand idly settling on the cracked door out of habit, what-happened-here, while he looks at the state Paul is in.
Well, it could be worse. Continuing their conversation about their respective homes as if they'd not been interrupted by such a literal scene change bothers him not at all; he lets out a short puff of breath, not quite a laugh.]
Me? God, no. I made Warden at thirteen; my work before and after consumed nearly every waking minute, and a handful of sleeping ones, too.
[Haha. He crosses to sit, rearranging the lump-that-is-satchel under the Sleeper cloak as he does.]
That, and getting the appropriate clearances to open a hatch somewhere for anything other than a construct doing maintenance would take ages. I used to drive people mad, sending so many letters. I always told Cam that the inter-House post would be dead without my help.
[A shrug. Ah, youth! But yeah, that's a no;] We didn't even have windows.
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He's come prepared, supplies in the satchel he's been wearing over his Sixth robe and under the complementary Sleeper cloak. It took almost no time at all to gather the things he assumes he'll need to do this thing, especially after a quick survey of his right ankle, where a fat crystal has blossomed to life in the time it took to wander Canaan House; Paul's everything is further along, but recalling the observation in the memory...
It will be a process. If Palamedes had his way the removal of crystals would be step one, after he trails the mouse up into Paul's... sitting room; but Paul has set out tea and mugs, so. Palamedes stands in the doorway, one hand idly settling on the cracked door out of habit, what-happened-here, while he looks at the state Paul is in.
Well, it could be worse. Continuing their conversation about their respective homes as if they'd not been interrupted by such a literal scene change bothers him not at all; he lets out a short puff of breath, not quite a laugh.]
Me? God, no. I made Warden at thirteen; my work before and after consumed nearly every waking minute, and a handful of sleeping ones, too.
[Haha. He crosses to sit, rearranging the lump-that-is-satchel under the Sleeper cloak as he does.]
That, and getting the appropriate clearances to open a hatch somewhere for anything other than a construct doing maintenance would take ages. I used to drive people mad, sending so many letters. I always told Cam that the inter-House post would be dead without my help.
[A shrug. Ah, youth! But yeah, that's a no;] We didn't even have windows.