[Look, this is a man who enjoys reading The History of Fódlan and an essay by Wilhelm the First. His idea of entertainment is best taken with salt.]
Neither is... particularly relevant to my interests, I admit, but I cannot deny their practicality—especially given the unpredictability of our situation. I may very well end up in a situation where I must cook regularly again. Additional skill would be a boon.
[But mostly as long as it helps keep Bernadetta out of trouble today. Hubert takes a step and pauses waiting for his Bonded to fall in line before starting towards the kitchen.]
Maybe... Maybe I could teach you to make something Lady Edelgard likes?
[Because they're close. And she thinks they're probably even closer now. She's pretty sure anyway. So maybe if she suggests something that she knows that Edelgard would like then he could make that for her sometime! He's not the most emotive person but maybe he'd like to do something nice for someone so important.]
[Hubert doesn't answer immediately; his gaze refocuses ahead on the stairs as they approach, in his version of averting his eyes. The mage might be one of the least expressive, forthright people in Adrestia, but there's no hiding the way his end of the Bond fills with a warm regard at Edelgard's mention.]
[In the beats of silence after that, he's pensive, and a little conflicted. Almost unsure.]
...Sautéed pheasant and eggs, [Hubert eventually answers. It's one of the few things his and Edelgard's wildly opposed tastes agreed on.]
We don't have pheasant. But I could show you how to do the same thing with chicken.
[Then he can just get pheasant sometime and then do it with that. Really it's kind of the perfect strategy. She hopes. Still, at least she can help him do something special for someone he clearly has a lot of feelings for.
Bernie's happy for them.
Okay, maybe she's wondering also if it's appropriate for her to be bonded to him too but she'll just try not to think about that. Instead, she smiles and turns to lead the way to the kitchen.]
Is that so? [Hubert's already making a mental note of substitutions, if it comes to that.] You have my gratitude, Bernadetta.
[Hubert really was, his sincerity clear in the Bond. He felt her brief curiosity, but didn't know what to make of it, and let it be.]
[And turns out, there's already someone waiting in the kitchen. Sort of—one of the lower cupboards was cracked open, a few pieces of grain spilled out on the floor, and a creature lazing on the floor before it. There was a sizable lump in the snake, indicating a recent meal.]
[The reptile lifts its head, idly flicking its tongue in Bernie's direction. Not-food, accompanied by food-provider.]
I should hope so. That is one of its purposes, after all.
[Hubert is smiling subtly, a satisfied note in the Bond. Good creature—devour all the vermin. The cobra, however, remained disinterested in the two of them. It only wanted to go digest somewhere warm; the snake begins a lazy slither towards the sitting room's hearth.]
[She watches the snake slither away but doesn't bother the thing. It's probably very sleepy after such a good meal. She knows the feeling! Anyway, she rights herself so she can start gathering ingredients for them to work with.]
Ah, have I been remiss in introducing you? That is my familiar. They function as a sort of... magical storage for a Witch. Such isn't necessary since I have Bonded, but I like the idea of having a reserve, of sorts.
[And the cobra makes for an easy source of venom, in addition to being a rat-killer. What a deal.]
I have something resembling a simplified Bond with the creature. I'm aware roughly of which direction its in, and its moods. It is similarly aware of mine, for all it seems to not care.
[It only pays attention when Hubert was directing warning anger at it, or when he was alarmed.]
Call it what you wish. It makes no difference to me. [He sighs, quietly, and walks over to the magitech icebox.] I... suppose you could pet it, at your own risk. I keep the antivenin in here; something I should tell you regardless, in case it bites you or another.
Because it's a snake! A really deadly and dangerous snake! If it's named something really cute and unexpected people will think it's safe. Then oh no! A shock of a lifetime...
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bloodypath) wrote2019-10-03 11:06 am
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Neither is... particularly relevant to my interests, I admit, but I cannot deny their practicality—especially given the unpredictability of our situation. I may very well end up in a situation where I must cook regularly again. Additional skill would be a boon.
[But mostly as long as it helps keep Bernadetta out of trouble today. Hubert takes a step and pauses waiting for his Bonded to fall in line before starting towards the kitchen.]
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[Because they're close. And she thinks they're probably even closer now. She's pretty sure anyway. So maybe if she suggests something that she knows that Edelgard would like then he could make that for her sometime! He's not the most emotive person but maybe he'd like to do something nice for someone so important.]
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[In the beats of silence after that, he's pensive, and a little conflicted. Almost unsure.]
...Sautéed pheasant and eggs, [Hubert eventually answers. It's one of the few things his and Edelgard's wildly opposed tastes agreed on.]
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[Then he can just get pheasant sometime and then do it with that. Really it's kind of the perfect strategy. She hopes. Still, at least she can help him do something special for someone he clearly has a lot of feelings for.
Bernie's happy for them.
Okay, maybe she's wondering also if it's appropriate for her to be bonded to him too but she'll just try not to think about that. Instead, she smiles and turns to lead the way to the kitchen.]
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[Hubert really was, his sincerity clear in the Bond. He felt her brief curiosity, but didn't know what to make of it, and let it be.]
[And turns out, there's already someone waiting in the kitchen. Sort of—one of the lower cupboards was cracked open, a few pieces of grain spilled out on the floor, and a creature lazing on the floor before it. There was a sizable lump in the snake, indicating a recent meal.]
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Coming closer to it, she gives it a little smile.]
Oh. You're helping to keep the kitchen clean!
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I should hope so. That is one of its purposes, after all.
[Hubert is smiling subtly, a satisfied note in the Bond. Good creature—devour all the vermin. The cobra, however, remained disinterested in the two of them. It only wanted to go digest somewhere warm; the snake begins a lazy slither towards the sitting room's hearth.]
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[She watches the snake slither away but doesn't bother the thing. It's probably very sleepy after such a good meal. She knows the feeling! Anyway, she rights herself so she can start gathering ingredients for them to work with.]
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Ah, have I been remiss in introducing you? That is my familiar. They function as a sort of... magical storage for a Witch. Such isn't necessary since I have Bonded, but I like the idea of having a reserve, of sorts.
[And the cobra makes for an easy source of venom, in addition to being a rat-killer. What a deal.]
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[She looks over at the snake again and then slowly up at Hubert.]
May I...pet it? Sometime. Not now! It's trying to sleep after a yummy meal!
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I'm... Afraid I've not named it. I haven't needed to. Reptiles do not respond to them. I admit I don't know it's gender, either.
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[She doesn't quite know if familiars work that way.]
I could give it a name. It's sad that it doesn't have one.
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[It only pays attention when Hubert was directing warning anger at it, or when he was alarmed.]
Call it what you wish. It makes no difference to me. [He sighs, quietly, and walks over to the magitech icebox.] I... suppose you could pet it, at your own risk. I keep the antivenin in here; something I should tell you regardless, in case it bites you or another.
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[You're sure you wanted her to name your snake, Hubert? You're really sure about this?]
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[She whispers that last part dramatically.]
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It has no fur whatsoever. And given it is my familiar, don't you think such a ploy is too obvious?
[Hubert shakes his head.] If you're going to insist on naming it in this fashion—[i.e., cute]—at least choose something passably suitable.
[It's got to be a little bit believable to really fake people out. Get in on his level of mind games, Bernie.]
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[Flawless logic.]