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strangetrip2017-01-13 03:16 pm
st_eadiesthefour) wrote in strangetrip2017-01-13 03:16 pm
Entry tags:
[EP] musketeers don't hide
The longer Constance was here, the less she could let herself believe it was all some fever dream. She was here, stuck in an inn in the Americas almost four hundred years in the future. As much as she wanted to be home, she didn't have the means to get there, and she wasn't going to sit around doing nothing. She hadn't done that while her husband was at the front; she wouldn't do it now.
She needed to learn about all the new technology – a new word, one she'd learned from River Song – and learn English, and she wasn't going to do either hiding away in her room or in the kitchens, although after a week watching the inn's unnerving cook and preparing things that didn't include chicken, for whoever was hungry, she thought she was starting to get a feel for the stove and ovens, and the rooms cooler than most cellars without being underground.
Today she'd made several meat pies and some with fruit, similar to the apple pie many had had the day they arrived, and taken them to the cafe. After setting them out for people to serve themselves, much as she would've at the garrison, if the cadets... or Porthos gave her the time to, she sat at a table nearby with needle and thread. A seam in her overbodice needed repair, and it with only the one outfit it was the only mending she was comfortable doing in public, regardless how little most of the women here wore.
She looked up as she heard someone come in, threading the needle by feel alone, and offered them a friendly grin. "'ello." It wasn't much, and she'd have to switch to French for anything else, but a simple greeting she'd heard often enough to offer in English. "Il y a de la nourriture, si vous la voulez," she added, gesturing toward the pies with a tip of her head.
She needed to learn about all the new technology – a new word, one she'd learned from River Song – and learn English, and she wasn't going to do either hiding away in her room or in the kitchens, although after a week watching the inn's unnerving cook and preparing things that didn't include chicken, for whoever was hungry, she thought she was starting to get a feel for the stove and ovens, and the rooms cooler than most cellars without being underground.
Today she'd made several meat pies and some with fruit, similar to the apple pie many had had the day they arrived, and taken them to the cafe. After setting them out for people to serve themselves, much as she would've at the garrison, if the cadets... or Porthos gave her the time to, she sat at a table nearby with needle and thread. A seam in her overbodice needed repair, and it with only the one outfit it was the only mending she was comfortable doing in public, regardless how little most of the women here wore.
She looked up as she heard someone come in, threading the needle by feel alone, and offered them a friendly grin. "'ello." It wasn't much, and she'd have to switch to French for anything else, but a simple greeting she'd heard often enough to offer in English. "Il y a de la nourriture, si vous la voulez," she added, gesturing toward the pies with a tip of her head.
no subject
"It's amazing what one new outfit will make you feel fresh." She knew that Constance wouldn't understand her but Buffy assumed that her look of contentment would express everything.