Entry tags:
Sixth Cream Cake: [Written/Action]
[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, 65% unhackable because it's early and he's sick.]
Ivan,
Would you please look in on the horse for me? The Imperial Ass seems to be having trouble getting out of bed today, as the Imperial Sniffles have turned into the Imperial Plague. We apologize for Our impending death and your impending resulting frustrations.
Regretfully,
Gregor
P.S. If this letter caused you alarm, please give yourself a refresher course in detecting the Imperial Sarcasm.
[/Filtered]
[Gregor is sick as a dog. Apartments adjacent to his have probably heard violent, deep, chesty coughing for about two weeks now. Ordinarily, he'd have on-site approved physicians checking him out and prescribing whatever antibiotic was necessary, but here, he has to actually go seek out help. So. To the Battle Dome clinic he goes, looking specifically to see Adele LeBlanc when she's in. He will wait for her, if necessary.
Afterwards, he's going to the library, then the bakery for coffee and something sweet. Anyone stopping in can see him sitting inside, devouring a psychology textbook and sipping coffee, the cream cakes reduced to crumbs. They are the only thing he has eaten all day. He is not looking great, occasionally falling into bad coughing fits, for which he ducks outside, but recovering fairly quickly. When he heads home, he goes straight to bed despite his plans to work out. And the fact that it's the middle of the day.]
[Filtered to Phoenix Ikki 79%]
PI--
I suppose we're supposed to be pen pals, whatever that entails. I hope you're adjusting to the village well.
--GB
Ivan,
Would you please look in on the horse for me? The Imperial Ass seems to be having trouble getting out of bed today, as the Imperial Sniffles have turned into the Imperial Plague. We apologize for Our impending death and your impending resulting frustrations.
Regretfully,
Gregor
P.S. If this letter caused you alarm, please give yourself a refresher course in detecting the Imperial Sarcasm.
[/Filtered]
[Gregor is sick as a dog. Apartments adjacent to his have probably heard violent, deep, chesty coughing for about two weeks now. Ordinarily, he'd have on-site approved physicians checking him out and prescribing whatever antibiotic was necessary, but here, he has to actually go seek out help. So. To the Battle Dome clinic he goes, looking specifically to see Adele LeBlanc when she's in. He will wait for her, if necessary.
Afterwards, he's going to the library, then the bakery for coffee and something sweet. Anyone stopping in can see him sitting inside, devouring a psychology textbook and sipping coffee, the cream cakes reduced to crumbs. They are the only thing he has eaten all day. He is not looking great, occasionally falling into bad coughing fits, for which he ducks outside, but recovering fairly quickly. When he heads home, he goes straight to bed despite his plans to work out. And the fact that it's the middle of the day.]
[Filtered to Phoenix Ikki 79%]
PI--
I suppose we're supposed to be pen pals, whatever that entails. I hope you're adjusting to the village well.
--GB
[Action, Clinic]
"I don't think anyone would one to impose upon his rights, here. At least not intentionally, and not in a way that cannot be prevented. You're his emperor and while things are markedly different here and I'm but a surgeon, I know enough of those hat wouldn't want anyone's rights imposed upon here to perhaps lend a bit of weight to whatever it is you would need say, or have done, to protect his rights and your own. It's. Most likely not how things are done in your world. But it is what I can offer."
[Action, Clinic]
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He pauses, feeling rather like a madman for offering up his de facto heir as a hypothetical bodyguard when, if anything, the reverse should be true. It would be, back home.
"It's not perfect, and it may not even be sufficient, but it's what I can offer."
[Action, Clinic]
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