A speck of privacy

A general forum for all in-character posts as they relate to Act VI: Absolution, the characters that inhabit the world at large, and the events that help shape both.
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Marlowe
Posts: 42
Character: Quincy Everhard

A speck of privacy

Post by Marlowe » September 18th, 2022, 11:16 am

When someone introduces themself with such a curious moniker, it's better to keep one's ears open: you never know where the next story might come from.

She couldn't have seen more than thirty summers, but already carried herself with such confidence and detachment! Either the name she gave Quincy meant a tiny speck of something or a wide ditch of water around something; whatever the case, from the get go his guts told him it'd be worth it.

"Also, before you even start, do not call me Miss Mote", she said, her arms folded. Quincy wouldn't have made such a slip, as just the night before that same voice blurted that exact threat to someone else by the Cathedral. Once she gave him her name, it clicked in his head and he knew henceforth how to approach her.

"No, I wouldn't dare", he raised his palms. "I stand warned".

"Hm", she chewed her lips thoughtfully.

"Though I would wager it -could- be because it'd be Missus Mote? It's a possibility".

"Missus? What's the difference?", she cocked her head.

"Oh, that would mean someone had the pleasure of putting a ring on your finger", he smiled, rubbing his mustache between two fingers. "You know, matrimony?".

"Oh, that", she laughed. "No, not at all". He laughed along, making use of the technique that served him so well throughout the years. "No, I jus' think 'Miss Mote' sounds stupid".

"Of course, I often hear that these epithets are not well received".

"Missus Mote does sound better come to think, but if I were married-", she paused, plucking at her coat, "it would not be Missus Mote, to be technical".

The conversation was mainly driving itself and at some point he offered Hunniton's underground place so they had a bit of comfort; she -did- volunteer to tell him a long version of who she was and what she did for a living, after all. Quincy just didn't expect to meet another Frontier Herald contributor by accident.

"Ah. You doin' a human interest story on me?", she asked, watching as he set a leather booklet upon the battered wooden table.

"Well, I never miss an opportunity. We don't know where the next piece for the Herald will come from".

"Writing an article, meself, actually", she said, reaching for the cider he bought for them.

"Is -that- so?", he folded his arms.

"It wouldn't be the first", she said, unruffled. "I wrote articles for the first two issues. Both front page".

There it was again, that confidence. Mote didn't pain herself one bit at boasting about her accomplishments or qualities she naturally prided herself on: her dealings with the former (now deceased) editor of the paper, the important role she landed with the De Ravins, her involvement in a massive conflict in a place called Teneborough. Though most of the facts Mote brought up were foreign to Quincy, he could read her composure and body language just fine.

"While Knives was doin' church stuff, I... fell in with other kids, and we wound up as a bit of a gang. I learnt all types of crap, like picking locks and pockets", she said, as level as someone describing the recipe for mashed potatoes.

"Oh", he said, still trying to figure out what type of person her sister would be to earn the moniker "Knives".

"When we got old enough that we had to leave the orphanage, it was my coin that kept us well-fed and in shelter".

Mote surely had a lot to say, and it didn't bother him one bit. At one point, Quincy realized he hadn't written a line on his booklet for almost an hour, so enthralled he was listening to her tale.

"Is the search for atonement the reason you were at the Cathedral yesterday?", he asked, his arms folded.

"No", she said, blinking. "I always show up for sermons, these days. Plus, Rikard is the subject of me article".

"Oh, he did a service at my house recently!".

"The salt?".

"You are very perceptive", his lips couldn't avoid turning up into a smirk. "That was part of it, yes".

"Maemae said I was very perceptive". Maemae. Could she be talking about Miranda?

"For a good reason, I assume?".

"It's been something I've been considering mentioning to you".

"Really?", he set his mug down, perched at his chair.

"But s'not like I got her permission, so tha's what makes it questionable", she considered him for a moment. "I don't know".

"If you brought it up, I just hope you take the best decision you're comfortable with". Quincy played his best card; he didn't request that Mote revealed it, but the fact that this woman whom he never met before had private information on Miranda (and perhaps himself) unnerved him.

"Well, there's a couple reasons Maeby said it, but tha most direct one was when she was talking about herself, and you", another long pause. She was struggling to address this to him, unlike everything else Mote disclosed up to that point. "She didn't say it outright..."

"Yes...?"
.

"But I asked if she felt like she wasn't good enough for you, since she said she wasn't a lady", she nodded, finally articulating her point as she recalled the words she exchanged with Miranda. "And that's when she said it".

"I didn't know you were that close to Miranda", he said, puzzled at Mote being so aware of their issues.

"I... I'm not really. That was basically tha' first chat that wasn't just some pleasantries".

"The very first?", his tone went up a few notches and he raised his palm apologetically immediately afterwards. "Forgive me".

"Look, I have a talent, a talent for talking to people and getting stuff out of them without trying".

Quincy didn't know if he wanted to throw a bottle at her head or just rise from his chair and hug her. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

"So...what did she say?".

"When? After I told her that crap doesn't really matter?", he nodded. "She seemed to be convinced after a little bit of persuasion and then offered to make me the ball dress".

"I suppose I must say I appreciate this, Mote", he said, running his hand over his hair a couple times. "For some reason, she has a bit of...confidence issues, we can put it".

"Quincy, yer lucky I'm not in tha habit of breaking up relationships".

"Lucky?".

"She's a nice girl".

"Oh, I see. So you don't approve of our bond, then", he leaned back with a frown, folding his arms.

"No, no", she shook her head. "I mean, I wouldn't have told you this, if tha' was the case. I mean more in a... I would pursue her if I could, kinda way".

"Oh, really?", his lips curled up at that. "I oddly find that very flattering".

The woman across his table had the guts to tell him she fancied his girlfriend. Quincy didn't remember ever being exposed to such blatant honesty. He remained dumbfounded for longer than he would have liked, but he couldn't deny that it had been quite an enjoyable exchange.

They sent each other a few more pleasantries and then it was time to part ways. Yet another surprise in stock, sadly the last one for that encounter.

"After such a nice conversation", he said, already on his feet, "normally my etiquette would force me to request your hand for a proper farewell".

"Ah ah".

"Yet, I think you'd have my head for it, so I'll resort to a different approach", he smiled and bowed, a hand by his chest.

"Try it", she said, holding out her hand towards him.

"Really?", he eyed her warily.

"Yes".

He stepped closer, bringing her hand closer to him and planted a brief kiss on the back. "A pleasure".

"First time anyone's ever done that", she said, pulling her hand away and grinning as she examined it.

He lingered to settle the bill with Hunniton, her words still echoing in his mind. Did he make Miranda feel that out of place in his presence? He wondered if he should mention Mote's forwardness to her, and even the fact that he knew what she confided to her.

People seemed to be making quite a few questionable decisions these days: who'd relay that many secrets to a journalist who was also a minstrel?

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