[Caught out, her cheeks flush pink, and she can't help but glance away in mild embarrassment.]
I was trying to light the fireplace.
[Not that looking for hidden doors is that bad of an idea — surely there must be some around in a castle of this size, there always are in castles — but as it happens, her purpose was considerably more mundane.]
Your torches in the jars, in the entrance — they lit when you touched the wall. I thought it might...I thought perhaps your walls just did that.
[Well. Now it sounds sort of stupid when she says it aloud.]
[That explanation gives him pause, but... truthfully, he finds it reasonable. She's observant, but perhaps not enough to know what electricity is. Not her fault.]
A fair assumption, I suppose. I've never really explained how the lights work. But I'm afraid for fireplaces, I don't have anything that complicated arranged.
[He has more of the porridge. It's actually quite nice. Light.]
Oh, I'm sure there's a wonderfully complicated explanation for it, that mostly boils down to "they're enchanted and you worked magic on them."
[Although...the way that he says it is odd. As though there is more to it than that. And she really can't help her curiosity, even though she knows full well there are plenty of other, better things she might be doing with her time.]
...Is there more to it than that?
[She says, as she digs in her pockets for a bit of flint and kneels down to start arranging the tinder and kindling.]
[She tests the word on her tongue like she's tasting it, almost, and not sure if it'll come away with a foul flavor or a sweet one. There's something about what he's describing that triggers a buried memory, however — something she recalls seeing from far away, through the curving barrier of a tall glass jar. She remembers standing on the ramparts of their shrunken castle and looking out over the vast expanse of Mordack's laboratory, and how far off in the distance, great globes affixed to some sort of awful contraption had sparked with lightning and illuminated the room with an eerie blue glow.
He must be talking about something like that, she decides at length, pondering even as her hands work efficiently to pile the wood and strike the tinder to coax a flame to take hold. Alexander called lightning when he slew the dragon; she remembers vividly how close the bolts got to her where she'd been tied up just scant feet from the awful beast. So Alucard must have called lightning somehow — not with magic, but with science — and captured it in his metal, and sealed the metal in the glass. Now, when he bids it, the lightning flashes, and holds its flash longer than any natural bolt ever should, and he lights a room with it.
It's so terribly complex that, as she sits back onto her heels and regards the little fire as it starts to burn, simple logic causes a thought to surface, and she glances back at him.]
To go to all that work just for light, your bulbs must be better somehow than a torch. Or you wouldn't have bothered.
[And now it's a riddle. How is a lightning bulb better than an easy, sensible flame?]
...They don't burn out. Is that it? You don't — they don't run out of oil, like a torch would. The bulbs don't go out?
[When was the last time that fireplace held any warmth? Who is to say. He's hardly touched anything of interest, stopped creating art ages ago. Stopped doing much of anything except surviving and keeping to himself. Alucard watches the flames flicker to life, but his attention is quickly turned to Rosella herself as she works out the most important thing: why. Why would the bulbs be more efficient than candles or a torch?
And her conclusion is sound. Alucard's eyes, tired as they are, almost glimmer in satisfaction.]
Precisely, or at least they certainly don't burn out as easily. From time to time, they need replacing, but you can easily choose when to light them or turn them off. It is a tedious thing to tend to hundreds of candles for a castle.
[Clever Rosella.]
What are some other things you would use a fire for besides light and basic warmth?
[And now the riddle has turned into a game, which only fuels her desire to understand further. Had he been merely teaching a lesson out of a book, she might've been passingly interested in his lightning jars, or she might not have. But she's competitive, and always has been, and now that her ability to puzzle it out has been turned into a test, she wants to suss it out and reach the epiphany all the more for it.]
Well, to heat specific things, certainly. You'd need a fire to cook with, or to make a bath a bit more pleasant.
[How many peasants of no particular account can boast a familiarity with a heated bath? The incongruity doesn't even occur to her, so preoccupied is she with pondering.]
Oh — or to keep animals away in the wild. A fire for protection.
[Another curious thing to note, her remark on making a heated bath. Not often a peasant could care about that in particular, but he keeps his amusement to himself. Rosella has many secrets yet to share, he figures.]
Perhaps I should show you the wonders of my oven, then. To cook with. Or perhaps a running water system with heated water?
I'm certain if one thought to, they could use fire to keep animals away. But it's never really been a concern of a vampire's.
[Her brow furrows as she falls deep in thought, trying to consider the implications of the concepts he's telling her and transfer them into situations she's already familiar with.
When it hits her, her whole expression brightens, like the sun emerging from behind fluffy summertime clouds.]
Of course, so that's what the metal is for! It must...make the metal hot, somehow, and that's how it acts like a fire, giving off heat. So if you had a metal bath, and you sent your electricity through it, it would get hot and heat the water, wouldn't it?
[no rosella it would doom you to another gruesome sierra death but you're doing great, honey, keep doing your best]
Ah, well. Not... quite, for reasons I can explain, but you're on the right track. More than most, in any case.
[It's very hard to not laugh at the prospect, but he gives her an amused glint in his eyes.]
Imagine that you had a well inside of the castle. Filled with water, with a system that allows it to reach every necessary room. Basins so you can have water when you wish, for your tubs for a bath. Now, with electricity, you warm up that well. There's a mechanism in it that triggers to warm it up.
[One can almost see the wheels turning, turning, turning in her pretty head, metaphorically speaking. But the moment when a revelation occurs to her can be literally seen, visible in the widening of her eyes and the way she sits up a little straighter.]
It's an aqueduct. You've hidden a Roman aqueduct in your walls, only it heats the water as it runs. Well — that's marvelous, of course you couldn't keep a fire burning inside a wall, but you're using your metal and electricity, so it isn't a problem...
[She blinks rapidly, startled.]
But — that's brilliant. It's ingenious. And that's how it is in this castle, you've done that? Will you show me?
[She smiles a little; her excitement gradually tapering back into a softer warmth. The while I toil away doing servant's chores at the end of that sentence is left off, but it's hard not to consider the implication of it.
Still, she dusts the soot on her palms off onto the skirt of her otherwise terrible dress, makes a face at it, and stands up from the fireplace.]
Speaking of the chores, I'd meant to ask you. If you've anything to be laundered, will you set it out somewhere? Then I don't need to worry about any locked doors, or going somewhere I oughtn't. I can come back for it when I've finished with the entrance.
[She purses her lips, then adds more tentatively: ]
That cloak of yours looks like it could do with a wash.
[He really does seem rather nice, Rosella can't help but muse to herself, feeling her heart go out to him a little at the sight of his unexpected bashfulness. More and more, his initial reaction to her entrance to the castle is seeming less one born of anger or rage, and more one with its roots in a terrible hurt. A kicked dog will bite, and a wounded animal will scratch. Wounded people sometimes do, too.
She wonders who could have possibly hurt a vampire so badly. Maybe magic isn't the only secret she'll be able to uncover, as she spends these next few days in the castle.]
...I'll change if you will.
[She offers brightly, to make light of the subject that otherwise clearly embarrasses him.]
[For a moment, Alucard glances down at himself. How long has he been living in this cape like it was a part of him, slinking in the shadows and ignoring the light? Day to night and day again, he'd sit and brood and wander the halls like a ghost. It's not even been a day, and this is the most active he's been.
Though he finds he cannot completely trust her yet, he does not find her suggestion unreasonable either.]
As you say, it needs to be laundered. I will change, and bring you something in return.
[He looks at himself like he's finally seeing himself for the first time, after a long period in a haze of oblivion. Sadness will do that to a person, she thinks with a touch of bittersweet nostalgia; there were days, after the dragon came, when her father wore the weight of the world so heavy on his shoulders that he all but forgot about the clothes on them.
So she offers him a gentle, friendly smile, hoping to be encouraging of what seems to be a small first step out of his own shell.]
I'd like that very much.
[She offers him a little curtsey, as pretty as her ragged dress isn't.]
I'll go back to the kitchen and put the rest of breakfast away. Come down whenever you're ready?
[Her curtsey is well practiced, pretty and elegant. Odd for a peasant girl, but she is unique in many ways thus far anyway.
Alucard allows himself to smile faintly, sweeping his cape as he gives her his own bow.]
As you say.
[Standing back up, and he steps away from her and the study altogether. It's... admittedly been awhile since he'd bothered to do much in the way of his dressing up. So long that he reckons much of his own clothing have seen better days without dust.
Still, there is enough for him; he almost feels like a man again, putting on a proper shirt and coat at last instead of the lurching, hissing form he'd been. He hasn't been successful yet in properly brushing out his hair, too long since he'd ignored it, but it's something to fuss with for another day. For Rosella, he does return with a dress for her. Though she wears something red and ragged, blue would match her eyes, wouldn't it?
So he goes to the kitchen, dress draped in his arms as if it were a princess itself.]
[By the time Alucard makes his reappearance, the breakfast dishes have been cleaned up and replaced, all save for the one little bowl currently in front of her as she sits near the foot end of the table — consciously far from the master's place — and tucks in to her own portion. He's emphasized more than once how he doesn't want her fainting and making a mess of things all about the castle, so she'd gone out of her way to try to arrange it so he'd at least see her eating and heeding his directions when he did eventually come in.
But her spoon stills in her hand, momentarily forgotten, when he does make his entrance. How different he looks when he dresses as a gentleman ought; though certainly not new, the colors of his coat are still crisp, the folds and lapels still smart. Strange too, how the shirt he's chosen does more to draw attention to the broad planes of his chest than it had when he hadn't been wearing one to begin with.
He's really quite handsome, she thinks fleetingly, and must be about her age — or at least, her age is about where his vampirism must've frozen him in time. Odd how she hadn't really noticed his youth before, when he'd seemed so dismal and wild.]
My word, you do look like the lord of the castle. That suits you very well!
[Perhaps a ribbon for his hair, she thinks idly. A black one, tied at the nape of his neck, after a proper brushing. A shame that she couldn't possibly offer that up as one of her servant's duties. Even if it weren't horrendously improper, she doubts he'd let her touch him at all, much less something so close and for so long.
So consumed is she with her musing on his appearance, it's almost an afterthought when she finally notices the dress he's brought for her. She's never much thought of black as a color that suits her very well, preferring white and blue as an alternative, but the notion of color doesn't even cross her mind; she's far too preoccupied with how hard it hits her, the simple foolish courtesy of being able to get out of her awful rags and dress properly again.
She doesn't cry, but it does bring a lump of emotion to her throat, and she sets the spoon back in her blackberry porridge before she can accidentally fumble and drop it. A dress, a beautiful proper dress, so that she can feel a little more like a princess again herself.]
[She's eating. That's the first thing he notes, and he's glad for it. No matter how this may turn out, Alucard refuses to be a cruel man and keep her from food. He will probably have to show her how the oven and stove both work, but that's fine.
Secondly, her reaction to the dress is understandable. A peasant girl granted a gift of a fine dress; something like that has probably never happened to Rosella before, so he doesn't even question it. The gratitude is clear enough in the shine of her eyes, and he offers the dress to her.]
It is yours. I, personally, would not be able to make much use of it, after all.
[It's such a startling bit of humor from Alucard that she laughs almost before she realizes she's done it, completely forgetting to politely cover her mirth behind a graceful hand the way she'd always been taught to. It's a relief, though, because the teasing irony is enough to jar her out of her bittersweet preoccupation, and she sets down her spoon and comes around to take the dress in a hurry, holding it to her chest and feeling the richness of the fabric beneath her fingers as she admires it.
This is how the old fisherman felt, she realizes unexpectedly, when she'd brought him the dwarves' diamonds. Something so precious, that despite its inherent finery has no value at all to one person, yet means the world to another.
She wonders if there's something like that for Alucard, too. Something she has to give so freely that she hardly need spare a thought about it, but that would overwhelm him with its kindness as much as this.
Oh, how she wonders.]
It's beautiful...and my favorite color is blue, so I'm doubly charmed.
[She runs her fingers over the skirt, fingering the workmanship.]
But I admit, I'm glad that I'm the one making use of it, of the two of us. You look so very fine in your shirt and coat, I'd be sorry to see you in anything different — even if it were a dress as lovely as this.
I would not have known. I simply thought it might-- suit you.
[He almost says match your eyes or bring out your hair, but he doesn't want to sound too personable so he keeps it to himself. For a moment, he looks a bit embarrassed before he clears his throat.]
I thank you for your kind words. If you would like, so you feel renewed, I can show you how to work the bath. It's quite simple, I assure you.
[For a second, her impulse is to demur, just out of sheer reflex. A gentle refusal because it's the sort of thing that's expected, or because the carefully-drawn lines of their arrangement are starting to blur, or because the longer she spends around Alucard the more she finds herself growing caught up in his push and pull of generous humor and reluctant melancholy. Being around him feels...out of control, somehow, not in a sense of having it stripped away from her but in a way that feels like riding a horse across a countryside with no direction and no aim.
Distance from him would clear her head of it, and so she almost says no, only so that he'll let her play at doing chores and steal some time to sort through the confusion that proximity to him seems to bring.
Only then it occurs to her that his offer might not necessarily be purely for the sake of being a generous host. Maybe...maybe he's finding excuses to prolong the exchange, so that she won't go off on her own just yet.
Maybe he wants to see her in the dress.
It's hardly the time for such nonsense, what with her present state of being kidnapped and stranded and left with no way home, and to say nothing of likely being hunted down by a cruel and powerful wizard besides. But none of that stops the thought from crossing her mind, anyway.]
Well...if it's simple, and you think I can learn it — then yes. Please, I'd like to know.
[It's a foolish notion. He should be letting her work as she'd agreed, but does want to be sure that it fits and to her expectations. And Rosella certainly is pretty, she would look so--
This is stupid. He knows better. He knows better. He is at best a tool for someone else. A victim otherwise.]
If you manage to find a way to break it or not make it work, I would be incredibly impressed.
[With a motion for her to follow him, he does go up the stairs. More curiously, he goes to a room that is across the hall from where Rosella stayed the night before, leading into an extravagant bathroom, large and would be quite a bit more inviting if it'd been properly dusted. There are indeed cobwebs in the corners, but it does not tarnish the polish hidden under, gold accents and marble and all.
He indicates the two knobs.]
The right is cold water, the left hot. You can turn both and adjust until you determine the temperature you prefer.
[...Well, bother it all, to think that the magical aqueduct bath was just across the hall from her given room this whole time. If only she'd been a little more adventurous in looking around this morning, perhaps she would've found it herself, rather than cleaning up with a cold swim in the brook — but no, he'd made it quite clear that she wasn't to go poking around behind doors where she didn't belong, hadn't he? So better safe than sorry, all around.
She follows him in, trying not to stare wide-eyed at the lovely grandeur — such luxury, all the marble and gold hidden away in what's otherwise such a dreary old castle to all appearances — and when he brings her over to the bath, her eyes light up at once.]
So this is it. And the rest of it is hidden behind the walls? It's terribly clever, and rather tidy, too.
[Experimentally, she touches the left knob with the tips of her fingers, like she's expecting to find it hot to the touch. A look of mild surprise crosses her face when she finds it room temperature, and that's when she gets brave and deftly turns the hot water on to run.
Perhaps not surprisingly, she's not expecting the sound of water beginning to rush through the metal pipes, and jumps a little at the noise, even as a spout of water begins to pour into the tub.]
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no subject
I was trying to light the fireplace.
[Not that looking for hidden doors is that bad of an idea — surely there must be some around in a castle of this size, there always are in castles — but as it happens, her purpose was considerably more mundane.]
Your torches in the jars, in the entrance — they lit when you touched the wall. I thought it might...I thought perhaps your walls just did that.
[Well. Now it sounds sort of stupid when she says it aloud.]
no subject
A fair assumption, I suppose. I've never really explained how the lights work. But I'm afraid for fireplaces, I don't have anything that complicated arranged.
[He has more of the porridge. It's actually quite nice. Light.]
no subject
[Although...the way that he says it is odd. As though there is more to it than that. And she really can't help her curiosity, even though she knows full well there are plenty of other, better things she might be doing with her time.]
...Is there more to it than that?
[She says, as she digs in her pockets for a bit of flint and kneels down to start arranging the tinder and kindling.]
no subject
[He tops off his bowl, mindful to himself of knowing he'll take it to the kitchen to deal with.]
That's not to say that they couldn't be magic, if I wished it.
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[She tests the word on her tongue like she's tasting it, almost, and not sure if it'll come away with a foul flavor or a sweet one. There's something about what he's describing that triggers a buried memory, however — something she recalls seeing from far away, through the curving barrier of a tall glass jar. She remembers standing on the ramparts of their shrunken castle and looking out over the vast expanse of Mordack's laboratory, and how far off in the distance, great globes affixed to some sort of awful contraption had sparked with lightning and illuminated the room with an eerie blue glow.
He must be talking about something like that, she decides at length, pondering even as her hands work efficiently to pile the wood and strike the tinder to coax a flame to take hold. Alexander called lightning when he slew the dragon; she remembers vividly how close the bolts got to her where she'd been tied up just scant feet from the awful beast. So Alucard must have called lightning somehow — not with magic, but with science — and captured it in his metal, and sealed the metal in the glass. Now, when he bids it, the lightning flashes, and holds its flash longer than any natural bolt ever should, and he lights a room with it.
It's so terribly complex that, as she sits back onto her heels and regards the little fire as it starts to burn, simple logic causes a thought to surface, and she glances back at him.]
To go to all that work just for light, your bulbs must be better somehow than a torch. Or you wouldn't have bothered.
[And now it's a riddle. How is a lightning bulb better than an easy, sensible flame?]
...They don't burn out. Is that it? You don't — they don't run out of oil, like a torch would. The bulbs don't go out?
no subject
And her conclusion is sound. Alucard's eyes, tired as they are, almost glimmer in satisfaction.]
Precisely, or at least they certainly don't burn out as easily. From time to time, they need replacing, but you can easily choose when to light them or turn them off. It is a tedious thing to tend to hundreds of candles for a castle.
[Clever Rosella.]
What are some other things you would use a fire for besides light and basic warmth?
no subject
Well, to heat specific things, certainly. You'd need a fire to cook with, or to make a bath a bit more pleasant.
[How many peasants of no particular account can boast a familiarity with a heated bath? The incongruity doesn't even occur to her, so preoccupied is she with pondering.]
Oh — or to keep animals away in the wild. A fire for protection.
no subject
Perhaps I should show you the wonders of my oven, then. To cook with. Or perhaps a running water system with heated water?
I'm certain if one thought to, they could use fire to keep animals away. But it's never really been a concern of a vampire's.
no subject
[Her brow furrows as she falls deep in thought, trying to consider the implications of the concepts he's telling her and transfer them into situations she's already familiar with.
When it hits her, her whole expression brightens, like the sun emerging from behind fluffy summertime clouds.]
Of course, so that's what the metal is for! It must...make the metal hot, somehow, and that's how it acts like a fire, giving off heat. So if you had a metal bath, and you sent your electricity through it, it would get hot and heat the water, wouldn't it?
[no rosella it would doom you to another gruesome sierra death but you're doing great, honey, keep doing your best]
no subject
[It's very hard to not laugh at the prospect, but he gives her an amused glint in his eyes.]
Imagine that you had a well inside of the castle. Filled with water, with a system that allows it to reach every necessary room. Basins so you can have water when you wish, for your tubs for a bath. Now, with electricity, you warm up that well. There's a mechanism in it that triggers to warm it up.
no subject
It's an aqueduct. You've hidden a Roman aqueduct in your walls, only it heats the water as it runs. Well — that's marvelous, of course you couldn't keep a fire burning inside a wall, but you're using your metal and electricity, so it isn't a problem...
[She blinks rapidly, startled.]
But — that's brilliant. It's ingenious. And that's how it is in this castle, you've done that? Will you show me?
no subject
I would not claim the idea as my own. That belongs to another.
But yes. I would show you, if you so desired. After your chores, perhaps?
no subject
[She smiles a little; her excitement gradually tapering back into a softer warmth. The while I toil away doing servant's chores at the end of that sentence is left off, but it's hard not to consider the implication of it.
Still, she dusts the soot on her palms off onto the skirt of her otherwise terrible dress, makes a face at it, and stands up from the fireplace.]
Speaking of the chores, I'd meant to ask you. If you've anything to be laundered, will you set it out somewhere? Then I don't need to worry about any locked doors, or going somewhere I oughtn't. I can come back for it when I've finished with the entrance.
[She purses her lips, then adds more tentatively: ]
That cloak of yours looks like it could do with a wash.
no subject
[Showing her the way the water works shouldn't be dangerous, he thinks idly. And it's hard to not be charmed by the genuine excitement in her eyes.]
Ah. ...I suppose that I can do.
[He pauses, then offers:] There are dresses in the castle. If you prefer something else.
[The way his cloak is pointed out makes him clear his throat. She's not wrong, and he can't hide his embarrassment.]
no subject
She wonders who could have possibly hurt a vampire so badly. Maybe magic isn't the only secret she'll be able to uncover, as she spends these next few days in the castle.]
...I'll change if you will.
[She offers brightly, to make light of the subject that otherwise clearly embarrasses him.]
If you like, that is.
no subject
Though he finds he cannot completely trust her yet, he does not find her suggestion unreasonable either.]
As you say, it needs to be laundered. I will change, and bring you something in return.
Is that acceptable?
no subject
So she offers him a gentle, friendly smile, hoping to be encouraging of what seems to be a small first step out of his own shell.]
I'd like that very much.
[She offers him a little curtsey, as pretty as her ragged dress isn't.]
I'll go back to the kitchen and put the rest of breakfast away. Come down whenever you're ready?
no subject
Alucard allows himself to smile faintly, sweeping his cape as he gives her his own bow.]
As you say.
[Standing back up, and he steps away from her and the study altogether. It's... admittedly been awhile since he'd bothered to do much in the way of his dressing up. So long that he reckons much of his own clothing have seen better days without dust.
Still, there is enough for him; he almost feels like a man again, putting on a proper shirt and coat at last instead of the lurching, hissing form he'd been. He hasn't been successful yet in properly brushing out his hair, too long since he'd ignored it, but it's something to fuss with for another day. For Rosella, he does return with a dress for her. Though she wears something red and ragged, blue would match her eyes, wouldn't it?
So he goes to the kitchen, dress draped in his arms as if it were a princess itself.]
If this is not too much for you.
no subject
But her spoon stills in her hand, momentarily forgotten, when he does make his entrance. How different he looks when he dresses as a gentleman ought; though certainly not new, the colors of his coat are still crisp, the folds and lapels still smart. Strange too, how the shirt he's chosen does more to draw attention to the broad planes of his chest than it had when he hadn't been wearing one to begin with.
He's really quite handsome, she thinks fleetingly, and must be about her age — or at least, her age is about where his vampirism must've frozen him in time. Odd how she hadn't really noticed his youth before, when he'd seemed so dismal and wild.]
My word, you do look like the lord of the castle. That suits you very well!
[Perhaps a ribbon for his hair, she thinks idly. A black one, tied at the nape of his neck, after a proper brushing. A shame that she couldn't possibly offer that up as one of her servant's duties. Even if it weren't horrendously improper, she doubts he'd let her touch him at all, much less something so close and for so long.
So consumed is she with her musing on his appearance, it's almost an afterthought when she finally notices the dress he's brought for her. She's never much thought of black as a color that suits her very well, preferring white and blue as an alternative, but the notion of color doesn't even cross her mind; she's far too preoccupied with how hard it hits her, the simple foolish courtesy of being able to get out of her awful rags and dress properly again.
She doesn't cry, but it does bring a lump of emotion to her throat, and she sets the spoon back in her blackberry porridge before she can accidentally fumble and drop it. A dress, a beautiful proper dress, so that she can feel a little more like a princess again herself.]
Oh...
[She swallows hard, her smile wobbling.]
Oh, it's lovely. Please, yes, let me have it.
no subject
Secondly, her reaction to the dress is understandable. A peasant girl granted a gift of a fine dress; something like that has probably never happened to Rosella before, so he doesn't even question it. The gratitude is clear enough in the shine of her eyes, and he offers the dress to her.]
It is yours. I, personally, would not be able to make much use of it, after all.
no subject
This is how the old fisherman felt, she realizes unexpectedly, when she'd brought him the dwarves' diamonds. Something so precious, that despite its inherent finery has no value at all to one person, yet means the world to another.
She wonders if there's something like that for Alucard, too. Something she has to give so freely that she hardly need spare a thought about it, but that would overwhelm him with its kindness as much as this.
Oh, how she wonders.]
It's beautiful...and my favorite color is blue, so I'm doubly charmed.
[She runs her fingers over the skirt, fingering the workmanship.]
But I admit, I'm glad that I'm the one making use of it, of the two of us. You look so very fine in your shirt and coat, I'd be sorry to see you in anything different — even if it were a dress as lovely as this.
no subject
[He almost says match your eyes or bring out your hair, but he doesn't want to sound too personable so he keeps it to himself. For a moment, he looks a bit embarrassed before he clears his throat.]
I thank you for your kind words. If you would like, so you feel renewed, I can show you how to work the bath. It's quite simple, I assure you.
no subject
Distance from him would clear her head of it, and so she almost says no, only so that he'll let her play at doing chores and steal some time to sort through the confusion that proximity to him seems to bring.
Only then it occurs to her that his offer might not necessarily be purely for the sake of being a generous host. Maybe...maybe he's finding excuses to prolong the exchange, so that she won't go off on her own just yet.
Maybe he wants to see her in the dress.
It's hardly the time for such nonsense, what with her present state of being kidnapped and stranded and left with no way home, and to say nothing of likely being hunted down by a cruel and powerful wizard besides. But none of that stops the thought from crossing her mind, anyway.]
Well...if it's simple, and you think I can learn it — then yes. Please, I'd like to know.
no subject
This is stupid. He knows better. He knows better. He is at best a tool for someone else. A victim otherwise.]
If you manage to find a way to break it or not make it work, I would be incredibly impressed.
[With a motion for her to follow him, he does go up the stairs. More curiously, he goes to a room that is across the hall from where Rosella stayed the night before, leading into an extravagant bathroom, large and would be quite a bit more inviting if it'd been properly dusted. There are indeed cobwebs in the corners, but it does not tarnish the polish hidden under, gold accents and marble and all.
He indicates the two knobs.]
The right is cold water, the left hot. You can turn both and adjust until you determine the temperature you prefer.
Go on. Try it.
no subject
She follows him in, trying not to stare wide-eyed at the lovely grandeur — such luxury, all the marble and gold hidden away in what's otherwise such a dreary old castle to all appearances — and when he brings her over to the bath, her eyes light up at once.]
So this is it. And the rest of it is hidden behind the walls? It's terribly clever, and rather tidy, too.
[Experimentally, she touches the left knob with the tips of her fingers, like she's expecting to find it hot to the touch. A look of mild surprise crosses her face when she finds it room temperature, and that's when she gets brave and deftly turns the hot water on to run.
Perhaps not surprisingly, she's not expecting the sound of water beginning to rush through the metal pipes, and jumps a little at the noise, even as a spout of water begins to pour into the tub.]
Oh, it's loud!
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