blossomburst | IC Inbox

Oh. Oh no. He's so painfully awkward. She should relent and let him relax. And as he just stands there, trying to pull himself together, she's trying not to smile too much. He sounds like he's straight out of a reenactment. It's kind of charming?

"Ah," good-naturedly, Intira shifts to settle herself in a chair, legs crossing, "you really don't have to worry about that. Haven't been a maiden in a long time, and not really into the whole... marriage idea." There's even a laugh and a wave of the hand. "Sorry, I've been told I come on too strong... well, most of the time, actually. You don't have to let me down gently, I'm used to it. I'm Intira, 's nice to meet you, roomie." Nothing can go wrong here. Nothing.

"Intira? I am Michel de Nostredame. Most simply call me Nostradamus. It's a pleasure to meet you." And he actually does something of a bow, because he's a gentleman like that. The manners come before he tries to parse the rest of the...all of that.

"You, ah...do not wish to marry? What does your family feel about this?" It's not specifically his business, even if he's sharing a room with her, but he may as well ask.

For a moment, she has to wonder if that's not historically relevant. But... you know, 3414 is A Long Time in the future, and honestly, does it matter? Not if she can help it.

"Nostradamus. Definitely not a name I'm used to hearing, but I think I'll remember." Ever saucy, she accents that with a wink , not even letting the barest twitch of discomfort show on her face. "My family? Well, I'm really not sure. Assuming they're still alive somewhere, they'd probably think it was fine, maybe even be glad that I grew up at all despite the streets."

That roughness shows in parts of her personality, and maybe it makes sense enough to hear it in retrospect.

Grew up despite the streets? Nostradamus's expression turns apologetic.

"My apologies, Mistress Intira, I wasn't aware. But, ah. Some find familly and fellowship among friends, right?" He glances toward her and then away again, not sure what to make of her clothing. But eventually, he makes his way over to his bed, removing his boots.

"It's not really a big deal, Nostradamus." Ah, it's really a mouthful, isn't it? She supposes she'll find a nickname for him later. "And please, just call me Intira. I'm not classy enough for 'Mistress' or 'Milady' or anything like that." Her smile is so easy, and she dusts her pants off when she stands again.

"I have plenty of friends where I work back home, sure. People I help take care of, that sort of thing. It's not a sad thing, exactly, growing up on the streets." Turning away from him to shore up the handful of items on the nearby table, she inclines her head. "A little rougher than having a steady roof over your head maybe, but most people never learn how to really live, saddled by obligation and propriety."

Really, it should sound a lot deeper and more serious than it does with her cheerful tone. She's happy for everything she has... save a small handful, and those don't matter here.

They don't.

She clears her throat, waving a hand. "Anyway! You don't have to treat me any kind of way - most of my coworkers and friends treat me like one of the boys, I don't mind at all."

"You're not a boy, though. You're a woman, and a very beautiful one." Who's now got her back to him, and those slim jeans really do display her assets very nicely, and he's just going to politely turn away. "I'm sorry. You...ah. I will show you the respect you deserve, Intira."

While working out how to even process any of this.

"Well, that's incredibly kind of you to say. I don't always identify that way, though I do love this body." There's a little laugh then, as he stumbles through trying to figure this all out. Poor guy. She's just going about now, fixing up things here and there. "I like the attention, just so you know. Being stared at is something I dress like this for, and because it just feels nice.

But if it helps, we can set some boundaries. Maybe answer some questions, get a feel for how well we're going to even work out as roommates, because my habits might just be too much for you."

Here. She'll even climb into the bed and slip the sheet over her hips, tugging one side up to wrap neatly around her shoulders. She can be kind if she wants to!

He glances over at her quietly. "I have...very many questions, I hardly know where to start. Do you have questions for me? That might be useful, perhaps."

While he's speaking, he removes his leather jerkin. No, he's not about to strip down completely, but this is his room, he ought to be allowed to be comfortable here. She is, clearly.

She is comfortable indeed, inclining her head.

"I'm sure I can think of plenty. Where did you arrive from, to start?" Something relaxing, easy, if she's lucky. "I'm from the American Federation, myself."

"The American Federation? America is what the colonies, across the ocean, are called." He frowns, trying to process, then answers the question. "I'm from France. I'm an advisor to Queen Catherine at the Château de Fontainebleau, as well as being the court physician."

If she had full access to get history books, she thinks she could probably pin down the when of that with his explanation.

"Mm, it's... A little complicated. From what I've heard, most of us are from different places or... Times. Where you're from, it's still the colonies. For me, things changed and we're a Federation." She's a bit helpless to explain in detail without overloading him with entirely too much information, but she does offer that much. "You can just think of it as me being from America, anyway. A court physician, though? That seems like the kind of job you'd be easier to get back to, from an outside perspective." Her chin rests on her hand and she watches Nostradamus now, taking a moment to read his reactions, how he's processing everything.

"I know that most here are from what is my future. That there have been innovations and discoveries since my time. It is rare for me to feel like I am, ahm, behind everyone else. In my studies, I was usually one of the best students. Now I know what it is to be the boy who didn't practice my grammar. There is so much that I have yet to learn."

He pauses, and glances over at Intira. "Where in the Americas? I have relatives who live in Trinidad, and...a very close friend, as well, who only recently left the French Court."

"Well, if you study well, I don't think you'll have too much trouble here. I'm pretty well versed in simulations like the one we're in, so with luck, I can help you figure out what you need." That question actually happens to be something she finds... a little delicate to navigate, though. He's clearly from an early-enough age, where the States was still a bunch of colonies...

"I'm not really different in that respect." In fact, she... may be from the furthest timeline yet, at least that's still an Earth timeline. Absently, fingers reach up to fiddle with a flower-shaped pendant around her neck. "The Federation's not really split up into different areas anymore - most of us live in a stretch of the Eastern coast, in what used to be Virginia in North America, if I remember my history correctly." She doesn't explain why the states don't exist, nor does she change her tone much at all. There's even still that mild expression. "Trinidad was quite a ways south of where I lived, and I don't think anyone's lived there for a while now." Or... most of the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, he's about 50 years before Virginia was established--Sir Walter Raleigh wouldn't reach the North American coast until 1584.

"Ah...unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to locate that on a map. Not that I necessarily need to know where you're from, to understand something about you or to respect you. Right?"

Ah well. It was a thought, anyway. Nostradamus has the right of it - imagine if they had to know what world someone came from if they were an alien, just to give them respect.

"You're right. Things change, too, over time." Inclining her head, she exhales a little laugh. "Respect's a bit more universal, or so I've always thought. Not everybody sees it that way, but I don't waste my time on the ones who don't want to give it."

"I think the question that needs to be answered is...how each of us sees giving respect. It's a culture thing, I think. You don't wish to be addressed with a formal title, I've gotten that already. Beyond that, what can I do to ensure you feel comfortable in this room with me?"

Doubtless, that's true. What respect Intira commands... well, socially speaking, she worked her ass off for. Even still, it's almost a laughable question.

"Nostradamus-- would it be Sir Nostradamus, actually? Well, either way, I'm already comfortable in this room with you. I can be very... frank about how simple it is for me, but to save you the long-winded, embarrassing explanation, there isn't much I can say that I don't think will sound redundant.

So long as you treat me like a human being, my comfort will remain." She can't help herself, of course, tilting her head absently toward him. "If you'd like to stare or even get handsy, you honestly have my permission. I'm a very simple person.

The same goes for you, though. I tend to keep my roommates generally aware of what I'm doing, and I don't bring strange people over without warning or anything, but if there's anything else you need me to do, I'll try to oblige." Try to, she says, because honestly... she's got some pretty ingrained habits.

"It is not Sir Nostradamus--I am not knighted. I am a commoner. So it'd be improper to call me 'Sir'. If you wish to be less formal, my Christian name is Michel."

He glances up. "When I avert my eyes, does it make you uncomfortable? I assure you, it is not an indication that you're not, ahm, very shapely. You're much more bold than any woman I've met, and it's unfamiliar. Even my wife was never so...daring, around me."

"Michel, then." It feels better on her tongue, easier to handle. Formality isn't her forte, but a name is also a name and she doesn't often know the difference.

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, no. Rather... I was trying to be reassuring that it doesn't bother me if you don't." Laughing, she tilts her head to watch him for a moment. "I'd say it's a shame, what with how attractive you are, that she wasn't so bold around you, but... we're from very different times, after all.

Does it make you uncomfortable, though? My general state of undress? Boldness is a compliment, to me, but we are roommates, after all.""

"I'm...yes, a little uneasy with it, but I'm assuming you don't own clothing I'd consider appropriate and...this is your room too. We'll, ah. We'll work it out. I'm not asking you to dress up more for me."

He looks thoughtful. "Are there any other standards we wish to set for this space? Rules regarding cleanliness, and so on?"

"I didn't arrive with them, no, but I'm not exactly planning to stick with just these clothes. My hair might not fit in with what you think of for appropriate clothing, though." Cheeky, cheeky. But she returns to seriousness, inclining her head.

"Not particularly. I try to keep my side of my rooms pretty neat, but it gets a bit messy when I do start making things. So, unless you have any, I think we're good to go."

IC Inbox - DataBURST

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject