cerealia | ic inbox

[pr159]

You've reached Rideaux. I'm afraid I'm occupied at the moment, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as needed.

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[kuritsun]

Good evening. This is Kurisu Makise; we spoke last month about dimensional fracturing. Sorry for the sudden message.

I wanted to ask you about magic. Do you have a moment? [ inner cringe... ]

backdated drinking shenanigans.

[souperb]

[ no matter how long she was here, how many times this thing happened— cerealia could always manage to find a way to dig under her skin. it wasn't as if she made it a habit to drown her disgust away after every instance where she wasn't herself (then she'd be two steps away from being an alcoholic) but this time had been disgusting, she felt unclean, and since drinking bleach wasn't an option to cleanse herself of flirting!! with rideaux!!! she figures alcohol is the next best solution.

so, she's at the least seedy and obnoxious bar she can find, trying to ignore everyone, everything. also, vodka.

and because she's milla, her luck is most likely terrible and her night is not sacred.

save her from herself. ]

text. - three days after the Interlude

[fishyoldman]

Hey pal. I might need to call on you earlier than I thought.

It's not an emergency, so just let me know when you're around, all right?

the date of his birth; gift. (aselia failed me.)

[metalist]

[ They don't speak about personal things much, although there are exceptions. Occasionally, he lobs brief, succinct questions about the circumstances of her death (and that, only after Mosley's broadcast) - or, even less welcome, makes deprecating comments whenever Jaune calls or texts her mid-shift. All of these, Pyrrha handles with extreme care, stuck on a perpetual knife's edge between meaningless indignation at his manner and respect for his intelligence and his work.

When she sees the note on the calendar. though, Pyrrha can't help herself. She spends a week putting small things together, doing her best to gauge his preferences while being aware not to embarrass him.

So, on the anniversary of his birth, he'll find a small card on his desk. With it, a bottle of red wine, neither extravagantly overpriced nor insultingly cheap, and a small tin of ginger snap cookies. The tin and the bottle are wrapped in velvet ribbons, not paper, but the ribbons purposely match the typical colour coordination of his more well-worn clothing.

The card is very austere, the front graphic generic and the manufactured message one of well wishes on a birthday. Below it, in neat handwriting, Pyrrha has left:

Many happy returns, Rideaux.
I hope you have a great year following.
Sincerely, Pyrrha.

And, rather unfortunately, below that, in thick sharpie:

Me too!!
JAUNE ARC
(we spoke on the phone)

(That last had not been her idea, but it had been too late to get him another card.) ]