[ The tug of her ponytail is met with a 'tsk' that is more reactive than annoyed as she swats his hand away before taking up the rear behind them.
With this place being on top of a working warehouse, she half expects to hear the noise from below drift upwards. It isn't as if she expects pure silence when she's in her living quarters; in fact she had become accustomed to some level of it after the Academy and then living above the Sarstina's tavern for months now. But the chatter and laughter of students, and sometime raucous singing in the tavern is entirely different from that of machinery.
Surprisingly whatever noise there is is muffled and they're left with the sounds of only their shoes against the floor along with their voices filling the space. Faintly she wonders if there's enchantments lining the walls to dampen the noise, but that's for a mind much smarter than hers.
Acoustics and earlier reluctance aside, the wheels in Hilda's own mind begin to turn as she surveys the space available to them. Something akin to excitement bubbles in her chest. In her mind's eye she can see Sylvain working away happily in the kitchen, can practically smell the tea, cakes, whatever he felt like making filling the air. She could also see Claude tending to the herbs and plants that would undoubtedly fill the walls - some to eat, some with other questionable and side-eye inducing purposes, but all growing happily under his care regardless. They could probably put those plants elsewhere, preferably far from the kitchen.
The thought prompts the slightest curve of her lips can be seen before she turns to the view that the alcove provides. They could easily turn this into something livable, she thinks. Not only that, they could turn it into something warm, a safe space for any of their friends that might end up here in Abraxas. And by then, if that does come to pass, whatever awful feeling that has taken root in her heart will be a thing of the past.
It doesn't escape her that when she thinks 'theirs', she doesn't see herself as part of the equation, at least not in the long term. But she's already steeled her heart from the trip up earlier. Now isn't the time or place. The hopeful nervousness in Sylvain's voice and Claude's bright grin means she has a role to play here. When she turns around she gives Claude an aggravated look. ]
I'm not getting an anvil! [ Expect maybe she'd get little one. She pauses, dramatically looking between the pair of them before the corner of her lip twitches. ] How big of a space are we thinking for the library? Maybe we could put that over there by the seating room where we could host people? And I'm asking because if we get enough bookshelves, there better not be any more books in someone's bed. Or on the floor. Or on the kitchen tables, or -
[ Really, you can stop her any time because she's probably going to keep going, which is to say that she's clearly coming around to it. ]
no subject
With this place being on top of a working warehouse, she half expects to hear the noise from below drift upwards. It isn't as if she expects pure silence when she's in her living quarters; in fact she had become accustomed to some level of it after the Academy and then living above the Sarstina's tavern for months now. But the chatter and laughter of students, and sometime raucous singing in the tavern is entirely different from that of machinery.
Surprisingly whatever noise there is is muffled and they're left with the sounds of only their shoes against the floor along with their voices filling the space. Faintly she wonders if there's enchantments lining the walls to dampen the noise, but that's for a mind much smarter than hers.
Acoustics and earlier reluctance aside, the wheels in Hilda's own mind begin to turn as she surveys the space available to them. Something akin to excitement bubbles in her chest. In her mind's eye she can see Sylvain working away happily in the kitchen, can practically smell the tea, cakes, whatever he felt like making filling the air. She could also see Claude tending to the herbs and plants that would undoubtedly fill the walls - some to eat, some with other questionable and side-eye inducing purposes, but all growing happily under his care regardless. They could probably put those plants elsewhere, preferably far from the kitchen.
The thought prompts the slightest curve of her lips can be seen before she turns to the view that the alcove provides. They could easily turn this into something livable, she thinks. Not only that, they could turn it into something warm, a safe space for any of their friends that might end up here in Abraxas. And by then, if that does come to pass, whatever awful feeling that has taken root in her heart will be a thing of the past.
It doesn't escape her that when she thinks 'theirs', she doesn't see herself as part of the equation, at least not in the long term. But she's already steeled her heart from the trip up earlier. Now isn't the time or place. The hopeful nervousness in Sylvain's voice and Claude's bright grin means she has a role to play here. When she turns around she gives Claude an aggravated look. ]
I'm not getting an anvil! [ Expect maybe she'd get little one. She pauses, dramatically looking between the pair of them before the corner of her lip twitches. ] How big of a space are we thinking for the library? Maybe we could put that over there by the seating room where we could host people? And I'm asking because if we get enough bookshelves, there better not be any more books in someone's bed. Or on the floor. Or on the kitchen tables, or -
[ Really, you can stop her any time because she's probably going to keep going, which is to say that she's clearly coming around to it. ]