Don't worry, I wouldn't expect any repayment in this case.
[ She could drop the names Alden, Shump, and Taulok, but she doesn't see much point in it anymore. They'll either arrive here one day, or they won't. In truth, it's probably better that they get home somehow. ]
[ She appends the address for a truly small hole in the wall joint with maybe standing room for 4 or 5 customers. It's a coffee shop during daylight hours and a bar at night. ]
[ Fern has had to put up with this sort of behavior from nobles, so she has some familiarity with it. Though it's also hard to tell if it's simply the awkwardness of text messages.
[ — It might actually be a smattering of text awkwardness, too, because Jasnah doesn't actually reply further. She allows the conversation to lapse, having exchanged all the relevant information.
HOWEVER, on the appointed morning, Fern would find Jasnah focused behind a narrow cafe counter in a spit of a cafe — long and narrow and barely able to service more than a couple sleepy morning commuters at once. The espresso machine is old and questionable, and she's barely learned how to use it. Really, there's a true sense that this venue operates first and foremost as a dive bar overnight and these morning coffee hours are just to pad the revenue. Something of an afterthought.
She's finishing up with one of those sleepy commuters when Fern arrives, and a brusque nod suggests she recognizes the somewhat-familiar face and will make time as soon as it's possible to do so.
Perhaps she'd like to take a lean in the meantime? There aren't really any stools to speak of. ]
[ Most businesses in this part of Panorama are like this, rough around the edges in a way that matches the rest of the Pavilion. Fern can't help but notice that it does look more like a bar than a coffee shop, but Jasnah had already explained how it switches back and forth depending on the time of day. Not a terrible business model, given that she works as a motel that also has a bar attached.
Well, that's one of her jobs, anyway. Today she's coming off a shift at the gambling den where she's been working for months now. Beyond some tightness at the corner of her eyes, though, she doesn't show many signs of her tiredness. She's been on her feet all night, but she returns Jasnah's nod and then walks up to the counter without any complaint.
She does lean an arm up on it, though, letting out a low breath as she looks for a menu. She'll be sleeping once she makes it back to her shared motel room, but that doesn't necessarily preclude some caffeine. ]
[ The menu is nothing fancy. Think perfunctory cafe wedged inside a tiny Eurpean rail station — not that either woman has much experience with Europe. Yes, there's a Real Espresso Machine. But what's available is a very short list of very straightforward coffee drinks, listed in (inexplicably unaccented) Portuguese: cafe, descafeinado, cafe duplo, abatanado, cafe comprido, meia de leite, and galao. Behind the counter is a well-thumbed copy of something titled Espresso for Dummies, flopped open to a middle page. Evidently, she's been annotating her chosen textbook.
Being so very new and so very dubious at all this shot-pulling, it takes Jasnah a moment to finish up with the current order and send the customer on their way. But eventually she makes her way down the counter to greet Fern. ]
— It's on me.
[ Whatever she orders. Consider it interest on top of the thin envelope of joolies she slides across the counter. ]
[ Fern spends most of the time that Jasnah is busy helping the other customer staring at the menu as if it's written in a language she doesn't know — which, frankly, is the truth. Even if she's learned about coffee shops since arriving here, including their status as a place where people go to meet up and socialize (not this one, so much), she still doesn't understand all the ins and outs of the drink itself.
Must it be so complicated?
She does make note of the book. Evidently, Jasnah's been in the same conundrum, which is worse in her case when she's the one actually serving up the hot (or cold) drinks. Hopefully she's a quick learner. ]
Ah. [ Fern glances over, taking the envelope with a brief nod before she's returned to her original problem. ] In that case, what would you recommend?
[ Unfortunately for everyone involved in this small scene, Jasnah had never tried coffee before arriving here. Truth be told, she'd never tried coffee before making it for herself — an awkward quirk of not trusting the food and drink prepared by others.
She knows what she prefers — and she will absolutely prepare it for Fern. But first: ]
Do you like sweet things?
[ Jasnah does not. But women's food, back home, was ordinarily served sweetened. It's worth asking. ]
[ She's gathered that these drinks can differ quite greatly when it comes to their sweetness level, and the ones that are too cloying she can never finish.
So it goes for someone who grew up living off the land, where sweet-tasting things were mainly in the form of fruit rather than the more artificial tastes that are common here. ]
[ That earns a small, approving incline of Jasnah's head. Good. Simpler, then. Sweetness complicates things unnecessarily. ]
In that case, we will avoid it entirely.
[ She turns back to the small counter she has claimed as her laboratory for the moment. The process is still new to her — unfamiliar tools, unfamiliar ingredients — but she approaches it the same way she approaches any piece of work: deliberately, with quiet precision.
Today's experiment? Something called a pour over. Ground beans into the filter. Water brought just shy of boiling. She watches the bloom of the grounds with a faintly academic interest before pouring slowly through.
No milk. No sugar. Nothing to disguise the thing itself.
The resulting drink is dark, clean, and sharp — far closer to what she suspects coffee is meant to be than the syrup-laden concoctions she has seen others try to order only to have Jasnah dismiss them with a shake of her head. ]
Here. [ She slides the mug toward Fern across the counter. ] Tell me if it is tolerable. I'm still — calibrating.
[ There is something about the way that Jasnah performs what most would call the simple task of preparing a drink. She's methodical about it, and Fern would be able to see that even if she hadn't already noticed the book that had been heavily marked up.
Whether or not this job is one some might call mundane, Jasnah is taking it seriously. She wants to do not just decently at it, but as best as she can, and that sort of dedication is something Fern can appreciate.
And not only because it means she now gets to receive a carefully-crafted drink. ]
Thank you.
[ She draws the mug toward her and lifts it with both hands, blowing away the steam a few times before she takes a careful sip.
The taste is strong and bitter, more like a slap in the face than most coffee drinks she's had here. Her eyes go briefly wide and she takes a few more sips before nodding to Jasnah, her own quiet approval. ]
It's good. The lack of all those additions means that the natural taste comes through better. I like it.
[ Is it disconcerting if she stands here and watches Fern take her first drink? Maybe. Probably. For all manner of reasons. But that's exactly what Jasnah does. There's other stuff she could be doing — mopping up a spill, resetting her station, whatever. But instead, she waits for the other woman's verdict.
And it's positive! Although Jasnah doesn't smile, there's a slight tug at the corner of her mouth. Storms, progress feels good. ]
I agree.
[ On the simplicity of the flavour. ]
This method, [ she touches the pour over contraption, ] takes longer. But I'm beginning to suspect the wait might be worthwhile.
[ While there might be some awkwardness in being intently watched as she samples the drink, Fern can understand the desire to know if one did a decent job or not, so she isn't overly bothered by it.
She leans forward slightly to look at the pour over contraption in question. ]
I suppose if the line was long, it might be a point of stress that each drink takes longer to make.
[ Though she finds it hard to believe that Jasnah is the sort of person who would be flustered by such a thing. ]
On the other hand, certain things are worth waiting for, as you say.
[ She takes another sip, letting out a breath as the warmth of the beverage spreads through her chest. ]
Consider your debt fully repaid. [ But then her gaze flicks back to Jasnah, curious. ] Although... I did have one question.
[ What an odd dance. A strange little back and forth — and perhaps they might have otherwise been empty phrases, but Jasnah does seem to pick her words with care. She means what she says; she avoids saying something just to say it. More importantly, she processes her strange new vocation aloud. A bit of a knock-down, really. From Queen of Alethkar and eminent scholar to...well, this.
But like she's already identified: progress feels good. Journey before destination. However, this thought process is interrupted by Fern's almost gentle warning. Jasnah takes it well. Positively, even. Curiosity is a virtue. ]
[ While Fern could deliver some preamble about how Jasnah doesn't need to answer the question unless she wants to, she doesn't see that as necessary. There's a no-nonsense, straightforward way about Jasnah that makes it clear that she couldn't be forced into anything she didn't want to do.
So, may as well come out with it. And when Jasnah gestures with her right hand, Fern looks to the left. ]
Why do you keep one hand covered in this way?
[ The design of her sleeve when they met had been noteworthy, and Fern couldn't help but notice that her hand is hidden now as well. It does feel like more than a fashion statement, at this point. ]
[ Oh. The question catches Jasnah by surprise — although she supposes it shouldn't. It's just that no one has yet dared to ask, so she's mostly come to the conclusion that either no one cares or everyone is simply too polite.
With an uncharacteristic awkwardness — or what might seem uncharacteristic, given how much Fern has seen already — Jasnah appears briefly shy about the hand in question. She knows she shouldn't. She knows it's arbitrary. ]
It's a cultural practice. [ The words are a touch too clipped, too academic. It's not Fern's fault for asking; Jasnah has a lot of complex emotions surrounding the safehand. ] It's considered improper for a woman to leave her safehand uncovered.
[ It's hard to miss the hesitation, the uncertainty. Fern had realized that she might be drawing attention to something Jasnah doesn't want to talk about, though she had also imagined that others would have asked by now.
A cultural practice. She should have considered it might be something like that, but... a safehand? What is that? She blinks a few times despite herself, unsure what it all means but also gathering that this isn't a subject Jasnah wants to delve in too deply with a relative stranger.
Always back to what it is or isn't proper for women to do. It surprises Fern a little that Jasnah would bother with such things, but one's culture can be so deeply ingrained. ]
... I see. I didn't mean to overstep, but I appreciate you answering me. [ She'll do the kindness of not pressing on with even more probing questions, opting to take a sip of her drink instead. ] In any case, I should leave you to your customers, but thank you again for the repayment.
[ — Oh. She's a little quick to clear up any possible misunderstanding on this particular point. So much so that she seems to ignore the not-so-subtle indication that the woman might want to leave. ]
I always forgive curiosity.
[ Even when it's personally convenient. ]
You caught me on the back foot, that's all. No one else has asked about it.
[ Fern's in the midst of turning to the side so she can not-so-gracefully excuse herself when Jasnah quickly speaks up to clarify.
I always forgive curiosity. An interesting statement, and one that must belong to someone who's curious herself. After a pause, Fern slowly shifts back toward Jasnah. ]
... I see. Many seem reluctant to ask me about my features as well, so I suppose it's just politeness.
[ Which is also her way of saying Jasnah can ask in return, if she wants any of her own curiosity indulged as well. ]
May I ask what a safehand is, then? I've never heard such a term.
[ ...Fern's features? Jasnah blinks, thinking it through for a moment. Sure — she doesn't appear strictly human. But back home, Jasnah has met peoples who grow carapace on their skin. She's met people with tinges of blue or green to their skin. She's met those with horns, with sharp crystalized fingernails, with all manner of differences. Is that not — hmm.
She resolves to ask, too, then. But first: ] The safehand is simply the left hand. The hand that's kept covered. As opposed to [ — she raises her right, bare one — ] a woman's freehand.
[ The reasons are arbitrary and largely historical. But it boils down to: ] A symbol, I suppose, of the division between feminine and masculine arts. The former are things that can be managed one-handed. The latter, with two.
[ A safehand and a freehand. Fern tilts her head, glancing from one hand to the other, but she still doesn't quite follow what that all means.
A further explanation comes, though, and Fern glances back up, a frown growing. ]
There's quite a large divide between men and women in your society, it seems.
[ While there is some of that in Faerûn, Fern had never subscribed to it, nor had she been raised that way. Shifter women were no different from shifter men, and were expected to carry out many of the same duties among the colony. Still, on the Sword Coast she had seen how women could be treated as lesser. ]
When you say arts, do you mean creative pursuits? Or something else?
[ Once she gets started, it's not so strange to describe the differences. After all, she's studied them close enough to oppose them back on Roshar. And yet she wears the glove all the same. A complicated, personal calculus. One she hopes to avoid explaining now. ]
Reading and writing falls to women. Both in creative and more academic fashions. [ ... ] Whittling and sewing becomes a masculine domain — creative pursuits in their own right. I take it there are no such divisions where you're from?
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[ What? Should she dare to hope? What a dreadful position to be in. Relegated to hope. ]
Well. I would find myself once again grateful.
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[ She could drop the names Alden, Shump, and Taulok, but she doesn't see much point in it anymore. They'll either arrive here one day, or they won't. In truth, it's probably better that they get home somehow. ]
Speaking of, did you wish to meet somewhere?
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[ She appends the address for a truly small hole in the wall joint with maybe standing room for 4 or 5 customers. It's a coffee shop during daylight hours and a bar at night. ]
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Yes, I'm familiar. When would be a good time? My work shifts tend to be in the evenings or overnight.
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[ ...oh, Jasnah, you can't just order these people around. This isn't Alethkar. ]
Will that work?
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She'll reserve any judgment for now. ]
Yes. I'll come by tomorrow morning, then.
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HOWEVER, on the appointed morning, Fern would find Jasnah focused behind a narrow cafe counter in a spit of a cafe — long and narrow and barely able to service more than a couple sleepy morning commuters at once. The espresso machine is old and questionable, and she's barely learned how to use it. Really, there's a true sense that this venue operates first and foremost as a dive bar overnight and these morning coffee hours are just to pad the revenue. Something of an afterthought.
She's finishing up with one of those sleepy commuters when Fern arrives, and a brusque nod suggests she recognizes the somewhat-familiar face and will make time as soon as it's possible to do so.
Perhaps she'd like to take a lean in the meantime? There aren't really any stools to speak of. ]
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Well, that's one of her jobs, anyway. Today she's coming off a shift at the gambling den where she's been working for months now. Beyond some tightness at the corner of her eyes, though, she doesn't show many signs of her tiredness. She's been on her feet all night, but she returns Jasnah's nod and then walks up to the counter without any complaint.
She does lean an arm up on it, though, letting out a low breath as she looks for a menu. She'll be sleeping once she makes it back to her shared motel room, but that doesn't necessarily preclude some caffeine. ]
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Being so very new and so very dubious at all this shot-pulling, it takes Jasnah a moment to finish up with the current order and send the customer on their way. But eventually she makes her way down the counter to greet Fern. ]
— It's on me.
[ Whatever she orders. Consider it interest on top of the thin envelope of joolies she slides across the counter. ]
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Must it be so complicated?
She does make note of the book. Evidently, Jasnah's been in the same conundrum, which is worse in her case when she's the one actually serving up the hot (or cold) drinks. Hopefully she's a quick learner. ]
Ah. [ Fern glances over, taking the envelope with a brief nod before she's returned to her original problem. ] In that case, what would you recommend?
[ Truly, she has no idea what to order. ]
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She knows what she prefers — and she will absolutely prepare it for Fern. But first: ]
Do you like sweet things?
[ Jasnah does not. But women's food, back home, was ordinarily served sweetened. It's worth asking. ]
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No, not too sweet.
[ She's gathered that these drinks can differ quite greatly when it comes to their sweetness level, and the ones that are too cloying she can never finish.
So it goes for someone who grew up living off the land, where sweet-tasting things were mainly in the form of fruit rather than the more artificial tastes that are common here. ]
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In that case, we will avoid it entirely.
[ She turns back to the small counter she has claimed as her laboratory for the moment. The process is still new to her — unfamiliar tools, unfamiliar ingredients — but she approaches it the same way she approaches any piece of work: deliberately, with quiet precision.
Today's experiment? Something called a pour over. Ground beans into the filter. Water brought just shy of boiling. She watches the bloom of the grounds with a faintly academic interest before pouring slowly through.
No milk. No sugar. Nothing to disguise the thing itself.
The resulting drink is dark, clean, and sharp — far closer to what she suspects coffee is meant to be than the syrup-laden concoctions she has seen others try to order only to have Jasnah dismiss them with a shake of her head. ]
Here. [ She slides the mug toward Fern across the counter. ] Tell me if it is tolerable. I'm still — calibrating.
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Whether or not this job is one some might call mundane, Jasnah is taking it seriously. She wants to do not just decently at it, but as best as she can, and that sort of dedication is something Fern can appreciate.
And not only because it means she now gets to receive a carefully-crafted drink. ]
Thank you.
[ She draws the mug toward her and lifts it with both hands, blowing away the steam a few times before she takes a careful sip.
The taste is strong and bitter, more like a slap in the face than most coffee drinks she's had here. Her eyes go briefly wide and she takes a few more sips before nodding to Jasnah, her own quiet approval. ]
It's good. The lack of all those additions means that the natural taste comes through better. I like it.
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And it's positive! Although Jasnah doesn't smile, there's a slight tug at the corner of her mouth. Storms, progress feels good. ]
I agree.
[ On the simplicity of the flavour. ]
This method, [ she touches the pour over contraption, ] takes longer. But I'm beginning to suspect the wait might be worthwhile.
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She leans forward slightly to look at the pour over contraption in question. ]
I suppose if the line was long, it might be a point of stress that each drink takes longer to make.
[ Though she finds it hard to believe that Jasnah is the sort of person who would be flustered by such a thing. ]
On the other hand, certain things are worth waiting for, as you say.
[ She takes another sip, letting out a breath as the warmth of the beverage spreads through her chest. ]
Consider your debt fully repaid. [ But then her gaze flicks back to Jasnah, curious. ] Although... I did have one question.
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But like she's already identified: progress feels good. Journey before destination. However, this thought process is interrupted by Fern's almost gentle warning. Jasnah takes it well. Positively, even. Curiosity is a virtue. ]
Ask.
[ She gestures openly with her right hand. ]
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So, may as well come out with it. And when Jasnah gestures with her right hand, Fern looks to the left. ]
Why do you keep one hand covered in this way?
[ The design of her sleeve when they met had been noteworthy, and Fern couldn't help but notice that her hand is hidden now as well. It does feel like more than a fashion statement, at this point. ]
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With an uncharacteristic awkwardness — or what might seem uncharacteristic, given how much Fern has seen already — Jasnah appears briefly shy about the hand in question. She knows she shouldn't. She knows it's arbitrary. ]
It's a cultural practice. [ The words are a touch too clipped, too academic. It's not Fern's fault for asking; Jasnah has a lot of complex emotions surrounding the safehand. ] It's considered improper for a woman to leave her safehand uncovered.
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A cultural practice. She should have considered it might be something like that, but... a safehand? What is that? She blinks a few times despite herself, unsure what it all means but also gathering that this isn't a subject Jasnah wants to delve in too deply with a relative stranger.
Always back to what it is or isn't proper for women to do. It surprises Fern a little that Jasnah would bother with such things, but one's culture can be so deeply ingrained. ]
... I see. I didn't mean to overstep, but I appreciate you answering me. [ She'll do the kindness of not pressing on with even more probing questions, opting to take a sip of her drink instead. ] In any case, I should leave you to your customers, but thank you again for the repayment.
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[ — Oh. She's a little quick to clear up any possible misunderstanding on this particular point. So much so that she seems to ignore the not-so-subtle indication that the woman might want to leave. ]
I always forgive curiosity.
[ Even when it's personally convenient. ]
You caught me on the back foot, that's all. No one else has asked about it.
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I always forgive curiosity. An interesting statement, and one that must belong to someone who's curious herself. After a pause, Fern slowly shifts back toward Jasnah. ]
... I see. Many seem reluctant to ask me about my features as well, so I suppose it's just politeness.
[ Which is also her way of saying Jasnah can ask in return, if she wants any of her own curiosity indulged as well. ]
May I ask what a safehand is, then? I've never heard such a term.
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She resolves to ask, too, then. But first: ] The safehand is simply the left hand. The hand that's kept covered. As opposed to [ — she raises her right, bare one — ] a woman's freehand.
[ The reasons are arbitrary and largely historical. But it boils down to: ] A symbol, I suppose, of the division between feminine and masculine arts. The former are things that can be managed one-handed. The latter, with two.
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A further explanation comes, though, and Fern glances back up, a frown growing. ]
There's quite a large divide between men and women in your society, it seems.
[ While there is some of that in Faerûn, Fern had never subscribed to it, nor had she been raised that way. Shifter women were no different from shifter men, and were expected to carry out many of the same duties among the colony. Still, on the Sword Coast she had seen how women could be treated as lesser. ]
When you say arts, do you mean creative pursuits? Or something else?
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[ Once she gets started, it's not so strange to describe the differences. After all, she's studied them close enough to oppose them back on Roshar. And yet she wears the glove all the same. A complicated, personal calculus. One she hopes to avoid explaining now. ]
Reading and writing falls to women. Both in creative and more academic fashions. [ ... ] Whittling and sewing becomes a masculine domain — creative pursuits in their own right. I take it there are no such divisions where you're from?
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