multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Residents of Castle Bad Ideas and their guests
What: An afternoon in.
Where: Castle Bad Ideas, in Brock Marsh
When: Early afternoon.
Notes: Slice of lifeness! The odd roommates get to know each other a little better.
Warnings: None expected.

Ashelia entered the mansion, closing the door gently behind her despite the bags hanging from her hands. Making enough noise to alert anyone to her presence generally ended badly. Well, in her mind, anyway. One never knew who would be visiting, if those Starfleet men (or whatever they are) were any indication, and catching people’s attention in this home usually meant speaking to them at length about various sundry topics that, while interesting, were stressful to think about. This was mostly because she still hadn’t thought Amalia’s opinion about anything and everything through yet, and she was fairly sure she never would. Though, to be fair, Martel had been somewhat antisocial recently, so that hadn’t been a problem.

The Queen stalked into the kitchen, setting the bags on the table and extracting their contents. It was mostly fruit she had gone to market to buy, but there was some salted meat, cheese and bread as well. She put those aside, though, and set about making a fruit salad. What pleased her most about the fruit market - aside from being reminded of going to the bazaar with Penelo and Fran to trade and barter for supplies - was the availability of citrus fruit. Of course, it had been readily available to her as the Queen of Dalmasca, but it was still expensive, so much so that she even felt a little guilty spending money on it for herself. She had eventually settled for having the delicacy out for people who had come to seek guidance from her on audience days. Here in Baedal, though, it was relatively cheap as far as she could reckon.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Antisocial' is Martel's preferred way to appear; it isn't the truth, but it does cut down on the number of idiots he has to deal with on a day to day basis and he's never been one to suffer fools. (The commentary he might make on his own friends - not that he'd admit freely to having any - besides.) He's been busy since recuperating, catching up on missed work and putting the agents in his training program with Hellsing through their paces to ensure absolutely no one had slacked in his absence (no one had, and if anyone did, they would've learned not to in the future), and for the most part at home he's kept to his study or his areas of the basement, followed around by that mildly demonic-looking cat that so dislikes the rest of the household.

Coming across Ashelia is sheer chance as he comes downstairs in search of a decent cup of tea. "Ah," he says, briefly, "don't mind me."

The first thing Ashelia does is look around, nose wrinkled in distaste, for that godawful cat. The second thing she does is push her things on the counter closer together, to take up less space. Not that the counter wanted for space ever, but she is still technically a guest here.

"Nonsense. I anticipate enough salad for the next day or so. If you'll wait but a moment, you'll save yourself a trip."