Thursday watched the tailor keenly while they held his art, waiting if they did anything.
"Oh, the phosphorescent scarabs are beautiful! I've been thinking about catching a few, setting up something..." they trailed off, momentarily distracted. There was a smile when she took the beetle art back. Then there was a frown. "Oh, I don't uh, you know, I don't really... enjoy court? Everyone's so posh, and for as much as they ride horses, I don't think any of them have ever helped to shuck a damn stable and clean up after the horses." Her face became redder and redder with each word, and she was dangerously close to stabbing someone with her pin and wild hand-waving. "I may not know about the process of clothes themselves, but I know labour, and I believe how much effort that takes, and augh I can't stand being around so many people who don't get they get to live their happy little lives on the backs of the rest of us!" Thursday flung their arms out in anger.Bang! A journal hit the floor, and the anarchist yelped! "Shit, shit, sorry, shit-" The fallen book was quickly grabbed, and put back on their desk. Luckily, it seemed the scare had snapped them from their reverie.
"But uh.. beetle wing dresses was it? That does sound... pretty. As- as long as they're not taking too many? Fuck." That may have been jealousy which crept into their tone. They'd never admit it, but they weren't subtle. "I think trying to shape culture itself is ambitious, but damn, do you think you can? Hell, if you find out how, let me know, yea? Anachronism... anarchy and chrono, without the rule of... time? That's another one of those thing's that 'wrong' down here, I think. Or you've all got your calendars wrong from the rest of the up there" With this, they jabbed at thumb at the ceiling, or, more correctly, the Ceiling. "Do you want to make things from the past?"
"Hm? Well, I just call m'self Thursday, but I guess others have a different name for me. Funny thing down here, not used to it. They call me uh, the uhm, 'The Portentous Pawn'. Damned if I know what the hell they mean by it, though."
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Re: Before Class
Date: 2025-06-17 01:09 am (UTC)"Oh, the phosphorescent scarabs are beautiful! I've been thinking about catching a few, setting up something..." they trailed off, momentarily distracted. There was a smile when she took the beetle art back. Then there was a frown. "Oh, I don't uh, you know, I don't really... enjoy court? Everyone's so posh, and for as much as they ride horses, I don't think any of them have ever helped to shuck a damn stable and clean up after the horses." Her face became redder and redder with each word, and she was dangerously close to stabbing someone with her pin and wild hand-waving. "I may not know about the process of clothes themselves, but I know labour, and I believe how much effort that takes, and augh I can't stand being around so many people who don't get they get to live their happy little lives on the backs of the rest of us!" Thursday flung their arms out in anger.Bang! A journal hit the floor, and the anarchist yelped! "Shit, shit, sorry, shit-" The fallen book was quickly grabbed, and put back on their desk. Luckily, it seemed the scare had snapped them from their reverie.
"But uh.. beetle wing dresses was it? That does sound... pretty. As- as long as they're not taking too many? Fuck." That may have been jealousy which crept into their tone. They'd never admit it, but they weren't subtle. "I think trying to shape culture itself is ambitious, but damn, do you think you can? Hell, if you find out how, let me know, yea? Anachronism... anarchy and chrono, without the rule of... time? That's another one of those thing's that 'wrong' down here, I think. Or you've all got your calendars wrong from the rest of the up there" With this, they jabbed at thumb at the ceiling, or, more correctly, the Ceiling. "Do you want to make things from the past?"
"Hm? Well, I just call m'self Thursday, but I guess others have a different name for me. Funny thing down here, not used to it. They call me uh, the uhm, 'The Portentous Pawn'. Damned if I know what the hell they mean by it, though."