[So. The week is long, and in the end there's something to be said for the feeling of simple productivity - the satisfaction of work well done. Not that Constantin has never worked a day in his life, but he's a governor, he sits at a desk and navigates paperwork and people and politics, not— for example, not carrying supplies back and forth around the village for the innkeeper. She smiles very sweetly at him and tells him he's done a good job, and so he supposes that he can skip complaining about how it makes his shoulders ache to help carry, apparently, everything the entire town owns from one end to the other.
It's working and that's what counts. Sure, it's not... impressive, necessarily. Doing what amounts to chores for the locals so they can better focus on getting their lives back isn't glamorous, but it will do.
What makes it worthwhile, honestly, is— well. It's Felix, although if there's a way to express as much without seeming needy at best, Constantin doesn't know it. A long day ending in a quiet evening is more valuable than anything, he decides. The meandering half-conversations they share over those simple meals become the high point of Constantin's days by the end of the second evening, and he isn't really surprised by it. Looks exchanged in passing on the way to their respective tasks, idle grateful pats on the shoulder that linger longer than they need to, private little smiles that aren't private at all and earn him looks from the old lady at the inn— whew. He's really in it now, he knows, but it can't be helped! Probably!
Still, when the Priestess' messenger comes and asks for him, tells him there are children in the orphanage outside of the town's limits that are being menaced by demons, Constantin can't stop himself from going at once. He nearly rushes off the moment he reads the missive— nearly. But Felix...
So! Constantin writes, instead, a quick note:]
Dearest Felix,
[...Hm. Yeah, go for broke.]
Regrettably I am unable to deliver this news in person! A sudden surprise has called me urgently away, and official command (by which I mean, the messenger who glared at me when I told her I would like to pen this note, and is glaring at me still now) hastens my departure such that I cannot stay to tell you as I would like.
Nevertheless! I will return as soon as I am able, and should I linger, please ask after me with the messenger— she says she will wait until I return, to deliver my report with haste.
I will see you soon!
Best, Constantin
[It's a great note with all the necessary detail, for sure. He leaves it folded and held down on the corner by a teacup on their little meal table; his bag is gone and the note says Felix on the outside, so whenever Felix returns, it should be an Obvious Clue.
...And then Constantin does not return for nearly three full days. The Priestess' messenger, who does hang around, doesn't seem particularly bothered by that length of time, and accepts his report without emotion when he finally returns. She leaves, and Constantin, exhausted, drags himself upstairs to go to bed. It's the middle of the afternoon, but whatever— he puts down his bag and the new little chest he's acquired on the floor, and manages to pull off his boots before he quite simply tips over sideways on the bed to sleep. This is fine.
like 2/3? afternoon? don't @ me i'm chillin
It's working and that's what counts. Sure, it's not... impressive, necessarily. Doing what amounts to chores for the locals so they can better focus on getting their lives back isn't glamorous, but it will do.
What makes it worthwhile, honestly, is— well. It's Felix, although if there's a way to express as much without seeming needy at best, Constantin doesn't know it. A long day ending in a quiet evening is more valuable than anything, he decides. The meandering half-conversations they share over those simple meals become the high point of Constantin's days by the end of the second evening, and he isn't really surprised by it. Looks exchanged in passing on the way to their respective tasks, idle grateful pats on the shoulder that linger longer than they need to, private little smiles that aren't private at all and earn him looks from the old lady at the inn— whew. He's really in it now, he knows, but it can't be helped! Probably!
Still, when the Priestess' messenger comes and asks for him, tells him there are children in the orphanage outside of the town's limits that are being menaced by demons, Constantin can't stop himself from going at once. He nearly rushes off the moment he reads the missive— nearly. But Felix...
So! Constantin writes, instead, a quick note:]
Dearest Felix,
[...Hm. Yeah, go for broke.]
Regrettably I am unable to deliver this news in person! A sudden surprise has called me urgently away, and official command (by which I mean, the messenger who glared at me when I told her I would like to pen this note, and is glaring at me still now) hastens my departure such that I cannot stay to tell you as I would like.
Nevertheless! I will return as soon as I am able, and should I linger, please ask after me with the messenger— she says she will wait until I return, to deliver my report with haste.
I will see you soon!
Best,
Constantin
[It's a great note with all the necessary detail, for sure. He leaves it folded and held down on the corner by a teacup on their little meal table; his bag is gone and the note says Felix on the outside, so whenever Felix returns, it should be an Obvious Clue.
...And then Constantin does not return for nearly three full days. The Priestess' messenger, who does hang around, doesn't seem particularly bothered by that length of time, and accepts his report without emotion when he finally returns. She leaves, and Constantin, exhausted, drags himself upstairs to go to bed. It's the middle of the afternoon, but whatever— he puts down his bag and the new little chest he's acquired on the floor, and manages to pull off his boots before he quite simply tips over sideways on the bed to sleep. This is fine.
So, hey. He's back? What's up, sunshine.]