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The following morning, Bell hears what sounds like a fire alarm. It's not in their building - it's at least a block away. From her window, she can clearly see the house that's caught, near the train station, and just as clearly see that there isn't any bucket brigade handling it yet.
She seizes her wand from the nightstand and assumes control over the fire; if there's anyone in the unburnt part of the house they'll be able to get out. "SHERLOCK! TONY!" she calls.
Bell wants a second opinion before she snakes this fire down the corner of the house and over the grass to destroy the train station.
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she_sells_seashells
dark_light
"Catalog?" says Isabella, and at Shell Bell's nod they depart the room, lock the door behind them, and go down to ask Bar if she can produce anything even vaguely resembling the forbidden class of items: menus.
she_sells_seashells
At the bar, the following exchange between spoken words and napkins occurs:
"Can you do a clothes catalog? I don't have enough of a background in what exists to know what I want; I don't want Capitol fashion and I don't have to settle for what people in Districts can afford and if Isabella knows anything about clothes it's how to tie those black torn bits."
Well. It would have to be substantially abridged.
"Mes have been here before, right? If you have to abridge it anyway it might as well be oriented around the sorts of things they wear?"
I do suppose that is true. But you know why there are no menus - it's because the options are limitless. I do hope you won't feel constrained by whatever is in such a catalog.
"Inspired," says Bell. "Not constrained."
Very well. If you promise. And the bar spits out a catalog about six times the size of a telephone book.
"Can you do a clothes catalog? I don't have enough of a background in what exists to know what I want; I don't want Capitol fashion and I don't have to settle for what people in Districts can afford and if Isabella knows anything about clothes it's how to tie those black torn bits."
Well. It would have to be substantially abridged.
"Mes have been here before, right? If you have to abridge it anyway it might as well be oriented around the sorts of things they wear?"
I do suppose that is true. But you know why there are no menus - it's because the options are limitless. I do hope you won't feel constrained by whatever is in such a catalog.
"Inspired," says Bell. "Not constrained."
Very well. If you promise. And the bar spits out a catalog about six times the size of a telephone book.
dark_light
"That looks heavy," says Isabella. "Can we get some string? We can tie it up and hang it from the cloud-pine and not have to carry it up four flights of stairs."
Bar produces a length of twine. Isabella ties the massive catalog and dangles it from her branch, on which she sits and floats back up with Bell following.
Bar produces a length of twine. Isabella ties the massive catalog and dangles it from her branch, on which she sits and floats back up with Bell following.
dark_light
"Bar is philosophically opposed to menus. I think anything smaller than this would have made her figure out a way for a restaurant to cry, if the conversation she had with Bell about it was anything to go by," says Isabella, setting down the catalog and producing her dagger to cut the twine off.
she_sells_seashells
Shell Bell flicks the cover open. There's a table of contents, that's good. "Why do you carry a dagger with you?"
dark_light
"Witches do," shrugs Isabella. "I'm better with a bow, but those aren't so easy to have on your person everywhere, and I am officially Not A Clan Embarrassment with the dagger. Are you as clumsy as I am?"
she_sells_seashells
"Probably," says Shell Bell. "And I can't switch to flying, either. I mostly try to avoid stairs and carrying sharp objects."
dark_light
"Oh, there's a sheath tucked in here, but I don't take that out with the dagger," shrugs Isabella, peering over Bell's shoulder at jeans.
dark_light
"You can suggest things, but I don't think you get to break any ties on the subject of Bell's wardrobe, since she's the one who'll wear it," says Isabella.
truthwright
"Well, yeah," he says. "What kind of clothes do you want, anyway? Stuff that looks nice, or stuff that feels nice?"
she_sells_seashells
"I want... practical stuff," says Bell. "I trip and knock things over enough without any help. I think District Three gets pretty cold in the winter, but I'm staying indoors and won't need a coat, just maybe something a little heavier... I think it can probably manage to look nice at the same time, though. I like these," she says, running a finger over a pair of jeans that fade from dark blue at the hips and ankles to nearly white at the knees. She frowns. "There are no prices in this book. Thanks ever so, Bar..."
dark_light
"Of the things on this page spread, those are my favorites too, which bodes well," says Isabella. "Not that I spend much time thinking about clothes. I like witch silks because I don't have to think about them." She pulls out her notebook and writes down the page number and position and fadey jeans, then turns the page.
The pair of them continue to have roughly matching opinions about everything, and after they've been looking long enough that this seems like a consistent phenomenon, they divide the book in half - Isabella looks at pages on the right, Shell Bell at pages on the left - and go twice as quickly, with Isabella note-taking when they find something that might be worth going back to.
The pair of them continue to have roughly matching opinions about everything, and after they've been looking long enough that this seems like a consistent phenomenon, they divide the book in half - Isabella looks at pages on the right, Shell Bell at pages on the left - and go twice as quickly, with Isabella note-taking when they find something that might be worth going back to.
truthwright
Kas mainly watches all this.
Partway through, Petaal becomes a maned lioness and they snuggle up a short distance away.
Partway through, Petaal becomes a maned lioness and they snuggle up a short distance away.
she_sells_seashells
Shell Bell doesn't really want to look through the entire catalog. She does investigate a decent fraction of the jean selection, and continues through the shirts until Isabella finds a fitted t-shirt in black stretch cotton with silver "wrinkle" marks and she finds a warmer, long-sleeved flannel in solid burgundy. But she stops at the first page of socks and jots down the most pleasing option on the page without continuing into the world of soft footwear, and completely wastes Bar's kindness in finding her a selection of hats.
dark_light
"I thought you were going to have more to say," Isabella remarks over her shoulder, between looking at sturdy practical boots in pretty colors and murmuring agreement with Shell Bell's selection of short black ones with functional silver-colored buckles.
she_sells_seashells
"We have fantastic taste and nothing needed to be added," says Shell Bell smugly, while Isabella writes down the boots.
She's even more perfunctory about underwear than she was about the socks. And while a few months in Milliways added a little bit of substance to her frame, it hasn't done so enough that she considers it necessary to pick out a bra with a guy she doesn't know very well in the room. She can go on doing without for a while. She can keep the catalog and try again later. (There'll be a later; Tony and Sherlock find the door so often.)
She's even more perfunctory about underwear than she was about the socks. And while a few months in Milliways added a little bit of substance to her frame, it hasn't done so enough that she considers it necessary to pick out a bra with a guy she doesn't know very well in the room. She can go on doing without for a while. She can keep the catalog and try again later. (There'll be a later; Tony and Sherlock find the door so often.)