She'd been in that godsdamned carriage for ages. The second she received Horace's letter she'd tugged out her suitcase and started packing. She hated to think she was this desperate, but he certainly seemed as if he wanted her to come. It wasn't as if she was foisting herself on unwilling company. She would arrange lodging when she got there, she decided. It wasn't as if the place was mobbed, really; it was cartography, not a beerfest or some sort of more appealing attraction for the masses.

And now they were stuck.

"If you haven't got that wheel going in five minutes, I swear by Alioe I will Pull your addled little brain out through your nose."

The wheel of the carriage made its way out of the mud created by the rainy season much more quickly after this threat.

"Thank you. I don't see why you were lagging before."

When they finally reached Plugit and stopped at what a passerby had said was the closest lodging in the area, Laur was exhausted. She wanted to find Horace, but at the same time she also desperately wanted a bath and a nap. She tipped the driver a small amount, picked up her suitcase, and got out to stretch her legs. The little town really was as backwater as people said it was, but already she could see some bookish men in bowties mulling around the town carrying rolls of paper that certainly looked mappish. She wondered why there was a convention about maps and the people who made them, but then it could theoretically be interesting. She almost wished there was a lecture convention or some sort of thing in her area of study available. Perhaps as an adult she'd start one. For now, though, Plugit, and the Cartographer's Convention, and Horace.

Horace had arrived in the sleepy town the night before, with two suitcases and his thoughts. He hoped to the gods that the town wasn’t human infested, but when he arrived there was no way of knowing. The only eligible lodging the town had was actually quite descent, a renovated old manor. Although it couldn’t have been altogether appreciated at the time of his arrival, it was obviously a legitimate establishment. The old manor was built of faded tan bricks, it must have been the largest building in the town; there was a great room that doubled as a lobby, a kitchen that must have been in use since the days of Ro, and at least twelve rooms for guest.

Horace had gone to bed at one o’clock in the morning, so waking up around lunch time was to be expected. He probably would have stayed in the land of dreams if it wasn’t for the noon sun piercing through his window to stab his eyes. He arose with a yawn and stretch, a smile forming immediately. He suddenly remembered he was in Plugit and that he was, hopefully, supposed to meet Laur. He jumped out of his bed and putting his pants on. His parents had already left the hotel for the maps; his father was enthusiastic as he was. As he tied his burgundy cravat, he decided to look out the window; the rain had lightened up considerably and he could actually see the sun. He looked down at the cartographers arriving, most were galdori and most would stay at the only real galdori establishment in the town. Several men with glasses carrying tubes that most likely held maps of all kinds slowly flooded into the doors under him. But one person stood out from all of them, it was a woman; a woman with pitch black hair and was considerably smaller than most. It was Laur! Horace’s smile had morphed into a giant grin

She came! She came!

He quickly finished up the cravat and grabbed his coat and top hat. He ran down the stairs, bumping into other patrons. He would have usually stopped and apologized, but not today, today was about Laur. He virtually started into a sprint as soon as she came into view. She was looking the other way, possibly observing the town. She hadn’t seen him yet, just the way he dreamed. He slowed down as soon as her wonderful perfume could be smelled and her field could be felt, she could probably felt his too.

He decided to make his introduction quick and easy. “Hello, Laur, It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He still had the giant grin plastered all over his face.

She was quite a bit startled by Horace's startled, rumpled entrance, and jumped, thus slipping in a puddle and falling in a heap on the ground. Brushing her hair back out of her face, but not attempting to get out of a puddle in high heels as she'd be sure to slip again, she smiled slightly.

"Yes. Yes, it certainly has. Would you be so kind as to...?"

Looking up stopped her sentence short. She had missed him, missed him too much. She didn't miss her family this much. Would it be too forward to hug him? The point was moot anyway, since she couldn't get up. She suddenly realized how long she'd been staring and changed the subject quickly and sloppily.

"Goodness, I'm getting wet. I...I..." Lost for words again. Damn, but she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't. Twenty-year-old women did not cry upon being reunited with a friend. She was reduced to staring at her lap, afraid to look up for fear she would get too emotional.

You're being a silly girl. It's been a week, Laur, only a week. You're just pathetic and don't have any friends.

Horace wasn’t expecting Laur to suddenly slip and fall at his entrance; he couldn’t help but feel bad. The water that splashed up stained his pants slightly, he wasn’t going to hold her to it though, and it was his fault anyway. Without a word, just a smile, he helped her up from the muddiness that had brought her down in the first place.

“It seems like it’s been so long, Laur. I am quite happy to see you.” The grin had begun to fade, but it was still obviously he was happy at the situation. “I am extremely sorry about startling you. I was just excited about seeing you.” Horace wasn’t doing a good job at concealing his feelings, but he didn’t care anymore anyway. Although he would never tell Laur how he felt, it was too soon; they had only known each other for a month. Other, younger, students had started courting a lot sooner then a month though, but Horace and Laur were childen of logic; for them it was too soon.

Horace noticed the bag lying on the floor next to her, after falling and landing in a puddle, she shouldn’t be made to carry things. Horace went for the slightly wet bag.

“Here, let me carry this. You shouldn’t carry your bags, not after what I caused. I am almost obliged to carry it.”

"N-no, that's all right, I've tripped, I'm not an invalid. Thank you." She took her suitcase back from him, not angry, just tired. "I'm sorry I'm so awkward today. I've been stuck in a carriage since yesterday, you see. Gods, I'm tired...How are you? It must have been a long way from Hox."

She walked towards the manor, wanting a room terribly. "You look like you just woke up," she said offhand, not really meaning much by it. "I'm going to check in and then I'm going to go have a bath and a nap, if you don't mind. I hate traveling."

I'll do it for you, though.

"We...we can have lunch later, if you want."

She wanted to leave him already? Why so quick? They just met, now she wanted to go? Horace would have none of that. Besides, he wanted to eat right there; the last time his stomach was fed was back on the aeroship, approximately a day before. He wanted to reminisce with Laur, ask what had happened with everyone while he was gone; besides he was all alone except for Laur. He wasn’t going to strike up conversations with strangers, ones he had no chance of meeting ever again, at least

“I’m quite well Laur; I had a good nights rest, that’s why I look like I just woke up, it’s because I did.” A sound that could have been a chuckle, sprung from his throat. “Yes the flight was long, but quick, if that makes any sense. There is no quicker way to travel than aeroship, and it’s one of the most luxurious. My mother and father own a small one that they use to travel around the nations, a small byproduct for working constantly.”

They had entered the lobby, it was quite beautiful. It was obvious they had been preparing for discriminating patrons; Horace couldn’t see anything wrong with the lodgings. In fact, the galdor that owned the property before it became a hotel must have kept the furnished; the furniture looked at least one hundred years old.

They approached the reception desk. “Laur, I’ll watch your bag while you check in, it’ll be safe with me.” Horace’s smile turned smug and prideful, but an innocent pride; like a child’s. “Oh, and I insist you eat with me before your bath and nap, please.”

She quickly secured a room at the desk, and received a tagged key that purportedly opened it. Room number ten, she saw. Was the world trying to tell her something?

"Fine, fine, just let me change so I don't offend restaurant owners all over Plugit with my mud and I'll go," she said, giving up. "You're hopeless, you know." Meanwhile she was tickled that he was so eager to have lunch with her that he'd make her forego washing and sleeping the road off. Perhaps he was simply taking pity on a sad, desperate woman. Yes, probably.

"You can just wait outside the room, since I'll be out in a few minutes. Be patient, will you? Don't run off without me." She was almost hoping he would, but lunch with someone else would be nice for a change.

Was he coming on too strong? She didn’t really need to take a nap, right? All these questions raced through Horace’s skull. He wouldn’t have been so pushy if he had another friend near by, but alas, Laur was the only other person, besides his parents, that he knew. Magnus and Mania were probably already lost with the gaggle of geographic scholars that had arrived the previous night. Horace would swear that if his father wasn’t such a talented musician, he would be one of the top cartographers in the all the nations. Even though he had never even looked into it as a hobby one time or another, Magnus picked up on things quite quickly; it was evident in all the Aquila men.

Horace’s heart skipped a beat when he heard Laur’s room number, it was ten. Ten was right next to eleven, which was the room Horace had slept in the night before and would be the room he would sleep in for the rest of his time in Plugit. It was as if Alioe wanted them together, as if some higher power had beckoned the two together. Whatever had brought the two intellects together, Horace silently thanked it then followed Laur like a giant lap dog.

The time between the reception desk and to Laur’s room was a blur for Horace. The students spoke of nothing, an awkward yet pleasant silence was the only thing keeping the two together. Sometimes silence was more pleasant for Horace than any actually communication, it portrayed a deepness some people would never understand.

As Laur went to change, he quickly slipped into his room and squirted some Bastian cologne his mother had acquired for him. She said it would make girls attracted to him, like a bee to honey. In fact, the cologne did have a hint of honey in the scent.

Horace returned to the hallway, fixing his hair and making sure his breath was not incredibly repulsing, one of the more blatant flaws of Horace was his mouth. It sometimes has an odd scent to it, it wasn’t a horrible smell; just odd. No one could be perfect.

She very nearly ran into her room, but ladies didn't run, especially in long wet muddy skirts and high heels. However, she walked as quickly as possible, throwing the door shut and locking it behind her. Her suitcase was immediately thrown open on the bed. It had been packed swiftly and so was not folded and creased, and soon her small hands dissected it much less expertly than normal, trying to find a hairbrush amid five days' worth of clothing (plus extras for unforeseen events--never hurt to be prepared.) Finding it, she pulled all her hairpins and started frantically brushing, until her hair shone sufficiently. Time, time, she was running out of time--Laur had absolutely no desire to seem high-maintenance, but she certainly had to look it.

The blue dress. It was the prettiest one she had, iridescent jewel-like blue silk formed into a high collar and straight skirt. She didn't usually wear blue, but of late her mother had been suggesting she should. And so it would be today. The dress had an asymmetrical-cut placket closed by shiny black toggles and a black satin band that covered her torso from chest to waist, where it came around the back in a bow. The dress wasn't overly adorned, but it was definitely pretty, and didn't look too too, did it? She hoped not. She opened her jewelry box and took out a pair of turquoise drop earrings, putting them on, then pinning up her hair with a large silver clip, letting it cascade down her back from the top. It really was too long, but she'd been afraid of haircuts more than a trim since the time her hair had had to be chopped off at the age of six, when one of her cousins had stuck chewing gum in it and despite their trying none of her family had been able to get it out. It had nearly grown out to a respectable length when in her first year of Brunnhold an Ignite spell had flared up and burned her hair off far enough so it had had to be cut short again. She'd spent many years growing it out with little problems, but now she could sit on her hair and it was getting to be somewhat of a hassle. Slight face powder--you don't want to look done up, Laur--new shoes, new stockings, and, what the heck, a splash of perfume. Couldn't hurt.

Done, done, done. She rushed out the door again, remembering to lock it behind her. "Well hello there."

Laur looked different, beautifully different. She was a blue beauty, her dress, earrings, everything shone. She smelt of beauty, too. It seemed both students were primped and ready for lunch.

“Well Hello, you look quite nice.” A jaunty smile was evident on his face, he knew that both of them looked good and were going to be the envy of the lunch crowd. “Are you ready to depart? I know of this beautiful bistro, right by the hotel. We can eat on the terrace, under the tarp of course.”

Horace put his arm out, motioning for her to come. He wasn’t asking her to hold his hand, but take it out of trust.

"Thank you. Erm, yes..." Thank goodness for the powder; she was blushing a bit. Why did people have to be so nice?

"Wherever you want, Horace. That sounds lovely." She wasn't too keen on having lunch at the moment, but it would have to do seeing as poor Horace couldn't be dissuaded. She took his arm, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Lead on, then, sir." After lunch, then she could go be comfortable. Really, she just wanted to sleep. She couldn't fathom why Horace was so eager to take her out, but she wasn't going to say no; she'd read somewhere that that would be impolite, and Laur was almost always polite, unless she had a reason not to be. (For example, Bruthgrave.) She considered books her most important resource in the social realms: Laur and social skills had not become acquainted until recently when she had finally ventured out of her little realm of books and learning. Was there a book for this?

The giant redhead led Laur through the lobby. He held her dainty hand as if it was the Book itself. The ivory that made up the entrance of the hotel, thought Horace, wasn’t as beautiful as the Laur’s ivory-colored skin. The boy was truly love struck; an anvil of epic proportions had knocked him into a world where Laur was a goddess and he was her worshipper.

They walked along the streets of Plugit, he looked up and realized he should have bought an umbrella as well as an awesome honey scent. Horace had heard about a fine galdori ran bistro a little ways up; it was right near where the majority of the map selling was taking place. Maybe after lunch, Laur could meet Horace’s parents.

Finally after a few yards, they finally made it to the bistro. For such a small place, it held an elegance that could not be reached by most small town establishments. The walls were painted with beautiful frescos, the floor was a gorgeous tile, and the seating arrangements were nothing short of perfect. Horace picked a good spot along the window, he liked to people watch when eating.

“Let me get that.” He said, pulling Laur’s chair out so she could sit.

Laur sleepily allowed herself to be led. Why does he keep staring at me? she thought. Do I have something on my face? She rubbed at her face nervously. Her feet seemed to hit the ground harder with every step, and she wished deeply that he'd walk slower. Even with heels, she had much shorter legs. Perhaps he'll just take the initiative for once and carry me. She hated being picked up, but for once, it sounded almost pleasurable.

"Oh, this looks nice," she said as they reached the bistro. She wearily sat down in the chair he pulled out for her; now was not the time to contest that she could most certainly pull out her own chair. She would eat, and then go rest. That was all there was to it.

Horace's eyes flashed, he was excited. This girl, Laur, was having lunch with him. He hadn't gone to an intimate luncheon with anyone in a long time. His music and studies kept him vigorously busy, Professor Poole had been piling on the music theory essays.

"So, Laur, how have you been? What have I missed? Wh-Oh!" The server had approached the table in silence, he was a cloaked assassin and Horace was the foreign dignitary. Horace wanted to resume speaking with Laur, so he ordered quickly. He ordered two steaks and two waters, half of the meal being for Laur. After their server vanished again, he picked up the conversation where it was lost.

"Where was I, oh yes? What has Professor Pritchard been discussing in his lectures?"

Usually, Laur would have protested at the fact that Horace ordered for both of them, but she was too tired to advocate for the rights of galdori women to order their own meals. Someone else could do it.

"History. Honestly, I can't think very well right now...it's hard to remember. How was your stay in Hox?"

Despite her efforts, she looked tired. Mostly she hoped that the waters would come soon.

"Hox was such an amazing place!" Horace glanced around, realizing his statement was a bit too loud for the small bistro. "The mountains were glorious and the cities monumental. It's quite the glorious kingdom, I am proud to say I have roots there." The waters quickly came, being abruptly placed on table, then the server running off.

"We stayed with my distant uncle, he was quite the man. I am going to call on him later in life, I don't know what for, but I will." Horace began putting the glass to his lips when a thought struck his mind. "You know, Laur, would you like to meet my parents after lunch. I haven't had a heap of friends in my lifetime and I am sure they would be pleased with meeting one of them. Now before you decline, let me just say, my parents are two of the nicest people on this planet and won't be judgmental. Though they would like to know if you are a student of the arts, any type of art. Are you?" Finally, Horace took a sip of his water.

"...Horace, must I meet your parents directly after lunch? I feel disgusting, honestly." She took a large swig out of her water glass, trying to be dainty but failing. Damn daintiness. Urgh.

"Perhaps someday I will go to Hox, though. As I've said, I as well have blood there, though it is very distant. Some of my family says it shows in me, though. I don't believe them."

She was making a concerted effort to not lean down on the table and fall asleep. She hated long carriage rides with a passion, and she'd stayed awake nearly the whole time, since she didn't want to fall asleep with only the human carriagedriver there...think of it, he left alone with a young galdori girl! It just wouldn't have been safe. Thus, she was ultimately tired.

"Perhaps we can have dinner with them? I'm honestly about to drop off, Horace."

"Fine, fine, fine." Horace said, a bit bereaved. "We may see my parents for supper, they would probably prefer that anyway. My father has been filled fervor for these Hoxian maps, he's as obsessed as I." As soon as he finished the sentence, the waiter brought the meals to the table. The human waiter was a bit to uppity for Horace's taste. He didn't speak or thank the galdori students for being patrons of the restaurant, but Horace was distracted by other things; mainly Laur.

"As for your stay in Hox, you must stay with me. I already found my future home, I think far ahead. It is quite spacious and beautiful. The blue hues are just memorizing." Horace plopped a small piece of steak into his mouth. Even though the server was a complete beast of a human, the chefs must have had some classical training in cooking. The meat was quite succulent. "How is your steak?"

"That's fine," she said, relieved. She wouldn't have to meet her friend's parents covered in road dust. Good. "The steak is fine, Horace." She wasn't very hungry at all; it didn't really appeal. But she ate some, to not seem impolite. She took a sip of her water. "Aren't you being just a tad forward, hmm? Or are you able to see something in the future I can't?" She looked up at him then; a small, tired smirk appeared. "The mona must favor you much more than me to let you see something no one else's seen before. Oh, as to your earlier art question: I'm afraid I don't do much artistically, at least publicly." She lowered her voice and looked down a bit. She didn't believe it at all, but "...Some people think I can sing."