Aurelie didn't actually enjoy going to the Stacks. There were very often students there, for one thing, and there was something more unsettling about mingling amongst people with the freedoms she didn't have outside of the security of the thick walls of the school proper. Today, however, their regular errand girl was laid up with a twisted ankle, and in the interest of expedience, they had to pick someone else. Aurelie was frequently this "someone else". The downside, she sighed, to being so determined to be useful was that she very often had to do things unpleasant to her. Like go into the Stacks to buy supplies.

Ah well. The day was only moderately overcast, practically brilliant for Loshis. She almost had to squint as she stepped out into the sun, basket in one hand, the other shading her face. She wiggled her toes a bit in her slippers. Much as she hated leaving the thick security of Brunnhold and other passives, she enjoyed the odd change of pace errand-running afforded her. Dearly did she love kitchens, and cooking, but sometimes it was nice to be out under the sky with a task she could linger over. Today, she resolved, was a day to be savored. Now, if only Triston would get to their agreed upon meeting place. Having claimed need of an extra hand, she had managed to whine, lie and cheat her way into having her bunkmate be that extra person. It was, after all, only fair that if Aurelie should get to enjoy some time away from mysterious passages and dead girls in the walls that Triston should as well. (If she were being completely honest with herself, she would admit she found the idea of being out by herself somewhat lonely.)

A slippered toe shuffled against the ground and green eyes darted about. Where was Triston?

"Aura!" Triston called from a distance of a few meters. She slipped on some wayward pebbles while clumsily making her way to where the other girl stood. The moment she reached her destination, Triston began talking. "I saw the most pretty butterfly while coming here you wouldn't believe it it was bright blue and had some yellow on it and it was hiding from the rain under a tree and I wanted to look closer but it kept flitting away I cant understand why a butterfly would be out in the rain though its just not safe anyway that's why I'm late."

It could be called a miracle that she said the entirety of that with out a single breath, but "freak act of nature" fit better.

The owner of the inn that Campion was staying at disliked him, in his opinion, but was clearly rather fond of squeezing money out of him thought the young galdor as he pushed aside watery broth that was certainly not included with the room.

The large, very hairy human (coarse thick black hairs swam at the top of the soup like pond weed) had clearly assumed like everyone and their mother that galdori's were supposed to be able to afford more than anyone else. If he wasn't careful, this endeavor in Brunnhold would well and truly bankrupt him- but for some reason the young golly seemed to be finding excuses to stay, the worrying business over the missing passive buried in the walls being the latest of these. How strange that a boy who had spent most of his school years simply waiting for the day in which he could leave the university and the surrounding area now as reluctant to leave it. Even with the hairy soup.

Luckily, Campion had been seated outside- more out of fear than anything, the aggressive stares of lower races always made him nervouse especially at any time after dawn when the humans started drinking again - perched under a worn canopy that flapped in the wind watching his watery soup fill up with yet more water, inking a few damp sketches. He had been people watching for a little while, until the rain dried up and he could immerse himself in his drawings once again and so would not have seen two familiar figures approaching his festering pile of an inn.

Aurelie's face lit up briefly as she watched Triston approach and listened to her bright stream of nonsense. It was somehow soothing. Between her rambling about butterflies and the errand (despite the cold drizzle working its way underneath her collar), Aura was feeling quite decidedly cheerful. She even managed to contribute to the wet butterfly discussion, though she couldn't resist subtly teasing her bunkmate as she did so. "Now," she said, looking out over the Stacks, "our first stop is--" and here she stopped, spotting an increasingly familiar awkward figure. Mr. Luccullis, eating... Good gods, that looked dreadful. She found herself unconsciously drifting closer to the hunched galdor, trying to determine the exact nature of that offensive thing she assumed was meant to be soup.

"What is that?" Her tone was deeply offended. Why would anyone actually serve, let alone eat, such a horrifying thing. "And more importantly why are you eating it?"

Campion jumped a little as Aurelie's voice piped up, a castigating tone making him feel guilty for- well he wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel guilty about. "Good morning Miss Aurelie, Miss Triston," he said, momentarily flustered, snapping his sketchbook shut and pushing the soup towards the passives.

"It's breakfast. The innkeeper's specialty," he held a spoonful out to the girls, "I think the main ingredient is body hair. And salt water." He swirled around the disgusting mixture and grinned, "The fare up at the school is much better I don't doubt."

He tugged his hat awkwardly, not sure quite where he stood with the two passives, a little outside of his comfort zone- he hadn't expected to see the passives wandering the stacks, especially not to have them see him outside of this particular establishment, with it's rotting signs, seedy smell and drunken creatures lurking just inside but in plain view.

Part of him was still very galdori, and this was rather damaging to one's pride, like a lady being informed at a dinner party that her pearls were fake, and finding that even the servants were smirking behind her back. Part of Campion wished that they would leave him alone, he didn't feel quite his usual self when he could hear rats nestling behind him. Campion prayed that the passives simply thought he was slumming it for a while, he was rather growing to dislike people thinking he was poor- of course he would, he'd grown up with a lot of money. "It's better than it looks," he said bravely of the soup.

"Which isn't hard. You....uh....what brings you two out here?" He tried to take a sip but found he just couldn't bring himself to do it, pursed his lips, pretended to slurrp..."mmmmm...." when they left he was going to pour this bloody monstrosity in the gutter

Triston had been feeling rather cheery even with the rain until Aurelie noticed, and engaged in conversation with, Luckless. Then she felt grumpy. How come Campion managed to avoid her for over a week, thus keeping her from her book, but Triston couldn't seem to not run into him every other day? Was this a class thing?



At first the passive was rather lost from what her friend was saying. What was so urgent it required interrupting the man's meal? Eventually she realised it was over food.

It was always over food.

"aura" She whispered hoarsely, tugging on the other girls dress in distress. Too little too late, Campion had already begun to defend his breakfast.



Triston snorted sarcastically.



"We are shopping, and I thinks its about time to get on with that." She added a little "Ahem" at the end, in case Aurelie didn't get the message. Campion was truthfully less annoying to her now, but Triston was intent on continuing to gush over the butterfly she saw. She had a one track mind, and her train of thought had yet to be derailed by the situation.

Talking about a bug in the presence of a galdor, even an eccentric galdor, was too embarrassing. He might even question why she thought they were pretty. The simple girl would have no defence against such an enquiry other then "because they are".

Aura wasn't listening to Triston, or to Campion's insistence that the food was edible. She watched with abject horror as he brought that hairy, salty mess to his face. Her stomach turned, and every single part of her screaming in protest. How could anyone-- especially a galdor, someone who came from and presumably still had money --put that near their face. She actually caught herself reaching out to slap the bowl out of his hand, and abruptly drew herself back. There was some confusion on her face as she had to remember what she was actually here for, namely, not feeding Mr. Luccullis. "Oh-- Oh yes shopping. That." She blinked, rapidly.

Campion rather felt this was what a caged animal might feel like being gawked at in a menagerie, he nodded his head, "Well you mustn't let me keep you, not with the weather the way it's looking," he nodded over head towards ominous grey clouds, thick and dull like a large woolen coat.

Under different circumstances, on his terms, he might have been friendlier and he realized that his manner was hardly welcoming to the two girls. "Anything in particular you're buying?" he said weakly, knowing their answer would be clipped at best- in true passive fashion.

He was about to ask if they had thought more about the passive girl who either was or wasn't in the walls but thought better of it, drumming his fingers on the table. It really was a deliciously awkward meeting, perhaps Campion would have been better inside- it seemed silly to think that the passives would be judging him, but it was a feeling he couldn't quite shake.

That and a feeling of nausea from the soup.

"Oh, this and that, you know. Mostly things for the kitchen." Her reply was perhaps chattier than it would have been under normal circumstances. Try as she might, her eyes slid down away from Triston and her basket to the hairs swimming around the puddle Luckless had in his bowl. Luckless, indeed, if that was what this place decided passed as food. It didn't strike her as a statement about the establishment, or reaching even further about Campion's finances, so much as it affronted her sense of culinary decency. That anyone, ever, could consider this worth serving to anyone, vile and hateful golly or otherwise, was beyond her. The innkeeper must be human, she decided firmly. For all she knew, human tongues were starkly different from galdori ones. So different that body hair was delicious.

"It's not usually an errand that requires two people," she added, with her usual veneer of chatty cheer slipping over her in the face of this monstrosity. There was something in her basket that she wanted, and she was chirping away as she looked for it. Where--? Ah, there it was. She produced something from the bottom of it with a small flourish-- a cold meat pie, made and pilfered this morning for herself and Triston to have on their excursion. There were about eight of them in there, along with a small wedge of sharp cheese and two apples. (There had been a bit of an excess of zeal that morning.)

"Here," she held out the pie in Campion's general direction. She would never say she had a particular fondness for him, but as far as gollies went he was hardly the worst and besides. Look at him. He was like some sort of malnourished flagpole. Something in her desperately cried out against someone being quite so underfed.

Meat pies were delicious. They were good and tasty and Luckless did not deserve to have them. He could eat all the hairy soup in the world, those pies were hers. Theirs. For the sake of the argument mostly hers.

It wasn't really an argument, so much as it was her making an unhappy face. She tried to anyway. There was very little at the moment to feed her anger. The rain fell slowly in big fat drops, and a small breeze all but eliminated any sense of humidity. It might have been good weather to be depressed in, but anger could not thrive. She barely managed appear mildly annoyed, and seemed nowhere near as venomous as any of her previous encounters with Campion.

Campion stared at the meat pie carefully, deciding on his next course of action. There was the personal embarrassment of taking handouts from a passive to think of, but if he refused then Campion risked hurting Aurelie's feelings and looking as though he didn't want to try anything she had cooked. Deciding it would be best not to seem ungrateful, he smiled

"I couldn't Ms Aurelie, as delicious as that looks, that's your lunch. And my friend the innkeeper would be rather put out if I was getting my sustenance from another source."

And then, before anything could be said or done- the gods decided it was high time they intervened. Thick, fat droplets of rain began to spill from the sky, pounding the paving and hammering on rooftops. Coupled with a strong wind, which would upturn even the strongest of umbrellas the weather was not one wanted to be caught, nor want to spend the day perusing the market in.

"Splendid weather for ducks!" said Campion happily looking at the rain spilling into the canopy from all directions. "It seems my day will be spent indoors with more hair soup."

Well then. Too good to take her food, was he? She opened her mouth to tell him off, then clamped it shut again. This was not an activity she should be engaging in where people could see her. She probably shouldn't even have walked over here in the first place. And now look, it was raining. How was she supposed to go shopping in this? Oh, the day was simply all spoilt now. From the high it had been on earlier, her mood abruptly fell. This wasn't what she had wanted at all.

So she turned abruptly from Campion and held the pie instead out to Triston. "How silly of me," she said, trying to sound as lofty as possible. "To think that such a simple thing would suit such a refined palate as yours, Mr. Luckle-- Luccullis." She fished another one out from her basket and took a vicious bite of it. They weren't supposed to eat them until later, but she did rather need to reassure herself that they were as good as she intended. (They, of course, were, all dripping with meat juice and spices and even some apples.) "What were you telling me about, then, Triston?" It was quite possible she would never forgive Luckless for this.

Campion had to laugh at Aurelie's comment about being 'too good' for the pie as- given his current location and meal situation it was clear this wasn't the case. "Ms. Aurelie I'm eating hair soup, if anything that meat pie is far too good for me, anything slightly higher up in quality of dog food is far too good for me. I didn't mean to offend you, of course I'd be delighted to try some."

The rain howled and puddles filled the saturated ground, Campion felt his teeth begin to chatter as raindrops on his neck cooled, "Umm, I could get you both some hot cocoa inside if you like? I don't know how much shopping you can get done in this sort of weather without catching a chill."

Triston gasped as the weather suddenly took a stormy turn, and almost dropped the meat pie Aura handed her. Each drop of rain seemed to be a small bullet, and vividly she imagined the poor butterfly under fire. It must have found shelter. She thought vehemently. There were no if, and, or buts about it. It couldn't be dead.

With her mind elsewhere, the pie was ignored. It seemed to patiently wait to be consumed, and the more time that passed, the stronger its scent sought to excite Triston's appetite. Eventually she took a hesitant nibble, still unable to think of anything but that poor butterfly. Another nibble followed, and another. Then she took a whole bite, which served well to choke her up at Campion's suggestion that they have cocoa.

It did sound nice. Drinking cocoa inside, away from the wind and rain. They could wait for the weather to settle and then shop. She tried to think of a good reason to refuse, and pondered quite a few that were rather ludicrous as well. None managed to sway the deep love of chocolate that resided in the small passive, and she was forced to admit it. "That's uh- That would be, erm. Ok."

She roughly shoved the remainder of pie down her throat.

Aurelie gave Campion a look that was only moderately suspicious-- for her. That he should be accepting her pies in general was a matter of course; it was food, she offered, he should take it. That he should have to be insulted into taking it, well. There was a little "hmmph" noise as she handed one over. Of course she would never deny anyone food, especially food she'd already offered. It just wasn't in her to do so. Still, she was miffed. The offer of hot cocoa was tempting, but... "Is-- is the hot chocolate anything like that soup, Mr. Luccullis?" He was right, of course. If they went bandying about in this weather, nothing really good would come of it. Not to mention her carefully packed meal would get drenched.

Another icy drop of Loshis rain worked its way down her collar and she weighed her choices. On the one hand, Mr. Luccullis had snubbed her pies. On the other hand, he'd taken one now and she was very cold. Rather wet, as well, and-- oh, well, Triston had already agreed. This took Aurelie aback somewhat; how very unlike Triston to voluntarily spend time with Mr. Luccullis. But, well. She had agreed to it, and Aurelie would hardly wish to get between her friend and chocolate. "I suppose that sounds lovely."

Campion grinned broadly, for a moment and stood up quickly as flustered as a bouncing Labrador puppy. The SPE member in him was delighted he was going to have drinks with passives, they could maybe talk about policy and equality, of course this was before he quite remembered the particular passives he was drinking with. Although, Campion rather suspected they had grown to like him just a little, what with the interview, and the dead passives and the fact that it had been at least some hours since Triston had been violent with him. In some ways it was a shame, there was something rather delightful about the young passive's anger.

"Excellent," he breezed, "c-come inside. You'll have to excuse the place, not really suitable for ladies, but there are some spots not quite as smelly as others."

He started inside the inn, forgetting momentarily the usual treatment of passives, that many humans feared and reviled them, and that they didn't usually just wander into pubs in the stacks.

The inn was, of course a festering pile simply masquerading as somewhere inhabitable a fact that was reflected in the pricing. Nevertheless, Campion scrabbled desperatley for the coins that would pay for the cocoa, and found there were none to be found.

"Heh," he said awkwardly, "I'll put it on my room fee." Alioe knew how he was going to pay that little chestnut. Perhaps Brunnhold was hiring? Though if it was, it probably wasn't looking for a professor of 'drawing rude doodles'.

The inn didn't seem like an inn, so much as it was like a musty smelling mass of rotting wood and stone. Triston didn't go so far as covering her nose, but the urge to do so was there. Why would a galdor stay in such a place? It was so...so not golly. It wasn't cosy or quaint, nor was it pompous and expensive. Not even middle class to be honest.

Her attention was stolen by a bearded thing, that looked very similar to the graffiti in her book. It's special aroma was worse then the building's.

The cocoa had better be good or it was going down Campion's shirt.

Aurelie gave the "inn" a disapproving and rather suspicious glance. It was, in a word, disgusting. A filthy run-down hovel barely fit for cockroaches and rats, in more than one. Even so, she felt nervous. She had never actually set foot in a shop in the Stacks that didn't provide the school with something. As far as she understood it, humans did not exactly have the warmest of feelings for passives. Just like everyone else in Anaxas, she thought bitterly. She shoved the idea aside, trying to recapture some of her former cheer.

"It's, uhm... quaint?" she offered. Why on Vita was he staying in such a place? Surely a man in his position could afford better. Though one would think a man in his position could afford to feed himself, as well. It seemed to Aura that she might have to consider just what his "position" really was.

The bartender looked Campion over slowly, narrowing beady eyes above the bush one might have called a beard. He sucked on his teeth, leaning on the dark wood of the bar, before tilting his chin at the girls.

"No." It was one word, but it indicated a lot. Humans, yes. Wicks, maybe. Gollies, sure. Passives, no. There was too much trouble when it came to passives. They needed to stay where they belonged, and that wasn't in his bar.

In another circumstance, Campion would have argued for the girls. But having spent far more time than he would hae liked in this particular inn, watching the way many customers were dealt with by staff, remnants of which were smeared on the floorboards, he decided it would be prudent to leave quickly and quietly.

"Come on," he said, placing a hand on the back of both passives to steer them out. "I'm sorry...I didn't think."

Outside the rain was heavier than ever, the bar tender watching them so they couldn't even shelter under the canopy, rain drops dripped from his nose and began to soak his suit, "I'm so sorry," he said again, "I forgot, what they're like in there....I didn't mean to..."

Campion wasn't sure what to say, so he smiled hopefully, though a hot flush of shame had crept up his neck. He felt terrible for the two passive girls, no race was willing to accept them and it was his fault for leading them into that pub and reminding them of the fact.

Triston allowed herself to be led out, not daring to even think about lingering inside. The weather was as ghastly as before, but it seemed worse when there was no shelter to look forward to. She stood there looking miserable. Like a particularly pathetic yoffel.

The rain continued to pour down down down, bringing her spirits along for the ride.



She shook her head, splashing even more water on Campion. "The cocoa would probably have tasted worse then that soup looked," She paused to wipe her nose on her sleeve and it was hard to tell if she was sick or simply crying. The rain didn't make it any easier. "Besides, there's other places to g-" The girl's words were cut short by a sneeze. It looked like she had a cold after all. Getting soaked probably didn't help it much.

"Go." She finished lamely.

Campion laughed quietly, pleased that the passive wasn't going to hit him and that this wasn't the end of the world. Passives were much stronger than anybody gave them credit for. Though you wouldn't think it, to look at Triston, the rain soaking her clothes, sneezing in the rain as strands of hair stuck to her face. He had a sudden desire to tuck one behind her ear, which was quite possibly one of the strangest thoughts he'd had in a long while.

"Yes, im pretty sure the cocoa would have had fleas swimming in it."

She sneezed and Campion dug into his pocket for the inkstained hanky kept there, "Here," he said blankly, though the blasted thing was wetter than a kenser in a monsoon, smearing blue ink onto his hands. "Umm maybe not. Look, wear this and just blow your nose on the sleeve if you like," he said shrugging off his jacket and holding it out to her,

"It's out of fashion anyway, my mother would have a fit if she saw me in it."

It wasn't that she was surprised, really, to be tossed out into the rain like that. Just a little disappointed for Triston. The cocoa had been more her wish than Aura's. She was also a little sad for her basket, as well. Poor thing. They'd have to eat the pies quickly, before the rain got to them. She started to offer them up, but when she looked up there was an exchange of coats to sneezing Tristons and quite suddenly, Aurelie Steerpike found herself in the odd position of feeling something like a third wheel. This wasn't precisely something she was used to or even could readily identify, but she quietly took a bite of her pie and tried not to stare.

Triston took the coat hesitantly, as if it were a bomb and not an out of style piece of clothing. She observed that it was much too large for her, so instead of wearing it like a proper jacket she threw it over herself as a blanket. It smothered her in what seemed like yards of fabric. The wind blew harder still, but Triston felt safe inside her new tent. It smelled like ink, and she felt at home instantly. Triston hadn't even realised she was shivering until it stopped.

The passive gazed at Campion with curiosity, no doubt wondering why he had done this. "Thank you." She muttered, hugging the coat tighter but not looking away.

It smelled like ink.

Triston peaking out of his jacket looked, unexpectedly...Campion wasn't sure what, (he was- but it didn't do much good to even entertain such a notion). She looked up at him with confused eyes and he felt the smallest fizz at the back of his brain. It was a dangerous, unwanted fizz, that if ignored would hopefully go away.

"Heh," he said awkwardly, swallowed and started again, looked beyond her at the rain soaked streets. Without his jacket, the rain was merciless against his shirt, clinging to his back like limp damp lettuce leaves. He was going to regret that act of chivalry in the morning. Chills gave him even heavier nose bleeds and his constitution- his mother said- was delicate. But it was worth it said the dangerous fizzle.

"A thank you?" he said with a weak smile, still not looking at her "Don't tell me I finally managed to do something right. I may die of shock."

Aurelie. Talk to Aurelie said a sensible part of him, while a younger part implored him to get back into his comfort zone with yet another stupid joke, "Sorry Aurelie, I'd offer you an item of clothing too, but nobody wants to see me walking around the stacks in my under garments."