Mr. Fisk was proving himself something of a friend to her. She wasn’t sure whether this was a conclusion solely in her own mind, but she supposed that had always been her way - meet someone, decide she liked them, gathered them into a collection of ‘friends’, a little like a magpie’s nest of accumulated oddities - and she wasn’t sure she was sorry for it, either.
(If she didn’t like people, she wasn’t hesitant in expressing it; Phyri expected people would do the same to her.)
So she had had strange people traipsing into the house with her before, enough that people didn’t question it. To her face, anyway. Nothing was weird, anyway, while she was a wren. She perched on the desk while he scoured the drawings of the comb. His surprise was justified: after all, whoever thought a comb would do anything exceptional?
“Be my guest,” Porphyria affirmed, hopping out of the way. “I shouldn’t mind if you started asking strangers in the street, at this rate,” she joked - mostly - at his suggestion of the cursebreakers having a lead on this. “And I’d go myself, only everything is more of an... ordeal for me, right now,” she explained, half-rueful and half-grateful, with a little shake of her head. Some things were adventures, that was true, but... the outside was wider than it had ever been, and filled with a vast new host of fears - because wren-size and wren-shape had almost as many downsides as being a woman, out on the streets - and even at home, the home that had always been a sanctuary even then! Eating was weird; writing was exceptionally more effort; getting maids or family members to assist her with anything she had the slightest desire to accomplish was perhaps the worst side-effect of all.
But Arven Fisk had offered his help without her having to recruit him, so that made her feel a little better about it, if nothing else.
“Something to keep you busy if you’re bored, either way,” Phyri agreed, and would have smiled if she could. “If anything comes of it, I’ll be - here.”
(If she didn’t like people, she wasn’t hesitant in expressing it; Phyri expected people would do the same to her.)
So she had had strange people traipsing into the house with her before, enough that people didn’t question it. To her face, anyway. Nothing was weird, anyway, while she was a wren. She perched on the desk while he scoured the drawings of the comb. His surprise was justified: after all, whoever thought a comb would do anything exceptional?
“Be my guest,” Porphyria affirmed, hopping out of the way. “I shouldn’t mind if you started asking strangers in the street, at this rate,” she joked - mostly - at his suggestion of the cursebreakers having a lead on this. “And I’d go myself, only everything is more of an... ordeal for me, right now,” she explained, half-rueful and half-grateful, with a little shake of her head. Some things were adventures, that was true, but... the outside was wider than it had ever been, and filled with a vast new host of fears - because wren-size and wren-shape had almost as many downsides as being a woman, out on the streets - and even at home, the home that had always been a sanctuary even then! Eating was weird; writing was exceptionally more effort; getting maids or family members to assist her with anything she had the slightest desire to accomplish was perhaps the worst side-effect of all.
But Arven Fisk had offered his help without her having to recruit him, so that made her feel a little better about it, if nothing else.
“Something to keep you busy if you’re bored, either way,” Phyri agreed, and would have smiled if she could. “If anything comes of it, I’ll be - here.”
a sublime set by Lady! <3