Scrivenshaft’s it was, although fairly soon after entering it sounded as though Adrienne’s worries had been made manifest: whatever she had been looking for was not there.
“I thought to get her a new wizard’s chess set,” Trystan said absently, in answer of her question about Anthea. He was sure his supposed sister’s last set had recently been missing a bishop - and he had a horrible feeling [Hephaestus] had borrowed the piece, or accidentally thrown it in the fire. “But I fancy she might like some of the things in here, too,” he said brightly, trying to cheer her in turn by this distraction, as he experimentally unfurled a sample piece of parchment with a quick-quotes quill. Trystan might find stationery shops a comparatively dull sight, but Anthea was as likely to be need of inks and journals as much as anyone in the family.
But there still remained the question of Ambrosia. “Where was your gift meant to be?” he inquired, squeezing her shoulder and peering into the display cases. “I can ask the shop assistant if he has another in the storeroom, or see if he can’t order another,” he said smoothly, no stranger to asking for things he wanted and sure he could manage to pull a few strings if asking politely did not do it, for it appeared that Adrienne had had her heart set upon it, poor thing. “Unless you want to get your aunt one of these instead,” he joked, plucking up one of the rather flamboyant peacock-feather quills and swatting her cheek teasingly with it. (He wasn’t certain Ambrosia would particularly appreciate peacock-related mockery, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.)
“I thought to get her a new wizard’s chess set,” Trystan said absently, in answer of her question about Anthea. He was sure his supposed sister’s last set had recently been missing a bishop - and he had a horrible feeling [Hephaestus] had borrowed the piece, or accidentally thrown it in the fire. “But I fancy she might like some of the things in here, too,” he said brightly, trying to cheer her in turn by this distraction, as he experimentally unfurled a sample piece of parchment with a quick-quotes quill. Trystan might find stationery shops a comparatively dull sight, but Anthea was as likely to be need of inks and journals as much as anyone in the family.
But there still remained the question of Ambrosia. “Where was your gift meant to be?” he inquired, squeezing her shoulder and peering into the display cases. “I can ask the shop assistant if he has another in the storeroom, or see if he can’t order another,” he said smoothly, no stranger to asking for things he wanted and sure he could manage to pull a few strings if asking politely did not do it, for it appeared that Adrienne had had her heart set upon it, poor thing. “Unless you want to get your aunt one of these instead,” he joked, plucking up one of the rather flamboyant peacock-feather quills and swatting her cheek teasingly with it. (He wasn’t certain Ambrosia would particularly appreciate peacock-related mockery, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.)
