[It feels like an eon ago that he'd told Viktor he would carve up some fruit slices into shapes as a thank you for Ortus. Strange, because it feels like a few days ago that he swallowed a shitton of seawater and broke his old pair of glasses and everything else that happened, but - they're well within the Fruit Slices Age now, and Palamedes figures - well.
He should? Ortus did him a solid, and he really did not have to, and why not excise a portion of his restless lingering anxiety into cutting fruit shapes.
Mostly, it's a basket of fruit that he produces. He doesn't think wasting a ton of fruits with his mediocre attempts to make skull shapes will go over well with Abigail, the Sanctuary cook, but she at least lets him have free reign over the fruit selection if he agrees to eat a few grapes. (Terrifying woman.)
So it is with an extremely quaint literal picnic basket filled with mostly whole fruits and, dotted around on the topmost layer, a bunch of apples artfully (not really) carved to look like jawless skulls that Palamedes sets out on his delivery quest. He's had the glasses fixed with some surprisingly elegant welding that he had nothing to do with, and he is not so grey these days, stomping around in his yellow boots and a dusky dusted cardigan, but he's made the effort to pick a tshirt with the most jawless-looking art deco skull on it, to show his solidarity and support.
It's a brand new day, etc, etc. Time for fruit. He knocks sharply, when he's arrived, and he waits. Does he know this is a place of business, or... whatever karate is? Yes, probably. But still. People are living here? One does not simply barge in.]
ortus → edible arrangements
He should? Ortus did him a solid, and he really did not have to, and why not excise a portion of his restless lingering anxiety into cutting fruit shapes.
Mostly, it's a basket of fruit that he produces. He doesn't think wasting a ton of fruits with his mediocre attempts to make skull shapes will go over well with Abigail, the Sanctuary cook, but she at least lets him have free reign over the fruit selection if he agrees to eat a few grapes. (Terrifying woman.)
So it is with an extremely quaint literal picnic basket filled with mostly whole fruits and, dotted around on the topmost layer, a bunch of apples artfully (not really) carved to look like jawless skulls that Palamedes sets out on his delivery quest. He's had the glasses fixed with some surprisingly elegant welding that he had nothing to do with, and he is not so grey these days, stomping around in his yellow boots and a dusky dusted cardigan, but he's made the effort to pick a tshirt with the most jawless-looking art deco skull on it, to show his solidarity and support.
It's a brand new day, etc, etc. Time for fruit. He knocks sharply, when he's arrived, and he waits. Does he know this is a place of business, or... whatever karate is? Yes, probably. But still. People are living here? One does not simply barge in.]