[Since Petronilla is illiterate and vain, she's spent the last day trying to figure out how to use the video function on the communication device. She finally turns it on and looks triumphantly into the camera - well, half-triumphantly, because she's pointing it at a spot just above her shoulder - but you can see her face and and the neat folds of
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Oh, this is just -- I am so sorry, madame. You've been brought here by a being that calls himself the Admiral and he ... seems to have used you very poorly indeed.
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Then this Admiral is no different then most men, my good lady.
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I am the lady Petronilla de Vilers.
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A pleasure to meet you, although the circumstances could certainly be kinder. Is there anything that you need right away?
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Room 11 on the 6th floor, apparently.
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[And in about ten minutes or so, Mal is knocking at Petronilla's door. She has a thermal carafe full of hot water, a box of assorted bags of herbal teas, and a mug.]
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Madam. You brought me...things. How kind of you. [Pause.] Would you like to come inside?
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I don't mind at all. Thank you for bringing me...this.
[Hand to her stomach, she steps back and allows Mal inside her cabin. It's a perfect replica of the solar that she spent most of her time locked within, though a lot more messy than usual because of Petronilla's initial panic at finding herself suddenly aboard the Barge.
But the rushes are clean and the large bed is at least made, so Dame Petronilla sees no need to apologise for the state of her room.]
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You're welcome. Here, I'll prepare you a cup.
[She opens a packet of peppermint tea, and then it occurs to her that this probably needs explanation.]
Most of the teas and tisanes here are in sachets like this. This pot will keep the water hot for a few hours, but if you need more, you can get some from the kitchen. Or you may wish to ask one of the wardens to provide you with a means to boil water.
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And the pot that held the warm water! Just miraculous.
But of course, very little that's not covered in jewels openly interests Petronilla, so she just nods her head demurely.]
How fascinating.
[Her hand trails down to the front of her kirtle again.]
There is a man here from the year 1665. Is that not amazing? [Small talk. Sometimes Petronilla is capable.]
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[Totally grasping at straws with the year; subject to retcon.]
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A women from 2008. Now isn't that something.]
Pardon me for staring. I didn't mean to offend. [Though really, she couldn't care less.] I am just very confused, and a little awed.
[Perfectly alright!]
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