Rhian, Drop Your Morning/night Routine!

Rhian, drop your morning/night routine!

Rhian: In the morning, I don't "wake up" like most do. Instead, I simply get out of bed since I'm usually up all night attempting to fall asleep. Repose rarely overtakes me, and my mind's always reeling. I may have to commission a sleeping draught from a witch one day.

At this stage of the morning, Rafal is usually still out cold, and it doesn't matter how loud I am, so I listen to the morning Kingdom Council spellcast reports from a mirror I've ensorcelled at full volume and review the Putsi market trends as I start on my routine.

The Gillikin Gazette's updates about its ongoing cathedral construction are my favorites though—its flying buttresses rival Camelot's dated, heavier Romanesque designs. I only manage to catch those reports on Saturdays though since I have to be out of the tower and on my way at an early hour most days. Oh, and I tend to cast a spell, so my bed makes itself while I busy myself with more important tasks.

Firstly, I need my ermine slippers and silk dressing gown. I shower and usually start with a facial, rosewater, or whichever magical cure-all I'm currently using to remove my under-eye shadows with.

Though, Rafal's been a bother about the cucumbers I go through. He thinks I'll drain the Woods' supply and that he won't have any left for his sandwiches. Mind you, that isn't true in the least.

I use charcoal imported from Akgul to remove impurities of the skin, and that's been rather effective as of late. I also ice my pores, page through Maxine's progress reports, and keep tabs on the lackadaisical performers. Tracking's very important at a School like ours, you know.

On some occasions, I do my own makeup, but really, it seems to me that only the Evergirls care if they notice at all. These days, I've been fond of whipped beetroot tinctures and orchid cologne. Then, I arrange my hair, dress suitably for the day's activities in whichever clothes I pressed the night before, and polish my boots. I polish Rafal's too. He doesn't notice or care—thinks we're immune to disease and scrutiny—but he's missing the point. It's about image, of course. And I worry that he'll bring bird mites from his Stymphs indoors, and that would not only be unseemly for a School Master, but a disaster of inordinate proportions, even if our health isn't at risk. Think of the parent complaints we'd receive, if we had an infestation. The picket-lines would never end!

When I head out, Rafal's almost always still asleep, so I bring us back breakfast, and wake him then.

Well, I say "wake him," but rousing him isn't as simple as I've likely led you to believe. By now, it's turned into an awfully elaborate burlesque. I switch mirror channels to the Jaunt Jolie Music Hall's Cricket and Brass orchestra production of the day. If that fails, I bang a ladle on our breakfast's silver cloche over him. And if all else fails, I shout "FIRE," "INVASION," or even "PIRATES" if I'm desperate and running late, and that does the trick. I still haven't figured out if he's been deluding me though, or if it's his dreams that leave him with those horrid little grins.

Yet, this particular song-and-dance of sorts has been more of a recent development. His clarion-belled alarm clock from Geppetto's broke last month, and he hasn't had the time to replace it. The flight's a day's trip, and this new class of Nevers cannot be left alone for more than a day because he's sure there'll be either an outbreak of some pox or of some general pandemonium since he doesn't think I'm capable of maintaining order. I'm more than capable in truth.

We eat then, he in his pajama shorts and shirt and black stockings with the runs I chastise him about throwing out everyday, and me in my typical smart attire.

At the end, I wash up, sit, and wait for him to set the dishes to scrubbing themselves, comb his hair, and dress. After that, we split off to our respective sides for the day, and I see him again at dusk.

"Bye." or "Morning, brother." is as talkative as he gets at this time of day before he vanishes into the Tunnel of Trees or crosses the Halfway Bridge into the smog, unless he has a storybook victory to congratulate himself over or another point to bolster his side of an argument with—arguments I naively believed we'd already put to bed the night before.

After a full day of overseeing classes, Rafal legs it over the window sill when he returns and showers immediately when he gets back. Then, he grades papers and exams. On days when he's exhausted by puppeteering mock battle raids or Storian knows what he subjects those poor children to, he passes out in bed fully-clothed without showering, and showers in the morning.

All the while, I perform my nightly skin- and hair care routines, snuff out the candles, and get in bed with an eye mask, in my attempt to get a good night's sleep, often sooner than he goes to bed because he reads news updates and whatever musty tome he's tearing through late into the night.

Sometimes, I wake in the middle of a night terror and realize he's still up marking or reading or scheming, so I confiscate the candles at that point and force him to sleep. Rarely does he listen, and I've stopped bothering most of the time as he reads by the light of his fingerglow instead, contrary to all sound advice. He doesn't view sleep as necessary seeing as the Storian sustains us, but he has no sleep troubles, so I suppose that's an easy conclusion to form if you're him. The latest remedy I've resorted to is tucking lavender into my pillowcase, but I've had not a drop of luck.

space

https://www.tumblr.com/liketwoswansinbalance/760015235513991168

Wow, I’m flattered that you consider me intimidating, Anon. Though, I suspect that if I met anyone from here irl without knowing it was them, I’d either eventually bore you (it’s happened, alas), or I’d be more awkward than you and the conversation would go no further than basic pleasantries (a frequent result of seeing people I already know and discovering I have nothing substantial to say to them and that I’ve what little I knew about them decayed).

That said, if you ever want to dm me, in the near or far future, I’m willing to talk! I am nice, hopefully. (Sometimes, I forget to start with small talk. My fault, no one else’s. Don’t worry.) There’s a chance that stating all this outright probably makes you less inclined to believe me, whatever I say from here forward. Or, this guess could be incredibly contrived and I’ve anticipated nothing in this one-way “conversation.” So, I will just leave it up to you to judge me.

And if this is any help, I am actually cowardly—despite the fact that I write about murder and torture on occasion.

Slightly niche Modern AU Rafal headcanon (Does anyone agree or have a different take?):

I had a random association and now, I'm almost certain Rafal would enjoy Russian doomer music, even solely for its vibes (assuming he is the fantasy equivalent of a Westerner who only speaks a Germanic language because most fairy tales in SGE are the Germanic ones. Honestly, one thing I wonder about, even if we have evidence of Spanish and other accents' existence, is how the Woods as we've seen them are rather monolingual, probably for plot convenience, but that depiction just strikes me as a little strange, like, too deeply suspect that their world is that unified, all by itself—unless the Storian is to blame as usual—maybe we're not meant to allot it any critical thought...), although I've looked up some English translations of this genre's lyrics and they are rather dark, so that fits him fairly well—unless being silent with his thoughts would be preferable.

Yet, one clarification to make: Even if the music might resonate with him, I think he wouldn't be a fatalist until much later in whatever character progression he'd have. Instead, I see him as a doomsday prepper, in probably a more I-will-live-against-all-odds, Western, literally every-man-for-himself, individualist sense as that might be more in line with his character in canon. He'd be obsessed with survivalism and TEOTWAWKI (The End of the World as We Know It) as a concept.

Here is an example of the music I found—I'm not sure if this is actually representative of the whole and I don't know much about it or the historical context though.

Also, here are some English lyrics from various songs under the cut that I just happened to like:

Again the spring has come, And warming rays of sun Are looking in my cell through window-panes Again the heart will ache The feelings will awake And memory recalls auld days

Those days will come to me And I shall feel and see The girl whom I loved so long ago That girl came and left That girl I can’t forget Her image’s always in my soul.

Vladimir prison-house Сold northern wind My transport came from Tver And all my evil deeds Lie on my heart like heavy weights

⸻

Stab me with that stare as i walk by It's like poison in my blood It trips me up just like a stone I'm just sick of people, and they're sick of everything

⸻

My ship is sailing straight ahead, avoiding the land The captain drunk and stubborn He'll protect it till the end Drowning to the right, drowning to the left Not enough lifeboats, there isn't help for everyone Swimming away, I'm swimming away somewhere straight, somewhere away

I feel like a lot of what holds me back from DMing you is my own social anxieties (I much relate to the "default to basic pleasantries" thing). I feel like you'd be a nice person to be around, though, even if we only talk about basic pleasantries. You seem to have good taste and good takes.

Maybe when the idea of DMing people doesn't scare me, I'll DM you. For now, I think I'll pop in and out of your asks every now and then. It stops the conversation from being "one-way", at least.

- space anon

Thank you! I appreciate the discussion.

All right! By the way, you have entire, selective control over how you present yourself over text, and I wouldn't mind it in the least if you were to send a dm and never tell me you were this Anon. You wouldn't even have to interact in real-time if that contributes to your social anxiety. Not everything anonymously done has to be "confessional," if that's the internet stereotype.

Either way, I will be transparent: I don't expect you or anyone to communicate with me verbally or personally at all, to necessarily view me as "real" since you only know the facets of myself I decide to show you through a screen, and realistically, I expect that the only reason I was followed initially was for my value as a commentator than an as an individual, which I'm fine with. (However, thank you to anyone who has taken interest in me as a person and not just as a concept. That was very nice of you to have done.)

And, remember: the stakes are nonexistent if you chose to remain anonymous! So, it would never matter, if you chose to move forward in communicating or decided not to. Even if Anons always appeal to my curiosity, I wouldn't ask you to tell me who you are, and once again, the decision is entirely yours.

Best part of your week??

I’m not sure, but overall, I’ve had a great, uneventful week, aside from the fact that I had a cold and a fever over a few of the past days. I’ve nearly recovered though. And it’s a relief that I’m almost done with an application for something course-related.