It is a probably-not-normal level of effort to make herself let go of the idea of being perfectly put together to say: "I— am down. Should get me out the door a little faster, ha. All these layers."
...farm clothes, then. They're easy, comfortable, but a little gross-er and the gloves still won't look weird. Right.
"Right, petticoats and corsets and stuff." Ragatha goes the whole nine with that more often than Pomni, who has some dress days but is also perfectly okay with a blouse, waistcoat, and trousers and that's it. "Yeah, no, none of that. Just easy stuff. I'll see you in like... fifteen, twenty minutes."
Ending the call, Pomni drags herself up and puts on a loose button up, suspenders, and slacks. No tie because fuck it. Bundling her hair into her jester hat and kind of wishing she had a beanie, Pomni begins the trek out to the bluffs.
She was right, at least, about the fresh air being good for her. It doesn't really hit her out on the streets, but it catches up when the smell of impending rain meets saltwater. Pomni lets it fill her polygon lungs and feels---- better. Just a little. Like she has the energy to make it to the bluffs.
Plopping down into the grass, she splits her attention between the view of the sea and watching for Ragatha.
She puts the (deceptively simple, for how she had to get the things adjusted) gloves on first, so she can't go forgetting. Then a simple blouse and— overalls, a choice she'll only remember to overthink when she's already half-way to the bluffs and can't turn back. Simple. Functional. Nothing like what she wears when she's not working.
Somehow haphazardly tying back her hair feels sloppier than leaving it loose, so she does that and then— she's out the door. Mind racing faster than her legs can carry her, but she still makes good time.
And there's Pomni. Ragatha slows in the final steps and waves, feeling ridiculous, before she comes to sit beside her.
"...it— is good to see you." It's not even been that long since they were huddled up in Pomni's inn room and yet the hours between feel like years.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2026-04-06 01:54 am (UTC)It is a probably-not-normal level of effort to make herself let go of the idea of being perfectly put together to say: "I— am down. Should get me out the door a little faster, ha. All these layers."
...farm clothes, then. They're easy, comfortable, but a little gross-er and the gloves still won't look weird. Right.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-06 02:03 am (UTC)Ending the call, Pomni drags herself up and puts on a loose button up, suspenders, and slacks. No tie because fuck it. Bundling her hair into her jester hat and kind of wishing she had a beanie, Pomni begins the trek out to the bluffs.
She was right, at least, about the fresh air being good for her. It doesn't really hit her out on the streets, but it catches up when the smell of impending rain meets saltwater. Pomni lets it fill her polygon lungs and feels---- better. Just a little. Like she has the energy to make it to the bluffs.
Plopping down into the grass, she splits her attention between the view of the sea and watching for Ragatha.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-06 02:20 am (UTC)She puts the (deceptively simple, for how she had to get the things adjusted) gloves on first, so she can't go forgetting. Then a simple blouse and— overalls, a choice she'll only remember to overthink when she's already half-way to the bluffs and can't turn back. Simple. Functional. Nothing like what she wears when she's not working.
Somehow haphazardly tying back her hair feels sloppier than leaving it loose, so she does that and then— she's out the door. Mind racing faster than her legs can carry her, but she still makes good time.
And there's Pomni. Ragatha slows in the final steps and waves, feeling ridiculous, before she comes to sit beside her.
"...it— is good to see you." It's not even been that long since they were huddled up in Pomni's inn room and yet the hours between feel like years.