nexus_crossings | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's a curious teenage girl in the Nexus, wearing a white dress that looks like it's from, well, Victorian times. She's been sitting on a bench for a while now, simply people-watching.

After a little time has passed, she takes out a little notebook and pen, and begins to write, slowly and carefully.

When she's finished, she holds up the page for all to see.

It reads: "What is your favorite dessert?"

Clearly, Wendla's priorities are in the right place.

[ooc: Oh, hai. It's Louisa, aka Iphi-mun (I lurk a lot, sorry) with Wendla here, from the musical Spring Awakening. She's deaf, so she won't be able to hear anyone talk, but she can lip-read fairly well and knows sign language. The little notebook and pen might be able to help facilitate conversations too. :3]

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Such a curious looking young lady certainly prompts a lot of curious stares. Eventually she even attracts the attention of one curious spy and Ex-Avenger. Natasha doesn't approach right away but when she does it's with a small paper bag in hand.

Gingerbread

Sign language became a necessity when she was working with Barton, who is almsot entirely deaf as well. She's had a lot of time to practice. She pulls out a few cookies with delicate designs on them and hands one to Wendla.

These are popular where I am from.

She grins when she sees the woman signing--she wasn't expecting it, truthfully, and Wendla is thankful.

She signs back:

I like gingerbread too!

Wendla looks at the cookie she was given. It's so artfully made; she's impressed.

These are pretty!

They're pressed. I always wanted to try them when I was young.

Natasha stops 'speaking' to take a bite of her own cookie, watching the young woman in bemused interest. The warm spice of the ginger settles over her senses like a comforting blanket.

Where I live now makes decent ones, but there's no substitute for the real thing. Do you have a favorite?

Wendla grins and takes a bite of her cookie as well--it's really quite delicious, she thinks.

She nods and begins to sign again.

In Germany, we have these lemon cookies I like--

Wendla pauses a moment to write down a word in her notebook: "Springerle". She shows it to Natasha.

They have a licorice taste too! We have them at Christmastime.

ooc: here's the, er, wiki article for these cookies! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Springerle

I haven't had those in a long time.

Then again, Natasha hasn't been to Germany in quite some time. Work has put her in a lot of different places. Sarkovia probably the closest but it's still nowhere near.

I'm from Russia. The gingerbread were also very popular around that time of year.

Natasha looks around, then gets up. She leaves the tin of cookies next to the young woman.

Want something to drink? Cider? Coffee?

Cider, please!

Wendla's never met anyone from Russia. This is exciting!

My name is Wendla, by the way.

She feels a little silly, having not introduced herself right away, but the cookies really are quite delicious--very distracting for a growing teenager.

Natasha. I'll be right back.

In the meantime Wendla is more than welcome to help herself to that tin of cookies. There's plenty in there! Surely a few more won't go amiss right? Just look at that one there, with the corner broken off. That's no good. It's got to go. Or that one, with the icing smudged. Tsk, tsk. Making the whole batch look bad, it is.

Natasha comes back about fifteen minutes later with two cups in hand.

"Careful, it's hot." She doesn't know if Wendla can read lips, but with both hands full she's kind of limited on options here as she hands Wendla's drink over to her slowly.

Of course Wendla eats a cookie or two. She'd be silly not to!

She'll be wiping some icing from her lips when she sees Natasha return. Wendla watches the other woman's lips carefully and glances at the cup. She takes it very slowly, nodding a thanks.

Good. Wendla's a bright girl and Natasha smiles faintly at the nod. She waits until the girl has her drink securely before taking her own seat once more. Natasha waits until Wendla is neither eating nor drinking before she starts signing again.

What sorts of foods do you enjoy then?

Oh, Wendla definitely likes this topic of conversation.

I like cake a lot! But for main dishes, maybe--

She has to pause and think about this for a moment.

Maybe roast chicken and potatoes!

She may very well be eyeing another of those cookies right about now.

Do you cook it yourself? I'm afraid I never really learned how to cook many things.

The only things she really knows how to cook she learned how to do for work. how sad is that? Natasha tries not to pay it much mind. The tin of cookies is nudged Wendla's way.

You can have them.

My mama does and I help her out sometimes. Cooking is fun!

She takes another cookie, nibbling it carefully.

Thank you! she signs, before wiping some crumbs away from her mouth.

Just don't tell your mama I'm the one who spoiled your appetite.

Natasha's smile turns mischievous, and she laughs slightly before taking a sip of her own drink. Wendla is an interesting young lady and Natasha is increasingly glad that she decided to investigate.

It's a useful thing to learn. I wish i'd paid more attention.

Maybe I could teach you some recipes!

Wendla pretty much just wants to bake more cookies, let's be honest. She takes a sip of her own drink, glad for its warmth, and smiles. Natasha is a very nice person, and Wendla's glad someone here can sign--it makes her feel a little less alone.

Natasha tries to picture herself doing something as mundane and ordinary as standing around a kitchen baking cookies with someone's child. It seems jarring and out of place, but then this young lady has no idea who she's speaking to.

Not subduing the child's parents. Not interrogating a terrorist. Just....baking cookies. How strange.

You'd best ask your mother to help you master some first then.

And Wendla is probably enjoying her own ignorance right about now. But hey, she's just a kid who's pretty innocent. She should enjoy it while it lasts!

I will! And then I can come back and we'll make something together!

Wendla: the most enthusiastic person that's been in the Nexus so far.

A woman in white approaches curiously. She's dark-haired, brown-eyed, and appears to be a nun, or possibly a nurse. The first thing she notices is how young this girl is. It seems a shame for her to be here alone, maybe even unsafe. She smiles a little at the question she reads, though. Sweets are an indulgence, and she has been taught very strictly to stay away from such things; even an innocent food can be a trap to lure a pure soul into perdition.

Still, her order never expected her to vow to asceticism so great she could never have treats.

She crouches by the bench and answers, "I enjoy sweets only rarely. Mostly fruits, or French pastries...but my favorite treat is coffee. Strong coffee, with condensed milk, or very heavy cream."

Wendla watches carefully so she can read the woman's lips. It's a little bit of a challenge--it always is, really--so she probably looks a little odd, concentrating so hard.

She writes again: "You said coffee, yes? I'm deaf, sorry."

She smiles and holds the paper up so the woman can read it.

She reads, and smiles again gently, nodding, then reaches for the paper and pen to respond. "Correct. May I?"

Rather than simply take the items out of the child's hands, she waits for an affirmative. She's attended deaf patients before, when working in hospitals, but usually older adults. They tend to be less attentive lipreaders; sometimes they don't realize they're quite as hard of hearing as they are, or prefer to pretend not to be. Still, she understands that she needs to face the girl and enunciate properly in order to permit her to lipread.

Hopefully Wendla won't have extra trouble on account of Esclarmonde's slight French accent. She can certainly write, though, if so.

Wendla nods and hands the pen and paper to the woman. She's really glad she has these items with her now--they've certainly proven themselves to be useful.

She'll wait patiently until Esclarmonde writes out her response.

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