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It was time yet again to undertake an onerous chore: deciding what to wear for the Feast of Fools. Claudia glowered at her closet, wondering how much trouble she'd get into if she "accidentally" tossed a lighted match inside...after dousing the contents with gasoline. Probably more than she'd care to handle, really. So she merely sighed, strode determinedly forward and dove in. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so the saying went.

Two hours later (and with all sorts of clothing scattered everywhere), she'd narrowed the selection to two choices: formal, and ultra-formal. No doubt of which one she was expected to wear; her mother had sent up the latter just the other day, clearly Claudia was to take the hint.

--God, she needed a drink.

[ooc: Claudia Chareut, Nine of Diamonds, Assistant Director of HR and Pierre's half-sister. Info and such is in the journal; feel free to drop in to help out the poor girl's frustration! Also, can has tag?]

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"'tis the Season," Claudia remarked, refilling her glass. "If I were to appear in any other color, my mother would be bitching about the audacity for the next six months."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "No, thank you."

"My condolences. I'm lucky that my parents don't give me half as much trouble, now that I hold a higher rank than both of them. The idea seems to be that I've done something right with myself." She shrugs, not so sure for herself.

Oh, Claudia could wish. But she firmly believed that Martine Chareut would be giving orders on her damned deathbed. Granted, Claudia held to her own goals these days, but it was still a chore to keep the old woman at arm's length.

"Thank you." Dropping into a chair, she rubbed the bridge of her nose briefly. "I doubt it matters what rank I'll eventually attain; Martine believes herself to be Mistress of All I Do, so I'm more or less obliged to endure it until she finally drops dead." A firm gulp of whiskey. "Of painful and sudden heart failure, I do devoutly hope."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Should I show myself out?" Tally's actually a little surprised to hear that kind of death-wishing, to be honest.

It was no surprise how most breathing and rational individuals felt about Martine Chareut. Hell, Martine herself gloried in the fact that she was that important.

"Only if you've aught better to do," Claudia replied off-handedly. "I'm going to sit here until I get tipsy, myself. There's plenty more, if you'd like a glass."

She steps in, pouring herself a glass with a sigh. "Thank you for the invitation. Do you need to vent?"

Claudia laughed a bit tightly.

"Oh God, Tally. If I started, we'd be here till the summer." She shook her head. "No, not really. I just need to survive this Feast, and then get back to work."

So she could lose herself in routine and ignore her mother's churlish idiocy.

"Yeah. Once the holidays are over, I get to go back into my training schedule full-time." She nods a bit, thoughtfully. "At least, until Easter rolls back around."

"Mm, my sympathies." Physical exertion wasn't exactly one of Claudia's favorite pastimes. Granted, she did enjoy horseback riding and archery, but that was about the extent of her hobbies outside the Castle.

"Never could get the hang of swords-and-daggers-oh-my myself."

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