[IT'S NOT MINOR IT'S SCIENCE.
In the tones of a young woman who is being incredibly generous and accommodating with her very precious time—]
If you like you might tell me and I will take it down on paper. Though you may need to sign it to validate its accuracy should it come to— er, should it be presented before the Division Heads.
[Sure sounds legit.]
In the tones of a young woman who is being incredibly generous and accommodating with her very precious time—]
If you like you might tell me and I will take it down on paper. Though you may need to sign it to validate its accuracy should it come to— er, should it be presented before the Division Heads.
[Sure sounds legit.]
He nods; when sketched that broadly, it's certainly not hard to understand. "It's hard to let go, when it's that personal. Or even when it isn't, sometimes." One could argue that the entire Mage-Templar war was he killed one of mine multiplied out across countries.
"It had to be jarring, for you both to end up here," he adds, muted but sympathetic all the same. What might have felt like more of a fresh start for either of them.
"It had to be jarring, for you both to end up here," he adds, muted but sympathetic all the same. What might have felt like more of a fresh start for either of them.
Well of course I am happy.
[Her? She's merely a completely objective third party performing her solemn duties.]
But for the sake of being thorough about the inquiry, was there anyone in the training yard, or library and workrooms with you who might corroborate your account?
[Her? She's merely a completely objective third party performing her solemn duties.]
But for the sake of being thorough about the inquiry, was there anyone in the training yard, or library and workrooms with you who might corroborate your account?
Edited 2023-10-18 13:53 (UTC)
"I can understand that." He imagines it must be a different order of magnitude, for rifters. But he remembers the strange comfort of finding Benevenuta here, when he first joined, the strange reassurance of someone who had known what his life looked like years before the war. (Wars.) "I imagine the little glimpse many of us got did not really ... living there must be an entirely different thing. Even the Fereldens who saw the Fifth Blight, it was a year or two only. I would think coming here would have been. An adjustment."
He looks briefly sheepish, then, hearing his own words and feeling their insufficiency. He wants to extend empathy, but he's not sure he hasn't overstepped. She can almost see him resisting the knee-jerk impulse to apologize.
He looks briefly sheepish, then, hearing his own words and feeling their insufficiency. He wants to extend empathy, but he's not sure he hasn't overstepped. She can almost see him resisting the knee-jerk impulse to apologize.
[Laser eyes. Local woman conspiracies a theory.]
Yes, maybe there should, [is all brightness and cheer, however—that airy, high quality of her humoring the sentiment moreso than really endorsing it.] I'll be sure to include a note that you suggested it when I next speak with the Provost.
Yes, maybe there should, [is all brightness and cheer, however—that airy, high quality of her humoring the sentiment moreso than really endorsing it.] I'll be sure to include a note that you suggested it when I next speak with the Provost.
The suit I may be forced to file as an obligation of my post, should this present conversation and ones like it not bear out a satisfactory resolution.
[Wow she is an innocent and entirely neutral third party!!]
Are you familiar with Mister Talis, by the way?
[Wow she is an innocent and entirely neutral third party!!]
Are you familiar with Mister Talis, by the way?
I see.
[In her head, Wysteria counts to five. It's the sort of pause in which someone might be making a note, if they were taking them. Then—]
Well, thank you. I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Anderson. I will let you know if I have any other questions, otherwise please do go about your business as per usual.
[In her head, Wysteria counts to five. It's the sort of pause in which someone might be making a note, if they were taking them. Then—]
Well, thank you. I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Anderson. I will let you know if I have any other questions, otherwise please do go about your business as per usual.
I think that that's not your style. You don't do sabotage. If you wanted to fuck with someone you'd just do it it head-on, no bullshit.
... I don't think you're even that mad about the study. Not really.
... I don't think you're even that mad about the study. Not really.
Pissed off and sad. 'Cause we lost somebody.
Even after all the shit we went through to get you all back.
Even after all the shit we went through to get you all back.
One fine autumn evening, very soon after this, Benedict finds Abby in the dining hall and sashays over to plunk his tray down across from her, quite decisively seating himself right after.
Then he takes a sip of water, eyeing her shrewdly over the rim of the tin cup, choosing his words.
Then he takes a sip of water, eyeing her shrewdly over the rim of the tin cup, choosing his words.
The silence hangs between them a little longer, perhaps, than Benedict intended. He finishes drinking, picks up his spoon and twirls it around a moment in his stew, raises it, blows on the contents, takes a bite. Chews it thoughtfully. And then, finally:
"It's worth doing."
"It's worth doing."
He frowns, temper flaring in the glint of his eyes before he pushes it down, takes another resolute bite.
"Do you know how many Rifters have come through this place, Abby?" he asks, once he's collected himself, his gaze hard. Hurt.
"Do you know how many Rifters have come through this place, Abby?" he asks, once he's collected himself, his gaze hard. Hurt.
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