... Okay. After a moment's pause to gather her thoughts she begins, "It started after the mage rebellion voted to leave the Chantry. Mages fled Circles, and Templars tried to force them back into the towers. I know they've tried a conclave before and it didn't go so well."
Understatement, but; he knows all of this.
Abby's arms fold succinctly across her chest; she adds, "I don't blame the mages for wanting to get out, but I'm a Rifter and I know exactly where I'm headed if the proposal goes through. I don't want to go into a Circle. Wanna be under the Chantry's thumb even less." Shrug, "That's why I was already going to Cumberland."
From behind that ugly old formidable desk, Flint's scrutiny of her isn't so removed from the same way—weeks earlier—he'd considered that chart book laid out across big central table of this very office. There's something measuring in it, pieces in the process of being oriented on a board. Her answer, bare bones that it is, seems to satisfy some requirement.
"Good," he says with nod, some of the sharp edge in the line of his shoulder falling away. "Should the Grand Enchanter happen to request your opinion on the matter while you're briefly in her company, I would encourage you to speak freely."
Simple enough. Though, here is the part where one might ordinarily ask, 'Any questions?'—
"Okay," she replies awkwardly, transparently relieved at having said something seemingly correct. First time she's ever talked about her own opinion on this. She hasn't asked anybody about theirs, either; Flint won't be where she starts, but she still has a question for him.
Ignoring that he's obviously dismissed her, "Do you want me to contact you when it's done?"
"That won't be necessary. Just see it safely and securely delivered. I'm trusting you to see that no one meddles with it, and that if Fiona asks you to carry anything back that you do the same in reverse."
No, best to be as unobstrusive about this whole affair as is possible lest someone catch wind of the thing. Had it not taken so long to arrange the various parts of the envelope's contents, he might have handed this to her in the middle of the day so as to solicit even fewer questions. But better this than to be seen by the whole company chasing her (or any other likely messenger) down on the way to the eyrie, or stuffing it in some griffon's saddlebag.
He will have to survive with this modicum of suspicion and hope for the best.
Ah, so he's eliminating any possibility of this information slipping into other hands... duly noted. Abby looks at him, searching, but she doesn't ask any of her questions out loud. It's none of her business (is what he'll probably tell her, which is the truth, so).
She takes the letter off the table.
Wait, one more question. "Why aren't you coming with us?"
"Because we're not storming Cumberland at sword point, and my presence there could easily serve to suggest otherwise. Provost Stark will be traveling with you instead. We considered him the obvious choice of representation from the Division Heads."
—Is certainly one way to describe the terse disapproval Tony had met from his peers when he'd made his intention to go along to Cumberland known. But if there is a lack of consensus in the Central Tower, then it does no good whatsoever to volunteer that information.
"Riftwatch is permitted to function as it does so long as we remember who gave us the authority to do so. I suspect a number of us have one reason or another for wishing to avoid the Divine thinking that we might be put to better use if we were drawn closer to her side."
Abby, looking at him, grunts with no clear feeling behind it. Makes sense.
She wants to ask if a significant rifter presence at the Conclave will tug upon the Divine's curiousity– but what's the point in knowing the answer. Flint probably doesn't (realistically, how could he), and Abby is going to go no matter what that answer actually is– so she pockets the letter.
"Okay. Talk to you later," will be her parting remark instead.
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no subject
Understatement, but; he knows all of this.
Abby's arms fold succinctly across her chest; she adds, "I don't blame the mages for wanting to get out, but I'm a Rifter and I know exactly where I'm headed if the proposal goes through. I don't want to go into a Circle. Wanna be under the Chantry's thumb even less." Shrug, "That's why I was already going to Cumberland."
no subject
"Good," he says with nod, some of the sharp edge in the line of his shoulder falling away. "Should the Grand Enchanter happen to request your opinion on the matter while you're briefly in her company, I would encourage you to speak freely."
Simple enough. Though, here is the part where one might ordinarily ask, 'Any questions?'—
"That's all I have for you."
no subject
Ignoring that he's obviously dismissed her, "Do you want me to contact you when it's done?"
no subject
No, best to be as unobstrusive about this whole affair as is possible lest someone catch wind of the thing. Had it not taken so long to arrange the various parts of the envelope's contents, he might have handed this to her in the middle of the day so as to solicit even fewer questions. But better this than to be seen by the whole company chasing her (or any other likely messenger) down on the way to the eyrie, or stuffing it in some griffon's saddlebag.
He will have to survive with this modicum of suspicion and hope for the best.
no subject
She takes the letter off the table.
Wait, one more question. "Why aren't you coming with us?"
no subject
—Is certainly one way to describe the terse disapproval Tony had met from his peers when he'd made his intention to go along to Cumberland known. But if there is a lack of consensus in the Central Tower, then it does no good whatsoever to volunteer that information.
"Riftwatch is permitted to function as it does so long as we remember who gave us the authority to do so. I suspect a number of us have one reason or another for wishing to avoid the Divine thinking that we might be put to better use if we were drawn closer to her side."
no subject
She wants to ask if a significant rifter presence at the Conclave will tug upon the Divine's curiousity– but what's the point in knowing the answer. Flint probably doesn't (realistically, how could he), and Abby is going to go no matter what that answer actually is– so she pockets the letter.
"Okay. Talk to you later," will be her parting remark instead.