This report on the Artemeus defection. [ She sounds like she's already pushing fingertips between her eyes. ] Am I correct that you did not authorize this...undertaking?
Did I send the son of a Tevinter magister under the supervision of a sixteen year old with a bleeding heart, both of whom carry rift shards, off to go purchase his favorite slave?
[A short, sharp noise that falls somewhere between Excuse me? and Good joke.]
Quite. Did the Provost? [ that the question to Flint was more or less rhetorical is all the clearer when compared to this one, which is not. Thranduil doesn't seem like an idiot but Yseult doesn't pretend to understand the agendas of giant elves. ] She's in his division.
No. I doubt she would have reported directly to me were she acting under his purview. [ A pause, long enough that someone might rub their temple.] I doubt we'll have any luck tracking down the freed woman, even if we can convince Miss Jones that it would be in her best interests.
[ A similarly long pause follows, but then, why not. ]
I'll join you in a moment.
[ And she does, with a light rap of knuckles on the door and the swish of linen skirts. She brings, in exchange, a mug full of ice chunks, which she rattles in demonstration and offer. ]
She wouldn't have killed him, even if we'd had a chance to order it.
[By the state of the room, it's more than a fair trade. The heavy desk has clearly been hauled as close to the open window as if possible in the hopes of catching even the slightest hint of a breeze. It's the capstone on an already strangely arranged space - clearly there are things that left with Coupe that have yet to be replaced, and a half dozen others that the new Commander has yet to find a satisfactory place for. The only notable addition is a small painting, leaning sideways and unframed against a wall. It's not a good painting, but it is of Kirkwall harbor and there's a prominent black smear that must bust be that horrible old pirate ship lurking in the bay.
He has a cup ready and passes it to her as she arrives.]
You're right. And we can't keep her from doing it again, but we might keep her busy enough to make it inconvenient. Has she said anything at all to you about-- [her project?] --what she would see started in Tevinter?
I've not spoken to her in months. [ She didn't even notice Kitty and Benedict were missing; an oversight she doesn't care to admit or, more importantly, repeat. ] I made the mistake of trying to give her advice she didn't want.
[ She takes the cup and perches on a corner of the desk, shaking a couple chunks of ice into the drink before handing her prize over. ]
But if you mean her desire to start a slave uprising in Tevinter that is not coordinated with the general war effort, then yes, I suspect everyone is aware of that.
Am I to assume that you are against freedom for the enslaved people of Tevinter? [A sidelong look. There is no feasible way for Flint to do anything nearing an accurate impression of Kitty, but there is a parody of something brisk and demanding about the cadence that rings true--
Anyway.] We won't get anywhere telling her or anyone else to simply do what is reasonable to protect themselves. But as far as carrots over sticks are concerned, there are are worse ones than that to hold out.
[No one in the South likes the word slavery. It's some rare thing which all you people agree on.]
[He's settled on the far side of the desk, the cup between both his hands balanced on his hip. He drinks from it intermittently - the liquor isn't really suited for the weather even with the addition of ice.]
We're here to make sense of what they want and put it into the shape of a fight we can reasonably take forward. I'm all for their education - and Miss Jones should be educated -, but it won't make any difference without something real to bait them on with.
The Breach has been closed for nearly five years. In that time, half of Thedas has simply sat by to watch what follows. Is it any wonder most of them - who have either been conveniently insulated there or have come straight from an entirely different war - don't have any idea that what we're fighting isn't the Southern Chantry, or whichever half of Nevarra is convenient, or Tevinter, or for the elves or mages?
[Which is just disparaging enough so as not to dismiss the fact that half the outfit can't be trusted not to somehow stab themselves in the foot if handed an ornamental letter opener.]
When Riftwatch split from the Inquisition - what kept you here?
[ She could rival Cassandra Pentaghast for her disgusted noise, for all it's quieter, less guttural.
And it's a good question. ] The benefit of breaking away was to do more discreet work. That's where my strengths lie.
[ Half an answer, at best. She seems to consider saying more, but gives up, and fakes another sip of her drink instead, a half-gesture of cup and wrist tacking on a you know of sorts. ]
Would it not have been easier to operate quietly under the Inquisition's broader wing with Leliana's blessing? We're a fortress full of rebel mages, a dozen people spat out by the Fade, and nearly every other color of social miscreant you could imagine. It's a hard thing to make discreet.
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crystal; backdated a little
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[A short, sharp noise that falls somewhere between Excuse me? and Good joke.]
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No. I doubt she would have reported directly to me were she acting under his purview. [ A pause, long enough that someone might rub their temple.] I doubt we'll have any luck tracking down the freed woman, even if we can convince Miss Jones that it would be in her best interests.
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Is she alone in that category?
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Then--]
If you care for a drink, there's a bottle in my office.
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I'll join you in a moment.
[ And she does, with a light rap of knuckles on the door and the swish of linen skirts. She brings, in exchange, a mug full of ice chunks, which she rattles in demonstration and offer. ]
She wouldn't have killed him, even if we'd had a chance to order it.
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He has a cup ready and passes it to her as she arrives.]
You're right. And we can't keep her from doing it again, but we might keep her busy enough to make it inconvenient. Has she said anything at all to you about-- [her project?] --what she would see started in Tevinter?
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[ She takes the cup and perches on a corner of the desk, shaking a couple chunks of ice into the drink before handing her prize over. ]
But if you mean her desire to start a slave uprising in Tevinter that is not coordinated with the general war effort, then yes, I suspect everyone is aware of that.
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Am I to assume that you are against freedom for the enslaved people of Tevinter? [A sidelong look. There is no feasible way for Flint to do anything nearing an accurate impression of Kitty, but there is a parody of something brisk and demanding about the cadence that rings true--
Anyway.] We won't get anywhere telling her or anyone else to simply do what is reasonable to protect themselves. But as far as carrots over sticks are concerned, there are are worse ones than that to hold out.
[No one in the South likes the word slavery. It's some rare thing which all you people agree on.]
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Are you suggesting she requires a reminder that she can't accomplish her goals from beyond the grave? That may be beyond help.
[ She nudges more ice into her cup before tasting it again. ] And I'm not eager to encourage her disregard for our goals.
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Half these people have the exact same disregard. They're just better at pretending otherwise.
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[ She drinks, and then lets the mug dangle from finger tips. ]
What are we here for if not to check these flights of fancy with sense?
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We're here to make sense of what they want and put it into the shape of a fight we can reasonably take forward. I'm all for their education - and Miss Jones should be educated -, but it won't make any difference without something real to bait them on with.
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[ Yseult's cup is pressed onto a crossed knee, condensation already darkening the dove grey cloth. ]
If stopping him isn't bait enough for her or any of them, we shouldn't waste our time.
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[Which is just disparaging enough so as not to dismiss the fact that half the outfit can't be trusted not to somehow stab themselves in the foot if handed an ornamental letter opener.]
When Riftwatch split from the Inquisition - what kept you here?
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And it's a good question. ] The benefit of breaking away was to do more discreet work. That's where my strengths lie.
[ Half an answer, at best. She seems to consider saying more, but gives up, and fakes another sip of her drink instead, a half-gesture of cup and wrist tacking on a you know of sorts. ]
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Would it not have been easier to operate quietly under the Inquisition's broader wing with Leliana's blessing? We're a fortress full of rebel mages, a dozen people spat out by the Fade, and nearly every other color of social miscreant you could imagine. It's a hard thing to make discreet.
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Someone had to try.
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Would it be so terrible to appeal to their reason?
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