( there are ways she's been protected, and ways she hasn't; that she can offer what it haunts her not to have had, that's not nothing. )
Offered to share mine, though not in office hours, considering.
( it's rare for her to smoke tobacco and not, you know, elfroot. truly, a different vibe. )
I'd other— well, Loxley told me to get a second opinion on the morality of having every piece of paper in the fortress with 'Thranduil Baudin' written on it burned.
Imagine you're a six and a half foot tall rifter elf. All you fucking care about is elves. You're probably assuming the city elves you're seeing are half-elves, a thing that actually exists where you come from, because they look so diminished to you. You've never experienced racial oppression in your entire life. When your people marry, they are physiologically altered such that they can only ever do it once. And a complete stranger, some mouthy human bitch you've never seen in your life, says she's your second wife.
( does that not sound uniquely mental. it feels uniquely mental, as a thing to say. )
But there are people here who were both at our wedding and probably heard me throwing him out of my house on the crystals, the likelihood of it never coming up is—
Slim. I think. You know, how lucky do I want to count on being? I've got one eye.
( then again, maybe all the things she's survived mean she is super lucky? that lucky? )
It was a mess, and I didn't exactly cover myself in glory.
( and she's known since he arrived that she's going to have to address it, but it's so large a thing to address, besides how fucking enormous he is, )
He was among the first people I knew in Skyhold. Not much of his life, but a great deal of mine. The last conversation we had was...civil. Complicated. And then I don't even know when after he departed, exactly. I know I have to say something.
( hey you're a diplomat and not someone she's currently fucking, any ideas— )
[ he agrees. it takes a moment to pull the words out (half waiting for permission, to see she wants ideas and not shared misery,)
but he does. after a while, he does. ]
Beyond the elves, and the first wife, and the wedding, and the — however it ended, y'were close. For a long time. Plenty of small things in that. Normal ones, ones might even seem normal to him. Some breakfast together, some stupid joke he told. Sunrise you watched. Whenever it was when you looked over at him and thought: yeah, this 's good.
That's a kind thing to share. Hard one, maybe, when 's been gone. But making it a story makes it... separate. Someone else. Lets whatever it was then, be whatever 's gotta be now.
( ... it's pretty good advice. and it's a box of memories that she has tried to leave closed, but the further she'd got from her hurt and her anger, the more willing she's been to allow herself to see, maybe, that the end didn't ruin the rest.
she was unfair to him. maybe they were unfair to each other. but it was never all that. the betrayal she had felt, the way it had felt as if her whole world had come undone around her ears, that every good thing now was tainted— did it have to be? they had loved each other. and they had been friends. he had been one of her most important friends, once, before she imagined him being anything else. )
He was the first person who talked about my elfblood like it was a good thing.
(help the business surprises her into a slightly cynical laugh, but she says— )
After. After she was dead. She liked him a lot, but she— my lord had sent her to be my handmaiden. It looked like a punishment, a demotion. He thought he was doing something kind. We didn't even know how to talk to each other, but she sort of disapproved of how much time I spent with him. One thing, for her, you know, an elf to be friends with an elf.
I don't even remember if she ever said, directly, now. She thought he was, you know, presumptuous, I think.
( everyone has been so far much politer about her broaching the topic this way than she was when abby asked her if she speaks her mother tongue,
she is perhaps forced to admit it wasn't a totally wild way to come out the gate. )
I have a book I need to translate, so — I'm going to have to learn. I've already asked Orlov, but I thought I'd bother you and Gela, as well. It isn't urgent, or anything, but if you wouldn't mind...?
A more than fair recompense, ( whether he'd actually asked for it to be on her dime or not. come on. anyway, it's on grampa's dime. and: ) He could do with it. And he'll actually come if he thinks he's being helpful.
( tricking stoic men into doing things that are good for them 101. )
It's a collection of poetry in the authors' original Nevarran; I've read a few of them in Orlesian translation, but never in the original. And not all of the pieces, obviously.
I don't know how interesting that is to any of you, but I'm sure we can find something he'd take an interest in. ( maybe needlepoint is necessary to help stephen assess how well he's avoided cognitive decline by detoxing off lyrium, and it's actually prescriptive, )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I shouldn't have worried. Mm. I just don't want her to feel— oh, you know.
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[ she's twenty, and sad, and stuck with them all the same. doesn't need to worry for folks talking 'round her back. that maybe gwen didn't, either — ]
How you doing today? Try those fancy cigarettes?
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Offered to share mine, though not in office hours, considering.
( it's rare for her to smoke tobacco and not, you know, elfroot. truly, a different vibe. )
I'd other— well, Loxley told me to get a second opinion on the morality of having every piece of paper in the fortress with 'Thranduil Baudin' written on it burned.
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In that plan, y'ever talk about it, or just hope you didn't miss a page?
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It's going to sound completely fucking insane to him, if I say anything.
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Imagine you're a six and a half foot tall rifter elf. All you fucking care about is elves. You're probably assuming the city elves you're seeing are half-elves, a thing that actually exists where you come from, because they look so diminished to you. You've never experienced racial oppression in your entire life. When your people marry, they are physiologically altered such that they can only ever do it once. And a complete stranger, some mouthy human bitch you've never seen in your life, says she's your second wife.
( does that not sound uniquely mental. it feels uniquely mental, as a thing to say. )
But there are people here who were both at our wedding and probably heard me throwing him out of my house on the crystals, the likelihood of it never coming up is—
Slim. I think. You know, how lucky do I want to count on being? I've got one eye.
( then again, maybe all the things she's survived mean she is super lucky? that lucky? )
1/2
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Not— good.
( perhaps even bad. )
It was a mess, and I didn't exactly cover myself in glory.
( and she's known since he arrived that she's going to have to address it, but it's so large a thing to address, besides how fucking enormous he is, )
He was among the first people I knew in Skyhold. Not much of his life, but a great deal of mine. The last conversation we had was...civil. Complicated. And then I don't even know when after he departed, exactly. I know I have to say something.
( hey you're a diplomat and not someone she's currently fucking, any ideas— )
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[ he agrees. it takes a moment to pull the words out (half waiting for permission, to see she wants ideas and not shared misery,)
but he does. after a while, he does. ]
Beyond the elves, and the first wife, and the wedding, and the — however it ended, y'were close. For a long time. Plenty of small things in that. Normal ones, ones might even seem normal to him. Some breakfast together, some stupid joke he told. Sunrise you watched. Whenever it was when you looked over at him and thought: yeah, this 's good.
That's a kind thing to share. Hard one, maybe, when 's been gone. But making it a story makes it... separate. Someone else. Lets whatever it was then, be whatever 's gotta be now.
[ when they're both other people ]
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she was unfair to him. maybe they were unfair to each other. but it was never all that. the betrayal she had felt, the way it had felt as if her whole world had come undone around her ears, that every good thing now was tainted— did it have to be? they had loved each other. and they had been friends. he had been one of her most important friends, once, before she imagined him being anything else. )
He was the first person who talked about my elfblood like it was a good thing.
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[ but that's a whole different context. a different kind of elf (spirit, impression) ]
He learn before or after your Ma?
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After. After she was dead. She liked him a lot, but she— my lord had sent her to be my handmaiden. It looked like a punishment, a demotion. He thought he was doing something kind. We didn't even know how to talk to each other, but she sort of disapproved of how much time I spent with him. One thing, for her, you know, an elf to be friends with an elf.
I don't even remember if she ever said, directly, now. She thought he was, you know, presumptuous, I think.
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In both directions, if he figured her on the outs.
[ which had to be. you know. bizarre. ]
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( where brilliantly means, the opposite of that. )
—I appreciate you listening.
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( you know. again.
a delay. maybe she's just going to— )
You speak Nevarran, ouais?
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she is perhaps forced to admit it wasn't a totally wild way to come out the gate. )
I have a book I need to translate, so — I'm going to have to learn. I've already asked Orlov, but I thought I'd bother you and Gela, as well. It isn't urgent, or anything, but if you wouldn't mind...?
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but he's felt fraud enough this week, ]
How d'you feel about dinners now'n then? Wanna get Orlov out more.
[ (and alright, gela too) ]
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( tricking stoic men into doing things that are good for them 101. )
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[ another thirty years of that looks longer than ten ]
And I know he and Gela get on. Can rustle up cards or something. What's your book on?
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It's a collection of poetry in the authors' original Nevarran; I've read a few of them in Orlesian translation, but never in the original. And not all of the pieces, obviously.
I don't know how interesting that is to any of you, but I'm sure we can find something he'd take an interest in. ( maybe needlepoint is necessary to help stephen assess how well he's avoided cognitive decline by detoxing off lyrium, and it's actually prescriptive, )
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And I am gonna find us a ball for the griffons. Just gotta figure out how t’keep them from eating it.
[ clarisse’ll sign off, there’s a chance she could win. ]