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[The noise Flint makes is low, considering—attention fleeting toward the Starkhaven specific mal as if it might be hiding a palace schematic on it as well.]
Without knowing the palace— Vael may have some recommendations, and we could strip or damage a few of the potential rooms to make them seem less inviting. Better our chances.
[His eyes lift again.]
None of this bothers you?
Without knowing the palace— Vael may have some recommendations, and we could strip or damage a few of the potential rooms to make them seem less inviting. Better our chances.
[His eyes lift again.]
None of this bothers you?
[The pinch in his brow which a moment ago had begun to even out into that rather more habitual concentrating frown creases deeper again after a more specific frustration. Her penchant for sliding off the edge of a direct question and turning it into bait rankles.
(Nevermind that that, too, is more than a little hypocritical of him.)]
Yes, it does.
(Nevermind that that, too, is more than a little hypocritical of him.)]
Yes, it does.
[No, it doesn't. But let's be honest—he's not the sort of most willingly placated of people.]
To begin with, all of it. [You little shit.] Even under the best of circumstances, what do we win? Temporary hold of the city, likely traded at considerable loss and with no guarantee that the larger allied force will feel compelled to follow in support.
[A pretty story? For what audience, exactly?]
Starkhaven is fucked if no one makes any effort to save it, [admittedly. But—] I told you and Rutyer that there were things people here wouldn't risk committing to our trust. And now we have to make the best of what's come of that instead of doing this properly.
To begin with, all of it. [You little shit.] Even under the best of circumstances, what do we win? Temporary hold of the city, likely traded at considerable loss and with no guarantee that the larger allied force will feel compelled to follow in support.
[A pretty story? For what audience, exactly?]
Starkhaven is fucked if no one makes any effort to save it, [admittedly. But—] I told you and Rutyer that there were things people here wouldn't risk committing to our trust. And now we have to make the best of what's come of that instead of doing this properly.
[ Yseult's head bobs to one side like she finds something to quibble with in his 'best of circumstances', but as he goes on is tipped slowly back in a gesture of dawning understanding, like ahhh, now I see. ]
You believe we are the reason you weren't taken into their confidence?
You believe we are the reason you weren't taken into their confidence?
[James Flint? Acting the pessimist because he dislikes the fiddly details of a thing? Surely not.]
No. I don't believe any of us here in these offices have much to do with it. But I do believe gaining their confidence is our problem to fix unless we want to find ourselves in this position a second time.
No. I don't believe any of us here in these offices have much to do with it. But I do believe gaining their confidence is our problem to fix unless we want to find ourselves in this position a second time.
We've agreed to support the endeavor, despite their methods. Did you bother to reproach them for going behind our backs? I didn't.
[ She lifts a hand from her cup, wrist twisted. And so? What more is there, now? ]
You've done your best for years to insert yourself into the mage cause. Is there a point at which you'll concede that they will never trust you the way you wish?
[ She lifts a hand from her cup, wrist twisted. And so? What more is there, now? ]
You've done your best for years to insert yourself into the mage cause. Is there a point at which you'll concede that they will never trust you the way you wish?
[Some naturally glinting, animated point in his face goes abruptly blunted and still—a starkly played out check, promptly forced in a more broad direction:]
Our aims here are best accomplished if the people under our purview can clearly see some similarity between their investments and ours.
Our aims here are best accomplished if the people under our purview can clearly see some similarity between their investments and ours.
[ She shrugs. The flop of wrists, palms up, is closer to what's the use? than not really. ]
Whether there's a worthwhile path here is up to the Prince and the Grand Enchanter and neither seems the type to be reckless with their people's lives. Certainly not on the inducement of our trio alone.
[ So whatever happens on the map is their problem. ]
That they went behind our backs to make this offer is not surprising. All are wary to a fault and hold themselves apart; Cedoux and Rowntree cultivate an air of superiority. This move is irritating, but not inconsistent. Our best chance of avoiding a repeat performance is support, which costs us little.
Whether there's a worthwhile path here is up to the Prince and the Grand Enchanter and neither seems the type to be reckless with their people's lives. Certainly not on the inducement of our trio alone.
[ So whatever happens on the map is their problem. ]
That they went behind our backs to make this offer is not surprising. All are wary to a fault and hold themselves apart; Cedoux and Rowntree cultivate an air of superiority. This move is irritating, but not inconsistent. Our best chance of avoiding a repeat performance is support, which costs us little.
Edited (tweaking to clarify vibe) 2023-02-18 00:35 (UTC)
[The narrowed look he gives her isn't inherently argumentative, only half shaded—the pinched off quality suggesting at a lingering dissatisfaction either with the answer, or with her more generally, or the arrangement, or with Marcus Rowntree and Petrana de Cedoux, or the weather, or what he had for breakfast that morning. Or, or, or.
Then, with a certain frowning twitch of whiskers, Flint drops his attention to the little box with the missing top and collection of wooden markers. It's upended, the mixed contents briskly divided into colored sets so he might begin arranging the metaphorical playing field in more detail.]
Then, with a certain frowning twitch of whiskers, Flint drops his attention to the little box with the missing top and collection of wooden markers. It's upended, the mixed contents briskly divided into colored sets so he might begin arranging the metaphorical playing field in more detail.]
[There's wind and, distantly behind it, the sound of battle. As it turns out, you can ride a griffon and send a message on your crystal at the same time. The longer he's worked at griffon-riding, the more likely Darras has grown to take risks while doing it.]
Where are you? Northwards of Starkhaven-- [what's left of it] South--? There's trouble.
Where are you? Northwards of Starkhaven-- [what's left of it] South--? There's trouble.
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