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Now wait a minute, that's— I mean—
[ A show of flustered reluctance. But only a show. ]
—all right.
[ It's not as if he's going to wear the shoes. They aren't his size. And the wine has to go somewhere; they don't keep it in the house, for Byerly's sake, and for that and multiple other reasons Bastien drinks hardly ever himself.
The preserves, though. Farewell sweet preserves. ]
I will bring them to you. Are you in your office?
[ A show of flustered reluctance. But only a show. ]
—all right.
[ It's not as if he's going to wear the shoes. They aren't his size. And the wine has to go somewhere; they don't keep it in the house, for Byerly's sake, and for that and multiple other reasons Bastien drinks hardly ever himself.
The preserves, though. Farewell sweet preserves. ]
I will bring them to you. Are you in your office?
Showing up naked for dinner might be a bit too far. [ One of them had to make the joke. ]
He's a laetan, administrator, leans academic, socially isolated from the magister-class Venatori but ambitious more for attention and approval than status, not someone who's going to want to vet my ancestors. I've been playing the virtuous widow trying to run her husband's merchant business, impressed by his knowledge, grateful for his assistance and friendship in this vulnerable time. Putting him off with respectful mourning. [ He can imagine her rolling a hand, and so on blah blah he gets the idea. ]
Maybe a potential rival advisor?
He's a laetan, administrator, leans academic, socially isolated from the magister-class Venatori but ambitious more for attention and approval than status, not someone who's going to want to vet my ancestors. I've been playing the virtuous widow trying to run her husband's merchant business, impressed by his knowledge, grateful for his assistance and friendship in this vulnerable time. Putting him off with respectful mourning. [ He can imagine her rolling a hand, and so on blah blah he gets the idea. ]
Maybe a potential rival advisor?
Vega looks at it, then back at Yseult, whose attention has gone back to what she is writing. She stares at her, hard. Then she gets slowly to her feet and takes her time pouring a cup of water, drinking with her head turned to the side, wary of gulping down anything directly in front of her new Division head.
When she glances back, Yseult is looking at her suddenly, having silently completed her sentence and set down her pen. It makes Vega fumble the cup when it's already at her mouth, and she spills water down her chin.
Mortified, wiping her mouth with her fingers, she returns to her seat.
"I—" didn't suit any of the others, a horrible thing to say if she wishes to be taken seriously. "I believe my skills are best suited to the Scouting Division."
When she glances back, Yseult is looking at her suddenly, having silently completed her sentence and set down her pen. It makes Vega fumble the cup when it's already at her mouth, and she spills water down her chin.
Mortified, wiping her mouth with her fingers, she returns to her seat.
"I—" didn't suit any of the others, a horrible thing to say if she wishes to be taken seriously. "I believe my skills are best suited to the Scouting Division."
Yseult maintains eye-contact (or at least the fix of her attention, if avoided) as Vega fumbles, slops, wipes, sits, and answers. She does not allow a pause to linger after that response, into which might steal an unspoken sense that statement is being compared with action and found less than convincing.
Instead, she lifts a brow and asks with apparent sincerity, "How would you describe those skills?"
Instead, she lifts a brow and asks with apparent sincerity, "How would you describe those skills?"
"I," Vega starts, losing the battle to fidget to at least some degree (her leg jogging underneath her skirt and hopefully out of sight), "I know how to fence. I am very good with a bow. I speak three languages. I am a powerful force mage, and a link to Tevinter, should you ever need that.
"I have a younger brother—" is not a skill, but proof. Her voice is quickening, spine straightening. "And he is horrible, he is the worst person I know, so I have been gathering information on him, for years, so that I can take him apart when he least expects it. He has no idea."
She is also stealthy.
"I have a younger brother—" is not a skill, but proof. Her voice is quickening, spine straightening. "And he is horrible, he is the worst person I know, so I have been gathering information on him, for years, so that I can take him apart when he least expects it. He has no idea."
She is also stealthy.
[With the mage tower reduced to rubble and the structural integrity of this floor on the central tower qualified as officially suspect in the long term,there's a bulk materials to be shifted from the division head offices downward. Some of it, presumably, is too delicate to really trust anyone else with handling. And so here the pair of them are in the war table room, scraping documents out of cabinets and making piles of things in the shadow of the temporary scaffolding keeping the walls up and the ceilings above their heads.
Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust, descended from the ceiling during the first shocks delivered to the tower.
A dozen wooden marker pieces, already knocked away from their rightful places, are swept into a pile on the map. Taking them up by the handful to set inside their box, Flint says the thing he has been thinking:]
I think it's time that I return to Tevinter.
Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust, descended from the ceiling during the first shocks delivered to the tower.
A dozen wooden marker pieces, already knocked away from their rightful places, are swept into a pile on the map. Taking them up by the handful to set inside their box, Flint says the thing he has been thinking:]
I think it's time that I return to Tevinter.
[If Cosima had hoped for a little longer as "most junior Division Head," she's been with Riftwatch long enough not to be completely surprised when that hope vanishes with the Walrus. After all, why just rebuild your organization's headquarters from the ground up when you can do it with massive gaps in your leadership structure?
She and Yseult had both been overloaded before the attack, and that hasn't substantially lessened. Still, Cosima assumes it won't be a surprise when she looks to get a private word. It's a little trickier to arrange without their office spaces currently usable, but at least they've set up enough temporary substitutes that a door that closes isn't too much to ask for the meeting.]
Scoutmaster? Do you have a sec?
She and Yseult had both been overloaded before the attack, and that hasn't substantially lessened. Still, Cosima assumes it won't be a surprise when she looks to get a private word. It's a little trickier to arrange without their office spaces currently usable, but at least they've set up enough temporary substitutes that a door that closes isn't too much to ask for the meeting.]
Scoutmaster? Do you have a sec?
[ Yseult watches dust and small chips of stone shake out of a sheaf of reports and form a small round-ish patch on the floor, only marginally distinguishable from the thinner layer of dust and stone chips already coating the flagstones. She doesn't stop when Flint speaks; she stops when she's finished and prepared to add Fereldan, Haring 9:43 - Justinian 9:44 to the stack. She doesn't bother brushing off her hands before reaching for the next, but does pause, letting forearms rest on thighs, turning to look over and up at Flint from where she's crouched at a downed cabinet. ]
To do what?
To do what?
[ No. Even less than she usually does, when the failures of the intelligence network she's meant to be running are only frustratingly vast and unconquerable and not immediate and surrounding. ]
Yes, of course. [ She has commandeered today one of the small private rooms in the library, and with a toe nudges the unused chair opposite out an offering fraction. ] How are you?
Yes, of course. [ She has commandeered today one of the small private rooms in the library, and with a toe nudges the unused chair opposite out an offering fraction. ] How are you?
Yes she seems very stealthy. The first half, though, fencing, archery, languages, that's good. More useful than Yseult might have hoped. The brother--well, it's good that she's been upfront about it. Beyond that, who knows.
"Those are useful skills," she confirms, with a measured nod. Her head is tilted a degree, chin lifted slightly. "Which languages? And how is your brother horrible?"
"Those are useful skills," she confirms, with a measured nod. Her head is tilted a degree, chin lifted slightly. "Which languages? And how is your brother horrible?"
Are we grading that on a curve?
[So: not great, Bob. But that can hardly be news, under the circumstances.]
I assume Flint came to see you, too. [There's not a world in which he tells Cosima but not Yseult. The world where he tells Yseult but not Cosima might, but they don't have to deal with it this time.] I thought we should ... it made sense to check in on how we're going to handle that sooner than later, before it gets out in front of us.
[So: not great, Bob. But that can hardly be news, under the circumstances.]
I assume Flint came to see you, too. [There's not a world in which he tells Cosima but not Yseult. The world where he tells Yseult but not Cosima might, but they don't have to deal with it this time.] I thought we should ... it made sense to check in on how we're going to handle that sooner than later, before it gets out in front of us.
Yes, they are. Vega seems to feel better, relaxing somewhat, leg stilling. "Tevene," obviously, "Trade and Antivan." She would know more Orlesian had she stayed at home and bore the insufferable weight of her younger brother being the family favourite—
Even thinking about it makes her face feel hot, her pulse race. There is a sharp taste in her mouth.
She swallows before she speaks. "He is afforded opportunities I am not."
Even thinking about it makes her face feel hot, her pulse race. There is a sharp taste in her mouth.
She swallows before she speaks. "He is afforded opportunities I am not."
Something.
[ He'll circle back to it. First: ]
An Orlesian foreigner would be too much, [ maybe, given the degree of hostility there, ] but if you think my Marcher accent is good enough these days, I'm sure I could be convincing as someone trying to impress you.
[ He'll circle back to it. First: ]
An Orlesian foreigner would be too much, [ maybe, given the degree of hostility there, ] but if you think my Marcher accent is good enough these days, I'm sure I could be convincing as someone trying to impress you.
[ Yseult marks her place in this report with a strip of cloth and closes the file, setting it and her pencil aside. Along with the nod it confirms both that Flint has spoken with her, too, and that she agrees it makes sense. That instead of folding her hands neatly in front of her she runs them over her hair (coiled into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck today) before bringing them together in front of her face and then folding the neatly on the desk in front of her suggests handling this is not a subject she's thrilled to need to discuss. Fucking pirates. ]
If it's initially temporary, there'll be less need for explanation. Rowntree holding down the fort in his absence.
If it's initially temporary, there'll be less need for explanation. Rowntree holding down the fort in his absence.
Yes, he spelled out for me that he thought we should wait at least until the ship is too far gone to catch. I get why.
[It didn't especially endear him to her, but it wasn't as if she hadn't followed. At least Yseult seems quietly irritated with his departure too. It's petty, maybe, but it still makes Cosima feel better.]
But on the other hand, if we leave it much longer than that, people are going to start asking questions. If something comes out before we say something, we might be trading the problem of defectors for a wider loss of faith among the people who are still here. Yeah, it's ideal to have a new leader to announce at the same time we're announcing Flint's gone, but that gives us a ticking clock.
[It didn't especially endear him to her, but it wasn't as if she hadn't followed. At least Yseult seems quietly irritated with his departure too. It's petty, maybe, but it still makes Cosima feel better.]
But on the other hand, if we leave it much longer than that, people are going to start asking questions. If something comes out before we say something, we might be trading the problem of defectors for a wider loss of faith among the people who are still here. Yeah, it's ideal to have a new leader to announce at the same time we're announcing Flint's gone, but that gives us a ticking clock.
[ If that made her feel better then she'll love the thin, sardonic smile at mention of the favor Flint's so graciously doing them by not publicizing his plan to the company in advance and staging a spontaneous popularity contest he clearly believes he'd win. If they were in her office, this would be the moment she'd drink. ]
Rowntree is the obvious choice, given his term as Captain and his experience. A mage will be popular and he's capable of professionalism. Barring disaster, we could make it official in a month or so, with as much or as little explanation as proves necessary.
Rowntree is the obvious choice, given his term as Captain and his experience. A mage will be popular and he's capable of professionalism. Barring disaster, we could make it official in a month or so, with as much or as little explanation as proves necessary.
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