IC Inbox

[doneisdone]

[Correspond at your own risk.]

Comments

[limier]

[ a breath out, ]

I cannot say. At a guess? Camaraderie.

[ she can imagine how he might write it off, put importance to the intent of her request and not the letter of it,

(it's how she'd have done it; it's how she operates still) ]

But it might as neatly be cowardice. To protect another's privacy, is also to avoid needing speak of it. Either motive might have ruled here.

[ either's plausible. she likes ashlock; until now, has trusted to his judgment. he has character, wits, potential —

he's also a bit of a pussy. ]

[doneisdone]

[Maker. There are few things Teren can tolerate less than equivocation, and if she hadn't become somewhat fond of Wren (don't tell anyone), she'd lose her patience right about now.]

If it's cowardice then there's your answer, [she says in a tone that feels like it should include a 'stupid' at the end,] and if it's camaraderie then the other sod is probably just as at fault, and whatever the case it's clearly the insubordination you're looking for.

[like, duh.]

Now I don't know what you glow-swords get up to and how you solve internal problems, but it sounds to me like you're looking for excuses to stay sat on your pretty arse doing nothing.

[Did she say pretty? Don't tell anyone. Especially not Teren.]

1/3

[limier]

[ excuse?? you?? what did you just say?? ]

2/3

[limier]

[ wait, she did say pretty. ]

3/3

[limier]

[ ... also she's right. this is just avoiding the problem. (there's a reason, after all, that she recognizes simon —) ]

'Glow-swords.'

[ pretty dry for someone who specifically came here looking for advice, wren. ]

You are — [ 'correct'? haha no she's not saying that, they both know who the other is, ] — Insightful as ever.

[ a huff of breath, ]

Did you manage to lose to the druffalo?

[doneisdone]

Yes. [She's not even going to pretend she isn't right and that Wren isn't tell her so. It's just objectively correct.]

....and no. [Sounding much less satisfied.] ...it swam across. I suppose it's mine now. Maybe we'll eat it.

[limier]

Tough meat, but stew it or grind it, and it will serve. [ contemplatively, ] I'd need a new cleaver.

[ and the free time in which to use it. they aren't quickly-butchered. ah, well. it's kirkwall: fish is cheap. ]

I am told — [ in a tone that implies those telling it are fucking morons ] — It is insensitive, not to name the beasts.

[doneisdone]

And I am known for my sensitivity.

[A hesitation of at least ten seconds.]

.....his name is Boots.

[limier]

Boots.

[doneisdone]

Well goodbye.

[limier]

I am lately regaled with the names of twenty nugs, you do not get out so easily.

I was gifted a bottle of brandy in Val Royeaux, it would be terribly inappropriate to keep such a blatant bribe —

[ to herself. ]

[doneisdone]

[A sound of disgruntlement that she couldn't deactivate the crystal fast enough but at least it sounds like keeping it on might be worth her while.]

...so it would.

[Another pause, this one clearly spent mulling something over.]

If you like, I can give you some pointers. On dealing with insubordination.

[suddenly, every warden and templar shudders in unison and has no idea why]

[limier]

Of course, my office is well-suited to receiving guests.

[ no one touch that desk for a while, for their own sanity ]

Or I might come to you,

[ ayyyyyyy ]

[doneisdone]

No. Not here.

[The children are here, and she doesn't have an office. Also, the less of her personal life she keeps out of this, the better.]

I shall see you directly.