(open, kinda) it's not enough to say, it's not what's in your heart

[fightingale]

WHO: Leliana & open to friends of Detlef/Anders and those who need to talk to Leliana in the post-Anders aftermath
WHAT: Following Leliana figuring out Detlef's true identity (after he went to the Wardens but before they had a chance to approach the Advisers), Leliana is interrogating those who knew him under either identity. However, if your character has cr with Leliana and would like to speak to her just because, they're also welcome.
WHEN: mumbles vaguely, after this log - somewhat timewimey to allow for flexibility. Mostly the first half of Drakonis, with some flexibility for folks outside of Skyhold for any reason :Db
WHERE: SKYHOLD.
NOTES:
1. by no means do you have to have your character interrogated by leliana if they knew anders/detlef! we can handwave it or come up with something else!
2. information on interrogation and sign ups are here! you don't have to reply to that comment, but it would be really helpful to give me an idea of what information leliana could find connecting your character to anders/detlef, what her scouts might have observed or what gossip there is, and sort of... anything that'll help me blather my way through this. iff you feel so inclined, filling in this form would be super helpful but is not required! :Db
3. if you would like a thread that isn't an interrogation/interview but is instead your character coming to approach leliana to discuss anders fate or even anything not anders related, basically, let's do it! just chuck in a starter or pm me or something








INTERROGATIONS
There are so many parts of Skyhold, so many still under construction and renovation. Leliana has secured such a room for her interrogations. Nothing remarkable, not greatly furnished, or even fully completed. Ivy tumbles through a hole remaining in the old roof that has yet to be patched up, accompanied by stray drips, if an interrogation is taking place during the early morning. Other times, glancing up might reveal a silhouette partly blocking the light that would normally cut down through the hole, the long leg of a spider resting there, sharp black eyes staring down through the hole, or just the occasionally click and chitter of a giant spider's observations.

(Leliana owes Morrigan thanks for more than one helpful contribution during these interrogations, yes. Such is the nature of the offence - even these two have found common ground.)

When one of her interviewees are summoned, they will be escorted to this chamber, or one remarkably similar just nearby, by her scouts. Weapons must be handed over, and then they are free to wait in the stone room, occupied only by a table can chair. The wait is oftentimes an hour at least. Up for four, sometimes, if Leliana is busy with another interrogation, or business that is privy only to the master of spies.

When she does arrive, she waits before the door a long moment, before one of her scouts open it and enters behind her, setting down a chair for her to sit, and waiting just inside the door as a silent presence. Leliana does not sit right away, nor does she speak, instead waiting a long moment before speaking, just to see if her company will speak, first. What they will say, how they will act, allowing herself a moment to watch and to consider.



OOC Note - OPTIONS!
Please pick which one (or combination!) you feel your character would be most likely to respond to, would get them a bit off balance, or that you think would make for an interesting starter. We can pretend that leliana deduced this based on logic and intuition, or her scouts giving her information.

Please note!
Leliana will not be doing anything that could endanger people or cause them harm while they wait for interrogation. She will, however, allow them to be uncomfortable.
For example, if your character has a phobia of spiders, she’d ask Morrigan to not be skittering around over the hole in the roof, and would probably not go for the webbing option. However, if your character just doesn’t like spiders? Totally on the cards. Similarly, if your character has delicate health she isn’t likely to make them sit in the cold, etc.)

1. unbalanced.
One of the legs of their chair is just a bit shorter than the others, so it’s impossible for them to get comfortable or sit for any period of time, without wobbling.

2. sticky situation.
The entire table and their seat is spread with a very fine layer of spider webbing, too thin to see, but enough to just be… kind of sticky and weird oh god why is it sticky???

3. uncomfortable.
The room is either weirdly cool or weirdly warm. Not to a level that would harm health, but just enough to have them sitting there, uncomfortably.

4. fiddling.
Quill, ink, parchment + a long wait. What are they going to do?



WILDCARD.
For other conversations, Leliana can be found mostly in the Rookery. Almost always in the Rookery, in fact, though there may be rare occasions when she is walking the ramparts or wandering in the garden to clear her head, usually very late at night or obscenely early in the morning.
Hit me with your best shot.

Comments

two......

[amygdalae]

[Bruce isn't entirely sure why he's been summoned like this, but judging from... well, everything, he can assume its not exactly for a pleasant chat. He tries not to assume the worst case scenario (did she find out what he really was) but if that was the case Bruce was pretty certain he would be getting a lot worse than just this.

So he deals with it as politely as possible, reminding himself to stay calm as he settles on the chair in the room he's been escorted into. Its hard to not feel the apparent stickiness and Bruce manages to not make a face at that, although he can't help but wince a little when he tries to rub it off from his arms. Sticky things and him aren't exactly the best mix, especially with his rather hairy arms.]

SLIDES IN HERE sorry for the slow

[fightingale]

( Perhaps, upon further reflection, requesting Morrigan's help with the webs was a little unnecessary. On the other hand, the more discomforted a person was the more information they could reveal, and Leliana has no interest in actually harming people. Webs seems a satisfactory means to balance her pettiness and her needs, and sadly Bruce has to suffer for it.

She does not keep waiting so very long, compared to some, claiming a seat opposite him, hands knitted before her. )

Unfortunately this does not make for nearly so pleasant a meeting place as the gardens, ( Leliana starts, expression deceptively friendly, tone light. ) How have you been?

4.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

[Bethany had been told to wait in the room with a cool, but civil tone. There isn't much in the room, so nothing to really focus her attention on. Just the table, the chair, a piece of parchment and a quill with ink.

Bethany sits for the better part of an hour before she finally picks up the quill and the ink, and begins to sketch out what she can remember, of spirit magic rituals. She writes a few questions to herself, as if trying to figure out precisely how to change a certain ritual to do a certain thing. It's grueling work, to be certain.

[fightingale]

( When Leliana enters, there is no need for skirting or dancing about why either of them are here. Not when Bethany was there, is a Warden, has known Anders for years. She knows already why she is here, no doubt. She had always been Leliana's favourite of the Hawke children, when their paths had crossed in Lothering.

She accepts the seat from her scout, sits across the table from Bethany, and waits for her to look up. )

Where shall we begin, Warden?

Wildcard! Because Leliana needs some random

[the_effect_she_has]

It is obscenely early in the morning, when Katniss rolls out of her hammock and almost directly into her boots and clothing. She grabs a cup of water, some bread to eat, and her bow and arrows, before she heads out into the courtyard. Just not through it, but to the nearest wall where she begins to scale, hand over foot, bread in her mouth as she does so. She'll braid her hair when she gets to the top, and over the rampart, but right now it's blowing around in her face.

Never mind. Good practice for distractions.

She reaches the top of the rampart, heaves herself over and pretty much falls right into a red haired woman who is moving along just as she passes. She lets out a curse, trying to twist her body out of the way.]

[fightingale]

( It is a very close collision, but Leliana is used to ambushes and sudden movement, and there is a knife drawn and turned towards the young woman before Leliana even has to think of it. The dim morning light dances along the blade, the quiet grays and purples of a sky that has not yet greeted the sky fully.

As soon as she realises who the woman is, Leliana retracts the blade, expression settling into something torn between apology and irritation. )

My apologies. ( And, more warily, ) What were you doing?

1 + 4

[unbrokenoath]

Kaisa sprawls in the unbalanced chair, and takes a moment to frown as she shifts, wobbling the chair. A few more attempts to shift her weight around, and she gives up on trying to find a good balance. Instead, she lets the chair wobble, rocking back and forth with a foot as she waits for the mysterious Nightingale to show up. And waits. And waits.

When the Warden was told she was being questioned, she had assumed there would be...a person questioning her. Maybe she'd misinterpreted? Maybe she was just supposed to write down whatever she felt she had to say in her defense and leave? That sounded unlikely, but...

As Kaisa wrote, she chewed on the quill thoughtfully, fidgeting and rocking the chair more and more. Before long, she manages to push her weight past the center of gravity for the unstable thing, and with a surprised yelp, tumbles over. She's not hurt by the action--well, maybe her pride. But instead of getting up, she just readjusts herself. Sitting in the chair like it isn't currently upturned onto its back, she crosses her arms, staring at the ceiling.

The paper, should Leliana inspect it, contains all of the information she feels pertinent.

[fightingale]

When she enters, Leliana does not look to Kaisa immediately. She has some idea of the resistance she will meet, not simply due to Kaisa being a Grey Warden, but the general reputation she has accrued for herself about Skyhold. A quick tongue, insolent, full of the sort of attitude and energy that Leliana would have delighted in ten years ago, and been just as likely to have inspired Leliana to walk off in an infuriated huff, as she had so often with Zevran and Alistair. It gave her some measure of preparation, but given the current situation with those two she might have normally considered brothers, it does little to endear Kaisa to her in this moment.

"Warden Daesun, thank you for waiting."

She does not glance at the parchment, nor acknowledge that Kaisa is seated in a less than conventional fashion. "I have a few questions."

1.

[wickedchase]

[Twisted Fate thought, briefly, about just shapeshifting into a rat and squeezing his way out, but he figured it wasn't really worth it. Might as well just deal with this, whatever it is.

The real problem is the chair. The usually elegant, proud, and smug elf is doing his best to not look irritable at the wobbling, but after the last shift, he lets out a sigh and stands up, digging through his pockets for his cards.

He's going to level the hell out of that chair.]

[fightingale]

( Ah, Twisted Fate. His name of choice rather invites an interrogation, in her opinion, though she would never say as much. (And it is perhaps for the best that he did not attempt the evasion, when his Shapeshifting master has allied herself with Leliana's efforts. That may not have gone so very well, all in all.)

It is at the point of his rummaging through his pockets that Leliana enters, accepting a chair from her scout before nodding to them to leave. )

Please, have a seat.

( As if she is entirely unaware of the irritation he is dealing with, but... if this goes smoothly then he need not endure the imbalance too long. )

four.

[chainlightning]

[ Her knife and staff have been taken, but Merrill was trained as a Dalish First for almost all of her life. She doesn't need them, if it comes down to it, not that she's likely to -- Merrill isn't in the Inquisition to cause trouble. Besides, she had known this was likely to happen as soon as Anders had told her that he was turning himself in.

She has thoughts, arguments, but all of those have to wait until someone actually comes to talk to her. Until then -- and likely even then -- she bides her time. At first she sits in the chair, humming to herself; by the time Leliana comes in, Merrill is sitting cross-legged on top of the table. She's still humming slightly, ink stains on her fingers; the parchment in front of her is covered in doodles of griffons and halla and hawks, not to mention a great black wolf with many eyes, prowling the margins. ]

[fightingale]

( Leliana sweeps in quickly.

She has been reviewing Varric's story, the honeyed words and sharp wit celebrating the truth of the beloved Champion. Daisy he called Merrill, and for her own part, Leliana takes no issue with the woman. She seemed gentle and made up of good intentions and hopefulness. It was painful, in a way. Merrill reminded her of so much that she no longer allowed herself, of a passion for freedom. She was an elven mages, subject to so much suspicion and discrimination, and yet she was still the daisy, still appealed over the crystals for people to get along and talked about the beauty in stones and planned to make sculptures out of snow in a land torn apart by red Templars and desperate hunger.

That she hums and sits upon the table hardly seems out of place with the picture Varric painted of her. And yet, Varric had not left all things covered in gloss. Not all tarnishes could be covered over so easily, and especially not when her apparent naivete led her to conceal that Anders had entrenched himself amongst their ranks. If any could be manipulated to the foulness of his cause and convinced there were good in it, Merrill seemed a likely candidate.

So long as Merrill stays seated on the table, Leliana will stand, and she makes no comment to indicate Merrill should move. Not yet; not so easily as that. )

Can I anticipate illustrations to answer all my questions?

( Quiet - a false friendliness, though she is very good at making it appear sincere. )

3

[fleurdesel]

[ This is very much the last place Adelaide wishes to be upon her return to Skyhold- but as she has been summoned, as she has some vague idea as to what this might be for? She relents. Sits in the too cold room, peers up at the spider above and tries not to think of anything else she could be doing that is productive. Research, healing, lessons, reworking ideas to raise funds for the Mage Council's research instead of using her own coin.

Given that it will likely be some time yet, Adelaide falls into her usual habit when left to her own devices. Focus drills. Intricate figurines spun in ice form, melt, and reform in her palm, eyes half closed and gaze distant. A raven, a spider, a rose, a lion, Skyhold itself- forming and melting until she is joined, finally, by the spymistress.

She says nothing. What is there for her to say? ]

[fightingale]

I do not believe we have been officially introduced.

( Leliana holds herself upright, as though she were a blade more than a person. Sharp, poised, ever ready for the drawing of blood. It is dramatic, yes, but Leliana has always had something of a flair for the dramatic. It made her an excellent bard, and it has made her an outstanding spymaster. Even when she sits there is a rigidity in her, one that suggests strength rather than than slowness, a constant awareness.

Her voice is quiet, and she does not sit immediately, standing behind her chair as she watches Adelaide carefully, sharply. The reaction, if nothing else, could be telling. )

You were at the White Spire, I have heard. Can you tell me about that?

( Her own presence, the traces of her influence and her efforts to aid Wynne, those are memories harshly pressed down, for now. )

[apostasia]

The Pandions have a reputation for torture.

Martel thinks about this, amused in a distant, tired way, while he settles forward, his weight on his arms against his thighs, bracing himself to keep the chair if not straight then still enough. Now, of course, they had started most of the rumours themselves, and it had been a clever thing - the information that might be given to them barely prompted by someone afraid of what they might do to get it. There is an art and an artifice to information gathering. In his own later years, he'd rather neglected the finer points of it, impatient and cruel, but he can appreciate the work done.

It puts him in mind of Vanion. Which, naturally, instills a healthy wariness that is not unrelated to the fact that he'd really feel a lot better if he knew what this was about.

Vanion didn't hesitate when artifice wasn't enough.

"My lady," mild, by way of greeting, a respectful tilt of his head.

[fightingale]

Her only response is a nod before she sits, hands steepled and fingertips pressed together as she watches him. He is not so closely tied to Anders as many, and he is a rifter, which rules out obvious long term associations. He is even known as one to advocate the rights of elf and mage alike, which on most days would have her delighted to make his acquaintance, if only there were more time in the day. Her scouts have whispered of scars on his chest, but she knows what it is to be scarred and to be marked, and for all her struggles with her faith, if the Maker decided it was not someone's time to die, they would yet live. She has heard of stranger things.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting." She does not sound especially apologetic, in fact, but that is neither here nor there.

"I had hoped we might become acquainted." The age old art of friendship via interrogation - a classic.

3 (& mid-Drakonis after Warden things)

[byblow]

[ The worst part of this is that there isn't any paper. If the chair wobbled he could find a rhythm or make a game of trying to balance it. If the table were sticky he might entertain himself pressing his hand to it and peeling it away slowly, so see how far the webbing might stretch his skin before losing its hold. And paper he would, of course, cover in stick figures. He could have kept himself from going mad that way for an hour at least. But instead, he's bored. Bored and hot and alone with the Old Gods. Those are really the worst things anyone could ever do to him. Whatever jabs about passivity anyone wants to make or not make, he's a man of action, and reasonably clever and endlessly curious, and he's never been well-suited to staying still, quiet, and obedient.

He considers screaming, for old time's sake, but he isn't a boy anymore. He considers leaving—they can't hold him—but he's sure, by now, that this is about Anders and that he's already in some small amount of trouble with Leliana, so he manages to talk himself down from making it worse. He moves his chair from one side of the table to the other for no particular reason, straightens both table and chair so they're perfectly centered with the room, does a few push-ups before the added warmth of exertion becomes too annoying, and winds up lying on his back on the floor, staring up at the ivy.

When the door opens, he pushes up to rest on his elbows to look. He doesn't say anything, but he does smile. Like they're friends. They are. It's a little sheepish, but not ashamed. Not irritated, yet, either, despite how miserable he's been for the last hour and a half. The scout who follows behind her gets a wider smile, but a sharper one, the sort he turns on strangers he could make fun of as easily as be kind to: ] Good job, [ he says, when the second chair is placed.

He doesn't get off the floor. ]

[fightingale]

( She does not smile. She does not look at him, in fact. The woman walking in is not Leliana, is not some soft girl who would share playful gossip with him or mutter about that vile woman with her camp away from camp. Here stands only the Nightingale, and the Nightingale is not interested in indulging him. (That is a lie; she is never only the Nightingale, she is never truly free of Leliana, but she can try desperately, and she is not entirely sure she can get through this gracefully if there is any chance he can see how badly he has hurt her, if he truly realises what it is he has done.)

If Alistair is content to be on the floor, then his chair will be taken. It is small, undoubtedly petty, but she is not entirely sure this will last long regardless, or that she will want to stay seated, herself. When her own is set down, Leliana takes her place in it, ignoring him and gesturing for her scout to take his chair, short of some intervention.

She sits, and she waits. )

Wildcard

[nofury]

Unsurprisingly, she found the Left Hand in the Rookery. Given that Maria had been dabbling at spending time in the library since her return from the Emprise du Lion, it wasn't much of a walk. Maria waited patiently as Leliana finished whatever task she'd been engaged in when she arrived, not stepping all the way forward until invited.

[fightingale]

Leliana moves from the Rookery less and less. Her interrogations and meetings of the Advisers are the only real reason she has to depart. Sleep is taken in smaller and smaller doses, meals are brought to the Rookery and are a chore she forces herself through to keep her mind sharp and her body strong. To leave them untouched would be an insult to those without food, and it would be stupid, but there are times when it all seems set to stick and catch in her throat.

She stands over papers on her desk, speaking in quiet murmurs with a scout, and glances up to catch Maria's gaze before handing the scout a three letters and sending them running.

"Maria," she starts, and there is a lingering severity in her voice from this entire day - this month, this campaign, everything accumulating - that is not intended for the templar, but rings out in her tone all the same. "I can imagine why you're here."

The announcement about Anders has only recently gone up, but she cannot imagine it will be long before there are others who would speak with her.

four (mid-drakonis)

[wontforgetyou]

He's not all that surprised when they take his dirk. It only makes sense to do something like that in a situation like this, and he surrenders his without a complaint. Having him wait makes sense as well, although he's a little confused by the quill and parchment. Is that for later, to take notes, or is he supposed to be doing something with it?

It's a question that actually keeps his mind occupied for the first little while that he's alone, but as the minutes stretch on he becomes aware that he's still waiting...and waiting...and waiting. He's never been good with that, and the more time that stretches by, the more it shows.

After the first few minutes, he winds up getting up and pacing around the room. When he realizes that there isn't anyone coming, he winds up sitting down again, turning his attention to the quill and parchment. By the time the door opens Jamie has gotten bored enough that there's now a small house sitting on the desk made out of folded pieces of parchment. The pages are still blank, however, and the reason for that might have to do with Jamie himself - who is currently leaning back in his chair, trying to balance the quill on his nose. At the sound, he turns, sending the quill rolling off his nose and bouncing across the floor.

"Oh! S-sorry, let me go get that."

[fightingale]

The quill lands by Leliana's foot, and she makes no move to bend to retrieve it. Nor does she excuse Jamie's scramble, or say there is no need, but at least she does not step on it, or make his movements any more difficult. She has heard of him, of course. A rifter she has meant to get in contact with before. One of the first to close a rift, inclined to certain oddities of phrase, a sharp fighter. On another day she might have offered him a quiet thanks for offering assistance to the Wardens, when their cause was so close to her heart, and Alistair as well.

Others days, past days. Days prior to this being necessary.

She waits for him to retrieve the quill, watching him with a cool curiosity, as though he were a mouse and she a cat still debating whether or not to move, or if she is content to stretch and sprawl.

Eventually, while she still stands and waits for him to return to his seat, she speaks. "How was your journey?"

Wildcard

[gatheringstorm]

Well, so much for sleep. After the announcement about Anders, a deeply furious Korrin is in the courtyard. There's just enough light to see by thanks to a lantern, as she beats the hell out of a training dummy with her staff. Her spirit blade would be a far more effective weapon, but that's why she doesn't use it. She needs something to take out her temper on, something that will last more than one or two swings. Hence, this. She doesn't notice if anyone approaches, too busy pretending that training dummy is Anders.

[fightingale]

Leliana has little interest in speaking. Starting conversations is not on her agenda - for once she finds herself quite finished with words and their applications. There are none adequate, she finds.

Still, she stops a moment to watch as the Qunari beats the dummy hard. Korrin is her name, she thinks, close to one of her young bards-to-be. At least in all this she feels less guilt over taking on her two students - they will need these tricks to survive, and she might need them. Beleth, though, is very loyal to Zevran. That make require some consideration, some interrogation in and of itself.

She is entangled in these thoughts when one of the dummy's arms comes loose with Korrin's ire, the motion of her staff flicking it towards Leliana, who catches it reflexively, raising her brows at it. "Well."

[kallian_endris]

Kallian comes to the summoning meekly, being the young elf that Detlef seemed to dote on so much. She has no weapon to begin with, except for her magic, kept carefully secret.

The room is cold. Colder than usual, even for the snowy mountains of around Skyhold. Kallian shivers a little bit, having not thought to need her cloak. Still, she waits, quietly, patiently, lost in private daydreams.

But when Leliana enters, her expression turns to one of recognition and awe.
"You... you were one of the companions of the Hero, weren't you?"

[fightingale]

She is not sure if the recognition tries her first as a potential tool, or a source of irritation.

"My name is Leliana," she states, simply. "Though there are a good many here who simply call me 'Nightingale.'"

A moment of consideration, eyeing the girl before her. "Do you know why you're here?"

1 + 4

[easternseaqueen]

Isabela knew she was going to be on the list. Anders had even warned her that people would probably want to talk to her, since it wasn't exactly secret they were longtime friends.

So, Leliana was going to make her wait. Whatever. Isabela wasn't going to apologize for her part. What was done was done, and the vast majority of it was Anders' own doing, not hers.

Her chair was uneven, and Isabela kept rocking it back and forth, making it bang on the stone floor. Thok. Thok. Thok. But, there was also spare parchment and quills and ink, and Isabela definitely took advantage of that with the start of a new bit of friend fiction.

[fightingale]

"I have to wonder," Leliana starts as she enters the door, because playing games with Isabela seems a pointless venture, "why you chose to hide Anders' presence here. You are old friends, that I understand, but why conceal hid identity, rather than smuggling him away?"

Did Isabela think Leliana stupid? It seemed it must be so.

"I cannot think that it is because you do not believe the Inquisition is worth supporting, or that you would be glad to see its integrity compromised by his presence. You are here, and after all, and if it was not worth your time and effort, why would you bother?"

what hiatus

[colecomfort]

[One of her scouts just reported to tell her the next interviewee is waiting in the interrogation room. Which is odd, since she hadn't sent for anyone new at this time. If questioned about it, the scout will begin to falter, grasping vaguely to describe anything at all about the person. This alone may be enough for Leliana to guess at his identity.

He'll be there when she arrives. Sitting cross-legged, not on the chair, but on the table. A spider — a small, mundane spider — is skittering across the fingers of one of his hands. Cole turns his hand over, then over again, to accommodate it.]

Returned to his place among the Grey. No longer hidden, but unhurt. That's good.

hiatuses are lame! but also :3c

[fightingale]

( There are only so many people it could be, so many people who would arrive and disorient so effectively. When Leliana sighs she is too weary and too tense to be truly amused, and it comes out more bitter than is warranted. With her likely company in mind, Leliana lets Schmooples trot alongside her to the interrogation room, squeaking as he scuttles.

Entering the room, Leliana just stands for long moment, finally closing the door behind her once Cole has spoken. )

It is good to see you, Cole.

( Liberal minded though she is (and she has always been deemed a radical in the Chantry, even from her days in Lothering), it is still gently unsettling for a Spymaster to be faced with one so elusive, but she likes Cole. He is all heart, she thinks. She knows how painful compassion can be. She knows how hard it is to fight that within herself. Leliana allows herself a long moment of consideration, remaining standing but wandering around to face him. )

But when his life causes such pain in others, that is another wrong done.

( And she is not so sure that leaving him his life was mercy. Part of it was a grim determination not to see him a martyr, not to give him any basis for comparison to Justinia or Andraste, for all that she sympathises with his cause and would champion it herself. )

1 + 2

[el_tybs]

[Sam is not quite sure as to why he had been called on, his mind racing to figure out if he had done anything that would landed him in the room. Nothing comes to mind expect maybe... finishing his training and gaining a spirit, but that was under the Mage Council's jurisdiction wasn't it?

The stickiness on the chair doesn't help with his nervousness, his nose wrinkling as it reminds him too much of the demon spiders back at Suledin Keep. That and it made him stick to the chair whenever he tried to shift around and get comfortable, which didn't seem to be happening since it was uneven, regardless of moving it a few inches here and there - and making his hands stick to the chair at those times.

At least he has Fortitude to communicate with, and eventually just using the wobbling of the chair as a way to fidget.]

[fightingale]

( The webbing was a nice touch. It seemed to leave people particularly unsettled, and Morrigan would be assured of her thanks for her assistance, when all was done. She lets him wait a long while, going through her notes and her information, before entering the room abruptly. )

As a Spirit Healer, ( She starts, with little introduction, ) What are your feelings on possession?

( Hi, nice to meet you, she's having a bad decade, etc. )