As fond as Gwenaëlle is of her cousin - as she was often encouraged to continue to view him, after Mirielle's untimely death - they haven't spent so much time together since her arrival in Skyhold. Perfectly naturally, she thinks; he has responsibilities, while she finds her own ways to fill time, and they've not exactly been what she'd describe as close. Before Skyhold, she didn't so much write to him as occasionally Emeric would mention her in passing, or pass on some observation she'd made; she was pleased to see him, but has not, by and large, felt compelled to seek him out with any frequency. Satisfactory to know that he is there to be called upon, if need be, and to voice her support of him whenever it seems useful to do so -
However, he is not the only person receiving letters from his mother, and she can't fob the woman off indefinitely. Or at least not without information and incentive, at any rate, since she's been hearing things about where Aleron spends his time and with who.
"Favourite cousin," by way of outrageously exaggerated greeting (or possibly not; she's no first cousins, but any number of extended relatives she has even less interest in), "what will you give me not to toss you to your mother's painted wolves?"
She leans against the gates by the stable, smiling, untrustworthy but delightfully fond. It isn't as if she doesn't sympathise with his avoidance; her own is starting to become mythic. She strongly suspects there will be rumors before long that she acquired her anchor-shard on purpose in the very hope that her father would do as he's done and give her a reprieve from the parade of prospective suitors.
no subject
However, he is not the only person receiving letters from his mother, and she can't fob the woman off indefinitely. Or at least not without information and incentive, at any rate, since she's been hearing things about where Aleron spends his time and with who.
"Favourite cousin," by way of outrageously exaggerated greeting (or possibly not; she's no first cousins, but any number of extended relatives she has even less interest in), "what will you give me not to toss you to your mother's painted wolves?"
She leans against the gates by the stable, smiling, untrustworthy but delightfully fond. It isn't as if she doesn't sympathise with his avoidance; her own is starting to become mythic. She strongly suspects there will be rumors before long that she acquired her anchor-shard on purpose in the very hope that her father would do as he's done and give her a reprieve from the parade of prospective suitors.