OPEN | coldest comfort, safety glass

[limier]

WHO: Wren, Anders, Gwen, and OTA.
WHAT: Arrivals at Skyhold & Junk.
WHEN: Post-Winter Palace. Catchall.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: I'll edit if anything comes up!

Starters in comments. If you'd like a specific starter, or to make plans for later in the month, just let me know on plurk or Discord (oeste #8807).  :)

Comments

[limier]

She nods, good. The easier this can be, the better.

"Doubt is its own form of cruelty." It is with Bergier, with Gervais; with all those little lost apprentices, swallowed by a ghost. "We needn't give much detail. The — standard notices might be modified. They will remember the Order more kindly that we granted their blood humanity in death."

His face tenses, and she resists the urge to lift an eyebrow. Norrington’s bloody reputation grapples thus far with a sentimental streak. What’s stirring the waters?

"I would not be loathe to hear of it. The sooner that connections might be drawn, the better."

If she’s right about Bergier's brother, then Reed’s right about what a leak could mean. Quick confirmation will be key.

[judgemewhole]

He sighs, pressing his gloved hands together, as if he is praying right there for guidance from the Maker himself. Considering his expression, he might be. After a moment, he speaks tightly, "We have an ... individual in the dungeons. He would be able to identify the men more easily than any of us."

He gives her a grim look, "However, I am not sure how far his word could be trusted. He is not precisely the trustworthy sort."

[limier]

So I shouldn't buy that bridge in the Mire he's selling?

"An individual," A conscious gentility to the words, prodding. Out with it. "Might tell us much through the omission of fact."

Maferath’s balls, what’s pushed the boy so far? Venatori, or a captured officer — they seem the only likely possibilities. Perhaps they’ve taken a captain off one of the mines. If Reed is any indication, the Inquisition would not preserve the rank and file.

[judgemewhole]

She must not, certainly. It's probably tainted with red lyrium and ancient darkspawn.

He pressed his lips together once more, his teeth grinding together before he stated, "He might do it for his men. A commander would want to see that his people got the proper return to their families."

He gave her a meaningful look, "And he does know all of his men, Ser Coupe." Every last one of them, if James was to take a guess. Samson seemed to be that kind of leader, damn him to the Black City.

[limier]

Oh, fuck.

Her eyes press shut, arms shifting out at a hard angle to — well, she reigns it in, plants them on her hips instead. If her hands grind the plate, at least they're not balled into fists.

She’ll grant herself a moment to recenter, before looking up again.

"How long has he been in Inquisition custody?" Slowly. If she chooses the words carefully enough, perhaps she can avoid losing her temper aloud. It’s not as though Norrington has a damn thing to do with it. She likes this sort of surprise as little as he must like keeping his greasy red mirror in the cells. "The men taken during his capture, what was done with their remains?"

Wren can't think that Samson was unguarded. If Norrington's judgment rings true, he may want to know what became of his soldiers. The disposal of the dead is permissible intelligence, where the fates of the living cannot be revealed.