Sarkan cannot possibly know how immediately and intensely he has won her over - she can barely comprehend it, herself, because it requires acknowledging certain things she has avoided looking full in the face. It requires the acknowledgment of one simple truth, which is that Petrana does not wish to go home, and every kind wish for her to do so has cut deeper each time she hears it. Each time she falls silent, drifts onto another subject, leaves that which she cannot answer unanswered and allowing the one who spoke it to assume what they will -
but he does not speak of returning. He speaks of nostalgia as pointless. He points to what they have now, which she has herself enthused over on more than one occasion. He says: neither of us are going back, brooking no argument and no sentiment on the matter, and she is grateful to him beyond her capacity to understand it, much less to express it.
Of course; she is a lady. She processes all of this quietly, as she takes in all that he says to her, head slightly tilted, features arranged thoughtfully. If she looks up, at the last point, that expression - perhaps tellingly - does not much change. She offers him a very small, measured smile. She says,
"You are quite right,"
and her heart feels lighter for it.
(Might they go back, one day? The rifts are complicated, unknown; she's heard tell of other rifters, who are gone, who left no trace and for whom explanations have not been found. But now she can say: this is, you see, what's in front of me, and it is no good imagining what isn't.)
"You must forgive my curiosity, all the same, to see so many different worlds touch upon this one, and the great variety of how these things are done..." And she is troubled by what Marius might do, in her absence, but that's a story to whisper to herself in the dark, not to a stranger in a library. "It is my husband's intention that king and first sorcerer be the same man. I suppose all I can do from here is wish him well of it."
She plays for a moment with her ring. The diamond upon it glitters, and she does not think even for a moment of its inscription.
"It is very different," after a moment, "that you speak of inclination, and in Thedas of demonstrating power - in Lamorre such things do not come without instruction. Magic is not something inborn to me, it is a talent that I learned much as I learned music, or to draw. And as some are gifted musicians, some are..." Delicately: "Not. I have been lucky to be a quick study. But I suppose it gives me a slightly different perspective. I have wondered if it would be possible to teach the magic that I have learned to one not adept in the Thedosian fashion, but I've not attempted."
no subject
but he does not speak of returning. He speaks of nostalgia as pointless. He points to what they have now, which she has herself enthused over on more than one occasion. He says: neither of us are going back, brooking no argument and no sentiment on the matter, and she is grateful to him beyond her capacity to understand it, much less to express it.
Of course; she is a lady. She processes all of this quietly, as she takes in all that he says to her, head slightly tilted, features arranged thoughtfully. If she looks up, at the last point, that expression - perhaps tellingly - does not much change. She offers him a very small, measured smile. She says,
"You are quite right,"
and her heart feels lighter for it.
(Might they go back, one day? The rifts are complicated, unknown; she's heard tell of other rifters, who are gone, who left no trace and for whom explanations have not been found. But now she can say: this is, you see, what's in front of me, and it is no good imagining what isn't.)
"You must forgive my curiosity, all the same, to see so many different worlds touch upon this one, and the great variety of how these things are done..." And she is troubled by what Marius might do, in her absence, but that's a story to whisper to herself in the dark, not to a stranger in a library. "It is my husband's intention that king and first sorcerer be the same man. I suppose all I can do from here is wish him well of it."
She plays for a moment with her ring. The diamond upon it glitters, and she does not think even for a moment of its inscription.
"It is very different," after a moment, "that you speak of inclination, and in Thedas of demonstrating power - in Lamorre such things do not come without instruction. Magic is not something inborn to me, it is a talent that I learned much as I learned music, or to draw. And as some are gifted musicians, some are..." Delicately: "Not. I have been lucky to be a quick study. But I suppose it gives me a slightly different perspective. I have wondered if it would be possible to teach the magic that I have learned to one not adept in the Thedosian fashion, but I've not attempted."