i’ve been waiting on the fault line | OTA

[limier]

WHO: Wren Coupe, Melys, Casimir Lyov, Finch Wicker + YOU
WHAT: Catchall for the month
WHEN: Mid- whatever this month is i give up
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Will edit as appropriate

 

Editing these in as I go, if you’d like a specific starter please hmu on plurk or discord (oeste#8807). ♥

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[aestivation]

Of course, [It carries the stilted distance of something copied rote. He pushes a castle to check before glancing up — straightening his posture to unhurried attention.] Lady Vauquelin?

[ There are only so many Orlesians about the Gallows; fewer, who have sounded quite so agitated upon the crystals. It's not a relief, per se, that she isn't now.

But it certainly makes this easier; faking a smile can be foregone. ]

[elegiaque]

Yes.

I understand that you work closely beneath our research division head.

( Not agitated, but—distracted, maybe, or something harder to pin down. She's comfortable enough meeting his gaze when he does look up, but her fingers tap restlessly until she flattens her hands, deliberate and precise, and her jaw works for a moment before she says anything else.

It's a courtesy to be so careful, as well as probably sensible under the circumstances of this possibly not being very sensible, but it doesn't come particularly naturally to her. In that, there's a short, sharp stab of envy for him that's better left unexamined. )

[aestivation]

Messere Thranduil, yes. [ a strange title set against the name, he's listened enough to news from the city to know. but if there's anything more appropriate, he hasn't divined it, and it seems altogether unlikely the point of this. he watches her hands with distant attention, drawn for the motion. ] Did you wish to speak with him?

[ that's unlikely, too. she's a crystal, same as any of them, if for all that he's not certain he's heard the two of them speak together — ]

[elegiaque]

( No, she thinks, he will tell her again that she's overreacting to nothing and it's just—

Gwenaëlle presses her lips together on any and all of that, on the hundred and seven (roughly) different things that her face wants to do. Nevermind any of it, she came here to purpose. )

I don't know if you're aware that people have been behaving strangely recently. Moreso, ( dryly, ) than usual. Messere Thranduil ( SURE ) is of the opinion that he's immune to everything and has an answer for everything else, which is not an opinion I personally share.

( Men are men are fucking men, no matter their species. Time and again this truism rears its irritating, egotistical head. )

I'd simply like to ask that if you observe any erratic behaviour—unusual for him, suggestive of ill-health or...poor judgment. If you observe that, I'd like you to report it to the healers.

[aestivation]

Unnatural,

[ He repeats, leans back to fold hands into the imitation of focus (rather, its previous absence).

He's aware. The Gallows brim with new energy, an unquiet breed, and Thranduil no more immune than many. The sweep of his stride hastens, his attention flags, and it's all unusual — ]

To his typical manner, or that of these past few days? [ Is escalation the only cause for alarm? A thought, at last occurs. ] I will put aside any decisions for his later review.

[ the delay seems worth the cost. ]

Did you wish to be told as well?

[elegiaque]

To both, ( is what she begins with—a good question, one that she does pause over even if she's less hesitant in what she gives as an answer to it. Escalation is a troubling thought, particularly when it's almost certain; where is this leading?

What happens next? What does she think the healers are actually going to be able to do, once Casimir (almost inevitably) is obliged to report to them? She's nodding, absently, in agreement to the matter of Thranduil perhaps not making any urgent decisions for the division and

he's offering, he's not (yet) asking for justification of why. The only pause here is to reorder the words she would have used elsewhere; uncertain how much weight someone's gratitude is to a person who doesn't feel any of what drives behind that thing— )

I would like to be told, yes.

( 'For peace of mind', except that it's very unlikely to bring any. )

[aestivation]

[ privacy is a delayed consideration.

the loss of his own had been so — fresh, once. an intensity he can recall but not intuit; trust betrayed, a topple from his own overgrown expectations.

myrobalan had done the right thing, then, to speak. it seems again the right thing now. casimir's been given secrets enough to hold, but this doesn't qualify. it's nothing he's been warned from, nothing that others don't already see; he's only a convenient vantage point.

still, ]

Will he object to that?

[ to telling her. it isn't as though he's unaware that others lie. but guessing is a lost cause, and often enough, they just don't bother. ]

[elegiaque]

( She considers it—earnestly, weighing up how delighted she can't imagine him being that she's gone behind his back versus how sensible she still presumes he will find her, when he is in his right mind again as she is certain he is not currently—and finally, with some confidence, settles on: )

He will probably say I'm being cosseting and unreasonable and that he's perfectly well, but no. I don't think so.

[aestivation]

[ he nods, at something of a loss for how to proceed — ]

Thank you for coming to me. [ too practiced. but it buys a moment to find the words: ] If you require anything of research in the coming days, please inform me as well.

[ that can't be why they're speaking. he knows the personnel files, and knows her name absent from them. knows, too, the publications that still dot an occasional bookshelf. the other elf, the one that looks like thranduil, within. ]

If he's difficult to reach in other matters, I'll do what I'm able.

[ it doesn't occur to ask what those matters might be. not his business. ]

[elegiaque]

Just what you've agreed to do is plenty, ( firmly, politely, and rising—

there's no need to linger awkwardly (even if lingering awkwardly is a particular skill of hers), particularly when they're in absolute agreement about what is and is not his business. He'd be a poor choice of confidante for a lot of reasons, but not least of them is that she finds the idea of absolutely not caring sort of freeing, theoretically. It's hardly sporting to then drag him around and about other people's irrelevant and oftentimes inconvenient feelings.

Probably you can't even make someone who isn't a mage Tranquil. )

Thank you for your time.

( Gratitude may or may not carry weight, but she thinks consideration of his time seems—reasonable. Considerate? It isn't something that comes entirely naturally. )