[ alexandrie is quiet, mostly. quiet and waiting for the burn of the liquor to mellow and wend its way into her head to dull the uncomfortable feeling of the world being a flat set dressing too cheap for even the stages of kirkwall. she rolls her head to rest on her shoulder in the hopes of encouraging the hum of the whiskey upwards. dryly: ]
Do we do anything on our own, truly?
[ she has always known herself to be an ornament. one of substantial and carefully curated quality, perhaps, but an ornament nevertheless. a lapel pin for one, a mask for another, perhaps now even something as active as a concealed blade, but for all her headstrong ways lexie has always felt the delicate strings trailing from her wrists, each of her movements an allowance rather than any true independence. But yet, ]
Have you found freedom here, of a sort? Even with the shard as shackle? I cannot imagine things going as well [ the arch of an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the changed value of "well" ] for you if you had remained in Orlais as they have gone here.
no subject
Do we do anything on our own, truly?
[ she has always known herself to be an ornament. one of substantial and carefully curated quality, perhaps, but an ornament nevertheless. a lapel pin for one, a mask for another, perhaps now even something as active as a concealed blade, but for all her headstrong ways lexie has always felt the delicate strings trailing from her wrists, each of her movements an allowance rather than any true independence. But yet, ]
Have you found freedom here, of a sort? Even with the shard as shackle? I cannot imagine things going as well [ the arch of an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the changed value of "well" ] for you if you had remained in Orlais as they have gone here.