WHO: Kostos/Alistair/Jehan/Silas & Various Others WHAT: Miscellany WHEN: Kingsway WHERE: Probably Kirkwall NOTES: See comment subject lines! And if you would like to do something feel free to just drop it in here.
For what it's worth, Kostos doesn't begin to tense up any sooner than anyone else would—anyone else with standard Thedosian standards for personal space, or perhaps even slightly lower standards—but that is still, definitely, too close, though he's loathe to cede ground to anyone at any time, and when his shoulders can't bunch any tighter without it becoming an issue, he steps smoothly away.
"We do not know," he says, distracted by looking over his handiwork with the body. "Catching—whatever is wrong with the spirit from the Necropolis, I mean. We have not measured whether it will spread to other spirits on its own, with proximity or contact."
He's a little sorry that he has so many questions, but at least he's not apparently chasing Kostos around the table. The answers have brought another question to mind, though.
"Are there other things that you've seen spirits catch? That's contagious to them?" A second later there's a wave of his hand. "Disregarding the blood sharks, of course."
Though that does make him wonder if he would have had issues if he'd still been possessed. But as he's fairly certain no one in the Inquisition is currently possessed it can be a question tabled.
There is no pursuit; when Kostos retreats, the Priest does not follow. The object of interest is the dog and the Priest only looks up from it once there are no more details worth studying.
"Your spirits may fall ill." It is not quite a question. "Explain these 'blood sharks'."
It should not be a surprise to hear this world has spirit-sickness and pneumavores as well--but a strange disappointment twinges in the Priest's breast even so. Surely a promised world should not share the horrors of a dying one. Had they not earned better?
Kostos absorbs the questions with the same silence and sinking feeling that he would absorb bad news. This is worse than teaching apprentices. At least most of them were afraid of him.
In case there's any hope for instilling similar fear in these two, he doesn't answer, only lifts his gaze from the dog to give them the same sort of look he'd fix on a misbehaving thirteen year old.
He returns Kostos' look. "Unanswered questions make more, you know. I'll answer one, you answer the other?"
Not like he can actually answer his own. Maybe helping the woman with her questions will get Kostos to help him with his, though.
"I'm Anders, by the way. I don't believe we've met, madam. And the bloodsharks... We'd a Rifter come in, already ill. There was something in his bloodstream that spread to other Rifters and the Templars. Since it was lyrium-based, I'd theorize that it could spread to any spirits. Or any harboring spirits."
A quelling look is a quelling look the worlds over. Kostos' expression invokes neither fear nor submission from the Priest but a polite inclination of the chin. This is his ritual and the Priest does not yet know the rules. Information might be sought later--
Though here is this "Anders" giving it anyway. Nuances of expression in Trade are opaque still to the Priest--who is yet certain madam is a category error as a form of address.
No matter. "You will relate the rest of this after." Matter-of-fact.
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no subject
"We do not know," he says, distracted by looking over his handiwork with the body. "Catching—whatever is wrong with the spirit from the Necropolis, I mean. We have not measured whether it will spread to other spirits on its own, with proximity or contact."
no subject
"Are there other things that you've seen spirits catch? That's contagious to them?" A second later there's a wave of his hand. "Disregarding the blood sharks, of course."
Though that does make him wonder if he would have had issues if he'd still been possessed. But as he's fairly certain no one in the Inquisition is currently possessed it can be a question tabled.
no subject
"Your spirits may fall ill." It is not quite a question. "Explain these 'blood sharks'."
It should not be a surprise to hear this world has spirit-sickness and pneumavores as well--but a strange disappointment twinges in the Priest's breast even so. Surely a promised world should not share the horrors of a dying one. Had they not earned better?
no subject
In case there's any hope for instilling similar fear in these two, he doesn't answer, only lifts his gaze from the dog to give them the same sort of look he'd fix on a misbehaving thirteen year old.
no subject
Not like he can actually answer his own. Maybe helping the woman with her questions will get Kostos to help him with his, though.
"I'm Anders, by the way. I don't believe we've met, madam. And the bloodsharks... We'd a Rifter come in, already ill. There was something in his bloodstream that spread to other Rifters and the Templars. Since it was lyrium-based, I'd theorize that it could spread to any spirits. Or any harboring spirits."
no subject
Though here is this "Anders" giving it anyway. Nuances of expression in Trade are opaque still to the Priest--who is yet certain madam is a category error as a form of address.
No matter. "You will relate the rest of this after." Matter-of-fact.