[closed]

[doneisdone]

WHO: Teren, Anders, Alistair, any other Wardens who want to be in the office
WHAT: everyone is extremely mean and cruel to their loving mother for no reason
WHEN: before Building Bridges
WHERE: Warden office
NOTES: all in reference to this catastrophe

The assignment has been given, preparations are being made, and Teren is in the Warden office slogging her way through some final arrangements and paperwork (she's a slow reader and writer, it's no secret) before she and the others depart for the Deep Roads.
Her feet crossed on the desk, she's reading over the briefing one last time as she takes the occasional swig from her favorite flask, seeming to be in somewhat neutral spirits since accepting her own leadership despite Alistair's return.
Inessa is, of course, in charge of making sure nobody dies in her and Barty's absence.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

He sits up, bending himself about as much as he possibly can be bent, to take the package and look it over.

"His forbearance and moral uprightness, of course. But did you take me into account? Everyone knows I have no forbearance or moral uprightness. I'm Anders. Rule-breaking," a short beat, "rule-breakings, might as well be my middle name."

[gentlecountry]

"And a very finelys-tuned sense of fairness," Barty notes, blandly, because the stakes are literally pudding and that's a very relaxing level of direness, "Such as that might lets a man achieve his inevitable victory pudding on his own terms, free and clear. That's what I appreciates about you, Anders."

[doneisdone]

The continuing chatter is not helping with Teren's focus, and she seems to bury herself further behind the missive. This is hell. She is in hell.

[justice_is_blond]

"Oh, really," he says lightly. "Is that what you appreciate about me? Something you don't even know if I have or not?"

This is fun. He is in funtown.

[byblow]

Actual Wardens work, the man says, and enemies unto the death becomes enemies unto the end of the afterlife, if ever there is such a thing, but Alistair fairly well ignores him in favor of (a) the report he's reading and (b) folding that report into something akin to a paper arrow to toss toward Teren. It lands gently on her desk.

"You'll want to read that one," he says, "boss."

[gentlecountry]

"You haves it," Barty says, completely unbothered, and with total confidence, "Just as Alistair here has that, and Miss Teren's got an ironclad patience givens how we're all chattering up her nice quiets office hour and we aint' nones of us suffered worse than a threat. Can'ts get this kinds of patience in Antiva, don't mind tellings you so. You get poisons in your tea if you try."

[doneisdone]

The muscles around her mouth twitching into something like a sneer, Teren levels Alistair with a death glare and swipes up the new paper with her fingers like talons. She unfolds it, and now disappears behind that one. Sometimes, it's best to just not give them what they want: which is to say, attention.