Or, counterpoint: they'll go along to a point and then think ah, I can wear this and mount the face on the wall, splendid because Orlesians. Yes this is his main argument and a question he may or may not have on his form when he has to hire on hands for jobs why do you ask?
"He's a boy!" That's a little scandalised, as if Derrica's suggested using him as bait but Matthias cut his hand and Tavin tried to teach him about retirement plans. "We can't bring a boy, I mean he's not a squire, he'd sink in the armour to start."
Mages, generally, get on better than most but there's something about the idea of a fresh face being invited along on this sort of thing that has Tavin pausing, absently scratching behind his ear where the lizard usually hitches a ride. (Sensibly back in Kirkwall, safe and warm. Or warmer.) Maybe it's just what tends to happen with the wilds, small numbers and expeditions with lesser-known things that has him more than a little guilty at the idea of a boy with a life joining them.
As if he was any better when he was that age but that's not the point.
"Depends on the sort of deterrent; sometimes they can make people all the more determined in the end and I don't know this terrain in particular as well but," he sighs. "If we say anything too terrible, they'll kill it. If we say it's not dangerous someone might kill it or try to and get hurt and that's a bad look for Riftwatch via us. We could say that rich people would love to come to see it, I don't know much about the promise of future wealth..." He trails off awkwardly, the way someone does when they've never had to worry about money because it's always there. Somewhere. At the end of a letter in the worst sort of case.
no subject
"He's a boy!" That's a little scandalised, as if Derrica's suggested using him as bait but Matthias cut his hand and Tavin tried to teach him about retirement plans. "We can't bring a boy, I mean he's not a squire, he'd sink in the armour to start."
Mages, generally, get on better than most but there's something about the idea of a fresh face being invited along on this sort of thing that has Tavin pausing, absently scratching behind his ear where the lizard usually hitches a ride. (Sensibly back in Kirkwall, safe and warm. Or warmer.) Maybe it's just what tends to happen with the wilds, small numbers and expeditions with lesser-known things that has him more than a little guilty at the idea of a boy with a life joining them.
As if he was any better when he was that age but that's not the point.
"Depends on the sort of deterrent; sometimes they can make people all the more determined in the end and I don't know this terrain in particular as well but," he sighs. "If we say anything too terrible, they'll kill it. If we say it's not dangerous someone might kill it or try to and get hurt and that's a bad look for Riftwatch via us. We could say that rich people would love to come to see it, I don't know much about the promise of future wealth..." He trails off awkwardly, the way someone does when they've never had to worry about money because it's always there. Somewhere. At the end of a letter in the worst sort of case.