WHO: Adrasteia, Erik, other folks. WHAT: It's an open log WHEN: Mid to late Guardian WHERE: Kirkwall, &c. NOTES: Erik curses. That's about it. Open starters in threads.
That's the thing with magic: Never stops being a bit — well — magical. Lyrium come whistling down the lungs. His fingers stretch — silent appreciation, the wonder of a thing done well.
"Maybe," Considers, "But she hasn't handed you a blanket."
Metaphorically. The Sister likes charity. More important,
"Not enough to do anything about it," Adrasteia admits, feeling a little foolish for even discussing it. She's blushing and frowning simultaneously. "She's bright and very sweet, but she doesn't belong tied up to a Warden. Besides she's not even from here."
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"Maybe," Considers, "But she hasn't handed you a blanket."
Metaphorically. The Sister likes charity. More important,
"You like her?"
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But whether or not it matters depends on each individual sister, definitely.
"I don't know. I don't... really do that." Get involved with people. Adrasteia glances at the Chantry Sister again and shakes her head.
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The kind without benefits.
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Adrasteia glances the sister's way again, who looks up and smiles.
"We could write." Adrasteia brightens a bit. "That would probably even be helpful to more than just me."