faderift | closed/open || i'm in the business of living

"I have a few lines of inquiry," Tiffany says in answer to the question that's just been asked.

This is after the introductions have been made and the pleasantries have been said and the tea has been poured. It's a chilly day outside, and the slate sky seems to press against the glass of the window. But the fire has been built up, and there is a carpet on the floor and hangings on the walls and--if they weren't in an office in the Gallows--one might be tempted to call the room cozy.

Tiffany's posture has always been good, partly breeding, partly trained into her by drills. She sits straight in the chair in the Scoutmaster's office, her legs folded neatly and her hands folded on her knees. She isn't wearing her armor, of course--dressed simply, in soft brown breeches and a wine-red tunic that tellingly bears the symbol of the Seekers--but she carries something of her armor with her even when she isn't wearing it.

Her small smile, meanwhile, is both pleasant and unguarded. "To be plain, I was sent here to investigate the mage who transformed into an abomination last year, and was killed. His connection to Riftwatch, what has been learned of him through whatever internal investigation was conducted--with an intention to find out how his transformation and death came to be. I have also been asked, more recently and in an internal capacity, to look into your Head of Diplomacy. Whichever you'd prefer to begin with, please."

In the chair opposite, Yseult sits with similarly tidy posture, ankles crossed beneath the smooth fall of navy skirt and a saucer settled on her knee. The finger that rests beneath its edge is more for show than need of security. She matches the pleasant smile.

"We've uncovered little more about the mage than what you've no doubt heard already, but I would be happy to share the few relevant records. By whom were you asked to look into Ambassador Rutyer?"

"I'd appreciate whatever you have. I have a hard time believing in things unless they're written down. That's why I spent so many hours in childhood memorizing the Chant. Well, and because it was required of me."

It's mostly a joke, the quiet and not uproariously funny sort that you make while taking tea with a leader of an organization. Usually best when in the company of someone who takes the Chant seriously-but-not-too-seriously. Tiffany tucks her hair behind one ear.

"As to the second investigation--someone called Flint. I understand that to be the surname of the leader of the Forces Division here as well, but thought it might be coincidence. Where I'm from, there are fifteen families known as Miller."

Yseult smiles for the joke, in the polite-but-not-insincere way that small jokes over tea with new colleagues merit. And as Tiffany goes on, her expression shifts into one of mild surprise, though that too is interrupted briefly by a quick smile for the fifteen Millers. She takes a sip of tea, then settles it back in the saucer and shoots the cuffs of her dove grey blouse before re-folding hands her lap.

"I'm not aware of any other Flint in the organization. What was it about the Ambassador that he asked you to investigate?"

"It comes down to," and Tiffany pauses a moment, in order to select the right word, which brings her to, "bullying," and she winces a little at that eventual choice and makes a gesture of deferral.

"I realize that sounds childish, but I can't think of a better way to describe the sense that I got. Intimidation, or an extended period of hazing? There was a great deal of trepidation, I certainly got that sense."

Yseult doesn't laugh. That would be rude. But she does take a moment to let that sink in, and also to rewind and make absolutely certain she got the right names in the right order the first time through. Then her head tips, angled forward like they're sharing a secret and she smiles, a little crooked, eyes narrowed.

"I'm afraid, Lady Seeker, that you've been made the victim of a joke." Apologetic, but not too much. Not a big deal, all in good fun. "When you meet Commander Flint, you'll see he could not have made that request. Am I correct that this conversation occurred over the crystals? They're very useful, but do allow for a certain amount of mischief."

When it comes to controlling emotions, Tiffany isn't quite as good as Yseult. She is poised, practiced, has learned composure from childhood, but still: when she gets this news, the fact that her stomach does that drop of shame does manage to telegraph on her face. The faint blush that comes to her cheeks lingers longer than she would like it to.

"It did occur over the crystals, yes. You're--" Well. She sighs, and leans back in her chair a little. "I want to ask if you're quite sure, but I can't imagine you'd be having me on. I did say that I did not want to be hazed. I imagine that was taken as a bit of a challenge."

"I'm quite sure." Yseult's smile sticks, just scrunching slightly in sympathy. "Don't worry, I won't tell. But you may want to think back over anything else you were told on arrival, to be safe. More tea?"

She offers the pot, simple but pretty blue-grey stoneware, and pours if desired. "Am I correct in thinking you're from Ferelden originally?"

"Thank you, yes--" Tiffany holds her cup out gratefully, steady of hand as Yseult pours out. "And it's very kind of you to keep my secret. I am Fereldan, yes--my family's holdings are in the Ruswold. I was taken for training when I was quite young but I was allowed home often enough that I kept the accent. And the traditions. And," her mouth twists in a wry little smile, "perhaps more of the backwards country rube sensibilities than I'd like to think. I should be more discerning in who and what I take to heart."

Her wry smile is met with a brighter flare of one from Yseult and a shake of her head. "Don't be too hard on yourself. There's no shame in having given them the benefit of the doubt. Hopefully they'll prove more worthy of it in the future."

She nudges the tray with cream and sugar nearer, and tops up her own cup before sitting back again. "Is investigating the abomination the sole purpose of your visit?"

"I hope so too. And thank you," as she leans forward to take the cream, "not just for the tea, of course, but for your kindness. As to my purpose here, I'll confess, the investigation is the start of things for me, but not the end. The Seekers of Truth have an interest in the important work that Riftwatch is doing, and have asked for me to join as a liaison and contact. It's far too open to be actual spying on their behalf. Everything will be above the board and in the open. That's my preferred way to work, anyways. Of course you know our history with the Inquisition--or rather, the Inquisition's history with us. The hope is that my presence here will be the start of a similar relationship."

She nods toward the door as she lifts her cup to her lips. "And I brought a donation with me. Small, but hopefully helpful to Riftwatch's cause. Our cause."

closed/open || i'm in the business of living

closed to Yseult

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yseult taking time to make sure she gets the right names in the right order, unlike me

you're an inspiration

gosh

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