Ellie doesn't want to lie to him, but she doesn't want him to worry, either. She picks at her fingers, giving a shrug -- it's a gesture that's younger than the rest of her, her youth showing through in the cracks of her mannerisms.
"Gallows're kind of a small place after a while," she explains. "And I don't do so well with being walled in."
He can't relate, but she's probably aware of that. You don't work in space if you have problems with tight quarters or constant contact with other people. And from what he knows about her, he doesn't doubt that her answer has truth to it.
But he doesn't think that's what's causing her nervous habits in this moment, either.
So he's quiet for a moment, as they walk.
"You can always tell me," he says, "if you need an excuse to get some air like this." As Wysteria had pointed out recently, he does gravitate to work that's sometimes closer to Forces than Research. It's only after that, that he adds, "Or if you want someone to talk to."
Ellie lets her breath out in a deep sigh as they walk, knowing he's got her pinned down. Pissed off about it, because he's right, and because he'll let her get away with being a cagey shit if she wants to.
"Thanks," she mumbles, the corner of her mouth twisting, and they make their way another block or so in silence, while she's deep in thought, still fidgeting with her fingers.
"D'you think-"
Ellie pauses, frowning to herself.
"If we could all go back where we came from, tomorrow," she says slowly. "How many people do you think would stay?"
It's hard, in this moment, not to think of Margaery. It's hard not to think of his conversation with Cosima more recently, the ways he's started to wonder about other rifters. Whether they really have anything to go back to, even if they could, whether they'd want to. Wysteria isn't the only one married to a native. Petrana isn't likely to leave the work to be done here, nor Julius and Marcus. He'd —
"I don't know," he admits, softly. The ambient noise means they aren't likely to be overheard, but that isn't the real reason for his volume. "Probably more than you'd think, is my guess."
Ellie stops with him. There are few enough people that they don't provide too much of a break in the flow of traffic, and people drift around them, eddying like a river's flow. She fixes her eyes on him, steady, searching his face for more than what he's saying.
"Probably," she admits.
"I know I would."
Which is a hell of a thing to admit, coming fresh off the discussions of the Crystals, and what might become of the Rifters.
It sure is. But as much as that's a concerning thing to say, with the implications for her life back in her home, there's approval, too. It's there in how his expression warms a few degrees, the tilt to his mouth that isn't quite a smile.
"I would too."
Whether or not they can, or if they could safely leave Thedas without damaging it, or what would be waiting for them, or if there really are other versions of them still home — aren't a part of this conversation, not really. The question isn't feasibility, it's conviction.
"Is it that much better here?" she asks, sinking her hands into her pockets, tilting her head to look back at him thoughtfully. She can't imagine it, a world with spaceships. Leaving that. But even things that seem ideal can have rot creeping through the walls.
The noise he makes is somewhere between surprised and mirthless. But maybe she would, with the worlds she's seen before Thedas, assume the reason to be an improvement here.
"We're needed here," he corrects gently. "There's a lot of work that needs doing, and people I wouldn't abandon. Whatever I can do for them, I will."
He means Corypheus, and he means attitudes towards so many here in Thedas (elves, mages, dwarven castes, for instance). He means the mages' cause too; he'd promised Derrica to do what he could for that even before Kostos ever made his announcement. A thousand delicate threads, to people, to causes, to this place, that can't be undone without unraveling who he's become.
Ellie falls into uncomfortable silence, caught out by his answer. It seems so simple, the idea of being needed. Wanted. The idea of being able to do some good.
It shines a light on things Ellie keeps hearing, but doesn't really take to heart.
She's used to being a hindrance, rather than a help. She wonders, in her heart of hearts, if she ever really stopped thinking of herself as cargo.
I think we are here to do good, Nicky had said.
She plucks at her fingers, at the phantom ache in them, and slowly nods.
I am sure there are many flowers and trees that could use water in the meantime.
"I think as long as we're alive, there's something we can do."
The answer comes so easily, something he's spoken and thought more times than he can count. It might sound hollow coming from someone else.
He looks from her hands, to her face, and says, "I don't know what we're going to be able to do, or how much. I don't know how much work will be left when we're done."
Whatever done could possibly mean for them. Vanishing, or death, or capture, or actually saving this world, the Circles undone. Wouldn't that be nice?
"But it'll be more than if we hadn't tried. We're here, and that means something."
"As long as we don't make it worse," Ellie says flippantly, giving a small shrug. They've been doing all right so far, though. No major disasters, no unleashing an apocalypse, no mass casualty.
"And I mean, without us, this asshole noble wouldn't have gotten his counterfeit flower. So really, we're helping."
Ellie gently nudges Holden's arm, flashing him a half-smile, her attempt at humor.
"I've done that before too," he replies, dry. Major disasters, causing a war, mass casualty. "I'd say we're doing alright."
But his tone is light, follows her lead into less fraught territory. He reaches out to give her shoulder a brief squeeze; and then, in a put-upon tone,
"Well, whether it's counterfeit or not will depend on our friend Elarra."
Elarra's shop is near, now, tell-tale sign painted in bright colors. From the looks of her collection as it peeks through glass, if she doesn't have their flower, no one very well might.
Before opening the door he adds, wryly, "But I wouldn't say that too loudly around here."
And with that, they make it to their destination for another round of flower searching and haggling.
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no subject
"Gallows're kind of a small place after a while," she explains. "And I don't do so well with being walled in."
That's not all of it by far, but it's not untrue.
"Too many people."
That's not untrue either.
no subject
But he doesn't think that's what's causing her nervous habits in this moment, either.
So he's quiet for a moment, as they walk.
"You can always tell me," he says, "if you need an excuse to get some air like this." As Wysteria had pointed out recently, he does gravitate to work that's sometimes closer to Forces than Research. It's only after that, that he adds, "Or if you want someone to talk to."
no subject
"Thanks," she mumbles, the corner of her mouth twisting, and they make their way another block or so in silence, while she's deep in thought, still fidgeting with her fingers.
"D'you think-"
Ellie pauses, frowning to herself.
"If we could all go back where we came from, tomorrow," she says slowly. "How many people do you think would stay?"
no subject
It's hard, in this moment, not to think of Margaery. It's hard not to think of his conversation with Cosima more recently, the ways he's started to wonder about other rifters. Whether they really have anything to go back to, even if they could, whether they'd want to. Wysteria isn't the only one married to a native. Petrana isn't likely to leave the work to be done here, nor Julius and Marcus. He'd —
"I don't know," he admits, softly. The ambient noise means they aren't likely to be overheard, but that isn't the real reason for his volume. "Probably more than you'd think, is my guess."
no subject
"Probably," she admits.
"I know I would."
Which is a hell of a thing to admit, coming fresh off the discussions of the Crystals, and what might become of the Rifters.
no subject
"I would too."
Whether or not they can, or if they could safely leave Thedas without damaging it, or what would be waiting for them, or if there really are other versions of them still home — aren't a part of this conversation, not really. The question isn't feasibility, it's conviction.
no subject
She knows that a little too well.
no subject
"We're needed here," he corrects gently. "There's a lot of work that needs doing, and people I wouldn't abandon. Whatever I can do for them, I will."
He means Corypheus, and he means attitudes towards so many here in Thedas (elves, mages, dwarven castes, for instance). He means the mages' cause too; he'd promised Derrica to do what he could for that even before Kostos ever made his announcement. A thousand delicate threads, to people, to causes, to this place, that can't be undone without unraveling who he's become.
no subject
It shines a light on things Ellie keeps hearing, but doesn't really take to heart.
She's used to being a hindrance, rather than a help. She wonders, in her heart of hearts, if she ever really stopped thinking of herself as cargo.
I think we are here to do good, Nicky had said.
She plucks at her fingers, at the phantom ache in them, and slowly nods.
I am sure there are many flowers and trees that could use water in the meantime.
"You really think we can do something?"
no subject
The answer comes so easily, something he's spoken and thought more times than he can count. It might sound hollow coming from someone else.
He looks from her hands, to her face, and says, "I don't know what we're going to be able to do, or how much. I don't know how much work will be left when we're done."
Whatever done could possibly mean for them. Vanishing, or death, or capture, or actually saving this world, the Circles undone. Wouldn't that be nice?
"But it'll be more than if we hadn't tried. We're here, and that means something."
no subject
"And I mean, without us, this asshole noble wouldn't have gotten his counterfeit flower. So really, we're helping."
Ellie gently nudges Holden's arm, flashing him a half-smile, her attempt at humor.
Somehow, she's made things a little too real.
no subject
But his tone is light, follows her lead into less fraught territory. He reaches out to give her shoulder a brief squeeze; and then, in a put-upon tone,
"Well, whether it's counterfeit or not will depend on our friend Elarra."
no subject
The touch doesn't startle her, so she doesn't tense under it. Instead she flashes him a small half-smile, accepting the subject pull.
She chuckles under her breath, starts them moving onward.
"I dunno. Is there an underground rare plant smuggling operation in Thedas?"
If not, they may want to get in on that.
gently puts a bow on this
Elarra's shop is near, now, tell-tale sign painted in bright colors. From the looks of her collection as it peeks through glass, if she doesn't have their flower, no one very well might.
Before opening the door he adds, wryly, "But I wouldn't say that too loudly around here."
And with that, they make it to their destination for another round of flower searching and haggling.