faderift | open.

WHO: Derrica + OTA
WHAT: Office Hours
WHEN: Guardian
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Drop in, door's open.

There is nothing technically wrong with the Project Haven conference room and office. They are orderly, without any tangible sign of the intentions of their former owner.

Still, Derrica has thrown open the single window in the office wide in spite of the cold. There is a small crate just beside the doorway between office and conference room, where Derrica has been pitching anything she finds questionable. (Chantry texts to be relocated to records or the chapel, small items that might be personal affects, or are simply not to her taste.) She's left the doors open behind her, the one leading into the conference room, the one leading into the corridor, and the one leading into the Forces and Diplomacy workspaces as well, as if to promote circulation to the highest degree possible.

What comes after the cleaning is something Derrica is still working out.

She's never had an office. She's yet to even sit down at her allotted desk in the Forces workroom. But here she is, and she make something of the space. It's expected, she's certain.

Her hands are full of Chantry hymnals when the sound of footsteps pulls her attention from them.

"Watch out for the box," is her first, immediate word of caution. It's only partly blocking the doorway, but just enough to be a hazard to the unsuspecting.

Welcome to Project Haven. Don't mind the momentary clutter.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A brief flicker of a smile.

There are some things that simply go unsaid. Derrica might

"With Bastien," Derrica tells him. "But I imagine we would go to her, once we had a better idea of how to proceed."

We only narrowly replacing he. Yes, they'd go speak to her together. It would be their plan.

"It's hard to predict what she'd say. I assume that's on purpose," she adds, watching Julius pour. Is she supposed to get used to this too? Speaking with Division Heads and other Project Leaders as if she knows what she's speaking about?

Julius certainly seems to have no problem treating Derrica as a peer, though he's liked and respected her before this. (Then again, she'd be forgiven for wondering if he was just as seemingly at ease with those whose promotions he'd liked less.)

Either way, he tilts his head in acknowledgement of her point about Yseult as he hands her a glass of wine. "Perhaps. I confess that Scouting is the Division I know least about, but it seems an air of mystery is a likely prerequisite. Do you worry about it? Having your hands tied for fear of offending the Chantry?" He would, in her place.

It's a kindness, she thinks. It's a kindness how Julius takes this in stride, though she feels such an imbalance here. If she thought there was someone better for the job, she might have gone directly to them to petition they take it, but—

There's only her. Seeing to the business of this office herself, while Julius puts a finger directly on a large concern.

"Yes."

It will happen. Derrica feels the inevitability of such a conflict. Byerly Rutyer had all but predicted it outright.

"Julius, would I ever be prevented from acting, for fear of damaging our rapport with the Chantry?"

He sincerely considers the question for a moment. "I think it depends on what you mean. We're a small organization with a limited list of allies, so I think if you proposed a plan that would hurt that relationship, there would be debate and resistance. At a minimum, you'd need to make a compelling case for why that sacrifice is worth it. That said ..."

He sighs.

"None of the Division leaders or project heads are especially devoted to the Chantry beyond practicalities, as far as I'm aware. I suppose Felandaris is a wild card, since Stark was promoted. But otherwise, I don't think objections to alienating the Chantry would have any more weight than, say, alienating Orlais. I don't think the debate would be one with a foregone conclusion, if you made a compelling case."

A pause, then, light: "Do you have a particular plan to alienate the Chantry in mind?"

"Not at the moment."

Let's not rule out the future.

"Do you think the Chantry is an ally?"

Surely that's the bigger question. Is the Chantry an organization they can count as a friend?

He gives the question the real consideration it deserves. "From what I can tell," he says, after a moment, "the current Divine has a variety of irons in the fire. But she strikes me as a practical enough woman to know that none of her other plans will come to anything if Corypheus wins. I trust the Chantry not to turn on potential allies against Corypheus's forces as long as the outcome of the war is uncertain."

Which is a very long way of saying: For now.

For now.

Julius doesn't need to say it aloud. Derrica knows it. She understands.

"The Ambassador doesn't want to look to the future."

It's very important to tread lightly here. Derrica is careful to keep her voice neutral, measured as it has been.

"And I don't want to...I'm not trying to disrespect him. But I want my work in this office to give us some security, when all is said and done."

So, a difficult needle to thread.

Julius weighs his words; he trusts Derrica well enough, but they're more or less in public, in a project office where anyone could arrive or pass by without warning. After a moment, he speaks, tone as neutral as hers.

"Since even before we've been Riftwatch, many of us here have had more than one aim. I think as long as you make it clear that Corypheus is your priority, and that those other aims won't hinder the war effort, most people will understand, or at least look the other way. That said." He pauses, just a moment. "I think that security for members of our organization is a worthy goal, and that it would be short-sighted to take it for granted. Now or in the future."

He adds, with a small, wry smile: "After all. Who are we saving the world for?"

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