closed.

[charmoffensive]

WHO: Loxley, Yseult
WHAT: Normal work discussions
WHEN: Early August
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: n/a

He doesn't find himself in this chair and opposite this desk especially often, having contented himself for so long in taking tasks filtered through written order, crystal message, volunteered in meetings. If he'd ever had an aversion to being put in this position—more accurately, putting himself here—he scarcely remembers why, let alone scarcely remembers his own trepidation.

Richard had said something to the tune of fuck them, mostly in connection with the Ambassador's office, back in those fraught early days. But the Ambassador's office is empty and Richard is a month and a half gone now, and on reflection, Loxley thinks maybe he'd just said it to make Loxley feel better about himself. Anyway, Richard, the traitor, had started giving an awful lot to the cause.

He was in Minrathous this morning. The eyepatch he wears is decorated with an embroidered rose with flaking petals, and the rest of his garb mildly decorative, this side of piratical in texture and pattern, brighter for laying on grey-silver skin. Still wearing gloves that mask the shard of anchoring light embedded in one of his hands, although he seems to remember them now, taking them off as he speaks to Yseult.

"She's rather resistant to the idea of having me in her house," he's saying. "Very, I should say."