The argument for knowing more is always, ultimately, that then we know more. Gwenaëlle fires off in one direction and then another, scattershot, incurably curious but idiosyncratic in what she latches onto and gnaws at. If only she'd been willing to take more of an interest in the affairs of long-dead elves,
but even still. She's found other angles to pursue, and follows those doggedly, smiling crooked when he speaks to her mind.
“I thought it'd have been inappropriate to be in Research, but Stark was bonking one of his, so I don't know why I cared so much.” Self-evidently, it had not been an issue for anyone else. “And Rutyer and Alexandrie. Is Yseult's husband in Scouting? Amsel was Diplomacy, so Niehaus would be in the clear—”
She's also dangerously prone to tangents, and refocuses.
“Not the point. Lyrium experiments. Poppell de Fonce has the grace and sensitivity of a war nug, which can be an issue when every other thing we do is going to be politically sensitive even within our own ranks, but she's got the right idea. And being ignorant is no protection—” which sounds a little like something she's said before, the echo of a previous argument. Maybe one she hadn't always been on the right or same side of, every time, but —
“I was so angry,” she says, finally. “When Thranduil had his phylactery made. I was so afraid for him I wanted to smash the stupid thing in his stupid face. And if he'd given it to me I would have done. But we had to know.”
(The worst part was always being left out of that process.)
no subject
but even still. She's found other angles to pursue, and follows those doggedly, smiling crooked when he speaks to her mind.
“I thought it'd have been inappropriate to be in Research, but Stark was bonking one of his, so I don't know why I cared so much.” Self-evidently, it had not been an issue for anyone else. “And Rutyer and Alexandrie. Is Yseult's husband in Scouting? Amsel was Diplomacy, so Niehaus would be in the clear—”
She's also dangerously prone to tangents, and refocuses.
“Not the point. Lyrium experiments. Poppell de Fonce has the grace and sensitivity of a war nug, which can be an issue when every other thing we do is going to be politically sensitive even within our own ranks, but she's got the right idea. And being ignorant is no protection—” which sounds a little like something she's said before, the echo of a previous argument. Maybe one she hadn't always been on the right or same side of, every time, but —
“I was so angry,” she says, finally. “When Thranduil had his phylactery made. I was so afraid for him I wanted to smash the stupid thing in his stupid face. And if he'd given it to me I would have done. But we had to know.”
(The worst part was always being left out of that process.)