The likelihood that one day, wherever Gwenaëlle settles will be anywhere in Orlais—
it is slim. Even as much as she has thawed over the years to the home she does not miss, there are too many other places filled with people she hasn't already made enemies of, and many of them much more interesting to her, with the appeal of the unfamiliar and new. Skyhold had been the beginning of a wanderlust that has taken thorough root in her. But that isn't the point, really; not the practicalities of what it would mean, living in Val Royeaux, the granular detail of where and how.
No; the hypothetical is the gesture, her curious gaze over his figurative shoulder. You love this place, she means to say, I am imagining what that might be like to do.
“You don't find it so,” she says, more explicitly. “I've found your judgment sound in other things. And I've found—”
A quick few steps, spinning almost beside him, taking in the parts of this street that she might have missed if she were only frowning at the chevalier and the jawline someone might yet cut themselves upon,
“I've found it useful to stand somewhere else and see something different. Over the years.”
Careful not to press; careful not to presume. Bastien has never struck her as someone going out of his way to volunteer much about himself or what he cares about — maybe she isn't someone he's interested in opening up to. Hypothetically, she could look over his shoulder, if he let her. Her desire to do so is an honest thing, even sidled up to like this.
no subject
it is slim. Even as much as she has thawed over the years to the home she does not miss, there are too many other places filled with people she hasn't already made enemies of, and many of them much more interesting to her, with the appeal of the unfamiliar and new. Skyhold had been the beginning of a wanderlust that has taken thorough root in her. But that isn't the point, really; not the practicalities of what it would mean, living in Val Royeaux, the granular detail of where and how.
No; the hypothetical is the gesture, her curious gaze over his figurative shoulder. You love this place, she means to say, I am imagining what that might be like to do.
“You don't find it so,” she says, more explicitly. “I've found your judgment sound in other things. And I've found—”
A quick few steps, spinning almost beside him, taking in the parts of this street that she might have missed if she were only frowning at the chevalier and the jawline someone might yet cut themselves upon,
“I've found it useful to stand somewhere else and see something different. Over the years.”
Careful not to press; careful not to presume. Bastien has never struck her as someone going out of his way to volunteer much about himself or what he cares about — maybe she isn't someone he's interested in opening up to. Hypothetically, she could look over his shoulder, if he let her. Her desire to do so is an honest thing, even sidled up to like this.