To Isaac's question he tips his head to one side, a nod with equivocation. The People trust the ship. The People, as everyone, only have so many options. They won't know for sure until, you know. Until they know. But it's still a good question worth trying to answer.
He puts a hand on Gal's shoulder for a moment, heavy and reassuring as a hand on a shoulder can be, and turns away from the conversation to talk to his crystal instead. Someone can go to the docks ahead of them. Get a read on the ship—whether it's waiting, whether it's preparing to leave because it doesn't expect its passengers anyway, whether it's already gone.
It's Gal who takes Gwenaëlle's instructions in stride, relatively. Maybe some of his miserable slumping in his chair has been about this inevitability, rather than his own burst of violence and the prospective fates of the two countrymen on the floor. When it's said out loud he only nods and stands slowly, and it's Vorenia who says, "What?" with an incredulous half-laugh and a smile that fades as the answer to that rhetorical question sinks in. She grips Gal's elbow. Whether she's supporting him (still looking a little faint) or trying to stop him from complying with these ridiculous instructions isn't clear. Probably both. She says, "No, I'm meeting my sister for lunch tomorrow."
Bastien's happy enough not to have to be the one insisting on this bad news. When his murmuring into the crystal ends, he turns his attention to the guardsmen instead. Knowing without having to check that the door ahead of them, next to the stairs, is some kind of closet or larder—that's his job.
He hoists the one who's still awake up halfway by the armpits to drag in that direction. Whatever they do with them, they don't need to do it in the view of anyone else who might come to the front door unexpectedly, or Gal, or the curious eyes along the seam of the cellar hatch.
"Are we still leaving tonight?" someone whispers from below.
no subject
He puts a hand on Gal's shoulder for a moment, heavy and reassuring as a hand on a shoulder can be, and turns away from the conversation to talk to his crystal instead. Someone can go to the docks ahead of them. Get a read on the ship—whether it's waiting, whether it's preparing to leave because it doesn't expect its passengers anyway, whether it's already gone.
It's Gal who takes Gwenaëlle's instructions in stride, relatively. Maybe some of his miserable slumping in his chair has been about this inevitability, rather than his own burst of violence and the prospective fates of the two countrymen on the floor. When it's said out loud he only nods and stands slowly, and it's Vorenia who says, "What?" with an incredulous half-laugh and a smile that fades as the answer to that rhetorical question sinks in. She grips Gal's elbow. Whether she's supporting him (still looking a little faint) or trying to stop him from complying with these ridiculous instructions isn't clear. Probably both. She says, "No, I'm meeting my sister for lunch tomorrow."
Bastien's happy enough not to have to be the one insisting on this bad news. When his murmuring into the crystal ends, he turns his attention to the guardsmen instead. Knowing without having to check that the door ahead of them, next to the stairs, is some kind of closet or larder—that's his job.
He hoists the one who's still awake up halfway by the armpits to drag in that direction. Whatever they do with them, they don't need to do it in the view of anyone else who might come to the front door unexpectedly, or Gal, or the curious eyes along the seam of the cellar hatch.
"Are we still leaving tonight?" someone whispers from below.