Is that where you’ve all been squirreled away? What’s it like up there?
( he knew, ish, that they’d been shunted off to a secondary location — the gallows was a little more empty, with a chunk of its personnel relocated into kirkwall proper — but he doesn’t know the assignees that well, besides mobius and gwenaëlle.
still. it’s been quieter around here, without them. )
I'm staying in my grandfather's residence, I only have to go to the haunted house for work. I've offered the mages rooms with us if they want a reprieve, though. And the pirates.
( not the templars, though, who are included among the things that everyone else might want a reprieve from. )
It's tolerable, for now. But it won't hold indefinitely.
How did you think a rifter could afford a mansion in Hightown? It's not the husband, she married the de Fonce they disinherited and having known the man for more than a decade, I'm not sure what possessed her for why.
I suppose it’s a tried-and-true method. Back in New York, you might’ve noticed how the Sanctum Sanctorum stood out from all the buildings around it— part of the reason the Masters of the Mystic Arts were able to hang onto the real estate is because it’s terrifically haunted. No other owners held it for long.
I feel like I need your gossip notes on all my colleagues. I work with the woman and didn’t know this about the husband.
People try to gossip with me and they find it dull, historically.
( mostly because she's boring about the fun parts — very little of it interests her all that much, unless it seems relevant. )
But I'm very observant. I had the advisors permission to document everything about Skyhold during the early days, I guess I'm in the habit.
( she "guesses". she has kept meticulous notes, unfailingly, every since; has long thought of writing a detailed history, once publishing won't risk active engagements. )
( another bitten-off chuckle. and herein lies the trouble with this conversation being over the crystals rather than written, while he’s already half-multitasking and turning back to the workbench: it means it’s like having a cell phone to his ear again, and so his response is quick, off-the-cuff, and he doesn’t have the chance to rein in that unthinking mouthiness. so, flippant: )
There’s an uptick to the corner of Strange’s mouth: a twist to his expression and something a little nostalgic, fond. “Not at all,” he says. “I used to fly everywhere back home, with my Cloak of Levitation. Got used to seeing everything from a birds’ eye view. I miss it. So a griffon ought to be a nice change of pace.”
And— ( a beat, contemplating, ) not dire, precisely. Just a little quieter and more tense around the Gallows. This came on very suddenly for everyone. This whole arrangement also robbed me of my sparring partner. And I’ve been appointed as a Nun Wrangler, somehow.
Well, no matter what she comes across as, most Chantry Mothers are knuckle deep in politics,
( which doesn't sound like much until you consider what that metaphor probably is, )
and certainly any of them sent here. And she's going to benefit extremely from being, probably, a tiresome old woman it's difficult to take seriously. Take her seriously.
Underplay oneself as a meddlesome old biddy which everyone will underestimate, then use that underestimation to gather crucial intel. That sort of thing?
( on the other end of the crystal she hums, thoughtful— )
Maybe. Probably not, things would probably be different if they'd done it very successfully. The Chantry has more ties with the Inquisition— that's half the reason we exist in the form we do, now.
Having to consider managing one rifter with a fear of heights, Ellis is still thinking on what that will look like long term. It's somewhat reassuring, to know that he won't have to consider doing the same for a man he knows less well.
"You might see about making friends with some of the griffons, in the meantime. I'll let you know when I've finished making arrangements for us to go."
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