( The thing is, they're so utterly the same when it comes to things like this. )
Busy, ( Stephen says, equally brisk and distracted, but it's not the same impatience he might've used for pretty much anyone else. Instead, an edge of concern bleeds into his voice: )
( She hasn't asked, and he probably shouldn't tell. Control the flow of information, let the other leaders wrangle what sort of details get out, this is a security risk—
But Stephen trusts Gwenaëlle with an automatic kneejerk unthinking instinct, where it feels the most natural thing in the world to tell her. )
Don't mention this more widely. The seneschal's been poisoned. He seems fine for now, but I'm attending to it.
Be— ( A brief pause, his laser focus slipping at the thought of her out there and this threat being wider than one glass of wine, one target. ) Be careful.
( He's made sure he's out of earshot for that. He's been hovering like a mother hen watching the other man's condition, but he doesn't have to be literally breathing down Julius' neck for the rest of the day. )
( —Recordscratch. Wait what. Stephen's attention shifts, sends him to the next room over, perhaps to linger in the doorway of an unused office and not, y'know, talk about the seneschal right in front of him. )
I agree, the motive is baffling us— even I like him— but wait, what, he lived in your house?
( Confused spinny-circle bluescreening. Had she and Julius been an item? Has he, mortifyingly, missed some vital social history here?? )
Oh, that's — when I was a fragile hothouse flower in Hightown, my aunt wanted a guardian in the house and I decided to presume on his — very former — connection to my uncle to piss her off by choosing a mage.
( it's a little convoluted, although familiar enough and easy to rattle off that she's clearly picked up again from where she'd been much struck by the news. )
Resultingly, every now and again he comes over all avuncular.
( At the word avuncular, there’s a small exhale of breath which is— well, yes, it’s an exhale of relief. (It’s fine, this is a normal and completely not over-invested reaction, what are you talking about.) )
I can’t imagine you ever having been a fragile hothouse flower.
( Stephen could treat it as an offhand comment, but he pauses to actually consider it, reflecting on and lining up these two hypothetical versions of themselves. )
I wouldn’t even recognise myself. Pre-sorcery, I was a real asshole. I mean, I still am, sometimes, but it was different—
( The arrogant surgeon might have had some limited time for her, but he would have discarded her just as quickly after. It’s a lost cause ruminating on it any further. He glances down at the small glow of the sending crystal held between his scarred fingers, and maybe it’s all the adrenaline and chaos and worry of the day which makes him stupid and sentimental, but he adds, voice carefully neutral, )
( Work beckons, and this ongoing emergency beckons, and this absolutely insane ridiculous week just keeps happening; he should get back to it. So, grudgingly, as they click off the line: ) You too.
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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Busy, ( Stephen says, equally brisk and distracted, but it's not the same impatience he might've used for pretty much anyone else. Instead, an edge of concern bleeds into his voice: )
And you? Are you anywhere near the central tower?
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( she wants to ask — he almost certainly knows more than she does — but for now it's enough to have something to do and know that they're safe. )
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But Stephen trusts Gwenaëlle with an automatic kneejerk unthinking instinct, where it feels the most natural thing in the world to tell her. )
Don't mention this more widely. The seneschal's been poisoned. He seems fine for now, but I'm attending to it.
Be— ( A brief pause, his laser focus slipping at the thought of her out there and this threat being wider than one glass of wine, one target. ) Be careful.
no subject
Wait, Julius?
( no, the other seneschal. )
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( He's made sure he's out of earshot for that. He's been hovering like a mother hen watching the other man's condition, but he doesn't have to be literally breathing down Julius' neck for the rest of the day. )
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( she can think of reasons someone would want to do it, that's easy, he's a political mage. even still— )
That's suicide. Nevermind he's been with us since Skyhold and people like him— he lived in my house, for pity's sake—
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I agree, the motive is baffling us— even I like him— but wait, what, he lived in your house?
( Confused spinny-circle bluescreening. Had she and Julius been an item? Has he, mortifyingly, missed some vital social history here?? )
no subject
( it's a little convoluted, although familiar enough and easy to rattle off that she's clearly picked up again from where she'd been much struck by the news. )
Resultingly, every now and again he comes over all avuncular.
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I can’t imagine you ever having been a fragile hothouse flower.
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( she doesn't sound bothered or particularly critical — it just feels obvious and true. )
I don't know that you'd even— recognise that girl.
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I wouldn’t even recognise myself. Pre-sorcery, I was a real asshole. I mean, I still am, sometimes, but it was different—
( The arrogant surgeon might have had some limited time for her, but he would have discarded her just as quickly after. It’s a lost cause ruminating on it any further. He glances down at the small glow of the sending crystal held between his scarred fingers, and maybe it’s all the adrenaline and chaos and worry of the day which makes him stupid and sentimental, but he adds, voice carefully neutral, )
Glad we met when we did.
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( it's a joke, except that she probably will, and that she's definitely testing the come over— waters, then: )
Got to get up to the eyrie. Stay out of trouble.
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( Work beckons, and this ongoing emergency beckons, and this absolutely insane ridiculous week just keeps happening; he should get back to it. So, grudgingly, as they click off the line: ) You too.