arcaneadvisor | ooc: inbox/plot with me

He strikes me as prone to achieving the things he sets out to do. I suppose he set out to learn and did.

( 'suppose' nothing. her admiration is hard to miss. )

So I have to be glad he did it this way. I wouldn't prefer the alternative.

( being in the qun. being less taken with her. )

The Inquisition has been sorely lacking in such individuals. One could say the same of you; no one else writes of the Inquisition, for the Inquisition after all.

[And while she's proud, she's intrigued, trying to imagine what the possible outcomes of this might be. So few things are ever truly down to just chance or happenstance.]

I must tell you of the Qunari that travelled with us during the Blight. What a singularly striking individual he was though he cared more small kittens on the road and his blade than other matters.

[Also art but she would like to deliver that bit in person.]

Morrigan.

[ Hopefully she isn't up to her neck in Venatori or something. ]

What would you think about me teaching Kieran to use a sword?

Alistair.

[Up to her eyeballs in all-consuming darkness, helping out by sometimes being a spider, spidering around.

As one does.]

You would use some sort of practice sword, one with a blunted blade, I trust? [Just to be clear. Please imagine where her eyebrows are, they might be winging their way to Skyhold for the sole purpose of hovering threateningly at you in mild alarm.] Does Kieran wish to learn?

[ He can imagine the eyebrows. Alone with his sending crystal, he scrunches his eyes shut as if to guard against the mental image.

However, through the fear, he manages to say, ] Oh, no, I thought I'd just nick one off the nearest soldier and let him have at it. I'll tie some pillows to him for armor.

[ —anyway. ]

He hasn't said anything. I haven't asked him. I didn't want to put he idea in his head and disappoint him or make you be the one to tell him no. [ He has your back, Morrigan. In this specific way. When it occurs to him. ] He likes his soldiers, though, doesn't he? He might enjoy it.

How long have you spent around Orlesian children? [Alistair, imagine if you will some of what she has seen wandering about the Court. Just.

Orlais why.] Was that not suggested for Oghren once when he complained he was too hungover and his armour was too loud? The time he wished to go nude and we protested. Loudly.

[Classic times.]

He is a boy of ten, and I told him of you. He plays at swords with sticks and branches with his friends, t'would not hurt, I suppose. [And she has yours if you want to do this Male Bonding Not!Dad thing then.]

Ah--not much. And only the commoners.

[ He cannot imagine Court. He refuses to imagine Court. He fully and gladly cooperated in the premature end of an ages-old dynasty in exchange for the right to never have to even consider the vague idea of Court.

Apparently it's an evening for imagining things he doesn't want to imagine, though. ]

Morrigan. Why? [ With anguish. ] We have all suffered enough. We've earned the right to never, ever, ever think about Oghren going nude again. Even you.

[ Anguish promptly evaporates, though, for sword talk. ]

Great. Thank you. I mean, he might say no, anyway, but I--thanks. [ This is weird. He clears his throat and tries to sound less like he's ten years old himself. ] I don't plan to put him through drills or anything, but I met a mage who carries a sword as well, and I thought it might be good for him to know which end goes where, if he's ever in trouble.

I saw one lad. I assume he was a lad, he looked rather like an over-large onion the way someone had padded him up.

[Do you Dark Souls much Alistair, it was that whole vibe. She just watched and sighed for about three solid hours because why. Of course she laughs though because even when she's in Kirkwall, irritated and miserable given much of her present company, and Venatori, and having to reveal her eluvian, she can still upset Alistair.

Good to know some things never change.]

I have? Why Alistair, I did not know you cared so dearly! [Leliana might even overhear. Who knows. What time is this I'm going to just kick the concept of time into the dirtiest gutter in Kirkwall for good measure.]

Kieran enjoys spending time with you. [Does she need to say that? Sometimes she feels the need to. To say that yes. Yes this is allowed, and Kieran is allowed, and she is happy for both of them to have whatever this is for however long it will last.] A knight-enchanter? Or have you any arcane warriors amongst you, there must be a few out there in the world. He...is not fond of lyrium. Perhaps in time that will change but if not? It will limit his spellcasting, and put him at risk.

[And she won't always be able to be there, not when the world is what it is.]

[Pel steps into Morrigan's office like she's in trouble. Her hands are folded in front of her, and her face is even more blank than usual.]

I...wanted to report to you something that happened in the Brecilian Ruins. And I'm not sure how to explain it to Lady Nightingale.

[Well that gets one eyebrow up as Morrigan waves her in, a small stack of letters slid to one side of the desk and out of the way for the moment.]

We are both familiar with the Brecilian Ruins; am I to take it that this is an elven matter or a magical matter?

[Or both, but that hangs unspoken from the tilt of her jaw as she looks Pel up and down once again.]

Both. [Spoken as a confirmation.] We encountered a spirit there in an old phylactery. Nothing malevolent. It used to be a warrior in the time of Arlathan.

You are fortunate. [There's a touch of humour mingled with exasperation that curls the corner of her mouth into a smirk; black vials, revenants, always in places where they should not have been.] A spirit within the vial...and it recalled Arlathan?

[It almost seems impossible but then hadn't that whole ruin been decidedly strange?]

Do you know how it came to be within a vial at all?

[She shakes her head.] It was some manner of phylactery. Maybe a different sort than the Chantry uses. It was bound to it until it could be placed on an altar. That broke the spell in the blood, and the spirit was laid to rest. But not before it granted...memory.

[Leaning forward, scraps of parchment rustling under her arms as she rests her chin on her hands, she closes her eyes. Casts her mind back; werewolves, ghosts that sobbed and then shrieked in elven, a dragon, the ritual pool. More she perhaps forgets but it has been ten years and there had been a job to do after all, that whole business with Zathrian to be getting on with.] Much of what the Chantry and Circle knows had to have come from somewhere, tis far from likely they shall ever admit to a source; tell me, Pel, would you be at all surprised if the phylacteries too had come from the elves, something taken and used for whatever purpose they saw fit?

[But that is a distraction from the true purpose of this discussion, so she steers it back.]

Before we come to the memory, why place it upon the altar?

[She'd had the same thought herself.]

It...didn't remember anything else but what was trained into it for so long. It wouldn't have been useful to bring it back to Skyhold.

That it had not become corrupted in a place filled with as much death is... [A miracle, someone of a given faith might say but Morrigan isn't inclined to that sort of grandiose statement so she leaves Pel's mind to fill in the blanks appropriately herself.]

It's location is known now, not all things must be returned to Skyhold to be picked over.

There is a knock on Morrigan's door. Outside, Pel has a sheaf of papers and a baby in a sling. Also, a bag with stuff in it.

"Can I talk to you? I brought lunch." She hasn't had a break for food since the daughter was born. Every meal has been on the job.

At present work is the last thing occupying Morrigan's thoughts, other concerns spread out across a desk headed for someone else before a glare levelled saw it brought to her door. A door to be replaced to be certain. After the more pressing matters are dealt with.

"Pel," she greets with a glance up as she begins to gather up what does creep over her desk, separating out errant notes of Kieran's from her own. He'll want those with him. Or she'll want him to have them. "An urgent matter I take it?"

Morrigan had arrived late, after the child but runners are willing to talk when the witch offers tea and to not make them do things for the price of a cup of gossip.

That gets a blank look. Why would it be urgent? Oh, because most people don't take their work home with them. Most people, like Morrigan, switch things off and relax at the end of the day and don't expect people to barge in on them with work.

Oops.

"No," Pel says distantly. When was the last time Pel took a break? She has no breaks. She has a newborn. If she switches things off, she may not be able to start again. "I just wanted your opinions on some things. I'm sorry, I've never not worked through lunch. And nowadays I have to to make up for the time it takes to give her her lunch, I wasn't thinking. Would you rather meet in my office when you come back to work?"

Morrigan works long hours; she lived her research for years in a way most can't, most won't but settling a boy Kieran's age after lifting him out of a comfortable year and more in Skyhold now into Kirkwall takes more planning than people realise. The careful lie, for instance, for those not part of the Inquisition. A precarious household of Gwenaëlle's making, the lady herself, Thranduil, Kieran, Alistair and Ser Coupe invited guests along with whatever else, Morrigan's standing invitation of course but this is Kirkwall not Orlais, Morrigan does not have quite the same shields she had previously.

Orlais did not settle in Sundermount's shadow where her mother took flight again, stretched her wings wide and went hunting. Morrigan knows the truth in that part of the tale, and people don't know that fear. They will never understand waiting for Flemeth to reach out her hand and grab her and Kieran both by the hair in the black night.

"I have made arrangements for the eluvians currently present in Skyhold; I was one of the last to walk beneath the gates. Until such times as Kirkwall can be deemed suitable for such things, they should remain there, after all, I recall the getting of the eluvian from Kirkwall to Skyhold." Not a pleasant undertaking by any stretch of the imagination so if Pel wishes to talk of work and business then let them talk of it. "There are other matters not entirely related to the Inquisition precisely but should they bear fruit, the Inquisition will learn of them. I have a need to go to Sundermount."

Eyebrows tic up. So new-parent-brain hasn't ruined her entire purpose in coming here. Pel enters, looking a little frazzled and breathless still, and finds a place to settle with the food and the baby. There is so much to do and think about, Pel seems always to handle everything anymore the moment it is shoved in front of her face. And if she finds herself without a thing in front of her face, she has to scramble for whatever it is she is neglecting. The eluvians set her thoughts back on track after the stuttering derailment.

"The eluvians, yes." She starts to set out lunch. "Every Circle has a secure vault for sensitive items, such as apprentice phylacteries. I've secured part of it for elven artifacts, especially the eluvians, but you are right--moving the ones we have right now would be a pointless risk. The ones we find going forward could be kept here securely, in a port city, rather than making the journey up the mountains to Skyhold. And we do need to find more--the Inquisition has told me to prioritize the eluvians, which is why I want Thranduil and Ellana helping you, Thranduil having volunteered to me personally for it. I have maps, if you have any ideas where we could begin the hunt, and I am wondering also if you have anything I can scry with. We ought to use everything at our disposal. Now..."

She stops for breath.

"Sundermount?"

Edited 2017-06-29 00:28 (UTC)

Moving the books that she unpacked - because they were in the way of the things that she did happen to need, things she had sent ahead of her and Kieran as the problem with settling is that you accumulate, and again they will have to trim down to the essentials when time here has come to an end - she glances at the child again but was this not her once? No. The shadow of Flemeth awaited, the hand to snatch her by the hair, to rip a child from her grasp. A world through a mirror beckoned.

But there are things that cannot be spoken of.

"Do not forget that I have seen the so-called security of a Circle, one set within a lake with a long and storied history that fell to darkness. There is no security to be found in them. Not in Kirkwall where the Veil spread itself thin long before the splitting of the sky itself; do you imagine that the Inquisition alone is enough to deter those who know Kirkwall best?" Thieves have long slipped their fingers into Kirkwall's locks, Morrigan knows that well enough and it's why a stronger door for her own study with spells upon it will be a priority, a deterrent or as good a one as can be managed but if things go missing then so much the better for her habit of making her own notes and keeping them to herself that she's impressed upon those she's taught. "I know more of the eluvians than most, I enjoy the company of both Thranduil and Ellana, though I require no maps to find them; if they were so easy to find, they would be found by now. Most are ruined, shattered, gone, lost and destroyed and entirely beyond reach of the Inquisition."

She should know. She did it alone, she did it with no one else and a part of her coils and hisses within herself. I remade it. I forged it. I smithed the glass and shredded my voice until it was as ruined as that of any glass-maker in Serault, I lived in a place without name so I gave it a name that a child might know his home for he was less safe than any child has ever been. What do you know of it. Instead she swallows, rubs where a headache sits in her temples, a place she gives over to a few certain people including Flemeth. (There mother, you have one piece of me at either side, but you are not even close to satisfied.)

"A personal matter. I may depart the Inquisition for a time if what I find proves relevant but tis as I said, personal." A courtesy that Morrigan is telling her that she'll be leaving at an undisclosed time, for an undisclosed period, but what Morrigan deems to share of her mother, she feels, is entirely up to herself. The world has enough tales of her mother to split between itself and Pel's people had a share of them too, tis only right that Morrigan should keep a share of it that belongs to her.

There is a headache growing at the crown of Pel's head. She nods and rubs her temple.

"Right. You are the resident expert on the eluvians; I trust your judgment entirely. Do as you see fit. And I'll be here if you need anything." Honestly, it's kind of a relief that the maps were unnecessary. Less shit for her to organize, fewer supply requisitions to fill out.

"As for the trip to Sundermount, thanks for the heads-up. And feel free to let me know if you need anything from me. Personally, not professionally. And maybe professionally as well, I'm sure I can stretch the rules a bit." A fleeting smile.

Madame Morrigan,

[ the faint chatter of orlesian in the background; it cuts off with the soft click of a shut door. ]

This is Coupe, we have spoken prior.

[ no point in attaching the title — they both know it's there, and its absence is one in the many small, tiresome signals that mark the context of the conversation: this isn't an official inquiry.

(rather, it's one she'd much prefer to keep from the record) ]

I hope you will forgive my informality, but ah, [ somewhat wryly, ] Have you perchance noticed a large forest in the middle of Hightown?

Edited 2017-07-27 21:06 (UTC)

[In the most droll way she can:] The wolf at the door.

[Well, if she's being asked about this fiasco (the polite way to put it) from where there are at least a pack of Orlesians then either someone deemed it worth telling a member away on business or the talk has already spread. Either option is far from good.

What did the Inquisition think it was doing after all, relocating to Kirkwall.]

I do believe that last I checked, I was indeed in possession of eyes that did as eyes should do. I hope there are no ridiculous rumours attached to my name, given the company. [Morrigan is also in possession of ears that do as ears do.]

ooc: inbox/plot with me

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crystal; while he's babysitting.

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Backdated to early November/Firstfall

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action

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crystal;

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