No matter. [Said dismissively, willing away his own supposition as he draws back in his own perch to thumb idly through the next few pages of his unbearably enlightening required reading (imagine thinking for fun).]
What think you of this world and its people, now that you've had opportunity to know it?
[ She has to think about that, weighing the possibility of answering truthfully against admitting a little too much. ]
It's weird, being in a city. A real one, I mean--one where everyone's alive and just...living. There's so many people here. [ Not a very long pause. ] What do you think of it?
Much the same, in fact. I have spent too long away from my own kind— from the living, as you say— and thus returned to a place so ordered with life and structure...
[A soft noise, pinned against the back of his throat.]
Perhaps I no longer remember how to function in such a world.
[ She doesn't have the heart to explain what she means by the living--but the general sense is exactly what she means. Orderly, structured, full of people who already know the rules. And it still feels like there's got to be a catch somewhere. ]
It's not that hard. [ It's a fake-it-til-you-make-it sort of comment, something she wishes were as true as she's trying to make it sound. ] You just gotta...practice, I guess.
Yeah. I mean...I don't wanna fight anymore. I don't wanna sleep in the woods all the time anymore. I didn't, um, get to finish school. So not Forces, or Scouting, or Research. Diplomacy's kinda all that's left.
Ah, so you've met Byerly already. Perhaps my counsel was unnecessary, then.
[Still, he has a feeling the Head of Diplomacy will have given her no trouble regardless. The man has a soft heart somewhere in his uniquely thin-boned body.]
Not long before you. Barely a week's time.
[Deceptive, perhaps, how well acclimated he seems when discussing it at large, but that's a matter of his nature and nothing more.
[ The last time she had a job to do, it wasn't one where she could trust anyone around her. Anything that tells her a little more about the people in charge here is good. ]
[It hardly fits him, not after an eternity of solitude— not even before that, in his shortened life as a Judge Magister of Archades: he'd benefited from the distance of leadership, the necessity of adopted guises and crueler cast shadows.
Here, now, he simply acts as ally and aide, and it taxes him all the more for it.]
Some people like talking even less than you. Especially when you can't get any distance.
[ My friend, Daryl-- is how she wants to go on, but the thought of talking about people she'll never see again makes her chest feel like it's folding in on itself. And talking about Daryl in particular, trying to get across all of him without betraying his trust--it just doesn't seem possible. ]
[There is something to be said of old dogs and new tricks. When the will of experience leaves you, little else rises in its place— he cannot claim to have either want or need of practice, he cannot claim to have much at all here, beyond a desire to prove usefulness one last time.
But of course, bright as the spark of her hope seems to be, she need not know this.]
...Perhaps.
Unfortunately I have little time to spare between assigned work and necessary reports. [This? This is how he gracefully declines opportunity for change.]
I cannot say what constitutes decency or enjoyment here.
[No, he doesn’t like it.]
The matter of willful rebellion is one I am already familiar with— but there is a difference between man against man, and man against the cruelties of gods.
If this is Commander Flint’s viewpoint, I do not share it.
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Reading, that is. Not murder.]
Does that disappoint you?
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No matter. [Said dismissively, willing away his own supposition as he draws back in his own perch to thumb idly through the next few pages of his unbearably enlightening required reading (imagine thinking for fun).]
What think you of this world and its people, now that you've had opportunity to know it?
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It's weird, being in a city. A real one, I mean--one where everyone's alive and just...living. There's so many people here. [ Not a very long pause. ] What do you think of it?
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[A soft noise, pinned against the back of his throat.]
Perhaps I no longer remember how to function in such a world.
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It's not that hard. [ It's a fake-it-til-you-make-it sort of comment, something she wishes were as true as she's trying to make it sound. ] You just gotta...practice, I guess.
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[What, after all, could make for better practice than that.]
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strangles dreamwidth gently for concealing this
[How so, Beth?]
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[Her personality is warm enough, her presence presumed welcome— even by someone as dour as him.]
Tell me, have you met many others yet?
[Trouble or comfort, he would hear it all.]
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[ Helpful, pleasant, without hesitation. ]
Yeah, a couple of people. Byerly, Amos, Wysteria, Derrica...
When'd you join Riftwatch?
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[Still, he has a feeling the Head of Diplomacy will have given her no trouble regardless. The man has a soft heart somewhere in his uniquely thin-boned body.]
Not long before you. Barely a week's time.
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Read: he's fucking old.]no subject
[ The last time she had a job to do, it wasn't one where she could trust anyone around her. Anything that tells her a little more about the people in charge here is good. ]
Have you talked to many people yet?
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[It hardly fits him, not after an eternity of solitude— not even before that, in his shortened life as a Judge Magister of Archades: he'd benefited from the distance of leadership, the necessity of adopted guises and crueler cast shadows.
Here, now, he simply acts as ally and aide, and it taxes him all the more for it.]
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[ Still friendly, just a little teasing. ]
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It has never suited me.
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[A pause, his voice lighter than usual regardless:]
Though if you believe my efforts sufficient, I shudder to think of what contact with mankind you've held previously.
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Some people like talking even less than you. Especially when you can't get any distance.
[ My friend, Daryl-- is how she wants to go on, but the thought of talking about people she'll never see again makes her chest feel like it's folding in on itself. And talking about Daryl in particular, trying to get across all of him without betraying his trust--it just doesn't seem possible. ]
Maybe you just need practice.
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But of course, bright as the spark of her hope seems to be, she need not know this.]
...Perhaps.
Unfortunately I have little time to spare between assigned work and necessary reports. [This? This is how he gracefully declines opportunity for change.]
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[ A little disappointed--maybe. Just kind of quiet again, that yeah. And then a little silence, and then: ]
What're you working on now?
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Commander Flint claims he holds little use for a man without hobbies. I disagree, but I've no right to refute his claims, and as such...
[Well, here we are, in essence.]
He has granted me a book, supposedly in the hopes that it might enlighten me.
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[ She's guessing not, considering he's talking to her instead of reading it, but still. ]
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[No, he doesn’t like it.]
The matter of willful rebellion is one I am already familiar with— but there is a difference between man against man, and man against the cruelties of gods.
If this is Commander Flint’s viewpoint, I do not share it.
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nb: gunshot wound descriptions here
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