[He takes no shame in poor memory. He takes shame in very little ever, actually, outside of etiquette in the presence of his betters.
She, of course, is his equal.] We ought return, then. I am to leave soon enough, and were you to assist me in my efforts it would make the journey all the more simple.
Even ruins hold stories, Daughter of Denerim. Though perhaps you are correct. It would be an ordeal with no promise of reward.
And I’ll not tell you where to next continue your search.
[so then, to press on:]
My work is farther. The trade routes reaching from Nevarra out to the northern and western stretch of the Imperial Highway. I'd not yet asked, as I've only just begun to make the first of my own preparations.
Yet you remain free to refuse if you care to. The task itself is steep, and its span broad.
There were a party of mages heading to Kinloch before you arrived. Had them get any detail of Bede they could. It's how I know he might still be alive.
If you're going, I'm going with, Noah.
[She's not sure when she is and isn't supposed to use that name, but now seems like the right time as well as any.]
[He makes a faint noise. A subtle show of measurement. He wonders if anyone else can hear her— but no. It seems unlikely, given the personal nature of this exchange.
And he wishes, more than that, to trust her.]
Some might consider such devotion ill advised, Daughter of Denerim.
[If he leapt off a bridge under orders, do him the favor of not following.]
But in this instance, I am grateful for it. And I dare not take Lord Artemaeus so far north.
[Erik suffers, something which Gabranth dare not speak of openly, and he longs not to tempt the man to look for lost faces amongst strangers— Captain Holden is earnest, yet frustrating enough that they would no doubt bicker the entire route. No, it is Jone that remains his first choice, and in the end, his only choice.]
[It's hard to be doom and gloom when a fellow is saying, without any evident hesitation, that he thinks you can do it. She has no natural protection against this sort of thing. It's not something she comes across in the wild, so to speak.]
[He knows by now she does not mock him, only the depth of his words. That is fine. Fair, even. She is free to make light of it, if it helps her endure.
And he will hold confidence enough for the both of them, in the interim.]
And what to do no less.
Make ready your belongings, revel in your personal success as you must— we depart once you are ready, for I shall bring no other in this journey.
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That's Kinloch.
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She, of course, is his equal.] We ought return, then. I am to leave soon enough, and were you to assist me in my efforts it would make the journey all the more simple.
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[Without me? But of course, no, he never would.]
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And I’ll not tell you where to next continue your search.
[so then, to press on:]
My work is farther. The trade routes reaching from Nevarra out to the northern and western stretch of the Imperial Highway. I'd not yet asked, as I've only just begun to make the first of my own preparations.
Yet you remain free to refuse if you care to. The task itself is steep, and its span broad.
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If you're going, I'm going with, Noah.
[She's not sure when she is and isn't supposed to use that name, but now seems like the right time as well as any.]
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And he wishes, more than that, to trust her.]
Some might consider such devotion ill advised, Daughter of Denerim.
[If he leapt off a bridge under orders, do him the favor of not following.]
But in this instance, I am grateful for it. And I dare not take Lord Artemaeus so far north.
[Erik suffers, something which Gabranth dare not speak of openly, and he longs not to tempt the man to look for lost faces amongst strangers— Captain Holden is earnest, yet frustrating enough that they would no doubt bicker the entire route. No, it is Jone that remains his first choice, and in the end, his only choice.]
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[You started it.]
No, that lad needs to stay in Kirkwall until the war ends. If it does.
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And then he returns from it, as if it never existed at all.]
All things end. We will see it made so.
[She and he, or those they shelter. His faith in this as adamantine as his armor. His helm.]
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[To swerve the conversation, or to make a point. It depends on how him.]
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The concept I understand, if not the mythology and superstition it breeds.
[He does not ask why. She will say so.]
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[Please don't mean Andrastianism.]
The First Blight lasted two hundred years, y'know. Started by the same prick as this fight, if he's to be believed.
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The First Blight lacked our influence. Our strength.
[Someone might consider this a joke. It is not a joke.]
Let no doubt color you, Jone of Denerim. Let no written word speak to you of endless evil.
The future is not shaped from stone, and I have seen stranger horrors unmade by creatures more pitiful than us both.
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[Still, it's better played off as a joke.]
You always know just what to say.
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And he will hold confidence enough for the both of them, in the interim.]
And what to do no less.
Make ready your belongings, revel in your personal success as you must— we depart once you are ready, for I shall bring no other in this journey.
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Gimme an hour, and we'll be off.