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[rowancrowned]

 

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[rowancrowned]

[ he doesn't want to fight. he remind himself of that.

(he is not one who has things hidden from him; gaps in his understanding needle at him. stop. draw back. you're not entitled to the little things she hides in the shadows.)

he looks, briefly, to the floor rather than at her. ]

And I... offer sanctuary.

[ don't do it, thranduil.

he exhales.]

Do I risk repeating her folly if we speak about the mundane workings of Skyhold, or recent events, or are those topics safe?

[elegiaque]

( when he puts it like that -

it does sound a bit mad, she recognises. a man - elf, she can hear him correcting her in her head - she's spent months avoiding as thoroughly as she could. that's who she wants to be near, right now, that's who instinct took her to - if he'd turned her away at his door he'd have been well within his rights to do so.

she tilts her head. studies him for a moment, instead of her wine or the ceiling or any of her own life choices, which honestly do not bear examining. )

I'm glad they're seeing sense finally about not having the Wardens at Skyhold, but I don't see why the rest of us have to leave.

[rowancrowned]

[ he is, when he wants to be, very good company. witty enough to carry a conversation, a font of empathy (genuine or false, those court manners-) and always, always free with drinks.

he does not shrink under her gaze, only looking away once she brings up an acceptable topic, a mutual thing for them to wrinkle their noses about. ]

It has been getting rather crowded, mm? [ and that's not just because he's sharing his room with a pony, no, he really prefers bill over other occupants, and he invited the outsider into his life. ] I have not heard good things about Kirkwall.

[ it's where yngvi comes from, isn't that enough? ]

[elegiaque]

I don't pretend to have a great knowledge of the city, but I daresay there aren't any good things to hear.

( That's about the sum of her knowledge of Kirkwall; it's fucking terrible. )

We're to the Gallows. What a charming name that is.

[rowancrowned]

Your grandfather will quickly remedy that, I am sure.

[ he's actually rather fond of romain, in fact, and cannot blame the man for putting it all to rights.

his nose wrinkles as he frowns, utter distaste. ]

Is that not the name for where hangings take place?

[elegiaque]

( She's sure, too, but perhaps not quick enough for her liking- and it grates, a little, to so easily turn to the solution of let her grandfather solve the problem. She's not needed him or her father or any of them for months, and now he's here, and it frustrates her how easy it is to slide into reliance.

She doesn't allow herself. So much so that they've scarcely spoken -

But that's as may be. )

One can only assume they felt very fondly about their mages, ( is her dry confirmation of what a gallows is, in any case.

Small wonder he blew that Chantry half to hell. Still. )