Which naturally warrants no comment whatsoever from the recipient, however there is no trace of the book either on the table or anywhere else in the house.
It is not until some days later, upon the resolution of one of their afternoons spent squabbling over how best to organize a series of collected data, or over schematics, or over the necessity of installing a vent flume in the workshop to suck noxious smoke out from the house lest everyone risk being poisoned from Wysteria's continued alchemical efforts, that she calls him back with an, "Oh, Mr. Ellis! I'd almost forgotten," after Tony has already passed into the garden.
A book is produced from her satchel. It's a rather pretty-gone-worn copy of an old Free Marcher story about a group of pilgrims in service to a knight as he makes the tournament rounds, and the story each of them tells while on the road.
"It is thoroughly allegorical for the spread of the Chant. Though I warn you to be wary of the Seamstress's Story if you cannot stomach a little sharp writing concerning the Chantry's gender politics. She is very brash indeed. Now go on," she rolls her eyes toward the door. "Mr. Stark will be waiting for you."
There is a little note pressed in the book. On one side is a reading list - half are clearly dry scholarly essays on the nature of magic and the Fade, and half are religious texts thinly disguised as adventure and romance novels - and on the other is written:
Mr. Ellis,
Thank you sincerely for the book. I have only read two or three of the stories so far, but they are all quite pleasant and dashing. You will have to give me a list of your own recommendations when you have the opportunity.
In the mean time, I have written down a few titles which I found interesting when I first arrived in Thedas. I'm curious what someone who has lived here all their lives might think of them. I expect that most of them are either too basic to be of real interest or the niche selections of someone who does not know the field and so is just making selections at random but nevertheless: I have enjoyed them, and I hope they are not too dull for your taste.
Most Sincerely, Miss W.A. Poppell
P.S. I must remind you that we have since reformed the rules for the proper handling of caustic and flammable solutions, and so the likelihood of me destroying your book is very low. Please treat this one with similar care. Thank you.
no subject
It is not until some days later, upon the resolution of one of their afternoons spent squabbling over how best to organize a series of collected data, or over schematics, or over the necessity of installing a vent flume in the workshop to suck noxious smoke out from the house lest everyone risk being poisoned from Wysteria's continued alchemical efforts, that she calls him back with an, "Oh, Mr. Ellis! I'd almost forgotten," after Tony has already passed into the garden.
A book is produced from her satchel. It's a rather pretty-gone-worn copy of an old Free Marcher story about a group of pilgrims in service to a knight as he makes the tournament rounds, and the story each of them tells while on the road.
"It is thoroughly allegorical for the spread of the Chant. Though I warn you to be wary of the Seamstress's Story if you cannot stomach a little sharp writing concerning the Chantry's gender politics. She is very brash indeed. Now go on," she rolls her eyes toward the door. "Mr. Stark will be waiting for you."
There is a little note pressed in the book. On one side is a reading list - half are clearly dry scholarly essays on the nature of magic and the Fade, and half are religious texts thinly disguised as adventure and romance novels - and on the other is written: