Oh, how charming! It's funny, I so rarely think of them—as if I and everyone I knew were still on apron strings themselves, though that is so obviously not so. When do you suppose you will have them? Outside of a dream, I mean.
[ She laughs softly and looks both deeply fond and deeply skeptical. ]
When my lord is ready, I imagine. I am far less skittish on the subject than he, although I have my own worries.
[ She lifts the cup and holds it in her hands, letting warmth emanating from it soothe her. ]
The war, of course, although I know myself to be perfectly useful behind a desk. What the state of things in the world might be for mages when they are of an age to manifest magic, if they do.
[ What steps they might need to take to disguise their forms as their father does, whether or not she could even carry a Vashoth’s child, what danger in the attempt. ]
But it is never a perfect time, and so, in a way, always one.
[Given the grim sense of the room mere moments ago, even that small bit of laughter serves to warm it. And Wysteria, helping herself to a little sugar, laughs too.]
Certainly. I should like to have at least two I think, for I had no siblings of my own and sometimes wished for one who I might play and talk to. But I suspect also that so long as I am here in Thedas that it is an unlikely possibility.
Mais, oui! Two at least. Or, if not, they must needs be close friends with mine. I shall have six, as my mother did.
[ Alexandrie's eyes sparkle with mirth as she sips her tea at length with exaggerated primness. It's a fine theatrical look until she suddenly convulses with laughter that all but forces her to spit her mouthful back into the cup.
As soon as she can manage, she explains through a half-splutter: ]
I have thought of the face my husband would have made.
[ Although it will be unfamiliar to Wysteria, it gladdens her heart to mimic it; the way he drops instantly from smug confidence to a slack and absolute blankness, his eyes wide and a touch wild like a startled cat's.
Then she laughs again, and not softly. It's bright and gay and hearty enough that she has to put down her teacup before it spills. ]
[She snorts again, and that snort becomes a proper laugh and then she too must set aside her teaspoon or risk upending its matching cup.]
Good gods. I wonder if all men everywhere are so stricken by small brushes with domesticity! Even poor Mister Ellis with his chickens in my garden can hardly bear the thought.
Ugh, no! [Though she is still laughing, all good cheer for Alexandrie's fowl impersonations.] I have told him I refuse to have little to do with them save for the letting of the space. No, Mister Ellis is deeply afflicted by—
[Tragedy? No, that's far too grim.]
He guards his feelings very carefully, [she decides.] And though he is clearly predisposed to the notion, the mere mention of such gentle things makes me feel as if I've clobbered him with a great brick.
—Oh, but you mustn't say anything about it anywhere else! Given the man's aforementioned delicacy, I feel a little like I've betrayed him just by saying anything.
[ Resolutely: ] On my honour, I shall say nothing to anyone.
[ For a moment Alexandrie is genuinely (and pleasantly) surprised to find that she did not swear upon Geneviève's honour as she is wont to do. That she felt she had, in fact, somehow come across enough of her own.
She tucks the moment away with a sort of quiet pride, and quickly returns with relish to the subject at hand. ]
But how glad I am you have said something! Have you told no-one else? I think I should burst if I were to have such a Warden keeping chickens in my garden and be obliged to tell no-one of it.
[If there are people in the world who might doubt the Lady Asgard's honor, surely Wysteria cannot among their number. No, the flicker of mixed amusement and confusion must be for something else.]
Tell—? No. No, you are the very first to hear of it. Save of course for Misters Stark and Fitz, but they are frequent visitors to my house and so must know already.
[She hesitates. And then takes another sip from her cup, before setting it aside and sitting a little straighter in her chair. Very well. If she is that fascinated—]
There are six of them. Four brown and two white. Their names are Lady Shayna, Queen Mairyn, Arl Myrrdin, Ser Tillers, Marterel the Elusive, and of course Aldenon the great mage himself. —Though they are all hens, for a rooster was deemed too much of a nuisance to keep in a Hightown garden. I believe Mister Ellis built their coop himself, and he is there every morning to tend to them. I forget entirely what breed of chicken they're meant to be, but I believe as far as chickens go that they are all rather well behaved. If you care to take in a flock of your own, I'm sure he would be very happy to advise you.
[ Alexandrie's eyebrows rise with some speed as her friend jumps abruptly from having one suitor to six, categorized by colour, peppered with peers and royalty heretofore unknown, none of them Mister Ellis—
and all of them hens, the discovery of which makes her actually snort a laugh through her nose, her smile widening a bit more with every statement made thereafter. ]
Oh, I am in agreement entire; roosters are often too much a nuisance to keep. Although if they are well-behaved and visit every morning, perhaps with the larger purpose of catching sight of a particularly fascinating hen who has mistaken her friend's query to be about chickens rather than suitors—
[Wysteria laughs heartily at her own misinterpretation. It's an automatic thing, full and well rounded. And then she falters. Her face goes briefly pale, then very hot in the space of a half second, and when she laughs again, it is quite shrill.]
Put that gleam in your eye away this instant, Lady Asgard.
[Her scoff is full throated, deep from out of her chest.]
I swear to you. Mister Ellis has no inclination. And neither do I, for that matter. [Which sounds paltry even to her ear.] In fact, I may happily prove it to you.
[Happy? Well, perhaps not exactly that. But then again, why not? To speak some word of it does the most happy dual purpose of both legitimizing the arrangement in question (which is vital to the scheme) and proving her word in this moment. And she is quite confident that Alexandrie will forgive the misrepresentation later once the truth inevitably arises.
With Alexandrie's eyes still closed, Wysteria leans slightly forward across the narrow table.]
I should say nothing for it is presently quite secret. I have hardly begun to make the arrangements and in fact have spoken no word to it to anyone else at all. [Lowering her voice to the pitch of conspiracy, she says,] However, it just so happens that I am connected to someone. Someone else. Indeed, he and I intend to see it made legally so very soon.
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Oh, how charming! It's funny, I so rarely think of them—as if I and everyone I knew were still on apron strings themselves, though that is so obviously not so. When do you suppose you will have them? Outside of a dream, I mean.
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When my lord is ready, I imagine. I am far less skittish on the subject than he, although I have my own worries.
[ She lifts the cup and holds it in her hands, letting warmth emanating from it soothe her. ]
The war, of course, although I know myself to be perfectly useful behind a desk. What the state of things in the world might be for mages when they are of an age to manifest magic, if they do.
[ What steps they might need to take to disguise their forms as their father does, whether or not she could even carry a Vashoth’s child, what danger in the attempt. ]
But it is never a perfect time, and so, in a way, always one.
Have you ever considered the thought?
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Certainly. I should like to have at least two I think, for I had no siblings of my own and sometimes wished for one who I might play and talk to. But I suspect also that so long as I am here in Thedas that it is an unlikely possibility.
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[ Alexandrie's eyes sparkle with mirth as she sips her tea at length with exaggerated primness. It's a fine theatrical look until she suddenly convulses with laughter that all but forces her to spit her mouthful back into the cup.
As soon as she can manage, she explains through a half-splutter: ]
I have thought of the face my husband would have made.
[ Although it will be unfamiliar to Wysteria, it gladdens her heart to mimic it; the way he drops instantly from smug confidence to a slack and absolute blankness, his eyes wide and a touch wild like a startled cat's.
Then she laughs again, and not softly. It's bright and gay and hearty enough that she has to put down her teacup before it spills. ]
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Good gods. I wonder if all men everywhere are so stricken by small brushes with domesticity! Even poor Mister Ellis with his chickens in my garden can hardly bear the thought.
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[ Up go her eyebrows, and she resettles in her seat in a rather appropriately hen-like manner. ]
I must hear about this immediately.
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[Tragedy? No, that's far too grim.]
He guards his feelings very carefully, [she decides.] And though he is clearly predisposed to the notion, the mere mention of such gentle things makes me feel as if I've clobbered him with a great brick.
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[ It's said quite warmly. ]
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[ Alexandrie clucks thoughtfully, miming the tap of finger to lips (so as not to stain her glove) and then delivers a gasp of epiphany. ]
What about as a tamer of Wardens? Domestication of wild griffons is a laudable affair, I should think.
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[Cue a smug sip of tea.]
—Oh, but you mustn't say anything about it anywhere else! Given the man's aforementioned delicacy, I feel a little like I've betrayed him just by saying anything.
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[ For a moment Alexandrie is genuinely (and pleasantly) surprised to find that she did not swear upon Geneviève's honour as she is wont to do. That she felt she had, in fact, somehow come across enough of her own.
She tucks the moment away with a sort of quiet pride, and quickly returns with relish to the subject at hand. ]
But how glad I am you have said something! Have you told no-one else? I think I should burst if I were to have such a Warden keeping chickens in my garden and be obliged to tell no-one of it.
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Tell—? No. No, you are the very first to hear of it. Save of course for Misters Stark and Fitz, but they are frequent visitors to my house and so must know already.
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[ Punctuated by the emphatic settle of her hands in her lap— ]
so you must tell me everything.
Save what you deem would cause you to feel as if you are committing a terrible betrayal, of course.
[ Normal betrayals are okay. ]
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[She hesitates. And then takes another sip from her cup, before setting it aside and sitting a little straighter in her chair. Very well. If she is that fascinated—]
There are six of them. Four brown and two white. Their names are Lady Shayna, Queen Mairyn, Arl Myrrdin, Ser Tillers, Marterel the Elusive, and of course Aldenon the great mage himself. —Though they are all hens, for a rooster was deemed too much of a nuisance to keep in a Hightown garden. I believe Mister Ellis built their coop himself, and he is there every morning to tend to them. I forget entirely what breed of chicken they're meant to be, but I believe as far as chickens go that they are all rather well behaved. If you care to take in a flock of your own, I'm sure he would be very happy to advise you.
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and all of them hens, the discovery of which makes her actually snort a laugh through her nose, her smile widening a bit more with every statement made thereafter. ]
Oh, I am in agreement entire; roosters are often too much a nuisance to keep. Although if they are well-behaved and visit every morning, perhaps with the larger purpose of catching sight of a particularly fascinating hen who has mistaken her friend's query to be about chickens rather than suitors—
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[Wysteria laughs heartily at her own misinterpretation. It's an automatic thing, full and well rounded. And then she falters. Her face goes briefly pale, then very hot in the space of a half second, and when she laughs again, it is quite shrill.]
Oh. Oh no. That is not at all the way of things.
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[Her scoff is full throated, deep from out of her chest.]
I swear to you. Mister Ellis has no inclination. And neither do I, for that matter. [Which sounds paltry even to her ear.] In fact, I may happily prove it to you.
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There, it is away.
[ From her eyes, at least. Her smile contains the same pleased mischief. ]
What happy proof shall I have?
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With Alexandrie's eyes still closed, Wysteria leans slightly forward across the narrow table.]
I should say nothing for it is presently quite secret. I have hardly begun to make the arrangements and in fact have spoken no word to it to anyone else at all. [Lowering her voice to the pitch of conspiracy, she says,] However, it just so happens that I am connected to someone. Someone else. Indeed, he and I intend to see it made legally so very soon.
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How Orlesian of you! Arranging for a husband of convenience and patiently domesticating a Warden!
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[Appalled, mortified, delighted. Definitively: a shriek.]
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What? I am proud! I shall tell no-one.
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[But she is laughing, all (horrified) good humor.]
You are truly monstrous, Lady Asgard. I take it as an infringement upon my very honor.
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