[It was a great deal said, if nothing else. So many parts of it raise alarms in Salvio, or confusion, or simple contemplation. He cannot sympathize a bit with choosing what he would wear. The solution to that conundrum is simple: have less clothes to choose from. Plainer clothes. Robes. Utilitarian only, to keep covered, to keep warm in the winter and cool in the summer.
But clothes aren't the true topic, only a distraction. It is the need to make brand new decisions that strikes in Salvio most particularly. He is still thinking of the terrifying truth at this when he realizes that Wysteria has wound up her response and is looking at him in a sort of thoughtful but calculating way that reminds Salvio altogether too much of Enchanter Guardiola, who he has not had cause to recall in years.
It is very disturbing.]
Wha, ah. Well. I would not-- Uh, I would not call you ignorant. Certainly. It is not particularly germane, to the rest of it, but--
[But it saves him from asking what he keeps spiraling back to, as he considers her eventual point, all that she has said. There is really nothing else but to ask it--]
Does it comfort you, to think that so many people are frightened but pretending not to be? That... I prefer to come to, uh, a situation. A problem. I prefer to come equipped. To say only that it is good to care, about something, to have nerves-- [Well. A ghost of a smile flicks across his face, self-deprecating but no less amused.] --I am nervous. That is true.
It does not... feel enough. In a time of change. As you have observed, rightly, we are in.
[She starts, and then stops herself. It's a good question and warrants some real consideration rather than simply rattling off an answer. Think before you do things, Wysteria. You must measure your responses with logic and fact and education, not simply leap guided by intuition or feeling, says some voice who less and less sounds like anyone in Kalvad and more and more like-- well, someone else. Herself, maybe, though it's a difficult thing to recognize. She's never spent much time at all thinking at herself rather than simply talking out loud about it.
Eventually, her hands having at some point during her contemplation assumed the action of twisting the silver ring on her forefinger around and around, she says:]
Yes, I think I do. Find it a comfort. I can see why someone wouldn't - that the idea people like the Provost and Enchanter Amsel and all the leadership at Skyhold and maybe even whoever is picked to be Divine might be worried about their decisions the same as I am could just be horrible because, really, what do I know? But if they weren't just like that, - if they weren't frightened by anything, or if they were somehow more perfect or more suitable for their task than anyone else in the whole world... well, it would make something terrible happening to them that much more awful, wouldn't it? Because then they're very irreplaceable.
But I mean, the Herald died. And yet here we are with her, dealing with the rifts and fighting the war she would have probably led. And even Andraste was meant to just have been a person. And no, maybe it isn't good enough to just be nervous or to just know that everyone else is just as beside themselves as the person, er--, beside them. But I do think it's good to know that the bar - that is, that the standard of effectiveness and what any old person can do if they're very determined - isn't actually placed very far up at all. It makes trying seem useful. And I suppose it makes things like, I don't know, the battle at Ghislain going so terribly or even the poor Grand Cleric Agathe's death seem less devastating.
Not that-- [Wysteria hurries to add, growing very red in the face out of mortification] --not that it isn't terrible. It's very sad. And just awful for all kinds of reasons. Obviously. Uh. Here, [she pushes the plate to him] you should have the last piece of cheese.
[Salvio, accustomed to obeying orders, immediately takes the last piece of cheese from the plate. It's halfway to his mouth when he realizes, marks it for a potential rudeness--but she did tell him that he should have it--so then he decides to just go ahead and eat the cheese.
It does buy him another moment. Of course he could never hope to match Wysteria's conversation. She is like a dwarven wind-up toy in that respect, and her energy seems boundless--which is what has made it so remarkable when her words flag or slow in any way. If it were all written down, one might be able to make a study, to understand what it is that she says beneath all the rest of it. Not Salvio, probably. He is not good with that sort of analysis. But someone.
Once he has finished that bit of cheese, he can at last respond.]
I suppose-- There is a measure of truth in it, when... when it is put in such a way. Though the, um. The stories of the Herald have not carried much inspiration, for me, I am much-- much too myself, for that. But Andraste's, uh, personhood, has--is, or was, but it still is, in much--a comfort. That such a person might find the Maker's favor, so very--
Not that-- [Hurriedly, much like Wysteria, in that.] --I would not want such--such scrutiny, myself. Such divine scrutiny. Or any scrutiny, really, and I think that is much the problem of it, that-- to be so, um, elevated, so trusted, with this level of thought, and--responsibility--
[He gestures, helplessly. And at nothing, really, and rather like a drowning man trying to hail weakly for rescue.]
You have said that you have made a study, and read books of Thedas, and history. I was never particularly a student of history, but. A book of history is closed. It has happened. Never did I want to live in history. Or to be an interesting person. I think that I... often feel alone. In that feeling.
And I do not mean to, um. To separate you out, or call any attention, in particular, to-- well, but. I cannot imagine what it is to be a rifter and to find yourself within this-- [He grimaces, a little.] --well, this shit. A history that has only just begun to have something to do with you. Not of your will.
It's-- well strange is rather an understatement, isn't it? [She admits, tapping out an absent and restless little rythmn at the edge of the desk with only her forefingers.] But you know, I don't really mind the shit part. You know, the war business and all the arguing and so on. I know I should and Mr Rutyer has said a hundred times that it matters and of course he's right. Though, oh! Please don't ever mention to him that I said so. But all that is-- well, it's very easy to be academic about things that are new, I suppose.
No, if there is a thing that bothers me then it's entirely in-- [Here, a pause. Then:] You know, I don't know that I'd even be able to explain it. In the things that should be the same but aren't. Is that normal, do you think? It must be.
[Tap-a, tap-a drum her fingers against the wood once or twice more before she forces herself to stop.]
Oh look. I see we've done our due diligence now. [She moves to collect the plate, empty now save for crumbs.] Thank you for all your assistance with it, Seneschal.
[Mention anything to Rutyer, but then she moves on--]
Um, entirely in the-- What was the, um. Uh, I wouldn't--
[Know if it is normal or not, because he doesn't quite know what she's asking him to confirm, and then there's the plate, as empty and blank-faced as one of the moons, if the moons were blank save for a light dusting of cheese crumbs. Salvio looks down it, in some bewilderment.]
Yes. You are... [so confusing] You are welcome, Poppell. Um. Though, I don't-- Well. Yes. Um, and-- thank, you. As well. In return.
Oh, nonsense. There is nothing at all to thank me for. Speaking in very tech ical term, I've done nothing at all except delay you. [In a flurry of skirts and crumbs and her general impression, Wysteria rises from the seat with the plate in her possession. She tucks it smartly under one arm - smartly in the sense that it looks very jaunty indeed there; less so in the sense that it scatters crumbs in every conceivable direction.]
But, should you actually need help - with the filing or the sorting or sifting through the the box of complaints to weed out the nonsense or any of that -, then you should know I'm surprisingly rather good at all that. It's practically all Mr Ralston had me do, you know. --Not that you would. Know. Since you don't know him or-- [Spirits, his conversational affliction is awfully contagious. She's been here too long.] Anyway. If you find yourself at loose ends and in need of a spare pair of hands or a plate of cheese, I'm certain I can rearrange my very busy schedule to provide either.
[Ha ha, isn't she just the picture of wit and charm.]
[Salvio's chest tightens as crumbs scatter across the floor. He is, against all odds, feeling a measure better than when he had started this conversation with Poppell. His legs are still a little too weak to support him--certainly too weak to dash over and begin cleaning up the crumbs, as he truly in his soul wants to--but all the same.
He blinks, somewhat bewildered by all the rest that she has to say. As usual.]
Oh, um. If you have experience. In... in filing. There is always, well, work, to be done. Particularly for the experienced. Um, I will-- Yes. Perhaps. Later. Uh, so, that is, no, nothing else, for the moment.
Only. Uh. [He swallows, hard, but manages to get out,] Th, uh, thank you.
[Okay, that's all. That's it. He flaps a hand in Wysteria's direction, without looking at her, more panicked than dismissive.]
You're very welcome. [She flashes him a very bright and very sudden smile.] And thank you - for thinking of me, I suppose. In a professional capacity, obviously.
[And what more is there to say really. So Wysteria gives him a last nod and then sweeps from the room. She leaves the door fully open behind her, only to double back a moment later--] Sorry, sorry. Good luck. You'll do spectacularly. Good bye! [--to pull it shut.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But clothes aren't the true topic, only a distraction. It is the need to make brand new decisions that strikes in Salvio most particularly. He is still thinking of the terrifying truth at this when he realizes that Wysteria has wound up her response and is looking at him in a sort of thoughtful but calculating way that reminds Salvio altogether too much of Enchanter Guardiola, who he has not had cause to recall in years.
It is very disturbing.]
Wha, ah. Well. I would not-- Uh, I would not call you ignorant. Certainly. It is not particularly germane, to the rest of it, but--
[But it saves him from asking what he keeps spiraling back to, as he considers her eventual point, all that she has said. There is really nothing else but to ask it--]
Does it comfort you, to think that so many people are frightened but pretending not to be? That... I prefer to come to, uh, a situation. A problem. I prefer to come equipped. To say only that it is good to care, about something, to have nerves-- [Well. A ghost of a smile flicks across his face, self-deprecating but no less amused.] --I am nervous. That is true.
It does not... feel enough. In a time of change. As you have observed, rightly, we are in.
hope you like novels
[She starts, and then stops herself. It's a good question and warrants some real consideration rather than simply rattling off an answer. Think before you do things, Wysteria. You must measure your responses with logic and fact and education, not simply leap guided by intuition or feeling, says some voice who less and less sounds like anyone in Kalvad and more and more like-- well, someone else. Herself, maybe, though it's a difficult thing to recognize. She's never spent much time at all thinking at herself rather than simply talking out loud about it.
Eventually, her hands having at some point during her contemplation assumed the action of twisting the silver ring on her forefinger around and around, she says:]
Yes, I think I do. Find it a comfort. I can see why someone wouldn't - that the idea people like the Provost and Enchanter Amsel and all the leadership at Skyhold and maybe even whoever is picked to be Divine might be worried about their decisions the same as I am could just be horrible because, really, what do I know? But if they weren't just like that, - if they weren't frightened by anything, or if they were somehow more perfect or more suitable for their task than anyone else in the whole world... well, it would make something terrible happening to them that much more awful, wouldn't it? Because then they're very irreplaceable.
But I mean, the Herald died. And yet here we are with her, dealing with the rifts and fighting the war she would have probably led. And even Andraste was meant to just have been a person. And no, maybe it isn't good enough to just be nervous or to just know that everyone else is just as beside themselves as the person, er--, beside them. But I do think it's good to know that the bar - that is, that the standard of effectiveness and what any old person can do if they're very determined - isn't actually placed very far up at all. It makes trying seem useful. And I suppose it makes things like, I don't know, the battle at Ghislain going so terribly or even the poor Grand Cleric Agathe's death seem less devastating.
Not that-- [Wysteria hurries to add, growing very red in the face out of mortification] --not that it isn't terrible. It's very sad. And just awful for all kinds of reasons. Obviously. Uh. Here, [she pushes the plate to him] you should have the last piece of cheese.
love em thanks for asking
It does buy him another moment. Of course he could never hope to match Wysteria's conversation. She is like a dwarven wind-up toy in that respect, and her energy seems boundless--which is what has made it so remarkable when her words flag or slow in any way. If it were all written down, one might be able to make a study, to understand what it is that she says beneath all the rest of it. Not Salvio, probably. He is not good with that sort of analysis. But someone.
Once he has finished that bit of cheese, he can at last respond.]
I suppose-- There is a measure of truth in it, when... when it is put in such a way. Though the, um. The stories of the Herald have not carried much inspiration, for me, I am much-- much too myself, for that. But Andraste's, uh, personhood, has--is, or was, but it still is, in much--a comfort. That such a person might find the Maker's favor, so very--
Not that-- [Hurriedly, much like Wysteria, in that.] --I would not want such--such scrutiny, myself. Such divine scrutiny. Or any scrutiny, really, and I think that is much the problem of it, that-- to be so, um, elevated, so trusted, with this level of thought, and--responsibility--
[He gestures, helplessly. And at nothing, really, and rather like a drowning man trying to hail weakly for rescue.]
You have said that you have made a study, and read books of Thedas, and history. I was never particularly a student of history, but. A book of history is closed. It has happened. Never did I want to live in history. Or to be an interesting person. I think that I... often feel alone. In that feeling.
And I do not mean to, um. To separate you out, or call any attention, in particular, to-- well, but. I cannot imagine what it is to be a rifter and to find yourself within this-- [He grimaces, a little.] --well, this shit. A history that has only just begun to have something to do with you. Not of your will.
no subject
No, if there is a thing that bothers me then it's entirely in-- [Here, a pause. Then:] You know, I don't know that I'd even be able to explain it. In the things that should be the same but aren't. Is that normal, do you think? It must be.
[Tap-a, tap-a drum her fingers against the wood once or twice more before she forces herself to stop.]
Oh look. I see we've done our due diligence now. [She moves to collect the plate, empty now save for crumbs.] Thank you for all your assistance with it, Seneschal.
no subject
[Mention anything to Rutyer, but then she moves on--]
Um, entirely in the-- What was the, um. Uh, I wouldn't--
[Know if it is normal or not, because he doesn't quite know what she's asking him to confirm, and then there's the plate, as empty and blank-faced as one of the moons, if the moons were blank save for a light dusting of cheese crumbs. Salvio looks down it, in some bewilderment.]
Yes. You are... [so confusing] You are welcome, Poppell. Um. Though, I don't-- Well. Yes. Um, and-- thank, you. As well. In return.
no subject
But, should you actually need help - with the filing or the sorting or sifting through the the box of complaints to weed out the nonsense or any of that -, then you should know I'm surprisingly rather good at all that. It's practically all Mr Ralston had me do, you know. --Not that you would. Know. Since you don't know him or-- [Spirits, his conversational affliction is awfully contagious. She's been here too long.] Anyway. If you find yourself at loose ends and in need of a spare pair of hands or a plate of cheese, I'm certain I can rearrange my very busy schedule to provide either.
[Ha ha, isn't she just the picture of wit and charm.]
Is there anything else?
no subject
He blinks, somewhat bewildered by all the rest that she has to say. As usual.]
Oh, um. If you have experience. In... in filing. There is always, well, work, to be done. Particularly for the experienced. Um, I will-- Yes. Perhaps. Later. Uh, so, that is, no, nothing else, for the moment.
Only. Uh. [He swallows, hard, but manages to get out,] Th, uh, thank you.
[Okay, that's all. That's it. He flaps a hand in Wysteria's direction, without looking at her, more panicked than dismissive.]
no subject
[And what more is there to say really. So Wysteria gives him a last nod and then sweeps from the room. She leaves the door fully open behind her, only to double back a moment later--] Sorry, sorry. Good luck. You'll do spectacularly. Good bye! [--to pull it shut.]