crystal.

[elegiaque]

FORM: Crystal!
SENDER: Gwenaëlle Baudin.
RECIPIENT: Anyone with a crystal.
WHAT: Summary of content.
WHEN: Currentish.
WHERE: She's in Halamshiral; wherever you all are.
NOTES: Optional side quest. Also I know the difference between Kirkwall and Halamshiral and didn't edit her misspeaking a day later. You don't know.

This is Gwenaëlle Baudin. I need to make a brief trip from Halamshiral to an estate in the Dales, and given what happened the last time I took that road—

( understandably tersely, for those who do know what it was that happened, )

—I would prefer to do it with several able warriors. I've some other contacts I can reach out to closer to hand if no one is available, but I'm not in a great rush to do it, so if anyone is bored of the unrest in Kirkwall and would like to make a bit of coin on the side while touring some different, exciting unrest in what I assume will be remembered as the last days of Orlais before it was overrun by Corypheus, do be in touch.

Do not bother responding if you can't bring yourself to refrain from embarrassing the Inquisition in the High Quarter.

Comments

[sorcerised]

[ Well, that's that then. ]

All right. I'm sorry, then. I hope your trip is a success, regardless.

[elegiaque]

Thank you.

[sorcerised]

Good luck.

[elegiaque]

( she manages not to say presumably without a dragon they'll need less of it, but it's a near thing. the small victories of gwenaëlle refraining have to be noted when they happen, because so often they do not happen. )

Perhaps all the bandits will be busy in the north, raiding supply trains.

[sorcerised]

Well, I think that's unlikely, but you might better direct that sarcasm at someone who isn't willing to help.

[ He's not the one turning her down here, okay!! ]

I can't just take off for a week and leave her, I'm responsible for her. We could both do with getting out of Kirkwall, and we could both help you. It's up to you if that's not what you want.

[elegiaque]

( mildly incredulously, ) Because there is no possible reason for me to have made a joke on that subject except to be rude to you.

( like, say, because she's still anxious about traveling, stressed, and this once inclined to make an effort to lighten the mood after so firmly declining his aid. )

Andraste forgive me for failing to realise the center of the universe has no sense of humor.

[sorcerised]

[ Relaxing a little. ]

It probably does. I'm more of an outlying meterorite. Don't get many jokes out there.

I really am sorry. Is there a reason why the Dalish targeted you before?

[elegiaque]

Because they were worthless opportunistic murderers in want of being put down.

( —so much for the lighter mood. )

[sorcerised]

Any say I'd feel differently in your shoes.

Do you absolutely need to go back?

[elegiaque]

It'll be a brief visit. The last, I expect.

( a pause, then: )

Everyone involved in that is dead, but I'm inclined to take precautions. We might not be in the grip of a convenient civil war, but out of the way parts of Orlais...

( dalish aren't the only opportunists out there. )

[sorcerised]

The Dalish might not be the only ones who don't need an excuse.

[ She's not wrong. It would be far better to travel with a group. ]

Look, if you change your mind, my offer will stand. It's all right if you don't, just. In case you do.

[elegiaque]

You mean well.

( that's as kind as she's prepared to be, on that matter. it doesn't seem worth it to explicitly lay out the problem; the fact he doesn't already understand it is half the problem, in itself makes him unsuitable. )

[sorcerised]

I really do. I don't want you to get hurt.

[ He hasn't known her before now, but if she did get hurt, he knows he'd feel the weight of not having been there. It isn't an easy choice.

Iessa still has to win. He can't leave her alone in a place so hostile to her kind as this. ]

Or the rest of your family. I hope they'll be safe.

[elegiaque]

( sisters: dead. mothers: dead. father: seeking death like an old friend. husband: maybe dead when she gets her fucking hands on him—

her brother's probably fine. not speaking to her, but fine. )

I appreciate the thought. I'm sure Voss, Ricart and Lakshmi will be more than adequate to the job.

[sorcerised]

I'm sure they will.

[ Who's sure?! He doesn't know them any more than he knows her. ]

No more than a week, you said?

[rathercommon]

You haven't got any influence over him?

[esquive]

[Well isn't that all sensible. Or a familiar enough breed of skepticism and paranoia-- caution that it holds enough water to satisfy his curiosity.]

Of course, mademoiselle. Then consider it practically done already. I'll see to the other two and meet you as soon as the way allows for.

[shri]

[ Low fucking whistle. That's not bad at all. ]

I will be in contact with them. Do you know if either of them happen to be near the Gallows?

[toujoursdroit]

[Bone dry:]

If you had mentioned your plans in advance, you could have had several guards at your disposal for the entirety of your journey.

[elegiaque]

No.

( It's Complicated, but

she tried. )

[elegiaque]

If it takes me longer than a week in the Dales, I may need to beg them of you—

( if her planned escort has to leave. hi, bon-papa. )

[rathercommon]

[ A huff. ]

Then what about his commanding officers? Can't you tell them he's incompetent?

[elegiaque]

He isn't. So. It wouldn't be very convincing. What he is, is an old man who has behaved appallingly to his own body for years, who wants to die.

( and nothing about any of it is straightforward. )

[rathercommon]

I thought you said he was a drunk.

[elegiaque]

If someone drinks that much for long enough and manages to carry on their professional life in the meantime, either they are good at something or they're so incompetent they'd never get as far as he has. If it were as easy as you want it to be, he wouldn't be there at all, would he. I could write a series of very impassioned letters about his incompetence and unfitness for his position, and the best that would happen would be that someone would read them, reflect on how sweet it is some silly little girl wishes to protect her father from war, or possibly see it in a worse light than that, depending on their particular attitude to the war—

And nothing changes, except that someone gets a laugh out of it before he dies. Remind me why any of this is any of your fucking business, again.