I have. It was the second place I went when I arrived. If you want to know the truth of a city, know its poor. But it was a stranger who was distrusted and could only learn so much, so I will be glad to join you tomorrow.
[ Agreed, that sorted. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over another. The writing tool in her fingers flicking quickly in an absent twitch, an inability to stay completely still at times. Her darkly gold eyes watching him, flicking over his face.
Not... entirely different to that cat on his shoulder. Even if that's not a comparison she'd make of herself.
Carefully, she picks her words. But they are forward, she looks at him, and she looks only at him. She means as she says, and does as she means. Like every problem life was a cavalry charge to be run at, led from the front until her throat bled from screaming war cries. Time had tempered her some, taught her patience.
But London burned, with the strength of that determination. She had wrought what no one thought possible. ]
Let me be... honest with you, for if this is to work, we must have honesty. I am Queen true enough, but ruling is different to me then how I see these nobles work. I work with these hands, and this body, no less and no more. I have walked slums no different to those of Darktown, lived in them as no one. I have been a daughter of a servant, gone hungry as it. I have been the wife of a King, and worn gold enough to make even this Empress of Orlais sick with envy.
I promise you and all those that look to you, those things are at your disposal as equally as they are to anyone else. And if you cannot believe me at my words, I do not blame you. [ How could she not? She might not like how Gwen had told it to her, but it was a truth. A stranger walking in making demands, as a Queen no less, was not how goodwill was built. ] But if you call, I will come with no more than my two hands if I must, and do what you need as best as I can. I ask only to give me that chance to try and prove that to be true.
no subject
[ Agreed, that sorted. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over another. The writing tool in her fingers flicking quickly in an absent twitch, an inability to stay completely still at times. Her darkly gold eyes watching him, flicking over his face.
Not... entirely different to that cat on his shoulder. Even if that's not a comparison she'd make of herself.
Carefully, she picks her words. But they are forward, she looks at him, and she looks only at him. She means as she says, and does as she means. Like every problem life was a cavalry charge to be run at, led from the front until her throat bled from screaming war cries. Time had tempered her some, taught her patience.
But London burned, with the strength of that determination. She had wrought what no one thought possible. ]
Let me be... honest with you, for if this is to work, we must have honesty. I am Queen true enough, but ruling is different to me then how I see these nobles work. I work with these hands, and this body, no less and no more. I have walked slums no different to those of Darktown, lived in them as no one. I have been a daughter of a servant, gone hungry as it. I have been the wife of a King, and worn gold enough to make even this Empress of Orlais sick with envy.
I promise you and all those that look to you, those things are at your disposal as equally as they are to anyone else. And if you cannot believe me at my words, I do not blame you. [ How could she not? She might not like how Gwen had told it to her, but it was a truth. A stranger walking in making demands, as a Queen no less, was not how goodwill was built. ] But if you call, I will come with no more than my two hands if I must, and do what you need as best as I can. I ask only to give me that chance to try and prove that to be true.