therookery | the written word.

Nothing of the kind. You're welcome whenever is convenient.

( 'momentarily' ends up being closer to 'forty-five minutes later', but that's overworked life. with a sheaf of papers tucked neatly beneath her arm, she raps lightly on his door before pushing it open, presuming that of the division heads he is among the least likely to urgently need more warning than that in order to put away anything illicit and/or his tackle.

and if she's wrong, it puts her at an immediate advantage. either way. )

Commander?

[For better or worse, she isn't wrong. Flint is working - that much is obvious by the sprawl of paperwork and opened books on the large table at the center of the Division office and how he is bent over a series of charts.

But it isn't compelling work - or at least isn't demanding, as Flint tosses his instruments aside when she comes through the door.]

Madame de Cedoux.

Edited 2020-01-15 02:40 (UTC)

Would you agree that the language one speaks influences the way in which one thinks?

( she presumes that he does, but is prepared to elaborate on how he's wrong if he doesn't—regardless, she's already setting down her work on the other side of his desk to join him, taking his earlier invitation for a present one to sit and taking in stride the way that this effectively has him loom over his desk. it's familiar enough not to give her pause. )

Even switching between one language and another, as one person, one's thinking shifts with one's words. No?

[He sets to clearing away the papers and closing books to make room for her, though does yet sit.]

In a very literal sense, I suppose.

But not only, ( she perseveres, folding her hands together and smiling up at him. ) We think with the words that we are given. The way we learn to communicate with one another provides the framework by which we come to understand what is communicated to us—

What I mean to say is, I wish to take advantage of this. My intention is to better understand the Tevene language, as I understand common trade, to better design a code language that is—unintuitive for speakers reliant on those languages. To...

( she tips her hand. )

If we imagine that Tevene teaches you that you step here to go there, I would remove the step. I must know where they are, first.

I see.

[It's one of those slow, deliberating half agreements - the sound of a man who perceives the direction but is skeptical of the road leading in it. But he doesn't argue. Instead, Flint shifts the last stack of paper, draws up the high backed chair behind the desk, and finally takes a seat.]

And how do you imagine it would be best to describe this staircase to you?

Well, if we are to speak of what's best, I would like a secondment of linguists from universities in Orlais and Tevinter itself to put to work and the ability to exclusively annex the time of selected rifters I intend to use for resources in the building of this language. As I expect I might go whistle for all of the above,

( drolly, with a sigh, )

I have questions. And a series of passages I would like you to translate back and forth for me—I will have further questions during that process. ( apologetically: ) It may be tedious. It will also allow us to better disseminate and protect intelligence, and shed some light on the means by which our adversary does the same.

[Well. That's fine.]

Translation is easily done. Though you should be aware that I don't know much of Ancient Tevene. But I doubt much of Corypheus' force does either, despite what I can only imagine is their master's interest.

[But turning now, the instinctive dug in heel easing; let us assume for the moment that this is in some sense workable, and that at least half his reasoning for volunteering had nothing to do with either Alexandrie of House Asgard and her Altus husband, or the convenience of having Madame de Cedoux near to hand.]

Which passages? There is a particular form Tevinter employs for orders, official matters of the empire, so on. I expect you should have some approximation of that as well.

( the sunny smile she bestows upon him for his cooperation has shades of the young lady she must have been once, sitting in prettily appointed drawing rooms and making herself gracious in her little victories. there is a part of petrana de cedoux that will always feel compelled to maneuver men around her, and pat them lightly into place, and be pleased with herself for doing so.

it is still survival. it is only a different kind. )

I should, ( she agrees, but that isn't what she lays in front of him, which is a collection of assorted, unrelated and for the most part tediously unimportant passages from an assortment of books on a variety of topics. it's dull work, but it's walking before they run, ) and that is precisely what I mean in saying you are uniquely suited to the task, of our native speakers.

( not that she's going to turn down the asgards. they may add another dimension of perspective—alexandrie in particular, as someone who has learned tevene presumably later in life and by a more natural means than petrana herself. in truth, she is more valuable for that than her husband. )

The problem that I am first presented with is that the means by which I learned Tevene—to read and write Tevene, particularly—were not natural.

( that is a normal thing to say to a person. )

I can read a piece of writing in modern Tevene, which we must assume to be of more relevance to the sort of correspondence we are discussing than Corypheus's personal preferences and history. I might reproduce one, or write something myself, but I cannot... ( she struggles, for a moment, to put her hands on the right words. finally: ) I simply know what is correct. I did not learn what is correct. I cannot explain to you the connections. I don't require you to translate these because I wish them translated; I require you to do it so that I may understand the reasoning for your translations. Why this word? What do you mean, in that? Why should you phrase it this way and not that? What instinct tells you so?

[He has already begun drawing the pages to himself, attention dividing between rifling through them and keeping an ear cocked to her. But then there is clearly a moment where he stops doing that, and his full attention narrows back to a single point. Flint looks at her.]

Who taught you?

[And why does he get the impression that 'what' might have been the better selection as soon as he's said it?]

I did, ( a neat, prompt answer given by a woman not uneasy in meeting his gaze. ) As my tools I used an enchantment I had known only theoretically beforehand, and Atticus Vedici who was at that time imprisoned alongside his apprentice.

( he was often, in and out of his hearing, still given the title of magister. that she did not do so then and does not now was and remains a deliberate choice. he is no more a magister in the inquisition's custody than is artemaeus an altus: they are prisoners of war at best and property at worst. encouraging either vedici or those around him to see him as yet holding power had seemed unwise, whatever else she had thought of him.

in the here and now, )

I am happy to demonstrate it for you, if you like. I studied it when I was building what would later be the bones of the first published tome of magic in Lamorre, though I did not envision using it myself in a dungeon in another world.

No, that's quite all right. [Followed instantly by:] What did it do to Vedici?

Obliged him to tediously translate a piece of text for an hour or so in company, ( she says, wry, ) but otherwise, I suppose nothing. What I took from him was—I suppose 'shared' is a better way of describing it. He lost nothing in the process. From where he was sat, the primary difference between his use in my enchantment and what I propose to study here was how near I sat and that he took dictation.

[Flint regards her for a single studious beat, then carefully slides his attention back to the passages before him. He begins sorting them without much thought - this bit of essay with that excerpt of the Chant, that letter with this cargo manifest, and so on.]

Have you seen much of coded Tevene?

Less than I might wish, ( is wry, a little, in a muted sort of way; would that they had intercepted more venatori correspondence, frankly. it isn't none because handling coded information is quite literally her job, but probably if they'd had as much as she might like then the war would have been won already. ) I am increasingly familiar; I must bear in mind the habits we might observe from what we've pilfered in my own work.

[From behind the desk, he makes some small 'hm' of acknowledgement. It's the sort of sound a man makes when his attention is divided elsewhere, fitting with his review of the papers before him.

Then suddenly, he is on his feet and passing without explanation into the apartment adjacent to the office. The door is left open, affording some narrow bar of the room which exists beyond it: a chair with some sturdy quilt thrown over it, the edge of a dark rug. There is a thump, the sound of things being shifted, and when Flint reappears he is in possession of a thick stack of letters.]

These were recovered from the private collection of a Venatori agent. My best guess is that the key is some reference text - they're certainly no code I'm familiar with -, but if you believe they might be useful to you, then you're welcome to them.

the written word.

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