[ His very first thought is a kneejerk weary, Another one?
And then she mentions the notes. ]
Hang on,
[ and Strange abandons whatever he was doing, gets up, moves back to his study to start rifling through papers until he can find those training records in question, filed neatly beside GRANGER, HERMIONE. He reads and rereads the notes; some of them are in his own chickenscratch shorthand, near-unintelligible acronyms that he’s developed for lack of being able to write full-length notes for himself. Others are longer and more meticulous, written in an unfamiliar feminine hand, neat and tidy, scholar-trained. The more he reads them, however, staring down at the paper, there’s—
that feeling of seeing something that simply doesn’t make sense, and trying to make it fit into the right shape
—Tavane. This report must be about Tav’s magic, surely.
He pinches the middle of his brow, feeling a headache brewing. His brain, recoiling, pushing against reality and reality pushes back. How do you disprove a loss?
In the end, Strange’s thoughts keep circling back to the same somewhat-unpleasant idea. Another one. He knows who might be able to pull more information out of this newcomer. His next question for Ennaris, when it comes, is both about what he’s about to propose and yet it’s also— who are we, to each other? ]
no subject
And then she mentions the notes. ]
Hang on,
[ and Strange abandons whatever he was doing, gets up, moves back to his study to start rifling through papers until he can find those training records in question, filed neatly beside GRANGER, HERMIONE. He reads and rereads the notes; some of them are in his own chickenscratch shorthand, near-unintelligible acronyms that he’s developed for lack of being able to write full-length notes for himself. Others are longer and more meticulous, written in an unfamiliar feminine hand, neat and tidy, scholar-trained. The more he reads them, however, staring down at the paper, there’s—
that feeling of seeing something that simply doesn’t make sense, and trying to make it fit into the right shape
—Tavane. This report must be about Tav’s magic, surely.
He pinches the middle of his brow, feeling a headache brewing. His brain, recoiling, pushing against reality and reality pushes back. How do you disprove a loss?
In the end, Strange’s thoughts keep circling back to the same somewhat-unpleasant idea. Another one. He knows who might be able to pull more information out of this newcomer. His next question for Ennaris, when it comes, is both about what he’s about to propose and yet it’s also— who are we, to each other? ]
Do you trust me?