sending crystal.

[degenere]

FORM: sending crystal
SENDER: Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé
RECIPIENT: everyone
WHAT: a complaint
WHEN: immediately
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: excessive whining

Inquisition.

[Hello again it's Val, very Orlesian.]

Or should I said, traitors. When a man dies, it is customary to gather the family together in the most comfortable--or uncomfortable, if it is a family that deserves punishing--and read aloud from his will. Even the most foolhardy of men must have such a document prepared. Or else how will he, upon his death, deal one last blow to those who would grub for his worldly possessions, and deal one last kiss upon the cheek to those who he loved so well and in his love, found deserving of his best things?

An example. In my will, I have written: to Freddie, I leave half my books. To Jehan, I leave the other half. And if both are dead--as they must surely be, if my will is being read, for we would have perished together, the three of us, united as we have been for so long, no doubt embarked upon some fantastical quest the like of which only a small number have been privileged enough to have lived--then I leave all of my books to the great library University of Orlais, the place where my heart truly resides.

In my will, I have not written: to the Inquisition, I leave the right to give away my position. What is more--

[Loudly, now--] I WAS NOT DEAD. I am not dead. I am alive. And now I must prove such a thing? Absurd! And then, the insult that compounds the injury: now I find that as I bear this grave indignity, I must also bear demotion?

It is unheard of. Uncouth. I suffer. By the Maker, I will make all suffer with me.

Comments

[bouclier]

Clearly not Inquisition important, or they would have known you yet walked among the living. Did you cross someone you shouldn't have?

[degenere]

[A pause.]

Something like that. Yes. Yes, very much like that.

[More certainly:]

And it did not involve the Inquisition at all! Really, they should be so glad to see me back and very much alive. I hardly feel welcomed. I feel rejected.

[bouclier]

[She sighs.]

I am sure they are glad you live, but there is still protocol. They couldn't very well leave your position vacant on the off chance you weren't actually deceased.

Did you tell anyone you were leaving?

[degenere]

I will say again: I could not. It was of the utmost importance that I be perceived as dead, for a time.

For a time. It was not so long a time! At the University, it takes ages to fill positions that are made vacant by death. There is a long, long process of consideration, and one might wait for years before one is informed of acceptance or rejection. How was I to know that the mighty beast of the Inquisition would move so quickly!

[bouclier]

Therein is the difference between academia and war. Of course it takes ages to fill positions in the University, no one's life might depend on that position being filled promptly.

[degenere]

Really? You would hardly know it. Please, do not tell me you, of all people, are on the side of the Inquisition in this.

[bouclier]

I'm not, entirely. But I may also be a little angry with you so I am being unnecessarily difficult.

[degenere]

Mademoiselle. If you are angry because of your worry, be angry no longer. I assure you, my life was a secret most essential. If I could have shared it with you, I would have. You must not take arms against me. That is what they want.

[bouclier]

If I were so easily manipulated to take up arms, I would make a very poor chevalier. Though you are going to have to write to my father. Your absence may have come up when I returned home last month for the birth of my latest niece. You know how fond he was of you.