It doesn’t show; it shows clean through: Features arrange into faint curiousity, fingers tense against the latch. Still beneath lamplight. For half a second he might excuse himself, No, this is Anders, I’ll just go fetch him for you —
He shuts the door, sets down a box. It croaks. ]
My lady, [ Isaac hasn’t written any merchants, wrote only two by Montsimmard.] You’ve the advantage of me. I regret we’ve not been evenly introduced.
[ If it's groveling again, he’d sooner know to whom. The family resemblance is passing enough to pass for something altogether different. He’d written more than one missive. Regrets that nearly so much as their subsequent neglect.
They'll shoot the messenger, he’d thought to tell Matthias, and they've sent someone nearly so young. If the matter demands attention, they've esteemed it (him) little enough to afford a practice round. A cat with a mouse.
Certain outcomes predetermined.
He thinks all this rather than think about the man on the wall. Acknowledging his presence would be a faux pas until pressed. This remains Isaac's territory, and a scuffle here would be unnecessary. There's a whole city to break his knees in. ]
[ Light, her feet find the floor again, as if she might curtsey for him instead of the reverse. (She doesn't. Isn't this a fun game?) ]
Lady Fabria. —Lady Eupraxia Fabria, to be quite exact.
[ In case the fact that they are numerous as well as wealthy might not have traveled as far as Kirkwall. Imagine me, looking like this at eighty-eight, is all that's in the lilt of her chin, but she's watching close, measuring for a reaction before continuing. ]
You wrote to us in Hunter Fell, about the Speaker.
That and the bow of his head (shoulders) could be gracious, respectful, if it weren’t only stalling. An opening of weakness; blood dribbled in the water. See what she does with it, and he'll how much more he need spill. ]
A rare thing, to apologise for good news.
[ Do they know? They have to know, they’ve gotten all the way here to make him say it. Does Ilias know? Of course he won’t. Ah. ]
Still, would that our acquaintance came under finer circumstance. Will you be in Kirkwall long?
[ The box rustles, something thwacks against it from within. Isaac doesn’t look. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It doesn’t show; it shows clean through: Features arrange into faint curiousity, fingers tense against the latch. Still beneath lamplight. For half a second he might excuse himself, No, this is Anders, I’ll just go fetch him for you —
He shuts the door, sets down a box. It croaks. ]
My lady, [ Isaac hasn’t written any merchants, wrote only two by Montsimmard.] You’ve the advantage of me. I regret we’ve not been evenly introduced.
[ If it's groveling again, he’d sooner know to whom. The family resemblance is passing enough to pass for something altogether different. He’d written more than one missive. Regrets that nearly so much as their subsequent neglect.
They'll shoot the messenger, he’d thought to tell Matthias, and they've sent someone nearly so young. If the matter demands attention, they've esteemed it (him) little enough to afford a practice round. A cat with a mouse.
Certain outcomes predetermined.
He thinks all this rather than think about the man on the wall. Acknowledging his presence would be a faux pas until pressed. This remains Isaac's territory, and a scuffle here would be unnecessary. There's a whole city to break his knees in. ]
no subject
[ Light, her feet find the floor again, as if she might curtsey for him instead of the reverse. (She doesn't. Isn't this a fun game?) ]
Lady Fabria. —Lady Eupraxia Fabria, to be quite exact.
[ In case the fact that they are numerous as well as wealthy might not have traveled as far as Kirkwall. Imagine me, looking like this at eighty-eight, is all that's in the lilt of her chin, but she's watching close, measuring for a reaction before continuing. ]
You wrote to us in Hunter Fell, about the Speaker.
no subject
[ He says, and means: Ah, it gets worse.
That and the bow of his head (shoulders) could be gracious, respectful, if it weren’t only stalling. An opening of weakness; blood dribbled in the water. See what she does with it, and he'll how much more he need spill. ]
A rare thing, to apologise for good news.
[ Do they know? They have to know, they’ve gotten all the way here to make him say it. Does Ilias know? Of course he won’t. Ah. ]
Still, would that our acquaintance came under finer circumstance. Will you be in Kirkwall long?
[ The box rustles, something thwacks against it from within. Isaac doesn’t look. ]