It's with no small relief that Isaac finds himself climbing not the steps of the central tower, but those that wind toward Riftwatch's rank and file. He's no particular desire to stumble upon any of the Heads today.
How many men live apart their wives? Enough. There are estates and shacks the world over with two beds, rooms, wings.
"Lady Venaras," As Rutyer has himself been absorbed. Lord Venaras; Lady Rutyer — difficult to say which would be the better joke. The details of each as vague as they are vaguely unpleasant. Byerly has been, at least, more formally and thoroughly disowned. "It's been too long."
As though she hasn't seen him in apron a day or so prior.
It's very easy to settle and prepare tea, to mix things together and flutter around her room. It's not quite what she might have imagined, being a lady, but she is more than aware that she is a person of the Inquisition first - or, rather, Riftwatch - and a noble second. She's not even certain that her family counts her as one of them now, given her rather interesting marriage.
Byerly is the perfect husband and she is more than content to have 'settled' for him.
She turns at the voice, offering a careful and gentle curtsey before she sets the tea on the table, motioning for him to settle.
"Darling, please, sit. Do we really need the formalities?"
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(not rutyer. that strikes unlikely. she can't have confused him with anders, though in the man's absence perhaps any blonde will do) ]
Of course. Your place or mine?
[ is a joke. one doesn't invite a young married woman to their rooms, and he's been often enough at the docks of late — this fucking grippe —
he sounds a great deal warmer than paranoia would indicate. chalk it up to practice. ]
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And nosey, in turn? ]
Oh, either will do. I doubt Byerly will mind either way.
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[ two can snoop. ]
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ackshun
How many men live apart their wives? Enough. There are estates and shacks the world over with two beds, rooms, wings.
"Lady Venaras," As Rutyer has himself been absorbed. Lord Venaras; Lady Rutyer — difficult to say which would be the better joke. The details of each as vague as they are vaguely unpleasant. Byerly has been, at least, more formally and thoroughly disowned. "It's been too long."
As though she hasn't seen him in apron a day or so prior.
no subject
Byerly is the perfect husband and she is more than content to have 'settled' for him.
She turns at the voice, offering a careful and gentle curtsey before she sets the tea on the table, motioning for him to settle.
"Darling, please, sit. Do we really need the formalities?"