[Crystals are for people without a healthy level of paranoia. So some evening, not so far removed from this one, Flint appears conveniently at the top of the stairs which Isaac is climbing.]
I'd like to discuss what else you and your colleagues might require for handling this outbreak. I'll walk with you, unless you think it's a conversation better had in my office.
[ if you shine a light at a deer, it stops stock-still; refuses motion. perhaps it's bewilderment: the sudden flare of daylight beneath stars. or maybe it's a sort of will, its great crested skull frozen with the business of hope. belief. if one is certain enough in their safety, who's to say it isn't so?
well, anyone with a fucking sword.
isaac doesn't freeze, does start; a jolt that begins at the eyes and finds his feet before brain. instinct carries him down a step — but there's no fear in his face. his hands dust loose in gesture, tuck cigarette back into sleeve.
courtesies. ]
Commander, [ up, again, a boot ground discreetly into dropped spark. ] In truth, I'd not expect much more of it. We're halfway to spring.
[(Does the dagger in his belt count for a sword? It's maybe a little premature to say one way or another, given the patience with which he waits there. But it's hard to say what a man in the woods intends. Maybe he's indulging in nature, or maybe he's waiting for that deer to wander where it will be easiest to shoot.]
Indulge me. I'd like to be certain we're prepared if hay fever's to follow.
[ Whatever this is, they aren't far from his room. He doesn't shut the door. They've no good reason to speak behind those. They won't be overheard: Leander is ill; the elf, too.
But there are appearances to mind. Courtesies.
It's tidy. Bare territory. The books, the leaves, the pins and pressed wings sprawl floors away and below; confined. His desk in the Infirmary is a perpetual tumble, here rests a lone book of stars. A locked chest. The boards pale about a plot of undarkened wood: There was another bed here. ]
We're well-supplied, given recent contributions. [ As Flint must know. I confessed it to the Division Heads. Isaac passes the chair for a poker. Chooses his words, ] I have concerns.
[Flint, passing into the room after him, sets his hand at the chair back rather than sit. His back is to the open door; if they speak in even tones, the conversation is unlikely to drift past him to the corridor beyond.]
You can't keep anyone from Darktown, [ The sister. Colin. That Rivaini girl, perhaps, she's eager. The iron dips, foraging into char. ] Nor should you — we need the friends. But an excess of charity signals Riftwatch isn't the priority. It's a convenience.
[ He's forgotten to restock the fireplace. There's nothing to use. Isaac sets it aside, turns upon an expression set wry. Askew. He wouldn't lay odds on Flint recalling his name, but his priorities are bare as Nevarran dirt. ]
Edited (ugh sorry fusses over late edits) 2020-03-02 09:13 (UTC)
[Something in the corner of his mouth thins. It should be a small thing behind the bristle of his beard, but the line of it travels involuntarily up the length of his cheek.
He could play dumb, let this conversation spin itself out before he tracks toward the reasons he's standing here at all. What are you saying? Instead, he shifts his hand on the chair back with a small metallic click of rings, and says,]
Are you aware Leander stabbed another member of Riftwatch?
[ As true a statement as any: No, not a punch, then. Not a spell.
Not an answer, either. His hand doesn't stray back toward the rack, its tidy line of metal. Not yet.
Light filters through the end of day, a small hallway window; high bars. Glints from the edge of one gaudy ring, or perhaps that's only Isaac's imagination.
[Then it's too bad Flint brushes straight past the point.]
He's to be followed until the other division heads are content he's unlikely to do so again. I'm involving you because the two of you are familiar, and I can't say whether it would be worth warning him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
I'd like to discuss what else you and your colleagues might require for handling this outbreak. I'll walk with you, unless you think it's a conversation better had in my office.
no subject
well, anyone with a fucking sword.
isaac doesn't freeze, does start; a jolt that begins at the eyes and finds his feet before brain. instinct carries him down a step — but there's no fear in his face. his hands dust loose in gesture, tuck cigarette back into sleeve.
courtesies. ]
Commander, [ up, again, a boot ground discreetly into dropped spark. ] In truth, I'd not expect much more of it. We're halfway to spring.
no subject
Indulge me. I'd like to be certain we're prepared if hay fever's to follow.
no subject
Imagine the devastation.
[ Whatever this is, they aren't far from his room. He doesn't shut the door. They've no good reason to speak behind those. They won't be overheard: Leander is ill; the elf, too.
But there are appearances to mind. Courtesies.
It's tidy. Bare territory. The books, the leaves, the pins and pressed wings sprawl floors away and below; confined. His desk in the Infirmary is a perpetual tumble, here rests a lone book of stars. A locked chest. The boards pale about a plot of undarkened wood: There was another bed here. ]
We're well-supplied, given recent contributions. [ As Flint must know. I confessed it to the Division Heads. Isaac passes the chair for a poker. Chooses his words, ] I have concerns.
no subject
You're not alone.
[Sounds like Go on.]
no subject
[ He's forgotten to restock the fireplace. There's nothing to use. Isaac sets it aside, turns upon an expression set wry. Askew. He wouldn't lay odds on Flint recalling his name, but his priorities are bare as Nevarran dirt. ]
no subject
He could play dumb, let this conversation spin itself out before he tracks toward the reasons he's standing here at all. What are you saying? Instead, he shifts his hand on the chair back with a small metallic click of rings, and says,]
Are you aware Leander stabbed another member of Riftwatch?
[Priorities.]
no subject
He didn't say who.
[ As true a statement as any: No, not a punch, then. Not a spell.
Not an answer, either. His hand doesn't stray back toward the rack, its tidy line of metal. Not yet.
Light filters through the end of day, a small hallway window; high bars. Glints from the edge of one gaudy ring, or perhaps that's only Isaac's imagination.
A frozen buck. He doesn't blink. ]
no subject
Does it matter?
no subject
no subject
He's to be followed until the other division heads are content he's unlikely to do so again. I'm involving you because the two of you are familiar, and I can't say whether it would be worth warning him.
no subject
Are you content?
[ has drawing attention fucked their little alliance ]