"Are you implying that I ought to seek him out and fuss at him for being quite so insensibly dressed? This is not the North, Benevenuta." She says with a sigh, the last brushes of magic smoothing away the ache of travel and drink. Attention now thoroughly diverted Adelaide turns from her desk to peer down at her, brow faintly quirked. The next waft of magic from her fingers is a low pulse of warmth that should spread and sooth a chilled body after so much time in the wind. "While I do not mean to think you delicate; it is not weather one rides or walks about with one's chest out. You are going to lose skin should you continue to do so and I will not mend it."
Not for such foolishness.
But the swipe of her thumb, the faintly fond twist of her lips says otherwise. "Tell me you did not burn anything while camping drunk."
"I am telling you I prevented the necessity," she says, sedately, her sharp, fox's face softened by her lingering smile. "We camped entirely without incident, and he has yet both of his nipples."
The warmth of Adelaide's magic eases some of the tension in her - not all, but enough to make a difference. She is not a bit chastened, either because she's shameless (yes) or because she doesn't believe Adelaide wouldn't (...that as well), and though her worry for Dorian hasn't quite dissipated...
It is easy, being here. And she is eased by it, for all that a part of her mind always works.
"I shall take your word for it, as I've no desire to go hunting after them." Well that might be somewhat untrue but she isn't about to admit to it. For now she has her work (a good deal of it) and the company of one of the more tolerable and sensible mages. It's enough.
Perhaps they might've gotten on well enough before the circles dissolved- the rifts, the war. That they can now is more than a little settling.
"Did the trip go well? Aside from your indulgences. You and Dorian were nonspecific as to why you were leaving."
"A personal matter ," she says, after a moment - not an awkward pause, when she's so comfortable where she is, but a moment of decision. It isn't hers to confide, for all that she carries her own lingering tensions from it. "Of Dorian's - I was...made aware, and so I accompanied him."
She weighs it a moment, how to say what she might say -
"It is the thing to do," almost as if she's testing the idea, "as his friend."
"That it is." Adelaide isn't terribly surprised the Northern Mages have thrown in with one another- their temperament and sensibility seem to mesh as much as their sense of fashion and propriety. Quite a bit and quite a little in turn, though it does make for interesting conversation and gossip among the apprentices.
She brushes a bit of Benevenuta's hair from her forehead, offering another low pulse of warmth.
"As much as tending to someone's hangover without chiding them for it, I suppose."
Benevenuta's little laugh is a charming thing, like the rest of her - she tilts a little to look up at Adelaide, still smiling. "Yes," she says, with lingering humour, "yes, precisely as much as that. I am very grateful. There has been not a single gesture."
"Perhaps a little chiding." She taps her fingers against Benevenuta's cheek in the barest of reprimands. "We are public officials, it does not do to be seen in such a state, blah, blah, blah."
The blah, blah, blah gets her another of those laughs, a breath chuffed out in amusement, resting her head back against the chaise beneath Adelaide's hand. "Oh, we were in the woods, Adelaide, there were no witnesses bar the fennecs. I walked quite steadily to you, and if I happened to have a headache, I'm sure no one could blame me in these trying times."
It feels like it's been ages since she's been able to be this easy with anyone. Maybe it's Northern charm. Maybe it's Benevenuta being as nonthreatening as humanly possible. Maybe she's weary of being so wound up all the time- she doesn't know. But she is glad for another laugh. "And what if the fennecs should gossip, mm? The trees have ears in those woods."
"Then the fennecs will tell them that in spite of everything, we are not untouchable statues of Andraste," she says, playfully light-hearted. "And the world will end. Cats will lie with dogs and fire will fall from the sky."
A considering beat.
"With slightly more frequency than it presently does."
"The Dalish might begin to wear shoes, dwarves may start to dream, and Fereldans actually begin to produce decent wine. It'd be the end of the world as we know it." She taps the tip of Benevenuta's nose, a teasing, chiding gesture.
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Not for such foolishness.
But the swipe of her thumb, the faintly fond twist of her lips says otherwise. "Tell me you did not burn anything while camping drunk."
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The warmth of Adelaide's magic eases some of the tension in her - not all, but enough to make a difference. She is not a bit chastened, either because she's shameless (yes) or because she doesn't believe Adelaide wouldn't (...that as well), and though her worry for Dorian hasn't quite dissipated...
It is easy, being here. And she is eased by it, for all that a part of her mind always works.
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Perhaps they might've gotten on well enough before the circles dissolved- the rifts, the war. That they can now is more than a little settling.
"Did the trip go well? Aside from your indulgences. You and Dorian were nonspecific as to why you were leaving."
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She weighs it a moment, how to say what she might say -
"It is the thing to do," almost as if she's testing the idea, "as his friend."
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She brushes a bit of Benevenuta's hair from her forehead, offering another low pulse of warmth.
"As much as tending to someone's hangover without chiding them for it, I suppose."
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Orlesian or otherwise.
(Besides the magical ones.)
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Which is only funny because it's true.
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A considering beat.
"With slightly more frequency than it presently does."
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