"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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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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