[ In other worlds- perhaps it matters more otherwise, but here? That distinction is plain. At least it has become such for her. ]
How can I undermine such a ringing endorsement?
[ Exactly. She can't. ]
Now that is being uncivil and would earn at least a slap if not a thorough dressing down. One does not say that about anyone, least of all someone that has fought for us without needing to do so. But- if you do not mind it, I shall continue to use it.
Well, I mean. Regina's just Regina, she kind of talks to everyone like that. And some people just say it without thinking, you know? Or it's meant to be kind of... affectionate teasing, or something. It's not... that bad.
( It is that bad, but hearing someone else say it makes her feel guilty. )
It does not matter that she treats everyone poorly, that makes her an ass and she will continue to be an ass unless corrected accordingly. Even if it is meant as a gesture of affection, it does not matter the intent in which it is said if it makes you feel as though you are less.
[ tl;dr ]
It is bullshit and I will not stand idly by and allow it.
Regina is definitely an ass. She's... also an ass that's gone through a lot. And helped save the everybody more than once, so...
( So? Red feels bound to cut her at least a little slack. She doesn't like Regina, she doesn't have much desire to be in her presence at all, and yet... she's one of them now, isn't she? She's not the bad guy any more.
She'd be happier about Snow embracing Regina back into her family hadn't felt like part of how Red slipped out of it. That, however, is basic self pity.
Lightly, )
Defending my honour now, huh?
( Maybe if she keeps joking about it then the feelings around this will be less complicated. )
That is beside the point. That she has changed, that she has become someone that saves rather than kills? Speaks well of her. But it does not give her a free pass to belittle you without repercussion.
[ Teach teenagers for ten years, you pick up a few hard lines that you do not cross. ]
I gave her the wrong coffee order, one time. Steep repercussions were dealt out.
( maybe not. )
Oh, well, you know. ( light, keep it light, just be silly. ) Getting run out of town with fire and pitchforks once or twice has fixed me with pretty low standard for social interaction.
( You don't have to, she almost says, but she feels acutely aware of how that stung Adelaide in the Fade and doesn't really want to test her ability to reach through the crystals and strangle someone. Because I'm a monster doesn't seem like it'd go better. )
I don't know. Maybe if I called you 'Addie.'
( jokes jokes jokes this is fine she doesn't feel torn about this subject )
Well that changes everything. [ She snorts. ] It is bullshit and you know it is bullshit.
[ Such a thing earns a glare, not- that. Picking at a part of someone they find monstrous. ]
...That is not equivalent in the slightest. 'Addie' is what my father called me until my magic manifested. Afterward it was my full name alone, as though I were no longer his child. Only one other person called me that and he-
( That catch is the thing that takes the air out of her. The apology is quick, genuine, and rings with the kind of prompt self-reprimand that comes with hurting someone and being horrified with yourself. Talk of coffe goes out the window, and she wishes she could snatch the stupid comment out of the air, like she could stop the potential pain that came with it. )
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I'm really sorry. I was an ass, when you... asked me not to use that.
( It had been a rhetorical, a tease, and now... well. Once again, Ruby Lucas, screwing things up with flair. )
It hurts. [ Still, like a dull ache. ] Both of them. The dog commentary with you makes you feel less. It picks at something you will not let heal- something you do not let heal because you do not feel you deserve it, yes? For me-
It is failure. I failed to not be a mage, and lost my father's regard. I failed to notice the signs that...ended my association with the other man. It hurts. But it is a different hurt. For me it is not something easily guessed and picked at. For you it is the obvious dig and thus, something you endure more often.
( Like you deserve it, and the only response is that she does, that the shoe fits, that she gets annoyed and rolls her eyes but never says anything because she's the monster people tell children hides under their beds. )
If I say that your dad is an ass would that upset you?
( Low and quiet and mad, actually, angry in a low-key kind of way, a quiet burn that she often puts out of mind but rears up somehow. Is there actually anyone out there who hasn't been screwed over by a parent somehow? Someone who hasn't been hurt by the people who were supposed to protect them? And yet you keep on loving them, sometimes, because you adored them and the adoration and the desire for approval mixes in with the hurt.
Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes. )
I don't think you failed at anything. You have a gift. I mean, I won't lie, it's a big, scary kind of thing, but it's a gift. What you can do is amazing. You're helping change your world, being here. The Inquisition is stronger for you helping. And I mean, I get... that's your dad or Orlais or whatever, but you didn't fail. Bigotry lost you something, not a failure.
( As for the other, she doesn't know the signs or circumstances. She knows hurt and heartbreak, but not specifics. )
A little, but I have not seen him in thirty years so- it's more the same upset that I would have if I found a fly in my coffee.
[ Her own wry twist at humor to hide the ache. She'd adored him. He taught her much of what it was to be a good noble, to be certain of her station but not a complete ass. To lose that at such an age-
It wasn't devastating, but it had left its mark. ]
Perhaps. But just as I did not fail because of what I am- you do not deserve to be told you are less because of what you are or what you have done.
[ With Robert- it is still not something she is comfortable discussing. She hasn't told many of him, of what happened. ]
( That's a sharp, twisting kind of hurt. She doesn't fire back a response, she waits and she exhales, and tries to wrap her head around something that isn'r totally insensitive. )
It isn't easy when the people you love let you down. I'm sorry.
( Quiet, steady. Kind of controlled, though that isn't the right word for it, when she isn't lacking control as a general rule, isn't hyper-aware beyond the Wolf. ) Maybe it'll get better, the situation with him.
( Or maybe Red should mind her own business, either or.
But she does laugh, even if it's quiet and not as happy as a laugh should sound. )
Oh, I don't know. When you're literally the monster that's inspired literature and parents to terrify their children you have a certain cultural status. Being told to take yourself for a walk is just part of the package.
( ha ha ha ha ha she hates being a fairy tale person sometimes )
It is a part of the system I am trying to change. Children show signs of magic and they were taken to Circles. Towers filled with templars that have the ability to nullify our magic. It is for our own safety, we are told- and to a degree? This is so. We wrote now and ten but it was never 'Dear Addie' as one would a child.
It was always 'Apprentice Adelaide' or 'Mage' or 'Enchanter'. Lately it has been 'Councilor' and there has been some warmth, I think, in his writing. Perhaps the distance was as much to protect himself from hurt as it was me. Perhaps he is an ass.
[ She manages a faint crack of laughter- something faintly brittle that she swallows back and tucks away. This is not entirely about her, not truly. ]
If I can look at the man that destroyed a Chantry and killed hundreds of people, a man that was as warped to me in their propaganda as you are in your literature- if I can look at him and still see a friend? If I can attempt to look upon him kindly as much as I am upset by what he did? If I can have mercy on him for what he is-
Might have been option d, all of the above. The Circles sound like they'd be a scary place for a kid to go. Maybe... it was scary for a parent to see their child be taken there, too. ( Softly, that, pensive, although she has a certain degree of what a dick still cycling in her head before she offers, a little more lightly, ) Hey, maybe I'll write him a letter and inform him that the correct title is 'Chief Captain Boss,' make sure he gets it right.
( Anders. Things that she has heard about and was horrified by and yet... they've forgiven Regina. She's pretty sure Anders crimes could pale in comparison to the acts of the Evil Queen. )
Right. ( How can she say this? With a quiet, cheeky kind of cheer, obviously. ) Well, you hang out with a spirit of Compassion, and I'm a dirty, dirty hypocrit. ( She's gotten very good at saying this stuff lightly. )
But, hey, sometimes I have good days. I just... wonder. If you start forgiving yourself and eventually you start crossing lines, or something. How do you forgive yourself for hurt you did for other people? That's not my forgiveness to give. Forgiving other people for wrongs is... I mean, it's not easier, but it's not like you're letting yourself off a hook that you probably have a place on, either.
[ Now that startles a soft laugh out of her, something less brittle, less uncertain. ] Please do, and inform me of his response.
Having a Spirit of Compassion as my partner has made me no less hypocritical, Red.
[ It has made her more aware of her own hypocrisy as it is a cruel thing to both herself and those she holds such things against- the continual weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders when she slips so far to either preserve her own feelings or stand on principle. Double standards are, apparently even for her, a thing. It is difficult to move past them. She might never manage it, she's made it this far without having to change overmuch without being forced into it. ]
Don't tempt me, my speciality is scandalising parental figures.
( Mostly her own, but you know. )
Maybe not, but I have the feeling that there's a reason a spirit like that'd choose to partner with you, right? You do more good.
( Annnnd a long exhale, and a laugh that sounds sort of-- well. Guilty. )
I don't expect anyone to have answers for me. I have to find those on my own. ( Which is, incidentally, why she left Storybrooke and tried to get back to the Enchanted Forest. Her pack, answers, a solution to whatever it was that was missing and made her feel so desolate. )
Sorry. I meant to call you with comedic observations about the Mire and instead we stumbled into a conversation all about me. Again.
It would likely take more than that to scandalize him, he has been at court and a player of The Game for longer than I have been alive.
[ How it is, exactly, he's managed not to get himself killed as well with some of what her mother does is something of a mystery that she refuses to contemplate. That is not her life any longer, for all that they are attempting to call her back into it. They had their month, it came to nothing, she is moving forward. ]
I...never truly asked them why. I suppose I've come to take them for granted. [ That they will be there for her when she has need of them, that she can call and they will answer. ] But...if you would rather not discuss yourself quite so much- I've some time while this potion brews. If there is any thing you would like to know of me, you may ask.
[ She may or may not answer but- if a shift in topic would help Red? She is happy to offer them both this distraction. The upcoming ritual weighs heavily upon her mind. Three for three they have been turned back upon the casters. They will need more muscle for the next. ]
Right. With the fancy party and the masks and everything? Sounds pretty intense.
( And petty. And... noble. Nobles playing games while people tried to put bread on the table and make sure those nobles didn't take their houses when they couldn't squeeze enough money out of them.
Not all nobles are like that, she knows that, and yet those memories from when she was a girl and had to steal from market steal leave a certain mark of shame on her. )
Maybe you should, I mean, if you've ever wondered. Could be kind of enlightening?
( Red hums, then, and settles herself back against the wall of this once-house that she's taken up camp in. )
Mmm. [ There's the sound of creaking wood as she shifts in her chair, of cotton sliding on worn silk as she tucks her legs up under her. The dull clink of ceramic from her mug of tea. The potion will take some time and she wearies of looking at her notes. This is...strange, but preferable. ]
Is that a thing one has as an adult? There are colors I find myself in more often than not, blues and whites which comes as no surprise as they belong as much to the Spire as they do my family's crest- red on occasion but that is less a choice and more an occupational hazard.
[ As a healer she ends up covered in red more often than not, should things be dire. ]
You are talking to someone who's gone by a colour since she was a teen.
( Laughing, though more at herself than at Adelaide. ) On the other hand my best friend is called Snow White and we used to - ( plot? ) - work with someone called Blue, so maybe that's just a thing back home.
Blue and white suits you, though. They're... calm. I mean, not to detract from your very impressive swearing when the moment strikes, but they're calm.
( more importantly: ) Still didn't answer my question, unless you think you're too cool and mature for a favourite colour?
[ And when addressed as such she's being called that more than once. It makes some strange sense why the house motto is 'Sans Tache'. Any stain shows doubly well on white. ]
One of my instructors was adamant that if one is going to be so vulgar as to sear, you might as well do it with precision and emphasis. [ She affects a somewhat stilted tone, more upright and posh, thicker Orlesian. ] 'In other words, make it count, bitch.'
[ The memory twists something fond and aching- she does not know if that instructor survived the spire. There are still so many she can't account for- it's distracting. But only momentarily. ]
I simply have not thought of it for some time. I think, perhaps- Violet. Not the more spring pastel lavender, but the sort that is close to indigo when the sun sets? Cool enough for me to get away with wearing, but close enough to red where it counts.
You make a compelling point. ( That she is going to ignore, that playful tone says, although she actually has zero ideas what the debate that are supposedly having could even be. It's in the same vein that she continues, scandalised. )
Wow Adelaide, and here I thought you'd never make a dog joke at me. ( She's the worst. Why is Adelaide even still talking to her. ) But it's true. Loses its punch if you over do it. You need to really work the enunciation for full impact.
( Red laughs quietly, and shakes her head. Violet, of all the colours. She doesn't need to go into the tales of her childhood rivalry with Violet, however. Utterly (not even remotely) serious; ) And as for violent, I like it. Approved, your favourite colour can stay.
( Humming, she considers her next question. ) This is harder without the same pop culture references. Normally my go to is, what's your favourite David Bowie record?
[ She was quoting! Adelaide scowls into her tea and huffs faintly, caught out and scrambling for footing- even in jest. After so heavy a conversation on whether or not a thing should be done or said- she went and said such a thing. ]
It is important to cite one's references.
[ Stiffly, though it eases somewhat when it seems Red is taking it in stride. With good humor. That is- that is good. That she has not mistepped quite so badly in this. ]
I shall sleep easily, knowing I have your approval. [ If she sleeps tonight at all. It is something of a toss up. ] Favorite memory? Ah- Before, during, or after the Spire?
I find myself slightly less concerned with your catching cold, now.
[ And slightly more in favor of the same, petty a thought as it is. Contrary to Red's voice, there is less teasing and more vague irritation- but only the default level of affront found when she missteps. It is not so infrequent a thing she's overly wounded. ]
One of each. Mm. Before...I was a child, so it is less clear.
[ She takes a moment and sips her tea, considering her options but one continues to come back around in bright, cozy warmth. ]
A benefit of having a noble family: we've more than one estate, yes? The one in Val Royeaux which is large and grand and has lasted through generations and on and on much like that as my mother would describe it- very much for show. Pristine and polished with not so much as a sprig of ivy out of place in the garden. But further north and east, close to Val Chevain we've a smaller estate- more a stretch of private land and something I thought was a cottage until I saw what an actual cottage looked like. On the shore of the waking sea. In Val Royeaux we had the family and the estate staff, maids and cooks and serving girls and valets- in the cottage it was only us. Family and perhaps a few footmen to help us unpack, guards that kept to the gatehouse. There we had no true expectations- we did not need to be perfect little noble children, we did not need to play the Game. My father would cook horribly, my mother would complain of how he burnt the bread and used far too much butter for the first day or two before she stirred herself to do the same.
It was a way to keep in touch with our merchant roots, or so they would say. I do not know how true that might be but- playing on the beach with my sisters and not worrying about if I was doing it right; swimming, laying on an old worn carpet that smelled of rosewater from where my grandmother spilled a jar when she was a girl while my father spun tales either from literature or his own imagination? It was lovely. They still spend time there, now and then- I would receive letters from my sisters and mother addressed from the cottage. Once Lilianne sent me a packet of sand and seashells from the beach- it was before my harrowing, I think I was, perhaps, thirteen? They all would pick at me so for not doing things properly before I was shown to be a mage. I think she was trying to apologize.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
TRUTH!!!
How can I undermine such a ringing endorsement?
[ Exactly. She can't. ]
Now that is being uncivil and would earn at least a slap if not a thorough dressing down. One does not say that about anyone, least of all someone that has fought for us without needing to do so. But- if you do not mind it, I shall continue to use it.
nay
( annnd Red sighs. Sort of. )
Well, I mean. Regina's just Regina, she kind of talks to everyone like that. And some people just say it without thinking, you know? Or it's meant to be kind of... affectionate teasing, or something. It's not... that bad.
( It is that bad, but hearing someone else say it makes her feel guilty. )
Please. Honey wolf at your disposal, Captain.
yay
[ tl;dr ]
It is bullshit and I will not stand idly by and allow it.
[ Ever. ]
Re: yay
( So? Red feels bound to cut her at least a little slack. She doesn't like Regina, she doesn't have much desire to be in her presence at all, and yet... she's one of them now, isn't she? She's not the bad guy any more.
She'd be happier about Snow embracing Regina back into her family hadn't felt like part of how Red slipped out of it. That, however, is basic self pity.
Lightly, )
Defending my honour now, huh?
( Maybe if she keeps joking about it then the feelings around this will be less complicated. )
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[ Teach teenagers for ten years, you pick up a few hard lines that you do not cross. ]
Of course. Why would I not?
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( maybe not. )
Oh, well, you know. ( light, keep it light, just be silly. ) Getting run out of town with fire and pitchforks once or twice has fixed me with pretty low standard for social interaction.
( You don't have to, she almost says, but she feels acutely aware of how that stung Adelaide in the Fade and doesn't really want to test her ability to reach through the crystals and strangle someone. Because I'm a monster doesn't seem like it'd go better. )
I don't know. Maybe if I called you 'Addie.'
( jokes jokes jokes this is fine she doesn't feel torn about this subject )
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[ Such a thing earns a glare, not- that. Picking at a part of someone they find monstrous. ]
...That is not equivalent in the slightest. 'Addie' is what my father called me until my magic manifested. Afterward it was my full name alone, as though I were no longer his child. Only one other person called me that and he-
[ Her voice catches. Stutters to a stop. ]
It is. Different.
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I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I'm really sorry. I was an ass, when you... asked me not to use that.
( It had been a rhetorical, a tease, and now... well. Once again, Ruby Lucas, screwing things up with flair. )
Are you okay?
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It is failure. I failed to not be a mage, and lost my father's regard. I failed to notice the signs that...ended my association with the other man. It hurts. But it is a different hurt. For me it is not something easily guessed and picked at. For you it is the obvious dig and thus, something you endure more often.
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If I say that your dad is an ass would that upset you?
( Low and quiet and mad, actually, angry in a low-key kind of way, a quiet burn that she often puts out of mind but rears up somehow. Is there actually anyone out there who hasn't been screwed over by a parent somehow? Someone who hasn't been hurt by the people who were supposed to protect them? And yet you keep on loving them, sometimes, because you adored them and the adoration and the desire for approval mixes in with the hurt.
Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes. )
I don't think you failed at anything. You have a gift. I mean, I won't lie, it's a big, scary kind of thing, but it's a gift. What you can do is amazing. You're helping change your world, being here. The Inquisition is stronger for you helping. And I mean, I get... that's your dad or Orlais or whatever, but you didn't fail. Bigotry lost you something, not a failure.
( As for the other, she doesn't know the signs or circumstances. She knows hurt and heartbreak, but not specifics. )
You didn't fail. You're human.
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[ Her own wry twist at humor to hide the ache. She'd adored him. He taught her much of what it was to be a good noble, to be certain of her station but not a complete ass. To lose that at such an age-
It wasn't devastating, but it had left its mark. ]
Perhaps. But just as I did not fail because of what I am- you do not deserve to be told you are less because of what you are or what you have done.
[ With Robert- it is still not something she is comfortable discussing. She hasn't told many of him, of what happened. ]
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It isn't easy when the people you love let you down. I'm sorry.
( Quiet, steady. Kind of controlled, though that isn't the right word for it, when she isn't lacking control as a general rule, isn't hyper-aware beyond the Wolf. ) Maybe it'll get better, the situation with him.
( Or maybe Red should mind her own business, either or.
But she does laugh, even if it's quiet and not as happy as a laugh should sound. )
Oh, I don't know. When you're literally the monster that's inspired literature and parents to terrify their children you have a certain cultural status. Being told to take yourself for a walk is just part of the package.
( ha ha ha ha ha she hates being a fairy tale person sometimes )
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It was always 'Apprentice Adelaide' or 'Mage' or 'Enchanter'. Lately it has been 'Councilor' and there has been some warmth, I think, in his writing. Perhaps the distance was as much to protect himself from hurt as it was me. Perhaps he is an ass.
[ She manages a faint crack of laughter- something faintly brittle that she swallows back and tucks away. This is not entirely about her, not truly. ]
If I can look at the man that destroyed a Chantry and killed hundreds of people, a man that was as warped to me in their propaganda as you are in your literature- if I can look at him and still see a friend? If I can attempt to look upon him kindly as much as I am upset by what he did? If I can have mercy on him for what he is-
How can you have any less for yourself?
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( Softly, that, pensive, although she has a certain degree of what a dick still cycling in her head before she offers, a little more lightly, ) Hey, maybe I'll write him a letter and inform him that the correct title is 'Chief Captain Boss,' make sure he gets it right.
( Anders. Things that she has heard about and was horrified by and yet... they've forgiven Regina. She's pretty sure Anders crimes could pale in comparison to the acts of the Evil Queen. )
Right. ( How can she say this? With a quiet, cheeky kind of cheer, obviously. )
Well, you hang out with a spirit of Compassion, and I'm a dirty, dirty hypocrit. ( She's gotten very good at saying this stuff lightly. )
But, hey, sometimes I have good days. I just... wonder. If you start forgiving yourself and eventually you start crossing lines, or something. How do you forgive yourself for hurt you did for other people? That's not my forgiveness to give. Forgiving other people for wrongs is... I mean, it's not easier, but it's not like you're letting yourself off a hook that you probably have a place on, either.
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Having a Spirit of Compassion as my partner has made me no less hypocritical, Red.
[ It has made her more aware of her own hypocrisy as it is a cruel thing to both herself and those she holds such things against- the continual weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders when she slips so far to either preserve her own feelings or stand on principle. Double standards are, apparently even for her, a thing. It is difficult to move past them. She might never manage it, she's made it this far without having to change overmuch without being forced into it. ]
I- wish I had an answer for you. I truly do.
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( Mostly her own, but you know. )
Maybe not, but I have the feeling that there's a reason a spirit like that'd choose to partner with you, right? You do more good.
( Annnnd a long exhale, and a laugh that sounds sort of-- well. Guilty. )
I don't expect anyone to have answers for me. I have to find those on my own. ( Which is, incidentally, why she left Storybrooke and tried to get back to the Enchanted Forest. Her pack, answers, a solution to whatever it was that was missing and made her feel so desolate. )
Sorry. I meant to call you with comedic observations about the Mire and instead we stumbled into a conversation all about me. Again.
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[ How it is, exactly, he's managed not to get himself killed as well with some of what her mother does is something of a mystery that she refuses to contemplate. That is not her life any longer, for all that they are attempting to call her back into it. They had their month, it came to nothing, she is moving forward. ]
I...never truly asked them why. I suppose I've come to take them for granted. [ That they will be there for her when she has need of them, that she can call and they will answer. ] But...if you would rather not discuss yourself quite so much- I've some time while this potion brews. If there is any thing you would like to know of me, you may ask.
[ She may or may not answer but- if a shift in topic would help Red? She is happy to offer them both this distraction. The upcoming ritual weighs heavily upon her mind. Three for three they have been turned back upon the casters. They will need more muscle for the next. ]
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( And petty. And... noble. Nobles playing games while people tried to put bread on the table and make sure those nobles didn't take their houses when they couldn't squeeze enough money out of them.
Not all nobles are like that, she knows that, and yet those memories from when she was a girl and had to steal from market steal leave a certain mark of shame on her. )
Maybe you should, I mean, if you've ever wondered. Could be kind of enlightening?
( Red hums, then, and settles herself back against the wall of this once-house that she's taken up camp in. )
Okay. Favourite colour?
( Red, please )
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Is that a thing one has as an adult? There are colors I find myself in more often than not, blues and whites which comes as no surprise as they belong as much to the Spire as they do my family's crest- red on occasion but that is less a choice and more an occupational hazard.
[ As a healer she ends up covered in red more often than not, should things be dire. ]
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( Laughing, though more at herself than at Adelaide. ) On the other hand my best friend is called Snow White and we used to - ( plot? ) - work with someone called Blue, so maybe that's just a thing back home.
Blue and white suits you, though. They're... calm. I mean, not to detract from your very impressive swearing when the moment strikes, but they're calm.
( more importantly: ) Still didn't answer my question, unless you think you're too cool and mature for a favourite colour?
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[ And when addressed as such she's being called that more than once. It makes some strange sense why the house motto is 'Sans Tache'. Any stain shows doubly well on white. ]
One of my instructors was adamant that if one is going to be so vulgar as to sear, you might as well do it with precision and emphasis. [ She affects a somewhat stilted tone, more upright and posh, thicker Orlesian. ] 'In other words, make it count, bitch.'
[ The memory twists something fond and aching- she does not know if that instructor survived the spire. There are still so many she can't account for- it's distracting. But only momentarily. ]
I simply have not thought of it for some time. I think, perhaps- Violet. Not the more spring pastel lavender, but the sort that is close to indigo when the sun sets? Cool enough for me to get away with wearing, but close enough to red where it counts.
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Wow Adelaide, and here I thought you'd never make a dog joke at me. ( She's the worst. Why is Adelaide even still talking to her. ) But it's true. Loses its punch if you over do it. You need to really work the enunciation for full impact.
( Red laughs quietly, and shakes her head. Violet, of all the colours. She doesn't need to go into the tales of her childhood rivalry with Violet, however. Utterly (not even remotely) serious; ) And as for violent, I like it. Approved, your favourite colour can stay.
( Humming, she considers her next question. ) This is harder without the same pop culture references. Normally my go to is, what's your favourite David Bowie record?
( A sigh, wistful. ) Favourite memory?
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[ She was quoting! Adelaide scowls into her tea and huffs faintly, caught out and scrambling for footing- even in jest. After so heavy a conversation on whether or not a thing should be done or said- she went and said such a thing. ]
It is important to cite one's references.
[ Stiffly, though it eases somewhat when it seems Red is taking it in stride. With good humor. That is- that is good. That she has not mistepped quite so badly in this. ]
I shall sleep easily, knowing I have your approval. [ If she sleeps tonight at all. It is something of a toss up. ] Favorite memory? Ah- Before, during, or after the Spire?
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( Her voice is rich with teasing, and she can't quite help a quiet laugh at Adelaide's huffing and horror. ) Although the reaction was worth it.
( What a jerk. )
Huh. What about... each? Is that too demanding? Or you can pick, lady's choice.
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[ And slightly more in favor of the same, petty a thought as it is. Contrary to Red's voice, there is less teasing and more vague irritation- but only the default level of affront found when she missteps. It is not so infrequent a thing she's overly wounded. ]
One of each. Mm. Before...I was a child, so it is less clear.
[ She takes a moment and sips her tea, considering her options but one continues to come back around in bright, cozy warmth. ]
A benefit of having a noble family: we've more than one estate, yes? The one in Val Royeaux which is large and grand and has lasted through generations and on and on much like that as my mother would describe it- very much for show. Pristine and polished with not so much as a sprig of ivy out of place in the garden. But further north and east, close to Val Chevain we've a smaller estate- more a stretch of private land and something I thought was a cottage until I saw what an actual cottage looked like. On the shore of the waking sea. In Val Royeaux we had the family and the estate staff, maids and cooks and serving girls and valets- in the cottage it was only us. Family and perhaps a few footmen to help us unpack, guards that kept to the gatehouse. There we had no true expectations- we did not need to be perfect little noble children, we did not need to play the Game. My father would cook horribly, my mother would complain of how he burnt the bread and used far too much butter for the first day or two before she stirred herself to do the same.
It was a way to keep in touch with our merchant roots, or so they would say. I do not know how true that might be but- playing on the beach with my sisters and not worrying about if I was doing it right; swimming, laying on an old worn carpet that smelled of rosewater from where my grandmother spilled a jar when she was a girl while my father spun tales either from literature or his own imagination? It was lovely. They still spend time there, now and then- I would receive letters from my sisters and mother addressed from the cottage. Once Lilianne sent me a packet of sand and seashells from the beach- it was before my harrowing, I think I was, perhaps, thirteen? They all would pick at me so for not doing things properly before I was shown to be a mage. I think she was trying to apologize.
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