reckoner: (019. ᴄʟɪᴍʙɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟs)
ᴠɪᴅᴀʀ ᵍ̵ᵃ̶ᵉ̴ˡ̷ᶦ̴ᵒ̷ᵇ̵ᵃ̶ᵘ̸ᵈ̸ᵘ̷ᶦ̴ⁿ̸ ([personal profile] reckoner) wrote in [community profile] spellgrinders 2017-10-06 12:17 am (UTC)

I don't have a letter.

[ At this rate, he will be reduced to monosyllabic repetition. The thought does not perturb, however little it suits a man whose position before death had been inspector, and after, less official but no less dedicated to rooting out the truth. If truth of a very different kind. Gaelio can see well enough that this is the sum of the truth, as far as this guy knows, and that he's doing his best.

In any case, if the young man brandishes a letter, or indicates he has got, he'll have to ask to see it.

But. Something flickers over his mouth, a lifting twitch at a corner. That in a situation like this, the word chosen was that... ]


Cool, hm. I thought covens were wicked.

[ Waking in a forest rather than the cold metal of a fleet's spaceship, encountering a wild boar that seemed to lose sight of him just after he'd hoped it might, and now informed of de facto imprisonment and witches. Not a dream? He hasn't got this much imagination, even in dreams. But it's all so absurd that his spike of focused frustration at the notion of stuck cedes, for the moment, to curiosity ]

And with an invitation like this, it doesn't sound like we have a choice. Did she tell you where they are?

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