[IC/OOC] Fade Rift Inbox & Contact

[faithlikeaseed]

(( Need to get a hold of Myr? Drop him a line. Notes, in-person visits, sending crystals, spooky Fade dream shenanigans, you name it. Just specify the type of contact in the first comment of the thread and away we go.

Need to get a hold of the player? Plagueheart#0051 @ Discord or a DW PM is the easiest! ))

Comments

[faithlikeaseed]

"The grand clerics come together and elect her--or would, in the ordinary way of things." Such is his determination on this he can keep the faint twinge of melancholy from his voice. "Though the College can be months about a choice, discussing the matter and letting the Maker's inspiration work until they've come to a unanimous decision.

"But--there's always outside influences involved in the choice," and there's something of disapproval to how he says that--but it's useful now, so let it be, "and they've been known to bend to popular sentiment or...other kinds of persuasion. That's who we'd need to push, if we do push anyone--"

Well. He's already said once he'd prefer a cleaner solution, without coercion; no use in vain repetition. He tips his face down as if regarding the table. "--Well. It's something the Inquisition's already at work on; a Divine who's friendly to us would make all the difference in working with the Chantry."

[nadasharillen]

"I suppose any Divine friendly to the Inquisition would be a more worldly woman by necessity," muses Nari, "from whom do they choose? One of their own?"

[faithlikeaseed]

"She would--or more practical, at the very least." He turns the thought over in his head, not knowing if he likes it. Justinia had been--well, worldly would have described her, in some ways, wouldn't it? But never out of touch with the Maker's will--

"Usually, though there's been a few who weren't. The Maker moves in mysterious ways, you know." There's a wry twist to his mouth at that. "And accomplishes His will with what He has to hand."

[nadasharillen]

There's a pause as she mulls the idea over, and then the puff of a chuckle through her nose.

"The quality of the work does depend on the quality of the tools," Nari says, wryly amused. It had never occurred to her that way before. That perhaps they were the tools, rather than the art. That they weren't what the gods wove, but the loom on which it was woven.

Huh.

How much do her myriad knives, chisels, and picks know of the movements her hands make or why they make them? Why she chooses one over the other for a certain cut? Not seeing everything, wouldn't they struggle and chafe at her choices? Would she not want them to trust her to use them well?

She'll be chewing on that for days.