Not too many straight lines. The artifact in an elven ruin was a round shield, you can consider that for size and shape. It can still be ornate, I know you Orlesians love that.
Everyone loves the ornate. Or they should, anyways. It is, at the moment, very much in style.
My first thought, given such an inspiration and such restrictions, would be to take that same shape--the round shield--and make it very large, to hang suspended in the entrance hall. More daring than a statue, more catching to the eye. And upon its surface, there would be gilded some design that is in the spirit of the Inquisition's sigil--not the sigil itself, I am not very fond of that marking. It lacks true beauty. But an artist, with the gifts of an artist, could use its features to create something new and... what would the word be? Abstract, perhaps. A design that brings to mind that of the Inquisition's sigil, without being the sigil.
That would be beautiful, if we can find an artisan to do it. It would rebrand the Gallows' entire aesthetic, and if it gets cut down, the magic will stay intact. Can you draw something up for me and I can go round asking local craftsmen?
Of course! I will put together the design of the artifact, and a loose concept of design. For the actual design, it is my thought that we should commission someone of Kirkwall, as a show of good faith and our intent to integrate ourselves into this--
[Mmm. Pause.]
--culture, for lack of a better term. It is possible that we will find no suitable works, and then of course we must do the work ourselves.
I've done a lot of reading. I can't be sure, but I might be the only person alive who knows this spell, in its form. So it'll be me casting it. Though it isn't so much one spell so much as a very saturated enchantment. Like imbuing something with a very strong magnetism.
Very ancient elven magic. Arlathan-age, so obscure even the Dalish have forgotten it. Not that the Dalish have any use for magical fortifications of buildings. I came across it on an expedition last--
[And then she realizes why he asked. The tone in his voice.
Val is a peer. Someone she doesn't have to dumb things down for when talking about her work. Someone with whom ideas bloom when they are shared, and become something that could only be imagined by at least two brains. She has grown so comfortable with talking to him that she has forgotten what she never told him about herself.
A moment ago, she was only a disembodied voice. Now, she has ears.]
Val...
[There's nothing she can do. This foolish mistake could ruin a friendship she holds very dear.]
[To be fair: a percentage of Val's tone is in deference to the fact that he will now owe a silver to Freddie and one to Jehan, who have gone on record attesting that Val's crystal friend is in fact an elf. He has the silver to spare, of course, but it is the principle of the matter.
The rest of his tone is-- well. Just as she might be suspecting. She: a crystal friend who has quite suddenly grown ears sharper than one originally thought.]
Yes, I see.
[mmmmmmerde. You know what? Briskly:]
We need say no more on the subject, yes? This-- [Magic, fine; elven magic, slightly less fine, but--] --this will be your expertise. I will have nothing to do with it. Nor would I comprehend its intricacies if you attempted to explain. My comprehension will ever be but limited, for I lack that sparking of magical ability that would make such complications clear to me. The less that is said of it, the better, yes? We can agree on that.
[Do let's agree.]
This will be left in your hands, which I, [trust? Poor choice.] am certain are capable of this much at least.
[It's already different. His expectations, his willingness to hear her happy scholarly ramblings, her sonnets composed on the altar of knowledge and history and arcane research, whether he understood them or no. He sounds different. He sounds uncomfortable.
She allows herself a moment of grief. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Then, she releases her breath, and her tone takes on a steely edge it hasn't aimed at him...almost ever. Something most people start off with with her, till she warms to them. That process had been skipped between them, due to the anonymity of the crystals.]
That's the first time I've heard you advocate against the sharing of ideas. You know better than to believe it.
[She doesn't confirm or deny that she is capable. He knows she is capable. She simply shuts off the feed.]
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Everyone loves the ornate. Or they should, anyways. It is, at the moment, very much in style.
My first thought, given such an inspiration and such restrictions, would be to take that same shape--the round shield--and make it very large, to hang suspended in the entrance hall. More daring than a statue, more catching to the eye. And upon its surface, there would be gilded some design that is in the spirit of the Inquisition's sigil--not the sigil itself, I am not very fond of that marking. It lacks true beauty. But an artist, with the gifts of an artist, could use its features to create something new and... what would the word be? Abstract, perhaps. A design that brings to mind that of the Inquisition's sigil, without being the sigil.
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[Mmm. Pause.]
--culture, for lack of a better term. It is possible that we will find no suitable works, and then of course we must do the work ourselves.
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[Ah, merde.]
Elven magic, you say.
1/2
2/2
Val is a peer. Someone she doesn't have to dumb things down for when talking about her work. Someone with whom ideas bloom when they are shared, and become something that could only be imagined by at least two brains. She has grown so comfortable with talking to him that she has forgotten what she never told him about herself.
A moment ago, she was only a disembodied voice. Now, she has ears.]
Val...
[There's nothing she can do. This foolish mistake could ruin a friendship she holds very dear.]
no subject
The rest of his tone is-- well. Just as she might be suspecting. She: a crystal friend who has quite suddenly grown ears sharper than one originally thought.]
Yes, I see.
[mmmmmmerde. You know what? Briskly:]
We need say no more on the subject, yes? This-- [Magic, fine; elven magic, slightly less fine, but--] --this will be your expertise. I will have nothing to do with it. Nor would I comprehend its intricacies if you attempted to explain. My comprehension will ever be but limited, for I lack that sparking of magical ability that would make such complications clear to me. The less that is said of it, the better, yes? We can agree on that.
[Do let's agree.]
This will be left in your hands, which I, [trust? Poor choice.] am certain are capable of this much at least.
no subject
She allows herself a moment of grief. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Then, she releases her breath, and her tone takes on a steely edge it hasn't aimed at him...almost ever. Something most people start off with with her, till she warms to them. That process had been skipped between them, due to the anonymity of the crystals.]
That's the first time I've heard you advocate against the sharing of ideas. You know better than to believe it.
[She doesn't confirm or deny that she is capable. He knows she is capable. She simply shuts off the feed.]