Well, [ he twists, adjusts the angle of the knife, and twists again, ] speaking purely hypothetically, were she to develop wings functional for flight, [ twist, ] and maneuver through one of your windows, [ twist, ] she could escape as far as the mainland, if the wind is right.
[ He places the knife aside, and works the cork out the rest of the way, thonk. A sniff at the butt of it, and he offers the bottle itself back to Val. ]
Snakes can lay fertilized eggs for years after breeding once.
But she would not do that! Not when she has made a home here.
[He accepts the bottle and pours out: wine in each glass--a fine deep red, thick and strong-smelling--and a little into the bowl as well. Veronique is served first: the bowl makes a quiet tock against the floor as he sets it down beside the chair, beneath which she has again disappeared. Without waiting to see if she will emerge, Val turns to take up his glass.]
And even if she did, she would turn around again, once she realized how horrible and backwater Kirkwall is. Really, there would be nothing for her there. Why linger? Also, have you seen a snake?
[ To his questionable credit, Richard listens, and listens intently. He waits until Val is done to take up the remaining glass, and drinks deeply once he has. Steeling himself, as if taking a shot -- not for the shot itself, but for the conversation encircled around it. ]
No. [ He has not seen a snake where Val is looking, hither and thither around his storeroom. ]
Is that what you really think? [ Genuine curiosity hooks at his brow; his regard is cool, and flinty sharp opposite his raised glass. ] If she’s capable of starting a hive I can’t think of a single compelling reason for her not to colonize Kirkwall.
[He gives a disappointed hm, but stops looking for the snake.]
I suppose I do not find Kirkwall to be a very comfortable place, with little to recommend it--for myself, of course, but no different for a creature such as her. And she would be the only one of her kind in an uncomfortable place, whereas here, she has whatever she needs, as best as we can provide it, and it is very comfortable besides.
[ Just two guys standing in a mad science dungeon and drinking wine with a giant ant. Val’s rebuttal is clearly more salient than Richard anticipated. He reflects on the clutter, and the paper, and the warmth, and the wine, and what they might mean to an alien brain.
It is true that all cold-blooded creatures aren’t necessarily part of a larger evil empire. ]
Expansion, [ he supposes, eventually, in the off chance that they are. ] Propagation.
Richard, [Val says, very familiarly, and fondly,] but there is no sunlight in Kirkwall! Not truly. What sunlight there is, it is very weak, like a baby. No, she would have to go a very, very, very, very, very, very--a thousand times over very--long way. Yes?
Still, you make an excellent point. As she grows, she will require larger and more suitable accommodations. Husbands. If she is showing such signs of maturity, we should plan now for the expedition.
[We. Obviously. He sips his wine as he turns on his heel to stride around to the other side of the worktable, and unearth a writing book.
Beside the chair, Veronique's bowl of wine remains untouched at present, and the little curtain beneath the chair remains still and unparted.]
Are you some manner of zoologist yourself, my friend? You are very knowledgeable.
[ Richard stands in idle isolation from Val’s striding and shuffling, still and upright as the stem of his glass. He watches de Foncé rather than drink, and looks late to Veronique’s dish, undisturbed as it is. Hm. ]
There is more sunlight in Kirkwall than there is in this storeroom. [ For a start. ]
Regarding an expedition, I’ve seen enough of your jungle for this lifetime. [ Now he drinks. Val might have been too preoccupied with braiding harnesses for flying opossums to clock Dick flagging at the back of the pack towards the end of that operation. ] Consider my curiosity sated.
Do not be ridiculous! You will have to come along. I will insist upon it, even if I have to, ah, I don't know--
[He flips open the writing book with one hand and slaps it onto the table, then begins to dig through the table detritus to find something to write with. His other hand still holds his glass and he gestures expansively with it. The wine sloshes cheerfully against the sides of the glass.]
'Kidnap' is not the appropriate word. I cannot think of what it would be in Trade. And we will have a marvelous time besides. You must see all of Thedas while you are here, do you not agree?
[ A note of despondency woven through and sealed with a put-upon look makes it an earnest request. Please, Monsieur de Foncé. He is on vacation. ]
It’s clear that your people lack the magical prowess needed to mount remote rescues.
[ Pricklier distaste finds its way in, at the bottom of his glass. Par for the course in this 3rd world demonic magic dumpster plane -- he helps himself to a second round, with a glance to warn against interference. ]
[Having found the sought-after pencil, Val absently looks up from his writing. He ponders the question.]
I would not say 'normal'. She has a fastidiousness to her nature, far moreso than I. But she cannot be objecting to the vintage, it is very fine. Of my dear friend the Baroness' vineyard, all the way from Orlais. It is very fine, isn't it? If you are worried, you might peek into her lair.
[This is delivered nearly all in one breath, as is his custom. A slight pause here marks the true shift of gears.]
And what does that mean? 'The magical prowess needed to mount remote rescues'. What is it that we are missing?
[ Dick is accomodating enough to say nothing while Val winds his way through the Baroness’ vineyard to land at the base of Veronique’s lair -- a destination it’s clear he has no intention of exploring alone. He’s seen what happens when a wasp's nest is tampered with.
Maybe after another glass.
For now, he waits for de Foncé’s breath, and ensuing question to answer, after a deeper breath of his own: ]
Teleportation and divine patronage, for a start. The ability to generate food, drink, [ he tips his glass to Veronique’s chair, cynicism bright and sharp in his eyes, bordering upon contempt: ] shelter. [ Please. ]
[In the meanwhile, Val's eyes brighten with interest. He sets down the pencil and lets the book flip shut.]
Generate food. How interesting. Then there must be no starvation in your country--and it must be full of drunks--though how would you control the quality of what is produced? No, do not answer--that was a joke, and I should perhaps not joke of such a thing. It is so very different than what is here. Rifters are fascinating. There are those that would be afraid, but I would disagree and indeed go so far as to spit upon them. Fear is the primary blockade to knowledge. It is only a pity that such tricks are not easily repeated here. Or at least, that is my understanding. Is it wrong? Are you able to generate shelter?
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 06:32 pm (UTC)[ He places the knife aside, and works the cork out the rest of the way, thonk. A sniff at the butt of it, and he offers the bottle itself back to Val. ]
Snakes can lay fertilized eggs for years after breeding once.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-29 10:01 pm (UTC)[He accepts the bottle and pours out: wine in each glass--a fine deep red, thick and strong-smelling--and a little into the bowl as well. Veronique is served first: the bowl makes a quiet tock against the floor as he sets it down beside the chair, beneath which she has again disappeared. Without waiting to see if she will emerge, Val turns to take up his glass.]
And even if she did, she would turn around again, once she realized how horrible and backwater Kirkwall is. Really, there would be nothing for her there. Why linger? Also, have you seen a snake?
[He looks around, interested.]
no subject
Date: 2020-09-30 01:31 am (UTC)No. [ He has not seen a snake where Val is looking, hither and thither around his storeroom. ]
Is that what you really think? [ Genuine curiosity hooks at his brow; his regard is cool, and flinty sharp opposite his raised glass. ] If she’s capable of starting a hive I can’t think of a single compelling reason for her not to colonize Kirkwall.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-30 10:07 pm (UTC)I suppose I do not find Kirkwall to be a very comfortable place, with little to recommend it--for myself, of course, but no different for a creature such as her. And she would be the only one of her kind in an uncomfortable place, whereas here, she has whatever she needs, as best as we can provide it, and it is very comfortable besides.
Why would she seek to quarter elsewhere?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-01 12:38 am (UTC)It is true that all cold-blooded creatures aren’t necessarily part of a larger evil empire. ]
Expansion, [ he supposes, eventually, in the off chance that they are. ] Propagation.
Sunlight, live prey. A mate.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-02 12:22 am (UTC)Still, you make an excellent point. As she grows, she will require larger and more suitable accommodations. Husbands. If she is showing such signs of maturity, we should plan now for the expedition.
[We. Obviously. He sips his wine as he turns on his heel to stride around to the other side of the worktable, and unearth a writing book.
Beside the chair, Veronique's bowl of wine remains untouched at present, and the little curtain beneath the chair remains still and unparted.]
Are you some manner of zoologist yourself, my friend? You are very knowledgeable.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-04 06:40 pm (UTC)[ Richard stands in idle isolation from Val’s striding and shuffling, still and upright as the stem of his glass. He watches de Foncé rather than drink, and looks late to Veronique’s dish, undisturbed as it is. Hm. ]
There is more sunlight in Kirkwall than there is in this storeroom. [ For a start. ]
Regarding an expedition, I’ve seen enough of your jungle for this lifetime. [ Now he drinks. Val might have been too preoccupied with braiding harnesses for flying opossums to clock Dick flagging at the back of the pack towards the end of that operation. ] Consider my curiosity sated.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-09 07:59 pm (UTC)[He flips open the writing book with one hand and slaps it onto the table, then begins to dig through the table detritus to find something to write with. His other hand still holds his glass and he gestures expansively with it. The wine sloshes cheerfully against the sides of the glass.]
'Kidnap' is not the appropriate word. I cannot think of what it would be in Trade. And we will have a marvelous time besides. You must see all of Thedas while you are here, do you not agree?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-09 09:44 pm (UTC)[ A note of despondency woven through and sealed with a put-upon look makes it an earnest request. Please, Monsieur de Foncé. He is on vacation. ]
It’s clear that your people lack the magical prowess needed to mount remote rescues.
[ Pricklier distaste finds its way in, at the bottom of his glass. Par for the course in this 3rd world demonic magic dumpster plane -- he helps himself to a second round, with a glance to warn against interference. ]
Is it normal for her to decline offerings?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-15 02:09 am (UTC)[Having found the sought-after pencil, Val absently looks up from his writing. He ponders the question.]
I would not say 'normal'. She has a fastidiousness to her nature, far moreso than I. But she cannot be objecting to the vintage, it is very fine. Of my dear friend the Baroness' vineyard, all the way from Orlais. It is very fine, isn't it? If you are worried, you might peek into her lair.
[This is delivered nearly all in one breath, as is his custom. A slight pause here marks the true shift of gears.]
And what does that mean? 'The magical prowess needed to mount remote rescues'. What is it that we are missing?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-21 05:20 pm (UTC)Maybe after another glass.
For now, he waits for de Foncé’s breath, and ensuing question to answer, after a deeper breath of his own: ]
Teleportation and divine patronage, for a start. The ability to generate food, drink, [ he tips his glass to Veronique’s chair, cynicism bright and sharp in his eyes, bordering upon contempt: ] shelter. [ Please. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-30 12:44 am (UTC)Generate food. How interesting. Then there must be no starvation in your country--and it must be full of drunks--though how would you control the quality of what is produced? No, do not answer--that was a joke, and I should perhaps not joke of such a thing. It is so very different than what is here. Rifters are fascinating. There are those that would be afraid, but I would disagree and indeed go so far as to spit upon them. Fear is the primary blockade to knowledge. It is only a pity that such tricks are not easily repeated here. Or at least, that is my understanding. Is it wrong? Are you able to generate shelter?