Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.

Comments

[heirring]

Well, yes, I suppose we are and yes, I suppose I have—has Mister Holden shown the great gun to you yet? You must ask after it if he hasn't. I'm very pleased with it.

But surely, Mister Dickerson, the same thing could be said of just about anyone at all. Rifter or otherwise. The fact that we are somewhat more inconveniently reliant on this place and one another is a complication of the matter, not an altogether different state of affairs. And you've yet to answer my question, you know.

[Relentlessness evidently isn't stored in the left arm.]

[nonvenomous]

Ruggedly handsome.

[ He answers her question, only a little short from beneath the babushka bundle of his blankets in his dark room. ]

We are alien by nature. We don’t have roots here.

[ They’ve been around about this before, surely. An expertly-timed squeeze of his fist around his crystal at her mention of the gun closes out the sound of a very long and weary sigh. The break for it is silent but measurable. ]

You know that it isn’t the same. Or am I to believe your marriage to Monsieur de Foncé was predicated on true love and not the privilege of property ownership.

[heirring]

[Somewhere, she balks—the first sound of some aborted answer creaking out of her. The beat of silence which threatens the form is quickly subsumed before it can take hold.]

I owned that house well before marrying Monsieur de Foncé.

[Nailed it.]

[nonvenomous]

Of course, [ says Mr. Dickerson. ] My mistake.

[heirring]

Well I did.

[So there.]

Are you in pursuit of a wife, Mister Dickerson?

[nonvenomous]

[ Dick looks down at the lump of crystal glowing in his palm. He considers, for just a moment, whether or not the coals of his fire are actually capable of consuming it. ]

I would settle for a less legally-binding arrangement.

[heirring]

[Less....legally....binding....]

But how would having a— [She lowers her voice to hiss—] lover [Okay, back to ordinary volume] legitimize a person in any legal fashion?

[nonvenomous]

What an interesting question. Why was it that you contacted me, again?

[heirring]

I—[Yes, it IS an interesting question and that means he ought to answer it.

Slowly, grudgingly:] To arrange our notes. And to discuss the findings, I suppose. I've a theory or two, but should like very much to know your thoughts on the whole affair. I will admit to having some bias on the subject.

[nonvenomous]

It may not surprise you to learn that I am not actually an accredited scholar, Miss Poppell. [ He just plays one on TV. ]

My primary concern is to make the entire company aware that the option of retirement is available to all Rifters willing to endure amputation.

[heirring]

Well neither am I. An accredited scholar, I mean. Not as far as anyone in Thedas is concerned, in any case, so I hardly see why that should stop—You're not considering amputation yourself, are you Mister Dickerson?

[nonvenomous]

The luxury of choice certainly has some appeal. [ Not quite muttered. He glances back to the sound of footsteps past his door. ]

The behavior of lyrium upon exposure to your severed limb alongside the relationship between rift location and the presence of lyrium deposits may indicate that our physical forms are soulless flesh golems “grown” from seeded lyrium.

[ If she is going to insist on peppering him with uncomfortable questions -- ]

Had the anchor maintained its magic, I should have been very interested to see if the sample we provided ultimately managed to manifest a second Wysteria Poppell.

[heirring]

[With a clear note of approval, evidently pleased to have goaded him into theorizing:]

Perhaps we might mention that in our report, so that everyone may have a reason to be very grateful and reassured by the fact that it failed to.

[She is not unaware of her affect on people, Mister Dickerson. Also, for her part she would dislike it if there were a second version of her around. Particularly if that Wysteria Poppell had both her arms.]

A shame that it's only the people who come through the rift that have anchors. [A pause. Then, abruptly:] Do you suppose a Rifter might be able to handle lyrium directly?

[nonvenomous]

[ Hedging hesitation falters at what might otherwise have been a ready agreement. On the one hand, the potential for growing a biological blank from raw lyrium is theory they should be careful to keep out of the wrong hands.

On the other, it might already be in their hands. Anyway, sectioning evil away from the equation, it’s hard to imagine hands worse than theirs. ]

It’s possible. [ He’d come very close to touching the core of Isaac’s staff, once. Just to see. ]

If the Venatori have already arrived at these conclusions, I’d hazard they already have the answer. [ Being altogether less concerned with the potential side-effects for any Rifters they possess. ]

Who should we poison?

[heirring]

[Somewhere, Wysteria makes a face of displeasure—a wrinkled nose, a grimacing mouth. But lacking those visual cues, does she sound appropriately chagrined by the wording when she says,]

It would have to be an entirely voluntary experiment, of course.

[Probably less than one might prefer.]

[nonvenomous]

Do you have another mysterious prize to incentivize volunteers?

[ He doubts and doesn’t doubt. A prize doesn’t need to be worthwhile to be mysterious. And her husband has a way with hyperbole. ]

[heirring]

[A sharp breath means there must be something that springs instantly to kind— but Wysteria holds it a beat, then says:]

I mean that it would be best that anyone subjecting themselves to the test be informed of the potential dangers.

[nonvenomous]

Hence the need for incentive.

[heirring]

I suppose it would be too much to hope for that something might be willing to endanger themselves simply because it might benefit our studies or the war effort...

[Ha ha what a great joke.]

We might raise a pot for it. Although the average Rifters hardly has many expenses...

[nonvenomous]

[ He could do it himself.

The thought corkscrews through a more private silence, weighed against the practical danger of burning one’s sanity at both ends. The amount of progress it could render pointless, very vague promises notwithstanding -- ]

The accursed weaponry the Provost provided for testing recently was popular.

[heirring]

Would you risk death or madness for an enchanted shield?

—Well, I suppose my thought is really that it's a rather subjective question. Perhaps we should discuss it with Mister Stark and suggest it as we might any other dangerous mission. It's hardly as if Riftwatch is a business entirely without risk. Field work is just as likely to do damage

We could draw lots?

[nonvenomous]

I am already risking death and madness for nothing.

[ An important point of order, casually imparted. ]

Are you hoping he will use his station to make knowing the answer an imperative?

[ Shady. ]

[heirring]

Is it not?

[Is dodging the question, but she's no coward:]

My point is only exactly the same as yours. We're already frequently put in danger. It technically wouldn't be out of turn to ask that someone chance a little more.

[nonvenomous]

I would be dangerously angry if I was ordered to do this.

[heirring]

[She is maybe bafflingly genuine when she asks—]

Why exactly?