Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

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

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[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?

[nonvenomous]

[ Silence peels open between them. ]

The existing literature on lyrium indicates a crippling outcome is all but guaranteed.

[heirring]

[Somewhere, Wysteria makes a note in a little booklet. Just as smoothly, evidently untroubled by the effect of dire consequences on morale:]

Then perhaps we might begin with testing exposure to refined lyrium in the way that Templars use it. We have a number of them in Riftwatch—or people who once were Templars—, and might easily conduct a study to see if the effects and addictive qualities of refined lyrium on Rifters are consistent with those felt by a native Thedosian.

That might give us some further basis other than my arm on which to theorize the risk of raw lyrium exposure.

[nonvenomous]

...I think that’s a reasonable start.

[ By contrast. The toothed edge to his voice has eased without leaving entirely, trodden grass hesitant to reassume its shape. ]

And something I have been curious about besides.

[heirring]

Then we'll begin there. We can ask for volunteers at the same time we present the findings from the amputation.

I don't suppose you're well acquainted with any of the ex-Templars—or whatever it is they're calling themselves—currently among our company, are you?

[nonvenomous]

I know that Ser Barrow is easily bullied. I’m not well-acquainted with the others.

[heirring]

Is he? I've found him to be a perfectly agreeable gentleman.

[🥁.]

But good. Then perhaps we may at least rely on him as a foundation on which to build should no other Templar-adjacent sort of person be willing to volunteer. Good. [A small sound. Perhaps somewhere, Wysteria has cheerfully struck her remaining hand on her knee or a tabletop.] I think this is a very fine plan, Mister Dickerson. Well done.

[nonvenomous]

Yes. [ A fine plan. His pauses are now occupied by speculation over who among them is likeliest to opt into addiction, the potential for nullifying aspects of their own Fade-fueled existence, and so on. ] Very scholarly.

[heirring]

[With an audible flush of pride:]

Do you really think so?